I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 578: Nathan’s Talk with Crassus and Fulvius

“Caesar, huh?” he said in a tone so casual it bordered on dismissive. “I have him.”

Silence dropped into the chamber like a stone.

Fulvius and Crassus both jerked upright, eyes widening in disbelief—shock painting their faces as their minds struggled to process what they had just heard.

For several long seconds, the chamber fell into stunned silence.

Crassus was the first to react. His face drained of color, and he pushed himself abruptly to his feet, nearly knocking over the small bronze table beside him.

“Y…You just said…” His voice cracked slightly, disbelief tightening around every word.

Fulvius, though visibly shaken, maintained a shred more composure. Yet even he couldn’t hide the shock widening his eyes.

“You have Caesar?” he asked, his tone low and incredulous. “You mean to say… he’s in your possession?”

It was an almost unthinkable revelation. Until this moment, both men had assumed Julius Caesar had escaped Rome amidst the chaos. It would have been expected of him—he was a slippery, cunning man, a survivor in the worst sense. They had anticipated he might flee beyond the Empire’s borders, seek refuge with foreign kings, or even rally deserters to plot a return.

And that was precisely what terrified them.

Because Caesar, regardless of his crimes, was still Caesar. A man of monstrous influence. Skilled in politics, revered by many, feared by more. If he remained alive and free, the entire Republic would be in danger. A single whisper from him could ignite revolt. With enough allies, he could stage a coup, destabilize Rome, or plunge the Senate into chaos once again.

Thus the frantic search. Thousands of soldiers dispatched across the Empire. Resources spent. Sleepless nights endured.

Only for Nathan to drop the truth as casually as if commenting on the weather.

“That’s what I said,” Nathan replied, leaning back deeper into the sofa as he crossed one leg over the other. A faint groan escaped him—his joints still stiff, his body still adjusting as if resurrected from an unnatural stillness. There was no point mourning the discomfort. He simply endured it.

Fulvius’s expression darkened into a blend of frustration and exasperation.

“Boy… you’re telling us now?” he snapped. “We have scoured the Empire, moved legions, interrogated prisoners—gods, we’ve spent days chasing shadows!”

Nathan lifted his gaze, his crimson eyes sharp.

“You truly believed I would let Caesar run away so easily?”

The rebuke cut cleanly through the air.

Crassus and Fulvius fell silent.

Now that they considered it—truly considered it—their earlier assumptions seemed foolish. Nathan was many things, but careless was not one of them. He schemed, prepared, anticipated long before anyone else had even noticed a threat.

And of course, he was not mistaken now.

Nathan’s priorities had been clear for days. Pandora—her actions, her threat, her unfathomable power—occupied the front of his mind. The question of whether he could handle her successfully without dying was his main problem. That was the adversary he feared.

Caesar, in comparison, was nothing more than a minor nuisance. A loose end.

Yet one that needed tying up.

Nathan never intended to let Caesar escape. Not only because of the danger he posed, but because he needed Caesar to take the blame for everything—to be the final symbol of corruption, the sacrificial figure offered to the Republic.

A lesson. A warning. An example.

Even if Caesar had fled, Nathan wouldn’t have been worried. He would’ve hunted him relentlessly, tracked him down like prey. But Nathan preferred to eliminate uncertainty altogether. So he took precautions. Perhaps extreme ones.

Just in case Caesar possessed some hidden artifact, some last-resort tool that could let him vanish… Nathan had given Medea the task of keeping an eye on him.

Entrusting that mission to someone like her was overkill—borderline excessive. But Nathan didn’t care. Rome couldn’t afford loose ends. And neither could he.

Fulvius exhaled slowly, a long breath of relief leaving his chest as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted.

“I see,” he murmured, shoulders relaxing. “Then you should hand him over to us.”

“I will,” Nathan replied.

But then his posture shifted—barely, subtly—and yet the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His golden eyes hardened, sharpening like blades as he fixed both men with a cold, unreadable stare.

“But not until I receive what I want,” he continued. “I trust neither of you have forgotten what I’ve done for Rome… nor do I expect you to forget anytime soon.”

Crassus let out a weary sigh.

“How wary can one man be…”

“That is what I am,” Nathan answered without hesitation. “I have several conditions. And I will not hand Caesar over until you swear to uphold them—swear in the name of Athena herself.”

The reaction was immediate.

Both men stiffened. Their eyes widened. Even the air felt charged, as if the mere invocation of the goddess had stirred something invisible.

Nathan knew exactly what he was doing.

