Some three hundred years earlier, the Gauls had sacked Rome.
After crushing the Roman army at the Battle of the Allia, the Senones marched straight into the heart of Rome.
"Search for gold! Loot anything of value!"
"Drag out all the women! Kill every man! But spare the nobles—we can ransom them for a fortune!"
As the city was about to fall, its inhabitants made desperate choices of their own.
Some fled the city, while the able-bodied men and a number of senators led their families up to the Capitoline Hill.
Yet there were those who remained behind in the city center, calmly awaiting the Gauls.
The elder statesmen of the Senate.
"We are too old to fight. Rather than wasting the food of others, we choose to remain here."
They were mercilessly butchered by the invading Gallic warriors.
Afterward, the Gauls laid siege to the Capitoline Hill for months amid the ruins of Rome before finally withdrawing.
Ever since, the Romans harbored a deep-seated fear of the Gauls.
Whether every detail of this tale was historically true didn't matter; the Romans believed it to be true.
One famous legend from that siege had survived for generations.
When the Gauls attempted a stealthy midnight assault on the Capitoline, the sacred geese of the Temple of Juno honked loudly, alerting the guards.
The guard dogs, on the other hand, failed to do so.
And that was the very reason this bizarre ritual came to be.
"O Great Goddess Juno! We pray you protect our Republic from invaders for all eternity!"
While priests burned incense and waved sacred branches, dogs were crucified upon wooden crosses one by one.
Sitting beside Father, I watched the cheering citizens.
I really don't think I'll ever get used to this sight.
Putting innocent dogs through this ritual punishment every single year because their ancestors failed to bark centuries ago.
Crucified upon the wooden beams, the terrified dogs whimpered in agony.
Meanwhile, the geese rested comfortably inside a lavish litter placed right before the crosses.
The citizens hurled jeers and mockery at the dogs while cheering wildly for the geese.
Perched upon cushions adorned in gold and Tyrian purple, the geese seemed entirely indifferent to the chaos around them.
"We Romans forbid human sacrifice, calling it barbaric," I remarked. "Yet sacrificing animals like this doesn't feel much less barbaric."
"The gods always demand blood. And so do the citizens."
Just after Father replied, a small pup being carried toward a cross squirmed free from a priest's grasp.
A commotion instantly broke out as priests scrambled in all directions trying to catch the runaway dog.
Darting past the frantic priests, the puppy scurried straight toward Father.
"Come here, little one."
Father bent down and scooped the puppy into his arms.
Unaware of the grim fate awaiting him, the pup wagged his tail furiously and licked Father's hands.
"It is a pity to kill such a cute little thing."
"The gods are refusing this offering, Father."
"The gods refuse it?" Father asked, his eyes gleaming with interest. "What do you mean by that?"
"Precisely that. Under sacred law, if a sacrificial animal resists or flees, is that not regarded as an ill omen? Forcibly offering a sacrifice rejected by the gods might taint the entire rite and invite divine wrath."
"Your reasoning is sound. It could indeed cause ritual pollution. However, strictly speaking, this is a punishment, not a standard sacrifice."
"Even if it is not offered directly to the gods, are not all public rituals fundamentally intertwined with the divine?"
"Strictly speaking, everything in this world is intertwined with the divine."
Just then, the priest who had been holding the dog spoke up nervously.
"Pontifex Maximus... May we truly exempt a dog already designated for the ritual?"
"What are your thoughts on this matter, priests?"
At Father's question, the priests began whispering among themselves.
"It certainly isn't an auspicious sign."
"There is no reason to recapture an escaped dog merely to complete the rite."
"Then let us leave one cross empty," Father commanded.
So this was the authority of the Pontifex Maximus. One sentence from Father was enough to alter a sacred rite.
As the ceremony resumed, Father handed the puppy over to me.
"Since you saved this little one, I leave him in your care."
"A Molossian hound."
I took the young pup into my arms.
Molossians were renowned in this era as peerless shepherd and guard dogs.
At a glance, it resembled a mastiff, though its snout was longer and leaner.
Completely oblivious to how lucky he had just been, the pup happily licked my hand.
"Take him with you to Gaul. He'll make a fine companion in the camp."
"I shall."
