"Father-in-law," Constantine's soft voice echoed in the tense hall at Arelate. "It seems your mourning period was brief."
Maximian, his hands bound, his face a mask of purple rage, drew himself up. The pathetic, cornered old man vanished, replaced for a moment by the defiant glare of a man who had once worn the imperial purple. "You were reported dead! A casualty of your own reckless ambition! I acted to preserve order in Gaul, to rally the legions against the chaos!"
"You acted to seize my treasury and my legions," Constantine countered, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He took a slow step forward. "You used a lie to attempt a theft. Not of gold, but of an empire. This is your second betrayal of a solemn oath. The first was at Carnuntum. This is your last."
