Domitian returned a well-mannered smile.
"I see you've taken my advice," Julius continued, flicking his eyes at the men Domitian had brought while he put a hand on his in-law's round shoulder.
"Isn't advice just easier to give than take?" the portly man taunted, his drab eyes rolling like a stranded fish. "Do you have any idea how these men …" He stopped himself short, spurting a sigh.
Wise enough not to piss on the men you want to command in their presence.
Gales skirled through the deep gullies of mountains, ruffling the sod. Julius called it the caterwaul of the valley. Straining his cheeks to keep the smile, he sketched to his yurt. "Shall we proceed inside?"
The portly man nodded, tucking the cloak around his barrel chest, a piece of deep blue velvet inlaid with smooth pearls from the south.
Inside the yak skins, flame swayed atop a thistle brazier, puffing warm breaths; lattice walls creaked to the wind.
"Atrocious weather," Domitian tsked. "Don't you have summer up here at all?"
"We're having it now," Julius shrugged airily, looking over his shoulder. "Wait till the sun comes out. It can be quite searing at noon."
His in-law pouted, bobbing his head, then turned to a large hanging of a map behind the mahogany desk. "This can't be right." He circled his fingers around the bank of Lesto where Julius had circled out locations for encampments. "This kind of deployment clearly conflicts with the teaching of the Book of A Militant. You should never camp along rivers."
Julius entertained the chance of stupidity clad in panache. Too many high lords he had met such as his in-law, might they have never reddened a blade, they seldom shied from giving him a word or two on how he should wield his sword. He glimpsed Domitian, amused by how a man could have lived all the many years in exile yet still understood little to nothing off the books. He knew that Marcus Uranus had been covertly sending him gold with the Legidus' help. While the gold had ensured Domitian a decent life, it seemed to have denied him the chance of ever becoming a man.
Listening to his in-law regurgitating strategies never quite so the case when tested in a different setting, he grabbed a bottle of liquor from his mahogany desk and sat next to the brazier. It beguiled what seemed insufferable a few gulps ago.
Ariadne had been spot on with her half-brother, Julius thought while he drank. Like every other entitled underachiever who tried too hard in their own ways to establish themselves, this one did so by showing off. Small wonder, given his birth. But the more eager he was to show, especially when he had nothing to show for, the more vexing a man he came across.
Know thy enemy; know thyself.
Those were Consul Cladius' words, and Julius found himself thinking about the man he used to call uncle of late. He frowned, compelling his focus to the present. Narrowing his gaze at Domitian as he harangued about his meetings with this or that important name he met over the years, Julius brooded his motives.
Other than treachery, greed, or even cowardice that drove Domitian into betraying the trust of Lady Anatolia, it was, perhaps, the want of being around those he had fancied himself as. When Laelia Euphrates offered him the overtures of an alliance, she must have made him feel as worthy as he was not. Of the very few apt to dance with the phoenix, Domitian must have believed himself to be among them. All she needed to sway his allegiance was to give him a taste of his own fancy.
Such as the vice of hope as it justifies the cruelty of men.
Julius took another gulp. "I've heard many times that my brother is a polymath. And always, I value the opinions of a learned man like yourself. I had many problems while building this dam, and many times, believe me, I've thought of seeking your advice. Unfortunately, we both know that's impossible as it'd disrespect the Praetor's decree." He paused to measure the content fermenting in the other man's heavy breaths.
"Once your banishment was lifted, however, I invited you forthwith." He raised the bottle lengthwise a little over his head. "Drink?"
"Not forthwith," Domitian corrected him, couldn't withhold at the trivia even when it risked missing the forest for the trees. "But since you're the first who pledged me your allegiance, I'll look past it." Padding to the brazier, he stopped before Julius and narrowed his gaze, one brow spiking over the other. "No stein or chalice?"
