Heroes of Republic: Ancient Roman Super Heroes

[StrigaRosa]

Night offered the rider no solace.

His steed complained, its protests ignored. The knight felt eyes on his back, a sense of paranoia that lingered no matter how many times he rode in circles or how much he avoided the beaten paths. He had abandoned roads and trails, choosing the hills and woodlands instead. Few animals crept under the light of the stars; his only company his thoughts and the occasional glance of a scarlet figure. Even that might be no more than a manifestation of his burdened conscience.

The hooves of his beast, striking the hard earth, were not the only ones piercing the nocturnal silence. She was always one step behind him, breathing down on his neck, reminding him of misguided youth and hasty vows. He had touched someone's soul and send their shades into the Underworld; his essence was all over their final breath. She had caught the scent and was in pursuit.

The cold grip in his chest, shredding through his heart, left no space for doubt.

The horse was not privy nor able to understand the apprehension seizing its riders' mind; the animal only knew it could just not go any further. Slave lost to horse, setting camp for the night. Old habits drilled from an early age die hard, the man not even noticing as he formed a defensive perimeter and gathered wood for a campfire. Staring at the branches and kindling, he hesitated in summoning a spark. He gave up to caution and suffered the cold.

Shivering in his dirty cloak and unable to keep his eyes shut, the rider backtracked in his decision and lit the fire. As soon as the flames roused, he found a scarlet blur at his side, face hidden under a lowered hood. The slave dropped his cloak and rose, exchanging the little warmth for a glacial confrontation.

The new arrival approached him, the little that was perceivable of her feminine face frozen in disappointment. With the careful and energetic stance of an athlete, she delivered a verbal punch that almost ended up this bout in the first round.

"I have no illusions about the man that I bought, Tabula Rasa." Her tone was too calm, disturbing in how little care she was putting behind each word, as affectionate as the granite slab over a grave. The slave had never heard Lidia speak without exploding with optimism and trust. "If I choose a soldier, the only person I can blame when he behaves like a soldier is myself. It was idiotic from me to hold different expectations."

"Malice did not guide my hand."

"And yet you did not stay from delivering a lethal blow, Sextus."

"They were in my way and compromised my mission." Sextus, the man that was knight and slave, stated - without much sincerity. He had spent the entire day telling himself the same words.

"You seem to misconstrue the purpose of the mission. I expect you to further reflect on that issue." She then seemed to ease up in relief. "At least you did not call upon your Triumph."

"I thought I was under strict orders not to so." Sextus raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I advised careful judgment; the call of when and if to use it falls upon your shoulders. You must respect that power, and if you choose to yield it poorly and for the wrong purpose, you insult its symbolism and invite danger into the world. It is irrelevant what I tell you, all that matters are your choices. Just as it did today."

"You keep mentioning dangers, but I still do not know exactly what you mean." The rider inquired, a bit annoyed at the posturing. "Forgive me, Lidia, you keep hinting that this is not an entirely safe process but you avoid going into details."

She finally smiled, embarrassment replacing her usual cockiness.

"It is not that I do not want to tell you. I am trying to avoid misleading you. As a Celestial Triumphant do not believe myself familiar enough with the telluric nature of an Infernal to give you useful information, Sextus. All I have are assumptions based on observation of third parties and educated guesses. I would say that your kind draws from the crude reality of the human experience, while I am more attuned to platonic forms, pure concepts and abstractions divorced from mortality."

"How so? Base instincts, the very things that lead to violence or greed? Can a Triumph be something inherently vile, that will eventually tarnish our divine spark?" The slave was very uncomfortable at the implications created by Lidia's statement. He knew there was a darkness in his spark, but inherent evil was another matter entirely.

"Those are extreme cases, something that can happen when you tap deep into primal myths and cores and I've seen Celestials and Infernals alike give in to corruption. I will not lie to you, deceit would only cause more long term damage. Your very identity is at risk; every time you call Triumph upon you, no matter its origin or flavor, it will try to overwhelm and rewrite the self of the Triumphant. I would say that on the case of the Infernii, they are just more exposed to certain aspects of their own very human flaws, risking to lose themselves within and slowly becoming exaggerated caricatures of the person they used to be - it just hits closer to home." Lidia presented that hypothesis. "You are still too green, you do not even know what you don't know. Once you do, I can present you to an old friend of mine; they have forgotten more about Triumph than anyone else ever knew. For now, you must thread the night blind."

The rider sat down in front of the fire.

"You have given me a lot to think about, Aeneid." A pause and a contentment smile. "Thank you."

A deathly neigh in the distance.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Sextus limited himself to a nod.

"I will handle her, get whatever rest you can manage. I will have need of you soon enough, so find out the person you want to be. Do not let yourself be beaten by the first obstacle you face within, Tabula Rasa." So spoke the scarlet blur, fading into the night.

With dawn, enlightenment. Sextus tore his cloak and picked up his spear, tip pointed towards him. He bound the blade with careful dedication, blunting it. The first step, a pact of his determination in guiding his Triumph with the best of his humanity.

The determination to become more than an empty slate.

To be Virtue.

 

[StrigaRosa]

The Third Class Princess woke up coughing, surrounded by moist mist and toxic smoke. Around her the ship was torn apart; covering her mouth and staring at the nearest monitor, she was quick to accept the inevitable.

The ship had endured more than eighty years of voyage, twenty more than they hoped it would survive. As a vessel its days were over, but what a wonderful pyre it would be. The Princess rushed her search, knowing that as Second Class, she was expected to play an active role in her own end - none of this going quietly into the Underworld.

She opened a side panel, in which, against the protests of her companion and the ship's simple mind, she had smuggled various weapons. Checking her sensors, she found the only active life-signs hers and her feeble companion's.

Confident that they were not being assaulted, she ran towards the prow of the ship. The majority of the systems had been destroyed beyond repair, the culprit laying in the middle of the chaos; the irradiated projectile of a fire-thrower of the Hegemony.

The Princess approached, sweating comets. If it was to blow inside the hull, it would be enough to reduce the entire ship to dust. A cable moved, making her turn and point a weapon in that direction. A lean mean figure of long fingers emerged from the darkness, narrowing his eyes in disapproval; it took them an eternity to even give a side glance towards the engine of destruction.

"Do not worry about this." Slave-Scientists had no grades or classes, and even if they had, none would encompass Doero Prodótis' unique genius. "I disarmed it. The ship is beyond repair, but at least we will not be claimed by fire."

"How did the Hegemony find us? We braved the furthest routes and uncharted systems." The Princess lifted her head, haughty towards the Fates. "All to end in the cold void that birthed us. So be it, but let it not be said that Iphigenia left reality shivering in a corner."

"Probe-Escapeboats." The Slave-Scientist ignored the fatalistic words of the woman, focusing in different issues. She took this opportunity to pay attention to his tired eyes and weakened limbs: he had not been awakened by the conflict. His worn body betrayed that he had been roused multiple times in order to perform repairs. The mystery of the ship's longevity was not a mystery any longer. "They patrol between the systems of Captivity worlds, auto-aiming for the faintes life-signs they detect. Treacherous nasty little things; nothing compared to the great ships that pursue us."


"At least I get to bid your farewell." The Princess held his shriveled form within her arms. "My dearest accomplice, who will now carry the torch of rebellion?"

"You will." Something groaned behind Iphigenia, the woman feeling a painful twinge in her neck before she could turn around. Her eyes rolled, Prodótis stuffing a rag in her mouth so she would not bite her tongue. "I was hoping to not have to proceed with this plan, but there is no other way. Relax, Princess, try to remember everything you are, for all of that must be sent. I'm working with a very old mind-state framework."

Lights blinked, Iphigenia struggling not to fall unconscious. The Slave-Scientist had fully mapped her ego, sending it across the starts to accomplish their mission.

"What will be of you?"

He averted his gaze, measuring how many lies he could tolerate to bear.

"There is not enough time or energy to send another complete copy. I had some older mind-states, out of date but trustworthy. I can splicein some personality, pick my knowledge apart and assemble that mess into something resembling an human intellect. I will manage."

"A horrible man until the end." Iphigenia coughed, holding Prodótis' hand. "I forbid you; do not send me. If only one can go, it must be you. You are the one that can craft all those beautiful things, the one that offered the glimpse of a universe beyond want and the evil it spews forth."

"Cruelty still reigns over the homeworld, Iphigenia. I would not survive alone in such savagery. It must be you, there are no alternatives worth discussing." The Slave-Engineer kissed her with more despair than passion. "No matter how broken I am, find me. No matter what it takes, promise me you will never give up looking for me. We already lost too much time, I cannot stand another life without you."

She closed her mouth, trying to form the right words. Her eyes shut for the last time, promises unsaid.

*​

Orcus felt the Sun burning their face. They reached blindly for their hat, failing to find it. Bored and with little patience left, they forced themselves to open their eyes, letting only the bare minimum light slip in.

