Chapter 14: The Shadow Game Begins

Author's thoughts: I've cut many plots because I found them difficult to finish, like the wall construction and logistics plot; the MC is no longer in charge of logistics. We'll do a plot jump to conclude the final battle with Spartacus, so I won't be writing about political intrigue. With the Spartacus plot finished, we can focus on army development and conquering territories, which I think will be easier and less convoluted, saving me from headaches.

The Campanian sun felt like a hot weight on the shoulders of the Third Cohort's soldiers. Dust flew from thousands of synchronized leather sandals, a brown cloud enveloping the training ground. In the midst of it, Ulixes stood silently, arms crossed, his simple leather armor no different from the other soldiers, though the stitching was tighter and the leather showed fewer signs of wear. His eyes swept over every movement, missing no detail, every shield, every sweating face.

Before him, a sight that no traditional Legatus would ever approve of was taking place. Twenty legionaries, divided into two groups, slowly advanced in a tight testudo formation. Their shields overlapped, creating a tortoise shell of wood and iron-reinforced leather. Their steps were heavy and steady on the uneven ground.

Behind them, at a carefully calculated distance, twenty archers stood in loose ranks.

"Draw!" an Optio shouted.

Twenty bows were drawn in unison, the sound of bending wood and tightening strings clearly audible in the air.

"Fire!"

A series of sharp hisses split the air as arrows shot upwards, soaring over the shield formation in front of them, and raining down on a series of straw mannequins set up thirty paces ahead. Some arrows embedded directly in the targets' "chests," others stuck in the ground around them. Enough to make a real enemy duck their heads.

Ulixes walked along the perpetually crawling testudo line. He stopped beside a young soldier whose shield side wavered slightly.

"Your foot is a hand's breadth too far back, soldier," Ulixes said, his voice even, yet it cut through the noise. "Do you think your comrade's shield will bear your weight when a spear hits?"

The soldier flinched, his face reddening beneath his helmet. "No, Praefectus!"

"Then correct your position," Ulixes continued, not raising his voice. "Inside a shield wall, you are no longer a man. You are a stone. And a wall is only as strong as its weakest stone." He slapped the top of the soldier's shield hard. "Be a solid stone."

He continued his walk. At the end of the field, Centurion Flamma watched with a furrowed brow, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. He approached Ulixes as the testudo formation finally reached their straw targets and broke into a controlled attack.

"This… is unusual, Praefectus," Flamma said, his eyes never leaving his men who were now "killing" the mannequins. "Integrating archers with such heavy infantry in one small unit. If the enemy breaks through, the archers will be slaughtered."

"Spartacus will not fight us in an open field like this, Centurion," Ulixes replied, his emotionless eyes now looking at Flamma. "He will attack from the forest, from hillsides, from the shadows. He will try to break our formations into small groups."

He paused, letting the old soldier digest his words. "In such a war, we must be able to attack and defend with self-sufficient units. Each unit is both a knife and a shield. The archers suppress the enemy from a distance, giving the infantry room to advance. If the infantry is attacked, they form a fortress to protect the archers as they retreat. Each part protects the other."

Flamma chewed on the logic. It contradicted all the standard legionary training he had ever undergone, which emphasized the unbreakable strength of large formations. But he had also served in Germania. He knew very well what it felt like to fight in the forest against an enemy who did not fight by the rules. He nodded slowly, the movement stiff, as if his neck muscles fought the gesture. "I understand, Dominus."

As the morning training ended, a messenger from the wall construction sector approached them. Dust clung to his face, and dark circles were visible beneath his eyes.

"Centurion Flamma," he called, giving a respectful nod to Ulixes. "We need more men. There was a small landslide in Sector Gamma. The Sixth Cohort is complaining about their late water rations again. There's a problem with the supply lines to the wall."

Flamma turned to Ulixes, expecting orders.

Ulixes looked towards the giant project in the distance, a brown scar stretching across the hills, then back into Flamma's eyes.

"Let the engineers worry about their stones, Centurion," Ulixes said, his voice flat and dismissive. "That's another officer's problem. Not ours."

He turned to face his sweating troops. "Our problem is making sure every man here can kill three rebels before he falls. Tell them to rest. After lunch, we resume ambush training."

