I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 158: The Governor’s Report

While Alex and his council laid the slow, careful groundwork for Rome's agricultural future, the situation on the northern frontier was rapidly deteriorating into a political powder keg. Two dispatches arrived from Noricum on the same day, delivered by breathless military couriers. Placed side-by-side on the polished wood of Alex's desk, they painted two starkly different, and utterly irreconcilable, pictures of the same volatile reality.

The first was from his sister, Lucilla. Her script was an elegant, angry slash of ink across the papyrus. As the duly appointed proconsul of the province, her report was filled with formal complaints and barely concealed fury. She wrote of the Legio V Devota's "un-Roman" and "barbaric" practices. She accused them of refusing to recognize her senatorial authority, of treating her legionaries with contempt, and of conducting their "heretic hunt" with a zealous secrecy that bordered on insubordination. They were a rogue element, a cult, and she demanded the authority to bring them to heel.

The second dispatch was from Titus Pullo. The centurion's script was the rough, forceful hand of a career soldier, but his words burned with the righteous fire of a true believer. He accused Lucilla's legion, the "perfumed peacocks of the city," of sacrilegious interference in a holy war. He claimed her scouts were disrupting their tracking operations and, worse, that Lucilla herself had been seen treating with the chieftains of "un-purified" barbarian tribes who had not yet accepted the light of the Divine Alexius. He viewed her presence as a profane obstacle to the will of his god-emperor.

The flashpoint, according to both reports, was a strategic mountain pass known to the locals as the Serpent's Tooth. It was the only viable route through a sheer mountain range, controlling access between the western and eastern halves of the province. Both Lucilla and Pullo claimed it was vital to their operations and had dispatched troops to occupy it. A frantic, coded message from Senator Rufus, who was caught in the middle, confirmed the worst: a cohort of the Legio I Urbana and a cohort of the Legio V Devota were now staring each other down from fortified camps on opposite sides of the pass. A river of melted snow was all that separated them, a flimsy truce line that could be crossed with a single thrown pilum. The two Roman forces were a hair's breadth from open, bloody conflict.

Alex stared at the map, the Serpent's Tooth a stark black V in a sea of brown and green. This was the inevitable consequence of his own machinations. He had unleashed two powerful, ambitious forces, and now they were about to collide.

He retreated to his secure chamber, the reports in hand. "Lyra," he began, outlining the situation for his analytical engine. "Two loyalist but rival military forces are in a standoff over a key strategic point. Commander Profile A, Lucilla: politically ambitious, strategically conventional, views opposing force as an undisciplined, heretical cult. Commander Profile B, Pullo: religiously zealous, strategically unconventional, views opposing force as sacrilegious interlopers. Assess the probability of armed conflict."

Lyra's analysis was swift and chilling. Probability of direct confrontation resulting in casualties is 85% within the next 72-hour operational window. Commander A's subordinate officers are professional soldiers who will view Commander B's forces as a breakdown in military discipline, justifying forceful action. Commander B's ideological framework defines any challenge to his 'holy mission' as an act of heresy, which must be met with divine fire. The psychological conditions for violence are optimal.

"Solution?" Alex asked, already knowing a conventional answer would be useless.

Standard de-escalation protocol requires the immediate insertion of a neutral, higher-ranking intermediary, vested with absolute authority over both commanders, to physically separate the forces and arbitrate the dispute.

A neutral intermediary. He couldn't send a regular legate from another legion; Pullo, in his religious fervor, would likely see him as another un-initiated interloper and refuse his authority. He couldn't go himself; his presence would legitimize Lucilla's challenge to his direct command over the Devota, making him seem like he was forced to personally intervene to control his own troops. He needed an authority figure that both sides, for different reasons, would be forced to respect. A figure who could command the absolute obedience of a soldier like Lucilla, and also command the spiritual reverence of a fanatic like Pullo.

There was only one man in the Empire who fit that description.

He summoned General Gaius Maximus. When the general arrived, Alex framed the problem not as a breakdown in military discipline, but as a crisis of faith, using the very theology he had invented to control this man.

"Gaius," he said, his expression grave. "A theological dispute has arisen on the frontier. Two of my most zealous commanders, my sister and the centurion Pullo, interpret the divine will of our great cause differently. Lucilla sees the enemy as a tactical problem to be solved with Roman order. Pullo sees it as a spiritual corruption to be burned out with Roman fire. Both are right, yet their conflict threatens to turn our swords against each other, a sin the Silent Ones would surely relish."

He placed a hand on the old general's shoulder. "This requires more than a general. It requires an arbiter of faith. It falls to you, as the Shield of Humanity, to be the final judge. You must go to the Serpent's Tooth and settle this schism."

He was not sending Maximus as a general to stop a fight between two bickering subordinates. He was elevating him, commissioning him as a High Inquisitor, the supreme authority on the military application of their new state religion.

Maximus listened, his face a mask of solemn duty. He saw the logic, the necessity. "What would you have me do, Caesar?"

"You will be the embodiment of impartial, holy authority," Alex instructed, laying out the plan that had formed in his mind, a way to resolve the conflict while simultaneously strengthening his own control. "You will travel to the pass with a cohort of your own guards. You will convene a formal council. You will listen to my sister's tactical arguments for why she needs the pass. You will listen to the centurion's spiritual arguments for why the pass must be held by the Devota. And you will honor both."

Maximus looked puzzled. "Honor both, Caesar? How?"

"After hearing their arguments," Alex explained, a shrewd light in his eyes, "You will declare that they are both correct. The pass is of immense strategic and spiritual importance. And because it is so vital, so sacred to our cause, it cannot be entrusted to any single faction whose judgment might be clouded by their own specific mission. You will therefore declare the Serpent's Tooth to be 'Sanctified Ground,' a holy site in our war against the Silence."

"And its garrison?" Maximus asked, beginning to understand the brilliant political maneuvering.

"Its garrison will be a new, independent unit," Alex said. "The 'Custodes Sacri'—the Sacred Guardians. They will be drawn from your own veteran Praetorians who accompany you. This new unit will answer only to you, as the Shield of Humanity, and through you, directly to me. You will explain that this allows both Lucilla's legions and Pullo's hunters to pass through freely to conduct their missions, while the sacred ground itself is protected by an incorruptible, neutral authority."

Maximus's grim face broke into a rare, thin smile. He saw the genius of it. The plan would defuse the immediate crisis without bloodshed. It would deny both his ambitious sister and his zealous centurion a key strategic victory, preventing either from gaining too much power. It would place a vital mountain pass under his own direct control. And most importantly, it would do it all under the powerful, unassailable logic of their new faith, reinforcing the very structure of Alex's divine authority over them all.

"I understand my duty, Caesar," Maximus said, his voice a low rumble of absolute conviction. "I will be your judgment."

He saluted, turned, and left to prepare for his journey. Alex watched him go, a sense of relief washing over him. He had found a way to turn a potential civil war into a re-affirmation of his own power. He was learning, day by day, that his fabricated religion was more than just a tool to ensure loyalty; it was a powerful, flexible instrument of statecraft and military command, capable of solving problems that swords and laws alone could not.