Son of Julius Caesar: Rebuilding Rome [Business/Republic building]

Chapter 140: Chapter 140 : Small Talk

"Have you ever seen this many people gathered in Rome?"

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crowd this large, not even during a festival."

It was the year 695 ab urbe condita—695 years since the founding of Rome.

As the new year dawned, the streets of Rome overflowed with people.

In the cold morning air, the two new consuls stepped out to take office.

Caesar and Lucceius.

Roman citizens traditionally referred to the year by the names of the two consuls serving at the time. Thus, the new year would be remembered as the year when Caesar and Lucceius held the consulship.

However, the name the citizens actually chanted in the streets was entirely different.

To the people, it was the Year of Gaius and Lucius.

Gaius Julius Caesar and his son, Lucius.

Everyone knew that these two men would be the true driving forces of the coming year.

"I see a lot of people from the allied cities as well."

"Naturally. Do you have any idea how much wealth Caesar promised to pour into allied cities?"

As the streets overflowed with people, leaving barely any room to stand, slaves tossed petals into the air. First came crimson rose petals; then a vivid shower of other colors danced on the wind, adorning the city.

For a moment, the city seemed less like Rome than a garden from some divine festival.

"You would think Caesar was celebrating a triumph."

It wasn’t just Roman citizens; countless people had traveled from other cities and regions.

Among them were even men who had crossed the sea from Hispania, where Caesar had recently served as governor and greatly strengthened his client network there.

"Here they come!"

As the citizens pointed and cheered, the lictors bearing the fasces came into view. As they cleared a path through the dense crowd, men in togas followed close behind.

Gaius Julius Caesar. Beside him walked a young man.

It was Lucius.

***

Gaius Julius Caesar drew a deep breath.

He had climbed the Capitoline Hill hundreds of times before. Atop the hill stood the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, a place Caesar had visited countless times as Pontifex Maximus.

But today was different.

By tradition, the incoming consuls were required to offer sacrifices at the Temple of Jupiter.

It was a sacred rite: to discharge the vows of their predecessors and make new vows for the Republic’s coming year.

"It certainly took me a long time to get here."

He chuckled softly, looking down from the hill. Every single Roman citizen was looking up at him. Though he was not alone—Luceius was right beside him—everyone knew whom the day truly belonged to.

Caesar thought of his late father, the man who had believed in his success more fiercely than anyone else.

What would his father say if he could see him now?

"He would probably scold me for taking so long," Caesar murmured in a low voice.

He now held the consulship, the highest magistracy of the Republic, and with it one of Rome’s greatest forms of imperium.

It was the moment he had dreamed of his entire life, yet strangely, he felt no surge of excitement or joy.

What should he do with the imperium and auctoritas now placed in his hands?

Should he stand atop Rome, or should he push Rome to even greater heights?

His gaze drifted to a single face in the sea of people.

Lucius Julius Caesar.

Meeting his son’s eyes, Caesar offered a bright smile.

"Yes. This is not the end, but the beginning."

Just then, Luceius stepped closer and spoke.

"It is time to enter the temple."

"Let us go together."

Accompanied by Luceius and escorted by their lictors, Caesar began his ascent.

At long last, the true beginning had come.

***

Standing in the temple’s central chamber, Cicero swallowed hard as he watched Caesar and Lucceius.

The moment he had dreaded had finally arrived: Caesar’s first day as consul. The tidal wave that would shake Rome to its core had begun.

"What sort of speech do you think Caesar will deliver?"

"I have no idea. Something similar to what he announced earlier, I suppose."

"You mean that ’One-Year Plan’?"

"To push through more than a hundred policies in a single year...You’d have to be out of your mind to propose something like that."

"Well, with Lucius by his side, perhaps it is actually possible."

The senators seated around Cicero engaged in heated debate. Some were fervent supporters of Caesar, while many others openly expressed their wariness.

"What about Metellus?"

"Quintus Metellus? I heard he’s been living like a half-dead recluse ever since his son declared independence."

"So one of the main pillars of the Optimates has completely collapsed."

Listening to the senators’ chatter, Cicero took a deep breath.

Today was the perfect opportunity to reassert his presence.

He and Caesar had to play out a delicate piece of political theater to preserve the Republic’s fragile balance.

To save Rome, he had to step forward himself.

The first to speak was Luceius. Under the watchful eyes of the assembled senators, he delivered his inaugural address with a trembling voice.

"As your consul, I shall always make choices to defend the Republic at every turn..."

Lucceius’s speech was, to put it mildly, a monument to boredom.

Cicero and the rest of the senators let his words go in one ear and out the other.

The man they truly cared about was Caesar.

When Lucceius, sweating visibly, finally concluded his speech, the next man stepped to the center of the hall.

Before beginning his address, Caesar slowly surveyed the gathered senators. As always, confidence radiated from his expression.

"My esteemed fellow senators, I imagine many of you owe me a favor."

A low groan rippled through the hall at Caesar’s words.

Just as he said, there were more than a few senators who had avoided total ruin thanks to him. This was especially true of those involved in moneylending and banking, including Metellus.

"However, today, before this sacred temple and the gods, I swear: for the duration of my term as consul, I will not call in those debts."

A loud murmur spread among the assembled senators.

