11 October 46
North Africa
"Did it work?"
The dark-skinned man lay on a simple bed, covered from the waist down with a sheet. He was sweating profusely and his breathing was ragged.
A light-skinned man in a deep brown robe dabbed at the other man's forehead with a wet piece of cloth. "You're the first to survive, Bes. That must mean something."
"It might mean nothing."
"I doubt it."
There was a soft knock at the door and someone in the hall pushed it open. "How is he, Justis?"
"He is alive."
"And I can speak," Bes croaked from his position on the bed.
"Open your eyes." A tall, olive skinned man with close-cropped gray hair swept into the room with a small oil lamp. He pulled the injured man's eyes wider.
"I can see, unless you plan on blinding me, Leo," the injured man said grouchily. He threw a hand over his face.
"He's going to be fine." Justis threw the wet piece of cloth into a bucket.
"How will we know it works?" Leo asked nervously.
"He's not dead, isn't that enough?" Justis grabbed a nearby sponge and wet it before beginning to scrub the injured man's body.
"But what if he… what if he's turned into one of them.
"I don't think that's going to happen," Bes said. "Wouldn't it show?"
"We'll have to wait." Justis rinsed his rag out and then resumed his task.
"At least there's a chance of surviving now," Leo said with a regretful sigh.
"The jackal-men will bother us no longer," Bes insisted. "I feel myself getting stronger. I will kill them and save us all, Master."
The two standing men exchanged glances.
"Bes, you have been a good servant and friend to me," Leo said reassuringly. "But I do not presume to own you anymore. You have come too far for that."
Bes' eyes flew open. "Where will I go? What will I do? How will I eat?!"
"You will be well cared for." Justis put a reassuring hand on him. "But you will no longer be a slave."
"What will I be?" Bes asked, for the first time looking no older than his 15 years.
"You will be a citizen of Rome. And a Grimm."