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

Bathhouse owners throughout Rome reacted to Caesar’s proposal in much the same way.

"You want to place pamphlets in our bathhouse? What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what I said. We’ll provide copies for bathers to read, while also selling them to anyone who wants to take one home."

"Like a sort of library?"

"Exactly."

"But people come to a bathhouse to bathe, not to read."

"That may have been true in the past. But now, there are far more citizens who can read now."

Regardless of the district, Rome’s bathhouses were always bustling with citizens.

Many Romans visited the baths every few days to wash and relax, and admission cost very little.

"For instance, there are always people waiting for their companions in the changing rooms, aren’t there? What better way to pass the time than by reading a short eight-page pamphlet?"

"I suppose that’s true, but..."

"As we did with Palmolive soap, we’ll provide the pamphlets free of charge for the first month. After that, if you see the benefits, you can simply continue ordering them from us."

Naturally, no sensible bathhouse owner would turn down a free supply.

Before long, Romans arriving at the bathhouses were greeted by an unexpected sight.

"Was this always here?"

The changing rooms and waiting areas—even the palaestrae, the open-air exercise courtyards found in larger bathhouses—had all been fitted with wooden shelves.

Newly installed wooden shelves were lined with pamphlets.

Bathhouse attendants, both free and enslaved, stood beside the shelves and handed copies to interested visitors.

"Here is Senator Cato’s new rebuttal to the free-grain proposal!"

"Let me have a copy."

As they had done when Palmolive was first introduced, citizens began flocking to bathhouses that stocked the pamphlets.

Other bathhouse owners who had initially shown little interest were soon forced to follow suit.

And they all quickly realized one interesting fact.

"Displaying Cato’s pamphlet beside those of Clodius and Curio draws a much stronger response from the patrons."

"It’s the same for the pamphlets written by the other senators."

As rebuttals and counter-rebuttals appeared in rapid succession, the pamphlet war roared back to life.

[A Proclamation to the True Citizens of Rome]

[In Defiance of the Optimates’ Absurd Claims]

[On the Nature of True Charity]

The competition extended from the content itself to cover design and even typography.

As publishers competed ever more fiercely for the public’s attention, the Roman publishing industry evolved at a blistering pace.

＊＊＊

"There are still more citizens who support our cause! Just think about how many people stand to benefit from this free grain dole..."

"If we want our bill to pass, we cannot allow a single Tribune to veto it. To prevent that, we need overwhelming public support. What we have now isn’t enough."

Curio and Clodius found themselves staring down a new problem.

While they controlled the Forum, victory had seemed all but guaranteed.

All they had to do was mobilize as many supporters as possible on the day of the vote.

If they could just pull that off, pushing the bill through would be child’s play.

But with the bathhouses replacing the Forum as the new political battlefield, they were forced to revise their entire strategy.

"We can’t just station our people in every single bathhouse in Rome. A few here and there, maybe, but..."

"At this point, we have no choice but to win more collegia over to our side. We need more organizations and more supporters behind us."

Clodius reached out to various collegia, offering them even grander promises.

In exchange for their support, he promised to pass laws that would greatly benefit them.

He offered more state contracts to the millers’ collegium and new public-building commissions to the builders’ collegium.

"It is true that our business has grown significantly thanks to Lucius. But if Clodius’s bill passes, the state will award us contracts to process grain every year. Shouldn’t we consider which side would benefit us more?"

Clodius visited the collegia in person and worked tirelessly to win them over.

"But you are neither a consul nor a tribune. How exactly do you plan to pass these laws for us?"

"There are already countless citizens in Rome who support me. If this bill passes, even more citizens will rally behind me. The tribunes will have no choice but to follow the will of the people."

Most established and reputable collegia flatly rejected his offers, but there were those who accepted.

Those that accepted were mostly collegia in name only—gangs composed of thugs, criminals, and vagrants.

"Pay us upfront. Then we’ll do whatever you want."

Clodius sent the thugs into the bathhouses to agitate the patrons and sway public opinion.

