The Senate’s Plan- Complete Version

Chapter 1

Magnus Carnatus didn’t want to be Emperor of the Roman Empire, in fact, he only decided to become a candidate to boost his military career. As the son of a really influential patrician family, he was already a commander, but his heart claimed the ultimatum General position… Which would be basically handed to him after his campaign.
Being only twenty two years of age, Magnus wasn’t even considering he would get to the final election, the favorite candidate was Claudius Ceasare and he was gathering allies left and right… But fatum had other plans for him. The young commander was unaware of the Senate newest secret plan, they weren’t looking for a experienced militar man to rule the empire to greatness, like Julius Caesar… They wanted a puppet, someone they could control and influence to rule according to their wants… Turns out, Magnus was the epitome of their needs.
At a really cloudy and windy morning, Magnus was standing next to Claudius and Silvestros, the two other candidates, in the Curia, while the council of elders were counting the votes . He was fully prepared and had already written down his speech, congratulations Claudius and wishing him the best fortune during his rule… But as soon as the bells rang and the councilor started speaking, his expression changed to utter surprise and fear. He was elected by the Senate as the new Roman Emperor, being called Emperor Magnus Augustus from now on.
He was dragged to the podium as Senator Octavian crowned him with the corona, a golden crown shaped like leaves. Everyone was staring at him waiting for his acceptance speech, every smirk, whisper and side eyes felt like daggers stabbing his ribs. Magnus looked to the statue of Justita and started basically babbling:
“It is the highest honor to rule over our empire” He was sweating like a pig, his tunic was probably all stained “I pledge to… to… to be the greatest emperor I can and to expand the realm by war and blood… humm… Veni, vidi, vici!!”
All the senators started applauding him and cheering, he could hear they all scream in unison “Vivat imperator!”, but it all became a blur, he was only able to nod and smile as his opponents were giving him their congratulations speech. When all the traditional ceremonies were done, he was escorted by a bunch of guards to his new golden chariot, he saw so many commoners cheering and celebrating his victory, they all threw rice and petals on him, screaming “May Jupiter bless the emperor!!”. Magnus was still in a state of utter shock.
He was conducted to his new royal residence. The Palatium Imperatorium. It was a giant estate next to the Palatine, one of the seven hills. A giant marble palace, whit huge balconies, inner gardens, fountains, pools and a private bathhouse. The kitchens were humongous, enough to prepare food to an army. Everything screamed luxury and was so imposing, fit to an emperor after all. As soon as he entered his estate, he ordered a beautiful slave, close in age to him, to take him to his bed chambers, he needed to rest for the day… But the slave had a really concerned expression.
“Pardon me, your majesty, but I am afraid the Celebration Feast will start in a matter of hours “ The young boy tried to say, fearing for the emperor’s response “I assume you can rest for the evening.
“That will do, please, show me my chambers” Magnus was truly exhausted.
“Are you sure you do not want to drink some appetitus incitamentum for the feast?” Asked the slave.
“Appetitus incitamentum?” The emperor was confused.
“Well, since you are the emperor, it is a sign of power to indulge during a feast, the more you eat and drink the merrier. The appetitus incitamentum is a drink made with natural herbs that will enhance your appetite!”
“Oh you jest… I will not indulge in gluttony! It is a sin!”
“It is a sin for the commoners and slaves, your majesty, you are our new god! Do you think Baco would not indulge during a feast? He is required to!”
Magnus scratched his beard, and realized the slave was right, he did not want to annoy the Senate by not behaving like a traditional emperor.
“Very well… What is your name boy? - He asked “Bring the appetitus incitamentum to my bed chambers, I will drink it before the feast! Let’s just get through this and I won’t have to worry about something like this until the Harvest Feast.”
“My name is Lettus, your majesty. And… I’m afraid banquets are held almost daily for the emperor… You will always be hosting feasts for the Senators and Generals, this will be a very common part of your routine.”
“For Jupiter’s sake how on Hades will I stay shaped like a warrior?”
“Oh you do not have to worry, your majesty. These constants feasts will only be held during Peace times, I am sure you will personally go on a military campaign if that is what you wish so.”
“That is great news Lettus, thank you. Now I take my to my chambers and bring me that drink.”
Magnus was taken to his private chambers and they were absolutely impressive. It was divided into four main rooms, a living area with tons of bookshelves and some couches, a bed area with the biggest and most imposing bed he has ever seen, a dressing chamber filled with the most beautiful and luxurious tunics and finally a giant bath room. He didn’t think much before jumping on his bed and falling asleep.
As the emperor was getting ready for the feast, The Senate’s most influential and powerful senators were holding a private meeting in Claudius’s manor.
