Fulliautomatix could feel himself trembling. He could feel the tremor that seemed to bubble up from inside of him, shaking him from his core outward. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, and one he had never really given much thought to in years. Not since he was a child. Children are susceptable to such things, and, in a sense, so were most adults. But he was a Gaul. Not only that, he was a Gaul of the Indomidable village. There had never really been much of a reason for fear before, and now that there was, he found himself feeling rather unprepared to face it. It made him feel sick. He wasn't sure why, exactly. It was a mix of things. The fire had been a shock, and Cacofonix's condition had been an even greater one. Anger intertwined with fear. Fear for his family, fear for the village, and fear for the injured bard. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he decided very quickly that he disliked it strongly. It felt wrong. They were the ones that usually had their enemies shaking in their boots. To have the tables turned was...unsettling. The blacksmith knew that Unhygienix felt the same way.

The two Gauls left Gatafix's hut reluctantly, though they were anxious to check on their families. They had been so wrapped up in the chaos around them that their other concerns had been forced to the back of their minds. But now, with things settling down to a more bearable degree, at least somewhat, their wives and children became their only thought. They hurried alone the winding path that led from Getafix's hut to the village center, images of their loved ones forefrontly in their minds. Once they came into sight of the other Gauls, they quickened their pace, their need for reassurance growing. The villagers noticed their approach and quickly called out. The blacksmith and the fishmonger were practically swarmed as the Gauls hurried to crowd around them, asking questions and shouting concerns. Many asked if Cacofonix was alright, while others asked whether Getafix was preparing a batch of his magic potion so that they could go out and take care of the 'problem' at once. Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix pushed their way through to their families, caring for nothing else until they were within reach. Then, and only then, while exchanging uneasy glances, they turned their attention to the sea of worried faces. So many unanswered questions. Questions with answers they just didn't have. Only they knew how desperate the situation was, and it was a hopelessness they were reluctant to share. With no potion, things were not looking good, and then there was Cacofonix and his condition...

"Cacofonix is...hurt pretty badly," Fulliautomatix said sadly, hugging his wife with one arm while unconsciously finding his two children with the other. His son and daughter looked up at him fearfully, hearing that their teacher was so bad off. While, in any other circumstance, the children might have been glad for the time off from school, in this situation this was not the case. Cacofonix, as a bard, was qualified to teach, and had done so for quite some time. The children were really quite fond of him, as long as he never sang them their lessons.

At the news of the bard's condition, the villagers hung their heads, but the blacksmith knew that their grief would be far greater if they only knew the full extent of the Cacofonix's injuries. If they had seen for themselves what he and Unhygienix had seen. Watched as the true agony of their friend had been so visible. But it was not his place, nor the fishmonger's, to be the carrier of that news. Nor was it their place to tell the town of just how dire their situation really was. Not only did Getafix not have the resources for his medical practices, but he did not have the ingredients for the Magic Potion, and that went without saying. They could tell. And they knew that the druid was due for ingredients, even though he had not said so. But for now, they knew they must keep silent about it, as hard as that might be. The villagers would all know soon enough. Getafix would tell them when and if the need arose. Which Fulliautomatix prayed it wouldn't.

Fulliautomatix's daughter tugged at his apron with her small hand, gazing up at him with the smallest of tears in her eyes. It had been a frightening morning for all of the children, and that fear had not yet left them. Nor the adults. "Will he get better, Daddy?" she asked softly, her mind still on Cacofonix.

Oh Toutatis, he hoped so. "I...I'm not sure, honey." He watched her shoulders droop, the child taking his answer as a bad indication of the situation's true nature. He touched a hand to her chin, gently lifting her head and giving her a tired, but loving smile. "But we can't give up on him, okay?" She nodded, falling forward to hug him around the legs.

Asterix, who had been listening to the blacksmith's words from the back of the worried villagers, frowned as his face became even graver then it already was. Of all the other Gauls, Asterix was the most accustomed to tragedy. As the village warrior, he had witnessed and suffered the consequences of many battles, attacks, and casualties, all of which he had, on most occasions, escaped without a scratch, thanks to the Magic Potion. Though these kinds of things rarely took place in the safety of their home, it was still second nature for him to notice the stressed hesitation in Fulliautomatix's voice. Asterix knew there was more. He knew something wasn't right. But he also knew to keep silent, at least until the women and children were out of earshot. Then he could ask the blacksmith more questions, or Unhygienix. Or even go and visit Getafix himself.

