Gaius Fabius Portio DELENDA EST CARTHAGO Put Hannibal in the scales: how many pounds will that peerless General mark up today? This is the man for whom Africa Was too small a continent, though it stretched from the surf-beaten Ocean shores of Morocco east to the steamy Nile, To tribal Ethiopia, and new elephants' habitats. Now Spain swells his empire, now he surmounts The Pyrenees. Nature sets in his path High Alpine passes, blizzards of snow: but he splits The very rocks asunder, moves mountains with vinegar. Now Italy is his, yet still he forces on: 'We have accomplished nothing,' he cries, 'till we have stormed The gates of Rome, till our Carthaginian standard Is set in the City's heart.' A fine sight it must have been, Fit subject for caricature - the one-eyed commander Perched on his monstrous beast! Alas, alas for glory, What an end was here: the defeat, the ignominious Headlong flight into exile, everyone gawping at The once-mighty Hannibal turned humble hanger-on, Sitting outside the door of a petty Eastern despot Till His Majesty deign to wake. No sword, no spear, No battle-flung stone was to snuff the fiery spirit That once had wrecked a world: those crushing defeats, Those rivers of spilt blood were all wiped out by a Ring, a poisoned ring. On, on, you madman, drive Over your savage Alps, to thrill young schoolboys And supply a theme for speech-day recitals! -from Juvenal, Satire X Under your direction, your family's fortunes grow even greater than before. Diocletian is competent enough, but your father was right; he's too content to let others do the work, so long as his life is comfortable. Diocletian's son Cornelius, however, has all the ambition your father could have wished for, and him you groom to look after the family fortune following your tragic death, five years after you returned home. Once you return to Rome from the Mediterranean, you are able to watch over the Portios from a safe, though sometimes painful, distance. Your mother was never the same after your father passed away, and the drowning of her eldest son seems to come as an even more terrible blow to her. She fades rapidly, her vivacity a sad memory, but lingers on for another six years before finally joining your father in the afterlife. The Gauls in northern Italy are suppressed after ten years of warfare, and Rome establishes lasting trade centers that access northern Europe. Philip V of Macedonia concedes defeat in 197, ending the second Macedonian war. Hannibal, after his return to Carthage, was elected to their highest office, but his reward for persuading Carthage to make peace with Rome is that victorious Rome thirsts for vengeance, and demands his extradition. The great general flees east, seeking protection from the Seleucid Emperor, Antiochus III, who has just driven Egypt out of Syria and Palestine and is now expanding into Asia Minor. Hannibal advises Antiochus, attempting to persuade the Emperor to give the Carthaginian command of an army that would invade Italy and accomplish what he failed to do over twenty years earlier; attack Rome itself. Antiochus rejects this plan, and instead allies with the Aetolian League and attempts to wrest control of the Aegean from Rome, but his Thessalian invasion is a failure, and after four years of warfare, Rome defeats the Seleucid Emperor once and for all. The Peace of Apamea in 188 establishes Rome as undisputed mistress of the Mediterranean. As the years pass and you spend most of your time in Rome, and some of it traveling abroad, you meet several other Immortals, besides the perpetually-indolent Achilleus. Most are really not too inclined to fight you, and you learn that it's common for the more settled Immortals to pick a city as their residence, which becomes recognized as their "territory", not to be intruded on, without paying them a courtesy call, unless one has come seeking their head. The older Immortals you meet are Alexander (you suspect not his original name) of Sparta, probably the oldest Greek Immortal (he claims to have known the *real* Heracles), Hadrius of Sardinia, and the bookish Semoch, a man of uncertain heritage who now lives in Rhodes and seems mostly concerned with collecting histories and geneologies. All of these men are acquainted with Persius Romulus Solus, and express varying degrees of dismay that he may have lost his head. From them you hear of a few other contemporary Immortals, such as a Persian believed to have advised Darius and Alexander (the non-immortal), and now dwelling in the court of Antiochus; an ancient Carthaginian, last seen centuries ago but rumored to still dwell in that city, and an Egyptian, current whereabouts unknown but said by these elder Immortals to be the oldest living Immortal that they know of. You also meet a Macedonian sailor, an Iberian mercenary, and an Athenian prostitute, all of whom you meet and part with on relatively peaceful terms. So far, you have never encountered a hostile Immortal bent on challenging you to a duel, though the Iberian is only slightly older than you (relatively speaking) and still feeling his way about, and you suspect you'll meet him again under less pleasant circumstances. These are the Immortals of the civilized world. You are assured by Alexander, Hadrius and Semoch, and a few visitors to Rome, that things are not nearly so civilized if one ventures far from the Mediterranean; there are certainly Immortals among the savage tribes in northern Europe, the even more savage tribes of Africa, and the vast and mysterious empires of the East, and the fact that you and your peers hear little news of other Immortals coming from these places is taken as an indication of the reception that traveling Immortals probably can expect in those alien lands. .......... 183 B.C. You are on a business trip to Asia Minor, rather disillusioned with politics back home at the moment. The great general Scipio Africanus, who won that honorific after his defeat of Hannibal at the end of the last Punic war, is fighting for his public life against the censor Cato, whose self- appointed task of ridding the Senate of corruption is bound to result in a purge of one side or the other. Rather ironically, you are back in Bithynia, which is still ruled by King Prusias, the same man whose order freed you and all other former Roman slaves in that nation, sixteen years ago. Bithynia is now even more thoroughly under Rome's sway; Prusias dares not deny any request from Rome, as his kingdom is basically allowed to exist solely for the boundary it provides between Roman territory and the still- antagonistic Seleucids. You are enjoying the view of the harbor at Nicomedia, not far from where you once looked out over the port as a slave. Now there are far more ships, and almost all of them are carrying goods that are either making their way to or from Rome. A particularly large and imposing vessel arrives in the harbor this morning, and Roman soldiers and officials whose uniforms mark them as couriers conducting the business of the Senate itself disembark. Naturally curious, you inquire and learn that they are here to demand that King Prusias turn over Hannibal of Carthage to them. You knew that Hannibal was still alive, of course, and that after Apamea, Antiochus had been forced to expel Rome's old foe from his court. The Senate has never ceased hounding the man that once nearly brought the Republic to its knees, and now you learn that for the last few years, Hannibal has been living in exile here in Bithynia; in fact, he is now in this very city, where you were once exiled and enslaved because of him. Ironic indeed. <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius parts from his countrymen with good wishes, and stands staring after them, as they hurry to catch up to the rest of their party, heading off towards the palace. He stands staring, with turmoil in his breast. Hannibal certainly deserved death, after his invasion of Italy that brought death to untold thousands. But, in a queer fashion, it was probably Rome's response to that very attack that set them on the path to conquest, and possibly without Hannibal, Rome would now not be as preeminent in the Mediterranean as it is. And, in any case, Gaius remembered the man's fire and presence... a man who is not honorable will not trust others to keep their word, yet Hannibal seemed to have no hesitation in sending the envoys away while expecting them to return to slavery or death. No, an enemy of Rome certainly deserved death... but a man like that did not deserve the ignomity of being turned over to those jackals in the Senate, to be jeered at by such lowly curs before being dishonorably killed... perhaps even crucified. With a long, determined stride, Gaius heads off in a direction not too far away from the palace... where Hannibal waits in a small house, upon the pleasure of the king that has seen fit to keep an old wolf, in case he finds himself in need of tricks that the wolf can teach