Notes from Kanuro5: I'm amazed that I got through this in only 8 days after the last chapter. Anyway, I have less than 50 days till I graduate college, yet I have a pretty hard class that I need to pass in order to graduate. But I'm not too worried, I will get through this! Anywho, Enjoy!

XXIII

Taking the Arrow

A lovely night was in the air. The usually frost that accompanied the night was substituted for a refreshing warm air that one would associate with summer nights. This brief respite from the stinging cold elated the spirits of the men in the Roman encampment further. After seeing the cart of food delivered from the Cherusci earlier today, they all enjoyed a hearty meal from a starving enemy and sang rowdy songs of the "generosity" of the Germanic people. And incredibly, none were more rowdy that night than the officers of the Twenty-Eighth Legion.

Inside a spacious dining tent, standing large and high, sat the 10 Cohort Commanders around a wooden table, filled with jugs of precious wines, meats, bread, and a few assorted vegetables, and shared with each other memorable tales of past and present exploits. Listening to his centurions humorously ramble on, Lucius sat pleasantly at the middle of the table, enjoying his wine and sharing a laugh; beside him sat Proculus to his left, and Vitus to his right, with Tribune Antonius by Vitus' side, who were in turn laughing to the dinner banter.

"General!" one of the centurions said, gasping for air from laughing, "Do you recall the town in Hispania whence we encountered a tribe of an armed militia consisting of boys under twelve."

Lucius thought back, a smile on his face revealed his source for the answer, "I do. It was Nedetona."

"That is the place!" the centurion gleefully exclaimed before turning to his fellow centurions, "I recall that they were approaching us with sword in hand that was too big for them to wield—"

"And they quaked in front of our men," another centurion interjected, cracking up with laughter, "Yet it was my Third Cohort that was sent to battle with the boys, and when we banged on our shields, the little shits pissed themselves and ran off!"

The centurions howled with laughter, filling the air of the tent with boisterous merriment that can only be experienced by brothers-in-arms.

"Father," Vitus shouted into his father's ear just to be heard, his face a mixture of amusement and curiosity, "Did you command the legion to face youths and boys who took up the sword?"

"Occasionally," Lucius replied, still laughing at the recount of the incident, "Most of the boys turned and fled at the sight of us. They were Spanish boys, the Gauls…their youths were fanatic enough to attack us. But most boys that faced us were too immature to even be seen as a serious threat."

Proculus took a long gulp from his cup of wine; his vision was slowly blurring and the room began to spin, and he unleashed a hoarse chuckle, "I have never seen these men in such high spirits before. They are usually so—grim and…soldierly."

"Why should they not be?" Lucius retorted. "They have come to know that we now have enough food for Samarobriva, the only Germanic threat that could stand in our way is weak, and victory will be short at hand." The father smiled to his two sons, "Because of the two of you. For what you both accomplished earlier today has placed a warm smile on this man's face." The brothers eyed each other from across their father with heartfelt grins.

As the laughter slowly died down, Cossutius pointed at the brothers with an inquisitive smirk and asked them, "Commanders, how did it feel entering the Cherusci village?"

The centurions echoed the Primus Pilus' sentiments and turned their attention to the brothers. Vitus' eyes roamed around the tent, trying to find the right words after being put on the spot. Yet Proculus was able to articulate his tipsy thoughts. "Upon hearing news that the Cherusci were the most feared of the Germanians, I will not bear any falsehood; it was pretty daunting to enter that village of theirs, it felt like entering into the den of lions. Am I correct, Vitus?"

"You are, brother. It was indeed a daunting task to do so; I believed that some blood might have been spilt upon entering. But on closer inspection, the Cherusci were suffering from the winter worse than we anticipated. They had a sizeable force of able men, but were weaker than we believe."

"The real problem was that Cherusci bitch," the elder brother yawned, "She spewed venomous gossip into her father's ear about us, and even mocked us to our faces. I am just saying, today would have been damn easier if that bitch was not present. She was begging for a fight."

Lucius placed his strong hands on the shoulders of his sons, "All that matters is that Fortuna smiled on you both that violence had not erupted. Although…" Lucius turned a disappointed eye to his youngest, "She could not help one of you in keeping your weaponry."

Vitus looked down towards his food and stammered lowly in embarrassment, "I-I uh I do not recall—what really happen. I know she gave me my dagger back, I do not…apologies but I do not know what became of it!"

"Cossutius!" Lucius growled with a smirk, "What is the punishment for a legionary who lost his blade?"

