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*Apologies for the poor quality, but at least it's a story- JM*

=== Alexandria, Aegyptus; Decembris 136 AD ===

“Your devotion is misplaced,” Lucius Titus Vitellius stated to Strategos Kleon. The two men were standing in a darkened sauna within a Roman-style bathhouse. Both men were naked. Titus sitting on a bench with his legs spread and back against the hot, moist wall while Kleon was a few feet from him, directly before, with a towel wrapped around his head and sitting the same. Steam filled the air and muddled visibility, but neither man was there for pleasure of the carnal kind. “I suggest again that we strike against the son of Theophanese and be rid of the line altogether.”

Speaking through the towel, his words rather distorted, Kleon said, “The people would not like that at all. The royal family are revered--”

“They are imposters,” Titus laughed, squinting through the steam at Kleon. Water and sweat ran like little rivers down the Strategos’ tanned, rigid body. The steam made the same happen to every surface, flesh, stone and wood alike. Titus looked from Kleon’s younger form to his own, noting the many specific creases that showed the age of his skin. Wrinkles where none had been five years before, ten years and even thirty years before. He was old, but still full of vigor. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “A royal family set up by a long-dead Emperor to keep the people placated while Rome took over their nation.”

“Why do you want to disrupt the system that clearly works?” Kleon asked. He reached up and loosened the towel, gasping for a cooler breath than the hot moist breaths he could get from under the mask.

Titus remained against the wall, eyes closed. “Do you ever get tired of following weak-minded leaders, Kleon? Kings who allign themselves with every strong sword that threatens to rock the proverbial boat, shifting sides as power too shifts...?”

“I do,” Kleon admitted.

“Chances are good that the new Pharoah will be just as his father, and his father before him.”

“I agree...” Kleon said, his words more clear now that the towel was removed from his mouth. His eyes, ears and the rest of his head were still wrapped. He reached down and scratched the inside of his left leg, moving it out farther to unstick his scrotum from his thigh, letting his genitals hang loosely. “If Rome is in control though--”

“If Rome is in control, then Rome has nothing to worry about from the people of Aegyptus.” Titus was sure of the idea. Rid the empire of the unstable loyalty of the Pharoahs and rule Aegyptus outright. He slipped suddenly on his seat, grunting in suprise and catching himself by gripped the edge of the bench. He smiled at the simple event and changed position, laying flat on the bench, his left leg hanging off with his toes touching the floor and his right leg bent at the knee on the bench. He crossed his arms above him, resting his sweaty head in his hands and looked at the ceiling. “You would remain as you are, in command of Aegyptian forces. The only change would be no more Pharoahs.”

“I am worried, still.” Kleon said. He spoke as he unwrapped the towel from his head. The air hitting his face from outside the towel felt cool in comparison. His words were gruff. “Rome has a treaty with these people. Why not renegotiate it? Keep the sovereign for the masses to admire.”

“The treaty is as far reaching as it can be, except for Roman forces not being allowed in Thebais...” Titus rattled on. “Eliminating the royal family as official heads of state with powers altogether is the next best step... and to do that through the Senate, would likely spark unrest here- and likely war with the new Pharoah. You know that.”

“I do,” Kleon sighed. “I still don’t like it.”

“Well we’re naked in a small, hot, dark room.” Titus jested, “There is little we can do about it right now anyway.”

“Argh,” Kleon moaned, evidently through the tone with an uncomfortable smile. He laid down the same as Titus and stared up. “The army will not like it. They will not tolerate Rome murdering their rightful King. I would not, in fact, tolerate that.”

“Rome wouldn’t do that.” Titus said. “You would.”

As soon as Titus said that, silence filled the room. The sound of steam and creaking from the steamworks seemed excessively loud as Titus waited for Kleon to respond. The Aegyptian commander laid still on the bench, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes noted cracks and imperfections in the stone as he thought, finding reason not to look on Titus. His thoughts were thorough and paced, as always, so he didn’t come to any premature decisions. ‘Killing the next Pharoah would mean so much trouble,’ he thought. ‘Killing the son of the Pharoah before he is crowned would be harder, but...’ Kleon stopped thinking to himself and rolled onto his side to face Titus. “I have no particular allegiance to the would be new Pharoah; I am a defender of the Aegyptian people, but from Alexandria I cannot be expected to worry of the next Pharoah while he is so far South.”

“Of course,” Titus agreed, pulling his right hand out from under his head and using it to visually enunciate his words. “If Theophanese’ son were to die before he was crowned, then he would die a man- not the god-king that the usual Pharoah’s coronation would make him.”

“Just speaking of this is treachery,” Kleon exhaled, doubt coming over him quickly. He kept looking at Titus, seeing the man as just a man. Without armor and decoration Titus was simply a tall, thin and aged man, and seeing how feeble Titus would appear in any other situation were he not a Roman General, but still healthy and strong in his ambition reasserted some confidence in Kleon. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of murdering the Crown Prince, but he had the seed of doubt planted by Titus and there was no plucking that weed.

“We are both men of authority and means,” Titus stated matter-of-factly. He didn’t smile, and his tone was flat. “Anything can be done should we want it.”

Kleon thought upon Titus’s words for a moment, remembering slowly a murder of a respected Romano-Aegyptian officer and connecting it to when he informed Titus of where the particular man lived; Titus’s words helped the pieces fit together, and Kleon was alarmed. He rolled away from Titus and looked at the ceiling again. His mind was falling back into line with his duties, and his humor was going fast. “I would not allow you to see the end of the Pharoah’s line on your own, General,” Kleon said firmly.

“Without your support the idea is fruitless, of course.” Titus said, feeling a small wave of concern. He watched Kleon through the thick steamy air, and rolled onto his side to face him. “To make such a move now would inevitably cause the rift I aim to avoid. I come to you as a friend, and a leader, with respect for the situation now and what will be. If you refuse the notion of living without a Pharoah, I will not sink to subvert you.”

“It would be war, and at the moment you are without sufficient arms to defend your actions,” Kleon grumbled. He tilted his head enough for his eyes to lock on the softened face of Titus in the steam and looked at his Roman counterpart as best he could. After a moment, he said, “You must think there is more between us to come to me with this plan without the army to defend yourself should I have taken offence.”

