Dragon's Tale 28 (Patreon)

Looking at the impressive ruins made of marble —enchanted marble, even— I couldn’t help but feel a bit afraid. After all, Mount Pyrenaean was the most dangerous location I had ever visited, with a chaotic magical flow so thick that it required one to be a Sorcerer just to move along safely. Seeing a complete town, abandoned centuries ago, did little to calm me down. 

“Do you know anything substantial about the mountain,” I asked Astrid as we stood on the edge of the town. “For example, was it always a dangerous place?” 

“It was supposed to be always like that, a dangerous holy ground occupied by the spirits,” Astrid answered as she looked at the town, her frown matching mine. “But the existence of a Roman town doesn’t exactly work well with it.” 

“It’s clearly abandoned for at least a few centuries,” I commented as I examined the broken marbles, oozing magic. They had degraded noticeably, and for that to happen in such a clearly magical area, it required a lot of time. 

“Then there’s not much a difference of time between its construction and abandonment,” Lillian cut in. 

“Do you have a basis for saying that?” I asked, curious. 

She pointed at the nearest broken pillar. “The style of architecture,” she pointed. “Also, every single pillar we could see is stamped by the mark of the same Patrician family, of House Julia.” 

“How does it limit the construction of the city?” Astrid cut in. “Was that a new family or something?” 

“On the contrary,” Lillian answered with a small frown. “It was one of the ancient Patriarch families of Rome, present since its first founding.” 

Astrid still looked confused, so she continued the explanation. “Because there are only a few times Julia family was strong enough to build such a city, with one exception, those times happened when the Roman Republic was yet to expand into Gallic land.” 

“And that exception is Gaius Julius Caesar,” I cut in, which was a name that widened Astrid’s name. Justified, considering it belonged to the person that was singlehandedly responsible for the invasion and annexation of Gaul. 

“Yes, the great Tyrant himself,” Lillian murmured in a mixture of fascination and distaste. I understood her point. To say that Caesar was a complicated figure was understating things. There was no single man that created more controversy in Roman history, changing everything through his sheer presence. On the one hand, he was the most decorated general of Roman history, even surpassing my own distant ancestor Scipio in achievement. After all, Scipio Africanus might have defeated Hannibal in his own homeland and the broke ancient Magical city of Carthage, but Caesar proved himself again and again during two decades of unbroken string of victories. 

He annexed Gaul, broke the back of the Gallic tribes, and destroyed many magical enclaves that had been troubling Italy and Rome proper for centuries. He even defeated the great hero Vercingetorix, who had been empowered through the ritual sacrifice of a great many chiefs, merging the souls of many past heroes into his. It had been said that Vercingetorix shone like the sun, called lightning like a storm, and was strong enough to kill twenty men with each swing. Most importantly, he was charismatic enough to unite the tribes, and smart enough to lead them almost perfectly. 

Still, even when he was hampered by his opponents in the Senate, Caesar proved his superiority by defeating him and forcing his surrender, removing the soul of resistance from Gaul in the process. No doubt even the mention of his name was enough to silence Astrid. For a priestess like her, his name was equivalent to a demon. 

Of course, that was not just the case for Gallic and Germanic tribes. Even in Rome, he was a very controversial figure. After all, while he had a great many achievements —conqueror of Gaul, the first invader of Britanium, the savior of Asia-Minor, the bane of Pontus, the savior of Egypt— his most memorable victories were against other Roman generals. He defeated Pompei the Great in the plains of Greece, and destroyed another ancestor of mine, Quintus Metellus Scipio in Africa, and broke centuries-long tradition by capturing Rome. 

In the end, he was assassinated in the holy ground of the Senate, claiming that he was trying to crown himself as a King, which was the greatest taboo of the Republic. 

Of course, even that was not simple enough. Even after his assassination, he had enough supporters in public that the Senate was afraid of declaring him officially a traitor, even when his supporters had led another civil war —which they ultimately lost. 

“Do you think that we just found the mysterious camp of Augustus Caesar?” Lillian asked enthusiastically. 

“Possibly,” I said. 

Caesar’s nephew —who he later adapted as a son— was almost as famous as Julius Caesar himself. After Caesar’s assassination, he managed to wrest control of Caesar’s political and military machine, and if it wasn’t for Mark Antony’s —Caesar’s infamous second-in-command— aggressive but inefficient political posturings, he might have actually won the second civil war and established himself as the first Emperor. 

Instead, after losing a battle, he disappeared for two decades, only to appear from nowhere to wage another war, of which he showed a great magical and strategic talent. Pity that he proved lesser to his uncle, ultimately losing and dying on the battlefield. Still, his philosophy never died, and two centuries later, another follower of his philosophy, General Constantine, proved it through another civil war of which he cut half of the Republic and set the Roman Empire, creating a formidable enemy for the Republic from its own flesh and blood. 

I knew a lot about the history of Julius Caesar as my grandfather forced me to learn. Normally, my grandfather had cared even less about history than I did, but the history of Julius Caesar also had quite a bit of importance for my family. It stemmed from the mystique around the surname Scipio. After the famous victories of Scipio Africanus, who had saved the Republic from collapsing against the formidable Hannibal, the Roman public was convinced that any army that was led by a Scipio was invincible in Africa. I didn’t know whether it was true, of course. It might be the case that house Scipio had a contract with a strong nature spirit that might surpass sorcerers, or they might have some unique spells that tapped into the unique geographical traits of the region. 

Or it might be just a superstitious belief. 

