"Do you know what always reminds me of you?"

Roma stood there, in front of the fountain, the same fountain where he had choked her, so many years before. The likeness was actually quite good, the former Attila and a horse, with the blood red waters flowing all around.

"Everything...this whole fucking Palace is like some kind of ridiculous monument to your ego. I wish you were here, though. I really do."

The sip of dark Fortunian red wine slid down her throat. It helped her soothe the choking feeling, the one that could bring tears. Roma had cried too many of those, over the last two years. Tears for Erik, tears of her parents, tears for all of the allies he had killed. The tears had dried, as she had fought back the forces once loyal to her Grandfather. Funny, it had not taken much to sway the people. They had grown weary of the endless soap opera that was Hsu Danmei. Where he had once been viewed as dynamic, strong and powerful, time had diluted his memory to dictatorial, psychotic and weak. The press, once his to control, turned on him, publishing story after story about his history of failure. Pretty soon, Boukun became just one more of his lost projects, his humiliating defeats. Roma hadn't had to do that much, to feed that beast.

"I wish you could see me, sitting on your throne, riding your horses...killing your allies." She raised her glass towards his profile, smirking at the memory of those she had personally executed. So many little minions, from commanders to spies to money men. Even his loyal whores, ones that refused to take the oath, died screaming.
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