Sic Magnus Haec Genem Erat
Non Auxilium Sed Errant
Justinius knew something was wrong in Aquilla the moment they rode through one of its gates.
The morning air was charged with a strange energy. There was the usual hustle and bustle of the city but many of the people spoke in hushed tones or excited shouts. They moved with an urgent speed, looking to arrive wherever they were going as fast as possible. Most people didn’t bother looking at the large group of bedraggled and weary noblemen with their nineteen guards. “What’s wrong with everyone?” asked Ardellius, apparently sensing it too.
“I’m not sure,” Justinius said.
He glanced toward a shop with graffiti on its side. In fresh paint, there were a few words scrawled roughly on it. Horatius not our consul.
Justinius looked at Ardellius. “The elections went well.”
Ardellius laughed. “They always do. Some faction or other defaces the city for a while before they run out of steam.”
Justinius nodded. Still, he felt there was more going on than election results.
***
When Justinius finally arrived home, his thoughts of a warm bath and comfortable bed that had preoccupied him the past few days came to an abrupt end.
His father was standing in the atrium talking with Damianus Humilius in earnest tones. “The time for speeches is over. You made your gamble, you failed.”
Damianus was upset and looked more pale and weary than Justinius had ever seen him. “I should have one last chance to speak on the Senate floor before the vote. My city’s life hangs in the balance. It's only right.”
“The Senate will not care what is right,” said Horatius. “Even my own followers push against my command. They want revenge.”
“Would you make this decision without any investigation?” asked Damianus. “Is there no due process of law?”
“There are witnesses,” said Horatius, “One of which is my son.”
He turned to Justinius who was standing awkwardly in the doorway watching them. He beckoned. “Welcome home, son. Tell Damianus that these rumors of dead Aquillan soldiers aren’t rumors.”
“Father…it's true. But it is more complicated than that.”
Horatius turned back to Damianus. “Our citizen soldiers have been attacked. How would you expect our nation to respond?”
“I beg you, Horatius, in the name of honor itself, grant my request for a final plea to your senate.”
Horatius studied the Carxandrian diplomat for a moment then nodded. “I will support your call. I cannot promise my fellow Consul will allow you the same opportunity.”
“I will speak to him now, before the senate hearing.”
Damianus rushed past Justinius, out the door, and into the street without a parting farewell. Justinus watched him go. “What has happened?”
“A good deal,” said his father. “Come. We must talk.”
Justinius followed his father into the study and sat on the opposite side of his desk, dropping his traveling bag on the floor beside him. “How were the negotiations?” asked Horatius. “Did you learn anything useful?”
Justininius felt a surge of bitter anger. His father never asked him how he was. If he was alright from the attack. Nothing but business. “It went well…until we were thrown out.”
“What did you do?”
“I did nothing,” said Justinius. “A daemones attacked us and they thought we might be responsible.”
Horatius took this in stride, pausing only for a moment at the mention of daemones. “So, the negotiations fell through.”
“Did you hear me say daemones?” asked Justinius. “We were also attacked by bandits.”
“And perhaps more than bandits,” said Horatius. “The truth is unclear. All we have heard is that our soldiers were attacked by Carxandrian rebels and killed and the nephew of former consul, Magnus Conditius.”
“They…what? I saw no evidence they were Carxandrians, though Senator Cato says he heard them and saw evidence they were. And Laurentius isn’t dead. He was only wounded.”
Horatius nodded. “I am glad but that doesn’t help the case. Carxandria is now at the tipping point. The Senate meets today to resolve the matter. I believe it will end in a vote on whether to go to war or not.”
Justinius felt his worst fears confirmed in an instant. He sat up, fear tingling up his spine. “Surely it can’t lead to that already. Damianus is right. There has been no investigation.”
“There are dead Aquillans,” said Horatius. “People demand an answer to this atrocity now.”
“Then they should wait.”
Horatius shook his head. “They will not. As a Consul, I cannot stop this.”
“Congratulations,” said Justinius. “As Consul, I hoped, you had some power to use that could help.”
“We are not tyrants,” said Horatius. “We are still subject to the will of the people and the Senate. This vote is happening today. Go wash and dress in your robes.”
