That night, Ulixes stood alone in his study. His fingers unconsciously touched the recently healed scar on his arm, a remnant of an assassin's dagger. A faint cold sensation, an echo of the fight in the dark alley, still lingered beneath his skin.
He realized a piercing truth. In the arena, your enemy attacks from the front. In this political world, your enemy smiles at you at a feast while their knife is already aimed at your back. Roman Military Tactics were useless against whispers in the corridors. Basic Psychology could read intent, but could not predict intricate webs of lies. I am blind in this game.
His jaw tightened. He would no longer be blind. It was time to open his eyes.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the outside world and focusing inward, on the source of his power. The cold blue panel appeared behind his eyelids.
{Name: Ulixes (Tiberius Acilius Ulixes)}
{Essence Stored: 103}
The number glowed with potential. Enough. His intent was sharp and unwavering. Use one hundred. Unlock new Legacy. Category: Knowledge.
The panel flickered, displaying a new list. Three paths to power.
{Available Knowledge Choices:}
{- [Knowledge] Intrigue & Manipulation (Tier 1)}
{- [Knowledge] Information Networks (Tier 1)}
{- [Knowledge] Logistics & Supply (Tier 1)}
His mind worked quickly. Information Networks were useful, but he had already built one with the Egyptian and the orphans. Logistics was a weapon for a general, a necessity for the future, not for now.
But Intrigue & Manipulation... that was the language of serpents like Glaber. It was the art his father practiced in another life. It was the weapon he needed to fight on the stage of Rome.
His intent locked onto the first option.
The sensation was not like a surge of power, but rather a quiet enlightenment. It felt like years of studying a complex language, and suddenly, all its grammar rules and vocabulary perfectly coalesced within his mind.
He did not gain the ability to "see" emotions. Instead, his brain now had the ability to process the social data he collected a glance, a pause in a sentence, an unusual choice of words and instantly weave it into a logical pattern.
He recalled Glaber's smile at the welcoming feast. Before, Basic Psychology only told him something was off. Now, with his new Legacy, he could "read" the tension at the corner of that lip as insecurity, and Glaber's eyes lingering too long on the wine goblet as an attempt to mask his nervousness. He could see the chain of cause and effect: that insecurity stemmed from a need to prove himself, which would drive him to reckless actions.
Ulixes opened his eyes. The enlightenment felt like a cold fire in his mind. He wasted no time. He immediately summoned his personal servant waiting outside.
"Summon Domina Licinia, Domina Ilithyia, Domina Aemilia, and Domina Domitia," he commanded, his voice calm but possessing a new, undeniable weight. "Tell them I have a solution for our problem at the harbor. Immediately."
Moments later, they were all gathered in his study. The four most influential women in his new faction looked at him expectantly, sensing a change in his aura.
"The warehouse problem at the harbor," Aemilia said, starting the conversation as before. "The merchant faction led by Lucius Varenus rejected our offer. They demanded twice the market price."
"Then just pay it," Licinia snapped impatiently. "We have the money. Just get it done."
Ulixes slowly shook his head, a small gesture that instantly silenced the room. "No," he said. "Paying more shows weakness. It will only invite more leeches to come. We will not pay more. We will make Varenus give us that warehouse at the price we want."
He looked at Ilithyia. "Your husband is still a Praetor, is he not? A sudden 'tax inspection' on Varenus's shipping business for 'alleged' embezzlement will keep him very busy."
Ilithyia's eyes narrowed, then a faint smile, one that did not reach her eyes, began to form. She understood.
Ulixes then turned to Aemilia. "The Varenus family has a bitter business rivalry with your late husband's family. I want you to be seen publicly tomorrow, visiting Sextus's tomb. Wear your finest mourning clothes. Let the whole city see your 'deep' sorrow. Let Varenus think you are planning something to retaliate for an old grudge."
Finally, he looked at all of them. "While Varenus panics from a Praetor's tax inspection and a threat from the past, my intelligence network will spread rumors. A whisper that one of his ships was seen docked near rebel-controlled territory."
He paused, letting them digest the series of attacks.
"When he is surrounded by fire," Ulixes continued, "we will arrive with a bucket of water. We will offer to 'help' him clear his name and resolve his tax issues. In return, he will sell us that warehouse at a very low price. He will even thank us for saving him."
Total silence filled the room. Licinia stared at her husband, her mouth slightly agape. Aemilia and Domitia exchanged glances, their eyes showing a mix of admiration and dread. Ilithyia simply leaned back in her chair, her smile now one of absolute satisfaction, a victor's smile.
"You know what must be done," Ulixes said, his tone final. "Start now."
