minutes.
He wanted the hour to break the news to his son.
Lepidus threw his pack into the back seat of the courier’s aero-flyer and then sat in the front. The courier climbed into the pilot's seat on the right and sealed the doors. He tapped some keys on his controls, and the flyer rose smoothly above Lepidus’s Ostia villa without a sound or a bump of turbulence. Lepidus shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare off the Mare Mediterranean to the west. The courier rotated the flyer so it pointed east, and then it shot over the Tiber River toward Roma.
Within two minutes, the flyer sped into Roma’s air space. Lepidus’s awe never lessened each time he flew above the Eternal City. He made out all Seven Hills, the homes of wealthy patricians covering them all. Most prominent among the Hills was the Capitoline, where the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus towered above all other buildings in Roma. Its columns gleamed white in the sun, and its bas-reliefs along the top displayed colorful images of the god who had made Roma capitol of Terra and most of human space. The Senate House stood nearby. Though smaller than the Temple, it was no less grand with its circular structure, columned arches, and twenty-foot high statues of Roma’s greatest politicians.
In the Suburba valleys between the Seven Hills rose the plebeian tenements and commercial towers. Most had classical Roman facades: lots of columns, arches, orange tiled roofs, with bas-reliefs on the larger banks and merchant offices. Though not as beautiful as the historic and grand structures of the Seven Hills, the plebeian buildings had their own simple beauty that showed the practicality of Roman citizens.
The courier circled above a rooftop landing pad adjacent to the Temple. “When we land, Evocatus, I will escort you to the private office of the Pontifex Maximus. He will give you further instructions.”
“What is my mission?” Lepidus asked mostly to himself as he watched the city.
“I do not have the information you request. The Pontifex Maximus will explain the mission.”
Lepidus nodded, expecting nothing more from the golem.
Once the courier landed the flyer, he unsealed the doors and stepped out. Lepidus slung his pack over his shoulder and followed the courier off the windy pad toward the guard station. Two Capitoline Triad Custudae, dressed in black jumpsuits and with pulse rifles slung over the shoulders, stood at attention on either side of the guard station door. They wore round Capitoline Triad patches on their arms—the white faces of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva on a dark blue field with gold trim—rather than the black togas and red-plumed, gold helmets the Custudae wore at the Temple’s public doors.
The guards did not move as the courier walked past them into the station. Inside, another Custudae at a console desk handed an identicard to Lepidus.
“Sir, please press your thumb here,” the Custudae said, holding a thumb pad out to him. Lepidus did so, and then looked at the indenticard. The small card blinked, and then his picture and name displayed. Lepidus frowned, uncomfortable with having his arrival recorded. At least the card didn’t show his name, only his Evocatus rank. His name had been classified years ago.
The courier led Lepidus to an elevator, and they took it down to the sixth floor. They walked down an ornate hallway with frescoes, statues, and portraits of the gods lining the walls on either side. Red curtains hung next to the multiple windows on the left and right, golden sunlight illuminating the hall. At the end of the corridor, the courier guided Lepidus onto a balcony above the Temple’s main floor. Below were hundreds of worshipers on their knees surrounding two flamens standing on a raised dais. The flamens wore white tunics with blue togas and waved incense burners over a chained pig in the dais’ sacrificial pit. The flamens chanted an old Latin hymn asking Minerva for a bountiful harvest in the coming autumn
He wanted the hour to break the news to his son.
Lepidus threw his pack into the back seat of the courier’s aero-flyer and then sat in the front. The courier climbed into the pilot's seat on the right and sealed the doors. He tapped some keys on his controls, and the flyer rose smoothly above Lepidus’s Ostia villa without a sound or a bump of turbulence. Lepidus shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare off the Mare Mediterranean to the west. The courier rotated the flyer so it pointed east, and then it shot over the Tiber River toward Roma.
Within two minutes, the flyer sped into Roma’s air space. Lepidus’s awe never lessened each time he flew above the Eternal City. He made out all Seven Hills, the homes of wealthy patricians covering them all. Most prominent among the Hills was the Capitoline, where the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus towered above all other buildings in Roma. Its columns gleamed white in the sun, and its bas-reliefs along the top displayed colorful images of the god who had made Roma capitol of Terra and most of human space. The Senate House stood nearby. Though smaller than the Temple, it was no less grand with its circular structure, columned arches, and twenty-foot high statues of Roma’s greatest politicians.
In the Suburba valleys between the Seven Hills rose the plebeian tenements and commercial towers. Most had classical Roman facades: lots of columns, arches, orange tiled roofs, with bas-reliefs on the larger banks and merchant offices. Though not as beautiful as the historic and grand structures of the Seven Hills, the plebeian buildings had their own simple beauty that showed the practicality of Roman citizens.
The courier circled above a rooftop landing pad adjacent to the Temple. “When we land, Evocatus, I will escort you to the private office of the Pontifex Maximus. He will give you further instructions.”
“What is my mission?” Lepidus asked mostly to himself as he watched the city.
“I do not have the information you request. The Pontifex Maximus will explain the mission.”
Lepidus nodded, expecting nothing more from the golem.
Once the courier landed the flyer, he unsealed the doors and stepped out. Lepidus slung his pack over his shoulder and followed the courier off the windy pad toward the guard station. Two Capitoline Triad Custudae, dressed in black jumpsuits and with pulse rifles slung over the shoulders, stood at attention on either side of the guard station door. They wore round Capitoline Triad patches on their arms—the white faces of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva on a dark blue field with gold trim—rather than the black togas and red-plumed, gold helmets the Custudae wore at the Temple’s public doors.
The guards did not move as the courier walked past them into the station. Inside, another Custudae at a console desk handed an identicard to Lepidus.
“Sir, please press your thumb here,” the Custudae said, holding a thumb pad out to him. Lepidus did so, and then looked at the indenticard. The small card blinked, and then his picture and name displayed. Lepidus frowned, uncomfortable with having his arrival recorded. At least the card didn’t show his name, only his Evocatus rank. His name had been classified years ago.
The courier led Lepidus to an elevator, and they took it down to the sixth floor. They walked down an ornate hallway with frescoes, statues, and portraits of the gods lining the walls on either side. Red curtains hung next to the multiple windows on the left and right, golden sunlight illuminating the hall. At the end of the corridor, the courier guided Lepidus onto a balcony above the Temple’s main floor. Below were hundreds of worshipers on their knees surrounding two flamens standing on a raised dais. The flamens wore white tunics with blue togas and waved incense burners over a chained pig in the dais’ sacrificial pit. The flamens chanted an old Latin hymn asking Minerva for a bountiful harvest in the coming autumn
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