Justinius sat, staring as his father took a parchment and began writing a letter. His father wasn’t going to ask him anything. How he was. What he had been through. There was, apparently, no time. “Is that all, Father?”
“You are dismissed,” his father said, continuing his writing without breaking pace.
Justinius stood and took his bag from the floor. “Is Lavinia home? Perhaps she would be happy to see me return.”
“She is with her mentor,” said Horatius. “Stop acting hurt and do what I have asked. There is little time and the fate of a nation is in the balance.”
Justinius felt the reprimand keenly, both in its delivery and its truth. He bowed and quickly made his way to his room.
***
The senate chamber was beyond tense, it hummed with emotions. Senators spoke in hushed whispers about the room. Many of them ran to fellow senators across the room to engage in group conversation. Occasionally, they pointed across the room to the opposite side and senators cast suspicious looks to the opposition. The moderates were even more chaotic, engaging in heated debates with Antoninus Regististrius in the center of the storm.
Justinius spotted his brother Corbenus already seated in the middle of the lords and he began his walk to him. Halfway up the steps, he heard someone calling his name. “Justinius! Welcome back!”
Justinius looked up to see Virgilus Cantorius descending the steps from the guests' seats, these more crowded than usual with family and spectators. Justinus stopped and waited for Virgilius to meet him. “Hello, sir! How have you been?”
“Sir? None of that ceremony here my friend. We will find little of that today I believe. As to how I have been, I’ve been sitting in my home eating, drinking, partying, and reading. How could I possibly be unwell? The better question is how are you? I hear you were attacked by Carxandrian rebels.”
“Yes, and we lost soldiers, but it's being blamed on the Carxandrians when I saw no proof.”
“Indeed?” he asked, “That is unfortunate as Cato Conditius declares it is so. I hear he has vowed to take the floor to call for the invasion of Carxandria in revenge for the death of his son.”
“What?!” Justinius was stunned. “But…but, Laurentius isn’t dead…”
He glanced around at the populace side but could see no sign of his fellow senator. He had only seen him a few hours ago. What had happened to him? Surely he wasn’t dead.
“I am only repeating what I just heard,” said Virgilus, huffing as he hiked up his toga. “Damned thing. Well, I must hear all the news. Be sure to visit my house as soon as you can so I can hear your strange tales in full detail.”
He retreated back up the stairs with a wave. Justinius barely acknowledged his invitation as he scanned the populace again. Laurentius was nowhere in the crowd and most of the seats had been filled. A sinking feeling hit his stomach and a shiver of dread ran up his spine. Something wasn’t right at all.
Justinius continued scanning the opposite crowd as he made his way to his seat. His brother nudged him. “What are you looking for?”
“Have you seen Laurentius Conditius? The new Consul that came in with me?”
“I don’t think so. I’m more worried about this upcoming vote.”
“Which one?”
Corbenus gave him an incredulous look. “Which one? The one on Carxandria, if we should invade or not.”
Justinius looked at him, suddenly another chill ran up his spine. “That shouldn’t be hard to vote…wait. Did Father tell you to vote a certain way?”
Corbenus turned slightly crimson at the accusation. “I am voting a certain way, yes. You should too. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, how are we voting?”
“He wants to stay out of a war. There are far more urgent matters at home to contend with.”
Justinius breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”
Corbenus looked down at their father. “He’s not cruel, whatever you think. He cares about our nation.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“But his decision was made before we learned about the attack. He may change his mind after almost losing you. He was furious the night he received the news.”
Justinius swung around to look at him, bumping the senator beside him. “Sorry. Wait, he didn’t seem to care at all when I saw him.”
“Maybe he was preoccupied, gods know,” said Corbenus. “We will see what happens when the speeches are given.”
The two settled in as the speaker cracked the staff on the marble floor. “Order. The senate is now in session.”
The double doors closed with a soft boom and the domed room became silent. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, knowing what was to come. The speaker raised his scroll to read, making Justinius roll his eyes at the formality. “The first case brought before the senate is the attack on Aquillan nobility by Carxandrian fanatics brought by Catonus Conditius.”
