Note from Kanuro5: Feels good to finally put a new chapter up. Forgive me if some were waiting, but I've been dealing with a lot of emotional events in life. And I think that reflects itself in this chapter. But I'm feeling a bit better now and ready to update once more. Now, we shall start with Act III of Invictus. Enjoy!

XXVIII

The Worth

An hour had passed after the return of the Auxilia. The morale of the entire camp was shattered. The men sat bleakly in their tents, wrapped in blankets to endure the harsh cold that tore through their tents. The screams of the wounded and the chattering of teeth were the only sounds that came from the camp; reminding every man the horrible defeat they had retreated from. The shame in the loss to barbarians was agonizing, but the shame they felt from fleeing was utterly unbearable. Doctrine stated for them to fight to the death, but at that harrowing moment when all their friends were dying around them, fear overcame discipline. Unfortunately, it wasn't just the legionaries who were feeling the brutal sting of loss.

Both of the Julius brothers were on the bloodstained cots that so many Romans lied on before them within the medicus tent. Vitus was sitting up, the palm of his left hand was finally stitched together, the last of his wounds to be treated. He watched as a young slave wrapped linen bandages around his hand, careful to not cause any unnecessary pain for the Roman Commander. But Vitus had long stopped carrying about his wounded hand, the pain scourged every time he clenched his left hand, but the agony could not topple the news of his father's death. He looked over at the cot in front of him which carried Proculus' treated form. He reclined on the cot with his back towards Vitus, but Vitus knew he was awake. He could still hear his sobs.

Beside the brothers was Antonius, who on Vitus' insistence recollected everything about the Twenty-Eighth's ambush. And so the brothers listened to every detail, never interrupting; they heard of Cassius' stabbing Lucius, the onagers, the sacrifice of the Sixth, entering the quarry, facing the chariots, the death of Lucius, the loss of the standard, and the shameful retreat. Vitus sat there in a daze. The emotions he felt were wrath and sorrow, both feelings fighting each other for the singular possession of his soul.

A chilling blast of wind broke into the tent. Antonius watched as slaves pegged the flaps down before he turned to Vitus with a dour look, "The Gods piss on us. A blizzard is approaching." Vitus' eyes remained empty, Antonius continued. "We need to settle down here for the night and pray that the Britons will not be upon us. And then…then we return to Alesia."

Antonius stood up to leave. "Why must we leave?" Vitus' strained voice softly ushered.

"We must return to Alesia and send word of the Britons back to Rome and wait for reinforcements."

Vitus bowed his head and grumbled, he didn't face the Tribune, "We take the March of Shame back to Alesia with ours tails tucked…am I hearing you correctly?"

Antonius sucked on his bottom lip and sighed, "Vitus…we lost to the Britons. We lost more than 85% of the legion. The Twenty-Eighth is no more. We should retreat back to friendly lands…what ideas do you possess?"

Vitus buried his face into his hands, "I…I do not know. How should I? For what purpose do you ask this of me?"

"Because, with your father dead, technically, you and your brother command this legion."

Vitus brought his eyes on Antonius. The Tribune could see the weight of his previous sentence had hit the young Roman with tremendous force. He could see Vitus' mind racing at the mere notion that he and his brother were now in command of their father's legacy.

"Though I hold the rank of Tribune and Captain of the Twenty-Eighth, you are of the Julii family and therefore the General of the Twenty-Eighth. Technically, I must take all orders from you."

Vitus glanced at Proculus, but he did not stir. His back was still turned and his sobs were still heavy. Vitus turned back to Antonius, "We…I command everything, and everyone?"

Antonius quickly looked at Proculus and back to Vitus, "Yes, you do. I shall offer my suggestions, and it is your choice whether to heed my words. But I suggest we held back to our tents and wait out this blizzard, now. And in the morning we return to Alesia—"

"No, we are not going back. We have to finish the mission the Senate gave my father."

"Surely, you cannot be serious."

"I am."

"Vitus such a plan is madness! There exist thousands of Britons out there that we barely escaped from. We—"

"There are always thousands of barbarians in the wild; such is the risk every man knows while crossing Roman borders. Danger always exists. I am giving the command to continue the campaign!"