Once, an oath in Athena’s name would have been symbolic—honored culturally, yes, but hardly feared. But now? After everything that had happened in Rome? After the goddess’s very real involvement and the divine upheaval she had influenced?

Breaking such an oath would border on sacrilege. Or worse. It could bring divine wrath upon them. Neither man could be certain that Athena would ignore such a violation.

Crassus swallowed, then forced a weak chuckle.

“Isn’t that… excessive, Septimius?”

“Perhaps,” Nathan said. “But if you intend to keep your promises, then you lose nothing.”

Fulvius nodded slowly, though his expression remained guarded.

“That depends entirely on your conditions. I will not agree to anything that places Rome in danger.”

“I won’t ask for anything that harms Rome,” Nathan replied calmly.

“Then speak,” Fulvius said, straightening, prepared to hear him out.

“No,” Nathan said, rising slightly as he adjusted his position. “Not here. Not now. And not while the people who matter most are absent.”

Fulvius frowned.

“People? Who else must be involved?”

Nathan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked a different question altogether.

“Tell me—who will truly rule Rome now?”

Fulvius blinked.

“The Emperor and the Senators, naturally.”

Nathan’s lips curved, not into a smirk, but into something more subtle—knowing, almost amused.

“I want the true leaders,” he said softly. “The ones in the shadows. I believe in your democracy, Fulvius. I believe in the Senate’s rights to vote. And I am willing to trust that you will not corrupt them the way Caesar did.”

Both Fulvius and Crassus looked at him, confusion mixing with unease.

“But,” Nathan continued, “I also know how power works. And I know that you two—whether acknowledged or not—will shape Rome’s future decisions. The Senate will follow you, even when they think they are acting independently.”

Fulvius hesitated, then nodded.

“You are correct,” he admitted. “There is no reason to deny it.”

“And I do not blame you,” Nathan said. “In fact, I want you to hold great power. I want the two of you to wield as much authority as Caesar once did.”

Both men stared at him in surprise—as if the very idea contradicted everything they thought they knew about him.

Crassus leaned forward slowly.

“Isn’t that the reason you brought Caesar down?” he asked. “Because he bought the Senate, bent it to his will, and forced them to obey his every whim?”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed faintly, not in anger but in contemplation.

“Caesar thought only of himself,” Nathan said. His voice dropped, firm and resonant. “But you two are different.”

He turned toward Fulvius first.

“One of you thinks of Rome above all else… even at great personal cost.”

Then he shifted his attention to Crassus.

“And the other thinks first of his family. His bloodline. His legacy. Yet he has no obsession with power for its own sake.”

Crassus’s brows pulled together, a faint crease settling between them.

“You’re exaggerating,” he muttered, though there was a defensive edge beneath his composed voice. “I do think about Rome as well.”

Nathan tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Perhaps you do,” he said. “But I also know your family stands above everything else for you. And honestly? I don’t blame you. At least you understand that Rome’s safety is directly tied to your family’s safety. If Rome falls, they fall with it.”

Fulvius, who had been observing the exchange with a sharp glimmer in his eyes, leaned forward.

“You seem to hold us both in high regard,” he said. “Then why won’t you tell us your conditions now?”

Nathan’s gaze drifted across the room, scanning the faces present before narrowing slightly.

“Two people are missing,” he said quietly. “Servilia… and the Pope of the Athena’s Church.”

Fulvius straightened at that.

“I can understand seeing the Pope’s absence as a problem… but Servilia?” He asked, confusion creasing his forehead.

Nathan rested his cheek against his fist, studying Fulvius with slight amusement.

“Is that because she’s a woman?”

“There is that, yes,” Fulvius admitted after a moment of hesitation. “Men have always held most of the power in Rome. However…” He exhaled, gathering his thoughts. “Servilia hails from a great house. It’s no secret she was Caesar’s lover for a time. Because of that, she would never be accepted. Not easily.”

“I don’t care for excuses,” Nathan cut in sharply. His voice no longer playful, but firm. “You yourself said she comes from a great house—the House of Junii. Tell me…” His eyes slid to Crassus. “How many houses stand on equal footing with hers?”

Crassus didn’t hesitate. “My house,” he said simply. Then he looked toward Fulvius, silently asking for confirmation.

Fulvius shook his head slowly. “The Junii are an ancient line… one of Rome’s founding houses. More important and more influential than mine could ever hope to be.”

Nathan smiled, pleased. “I appreciate your honesty, Fulvius.”

“But even so,” Fulvius continued, his voice turning serious again, “people won’t simply forget that she was once close to Caesar. His shadow still lingers over Rome.”

