"Did you say Caesar is here? But the Floralia is still a long way off, isn’t it?"

Miletus shouted to his companion as they fought their way through the crushing mob.

They had to shout just to be heard.

"I thought he was supposed to return just in time for the festival!"

"He must have moved up his return because of the banking crisis, don’t you think?"

Miletus finally managed to shove his way to the front of the crowd.

A few citizens glared at him for the rough way he pushed through, but he couldn’t care less.

The streets were already packed with people.

"This almost feels like a Triumph," he muttered.

However, the atmosphere was vastly different from a typical Roman Triumph.

When a victorious general marched his legions through the city, the citizens were overcome with ecstatic joy, clamoring to see the spoils of war and enemy kings in chains.

Today, however, the air was thick with a volatile mixture of hope and anxiety.

No one dared to voice their fears out loud, but the tension etched into their faces and the urgent tone of their murmurs painted a clear picture.

Could Caesar really fix this?

The flyers plastered across every square inch of Rome were enough to spark a flicker of hope.

Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus—three of the most powerful men in the Republic—had united to pledge a staggering twenty-six million sesterces to resolve the crisis.

But would that truly be enough?

Many of the citizens gathered on the street today had already been turned away by their banks, their life savings frozen indefinitely.

Some couldn’t pay their suppliers, while others were on the verge of eviction for missing their rent.

Even Miletus, who ran a successful blacksmithing business, had a large sum of money trapped in the insolvent banks.

"Look over there!"

At someone’s shout, the eyes of the entire mob snapped toward the city gates.

A blaring horn echoed through the air, and soon, figures began to emerge from the center of the road.

Leading the procession was a man clad in pristine white robes, Gaius Julius Caesar.

Dressed in the sacred vestments of the Pontifex Maximus, he walked slowly and deliberately down the center of the thoroughfare.

"It’s Caesar. He’s really here."

As the crowd murmured in awe, something that caught the sunlight drew their attention.

"Is that all the silver he brought back from Hispania?"

"It has to be. Look at the sheer amount of it."

Horse-drawn wagons rolled slowly behind Caesar.

The wagons were laden with heavy wooden chests, their lids thrown wide open for the entire city to see.

The silver coins overflowing from the chests glinted under the afternoon sun.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much silver in one place before."

"It really does feel like a Triumph."

Officially, Caesar’s return was not a military parade or Triumph.

The moment he crossed the Pomerium, the sacred boundary around the city of Rome, he had legally forfeited his right to celebrate a Triumph.

His legionaries marched behind him without armor, shields, or weapons.

They wore simple, unadorned tunics, and Caesar himself was dressed not as a general, but as the Pontifex Maximus.

Strictly speaking, this was nothing more than the High Priest returning to the city.

And yet, at this moment, the streets of Rome were packed with a crowd that rivaled the greatest Triumphs in history.

As the citizens murmured among themselves, Caesar suddenly raised his hand and gave a signal.

Instantly, something shot up into the sky.

"Look up there!"

Dozens of kites soared into the air, held by the legionaries marching in formation.

"What in Jupiter’s name are those?!"

"Are those kites? The things Caesar’s son used to hunt down the bandits?"

"I heard about those. I thought they were just pieces of papyrus tied to a string."

"But those don’t look like ordinary kites. Are they made of silver?!"

Dozens of kites danced on the wind, filling the Roman sky.

Every single one of them had been coated in silver dust, catching and reflecting the sunlight just like the coins in the wagons below.

Between the blinding light from the ground and the flashes from the sky, the citizens could only gasp in awe.

"It’s beautiful."

"I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life."

Even those who had been frowning with anxiety just moments ago stared wordlessly at the breathtaking spectacle.

***

"It is time to head to the Capitoline Hill, Mother."

"I am right behind you."

My mother, Julia, and I began to move.

The streets were so densely packed that navigating through the crowd was a struggle.

However, as the citizens recognized our faces, they respectfully parted, allowing us to follow my father’s procession toward the Capitoline Hill.