“I’ve seen you react to letters from the would-be Pharoah,” Titus blurted quickly. He propped his head on his left hand, locking his elbow to steady himself. He could feel the sweat from his armpit running down the underside of his arm. “I’ve heard you complain. I know soldiers, and I know enough of politics. I made a gamble.”

“You did,” Kleon muttered, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “and it is a winning gamble.”

Although Kleon couldn’t see it, Titus smiled. Titus sighed and rolled onto his back again, and groaned in comfort while he stretched his arms and legs. Kleon sat up and then stood up. Titus sat up too, and leaned forward while gripping the edge of the bench with his hands. He looked up at Kleon, seeing the soldierly form appear larger within the steam, and said, “It is always better to gamble with a friend.”

=== Ephesus, Pergamum; Decembris ===

The air was warm blowing through the wide corridors of the citadel atop Mount Pion. The brightest of the morning light flooded through openings in the walls, and the noise from the city below came with it. Inside the main hallway of the citadel stood Lucius Cassius Vitellius, Proconsul of Greco-Macedonia. His arms were crossed over his chest tightly; he looked uncomfortable standing alone in the passageway. His colorful outfit did little to mask his emotional state, so when the Pergamese Strategos finally marched down the passageway toward Cassius, he didn’t waste time with smiles or general greetings.

Cassius turned to him immediately once the man was close enough and whispered loudly, “Why isn’t he dead yet?”

“He is not dead because he hasn’t died,” Aniketos stated bluntly. He crossed his arms as well, and stared intently into Cassius’s eyes. The two had met a handful of times during Cassius’s stay within the city, each time further plotting for change. Aniketos looked over his shoulder as Cassius did the same, both hearing footsteps that shouldn’t be there. It was nobody. “Your impatience isn’t helping, Proconsul.”

“We’ve set everything up for you to make this as easy as possible!” Cassius hissed. His face contorted into a vicious wrinkle, evil in design. It remained so for a few moments after his words faded, staring daringly upon Aniketos. The Strategos said nothing, but cooly returned the gaze. The silence fell around them and left only the comfortable, constant breeze that blew up from the city below, bringing aromas and sound to the solid, formidable walls of the citadel. Before Cassius relaxed, he said, “Before tardiness raises suspicion, Strategos.”

Once news arrived that the Eastern Roman Empire had fallen, and the Ptolemies too, Cassius met with Strategos Aniketos privately. He knew that the Pergamese army wasn’t generally keen on war- they were a largely defensive force on land, and a policing force on the seas- but without determined enemies on their doorstep, that role could easily change. After meeting with Aniketos the first time Cassius learned that he wished to see the Pergamese army in a greater role than it had been, to perhaps share in the growing glory of taking the rest of Asia Minor- a fact that Cassius was keen to share with the Strategos after he met with Magister Militum Sabaco about invading Phrygia weeks prior. All that stood in the way of Aniketos leading the Pergamese soldiers to war was Attalus III Eumenes. Once the King was dead, the kingdom would fall to Rome- and for the time being to Lucius Cassius Vitellius.

“He is a beloved figurehead, he cannot just be smothered.” Aniketos whispered strongly, leaning in slightly. He looked away toward a window in the wall to their left. A bird flew by, breaking the beam of sunlight that poured through. Aniketos’ face was still smooth for his age, giving him a look of a much younger man. His eyes however, and the few wrinkles that were huddled just under the lower lid, were much wiser looking, and showed his age if someone looked close enough. He continued, trying not to despise the aged Roman statesman before him as he explained his hesitation to send his beloved King to the afterworld. “The people adore him. There will be mass mourning, celebrations of his life, a sadness felt throughout the kingdom. It wouldn’t bode well to see him through to the other side, then to declare war. I am a soldier who wishes to fight- but a citizen of the Attalids first.”

Cassius sighed, undersanding what he meant. He couldn’t help the sneer that flittered across his face though, so he quickly spoke to make up for it. “Only we know of this. Only we have designs on his life- and I shouldn’t need to tell you again that it isn’t with malice or lack of respect that I wish to see his reign come to an end. His son will step up and facilitate the transfer to Roman rule, and act as the new beloved leader of your people; I will see it happens that way. His son too will partake in the peaceful transfer of authority, easily because his marriage to my niece was the bond of blood. Only if his illness drags on too long will any suspicion come about; Everyone here adores him too much to assume his death was manipulated.”

Another silence came to surround them as Aniketos thought. Cassius smiled quickly and uncrossed his arms, pacing away from Aniketos toward the window nearest them both. He gazed through it down onto the city. It’s white buildings glowed brightly in the growing morning light as the sun rose to their East, and the path of the sun could be seen spreading out on the sea further on. Cassius inhaled deeply the sea air laced with aromas of markets and city life; He missed Rome. Finally, a few slow moments later, Aniketos said, “I pray he goes naturally. I understand the opportunities of wealth and war with the East once his benevolent yoke is undone, but I will not hasten his passing today. Soon if he doesn’t accept his mortality himself, but not today. I shouldn’t even need to explain my inaction to you.”

Cassius smiled, his back to Aniketos. He watched people below scurry about their morning business, each with a task that needed to be done before the day marched on. His task was defined just then, by Aniketos. With the smile, he turned and said, “That wisdom is why he has placed such trust in you. I have other issues that need tending more quickly than this sundry business of dying, so I will defer to your judgement.” His voice trailed off toward the end, but he kept eye contact with Aniketos.

Aniketos sighed uncomfortably, and turned his head to the side just enough to not break eye contact with Cassius. “Good. Good, I am glad to hear it. You know where to find me if something comes up.”

“I do,” Cassius confirmed with a nod. His smile melted away and he nodded once again, chin up. “I’ll be going then, and see you later.”

