Post by Coconut on May 30, 2009 12:25:33 GMT -5
The glorious, glowing sun shone down on the baking hot earth of Rome, the four hills that made up the great, living city glowing beneath the hot, midday sun. The dusty roads were baked hard as granite, the boots of the soldiers making clouds of dust motes rise in an army far greater than that which had created the Empire that was Rome today. Marcus Scipio Tiberius marched at the head of his men, erect and tall in his posture, almost as if he were already the Emperor of Rome. He had left the city at the break of dawn, accompanied by the men his position as General afforded him. They'd marched until the second hour of the day, arriving at the Oracle's abode on one of the nearby mountains as the sun began to heat up as it did. In armour as they were, the Romans were baking hot, and yet they were used to it. Heat was Rome and Rome was the heat. The haruspices and Oracles were called, and Scipio Tiberius was there to discover his future; his future and what the future held.
Lambs had been slaughtered and livers examined.
The entrails had been spread over the altars and examined, Scipio Tiberius waiting nearby to hear what they held. As much as they were a spiritual exercise, Scipio would make sure the results were edited to his favour before allowing them to be made public; people didn't flock to tales of gloom and doom. Besides, nothing was true these days. Empires were built by a careful diet of restriction and brainwashing. Restrict those who would oppose you and brainwash their children to cry your name and the plebians would roar for you as their Emperor. Rome would roar for you as it's Emperor. They would kill dissenters, build you an Empire, wage war in foreign lands against barbaric tribes, all to defend the Empire and your name. That was power, and the Oracles could help him build it. Rome would, one day, cry his name as Emperor.
Yet he wasn't there yet, and first he had a problem.
The epitome of that problem actually had a name. Spurius Brutus Attilius. Was it not irony that he who killed Caesar who established Rome in it's glorious, powerful form as of today was called Brutus? As Brutus had never succeeded in gaining the sort of power he'd dreamed of, neither would Attilius. He, Scipio, would be Emperor, and bring a new golden age to Rome! There wasn't open fighting yet, but there would be; Tiberius felt sure. He also felt sure he'd win. The results of the Oracles findings and those of the haruspices had been positive, and an Eagle had been seen flying above him; the sacred bird was sure to bring him victory. Had Attilius received such signs? Of course not. The Gods did not love Attilius, not as they did Tiberius. Tiberius was a man of strength, of honour, similar to Mars or perhaps Jupiter himself. But no; he was not on a par with them. No man was. No mortal man. But a Caesar...
That was a different matter entirely.
The interior of the Senate chamber was dark, compared to the bright light outside. It took Scipio time to adjust as his men were sent to their barracks, some to the Campus Martius others to the main city barracks themselves. These may be troubled times, but bringing soldiers into the Senate chamber still wouldn't be allowed. Not yet. The Senate meetings always mad Scipio tired, a bunch of fumbling old men attempting to stop one man taking the reins of Emperor so they could become a Republic again. So they could become a Republic and waste yet more time deliberating whilst the Empire slowly crumbled. No. Scipio wouldn't allow that. There was no chance he'd allow that at all. Great men understood that democracy didn't work; Sulla, Marius, Caesar... They'd defied what was then the Republic, denied overall democracy as it was. Denied it.
Denied it and won.
Somebody would become Emperor; the option of being solely a Republic was no option at all. No one would accept it; Emperors were chosen by the Gods, and if Rome was not endorsed by the Gods then it was nothing at all. The strongest man alive couldn't contest with the Gods. No one could. Prometheus himself had discovered that as he brought fire to the world, Pandora as she defied the Gods will for the box to remain sealed. No man could defy the Gods but for the Gods themselves, and Scipio would keep that in mind in his quest for ruler-ship. There were those things in his life that would always remind him he was mortal; his wife, his children, his house and farm. His background, his history, the events in his life. Those weren't necessarily a bad thing; a good ruler needed to remember where he'd been coming from and what he originally aimed for.
Which was obvious.
Only Titus Maximus Aquilinus, Scipio's second in command, had been allowed to accompany him in here. Scipio didn't wait for Attilius arrival before he ascended to the podium and began his speech; any advantage would be jumped upon by him and his colleagues. "Friends, Romans, countrymen!" Scipio started, using Caesar's line to remind them that he was a man as great. "I'm here today to remind you of the state our city is in, rulerless, without a leader. We need a ruler, for order, for control, and this is not debatable; to be endorsed by the Gods we need a ruler who is endorsed by the Gods, my friends, and we need them now!! Even now the tribes in Germania, Syria, Brittania and the other provinces of the Empire are biting at our edges, whilst inner strife may be the breaking of us! We need a strong ruler, a man of power, of fortitude. I believe I am that man." The question of rulership wouldn't be solved today; it'd just turn into a debate between him and Attilius again, like it had been for months. Only eventual blood would conclude this.