"If it weren’t for you, Lucius, a crowd this massive never would have gathered," my mother noted quietly.

"I am sure your father knows that as well."

"The crisis hasn’t been completely resolved yet."

I kept a close eye on the reactions of the surrounding citizens.

Every single person was staring at my father’s homecoming with a mix of awe and reverence.

There had likely never been a return ceremony for a Pontifex Maximus this extravagant in the history of Rome.

Aside from the lack of armed legionaries and chained prisoners, it was a Triumph in all but name.

I didn’t just see plebeians in the crowd; quite a few senators and equites were mixed in as well.

They were undoubtedly eager to see how this spectacle would unfold.

Scanning the faces in the mob, I recognized a few familiar ones.

They were my staff from the strategic office and various other workshops.

Ah, right. I gave them the day off today.

The more people there were in the crowd, the better the atmosphere would be.

Meanwhile, Julia seemed desperate to get a better look at Father.

"There are too many people! I can’t see him clearly!"

"We’ll be able to see him up close soon enough, Julia. Let’s just keep moving for now."

We followed the procession as it slowly advanced.

The final destination of my father’s homecoming was the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill.

Home to the sacred geese, the Capitoline Hill was the most revered religious site in Rome.

Though it was the smallest and narrowest of Rome’s seven hills, it held unparalleled significance.

King Romulus himself had built temples there to honor numerous gods, but subsequent kings had eventually cleared the others away, leaving only one supreme sanctuary.

The Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.

Though, to be precise, it was not Jupiter alone who was enshrined there. Juno and Minerva were honored alongside him as well.

Together, the three were known as the Capitoline Triad, the most powerful and important deities in the Roman pantheon.

This was the exact spot where my father would formally mark his return before the people.

I watched as the College of Priests, gathered at the base of the hill, welcomed my father with solemn bows.

Now, all he had to do was ascend to the temple and offer the ceremonial sacrifices...

But then, my father suddenly turned around to face the massive sea of citizens.

He raised both arms wide, and as he opened his mouth, the entire crowd held its breath.

"Wait, what is he doing?"

"My fellow citizens of Rome! Ever since the foundation of our glorious Republic, we have endured and triumphed over countless trials and tribulations!"

My father’s booming voice shattered the silence, ringing out across the hill.

"Once, the Gauls sacked Rome and burned our sacred city to the ground! Once, the armies of Carthage, led by Hannibal, marched right to our very gates! And over the past few decades, we have bled through grueling civil wars and bitter conflicts with our own Italian allies!"

"What is he thinking...?" my mother murmured from beside me.

I kept my eyes locked on my father.

I think I know exactly what he is trying to do.

There was no better opportunity than right now.

"But every single time, we overcame the darkness and marched forward! We drove out the Gauls! We crushed Carthage! And we reconciled with our allies to forge a stronger alliance!"

My father swept his gaze across the thousands of faces looking up at him.

"I know that many of you are suffering due to this recent crisis. But if we cast aside our fear, we will overcome this crisis just as we have overcome every other!"

He roared his next words.

"As many of you already know, Pompey, Crassus, and I have resolved to commit our personal fortunes for the sake of the Roman people! Furthermore, the Senate is preparing measures to resolve this crisis! Darkness is only dangerous when we allow it to strike fear into our hearts! If we stand united and refuse to be afraid, no darkness can ever threaten Rome!"

It was surprising that he had prepared a speech like that on such short notice.

It was a fact many people often forgot, but long before Caesar was a legendary military commander, he was an exceptional orator, lawyer, and prosecutor.

Even Cicero, the greatest orator in Roman history, acknowledged Caesar’s terrifying skill with words.

My father waved his arms one last time and shouted,

"I ask you now, citizens of Rome, sons of Mars! Are you truly afraid?!"

"NO!"

As the citizens erupted into deafening cheers, my father smiled and casually wiped the sweat from his brow.

Well, that just sealed the deal.

I looked around at the wildly cheering crowd.

The primary reason for a bank run was always the same thing: fear.

