I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 172: The Eastern Ultimatum

The reports from the east lay on Alex's desk like coiled vipers. Maximus's mission had been a stunning success; the eastern legions were marching for the Danube, their loyalty bought with a potent cocktail of honor and silver. But the victory felt hollow, incomplete. It was a solution to a symptom, not the disease.

"Maximus has secured the legions," Alex said, his voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the quiet of his study. He looked across the desk at his spymaster, Perennis, whose impassive face revealed nothing. "But that only removes Pertinax's sword. It does not remove his ambition. A wounded lion, left to fester in its den, is still dangerous. It grows bitter. It plots. We must cage him." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Perennis gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "An empty cage is easily escaped, Caesar. We must give him a new one. A smaller one."

Alex now possessed the weapon he needed. Perennis's agents, with their whispers and their carefully cultivated sources, had confirmed the secret meetings between Pertinax and the Parthian envoys. It was not concrete proof of treason—no signed treaty, no chest of Parthian gold had been found—but in the world of Roman politics, the shadow of a crime was often more potent than the crime itself. It was a political poison, and Alex intended to administer it with surgical precision. He would not give Pertinax the dignity of a direct accusation or a trial. He would dismantle him from a distance, piece by piece.

He began by dictating a series of dispatches to a trusted scribe, Perennis at his side providing the occasional quiet, venomous suggestion. This would be a coordinated, multi-pronged attack on Pertinax's power base.

The first target was his reputation in Rome.

"To Senator Scipio," Alex dictated, "and the esteemed members of the Party of Jupiter. My greetings. I wish for you to raise a matter of grave importance in the next session of the Senate." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You will speak on the matter of senatorial integrity and the corrupting influence of foreign powers. You will lament the sad state of affairs where the wealth of Persia or the honeyed words of Parthia might sway a Roman from his sacred duty."

He looked at Perennis, who gave another slight nod. "You will not name Pertinax," Alex continued. "You will not name anyone. You will speak only of 'rumors' and 'unfortunate whispers' concerning 'certain governors in the east' who have perhaps grown too familiar with our ancient enemies. You will express your profound hope that such tales are baseless, a slander against honorable men. You will be a concerned patriot, publicly worrying about a problem that you are, in fact, creating."

It was a public warning shot, a poisoned arrow loosed into the heart of the Curia. It would force every senator allied with Pertinax to nervously re-evaluate their position. To continue supporting him would be to risk being tainted by the same brush of treason.

The second target was Pertinax's foreign support.

"A diplomatic envoy will be dispatched to the court of King Vologases at Ctesiphon," Alex announced. "He will carry a message of renewed friendship and unwavering peace between our two great empires." He smiled, a cold, thin expression. "He will also carry a gift. Twenty of Celer's finest steel swords, and a dozen of the new repeating crossbows. A demonstration of our... craftsmanship."

The gift was a veiled threat, a showcase of the very military technology the Parthians would face if they chose to break the peace. "And buried deep within the flowery, diplomatic language of the main scroll," Alex added, "there will be a single, private addendum for the King's eyes only." He dictated the chilling sentence: "The Emperor is, of course, aware of the unauthorized and unproductive counsel his loyal governor in Antioch has been receiving from certain over-eager Parthian nobles. The Emperor trusts the wise King of Parthia, in the spirit of our continued peace, will put a swift end to such frivolous conversations, lest they be misunderstood in Rome."

He was telling the Parthian King, in no uncertain terms: I know. Stop it. The risk of backing a failed coup would now far outweigh any potential reward. Pertinax's foreign lifeline was about to be cut.

The third and final target was the man himself. Alex dismissed the scribe, taking up a stylus to write this message personally. It would be a secret dispatch, carried by his fastest and most trusted imperial courier, a man who would ride day and night. It was the killing blow.

He began the message not with an accusation, but with cruel, ironic praise.

To my loyal and esteemed governor, Publius Helvius Pertinax, he wrote. I am writing to commend you on your extraordinary service in Antioch. I have been made aware of your tireless efforts in keeping the Parthian court occupied with endless talks and meetings. To so skillfully ensnare their envoys in meaningless diplomacy while the Empire mobilizes for a great war in the north is a masterstroke of statecraft. You have served Rome well by keeping our enemies talking while we prepare for action.

He was reframing Pertinax's treason as a cunning and successful diplomatic mission carried out on his own orders. He was stealing the man's own conspiracy and wearing it as a medal.

He then delivered the news of Pertinax's "great honor."

Your subtle and effective service in the east is, however, now concluded. I have need of your administrative talents elsewhere. The province of Britannia has long suffered from mismanagement and unrest. It is a cold, damp, and difficult land, one that requires a governor of immense fortitude and experience. I can think of no man better suited to bring Roman order to that remote and troubled isle than you. I am therefore honoring you with an immediate appointment as Governor of Britannia, with all the titles and dignities befitting such a vital post.

Britannia. The edge of the known world. A cold, damp, political graveyard from which no one ever returned to prominence in Rome. It was an exile from which there was no appeal, far from any significant military power or political influence. It was oblivion, wrapped in the language of an honor.

Finally, he delivered the ultimatum, the closing of the cage door.

I trust you will accept this great honor with the speed and loyalty you have always shown the state. You must make haste; the situation in the north is grave, and the sooner you can stabilize Britannia, the better. A refusal, or indeed any delay in your departure from Antioch, would of course be tragically misunderstood by the Senate. They are, as you know, already so concerned about these baseless whispers of Parthian gold influencing Roman officials. It would be a personal tragedy for me if your great and honorable name were to be tarnished by your seeming reluctance to leave the company of your newfound Parthian friends.

He sealed the dispatch with his personal sigil. The trap was set. He had systematically dismantled Pertinax's entire power base without a single act of open aggression. He had poisoned his reputation in Rome, terrified his foreign allies, and now, he had given the man himself a simple, brutal choice: accept political oblivion at the edge of the world, or stay and be publicly exposed as a traitor, to be hunted down by the very legions he once commanded.

Alex had chosen to destroy his most dangerous traditional rival not with a sword, but with information, psychology, and the cold, hard application of political pressure. It was a far more elegant, and far less bloody, solution than a civil war. It was the act of an Emperor who was finally learning how to wield the true, terrible power of his office.