Note from Kanuro5: Hey everyone! I am pleased to announce that this is the one year anniversary of Invictus! None of this would have been made possible without dedicated support I have received over the years. Thank you guys! Now, we shall start with Act II of Invictus. Enjoy!

XVII

The Oaths of Orcus

The hour was late on Praxus Hill, and the cold chilly air of the night entered the tent of the medicus and brushed off the faces of the wounded men of the legion. The air itself, sharp and fierce, sent shivers up many unconscious spines, but for Vitus Julius, the sheer cold chattered his teeth and woke him from his wounded slumber.

He instinctively grabbed his blanket and covered himself like a cocoon until he stirred too much and fell out of his cot with a thud. The young Roman grumbled as he got to his feet, the entire world was tilting in every which way and he had to use the cot as support just to orient himself upright. He looked around in a daze to gain his bearings, he recognized the wounded men beside him and realized he was inside the medicus' tent, but…why was he there?

He looked down at his arms and saw that they were covered in thick bandages with some residue of blood, stained on his arms. He ran his head from his hair and felt something rough wrapped around his skull, he felt it and recognized that his forehead was bandaged as well. He remembered his battle with the Germanian that wore the armor of Rome, and remembered how many times that the barbarian had wounded him, even splitting the skin of his forehead and unleashing waves of blood.

But Vitus also remembered how he killed the mighty warrior by driving his dagger through his throat, and of course he knew that he wouldn't have gotten that far if it wasn't for Proculus, Oroles, and Cassius.

The groans and soft cries of the wounded echoed throughout the tent, snapping Vitus back to the present. His thoughts spawned to the battle's conclusion. He knew they'd won. He just knew it. His father's legion was invincible and would not fall to any barbarian army. But at what cost was their victory? Did the Thracians make it out okay after their victory over the Germanians?

Vitus quickly grabbed his thick blanket and wrapped it around himself and ventured out of the tent without anyone noticing. The first steps he took outside the tent led him to witness a debauched drinking fest. He observed numerous legionaries who staggered around, filled to the brim with liters of wine in their system; singing, hugging, dancing together in celebration of their victory over the Germanic army.

Vitus stood awestruck at the entire victorious festivity that plagued the entire camp of the 28th Legion. Nearly every legionary held a jug of wine in his hand and were gathered around numerous camp fires, chanting victorious shouts of their accomplishments and sang off-key, yet in a heartwarming display of camaraderie to the favorite tune of Roman legionaries, "Love me, Mother Rome".

"One kiss my lovely sweet,

For we are after a prize tonight

Because we shall march in tomorrow's morn

If the foe won't see us dead next light

Yet if they attack us at night

And press us through the day

We shall strike them down with fury,

So we may return to stay

We may not come at the dawning

And we may not come at noon

But we shall assure you before the sunset

We will rejoin you soon

When the field is thick with dead

And our Gladii brandished high!

We shall shout to the heavens in victory

"To mother Rome, we fly!"

A pleasant smile emerged on Vitus' face. This was the scene of victory. Not just any kind of victory, the victory over a barbaric army with twice the men than the legion. This jubilant celebration was breathtaking to behold, and to be a part of. Everywhere he went, many legionaries called out to Vitus in a drunken stupor, congratulating him for the battle, even when none of them knew what part he personally took in. The men were so enraptured with their victory that they would give a toast to a ladybug for believing it routed 30 Berserkers. This was unfortunate for Vitus, who desperately wanted details on the battle, but every soldier he asked was too drunk to give any helpful details.

"Vitus!" a familiar voice called out.

Vitus turned and saw Proculus running towards Vitus with open arms and smiling with absolute joy.

"You are well!" Proculus said to his brother as he grabbed him in a familial embrace, relieved to see him on his feet already despite hours ago he passed out from blood loss. "I believed you for the afterlife with all the blood you lost."

Vitus smirked with an unexplainable bravado, "Well, the things in this life that does not kill me, makes me stronger."

Proculus roared with laughter and patted his younger brother on the back. "That's what I love to hear! I am glad you are well, brother." Vitus could smell the overbearing stench of wine from Proculus' breath. No doubt that he is already drunk. But the younger brother also noticed that Proculus' left shoulder was completely bandaged and his left arm was in a sling.

"Your arm…it's…"

"Oh this? Oh it stings, but the thrill of wine masks the pain," Proculus drunkenly chuckled. "That Germanic fucker got me good, but my armor ceased any grievous injury that the barbarian could inflict. But you, my little brother, you actually took his life!"

"A feat not possible, if not for your aid and instructions."

"Oh do not be modest with past deeds, you are a skilled warrior, do not forget that."

Proculus' bodyguard, Cassius, finally caught up with Proculus and was carrying two jugs of wine as well. Luckily, for Vitus, he was nowhere near as drunk as Proculus was. Seeing the younger Roman, bandaged but walking, caused the bodyguard to smile.

