"Come on, everyone, this way! There's room over here!"
Virgil stepped into the domus, out of the pouring rain.
Shaking the rain from his cloak near a torch, he watched his parents speaking with the lady of the house.
"We came at Caesar's invitation to attend the upcoming literature contest... I never imagined we'd be caught in something like this. To think our lodgings would burn down on the very day we arrived. Fortuna has been cruel to us indeed."
"Please, don't say that. Perhaps the goddess only wished to give us this chance to meet."
The lady of the house, a young woman in her mid-twenties, said with a warm smile.
"My husband is away on official duties at the moment, but had he been here, he would have said the exact same thing."
"Thank you so much for taking us in, Lady Atia."
His parents bowed their heads and thanked her repeatedly.
It wasn't just his family.
Countless patricians and equestrians were providing shelter for citizens who had lost their homes.
The displaced guests introduced themselves to the heads of the households.
New patron-client ties were being forged.
Stifling a yawn, Virgil slipped away while his parents were distracted.
He had no intention of participating in this long, tedious ritual.
"So even Rome was not so different in the end."
He muttered, gazing at the stone statues near the atrium.
Rome was completely different from what he had imagined.
This was not the grand, majestic city founded by Romulus that he had imagined. All he saw was chaos, fear, filth, and stench.
It was then, as he strolled down the hall, that he spotted a young boy farther down the corridor, rolling a die.
The boy looked to be about three to five years old.
Beside him stood a burly slave, his eyes sweeping the corridor warily.
When his eyes met the menacing slave's, Virgil flinched despite himself.
Just as he cautiously tried to walk past them, the child spoke up.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Where are you from?"
"From a place north of Rome."
Virgil replied with a chuckle. He doubted a child this young would know much about geography.
"From Cisalpine Gaul, right?"
"How did you know?"
"People from there have that accent."
"..."
Virgil stared at the boy playing with the die.
"You seem to like that die. My parents never let me play with them, saying it might make me fond of gambling."
"Want to play?"
The boy asked, holding out the die.
Virgil noticed that it had no pips on it.
Each face of the ivory die bore a small carved picture instead of pips.
"This is a sword and shield, isn't it?"
"You act out whatever comes up."
"Act it out? Like a play?"
Virgil examined the illustrations on each face. Did the sword and shield mean a warrior?
"Yeah. I'll go first."
The boy shook the die in his hand a few times and tossed it onto the floor.
Just as the die hit the floor, Atia hurried over and scooped the boy into her arms.
"Octavian, what are you doing out here? Come along now."
"But my die..."
"I'll get it for you."
Virgil bent down, picked up the die and handed it to the boy.
Atia smiled at him.
"Thank you so much. And your name is...?"
"Virgil."
"Ah, yes. Your parents are incredibly proud of you. They mentioned you have quite the talent for writing, despite your young age. You must be exhausted after such a difficult day, so please rest in your room, Virgil."
"Thank you."
Just as Atia turned to leave, the boy in her arms asked,
"What did the die show?"
"... A crown."
Virgil answered after a brief hesitation. He smiled at the boy.
"Next time we meet, you will have to play the king, Octavian."
***
The displaced citizens who had lost their homes overnight took refuge in temples, public buildings, and the homes of patrons.
But they couldn't stay there indefinitely.
Fortunately, others were already working tirelessly on their behalf.
"Come on, move it!"
"Get those logs upright first! Bring the tents over here first!"
Over the first two days, several camps were built in Nova Troia to accommodate the tens of thousands of displaced citizens who had nowhere else to go.
Children, the elderly, the injured, pregnant women, and families with nowhere else to go were assigned tents first.
New sections of the camp were added around the clock.
"All right, everyone, welcome! I know you are all exhausted and struggling, but I will briefly explain the rules. Late-night disturbances and acts of violence are strictly prohibited..."
As the displaced citizens found places to stay, the chaos quickly subsided, and order was restored.
However, that didn't mean all the problems were solved.
"So, where exactly did the fire start?"
"According to eyewitness testimony, the fire broke out in these four buildings almost simultaneously."
"Then find other witnesses around these buildings and take their statements."
Following Gaius Caesar's orders, the magistrates and lictors launched an investigation.
In the city of Rome—especially in the Subura, where buildings were crammed tightly together—fires were hardly an uncommon occurrence.
But a fire spreading on this scale was unprecedented.
"All of these buildings are registered to the same owner."
"The same owner? Get him here this instant!"
The man they dragged in was one of the wealthiest landlords in the Subura.