The wheels of the plan began to turn. Within days, all of Capua whispered. Whispers about Domina Aemilia's piety in revisiting her husband's tomb. Whispers about Lucius Varenus suddenly being investigated by Praetor Glaber's tax collectors. And most alarmingly, dark rumors that Varenus had trade connections with the rebels.
The Egyptian reported that Varenus was panicking, running around trying to extinguish the fires engulfing his reputation. Ulixes simply listened to the report calmly. The bait had been cast, and his prey was squirming in the net.
Just as Ulixes felt all his chess pieces were in place, much bigger news arrived from Rome. A courier from his intelligence network arrived, breathless.
"Dominus," he said, "News from the Senate. They are panicking after Glaber's defeat." He paused, catching his breath. "Marcus Licinius Crassus has stepped forward. He offered to fund six new legions from his own wealth to suppress the rebellion. The Senate has agreed. They have given him full command."
Ulixes nodded slowly. The fire he lit with his secret letter had successfully burned through all of Rome. Crassus was now moving. The stage was set.
As if in answer to his thoughts, a guard ran into the atrium of his villa, his face tense. "Dominus Ulixes," he said, "an envoy from Rome. He carries the seal of the Licinius family."
All activity in the villa seemed to halt. Servants stopped moving. A tense silence descended upon the room. The envoy stepped in. He was not merely a messenger. He was a fully armored soldier. He stopped before Ulixes, pounding his fist against his chest in respect.
He held out a papyrus scroll sealed with red wax. "A message from Dominus Marcus Licinius Crassus," he said in a clear, formal voice.
Ulixes took the scroll. His hand was steady as he broke the seal. He unrolled it and read the brief sentences within.
As he raised his head, his eyes met Licinia's, who stood nearby, looking at him anxiously. He handed the scroll to his wife.
Licinia read it in a soft voice, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke the full name in front of an official envoy. "Marcus Licinius Crassus... summons Tiberius Acilius Ulixes... to meet him in Rome."
The summons echoed in the silent atrium. No longer a summons for a gladiator or a secret ally. It was an official summons for a noble, from the most powerful man in Rome, heading to the heart of the empire. The game in Capua was over. The game in Rome was about to begin.
The Appian Way stretched before them like an endless gray ribbon, an artery pumping life towards the heart of the world. The wheels of their luxurious carriage (carpentum) rattled softly over the neatly laid stones, a sound vastly different from the creak of the slave cart that had once brought Ulixes to Capua.
He leaned back against the silk cushions, feeling every gentle jolt. Across from him, Licinia slept soundly, her pregnancy making her tire more easily. One of Ulixes's hands unconsciously reached out, almost touching his wife's swollen belly before he drew it back. Inside lay his heir. The foundation of his new dynasty.
His mind drifted back to his first journey on this road. He could still feel the dust suffocating his lungs, the sun burning the back of his neck, and the cold despair in his stomach. Back then, this road was dust and despair. He glanced out the window, seeing a wealthy merchant carried by slaves, then glanced at Licinia sleeping peacefully. Now...
"What are you thinking, Tiberius?" Licinia's sleep-hoarsened voice pulled him back to the present. She had woken up, her eyes still half-closed, looking at him with curiosity.
Ulixes looked into his wife's eyes. "Just thinking about how far we've come," he replied, his voice soft. "And how much further we still have to go."
Licinia smiled faintly. Her hand reached out and clasped Ulixes's hand. "We will go through it together," she whispered, a promise stronger than any oath before the gods.
A few hours later, the scenery began to change. Olive groves and pleasant country villas were replaced by denser buildings. The air became heavier, filled with the noise of thousands of voices, the neighing of horses, and the constant rumble of a living city.
Then, he saw it. Rome.
Even from a distance, its size felt impossible. The city did not just sprawl, but soared. Giant aqueducts spanned the horizon like ancient giant bones. Terracotta roofs stretched as far as the eye could see, interspersed with the gleaming white marble peaks of temples under the sun. This was not Capua. Capua was a city. This was a world.
As their carriage passed through the bustling city gates, Ulixes felt a sensation he had never felt before. Not fear, not awe. It was a cold recognition.
This is where the true dragons reside.
Marcus Crassus's villa did not feel like a home. It was a statement. Its marble was colder, its corridors wider, and the slaves moving within it were almost silent, their efficiency demonstrating terrifying discipline. There was no flashy luxury like at Batiatus's house; here, power did not need to shout. That power was felt in the air, in every towering pillar, and in the heavy silence.
Ulixes was escorted to a spacious study. Dark wooden shelves were filled with hundreds of neatly arranged papyrus scrolls. In the center of the room, behind a large desk empty except for a military map, sat Marcus Licinius Crassus.
