Chapter 6: A Wolf in the Fold
The thought of confronting a potential assassin, a man Lyra described as a master of manipulation, made Alex's stomach churn. It was one thing to gather intel from a safe distance, another entirely to step into the viper's nest. But Lyra was right. Circumstantial evidence wasn't enough. He needed proof, and there was only one way to get it.
He took a deep, steadying breath and walked to the entrance of his tent. He summoned the same young guard as before, who now looked at him with an expression of profound, almost religious awe. The new emperor was not the wastrel they had feared; he was a serious, pious man, already deep in the business of the empire. The rumors were spreading.
"Find me the Praetorian Prefect, Tigidius Perennis," Alex commanded, his voice steady. "Tell him I wish to discuss the security arrangements for my father's funeral procession to Rome. It is a matter of utmost urgency."
The pretext was perfect, a natural concern for a new ruler. It gave him a legitimate reason to discuss security, guards, and logistics—the very areas where Perennis was cooking the books.
Less than half an hour later, Perennis arrived. He was everything the historical busts had suggested, and more. Where Maximus was granite and grit, Perennis was polished marble. He was handsome in a sharp, predatory way, his dark hair immaculately oiled, his purple-striped toga perfectly draped. He moved with a liquid grace that spoke of years of practice in the halls of power. He entered the tent and performed a flawless proskynesis, bowing to the ground in a show of utter subservience that felt far more theatrical and less sincere than Maximus's stiff nod.
"Caesar," Perennis said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone. "You summoned me. My heart aches for your loss, but it swells with pride to see you take up your divine father's mantle with such gravity. The entire Praetorian Guard, my very life, is at your command."
It was a masterclass in flattery. Alex felt the instinctual, human urge to be reassured by it, to believe this charming, capable man was on his side.
But in his ear, Lyra was a cold, clinical scalpel, dissecting every word. "Rhetorical analysis complete," she whispered. "Note the use of hyperbole and emotional appeal. He is attempting to establish a baseline of effusive loyalty to make any future deviation seem out of character. Standard manipulative tactic."
Alex gestured for Perennis to rise. "Thank you, Prefect. Your loyalty is... noted." He let the slight pause hang in the air. "I wish to discuss the journey back to Rome. My father's body must be protected. The Praetorians will form his honor guard. I want to understand the security protocols you have in place."
Perennis smiled, a flash of white teeth. "But of course, Caesar. Your safety and your father's honor are my only concerns. I have already doubled the guard on your personal quarters and arranged for my most trusted centurions to oversee the procession."