him. <><><><><> [GM] The house is even humbler than you expected....a common laborer in Rome could afford a larger dwelling than this plain, one-story baked clay structure. He changed the borders of empires, and cities once burned in his wake, now Hannibal is an old man put out to pasture, like an unwanted father-in-law. A pair of armed men are playing dice in front of the door; they stand as you approach. Your own bodyguard walks closer to you. "Who are you, Sir, and what's your business here?" one of the guards asks gruffly. <><><><><> [gaius] Approaching the pair of guards, he stops and leans upon the staff that he rarely lets away from his side nowadays. "My name is Gaius Portio Solus. I have a personal message for Hannibal. Be so kind as to let him know, and ask if he will see me, please." At this time, there is no reason not to be polite, and Gaius waits in his relaxed posture, waiting to see what the guards will do. <><><><><> [GM] The guards squint at you, then look at each other, then shrug, and one goes inside. A few minutes later he returns, and gestures for you to enter. "Hannibal says he will grant you an audience," the guard proclaims, with mock pomposity, leaving you unsure whether the sarcasm originated with Hannibal or with the guard. The inside is an humble as the outside. No weapons, no artworks, no elegant furniture, nothing to commemorate the resident of this dwelling. He either does not have or does not desire any mementos of his past glories. Hannibal sits on a cheap Roman-style couch, holding a small cup of some alcoholic brew. His eyepatch looks identical to the one you remember, but the rest of him is much changed, all for the worse. His limbs are emaciated, his face is wrinkled, his hair sparse and grey, and his fingers tremble slightly as he raises the cup to his lips. It's almost painful to look at this shattered old man and remember what he once was; a man before whom armies disintegrated, cities panicked, and entire nations trembled. But when he turns his one good eye up to you, you see a measure of the old Hannibal of Carthage remains. There is no fear or deference in his expression; bitterness and regret, perhaps, but the old wolf still has teeth; involuntarily, you almost take a step back before his steely gaze. This is still the man who commanded armies and terrorized Italy, before politicians did to him what generals never could; broke him and sent him running for his life. "Gaius Portio Solus," he says slowly. "I've never heard of you. You look like a merchant. So what do you want? A look at the old man, so you can return and tell your children back in Rome that you saw Hannibal in defeat? I get many visitors like that....Romans who think I'm a caged tiger on display for their amusement." He smiles. "So you're wondering why I bother to let you see me? Because I want you to get a good look at me. You made me into a bogeyman with which to scare your children, you portrayed me as evil incarnate, as a demon in human form, your Senate remained so terrified of me that even after the war they've never let me be, afraid that somehow, somewhere, I'll raise another army against them. I'm just a man, an old man, but *I* almost destroyed your Republic." He beats a fist against his chest for emphasis. "Rome is getting very full of herself nowadays...it might be wise for her to remember that there was a time when one man almost brought her to her knees. And even when I die...." he grins mirthlessly, "it could still happen again." <><><><><> [gaius] Despite the respect he has for this old man, he can't help but respond sarcastically as Hannibal insults his homeland, "Yes, old man... but we stopped you. One man challenged a nation... and where is the man now? and the nation?" Without waiting for an answer, he sits upon a plain wooden stool nearby, putting his staff across his knees. "But in any case, that is not why I have come to see you. Hate you though I do, as all Romans should when counting the numberless corpses and rivers of tears that your invasion brought to Rome, I and most other soldiers that I have known at least have respect for you. I wanted to see you dead... but now that you've survived the wars, and have been defeated, it strikes me as dishonorable to chase a beaten foe and hound him to his death so many years later." "And that is why I'm here. A delegation from Rome has just docked at the wharf, and by now are probably in to see the king. I'm sure you can guess what they want... your head, preferably still alive, so they can parade you down the Via Appia, and then probably crucify you. Once I would have loved to see that... but now, it would be a greater dishonor of my city than it would be a pleasure to see you on the tree." Gaius stands upright, preparing to leave... "Of course, what you do is your own business... if you think I'm lying, or are foolish enough to believe that the Senate is no longer interested in your well-worn hide, sit right there and await the chains that will carry away to a short-lived slavery." He can't hide the bitterness in the last words, and the thought that Hannibal would be getting nothing more than his just desserts passes through his mind as he turns away. <><><><><> [GM] Hannibal sits there and listens silently. Only when you stand to leave does he ask "Why did you want to see me dead? Did your father die in the wars? Or just general principles, because the great and terrible Hannibal was an enemy of Rome? I tried to end the war years before it finally did, you know. But Rome is very unforgiving. Woe to those who cross her..." He shakes his head, and you realize now he's just rambling, lost in his own thoughts. Later that day, as you make preparations to sail back to Rome on the following morning, you learn that the Roman officials arrived at Hannibal's house, to find him already dead. He had taken poison. King Prusias, showing some rare backbone, refuses to allow the Roman delegation to take the Carthaginian's body back to Rome for display, but declares that Hannibal will be buried here, in Bithynia. <><><><><> [gaius] Upon hearing the news, Gaius chuckles a little, imagining the consternation of the Roman officials... but quickly the mirth fades. Hannibal had made a strong impression upon him both times that they had met, and it didn't seem fitting for jackals to hound an old lion to his death, now that the lion had no more ability to harm Rome. Petty, was the word for it... and now the world was a poorer place. The death of common people happened all the time, and there was no help for it... but to hunt down such an imposing man, simply out of the desire for impotent vengeance, was unfortunately too typical of many of the Senators now in office... looking to get a score in any way, no matter how petty or dishonorable. Finishing the preparations with a heavy heart, Gaius goes out to drink a couple to Hannibal's memory, may he be given a comfortable place and respect in Pluto's hell... the gods knew he had earned both his trip down there, and also respect. Late in the morning, rather tipsy, Gaius wends his way down the street with the careful control of a fighter who know he has lost his edge, heading for the Bithynian palace's cemetery or mausoleum. He had never answered the old man's question, not wanting to face the additional questions that his answer would raise up... but now, Hannibal was beyond asking any further questions, and perhaps his shade would be lightened by having its last puzzle answered... <><><><><> [GM] It's actually rather difficult for you to get drunk, you've discovered; your immortal physiology gives you an almost superhuman tolerance for alcohol. But with effort, you can drink yourself into that state...secure in the knowledge that immortals are also spared the effects of hangovers. Wobbling only slightly, you make your way to the royal Mausoleum, where Hannibal was buried with honors (perhaps a few too many honors to please the Roman delegation, but there's no doubt that you're not the only one who felt tremendous respect, even admiration, for the man.) Gloating over the damage he wrought during the second Punic War would probably gall Roman visitors too much, so his grave marker, hastily erected, says simply: Hannibal of Carthage Son of Hamilcar Barca born 507, died 570 (Bithynia has adopted Roman dates, measured from the mythical founding of Rome.) It's rather jarring to realize that that old man was only a handful of years older than you...probably the most poignant reminder of your immortality since your mother died. <><><><><> [gaius] Wishing he had thought to bring a cup of wine to pour onto the soil for the enemy's shade, Gaius stands in front of the mausoleum, thinking for a long while. Hannibal had been probably the greatest single figure of his age, certainly greater than his only match, Publius Scipio 'Africanus'. The one name that needed no introduction anywhere around the Mediterranean, and for many day's travel inland in all directions. But, while