Vitalstatistix opened his mouth to speak from on top of his shield, feeling that, as Chieftain, he needed to console those under his care. But just as he was about to do so another voice, loud and unmistakably non-Gaulish, broke the uneasy silence that had suddenly reigned over them all.

"Ho, there! Gauls! Show yourselves and surrender to the might of glorious Caesar!"

The villagers turned as one to face the towering wall that surrounded their home, from which behind the voice called. They blinked in confusion, before their eyes widened in sudden realization. There was no mistaking that foreign lilt, for anything other than what it was.

Romans.

Fulliautomatix felt his anger grow, now that it had a concrete focus that he could unleash it upon. Up until that moment, he had been filled with so many emotions, all with nothing to direct them at, but now, with a name to the terror that had hurt their friend and attacked their village, Fulliautomatix was nearly steaming with rage. The Romans had done this. Had injured their friend and scarred their village. Those rotten, filthy, no good-

Hurrying, as a colorful stampede, the Gauls raced to the wall parapets to look out over the gates, lining the walls with their curious, and angered faces. At least, the menfolk did. The women and children remained below, at the mens' request, looking up at their husbands and listening nervously, having to guess by hearing what was transpiring beyond their sight. The male populace of the village looked over the side of their only barrier that protected them from the outside world with a sense of caution and vigorous indignation. In all honesty, they might have expected a few archers. A battered legion at best. But, instead, they were greeted by the sight of a large regiment of well armored Roman soldiers, each with a spear in his hand and a sword at his side. The troops stood on the fresh, green grass, looking up at them, with a mix of fear and false ferocity. Unhygienix almost smirked, and might have, if not for what had happened that morning. That took all the humor out of the situation.

One Roman, however, dressed far more elegantly then any of the others, strutted to the front of the lines, unafraid and smiling in a belittling manner. His fat face was beaming with a cruel grin, which showed his large, unflattering mouth full of teeth. He gazed up at them, but, somehow, it felt as though he were looking down at them in contempt. As if their lives were no more significant then a colony of ants. Dirt. Scum. Worthless and unimportant. "Good morning," was his greeting, grinning calmly in a way that made every stomach on the parapet turn with a sickening flutter. The Roman only smiled broader. "I trust our little present didn't wake you this morning?" He glance back at some of his men who, more out of respect than an actual joke, snickered weakly. From the Gaulish walltop there was nothing but silence. Spacious's grin did not falter by their lack of response. In fact, he seemed empowered by it. "Oh, dear," he cooed, voice filled with mock regret. "I am sorry. I do hope no one was hurt."

That was all Fulliautomatix could take. With a growl of rage he leaped forward to the front of the crowded parapet, glaring down at the Roman commander with unconcieled hatred. "Why you-!" He fairly attempted to jump the side of the wall so he could get his hands around that-that maniacs neck! It took both Asterix and Unhygienix to hold him back, both knowing that, should Fulliautomatix try, he might be hurt, or even killed. The blacksmith tried to gather himself, but he could see the anger in Asterix's eyes, as well as the fishmonger's, and he knew they felt as he did, and that was a small comfort. He cast his gaze about him, taking in the wrath on all their faces, finally resting his eyes on Vitalstitistix, who made his way to the front with solumn anger.

The chief looked very shaken, whether from rage or fear no one could tell, though it was probably both. He was not atop his shield, a rather unusual occurrence for him, having decided to stay as close to his fellow villagers as possible. Be one of them, rather than above them. An occurrence that showed just how much everyone had been disturbed by this whole mess. Nothing this morning had been, nor would be, normal. Not in the least.

Vitalstitistix looked down on Spacious with as much contempt as he could muster. Images of all he had seen that morning, the fear, the destruction, the hurt, fed his dislike of this Roman, and gave him the courage to stand firm against such a threat. "What is it you want, Roman?" The last word was spoken with barely contained rage, another abnormality in the Gualish leader.

Spacious rolled his eyes, finding Vitalstitistix's show of force little more than pitiful. He had researched these primitive people well, and he was confident that he could handle them without so much as batting an eye. Spreading his arms wide, he gestured to his regiment behind him with a cool, smooth movement. "Isn't it obvious, Gaul? We have come to accept your surrender."

"We'll never surrender to you OR your wimpy, dress wear'n emperor!" The unmistakable shout came from Geriatrix, the eldest by far in the village, but also the most fiesty. He leaned out over the wall, waving his cane in one hand while he shook his balled fist at the Roman with the other, his body in danger of falling over the other side to the ground below. It took several Gauls to keep him from tumbling over, even more than it had taken to stop Fulliautomatix.

