Lucius left the quiet sanctuary of his study. As he navigated the corridors of his family’s villa toward the central atrium, he took a moment to sort through the memories of the body’s original owner.
In many transmigration scenarios he had read about in his previous life’s scarce free time, the original host was often depicted as a bumbling fool whose idiocy served only to highlight the reincarnated protagonist’s brilliance.
However, upon reviewing the teenage Lucius’s social history, the engineer was pleasantly surprised.
The original Lucius had not been a moron. In fact, he had possessed a pragmatic, almost transactional approach to his social life.
He did not waste his time befriending poets, philosophers, or the idle heirs of destitute patrician lines. Instead, he had curated a social circle comprised of individuals who held tangible socioeconomic value.
Chief among these strategic assets was the young man currently lounging on a marble bench beside the atrium’s impluvium... the shallow pool designed to catch rainwater.
His name was Quintus, the eighteen-year-old son of the praefectus castrorum, the camp prefect and chief quartermaster for the Third Legion currently stationed in Gaul.
In the hierarchy of the Roman military-industrial complex, Quintus’s father was the man who controlled the purse strings.
He was responsible for the procurement of all grain, timber, beasts of burden, and most importantly, arms and armor for thousands of professional soldiers.
As Lucius stepped into the open air of the atrium, Quintus looked up, tossing a half-eaten grape back onto a silver platter.
He was dressed in a pristine white tunic made of imported Egyptian linen.
"By the gods, Lucius, have you been entombed?" Quintus complained. "It has been two weeks! I sent slaves to your favored taverns, the baths, even the gladiatorial ludi, and yet you have vanished like a ghost. Where have you been hiding?"
"My apologies, Quintus. My father recently purchased a new iron mine, and it suffered a catastrophic collapse. I have been forced to oversee the laborers and survey new veins."
Quintus scoffed, waving a hand dismissively as if the concept of manual labor and financial ruin were merely crude jokes. "Well, you look like a plebeian dirt-scratcher. But I suppose I can forgive your absence, considering the mess I am dealing with at my own estate."
Lucius took a seat opposite his friend. "A mess? What has happened?"
Quintus sighed. "It is my uncle, Gaius. The man has lost his mind. He returned from a prolonged posting in Hispania and has suddenly decided to dispute the inheritance of our primary agricultural lands. He is utilizing some archaic loophole in Roman property law, claiming that my grandfather never transferred the deeds to my father."
Lucius listened quietly.
Property disputes in the 3rd century were nightmares, often dragging on for years through corrupt magistrates and endless litigation.
"Because of this sudden legal assault," Quintus continued, his tone turning bitter, "the provincial magistrates have placed a temporary freeze on the estate’s revenues until the matter is settled. I cannot even wager on the chariot races this week. And to make matters worse, my father told me to get out of his sight. He said, ’Go sit with Lucius for a while. Perhaps his father’s ruin will teach you to appreciate what you have.’ He practically exiled me from my own villa so he could deal with my uncle’s lawyers without my interference."
Lucius nodded.
"I am sorry to hear that, Quintus," Lucius said. "How can I assist you?"
Quintus stood up, stretching his arms. "By getting me out of this city. I have authorization to visit the legion’s encampment and my family’s remaining undisputed lands just outside the walls. Come with me. We can watch the infantry run their drills, drink some imported Falernian wine my father’s adjutants keep stashed away, and you can distract me from this miserable situation."
Lucius’s initial instinct was to decline.
Every hour spent indulging a teenager’s complaints was an hour not spent supervising the construction of his revolutionary blast furnace.
He had raw hematite to smelt and mechanical blueprints to draft.
However, as his mind processed the request, he was about to transition his family from raw material suppliers to value-added manufacturers.
But a superior product was useless without a buyer, and breaking into a monopolized military supply chain was difficult.
The current quartermasters undoubtedly had long-standing, corrupted contracts with the local blacksmith guilds.
To dismantle those guilds, Lucius needed raw market information.
He needed to know their profit margins, their production quotas, and most importantly, their exact pricing structures.
If he knew precisely how many denarii the local forges charged the military for a standard-issue gladius, he could utilize his advantage to engage in predatory pricing.
He could undercut the local smiths by twenty percent, secure the exclusive military contract, and still operate at a 300% percent profit margin due to the sheer efficiency of his automated furnace designs.
And right in front of him, begging for his company, was a pass into the very heart of the legion’s logistical command.
"You know, Quintus," Lucius said, rising to his feet. "I think a trip to the encampment is exactly what we both needز"
Quintus’s face lit up with relief. "Excellent! I have my horses waiting outside. We can ride out immediately."
As they exited the villa and mounted the finely bred Roman steeds Quintus had provided, Lucius allowed Quintus to vent about his uncle for the first mile, offering validating nods and agreements to ensure the young man felt supported.
"Seeing all these legionaries marching reminds me of my own current burdens," Lucius remarked as they approached the fortified palisades of the Third Legion’s primary camp.
"Oh? Still worried about the iron mine?" Quintus asked, taking a sip from a waterskin as they rode through the main gates, the sentries recognizing the quartermaster’s son and waving them through without a second glance.
"Partially," Lucius lied with practiced ease. "My father is stressing over the military contracts. We extract the ore, but I cannot help but feel the local forges are the ones truly profiting from our labor. They purchase our raw iron for a pittance, but I have no idea what they actually charge your father’s department for the finished weapons. Tell me, as a matter of idle curiosity, what is the current procurement rate for a standard infantry blade?"
Quintus shrugged. To him, this was merely casual conversation between patrician peers.
"The local guilds are vultures, if you ask me," Quintus replied openly, guiding his horse toward the command tents. "My father constantly complains about the prices. Right now, the lead forge in the city charges the legion exactly 35 silver denarii for a standard gladius, and nearly 50 for a decent lorica hamata chain shirt. And that is for average quality. The metal is often brittle, but my father has no choice. The legion needs to be equipped, and those forges hold a monopoly on the region’s production."
Lucius’s eyes glinted with a predatory light. 35 denarii for a brittle sword!
With the hematite vein he had just uncovered, and the thermal efficiency of the blast furnace he was currently building, his raw material and labor costs per sword would barely amount to three denarii.
If he sold his steel weapons to the quartermaster for 25 denarii, he would instantly bankrupt every single blacksmith guild in Gaul while making his family unimaginably wealthy.
"35 denarii..." Lucius repeated. "That is a steep price indeed. It is a shame your father is forced to deal with such extortion. Perhaps, in the near future, an alternative supplier might present themselves. Someone capable of providing a vastly superior weapon for a fraction of the cost."
Quintus laughed, assuming his friend was making a joke. "If such a man existed, my father would likely kiss his feet and grant him the exclusive contract for the entire province!"
Lucius stared at the legionaries running their drills in the distance.
"I will keep that in mind, Quintus," Lucius murmured. "I will definitely keep that in mind."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the Chapter! Your thoughts in the comments are always appreciated.