I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 104: The Hero’s Welcome

Alex's return to Rome was a masterpiece of stagecraft. He did not limp back as the exhausted leader of a battered, secret expedition. He arrived weeks later, his return journey carefully managed by Perennis's agents, who spread tales of his 'tour' of the Eastern front. His official entry into the city was timed to coincide perfectly with the stunning news from Mesopotamia: the great city of Ctesiphon, the heart of the Parthian Empire, had fallen to the legions of Rome.

The city exploded in a paroxysm of joy. The victory was total, a triumph on a scale not seen since the days of Trajan. The war, which had begun amidst whispers and anxieties, had ended in a blaze of glory. And at the center of it all was their young, visionary Emperor, the man who had promised them victory and had delivered it in less than a season.

The Senate, swept up in the tide of public ecstasy, voted him a full Triumph, the highest and most sacred honor a Roman could achieve. The city prepared for a celebration that would echo through the ages.

As the day of the Triumph dawned, Alex stood on a balcony of the palace, looking out over the sprawling city. He was once again clad in immaculate white and imperial purple, the dirt and blood of the Armenian mountains washed away, a distant memory. But as he prepared to step into his role as the conquering hero, Sabina's pre-briefing from the night before echoed in his mind. The city you left is not the city you have returned to.

The Triumphal procession was everything he could have imagined. The streets were a sea of humanity, the roar of the crowd a physical force that shook the very air. Rose petals rained down from the rooftops. The procession was a long, glorious parade of Roman might: legionary cohorts marching in perfect step, their Ignis Steel blades flashing in the sun; wagons groaning under the weight of captured Parthian treasures; and chained lines of dejected Parthian nobles, including their captured king, destined for a ceremonial prison.

At the heart of it all, riding in a magnificent golden chariot drawn by four white horses, was Alex. He was the picture of a living god, his face painted red in the tradition of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, a slave whispering in his ear the ancient reminder, "Remember thou art mortal." The irony of the phrase was not lost on him.

He smiled and waved to the adoring crowds, playing his part. But he was also watching, analyzing, taking the political temperature of his city. And he saw the signs Sabina had warned him about.

The crowds roared his name, "Caesar! Imperator! Triumphator!" but he saw other things, too. As his chariot passed the steps of the Temple of the Divine Julius, he saw his sister, Lucilla, standing on a specially erected balcony, surrounded by war widows and their children. She was dressed in the simple, dark robes of a mourner, a stark contrast to the celebratory chaos around her. When the crowd saw her, a different kind of cheer went up, one filled not with warlike fervor, but with a deep, reverent affection. "Ave, Mater Dolorosa!" they cried. "Hail, the Sorrowful Mother!" Lucilla placed a hand on her heart and gave a sad, graceful bow, a perfect performance of shared grief. She had become a potent symbol, a focal point for the private cost of his public glory.

He saw other signs as well. Banners hung from the windows of the great merchant guilds, not with the Emperor's crest, but with the symbol of an overflowing cornucopia. The inscriptions read: "Gratitude to the Lady Sabina for The People's Bread." He had been gone for months, and in his absence, Sabina had become the public face of the city's prosperity and stability. She had not usurped his power, but she had certainly built her own formidable base within it.

And most troublingly, he saw small groups of off-duty soldiers and veterans in the crowd. They cheered for him, yes, but when they raised their wine cups, he heard them offer a different toast. "To the Soldier's Father!" they roared. "To Pertinax!"

The truth was laid bare for him amidst the celebration. He had left Rome as its absolute master. He returned as its conquering hero, but he now found that the stage of power was more crowded. He had saved the world from a silent, alien god, but he had, in the process, allowed new, entirely human powers to grow in his own capital. His authority, once absolute, was now... shared.

That evening, after the endless ceremonies had concluded, the tense reunion he had been anticipating took place in his private study. Sabina was there, along with Perennis and a deeply weary Senator Rufus.

Sabina did not mince words. She laid out the reality of the situation, her voice sharp and clinical. "You return a conqueror, Caesar," she said, her arms crossed as she paced before his desk. "And the people love a conqueror. But you return to a city that has learned to function without you, perhaps even to thrive. Lucilla has captured the hearts of the common mothers; her power is emotional, and therefore difficult to fight. Through the guilds, I now hold the loyalty of the city's commerce. And Pertinax... Pertinax has won the love of the army."

She placed a stack of ledgers on his desk with a heavy thud. "And this is the price of your war. The treasury reports. The cost of funding the legions, combined with the cost of subsidizing the price of bread to prevent riots in your absence, has been astronomical. We are on the verge of bankruptcy."

She looked him in the eye, her expression grim. "Your victory in the East must be a profitable one, Caesar. The stories of your divine battles are inspiring, but they will not fill an empty granary. If the wealth of Parthia—the tribute, the slaves, the assets—does not begin flowing back to Rome, and soon, this entire city will go bankrupt by the end of the year. Your popularity will evaporate the first time a mother cannot buy bread for her child."

The irony was crushing. His grand expansionist war, the one he had justified as necessary to secure Rome's future, had instead made its present dangerously precarious. He was riding a tiger of conquest and could not afford to get off. His original, simple goal—to create a stable empire so he would not be assassinated—seemed further away than ever.

As if on cue, a palace aide entered and announced a delegation from the Senate had arrived to offer their formal congratulations and discuss the arrangements for the spoils of war. Alex sighed and prepared himself for another round of political theater.

The delegation was led, to his surprise, by Senator Glabrio, Pertinax's most vocal supporter. The senator's words were honeyed, his praise for the Emperor's glorious victory almost sickeningly effusive. But it was all a preamble to the true purpose of his visit.

"Caesar, the Senate is united in its gratitude," Glabrio said, his smile wide and insincere. "And we feel that all who contributed to this great victory should share in its glory. In honor of this, and to reward the man who so diligently and brilliantly supplied our victorious legions, the Senate formally proposes that the noble Lord Pertinax be granted a share in your Triumph upon his return from the East."

The proposal landed in the room like a perfectly thrown spear. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Let the conquering hero who won the war," Glabrio concluded, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent, "and the great administrator who fed the army, ride through the city side-by-side! Two heroes, celebrated as one!"

It was a politically brilliant and deeply insidious move. They were attempting to elevate Pertinax to his level, to force him to share the sacred, singular glory of the Triumph. If Alex refused, he would look petty, jealous, and ungrateful, a slap in the face to the army's new favorite. If he accepted, he would be publicly legitimizing his greatest rival on the grandest stage imaginable, acknowledging him as an equal in the eyes of all of Rome. He was trapped.