Hero of Rome

Titus

New Rome came into view as Titus and Caesar returned to avenge Maximus upon Umbra’s ashen back. Both of them wore black capes to honor Maximus whom they had just buried. Umbra had a somewhat difficult time flying across the ocean. Afterall, Titus had followed through on the promise to keep the flow of wine steady for the Pegasus in return for watching over Livia and Cleopatra.

A storm of conflicting emotions raged within Titus as they landed in the Roman fortress in America. His trust for Caesar still remained despite his earlier suspicions. The reports of smallpox decimating the Iroquois peoples would justify a native’s desire to want to kill the one who spread it. That was easy to understand. Yet, it all still seemed too easy. How on earth could Rome’s strongest and wisest emperor be assassinated by a single and sickened prisoner? It didn’t make any sense.

Cleopatra had been convinced it was Caesar’s doing. Before they left for the revenge campaign, she had pleaded with Titus and Livia to not trust him.

“He will force me to marry him, to bear his children,” she whispered through bitter tears on the night of Maximus’s funeral. “You cannot trust him, Titus.”

Cleopatra broke down into Livia’s arms who comforted her. Titus understood her suspicion and pain.

“Come home to me,” Livia pleaded before Titus left, holding onto his hand.

“I promise to be careful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He gave her one quick and quiet kiss to not disturb Cleopatra.

They were keeping very quiet to avoid any of Caesar’s spies from hearing, like Cassius. The Shadow who controlled Caesar’s spy ring had not been seen for over a month, much to Titus’s suspicion. He could be anywhere with his Pluto blessing of invisibility. Before his death, Maximus had learned that Cassius’s true name was Oppius, but Caesar never clarified nor mentioned him by that name ever since. Cassius, or Oppius, had been a darkly strange figure, and no one trusted him anymore. He could be listening from any shadow.

In that moment, Titus swore to himself that he would not be as trusting as before.

Yet, when Caesar asked for the Friendship Key for Umbra on their way to America, Titus found he could not resist his high charisma.

“Rome cannot lose both of its emperors in the same week,” he said as they soared across the frothing seas. “It will give me peace of mind to know I can take to the skies at any moment to avoid a savage’s assassination attempt if there forbid be any.”

When Caesar put it that way, he had to agree. Titus complied, giving him the tool that could teleport Umbra anywhere where the key was. Umbra barely paid any attention. He was too drunk on wine to care.

Let me know when we land, he thought to their minds, as if he weren’t the one flying.

The men praised Caesar when he and Titus arrived. They looked relieved to not be abandoned by their sole surviving emperor. When Caesar announced to them that they would be seeking a heavy punishment upon the natives for assassinating Maximus, they exploded with zealous enthusiasm. The only ones who were not as excited as the rest were the Centurion Lucius, the Camp Prefect, and the Centurion’s second in command. Titus’s suspicions immediately flared at the sight of Lucius, whom he doubted from their first encounter.

I need you sober while we’re here, Titus thought to Umbra’s mind. We will need to take shifts sleeping.

If that’s how you want it, Umbra thought in response, though it was impossible to tell if he was really considering the gravity of this situation.

Caesar, Titus, Lucius, and several scouts from the fortress met inside the headquarters tent in the center of the fortress to discuss reports. Titus’s jaw almost fell to the floor at the scouts’ words.

“Over seven thousand have fallen to smallpox,” they concluded. “With Tadodaho’s seven thousand also completely wiped out, that leaves only around ten thousand Iriquois natives left.”

“Only ten thousand?” Caesar repeated in astonishment. “This vengeance for Maximus will be far easier than I realized. It seems the gods are favoring us with their divine wrath. Have they been able to contain it?”

“No my lord.”

“Than we shall let the disease spread until they have. Once they do, we shall squash them from this continent.”

A cold move, Titus thought, considering they brought new versions of the vaccines with them from Valerius. But it made sense. This would be less gruesome than a full on war.

“But, my lord, one of their chiefs, Chief Shikellamy, has requested to speak with you. He is known for being a peacemaker. Much of his family suffers with the disease, and we believe he wants to offer his alliance to fight any other tribes we encounter in the Americas. Maximus had said there are two great native empires to the far south that will prove a far greater challenge than they. They are called the Aztecs and the Incans. From his understanding, they number in the millions.”

Caesar stroked his chin for a moment, thinking. He looked at Titus after a minute.

“Titus, I fear this could be a trap to lure us in. I need you to go on my behalf to seek peace and negotiate a truce. If what this chief says is true, we should take any alliance we can get. It will help us to establish favorable trade and one day take on such great foes.”

“Of course, Caesar,” Titus said.

“Good. Let us make haste on this meeting. If this tribe becomes an ally, we will give them the vaccine. I fear if we wait too long they will die out from this rapid disease.”

