When he's much older and (he likes to think) wiser, Octavius looks back on the first few decades of his life. On bitter days, he questions his stubbornness and reasoning of war. Surely, he thinks, he would have been happier if he had just stopped fighting and actually gotten to know Jedediah? But deep down, he understands that war served its purpose.

It helped distract him–for one thing–from the memories. (He supposes that's not exactly what they are. He knows that its is not his body who has experience. His eyes haven't seen what he remembers.) It isn't until much later that Ocatvius realizes that it must have done the same for his men. Logically, even the cowboys were going through the same thing.

The first night Ahkmenrah brings the museum to life, there's too much confusion for the usual havoc. "It took some getting used to." Teddy was not wrong about that.

When he wakes up, Octavius is frozen as though he's commanding drills. His men relax mid-march. Octavius lowers his sword and stares straight ahead. He blinks hard once, twice, but his surroundings do not change. To the right of him is strange, but not concerning. The senate is too close to the barracks, and he has no clue why the bath house, of all places, is seated next door. Behind that, he can see homes riddles along narrow paths. Surely, no city adviser would place houses directly downtown? Further off to the left is the Colosseum–smaller than he remembers, and a bit more damaged. But it's the view to the left that's unsettling.

A huge, gaping hole sits no more that 50 feet to the left of Octavius. He can see what appears to be a stone tiled room, one larger than all of Rome, and gigantic wooden seats placed evenly through out it. He can't see very far down the sides, but it appears to be longer than it is wide.

A servant calls to him, questioning, but he doesn't respond until his second-in-command, Sergius, reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

"Octavius." He turns to his name. "Octavius, what has happened?" He does nothing but shake his head and blink.

Murmurs arise from his army. He can see movement out of the corner of his eye as people clamor out of the buildings and into open land. Panic is settling in. Octavius knows this is bad, really bad. No army can function when it's soldiers run about screaming. Octavius raises is sword once again, and the people quiet down.

He vaguely wonders why he has this instinct of leadership, why this sword fits so well in his hand, and why "continue marching! It's just new land for Rome to conquer! I've never met a good soldier who didn't like a challenge!" is what he says to calm the masses. Either way, this seems to work. After a moment, his men follow his command and continue drills. Octavius can hear the citizens mumble something about the gods and return home. Sergius looks at him oddly for a moment, but continues leading right along with him.

They continue training until they're frozen once again. Every break they get sees Octavius contemplating. He wonders why he has no memories, yet recalls each of the soldiers' names. He understands the drills Sergius suggests to him, but doesn't remember ever learning them. Breaks get shorter and become more sparse, but no one complains.

This is the first time war distracts them.

This continues for a few days, but no one can deny what surrounds them. Octavius traditionally holds the most power in the city, being general and all, which prompts some of the other higher-ups–Sergius included–to suggest that he become Caesar. Octavius refuses, of course. Instead, he gives the Senate more power and picks some advisers to help in this confusing time. On the third night, they hold a meeting.

"We should send out an expedition!" suggests Plinius. "The more we know, the better! We can't live in this place, expecting the people to be calm, when we know nothing about it!"

"You're mad, surely! You just said it yourself, we know nothing of this place. This could be death for all we know," responds Seneca.

Sergius sighs. "If this is the after-life then we have no fear of death."

"No, just fear of the gods."

"Octavius, your men are more than capable of handling it, I'm sure. And we have Sergius here to protect Rome. Don't you think it's a good idea?"

Octavius contemplates this. He turns to Sergius with question in his eyes, but he just nods. Finally, Octavius agrees. "Alright… This will give us something to do. And information would help please the people…" Still though, he worries.

Two days later, and the party is ready. Octavius leads the group, followed by his soldiers Cato, Tatius, Vibius, and their medic, Decimus as well as his assistant, Cassia. Plinius had been angered by the idea of a woman joining the search party, sputtering and turning redder and redder with each argument, but Decimus insistend that she was needed and Octavius backed him up. Each of them carried supplies and weapons, ready for whatever they would be met with.

The first obstacle is getting down. Eventually, they find a long enough rope to be tethered above and still reach the floor down below. It's no easy feat climbing all the way down with supplies strapped to their back, but each and everyone of the group does it. Once below, Octavius is faced with the decision of going right towards a much larger, open room, or left to where the hallway curves down. He chooses the first path before hearing a call behind him.

At first, he assumes its a Roman trying to contact him with news, or even just good wishes. But he can't understand a word that's being said.

He turns around to see that Rome is not the only trapped city.

To the right are two more openings that each hold unique and strange cites. Directly next to Rome is a dusty looking town with wooden buildings just barely peaking into Octavius' view. Some of its citizens are peering over to watch as the Romans make their trek. None of them wear tunics or armor. Instead, the men are dressed in more form-fitting clothing as the woman wear floral patterned dresses fitted at the waist. Some of the people have their hands fitted in gloves and fabric tied around their necks. Others wear pointed boots and wide brimmed hats. Surely, these must be barbarians?

