Dragon's Tale - Interlude 1

Pomerium (City Center), Rome, Italy

A man in his seventies, wearing the ceremonial toga that signified him as a member of the Roman Senate, walked through the crowded streets of Pomerium, the holy center of the Roman Republic, the strongest bastion of Imperium. As he walked, the crowd parted around him, each looking at him. Some with reverence, some with hope, others with hatred, but regardless of the source, he enjoyed their eyes on him, because it signified the power. 

Most men would be afraid of people’s hatred, fearing harm, but he was not one of them. And not because of a dozen Gladiators, armed to the teeth. He had guards, because his prestige as an Ex-Preator and one of the most influential members of the Senate required it. He was one of the strongest Sorcerers, managing to cultivate his power to the limit, and quenched it with decades of experience in the Battlefields of North Africa. Anyone that was strong enough to threaten him would have destroyed those guards in a second… Not that he needed to be afraid of it. He trusted himself as peerless in the Sorcerer realm. Only a group of Sorcerers, or gods forbid, and Archmagus could threaten him. 

Former could never penetrate into the Heart of the Republic to face him, and the latter… Well, if an Archmagus really wanted to kill him, he probably could, but luckily, there were less than a dozen of them in the Republic, and every single one of them was older than two hundred, long withdrawn from the chaos of Politics, lost in their esoteric studies, trying to decipher the meaning of reality. They would never get involved with daily life unless there was a huge emergency, or another Archmagus decided to target the Republic. 

Once his plan was complete and he ascended, he was going to be a different kind of Archmagus, on that he was certain… He was going to remind the world why Archmagus was to be feared. 

Of course, only if his pathetic subordinates could finally achieve their mission, he thought with a sudden frown, when he felt a small stone in his pocket pulsating. His frown stayed on his face as he stepped into his villa, his gladiator guards staying at the perimeter. When a slave walked toward him, carrying a wine, he gestured him away, instead, he walked toward his private study. 

Before doing anything else, he raised the defensive wards to prevent any attempt of spying. They were a result of centuries of a collaborative effort of his family, which had to honor of raising many Sorcerer’s. His villa’s defenses second only to Senate, even surpassing many important temples. Still, even then, he made sure to check for listening spells. The game he was playing was too dangerous to slip… 

Only after making sure that he was completely protected, he activated a runic device. It was a communication device manufactured by an Archmagus itself, given as a gift to one of his ancestors. It was priceless, more than enough to buy a city if he ever sold it. It was precious, because it allowed perfect communication without any chance of interception. 

He took a deep breath and activated the device, and a screen of light flickered into existence before it formed the illusion of a tall man, wearing a combination of gray and black, with a rune-covered blade on his waist. On his back, the sea was visible, a small storm still ongoing, and in the distance, a large port could be seen. 

Even remotely, the man dressed in blacks was enough to intimidate many people, but the senator wasn’t one of those. “Any news,” he asked impatiently when he recognized the port itself. It was the port of Londinium. 

“We have discovered the identity of the stowaway,” the figure spoke with a clear tone, one that signaled a rich upbringing and quality education. “It seems like poor luck. We have identified him as a student that failed to graduate, then escaped from his uncle for a family dispute. It was our poor luck that the Conduit turned out to be from the same class, so he took the risk of saving her.” 

The senator took a deep breath to control his spiking anger, trying not to lash out. He usually didn’t bother sparing the feelings of his subordinates, but the captain was different. As another Sorcerer —even one of the lower circles— he deserved some respect. Still, he felt it challenging, as challenging as the day he had reported that he somehow lost the Conduit and the Spark on the same day, even losing his own familiar in the process —a true disgrace for a sorcerer. 

“So,” the senator murmured in a false calmness. “You’re saying that it’s a complete coincidence that a plan of twenty years had staggered in its most critical stage, and only because you were too busy to defend the most important ingredients of the ritual.” 

“I went to acquire the Container personally,” the captain defended himself, and not for the first time. “There was no way anyone else could have to succeed in stealing that. Not my man, not that barbarian priest with an overinflated sense of ego, not even your precious Legionnaires-” he tried to continue, but was silenced when the senator raised his hand. 

“Enough,” he called. “I’m fed up with listening to your excuses. They were pointless enough the first time. I don’t want to endure a repeat of them. You know our deal. Only after you collect everything I require, I’ll loan you enough money to hire the mercenaries you require. Then you can go back to Constantinople and die your pointless attempt to become the Emperor.” 

“We’ll see,” the captain answered sharply. “I will not rest until I get the throne I deserve, not even in death!” 

