Son of Julius Caesar: Rebuilding Rome [Business/Republic building] Chapter 31 : Talent

Ro wasn’t built in a day.

It’s a saying people love to toss around.

But the real question is: who actually built it?

Who raised the colossal Colosseum, erected the grand temples, and paved the endless roads that the Roman legions marched upon?

The Senate? The Caesar?

Neither.

It was the engineers.

They were the ones trailing the legions, throwing up bridges, digging trenches, and fortifying camps in a single day.

They were the ones who designed structures ant to stand for centuries.

The bedrock of the Roman Republic—and eventually, the Empire—was laid by the hands of these specialists.

"And we’re going to be facing a chronic shortage of them for our future businesses. I can’t keep leaning on Vitruvius for everything."

"So your solution is to build a school for them?"

Felix stared down at the numbers scrawled on the papyrus with a look of mild concern.

"A school that teaches mathematics, geotry, dicine, and even astronomy? When you said you were founding a school, Young Master, I assud you’d be teaching rhetoric or sothing equally high-brow."

"Rhetoric has its place, but right now, I need builders," I replied.

The construction of the Palmolive factory had proven one thing: a single genius like Vitruvius makes life easy.

But relying on one man was not a good choice.

To pull off the scale of operations I had in mind, I needed dozens, if not hundreds, of professional technicians—Caesar’s engineers, capable of building anything I set before them.

The problem was that Ro didn’t have technical schools.

It only had the apprenticeship system, and that took far too long.

"We’ll recruit applicants through an entrance exam, teach them the skills, and pay them a wage while they learn."

"Wait. You’re going to *pay* the students?"

Felix nearly spat out his water.

"Young Master, schools are supposed to take money from students. Not the other way around."

"We’re buying loyalty, Felix," I said firmly. "The school doesn’t need to turn a profit."

The Caesar Technical School.

Students who entered would be contractually obligated to work for for five years after graduation.

It wasn’t slavery; it was a high-tier career path with guaranteed high wages.

For a commoner with a knack for chanics, it was a dream deal: get paid to learn a trade without worrying about your next al, with a job waiting for you at the end.

For , it was a steal.

"Ro is crawling with geniuses. I just need to make sure they’re my geniuses."

The city had a population of about a million.

Even if only 0.01% were top-tier, that was still a hundred people. My academy needed to be the bait that reeled them in.

And once I had them, I had no intention of letting go.

"I’ll make them my clients. They’ll receive their education thanks to my patronage."

Roman society was built on the patron-client relationship.

You support soone long-term, and in return, they owe you their life and their vote.

This wasn’t a business. It was patronage.

And patronage in Ro lasted a lifeti.

"The recruitnt might be an issue, though," Felix noted. "Even if we hire a praeco (herald), it’ll be hard to get the word out to the whole city."

I nodded.

This was the one area where ancient life was a massive pain in the ass.

In the 21st century, I could have sent a smartphone notification and reached the entire continent in real-ti.

Now, I had to manually hunt people down.

A herald in the Forum was fine for a general product, but a technical school wasn’t interesting news enough to go viral on its own.

"I’ll need to put so more thought into that."

Just then, my mother’s voice rang through the house.

"Lucius! Co to my room."

"Coming, mother!"

Felix and I left the room and headed for the atrium.

For the past few days, mother had been in a frenzy of banquet preparations—a grand unveiling of the new "Premium Palmolive" for the noblewon of Ro.

When I stepped into the atrium, my jaw hit the floor.

"This is... wow."

"Not bad, is it?" Mother asked, approaching with a satisfied smile.

"It’s incredible," was all I could manage.

The entire atrium was draped in a kaleidoscope of petals—violets, lilies, and more violets.

It looked less like a house and more like a royal garden.

But the centerpiece was the real showstopper: the roses.

Deep red roses dominated the space, their presence so overwhelming they made every other flower look like a footnote.

It was a masterpiece of visual composition.

"I don’t think there’s a better event designer in all of Ro than you, mother."

"Event designer? What’s that supposed to an?" she asked, adjusting a stray bloom.

"A term I coined for your particular set of skills. The old words didn’t seem to do you justice."

"Who do you think handled the design of shows when your father was an Aedile?" Mother laughed. "Your father has a talent for throwing money, but he’s utterly hopeless at making things look pretty."

