"Damn it, damn it, damn it."
Zosimus cursed under his breath, his eyes darting frantically around the dark corridor beneath the arena. It was nearly pitch-black, with only the distant, muffled roar of the crowd echoing from the entrance ahead.
"I don't belong in a place like this."
He kept muttering it to himself.
Beside him stood the other condemned prisoners, their bodies trembling in the suffocating darkness.
Several guards holding wooden clubs stood watch over them.
"Did you hear the rumors? They say all the beasts meant for the executions today died in their cages."
"Wait, is that true?!"
Relief flashed across the prisoners' faces.
Every single person in this tunnel, Zosimus included, was scheduled to be executed in the arena today.
Some were murderers, while others were men who had dared to harass the Vestals.
However, the vast majority were slaves; free citizens were a rare sight down here.
Even for the most heinous crimes, Roman citizens were typically punished with exile or confiscation of property.
It was rare for a citizen like Zosimus to be thrown into the arena for execution.
But his crime was just as extraordinary.
He had kidnapped freeborn Roman citizens and sold them into slavery in Greece and Africa.
Not just him, but the slave traders who had colluded with the bandits were currently huddled in this tunnel, awaiting their grim fate.
"I spent a fortune bribing the jurors, and this is how it ends...?"
"Shouldn't Roman citizens at least be granted a swift death?"
The men whispered miserably among themselves.
Zosimus swallowed hard, staring at the heavy wooden gates at the end of the tunnel.
Slowly, the gates groaned open, and blinding sunlight flooded the corridor.
Zosimus and the other prisoners squeezed their eyes shut, raising their hands to block the sudden glare.
"Move it! Get out there!"
As the guards began swinging their clubs, Zosimus had no choice but to stumble forward.
Stepping cautiously out of the tunnel, the colossal scale of the amphitheater came into view.
The deafening roar of tens of thousands of spectators shook the very foundations of the arena.
"The rumors were true. There are no beasts out here."
Zosimus let out a sigh of relief.
If what the others said was true, at the very least, he wouldn't be eaten alive.
He and the rest of the condemned trudged toward the center of the arena, the sand shifting beneath their feet.
"If it weren't for that wretched Lucius..."
Zosimus swept his gaze over the stands, trying to spot Lucius Caesar.
This was all that little brat's fault.
When Lucius had first demanded information, hadn't Zosimus been the most cooperative merchant of all?
He had spilled everything he knew.
Yet, the moment the bandits were all caught, Lucius turned them over to the authority.
"Great Jupiter will never forgive you for this!"
Just as Zosimus threw his hands up and screamed at the sky, a massive set of doors on the far side of the arena slowly swung open.
As the prisoners swallowed in terror, a group of figures emerged from the shadows.
A troop of cavalry emerged.
Led by a man who looked like an officer, the riders marched out onto the sand in a single, disciplined file.
Some of the riders were carrying those strange 'kites,' while the rest held long coils of rope with loops knotted at the ends.
"What on earth is that?"
"I have no idea. Are the riders going to cut us down?"
As panic rippled through the other prisoners, all the blood drained from Zosimus's face.
"N-No...!"
He realized what they were about to do.
A whistle cut through the roar of the crowd, and the cavalry spurred their horses into a full charge.
***
"What in Jupiter's name is that?!"
"I've never seen anyone ride at full gallop with both hands free like that!"
The crowd in the seats gasped in amazement.
Dozens of cavalrymen were tearing across the arena, swinging their lassos through the air.
The prisoners were sprinting wildly in every direction, but every time a lasso snaked out and yanked a man off his feet, a deafening cheer erupted from the crowd.
Mark Antony raised his hand, and the cavalry split into two divisions.
The left flank drove the panicked prisoners toward the center, while the right flank rode hard along the perimeter of the arena, cutting off every escape route.
One prisoner made a desperate dash toward the walls separating the sand from the stands.
At that exact moment, the lasso flew from Antony's hand.
The rope whipped through the air like a serpent, wrapping perfectly around the prisoner's shoulders and pinning his arms to his sides.
The next moment, the man was yanked backward, crashing hard into the sand.
The crowd erupted.
"By the gods, that man's aim is flawless!"
"I've never seen anything like this! Is this really how Lucius Caesar hunted down the bandits?!"
Antony leaned his entire body sideways off the saddle, dipping so low he nearly brushed the sand, and hurled his lasso again.