I adjusted my posture. It had only been a few days since we had discussed the Gallic crisis with Pompey and Crassus.
Now that the existence of black powder had been confirmed in Gaul, we couldn't afford to sit idly by in Rome.
We had to march to Gaul ourselves, eliminate the threat, and uncover who was pulling the strings from the shadows.
Of course, there was a great deal to prepare first.
Most importantly, we had to secure the proconsulship of Gaul for Father next year.
Since that was what had happened in the original timeline, it shouldn't be too difficult.
Still, to think I'd be tagging along on Caesar's legendary Gallic campaign.
I had assumed that even if Father went to Gaul, I would remain in Rome.
Yet now that history was beginning to deviate, there was no guarantee the campaign would succeed as it did in the original timeline.
I needed to be there at his side.
"Actually, I discussed the Gallic situation with Crassus and Pompey in greater detail," Father said, his expression turning solemn. "Both agreed that an expedition is necessary, just as you said. They promised their full cooperation."
"Then Father's governorship of Gaul next year is practically set in stone."
Amidst the loud, obnoxious honking of a goose nearby, Father fell silent for a brief moment.
"No. I will not be taking the governorship of Gaul."
Wait. What?
Not taking the governorship?
"What do you mean by that?"
Before I could ask another question, Father added.
"The Gallic expedition will be led by Pompey."
"...Pompey?"
***
After Lucius stepped forward and proposed the Gallic expedition, Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus convened another private meeting.
"As we discussed previously, one of us must lead the Gallic campaign."
"Then shouldn't you take it, Caesar? You can secure the proconsulship of Gaul for next year before your term as consul ends."
At Crassus's suggestion, Pompey let out a cynical sneer.
"How surprising to see you so eager to volunteer Caesar for the job, Crassus."
"What are you implying?"
"Do you think we don't know you've been meeting secretly with the Pharaoh for the past few days? You're trying to get Caesar out of Rome so you can swallow Egypt whole, aren't you?"
"I met with the Pharaoh purely to aid Caesar. Was it not our shared objective to ensure the Pharaoh became an ally of Rome?"
"By using his debt as a leash to bring Egypt under your control? I am no fool, Crassus."
"Only a complete fool could entertain such preposterous suspicions."
Pompey and Crassus glared daggers at each other.
Amidst the suffocating tension, Caesar let out a heavy sigh.
"A pack of wolves always hunts together. And they share the spoils of the hunt equally. The glory of one among us is the glory of all three."
"A wolf pack has only one leader," Pompey growled, his eyes still locked on Crassus.
"And no wolf steals the best meat while the others aren't looking."
"Nor does a true wolf waste his time strutting around to show off his meager coat."
At that, Caesar abruptly rose from his seat.
With both men watching him, Caesar spoke.
"I have a proposal for you both."
***
"Until now, the glue holding the three of us together was you, Lucius," Father said. With one cross standing bare, the ritual proceeded around us.
"If you and I depart for Gaul together, only Pompey and Crassus will remain in Rome."
"The two of them have always despised each other."
Whenever they crossed paths, they were too busy growling at each other.
Sometimes they looked less like middle-aged Roman statesmen and more like petty schoolchildren.
"So you intend to entrust the Gallic campaign to Pompey?"
"Pompey is an exceptional general. Of that there can be no doubt. And he is a man who relishes glory and honor more than anyone else."
That was undeniable. He had fought in Hispania, wiped out the Mediterranean pirates, brought the Mithridatic Wars to a close, and reorganized the entire East.
"If I remain in Italy, I can keep Crassus in check. Or I can keep Crassus occupied by dangling opportunities in Egypt before him," Father said. "Crassus is a sharp man. He knows perfectly well that a successful Gallic campaign serves his interests too."
"Still..."
I scrambled to find the right words, but came up empty.
I had naturally assumed Father would be the one heading to Gaul.
I had clearly been far too fixated on the original history.
"That is not the only reason. Even if the Religious Council concludes this year, I must remain in Italy to oversee the implementation of its resolutions," Father explained. "Once the council wraps up, I plan to personally tour the allied cities that participated. That will firmly cement their support for our temple reforms."
"And more people in the provinces will become favorably disposed toward Rome—and toward you."
