Et tu Brute?

 

In the twilight of twisted dreams, like a poorly stitched nightmare, arises corrupt paralysis, that shadow rooted in the soul of our cultures. Like ivy, it climbs and adheres, a persistent echo of poison and decay.

César, victorious in Gaul, returned to Rome, a hero who reaped enemies like one who sows winds. His strength with the people, his cloak as a leader and emperor, awakened ire and fear in hearts longing for his fall. The Senate, lord of Rome in his absence, a triumvirate of shadows imposed its law with an iron fist and icy gaze, weaving a web of corruption, a dark tapestry that covered the eternal city.

Augustus Caesar, heir to a legacy of ashes, took the reins of chaos. With the patience of a craftsman, he untied the knot of the Senate, withdrawing thread by thread its influence, until crowning himself emperor of vast domains, an empire reborn from its own ashes.

He raised Brutus, his adopted son, in the pathways of power, elevating him from praetor to senator. As a teacher and mentor, he taught him the art of governing, but in teaching, sometimes the seed of betrayal is sown. The apprentice, with the lesson well learned, longed for absolute power, an echo of the master in his boundless ambition.

The Ides of March approached, and with them, the shadow of betrayal. The oracle had warned Caesar, but fate is a river whose course cannot be changed. The Senate conspired, their hands stained with ambition, preparing the final blow.

The fateful day arrived, and in the audience hall, twelve men executed their macabre plan. Stab after stab, they tore the imperial mantle, until Brutus, his son, the last to betray, dealt the final blow. "Et tu, Brute?", the words resonated, a lament from father to son, a goodbye to a betrayed dream.

It is the ancestral fear, the master before the rising disciple, the academic paranoia of being replaced, surpassed. Corruption, that germ in our society, was what led to the assassination of Caesar. And Brutus, thirsty for power, tasted the bitter nectar of his own ambition.

--titolugo@mmxxiv