"Vitus! It lifts heart to see you here with us."

"Gratitude, Cassius. If it was not for you and Proculus, I fear I would have been for the afterlife long ago."

"Your humility knows no bounds. How are you to be a true Roman patrician, if you do not wrest credit for your actions?"

Vitus laughed it off and then quickly went to the question he has been desperately wanting to ask. "So what of the battle? I know that we emerged victorious, but…how many men did we lose."

Cassius explained. "From what I heard, the legion suffered almost a thousand casualties, but the Germanic army was essentially destroyed. Only a handful of men had escaped. Your father performed the brilliant maneuver of the Double Envelopment and trapped the Germanians. I heard that they even fought the Berserkers, 100 of them. They killed them all, and the Mighty Three even killed several by themselves."

"And what of the Germanic king?"

"They said he fled to the forest, wounded by arrow fire, leaving his army to die. Only a handful of Germanians escaped."

"So the Germanians are no longer a threat?"

"They are not, Vitus."

"So with the Germanian army destroyed, and the last Gallic settlement destroyed, then that leaves the Britons as the sole remaining barbarians we must face." Proculus deduced.

"And they are the most mysterious faction," Vitus added.

"Ha! They are barbarian scum and will die like the rest, with Roman steel in their bellies!" Proculus boasted as he wrapped his arm around Vitus.

"Do not fall prey to underestimation, Proculus. From what I hear, the Britons are quite formidable," Cassius warned.

"Yes, and so were the Gauls and Germanians, and bear witness to them now."

Vitus now was ready to ask the most important question, "What of Oroles and his Thracians?"

"Well right after you took the life of the Germanian with the two swords," Proculus spoke up, "The Thracians had just routed the barbarians on the road, and the Germanians did not attack again. After I placed you in the tent for the medicus, I was notified that the Thracians suffered about 100 dead."

The shocking news rattled Vitus. 100 dead? A bitter taste grew in his mouth and his stomach felt like it was churning. He didn't know what was eating him up more; the fact that 100 men had died under his command, or how Oroles lost 100 of his brothers.

"What is going on with the Thracians now? Are they celebrating?"

"They are," Proculus said, "They are having their own celebration, for their valiant defense, Father had given them their own wine to celebrate."

"'Father'…how is he? Is he fine?" the younger Roman asked concernedly.

"Oh he is fine, he is ecstatic about the victory. He did not receive a scratch on him. Right now, he is in his tent forming commendations and awards of valor for the individuals who stood out in the battle. In fact, I told him of what you did and how you killed that Germanian. He was so proud of you that I thought his cheeks would burst."

Hearing such words put a smile on Vitus' face. He could imagine it vividly, his father smiling down on him and congratulating him for making the right tactical decision in leading the Thracians and placing them on the road. He had proven to his father that he could handle the responsibility of command, and would most likely earn more opportunities in the future.

"Broaching the subject," Proculus continued, "Father would most likely want to see you since you are out of bed and are fine."

"In a minute, I would desire to head over to the Auxilia camp and speak with the Thracians."

Proculus understood and with assistance from Cassius, walked with his brother over to the Auxilia camp to see how the Thracians were coping with sustaining heavy losses.

Inside the Auxilia camp, the Thracians were modestly celebrating their victory over the Germanians. They had bested 1,000 barbarians, killing around 500 of them, but lost over one hundred men; the atmosphere was bittersweet, yet it was a celebration none of the less.

As soon as the battle was over, the Thracians quickly took their dead and had them buried with their armor, and placed their swords deep in the ground as grave markers. They solemnly prayed over the graveyard, invoking their gods above to watch over the fallen in the afterlife, and to give the survivors the strength to avenge their deaths.

The Thracians now, were drinking the wine that Lucius ordered them to drink, a move that surprised all the Thracians, especially Oroles; but seeing as how they have done a special job of defending the crucial strongpoint, they needed some kind of reward. The wine wasn't of the finest quality, the warriors of Thrace knew to expect that much, but it was still good enough to celebrate with; they raised toasts to the air to their fallen brethren, drank and sang songs and reminisced about the lives of the fallen.

The genial event was halted however, when both Cassius and Proculus walked into the camp with Vitus behind them. The Thracians smiled and cheered as they gave their finest, professional salute to their Commander who led them bravely in battle. They were elated that his wounds were light and he was walking once more, they closed in on him; patting his back, shaking his hands, and regaling him of their individual feats of glory during the fighting. But there was only one person in the camp that Vitus wanted to speak to.

"Ligadis, where is Oroles?" Vitus asked the Thracian lieutenant.

"His preferable place of solitude, by the far edge of camp. After battle, the man often secludes himself in thought. I would caution to press lightly, but knowing that you are well," Ligadis smiled, "It would raise his spirits."

Vitus thanked Ligadis and with Proculus and Cassius accompanying him, he went to see the Captain. They found him sitting on a large rock with a cup of wine in his hand as he callously stared into the heavenly bodies of stars above him.