"Is he serious?"

"It’s probably just empty rhetoric."

"But he swore it before the gods themselves."

It was a common platitude among Roman politicians to claim they would not call in favors. It was a customary remark, devoid of any real meaning or sincerity.

But swearing it publicly before the gods and the entire Senate was an entirely different matter.

"What eagle binds its own wings before striking its prey?"

"It might, if the prey is already in its talons," Cicero added in a cynical tone.

Saying he would not demand repayment sounded like an act of mercy at first glance. But Cicero knew the truth.

The heaviest debt in the world was the one you were never given the chance to repay.

He watched Caesar flash a confident smile.

"All of you have surely heard of the policies my fellow consul, Lucceius, and I have pledged to enact. The One-Year Plan we intend to carry out will tear out the deep-rooted corruption, inefficiency, and stagnation that have plagued this Republic for far too long."

"And above all else, it will elevate the name of Caesar, will it not?!" an elderly senator demanded loudly.

Caesar simply nodded.

"Yes. If Rome rises, my name will rise with it. However, Consul Luceius and I cannot execute all these policies on our own." Caesar spread his arms wide and continued. "I need the assistance of the Senate. The funds required to carry out these policies have already been secured. My son, Lucius, and even Senators Pompey and Crassus have pledged both their support and their resources."

At his gesture, Pompey and Crassus, seated among the senators, nodded in agreement. It was rare to see both men attend a Senate meeting at the same time.

"Furthermore, there are the revenues the temples have collected from public notices and sponsorships."

"You cannot use those funds without the Senate’s approval!"

"Which is exactly why I am seeking that approval right now."

Despite the continuing objections from a few senators, Caesar looked thoroughly amused.

"Over the coming weeks, I plan to establish committees to oversee the execution of these policies," Caesar said. "Any senator who wishes to advise, criticize, or oversee these efforts will be welcome."

Watching him, Cicero involuntarily clenched his fists.

There was only one reason Caesar would make such an offer. He was trying to lure as many senators as possible into his One-Year Plan.

Already, quite a few senators were exchanging knowing glances and whispering to each other.

"If it’s harbor improvements... doesn’t your family own land in Ostia?"

"A committee for temple public works... That would grant considerable authority to senators who hold priesthoods."

"Managing the collegia is risky, but if handled well, we could keep the mob in check."

Observing the shifting tide, Cicero muttered under his breath.

"I have to oppose this somehow."

To reestablish his presence, he had to step forward right now. He had already secured Caesar’s consent in advance.

Even if he launched a blistering critique, Caesar would not take it as a personal attack.

But where should he strike?

It was impossible to go through and criticize a hundred policies one by one. Nor could he fault Caesar for seeking the Senate’s cooperation; that was exactly what a consul was supposed to do.

In that case...

Cicero quickly settled on a strategy. His mind had been honed by decades of cutthroat politics.

He was not one to be intimidated by a situation like this. It wasn’t just Cicero; a few other senators were also preparing to challenge Caesar.

But just then—

As if he had suddenly remembered something, Caesar turned back to the Senate and spoke again.

"Ah, I almost forgot to mention this. There is one proposal I wish to place before you at the very start of my consulship."

As the hall fell silent to listen, Caesar continued.

"Until now, the Senate has released records of its proceedings to the public only irregularly. From this day forward, I propose that the proceedings of the Senate be made public in full."

"Make the proceedings public? That is..."

"No matter how brilliant a decision the Senate makes, if the citizens of Rome do not know of it, that decision breeds suspicion. Even if we deliberate for the good of the Republic, if the citizens in the Forum cannot hear our words, they will assume it is a conspiracy," Caesar declared.

"If our cause is just, we have nothing to be ashamed of when the citizens hear us. If we speak for the good of Rome, no harm will come from the citizens knowing our minds. If we uphold the law and tradition, the records will not be a sword that strikes us, but a shield that protects us."

Cicero realized his hands were trembling uncontrollably. Publishing the proceedings of the Senate for the masses to read?

That meant word of every debate would spread everywhere—from Rome’s common plebeians to citizens in the municipalities across Italy—within a single day.

And the architect of this terrifying new world was none other than Caesar’s son.

Ever since Lucius built the signal towers, news now traveled across Rome with terrifying speed.

Knowing that their every word would be reported directly to the people, the senators would be forced to guard every word and every gesture.

"Do you intend to turn the Senate into a stage for the mob?"

Caesar smiled warmly at a senator’s sharp question.

"No. Quite the contrary. Authority does not grow in the shadows. Authority is strengthened, not weakened, when it stands in the light. I believe this will not undermine the authority of the Senate, but rather restore it."

In the silence that followed, Caesar’s voice echoed through the chamber.

"Are there any objections?"

At last, Cicero forced himself to stand.

"The public records must preserve not only the speeches in favor, but also those against. If we are to reveal the truth to the citizens, must we not present the arguments of both sides?"

"Of course, Senator. You have said precisely what I wished to say," Caesar replied, looking at Cicero with a bright smile.

"Then please, Senator, let us hear the rest of your thoughts."

Thus began the uneasy partnership between the Pater Patriae, the Father of the Fatherland, and the consul of Rome—an alliance forged not in trust, but in necessity.