Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

January 10, 220 AD, Fundus Ferratus, Gallia.

With the ranks of the *Custodes* swelling to eight hundred soldiers, Lucius mandated a formal integration of his military.

In the courtyard of the *Castra Umbra*, every recruit was required to step forward and swear a blood oath.

Under pain of crucifixion, they pledged their loyalty to the Forge, to the House of Cassius, and to the syndicate.

To ensure the recruits did not harbor spies or dissenting thoughts, Valerius fractured their ranks.

He seeded his veterans into every contubernium. This ensured that the loyalty of the army remained unbreakable.

Lucius formally integrated the fifty Gothic cavalrymen under Amalric’s command into a vanguard unit.

The expense of feeding and arming heavy cavalry was astronomical compared to infantry, but Lucius paid the silver.

Mobility and flanking power were essential components of his tactical doctrine.

Within a few months, the drilling overseen by Wulfric would transform this collection of men into a mechanized killing force that dwarfed any militia in the Roman Empire.

But maintaining an army required an endless river of capital...

Every night, Decimus and the forge churned out spearheads and the Dacian-style *falxes* bound for the forests of Germania.

But sitting in the subterranean warehouse, collecting dust, were five hundred Roman *spathas*. This was the first batch of weapons Lucius had ordered, before he realized selling Roman designs to the barbarians would expose his treason.

He could not sell them to the Goths, and he could not arm his *Custodes* with them... his men utilized the pike and the ballista. The spathas were obsolete to his formations.

Yet, they were the finest cavalry swords on the planet.

Lucius refused to let capital rot in a cellar. He decided he would sell them to the entity that was hunting the "barbarian horde" that had slaughtered Tribune Gaius: the Roman military itself.

Lucius drafted a discreet letter on his cellulose paper and sent it to Civitas Aurelia.

He addressed it to Prefect Fabius... the quartermaster of the Third Legion, and the father of his friend Quintus.

Fabius was a desperate man.

The annihilation of Tribune Gaius’s cohorts in the gorge had sent shockwaves through the command.

Believing an Alemanni army had crossed the Rhine, the Legate was screaming for recruits to be armed.

When Fabius received a quiet offer from the Forge Master claiming to possess a surplus of weaponry, the Prefect rode for Fundus Ferratus with haste.

Lucius and Prefect Fabius were standing in the subterranean armory. The Roman noble was flanked by two armorers from the legion’s quartermaster corps.

Fabius was not a man who trusted easily. He eyed the crates with suspicion.

He could not fathom why a patrician sitting on an isolated estate would surrender five hundred weapons during a time of border panic.

"So, Lucius," Fabius began. "Why are you selling this volume of steel? The province is terrified of these phantom Alemanni raiders, yet you are emptying your armory. Do your guards not need blades?"

Lucius let out a rehearsed laugh. "The construction requires liquid capital that my timber sales cannot cover. I figured my estate guards did not need expensive steel to chase off local bandits. I am outfitting them with ash-wood spears instead. They are cheaper."

Fabius did not blink at the excuse.

It sounded reasonable for a patrician to prioritize a paper monopoly over military defense...

The two armorers stepped forward, prying the lid off the nearest crate.

They pulled out one of the oil-wrapped spathas. The armorer wiped the blade clean and raised it to the torchlight. He swung it against the iron rim of a shield rack.

The armorer’s eyes widened. He ran his thumb along the edge of the spatha; there was not a single notch or chip.

The was lighter, denser, and superior to the brittle slag the local blacksmith guilds had been overcharging the legion for.

Seeing the confirmation from his experts, Fabius’s merchant instincts took over.

The quartermaster stepped up to Lucius, ready to haggle.

"If my men confirm the quality of the batch, I would be willing to take these off your hands," Fabius said. "However, since this is a private surplus and not a guild-sanctioned contract, I cannot offer you the imperial premium."

Considering that the swords of the province were selling for thirty-five silver denarii, the value of Lucius’s steel was double that.

But Fabius intended to bleed the patrician...

"I will give you forty silver denarii per blade," Fabius offered, crossing his arms.

Lucius kept his expression pleasant, preparing to wring every ounce of silver from the quartermaster.

"Seventy," Lucius countered.

Fabius scowled. "Be reasonable, boy! Fifty denarii, and not a copper coin more!"

Lucius shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. He leaned against the crate, at ease.

"Sixty denarii, Prefect. And I will cover the transport costs to your encampment myself," Lucius said. "If you find that price unpalatable, I am certain the Legate of the Rhine frontier would pay seventy to properly arm his border cohorts. He has been vocal about the inferior weapons your department supplies him."

Lucius had struck a nerve. Fabius knew that the frontier commanders despised him for buying cheap guild iron and pocketing the difference.

If Lucius bypassed him and sold these weapons directly to the Rhine Legate, Fabius’s corruption would be exposed, and he would be stripped of his rank!

Fabius’s face flushed.

"Curse your merchant blood, Lucius," Fabius spat. "Fine! Sixty denarii per blade. I accept your terms."

Though they shook hands to seal the contract, Fabius was secretly laughing within the confines of his mind.

Fabius had no way of knowing that the weapons he had purchased were considered obsolete by the man standing in front of him.

Lucius smiled, aware of the disdain hiding behind the quartermaster’s eyes.

He could not wait to see the look on the Roman military’s face when their infantry, armed with these swords, attempted to charge a wall of twenty-foot pikes while being shredded by ballista fire.

With a handshake, Lucius had entered the Roman arms trade, securing a profit of thirty thousand silver denarii.

He would use this influx of capital to expand his industrial complex, funding the creation of siege engines and armor.

And when the Roman legions realized that the steel swords they had bought were useless against the horrors of Fundus Ferratus, it would be too late to ask for a refund...

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!