"No army in the world ever relied on the sword," Roger said. He meant it, too.
Every single person Alex consulted said the same. He came to doubt. Was he wrong? Tromping along cold streets in the lonely night, he wondered. Had he sold his sanity to buy pleasantly superior thoughts of a history only he could know?
"Can't be," he thought. Then he said it. "It can't be. The Romans were real. Everyone knows that. What's going on?" His voice rose. "Rome was real!"
"Not for long." The fog swirled, blown about by an unseen power, but then one seen. A figure stepped forth and confronted Alex. "That dead people exists only in memory. Memories I have erased. Yours are the last, and I do not think you will keep them long. Hmph." The ghost of Hannibal raised his spectral sword, a cleaver of thoughts, a destroyer of minds.
Alex reached into his pocket and spoke the words.
Finis
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