"Fuck, close this section too," I said.
My slaves quickly built a tent-like wall that divided the corridor. We were attempting to keep the mansion warm. But some sections of the building had leaks that allowed the cold air to make its way inside. The only way to insulate the heat was by sealing those corridors off.
This winter was not like any other. It was snowing in Rome. But the bad omens did not stop there, for the eternal fire kept by the vestal virgins was extinguished. Paranoia ran rampant. The pagans were accusing the christians of sabotage, while the christians were claiming this was a punishment from God. It was a stupid incident, but both Pagan and Christian alike wanted me to take action as the consul.
The real disaster laid awaiting for us underneath the snow. Massive crop failure. There was no more food to continue the daily shipment of free grain to plebs. The patricians quickly grasped the situation and armed their slaves. I was barely on time to outbid another few patricians into acquiring the rights of a hundred former gladiators. Their practice now outlawed by orders of Emperor Manlius, who thought gladiator matches were too savage for a christian empire.
The situation was bleak. It was only a matter of time before the streets of Rome exploded into open violence.
If I were to flee the city, my absence would be noticed and it would cost me my job. But there was no point in fleeing. Even if we retreated back to my villa a few days from Rome, any unrest that spiraled out of control would eventually spread to the rest of Italy.
I sent letters to Manlius and to Patrick, requesting military support to keep order in Rome. But there was no response. Ravenna and Milan had gone dark. The most logical explanation was that the roads were no longer safe. But this was not a thought as entertaining as Manlius being dead, a Barbarian horde invading Italy itself, or a civil war being fought in Gaul.
Without military backing, and with the sudden loss over my monopoly in violence, my political position was in free fall. As my position eroded, fewer and fewer people started showing up to the parties hosted by my sister.
When I entered the room where we had the imperial bath, only Arya's eyes were happy to see me. My sister Claudia, my cousin Galla, Faustina and Junia were indifferent, just like Cornelia and Mika. The only one who felt ashamed was John. They were all swimming and drinking naked in the warm waters of the pool. But unlike the girls, my poor cousin-in-law John was a christian.
He was the unlucky fellow who married my cousin Junia. My sister arranged this marriage to secure a military backing for our family in case Manlius were to be overthrown. Truly a smart decision, for John had a thousand soldiers at this command.
Cornelia, on the other hand, still a pagan, was my sister's best friend. My sister has been trying to push me into marrying rather lately. Cornelia's family, the Cornelli, are a family of legendary status in the history of Rome as a whole. But the only meaningful contribution that her family brings to the table is their immense fortune and connections.
"John," I said. "I just got word that the food rations in Rome will only last for one more week at this rate. You are to take eighty of my gladiators and all the slaves at your disposal and make your way to your garrison in Ostia."
John looked confused, he didn't seem to grasp the implications.
"Tiberius and do what exactly?"
"Take your entire garrison and make haste, south, to Capua."
John stood up and got off from the pool. A random slave provided him with a towel.
"Capua?"
"Pillage Capua and all the farms within 15 kms of the city," I said, "Don't forget to bring back all their food supplies."
"T-Tiberius, that is-"
"John, will there be a problem with that?" My sister asked.
John said nothing. He grunted and left the room into the cold hallway.
When John left, I undressed and dipped into the water. Keeping the water warm was a labor-intensive task. Slave after slave entered the room and emptied buckets of boiling water into the pool. They would then take water out and boil it again, repeating the cycle.
"Cornelia, tell you father that I've chosen him as co-consul. Go now, tell him I need to speak to him tonight."
She just pouted, knowing that I had essentially ordered to leave too. When she got out of the pool, I couldn't help but stare at her naked butt and at her long brunette hair that was well groomed, with a few fake blonde braid extensions. Unlike barbarian girls, Cornelia looked fragile and refined. She knew I was peeking, so she took her sweet time. Arya covered my eyes with her palms and softly bit me in the neck.
"R-rawr."
Stupid.
"Tiberius, so now that they are gone, can you tell us truly what is going on?" Junia asked. "You sure haven't sent my new husband to his death, right?"
Everyone looked at me, expecting an answer.
"Let's just say, that the Empire is changing."
"What is that supposed to mean, Tiberius," Said my sister. Her voice was filled with indignation.
"The Roman army will have to resort to banditry, fucking banditry, to survive the winter. This is the most obvious logical conclusion, instead of letting that happen, I am looting Italy first."
No one in the room understood the implications. The Empire has fallen. The Pannonian coup was not an Aryan victory over paganism, or a Roman victory over a Barbarian Emperor. Instead, Pannonia was a veiled military coup of a failed state. The Army is no longer protecting the interests of the Empire, its people, or Emperor. Instead, the Empire has turned into a tool for the Army to sustain itself.
The disconnect between the Political elite and Military elite was just one symptom of the great rot that Manlius long spoke about. That night, Capua was torched to the ground.