The slaves worked outside the Villa with great care. Several hammered away, mending a large fence. A few more led cattle away from the barn, in the distance. If the boy squinted, he could catch sight of dozens of slaves in the large, expansive wheat field.
“What does he look like?” asked Maximus, with enthusiasm.
“A lot like you,” laughed his mother, as she stroked his hair. “Just… taller.”
“Why doesn’t he come to our house?”
Alyias Nervae’s face went cold for a moment, as her child asked his innocent questions. The dog barked playfully outside, and the young Roman woman shooed the slave away from tending to her coal-black locks. “Because he’s busy, sweetheart.”
“Busy doing what?” asked Maximus, as he looked out the window to the horse he had just received. “Is he sending me another present?”
Alyias offered a hollow laugh. “Yes, of course he is.”
“Is he as tough as Sarius?” asked the boy.
The young woman laughed a bit, and quickly hushed herself out of respect. “You will not refer to the Emperor by his name, Maximus. That is terrible.”
“Why? My dad is bigger than him, right?” asked the little boy.
Alyias laughed, “Not in arms, baby. He and the Emperor are friends, that is why he is so good to us.”
Maximus sighed a bit. He admired his new horse, as the slaves checked its hooves and teeth. The boy felt his mother’s hands brush stray locks of hair behind his ears. She drew him closer, and offered him a kiss on his forehead. “You’re all I have,” she whispered.

The little boy couldn’t take his gaze off the animal. “I want to be just like dad,” he smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

---------------
The Curia
Rome
--------------

The walls of the hall began to close in, as men of many years began to hurl insult, argument, and complaint at each other. The midmorning sun was heating the pavement outside, and with the tense atmosphere, it was as though the temperature were rising even faster inside the House.

Maximus watched as a furious quaestor slammed a fist upon his chest. “This cannot stand! Mutinous legions? And for what?”
The young Senator watched as the man continued his frustrated rant. “So that one Proconsular Legate, and the-“
“And the Magister Militum can completely ignore our Emperor, Sarius the Short Sighted?” shouted another anonymous voice.
Maximus felt his heart race, as he listened to the words around him. The slurs against the Emperor were growing bolder and bolder, as more than one party in the Empire seemed to regard him with less respect. When his turn to speak came, the young Senator stood up quietly from his seat, and shuffled through the crowd.

Stepping out into the open-air of the center of Rome, he felt the harsh Mediterranean sun beat down upon his exposed flesh. Immediately, a collection of guards fell upon the Senator, and acknowledged him. “To your residence?” asked the Tribune.
“Of course,” muttered Maximus. Turning to an assistant, the Senator asked, “Who do we have today?”
The young man responded in Attic, “Well, Praetor, we have Decius Leisticus requesting your attention. Also, there is a plea from Bokiar for heavier naval presence in the area around the Iberian straights.”
Maximus nodded. More mundane topics on the list at hand. His work as Praetor had proven to be rather dry, and he was looking forward to the next senatorial election. The young Senator had shaken the foundations of Roman society, in only a few years in politics. He had gained many a friend, and enemy, as he moved forward with his life.
The words hurled from one party to another had grown heavy, and now, Maximus was hearing rumors surrounding the feud between Antonius Brutus Disius, and Quinus Brutus Vitellius. All the while, the Emperor had been called “short-sighted,” “incompetent,” and a “buffoon.” It was feared that another civil war was in the works, as various parties began jostling for more power, in the seeming absence of centralized authority.

Maximus walked with his entourage along the Via Sacra, taking in the sights and sounds, as well as malodorous smells, of Roman daily life. Yet, again, he received the stares and interest of the plebs, who watched his figure with great enthusiasm. The young Senator’s law was considered by nobles to be impractical, even dangerous. Yet many a commoner had watched the young Julianus with great support and excitement.
And so, as Maximus made his way, quietly, through the Forum, he received many encouraging shouts and greetings from faceless plebs who kept shop along the roadside.

As the young Julianus received the attention of some young Roman maidens, the entourage stopped. “There he is!” shouted one of the girls. “My brother’s child is going to be heir to our family!” she added, with enthusiasm.
Maximus offered an awkward smile, and turned the other way, as several praetorians made their way down the avenue. “Senator,” greeted an adiuvator. “You have been summoned to the Imperial Palace.”

