It was the day before The Battle of The Silarus River, 71 BCE. Festus did not relish the thought of approaching the tent of Spartacus, particularly during the planning phase of the coming battle. Festus looked over his shoulder and the Roman Legions had sent their best in great multitude, Led by the ruthless and clever, General Marcus Licinius Crassus. He could almost smell the blood about to be spilled and then he recalled the reason why he and countless thousands had followed Spartacus. Freedom.

He also reflected upon the nightmare that his existence had been since the day he'd been taken into slavery as a child from one of the many conquered Roman provinces. The endless labor, the cruel floggings, the desperation in the eyes of men forced to die in the arena for the pleasure of drunken Roman eyes. Reluctantly, he dragged the stranger into the tent. Spartacus and his Generals looked up. First staring at the prisoner and then at Festus, wondering who this odd man in chains was, and why his presence merited an interruption of their war council.

But something in the stranger’s eye caught the attention of Spartacus and he raised a hand before the others could utter protest. “Who is this, Festus? Why do you risk wrath by bringing him here, why is he in chains?”, The questions poured out by a man thinking only of the legions of enemies bent on their decimation.

“His name is difficult to pronounce, but he speaks Latin and spins tales of gods, flying chariots, and being able to help us in our contest against The Romans. He bears the brand of a slave, yet appears more of a soldier.”, Festus shared, showing the stranger’s arm with a deep brand in letters than none had ever seen.

“Speak Stranger”, Spartacus ordered.

With that, the chains inexplicably fell from the stranger’s arms, neck, and legs, but once again Spartacus raised a hand to calm the others from any rash or premature action.

“My name is William Crudup, and I have been sent here to help you. Please let me show you my I.Q.”, He let out in perfect Latin. He then gestured, pointing out of the tent. Eyes that had survived many things and defeated countless men in brutal combat in both the arena and on the battlefield, studied the stranger for a moment. His Latin sounded perfect, like a Roman, but his mannerisms and clothing, Spartacus had never seen.

Both men and all the Generals exited the tent along with Festus.

“You will tell your children, and they their children, about this day, for a thousand generations.”, The stranger called “William”, said to Spartacus. He then floated above them with glowing eyes while facing the tens of thousands of soldiers encamped below their position. Instantly, all the men with Spartacus, drew swords or bows with the exception a those who ran at this sight.

The stranger waved his hands heaven-ward, and then asmall black craft descended from the sky, far faster than any hawk or bird of prey those assembled had ever seen. In an eyeblink, it dropped what was an inferno upon Crassus and hislegions. What followed was a fiery hellscape that consumed man, beast, chariots, and every instrument of war that the Romans had brought to bear. In less time than it took to draw a single breath, all were gone. Thick black smoke now roseskyward along with the odor of freshly charred, flesh, steel, wood, and stone.

Festus dropped to his knees screaming “The gods are among us!” Others simply ran, and still others stood their ground, awaiting orders from Spartacus. Some women and men in the crowd of escaped slaves fainted while a few stood in puddles of their own making.

The stranger then descended back to the ground, his eyes now as any other man. Unmoved by what he’d just seen, Spartacus stood ready for combat as he had many times in his life, unsure if this was a man or a god. The stranger then did something wholey unexpected. He took a knee. “It is done, Sir. The Legion is no more. Now history has been altered, I have shown you my ‘I.Q’, and you must now march on Rome itself. All hail King Spartacus!”

The stranger then disappeared from sight.