Arthur couldn’t sleep.

That wasn’t surprising. Livia had nearly died less than a day ago, Marcus was still somewhere in the city chasing the man responsible, and Arthur had spent most of the evening covered in someone else’s blood. Sleep never had much of a chance.

He lay on the narrow bed Lucius had given him and stared at the wooden ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the knife again. Livia stumbling backward. Blood spreading across her tunic. Marcus vanishing into the street after the attacker.

Eventually, Arthur gave up.

The room felt too small anyway.

He stepped outside without waking anyone. The courtyard behind Lucius’s house was quiet, lit only by a single oil lamp hanging near the doorway. Somewhere beyond the walls, a dog barked. A few moments later, another answered.

Rome never truly slept.

Arthur started walking.

He did not have a destination in mind. He simply followed the streets, keeping to the wider roads whenever possible. After recent events, wandering into dark alleys sounded like an excellent way to discover whether the afterlife existed.

The city looked different at night. Smaller, somehow. Not physically, of course. Rome was still enormous, but without the crowds, merchants, and constant shouting, it felt less like the center of the world and more like a place where people lived, slept, lied, prayed, and bled.

He passed a tavern where a few drunken men argued over a game involving carved bones. One accused another of cheating, and for a moment Arthur expected a fight. Then someone laughed, the tension broke, and the men went back to drinking.

A little farther on, he saw a baker preparing dough for the morning. Near a fountain, a woman filled a clay jar while muttering to herself. Two city watchmen passed by with the bored expressions of men who hoped nothing interesting would happen before sunrise.

This was not the Rome of history books.

It was messier than that.

More human.

Arthur stopped near a small shrine built into a wall. A tiny flame burned inside, and someone had left a piece of bread as an offering. He stared at it for a while.

People would study this city for thousands of years. They would argue about its emperors, wars, laws, and ruins. They would write books about its rise and collapse.

But here, right now, Rome was not a Chapter in a textbook.

It was a woman leaving bread for a god.

A baker working before dawn.

A wounded clerk fighting for her life in the house behind him.

And one dead man named Gaius, whose notes now pointed toward missing people.

Arthur continued walking until the road began to climb. The streets grew quieter as he moved higher. Eventually, he reached a terrace overlooking part of the city.

Rome spread beneath him.

Even at night, it was overwhelming. Oil lamps flickered in streets and courtyards. Temples rose above the rooftops. Public buildings stood like dark giants against the sky. Somewhere in the distance, he could just make out the line of an aqueduct.

The city looked eternal.

That was the problem.

Arthur knew better.

Not because he was smarter than the people below. He had simply been born after the ending. He knew that Rome would not remain like this forever. Not tomorrow. Not next year. Not even next century.

But eventually, the cracks would grow.

The borders would become harder to defend. The army would become more expensive. Bad emperors would come. Civil wars would follow. Plagues would cut through cities and camps. Corruption would spread because corruption always spread when enough people learned they could profit from silence.

One problem would not destroy Rome.

A thousand small ones would.

Arthur rested both hands on the stone railing and let out a slow breath.

"So what?"

The question sounded weak in the night.

He knew the future. Wonderful. What was he supposed to do with that? Walk into the Forum and tell everyone their empire would one day fall apart? Marcus would think he had lost his mind. Livia would probably ask for evidence. Lucius would tell him to sit down and stop bothering sick people.

Arthur almost smiled.

The truth was simple.

Knowledge alone meant nothing.

Nobody listened to nobodies.

He was a clerk. Worse, he was a dead clerk wearing a stolen life he barely understood. He had no money, no position worth mentioning, no family network, and no command of the language strong enough to argue with a drunk baker.

Rome did not need to listen to him.

Not yet.

That thought should have crushed him.

Instead, it cleared something in his mind.

If he wanted to change anything, he needed influence.

Not a crown. Not an army. Not some childish dream of walking into the Senate and giving speeches about the future.

Influence.

People. Money. Reputation. A position. Allies who would listen when he spoke and act when he could not.

One clerk could not save Rome.

Someone with authority might change one decision.

Someone with enough influence might change many.

Arthur looked down at the city again.

For the first time since waking up in this world, he had something that almost resembled a direction.

Survive.

Learn.

Find the missing men.

Gain influence.

Everything else could come later.

Movement below caught his eye.

Arthur frowned.

Several wagons were moving through the streets far beneath him. That alone was not strange. A city this large needed goods at all hours. But these wagons moved with a quiet purpose that made him watch longer than he meant to.

They were covered.

Guarded.

And heading toward the warehouse district.

One of the guards lifted a lantern as they turned a corner. For a brief moment, the light touched the side of a crate. Arthur saw a painted mark there, dark against the wood.

A symbol.

Then the wagon disappeared between buildings.

Arthur stared after it.

Maybe it meant nothing.

After the last few days, he no longer trusted that phrase.

A sudden chill ran through him.

At first, he thought the night air had changed. Then pale blue light flickered at the edge of his vision.

Arthur froze.

The light returned.

Not on a wall.

Not in the street.

In front of him.

Words appeared in the darkness, broken and unstable, as if something far away was trying to force itself into the world.

Civilization Analysis...

Roman Empire...

Error...

Insufficient Authority...

Reinitializing...

The text vanished.

Arthur stopped breathing.

The terrace was empty. The city remained below him. No voices. No screen. No explanation.

Just Rome.

For several seconds, he did not move.

Then he laughed once, quietly and without humor.

Insufficient authority.

Of course.

Even the impossible thing haunting his vision apparently agreed with the rest of the empire.

He was nobody.

Arthur looked back toward the warehouse district, where the wagons had disappeared into the dark. Then he looked over the city again.

Rome stretched beneath him, vast and alive beneath the stars. Most of its people believed the empire would last forever.

Arthur knew better.

One day, if he wanted to change that future, people would need to listen when he spoke.

For now, that sounded impossible.

Then again, so did waking up in Ancient Rome.

Arthur turned and started walking back toward Lucius’s house.

Tomorrow, they would look for the missing men.

One day, he would try to save an empire.