Flamma looked at him for a moment, then a rare, faint smile touched the old soldier's lips. He saluted sharply and turned to carry out the orders.

That's when Ulixes saw him. A figure moving quickly and silently between the tents, heading towards him. Not a soldier. His clothes were simple but clean. It was the Egyptian.

Ulixes's heart pounded once, a faster rhythm than usual. His personal messenger rarely met him in the open like this unless something was urgent.

The Egyptian stopped at a respectful distance, his hands hidden within the folds of his robe. He said nothing, only giving a barely perceptible nod. Ulixes understood.

He gave a final signal to Flamma before walking towards his tent, the Egyptian following him from a distance like a shadow. Within the privacy of his simple tent, the Egyptian handed him a small wax tablet, neatly sealed. The seal of the Licinius family.

Ulixes broke the seal with his thumb. His eyes quickly scanned a few lines of elegant handwriting on the blackened wax.

An official visit to inspect officer morale will soon take place. Two important guests will be in the entourage. Be prepared.

No names were mentioned. But Ulixes knew.

He closed the tablet, the warmth of the wax lingering on his fingers. He stood still for a moment, his eyes staring blankly at the canvas wall of his tent. His mind, now detached and analytical, immediately went to work, formulating plans, seeing opportunities, and weighing risks. The game of steel on the training ground had ended for the day. The game of shadows was about to begin.

The next day, the creak of varnished carriage wheels and the whinny of Rome's finest horses, unused to dust and the smell of iron, filled the air. Ulixes was overseeing the Third Cohort practicing defensive maneuvers when he saw it. A convoy, not clumsy supply wagons, but a serpent of silk and carved wood, slowly crawling towards the main gate (and several convoys of female slaves), bringing a different world into their harsh reality.

Training ceased instantly. The synchronized movements froze. The heads of the sweating soldiers collectively turned, their eyes, accustomed to shields and spear tips, now fixated on the unexpected sight. Their jaws slightly agape. Whispers began to spread through the ranks like fire in dry grass, a collective murmur of raw admiration, lust, and confusion. They watched noblewomen descend from their carriages, their brightly colored gowns like exotic flowers blooming amidst mud and steel. Their slave attendants moved swiftly, erecting a temporary pavilion of fine silk with swift, synchronized movements, a small island of civilization in a sea of brutality.

Ulixes felt the shift in energy across the field. The discipline he had forged with sweat and pain now evaporated for a moment by the allure of silk and perfume. He looked at Centurion Flamma, whose face hardened with annoyance at his men's diverted attention.

"Your eyes are on the shields in front, not on silk gowns from Rome!" Ulixes's voice cut through the air, not shouting, but his tone was flat and each word was precisely enunciated, like a gladius tip. "Rebels won't stop attacking because they're captivated by jewelry. Back to formation!"

The command seemed to snap them back. The soldiers flinched, quickly turning their faces away from the convoy and returning to their positions, a faint redness crept up their necks as they turned away. Flamma barked a series of orders, and the clang of steel resumed, though now with a slightly less focused rhythm.

An hour later, as the sun began to climb higher, a messenger from the main command tent arrived. "Praefectus Acilius," he said respectfully. "Dominus Crassus invites you to attend the welcoming reception for the guests from Rome."

Ulixes nodded. He gave his final instructions to Flamma before walking towards his tent. He shed his sweat-soaked leather armor, then washed his face and neck with cold water from a copper basin. The man who stared back from the rippling water looked tired, but his eyes were clear, his gaze analytical. He put on a cleaner tunic, fastening his military belt with deliberate movements.

Crassus's command tent had been transformed. Thick Eastern carpets were laid over the packed earth, covering the dust. Intricately carved low tables had been set up, on which silver goblets gleamed beside pitchers of the finest wine. The rich aroma of wine now mingled with the faint smell of leather and steel from the officers stood around the room, their postures stiff, unsure of where to place their hands. Ulixes could sense their discomfort. They were wolves of war forced to behave like pampered dogs at a party.

He saw Caesar leaning against one of the main tent poles, a goblet in his hand, his eyes observing the room, a flicker of amusement in their depths that was almost imperceptible. He was the only other person whose posture was relaxed and at ease.