The meeting concluded, leaving Titus feeling more confused than ever. While they were punishing the rest of the natives and would assuredly conquer their lands, Caesar’s desire to make peace and offer help to those affected by smallpox further confused him. Cleopatra must have only had bad dreams, for Caesar was not proving to be the monster that she feared. And if he desired to marry her, that would only secure her palace in Rome, as awful the timing was and as much as she wouldn’t want to do it.

Life, he concluded, along with its peoples, were complicated. At least for now, Titus could salvage this mission to colonize the Americas. Titus would make Maximus proud for finishing the good work he began for Rome.

And like with how he blessed Maximus and many others, he had an idea for peace. It was a slim chance it would work, but he had to try.

Later that day, as the sun began its downward descent, Titus, along with twenty Romans and Maximus’s top three men, marched into the golden forest clearing for the peace meeting. Awaiting them stood Chief Shikellamy, his son Logan, and fifty other natives. The Chief’s hair, like the others, was jet black. Because of his age, he was grayed around the edges and hung loosely upon his shoulders. His deer skin clothing was simple, nothing flashy, wearing only a singular feather on his head. Shikellamy bowed his head slightly at Titus. There was a deep fatigue in his eyes and weathered, reddish brown skin. He looked ready to sleep despite the slight chill picking up in the autumn wind.

His son Logan on the other hand exuded anger towards the Romans. Hatred was practically seething from his glare as Titus, Lucius, Gaius, and Tiberius greeted them. He was dressed in fine buckskin like his father, also choosing to not have any excessive ornaments on his person. Logan twisted his grip on his obsidian spear, almost begging for an excuse to use it.

Before Titus could say or do anything, Logan exploded with rage. His words were foreign to Titus as he pointed at them and screamed at his father. Shikellamy only watched his son with disappointment, waiting for him to finish. When he was done, Shikellamy began talking softly to Titus, as if he were apologizing for his son’s behavior who stood with arms crossed.

When his father finished, Logan turned around to bring one of the natives to the center. Titus cringed at the disease-ridden native who could hardly walk, being led gingerly by Logan as if she could break. It was a small girl, not older than her mid-teens. Logan spoke to her softly, cusping her face with his worn hands. The girl nodded, tears running down her darker skin, skin that was covered in bumps from smallpox.

Lucius looked at Gaius and Tiberius, clearly uncomfortable.

Logan turned back to Titus, again picking up his ferocious accusations which Titus could not understand. The outburst only lasted a few minutes. As soon as he was done, Titus signaled for one of his men to bring forth the wooden crate of vaccines.

“These will heal you,” he said as they placed it carefully beside the girl. He knew they couldn’t understand him but he didn’t know what else to say.

Shikellamy pointed to his son to investigate the crate. Logan sneered and opened the lid, examining the glass vials inside. He muttered something dark under his breath before returning his glare to Titus. Logan barked another barrage at him. It was clear he did not trust the Romans to use the vaccines.

Titus expected this.

That’s why he spent the last several hours hammering out a small trinket of the Iroquois god Hahgwehdiyu. Maximus had left behind some notes about the religion of the natives and had said this god to be the god of light and all things good.

Titus took a cautious step forward, receiving fifty obsidian spears angled at him for making such an unexpected move. Titus held up both hands, letting the trinket hang from his hand.

“Hahgwehdiyu,” he said, trying to pronounce as best as he could, which was probably incorrect. Titus gave the trinket to the Chief, who looked at him with shock as he closed the Chief’s hand around it.

Shikellamy looked at his son with surprise. And then, a large smile spread across his cracked lips.

“Hahgwehdiyu!” the old Chief said. At his celebration, the rest of the natives lowered their spears and relaxed. Although they couldn’t understand each other, they didn’t have to kill each other. They could be men of honor, working alongside each other to establish peace.

Titus turned to see Lucius, Gaius, and Tiberius looking relieved. Titus had been surprised that Caesar ordered all four of them to go. Really, Titus could have done this alone.

But his contemplation ceased when the sound of flesh and bone breaking sounded behind him. Titus whipped around to see a gruesome sight: the old Chief gasped at the arrow sticking right through his skull. He was too stunned to feel a stinging at his neck. All was silent until the chief fell over dead. Titus risked one look behind him, only to see Lucius, Gaius, and Tiberius all had Roman arrows protruding through their skulls as well. Each of them dropped immediately.

Logan, along with his natives, exploded with vengeful rage against the Romans, screaming as they attacked. Titus tried to move his hand to grab his warhammer but found it impossible to move. Instead, he too fell to the ground. Blood gushed from the side of his neck as his face slammed into a pile of leaves, completely paralyzed from whatever coated the arrow. The System was trying to tell him something about it, but he was too overwhelmed to understand.

As the world grew dark around him from the poison, Logan looked shocked at Titus for the briefest of moments before unleashing his wrath against the Romans.