Cossutius chuckled and gave a sympathetic look to Vitus, whom he directed his answer to, "It would be flogging. Twenty lashes for the twenty enemies of Rome he was expected to kill before he himself falls in battle. Then his fellow soldiers in his century would beat him till he was unconscious for endangering their lives with the absence of his weapons." A hard chill crawled up Vitus' spine.

"Would you want such a fate to befall on you?" Lucius asked.

"N-N-Never, father! This shall never happen again!"

The men let out a hardy laugh. Proculus and Antonius joined in as well; Lucius patted Vitus on the back, ensuring that he will not hear his son losing his weapon again.

"To be beaten by your comrades? Such discipline is pretty extreme," Proculus slurred.

"Such is necessary for the greatness of Rome," Antonius simpered.

The Greatness of Rome…do any of them know what it truly is? Lucius shook his head. The answer to Rome and the answer to universe was the understanding of a one-word concept. He expected his men to understand this simple phenomenon, especially his sons now that they had a taste of war. But no. Apparently not, was this idea of his too complicated for everyone else…or was he the only one who could truly see behind the blurred lines of humanity? Regardless, he had to set the facts straight for them.

Lucius banged his wine two times on the table, effectively silencing the entire tent. He sat up straight in his chair and in a prim and controlled voice, asked, "What is this 'Greatness of Rome' that you speak? I want to inquire what you all believe is the greatness of Rome, and I shall reveal my answer and the truth behind it."

Everyone took a moment to think of an appropriate answer. Vitus was the first to voice his opinion, "The Knowledge and Technology of Rome?"

Lucius nodded politely, "Knowledge and Technology? Yes that may be true. Rome has made many innovations. But the same can be said of past civilizations that have now faded from memory and who advanced the world further. Such as the civilization who made the first bronze weapons in history, they surpassed their enemies and conquered all, until they themselves were inevitably conquered by their own technology. And in the prime of the past, long before Rome was a kingdom, Egypt itself held title of superpower across the world, its knowledge of astronomy and sciences unparalleled by any nation of the past. Yet time has been cruel to Egypt and now in present day, the Scippi are on verge of conquering the great nation of Egypt. Rome has had many advances in rhetoric, mathematics, and channeling of water, yet it will not best be remembered for its knowledge or technology."

"Then it has to be the legions and the military might that makes Rome great!" Antonius exclaimed.

Lucius smiled, "A wonderful answer! The might of Rome is indeed in her sword, a sword that has conquered Carthage and established dominance of the Mediterranean and destroyed the Spanish, Gauls, and the Greeks. Rome shall no doubt be remembered for its soldiers who paved the way to victory…yet this is only second to what truly makes Rome great."

"So…what is the greatness of Rome, General?" Cossutius asked. His men echoed the question. Lucius smiled and stated:

"Many a man have claimed me, and great men have fought for me. The gods bless me in the morning and then they curse me in the evening. Men need me, but I do not need men. What am I?"

A riddle. The men began to think of answers, but had a challenging time to decipher the answer.

"Glory?" Proculus asked.

"Good answer, but not correct."

"Life?" a centurion asked.

"No."

"Water?" said another.

"That is not correct."

"Please reveal answer, General."

"I shall, the answer is land. Wars were waged over land. The gods bless land in the beginning of the year with spring and curse it at the end with winter. We need the land for sustenance, yet the land will continue to exist without interaction from Man."

"Land? Father, are you saying that Rome's greatness is measured by property?" Vitus asked.

"Exactly. Property is everything. When all matters are settled, Rome's greatness will be measured in how much land it has covered, how many nations shall submit to us. Why is it that we still study Alexander of Macedonia and his father, Philip II? Because together, they have expanded Macedonia's borders greatly, and under Alexander, he had conquered nearly every piece of the world, yet he had not conquered Rome. Rome itself is on the precipice of expanding eastward, and once we have Egypt, we can eclipse Alexander himself.

"Property. Everything is about property. Every time one asks why we fight? It is about property. Wars are never started to preserve liberty, establish democracy, or end tyranny; it is all about gaining land. About which land has what resource and how one could seize it for themselves. It has been this way in the past and will be so thousands of years in the future when Rome is a distant memory. Think closer on the subject, everything done has been for Rome's expansion, either you have land or you have nothing, simple as that. For what purpose must we as mere mortals constantly require more property than we know what we can do with? Because, we desperately seek to be on par with the gods."

"Father," Vitus finally spoke up in complete awe of his father's lessons, "No man seeks to surpass the gods."