his name may live forever... one insignificant opponent of his could manage perhaps to live long enough that the stories of Hannibal's war on Rome would fade into legend, like those of the Trojan war. A sadness is upon him.... it is believed that what a man does will outlive him, and provide his monument to the future. But even a great man like Hannibal may eventually be lost and forgotten into time, and his seed die out. What is the use of great deeds, when they will be as naught in the memories of mortal men? The only true immortality is the judgment that the gods levy upon each person, after judging how well they had lived their life. On that night, Gaius walked away from the tomb with a new determination... let mortal and immortal men look upon him as they will... but while their respect and affection may be nice, he will never compromise what he considers the proper thing to do in order to please companions. Respect for deeds and for a person fade, in many cases in a timespan short enough that a person like himself can actually see it dissappear. But self-respect lasts forever... if properly kept and cared for. And from now on, that is what he will care for, not the respect of others. With his thoughts still upon him, he makes his way down to the docks... the morning tide is not far away, and time and tide wait for no one. And even if they did, captain Artius certainly doesn't... <><><><><> [GM] Rome 179 A.D. ..... Upon returning home, you learned that Scipio Africanus had lost his political battle with Cato, and gone into self-imposed exile. The next few years pass relatively peacefully, with no wars threatening Roman interests at present. In the year 574, the estate of Persius Romulus Solus is due to become property of the Republic. Achilleus, surprisingly enough, seems to have remembered this little bit of information. One evening you return to the estate after having been gone for several weeks, and find that a large number of the most expensive artworks, weapons, rugs, and even some of the furniture, has been taken away. The servants dolefully tell you that Achilleus appeared with a number of friends, and helped themselves. Achilleus and his friends were well-armed, so the servants felt it unwise to resist...and, passed on from Persius' time, the servants have always understood intuitively that the authorities should be called only as a last resort where you and your affairs are concerned. Additionally, they are not certain whether Achilleus was even acting outside his legal rights, since he is in effect an "heir" to the estate. (Over the years, you have come to trust a few of the servants, particularly those older ones who lived here under Persius...and two who were actually young slaves of Persius' when you first came here, following the Battle of Cannae. Nothing is ever said explicitly, but you are pretty sure that a few of them have deduced your nature, despite your identity change. Probably some of Persius' long-time servants knew what he was, and passed on this information to a trusted handful of proteges.) <><><><><> [gaius] He smiles in amusement as he listens to the servants' tale. "I didn't think the uncultured barbarian had the wits in him to remember a date, or to plan for the future even if he did." A moment's thought, and he shrugs... "No matter... the estate will be going to the Senate... I wish I had enough money to bid for it, but likely they'll just turn it over to somebody. Actually, the theft may be helpful... with the valuables gone, the Senate may actually be willing to put up the property for sale, and sell it cheaply, since it has to be furnished. And I don't get it, I care less whether the next owner is missing the artwork that Persius gathered, although I shudder at the thought of where it will end up when that barbarian is done disposing of it. And your quarters were untouched, so Achilleus didn't cause me or you any harm. You did right not to call the milites." Although Gaius had to sleep on a worn visitor's couch from the storeroom on that night, it didn't bother him unduly. Knowing that the estate was not going to be available for much longer, he had gotten a small but comfortable room near the Tiber's banks, and only came to the estate every couple of days, to eat food prepared by the excellent long- time cook, and so that his presence kept Achilleus from being too troublesome to the servants on the rare occasions that Achilleus was actually at the estate in the evenings. Soon he'd lose this nice place to sleep and eat... but on the other hand, he would no longer have to worry about the servants, make sure that enough money was available and properly spent to maintain the estate and house the servants... that would be the problem of the next owner, and hopefully the owner would be conscientious and honorable, and take good care of the place. <><><><><> [GM] 178 B.C. The estate is sold, but not cheaply....unfortunately, a wealthier man than you takes a keen interest in it when it goes up for sale, and you have no hope of outbidding him. But your new home is comfortable enough, if not quite as luxurious. Another year passes, when for the first time in a while, you sense the buzz of another Immortal, while you are relaxing at home. Achilleus, so far as you know, still lives in Rome, but you have avoided each other by unspoken agreement. Until now. Your house-servant answers your gate, and returns to tell you that your visitor's name is Achilleus; he says he's an "old friend" of yours. <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius looks up from the scroll he was reading, and puts it aside. "Yes, Tibus... I've known him for a while. Please show him in, I'll see him here." He stands at Achilleus' entrance... although he dislikes the person, he supposes that Achilleus can't help being himself, considering that he was born a barbarian and will probably remain one until he dies. <><><><><> [GM] You're rather unnerved to see that Achilleus has apparently moderated his high living and begun exercising again. He's lost most of the flab he carried the last time you saw him, and the muscles that he never really lost since his mortal years are once again bulging and firm beneath his cheap tunic. He looks around at your quarters with a sardonic expression, then looks back at you. "Looks like you've done pretty well for yourself, Gaius." Ignoring the look of antipathy that his familiar use of your first name generates, he continues: "I just came to let you know, there's another Immortal in Rome....some Spanish barbarian named Ladimor. And he's shown up to challenge the two of us." He grimaces, and clenches his hands together in a double-fist, cracking his knuckles. "He challenged me first. I figure I can take him....but thought you'd better be aware, just in case. You living easy all these years and everything, maybe you'd want to....consider your options." He grins. <><><><><> [gaius] Although he doesn't show it, a thrill of fear runs through Gaius's body. No matter how expected an event may become with time, nothing can fully prepare one to hear that he will be challenged to the death. Although this is not yet come to that, anticipation combines with imagination and lets loose the horses of the mind. But it takes no longer than a moment to put his fear aside... as a soldier, death was always possible. And here the fight would be no worse than even... in Gaius' favor, in fact, if the barbarian attempted to meet his staff with a single sword. And that was if he even had to get to that point, considering that Achilleus was no mean opponent himself. Standing upright, he puts aside his dislike of Achilleus... after all, barbarian born he may be, but at least he was much closer to a Roman citizen than some unwashed crude barbarian from the hinterlands. Although Achilleus would be surprised to hear about his short but daily weapons practice, Gaius was himself pleased to see that Achilleus had also begun practicing again, after the years of partying and carelessness. Though a corner of his mind wonders whether Achilleus was merely being prudent like himself, or if he had some other motive in mind, in taking up weapons seriously again. "Not the most welcome of news that I've heard recently, but I didn't expect you to see me just to discuss the weather or the latest trade rumors. Has this Iberian set a time that he expects you to meet this challenge? I'll want to be there to see him... and you'll probably want me there, too.... Persius was clear that a challenge should be fairly fought, but that doesn't mean that all other Immortals have honor... and we'll want to make sure he doesn't bring friends, or cheat somehow." <><><><><> [GM] Achilleus looks a bit surprised. "Well.....certainly, if you'd like to watch. Of course, he may think *we* have treachery in mind.....but who cares what a barbarian thinks?" Achilleus shrugs, while you suppress the smile that this irony elicits. "We're to meet again day after