From the gate of the gladiatorial arena squeezed out a group of people - the gates of the gladiatorial arena were very wide, around the circular field, a total of eighty. From the side doors, too, a number of soldiers poured out, and they drove their horses, and behind them they jogged forward with large oil drums, and the soldiers with reed dusters on either side of them first put the soft dusters into the barrels, dipped them in golden olive oil, and then sprinkled them on the gladiators. The musculturous men, who were dressed in all kinds of armor and armed with various weapons, and whose large chest muscles were exposed, quickly applied their hands to their bodies.

The chains on their feet were unfastened, and a fat eunuch rushed forward with a beautiful roster and called out their names. After the gladiator who was called by name replied loudly, "Long live Rome", he was invited into the gladiatorial arena.

Slaves, criminals, and infidels were still chained, and they were driven by swords-wielding hordes of soldiers through the side doors into the dark, deep underground passages at the edge of the field.

There were still a large number of soldiers busy on the grounds, hundreds of large crosses made of metal were erected, some of them were wrapped around bronze ivy leaves, some were stained crimson with blood, some were covered with white cloth, and some were engraved with terrible Latin incantations.

The hot oil in the large iron pot had already boiled, and they "gurged" with large bubbles, and clouds of black smoke rose from it, and soon the gladiatorial arena was shrouded in an eerie mist.

In order to suppress the pungent bloody smell of gladiatorial fighting, many incense burners were lit, and groups of soldiers holding rose petals stood on the platform at the top of the arena, ready to scatter the fragrant flowers to all corners of the arena.

The military band played the majestic "Triumphal Anthem", and the beautiful singers stood on the platform, singing loudly and extolling Stiliko's heroic exploits against the Visigoths.

When the subjects were seated again, they were surprised to find that the Queen Mother was still standing on the golden chariot and had not entered until now.

After converting to Christianity and making it the state religion, the Roman Empire transformed its earlier triumphal ceremonies. Previously, four sturdy horses would pull the cart, and the triumphant generals or emperors who participated in the ceremony wore crowns in the shape of olive branches and leaves made of gold, or simply wore the genuine pieces of this wonderful foliage on their heads, and they would also select the most beautiful and noble figures among the prisoners of war and let them follow closely behind the chariots, accompanying the emperor and the generals on a humiliating parade through the imperial capital of Rome.

A large amount of valuable booty was thrown by the soldiers to their subjects along the way, so that they could share the joy of victory.

But now, the horses that pull the cart have been changed to two, and the emperors wear crowns full of precious stones on their heads, and they occasionally carry a scepter that symbolizes power, so that the pope, who is on the side of God, also stands on the chariot and travels with them.

This is because the emperor has also changed his face in the world, they are no longer elected by their subjects, but have been granted by heaven and become the only supreme in the world.

Who doesn't know that their queen mother is a descendant of the loyal priests of the Old Church of Rome?

The stout python on her shoulder is the embodiment of her family's mystical totem, a symbol of the wild dignity of the king of the forest and a metaphor for the feminine beauty of Diana, the goddess of the moon.

There is a legend that has been passed down by word of mouth, but no one dares to proclaim it loudly, and it is known to everyone in the vast territory of the empire. In both Eastern and Western Rome, everyone talked about it in private, and was always on guard with trepidation:

It is said that every full moon night, the Empress Dowager would send someone to secretly arrest the hearts of a pope or patriarch, and of course, the most respected and respected believers in the empire, and secretly escort them into a gloomy courtyard in the deep palace, tied them to a beautiful old tree, and let the python suck their blood little by little.

Then, the python will bite off their bones one by one, and then tear off their flesh piece by piece.

The carnage would last all night, and the Queen Mother would stand aside and watch contentedly. After that, the saint's skull would be placed in the python's lair and become her new stepping stone.

This rumor was not fabricated by a well-wisher, but it is still difficult to find out the evidence. It is true that the saints disappeared one after another, but there are always grandiose arguments about their whereabouts or the cause of their deaths to justify the Queen Mother's vicious methods.

Fear and fear grew wildly in the hearts of the subjects, and the foundations of Christianity that had been so hard to take root in the land of the empire were gradually shaken.

