I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 590: Discussion with the new Rulers of Rome (2)

Nathan settled into the chair with an unhurried grace, his movements controlled, almost ceremonial. The room was dim but dignified, lit by tall oil lamps whose flames flickered against marble walls. His posture remained straight, his expression unreadable.

”Then,” he said quietly, ”let’s begin.”

”Good, then are you willing to tell us what you want now, that Servilia is also present here, as you have wished?” Fulvius asked, his tone carefully neutral, though there was an undercurrent of impatience threading through his words. His gaze flickered briefly toward the elegant woman seated to his right, whose presence had been one of Nathan’s explicit conditions for this meeting.

Nathan allowed himself a moment of silence.

”I will start with the simple one,” he said. ”Release Arsinoe.”

The effect was rapid as the four of them widened their eyes in surprise hearing that.

It was Crassus who finally broke the stunned quiet, his weathered face creasing with lines of careful consideration.

”Arsinoe,” he said slowly, as if tasting each syllable for hidden meaning. ”You must mean the younger sister of Queen Cleopatra?” He paused, his eyes fixed on Nathan’s face, searching for any hint of deception or madness. ”Are we speaking of the same person?”

”Exactly her,” Nathan confirmed without hesitation. ”Release her from whatever cell or gilded cage you’re keeping her in.”

Fulvius’s face darkened like a thundercloud gathering on the horizon. His carefully maintained composure cracked slightly, revealing the indignation beneath.

”That’s impossible,” he said, shaking his head with emphatic conviction. ”She had been captured during Caesar’s conquest of Alexandria. She is a prisoner of Rome, a spoil of war, and more importantly, she is a traitor to the Amun Empire itself.” He paused, his brow furrowing deeply as genuine confusion crossed his features. ”I don’t understand why you, of all people, would want her released. What possible interest could you have in this girl?”

Nathan’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, He shifted slightly in his seat, adopting a more relaxed posture that somehow made him seem even more formidable.

”She is not a traitor,” Nathan countered, his voice taking on an edge of cold logic. ”She simply chose to remain within her Empire, to stand with her people and her homeland. Why would she stupidly follow Cleopatra, who was the one being actively hunted down by her own brother’s forces? That would have been the true betrayal, would it not?” He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, his tone growing harder. ”She tried everything within her power to make her stupid, manipulated brother see things more clearly, to open his eyes to reality. But that fat and bald advisor Pothinus had already burrowed too deeply into his mind, poisoning every thought and decision.” A grim smile touched Nathan’s lips. ”Thankfully, now his body must be rotting right now.”

Another heavy silence fell across the chamber.

It was the Pope who finally spoke, his voice carrying a note of measured respect that had been absent from the earlier exchanges. His aged hands, decorated with rings of office, rested flat upon the table before him as he regarded Nathan with new interest.

”Why do you wish to release her, Lord Septimius?” he asked, and there was genuine curiosity in his tone now, along with that distinct tinge of respect that suggested he had heard things about this man, perhaps from sources within his own circles. ”What purpose does her freedom serve?”

Nathan wondered briefly, a fleeting thought crossing his mind, whether Athena had spoken to the holy man about him, whether words had been whispered in sacred corridors about his deeds and nature. But he pushed the speculation aside and focused on the question at hand, his answer coming sharp and clear.

”Cleopatra cares deeply for her sister,” Nathan said, and his voice carried the weight of simple, undeniable truth. ”That alone should be sufficient reason for any who wish to be counted as friends of Amun Ra.” He paused, his gaze sweeping across each face in turn. ”But if sentiment is not enough for Roman pragmatism, then consider this: if you wish to maintain good relations with the Amun Ra Empire and with Alexandria, which, culturally speaking, stands far ahead of Rome in many respects—”

Fulvius’s face reddened at those words, his jaw clenching visibly. His hands gripped the edge of the table with enough force that his knuckles whitened. It was always painfully difficult for the proud Roman senator to hear anyone belittle Rome, to hear the eternal city compared unfavorably to anywhere else in the known world. His entire being rebelled against such statements.

And yet, even as anger flared in his chest, he could not deny the truth that Nathan spoke.

The city founded by the legendary Alexander the Great was indeed extraordinarily rich, its wealth legendary throughout the world. The famous Library of Alexandria, that towering monument to human knowledge and learning, housed wisdom and texts that existed nowhere else on earth. Even now, at this very moment, thousands upon thousands of Romans were visiting that distant city, traveling across the sea for the sole purpose of reading in those hallowed halls, of touching those precious scrolls, of breathing the same air as the scholars and philosophers who gathered there.