Front in center of the crowd stands a man waving his hair vigorously into the air. He repeats what he shouted earlier, but Octavius still can't understand him.

"Quid dixisti? Hem tibi!" Octavius responds.

The man pauses but speaks again.

All at once, the air is knocked out of Octavius' lungs. He bends over and braces is weight on his knees. The Romans around him seem to be affected just as equally. Cato slumps into Vibius–who then stumbles–and Decimus has to be caught by a pale Cassia. Octavius feels as though his brain has hit the back of his skull, enflamed, and then deflated all in the matter of a second. Stars crowd his vision as he pushes his palms to his eyes to relieve the pressure. The stranger continues speaking, but his words are suddenly clear.

"–alright there, partner? Y'all ain't lookin' so good. You speak English, kemosabe?"

"…We're fine!" Decimus slurs.

"So you do speak English! What was that gobbledygook you were saying back there a minute ago?"

"Latin." Octavius straightens out again. "It was Latin."

The man pauses. "Y'all from the church?"

Cato then speaks up. "You wouldn't have any idea where we are, would you?"

A woman down the line from the stranger–who seems to be their leader–answers. "We've been hearin' rumors about some museum. Don't know who got kicked in the head hard enough to start that up, but there ya' go!"

By this point, the commotion has brought other Romans to the line of their own opening. They too, have seem to caught onto English, but whisper quietly to themselves in Latin. Seneca, the adviser who was first against the search party, is among them. "Surely, you're mistaken!"

The leader speaks up once again. "Now, see here. We sent our own gang out just yesterday to have a looksie, and they came hightalin' it back here as soon as they can with word about what they saw. And if I know anything about my men, it's that they're honest. And what they told me sounded darn right like a museum, compadre."

Seneca sneers, but does not respond.

"We'll see for ourselves then," Octavius shouts back. He's had quite enough of this, thank you very much. He doesn't need help to lead his party or to find information. He turns around, heading to the open room, and the rest of the group follows.

"Now I wouldn't do that if I were you! Some pretty big stuff off that-a way!"

Octavius ignores him and continues on.

The barbarian, it seems, was not lying.

Once the party reaches the room, it is pure chaos. The room is not only huge, but it seems to have been made for giants. In the center is a desk, old and worn, with a padded chair seated behind it. Spaced around are the same wooden seats in the hallway where Octavius had started. There's an empty stone platform off to their left and a beast made out of…bones prances around it. Further up the room is a tiger licking its paw as her cub chases his tail. They too, are larger than life. Behind them, a man plated with armor is being chased by a warrior wearing a skirt made of grass. Two brightly clothed girls sit a ways off, giggling about the scene. Octavius just about catches sight of what appears to be a man made of stone before his vision is cut off by a giant hoof.

He unsheathes his sword as he looks up, up, up, to find a man sitting atop a giant horse, beaming down at them.

"Hello down there! Back for another expedition I see!"

"This is our first, actually," responds Vibius. "Those were others who came before us."

"Ah yes, of course! The cowboys! How are they faring along? They seemed quite startled by all this, I'm afraid." The man descends from his horse as he says this, and bends down to meet them on the ground. "Oh, you're Romans! Always liked reading about Romans when I was young!"

Octavius puffs his chest a bit, glad to finally be getting some recognition and respect. "We don't know much about the barbarians. We only met them today," he responds. "Could you tell us a bit whats happening here? Where are we, exactly?"

The man smiles, but it seems weary and his eyes are hard. "Little confusing to explain, my boy. Seems we're in a museum! I know, I know, seems a bit crazy doesn't it? But look around! There's a T-Rex chasing its tail as a Peruvian man tires to keep his llama from eating that man's attire. Down the way are some cavemen throwing rocks at anyone who comes by. I just had a run-in with Attila the Hun, it seems! And you, of course, are an miniature exhibit on Rome, I take it. And I'm Theodore Roosevelt; 26th President of the United States of America, at your service!" Theodore smiles again and salutes.

They all stand in silence for a moment, taking it in. They can hear shouting from outside in more languages than they can count. A deer runs into the room, then skids out through a hallway. Up on the second floor, an elephant stumbles across the balcony as some men poke spears at it. Octavius shakes his head.

"The barbarians weren't wrong then," he responds.

"Afraid not, son. And I would stop calling them barbarians if I were you. You're neighbors now! Get to know each other! Seems we'll be here awhile."

In the night that Octavius is gone, Sergius has started a war.

