Pax Romana

Intresting message from Socrates. What are you researching next? Nationalism would seem a bit odd in light of that, but I trust you could do it. Oh, and nice to see that Caligula didn't kill Mia. Very pleasant surprise.

Hmm perhaps the miners will revolt in light of their unhealthy working conditions.

Perhaps Socrates will help instigate a revolt from monarchy to republic. That would be fitting.

silver 2039 said:

Hmm perhaps the miners will revolt in light of their unhealthy working conditions.

Click to expand...

Maybe. I wonder if Nero is going to be a disillusioned miner. Btw, does anyone know how to spell that word for "black-lung disease"?

To Dachspmg

Pneumoconiosis

Sapa-Inca Cucochuti stood proudly in the cavernous chamber, pointing to the rows and rows of dusty shelves stretching deep into the heart of the humongous library. “This is the culmination of hundreds of years of pain staking research, my brother Sapa.” He swept his arms wide, trying to embrace the entirety of the room. “Historians and wise men and great thinkers alike would congregate here; share their thoughts, their musings, their wishes and whims with one another.”

Caesar looked around, his expression polite but tinged with a hint of sadness. The Incan master library was indeed grand, a more imposing structure devoted to the accumulation of knowledge he had never heard of or seen before. But the place was from a different era altogether. Its shelves were crammed with ancient scrolls moldering from decades and centuries of unuse. Vermin could be heard squealing their way along the darkened corners, surely stripping the fragile papyrus down one sheet at a time to line their warrens under the warped floor beams.

Although once grand, the mighty structure had fallen to ruin; forgotten by not only those outside the beleaguered republic the Incans still struggled to maintain, but also by the very citizens it was once meant to educate. The mahogany doors, the sculpted shelves, the decorated walls served as a curiosity and a casual attraction to the current day traveler to the Incan capital and no longer as the final leg on a journey towards fulfillment and education it once embodied itself to be.

Cucochuti was giving the Roman an expectant look, waiting for Caesar to remark at long last on what he still believed to be a pinnacle of Incan ability and wonderment. Smiling broadly, Caesar clapped his hands together; “It is exactly as you described it to me, Cucochuti. The sight of it fills my heart with awe.” He bowed his head respectfully, “I am honored to have been allowed to partake of any aspect of it, honored host.”

The Sapa-Inca beamed. “I am pleased, brother king.” Steering Caesar out of the moldering hall and back into the bright glare of the late summer sun, Cucochuti continued. “I am most happy that you have made the long trip out to see me. I will be honest, I didn’t expect you to come at my request.”

“Say nothing of it. I have long wished to come here so you have indulged a wondering man’s fantasy.”

“Hmm.” Cucochuti walked a few paces more, seeming at odds and unable to bring forth the words that he most wanted to say.

“Is, something on your mind?” Caesar asked.

“Actually, yes.” He sighed. “I am most troubled with the loss of Basra to the heathens that plunder the eastern provinces of my land.”

“I had heard.”

“I was wondering, why have not the Roman people come to our aid as of yet? I did entreat you to do so some years ago, but still you have not ridden up with you ships, your horses, and your cannons. I was wondering…why?”

Caesar grimaced, chewing on his bottom lip. “War is a difficult thing, brother king. It is not the province of a single man to decide to march to it or not. There are many reasons that have kept me and my people from entering the field, but none of them will bring you succor or comfort. Trust me when I say though, that if I was indeed able to do so and ride out to your salvation, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

Cucochuti nodded sadly. “It is as you said; it brings me no comfort.” He sighed again, a mournful sound the appeared to drain the strength out of him. “I am saddened to be sure, but am still happy that you are trading much needed iron to us. It would be better if the herds were not also taken by the ones you label the Saracens, but still, pikes and spears and plates of steel can surely stem the tide of the Arabian riders from plundering our heartlands.”

The Roman monarch worked his jaw, not liking the taste of the conversation on his tongue. He snapped his fingers. “Perhaps there is something we can do,” he said.

“Such as?”

“What if I were to sell you some Andalusian steeds from our own herds? A finer breed of horse you will be hard pressed to find, I assure you of that.”

