Chapter 2: Chapter II - Tension in ideas
Auspex Fortress, Raecum
Penultimate month of 575
With the sweet aroma of coffee, sitting in a warm armchair, interested in this object that fosters cultural enrichment and personal fantasy. Arcadio was looking for a way to get away from his reality, from the problems that invaded him.
He was trying to feel like his title marked him.
"Come in!" Reluctantly, he ordered, as he heard a knock at the door.
Montag, one of the fortress guards, rushed into the room with news to deliver.
"Basileu...!
"Look," interrupted the guard.
And looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she pointed to the cover of the book she was reading: "Who rules the crown?"
"Have you ever read it?"
The guard maintained his composure, taking a deep breath, to which he shook his head.
Arcadio, upon receiving the answer, got up from his armchair, leaving the coffee cup carefully on a coffee table, and approached Montag at a slow pace.
Once they were face to face, he pointed to the book again.
"It tells the story of Celer, a fictitious Basileus, who, after a war, brought prosperity to his Empire, surrounding himself with wealth and women, being treated like a god," he exchanged glances with Montag. "Do you think I have those privileges, those riches?
"If, like Basileus, you have the coffers of the Empire at your fingertips...."
"No!" He threw the book on the floor. "You all look like sock suckers, come on! Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me what you think! The truth! Use your judgment!
The guard trembled at the shouts, not knowing what to say.
Instantly, Arcadio sighed wearily, bending down to pick up the book.
"Sorry, Montag. The recent conflicts with the Senate, and, the criticisms for the failure of the expedition have me fed up. I should not have spoken to you like that," he put a hand on the guard's shoulder. "However, I would like to hear you speak the truth."
Montag relaxed, sketching a smile, accepting his apology.
"The truth is that the Senate has you by the balls, Basileus Arcadio".
Arcadio guffawed at his words.
"That's what I was talking about, and please don't refer to me as you," he put the book down on a nearby shelf, and turned his attention to the guard's reason for being in his room.
"Ah, well, someone is coming to see you, my lord."
Arcadio, nodded, turned to the door, and asked to let the seeker pass. Montag did so.
"Philipart!" He shouted excitedly, arms wide open, at the sight of his friend alive.
The two embraced, having not seen each other for a year.
"To what do I owe your visit!"
The joy that had formed on Philipart's face after he broke away from the embrace and received the question was instantly erased.
His expression became serious, revealing his dark circles under his eyes, caused by having traveled all night without rest.
"Crásico," it was enough to say a name for the Basileus to understand the reason for his arrival.
"You Heard," sighing, he turned around, walking to the window, "Nazly told you, didn't she?" He asked without looking at his.
"Right," he replied. "We must do something about this man and the Senate, this situation has already gone beyond the tolerable limit!"
"Well, I can't do much! I just do what the Senate says: What do they want to do, a military operation? What do they want to build something? Do they want to change the laws? I have no choice but to accept what they ask."
"And I can't use my men! The bastards have disabled all nearby armies until further notice!"
"They're both to blame," Montag blurted suddenly, standing to one side of the door. "They are both inept."
Philipart and Arcadio, silent, frowning, did not give reason to their words, they were of the few times in which a guard, listener of the affairs of his master, gave an opinion on the matterthey were obliged to stay out of what was being talked about.
"You, Magister Philipart, could have arrested and executed all the senators when you still had total control over the entire army. And you, Arcadio, you say that some of us look like sock-suckers, but you are a complete egg-sucker with no filler."
"What?!" They both shouted.
Arcadio took a dagger out of his tunic.
Philipart took position, raising his fists and leaning on his right leg.
Montag kept his composure, undaunted.
"Oh... Excuse me, did it hurt? Did the truth hurt?! Look at them, men who were once glorious and respected, now they are seen as the bitches of the Senate!"
Those words struck a deep chord in their hearts. Arcadius put away his dagger. Philipart resumed a normal position.
With crestfallen heads.
"Good," Cynther sighed. "Tell us, what should we do to try to fix this situation?"
"And how hard will it be?" Added Arcadio.
The room was flooded in Montag's laughter.
"Unbelievable! The image of the Empire, and, the one who controlled the forces, asking for help from a simple fortress guard, how ironic, isn't it?"
They both had to swallow their pride, and, their anger, as they really wanted to find some solution.
In Philipart, the feelings of anger and rancor quickly faded as he focused on one of Montag's words.
"What do you mean by con-controlled? I am the Magister Militum, I control all the military forces in the Empire". He trembled at the thought that the Senate had indeed relegated him from his post.
