Dawn in Illyricum felt colder than usual. On the main training ground, Legio I Illyrica stood in perfect silence, their ranks straight as if drawn with a ruler. The morning dew glistened on their helmets. They were not waiting for orders to train. They were waiting to be judged.
On the edge of the field, Tribune Quintus Sertorius stood with his arms crossed, his clean toga contrasting with the dust around him. Beside him, Ulixes stood calmly, his face showing no expression.
"I want to see the testudo formation," Sertorius said, his voice sharp, not turning to look at Ulixes. "Then the acies triplex maneuver."
Ulixes simply nodded to Flamma.
The command was shouted. And the legion moved.
It was a terrifying display of precision. Shields were raised and interlocked with a single, synchronized THUMP. The soldiers moved forward like a giant organism, every step perfect, every line aligned. They transitioned from testudo to the three-line battle formation with a fluidity that was almost inhuman. It was Roman discipline perfected to an art form.
Sertorius watched, his brow slightly furrowed. He couldn't find a single fault. It was perfect. Too perfect.
"Very impressive," he said, his tone grudging. "They can march well. Now I want to see how they fight." He turned to Ulixes, a thin, cold smile on his lips. "Of course, you can't show that without a real enemy."
"Oh, I can," Ulixes replied calmly.
He raised his hand. A moment later, from the forest at the end of the field, the hoarse sound of a barbaric war horn was heard. Hundreds of newly recruited Pannonii auxiliary soldiers charged out of the trees, shouting war cries, attacking the legion's unsuspecting flank.
Panic should have erupted. But it didn't.
Instead of trying to form a rigid shield wall, the Centuries on the flank immediately broke into smaller "wolf" units. They did not hold the attack. They flowed around it, absorbing the momentum of the enemy's charge and striking back from the sides. Auxiliary archers hidden in the back ranks released their shots, providing cover. The show was no longer a march. It was a controlled hunt. In a few minutes, the "attack" had been completely neutralized.
Sertorius stared at the scene, his mouth slightly open. He had just witnessed a Roman legion fighting like a disciplined horde of barbarians. It was horrifying. And it was incredibly effective.
"An... interesting method," he finally said, unable to hide his shock.
"A method that keeps soldiers alive in this land," Ulixes retorted.
The inspection continued at the praetorium. Inside Ulixes' office, Mira and Kore had laid out a stack of wax tablets and papyrus scrolls. Financial records. Inventory lists. Tribute reports. Everything was perfectly organized.
Sertorius studied them for hours, his sharp eyes looking for any anomaly. He found nothing. Every coin was accounted for. Every sack of grain had a purpose.
"I see you have established a trading partnership with the local chieftains," Sertorius said, pointing to a clause in the report. "Giving them a share of Rome's profits. Isn't that like feeding a stray dog that will one day bite you?"
"A stray dog will bite if it's hungry, Tribune," Ulixes replied. "I am making them fat and lazy. A well-fed dog prefers to sleep by the fire than hunt in the woods." He pushed another tablet towards Sertorius. "And the profits from this 'partnership' have increased the province's revenue by three hundred percent. Revenue that now flows directly into Rome's coffers."
Sertorius was silent. He couldn't argue with the numbers. He couldn't argue with the brutal logic behind them. He had come to Illyricum looking for a rebel or an incompetent general. Instead, he had found a frighteningly efficient and very dangerous governor.
As dusk fell, Sertorius rose. His inspection was complete. He had not found a single infraction he could report to the Senate. "Your report will be very... interesting, Legatus," he said stiffly. "I will depart for Rome in two days."
"Have a safe journey, Tribune," Ulixes said politely.
After Sertorius left, Flamma entered. "He found nothing," the old soldier said with a note of satisfaction. "You have silenced him."
"I haven't silenced him, Flamma," Ulixes said, his eyes on the door that had just closed. "I have only made him angrier."
It was then that the Egyptian appeared from the shadows in the corner of the room.