＊＊＊

"You designed all of this yourself?"

"It’s quite nice, isn’t it?"

I chuckled at Pompeia’s triumphant expression.

It had been some time since my last visit to the print shop, and I certainly hadn’t expected such a dramatic transformation.

Where there had once been only a handful of presses, there were now several dozen.

And even that wasn’t enough; they had pushed production to its limits just to keep up with demand.

But the printing presses weren’t the only thing that surprised me.

"It’s absolutely beautiful."

I stared at the woodblock print Pompeia handed me.

While text had to be assembled from individual pieces of type, illustrations could be reproduced far more efficiently from carved woodblocks.

I had initially envisioned nothing more than adding a simple woodcut to the page.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cover design this intricate."

The entire decorative border had been carved into a single woodblock, with the center left blank for the title.

The block had been designed to give each pamphlet an ornate, distinctive cover.

And there wasn’t just one frame; there were several different designs, ranging from animal motifs and forest scenes to depictions of the Roman gods.

"I worked with Iaia to create as many different designs as we could. We’re using every one of them for the pamphlets."

"You’ve become Rome’s first true book designer, Pompeia," I said with a laugh.

Come to think of it, Martin Luther had employed the same strategy.

It’s a fact many overlook, but Luther’s success wasn’t solely due to the printing press itself.

Luther paid meticulous attention not just to the text, but to the readability and visual design of his pamphlets and books.

To sell even one more copy of a Protestant pamphlet, printers commissioned a wide variety of cover designs and intricate woodcuts.

The so-called ’Brand Luther.’

I suppose in this world, it would become ’Brand Pompeia’.

Guided by Pompeia, I took a full tour of the print shop.

The shop no longer employed only typesetters. Master carvers shaped woodblocks, artists sketched illustrations, and designers planned elaborate covers.

The printing house was rapidly expanding into a new industry capable of supporting artists and craftsmen.

"It was only possible because you believed in me," Pompeia said with a warm smile. "How are things in the bathhouses?"

"Clodius is pulling in as many supporters as he can. He’s buying them off with either coin or hollow promises."

Clodius was doing something similar to what he had done in the history I remembered.

Worse still, he was adapting some of my own tactics to gather support.

Fortunately, the vast majority of Rome’s collegia were already firmly aligned with me.

Also, many of them were already involved in my father’s One-Year Plan.

There weren’t many fools willing to gamble their livelihoods on Clodius’s empty words.

But that didn’t mean the threat had vanished entirely.

"I hear he recently started stationing his thugs in the bathhouses to harass our employees and disrupt citizens trying to read the pamphlets."

At that, Pompeia suddenly burst out laughing.

It was a deep, full-throated laugh, the kind I rarely heard from her.

"Pompeia?"

"Ah, I’m sorry. Just imagining Clodius’s supporters standing stark naked in the bathhouses, cornering other men and trying to win them over... It’s too funny."

At her explanation, I couldn’t help laughing as well.

"You’re absolutely right."

A massive mob protesting in the Forum was an intimidating sight.

But in a bathhouse?

No matter how burly a man was, it was hard to take him seriously when he was trying to intimidate someone in a changing room.

"It really is a hilarious situation."

It was also clear evidence of just how desperate Clodius and Curio had become.

Right then, a mischievous idea occurred to me.

I looked down at the woodblock prints stacked on one side of the table.

"Could we perhaps include a new illustration in our next pamphlet?"

"A new illustration? What would it depict?"

"There’s no rule saying politics has to be stiff and boring, Pompeia."

I shrugged. In truth, there was one newspaper feature that had always remained popular.

One form of illustration had such remarkable staying power that it survived the decline of print media and thrived on the internet: the political cartoon.

"And I don’t think there’s anyone in Rome more qualified for the job than you, Pompeia."

As I continued my explanation, Pompeia’s eyes lit up with excitement.

＊＊＊

"Alright, let’s get started."

The next morning, Clodius’s supporters headed for their assigned districts.