“A moment, senator,” rang the voice of Horatius. “My fellow consul and I have decided to let the defendant speak first. He has a plea for the senate on his city's behalf.”
Instant mutters split the silence following the announcement. Catonus, half risen from his seat, cast a glance at Rufus Ambitius. The consul nodded in agreement and the mutters echoed louder. “This is outrageous!” yelled Alexus Dignius. “This man shouldn’t be allowed to speak, let alone be within these hallowed chambers!”
“He has a right to speak for his people,” said Rufus. “Do we not uphold the rights of man, including the right to self-defense?”
Damianus walked down the stairs from the observation gallery, hundreds of eyes following his descent. More shouts were heard, both in his defense and against him, and Justinius watched his face closely. Though pale, the man’s face had a majestic detachment from his surroundings. He did not acknowledge the support or the accusations as he stood before the consuls and nodded respectfully to them. Justinius could sense an energy about him. There was resignation, to whatever his fate.
“Consuls, senators,” Damianus began. “I come before you in these dark times with a plea, a warning, and advice.”
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“He wishes to threaten us!” yelled Alexus who was quickly silenced by those around him.
“My people do not have a military,” continued Damianus, ignoring the outcry completely. “Even if we wanted to hire one, you would know about it long before it happened. We have only sought to grow a prosperous nation in peace, reaping the rich bounty of the earth after so many long years of war and conflict. Our people have fought in many wars. We fought the Aequendar alongside your people in the Fair Folk Wars. We fought you when you gained independence. We fought both of you in two other wars of expansion. Now, we are a small nation, no longer the great empire we once were so proud to be. There is no pride left in our people for military might. In fact, we espouse peace and education over all other pursuits, even shaming our military and all those who are inclined to such pursuits. What more could we do to convince you that our people are no longer interested in war? We wish only peace and prosperity.”
“That is not what I have just witnessed,” said Catonus, rising from his seat.
“And why would your people fight?” asked Damianus. “I know you struggle. Your people are struggling. Your resources are drained. The Warathians to your south are no longer on friendly terms with you. Your northern border is flooding with refugees and invaders who come without weapons.”
A loud clap could be heard and Justinius thought he spotted Marius nodding and saying, “Well said.”
“Your people are suffering,” continued Damianus. “Your citizen military shrinks day by day as the people lose their land, their livelihoods, and can no longer afford the arms needed for service. They are not interested in war but in food and how to support their families. You help them however you can but, with fewer citizens, there are fewer taxes and less money to spend to help them. Destitution is the harshest reality to face, my people had to face it at the end of our last war with you when you took much of our wealth as reparations.”
“Our bleak future?” said Alexus, “What point is there to this? You should be more concerned with your future!”
Damianus paused and kept his gaze on the consuls, waiting for the murmurs to die down. “I do not say these things to gloat or pass judgment. There is no purpose to such talk. I simply mean to say that we have suffered what you do. Remember, we were an empire when you were still dealing with the Aequendar; learning their language, customs, and might. From them, you became greater than us. You learned while we repeated our mistakes. Do not repeat the mistakes our empire made.”
“We are nothing like you!” screamed Alexus and many others joined in.
“Quiet, senators!” yelled Horatius. “Come to the purpose of your speech, Damianus.”
“Of course,” said Damianus. “I mean only to say this…we have learned the lessons the hard way. We would help you avoid them! Let us not be enemies. We have wealth to share. There is no need to conquer what can be had as an ally. Our king can be persuaded to place himself as a subordinate to the Aquillan republic as a client state, one that maintains independence in governance and religion while trading and spreading the wealth of our nation to your own. It would benefit all.”
“Shall I tell you about the ‘wealth’ of your nation?” asked Catonus Conditius.
The senator stood now, his face filled with cold loathing that made Justinius grimace. Horatius and Rufus nodded at the speaker. The man cracked his staff on the marble floor and began, “To speak the opposition to the delegate-”
“This is not an opposing debate,” said Catonus, walking into the center of the floor. “This nation does not listen to terrorists and murderers, no matter how honeyed their words are.”
