Heroes of Republic: Ancient Roman Super Heroes

[StrigaRosa]

There was some comfort in the cold. The clashing temperatures caused air to howl through the eerie catacombs, making servants and outsiders hesitate at the door. Even Tarpeia found that unnerving; cooling stone meant they were closer to the offices of the Department of Life and Death, the most secluded sections of the House.

Bleached chalked walls, gray slabs and shelves covered with rare components, everything was ethereal; ready to decay and disappear if Sun and warmth were to enter these halls. It was fitting, for all fragile things were under the purvey of Life and Death. The uncanny workshops and their treasures were distorted by the weird light that blanketed them, twisted by layers of carefully blown glass into pale hues. The gentle hum and drip, the complaints of tubes and wall gaps responsible for the trepidation, all-encompassing and greeting Tarpeia as she entered. This was an odd place, but it was a place for her. More accepting than any smile.

Every patrician in this town had decided their life's purpose was to make Tarpeia unwelcomed in the House of Vesta. They were only successful in instructing Tarpeia how grow cold at attempts to diminish her person. No matter what they said, Tarpeia knew her worth. But even then, there were three Vestalis that always made her feel lacking, such was the pressure exerted by their personalities. Veneneia could put out a Flame with a side glance and was powerful enough to command even Tarpeia's attention; Arpineia always seemed to exude beauty in everything she did, taking all the grease and mud slung at her for being herself and use it as fuel to burn brighter. And then, there was Ovidia.

Tarpeia found her buried under layers of clothing, two scarves and a veil; even her beard was carefully restrained and padded. Ovidia's work over the bodies demanded cold, and coldness demanded special cares. Still, every gesture exhumed worry and kindness; even her whispered orders and telling stares were gentle and cute. It was power, power of a different sort, but power nevertheless. The serene power, even more dangerous on its allure; Tarpeia felt heard and accepted before Ovidia had even acknowledged her presence.

When she did, it was with a cheerful greeting. Ovidia removed of her scarves and offered it to Tarpeia, inviting the young woman to approach on her terms.

"Come to appreciate your workmanship, sister?" Ovidia inquired. "I can have someone escort you. I will just finish here and prepare a hot drink for us to share."

"This is not a work visit. I am looking for answers."

"Aren't we all? Is that not our purpose?"

"That is what our Numarian progressives sisters would say, yes. The more conservative factions may disagree on that." Tarpeia conceded. She pulled a scroll case from her clothes. "I have a rather specific question that has been tormenting me, growing into a cyst of doubt. Do you remember writing this paper?"

Ovidia quietly asked for permission, carefully receiving it. A nostalgic smirk stirred under the veil.

"Now that is something that digs up old memories. That was my first collaboration at the temple."

"This was awarded an Ilian prize for extraordinary spiritual significance." Tarpeia remarked, impressed.

"Have you read it? Not to err through pride, but I think it is well-deserved."

"It is remarkable, do not take me wrong. I am interested in knowing how it was working with your co-author."

"Ah, I see now. This is about Davinia." Ovidia chuckled.

"I'm sorry if I'm being indelicate, but Vestalis Arpineia has approached Engineering for some ambitious projects and I have no idea what to do about them. Every word I hear about the woman is disheartening. I cannot bring myself to trust her."

"Because they keep telling your she is lazy, rude, and meddlesome?" Ovidia nodded. "She is annoying and demanding as a friend, but a friend regardless."

"Did she pull her weight on this project?" Tarpeia insisted.

"Why don't you come into my office and I will tell you how we became friends? May cast some light on some things you are thinking of as problems."

*​

Ovidia's office was filled with plants; other than a table and a set of stone stools, everything else had been claimed by the green. It was cozy and inviting; heat had to go somewhere, and what better destination than a flowering nest? One wall shifted at Ovidia's touch, revealing many bottles and an aquarium with a large bear skull. Ovidia poured two glasses of some clear, impossible, strong alcohol.

"When I started as a Vestalis class III they gave me an awful job." Ovidia took a deep gulp. Tarpeia left the cup untouched. "The class I that headed Life and Death at the time believed Greek academics would have an easier time working with me than with other Vestals. So they gave me a liaison position."

"I can relate. I keep sending letters to the king's cousin in Syracuse, some dude called Archimedes. He never replies." Tarpeia complained.

"Right. Syracuse, that was also who I was working with." Ovidia took another sip, sniffed the cup and put it away. "When Rome occupied the city, after the whole Marmentine debacle, the Vestalis salvaged an archive. Glass manufacturing manuals, optics observations and studies; we have never seen anyting like that. We wanted to collaborate with Hellenistic academics, see what we may had missed, restore some damaged pieces, and find out who we should restitute the archive to. The only thing we accomplished was rendering my life miserable. I am not overstating it, Tarpeia. I hated my work and my role in it, so much that I was considering changing Departments."

"I'm sorry." Tarpeia was clueless about what to say.

"I remember another day of grueling study, in one of the smaller cells right above us. I was fighting tears as I got through some awful correspondence, when Arpineia barged into my room. She was covered in dirt and sweat, carrying bundles to Asiatic cultivars of something. Garlic, I think. She went on about our optical observations, rambling about geometric prediction and how the atoms of different cultivars must be organized in a different way, because what else? The older Vestalis kept shushing and pushing her away, but I had read Demetrius. I knew that strange grimy girl may have been into something. I could at least make out the logic behind her hypothesis."

Tarpeia laughed at that mental image.

"So, what did you do? Did you go after Arpineia?"

"Oh no, I would never be so bold. She had dropped a few garlics when they kicked her out of the Department. I grabbed a few samples and tried to prepare a few slices. Made some into a pulp, blended them in different ways, and examined different outcomes. Once I had something I could show, I met her in secret."

"She must have been delighted that you took her seriously."

"Far from it!" It was Ovidia's turn to laugh. "My clumsy attempts enraged her. Arpineia pulled her sleeves and started setting up an underground lab right on the spot. Well, you read the paper, you know how we did it; we finally discovered that if cut the right way and immediately deposited in seawater, we could properly see the cells, the inner compartments that made up plant matter. We replicated this enough times that we could draw, compare, and characterize those of different cultivars."