Aniketos turned and walked briskly away without another word. The slap of his sandaled feet on the cold hard floor of the hallway echoed as he marched out, giving rythm to Cassius’s thoughts. He stood there watching the loyal Ionian commander get smaller and smaller the further away he went. A feeling inside his gut brought out a feeling of guilt, something Cassius wasn’t too accustomed to. He admired Attalus at the least, but felt strongly that the King had to die sooner rather than later to safeguard the treaty with Rome from men with growing power like Carus Florianus Julianus, who could- with the current Emperor in Rome- undermine the future many were counting on. He thought to himself for a few moments, watching Aniketos reach the exit and then disappear with a sharp turn to his right. Then, without thinking, Cassius turned to his own right and walked the other way. If he was to be alone in the plan, he wouldn’t waste any time.

The next morning Aniketos was woken by his wife, who was frantically shaking him from his slumber with the words ‘Attalus has died’. He jumped from his bed naked, and without thinking threw on a tunic laying nearby and pushed his wife aside to rush out of his chambers. He saw soldiers and servants weeping in corners and doorways as he rushed from one end of the citadel to the other, toward the royal palace nearby. As he ran he collected without intent other soldiers of standing who were directly informed of the Kings passing, and they rushed together toward the palace. Thoughts raced through Aniketos’ head as he went, panting in rythm. ‘Dead? It was inevitable, but now? Was Cassius involved?’ He didn’t spend too much time thinking of the how, sure as the others running with him that it was just the sickness that had been eating away at the King’s health for weeks now.

The reached the King’s chambers soon enough and found the doors wide open, slaves, aides and family standing both in and out of the room, weeping and sobbing quietly. Aniketos stood in the center of the doorway and looked upon the bed of the King, nearly encircled by the sons and grandson of the King, his wife and other inlaws- and Lucius Cassius Vitellius. The Procosul looked up from watching the King’s dead face and locked eyes with Aniketos, and he gave a slight flicker of a smile. Aniketos was almost felled by what that faint flicker meant: Cassius had pulled it off; The Proconsul from Rome had forced the bequeathment of the Pergamese Kingdom by murdering the King. Nobody else knew that, so Aniketos’ expression was mistaken for shock of grief and he was touched by those nearby tenderly and with compassion. Everyone knew that he adored the King, and assumed news of his death would be taken difficultly. The fact of the matter was that Aniketos had accepted that Attalus would die any time, the two had spoken often about it in order to plan ahead for when Rome took control... but his reaction there in the room wasn’t for Attalus III Eumenese- it was for Cassius.

Criers were heard moments after Aniketos arrived from all directions, shouting the sad news that the beloved King of the Attalid Dynasty was dead. Aniketos watched from near the door as those family close to Attalus touched and caressed his corpse, which lay peacefuly on his bed. His eyes were closed as was his mouth, with his arms at his side. He looked as if he were asleep, and for that Aniketos was glad. He watched Cassius talk to Attalus’s son, and then step away from the mourning group at the bedside to walk toward the door. Aniketos walked inward to intercept Cassius and pull him aside. Seconds later they met, eyes locked and Aniketos reached out to grab Cassius’s left arm with his own. “What did you do?” He hissed as quietly as possible.

With a strong twist of his shoulder Cassius freed himself from Aniketos without much of a show, and smiled while looking into the dancing pupils of Aniketos’ eyes. “The King’s will needs to be read; I have many things that now need to be seen to. Pay your respects, Strategos. Your job is only going to get busier.”

Aniketos was stunned by the coolness in which Cassius spoke. He only let his eyes linger on the Proconsul for a moment as he continued past him, shocked that it all seemed to be business for Rome. He looked from the empty air to the bed where the King lay, and was rushed to Arista, the King’s widow, who gripped him tight and wept on his shoulder as she pulled him toward the bed. In that moment of grief he forgot about the plan he and Cassius hatched to end the King’s suffering and succumbed to the mood of the entire room, and expressed his grief.

“It was Proconsul Vitellius that found him,” Arista said with a wimper. Aniketos wasn’t surprised.

=== Villa of Postumus Maximinus, Rome; Maius 137 AD ===

“I don’t like it,” Postumus Maximinus said snidely, waving a hand dismissively at his grandson as he turned away. Bassus Maximinus had been called to his grandfather’s study nearly an hour before, and had since been listening to Postumus rant about the current state of the empire- in regards to the Tullians.

“Of course you don’t, Grandfather,” Bassus said, trying his best not to condescend. Himself he was friends with the Tullians, namely Titus Arcadius Vitellius and the younger generation. He knew that his grandfather was one of the older, staunchly-conservative members of the Senate. He also knew that his grandfather wasn’t without a price. Money lenders always had a price. Bassus walked around to find Postumus’s eyes and continued speaking. “I don’t understand what you want from me, specifically. You and your friends in the Senate should have no trouble while Lucius Tacitus and Lucius Cassius are out of Rome.”

Postumus nodded with a smile that Bassus hadn’t seen before. It looked meek and defeatist, but the afterthought was devious and conniving. Bassus looked away briefly to break the uncomfortable look his grandfather was giving him. “Lucius Tacitus and Lucius Cassius work with us, we ‘older’ Senators. Arcadius and the newer optiae do not. They view us as dusty and out of date, ancient.”

“Well you are...” Bassus laughed, hoping to liven his granfather once again. It didn’t work.

“Your father refuses to consider his rightful role I have earned for him; Your Uncle Quiricus too, though at least he has taken the Procurator post of Tripolitania.” Postumus was ranting, but it was clear a point was coming. Bassus had heard his shark of a patriarchal figure lecture other men enough times to know how he worked. “You will run for Aedile next election; Praetor as well. I can buy that for you- do not refuse- but what I need from you is your eyes and ears. If the Tulliae and their followers do not include the likes of myself, or the elder Disii, or the Ispii for that matter,” his voice rose in frustration as he spoke, “then we have no means of information. You spend enough time with Arcadius, the rest of his family and their friends to almost be considered one of them; Watch them for me. Inform me.”

Bassus squinted with confused thought and shook his head slowly, turning to his left and speaking without words. Spy on his friends? He wasn’t even sure how to do it, or if he could. He turned back to Postumus. “I cannot betray their trust like that, Grandfather.”

