Hispania
Governor's Residence
"Lord Imperator. A dispatch has arrived for you from Rome."
"Ah, thank you, Lieutenant."
Gaius Julius Caesar replied as he received the salute.
As governor in Hispania, he was presiding over the province on Rome's behalf.
On the fringes of the province, numerous indigenous tribes still refused to bow to Roman authority. It was his mission to bring them to heel for the Republic.
Caesar picked up his cup and unfurled the papyrus scroll.
At the very top was the name of his wife, Cornelia.
"A letter from Cornelia, I see."
'I hope you are in good health, Gaius...'
He read through the papyrus with focused attention. The beginning was filled with the usual domestic updates and inquiries about his well-being.
Then, one sentence caught his eye.
'Our son, Lucius, has stirred up quite a storm. I'm not sure whether to call it a disaster or a grand blessing, but...'
Caesar continued reading slowly. The details of Lucius visiting Crassus to borrow money, starting a venture called "Insurance" with those funds, and subsequently striking a deal with Crassus.
By the time he finished the letter, Caesar couldn't help but burst into a boisterous laugh.
"My Lord, is everything alright?"
At the sound of his thunderous laughter, the guards came rushing in.
Caesar waved them off, shouting over the confusion.
"It's nothing! It's nothing at all!"
It was only after the guards withdrew that Caesar finally managed to stop laughing.
He tossed the letter onto the table with a sharp slap.
"Yes! That's a Caesar, all right!"
He could hardly believe his son had pulled off such a feat.
Even Caesar himself found Crassus a difficult man to handle.
Yet, his son, not even twenty years old, had stood his ground against the wealthiest man in Rome.
"Just how big is that boy's ambition? Good heavens."
Lucius was launching ventures like it was child's play.
"Perhaps the next Alexander the Great won't be me, but my son."
With a satisfied smirk, Caesar drained his cup of wine.
Just then, his lieutenant returned and saluted once more.
"Lord Imperator, the legions have completed their preparations for the march."
"Very well. It is time to offer a sacrifice to Mars."
With the lieutenant's help, Caesar donned his armor and stepped out onto the building's terrace.
Thousands of Roman soldiers were assembled in the square below, awaiting his command.
Caesar drew his sword and shouted.
"Soothsayer! Summon the pullarius! Bring the sacred chickens!"
A man in ceremonial robes appeared in the square, clutching a chicken.
Before a march, the Roman army would perform an augury; it was considered a good omen if the sacred chickens ate the grain provided to them with vigor.
The moment the soothsayer set the bird on the ground, it pecked at the grain like a frenzy.
The soldiers erupted in cheers at the sight. Very few of them knew that the soothsayer had been starving the poor bird for the past three days.
"Wooooo!"
"For the glory of Rome!"
Caesar roared in response to the soldiers' cheers.
To ensure he didn't fall behind his son's success, he had to conquer Hispania.
***
"Young Master, is it too late to ask you to change your mind?"
"Why are you so anxious, Felix?"
"No matter how well the insurance business is doing, starting a new venture now is risky. Babu agrees with me."
"I'm just selling processed olive oil, Felix. It's nothing dangerous."
"The production process you described will require dozens more workers. Even your mother was against it yesterday, wasn't she?"
"Mother was against the insurance business when I first mentioned it, too," I replied, yawning as I answered Felix.
Last night, I spent hours in the Temple of my dream, researching how to make liquid soap from olive oil.
Not the hard, solid soap that Romans found repulsive, but a familiar form of Palmolive-style liquid soap.
Technically, production was entirely possible with the tools available in Rome.
The technology was the easy part. Everything else wasn't.
"To be honest, sir, I don't even understand why you're bothering to make 'bath oil' separately," Felix said. "By your own description, you're just taking something that already exists and putting it through a tedious manufacturing process, aren't you?"
"Without an alkaline agent, the oil just smears dirt around. It doesn't wash it away."
I trailed off as I saw the blank look on Felix's face.
Right. This is Rome. The concepts of bacteria or microbes don't exist, let alone basic chemistry.
Explaining how alkaline components like lime or lye bind with fatty acids to strip away germs and dirt was like speaking an alien language to him.
Truthfully, I didn't fully understand the science of soap myself until I studied in the temple last night.
I just knew from a young age that washing with soap makes you clean.
The real hurdle was selling the stuff.
Even if it's better for hygiene, I wonder if Romans will actually pay for liquid soap.
As Felix noted, they already clean themselves with olive oil; why buy something more expensive?
Marketing. It all comes down to changing Roman perception. Well, I can handle that.
I've had more than enough experience with business and PR in my past life.
For now, I needed to develop the production line. A way to maximize output while minimizing cost. And I have just the man for the job.
"I need to have a word with Vitruvius."
***
"Mixing plant ash into olive oil and stirring it over a low flame for a long period creates a liquid that removes any stain... is that the gist of it?"
