Gothic Siege Spells Doom: Remistus’ Last Stand Betrays Rome!

Rome, 24th January, 410 AD - Just when you think things can't get any worse for our beloved Empire, we're hit with another calamity that begs the question: Who's actually running this show?

Now, I'm not saying that we're staring down the barrel of a Gothic siege, but... Oh, who am I kidding? That's exactly what I'm saying!

You see, it's not every day that you watch a horde of barbarians set up camp on your doorstep. But don't worry, folks! Our esteemed general, Remistus, has got a plan. A last stand, they call it. Splendid! Isn't it just great when the best strategy our leaders can muster is akin to a gladiator going into the Colosseum armed with a feather?

Make no mistake, this isn't about Remistus' bravery. The man’s got guts; I'll give him that. But it's his leadership—or lack thereof—that has left us in this precarious situation. Where is the strategic genius of Scipio Africanus when you need it? Probably off in some villa, spinning in his urn.

Now, I'm not one to say "I told you so" (who am I kidding, of course I am), but isn't this the inevitable result of our incessant meddling with foreign tribes? We let these Goths in, and they turn around and lay siege to our great city. It's like inviting a wolf to dinner and then acting surprised when he eats the family cat!

And yet, here we are, dear Romans, watching as our city—the very heart of civilization—is threatened by a mob of unwashed barbarians in pelts. Honestly, the smell alone should be considered an act of war.

So what does our dear general Remistus plan to do? Fight them off, he says, with our brave soldiers...most of whom are, you guessed it, Goths! We've become so reliant on foreign fighters, we're practically asking them to stab us in the back.

What happened to our Roman legions, the storied warriors of our past? Well, they're busy policing the provinces, while our capital is left to the mercies of a Gothic horde. It's like leaving the gates of your villa open because your guard dog is busy chasing rabbits in the countryside.

Ah, but fear not, dear reader. For even as we stand on the precipice of disaster, our dear Remistus has the audacity to reassure us of our 'inevitable victory.' Inevitable, indeed; as inevitable as a hangover after a Bacchus festival.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, it's high time we took a hard look at the state of our Empire. Our leaders appear