"Oroles, turn and look upon what I brought you," Proculus cried out.

The Thracian turned and saw Vitus, the only Roman who actually earned his respect, stood behind covered in bandages; with a jovial smile on his face, Oroles walked towards Vitus with open arms and hugged him.

"It lifts heart to see you on your feet, Vitus. How do you feel?"

"Like Apollo took me for a ride on his chariot, the world slants every now and then and I feel a bit nauseous, but I yet breathe, so I am not complaining."

"That is good, one must always be thankful for coming out of a battle with their life."

"A feat that I fear would not have come if not for you three," Vitus said with a pained smirk.

"Of what do you speak?" Cassius asked.

"That Germanian, who wielded two swords and was wearing the armor of a Roman," Vitus remembered the imposing barbarian vividly, how his two swords carried death with every swing, and how the man's blue eyes froze the very core of one's soul. "He was excellent in skill of the sword and almost had the opportunity to end my life on several occasions. It was only by the grace of the Gods that I was able to last so long against him."

"Vitus, why are you dwelling on this?" Proculus asked, hooking his arm around his shoulder. "You emerged victorious."

"I did, but only because I had assistance from all of you. Proculus, if you didn't arrive when you did, I would have been for the afterlife. Cassius, you threw spear and fatally wounded the man, allowing me proper chance to kill him. And you Oroles, you came to my protection again and shielded me from the Germanian. I could have never taken that man by myself, yet all of you came together for my wellbeing, and for that I humbly express the utmost gratitude."

Proculus chuckled heartily, the wine making his head feel light as air. He patted Vitus on the back, "Oh brother, always constantly humble, even to a fault. You prevailed through skill, but I was glad to come to assistance."

Cassius smiled. "How would I continue to yet draw breath if your father knew that I failed to protect his other son?"

Oroles walked up close to Vitus and rustled his wavy, red hair with his large calloused hands and smiled. "Vitus, know that I will always protect you. Which lends me to gaze on your previous statement, you fought well against the Germanian, but absent our assistance and a little longer in combat, he would have killed you." Oroles turned his eyes towards Proculus, "The same message goes to you."

"Well, apologies if we are not masterfully skilled in war," Proculus slurred.

"That shall soon change," the Thracian reassured, "I shall train you both in individual fighting whenever the legion stops to set camp. With my experience, I shall forge you into invincible warriors that no man will beat in single combat. Yet, I will do so if you allow me." Vitus did not even hesitate.

"It would be a great honor, Oroles."

Proculus eyed his wounded shoulder and his arm resting in a sling. He knew the gods had blessed him beyond luck to only escape with this wound against an enemy of that Germanian's caliber. If he wanted to last longer in battle, and get closer in surpassing Vitus in fighting, the training would be necessary.

"I accept your terms, Oroles."

Oroles smiled at the two Romans. "But be wary, I will not be easy on you, just because you are Lucius Julius' sons, I will be teaching you to defend your life against all who oppose you."

"Such thoughts are great for the ear, yet I must impose," Cassius interrupted, "Proculus, didn't your father seekto inquire of Vitus' condition?"

Proculus nearly spat out his wine as he recalled his father's command, "Gratitude for the reminder. Come Vitus, Father would want to see you in person."

"As you say." Vitus turned to Oroles with a grateful smile, "Gratitude, for all your help."

Oroles smiled back and watched the Romans leave his camp.

After a key battle is won for the Legio XXVIII, the first thing that Lucius does is return to his bed and sleep, rejuvenating his exhausted mind for the continuation of the campaign. Lucius had taken an hour nap to cure himself of any remaining stress. And after he had awoken, he would proceed to pray to the gods of total war for his victory, then he would commence with the commending of the legionaries who were "heroes" during the battle. One-by-one, Lucius had requested to see several key individuals to alert them on the decorations that they shall receive upon completion of the campaign; which had included several standard legionaries, two centurions, and the Mighty Three. The last one he wanted to review was his Primus Pilus, Caeso Cossutius.

The senior centurion entered the luxurious tent in military fashion with his helmet at his side and stood at attention, saluting Lucius, who was sitting at his table, writing in his ledger.

"Primus Pilus Cossutius, reporting as ordered," the man saluted.

"Ah, Cossutius, do come in," Lucius warmly invited the centurion, "Do you desire some wine?"

"None, General; I can easily fetch some wine from the men," Cossutius politely declined.

Lucius shook his head and snickered, "I do not speak of that common swill, I speak of rich Falernian wine that I have aged for 17 years."

"Well…how could I refuse such a charitable offering?" Cossutius said, not wanting to offend Lucius who was offering high valued wine. He grabbed a cup and drank the sweet nectar.

"This is some fine wine, General."

"I sure hope it is, I have aged it since our fight at the banks of the Calor ."