"That does not even cover the first section of the paper." Tarpeia pointed out. "I do love the first figures. The charcoal work is precise and evocative."

"Arpineia was unsatisfied with what we had. She left Rome and set camp on State farmland, preparing the fields and growing many plants and cultivars. Every week I received a new batch of samples, all arduously prepared. The tables of results must still be somewhere in Agriculture and Natural Resources; I should ask Viviana the next time we meet."

"What had Arpineia hoped to accomplish? Such great investment, for meager returns."

"She was testing multiple hypotheses, different ideas about how inheritance and environment contribute to the attributes of a being. She was determined to compare different combinations of lineages, soils, sacrifices and weather patterns."

"She had passion." Tarpeia nodded in agreement, caressing her cup.

"Had? Did she die and I was not aware?"

"I mean, when Arpineia was working on the field instead of in an office. That is more enthusiasm than I ever seen her muster."

"Don't confuse matters of leadership with drive or motivation, Tarpeia." Ovidia pointed out. "There is not a single project pushed by the Department of Innovation and Progress that Davinia does not believe in. The material conditions involved are completely different. She could throw herself in a project recklessly back then, because she was a nobody and her failure would hurt only her. Viviana supported her with everything that she wanted. Why would she not? If one can discern and predict the outcome, all the bounty of nature can be theirs. And if one translates that to animals? One can raise them to have the most pleasing features for sacrifices. The power that one can wield with such information is tangible and has obvious practical effects. Teaching? Reform? Outreach programs? Their power is often erroneously dismissed. Everyone could see and value what she was doing; nobody cares or supports what Davinia wants to do now."

"I spoke too soon, and I stumbled in the dark. Please continue." Tarpeia apologized, more to avoid being sidetracked than genuine remorse.

"It was promising, but there was a major obstacle. I realized the data contradicted everything about Davinia's hypothesis. Nothing we saw could account for the differences between cultivars. They were all, fundamentally, similar."

"That's okay, that's often how thing goes." Tarpeia knew that feeling very well. "How did Arpineia take it?"

"Oh, she was delighted! She immediately formulated another hypothesis: the cell-like structures were not the philosophical atoms of Demetrius. There was a much smaller, essential part of the universe to explore. She spent months working on different ways to tackle the issue. We wrote weekly, and most of it was not about work."

"Wait, is this one of those blooming romance things I keep hearing about?" Tarpeia interjected.

"We never lacked for things to talk about." Ovidia smiled but did not confirm or deny. "It was far from easy, you know? Improving the lenses was beyond our reach, there was no imaging setup within our skill. Without proper craftsmanship, we devoted ourselves to preparing better samples. There had to be a way to breach the walls between what we see and what we wish to see."

"How? You had barely anything to start with, and that happened?" Tarpeia pointed out. "How did you keep yourselves motivated through that emptiness?"

"Have you met Arpineia? Her enthusiasm is contagious and she kept pushing for both of us."

Tarpeia raised an eyebrow.

"That cannot be. You were two Class III Vestalis. There are very real limitations to what you can accomplish on your own."

Ovidia blushed and poured more of the odd brew.

"Look, I don't know how many months of clientela-work or how much of the Arpineii's wealth Davinia spent on this pursuit. But I can tell you it was a fortune. Only Davinia can tell you how many failed attempts she had before found a powerful mix capable of breaking the cell but that would not destroy the contents within. Carefully gathered volcanic microspheres, salt water, and a mix of expensive imported coconuts and palm oils. It thins the walls of the cells, degrading them through ponderous motions."

"People have been promoted for less impressive feats." Tarpeia pointed out. "She could have written down that formula and leave it at that."

"Ah, but that would not prove or disprove her hypothesis, would it? She crushed, extracted, filtered, and fixed samples. Arpineia should be able to see it now, but there were too many impurities smudging the background. We could see that smaller world, but we still lacked understanding." Ovidia shook her cup, drawing attention to it. "Summer came, and it was just too hot to work, so we spent all days talking and drinking sapa. That was when I realized that alcohol would be perfect to separate the individual components into something we could see clear. But not any alcohol; it would need the purest alcohol we could distill."

"Oh, I know that one! It is that costly Sicilian ethanol that is used only for cleaning high-grade equipment. So this is the alcohol-extraction process Davinia wrote down?"

"Yes, but the true wonder awaited us at the end." Ovidia leaned in and whispered. "Soul filaments."

Tarpeia stared at Ovidia, baffled.

"I read it over and over and I still don't understand."

"Once you breach a cell and extract its contents with ethanol, you get a stick, transparent, innocuous substance. It is shiny, almost silvery, and we cannot go beyond it. Some names proposed include quintessence, silver chord, soul, platonic atoms, etc. That goes beyond our work. We found it, and we believe it to be crucial for the development of, well, anything."

"Okay, but there are bolder claims on the scroll."

Ovidia coughed.

"About animals. And reproduction. And about conscience and soul."

Heavier coughing.

"Quite the jump, Ovidia. Why don't you tell the details about your next experiment? The paper does not go into it."

Ovidia twisted herself on the bench, awkward.

"We found out that there was a similarity between it and certain fluids." Tarpeia leaned closed. "And Davinia helped me get a sample and to try the same extraction we did on plants."

Tarpeia did not push for more information about the mechanical or sensual details involved.

"The results were the same. You got the silver cord."

"We did! And we proved that if this was present on the fluids essentials for reproduction, it was responsible for the transmission of information." Ovidia regained her composure. "The potential of that knowledge is endless. We may even have stumbled into an entirely new field."

"The scroll finishes by mentioning supplementary material. What is that about?"

"We tried to extract quintessence from everything, showing the other Vestalis how strong our findings were. It got us love and attention, it got us the prize but did not get us the means we needed to take further steps. And there was more." Ovidia leaned back, her mood sour. "I was neglecting my assigned duties, even if what we found was so wonderful. Arpineia had not compromised her Natural Resources work, in fact, had gone well beyond what they expected. They promoted her to Class II while I was reassigned to a new project."

"After all that, Arpineia screwed you over. She got you in trouble, and then she benefited form it." Tarpeia pointed out.

