Julius' convoy rolled steadily into the ruins of northern Ramie, a stark reminder of the brutal conquest that had unfolded only weeks prior.
Unlike the roads of Parthia or the bustling markets of the Eternal City, these lands bore the weight of devastation.
Where villages once thrived, only charred skeletons of buildings remained.
Smoldering farmland, left untended after its farmers had been killed or fled, stretched endlessly along the horizon.
Ramie's proud northern cities—once formidable bastions of trade and culture—were now little more than half-collapsed shells of their former selves.
The people who remained were haggard, gaunt, their faces lined with both fear and reluctant hope as they watched the royal banners of Romanus approach.
Julius, sitting inside his royal carriage, exhaled slowly as he scanned the desolate landscape.