--------------------
Carthago Nova,
Iberia
--------------------

He spat blood, as Bokiar wound up for another punch. Throwing tables and chairs, the great Celtiberian smashed his fist through a cabinet to the pirate’s rear. “Open up your damned mouth and speak,” shouted Bokiar, in his native tongue.
The young man moaned, as he touched his broken nose. Bokiar looked to his comrades, whose mouths were slightly agape at the horrific scene before them. “Do it,” said the citizen, as he pointed to the boy’s hands.
“No, no, no, no, no,” pleaded the pirate. “I know nothing, I am of no help to you.”
Bokiar waved to the agent, who nonchalantly moved forward and pulled out pliers. The Celtiberian then helped his comrade, as he held down the boy’s flailing arms. “Tell me now, or you lose a nail.”
“No, no,” screamed the boy, “I don’t know anything.”
Bokiar turned to the man to his right, and nodded. In an instant, gurgling screams resonated through the small room, as the boy’s thumbnail was ripped from flesh. Tears welled over his battered face, as he looked to his gods for some relief. “Anything?” asked Bokiar, callously.

The boy continued to cry, as his hands quivered in pain. Bokiar looked to his agent, and nodded again. The boy threw out kicks and hopped in his chair, as his forefinger’s nail was torn off. Blood began to pour over the table, as he bit at his lips. “Wh-why do you do this?” he screamed. His face was covered in tears and snot.
“Because my men caught you at Gades, you and several of your little buddies,” whispered Bokiar.
“I was shopping-“ screamed the boy.
“You were raping my city!” exclaimed Bokiar. “Do not insult me.”
“I’m not going to give them up,” shouted the pirate, back at his captor’s face.
Bokiar laughed, and studied the boy’s soft features. “Pity you’ll never get to feel a woman.”
The boy’s face went serious, as Bokiar’s man removed another fingernail. The captive’s face began to turn pale, as he succumbed to the shock of the situation. “You’re defending men you consider ‘friends,’ men who left you for dead at the port, that day.”
Through tear and swelling pain, the boy studied the man before him. “Tell me what you know, and you are free to go. Where do they come from?”
The boy simply stared back at his captor. “Do you really want to go back to prison?” asked Bokiar.
“No,” responded the boy, his voice cracking.
“Then, I can arrange a better situation for you, if you assist me,” he added.
The boy swallowed. “Water?”
Bokiar nodded, and waved for another agent to bring a cask of liquid. The boy’s bloodied hands were released, as he sloppily sucked away at the cool water. Bokiar studied the little provincial, whose frame was too small for his 14 years of age.

In a moment, creaking stairs could be heard. All in the room turned, as Fortunus Maximus Julianus appeared in the room. He was donned in his ceremonial muscle cuirass, and crested helmet. The boy’s jaw fell agape, as he watched the Senator approach him.
Maximus sat in the chair, before the boy, as Bokiar and others stepped back. Silence fell over the room. Roman stared at provincial. “You know, my son, I was there at Gades that day,” spoke the Senator, in slow Latin.
The boy cocked his head to the side.“Who are you?”
“Fortunus Maximus Julianus, Senator and Praetor of Rome. I command the Classis Alexandretta, and I am looking for heroes today.”
The boy was puzzled. “Heroes?” Bokiar clarified the meaning in his native tongue, to the pirate. Immediately, the young man offered a smile.
“Yes, that is right. I need a hero, for each day,” added Maximus.
“What is your name again?” asked the boy.
“Fortunus Maximus Julianus.”

In an instant, the boy’s face went serious, as recognition overcame him. “My father spoke of you. You’ve been freeing slaves.” said the pirate.
“Yes I have, my friend. And if you help me today, you will be granted the highest status of any Roman subject. You will be made a citizen, and given land,” said Maximus, with a smile.
The boy let out a light chuckle. “No more pain,” said Maximus. “Those men whom you deem friends, are not worthy of anyone’s attention. If you help me to find out more about where they come from, then I will offer you clemency.”
The boy swallowed, and looked at the forms around him. He leaned forward in his chair, and Maximus allowed him to whisper his knowledge into his ear. Bokiar watched as the Senator’s face broke into a crooked smile.
Maximus nodded, and patted the pirate on the head. “Good boy,” he said. Slowly, he stood up.
“Now, stand, and let me free you,” bellowed Maximus. The young pirate rose from his chair, and moved to the center of the room, before the official. A smile graced his ignorant face, as he closed his eyes, expecting some mysterious ritual or magic.
Quietly, mechanically, Maximus Julianus unsheathed his gladius. The boy peeked from behind his eyes for just a moment, in anticipation. His reaction, however, was too late, for the Senator’s blade instantly sliced through muscle and bone, and separated head from body.
“All in a day’s work,” said Maximus, as he winked to Bokiar. “Kill the rest. We will show no mercy to these men.”

