After assuring his wife that he was now part of a great commercial endeavour, she agreed to let him partake in his secret mission. And too, Cladius thought, although Larius could be unpredictable, he wasn’t as coldblooded as to kill a fellow Itruschian. She had insisted on going, but against quarrels and endless tears, she had let him go alone. As much as he loved her and had never thought of hurting her, departing felt as a gust of fresh breeze.

Cladius packed his stuff and was soon gone, riding on an open wooden chariot guided by six horses through the glorious paths that connected the provinces of the Sacred Itruschian Empire. The journey was long, but not without luxuries. Every couple of nights they stayed at wide inns reserved for senators and merchants. He met some people from the East, even some people from a land they called the Middle Kingdom. They looked like how Far Easterners and the Sons of Hunas were always painted, with broad faces and elegant black eyes. Their hair was raven black, straight like a linen dress and tied in buns over their heads. They dressed in the finest silk he had ever seen. Their alphabet was also unusual, made of elaborate markings. The translator that followed him was a Tocharii. The man had reddish-brown hair, and his face was tan and covered by a beard as red as a carrot. His robe was no less exquisite, adorned with buttons of pure gold and intricate engravings, like any Gadalian. When Cladius heard his language, it resembled the one of the Gadalians and other Easterners, and he figured they had to be a related people. Both men chatted amicably through their stay at the place, never loud or uncaring, but disciplined and proud.

Cladius also met with Ayodhyan delegates, some wearing crowns of pure gold, others with colourful turbans. There, he heard of a religion that had existed for a few hundred years but was starting to spread out. Its participants were seldom merchants, as it preached absolute detachment. Cladius listened, bewildered. The words of the man they worshiped, or rather, revered, resonated with his soul.

Their monks taught that life was nothing but pain, and pain was caused by the desires of wicked men. If there was less desire and more responsibility, things would be better off. It reminded him of ancient Stoicism.

During his travels, he seldom interacted with Larius, who shared his disinterest toward drinking. Larius, however, enjoyed the company of women of all nations and kinds, and the inn arranged for him as he desired.

In one of those quiet evenings, Cladius met one of the solemn men who accompanied Larius in another chariot. A man with a white toga, pale face, and blonde hair. His eyes were blue and small. He sat on the edge of the balcony, examining an old scroll. Larius’ curiosity peaked. The man had not spoken a word since they had met.

“Excuse me, good sire.” Cladius sat on a pillow nearby. “I am afraid we have not been introduced.”

The man seemed to ignore him for a few seconds, or rather, concentrated on finishing the text he was reading.

Cladius cleared his throat, impatiently. He had expected to meet a gentleman.

But the man’s blue eyes suddenly turned toward his. The man lifted his head, and his face remained still. Cladius had not noticed the white scar that passed by his cheek. He was definitely a military type. Between the folds of his robes, Cladius caught a glimpse of something even more intriguing. It was a small golden necklace depicting a winged wheel. Inside the wheel, there was a human figure, with extended arms and legs, its details crude but competent. It did not look like an Itruschian motif, nor did it seem Gadalian, although there was something Eastern about it.

“Florianus Africanus,” the man introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure. I am Cladius Duodecimus.”

“Good,” Florianus responded, and fixed his eyes right back on the scroll.

Cladius squeezed his lips. Did that man hate him? Did he know who he was?

“I apologize if I am bothering you.” Cladius stood up.

“No, it is not a problem,” Floranius responded. As Cladius turned, he noticed the man had not taken his glance away from the text. “I am a stiff man, if you forgive me.”

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“It is not an issue.”

“This might concern you as well,” the man quietly said, lifting his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Cladius asked.

“I received this text from a horse-back mailman just a few hours ago. It is urgent.”

“Urgent? Is it coming from the capital or from Tharcia?”

“Tharcia?”

Why would it concern him? he thought.

“Indeed.” The man put the scroll away, then glanced at Cladius solemnly. “We are facing unexpected resistance.”

“Now that is troubling.”

“Plans might change,” Floranius said, and for an instant, a faint smile appeared on his thin lips. Next to his scar, it made him look strangely sadistic.

“What is it? Was there an incident?”

“It says...” Floranius cleared his throat. “Two soldiers have been murdered by two traitors. That I’ve known for a few days.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Now there’s another one,” he repeated. “A soldier was killed by his wife during his sleep.”

“By his wife?” Cladius asked, peeling his eyes.

“Yes. They found him in bed, lifeless. A blanket had been wrapped around his neck.”

“Did she choke him?”

“I believe so,” Florianus said. “This is upsetting. The soldier in question was a good boy, from a good family.”

“It is indeed a gruesome crime,” Cladius said ironically. “But how did she escape?”

“She planned it well. She managed to fool two soldiers who even inspected the house. She left for the sanctuary and that was the last time she was seen. Her mother found the body and alerted the authorities.”

“Her own mother? I mean, I’m surprised the citizens remain loyal to the Empire, even in spite of their own families.”

“It smells rotten to me,” Florianus scowled. “In any case. This is not acceptable. Back in my day, we would’ve said to hell with it and slaughtered the whole village. Hades! I must suggest that at the committee tonight. To hell with those women. I always knew, their race is warlike, which is good, but… Let’s see what this governor wants to do.”

“My gods...” Cladius said.

“Yes. These women are not to be trusted. You know about the Amazons, don’t you?”

Cladius cleared his throat. He was next to one of those men. The death of a thousand people was nothing to him, but one was a tragedy.

“I have heard of them, but aren’t they merely legend?”

Florianus’ gaze was stern.

“Legends? What are legends but dim memories of an ominous past.”

“Well, I have read the great historian who spoke about them. Are you implying that these women are like Amazons. I mean, they are only women. What can… What could they do to me or you?”

Florianus paused.

“This has happened before.”

“Before?”

“In the Age of Silver, the Amazons were daughters of Ares. They were cut off from their men. They rose up and built a warrior tribe.”

“So?”

“These women, this race of beings are the descendants of the Amazons. These women suffered the same fate aeons ago, and they lived off war, without men. We are giving birth to a race of Amazons once again, and they will drive us out of their land. When their children are born, in hardship greater than they have ever faced, they will rise up. We must not permit it.”

Cladius remained serious.

“Excuse me. Amazons? Even if a massive rebellion were to occur in those villages, is it not unlikely that a group of women, unarmed, untrained, rise up in arms and fend off a legion? Even the ones that did fight fifteen years ago are old mothers now.”

“Their blood is the purest warrior blood in the world. They are born for war. I have seen it. Larius made a mistake. He should have wiped the whole race off the face of the earth.”

Cladius remained silent.

“As much as they have great qualities; they are a threat to our Empire and must be dealt with accordingly.”

Florianus stood up.

“If you excuse me. I will go and write a report,” he continued.

“No problem,” Cladius said, as the man walked back into the villa.

Cladius sighed. His raw emotions dominated him. He felt a cold shiver through his spine. He tightened his fists as a surge of disgust made him recoil in awe and fear.

How could something so hideous be going on? And he was part of it. He felt like a latrine sponge, used and covered in filth. He had to use his power to revert it before something worse happened.