tomorrow, at an aquaduct nexus near my home. A nice secluded spot." <><><><><> [gaius] "Sounds fine. Surprisingly polite of the man, to give us so much time... I would have expected one of those hotblooded people to come in yelling for you to draw your sword. Perhaps he has travelled enough to have learned some manners." Sitting down again, seeing that there is no great need for hurry, he waves at the couch that is on the other side of the low table from his own... "Would you care for a repast and a cup of wine? It's still early, but perhaps not too much so..." Although he doesn't care greatly for the idea, it is possible that Achilleus may be dead by the second afternoon from now... being polite for a couple of days will do Gaius no harm, and the effort may stand him in good stead with the gods. <><><><><> [GM] Achilleus is doubly-surprised at your hospitality. He accepts it, and you spend the rest of the evening with him as he works steadily at getting drunk. He seems to have acquired some wisdom over the last two decades...he makes occasional references to current goings-on in Rome, at least enough to indicate that he's paying some attention to politics and current events. He talks of joining the Legions, and ascending to a position of greater prestige that way....having failed to note the diminishing mobility between social classes- though the Rome has not yet become as stagnant as it will in the next century, right now, with the Republic at peace, a military career is not a sure ticket to the Senate as it once was. Achilleus is, however, still at heart a cultureless boor, and you're glad to finally be rid of him when he leaves, late at night, clapping you on the shoulder as if you are old friends and slurring "Us Romans...gotta schtick together....agains' these burburriens..." He certainly has no difficulty exceeding his immortal alcohol tolerance....as your diminished wine stocks now show. But not to worry, he'll certainly be sober by the day after tomorrow. Whatever else you've observed of the man, you're pretty sure he's not stupid enough to not take this fight seriously. <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius smiles at the irony in Achilleus' drunken sentence, thinking that there may be different levels of barbarians... but the only true Romans are those born there. After a brief pause watching the other man walk down the street, he goes inside the house, and spends a little time lighting a taper in the shrine, to the family spirit, Mars, and Jupiter... the gods of Rome should be much stronger here than any gods the other barbarian may have brought from Iberia, and obtaining their aid could be invaluable. Not that the gods spend much time helping or hindering mortals, but some prudence never hurts. Leaving the short taper in the room, he wanders around the house a bit, looking around and making plans for the day after the morrow. <><><><><> [GM] Two days pass. You arrive at the designated duel site early. Achilleus is already there. He's stretching, showing thickly muscled arms and a barrel chest. His belly protrudes a bit over his belt, a still-visible remnant of his years of idle living. But despite the excess flab, he's definitely a formidable individual. He holds a gladius, and carries an extra one on his belt. His sword-arm is armored with a studded galerus, and he holds a small gladiator's shield, a parma. Aside from the galerus and parma, knee greaves, and a gladiator's helmet that currently lies on the ground at his feet, Achilleus is unarmored. His choice of a gladius particularly concerns you, as it's a small weapon, and not suited for decapitating blows. Of course, if he succeeds in stabbing his opponent to death, he can then cut off the Iberian's head at his leisure. Achilleus looks up at you with a grin and a nod. "Haven't been in a lethal duel since.....well, my last one." Apparently referring to the one which made him an immortal. The outcome of his last such duel doesn't seem to concern him now. You can't help admiring his confidence; if he has any fear, a true Roman couldn't hide it better. Both of you tense, and instinctively become more alert as you sense another immortal presence. The man who comes down the stairs from the street above is more heavily armored than Achilleus, with a mail shirt and heavy bronze arm and leg guards. He carries the customary Iberian falcata, and a large, square shield. "What is this?" he growls. "Are you planning some kind of treachery, Roman?" The voice is familiar. As his eyes turn to you, you recognize him despite the helmet and mask that covers his face. "Ladimor" is the man you last met, perhaps ten years ago, on Sicily....a Spanish mercenary whom you knew as "Malus." "Gaius," he says, with a menacing inflection. "I wasn't sure if you were here in Rome or not." <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius stands upright and turns to meet the mercenary, his straight back and stiff posture giving the lie to the staff that he is apparently using as support. "A pleasant greeting, from a pleasant man. I'm amused to see that the years have not managed to polish even the surface, Malus. Or do you prefer Latimer, now, seeing that the other name is ill-omened. Well, of a certainty, you now know whether I am here in Rome or not." A short pause, not quite long enough to give Latimer the chance to respond, then he continues.."No, I'm not here for treachery, just to see that the challenge is fairly posed and met." With his bold words, Gaius' impassive face neither gives assurance nor sheds doubt upon his ability to perform what he implies his duties would be, in the case of foul play. <><><><><> [GM] You sense, rather than see, Ladimor's sneer behind his metal facemask. "As you wish, Roman. Very accomodating of you, actually. When I'm finished with your chubby friend, I'll take you. Such a pity Rome will be left bereft of immortal native sons...at least until she produces another one for me to kill." Achilleus says nothing, simply stoops to pick up his gladiator's helmet, and places it on his head. <><><><><> [gaius] A slight frown mars Gaius's impassive visage, perhaps of anger, perhaps of distaste. "Maybe so. It's in the god's hands, now... but I think that barbarian peasant scum like you will be explaining your mistakes to your unworthy gods, when you're done with my friend..." Probably Latimer will be more experienced than to get too angry over a pre-battle taunt, but if he doesn't.... angry against a cool Achilleus is not a good situation to be in. <><><><><> [GM] As you expected, your taunt elicits nothing more than another half- concealed sneer. Then Ladimor turns his full attention to Achilleus. "Well, Gaius, if I fail to send this barbarian thug to his heathen gods, I'm counting on you to do it for me," Achilleus says, echoing your insult uncreatively. "No 'if' about it, you effeminate dungheap!" Ladimor snarls. Clearly no more witty than Achilleus when it comes to taunts- you can think of many things to call Achilleus, but 'effeminate' certainly would not occur to you! You have no more time to ponder their pre-battle exchange of jibes; with a fierce cry, Ladimor raises his falcatta and rushes towards Achilleus. More heavily armored, but still lighter on his feet, Ladimor attacks savagely, with a flurry of blows that Achilleus barely parries with his small shield. Each one nicks another chunk out of the parma....soon the gladiator will be left without a shield. His counterattacks are tentative, mostly feints, and Ladimor evades them easily. They circle round and round, Ladimor stepping in to chop and slash viciously, then backing off, to take full advantage of the longer reach his larger weapon gives him. Achilleus puts more effort into avoiding the falcatta than trying to close the distance and put his gladius to good use. Ladimor draws first blood, with a stroke that catches Achilleus on the shoulder of his shield-arm. It cuts deep, but not deeply enough to sever bone. Achilleus winces and redoubles his efforts to parry and dodge. Ladimor is a battle-hardened warrior, probably the victor of more than one previous duel with other immortals, while Achilleus, for all that he's been working out and getting back into practice, has been mostly sedentary for the past twenty years. It shows. Achilleus seems stuck on the defensive, and while you know there's a time and a place to fight defensively- both in warfare, and in personal combat- you also know that no one ever wins on the defensive. With blood streaming down his body from his shoulder wound, Achilleus also seems to be breathing heavily, and Ladimor is correspondingly exultant, striking eagerly again and again, catching Achilleus for a second time, on his right wrist. The galerus absorbs most of the blow, but you see blood trickling down his sword-arm, and Achilleus' grip on his Gladius seems less firm. A sudden lunge from Achilleus almost catches Ladimor by surprise; he narrowly deflects the gladius away