Here is a short story that I wrote for my book. Please let me know what you guys think of it. This story is from the view point of the "author" of the historical portion of the book I've posted on this forum before. If anyone would like to submit stories from my TL let me know because I'd like to start a thread for the stories I am going to be writing and eventually combining with the historical portions to create a novel that I hope to actually publish one day. Also, I haven't edited this thing yet, so there may very well be some mistakes in it, if you catch any, let me know. Thank you again to all of my readers.
XVI November 2756 AUC, PM 18:34
Heraclea, Bithynia: Imperium Romanum
Academae Bithynia
The sound was nearly intolerable. The low, steady sound of his voice droned on about some insignificant historical fact, one that he believed held the greatest of importance in our minds, yet in reality simply served to further drain the energy from our nearly lifeless bodies. For almost two hours Dr. Censius had continued, without regard for the utter despair in his classroom, about the significance of the Neo-Republican movement in the factions of the Imperial Senate of the early 21st Century AUC. The drab color of the room, a ridiculously small rectangular space completely devoid of decoration or of anything remotely related to excitement, did not help our situation, as many of us simply gave up hope of leaving before the onset of the storm approaching from the west.
“And it is important to remember my friends that the most profound effect of the revolt of the Agnetian colonies was to inspire the next generation of imperial lawmakers that dire changes needed to be made to the existing Imperial order and particularly the inefficient nature of many of the legislative procedures. Though these badly needed changes would not…”
Dr. Censius trailed off and muttered some profoundly important piece of information that no doubt would find its way onto our next essay test – just four days away – though somehow managed to completely bypass our ears, disappearing somewhere among the atoms making up the air in the room, never to exist in the same form again. Though many of us tried in vain to hear the good (yet incredibly boring) doctor, we all failed miserably to understand what this master of history had wished to impart into our young, malleable minds.
“One can clearly see”, Dr. Censius whispered, as if only he existed in the cramped room, “that the idea of complete equality between citizens and non-citizens, between those of privileged birth and those of the plebs was a pressing issue of the day. Though many Senators, including Consul Gnaeus Bantius, clearly articulated the need for a change in the ascendancy of citizenship from the old imperial system to that more approaching the New Republic of Rome, none were able to bring enough votes to the Senate floor to exact the change that was needed. According to the history of Tiberius Axumite, “the Consul…”
Once again the learned doctor trailed off into obscurity, surely making some epiphanous statement that no doubt would have changed the world – had anyone had the ability to actually hear his profound words. “Perhaps some canine wondering outside would pick up his words, though he too would probably be lulled to sleep by the sheer boredom resonating from the doctor’s mouth”, I thought to myself as I pondered what the rest of my night would bring.
Suddenly a horrifyingly loud sound erupted from behind me, startling me from my deep thoughts. I jolted the desk so hard that my drink spilled on the old wooden floor and found its way onto the skirt of the cutest woman in the class, Julia Avidius Maccalus, the daughter of the Decanus of the School of History here at the Academae. I panicked and fumbled around, trying desperately to find a handkerchief or other article of cloth to dry the mess before the attention of the good doctor could be focused completely on me. My efforts did not pay off however, as the doctor quickly announced, “seeing as how Aerokius is so excited about my lecture that he finds it necessary to throw his drink to convey his uncontrollable enthusiasm, I believe it is time to dismiss class before anyone else explodes with joy about the development of…”
This time Censius did not have to mutter ingenious statements of world-shattering importance that everyone struggled to hear, as the sound of twenty students shuffling and stampeding out of the tiny classroom completely drowned out any sound emanating from the old man. I tried to recover my dignity and exit the room without incident, but of course the doctor interrupted my hurried efforts by asking me to stop by his desk on my way out.
I reluctantly shuffled past the thin row of desks in the center of the room, nearly slipping on the wet floor twice before reaching the doctor's desk. He motioned for me to come closer as I approached his desk and said, “Ah, the best student in the class...I wish I had more students like you, as it would definitely make my job a great deal easier. I wanted to tell you that I began looking over the rough draft of your dissertation outline and was immediately struck by the structure and eloquence of it. Anyhow, I wanted to impart on you the importance of bringing together an all-encompassing theme to your work. It seems that your dissertation outline is a mighty stallion, trampling through the past works of lesser student authors, but without any discernible direction. Before bringing your topic before the committee, you need to converge all of your wandering ideas into an over-arching theme. You should put some thought into your first sentence, for it is through this first sentence that you shall find your way through the darkness of dissertation writing, ha! That was almost a good joke...Have a good evening Aerokius, and do try to stay dry!”
I thanked the doctor and moved quickly to exit the room before he could think of something else brilliant to say to me. I rushed through the ancient and intimidating corridors of the Academae, trying desperately to get back to my apartment before the menacing storm unleashed the unrivaled power of nature on the streets of Heraclea, an ancient town in Bithynia. I was the only student left in the long, dimly lit hallway and the sharp echoes of my steps against the shiny marble floor was quite unnerving. I looked around in my rush toward the front of the building, gazing quickly from painting to painting. As if the tall Romano-Gothic columns and arches lining the School's central hallway weren't daunting enough, the gigantic paintings hanging on either side of the massive stone walls filled me with a sense of foreboding that seemed to consume all of the courage not already shaken by the formidable architecture surrounding me on all sides.