"General, I am under the impression that I am not just solely here to drink from your wine, am I not?"

"It is a great honor to drink the General's wine, but there is another reason I have called you forth. First, how are you feeling? Are you well? That Berserker slammed you pretty hard."

At the very mention of the body slam that he endured, the muscles in Cossutius' back and neck constricted in irritating pain. "I am well, barely feel it now."

Lucius chortled, "You are pushing 46 are you not? And yet you can endure physical punishment on the level of a recruit? Cossutius, you are truly one of a kind."

"Gratitude for your praise, General."

"Tell me, your services expire the coming spring and you are set to retire, are you not?"

"I am, General. Three months, two weeks, and four days left."

Lucius rose from his seat in a hearty laugh and sipped on his precious wine, "Keeping score of each passing day? Did the Twenty-Eighth really seem so tiresome?"

The grizzled centurion's face turned to offended horror, "No, General! I would never believe such a thing! The Twenty-Eighth is my home, the men, my brothers and sons, and you…my father, General."

"I only jest, good Cossutius," Lucius said whilst still chuckling, "I know where your heart lies. You have served me faithfully for many years; and by extension, served the House of the Julii."

"You honor me, General."

"No, you honor yourself in deed and action. And I would see such spirit greet newest command."

Cossutius' brow furrowed in confusion, "I…I do not understand, General."

"I offer terms, Cossutius. Simple terms, yet of grand import that will change your life and that of your family's forever. As I have stated, you have been a faithful soldier under the banner of the Twenty-Eighth Legion and an invaluable Primus Pilus, an inspirational standard that all of the men hold in high regard. But I believe you are destined to be more than that, which is why I am enacting the edict for you to become "The Man of the Hour." I, Lucius Julius the Mighty, Heir to the Julii, would formally adopt you, Caeso Cossutius, into the Clan of the Julii."

"'A-A-Adopt?'" the stunned centurion repeated.

"Of course adoption will not come over night," Lucius continued, moving towards his desk and ruffling through his papers, "All cases of adoption into my clan are reviewed and approved by the Julii Leader, but I will write your recommendation in such a way that my brother will be a fool to refuse."

"You offer my name as a candidate? But…but…there are surely others who deserve this honor more than I?"

"I can think of no one else that I will wholeheartedly award this opportunity. Especially for what you did today, you leading the men in the holding of their ground against the onslaught of barbarian filths, was truly inspiring and exemplified the virtues of Rome and of the Julii."

Cossutius lowered his head in mild indignity and bit down on his lower lip, "I do not feel that way, General."

"Why not?"

"I failed to stay with the Legion. When the Berserker came at me and rendered me unconscious, I failed my most vital duty in protecting the Legion and had to be carried from the field of battle."

"Oh do not be so grim and do not dwell on past moments; instead, revel in victory that has been had because of your courage and discipline. You are brave, strong, humble, and most of all, competent. The exact traits that we need to bolster the character of my clan."

"But…I have no talent for politics…"

Lucius unleashed a soft cackle, "Neither does half of my family, and yet they are Governors in their own cities. You shall be fine. And if politics shall not suit you, then you can be assigned simply as a General to command your own legion."

"So…if I do accept the position, who would fill my rank as Primus Pilus?"

"After what was seen today, I would assign Gaius Aelianus of the First Century, First Cohort as your replacement."

Cossutius nodded in agreement, "Aelianus would have also been my choice, General."

"I am glad you approve, so does this mean that you accept my offer? I am not assigning you to this course; you may accept or refuse on your own volition. The choice is yours."

Small beads of sweat ran down the back of Cossutius' neck. This was the offer of a lifetime. A chance to be elevated from middle plebeian status to the highest of patricians, over the course of a few days. No financial troubles when he retires, a better life, a better estate secured than his measly home in Caralis on the isle of Sardinia. All of it sounded greatly appealing, but, what about his family? He promised his wife that once he was finished with his service, he would retire quietly with her in Caralis along with their three children. Would she feel comfortable with life as a patrician? Especially within the Julii family? The Julii had many enemies, would this decision put his own family in danger? He looked up to Lucius, who was standing there patiently, calmly waiting for a response.

"…I am deeply honored by your recommendation, General, truly I am honored. But…" he struggled to find the words, "I…well—I do not…General, this is a monumental decision, and…with the utmost respect and permission, may I have time to think upon your request?"

"By all means, take your time. I shall give you…three days to think the choice that I have presented before you. I hope you choose the right answer. That shall be all, Cossutius."

"Gratitude, General." Cossutius saluted and left the tent, weighing his future heavily in his mind as he left.

As soon as Cossutius left, Proculus and Cassius entered and showed the wounded Vitus before Lucius. Lucius cracked a large smile and ran forth and hugged his youngest son.

"Vitus! Bless the Gods, you are well!"

"Gratitude for your praise, Father."

"To see you on your feet, just mere hours after your injuries is astounding."

