The Wolfpack: A Scipii Campaign

[Mysterium]

History Park, History Assembly Executive Offices

Jones stepped up to the paneled wooden door and set his knuckles against it but delayed knocking for a moment. Truth be told, he was scared. He knew what was coming, and wanted to stave it off for as long as possible. And the surroundings were intimidating; he was used to the less-than-stellar digs that the History Assembly staff had down in the old parking lot, not the executive offices up in History Park proper, where the big wigs did . . . whatever big wigs do. At the gentle cough from the secretary he turned, shrugged, and knocked on the door.

“Come on in!” came the holler. He pushed his way through the door.

Ms. Sarna’s office was rather large. Palatial might have been pushing it, but it was certainly nicer than anything Jonesy had ever – or would ever – own in his life. Ian, the head of the Assembly’s computer geeks, was seated in one of the chairs in front of Sarna’s thick wood desk. He was playing with his handheld, answering some electronic mail.

Ms. Sarna was machine-gunning orders to four different staffers simultaneously but managed to find time to wave a hand indicating Jones should have a seat next to Ian. “We’ll need to set up a formal schedule for the judges, since I believe we’ll have plenty of fodder for them. I think the Texan was joking about teaching the Scythians how to build a steam engine, but all the same, we’ll need to make things stay at least historically plausible. Have marketing buy another 5 points, radio-heavy, the ratings after the Scipii stunt and the Oxford professor’s crumpet-throwing tantrum justify it, I feel. And please, please tell me someone’s been ramming our building proposals through the local government’s planning agency. I’ve got 2,000 men in hardhats waiting to turn that parking lot into a Roman villa, and if we have to ask History Park for yet another favor with the locals, I won’t be able to show my face around here. Go.” She waved her hand and the four staffers busily departed, buzzing in low tones like the drones they were as they shared and delegated tasks among themselves. “Ian, Mr. Jones, sorry to’ve kept you waiting.” Both men mumbled incoherent word along the lines of ‘no trouble at all,’ because the boss took up your time at her own convenience.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Jones. You were loaned from History Park to our company only for the time it took to finish recruiting for our project, at which point you would be returned to their employment, or released, depending on their needs. I’m sorry to say that History Park has expressed no need to continue your services.”

Jones did his best not to look crestfallen. “I know, ma’am. At least, I was expecting it.”

She held up a hand. “However . . .” Jones perked up. “I believe there are a number of tasks that need doing around here, and a man with your experience and knowledge of both History Park and our own History Assembly would be particularly useful. Specifically, Ian here needs someone to run interference between his own department and the AI specialists at the Park. Would that interest you?”

Jonesy broke out into a grin that he couldn’t stop. “Yes ma’am, it would.”

“Excellent. Say hello – again – to your new boss.” Jones turn and shook Ian’s hand with a smile. “And if that job doesn’t keep you too busy, there’s another little task I’d like you to undertake. I believe a certain teenager has a number of questions, and you’re just the one to answer them . . .”

“I’ll do what I can, ma’am!”


Scipii simulator


“Hey, guys?” Carl was wielding the wand, and only Hank and Trevor were around. Mike was off sleeping somewhere, and Monica had gone off to lunch with a friend.

“Mmm?” Hank mumbled, not looking up from his reading.

“Uh, one of our spies just managed to get close to the Carthagins on Sicily.”

“Carthaginians,” Hank answered, still not looking up. “Or Peoni.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do we know who Hanno is?”

Hank’s head shot up. “What? Hanno?”

“Yeah, who’s he?”

Trevor came bounding down from the kitchen. “The head of their faction. The main man. The Godfather.”

“So what should I do?”

“Wake up Mike,” Trevor said without hesitation. He glanced at Hank. “If he’s here, you think they’re going for Syracuse too?”

“They may have designs on it, yes,” Hank answered. “Either way, it will be a chance to show strength in front of them, as long as you believe we can keep Messana protected.”

“Hmm, raise a few more levies there, Monica’s not around to tell us not to spend the cash. And hit Syracuse hard with whatever we can spare.”

“Are we gonna have a battle?” Carl asked.

“Better than that,” Hank answered. “A siege.”


Scipii villa, Messana


A servant entered with a message scroll during Cornelius’ morning meal. He sat up from his couch and took it, noting the wolf’s-head seal of Gaius, his third son. He unrolled it and scanned it quickly.

“Ha! Take a look at this, you lazy slug.” Cornelius threw the scroll at Julianus, who was eating his own breakfast, reclined on a nearby couch. Their wives glanced up for a moment, but soon returned to their own affairs, speaking of an issue with the servant’s pay and ignoring the bluster of their husbands.

Julianus took the scroll and unfurled it. “By Jupiter’s beard, that little rascal.”

“We’ve been sitting here staring at maps for weeks, and already your little brother has blooded his sword, tweaked the nose of the Brutii, and gotten laurels from the Senate of Rome.”

“Makes you look like a lazy slug, too, father.”

Cornelius Scipio guffawed. “That he does. That he does, I suppose. Tell me, what troops do we have that we can dispatch to Syracuse?”

Julianus hauled himself up from his couch and pulled out a well-worn parchment with a rough map of Sicilia. “Quintus is still in the south, pretending to guard the border from that army of Carthaginians marching around. He’s got maybe half a legion with him? Perhaps a bit more. We have a few auxiliaries here in Messana – some velites and some archers. They could be added in.”

“And the marching Greeks?”

“Quintus hasn’t seen them, or he’d send word. I sent a few men west, but they haven’t spotted them either. So there’s an army of Greeks somewhere on Sicilia, but we know they’re not in Syracuse.”

Cornelius motioned for a servant to take his food away and stood. “Good. Very good. I want you to take whatever auxiliaries you can scrape together to stiffen Quintus’ troops, head south, then take Syracuse. You lead.”

Julianus bowed his head. “Yes, Pater. As you will it.”