They caught the glimpse of something just as golden and bright. Lidia stood in front of them, her long loose hair, hood lowered as she tried on their rustic hat.

"Does it look good on me?" She asked, adjusting it slightly. "A bit too large for my empty head, don't you think?"

It could not be real. It must be some more of the Greek's trickery. Orcus' heart betrayed them; for a moment forcing them to share the memory of a blond child, dilapidated and snotty, holding that same hat.

They dared to believe that even immortal giants could have their dreams come true. They pushed her aside and got up, looking around to their sheep; there they were, grazing or resting under that shadow of the few trees atop the rolling hills of Etruria. They were not imagining things, the woman was really there. Lidia embraced them - all of their considerable girth, - crying, unabashed by any of the dignity expected of an adult woman. Pure, unrestrained emotion.

They had missed her so much.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! It was my fault, Orcus." Lidia refused to release them. "If I had stayed here, the others would still be alive. I could have protected them."

Orcus did not project any response to that. They had escaped whatever had destroyed the previous group by severing the tenuous bounds they shared. Wars and departures had changed the tone of the Corvii into something they could no longer call family.

Lidia let them loose.

"My actions since my return have been disappointing. I am yet to take the reins in a way that my responsibilities demand. I was so convinced that I would restore the Nest, offer Rome some New Corvus.

While the giant was happy to see Lidia, they had no patience for those lacking in conviction; they prefered to turn their attentions to the cattle instead. In a gesture of gentle affection, they sent Lidia an image of herself, glorious while leading a small legion of Triumphants.

"An army?" Lidia covered her mouth, chuckling. "I would be happy with five!"

The good humor vanished as the woman noticed the burns across Orcus' arm. Without waiting for permission, she grabbed the limb and got her face closer to it, eyes bulging and mouth agape."

"Impossible! How did someone hurt you?" Aeneid touched Orcus' gray skin with her nose and took a deep breath. "The wound is quite fresh. Who could have done this? Goats never had strong elementalists, the Phoenix had that Dido Felix or what was her name, but she died without a replacement during the Punic War. No faction in this corner of the world should have someone this powerful. I should know, I have been looking for them."

Orcus pulled their arm against their chest, gently massaging it. To ease Lidia's speculations, they presented her with a recollection of the events that had transpired, a young woman rushing across portals and corridors underneath Etruscan catacombs. She did not seem to be there willingly, fearful of every shadow, her face twisted by terror; something jumped towards her, forcing her to call down a pillar of flames.

"That garb does not leave much space for doubt. That was a Vestalis." Lidia crossed her arms, describing circles around Orcus. "There are at least four temples of Vesta whose communities still support the old priest order. It might not be much but it limits my search to less than thirty people. That is already something."

She stared at Orcus, her eyebrows arching in a pronounced manner.

"If you know something, you must tell me, Orcus. The wrong people cannot get to her before I do. Rome needs her. I need her."

Nothing.
Lidia adjusted her aim."Who is Quirinus, Orcus."
One of the sheep bleated.
"Who is Quirinus, Orcus."
Orcus looked to Aeneid top to bottom. They put one of their enormous hands over the tall woman's shoulder.
"There is no way he could be one of us, right? I am ready to do all that I need, but I can't raise my hand against family."
Instead of a reply, Orcus grabbed Lidia as if she was a child, holding her in their arms and walking away with heavy steps. As their living beard caressed the woman's face, they showed her a vision of the Nest. Not the ruin she had returned to, the true Nest.
"Alright, enough talk. Let's go home."

 

[StrigaRosa]

It was disturbing how much this region of the peninsula was emptiness. The soil itself rejected becoming scenery for mismanaged farms and ghost villages. The genius loci was a temperamental creature, unable to tolerate the human presence for more than a few months at a time.

He was an invader in nomad territory.

Tabula Rasa was aware of the threat these people presented. Time and time again Rome and Samnites faced off, the success of one's lifestyle predicated upon the misery of the other. Plebeians and patricians were all too eager to accept the convenient lie, that three generations of peace had changed the attitude of saddle and cattle folk towards their sedentary farmer "friends". The neighboring allies still heard galloping screamers through the night could not forget the one absolute truth about the Samnites: Those that herd, war.

The Latin war machine could not protect Sextus anymore. If the Samnites caught him, there would be no opportunity for his message to be heard. His body would be quartered and violated, killed in exchange for two hundred and ninety-nine pieces of silver.

The Underworld was omnipresent, touching the mortal world in even the most remote sites. Feeling its call, he found a tomb hidden behind elms: a tiny brick house, made from precious squares carved from volcanic rock. Perfect place to spend the night.

Silence was not part of the nocturnal imperative, something caused distress to the animal life. Sextus barely slept, wondering if it would not have been better to descent to the Underworld and rest in that peculiar insecurity. He woke up next morning with an aching head and baggy eyes, stumbling without a clear aim, clumsily looking for the source of all the upheaval.

A trail of horse hooves. Many different sizes, left by beasts other than his own. Much more distressing were the lighter ones, left by an animal without the typical equestrian sandals. Caressing the grass around those, he found himself catching something shining and crimson. Pomegranate arilli.

Whistling for his mount, they trotted away from that night.

*​

Another day of travel ensued, with no soul crossing his path, off or on trail. Signs of camping did not fail to present themselves, stones scorched by flames, trampled grass and burnt animal bonus.

Setting camp of his own, Tabula Rasa gave himself permission to believe that there was nothing outside of the realm of normalcy going on. The fires in the horizon? Just camps, just like this one.

Nothing more.

Sextus was not certain about what had roused him from his sleep, if it was the heatwave or the rain-less thunderclap. Vigilant, he examined his surroundings. In a hill not that far away, a mare appeared so suddenly that it almost seemed to sprout from the ground. This was no mortal beast, for its head was impressively missing and stuck in its neck was an igneous iron rod.

*​

So, this was going to be the day he died.


It was hard for Sextus to accept, not when the morning had started so serene. Finding no trails, he risked braving alluring woods with the intent of restocking supplies. A pair of rabbits, a par of mushrooms and a filled water-skin; he then noticed the falcons.

Trained birds.

This had been a trap.

Tabula Rasa thought for a moment about turning back or staying where he was. Eyes in the sky would keep the Samnite up to date to the developments and the more time he gave them, the better prepared they would be. His death was not his most pertinent worry; t he had oblated his life long ago. He found an empty trunk in which to hide the money and carved with his knife a bull and a crow, hoping that Lidia would find someone wiser to continue his mission. Crossing beyond the tree line, his thoughts wandered; how much violence would he allow himself as a final act of defiance?

In his hands, the spear - still bound.

A massacre awaited him beyond the treeline.

An altar stood atop a wooden platform, headed by the great mother - goddess Kerres - and seven of their animal-touched children, all incarnated in beautiful wooden effigies. Horses with saddles of wool and leather stood nearby, the Bruttii style of the harness betraying the affiliation of the nomadic herders. Vengeance, banditry or sacrifice, whatever drove their plans towards him would be a mystery for the ages.

None of the riders remained in a state that allowed answers.

An enormous figure clad in black armor stood over the corpses, its members entwined with lighting and fury. It turned slowly, right hand describing a circle over the deformed helmet, hiding itself behind an impious bloody mockery of the crimson face of a triumphant general. The blood drops that dripped from his hands and from the bodies seemed to dance and jump in an aberrant manner, seemingly forming words, the dim strokes of Rex, Rex, Rex. Repeated over and over, until the word lost all meaning, just something that dragged the surroundings towards its Triumph. In the midst of that being, a spark cried:

Rex.

Sextus clenched his hands around the spear's haft, dismounting and keeping a safe distance. The very air seemed to shine with attractive distortion, making him doubt his quest. Why would he reject his military training, why yearn to be more than a simple soldier? If Lidia had not place for him as he was, others would. There is always merit in service - serving someone for servitude sake was its own reward.

The figure extended its hand, palm turned down. Sextus felt his knees weaken. This overwhelming presence and alien nature dispelled one of his erroneous assumptions, untouched by Lidia's words. Just because one was touched by the Celestial, that did not meant they were virtuous beings nor that they tapped into commendable platonic forms. Planting his spear in the ground and drying the sweat falling down his brow, Tabula Rasa surrendered to the inevitable. There was no other way, he had to call upon his Infernal powers.

He could hear his blood coursing through his veins, the chemical orgy of new cells as they divided - eager to replace dying tissue. The entire chaotic chorus of being alive and the invisible but powerful divine spark that permeated all of his being stirred something primal and telluric. Strange in how familiar it was, even as it awakened something new.

