Having preemptively crushed the interference from Metellus and the Senate, I finally threw myself into preparing the tower's construction.
"The aediles gave their approval, and I've secured the necessary office. All that's left is to actually build the towers."
However, it did not take long for an unexpected obstacle to arise: the augurs.
In Rome, it was customary to seek divine omens before any major event or battle, and there was an entire class of officials devoted to nothing but such rites.
These diviners sought omens in animal entrails or the flight of birds, and absolutely no Roman dared to ignore their decrees.
"Seriously, why do I need the blessing of bird-watchers just to build a tower?"
I sat on the hill, watching the augurs doing their thing. Dressed in pristine white robes, they were just staring blankly at the sky, waiting for a bird to fly by.
By the customs attached to the vigintisexviri, any new road or structure required the augurs' blessing.
In truth, it was mostly ceremony and empty formality, but it was still a massive waste of time.
"They say the birds are scarce today, Young Master!"
Felix called out as he trudged up the hill.
"They want to wait a little longer. If nothing appears, we may have to give up for the day and return tomorrow."
"Can't we just grease their palms and be done with it?"
I really didn't want to sit out here all day waiting for a random pigeon to pass by. Though I suppose I should be thankful they weren't slicing open animal guts right in front of me.
"If word got out that the son of the Pontifex Maximus, of all people, said something like that, it would cause an absolute uproar," Felix said with a chuckle.
"Well then, I guess I'll just have to kill you to keep the secret, Felix."
I gave a long stretch. I genuinely had not expected to be held up by something this ridiculous.
Vitruvius and the engineers were ready to begin at once. The necessary materials and mechanisms were already prepared; all we had to do was assemble them.
"Honestly, how about we just buy a few pigeons or sparrows from the market and secretly release them?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, Young Master. At any rate, it's a relief that the Senate won't be interfering anymore," Felix said, dropping down onto the grass beside me.
"Those Optimates try to sabotage us at every turn. If you had tried to build the tower without getting elected to the vigintisexviri, they would have stopped it at once."
"Or they would have just stolen the tower for themselves. Not that they'd even know how to run it properly," I agreed with a nod.
Cicero's words from the Senaculum suddenly echoed in my mind.
The Senate fears a lone eagle.
Pompey, Crassus, and Caesar—they were all eagles.
The Senate feared them and tried everything in their power to clip their wings.
Ironically, that very suppression was what drove those eagles to join forces.
And now, the Senate's suffocating gaze was slowly turning toward me.
So what was my move here?
"Felix."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"Let's say a massive storm is coming—one big enough to swallow Rome whole. If you received a prophecy like that, what would you do?"
"If that storm goes by the name of Lucius Caesar, hasn't it already made landfall?"
Felix chuckled, but seeing my face, he awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Well... I'm not exactly sure what kind of storm you mean, but... if you know a storm is coming, shouldn't you prepare for it?" he continued.
"You know the story of Deucalion, right?"
"Prometheus figured out that Jupiter was going to unleash a great flood, so he warned his son, Deucalion. Deucalion built a massive ark, rode out the deluge and eventually landed on Mount Parnassus."
It was basically the Greek equivalent of Noah's Ark.
Once they landed on the mountain, Deucalion and his wife threw stones over their shoulders to create a new race of humans, the forebears of ancient Greece's royal lineages.
"If it were me, I think I'd start building an ark."
"A rational choice. You'd survive the storm if it hit, and even if it didn't, you'd at least have peace of mind."
I nodded as my gaze drifted back to the augurs.
Felix was right.
I needed to build my own ark. Honestly, that had been my underlying strategy this entire time.
"But the real question is: what kind of ark do you build, and who do you allow aboard?"
The pillars of the Roman Republic had been crumbling long before I was even born.
The Optimates were desperately clinging to their vested interests, while the Populares were using the masses as stepping stones to seize power.