Then, they entered. Ilithyia, Domitia, and Aemilia. Their presence immediately shifted the dynamics of the room. Ilithyia strode in with the grace of a goddess, her chin held high, her icy blue eyes sweeping over the officers with a cold, assessing gaze. Domitia followed, a confident smile playing on her lips, her dark eyes immediately finding Ulixes in the corner of the room. Aemilia seemed the most nervous, her smile a little forced, her hand clutching an ivory fan tightly as if it were her only anchor in this strange sea.

Crassus, with the charm of a seasoned politician, welcomed them. "Dominae," he said, he said, his voice carrying a tone of welcome. "Your presence brings the light of Rome to this grim place. My officers are honored."

After the initial pleasantries, Crassus gestured to Ulixes. "Ah, Dominae, you must meet our most promising officer, Praefectus Acilius. His victory in the Sila Forest has secured our supply lines."

Ulixes stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. "Dominus. Dominae."

Domitia smiled, stepping closer. "Praefectus," she greeted, her voice low and melodious. "All of Capua speaks of your victory. They say you fight with the cunning of a serpent, not the might of a lion."

"A serpent only strikes when provoked, Domina," Ulixes replied, his voice calm. "I merely carried out orders."

"Orders," Domitia repeated, her eyes glinting. "Always about orders, isn't it? This camp must be very... dull for a man of your talents."

Behind her, Aemilia seemed increasingly anxious as an older, red-faced Tribunus, a man named Servius, approached her, having had too much to drink.

"Domina Aemilia!" Servius exclaimed, his voice too loud and slightly slurred. "You look like a goddess lost among us mere mortals. Allow me to refill your empty goblet!"

Aemilia offered a stiff smile. "Thank you, Tribunus, but I believe I've had enough for now."

"Nonsense!" Servius laughed, his plump hand attempting to take Aemilia's goblet and accidentally brushing her arm.

Aemilia flinched back slightly, her panicked eyes darting towards Ulixes.

Ulixes moved before anyone realized it. He stepped forward calmly, as if to retrieve a wine pitcher from the table, effectively positioning himself between Servius and Aemilia.

"Allow me, Domina," he said to Aemilia, gracefully taking her goblet and refilling it. His movements were smooth and deliberate. He then turned to Servius, his face still expressionless, but his expression remained flat, his eyes holding a new stillness.

"Tribunus Servius," he said, his voice calm yet cutting through the surrounding chatter. "I believe Legatus Mummius was looking for you earlier. It seems there's an issue with tonight's patrol schedule."

The mention of Mummius's name, their disgraced commander, was like a bucket of ice water splashed on Servius's face. His drunken smile vanished instantly, replaced by a pale expression. It wasn't just a line. It was a reminder of status, failure, and who now stood in Crassus's circle of power. The Tribunus swallowed hard, his large body seeming to shrink.

"Ah... yes... of course," he stammered, sputtering. "I... I must see him. Thank you, Praefectus." He bowed awkwardly before quickly turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Aemilia looked at Ulixes, her breath slightly ragged, the tension in her shoulders eased, and the look in her eyes softened as she stared at Ulixes. Ulixes merely gave a very slight nod, before receding back to his position in the corner, as if nothing had happened.

Across the room, his eyes met Caesar's. The man raised his goblet about an inch, a barely perceptible gesture of acknowledgment, before a thin smile touched his lips, one that seemed to analyze more than express joy. I saw what you did, the look seemed to say. Well played.

The reception continued. Superficial chatter once again filled the room. But something had shifted. Other officers now looked at Ulixes differently.

As the women finally prepared to leave, escorted back to their private pavilion, Ilithyia walked past him. She appeared not to notice him, but as her lavish gown brushed his leg, Ulixes felt a light touch on his hand. A small, folded wax tablet, no bigger than his thumb, now rested in his palm.

He did not react. He simply continued to stand still until all the important guests had departed. In the silence of the now empty tent, he opened the tablet. Only two words were etched on the black wax:

West Storeroom. Midnight.

He closed the tablet, the warmth of the wax lingering on his fingers. He stood still for a moment, his eyes staring blankly at the canvas wall of his tent. His mind, now detached and analytical, immediately went to work, formulating plans, seeing opportunities, and weighing risks. The public game had ended. The real game was about to begin.

