In the streets of Rome, past cracking monuments showing signs of recent neglect, the citizens received their usual cavalcade of useless nonsense.
"Citizens of Rome!" proclaimed the herald. "The oracle has foretold light showers and a possible outbreak of diarrhea. Furthermore, the guild of bankers has collapsed following an imperial investigation!"
He paused to let the murmurs die down before shouting, "And beware of Christian magic! Sabina of the lower north side has fallen ill after trying to mock a Christian by shouting prophecies at them."
The people tallied these announcements as either entirely useless or mere background noise. Then the announcer got excited; he cleared his throat and prepared for the biggest news of his life.
The herald puffed out his chest, excitement written plainly across his face. "The Emperor Gallienus has been reunited with his father!"
A massive cheer erupted from the crowd. Emperor Valerian had returned! Finally, the empire could get back on track.
Then, the herald froze. He paused in trepidation, looking down at the scroll in his hands. He cleared his throat and nervously corrected himself. "...father's corpse."
That distinction was a massive divergence from what the people had expected. The herald, it seemed, had not fully read the context of the report before opening his mouth.
The crowds eventually dispersed, continuing their regular, grueling lives burdened by debased currency, the looming threat of plague, and endless barbarian raids. What none of them realized was that this single, macabre event would herald the rebirth of the Res Publica.
Miles away, Gallienus stood in silence, staring at his father's corpse.
The rest of the imperial family had fled the room, unable to bear the sight of it. Valerian's body had been desecrated, mutilated, and turned into a horrid, taxidermied idol to fuel Sassanid pride.
Odaenathus, the man who had fought to retrieve the body, stood respectfully on the periphery of the room. "Caesar," he asked quietly, "what are your wishes?"
The Emperor let out a sudden, bitter laugh. "I wish my father were alive. I wish I weren't weak. I wish my family weren't at constant risk of assassination. He shook his head, his eyes hardening as he looked at the ruined remains of his father. "I wish a lot of things."
Odaenathus bowed his head. "Well, whatever you require... I am here, my Emperor."
Gallienus's laughter faded, replaced by a sharp, calculating smile. He turned to face the man. "Want to help me rebuild the Republic?"
The year was 262 AD, and Rome was about to experience a paperpunk makeover.
There would be no gunpowder. There would be no steam engines. There would be no magical men falling from the sky armed with game-like systems or modern technological blueprints. All Rome would get to help it survive the third century and beyond was sweeping civil reform.
Forget foolish notions of wonder weapons blasting barbarians to dust. It was time to embrace the tedious, world-changing power of paperwork, a proper census, and the devastating coordination that only an efficient bureaucracy could unleash.