Note from Kanuro5: I am back into my final semester of college and I cannot wait to graduate. Because of my lighter class schedule, I may be updating the story quicker, but I still cannot promise anything. Time will tell.

XX

Hidden Depths

Day 41 of the Campaign

On this cloudy and gloomy day, Proculus, Cassius, and Antonius and a detachment of soldiers were at a Germanian village, under the control of the Pamchoni, a relatively small tribe that funded Cunovindus' army and got nothing in return. The Romans were once again demanding tribute from the Germanian tribe, as they have done in the past five days, but this tribe was more stubborn than Antonius anticipated.

Throughout the negotiations, Antonius had ordered Proculus to keep quiet throughout the discussion and to pay attention; he knew that the elder Julius had a thing about running his mouth too much. But despite Proculus remaining silent throughout this delicate matter, the negotiations were not going anywhere, no matter how many threats Antonius issued.

"Open fucking ears!" Antonius vehemently slurred, while Arminius translated without missing a beat, "You're sovereign demands what is owed."

The Pamchoni leader rolled his eyes and chuckled in a low growl, "You hold no sovereignty over us. Your claim for food and currency are as valid as a fly's claim for life."

Antonius stood from his seat, "Our claim holds more validity than your meagre lives. The tribute extends to every tribe that Rome comes across. If you have not been aware, our army has crushed yours of the Confederation, with our legion here in Germania, our rule is as effective as Rome!"

"This is not Rome. This is not Roman soil, this is the land of the Pamchoni, you count yourselves with fortune that we let you pass."

The laughter of the chieftain and his entourage, slowly infuriated Proculus. He peered at Antonius whose face was bleached of color as he glared menacingly at the chieftain who obviously did not know of the Wrath of Rome. This negotiation was dragging out longer than it should, and everyone knew it, the longer the Romans were there, the more diplomatic momentum they were losing.

Proculus wanted to tell Antonius to calm down and to not threaten them more. After his father talked to him about Power and Strength days ago, Proculus started to think with more clarity and tact. He remembered what the Marcomanni said about the Germanic harvest, it grew worse the more one progressed north, and the Pamchoni were right in the middle. They had less food to give up and more to lose, so threats by Antonius, although true because they could be backed up, were not helping the Romans' situation.

"I shall repeat myself, General Lucius Julius the Mighty of the Legio XXVIII demands the tribute of currency, skins, and food to supplement the soldiers of Rome. If you shall refuse, it shall be interpreted as an act of defiance, and you and your people shall face the dire consequences."

The chieftain just laughed, "Where is this general of yours? If he was a true leader, he would have graced us with his presence instead of presenting himself absent as a phantom, like a coward."

Proculus' eyes shot up like daggers at the impudent shit of a chieftain. No longer feeling his place to be silent, he dug deep down into his core and unleashed a menacing gravelly growl, "He is absent so he does not need to divulge his time with errant fools!"

All eyes fell on Proculus. Antonius grumbled under his breath, astounded that Proculus spoke out of turn. But before he could silence him, the chieftain said, "Who is this little moppet that speaks to me in such regard? You, who has been silent since the beginning and with the bandaged arm of a woman, who are you to speak to me?"

"I am Proculus Julius of the Julii, son of Lucius Julius the Mighty of the Legio XXVIII, descendant of Aeneas, and Son of Venus! I am the Word and Will of my father, and shall be treated as if he was present, and I shall not stand idle as you spit on my father's name!"

"Proculus," Antonius said angrily through his teeth, "Silence tongue and allow me—"

"SIT, DOWN!" Proculus slowly emphasized in a control shout without looking at his Tribune, his eyes were focused on the chieftain. Stunned that he was actually rendered speechless by the son that he considered useless, Antonius sat down, confused how he felt so weak after hearing those two words. Cassius looked on with an equally surprised expression, in that moment of controlled anger, Proculus seemed to be the reincarnation of Lucius Julius himself.

"You are his son?" the chieftain asked, "I see…apologies for my words, but I ponder, why did you not reveal such information when you entered?"

Proculus breathed in and out, and spoke calmly with the utmost seriousness, "I rather not use my father's or my clan's name unless I have to, only a boy would cry and scream for demands but cling to the leg of their father to acquire what they want. Also, I would see if you or you clansmen held the integrity to speak with honor and respect about our leader who is not present, you failed to do so. But do not worry about such error, as my Tribune here insulted you to your face, for which I offer apologies. So we are even by that accord."

Cassius' and Antonius' mouth fell. Antonius thought for a moment he was in a dream. Was this really Proculus? The hedonist, the fool…was he really speaking this eloquently and with maturity? Both men looked at the Pamchoni, and to their surprise, the Germanians were casually nodding in agreement at the wisdom that Proculus spouted. Proculus continued.

