"This is exactly what is troubling, Consul. No one with such power goes into exile of their own free will unless he is preparing something that cannot be carried out in Rome."
Pompey frowned, not immediately finding a response. Cicero's words were completely candid and irritatingly blunt, yet far too logical to be dismissed.
'Come on, Pompey. We have already done too much for the Roman Empire to stop now. You must sever ties with these tyrant-allies and return the Senate its voice.
Your damned triumvirate does whatever it pleases in the Senate. It strangles all democracy, turning it into a mockery. Even in the time of Sulla, when he became sole dictator, we had more freedom. This cannot go on.
Crassus is the first stone that must fall from the alliance. His fall will create a crack that Caesar will not be able to mend.
The weaker he becomes, the stronger you will be. The Senate already follows you, give them a reason to follow further.
Only one move remains, Pompey. One precise step…' Cicero prayed to himself, keeping a gentle, benevolent mask on his face. Not a tremor, not a hint of his true thoughts, only perfectly honed politeness.
Everyone knew Cicero was a great orator and a fanatical republican. He was a striking figure of the old school of senators, a man whose word could steer the opinion of the masses. But behind that brilliant exterior hid a mind many compared to a blade, and some to a snake in the grass.
But the times dictated their own terms.
When the triumvirate came to power, everyone had to choose a side.
No one was surprised that Cicero supported Pompey, the most traditional of the three.
By securing him advantages in the highest circles, Cicero made Pompey the most influential man in Rome. And that was no lie. They seemed like the perfect duo, compensating for each other's weaknesses.
However, no one could have imagined what goals Cicero truly pursued.
He cared neither for personal power, nor for wealth, nor for honors. He cared only for the empire and the preservation of its age-old traditions, namely DEMOCRACY.
Lacking sufficient strength and influence, Cicero could do nothing against the triumvirate. But he did not give up. If you cannot take a fortress by force, destroy it from within.
Thus, Cicero chose to join Pompey's faction, slowly and imperceptibly pulling him away from the others.
Now his plans, shaped over the years, were finally nearing completion. The opportunity had presented itself. How could Cicero possibly let it slip?
Pompey had been silent for a quarter of an hour. The letter lay on his knees, and for the hundredth time his eyes ran over the same lines, finding no new meaning in them, only new shadows of doubt.
"You are right in some ways," he finally said, slowly, as if weighing each word. "If Crassus turns neither to me nor to Caesar… then he is plotting something that runs counter to our interests."
He fell silent again, staring at the letter so intently it seemed his gaze might burn holes through the paper.
"Your words are not without reason."
"Your conclusions could not be more precise, Consul," Adam Starlight interjected without pause. "It is better to be overly cautious than inattentive."
He was closely tied to Cicero's faction, for it was they who had insisted on eliminating the "child of prophecy." By speaking now, he could not only demonstrate his loyalty to them, but also secure the support of the most influential man in the Empire.
Personal feelings meant little within the framework of politics. He had made his choice, and the path of retreat was closed.
"Adam, gather our best forces! I will meet Crassus on his own territory and hear his explanations personally. As Adam said, though he is my friend, caution will not hurt," Pompey ordered decisively.
Hearing in reality the words he had dreamed of for the past several centuries, Cicero had to exert considerable effort to keep from smiling.
Realizing he would not hold out for long, he hurried to take his leave and carry out the Consul's orders.
After seeing the noble patricians off, Pompey remained alone in the atrium.
It seemed as though the silence of the cold columns and smooth marble walls pressed down on his mind. His magnificent villa on one of the floating hills, the dream of every Roman citizen, now felt like a solid cage.
Crassus was his friend, and the thought of betrayal poisoned his heart, yet the duty of a ruler stood above all. Only those who had truly known power could understand this тяжелое чувство.
However, his peace did not last long: a servant knocked at the door and respectfully announced that Mark, the right hand and representative of Caesar, had arrived.