Night fell upon Crassus's camp like an unseen enemy, bringing with it a creeping chill and a silence broken only by a distant soldier's cough or the howl of a wild dog in the hills. Inside his tent, Ulixes was not resting. He stood before a small table, the light from a single oil lamp dancing across his stark face. On the table lay a rough map of the camp, which he had drawn himself on a piece of parchment.

The canvas flap of his tent opened soundlessly. The Egyptian stepped inside, his figure blending with the shadows.

"The storeroom in the western sector," Ulixes said softly, not turning from his map. "How many guards there tonight?"

"Two, Dominus," the Egyptian replied, his voice like a rustle of sand. "They spend more time by the bonfire at the end of the path than by the storeroom door itself. Too cold."

"Their patrol pattern?"

"Every two hours, a four-man patrol passes on the main road. They never approach the storage area."

Ulixes nodded, his finger tracing a path on the map. "There's a gap in the back fence of the storeroom, near the woodpile. Large enough for one person to slip through. Ensure no one is 'accidentally' in that area for the next three hours."

"It will be done, Dominus," the Egyptian said. He paused for a moment. "The risk is great."

"So is the reward," Ulixes replied calmly. The Egyptian bowed slightly and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

Ulixes donned a thick, dark cloak, concealing his gladius at his side. He stepped out of his tent, into the biting night air. He did not walk on the main roads lit by torches. He moved through the shadows between the tents, his steps light and almost inaudible. His 360-degree awareness talent was now fully active. His perception widened, creating a mental map of his surroundings. He could sense the shift in weight of a drowsy guard a hundred paces to his left. He could hear muffled laughter from a tent where soldiers were secretly gambling. He was a ghost within his own city.

He arrived at the west storeroom. It was dark and silent, isolated from the rest of the camp. The scent of old tarpaulin, rotting rope, and dust filled the air. As the Egyptian had reported, both guards were sitting by a fire, their backs to the storeroom. Ulixes slipped through the gap in the fence and entered the deep darkness.

He waited. The silence inside the storeroom was heavy. He could hear his own heartbeat, a slow, controlled rhythm.

Moments later, he heard the faint sound of light footsteps outside. The unlocked wooden door creaked softly. A shadow stepped inside. Ilithyia.

She closed the door behind her, the darkness within the storeroom seeming to embrace her. "You're here, gladiator?" she whispered, her voice tinged with amusement, as if enjoying the tension.

"I am here, Domina," Ulixes replied from the shadows.

He saw Ilithyia's silhouette approach. "This is madness," she said again. "If Crassus knew…"

"But he doesn't," Ulixes cut in. "And you still came."

He could sense a smile in Ilithyia's voice. "Danger is sometimes the best aphrodisiac."

The door creaked again. A second figure entered. Domitia. She moved with the same confidence as Ilithyia. "I hope I'm not interrupting your game," she said, her tone dripping with a sarcasm that had no warmth.

"You came just in time, Domitia," Ilithyia retorted. "The party was just about to begin."

The tension between the two women was almost palpable, a sharp rivalry even in the darkness. Both were predators accustomed to being the center of attention.

The door opened for a third time. Aemilia slipped in, her movements were hesitant, her body held stiffly. She closed the door and leaned against it, her body trembling slightly. "By the gods, what are we doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"We are taking back what is rightfully ours," Ilithyia answered firmly. She turned towards the darkness where Ulixes stood. "Isn't that right, Praefectus?"

Ulixes stepped out of the shadows, his tall figure now visible in the moonlight streaming through a gap in the roof. He looked at the three women one by one. Three queens in a wolf's den.

"Tonight," Ulixes said, his voice deep and calm, taking control of the room. "There are no titles. No husbands. There is only us."

He approached Ilithyia first. His hands cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing her lips. He leaned down and kissed her, a deep, demanding kiss, an affirmation of their alliance. Ilithyia responded with equal fervor, her hands clutching Ulixes's cloak.

He released Ilithyia and turned to Domitia. His kiss on Domitia was different, slower, more exploratory, as if reading her reaction. Domitia moaned softly, her tense body beginning to relax under his touch.