“Do not look at it like that, Bassus,” Postumus instructed, in a tone that verged on pleading. There was an empasse in Rome at the moment, where the traditional and conservative Senators were without venerate opposition, ideal in all cases, but they still lacked superior numbers. Without the benefit of information, they would remain relegated to mere commentary. Postumus reached out and gripped Bassus’ shoulders tight. He shook lightly and smiled, looking the young man in the eyes. “You see and hear- and experience, no doubt- all that I am interested in knowing. All you’ll be doing is having conversations with your granfather, as casual as normal, where you tell me all you’ve been doing with those I care to know about. Nothing needs to change on your end, Bassus. The change is here, in this house.”

An uncertaintly still lingered in Bassus’ head. He remained still, apparently pliant, not letting his grandfather’s grasp unnerve him at all. “I would be decieving them.”

“You will be having casual conversations with your grandfather,” Postumus said firmly, letting go of Bassus. He looked into Bassus’ eyes and stepped back once, then crossed his arms. “I am not asking you to dig for anything special...”

“...but you wouldn’t mind.” Bassus looked down, and let silence fall around them. He could hear his grandfather breathing through his nose, heavily. It always bothered him, and at this moment it calmed him; ‘Nothing was different about his grandfather during this conversation, so there wasn’t really anything to mistrust,’ Bassus thought to himself, looking at the grouted lines between the floor tiles. A polite cough from Postumus brought Bassus back, and he looked Postumus in the eyes. “I am an honest man, grandfather.”

“I know you are,” Postumus confirmed with a loving grin. It disappeared quickly when he said, “You have that luxury because i’ve spent my life being cunningly unethical. I ask for honest conversation that contains nothing more than details of what you see and hear when in the company of your friends.”

“If I may go now,” Bassus offered, looking sullen but faithful. “Then you will have what you wish.”

Postumus smiled, and moved slowly toward the door. He pulled it open and stepped aside, and as Bassus passed by he patted his grandson on the shoulder. “I will see you later; at supper.”

=== Imperial Palace, Rome; Octobris 137 AD ===


Two weeks after Lucius Tacitus Vitellius was elected Emperor of Rome, he was knee deep in assessing the state of the empire and consolidating his control. Before even gaining the direct authority to do such, he wrote as many legionary commanders he could to assess their forces and their needs, in response to the Senate’s idea of a legionary census. He was holding a series of parties at his family home, the Palatia Magnus Tulliae, to celebrate his coronation in lieu of a single vast public celebration. Each of the commanders written was invited- as were their families- to the parties, so Tacitus could get to know them and they could get to now other notables before being tasked once again. Tacitus was looking forward to organizing the empire’s legions more discriminantly, using his imperium to set in motion events that had long been left idle.


The death of Rimilius Ispius had a profound impact on Tacitius as well. For decades he and his brother Cassius were as brothers with the Ispius brothers Rimilius and Cassius; Rimilius being Tacitus’s associate and Cassius with Cassius. Now it was lopsided, his moderate views shared with Rimilius once held his brother and Cassius Ispius in check, but now he was on the weaker end of ideals despite his new imperial powers. Thankfully his brother Cassius offered to mellow out politically, a gesture Tacitus was surprised by and rewarded by making Cassius Delegatus Principis- the former post of Rimilius Ispius. With his brother Cassius’s help, Tacitus took the time in between writing the legionary commanders and their arrival to reassemble the Concilium Principis and lay out some initial plans and decrees. Often they wished that their other brother, Titus, was there to help... but it was decided in time he could be. There were many other things for a new Emperor to do.


The night of the day that marked two weeks into Tacitus’s reign, he was hosting another party. Hundreds of important citizens, their wives and children mingled throughout the Tullian stronghold while Tacitus maintained solitude within his library. He enjoyed gatherings of family and the occasional random social meeting in a bathhouse with other Senators, but a soiree on this scale very nearly overwhelmed him. He greeted everyone as they arrived, as a good host would, and at the first wane in attendees he fled to his sanctuary to await another announcement. It came sooner than he expected. Atticus, Tacitus’s lifelong slave and childhood tutor who acted as his prime secretary, knocked once on the library doors and then let himself in. He smiled at his master, now officially the most powerful man in the empire, and informed him that Scipio Sejanus Lupidius had arrived. Tacitus had already met with Sillius Ramirus Flavus, Carus Valens Julianus and Romulus Tiberius Maxus over the nights earlier, and his list of necessary interviews was shortening. Tacitus ordered them in, and as soon as Atticus had the door closed behind Sejanus, he walked forward to greet him.


Sejanus walked into the Emperor's chambers adorned in his finest toga, forgoing any egocentric adornment of military nature and instead choosing his senatorial garb. He did so hoping Tacitus would notice, and though Tacitus indeed found himself impressed, Sejanus couldn’t tell. He had mixed feelings about the entire situation of a new Emperor; He liked Aelianus Julius Vitellius and had much respect for the man bringing Rome back together from civil strife, but on the other hand he also had great admiration for Lucius Tacitus Vitellius. He immediately raised his hands in praise towards the new Imperator, who in legal ways was also his Uncle, but first his commander. "Greetings Imperator Vitellius, I am glad to see you again.”


"Proconsular Legate Lupidius... Sejanus, nephew," Tacitus said happily. "Your aunt Hilara was ecstatic when I told her you'd been summoned to Rome. I do hope when we're finished here you will take some time to visit her. Even your cousin Arcadius is eager to spend some time with you."


Sejanus smiled, "Yes I certainly will. I'm actually very glad to be back. I have many family errands to attend to, plus it's good to be reminded of what we're defending by coming back every once so often.To be honest," Sejanus paused, "I wasn't the biggest fan of the North either. It's just one big forest, pah!" He laughed.


Tacitus laughed too, remembering how he thought the same when he was younger. He sighed with a smile and looked deeply into Sejanus's eyes. After a moment he stepped aside and with a tilt of his head initiated a slave with a chair. "Have a seat, Sejanus. Let's get right down to it. I trust you garrisoned the legions at Mediolanum well enough?"

Sejanus nodded, "Certainly Imperator.”