"Dominus," he whispered. "Tribune Sertorius did not return directly to his room. He went to a wine shop in the merchant district."
Ulixes turned. "Alone?"
"No," the Egyptian replied. "He met with someone. A man named Verres. One of the olive merchants whose land you 'forcibly' bought a few months ago."
Ulixes leaned back in his chair. A thin, cold smile finally appeared on his lips. Of course. If you can't attack a fortress from the front, you try to sneak in through the back gate.
"Let them talk," Ulixes said. "I want to know every word they say."
That night, the wine shop in Salona's merchant district was as lively as usual. The rough laughter of sailors and the clinking of silver goblets mixed with the aroma of sour wine and roasted fish. In a dimly lit private booth in the back corner, Tribune Quintus Sertorius leaned on his cushions, a satisfied smile on his aristocratic face. Across from him, Verres, the bitter olive merchant, refilled the Tribune's goblet with a slightly trembling hand.
"So, our new Legatus is a tyrant," Sertorius said, his tone casual, as if just making conversation. "Forcing honorable merchants to sell their ancestral land. How un-Roman."
"He's not just a tyrant, Tribune," Verres hissed, his eyes glinting with hatred. "He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. He talks about partnership, but all he wants is to swallow everything. He has taken over the trade routes, the mines... everything."
"I need proof, Verres," Sertorius said, sipping his wine. "Not just complaints. I need records. Names. Something I can take back to the Senate that will tear his 'hero's' mask off."
"I can get it," Verres promised eagerly. "Give me time. Many other merchants hate him. We will give you a storm that will drown him."
"Good," Sertorius said, his smile widening. "Do that, and I will ensure the Senate remembers your name when this province has a new, more... traditional governor."
Outside, in the dark alley, the Egyptian slipped away silently, every word of the conversation etched in his mind.
The next morning, Ulixes received the report in the silence of his office. He listened to every detail without interruption. After the Egyptian finished, Ulixes just stared blankly at the wall for a moment.
"They want a storm," he whispered to himself. "I will give them one."
He took a wax tablet and began to write a letter, not to Sertorius, but to Verres. The letter was short.
I know you met him. I know what you're planning. Come to my villa outside the city at dusk. Alone. Or I will send your head to Sertorius in a basket.
Verres arrived trembling, his face as pale as a ghost. He was led to Ulixes' private terrace overlooking the peaceful vineyards. Ulixes was waiting for him, calmly pouring two goblets of wine.
"Legatus... I..." Verres began, his voice choked.
"Sit, Verres," Ulixes cut in, his voice calm. "You look unwell." He pushed a goblet towards the merchant. "Drink. It will calm your nerves."
Verres stared at the goblet as if it were a venomous snake.
"Oh, don't worry," Ulixes said, chuckling softly. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't waste my best wine." He sipped his own wine. "I admire your courage, Verres. Trying to play in the league of lions. But you chose the wrong ally."
He leaned forward. "You think Sertorius cares about you? About the merchants? He is just using you as a pawn to attack me. After he gets what he wants, he will throw you away like trash."
"He... he promised..."
"He is a politician, Verres. Promises are their currency, and their value is always zero." Ulixes put down his goblet. "I, on the other hand, keep my promises."
He gave a signal. Mira entered, placing a contract on the table.
"This is a new offer," Ulixes said. "I will return half of your olive groves. And I will make you the head of the new trading guild I am forming, giving you a monopoly on the olive oil exports from this entire province."
Verres stared at the contract, then at Ulixes, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Why?"
"Because I would rather have a loyal watchdog than a rebellious sheep," Ulixes replied. "Sertorius offers you a chance for revenge. I offer you a chance to become the richest man in Illyricum. Choose wisely."
Two days later, Tribune Sertorius was packing to return to Rome. He waited for Verres, but the merchant never came. Instead, an envoy from Ulixes arrived.
