[ WP ] Instead of Christianity , Judaism , and Islam , the three major religions to make it to the 21st century were the Greek , Roman , and Norse pantheons .

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 Cæsar Marcus Julius Philippus strode down the marble hall of the imitation capital building with his brother, Caius Julius Priscus, hot on his heels. Behind Priscus were two dozen purple-cloaked prætorian guardsmen, faithfully following the orders of the brother Imperator and Prefect. A formidable duo, Philippus and Priscus had proven they could seize opportunity when the mysterious death of Marcus Antonius Gordianus had left a power void into which the pair had masterfully injected themselves. Peace was bartered with the Sassanid Persians, shoring up the eastern front, and the pair had returned to Rome to solidify their control of the Empire. 
 
 Philippus stopped at the pair of heavy iron-barred wooden doors, two prætorian guards with golden cloaks and black plumes atop their helmets stared straight ahead and ignored their Italian counterparts. The Imperator drew a deep breath and popped both his thumbs with quick squeezes, taking one final moment to prepare himself before stepping into the political maelstrom beyond the door. Priscus squeezed his brother ’ s shoulder and leaned near, the leather strap from his unfastened cheek guard bouncing against the Imperator ’ s white toga. 
 
 “ You know what to do, Marcus, ” Priscus ’ voice was low, deep and forceful as he simultaneously reassured his younger brother and sternly ordered him to do as they ’ d planned. 
 
 “ Of course I know what to do, by the Styx, ” Philippus rolled his neck, “ The Centennial is only ten days away and we *must* have peace across the whole of Roman lands if the Gods are to be appeased. Damn the Romans and their pagan superstitions. ” 
 
 The golden cloaked prætorians shot glares at the Imperator, but held their tongues. Even the guards behind Priscus shifted uneasily at Philippus ’ blasphemous remark. Despite his near complete Romanization, Philippus and his brother had some glaring differences. Where Priscus accepted and adapted his familial *jahiliyyah* faith to a parallel Greco-Roman pantheon, Priscus would pray and sacrifice to Iupiter Iovis Hubal where the Romans pray and sacrifice to Iupiter Capitolinus, Philippus held out with a fringe Meccan cult of al-Islam. So far as al-Islam was concerned, much like the Jewish and Christian faiths peddled, there was *one* God. 
 
 One above all, One before all, One and only One. 
 
 “ Stow your damned pride and get it through your head, ” Priscus dug his fingers into his brother ’ s shoulder, “ You are the first among the Romans! And if it weren ’ t for your damned al-Islam, there wouldn ’ t be six other Cæsars in the damned forum of Carnuntum, each with a thousand bloody prætorians at their whim, claiming sway over territory that rightfully belongs to *one* Cæsar. The one Cæsar that was supposed to be you, brother. ” 
 
 “ I understand, you son of a bitch! ” Philippus spun, his toga slipping off his shoulder as Priscus ’ grip did not ease, and stared hard into his brother ’ s eyes, “ Mother forgive me from Hades, but I understand! Allah can wait. Zeus must be satisfied for the Centennial. I *understand*. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s Iupiter, ” Priscus slapped his brother across the cheek, “ And when these whoresons demand the Christians, and Jews, and our own damned Arabs be culled if they don ’ t forsake their one-true-God nonsense, you will *accept* the demand so Rome can become whole again! You heard the Pythia as well as I, Marcus. If the Gods are forsaken, the world will fall into oblivion like never before seen. Rome will burn. ” 
 
 “ Hang Rome and the Romans, too! ” Philippus hissed. 
 
 “ Lays qabl ‘ aelaq laka, ” Priscus slid his gladius a few inches from its scabbard, “ Hubal ‘ uqsim! ” 
 
 Philippus stepped back, pressing himself against the doors. With his toga hanging askew, one shoulder red skinned and bare, he looked less like an Imperator and more like a chastised teenager playing at being a king. The prætorians around were completely unaware of Priscus ’ threat to hang the Imperator, or his oath to Habal to do so if Philippus let the Romans hang. They didn ’ t speak the brother ’ s native Arabic tongue, after all. 
 
 “ Get in there and make this treaty work, ” Priscus slammed his gladius down into its home, “ Or I will promote myself from Prefect of the Roman Imperator. Philippus the Arabi. ” 
 
 Philippus fixed his toga and took another deep breath, turning his back on Priscus and pushing open the doors. Seated inside the semi-circle of rising marble benches were six imposing men each with six guards in plumed helms and shining silver armor with different colored cloaks draped from their shoulder pauldrons. Philippus marched in, six of his purple-cloaked prætorians following him into the chamber and six following Priscus back to the entrance of the forum. 
 
 “ Imperators, ” Philippus raised an arm in greeting as he strode to the center of the forum floor, “ Cæsar Bos Taurus of the Hispanian provinces, Gaius Vulpinus Rufinus of misty Britannia, Titus Dipodidus Jaculus of Africa! A pleasure! ” 
 
 Three men gave half-hearted salutes to Philippus, their prætorians remaining stone faced. 
 