"Let him in," Pompey replied with a sigh, feeling the approach of another headache.
Mark did not keep him waiting long. His posture and bearing sharply differed from the senators who had just left the hall. He stood straight as a spear, looking Pompey directly in the eyes. Not a hint of the usual submission before Caesar.
"My respects, Consul," he said in a restrained, slightly distant tone.
"Why have you come?" Pompey asked bluntly.
"I want to know the reason for today's spectacle. What was that? Do you realize that with such actions you are risking the fragile alliance with my master?" His tone was direct, almost challenging, as if he were still standing at the doors of the Senate, cast out like a stray dog.
"Watch your tongue!" Pompey barked, not hiding his outrage. "Who do you think you are? You are nothing but Caesar's servant, and you have neither the status nor the authority to speak to me in such a tone. My relationship with Caesar is none of your concern. We will resolve this misunderstanding ourselves."
Though he did not care for sycophancy, he did not forgive familiarity either. A commander to the marrow, Pompey considered any breach of hierarchy unacceptable. Had Mark not been Caesar's trusted aide, he would have already been taught a harsh lesson.
Realizing he had gone too far, Mark adjusted his posture slightly, but did not retreat from the matter at hand. "Forgive my presumption, Consul. But the issue is serious. I need to know what to report to my master, and what compensation you are prepared to offer. Preserving the alliance benefits both sides, and we expect reciprocity."
"I will decide what to offer later," Pompey replied wearily, rubbing his temples.
Too much had fallen upon him today: a critical Senate session, news of Crassus, political maneuvering with Cicero, and now this confrontation with Caesar's messenger. Even with his formidable mind, the need to weigh so many factors at once caused no small strain.
"When should I expect your answer, Consul?" Mark asked politely but insistently, relaxing slightly upon realizing that Pompey did not wish to break the alliance.
"Three years. Urgent matters have arisen that force me to leave the capital. In three years, I will provide Caesar with достойную компенсацию," Pompey promised.
"With all due respect, the situation on Pratos does not tolerate delays. I must return. Do you have anything for me to relay to him?"
"Tell him what I said. Wait three years," Pompey ordered sharply, cutting the envoy off, his persistence beginning to irritate him.
Mark clenched his fists. A surge of anger flashed in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.
He was Caesar's subordinate, that was true, but only because he considered him his personal mentor. No one else would dare treat him with such disregard. However, Pompey was a consul and an important ally.
Mark gritted his teeth, restraining the hostility rising within him, and silently left the atrium before his emotions slipped out of control.
The moment he was gone, Pompey collapsed onto a soft couch, hoping at last to find the rest he so desperately needed.
But his rest did not last long: soon another guest appeared in the doorway, this time a woman.
She was enchanting in her simplicity. A white tunic softly clung to her slender figure, emphasizing her natural grace and elegance. A thin belt neatly traced her waist, accentuating the alluring curves of an hourglass form.
Pompey noticed her presence and closed his eyes with relief, allowing himself to forget the weight of the day.
The woman deftly filled a cup with wine, then stepped closer and began to gently knead his shoulders. Her skilled touch was both soft and assured, easing his stiff muscles and gradually melting away the tension that had built up throughout the day.
Noticing that the man's mood had improved slightly, she addressed him:
"How was your day, my consul?" Her whisper was as gentle as her movements.
"Terrible," Pompey muttered without opening his eyes. "Problems keep coming one after another. As if trouble with Caesar weren't enough, the senators grow more and more bothersome. And now some messenger tried to interrogate me. Me! The Consul of Rome!"
Even in such a state, Pompey did not reveal the situation with Crassus. He knew the value of such information, as well as its danger.
"My dear, sometimes you are too lenient with those beneath you. Discipline is the foundation of our empire's power," she advised softly.
