"So Caesar intends to establish a new branch in the port of Alexandria?"
"It won't be a simple branch. It will practically become the center of our Mediterranean operations."
"The Jews in Alexandria have promised their full support, so let's start by gathering intelligence on the ground."
Currently, the largest insurance operation in Rome was run by Caesar and Crassus.
Their reputation had soared, especially after they paid out every claim without hesitation following the great fire in the Subura.
With that reputation and their enormous capital behind them, they were now expanding into marine cargo insurance.
"Just think about the merchant vessels sailing between Hispania, Rome, Egypt, Greece, and Asia Minor. If we can insure even a fraction of those ships, can you imagine the fortune we'll rake in?"
"The problem is the sheer volume of calculations involved. Shipwrecks happen far too frequently, don't they?"
"Caesar will surely come up with a solution. Won't he design a new kind of ship or something?"
"That sounds like an impossible task, even for him."
While Felix continued leading one strategy meeting after another, another group of visitors arrived at the Strategy Office.
"The Athenian delegation is requesting another audience with Caesar?"
"Not just Athens. Other delegations that came for the council want to meet him too..."
Rome was already overflowing with delegations from across the Mediterranean who came for council.
Whenever the council went into recess, they flooded the Strategy Office's boardroom, clamoring to meet with Lucius Caesar.
"If you establish a branch in our city, we will guarantee substantial privileges and tax exemptions."
News of Lucius's enormous investments in the Italian allied cities had spread far beyond Italy.
Lucius had reinvested a substantial portion of the profits generated by his businesses in the allied cities into local infrastructure, creating countless jobs.
As investment poured into local businesses and wages, the local economies visibly improved.
It was only natural that cities outside Italy began scrambling to attract branches of their own.
"I still remember when we built the very first signal tower. Back then, delegations from the allied cities swarmed us, begging us to build one in their territory too."
"But we have far more work to do now than we did back then, don't we? To establish a branch, we need to secure local land, recruit personnel, and establish a regular communications line."
"And isn't that precisely why we're being paid? To clean up this chaotic mess. Just go get some pasta for me."
Just as the staff of the Strategy Office were groaning under their crushing workload, help arrived from an unexpected quarter: the Jewish communities scattered across the Mediterranean.
Jewish communities were scattered throughout the Mediterranean, constantly exchanging information and maintaining close ties—from Cyrene, Antioch, and Pergamon to Adramyttion, Delos, and Cyprus.
News from Rome first reached Alexandria, then gradually spread to other cities across the Mediterranean.
Their reactions varied.
Some communities showed little interest, while others were deeply wary of forging ties with any Roman politician.
Yet many influential merchants came to a very different conclusion.
"If there is someone in Rome willing to listen to us, we'd be far better off forging ties with him."
"Indeed. Just like our brethren in Rome, we must seek Caesar's patronage. We can only survive if we have a powerful Roman politician watching our backs."
They actively helped Caesar establish new branches, offering valuable local intelligence and capital.
Thus, not only priestly delegations but also Jewish leaders from across the Mediterranean began gathering in Rome.
***
"Pack my schedule as tightly as possible. They've all traveled a long way to reach Rome. I want to meet as many of them as I can."
I stretched my arms above my head.
Father wasn't the only one running himself ragged because of this council.
Delegations from Greek, African, and Anatolian cities, and now Jewish communities on top of that.
Meeting dozens of people every single day made my head spin.
Even the nomenclators—whose job was to remember names and quietly prompt their masters—were struggling to keep up.
"An opportunity like this—to bring together delegations from across the Mediterranean—won't come again anytime soon."
I reviewed the map alongside Felix.
Without the Strategy Office, drawing up plans for all these branches would have been completely out of the question.
Marks on the map showed the origins of each visiting delegation.
Nearly every major region was marked, save for one glaring void.
Gaul—much of what would one day become France.
Clodius had warned me with his dying breath that something was brewing in Gaul.
Noticing where my gaze lingered, Felix spoke up.
"The druids of Gaul likely have little interest in this council. They don't record their religious practices in writing, to begin with. Nor would they welcome Roman interference in their sacred rites."
"As you say, Gallic religion is quite different from that of Greece or the other regions."
I nodded. Yet even taking that into account, the situation felt unnatural.
"At the very least, the tribes allied with Rome should have dispatched delegations. Every other region has sent envoys to Rome, yet..."