On any other normal day, Octavius would be furious. He's gone for one god-awful night, and his second-in-command can't keep it together?! He'd make him march up and down the senate steps 100 times back in Rome, and demote him as soon as he was done. But this is not a normal day, and this is not Rome. Octavius is tired, confused, and downright terrified of where he is. He doesn't understand one goddamn thing, not even his own memories, for Jupiter's' sake! So when Sergius breaks the news, he responds with "I trust your judgement on the matter" and gathers his men. There has already been one battle between his army and the…cowboys. They will train for another soon.

This marks the second time war has distracted him.

The second battle does not go well.

It doesn't go badly either, per say. No one is killed, to weapons were damaged, and no soldiers were taken prisoner. But no land was gained, no glory was won. It ends exactly as it started; with frustration.

Plinius yells at him and calls him weak and the war pointless, but then Seneca yells at Plinius and tells him that war gives Rome a goal. No one defends Octavius. The advisers continue arguing as he sits and stares at his feet, feeling small for the first time since he woke up.

The Senate later votes to continue the war, and Octavius follows orders.

The fourth battle into the war, Octavius finally re-meets the leader from the West.

Octavius has just finished knocking out another cowboy with the blunt end of his sword when turns around to barely miss a fist swinging his way. He jumps back and begins to lift his sword, only to have it kicked out of his hands. He recognizes the man by his shaggy, blonde hair hidden under his hat and the brown leather gloves fitted to his hands. The cowboy smiles as the blade soars into the air and lands a dozen feet away. Neither man moves to retrieve it.

There's a flash of movement and the stranger is on him. His left hand is pinning down Octavius' right bicept, and his right hand is curled into a fist, ready to strike. Octavius turns to his right at the last second, missing the blow and pushing the man off of him. He waists no time in punching the man square in the face and bouncing to his feet.

The cowboy spits out some blood and shoots daggers at Octavius. "You're gonna wish you hadn't done that."

This time, the man doesn't hesitate. He grabs at Octavius and slams his knee up into his gut. When Octavius instinctively bends over, the man returns the punch to the face and once again tackles him. They continue this pattern for awhile; rolling around in the dirt and trading blows, until another cowboy calls out "retreat!" in his western twang.

The man kicks Octavius' gut one last time before extracting himself off the ground. He peers down at Ocatvius and swipes blood from his mouth.

"…Nice left hook," he pants.

"As to you," Octavius wheezes.

Without another word, the man turns to catch up with his men, returning to the Western side of the wall.

Octavius spends the next day going over the previous battle. This isn't uncommon, especially when the war is progressing this slowly. He starts off as he usually does; with drafting new plans and formations while tweaking old ones, but he's soon lost in thought about the one-on-one he had with the stranger. Octavius quickly realizes that he knows nothing about who he's fighting. Not even their leader's name.

"Sergius," he calls, "could you call a meeting with the westerners? I think it's about time we speak."

Sergius hesitates. "What for, my liege?"

Octavius is taken aback by from the questioning of his orders, but responds none the less. "I want to know more about them. How can we fight a war when we don't know the enemy?"

"We don't need to know our enemy, Octavius. We just need to know how they fight. And that's what we're learning through these battles. They've been elusive so far, but we'll learn they're tactics soon enough."

Octavius frowns. "I battled hand to hand with their leader yesterday, and I don't even know his name."

Sergius sighs and sets down the drills he had been reviewing. "I don't think diplomacy is in order right now. If you truly want to know more of these barbarians, then we should send out a spy, not call for a meeting."

"…Alright, fine. I'll take your advice."

"Then it's settled. We'll call for the advisers later."

Octavius goes back to planning and thinks of how this would never happen back in Rome.

Once the advisers are called, they quickly agree on a spy and the Senate passes it through, all in the span of one night. They call Nerva forward, a loyal foot soldier who knows how to be covert, and tells him his mission. They wait until the next night before sending him off.

It's an extremely difficult mission–it's no easy task to blend in with such strange people–but Octavius can do nothing more than wait. There are no drills today, so he spends a couple hours about in the city. He eats lunch with a few of the more friendly senators, then joins them in the bath house to talk politics. He's still restless after all this, but Nerva is still not back. Finally, he calls for the rope to be lowered.

His men give him odd looks–no one just goes for a stroll out in the museum–but do as he says. He's stopped, however, by Plinius marching himself over to see whats going on.

"You can't leave now! What is Nerva comes back? You'll alert these barbarians that somethings up!"

"I'm going for a walk, Plinius, not storming the enemy. Rome can handle a half an hour without me." He audibly sighs and continues helping the soldiers with the rope.

"Not if they discover the you-know-what!"

Octavius stops what he's doing and turns to meet Plinius. "Nerva is a more than capable man for the job, and you know this. He's been out for only 3 or 4 hours which is no time to worry about. My mind will not change on this matter, I need the walk to clear my head."

