Lucius maintained his polite facade as they rode deeper into the fortified encampment.
The information Quintus had just casually surrendered was the exact leverage he needed.
35 denarii for a standard gladius. It was practically highway robbery.
Yet, it illustrated the fundamental truth of the Roman military-industrial complex: the insatiable greed and perpetual paranoia of the Empire meant they would always need weapons, at any time, and at almost any price.
The borders of Britannia, Germania, and Parthia were constantly aflame.
The Severan dynasty relied entirely on the loyalty of the legions to maintain the imperial throne, which meant the military budget was effectively limitless.
If Lucius introduced true steel to this market... blades that possessed the tensile strength to shear through standard Roman chainmail without chipping the quartermasters would not just buy them; they would go insane for them.
And once the military was utterly addicted to his steel, he would introduce his more advanced mechanical inventions.
Torsion-spring ballistas made with standardized, interchangeable steel parts, advanced siege engines, and perhaps even rudimentary plate armor.
Their horses trotted past the bustling training grounds and entered the command sector of the castra.
Here, the noise of the rank-and-file legionaries faded.
At the center of this sector stood a cluster of large pavilions, the temporary headquarters for the legion’s elite officers.
Standing guard outside the most opulent of these tents were four heavily armored legionaries.
However, these were not standard infantry...
They wore the crested helmets and scale armor of veteran elite bodyguards, their hands resting lazily but confidently on the pommels of their spathas.
The tent flaps were tied back, revealing the interior. Reclining on a padded dining couch was a scarred man in his late forties.
He was using a silver dagger to carve a slice of roasted boar from a platter resting on a low wooden table.
This was Gaius, Quintus’s uncle... the very man currently orchestrating the vicious legal siege against Quintus’s father over the family’s agricultural estates.
Upon seeing the two youths enter the pavilion, Gaius’s stern face broke into a wide smile.
"Quintus! My favorite nephew!" Gaius bellowed, waving the dagger. "Come in, come in! Have some boar. The cooks in this wretched camp finally managed to roast something that doesn’t taste like a leather sandal."
Quintus hesitated, clearly conflicted by his loyalties. "Uncle Gaius. My father forbade me from speaking with you while the provincial magistrates are reviewing the estate deeds."
Gaius scoffed, tearing a piece of meat from his dagger with his teeth.
He chewed for a moment before swallowing with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Your father is a bureaucratic coward who hides behind parchment and litigators because he never had the spine to hold a real sword.
I am disputing his claim to the lands because he is mismanaging them, not because I have any quarrel with you, boy.
You are my blood. When I win this ridiculous legal battle, I will ensure your stipends are tripled. Now, sit down and eat!"
The original owner of Lucius body had avoided family disputes like the plague, viewing them as toxic entanglements. However, the engineer saw this fractured family dynamic as an exploitable resource.
Gaius clearly loved his nephew, viewing Quintus as the son he never had, or at least a favored heir.
Yet, his hatred for his brother, the chief quartermaster, was palpable.
"And who is this?" Gaius asked, pointing his dagger toward Lucius.
"This is Lucius, Uncle," Quintus replied, taking a seat and reaching for a piece of the roasted boar. "The eldest son of Cassius. We were just escaping the city for a few hours. His family recently purchased the iron mines in the eastern hills."
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Ah, Cassius. A good man, but a terrible investor. I heard about the collapse of the primary shaft. The Senate is already buzzing with rumors that your family will be destitute by the end of the month. A tragic waste of good coin."
Lucius stepped forward, offering a respectful bow.
"Rumors often outpace reality, Tribune," Lucius said. "My family has already located a new, vastly superior vein of hematite. We are extracting ore at triple the standard rate."
Gaius paused, his silver dagger hovering halfway to his mouth.
He looked at Lucius with a renewed sense of interest. "Is that so? Triple the rate? That is a bold claim for a youth who looks like he should be reciting Greek poetry in the baths."
""I assure you, I’m not into poetry," Lucius replied. "And observing the state of this camp, it appears superior logistics are exactly what the Third Legion requires."
Gaius chuckled. "You have a sharp tongue, boy. But you are not wrong. My dear brother is purchasing garbage from the local blacksmith guilds. I inspected the armory this morning. Half the lorica hamata rings are poorly riveted, and the gladii are so brittle they would shatter against a sturdy Germanic shield."
Gaius leaned forward. "The guilds are extorting us, charging 35 denarii for a blade that isn’t worth five. My brother allows it because he takes a generous cut of the profits under the table. It is treasonous corruption, but the Legate turns a blind eye because we have no other suppliers. If the Alemanni cross the Rhine this winter, our men will be fighting them with blunted iron and prayers."
The quartermaster was corrupt, taking kickbacks from the guilds.
And Gaius, a man with considerable influence and a deep disdain for his brother’s corruption, was looking for a solution.
Lucius spent the next few minutes engaging Gaius in casual conversation, seamlessly mirroring the older man’s tone and energy.
He validated Gaius’s complaints about the bureaucratic inefficiencies of the Empire, subtly demonstrating his own profound understanding of organizational mechanics and structural integrity.
He spoke of the chemical impurities in standard Roman iron... referring to it in terms Gaius would understand, such as ’slag’ and ’brittle forging’ and explained how poor thermal control during the smelting process led to inferior weaponry.
Gaius was captivated...
He had expected a pampered equestrian youth, but instead, he found himself speaking to a young man who possessed the mind of a veteran siege engineer.
Quintus simply sat back and ate his boar, utterly oblivious to the complex web of manipulation Lucius was spinning around his uncle.
Eventually, Gaius sighed, pouring himself a chalice of watered wine. "It is an pity your family merely extracts the raw ore. If you were in the business of forging, I would petition the Legate myself to strip my brother of his procurement contracts and hand them to you."
Lucius allowed a long silence to stretch across the tent.
He looked past Gaius, his eyes sweeping over the guards, the encampment, and the thousands of soldiers who represented an endless stream of imperial silver.
With Gaius taking the bait, Lucius knew the stage was set, and the timing was perfect to begin the deal for his steel.