As I was getting older and approaching my 30th birthday, I felt my own iuvenum leave me. Some days ago, I saw a white hair in my beard, on my left cheek and I had Macro use a tweezer to pluck it, all while he was telling me that back in Arcadia it was a sign of virility and respectability. “It is a sign that my time is coming,” I moaned.
"It is a sign of youthful vanity," he replied and then apologized when he realized he had crossed the line. But if anything, I liked his snarky comments. They showed that his servility was something recent and that he used to come from a middle- to high-class environment before his vices brought him down. Mother tried her best to make him a model servant. She sometimes withheld food or even resorted to beatings, but it never worked.
“It’s a sign that I am transforming into my father,” I say, thinking of his greying beard and hair around the temples.
“Your father may be extremely severe and tough at times, young dominus, but I can’t say he isn’t an example to follow,” I replied back as he approached my face and checked to see if he saw any other grey hairs. “No need to worry anymore, young dominus, for you now look like the male avatar of Juventus,” he said and I looked at him a bit insistently, as I knew he meant it sarcastically, but at the same time, he said it with such a meek tone that even my mother would be proud of him.
“I’d rather not comment,” I moaned and rolled my eyes.
There was another thing that I felt was changing, and that was in regards to my body too. I knew I was violating a lot of recommendations from ancient and current philosophers on their talk about moderation, but ten years ago, I used to be able to eat and drink like there was no tomorrow, keeping my stomach flat with no issue, and gaining muscle in the palaestra easily. Today, I felt it was a harder and harder thing to do, even if I spent more time in the palaestra than ever.
Tomorrow, I will have to go through the ceremony where I’m being conferred the title of Aedile, as part of father’s machinations, where he seemed to want to go to Sestinum and take his place in the Imperial Senate. When he told me, in the aftermath of Marsus’ visit that he will take on his proposal, I really hoped he will take me with him, but no. He wanted me to remain here and replace him in his duties as Aedile and member of the provincial senate. As much as I felt disappointed when he told me this, two weeks ago, now, I felt ambivalent about it all, because as much as I would have loved to return to the great city, I felt it was finally my chance to break it into politics and have the whole weight of the name Segia behind me.
I decided to take Macro with me and go to the thermae, for a final preparation, so I can ensure I looked my best for it all. The city calmed down after some of the agitation by the Fiery Hand some weeks ago, so we walked with no issue from the villa to the forum, where the baths were situated. As we reached the facilities, I paid for Macro too, because I wanted some company, even if at times his snarky comments would annoy me, but I was used to them and you could see he was educated, so he could make decent conversation too. I decided to go first to the Palaestra, because I wanted to do some exercises, to feel my muscles tonify a bit.
There were few people in general at this time of the day, to my surprise. The palaestra was the gymnasium of the thermae. There were some bars where one could exercise, a piscina where some could swim and some racks with wooden swords and shields where people could practice fencing. I did some push ups and then used some rocks that were there for chest pushes, followed by some pull ups. After about an hour, I stood down on the edge of a piscina, barely catching my breath, when a small group came in the palaestra. A man who seemed extremely familiar to me was leading them and the other seemed about the age of Durans or Felicia, my younger siblings. The man, with dark red hair and freckles, was quite muscular and only when he started talking, I recognised him from his voice, because of how much he changed from when we were younger.
“Felix Ignius,” I say, more to myself as I continue looking at them. Felix, the man, ordered the three teenagers that were with him to get some of the wooden sword and shields and began explaining to them the importance of using the shield not just to protect yourself, but rather to attack too. Macro didn’t say anything but I could see him turn inquisitively to me.
“He comes from Uladia. They were a significant patrician family there, but they lost everything when father was recalled by the senate from the island and then the senate abandoned the Diocese entirely. They fought and worked with father there, fending off Deiran raiders,” I explained and Macro nodded.
“Dominus Ursinus always made sure to reward loyalty,” Macro commented and I nodded. Felix took a wooden spatha, the longer, more modern type of sword, rather than the archaic short gladius, and a shield and then invited all the other to try to fight him.
I followed them some time in which I could see the young ones weren’t following that much the recommendations they were given, most of them just using that shield to block Felix’s attacks at best and at worst acting like the hard holding the shield was paralyzed. It was only when he was losing his patience that he bashed each of them with the shield that they forfeited because they were losing their footing.
“Come on! You need to be aggressive, don’t let the adversary dictate the tempo of the fight!” he was telling them, but it wasn’t really working. I looked at them closer. One was so scrawny that the whole shield felt too heavy and big for him and the sword looked hilariously out of place. Felix seemed to be losing his patience with them, and this really brought back memories when we were younger than the teenagers he was training now and he was as hot headed back then too. He turned around, desperate and then we made eye contact.
