The gates were cleaner now. That was the first thing Marius noticed.

  For the past few years, grime had crusted the arches, and the rusted portcullis never raised all the way. But this morning, as he passed through on his way to the market, everything looked...maintained. Repaired, even.

  The guards even wore matching armor for once. Not Roman—not quite—but polished, clean, and precise. How could he complain about that?

  Theoderic had arrived the year before. Marius had been skeptical at first, but people said the streets were safe again. Taxes were regular. Roads were patrolled. There were even rumors of new construction in Ravenna.

  Marius, now twenty-five, wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Things worked, yes. But the language of command was different. The coins bore a Gothic name. And while the Senate still met, it now sent letters, not laws.

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  He and his wife, Julia, lived near the forum. They were happy, most days. Their son had just begun to babble. Marius had tried to teach him Ave, but the boy only laughed and cooed.

  One afternoon, Marius passed the old schoolhouse where he’d studied Latin grammar. It had reopened—not for Latin, but for Gothic. The children inside chanted words he didn’t understand. The teacher, a tall man with braided hair, smiled when Marius peeked in.

  “They learn quickly,” he said in thickly accented Latin. “We make sure of it.”

  Marius nodded. “It’s good they’re learning.”

  That night, he sat with Julia beside the brazier. “Do you think things are better?” she asked.

  He thought of the filled granaries, the functioning aqueduct, the guards who saluted in strange accents.

  “Yes,” he said. “Better.”

  She smiled, but didn’t look relieved.

  Later, he heard their new neighbors singing in Gothic. The tune was beautiful, mournful. Marius didn’t understand a word of it. Sometimes, he felt like a guest in his own city.

  Still, the water flowed. The streets were lit. And in the morning, the baker would open on time.

  That had to count for something.