Lucius made an amused grunt, "Not purposely, but deep in the shadows of their hearts, men like Alexander held the glory to create his own Olympus on this fragile soil of dirt we call a world. We are jealous of the gods because they have attained something we mortals never can hope to achieve. The ultimate property, the sky. To have the dominion to stand over all, to have citizens of every tongue look up to them in prayer. To be sheltered away from natural disasters, and never worry about the land refusing to produce crops. And most important, to look down on us like mere ants. We as people forge empires and kingdoms so that we may truly believe we are gods and we tower over all who are inferior. And that is the Greatness of Rome, its lands that will continue to accumulate; and this is also the secret of the world. Everybody wants property, from one extent to another. To win an outnumbered battle, one must do everything possible to gain property that offers high ground or funnels the enemy to reduce his numbers. To keep a vassal nation satisfied, you must take land from a second vassal and give it to the first; if the second vassal complains, threaten reform in which will destroy his lands. To please woman who desires a "change of pace", you must take her to a lovely vacation on the isle of Sardinia. If you are able to barter with property, then you are able to mimic the gods."

Finished with his lecture, Lucius took a drink from his cup of wine and observed the silence in the room. He could see on the faces of his men the realization that they have been granted, the truths behind each fact and opinions, the logic that their superior has given to them as a precious gift, a gift that they refuse to squander. The brothers held a more in-depth realization than the career soldiers could ever understand. Their lives as patricians have and will thoroughly revolve around the politics of the Senate, and the under dealings of the corrupt old senators. But their purpose has now been explained. The Senate never truly cares about the Three Families, just themselves; such is the reason why they sent Maxentius to claim Samarobriva, to have more land to prove their worth to the plebs. The brothers were astounded, their father was once again right, their entire society of humanity revolved around property.

Day 45 of the Campaign

The frost had returned in the morning and nipped bitterly at the extended column of the marching Legion. The hardened soldiers endured the biting wind and trudged stoically through the ankle deep snow. The Twenty-Eighth were finally leaving the first sets of chains of rolling hills and thick forests in Upper Germania, where the heights of the hillcrests and towering oak trees were high enough to blot out the sun. This dense vegetation and rough terrain was the perfect location for ambushes that made the Cherusci so formidable, but after the Julius brothers took their remaining food yesterday, the Cherusci were believed to no longer be a viable threat.

"What is that?" Vitus said, standing erect on his stallion, Romulus, pointing into the sky. His brother and father beside him looked in the general direction and saw a thick pillar of white smoke rising from the east.

"Looks to be the aftermaths of a fire," Lucius decided.

"Agreed, but…is that not where the Cherusci village was?" Proculus asked.

"By Jupiter, I believe it was," Vitus said. "How did we not notice this until now?"

"We camped behind the hill, it must have obscured our vision of the outlays of the fire," Lucius said, "Vitus, Proculus, gather some men and investigate the fire."

The boys saluted their father and ran off and gathered twenty men of the Auxilia scouts, along with Oroles and Ligadis, and broke off from the rest of the column of legionaries.

"That fire is definitely from the Cherusci village," Oroles stated.

"Gods below," Vitus couldn't help but swear, "I hope that woman did not perform any drastic actions because of the tribute."

"She could have, she was unstable in the mind, and I remember from your talks with her, she had vengeance in her eyes and chaos in her thoughts."

"Do not fall prey to worry, Oroles," Proculus reassured, "She shall not act against her father."

"Such were not my concerns," the Thracian replied, "I offer a warning tongue to you two. She has been consumed by hatred and bitterness because of loss, a predator that can hunt and consume anyone. I only offer thoughts that both of you shall remember never to fall into such thoughts of despair and wrath, for it sets tragedy in motion and spirals into destruction."

"Do not fret, Oroles. That shall not befall us," Vitus reassured with a warming smile.

"Agreed," the eldest Roman added on, "We are Romans; we will not fall to base anger such as the barbarians."

"Commanders, we approach the village," Ligadis stated.

The men jumped off their horses and slowly approached the remains of the village. They all stood in disbelief, the Cherusci village of wood and straw that existed not more than 24 hours ago was completely razed to the ground. Only charred outlines of wooden foundations still stood, foul soot stained the pure virginal snow beneath their feet, and the choking stench of burning wood and smoke lingered in the air.

"Wha—What happened here?" Vitus asked, his question not targeted to anyone.

"Where is everyone?" Proculus asked, looking around. "Did they—have they perished in the flames."

"Not likely?" Oroles stated as he acutely examined the burnt village, "Fire does not completely consume bodies. Look around, Commanders. There exists no corpses of man or beast, and no foul odor of burning flesh lingers in the air. No charred weapons or possessions of worth remain. I believe that the Cherusci had escaped from the flames, along with the remainder they owned."

"And you would be most correct in that statement," a voice said from behind a burnt hut in fluent Latin.

