The next two days came and went with very little excitement. And very little progress. The Gauls only had two more days left. Two more days before they either had to surrender or...or Panacea would die. No one had a clue what to do. They still felt just as trapped as they had when the whole mess started. As the doomsday came closer and closer, they could feel their panic growing. Especially Soporifix. The fatherly Gaul had seemed to age considerably. Dark bags shaded beneath his eyes; a testimony to the long hours of sleepless nights that plagued him. He also seemed incredibly frail and thin.

Of course, everyone was beginning to take on that underfed look. Food was now incredibly low. A few fish were caught then and again, near the back of the village where the wall met the sea. But that was hardly enough to support an entire village. They had resorted to giving what they had to the children. The only exception being Cacofonix and Asterix, who were in desperate need of the nourishment.

Cacofonix was a good deal better than he had been. He was still shaky, and weak, but he was moving about more easily. He even managed to take a short, slow walk outdoors. It was the first time in what felt like ages since he had stepped out into the warm rays of the sun and taken a breath of clear, summer air. He was starting to regain his color back, much to everyone's relief. Even his side was almost completely healed. No scars or burns remained on his skin, which pleased everyone, though it did leave them puzzled at his miraculous recovery.

Asterix was an even greater mystery. He had woken up the night of the same day he had been shot, conscious and fully aware of where he was. He had been in a great deal of pain, but that was to be expected. After all, you didn't just jump out of bed right after being wounded by an arrow. But to everyone's surprise, Asterix began healing at an incredible rate. Even faster than Cacofonix had. The day after the incident, Asterix had actually gotten off his cot, much to Getafix's annoyance. Asterix was able to take a few steps before wearing himself out and returning to bed at the druid's insistence. The little Gaul wasn't completely healed; not by a long shot; but Getafix found himself more and more perplexed by the speed at which the injuries were cured. Without any potion, the rate of their improvement was unheard of; unbelievable even.

But if Getafix had learned anything from living in the small Gaulish village, it was to expect the unbelievable. These people were unique; special. The strangest of the strange always happened to them. The oddest of the odd; the most irregular incidents; and, lately, the most unfortunate of luck. But the druid was a curious man. He didn't like to just sit back and observe, accepting one phenomenon after another. He wanted to know why. Why were the Gauls so quick-healing? There had to be an explanation. All he had to do was find it.

And find it he did.

He observed his two patients closely, running through every possible solution. And only one solution fit. The magic potion. It had to be. Years of ingesting the elixir had somehow gotten into the Gauls' blood. It was the only explanation. The healing power of the mixture must have found its way into the bloodstream, which more than accounted for their remarkable recovery.

At first, Getafix was concerned. He was afraid that the potion may have had some negative effects as well; after all, most potions had side effects, just like many medicines. But his fears were put at rest when he remembered that that particular potion was unique in that it had no such problems. Getafix, many years before, when he was much younger, had worked hard to produce the magic potion so that it would be free of any serious aftereffects. He had even managed to create a version that was nonaddictive. That had turned out to be a very wise precaution. Otherwise the Gauls would all be suffering greatly now, in the throws of the potion's withdrawals. Going without potion was merely a disadvantage, not a obsessive need.

Having the magic potion in their blood was accounting for their fast healing. It was a blessing that had been overlooked for years. None of them had ever gone without the potion for this long a time. And anytime someone had been injured, the potion had always been one of the first pain relievers Getafix had given them. But, at least as far back as the druid could recall, no one had ever been left to heal without the potion; so its permanent effect on them had never been apparent. Now they saw the strength it gave, and how fast and efficient it mended their wounded friends. And it gave them just a little more hope.

But just a little.

...

Anxious stood at attention, guarding the prisoner. At least, that's what it looked like he was doing. Back straight and eyes facing forward; to anyone else he would appear to be completely devoted to his post. But Panacea had learned otherwise. Whenever his fellow guards were out of earshot, the Roman would converse with her in a low tone. Still looking as though he were maintaining his steadfast and properly unfeeling watch, he kept her company and tried to allay her fears.

And her fears were growing. The past few days had gone by in a whirl. She knew they were running out of time. There were only two more days left. And, at the moment, the situation looked hopeless. Depression and intense anxiety gnawed at her soul, leaving her feeling empty and cold.

Especially since Asterix had been shot.