----------------------
Palma, Balaeres
---------------------

The waters were on fire, as merchants screamed in furious anger, over the assault which was about to be waged upon their fleets. A flotilla of ships, from Carthage, had nearly reached the port of Palma, when they had been intercepted and assaulted by voracious pirates. Or so the pirates thought.
Merchants ran about on deck, shouting orders in great crescendos of frustration and fear, as the pirates neared. A small flotilla of easily maneuverable triremes and quinquiremes approached the still waters, as the fleet of sitting ducks tried to resist futility. The rogue captains shouted in excitement, directing their oarsmen to speed the assault over the area.
It was as though the gods had placed before them, the perfect opportunity. A plethora of ships, fat from the wealth they carried, sat like foolish sheep upon an open plain, awaiting the attack of the treacherous wolves that loomed. The pirates exclaimed their communications to one another, on each ship, in a handful of different languages and dialects.

The approaching battle was painfully slow. With no engines, the ships moved silently, and even a swift pace forced eons to pass before the vessels were engaged. Men leaped from mast to mast, redirecting rope and sail. Shouts were heard, closer and closer, as the poor merchants lamented to the gods.
As the first of the ships came within reach of their booty, the most notable captains caught sight of the sudden appearance of dozens more predatory vessels on the plane. Slowly, the merchant vessels began churning their oars, forcing the trade ships back towards the port, which was only a skip away at the edge of the Bay.
Still, the pirate vessels pursued. If it was a port rape they wished, it was a port rape they’d receive. The slow chase was beginning, as the creeping trade ships attempted to outrun their smaller and more maneuverable counterparts.
Caught up in the thrill of the chase, and their own numerical and class superiority, the pirates failed to respond to the odd flotilla of ships which approached from east and west, simultaneously, from around the edges of the bay. The port was in view, and the first of the merchants were beginning to dock…

Screams of horror and panic reverberated over the still sea, as the first of the rogue vessels rammed their prey. Pirates unsheathed swords, laughed with toothy grins, and forced themselves upon their treasure.
Those on neighboring vessels immediately heard shouts of shock and retreat, as violence began filling the air for those pirates who had made the first of many fatal errors. As the pirates moved across great planks to board the merchant vessels, they were, at first, greeted with the usual screams and cries of their civilian opponents. After only several seconds of being on board, however, they were faced with a wall of vicious iron, as Roman sailors, disguised as oarsman and trader, rushed forward to assault their attackers.
Neptune laughed and danced, as horrid battles began erupting on each pirate vessel which made the mistake of locking with merchant. The criminals, not formally trained in combat technique, were immediately shocked, pressed back, and overwhelmed by their soldier opponents, who fought with such stunning calculation and discipline that the micro battles on each ship were over within minutes. After a time, many a pirate vessel was overrun, and taken by imperial officers.

Most of the pirate vessels, who had not yet engaged the dummy merchant fleet, were unable to turn from the danger in time, for the Classis Alexandretta had already swarmed over much of the place. Hours before, the ships had been carefully concealed along the outskirts of the bay which surrounded the harbor. Officers had been ordered to place their ships in hiding places, all along the rocky shoreline, and in the port, to wait for the attack. Merchant vessels were sent out to carouse around the shipping lanes, each boat holding dozens of legionnaires.
The swarms of vessels attracted the attention of pirates in the vicinity, who immediately calculated numbers, and began recklessly attacking their fleeing prey. As boats deliberately moved into the safety of the bay, the Classis received signals to swarm into the caged waters. Orders had been given to the captains of each imperial vessel, to utilize man-power to overwhelm the skirting rogues. Ships were rammed, boarded, and overtaken.
Within just two hours, the conflict was over. The majority of the pirate fleet had been taken. For the first time, in quite a long time, one of the western ports of the Roman Empire had been saved from pirate invasion.
Most importantly, the criminals were ordered to be kept alive, if possible. The Fleet Commander had business with them.

-----------------------
Pollentia, Balaeres
-----------------------

The clouds growled with anger, over the tiny archipelago that made up Balaeres. Its position in the Western Mediterranean made it a safe stopping-point for many trade ships. And so, many inns, bars, and brothels lined the perimeters of the largest rocky island, to accommodate the many transients who stopped to rest and trade before moving on to Iberia, or Africa.
Maximus and his entourage of soldiers moved through the narrow streets that made up the city of Pollentia. Few slums could be found, as the city’s revenue was high due to its relatively wealthy equite inhabitants. Prostitutes flashed passers-by with wide, toothy grins. Phalluses were inscribed in the cobblestones of the streets, indicating where the nearest brothels were located. The smell of bread and wine flowed through the upper-stories of many buildings.
On this day, the streets were relatively empty. It was late in the afternoon, and the weather was bad. Men took to their atriums to entertain guests, as lower-class shopkeepers and artisans began shutting down for the evening. At every other intersection, children played dominoes and screamed at one another in great jovial outbursts, as the Roman entourage pressed through.

