A Thousand Years of Brass and Blood

- A Thousand Years of Brass and Blood is the sequel to When Rome Stood Firm. - The Eternal City no longer rests on seven hills. It rests on steam pipes, iron rails, and secrets buried five centuries deep. The year is 1000 AD. The New Roman Empire stands at the zenith of human civilization. Navis Aeria airships rule the skies. The Via Ferrea connects continents in days. The Fila Aetheria carries the pulse of commerce and command to every corner of an empire stretching from Britannia to the borders of Serica. Five great pillars hold this machine in balance: the Emperor, the forty-two provincial houses, the Senate, the Church, and the Collegium Aethericum whose mastery of Aether technology has made every wonder of this age possible. But the most magnificent machines are the ones that hide how badly they are breaking. An emergency aetherogramma arrives through the Fila Aetheria's most classified channel: Iberia has erupted in open rebellion. To the Senate it is another fire to extinguish with legions and logistics. But Emperor Aurelius II knows something the Senate does not. Something he will not explain even to his own son. Something that makes this rebellion different from every uprising that has come before. The Emperor departs for the frontier. All Fila Aetheria access to Iberia is severed. All Via Ferrea connections cut. Rome is left in silence. And silence, in a city this vast, is never merely quiet. It is pressure building behind a sealed door. Aurelius II leaves Rome in the hands of Romulus III: Caesar, twenty-one years old, heir to five centuries of glory, now trusted with a throne he was never meant to occupy this soon. Under the guidance of Aelius Tacitus, Imperial Historian of seventy years and keeper of everything the empire has preferred not to display, Romulus must hold the capital together while the wolves of the Senate sharpen their questions and seven hundred unanswered aetherogrammata pile up in the palace signal room. Because the rebellion in Iberia is not asking for land or lower taxes. It is asking a question so fundamental that the empire has not been forced to answer it in five hundred years. A question about blood. About legitimacy. About whether the throne at the center of the world is sitting on the foundation everyone believes it is. The Five Pillars are beginning to fracture. Secrets buried deep enough to have been almost forgotten are running out of patience. And Aelius Tacitus, who has spent forty years writing the history of the empire's founding, knows that the past is never simply the past. It is a map. And maps, in the right hands, are weapons. Civil war is coming. One empire. One rebellion. One truth that will unmake everything. A Thousand Years of Brass and Blood is the sequel to When Rome Stood Firm.