Rome's Soldiers Fund Their Own Wars; No Wonder There's No Hope

No, it might be even more complicated.

Night suddenly thought about the simultaneous slave uprising in Sicily.

The Roman legion sent to suppress the uprising also faced a severe defeat.

It's worth pondering: where did the once-dominant Rome of the Mediterranean disappear to in just a few decades?

Rome's internal systems had clearly become dysfunctional...

Though he didn't fully understand the historical intricacies, he knew how corrupt the aristocracy was at this time.

And the root of their corruption was their insatiable need for wealth.

And where did that wealth come from?!

War funds—!

At this moment, Night seemed to understand why Rome kept losing.

He summarized a few points based on the information he had so far:

1. The inaction of the navy in the Italian seas.

2. Delayed reinforcements.

3. The financial officer had no money; either the military funds were embezzled, or Rome was truly out of money.

Night remembered reading a post before his transmigration, which discussed how hard it was for soldiers in Rome during this period.

The post mentioned that because of constant wars, Rome needed a massive budget, and when the funds were insufficient, soldiers had to buy their own equipment.

Roman wars often lasted for years.

And when soldiers finally returned home, they found their families in ruin because their absence had caused financial collapse.

In some cases, their wives and children had even left with others.

While nobles with slaves might manage better, commoners faced total ruin.

This was the downside of prolonged warfare—soldiers grew poorer with each battle, while the conquered lands and wealth went to the nobles.

Whenever it came to distributing the spoils, soldiers were promised more wars with the assurance that rewards would come after the next victory.

But in reality, there was never any money—just empty promises.

Such extreme exploitation would make even future capitalists weep.

This might be why Tiberius seemed hesitant, afraid that Night would learn the truth and kill him, then lead the soldiers to join the Spanish rebels instead.

Though that possibility existed, Night had already decided to bet on Tiberius in this simulation and wouldn't abandon Rome.

He nodded, indicating he understood the situation.

This relieved Tiberius, who feared further questioning.

At this moment, the old soldier, Karkases, approached and sat down beside Tiberius, making him tense up.

After all, this man had tried to kill him not long ago.

However, Karkases suddenly laughed. "Hey, kid. Are you still afraid of me?"

"No, you have no reason to kill me anymore. Why should I fear you?" Tiberius took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

He was, after all, the future reformer who would bravely push for change despite immense opposition.

He wasn't afraid of dying and just only afraid of dying pointlessly.

Karkases: "Karkases is my name... you can call me Karl. Sorry for being rough earlier."

Tiberius was taken aback by Karl's apology.

As he processed his shock, Karl began to tell his story.

He was a veteran, having fought in the Third Punic War, witnessing the fall of mighty Carthage alongside the legendary Roman general.

Before the Spanish War, his legion had won many battles, yet despite his efforts, Karl remained just a soldier, with no change in his position.

Years of continuous fighting had exhausted him, but what kept him going was his son back in Rome...

"My ancestors once had a strong family name, a lineage of heroes.

But for certain reasons, that name was stripped away, and now I can only use my given name," Karl said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

This was not uncommon in Rome.

Many noble descendants who had committed offenses were stripped of their family names and often reduced to slavery.

So, he considered himself lucky to still be serving as a soldier rather than a slave.

Karl's ultimate hope was to achieve enough military merit to reclaim his family name upon returning to Rome.

If he couldn't regain his name, he at least wanted to secure enough wealth for his son's future happiness.

He had given his life to Rome's battlefields and did not want his child to follow the same path of suffering.

Thus, he could not afford to fail.

While Rome had been victorious for a long time, any defeat would necessitate more conscription.

During the Second Punic War, Rome had lowered the recruitment age to include many impoverished individuals who would not normally serve.

So he was afraid that one day his son might also be forcibly conscripted.

Listening to Karl's story, Night quietly absorbed the era's tragedy.

He did not shatter the man's unrealistic dreams, knowing that as long as the world remained divided, Rome's campaigns would continue.

Even if Rome ceased its expansion, internal conflicts like the Social War would still erupt.

Under such conditions, only the nobility had exemptions from conscription.

Commoners had no choice but to join the army.

Karl said, "So, I cannot become a deserter. I apologize for my earlier outburst and hope you can understand an old father's agitation. I won't raise a hand against you again; I'll protect you for your promise."

As he spoke, he looked at Tiberius,

This young man in his twenties, almost thirty years old, was still just a child in Karl's eyes.

Such a young child...there are some things he really couldn't say.

In fact, as a veteran he also had his own pride.

Although he said that he did not want Tiberius' sympathy or pity, he actually hoped that the other party would not hold a grudge after hearing his story.

It didn't matter if he died, even if he was branded as a deserter.

At this age, he had already looked down upon all honors and regarded them as shit!

The kind of things that nobles use to make big promises and fool young people were no longer popular among him.

Or maybe his passion han'd long been drained away!

But Tiberius at this time was very silent and uncomfortable.

Karl greatly underestimated the man's breadth of mind.

He thought that the man might not be able to understand the sadness and helplessness of a small person.

Tiberius understood it better than anyone else.

.

.