"I need to address our demand for tribute from your people. We have collected tribute in the past from other tribes and we have vanished immediately from their lands. If you trade with us, we shall leave you and your tribe alone; you have my word and the word of my father."

"HA! Why should we believe you Romans, you destroyed our armies and killed our kings and encroach on our lands! Why should we turn cheek upon all you have inflicted upon us?"

"Honestly?" Proculus thought on it for a moment, "You cannot…" The tavern fell deathly silent at this surprising answer, even Arminius who translated the message, looked at his Commander sideways, "…We are a conquering people, the entire world knows this. You are right to be wary, but know that your lands are not our concern. We, this entire legion, is here to rescue our kin. The Roman who commands the garrison at Samarobriva, he is the cousin to my wife. He is family. When I first met him a lifetime ago, the only bond that stood between us was discontent. But be that as it may, we are still family. And it is my honor, as is my father's and my wife's, to rescue him from death, no matter the cost. This unfortunately leads us to cross path with your people as a whole, the road we take goes through your lands, but it is necessary. As I gaze upon your sons and daughters as I passed through your village, I know with certainty that if their spouse was taken from your house by your enemies, on your honor and the honor of your children, you would fight tooth and nail to save your family."

Cassius stared in disbelief, as Proculus' speech seemingly melted the arrogant barbarians' hearts and warped them into holding sympathy for the Romans. They looked on with clearer intent to have a meaning discussion instead of a meaningless, fruitless talk.

"You speak well and offer valued likenesses in situations," the chieftain earnestly complimented, at the same time surprised that he complimented a Roman.

"Gratitude, the praise is well received," Proculus smiled, "And I determine that we can come to most profitable conclusion for both of us. You shall be greatly rewarded for your efforts in giving us tribute."

"You offer compromise through honeyed words, while your superior offered the rod. While should I lend ear and food to such opposing requests?"

Proculus smirked, "First, Antonius here is not my superior, he thinks he the bigger man when his cock is shriveled more than an acorn."

The Germanians exploded into a boisterous rapture. Antonius gnashed his teeth and was prepping to elbow the ignorant shit of a Roman next to him. But the hearty sight of laughter in front of him stopped him. For the first time, the Pamchoni looked to be in good spirits because of the joke. Antonius couldn't help but smirk, Proculus planned this. The men of the Julii are truly amazing men.

"Secondly," the elder Julius continued, "As the Word and Will of the general of the strongest Roman legion, my bloodless compromise would carry more weight than my Tribune's could."

"That may be true, but you still have not broken reason in why I should pay tribute to Rome?"

Proculus stared into the chieftain's eyes as he tried to quickly think of a valid reason. It then came to him like a lightning bolt, he spoke dryly, "It must be hard to sustain your lives in these conditions."

"To what do you mean? Break words and speak sense."

"You must have been raided often; I base this assumption off of your village's defenses. You raise palisades to the north and to the east. But curiously, not the south, so why not?" Proculus broke an honest smirk, "I know that to the south, the Marcomanni are below you, and they are relatively peaceful. But to the east of you and the Marcomanni are the warring Lugii and Suebi who engage in viscous wars that spill unto your lands. And to the north are the ravenous Cherusci who have vast lands and fierce warriors, am I correct in the location of these tribes?"

"Yes…you are. They are indeed more inclined to war than my people."

"I figured as much. For their size, they must have raiders cross your borders and abduct your food and people?"

The chieftain bowed his head along with his retainers in a mixture of shame and frustration at the evident truth. "Yes, that happens constantly."

"And with the harvest bountiful for you, and horrible up north for the Cherusci; then they raid more than the other warring tribes, right?"

"Yes they do."

"Please inform me, when was the last raid by the Cherusci?"

"It was…it…" the chieftain sighed with defeat, "…four days ago…"

"Oh…I see, how many tribesmen did you lose?"

The answer was bitter to spit out, "We lost seven."

"Apologies for your misfortune, but you are aware that they shall attack again?"

The chieftain looked up with murderous anger at the thought of the bastards of the Cherusci, "I know."

"But…if this was four days ago, then that means that this had started after Cunovindus died?"

"That is correct."

"And with Cunovindus dead, the Germanic Confederation must be in shambles, so who is the Heir to the Confederation?"

The Pamchoni chieftain eyed his retainers with care, yet looked unsure in how to answer. Cassius could see in his eyes that he knew the answer, but he did not want to say. Cassius leaned in to Proculus discreetly and whispered, "He does not truly know who leads, and it would be common knowledge if it was so."

