Chapter 4: Blood and Whispers

The early mornings in Rome had a sound all their own. No longer the clash of steel or the shouts of Centurions, but a deeper, more dangerous rumble: the sound of thousands of whispers, haggling in the Forum, and the gentle creak of political wheels grinding over the stones of the Curia. Ulixes stood on his villa's balcony, his thick toga shielding him from the morning chill. He gazed at the heart of the city, not with the eyes of a soldier surveying a battlefield, but with the eyes of a politician mapping his new labyrinth.

His campaign for Quaestor had been underway for several weeks. His legend as Tiberius Acilius Ulixes, the returning hero, had spread like wildfire through taverns and public baths, an investment he paid for with coin and directed by the Egyptian. However, he felt an invisible resistance, a solid wall built by tradition and old names.

He turned and re-entered the warm atrium. His alliance of queens awaited him. Licinia sat closest, her graceful hand holding a cup of warm water, her eyes showing the anxiety of both a wife and a political partner. Across from her, Ilithyia and Domitia sat with cold elegance, while Aemilia seemed slightly more confident, protected by her new status as the wife of a man they could control.

"Strabo attacked you again in the Senate yesterday," Ilithyia said, her voice cutting through the silence, sharp as broken glass. "He called you 'champion of the sewers,' a man whose wealth smells of slave blood, not the olive oil of ancestors."

Marcus Fannius Strabo. Ulixes' main opponent in this election. An optimate from an old senatorial family, who regarded Ulixes with barely veiled contempt. He was the embodiment of old Rome that hated everything Ulixes represented: a novus homo, a new man whose popularity disturbed the established order.

"His words are starting to stick," Domitia added, her tone analytical. "Some senators from minor families who had promised us their support are now hesitating. They fear Strabo's influence."

Ulixes listened in silence, his [Basic Psychology] knowledge processing not only their words but also the fear behind them. Strabo wasn't just attacking with slander; he was attacking the foundation of their legitimacy.

"We won't fight him with words," Ulixes finally said, his voice calm, cutting through their rising panic. "Fighting an orator in his own arena is foolish. We will fight him with the truth. His dirtiest truth."

He looked at them one by one, activating his network. "Ilithyia," he said. "You move in the same circles as him. I want you to listen to the whispers of the wives. Find out who his mistress is, which young men he favors, where he hides his debts."

He turned to Domitia and Aemilia. "You two, host the most lavish banquets this city has ever seen. Invite everyone who owes Strabo money or has done business with him. Get them drunk on your wine and mesmerized by your generosity. Drunks often forget to keep their secrets."

Finally, he turned to Licinia. "And you, my wife. You will hear what Crassus says about all this. I want to know his every thought. Is Strabo his ally, or merely a pawn that can be sacrificed?"

The wheels of intelligence warfare had begun to turn. His queens nodded, each now with her own mission. They were his weapons in the salons and banqueting halls.

But Ulixes knew that war isn't won only from above. He needed eyes and ears in the sewers where Strabo hid his filth. That night, he met the Egyptian in a dark alley behind the Forum.

"Strabo," Ulixes said curtly. "I want to know everything. Every coin he hides, every slave he tortures, every letter he burns."

The Egyptian nodded in the darkness. "Such information comes at a price, Dominus."

Ulixes tossed a heavy leather pouch. The clink of gold coins sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet alley. "Pay whatever it takes. I don't need rumors. I need proof."

As the Egyptian disappeared back into the shadows, Ulixes stood alone. He had unleashed his hounds of war. A pack of graceful she-wolves to hunt in the upper echelons, and a pack of hungry street rats to scavenge in the lower. He gazed towards Capitoline Hill, its majestic peak barely visible in the darkness. Blood and whispers. That was the true currency in this city. And he was determined to be the wealthiest.

The following days felt like holding his breath. Ulixes spent his time in his private training yard, an open space behind his villa surrounded by high walls, giving him privacy from potential spies. He no longer trained for survival in the arena. Now, every sword stroke was a meditation, a way to sharpen his mind while awaiting news from the front lines of his new war. The hiss of his blade slicing through the air became the only answer to his silent impatience. He felt every muscle in his body, a machine he had built and perfected, ready to be unleashed. But he knew this fight wouldn't be won with muscle.

The first report came from the world of silk and wine, brought by his architect herself. Ilithyia met Ulixes in the atrium, where he was standing, gazing at the reflection of the afternoon light in the small pool. Ilithyia's movements as she approached were as graceful as ever, her gown rustling softly over the marble floor, but her icy blue eyes gleamed with the energy of a hunter who had found a trail.

She stopped beside Ulixes, looking at their reflections in the water. "The air here is too formal for interesting conversation," she said, her voice slightly amused. "And I need something to ease the tension after a day of listening to boring senators. Join me for a bath."

It wasn't a question. Ulixes simply nodded and followed her to the private balneae in another wing of the villa.

