I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me - Chapter 615: Nathan’s Last Day at Rome (3)

Chapter 615: Nathan’s Last Day at Rome (3)

The feast continued its steady rhythm around them, the hall filled with the pleasant hum of conversation, the clink of wine glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from various clusters of guests. The atmosphere had settled into something comfortable, almost relaxed—a celebration that no longer felt forced or overly formal, but rather like a genuine gathering of people marking the end of one Chapter and the beginning of another.

After Nathan had finished speaking with Arsinoe and Cleopatra, watching the delegation make their way toward whatever preparations needed handling before their departure, he found himself approached by another familiar figure.

Crassus materialized at his side with the quiet confidence of a man who had spent decades navigating the treacherous waters of Roman politics. His weathered face bore the easy smile of someone genuinely pleased to be in the company he currently kept, though there was something melancholic lurking beneath the surface—a hint of real regret that went beyond mere political courtesy.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to fully admit this,” Crassus began, his voice carrying that particular blend of honesty and self-deprecating humor that Nathan had come to appreciate about the man, “but I think I will be genuinely missing you, Septimius. You’ve kept Rome from boredom for more than a month now. Life is going to feel remarkably dull once you’ve gone.”

Nathan’s smile widened at the admission.

“Caesar had been quite an opponent,” Nathan replied thoughtfully, swirling the wine in his glass as he considered his words. “Easy enough to crush in the end, but his grip on Rome had been remarkably strong for someone I defeated so thoroughly. His influence ran deep through every level of society—the senate, the military, the common people. That kind of power doesn’t appear from nowhere.” He paused, his gaze meeting Crassus’s with pointed significance. “I should properly thank the man who gave him that power and influence in the first place.”

The implication hung in the air between them, unmistakable and deliberate.

Crassus’s expression twitched slightly, a micro-expression of discomfort flickering across his features before he regained his composure. To his credit, he didn’t attempt to deflect or deny. He had never been the type to hide from his own mistakes, however costly they might have proven.

“I won’t deny my responsibility in that matter,” Crassus said evenly, his voice carrying the weight of genuine acknowledgment. “I saw potential in Caesar—ambition, intelligence, charisma. I thought I could control it, channel it, use it to balance against Pompey’s growing influence. I was…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Mistaken. In my assessment and in my confidence that I could manage the consequences.”

“I know,” Nathan replied, and there was no judgment in his tone—only simple acceptance of fact. “That’s precisely why you’re the man most fit to sit on Rome’s throne now. You’ve learned from your errors. You understand the cost of backing the wrong person, of letting ambition grow unchecked. That kind of wisdom—earned through painful experience rather than abstract theory—is exactly what Rome needs in its leadership.”

Crassus looked genuinely surprised, his eyebrows rising slightly as he processed what was clearly a sincere compliment rather than veiled mockery. He had expected many things from this conversation, but Nathan’s straightforward approval wasn’t among them.

Before he could formulate a response, Nathan moved the conversation forward with casual ease.

“Where is Pompey?” he asked, his tone shifting to something more businesslike, though still conversational. “I haven’t seen him since the senate session concluded. I assume he’s already making arrangements to leave?”

“Exiled,” Crassus confirmed, his expression growing more complicated—a mixture of relief, regret, and resigned acceptance. “He must be already outside Rome’s walls by now, heading toward whatever destination he’s chosen for his… indefinite absence. He didn’t contest the decision. Didn’t make speeches or attempt to rally support. Just accepted the verdict and left.”

Something like approval flickered in Crassus’s eyes as he spoke, respect for how Pompey had handled his defeat with at least some measure of dignity.

“It’s good that he accepted it silently,” Nathan said, his tone remaining perfectly casual even as his words carried considerable weight. “I was fully prepared to kill him if he tried anything strange—attempting to stay in Rome, rallying military support, making any move that could be interpreted as refusal to comply with his exile. But since he’s chosen wisdom over pride, he gets to keep his life.”

The matter-of-fact way Nathan delivered this statement—as though discussing the weather or the quality of the wine rather than premeditated assassination—made it all the more striking.

Crassus exhaled slowly, shaking his head with something that might have been amusement or might have been weary resignation. “You really are a ruthless man, aren’t you, Septimius? No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just cold calculation about who lives and who dies based purely on their utility and threat level.”