 “ Honorius Pompilius Gallus, protector of Gaul and Germania! Servius Martinus Balkinus of Acheæ and Asia! And last, but most surprising of all, Decius Colubrius Caspianus, ” Philippus gave a slight bow as he turned to face a tan man in clothes much like the Sassanid Persian diplomats sitting nearby, “ Prefect and purveyor of Ægyptus and Syria, conqueror of the Nabateæns and Ætheopia! ” 
 
 None of the men rose to greet Philippus. Each stared at the Imperator of Rome and her Provinces with a mix of contempt and impatience. 
 
 “ You know why we have gathered here, esteemed Romans. Where once the Senate held sway, Thrax the Barbarian laid in cement the truth of this crisis: Power lies in the sword, and the Imperators hold the swords. The one-thousandth year since the foundation of Rome is days away, gentlemen, and the realm of the Divine Augustus has been sundered into warring factions each supporting one of the seven of us. ” 
 
 “ And some of us with Persian gold or Gothic slaves, ” Bos Taurus stood, his hulking figure dwarfing each of his red-cloaked guards, “ While others of us must spill Roman blood in defiance of a usurping Arab! ” 
 
 “ Or suffer the betrayal of an island rat! ” Honorius Gallus stared at Gaius Rufinus as he flipped up the Horns of Orkus, his forefinger and pinky extended toward the Britannian Imperator. 
 
 “ Yes, yes, we all have our grievances with one another, ” Philippus held up both hands, “ But your Gods must be appeased for the Centennial or it has been foretold Rome will fall to ruin. ” 
 
 “ Our Gods, ” Servius Balkanicus stood and pointed at Philippus, “ The Imperator of Rome has the same Gods as any of us, unless he sides with the rebellious Christian and Jewish rabble! ” 
 
 “ They mean no major harm, ” Philippus shook his head. 
 
 “ Pater ’ s cock, ” Caspianus slapped the marble beside himself, “ The entire 24th legion was wiped out by the bloodthirsty Jews! And your ilk have murdered three of my governors since I took that damn pit, Mecca! ” 
 
 “ We must have peace for the Centennial, gentlemen! ” The Roman Imperator clapped his hands, “ I am here because the Pythia has said it was so! Yes, slander me for my familial blood and my faith, but would I consult the voice of a God I did not respect and believe in if I did not think it worth hearing? ” 
 
 The other Imperators muttered, some began to shout but the echo within the chamber made it all meld into one unintelligible roar. Finally Caspianus ’ voice broke through the din and his words rang out, “ We must of peace! We must all find a way to believe one another, we council of commanders, we lords of Rome! We all live as Romans, with Romans, for Romans! We seek to spread Roman ways! We can all maintain our holdings if unified not beneath one man but together, in a confederation as provinces for an ideal! Do you not agree we are but peddlers of shared faith and drive which even the Divine Augustus recognized? We need not squabble over complete control when we can swear allegiance to the Divine and all remain Cæsars of Rome! ” 
 
 “ We can swear to uphold the peace of the provinces beneath the auspices of the Divine Cæsar Augustus, ” Bos Taurus stood again, “ To uphold the faith to Optimus Maximus! To remain the faithful Sons of Mars! ” 
 
 Philippus took a deep breath as his stomach tightened. To swear upon the Divine Augustus, to be a faithful Son of Mars. To betray his own faith in maintaining the sprawling Empire of Rome. 
 
 ‘ *Is the Pythia so right that I must condemn my people and their like to oblivion? * ’ He clenched his jaw as the voices of the other men rose once more to a din, though now of intense agreement. 
 
 ‘ *Does the voice of a God, such as Apollo, which I have spent a lifetime ignoring now hold more sway than Allah himself? * ’ 
 
 Above the forum in a small, hidden cove sat Priscus. He could see his brother tightening and loosening his fists as the other Imperators loudly agreed and shouted ideas for a Provincial Peace, for an Oath of Imperators, and a continued Council of Commanders. Despite his brother ’ s faithful adherence to a fringe religion which was ever garnering followers, Priscus had to follow the orders of the Pythia. 
 
 For, though he and his brother had seen the famous and esteemed oracle together, Priscus had struck out on his own to visit another. It had taken him a week of near insanity as he delved into the Cave of Trophonius, crossing into the ethereal realm of the Gods and drinking from the rivers of Lethe and Mnemosyne before he was seated in front of a twisted and half-human creature which told him why he truly must heed the words of the Pythia: 
 
 *You must do as the Sun hath told, * 
 
 *To reach the Heavens in strong ship ’ s hull*. 
 
 *The new God must fall before the Old, * 
 
 *Lest all mankind flounder into faded lull. * 
 
 *Slay those who spread the word of One, * 
 
 *And all mankind will reach out for the Sun. * 
 
 *The future is open: one written, one a whisper, * 
 
 *Our'now' a new story from time ’ s fissure. * 

