At first, it was just a simple quarrel.
Because of their past friendship, the two Romans still held back to some extent. But one of them stood on the side of "righteousness," putting the other—who was supposed to be the victim—at a disadvantage. However, with a crowd watching, it felt as if they would lose something more important if they backed down. So neither side intended to stop.
As a result, the argument grew more and more heated until it erupted into a physical confrontation.
Neither of them was a natural fighter; the brawl was entirely uncoordinated.
Even so, the injuries worsened as fists flew and kicks landed. In the end, both looked extremely battered.
Especially the one who had been preaching Roman supremacy. Though articulate and strong-willed, his physical strength was sorely lacking. He was knocked down after just a few punches, yet he kept standing back up—only to be beaten again.
His condition was pitiful and humiliating.
But his burning rage was deeply infectious, radiating a sense of Rome's glory and greatness to all who watched.
Eventually, the soldiers arrived and apprehended the pitiful man.
"I say, what should we do with this guy?"
The thinner soldier pointed at the injured Roman civilian and turned to his comrade.
The other soldier, a burly man, frowned before shrugging. "Bandage him. If we leave him, he'll probably die in a few days."
"No punishment?"
"It's not that serious. Just let it go."
And that was true.
This wasn't robbery or attempted murder. It was damage to property of low value—compensable under regulations. Ironically, the one who caused the damage was the most severely injured. In Rome, a society that revered martial virtue, such altercations were common. At most, they were considered minor disputes, not serious crimes.
Had the matter followed legal procedure, the man would have been detained for two days at most. Even if it was ignored entirely, no one would care.
"And you heard him—he opposed the Red Dragon Coin. He's undoubtedly Roman. More Roman than those who compromise out of convenience. Doesn't a man like that deserve our help?" said the burly soldier with a furrowed brow.
To be honest, he was the first civilian to publicly oppose the Red Dragon Coin and take action.
The thinner soldier hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
The Red Dragon Coin had become Rome's mainstream currency, but its implementation had been anything but smooth.
Many citizens were against it. No matter how convenient or attractive the Red Dragon Coin might be, it was still a foreign currency. Using one on Roman soil felt shameful, no matter how you looked at it.
Some Romans outright refused to use it, even scorning those who did.
If fewer people had accepted it, such dissenting voices might have been louder.
But today, after witnessing a fellow Roman rise up, even the thin soldier—who hadn't previously felt strongly—developed a growing aversion to the coin.
"That's that, then."
"Honestly, if he hadn't broken the law and there weren't so many people watching, I might've arrested the other guy instead."
"Who wouldn't?" the thinner soldier muttered, glancing at the battered civilian with a trace of regret.
There was something special about this man. He had the ability to convey his will clearly and stir the emotions of others. If he weren't so frail, he might have made a great general.
What a pity.
The two soldiers treated his wounds with basic care and sent him home.
What they didn't realize was how much chaos their quiet indulgence would unleash on Rome in the days to come. And from the shadows, a pair of eyes had been watching.
The image of this man—whom they had deemed a true Roman—had already been etched into the minds of the people.
That afternoon, a similar scene occurred again.
Some had witnessed the morning's events and been inspired by the "patriotic" spirit. A simple argument turned into a brawl.
Others were copycats who had heard rumors and acted out of self-interest.
That day, soldiers were kept busy trying to maintain order.
But few saw it as a serious issue. Many soldiers themselves were among the strongest opponents of the Red Dragon Coin. Although a few by-the-book soldiers made arrests, most either turned a blind eye or even encouraged it.
It wasn't really the soldiers' fault.
After all, who wouldn't sympathize with someone doing something they themselves longed to do but couldn't because of duty?
That leniency and silence emboldened people.
Soon, the situation spun out of control.
The next day, even more Romans and imitators took to the streets. At the sight of Red Dragon Coins, they would tear them apart and beat their users without hesitation. After tasting the thrill of violence, they grew more brazen.
Gradually, their actions extended beyond just the coins.
It was as if they had found the perfect excuse for violence and began targeting anything associated with Britain—crafts, food, clothing, magical tools. Some even began eyeing British-made weapons.
Weapons held by soldiers and noble officials had once been untouchable. But as the mob grew more practiced in violence and began instinctively organizing into gangs, they grew bold enough to try.
City officials and soldiers finally recognized the gravity of the situation.
But it was too late.
People had begun to revel in the madness, setting fires across the city.
And behind it all, as though guided by an invisible hand, the chaos became more coordinated and strategic. A protest against Britain transformed into open class revenge.
That's right—resentment between rich and poor is an eternal theme in every nation and era.
Talent, status, and opportunity inevitably create inequality.
The rich disdain the poor.
The poor resent the rich.
And now, the poor had their chance.
They looted what they wanted. Burned what they hated.
Nothing had changed in their intent—so why not rob the richest, and burn what they hated most?
This was no longer a patriotic protest. It was an unbridled riot.
Officials issued emergency orders. Soldiers flooded the streets to suppress the mob.
But when the setting sun turned the city red and many buildings stood charred or collapsed, those same officials saw the returning troops—battered and defeated.
"Impossible!"
Indeed, it was. Civilians shouldn't have been able to overpower trained, armed soldiers. Even if only a portion of the garrison was tasked with policing the city, civilians stood no chance.
Which meant only one thing—
The mob had been infiltrated.
There were trained enemies hiding among them. Hidden soldiers.
But who?
The rebellious vassals unwilling to accept Roman rule? Foreign agitators? Or... Britain?
The situation had spiraled beyond anything anyone could have imagined.
The next day, riots broke out in more cities.
Three days later, almost the entire Roman Empire—save for the royal city—was gripped by an epidemic of violence.
And the patriots of yesterday?
They had become nothing more than murderers.
-End Chapter-
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