The loop snapped tight around Zosimus's ankles. Antony instantly pulled back on the reins, halting his horse and dragging the slave trader face-first through the dirt.
Antony threw his arms wide to the roaring crowd.
"Look at the horses! Do you see what's hanging from the saddles?!"
"Yeah, there's some kind of metal ring hanging from them! Can anyone see that?!"
"I heard rumors about those. They say young Caesar's engineers invented them, and the allied cavalry used them during the bandit campaign."
"Was that actually true?!"
While the citizens leaned forward with burning curiosity, the condemned prisoners, bound hand and foot, were dragged across the arena.
"I thought the reports were just political exaggeration when I read them..."
"If they rode like that, the bandits had no chance at all."
"No wonder the roads were cleared so quickly."
Meanwhile, a few younger patricians in the seats reserved for the nobility were staring at the stirrups with an intense, almost feverish obsession.
"If we could just use those..."
"Yes... this could be our salvation."
***
"I thought it would be less cruel than being eaten alive by hungry beasts, but..."
It was much more bizarre to watch.
I scratched my head as I looked down at the arena.
The prisoners were scrambling for their lives while Antony and the allied cavalry chased them down with lassos like runaway cattle.
"Is that really how you caught the bandits?"
"Something like that."
I nodded at Julia's question.
The crowd's reaction was vastly more explosive than I had anticipated.
The cavalrymen seemed to be treating it like a fierce competition, wildly throwing their lassos to see who could catch the most prisoners.
"I didn't expect you to display your achievements quite like this," Pompeia noted with a light laugh.
"And in such an entertaining manner, no less."
"..."
Turning my achievements into a spectacle, huh.
Well, strictly speaking, she wasn't wrong.
Later Roman emperors would use arenas like the Colosseum and the Circus Maxim to reenact their military victories as grand spectacles for political propaganda.
Still, I didn't expect the crowd to go this crazy for a Roman version of a rodeo.
I cleared my throat.
"The prisoners can just be executed after the games are over. There's really no need to throw them to the beasts."
Aside from the fact that it was needlessly cruel to both the humans and the animals, using exotic beasts for executions and games was a nightmare to arrange.
Hunting down lions and tigers across the far-flung provinces, transporting them all the way back to Rome, and keeping them fed and caged required an insane amount of labor, planning, and money.
And right now, the aediles were the ones shouldering that financial burden.
If the citizens reacted this positively to a simple lasso demonstration, couldn't this serve as a far cheaper alternative?
As that thought crossed my mind, a chuckle escaped my lips.
Here I was, thinking of hunting humans like animals in an arena as a cheaper alternative.
My moral compass really had been dragged down to ancient Roman standards.
That was when it happened.
"Lucius Julius Caesar."
A group of young men approached to me, clearing their throats politely to announce their presence.
They were all clad in pristine togas and looked to be young men barely past boyhood.
"We apologize for interrupting you during the games, Caesar. We had a urgent matter we wished to discuss with you."
"Please, speak freely."
I recognized a few of their faces.
They were the young patricians who had publicly declared their support for me back at the Campus Martius.
Their parents were either influential senators or staunch supporters of my father and the populares.
"We had actually intended to ask this of you the moment you returned to Rome. However, given the recent... chaotic events, we did not wish to intrude upon your time," one of the young men said.
"But after witnessing today's display down there, we knew we had to ask."
That display? He meant the cavalry?
What exactly were they asking for?
"Caesar, we humbly request that you act as our commander for the upcoming Lusus Troiae."
"The commander of the Lusus Troiae?"
I couldn't help but tilt my head in confusion.
Wait, did he just say...
"You want me to command your team in the Game of Troy?"
***
The Lusus Troiae, or the Troy Game, was a highly celebrated equestrian event frequently held in Rome.
It was a prestigious mock battle where the young sons of the Roman nobility divided into teams to showcase their horsemanship and martial prowess.
In it, riders guided their horses through complex, labyrinth-like courses on horseback and carry out complex formations against the opposing teams.
But as far as I knew, winning or losing wasn't actually the point of the game. It was more of an elaborate ceremonial dance.
So why were they so obsessed with having me lead them?
"We do not wish this to be only a ceremonial game," the young patrician said, his eyes burning with intensity.
"We wish to fight using the exact same methods you demonstrated."
