Res Publica: A Quest of Ancient Rome

[Telamon]

So I whipped up a character sheet for Caesar, partly because I wanted to and partly so y'all can see what an endgame Quintus might/should look like. This is Caesar directly before his assassination in 44 BC.

Auguries and Foretellings

The Ides of March [EPIC]: You were approached by a wizened old man in the Forum, and in the voice of an augur, he decreed that the one named Caesar must beware the Ides of March. A great doom lies on the horizon, swiftly approaching for the sun that has grown blind in the light of his own glory.

The Prophecy of the Caesars [EPIC]: The Sybilline Books say that after a time of great war, a race of hairy ones shall raise Rome up from the dust and give her a thousand years of glory. The books say that they shall kill her and save her all at once, and that though not bound by blood, their line will last for a thousand years. The prophecies of the Sibyls say that the last of the hairy ones will never walk in Rome and never speak Latin, but he will die alone with a sword in his hand, defending the last of the Romans — and the dream of Rome will die with him.

Social Status

Name: Gaius Julius Caesar
Age: 55 (Born 100 B.C)
Family: Gens Julia
Class: Patrician
Profession: General/Politician
Public Party: Populares
Private Party: Caesarist Populares
Patron(s): None
Clients: Marcus Antonius, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus
Children: Gaius Julius Octavianus (Adopted); Julia of the Julii (Deceased); Ptolemy XV Philopator Philometor Caesar (Bastard)
Imperium: The Republic herself
Reputation: (Rank 20) Revered -- The last of the Triumvirs and the First Citizen, the heir of Marius and the inheritor of Sulla, the imperator and the dictator, a living god in flesh -- Caesar.

Economic Status

Wealth: 4000 talents
Monthly Income: 3400 denarii
Buildings Owned: The Domus of the Julii (net worth: 380 talents), the Curia Julia (net worth: 1200 talents)
Land Held: 400 acres (net worth: 1360 talents)
Slaves Owned: 230
Debts Owed: 11
Debts Held: 34

Titles and Honors

Cognomina: Caesar (lit. 'Hairy one')
Agnomen: Imperator, Gallicus, Pater Patriae
Honors and Decorations: The Civic Crown, Pater Patriae (lit. Father of the Fatherland)
Offices Held: Dictator-For-Life, Prefect of the Morals, Tribune, Consul, Pontifex Maximus
Past Offices Held: Consul, Proconsul, Legatus, Praetor, Aedile, Military Tribune, Pontifex Maximus, Flamen Dialis, propraetor, censor
Triumphs Held: 8
Cases Won: 21
Campaigns Led: 33
Consulates Held: 5

Stats

Military: Legendary (19) -- You are military mind to rival all others, equaling Hannibal and Alexander, a commander who will be immortalized as legend in the centuries to come. You have no equal in Rome, living or dead.
Charisma: Epic (18) -- Your voice can sway the dead and bind the living. Your soldiers would die for you a thousand times, and your followers would conquer the world in your name.
Stewardship: Very Poor (2) -- Coin is no concern for the greatest of all.
Intelligence: Renowned (16) -- Soft of tongue and quick of wit, adaptive and possessed of great foresight, you are one of Rome's finest minds.
Education: Renowned (15) -- You have read the works of the elders and heard the words of Socrates and Plato. You walk in the footsteps of the ancients, and their words fall from your lips like jewels.
Subterfuge: Accomplished (14) -- Your foes vanish in the night and your will is done in the dark.

Skills

Combat: Epic (18) -- No man may stand against Caesar and live.
Oratory: Renowned (16) -- You speak, and the mob swells. Your voice is a thunderbolt from on high, and only a few in the Republic might match it.
Command: Mythical (20) -- No man who has ever served under you would do less than die on his sword at your word. The legions are yours, mind, body, and soul. You command the soldier's hand, the soldier's thought, the soldier's heart. When you make a fist, the legions roar, and you are adored as unto a living god by your men.
Engineering: Renowned (15) -- The legions build the roads, and all roads lead to Rome.
Logistics: Accomplished (13) — Armies are little but numbers and lines, numbers and lines you can understand with ease.
Law: Epic (18) -- The law is the word, the word is the law, and Caesar is the word.
Philosophy: Renowned (15): The words of the ancients thunder through your mind. Plato, Diogenes, Socrates -- these have been your teachers.
Administration: Legendary (19): The sun, the stars, the years and the days, all run by your clock and by your word. From chaos and disorder, you forge order.
Diplomacy: Accomplished (12): Your words have bested almost as many foes as your sword.

Auguries and Foretellings

The Ides of March [EPIC]: You were approached by a wizened old man in the Forum, and in the voice of an augur, he decreed that the one named Caesar must beware the Ides of March. A great doom lies on the horizon, swiftly approaching for the sun that has grown blind in the light of his own glory.

The Prophecy of the Caesars [EPIC]: The Sybilline Books say that after a time of great war, a race of hairy ones shall raise Rome up from the dust and give her a thousand years of glory. The books say that they shall kill her and save her all at once, and that though not bound by blood, their line will last for a thousand years. The prophecies of the Sibyls say that the last of the hairy ones will never walk in Rome and never speak Latin, but he will die alone with a sword in his hand, defending the last of the Romans — and the dream of Rome will die with him.

Social Status

Name: Gaius Julius Caesar
Age: 55 (Born 100 B.C)
Family: Gens Julia
Class: Patrician
Profession: General/Politician
Public Party: Populares
Private Party: Caesarist Populares
Patron(s): None
Clients: Marcus Antonius, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus
Children: Gaius Julius Octavianus (Adopted); Julia of the Julii (Deceased); Ptolemy XV Philopator Philometor Caesar (Bastard)
Imperium: The Republic herself
Reputation: (Rank 20) Revered -- The last of the Triumvirs and the First Citizen, the heir of Marius and the inheritor of Sulla, the imperator and the dictator, a living god in flesh -- Caesar.

 

[Caesar]

I felt the urge to stretch my creative muscles a little. Not sure how this turned out. It's been a while.

Spoiler: Of Diseases and Cures

"There will come a time, young Atellus, when neither knowledge of the law, nor eloquent oratory, nor even being in the right will avail you in court."

As had become their habit, they sat where they had first met, on Scaevola's balcony, overlooking Rome. The view frequently served as a prop in these little discussions. The Pontifex Maximus, Quintus Cingulatus had discovered, possessed a well-developed melodramatic streak.

But then, such are the requirements of oratory.

Now, though, the old man seemed subdued. More, for the first time Atellus could recall, his age seemed to diminish him rather than enhance his dignitas. Weariness hung on him like a burial shroud, the grey of his eyes now less iron and more aged, crumbling stone.

"Bribery," Atellus ventured at last, seeking to break a silence grown suddenly oppressive.

Scaevola frowned.

"That is a large part of it, yes, but it is not the whole of the problem. It comes back to our Roman hatred of bureaucracy, and that venomous demagogue Gaius Gracchus." He paused, looking expectantly at his pupil.

Used by now to his teacher's foibles, Atellus considered the thread of their conversation, and followed it to its logical conclusion.

"Tax farming in Asia," he said, "and equestrian juries."