"Now he is the Magister Militum per Occidentem," He corrected him without fear of his reaction. "The Senate, in order to balance the powers, decided to divide the office between the West and the East. That means that you only control…."
"The military forces of the Afriki región," he looked at the ground stunned. "Wh-Who is the Magister of Ea-East?"
"Andrio Canrrio Crásico."
His body wavered, he staggered sideways, his eyes roamed the floor, and his breathing quickened.
"The only chance I had to stand up to the Senate is over." He said forcefully. Without mincing words.
"Montag!" shouted Arcadio. He did not want him to anger Philipart, who, driven by impulsiveness, might kill him, and to whom he approached, consoling him with pats on the shoulder. "We'll give you whatever you want, but please tell us what to do."
The guard looked at them for a few moments, analyzing them carefully, seeing in their eyes the mental exhaustion that dominated them.
"My reward will be seen at another time. The important thing now is to find a way to prevent the Senate from taking full control of the Empire. Although depending on how they see it, they already control it completely."
"Caa yo-you tell us your plan ple-plea-please?" A certain anxiety was beginning to invade Philipart.
Montag closed his eyes for a moment, sighing heavily.
"Magister Philipart, go to Afriki together with your wife and the family of Arcadio, you must keep them safe, and, already confirmed your position per Occidentem, reinforce the border with Oriens, prepare the region."
"A-And is tha-that why?"
Montag ignored his question, turning to Arcadio.
"Remove soldiers from Crásico, use them, kill them, destroy them or take them to Afriki."
"How do I do that?
The guard frowned, turning to the door.
"You can't depend on the opinion of others to make your own decisions, I'm sure you'll manage to find a way to take troops away from Crásico," he walked towards the exit, and, looking sideways at them: "Magister Philipart. Basileus Arcadio. May the Nintu bless you.
"Amen," they both said calmly.
The guard withdrew, leaving them speechless, afraid, helpless, feeling weak and insufficient after having asked a, simple guard, for help.
"At least we already have an idea," Arcadio acknowledged with a downcast look, returning to the window, admiring the outside with false tranquility. "What I most want to avoid is a civil war..." He looked down sighingly.
"Well, your guard seemed to be giving us tips on how to prepare for that," Philipart sat back in his chair, trying to process and organize his mind. "Protect your family and my wife. Reinforce the border, and you have to take troops from Crásico...."
"We will have to act cautiously, without arousing suspicion."
"I've had enough of the Senate! I'd rather kill myself than look at those rats' faces again!"
Philipart's incoherent words, uttered on impulse, were by now commonplace to Arcadius, who rolled his eyes, turned around, and raised his arms with open palms.
"Easy, easy, easy, breathe my friend," he let out a calm smile in order to convey confidence to Philipart. "We must pray that Montag's advice will be successful, so that we can save our Empire."
Arcadio looked piously at Philipart, who remained with a serious expression.
"I can't imagine how much you went through on the expedition. The best thing you can do is not to overthink so much, my friend. I recommend you to go back home now, tell Nazly what we talked about, and prepare for the move. You will hear from my family soon."
Philipart nodded repeatedly, silently understanding Arcadio's words.
"Do you have any idea how you will take troops away from
Crásico?" Now calmer, he asked.
"Not at all," he laughed nonchalantly. "But I'll think of something. If I act quickly, the senators might get suspicious."
Philipart nodded.
Arcadio noticed not only seriousness in his face, but also anguish.
"What's bothering you? And don't tell me nothing."
"Nazly. I waited for a year, and yesterday, when I came back, I treated her more..."
Arcadio raised his hand, interrupting him.
"Don't be mortified about it. You have witnessed terrible things in the expedition, to which the problems with Crásico are added. In a way, although your attitudes were not good, they are justifiable. Even so, you should apologize to her."
Once again, Philipart nodded silently, turning away.
"May the Nintu bless us, Arcadio."
"Amen."
So Philipart withdrew, heading for the stables in search of his
horse.
Arcadio did not despair. He closed the door and returned to the armchair to resume his reading, he wanted to relax his thoughts.
However, as soon as he grabbed the coffee cup, an idea enlightened him.
'How about a new expedition?' After that thought, the book was thrown into the air, the armchair fell backwards, the cup shattered, and he, rushed out of the room.
He walked swiftly through the rustic corridors of the fortress, now of simple color, once stained in blood, built by his wife's family.
The contemptuous glances of the guards were not long in coming, looking at him strangely for his actions.
Thus, he arrived at the library, in agitated happiness.
"Wyatt!" He shouted as he entered the place.
"Basileus Arcadius?" He asked with a frown, twisting his head. "What can I do for you?" He said, adjusting his long blond hair.