Proculus nodded thankfully to his bodyguard and spoke up again, "So there is a power vacuum? A few tribes fighting to see who leads?"

The chieftain bowed his head in agreement, "Yes, one of Cunovindus' faults were in his character. He believed himself immortal and powerful, and viewed no man a suitable equal, not even amongst his own tribe. He heard tales of Alexander of Macedonia and how his successor was chosen. To the entire Confederation, Cunovindus said the heir will be, 'To the strongest.' And now, the Cherusci, the Suebi, and the Lugii fight for total control of the Confederation."

Proculus discreetly winked towards Antonius with a low smirk; in which the Tribune discreetly smiled back. The Pamchoni chieftain blundered. Proculus realized that the chieftain broke the third rule of diplomacy that Antonius taught him, 'Never reveal the state you or your people are in.'

Thanks to the chieftain, the Romans now realized that the Germanic Confederation is falling apart to a succession crisis. In their most critical moment when they have to be united together, they are too busy killing each other for supremacy to worry about the Twenty-Eighth Legion.

"And with no Germani king," Proculus continued, "Then I am led to believe that no punishment exists for tribes who attack one another, when they should be united as one?"

"You are correct, that punishment is no longer in effect."

Proculus subtly smirked, "Then that means, the Cherusci, the Suebi, and the Lugii, shall continue to attack each other until one is dominant, correct?"

"Correct."

"Which inevitably means, for a tribe to hold dominance, they need more land than the other tribes, correct?"

"That is correct." The chieftain slumped back, he realized where Proculus was going, they all did. Cassius and Antonius, even Arminius, were fighting back proud, obnoxious smiles as they sensed Proculus about to reel the Pamchoni in for the kill.

"And correct me if I am wrong," Proculus continued speaking in a calm voice, fighting back hard to smile in victory as he utters his last few words, "But with your lands so small, with no army, and with some adequate soil, you and your people are vulnerable to raids, abductions, and ultimately…termination? Am I correct?"

The chieftain remained silent. Proculus continued, "So, such evidence leads us to previous argument that my dear Tribune meant to explain with more clarity. We both need each other. The Marcomanni faced a similar problem, but relied on Rome's strength to act as barrier from their enemies. You can receive the same luxury, if you broker deal with me."

The chieftain spoke coldly, "Your father can guarantee my people's safety?"

Proculus nodded, "As spoken by my Tribune earlier, our legion obliterated your Confederation's army. Any man who believes that he can stand against a tidal wave of Roman steel shall be crushed beneath heel."

"Once we hand over our tribute, you shall protect us from the warring tribes?"

"Yes…but only if you are attacked. If you are the aggressor, then our agreement is null and void; and we shall find out if you were the aggressor. And upon the decision of elected Confederation leader and Germanic King, our agreement of protection shall be nullified as then it shall be your king's responsibility to punish the offenders. I have clearly laid out the terms for our agreement, it is in your benefit to agree to them."

The chieftain eyed the young Roman, hesitant to accept. His people worked hard for their food when the harvest was just adequate, but to lose it all because of raiders he was powerless to stop, made their efforts seem absolutely pointless. He exhaled slowly and rose to his feet, as did his retainers and extended his hand to Proculus. Proculus stood in tandem with a subtle grin on his face and firmly shook the Pamchoni chieftain's hand.

"Rome expresses gratitude for this honorable and wise decision," Proculus said.

"And gratitude for giving us such terms. I also seek to extend apologies, Julius, for this prolonged deception. I did not desire to seem weak in front of our enemies."

"I understand, dear chieftain, but know that Rome cares not for appearance of false strength, compromise is golden and knowing when one is at advantage or not is the true test of strength. Now if you do not mind, have your men prepare our food for travel."

It took around 20 minutes for the men of the Pamchoni to prepare the Roman cart with food, wine, and pelts. Once the cart was filled, Proculus shook hands once more with the chieftain, in which the chieftain gave Proculus his personal pouch of wine. After accepting the wine, the Romans left the Pamchoni without looking back. Once they were far enough away, Cassius and Antonius broke out into a fit of laughter.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Cassius exclaimed, patting Proculus on the back.

"I do not know myself…it just, just felt…it felt natural to me. Some of the things I spoke in the spur of the moment." Proculus smile grew wide, he could feel electricity surge through his body in excitement in what had happen. He had never felt more alive. He never knew he held that form of rhetoric inside of him, it all flowed perfectly, each sentence joining together in sweet fluidity.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hard jab in the side by Antonius. "For what fucking reason do you lift hand against me?!" Proculus reeled in pain.

"Only repaying for the comment about my cock and for silencing me," Antonius pompously replied, "Count yourself fortunate I did not hit you harder."