"Just so," Scaevola said, smiling bitterly. "And thus were the equestrians simultaneously handed both the opportunity to enrich themselves beyond even their wildest, most deluded hopes, and the means to evade the consequences of their crimes against the Republic's name and abuse of her subjects. Gaius Gracchus was a grasping fool and an aspiring tyrant, but I wonder if he realised what harm he wrought with that, what poison he loosed in the very heart of the Republic." His voice strengthened, ringing with conviction as rage restored his animus.

"The publicani and their ilk are a cancer. They know nothing of what it means to be Roman, nothing of the virtues and traditions our strength is built on. The lowest drunkard in Rome's meanest gutter knows more of restraint and self-discipline. Their wanton exploitation almost beggared Asia, and the naked cruelty with which they pursue it led the province to welcome Mithridates with open arms. They are a cancer, and I grow increasingly convinced they must be excised like one."

He subsided, glaring out over the city, his earlier frailty burned away like morning mist under the sunlight of righteous fury.

"Are they truly untouchable in the courts, then?" Atellus asked quietly. Scaevola's words had been quite a blow to his image of Rome. A boy's image, he would freely concede, but no less treasured for that.

For if it is not Rome as it is, it is Rome as she should be. And how shall that come to pass if those of us who are to lead her do not hold the ideal close to our hearts?

Scaevola gave another bitter smile.

"I assume you have heard of what became of Rutilius Rufus." It was not a question. "A former consul, exiled from Rome, denied all those things that make a citizen a citizen, and all for the crime of helping me to attempt to restrain the publicani in their shameless rape of Asia."

"More than an attempt, surely. I have heard that the locals still celebrate a festival in your honour," Atellus interjected.

Scaevola gestured curtly. "I am not yet so old as to need cosseting boy. Now, let me come to the point. Rufus had the support of Antonius Orator, Crassus Orator, and myself. All modesty aside, any one of us could stand as peer to Demosthenes. All three together? The match has not yet been seen. But gold has an eloquence unsurpassed by any man, and the Equestrian Order are not likely to stopper their ears against its blandishments. And did not, that day."

They sat in silence for some minutes, the dull roar of the greatest city in the world washing over them, before Scaevola stirred again.

"Their short-sightedness mystifies me," he admitted. "It is right and proper for a man to profit from his service to the Republic, so long as the Republic profits from his service, but the publicani consume until nothing is left. They would have been as wealthy in five years under my administration as they would have been left to their own devices, and wealthier in ten. Aye, and Mithridates would yet be entangled in Cappadoccia and Bithynia. But as well wish for the Tiber to flow with Falernian as for mortal men to not be fools."

Atellus hesitated a moment before speaking.

"I fear I may not show the same aptitude for it as I have for other subjects, but my interest is piqued. Where would you suggest I seek further knowledge in such matters?"

The Pontifex Maximus gave him a long, searching look.

"I do not like to speak of my time in Asia," he said at last. "The memories are tainted. But I will give you what notes I have remaining. You are bright enough to gain something from that, I think, and we shall see where we go from there."

Scaevola was as good as his word. Within two days Atellus found his room overflowing with scroll buckets crammed with rolls of finest papyrus covered in the old man's spidery script.

Word Count ~881

 

[Telamon]

My muse was bugging me, so here he is: the god himself, the First Citizen and the finest of the Romans, the first Emperor and the Greatest:

Auguries and Foretellings

The Prophecy of the Caesars [EPIC]: The Sybilline Books say that after a time of great war, a race of hairy ones shall raise Rome up from the dust and give her a thousand years of glory. The books say that they shall kill her and save her all at once, and that though not bound by blood, their line will last for a hundred years.

Social Status

Name: Imperator Caesar Divi Filius Augustus (Born Gaius Octavius Thurinus)
Age: 77 (Born 63 B.C)
Family: Gens Julia (Adopted from the Gens Octavia).
Class: Patrician
Profession: Imperator of the Romans
Public Party: N/A
Private Party: Augustus
Patron(s): None
Clients: Tiberius Claudius Nero, Germanicus Julius Caesar, Tiberius Claudius Drusus
Wife: Livia Drusilla Augusta
Children: Julia of the Julii (Disowned)
Imperium: The Republic herself
Reputation: (Rank 25) Revered -- The god and the son of a god, the second of the Caesars, the First Citizen, the Emperor. None live — none would dare live — who equal him. Kings, tyrants, dictators — they humble themselves before his sun and chain themselves to the chariot of his state. His name will echo forever through time, and in after years, men —many men— will wage war for the honor of bearing his name.

Economic Status

Wealth: 13,000 talents
Monthly Income: 12000 denarii
Buildings Owned: The Domus of the Julii (net worth: 500 talents), the Curia Julia (net worth: 1200 talents), the Palace of Augustus (2000 talents), the Palace of the Augusta (2500 talents), the Domus of the Claudians (600 talents), The Temple of Caesar (300 Talents), The Forum of Augustus (800 talents), the Baths of Agrippa (200 Talents), the Mausoleum of Augustus (900 talents), the Temple of Mars Ultor (700 talents),
Land Held: 1,200 acres (net worth: 3000 talents)
Slaves Owned: 1,450
Debts Owed: 0
Debts Held: 411

Titles and Honors

Cognomina: Caesar (lit. 'Hairy one'), Augustus (lit. 'The Great'), Divi Filius (lit. 'The Son of God'), Imperator (lit. One-Who-Holds-Empire)
Agnomen: Imperator, Father of the Fatherland, First Citizen, Princeps Senatus, Augustus the God.
Honors and Decorations: The Civic Crown, Pater Patriae (lit. Father of the Fatherland), Imperator, First Citizen, First of the Senate, the Grass Crown
Offices Held: Censor, Imperator, Prefect of the Morals, Tribune, Consul, Legatus, Praetor
Past Offices Held: Consul, Proconsul, Legatus, Praetor, Aedile, Military Tribune, Pontifex Maximus, propraetor, censor, Triumvir
Triumphs Held: 7
Cases Won: 84
Campaigns Led: 2
Consulates Held: 27

Stats

Military: Average (5) -- You are no great leader, but you can command competently enough to be called Roman.
Charisma: Mythical (20) -- A sweeter tongue never lived. Your words bend hearts, minds, wills, and nations. You are beloved and revered, idolized and lionized by every Roman who bears the name. When you speak, Apollo weeps. When you smile, Jove bows. No man is, was, or will ever be as loved as the Son of Caesar.
Stewardship: Legendary (19) -- You are the captain of the Ship of State, the guiding hand at the wheel of Rome. The wealth and the lives of untold millions rest in the palm of your hand. You spin gold from blood and back again. If a man lives and breathes in Rome, he owes you coin.
Intelligence: Epic (18) -- Yours is an intelligence and strength of mind almost unmatched throughout the ages of mankind. Every foe you have ever had has fallen not to your sword, but to your strength of thought and wit.
Education: Epic (18) -- There is little you do not know. You are the modern Alexander, the new Sesostris, Romulus reborn. History, math, the sciences — you have read of them all. Knowledge, they say, is power, and Augustus knows all.
Subterfuge: Mythic (20) -- There are no words spoken in Rome you do not hear. No man breathes, lies, or betrays without you knowing of it. Your servants are the very shadows themselves, and you? If Rome is a great web of lies, you are the spider, monstrous and all-knowing, perched in the center, waiting ever-so-patiently for the fly.