Tacitus sat down too, and accepted a hefty glass- green, a new set handed over as a gift by a glass merchant from Aquiliae- of wine. He took a long drink, and then smiled. He had been Emperor only a few weeks and already accomplished enough to wear him out, but instead of tiring he had become invigorated. He found his life full of more purpose and he seemed to thrive on the responsibility. He waited for Sejanus to accept wine before he spoke. "I will be sending you East, making you Proconsular Legate pro Seleukia. Everything that was once Ptolemaic starting next to Aegyptus, and all Roman and Romano-Seleukid lands all the way to Anatolia will be your jurisdiction, including Cyprus. There are few forests, I am told..."

Sejanus laughed at the Emperor's joke as he happily accepted the glass of wine, "Good good. I believe those were the lands that my Grandfather was responsible for many years back. If I may ask, who will be continuing the war in Sabaco's place?"

Tacitus frowned, "So you've heard of his illness then... I will be promoting the son of Divus Persicus, currently Legate of I Tiberia Hispania Tiberius Fortunus Vitellius, to Proconsular Legate pro Anatolia. IX Gallicorum Rapax, one of the three legions you've brought South, will replace XIII Alipes under his command. I'm allowing Carus Florianus Vitellius to use his army to aide the Anatolian army in finally subduing the Bythinians... I am moving the XIII to your command because the son of Raeus is Legate, and I have too much respect for him to force cooperation on him with Florianus. Thankfully for you, the XIII is battle seasoned- veteran, by all logical accounts- and will do you well in securing and expanding the middle eastern lands."

Sejanus sighed at the thought of Raeus's son, "I still can't believe that...bastard got off so lucky..." After pausing for a moment, he decided to change the subject since he knew it was sensitive to Tacitus. Sejanus tilted his head, "And what expanding will be done from my territory exactly? I was under the impression I was going to be filling more of an administration role than a military one."

"Rome could benefit from new conquests, and war that brings in gold is popular with the people." Tacitus said. "I am fine with you securing the region and fortifying defenses, if that's all you wish to do. I will not tolerate idleness, so regular updates will be expected. However, at this point it is my understanding the Persians are in some state of unrest, maybe even disarray. It would be a good time to beat them back and gain for Rome the greatness they once held themselves. I know that Florianus managed a treaty with them, to keep them on the Eastern side of the Euphrates River... but that treaty was not made for Rome, and Rome does not need to honor it. You can go after Persia, or Armenia... or actively build up the region into a wondrous center of commerce and culture."

Sejanus's eyebrows flared as he imagined the possibilities in the east. "Very good. I am honored you are giving me so much freedom in my new assignment. It's very different from how Raeus used to orchestrate things.”

"I cannot be everywhere at once, and it would be foolish to think I can manage every Proconsular Legate so closely from Rome." Tacitus scowled a bit, thinking of how Honestus, and even Divus Pompeius were so keen on holding everyone on edge for his word, leaving no room for work to get done. He wouldn't be a micromanager like his predecessors. "You've displayed no actions that would cause me worry, Sejanus. No hint of rebellion has wafted my way, unlike some of your other family members. Keep me updated and keep the region secure, and you'll continue to have the benefit of the doubt."

Sejanus looked to the ground breaking eye contact thinking of his family. It was a sore subject with Sejanus, and he was very ashamed of it. "You don't have to worry about me your highness. I have never, and will never betray Rome in any way, you can count on it. Believe me, I am very by the book. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the Proconsular Legates around the Empire... but unfortunately so many men rebelled during these past wars that it seems there are very few...honorable men left."

"Indeed, I agree..." Tacitus said mournfully. He wasn't too broken up about it, but he was somewhat disturbed that he would be promoting former Eastern Empire rebels to command posts. It was a hard necessity, and one he hoped wouldn't backfire. "However, the most active spots are in the East, and that is where i'll be putting the most loyal, active commanders at my disposal. Proconsular Legate pro Aegyptus Lucius Titus Vitellius, your uncle, will be at your disposal for whatever help you may need in your new command. I have positioned every available man in areas that require constant command and activity, so there should be no idle hands to cause trouble. Rome needs peace at home, and war abroad. That is the formula that works."

Sejanus nodded his head at the Imperator's wisdom. "Seems logical. To be honest at this point I feel that it would be very difficult for someone to start another problem again anyways. There aren't three consecutive civil wars going on anymore, so if someone causes problems we can easily stamp them out. All will be well."

Tacitus smiled at Sejanus's optimism, and then stood up. "So, once you're finished here in Rome you will sail directly for Colonia Prima Pompeia Maritima in Judea, where you will meet up with XIII Alipes. The IX will be sent separately to Anatolia... in fact, i'll dispatch those orders today so they arrive sooner. You'll have any aux units you can raise, but for the time being just the XIII, VI and VIII as your legions. The Seluekid army will be there as well, and I will write to my nephew Basileus Iulios so he knows a little about you before you meet with him. There should be strain between your army and the Seleukids, as they are family. Oh," Tacitus said, pausing quickly. "One order I would like to see done immediately, to show the region that Rome is unquestionably in control again, is the cleansing of any and all support for the Eastern rebels. Proscribe them, weed them out and make examples of them. Rome is their master, and I will not tolerate questioning loyalty."

Sejanus smiled, "I like torture when it's deserved, don't worry I'll let them have it."

"Good," Tacitus said. "Now come, Sillius Ramirus Flavus, Carus Valens Julianus, Tullius Fortunus Julianus, Romulus Tiberius Maxus and others are gathered with their families and other notables through these doors," Tacitus motioned toward the rear of his library at a set of large doors. "I've called them all to Rome, and met with them individually over the past few days to discuss their futures, as you and I just did. The party itself is for my reign, for my success and to share it with those who've stood by my family and I for the past three generations. Enjoy yourself, Sejanus."


Sejanus stood and gave the Imperator a salute, "No man more deserving Imperator" Sejanus smiled, "I could use another drink, I had a long journey".