Proculus chuckled through the pain, "Oh that? Just a simple way to elevate tension in the discussion, and it worked."

"I know it did, it still baffles me." The tribune formed a crooked smile, "I am quite proud that you managed to turn such sour negotiation sweet, and here I stood believing you the fool with the mental thought of a goat!"

Proculus chuckled, "Gratitude for the change of approval."

Yet Antonius' smile grew, "Nope, I still believe you the goat fool."

"Well fuck you too."

In the afternoon in the middle of the Twenty-Eighth's camp, Vitus was out practicing with Cossutius in the use of the shield and the sword, at Cossutius' behalf. The Primus Pilus knew that Vitus would most likely never use the shield in combat when he would attain the rank of general, but it never hurt to be proficient in all forms of fighting. In the midst of their practice, a loud uproar of cheers rang out from the gates of camp and traveled to the middle of camp. Vitus and Cossutius could see through a crowd of legionaries that Proculus and Antonius had return, and their cart was filled to bursting with food.

"The men seem most excited," Proculus grinned at Arminius.

"Of course, marching around in the bitter cold for hours on end and finally receive meat and wine instead of vegetables and grain is always a welcomed sight, Commander." Arminius replied.

"Arminius, before you go, I must give you something…" Proculus reached down in his bag and tossed Arminius the pouch of wine that the chieftain gave him. The Roman-Germanian stared at the pouch in awe.

"Commander, gratitude for this, b-but I cannot accept this, the chieftain gave this to you."

"Yes I am aware…but I am in high spirits and if it wasn't for your clarity in translating, then all of this would have been for naught."

"Commander, are you certain?"

The longer Proculus was looking at the pouch, the more he was reconsidering. So he spoke bluntly, "Arminius, this is one of the most generous things I have done as of late, so please just accept it before I change my mind. And don't let Metellus seize it from you."

The translator smiled and thanked his humble commander before taking his wine to his tent. Proculus got next to the cart and began throwing the food to the hungry crowd of legionaries, before the head cook requisitioned the food. Proculus "thought" he began to understood why Vitus was nice to people. Yes, it felt good to be generous, but Proculus realized that unlike Vitus who was generally nice for the sake of kindness, being generous to the men would ensure trust and loyalty which he could use later. That's at least what he was led to believe behind his father's talk of Power.

At the thought of the legionaries, his mind sprang to the Thracian Auxilia who most likely needed the food as well. Although Proculus may have given an uncaring attitude from time to time, he wasn't ungrateful. He knew the relationship between the legionaries and the Auxilia, he knew that if the food was handed to the Roman cooks, the Thracians would receive a meagre share. So in a token of thanks for Oroles teaching him to fight and for the Thracians protecting his brother throughout the campaign, Proculus took the remaining food to the Auxilia. Antonius reminded him to hurry up and to come see his father immediately once he was done.

"Quite a haul they managed to attain," Cossutius said to Vitus while still focusing on the spectacle, "Would you not agree, Commander?"

Vitus softly scoffed, "They have been blessed with great fortune to get much needed food. Come, Cossutius, let us return to training."

The senior centurion turned his head and could hear some bitterness in Vitus' voice, "Are you alright, Commander?"

"I am fine. And would you refrain from the 'Commander' if you will? We are to be family once this is over, start calling me Vitus."

"With all respect, although we shall be family, you are still superior, and I must address you as such, especially in front of the men."

Vitus shrugged, "If that is fine with you, then do so." Vitus didn't really care what Cossutius called him, he just wanted to move the topic along. Every time he saw Proculus return back to camp to cheerful applause and with food in hand, a small part of him contorted with contempt. How come Proculus was going out and procuring food, with a wounded arm at that, while he remained in camp with nothing to do but train with either Cossutius or Oroles. But upon thinking about the reason for his exclusion, Vitus just grew angrier.

A few days ago after Lucius and Proculus returned from seizing the food of the Marcomanni, Vitus approached his father and wanted to know the real reason why he was excluded from the mission, instead of believing that he looked too young to accompany his father. To his bitter surprise, Lucius explained to his son that he was excluded as punishment for denying Spolia Opima. Vitus couldn't comprehend why his father was bringing up this trivial matter as punishment, until Lucius revealed his intent.

"In life, my son, a simple refusal of laurels can lead to the gravest error. By denying a divine message from the gods; you unknowingly insulted me, your clan, and even the gods, who fit to bestow you with such a luscious gift few Romans ever received. Do not gaze upon me with your eyes so cross, this is only bracing you for the shit that you will consume later in life with the Senate. Sometimes, you will have to take what you do not want; it is a sign of power. Yet, if you refuse such embracing laurels, you will be designated as "weak" and swept away into obscurity.