from his vitals, and raises his shield to block Achilleus' parma, with which the gladiator tried to smack the Iberian across the face. Achilleus backs away, and Ladimor closes on him again, a little more warily. Achilleus suddenly leaps forward, lowering his head, charging Ladimor. The Iberian backpedals in surprise, brings his sword down in an arc, to chop into Achilleus' collarbone, but on the right side, where the galerus protects. It draws more blood, but Achilleus gets his arms around Ladimor, still clutching his gladius in one hand but dropping the now- almost-useless parma....and the two of them go lurching off the paved walkway, and into the aquaduct. It's hard to say if Achilleus planned this all along, or if the idea suddenly occurred to him, but both you and Ladimor now realize you may have underestimated the gladiator. Ladimor perhaps too late. Achilleus' specialty was wrestling....and he's now locked in close combat, in waist-deep water, with a metal-clad opponent. He does his best to keep himself and, more importantly, Ladimor, off their feet....which keeps Ladimor weighed down and struggling for breath. A crimson cloud suddenly blooms in the water around the two combatants. You see Achilleus pull back a bloody gladius from Ladimor's side, then thrust it forward again. The tables are turned; now his short thrusting weapon has a decided advantage over Ladimor's larger cutting sword. Ladimor, staggering, choking, and apparently half-blind, manages to catch Achilleus with a blow to the face, with the pommel of his sword. Achilleus is knocked backwards, giving Ladimor a chance to finally put his feet under him and stand upright. You see blood gushing out of his side, and from his chest. He sways, holding his sword up and swinging it side to side in Achilleus' direction. The big gladiator takes a breath, and disappears underwater. From your vantage point above, you can see him clearly, closing on Ladimor, but the Iberian apparently cannot. He pivots desperately, trying to be on guard from whatever point Achilleus might surface. Instead, he goes down with a startled cry as Achilleus seizes his legs and drags him under. The last font of blood had already been carried away by the aquaduct's slow but steady current. A new cloud boils out around the thrashing combatants, obscuring your view of them. Achilleus rises from the water, holding a clump of Ladimor's thick black hair in a tight fist. A slick, bloody film covers him, as well as the helmetless face of the sputtering, gasping Spaniard. Achilleus raises his gladius above his head, and brings it down on Ladimor's neck. It actually takes two more savage chops before Ladimor's head comes free. Blood was spouting in jets from the gashes in Ladimor's neck. It comes in a fountain now- but as his head leaves his neck, the blood seems to glow and become incandescent in mid-air, then it simply boils away into nothingness, without coming back down. Achilleus stands there a moment, breathing heavily, blood still flowing freely from his slowly-healing wounds. You feel a prickling at the nape of your neck....like the buzz of another immortal, but stronger, and different. Ladimor's body, lying at the bottom of the aquaduct and slowly being tugged away from Achilleus by the current, suddenly jerks straight up, and bursts through the water's surface. A nimbus of light surrounds it, and then the water erupts in a sparkling light-show. Electricity pours over the water's surface in sheets, crackling and sending jagged bolts flickering up and down the length of this tunnel, several striking very close to you, and forcing you to back away, shielding your eyes from the blinding light at the center of the display. You seem to hear Achilleus crying out in pain- or maybe something else. The roiling water bubbles and splashes violently against the sides of the aquaduct, and steam boils out of the channel. The blazing spectacle seems to go on forever, but it was probably only a few moments....then slowly, the lightning dies down, the heat on your face fades, and only a few sparks are left running along the surface of the water. In the aftermath of the Quickening, steam fills the tunnel, so thickly you can barely see the water's edge, and hissing drowns out the lap of the water against the scorched sides of the aquaduct. Then you hear a groan, and see a bulky shape lurch halfway out of the water, on the side nearest you. Achilleus clings to the side of the aquaduct, face pressed against the stones. "Gaaaaaaaaa!" he says. <><><><><> [gaius] Questions run through his head, questions that for now must remain unanswered. Deserted this place may be, but that doesn't mean that such a show could not attract someone come to see what the lights and noise are about. With a sigh of relief at seeing that Achilleus survived the lightning even though he was standing in waters, Gauis rushes forward, extending his staff towards Achilleus. "Achilleus ! Grab this, and hold on", he yells before bracing himself to pull the no-doubt exhausted gladiator up and out of the channel. <><><><><> [GM] Achilleus grabs your staff, and with great effort you haul him out of the aquaduct. He sways on his feet, but you notice his eyes almost aglow. His staggering walk as you help him away from the duel site is more akin to that of a drunk than someone recovering from an exhausting fight. He seems to be recovering at about the same speed that his wounds mend though. <><><><><> [gaius] Bearing up under the partial weight of Achilleus that he is supporting to force the gladiator into walking a straight line, Gaius makes his way parallel to the aquaduct. Although he'd like to get out of sight, it is clearly a bad idea to take Achilleus through the more public streets, covered as he is in blood, and walking like a drunk. A nook of some shrubbery or stonework that is hidden from observation on most sides would be an ideal place to halt and see if Achilleus will come back to his senses, so Gaius continues by the aquaduct, looking for a place to rest and recover. <><><><><> [GM] At a suitable recess in the passageway along the alcove, you let Achilleus sit and regain his senses. His wrist is already healed; the last wound to mend is the deep gash in his shoulder, and it's already down to an angry pink scar. In another few minutes, it's gone. "By the Gods!" Achilleus exclaims. "I can't begin to describe what that felt like! It was....you can't imagine, Gaius! That bloody fool....I knew *everything* he knew, although-" he frowns, "it's fading fast, just a few memories now....his travels, his homeland, I see his mother...." the gladiator shakes his head. "Bah, that's not important. He killed two other immortals before I slew him...I can actually sense little pieces of them too, in what I took from Malus. That was his real name. And now," Achilleus rises, slowly and grandly, flexing his muscles. "I have all the power that was contained in them.....Gaius, you have not lived until you've tasted the Quickening!" He laughs. "For an instant there, while Malus' Quickening was going through me, I could sense YOUR thoughts too! I could hear every little sound and smell little smells from all over Rome...I know you're wondering how that can be, in the middle of that lightning storm and all that steam, but I could!" He shakes his head, then grins. "So that's what it's like," he says softly. <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius nods his head up and down sadly, as he listens to Achilleus' description. With a heartfelt sigh, he responds in a low tone... "I was afraid it was something like that, Achilleus. Why else would somebody who could live forever be so foolish as to challenge others who know how to kill him and who may have the skills to defeat him? It had to be an experience that was greatly desirable... and I had no doubts that it was indescribable, since for all his years, Persius couldn't give me a good description of it. I just hope it doesn't lead you to seeking for it until it causes your death, like it did to that imbecile behind us. But for all that you like to pose a thoughtless fool, you're more capable of thinking ahead, and using what's on your shoulders." He stands up. "You want to wait here, while I go get a clean toga and tunic ? Or I could lend you my tunic, if you don't mind walking the streets half-dressed." <><><><><> [GM] Achilleus leaves Rome the following year, and you occasionally receive correspondence from your elder peers, or messages conveyed by other, traveling immortals, that as you feared, a taste of the Quickening left the former gladiator wanting more. He has become a hunter of other immortals. He only visits Rome once in the following decades. Your meeting is tense, as you are very wary of his intentions. He greets you affably enough, but there's a hardness in him that wasn't there before his battle with Malus. Likewise, his body is now lithe, muscular and deadly....steeled by years of combat, which is, on