Cucochuti shook his head. “You are too kind, but there is little money left in our coffers to make such a trade possible.”

“Then take it as a gift.” Caesar smiled broadly. “Even if I am unable to march beside you during your time of trouble, I can at least support you while you fight your way clear.”

“That is indeed a kingly gift!” The Incan replied, eyes wide with surprise. “I am loathe to accept it. We are not beggars seeking scraps and cast offs.”

“Don’t be too proud, my friend,” admonished Octavian. “I am not arming you nor am I dispatching mercenaries to fight your battle for you. I am only evening the playing field so to speak, and giving you the chance to reclaim what was once properly yours.” He held his hand out imploringly. “Won’t you accept my gift as well as my hand of friendship?”

Cucochuti looked down, his fingers twitching as he struggled to come to grips with what was just offered. He made to move on, then stopped and shuffled his feet. Finally, he raised his gaze to meet Caesar’s and grinned weakly. Taking Octavian’s hand, he shook it firmly. “I will not look at a gift for flaws when it is freely given to me.” He smiled broader. “I don’t know how to repay you for what you have done for us, my friend.” He bowed low and graciously, paying thanks and homage to the Roman monarch.

Caesar bowed in response, feeling strangely pleased with himself. “Enough of this,” he said with a laugh. “This is not becoming for either one of us. Tell you what I would like though…”

“What would that be?”

“I would like another visit to your concert hall and another bottle of that liquor you had opened for me this morning.” Both men laughed long and hard, walking through the sun dappled streets of Cuzco back towards the royal pavilion of the Sapa-Inca.

Keep it up V. The story is as enthralling as ever. I doubted that you could make it interesting through out the IA but you've don a fine job of keeping my interest. That's saying somthing. I have the attention span of a A.D.D. squirrel on crack.

V,
This story is outstanding. The other night I watched a Pepsi commercial on TV. It was knockoff of the movie SPARTACUS were the Roman Centurion asks for Spartacus to revel himself after the rebels had been captured. I could have sworn he said "Spacarus”….

Ah, those poor Inca. But I bet Rome will intervene once they've got a good rail network in place.

Also, your thread has exceeded 1000 posts. Congrats, Vanadorn!

“So a flanking maneuver is when you engage a unit on either side away from its facing position.”

“Very good, Caesar,” Agrippa said. “Very good indeed.”

“I should hope so,” the Queen Andromeda said, digging her fingers into Caesar’s ribs playfully. “All he’s done is pour over his father’s school notes and texts for weeks on end in an effort to impress you.”

The General laughed. “That is backwards, your highness. It is I that should be impressing him.”

“And up until this day, I thought a flanking maneuver is when you actively cut a piece of pork off the suckling’s side,” Octavian smiled, grabbing his wife’s hands with his own and pulling her closer for a short kiss. “But seriously, getting back to this, I want to make sure I understand this perfectly. I don’t want to look like a moron during the next meeting with the senate.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “You and the damned Senate,” she huffed mockingly. “Do not let them control you and you won’t be so much in fear of them. You’re too damn nice and giving.”

“I can’t help it. Besides, would the people be happier if I was a tyrant or something? There is an undercurrent as of late amongst the plebian. Nothing dangerous or seditious, but a general feeling of unhappiness.”

The queen blew noisily. “Right. And you have your finger on the pulse of the people. Please,” she laid her hand on his arm. “You’re a good man and fine husband, but you really need to have a bit more of a backbone with the Senate. Also, don’t listen to everything that comes across your desk likes it’s from the mouth of the Oracle. Sometimes a report is just that, honey, a report.”

Agrippa nodded. “I can’t disagree, your majesty. Some of your concessions with the council and the house have been overly generous. It’s a dangerous precedent you’re setting. It makes the next request that much harder to refute.”

Caesar sighed. He folded his hands behind his head. “I know. I know. Every time I am faced with one of these dilemmas, I keep taking the kinder road out of the thicket of choices.” He shook his head. “ Alright. Next time I will hold my ground. No more…wishy-washy.”

“Dear, you’re a king. Don’t use the term wishy-washy again; it’s demeaning.”