"Do you know how the Julii came to seize the island of Sardinia? Less than a century ago, when the island was in rebel hands, the Senate sent orders for Aulus Scipio to seize the rebel island. But Aulus lacked the numbers to launch such a daring attack on the greater rebel army; so that is when my great-uncle, Vopiscus Julius, offered to use his own coin to fund Aulus' army, at the cost that he accompanied the army into battle. With this private army of mercenaries bought, Aulus and Vopiscus went into battle and defeated the rebels. Then, the ultimate decision came of whether to occupy, enslave, or slaughter. To sack the city would bring vast amounts of wealth to the generals and for the Senate, but the fool Aulus saw no need to sack the city and chose to occupy. However, Vopiscus saw the opportunity that presented itself and ordered the army to sack the city against Aulus' command. The decision brought riches to Vopiscus and exhumed the relic of a golden wolf from the First Samnite War. This priceless artifact was then given to the Senate, who were so enthralled with it that they awarded the laurels of victory and the territory of Sardinia to Vopiscus and the Julii. Aulus was furious at the betrayal and fought for rightful claim since he was the First General of the army, but since the mercenaries were paid for with Julii coin, the army swore allegiance to the Julii and Aulus was left standing the fool with his cock in his hand."

The moral of the story? Never allow for an opportunity to slip through your fingers, or another shall take it. Vitus chose to ignore it at the time, irritated beyond words that his father was still holding the mistake over his head. But now as he watched his opportunity for valued experience slip away, his father's morals were slowly beginning to make sense.

"Um…Cossutius?" Vitus asked.

"Yes?"

Vitus scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "I cannot form the proper words but…for you as a soldier of the Republic…um, if you had a chance to take advantage of a moment in battle and you failed to act upon it, what form of punishment would befall on you?"

"That depends upon the action. But punishment would be meted out immediately for failure to turn the tide of battle. A Roman must do what he can to ensure that not a single advantage slips away, or be destroyed by his indolence."

"So…even when a soldier loses the opportunity and it is gone forever, there still exists…a way for him to regain his honor? What I come to mean is that, um, what would he have to do be redeemed in his superior's eyes?"

"Firstly, if such golden moment escapes him, then he can never fully regain his honor. But what honor he can still redeem, he must do all he can in battle, use all his effort, all his strength, to regain the semblance of honor he once lost."

Vitus nodded softly, he knew what he had to do. He thanked Cossutius for the training and for the advice and ran off to talk to his triumphant brother.

"That should be enough for your men." Proculus said with a smirk, handing over the remaining food to Oroles. Oroles nodded with approval and ordered his men to distribute the food amongst the Auxilia camp. Oroles sought to know how Proculus gained the food, in which the Roman happily told the story.

"That is indeed quite a feat," the bearded Thracian said with an approving nod as he snacked on a loaf of bread.

"Oroles, you should have seen me, I was marvelous…it was like, I was my father who brokered expert speech."

"Maybe me and a few of my men can accompany you next time? To see you 'marvel' in your oratory prowess."

"That sounds like a great idea, if we come across another tribe to take food from, I would welcome you by my side."

"As I would welcome you back to training with me and your brother during night camp, you haven't been present in the following days," he said sternly with a raised brow.

"Forgive me, I just have been exhausted with marching into the den of the lions on a near daily basis in the past week. But I still train with you when the legion rest for breaks in the march."

"Your training requires consistency, it shall be the only way to better yourself."

"Gratitude, I shall remember that."

Proculus grabbed a pouch of wine he took off the cart with his good arm and offered it to Oroles. The Thracian shook his head, "Apologies, but I cannot, wine does not agree with me."

"What are you, a measly virgin girl?" Proculus teased, "Drink up!"

"Alas I should not. I can taste wine…but I become a nasty drunkard if more than three drops fall on my tongue. It is not a pretty sight."

The Roman shrugged, "Okay, more for me," and downed the pouch with ferocity.

"How is that arm of yours?"

Proculus moved his left arm in his sling with some adequate movement, "I can move it in more angles and the pain has lessened considerably. The medicus says within one week or more my arm shall be renewed."

"Such news lifts heart."

"I agree…Oroles, what was the worse wound you received in battle?"

Oroles unleashed a humorous chuckle as he thought back, "Eleven years ago against the Gauls, I was still a naïve warrior and I let my guard down against a barbarian who stood three heads taller than you. His sword carved against my armor on my stomach and opened my stomach up like a fish. I fell to the ground and cried in bloody agony. Before the barbarian ended me, Ligadis came out of nowhere and ran the Gaul through with a spear to the skull and saved my life. I nearly bled out before Ligadis carried me back to the medicus. I suffered from high fever for two weeks and was bedridden for two more. I couldn't eat solid food for a month until my stomach healed. I still have that scar."