Antonius could see the fire in the boy's eyes. "Vitus, listen to me. I see what you are feeling. Do not damn this legion to destruction for vengeance."

"This is beyond vengeance, Antonius. I shall not have the scrutiny of failing to saving Maxentius add on to my father's death. I shall not have the Twenty-Eighth exist in shame because we ran from the Britons. That shall not happen. And…" Vitus began to choke up, "I shall not look into my mother's eyes…and tell her that my father is dead and—oh Jupiter, I forgot! We need to find his body!"

"His body was taken by the Britons; we lost it in the fighting!"

"I do not care! We need to regain his body! His bones must be burned in Arretium. It is custom! Assemble the men, we need—we need to search! That is it! We need to find his body before the impending snow covers the quarry in blankets of snow!"

"Wait! You cannot expect the men to follow you out into a blizzard, such a thought is insane!"

"I have to!"

"No you do not!"

"If I do not recover my father's body, who will?!" Vitus screamed. Antonius was silent; he could see the tears welling up in Vitus' eyes.

"Tell me, Antonius, how should I face my mother and uncle with the answer that I left my father's body to freeze in the winter and rot in the spring while I returned to Alesia without even trying? I cannot allow my father, one of the greatest Romans to have existed, to be forever lost in the snow."

"But—if you venture out, you shall die. I know I am here to advise you, but when I meet your father in the afterlife, I shall not bear the burden of allowing you to kill yourself in a mad attempt to save his corpse. I am not allowing you to leave the camp."

A single tear fell down the side of Vitus' cheek. He clenched his teeth and spoke lowly, "You. You were by his side when the life fled from him, correct?"

Antonius lowered his head, "I was."

"Did…did he have any parting words? What were the last words he ushered, if he said any?"

The Tribune thought to himself if it was best if he should reveal the words. But he then came to the decision.

"His last words, he repeated it to his last breath…'My sons'…"

The final string had snapped. Proculus' whimpers loudened. Vitus bolted up from his cot and ran out of the tent, with Antonius chasing after.

With the threat of the snowstorm escalating, the remainder of the Auxilia packed up their camp and moved to the safety into the main legionary camp, but upon entry, the Thracians were stopped by Roman sentries.

"Halt! Why have you Thracians gathered in front of the camp?"

"Allow us entry, our camp has no walls to shield us from the blizzard."

The sentry scoffed. "No entry shall be given. All Auxiliary troops are to remain stationed outside the main camp at all times."

"Remove your head from your ass and let us through," Ligadis berated.

"Get out of my face, the legion has suffered a crippling blow and will not lower itself to seeing the likes of you Thracians."

"We lost brothers as well!"

"Do not dare place them on an equal pedestal with our losses. You all lost hundreds, we lost thousands of brothers!"

"And we are saddened at the lost, truly we are." Oroles said. "But such hostility directed at us shall not revive them. Please, allow us entry? We shall freeze if we are not inside the walls!"

"Auxilia forces are not allowed in the main encampment so just—"

"Enough," said Cossutius, "Allow them entry; we have the room to spare them now."

"But Primus Pilus, they are Auxilia, they must remain in the their designated camp…besides they are Thraci—"

"I do not care if they were the foul seeds of Dis; they shed their blood in defense of their brothers as we did for our own, so these Thracians are our brothers of the Legion." Cossutius approached the sentry with fearsome bloodshot eyes. "Now allow them entry, and if any man holds a problem with this, send them to me."

The sentries parted and allowed the disgruntled Thracians into the main encampment. Oroles walked up to Cossutius and looked into his eyes, before extending his hand out.

"Gratitude."

Cossutius looked at the hand and shook it. "Yes, well, at this low point…we all need to stay together." The grizzled centurion made a gesture for Oroles to follow him.

"I could not agree more…Cossutius, we have not really spoken together have we?"

"No, but we need to remedy that in order for the Legion to survive. Many of these Romans are pompous fools who forget that many of them were allowed to serve because their fathers were Auxilia as well."

"I see. But I believe their foul demeanor is the result of more recent events."

"Unfortunately, that is so…how are your men?"

