Chapter 6:
The morning after FC Roma's historic victory, Lucius found himself besieged by petitioners before he'd even broken his fast. Merchants from Ostia still smelling of salt and fish oil jostled with Greek athletic trainers in the courtyard of Campum Ludus, while a contingent of legionnaires stood stiffly at attention near the goalposts.
Their unified demand cut through the dawn chill: "We want our own teams."
Lucius rubbed sleep from his eyes as the system's message burned behind his eyelids:
[Expansion Phase Initiated: Establish Foundation for 20-Team League. Reward: Regional Training Knowledge].
The sheer audacity of the task should have terrified him. Instead, he felt the first stirrings of something dangerous - possibility.
By noon, the floodgates had burst open. A parade of hopefuls marched through the stadium gates:
The Navicularii guild from Ostia arrived with a chest of silver and a demand for wine concessions. Mountain runners from Tibur demonstrated their endurance by sprinting laps around the pitch while carrying sacks of grain.
Even the fractious street gangs of Subura had organized themselves into three rival factions, each vying for official recognition. Most surprising was the delegation of Jewish stonemasons from Transtiberim, presenting a ball stitched with intricate Hebrew patterns. "We build the strongest walls in Rome," their leader boasted. "Now we'll defend goalposts."
Cassius watched the proceedings from the shadows, his dagger flashing as he pared an apple. "You realize you're creating twenty new ways for Decimus to destroy you?"
Lucius didn't answer. He was too busy drafting the league's foundation - four distinct categories to harness Rome's existing rivalries.
The district teams would pit neighborhood against neighborhood (Aventine Wolves vs Palatine Eagles). Trade guilds would field their own champions (Collegia Butchers in blood-stained aprons, Mercury's Merchants* with coin-embroidered tunics).
Satellite cities like Ostia and Capua demanded representation, while the military camps insisted each legion deserve its own side.
Julia Antonia arrived at sunset, her litter borne by Nubian slaves. She studied Lucius's hastily drawn team crests - a bull for Capua, Neptune's trident for Antium - before adding her own flourish.
"The Ostia Dockers should play in blue like the sea," she murmured, her stylus hovering over papyrus. "And the Palatine team must wear purple, or the senators will revolt."
As the first stars appeared, the training grounds became a mosaic of chaos. Dockworkers from Ostia wrestled Greek athletes for possession near the west goal.
In the dusty corners, Subura street rats demonstrated impossible footwork between stolen sips of wine. Even the perfumed youths of the Palatine participated, though their silk tunics fared poorly against the mud.
Lucius moved through the madness with the system's analytical gaze, noting strengths and weaknesses: the Tibur runners' explosive speed but poor stamina, the legionnaires' brute strength but lack of creativity.
The backlash came at dusk. Decimus's edict appeared nailed to the stadium gates, its wax seal glinting in the torchlight: "By order of the Urban Prefect: All sporting assemblies exceeding fifty men require Senate approval."
The thinly veiled power grab hung in the air like a challenge.
That night, as Lucius pored over the system's blueprints, a solution emerged from an unlikely quarter. The system pulsed:
[Countermeasure Available: Exploit Religious Exemption. Designate Teams as 'Cult of Mercury' Training].
A laugh burst from Lucius's lips - of course Rome would force him to disguise football as worship.
By the next new moon, eighteen proto-teams trained across Latium. They lacked proper kits, standardized rules, even consistent balls. But they possessed something far more dangerous than organization - raw, unfiltered ambition.
As Lucius sealed the final roster scroll, the system's warning pulsed like a heartbeat:
[Foundation Established. Next Phase: The First League Season. Warning: Expect Sabotage.]
Beyond his window, the first autumn stars burned cold over Rome. Somewhere in the darkness, Decimus plotted.
In palace halls, the emperor's spies took note. And across the city, twenty groups of men now dreamed the same impossible dream.
The beautiful game had taken root in the empire's stony soil. Now it would either flourish - or be torn apart by the very forces Lucius sought to unite.