It was the worst thing she could ever have imagined happening. Asterix was almost the very symbol of the village's strength. It's emblem of defiance against Caesar's rule of tyranny. And Spacious had cut him down with an arrow. The coward! Hiding behind his wicked lies! Cringing behind the weapons of his own soldiers while Asterix took the blow; all alone and unprotected! And now Asterix was hurt, maybe even dead...and her last glimmer of hope had faded. If Asterix was down...who could save them?

Anxious was equally conflicted. He had watched in horror as his Commander had given the order to break his truce with Asterix. Oh, there had been a truce. Even if it had never actually been put into words. Spacious had offered the boy back safely. That was an assurance; a promise. Spacious had said so, and a man's word was supposed to be his bond. Any honorable man, that is. But Commander Spacious was no honorable man.

Again the kindly Roman was haunted by images of their first attack on the village. The catapult; the fire. Panacea's scream. The guilt was almost unbearable. And now, added to that guilt, was the knowledge that his Commander had possibly killed another one of the woman's close friends. His Commander. His superior officer. His regiment. His people. It was almost like he himself had shot the arrow that lodged into the small, blond Gaul's back. How could Panacea ever forgive him?...How could his family back home ever forgive him?

But Panacea did forgive him. In fact, she didn't blame him at all in the first place. In her eyes, his participation was strictly duty, and he hadn't even really had a choice. He hadn't fired the arrows or the catapult. In her eyes, he was innocent. He comforted her, talked to her, even when doing so was putting his life on the line. He snuck her food whenever possible, and made sure the other guards kept their distance. If anyone in this horrible place was her friend, it was him.

Panacea shifted slightly in her place sitting in the warm grass. She hated being stuck in one spot for too long, almost as much as Anxious hated keeping her there. Her legs had fallen asleep on more than one occasion, but she really didn't tend to that discomfort much. Her mind was occupied with other problems.

"D-do you think he's alright?"

Her whispered question caught Anxious off guard. Trying to remain as motionless as possible, he whispered back. "Who? Asterix?"

Panacea nodded.

Anxious's eyes filled with sadness. He wanted more than anything to say that he was sure her friend was fine, but somehow, that just didn't seem possible. "He...he was shot in the back...That's pretty serious." Panacea's face darkened, and he felt his heart fill with guilt again. Why couldn't he say anything positive to her?! He was too truthful. That's what it all came down too. He was just too honest. But he knew he couldn't be anything else. He couldn't give her false hopes. Not for them to only be dashed shortly after. And he was almost certain they would be. No one could survive a injury like that. An arrow in the back was very serious. "But you have a druid in your village...Perhaps he can save your friend." There. That was a little more helpful. It wasn't a lie, and it was more encouraging than anything else he could think of at the moment.

Panacea shook her head slowly. He wasn't sure if she was disagreeing, or simply shaking her head in sadness. "I hope so."

Her words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them. They were filled with remorse and grief. Not a spark of her usual brightness remained. It had been knocked out of her. All her optimism was gone. All hope abandoned. And he had no idea how to help. More then anything, he wanted to stop this whole mess. These people didn't deserve what they had done to them. Panacea didn't deserve it. No one did. Why couldn't they just leave them alone? Why did Caesar have to expand his cursed empire?

Anxious blanched inside at his own thoughts. Such beliefs would be considered treachery to Caesar. Betrayal. But, at the moment, Anxious meant every word of it. He wanted to find a way to help Panacea and her friends. Find a way to fix all their problems. He knew what they were doing was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was cruel. It was evil.

So why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he stepping up? Why wasn't he fighting for what he knew was right? He had asked himself the same question over and over the last few days, and he always came up with the same answer.

His family.

If he went against Caesar's orders, he would lose them. His wife, his parents, and any chance of ever having a child of his own. Traitors were dealt with in Rome in a terrible manner. He would be thrown to the lions for sure. And his family would either follow, or be sold into slavery. He...he couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't. He wanted to help...but his fear for those he loved kept him in his place. He couldn't go against Caesar.

"ANXIOUS!"

The familiar bellow reached the pair as Panacea's least favorite guard rounded the corner. He was such a large man, she was actually surprised he didn't scare her more than he did. He often insulted her, and taunted her, making her life generally miserable, but he never touched her. Never. Never laid a hand on her. No one did. In fact, they seamed to shy away from her, as if they were afraid to come in contact with her. Except Anxious, who had touched her shoulder once. She found that odd, but figured that Spacious had probably ordered his men to leave her be. For that, and only that, she was grateful.