"Just as miserable as yours. Forgive me if my comment offended, I know you lost more men than I. But its—"

"I know the pain. Regardless if one loss ten and another loss a hundred, the loss of any brother is just as painful."

"That is the cold truth of those who live by the sword. Where do your men shift the blame?"

Cossutius sighed, "Everyone excluding Lucius. They lay particular blame on his sons for inviting Cassius into our midst."

"An unfortunate error born of naiveté and desperation."

"Yet an error nonetheless."

"And where do you fault blame?"

Cossutius stopped in his tracks. "The moment a leader begins to point the finger, he becomes indecisive and petty. The way I see it, we are all at fault, but we must not press petty blame for it shall destroy us. We are the hand of Rome, yet now, we stand as twitching fingers absent purpose, and we need to come together to become the mighty fist once more."

Oroles nodded. He was glad one Roman was at least using his head during this troubling time. "Tell me, Cossutius, where are the brothers, I wish to speak to them."

"That is where I am taking you, Oroles…I was actually trying to find you so that you can speak with Vitus."

The Thracian's eyes grew large with concern, his features quickly contorted in fear, "What has happened?"

"…I fear anger and grief have blinded him."

He led Oroles to the new General, who was speaking with half of the surviving Romans who gathered around him. Oroles listened in to Vitus' pleads to commence a search for Lucius' body before the snow forever claimed it. He could see that sorrow had taken Vitus' reasoning. He was begging and ordering his exhausted and cold men to venture out in a blizzard in enemy-held lands, all in search of a body that most believe the Britons took. The Thracian grudgingly heard the grumbles of the legionaries in the crowd.

"Has he lost his fucking mind?"

"He wants us to go into this damn blizzard and die with him?"

"How dare the boy demand us to partake in this foolish endeavor?"

"Exactly, we would not be in this predicament if not for them taking in that spy!"

"The General is lost to the barbarians, why can he not see this?"

"He still speaks? Why can he not just hold his tongue and let us go, before we all freeze out here?!"

"I know not about you all, but I am heading back to the tent. I am done listening to this rabble."

As strong gusts of ice-filled wind buffeted the camp, legionaries were slowly turning their backs on Vitus two-by-two to reach the warmth and safety of their tents, griping as they did so.

"Did he ask of your opinion yet?" Oroles asked Cossutius.

"No, but I do not agree with him. The men's spirits are shattered and they are angry, a good portion of their anger is directed towards the brothers as I have said before. If we venture off now, the blizzard will destroy us. Yet since he is new to command, I must not embarrass him by refusing him in front of everyone, or he shall forever lose credibility as a leader in the eyes of these men."

"I shall try and remedy this." Oroles made his way to the front of the dispersing Romans, "Vitus! I would have words of urgent matters!"

Vitus ran towards Oroles, but Oroles took Vitus over to the side, while Cossutius quietly ordered the legionaries to prepare for the imminent blizzard.

"What is the urgency?" Vitus asked.

Oroles paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Vitus, the blizzard is approaching, you must stay in your tent."

"What? You take me aside for that?! I shall not, I need to go out and recover my Father's corpse before the snow claims it."

"No, you do not," Cossutius chimed in. "There is a frozen storm coming our way any moment, in addition to the thousands of barbarians out there."

"So? If we move quickly with a few people, we-we-we can find the body and escape before the barbarians or blizzard claim us."

Cossutius' jaw dropped. "Do you hear yourself? Vitus, this is not the way. I will not send the men out in the blizzard. I will not."

Vitus' face contorted viciously. "Fine! You stay here and leave the body of the man-the man who was going to induct you into the greatest family of Rome-for the beasts! How dare you. You and these men call yourselves Romans? Fine, I shall enlist the help of the Thracians."

"No, Vitus. I will not subject my men either."

"What? Y-You too, Oroles?" he said, melancholy gripping his tone.

"This course of action…Vitus, open your eyes to reality, you shall not survive this."

"You doubt me? I have survived everything the world has thrown at me! But my Father is dead because of me! I have to do something!"

"You do. But not now!"

"To shit with that! I shall go out there and recover what belongs to my family!"

"NO! To venture in the middle of a blizzard for a corpse? It is not worth it! He's not worth it!"

