Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

By the time Titus tracked down his wayward passenger, two hours had slipped away in the praetorium’s dining hall.

Surrounded by fluted colonnades and crackling bronze braziers, Valeria had spent the afternoon completely enthralled.

The stranger from the docks had drawn a detailed schematic of a steam-driven piston on a wax tablet, dissecting mechanics and atmospheric pressure with a brilliance that left her breathless.

She had assumed he was merely a senior artisan... until the hall doors banged open.

A detachment of armed Custodes shoved a sweating Titus into the chamber.

The smuggler took one look at the man sitting with a cup of watered wine, dropped to his knees on the floor, and pressed his forehead against the stone.

"Mercy, Dominus Cassius!" Titus stammered, his voice shrill with terror. "I swear by the gods, I did not authorize this breach of your fortress!"

Valeria froze. The stylus slipped from her fingers.

Her gaze snapped toward the stranger across from her. The unbothered posture, the quietly observant eyes, the authority radiating beneath his simple tunic...

The stranger had not just arranged a tour of the praetorium.

She had spent the last two hours bantering about Archimedes with the Forge Master himself.

Before Valeria could process the shock racing down her spine, Titus scrambled half upright, his eyes darting toward her in panic.

"Valeria... by the gods, what have you done?!" Titus blurted out, before catching himself with a choked gasp, his face turning paper-white. "L-Livia! I mean... Livia!"

Lucius didn’t blink. He set his goblet down, his eyes narrowing as he registered both the smuggler’s groveling and the slip of the tongue. A smile curved his lips.

"Titus of Massilia, I presume?" Lucius asked softly, leaning back against his chair and gesturing to the empty seat opposite them. "Your associate was just telling me about your logistical operations at the harbor. Please, sit. It seems we all have quite a few truths to untangle."

Titus swallowed hard. He looked at Valeria, who offered a grimace, before taking the seat. A servant appeared from the shadows, pouring the smuggler a cup of wine.

Lucius leaned back, crossing his arms and fixing Titus with a stare.

"Livia tells me you are the captain of the galley moored at pier four," Lucius began. "What exactly is your relationship to her?"

Titus took a gulp of his wine to steady his nerves. He had no idea what Valeria had told the warlord, so he fell back on a half-truth.

"I am a contracted merchant, Dominus," Titus lied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Livia’s family hired me to transport her north. She was eager to see your factories, and I provided the hull."

Lucius offered a smile. He saw through the smuggler’s sweat. "I see. And what precisely are you hoping to trade with my Syndicate?"

Titus, recognizing a lifeline when he saw one, leaned forward, the greed of a harbor rat overriding his terror.

"I heard rumors in the south," Titus said, lowering his voice. "The word in the merchant guilds is that you are paying pure silver for shipments of sulfur. I have a galley, a crew, and I know the patrol routes better than anyone in Massilia. I can smuggle your sulfur past the blockades, and I want forty percent of the silver payout in return."

Lucius let out a laugh. "Forty percent? You must think me generous, Titus. I am outfitting a fleet that will render blockades irrelevant. I do not need a smuggler’s galley to break a line I intend to sink."

Titus did not flinch. "You may not need me in a month, Dominus, but you need me today. If you want to bypass the harbor tariffs in Massilia and avoid drawing the Legate’s attention to your supply lines, you need a man who knows how to bribe the port authorities. My galley moves faster than bureaucracy. I can have a load of sulfur here in two weeks."

Lucius considered the proposal. The man was arrogant, but he wasn’t wrong...

Until the ironclads were operational, keeping the supply lines off the Senate ledgers was crucial.

"You make a valid point," Lucius conceded, picking up his stylus. "However, forty percent is absurd. I am the sole purchaser in this province. You will take twenty percent of the silver, and you will consider yourself fortunate I do not commandeer your vessel for my fleet."

Titus grimaced. The profit margin was slashed, but securing a contract with the Syndicate was worth a fortune.

He gritted his teeth and nodded. "Twenty-five percent, Dominus. I still have to pay the harbor masters to look the other way when I dock in the south."

"Agreed," Lucius said, setting the stylus down. "We will have Aulus draft the contract. But since we are negotiating favors, Titus... I have a counter-proposal regarding your passenger."

Titus froze. He glanced at Valeria, who looked tense.

"The young lady claims she is fleeing an arrangement in the south," Lucius continued, his eyes locking onto the smuggler. "She possesses an intellect that would be wasted on whatever dispute she is running from. I am willing to offer her sanctuary within the praetorium. She can remain here, under my protection, serving as your liaison while you run the coastal routes."

Valeria’s heart hammered out of her chest. This was what she wanted... sanctuary in the heart of the revolution, a chance to escape her father’s political machinery.

Titus, however, looked as if he was going to be sick.

He knew the truth.

He knew the girl sitting across from the Forge Master was not a merchant’s daughter, but the political asset of Governor Gratus. Leaving a Governor’s daughter in the hands of a rebel was a way to incite an imperial manhunt.

"Dominus," Titus stammered, wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead. "I... I do not think that is a wise decision. Her family—"

"Her family is in Massilia," Lucius interrupted. "My *Custodes* control the roads. She will be safe here. Unless, of course, there is a reason she would not be safe? Is there something about her identity you are neglecting to mention, Titus?"

Titus’s mouth opened and closed.

If he revealed Valeria’s identity, he risked Lucius executing him on the spot as a spy.

If he lied and left her here, Gratus would track her down, and the war would burn them all.

He looked at Valeria. Her eyes were pleading with him, begging him not to ruin her chance at freedom.

Titus exhaled a breath.

"No, Dominus," Titus lied, his voice hollow. "There is no reason. If the girl wishes to stay in your care, I will not object. It will... ease my burdens on the water."

Lucius smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He had deduced that ’Livia’ was a patrician in hiding. He didn’t know her bloodline yet, but he recognized a hostage when he saw one. Keeping her isolated within the praetorium gave him leverage over whichever aristocrat was tearing Massilia apart looking for her.

"Excellent," Lucius declared, rising from his chair. "Then the matter is settled. Valeria—"

Lucius paused, his eyes narrowing as he dropped the name like a trap.

Valeria’s breath hitched, her facade cracking. Titus dropped his goblet, the wine spilling across the table.

Lucius stared at the woman, his mind assembling the pieces of intelligence.

The patrician Latin. The peacock.

He remembered an intelligence report Isolda’s network had intercepted weeks ago...

Governor Gratus of Massilia was trying to finalize a marriage alliance with the Claudian house using his daughter.

"Valeria," Lucius repeated. "You are Valeria Gratus. Daughter of the Governor."

The silence in the dining hall was absolute.

Valeria closed her eyes, a defeat settling over her shoulders.

She had played the game for weeks, only for the Forge Master’s intellect to dismantle her disguise in seconds...

Titus looked at the doors, calculating his chances of sprinting past the *Custodes* guards.

Lucius sat back down. The ramifications of having the daughter of Rome’s Governor hiding in his palace were staggering. Gratus controlled the shipping lanes Lucius needed for his sulfur imports. If Gratus discovered Valeria was here, he would blockade the Rhone River.

But if Lucius played this correctly, she was a diplomatic shield.

"Titus," Lucius said, never taking his eyes off the woman. "You will sail south. You will secure my sulfur. And you will tell no one where the Governor’s daughter is hiding. If you breathe a word of this to Gratus, I will send my operatives to Massilia, and they will ensure you die slowly."

Titus nodded, scrambling out of his chair. "You have my word, Dominus! I am a ghost!"

As the smuggler fled the dining hall, Lucius leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

He looked at Valeria, who was staring back at him with pride.

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