Lastly, he approached Aemilia, who was still leaning against the door. He did not kiss her. He simply raised her trembling hand and gently kissed the back of it. "You are safe here," he whispered.

That gesture, filled with unexpected tenderness, seemed to break something within Aemilia. Her fear subsided, replaced by something warmer, more hopeful.

Ilithyia chuckled softly. "Enough with the pleasantries," she said. She began to shed her robe.

In an instant, the atmosphere in the storeroom changed. The subtle power game was now replaced by undisguised desire. Domitia and Aemilia followed Ilithyia's lead.

The dim lantern light illuminated three naked female figures before Ulixes. Ilithyia stood in the center, her large, round breasts challenging him with hardened nipples pointing his way. At her side, the leaner Domitia smirked, one hand caressing her already swollen clitoris between her open, wet labia. Aemilia stood slightly behind, trembling, but her eyes fixated on Ulixes's tense, throbbing penis.

Ilithyia stepped forward, the musk of her aroused vagina preceding her. She knelt, her blonde hair sweeping the dusty floor, and without hesitation, she took the entire length of Ulixes's penis into her mouth.

Ulixes hissed. The heat and wetness of Ilithyia's mouth were overwhelming. He felt the tip of her tongue swirling around his sensitive glans, while her lips sucked powerfully. He could feel the muscles in Ilithyia's throat swallowing every inch of him. Beside him, Domitia began to moan softly, her fingers moving faster, clear fluid from her vagina dripping onto her thighs.

Ulixes gripped Ilithyia's hair, setting the rhythm of her sucking. He thrust his hips, forcing his penis deeper into her throat. Ilithyia choked for a moment before continuing more ravenously. Aemilia, aroused by the sight, approached and began to lick Ulixes's testicles, her soft, wet tongue contrasting with Ilithyia's powerful sucking.

This was not enough.

Ulixes pulled his penis from Ilithyia's mouth with a wet smack. He pushed her back, laying her supine on a pile of grain sacks. He forcibly parted Ilithyia's thighs, revealing her pink, swollen, and already drenched vagina. Her labia parted, exposing her throbbing clitoris.

He did not enter her immediately. He leaned down and extended his tongue, licking Ilithyia's clitoris with long, rough strokes.

"Ahhh… God… yes!" Ilithyia shrieked, her back arching, her large breasts swaying.

Ulixes continued to lick her, tasting the saltiness of her vaginal fluid. He inserted two fingers into her narrow, hot vaginal opening, feeling her wet walls pulsating around his fingers. Meanwhile, Domitia crawled towards Ilithyia's head, her smaller yet firm breasts brushing Ilithyia's face as she kissed her roughly.

After making Ilithyia shriek and convulse beneath him, Ulixes rose. He positioned his slick glans at the entrance of Ilithyia's vagina and, with one powerful thrust, he plunged himself in all the way to the base.

Ilithyia's hot, wet vagina gripped his penis tightly. Ulixes began to move his hips, each thrust producing a wet "thwack" as his penis slid in and out of her fluid-filled vagina. He could clearly see his penis pushing against the woman's labia, stretching them with each thrust.

He withdrew and without a pause, he grabbed Domitia. He turned the woman over, pressing her bent over a wooden chest, exposing her pink vaginal opening and her tight anus. Ulixes spat on his hand, rubbing his saliva onto his penis and onto Domitia's anus as an emergency lubricant.

"Don't…" Domitia whispered, but her voice was filled with desire, not rejection.

Ulixes pushed the tip of his penis into her tight anus. Domitia shrieked as her tight muscle was forced to stretch. Ulixes pushed slowly but surely until his entire penis was swallowed by Domitia's anus. The sensation was incredibly tight and hot. He began to move, his thrusts shallower but intense, making Domitia's entire body tremble.

As he thrust into Domitia from behind, he saw Aemilia. The woman was already riding Ilithyia, their sweating breasts pressing against each other as they kissed wildly.

The climax came quickly. With a savage growl, Ulixes felt a pulse at the base of his penis. He pulled himself out of Domitia's anus at the last second and released his shot. A thick, hot stream of semen spurted out, drenching Domitia's lower back and buttocks. He continued to pulsate, spraying more semen until he was completely empty. {+50 Essence}.

