Chapter 304
"Hah, those insolent brats..."
A curse slipped out before he could stop it.
He had served as a member of the Senate for twenty-five years.
In his early days, Cato had been praised for his boundless youth and spirit. Now, he had somehow become the most senior heavyweight in the Senate.
It had not been long since the Senate's average age had plummeted to this level.
"Caesar's retirement was the decisive blow."
'Even a titan like Caesar let go of power, so why are you still clinging to it?'
With such silent accusations bearing down on the older senators, the fainthearted among them had no chance of enduring it.
Because Cato was five years younger than Caesar, he could justify keeping his seat, but the others had all abandoned the Senate.
Even though it left him feeling a bit lonely, it had been bearable.
Those who shared his memories of the old Roman Republic had trickled away one by one, but they had not vanished entirely.
Brutus remained, and Marcus was still going strong.
'There is still so much I can do for Rome.'
That conviction had clearly remained in his heart.
Yet as the days passed, he felt his resolve chipping away.
Conversing with the younger senators made it painfully obvious.
It had only grown worse lately.
Today alone, he had lost count of how many times the urge flared up to storm out of the Senate and live in quiet leisure like Caesar or Cicero.
"Fools, so obsessed with efficiency and appearances that they ignore tradition. If they despise their own roots like that, how can they ever set an example for the citizens?"
His anger flared anew as he recalled what had happened just moments ago.
Traditionally, Romans rarely used utensils when eating.
Most dishes were simply eaten with the hands, which were wiped clean afterward.
Of course, the idea that one must wash their hands for hygiene had recently taken hold.
Cato had no complaints about that much.
It was already statistically proven that simply washing one's hands properly drastically lowered the incidence of disease.
However, he absolutely loathed the various dining utensils being introduced recently.
Slicing meat with strange knives and spearing it with trident-like prongs—was this not a departure far removed from tradition?
Marcus had been the first to introduce them.
He never mandated them as a standard.
He had merely pointed out that eating heavily sauced dishes with bare hands left them sticky and smelling of food, making it difficult to immediately return to paperwork.
Cato remembered him asking for their understanding on the matter.
Cato knew perfectly well just how immense Marcus's workload was.
Because of that, he had found it perfectly understandable.
But watching the young senators blindly ape Marcus's habits was nothing but an eyesore.
"Why do we use these utensils, you ask?"
When Cato had reprimanded them during today's luncheon, the response he received was truly something else.
"Who eats with their bare hands these days? Everyone does it this way."
"Dining etiquette is a tradition our ancestors upheld for centuries. Should we not refrain from changing it on a whim?"
He had framed it as nicely as he could, yet the young senators merely stared at him with expressions that said, 'What is this man blathering about?'
Then, sighing heavily, they went back to slicing their meat with the knives in their hands.
"Lord Cato, it is not that we disregard tradition. We use these utensils because they are far more hygienic than our bare hands. Furthermore, we must attend meetings immediately after our meals. We can hardly handle official documents with hands reeking of food, can we?"
"Then simply wash your hands more thoroughly beforehand. Or sprinkle some scented oils on them."
"It is a waste of time to go to such unnecessary trouble. Moreover, dining this way is now the standard in most Roman households. In fact, those who still eat with their bare hands are in the vast minority now."
"Is that not just because they wish to copy Marcus? Since whatever the great Augustus does appears grand, they blindly mimic it without a second thought."
"Forgive me, but even if that were true, it would not necessarily be a bad thing. It merely proves how much the citizens respect Augustus and wish to emulate him."
The young senator talked back without yielding an inch, then pointed to an even younger-looking man sitting beside him.
"Pardon my asking, Lord Cato, but do you know this man's name?"
"...Is he not a recent addition? I am not familiar with him yet."
"He is the heir of a prominent family in Gaul who acquired his citizenship a few years ago out of a desire to learn more about Rome. By establishing numerous merits for Rome, he finally secured a seat in the Senate. Yet, he still attends the dawn subcommittee meetings hosted by the young senators every single day. And it is not just him. All of us gather there to discuss social and economic issues and debate necessary legislation. If we did not, he and the rest of us would instantly fall behind and understand nothing. But we have never once seen you at those meetings, Lord Cato. If you had attended a single subcommittee meeting recently, there is no way you would not know his name."
The young senator fiercely struck his left breast and asked.
"I ask you this at the risk of being impudent. Every single day, we handle state affairs for the present and future of Rome with the resolve to burn away our very lives. Aside from demanding that we uphold tradition, esteemed Cato, how exactly are you contributing to Rome?"
"Contributing...?"
A hollow laugh escaped him.
What were these wet-behind-the-ears brats blabbering about?
Did they know how much effort he had poured into protecting the Roman Republic?
He was certain that the only reason they were not currently playing the role of sycophants under a dictator was because fervent republicans like him existed.
To hear them flapping their gums without the slightest sense of gratitude was simply absurd.
Yes.
His lips remained frozen, refusing to move, purely out of sheer disbelief.
Before anyone realized it, the clinking of metal against bowls and the sounds of chewing had ceased.
The young senators were merely staring down at the plates before them with odd expressions.
"The wine tastes especially fine today."
Only Octavian's unbothered voice echoed through the hall.
※※※
"So that is what happened?"
Having listened to the entire explanation, Marcus offered a troubled, bitter smile.
"I couldn't form a single word in response. Was it because I was too furious?"
They used to converse comfortably in the past, but Marcus was now the Augustus and Imperator of Rome.
They were no longer in positions where they could speak to each other as casually as before.
It was true that Cato felt a lingering discomfort regarding Marcus's existence, as he occupied a position that so clearly violated the ideals of the Roman Republic.
