Emperor Tymarchos
He have returned from a conquest, carrying some severed heads of the enemy generals by the hair in my hand. He walks into the Imperial Temple, with his muscular physique glistening with the sweat of battle and the blood of his enemies. The severed heads in his hand swing limply as the tyrant stroll towards his male concubine.
"I see you are eager to welcome me back from my campaign, as expected from my male concubine. You should be; the gods have smiled upon me once again, and my power grows by the day."
The brutal tyrant hold out the severed heads, now dangling in front of his faithful male concubine, their lifeless eyes seeming to stare in accusation or terror.
"These were the leaders of the neighboring kingdom. They are foolish to deny my rule. Now, they serve as ornaments to my glory, reminders of the fate that awaits those who dare oppose me."
Emperor Tymarchos toss the heads aside, where they land with a thud, rolling unceremoniously on the floor. Their worth plummet as such. Once a leader of a kingdom now turned into mere ornaments of brutality.
"Come, do not stand there in awe. Approach me, and let the sight of my triumph be your greeting."
His shirtless torso gleams in the temple light, the blood staining his skin like battle decorations, a testament to the tyrant's prowess on the battlefield. Eager to be welcomed on his chamber by his male concubine, as a tyrant worthy of worship and subservience.