The envoy handed him a beautifully lacquered wooden box. "A farewell gift from Legatus Acilius, Tribune."
Curiously, Sertorius opened the box. Inside, on a silk cushion, lay a beautiful gold necklace. And beside it, a short note.
Thank you for your visit, Tribune. I hope you enjoy this gift. The gold is from a new mine opened thanks to my most trusted trading partner, Verres.
Sertorius froze. He looked at the necklace, then re-read the note. He understood. Verres had betrayed him. And Ulixes, with cruel elegance, had just told him that he knew everything. That he had lost this game before it had even begun.
Sertorius slammed the box shut, shattering it. He said nothing. He just stared in the direction of Ulixes' praetorium in the distance with pure hatred.
Winter came and went, bringing the first light snow to the Illyrian mountaintops before melting into a fertile spring. In the province that was once turbulent, a new order had taken firm root. Ulixes' order.
At the construction site outside Salona, Ulixes stood beside Verres, looking at the skeleton of a magnificent new grain warehouse. The workers, well-paid and overseen by retired legion veterans, moved with swift efficiency.
"The new road to the south has cut the caravan travel time in half, Legatus," Verres said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. He no longer saw Ulixes as an enemy, but as the source of his now unimaginable wealth. "The profits from our wine exports last month alone already exceeded this entire province's revenue a year ago."
"That's just the beginning, Verres," Ulixes replied, his eyes scanning the horizon. "When our new port is finished, ships from Alexandria and Syria will dock here, not in Brundisium. We will no longer be a frontier. We will be a gate."
A few days later, the entire Legio I Illyrica was assembled on the main training ground. They had not come to train. They stood in a perfect parade formation, their armor polished until it gleamed, their cohort banners fluttering in the wind.
Ulixes stepped onto the podium, wearing his finest officer armor. He looked at the sea of soldiers before him. He saw hard faces, sharp eyes, and bodies forged by countless battles. This was his weapon. This was his legacy.
"Soldiers!" his voice thundered, cutting through the silence. "You came to this land as a legion of Rome. You fought like Romans. You bled like Romans." He paused. "It was not enough."
"In the wilderness and on the enemy's walls, you were reborn," he continued, his voice now filled with burning intensity. "You no longer just march. You hunt. You no longer just defend. You dominate. You are no longer just a legion. You are a pack of wolves."
He gave a signal. Flamma and Milo stepped forward, carrying a new standard covered in cloth. With a single motion, they unveiled it.
On a polished wooden pole, a silver statue glittered under the sun. It was not the eagle of Rome. It was the head of a howling wolf, its eyes made of red rubies, its fangs sharp and menacing.
"From this day on," Ulixes yelled, "you will no longer be known as the First Legion. You are the Legio I Lupina! The Legion of the Wolf! Let our enemies hear that name and tremble!"
The roar that came from a thousand throats was not an ordinary cheer. It was the synchronized howl of a pack that had found its leader. An oath of loyalty forged not with words, but with steel and blood.
That night, inside the praetorium, Ulixes' inner circle gathered. The atmosphere was calm, filled with the satisfaction of a job well done.
"The legion's morale has never been higher," Flamma reported. "They would follow you even to finish off an ocean of enemies."
"The province's finances are stable and growing," Mira said. "Our coffers are full."
"All internal resistance has been silenced," the Egyptian added from the shadows. "There are no more whispers. Only obedience."
Ulixes nodded. He had done it. He had taken a forgotten and bleeding province, and turned it into his unshakeable power base. He had created his own army, his own economy, and his own network. He was a king in his own kingdom.
He stepped onto the balcony, looking at the peaceful night over Salona. For the first time, he felt a moment of true tranquility. The foundation had been laid. The pillars were solid.
It was then that the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind him. A guard ran towards him, his face tense with urgency.
"Legatus," he said, out of breath as he knelt. "A courier... from Dominus Marcus Crassus himself. The message is urgent."