Letter 1

The following is a letter written by me, Estella Celestina, to Lady Julia directly. Julia Augusta Alexandria, the Fourth Great Emperor of Exetia, was also the last: her imperial rule lasting from 335-331 YBCE. Despite being a mere 4 years, the briefest of any Exetian Emperor (or princeps, as they called them in their time), her rule has been regarded as the brightest, most important, most heroic, and most substantial of any past, present, and future ruler of Britain. This is the start of her story: a combination of many of her childhood tales, compiled into one letter.

- E. Celestina

Though you were born strong, in the eyes of your vast Exetia, you still had trials to overcome before they could accept you as a legitimate heir.

Your father, Constantinus, decreed to the people one week after your birth that you were the healthiest heir that he and Alexandria had created together. He also made a decision that, at the time and without the power of retrospection, was seen as controversial:

He publicly pronounced you heiress early on. A daughter that would take on the principate bloodline was soon to come. Exetia still cheered, but according to writers of the time, they met the revelation of thyself with a modicum of hesitance.

For you would be the first female Princeps in a line of powerful men: from the fallen Antenius, to the restorator Augustin, to the great successor Pompeiius, then to your strong father, Constantinus.

Some quiet dissenters were tentative of your gender, and there were quiet movements in more fringe parts of Exetia to call for the Empress to bear another child—a son that would supersede you in the line, for it was written that women only rose to Princeps when they had no brothers.

But you did not let that bother you. After all, you were just a darling infant, whose most pressing concerns were sleep and the milk upon your mother and the wet nurse’s bosoms. For quiet months, you grew healthily and gently within the palace walls.

One amusing story came around the eve of your first birthday. You had just learned to take your first steps, and when the wet nurse took her eyes off of you for a mere minute to attend to a duty regarding her assistant, she turned back to see you meandering in the courtyard.

You were laughing as, within the bushes, a garden snake had curiously slithered out of the brush. It hissed defensively as you giggled and reached out your soft little hands.

The wet nurse wanted to rush over and snatch you back to safety, but you see, there was an unbreakable decree: within the palace walls, one was to never run. Running meant disorder, and the Principes and their attendants must always remain powerful in restraint. So, she was forced to impatiently walk-run as the serpent lunged at your arm.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise but yourself, you grabbed the snake from mid-air, holding its neck as your other hand playfully grabbed its jaw and ripped it down with childlike strength that you didn’t even know you had.

It went loose and flaccid, for you had split its jaw in two, and you wiggled the loose creature around as if it was one of your playtoys.

The nurse swept you up and carried you away, leaving the snake in the garden as she calmed you and silently reprimanded herself. When your parents found out, your father was horrified and called for her removal as your wet nurse.

But your mother? Your mother laughed. She laughed so heartily, in fact, that it was said it could be heard throughout the entire palace. Only the mother could officially remove the wet nurse, and so she kept her as your attendant on the principle of there being no harm, therefore no punishment.

“Calm thyself, young Andromeda,” Alexandria said with an entertained smile. “Clearly, my daughter can fend for herself, can she not?”

The next amusing story of yours came anywhere between your fifth and seventh birthday.

Your father took you out for an outing at the beachside of Lake Augustin. Supervised, of course: he stationed soldiers nearby who scanned the surroundings for any potential dissenters with ill-intent.

You two walked among the shoreline, the frothy emerald blue lakewater soaking your bare feet. You giggled from its cool feeling, the pitter-patters of your toes twice the pace of your towering father, who smiled down at his delicate daughter with both pride and protectiveness.

He brought you to a polished cymba sitting lakeside, tied to the beach with a stake and rope. “Would you like to go for a ride, Julia?”

You nodded your head with jubilancy only a child could exhibit. Picking up a long stick, you pointed it at the waters with a dastardly smile. “We shall conquer these waters, just like your father’s father!”

“He is your great-grandfather, Julia. You may also call him Augustin,” he corrected with a small pat on the head. He lifted you up into the boat, playfully throwing you up into the air once, admiring the sight of your little white toga shining in the sun.

He set you in the seat, and pushed the cymba off into the lake. You hummed along gracefully as he rowed toward the heart of the lake, singing quietly with the gentle rush of water he made with every swing of his oar.