It stayed unknown, even for the current patriarchs of the Scipio family. Even my grandfather hadn’t known, or if he did, he didn’t deign to inform me about it. Regardless, Julius Caesar was a practical general, so rather than forcing a demoralized army to face a Scipio, he reached to Cornelius Scipio Salvito, who was a branch family member, and recruited him as a general. It was a brutal battle, but when Julius Caesar won, the remaining members of the Scipio family gathered behind Cornelius Scipio Salvito, and become strong supporters of Caesar. 

Only to fall spectacularly when Julius Caesar was assassinated, followed by the death of Augustus two decades later. The remaining members of the family decided to abandon Rome and the reputation it afforded, and instead moved to Britanium to be a part of the colonization effort, slipping out of the spotlight, and closing the book on the glorious history of a Patrician family. 

Fate was a fickle mistress. Centuries later, as a bastard scion of the Scipio family, I was looking at the ruins that were almost certainly left by a Caesar, the unwilling architects of our destruction. 

As much as I wanted to enjoy the irony, I had more important things to focus on. “Might be,” I said. “This place is so hard to navigate that it’s not hard to imagine hiding a couple of thousand soldiers in such a way that it’s impossible to find, especially if they didn’t know to check the mountain in the first place. Augustus Caesar could have easily spent two decades behind the chaotic flows of the magic as he trained. And it explains the rumored magical talent of his core officer cadre if they had a way to train in such an incredible place. I had always ignored the rumor that every single Cohort of his had Centurion Sorcerer as an attempt to make the Republic look more impressive, but seeing this place, I’m more inclined to believe it.” 

“Do you think the library of this place might be intact?” Lillian asked enthusiastically. 

“I would expect that at least one of the Centurions had escaped the battle intact and returned here, but this place doesn’t look touched.” 

“Maybe they were afraid of leading back the enemy here?” Astrid cut in and offered her own opinion. 

“Or maybe, the protections were so strong that they were afraid of visiting without Augustus to raise the protections. I almost five centuries later, I can still feel the remnants of many overlapping wards protecting the place, and they are not the nice kind. I doubted that even a group of sorcerers would be able to safely dismantle them, not with such a chaotic mana storm ongoing.” 

“At least it proves that he deserves to be called the son of Julius Caesar,” Lillian quipped with a chuckle. After all, Caesar was famous for building rapid fortifications whenever he faced a challenge, and reinforcing them magically so quickly that they turned impenetrable. 

“Enough lesson,” I murmured. “We need to find a place I can ward safely so you can rest. I don’t want you to stay in the open with such a thick mana flow. We have no idea about the side effects.” 

“What about you?” Astrid asked. 

“Don’t worry, I’m strong enough to ignore the effects,” I said. “But we need to find a place to rest.” 

“Can’t we just find a cave nearby?” Astrid questioned. 

“Not safe enough,” I said. “It would be for the best if we can find an intact house.” 

“Can you really take control of the remnants of the wards?” Lillian said. “And why bother. Can’t we just establish new wards easily, and it would be safer.” 

“It would be easier, no doubt, but not necessarily safer,” I explained, and she looked at me in askance. “We still don’t know the identity of our enemies, or their capabilities. Still, if this city stayed untouched for centuries, I’m willing to trust their defenses more than anything I can establish in a couple of days. Certainly not without a proper wardstone and rune-carving tools.” Lillian nodded. I pinned them with one last look. “Don’t move anywhere. The wards are dangerous even for me. If you trigger something, I doubt that I could react quick enough to save you.” 

After receiving their promises, I finally took a step inside the city, flaring my magical senses to the maximum. For the first time since my Ascension, I felt the weight of an immediate threat. One mistake, and the wards would collapse on top of me, erasing me from existence. Yes, they had weakened over the centuries, eroding thanks to the endless scourge of the mana storms, but that also made them unpredictable. Even while walking through the streets, I had to be aware, because some of the wards had problems in their borders, and spilling into the street, forcing me to be careful at every single step. 

Ideally, the best way to deal with the wards was to find the central wardstone, and using that to restructure the wards. There was only one problem. The location of the central wardstone in a settlement was the biggest secret, as the destruction of it would result in the whole ward scheme exploding as well. Naturally, it was hidden perfectly even for a normal town. For this one, established as a secret base by either the most infamous Roman general, or his almost-equally infamous nephew and adopted son, finding it was harder than finding a lost caravan in the middle of a desert. 

So, I walked through the ruined streets, looking for a residence. Then, my senses flared, and I threw myself to the side, avoiding a sudden flare of flame, resulting from an oversensitive trigger, but I wasn’t fast enough to completely avoid the blow. “Damn it,” I murmured as I grabbed my left arm, which was already blistering under the heat, and prepared to cast a healing spell. 

Only to receive, this time a happy one. As soon as I started flexing my magic, the burn and the blisters disappeared in seconds. I had noticed my enhanced regeneration, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this strong. 

With my wound cured, I turned my attention to the ward that injured me. At first, I was expecting to find a damaged ward overreacting to my presence, but even a cursory examination showed that it was not correct. No, the featureless building that stood in front of me disguising as a warehouse had one of the most complicated ward schemes I had ever seen. More impressively, unlike the other wards, the exquisite and very dangerous wards around the building were actually still functional, though still excessively weakened from the damaging environment and ravages of the time. 

It was impossible for me to unravel those wards in a few days, but that didn’t mean that they were completely useless. Their potent presence actually stabilized the surrounding region, keeping both the physical parts and the ward schemes of the private houses around it. After a quick search, I picked a house that was in decent condition, and after reinforcing its wards for a while, returned to the girls. 

However, even as trotted the streets, my mind was on the wards I discovered, and the mysteries that lay under their protection…