"You joke, sister. And I do not find that amusing. Don't I have some agency on my life? I was her friend and supported her, yes, that is true. But I eagerly followed every step." Ovidia words were cold. "I may have given up this life if not for Davinia. And she fought for me to be promoted. She only relented because I asked her to."

Tarpeia twisted on her seat, uncomfortable in the realization that she had crossed into business that was not hers to discuss. Ovidia was forgiving, reassuring her with a softer glance.

"I'm sorry."

"It is okay. Davinia was exhausted, and had a lot of new responsibilities. She could not work on the workshop alongside me, but could use the new resources of her position to support my solo work. Useful, considering some components and how important cold is for the entire process."

"So, that was it?" It disappointed Tarpeia for reasons she could not explain. "That is all that came out from your work?"

"Far from it! I did not talk with Davinia for months until she knocked into my cell, carrying a bag of crushed rocks. Her eyes were deep and blackened, and she muttered nonsense, but she would not relent until she showed me something. Arpineia had a ledger full of observations of different minerals that she had crushed and observed. And she never got the sticky filaments. They sterilized the rock on fire or alcohol, the result was always the same. But a lot of times, a wash of different substances from rags to stones wielded tiny amounts of quintessence. She kissed me and promised that this time I would get to class II."

"Did it work?"

"Flawlessly. I prepared old rags, washed cloth, different rocks and bricks, and even parts of animal and human corpses. This impressed everyone in the House: I had just established Arpineia's initial findings as proof of what separated animated, living beings from inanimate material. As well confirming beyond any doubt that there are beings and plants beyond our keen, hiding in microscopic scale or inside cells. We had opened the gates to hidden and invisible worlds."

Tarpeia reached for Ovidia. The two Vestalis embraced.

"Thank you for telling me this story. I could never have imagined."

"Lazy people do not exist, Tarpeia. Davinia issue is not giving up, but not breaking down during the chase. That is why she needs our friendship, Tarpeia. Go to her. Tell her what do you dream and she will make that dream hers."

 

[StrigaRosa]

It was hard to avoid excitement when a new theater emerged from the Urbe. The clearing of land, the leveling of the ground, the digging of trenches and hammering of support beams. The performance started before actors had assembled, each new layer of seats forming a hill of witnesses, inviting the surrounding community to gather on the fruit of their labor. The circle, a ring of fiction crowned by canvas. A promise that they were all invited, welcomed and sheltered; that this was their story to share.

It was a special event for Davinia, for she longed to enjoy this novel theatrical form. A new discipline of Latin expression, every aspect that made it possible mirrored one of the seven walls of the Vestal hearth. From the sturdy logs and planks, through the engineering needed to raise the seats, down to the ephemeral art behind each performance. And let's recognize the innovative flame the performance roused in the audience's bosom.

There was also an element of Campanian pride to it. The author of the play was as Italian as Arpineia; it was a delight to see such bold play arranged by another child of Campagnia. Gegania had recently returned from one of her routine visits to Hellas, and would stay in Rome long enough to see the debut of this play. Davinia was looking forward to spending a day in town with her peer of Ephemeral Arts; the play was an excellent opportunity that they couldn't miss. It was disappointing that Gegania had no interest in seeing the "Clastidium".

"Oh, it is not one of Livius Andronicus's adaptations?" Davinia recalled the graceful snort of contempt as the two unpacked Gegania's luggage and discussed their schedule for the next days. "Honestly, Arpineia, I don't understand how you can waste time with such political drudgery. A Roman tragedy? Ridiculous. I will gladly go with you once we have a proper play, but this just won't do."

There would be a new Roman comedy around the same time, but Arpineia figured that lot would fail to meet Gegania's standard of what counted as a "real play". Her goal of going together to the theater seemed impossible. Davinia was frustrated at the lack of support for regional artists from the head of the very Department responsible for protecting artistic endeavors, but that battle was one she was unwilling to fight. Gegania fascinated and terrified her, and Arpineia was never sure how much of her already precarious position in the House relied on Gegania being amused by her foibles.

Alone in the crowd, herding some younger Ephemeral Vestals burdened with reporting and archiving the play, Davinia found her thoughts and eyes wander. There were a few nasty looking individuals hanging around the site, and they weren't with the building crews. Davinia rotated slowly, wondering how much trouble was "Clastidium" courting. Its author was a social veteran, and yet, refused to endorse the behavior of the federation on the "pacification" of the northern territories, casting doubts on the motivations of the aristocracy—Roman and Italian—and the warbands they led. "Clastidium" was rumored to be a brutal take-down of the actions enacted in the name of the Republic and its federated allies; Davinia would be surprised if Consul Aemelius Papus had not padded the crowd with his clientela, monitoring the developing drama.

Speaking of drama, burly folks weren't all the magistracy sent. Two heads above the crowd, awkward and cheerful, Aeneid had joined the event. Many people wanted to touch and talk to her, standing between her and Davinia. Their eyes met and Davinia's heart sank; Lidia looked exhausted and barely holding herself together, presenting a tough and warm mask to an insatiable crowd. Arpineia pushed through, shoving people indiscriminately. "

Ah, there you are, Triumphant." She shouted above the crowd, wrapping her palla around Lidia's arm and pushing her closer. "There are important matters about the theater security that we absolutely must discuss before the play starts."

Lidia was grateful for the opening, gladly letting Davinia take the lead. Once in the relative solitude of the busy backstage, Davinia released Lidia and inspected the other woman. Her emotions remained as conflicted as after their last encounter; Promethia wanted to berate Aeneid as much as Davinia wanted to demand answers from Lidia.

"So, I assume you are here to make sure it portrays the Consul and his army on a patriotic and inspiring manner?"

"I just came to see what the whole thing was about." Lidia was not bitting or barking at the blunt provocation, verbally shrugging. "And it is not his army. It is your people's."

"You are on the front." Davinia insisted, putting emphasis on that fact as something that should set Lidia on a particular side of issues. "You know what the "Clastidium" is about? How it portrays your people? Did you even read the play?"

"I have been made aware of its subject." Lidia looked away, embarrassed by something. "It seemed important. I came to see it."

"It is important. What this dubiously administration is doing matters." Davinia insisted. "Yes. People should know." Lidia agreed. They looked into each other. Davinia offered an embrace; Lidia was glad to accept.

