Justinius never liked holding court, he found the eyes of the courtiers on him more like hungry wolves stalking prey. He much preferred leaving Theadora to deal with the wolves while he was more than happy to deal primarily with his clergy and his Magister Militum, the generals that commanded his wars. He was never more thankful for this dynamic than he is now with how poorly the war with Persia was going, and going over the reports Justinius could not help but sigh.

“I take it you are not pleased with something, my Augustus?” Narses asked of the clicking of his abacus, idle concern played across his rounded face.

“This war is a near thing Narses,” Justinius told him. “With our supplies we could wage war for a decade if need be, there are even the numbers to field the armies. What we lack are the Magister Militum. Flavius shows promise, great promise, but like me he seems to lack the ability to politic.”

“Even the Agusta could not sway the court after Callincum,” Narses said with a nod.

“And if my dear wife couldn’t do it then no one could,” Justinius sighed and shuffled through his sheaf's of papyrus. “With him recalled back here to the city and Shah Kavadh besieging Martyropolis we might have to pay any price to sue for peace. I had hoped Mundus would have turn the tide.”

“Then the raids forced your hand,” Narses nodded.

“Back to Illyicum he will go in a matter of days, half way to Persia only to turn back to whence he came. Then still we are in need a Magister Militum Per Orientem for the Persian war,” Justinius huffed and sank into his chair. “If Theadora didn’t tell me that I would loose the fleeting favor of those in court if I left the city I would go there myself. The court has become my own Gordian Knot and I am with out a blade to cut its bindings.”

“At least tomorrow is the Ides,” Narses said, “distract yourself for a few hours with the races.”

“I can only try,” Justinius hummed, “the work of a ruler is never finished.”

Shifting through more reports he finds one dated of this morning. Reading it over he hummed, “Narses, were you aware of two criminals that escaped execution yesterday?”

“I believe I heard some gossip,” Narses replied. “Is there new information on their whereabouts?”

“The Church of Saint Laurence,” Justinius says as he rubs his face in frustration. “The clergy is protecting them. My friend I grow weary with this, the Church of Saint Laurence is across the Bosporus and the journey in this winter is no easy feet for those just from death's door. And here it is that help, monks from the Monastery of Saint Conan stole them away.”

Allowing himself a brief moment to wallow in the ramifications of his church and clergy interfering with legal matters already said and done Justinius pressed his thumbs to his temples. Then with a deep and clearing breath he stood sharply from his desk and strode to the door. With a face of quiet rage he cut his path through the Palace in search of Tullus the City Prefect.

The surly man was always found in the guard house, as aged but more well worn than Justinius he oversaw his duties as the law keeper of the city with a patient and dispassionate efficiency. Jaded as he is he still stood the moment his Augustus entered his office and offered a bow.

“Your Eminence,” Tullus greeted, “to what honor do you grace me with you presence. Shall I call for refreshments?”

“No need,” Justinius dismissed his offer, “I am only here for a report drew my attention. The day before it seems monks from the Monastery of Conan stole away two criminals meant for the hangman's noose. With them in tow they stole across the Bosporus and took shelter in the Church of Saint Laurence. The report states that the guard have settled in for a siege of a kind on the church. Now tell me Tullus, my trusted Prefect of Constantinople, why am I learning of this escape on the marrow of its event and not moments after?”

“An oversight that is not of my own, my Augustus,” Tullus answered and offered the page he was reading. “I am of the same unfortunates kind as you that has only just learned of this event, I was reading my very own missive of this as you entered. Though mine makes no mention of any monks left alone their monastery of practice. It appears that some bellow us are in the sway of those that wish us dumb.”

Justinius read over the page offered once, then twice, then thrice just to be certain. Indeed many of the details are different and some are missing out right. But whose was more accurate his or Tullus’s? Justinius flipped the page over to look for any markings but it was blank.

Justinius looked over the Tullus’s desk and the shelves along the wall that held binds of pages and scrolls. This began to stink of intrigue of a kind he was familiar with but ultimately unable to contend with. Though there was one he knew he could trust and confide in that would be able to weave this new web into her own for his benefit. With a dicision made he rolled the page and tucked it into his robes.

“Act as if you know nothing Tullus,” Justinius ordered. “When an enemy thinks you blind and dumb it is all the better for you to act as if it is true. Leave the worrying's of the greater ploy to me and act your part, keep the law and be weary of those of the court.”

“As always my Augustus,” Tullus offered a small smile and bowed his head as Justinius left. Then he sighed, “I should retire.”