Rumors that Lucius Julius Caesar had begun building his towers spread rapidly among the citizens of Rome.
Word was that even after the Senate denied him funding, he had joined forces with Pompey and Crassus to press ahead with construction in earnest.
"Building something so unprofitable... I've never seen a member of the vigintisexviri take on such a massive project."
"I hear the aediles are actually the ones helping him out."
"Between this and those streetlights, he really does care about people like us."
The streetlights, which had started on the Appian Way, were gradually spreading to Rome's main streets.
Public safety had genuinely improved, and the number of thieves prowling the streets at night had dropped significantly.
Naturally, citizens who witnessed this firsthand had high expectations for young Caesar's new towers.
"But without the Senate's backing, how long can he keep it running? It's just going to bleed money."
"Caesar has other businesses. He's probably funding it out of his own pocket."
In the midst of all this excitement, news broke that Lucius Caesar was paying visits to other senators.
"I guess he's asking senators for favors."
Rumor had it he was going around begging for help, but the reality was completely different.
"You plan to expand the towers to other cities? Beyond Ostia? "
The senators hearing Caesar's proposal all looked at him in confusion.
"It would cost a tremendous amount of money to build so many towers."
"Sir Crassus has already promised financial backing."
"Then why come to me?"
It was only natural for the senators to be wary. Building dozens of towers was obviously an expensive endeavor, and according to Caesar, it required dedicated operators stationed there to send and receive signals.
Any fool could see that the maintenance costs alone would be staggering. The most logical conclusion was that Caesar had come seeking a loan.
But Lucius made an offer that completely shattered their expectations.
"You'll name a tower after me... just for a promise of support?"
"Yes. All you have to do is publicly endorse the tower."
"If you're looking for an alliance to secure Senate funding..."
"Not at all. I have no intention of demanding anything in return. At least not in the Senate. I'm pretty sure the Senate won't give me a single coin."
"If you don't need my help in the Senate, why make such an offer?"
Most of the senators simply couldn't comprehend young Caesar's proposal.
In Rome, trading favors and debts was the natural order of things.
Even bitter rivals might help each other depending on the situation. But a debt had to be repaid, no matter what.
Refusing to do so meant absolute social and political ruin.
Yet here was Lucius Caesar, offering to put their names on towers with absolutely no strings attached.
It was hard to believe.
"The people of Ostia are already rallying behind me, and Pompey and Crassus stand with me as well. The people of other cities will surely welcome being connected to Rome. Naturally, they'll also throw their support behind he senators who support towers for their cities."
"..."
Lucius was right. Much like having your name attached to a public building, endorsing the project and getting a tower named after you would instantly win over the local populace.
It was basically free fame and prestige.
The senators racked their brains trying to figure out his true intention, but none could find a clear answer.
"Maybe he's planning to cash in the favor later?"
"Well, he explicitly said there was no debt attached. I suppose it can't hurt to accept."
As a wave of Populares senators began publicly voicing their support, a large group of Ostian citizens came looking for Lucius Caesar.
"Excuse me. We heard Caesar's estate is somewhere around here."
"Ah, just head up that way. You'll see the nameplate on the gate."
"Thank you."
The shopkeeper stared as a crowd of toga-clad men hurried up the road.
"What's going on today?"
***
"I think I'm going to need you to run that by me one more time."
I tried my hardest to suppress a cough.
I had wondered what was going on when the servants announced unexpected guests bright and early, but to think it was a delegation from Ostia.
And they were no ordinary commoners. These were the merchants and local politicians who essentially ran the city. The same people I had courted during my election campaign.
"We've all heard about the indignities you suffered at the hands of the Senate, sir Caesar," one man said, prompting solemn nods from the rest of the group.
"We also heard that you've been going door to door, asking other senators for help just to ensure our towers get built."
"Ah. Yes..."
Actually, neither of those things are true.
The "indignity" in the Senate was a trap I laid so I could keep a monopoly on the towers, and I was only visiting other senators to win them to my side politically.
Getting Pompey and Crassus on board was great, but it wasn't enough.
I needed to distribute fame and reputation to other senators to pull them into my camp and build an impenetrable wall of political support for the project.
The more senators had their names associated with my towers, the harder it would be for the Senate as a whole to shut me down.
Besides, handing out naming rights cost me nothing at all.
But had my behind-the-scenes maneuvering given the people of Ostia the wrong idea?
"We, the citizens of Ostia, are deeply moved by your willingness to endure such humiliation for our sake. For years, politicians have come to us with sweet promises during election season, only to abandon us the moment they win. But you are different, sir Caesar."
"I merely kept my word," I said, putting on my most dignified, noble voice.
It's not like I had intentionally tried to manipulate them with a sob story.
But I couldn't exactly burst their bubble now that they were looking at me like I was a saint.
"The people of Ostia have pooled our resources for this."
"This is..."
I accepted the thick bundle of papyrus scrolls they handed me. Dozens of pages were packed tight with names.
"Is this a petition of support?" I asked, eyeing the staggering number of signatures.
Had the people who traveled all the way to Rome to vote for me rallied the masses again?
"We heard that you run an insurance business in Rome. A service where people pay a monthly fee in exchange for compensation in the event of a fire."
"Yes, that's correct," I nodded.
Currently, I was only offering it within Rome.
I had plans to expand to other cities, but I lacked the capital and time to do it just yet.
"We would all like to purchase this insurance. Every single person on this list."
I let out an involuntary cough. Wait, all these people wanted to buy a policy?
"You don't need to provide the coverage immediately. We simply wanted to bring you what little funds we could gather. We know it won't be nearly enough to build and maintain the towers, but..."