"I will not lie, I sort of, snuck out of the tent, while the medicus was preoccupied with other men more wounded than I."

Lucius shook his head, "Poor man, he is probably worried to death over his most important patient vanishing."

"Ah forget the medicus," Proculus intervened, "Vitus is standing and is well."

"He is," Lucius said, "but he should rest. Many a man have fallen when they believed they were well."

"Words of wisdom that I will heed, Father," Vitus said smiling. "But not before I give you my report of the action at the main road."

Lucius smiled proudly and raised his hand, "No need. I have broken words with Proculus and the Thracian, Oroles; and they have told me that you have performed magnificently, especially how you killed the Germanic captain."

Vitus peered out of the corner of his eyes to Proculus, the elder brother simply winked at Vitus and nodded his head, acknowledging the credit that he was given.

"Well, I could not have done it absent my brother, Cassius, and Oroles. They came to my aid."

"So I heard," the father said, turning to Proculus, "So it would seem that Vitus' testimony about your involvement matches with Cassius' and Oroles'."

"Father, what reason would I have to lie?" Proculus shrugged with a mildly conceited smirk. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I shall return to you on such subject later, but Proculus, I must say." Lucius approached his eldest son and placed both hands on his shoulders, and gazed into his son's eyes with warming pride, "I must admit to myself, I thought that you would burden such trip with your presence, but you have saved the life of your younger brother, and acted proactively in his rescue when my mind was preoccupied with the Berserker threat. Proactivity and Concern, the fine qualities of a General, and of a man. Proculus, I was wrong, for thinking you were not ready. You have indeed proven yourself in my eyes. And as such, I will grant you command, but I will still determine a unit that you shall govern. But just know that you have earned it."

"Gratitude, Father," Proculus said, his pride and delight elevating to the heights of the heavens within his soul. He had accomplished what he came here for, to prove to his father that he was not an embarrassment to the name of the Julii, that he was not a hopeless son. And somewhere deep inside Proculus, he knew he had proved this for himself.

"And Cassius," Lucius continued as he faced the bodyguard, "You have not only protected my eldest son, who you swore to defend, but also my youngest as well. You have protected my most cherished possessions in the world and for that, you have my eternal gratitude."

"Gratitude for the honor, General. And know that I will continue to protect them with my life. You have my word," Cassius saluted. "So if I may ask, what is our next task since we have destroyed the Germanians?"

"We continue on our path towards Samarobriva, same as before, to rescue Marcus Maxentius from the hands of the Britons."

"Is it safe to assume that the Germanians shall not be a problem again, through this march?" Vitus asked.

"After a Crushing Defeat?" Lucius sneered with dark enjoyment, "Those boar-fucking savages will not raise another army to oppose us in the near future. I have grinded the Gallic nation beneath my heel and if Segovax still has an army, than its morale and strength are of the inferior stock. Thus leaving the only formidable army left is that of the Britons, led by Lugotorix."

"General, what knowledge do you possess of the Britons?" Cassius asked.

"Very little. Only that they were expelled from the mainland by the Germanians and the Gauls a century ago. I would not even be aware that the Britons were on the mainland if Maxentius did not inform the Senate of the army's size and the name of their king."

Proculus spoke up, "Father, you set the problem as a conundrum. The Britons are of the same barbarous seed as the Gauls and the Germanians, so would they not fall to utilize the same tactics and strategies as the other barbarians?"

"A common misconception about the barbarians. One may believe that just because they are shit-heaving brutes that they fight the same and emphasize the same strategy. That is not to be, the Gauls are mainly swordsman based and possess limited cavalry; the Germanians as you witnessed possessed mostly axemen and pikemen. I do not know what type of men the Britons have, nor their strategy."

"So we shall take the cautious approach then? To be wary of any Brittonic attack?" Vitus offered.

"That will not be necessary."

Proculus squinted his eyes, "Not necessary? But father, we have another barbarian army hiding in the wild like ravenous wolves. Should we not exercise caution?"

Lucius turned his head towards Proculus and looked him in his eyes. "Winter is coming. Meditate on what I have said. The winter, is the worst season for a legion to be fighting in. If I had preference, I would have waited until spring, but the great Praetor of the Senate cannot last that long. And if winter is hazardous for us, then it is hazardous to the barbarians as well. Maxentius' men have a city to stay in to fight the cold, while the Britons do not. Surely, they will fight harder to gain the city. And they will not abandon their siege to attack us; if so, then they shall permit Maxentius to escape and have him at their backs while we are at their front; wasting months of battle. So it would be safe to assume that our road to Samarobriva shall be clear, absent present danger until we reach within 20 miles of the city, then the Britons will have no choice to engage us, and if Maxentius' legions are yet in fighting condition; we shall pin Lugotorix in a two-pronged battle."

By the gods, his father had thought of everything, Proculus had thought with proud reassurance. Proculus said with touching smile, "Father, it amazes me how you seemingly have a plan for everything."