He did not immediately lift his head as Ulixes entered. He simply continued studying his map. Ulixes stood silently, waiting. This was a game he recognized.
Finally, Crassus raised his head. His sharp, emotionless eyes assessed him. "Reports of your victory against the rebels are highly satisfactory, Acilius," Crassus said, his voice calm but possessing the weight of steel. He used the family name, a formal acknowledgment. "You proved that a soldier's blood truly flows in your veins."
Crassus leaned back in his chair. "Rome is in danger. The Senate is filled with orators who are only good at talking, while the slaves laugh on the slopes of Vesuvius. I will not allow that." He looked sharply at Ulixes. "I am raising an army. Not from the remnants of Glaber's disgraced legions, but new legions forged by discipline and loyalty. I need officers. Not pampered nobles who bought their positions, but men who understand the meaning of steel and blood."
A moment of silence hung in the air.
"I offer you a command," Crassus said, getting straight to the point. "Praefectus Cohortis. Commander of the Third Cohort in my second legion. You will be responsible for six hundred men."
The offer struck Ulixes. Not a position of honor. A real command. His heart pounded once, hard, before he brought it under control. This was it.
"An honor I will not squander, Dominus," Ulixes replied, his voice steady and respectful.
"Honor is earned, not given," Crassus countered. His eyes narrowed. "In your opinion, what is Spartacus's greatest weakness?"
A test. Ulixes did not hesitate. "His greatest weakness is his strength, Dominus," he answered. "He fights for freedom. Such sentiment creates enthusiastic fighters, but also an undisciplined and hard-to-control army. They will fight as individuals, not as a unit. They will crumble before the discipline and true legionary formations."
A rare, faint smile touched Crassus's lips. He saw not just a soldier, but a strategist who thought like him.
"Good," Crassus said, rising from his chair, signaling the end of the meeting. "Report to the camp outside the city at dawn. The quartermaster will prepare your armor."
Ulixes bowed respectfully and walked out of the room. As he stepped back into the cold marble corridor, he knew his journey as Ulixes the former gladiator had truly ended. Tomorrow, he would be reborn for the third time.
Dawn broke over the hills outside Rome, its pale light cutting through the morning mist. The military camp stirred awake. The sound of thousands of men, the neighing of horses, and the sharp commands of Centurions merged into a constant roar. The scent of leather, cold steel, and smoke from a thousand campfires filled the air.
Ulixes was escorted through endless rows of tents to a larger officer's tent. Inside, on a simple wooden table, lay his new destiny.
An old quartermaster helped him wordlessly. Ulixes removed his fine linen tunic, the cloth of a free man. In its place, he donned the thick wool tunic of a soldier. The material felt rough against his scarred skin.
Then, the armor. Not the ragged leather and iron protection of the arena. This was lorica segmentata, a series of polished steel plates that gleamed. As the officer fastened it to his shoulders, Ulixes felt its weight. The weight of steel, and the weight of six hundred lives now under his command. The sound of leather straps being pulled tight echoed in the silence of the tent.
He fastened his military belt, the hilt of his gladius cold and familiar at his side. But now, the sword was no longer a tool for survival. It was a symbol of Rome's authority.
The officer then draped a blood-red cloak over his shoulders. The paludamentum of a commander. Its heavy fabric pressed down on his shoulders, a burden of honor and responsibility.
Finally, the helmet. Polished steel with a crest of red-dyed horsehair, mounted transversely, the mark of a commanding officer.
He stepped in front of a large shield (scutum) leaning against the tent pole. Its gleaming surface faintly reflected his image. He looked at the figure before him.
No longer a slave. No longer a gladiator. This... was the face of a Roman officer.
A name flashed in his mind, sharp as a shard of glass. Spartacus. An unsettling coldness. He would hunt the man who once fought beside him, the man who understood the same hell as him. His jaw tightened for a moment, the only sign of the storm raging within him.
He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The transformation was complete.
Ulixes stepped out of the tent, into the growing light of morning. Before him, on the vast training ground, thousands of soldiers moved as one, their formations perfect, their forest of spears piercing the sky.
He no longer saw them as individuals. He saw them as a weapon. The greatest weapon in the world. And he, now, was one of the hands that wielded it. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, to the south, towards Vesuvius.
The game had ended. The war was about to begin.
-----------------------------------------------------------
{Name: Ulixes (Tiberius Acilius Ulixes)}
{Title: Praefectus Cohortis}
{Essence Stored: 3}
{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1), [Talent] 360-Degree Awareness, [Knowledge] Roman Military Tactics (Tier 1), [Knowledge] Economics & Trade (Tier 1), [Knowledge] Intrigue & Manipulation (Tier 1)}