The large guard stomped toward them, dwarfing them with his immense height and girth. "You're watch is over," he stated flatly to Anxious, giving Panacea a hateful glare. "Report to the Commander's tent to report."

Anxious nodded nervously, inching away to escape the threatening shadow of his comrade-in-arms. After a moment, he was gone; leaving Panacea with the frowning brute she always got stuck with. He gave her one last glare before taking his place by the fireside; standing straight and menacing, gripping his spear to ward off any possible escapes on her part.

Panacea liked Anxious's company much better.

...

Anxious was feeling...anxious. He did not feel like being in Commander Spacious's presence at the moment. Not with all the guilt and anger he was suppressing. It was so strong, he wondered if anyone else could hear his thoughts. Feel his feelings. An irrational fear that Spacious somehow suspected his treachery, made his knees knock together. He felt transparent. An open book for all to read. It made him pause uneasily just before the closed flap of his Commander's tent.

He mustn't let his anxiety show. He had to keep himself under control. His family's life depended on it. His life depended on it.

Pushing through the tent material, he snapped to attention just inside the door with a crisp, "Reporting, as requested, Sir!" He was actually surprised at how strong his voice sounded, and at how effectively he had executed his Roman salute, hand raising at an upward angle in front of him, palm down. His perfect gesture, however, was lost on the quiet atmosphere of the empty tent. Commander Spacious was not there.

Scratching his head in confusion, Anxious glanced around him, and even behind him, back out through the folds of the canvas, checking to see if the Commander was anywhere in sight. He wasn't.

He must have stepped out to do something, he concluded, returning to his previous position. He would wait, standing at attention, until the Commander returned. That was what he was supposed to do. What he had to do.

As he stood waiting, he let his eyes wonder over the tents furnishings. It was very luxurious compared to his own humble tent. His was practically bare, except the bed roll that he slept on and the armor he wore. This...This was like the home of a god! The warm daylight streamed in through the tent's colorful fabric, giving the whole room a golden, reddish glow. A desk, carved and adorned with all manner of intricate designs, sat on top of multiple woven rugs that lay on the ground, imported from some far off land. Pillows of purple and blue were carefully placed in the corner, by the fancy bed, where the Commander slept. Fruit and other ripe delicacies overflowed from a golden bowl beside the mattress, causing Anxious to suddenly feel very hungry.

A lantern was burning, hanging from a crossbeam on the roof, burning even in the daytime, a credit to Spacious's obvious wealth. Many other marvelous trinkets and baubles hung, sat, or peeked from every corner. It was truly the tent of a rich man.

Anxious gave a sigh, before letting his eyes wander back over to the desk. It was the most uncluttered place in the whole structure. Only a single candle, next to an ink well and feather adorned its surface. That, and an assortment of papers, some blank, others used.

He was about to return his gaze to the fruit bowl, when something caught his eye.

It was a letter, half buried under the other parchments, but even then, Anxious could see the seal that peeked out from beneath the papers. Caesar's seal. Curious, but very cautious, Anxious looked around and behind himself once more, before shifting so that he could see what the letter said. He had to lift the paper on top of it, which he did carefully, not wanting his tampering to be discovered.

It was just as he had thought. It was a latter from their great leader. But something about it struck Anxious as strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something wasn't right about it. And so, taking one last nervous glance toward the tent flaps, he began to read the gracefully written words.

To Commander Spacious, greetings from the house of the illustrious Caesar and his court,

We have considered your request to attack the indomitable Gauls, and it has been decreed by almighty Caesar, that we deny your request. The Gauls have been a problem true, but our leader has deemed their past assistance deserving a temporary truce. It is in the Empire's best interest to stay clear of these savages, until a more appropriate time. For our leader is not a monster. He leads us with divine truth and wisdom.

Your request to abolish the Gauls is currently denied. You will leave them be. As for your weapon you speak of, it is yet to be tested. We advise that it be put on hold. Again, for the best interest of our mighty Empire.

Vale, et nuntium portans bonum,*

Ave, Caesar!

It was signed with a collection of fancy signatures in the bottom right-hand corner, along with Caesar's imperial seal; formalizing the letter to the max. Anxious felt his mind whirl in confusion as the meaning of the words sank in.