The room felt warm and humid, filled with steam rising from the calm surface of the hot pool. Light from oil lamps danced on mosaics depicting sea nymphs. Ulixes removed his tunic, the scars on his back and shoulders silent witnesses to his past life. He stepped into the water, feeling the heat envelop his tired muscles, a relief that permeated to his bones.

Ilithyia entered moments later, letting her robe fall to the floor. Her pale, perfect body shimmered as she descended the pool steps, every movement deliberate and confident. She sat across from Ulixes, leaning against the cool marble edge, her eyes gazing intensely from behind the swirling steam.

"Strabo is a hypocrite, as we suspected," she said, her low voice now echoing softly in the quiet room. "He rants about Roman virtues and the dangers of new wealth, but half of his grain ships are secretly financed by a merchant from Alexandria whose reputation is as filthy as the Subura sewers."

Ulixes leaned back, letting the hot water soothe the tension in his neck as he absorbed the information. It was ammunition, but not a killing blow. It would only tarnish Strabo's reputation in certain circles, not destroy it. It was a crack in his armor, not a stab to the heart.

"That's a good start," Ulixes said, his voice calm. "Keep digging. Everyone has darker secrets."

Ilithyia smiled, the smile of a cat that had found a mouse. She swam closer, water rippling around her. She stopped directly in front of Ulixes, her slender fingers tracing Ulixes' chest, a gash from the arena that had almost claimed his life.

"You're learning this game quickly, gladiator," she whispered. "Before, you only thought about how to survive until sunset."

"The game is the same," Ulixes replied, his eyes never leaving hers. "Only the arena is bigger, and the weapons are different."

"Indeed," Ilithyia said, her eyes now gleaming with cold passion. She leaned forward, her full breasts pressing against Ulixes' chest underwater. "And I think so too."

Ulixes didn't answer with words. He answered with action. His large, rough hands moved from Ilithyia's shoulders, grasping the back of her neck gently yet firmly, his fingers tangled in her wet blonde hair. He pulled her closer, closing the distance between them.

Their lips met amidst the swirling steam. The kiss was a collision. Not a gentle kiss, but one filled with hunger and claim. Ulixes' tongue forced its way in, dancing and clashing with Ilithyia's in a silent battle for dominance. Ilithyia groaned into his mouth, reciprocating with equal passion, her free hands now tightly squeezing Ulixes' biceps. The water around them rippled violently as their bodies pressed together.

He released the kiss, leaving Ilithyia gasping, her lips red and slightly swollen. He gently pushed her back, receding until her smooth back rested against the submerged marble steps. The warm water washed over her pale breasts, making her already hardened nipples appear darker.

Ulixes stared at her for a moment, then lowered his head. His face disappeared beneath the water's surface, then reappeared directly between Ilithyia's now open thighs. He could smell the distinct aroused scent of her femininity, a sharp aroma mixed with the scent of rose oil from the bathwater.

His hot tongue touched Ilithyia's swollen clitoris.

"Nghh...!" Ilithyia jolted violently, her head thrown back, her back arching from the marble steps.

Ulixes gave her no time to recover. His mouth worked ravenously. He sucked, licked, and rolled the clitoris with a steady rhythm, while his fingers parted Ilithyia's labia, giving him deeper access. The sound of wet sucking and splashing water echoed in the quiet room.

"Oh... God... Yes... Yes, like that..." Ilithyia moaned, her voice hoarse, her eyes closed in ecstasy. "Don't... stop..."

He could feel the tremors throughout her body as her first orgasm began to creep in. He quickened his movements, his tongue becoming rougher, more demanding. Ilithyia let out a muffled scream as the wave of pleasure hit her, her body convulsing violently, her vaginal muscles throbbing in the water.

Before the tremors fully subsided, Ulixes rose. He positioned himself between Ilithyia's trembling legs. His hard, veined penis, wet with water and his own saliva, pressed against Ilithyia's soaked entrance. He thrust in with one deep, merciless stroke.

"YAAAAHHH!" Ilithyia shrieked, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as if searching for gods and goddesses.

Ulixes began to move, his hips slamming with controlled power. The sound of water splashing loudly followed each thrust. He gripped Ilithyia's hips, lifting her slightly from the steps, allowing every inch of his manhood to penetrate deeper. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, mixing with the hot steam.

He lifted Ilithyia from the steps, her legs now wrapped tightly around his waist. He stood in the pool, continuing to thrust, their wet bodies pressed against each other. Ilithyia clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, leaving red marks.

"Mine..." Ulixes growled, more to himself than to Ilithyia. He felt his peak approaching. With a few final deep, brutal thrusts, he felt the wave of heat explode. He spilled all his seed deep into Ilithyia's womb, a deep, satisfying pulsation.

He collapsed forward, resting his head on Ilithyia's shoulder, their heavy breaths mingling, their echoes bouncing off the marble walls.

He remained inside Ilithyia's body for a few moments, allowing the warmth and fleeting intimacy to envelop them. Ilithyia rested her tired head on Ulixes' chest. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the gentle sound of dripping water.