“I can’t believe it!” he yelled as he put down his shield and spatha, to the surprise of his trainees. “Quirinus Segius!” he shouted as he approached me and Macro and I rose to greet him.
“Salve, Felix!” I extended my hand to salute him, but he pulled me into a full hug.
“How have you been, old friend?! I haven’t seen you in ages,” He exclaimed, still surprised to see me.
“Good in general, Felix. Graduated from the Quintilian and the military academy in Sestinum, but after that didn’t do anything special,” I said and he laughed with a knowing face.
“The old bear didn’t let you approach his political playground?” he asked, laughing, which also made me laugh, even if it shocked Macro. It was one of the few times when people dared to talk like this of my father, especially to the face of a Sergia.
“You remember him, always pushing us to follow him, but never trusting us,” I moan and he laughed. Felix nodded, smiling.
“How have you fared?” I asked him back. The smile on his face turned sour for a bit.
“So and so… I don’t know if you know, but both of my parents died, after you left for the Universitas,” he said, shrugging, but giving a forced smile.
“What happened?” I asked, remembering that his mother was sickly and very skinny, but his father was big and strong.
“Mother died of consumption, and father…” he paused for a bit, searching for the right words. “… he decided to go by himself into the world of Sol,” he added. “It seemed there was no place in the Sestinian Empire for a vicar without a diocese, and the imperial senate clearly showed him there was no political life for him anymore. With no wealth, no homeland, no wife… he decided to rush the ending,” he added with a bitter tone.
“Sol, damn the Senate!” I said, cursing them. I was little when father left for Uladia to keep away the Deirans, and about ten when he came back and I do remember the great shame and sense of betrayal and defeat he felt when he was recalled only to see the Diocese abandoned as he felt he was winning the war. Remembering that, I tried to imagine how heartbroken he would have felt if it was Ebria instead of Uladia and without mother’s support. I nodded in understanding of the plight of gens Ignia. “And what about you?” I asked him.
He just shrugged. “Went in the army for a while, but then I broke my contract as I foolishly followed some idiots who said mercenary work is better. Got some contracts to defend some border towns in Secuania against Varinian raiders, but it was worse than in the army, as the pay was bad, the unit was nearly anarchic, and the danger was worse, so I decided to leave that too. I couldn’t return in the army, without paying a fine, because I broke the contract, so I came back to Vallum and found work. Now I train some of the children of the local patricians,” he explained. I wanted to talk some more with him, but as the younglings were getting rowdy, he nodded that he has to return to them.
“You should come to visit us, I’m sure father will be happy to see you,” I said. Felix nodded, accepting the invitation. He turned back to the kids, raising his wooden spatha to resume their training. I went inside with Macro, going quite quickly through the tepidarium, caldarium and then frigidarium.
“Is everything alright, young dominus?” asked Macro was we got our clothes back, in the apodyterium, the cloakroom, where we got our clothes back.
“Yes… I think,” I responded a bit staggered. “I’m just thinking of the Ignia. Cunomorinus Ignius was a tough soldier if I remember him right. It just took me by surprise hearing that he committed suicide,” I said and Macro nodded thoughtfully.
We went back home, walking silently, reaching it just before the cena. Mother was giving Felicia Minor a speech on the importance of being a strong woman, and how she needed to understand her role as a Sestinian woman in our society: in public, be meek and supportive of your husband; in private, understand that you have the very least the same weight as the husband. As the old proverb said: “A man may think he is the head of the world, but in the privacy of his home, he has to choose: be strong or be happy.” We were served some puls, the grain porridge, with some meat and wine. I told father of how old Ignius ended, who nodded that he knew, and that he was okay with Felix visiting as he was like part of the family, and not long before, we went to sleep, as early in the morning, the long-awaited ceremony was to take place.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I could barely sleep, from a mixture of excitement and anxiety. I used to be fascinated in reading of the laws, speeches and policies from politicians who governed back when Sestinum was but a fraction of what is today and the world wasn’t ours to rule over. In the Universitas, I felt invincible, and couldn’t wait to see myself on the floor of the Imperial Senate, giving a speech like the Dictator Geminus, or a consul of old, playing the old senators like a fiddle with my words, raising to their applauses, but now, when I finally get this chance, I could feel a certain fear creeping unto me.
“It is a sign of maturity,” father said when I first told him of this anxiety. This was right after Marsus’ visit, when he proposed to me the role of Aedile and his replacement in Ebrian politics, so that he can go to Sestinum.
I woke up, washed my face and changed in an elegant tunic, over which I put a chamlys, the fashionable eastern style poncho. Autumn was upon us, and the mornings and evenings were cold, while the midday was still hot. I couldn’t eat breakfast, so while the others enjoyed some bread with cheese, I for one was just rememorising all the gestures, speeches and fates of the politicians which I spent so much time reading about in the past 15 years. When Juba, father’s Tingitanian secretary arrived, it was a sign that we had to go to the Solarium, for the ceremony.