The man gestured, and several slaves stepped forward, dropping heavy sacks onto the floor.
The unmistakable clink of gold and silver coins echoed through the room.
"We hope this will be of some assistance to you."
"Our merchant guild also wishes to place a standing bulk order for Caesar Palmolive."
"If you ever need extra manpower, we are ready to..."
The men all started talking over each other in their eagerness. I had to raise both hands to get them to quiet down.
"I am truly grateful to all of you."
I honestly hadn't expected my scheming over the past few weeks to snowball like this.
But from the perspective of the Ostians, it made perfect sense.
Some young patrician promises to build towers for their safety, gets bullied by the Senate, and is now supposedly groveling to other politicians to make it happen.
I had accidentally made an entire city believe I was some selfless hero.
Still, the towers would keep Ostia safe. That much was true.
And I certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I grasped the papyrus scrolls and nodded firmly. "I had been agonizing over what to name these towers..."
Well, not anymore.
"The Ostia Tower shall stand as the guardian of Italy's safety."
***
"So, this is the extent of your planning?"
"I thought this was comprehensive enough," Felix replied, scratching his head at Pompey's question.
While Vitruvius was spearheading the physical construction, Felix hadn't exactly been slacking off.
The communication towers Lucius Caesar proposed were highly complex systems.
To operate them efficiently, they needed trained personnel, structured shifts, and logistical support.
The towers were isolated from the cities, meaning operators had to work in teams and rotate shifts.
It was physically impossible for one man to sit in a tower all day, constantly sending and receiving signals.
But as the roster grew and shifts were scheduled, a new logistical nightmare emerged: providing housing, rest areas, and supply lines for the crews.
Managing a handful of towers was one thing, but if they were going to build dozens or even hundreds across Italy, the burden of administration would be staggering.
And the person Lucius had chosen to solve this exact problem was none other than Pompey.
If Crassus was providing the raw manpower and capital for construction, Pompey was providing the tactical brainpower for operations.
"To manage the supply lines and personnel for dozens of outposts, you need a centralized headquarters," Pompey said, pulling out a quill. He began drawing sharp lines across a large papyrus map of Italy.
"This headquarters will oversee the entire connections of towers. If these towers work exactly as Lucius claims, transmitting orders and reports back and forth won't be difficult."
"Then we could receive all incoming signals there as well. We'll have to build it in Rome, obviously."
"Naturally. But there's no need to forward every piece of information to the capital." Pompey tapped his head with the feathered end of the quill.
"A commanding general doesn't listen to every single scout. Raw reports must be filtered by subordinate officers; otherwise, one drowns in noise before finding what truly matters."
"You mean..."
"We establish regional relay towers. They'll process the signals, sort the local reports, and only send only the critical reports on to Rome." Pompey's pen kept moving.
Felix was starting to get the picture. He finally understood why Lucius Caesar had specifically asked Pompey to handle this.
Faster communication meant a drastically higher volume of information.
The same went for the massive influx of personnel required.
When it came to commanding sprawling networks of logistics and men, Pompey had decades of experience. There was literally no one better suited for the job.
"For example, a message traveling from Ostia to Tibur has no reason to pass through Rome. That just wastes time and manpower. Instead, the regional towers will route the signal directly to its destination."
"That sounds incredibly complicated."
"It's standard military logistics. I'll bring in the right talent tomorrow. I have a few former quartermasters from my legions who are perfectly cut out for this."
Completely oblivious to Felix's mounting headache, Pompey kept his eyes glued to the map. "This is genuinely fascinating."
For the first time in a long while, his blood was boiling with pure enthusiasm.
***
The Appian Way.
Amid the endless flow of Roman citizens going about their day, one man stood perfectly still, staring up at the sides of the buildings.
"It's really a surreal feeling," Spurius muttered to himself.
His gaze was locked onto the metal lanterns fixed to the brickwork—the objects the citizens had taken to calling 'streetlights.'
He had designed them as a mere afterthought, yet those very lanterns were now pushing back the darkness of Rome's streets.
Pedestrians shot him strange looks as they walked by.
"Mommy, that man keeps staring at the wall."
"Don't look at him, just keep walking."
Spurius let out a soft chuckle at the whispers. Just then, the door of the villa he was staring at creaked open, and an elderly man stepped out.
"Hey, you! Who do you think you are, staring at someone else's house like some prowler?"
"My apologies, sir," Spurius said, bowing his head respectfully. "I was just admiring that fixture on your wall."
"The fixture? Oh, you mean the streetlight!" The old man's scowl instantly melted into a bright smile.
"Sir Caesar had it installed for me. He told me he'd knock a few coins off the amount I owed for insurance if I let him put it up, but honestly, I feel like I should be the one paying him!"
"Has it been helpful?"
"Helpful? I'll say! We've hardly seen any thieves around here lately. It used to be so terrifying at night that we'd lock our doors and pray." The old man waved his hand cheerfully. "Now, some people are even taking strolls after dark!"
"Is that so? I'm very glad to hear it has been useful."
Leaving the confused old man behind, Spurius turned and walked away.
He had spent his life in the legions engineering devastating siege weapons and warships, but this was the first time he had ever built something that actively improved the daily lives of ordinary citizens.
"If it had been anyone other than Lord Caesar, this would never have happened," he murmured as he walked.
In less than a week, Lucius Caesar had produced his lanterns and installed them all along the Appian Way.
And the project wasn't stopping here—plans were already in motion to light up the rest of Rome's major arteries.
Citizens all over the city were practically begging to have their neighborhoods lit up next.
Humming a light tune, Spurius strode through the bustling street. There was still plenty of work to be done.
"But first things first. I need to get those towers built."