Chapter 107: Chapter 107 : Practical Guide To Using Cato

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"What do you think?"

Felix shrugged with a teasing smirk.

"I’m not entirely sure, young master. You look far more exhausted than usual."

"I suppose I do."

I sank into a lounge chair in the atrium.

The sun had already risen quite a while ago.

"I will have the servants prepare breakfast."

At Felix’s gesture, the household staff began bringing in trays of food.

Most of them, like Felix, were freedmen who had served as slaves in my previous home in the Subura.

"Good morning, Felix," Pompeia said, stepping out of the master bedchamber.

"Good morning, my lady," Felix replied, bowing deeply.

For some reason, he seemed much more respectful when dealing with Pompeia than when dealing with me.

I let out a dry cough, and Felix merely shrugged.

"When you’ve spent as many years as a slave as I have, you develop an instinct for recognizing exactly who holds the true power in the household."

"Can’t really argue with that."

Pompeia watched the two of us bicker, laughing softly as she reclined in her chair.

"The two of you always get along so well."

"We’ve been stuck together since we were children, after all."

I washed my hands in a basin of water mixed with Palmolive before grabbing some bread and vegetables.

"Well, at least I can finally get some proper rest for a while."

"Don’t you still have the Game of Troy to prepare for?" Pompeia asked.

"You promised to command one of the teams."

"I did. But I still have a few days to catch my breath before that."

I was a newlywed. Was a little rest too much to ask?

I couldn’t just work from dawn till dusk every single day.

It was then that Felix cleared his throat, interrupting my train of thought.

"I hate to interrupt your peaceful morning, young master, but..."

"Then don’t."

It felt like Felix had spent quite some time waiting for the perfect opportunity to exact revenge on me for working him to the bone.

"Can’t you just handle whatever it is yourself?"

"This is something you must oversee personally. After all, they are gifts addressed directly to you, not me."

"Gifts?"

"Wedding gifts to celebrate your marriage, of course. As the master of the house, you must be the one to decide which gifts will be displayed, which will be stored in the vaults, and to whom we must send letters of gratitude."

"I suppose that’s true. Let’s just get it over with quickly."

It shouldn’t take that long, anyway.

Besides, opening presents was usually a fun experience.

At Felix’s signal, the servants began hauling the gifts into the atrium one by one.

Someone brought in Greek marble busts and bronze statues. Another carried in intricate handcrafted oil lamps and massive Eastern tapestries.

At first, I munched on my bread and admired the exquisite craftsmanship, but soon enough, I had to stop eating entirely.

"Wait, just how many more of these are there?"

The large atrium was already running out of floor space.

I watched in a daze as my atrium slowly transformed into an overcrowded warehouse.

Pompeia looked just as stunned as I was.

"I expected the senators and equites to send gifts to curry your favor, but... I never imagined it would be this overwhelming. Just cataloging all of this would take days."

"It’s not just politicians and merchants, my lady. Countless artists from across the city have sent gifts as well. And they are still arriving," Felix clarified.

"This is probably only one-tenth of the total."

"One-tenth?!"

I nearly spat out my wine.

At this rate, the house was going to be buried under a mountain of bronze statues.

But why on earth are the artists sending me this many gifts?

Actually, the reason wasn’t all that complicated.

***

In the weeks surrounding the Floralia festival, a new market had erupted in Rome.

Advertising had arrived in Rome.

Following Caesar’s decision to install billboards on the signal towers, various forms of advertising had been woven into the festival.

However, the most critical element was ensuring that the advertisements blended naturally with the religious aesthetics of the event without ruining the atmosphere.

"So how do we pull that off? We spent a fortune on these things."

"I guess we should go talk to the artists."

Many of Rome’s artists worked along the Argiletum, a bustling district stretching from the Subura down to the Forum.

This neighborhood was packed with painters, poets, actors, mimes, mask-makers, costumers, dancers, and musicians.

"How fast can you finish these?"

"I apologize, sir. But we are already swamped with orders right now..."

"I’ll pay you double—no, triple the usual rate! Just get it done in time!"

As advertising orders increased, the district came alive with new energy.

Normally, painters had to chase commissions, constantly visiting the estates of patricians and wealthy merchants. Now, however, they had a steady stream of work coming to them directly.

And they knew exactly whom they had to thank for this sudden boom.

"If it weren’t for the young Caesar, we never would have seen this much work in our lifetimes."

"Exactly. As long as this ’advertising’ thing continues, none of us will ever have to worry about starving again."

The artists stayed up night after night, churning out handbills, murals, and beautifully painted advertising boards just in time for the Floralia.

When the festival ended in monumental success and word of Lucius and Pompeia’s wedding spread, the artists were the very first to step forward.

"Shouldn’t we express our gratitude to him?"

"We absolutely should. Besides, he is the son of the Pontifex Maximus. If we earn his favor now, who knows? It might lead to even more commissions in the future."

