Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

February 15, 221 AD, Massilia, Gallia Narbonensis.

Demetrios, the Greek shipping magnate, had arrived at the city two days ago.

He had spent the first twenty-four hours negotiating with the harbor masters to divert the next three fleets of sulfur away from the imperial ports and toward the Rhone river.

It was a dangerous maneuver, but the profit margin of Lucius’s arbalests made the risk of crucifixion palatable...

Currently, Demetrios was walking along the terrace overlooking the harbor. Walking beside him was Governor Valerius Gratus... a cousin of the Emperor and a man whose ambition was matched by his arrogance.

Unbeknownst to the two men, a third person was occupying the terrace gardens.

Valeria, the Governor’s youngest daughter, was sitting beneath the shade of an olive tree. For nineteen years, Valeria had been trapped in the cage of patrician society.

She was educated in Greek philosophy, mathematics, and rhetoric, but her father viewed her as a pawn waiting to be traded to a rival Senator to secure an alliance.

Currently, Valeria was feeding almonds to a peacock that roamed the gardens.

"Oh, Jupiter," Valeria murmured, scratching the bird beneath its chin. "You are the only creature in this palace who isn’t trying to sell me to a sweaty, fifty-year-old Senator in Rome. I swear, if my father brings up the alliance with the Claudian house one more time, I will throw myself off this balcony."

The peacock let out a squawk, snatched the last almond from her palm, and strutted away.

Valeria sighed, wiping the dust from her *stola*. As she prepared to retreat to the library to escape her boredom, she caught the timber of her father’s voice drifting through the olive branches.

"So tell me, Demetrios," Governor Gratus demanded. "Did you secure the weapons from that upstart engineer in the north? Or did you waste a week drinking sour wine in the mud?"

Demetrios chuckled, a sound full of certainty.

"I secured them, Governor," the Greek magnate confirmed. "And I assure you, calling him an ’upstart’ is a miscalculation. The arbalests I procured are unlike anything the armories have ever produced. They possess the force to shear through chainmail at fifty paces."

Governor Gratus halted his pacing, crossing his arms with a look of satisfaction.

"Excellent," Gratus nodded. "The legions fighting the Persians in the east are desperate for armor-piercing artillery. I will have the smiths disassemble these ’arbalests’ and reverse-engineer the springs. Until then, Demetrios, I want you to buy every weapon this Cassius boy produces. Drain his stockpiles."

Demetrios offered a bow. "I will do my best, Governor. But the Forge Master is not a man who can be easily drained."

Valeria, hidden behind the foliage of the olive tree, perked up. She had expected to overhear another mundane discussion about grain tariffs or olive oil exports.

But weapons capable of shearing through chainmail?

A mysterious ’Forge Master’ in the north? Her boredom evaporated, replaced by a curiosity.

"Tell me the truth, Demetrios," Gratus continued. "The Senate is receiving conflicting reports. Is it true that this Lucius Cassius has monopolized the economy of central Gaul? They say he commands a militia of runaway slaves."

Demetrios let out a breath. He looked out over the waters of the Mediterranean, his mind flashing back to the slaughter he had witnessed on the *Campus Martius*.

"Governor Gratus, the reports you are hearing are understating the reality," Demetrios said. "Lucius Cassius is barely twenty years old. Yet, he has dismantled the patrician hierarchy in his territory. From what I observed, Cassius has abandoned Roman economics and replaced it with industry."

Valeria’s eyes widened. She leaned closer to the olive branches, her heart beating a little faster.

A twenty-year-old patrician who had seized a province and held a Roman Governor hostage?

It sounded like the plot of a Greek tragedy...

Gratus scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "He is an arrogant boy playing with mercenaries. The moment he steps out of line, Legate Rufinus will march the legions south and crucify him. No private citizen can withstand the might of Rome."

Demetrios turned to the Governor, a humorless expression on his face.

"Legate Rufinus already marched south, Governor," Demetrios revealed. "He sent his Tribune, Quintus Fabius, with ten thousand infantry to burn the Forge. Lucius Cassius met them in the open field... and he annihilated them."

Gratus recoiled, the color draining from his face. "That is impossible."

"It is the truth," Demetrios stated. "He used artillery and explosives that I cannot begin to describe. The weapons I sold you are the scraps he was willing to part with. If Rufinus marches the rest of his legions south, Cassius will crush them just as easily. Give that boy two years to scale, Governor, and he will not stop at Gaul. Mark my words. Lucius Cassius is going to tear the Roman Empire down to its foundations and build something terrifying in its place."

Behind the olive tree, Valeria pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

Her mind was racing. She had spent her life surrounded by the politicians of Rome... men who hoarded wealth, debated philosophy, and fought wars over borders that hadn’t moved in a century.

But this Lucius Cassius? He wasn’t playing the Senate’s games. In the span of a conversation, the Forge Master had transformed in Valeria’s mind from a faceless rebel into a conqueror.

For the first time in her life, she had found a man whose ambition matched the scale of her own intellect. She had no desire to marry the fat, balding Senator her father had chosen for her. She wanted to meet the man who was burning the empire down.

She slumped back against the trunk of the olive tree, glaring at the path where the peacock had vanished. "Useless bird," she muttered under her breath. "You get to wander the city, and I am stuck listening to old men talk about a world they are about to lose."

On the terrace, Governor Gratus and Demetrios had moved on from the implications of Lucius’s supremacy. The Governor, unwilling to accept the reality of the threat, shifted the conversation back to the concerns of outfitting his guards with the new arbalests.

Gratus had no idea that his daughter had eavesdropped on the intelligence briefing of the decade.

If the Governor knew that Valeria had developed a fascination with the most dangerous rebel in the empire, he would have locked her in a tower.

Instead, the two men continued to stroll down the terrace, discussing the shifting tides of the Mediterranean trade routes...

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