Chapter 14:
The messenger from Lugdunum arrived caked in mud, his horse collapsing the moment he reined up outside *Campum Ludus. The scroll he carried bore the seal of the Gallic Football Confederation—a crude drawing of a ball with wings.
Lucius unrolled it to find a single line of Latin so badly spelled the system had to translate:
"We play by Brennus rules now. Come and stop us. -Vercingetorix the Younger"
Nikias peered over his shoulder. "Who the hell is Brennus?"
The system helpfully projected:
[Historical Context:
Brennus - Celtic chieftain who sacked Rome 387 BC
'Brennus Rules' - Local variant featuring:
- 25 players per side
- No goal limits
- Mandatory mead consumption at halftime
Legal Status: Direct challenge to Roman football authority]
Vulso cracked his knuckles. "Sounds like someone needs a proper Roman education."
Lugdunum's stadium was a far cry from Rome's marble perfection—just a grassy field ringed by wooden stands, with a pair of menhir stones for goalposts. The local team, Lupus Ferox, warmed up by headbutting each other. Their fans, clad in tartan and already drunk at noon, hurled sausages at the Roman delegation.
Vercingetorix the Younger—a hulking redhead with a bull's skull mounted on his chest—strode forward. "No pretty rules here, little Romans." He kicked a ball that promptly burst open, leaking what smelled like fermented goat milk. "Our football is real football."
The system's analysis was grim:
[Cultural Conflict Detected:
Roman Football: Structured, tactical, relatively safe
Gaulish Football: Chaotic, brutal, 40% alcohol content
Recommended Approach: Cultural assimilation or overwhelming force]
Lucius eyed the broken ball. "How about a friendly exhibition match? Your rules first half, ours the second."
The Gaulish captain's grin showed three missing teeth. "Only if your boys drink from our cup at halftime."
The match began with no whistle—just a druid blowing a carnyx horn.
What followed made Nero's lion games look civilized.
- The 25-per-side rule meant the pitch resembled a collapsing phalanx
- Goals counted from any body part, leading to a lot of strategic crotch shots
- The "ball" was actually a pig's bladder soaked in mead, making it both slippery and delicious
By halftime, the score was 14-12 to Lupus Ferox, and half of FC Roma was either concussed or mildly intoxicated from absorbing alcohol through their skin.
Nikias spat out a tooth. "I think my spleen is in the stands."
Vulso, who had somehow headbutted a Gaul into submission, grinned. "I like these rules."
Then came the "cup"—a hollowed-out aurochs horn filled with something that smelled like bog water and bad decisions.
The system flashed:
[Consumption Risk:
- 60% chance of poisoning
- 30% chance of temporary superhuman strength
- 10% chance of spontaneous bardic inspiration]
Lucius drank first. The world briefly turned purple.
Miraculously, the Roman rules took hold.
The reduced teams (now 11v11) moved with sudden precision. The Gauls, confused by concepts like "offsides" and "not biting," floundered.
Then—the turning point.
Vercingetorix the Younger, struggling with Roman tactics, accidentally passed to Nikias. The Greek, seizing the moment, executed a perfect feint and scored.
The crowd fell silent.
The Gaulish captain stared at the ball in the net. Then he burst out laughing. "Hah! You tricked us into playing smarter!" He clapped Lucius on the back hard enough to dislodge a vertebra. "We'll take some of your rules. If you take some of ours."
The compromise was struck:
- Official matches: Roman rules
- Festival games: Brennus rules (with mead rationing)
- Annual "Great Clash": Hybrid rules (chaos guaranteed)
The system approved:
[Cultural Synergy Achieved:
- Provincial loyalty +50%
- League diversity expanded
- New research: Mead-based performance enhancers]
The victory feast lasted until moonrise.
Lucius was explaining the offside rule to a very drunk blacksmith when the system alerted:
[Anomaly Detected:
Player: Marcus (Ostia Dockers)
Behavior:
- Excessive goal celebrations
- Secret meetings post-match
- Hidden arm tattoos (fugitive slave markings)]
He found the player by the docks, scrubbing his forearms raw in the tide.
"You're free now," Lucius said quietly. "The league charter abolished—"
"Not all of us." Marcus's voice was raw. "The mines at Carthago Nova... whole teams in chains." He pressed a wax tablet into Lucius's hand. "They're playing for their lives."
The system's translation was chilling:
[Slave League Report:
Location: Carthago Nova silver mines
Conditions:
- Games played with iron balls
- Losing teams sent to deep shafts
- Winning "champions" forced to fight gladiators]
Returning to Rome, Lucius found the emperor waiting at the Appian Gate—atop a floating platform held aloft by hundreds of enslaved rowers.
"There* you are!" Nero waved a lyre. "I've solved your provincial problems!" He gestured grandly to the monstrosity behind him—a colossal barge with a full-sized football pitch built on its deck. "The Neropolis Navis! We'll sail from port to port, crushing rebels with style!"
The system's damage assessment was apocalyptic:
[Imperial 'Solution':
- Operational cost: 5,000 denarii/day
- Player seasickness probability: 90%
- Chance of fiery disaster: 110%]
Lucius opened his mouth to protest—then stopped. The barge's sheer absurdity might just be their salvation.
"Divine One," he said slowly, "what if... we used it to *rescue* those poor enslaved players instead?"
Nero's eyes lit up. "You mean like a *heroic* musical voyage?"
"With fireworks," Lucius lied.
The emperor squealed with delight.
That night, Lucius pored over maps with the Vestal acolyte and Julia.
"The mines are guarded by two legions," Julia noted.
The Briton chieftain grinned. "We have bears now."
The system's strategy unfolded:
[Operation Free Kick:
Phase 1: Nero's barge distracts coastal patrols
Phase 2: Gladiator teams infiltrate mines
Phase 3: Underground league provides escape routes
Risks:
- Total failure
- Empire-wide football ban
- Death
Rewards:
- Justice
- Possibly better players]
As plans solidified, the Vestal acolyte placed a hand on Lucius's arm. "This isn't just about football anymore."
Lucius looked at the wax tablet from Carthago Nova, at Nero's insane barge plans, at the league standings showing teams from Gaul to Greece.
"It never was."