The Codex Vitae et Veritas pulsed with a low, living hum, faint runes shimmering as Julius confirmed his selections.

Each edict now embedded in the civic bloodstream of the empire like iron in bone.

Their effects would begin to ripple outward by morning—some subtle, others transformative.

With the Codex properly socketed, Julius exhaled.

The monumental had been made manifest.

He turned, exiting the sanctum beneath the Basilica, boots echoing along the polished blackstone tiles as he passed beneath the arches of deified gods and symbols of old.

By now, the city itself breathed with a strange calm, like a body that had finally stabilized after days of fever, Romanus's constant growth was in itself a problem as they constantly had to deal with an influx of war slaves, and newly joining citizens all who knew nothing of the newly developed Romanus culture, and as such many cultural clashes had been popping up, but no longer.

He exited into the main transept where two guards awaited him.

One bowed, opening the brass-and-cypress doors to the Basilica's outer grounds.

And there, beneath the rising moonlight, stood Serena.

She wore her formal regalia—deep blue trimmed with silver thread—and her expression bore the restrained tightness of someone who had waited longer than she liked.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me something's burning."

She stepped forward, voice clipped.

"Only your bed, sire."

"Pity,"

he muttered.

"I was rather looking forward to it."

"You'll have to delay. A visitor waits in the throne room."

His eyes narrowed.

"At this hour?"

"It couldn't wait. The guards brought the message directly to the praetorium."

"And you let them?"

Serena tilted her head.

"I think you can handle a conversation... or two before bedtime."

He grunted rolling his eyes at her provocative answer, following her as the guards closed ranks behind.

They passed through the basilica gates, crossed the moonlit avenues of the Forum Aurelius, and ascended the long marble steps into the Imperial Palace.

No trumpets sounded.

No banners stirred.

But even in the dead of night, the palace pulsed with life.

Flames flickered behind latticed windows.

Scrolls rustled in the record halls.

Somewhere deeper in the building, the garrison quartermasters continued their endless inventory as hundreds of weapons were produced daily by the forges to fund Romanus's expansion and war efforts.

When Julius entered the throne room, he did not stride in.

He slowed.

He had expected a delegation.

A diplomat, perhaps.

Maybe one of his own vassals.

But what stood beneath the twin columns of the imperial dais was no mere envoy.

It was him.

Jesus III.

The spitting image of the first, the founder of the principality, a face etched into the eyes of Earth christians for thousands of years and one that was known to Julius as well, being the face of the Christendom avatar for most of the campaigns he'd played.

The Pontiff of the Principality of Christendom.

The man hailed by Tens of thousands across the southern provinces as the Shepherd of Peace, the Flame of the Nazarene.

He stood robed in alabaster silk, simple in cut but divine in presence.

His silver hair was bound in a golden circlet, and the staff in his hand bore the broken-iron cross of his faith—symbolizing not divine wrath, but trial through suffering.

Julius stepped forward slowly, cloak dragging like a tide behind him.

"Your Holiness,"

he said, voice steady.

The Pontiff bowed.

Not deeply—but first.

"Imperator."

They studied one another across the silence.

Julius was stunted in conversation, the last interaction Romanus had with the Principality was the excommunication of the emperor, and all those who live in his lands, which prompted Julius to seal off the principality behind a second great wall, while his navy embargoed all trade into or out of their lands.

Effectively they were in a state of cold war.

But now without warning or advanced notice came.

Someone who appeared because of the history that Julius had altered.

However what had changed he did not know so first he needed to get a lay of the land so to speak and figure out the changes so that he could remain in an advantageous position during negotiations.

He gestured for the guards to stand down, and with a flick of the fingers, Serena dismissed even the court scribes and chamberlains.

Only she remained, standing just off Julius's shoulder, as was her right as Grand Vizier, and future empress.

Julius stepped down from the throne.

"You walk freely, Pontiff. What brings you across the borders? Our peace with your people is young, and some would call it fragile."

Julius's words were friendly if biting with sarcasm.

Jesus III smiled faintly.

But still no words fell from his mouth, as his eyes scanned the room almost seeking divine guidance on how to proceed.

Julius folded his arms.

"Say what you came to say, it is late and i have ridden many days from battle only to arrive just now."

Jesus III nodded once.

"The Principality is prepared to submit itself to your Empire."

Silence fell like a hammer against glass.

Even Serena blinked.

"You… wish to be annexed?"

Julius asked.

"In a manner of speaking,"

the Pontiff corrected.

"The recent actions of the Archdiocese were not sanctioned, Peter III acted rather uncouthly in pursuit of vain glory and riches while i was away on a leave of my station due to a... well a personal matter."

He had rewritten history with that vision of Nero—had offered a homeland of peace and tolerance rather than fire and crucifixion.

It had changed everything.

Where Peter reigned as sole pope now he was just an interim pope covering while the true pontiff was indisposed.

"What terms do you seek to have us accept this,"

he muttered, almost to himself,

"Thousands died in the crusade wage by your militant orders, many more suffered and were displaced during the months of occupation until they were finally liberated, if we merely accept your pledge there will be riots across Carthaginia."

Jesus III's eyes glittered.

"We will fully submit you to, with the only condition being that we retain out religious autonomy, you are free to disband the knight orders or incorporate them into your own military if needed."

Julius looked to Serena, who stared back with her hawk-like precision.

"He's not lying,"

she murmured.

"Their envoys have been speaking with our governors in Provincia Carthago for weeks while you've been away. There's momentum. Churches calling for unity. Towns flying both banners."

Julius's mind whirred.

The Codex.

Its subconscious edicts were already bearing fruit.

Pax Imperatoria.

Imperium Aeternum.

Hospitium Populi.

And now the holy man stood before him, asking not for battle—but for bonds.

"What of your fanatics?"

Julius asked.

Jesus III lowered his gaze.

"Recalled. Most have laid down arms and accepted reptentance. Others…"

he hesitated,

"will not be part of what comes next."

Julius studied him.

The guilt upon his face revealed that the key driving force behind the war had already been dealt with, likely in a bloody way.

This man had the serenity of someone who had waited a long time to speak these words, laying the guilt he felt upon the feet of another.

And who knew the weight of saying them.

Jesus III said plainly.

"To keep our shrines intact, our customs respected. To help bridge the chasm between the faithful and the Empire—not through blood, but through shared purpose."

Julius didn't answer right away.

The Empire had no shortage of allies, but all those allies were also prospective enemies, mainly greecia, and germania.

But this was more than that.

This was absorption.

Not through conquest—but concord, a feat only achieved against Parthia after Romanus completed its economic downfall.

He turned toward the throne, then back to the Pontiff.

"If the terms are as you say, we can come to agreement, though formal drafts will need to be done, but i can guarentee that your religion will continue but in doing so i would ask that any conversions on either side are done strictly voluntarily."

He let the sentence drift.

Jesus III inclined his head.

"All parishes have already been given this order."

And then, for the first time since entering the hall, Julius allowed himself to exhale.

Serena gave a nod.

"I'll begin preparations. This will mean a new path for the southern border. Integration procedures. Rewrites of the faith codes of law."

"And for the first time in centuries,"

Jesus III said,

"Christendom will not stand apart from the rest of the world, but united with it."

He stepped forward, and slowly, lowered his staff.

Not to the floor.

But into Julius's waiting hand.

A symbolic gesture.

The transfer of spiritual authority.

And a new dawn for the empire.