A neigh interrupted Sextus and his moment of discovery. The mare from last night entered the scene, carrying the bag of money in its non-existent mouth. Dropping the precious load at the feet of Tabula Rasa, it stared him down in a way that left no space of ambiguity. As Sextus retreated, the mare charged towards Quintius Fulminator, burning iron aimed at its chest. Grabbing the pieces of silver with a single hand, Sextus prepared to lose himself in the woods.

He did not dare to look back.

The coin for Kerres had not been returned; the debt to the Samnites grew.

 

[StrigaRosa]

Horseless with no friend in the world.
Sextus sought civilization; he returned to the closest city – Venusia. He had risked too much facing the Samnites; infernal patrons and celestial enemies would not always intervene, he had to be prudent if he was to accomplish his mission.
The bustle of Venusia's streets made Sextus wonder if he had arrived during some festival or holy day. A small but spirited carriage entered the city through the opposite gate, swiftly capturing the curiosity of the locals. His first impression was that some Italian had spent too much money on a deathtrap on wheels; that notion was quickly dispelled – no wealthy Italian would have a lictor as a driver. Guessing the identity of the passenger, Sextus tried to disappear amid the crowd; head down, hat-covered face, hunched spine and spear serving as a walking cane.

His attempt at discretion was foiled by the aggregating human mass. Sextus was dragged along the carriage, walking by as the driver dismounted and let the Numidian horses rest. As the door slid open, everyone's gaze focused towards the stylized symbol painted on it: a bowl holding a rising flame. A youth with curly hair jumped out of the carriage, pulling her tunic down as she bent over and looked at something underneath the vehicle. She rose, whistling with sparkling eyes, hands joined with hips in a triumphant pose: "Tarpeia was right, this new suspension box is a wondrous little thing."
Sextus redoubled his efforts at discretion, having recognized the woman as the Vestalis Arpineia. Unfortunately, the arrival of a priestess of Vesta only drew more people than the luxurious car, making it impossible for the slave to escape.
Sextus' elusion efforts caught the attention of the lictors, their eyes appraising his potential as a threat. As he sped up, more heads turned towards him, forcing one of the bodyguards to lean and whisper at Arpineia's ear. The Vestalis' smile disappeared as she reluctantly approached Sextus; the crowd parted to welcome her.
The priestess stared into his eyes, barely reining her apprehension. The slave did not dare to meet her gaze, fingers clenched into fists as he shook - it was too soon a reencounter. Arpineia raised one hand towards him, only to halt mid motion and step back. Without a word, she returned to her carriage.
"Wait", begged the slave. "I think we own each other a honest discussion about what happened."
Arpineia turned around, daring to hope. Before Sextus' resolve had a chance to falter, she placed a bundle of warped parchment in his hands.

*​

A villa of Roman styling constructed near a newfangled amphitheater, part of an ambitious complex that sought to lure prestigious guests and wealthy travellers towards Venusia. It was a small house perfect for small gatherings; privacy served Sextus well as he waited in the atrium for the priestess.
His eyes wandered over the letters again.
My dearest Sextus Sergius, it is so weird to speak to you through letters, letters that I do not know where to send even if I were to dare and do just that. My problems seem so small when compared with fighting to protect everything we know from certain destruction. Canuleia and Gegania believe that I need to talk with someone about what happened in the Temple of Saturn. It pains me to admit, but even a self-assured cow like Canuleia, can sometimes be right. Probably nobody, much less you, will ever read these words, but it will bring me peace. I was torn away from my futile research by the most unexpected of visitors. Aeneid paid me a courtesy visit, under the pretext of checking on me and how I was dealing with my trials at the Temple of Saturn. She – and yes, she, the rumours about this Triumphant are true – is the more exciting person I had ever met. We were at it for hours. Today was a good day, in which I discovered very interesting things about me.
"She is ready to defy the negative influence of Quirinus Niger Fulminator that holds Rome in thrall." The slave raised an eyebrow as the priestess went on. "She has big plans for me. Something about how infernal and telluric affinities are the perfect counter to heavenly thunder and I can buy her time. I cannot say I understand what she meant by that; but her need seems urgent."
"I understand that part, but why you?" Sextus asked. "Why, of all people in Rome, she approached you? It is crazy dangerous."
His eyes lowered, remember something he had read, his heart sinking into a quagmire.

Frustration kept piling up, Sextus, testing my willpower. Ovidia is quick to remind me that I am in the best position I can be, that we have the opportunity to do things outside of the reach of any other women in Rome. So what? I say that what we do is not enough! To my left I have you facing the Gauls, to my right Aeneid facing tyranny and protecting us from our worst excesses. And what do I do, Sergius? "A Vestalis should be above such concerns, a Vestalis should be above such concerns, a Vestalis should be wholesale focused with the preservation of the Roman culture, community and learning." Am I to remain a recluse, copying old texts and assuring that no knowledge is lost to time? That is not why I became a Vestalis; I took this position to learn new things and to use them to improve people's lives. I need to do something meaningful.
"Because I am the best she can get. I can recommend someone else, I understand if you cannot work with me." Worry tainted the slave's face; in her lonely impotence, Arpineia was easy to manipulate.
The two stared at each other, pondering how to even discuss such life-changing events - this time without burning bridges.
"How have you been, Sextus?" The priestess attempted to ease tension. "I would never have had pictured a city boy like you wandering up and down the peninsula."
"That has become my duty." Replied the slave, bluntly. "Such voyages are the means through which I will buy my freedom. That is all the satisfaction I need to get from them."
They gave each other a side glance, Arpineia exploding in laughter as she tackled the man; Sextus feigned to be struggling to push her back.
"You don't have to be alone." Arpineia whispered as Sextus rolled his eyes on her hair."It does not have to be me, there are others that care about you."
Nobody knows what happened to you, Sergius; those that might know are not talking. Concern haunts me, almost ruining my offering in the sacred grove of the nymph Egeria. A swarm of butterflies surrounded my oblation of milk and honey. The auspices could not be better, I finally know what to do, but despite that, I was never so afraid. Someone must do it. I will prepare an expedition and restore the books of Numa Pompilius an expedition and restore the books of Numa Pompilius to the Roman people.
Those were the words of someone that never stopped being his friend. Silence descended between the two.
"I should not have argued with you about joining the war." Arpineia's eyes narrowed into two slits. "They say you were a hero; they say you saved us all."
"I am no hero. I was foolish and I might have caused more damage than I helped. You were right, I should not have gone North."
Sextus lifted his head and forced a smile.
"But I changed, you changed." Smile turned into a frown. "My personal growth required me to give up all toxicity permeating my life, to carve my own path for liberation. You are one of the few things of my old life I want to keep."

Arpineia did not contain her tears, biting her clenched fist; she did not dare to make any noise.
"Sextus." The priestess, a mess of drool and snot. He had never had seen her like that - even when they recovered her brother's scarf. "These months have been unbearable."
"I missed you." Sextus hugged Arpineia. "I'm sorry I did not try to reconnect before, I needed to find myself. Sort out who I really am away from my family and their expectations and demands."
"It is Davinia and Sextus again! Nobody can stop us now that I have you by my side."
"I hope Lidia does not ask anything risky from you."
"Her name is Lidia? Interesting." Arpineia took note. Reluctant, she freed herself from the hug and presented her palms in a deferential gesture. "If we are working together again, can I ask you a favor?"
"Arpineia…" Sextus shook his head, feigning disappointment. Some things never change.
"I face a disastrous problem that I cannot tackle on my own. Something kept under my care has been used to steal from the Treasury and Senate. This is a tricky case, and I need the best investigative mind that the gens Sergii has ever produced."
Sextus clenched his fingers together in a pyramid.
"Tell me everything."

 

[StrigaRosa]

