Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The roots had already taken hold and a good system was in place to reinforce the trunk.

Now, now was the time for the branches to spread, spread across the continent as if it was the mythical world tree itself.

The Shadow Network—once a mere means of national defense against exterior nations attempted influence and subterfuge—had matured.

What had begun as palace infiltration drills, and 'attempted' assassination to graduate competent agents, had evolved into something far greater.

The men and women who once struggled to sneak past a handful of guards now vanished into the night like wraiths, slipping past enemy lines, collecting whispers in the dark, and leaving behind nothing but unease in their wake.

Now, they were ready for the next step.

The Tree was growing.

Julius stood at the head of a dimly lit chamber deep within the heart of Romanus, a place that did not exist on any official record.

Seated around him were the architects of his expanding empire: Zeff, Miri, Commander Berta, General Elheat, and a handful of hooded figures—operatives whose names were known only to him, while within the organization would be Trunks.

A massive map of the continent lay before them, its surface marked with intricate patterns of ink and thread.

Each thread extended from Romanus to the surrounding nations, weaving a web of influence and control.

Red pins marked locations where their agents had already infiltrated.

Blue pins represented those in progress.

And the black pins… those marked the places where blood had been spilled in the process.

"The time has come,"

Julius said, his voice low, but heavy with intent.

"We've spent months refining our methods, but now we must expand beyond our borders. Our spies must not only observe but also manipulate. We will be the storm on the horizon, the unseen hand that turns kings into puppets and nations into pawns, we need to know what is happening as soon as our enemies come up with their plans."

Zeff grinned, leaning back in his chair.

"You always had a flair for the dramatic, Julius. But I like it. Better than getting caught with our pants down."

Miri shot him a sharp glance.

"This isn't a game, Zeff. We're talking about something that could decide the fate of entire countries."

"Exactly,"

Julius cut in.

"We start with the minor powers—the trade republics, the border kingdoms. We infiltrate their courts, their militaries, their merchant guilds. We control their flow of information, their fears, and their ambitions. Before they even realize it, they'll be dancing to our tune."

"And what of the greater powers?"

Berta asked, arms crossed.

"We bide our time,"

Julius replied.

"Our branches must reach every corner of the continent before we strike. Only when we hold the roots of their own nations in our grasp do we move against the true enemies."

There was a silence in the room.

Everyone knew who he meant.

The Empire of Visigoth.

but at the same time they also felt an underlying second target...

And that was, whomever had taken Yurasia.

The ones who had to burn under vengeful cleansing flames.

~

The first seeds of the operation were planted within days of agents arriving at their target locations.

Agents disguised as scholars and merchants slipped into neighbouring cities, embedding themselves within society, before getting recognized by their corrupt nobility, all the while funneling funds into the local economy by way of enriching the poor and destitute, to the point almost every slumrat (child) was actually an unofficial agent of the ever growing tree.

Others joined mercenary companies, whispering words of division into the ears of their commanders gathering up a nations strength and securing their loyalties to the point that they could strike from within should the need arise.

A caravan of "wandering healers" entered the lands of the Divine Kingdom, but they carried more than just medicine—they carried secrets, stolen letters, and poisons that would never be traced back to Romanus.

Meanwhile, Elheat's war games intensified further, and the public who'd become enamored by the sports like spectacle began to enlist willingly to join in on the growing grand army.

The Praetorians and the elite infiltrators—now referred to as The Umbra Corps—faced each other in increasingly elaborate simulations, refining their skills in deception and counter-espionage.

Fortresses became proving grounds.

Entire towns were turned into mock battlegrounds with even the public joining in as both aiders to the 'rebels' and resistors against the invading armies.

Of course no one ever suspected anyone of being a traitor everyone knew the towns were the location of the next drill and those who acted on the sides were informed and even paid for their participation.

But these were no longer mere drills.

One evening, Zeff reported to Julius with an unsettling smile.

"The last trial run ended… differently,"

he said.

Julius raised a brow.

"How so?"

"One of the new recruits got too into the role. When we told him to simulate an assassination attempt, he actually went for the throat."

Julius exhaled through his nose.

"And the victim?"

"He lived. Barely. Thankfully the 'assassin' only had a blunted blade given by us."

Miri scowled.

"This is getting out of hand."

Julius shook his head.

"No. This means it's working."

Zeff's grin widened.

Commander Berta, however, frowned.

"We are forging killers, not butchers. If we lose sight of that line, we become the very thing we seek to destroy."

"A good point,"

Julius admitted.

"But the line was always an illusion, wasn't it? we just got them more comfortable to the point that they've also realized that."

Silence settled over the chamber.

No one could argue.

~

Within two months, the Tree of Romanus had extended its reach into seven nations as the 'shadow' of Rome stretched across the land.

In the city Aurea, a lowly clerk had begun feeding them copies of every royal decree before it was even signed, having become a lover of a royal guard who snuck her into the castle for midnight rendezvous.

In the Sarmatia Imperium, a senior general's wife had been seduced, her pillow talk revealing key weaknesses in their army's supply chain, and even movements of the national army.

In the Principality of Christendom, a cardinal known for his unshakable faith had begun to question the very foundation of his beliefs—thanks to the carefully placed "ancient texts" slipped into his personal library.

And in Richelieu, deep behind enemy lines, one of their agents sent only a single message via carrier pigeon before vanishing into the night:

"I've found her."

That was all that was written on the note, the parchment piece stained with the iron of blood.

After all these months, after all the blood, the training, the sacrifice—there she was, at long last.

His damsel in distress, waiting to be saved.

And once this new returned to be received by Julius, there would be war.