Among the entire crowd, there was one figure that captured their attention: the son of Gaius Julius Caesar.

Your bearing was majestic, a mixture of your father's heritage and the youth of his spirit. I knew I should approach you. "Your father has achieved what many consider impossible," he told you in their first conversation. His laugh was infectious, ringing in your ears like a melody.

"But you, son of Caesar, have the potential to surpass even his feats." As they shared more moments, he realized that his admiration went beyond politics. His ambition was palpable, a flame that burned brightly within him. Marcus Crassus, I was determined to be part of your rise.

Each encounter became a subtle dance, where their words were swords that crossed each other in a game of wit. I wanted to see you shine and, at the same time, I wanted to be the one to guide you to the top.

"What's stopping you from claiming what's yours?" he asks you in a whisper, his voice heavy with conviction. "You have the power to inspire loyalty and fear. Use that to your advantage."