The trio laughed together. The sunlight was streaming across the floor, warming the tiles with the late afternoon heat; giving the chamber a cozy feel and glow as the three of them returned to Octavian’s preparation for the Senate hearing later. It was during the discussion about reinforcements that Caesar pursed his lips, pushing back from the books to stare thoughtfully into space.

“Something on your mind, my lord?” Agrippa asked.

“Just wondering.”

“About?”

“Well, the Incans have been asking for aid against the Saracens for some time now, but frankly, I have been unwilling to commit our forces to this cause.”

The General nodded. “Go on.”

“It’s a matter of logistics and costs, to be sure; but also I can’t say that I trust the Incans in this matter. We have had periods of conflict between us before, regardless of their current disposition. What’s to say that we do ride in and join the battle, only to find after we’ve taken the pressure off the Incans that they pull out?”

“That they can do. If you remember, the same thing happened to the Egyptians from the Saracens during the 2nd Egyptian War.”

Caesar smiled. “Exactly. Perhaps if there were some formal declaration, it would be better. At least it would take the concern from either myself or the Sapa-Inca that wither or both of us would be seeking to protect one another. Mutually beneficial, I can’t imagine why or how anyone would be able to back out of it; not without seriously damaging their reputation.”

“Some countries don’t have much regard for their reputation, my lord.”

“There is that.” Octavian idly played with the edge of the tome he was reading. “I can’t imagine any self respecting Roman ever behaving like that, but then again, the world is not Roman is it.” He made to chuckle but stopped himself, a guilty look crossing his face.

Andromeda looked up, frowning. Lowering her needlepoint, she asked, “What is it dear?”

“Just something I had read in my father’s journals, that’s all.”

She waited a moment. Eyes flashing, she flicked her hands up. “Well? Are you going to make us guess?”

“My father wrote about something he referred to as Pax Romana.”

“Pax Romana?” she repeated. “Roman Peace? What is that?”

Caesar glanced out the sun-streaked window to the green courtyard beyond. “It’s a belief that the world will never know peace unless all of Rome enforces it. Supposedly he got the terminology from his father and so on back through the line. Kind of a…manifest destiny, a calling and onus that all kings need to adopt.”

Andromeda merely stared at him, her expression soft and sympathetic. “Don’t worry dear. You just do what’s right and that should be good enough for everyone involved.” Absently, she picked up her handicraft and returned to her needle and thread.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward again to continue his reading. Only Agrippa noticed the troubled expression on the young king’s face.

Moving closer, he whispered, “Not all peace is achieved at the end of a sword, my lord. Always keep that in mind.”

Octavian looked up, smiling thankfully at his General, a resolutely nodding once before resuming his studies once more.

ok, reply time:

Silver: Mia dosn't know and how would she find out unless either Octavian or Traysellus says something?
Dachs: Catholic? Nope. Zeus is the one god here, monothesim just happened and the other god's fell out of favor.
Communisto: Thanks! I didn't even know you were reading this!
Albow: Thanks! Gotta start the seeds of revolt early. Actually, they started with Niccolo and "The Prince" but those are really early seeds.
Mewtathio: Nationalism comes in many form. And I have other plans for Mia.
Silver (2): Miners have it rough, and it's only going to get worse before it gets better.
Willow: Socrates just wants to teach and get the message out, man. Gotta look beyond the here and now, dude.
Dachs (2): Nero will come in due time, just have to wait and see from where.
Yellow: Thanks! I've gotta use that word somewhere!
Mistfit: Glad you're still here. There's a few from the early replies that I am still pleased to see reading and replying (you, barb, smellincoffee, deleted scenes, etc..). Just stay with me.
Capt Bob: If they did, I never saw a single cent from that!
Hooray: Trying to help them out. I'm sure everyone's done it, kept some faltering civ in just to keep them alive (hell I did it with the Zulu's earlier). Iron for super cheap and horses were for free.

As to the size of this thread: over 1000 posts long! I was originally scared when Thunderfall put a limit and moratorium on civ threads @ 3000 postas and non civ threads longer than 1000 posts; wanted to have a thread end and a new one start. I wrote him, nervous because where do stories and tales fit in to this breakdown? He assured me that I have nothing to be concerned about and the Tales section is primarily a civ topic so unless I top 3000 posts, we're ok here.