"Actually, I know I am that man."
Lambs had been slaughtered and livers examined.
The entrails had been spread over the altars and examined, Scipio Tiberius waiting nearby to hear what they held. As much as they were a spiritual exercise, Scipio would make sure the results were edited to his favour before allowing them to be made public; people didn't flock to tales of gloom and doom. Besides, nothing was true these days. Empires were built by a careful diet of restriction and brainwashing. Restrict those who would oppose you and brainwash their children to cry your name and the plebians would roar for you as their Emperor. Rome would roar for you as it's Emperor. They would kill dissenters, build you an Empire, wage war in foreign lands against barbaric tribes, all to defend the Empire and your name. That was power, and the Oracles could help him build it. Rome would, one day, cry his name as Emperor.
Yet he wasn't there yet, and first he had a problem.
The epitome of that problem actually had a name. Spurius Brutus Attilius. Was it not irony that he who killed Caesar who established Rome in it's glorious, powerful form as of today was called Brutus? As Brutus had never succeeded in gaining the sort of power he'd dreamed of, neither would Attilius. He, Scipio, would be Emperor, and bring a new golden age to Rome! There wasn't open fighting yet, but there would be; Tiberius felt sure. He also felt sure he'd win. The results of the Oracles findings and those of the haruspices had been positive, and an Eagle had been seen flying above him; the sacred bird was sure to bring him victory. Had Attilius received such signs? Of course not. The Gods did not love Attilius, not as they did Tiberius. Tiberius was a man of strength, of honour, similar to Mars or perhaps Jupiter himself. But no; he was not on a par with them. No man was. No mortal man. But a Caesar...
That was a different matter entirely.
***
The interior of the Senate chamber was dark, compared to the bright light outside. It took Scipio time to adjust as his men were sent to their barracks, some to the Campus Martius others to the main city barracks themselves. These may be troubled times, but bringing soldiers into the Senate chamber still wouldn't be allowed. Not yet. The Senate meetings always mad Scipio tired, a bunch of fumbling old men attempting to stop one man taking the reins of Emperor so they could become a Republic again. So they could become a Republic and waste yet more time deliberating whilst the Empire slowly crumbled. No. Scipio wouldn't allow that. There was no chance he'd allow that at all. Great men understood that democracy didn't work; Sulla, Marius, Caesar... They'd defied what was then the Republic, denied overall democracy as it was. Denied it.
Denied it and won.
Somebody would become Emperor; the option of being solely a Republic was no option at all. No one would accept it; Emperors were chosen by the Gods, and if Rome was not endorsed by the Gods then it was nothing at all. The strongest man alive couldn't contest with the Gods. No one could. Prometheus himself had discovered that as he brought fire to the world, Pandora as she defied the Gods will for the box to remain sealed. No man could defy the Gods but for the Gods themselves, and Scipio would keep that in mind in his quest for ruler-ship. There were those things in his life that would always remind him he was mortal; his wife, his children, his house and farm. His background, his history, the events in his life. Those weren't necessarily a bad thing; a good ruler needed to remember where he'd been coming from and what he originally aimed for.
Which was obvious.
Only Titus Maximus Aquilinus, Scipio's second in command, had been allowed to accompany him in here. Scipio didn't wait for Attilius arrival before he ascended to the podium and began his speech; any advantage would be jumped upon by him and his colleagues. "Friends, Romans, countrymen!" Scipio started, using Caesar's line to remind them that he was a man as great. "I'm here today to remind you of the state our city is in, rulerless, without a leader. We need a ruler, for order, for control, and this is not debatable; to be endorsed by the Gods we need a ruler who is endorsed by the Gods, my friends, and we need them now!! Even now the tribes in Germania, Syria, Brittania and the other provinces of the Empire are biting at our edges, whilst inner strife may be the breaking of us! We need a strong ruler, a man of power, of fortitude. I believe I am that man." The question of rulership wouldn't be solved today; it'd just turn into a debate between him and Attilius again, like it had been for months. Only eventual blood would conclude this.
"Actually, I know I am that man."