Damianus stood aside as Catonus took the center of the floor. “Consuls, honored senators, I come before you as a fellow senator but also…as a grieving father.”
He turned to Damianus, prowling in a semi-circle around the man as he glared at him. “This man promises wealth. He promises lessons from a dying empire. He promises glory for our nation when his own cannot even deliver. I have seen what his nation is made of. It is a nation of decay. His people have wealth but still lord it over the poor. They squander the wealth on themselves, in petty trinkets and fineries for their own mansions. Their concern is not with their people, but with their own comfort and pleasure. They are an empire without a thought to their future even as their world crumbles around them. Even their king does not procure himself a ‘proper’ heir but holds to his ‘son’ that came from nowhere with no wife to be found. His interest lies in his wine and in his men, not his future.”
“You have pointed out our flaws, as I have pointed out yours,” said Damianus, his composure still present. Justinius noted with some interest that he wasn’t even blushing with shame at any of the statements but seemed resigned to all of them. “Now, what is it you truly have to accuse us of.”
“You claim to be against war,” said Catonus. “But your own people attacked our men, our sons, on the road to Aquilla.”
“Now we come to it,” said Damianus. “What proof do-”
“I have the proof,” said Catonus, “I have men that saw the proof. Our men were attacked by fanatics, members of Carxandria, that held their sigils and called for our blood. They slaughtered our soldiers, citizens of Aquilla before our eyes. My own son…”
Catonus petered out and Justinius felt a sudden lump in his throat. Maybe his son was truly dead. Catonus stood tall and continued, his voice still breaking despite his strong stance. “I held my son’s bloodied body in my arms, murdered by a monster the fiends brought with them.”
He held up his hand and pointed it to the heavens. “May the gods strike dead our enemies! They took my only son, the future of my name and home, and now seek to bargain with us? Shame upon their actions! Gods hear my plea! Let them bleed as my son bled in my arms!”
Murmurs and cries mingled throughout the senate. Justinius sat confusion and fear filling him. What was this man saying? His son was hardly bleeding, they had stopped it before reaching the camp. He hadn’t held him as he died in his arms, or not as far as he had known.
He was lying. But how could he hope to lie and get away with it? His son lived. Unless he no longer did. Fear gripped Justinius’s heart. He felt suddenly like he was in the den of some monster and couldn’t escape.
He wanted to stand. He wanted to call out that this wasn’t true, or couldn’t be. He screamed to stand in his head. His body would not. Fear immobilized him. All eyes would turn to him. He would be accused of siding with the enemy. His father might reprimand him for stepping out of line.
Damianus was speaking again. “I am sorry for your loss, Senator Conditius. But you called them fanatics. If they are, then my government will gladly disavow them and put them to death.”
Catonus let out a bark of laughter. “So you claim, but you don’t know how far from the truth that is. They would not put them to death, for they support them!”
The shouts and accusations almost drowned out Damianus’s one-word answer. “Explain.”
Catonus raised his hands and the room, as if under a spell, fell silent. Justinius wondered if he was in some sort of dream or even a play. “There are countless witnesses, even among our fellow senators, of what else attacked us.”
He gestured to Justinius who nearly shriveled in his seat at the hand pointed toward him. As far away as he was, he felt the flick of every eye to him. Damianus continued. “There was a monster, a creature that was half man, half daemones that attacked us. It killed my son! It drank the blood of our men! It hungered for human flesh. I know that creature. It was part of a cult within your city, the Order of Change. Your king has indulged their actions, even given them special privileges within your city. He supports them wholeheartedly-”
“Then it is the cult you should deal with, not my people,” said Damianus.
“They are your people!” yelled Catonus. “They live in your homes and hold offices in your government. They are…Carxandrians. Consuls and senators, even if these radicals are not officially endorsed by the king, which I doubt, their support in the city, their spread throughout the populace, and their popularity means that Carxandria cannot be trusted. They spawn radicals who hate our people, the loss of their empire, and that we are greater than them. They will seek to attack and overthrow us at every turn while the king and his officials sit idly by and do nothing, worse, support them!”
“You cannot make such an assumption,” said Damianus.