Arcadio approached, looking around the bookstores, rich in a variety of books.
"I need advice from my consiliarius."
Wyatt nodded at his words.
"Well, I am all ears, my lord," he said, taking a seat in a chair, and turning his attention to his master.
Arcadius pondered for a moment, debating with himself whether it would be wise to tell him the whole plan, which included talking about the little plot that was being hatched against the Senate, so he opted to just tell him the main thing.
"I would like to start a military campaign under my command, it would be a good way to improve my image before the people, don't you think so?"
Wyatt narrowed his eyes, placing a few fingers on his chin, analyzing word by word what Arcadio said.
"It will not work. You are obliged to ask permission from the Senate, which is sure to reject it. There are no territories to generate genuine interest in them. The frontiers are secured, there is no enemy to contend with. And if we add the failed expedition of Magister Philipart...."
"Is there no way to convince them?!" He shout in desperation.
Wyatt shook his head. Then he rose from his chair.
"Yes, that's all, my lord. I'm going to retire, I must attend to some things with some merchants. Believe me, I am sorry."
He looked at the Basileus, giving him a faint smile. And he left the library, leaving him there, staring at the book on the table, inwardly cursing the Senate.
A tired sigh escaped from between his lips, his shoulders slumped and his posture humped.
"Idiot," uttered a firm voice behind Basileus.
Arcadio, more than offended, felt confused at the sudden insult to his person; turning to look at the offender.
"Mo-Montag?" He questioned hesitantly at the sudden appearance of the guard.
"Apparently you've already come up with an idea to withdraw soldiers from Crásico," he said, entering the room, walking with his hands clasped behind his back, without taking his eyes off Arcadio.
"Well, it seems that it is not possible to realize my idea," he understood that Montag had overheard the small talk.
Arcadio let out a sigh
"What was the insult?"
"I only told the truth. Anyone who asks you about it will tell you that it will not be possible to carry it out. And I thought that the senators chose the most capable to be able to exercise the image of the Empire."
"You're playing with fire," he said to Montag's noticeable derision.
The guard guffawed, resuming his walk through the library.
"Well," he spoke resignedly, seeing that her words did not intimidate him. "What should I do?"
Montag turned to him.
"If you managed to think of an idea to take troops away from Crassus. I'm sure you can come up with a believable lie with which to evade the Senate."
His eyes widened at Montag's suggestion.
"Li-Lie...?"
"Yes!" Exclaimed Montag excitedly, interrupting him, causing him to startle a little. "Take this into account: they love wealth, they are greedy to the max."
Arcadio meditated and understood.
"Anything else, Montag?"
"You must dismiss those closest to you. As your consiliarius."
Arcadio frowned, narrowing his eyes, pursing his lips.
"Things with the Senate are very tense, how can you be so sure that the men who inhabit this fortress are loyal to you? Your control over the coffers of the Empire is almost nil, those who manage them are those of the Senate, and all the inhabitants, even the soldiers, love money, they are ruled by money."
Silence invaded the atmosphere, both looked at each other. As if they were attentive to see which of the two would attack first.
"He's the one!" Wyatt exclaimed, entering the library accompanied by several soldiers, pointing his finger at Montag.
The men surrounded the guard, while Wyatt held Arcadio by the arm to push him away.
Basileus released his grip abruptly, confused by Wyatt's sudden action.
"My lord, that man is filling your head with nonsense," he threw a withering glance at the accused.
"You see, Arcadio?" With a calm tone, Montag asked, raising his head to show superiority, observing the soldiers over his shoulder. "Your consiliarius is afraid. Surely he heard when I warned you of possible traitors," he smiled falsely, sweeping his gaze over those around him.
"My lord, that man only wants to take advantage of you, please don't fall for his lies!"
"That's just what someone would say to avoid being removed from his position. Arcadio, he just wants to manipulate you," he said without leaving himself any privacy. "Look! He even brought soldiers with him, doesn't it seem strange to you?"
Arcadio remained thoughtful, his breathing accelerated, anxiety invaded him, he did not know who to defend.
"Will you let the Senate keep you as a dog?!" Montag's coarse words touched Arcadio's ego.
"Guards!" He took control of the soldiers. "Take him to the dungeon!" He pointed his finger at Wyatt, who blanched.
The men hesitated, however, being the Basileus, they could not object. They turned, and went to the consiliarius.
"You'll be sorry!" he shouted as he was being dragged through the exit to Montag, who was still serene.
With silence in the air, Montag approached Arcadio, who was lamenting for Wyatt, at a slow pace.
"You did well, Arcadio," That was the last thing he said, before patting him on the shoulder and leaving the place.