The next morning came without issue. Tacitus had instructed Atticus to divert all attentions to a list, so that when he felt capable in the day he could deal with them then. The successive parties over the past week were fun for Tacitus, but clearly wore him down. He wasn’t a spry youth as he once had been, and even when he was younger he wasn’t the sort of man to overindulge. Sex, wine, cannabis- all were vices for his brothers Titus and Cassius. Tacitus had always been an intellectual, stoic sort of man with militaristic leanings... which also meant he rose for each day early, with the sun in the summer months. As Tacitus creaked and cracked his way out of his bed, he noticed that Vespa- his Empress, the eldest daughter of Emperor Rufus Pompeius Varro nearly thirty years prior- wasn’t there. He sighed and shook his head, dragging his left hand over her place on the mattress as he stood up. Morning light was creeping around the heavy curtains that masked the eastern windows, sending streams of lighted dust outward, drawing the weary Emperor toward them.


Tacitus yawned. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, realizing that there were no servants to tend to him. He looked back to his bed, thinking perhaps one had been standing nearer than he noticed and had simply not noticed, but there was no one there. He humphed, shrugged and continued on toward the window. He wanted to bath in the light, the last morning sunlight of the waning summer... when soon enough he would be waking in the darkness of winter and would miss the energizing rays of light so early in the day. Dressed in a simple white tunic, he lumbered to the curtains and with both arms at once yanked them open.


Tacitus jumped back in terror. It wasn’t sunlight behind the curtains, it was fire! He stood there, crust still clinging to the corners of his eyes, feet bare and hair tossled from sleep and watched as flames roared toward him. The heat hit him like a wave, and he just stood there. He looked around quickly from side to side, to be sure he was still in his bedroom- and he was, so he looked back. The flames were still there. Where he was so sure windows were there was now a vast opening turning black with char as flames licked around the opening to his bedchamber. He stepped closer, brave in his uncertainty that it was even real. The heat grew against his skin, and he felt sweat bead and tingle from his forehead and chest. He squinted to see through the flames, to see what was burning in the fire.


Rome. His wife, children, brothers, nephews, nieces, parents, friends and associates. Attalus III Eumenes, Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Daratius Antonius Terpus and Kveni Amalafrida. Screaming.


The sound of the screaming hit Tacitus harder than the wave of heat. His mother, Faestia Disius, was clawing her way over white hot embers toward him. He watched as her fingers each burst into flames as she grabbed with shrieks of terror the hot stones of his palace. His father, Quinus Lucius Vitelius, alit in flickering flames stood without any audible show of pain and stared right into him, his father’s eyes burning into his own. Quinus Brutus Vitellius, the uncle Tacitus never knew, was charred and screaming loudly. His cousins Brutus Cassius Vitellius- Quinus Brutus’s son- and his son Cassius Maecius too were screaming in agony, clinging to Tacitus’s first wife Severa and their unborn child while explosions of fire leapt up around them. All coming toward Tacitus as fast as they could, screaming in pain and calling his name.


Tacitus. Tacitus! Ta-a-acitus. Tacitus Tacitus Tacitus!


TACITUS!


Tacitus was frozen in fear and pity where he stood. The flames seemed to flicker around his face, hissing near his ears and singeing his hair. He closed his eyes tight and covered his ears. He could still hear them all calling for him, begging for his help- or his soul. He pressed down on his ears harder, and started yelling out a prayer to Dubertici, calling for help. TACITUS! They kept calling. His mother crawled nearer to him, reaching out with every other flaming arm the closer she got. TACITUS! They all called; she called. He was still frozen, still as if turned to wood to fuel the hellish flames that tortured his family. He watched helplessy, the terror welling up inside him as he locked eyes with his burning mother. She was close enough to reach for his hand. Screaming. Finally Tacitus started to yell, nonsense spewing at first that turned to words of defiance, but she kept coming for him. He couldn’t close his eyes as she stood up onto her feet, flames licking up around her entire naked body, and she reached for his head.


“No-o-o-o-!” Tacitus yelled, finally breaking his statue-like stiffness. He thrust his arms up to push his mother away, and she yelped.


Tacitus opened his eyes, yelling, “No!” still, and shot upright with his arms outstretched. There were no flames around him. No burning members of his family. No terror or torture- no heat, and no morning light. A dim flicker came from behind to his left, and he turned his head slowly, afraid that perhaps it was still happening. There was Vespa, looking disheveled and frightened, holding her hands. It was all a nightmare! Tacitus smiled sheepishly, and looked from his Empress around the room, to the windows that had, in his dream, opened onto the pits of something so sinister he shivered with the re-imagining of it. He looked back to Vespa and leaned onto his left arm, reaching for her with his right. Seeing her hold her hands the way she was, and the look on her face, he realized that when he pushed his mother away in his dream, he probably pushed Vespa away from trying to wake him. All the calling of his name must have been her trying to bring him out of what must have appeared to be a terrible dream.


“It must have been horrible,” she said quietly. “Some dream.”


Tacitus sighed, still breathing heavily and happy it was, at the present, just a dream. He felt some happiness as he looked upon Vespa and thought how sweet it was she didn’t just move to another bed during his fit and leave him locked in a tumultuous slumber. He rested his right hand on her clasped hands and said, “It was horrible. Absolutely wretched, terrible- terrifying! Thank you for trying to wake me, I don’t know how I would have survived such a ridiculously scary vision...”


Vespa looked confused, and opened her hands to embrace Tacitus’s. She smiled a little bit and squinted her eyes, with a small shake of her head. It was something she did when she was raising their children, when talking to them. She squeezed Tacitus’s hand and said, “I did no such thing; It was you who woke me. Just now... I didn’t touch you.”


“But your hand... it looked like you were holding them close, because I pushed you away.” He looked at his own forearms, sensing a feeling of earlier physical contact with another. “I can feel that I pushed you off me; I heard you calling my name to wake me.”


“Oh Tacitus, no.” She said calmly. “It wasn’t me... My hands are sore from weaving, you didn’t push me away from anything. I’ve only been in bed a few minutes.”


Tacitus was confused now, and frightened. Images of his burning family flashed through his mind as he looked onto the sheets of the bed, his mother burning up before him and reaching out to him. He felt a sweat break on his back, the tingle sending a shiver up his spine. A moment of silence passed as he tried to ignore the tingle of sweat and the truth from Vespa that he awoke himself and she helped not. He turned from her and swung his feet out of the bed and sat a moment, leaning forward with his hands propping himself up on the edge. The cool of the room calmed him, it was the opposite of fire. He felt Vespa reach out and rub her fingers on his back. He pulled away. “I have to rise for the day. I can’t close my eyes again tonight. Not now.”