"Wow…but that neck wound you suffered with the arrow in it? That wasn't the worse?"

"That wound would be second, it was annoying, but the stomach was excruciating. Every time my stomach roared from hunger, I felt like I was being flayed inside out."

Proculus bit down on his lips, trying not to envision the pain, "Hold a moment, you said eleven years ago? How old are you?"

"I am in my 40th year."

The young Roman's eyes shot open, this man looked to be barely older than he was. Oroles laughed at his reaction. "I know, I am a graceful ager, your brother held the same reaction when I told him."

"Forty? Wow, it amazes me how spry you remain…do you have a woman?"

"No…do you?"

"Yes," Proculus exhaled and looked at the sky, "Her name is Appia Maxentius of the Julii. Beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and very caring."

"How did you two meet?"

"It was arranged by my father and her father, who happens to be one of the Consuls of the Senate at the moment. When his daughter came of age four years ago, her father scoured the Republic to seek appropriate groom, he landed on my father because he had the best legion in the Republic. It was a worthy investment on her father's part. So I first met her three years ago, and I expected this portly and mucky woman, but I was blessed to receive Venus incarnate herself. And naturally," Proculus smiled conceitedly, "She fell for my physical grace shortly after."

Oroles cracked a heartfelt smile, "It lifts heart to see you happy with your wife. Do you have children?"

Proculus broke into laughter, "No, I am not ready to be a father yet, she wants children, so do my parents, but I know I am not ready…Oroles, how come a man like you is not tied with a woman."

Oroles lowered his head, and in a voice that held all joy removed, he spoke, "Because I was taken from my homeland of Thracia, thirty years."

Proculus stopped drinking, "Oh…apologies, I did not know…how, what happened?"

Oroles buried his face in his hand and sighed, "My tribe, the Getae, ruled the majority of Thracia, but we were at war with our rival tribe, the Maedi, for centuries. When I was at the tender age of eight, I was playing out in the fields with my younger sister when the Maedi attacked. The raiders moved quickly and abducted me and my sister and bind our hands and led us away. They took us for miles and delivered us in the hands of a Roman general and traded us as slaves…for fucking Roman weapons to use against my tribe."

"This…Roman, do you recall what colors he wore?"

"Yes, he wore green and so did his soldiers."

"The Brutii," Proculus sneered with scorn. "They conquer eastward into the lands of Greece, Macedonia, Dacia, and Thracia."

"Yes it was them. After they chained me and my sister, they brought us to ships and sent us out to Italia. I wondered if my father could mobilize an army fast enough to stop them…"

"Your father controlled the armies?"

"He did, he was the Getae king."

"What!" Proculus twisted his head sideways, "You are royalty? You are a Getae prince?!"

Oroles lowered his head in shame, "I was…"

"Does Vitus know about this?"

"He does not, we have not spoken upon—"

"Brother!" Vitus shouted as he made his way to the two. Oroles chuckled, "Well look at that…"

"Greetings, Oroles. If you do not mind, I desire to speak to my brother." Oroles understood and left the brothers to their conversation, but not before telling Proculus, "Another time…" Proculus nodded.

"Proculus, I am glad you return unscathed," Vitus remarked.

"Gratitude, Vitus. No barbarian can do harm to me!"

Proculus followed Vitus' lowering eyes to his wounded arm. "Except for that one time," Proculus awkwardly stated.

"Anyway, on my way to see you, I overheard Arminius claim that you singlehandedly bargained for the tribute…is that really true?"

"It is indeed, through use of charm and marvelous silver-tongue, I made the Pamchoni chieftain hand over the tribute that Antonius was not able to negotiate for."

"Brother," Vitus slightly tugged on Proculus' good arm, "I would have words on a more…sensitive matter."

Proculus raised a brow but shrugged, "By all means, break words." He smiled mischievously, "Did your balls finally drop?"

"Ever the comedian," Vitus replied with a stern, unamused face, "No, I was wondering if you could perform a favor, in confidence of course, can you speak to Father about allowing me to accompany you in the future?"

The elder brother placed his hand on his younger's head and rustled his hair with a laugh, "You seek to accompany me to see my diplomatic prowess, huh?"

Vitus swatted away the rustling hand, "No! Father denies me to come along, and I believe that I should join for valued experience."

"You dare go against Father? You believe you know better than he?"

"No, that's not what I mean, I—"

"Be calm. I spoke in jest," Proculus replied in a snicker, before turning serious. "If Father thinks you are not ready, than you simply are not ready."