Lucius smiled back confidently, "In war as is in life, one must always be two steps above his opponent."

"Although three steps are even better," Cassius joked.

"So do we mobilize for movement at first light tomorrow?" Vitus inquired

"No, the men are celebrating their heroic victory and will be slow from drink tomorrow. We move out in two days, when morning sickness of the wine has evaporated into the air."

"I understand, Father. May I ask a question? What is to be done about the Auxilia? I am curious to their function in this campaign after they have fought so valiantly."

Vitus stared at his father and recognized his expression twist into slight discontent, "Well, since our mercenary cavalry were wiped out in the battle, I shall have the Auxilia fulfil the role of scouts. After we escape this mountainous terrain, we will enter forested terrain later on and encounter multiple small villages of inferior tribes. A scout network of 200 individuals shall be invaluable."

"Then shall I make a suggestion? We must have retained some of the horses from the mercenary cavalry and probably some from the Germanic cavalry, am I right?"

"Indeed we have, over two hundred, I believe."

"I propose that if the Auxilia should be set to the task of reconnaissance, and speed is of an importance for our campaign at this state, then we should turn the Auxilia into a cavalry unit."

"You would give up our captured horses that could provide good meat and trade, and give them to the Thracians?" Lucius asked in stupefied annoyance.

"The Thracians are all adept in riding mounts; Oroles told me so in days past. And horsemen will be a constant and reliable source of quick reconnaissance, especially in the impending snow. It would provide more benefits if your scouts were actually on horseback."

"You raise solid reasons," Lucius said, before turning to himself to think. "Fine, I shall give the Thracians their horses. I pray to Neptune that they shall not abuse them."

"Gratitude, Father."

"And I am assuming that newly awarded stallions to the Auxilia is a way for you to keep your command over them?" Lucius asked, slyly smirking.

Vitus uncomfortably scratched the back of his head, and chuckled lowly, caught in his attempt to keep his command, "Well…not necessarily—"

Lucius leaned on his desk and stared at his youngest son with an uneasy sigh, contemplating whether he should retain his command. He had indeed proven himself in battle, and even distinguished himself by personally slaying the enemy captain of the flanking force.

Then again, most Commanders would command their own contingent of bodyguards or Equestrian cavalry; but since Lucius was short on Roman cavalry and very few legionaries knew how to properly ride a horse into battle, the Thracians would have to suffice. Yet the only nagging concern that the general had was the loyalty of the Auxilia, they were not particularly reliable with any grave task, but with Vitus in command; they held out against 1,000 barbarians and only endured around 35% casualties. Still, one grievous issue had to be addressed…

"Vitus, do you recall what happened when you scouted during the beginning of the campaign? Can you argue that such actions will not happen again?"

The scar in his chest began to sting softly at the mention of the ambush he survived. Yet Vitus locked eyes with his father's and did not allow it to escape his gaze. "It shall not happen again."

"What gives you assurance?"

"Because I learn from my mistakes. I was careless in a hostile region and I nearly paid for it with valued life. But now, I am aware of all things around me, and I shall not fall before any ambush."

Confidence or arrogance? Lucius could not tell. He didn't believe that Vitus of all people could become arrogant, but surviving a brush with death gives one a false assurance that they are immortal in this life. Regardless of which, Lucius relented, and allowed Vitus to keep his command over the Thracians; knowing full well that he would not hear the end of it from Vitus if he refused, and yet; Lucius knew that he would regret this decision.

With nothing more to tell his sons except to get some rest, he dismissed his boys; but not without telling Vitus one last thing.

"The bodies of the Germanian should yet be on the field by tomorrow. Vitus, can you retrace your hour of glory when you slain the Germanic captain?"

"I believe so, Father."

Lucius smiled. "Good, you deserve the honors of Spolia Opima."

Vitus' eyes grew large at the rarest and prestigious honor in the Roman military being given to him. Spolia Opima, the honor of stripping dead an enemy commander that a Roman commander personally killed in single combat. Such an achievement was so rare that such laurels were only heralded by only three men in the history of Rome; and the very first one was the legend Romulus himself.

The thrill of such a legendary honor being bestowed on him, radiated a smile for the ages on his young face. And yet, his smile quickly turned to an unexpected frown. "Father, this honor is…great news to receive, but truthfully, I did not kill him by myself. I had assistance from Proculus, Cassius, and Oroles. So with heavy heart, I cannot truly accept the honor."

Lucius' and Proculus' jaws dropped. Vitus met the conditions of receiving the rarest honor in Rome, and he declined, over a little assistance he received?

"You must still be dazed from your wounds," Lucius said, still in disbelief at the refusal, "Because I believed you said that you refused?"

Vitus lowered his eyes to the ground, "Father, I cannot accept this honor."

"Do you know what you are saying?! You have the chance to have your name etched in history with Romulus himself!"