Yet even Caesar, whom he had been so certain was the seed of dictatorship, had surrendered his own power and stepped down.
Brutus, whom Cato firmly believed shared his ideals, also fully followed and trusted Marcus.
Thus, Cato naturally concluded that it was no longer his place to argue.
'I can only assume they are painting a grand picture—one that a rigid man like me cannot even begin to imagine.'
In truth, even now, while being called by the grandiose name of Imperator Augustus, Marcus always treated him informally.
"Laenas is a capable man, but he has a bit of a temper. I understand why he said such things, but he should never have spoken to a senior member of the Senate in such a manner. I will give him a stern warning and have him apologize."
"There is no need to go that far."
"But..."
"If I were to retire like Cicero... do you think I could also live a life of leisure, writing books?"
He could feel Marcus's body stiffen as he tilted his teacup.
The look on his face made it abundantly clear that he had not expected him to bring up such a topic.
"Are you actually considering retirement?"
"Lately, the thought has been growing on me that there is no value in clinging to the Senate with this mindset. How should I put it... now that everyone who shared the memories of that era has retired, it feels as though I have been left behind all alone."
"It is not my place to hastily offer an opinion on your retirement. However, if you do decide to step down, I will ensure you never experience any inconveniences. I only hope you make a choice that leaves you with no regrets."
It meant he should not pass the burden of the decision onto someone else, but make the choice himself.
Secretly, he had been hoping Marcus would give him the answer, but this weak mindset had been thoroughly seen through.
"I see. Then this old man will return home and ponder a little longer on whether to step down."
"You are still fully capable of serving actively, Lord Cato. Please do not let this trouble you so much."
For some reason, those warm words of comfort only made his chest ache all the more.
Pathetic. He felt like he would go mad from how pathetic he was.
Sitting blankly after returning home, he felt exactly like an old lion driven out in a turf war.
He considered pouring himself a drink while he was at it, but he couldn't even muster the mood for that.
He simply sat in a daze, replaying the day's events over and over in his mind.
He found himself so utterly pathetic that sleep refused to come.
Suddenly considering whether to drink the coffee Marcus had gifted him, he instructed a servant to brew a cup.
Ordinarily, unlike others, he drank only wine on the grounds of upholding tradition.
But since sleep evaded him anyway, he figured he might as well give it a try.
Accepting the cup from the servant, he added a generous helping of sugar and took a sip. To his surprise, the sweet yet bitter taste suited his palate perfectly.
It was such an excellent flavor that he regretted not enjoying it until now.
Catching the flickering candlelight, his gaze was suddenly drawn to his own face reflected in the mirror.
Even he could hardly believe how dead and lifeless his eyes looked.
"When did I end up in this state?"
Staring intently at the mirror, a single word perfectly describing his current self came to mind.
A has-been.
He thought he looked shockingly similar to the epitome of an incompetent, lethargic man merely taking up space—the very type he would have rather died than become in his youth.
When and where exactly had he turned into this?
He was not like this in his youth.
He tirelessly collected data and built arguments to attack Caesar.
If he was pushed back in a debate, he would return to his manor and lose sleep for days out of frustration.
He paid keen attention to everything happening across Rome, striving to hone his logic even sharper.
If he didn't, he could not even breathe for the indignation.
Yet at some point, after making a single remark in the Senate hall, he would simply return home and fall asleep.
Whenever he faced attacks from all sides, a wave of fatigue would wash over him, leaving him with no thought but to rest.
When counterarguments were raised, instead of firing back, he merely clamped his mouth shut with a sour expression and sank into his seat.
'Let me set the work aside for now.'
'A single hand can hardly fend off many.'
Given time, those people would admit that he had been right.
"But years passed, and it was only a repetition of the same process."
The passion that used to surge relentlessly within him had simply died at some point.
In the past, to push his will through, he would even paralyze the assembly hall with long-winded speeches.
But now, he couldn't even muster the will to try.
It wasn't simply because the legislative reforms had passed and prevented such actions.
Doing such things at his age would only lower his dignity.
Because he had prestige as a senior member, he had justified his own laziness by telling himself that it was only natural to grow more reserved with age.
"Laenas, was it... He didn't speak a single false word..."
He no longer possessed the ability to debate complex current affairs like the other younger senators.
How could he possibly keep up with men who studied every day and debated the latest issues?
Even if asked about simple economic common sense right now, his mind would go blank and leave him stammering.
"Is it time to step down...?"
Simply keeping his seat like this would only bring disgrace upon himself.
He might even miss his chance to step down to applause like Cicero.
But.
"Is it really fine to do that?"
Could he ever be satisfied by admitting he had outlived his usefulness and stepping aside?
"...What a joke."
Before he knew it, a muttered remark burst through the darkness.
Not yet.
He still hadn't burned everything he had to offer.
He was in no position to step down with satisfaction like Cicero or Caesar, who had done everything they possibly could.
He admitted it.
There was no denying that his current state was that of a has-been.
However, even if he had fallen behind the times... Even if his body and mind had completely burned up, leaving nothing but ash behind...
Deep within his chest, a sliver of passion still remained unextinguished.
Even the near-insulting remarks he had heard today could not completely snuff out the passion in his heart.
Rather, it had given him an opportunity to coldly reflect on himself, which he had forgotten until now.
It served as an awakening, making him shudder as he realized just how complacent he had grown.
As he sat in his chair staring into the flickering candlelight for a long while, the servant who had brewed the coffee asked worriedly.
"Master, are you still awake? Should you not retire to bed now?"
"No."
A startlingly changed voice pierced through the dark room.
The words that flowed past his lips were like a farewell to his lethargic self.
"It seems I have only just opened my eyes."