It was a convincing plan. Much like the First Triumvirate in the original history, the three men were dividing up their spheres of influence.
Pompey in Gaul, Caesar in Italy, and Crassus in Egypt and the East.
It was a dangerous arrangement in its own right: three men were essentially carving out their own domains outside normal senatorial procedure.
As if sensing my concern, Father added,
"Of course, we must first secure the approval of the Senate and the Citizen Assembly. Cato will undoubtedly oppose this proposal. And Cicero will oppose it as well, of course."
"I will devise a way to handle that."
I considered his words. Still, the thought of going on a Gallic expedition with Pompey Magnus was difficult to imagine.
I couldn't help but wonder how it would unfold.
The Gallic War I knew from history no longer existed.
Even I couldn't be certain of what was to come.
"I wish this were enough to put our minds at ease, but we still have a tremendous amount of work to do before the new year." Father tapped my arm.
"Lucius, you said the Gauls have acquired a new weapon. I don't believe for a moment that you intend to embark on an expedition completely unprepared."
"Of course not."
I nodded. Until now, I had deliberately avoided manufacturing gunpowder.
In the original history, gunpowder first appeared in 9th-century China. That was still centuries ahead of our current era.
It was impossible to predict the butterfly effect of introducing gunpowder to Rome this early.
I had no desire to spend the rest of my life conquering foreign nations and tribes...
Yet I no longer had the luxury of choice.
If the Gauls had gunpowder, Rome needed gunpowder of its own.
Still, Romans armed with gunpowder...
I couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of future this would forge.
Possessing gunpowder alone didn't magically create an invincible modern army overnight, though.
In China and across Asia, gunpowder had been used for centuries without completely replacing traditional weapons like spears and swords.
Also, having gunpowder didn't mean we could instantly produce modern rifles either.
That required not just gunpowder, but precision metallurgy, reliable ignition mechanisms, and specialized ammunition.
Even if I handed over blueprints, ancient blacksmiths couldn't simply hammer modern rifles into existence.
Yet gunpowder was still a formidable weapon.
Above all, I held one overwhelming advantage: Rome's vast mining capacity, its Mediterranean trade network, and the network of blacksmiths across Italy that I had recently brought together under my patronage.
The fundamental industrial foundation was already in place.
"If the Gauls have acquired such a weapon, shouldn't we arm ourselves with it as well?"
"I won't pry into how you discovered the formula. You have always been shrouded in secrets, after all."
Father let out a sigh before chuckling softly.
"However, if that weapon is truly as powerful as you claim, we must keep its manufacturing method strictly confidential. For the time being, Rome alone must possess the means to manufacture it."
"I agree entirely."
I nodded. The real issue was how to maintain secrecy.
While my technical school had never suffered a major security breach, it was common for workers to resign or strike out on their own.
Knowledge etched into a man's mind could not be easily controlled.
And I couldn't exactly lock my workers in chains.
"I have an idea," Father said, lowering his voice. "Entrust it to those who keep secrets better than anyone else in Rome."
Those who kept Rome's secrets better than anyone...
Don't tell me...
I couldn't help laughing.
Right. That was the obvious answer.
***
"Doesn't Vitruvius usually handle matters like this? I don't understand why Caesar entrusted this to us."
"Vitruvius is drowning in work with Nova Troia and the Subura. Plus, he still has to refine the design of those hot-air balloons."
Spurius said, rolling his shoulders.
Early that morning, Spurius walked through the Forum alongside other senior staff from the technical school.
All of them, including Spurius, were seasoned masters of their respective fields.
"Still, commanding us not to breathe a word of this to anyone... Just what on earth could it be?"
"If Caesar classified it as a matter of highest state secrecy, it must be exceptionally important. We'll find out once we arrive."
They continued through the Forum.
Passing citizens who had gathered to hear heralds proclaim the morning news, they finally arrived at their destination.
"I still can't even begin to guess why we were summoned here."
"Neither can I," Spurius said, gazing at the structure before them.
A round, elegant temple.
Though modest in scale compared with Rome's grander temples, within this building burned the sacred flame at the heart of Rome's divine protection.
It was the sacred sanctuary where the priestesses guarded Rome's eternal flame.
Before them stood the Temple of Vesta.