Vitus stumbled back from the impact of Oroles' words. The Thracian himself realized how harsh he sounded.

"Vitus, I-I did not mean for my words to—"

"What the fuck do you know about my Father's worth?!" Vitus snapped. "Indulge me, Oroles! Shit, why am I even asking your help?! You fucking hated my father! You dare not lift a finger for him when he was alive, so why should I expect differently that he is dead?" Vitus sighed, lowering his head to the snow. "You know, forget it. Just forget it." He walked back without saying a word, leaving the two men staring at him until he disappeared.

"I should not have said that," Oroles said.

"You spoke your heart. I do not agree with the way you said it. I believe you meant his body was not worth him dying over. Regardless, he needed to hear that it was not worth the risk of freezing in the blizzard. We shall reclaim it without the danger to the army."

"Such is true, but…I have never seen him act this way before…"

"I know the death of his father is hard on him. He is also still in his youth, an emotional time if you can recall. You give a command to boys before donning adulthood and they believe they should do the opposite. I know, I have a son close to his age, he and boys their age are quite rebellious."

"That may be part of it, but there is more to that."

"I know. I do not know why he has to prove himself to searc—"

Something large and quick rode past the two, nearly knocking them to the snow. Looking back on the speeding figure, the two men noticed it was Vitus riding on his stallion, wrapped in furs and blankets, galloping to the front gate.

"Commander! Get back here! Commander!" Cossutius called out.

"No! Vitus! Do not go out there! Vitus! Stop!" Oroles ran after him. But the man could not keep up with the mighty stallion. Vitus hurtled out of the front gate and disappeared into the white storm. The freezing wind buffeted the encampment, the heavy flakes of snow were coming down as fast as rain. But through this tundra of frost, Proculus had opened the flaps to the tent and witnessed his brother gallop out into the wilds.

He didn't know how long he had left the camp; it must have been ten minutes traveling down the road that seemed like cruel hours in the freezing winds. The blizzard had now fully engulfed him. Howling winds plastered Vitus as the snow draped over him like a heavy blanket. The mucus running from his nose was frozen solid, his lips chapped from the cold, and his jaw chattering faster than beating drums.

He sucked in apprehensively at the glacial air; eyes squinted against the pounding wind of snow. It was coming down more heavily now. He was shivering violently. He could feel his own bones beginning to freeze. He had already lost sensation in his extremities. Even his horse was starting to slow down, its speed burdened by the feet of snow before it.

"M-Move, Rom-m-mulus!" he kicked his horse. "We need to k-k-keep m-moving!" He could reluctantly feel Romulus' trembling and painful whinny. Visibility in the storm was dropping fast. He wasn't even sure if he came to the fork in the road yet. The wind was blowing snow right into Vitus' eyes.

The wind stung, and the cold burned. Why were the gods against him now? Why must they stop him for doing what he should, reclaiming his family's honor? The air in his lung began to freeze. Why am I even out here?! He shook his head at the thought. Why did he doubt himself now? He knew why he was here, or at least he thought so.

He closed his eyes and visualized his father's lifeless form, cut in half by the chariots in which Antonius described. He retched at the thought. His mother's words rang in his ear, "Please come back to me. And I know that you are a man now, so please watch over your father and bring him back to me as well." I promised her I would come back with Father…I promised…

His own words so echoed in his thoughts, "Father, all I ask is that you place your faith in me and give me a chance." And look how you turned up. Because of me…because I…I must hurry, before the snows bury him! I won't let it! You must not leave me, Father!

A mad fit of coughing plagued him. His vision began to blur in the storm, and he felt a disturbing fatigue falling on him. Within each blistering second, he felt a piece of his life drain away. The chill enveloped him, nearly forcing him to the brink of madness.

He could hear a strange noise within the wind, he believed it a whistle. But the sound grew louder and became clearer. It came out in the distance behind him.

"…itus…Vitus…Vitus!"

Vitus stopped his horse and listened through the ravaging wind. He clearly heard someone calling his name. The person bellowed out Vitus' name once more. Vitus answered back. The man repeated Vitus' name as he drew closer. Vitus once again answered back, until he could clearly distinguish the voice.

