The last emperor of the Julio-Claudian dynasty looked out across the burning landscape, all that could be seen of what had been the world's greatest city, and did not think about the dying and dead. There were only two things on his mind, and the first concerned just whom he could attach the blame onto. The Christians, perhaps: they were always an excellent scapegoat.
But there was also the matter of the white unicorn who was merrily capering on his right. Laughing, as blue eyes blazed with more than reflected firelight.
Crossly, "And what are you so happy about?"
"Don't you see?" the mare openly cheered. "The toga look is finally out!"