"But it was not by myself."

"It matters not. We can say that you had done the deed alone."

"Father! Do you hear yourself? You are willing to compromise the integrity and honor of such laurels just to see me claim it? This is not right!"

"Vitus, you do not understand. Do you know what such titles mean for the Julii? We have already accomplished the impossible throughout our existence, and this shall be one more additional chapter in the annals of the Julii's greatness!"

"Not when it is rooted in a lie! Father, we are better than this! How would such laurels suffice to be proven true? All that exist is the word of Thracians that are of the auxiliary, and the brother who is rooted by blood and his bodyguard that is not even Roman. No man will believe that deed."

Lucius wanted to go off on a tirade. His son was throwing away the greatest honor of his life! Why did he have to be so restrained at times?! Could he not see the glory that would come to the family? But the logic behind finding proof of the deed was truly difficult, with words from a biased brother and contingents of non-Romans were really unappealing, especially to the old crones of the Senate. Lucius cursed loudly and buried his face into his palms. Vitus would not receive the great honor. So with a gesture of disappointment, he motioned for Vitus and Proculus to leave.

Once the brothers left their father's tent, Proculus dismissed Cassius to retire alone; he wanted to be alone with his younger brother.

"Vitus, please indulge me in this?"

"What?"

"How hard is it to ride your horse with that massive stick up your ass?"

Vitus groaned, "Go ahead and break words from your mind."

"Not much words to say, beyond the obvious. You give up legendary laurels over a matter of honor?"

"Yes…I suppose I did."

"Why?"

"Because I did not truly earn it. I…I," Vitus stopped walking and sighed loudly, "I do not feel at ease attaining something that I did not earn."

Proculus scoffed lightly, "Look at our clan, attaining things we have not earned has gotten us this far."

"And I would see it at an end. Are you not tired of our clan achieving success through dubious means?"

Proculus spun Vitus around and stared at him with drunken, yet serious eyes, "Vitus, Roman society is always about dubious business. It is necessary to do whatever is required to be elevated in life. If it was not for such immoral dealings, Father may not have been in the position he was in now. Open your eyes, Vitus! You cannot go throughout your life without dirtying your hands."

"Not me. I will be different."

Proculus smirked with a devilish grin and scratched his head, "'Different?' You shall be placed on a pedestal, to be above all immorality, huh? Fine, I shall accept that for now. I believe that you are still naïve, and you will find as you grow older, that you will have to do a little evil, for the greater good. But in this moment, does you being "different" mean you will not try some of this Falernian wine?" Proculus revealed a pouch of wine and tossed it towards Vitus.

"Wait…isn't this Father's wine?"

"Indeed it is! I snatched it from his desk when he was not aware."

"By the Fates, Proculus, you are aware that he will not be pleased?"

"I understand, but I reasoned that we could drink together, in celebration in coming out alive through the battle."

"But Proculus," Vitus stammered, uncomfortable with the suggestion, "I cannot drink this."

"Of course you can, you are a man and can drink wine."

"B-B-But this is Father's…"

"He was supposed to offer us a cup, but due to, recent events," Proculus could not help but emphasize, "It must have slipped from mind."

"Brother, I am not sure about this…"

Proculus groaned at Vitus' reluctance. This was getting annoying. If Vitus wouldn't succumb to easy brotherly pressure, then he would succumb to guilt. "Little brother, do see my shoulder? Do you see how my arm falls in the sling? This has happened because I fought to save your life. If you do not seek to partake in drink for whatever reason, such is fine. But at the very least, please take a cup in the honor of brotherhood between you and I, for us losing our "virginity" in war and surviving grievous wounds endured for the protection of one another."

Vitus was pretty unsure about this, drinking his father's wine that Proculus stole; but "in the honor of brotherhood", kind of made up for it. If it wasn't for Proculus, Vitus would have been dead on two separate occasions, and Proculus bore the wound to prove it. Vitus had to drink the wine; it would be a great insult to his brother who valiantly protected him.

Vitus hesitantly handled the pouch with discomfort; Vitus remembered vividly his first time tasting wine. He was eleven, and his father had just brought his family to live in the newly conquered Gallic capital, Alesia. Lucius had laid out wine for him and his centurions to enjoy, but Proculus who was about to don the toga virilis and become a man couldn't wait long enough to finally enjoy wine and coerced his brother into stealing a cup for him.

So for thirty minutes, Vitus was spying on the little party for the Roman officers for an opportunity to snatch a cup. And when the centurions left the room, the young Vitus dashed across the room like a rabbit and grabbed the cup and made his way to give his brother the prize. But on his way, the worst case scenario happened, both of his parents were walking around the corner he would have to pass. Thinking fast of a way to get rid of the incriminating evidence, Vitus poured the "bizarre, foul-tasting" wine in his mouth and swallowed and stuck the empty cup inside the back of his robe, instead of simply tossing the wine on the ground—which he would later kick himself for not doing. His throat felt like it was being eaten by the strong liquor and his stomach felt like an inferno. Vitus groaned in agony and started coughing hard and even began to cry from the sheer burning sensation he endured.