The Roman army slowly marched towards the Padus River, implacable in its devastation; such was the retribution the Republic demanded for the fallen consul. They would not stop until all Insubre and Boii tribes had been repelled from the southern bank.
Aritimesia followed the legions as they campaigned through this country of stillness and isolation; solitude was the law of the land, the Gauls were expelled but no Etruscan daring to return home.
It was a good place for a former terrorist to disappear. All she needed was a nice hole, a few traps and a lot of blankets.
It was not a cheerful existence, days passing by without hope or future.
Her bleak routine was interrupted by an unlikely meeting. She crawled out of her hideout to find a woman sleeping under a nearby tree, her fair skin and hair darkened by olive oil. Her first instinct was to rob the woman and disappear. She hesitated; only the bold dared to travel these lands. That thought made Aritimesia feel some affinity with the woman. Her scent was homely and familiar, the human warmth something she deeply missed. She felt at ease for the first time after leaving Veii; she nested besides the other woman and rested for a bit.
Aritimesia woke up to find an arm around her, closing into a hug before she could react. The woman smiled and pressed her lips against her left cheek, the friendly kiss of peers.
"Are you hungry?" She did not wait for a reply, splitting a small bread and handing half to Aritimesia. Her stomach grumbled and she tasted meat, crushed nuts and a little touch of spicy wine. "
What are you doing here?" Aritimesia inquired, ignoring the obvious inquires about identity.
"Hiding, the only thing I'm good at. Did it for half my life and would still be at it if I had not decided to come out." She had a sad but cocky smile, "I know what it looks like. And what feels like. Crow knows crow.""Is that why you are being nice to me?"
"Do not think much about it. It was a piece of bread and half a paddie." She shrugged, even as her cheeks flushed. "You were miserable and I could do you a small boon. I received love and care from others as I stumbled around the world, I learned how the little things can really improve someone else's life. "
"Let me repay you. Stop. Don't hide again, no matter what you are going through; you have a lovely smile - don't keep it from the world."
To woman's apparent meekness was gone. She rose and leaned against the tree, impressing upon Aritimesia how tall and athletic she actually was.
"I have to go."
She was gone in a blink of an eye, but she had stirred inspiration in the Veiete's heart. Aritimesia was perceptive enough to realize that by adopting a mercantile identity she could make a fortune. Soldiers fell prey to longing and malnutrition, willing to give away wages and spoils for any memento from home or hearty meal - and grateful enough to avoid questioning the woman's past.
Weeks of bartering and gossiping widened Aritimesia's awareness of events across the peninsula and the anxieties of its peoples. As months piled on, she had gathered a detailed list of issues and those afflicted by them; Aritimesia discreetly contacted those that could not find assistance from the Roman Republic, were alienated by certain segments of society or feared for the future of their cultural identity- establishing a network of like-minded individuals that saw the Italians as vulnerable partners of the growing Roman sphere of influence.
After much deliberation, dangerous subterfuges and grand plans, Aritimesia set in motion a meeting of worried community leaders. The site chosen was, appropriately, in the ruins of a Roman fort - once the fortified backbone of the campaign, abandoned and picked clean as the legions advanced further North.
And so we find Aritimesia, setting an improvised table and lit torches in the crumbling central building, welcoming her co-conspirators.
"I want to thank all of you for answering my convocation." Aritimesia opened the meeting by addressing those gathered: tribal chiefs, merchants, druids, bards, municipal magistrates, priests, captains of industry and mercenary companies. "We all came from distinct lands, classes and peoples; however, we all came to nest under the shadow of Rome - be it by our own will, lack of alternatives or by the accidents of birth and conquest. We are the Socii, our future is aligned with that of Rome; I am aware that this state of affairs has been profitable for most of the present. But the circumstances have been changing and too many among us have already sacrificed too much with little or no return."
"Those words are unacceptable and stink of false friendship!" The first voice of opposition made itself heard. A youth of the old Etruscan nobility rose and pointed an accusing finger. "How can we contemplate such treacherous talk when Romans and our kin fight at this very moment to protect all of us? You speak of our communities and the dangers of aligning with Rome, but they are not the ones erasing my culture and seizing our lands."
"For now they fight our enemies, for now they celebrate our diversity." Aritimesia emphasized. "How will they compensate us for our loyalty? Will the will of People and Senate always match the desires and freedom of the Italians? We should be prepared to protect our rights."
"Do you think we are blind to your intentions?" A priestess of Venusia had raised her hand, her fingers forming a claw as she grew louder. "This is a meeting organized by a pro-Punic terrorist. She wants to turn us against Rome, just so the people of Veii have a scapegoat for their ill-earned curse. The learned among us still remember when Veii stylized itself our overlord; we were their slaves and conquests, not partners and clients. Go away, Aritimesia - or do you have Veientes friends hiding in the corners, planning to kidnap us in exchange for future support?"
Aritimesia pulled a hood from under the table, stained by pale purple and bloody pink. She picked one of the torches, setting the cloth on fire. She waited as flames consumed her past; as they licked her fingers, she threw the conflagration of memories towards the priestess.
"I reject terrorism as a false-path; activism and social justice are now how I voice my ideals." She declared as everyone rushed to put off the fire with cloaks and furs. "However, I have not rejected my kin - be they those of Veii or the multiplicity of Italian peoples and cultures. I did not gather you together to stir conflict but to create an organization dedicated to the discussion of interests and issues that are not currently represented in the Forum or Senate."
"Rome has been doing that since any of us can remember." One of the merchants pointed out. "It is the cultural, military, political and economic axis of the peninsula, especially now that all trade routes must pass through ports controlled by the Republic. We should continue to bring our issues directly to them; I don't see any problem with this arrangement."
"You might not think much of Veii, but it is a community that represents nicely the threats faced by the most fragile and unfortunate Italians. "Aritimesia elaborated. "The majority of the inhabitants of Veii depend on subsistence farming and struggle to put food on the table; artisans and wage slaves are unable to buy bread or wheat and there are no wealthy and civic-minded individuals that can offer them patronage - they have to leave Veii or starve. Considering how much the price of wheat has been dropping these past decades, this is a bad auspice for the future of your communities. Veii is just the first to suffer. Which will be the next?"
"Things are difficult everywhere, Aritimesia of Veii." one of the Celtic chieftains pointed out, smiling and scratching his beard, insensitive to urban dramas. "Such is the nature of war. You cannot have the pillaging of half Etruria, drafof the merchant fleet and lose of the northern buffer zone and not have serious consequences. What you are experiencing is the aftermath of a great disaster; there will be a reversal of your fortunes once reconstruction occurs and the Cenomani establish a safe land route across the Gauls towards the northern Iberian city-states. Think of all the wealth that will create!"
"I have no doubts that things will improve, but for whom?" Aritimesia pointed out, causing a few eyerolls, muffled laughter and indiscreet murmurs. "Yes, I know many here will profit directly from this war; there is nothing inherently wrong with that. But wealth needs to flow down, to be reinvested back into rebuilding and civic interests; silver and gold are meaningless hoarded in the hands of a few instead of shared with the community and invested into the welfare of its members - no matter their birth or class."
"Do you have any evidence of such disparity, Aritimesia, or are you only speaking in hypotheticals?" One of the rich patricians of Padu inquired, rousing louder laughter. "And would it be another ridiculous story about Veii? The prosperous Veietes patrons might be miserly, that does not mean their flaws are shared by other affluent Italians."
"That is fair, it is a sensible request."Aritimesia lifted her head. "Tell me, do you enjoy your new estate in Rome? That nice place you bought to hide your family from the Gauls? Does it live to all you hoped it to be? And tell me, how fare the rest of the Paduans that could not afford to leave their homes? How satisfied are your clients now that they have to travel through a warzone to visit their patron?"
The man's face flustered with rage and fury; Aritimesia was not done.
"Do you plan to return to Padua after making such investment? Have you pondered on the effect you had over the local community? Because at the same time hundreds of Roman men and women are fighting and dying, noble souls like you are taking their properties, destroying their livelihood and ruining their homes."
"Ridiculous! I will not stand here and be insulted by a terrorist, Cassandra."
Aritimesia slapped the table with both hands.
"Then go, leave and ride to the front. Ask any soldier you find; you will find the same story over and over. How the Aventine and other plebeian neighborhoods had dozens of houses demolished and entire families taken for debt slavery. Or maybe they will tell you about how Ostia is covered with insulae, where people live like turtle-doves fattened and cooped for the profit of others. The noble remodeling of Rome is destroying its identity and threatens to start a new Conflict of Orders; the balance is too uneven towards the most affluent citizens. We have in the reconstruction and colonization of the Padus' banks an opportunity to correct course and fix these injustices - or we stand aside and let greedy hands seize them, eroding civic values and reducing their peers to serfs. Yes, call me Cassandra, but remember that Troy still burned."
Such accusations and concerns caused great upheaval and discussion; some members of the ennobled classes followed the man from Padua and left. The hearts and minds of those that stayed belonged to Aritimesia.
"I must apologize for my previous words, Aritimesia." The Venusian priestess admitted. "Clearly you have spent a lot of time thinking about the threats to our most fragile siblings. But what do you plan to do? Rome always shone bright as a defender of the most vulnerable, theirs are the actions we have been emulating for hundred years."
"We need to keep working with Rome and show them how rising inequality can erode the Republic that supports their society. Rome offers the only means to enforce long-term reform across the peninsula. We all must do our part, to improve our communities." Aritimesia rolled over the table a canvas with a magnificent ochre bull painted on it. "I propose the creation of an initiative of like-minded thinkers that share the same concerns. Each of us is or can be a pillar in their community, spreading culture and civic-mindfulness. Every challenge and problem we encounter, we try to solve, gather information and discuss possible solutions and what we learned with other members."
"And then what?" One of the mercenary captains inquired.
"Then we lobby the Assemblies, Forum and Senate. With our collective resources and knowledge we can make sure that the Roman Republic remains a force for good, supported by informed advisors."
"What a wonderful idea." A feminine voice was heard from the entrance. The tallest woman she ever saw, covered by a red cloak from which golden locks peeked inside. "Unfortunately, you must leave this meeting immediately; you are all in danger."
Tensions rose, but Aritimesia was quick to seize control and present the Bull as an united front.
"Rome might send all the Triumphants they want, but if they think they can intimidate us, they are very wrong."
"Wait, what? No!" The Triumphant waved her arms. "I love the initiative and must talk with you later, but you have to run. Now."
"Corvus?" Aritimesia eyes widened as she spotted the emblem piercing the blond woman's cloak. "I thought you were all gone. If you are soaring again, there is hope."
"Listen to me, please." The Corvus begged. "Quirinius Fulminator Niger has learned about this meeting and they are coming for you."
It was incredible how quickly the fort once again found itself deserted.