"All the eyewitnesses have testified that fires broke out simultaneously in your buildings. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I-I know nothing about this! If anything, I am the greatest victim of this fire!"
"I never actually said you started the fire, did I?"
Just then, several citizens stepped forward, claiming they had seen the landlord's slaves on the day of the fire.
"I saw them with my own two eyes, running back and forth carrying torches!"
In Rome, it was forbidden to torture free citizens, but that protection did not extend to slaves.
After a brief interrogation, the accused slaves all confessed to the same thing.
"The m-master ordered us to set the fires!"
"Why would he order you to burn down his own buildings?"
"He said that once the new district was developed, land prices in the older districts would plummet, so he had to sell off his properties as quickly as possible... But the tenants refused to leave, so eventually..."
"So he started a fire to evict his tenants? And then the flames got out of control."
Under Caesar's questioning, the wealthy landlord's face turned bright red.
"This is an outrageous fabrication! Why on earth would I burn down my own property?!"
"By driving out the tenants and putting up a new building, you could have sold the land at a premium. The tenants who lost their homes would have been forced to accept whatever pitiful compensation you offered. And if they died in the fire, you would not even have had to pay them that pittance. Isn't that right?"
"That's utterly absurd..."
"The truth of this matter will be decided in a formal trial! If you have anything to say, say it in court. If these charges are proven true... you will be stripped of your Roman citizenship, and you will be denied fire and water. I'm sure you know exactly what that means."
The lictors dragged away the landlord, whose body had gone completely limp.
To be stripped of Roman citizenship and denied fire and water.
That meant he would be placed outside the protection of Roman law. If someone seized his property or even killed him, they wouldn't face any punishment.
"T-This is a big misunderstanding!"
＊＊＊
"He did all that just to drive up the value of his properties? Tell me the details."
I listened as Father explained everything.
So he wanted to clear out his old insulae before Nova Troia was completed, put up new buildings, and sell them off at a high price.
But the existing tenants refused to leave, so he set the buildings on fire to drive them out.
"He committed a vile act for an equally vile reason."
"And we're the ones left cleaning up the mess."
Father sighed heavily. Then he lowered his head and whispered.
"Do you think this incident is connected to the last one?"
"By the last one, you mean..."
He was referring to the attempted assassination of Pompey.
There was a faction that had supplied weapons to those Jewish radicals.
"I can't completely rule out the possibility, but probably not."
If their goal was to plunge Rome into chaos, they would not have ended things with a fire alone.
They definitely would have used the confusion to carry out something bigger.
According to the intelligence I had gathered through the collegia, there did not seem to be anything particularly suspicious happening in Rome at the moment.
"In the end, Nova Troia was the reason this had happened."
I said, thinking of the history I knew. There was no record of a great fire like this.
Meaning this was a direct consequence of my actions.
"I should have anticipated that developing Nova Troia could lead to something like this..."
"No one can predict just how far greed can corrupt a man, Lucius."
Father said in a gentle tone.
"There is no need for you to blame yourself. Thanks to the larger firefighting force you and Crassus created, and the preparations you made against fires, we were able to limit the damage as much as we did. You can't predict everything."
I nodded instead of answering. True, I had taken various measures to keep fire insurance payouts as low as possible.
Regardless, this incident was going to result in a massive financial hit.
Babu, who was managing the insurance business, was probably tearing his hair out right about now.
No, now that I thought about it, he didn't have any hair to tear out.
"But there is another problem we need to solve right now."
Just then, someone pushed open the door to the meeting room.
Luceius stepped inside and gestured for his lictors to wait outside.
Father asked him,
"How did it go?"
"The fire is completely under control. But the losses are substantial. Ah, Lucius is here too."
"What kind of losses are we talking about?"
I asked.
"Well..."
Father nodded at the hesitant Luceius, signaling that it was fine to speak.
"If I cannot trust my own son, who can I trust?"
"Two large grain storehouses near the Subura were consumed by the fire. Half of the wheat reserves stored there are gone. We are keeping this quiet for now, but..."
Luceius added in a grim tone,
"The price of wheat will soar by this evening."
＊＊＊
Wheat.
Right now, Rome was a colossal metropolis consuming vast quantities of grain, fruit, and spices from Italy and across the Mediterranean.
Hispania sent olive oil, Sicily and Egypt sent wheat, and other regions of Italy shipped wine and seafood to Rome in enormous quantities.
Thanks to this, nearly a million inhabitants of Rome could enjoy a variety of foods at affordable prices.
That wasn't all.
The Roman Senate used tax revenues from the provinces to distribute wheat to the poorer citizens with little or no property at greatly reduced prices.
