Chapter 19

Devnum

Lucilla sat at her desk in her private office, transcribing the words Sophus was dictating in her ear, finishing the last sheet in a large stack of documents, when a knock drew her attention.

The door opened a moment later as Gaius admitted Ramirus, Hortensius, and Sorantius into the room, all three men bowing respectfully as they approached.

“Please sit; I know you all have busy schedules, so I appreciate you’re making the time to meet with me today,” Lucilla said, setting down her quill. “I’ll try and make this fast.”

“We are always ready to serve, Your Majesty,” Ramirus said.

“I know that, and I appreciate it. As Ramirus knows, and I’m sure everyone else has heard some kind of whisperings about, we’ve been experiencing difficulty getting the manpower we need to support the legions as they get closer to Carthage. I’ve been in talks with our countrymen in Ulaid and Caledonia about the possibility of their freeing up more men to join the legions, but those talks have been ... unproductive as of late. Part of the problem we’re having is that both states have given a large amount of manpower already, and we’re entering into the peak growing season. They fear, not unfairly, that they will not have enough people to harvest their crops come fall, leading to food shortages over the winter. I have sent messages to Ky and he has sent back some thoughts on new technology that could help us address this problem, allowing fewer people to harvest more. Which now, of course, puts the problem in your laps.”

Both Hortensius and Sorantius looked intrigued in their own way, Hortensius’s inventor’s soul nearly jumping up with excitement at the prospect of something new. A stark contrast to the slight tick of an eyebrow from Sorantius, which for him was the height of exuberance.

“I’ll start with what I need from you, Hortensius,” she said, handing over a stack of pages, one of which still had damp ink drying on the page. “It’s a device called a mechanical reaper. According to Ky, it will greatly increase efficiency in harvesting crops, allowing one man to harvest what would have taken dozens.”

Hortensius’s eyes lit up as he looked over the drawings and notes, mumbling to himself as he traced his fingers along the diagrams. “Fascinating! Using a reciprocating blade to cut the stalks. Brilliant! And you say the Consul wants this device completed before harvest season?”

“Yes, if at all possible. I assured both Conchobar and Talogren that we could provide an efficient harvesting machine in time for late summer and fall harvests. Can it be done?”

“I believe so. Technically, this is much simpler than some of the things we’ve worked on recently. Had someone had this idea even before the Consul arrived, it might have been possible, although maybe not, since our steel at that time did not handle torsional stress well. These pieces are very long and will require setting up new production lines, but that simply takes time. From a technical perspective, this is very much achievable.”

“Good. I know you have a lot happening, finishing the line to Londinium, getting the telegraph network extended in Ulaid and to our allies on the continent, but this is very important.”

“I understand, Your Majesty, and I will see it is done.”

“Thank you, my friend,” she said, before turning to Sorantius, handing him his own stack of pages. “In addition to a new mechanical solution to help with crop harvesting and manpower, the Consul has a new chemical solution as well, which he says will greatly increase crop yields. He calls it ammonium nitrate.”

Sorantius’ eyes narrowed. “Ammonium nitrate? It sounds similar to several other compounds he has shown us.”

“I know little beyond the name and intended use myself,” Lucilla admitted. “But Ky seemed quite confident in its potential. My understanding is that there are similarities to what you are already making and that you have the base components to create this, but that he has waited until now to introduce it because of our need for nitrates in other areas. Apparently, our nitrate production has increased to the point where he now feels comfortable diverting some of it from gunpowder manufacturing into other areas.”

“You are correct. We do produce more than our needs require at the moment. I had been looking to other uses hinted at by some of the Consul’s previous instructions. Looking at this...” the chemist said, holding up the pages. “I think this might be one of those. The instructions are clear, although with mixtures such as this, it isn’t as easy to test the results as it is for something mechanical. More so even with something like this, that has less instantly obvious effects. If I had my choice, I would test these on an isolated patch of crops for a season, to establish a baseline of results and determine proper usages.”

“I understand that and applaud your caution, but as with so much of what I’ve given you over the past few years, we are under time pressure. I don’t want to push you beyond your comfort level or jeopardize any of your people, but we do need this as quickly as possible. It’s too late to help with the initial plantings, but there is time for it to help with the winter crops.”

“We will do the best we can,” Sorantius said.

“Good. I appreciate anything you can do for me,” Lucilla said, pausing for a moment. “While these projects are important to the Empire, they aren’t the only reasons I asked you both to be here in person, instead of messaging these over or sending a message over the telegraph. This is not, and hopefully will not be, public knowledge, but the two of you are critical to the running of the Empire and have the ‘need to know,’ to borrow a phrase Ky likes to use. Very soon, I will be leaving Devnum and the Empire, and I don’t know how long I will be gone.”

Hortensius and Sorantius exchanged surprised glances.

“That means both of you will be on your own overseeing all of your projects in my absence. I know you are both capable and have run operations of your own long before being employed by the Empire, but this is more than just managing the creation and production of your assigned works. It means you will need to work with Lurio on distribution of the products and dealing with the issues that may arise. To be clear, this means both practical issues and, potentially, political issues. I know this is outside the scope of the work you both do and that both of you dislike politics in general, and I apologize for asking so much of each of you. It is, however, critical, and there is no one else I trust to handle things in my absence more than the two of you.”