And so, countless artists across Rome began preparing their finest masterpieces as wedding gifts.

***

"So that’s why we’re buried in gifts now."

After hearing Felix’s explanation, I nodded slowly.

It made perfect sense, though I was still shocked by the sheer volume of it.

"Even the Jewish community sent you wedding gifts."

"The Jewish community?"

I hadn’t expected that.

Rome did have a sizable Jewish community now, but I had never had much direct contact with them.

"Yes. The Jews in Rome have long sought a powerful patron—someone with enough influence to protect them if trouble arises. They may be hoping you could become that man."

"Well, a gift is a gift, after all."

I shrugged casually.

"But we can’t possibly display all of this in the house. We’ll have to select a few of the best pieces to keep here and... shove the rest into a warehouse or something."

"Locking these away would be a terrible waste," Pompeia said, standing up from her chair.

She walked over to the sprawling mountain of art filling the atrium.

"Lucius, do you see this?"

"See what?"

"This bronze statue of Hermes. Or, as we call him in Rome, Mercury."

She stepped closer to the gleaming bronze figure.

It depicted a young god wearing a winged cap, holding a caduceus staff in one hand and a small coin purse in the other.

The surface was polished so perfectly that it radiated a soft metallic glow.

"It’s Alexandrian in style. Or, more accurately, it’s highly likely to be a Roman reproduction crafted by an Alexandrian master. Look closely. The slope of the shoulders is rendered with the soft, idealized curvature typical of Greek sculpture, but the face itself is not overly idealized. The bridge of the nose and the jawline are carved with a harsh, grounded realism. It’s exactly the kind of aesthetic the Romans adore."

"You figured all that out after one look?"

"It’s not about ’figuring it out.’ You just look at it, and you see it."

Pompeia said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I fell silent.

No, a normal person definitely wouldn’t see any of that.

Pompeia, unbothered by my stunned reaction, moved on to next paint.

"Now this is truly exquisite. The god Saturn is holding a goblet, but notice how his gaze isn’t directed straight ahead, but slightly off to the side? And look at the grapevines curling inward from the edges of the frame. This isn’t just a simple depiction of a banquet. The composition is designed to symbolically draw abundance and prosperity into the home."

Had she always been this passionate about art?

As she continued her enthusiastic analysis, Pompeia suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

A faint flush crept onto her cheeks.

"I have a small interest in this sort of thing."

Come to think of it, Julia is also interested in art and literature.

That must be why the two of them became friends so quickly.

"I had no idea you had such a discerning eye for art, Pompeia."

"It’s nothing out of the ordinary, really."

Pompeia coughed lightly, averting her eyes.

"My father collected vast quantities of art and antiquities from the East during his campaigns."

"I see."

There was really no reason to be embarrassed about it.

I looked back at the literal mountain of priceless art.

There was no way I could display all of this in my house.

Of course, decorating one’s estate with fine art to flaunt wealth and culture was standard practice for Roman patricians and equites.

Aside from a few obsessive ascetics like Cato, everyone did it.

But hoarding this much art in a private residence would undoubtedly be viewed as disgustingly decadent.

Still, locking it all away in a dusty vault felt like a massive waste.

Then, an interesting idea crossed my mind.

"Perhaps we should construct a new building entirely."

"A new building?"

"I mean a dedicated public space specifically designed to gather, catalog, and display these paintings, bronze statues, and other artifacts."

Felix, who had been listening quietly, interjected.

"But, young master, do they not already display spoils of war and works of art in the temples and the Forum?"

"Those are just random trophies erected by victorious generals to flatter their own vanity. They lack curation and narrative."

I replied, "I mean constructing a dedicated building where the citizens could easily gather to appreciate art in one place. We could even exhibit the exquisite paintings and billboards used during the festival."

The concept of a public art gallery or museum didn’t exist in this era of Rome.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, however, many billionaires and industrial titans cemented their legacies by donating their private art collections to public museums.

But it didn’t have to be a simple act of charity.

"Advertising in Rome is only going to grow from here. If we exhibit these artworks and display the names of the artists who created them..."

"It will make it easier for the artists to secure new clients and commissions," Pompeia finished my thought.

She was incredibly quick on the uptake.

It would essentially function as a massive public portfolio.

In this era, artists—painters, sculptors, and actors—were generally viewed as lower-class laborers.

Sure, some became immensely popular, but the profession itself was largely looked down upon by the elite.

Perhaps this could serve as the catalyst to elevate their social standing.

And in doing so, it could spark a massive cultural renaissance in Roman art.

"However, such a plan will not be easy," Pompeia noted.

"To gather, categorize, curate, and properly display all of this art, you will need someone with an exceptionally discerning eye to oversee it."

"I believe the perfect person for the task is standing right in front of me."

At my words, Pompeia’s eyes widened in genuine shock.

It was the first time I had seen her look that surprised since we met.

"You want to entrust this to me? Are you serious?"

"I don’t have an eye for art," I replied with a laugh.

