Chapter 139: Imperial Envoy

"What is the issue with her back?" Camilla asked, crawling back into the canvas tent with an armful of pine branches.

"To shield me from the Praetorians... she absorbed a volley of iron *pila*," Flavius said, staring at the floor.

"It is no big deal. It is roughly equivalent to absorbing a few blunt blows from a training mallet." Aurelia twitched her mouth.

"It is vastly more sound to apply Tullia’s coagulant paste to the impact zones," Camilla insisted, throwing the branches into the brazier. "The synthesis not only neutralizes active bleeding but is proven to accelerate the healing of deep hematomas."

"Lean forward," Silas grunted, sitting on a supply crate and producing his own tin of medical paste. "Let me pack the bruises."

Seeing the look in the sniper’s eyes, Aurelia knew she could not disobey her own team.

She acquiesced without a single argument. "Very well."

She unbuttoned her coat, keeping her arms crossed over her chest, and leaned forward against her knees.

Prefect Flavius let out a gasp of horror.

She knew, without even requiring a mirror, that her normally smooth back was currently mottled with darkening purple bruises forming the exact shapes of the javelin heads...

During this clinical medical evaluation, Aurelia coughed twice, and looked at the Roman noble. "Prefect Flavius, do you possess any plans for your future? Your younger brother, Marcus, manipulated by Valerian’s Inquisition, has usurped you. Actually, prior to tonight’s military coup, neither Marcus nor the Consul possessed any hard evidence that you were harboring Syndicate engineers."

She then outlined exactly what she had overheard in the subterranean cell block to the stunned Prefect. "They worked in collusion to deprive you of your ancestral title and your estates. Even if you were not a Syndicate sympathizer, you would have been crucified as a traitor to the Senate. It was an incredibly simple land-grab for the Praetorians."

"If those imperial butchers genuinely dare to murder a Roman Patrician to steal my estates," Flavius said, "I will make my brother and the Senate bleed for this!"

"The ruthlessness of Consul Valerian’s Inquisition is far beyond your current comprehension." Aurelia shook her head. "They have already executed moderate senators and eradicated entire bloodlines without blinking. Think of the sudden purges in Neapolis and the slaughter in Mediolanum."

Flavius was stunned for a long moment, "Does Valerian genuinely possess the military capital to swallow the entire Roman Republic? I have only heard terrifying rumors from Mediterranean merchants, but the majority of the old nobility in the capital thought such a tyrannical consolidation was ridiculous."

"The old nobility in Rome also declared that Lucius Cassius was merely a doomed rebel who would freeze to death in Gaul." Aurelia shrugged her shoulders. "If the Forge Master’s calculations are correct, conquering the fragmented Italian provinces is only the first step in the Senate’s plan to eradicate all industrial progress. Unless you sign the trade agreement with the Syndicate, I am not authorized to disclose the deeper conspiracies. Besides, Valerian must have spent months plotting this military coup. The vast majority of your local magistrates and Praetorian guards have already swung their loyalty to Marcus, who undoubtedly promised them a cut of your profits. If you genuinely want to reclaim Noricum and enact your revenge, your only viable option is to turn to the Forge Master for artillery support."

"Will he actually deploy his armies for me?"

"Of course. It is the Syndicate’s solemn duty to wipe the Senate off the map," Aurelia said, a faint trace of a smile touching her lips.

The Prefect was dead silent, looking as if he were hesitating to voice his fears.

"You can trust me," Aurelia said, recognizing the Patrician’s hesitation. "You are free to leave the Western Region and flee to Britannia or Parthia anytime you wish. Lucius never compels anyone to remain in his territory."

"Is he... is he genuinely establishing a republic where merchants, engineers, and plebeians rule themselves?"

This was the second time the Prefect had asked her this exact question, and once again, Aurelia answered with pride, "Yes. It is the pinnacle of human progress."

In the light of the brazier, the expression on Flavius’s face seemed uncertain.

After quite a long silence, he nodded slightly and asked, "Are we breaking camp and riding for Lugdunum tomorrow morning?"

"Not yet," Aurelia and Camilla spoke in unison. They immediately locked eyes and burst into a short laugh.

"The local Praetorian garrison will attempt to dispatch courier riders to Rome to report your escape," Aurelia explained to the Prefect. "Therefore, over the next forty-eight hours, we must intercept and execute every single courier departing the valley. After that objective is complete, Silas will escort you to Lugdunum. I possess significantly more pressing demands here in Italy."

She clearly remembered what the Imperial Envoy had explicitly stated in that office above the dungeon: she was scheduled to depart for Mediolanum immediately following the military coup.

Apparently, wherever that terrifying *Frumentarii* assassin went, a bloody undercurrent of senatorial conspiracy swiftly followed...

If she reached the northern Italian strongholds, enormous troubles were guaranteed to find the Syndicate’s advancing armies.

If Aurelia could impede the Envoy, she would not only sabotage Valerian’s intelligence network, but she could also extract a bounty of classified information regarding the Inquisition’s tactics!

Aurelia took a deep breath and formulated a plan to assassinate the Envoy and her Praetorian escort, but she was not certain whether Lucius would authorize such a strike deep in enemy territory.

If he ordered her to abort the assassination and return to base, she would instantly obey his command...

***

January 21, 222 AD.

Exactly three days later, Silas, who had already escorted Prefect Flavius to the secure Gallic border, rode back into the Noricum ridge, leading two heavily armed Syndicate operatives behind him.

"Why exactly are you two here?" Aurelia asked.

"The Forge Master deployed us to provide assistance," Boduoc, the giant Celtic brute, grunted, dismounting his warhorse.

He doffed his wolf-pelt hood and gave his trench-club a testing swing. "We are extracting two crates of refined cane sugar and a barrel of premium wine as our hazard pay."

"You cannot wipe out an elite Praetorian detachment without my expertise!" Valerius, the Commander of the Heavy Infantry, said with a smile, checking the breech of his rifle.

"The Forge Master stated you are authorized to execute your assassination plan, but you must take your own survival into account first." Silas dismounted and continued, "He stated he is patiently waiting for your triumphant return to the praetorium."

"Truly..." Aurelia mused, suddenly acutely aware of a rare warmth blooming in her chest. "I understand the parameters."

"So, what are the exact enemy numbers?" Valerius raised his eyebrows slightly. "I was briefed there is a specialized Imperial Envoy among them?"

"I have not calculated the exact headcount of their marching column yet, but there are at most twenty armored Praetorian executioners, along with their servants," Aurelia said.

"You two will annihilate the infantry. Leave the Imperial Envoy to me."