“This is outrageous! I am the most prepared candidate The Senate has ever had. My military campaigns in Britania are greater than Caesar’s! Why on Hades would you name that young man who has barely left his mother’s wing as the new emperor! I know his family is very rich and powerful, but they live on the countryside! He hasn’t even visited Rome before!!!”
“Dear General “ Senator Gaeus started speaking “As a member of the Senate this election will benefit you greatly.
“How so? You frail old man!” Everyone could sense Claudius rage.
“Well, we have decided we do not need an emperor to rule” Senator Ottavio interjected himself into the conversation “We have had our share of strong independent emperors ruling the Empire, and every time that happens, the Senate gets weakened, the plebeians get more rights and even some land!” He looked offended by the last sentence “Remember those brothers who tried to distribute land? Pathethic buffoons!”
“So, we have decided to place a little puppet on power, someone we can manipulate and even convince to stay outside our business… And unfortunately you and Silvestros did not fit that profile” Senator Gaeus was trying to sound empathetic.
“I did not even suspect it!” Senator Silvestros seemed upset “I’ve wasted so much money into my campaign! This is not fair to General Cladius and myself!”
“We are aware of the issue, Senator. That is why The Senate will cover the campaign. Do not worry Silvestros.”
“Well, then I am quite happy with the outcome. What is the main concern of the Senate at the moment?”
Senator Gaeus and Ottavio looked to General Claudius.
“It is known your campaign to Britania has costs more than the profit we are making there. Which is also the case of Francia and Galicia’s campaign.” Senator Gaeus started
“We are an empire, conquering land is the base of our society. We are a military country for Jupiter’s sake! “General Claudius was deeply offended “ We have gathered so many slaves, gold, cattle, wheat, silk and dominated trading routes!”
“That is true, General” Senator Ottavio started talking in a very condescending tone “And yet, the profit hasn’t been worth even half of what we spent on the campaigns!”
“So what do you suggest we do, Senator?” Cladius tone was profoundly ironic and cynical.
“That is simple, you narrow minded soldier. We will start to produce various goods, such as clothing, wine, oil, cloth, weaponry, flour and essentials. Forcing our colonies to buy our products. Of course, we will still have our money, trading routes and everything. But in that way, specially if we managed to trade and sell items with the eastern realms, we will make tons more money than by conquering.”
“So no more wars?” Cladius sanity was on a threat
“Not exactly, no. You will still be responsible to defeat and control revolts, but we shall stop conquering unnecessary territories.”
“Will I still be General?”
“Well of course. As a matter of fact, Cartago is rebelling again, you will be sent there to crush them tomorrow.”
“That makes sense, Senator Ottavio. Although, it is common knowledge that Emperor Magnus really wants to climb the military ladder, will he be able to join me?” Cladius, even though still offended by not being named Emperor, still considered Magnus his pupil, and hold him dear to him.
“Of course not, Emperors do not deal with simple revolts! He will stay in Rome. We need a public figure to represent the Senate.”
“But, how is he supposed to become a terrific General if not fighting in any wars?”
“See, that is really not our problem, is it?” Senator Gaus giggled.
“I guess not…”
Back at the palace, Lettus and other beautiful young slaves boys were preparing Magnus for the feast. He had chosen a purple tunic, adorned with golden lines and a fancy sash. He looked extremely beautiful. His luscious brown curly hair was combed to fit the corona, his beard was trimmed and his beautiful hazel eyes were highlighted by a dashing eyeliner, like the old Faraoh’s used to do. He was escorted by his household guard to the banquet hall, where all the most influential people in Rome, musicians and serves were waiting for him to start the feast.
He glanced at all the appetizers being served and already got worried, there was so much food he didn’t know where to begin. So he raised his goblet and toasted for good Fortune, ordering the serves to officially start catering. And boy, did he eat. Magnus chover so many various plates into his greedy and ravenous mouth, since he had drunken having that appetite drink, he was starving. The emperor managed to go through most of the plates during dinner, but as new ones started coming from the kitchens, he started sweating and fearing for his poor stomach.
Magnus did not have any other choice, he practically forced himself to consume every single food that was presented to him, as his guests watched in awe their emperor indulgence, the living image of Baco, as it was their tradition. At the end of the feast, the emperor’s belly was so swollen he looked at least 4 months pregnant, he couldn’t walk, so after puffing a short goodbye speech, his slaves carried him to his bed chambers, where he fell into a deep food coma.
Magnus awoke to the dull ache of his own body. His abdomen felt stretched to its limit, like a wineskin left too long in the sun. He groaned, shifting only slightly beneath the linen sheets, and immediately regretted it. A sharp pang of discomfort radiated from beneath his ribs.

