Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

After settling the matter of the Dragon of Albion, Novia stayed in Britannia for about two months, taking the opportunity to properly handle those tribes that had been the first to side with Rome during its expedition to the island.

Since Rome's conquest of Britannia, Emperor Claudius and the Senate had pursued a joint strategy of plundering local wealth through heavy taxation and usurious loans. The tribes that chose to align themselves with Rome relied on the empire's military deterrence and financial support, thus managing to survive in relatively decent conditions.

Given Novia's current status, his visit was naturally interpreted as carrying Emperor Claudius' will. The silver-haired boy expressed conditional approval of these tribes' autonomy—so long as they could repay their debts to Rome and abide by Roman law, their independence could be maintained. In fact, over time, policy might even shift toward appeasement and pacification.

The truth was, Novia's real purpose in this was to prevent the infamous Britannian uprising from erupting in the future. Among the tribes that had sided with Rome were the Iceni, whose leader was Boudica's husband. According to Novia's memory, that man, before his death, had intended to divide his territory—half for his children, the other half to repay Rome's debts.

Yet history tells us the Roman governor of Britannia ignored this arrangement, seizing all their land without imperial approval and humiliating the family members who came seeking justice. That, along with the oppressive taxation, became the visible spark that ignited the rebellion.

Thus, Novia made this arrangement as a safeguard. With Britannia now a province under the direct control of the emperor, and with Novia enjoying Claudius' considerable trust, it was entirely within his power to select a trustworthy successor to Lucius as governor once his term ended.

With everything arranged, Novia returned to Rome. Officially, he'd used the excuse of "suspicious signs of change within the local Druidic religion in Britannia" to gain Claudius' permission to travel there.

The noonday sun hung high in the sky. After finishing his lessons, Novia had tossed Domitius back into the house to continue studying doctrine, while he himself sat outside in a chair. He knew full well that the blonde girl's true passions were music, art, literature, and drama—but for now, religious instruction took precedence.

His azure eyes reflected the endless grasslands and tiny flowers—a pastoral scene so harmonious it resembled an illustration straight from a fairy tale.

To this day, Novia still lived outside the city of Rome, having repeatedly declined Claudius' offers of housing within the city proper.

"Ten more months until things are ready in Britannia… Then there's the Senate, Agrippina, Claudius, Jerusalem, Judaism…"

These were, in Novia's eyes, the next looming headaches.

"One at a time."

After all, vast territory was the greatest obstacle to governance.

In the Roman Empire's forty-five provinces, there existed a rough division: governors appointed by the emperor, and governors appointed by the Senate. The imperial provinces were typically border regions of strategic importance or crucial grain-producing areas like Germania and Egypt, often heavily garrisoned. Senate provinces, by contrast, tended to be wealthy interior regions—none more important than the Greek provinces.

The founder of the Roman Empire, Augustus, had designed it this way for a simple reason: to buy Senate support for the emperor with money.

Currently, the spread of Novia's version of Christianity was progressing rapidly in the emperor's provinces. But in the Senate's provinces—apart from areas Novia and Paul had directly influenced—it advanced at a crawl.

At its core, Novia's religious campaign entering the Greek provinces was part of his strategy to wrest control of Greece. But Greece was the Senate's core interest, and the Senate would naturally resist with everything they had. The entrenched social elite, obsessed with maintaining their privileges and vast wealth, would never voluntarily surrender their grip on power.

Meanwhile, at the imperial court, Agrippina had—just as Novia expected—approached him several times since becoming Claudius' secretary to discuss being named empress. Although Novia advised the aging emperor to observe her a while longer, it was clear that moment wasn't far off. Agrippina had indeed performed admirably.

As for Emperor Claudius himself, while he generally heeded Novia's advice, he always deflected when it came to two topics: reorganizing the Praetorian Guard, and declaring Novia's reformed Christianity as the Roman state religion.

Novia understood perfectly well—the old emperor wanted to keep some cards close to his chest. Should Novia succeed in crushing the Senate, Claudius wanted to ensure Novia couldn't threaten him in turn. After all, control of the Praetorian Guard meant control of the emperor's fate.

The Senate, with its power to reject imperial appointments, and the Praetorian Guard, with its ability to decide an emperor's life or death—both stood as obstacles to Novia's goal of making his Christianity Rome's official religion.

As for Judaism entrenched in Jerusalem, Novia had long known how to deal with that. He could ignore other regions, but those people… they had executed Jesus, the Son whose gospel Novia now preached. Regardless of theological spin about divine sacrifice, the fact remained—they had "betrayed" him. They had to be dealt with.

Once Novia received the weapon forged from the Dragon of Albion's skull a year from now, he planned to fabricate a suitable excuse, declare them all heretics, and lead Rome's legions in a new, modern "Roman Captivity" for them.

As for accusations of villainy or future slander? Novia couldn't care less. So long as he successfully orchestrated these events—forming the Holy Church ahead of schedule and becoming its first pope—future believers would scramble to justify him. Black would be spun into white. After all, wasn't that a kind of legal doctrine in itself? Even the Saintly Empress Wu of the East, centuries later, played by those same rules.

What's more, Novia personally knew John—the very John who would one day write the New Testament—as one of the Twelve Apostles raised by Paul. In that sense, the silver-haired youth's every action could be said to serve the glory of Christ. Who knew, perhaps history would elevate him to sainthood for it.

"Three years already…"

Taking a deep breath, Novia reflected. It had been three years since he left the province of Anatolia. His memories of that place had grown faint, and with that fading came a quiet loneliness. It was easier when chatting with Lucius, but now, alone, the homesickness was hard to ignore.

Memories inevitably degrade, their details lost to time.

"Agrippina isn't capable of playing any tricks just yet… at least outwardly, she's still on my side." Novia exhaled lightly, rising to his feet and heading toward the imperial palace. "Guess I'll sail back and take a look in a few days."

Still, Novia realized… compared to building a new life, what he missed most was his old home.

For a man, that… perhaps… was something not worth reflecting on.