“This man should not even be allowed to speak!” yelled Alexus. “He should be prosecuted and his city eliminated!”
Cries rang throughout the room in agreement or argument. Damianus turned to the consuls, his fist smashing into his palm, as he called out. “Aquillan blood has been spilled. A challenge to our nation has been made! Will we not answer it?”
“Enough!”
The cry rang out loud and clear above all others. Justinius thought it was his father for a moment, so official and militaristic was its character. But then Marius Montinius stepped down from the seats below and entered the circle. “I would speak, consuls.”
“We have no time for your-” began Alexus.
“Did I speak to you?” asked Marius, his voice cracking like a whip. “Senator.” he added as an afterthought.
Mutters began as Alexus cowed back into his seat. Rufus and Horatius exchanged glances and Rufus shrugged. Horatius took charge. “What about?”
“It pertains to this matter, and how it can be resolved.”
The consuls looked at each other in silent communication again and nodded. “Very well, Imperator Marius,” said Horatius. “You may proceed.”
“Consuls, senators,” began Marius, his speech clear and planned. “This debate is as pointless as it is stupid. Both have made valid points. Carxandria is a festering blight that is not to be trusted. But so too is it true that Aquilla is dying from within. Why do you fret about potential invasions by our cuckolded enemies? Our nation is already being invaded.”
“Not this again,” said Magnus Conditius, finally speaking. “You seek to bring the migration of a few immigrants into this all important debate? Aquillan blood is split and you think to bring up petty concerns?”
“Petty?” Marius took a few steps toward the fuming Populace and seemed to stare down the entire party. “You speak of Aquillan blood being spilt? I know of Aquillan blood. I have seen it spilt. Again and again. Each and every year. Our people. Our border guard. Innocent civilians. I have seen hundreds of them die at the hand of invaders sweeping into our land from the north. Oh, but it is a silent invasion. It does not bother the great senators in their houses of wealth and rich lands. So long as your sons and personal guard are untouched, what care you about the blood of our people?”
Angry voices were heard from all around the room and Justinius felt that, for once, the senators were uniting in a common cause. Marius only raised his voice effortlessly to be heard over their complaints. “Our northern border is beset by invaders. If we do not act now to turn them back and cease their endless war up north, it will spill over into our lands. It already has! And you speak of dark magic, I have heard stories to make you forget about half man half daemones.”
“Ridiculous!” yelled Magnus.
“Get to the point, Marius,” said Rufus, learning forward with impatience.
“We should not squander our troops on a months-long siege of a city that no longer holds any significant importance to us except in our long memories. We need them up north to counter the threats. We should march north, beyond the Spicati Mountains, and settle their wars for them. Establish peace in our land and in theirs!”
He could hardly be heard by the end. The shouting had reached such a crescendo that Justinius felt his head pound and his senses become disoriented. He was hot. He felt fear. He couldn’t remove the sense of foreboding hanging over the proceedings. The staff cracked but was ignored. Rufus stood and shouted, “Senators, enough! Let us settle this! A vote, here and now on Marius’s proposal.”
“I do not ask for a vote,” said Marius. “For I know its outcome. I speak to the consuls to act as they should and call for their emergency power to bring this about.”
More shouts. Cries of “dictator” and worse could be heard. Horatius stepped in. “If you will not accept a vote, then we must decline your request.”
Marius stood, finally silenced. The shouting was too loud to hear the exchange between the two men. Justinius watched their faces. His father was calm. Marius grew a shade of red and his face turned to stone. He bowed and turned to the assembly. “Very well, I withdraw my request. But do not expect me to send any troops on some vain siege of Carxandria. They will be occupied securing our border when no one else will.”
He marched from the room then, followed by jeers, laughter, and angry voices. The double doors opened for him and closed behind him with barely a sound. Justinius turned to Corbenus. “Does he have a point?”
“Everyone has a point these days,” said Corbenus, grumpy and sweating. “Let's get this moving. The smell is getting worse in here.”
The staff cracked down and Horatius stood. “You have both made your case, we must move to the vote. The vote is on whether to negotiate with the Carxandrians once again or declare war on them. Speaker, you may begin.”