"Simply put, it's soap made from olive oil," I explained.
"And you discovered this through your own experiments?"
I nodded at Vitruvius's question. After summoning him, I dove straight into a meeting to plan the production of liquid soap.
The recipe was simple, and the materials were cheap. But it wasn't without its challenges.
Because olive oil soap requires constant, prolonged stirring, it demands a massive amount of labor—exactly the problem Felix and my mother had pointed out.
After mixing the ingredients, you have to stir for at least ten hours straight to produce usable soap.
"To mass-produce it that way, you'd need at least a hundred slaves, or over two hundred workers," Vitruvius said, fumbling with his stylus. "To maintain that kind of workforce, you'd have to put a premium price on the soap."
"I won't," I said, shaking my head.
Selling soap as a luxury item was fine, but it wouldn't capture the hearts of the Roman masses.
Besides, I doubted the Roman elite would jump at the chance to pay a premium for it.
"What if we use the device I introduced to you earlier?"
"The device...?"
"We have the waterwheel."
"You mean the mechanism you showed me before, sir?"
I nodded. A waterwheel utilizes the power of flowing water.
By using one, we eliminate the need for human labor to stir the vats for hours on end.
This would naturally drive down the production cost of the liquid soap.
"I've seen waterwheels used for power in Greece, but I've never seen a vertical design as revolutionary as the one you've conceived," Vitruvius said, examining the blueprints I'd drawn based on the temple's records. "Between this and the interior layout of the insurance office, I'm beginning to think you have a god-given talent for architecture, sir."
The interior layout? I tilted my head. I'd just copied a standard bank design from the 21st century.
Was it really that impressive to him?
"Regardless, with this level of detail, I can refine the designs and begin construction as early as this week."
"Then I'll have Felix purchase a building near the Tiber River."
"I'll also contact the carpenters I know immediately."
I offered a silent prayer for Felix. I could already see his face twisted in a scream of despair.
"The only question is whether the Tiber's current is strong enough to turn the wheel. But for a wheel of this size, it should be more than sufficient," Vitruvius said as he stood up.
Fortunately, the city of Rome offered the perfect environment for hydro-power.
The Tiber River, which cuts through the city, has significant width and length. If I wanted to, I could install hundreds of large-scale waterwheels.
Most people don't realize that the first Industrial Revolution didn't start with the steam engine; it started with waterwheels and windmills.
In mass production, the waterwheel was vital—handling everything from paper-making and threshing to milling, textile processing, and blacksmithing.
In medieval Europe, the waterwheel was essentially the equivalent of a 21st-century power plant.
"Then let's get to work," I said, looking at Vitruvius.
Two days later, in the morning.
A haggard-looking Felix stumbled into my office.
"As you ordered, sir, I've recruited twenty new workers. I interviewed every single one of them personally to find the best candidates."
"Good work, Felix. Now all that's left is to secure the factory building."
"Surely... surely you aren't asking me to do that as well, sir?"
"You know I trust you implicitly, Felix. I'll make sure your bonus is substantial once this is all over."
"Very well, sir." Felix sighed.
"Wait! Felix. Before you go, tell the new recruits to come to my office."
"Right now? We don't even have a building yet. What could you possibly need them for?"
"I have to train them before we start production."
Machinery like the waterwheel wasn't the only way to make production more efficient.
There was also the "Division of Labor."
A single garment goes through at least ten different processes before it's finished—from shepherding and wool sorting to dyeing, spinning, weaving, transporting, and selling.
Having one person handle the entire chain is peak inefficiency.
By dividing the tasks, you can lower the unit cost while simultaneously increasing output.
Since it didn't cost much money to implement, there was no reason not to do it.
"Now then, I'm going to assign each of you a specific role!"
Gathered before the new employees, I stationed them according to the production stages.
The preparation of materials: olive oil and soda ash.
Olive oil was already widely distributed, so it could be bought from wholesalers.
Soda ash could be obtained by burning specific plants in large quantities. Once prepared, the ingredients are mixed in a precise ratio and heated.
During this process, a small amount of salt is added to pull out the impurities.
After that, the waterwheel takes over the task of stirring the liquid soap over a low flame for hours.
After a full night of stirring, and the addition of various herbs at the very end, the "Castile-style" liquid soap is complete.
As I finished the training, I clapped my hands and addressed the group.
"Now, let's get started."
With my workforce doubling in an instant, my own workload grew as well, but I didn't mind.
My father was likely suffering through much harder trials in Hispania.
To protect the House of Caesar and my family, I had to find success as quickly as possible.
In my past life, no matter how hard I worked, there were no rewards.
My boss would steal my credit, or projects would be scrapped simply because I lost a round of office politics.
But this was different. Everything I did now led directly to the prosperity of the Caesar name.
And more importantly...
"I'm tired of washing myself with sticky olive oil."