Death of Emperor Titus
Emperor Titus lies on his deathbed, surrounded by his inner circle, including his brother Domitian and the Praetorian Prefect. The physician confirms his condition is fatal, while whispers of possible
Setting
The private chambers of Emperor Titus in his villa at Aquae Cutiliae, a grand yet intimate space with high ceilings and frescoed walls. The room overlooks the tranquil waters of the lake, with autumn foliage visible through the arched windows.
Characters
Emperor Titus
primary
A middle-aged Roman emperor with a once-robust frame now weakened by fever. His olive skin is pallid and damp with sweat, his short curly hair matted against his forehead. Dark circles shadow his sunken eyes, and his lips are cracked from dehydration. His muscular arms, once capable of leading legions, now tremble weakly at his sides.
Domitian
primary
A lean, intense man in his late twenties with sharp features, dark piercing eyes, and a closely cropped beard. His posture is rigid, betraying both military discipline and simmering tension. His hands are clasped tightly behind his back, fingers occasionally flexing.
Physician
secondary
A middle-aged Greek man of slender build, with deep-set, worried brown eyes and a short, neatly trimmed beard. His olive skin is marked by faint lines of stress around his eyes and mouth. His hands are steady but his movements are quick and anxious as he prepares his remedies.
Praetorian Prefect
secondary
A battle-hardened man in his late forties with a broad, muscular frame and deep-set watchful eyes. His face bears the weathered lines of years spent in military service, and his close-cropped hair is streaked with gray. His stance exudes disciplined authority, with a scar running from his left temple to his jawline—a testament to past conflicts.
Household Slave
background
A young Syrian slave boy, approximately 16 years old, with olive skin and dark curly hair cropped short in the Roman style. His slender frame shows signs of malnutrition, with prominent collarbones and calloused hands from years of servitude. His downcast eyes are red-rimmed from suppressed tears.
Dialog
Emperor Titus
The pain... is like a Roman wall breached—Jupiter give me strength to hold the line...
Domitian
The laurels grow heavy, brother. Let the physicians bear their weight.
Praetorian Prefect
The guard stands ready, Dominus. As always.
Emperor Titus
Ready for what, Prefect? Dis Pater’s realm needs no sentries... yet.
Domitian
Rome requires sentries. Even—especially—when her emperors... falter.
Praetorian Prefect
The watch changes only at your command, Caesar.
Emperor Titus
Then let it... let it change with honor...