"Hmmm, if only it were that simple…" Pompey sighed. "He is Caesar's servant, and I still owe him for today's incident. Other senators may concern me little, but one cannot be careless with members of the triumvirate. I will have to find a way to smooth things over… I do not want to break our alliance."
She smiled, her fingers lightly playing across his muscular chest.
"He-he-he, my esteemed consul, sometimes you are so immersed in politics that you forget about simple pleasures," she whispered, leaning closer and letting her hand drift lower, slow and gentle. "You do know which alliance is the strongest…"
The woman did not wait for an answer. She demonstrated it, dropping to her knees and undoing his toga at the waist.
Her влажный язык immediately began to explore his manhood. With gentle, slender fingers she played with his treasures, while her warm mouth took in the shaft of his "spear."
Soft, wet sounds filled the quiet atrium.
Her toga slipped to the floor, revealing a tempting sight before him. Her full breasts were freed, and her soft white skin pressed against his legs.
The contrast between her saintly appearance and the lustful actions she performed ignited desire in Pompey's weary mind. The forbidden nature of their relationship only intensified the passion. And the power she represented made the experience dangerously intoxicating.
A servant of God, an attendant of the temple, whose life and status demanded purity and virtue, was now serving him like a whore in a brothel.
He grabbed her by the head and began thrusting into her tight throat.
"Yes, Eva!.. Take it deeper… Show me your point of view!.." he growled, quickening his pace.
"Slk, slk, slk"
Hearing his command, she worked even harder. His thick length stretched her throat as she took him completely.
She did not think to complain. Her eyes never left Pompey's, completely submitting to him.
Finished with the prelude, she remained fully exposed. Then she climbed on top of him, taking a rider's position and displaying her full curves.
"What do you think of my proposal, Consul?" she asked in a seductive tone, her chest now level with his face.
"It is a good idea, but I cannot give him my daughter. She is too young and innocent to be involved in the politics of Rome. I will not allow her to become a tool," Pompey replied, moving against her soft hips.
"Mm…" the girl gasped as his "spear" entered her sacred cave, "Don't you have a niece?"
Her movements did not slow in the slightest. She began to move her hips, matching his rhythm as she awaited his decision.
"Sulla? But… she is married," Pompey replied as her tight warmth welcomed him.
"Ahh, yes, my dear! More… more… Y-you can be rough… Fill me completely…" Eva whispered breathlessly as he drove into her. "Divorce is not uncommon in the modern world. It would be an honor for her to become the foundation of your alliance with Caesar."
Pompey did not answer at once.
Even in the midst of pleasure, he weighed every advantage and consequence of important decisions. It was a habit that could not be erased by something so simple.
"Come to think of it, the idea is quite good," he said after a minute. His breathing had grown uneven as he murmured words of approval to her. "What do you want as a reward, my loyal advisor?"
"Ahh, yesss, fill me… fill me completely… I… I need nothing, my consul. It is enough to feel you inside me," the girl replied unsteadily, continuing to ride him.
The higher their level of development, the more intensely they felt emotions. Their minds were clouded with lust, and primal instinct demanded the fulfillment of primal desires.
Pompey slapped her bouncing rear, as if dissatisfied.
"That will not do! I have heard your son, Light Starlight, will soon come of age. If you take every drop, I will ensure his election as a tribune of the people," he growled with authority, capturing her lips in a wet kiss.
"Thank you for your care, my consul," Eva whispered, her movements growing even more intense after his promise.
==============
Dear readers, I have to inform you that this work was rejected when applying for a contract without the possibility of revision. Therefore, I was forced to create a second version of the book, where I will publish the latest updates.
I will not give up on this version, but some chapters will be posted a little later than in the main one.
The book is called "The Mad Immortal"
https://www.webnovel.com/book/the-mad-immortal_34969618200258905###
Many thanks for your support, active comments and reviews.
This will help more readers to get acquainted with my book, which means my chances of getting a contract will increase and you will receive content more often. (The author also needs to eat and provide for his family)