Request denied? Refused by Caesar himself? A cold feeling of horror began to crawl up the soldier's chest. This couldn't be right...could it? The commander wouldn't go so far as to...but here was the proof. In his hands he held the sighed word of Caesar himself. It couldn't be anything else. What Spacious was doing had been forbidden by Caesar! The whole attack had been against their leader's word. They were fighting an off-limits battle; laying siege where they had been banned to go! And the soldiers didn't even know it! They were being held to this attack when there was nothing to hold them to! It was illegal! It was treachery! The Commander had lied to them all; tricking them into fighting a war that Caesar himself had denied him!

The mere thought of what the letter entailed made Anxious feel sick. He had been participating in attacking the Gauls, thinking he had no choice, when, in fact, he did have a choice! No one had to stay; no one had to continue! What the Commander was doing was criminal! They could all go home! All Anxious had to do was tell the others...Suddenly his joy was suppressed by a terrible thought.

No one is going to believe this.

Anxious was considered a whimpering coward amongst his own people. In their minds, he was dirt. Even if what he had to say was important; even if they wanted to hear it, they wouldn't believe him. If he stood up against Spacious, he'd be sure to lose. The Commander had a way of controlling his men through fear. Those he couldn't frighten, he bribed. And those he couldn't bribe, were never seen again. He would win. And Anxious's life wouldn't be worth one denarius*.

Suddenly, Anxious heard voices approaching the tent. He quickly set the letter back in its place among the parchments, slightly covered, and hurried back to the center of the room. He barely made it back into position just as Spacious entered the room.

"Ah, good," the Commander thrummed, coming to stand in front of his soldier. "Name?"

"Anxious, Sir." Anxious felt as though his heart was beating so hard the Commander would surely hear it. He wanted to run away. He wanted to figure out what to do. He was following the orders of a madman; he was certain of it! Who else but a lunatic would disobey Caesar? Who else would brutishly attack harmless villagers; men, women, and children? Launch balls of flame at innocent peoples' homes? Threaten a little boy and shoot men in the back?!

"Well," Spacious grinned that same sickening smile that Anxious had seen him direct toward his victims. "Anxious, I want your report on the prisoner."

Anxious raised an eyebrow. Why had the Commander chosen to ask him? He wasn't the only guard who was guarding Panacea. He wasn't even one of the higher ranking officers. Heck, he was just a foot soldier! "Ah, well, sh-she hasn't been much trouble. E-especially since...the other day." He tried to keep his emotions out of his voice. "She's become v-very quiet."

"Hmm. Indeed." Spacious walked over to the bowl of fruit, snatching up a bunch of grapes. He pulled one off, popping it into his mouth carelessly. "Very good." He sent the soldier a dismissive glance. "You may go."

Anxious inwardly sighed in relief. Giving another, less perfect salute, he turned and quickly made his way for the exit. He wanted nothing more than get away from his Commander.

"One more thing."

Oh, no...

Spacious looked him in the eyes, a threatening expression showing in his face. "I have heard reports that you have been...conversing with the prisoner."

Anxious felt his heart stop.

The Commander picked up an apple, studying it evenly. "Not a good move, you know. I distinctly gave the order that you should have as little social contact with that woman as possible. Did I not?"

The smaller Roman swallowed nervously. "Yes, Sir," he breathed, his voice sounding frightened in his own ears.

Spacious gave him a steady glare. "Then I expect my orders to be followed." The eyes narrowed. "Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good." The Commander tossed the apple and Anxious caught it clumsily. "Obey me, Soldier, and you'll live a long, happy life. I reward my friends handsomely. My enemies I crush. See that you remember that."

It was the threat, shrouded in bribery...or maybe the other way around. Anxious was walking on thin ice, and he knew it. If the Commander really knew how much social contact he had been having with the prisoner...he was sure Spacious would kill him then and there. And if the Commander knew he had read the letter...

"Yes, Sir. I-I'll remember."

"Good. Get out."

Anxious left as quickly as his shaking legs permitted. His heart was pounding wildly, and his head was such a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions he felt dizzy and lightheaded. He didn't know what to do!

He headed into the forest, trying to gather his thoughts.

What Spacious was doing was wrong. Not only by Anxious's moral standards, but by law. He couldn't let this continue. But it had to be handled in a way that didn't get him and the Gauls killed. It was time to step forward. He was done with the bloodshed. Done with the guilt. Spacious needed to be stopped. Fear was the only thing holding him back, and Anxious pushed it aside. No. This was it. The final straw. He was going to fight this...but he was going to need help...

Anxious waited until dark, before making his way carefully and undetected toward the Gaulish village.

...

*"Farewell and good tidings"

* An ancient Roman silver coin.