Only Gaul remained eerily silent.
At most, a few tribes had sent small delegations.
"Are you worried because of Clodius's dying words?"
"Yes. But there's no need to overthink it right now."
I pulled my gaze away from the map.
Father had said he would investigate the Gallic matter personally.
He wasn't the type of man to make empty promises.
If anything was brewing in Gaul, he would figure it out in no time.
After all, Father was the very man who conquered Gaul in the original history.
Still, I couldn't afford to sit on my hands either.
"Find as many Roman merchants doing business in Gaul as you can."
Throughout Italy, and furthermore, across the entire Mediterranean.
Once these branches were established across the Mediterranean, I would be able to gather detailed local intelligence far faster than ever before.
In this era, few sources of intelligence were more valuable than traveling merchants.
"It is time we expanded our enterprise into Gaul as well."
***
Gaul
Northeast of Genava
"The rest of the lads are probably drinking fine wine and having a grand old time with whores right about now. What kind of cursed luck landed us in this wretched mess?"
"If you're going to grumble all day long, Pullo, you're free to turn back right now. No one's stopping you," Vorenus said as he pushed through the dense brush
After leaving Genava, the two men had marched northeast for four days straight.
They passed scattered settlements of the Helvetii along the way.
Low, forested hills gave way to patches of cultivated farmland and homesteads, with open pastures visible here and there.
"Not a chance. This is my chance to prove I'm a far better centurion than you, isn't it?" Pullo replied with a wide grin. "Our last wager ended in a draw. It won't be a draw this time."
"If you weren't constantly acting like an idiot, you would've beaten me several times over by now."
Vorenus let out a heavy sigh.
It was exceedingly rare for two centurions to be sent alone on a scouting mission this deep into foreign territory.
However, this was an unofficial scouting mission that had to be kept secret from the Gallic tribes at all costs.
Thus, only two exceptionally skilled officers—Vorenus and Pullo—had been selected.
Their mission was of utmost importance.
After all, it had been assigned directly by the consul himself, not the provincial governor.
They were tasked with thoroughly observing the movements of the Helvetii and reporting their findings back to Rome.
"Just a little farther and we'll reach Brenodurum. Let's climb the hill beside it and get a look at the place," Vorenus said. "And remember: if we run into any locals, I do all the talking. You can't speak a lick of Gaulish anyway, so just stand there and..."
Just then, something rustled in the brush, and a group of men emerged from the treeline.
They were all wearing leather belts and ankle-length Gallic trousers—bracae.
Armed with hunting bows and spears, they swiftly surrounded Vorenus and Pullo.
Vorenus instinctively reached for the dagger at his waist before catching himself.
Right now, they were supposed to be merchants, not warriors.
He raised both hands in a peaceful gesture and spoke.
"Greetings, friends. Forgive us if we've disturbed your hunt."
"Unfamiliar faces. Where are you from?"
"We hail from Genava. Horse traders, you see."
"Horse traders? Then where are your horses?"
"Why would I haul horses all the way here when the Helvetii breed better stock than we can find around Genava? We came to buy, of course,"
Vorenus said, taking in his surroundings. There were five of them.
Three held bows, while the remaining two carried long hunting spears and daggers.
"We were on our way to Brenodurum, but we seem to have lost our way. Could you lend us a hand?"
"Is that so?" One of the hunters stepped forward. "From Genava, you say? You don't sound like a man of the Allobroges."
"I never expected to hear that from your lot, of all people. If anyone has a strange accent, it's you Helvetii. It's easier to strike a bargain with your horses than with you men."
Vorenus forced a hearty laugh.
Could they slip past without bloodshed?
Fortunately, Pullo kept his mouth firmly shut, just as he had been ordered.
After an awkward beat of silence, the hunters began chuckling one by one.
"Well, our tongue is quite different from those out west. We can barely understand each other half the time. So, you came to buy horses?"
"Indeed."
"Follow us, then. We'll guide you to Brenodurum."
Vorenus let out a quiet sigh of relief. It seemed the hunters' suspicions had faded.
Just as he took a step forward, the lead hunter turned his head.
"By the way, is your friend always this quiet? Hasn't said a single word yet."
"He's mute, unfortunately. Just born that way."
"Really? Now that's strange." The hunter stopped dead in his tracks. "Because I'm quite certain I heard two men talking just moments ago."