Historically, Augustus had replaced the entire foundation while leaving the outward form of the 'Roman Republic' intact.
Was that what I was supposed to do?
Purge any senator who opposes me, completely subjugate the Senate, and crown myself the absolute ruler of Rome.
But was following in Augustus's blood-soaked footsteps really the life I wanted?
Maybe I'd ask Octavian himself the next time I ran into him.
"Why the sudden hypothetical, anyway? Wait, you don't actually..."
"It's nothing."
I waved him off with a laugh.
Felix would probably lose his mind if I told him the truth.
How would he react if I casually mentioned that the cosmic entity who reincarnated me into ancient Rome was the one who gave me that exact warning?
Honestly, I might as well call that woman a goddess.
She took a dead man, tossed him back in time, and handed him the keys to an infinite library of knowledge.
I still had no idea what her true aim was.
Just then, a sudden flurry of wings broke my train of thought.
A flock of pigeons swooped past overhead, their bluish-gray wings catching the sunlight.
"Ah, finally. Our feathery saviors have arrived."
I dusted myself off and made my way down the hill toward the augurs.
"I trust you got a good enough look just now. What's the verdict?"
"...This is highly unusual. Please, give us a moment."
The head augur, wearing a blue tunic under his white toga, furrowed his brow in confusion.
He huddled up with the other diviners, muttering in hushed tones, before finally turning back to me.
"It's inconclusive."
"Excuse me?"
Inconclusive?
What was that supposed to mean?
"Don't tell me we have to sit here and wait for more birds..."
"No, no, that isn't necessary. We have already completed the reading." the augur replied defensively. "And the result of the reading is exactly that: Inconclusive."
"That doesn't exactly sound like a ringing endorsement."
"It is incredibly rare. In fact, it's the first omen of its kind I've seen since I was appointed. Birds gliding with their wings fully spread is typically a sign of good fortune, but just now, their wings trembled slightly, and at the same time—"
"You can spare me the technical details. I trust your professional judgment," I said, offering a casual shrug.
Inconclusive.
The meaning was simple enough.
"It means things could go terribly wrong, or they could go incredibly well. Only one way to find out, right?"
The augur nodded slowly, as though that were sound theology.
Well, that was all the approval I needed.
Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I heard some very familiar, very loud voices echoing from down the road.
"You money-grubbing skinflint! You promised you would back Lucius up, and then you just sat there playing dumb on the Senate floor? And you still call yourself a man?!"
"You stupid meathead! How many times do I have to explain to you that it was..."
Pompey and Crassus.
The two titans of Rome were riding side by side, absolutely hurling insults at each other like sailors.
Felix and I just exchanged a silent, deadpan stare.
"Knock down one problem..." I muttered.
"...and another one pops right up," Felix finished.
Sighing heavily, I started walking toward the squabbling duo.
Maybe this was the 'inconclusive' omen the birds were trying to warn me about.
Trying to manage these two was enough to make me tear my hair out.
***
"Lucius! Perfect timing. Would you mind explaining the situation to this utter moron?"
"Sir Pompey, sir Crassus. It's lovely to see you both so full of energy this morning."
Completely ignoring my polite greeting, the two men dismounted, still trading vicious barbs. They looked like they were seconds away from throwing fists.
"Explain what, exactly?" I asked.
"The little 'act' you and I pulled on the Senate floor the other day," Crassus grumbled.
Act?
Ah, right. That.
"Is it true, Lucius?" Pompey demanded. "Getting blindsided by Metellus was actually part of your plan?"
"It's a bit complicated to explain out here, but essentially... yes."
The Senate had ultimately voted against funding my tower.
Metellus and his cronies were probably patting themselves on the back, thinking their petty revenge was a resounding success, but they were sorely mistaken.
In reality, they had played right into my hands.
"I specifically asked Sir Crassus for a favor behind closed doors. I needed him to distance himself from me during the session."
I needed the other senators to feel safe enough to go on the offensive.