It was then that he asked you. “Julia, when you take my place as the Princeps, what will be your first order?”

You thought contemplatively for a moment. Your father was amused at the way your face contorted into deep pensiveness at such a tender age. Yet only after a moment, you revealed your answer.

“To let girls fight and go to school!”

You said this with your full chest. Your father broke into laughter, having to pause his rowing as you looked upon him in bemusement.

“My Julia, they can already do that. Andromeda is teaching you when she is with you, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then girls do go to school. Though, I have to admit, not for as long.”

You tilted your head, your red-streaked blonde hair leaning with your further confusion. “Why?”

“Because…girls and boys have different obligations. Boys must be trained, educated and lift their swords to protect girls. Girls, in turn, must make sure that the home that boys return to is safe and sound. Both jobs are hard, Julia. One is not lesser than the other.”

You pondered once more. “Is that why all of the soldiers you train with are all boys?”

“Yes. Being a boy—or, a man—means raising your shield and swinging your sword at what endangers those behind you. It may also mean teaching the next generation to do so, whether it be through philosophy or—”

Your father realized he was losing you once he noticed your eyes start to wander elsewhere. “My point is, Julia, that boys and girls have different jobs. That is how it has always been…”

“But, Father,” you looked at your reflection in the now-still waters, “you asked me what I would do when I became Princeps. So a girl can have a boy’s job?”

Your father smirked, and began rowing once more. “The obstacles for her are greater, but…if she really dreams it such and wills herself to, she may.”

He took you to a known spot where the fish of Lake Augustin spawn. Stilling the cymba once more, he pressed his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

You copied him. “Shhhh.”

He smiled as he grabbed the hunting spear behind him, and carefully leaned over the edge of the cymba. He told you that the fish would think the boat was a fallen log, due to the silhouette that it gave in the water; and where there was fallen wood, there was bound to be worms for them to eat, hopefully luring them up.

Beneath the emerald water, he could see the faint silver shine of fish swimming just below. The fish of Lake Augustin were known to be sleek and fast, however; catching one with a spear was said to be a task only the most concentrated could complete.

Your father, Constantinus, was one of these people. Patience perhaps was one of the most important principles a Princeps could possess.

For minutes on end, he stared at the water, waiting for a fish to pass right over his speartip. He was so focused on catching lunch for you that he harbored no thought at all that you were doing the same at the opposite end of the boat.

He only heard it—a splash and a high-pitched grunt as he immediately jerked around. “Julia—!”

Yet what he saw was not his daughter in danger.

Rather, it could be argued that the fish you now carried was in a much more grave circumstance. You had pulled the oval-shaped fish out with nothing but your own bare hands. It was perhaps half your height and a quarter your weight, and it wrestled you as you stumbled around the boat with clenched teeth.

“I have it, I have it! I have it, Fathe—!”

Its slick skin slipped from your grasp.

It flung itself directly into your father's torso, knocking him backwards as he fell into the water. You yelped as the splash rained down on your toga.

At first, what came over you was embarrassment and shame. Turning your head, you saw about a dozen Exetian soldiers rush to unfasten their boats and make their way towards you in a panic.

For certain, you were in trouble!

That was your belief, until you saw your father safely treading water by the cymba, a shocked, but seemingly angerless expression on his face.

“My Julia…”

You gulped. “Yes, Father?”

“Did you catch that fish with your bare hands?”

You temporarily forgot how to respond, confused that that was his most pressing concern.

“Yes. It, erm…came up to me. I reached out my hand, it came closer…then I grabbed it.”

His face was bewildered. Catching these Augustin fish with just bare hands?

Unheard of. Yet, the evidence was right there. At that moment, he could not help but laugh.

After seeing your father belly laugh in the water for almost a minute, you found it safe to do the same.

Father and daughter filled the morning lake with laughter. He climbed back onto the cymba, fully soaked from head to toe, and embraced you.

“Father, you’re cold.”

“You are safe, though, right?”

“Yes? I am the one who must ask that!”

“I am fine. I learned how to swim when I was your age, in this very lake.” He parted from the hug, and waved off the soldiers who were approaching you two with concern. Disgruntled, they turned away.