Thank you to everyone who reads, supports, and comments on this thread. It has been a great 1000 post journey and I hope that you'll all stay with me to the end. More in a bit or tomorrow (we'll see).

V

Just took a look - I actually have a longer thread than the "funniest thing the computer has said" thread and the 'Celtic peace keepeers' ! That's just too...weird

“The only way you’re going to truly understand it is to go out there, strap on a breast plate and a rifle, and get shot at and stabbed during the heat of battle,” Socrates was tapping impatiently on the slate board propped up in the front of the class room. The students had quieted down, some in shock at the bold statement the short and homely teacher had just said. He lowered his pointer and swept the tiered room with his piercing gaze. “None of you have any idea what actually went on to ensure that you could sit here today, happy and content and spoiled and free.”

The day was already shaping up to a poor one. The windows were stuck closed, painted shut accidentally during the winter months, so the unseasonably hot day and the lack of ventilation was making the crowded chamber even more unbearable. Tempers were growing short, but none seemed to be as frayed and tattered as Socrates’ were.

“Do any of you have any idea what had occurred to this country before you had crept out of your sheltered lives of riches and plenty and came grudgingly to this school? Does anyone here know what the word sacrifice and honor is, besides worth four points if spelled correctly during the written portion of a test? Much has happened to this country and to the people that make up this country and for too long, it has been marginalized and overlooked by you, the current generation of young people.”

“The day will come when you go out into the greater world and make your mark on things. You might be a day laborer or a cobbler. You might work on a farm, a plantation, a winery, or the Senate. You could run your family business or start your own. There is no limit to what you can achieve once your time here is finished and over; but you should always keep in the back of your minds what had to happen to all your parents and grandparents and ancestors going back to make proof positive that you would be here and be able to do these things.”

“War is a horrible thing, as some of you just got through telling me. Filled with atrocities and misery and hateful deeds that show only the brutality of man to man. I am not saying otherwise. I hope to hell that none of us ever have to see war. I was very, very young when the last war this county had to experience came to a close. None of you were even born then. So it is with some certainty that I am able to say that you, and you,” he pointed to a few of the students, still pouting in the second row, that had heckled him earlier before he had launched into his monologue, “and even you, truly don’t know what you are talking about.”

He sighed. “What have I been saying? None of us know anything. We’re all ignorant and dangerous, and one step above monkeys banging rocks together and hooting wildly in the brush. I can hear the sounds of altruistic ideals in your words, words that are severely lacking in the experience to lend some credence to their tone. You say you understand war, how? What basis do you have to bolster that claim?”

He singled one student out. “You. You’re family works as clothiers. You are the oldest of five children and your father never served in the army. An uncle on your mother’s side did, but as you said, he doesn’t say much about it. So where is your grail, your document of proof that makes you such an expect on the vagaries of war and evil that men do?”

He addressed the class at large. “The truth of the matter is that war is a horrible thing, but sometimes it is a necessary thing; if only to ensure to future survival of the next generation and the hopes that they would learn from the hard lessons of their parents and grandparents and never commit them again.” He looked disgusted. “From what I’ve heard today, I weep for our generation because they apparently haven’t learned enough.”

Seeing the headmaster coming in, Socrates scraped his tongue along his teeth as if removing some foul taste from his mouth. “I would like to thank all of you for listening to my words here today, and if you learn nothing else either in my class or out of it, I hope you always learn to ask the why of things instead of just accepting the world at face value.” He lowered his pointer and folded his arms across his chest. “Class dismissed.”

Surprisingly, most of the room rose to their feet, hands clapping against their chest in a sign of respect; the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of their applause filling the chamber. Talking animatedly, they filed out of the room, voices dissolving into a droning hodge-podge of excited words and bantering tones.

Wearily, Socrates lowered himself to his chair and stared morosely at the red-faced dean. “What is it now, sir?” he asked.

“You are just amazing, you know that! Do you always have to flaunt the school board? Can’t you stop it with your rabble rousing and diatribes! You’re making a mockery of this institution, a mockery!”

“What would you have me do, sir?”