Some marched to the Forum, while others made their way to the bathhouses.

Their objective was the same: to ’persuade’ the citizens to support Clodius’s proposal.

Their methods varied. Some confronted citizens directly and argued with them, while others violently disrupted anyone trying to read pamphlets opposing the free-grain bill.

As usual, they swaggered into one of the bathhouses together.

Passing through the narrow hallway, they entered the waiting room where an attendant sat.

With practiced arrogance, the men tossed a few coins onto the counter.

"Five of us."

"...Yes, thank you."

The men immediately noticed something strange.

The attendant refused to meet their eyes and was visibly struggling not to laugh.

"What’s so damn funny?"

"Ah, n-nothing at all!"

The attendant choked back a laugh as he handed them their tokens.

The men exchanged confused glances before shrugging it off.

"Weird bastard."

"Guess they’re hiring lunatics to run bathhouses these days."

But the strangeness didn’t end there.

As they walked down the hall and entered the changing room, the other customers stared at them and chuckled.

A few even burst out laughing, entirely unable to contain themselves.

"You boys are Clodius’s men, aren’t you? Starting your rounds early today, I see."

"What’s so funny?! Are you making fun of us?"

"Oh, nothing at all."

A middle-aged man walked past them, chuckling heartily.

As laughter rippled through the corridor, the men could only stand there in bewilderment.

"Did everyone eat something strange this morning? Why on earth is everyone laughing at us?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"Look over there. There’s a crowd."

Stepping further into the changing room, they noticed a group of customers huddled around one particular shelf.

It was the shelf where pamphlets and booklets were displayed.

"Let’s go check it out."

As the men approached, the citizens gathered around the shelf either flinched in surprise or burst out laughing again.

Upon reaching the shelf, the men finally realized exactly why everyone was laughing at them.

The cover of the newest pamphlet featured a bold new woodcut printed in stark black ink.

The illustration depicted the changing room of a bathhouse.

It depicted a naked man clinging to the tunic of another bather who was trying to escape.

And printed boldly above the drawing was a short, punchy caption.

[Please, just hear me out! Don’t you want free grain?!]

The men stared at the cover, struck speechless, their jaws hanging open.

"What on earth is this..."

"Are they... making fun of us?"

While the men stood frozen with embarrassment, laughter thundered through the changing room.

＊＊＊

While similar scenes unfolded in bathhouses across Rome, another group of men was gathering in the Senate house.

"So, what exactly are you proposing?"

Consul Luceius asked, crossing his arms.

Standing before him were several senators—all prominent figures within the Optimates faction.

They were no ordinary optimates, but some of the most uncompromising hard-liners in the Senate.

"Clodius has sunk his claws into both the Forum and the collegia, and Rome is descending into chaos. In a situation like this, who else can we turn to for help but the consul?"

"Which is precisely why Caesar and I are already taking action against him."

Luceius said with an exasperated sigh. Though he had said ’Caesar and I,’ the pamphlet war was being directed by Caesar—or, more accurately, by his son Lucius.

There was even a joke circulating through the streets that this year’s consuls were Gaius and Lucius.

Even prominent senators such as Cato, Cicero, and Brutus had rallied around Lucius rather than Luceius.

"As you well know, a cup of water cannot extinguish a wildfire."

The other senators nodded.

"A fire must be smothered before it grows beyond control. Clodius has already become a blaze, and mere pamphlets will not contain him. If we leave him unchecked, he will seize the streets and consume Rome."

"Are you saying..."

"We must take decisive action before it is too late. For that, we need a man with the resolve to act."

"Caesar will never agree to this."

"But are you not Caesar’s fellow consul?"

At the senator’s pointed question, Luceius’s expression darkened.

"Be careful. Anyone listening might mistake this for an attempt to set me against Caesar."

"Then think of it as helping your dear friend," a silver-haired senator said, gripping Luceius by the forearm.

"What Rome needs now is courage—and the resolve to act. Nothing more."