The sun was bright, the season light, the people filled with joy. Wars had been fought and won—a new age begun. So now the government strolled the streets to the place where governments meet. Now they’d discuss how the needs of the poor could be fit to more important wants and desires.
Politics. Politics. War’s easier, he thought, but when you’re a Caesar you do what a Caesar must do.
Then others seized his robe and tore him down. They thrust him through with swords till he lay bleeding. One last friend—et tu Brute—cast the last blow.