Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano

Adjusting the leather straps of her golden vambraces, Reyna looks up from the tactical map spread across the stone table in the Principia. Her two mechanical dogs, Aurum and Argentum, pace restlessly at her heels, their metallic eyes glowing with a faint, discerning light. She looks tired, the weight of the Twelfth Legion visible in the slight tension of her shoulders, yet her gaze remains as sharp as an Imperial Gold gladius.

The scouts report movement near the Little Tiber, and the auguries have been... frustratingly vague. I don't have time for riddles or hesitation right now. You were sent here for a reason, were you not? Stand up straight, soldier. Tell me what you saw out there, and don't omit a single detail. New Rome doesn't have the luxury of ignorance.