I began to look at the floor, hoping to avoid the eyes of those painted on the massive canvases hanging over the hallway, when suddenly a glimmer on the floor caught my eye. Disregarding my rather juvenile fear of the Academae's magnificent atrium (for I have stalked these hallways many times in the past several years and truly there was no real reason to be frightened, even in twilight), I instinctively gazed upwards toward the inner side of the painted dome above the center of the room. Though I had seen (and admired) this painting by Guido Oporhanius Auxentius, the highly gifted 17th Century AUC Silver Age Gothic painter, I had never truly taken the time to appreciate the shear magnificence of the work or its inherent “heaviness” upon the atmosphere of the atrium.
For years now it had struck me as rather odd that a place of academia, particularly one more devoted to the development of science and business systems would display a historical painting, much less one so obscure as Parthia Naked Before the Mighty Caesar. It seemed to me that only a true fan of Auxentius and a lover of the Silver Age of Gothic art could genuinely appreciate the back-breaking detail and agonizing raw power of the theme of the painting, emphasized by the desperation and complete capitulation of the noblemen of Parthia at the feet of Caesar, highest among them the son of the “Scourge of the East”, the last Parthian king, Ghriapatius. Never before (though I am a huge fan of Auxentius and his many works) had I really given the painting at the top of the atrium much thought, so consumed in my life's work and not being late for class, that I often paid the painting as much attention as everyone else – admittedly no where near the admiration it deserved.
I found myself inexplicably drawn into the painting, as if I was a legionnaire in one of Caesar's mighty legions, standing adjacent to him on that stormy day at Hecatompylos nearly twenty-one centuries earlier. It was as if I could feel the shear dominance of Caesar and his unequaled presence or the utter hopelessness inundating the bodies of the exhausted and humbled noblemen, each of which just years earlier had probably owned more land than the men of an entire legion contemporary to their time. For a moment I felt that I was surely in the midst of history itself, and that should I be so bold as to bury a knife into Caesar at that very moment (or perhaps simply imagine such a macabre action), history itself would change and I would, at that very instant, be standing in a completely different world from the one I now presently inhabit.
And it was at this very same moment, among the lifeless figures painted onto the scene some forty feet above me, that I was stunned by an epiphany so obvious, so excruciatingly simple, that I contemplated kicking myself at the very fact that I had not hitherto considered this thought in all of the time I had spent over the past few months trying in vain to think of the very thought that was now flooding my mind. “Of course!”, I proclaimed to myself as I studied the stern and confident look on Caesar's face.
“Gaius Julius Caesar, of course he is the answer! He can be the “over-arching theme” Dr. Censius was talking about!” I forced myself to look away from the enigmatic and powerful image painted above me and I continued quickly toward the front door of the Brocconian School of Science and History, one of the oldest buildings on campus. Rushing through the door, I was completely caught off guard by the violent force of the wind heralding the coming of the massive storm predicted several days earlier by the Imperial Weather Service. The scene was even more intimidating than the dimly lit corridor of the Brocconian and I moved with much haste to avoid the debris flying around me. For a moment it seemed as though the trees in the court yard had conspired to take me out, as I dodged numerous sticks and branches falling from the trees under the force of the wind. A mangled street sign began to heave back and forth from the power of the growing storm, its pole visibly straining to keep the sign upright.
I turned to the right onto the via Academae Occidia, one of the four central roads dissecting campus into four squares, and ran quickly toward the Library located on the western end of the campus where I had stupidly decided earlier to leave my new ten-speed birotae. For some reason now unknown to even myself, I had decided earlier in the day (because the sun was out for the majority of the morning) to park my birotae at the Library rather than the Bocconian. I now regretted the decision and it was certainly true now that the leisurely walk which I earlier enjoyed from the Library to the School of Science and History was, in hindsight, definitely not worth the trouble I was now experiencing in returning to the Library.
Upon arriving at the Bibliotheca Felissimus, named after the founder and first Magister Praeceptor of the great Academy, Marcus Baebius Felissimus, I unlocked my birotae from the securing rack and peddled as quickly as my legs would allow back to my apartment on the via Augusta. I struggled the entire distance back to my apartment to keep balance against the ridiculously strong wind which buffeted me constantly on my right side. I managed to reach my apartment in the Old District of town just as sprinkles of water, foreshadowing the deluge to come, began falling from the darkened sky.
I fumbled for the key card to my apartment building, finally managing to wrestle the card loose from the jumble of receipts and coins stuffed tightly into my front left pocket. Entering the heavy glass door, I exhaled a loud sigh of relief as I was finally free of the spiteful wind blowing incessantly outside, bringing forth the wrath of nature. “Well, I suppose I should work on that dissertation now...I hope the electricity doesn't go out before I can at least work out these thoughts racing through my head. Yes! Julius Caesar, the assassination attempt on his life, his wars, the Imperial Constitution! Why did I not think of these things earlier!?! So much to do, please Jupiter do not let the power go out tonight!”