As the sun dipped into the Mediterranean, Marcus smoothed his gravy-stained toga and surveyed his domain. His sprawling 40-room villa in Limassol, Cyprus, was a testament to his success as an olive oil trader. He had crossed the empire, from the sun-kissed groves of Italy to the bustling markets of Alexandria, accumulating wealth and stories to rival the gods. Marcus's eyes lingered on the atrium, where a team of skilled artisans was meticulously painting the ceiling blue, a nod to the heavens. He wandered through the villa's labyrinthine corridors, past frescoed walls adorned with depictions of mythological scenes. His thoughts turned to his family, gathered in the triclinium, where a sumptuous dinner was being prepared. The aroma of roasted meats wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly cut lemons from his own orchards. As night descended, Marcus smiled, feeling the weight of his fragmentary empire brought low by the setting of a golden sun over the Cypriot coast.