“You have to be ruthless if you want to reach your goals and protect what matters to you,” Nathan replied with complete honesty, not bothering to soften the truth or pretend to be something he wasn’t. His gaze settled on Crassus with pointed intensity. “And I’m saying the same thing to you, Crassus. You’re still a bit too soft. Too willing to compromise, to give people chances they haven’t earned, to hope that problems will resolve themselves without requiring harsh action.”

Crassus considered this assessment for a long moment, his expression thoughtful rather than offended. Finally, he nodded slowly, accepting the criticism even if he didn’t entirely agree with it.

“I suppose you’re right in your assessment,” he admitted. “But someone has to maintain that balance, especially now. Someone has to temper Fulvius’s remarkably ruthless way of handling things. Left unchecked, he’d turn Rome into a military dictatorship within a year, ruling through fear and force rather than law and consensus. My role—my purpose—is to provide counterweight to that tendency. To remind everyone that there are paths besides the sword.”

Nathan chuckled at that, genuine amusement coloring his expression. “You have a valid point in that. Rome probably does need both of you—the iron fist and the velvet glove working in tandem. Just don’t let that softness get you killed, Crassus. The world we’re entering is going to be more dangerous than anything Rome has faced before.”

“Father.”

The word cut through their conversation, drawing both men’s attention to the figures approaching from across the hall.

Behind Crassus stood Licinia, her posture carrying that particular blend of confidence and awkwardness that suggested she wasn’t entirely comfortable with whatever was about to happen. Beside her walked Julia, newly adopted daughter of Crassus.

Crassus caught Nathan’s eye, something knowing and slightly mischievous dancing in his expression. He gave Nathan a meaningful smile—one that clearly said I’ll leave you to handle this particular situation—before politely excusing himself and disappearing back into the crowd of guests.

Licinia stood there looking awkwardly at Nathan, her earlier confidence seeming to desert her now that she actually had his full attention. Her hands fidgeted slightly with the fabric of her stola, fingers working at the material as though the motion helped steady her nerves.

Thankfully, Julia was there to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Septimius…” Julia began, her voice soft but clear, carrying genuine curiosity rather than accusation. “When will you come back to Rome? Will it be… a long time before we see you again?”

The question was simple enough, but Nathan could hear the layers beneath it—concern, hope, perhaps a touch of fear that this goodbye might be more permanent than anyone was admitting.

“Well, I will definitely be here for the birth of my and Servilia’s child,” Nathan replied calmly, as though the statement was nothing extraordinary. “That’s a fixed point I won’t miss, regardless of what other obligations might arise.”

The effect of his words was immediate and dramatic.

“W…What?!” Licinia’s composure shattered completely, her eyes going wide with shock. Her voice rose several octaves, drawing curious glances from nearby guests who were close enough to overhear. “You mean she’s—”

“S…She is pregnant?” Julia stammered at almost the same moment, her own face flushing pink as the implications sank in. “Servilia is actually… you and she…”

“She is indeed pregnant,” Nathan confirmed with a warm smile, clearly pleased by the news even as he recognized the shock it was causing. “And I will be here for the birth. That’s a promise I intend to keep.” His expression grew more serious then, his gaze moving between both young women. “I’m counting on both of you to help her out if she needs any assistance—support, companionship, whatever she might require during the pregnancy and after. She’s going to need friends around her.”

“W…Why would we do that?” Licinia asked immediately, her arms crossing defensively over her chest even as color continued to flood her cheeks. The question came out more defensive than she probably intended, revealing her discomfort with the entire situation.

Nathan’s smile took on a knowing quality, his eyes glinting with amusement as he raised his wine glass and pointed it directly at her.

“Because…” he said slowly, deliberately, “Servilia will definitely be there to help when it’s your turn, Licinia. And trust me—your turn will definitely come.”

Licinia’s face transformed from pink to absolutely crimson, the blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck in a wave of mortified color. Her mouth opened and closed several times without producing any sound, as though her brain had temporarily short-circuited trying to process what he’d just said and the casual certainty with which he’d said it.

Finally, unable to formulate any coherent response, she simply spun on her heel and walked off with as much dignity as she could muster—which, given her flaming face and rigid posture, wasn’t particularly much.

Nathan laughed openly at her retreat, the sound warm and genuinely amused rather than mocking. He turned his attention to Julia, who remained standing there despite her own considerable blush, her eyes wide but not running away like her friend had.

