For Pilyarquitect and Filosofieke. You know why.

Asterix wasn't village warrior for nothing.

He stood straight and proud as Obelix and Latraviata took their leave of the village chieftain and his wife, politely refusing all offers of a banquet, explaining the need to leave post-haste to catch up with a theatrical convoy heading for Rome. He noted, dully, how Latraviata was doing all the talking and Obelix stood silent and still beside her. If it were true that he, Asterix, had held Obelix in his unwitting thrall all these years, it appeared to all intents and purposes that his friend was exchanging one type of willing servitude for another. Still, it wasn't his place to object. He would like to, but any objection would seem motivated by jealousy. So he stood, smiling, carrying Dogmatix, as the pair mounted Latraviata's handsome carriage and waved goodbye. The tiny dog had flatly declared where his allegiance lay, refusing to leave Asterix's side.

Asterix couldn't quite hold back his tears as the cart bearing Obelix and Latraviata bounced off down the dirt path leading away from the village. Getafix stood carefully next to him, offering support, but not drawing too much attention to Asterix's breakdown. Asterix wasn't ashamed to cry, but bawling like a baby in the druid's arms while the whole village looked on would be embarrassing, to say the least. So he stood straight and tall and held his head high, and flicked away the tears with his fingertips as fast as they appeared on his cheeks. Dogmatix whined and licked his face; Asterix couldn't pretend he wasn't glad of the support.

His other support, Getafix, stood by his side watching the cart trundle away, a silent, supportive shadow. "Something's not right," his old friend finally said, sotto voce. "This whole thing smells fishy."

Asterix absently stroked Dogmatix's fur. "Well, whatever floats your boat," he muttered, staring blankly at the horizon. What was it Obelix had said? Tired of walking in his shadow. Tired of being treated like a sidekick. How could Asterix have been so blind as to miss something this momentous? He cringed, remembering all the times he'd snapped at Obelix, often in public. Obelix had always given as good as he got, so Asterix had naively assumed that all was forgiven and forgotten. He'd never imagined it had been festering in his friend's psyche for this long…

As soon as the cart was fully out of sight, Asterix retreated, fading out of sight of the villagers. They were all still standing there; some were still waving their handkerchiefs. Fulliautomatix had done his duty and thumped Cacofonix to persuade him not to sing an ode of farewell, while Geriatrix was telling anyone who'd listen about the last Gauls to leave the village, Asterix's and Obelix's own parents. "Inherited a shop in Condatum, he did. No idea he had any long-lost relatives…"

Asterix retreated further, recalling their parents' last visit. "I do wish you had found a nice wife to take care of you before we left you all alone!" Asterix's Mum had sniffled, months ago, as they hugged their final goodbyes.

It seemed positively unreal to think of that visit now. "Oh Mum," he'd laughed as usual, "I don't need a wife." Next to him, saying goodbye to his own parents, Obelix had sniggered, overhearing, then hung his head as his own mother had started up on the selfsame subject.

Asterix's grin had faded as his mother spoke up. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want to come to Condatum with us? You could help your father in his shop…"

Asterix remembered now how scooping up his mother in his arms – the surest way he'd found to shut her up on most subjects – had achieved the additional aim of hiding Asterix's shudder at the mere thought of spending his days as a shopkeeper. He supposed his Dad was all right with it, at his age, and he had his best friend and his wife with him, all with their hearts set on the project – but Asterix had told his dad he'd sooner join the Roman Army than keep a shop. He felt a bittersweet pang at his dad's reaction when he'd said that. "You, Asterix, a legionary? Why, I'll see Obelix join the Roman Army first!"

The bubble of laughter was chased away by a weight like a stone in his chest. Obelix had promised to go and visit his own parents, sometime in the whirlwind of preparations before the couple had left. Left for Condatum, en route to Rome. Obelix was gone. Gone forever. Not only because he wanted to join Latraviata, but because he wanted to stay away from Asterix.

Because Asterix had made him unhappy.

The villagers were beginning to disperse from the tight knot around the big wooden gate, tiny clumps of twos and threes meandering off into the lengthening shadows of the sunset and chattering excitedly. Getafix looped an arm around his young friend's shoulders. He hadn't had a chance to talk with Obelix before the big Gaul had been whisked away, amongst a throng of well-wishers and a rousing speech on the joys of married life from Vitalstatistix. Obelix's bride had run interference pretty effectively, not letting Getafix or Asterix get too close—and that in itself was suspicious.

Still thinking hard, Getafix began to lead Asterix firmly away from the village gate, for it seemed the bereft warrior would be staring into the distance until the moon rose. Bride or no bride, Latraviata was a Roman, sent to the village to spy not all that long ago, and Getafix wasn't all that convinced of the purity of her motives. Asterix ought to have realized it himself, but for the fact that his normally sharp wit was blunted, its owner mooning around like an abandoned puppy, not unlike the dog huddled miserably in his arms, too upset to recognize that something was very, very wrong. The whole thing had happened far too fast, the happy couple gone much too quickly. Too quickly, Getafix realized, for anyone to question it. He wasn't in favour of the xenophobia preached by the likes of Geriatrix, Unhygienix et al., but that was a far cry from saying he approved of the whirlwind romance.

Especially with how broken it had left Asterix. The Gaul trudging along beside him seemed a shadow of his former self. What would drive Obelix to break his best friend's heart like this? The naïve, childlike Gaul was well known for his weakness for a pretty face, but Getafix had never thought he would go this far!

The druid started as Asterix shrugged his arm off. "This is as far as I go." They'd arrived at his hut, though it was still some distance to the druid's.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to spend the night at my hut? I have some apple cider in fresh…" Getafix offered tentatively.

"No, that's all right."

"Are you sure?" Getafix pressed. He didn't quite like to say that Asterix shouldn't be alone tonight.

"Well, I…" Asterix appeared to be thinking it over, but Dogmatix let out a big doggy yawn, and Asterix followed suit. "I think I'll have an early night." He looked up at Getafix, bravely dredging up a smile. "I'll take you up on it tomorrow."

"If you're sure."

"Quite. 'Night, O Druid."

Getafix watched as Asterix dragged himself into his hut, and waited till the door creaked shut. He tried to quell his worry. After all, Asterix did have Obelix's dog with him. Man's best friend, and all that. Dogmatix had turned out a better friend to Asterix than Obelix had been, Getafix caught himself thinking with a touch of bitterness, before he shook himself out of it.

He crossed the small bridge over the stream by his house, taking comfort in the chuckling of the water over the stones. Tomorrow was another day, after all, and perhaps then Getafix could pump Asterix for information over a mug of cider, find out what in the name of all the gods had gotten into Obelix.

Something heavy struck Getafix in the back of the head, and everything went black. -