“Do you want to tell me what you saw? The dream...?” She asked. Tacitus wasn’t prone to nightmares, or dreams of any sort; He was a sound sleeper. She was worried that he would be upset enough to rise before the sun and not talk about it. “I am still awake, if you need me.”


Tacitus stood, and turned halfway toward Vespa with a weak smile and a dismissive wave of his right hand. “No my dear, you sleep. I will be fine... Go to sleep.”


Vespa sighed, and said, “Alright. Go do your thing, whatever it is. If you need me just wake me up. I love you.”


“You too,” Tacitus said with his back turned. He walked away without looking back, trying not to look toward the window that had given him so much terror in his dream. He did have things to do- a whole busy day ahead of him with many things waiting on him, and he hoped that he could erase the scarring images from his mind by working hard. He shut the door behind him, and turned to his right to make for the servant quarters. He needed Atticus awake with him, and needed his wisdom now, it seemed, more than ever. Normally Tacitus would huff with a smile to himself and think how funny it was that a good slave often became more than just a slave, but he was too listless. He needed to get another stoic perspective and move on, or deal with the message. If there was one.


Two days later Tacitus still wasn’t smiling, but he had given up interpreting what concensus branded a “simple nightmare”. He was still preturbed by the images in the dream, namely his parents, but as the hours wore on and the petitioners filed through his day, he worried less and less. Part of him held on to the notion that perhaps his dream was a warning- how obvious too, he thought- that his family was in danger while he was reigning; He wanted to dismiss that idea as quickly as possible, knowing full well that even if it weren’t his mind playing a nasty trick on him, the gods would be a little more vague in a message. His dream was literal- but, every time he nearly wiped his mind clean, he couldn’t figure out why living as well as dead members were burning in the same fire, calling for him as if all together. Every time that thought played through his mind, he shuddered.


The morning of the second day since, he took private audience with his nephew Titus Arcadius out near the elephant cage in his private zoo. The elder son of his brother Lucius Titus, and hybrid progeny of the infamous Lupidii gens with his own, Arcadius was everything Tacitus wanted the leading males in his family to be. Tall (for the city), attractive, breedable, intelligent and quick with a weapon. Arcadius had trained first under, or for, his father to be a soldier, but after the rebellions erupted around the empire he took to the Senate. Tacitus’s own sons, save the late Rufus, had all been politicians or playboys, living off the family’s wealth and power to further personal agendas. That is, until the rebellions. Even though Tacitus’s eldest and youngest sons, the last of his three, had enlisted to command legoins, none so far compared to Arcadius. As Emperor, Tacitus purposely began to increase the burden of responsibility Arcadius was bearing as Senator, hoping soon to make him a pontifex.


Arcadrius reported that the Forum Tulliae was complete, and an inaugural celebration was being planned. He also read letters from his brothers Cassius and Titus, telling him that all was well in their respective regions and to expect tributes to his reign from the necessary leaders soon enough. The Senate was functioning smoothly as he expected, and reports from military units were regular and clear- as he expected. Dispatches from Procurator Marcus Horatius Polybius of Mauritania Tingitana enlightened Tacitus to the useful presence of Maxii forces left behind in Septem- to which Tacitus quickly tasked Atticus with writing to, ordering them to fulfill orders of the Procurator. He knew they couldn’t disobey without sparking their own demise, and he knew word of his actions would test the mettle and loyalty of Romulus Tiberius Maxus.


“Your father has been doing well in keeping the Aegyptians under our thumb,” Tacitus said with a hinted smile. He looked Arcadius in the eyes as he spoke, watching for any reaction. “I wouldn’t be opposed to letting him dominate the Nubians as repercussion for aiding Daratius Antonius Terpus.”


Arcadius cocked an eyebrow, taking his time responding. He was a pragmatist like his Uncle, lacking the warrior passion of his father and the humor of his uncle Cassius. He held on to the thick stack of letters he had been reading from and let his hands fall onto his waist. “They are backward opportunists, Uncle. Better to bleed them for tribute than to subjugate. Besides, I recommend consolidating Aegyptus for your own purse; Using their tribute of grain to placate the mob will out spend the Senate’s program of free grain, and you will have a ready steady supply from which to continue buying adoration.”


“That’s not what I want, not adoration.” Tacitus said quickly, furrowing his brow in a brief bit of confusion. Arcadius knew that Tacitus wasn’t out to be loved or celebrated, but to rule strictly and dominantly to ensure Rome lasted all that much longer. He wanted citizens to reign supreme, gold to flow and borders to strengthen. He looked from his nephew onto the elephants. “However--”


“However, haha,” Arcadius laughed, and handed the stack of papers off to Atticus. The aged slave stood quietly, watching his master and Arcadius conduct business. He knew his opinion would be asked for soon enough, so speaking too early would serve no purpose. Arcadius took a step aside his uncle and watched the bull elephant wrap it’s trunk around a small log, picking it up from the pen floor and using it to knock fruit from a nearby tree. He smiled a little as he watched the cow elephant greedily eat the pears that began to litter the pen. “Your grip is growing stronger, and even the most conservative of Senators who have long wished for a leader of decisiveness and traditional ideals are beginning to question your willingness to ignore them altogether. I suggest using Aegyptus as your personal coffers as a safety. A few parties for the nobles wouldn’t hurt either.”


Tacitus turned to Arcadius. “You mean those ancient cast-offs of the Guardiani Romanae, right? They should check their own history. I let the Senate do what it needs to do without intervention, but I will not allow them to dictate military affairs.”


“You’d be surprised how many think they should be,” Arcadius quipped, knowing his uncle wouldn’t be.


“I am never surprised.” Tacitus looked back to the elephants, nodding once in their direction. “You saw how the bull elephant knocked fruit for the others. He is the dominant beast in their small herd. I am the dominant beast in our herd.”