His breath was ragged. He looked at Aemilia. The woman dismounted Ilithyia and crawled towards him, licking the remnants of semen from his softening penis. The licking made him harden again in an instant.

He lifted Aemilia, laid her down, and entered her narrow vagina. This time, he moved at a different tempo, deep and sensual. He stared into Aemilia's eyes as he moved, watching fear transform into pure pleasure. He squeezed Aemilia's small but firm breasts, twirling her hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. The second climax came, and he spilled all his semen deep inside Aemilia's womb. {+50 Essence}.

He did not stop. He rose, leaving Aemilia still convulsing, and returned to Ilithyia. The woman was already riding him, moving her hips greedily on his penis. Ulixes grabbed her large breasts and squeezed them roughly. The third encounter was an explosion of pure passion, the final climax tearing through his body as he ejaculated the last of his semen into Ilithyia's vagina, already wet with her own fluids and sweat. {+50 Essence}.

He collapsed, his soft penis slipping from Ilithyia's vagina. He lay amidst the three women. Their bodies naked, gleaming with sweat, vaginal fluids, and his drying semen. The storeroom was filled with the sharp scent of sex. He could see strands of semen slowly dripping out of Ilithyia's and Aemilia's vaginas, mixed with their own fluids. He felt the power of 150 Essence burning within him, a force born from the wildest chaos.

He lay there, in the silence of the dark storeroom, surrounded by his satisfied queens.

Ulixes was the first to stir. With a low groan of protesting muscles, he pushed himself to a sitting position. His back stung where Ilithyia's nails had dug in. He ignored it. His sharp eyes, now fully clear, observed his three "secret wives." Ilithyia lay with the grace of a sated lioness, her eyes closed. Domitia leaned against a stack of tarpaulins, her face showing cold satisfaction.

But Ulixes's gaze stopped on Aemilia. The woman was curled up, pulling a piece of fabric to cover herself, and Ulixes could see her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

He rose and approached her, his steps soundless on the dusty floor. He knelt beside Aemilia, ignoring the now open, wary gazes of Ilithyia and Domitia. Without a word, Ulixes gently pushed the fabric aside and placed his large, rough palm on Aemilia's slightly rounded belly. Her skin felt warm beneath his touch.

"Is everything well… in here?" Ulixes whispered, his voice very low, only for the four of them.

That question, filled with unexpected tenderness, seemed to break a dam within Aemilia. Her sobs became clearer. "I… I've been feeling tired often," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And scared, Tiberius. Every day I fear someone will see… will know."

Ulixes did not withdraw his hand. His gaze shifted to the other two women, who were now sitting up, observing the scene. "And you two?"

"So far so good," Domitia replied, tidying her disheveled hair. "But hiding this gets harder every week. My best gowns are starting to feel tight around the waist."

"This child will be strong, like his father," Ilithyia said. She looked at Aemilia with an impatient gaze. "We just need to make sure no one knows who his real father is until the time is right. Weakness and fear are luxuries we cannot afford, Aemilia."

Ulixes took a deep breath. He looked at Aemilia, then the other two. "Fear is poison to mother and child," he said, his voice now carrying a new weight, no longer a lover's voice, but a patriarch's. "You must be calm, Aemilia. All three of you."

He rose to his feet, his naked form towering over them in the dim light.

"Starting tomorrow," he commanded, his tone allowing no argument. "I want you to change your diets. Meat, fresh fruits, cheese. Not just bread and water. Avoid harsh wines. Get enough rest. Let your slaves work harder."

He paused, his sharp gaze locking onto each of them one by one, a look that demanded absolute obedience.

"Your health… and theirs… is the top priority for the foundation we are building. Do not make foolish mistakes." He paused again, his voice became lower, a quiet rumble that carried an unspoken threat. "I will not tolerate negligence."

The three noblewomen stared at him in silence. They no longer saw a gladiator or a secret lover. They saw a man who was claiming their future, and the future of the children in their wombs, as his own.

In that silence, they began to pick up their clothes and put them back on. No more words. Everything had been understood. One by one, they slipped out of the storeroom, back into the night, leaving Ulixes alone.