Julius quaffed more. "I'd ask my adjutant to fetch you a wine cup if you have to drink with a pinky. But I wouldn't recommend it." He wiped the spill off his chin with the back of a hand. "When you ride south, you want to appear as a man capable of commanding the Exonian military with the support of my legion. You have to. And to appear so, you need their respect. But here is the tricky part with respect: no one can hand it to you." Rising to his feet, he rammed the bottle at Domitian's chest. "You earn it."
Domitian reeled back a step, holding the bottle in both hands. His eyes twitched, not knowing where to look. "Where is my sister, by the way?" He changed the subject. "How isn't she here to welcome me?"
Took you long enough to notice her absence.
"She's gone to the nearby town with servants to restock sundries for your stay. She should be back by nightfall."
"How nice of her," said Domitian with a smudge of a smirk in his drab eyes. "I'm glad she seemed to have come to her senses. Her mother was only holding her as a hostage. I gave away Anatolia to save her. It's all part of my plan! And look at her now, happily married to you! What would have become of her had it not been for me? Father would have disowned her. And without Father's gold, she'd probably have to open her legs for bread like some peasant girl!"
Julius cracked his knuckles, stifling the urge to add another dent in the man's bulbous nose.
The wind whipped through the wall flaps as his adjutant dipped in his head.
He didn't say a word but only gestured with a nod.
Julius returned a smile and directed his gaze back to his in-law. "Forget about Ariadne," he said airily. "We have more important issues to discuss, man to man." He had to pause for a breath lest his dripping contempt would seep through his pretense. "When I sent you my invitation, I meant every word. I want to help you claim what's yours in the capital. Laelia Euphrates is our common enemy. And to crush her, we must focus our attack. A hand punches better when it's a fist. That's why I'll help you earn the respect of the Exonian troops."
Domitian quirked his brows incredulously. "How?"
"Come. I want to show you the Dam. And you can impress us with your advice on how to maintain it." As he spoke, he glanced at the bottle gripped still in Domitian's pudgy hand. "And drink up. It'll be windier up there."
Tucking at his velvet cloak, Domitian acquiesced. An unbidden scowl wrung his face like a grease-sodden rag. He put down the bottle on the mahogany desk and tailed Julius outside.
There awaited the two Exonian riders who were at the head of each column. The
one with an auburn whisker, Sir Caeso Cassia, Julius observed, and the shortie, Sir Rufus Severan. He turned to Domitian. "Will you honor me, brother, and introduce our guests?"
As did Domitian, he gave each man in turn a meaningful nod. Having left them to his adjutant's care, he led Domitian back to the dam.
"Caeso and Rufus are my subordinates," said his in-law.
"So?"
"So, why did you have to leave them behind?"
Julius exhaled a long sigh. Swiveling to Domitian, he smiled with only his lips. "What I'm showing you is perhaps our most important infrastructure that controls three major waterways. With it, we control the Exonians and the Turisians. We control them now as we control the source of their water. Do you still want to ask me why I wouldn't let them accompany us to the Dam?"
"Then why did you ask me to bring the Exonian force?" Domitian rounded on. "I need them for my security! And how will your men respect me when I can't even take my guards where I go?"
Julius doubled his fists, his lips primmed. "Many brothers have died building this dam so we can have unprecedented leverage in the north," he intoned at length. "If you want their allegiance, you'd better at least act as if you care what they give their life for. Understood?"
Furrowing his brow, Domitian opened his mouth. Besides wet puffs of heavy breaths, nothing else came out.
"Good," Julius gave him a backhanded slap on the chest and walked ahead.
Through a narrow track cut deep in the rocks, with only a smudge of endless sierra at their horizon, they arrived at the stairs spiraling into height and began their ascend. Amidst the creaks of rungs, the thumping steps, and the roaring water many feet below came Domitian's wheezing.
Julius had to stop and wait every few steps. He reminded himself never to underestimate a fool.
Useless a fool might be, he could still trip you. It's up to you whether the fool should be your stumbling block or stepping stone.
The words came to him again unbidden.
