War with Pyrrhus Begins

280 BCE – The War with Pyrrhus Begins

War had come.

The news spread like wildfire through the Roman Republic—King Pyrrhus of Epirus had landed in Italy, bringing with him an army of hardened veterans, Macedonian phalanxes, and, most troubling of all… war elephants.

For the first time in Rome's history, they would face Hellenistic warfare on a grand scale.

But for Lucius Aelius Varro, this was an opportunity.

He had studied war—not just the battles of the ancient world, but the total wars of the future. He had spent nights writing strategies, penning tactics that would reshape Rome's military doctrine.

And now, those very ideas rested in the hands of Rome's top generals.

Would they listen?

Would they understand the significance?

It didn't matter. The war was coming. And Lucius would be there to witness it himself.

"You are ten years old, boy. Do you truly believe you understand war better than those who have fought it?"

That was what his father, Tiberius, had said when Lucius had handed him the scroll, instructing him to deliver it to Rome's military leadership.

Lucius had only smiled.

"I do not need to know war better than them, Father. I only need to show them what they are missing."

Tiberius had scoffed… but he had delivered the scroll nonetheless.

And so, in the war councils of Rome, the greatest generals of the Republic read through Napoleonic tactics, scribbled in the neat, elegant Latin of a ten-year-old boy:

"A great army cannot be fed by supply wagons alone. Live off the land, take what the enemy leaves behind."

"War is deception. Let the enemy see what we wish them to see."

"Do not fight where they are strongest. Strike their weakest point, over and over, until they collapse."

"Armies must be divided into corps, each independent but coordinated, allowing for rapid movement and adaptability."

"Destroy their supply lines. A soldier fights on his stomach—starve them, and they will fall without a single battle."

The Senate erupted in debate over the proposals. Some called them brilliant. Others called them madness.

But in the end… they were adopted.

And the boy responsible for them?

He was given a seat in the Senate, the youngest politician in Roman history.

Rome's Senate House was a grand, open-air structure where the most powerful men in the Republic shaped the fate of nations.

And sitting among them… was Lucius Aelius Varro, age ten.

Many scoffed at him. Many whispered.

"A child?"

"What foolishness is this?"

"The boy should be learning letters, not dictating policy!"

Lucius ignored them. He had one goal—to watch, to learn, to prepare.

War was coming, and he would not sit idly by while others fought in his place.

So when the first army marched to meet Pyrrhus, Lucius followed.

The night was cold.

Lucius pulled his cloak tightly around him, his small fingers gripping the hilt of a Roman gladius—a weapon far too large for his hands.

He had sneaked away, slipping past his father's guards, past the city patrols, and onto the road where Rome's legions marched.

He wasn't about to sit in a Senate chamber while history was being written.

No.

He needed to see it.

"You fool."

Lucius turned—his heartbeat spiking.

Before him stood a veteran soldier, eyes like sharpened steel, arms crossed. He was old, but his presence was undeniable.

Lucius straightened his back. "I am here to observe," he said firmly.

The soldier let out a harsh laugh.

"Observe? Boy, war is no school lesson. It's blood. It's screams. It's death."

Lucius met his gaze. "Then I will learn."

The soldier's eyes narrowed. But after a long moment, he simply shook his head.

"Stay close to me, then. If you die, I will be forced to lie and tell them you ran home crying."

Lucius grinned.

"I doubt that will be necessary."

The next dawn, the first true battle of the war with Pyrrhus began.

The armies clashed, Roman steel against Greek phalanxes. Lucius watched everything—the formations, the tactics, the way men died screaming under foreign spears.

And then—he heard it.

A sound that shook the earth itself.

A deep, terrible bellow, like the roar of a monster from the underworld.

Lucius' eyes widened as he saw them.

The War Elephants.

Towering beasts, clad in armor, crushing men beneath their feet.

Even the Roman legions wavered, fear gripping their ranks. The elephants charged—unstoppable, unrelenting.

Lucius felt his blood run cold.

"This… is something I did not prepare for."

To Be Continued…