"Is that all I get?" Davinia inquired, annoyed but hopeful.

"What do you mean, Vestal." Lidia looked down at Davinia, confused.

"Do you look down on me so much you won't kiss me?"

"Oh, is that all?"

Lidia bent and leaned, kissing Davinia. Her lips were warm but hesitant; she refused to explore further sentiments but welcomed them when Davinia kissed back. Lidia pondered to separate from Davinia, inviting teasing air to contour the rim of her mouth and cool her teeth; only to crest an opening for a rushed follow-up by Davinia's pursuing lips. For a blessed moment, Lidia gave in to this hunger, meeting Davinia in passion and purpose. Aeneid's reaching hand and intense breathing reminded her of the excuses she told herself.

The comforting hand of Lidia landed on Davinia's shoulder, and she let go. New life danced in Lidia's eyes, but Davinia demanded more.

"Why do you do this? What is the problem?"

"I'm at least a decade older than you. That puts you in a dangerous and unfair position." The suppressed exhaustion reemerged, taking over Lidia. "This gap between us scares me."

"Good, because I like you and that is scary. But that is who you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Davinia closed in, smiling as she raised her hand towards the edge of Lidia's cloak, lowering it to caress the woman's chest. "You will not bore me, and I find the possibilities exciting. But I'm glad you are being careful." Davinia approached, subtle movements with the inevitability of a setting sun. "There is an even more disturbing power imbalance than that one." Lidia gulped.

"Yeah, I know. I am a very bad Vestalis, exploiting my influence to seduce a non-citizen into a coercive relationship." Davinia was unrelenting.

"Do not joke about this, Arpineia." Lidia's distress was genuine. "I'm a Triumphant. There is an investiture in me, the implicit representation of a community, the fears and anxieties of a people exemplified by a single representative."

"So what?" Davinia made her position clear. "You are still a woman."

"A woman entrusted with this Triumph. I am Aeneid as much as I am Lidia." A frustrated sigh from Davinia. "I want to be with you, not much more. Why do you deny us even that?"

"I am trying to do this right, Arpineia. And that means me protecting myself and my partners." Lidia shook in place. "I cannot afford to mess this up, not with someone like you."

A teasing smirk crossed Davinia's face.

"So you are only interested on Triumphants?" "I'm trying."

"It must be so lonely. Unless you are, maybe, sleeping with the pig?" Davinia rolled her tongue every single syllable, enjoying the provocation. "Because the way see it, you have limited your choice of partners."

Her mouth too close, a breath away.

"Please Davinia, I want to do this." Lidia could barely murmur.

"I'm not holding you. You can leave any time and little me can never follow such a powerful Triumphant." Davinia leaned back, a warm, inviting gesture. "I just want you to look into my eyes and tell me you would not be happy to bury yourself into my buttocks, as I pant and consider how I will shove my fist so far inside you I can feel the contour of your abs."

Lidia flinched; Davinia turned around.

"I'm bored now. Bye Lidia."

"Wait, I thought you would not get bored with me." Lidia splurged without a second thought, covering her mouth after the fact.

"Well, I'm bored now." A cruel chuckle. "See you after the play, Lidia."

*​

The universe had quite a sense of humor. Just as she had teased Lidia, the "Clastidium" kept teasing Davinia. The play kept circling around problematic subjects, courting the controversy, the core of the issues a finger away; and somehow the dialog danced around, never touching it. Davinia was on the edge of her seat, wondering when they would go beyond the implications and drive right into why conflict in the north never seemed to calm down. A wink and a nod at greed, a whisper between clenched teeth about aristocracy and privilege, a curious absence of any magistrate or moderating presence in the stage. She kept looking at her empty seat and an anxious Lidia, wondering if there was a way they could have ended sitting together. Please, why was everything bold or compelling avoiding the stage?

A loud explosion, screams and smoke; Lidia was gone. The play stopped as more explosions and bursts of smoke followed. As people panicked away from their seats, Davinia realized what she had to do. Her palla fell to ground as Promethia took to the skies. She dropped more pieces of clothing as she stumbled to unveil her uniform and scarf. More smoke rose, surrounding the greater structure of the theater. There was an occasional streak of red, as Aeneid rushed between chaotic incidents. Promethia made her descent.

There were a lot of pyrotechnics going off, producing smoke and noise. An attack meant to instigate panic, to empty seats and spread chaos. Confused and distressed, Promethia took a deep breath and tried to visualize all the chemical reactions igniting the smoke bombs. Easy enough; the closest incendiary device fizzled, inert. Just in time for Aeneid's arrival.

Aeneid looked at the incendiary device, at Promethia and back at the incendiary device. Davinia could see the thoughts bouncing back behind Lidia's eyes, raising tension taking over silence. Hesitation fed paranoia, and this could be yet another misunderstanding. There was a lot of smoke and Promethia was fire incarnate; not that strange an assumption. A twitch alerted her to another device going off.

"These have to be set up manually. Whoever is doing this is within walking distance." As punctuation, Davinia waved her hand. Lidia flinched and followed her movements, alert to any treachery. A shining flare hovered through the sky, marking the position. Lidia nodded and disappeared.

Relieved at the fight she had avoided, Davinia took a breather. Who could have targeted this place? It seemed such an odd choice. The people that had the most problems with the performance had other venues of censure. And honestly, the thing was tame. Davinia got closer to the device, examining it. Noisy, smokey but mostly harmless. Simple but well-made, dispersed in a pattern that assured everyone inside the theater would hear or see something distressing. This was a psychological attack, to shock and disperse rather than hurt.

Shit. Could it be Circe, showing her ugly snout in Rome?

Promethia took flight, looking through the smoke and rushing crowds. A white and red streak darted between the buildings, carrying something. Damn, Lidia had just Triumph-handled them? Davinia flew as fast as she could, trying not to lose sight of her speeding crush.

Aeneid had found their way towards a quarry, throwing the arsonist into a pile of pebbles and granite gravel. Promethia landed next to Lidia as the dust cleared, revealing a miserable bleeding and disoriented Circe. The two Triumphants looked at the arsonist—and at each other.

"What do you know of her?" Lidia asked.

