Reims. At the open marble city gate, soldiers slouched with spears over their shoulders, yawning as they listlessly guarded the vital passage leading to the city center.
Unlike the battlefield, where blood and flesh flew everywhere, this city exuded a decadence wholly out of place with the front lines, like an old man in his twilight years.
Ancient yet conservative, peaceful yet dull.
Clink...
As the crisp sound of precious metal dropping into a tray reached their ears, the soldiers responsible for collecting entry and exit taxes immediately perked up, their faces brightening at the thought that tonight's drinking money had been secured.
Yet when they looked up and searched around, hoping to spot the generous fat sheep among the crowd, they only felt a breeze brush past them. There was not a soul in sight.
The soldiers froze at first, then repeatedly rubbed their eyes. After confirming they had found nothing, they suspiciously reached for the coins in the tray and examined them closely.
A ring of rose patterns had been engraved along their edges, while the two sides bore the images of a laurel-crowned woman, an eagle, and a wolf.
The moment they touched them, their antique design and the extravagant weight of gold revealed their great age.
Moreover, the patterns seemed somewhat familiar, rather like...
At the gate, the centurion—a nobleman assigned to the rear to pad his credentials—lifted a coin and weighed it in his hand. As if recalling something, he instinctively looked toward the Hidden Gate rising in the city center. Its carvings and floral patterns had nearly peeled away, yet familiar overlapping outlines could still vaguely be seen.
Ancient coins of the Roman Empire?
The centurion suddenly shuddered violently. Terror welled up inside him, and his body, already hollowed out by wine and women,