"Compared to you, most people are talentless."

"Oh, hush. Flattery won’t get you anything," she said, patting my back. "Go change into your new toga and wait. The guests will be here soon."

"I thought this event was strictly for the ladies?"

"Which is exactly why I need you there." She handed an amphora of Palmolive. "You don’t think they’re coming here just to look at flowers, do you? You’re the main attraction today, Lucius. I need you looking—and slling—your best."

She inspected my face and physique as if checking the quality of a prized stallion.

"I’ve set aside so special rose oil for your bath. Go soak. Good looks are important, but in this circle, scent is everything."

I didn’t know whether to laugh or be impressed.

My own mother was using as the "hero product" of her marketing campaign.

Ro’s high society was indeed a jungle.

A jungle that slled like roses, apparently.

***

The guests arrived in a seemingly endless stream.

It was the largest crowd I’d seen since being born into the House of Caesar.

I was pretty sure we didn’t even have this many people when my father left for Hispania.

From the wives of powerful senators to high-ranking equestrian ladies and even the Vestalis Maxima (Chief Vestal), Miria—everyone gasped as they entered the atrium.

"It’s breathtaking! I haven’t seen this many petals since the last Floralia. Cornelia, you’ve outdone yourself."

"So many roses in one place... this must have cost a fortune."

The guests poured out complints as they handed over their gifts.

As the man of the house, I stood by mother’s side to greet them.

"Lucius Caesar, you’ve truly made a na for yourself. Passing a law at such a young age is unheard of."

"I rely played my part. The people of Ro made the decision, and Pompey Magnus was kind enough to lend his support."

"I heard Pompey has a history with your father. It’s good to see he’s fond of you as well."

Once the greetings were finished, the guests mingled in the atrium.

I noticed several won pulling mother aside to offer sheepish apologies.

"I spoke to my husband about that matter, but it seems it will be difficult for him to move the Senate..."

"My husband is just too stubborn. I hope you understand, Cornelia..."

I realized these were the won Mother had "lobbied" using the original Palmolive as bait.

Now that the recipe was going public and Palmolive would soon be everywhere, they were trying to back out of the promises they’d made to her.

Mother accepted their apologies with practiced grace and a knowing smile.

Once everyone had gathered, it was ti to move to the triclinium for dinner.

"Ladies, I want to thank you all for joining today," Mother announced, standing in the center of the atrium.

She gestured toward . "As you all know, my son Lucius Julius Caesar created Palmolive through a revelation from the Goddess Vesta."

Every eye in the room locked onto . I felt my face start to heat up.

Mother then pointed to Miria, the Chief Vestal.

"Today’s banquet is a celebration of our gratitude to the Goddess. And I have a special gift for all of you..."

At her signal, slaves filed out, each carrying an amphora.

"Wait, what is that...?"

"It’s beautiful. Just beautiful"

The won stared at the jars. These amphoras had a distinct reddish hue, shimring like a polished rose.

They looked nothing like the standard clay jars.

"To commorate today’s banquet, Lucius has created a *new* Palmolive. It’s crafted from the rarest, most sacred ingredients, with the charming scent and color of the rose."

The won took the amphoras, their eyes wide with awe.

This was the premium line—a luxury item entirely distinct from the common Palmolive.

The noblewon in this room didn’t want to use the sa Palmolive as the plebeians.

And since I was the only one who could make "divinely inspired" premium version, holding an amphora was a status symbol that put them ahead of their social rivals.

As I was lost in my own thoughts, soone approached .

"Receiving a direct revelation from Vesta... how extraordinary. Tell , Young Caesar. What did the Goddess look like?"

I turned and felt a montary jolt.

Standing before was a woman in a striking red stola that contrasted sharply with the white robes of the Vestals.

With her perfectly styled hair and flawless skin, she was a beauty by any era’s standards.

"Lady Servilia."

Servilia. A mber of the noble Patrician House of Servilius.

But that wasn’t why she was famous.

"Unfortunately, I couldn’t see her form clearly. There was only her voice and a light so bright it was blinding."

"The beauty of the gods is often too perfect for us mortals to behold," she replied with a sultry smile. "You’ve truly done well for yourself, Young Caesar. My own son, Brutus, spends all his ti buried in history records, accomplishing nothing. To think soone his age has already done so much is impressive."