"Extremely adaptable, cunning alchemist; kind of a supremacist and full of tricks." Davinia snarled at Circe. "I would restrain her."

Lidia nodded, appearing behind Circe and pinning her arm behind her back as she rose. Circe's beady eyes stared down at Promethia, unable to leer at Aeneid. Frowning, Lidia pulled Circe's hair, revealing the straps and bindings of her intricate pig mask.

"I don't feel the taint of barbarians on you, Aeneid." Circe addressed Lidia. "You can appreciate proper culture. I sense the touch of the Hellenes on you, how it polished you."

Aeneid tightened her grip.

"What are you waiting for? Take her mask!" Davinia shouted, irritated. Circe laughed at that.

"She has realized that this was too easy, have you not, Aeneid?"

Realization struck Promethia like lightning. Davinia remembered how Circe made short work of the Epirote ships in Tarracena. How relentless she was pursuing her goals.

"That was a decoy." Davinia spat, turning to Lidia with despairing eyes. "I cannot get back in time."

Without hesitation, Aeneid was gone. She left Promethia and Circe alone. Summoning a flame, Davinia encroached on the still unbalanced Circe.

"This is adorable, the little mouse thinks she can tangle with me." Circe taunted, laughing for time.

"I'm not scared of you." Davinia lied. "You should be, if your remembered how last time went." Circe was reaching for a hidden pouch.

"The difference this time is that I'm not alone. All I need to do is hold you back until Aeneid returns."

"Oh, the little Refugee Prince is not coming back anytime soon. Not with the surprise I left her." Davinia was confident Circe was lying out of her snout, but what if Lidia was in trouble? She could not afford the risk.

"Take the cue, Circe. Get away from my home." Promethia warned as she took flight.

"We are inevitable. We will be all they remember."

Fuck you, you're not.

Promethia sped up towards the theater. Smoke had given way to dust and debris; a flash-fire in the foundations threatened to collapse the eastern section. The crowds stood around, watching as a bulging, sweaty load-bearing Lidia staved disaster. A snap of fingers and the fire was controlled, but the theater was already damaged. Davinia waved to people near the work-site; they rushed to pull logs to take Lidia's place. Calming down, Promethia landed and approached Aeneid. She unfolded her scarf and rubbed it against Aeneid's brow, washing her sweat.

"I'm so glad you came." Lidia grunted. "Someone may have got hurt if not for you."

Davinia uttered no answer. Lidia grunted more, awkwardly shifting the weight.

"What I'm trying to say is that we make a good team."

Silent, Davinia reclaimed her scarf and moved a renegade hair from Lidia's face.

"It seems I found myself a captive audience."

"Promethia, please." This grunt was more of a chuckle. "Let people do their work."

"You are holding out fine. I'm sure this can wait." Davinia signaled imperiously towards the gathering responders. "Do you have any idea why this happened?"

"No." Lidia groaned, pushing her shoulder-blades up.

"Can you at least move this splinter rubbing against my sides? It is extremely uncomfortable."

"Never seen you around theaters before. You were expecting trouble; you must know something I don't." Davinia said as she acquiesced to Lidia's request, only for her to drop the crumbling beams and catch them again. Just fast enough to put her head closer do Davinia, her neck against her arm.

"I'm on leave." Lidia murmured, flustered and strained red. "And I figured I may meet you if I went to places I don't usually hang on."

Smug chuckle, as Davinia realized she would have to actively dodge and push Lidia away to leave.

"Flirting will not get you anywhere." "It got me exactly where I want to be. Maybe I can get your to reconsider my proposal?"

"No chance." Davinia leaned against Lidia. "Alright, you were caught by surprise, just as I did. But you are still not on the clear; why did you refuse to unmask Circe?"

"Why did you let her go?" Lidia teased.

"I had to. She implied you would be in danger. No, I mean, that's irrelevant." Davinia's voice cracked, agitated as she was. "Answer my question!"

"The same reason I don't pry into who you are beyond Promethia." Lidia whispered. "Still hoping you will tell me on your terms. It is the minimum amount of respect I own any other Triumphant."

Davinia pushed herself free and escaped.

"This is not funny anymore, Aeneid." Promethia turned her back. "Circe is very dangerous, she is out there, and we do not understand why she acts the way she does."

"She seems to avoid unnecessary harm. Her first blasts aimed at clearing the theater, with the second charges demolishing it. Chaos, not murder, seems to be her aim."

"That's not very helpful, is it?" Davinia crossed her arms. "And I wish I could give Circe the benefit of doubt, but she is not like that. If you push her enough, she stops pretending to care about collateral damage. I won't have her running around my Urbe."

"Your Urbe?"

Exasperated sigh.

"You know what I meant, Refugee Prince. Now, if you excuse me, I have a terrorist to find."

"Wait." Lidia groaned as she extended her arm and opened her fingers, revealing loose hairs. "I got these during the fight."

"Black hair and a white hair. So what, is she getting old?"

"Not white, it is like mine. She wears a wig." Lidia insisted, desperate to be useful.

"So? Many people do." Davinia shrugged. "How is this helpful? And she bleaches or dyes her hair, how that is even relevant? It just shows her regrettable taste."

"It would not look like that. Pluck some of mine." Lidia insisted. Annoyed, Davinia abided, pulling with more force than necessary. "What should I be looking at? Your hair is in even worse state, honestly."

"Because I used to dye it, aggressively." Lidia explained. "That is how it looks like. Look closer; that is a natural hair. How many women do you know with hair this fair?"

"This is pointless. As you said, she is wearing a wig or could dye her hair now that she knows you are into her. We are chasing a gods-damned alchemist, Aeneid." Davinia's bitterness intensified to nauseous degrees. "I have wasted enough time. We need to catch her before she disappears, and the trail only grows colder the more I talk with you."

Aeneid pleaded something, but her words did not reach the heights of Promethia.

*​

There would be time to rest or commiserate later. Davinia remembered how dangerous her solo encounter with Circe had been and wasn't taking any chances. High on the skies, with a nice overview of the Urbe and the countryside, Davinia focused in getting Sybil's attention.

"Is it the iconoclast chemist?" Sybil inquired, her mechanic voice betraying a disturbing lack of foresight and worse yet, hindsight.

