Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

January 1, 221 AD, Civitas Aurelia, Gallia.

Nearly a week had passed since the subjugation of Civitas Aurelia. The gates had remained open, the rioting plebeians had been pacified by a distribution of the Guilds’ grain, and Governor Marcellus had surrendered his sword the moment the Forge Master’s boots touched the floors of the praetorium.

In the days since, Lucius had established a secondary sector on the outskirts of the capital.

This new workshop was not dedicated to Kallias’s chemical explosives or the torsion-repeaters.

Instead, it was an assembly line for the Syndicate’s first major export product: the arbalest.

Standing on a cleared expanse of the city’s outer *Campus Martius*, Lucius observed a live-fire demonstration of his new merchandise.

Standing beside him was Demetrios of Massilia, a Greek shipping magnate who controlled a fleet of merchant galleys operating across the Mediterranean.

In the center of the training field, fifty paces away, stood a line of stakes draped in chainmail and overlapping *scuta* shields.

A squad of *Custodes* stepped forward, demonstrating the loading process. They placed a foot in the stirrup at the front of the arbalests and used crank-winches to pull the bowstrings back until they locked into the trigger mechanisms. The process required physical exertion and took nearly thirty seconds per man.

Demetrios, stroking his oiled beard, watched the winching process with a critical eye.

"The lethality is promising, Forge Master," the Greek merchant noted. "But the firing cycle is slow. In the time it takes a man to crank that gear, a charge of Numidian cavalry would be upon him, cutting him to pieces. How do you justify deploying this on an open field?"

Lucius offered a smile. He had no intention of selling his pike doctrine, but he was happy to explain basic combined-arms tactics to a buyer.

"You do not field arbalest crews as an independent vanguard," Lucius explained, gesturing toward the soldiers. "You place a wall of spearmen holding large shields in front of the firing line. The spearmen absorb the cavalry charge and provide a barricade while the arbalestiers wind their cranks in safety. When the bolts are loaded, the shield wall drops for a second, the volley is unleashed, and the wall closes again."

Demetrios’s eyes widened.

"Fascinating," Demetrios murmured.

At the end of the field, the *Custodes* officer raised a flag. "Loose!"

The quarrels vanished across the expanse. The impact was devastating...

The bolts shattered the shields, punched through the chainmail, and buried themselves into the posts behind the armor!

Lucius had designed this export variant with a shorter draw length than his own weapons.

The reduced velocity ensured that while the arbalests could slaughter legionaries or raiders, they lacked the energy required to penetrate the Syndicate’s scale armor.

"Let us examine the yield," Lucius offered, guiding the Greek magnate across the grass toward the targets.

Demetrios ran his fingers over the shredded rings of the chainmail, mesmerized by the destruction. The composite bows used by the eastern empires required a lifetime of training and lacked half this power. This weapon could turn a peasant into a sniper in an afternoon!

"I have seen enough," Demetrios declared, turning to Lucius. "I want exclusive maritime distribution rights for the Mediterranean. The Legates fighting in the east will empty their treasuries to outfit their auxiliaries with these. What is your price, Cassius?"

Lucius clasped his hands behind his back, adopting the demeanor of a negotiator.

"The market rate for a weapon utilizing spring-steel of this purity is four hundred silver denarii per unit," Lucius stated. "However, I will reduce the price by thirty percent, provided we come to a separate arrangement."

Demetrios narrowed his eyes, suspicious but too greedy to walk away. "And what arrangement does the Forge Master require?"

"Your fleets make regular runs to Sicily and Alexandria," Lucius said. "I require priority shipments of unrefined sulfur and Egyptian natron. Massive quantities. You will bypass the taxation ports and deliver the minerals to my docks on the Rhone. Do this, and the discounted arbalests are yours."

The Greek merchant’s mind raced. Sulfur and natron were cheap commodities used in medicine, cleaning, and metallurgy.

He had no idea that Lucius needed them to mass-produce the nitro-compounds that fueled Kallias’s artillery...

To Demetrios, this sounded like the most lopsided trade agreement in history!

"You have a deal, Forge Master," Demetrios laughed, grasping Lucius’s forearm. "I will have the first fleet of sulfur diverted to your docks before the month ends."

Lucius smiled, shaking the man’s hand.

"Excellent," Lucius said. "Now that our business is concluded, the sun is beginning to set. I insist you join me for the evening meal in the praetorium. We have much to celebrate."

Demetrios accepted.

Hours later, the dining hall of the Governor’s palace was illuminated by oil lamps.

Lucius sat at the head of the mahogany table. To his right sat Isolda, wearing a gown of crimson silk. To Lucius’s left sat Demetrios, tearing into a plate of roasted boar.

At the far end of the table sat Governor Marcellus...

The former ruler of Gaul looked wretched.

He had been stripped of his military authority, his guards had been replaced by *Custodes*, and his intelligence network had been assassinated by Isolda’s operatives.

Lucius had kept him alive to serve as a bureaucratic puppet; Marcellus was forced to seal documents and issue decrees that maintained the illusion of Roman governance, preventing the Senate from realizing that a private corporation had conquered a province.

Marcellus stared at his untouched food, radiating a silent fury. Lucius and Isolda ignored him, treating the man as if he were a piece of furniture.

Demetrios wiped grease from his beard and leaned forward, eager to probe the mind of the man who had upended the geopolitical landscape of the west.

"So, Lucius," the Greek magnate began, swirling his watered wine. "You have routed a legion, pacified a capital, and secured the trade routes. What is your design for the coming year?"

"..." Lucius sighed, taking a sip of his wine. "The infrastructure of this city is inefficient. We must rebuild the warehouse districts my operatives were forced to demolish. I intend to lay down iron rail-lines from the deep mines to the river ports, bypassing the need for draft animals. The next few years will be dedicated to aggressive industrialization."

Demetrios raised an eyebrow, surprised by the mundane nature of the answer... He had expected the conqueror to declare a march on Rome itself!

"..."

"But you cannot ignore the reality. The patricians of this province despise you for abolishing their slave labor. And Legate Rufinus will not forgive the annihilation of his vanguard. Do you not fear a coordinated rebellion? Or an overwhelming imperial retaliation?" Demetrios conceded.

At the far end of the table, Marcellus’s eyes flicked up, a glimmer of hope shining in the former Governor’s gaze.

Lucius set his goblet down on the table. He offered a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Fear it?" Lucius repeated. "The traditionalists of this empire are hoarding wealth, stifling innovation, and clinging to a broken social hierarchy. I know they are plotting in the shadows. But I welcome their treason. When the patricians draw their daggers and Rufinus marches his legions south, they will give me the legal and moral justification to rip their bloodlines out by the roots."

Isolda offered a smile, her eyes cutting down the length of the table to lock onto Governor Marcellus.

Demetrios swallowed.

The Greek merchant decided it was best to stop asking questions and focus on his roasted boar...

At the end of the table, Governor Marcellus looked as though he were going to be ill.

The puppet ruler understood that he was trapped in a nightmare, and the monster holding his leash was waiting for an excuse to unleash hell.

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