Spacious didn't even grace the old Gaul with a glance. It was as if the insult, which had the other Romans knocking their knees, had gone right over his head, untouching to him despite its focus on the 'great and mighty Caesar'. Instead of rising to the bait, his smile only deepened. "Oh?" he asked innocently. "Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so!" the elderly Gaul fumed, preparing to teach this pompous commander a painful lesson by the end of his cane. The Romans had done things before that had gotten on his nerves, but this was crossing the line. Cacofonix was hurt, and that was something the Romans had never dared to do before. And they were going to be sorry, if Geriatrix had anything to do about it. Again the others stopped the old Gaul from leaping down below, and this time Fulliautomatix helped pull him back.

"Easy there, you old relic," the blacksmith whispered pleadingly, the habit of name calling slipping in through his anxiety. "You'll only get yourself killed!" Geriatrix gave him a withering glance before settling back into place with the others. Reluctant, but complient. For now.

Vitalstitistix cleared his throat, which had gone suddenly very dry. This Roman was too cocky. Too sure of himself. He knew he had them...As though they were already in his grasp, bond and tied to be presented before Caesar. A terrible thought. An uncomfortable feeling had started to knot itself in the chieftain's gut. Dread. A deep dread that he had never experianced before, and had never though he would. Usually, the Romans didn't pose any sort of threat at all. "We have no intention of surrendering, Roman. So I suggest you take your regiment, as well as your cruel 'presents' with you."

Spacious chortled loudly, his enormous girth jiggling with each harsh burst. He wiped a tear from his eye, as though his amusement was more than he could take. "Such brave threats from such poor and weak folk..."

"Weak?!" Vitalstitistix shouted indignantly, with no small hint of insult. "Are you aware, Sir, that we Gauls are known for our tremendous strength?"

Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix visibly flinched at their chieftain's words. The druid's laments of having no potion ringing in their ears, they knew only too well what that would mean for the village. As of the moment, they were without that amazing, tremendous strength upon which they relied so much.

"Ah, and are you aware, Gaul," the commander replied hautingly, "that you lack a certain magic potion?" He watched with satisfaction as he saw the Gauls exchange frightened and confused glances. Two in particular going deathly pale. "I see you have not yet been told." He let out another evil cackle. "Go ahead, find your druid! You will only come to realize that you are without your precious liquid. You are helpless against us! Any opposition you offer...will fail."

Distressed, Asterix finally stepped forward, his stature barely allowing him the ability to see over the parapet wall. He had had enough, since that very morning he had had enough. "Roman!" he called down with an authority that was far larger than his size. "Even if what you say is truth, you have not taken into account two important facts!" He detached the small, green circular canteen from his belt, holding it high so that not only the Romans could see it, but his fellow Gauls as well. "One, I still have magic potion. And two, Obelix here doesn't need potion to give him the strength to send you all back to Caesar with lumps and bruises!"

The Roman soldiers standing behind Spacious gulped visibly, the armor rattling in their quaking fear. One look at Obelix was all they needed to know Asterix wasn't bluffing. Many of them had felt the power behind the large Gaul's punch, and were very reluctant of experiencing it again. But their leader looked unconcerned.

"Ah, yes," Spacious grinned, eyeing the small man with maliced interest. It was an odd look, as though he truly were pleased to view the Gaul, merely for the reason of disliking him. "Asterix, the hero of the Gaulish village! I've heard so much about you. What a pleasure to finally meet you in person!"

"The pleasure," the little warrior replied through clenched teeth, "is all yours."

"Oh, but you see," the commander sniffed, as though bored with it all. "You underestimate me. I have taken you and your fat friend into great consideration. I figured that you would stand in the way of the mighty Caesar's progress. So, I took a slight...precaution."

Asterix felt a sense of cold unease settle within him, even as he asked, "Precaution?"

Spacious eyed him with amusement. "Indeed."

Vitalstitistix felt the dread within him grow as well. After years of leading an entire village, his intuitive skills were sharp, and well-tuned to certain situations. Like when someone was a danger. It wasn't as strong as Asterix's sixth sense, but it served him well when push came to shove. "What...what do you mean?"

"I mean, Gaul," Spacious grinned wickedly, gesturing to his right as two soldiers marched forward, a young woman the Gauls all recognized at once. Their hearts fluttered in fear, eyes widening at the sight before them. "A pretty little precaution named...Panacea."

Once again I apologize for how long it's been since I last posted. College (sigh).

This chapter has been rewritten as of 2/15/2016.