The na Pertinax struck Alex with the force of a physical blow. It was the one na from his late-night "communion" with Lyra that he had hoped to never hear again. Pertinax. The respected general. The man of the people. The lover his sister had taken after her husband's death. The man who, historically, would be the one to succeed him after his assassination. He was not just another disgruntled senator; he was a viable, powerful, and deeply respected alternative to the "erratic" Emperor Commodus. Lucilla had just escalated the ga to an entirely new level. She was no longer just trying to discredit him; she was actively grooming his replacent.
That night, Alex consulted with Lyra, the low, stable power from his secret generator allowing for a brief but critical strategic session.
"Give everything you have on Publius Helvius Pertinax," he commanded.
The laptop screen lit up. Pertinax, Lyra's voice stated. Son of a freedman. Rose through the military ranks on pure rit. Served with distinction on the Danube and in Britain. Forr consul. Known for his discipline, his personal frugality, and his stoic deanor. He is, in many ways, the embodint of the traditional Roman virtues your father championed.
"He's the perfect rival," Alex muttered.
Correct, Lyra affird. His public image is flawless. He is deeply popular with the military establishnt and respected by the old guard of the Senate. He represents stability and tradition, a direct contrast to the radical reforms and perceived instability of your reign. Lucilla has chosen her champion well.
The next day, Alex's war council was a chamber of grim faces. The threat of Pertinax was more potent than any military coup. A coup could be crushed. But an idea—the idea of a better, more stable, more Roman emperor—was a weapon that was far harder to defeat.
Maximus, true to form, advocated for a direct solution. "He is conspiring with the Augusta, a known traitor. That makes him a traitor as well," the general growled. "We have a list. We can add one more na to it. Let the Speculatores pay him a visit, and this problem will be solved by morning."
"No," Alex said imdiately. The thought of proscribing a man as popular and respected as Pertinax made his blood run cold. "Killing tellus and his cronies was one thing. They were corrupt, and they had fled the city like cowards. Pertinax is a war hero. To have him assassinated would be seen as an act of pure, naked tyranny. It would likely trigger a civil war, with the legions from Britain and the Rhine declaring for him against us. It would be a catastrophe."
Perennis, ever the spymaster, offered another solution. "We do not need to kill him, Caesar. We rely need to neutralize him. We can use the secret you possess. Blackmail. An anonymous ssage to the right people, a hint of his illicit affair with your sister, the Augusta... It would destroy his reputation for stoic virtue. He would be ruined."
Alex considered it for a mont. It was tempting. But he quickly discarded the idea. "No," he said again. "That blade has two edges. To reveal his affair, I would have to reveal Lucilla's secret as well. It would destroy my leverage over her, my only ans of controlling her. She would beco a cornered, rabid animal with nothing left to lose. She would be more dangerous than ever."
He was trapped. He couldn't kill Pertinax. He couldn't blackmail him. But he could not allow him to remain as a free-roaming, alternative center of power for the Senate's discontent to rally around.
He paced the study, his mind racing. He rembered Lyra's last piece of advice, before her voice had faded into silence weeks ago. They expect you to play their ga. You must invent a new one. Don't counter the threat. Absorb it. Don't push your enemy away. Pull him closer. It was a strategy of breathtaking audacity, a political gambit famously used by the first and greatest of the emperors, Augustus.
A slow smile spread across Alex's face. His council looked at him, confused by his sudden change in deanor.
"We will not attack Pertinax," Alex announced. "We will embrace him. We will celebrate him. We will drown him in honors until he cannot breathe."
A few days later, Ro was abuzz with news of a grand public ceremony. The Emperor, it was announced, would formally welco the "Hero of Britain" back to the city. Alex threw the full weight of his imperial treasury into the event. The streets were decorated with garlands, and free wine was distributed to the people. He was setting a massive public stage.
Pertinax was forced to attend, as were Lucilla and the entire Senate. They arrived expecting a confrontation, a public denunciation. Instead, they were t with a spectacle of praise. Alex, standing before the Temple of Jupiter, delivered a soaring oration lauding Pertinax's military victories, his loyal service, his embodint of Roman virtue. He completely wrong-footed his enemies, who had co prepared for a fight and were instead t with a suffocating embrace.
Then, at the height of the ceremony, with all of Ro watching, Alex played his trump card.
"The challenges facing our great city are imnse," he declared, his voice ringing across the Forum. "The famine, the rebuilding of our port, the restoration of faith in our institutions. To manage this great work, I cannot act alone. I need a man of unimpeachable character, a man of iron will and proven administrative skill, by my side here in the heart of Ro."
He turned and gestured graciously towards the stunned general. "Therefore, by my authority as Emperor, I am hereby appointing the honorable Publius Helvius Pertinax to the vital and powerful position of Praefectus Urbi—Prefect of the City of Ro!"
A wave of shock, followed by a roar of approval from the crowd, swept through the Forum. The appointnt was a stroke of political genius, an inescapable, gilded trap.
Pertinax stood frozen, his mind reeling. He saw the trap instantly. On the surface, it was a massive, undeniable honor. To refuse it, in this public setting, would be a grave insult to the Emperor and an open admission of disloyalty. He would be branded a traitor on the spot. He had to accept.
But the position of City Prefect was a poisoned chalice. He would now be directly responsible for all the city's most intractable problems. The grain riots? They were now his problem to solve. The crumbling infrastructure? His responsibility. The rampant street cri? His failure. If he succeeded in fixing these issues, the credit would go to the wise Emperor who had appointed him. If, as was more likely, he failed, the bla would fall squarely on his shoulders, shattering his reputation as a capable leader and proving he was not fit for higher office.
Most brilliantly of all, the appointnt brought him directly into Alex's governnt. He was no longer an independent, alternative power center. He was an imperial official, bound by solemn oaths of loyalty. He was a lion who had just willingly walked into a cage, lured by a magnificent piece of bait.
He had no choice. With the eyes of the city upon him, Pertinax slowly walked forward and knelt before Alex. His face was a mask of controlled, icy fury, but he spoke the words required of him. "I accept this great honor, Caesar," he said through gritted teeth. "And I swear my undying loyalty to you and to the state of Ro."
Alex smiled down at him, a benevolent, imperial smile that did not reach his eyes. He looked over Pertinax's kneeling form, his gaze finding Lucilla in the crowd. The look on her face was one of pure, venomous hatred, mixed with a dawning, horrified respect for the political monster she had helped to create. She had sent her greatest champion to challenge him, and Alex had just conscripted him into his own army.
Later that day, Alex returned to his study, a surge of triumph warming him. He had faced down the greatest political threat to his reign and had neutralized it without spilling a single drop of blood. He had not just played the ga; he had changed the very nature of it.
But his triumph was short-lived. A coded dispatch was waiting for him. It was from General Maximus at Ostia.
"Caesar," the ssage read. "The excavation of the strange vessel continues. The work is slow and dangerous. But we have found what appears to be a breach in the hull, likely from the original impact centuries ago. We have managed to clear the silt and debris from an opening."
Alex's breath caught in his throat as he read the final line.
"We are ready to go inside."
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