Dies Martis, Tricensimus Mensis Iunii, Anno Urbis Conditae MCCXXX
(Tuesday, 30th Day of June, Year of the Founding of the City 1230)
The final day of June dawned, hot and humid. Tomorrow, Alexander would meet with his Imperial Council to receive their reports, a meeting that would mark the public beginning of his true reign. The strategies for dealing with the Senate and General Marcellus were largely in place, contingent on the data he was about to receive. But Alexander Volkov had not built an empire in his past life by waiting patiently for scheduled meetings. He believed in seizing the initiative, in shaping the environment before a major engagement.
For the past week, Scaeva's discreet operatives, led by the pragmatic Titus Pullo, had continued their surveillance of the Tiber Rats gang and their shadowy leader, Volcatius. Their reports, delivered daily to Scaeva and then summarized for Alexander, painted a picture of a sophisticated smuggling operation. Volcatius, it seemed, was the primary fence in the city for stolen high-value goods and the main importer of untaxed luxuries from the port of Ostia. He operated out of a network of warehouses in the Transtiberim district, protected by paid-off dock officials and a brutal cadre of enforcers. The "physician's package" remained a mystery, but the scale of Volcatius's illicit enterprise was clearly a significant drain on state revenues and a source of corruption that reached into the city's administrative branches.
This operation was a symptom of a wider disease. Alexander knew he couldn't simply send the Praetorian Guard to smash one gang; Volcatius was not the cause, but the result of a system rife with opportunity for graft. A direct assault would be messy and might only scatter the rats. He needed a more elegant, more insidious weapon. He needed to turn the city's greed against itself.
That morning, he summoned an exclusive group to his study: Quaestor Valerius Capito, for his financial acumen, and City Prefect Titus Varro, for his enforcement authority. Livia was also present, her attendance at such meetings now an accepted custom.
When the two officials had arrived and paid their respects, Alexander got straight to the point. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice calm and clear. "While we await the full reports from the Council tomorrow, an immediate matter of civic order and fiscal integrity has come to my attention. The level of smuggling and black-market activity within Rome has become an intolerable drain on our treasury and a mockery of Imperial law."
Capito nodded gravely. "It is a persistent problem, Your Majesty. Difficult to uproot."
Varro's expression was stern. "My city cohorts do what they can, Majesty, but the smugglers are like water; they flow through any crack."
"Then we shall seal the cracks," Alexander stated. "Today, I will issue my first formal Edict since my recovery. An Edict on Illicit Commerce."
He gestured to Scaeva, who stepped forward and handed copies of a prepared scroll to both men. "The edict will be simple," Alexander explained as they read. "First, it doubles the penalties for all forms of smuggling, tax evasion on commercial goods, and the sale of stolen property. Seizure of all assets will be mandatory upon conviction."
Varro grunted, a sound of approval. "Harsh measures are needed, Majesty."
"But penalties are useless without enforcement," Alexander continued, his eyes glinting. "And enforcement requires information. Therefore, the second, and most crucial, part of this edict is this: a reward system for informants. Any citizen who provides information leading to the conviction of smugglers or tax evaders, and the seizure of their illicit goods, will be granted twenty percent of the total value of the recovered assets and fines, paid directly from the treasury. Their identity will be protected by the full authority of the Prefect's office."
Capito looked up from the scroll, his sharp eyes wide with surprise, then dawning comprehension. "Twenty percent, Majesty? That is… a substantial incentive. The city would be flooded with accusations, both true and false."
"Precisely, Quaestor," Alexander said. "It will create chaos for the criminal networks. They will not know who to trust. A captain will not trust his crew; a gang leader will not trust his own enforcers. Every man with knowledge of a crime will have to weigh his loyalty against the prospect of life-altering wealth. We will turn their greed into our greatest weapon."
This was a concept alien to traditional Roman law, which relied on formal accusations and patronage networks. Alexander was introducing a brutally transactional, almost corporate, whistleblower policy.
"The false accusations you mention, Capito, will be a problem for Prefect Varro to manage," Alexander said, turning to the old soldier. "I expect you to establish a small, dedicated unit within your office to vet these informants. Initial claims must be substantiated with some evidence before a full investigation is launched. We are not creating a system for settling petty grudges, but for dismantling criminal enterprises. It will be difficult, but the potential rewards for the state are immense."
Varro's brow was furrowed in thought. "It will strain my resources, Majesty. But… the principle is sound. Greed is a powerful motivator. This will give us ears in places we have never had them before."
"It will also serve another purpose," Alexander added, looking between the two men. "It sends a message to Senator Cicero and his allies, who claim this administration is idle on matters of economic integrity. This is a direct assault on the black-market economy that deprives the state of revenue. It is an act of fiscal reform they cannot possibly oppose without revealing their own hypocrisy. It demonstrates that this Emperor is committed to law, order, and a full treasury."
Livia, who had been listening intently, allowed a slow, appreciative smile to form. He was not just addressing a problem; he was seizing the political narrative, acting on his own terms before the Senate could react to the Council's reports.
"The Edict will be proclaimed in the Forum at noon," Alexander commanded. "Prefect Varro, have your men ready. Quaestor Capito, prepare your office to handle the disbursement of rewards. I want the city to know, by nightfall, that the rules have changed."
"It shall be done, Your Majesty," both men said in unison, a new energy in their demeanor. They were being given a new, aggressive tool, a clear directive from an Emperor who was not just managing decline, but actively attacking its symptoms.
After they had departed, Livia looked at her son. "You would turn the entire city into a network of spies for coin."
"Information is the true currency of power, Mother," Alexander replied. "And I am willing to pay a premium for it. This edict will give me a thousand new eyes watching Volcatius and his ilk. When they make a mistake, when one of their own betrays them for a bag of gold, Scaeva and I will be waiting."
Later that day, from a high window in the palace, Alexander watched the city. He could not see the Forum, could not hear the proclamation being read, but he could imagine it. He could imagine the stir it would cause, the whispers that would spread through the marketplaces, the docks, the taverns. The fear that would begin to creep into the hearts of men like Volcatius. The avarice that would light up the eyes of their subordinates.
He had thrown a stone into the murky pond of Rome's underworld. Now, he would watch the ripples. This was a small move in the grand scheme of things, a tactical strike before the strategic campaign that would begin with tomorrow's council meeting. But it was a move that was entirely his, born of his own unique, ruthless worldview. He was not just playing their game anymore. He was forcing them to play his.