Skills

Combat: Poor (4) -- You are not exactly skilled in combat, but no man would ever —could ever— draw blade against the Imperator.
Oratory: Renowned (17) -- You speak, and ten million hearts are bound to you. You suggest a course, and Rome follows. You are not the greatest tongue Rome has ever known. But you are close. Cicero weeps.
Command: Accomplished (13) -- You are no great military leader, it is true. But your tongue, your will, your very presence on a battlefield inspires men to fight harder, to die well in the name of the God.
Law: Legendary (19) -- The law? The law is words on paper, sounds in air. The law requires the will and the strength to impose it, enforce it, shape it. You are that will. You are that strength. You are Augustus.
Philosophy: Renowned (15): The words of the ancients thunder through your mind. Plato, Diogenes, Socrates -- these have been your teachers.
Administration: Mythical (20): Rome needs a firm hand, a guiding hand. You are that hand. The Senate, the Army, the People — all work, all sleep, all eat and walk and breathe as you design, as you orchestrate, as you command. You do not serve the State, you do not even lead it. No, you are the State.
Diplomacy: Legendary (19): Pax Romana, they call it, but it is a lie. What does Rome know of peace? She is a thing of war. No, the peace is yours and yours alone. You have cowed Rome's foes for a millennium, forged treaties and taken oaths that will last two hundred years. It is the Pax Augusta, for though Rome rules the world, Augustus rules Rome.

Auguries and Foretellings

The Prophecy of the Caesars [EPIC]: The Sybilline Books say that after a time of great war, a race of hairy ones shall raise Rome up from the dust and give her a thousand years of glory. The books say that they shall kill her and save her all at once, and that though not bound by blood, their line will last for a hundred years.

Social Status

Name: Imperator Caesar Divi Filius Augustus (Born Gaius Octavius Thurinus)
Age: 77 (Born 63 B.C)
Family: Gens Julia (Adopted from the Gens Octavia).
Class: Patrician
Profession: Imperator of the Romans
Public Party: N/A
Private Party: Augustus
Patron(s): None
Clients: Tiberius Claudius Nero, Germanicus Julius Caesar, Tiberius Claudius Drusus
Wife: Livia Drusilla Augusta
Children: Julia of the Julii (Disowned)
Imperium: The Republic herself
Reputation: (Rank 25) Revered -- The god and the son of a god, the second of the Caesars, the First Citizen, the Emperor. None live — none would dare live — who equal him. Kings, tyrants, dictators — they humble themselves before his sun and chain themselves to the chariot of his state. His name will echo forever through time, and in after years, men —many men— will wage war for the honor of bearing his name.

Now, I'm not saying this is necessarily impossible for Atellus, just that it would take the greatest minmaxing I've ever seen, in the total opposite direction from which you're currently headed.

 

[Panory]

Ten Denarii​

"Rufus! I'm glad you could make it." You clap him on the back as you usher him into your tent. It's not quite right to call your reasons for talking with Rufus 'conspiracy', but the planned topic is more conniving than discussing a simple plan.

"Of course! Bandying words with you is always a pleasure, especially after how droll my comrades on the campaign trail turned out to be. The topic is certainly interesting, but one can only bear so much talk of swords and armor before they go mad." The two of you gave the joke a respectable chuckle before moving on to more important matters. "Still, your message read more urgent than mere discussion. What crisis has befallen you?"

"No crisis, but an opportunity." you explain. "Sertorius has seen fit to grant me command of a sizable portion of the legion, and he's assigned you to that very same portion."

"Well then I look forward to working with you. Perhaps we may even find time to discuss something not related to this war."

"I would enjoy that immensely." you say. "But alas, now is not such a time. I wish to discuss tactics, and more specifically, how you might aid me with them."

"I am afraid I am not your equal in that regard. I have gained some knowledge of battle, but my passion is still law whereas you have taken to war like a shark to the sea." Rufus shakes his head. "I fail to see what help I could be."

"I am nowhere near as skilled a commander as Sertorius, yet he has put me in command of half a legion."

Rufus sputters. "Half? You said a sizable portion, not half."

You would be lying if you said you didn't draw pleasure from his shocked expression, but you decide to continue your point rather than tease him with your success. "Half is a sizable portion. But as I was saying, he has given me this command because he faces a host of problems and cannot afford to deal with them one at a time."

Rufus nodded knowingly. "And the problem he has assigned you is in turn comprised of smaller problems you must, yet cannot deal with all at once?"

"If the gods have not seen fit to grant Sertorius the power to be in multiple places at once, I can assure you they have passed by me with that gift as well." you lament.

Rufus laughs good-naturedly. "So you wish to delegate to me. Very well then, what task am I to perform?"

"I could tell you, but I suspect you'd enjoy a little game first." you tease. "A hypothetical scenario. Solve it, and you'll have your role in all this."

"A word puzzle? By all means." As you being, you can tell you have Rufus' interest and undivided attention.

"Suppose you place ten denarii in your purse and go for a pleasant stroll through Rome to partake in some fresh air." you begin, setting the scene. "All of a sudden, you are beset by two men. One draws his dagger and demands ten denarii lest he sheathe it in your gut. The second man offers to sell his services to you. Protection from brigands and thieves in exchange for ten denarii. Who do you give your ten denarii to?"

Rufus places a hand on his chin, deep in thought as he mulls over the hypothetical situation. "Am I correct to assume I am incapable of defending myself in this scenario?" he asks.

"For the sake of argument, let us say you left your blade at home, and the man with the dagger is quite intimidating, but the potential bodyguard is stronger."

"Then I would pay the bodyguard." he answers. "It deals with the current assailant as well as any future thieves, leaving me free to enjoy my walk through Rome."

You raise a finger knowingly. "Ah, but at the end of the day, those two men return to the same hideout and split your denarii down the middle."

"A trick!" Rufus exclaims. "I suspect the same would have happened if I had paid off the man with the dagger?"

"But of course."

"So then there was no way to win, then?" asks Rufus.

"On the contrary, there were two ways to succeed." You withhold the answer, reveling in Rufus' confusion. Rather than admit defeat, Rufus furrows his brow and thinks.

"Two ways? I cannot fathom one…" he mumbles. You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and a smile splits yours in two. "Two ways. By being either a man with a dagger or a man driving off thieves."

"There's no way to lose."

"So which man am I in your plans? The man with the dagger, or the bodyguard?" asks Rufus.

"Well, I've already burned Aeclanum to the ground. A mighty fine dagger if I am to play the villain in our little tale, wouldn't you say?" A jovial smirk graces your face.

"A well made dagger indeed." agrees Rufus. "But isn't the point of the bodyguard to be more powerful than the man with the dagger in order to drive him off?"

"Why Rufus, you are a man backed by the full might of Rome! There is no one more powerful!" you jest before growing serious. "We will have to adjust our plan on the fly, but here it is in general. You offer to protect them if only they would swear allegiance to Rome, and I threaten to treat them as enemies of the legion unless they swear allegiance to Rome."

"A fine plan, but I wouldn't have paid the bodyguard if I knew he and the man with the dagger were conspiring together." counters Rufus. "We are both citizens of Rome, the offers will come from the same place."

"A fair point, but the issue is solved before it arises. The Samnites will reject any offer from Rome on principle, it is their way. Any option is unsavory to them if it involves swearing themselves to Rome. The key is to give them an option. Do not let them think of rejecting it outright. Let them take the less unsavory deal, and they will leave the meeting table with high spirits, thinking they've won."