Nor did I have the time to micromanage a museum.

If Pompeia was passionate about it, handing her the reins was the perfect solution.

"Of course, the choice is entirely yours, Pompeia."

"I..."

Pompeia looked at the sea of art, murmuring softly.

"Taking on such a plan sounds fascinating. But I never imagined you would entrust me with a plan of this scale."

"You must be careful, my lady," Felix warned with a straight face.

"The young master always makes his proposals sound incredibly alluring. By the time you realize you’ve walked into a trap, it’s already too late. You will find yourself crushed beneath an endless pile of work and..."

"If I hadn’t already freed you, Felix, I would have you crucified on the spot."

Pompeia watched the two of us bicker and let out a soft laugh.

"I will say it again, Lucius, but you truly are a peculiar man."

"To be fair, Felix isn’t entirely wrong. The workload you’ll have to manage is going to increase significantly," I said.

Curating the museum wasn’t the only task I planned to delegate to her.

Just as my father had entrusted my mother with managing his political network in Rome, I intended to entrust Pompeia with managing our social and political connections.

Roman politics may have looked like a men’s game on the surface, but it was never that simple.

Intelligence gathering, rumor management, public opinion, backchannel negotiations—all of it mattered.

Elite Roman women wielded immense political influence behind closed doors. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

And Pompeia had already proven her competence in that arena repeatedly.

"What do you say?"

"Where there is a will, there is a way," Pompeia said with a confident smile.

"If you are willing to entrust it to me, I will do it."

"I’m glad to hear it."

I sank back into my chair, finally relaxing.

Felix had said it as a joke, but it was absolutely true.

There was a hard limit to what I could physically accomplish alone.

I had to delegate the right tasks to the right people.

That was the only reason my own workload hadn’t crushed me yet.

"Now, I can finally get some real rest for a while."

***

"When is he going to get some rest?"

"Did he not go home again yesterday?"

"I have lost track of how many consecutive nights he has stayed up working."

"Thanks to him, the poor chef is trapped in the kitchen, cooking nothing but moray eel day and night."

"You really have to respect his willpower."

Despite the hushed whispers among the staff of the Veterans’ Fund, Cato kept his bloodshot eyes glued to the ledgers.

His fingers flew across the abacus, rapidly calculating the endless columns of figures.

As much as it galled his pride to admit it, these new numerals the young Caesar had invented were undeniably efficient.

They allowed him to perform complex calculations in a fraction of the time required by traditional Roman numerals.

For the past several weeks, he had practically been living at the Fund’s headquarters.

Even during the roaring festivities of the Floralia, he had locked himself away, obsessively auditing mountains of financial records.

And now, the end was finally in sight.

"Just a little more... just a little more..."

Cato muttered, his eyes burning from exhaustion.

It didn’t appear that the young Caesar had handed him forged or doctored ledgers.

The accounts balanced perfectly, but that didn’t mean the Fund was flawless.

There were subtle, almost invisible leaks hidden deep within the ledgers, and Cato had relentlessly tracked down the source of each discrepancy.

And finally, he had uncovered the truth: several senior administrators had been embezzling substantial sums from the Fund.

He had undeniable proof of corruption in his hands.

However, much to his bitter disappointment, his investigation found no evidence linking Lucius Caesar to the stolen funds.

The embezzlers had acted entirely on their own, siphoning off the money out of personal greed.

"Still, the citizens of Rome will finally see the truth. They will see that this Veterans’ Fund is not the flawless, incorruptible beacon of virtue the young Caesar claims it to be."

Cato muttered, his hands trembling with exhaustion.

He had eaten so much moray eel over the past few weeks that even the faint smell of it now made him gag.

It was obvious that Lucius Caesar had appointed him to this position solely to flaunt how ’perfectly’ his Fund was managed.

But now that he had found these glaring holes, Cato himself would be the true victor.

"I can only imagine the look of despair on that arrogant boy’s face when he hears the news."

Rising on shaky legs, Cato marched past his flinching staff.

"Summon Caesar! Tell him the audit is finished!"

He rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes.

The weeks of bone-crushing labor had not been in vain.

As he imagined the young Caesar’s face crumpling in despair, a sweet sense of victory washed over him.

However, that sweet fantasy did not last long.

"I cannot thank you enough, senator. If not for your tireless dedication, we never would have uncovered corruption this deeply rooted. I truly do not know how to express my gratitude."

"You’re... thanking me?"

Cato muttered, staring at Lucius in sheer bewilderment.

Contrary to his expectations, Lucius wore a bright smile.

"If you think you can bury this scandal with sweet words and false gratitude—"

"Bury it?"

Lucius tilted his head in confusion.

"Why would I bury the truth you uncovered through such painstaking effort, senator? Shouldn’t we make these findings public at once so every citizen in Rome can see them?"

"Make all of it public? Right now?"

Cato’s eyebrows shot up.

"You want to publicly expose the corruption within your own Fund?"