“I… I will be there to help Servilia,” Julia said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying absolute sincerity. “She’s always been kind to me. I would want to support her during something so important.”

“I know you will be there,” Nathan replied gently, his expression softening with genuine affection for this young woman who seemed perpetually caught between innocence and the adult world she was rapidly being drawn into.

He paused then, considering his next words carefully before speaking them.

“Julia.”

“Yes?” She looked up at him attentively, those large eyes fixed on his face with complete focus.

“There is no hurry,” he said quietly but with unmistakable emphasis, wanting to make absolutely certain she understood what he was saying. “No rush. No pressure to make decisions before you’re ready for them. You’re still young. I don’t want to burden you with responsibilities you’re not prepared to handle yet.”

The implication was clear enough without being explicit: if she happened to be pregnant, if she was considering keeping a child, she should think very carefully about whether she was truly ready for that enormous responsibility.

Julia’s blush deepened slightly, but she nodded with understanding, clearly grasping what he was telling her even if the topic made her uncomfortable to discuss directly.

“I understand,” she murmured.

She stood there a moment longer, as though wanting to say something more but unable to find the words. Finally, she simply gave him a small, genuine smile before turning and hurrying off to join Licinia, who was waiting for her near one of the columns with arms still crossed and face still showing traces of that earlier crimson blush.

Nathan watched them go, his expression thoughtful as he took another sip of his wine.

The remainder of the modest feast passed without incident, unfolding in a calm and almost gentle manner. Laughter softened into quiet conversations, and the tension that had once weighed heavily over the gathering slowly dissipated. By the time it drew to a close, Nathan had ample opportunity to bid his farewells properly, without haste or interruption.

There was no need for excessive dramatics. After all, he was not departing for a decade, nor vanishing beyond the reach of memory. And yet, despite that, each goodbye carried its own subtle weight.

He first exchanged words with Cleopatra, their farewell respectful and composed, marked by mutual understanding more than sentimentality, they loved each other but they knew there were other things that mattered most currently. Then came Servilia, whose gaze lingered a moment longer than the others, followed by Fulvia, Licinia, and Julia—each parting tinged with personal meaning shaped by what they had shared during his time in Rome.

He then turned to Freja and Elin.

Both women were in notably high spirits. Cleopatra’s acceptance of them back into her favor had lifted a burden neither had openly spoken of, and the prospect of finally leaving Rome behind to return to Alexandria clearly filled them with relief. The city, for all its grandeur, had never truly felt like home to them.

Their farewells were warm, almost lighthearted, and for a moment the future seemed uncomplicated.

Lastly, Nathan approached Crassus and Fulvius.

His words to them were polite, measured—but unmistakably firm. Beneath the surface of courtesy lay a carefully veiled warning, one neither man could possibly misunderstand.

Rome had been freed from Julius Caesar’s grip. Power had been returned to the Senate and the people, not so that it could be seized again by ambition and bloodshed, but so that peace might finally take root.

That, Nathan made clear, was what they were to pursue.

Especially when it came to Amun Ra.

Any attempt at deception, provocation, or manipulation would not go unnoticed. And should he ever learn that Servilia—or Julia—had been treated unjustly, he promised he would return without hesitation.

And next time, he would not show the patience he had once afforded Julius Caesar.

Neither Crassus nor Fulvius took offense. On the contrary, they received his words with solemn understanding. They knew better than to antagonize Nathan, and they knew just as well that his warning was not an empty one. Besides they also wanted peace and prosperity for Rome, none of them had Caesar’s stupid ambition.

With that, Nathan departed.

Now he stood beyond Rome’s towering walls, the city sprawling behind him in a maze of stone and torchlight. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the dense, restless atmosphere within the capital. He drew in a slow breath, savoring the freedom of open space.

At last, his time in Rome had truly come to an end.

So too had the long journey that began with the mission to save Ameriah and Auria.

It had taken longer than expected—far longer—but he felt no regret. Along the way, he had encountered powerful figures, forged meaningful connections, and most importantly, secured an alliance between the Amun Ra Empire and the Roman Empire and both were also his allies.

That alone made everything worthwhile.

Still, it was not yet time to return to Tenebria.

Nathan raised his hand, and with a quiet shimmer of light, the key Demeter had given him materialized in his grasp. Its presence was familiar, heavy with purpose.

There was one more thing he needed to do.

He could not leave without checking on Pandora.