Our party, made of me, father, Juba and Macro was escorted by the four lictors that Father had as part of his position, which starting today will become my own escort. We went through Via Larga, through the morning hours, as merchants in their tabernae were opening their workshops, through the carts which were going up and down, from the port through the northern gate towards the other towns of the Diocese of Ebria and even farther to Secuania.
In the forum, we stopped for a bit in front of a crowd that was waiting on the grain dole, a welfare system where officially, about the tenth worst off families would receive subsidised grain rations, to survive and aid them in saving money, as providing for food was the world’s greatest expense. With the problems the empire was facing, the whole scene devolved into a scandal, as barely a half of the expected recipients received their dole. The lictors were trying to push us, to go past it quickly, but the image of the people shouting and yelling that they need the aid, made contrasted with the imagine in my mind of the marbled Senate building in Sestinum, and the speeches of the ancient politicians and their way of playing the plebs to their own ambitions.
“Don’t be impressed,” Ursinus said as he observed that I was staring at the scene. “If you fall into the trap of trying to aid everyone, you will aid no one and make it worse for everyone,” he added.
“The plebs do need help, though,” I replied, as the lictors were doing their best to get us back on the move.
“They do, but we need to ensure the Empire exists first,” Ursinus responded. “After that, we can deal with that too,” he added. I sighed.
“Sometimes, we are blinded by the wide image and can’t see the realities on the ground,” I said, though it was more of a rhetorical comment. Ursinus looked at me for a bit as we were crossing the forum. He opened his mouth for a few times, as if preparing to say something, but in the end he just shrugged.
“The dole, and the alimenta, are all coming from the state treasury. You need to understand that the Empire is a body and Sestinum is its heart. If the heart is ill, the whole Empire suffers. Unless we ensure everything is functional in the senate and the imperial politics, there is no way to aid these people,” Ursinus said as he continued his march implacable.
“The municipality could help them,” I muttered.
“They forgot the tough conditions in which our state was born. They forgot what it meant to be Sestinian. Back in the day it meant that you are resourceful enough to make due with what you have. It meant that you are a real man and accept what life throws at you, stoically, while building upon that,” he continued.
I looked at him, and I felt something breaking within me. “You have spoken like a real general,” I said. He looked back, and to my surprise, instead of understanding that I said it disapprovingly, he smiled, very proud of himself. The words of an ancient philosopher came to my mind: “A healthy society is born when the children respect their parents, but when they grow up and have their own family, are mature enough to look back to their parents and understand their mistakes.” I felt this was such a point. Father was a military man. He was developed in such a way in which he thought that if you throw at the people enough orders, enough banners, enough discipline and enough victories, you formed a successful society. Geminus, on the other hand, was a people’s man. Five centuries ago, he was enlightened enough to offer them bread, circus and victories and was successful enough in making the people forget that he was a dictator who ignored the expiration of his term in office, making him one of the most popular politicians ever.
“If we continue to be optimates, we will lose… we need to be populares,” I said, referencing the wars of the dictator Geminus against the senatorial patricians. Father didn’t catch the reference or outright ignored me. As we continued walking, I turned to Macro and he smiled and gave me a wink. He heard me. He understood, but he was from a completely different social stratum. An Arcadian merchant with decent wealth, but who lost it all through gambling and had to sell himself in slavery to pay off his debts, of course would understand. A patrician and a career soldier with a stiff upper lip wouldn’t.
We stopped in front of the Solarium, where the priests were waiting for up. If there is something that was kept from the old days of republican Sestinum, it was the fact that politics were religious. Back in the day, Concordia, the goddess of societal peace was the most respected of the goddess in politics. Today, such paganism was frowned upon, but the legacy of politics and religion working together was kept, for there was no change in politics without the blessing of the solar priests. That is why we were at the Solarium, for the ceremony of my investiture, and for my blessing.
Juba and Macro waited for us outside, as both Father and I went up the stairs of the Solarium, through a path made by the priests, each of them positioned on every 2nd step, and the lictors which were behind us.
As we entered, I could smell the incense that was burning from the innumerable candles and oil lamps inside the grand temple, under the gaze of the marble statue of Sol, painted to look like an Ebrian man, with its olive skin, dark hair, black eyes and the scarlet toga around him, showing a powerful image, like a stern, but dutiful and just father.