"All the while not realizing we've each taken five denarii the moment their backs are turned." Rufus said with a knowing smile to match your own.

"Exactly." you say. "So what do you think?"

"I think if everyone made tactics as enjoyable a topic to discuss as you, I'd have the motivation to become Rome's greatest general."



AN: Someone mentioned 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' and it stuck in my head. So here's this.

 

[Japanime]

The Dogs of War
​

Screams fill the air as you follow your charge into the narrow streets of this accursed place. Aeclanum. They had felt Rome's fury before for their impudence and were granted a small mercy in return afterwards by being allowed to keep their wretched ruin of a home. Now they had risen up again, and so another generation of Roman blood is tested and spilled in these very streets. As you march alongside to reinforce the rest of the cohort your old bones can hear the echoing clash of arms through the empty streets, the sound of steel striking steel and flesh in equal measure, all of it causing you to slip back somewhat to older days. Hispania, even now you found yourself reminiscing about bygone days where you were a simple Centurion serving under a different Cingulatus. The conflict in the air brought back vivid images to you, of standing at the forefront of a century with a scutum in one hand and gladius in the other as you fought shoulder to shoulder against waves and waves of Celtic and Iberian tribesmen. Once again you found yourself in an army led by Sertorius, yet at the moment you were apprehensive. Atellus was like a son to you, having practically raised him from birth. You had taught him almost everything you knew, which made you the best person to know his measure. Many great Romans had tried to tame the Samnites, with the latest in Sulla having clearly failed as well. With this town standing as an homage to his failure here you found yourself wondering how Atellus would fare under this test. However, as you marched further and further into the town proper, the sounds of smells of battle became clearer and clearer to you. Gripping your sword tighter in response, you found your mind drawn to the sounds of the shouts of men, the clashes of steel, alongside the smell of spilled blood, sweaty bodies, and overall carnage. While they could take the man out of the Legion, they would never take the Legion out of the man.

Sighting the scene of the fighting, you can tell immediately that the combat is fierce. Blood runs unimpeded through the streets, and corpses lie directly at the feet of the men. Even the hardened veterans of the first cohort struggle against the ferocity of the Samnites. Some may have thought it impossible for a bunch of ill-led rabble to withstand the might of one of Rome's Legions, however in your experienced eye you can tell that they are no mere disorganized mob. No, in each and every one of their eyes you can see an ironclad determination that binds each and every one of them together. It does not matter if before they were simply farmers, butchers, or what have you. At the moment they are fighting like cornered animals, and those are often the fiercest when near the end. You would not faulted your charge if he had not risen to the occasion and led the men forward from here, it was his first command after all and no matter how much training he receives sometimes no amount of training prepares you for leading men into battle. Yet as you expected he did not disappoint you. Staring into the tumultuous combat taking place down below, you watch as his aquiline features set themselves in determination.

"Men of the Sixth! Hear me! Before you now lay the Samnites, cursed and wretched foes that our forefathers and ancestors have fought for generations. We stand here today as arbiters of Roman justice and retribution. Take heart men, for Rome is watching. Every Samnite you slay here is another that is not ravaging Roman lands. I cannot say that all of you will live to see the end of this day. But, know that I will too will lead from the front and fight alongside you, and for those of you who fall, your names will live on forever. Men, follow me and I will lead you to riches and glory alike. For we are the Sixth! The Blessed of Mars! Now, show these curs the might of Rome!" comes the rallying cry from Atellus, his charisma and confidence inspiring the men before you, proud veterans all, to let out war cries of their own as the implacable advance of the cohort becomes a furious charge as you all burst into the fray.

Up ahead you can see that the Samnites have finally noticed you and the remains of the cohort. Eyes widen, mouths gape, and tunics are wet with piss as they see your charge about to reach them.

It is Atellus of course who reaches the enemy first, a flanking group of Samnites who were trying to envelop the first group led by Mercator. Ducking under the errant swing of one of the desperate men before him, a woodsman's axe goes high over his head, before he buries his gladius deep into the gut of the one who had tried to end him in a single, quick, and vicious stab that has the man holding onto his wound briefly before collapsing onto the ground.

Soon enough you find yourself joining him in the clash moments later. While your bones may be old and your muscles not as firm as they used to be in their prime, a lifetime of experience in Rome's Legions has given you more than enough to defeat the foe before you. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the legionnaires beside you, you use your scutum to expertly block the furious blows sent your way. Stabs from a pitchfork fail to penetrate the shield you are carrying, a blow from a club is deftly deflected and turned through a parry of your own. All the while you continue to stab forward with your gladius, your seasoned eye allowing you to spot momentary openings in an instant and seize upon them. You are pure efficiency as you continue to scythe through the opposition before you. One man you stab in the eye, your blade piercing his skull in the instant he overextended, another you stabbed him through his armpit while he was distracted by the legionnaire at your side. Through it all, you find yourself getting reacquainted with the feeling of steel sliding through flesh and bone, a jolting sensation that only one who lives to make war can ever get used to.

While the men beside you and behind you had at first thought you were a simple servant at first, your time in the yard with them and in a few routine spars had shown that beneath your leathery exterior laid a man of iron. You had earned their respect, and their trust. While you may not have been one of them at this moment, you were still a product of the legions and that granted you courtesy and respect enough.

It was a grinding advance, one that favored the legion, but an annoying situation all the same. You found that even your sword arm was getting somewhat tired from having to stab them over and over and over again. Oh sure, the Samnites tried many times to outwit Atellus and the cohort with a feigned retreat there, an ambush from a side street here, or the old pretending to be dead under the bodies trick there. None of that fazed your charge however. Fighting nearby you watched as he led the lead detachment forward, passing a ruined manse while successfully fixing the flanking detachment before him. Standing at the forefront, with his badge of office clear for all to seem, the Samnites, being the canny fighters that they were, charged him. While they may have fought furiously and for a worthy cause in their eyes, Atellus simply fought and led better. Deflecting blows with an odd grace, and dealing devastating damage with that flashing blade of his, the enemy quickly found that even anger and righteousness fury were not everything. That was the last thing they learned in any case, as Atellus was more than cunning enough to use this situation to his advantage, as while they were fixated on him they noticed too late before another detachment slammed in behind them and cut them to pieces.

Even through all of this however, you have to give the Samnites credit, for all the devastating losses they had suffered, all of the death and destruction dealt upon them, they still did not give up when many other foes, many you remember being better provisioned and equipped, would have simply fallen apart. Carpets of Samnite dead litter the streets, their lifeblood flowing through the mixture of dirt and cobbled roads creating an almost squelching mud as you continued your advance.

Where before you found yourself facing men in their fighting prime, now you were fighting youths and women as they tried to avenge their fallen. What was once an ebbing tide swelled forth back again as they came at you and the cohort from everywhere. Standing side to side, with a shieldwall presented to towards them you felt a press of bodies meet you all while the Samnites make their final stand. Daggers and swords are thrust at you, a legionnaire further to your right falling to an upthrust sword aimed at him by a youth younger than even your charge, one who is quickly cut down by the legionnaire who steps forth to fill his spot in the line, with the youth quickly going to join his father in whatever wretched afterlife the Samnites believe in.