Vitus narrowed his eyes and replied with slyness, "Did Father not say the same words unto you, in terms of not journeying on this campaign? And you joined in the end and you have proven Father wrong. Do you not recall that?"

"Oh, yes, I have forgotten that," he said after thinking back. "I guess you are correct in that regard."

"Exactly, I would seek to remove the stigma that Father holds over me for refusing Spolia Opima. Just coax him into allowing me to come with you, use that silver-tongue that you boast about. Please, do it for your brother."

"Hmm…Alright, I shall mention it to Father, only because you are my brother."

Vitus smiled warmly, "Gratitude, Proculus. I mean it."

Proculus waved to his anxious younger brother and made his way to his father's tent.

As Proculus went through the tent flap, he was immediately greeted by his father, who grabbed him in a tight embrace and picked him up in the air while laughing heartily, yet not knowing that he was crushing his son's bad arm.

"My son! I cannot believe you did this by yourself!" Lucius shouted with joy.

"Father! My arm! My arm!"

Lucius quickly placed Proculus on his feet and brushed him off, "Apologies, I am just swept by emotion of your success! Proculus…" Lucius placed his heavy hands on his son's shoulders and stared into his eyes with pride, "I knew you had it in you. I knew you had that Julii Power! By Jupiter, I knew it!"

Proculus returned his father's kind words with a heavy smile, "How do you know of this? I did not even reveal the news yet."

"Antonius told me of how the negotiation was and how you turned it around with your honeyed words!"

Proculus eyed Antonius, who raised his cup of wine up to Proculus in acknowledgement with a smile. Proculus quickly nodded, assured that his former troubles with the Tribune were over because of his performance today. Lucius walked over to his son and awarded him with a cup of wine, in which he quickly drank and asked for more.

"Father, I must make a plea, if you would listen—"

"In a minute, first I desire to know…how did it feel? To wrap that barbarian goat around your fingers like thread? Tell me how it felt." Lucius asked with a childish smile as he sat at the edge of his seat, eager to hear his son.

Proculus thought for a moment and answered with a smile which bordered on excitement and iniquity, "Addictive. Father…besides coupling with a woman…I never felt more alive! It was as if I was not in my body as I said those words, and seeing his head turn with thoughts upon my words gave me the greatest pleasure. I want to do it again!"

Lucius nodded approvingly, "But I must know, from where did you learn to speak as you did?"

The young Roman grinned, "From you, Father." Lucius erupted in a proud laughter and got up to hug his son once again, finally having a great reason in a long time to fully be proud of his eldest born once more.

"I am most surprised how fast of a learner he was to employ such diplomatic tactics." Antonius remarked.

"HA! I am not," Lucius proudly boasted, "I am brilliant, my wife is brilliant, is it any wonder that my sons are brilliant?"

"Which leads me to previous statement, Father. It was great to speak as such and to have Antonius be a witness to it. And as much as I would desire you to hear my words, I understand why you must not show yourself to the barbarians out of safety. However, if it pleases you, I would request that Vitus accompany me when we visit the next tribe to collect tribute."

Lucius' laughing ceased, but he began to slowly nod, "I see…do you know the reason why I did not allow him to leave the camp?"

"Because he looked too young?" Proculus lied, despite being told the reason by Vitus.

"That played only a small factor in reason. He denied the taking of a laurel in killing that Germanian at Praxus Hill, and as such, I see fit to punish him so he shall be aware that he cannot squander great opportunities."

Proculus nodded understandingly to Lucius, but in the inside of his mind, he was dumbfounded that his own father was this petty in punishing Vitus. He understood Vitus should have taken the honor, but he did not agree that he should be punished for it. "I see the reasoning behind such punishment," Proculus said, "But I see in his eyes the pain of exclusion when we return with cart full of food. And I know he realizes that time is dwindling to experience the taking of "tribute" and so I believe he should join me for his sake in experience."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Why do you believe that he requires experience in this?"

Proculus exhaled and spoke honestly, "I believe Vitus is the future of this legion. As you stated, he holds more knowledge in all things war than I could, I squandered it in my youth and Vitus embraced it in his. He shall need to learn these things I learn. Coming out here against your orders, I thought I could show you that I can be a legion commander. But after today…" he began to smile, "…I can see myself sitting in the Senate debating with the great orators. If Vitus is by my side, then I believe that he shall learn and grow from this. And I know that Vitus has a good heart and it can cloud his judgment on many occasions, but I helped him overcome his struggle with that Gallic village a month ago, and maybe I can help him here."