“You want to wave a stick around and feed fruit to the resltess optimates,” Arcadius smiled wryly. He saw his uncle begin to form a frustrated face, and cut him off. He lifted his hands slightly higher than his waist, saying, “I get what you mean. I’ll take the liberty of inviting those I know of who oppose your new way of things to the palace, and you can give them what they need. Always be prepared to hand out responsibility, even if it’s just herding the sacred geese.”


“Exactly,” Tacitus said, turning from the elephants. “Everyone wants to feel important. Like they’ve got the biggest secret or most important task.”


Arcadius nodded and stepped back,and looked to Atticus. “Well i’m sure you’ve got more than sacred geese for the men i’ll be sending your way. I’ve something else to do Uncle, i’ll be going.”


“Right, of course- go.” Tacitus waved him off with a smile, knowing where Arcadius was going. Arcadius turned quickly and dashed away, met at the palace doors by his own retinue of guardsmen and administrative slaves. Tacitus turned to Atticus and said nothing. He just stared.


“Anything, sir?” Atticus asked, growing mildly uncomfortable.


Tacitus blinked, and then smiled. “Well, spit it out man.”


“Your nephew speaks wisdom. If your brother the Proconsular Legate pro Aegyptus has indeed the hold over the region you assume, then utilizing their excess for your own gain would be relatively easy.” Atticus rubbed his forehead. “And doubtful, if coin kept reaching the Temple of Saturn, it would be questioned.”


“I don’t know. It’s still too early to make such moves.”


“All you have to do is think on it. With the victories anticipated in Moesia and Gothia, you’ve got other things to focus on.” Atticus tucked the stack of papers he was holding into a leather satchel he was wearing over his shoulder. “As well as the old hardliners.”


“Bah,” Tacitus scoffed, looking up toward the sky. It was littered with small white puffs of clouds, belying the cooler temperatures of the season. “They’ll be easy enough to silence.”


“True enough. If you don’t need anything, i’d like to go organize this mess of correspondence your nephew stuck me with,” Atticus asked. He watched Tacitus look slowly around.


“You too huh,” he said without inflection. Atticus shrugged. What else was there to do there? He had administrative things to do, things Tacitus would overlook. Tacitus nodded. “Go then, take care of whatever it is you do when i’m not looking.”


Atticus walked away, quickly for his advanced years, and within two minutes was back near Tacitus. He had with him a visitor, but knowing he could very well be stuck outside for much longer if he announced the man, he led him to the general area and told him where to go before scurrying inside. As Tacitus stood in his menagerie watching the elephants eat their fruit and play around, he was surprised by the voice of an unexpected visitor: Tullius Fortunus Julianus. He hadn’t seen the young man since returning from Hispania for what would become his coronation, and was more than a little happy to hear he had arrived.



"Fortunus," Tacitus said happily. He didn't expect the Hispanic Legate for another week, and so rose from his cushioned seat with some excitement. "Happy to see you. Your legion made it to Mediolanum intact?"

Fortunas chuckled and replied, "It is good to see you Tacitus, I am a hard task master and push my men hard. These men are highly reliable and extremely fit thanks to all the recent marching. A fine legion especially since I have recruited extra men from the Ielevocates tribe. My cavalry is a bit light but I feel I can recoup that later." Fortunas stopped for a moment to adjust to his surroundings, it had been over a year since Fortunas was last in the palace and on that occasion he was a nervous wreck, now infront of Tacitus he felt strangely at home. "It’s nice to see you well Tacitus."

Tacitus gave Fortunus a one-armed hug and initiated a walk while his arm was still around Fortunus. "You got my note, I assume. About marching out much sooner than expected to Thracia?"

"Of course cousin, your courier was most expedient, he demanded to see only me personally," Fortunas chuckled to himself. "I needed to come to Rome to conclude my affairs and see you, of course."

"Of course," Tacitus said sarcastically, but with a tone that said he wasn't about to keep it up. "What I didn't say is that Sillius Ramirus Flavus will be taking command of two legions already there, as well as three waiting auxillary cohorts. You will be given command of two cohorts as well, and together you and Ramirus will march to aide Fuvanius Rufus Sabaco. I am quite certain you've never met Ramirus."

"That is true I have not, but like many people I have heard the rumours, but I put no stock in rumours and will judge the man on his character." Fortunas sensed the tone and became more serious.

"He is a man of dubious character, but laid out practically he is of good skill and intelligence." Tacitus didn't want to slander Ramirus, but he wanted to prepare Fortunus for what would be a long and cold march alongside him. "I am sorry you weren't able to be here days earlier. There were gatherings to celebrate my coronation, and you could have met Ramirus then. I'll direct you to his home when we are finished catching up, and you can meet him on your own."

"Thank you Tacitus, I would like to meet Ramirus. So cousin how is Rome? No unrest I hope." Fortunas said in a hopeful tone, he knew that Rome was a fickle place where peoples moods swung like a pendulum.

"The city is wonderful. The people are happy, things are looking good." Tacitus smiled as he led Fortunus back toward the menagerie. He wanted to show his cousin the new pair of breeding elephants send over from Seleukia from his sister, Queen Maximiana and her son King Iulios as coronation gifts. "The city is so pleased in fact, noble families are finding it a good time to marry their sons and daughters off. Which leads me to ask if you would consider remarrying."

Fortunas lowered his head, and looked in the distance then back at Tacitus. He missed the company and the warmth that Cassandra, Tacitus’s grandaughter, gave him for the short time they were together and longed for something extra, while on campaign in Hispania against the Freigoths he was still to busy to notice. But since arriving in Rome the memories of there time together filled his mind. "I believe it is time I remarried, Castor needs a mother and strong mother, I will not always be around." Fortunas sighed. He had not seen Castor for over a year and was hoping to soon.

"I would be honored to help with that," Tacitus said. He was always keen on arranging marriages for his own family members, and had been very succesful to date in securing the very best for his family's needs. He smiled at Fortunus and let one corner of his mouth pull higher up than the other, and after a moment of silence he gasped for breath and turned toward the elephant pen. “I’ve the perfect woman for you to meet.”

Fortunas chuckled at the forwardness of Tacitus, Fortunas remarked "I’ll do my best to be polite, as always.”


Written By: Ferus Juventas
Edited By: Ferus Juventas
138 AD