"My luck isn't necessarily over!" —Philip V of Macedon, 185 BC, in the face of the ultimatum of the Roman mission, angrily spoke

————————————————————————————

There are some things this morning.,Changed to update at noon.,Update it in the evening.,Normal two changes.,Please support more.。 There are some comments in the book review area, Rong Sura has time to reply in the past two days, and she is busy at work.

——————————————————————————————

This was very lethal, and when Printhia saw that there was no signature or seal of Crassus and Caesar on this amber board, she seemed to understand something in her heart, "Calabis, you mean, Catiline is about to be finished." ”

"Yes, no matter what, until I hand over this amber plate to Cicero, everything is still under my control, my dear Princia, I don't want you to be confused by Syra. Even Turus's sake was involved. ”

"Can you also deal with Syra's name?"

"No, you can't. Cicero wasn't stupid. "You know, Printhia, there's a saying in my hometown that you can't avoid two disasters at once, but you can choose to take the lighter one." Besides, now there is a more haode choice" With that, Calabis gently pushed the amber board in front of the Roman courtesan queen, and Princia laughed and pointed to herself, "You mean to tell me to go to the head?" Take this thing with you. ”

"Yes, I believe you, dear prom queen." Calabis laughed slyly, "Countless politicians are your courtiers, not to mention that you are also a close person to Syra, and you are more convincing than me when you take this thing to Cicero." ”

"Why"

"I've got to know you!" Calabis interrupted, "You have an older brother, a recently freed slave from the auction house, and he has a son named Horace. Yes, little Horace is your named heir, you are both his aunt and his guardian, Horace is still very young, not long after his birth, but you dot on him, love him, and hope that he will enter the Greek school in the future, and become an elegant and noble man, and no longer follow in the footsteps of you and your brother—I am also convinced that little Horace has a bright future. With that, Calabis lifted another roll of vellum paper and threw it in front of Princeia, and the chandelier of the tavern swayed slightly with his movements.

Principia picked up the parchment paper and said no more, on it was the certificate of the Promissive School of Tyranion, stamped with Tyranion's ring seal - even if Principia herself did not understand philosophy, the identity and status of Tyranion, and what his recognition represented, the "queen" still knew in her heart.

"I can't believe it." I don't know if Printhia was referring to how Calabis was able to get this thing, or if she was going to betray her guest of the scene.

"Nothing unbelievable, dear Princia, when you are like a butterfly at the banquets of the city of Rome, you cannot imagine what life I and my woman lived on the battlefield of Asia Minor, and Tyranion is in some way a friend of trouble, yes - we are all people who have crawled out of the mud pit hell of vileness, filth, and suffering, and I swear to protect everything we have in Rome today! It's not something that anyone can deprive with a single word and a finger - Catiline will soon understand this. As for tonight, as long as you nod your head, I'll take care of the rest. With that, Calabis stood up, clapped his palms, and a large man with blond hair and a face twisted together from the scars walked in.

"Opric, I heard that two of your fellow countrymen have served as tribal envoys who have come to Rome from Gaul to ask for forgiveness of their debts." Calabis asked the big man.

"Yes, our tribe owes a lot of money to the Roman tax collectors, and it's almost impossible to get by." Opric said, then added, "They have good reason to hate Roma." ”

"Very well, this lady's name is Princia, and she has befriended a big man named Syra. Lian Tulus may be able to help your two fellow countrymen and their people in debt. When Calabis had finished speaking, her eyes were fixed on the somewhat unnatural Princia until she smiled approvingly, and she laughed herself, and raised her glass, and collided with the crowd cordially.

At the time of his farewell, Calabis gently took care of the proprietress Domu, "Five thousand drachmas, say haode, I will pay you tomorrow, and maybe in a few bazaars in the future, I will rent your tavern and hold a very grand farewell party for one of my friends, and you will arrange it." ”

"How many girl slaves, how many male slaves?" Domuwei straightened her tender big breasts, half-opened her starry eyes, and asked.

"You can do it on the scale of half a hundred." Calabis commanded, and departed.

As he departed, the Capitol Mountains were shrouded in morning light, a few wisps of breakfast smoke rose from the city, and the horn on the hill sounded sharply.

By noon, almost all the people of Rome knew the results of the divination:

This year's election of consuls will not be postponed as Cicero suggests, nor can it be held on time in defiance of God's will—but in advance, dramatically—four market days later, at the end of this summer, the consuls of the next year must be elected.

Hearing this result, Calabis smiled, and the "surprise" he gave to Catiline, this is it.

The result was worse than Catiline's expected postponement of the election, and in the four market days, he was unable to raise funds for his campaign, let alone buy votes through his connections. What's more, because he had suffered from the lawsuit of the Afrikan merchant group before, plus millions in debt, someone would be instructed by political enemies at any time, or revisit the old matter, or directly in the name of debt recovery, continue to sue him in the law, so that he will automatically lose the qualification to run for consulship in the next year.

Even if Catilin could continue to pretend to be calm, his gang of party members finally couldn't hold it back.

Pig-like teammates, it's time to start.

Just a few days later, in the middle of the night, several of Crassus's close servants, with a hundred thousand anxious attitudes, handed a secret letter to Cicero, who was on duty in the Senate, and Cicero opened it for inspection, and the contents of it were that a mysterious person found Crassus's slave in the middle of the night, and threw out a letter, advising Crassus to leave the city of Rome as soon as possible, because someone was soon plotting a great arson and massacre, not only to kill all the fathers of the Senate, but also to murder the consul Cicero, He also said that in his apartment and warehouse, there were houses of flax, kerosene, and daggers, thanks to the faithful caretaker who informed him in time.

After reading the letter, Cicero smiled and didn't say anything more, this kind of headless and tailless thing could not be used as evidence that he brought down Catiline, but he also knew that Crassus, the old fox in the shadows, had already made his attitude clear.

Caesar, everyone knows that he is closer to Crassus now.

This Catiline, the rebels have left.

However, these two guys, in fact, are no different from Catiline, they are both tumors of the Republic, and sooner or later they must be eradicated, while I am still the Consul of the Republic. So Cicero cleared his throat and shouted, "Taylor," a gray-haired, elegant personal slave, walked up.

"Take out the charcoal pen and parchment." Cicero pinched the scarred nose with his hand slightly, "The old rule, I dictate, you will record, this letter is written to Pompey, the general who has won a great victory in the Eastern battlefield and is about to return to Rome in the near future, the tone must be respectful, Pompey is very popular with this set"