Chapter 88: Laws for the State

The next morning...

Lucius sat at a desk near the hearth, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

The events of the previous day had left him unable to sleep.

Instead of dwelling on the tension building between the women in his empire, Lucius did what he always did when his mind was troubled.

He retreated into the logic of the *Lex Syndicata*.

He was reviewing the judicial branch of his constitution. If the Syndicate was going to function as a republic, he needed to eradicate Roman provincial law...

The legal system in Gaul was corrupt. Patricians could purchase acquittals from magistrates, while plebeians were crucified for stealing bread.

Furthermore, the influx of peasants fleeing the wars in the north had created slums in the capital, leading to a rise in smuggling rings and gangs.

Lucius dipped his stylus, his expression hardening. He was going to wipe the criminal underground from Gaul.

Lucius had watched the rise of cartels in his past life, where crime became entrenched and bought the government. He refused to allow his revolution to be leeched by gangsters.

The penalty for associating with a criminal syndicate was not imprisonment. It was execution by firing squad.

Lucius did not care if the association was for extortion or tax fraud. If a man swore loyalty to a gang over the Syndicate, his life was forfeit. The roots of crime were going to be pulled from the soil.

He moved on to felonies: murder, kidnapping, and rape.

The penalty was identical. Death by firing squad.

For offenders convicted of harming children, Lucius wrote a mandate. They would be castrated by Kallias’s apothecaries and sentenced to lifetime servitude in the sulfur mines. They would never see sunlight.

If they died from exhaustion, their bodies would be tossed into the slag heaps.

To govern the rest of the criminal spectrum, Lucius abolished Roman prisons.

A static prison was a drain on state resources, requiring food, water, and guards for men who contributed nothing to society.

Instead, he mandated the creation of **Industrial Labor Camps**.

Anyone convicted of a felony was sentenced to labor.

They would dig the canal systems, lay the foundations for the docks, or haul coal for the foundries. They would pay their debt to the Syndicate through labor.

Lucius instituted a "Three Strikes" policy. If a citizen survived their labor sentence, was released, and convicted of a felony two more times, they were declared a liability to the state.

The third conviction carried a death sentence.

However, to ensure he wasn’t executing laborers on the whim of a foreman, Lucius introduced a concept alien to the ancient world: *Innocent until proven guilty*.

The burden of proof rested on the Syndicate’s prosecutors. Furthermore, a death sentence carried the right to an appeal before a Tribunal of Merit.

If the conviction was upheld upon review, the execution was carried out the next morning.

Lucius had watched taxpayers in the 21st century waste millions keeping guilty men alive for decades. He refused to waste a coin on a condemned man.

To enforce this code, Lucius could not rely on the *Custodes*.

Using infantry to police the slums bred resentment among the plebeians. He needed a localized police force.

He drafted the formation of the **Syndicate Constabulary**.

These would be civilian volunteers drawn from the local populations, ensuring the people were policed by their neighbors rather than an occupying force.

They would be paid a wage and held to standards of conduct.

Torture of Syndicate citizens for confessions was outlawed... though interrogation of Roman spies by Isolda’s operatives remained legal and encouraged.

To differentiate the Constabulary from the armor of the *Custodes*, Lucius mandated a uniform. The constables would wear crimson coats over breastplates, ensuring they were visible on the streets.

But the intimidation factor lay in their armament...

Lucius sketched a weapon for law enforcement. It was a scaled-down variant of the Decimus Engine... a pistol crossbow designed for close-quarters stopping power.

It lacked the cassette of the rifles, but it was light enough to be worn on a hip belt and powerful enough to drop a criminal.

As Lucius finalized the budget allocation for the constabulary uniforms, the door of the study clicked open.

He didn’t look up, assuming it was a servant bringing tea. But a moment later, a voice echoed across the room.

"I see you are awake early, Forge Master. Did you find your sleep troubled?"

Lucius froze. He lifted his head.

Isolda stood in the doorway, dressed in her gown.

Her hair was braided, and her eyes were locked onto him.

She walked into the room, the door closing behind her.

Lucius set his stylus down on the *Lex Syndicata*. He knew what this was about.

"I found myself inspired to finalize the criminal code," Lucius replied, keeping his tone neutral.

Isolda stopped in front of the desk. She did not sit. She stared down at him, her hands resting on the edge of the wood.

"The criminal code," Isolda repeated. "How practical of you. Tell me, Lucius... does this legal framework include penalties for treason? Or perhaps... sabotage of the Directorate?"

"It covers all manner of betrayal," Lucius answered, leaning back in his chair.

Isolda let out a chuckle that did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

She leaned forward, bracing her weight against the desk, bringing her face inches from his.

"I was standing on the balcony yesterday afternoon," Isolda whispered. "I saw you walking with the Roman girl. I saw her touch your face. And I saw her kiss you."

Lucius didn’t flinch. He met her gaze with honesty.

"She kissed me, Isolda," Lucius stated. "I did not kiss her. It was the act of a girl who has spent her life locked in a cage."

Isolda’s jaw tightened. She reached out, her fingers gripping the collar of his tunic.

"She is a Roman patrician," Isolda hissed, her grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. "She was bred to manipulate men in power. She is trying to wedge herself into my place, Lucius. She is trying to steal the Forge."

"Let her try," Lucius challenged. He reached up, his hands gripping Isolda’s wrists. "Do you believe a sheltered aristocrat possesses the strength to stand beside me? She read Archimedes in a library. You orchestrated the assassination of a Roman garrison. You are my wife. There is no contest. There never was."

Isolda stared into his eyes, searching for hesitation or deceit.

The tension bled out of her shoulders. Her grip on his tunic loosened, and she let out a breath.

Isolda closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. A smile touched her lips.

"Very well," Isolda murmured, opening her eyes. "But if that Roman girl ever touches your face again... I will drag her to the sulfur mines."