"They are getting too bold, Sybil." Davinia lamented. "They attacked a theater in Rome."

"For what purpose, I wonder? Those are feeble, temporary structures. It is a lot of risk for limited gains. I don't understand."

Of course not. It was very much human nonsense.

"It is meant to deliver a message. To turn a symbol into a scar."

"I still don't get it." Sybil insisted. "Do you want me to look her up?"

"It is fine. Keep yourself to passive scanning." Davinia resigned herself to loneliness, accepting that Sybil was as much a liability as she was support. "We still do not know who she is working for. She can just be like those folks that attacked you, but with a leathery look."

"You say she is a clever, slippery type." Sybil concluded before bidding her farewell. "She could do worse than bring destruction to me."

"Talk to you later, Sybil. Keep your strength and take care, all right?"

Arpineia could not shake off an ominous feeling. How could someone like Sybil heal? Grow? Every-time they talked was haunting, like communing with a ghost; Davinia always compared it with previous interactions, wondering if there was a part of the mechanical oracle that had been forever lost.

Nevertheless, the night was hers. The lonely night, of cold winds and distant stars.

Promethia refused to sleep, but Arpineia had to slow down and rest at some point. They probably napped over one hour, perhaps not even that. There were too many hideouts, too many ways in and out of the Urbe—and more important, too many targets. Dawn came but clarity continued to elude Davinia; she felt like she had done little to no progress.

A capped figure waved at Davinia, sitting next to one river-side gate and waiting patiently. Promethia landed next to Aeneid; Lidia had half a loaf of freshly baked bread, which she happily shared.

"Thanks." Davinia murmured between bites, eyes tearing up as she spread crumbs all over her uniform.

"You look like a wreck." Lidia remarked, not looking any better herself.

Davinia kept chewing, still miserable.

"Did you find anything?" "No." Lidia shrugged. "But I was not looking."

"Why not?" Davinia spat out what little bread remained on her mouth.

"I'm awful at that. Besides, we could not afford Circe coming back during the night. I was going around the city, making sure they saw me."

"You may have scared her."

"That was the point." Lidia frowned.

"Thanks for the food." Davinia blurted, levitating back to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Lidia chased Davinia, keeping herself to short bursts.

"I need to continue searching for her." Promethia proposed, languishing as she gained altitude. Barely holding on, she floated as she looked around at a wakening world.

Lidia followed, stopping so that Promethia would not lose sight of her; the two Triumphants kept to themselves, communicating with rare signals and displeased grunts. As the sun rose to dominate the sky, Aeneid contemplated how Davinia's movements grew disheartened and erratic.

She stopped for a break, sitting on a rock and taking of her boots. It took Davinia a while to even notice her absence; impatient and annoyed, Promethia descended to Lidia's level, wondering why the woman had stopped her search.

Lidia received Davinia with her trademark cocky grin, emboldened and despondent at Promethia's contempt.

"I feel like I am perpetually disappointing you. We don't know each other, and yet, it keeps happening. It is messed up." The Refugee Prince chuckled. "Fucked up, even." Davinia was so astonished she almost dropped from the sky.

"How can you say that? I mean, you're wrong. No, what I mean is that it is not about that." Davinia waved her hands, flustered.

"Then why don't you talk to me? You would rather wander off aimless, instead of listening or having to explain your thought process to me?"

"It is nothing personal, Aeneid." Davinia moaned. "That is how I do things, all right? I think and act better on my own; I can't afford the luxury of companionship."

"AH!" Lidia snickered, pointing a finger at Promethia. "As if! That is the real luxury, the ability to play the lone wolf. That you think you are acting alone only reveals your privilege, little flame."

Arpineia landed, leaving a scorched circle where she touched the ground. She stumbled towards Lidia with an outrageous posture, too tired to play it cool.

"How dare you." Davinia's lower lip trembled."You, of all people, bark at me while eating scraps from the table of officers and magistrates! Talk about entitlement and privilege!"

Lidia crossed her arms, losing the smile as she leaned towards the approaching Triumphant.

"Precisely. I have to work with them. I am a Triumphant, a champion of a community; and yes, this requires me to do whatever is required to maintain their support. Imagine doing everything that needs to be done, that I want to be done, without this? It is delusional at best, exploitative at worst. You may not be appointed to speak or decide for them, but you are championing their stories. All we have inside, all we have between ourselves? It is all stories."

"How can you say that about me?" Davinia shouted, tears barely contained. "Assume the absolute worst?"

"I don't know you." Lidia's smile was kind, her embrace an invitation. "I can be wrong."

Davinia ran towards her and punched against Aeneid's tough chest, reluctantly surrendering to Lidia's appeasements. She could feel something wet land on her brow, but when she looked up, Lidia was rubbing her eyes."It is awful. Being alone makes everything so much difficult." Promethia admitted her frustration. "I don't feel like a Triumphant, I am alienated from the transformative potential of this power and trust. An usurper, a thief, unable to hear the mutual consensus. I cannot even stop that other lone wolf. You think I am just like Circe!"

"I don't think that at all." Lidia sounded just as destroyed and frustrated as Davinia. She patted the back of the other woman's head. "I'm sorry for pushing you, but you were focused on a destructive path. It hurts to be alone, and everything fails when you have been atomized, reduced to a disconnected individual. But you aren't alone anymore."

Promethia struggled to compose herself, free from Aeneid's embrace.

"Pathetic. Let's get hold of ourselves and find Circe. That's what matters. I need to punish her for always pushing me to a breaking point."

"Always, hum? Why don't you tell me about the other times you have encountered her?"

It was good to openly talk about that. They walked and flew over the outskirts of the Urbe, Lidia listening as Davinia talked about the events on Tarracina. Aeneid proved herself an attentive and accommodating listener.

"Let's get inside Circe's headspace." Lidia proposed. "She was willing to blow a small fleet and risk the operating costs required, just to send a noble family's stash to the bottom of the ocean."

"A priceless collection of cultural relics from the tapestry of Italian cultures." Davinia corrected. "It is a blow that nobody can recover from. We only have been left with notes and descriptions of some treasures that were on board."

"I think we may be chasing our tail by misconstruing Circe's destructive intent." Lidia contemplated.