Through this system, nearly a hundred thousand Roman citizens could buy wheat for significantly less than the market price.
"A few years ago, Cato argued for expanding the list of citizens eligible for subsidized grain,"
Father noted.
"It was to prevent disgruntled citizens from staging an uprising."
"And it actually worked. Well, except for the massive drain it placed on the state treasury."
I nodded. In Roman politics, the grain supply was one of the most critical issues in Roman politics.
It was Gaius Gracchus who first proposed the policy of selling grain to citizens at a subsidized rate.
Even after the Gracchi brothers were murdered, the grain dole laws survived for over sixty years.
Not even the pro-senatorial dictator Sulla dared to abolish them.
"Since a large portion of the wheat in the state storehouses has burned to ash, we won't be able to distribute the planned amount. The market price of wheat is going to soar."
Luceius said, pacing anxiously.
"And the two of us consuls will have to shoulder the blame."
"Calm down. There is always a way."
Father replied in a calm tone, but Luceius still looked terrified.
"But it's not like we can conjure wheat out of thin air! Unless Lucius has some magical contraption that produces grain..."
He looked at me with desperate hope in his eyes, but I had no choice but to shake my head.
"I'm afraid that's impossible."
I was not Jesus, after all — five loaves and two fish would not save Rome.
"I figured as much."
Luceius let out a heavy sigh.
"Then what should we do?"
"..."
After a brief silence, Father stroked his chin and spoke.
"First, we must forbid merchants from hoarding grain. Once this news breaks, there will undoubtedly be those who try to buy up all the grain to turn a profit. Anyone with a bit of coin will stockpile as much wheat as possible and refuse to sell it until the price increases tenfold."
I nodded. He was right. Anyone who wasn't a total fool would know the price of wheat was about to skyrocket.
It was obvious that merchants would try to exploit the situation.
"If we ban hoarding and implement a price ceiling, I believe we can solve the immediate problem. What do you think, Lucius?"
"By a price ceiling, you mean setting a maximum price and forbidding any sales above that threshold,"
I said.
This, too, was a perfectly logical proposal.
A price ceiling would prevent grain prices from spiraling completely out of control.
"That's a brilliant idea. If prices remain stable, public anger toward us will subside. If anything, we might even earn the citizens' support."
Luceius said excitedly.
"It would prove that we acted swiftly for the sake of the people."
However, I had no choice but to pour cold water on their enthusiasm.
"That would stabilize prices in the short term. But it wouldn't take long for the situation to grow far worse."
"Grow worse?"
"Demand for food does not simply disappear. You can put off buying new clothes, but you have to eat every single day."
The grain storehouses had burned, meaning the food supply had decreased.
So what happens when the supply falls, but the law keeps the price from rising?
"The merchants will simply sell their grain in secret. They can make far more profit that way than by selling at the official price."
"Then we just round up every last one of those bastards and throw them in jail! Trying to profit from a tragedy like this! The citizens would not object!"
Luceius said, his voice rising in anger.
"Throwing them in jail will not create more grain. In fact, it will only make it harder to find grain in the open market. And the starving citizens will turn their anger against you and my father."
It was a pattern that had repeated itself countless times throughout history.
State-imposed price controls could be effective, but they frequently triggered unintended, disastrous side effects.
"Do you have a better idea, then?"
Father asked, breaking his silence.
"I do have one idea. First, as Father suggested, we must impose a strict ban on hoarding. We can't allow a handful of merchants to control the grain supply for their own profit"
"But you're saying we shouldn't enforce a price ceiling."
"Exactly. Other than banning hoarding, we do nothing."
"Do nothing? Do you have any idea how much blame your father and I will have to bear..."
"I misspoke. There is one thing we need to do."
I said, cutting Luceius off.
"We spread detailed news of Rome's situation across Italy. We tell them that the grain storehouses burned down and that the price of wheat is about to rise."
"What in the world are you talking about?! Lucius, I know you have a habit of making bizarre proposals, but this is..."
"Wait. I think I understand exactly what you're getting at, Lucius."
Father said, clapping his hands once.
"Most of the cities in Italy are already connected via the signal towers and the post stations. If they hear about the situation in Rome..."
"Every grain merchant in Italy will have a reason to rush to Rome."
It was incredibly simple logic.
"Merchants make a profit by buying low and selling high."
I said, looking from one to the other.
If we set a maximum price, merchants would have no reason to go through the trouble of hauling grain all the way to Rome.
But what if they knew they could sell it at a much higher price?
The signal towers would let them know exactly that.
"All we have to do is give them the chance."