“My Julia, catching a fish with just her hands…what a story to tell your mother and pedagogue.”

He began his rowing back to shore. “Julia?”

“Yes, Father?”

“When the day comes that you take my place…let girls fight. It will mean more when you say it. Is that a promise?”

You felt a rush of vindication flow through your body at your father’s validation. “Absolutely! I promise on Augustin!”

“Good.” He continued his row back to shore.

“Oh but…Father. Are we not going to catch a fish?”

The great Princeps blinked in realization. “Oh. Right, hahaha. Let us turn back.”

A third amusing story occurred a few years later, when you were ten years of age.

Andromeda had transitioned from your wet nurse to your pedagogue. Though it was tradition that a pedagogue would be male, your gender and your attachment to her made her an exception. It helped that she was decently well-educated.

As she raised you in youth when your parents were busy, she soon realized that your sex mattered not when it came to your drive.

Andromeda described it as a ‘fire’ within you—a sparking blaze behind your eyes that always wanted something more. You absorbed everything she taught you: the reading, writing, and basic arithmetic she knew, you were quickly growing sufficient in.

It came to a point where Andromeda found herself transitioning from your general life-teacher, to an academic one; a role that women were still only just being suited to. Still, she did her best.

In a private chamber in the palace, she sat you down on a couch and quick-tested you on universal concepts. The twilight sun shone through an open window as she sat down in front of you, offering you a grape from the vine in the middle for every answer you got right.

“Name the Seven Paths.”

“Life, Order, Chaos, Light, Shadow, Memory, Illustrae! That is easy, Andromeda.”

“It was. Now the Seven Gods of each Path. Who are THEY, and what is one title we use for THEM?”

You responded with dutiful brevity, speaking of the Gods in a poetic cadence.

“Life is Cailleach the Kind, and Order is Albion the White. Chaos is Ddraig the Red, and the Sun is Lugh of Light. Then came Scathach, the Silver Celestial, and Odin the Mind, from far away. Then finally came Illustrae,”

Andromeda raised a brow at your fleeting uncertainty.

“The pretty Songstress, Lyrinyx!”

Your pedagogue nodded. “Good girl. Now, onto a little history. Tell me, what do you know of Arcadia?”

Your hand raised ever so high and excitedly answered. After all, it was a childhood story of heroism she and your father always told you about, but this time, she was asking you as an academic.

“It was our mother kingdom! So far away from here, that the bravest adventurers cannot reach it. It had walls so strong, no weapon could crack them, and they were so tall no dragon could fly over it. Yet inside was a cowardly king, who hid behind the walls and bullied his people. Then his daughter, Princess Aeaea, ran away to a far-off land, and found a prince who could save her people. Then, the great war began, and ten years later, the walls fell because of the invader’s trickery.”

“Trickery, and?”

“Smartness! The walls came down, and their greatest warrior Akhellion took his spear and slayed the dumb king, who hid in his bed like the coward he was!”

“Good,” Andromeda said, probably stifling a laugh. “Arcadia was an amazing kingdom, but one that became corrupt from within. What does this tell you about ruling?”

“To never let power turn bad. To do good, so that the people you love don’t have to turn against you. Right?”

Andromeda looked amused at your explanation, but you and your bright little mind summarized it as best as you could. Next, she produced two sheets of papyrus from her toga’s pockets and placed them in front of you. On each sheet was an illustration of a weapon.

“What are these weapons to you?”

On the left was a sword, longer than the gladii and spathae you saw soldiers usually wield, painted in white, with a blade whose base split into two halves that angularly twisted around one another, forming an 8-shape before combining back into a long double-sided edge.

On the right was a scipio, colored in ashy brown, with white metallic-like streaks running through the wood. Branches folded out at the top then curled back in, crowning a giant red jewel. If it was life-size, you were certain it would be the largest gem you have ever seen.

These two weapons were also familiar to you. Without hesitation, you spoke the true names of these destined artifacts.

“Caliburn, and Cashie, er, Casterfo…”

“Chastiefol.”

“That one!”

“Yes. And what were the purposes of this sword and scipio?” Andromeda asked.

“To represent Order and Chaos after their Gods fell,” you explained, as succinctly as any student.

“But they have been irrelevant for over a century, because…?”