The senator looked at him, doing his best not to show his boredom at his pointless display. Like it mattered whether he deserved power or not. It was all about what you could take, and what you could hold. Pointless entitlement wasn’t the reason he was able to climb to the top of the Republic’s power structure, and aiming to heights that had never been reached before. 

Just as he was about to end the communication, he was struck with a flight of fancy, wondering the name of the unlucky person who had managed to put himself into the meat grinder of his plans. “What’s the name of the man that ruined my plans by accident?” he asked, then chuckled. “Maybe I should offer him a job.” 

“You shouldn’t,” the captain said immediately. “He’s just a bastard son of a disgraced family, tethering near destruction. I don’t even remember his name, but his family name is Scipio.” 

The senator suddenly felt his heart grasped by a cold claw. “Scipio!” he shouted in anger. “Did you say, Scipio!” 

“Yes,” the captain answered, suddenly stammering. Even from a distance, a peak Sorcerer’s anger was not something to be suffered lightly. 

“IDIOT!” the senator cried even as he grabbed the relic, squeezing hard. Then he noticed a new crack, and realized he had damaged a precious artifact in a moment of fury. He loosened his grip, making his hands into fists instead, punching the wall repeatedly, the pain only an echo. 

“What’s-” the captain started, but he was silenced immediately at the cries of the Senator. 

“Moron,” he called. “We have been played. Tell me everything you learned about this young Scipio,” he ordered. 

“Give me a moment, I’ll ask my subordinates,” the captain said, and he disappeared, leaving the senator alone with his frantic heartbeat. 

Forty years, the senator thought in desperation. He had thought that he had managed to get rid of that stupid fool called Aemon Scipio forty years ago when he came strutting down into Rome, like he was anything more than an upstart rat from one of the colonies. What if he had a prestigious family name. What if he showed the strongest potential their backwater academy had ever seen. Who was Aemon to seduce a girl above his station, one he had fancied as well…  

He had thought that upstart Aemon how the game was played when he finally ambushed him with his cohort, injuring him badly enough to ensure he would never become a Sorcerer. 

He had thought himself clever when rather than killing him, he sent him limping back to the Colonies, banished from Rome, like a living testament to all of his rivals that challenging him meant not only pain, but also ultimate humiliation… He even believed that just a couple of years ago, he had delivered the ultimate humiliation, when he discreetly arranged for his son to receive a deadly poison, giving him a shameful death in the hands of his own blood… 

Of course, now that his progeny suddenly found himself in the middle of his plan, he was cursing the pride that made him do those things. Maybe he should have just killed him. 

While he was deep in thought, the captain stumbled back into view. “His name is Marcus Scipio,” the Captain said. “Unremarkable despite rumored to be trained by his grandfather, Aemon Scipio. Complete lack of aptitude toward magic, shy, cowardly, not good in magical or military theory…” the captain started, every scrap of information he counted making the senator panic harder. 

“We have been played,” the senator exclaimed in anger. The captain looked at him questioningly. “Don’t you see, Aemon raised him just to have his revenge. There’s no way someone raised by him is that unremarkable, unless he was playing possum until the time to strike. How can it be a coincidence that the grandson of my enemy suddenly finds itself in the docks to board your boat, throwing his chance to a good life through graduating, coincidentally being there the only time he could intercept both the Conduit and the Spark. He was the perfect counter, a step ahead of us the whole time.” 

“But that’s impossible, it means that they knew exactly where we were, and what was our action plan. That means…” 

The senator completed his sentence. “That there’s a traitor in the Council, maybe even more than one.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t tell anyone, I’ll be responsible for finding that traitor. You need to find Marcus Scipio’s trail as soon as possible. I’m going to send two cohorts as support just in case.” 

“A thousand Legionnaires, and two Sorcerer-Centurions?” the captain asked, shocked. “It’ll be three Sorcerers if you want me to cooperate. Don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?” 

“Maybe, but it’s better safe than sorry. We have already made that mistake. I would have sent a full legion if I could have got away with it, but the risk of getting noticed by other senators is too high. Two cohorts are the limit, and only because he’s near the border.” The senator took a deep breath. “You have your orders. Don’t screw things up, and don’t let the Container to be lost as well, or you might convince me that you’re the spy.” 

“Understood,” the captain said, his sudden blanching showing that he fully understood the threat he received. 

“Excellent,” the senator said, and ended the communication, his mind on the devastating hit one of his old enemies had delivered beyond the grave. 

Maybe he should have just killed him years ago…