Chapter 195 : Only Forward

"You want me to command your cavalry—as your praefectus equitum?"

"Yes. Who else could be better suited for the task?"

Pompey nodded firmly.

Praefectus equitum, huh?

I certainly didn’t expect him to make such an offer out of nowhere.

"However, I am much younger than the other commanders, and I lack military experience."

"Yet you suppressed banditry across Italy. And you led the cavalry to victory in the Nova Troia Games."

"Those were only mock battles."

"Yet during that time, I personally watched you drill the young nobles out on the plains day in and day out," Pompey said.

"You are more than qualified. Truth be told, I would appoint you as my legatus this instant if I had my way... but it is true that you lack formal command experience for that."

"So you intend to give me command of an independent cavalry force first, to test my mettle."

A legatus was a senior officer entrusted by the supreme commander with command of a legion or an independent detachment.

Yet the post of praefectus equitum that Pompey was offering me was no less extraordinary.

"Gain experience commanding a cavalry force on this campaign. Once you prove your capabilities on the field, who in Rome could possibly object to appointing you as a legatus?"

"An independent cavalry command already seems overly generous."

I replied with a wry smile. However, I had no desire to receive special treatment merely because I was the supreme commander’s son-in-law.

"Then I shall do everything in my power as your praefectus equitum. I will not tarnish the name of Magnus."

"Lucius, I am not making this offer simply because you are my son-in-law."

Pompey clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

Standing side by side on the Campus Martius, we gazed out across the sprawling field where drills were in full swing.

"I am offering you this post because you are Lucius Caesar. No one else would do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"They should be arriving right about now... Ah, there they are."

He raised a finger, pointing toward the edge of the plain.

Turning my head, I saw a large company of mounted men trotting toward us.

Every face among them was familiar.

Brutus, Mark Antony—even young Metellus was among them.

Among them were comrades who had served under my command during the Troy Games, as well as men who had fought on the opposing Greek side.

They approached amid a chorus of shouts, laughter, and boisterous banter.

"Every single one of them wishes to serve under your command," Pompey said. "Under these circumstances, how could I possibly appoint anyone else as my praefectus equitum?"

A soft chuckle was my only answer.

I never imagined so many young nobles and scions of the equestrian order would gather like this.

Well, ever since tales of the bandit campaign had spread throughout Italy, interest in cavalry service had surged dramatically.

Especially after Antony showed off his dazzling cowboy-style riding skills right in the heart of Rome.

Yet it wasn’t just familiar Roman faces in the crowd. Some of the foreigners looked strangely familiar as well.

Don’t tell me...

"Are those... Athenians and Spartans?"

What on earth were they doing here?

***

The reason the Greek delegations from cities such as Athens and Sparta had attended the Religious Council was exceedingly simple.

"There is no denying thatRome is the greatest power of our age. Rather than sail headlong into a great wave, must not a ship ride it to survive? Perhaps by riding the wave, we might sail even further."

Once several poleis took the lead and dispatched envoys, the remaining cities scrambled to join, driven by a growing sense of urgency.

"The Romans have embraced our Greek gods. If we participate in this council, we can reinforce the idea that Greeks and Romans share the same roots. That will naturally improve how we are treated."

As this sentiment spread, virtually every Greek polis joined the council.

However, Greece was a land where rivalry among city-states was fiercer than anywhere else on earth.

"How can we win the favor of Caesar—and, beyond him, the rest of Rome’s leaders?"

They began by permitting Caesar to establish branches of his enterprises within their poleis.

Yet that was a concession any polis could easily make.

"We Spartans cannot simply grovel and offer gold, can we?"

"Indeed. Merely offering coin makes us no different from any ordinary polis."

The solution they settled on was simple: join the coming campaign in Gaul, rumors of which were already spreading everywhere.

In other words, they decided to contribute military contingents, just like the Italian cities.

And among all troop types, cavalry was the premier choice—offering the greatest prestige and political goodwill for the smallest number of men.

"We Spartans must strike first! We cannot fall behind the other poleis!"

"Those damned Spartans are plotting something. If Athens sits idly by..."

Athens stepped forward to preserve its political and cultural prestige; Sparta and Thessaly sought to revive their fading martial glory; and smaller poleis scrambled simply to curry favor with Rome.

Amidst this silent, cutthroat competition, each polis volunteered contingents of anywhere from a dozen to several dozen noble youths to serve as cavalrymen.

***

"On top of that, the Italian cities have dispatched their own horsemen. The very troops you commanded when you wiped out the bandits."

"Adding them all together... that’s nearly a thousand cavalrymen."

I muttered to myself. An absurd, staggering number.

In the Roman military of this era, traditional Roman citizen cavalry had all but disappeared.

The vast majority of Rome’s cavalry was now made up of auxiliaries recruited from provincial and allied peoples, such as Gauls, Iberians, and Numidians.

To assemble an elite cavalry force of nearly a thousand men drawn entirely from young nobles and members of the equestrian order from Italy and Greece.

"Every one of them harbors their own motives. Some came out of civic duty, while others came seeking glory. Many wish to enhance the prestige of their polis or noble house. Yet they have all rallied around you, Lucius," Pompey said. "You will be in charge of drilling them until we march for Gaul. Standardizing their equipment and reconciling their different tactical doctrines will be quite the headache. Once my imperium is formally ratified, even more poleis have pledged to send troops."

"It will be a grueling task... but I shall do my absolute best."

I gestured toward the young men cheering enthusiastically before us.

It felt like the coming months were going to be remarkably long.

