by Mike Shenkar
As the Senators voices were gradually fading, a tall man in a full equipment of a Ranaloan centurion, but in a purple cloak, stepped forward & held out his right hand. In the deep silence he raised his left hand & every senator noticed as the last rays of ligth glittered on the short, wide blade of a ranalon.
With a single move, without any emotion he made a quick, accurate incision.
Slowly, as the blood began to drip, the words of the ancient oath filled the hall :
" By the name of the Republic, by the name of the blessed Foss, I Talarikius Gavr Nikator the Servant of Videssia, the Hand of the Senate, the Introducer of peace & quiet, swear that the Videssian blood in this sacred hall wont be cleared until my army will return with victory & I Talarikius Gavr Nikator will wash it off with a streams of blood of the hatred enemy."
" Glory to the Republic! Glory to Videssia ! "