The Auxilia quickly pointed their weapons at the origins of the voice, then twelve barbarians sprang out from behind the hut, all of them archers, but only eleven of them with drawn arrows pointed against the Auxilia. The twelfth archer, who was a tall man, came out with a composite bow over his shoulder, whistling a special tune through his teeth, and held a confident smile on his face.

"Men! Surround them!" Ligadis ordered. The Auxilia sprang with their weapons and attempted to encircle them, but the eleven arches shot their arrows directly below the Thracians' feet without wounding them. The Thracians stopped their encirclement as the barbarian archers quickly reloaded.

"I would not move if I was in your boots," the tall man said calmly, his voice matching the one heard from the hut, "I only wish to break words with you."

"Who are you?!" Vitus ordered as he placed his hand on his sword grip, "State your purpose!"

One of the archers drew back on the bow and aimed the deadly missile at Vitus and spoke in broken Latin, "No draw weapon!" he smiled, "My draw faster than is yours."

"And I guarantee that you shall reach the afterlife faster than us if you release that arrow!" Oroles bellowed, his eyes releasing a most murderous glare as he held his pilum like a javelin.

"Easy, Bulox," the apparent leader of the group said in his barbarian tongue, extending his arms in front of the arrow, keeping his eyes on the Romans. He then spoke fluent Latin, "Do you not know who you point your arrow at? Judging by their shiny armor and over-extravagant helmets of the short one and tall one there, I judge they be Romans."

"We are Romans," Proculus stated, his hand already halfway unsheathing his sword, "Now answer my brother's question, who are you? You are no Germanians."

The leader of the archers gave a feigned surprised smile, "Oh, this one is your brother? I always wanted a blood brother, you know? Instead," he pointed back with his thumb, "I am stuck with this soiled lot of savages." The group of archers let out several rowdy whoops and hollers.

"Fall silent and answer fucking question!"

"Apologies, where are my manners?" he said in a smile half-mockingly and half-amused. He took a bow and chuckled, "The one that stands before you is Ardunas. As you can tell," he showed a large, beautifully woven composite bow that hung off his muscular shoulder, "Me and my friends here are archers, and the best in the North."

The brothers looked at each other, contemplating if they should continue speaking with this enigmatic barbarian. Ardunas was a tallish man, broadly made. His arms, especially the muscles in his biceps, were large and strong. Vitus guessed his age somewhere between the late twenties to early thirties. His hair was thick with a dark brown coat that extended to the nape of his neck. He had a soft mouth, somewhat womanish, set in an unhealthy-looking dough-colored face, but when he smiled, it held such a calming effect that it could melt the coldest of hearts. His steel-grey opaque eyes were very much alive, moving ceaselessly between thick bluish lids.

"What is your purpose here? What is your blood?" Proculus demanded.

"I stand Gaul, along with my fellow kinsmen here."

Cassius lowered his weapon, "You are a Gaul?"

"Indeed I am, but for the knowledge of my tribe, I cannot tell you for I do not know. I was only a babe when I became orphaned…why must it matters to you, in fact, you do not resemble the Romans, who are you?"

"I am Cassius, a fellow Gaul by blood."

Ardunas' band began to murmur softly to themselves. Ardunas scratched his head and puckered his brow, "…That so…? What kind of fucking Gallic name is 'Cassius' then?"

Cassius' face turned red, "It is my Roman name selected from my parents! I was born in Roman lands, but both my parents were Gauls!"

Ardunas laughed to himself, "I understand, you are of the pacified stock! Those born under the foot of Rome. This now makes sense."

"That so? What holds meaning behind your name, huh?"

"I am glad you asked," he proudly replied, "I was told that my father named me after the goddess Arduinna of the Hunt. Since birth I was destined to hunt beast and Man. But tell me, what does 'Cassius' mean?"

"Do not insult him in such a manner," Proculus said, "What is your purpose here? Were you the ones who burned the Cherusci village? Where are the Germanians?"

"Oh this was not our work," the archer captain said, picking some remaining food from his yellow teeth, "This fire originated yesterday, and burned bright and fierce into the night. It was not until three hours ago that the flames relinquished its clutch of the village. If you seek the culprits, then you must find the Cherusci."

The men of the Auxilia exchanged questioning glances with each other. Vitus asked, "For what purpose would the Cherusci burn their own village to cinders? Where are they now?"

"Is this a jest?" Ardunas asked, the obvious reason of the event sent humorous vibes to his stomach. But judging from the solemn faces of the Romans and Auxilia, the archer realized they were in fact serious, "Okay…" he sighed, "The Cherusci burned their village so the other tribe would not benefit from their lands. The Cherusci migrated north, you truly did not know of such?"

