Justinian had a general.

Corpus is named for that compilation, and the name goes deeper than the masthead. Inside the platform, statutes live in database schemas called codex and digesta; sources are tracked in the scriptorium; accounts in the census. Basilika mode — the law in plain language — takes its name from the Basilika, the ninth-century restatement that made Justinian's code readable again.

So when we built an agent to do the work, there was only one name for him. American law has scattered exactly the way Rome's did: thousands of municipalities keeping their codes in paper books, scanned PDFs, and paywalled portals — law that governs people who cannot read it. Compiling it isn't a project. It's a campaign. And a campaign needs a general.

• ReconquestHe recovers the law city by city — finding codes, ingesting them through one verified entry path, every provision checksummed, embedded for search, and cited back to its official source.
• CurrencyHis doctrine is currency over conquest: held ground first. Every source he has ever taken sits on a revisit schedule, and stale law gets flagged before new territory does.
• The surveyRome sent agrimensores — surveyors — behind its armies. Belisarius maps zoning district by district, each zone joined back to the ordinance text that defines it.
• The reckoningAnd he keeps score. Every city he studies is graded publicly on how hard it makes its own law to read — because Corpus began with a town that made it nearly impossible.

The library earns its keep the same way. Belisarius moonlights as Corpus's corporate counsel: he forms LLCs and nonprofits in conversation, with the state fee and our service fee shown before you pay — no $0 teaser with a renewal trap. Formation revenue is the war chest: it funds the ingestion, the storage, and the free reading room. Every founder who forms a company with him is paying the wage of a campaign to keep the law free to read.

An autonomous agent is a general you have to be able to trust, so ours operates under a constitution he cannot amend. He cannot send an email: outbound mail drains from an outbox a human approved, item by item. He cannot file a formation: two gates stand in the way, and the second is cryptographically bound to the exact filing a named administrator signed off on. Every action he takes lands in an append-only ledger. He does the work; the crown — the authority to act on the world — stays human.

Our Belisarius keeps no secret history. Everything he does is written where you can read it — and check it.