And among the so-called heretics who are being taken into the underground passages today are many faithful believers who are extremely devout to God. Their crimes are planted and fabricated, but they have a hard time defending themselves.

After the gladiatorial performance, they will be crucified, the boiling hot oil will be poured on them, and then they will be lit as torches that scream incessantly.

Their hearts were filled with humiliation, but they were not afraid. Right now, they are still whispering prayers in the ground, weeping and praying in devout worship that has brought God to tears in the clouds above the gladiatorial arena.

Faith is sinless, but how cruel is the struggle between faiths?

Sin is clearly created by the hands of human beings, but it is the supreme, purest and most beautiful God who is ultimately condemned and judged!

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Perhaps this is also the mark of original sin left in the body by the fruit of the Garden of Eden!

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The Queen Mother stood proudly on the chariot, and she threw her head higher. Her son turned his head on Stilicko's warhorse and looked at her sadly. The moment they met, his heart was once again pierced by her cold, blade-like gaze. She despaired of the cowardice and cowardice of the child she had raised, which made her angry. Tough and domineering, she couldn't accept all this, and she didn't believe that she couldn't change this pathetic character.

To do this, she can do whatever it takes, regardless of anything.

She had already foreseen the inevitable demise of Western Rome, and the moment her husband closed his eyes in front of her ten years ago and died, her full of support and comfort collapsed. The first emperor was away from home all the year round, and he died too unexpectedly and too quickly. He was a hero like no other in the world, and with his astonishing wisdom and iron fist, he firmly defended the remaining hope and dignity of Rome.

His wife didn't love him much, but she was extremely dependent on him.

Before his death, the emperor entrusted his two sons to the great general Stilico, because Honorius was only nine years old and weak, and Stilico poured more time and energy into him.

With the fullness of paternal love—the deepest, the deepest, the most unselfish, he guarded this beloved child wholeheartedly, and compensated him a hundredfold for the loss of his father's affection and security.

Of course, this is also due to his deep love for the child's mother.

He didn't realize how complicated the Queen Mother's intentions were in her eagerness to drag him to her bed.

He is a true man who stands up to the sky, brave and powerful, full of loyalty and responsibility, but he is also extremely naïve, too easy to take the trust of others as a mission, and will very rashly put his whole life in the hands of the other person - if you can shake his heart and stir his love.

The Queen Mother Arya also loves him, and this love may be true, but in the last days of the empire, she is in such a position, and she wants to make her love pure, but she can't at all.

Her two children were emperors, one ruled over Eastern Rome and the other was at the top of the Western Roman Empire. Their personalities were very different, and now her son in Eastern Rome was a natural king, but the youngest son, whom she loved even more, was only an innocent and weak child.

The empire is in shambles, and in the midst of the storm, the general is the only one who can defend and preserve it. Arya couldn't imagine where her youngest son would go once the empire collapsed and was destroyed.

He can't go to Eastern Rome, a country can be divided and ruled by two lords, but he can't tolerate two kings.

Her youngest son had a willfulness she could not have imagined, and he had not yet thought about it. He was immersed in poetry and poetry all day long, playing like a child. What he hated and didn't want to do the most was to be an emperor. But he didn't realize that if one day he no longer had this identity, and was pushed down from that high position, then he would not be able to survive, and his broken bones would be his only end.

The thought of this makes Arya shudder. It can be said that she was "driven crazy" a little bit by the sad and lamentable reality!

She had to be a vicious mother, trying everything to force her youngest son to become, as much as possible like his father. But this is the hardest thing in the world to torture her. For this reason, the means she wants to use can only be extreme, without any principles and human feelings.

Every time she can feel her son's heartache when he faces her, she also has times when she can't bear it. A gentle greeting was enough to make the child ecstatic, how could she not know, but in the blink of an eye, it would also make his willfulness even more uncontrollable.

Therefore, she can only grit her teeth and endlessly force herself, vicious, and vicious!

The son is already nineteen years old, he has been emperor for ten whole years, but he has always been a child in the minds of his subjects, how can this be?

No one feared him, and even less respected him. He could still smile as innocently as he did when he was three years old, but that smile had burned his mother's heart into a charcoal with anxiety and anxiety!

She was staring at her son, stinging him and alerting him with an ice-like gaze, but who knew that her snow-like face was crying without tears at the moment!