"No we did not! When?"

"Yesterday around sundown. The miserable bastards most likely fled because their soil had abandoned them and searched for a more ample source of food. I and my men visited this aftermath to scavenge anything useful, since the hunt has not been kind…and that is when you and your men arrived in the village."

"Pause for a moment," Proculus requested, raising his hand in the air, "What do you mean, 'scavenge'…why must you do so? And if you are Gauls, then why stray so far from your people? Wait, do you know a Gaul by the name of Ermanar?"

Ardunas shook his head and asked his men if any of them knew, but no one had ever heard the name. As they spoke amongst themselves, Vitus began to piece the story together. Barbarian Archers…Scavenging…A bad hunt…

"Ardunas, it was you!" Vitus said, holding up an accusatory finger, "You are the brigands that the Cherusci woman spoke about that hunted food on their lands."

A wily smile grew on his face. "You here that, boys? The Cherusci actually spoke of us!" His men let out boisterous cheers. "Allow me to correct you," Ardunas continued, "We are no brigands, we only hunted on their lands to survive because of this blasted winter. We are in fact mercenaries."

"You shabby lot...are mercenaries?" Proculus asked with an incredulous eye.

"That we are!" Ardunas stated proudly with a smirk.

"…Just the twelve of you?" Vitus flatly added.

Ardunas looked behind his shoulders at the group and took note of their size. "We are just starting out," he asserted dully. "Please take note, we are small in number, that is true; but we are fearsome warriors, both in bow and sword."

"Are—Are you offering your services unto us?" Proculus asked.

"Ha-Ha! That is exactly what I am doing." The cocky Gaul walked up to the brothers and extended his hand forth, "Do we have an agreement?" Ligadis extended his pilum to Ardunas' Adam apple, stopping mere centimeters from his flesh.

"Stay where you are and do not approach further," Vitus commanded. "Why join with us?"

Ardunas confidently folded his arms, "Because I value a worthy investment. My roots are here in this winter wasteland, yet I refuse to die in the snow. I was tempted with joining Segovax and his Gauls up north or with Lugotorix and his Britons, but Segovax holds no villages and offers little rewards for service, and I fear that Lugotorix may eventually kill all non-Britons who help him. So my sights fall upon servicing Rome, and here you two come fulfilling my desires. I believe if my men and I stay with you, our possibilities of a longer future are extended greatly."

"This man speaks in clouded riddles," Cassius warned Proculus, "He is too complicated to trust."

Ardunas snickered lowly and shook his head, giving an honest yet devious smile, "Oh no, Cassius. I am not complicated. I am the simplest man you all shall ever meet. All I seek is: Coin, Cunt, and Corpses…preferably in that order. I need the satisfying jingle of coin in my pouch, the warmth of a woman's thighs, and the warm blood of my enemies to spill on the earth as tribute to the Great Teutatis."

"You expect us to lay trust in Gauls who terrorize wherever they strike?" Proculus sneered.

"Such hypocrisy," Ardunas said with a feigned frown and hurt tone, "Do you not trust Cassius or does he stand beside you for more "physical reasons"?"

"This man saved both of our lives from the jaws of death, he has earned his placed." Vitus passionately stated.

"And my men shall do the same within time; allow us to prove our worth to you. Besides, you truly need any warrior you can seize if you hope to vanquish the Britons."

"Why do you say such things?"

"Come now, boy. Do not hide behin—"

"Do not call me, boy." Vitus gravely told Ardunas.

"Apologies, allow me to start over…do not hide behind such audacity. Your Twenty-Eighth Legion is truly fierce and legendary, but you cannot stand against 10,000 Britons in the winter. You shall need all the help you can receive at this point, no matter the size of the amount. Especially if they be archers. Word has traveled like wind about the victory of Praxus Hill, and how your elite archers killed a great many, and even toppled the monstrous Berserker giants! Just as archers saved your legion in the prior battle, we shall aid your legion in the upcoming battle."

The brothers glanced at one another. They could tell in each others eyes that Ardunas' reasoning was sound and he did look impressive enough to make a difference in battle. Yet, they weren't comfortable enough to hire this man for his services, he wasn't as official or presentable as the mercenaries that their father usually hired, but as Ardunas stated, they needed as many men as possible in the coming battle. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Vitus wait here, I shall be back," Proculus ordered, making his way to his horse.

"To where do you go? Are you fetching the General?" Ardunas asked.

"I am. You, Ardunas, are to remain where you are, you will forfeit your weapons before him."

