Far to the west, away from Palmyran prodigies, Postumus reads a form.
It is a standard Senate form, one stolen from North Africa on its way to Rome.
Name: Tiberius Pulcher
Residence: Carthage
Request: [monetary / infrastructure / (law) / crime]
Context
My son has run off with some desert barbarian—Tanit-Zana of the Three Wells, or some other Garamantian title. When I tried to stop him, he did not comply. I struck him, and the wench slapped me. I moved to subdue this daughter of the desert, but my own son fought me and hit me. I request immediate legal action be taken against this barbarian wench and my son.
Postumus puts the papyrus down among other identical forms. Some detail mine output, others troop numbers. One even has a request to fund underwater aqueducts across Africa.
One aide, dressed in some cheap facsimile of a senatorial toga, takes one in his hand. The papyrus feels odd, strange to a man accustomed to parchment and wax.
The man clears his throat. Sweat paints his brow despite the northern weather.
"Caesar, what concern is it of ours should these flimsy forms fail to reach the emperor? Why did you insist on taking these new papyrus petitions?" asks the Gaul, confusion woven into every word.
Postumus does not answer. Instead, he looks out a window. Outside, the mist of the Rhine clouds the view of barbarians, traitors, and the legions under their command.
The man grins and walks to the fireplace. Coals burn bright, valiantly fighting the cold that permeates the Rhine capital.
Without a second thought, Postumus takes the forms in both hands and begins laughing. One by one, he lets each form fall into the fire—a mother who dislocated her leg, a veteran wanting help, and a father who alienated his son.
Each of these stories is devoured by the flames, their owners unaware the emperor will never see them.
Postumus looks up from the smoldering pile of ashes, his eyes steady and his smile still present.
"I have what I need to save Gaul, Britannia, and Hispania from the wolves that bite at our empire."
The aides look at one another. Neither wants to speak up first. Luckily for them, one of Postumus's newly appointed senators asks the question on everyone's lips.
"How does a menagerie of domestic disputes save our empire, Caesar?"
Postumus rips up a linen cloth and throws it into the fire. It doesn't burn immediately; in fact, Postumus is able to take it out of the flame.
He holds the cloth aloft, his hand somewhat burnt from the man's theatrics.
"Gallienus has made one good decision; the old fool gave his people a voice."
Postumus looks at the ashes of the papyrus floating away from the fireplace.
However, the fool gave them a voice that is brittle and costly. His provinces must be bleeding silver and gold to maintain these little forms."
One of his commanders clears his throat, trying to see if their emperor will get to the point.
Postumus smiles and turns to the commander. The man opens his palm, the burnt rag still intact even if the flesh holding it isn't.
"My dear commander, I intend to copy these forms and send them across our Gallic Empire."
A great murmur whisks through the chamber.
"Truly, Postumus is brilliant."
"What is the cost?"
"Does he intend for us to use papyrus?"
Postumus raises his hand; the smell of burnt flesh still wafts from it.
"I intend to use the ancient Etruscan linen books. "Libri Lintei, a true Roman tradition, not the elegant papyrus of long-dead pharaohs," announced Postumus, his eyes already envisioning the possibilities.
Immediately the chamber was a blur of motion and ink. Quills blurred over canvas, preparing to send letters detailing Postumus' instructions to the entire Gallic empire.
Then Postumus has a spark of inspiration; he remembers that military reports, grain quotas, and petitions all used the same format.
The Gallic emperor raises his hand. Quills stop, bodies freeze, and orders halt in men's throats.
"We must have forms for more than just petitions. I want you to make forms for quotas and military reports. I shall call them the Tabula Imperii (records of the state)," states Postumus.
Postumus picks up a parchment of his own and begins detailing instructions for his new record format.
All forms of the Gallic empire of Imperator Caesar Marcus Cassianius Latinius Postumus Pius Felix Invictus Augustus. Shall follow these instructions.
Each shall be only half a foot long and wide. Each shall only be placed on linen. The people shall not be charged for use but fined for juvenile jokes.
The following Tabula will be made for the citizens of my empire
Tabula Civitas (municipal issues)
name:
date:
Residence:
Request: [monetary / infrastructure / (law) / crime]
Context 120 words
clerk stamp
Tabula Militaris (military record)
Legion/unit:
Province:
Sector / Fort:
Commander:
Date:
Present forces:
Combat Ready:
Killed (since last report):
Wounded:
Deserted:
supplies 20 words
Enemy Observation: 40 words.
Legate stamp
Tabula operum (infrastructure and public works)
Province:
Governor:
date:
type [roads/ aqueduct/ sewer/ walls/ bridges/ forts/ homes]
cost:
benefit:
clerk stamp
Tabula Provincialis (report for governors)
Province:
Governor:
date:
taxes collected
spent:
unrest:
context 100 words.
The scribes take the letter and begin making copies for the governors and administrators of the Gallic empire.
Postumus looks down at his burnt hand, still holding the linen rag. Such displays were necessary for a state built on military might. His troops needed daily reminders of his prowess.
Postumus never planned to be emperor, but he will survive. The man lifts the form to his face once more and smiles. The emperor in Italia just gave the Gallic empire its newest weapon, eyes.
Every form that flows into the arms of the Rhine capital reveals more and more about his people, his military, and even the land itself.
His last thought before moving on to affairs of state. Why hire spies when people literally line up to give you reports?
"What is the next issue of our empire?"
Outside, the mist of the Rhine still obscures the vision of the emperor. Barbarians raid, farmers reap, and soldiers train. But soon enough the emperor will have all the eyes he needs to finally see his empire.