Originally Posted by Comrade Alexeo
Senate
Roma
Roman Republic
There was a mild breeze following the Carthaginian diplomat as he entered the hallowed chambers of the Roman Senate. It ruffled his tunic, and it ruffled his mind.
He shivered involuntarily, at first because he was used to warm winds off the desert - not chilling zephyrs off the Tiber River. But as he walked inside the cool marble walls of the Senate, the shivers began not just to go across his skin, but down his spine as well.
Deserted. Completely deserted.
Had he forgotten his appointment time?
No, no, surely not...
...he was being set up...
...filthy Roman curs...
...there, right there!
ASSASSIN!
*
The diplomat pulled out a concealed knife and pointed it at the man stepping out from the shadows...
...wearing a toga.
"I thought the Carthaginians knew better than that?" the man said, gesturing to the knife in the emissary's hands.
Flushing, he queried: "Consul... Consul Marcus Atilius Regulus?"
The man bowed. "That I am. And you must be the man from Carthage, yes?"
Lousy Romans, can't bother to remember names! "Indeed! I am Ambassador-"
Marcus cut him off with a raised hand. "You may dispense with the pleasantries, emissary. Let's get on with it."
*
"...after which of course we will withdraw our troops," finished the Carthaginian, explaining how his leaders wished to send troops to Italia to aid the Romans against the Gauls and Pyrrhus of Epirus.
Marcus simply stared at the emissary. He did this for quite a long time, and the diplomat began to feel increasingly uncomfortable (an emotion which had been steadily developing over the past hour with the Consul). Marcus' eyes bored into those of the Carthaginian, who wished but at the same time feared to look away.
What was he playing at?
He was just... staring.
And...
...staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
...and staring...
The Carthaginian nearly screamed, but finally Marcus did something else.
He started laughing. It was a loud, full, booming laugh that echoed in the Senate's chambers, amplifying them till it seemed as if all of Roma could hear, and even all of Carthage, and even the Gods themselves as the Consul just kept laughing...
...and...
...laughing...
...and laughing...
...and laughing...
...and laughing...
...and laughing...
...and laughing...
The Carthaginian nearly turned and walked away, convinced that this man was surely
"Mad! Hehehe... are you... are you MAD? Hahahahahahahaha..."
Marcus had been laughing so hard that he was crying, and he used a handkerchief to wipe away his tears and mucus - to the disgust of the Carthaginian emissary - as he continued, his speech broken up by laughter:
"Heh... you want me...hahaha... you want me to author-AHAHAHA-authorize the deployment of... of Car-harharharhar- Carthaginian forces...hahahahaha... in Italia-hahahaha?"
"Er, well, yes-"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Well! We only seek to help-"
"HAHAHAHAHA! Help? Help? Hahahaha... and, and, and your idea of he-hehehehehe of help is sending an hahahahahaharmy to our lands?"
"Er, well, yes-"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You... you must surely be joking! Hehehehee... do you think thahahahat you would allow Roman troops on hahahahaha your soil?!"
"No, of course not!"
The ambassador realized his mistake, and quickly sputtered, " I... I mean... er..."
Suddenly, instantly, Marcus stopped laughing and once again looked at the Carthaginian with eyes that, although moments before were filled mirth, were now only filled with fire.
"Let me make this quite clear to you, ambassador. No son of Carthage will ever enter Roman lands under arms!"
Taken aback by the rage behind the statement, the Carthaginian diplomat froze, quite literally in terror.
But once again, Marcus' expression changed to one of calm and intelligence.
"Now, of course, Roma understands the underlying message that you have portrayed, the core of what your leadership is saying, and of course we are most glad that Carthage wishes to aid Roma in a spirit of... of Trojan brotherhood. I can easily see Carthage donating support to us in the form of, say, naval protection, or monetary resources - perhaps, even, a joint move against Epirus when and if the time and situation seems right. These are things that, of course, require further negotiation - unless you feel that you dictate policy for your kings?"
This was a stab at his earlier blunder, and the ambassador failed to stop himself from blushing crimson. Before he could form even the weakest of rebuttals, Marcus continued.
"So, of these things mentioned, we might speak. But under no circumstances will we entertain the notion of Carthaginian forces landing in Italia! Is that clear?"
The Carthaginian nodded. Marcus stood and bowed, and the emissary did likewise. He turned and began to walk as quickly as he could without seeming to out of this nightmarish building.
Just before he reached the marble steps outside, he heard Marcus' voice, seemingly loudly yet quietly at the same time, saying:
"And if you ever return to the Senate armed, I will kill you."
At this point the emissary dropped all pretenses and began to sprint.
*
Marcus chuckled quietly to himself, pleased.
Ah, politics... it is only a game. Politics is just a game."
***