"Understood," the Gaul said, placing his bow and arrows on the soft snow, along with the rest of his men. Proculus nodded to Vitus and galloped away to alert their father. As soon as the elder Roman disappeared, Ardunas heartily shouted to his men.

"Alright lads, look presentable for the General! First impressions are crucial." The men nodded with toothy grins and bent low in the snow and used the frozen powder beneath their feet to wipe their faces of grime, mud, and dry blood.

Oroles came behind Vitus and whispered, "Vitus, I do not trust this man. He is too…odd."

"I agree with his…oddity. But I hold sentiment that he may be of value to us in the unseen future. So does Proculus."

"If he does join us, allow me to keep inspective eye over him."

"Granted."

It took about three minutes before Proculus returned with the Julii Faction Heir, along with half a century of soldiers and his ancillary, Mercenary Captain Titus Publiarnus. Once Lucius arrived he ordered his men to scatter around the village to find anything to scavenge and any signs of the Cherusci.

The Roman General gracefully leaped down from his horse and approached his youngest, "Proculus told me everything on the way. It lifts heart to see that you already encircled them, Vitus," Lucius praised, why keeping his eyes on the tall Gaul that stood before him.

Ardunas took an eyeful of the man who virtually wiped out his entire people, and chuckled with amused contempt, "So you are Lucius? I figured you for a giant…and a younger one at that."

"You refer to him as General!" Publiarnus shouted, "I would hope you would have been aware if you are seeking acceptance as a mercenary to the Twenty-Eighth."

"Apologies then, General."

Lucius kept a solemn face as he slowly approached the Gaul, "You hold interest in joining my legion, correct? Why would I hire 12 archers? What purpose would you serve?"

"Your victory on Praxus Hill relied on archers; imagine if you add more to your ranks. Besides, with our small number, we are able to act as able scouts and skirmishers in battle and seize valuable key points that a larger force would be unable to do so. And most importantly, if you seek to win against the Britons, then you need every man you can find."

"I am impressed, Gaul. You have thought this through."

"Gratitude, General. I am smarter than I appear; hopefully you are as well to not pass up this opportunity in enlisting us."

The Mercenary Captain approached the Gaul with his arm cocked back, ready to knock the impudent man's head off. But Lucius extended his hand without breaking his stare with Ardunas. He was interested in this Gaul's stupidity to challenge him like this, he definitely showed more spine than some other Romans that he knew.

"I see…did you show such manner of "respect" to my sons?"

"Sons?" Ardunas perplexedly asked. He examined the young boy closely and focused in on his face, and jerked his head back at the realization, "By the gods, you have two eyes of different color…and you are the son of Lucius Julius…your name, is it perhaps Vitus of the Julii?"

Vitus' face cringed in confusion, "How do you know my name?"

The Gallic archers began pointing fingers at the young Roman and kept whispering to themselves his names. Ardunas stood there silently and shook his head in disbelief.

"My son asked a great question, how have you come by his name?" the protective father demanded.

Ardunas laughed lowly to himself, "The gods know true humor when they see it." He then directed his voice to the Romans, "Who does not know about the Roman boy, Vitus Julius? Apologies—but you should feel most honored. It is not every day that a man becomes so notorious in less than a day."

"Notorious?" Vitus repeated, "For what have I done to earn notoriety?"

"Do not feign innocence, you know what you did, and I must say it reflects poorly on your father because of your own actions."

Lucius turned to his youngest, tons of questions wrapped on his face, not knowing where to start. Yet Vitus shrugged honestly, truly ignorant of his "notoriety".

Ardunas continued, "You have earned the label of a most dishonorable man from the Germanians for your act."

"Enough of the fucking riddles, you fucking barbarian!" Proculus cursed. "What has Vitus done?!"

Ardunas stared at Vitus dumbfoundedly, "You honestly are not aware?"

"I am not! What happened?" Vitus shouted, his voice cracking as if he was pleading for life.

Ardunas' friend, Bulox, walked behind Ardunas and said, "Ardunas, I believe this Roman really does not know what he did."

"Yes…I am starting to think that too. I think he may have been framed…"

"Answer me! What am I accused of?!" Vitus demanded.

The Gallic mercenary sighed, "Vitus…you have a price on your head, under direct orders of Biua, Chieftain of the Cherusci, for—"

"Chieftain?" Vitus interrupted, "She was the heir, not chieftain. What happened to Ricburgis?"

Now the Gaul was certain that Vitus was innocent, "Yesterday, right after you left with the tribute from the Cherusci, Ricburgis was murdered in his own hut, and Biua discovered that the assassin…was you, Vitus."

