Chapter 1: Forthcomings
"Why? What good could come of this?", one young man asked of another, much older elder. The old man sighed heavily, looking out over the city he worked so hard to erect, the sunset cascading golden light from below the horizon over his creation, the mountains' shadows reaching the city limits from the distance. He could not give an answer; not when war so costly was looming in front of his empire.
"It is the rule of Rome, my son. Bring down your foe before the same can be done to you. The Greeks have taken too much territory from the barbarians. They share borders with us, now, Marcus. They've found a door for an invasion. I, in the best interests of the people of New Rome, cannot allow this risk to remain. If you are to take the scepter from my hand one day, you must understand what it means be Emperor." Marcus was quiet in comprehension. He looked below from the estate's balcony, down at the subjects of New Rome that he would one day rule over. The citizens of a republic, so ignorant of just how little their voice truly matters. So ignorant to impending dangers. He would give anything to live a blissful life such as theirs.
"Father, who is to say the Greeks have any such plans as you say they have? No signs from Mars have manifested, the priests have said so themselves. You find it in your best interests to protect Rome, as do I. But there are other ways of ensuring peace. I beg of you, do not let ends justify the means. It would be the route of your father-"
"Do not presume to lecture me!", Marcus flinched imperceptibly. Such an outburst would not be expected from one of an age as his father.
"My father sought wealth through greed and corruption! Now I see corruption comes not from the inside, but rather the outside. The Greeks are to corrupt our subjects with their democratic ways, the boy-lovers! Time will tell if their military is as cunning as their tongues. Diplomacy is of the past, now, Marcus. I bring in diplomacy of might. Flex the vast legions of Rome, and their pathetic hoplite phalanxes will wet the ground with piss! We'll push their borders back to New Athens, no further. I will let the citizens of their capital mourn the loss of tens of thousands of their brothers as their world crumbles around them, then offer them a better life as a citizen of the Second Roman Empire. The last Greeks will willingly come to our side, fully revoking the existence of their pathetic paganist society! The gods will only have one form then, a more powerful form. They will recognize me as the grand marshal of the new world order of Rome, granting me their boon worthy of the court of gods."
Marcus was dumbstruck. His father was succumbing to madness. He was the only one who could convince the old man to do anything, and now he could see he was powerless to stop what his father was to set in motion. He could only stand by and watch.
"And when I die, my son, it will all become yours. The power, the responsibility. Oh, my son, the power. No one will dare utter the name Marcus Atrius Ordius for fear of capital punishment! The world will be yours. With mortals dwindling in existence, this world will belong to the demigods of Rome. The Greeks will never know glory. And you, Marcus, will be my right hand in this greatest of crusades. You will be my great general, leading the legions of loyal soldiers into battle against our foes."
"Father, I've hardly any experience in battlefield tactics." Marcus said. He worried what would become of the men.
"It matters not! My son, you have something that few other generals have: a powerful presence. The soldiers look up to you. You have led them before successfully against the barbaric mortals to the north, and you will continue to do so against the Greeks. They will be more of a challenge than the chaotic savages, but you will overcome them. I have faith in you."
Marcus wanted so to refuse the offer, but he could hear the tone in his deranged father's voice; there was no choice here. He would lead his armies, or he would be executed. Or worse; exiled. His honor was at stake, and he could not refuse the chance to make Rome proud.
"I will lead the armies, father. I will make you, and Rome, proud." The Emperor was delighted. A kind smile spread across his lips, and he took his son by the shoulders, turning him to face the capital of their Empire.
"You are looking at the future capital of the world, my general. I relinquish all military control to you. No operations are to be declared, no rations delivered, no legions marched, without first you approving or giving the order. You will receive the ceremonial full plate of the Great General of Rome, and my sword. Pick any horse you like throughout the land, and it shall be yours. Prepare for war, my son. I say we have only a week at most to plan." Marcus watched the Emperor shuffle into his grand bedroom, heard him call for a maid to draw him a bath. Once again, Marcus took a glance outward at New Rome, a grand city that had been the outcome of generations of turmoil and suffering by the hands of Roman demigods. His greatest fear wasn't losing men; it was losing Rome to the Greeks. He wouldn't let that happen by oath of his life.
He stood there awhile longer, letting the warm summer breeze brush past his features. It wasn't until near midnight that he returned to his grand bedroom, his wife, Aurelia, laying on the bed with her breasts exposed, waiting to receive him. With no emotion, he took her there, glad for the relieving feeling that signaled he was done. He lay next to her, watching the purple silk curtains ripple in the night breeze, the slight whistle crooning him to sleep.