Author's thought: "I haven't solved my writer's block yet, so I'm skipping it. This is a trial chapter. What do you think? Should we continue from here and skip the plot that caused the writer's block?"
The sea shimmered under the morning light, a blinding silver. Waves crashed against the prow, spraying salty foam into the air. On the deck of the Roman warship, Tiberius Acilius Ulixes stood tall. His praetor's toga billowed in the wind, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon.
From afar, something rose above the horizon—a colossal lighthouse of white stone, standing as if in defiance of the gods. The Pharos. Alexandria was near.
"Is that Egypt, father?" a small voice broke his concentration.
Ulixes turned his head. His eldest son, Publius, stood with a wooden sword in hand, his eyes glinting with curiosity. His two younger brothers, smaller still, clung to their older brother's waist, also staring into the distance.
"Yes," Ulixes answered curtly. He never wasted words. "That is Alexandria. A city that can make a man fabulously wealthy… or get him killed."
Publius nodded as if he understood, though the words were clearly too heavy for a boy his age.
"I will practice," he said with determination, raising his wooden sword. "So that if anyone tries to kill you, I can protect you."
The cold twilight in Ulixes's eyes softened for a moment. He reached out and patted the boy's head. "Protect your mother first. Your father can take care of himself."
A soft laugh was heard from the other side of the deck. Licinia, his official wife, stood in a simple purple gown, the sea breeze playing with strands of her hair. "You hear that, Publius? Even your father knows who is most precious to protect."
Publius pouted but was secretly proud.
Two other women, Domitia and Aemilia, joined them shortly after. Domitia smirked, her face full of the typical arrogance of a Roman patrician. "If only your husband could be that warm before the Senate, perhaps he would already be consul."
"Hush, Domitia," Aemilia interjected with a chuckle. "You're just jealous because the children love Licinia more."
Domitia snorted, turning her face toward the sea.
Licinia moved closer, standing beside Ulixes. She gazed at the ever-growing Pharos, her voice low. "Alexandria… a foreign city, a foreign court. We are bringing three small children into a viper's nest."
Ulixes did not reply. He was measuring the distance to the harbor, counting the number of merchant ships bustling about. Greek ships, Egyptian ships, even Phoenician vessels. They all signified one thing: gold.
"Will we be safe there?" Licinia pressed.
"Safe?" Ulixes finally turned to her. "There are no safe places in this world. Only places where you kill faster than you are killed."
Licinia held her breath, looking into her husband's eyes. She could not argue with that.
Aemilia's laughter broke out, trying to ease the tension. "You see? This is why I fell in love with him. No poetry, no sweet promises, only a threat that sounds like a promise."
"And you still find that romantic," Domitia quipped.
Ulixes was not listening. His gaze returned to the approaching Pharos. Its white stone reflected the sunlight, looking like a divine spear piercing the sky.
He hardened his jaw. Rome was no longer near; now he could only rely on himself in this foreign land.
His hand tightened on the ship's wooden rail. Alexandria was a command from Rome, yes. But for him, the city was more than a duty. It was a test. If he could bring it to heel, he would have a foundation of power that not even the Senate could touch.
A sailor shouted, pointing ahead. "The Pharos! We are approaching the harbor!"
A cheer erupted from the crew, mingling with the cries of merchants from other ships. The scent of the market, of spices and woodsmoke, drifted on the wind.
Ulixes glanced once more at his family. His sons were jumping with excitement, thrusting their wooden swords into the air. Licinia remained calm, though a flicker of anxiety was in her eyes. Domitia and Aemilia were bickering lightly about what attire was appropriate for the Egyptian court.
Ulixes took a long breath. This was the burden he carried: not just legions, not just politics, but his own flesh and blood.
He stared at the Pharos. Alexandria lay before him—a city of gold, a city of poison.
"Egypt," he muttered softly. "Let us see who conquers whom."
A final wave crashed against the prow. The ship turned, beginning to enter the great bay crowded with vessels from every nation.