As he sat back down, the speaker stood and cracked his staff down. “The vote may now begin. All those in favor of invasion, raise.”
Justinius made sure to listen carefully and kept his hand down. He scanned the room. It was frightening to see the number of hands raised. It was also comforting to see the number of hands not raised, especially from the moderates who could easily swing a vote. He waited with anticipation, holding his breath, as the count began. He felt the whole room was holding its collective breath as the speaker seemed to stop and recount. Justinius felt the sweat trickle down his back and leave a rivulet.
The speaker appeared flummoxed as he turned to Horatius, whispering something. Horatius raised an eyebrow then nodded. The speaker turned back to the room. “It would seem that the vote is evenly split down the senate fifty-fifty.”
Murmurs split the room as all eyes turned to the consuls. Justinius looked around in confusion. “What happens now?” he asked Corbenus.
“The consuls cast their votes,” said Corbenus. “It's unprecedented. I don’t remember this ever happening.”
Rufus stood first. “I have no qualms with Carxandria. But they will remain a thorn in our side as long as they remain, a point of contention for our nation and this senate. I vote to remove them. Besides, if they are as wealthy as they say, the spoils of war should help with our coffers.”
Justinius felt himself quake with revulsion while others laughed. He turned to Corbenus. “If father votes no and it remains tied, where does it go?”
“To the courts,” said Corbenus grimly.
“Who makes up the courts?”
“Mostly Populace supporters.”
“So…it's already decided.”
Justinius slumped back in his seat, the life draining from him. Lumina flashed before his eyes. Her city burning. Her brother had failed. The fate she feared was at hand.
Horatius stood from his seat and spoke in a clear voice to the room. “I know my vote means little here, but I would, instead, offer a compromise to my fellow consul and to the rest of the Senate.”
He turned to Rufus. “I agree with you. This issue has plagued our Senate floor long enough. But I do not think a city should be punished for the actions of radicals and inept kings. I would, instead, offer this choice to you and the Senate.”
He turned back to the assembly. His strong stature and stern expression made him look like a statue of some great hero of the past. “I offer this to the nation of Carxandria. We will take control of their city by force, but not destroy it. They will no longer be an independent nation but ruled directly over by the senate and people of Aquilla. How the political structure and governorship work will be determined later. Does my fellow consul accept this proposal?”
Rufus studied Horatius, his expression showing that his mind ran quickly over all the possibilities. Justinius could see it on his fellow senators' faces as well. Greed, ambition, disgust, anger. It was all there. Carxandria, if indeed rich, was a prize to be won for anyone seeking governorship. Rufus nodded. “I do.”
“And does this senate?” asked Horatius.
The speaker took charge again. “The Senate is called on to vote on the new proposal. All in favor, raise.”
Justinius suddenly felt his heart clench. How could he do this? He knew it was the wisest course to take. It would spare their city from being annihilated. It could and would likely save Lumina. But it felt…wrong. He was still condemning a city to be conquered. To vote yes was the lesser of two evils. But was it truly right?
Falehiem’s words spoke in his memory. You know Truth. But maybe he didn’t.
His vision suddenly cleared enough to see his father was staring at him from across the room. Corbenus was too, glaring at him with an intense gaze. Instinct kicked in. He had never been able to disobey his father. His hand lifted, quickly then slowed as his reason engaged. What was he doing? Was this truly right?
The count was taken. It was in favor of sparing the city from destruction. It would be conquered.
An emissary would be sent to Carxandria with Aquilla’s demands. Justinius barely heard any of this. His gaze turned to Damianus, shoulders slumped, gaze searching the room. Their eyes met and held for a moment and Justinius felt his face burn. He was voting for this. He felt sick. But it was for the best?
He found himself back in Falehiem’s presence in his mind. He wanted desperately to push the Aequendar further. “What is truth?” he would ask.
Falehiem had laughed. He said he couldn’t be clearer. “But if you can’t tell me, how will I know?” Justinius asked.
“You will know,” was the kind response.
Justinius felt the lump rise in his throat with the answer. I’m not sure I do.