There was a time when such treason among the Imperial elite would be unthinkable but with recent events Claudius Aelianus found it somewhat easier to stifle his disbelief. This was a very precarious time, the Empire's mighty invasion force had failed and the bulk of their military was left in ruin, never before had the Empire been faced with such an unprecedented defeat. Naturally it was the way of the weak to find an easy way out, to let greed corrupt them, so when the rumor spread that traitors had turned their backs on the Empire for their own selfish desires he was not surprised. To work with the invaders, to collaborate with them so that they may attempt to destabilize the Empire from the inside. The only appropriate punishment was at the edge of a blade. That was his mission now, as Sergeant of the Guard for the Emperor himself, he and his cohorts were enroute to the estate of Aetius to make him answer for his crimes in blood, it was the will of the Emperor and by his will it would be done. The column of Guardsmen on horseback numbered twenty in total and likely only one or two would need to draw his blade. This would be an easy assignment which he could use to strengthen his loyalty and further his favor in the royal court. Bucking up and down on his stead he now saw the estate coming in view, a modest villa atop a gentle rolling hill surrounded by patches of forests, for a moment he wondered how someone with such privilege could turn their back on the Empire that had so graciously given him his power and status. The notion a noble so wealthy, so powerful to throw it all away and climb into bed with these foreign invaders made his blood boil and he only found comfort in the notion that he would soon be at the end of his sword to answer for his crimes. 

Unbeknownst to Claudius he and his cohorts were being watched. From the moment they had crested the last hill they had been carefully observed. Even if Claudius had been able to see the vast distance between him and his enemy he would be hard pressed to actually spot them. They were wearing suits of cloth and vegetation that perfectly concealed their shape and silhouette. Gunnery Sergeant Dean McKenzie had served as a Scout Sniper for six years and what he was doing was routine at this point. He had been laying up in the shrubbery surrounding the Estate of the defector Aetius for two days straight with his partner when the net finally began to perk up.
"Viper, this is CP. Be advised, possible hostile forces approaching TS-129 at your 12:00 crossing SSL." 
He exchanged a brief glance with his Spotter and shouldered his rifle, he felt his body tense and immediately fought the instinct, relaxing himself and carefully controlling his breathing as he began to scan for a target. The only noise between the two of them were the tense whispers of his Spotter.
"Target, Sector Charlie. Deep. Times twenty. Mounted. Swords. Wide spot on the road."
"Range it."
"870 Yards and closing. Wind three quarter value. Push two left."
"On target."
"Hold scope, fire when ready."
Mckenzie leveled the crosshair of his scope center mass onto the lead horseman, leading a moving target always took a little more concentration but he was confident he'd make the shot. He took a deep breath, held it in and with a gentle squeeze he felt a slight recoil. 

Claudius was in deep thought when the lead man literally dropped dead, tumbling from his horse and forcing him to violently jerk the reigns so he could avoid trampling his lifeless subordinate. "Column, halt!" He shouts with genuine confusion in his voice, holding his fist into the air as the assembly of horsemen stopped in an unorganized mob, their heads frantically searching for the source what had so silently killed their companion. 
Only a brief moment passed before another horseman fell from his horse, a neat hole carved into his chest plate. "Where is it coming from? Claudius demanded, drawing his Gladius from it's sheath.

"Hit."
The most rewarding word a Sniper could ever hear.
"Leaning tree, 860, three quarter value."
The hushed, steady whisper continued from his Spotter as he racked the bolt on his M40A3 and slammed a fresh cartridge into place. He selected the target, steadied his shot and squeezed the trigger. "Hit." The bullet crossed the distance between the muzzle of his rifle and the chest of the horseman so fast it was beyond the comprehension of the men who were desperately trying to find the enemy that was so casually cutting them down. Casual was a good word, these were probably some of the easiest shots he'd ever made before. They were sitting on their horses with no cover, made no attempts to flee and even if they did he would confidently bet his pension that he'd be able to cut them all down before they could get away. He almost felt bad. Almost.

"Hit." Another man down. "Hit." Than another. It was mayhem and Claudius was completely overwhelmed. What was happening? Why were his men dropping dead like this? The horses of fallen riders were galloping away and he had to struggle to maintain control of his, they sensed the danger and instead of trying to fight it they went with their most basic instinct: Run. Claudius had never run from a fight, his honor would never let him but as he saw more and more of his men fall from their mounts he felt that may be his only option. He scanned the trees, the fields and the sky but found no sign of the soulless animal that was raining death onto his men and finally, with his will broken he yanked at the reigns and urged his horse to flee. One glance over his shoulder revealed to him the awful truth that somehow he was the last of the cohort alive and it was during this moment that the bullet entered his skull, destroying his brain and exiting the other side of his head, death was instant. He died without ever knowing what or who had slain him and his companions. 

"Hit. Lucky shot. Decks all clear, Gunny."
The Spotter commented, thumbing his radio.
"Command Post, this is Viper hostile threat down, over." 
"Viper this is CP, we copy your traffic, over." 
With a light pat on the back the Spotter asks; "What do you think was going through their heads down there?"
Grinning, Mckenzie replies. "7.62"