I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 128: The Price of Loyalty

While Alex wrestled with the invisible threat of a silent, alien network, a far more noisy and conventional political crisis was brewing in the Senate. The new factions he had created, the volatile new pieces he had placed on the Roman chessboard, were making their first moves, and their ambitions threatened to collide with explosive force.

The issue, on its surface, was a trivial one, a tedious border dispute between the northern provinces of Pannonia and Noricum. A newly discovered vein of iron ore had been found in a remote, mountainous region along their shared border. Both provincial governors, ambitious men eager to increase the wealth and prestige of their territories, laid claim to it. What had started as a legal squabble over tax rights had escalated, with both governors sending local militia units to "secure" the mining territory. It was a small, petty conflict, but if left unchecked, it could fester into a genuine civil war.

Traditionally, the Emperor would dispatch a neutral, veteran legion from a neighboring province to act as peacekeepers, to separate the factions and impose a Roman peace while the lawyers in the city debated. It was a standard, if slow, procedure.

But Lucilla, in her new, powerful role as Prefect of the Walls and commander of the Legio I Urbana, saw not a tedious administrative problem, but a golden opportunity. She came before the Senate, not as a petitioner, but as a confident commander-in-chief, her presence radiating a new, martial authority that made the older senators deeply uncomfortable.

"Fathers of the Senate," she began, her voice ringing with a clear, patriotic fervor. "This dispute between two Roman governors is a stain upon the honor of the Empire. It is a matter of internal Roman order. And as such, it is the perfect first mission for the new legion that you, in your wisdom, have created to defend that order."

She made her proposal. "Let us not trouble the frontier legions, whose eyes must remain fixed upon the barbarian threat. Let the Legio I Urbana march. Let the Sons of the She-Wolf, the very men who defended this city's walls, now prove their worth as keepers of the Emperor's peace in the provinces. It will be a valuable training exercise and a clear message that disorder within our borders will not be tolerated."

The proposal was a brilliant and audacious political move. She was seeking to expand her legion's mandate beyond the walls of Rome, to give them real-world experience and establish their legitimacy as a deployable military force, equal in status to the frontier armies. She was transforming her "home guard" into a true legion. The senators, many of whom were already indebted to her for her public works, murmured in approval.

Before the motion could be debated further, the proceedings were interrupted by the arrival of an imperial courier, his boots still dusty from the northern roads. He carried a dispatch, not for the Senate, but directly for the Emperor's office. The message was brought to Alex, who was observing the session from a screened alcove.

He broke the seal. The dispatch was from the northern wilderness, from Titus Pullo and the Legio V Devota. Pullo, having learned of the border dispute from passing merchants, was making his own formal petition. The centurion's script was rough but his words were filled with a passionate, almost holy, zeal.

To the Divine Alexius-Aesculapius, it began, the form of address alone a testament to the legion's fanatical culture. We have heard of the squabbling of the provincial governors. My men, who have spent the last season forging your new roads through this wilderness, are the closest military force to the dispute. We are hardened. We are ready. We humbly petition for the honor of resolving this conflict. Let us, the Devoted Legion, prove that our loyalty and discipline have been reborn in your divine fire. Let us show the Empire that we are worthy of the second chance you have granted us. We will bring your peace to the mountains of Noricum.

Alex stared at the parchment, a feeling of cold, political dread washing over him. He was trapped in a pincer movement of his own making. The two new, volatile, and fanatically loyal factions he had created were now in direct competition, both demanding the same prize, the same chance to prove their worth.

He was faced with an impossible choice.

If he chose Lucilla's Urban Legion, he would be massively empowering his greatest political rival. He would be setting a dangerous precedent, allowing her city-based army to operate in the provinces, legitimizing her as a true military commander on the imperial stage.

If he chose Pullo's Devoted Legion, he would be seen to be favoring a legion of former traitors, disgraced mutineers, and religious fanatics. The traditionalist Senate, already unnerved by the stories of this strange "Cult of the Scar," would be horrified. It would seem as though he were unleashing his own private army of zealots upon the provinces.

And if he chose neither, if he fell back on the traditional solution of sending a regular, neutral legion, he would be seen as weak and indecisive. He would be simultaneously snubbing the beloved heroes of the city and the devoted pioneers of his holy war. It would be a slap in the face to both Lucilla and Pullo, a move that would breed resentment and make him look like he had lost control of the very forces he had unleashed.

The political chessboard was suddenly a minefield. Both Lucilla, in the Senate, and the unseen Pullo, on the frontier, were watching his every move. The loyalty of both factions was on the line.

Alex stood from his seat and entered the Senate floor, his presence bringing an immediate hush to the chamber. He held up Pullo's dispatch.

"A complication, Senators," he announced, his voice calm and measured. "And an opportunity. The brave men of the Legio V Devota, who are already on the frontier, have also volunteered for this task."

He let the senators absorb this, their minds surely imagining a bloody clash between the two ambitious legions. Then, he offered a solution so unexpected, so bizarrely bureaucratic, that it pleased no one and yet could be refused by none.

"Both legions have shown a laudable eagerness to serve the state," he declared. "And both shall be honored. A single cohort from the Legio I Urbana, representing the heart of our city, and a single cohort from the Legio V Devota, representing the strength of our frontier, will march to the disputed territory."

He paused, letting them process this strange pairing of city dandies and frontier fanatics. "They will not go as an army of occupation," he continued, his voice taking on the tone of a wise administrator. "That would be an overreaction. They will go as a Joint Peacekeeping Commission. Their role will not be to fight, but to secure the contested mines and to keep the peace between the provincial militias until the legal scholars in Rome can resolve the dispute."

It was a brilliant move to defuse the immediate military crisis. But then he delivered the masterstroke, the move that would transform the entire situation into a political quagmire for his rivals.

"And such a delicate commission, requiring a balance of military authority and civic prudence, cannot be commanded by a general alone. It requires a statesman." He looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on the one man whose integrity was absolute. "I am therefore granting special, proconsular authority for this mission to our most respected and incorruptible elder: the Senator Servius Rufus."

The senators stared in stunned silence. Rufus himself looked as though he had been struck by a mild bolt of lightning. Alex had taken an explosive, brewing conflict between his two most volatile and fanatical military factions and had just buried it under a mountain of paperwork. He was forcing them to work together, side-by-side, under the direct command of the one man in Rome who was a stickler for procedure, a bastion of old-school tradition, and who distrusted both of them implicitly. The potential for administrative chaos, for procedural delays, for pure, infuriating, bureaucratic friction was almost limitless.

The outcome of the border dispute was now completely, utterly unpredictable. And in the meantime, the two legions that threatened to become too powerful would be too busy fighting each other for requisitions and filing reports in triplicate to pose a threat to him.