reflection, merely a continuation of the profession he had as a mortal. But now he fights for no one but himself. Achilleus' manner may be friendly, but his gaze is appraising. You don't know if he really does feel some sense of "Roman solidarity", or simply decided the time wasn't right to come for your head yet.....but you're relieved when he leaves, and you have a definite sense of foreboding about your next meeting. The third Macedonian War (171 B.C. - 168 B.C.) is brief, with Rome once again victorious and in possession of more territory than she had before the war began. In the aftermath, Macedonia is partitioned into four autonomous territories, and one thousand hostages are sent by the Achean League to Rome. One of these hostages turns out to be a Greek immortal who "died" during the war. He was already educated about the whys and wherefores of immortality by your old acquaintance, Alexander of Sparta, who sends a letter with the young Critias, asking you to "extend him all due hospitality". Having no reason to be hostile to the Greek immortal, and knowing that Alexander is probably no mean warrior, being at least as old as Persius was and probably older, you find it easy enough to coexist with Critias in Rome. One of his fellow hostages, a historian named Polybius, begins writing a scholarly treatise on the recording of history, in which you take some interest. When Rhodes falls to Athens in 166 B.C., you receive a visit shortly thereafter from Semoch, who fled Rhodes just prior to the final siege. He's quite indignant about your "uncivilized brute of a countryman," Achilleus, who apparently had more to do with Semoch's flight than the Athenian war galleys. "We are the keepers of history," Semoch tells you. "We are uniquely privileged to observe and remember everything that happens. Empires rise and fall, cities are built and then crumble, and we see it all. If I was inclined to believe there was some metaphysical 'reason' for our being, I would say it's to ensure that mankind's accomplishments are NOT forgotten, that history does NOT fade to dust." He glares at you. "Headhunting immortals are an insult to our race! Aren't you embarrassed that a *Roman* is behaving like a primitive Keltoi savage?" Semoch always has been a bit pompous and self-righteous. You're not certain how he's survived for so long, constantly immersed in his books. You've never even see him carrying a weapon. But what does he expect YOU to do about Achilleus? Pick up a sword and go hunting for him yourself, like a "primitive Keltoi savage"? He doesn't tell you where he's going after this, but presumably, he'll find a library somewhere. He did make a request before leaving, that you obtain a copy of Polybius' work in progress when and if the mortal finishes it. "It looks quite promising," Semoch comments. "If mortal society doesn't deem it worthy of dissemination, I'd like a copy for my own archives." Almost twenty years have passed since the last major military engagement. Rome is at peace....and restless. Hawks are stirring in the Senate, desirous of more glory, more conquest, and more opportunities to aggrendize themselves and their families, particularly if their sons, in the Legion, are able to be involved in another victorious campaign. Under the terms of Carthage's surrender in the last Punic War, they cannot make war against any other nation without the approval of the Senate. They begin sending envoys to Rome, protesting that Masinissa, who defected from Carthage during the last war, is harrying them on land and at sea. Rome denies them permission to retaliate. In fact, Rome is covertly urging Masinissa on, at the behest of the Senate warmongers, hoping that Carthage will finally respond to the provocations. In 150 B.C., they do. The Carthaginians gather troops and strike out against their former general.....and in the Senate, Cato pronounces "Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam". Carthage must be destroyed. <><><><><> [gaius] Another time of conflict is coming. Again, this war could change the future of power in the Mediterranean, establishing Rome as the strongest power by far, perhaps even extending its influence to the northern coast of Africa. For years, Gaius had been faithful to Persius' request, that he always maintain an immortal presence in Rome. But now, he had waited for many years, and while Achilleus had turned out to be dissappointing indeed, Criteus seemed likely to be willing to remain alone in the city, minding his 'job' as Gaius' hireling, and recording what had occurred while Gaius was gone. Rome's underhanded dealings were, again, repulsive to the the Pontio, but it was likely that his presence in Africa could save other immortals after their rebirth. After all, if the warhawks in the Senate would have their way, Carthage was likely to be destroyed as a nation, with a good deal of bloodshed. This was one of the rare times that Gaius felt sorry that he had not continued the political life, choosing to eschew the risks for the safer, less public life of a trader. But now might be the time to take some risks, to see some action, other than the now-boring trading voyages to Iberia, Gaul, Greece, and the states of Asia Minor. So, Gaius prepared the way to enter the legions again, knowing that with the army increasing its size in anticipation of conflict, skilled and educated volunteers would have little trouble in achieving a position of some authority, which may allow him to both record the war with some more knowledge, and to be able to do something about saving other immortals involved in the hostilities. It was time to send out a message to Critias, inviting him over for dinner, to let him know that Gaius would be leaving him alone for perhaps a year or so, and to make plans. <><><><><> [GM] During the past thirty years, Gaius has witnessed.... -The building of the first stone bridge in Rome (the Pons Aemilius) -The first paved streets in the city -The first water clock (clepsydra) -The growth of the slave trade, as Macedonian slaves flood the market following the Battle of Pydna -The career of the dramatist Terence Your brother, Diocletian, died twenty years ago, and since then your family has continued to prosper, but you've felt less of a personal connection to the Portios; your youngest sister, with whom you were never particularly close, still lives, but she's a doddering old thing, and the one glimpse you got of her, several years ago, made you unwilling to watch the ongoing deterioration of your mortal kin. Thus, you've gradually allowed your connections to the family fortunes to fall away; your nephews and grand-nephews seem to be doing well enough. You know that placing yourself back into the military, particularly at a rank somewhat above that of a spear-carrying grunt, will be costly, and you'll also have to fashion a new identity for yourself; your current one is too well-established as that of a Roman merchant, which would not prevent you from becoming an officer, but it would prevent anyone from taking you seriously and giving you any real responsibility. For that matter, you know that your knowledge of strategy and tactics is quite rusty; it might behoove you to read some of Scipio Africanus's old treatises from the last Punic war, to brush up on methods of defeating Carthaginians. It's truly a shame that Hannibal never wrote a volume on warfare himself, for it would surely be treasured more highly than anything written by any Roman general. Critias arrives at your home promptly on time; unlike many of his countrymen, the Greek immortal has never seemed burdened by his status as a "prisoner" in Rome; aside from being watched closely to ensure they don't try to leave, or foment unrest, the Achean hostages, chosen for their political and familial ties, are mostly free to do as they please. The former Greek soldier (he was a low-level officer) has now become something of a scholar and patron of the arts, enjoying the burgeoning culture of Rome. He salutes you as your servants welcome him. "So....I understand your countrymen have decided it's time for another war," he says. "You Romans never will forgive Carthage for producing Hannibal, will you?" <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius stands as Critias enters, and waves him to a couch on the other side of the low table, upon which is a small midafternoon meal: olives, oiled bread, green peppers in olive oil, and some salted fish. Together with the omnipresent watered wine, of course. "No, Critias. Unfortunately Rome never forgave Hannibal, and now it cannot forget him. He was a great man, who deserved defeat and death for all the Roman deaths he caused... but still, he deserved more honor, and a better end than he was given. And now, they will crush Carthage, make sure no other like him arises again. Not that I think we need to worry about Carthage, their star is on the wane while our power is rising. But too many of the people who have