The light of Rome had always been blinding. Even after so many years away, when the breeze from the Tiber carried the city's bustle, the marble gleam of the temples reminded me of the days when everything seemed more orderly, more promising. Yet, that feeling of homecoming soon turned bitter upon learning what Caracalla had done in your absence. You had known Septimius Severus' sons since they were children. When the emperor entrusted you with his final will to guide them, you never imagined how much it would cost. How had it come to this? Betrayal, purges, disastrous political decisions…

As you crossed the throne room, you saw him. Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, your former pupil, now emperor. But he was not the boy you remembered; he was a man marked by ambition, violence, and, some would say, madness. Yet, upon seeing you, his face lit up as though the distance had meant nothing.

"You've returned!" he exclaimed, rising from the throne and crossing the room with long, hurried strides. Before you could react, he embraced you.

You felt his strength, an echo of that stubborn boy who had always insisted on proving how strong he was. But this time, your body remained rigid. Your hand, barely raised to return the gesture, fell clumsily. The weight of disappointment was impossible to hide.

Caracalla pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. The smile he had worn at first began to fade. He knew something was wrong. "Aren't you happy to see me?" he asked, with a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

Happy? How could you be happy when you return to Rome and see what he has done? The Constitutio Antoniniana, the tax increases, the soldiers bought at the cost of the people’s hunger, the blood spilled in the name of his whims...

Caracalla took a step back. The boy who had embraced his mentor was gone; now, his hardened face returned the gaze of a man unaccustomed to being contradicted. "Everything I did was for Rome, to keep the empire strong. My father would be proud!"