"Yes! If you agree to be our commander, we will undoubtedly..."
"I apologize, but I must decline," I replied in the most polite tone I could muster.
The moment this festival concluded, my father's campaign for the consulship would begin in earnest.
I did not have the luxury of wasting my time on a glorified mock battle.
"But you personally led the campaign against the bandits! If you assist us, we could surely—"
Just as I was about to reiterate my refusal, Pompeia leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"These men could be valuable allies for you, Lucius. Perhaps not today, but they are the Rome's future senators and magistrates."
"That may be true. But I don't have time to waste playing at mock battles right now," I whispered back.
It was true that only the sons of the most elite patrician families were permitted to participate in the Troy Game.
And these particular young men hailed from powerful houses that already supported my father's faction.
Helping them certainly wouldn't hurt me, but...
Wait. Yes, the Troy Game is a mock battle divided into teams.
If that was the case, wasn't this the perfect stage to unveil my new military tools and tactics before the public?
I fell into deep thought.
Up until now, I had primarily focused my efforts on reforming Rome's economy and political order.
I was desperately trying to strengthen the foundations of the Republic so it could withstand whatever storms were coming.
But I couldn't afford to neglect the the military side of things.
Starting with the stirrups I had just introduced, there were countless areas within the Roman military that desperately needed improvement.
And it wasn't just about the technology itself; the tactical doctrines required to make proper use of that technology needed to be established.
Perhaps the Troy Game was an unexpected opportunity.
There was no better way to prove the effectiveness of a new military doctrine than by demonstrating it before the entire Roman elite.
"I'll think about it. Favorably."
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
The young men beamed with joy, nearly crushing my hand as they thanked me before taking their leave.
Once they were gone, I let out a heavy sigh and looked at Pompeia.
"The work truly never ends, does it?"
"From what I can see, it looks like you bring it all upon yourself, Lucius," Pompeia replied with a smile.
"What exactly are you planning to do after the festival concludes? You've already created a new papyrus and used carved blocks to produce flyers. I have a very strong feeling you aren't going to stop there."
I shrugged and settled back into my seat.
She was sharp as always.
Carving letters into a stamp and pressing them onto paper was the most primitive form of printing.
From building actual printing presses to establishing a nationwide postal service, the possibilities were nearly endless.
I had to prioritize my projects if I didn't want to be crushed under them.
I couldn't just recklessly create a dozen new industries at once.
"However, there is something far more important that needs our attention before any of that."
At my words, Pompeia tilted her head in curiosity.
"More important? What is it?"
"Our wedding, of course."
The chaos surrounding the bank run had been mostly settled. There would never be a better opportunity than right now.
It was time to make my relationship with Pompeia official in the eyes of Rome.
"Ah, speaking of the wedding, there was actually a favor I wanted to ask of you, Lucius."
"A favor?"
Regarding the wedding?
There was definitely a mountain of preparations to get through.
"To celebrate our marriage, what if we granted all of your workers several days of paid rest?"
"To celebrate our marriage?"
"Or, you could say it's a reward for their assistance during the recent crisis."
"That's a fantastic idea."
I nodded.
If it weren't for the help of my staff, resolving the bank run would have been impossible.
In the darkest hour of the crisis, they had literally emptied their own pockets to support me.
Granting them a paid rest was the least I could do.
They did not have weekends off anyway.
Unlike people in the twenty-first century, Romans had no concept of weekends.
Maybe I needed to change that too.
"I'm actually quite surprised," Pompeia said, her eyes widening slightly.
"I didn't expect you to agree to it so easily."
At her bewildered reaction, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Just what kind of cruel employer do you think I am?"
***
While the festival continued to roar with deafening excitement, three men sat together in a secluded section of the seats.
Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus.
The fact that the three most powerful men in Rome had officially joined forces was no longer a secret.
Having saved the Republic from the brink of economic ruin, they now enjoyed the adoration of the Roman citizens.
"I believe the time has come for us to begin our discussions in earnest."
At Crassus's words, Gaius Julius Caesar nodded.
"The moment has finally arrived. Let us discuss the future of Rome."
"My apologies, but could we wait just a moment longer?"
"Is something wrong?"
Pompey cleared his throat, his eyes darting back toward the arena below.
He muttered,
"Let's finish watching this bout first."
As Crassus let out a long sigh, another unfortunate criminal was snared by Antony's lasso and dragged across the sand.