Lucius' face didn't change. He stared at his somewhat matured son with a stoic expression as if his flesh was made of stone. He then took a drink of wine and said, "Well said, son…if it means that much to you, then I shall allow it. Bring Vitus here and I shall discuss the terms with him."

"Gratitude, Father. That shall lift his spirits."

"He should count himself fortunate that I am in a good mood. The campaign is slowly reaching its conclusion."

"Conclusion? To what do you mean?"

"Our progress shows that we shall reach Samarobriva within 19 days, and because of you, Proculus, we have 17 days' worth of food remaining. Only two days, but I shall not see my legion face the enemy starving. And the last tribe of Germania that we shall come into contact before Samarobriva…are the Cherusci."

Antonius sighed at the mention of the tribe, "They are the farthest tribe up north, with the least amount of food, and apparently, the most violent of the Germanic Confederation, they shall not part with their food in favor," he warned.

"Antonius is not wrong in this," Proculus spoke up, "They raid the southern tribes frequently, this meeting may turn violent. Does not a better way of procuring food exist?"

"If you hold favor with Ceres, then by all means, fall to knee and pray for crops to sprout from the snow," Lucius said, walking over to his map, "If not, then this tribe is our only source of food."

"How long until we cross their lands?" Proculus asked.

"Three days."

Day 44 of the Campaign

On this particularly cold day when the frost lingered on the leaves of the tree branches, and the sun was out in full brightness shining off the frozen sheet of the snow; a dispute was being had in the middle of the forest. There stood three Cherusci hunters who had caught a barbarian from an unknown tribe, trespassing on their lands and had wrongly killed a stag on their ground.

"You foreign bastard! How dare you intrude on our lands and claim our kill!" the lead Cherusci hunter shouted.

"How is this, your kill? Do you not see this spear? I killed it myself," the foreign barbarian argued.

"You fool! It is on our lands, we desperately need the food, we are starving!" an overweight Cherusci hunter shouted.

"From one glance, it looks like you are the singular cause for starvation," the foreigner joked.

The lead hunter pulled his sword and aimed the tip at the foreigner's Adam's apple. The foreigner shot his hands high in the air and said with a nervous chuckle, "I only jest to lighten mood!"

"I shall have your head for insulting my brother!"

"I would greatly advise against this course, Cherusci, you shall not enjoy the consequences."

"Who are you? I have not heard that accent before? You are neither Gaul nor Germanian? Who are you?!"

"If you must know," the foreign barbarian said honestly, "I am Ermanar of the Iceni tribe of the Britons. I am the Captain of the Brittonic Army under King of the Iceni and all of Briton, Lugotorix."

The three Cherusci erupted with hysteria. "Do not fuck with us! You are no Briton!" the lead Cherusci sneered as he pressed the tip deeper into Ermanar's throat.

"I have revealed my name unto you, now you reveal yours to me," Ermanar calmly said.

The Cherusci decided to play along, "My name is Maldox of the Cherusci, son of Malamax."

Ermanar snickered and said, "Well 'Maldox, son of Malamax,' when you greet Taranis in the afterlife, tell him that I warned you."

Maldox pondered the message, but Ermanar snapped his fingers, and several arrows flew from the trees behind Ermanar and pierced the throat of each Cherusci, penetrating the vertebra of two of them which killed them instantly; yet Maldox was still alive and choking on his blood. Ermanar quickly disarmed Maldox and took his blade and watched the insolent Germanian crumble to his knees. He grabbed Maldox's long hair and raised his head up and smiled pleasantly at the gagging Germanian, "I warned you." And in one swift stroke, decapitated Maldox, son of Malamax.

"May the Gods bless your accuracy!" Ermanar called back behind him. Eleven Brittonic warriors, three of them were archers, emerged from the forest behind Ermanar and walked up to their Captain.

"Did you have to antagonize them?" one of the archers asked with a dark laugh.

"It did not fucking matter, they were Germanian cunts," Ermanar said as he spat on one of the corpses. The rest of the Britons gathered around and spat on the corpses as well.

"You scored a great kill from this stag," one of the warriors told Ermanar.

"Enough for us all," he smiled. "Now with haste, Ogrun, skin and preserve the meat and take the pelt; Togodunmus, fetch the horses. We ride shortly; we must finish our King's mission."

The Britons are on the move...

I enjoyed this chapter, Proculus' negotiation was actually based off of one of my friends who is a slacker/pothead who actually got into a very interesting and fact filled debate with a college professor about gender roles in America AND WON. Never underestimate a slacker's intelligence. P.S. The Pamchoni are a fictional Germanic tribe.

I would like to thank everyone who is continually reading this fic. I want you all to note that it is keeping me committed to the story. Truly, thank you all!

-Kanuro5