His parents walked from the corner and his mother stopped at him, noticing his groaning and crying and asked him what was troubling him. Vitus told them he just felt a little sick and made for his bedchambers. For the next 12 hours, Vitus suffered from a bad stomachache and remained bedridden.

Such thoughts of an unfortunate experience with wine turned the young Roman's stomach, but he would not be deterred from drinking the wine. Proculus gave Vitus the cup and poured the red wine till it nearly ran over. Vitus stared at the thick puddle of wine in his cup and raised it towards his lips.

Vitus drank the wine in controlled gulps. The wine, perfumed with lavender thistles, caressed the pit of his stomach with a burning tongue as its fire rushed to his veins. He remembered the same acidic sensation that he endured five years ago in Alesia, and he also endured the same brutal coughing fit that followed him finishing his cup.

Between each cough he took, he could hear the hearty laughs of his elder brother, congratulating him and patting him on his back. "That is the way to do it, Vitus! You have killed today and now you finally drank wine, you are a man!"

"It…burns…throat…and stomach…" he replied, the only words that could be formed at the time.

"That is how you know it is of the best quality!"

It would take Vitus half a minute to control his coughs and regain himself, he could feel the wine affecting him immediately. For the first time, he felt a peculiar sensation emanating from the back of his eyeballs. He could not describe it, it resembled that of a buzzing of bees. It felt pleasantly good, and his eyes started to feel light. Proculus could see that from Vitus' slight dopey face that he was experiencing his first buzz.

"You are feeling it, huh?" Proculus asked with a proud smile.

"I am…and it feels…good."

"Brother, you have not experienced anything yet."

This moment was great. He and his younger brother sharing wine together, a moment that Proculus honestly thought would never come to pass. However, something stirred inside the elder Roman's heart, something that he had to get off of his chest.

Proculus poured himself a cup and refilled Vitus' cup. "Brother, I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Proculus?"

"Raise your cup in the air, I desire to make a pact with you. I need…to say some things."

Vitus raised his cup in the air and Proculus did the same. He looked Vitus straight in the eye with one of the most unwavering gazes that Vitus had ever witnessed. Vitus actually felt honored by what Proculus was about to say, so much so that he unleashed a goofy smile in anticipation.

"Vitus, my brother…you may be short and thin like bones. And you hold strange eyes that even the Gorgons fear." Vitus' smile slowly began to fade. "You are strong in battle, yet weak like a child in making the hard decisions in life. You have little to no backbone to pick yourself up from the dirt." Vitus began to frown. "And you also have a tendency to suck the cock of our father to be deemed pleasant in his eyes—"

"Is…this supposed to make me feel better?" Vitus asked, disappointed with the entire pact.

"Quiet! I am not through. You piss in a weak arc, and you cannot tell the difference between a cunt and an oyster. The day you lose your virginity may as well be the day that Jupiter vomits gold from the heavens. And your honor bound nature can become so infuriating at times that I want to beat you in the head with a rock—"

Vitus groaned in humiliated embarrassment, "And here I stood believing we were having a heartfelt moment of brotherhood…"

"We are!" Proculus assuredly slurred. "We are Vitus, it is just…just…well…er, well," Proculus suddenly belched out some of the wine and stared at Vitus with perturbed eyes, "Uh…I believe that was all the wine talking. Apologies, brother; allow me to cut to the point."

"If you would kindly."

"But Vitus, through all the things that you are in my eyes, through all the things that we do to one another, through all the fights that we have had in the past and will inevitably have in the future…there is one thing that will never change. We are brothers. And though sometimes I may hate you and abuse you, please know that I will never stop loving you." He extended out his free hand, "You are my younger brother, and I swear to Orcus himself; that I shall pick you up when you fall, I will always love you, and I will always protect you."

Vitus smiled back lovingly, "Proculus, you are a simple brute, an irresponsible child that believes he is a man, and an adulterer, well at least in my eyes, and a mediocre fighter…know that we shall fight in the future; but you are still my brother and I shall never desire for another. And I swear to Orcus, that when you fall or stumble, I shall be behind you to raise you up and set you on the appropriate path. I swear I will always love you, and I shall always protect you, from here to eternity."

The two brothers shook each others' hand firmly and downed their cups of wine with ferocity, forever swearing their loyalty to one another as true brothers. That's when it happened on that cold night. A tiny, light flake of snow descended between the boys, catching their eyes. They peered into the sky and watched as the snowflakes gradually danced from the dark clouds of the heaven and softly planted itself into the ground. The two young Romans laughed to themselves as they experienced the joy of bearing witness to the first snow of the winter.

With the coming of snow, how will it come to affect the campaign?

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