I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 170: The Devil’s Bargain

The wind howled outside the tent, a lonely, desolate sound that mirrored the sudden, cold reality that had descended within. The air, once thick with personal animosity and the clash of wills, had been scoured clean by the chilling news from the east. Rufus and Pullo had been dismissed with a sharp, curt gesture from Maximus. They now stood alone, the two most powerful military figures in the Roman north: Lucilla, the political animal, and Maximus, the stoic soldier. The game had changed, and they both knew it.

Lucilla placed the dispatch detailing Pertinax's conspiracy on the center of the campaign table. The papyrus, with its damning whispers of Parthian gold and treacherous alliances, lay between them like a drawn dagger.

"It seems," she said, her voice a low, level thing, stripped of its earlier fury, "that we have a larger problem than the proper disciplining of a few religious fanatics." She looked up, her eyes meeting Maximus's, and for the first time, he saw not just ambition, but a flicker of genuine, pragmatic concern for the state. "A civil war with Pertinax, funded by Parthia... Rome would bleed. The Danube would fall. Everything would be lost."

This was the new reality. Their personal conflict in Noricum, which had seemed so vital moments before, was now a dangerous indulgence, a sideshow while the main tent was being set on fire. They were forced to see each other not as rivals for control of a province, but as the only two military powers in the north capable of responding to a crisis that threatened to consume them all. The enemy was no longer in the tent with them; he was a thousand miles away, plotting treason.

It was Lucilla, ever the opportunist, who saw the new shape of the board first. She saw a path through the crisis that led directly to her own objectives. She would not let this new danger go to waste.

"I will accept your 'judgment' regarding the pass, General," she said, the word 'judgment' still carrying a faint trace of sarcasm. "I will cease my interference with the Devota's... activities. I will even provide them with logistical support from my provincial stores, as per your ruling." She paused, letting her concessions settle in the air. "For now."

She leaned forward, her hands flat on the table, her gaze sharp and intense. "In return for my cooperation, in recognition of this new, greater threat, I want something. Not from my brother in his palace. Not from the Senate. I want it from you, Gaius Maximus. As Magister Militum of the Roman army."

Maximus remained impassive, his face a granite mask, but his eyes narrowed slightly. He waited.

"I want my Exploratores Lucillae," she stated, her voice devoid of any pleading. It was a demand. "My scouts. I want them officially recognized by the military command. Not as temporary tribal auxiliaries, but as a legitimate, independent legionary unit. A new legion, to be formally entered onto the rolls as the Legio II Norica, the Second Norican Legion. I want them armed from the imperial forges. I want them equipped with the new repeating crossbows from Vulcania. I want them paid from the imperial treasury at the rate of a citizen legionary. And I want you, as the supreme commander of all Roman forces, to give your official, written sanction to their creation."

Maximus felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. The price she was asking was immense. It was a breathtaking political power play, executed with flawless precision. She was asking him to use his unimpeachable authority, the authority granted to him by Alex, to legitimize the creation of her own private army. An army of foreign barbarians, loyal only to her, armed with the Empire's most advanced weaponry. It went against his every conservative, traditionalist instinct. It was handing a loaded crossbow to his Emperor's greatest rival.

He didn't need to consult Alex to know that this was a terrible idea, a seed that would almost certainly grow into a poisonous tree. His first instinct was to refuse, to call her bluff, to trust that her own self-preservation would force her to cooperate against Pertinax without this concession.

But then he looked at the dispatch on the table. He thought of the eastern legions, their loyalty bought with Parthian gold, marching on a defenseless Italy while the northern armies were paralyzed by infighting. He thought of the horde, that silent, inhuman tide, waiting for any sign of Roman weakness to pour across the Danube. A civil war with Pertinax now was a certain disaster. Lucilla's ambition... that was a potential problem, a danger for the future. His duty, as a soldier and as the Shield of Humanity, was to deal with the immediate, existential threat first.

He also saw, in a flash of strategic insight that surprised even himself, an opportunity. A way to grant her wish while binding her, and her new army, to their cause. He would not just give her the sword she craved; he would chain her wrist to its hilt. This was a decision a commander had to make in the field. He would not trouble the Emperor with it. He would act.

"I will grant your request," Maximus said, his voice as heavy and final as a stone being lowered onto a tomb. Lucilla's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She had not expected him to agree so readily.

"On two conditions," Maximus continued, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "First, your new legion, this Legio II Norica, will swear a public oath of loyalty. Not just to you, as their commander, but a full sacramentum to the Emperor, and to me, as his duly appointed Magister Militum. They will be your legion, but they will be part of the Roman army, subject to its laws and its supreme command. Their loyalty will have two masters."

Lucilla's expression tightened, but she nodded. It was a reasonable, lawful demand she could not refuse without revealing her true intentions.

"Second," Maximus said, his eyes boring into hers, "your new legion will not be a provincial garrison. They will not be your personal bodyguard. Their first duty, the very purpose of their creation and their arming, will be to serve as the vanguard in the great war against the silent enemies of the state. They will be the first into the forest, the first to face the horrors there. They will prove their newfound loyalty to Rome with their blood, and with the blood of our enemies. Your ambition will serve the Emperor's holy cause, Lady Lucilla, whether you intend it to or not."

Now it was Lucilla's turn to be trapped. He was giving her everything she wanted—the army, the weapons, the legitimacy—but at a price. The price was service. The price was sacrifice. Her new legion would be the tip of the spear, the force that would take the heaviest casualties in the brutal, grinding war to come. She could not refuse without revealing her ambition as a hollow power grab.

A slow, cold smile spread across her lips. It was a smile of respect for a worthy opponent. "You drive a hard bargain, General," she said. "Very well. I accept your conditions."

The devil's bargain was struck. She would have her legion, a massive, unprecedented increase in her personal power base. Maximus, in return, had secured her temporary allegiance, defused a civil war before it could begin, and co-opted her new army into Alex's holy war, binding her to their shared fate with chains of iron and blood.

He stood. "Then it is settled. I will draft the official charter myself." He turned to leave the tent, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders. He would send a report to Alex in Rome, informing his Emperor of the new political reality he had just created. He would not ask for permission. He would state it as a fact. He had acted as a Roman general must: he had made a hard choice in the field to secure the immediate future of the Empire, and he would live, or die, with the consequences.