Chapter 28: The Untouchable Enemy
The days following the Night of Long Knives were quiet. It was an unnatural, heavy silence, the kind that follows a violent storm. Rome was cowed. The Senate, once a hotbed of conspiracy and insolent debate, was now a model of terrified obedience. Senators who had once met Alex's gaze with contempt now bowed so low their foreheads nearly scraped the marble. The news of the bloody events in the palace had spread through the city like a fever, embellished with every telling. The new emperor, the whispers said, was not the just and pious reformer he appeared to be. Beneath the stoic facade was a man of terrifying, decisive violence. He had crushed a Praetorian coup in a single night, and the bodies had been displayed for all to see.
Alex had won. He had absolute control. And yet, he felt more powerless than ever.
The source of his frustration held court daily in her magnificent palace on the Quirinal Hill. Lucilla. His sister, the confessed mastermind of the coup, remained utterly untouched. She moved through Roman society with her head held high, a serene, regal smile fixed on her face. She attended the games, made offerings at the temples, and hosted lavish dinner parties. She acted as if nothing had happened, as if a cohort of soldiers hadn't just been slaughtered for acting on her orders. Her very presence was an act of defiance, a public declaration that she was above his reach.
He could command legions, execute traitors, and rewrite the laws of the empire, but he could not touch her. She was the Augusta, sister of the Emperor, and daughter of the deified Marcus Aurelius. Her person was sacrosanct, protected by a shield of piety, tradition, and law that was stronger than any legion's iron. Every day she walked free was a quiet mockery of his authority.
He summoned his council to his study. The mood was one of shared, simmering frustration.
"Caesar, this is an unacceptable state of affairs," General Maximus began, his voice a low growl of contained rage. He paced the floor, his armor creaking with every agitated step. "She walks the city freely while the men she hired rot in a traitor's ditch. This is not justice. It is an insult to the men who died defending you." He stopped and looked at Alex, his eyes hard. "Give the word. We do not need a trial. My Speculatores are more than just spies. They are discreet. We can arrange an... accident. A tragic fall from a balcony. A sudden, untraceable illness. A tipped carriage on a sharp turn. Let us end this, quietly and permanently."
Before Alex could even respond, Senator Servius Rufus spoke, his voice sharp with horror. "General, you speak of high treason! Of murder! Absolutely not!" The old senator looked aghast, his face pale. "To assassinate the Augusta? The daughter of your beloved Marcus Aurelius? It would be a crime against the gods and a mortal stain upon the Emperor's honor. It would unravel everything we have built. We would become the very tyrants we are fighting. We cannot stoop to their methods."
"Then what do you suggest, Senator?" Maximus shot back. "We allow the serpent to remain coiled in our house, waiting for another chance to strike?"
"The law must be our guide!" Rufus insisted. "Her person is sacred. There is no legal precedent for trying an Augusta for treason, especially not on the word of a single, executed traitor."
As the two men argued, the rock of honor versus the pillar of law, Alex turned to the third member of his council. Tigidius Perennis had been silent, observing, his face a carefully neutral mask. He had embraced his new role as the Emperor's creature with a chilling efficiency, but he was still a man who understood the mechanics of Roman power better than anyone.
"Perennis," Alex said quietly. "Your thoughts."