“Then make them forget it,” Nathan replied, his tone flat, uncompromising. “I’ve heard plenty about you during my stay in Rome. Everyone praises that sharp, venomous, but surprisingly smooth tongue of yours.”

Fulvius visibly stiffened at the remark, his expression twisting as though the words both flattered and wounded him.

Crassus, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath.

“Use that tongue properly,” Nathan went on. “Make them forget. Clean her image. Rewrite it completely.” His gaze shifted between the two men. “She is my woman now. Use my name however you need if it helps.”

Fulvius blinked. Then he blinked again—harder.

“W…What?” he stammered, as Crassus’s eyes widened so much they looked ready to pop out of his skull.

“You heard me,” Nathan said. “She is my woman. And I am very protective of my women.” His eyes, so calm moments before, turned frost-cold. “Do you understand?”

Fulvius let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, disbelief coating his features.

“You want one of your women to stand on equal footing with us? How much influence do you want in Rome? What exactly are you planning?”

Nathan leaned back, unbothered by the suspicion, the tension, or the heavy weight of their expectations.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said calmly. “I have no intention of taking Rome for myself. I don’t want to rule it, and I don’t desire the title of Emperor.”

His voice softened slightly, though the conviction behind it remained.

“But I would feel reassured knowing that one of my women is among those who rule it.”

Fulvius studied Nathan’s face with the precision of a man accustomed to reading hidden motives in every twitch and breath. But this time… there was nothing. No flicker of deceit, no subtle manipulation weaving beneath the surface.What he saw was simply the truth.

Nathan wanted Servilia to stand among the rulers of Rome not as a political puppet, nor as leverage, nor as the foundation of a secret scheme—but because he trusted her. Trusted her more than he trusted Crassus, or Fulvius himself.It was almost absurd in its simplicity.

Fulvius let out a slow sigh, the weight of that realization settling on his shoulders.

“It seems I underestimated Servilia,” he murmured. “She managed to shift from Caesar to an even better figure—”

He didn’t finish.

A sudden chill crawled up his spine, like icy fingers closing around the back of his neck.

He looked at Nathan.

The young man’s expression was frigid, his gaze cold enough to freeze blood. The air itself seemed to thicken under the sharpness of it. Nathan clearly didn’t care for how Fulvius’s words could imply Servilia was the type to latch onto powerful men like a leech—or worse.

Fulvius swallowed, the realization hitting him hard. He hadn’t meant it that way, but intent mattered far less than how Nathan interpreted the remark.

“You… you truly love her?” Fulvius asked, almost hesitant.

“As much as I love your daughter,” Nathan replied without missing a beat.

Fulvius’s expression contorted once again. For a brief second, he wondered if the title of venom-tongued should actually belong to Nathan instead of him. The boy could choke a man with a single sentence.

But the implication behind those words rang clear:

Nathan did care for his daughter, Fulvia. Deeply.

Should he be pleased?

Was it relief he felt—or dread?

There was no better partner than someone as famed, as strong, as terrifyingly influential as the great Septimius… and yet that very power made Fulvius’s stomach twist.

“I had been considering marrying Fulvia into another house,” he admitted cautiously.

“Forget that thought,” Nathan said immediately.

Fulvius raised a brow. “Do I have any say in the matter of my daughter’s future?”

Nathan’s response was sharp enough to cut flesh.

“You threw your daughter at that worthless Marcus Antonius. That alone is enough reason to leave the decision to her now. Don’t worry—” His tone shifted into a calm certainty that was somehow more terrifying. “I’ll give her a healthy child to inherit your house.”

He rose then and walked out, Medea gliding behind him like a silent shadow.

Thankfully Fulvius didn’t have any mind read abilities considering the murderous thought she had at what she considered a impolite behaviour toward her beloved Nathan.

Fulvius exhaled, the tension finally escaping his lungs.

“He is even more dangerous than Caesar,” he murmured, watching Nathan disappear down the corridor.

Crassus gave a short laugh that held no humor.

“You’re greatly underestimating him,” he replied. “We should be grateful the gods placed him on our side—and that he loves both our daughters.”

Fulvius turned to stare at him. Crassus was grinning, utterly unashamed.

Shameless as it was, Crassus couldn’t have asked for a better man to tie his family to.

If Nathan loved his daughter Licinia even half as fiercely as he seemed to love Servilia or Fulvia, then the power of the House of Crassus was secure.

Nathan’s loyalty, as terrifying as his wrath, would shield them if the world turned hostile.

And Fulvius knew Crassus was right.

Septimius was the most dangerous man in Rome—and that was exactly why they needed him.