"Where we heading, foxy?"
Steely eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Do not mock me, woman."
A feminine snicker.
Esmaralda. The ex-courier let the name flit through her mind. Obviously, it was a Latin name. She spoke very little Latin, given she wasn't raised in the Legion by their morals.
"Hey, fox face, seriously— where to?"
"I will not hesitate to string you up on a cross."
"No you won't."
She was right. He wouldn't. Mars damn her.
The fair haired woman bounced along beside him, short legs struggling to keep pace with Vulpes as he strode along with no regard for her. It didn't bother her that she nearly had to jog to remain at his side. But at his side wasn't simply good enough. No, she had to be slightly ahead of him, just by couple paces or so. The simple act of dominance irritated Vulpes. Obviously, the woman didn't know her place.
His hard eyes roamed her figure from his peripheral vision, noting the remarkable machete that hung from her belt. It didn't differ in appearance from any other machete, but that didn't make it ordinary. The blade was often heavily used, as could be told by the chips in the blade's edge. However, upon closer inspection, one could see the careful way the aged weapon had been cared for by a doting owner. Designs were carved into the hilt of the blade, a detailed depiction of a bull engraved with master precision. Surely, the precious weapon had to have been a gift.
"We're going to the arena? Oh, that's nice. Slaves fighting today?"
"Not exactly."
A blonde brow raised.
"Then what?"
The metal walls of the arena blocked the sun from the eastern area of the sky. Legionaries filled the seats, the occasional slave filing in behind their master.
"Lucius has been challenged."
Esmeralda nodded apprehensively. She followed closely behind Vulpes, sauntering through the milling crowd of red clad soldiers. Surprisingly enough, when the ex-courier looked up, a Prime Legionary was holding back a scarlet curtain for her. Given that Vulpes was nowhere in sight, it could be assumed he'd disappeared behind the curtain as well. Esmaralda flashed a demure smile and brushed past the Legionary with a murmured phrase of Latin thanks.
The deep colored curtain fluttered shut in her wake, blocking out some of the harsh Mojave sun. Sharp green eyes darted around the private room, noting everything down to the number of freckles sprinkled across a boy-Legionary's cheeks. A number of officials from the meeting prior were present in the lavish room. Some loitered in small clusters, conversing quietly, while others sat on regal sofas sipping wine.
Vulpes sat reclined beside an acquaintance of his, Cato, speaking in Latin. Whatever the fox said clearly amused the Frumentarius. No doubt, it was probably a mocking comment about Esmaralda herself, or paranoia was getting the best of her. She remained standing not too far from the doorway until a lounging Centurion looked her way.
"Courier," he called, beckoning her over with a nod of his head. She nodded in return, closing the distance and sinking down into the elegant sofa beside the man.
"Good to see you, Silus. I don't believe I've seen neither hide nor tail of you since McCarran."
Esmaralda gratefully accepted a chalice of red wine that was offered by a timid slave girl, nodding her thanks to the lowly girl as she scurried away. The blonde slowly swirled the wine in the goblet, drawing air into the thick beverage.
"Pleasant surprise to see you as well. I've been flushing out nearby NCR bases with some of my men. Caesar gave me a new responsibility I returned."
The dark haired Centurion lolled his head in the direction of the young boy shifting from foot to foot nearby.
"Apparently, the boy's a prodigy. I wouldn't know, given how quiet he is."
"Don't judge a book by its cover, Silus. The ones who talk less think more. Explains why you're never quiet."
Silus glowered half-heartedly at the smirking blonde. She brought the rim of the battered chalice to her lips, filling her mouth with a small sip of wine, and washing the bitter liquid down her throat. Her gaze landed on the bright eyed child, who was watching the ring with intrigued green eyes. She studied his profile. His shoulders were squared and his head held high.
The kid was barely ranked higher than the pair of slaves in the corner, but he didn't seem to acknowledge that. The fight hadn't even begun yet, but the boy still stared with the utmost curiosity. Esmaralda hummed as she took another sip of the delectable wine in her cup. Legion kids were interesting. They were either meek as mice or too big for their boots.
"How long has it been since Lucius was challenged as lead Praetorian?"
Silus hummed and squinted at Otho, who was parading around the ring, egging on the spectators.
"Thirteen years."
Esmaralda whistled.
"Why now?"
"A fresh face to the Praetorian guard thinks Lucius isn't capable of protecting Caesar anymore."
"Do you think Lucius is capable of protecting Caesar?"
"Caesar has remained unharmed for thirteen years, has he not?"
"Good point."
The chatter in the private room continued as Lucius walked into the arena, head held high. His eyes roamed the crowd, noting the cheering faces. Esmaralda watched as he rolled his shoulders. He appeared stressed. It was a given, considering he hadn't been challenged for his position since he received.
Also emerging from the heavy gate of the arena was a younger Legionary, hair spiked atop his head. He walked with an air of flippancy and nonchalance. He carried his machete thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, disregarding the hisses that followed him. Uneasiness nipped at Esmaralda's stomach lining. Vulpes caught her troubled expression and smirked mockingly.
"Is the Courier feeling sentimental over Lucius?"
Jade eyes hardened, darting towards Vulpes.
"Unlike you, Inculta, he's what we call a good man."
The Frumentarius scoffed, resuming his conversation in Latin tongues with Cato. Esmaralda turned her gaze back to the window that offered a prime view of the arena. However, the view was partially blocked by the young Legionary boy that was leaning over the window, eyes trained on Lucius. Draining the rest of her cup, she tossed it lightly to the slave in the corner, who fumbled the goblet once before she secured her grip around the metal object.