What was once a steady advance had become an arduous crawl. The foes before you now were unending in their fury as they charged at the cohort with reckless abandon, their eyes bloodshot and their bodies resilient as you see many take more wounds than they could possibly survive and continue fighting despite it, one woman simply charging through the gladius that had impaled her to club the legionnaire and take him to the ground.

On and on this goes, enemies uncountable fall to your blade. You know that this cannot go on, yet you are not in a position to do anything about it. At the same time however, you are sure that if you know, Atellus likely does as well. Fighting nearby him, you can see that even as the sweat continues to stream down his face, and the blood continues to drip down his arm, his expression remains as poised and composed as ever. To you, that assures you that he has a plan and that he has some gambit that will deliver you from this ordeal. Soon enough, your trust is paid off when you see one, two, three, and more fires erupt around the city, illuminating this charnel house with blood and flame. As soon as the smoke plumes can be seen rising into the blue sky above you, the screams of those burning piercing the shroud of the battlefield, you can see the hope die within the eyes of the Samnites before you as many drop their weapons and turn to flee.

It is at this moment that Atellus lets you loose.

"Tercerus, round up the rest, " is the simple order given to you as he dispatches you and a detachment of legionnaires to gather up the remaining Samnites.

"Acknowledged. You heard the Tribune, follow me," you bellow as you have the legionnaires with you march double time to catch up to the fleeing Samnites.

As your detachment rumbles through the streets, you make sure to detach groups here and there in order to secure certain sections of city and to make good on your order. Wailing women and children are dragged back towards the assembly area which Atellus has formed to reorganize the cohort. Along the way you can see that the looting has already begun as you pass more than a few legionnaires with bags full of plundered silver, gold, and other trinkets.

It is as you are heading northwards however, that your speed pays off for you see a familiar figure in the distance. Leading a caravan of horses and mules, whose saddlebags appeared to be loaded with loot is none other than Spurio the would-be traitor. Around him are perhaps a dozen men, some of them resemble the men who he had led before Atellus to parley, the others seemed to be ordinary Samnites. But that is no matter to you, what is, is the look he seems to get within his eyes, one of panic as he sees you and the men behind you rush up the street. In haste he tries to order his men to quicken their advance, however all of that ill-gotten treasure he has on him has slowed him down enough for you to catch him.

"Pila!" you below out, causing the men beside you to grab onto the javelins they carry with them, all while preparing to throw them.

"Loose!" you order again, and watch as the dozen or so projectiles fly through the air and impact the men and beast before you.

The group before you collapses into disorder as more than half of their number now find themselves impaled upon the thrown pila, their lifeblood dripping out of them. Luckily for you, one of the thrown pila managed to hit the horse carrying Spurio who is now partially trapped under it. As the rest of the legionnaires with you cut through the men before you, you on the other hand approach Spurio who is cursing up a storm.

"Shit! Fuck! Damn it!" cries the infamous bandit as he nurses his likely broken leg, turning about as soon as he sees you coming, with sword drawn.

"S-servant! I see you've found me...no hard feelings right? A man's got to make coin after all," comes the pathetic reply from Spurio as you continue to advance towards him.

"Come now don't be like that," he says as he tries to back away from you, something that causes you savor the fear he has in his eyes.

"Wait! W-wait! Don't kill me...please, j-just take this, all of this, just spare me," he says with tears coming to his eyes as he begins to crack, shoving the bags full of plunder towards you, something you ignore as you silently step over them and get closer and closer to him.

"Hmph, where was all the bravado you had before traitor? Did you not say you would take the gold from our corpses after this battle? How pathetic," you say as you spit on the ground beside him.

"P-please, I was only doing what only sane man would do, honest. J-just spare me and I'll make everything up for you,'' he promises to you in desperation.

"And what could you possibly offer to us?" you ask with a dismissive tone.

"I...I know things...about the Samnites. I'm sure your master would love to hear about them. Spare me and I'll tell him everything!" he says with increased intensity, eyeing your gladius in fear.

"Hah! Do you honestly think I'll fall for that one. No one would trust you, a known turncoat, after what you'd attempted to do at the parley. No, I will not spare you, I think you've lived long enough," you say as you plant a boot on his chest and stomp him into the ground causing him to let loose an explosive breath.

"W-wait...you have to...urgh...grrrrh," comes the last words of Spurio as you bury your gladius into his ribcage, making sure to twist a little before extricating your blade.

Watching for a moment as the light dims from his eyes and the blood finishes exiting his mouth, you take a moment before you decapitate him in one swift blow. You'd think Atellus would like this one's head mounted on a pike, especially after the utterly despicable attempt at extortion earlier.

Soon enough you are organizing the men around you, who have taken great pleasure in grabbing the saddlebags filled with gold, and then you set off back to Atellus.


Marching alongside Atellus, you feel a familiar pride well up in your chest as you and cohort he commanded are greeted with cheers and adulation as you enter the camp of the Sixth Legion. As the column treks up the via praetoria, as you are at its head with Atellus you immediately spot the visage of Sertorius as he awaits your charge in front of the Principia.

Watching the exchange that occurs between them, you cannot help but make comparisons to a different Cingulatus. In your minds eye you find yourself transposing Atellus' father in his place. Instead of the fields of Samnium you find yourself back in the hills of Hispania once again. Sertorius is once again before you commending a Cingulatus, but before you find yourself too drawn into memories of the past you return. You watch as Atellus displays and presents the treasured mural to Sertorius in a flair for dramatics that was totally unlike his father. For as much as Atellus was his father's son, you could see at this moment, as does Sertorius, that he is more than that, and for that you are grateful.

(Around 2800 words)

 

[Panory]

As a Traitor Deserves​

Spurio grabs an amphora of wine from a nearby slave and takes a deep drink before wiping his mouth and shrugging noncommittally. "Doesn't matter to me. Roman coin is Roman coin, whether I take it from your corpses after the battle or not."

Time seems to slow for an instant as you run through myriad possibilities from how best to use Spurio and his men should you accept the offer to whether killing him now would do irreparable damage to your reputation going forward. Unfortunately, it probably would. Just as you notice Spurio begin to grow tired of waiting, your mind stumbles upon an idea that you like very much.

"Do you have the brains to pay up, or is your puny mind trying to understand my offer?" taunts Spurio. Tercerus reaches for his sword, but you stop him with an outstretched arm. You've concocted a fitting plan for this worm, but you'd have stopped him anyways; seeing this worm dead on anyone's blade save your own would be wholly unsatisfying.

"I was merely thinking of how best to use you and your men. It would be a waste of money to have you join us in the charge or simply leave the city when we attack." you explain, letting the insult roll off you like water. "Now, if you were to leave a gate open and help my legion subdue the city once we're inside… now that may be worth the price you ask."

"Sir, you cannot seriously be considering-" you cut Tercerus off with a raised hand.

"Tercerus, I am in command." you remind him with a tone that brooks no argument. "Sertorius trusts my judgement. You will as well."

"Haha! You'd best listen to your Master, dog!" laughs Spurio. He seems to wish for death rather than a successful negotiation. Tercerus manages to control himself though, as Spurio turns back to addressing you. "We can swing a gate swung open, and we'll follow your legion's lead once you lot are inside. Now then, that'll be ten talents."

Now it is your turn to laugh. "I may be no Sertorius, but I promise you I am no dullard. You'll have your money as soon as I stand at the top of Aeclanum, not a moment sooner." Spurio opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. "I'm not about to entrust half my treasury to a man whom, by virtue of accepting the money, has proven himself a traitor."