If Cleopatra decided it, if she chose to close those doors, she could prevent all Romans from stepping foot within Alexandria’s walls. And there was also the matter of wealth and commerce, the endless caravans of goods that flowed along the Nile River, the grain that fed Rome’s millions, the luxuries that filled patrician homes. So much could be lost with a single royal decree.

”There are indeed much to lose by antagonizing Cleopatra,” Fulvius finally admitted, though the words seemed to pain him as they left his mouth. ”But the latter has no legitimate reason to antagonize Rome, because despite everything, Rome shed blood for her to recover her throne. Our legions fought and died in the streets of Alexandria. She is indebted to us, bound by that debt of blood and iron.”

Nathan’s expression shifted, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, resting his fist against his cheek in a gesture that somehow managed to be both casual and deeply contemptuous.

”Indebted, you say?” Nathan’s voice dripped with barely concealed mockery. His eyes glittered with dangerous amusement as he regarded the assembled Romans. ”Let me enlighten you about this supposed debt. Caesar and his vaunted army performed the easiest and most cowardly job during the siege of Alexandria.”

He paused, letting that accusation hang in the air like an executioner’s blade.

”I am the main reason why Alexandria fell, why its walls were breached, why its defenders broke,” Nathan continued, his voice growing harder, more intense. ”I am the one who ensured that the boy-Pharaoh met his end, the one who personally sent him to feed the crocodiles in the Nile, to become nothing more than meat for scavengers.” His gaze swept across the room, challenging anyone to contradict him. ”You can ask anyone who was present that day, anyone who stood on those blood-soaked streets and fought in those burning alleys. They will tell you the truth of what happened, of who truly won that battle.”

Fulvius’s lips compressed into a thin, bloodless line as he absorbed Nathan’s words, his jaw working silently as though chewing on something bitter and unpalatable. The rigid set of his shoulders and the tightness around his eyes betrayed the turmoil beneath his carefully maintained facade. He seemed to be painfully aware, perhaps had been aware all along, of precisely how much Nathan had accomplished during the siege of Alexandria, how instrumental his actions had been in securing victory. His earlier words had been merely a strategic attempt, a political gambit designed to force Nathan to reconsider his demands, to make him back down from his audacious position. But the ploy had failed spectacularly, crumbling like sun-dried clay against the unyielding rock of Nathan’s resolve.

Nathan was clearly not a man burdened by false humility or self-deprecation. Instead, he was shamelessly, almost brazenly flaunting his achievements like a conquering general displaying his spoils of war. More than that, he was weaponizing them, wielding his accomplishments as tools of negotiation and leverage with the practiced ease of a master strategist.

Crassus took voice next.

”Arsinoe had been paraded throughout Rome as a prisoner of war when Caesar returned triumphant from Alexandria,” Crassus explained, his tone measured. ”She was displayed in chains before the cheering crowds, exhibited as proof of Rome’s victory and Caesar’s glory. Things aren’t simple when it comes to releasing her now, you must understand this. Everyone—from the lowest plebeian in the streets to the highest senator in the Forum—saw her as a traitor to her own nation, an enemy of Rome’s ally Cleopatra. The public memory is not easily erased or rewritten.”

Nathan’s expression remained utterly unmoved.

”They can think whatever they want,” Nathan replied with an dismissive wave of his hand. ”Their opinions are irrelevant to the reality of the situation. Arsinoe isn’t going to remain here, rotting in some Roman cell or being gawked at like some exotic animal. Cleopatra will be taking her back to Alexandria, where she belongs.” He paused, his sharp eyes fixing on Fulvius with an intensity that seemed to pin the senator to his seat. ”Simply announce that you are leaving her punishment to Cleopatra’s care and judgment. Let the Queen and Pharaoh of Amun Ra decide the fate of her own sister. It maintains Rome’s dignity while serving your strategic interests.”

”Cleopatra will be taking her back?” Fulvius repeated slowly, his heavy brows drawing together in a deep frown of confusion. ”What exactly do you mean by that? Are you suggesting—”

”I called for Cleopatra,” Nathan interrupted smoothly, dropping his next revelation like a stone into still water, watching the ripples spread. ”She will arrive in Rome within three days.”

The reaction was quite strong.

All of them—Crassus, Fulvius, and even the Pope—widened their eyes in shock, their carefully maintained composure shattering like glass struck by a hammer. Mouths fell open, breaths caught in throats, and for a moment, the chamber was filled with nothing but stunned, disbelieving silence. Only Servilia remained composed, her elegant features unmarred by surprise, since she had already been privy to this particular piece of information.