In the center of the naos, stood two chairs, on which both me and Father were seated. The Pontiff, one of the five of the imperial religion appeared from the altar, as the rest of the clerics, forming a chorus started to sing an hymn. The song lasted for a few minutes, but I couldn’t really follow it, as the eastern, Orontide and even Sakan influences that could be seen in the solar religion all three nations shared, influenced the singing style, and while melodious, it felt like a lament in which all the syllables were extended so much that it felt impossible to even understand what they were saying. When the chorus stopped, the Pontiff stood in front of us, wearing a grand candle and a censer, from which the perfumed smoke was rising.
“Sol Invictus, Optimum, Maximus! – Sun, the Unbeatable, the Best, the Grandest! bless your two servants, Flavius Sergius Ursinus, Aedile of Vallum, Hero of Uladia, Protector of Sestinidad and his successor, Quirinus Sergius Lepidus, his son,” he said in a melodious tone that felt like it was in conflict with his rasp voice. He was wearing rich long robes and had a beard that went down to his chest. I smirked at how many titles they added to Father, but I was left to be described just as his son. Father looked at me with a disapproving gaze, which made me stop.
“For years, the right honoured Flavius Sergius Ursinus has cared of the people of Sestinum and Ebria in general and the citizens of Vallum in particular, and now, the time has come, to pass the torch to his son. May he be blessed by Sol, the Divine, the Great! May he have risen to the expectations and have accomplished his duties, showing Sestinitas, Pietas, Auctoritas and Virilitas, as expected from a noble man of his position. May the valour of his Aedileship pass on!” the Pontiff proclaimed as the chorus started singing again and as two clerics came closer to burning incense whose smoke they were pushing towards Father.
After the next hymn ended, they turned and made a circle around me. “Sol Invictus! Optimus! Maximus! Bless the new Aedile, Quirinus Sergius Lepidus! Made him serve the people justly, make him show pietas and respect his position! Make him understand that Sestinidad in Vallum depends on him, his piety and his character!” he proclaimed as the chorus started singing, while other priests started chanting: “Sol Invictus, Optimus, Maximus!” Again and again as the hymn went on.
For the next hour, the Pontiff alternated between chants, hymns and prayers, until, at the very end, he brough a small cup filled with blood. He soaked his hand in it and smeared it on my face, after which he slapped me. “This is to remind you, that we are all the servants of the Sun! Should be go against its preachings and turn against the natural laws, we shall be punished,” he proclaimed. “Sestinitas! Pietas! Auctoritas! Virilitas!” the chorus chanted and then began singing another hymn, during which the bell in the tower behind the Solarium could be heard ringing. After this apogee, the ceremony war over.
“Rise now, Quirinus Sergius Lepidus, Aedile of Vallum!” Proclaimed the Pontiff and I gestured by Father to raise. After one last blessing, we went outside. The fresh air outside felt like escaping from a cave, as the interior of the Solarium felt overbearing.
“How was it?” Juba asked after we walked out the grand temple.
“As always! Hard to breath and noisy,” moaned Father, making Juba laugh, but then he turned to me to see my own take on the ceremony.
“Something else…” I replied, being the only thing I could think of.
“It always is the first time. Wait for a few years when you become an Imperial Senator in Sestinum. The ceremony will be the same but somehow last for the whole day,” Father said. “I will need to meet with Marsus at the villa of his in-laws, here in Vallum and I would like to take Juba with me. Would you be fine if I let you go to the Administrative Palace and commence your duties there with Macro?” he asked and I nodded. “The Harvest Festival for the Autumnal Equinox is approaching. I made some preparations for it already, but it should be organised under your name,” Father said as he turned and nodded towards Juba to leave for their own duties.
After saluting Father, I turned to Macro and the lictors. “Let’s get going, then,” I said. We started crossing again the Forum, which was much more crowded now, but in my mind, the image from before, with the crowd promised their food aid and not receiving it remained in my mind.
“Macro, you’re well read, right?” I asked as we were walking. He looked at me, unsure what to say.
“Relatively, dominus,” he said, shrugging.
“Do you know of the politician Geminus and his nephew, Aelius?” I asked. He looked at me with plain eyes, not showing any emotion, but after a few seconds, when I met his gaze, I could see he made some wide eyes.
“Dominus, no…” he muttered.
“When Geminus was assassinated, Aelius wanted to be understood by the people of Sestinum as his successor and their protector,” I recalled.
“True, dominus. Aelius paid the people of Sestinum a huge sum, wages for a whole year to everyone, but Geminus was the richest man ever,” he replied with a meek voice and I could feel he was trying to discourage me.
“Yes, but while times have changed, politics are the same,” I said, thinking of potential financial ploys.
“Dominus, with all due respect, you don’t have the money Geminus had,” Macro decried and I nodded thoughtfully.
“I don’t, but we will start small, unlike Aelius and Geminus,” I said, already planning my entry into politics, with the same bang, even if a little bit smaller.