“By Pluto’s arse… what have I done to myself?” he muttered, clutching his distended belly.

From the corner of the room, Lettus emerged quietly, a silver tray in hand. On it, a clay goblet of warm honeyed water and a small rolled cloth for the emperor’s forehead.

“You’ve impressed them all, your majesty,” Lettus said softly, placing the tray down. “Senator Octavian called you a banquet god.”

Magnus winced. “A banquet god? I feel like a slaughtered ox. Why do I need to eat so damned much, Lettus? What madness is this?”

“It is tradition, your majesty,” Lettus replied, with the calm patience of one used to such questions. “Feasting is a sign of Rome’s strength. Our emperors are expected to embody abundance, wealth, power. The more you eat, the more you prove that the Empire is overflowing with bounty.”

Magnus rolled onto his side, the motion sluggish and uncomfortable. “That’s ridiculous. What happened to the days of Cincinnatus? Of hard men, soldier emperors with calloused hands and iron stomachs?”

Lettus chuckled lightly. “They still sing those men’s songs, your majesty. But they do not dress like them. Nor eat like them. Not anymore.”

The emperor closed his eyes and sighed. There was still the taste of honey-roasted boar on his tongue, sticky and sweet, cloying now. The memory of the evening returned to him slowly, like a fever dream.

The feast had begun with gustatio—the appetizers. Platters of stuffed dormice dusted with cinnamon and dipped in honey; oysters drenched in garum; figs stuffed with walnuts and goat cheese, wrapped in cured ham and roasted over coals. A parade of pungent cheeses, crusty bread scented with thyme and rosemary, and warm olives marinated in oil and vinegar followed. That alone might have been enough for any reasonable man.

But Magnus was not allowed to be reasonable.

As soon as the servants cleared the first course, the prima mensa began. The main dishes—elaborate, steaming, absurd. Roasted peacocks with their feathers reassembled, glazed in wine and honey. Flamingo tongues presented on beds of lentils. A whole sea bass, baked in clay and cracked open at the table, its skin infused with bay leaf and orange zest. Fatty cuts of lamb soaked in garum and honey-mustard glaze. Trays upon trays of grilled sausages stuffed with pine nuts and herbs.

Wine flowed like a river—Falernian, Caecuban, and Setinian, some so old they were worth more than a soldier’s yearly salary. Magnus downed goblets just to keep his throat from sticking shut with meat. The appetitus incitamentum had worked all too well: he had eaten like a man possessed. Even the nobles paused to gape as he tore into dish after dish.

“You must show your appetite, your majesty,” Lettus had whispered behind him. “A small stomach is a sign of weakness. Gluttony is strength.”

And so he had continued. Past the threshold of comfort. Past the edge of pain.

The secunda mensa—dessert—had nearly broken him. Dates stuffed with almonds and fried in honey. Pastries oozing with fig jam. Cakes of barley and ricotta layered with nuts and spiced fruit. There was even a gelatinous concoction made with boiled cow’s hooves and flavored with rosewater, which Magnus could barely stomach but forced down anyway while smiling to the watching senators.

Now, lying bloated and half-delirious, he tried to imagine doing this again tomorrow.

“Lettus,” he croaked, “how often did Emperor Tiberius feast like this?”

Lettus poured the honey water and offered the goblet. “Rarely. But then, Emperor Tiberius had no senators to impress. He ruled by fear. You, your majesty, rule by favor.”

“I’d rather fight a Gaul barehanded than do this again.”

“You may not have the choice, your majesty.”

Magnus drank, wincing at the sweetness. “If I vomit, will they consider me weak?”

“Only if they see it,” Lettus said, not unkindly.

The emperor laughed bitterly, a sound that turned into a cough. “Rome is a cruel mistress. She feeds you until you burst and calls it worship.”

Lettus took the goblet and replaced it on the tray. “Perhaps. But she also remembers every mouthful. Your performance tonight has been heard in every noble house. They see a new emperor who honors tradition. A man of appetite, strength, excess.”

“They see a puppet who can gorge on command,” Magnus grunted.

Lettus didn’t answer.

Outside, the city still echoed with distant music and laughter. Inside, the emperor lay still, the weight of a thousand expectations—gilded, marinated, and spiced—settling in his gut like lead.

He turned his face to the cool marble wall beside his bed.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “bring me the smallest plate you can find.”

“As you wish, your majesty,” Lettus replied, though they both knew he wouldn’t.

Magnus closed his eyes again. The feast had ended, but the performance had only just begun.