Although the soldiers still hope against hope, you can see in all the messengers racing into the palace that the wolves are already at the door of the Empire; I dread to imagine how many knives are sharpening among Alexander's generals for how many backs in the rush for power.

I have heard a rumor that, these days, only the physician and faithful Bagoas keep the vigil by Alexander's bed - his deathbed, I am afraid. Everyone else is far too busy fighting over the spoils of the living.

I hope Alexander is unconscious - I would not want him to know that this is how they treat him, after so many years.