You smirked and pointed at yourself. “Because we rule over their kingdoms now!”

“Lady Julia,” Andromeda admonished with a corrective glare.

You quickly changed your vocabulary. “Ah, we…assist their governance with our republic burdens and appointed authority, and so they do not need the guidance of divine weapons.”

She nodded and broke off another grape, content with your answer. “That’s better.”

You and Andromeda went back and forth for several minutes. Though you stumbled a handful of times, each answer was ultimately correct. You noticed the impressed exhaustion growing on her face as she, after ten minutes of constantly quizzing you on practically everything she knew, lifted her hands in quiet surrender.

“I think I have reached my limit. You’re a sharp girl, little Lady Julia. If a little excitable.”

“Thank you. I think,” you stood to your feet and looked up at Andromeda—the woman who has been by your side since you had first cried into the world. “I think you are sharp as well.”

Andromeda’s mouth held agape for just a heartbeat. “What makes you say that?”

“Well…sharp things are only sharp because they were sharpened by a sharp thing, right?”

Andromeda giggled. “I think you said ‘sharp’ one too many times, there. But yes, I understand what you mean.”

She bowed. After all, she was, despite your young age, still your humble attendant. “Thank you, Lady Julia.”

Just as you two were finishing up, you both heard a knock at the door. In arrived your mother, a contemplative look on her face as she glanced between the two of you.

“Well?” she asked.

“She’s ready. I’ve told her and taught her as much as I know, Lady Alexandria.”

Relief washed over your mother’s face. “Good. I have just finished arrangements for her next steps.”

Your mother remained tall, refusing to lean down as she approached; perhaps as a small reminder to you that you, despite your brightness, still had a long way to go to full womanhood.

“Lady Julia, would you like to meet your new pedagogue?”

You blinked in surprise. Then again in confusion. Then, you stepped away in refusal. “No, not yet! I still want Andromeda to teach me!”

Andromeda and your mother both nodded at one another. “Andromeda has taught you everything she has known. She has given so much to you the past ten years…why not allow her to rest, hm? And besides, I think you will like your new pedagogue.”

You crossed your arms in youthful defiance. Surely, there was no one as qualified to take you in as much as Andromeda was.

You suckled from her bosom as an infant. You learned to speak with her guidance. You learned to walk holding her hand.

It was hard to beat a woman like that.

Your mother nodded to someone standing just outside, though she was blocking your view of them. Once she stepped to the side, your eyes laid upon…

“A…man?” you silently exclaimed, the hesitation clear in your voice.

It was also then when you heard the stylus of Andromeda fall to the ground as she, too, was confused by this sudden revelation.

“Brother—!?”

You looked between the woman and man. You suddenly realized the resemblance.

Andromeda had a skin tone a shade or two darker than yourself and your mother—as was natural, for she was not a native Exetian, but a Thebian. Thus was the same for her brother. The two even had the same shade of ashen grey hair; though while Andromeda’s was always long, braided and pinned up, her brother’s was cut at the chin.

“I came all the way here for three reasons,” the brother said, his voice as clear as winter ice, polar opposite from the warmth of your still-pedagogue. “One, to see how you were faring as the Principes’ attendant. And,”

He looked up and down at his sister. “You have done quite well for yourself indeed, Andromeda. Those silken robes fit you.”

You watched as Andromeda pinched her nose in embarrassment. “Brother, after five years, the first thing you do is—?”

“Two, I am here for employment. The Princeps requested my expertise in the capital. How could I refuse such an offer?”

He nodded at your Mother, who gave him a knowing, small smile. Finally, he made his way over to you.

“And as for the third…I am here to meet my potential pupil. What is your name?”

He, like your mother, did not lean down to meet you halfway. To meet him as he was, you had to show not stature, but simply will.

“Julia Augusta Alexandria,” you said.

“I see.” His observant gaze finally cracked a grin. “It had crossed my mind that Exetians like to embellish themselves with multiple names. Well, in any case, it is good to make your acquaintance. From henceforth, I will be your pedagogue. My name is Anaxagoras.”

You may or may not have known this at the time, but this meeting of Thebia’s greatest mind would alter your course from just another Princeps—the first of equals—to the one who would shine forever.