"Make sure you destroy him, Tiberius," Ilithyia whispered, her voice once again possessing that familiar cold tone, though her body still trembled from the remnants of orgasm. "Destroy Strabo until there's nothing left even to remember."

Ulixes didn't answer. He simply tightened his embrace, gazing into the swirling steam. Within the warmth of this luxurious bath, within the embrace of a woman who could destroy him with a single word, their cold war had just gotten a lot hotter.

The real weapon arrived three nights later, delivered by a ghost from Strabo's past. The Egyptian appeared in Ulixes' study like mist, silently, his presence marked only by a shift in the shadows in the corner of the room. He placed a small leather pouch on the table. Its contents were not coins.

"My children found a frightened rat," the Egyptian whispered. "A former servant from a high-class brothel that Strabo secretly frequented."

Ulixes opened the pouch. Inside was a broken tooth and a dark-stained piece of cloth.

"The girl," the Egyptian continued, "a slave from Gaul. Strabo, drunk and enraged after losing a gamble, beat her to death. The servant helped clean up the mess. He kept this as leverage."

A cold, heavy silence descended upon the study. Ulixes stared at the evidence in his hand. This was it. This was the silver bullet he needed. Blood. Not the honorable blood of the arena, but the dirty blood of an unnamed slave woman, spilled by the rage of a hypocritical nobleman.

"Where is the servant now?" Ulixes asked.

"Hidden. Safe. Awaiting your command, Dominus," the Egyptian replied.

"Good," Ulixes said. He pushed the leather pouch back towards the Egyptian. "Give him enough coins to live comfortably for a year outside Capua. Tell him to leave at dawn. We don't need him anymore. We only need his story."

After the Egyptian vanished, Ulixes stood alone in the silence. He felt a cold satisfaction course through him. Not joy. Not triumph. Only the certainty of a strategist who had just found a fatal weakness in his opponent's defenses. He looked out the window, at the lights of the noble villas twinkling on the hills. He now held an invisible sword, forged from brutal truth. And he knew exactly where to thrust it.

His final move was not a frontal assault. It was an invitation. Ulixes, through an intermediary, requested a private meeting with Marcus Fannius Strabo, under the pretext of "discussing the future of the campaign for the good of Capua." It was bait wrapped in honorable language, which he knew the arrogant Strabo would not be able to refuse.

They met in a private room in one of the city's most luxurious public baths, a relatively neutral location. Hot steam billowed from a nearby pool, muffling their voices and creating a veil of privacy. Strabo sat haughtily on a marble bench, wearing only a linen loincloth, his slightly corpulent body showing a life of luxury.

"I confess I'm surprised you requested this meeting, Acilius," Strabo said, his smile disdainful. "Have you finally realized that your new name will never buy the honor inherited through generations?"

Ulixes, standing before him, merely offered a faint smile. "I came to offer you a way out, Dominus," he said, his voice calm.

"A way out?" Strabo laughed. "Young man, you're the one who needs a way out. You're the one who will be humiliated when election day arrives."

"Perhaps," Ulixes said. "But at least, when I lose, I'll lose with clean hands." He paused, letting the silence hang heavy. "I can't say the same about you."

He stepped closer. "I heard a story from the Subura, Dominus. About a slave girl from Gaul. They say she had a sweet smile."

Ulixes observed Strabo's reaction with his [Basic Psychology] knowledge. He saw it. The barely perceptible change. The muscle in Strabo's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second. His once arrogant eyes narrowed with alarm.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Strabo said, his voice slightly lower.

Ulixes reached into his pocket and pulled out the small leather pouch. He opened it slowly and poured its contents into his palm. The broken tooth. The stained cloth. He said nothing. He simply displayed the evidence.

The color drained from Strabo's face. He looked at the objects in Ulixes' hand, then at Ulixes' calm, unemotional face. Cold sweat began to form on his temples. His arrogance had evaporated, replaced by pure, unveiled terror.

"You..." Strabo whispered, his voice hoarse.

"You will announce your withdrawal from the election tomorrow morning," Ulixes said, his voice now cold as steel. "Citing a sudden deterioration in health. You will sell all your properties in Capua within the next month and move to a secluded villa in Etruria. You will never again set foot in this city, or meddle in the politics of Rome."

He paused, looking at his now shattered opponent. "Otherwise," he continued, "the story of the girl from Gaul, along with the evidence, will reach the hands of every senator, every merchant, and every prostitute in this city before sunset."

Strabo trembled, no longer from anger, but from fear. He stared at Ulixes, searching for a glimmer of mercy. He found nothing. He had lost. Completely. He could only nod slowly, his world crumbling around him.

Ulixes turned and walked away, leaving Strabo frozen in the hot steam, alone with his destruction. As he stepped out of the bathhouse, back onto the bustling streets of Capua, he felt his first victory in the political arena. A victory that yielded no cheers, only the silence of a vanquished enemy.

Author's note: "The threat Ulixes leveled against Strabo was not based on law, but on a far more potent weapon in Rome: reputation and scandal."