“This is the place, sir,” said a tribune, as he pointed to the gates of a villa.
Maximus only gave a slight nod, and immediately his soldiers moved to its gates. Two lightly armed guards stopped the men from moving further. “You cannot pass, gentlemen, without an appointment.”
The officers looked to the Senator, who slowly and confidently approached. Maximus removed his cloak, to reveal the eastern cuirass he sported. He motioned to the lictors who stood to his rear. “I am the Praetor Fortunus Maximus Julianus, Commander of the Classis Alexandretta and an agent of the Emperor Sarius Vitellius and the Senate and People of Rome.”
Immediately the guards’ faces went cold, as they realized the gravity of the situation. Maximus did not wait for a response. “I am here to arrest your master, Gnaeus Minianus, for utilizing his own private fleets and contacts to organize piracy in vast swaths of the west of Our Sea. Under the imperium granted to me by law, I order you to open these gates.”

The small-time guards looked to one another, as several more guards approached the area. As Maximus stood, firm in his resolve, dozens more legionnaires arrived on the spot. The handful of guards looked to the extensive growth of soldiers on the spot, as their numbers swelled beyond forty.
The bold guard, tall and skinny, was now taken aback, and clearly unsure of what to do. With a swallow, he nodded to Maximus. “And… and how am I supposed to know you’re really a senator?”
Maximus rolled his eyes, and looked to the other guard. “Listen, this guy’s an imbecile. Those gates are going to be opened one way or another. He’s gong to be crucified, and if you don’t open them, so will you, so why don’t you just-”
Immediately the guards scrambled to open up the gates, as the lanky fellow turned white as snow.
Tribunes entered the premises, and the multitude of guards were held back, as Maximus was let inward.
An airy, well-decorated atrium greeted the Senator’s senses, as he moved up the narrow staircase to the upper offices, with his soldiers. In one room was a pair of children playing. Several nude girls dashed from one hall to another, as the commander moved deeper into the residence.
Finally, they came upon a large office. Maximus offered a gentle knock. A muffled response came from inside. “Not now, I’m busy.”
Maximus smiled to his guards, and rapped again.
“Not now, you idiot,” answered the voice.
Maximus knocked again, and jiggled the door-handle. No response came from inside.
Another knock, and the man inside grumbled more. “I said, not now!”
“Housekeeping,” mocked Maximus.
Evidently, Minianus did not find the words humorous. Sounds of grumbles, growls, and shuffling erupted inside, as the man made his way to the door.
In an instant, the doors swung open, and Maximus faced a heavy-set bald man, whose expression was immediately baffled. “Who the hell-”
Maximus struck the man in the nose. Minianus fell backward, onto the floor, as the Senator came to stand over him. “You are under the arrest for pirating the waters of Our Sea, using your own vessels and man-power.”
“What is the meaning of-”
In an instant, several guards entered the place, and took Gnaeus Minianus by the arms. Large shackles were placed over his limbs, and he was immediately led from the place, as he shouted in anger and confusion.

--------------------------------------
Months Later
Somewhere in the Tyrhennian
---------------------------------------

The blue-green waters seemed less inviting each day. Maximus turned from the sea, to admire the rocky coast of what would one day be Liguria. He was finally near Italia.
He had been at sea for longer than he would have cared for. The beauty and quiet of the ocean had lost its taste, as he spent more and more time pursuing his mission.
Utilizing Bokiar and his contacts, Maximus had been able to track down certain make-shift harbors and prey-areas which small-time pirates had been using. As he caught more and more criminals on the sea, he convinced them, through torture and bribe, to get to the bigger crime-bosses who had thousands of sesterces and resources invested in the lucrative business.
And so, Maximus was able to combat piracy on the sea with the presence of his fleet. Simultaneously, through painstaking research, interrogation, and utilization of contacts, he was able to hunt down many an equite who was orchestrating attacks. Gnaeus Minanius, and many wealthy men like him, were arrested to be brought back to Rome to stand before the courts.
As the private flotilla skirted along the Italian peninsula, Maximus looked to the west. In a matter of several months, the fleet had moved from Carthago Nova, to what seemed like hundreds of cities and ports between Iberia and Africa.
After several prominent engagements, much patrolling, and heavy investigative work, the Senator hoped and prayed that the Western Mediterranean was at peace.
Leaving the Classis Alexandretta to do regular patrols in the West under tribunes appointed by him, Fortunus Maximus Julianus was ready to come home.

Written by: Fortunus Maximus Julianus