Imperial Palace, Rome. 54 AD

The bloody corpse of a man gets dragged past the entrance of your room. A golden laurel crown gets thrown on the table you're seated behind. Sabina, Prefect of the Praetorian Guard casually walks in whistling a cheery tune. She pours herself a cup of wine shaking her head. Terrible shame what happened to your stepfather. Suicide by fifty self-inflicted stab wounds to the chest... Sheesh! There is a splatter of blood on her lorica. She smiles deviously at you.