 

[StrigaRosa]

Quirinus hovered over the abandoned fort, crossed arms as dark clouds gathered - his will made manifest. He made his displeasure into heavy rain and thunder, the mundane world begging for his judgment. Breaking through the standing walls, he carved a path to the center, finding the hall in which the Bulls had met.

Aeneid had been waiting for him, sitting confidently on Aritimesia's seat; one leg over the other, leaning sideways, face half-covered by her cloak, hands crossed in a pyramid of contemplation.

"It is over, Quirinus." Lidia presented her ultimatum even before the other Triumphant entered the room. "Remember that you are just mortal, you can be wrong and you must own your mistakes. Your… "Pax Quirina" failed; you allow no war but grant no peace, you let Rome get trapped in another quagmire in which they have to fight for Liberty and Republic. Your excesses earned the Senate and People dangerous enemies. Our friends see in you the face of Tyranny and a dark promise for the future. I share their concerns; what did you plan to do with the Bulls?"

Quirinus advanced, revealing his form. Cocooned in arching lightning, the sorry state of his silver face messed up after the last encounter with Aeneid: the soft metal of the mask had been bent and twisted, the blow a vector trough which Triumph and rage turned it into an ever-snarling human/wolf hybrid, a muzzled face with a row of hungry teeth.

Lidia was horrified, scared by the transformation. That silver mask was the sole thing that offered that mass of oppression and thunder some semblance of Humanity. Facing down the tempestuous wolf, she picked up a crow emblem similar to hers, sliding it across the table.

"Out of respect for the human you once were - and which I hope still lingers within,- I offer you a shot at redemption. Recognize the Corvii as part of the Triumphant pantheon of Rome, work alongside us and we will reintegrate you into society. If you refuse…"

The Triumphant did not wait for Lidia to finish; he started to gather energy around his fists for a deadly volley. Aeneid threw the table up in the air, sliding over it to close the gap; Lidia aimed to end the fight before it could start. She boldly reached for Quirinus' mask, rewarded with a violent punch to her flank; repeated shocking bursts struck her muscles, causing her to roll over and spasm to the floor.

Lidia rolled out of sight, trying to avoid Quirinus' blows as she regained motor control. The other Triumphant was not willing to play her game; he was fully aware that facing someone known for their speed and strength in an enclosed space would offer plenty of opportunities for a turnabout. He blew the roof of the building, soaring away; after all, as the oppressor, it was his right to dictate the terms of the conflict.

Lidia had no alternative but to follow behind him, speeding enough to catch up with him but forever out of reach. She danced across the north of the peninsula, the hovering shadow as distant as the dark clouds that gathered around it. It was an odd proposition: they could not strike at each other, but whoever gave up would be conceding some unspoken point.

Since this had devolved into the ideological front, Lidia had a gambit she wanted to try. She gave up the chase, Aeneid rushing towards the consular army of Lucius Aemilius Papus. Stopping in front of the camp, she contemplated the sea of tents and fires flanked by imposing sentry towers.

Legionnaires and auxiliary troops gathered, everyone trying to get a glimpse of the Triumphant.

"People of Rome, Italian siblings, foreigner lovers of Libertas." her voice attuned with her spark, channeling the Triumph of Aeneas, resonating with the feats and aspirations of every refugee that had found a home in Italia. "Why do you fight? Is Quirinus Niger Fulminar who you choose as Champion? Are his beliefs yours?"

Heavy rain muffled any answer and drowned any words Lidia had left. Dark clouds heralded the approach of Quirinus; her goal achieved, she had forced him to answer to an earthly realm. The soldiers cleared a path for both Triumphants. It was true that Lidia was not the best at seizing hearts and minds, but even the most reluctant soldiers were having second thoughts once they gazed upon Quirinus' terrifying visage. The messy lupine features, the aura of savagery and the stink of royalty disgusted the civic and liberal sensibilities of the Romans.

Aeneid charged at Quirinus as soon as he landed. This was her last shot, she had gambled everything to get him here; she could not let go of him. Celerity granted Lidia the first and the second strikes, her head hitting the armour and clenching one hand around his neck. They rolled on the ground, Aeneid using everything she knew about pugilism and wrestling to pin Quirinus down, restraining him with the occasional punch or kick. Lidia realized direct blows hurt her more than her tormentor. She had no choice but to match his inhumanity, her heart and spark reverberating with the clamor of beating shields and soldiers screaming her name.

Quirinus tried to fly away, shaking Lidia off for a brief moment. Bruised but enthusiastic, Lidia pushed herself to the limit, pulling and ripping his cloak; losing his balance, the Celestial Triumphant fell to the ground. Aeneid regained control of the fight with a jump and an elbow drop.

Aeneid could not keep up, crawling between broken branches and crushed grapes, breathing heavily as she tried to get up. Quirinus did not even slow down, already calling rain and thunder. A thunderbolt struck Lidia, carrying Quirinus' irritation and disdain for the woman in a mortal blow.

Her heart stopped.

She was dead for a terrifying instant, the Triumph of Aeneas the only thing forcing her heart to beat again. She dug into the mud as her body moved on its own. Quirinus had turned his back to her, convinced the fight was over.

The lupine Triumphant stopped, the noise of the cestus rings scratching burned skin and leather capturing his attention. He turned to face a stumbling Aeneid, a fist raised in defiance as electricity and smoke circled her.

"Come on, Quirinus. Snarl for me."

He did, pulling his hands to cover Aeneid in another electric discharge. Lidia charged with untapped speed, her spark cackling with Celestial might; her arrival was announced with a sonic boom - just the prelude for a powerful left hook. Quirinus' mask cracked with the impact, distorted and fused into an even savager shape.

Lidia did not let him recover, imprisoning Quirinus under an arm lock and dragging him through the peninsula; she threw Quirinus against anything she could find - ruins, hills, trees, even a mine entrance. As it started to collapse, Aeneid released Quirinus and punched him right between his wolf eyes, sending him deep underground. Jumping away with two new sonic booms, she flipped over the other Celestial and buried him with a devastating kick.

Landing leaning with one leg and forming a cross with the other, Lidia observed as Quirinus exploded the debris; dodging the dust and a few bolts, exchanging blows.

The two sparks met, recognizing in each other contradictory incarnations of the same founding myth - trying to impose a single absolute vision upon the world. Stumbling and shoving each other around, both were aware of how hazardously intense their Triumphs had become. As the bucolic scenery of Italian hills was superseded by the false-reality of legends. Lidia channeled all the power of her spark through her cestus, unleashing against Quirinus armor a punch so potent that she could smell Troy burning.

Aeneid stumbled back, her senses assaulted by the fires of desecrated temples and the ferrous taste of Greek trickery. The sparks of the Celestial Triumphants were fantastic things, lit by platonic forms and transcendent ideas; stories abounded about Triumphants consumed by the mythic allure of their Triumphs, imprisoned alongside their enemies for eternity. She danced around Quirinus, hearing the echoes of bronze against bronze, the rival Triumphant trying to project his vision of King Turnus over her. She rejected that reality but did not dare to impose her own in return.

Combat became a difficult proposition, their sparks growing unstable. They traded blows, Lidia trying to drag him towards a place with powerful genius loci - a nature spirit strong enough to shackle them to reality and suppress the collateral effects of their Triumphs. Neither could step away even if they wanted, gravitating toward each other even as Quirinus tried to fly away and Aeneid gained speed.

The myths demanded a conclusion: Aeneas as the refugee founder of a multicultural nation or the city of an assassin of kings that ascended to the Heavens as an implacable god.

Only one could walk away.

Lidia knew she would be the winner; natural order favored her. No matter how much Quirinus believed he had transcended mortal concerns, he was no manifest divinity - just a delirious tyrant. She picked the battlefield, selecting the local perfect to judge the hubris and tyrannic pretenses of her rival.

Aeneid brought battle to the Fields of Fire.

 

[StrigaRosa]

Quirinus rushed through the sky, a being of whistling death that collided against Aeneid. Lidia was pushed back a dozen meters; dust and rock filling the air, her arms crossed and teeth clattering, vacillating but never breaking. She shouted at the lupine mask until both stopped, unleashing a chaotic volley of punches at each other; so tired they were that most blows missed the mark, splitting the ground. Pyroclasts, steam and sulfur were released from the volcanic core of the region.

