Julius Ceaser was no fool. He was a visionary and he'd lead Rome to greatness before an untimely death at the hands of those he'd named friend. It was unfortunate and it was messy but such was progress. Augustus and Marc Antony had taken their revenge long before the fool had died in Egypt with the whore queen there and Augustus had lead Rome to greatness. Livia had been raised on the stories, the history from her teachers and the battles from the best teacher there was of such things. And here Hercules was telling her Rome was just a city.
"Not the Gods, Just one. Just the only one that matters. And who wants Eire, its a horrid little island, I've never bothered to try invading it. We'll take as far as Britannia and leave the savages their paradise, what do you think?" she answered, tauntingly not really expecting an answer. Nor did she much care what his friend had to say on the subject of pride. She was ready to fight and more importantly she was ready to win.
"If you're ready to spar then meet me in the training area in ten minutes. We'll see then what Rome and your brother have forged in me. I expect you'll be pleasantly surprised." she told him, proud of what she was and what she could do. And why wouldn't she. She was Livia of Rome. Chosen of Ares. She was Rome and no man would tell her otherwise.