“Do? I should wish that you get your belongings and take a long walk to someplace cold and covered with ice; teach your seditious words and hateful spewing to the whales and the penguins.” He blustered about, hands flailing. “Do you know we’ve had FIVE complaints about you? FIVE?!?! What if the parents start pulling your students from your class? What if they pull them from the SCHOOL?!? Then what, huh?”

Socrates tried to hide his smile. “Sir, I also know you have received closer to fifteen letters commending me and my teachings from some of the students and their guardians. Doesn’t that count for something?”

The dean actually shook with rage, his eyes going bloodshot as he struggled to keep himself from exploding. Instead, he gave his teacher a wild-eyed glower before turning away with a wordless howl and marching back out of the room. “Follow the lesson, damn it! Just follow the Zeus bedamned lesson!” He slammed the door behind him.

Socrates chuckled, head shaking back and forth. Giving the classroom a final look around, he gathered his belongings and walked out slowly, whistling a lively marching tune as he did so.

Vanadorn,

Just a tiny typo - first para about Socrate, "in the from of..." probably should be front.

As always, congrats! This is the first place I go to on the forum. Thanks for a very enjoyable read each and every time.

Cheers,
Albow

Wow, you beat out the Celtic Peacekeepers without starting your own religion.

Say, I've noticed that Octavian still seems a tad "green;" how long has he been emporer?

I'm not sure Octavian is so much too "green" rather than just too nice a person to be a good Ceasar.

I'm still here and enjoying everytime I see a new update. I look forward to them every day.

OMG this has over 1000 posts?!?! thats CRAZY!!! thats about all i can say about that!!!!! and like 30000 visits to the page wow...

I get the feeling the headmaster is going to keel over from a coronary if he listens to many more of Socrates' lectures.

Perhaps...and perhaps Socrates helps, with the education of the masses, to start the cause of Global Revolution!

Since there will be a communist revolution, will there be a "Romanov" scene with the royals getting dumped down a mine shaft? Or will they leave for exile in the Incan republic or the Arabian empire?

Mia sat stone faced, her ruffled yellow dress accentuating her figure, the fabric a perfect compliment to her blond locks. The dance floor was awash with dancing figures, smiling faces twirling round and round. Mia could care little for the festivities. She had already rebuffed two Centurions, four Captains, an earnest colonial, a handful of lords, and one cheeky baron regarding a dance. A delicate crystal fluyt of wine sat sweating on the table before her, untouched and unnoticed by the stewing princess.

The target of her ire was her brother, the king, and his wife, Andromeda. If she really thought about it, it was Andromeda. Her lip curled up in disgust.

With her perfect hair and exotic eyes, that body, those legs, that ever present smile and her grating laugh; the entirety of his brother’s wife was an exercise in frustration for the young woman. She was well received at court, liked by the council, and never seemed to ever leave her brother’s side for even an instant.

Not even once.

Mia felt her gorge rise as she watched Andromeda tilt her head back, laughing charmingly at some quip that Caesar had made. Things were better before she came into the royal family’s life. Things were better when Caesar had the time to devote to her. Her vision blurred with pooling tears. Using the corner of her napkin, she dabbed them away before her makeup was threatened.

“Hey, sis, what’s going on?”

Looking up, she felt her heart soar as she beheld Octavian. He had approached the table in order to take a sip of his wine, but had come closer to her upon noticing her distress. Smiling broadly, her lashes fluttering, Mia said, “Oh! Nothing much. Just had a lash in my eye.” She mimed clearing it away. “There, all better now.”

He gave her a searching look, eyes shrouded in disbelief. “You sure?” he asked.

She wanted to cry with grief. Even with the addition of his married life and the pressures of the kingdom, he still not only cared about Mia’s feelings, but also knew immediately when she wasn’t feeling well. With ill-disguised relief, she fluttered her hand depreciatingly. “I’m fine. Nothing to be done about it, anyway.”

He grunted. “Hmmm. I don’t know…” he began

“You know what would make me feel better?” she asked.

“What?”

She pouted prettily. “I’m all alone here. I’d really like a dance if that’s ok?”

Smiling fondly, he replied, “Sure! Sounds like fun.” Drawing himself up fully, he bowed low, extending his hand. Affecting a deep voice, he asked drawlingly, “Would you honor me with a dance, my lady?”