Lidia was tethering on the brink of human endurance, her spark bare and jubilant. The shine in her eyes flooded with incandescent scarlet; soon the Celestial Triumph propagated all over her body. Her blood seemed richer, her cuts betraying the stir of her spark with something beyond mortal kin. Dancing with myth and divinity, Aeneid attempt to keep up with Quirinus; slower and weaker by the blow, Lidia was giving ground - fading away with each passing second, she was going to either lose the fight or herself.

Troy came to the Fields of Fire. Cassandra spoke through Aeneid's burrowed lips with truth and prophecy.

"I might be mistaken, but you're wrong."

She was punished by her declaration with an armored knee to her chest, forced to bow as air escaped her chest. Lidia had no stamina or defense left when Quirinus followed up with a fulminant punch that closed her eye and burnt her eyelashes. Her legs gave up, Lidia falling amid the cinders of the hot ground.

Quirinus was going to finish the job, leaning over the fallen Triumphant. Lidia felt something burning her brow, something blinding her with a flash. The dark Triumphant stepped back, horrified by something he had just witnessed; Quirinus snarled from a safe distance while Aeneid pulled herself together.

Intimidated by her core, Quirinus made his goal to obliterate Lidia in such a way that not a single atom would remain to haunt him. He flew over the sulphur columns. Arms raised, he channeled all the fear, greed and hate that fueled his manifest destiny; massive walls of thunder crashed from every direction. Doom became the horizon, Celestial lightning refusing to be grounded and rising ever higher towards the heavens.

Aeneid was quite shaken, contemplating the inevitability surrounding her. Quirinus, the incarnation of overkill, wore the storm and accessorized electricity, approaching Lidia as the mother of all tempests. Shredding winds guided even more lightning, some of the vanguard blurring and phasing out as they were reshaped into a pack of giant electrical wolves.

Lidia closed her good eye, focusing her mind on a clear and concise visualization of her needs.

A deluge of pyroclasts, stones and lava spewed from Underground, dispersing the columns of electricity; a rocky spear struck Quirinus' armor, wrecking it. The sky cleared, revealing Orcus mid-jump; Quirinus turned all wolves and lightning towards the creature, feeble attacks that they easily dispersed.

Nothing could keep them from ruining Quirinus' day.

Despite Orcus' single-minded determination, Quirinus seemed increasingly more agile and ethereal, managing to avoid their claws and gaining distance. Orcus unleashed their secret weapon, unhinging his jaw and creating an infernal vortex: winds, wolves, burning stones, thunder; Quirinus. Everything was being swallowed to the Underworld, the screams of lemurs demanding the light of the dark Triumphant.

Maw and tentacles wrapped around Quirinus' left arm, Orcus pulling themselves and the Triumphant towards the ground. The creature's powerful claws could not be resisted, calmly and methodically dismantling all of Quirinus' protections. Blow after blow reduced the imposing despot to a shadowy mass, confined and shaped only by the silver wolf mask, torn cloak and occasional electric discharge.

Orcus once again opened their maw, trying to deliver Quirinus to the horrors that awaited it in the Underworld; so diminished and unclear the Triumphant had become that it managed to slip away into the nihilistic nothingness from which it had been born.

Lidia stumbled towards Orcus, hand holding her dominant arm, one eye still closed. She rested her head against Orcus' torso, groaning and complaining. Orcus showed her something that made Lidia shake in disagreement.

"It doesn't matter. I had hoped to have finished by now, but we all knew what it would take much more. Is everything ready?"

Orcus replied with a flurry of images. Aeneid smiled as tears ran across Lidia's face. She was so afraid; how could she go toe to toe with Quirinus, some sort of disease festering within her society pantomiming as human; a thing that she and so many others had treated as a human being, entrusted with the keys to the Urbe.

Lidia hugged herself, shivering as she could feel its taint everyone - even under her skin. No time for horrible realizations: she found her center and aligned her spark; she would fight on as herself.

"Today is the day."

 

[StrigaRosa]

Aeneid sped towards Rome, only slowing down as she reached the Pomerium. Sextus was riding alongside the sacred city limits, planting metal rods and securing the perimeter. He dismounted and embraced Lidia. He handed her a waterskin; she refused, demanding wine instead.

They exchanged heavy glances, Lidia realizing Sextus had also figured the worrisome truth about Quirinus and both were still struggling with the realization.

"We got this." Aeneid reassured the knight as he cleaned her brow and bound some of her cuts. "Go to the priestess once you are finished; remember, you are our shield. If it all goes south, only you can save us."

"What if we falter?"

"It is not an option. Thousands will die, we will die, Rome will bear the scars forever." She bid Sextus good luck. "You are not even allowed to think about failure."

Lidia found a crowd gathered at the Forum, waiting the terrifying tempest approaching the City. Quirinus hovered over the Urbe, letting its Triumph and spark feed on the collective soul of Rome. Lidia bit her lower lip, worried. Quirinus was once again reforming into a more familiar shape, armor and cloak mending as it passed more and more as human. She had to once again ground that Triumphant.

She ran between buildings, trying to gather momentum and jump high enough. All in vain; Quirinus had learned from their first fight, adjusting its position and distance whenever Aeneid disappeared from sight. Lidia would not be able to do reach it on her own.

She was fortunate to have help.

A dry explosion filled the Forum with smoke, dark clouds coalescing into an enormous hydra. Nine reptilian heads darted between temples and shops, clearing the combat zone and attacking Quirinus. The Triumphant easily fended off the smoke monster, but failed to perceive the true purpose behind the apparition.

Lidia had jumped on top of the hydra, climbing its heads as platforms. Quirinus turned away only to see Aeneid's leg arching down, hitting its neck and pummeling it into a tent.

Setting the empty store on fire, Quirinus tried to get free; it was pulled out by Lidia's hands, as she had ignored the flames and kept punching its belly. With a frustrated scream, Aeneid lifted Quirinus over her head and threw it against the statue of Saturn.

Diodorus entered the scene, riding the smokey construct of a man and bull hybrid, ordering the beast to charge Quirinus as he unsheathed his swords. A tempest of steel befell the dark Triumphant, the Greek captain slicing it up like meat for souvlaki. Quirinus rose, blocking further strikes with its wrists; it was powerful, but lacked the finesse to match a master swordsmen. Changing strategy, the Triumphant grasped the blades and unleashed a violent electrical discharge. The Magus smiled, giving a quick shake of his arms and letting his mantle drop. The thin metallic cables and the strange fluid spread over them; a work of isolation and conductivity worthy of one that bore such prestigious title. Quirinus roared, receiving a cut on the hip as reply.

"Sit."

The furious dance of death continued, Greek and Triumphant never giving up; Diodorus tried to stay close, preventing Quirinus from gaining distance or an opportunity to overload the resistances of the Magus' delicate apparatus. Metal finally gave up, heating up and eventually breaking apart. Accepting this outcome, Diodorus threw his swords to the ground and started looking through his ampoules and bottles for a solution. He was taking too long, forcing Aeneid to replace him; she rushed and grabbed Quirinus' right arm, twisting it until something broke.

The Triumphant scratched Lidia's face, freeing itself. Returning to the skies, thunderous columns were summoned once again. Recognizing what was happening and knowing that this time Orcus could not help her, Lidia turned to Diodorus:

"Run, get out, try to evacuate as many people as you can." The Greek obeyed, opening a few bottles and conjuring more mythological helpers; Aeneid nodded and ran up rooftops.

Building on building, Lidia contemplated the state of their preparations. Sextus was climbing the stairs towards a nearby balcony and undressing by his friend. Aeneid raised an eyebrow, staring at the Vestalis at his side and her crummy-looking fake beard; whatever she was crushing on that mortar better be up to task. Entrusting her life in their hands, Lidia advanced against Quirinus.

The dark Triumphant had gathered almost enough power as it had done at the Fields of Fire - something Lidia could not allow in the heart of Rome. She charged recklessly towards her doom, presenting herself as an urgent threat. Quirinus took the bait, unleashing all of its Celestial energies towards Aeneid: they manifested as an intense thunderbolt that shone like a second Sun; it was intertwined around two arrows, one of light-consuming darkness and another of silvery light.

Lidia concentrated on her target; all her planning had created this moment. Her spark vibrated with greater intensity with each breath she took, only feebly anchored to her mortal self. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the rings and leather of her fingers together, feeling the rings and leather of her Memento Mori; she clenched her hands together, challenging Quirinus.