The fear that you might never see your money again.

If you eliminate that fear, the bank run evaporates.

With a single, masterfully delivered speech, my father hadn’t just erased that fear—he had completely shifted the mood of the crowd.

"I suspect we’ll see far fewer people trying to withdraw their money from now on."

"I am not sure a single speech will be enough to accomplish that," my mother replied, her expression still tense.

"The mood may be running high right now, but once the sun rises tomorrow, their panic could easily return."

"That may be true for the ordinary citizens. But at the very least, the patricians and politicians won’t dare show any signs of anxiety. If they rush the banks now, they’ll be publicly branded as cowards."

My father’s speech was a blend of logic and emotional manipulation, brilliantly stoking the citizens’ patriotism and Roman pride.

If any politician was caught trying to withdraw his funds after today...

"The public will look at them with disgust."

His speech was enough to use public shame to deter people from joining the bank run.

Did he plan this the moment he left the Rubicon?

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I looked at him.

The mood on the streets was completely different from what it had been just a few hours ago.

So I thought, until my father finished his speech and turned to climb the steps.

"Look up there!"

"In the sky...!"

As the crowd began to murmur in alarm, I followed their gazes and looked up.

What’s wrong now?

A sudden gust of wind had caused a few of the silver kites to violently thrash in the air, their strings tangling together.

Damn it, I explicitly told them to keep a safe distance from each other to prevent exactly this.

The tangled strings pulled taut, strained against the wind, and finally snapped with a loud twang. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

And just like that, the joyous atmosphere instantly evaporated, replaced by a suffocating silence.

"Look at that. The strings snapped."

"Is that a bad omen?"

The frantic murmuring spread like a wildfire.

The citizens stared at the silver kites drifting aimlessly away on the wind with their eyes full of dread.

"Brother..."

Julia grabbed my arm, trembling.

My mother and I stared at the sky in grim silence.

This was incredibly bad.

In this era, omens and divine signs were everything.

Before marching into battle or making any monumental state decision, the augurs always consulted the gods.

Even the People’s Assembly could be canceled at the last second if a ’bad omen’ was observed that morning.

How eagerly the sacred chickens ate their grain, how many birds flew across a certain patch of sky, the exact shape of a sacrificed animal’s entrails...

There were countless trivial things that Romans interpreted as messages from the gods.

"We can’t just stand here and do nothing."

Snapping out of my shock, I quickly scanned the crowd.

The mood was rapidly worsening.

If we let this fester, the citizens would accept the snapped strings as a divine warning that our efforts were doomed to fail.

Everything we had accomplished today would go up in smoke.

But what could I possibly do?

Right now, the only thing I could think of...

At that moment, amidst the panicked murmuring of the crowd, a single man shoved his way through the mob and marched straight toward one of the silver-laden wagons.

"Hey, what is that guy doing?"

"Is he trying to steal the silver?!"

The tunic-clad legionaries immediately moved to block his path. But after a brief exchange of words, they stepped aside with bewildered expressions.

Leaving Julia and my mother behind, I pushed my way toward the front.

What is he doing?

With thousands of eyes locked onto him, the man climbed up onto the wagon and reached into his tunic.

He pulled out a leather pouch.

He unfastened the strings and tipped it over. Silver coins spilled out, clinking brightly as they joined the massive pile inside the chest.

"What in Jupiter’s name..."

He just barged into the middle of a procession to pour his own coins into the chest.

The surrounding citizens looked just as stunned as I was.

"Has he lost his mind?"

"I have no idea what I’m looking at."

Just then, more men began shoving their way through the crowd, joining the first man at the wagons.

Every single one of them pulled out pouches or handfuls of coins and tossed them into the open chests.

One man. Then two. Then five.

The numbers swelled until dozens of men were emptying their pockets into my father’s silver chests.

It took me a moment to recognize their faces.

I had just seen them in the crowd a few minutes ago.

They were men who worked under me.

My workers were dumping their own coins into the wagons.

"What on earth is going on here?"