Spurio actually laughs at that, and it seems humored, in contrast to his usual mocking bark. "I suppose I can't fault your logic there, Roman. But I can't just be taking you at your word either. Looks like we have ourselves a stalemate. Either pay up, or you'll find yourself on the wrong end of our blades come tomorrow."

"Hardly a stalemate. Thirty pieces of silver is Rome's base rate for this scenario." You toss a small purse to Spurio, and the coins inside clink together tantalizingly as he catches it. "I trust that's a suitable down payment?"

Spurio looks inside the purse, and you see his eyes light up at the sight of silver. He looks back up to you, and greed is replaced by suspicion. "And I'll get the ten talents once you have Aeclanum?" he asked warily.

"On my honor as a citizen of Rome, you will be paid as your deeds deserve." you say solemnly. "But know this. If you renege on your end of our arrangement, I will take those silver pieces back from your corpse."

"Tomorrow night the gate will open for your legion. Don't blame me if you ain't there to walk through though." Spurio turns to leave, waving his men to follow him as he counts the coins.

"Are you actually going to pay that scum?" asks Tercerus, finally trusting himself to speak now that Spurio has left.

"I shall reward him as a traitor deserves." you say, the savage grin on your face both shocking and relieving Tercerus. He laughs quietly all the way back to camp.

XXX​

Spurio may be a greedy rat of a traitor, but he's a rat who knows how to open gates. With the walls of Aeclanum rendered worthless and the help of Spurio's men, you have taken the city in time to watch the sun rise. The public forum of Aeclanum pales in comparison to Rome's, but you decide that it is a fitting location to command the takeover of the city from.

"One Aeclanum delivered right into your hands. Now how about you deliver those talents into mine?" You are glad you dismissed the idea of exposing Spurio's treachery and then leaving him to the tender mercies of the Samnites. The man is practically flaunting it to the handful of captured citizens you have in the forum as he walks past with his bandits following behind.

"The day is won." You begin, putting on your orator voice and projecting it so that everyone in the forum turns to look at you. "As is Roman custom, it is the time to grant honors. And who could be more deserving than the man who singlehandedly swung wide the gates?"

Spurio is clearly enjoying the show, even as the captured Samnites spit at him and curse his name. "Oh, and I assume that would be me?" he asks rhetorically, as much to play along as to taunt the people wishing death upon him.

"Indeed. Come forward Spurio and be honored." You extend a hand making clear that Spurio is to clasp it to seal your little deal. It's hardly the customary way of granting honors, but you doubt Spurio knows or cares as he approaches and slaps his palm to yours. The instant the two of you touch, you yank Spurio close. "Honored as a traitor deserves."

You're still using your orator voice so that everyone can hear you, and Spurio would no doubt complain about you hurting his ears if he weren't more preoccupied with the dagger embedded between his ribs. His bandits take a second to realize what's happened, but your legion reacted the moment you gave the signal. To call it a battle would be disingenuous. Slaughter was more accurate. Not a single man from the legion died, and only a handful were even wounded.

Tercerus spat on Spurio's corpse. "I only wish I could have done it myself." he muses. "Your orders?"

You give your orders loudly, to save time repeating it to the captives, at least those present. "They may either swear sacramentum to Rome and die on their feet." You notice some Samnite faces drain of their color, while others harden into terrified defiance. You sigh softly at that. "Any man who refuses to join Rome will be joined by his family." A good number of the defiant faces break at that news.

Tercerus nods in understanding. "I will convey your orders."

You watch as he runs off to tell the other officers what they are to do, letting you get back to deciding on spoils. You seem to recall seeing a rather beautiful mural when you first clearing out the governor's estate. It might make a good gift for Sertorius, as recompense for stretching the bounds of your orders.

Struck by a bolt of remembrance, you squat down. "I'll be making good on my promise." you say to a dead man as you pocket thirty silver pieces.



AN: I wanted to write this little what-if back when the choice of how to deal with Spurio first popped up, but I had like, five essays due that week, so it got postponed until now.

 

[Basarin]

Let's see if I can take a shot at a quick history-style write-up. (Admittedly I'm just happy to see the small novel that is Cicero's correspondences)

Spoiler: Life in the Roman Legions

It is all too easy to think of the Roman legion strictly in the terms of a fighting force. All too often, historians from - ironically enough - Tacitus to Hans Delbrück focus almost exclusively on the great battles that served as pivot points. From the last stand at Thermopylae, to the burning fleets of Red Cliffs in the Three Kingdoms of China, armies are more often than not faceless, amorphous entities who serve as extensions of the will of their kings and generals. In the high stakes games of statesmanship, only the leaders, their motives, and their constraints are accorded any note.

Recent histories have seen a shift in focus towards those same masses of men. What was life like as a Roman legionnaire? Was life that much different as a Soldier of Rome as opposed to that of the United States or the Soviet Union? What sort of daily pressures and concerns might such a man of one of history's greatest armies have worried himself over?

Some of the answers have been found in one of the most surprising and unlikely sources: Cicero's letters. Though many of his letters have been recovered and recorded for posterity, a recent set of correspondences detail a long running series of discussions with one of Cicero's contemporaries and possible friends.

Quintus Cingulatus Atellus, fellow student of Quintus Mucius Scaevola and also a practitioner of law by trade, was serving as an elected military tribune on campaign against the Samnites in approximately the early to mid 80s BCE. Assigned to Legio VI Gradivius, he served in a function not too dissimilar to that of an executive officer in a modern military capacity. That is to say, he served effectively as the second in command to Quintus Sertorius, the commander of the Sixth Legion. While history has spilled much ink about Rome's final battle with the Samnites - to say nothing of the great battle of wills between the titans of their day, Sulla and Marius, that almost overshadowed it - one of the newly discovered letters between Atellus and Cicero shine a surprising light on the daily routines of a Roman legion camp.

Atellus describes in great detail the many, many problems of an army that never completely goes away. All of said problems are also somehow your problem to diffuse. From issues of pay not reaching the common legionnaire, to complaints of the lack of competency of his fellow tribunes (with one exception), Atellus sheds light on the daily workings of the Sixth Legion as it campaigned to pacify the Samnites. Much of his writing, while in a very straightforward manner, can be almost tongue-in-cheek. In many instances, the tribune writes as if he had accepted that life was going to throw surprises and problems at him no matter what he did, and he was simply making the best of them.

Two instances in his letters are particularly interesting. The first is, in hindsight, one of history's earliest cases of military law. Putting his time as a lawyer to good use, Atellus described an instance where he was forced to balance the competing parties of accused murder. A legionnaire, Caius Castus, had been accused of murdering a member of the equites. The political complexities of Roman society had every right to rear its head, as the Soldiers of the Legion were drawn from the commoners of Rome, while the equites were of Atellus' social strata as optimates.

Atellus wrote that, while daunting, he had to approach this case like he would back in Rome: with the audience of the Forum in mind. "Imagine, if you would," Atellus wrote to Cicero, "that you were to prosecute the greatest man in Rome; that a third of the Forum attending were for the defense, a third for the prosecution, and a third to heckle everyone and anyone. Imagine that your name will immediately reach all of Rome, from Spain to Macedon, in but the moment required to draw breath. Now imagine the men watching you all have swords, and the training and wherewithal to use them on each other, if not necessarily on you." It is to Atellus' great credit that he was able to present a verdict that, while not loved, was respected by both parties as the firm law of the Legion. While the murderer was executed, the equites were found guilty of instigating the conflict, and were compelled to provide the expenses for funerary rights.