Three bolts became one, aiming straight at her chest. Aeneid, using her supernatural celerity, caught them head on; her hands shook as she steered lightning, her spark the only thing preventing her instant obliteration. Using these precious instants, she sought Arpineia and Sextus. The bare-chested slave was performing a last minute check while the priestess offered the spell of green onions and mackerel - a rushed Triumph of Numa and Egeria. If they managed to perform the improvised rite properly, "Numa" Arpineia would receive from "Egeria" Sextus the secrets that would protect Humanity from capricious thunder-gods.

Lidia could feel her fingers burning, her heart weakening, the sheer heat on her face unbearable; unable to buy them more time, she aimed with her good eye and hoped for the best.

Aeneid realized that her lack of depth perception had caused her to miss her target for a couple of meters; her heart stopped. It had cost her victory and would cause massive damage to Roma. Horrified and vanquished, Lidia fell down towards the ground. All she could hope was for Sextus to be up to task.

Above her, atop the balcony, fates were being challenged.

Arpineia threw the bowl to the ground, escaping as Sextus tried to grab her. Sliding across the balcony, she stretched herself and adjusted her beard.

She accepted the thunder.

The Vestalis held her open hands high, letting them be struck first; she immediately dropped her arms, pointing towards the closest bronze rod. The storm died out, the Vestalis holding her head against her elbow, fingers pointing to the sky. Smiling, even as her legs gave up.

Sextus ran to her, cradling the priestess against his chest. They nodded at each other, Arpineia jubilant. Lidia crawled away from the debris, surprised by this miracle. She dragged herself towards the Senate building. Quirinus descended from the heavens, slowly approaching the woman. She had just reached the Lapis Niger - the ancient sacred slab in front of the Senate. The dark Triumphant lifted its left hand, ready to extinguish Aeneid once and for all. Its lupine mask contorted in confusion, the storm refusing its call. New attempt. Nothing. Not even a spark.

Lidia laughed between spasms of pain. It was worth it.

"We stole your thunder, Quirinus! You're not only a false god, you're a false god of nothing!"

Quirinus snarled. Thunder or not, victory was within its reach. It would tear the incapacitated woman with its own hands. Quirinus charged towards the Lapis Niger, kicking and punching Lidia. She did not even try to defend herself.

When the first punch struck her, Lidia grabbed Quirinus' arm and threw all her weight against it.

Now!"

The Lapis Niger merged into the ground, a tide of specters escaping the Underworld. Quirinus and Aeneid fell down a spiral staircase, hitting every stone on the way. Lemurs kept pushing them, preventing the two Celestials from escaping. Quirinus raged and grabbed Lidia, rubbing her face against the rock as they continued towards Infernal domains.

Something stroke Quirinus in the wolf face, Marcus Considius catching the falling Lidia. With a snap of fingers he was covered in the curse-leaden armor of the Shadow Tribune. His lemurs kept tormenting Quirinus, dragging it down deeper Underworld.

"You sent too many souls here, Quirinus." Marcus provoked, sending more spectres to taunt Quirinus. "People you judged expendable, sacrifices for your so-called peace. The dead, they don't forget. The living, they do not thank you. Half of my armor is curses against Quirinus Niger Fulminator. Rome does not want you, Prince of Peace. Aeneid asked you to abdicate and leave our Republic, and yet, you dared to refuse the People's will."

Howling was the sole response, Quirinus dispersing lemurs as it fought its way towards the Tribune and Lidia, focused in killing either of them. Marcus shook his head, disappointed. Spectral tentacles grasped it, pulling its members in every direction.

"If if has to end like this, sic semper tyrannis."

The specters threw Quirinus between each other, lashing at it, until they abandoned its weakened form at the Pomerium of the Rome That Never Was. Leaning on the spiritual wall, Quirinus turned to face the two Corvii; it was ready to charge at them, but noticed they were looking up. It did the same, only to meet a giant hand.

The ghost of Romulus picked Quirinus up, taking it to eye level. Inspecting it with his bulgy eyes and dirty fingers, imposed upon the Triumphant his mad judgment. Romulus opened his mouth, revealing a row of millstones. Quirinus struggled, trying to free itself from its mortal ghost. All for naught.

Crushed between millstones. Chewing, swallowing.

Madness; it always ends up devouring its children.

"You don't have to watch, Lidia." Marcus suggested, uncomfortable by the reminder that he almost encountered the same fate.

"But I do." Aeneid disagreed, her good eye fixed on the macabre feast. "Others paid for Quirinus' peace. I should be the one to pay for my war; starting with this."

 

[StrigaRosa]

The day had been won.

As the rest of the team cleared debris and put out fires, Aeneid struggled with adrenaline crash. She became painfully aware of every bruise, cut and burn across her body, her entire left half shaking and spasming. The rush of emotions and realizations made her soul sink, driving her to the cold brink of tears. She had to keep moving or she would crumble under despair.

Aeneid stumbled towards the temple of Janus, her five companions following behind, the people of Rome gathering their collective wits. Everyone braved back to the Forum, witnessing the Crows as they claimed their place atop the Triumphant pecking order.

The reactions were mixed but exuberant: shouting, greetings, cheers and insults mixed in true Roman form. Lidia could just hear ringing, trying to ignore her swollen eye. She stared forward, confused. What had she been looking for?

Ah yes, the temple of Janus.

She watched the looming stairs with her cyclopean stare, took a deep breath and slowly dragged herself across them. Each step she took was torment, her head too heavy, stomach and lungs protesting as this insane woman seemed unfamiliar with the concept of rest.

Aeneid turned around as she reached the top, looking back at the faces assembled to witness her moment of triumph. She smiled at the Roman men and women that had made this possible, that had rejected the toxic ideas that had infiltrated their made this possible, that had rejected the toxic ideas that had infiltrated their society during the post-war; raising her fist into the air, she shared their thanks.

She was finally here, standing in front of the heavy doors, her face against those of Janus. Cold bronzed green was never this warm, so accepting of her. Aeneid tugged the heavy chain that Quirinus had put around the gates, getting a feel for them. She struggled to keep her Triumph and her spark connected, gathering Aeneas' strength and giving it another pull.

It shook.

Good. At least she could get the damn thing open. She caressed the gate, feeling the humming power of the symbolism within. Her heart raced, and not due to physical effort. She pictured her past, the long wandering, Attalus, Jing Ke, Lord Rama and the others. Of Crows old and new. The many abuses of power of Quirinus.

She had to let it all go away.

This would have to be a new chapter for her.

But it was not only for her, was it? She once again faced the masses of Humanity. That was Rome, that was what they fought for. Their new chapter.

hey waited, curious, for what she was going to do. Was she really going to break the Peace of the Gods so that they could continue the War for Liberty? Aeneid looked around for her team, longing for their support. Orcus, as alien as ever. Diodorus, unusually supportive. Considius, way too pleased for someone that just had obliterated a Triumphant soul. Her eyes met Sextus', the man as stoic and hard to read as ever; Lidia waited nervously, wondering if she had been toying with Sextus, pulling him out of the military just to drag him into another battlefield. He relieved her anxiety with a curt nod. Aeneid turned her head, satisfied.

Until she caught Arpineia's expression.

The sheer disgust, hatred and disappointment. Lidia was being judged - and she had been found wanting. The most hurtful part was how familiar such expression was. She had seen it countless times times when her former companions trotted times when her former companions trotted around the world.

They wore it whenever they stared down a tyrant.

Aeneid faced the gate, shamed by the Vestalis. She caressed the icy cheeks of Janus, pondering what to do. She gave the chains another pull.

The solution was obvious, but it was quite the leap of faith.

She faced the crowd, looking at some point beyond them; facing the horizon of what they all could be.

Aeneid descended the steps that had cost her so much to climb.

Many heads turned, a few following behind Lidia. That was it? She would just leave things as they were? Wiser folks turned towards the temple, gathering at the steps. They understood the invitation that Aeneid had laid before them: the opportunity to claim the Libertas they sought so much, on their own terms. Nobody was going to be drafted into this War. The fight would be waged at the personal front, by an army of volunteers struggling to live better lives and improve as individuals.

The People of Rome accepted.

The Gates of Janus swung open.

The other Crows and the crowd rushed into the temple. Everyone but Arpineia; she stood behind, starting at Lidia's back as she left the Forum. Sparkles flickered between her fingers.

 

[StrigaRosa]

The woman laid atop the Aqua Aquia. A bruised eye half closed; the other one empty as the skies above. Dark clouds had dispersed, delivering the world into brightness: from the radiant bronzed heavens to the torn red and green of her being, all the way down to the might slabs supporting the singing water. She laid there, half-gone, nibbling from some meat dish squeezed between half a bun. Even chewing was painful.

A spiral of smoke ascended towards her, a man draped in vibrant priest-like garb climbing as it became a gargantuan snake. Four others followed behind; all those that had joined her in the fight against the tyrant Quirinus.

Diodorus stepped forward, looming and sneering over the resting Aeneid.

"You were wonderful; even at the end." The Hellenistic Magus admitted with a curt nod. The youngest womaen present - the Vestalis Arpineia - had her arms crossed and a deep frown marred her brow. "Oh, what are you eating? Meat? How quaint."

