NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Chapter VI - Is everything ready?
Curia Cornificia, Anko, Afriki
Penultimate month of 575
For several days, Anko and Philipart's advisors held talks regarding the positions and decisions to be taken to prudently face the precarious situation that would plague the Empire.
"Philipart Cynther," Prisco, praefectus of Anko, rose from his seat. "Today, after many meetings, we have made the decision to give you the position of dictator of all Afriki."
"What?" Philip stood up from his seat, being invaded by the applause of all present. "Gen-Gentlemen please, my only intention in being here is to prepare the region for a possible conflict."
"Exactly," sketching a smile, Prisco said. "That's exactly why we appointed him dictator. That way he will have the capacity to do whatever he deems necessary without limits."
The doors of the auditorium were opened, two slaves entered the place: one carrying a purple toga, and the other a laurel wreath. These approached Philipart, who stood trembling and wide-eyed at his unexpected appointment.
Two guards approached, bringing with them a wooden vessel and a sharp dagger.
"Undress," Magister Philipart. "Prisco indicated him, stepping aside."
The yellow-eyed man, trembling, nodded at his words. And quickly, he took off his clothes, remaining only in his loincloth.
"Magister, do you know the pact of the atrium?" Prisco asked him, motioning the guards to come closer.
Philipart nodded.
It was the ritual by which the dictator pledged not to use his power for his own benefit.
It consisted of the one named, after undressing, kneeling in front of those around him. A dagger was handed to him, and with this he would cut his hand, pouring his blood into the vessel, which he would grasp and raise high, saying thus:
"And may it be you, Nintu, O mighty one, who managed my actions and thoughts to work prudently for the benefit of our Holy Empire," and he drank his blood.
So did Philipart before all the councilors.
As is the tradition, the slaves dressed him in the purple robe, and placed on him the laurel wreath.
He was invaded by the applause of those present, as he rose from the floor, who, once again, and in a more "radical" way, deposited the security of the region with him.
Now he could really begin to prepare Afriki.
Appoint and depose the people he wanted from their posts. To do whatever he pleased with good acting.
However, he had to limit his aspiration to total control, since, there was still Arcadius, and he would be the one who would control the policy.
"My lord," the words of one of the guards brought him out of his thoughts. "Your wife is here to see you, she is waiting for you outside."
Port Fiore, northeast of Afriki
"So-Sorry?"
Prisco Rufo had been sent by Philipart to the port Fiore to make a series of orders to Dandorio Moxoto, captain of the fleet of Afriki, and to Palas Moxoto, young girl, in charge of the supplies of the region.
"As you heard," Prisco continued, "by Philipart's orders, you must build a fleet capable of transporting more than twenty legions. That is... about six hundred ships."
"He-hey, wh-what? The most we've built in years, we haven't built more than a hundred," he bowed his head. "Excuse me, my lord, but we don't have the budget or the manpower to build that many ships."
Prisco nodded.
He already foresaw that, even if Philipart, being dictator, ordered it, Dandorio might refuse since the region did not have the capacity for such a vast naval production. Therefore, he had come prepared.
"Let them come!"
At his command, lots of carriages pulled up to the dock, and a large number of men, carrying trunks, began to alight from them.
"Wha-what is all this?" Dandorio looked around at the new arrivals.
"There you are," Prisco began, "I have brought you all the unemployed we could find to work under your orders. In the trunks is the money you will need: about two hundred million darios," he contemplated the impression, now impregnated, on Dandorio's face. "Tell me, Captain, how long will it take to get the fleet ready?"
Dando analyzed the situation, he knew he would not be willing to take no for an answer.
"Sir, the amount you are asking for is absurdly large. But, if we devote ourselves entirely to the construction of the fleet, and build other shipyards nearby, it would be finished in three months. Although, we can deliver the ships to you gradually."
"Yes, so do, maximize the production of the ships as much as possible," he took a breath, satisfied that he had fulfilled one of Philipart's orders. "Now I would like to speak to the one in charge of supplies."
The captain nodded, and before retiring, he asked his workers to collect the trunks, and explain the way of working to the new arrivals.
"My lord, do you really think Philipart's wife is right?" Asked one of his guards, who kept a somber look on his face and his shoulders bent.
"I hope so," he sighed, inwardly apologizing to the Nintu.
"Are you looking for me?" The question of a woman of outstanding beauty vanished the tension, caused by the guard's words, that pervaded the atmosphere. "What a pleasure it is to meet you, Mr. Rufo," her blue eyes watched him curiously.
Prisco was startled by his sudden arrival, clearing his throat. The guards, surprised by her confidence, surrounded her completely.
"My name is Palas, I hope I can be of service," after saying her words, she tied her blonde hair in a ponytail, which danced to the sound of the wind, preventing her from seeing clearly.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Palas," he decided to be blunt. "I need you to get me enough supplies to keep twenty legions fed, and all the Afriki markets stable during a confrontation that could last up to two years.
"Well, they seem to want to be very prepared," in a notebook he wrote down what the man asked him. "Who are we going to fight?"
Prisco, roughly, turned around, his back to the man.
"We have to withdraw to prepare other things. The money is under Dandorio's power. I wish you the best of luck, and thank you."
The group of men headed for the exit.
The heavy stares of the people, who made their way to make way for them, accompanied the rumbling sound of their footsteps.
"Uh, what a temper," Palas whispered to herself, watching them walk off into the distance.
Moenia wall, Afriki
Vespers of 576
But what a smile overflows from your face.
Your eyes shine like the stars.
Ah, it is true.
You, Kazet Noman, Philipart asked you in person, he put you in charge not only of the defense of the eastern side of the region, but also of the construction of a wall that limits the border between Afriki and Oriens. Which, for you, was, and is, a great honor.
You do not plan to fail him.
You traveled in a short time to every corner of the region in search of the best materials and the most skilled architects to design the most impregnable of walls.
"Approved, you will be given the VII Pixis and XI Dives in order to defend the eastern border of Afriki."
With the favor of Philipart and Priscus Rufus, you took your soldiers to the border, and, with the help of workmen, and the blessing of the Nintu, you began the construction of the wall.
And it took a whole month to finish it. Five meters high, and two meters thick.
On the outskirts you placed wire traps, spikes, and deadly trenches.
You filled the wall with guard towers capable of holding twenty archers.
And you made slight openings where they could pour hot sand toward enemies who tried to climb the walls with ladders or ropes.
The workers returned to their homes, and you, you made the decision to merge the two legions, creating: The Protection Corps, made up of almost twelve thousand men.
Philipart appeared before you to examine your work.
"I am impressed, Kazet. The wall is impeccable, and the way you organized the army is admirable."
Like any human being, you liked to be praised.
"As you requested, my lord," you bowed, intending to win his favor, not only for your commitment to the defense of Afriki, but also for your manners.
Philipart looked at you in agreement, nodding his head repeatedly.
"I will bring the Protection Corps report before the council so that it can be formalized. For the moment, you have my approval."
His words moved you, you wanted to thank him, offering him a dinner with the troops, so that they would be motivated by his presence.
However, to your misfortune, he withdrew before you could utter a word.
You took a deep breath, adjusted your clothes, and before heading to the dining room with your soldiers, you looked up at the sky illuminated by the full moon, as beautiful as the woman who gave birth to you.
"May the Nintu bless us."