Plinius grumbles, but stops arguing. Octavius picks up the rope once again and jumps over the edge.

Once his men see that he's down safety, they return to their posts and give him some privacy. Octavius turns to the Western exhibit, but no one has watched him climb down. Reassured that he's alone, Octavius begins walking.

He's planning on heading back out into the open main room, but as he gets closer and closer he can hear the usual commotion rise up. He pauses, and decides to head in the opposite direction. He treks down the hallway for a bit until he stops once again. Continuing down this route will just lead him to new and unknown territory. Octavius was looking for peace and quiet, not danger and exploration. Perhaps another day.

Instead, Octavius decides just to hide under one of the wooden benches for a bit. He'll stay just for awhile; long enough to clear his head and wait out for the return of Nerva. He slips under the shadow of the nearest bench, only to find that it's already occupied. Of course it is.

And of course its not another roman, or a miniature from down the hallway. It's not even an average cowboy. No, of course it has to be the leader, the one whose name he doesn't even know.

"Oh. Uh…" he starts.

"Ah geez, of course it's you comin' round here interuptin' my time," the cowboy sighs. "Listen, I ain't in the mood for another brawl, so if we could just go our separate ways, I'd really appreciate–"

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with you just earlier. It's probably for the best I found you here."

The man eyes him suspiciously for a moment before he shrugs his shoulders. "Well shoot, whacha want?"

Octavius sits beside him. "Well, I don't know your name, for starters."

He blinks at that. "You're telling me you've been coming into our land, fighting us every damn chance you get, and you don't even know my name?"

"You've been fighting back all this time, and you don't know mine." Octavius counters.

"…Well, touche, I guess. The names Jedediah Smith; the one and only. Might've heard of me. Somethin' of an explorer–or so they tell me. And what about you, partner?"

"I'm Gaius Octavius, general of Rome. You might have heard of me. I've been quite successfull in many of my campaigns."

"Up until you messed with us, you mean."

"I do not! We're doing quite well!"

"Y'all are just fightin' the fight now. Nothin's coming of this crazy scuffle!"

"It's only the beginning! We're just learning your tactics before we truly strike. You haven't even seen a fraction of the force of my men."

"Yeah right, Octopus–"

"Octavius!"

"–if I've seen anything, it's a loosing army and a desperate general. Ain't no 'glory of Rome' comin' our way, that's for su–" He's cut off as Octavius surges forward and tackles him back onto the ground.

Believe it or not, Octavius is not usually a very violent person. Of course he's a general, and a soldier before that, but that was for the protection and advancement of Rome. On most days, he wouldn't out right attack a person unless his life was in danger. This has more to do with his pride being hurt than his physical well-being, but it's been a pretty stressful day for Octavius–give him a break.

Besides, Jedediah is more than capable of handling his own. This becomes pretty apparent after he quickly reverses their positions. Now restraining Octavius from above, Jedediah peers down at him. "Listen, I meant it when I said that I wasn't in a fightin' mood, so you can quit right now before you get your ass handed to ya'."

Octavius swallows and does not resist. "Why were you down here, anyways?" he asks.

Jedediah searches his face for a moment. "Same reason you are, I'm guessin'." He doesn't seem to notice that he's still perched atop of Octavius.

Jedediah's still watching him as he licks his lips with the intention to respond before–

"Jedediah!" calls out a westerner from above. "Jedediah!"

The man in question rolls off of Octavius and out from under the bench.

"What?!"

"We've found a roman spy!"

Jedediah whips around to shoot daggers at Octavius.

"Um… if it's any consolation; I initially opposed sending a spy." This, if anything, angers Jedediah more.

"Keep 'im captured!" he calls up. "I've got another one comin' on up!"

"Oh no. That's not–"

"Listen here, kemosabe, pow-wow time is over. This is a war we're fightin', and I'm declaring you as my prisoner."

"I'm a roman general! You can't just 'declare' me as your prisoner!"

"Too late."

Octavius jumps to his feet as Jedediah stalks toward him. He reaches for the hilt of his sword, only to find that it's missing. He curses himself for leaving up in Rome.

By the time he looks back up, Jedediah is on him. The cowboy sends an uppercut to his jaw and grabs his arm. But Octavius is not going down with out a fight. He recovers as quickly as he can and rams his elbow back into Jedediah's face. He's free for just a moment before he's once again dragged back. This time, Jedediah as produced rope from god knows where, and bounds his wrists together. "Don't make this too hard on yourself, now."

"I demand you unhand me!"

"Not happening, partner." He hoists Octavius over his shoulder and restrains his legs with both arms. "This is no different than capturing a hog. You're just more squirmy s'all."

"As soon as my men realize what you've done, your city will be burned to the ground and you'll be sold as a slave."

"From what I've seen so far, I'm kinda doubtin' that."