The Vestalis relaxed and approached, taking a sniff of the light meal - Lidia's sole reward.

"Pepper, wine, pine seeds and can it be… a touch of garum?" She turned to the thin Greek. "Isicia omentata, you should try it. They are good paddies, Diodorus."

"Maybe we could all get some." The balding barber suggested.

"No!" Lidia shouted, jolting herself up as if struck by Quirinus himself - only to fall on her back with a nasty thud. Considius and Sextus pulled her back to standing position, ignoring her meek protests. "We have so much to do."

"You are in no condition to do anything." Her knight slave declared with a rather matter-of-fact tone. "Just tell us what you need to get done."

The gray titan and its tentacle-wrapped beard stirred, capturing everyone's attention before projecting an image of a strange underground complex and what seemed like a ghostly basilica. Aeneid whimpered and raised her arms, prompting the monstrous giant to pick her up.

You are now real heroes of the Republic; we will be acknowledge as such. Everyone, trust Orcus and follow us." Lidia endured the pain and turned towards Diodorus. "If I was amazing, you were nothing sort of spectacular.

Lidia made Orcus lean closer, stretching herself so she could hold Diodorus' arm and caress his face.

"You are now real heroes of the Republic; we will be acknowledge as such. Everyone, trust Orcus and follow us." Lidia endured the pain and turned towards Diodorus. "If I was amazing, you were nothing sort of spectacular."

Lidia made Orcus lean closer, stretching herself so she could hold Diodorus' arm and caress his face.

"You have excelled at this role; I'm proud to call you friend. I will not forget your commitment to our cause and what you risked when I needed you the most, Magus. If you ever need me again, I promise to be there."

"All of us will be there." Considius put his hand over Diodorus' left shoulder. The Magus forced a smile, his eyes betraying how terrifying the proximity of the Shadow Tribune was. "I might not be quite as useful outside of the Urbe, but I will find a way to help - even if it is just binding wounds and offering haircuts."

Diodorus smiled.

"Why does it seem you guys are kicking me out of town?"

Lidia raised her magnificent eyebrows.

"Diodorus, please, do not feel indebted. My help in Egypt was given freely." A suffering cocky smile. "In either case, you more than made up for it today."

The Magus' smile turned sheepish.

"I would like to stay, at least for a while. I have met my fair share of people like you, but very few are as aware in the use of their gifts. I believe that even if with our disagreements, we still have much in common. I want to be part of this new group; it sounds like a great way to know all of you better."

"Join us. Orcus, open the way." The giant unclenched its jaw, letting it dangle as they sucked a gate to the Underworld. As they braced for the trip, Lidia noticed the approaching Arpineia. Raising her hand, she told her to stop. "You will be ripped apart, Arpineia. The Underworld is no place for someone like you. I will visit you as soon as I can; thank you for your service!"

They vanished in a blink, leaving a shaken and frustrated Vestalis atop the Aqua Appia.

*​

tumbling and tripping over each other, the Crows found themselves in a rather discreet region of the Underworld; no lemurs or spirits dared to haunt the territory claimed by the Triumphants. Ruined walls surrounded them - some sort of abandoned stronghold. Eyes wandered towards Lidia, everyone relaxing as she seemed to find comfort among the dead stones. The place resonated with their sparks, coming alive and growing into glory. A door formed and opened on its own, inviting them into a corridor of fluorescent light. Considius found himself unable to whistle, finding this quite an improvement over his previous Underworld experience. Diodorus, just a moment ago so eager to join the Crows, felt estranged from the shifting surroundings; he was utterly divorced from his element, swaddled by the dreams, hopes and subconscious of the Roman people.

For Lidia and Orcus this was home. Only one they knew, only one they cared about.

There. Can you hear it? It is finally fixed." Lidia pointed to the entrance to another hall, her words complemented by a distant watery rush. Orcus took notice and led the five to a large room with three pools, walls lined with alcoves that offered some limited privacy. A single door led deeper into the strange complex - Sextus could not resist a peek, discovering a rich underground garden of curious plants and fungi. Pipes of all size cross the floor and the roof, turning the cold stone into an environment inviting for bare feet and skin.

Orcus entered the largest pool. They undressed Aeneid, gently washing her wounds and easing her into the warm water. Teeth clenched, Lidia let them do the required work, caring little for false ideas about modesty. She languished in the water, shaking and groaning; ooze and blood clouded the pool. Sextus stared at her marred body, horrified as Lidia floated amid the excreta; it had been a costly victory. The others had only known Lidia as Aeneid - an indomitable pillar of strength and a standard to rally to. He had been with her long enough to have seen her lost and tired, how she had been hurt by having her ideals constantly rejected by "common wisdom" and Rome.

Lidia's body had paid the toll her quest demanded. Sextus had no idea for how long she had been on her own - the last, lonely Crow, cawing into the void. He had been the first recruit, such as he was; a burden, a broken and enslaved man, pitiful excuse for a partner. He stood on the sidelines as she rebuilt a lost lineage, gathering them together, shaping with her hands a new team and fanning dying ideals. Some of his doubts and frustrations must have permeated his stoic facade; Lidia waved at him, inviting them to join her. She looked re-energized, or at least capable of bearing the pain with more dignity.

"The water is perfect, what are you waiting for?"

Considius was eager to accept the invitation, dumping his clothes on the floor. The barber was so enraptured by the engineering featured that he ignored the intense heat; he dove in, delighted at the rush of water coming from the bottom of the pool.

"This must be what patrician life is like."

"I wish." Sextus followed, taking care to fold all clothes and store them in one of the alcoves. "I mean, I never saw something like this in the villae of my grandfather, granduncle or any of their friends. A mistake that needs to be corrected."

Diodorus dove in, splashing everyone and giggling happily. "Now this is my element! I've seen Greek palaces with nice pools, but this? This is like diving into ambrosia! Oh, what wondrous dreams Romans have."

Diodorus dove in, splashing everyone and giggling happily. "Now this is my element! I've seen Greek palaces with nice pools, but this? This is like diving into ambrosia! Oh, what wondrous dreams Romans have."

Lidia struggle a bit and rose, joining Diodorus in splashing the others. "Whatever you do, do not drink the water!" She warned between bursts of laughter. "It is from the Styx." She flexed her arm, poking her bruised muscles. "That is how I managed to survive those insane blows."

"Your better not be bathing before boxing matches." Considius frowned.

"It would only matter if they managed to touch me!" Lidia shrugged. She noticed how quiet Sextus remained; she turned to Tabula Rasa with an inquiring expression.

"Sorry, I'm not being much fun." The slave apologized. He followed up with a lie, a token attempt to save his master some face. "I am thinking about Arpineia and how much she would love this. Are you sure it was the right call to leave her alone? Just like that? She did such a good job assisting us."

"The Underworld is harsh enough for a Celestial like me, it would bear a mortal nothing but ill. You know how envious and wrathful the dead can be." Lidia remarked, eyebrow raised. "Besides, you were the one complaining about getting her involved. Now you want her here?"

"Look, Lidia, just because none of us had a say in what kind of life we could have, is freedom of choice not what we fight for?" Tabula Rasa stood his ground, surprising everyone in the baths. "We carry our Fortuna, our star, and all we can do is bear it with dignity and grace. Arpineia? She should be able to decide if she wants to be involved with the Crow or not. But you took that from her when you pushed your personal goals and ideals upon her."

"Sextus, you might think I was just using her…" Lidia slowly raised her hands, moving as she lowered her voice.

"I know Lidia, I heard your point. Yes, we needed her. You predicted we would need someone like her to diminish the power of Quirinus' Triumph." Sextus rolled his eyes. "And you were right. She saved the day, Lidia, she shielded Rome from the worst of lightning and thunder. And what we do? We cut her off abruptly? That was harsh and cold, that is not you."

Diodorus took this opportunity to remain quiet. He would regret holding Arpineia's truth a secret. Aeneid looked down, ashamed.

"I had my reasons, but I do not think you will find them satisfactory; I still stand by them. Your Vestalis friend faced a calculated risk when the future of the Republic stood on the line; casually hanging around the Nest or meddling in the affairs of Triumphants would be a rocky and suffering road that would only bring her misery - and an unnecessary one, at that."

It was the first time any of them saw Sextus truly angry.

"And you make it worse by taking upon yourself to make those decisions! If you think your actions today will stop Arpineia, you know nothing about her."

Lidia stumbled on the pool, rising with her mouth open, ruminating her words. The awkwardness was broken by the arrival of a dignified specter, the lemur of a lictor with full old republican regalia.

"I will make amends to Arpineia, Sextus. Later - as I told her." Lidia got out the water. "Now, at the risk of sounding dismissive and not giving the issue the respect it deserves, we are being summoned."