I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 105: The New Game

The silence that followed Senator Glabrio's proposal was thick and heavy. The senator stood there, his face a mask of smug sincerity, confident that he had backed the young Emperor into an inescapable political corner. Sabina's expression was grim, her mind already calculating the disastrous consequences of either accepting or refusing. Even Perennis seemed to shrink in on himself, recognizing a move of such high-level political treachery that it was beyond his own shadowy arts. Only Rufus seemed oblivious to the subtext, his honest face showing only approval for the idea of honoring a worthy man like Pertinax.

Alex sat on his imperial chair, his face a mask of calm consideration. The old Alex, the terrified project manager from the 21st century, would have panicked. He would have turned to Lyra, desperately asking for a probabilistic analysis, for an optimal path out of the trap. But the man who had returned from the Armenian mountains was different. He had faced down an alien god-king, commanded demigods in battle, and looked into the abyss of his own mortality. The political machinations of a few ambitious senators seemed almost trivial by comparison.

He had learned from his enemies. The Silent King had tried to unmake him with a grand, cosmic threat. Pertinax's allies were trying to unmake him with a subtle, political one. The principle was the same. He would not play their game. He would change the board.

"An excellent suggestion, Senator Glabrio," Alex said finally, his voice smooth and agreeable. A warm smile touched his lips, a smile that immediately put every shrewd political operator in the room on high alert. "Lord Pertinax has served the state with unparalleled diligence. He is a true hero of Rome. Of course he must be honored."

Glabrio's own smile widened. He had won. The Emperor had capitulated.

"He shall have his Triumph," Alex continued, leaning forward, his voice taking on a new, creative energy. "But a shared Triumph is... insufficient. A man of his stature deserves an honor unique to him. We will give him his own parade. And we will give him more." He paused, letting the suspense build. "We will give him Parthia."

The statement landed with the force of a physical shock. Sabina stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Rufus looked utterly baffled.

Alex rose from his chair and walked to the great map of the world that now dominated his study. "The war is won," he declared, his hand sweeping across the vast expanse of the East. "The legions have sacked Ctesiphon. The Parthian king is here, in Rome, a prisoner in chains. The traditional Roman way would be to annex this vast territory. To make it a new province. To bleed it dry with taxes and garrison it with tens of thousands of our soldiers for centuries to come, fighting an endless cycle of rebellions and border wars. A costly, bloody, and ultimately foolish endeavor. We will not repeat the mistakes of our ancestors."

He was speaking with a new, profound authority, the authority of a man who had seen a larger picture.

"Instead," he said, turning back to his stunned audience, "we will play a new game. The captured king, Vologases, will be a centerpiece of my Triumph. He will be paraded through the streets in his chains, a symbol of our absolute victory." He paused. "But then, in a grand ceremony at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, I will do something unexpected. I will show the world the supreme confidence and magnanimity of Rome. I will break his chains. I will 'forgive' him. And I will restore him to his throne."

"Caesar, that is madness!" Rufus finally burst out, his sense of Roman tradition horrified. "To release a defeated enemy?"

"Not as an equal, Senator," Alex corrected gently. "But as a vassal. Parthia will remain 'independent,' but it will be a client kingdom bound to Rome by an unbreakable treaty. It will be permanently demilitarized, its armies disbanded save for a small force for internal policing. Its foreign policy will be dictated by a Roman governor. And it will pay a massive, annual tribute to our treasury—a river of gold that will fund our legions and feed our people for the next fifty years. It will be our buffer state against the Scythians and the tribes of the far East. It will be our shield, and it will be our cash cow."

The sheer, brutal elegance of the strategy began to dawn on Sabina. It was a plan that gave Rome all the benefits of conquest—wealth, security, and prestige—with none of the immense costs of occupation.

"And a new territory of such importance," Alex continued, his eyes gleaming as he prepared to spring the final, perfect piece of his trap, "will require a strong hand to guide it. A Roman hand. We will create a new title, a new office of unprecedented power and honor. The office of Rector Orientis—Governor of the East. This man will be my viceroy, responsible for overseeing our new vassal state, for ensuring the tribute is paid, for rebuilding its cities, and for keeping the peace. It is a position that requires a man of unimpeachable diligence. A man of proven military experience. A man the soldiers already trust and love."

He let the silence hang for a moment before delivering the coup de grâce.

"I will give this great honor to Publius Helvius Pertinax."

The trap was now fully revealed, and it was a work of art. Alex was not just neutralizing his rival; he was glorifying him in the process. He was giving Pertinax everything his allies had just demanded, and more. Pertinax would get his Triumph—a solo one, even grander than a shared ride. He would be hailed as a hero, the savior of the army. And then he would be granted an office of immense prestige and power... an office that would require him to remain in the East, thousands of miles from Rome, for the next ten, perhaps twenty, years. He would be honored, celebrated, and completely and totally removed from Roman politics. It was an honorable, glorious, political assassination.

Senator Glabrio stood speechless, his jaw agape. He had come here to corner the Emperor and had instead been handed a victory so total, so magnificent, that he could not possibly refuse it on his patron's behalf. He would have to accept, and in doing so, he would be sealing Pertinax's exile.

Sabina looked at Alex with a newfound awe. This was not the frightened boy she had first met. This was not even the ruthless commander she had worked with. This was a political artist of the highest order, a man who could see the entire board and manipulate his enemies into demanding their own cages.

Rufus, for his part, was pleased. He was a traditionalist who had always been wary of imperial overstretch. The idea of creating a stable, tribute-paying buffer state instead of a costly new province appealed to his sense of Roman prudence. Alex had found a way to satisfy everyone, all while achieving his own secret aims.

Alex looked at his small council and felt a sense of profound clarity. He had finally done it. He had integrated his two worlds. He had used the glory and fear he had cultivated on the frontier, the reputation of a god-killer, to play the intricate, deadly game of a Caesar. He had taken an existential threat and transmuted it into political capital.

His survival, he now understood, was not about simply avoiding assassination. It was about mastering this constant, fluid balancing act: using the necessities of external expansion to secure his internal power, and using his internal political mastery to fuel the grand, outward-looking destiny of his new Roman Empire. The game was larger and more complex than he had ever imagined. And for the first time, he felt truly ready to play it.