Giggling at his joke, she rose from her chair, joining her brother on the dance floor. She almost shuddered as he placed his hand around her waist, blushing at the feel of his fingers entwined with hers. They stepped together, easily pacing the rest of the room in time to the music. Mia allowed herself to sway in time with the beat, her feet performing the steps with fluid mechanics in response to Octavian’s lead.

He was laughing aloud, visibly happy to be sharing a dance with his pretty sister. Other partners on the floor nodded in response to their approach, smiling broadly at them as they worked their away about the grand chamber. Mia was lost, her heart beating wildly as Octavian danced with her throughout the rest of the song as well as the second one.

Hoping that she might coax him into a third consecutive dance, she felt her skin go cold as Andromeda approached them, a fixed smile on her face that seemed to miss grabbing her eyes as well. “Having fun, you two?” she asked, laying her hand on Caesar’s arm.

He chuckled. “Actually yes I am!” he shook his head. “But if I don’t get a chance to sit down soon, I won’t be able to walk again later.” He extricated himself from Mia’s grasping hand with a wiggle and a shake, laughing ruefully at her. “All right you,” he said with a grin, “I’m too pooped to party.” He leaned over giver her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for the dance, sis.” He then leaned into Andromeda, giving her a more intimate kiss that worked its way over to her lips. “I’m going to get something to eat dear. Coming?”

She swatted his arm. “Soon, silly.” She made shooing motions with her fingers. “Go. Get out of here. I’ll join you in a minute or ten. I’m going to talk with Mia for a bit.” She lowered her voice a half notch, smiling wide. “You know, girl talk and stuff.”

Holding his belly, he made a reeling stagger, walking away from the pair. “Oh, no! Not girl talk. I’m out of here.”

Her stomach sinking, Mia watched him go, feeling ill at the prospect of remaining in Andromeda’s company. Turning to the taller woman, she asked, “What did you want to talk about.”

Andromeda steered her off the floor, a gentle, yet insistent leading of the younger girl by the elbow of her yellow dress. Once they were at the side of the chamber, Mia found herself further lead away, this time to the empty hall. Growing irate, she shook her arm free and glowered. “What is it?” she snapped.

The dark haired queen twisted her lips, sighing deeply. “Listen, Mia. We’ve never gotten along, and that’s fine by me. I don’t know what you have against me but I won’t hold that against you.”

Mia shrugged. “Whatever.”

Andromeda frowned. “However, like it or not, you are beginning to become a bit of a nuisance around court as of late.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should learn not to cast comments about me to either servants or other members of court. I guarantee that they will always come back to me.” She leaned in. “As they have.”

“What?!” Mia squealed, surprised at the accusation. “I never. Whomever said them were lying. Lies, I tell you.”

Andromeda shook her head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I know so. In fact, your little gripings and clutchings about me are starting to cross the line from petty to malignant.” He brows lowered. “Don’t try to go head to head against me, Princess.”

Mia was taken aback, but quickly regained her ground. Balling her hands up at her side, she chuckled lowly in the back of her throat. “You have me mistaken, Countess,” the young woman countered, deliberately goading Andromeda on with her original, lower status title. “It is you that shouldn’t attempt to cow me.”

Andromeda’s face flushed but her expression never changed. “Whatever, Princess. You have been warned.” Her hand lashed out, pinching Mia’s flesh deeply up near the top of her dainty bicep. Twisting slightly, she finished with, “For if you try me, Princess, I’ll see to it that the unmarried little sister to the king is shipped off to a nunnery or betrothed to some fat, sweaty Baron out in the middle of some bum-frocked fly speck of a land fief where the only outlet for the peasants is to flick the fleas from their livestock’s arse.” She released the girl’s arm viciously. “And all it would take is some guiding words from Caesar’s loving wife to make it happen.”

Mia’s face had gone white, her breath catching in her chest. Feeling herself about to cry, she nursed her blossoming bruise with her off hand and turned running away from the she-devil his brother had married and towards the flimsy safety of her chambers.

The queen’s mocking laughter chased her all the way down the dimly lit corridor.