Another instance of camp life can be seen in the daily concerns of the common soldier. Atellus made a point of listening, if not necessarily taking action on, the many, many complaints legionnaires presented to their commanders when given the choice. Many of these concerns are rather mundane. Complaints included that of poor equipment, poorer food, the actions of a fellow legionnaire that were unlawful. "They must think us [myself and Servicus Sulpicus Rufus, fellow Tribune] to be the gods," Atellus complained to Cicero, "As if we were Jupiter, and were to but wave our hands and make all right again. Were it only so!" Yet he admitted that for all the 'petty complaints,' there were many instances when he actually saw problems of leadership and friction between personnel that threatened the cohesion of the Sixth Legion, and took immediate steps to stop them. "We can ill afford to be competitors for the consulship when the Samnites threaten Rome."

As unlikely a primary source as it is, Atellus' discussions with Cicero are fascinating, and are highly suggested to any who are interested in this often overlooked part of history. Were it not for the momentous events that were to literally shape the course of the classical world in the following decades, the conquest of Samnium - and the daily lives and squabbles of the men who made it possible - would certainly rank higher in the interests of historians everywhere.

- Victor Gilliam
"Life of the Sixth Legion," Triumphs of Rome

 

[Telamon]

So I've been a bit busy this week dealing with projects and finals approaching near the end of the school year, but the update should hit tonight. I'm currently traveling right now, and on my phone, but I've whipped up a character sheet for my favorite non-Roman of antiquity who isn't a dead philosopher — Alexander of Macedon, better known as Alexander the Great.

Auguries and Foretellings

The Greatest of the Greeks [LEGENDARY]: Across Greece, the Sibyls screamed when you were born. The Pythia, the greatest of the Oracles, wept tears of blood and gave virgin birth to snakes. Lightning thundered atop Olympus for twelve nights, and in Egypt, lions walked in the streets and the Pharoahs wailed in their tombs. 'He is come', they howled in their pyramids, 'the sun is come, Amun-In-Flesh, and a thousand nations shall know his name.' They say the Pythia spoke a final prophecy before her heart burst: that the whole of Earth would bow to Greece, if but for a single hour.

The Maharaja's Curse [EPIC]: In India, you met a mighty Maharaja, a man who professed to be as you are, a King of Kings. You destroyed his army, burned his cities, and put his bloodline to the sword. With his final breath, he laid upon you a curse, black and bitter, that fouled the air as he spoke it: that you might die feeble and ailing, that your arm which had conquered the nations might not even lift a sword in your final hour, and that your empire and your bloodline would join him in death ere thirty years had spanned.

Social Status

Name: Alexandros III Argead
Age: 32 (Born 356 B.C)
Family: The House of Argead
Class: Noble
Profession: Conqueror
Patron(s): None
Clients: Ptolemy, Cassander, Seleucus, Antigonus
Children: N/A
Dominion: Macedon, Persia, Egypt, Asia, and Greece
Reputation: (Rank 25) The Greatest -- You are a man beyond myth, beyond legend. Your fame will transcend eras and ages, cultures and centuries. The best and brightest men of after times will strive to be but pale imitations of thee. Your name will echo for a thousand years. Truly, the Greatest of All.

Economic Status

Wealth: 12000 talents
Monthly Income: 12 talents
Buildings Owned: The Palace of Xerxes (1000 talents), the Palace of the Argeads (600 talents), the Palace at Alexandria (1200)
Land Held: 1.400 acres (net worth: 3000 talents)
Slaves Owned: 5032
Debts Owed: 0
Debts Held: 19

Titles and Honors

Name Meaning: Alexandros (lit. Defender-of-the-Greeks)
Nicknames and Titles: The Third of His Name, Ho Megas (lit. The Great), Basileius (lit. King) the Shah of Shahs, the Hegemon, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lord of Asia and King of Kings.
Honors and Decorations: The Great, The King of Kings, the son of Zeus-Ammon, Hrw mk Knut (lit. Great-protector-of-Egypt-who-tramples-the-nations), Horus-The-God-Who-Is-Called-Alexander, the Ruler of Rulers and First-Among-Kings.
Offices Held: Shah, King, Basileius, Pharaoh
Celebrations Held: 29
Campaigns Led: 1

Stats

Military: Mythical (20) -- You are Alexander. To you, War is not just an art, it is your life, the blood in your veins. To see the shattered foe reeling, to smell the nations burning — can there be any greater joy?
Charisma: Epic (17) -- You are persuasive, magnetic. Your golden hair and fair eyes conquer as many hearts as your sword.
Stewardship: Poor (4) -- Coin. What is this to one who rules all nations? When you hold the world in your grasp, gold is as dust.
Intelligence: Renowned (16) -- Your mind is among your finest weapons. Cities thought impregnable fall before your schemes, armies thought undefeatable crumble before your stratagems.
Education: Accomplished (14) -- You learned at the feet of the wise, from the mightiest scholars of Greece. You were tutored by men whose words would last as long as your own legend. You do not know everything — but you know enough.
Subterfuge: Poor (4) -- You do your finest work in the light of day. Trickery and deception do not come easy to you off the battlefield.

Skills

Combat: Mythical (20) -- You are Alexander. Your blade is as part of your flesh, your shield woven to your arm, your spear bound to your fist. To face you in battle is to invite death.
Oratory: Average (8) -- You are no Plato, and you would not strive to be. Your wit, your strength — these are what matters.
Command: Mythical (20) -- Your are Alexander. King. Conqueror. God. Your armies would follow you to the very ends of Earth. They have.
Engineering: Legendary (19) -- The Earth itself is no obstacle to Alexander. The hills, the mountains, the rivers and the seas — what are these to thee, who masters the nations?
Siegecraft: Epic (18) — Before you topple the walls of the world.
Logistics: Very Poor (2) — Let others feed the armies. Your duty is to lead them to glory upon glory, and lesser men be damned.
Law: Poor (3) -- Laws are words on paper, idle things made by idle men. You are Alexander, and no words may hold you.
Philosophy: Renowned (15): You have learned under the Brahmins of India and the sorcerers of Persia, studied under the philosophers of Greece and the wise men of Asia.
Administration: Average (9): You are a man of the here and now. And now, here, in this place, you are master of the nations. What follows after is none of your concern.
Diplomacy: Average (8): Diplomacy? Words in air, voices in the wind. The only true strength is domination, the only peace, subjugation.

Auguries and Foretellings

The Greatest of the Greeks [LEGENDARY]: Across Greece, the Sibyls screamed when you were born. The Pythia, the greatest of the Oracles, wept tears of blood and gave virgin birth to snakes. Lightning thundered atop Olympus for twelve nights, and in Egypt, lions walked in the streets and the Pharoahs wailed in their tombs. 'He is come', they howled in their pyramids, 'the sun is come, Amun-In-Flesh, and a thousand nations shall know his name.' They say the Pythia spoke a final prophecy before her heart burst: that the whole of Earth would bow to Greece, if but for a single hour.