"What do you mean?" Davinia was baffled. Cultural iconoclasty was bad enough; was this crime compounded by being a stepping ladder for something worse?

"If you compare the incidents of yesterday and the Epirote deal, they are nowhere in the same order of magnitude." Lidia noticed.

"It is an important event for regional theater." Davinia disagreed. "There was the chance of being something powerful and trend-setting; the event to see or be seen at."

"Could is the operative word there." Lidia pointed out. "She had no idea it would be so. From some reactions from people whose opinion I respect, it was far from subversive or forward-looking: not a worthwhile target. However, nobody could argue the value of the Numicii collection and the impact of its destruction—even from a purely material perspective."

"Hum. I don't like where this is going." Davinia predicted. "Hate to think Circe is taking even more from us."

"Theater is something whose intricacies escape me, but I've seen clowns and laughter across four continents." Lidia continued. "You can tell a lot about the value and liberty of a society by their humor."

"It is just good fun, Aeneid. Just jokes."

"Nothing is just jokes." Lidia countered. "A controlled, authoritarian society slaps any finger pointed against them and thrives in performative cruelty passing as humor; laughing at those worse than you, those crushed by the system, it benefits them. It reinforces the hierarchy and prevents useful criticism. Being able to write a piece like the "Claustulum", portraying the contemporary actions of the governing body and denouncing the exploiters instead of kicking the exploited, is the ultimate test of a society that claims to value freedom. Circe may target artistic expression, but not for its own shake: because of how uplifting it can be; how art can change us and the way we see ourselves. I never truly met someone until I have heard their dirtiest, nastiest jokes."

"All my jokes are self-deprecating." Davinia lied. There were a lot of puns.

"I love when those come out; they are horrifying when they rattle around in your noggin." Davinia dared to smile with newfound glee. "If you are right, and Circe aimed to disrupt a moment of civic communion, what did she target in the Epirote incidents?" A chuckle. "The capacity of aristocratic elements to hoard cultural items and to associate themselves with them, getting legitimacy by proximity?" "I am unfamiliar with the Numicii collection. Was that all it was?"

"No, it was a reliquary of all cultures that made our commune, present or lost to the trials of time." Promethia's expression darkened. "Curses. It fits your theory."

"It is just a theory." Lidia reminded her, but Arpineia was fired up.

"And it is the only lead we have! Quick, what else been elevating us in the last decades? What would this little piggy come into the Forum to destroy?"

*​

They resumed their search, taking turns scouting different locations. Anything inspiring, anything mad, anything unique.

They knocked names of their list, one by one.

"Maybe we scared her off." Lidia dared to hope.

"Unlikely." Davinia was taciturn. As much as being on Lidia's company was a nice change of pace, she could not properly enjoy herself until she had found evidence of Circe's departure. "We must be thinking too narrowly, maybe we need to expand to neighboring communities."

"I'm sure you will figure it out." Lidia supported Promethia. "If she is aiming higher instead of lying low, she is going for something deemed impossible. For something they judged our ragtag federation unable to accomplish."

Arpineia's hands closed on each other.

"I got it! The Fleet Groves!" Davinia said no more. "Follow me!"

They flew and ran towards the Lacus Volsinienses. During the Carthaginian War, Rome needed a fleet. They turned to the many settlements around the lake, and the ancient primal groves. This was Etruscan territory, and its people obligated to Rome for helping them resettle across multiple communes—and the locals were expert shipwrights and sailors. A group of heroic proles had enlisted pirate ships and captured a Punic vessel; from these humble beginnings designs were reverse-engineered, plans laid out, and training was done on lake and dry-land.

The result was a Rome able to challenge, and eventually beat, the supreme naval power of the era. All thanks to the devotion, stubbornness and communal work of the poor and ignored. They planted the Fleet Groves to replace those used to built the first three fleets, honoring the mercurial Voltumna—and being a source of wood, should a fourth fleet be ever required.

They were also sacred in a civic and social sense: while they remained green and vibrant, they would be a reminder of what they had accomplished. That all the wealth of the world, swords of kings and whims of the gods paled against the achievements of peoples working together, for each other. Now that was a monument worth destroying.

Smoke was coming from the edges of the Fleet Groves, all along the hills flanking the southern shore of the lake.

"Any chance this is the old crater stirring?" Aneied asked, with so little hope that it rendered the question rhetorical.

"None. We… I mean, the priestly colleges of Rome do their research on volcanic appeasement rituals in one of these towns; we would have known about it." Davinia's distress grew as thick, nasty towers of grey seized control of the skies. Lidia looked up at her floating form, wondering about what was going on Promethia's head and what she was planning. One hand on her chest and another in mouth, pain had taken over the other woman. Aeneid and Promethia's sparkles resonated—in a more intimate but suffering way than before."She is setting these beautiful woods on fire, Aeneid."

"Promethia, look at me. We will stop her." Arpineia stared at Lidia, eyes widening. Aeneid mustered all the mirth and confidence within the dredges of her soul, resonating them back at Promethia. Doubt paralyzed Davinia, as she relived her previous encounter on Tarrencina, or worse yet, how her stolen power seemed to reject her. Davinia's anxiety, shame and dread echoed back to Lidia; given the choice between being a leader or kind, Aeneid was both. "No, you will do it because you can do it like nobody else. Keep the fires in check."

"And you?" Davinia wanted Lidia by her side. She wanted it more than anything she had ever dared to want.

"I will be boar hunting. Can't have her disturb your work." And with that she was gone.

Davinia frowned and took to the skies. She contacted Sybil, asking her to help run the calculations and contingencies. Figure how the fires had started, the whims of the winds and direction of purpose. High above, Arpineia focused in starving fires and raising curtains of air; she kept her Triumph reaching out, on the lookout for any remarkable change, any hint of Circe's presence.

There it was, an odd metallic ignition. Davinia acted out of reckless impulse, speeding up once she sensed Lidia's spark racing towards the same direction. If she would fight, she would not be fighting alone. Arpineia arrived right on time, spinning towards a clearing. Aeneid darted between the trees, revealing herself only to block Circe's escape path. She would go nowhere as her fires lived; Lidia has Circe cornered. "Stay back!" Aeneid shouted, sensing Promethia above her.

