Chapter 24: The Carthaginian Gambit

Chapter 24: The Carthaginian Gambit

The first warning came from the sea—a trireme with black sails cutting through the dawn mist off Ostia's harbor. No standard flew from its mast. No oars splashed. It moved like a ghost ship, its deck empty save for a single chest bolted to the planks.

Lucius felt the system's alert before he saw the danger:

[Threat Detected:

- Vessel Origin: Carthage (confirmed by hull markings)

- Cargo: Unknown (organic matter detected)

- Energy Signature: 92% match to Greek fire precursors]

Then the wind shifted.

The stench hit like a fist—rotting meat, saltpeter, and something far worse. The dockworkers retched. Seabirds fell silent. Even the ever-chattering Nikias gagged.

"By all the gods," Vulso muttered, "what is that?"

The chest creaked open.

Inside lay a football—or what had been one.

The leather was blackened, bloated with some viscous fluid, and stitched shut with what looked like human hair. As Lucius leaned closer, the system's warning screamed:

[Bio-Weapon Identified:

- Core: Fermented plague rats (Carthaginian siege recipe)

- Delivery Method: Burst on impact

- Lethality: 80% fatality rate if exposed

- Creator: Likely Decimus's exiled scholars]

Nikias backed away. "Tell me that's not—"

"A weapon." Lucius's voice was steel. "To kill football itself."

The Vestal acolyte arrived, her usually serene face pale. She traced a symbol burned into the chest's lid—a football wrapped in a serpent.

"The Pax didn't die," she whispered. "It evolved."

The emperor's solution was predictably deranged.

"We'll host a tournament!" Nero proclaimed from his balcony, tossing grapes at the terrified crowd below. "All teams compete—last one standing wins immunity!"

The system translated his madness:

[Imperial Edict:

- "Survival Football" matches

- Rules:

- No substitutions

- Plague ball used as official match ball

- Winning team gets Nero's "divine protection"

Problem: This will kill everyone]

Lucius barely had time to react before the Praetorians began nailing notices across Rome:

"BY IMPERIAL DECREE: THE LUDI PESTILENTIA BEGINS AT DAWN."

That night, beneath the Temple of Vesta's flickering braziers, the resistance gathered:

- Claudia smuggled in a lion cub trained to sniff out Greek fire.

- Julia Antonia had bribed the Collegia Butchers to swap the plague ball with a harmless decoy.

- The Vestals prepared a "miracle" antidote (vinegar, crushed emeralds, and blind faith).

The system's tactical display was bleak:

[Mission Parameters:

1. Steal the plague ball before the match.

2. Replace it without triggering Nero's wrath.

3. Find Decimus's Carthaginian base.

Success Probability: 28% (optimistic)]

Nikias tightened his bootlaces. "Remember Gaul? This is worse."

Vulso hefted a hammer. "But the stakes are simpler."

"How?"

"Win or die."

The plague ball was kept in the Temple of Mars Ultor, guarded by:

- Six Praetorians (dosed with "loyalty tonics").

- A moat of pitch (to immolate thieves).

- Nero himself, who'd decided to sleep beside it "for inspiration."

The plan unfolded in shadows:

1. Claudia's lion cub triggered a distraction by setting fire to a senator's toga.

2. The Vestals "accidentally" spilled sacred wine into the pitch moat, neutralizing the flames.

3. Nikias, covered in rancid goat fat to mask his scent, slid past the drugged guards.

Then—disaster.

Nero woke up.

"Lucius!" The emperor beamed, clutching the plague ball to his chest like a child with a toy. "You've come to admire my genius!"

The system's panic was palpable:

[CRISIS:

- Plague ball integrity: Failing (leaking)

- Nero's grip: Tightening

- Time to catastrophic exposure: 43 seconds]

Lucius did the only thing he could.

He challenged Nero to a one-on-one dribbling contest.

What followed was the most absurd five minutes of Lucius's life:

- Nero, giggling, dodged between columns with the plague ball.

- Lucius feinted left, then tackled the emperor into a laundry cart.

- The ball rolled free—straight into the Vestal acolyte's fireproof satchel.

The swap was complete.

Nero emerged from the linens, crowning himself victor. "I am the greatest footballer in the empire!"

No one argued.

Dawn's light revealed the truth:

The Ludi Pestilentia would proceed—but with the decoy ball. Meanwhile, Claudia's spies traced the plague ball's origin to a Carthaginian warship anchored off Sicily.

The system's report was urgent:

[Decimus's Location Confirmed:

- Base: Ruins of Old Carthage

- Forces:

- 200 mercenaries

- 3 triremes (plague-ball equipped)

- 1 stolen Roman ballista

Recommended Action: Strike before they reload]

But Lucius saw a darker truth.

"This isn't about killing us." He held up the decoy ball. "It's about proving football can be controlled."

Nikias frowned. "How?"

"By making us choose to ban the sport to save lives."

The Circus Maximus was a graveyard silence as the teams took the pitch. The crowd, knowing the stakes, watched the decoy plague ball like it might explode.

Nero's rules were simple:

"First team to score wins! All others… well…" He mimed vomiting dramatically.