"Studying literature, history, and philosophy is a noble pursuit in its own right," I replied.

Servilia was the mother of Brutus.

Marcus Junius Brutus. The man immortalized by Shakespeare’s famous line, "Et tu, Brute?".

In history, Brutus was a symbol of betrayal, but also a symbol of unshakeable conviction in defense of the Republic.

Objectively speaking, though, he was mostly a political idiot.

As I pondered this, Servilia stepped closer.

"You’ve inherited your father’s striking features. Even that fair skin of his. Your mother must be so proud."

Her hand brushed against my arm, just barely.

Wait.

Is she... flirting with ?

Before I could say a word, a shadow fell over us.

"Servilia, there you are. I was looking for you to give you your Palmolive."

At Mother’s sudden appearance, Servilia stepped back slowly.

"Oh, my apologies, Cornelia. I was just having a lovely chat with your son. It was a truly engaging conversation, Young Caesar."

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Servilia."

"Let’s move to the triclinium, shall we? The feast is ready," Mother said with a razor-sharp smile. "I’ve even set aside so of that Sicilian wine you’re so fond of."

"Thank you, Cornelia. How thoughtful of you."

The two won stared at each other in silence.

They were both smiling, but the atmosphere was absolute zero.

Finally, Servilia walked away, leaving alone with mother.

"That vixen in heat," Mother hissed.

I winced. I’d never heard her use that kind of language before.

"Was she trying to seduce you?"

"It seed that way. Though you arrived before anything started." Not that I was going to fall for it, anyway.

"That woman had her claws in your father too. She almost succeeded once. I had to step in just in ti."

"Co to think of it, there was a week once where you two didn’t speak to each other at all."

So that’s what that was about.

My father, Caesar, was a walking magnet for won, and they sward him like flies.

"Many n have been ruined by the thing between their legs, Lucius. Never forget that."

"It’s not like I can just cut it off, Mother."

"You sound exactly like your father," she said, finally breaking into a laugh. "Now, co. Our guests are waiting. We can’t have the star of the show missing, can we?"

"I thought the new Palmolive was the star of the show."

"You’ve shaken Ro to its core over the last few months, Lucius. You have everyone’s attention. This is the perfect ti to start looking for a bride."

"..."

Right. That was a thing.

In Ro, engagents and marriages usually happened before the age of twenty.

Now that I was technically an adult, it was ti to consider it. That must have been why Pompey asked the question on the last day of the assembly.

"I’m not so sure, mother."

Coming from the 21st century, I still had a natural aversion to political marriages.

No matter how important the alliance, can a marriage really last without love?

"You said you’d do anything to protect this family. Marriage is one of the most vital parts of that duty." Mother patted my arm playfully. "Besides, I need to find you a proper match before vixens like Servilia lure you away."

Just as we were heading toward the triclinium, there was a knock at the main gate.

"Ah, a few people hadn’t arrived yet. Must be the latecors."

Felix opened the door, and a woman led a small entourage inside.

She wore a lavish red stola, similar to Servilia’s, and carried herself with a cheerful, confident air.

I recognized her imdiately.

"Lucius! I’ve missed you!" Atia cried out in a vibrant voice. "Cornelia, how have you been? I’m so sorry I’m late; there was a big crowd on the way."

"Welco, Atia," Mother replied, and the two shared a warm embrace.

Atia was the daughter of my father’s sister. We had seen each other often since I was a child.

"Lucius, look how much you’ve grown! I swear, I can’t go anywhere in Ro without hearing your na nowadays. It makes so proud."

"You flatter , Atia."

I gave her a polite hug. Atia was a delightful person to be around, always full of energy.

But the reason I liked her went beyond her personality.

"I’ve brought my son along today for a change. It’s been a while since you two t at my house, hasn’t it?"

"It has."

I looked at the toddler behind Atia, who was currently being held by a wet nurse.

He looked to be about three years old.

"Co here, darling. Octavianus, say hello to your cousin Lucius."

The toddler walked forward and looked up at with curious eyes. I reached out and scooped him into my arms.

This child was the one.

In the original tiline, this little boy was destined to beco the first Emperor of the Roman Empire.

"Hello, Octavianus. It’s been a long ti."