Esmaralda pushed up from the sofa, dusting imaginary dirt from her armored kilt. The motion was too feminine, irritating Vulpes. The blonde sauntered towards the large window, leaning her forearms on the railing and sticking her head out into the faint, dry Mojave breeze. The boy looked up at her, expression stony, but amusement gleaming in his eyes.
"I've always wanted to fight in the arena," Esmaralda sighed, wistfully watching as Lucius and the younger Praetorian—Mencius, as Otho had announced him—circled each other like the predators they were. The young boy watched with narrowed eyes as the spiky haired Praetorian jumped towards the elder, making him in turn jump back.
Mencius was playing a game. He wasn't taking this serious at all. Esmaralda watched in disgust as the young male grinned like some sort of animal taking delight in teasing Lucius. The elder did not lose his composure, however, which made Esmaralda beam. Lucius was a kind man—tough and callous—but a kind man nonetheless. He didn't deserve such ridicule from his subordinate.
Suddenly, Lucius attacked. Mencius hadn't been expecting it. The younger faltered, falling to a knee in the dusty arena. Machete gleaming in Lucius' hand, he swiftly hacked at Mencius' unprotected left hand. The young man yelped as Lucius cleanly sliced off the dominant hand of his opponent. The severed appendage and weapon plopped into the dust unceremoniously.
Glancing down to the boy beside her, Esmaralda's lips twitched into a smirk at the sight of the boy marveling down at the scene in the arena. His eyes were a familiar shade of green with very familiar qualities. Sharp, intense, and calculating. Those eyes seemed aged far beyond that of his few years. She nudged the boy with her elbow.
"Interesting, huh?"
"Hn."
The brunette boy hummed, eyes glued to the fight. Mencius scrambled back from Lucius in the dirt, holding his stump protectively to his chest. Futile was his attempt to escape Lucius, who was closing in on the junior Praetorian. The elder stomped on his chest, pinning him to the ground. The head Praetorian hissed something down at his subordinate, and in a flash, Mercius' head was rolling.
In an act of finality, Lucius kicked Mencius' decapitated cranium across the arena, earning a surge of roars from the surrounding Legionaries. The Centurions chuckled, returning to their idle banter. Esmaralda turned to the short kid beside her, grinning at the prideful expression on his features. She nudged him with her elbow once more, drawing his attention from the victorious Praetorian.
Two sets of intense green eyes roamed the other's respective owner. Her face was angular and heart shaped, while his was small and round with baby fat. The tousled locks upon the Courier's head were pale wheat, while the boy-Legionary's were short cropped curls of mahogany. Silus watched the scene with mild interest, whereas Vulpes noted every last detail.
Never before had the fox seen the Courier take interest in a person for more than a few moments. Something about that boy had to be intriguing, or the Courier would be pestering him again. Maybe the child was a blessing. Anything to keep the blonde wench out of his hair long enough for him to slip away. Tearing his eyes from the display, Vulpes resumed conversation with Cato, who had noticed the time his commander took to study the strange woman in Legion armor.
"Have you fought in the arena?"
Esmaralda raised a brow at the boy. His features remained a stoic mask, portraying not the slightest bit of emotion through the thick exterior. She rolled her shoulders, shaking out the stiff joints. She'd been still for far too long already. Still, the boy looked up at her, awaiting an answer for his question.
"Women aren't allowed to fight in the arena, kiddo. Even you should know that."
"You wear Legion armor."
"True, but that mother fucker Otho refuses to let me step foot in his ring."
The boy nodded silently. Both eyed each other until the boy spoke up again.
"Why do you wear Legion armor?"
"That's a good question. Maybe it's because I support Caesar's ideals."
"Women aren't supposed to wear Legion armor."
"Little boys aren't supposed to play dress up."
Younger green eyes widened in surprise. Esmaralda smirked and ruffled the boy's hair. He brusquely brushed her hand away. The blonde snickered, placing her hands upon her hips. An interesting boy, alright. Most Legion children were either meek as mice or too big for their boots. This particular boy, however, didn't seem to fit in either of those categories. Very interesting indeed.
Silus whistled sharply, drawing the attention of the boy that had peaked Esmaralda's curiosity. The Centurion languidly stood from his seat as the young boy snapped to attention. It was clear from body language that the two absolutely loathed each other. Why Caesar had entrusted a brat to a man like Silus was beyond her. Silus cared for himself and only himself.
The now standing Centurion's eyes met Esmaralda's.
"I'll hope to not see more of you, Courier."
"Whatever, Silus. I'll see you around."
The duo of mentor and student stiffly walked to the scarlet curtain that blocked off the rest of the Legionaries from the private room. Before it could slip her mind, the Courier followed behind the two males, stopping them short before they left the room. Esmaralda caught the boy by the shoulder, the only amount of surprise showing in his glittering eyes.
"Tell me your name, kid."
"Juvenal."
Esmaralda released the boy's shoulder. Silus glowered down at her.
"Courier, you'd do best to not bother my charge."
She snorted.
"Don't be such a dick, Silus. Why, I could almost say you are what you eat."
The young boy watched on with widened eyes as the brutal Centurion in front of him glared at the grinning blonde woman. Never, in the months the boy had known his mentor, had he seen anyone show such mocking and disrespect to him. However, this insolent woman had the gall to tease him about homosexuality?
"Please tell me your name."
"Eh?"
Distracted, Esmaralda looked down at the beaming boy. He was the only barrier between herself and the massive Centurion that seemed to contemplate destroying her at that very moment. A different light shone in her eyes as she dropped to her haunches in a crouch in front of the boy— Juvenal.
"Esmaralda."
Author's Note:
Wow. Thank you guys for the support!
This chapter came out a day or so later than expected, and I'm truly sorry about that! I had to lengthen this one up a bit to introduce our newest character, Juvenal. I promise we'll move on to the main plot soon enough. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and so are favorites!