In the brief silence that followed, only the chirping of birds echoed through the trees.
Vorenus was the first to move.
Drawing his dagger, he lunged straight at the hunter.
"Romans!"
The hunter threw a punch.
Vorenus ducked beneath the blow, closed the distance, and tackled the man.
He twisted the hunter's arm back and pressed the blade against his throat.
Right then, Pullo's roar rang out.
"Vorenus! Behind you!"
Another tribesman was drawing his bow.
Vorenus dragged the hunter in front of him, using him as a shield.
The arrow pierced the hunter's throat, sending a spray of blood into the air.
Vorenus hurled his dagger with all his might at the archer.
The instant the dagger buried itself in the archer's chest, something slammed into Vorenus's head hard enough to send the world spinning.
Another warrior was advancing on him, brandishing a spear.
"Filthy Roman swine!"
"Damn it..."
Vorenus tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs gave out.
Just as the spearpoint came hurtling toward him, the warrior suddenly clutched his throat and collapsed.
Pullo emerged from behind him, completely drenched in blood.
"Hey, Vorenus. You alive?" He grabbed Vorenus by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Looks like I won the wager this time."
Pullo pointed at the corpses scattered around them.
"I took down three, and you only got two."
"If you knew a single word of Gaulish, we wouldn't have had to fight in the first place."
Vorenus spat blood into the dirt.
"Let's bury the bodies under those trees for now."
"A shallow grave is the best we can manage right now."
"If we're lucky, they won't be found for at least a day, even in a shallow grave. We'll just have to pray to Diana that the animals don't find the bodies."
"If you say so, Vorenus."
The two men dug a shallow grave and concealed the bodies as best they could.
"We need to change out of these bloodstained clothes, too. We can't wander around looking like this."
The rest of the journey to Brenodurum didn't take long.
About half a day after their deadly encounter with the hunters, the two finally reached the summit.
"So that's Brenodurum—the Helvetian oppidum."
"Good vantage point. We can see everything from up here."
Vorenus looked down at the massive oppidum.
While it looked modest compared with Rome, its sheer scale was still impressive.
Scanning the settlement, Vorenus spotted a column of cavalry passing through the gates.
"Damn it, don't tell me they found the bodies already?"
"No, look closely at their gear. Those aren't Helvetii." Vorenus muttered. The thunder of hooves reached the hilltop.
"Those are cavalry from other tribes."
"Why are they visiting the Helvetii? Our scouts never reported anything like this."
"I don't know."
Vorenus said, straightening.
These tribes were hardly known for trusting one another.
Why would armed cavalry from several different tribes gather here at the same time?
"Something big is happening."
***
"This way, please."
"Thank you."
Dumnorix strode down the main street, flanked by his personal retinue.
The Helvetian residents paused in their work and came out to stare at the newcomers.
Poles were driven into the ground along both sides of the main street, each topped with human skulls.
Several poles even bore severed heads that could not have been more than a few days old, flesh still rotting on them.
Such displays of defeated enemies' heads were hardly unknown among the Gauls.
"Orgetorix is waiting inside."
"Understood. All of you, wait here."
Dumnorix gave orders to his warriors before stepping into the large timber hall alone.
After passing the inner guards, Dumnorix entered a spacious chamber with a massive wooden table at its center.
Two men stood beside the table.
"Dumnorix! You've finally arrived."
"Orgetorix."
Dumnorix gave a slight nod. Orgetorix, one of the most powerful nobles among the Helvetii, was also Dumnorix's father-in-law.
"How fare the Aedui?"
"As well as ever. Our neighbors still raid our borders from time to time, but we have driven them back."
"Indeed. I expected no less from a man like you. Ah, forgive my manners. This is Casticus," Orgetorix said, gesturing to the man beside him. "A nobleman of high standing among the Sequani."
"Your reputation precedes you. It is an honor to meet you."
"And I have heard much of you as well, Dumnorix."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Dumnorix turned to the matter at hand.
"You summoned me here urgently, and you've brought a Sequanian noble into this as well. What is going on?"
"There is a matter of utmost importance we must discuss with you. The time has finally come," Orgetorix said, a fierce grin spreading across his face.
Dumnorix's eyes widened at Orgetorix's next words.
"To reclaim the power that should rightfully be ours—and drive Rome from Gaul once and for all."