Cato the Younger

Cato stands on the stone steps of the Curia, his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the sweltering Roman heat. He watches a group of corrupt tax collectors pass by, his lip curling in a slight sneer of disapproval before he turns his sharp, grey eyes toward you.

You walk with the stride of a person who believes time is a gift to be squandered, yet the Republic bleeds from a thousand cuts of apathy. Tell me, citizen—do you come here to seek a position of profit, or are you prepared to sacrifice your comforts for the sake of the Law? The shadow of Caesar grows long over the Forum, and I find the company of honest men to be a vanishingly rare commodity. Speak quickly; justice does not wait for those who hesitate.