ears listening to them in the Senate heard about the Great Enemy, Carthage, while they were young... and want to destroy their childhood chimera, now that they have the chance." "I've been waiting for an opportunity and a reason to leave Rome and travel for a while. It is home now and forever, but a man cannot spend all his life at home and consider himself as experienced. Also, it is good to change identities a little ahead of necessity at times, else I might get too comfortable and wait too long some day, and be forced to leave Rome for a while without my choosing it. So now I'm choosing to leave, while there is another immortal whom I trust here, to ensure that the details of Rome's years are not lost to the ages." "You are now, I hope, experienced enough to be reasonably safe here for some years. Don't forget to keep your hand in at swordplay, there is no telling when some idiotic barbarian may come through looking for your head. If a former Roman gladiator named Achilleus returns to Rome, try to avoid him.. he is dangerous, and I think that he would be quite interested in taking the head of any younger immortal." Finished (at least temporarily) with his long diatribe, Gaius pauses to take some olives and a pepper, giving Critias time to marshall his thoughts and make reply. <><><><><> [GM] Critias raises an eyebrow. "Hmmm," he says. After sipping wine and gathering his thoughts, he says "Well, you know we've all been granted permission to return home now, don't you?" As a matter of fact, you didn't. Critias proceeds to explain that the Senate just released all the Achean hostages; most, including the historian Polybius, are already planning their trip home. "I happen to like this city of yours. There's a lot to learn here. And, thanks to my immortality, I need to separate myself from my family anyway." He sighs. "So, for now I do not mind remaining here to watch Rome for you. But, I cannot promise to stay here indefinitely. Like you, eventually I will probably wish to see other places." <><><><><> [gaius] As he hears the news about Critias' freedom, Gaius smiles broadly and stands up. "A toast to your freedom, may you keep it forever...", before pouring out a small libation and finishing the cup. After sitting down again, he continues more calmly... "That is good news indeed, to hear that you are now free to leave. What you say is wise, to remain here or at least away from you home for some years, so you can make your own life. But take it from me, eventually you will want to go back and see your birthplace again, whether you choose to remain there long or not." "I don't expect this campaign to take long, perhaps a year or two. Carthage really can't put up much of a fight, and all the little jackals around the coast are just looking for an opportunity to bite off pieces of their territory. My old tutor asked me to remain in Rome, but even though this is my homeland, I only agreed to do it for a long enough time to decide whether I wanted to remain here for many years. Certainly I will not ask any such thing of you, to remain here against your will. Stay as long as you please, and go freely when you wish it." "One thing, though... if you are certain that you will remain a couple of years, I wonder if you would mind purchasing this house from me, and selling it back when I return. It is better to change the ownership of the house once in a while, so that it doesn't remain in one person's hands for a century." <><><><><> [GM] Critias agrees readily. "Certainly, a few years is not a problem. In all likelihood, I will remain here until well after the conflict with Carthage is settled." He raises his glass to you. "Good fortune, Gaius. Are you at all concerned about meeting enemy immortals? There must have been a Carthaginian or two to become immortal, some time in all these centuries." <><><><><> [gaius] "Well, I am a little concerned. But not greatly. I can fight reasonably well..., and I think that any Carthaginian immortals will have better things to do than to pick a fight with a Roman legionnaire. I'm not one of those who go out hunting for heads... I always believed that when you go looking for a fight you'll find one, and when you don't, you probably won't. Put that together with the chaos that will be there, and I really doubt that I'll get involved in a challenge. Not that I won't be prepared, of course..." Gaius picks another slice of fish in oil from the tray, then changes the subject somewhat... "I plan to leave in a couple of weeks, I've already found a legion that is forming and looking for unattached veteran soldiers to provide some backbone for the fresh recruits. I'm going to have a large party next week, say goodbye to all my friends in the case that I don't return. Which I won't, at least not under the same name. You'll be there, won't you? After all, it's not like I throw a party every year ." <><><><><> [GM] Your party is a festive event, with all the fine wine you'd been hoarding for decades flowing freely; little reason to continue holding onto it now. Critias attends, of course. You make your farewells to all your friends, knowing that Critias is probably the only one you'll see again...or at least, the only one who will see YOU again. Your Legion assembles, in high spirits but with low discipline. Maybe it's just your age showing, but it seems this generation of Roman soldiers takes itself far less seriously than yours did. Perhaps it takes a real threat to the Republic every once in a while, to stiffen the resolve of its defenders. Many of the men seem to think this will be a romp in the desert. You remember the ferocity of Hannibal's troops, and know you'll need to spend extra effort hammering these green troops into shape. 149 B.C. Four months later, two Roman armies land on Africa's shores. After a token effort to repulse the invading Legions, the Carthaginian army retreats behind the city walls. A quick parley elicits complete capitulation from the Carthaginian senate, and for a day, rumors fly that there will be no war after all. The troops are rather disgruntled to have come all this way only to have Rome's mighty foe from the days of yore roll over and surrender with barely a fight. However, while the Carthaginians agree to cease their war with Masinissa, and to submit to all future demands of the Roman Senate, they refuse to open their gates. The Consul demands nothing less than the opening of the city, to be occupied by Rome's legions; Carthage balks. And so the siege begins. At first it seems it will be over in a matter of weeks; the Roman army of over 40,000 far outnumbers the 25,000 troops that Carthage raises. Long reliant on mercenaries, none of her Spanish or Greek or Italian allies are here to help Carthage now. 6,000 Numidian troops do come to the city's defense, but the treacherous Masanissa brings his own Numidian army to join with his Roman masters. Most importantly of all, Carthage has no Hannibal in her hour of greatest need. However, Carthage's walls are high, and they are fighting for their lives. They have nowhere to run, and their only option is to fight to the last man. And so they do. A dreadful, long year passes. The Roman fleet forms a blockade; the Roman army prevents any supplies from reaching Carthage overland. Ballista and catapults hammer the city walls, day in and day out. Still the Carthaginians hold out. At the end of the second year of siege, the Roman army is as determined to break their foe as ever, but no longer are the troops bright-eyed and eager to take Carthage for the glory of Rome. Now they are tired, sick of the desert, bored with the monotony of the siege, and longing for home. Their eyes burn with hatred for the Carthaginians that remain stubbornly locked inside their city walls, preventing the exhausted legionnaires from being able to pack up and go home. They are locked here, in a neverending struggle with a foe that refuses to give up. Carthage keeps them from going home; Carthage must be destroyed. 