All eyes in the area fell onto the young, stagnant Roman, who stood in horror gazing into space, his thoughts recalling the last image of the old Ricburgis shaking his hand as he left the old man's hut. Vitus quickly shook his head and mumbled, "No, no! That is not possible! I did not kill him!" He looked to his father, whose expression was a thorough mixed of confusion and betrayal. He sent his son to negotiate a tribute, not to murder a chieftain in cold blood.

"Father! Please believe me! I did not murder the chieftain! Honest to the Gods I did not perform such a heinous crime."

"Father," Proculus said as he ran behind Lucius, "I was beside him the entire time, Vitus did not murder anybody, he never once committed a violent action!"

"Lucius! I can attest to that as well," Oroles stepped up, "Your son did not lay a hand on the Cherusci chieftain."

"That is correct," Lucius nodded, before turning to Ardunas, "I believe my son, he of all people would never do something so dishonorable as murder a man in his own home!" His face grew red with anger and his fist trembled, "How dare you lay falsehood against my own blood!"

"I speak no falsehood," Ardunas defended, "I only heard claim through a Cherusci messenger."

"Explain."

"Late at night, my men brought me a captured Cherusci messenger who had strayed into our territory. I questioned him thoroughly and he revealed to me that the Cherusci were migrating north; to what purpose, he did not know and I believed his tongue. But he revealed that the chieftain was in fact murdered by a Roman boy, and that Biua sent messengers out to invoke a barbarian honor amongst rival tribes to kill this boy who murdered her father. The description read: a short, thin boy under the age of 18, crimson hair, several scars, and mysterious dual eyes; the left eye green and the right eye blue. His name is Vitus, son of Lucius the Great. The messenger also stipulated a form of reward for any man to bring his head to her. After he spouted the information, I killed him."

"That is madness!" Vitus said, feeling his neck at the thought of his decapitated head. "I have committed no such murder! Why would they suspect such a thing?!"

"I would not know, Roman. But it is from your reaction and ignorance, which I come to believe your innocence." Ardunas smiled eagerly in an attempt to relieve the tension, "Which is a grand relief for I would refuse to serve under a man who kills a man under his own roof after seizing his possessions."

The father and sons looked at Ardunas like a crazed man. Proculus spoke for them, "Are you of fevered mind? You still seek to service our legion?

"Of course, we need to live and our chances are best with you to gain some coin."

"Why? For what purpose would I allow you to be anywhere close to me?" Vitus asked, still distraught from learning of his bounty. "You could just easily take my head and leave for Biua! For what reason would you not kill me?"

Ardunas chuckled easily, "Quite simple really. I take the route filled with common sense over the gaining of meagre coin. Firstly, I already revealed your bounty, so protection will be doubled around you and around me as a new mercenary to the legion. Secondly, attacking the General's son, that will only end in a most painful and inglorious death imaginable. Thirdly, you Romans took everything of worth to the Cherusci so they would not have anything I need. And lastly, I would be a fool to approach the people I have stolen from for a reward; Biua would quickly have my head besides yours. Be at peace, Vitus, I will not claim your life."

"That may be so," Lucius said, "But know that I shall not require your services, now fall from sight or fall from this world," he warned.

Ardunas closed his eyes and shook his head, "I believe that I can offer proof of my abilities to change your mind. Or are you too cowardly to show your Roman worth?"

The legionaries trembled at such an insult and slowly turned to their General, fearing his reaction. Even the brothers felt slight shivers run over them at hearing this. No man had ever insulted Lucius in such a manner that any of them could remember recently. His titanic legend and ferocious aura prevented the most courageous of men from badmouthing him.

Lucius clenched his fist and glared with eyes that had the fury of a tempest, yet kept a stoic mask to hide his emotion. But the air around the general clearly reeked of offense and anger. To be insulted by a barbarian, a Gaul at that! A people he made an endangered race?! The gods must have blessed this fool with blind courage or sighted stupidity edging for suicide.

"How shall you prove your worth to me?" Lucius finally spoke; his voice was above a whisper and held a weird metallic tone.

Ardunas smiled conceitedly, "I know that your archers are great marksmen who can lay down volleys of arrows unto the enemy. But…are they as immaculately accurate as I?"

Ardunas picked up his large bow and quiver, and handed all of his arrows from his quiver to his men, except one. Ardunas handed the quiver to Lucius, who stared blankly at the arrow container.

"Take hold of the quiver, and extend it out from your chest halfway," Ardunas told him. Lucius eyed the Gaul for a moment, but seized the quiver and held it away from his body with one arm. Lucius stood exactly one meter away from Ardunas.

"What are you to do?" Vitus demanded to know.