By making it look like I lacked backing, I was able to slip out from under the Senate's stifling scrutiny.
"Thank you, Lucius," Crassus sneered triumphantly. "No matter how many times I spelled it out for him, this butcher couldn't wrap his head around it. But given his absolute lack of political instinct, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
Usually, Crassus had the cold, calculated air of a ruthless financier, but the moment Pompey entered the room, he regressed into a petty teenager.
Then again, Pompey was exactly the same.
"My lack of political instinct?! That's rich, coming from a glorified money grabber whose only strategy is throwing coins at a problem until it goes away—"
I hastily stepped between the two of them.
Seriously, if I let them keep going, they were going to end up in a wrestling match in the dirt.
What's the easiest way to break up a fight between two toddlers?
You dangle a giant piece of candy in front of them. Or distract them with a toy.
For these two grown men?
I knew exactly what to use.
"I'm glad you're both here, actually. This exact spot is where we'll be breaking ground on the first tower. Do you know what the tower will be called?" I continued. "The Crassus Tower."
"The Crassus Tower?" Pompey repeated, his brow furrowing.
"You're naming the tower after me?" Crassus asked, his eyes widening slightly.
Just like magic, the squabbling instantly ceased, and both men turned their full attention to me.
"You're generously sponsoring this endeavor. It's the absolute least I could do," I said smoothly. "Now, every merchant, soldier, and citizen traveling between Rome and Ostia will look up at this monument and speak the name of Crassus."
Ah, the timeless art of flattering powerful men.
Who knew my skills from previous life would be so perfectly applicable in ancient Rome?
The surest way to win support for a risky, unproven venture was to flatter the men above you.
If you credited the venture's future success to powerful patrons in advance, they were far more likely to support it.
Of course, I'd still be the one reaping the real benefits myself.
Crassus had bankrolled my election, acted as my foil in the Senate, and was about to provide the labor force to build the towers.
Slapping his name on a pile of bricks didn't cost me a single sestertius.
"The public will finally recognize just how deeply invested you are in the security of Rome and Ostia."
Crassus was practically glowing with a self-satisfied smirk, while Pompey looked like he had just bitten into a lemon.
"And the 'second' tower in the line will be..." I quickly added, pointing westward toward the coast, "...named the Pompey Tower. I have no doubt the citizens of Ostia will feel significantly safer with a tower named after their savior. Don't you agree?"
"Well... yes, I suppose they would," Pompey mumbled, clearing his throat and adjusting his toga.
"And what about the third tower?" Crassus asked. "Will it bear the name of the Caesar?"
"I'm still mulling it over," I replied with a light smile.
Honestly, I didn't care about getting my name on a building. Real power needed no public signboard.
"Regardless, you are the architect of this initiative," Crassus noted, slipping back into the air of a shrewd, calculating businessman. "Even if your name isn't carved into the plaques, anyone who gazes upon those towers will know exactly who built them."
"I suppose that's true."
Anyone who gazes upon those towers will think of me...
Wait a second.
That gave me a brilliant idea.
I thought back to the young patricians I had mingled with at the Campus Martius.
Most of them were sons of Populares senators, and the vast majority of them had been highly receptive to me.
I could bring their families onto my side without spending a single coin of my own.
I turned my head, gazing back at the barren hilltop where the first tower would soon rise.
"This is just the beginning," I said aloud. "Soon, we won't just be connecting Ostia. We'll be connecting every major city in Italy directly back to Rome. We're talking about dozens, maybe hundreds of towers springing up across Italy."
Even in the 21st century, politicians and billionaires were obsessed with leaving a legacy.
But in ancient Rome? Dignitas, reputation was the absolute currency of political life.
A family's standing and public recognition meant everything.
Roman politicians would quite literally kill for a bit of immortal glory.
What if I weaponized that ego?
"And every single one of those towers..." I smiled, a devious plot forming in my mind. "...is going to need a name."