”H...How could you!” Fulvius erupted from his seat with such force that his chair scraped loudly against the marble floor, the harsh sound echoing through the chamber like a sword being drawn. His face flushed crimson with a potent mixture of anger, indignation, and something that looked remarkably like panic. His hands slammed down on the table, making the goblets and documents jump. ”How dare you summon the Queen of a foreign empire to Rome without consulting us, without any authorization, without so much as a—”

”Calm down,” Nathan interrupted, his voice cutting through Fulvius’s rising tirade. ”There is no better time to welcome the Queen of Amun Ra than right now, at this precise moment in Rome’s history. Don’t you think so? Surely you can see the strategic advantage?”

Fulvius remained standing, his chest heaving with barely controlled fury, but Nathan’s words had given him pause. His keen political mind, despite being clouded by anger, began to work through the implications, processing the possibilities and opportunities. His frown deepened as he considered the angles, the potential benefits and pitfalls.

Caesar had fallen, brought low by his own ambition and the machinations of those who opposed him. The city was in a state of uncertainty, its people anxious and fearful about what would come next, about who would fill the power vacuum left by the dictator’s dramatic downfall. In such turbulent times, the populace needed reassurance, needed stability, needed something to believe in and rally around.

What better way to provide that reassurance than to welcome Cleopatra herself, to showcase the strong alliance between the Roman Empire and the Amun Ra Empire? It would be a powerful statement, a demonstration of Rome’s continued importance and influence on the world stage, proof that they remained a force to be reckoned with even in Caesar’s absence.

Despite his anger, Fulvius had to admit, with great reluctance, that the timing was not entirely wrong. In fact, it might even be politically advantageous.

”You could have at least informed us beforehand,” Crassus said exasperated. ”Given us time to prepare properly, to make the necessary arrangements, to—”

”That’s precisely what I am doing right now,” Nathan cut in. ”I’m informing you, and you have three full days to prepare a proper welcome befitting her station and importance. It’s not as if I’m bringing some kind of monster or barbarian warlord to your gates. This is Cleopatra, Queen of Amun Ra, ruler of one of the richest and most powerful nations in the world. Surely Rome can manage an appropriate reception in three days?”

”Wait,” Fulvius said suddenly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as a new thought struck him. He lowered himself slowly back into his chair. ”When exactly did you send word to Cleopatra to come? When did you extend this invitation?”

”Two days ago,” Nathan replied without hesitation. ”I informed her of the situation and asked her presence two days past.”

”Two days ago?” Fulvius repeated, his voice rising in pitch, disbelief written across every line of his face. ”Before the attack on Rome by Caesar’s forces? Before we even knew whether we would succeed in stopping him? You summoned her before ensuring that Caesar was successfully taken down?”

The sheer audacity, the breathtaking arrogance of such a move. What kind of supreme confidence, what kind of unshakeable certainty in his own abilities would drive a man to make such a call? To invite a foreign queen to witness what could have been his own catastrophic defeat?

Then again, Fulvius thought, perhaps it wasn’t arrogance at all. Perhaps, instead of blind overconfidence, it was simply iron-clad assurance, the absolute conviction that he would definitely, inevitably win against Caesar. That failure was not merely unlikely, but literally impossible in his calculations.

”Don’t look at me like that, old man,” Nathan said with a slight smile, catching the complex mixture of emotions playing across Fulvius’s weathered features. ”I told Cleopatra that you are good, honorable people, worthy allies and friends. I sincerely hope you won’t give her any reason to distrust my words or question my judgment. That would be... unfortunate for everyone involved.”

”You...” Crassus began, then paused, choosing his next words carefully. ”How close are you to the Queen of Amun Ra? What is the nature of your relationship with her?”

It was a question that had been hovering unspoken in the room since Nathan first mentioned Cleopatra’s name. He spoke of sending messages directly to the Queen of Egypt as casually as one might mention writing to a close friend or trusted confidant. He made demands on her behalf, claimed to speak for her interests, and now had summoned her to Rome as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The level of familiarity implied by such actions was extraordinary, unprecedented even.

”Cleopatra is my woman,” Nathan replied simply.

The effect of those four words was seismic. Crassus’s jaw went slack, his usual composure completely abandoned. Fulvius’s eyes widened so far they seemed in danger of leaving his skull entirely, his face cycling rapidly through several shades of red and white. Even the Pope, that dignified holy man who had maintained his calm throughout most of the proceedings, visibly recoiled in his seat, his mouth falling open in undisguised shock.

”Is that enough to make you trust my words?” Nathan asked into the stunned quiet.