"It is simple really." Ardunas placed the arrow along his composite bow; he quickly yet precisely placed the nock of the arrow against the tight string of his bow. He slowly dragged the arrow halfway back across the string, bending the great piece of wood. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then sharply reopened them. "You are fortunate, Lucius. No wind. Now, what I am prepared to do is launch my arrow, and to prove my accuracy, the arrow shall land back in the quiver."

"But-But you are only a meter away from our Father!" Proculus said. "How shall you make the shot?"

Ardunas smirked at his audience, "Like so." The Gallic archer instantly brought his bow up in a perfect 90 degree angle and aimed his arrow precisely at the sun standing directly over the Cherusci village. Ardunas pulled back hard, the muscles of his arms contracting to pull the full weight of the bow back to get maximum velocity, and with the brief release of his fingers, the arrow soared into the air faster than the onlookers could blink. Every man, aside from Lucius, Ardunas, and the rest of the Gauls, dropped their jaws and cranked their heads back to search for the shrinking arrow as it reached further into the ocean blue sky.

"Have you lost mind?!" Proculus shouted, his eyes towards the sky.

"I have not," Ardunas stated, nonchalantly putting the bow over his shoulder. He stared at the General, whose quivering eyes betrayed his stoic frame. "Now Lucius, do not move that arm, if you do so, the arrow may cause lethal harm or death. I guarantee that it will land in the quiver. But if you move," a sinister grin was born on the Gaul's face, "you prove that you and your men are not worthy of me and my men."

Lucius instantly steeled himself and rivaled Ardunas' glare. Both men stood as still as marble statues, none daring to make the first move. Lucius could feel the perspiration in his palms as he held the quiver, calculating if the deadly missile would land in the quiver, or his skull.

"Will you not search for your arrow?!" Publiarnus shrieked.

"To what end?" Ardunas laughed as a child who got the right answer in a lecture, "I know where it shall land." After five seconds, Ardunas said to everyone, "And now…the arrow should be coming down now. Word of caution, you all are in its striking zone."

"This is madness!" one Thracian said, straining his eyes in the sky.

"It can land anywhere!" said another.

"Oroles, can you find it?!" Vitus asked, his voice breaking in terror.

"No! I-I-I lost it in the sun!" Oroles stammered.

"Oh fuck this!" Ligadis blurted out, before turning to run out of the way of the phantom arrow. Many of the men followed suit, even Oroles got out of the striking zone, pulling both Vitus and Proculus with him to safety. The only men who refused to move an inch were Lucius and Ardunas.

"Father! Move! It is too dangerous!" Vitus pleaded.

Yet Lucius stood his ground. He could hear his own heart thundering in his chest and his brain screaming for him to move. Yet for this 53 year old Roman legend, to run away from a direct challenge by a man who stands for Rome's longest enemy, his soul would shatter and with every step he takes will forever be filled with shame. He will not move, come hell or high water, he would not move.

Ardunas smiled once more, his front teeth showing through his thin lips, "I am impressed, Lucius. You are indeed worthy."

As soon as the Gaul's tongue finished uttering the last syllable, the arrow slammed down in the quiver with full downward velocity that it rocked the bones in Lucius' arm. Lucius gasped from the sudden shock and peered down at the quiver; the arrow fell dead center into the quiver, and even penetrated the bottom of the container. The Romans and Thracians gathered around, fascinated by the event that has just occurred, they stood in a deeper sense of awe that Lucius had not moved a muscle.

Lucius looked up to the grinning Gaul, and finally brokered a captivated smirk himself, "You are hired. Mount your horses and follow the legion. Once night camp is established, Publiarnus will have you recite the sacramentum militare and commit loyalty unto me. You will then be officially recognized as mercenaries of the Legio XXVIII."

Ardunas bowed considerately, "It is an honor to service the legion, General." His men behind him bowed and repeated the statement, yet in broken Latin, "Honor to serve legion in such, General."

Lucius flatly stared at the Gauls, Ardunas added on, a touch embarrassed, "I shall instruct them in Common Tongue."

"As you should," Lucius said, turning his back on him and heading for his horse, "One more thing of note, you shall be attached to my sons and their Auxilia Scouts."

Both the brothers did a double-take, "What?" Vitus said, "He is to stay with us?"

"You found him, your responsibility, just like the strays you two "always found"," Lucius said with an amused grin. He galloped away with half of his men.

Ardunas walked up behind the dazed brothers and placed his muscular hands on their shoulders, "I hold feeling that we shall have grand adventures together," he smiled.

Let's be honest, how many of us would stand still knowing an arrow would possibly crash into our skulls or foot, etc. Just saying, Lucius is a surprising badass for standing perfectly still.

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