"However, the question of command over Gaul remains unresolved. Unless an outright crisis erupts in Gaul first, the Senate will never act in a timely manner..."

My voice trailed off. Persuading the Senate to commit state resources to black powder production had been surprisingly easy.

Yet granting Pompey command over all of Gaul was taking far longer than anticipated.

Gaul was partitioned into several distinct administrative zones; to conduct a unified campaign, a single imperium extending across all these territories would be essential.

Yet Romans had a deep-seated fear of granting sweeping military authority to any single individual.

"The Senate and the popular assembly did not grant me extraordinary imperium to clear the seas of pirates until the port of Ostia had been put to the torch," Pompey snorted derisively. "The Senate has a chronic habit of never moving until their own asses catch fire. We have the Public Assembly on our side anyway, don’t we?"

"That is true. Still, there might be another way."

I considered the problem. Only a select group of senior statesmen had been allowed to witness the gunpowder demonstration.

Those who witnessed the explosion with their own eyes unanimously agreed on the necessity of the Gallic expedition.

If the Gauls possessed such a terrifying weapon, Rome had to crush them swiftly to ensure its own survival.

Yet the other senators remained oblivious to the true severity of the situation. Hearing a description was worlds apart from witnessing the devastation firsthand.

Should we stage a larger, public demonstration?

Yet if word leaked to the Gauls that Rome had acquired black powder, there was no telling how events might spiral from there.

Or perhaps they had already figured it out by watching us gather raw materials.

Was someone with knowledge of the future truly pulling strings in Gaul? It was safest to operate under that assumption.

Which meant there was no guarantee events would unfold as they had in the original timeline.

"Even if you are not granted imperium immediately, there is a way we can prepare in advance."

"Prepare in advance? How?"

"Why not dispatch an advance force to Gallia Cisalpina? That way, we can respond immediately if a crisis erupts."

"Buying time until I arrive with the main legions, you mean."

"Precisely. We can recruit local auxiliaries on the frontier in advance. I will ask Father to grant official authorization under the guise of an investigative commission tasked with surveying military roads and reinforcing signal towers."

I nodded firmly.

I will take the cavalry ahead of you, drill them on the northern frontier, and recruit additional legions."

"I assumed you would remain in Rome until the campaign officially commenced," Pompey said, pleasantly surprised.

"Is it truly wise for you to depart in person? I heard you have an endless list of duties to oversee here in Rome."

"I trust my people. Besides, I can easily issue directives via the signal towers."

Pompeia, Felix, the Strategy Office, and countless capable managers.

I no longer had to worry that my enterprises would collapse simply because I wasn’t physically present.

Though, to be honest, there was another pressing reason.

"Father has been working me far too hard lately. At this rate, I’ll be worked to death before I even set foot in Gaul."

"Cracking the whip? Do you fancy yourself some sort of slave?"

"Father certainly seems to view me as one."

I chuckled as I replied. The Religious Council was already well on its way to success.

The place I needed to be was no longer here in Rome.

"I shall ensure all necessary preparations are completed on the Gallic frontier."

***

East of Lake Lemannus, the lake that would one day be known as Lake Geneva, lay the homeland of the Helvetii.

It was the cradle where they had lived, farmed, and flourished for generations.

Yet the Helvetii were beginning to feel that their homeland had become far too small.

Their population swelled relentlessly, while rugged mountain ranges and treacherous rivers hemmed them in on all sides.

Above all, they resented the thought that their warriors were confined to a territory far too small for their martial renown.

Ultimately, the Helvetii reached a fateful decision.

Westward.

Their entire tribe would relocate to the fertile, boundless plains of western Gaul.

For years, they had stockpiled livestock, wagons, and grain in preparation for the great migration.

And at this very moment, the wheels of destiny were finally set in motion.

"Orgetorix! What in the name of the gods is the meaning of this?!"

A silver-haired elder shouted, striking the tip of his scabbard against the ground.

His name was Divico—a veteran of a hundred bloody battles and one of the most revered and influential elders of the Helvetii.

"There are still months to go before our preparations are supposed to be complete! How could you do something so reckless without consulting the council of elders?!"

"Divico, have I not explained this to you already?" Orgetorix turned around, his eyes cold and unwavering.

"Everything has changed. Now that the Roman dogs are mobilizing, we must strike first."

"Yet our food stores are far from sufficient! You know better than anyone that the harvest is still months away! If we stick to the planned schedule..."

"The Roman swine will have completed their preparations, and we will march blindly to our slaughter."

Orgetorix jabbed a finger into Divico’s chest.

"I expected you of all people to understand, Divico—the legendary warrior who once crushed Roman legions beneath his heel."

"We are not ready! The other elders share my dread. Rumors are spreading that accelerating this migration serves not the survival of our people, but your own twisted ambitions, Orgetorix!"

"Such petty rumors always circulate."

"If you harbor such treacherous ambitions, we Tigurini will step forward and..."

"The ashes of fire belong to me alone, Divico. Not the Tigurini, but me."

Orgetorix turned his back on the old veteran, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

"Once we crush Rome beneath our heel, we will never have to worry about food again."

Before him, a colossal sea of fire swept across the valley.

Tens of thousands of Helvetii were setting their own homes, storehouses, and ancestral fields ablaze.

They were burning their homeland to ash, ruthlessly severing the last traces of hesitation among those who feared the migration.

Now, the only path left for them was forward.

There was no turning back.

There was no home to return to.

If anyone dared block their path, they would simply cut them down.

Even if that obstacle was the mighty Roman Republic.

Watching the inferno devour the horizon, Orgetorix murmured into the rising smoke.

"We shall never have to worry about anything ever again."