The Plains of Pluto
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 15
Lucilla set aside another report detailing Egyptian raids on Britannian merchant vessels. They were getting bolder by the day. Kalb had started to send out patrols to slow some of the bleeding, but most of the experienced captains were with Valdar, and until he arrived, the bulk of their warships were escorting convoys to the front in Italia and up into Greece to help supply the lines being built there.
She knew he was hurrying, but the bleeding needed to stop if they were going to get things under control. With the sudden adoption of the new shells by the Easterners, almost certainly made possible thanks to the smuggling operation uncovered by Medb, they needed those supplies on the front more than ever.
Ky had already started moving much of their logistics to the rail lines stretching from Gaul all the way to Greece and the Far East, but it was much slower than sending ships full of supplies, which they had been doing.
Worse, bottlenecks had already started to happen, which would further slow down the amount of supplies that could get to the front. The carry-on effects of this were going to be felt far and wide.
She pulled out another sheaf of paper to write yet another message to Valdar to urge him on when something caught her attention. At first, it was at the edge of her consciousness, and it took a moment for her to work out what it was. It was like the normal sounds of the city, people going about their day doing the work that kept the city working, but angrier. Sharper. The volume was also growing steadily until she discerned the shouts mixed with the general din of noise.
Frowning, Lucilla rose from her desk and walked to the window to look out at the streets below. What she saw made her breath catch. A mass of people pressed against the palace gates and stretched down the thoroughfare into the distance, spilling over into every one of the surrounding streets. Here and there people were carrying banners, crude cloth signs with hastily painted slogans condemning conscription. Others took more active means to show their displeasure, hurling stones over the gates. For now, it was just in the direction of the palace, clattering harmlessly in the courtyard, but here and there the projectiles started hitting guards.
She could see more people arriving every moment, causing the sea of humanity to surge forward and crash against the gate like a relentless tide.
“Cynwrig!” she called to her guard. “Send men to reinforce the gates and ensure every entrance is double guarded. And send for Commander Faenius immediately.”
He nodded and hurried to carry out his orders.
What bothered her was that there hadn’t been any sign of this the day before. Usually, these kinds of things built over days, with smaller groups, the core of those upset over whatever had the masses riled up, yelling for change, and then the number of people increasing steadily as more learned about whatever the outrage was.
Rarely did unrest happen all at once like this. Not without help. It wasn’t hard to figure out where that help had come from. The proposed conscription law had not been made public and she was certain the news of them didn’t come from her people.
Senators, on the other hand, had every reason to release news of it, especially after she’d threatened them with dissolution if they failed to pass the measure.
A merchant in rich clothing climbed atop an overturned cart and started yelling. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but a moment later the crowd began to chant, ‘Our sons, not your soldiers!’ It wasn’t hard to work out what he’d said.
She was amazed by the scale and coordination of this. They had gone to extreme lengths to make this happen, and it wasn’t their concern for the youth of Britannia that drove them. Of that she was certain. It wasn’t even about their positions in the senate.
This was about money and power.
When choosing senators, each of the leaders of the three polities had picked men of status because they needed their support in creating the Empire. For a time, that had worked, but many of these men had grown fat and rich, finding ways of taking what they knew and creating policies they could turn to their advantage.
Some remained dedicated servants, to be sure. But enough were more concerned about their own coin purses, or the continued support of wealthy patrons, than the future of the Empire, that they were willing to send a mob against the palace rather than agree to something that could cost them money in the short term.
They’d rather see the Empire fall than their profits decline.
The mob continued to grow as she watched, with more groups arriving from side streets and pouring around the sides of the palace complex, swelling the crowd’s numbers.
“Their lands, their fights!” came a new chant from multiple points in the crowd.
Again, this felt more coordinated than spontaneous.
“Your Highness, these are being distributed throughout the city,” Commander Faenius said, walking into her office without preamble and thrusting several printed pamphlets toward her.
It confirmed what she’d feared. The pamphlets painted a nightmarish vision of her conscription proposal, claiming that all young men would be seized immediately from their homes and thrust into service, that entire families would be drafted, that Britannia was transforming into a military dictatorship under her rule.
Worse, she knew some people would believe it. Carthage had essentially done that in the last war, and enough of those from the continent who’d escaped their service had migrated into Rome and told their story that it had become common knowledge.
There had even been a few plays on the topic, children torn from their families and the harrowing journey they’d been forced to endure to get back home. She’d seen a few of them and they were well done, but it kept this very thing in the popular consciousness.
Primed the people’s fears.
“This is deliberate misrepresentation,” she said, furious. “How many of these are circulating?”
“Thousands, at least. They appeared overnight. Your Highness, the situation out there is deteriorating quickly. While the majority remains non-violent, certain elements are becoming more aggressive. We’ve identified several agitators we believe are fueling the situation.”
“Do they have any connection to senators?”
“I don’t know, but we can look into it.”
“Do it. I want to know who, specifically, is pushing this. We also need to find out how they’re managing to print and distribute this many pamphlets so quickly without our knowledge.”
“Private printing presses,” Faenius replied. “They’ve been springing up across the city, primarily producing entertainment, printing plays and stories quickly enough to be very cheap for the people. We should have been monitoring them more closely.”
“Or controlling them entirely,” Lucilla said, although she also knew that wasn’t practical.
Now that people had access to printing, and more people were becoming literate, they all wanted some kind of printed text, both for the enjoyment of it and as a status symbol.
Faenius nodded slightly before getting back on task. “Your Highness, with your permission, I can deploy the praetorians to disperse this mob before it gets further out of hand. If we allow this to continue unchecked, it will escalate to riots and looting. A swift show of force now could prevent that.”
“No. That’s exactly what they want, Faenius. The senators are hoping we’ll crack down violently, both on private commerce and on these protesters. They want me to react like a tyrant so they can use it against me. Probably to force me to give in to their demands, although I’m sure if we act rashly enough, a few might have higher aspirations.”
She doubted any of the senators would believe they could make themselves Emperor using public support, but what men thought they could do and the reality of the situation was often not the same thing.
“With respect, Your Highness, peaceful dispersal may not be possible at this point. The crowd is starting to get very worked up and the agitators among them are deliberately trying to provoke violence. We should at least prepare for the likelihood that force will be necessary.”
“I understand your concerns, but we have to find a way to make it work without resorting to violence. If we lose public support, everything becomes exponentially more difficult. No serious injuries, Commander. You may contain and control the crowd, but I want no clubs swinging unless absolutely necessary for defense.”
Faenius was clearly not happy with this command. “And if they refuse to disperse?”