The Maharaja's Curse [EPIC]: In India, you met a mighty Maharaja, a man who professed to be as you are, a King of Kings. You destroyed his army, burned his cities, and put his bloodline to the sword. With his final breath, he laid upon you a curse, black and bitter, that fouled the air as he spoke it: that you might die feeble and ailing, that your arm which had conquered the nations might not even lift a sword in your final hour, and that your empire and your bloodline would join him in death ere thirty years had spanned.

Social Status

Name: Alexandros III Argead
Age: 32 (Born 356 B.C)
Family: The House of Argead
Class: Noble
Profession: Conqueror
Patron(s): None
Clients: Ptolemy, Cassander, Seleucus, Antigonus
Children: N/A
Dominion: Macedon, Persia, Egypt, Asia, and Greece
Reputation: (Rank 25) The Greatest -- You are a man beyond myth, beyond legend. Your fame will transcend eras and ages, cultures and centuries. The best and brightest men of after times will strive to be but pale imitations of thee. Your name will echo for a thousand years. Truly, the Greatest of All.

Special Traits:

Enemy of the Persians (Rank 4): You are the archenemy of the Iranian, the bane of Zoroaster and the vengeance of the Greeks. The Persians detest thee and fear thee, for you have ended the empire of a thousand lifetimes, destroyed that which was never to be destroyed. (+4 against Persian armies, -4 to diplomatic relations with Persians)

Unique Trait:

Ho Megas: You are Alexander. Your armies have marched from one end of the world to the next. From the waters of the Hellespont to the rivers of the Indus, men know your name and tremble. In a thousand tongues, they call you Great. In a thousand tongues they praise your name. You are the mightiest military commander in a hundred generations, a conqueror to shame Xerxes and Gilgamesh. The winged goddess of victory herself bows at your feet in awe. Truly, there will never be another like you. (+3 to all military actions, +4 to all diplomacy/intimidation actions, +5 Reputation, +1 to all governance actions)

 

[Basarin]

Alright, let's take another stab at the writing.

Spoiler: Historiography of the Fourth Samnite War, Selected Reading

Spoiler: Excerpt from Plutarch, "Life of Sertorius"

"...and as Sertorius sought to quell the Hirpini, he knew he could not pacify all of Samnium at once, for he was but one man, and commanded but one legion. To carry out his will in Pentri, he dispatched his most able Tribune, Quintus Cingulatus Atellus, with the Sixth and Ninth Cohorts of his legion.

Atellus marched to the land of the Pentri to rally support to Rome. He was successful in his duties, but was harried by Gemino of the Pentri, the fiercest Samnite foe who despised Roman rule. Gemino attacked both Roman and proclaimed friends of Rome, desiring to continue defying Roman power. Atellus, seeking to curry favor from Bovianum and its surrounding lands, brought wagons of grain to feed the Samnites from Aquilonia. Gemino, wishing to punish all friends of Rome in his homeland, laid waste to much of the grain, driving many of his people closer to Atellus.

Atellus, wishing the favor of not only Aquilonia and Bovianum but the assembly of greats in Pentri, addressed to them of the Sword and the Open Hand of Rome. The most implacable of Samnium were swayed by his words, for his promises of protection from starvation, the safety of roads, and vengeance for crimes raised against them, were most convincing.

Atellus wrote to Sertorius of his success, who received word and found his success to be of good fortune. Wishing to put an end to those who would not kneel, he bade Atellus to bring, with all haste, his cohorts to Nola..."

Spoiler: Of Hearts and Minds: Case Studies

Successes and Setbacks - The Fourth Samnite War, SPQR

"...and it is doubly important to ensure that one's actions and goals are clear and do not conflict with each other. It is all too common for leaders to simply say, 'this must be done,' and assume the goal will eventually materialize. More often than not, it is then left to the commanders on the ground to determine how it must be done, perhaps with resources insufficient for the task...

...an interesting example can be found in the Classical World. The Fourth Samnite War, fought between the Roman Republic and the final defiant elements of Samnium who refused to acknowledge Roman rule, was fraught with mistakes and counterproductive missteps on both sides of the conflict. Even without modern telecommunications, public perception and propaganda had their parts to play in the ancient world. Though it is possible to recover from mistakes in public relations, it is not common.

This makes the actions of a Roman officer, Quintus Cingulatus Atellus, all the more remarkable.

Atellus served as a Tribune of Quintus Sertorius, commander of the Sixth Legion. Known for his competence and ambition, Atellus was often sent by his commander to resolve particularly troublesome issues, whether they were in the camp of the legion itself or cities that needed to be pacified. Atellus was also well regarded by the men of the legion, and had a reputation for harsh but fair treatment. Yet, he was still human, and did make mistakes as often as he succeeded.

One mistake pointed out by historians was the destruction of the twin towns of Aeclanum and Aequum Tuticum. While the destruction and pacification of these towns were a military success, this success would come to hamper Atellus' efforts in the future. For reasons unknown to modern history, Atellus spared the life of a priestess of a local religion. This priestess would become a small rallying point of resistance among the Samnite people, and specifically named Atellus as an enemy of Samnium. This reputation would cling to Atellus, even as he and Sertorius attempted to incorporate Samnium into the Roman Republic.

Yet it is also to Atellus' great credit that he could, in some instances, overcome this negative reputation in accomplishing his tasks as assigned by Sertorius. The commander of the legion would give Atellus half of his men to pacify the region of Pentri. Surviving accounts credit Atellus for successfully establishing a basic level of Roman law despite repeated attacks by Gemino, a man whose own campaigns against the Sixth Legion are held as a case study of asymmetric warfare. Atellus is perhaps more famously known for what was proclaimed as a brilliant piece of public relations and rhetoric, sometimes labeled by modern history as the "Sword and Hand" speech. What survives of the speech only survives in pieces, but it was apparently strong enough to sway a famous stronghold of anti-Roman sentiment to throw their support towards Atellus. As he was the highest local representative of Roman law, in turn Atellus gained some amount of fame for turning the homeland of his nemesis, Gemino of the Pentri, against him.

The irony was not lost on Gemino as his final encounter with Atellus drew closer..."

Not sure how well the first piece comes across. As it turns out, emulating an ancient historian's writing style is hard. Who knew?

 

[Die Forelle]

Omake: Fragments from Atellus' Speech to the gathered elders of the Pentri

[...]

I have seen the hills and valleys of this land, its cities and villages, and everywhere there is desolation. Fallow are your fields, pillaged by criminals and men who care nothing for you and yours. The roads are abandoned, for to travel far from the already broken walls of your cities and towns is to court assault and rape and death. The few men I have seen in the villages are old, and the women all seem at the edge of grief; where now are your sons, your nephews, your grandsons? Dead of starvation, if not seduced by the empty promises of bandit chieftains who have made you all starve.

[...]

Rome has two hands, sons of Samnium. One holds a sword, the other lies open. Choose her sword hand, and she will end the Samnites, as surely as the coming of dawn. But hold her open hand and she will take up a shield to protect you and yours.

[...]

As a son of Rome I come to bring peace and justice. Rome shall not let you starve, so it will not touch your crops for the next year, nor the men needed to harvest them. We have seen the desolation of your land, and so we shall aid you in rebuilding it. And as for your rivals, they have chosen the sword hand. They will know it well in the days to come.

---

IDK. First time I've written an Omake.