“We are, of course, at your command and will do anything you require of us,” Hortensius said almost as soon as she finished speaking. “If I may ask, however, where are you going? You’ve made trips to the other states before, so I assume this is more than just visiting Caledonia or Ulaid.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but I can’t answer that. Please know it’s not that I distrust you in any way. Ramirus and Modius, however, both believe that there is risk associated with this trip, and the fewer people that know the specifics, the safer it is. I can only tell you this trip is necessary, and that I would not be going if the need were not great.”

“You can count on us, Your Majesty,” Hortensius said, Sorantius nodding his agreement.

“I knew I could count on you both,” she said.

She stood, smoothing her stola, signaling the end of their meeting, the two men quickly getting to their feet in response.

“Before I let you get back to your work, I want to sincerely thank you both for your loyal service these past years. I’m not sure if our Empire would have survived without your contributions, but I do know that you are both major reasons why we have stood our test as well as we have. You both have my deepest gratitude.”

Both men seemed to take that as seriously as she’d offered it. Even the normally businesslike Sorantius seemed a little moved by her pronouncement. She ushered the men out, leaving the specific details of how they’d administer everything to Ramirus, who followed them out.

Now, she just needed to find someone to mind the Empire as a whole in her absence.

Medb sat in the lavish chambers she normally shared with her husband Cormac in the Imperial Palace, lounging on a divan with a book in her hands. Coming to Rome had introduced her to many amazing things that she’d never thought possible, from trains to baskets that could fly in the sky under a globe of fabric, but the one she found the most fascinating was books like the one she was reading.

In practice, it wasn’t that different from what she’d had at home. They’d had collected works of long scrolls and even tied “books’ of parchment, but those had been treasures, hoarded and not accessed casually. The sheer time and expense of producing them were such that they were mostly used for short things like messages and speeches.

It wasn’t until she came here that she’d discovered the mass-produced tomes with their stamped-out letters, each copy almost identical to the next, so easily produced that she had even seen merchants and laborers with them. They were still new and hadn’t started making it into the further reaches of the Empire, but as she understood it, they were bringing about a wave of literacy, even among the lower class.

While she cared less about that, their popularity also meant that more artists, men who previously had created works for the stage, were putting their ideas to paper. The explosion of printed materials underway was largely driven by entertainment, of all things. Medb had always been a lover of plays, poets, and dramatists, and to have their works in her hands, where she could revisit them whenever she wanted, or find new ones each time she went to the market, had been like a gift from the gods.

Which is why she sighed in annoyance as a knock at her door interrupted her reading, forcing her to close the leather-bound writing, setting it aside on a small table.

‘This had better be good,’ she thought to herself as she crossed the finely decorated quarters she’d spent so much time cultivating and opened the door. Her face fell even more, which she wouldn’t have thought possible, when she found Ramirus, the Empress’s watchdog, standing outside her door.

He didn’t say anything, and the two just stared at each other for a moment before Medb stepped back, allowing Ramirus to enter the room.

“I guess you’re going to come in no matter what, so come in,” she said flatly over her shoulder as she walked back into the room.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Lady Medb,” Ramirus said, closing the door behind him and following her.

Medb waved a hand dismissively as she settled on the divan again. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? I assume this isn’t a social visit.”

Ramirus’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. “No, I’m afraid not. Though I had hoped after the last few months, we were beyond such hostility.”

“Yes, that started right after you threatened to execute me.”

“I think you would agree the outcome following your ... efforts to influence members of the clergy into open opposition against the Empire was far more lenient than even you expected. More so, I believe the Empress is trying her best to uphold her end of the bargain you struck with her.”

“I think my results should prove that I’ve done the same. Nothing in my agreement required me to be pleasant about it while doing it.”

“Fair enough,” Ramirus said. “I came to talk to you about Senator Fiacha. I have been following your progress. You did well in setting him up in the Forum with Senator Taenaris’s bill, but I had expected more to come from that little maneuver.”

“My job is done. Fiacha will not only stop blocking the bill, he will now be far more cooperative in all ways the Empire needs him to be.”

Ramirus looked genuinely surprised. “Oh? I had thought you were simply going to expose Fiacha and force him out of politics.”

“What would be the point of that? If we simply exposed Fiacha and forced him out of politics, we’d just end up with some new Ulaid senator who could potentially be even more troublesome. Instead, I convinced the senator that it is in his best interest to become more cooperative with the Empire on future dealings. This way is far better. We now have a senator firmly in our pocket, and the more we compel Fiacha to act in the Empire’s interests, the deeper in our debt he becomes.”

Ramirus raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like Fiacha is more in your pocket than in the Empire’s.”

“There’s the trust I’ve come to know and love. And you wonder why I’m still disagreeable after all your kindness.”

Ramirus inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her point.

“And no, not in my pocket. I just put things in place because that was the job you asked me to do. If you want to take point in directing the senator, by all means, go ahead. Though I should add that doing that puts more culpability on the Empire.”

“How so?” Ramirus asked in that maddening way of his.

She knew he already knew the answer but wanted to hear her reasoning before putting his own out there. He would have given the Greek philosophers a run for their money.

“I am still technically a subject of King Conchobar, so my controlling a Ulaid senator is problematic, but not as bad as Rome having direct control of one of the Ulaid senators. Especially since, of all the members of the Empire, Ulaid is still somewhat distrustful of the Empire as a whole and the Romans specifically. With my managing Fiacha, it provides the Empress with plausible deniability. I make an excellent cutout, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose,” he said, skeptically. “I will admit to having concerns over your managing an ... asset like Fiacha, but you are correct about the relations between ourselves and the Ulaid.”