147 B.C. The Senate is growing tired of the siege as well. They want to see Carthage destroyed, so the Legions can come home, and be dispatched elsewhere. A rebellion broke out in Macedonia last year, which resulted in Macedonia becoming a Roman province, but with so much of Rome's attention on North Africa, there is unrest in Achaea again. Fresh troops arrive from Rome, along with a new Consul; Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, a general cut in the same mold as an earlier Publius Cornelius Scipio, the one who defeated Hannibal. This newer, younger commander begins revitalizing the siege effort, and implements new tactics, even reorganizing the armies when necessary. Morale begins to rise again, and there is a sense that the end is in sight. Shortly after the arrival of the new command staff, you are at a meeting of your Legion's officers when you feel a sensation you haven't felt since you left Rome; the buzz that warns of another immortal nearby. The flap of the officers' tent is drawn back, and one of Publius Cornelius's Tribunes enters, followed by three junior officers. It appears to be a routine dispatch from headquarters, except for the one Optio with curly black hair matted against his head; he must have just taken off the helmet that he now holds cradled in one arm. "Ave, Centurion!" says Achilleus, saluting you with a smirk. <><><><><> [gaius] The siege was at first an interesting endeavor, a welcome return to the martial dreams of his younger years. But as the months and then years dragged on, the interest turned sour. This was not what he had hoped for, this repetitive patrol-standing around the walls, with rare patrols around the siege camp, only slightly less boring. The arrival of the new commander had Gaius as excited as the rawest recruit. He well remembered how much more an effective leader could get out of his troops, and the changes in methods seemed to bode well for an early end to the siege. The meeting was likely another discussion on how to improve the siege, to bring this to a quick end. Still, Gaius approached it eagerly... after such a long time doing nothing effective, the efficiency with which the legions moved again was proof that the methods at least were useful in improving morale. As he feels another immortal approaching, his trepidation and excitement arise... this was ultimately what he had come to Africa for, to meet new immortals. Although it was likely that in this place, the immortal would merely be some other Roman or ally, they may well never have met if Gaius had remained in Italy. His surprise when the remembered visage of Achilleus almost causes him to miss the salute, but the reflexes drilled into them have been reawakened, and he instinctively returns the salute, while allowing a frown of puzzlement to cross his face. "Ave, Optio. A surprise, seeing you here..." Achilleus' lack of surprise is interesting... did Achilleus know that Gaius would be here? And if so, did he deliberately come here to meet him? Well, if Achilleus had news for him, there was little doubt that he would soon let Gaius know. <><><><><> [GM] "Indeed?" Achilleus says. "Critias told me you came over with the Legions. Out to get revenge for Cannae, and spending all those years as a Bithynian slave?" He looks up at the Tribune. "Ah well, perhaps we'll get a chance to talk over old times later. There's a war going on, you know." The former gladiator winks, and joins his fellow officers for the briefing. He doesn't tarry when it's over, merely gives you another nod as he leaves the tent, and disappears across the camp, heading back for the Consul's headquarters with the men he came with. <><><><><> [gaius] As Achilleus walks away, Gaius thinks that it's natural that Achilleus would immediately think of revenge as a motive. Not that it's not a reasonable assumption, but he wouldn't consider it as being all _that_ obvious as the only reason he could be here. Still, Achilleus is definitely right about one thing... there is a war to conduct here. On that thought, Gaius ducks his head, and heads into the tent, to see what news were just brought. <><><><><> [GM] It seems that spies have managed to get in and out of the city, bringing confirmation of rumors that have circulated among the sieging Romans for months.....the residents of Carthage are in dire straights indeed. Starvation and disease is now killing more Carthaginians than Roman stones and arrows. The population is demoralized and desparate. But still they will not surrender. Consul Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus believes that one final all- out attack will breach the walls, with the defenders so greatly reduced in number. He is holding off on the final assault, however, while he sends word back to Rome, asking for instructions regarding the dispensation of the city. The Consul feels it is not necessary to completely destroy Carthage; the Carthaginians surely realize it's only a matter of time now before the city falls. Rome's stated intention of utterly destroying Carthage is the only thing that keeps them from surrendering now; if they're to die anyway, they have no reason not to fight to the last man, woman and child. Publius Cornelius wishes to offer Carthage terms whereby they may be permitted to remain in their city, albeit under Roman occupation, as a defeated Roman territory. Until the Senate replies with either permission or refusal to offer such terms, the Consul is going to maintain the siege but not press it forward. Some greet this with disappointment, but after you've been here for almost three years, another couple of months won't make much difference. Most of the troops want to raze Carthage to the ground, but a few are tired enough of the warfare that they would also like to see Carthage allowed to surrender peacefully. <><><><><> [gaius] Well, not the best of news, but better news than were expected. Cooler heads had pushed for offering acceptable terms to the Carthaginians since the first year, but unfortunately cooler heads were not in charge here. But now, it appeared as if the consul in charge agreed with them, and if his opinion carried enough weight with the Senate, this siege would be over within the month. Encouraged, Gaius stepped out of the tent, and taking a deep breath of the hot air, turned to walk back to his legion. No doubt he could find Achilleus, but the other could more easily find Gaius... and besides, he didn't really enjoy the other's presence. Putting it off for a bit would not be at all undesirable. <><><><><> [GM] Achilleus seems no more interested in going out of his way to meet you than you are in reminiscing over old times with him. You sense his presence now and then as you both move about in the encampment, but you are each busy with your respective duties. It does surprise you a bit that he ever mustered the discipline and savy to become an officer in the Legions, but Achilleus has changed in more than one way since you first met the crude, hedonistic barbarian. A courier from Rome arrives in mere weeks, indicating that any discussion in the Senate was not overlong. Thus the Senate's answer is not surprising; Delenda est Carthage. Destroy the city. Raze it to the ground. Kill every citizen of Carthage who cannot be enslaved, smash their gods, and salt the earth, so that never again will a state arise here that will threaten Rome. The army of Publius Cornelius moves into action, the siege effort redoubled, the troops both grimly determined, and optimistic. As bloody as this job may be, it's a job that will soon be over. On the eve of the final assault, Achilleus finally seeks you out, in your tent. He gives you a perfunctory salute and then enters without actually being invited, indicating that his manners are still as lacking as always. "You've probably heard the same rumors I have, that at least one ancient immortal lives within the city walls, and has been dwelling in Carthage possibly since the city was founded." Achilleus leans back on the stool you grudgingly offered him. "I just wanted to make sure there are no misunderstandings. I'm here for that immortal's head. And any others I may run across as well. If you reach some youngster before I do, fair enough, but don't get between me and my quarry. Are we clear on that, Gaius?" <><><><><> [gaius] Gaius rubs his jaw as he listens to Achilleus, the rough stubble reminding him that the camp is no place for civilized amenities. As the other finishes, he nods his head... "Achilleus, I'm not in favor of going around killing other immortals for the hell of it. I don't see the point of it, nor any good that is likely to come of it, and much bad. But neither am I your master, to dictate what you will do or not. Your decisions are, as always, your own..." "...And, as for as fighting you to preserve a Carthaginian... you're a Roman. While I don't like your looking to kill other immortals, if there is a fight between you and another immortal, unless I have other reasons to want that immortal to live, I will assuredly cheer _you_ on. Better to lose the presence of a Carthaginian that I have never known than that of a fellow Roman, though I doubt that we two will ever get along comfortably well. I'm going to try to keep any immortals that I find out of your way, but that will be to avoid seeing a fight, not to get into one. You will not have to worry about my physically opposing your hunt. And since it's obvious that verbally opposing it does nothing, let us consider that subject ended." Gaius stands up. "One last thing. I've saved this wine for the end of the campaign, but there is a chance we won't meet up then, and I feel it more appropriate to offer a toast now, with you, than later by myself." Pouring the wine into two not-very-clean cups, greatly insulting the vintage, he hands one to Achilleus. "To Rome, may she live eternal as us...", is his toast... and he downs the cup, after pouring out a brief libation.