He rubbed his brow as if that would wipe the voice out of his head but only seemed to have it amplified. He shut his eyes and saw for a moment the length of a pulse a bee hive hanging on a large sycamore.
His eyes popped open.
As they reached the crest of the dam, with Domitian lagging behind him, huffing and puffing, Lextus Marcellus Fronius came to meet them from the other side. In his late thirties, the man was Julius' chief engineer and the mind behind many if not all the projects that meant to challenge even the wills of Gods. He had an enormous forehead, plowed by years of frowning and framed by ruffled hair the color of sand. Under the brow bones, his dark eyes situated deep in the sockets, divulging little. Clean-shaved and relatively chubby, his cheeks, however, retained a suppleness that rendered an otherwise cranky face somewhat placid.
Fronius wasn't an athletic man; nor was he eloquent. Quite irascible, he shot words with little regard for consequences. He had offended many men, important men, and the more he had offended, the closer he drove himself up to a cul-de-sac. Until he met Julius. Who believed that all men had their flaws, and flaws cut. The more fatal a flaw in a man, the more angular he grew, turning him iridescent like a gemstone. Fronius was flawed with brilliance.
Accompanying the brilliant man was Quirinus Lorentius Silvius. Tall and handsome with pale blue eyes, he was deft in his own way quite different than Fronius. A baseborn he might be, he was the best warrior in the north, capable of taking down a century himself. And Julius had made him Tribune of the west flank.
Julius regarded both men in turn with a nod. At the gesture, Fronius began introducing his design.
"Unlike the usual embankment dam that requires a great abundance of materials to have the width from abutment to crest, the dam of Uruk curves upstream in the plane," the man intoned, his shoulders back, his voice almost too high-pitched for a man his age. "Utilizing hydrostatic pressure, it could be remarkably thin in cross-section with a base-to-height ratio below zero point two. Hence, it's able to take up less than half of the cement and gravel it'd otherwise require."
Julius smiled. Never had the brilliant man needed any advice on how to marshal his genius. He turned to Domitian with a straight face. "What do you think, brother? You've mentioned earlier that you had studied under Master Aelius Albus at the Lyceum. Will you honor us with your insight?"
Domitian raised his doubled chin, his drab eyes incredulous.
To spur him on in the wrong direction, Julius lowered to the other man's ear. "Everyone here listens to Fronius, including myself," he added. "Imagine the kind of man Fronius will listen to. It can't be anyone lesser than the true heir of House Uranus."
His in-law took the bait, harping again on his experience and arduous academic pursuit despite the wrongful hardship he had to endure. Then, finally, when he felt he had talked enough about his qualifications, he turned to the crenulated fence. "While I salute you, Fronius, for having used less than half of the cement and gravel it would otherwise require, the cost-efficiency was at the cost of a majestic air this dam could have struck."
Fronius shot him a side-eye.
"My father, the Praetor Magnum, has paid a great deal for this, and like you've said," Domitian continued, turning to Julius, "this dam has earned us leverage in the north. But as a Renanian facade, I have to say, it's rather unimpressive."
"This is not some vanity project the Praetor would have for and about himself," Fronius retorted with a quaver in his voice. Balling his hands as he whirled, he would have pounced on the bastard had Quirinus Silvius not stayed him.
"By no means," Domitian seconded with a shrug, impervious to his audience. "But one ought to expect gravitas emanating from a civil project as important as the Dam of Uruk! One of many things I've garnered from Master Aelius Albus' remarkable lectures is that not everything is supposed to do what they appear for. A dam is to control water, yes. But remember, its presence should also inspire fear, and fear alone would suffice as a deterrent!"
Espying Quirinus tuck his chin at his shoulder, Julius refrained from a snort. "Small wonder the Exonians are wusses, and the twat takes their word for it," he muttered to Julius.
Wusses or not, the Exonian master did have a point. Julius thought. Not everything is supposed to do what it appears for. But if everything works only as a facade, deprived of any substance, for how long can it deceive? Drawing in his chin, he lifted his eyes at his in-law.
...