"She is full of tricks, I can help!"

"I know you can, but only you can control the forest fire." Lidia pointed out, before being distracted by grunting and snapping of bone.

Circe's muscles burst as her hairs grew, her spine breaking and reforming. The transformation was uncanny, fed by the resonating sparks of the Triumphants hunting her. Davinia gasped; the hybrid she fought on the ship's cargo hold had been enormous, but Circe towered over Lidia.

It worried at least one of them.

Circe lunged against Aeneid, each step carving the earth and positioning her closer to a deadly blow. Lidia laughed at each dodge, her cloak tightly wrapped around her shoulder.

"Excellent. Would you look at that." Lidia opened her mouth in awesome delight, eyes following to contour of the veins and strained muscles of Circe's arm as it struck where her head had just been. "You are so strong. Can I feel them?"

"Aeneid!" Davinia cried, exasperated. "She is dangerous!"

A grunt and a swing, Lidia rolling over and appearing behind Circe.

"I'm counting on that. Oh my, this is such a difference from the meek arsonist I trounced through the quarry." The Triumphant pugilist was enjoying this too much.

Another swing, dangerously close to Lidia's belly; at the same time Circe tried to awkwardly snap the cloak, only to have it tear on her clumsy fingers.

"You are definitely strong. However, you lack technique." Lidia maneuvered around Circe, making her speed up, spin and grunt in discouraging exhaustion. "You can pack all the muscle you want, grow your hair into tusks, claws or whatever. But you are not a fighter. And me? I am the fighter."

Lidia jumped around, barely using any of her Triumphant abilities. She danced around Circe, inviting the pig closer, parrying and guiding her movements. Davinia calmed, hypnotized by the well-coordinated and purposeful movements; like a snake charmer, Aeneid was in absolute control. Circe had yet to realize, but they had locked her in a state of permanent reaction, chasing after a golden string and re-enacting one of Zeno's paradoxes. Arpineia forced her mouth shut as she glimpsed Lidia readying one hell of a sucker punch.

"NO!" Davinia shouted, too late. The punch was strong enough to throw Circe against shrubbery, leather, and cord snipping. Lidia coughed as a cloud of colored smoke covered them. Promethia's first impulse was to dive in and push Lidia away, but that may just get the two of them hamstrung. And what if it was as bad as last time? There was nobody around. Who would come rushing into a forest fire? They could only count on each other. As her thoughts raced, Lidia kept breathing, mouth agape as she was back on the defensive against Circe; Aeneid's spark seemed to resonate less at each moment, and Lidia's eyes were half-closed.

Self-doubt would have to step aside. Narrowing her eyes, Davinia projected her Triumph ahead, overwhelming the other Triumphants as she imposed control of the narrative upon herself. Promethia gathered the fire, ready to unleash it; she poured herself into the world. A red and blue arrow manifested, whistling and darting across the forest, phasing in and out of reality; it answered to her intent, landing into the smoke cloud and burning it. A singed Lidia and a tired Circe stood over each other, startled by the odd fire arrow; the smell of burnt oil, hair and bacon filled the woodlands.

"Oh, that was a close one." Lidia coughed, nodding gratefully at Davinia.

"Yeah, she can do that. And worse." Davinia crossed her arms. "Don't punch her."

"Pity, there is something cathartic about punching a big pig." Lidia stumbled a little as Circe lunged at her. "I think she got me." Davinia gathered flame around herself in reflexive terror; Lidia dissuaded her with a cocky smile.

"I have to finish this in one go." She pulled her hairpin, caressing the triple leaf-like pattern. "Promethia, gorgeous! The instant this hits the ground, open a path for me through the flames. I'm counting on you!" She was gone. Davinia looked in disbelief at the hairpin, spinning up in the air. Circe started to run; the hairpin could not defy gravity and sped up towards the ground. Promethia held her breath. She was ready.

Aeneid's Triumph approached like tax season, heralding its advance with forceful strength. An overwhelming reality super-imposed over the woodlands, the creeping realization that Lidia had ran the entire length of the Via Appia in a fulminant instant. A red trail was incoming, snuffing many of the fires tamed by Promethia. Lidia's cestus glittered with sweat, so warm that it vanished in vapor. All the momentum focused on a single strike, hitting Circe center mass and projecting her through nine trees.

And exploding every one of her skin patches and leather tags. Lidia disappeared in the middle of a thick cloud.

This time Promethia refused any pretenses of caution. She darted right into the cloud, spinning fire to disperse it. Grunting, she grabbed Lydia; her spark was fading. Davinia stared at the pile of trunks, stones and dust where Circe was buried; cursing, she accepted that would have to wait. Promethia stumbled away from the clearing, longing for the clear air of the lake. Straining all the way, Davinia took Lidia to one of the tuff islands. The effort almost killed her, but staying in the middle of a only-sort-of-controlled forest fire? That would definitely kill both of them.

"That was a close one." Lidia lamented, barely aware of the landing. "Look at that, I can barely feel my legs. My nerve endings are flaring! It's so weird."

Promethia wanted to scream. Everything was hurt. They stood voiceless, breathing erratically. Lidia found some reserves of strength, slowly raising and looking across the lake to the dying fires.

"We did good." Aeneid rubbed her head, exhaustion creeping in as a migraine. "All things considered."

"Shut up." Davinia whispered, drawing Lidia's attention. She unwrapped her scarf, rubbing her neck and squinting in pain.

They locked eyes, a sad and resigned smile clinging to Lidia's lips. It was heartbreaking. Davinia pulled the old, long needle from her scarf.

Arpineia pricked herself. Lidia's eyes widened and face reddened.

"My name is Davinia. I have been Arpineia and Promethia for a while." The Triumphant revealed herself. The Vestal stumbled towards the other woman. "And I am very, very tired." Lidia reached out to grab her, but Davinia was faster; she spun on the air, climbing atop of Lidia and wrapping her legs around her ribs. Giving into the flow, Lidia caressed her back and supported Davinia, guiding her even closer as she kissed her neck. Davinia bit into Lidia's left earlobe, demanding further attention.

"Come, hold my Triumph within your hands. Be the hearth to my flame." Another bite. "If you dare."