Ulixes and his family arrived at the gates of Alexandria. The city greeted them with a hustle and bustle Ulixes had never encountered in Rome. The limestone streets were filled with merchants shouting in Greek, Egyptian, and Phoenician. The aroma of honey, perfume, and roasted meat mixed with the salty tang of the port. From the harbor, an official procession was waiting, with gold-adorned chariots bearing the sigil of the Ptolemaic house.
Ulixes climbed into a chariot with Licinia, Domitia, Aemilia, and his three sons. The people of Alexandria crowded the sides of the street, some shouting praise for Rome, others whispering cynical remarks. He could feel the suspicious stares—a foreigner had come to rule, that is what the people of Egypt saw.
The chariot stopped before the Ptolemaic Palace, a white marble edifice filled with tall pillars, decorated with statues of Greek gods mingled with ancient Egyptian icons. A stage of honor had been prepared. The nobles of Alexandria were gathered there, their clothes glittering with gold and jewels.
In their midst stood Potheinos, a portly eunuch with a cunning face, and Theodotus, a thin Greek man with a condescending gaze. Beside them, with a small diadem on her head, was Princess Berenice IV—her face beautiful and cold, her eyes filled with curiosity.
"Greetings to the Proconsul of Rome!" Potheinos's voice echoed, his tone sweet but cynical. "Egypt welcomes the great envoy of Rome who has come to… oversee our wealth."
Whispers rippled through the nobles. The word oversee was delivered with a note of contempt, as if Ulixes were merely a tax collector, not a general.
Ulixes disembarked from the chariot. The sound of his legionaries' iron-soled sandals thundered behind him, a disciplined rhythm that cut through the whispers. He stood before the stage, erect in his purple toga, his hand resting on the hilt of his gladius.
"The Republic sends me not to watch," he said flatly, his voice carrying clearly across the outer hall. "But to command."
The harsh Latin was immediately translated into Greek. The wave of whispers grew louder. Theodotus let out a soft laugh and stepped forward.
"Command?" he said, stressing the word. "Rome may have power over its provinces, but Egypt is no province. We are an ally, not a slave."
Cheers broke out from some of the Greek nobles. Potheinos smiled, satisfied, certain this game would undermine Ulixes's authority from the very start.
Licinia tensed behind him. Domitia, her face flush with anger, nearly stepped forward, but Ulixes raised his hand slightly. A small gesture, but it was enough to silence them. He took a step forward.
His eyes locked onto Theodotus. "An ally?" he said softly, but with great pressure. "An ally gives and receives in equal measure. Rome sends legions, ships, and gold to protect the eastern border. What does Egypt give? Grain?"
A mocking laugh was heard from the crowd of Greek nobles. Potheinos was about to retort, but Ulixes continued swiftly, his voice rising, sharp as a blade.
"Grain? Rome has Sicily. Rome has Africa. If Egypt closes its doors, we will open another. But if Rome closes its hand, Egypt will starve before the harvest is even over."
The whispers turned to silence. Even Berenice leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes studying Ulixes with keen interest.
Theodotus was speechless, his face reddening. Potheinos tried to save the situation with a stiff laugh. "Of course, of course, the Proconsul speaks with the passion of a soldier. We are all friends here."
Ulixes stared at him without a smile. "Rome did not send me to make friends. Rome sent me to ensure there are no enemies."
A silence fell. The cries of gulls could be heard in the distance. Then a small cheer erupted from a part of the crowd—the Greek merchants who understood the practical meaning behind his words. They saw strength, and they knew who would make a better protector.
Behind him, Ulixes's children watched their father with wide eyes. Publius whispered softly, "Is Father angry?" Licinia looked down, her hands on her sons' shoulders, calming them.
Ulixes was not angry. He was simply demonstrating that he could not be underestimated.
Berenice IV finally spoke, her voice soft yet authoritative. "The Proconsul of Rome brings sharp words. Alexandria will listen, and judge. For today, let us feast our honored guest."
A small smile appeared at the corner of Ulixes's mouth. He knew the game had just begun.
The procession moved toward the feasting hall. The nobles were still whispering, some in anger, some in awe. Potheinos and Theodotus stared at Ulixes's back with hatred and vengeance.
Ulixes walked without hesitation, his family following. To him, this was no welcoming feast. This was the first battle on Egyptian soil.