"Proculus? Is that you?!" He shouted.

Indeed it was. The elder brother, draped in furs and blankets rode by Vitus' side. The man was trembling severely from the cold, the color from his flesh nearly gone and his eyes were dangerously bloodshot.

"Why by Jupiter are you here?!" Vitus snapped.

"A question I also ponder! Have you lost fucking mind, coming out here?"

"I need to get Father's—"

"You need to reach some shelter before you die. Come with me. I shall take you back to the camp."

"They let you leave in search of me?"

"Of course not. As I saw you run out the camp, I knew I could never see Mother again knowing that I let you freeze to death. Just like you, I ran to my horse in pursuit of you; with Cossutius, Oroles, and Antonius yelling after me. Now come with me! I am freezing my cock off out here."

"But I—"

"No! Vitus, I look upon your flesh and it is turning blue! Please, for your love of me and Mother, I beg you come with me!"

A mighty blast of ice raced down Vitus' spine, making him finally relent in his mad pursuit. He followed Proculus back the road they took, or so they thought. With the fury of the snowstorm upon them, the horses began subtly turning away from the wind, and venturing deep off path. The brothers could feel their flesh cracking from the cold, their mucus and saliva freezing on their faces, and their bones burning from the sheer cold.

But the brothers had made an extraordinary discovery, possibly divine intervention for them, after ten minutes of aimless wandering; they had found a cave. The brothers rushed inside and kissed the cold cave floor and thanked the gods for deliverance. The cave itself was large enough to fit both horses inside and wide enough for both brothers to fully lie across. Vitus tied the horses down to large stones as Proculus ventured out the cave and returned with several frozen branches.

The brothers made a fire in the back of the cave; sitting close to the fire and watching the dancing flames warm their frozen shivering figures. Vitus was regaining sensation within his extremities, yet his bones still ached; but it was the good ache that reminded one that they were alive. Vitus closed his eyes and listened to the fire crackle. Why did he leave the safety of the camp and venture out into a blizzard?

A snow hare ran into the cave to escape the blizzard and ran close to the fire. Both brothers looked at one another incredulously. Proculus acted swiftly. He took his cape off and threw it on the hare. The draped hare tried to escape from the cape, but Proculus jumped on top of it and held it tight as he drew his dagger and slit the hare's throat. Vitus looked on in stunned silence. Proculus grabbed the hare by its legs and smirked, "The Gods truly grant us mercy." Within minutes, Proculus had skinned the hare completely and was cooking it over the fire as the brothers sat silently by the flames.

"Are you thirsty?" Proculus asked, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Here," Proculus offered Vitus a full pouch of wine, "We shall share it."

"Where did you obtain this?"

"I altered my armor so I can keep a pouch of wine in my belt at all times. Here, drink."

Vitus didn't hesitate; he opened the top and downed several gulps of hard wine and gave it back to his brother. The burn of the wine warmed his chest, and for a quick moment, eased the pain of his loss. He now understood why so many take to drinking.

The two kept passing the wine around for several minutes until the hare was done cooking. Proculus gave half to Vitus and watched as he enjoyed the warm meat that warmed his body.

"I do not remember Father teaching you this?" Vitus slurred, the wine already hitting him hard. "Capturing animals and skinning them."

Proculus lowered his head and fell silent. "He did not. It was…Cassius taught me when we were searching for the Legion."

A strong silence emanated in that cave.

"So, did you not question him when you first met?" Vitus asked, his eyes trained on the fire.

"I…I did."

"Really? What did you ask of him?"

Proculus glanced over at Vitus, "I asked of his identity and the reason he sought entry into the city. And I, I told him my name…and where I was heading." Proculus covered his face with his hand. Vitus gazed at him with a tranquil scorn.

"You, you are such a fool," he said through his teeth.

"I know."

"Such a fool," he repeated, his voice harsher than before.

"I know!"

"How can you be cursed with such idiocy, Proculus?!"

"I fucking know!" the elder brother snapped.

Vitus could feel the heat rising within his body. The more he thought about Cassius, the more his anger grew. He downed the last of the wine and slurred his contempt to Proculus.

"Out of all the people you could have picked up, you picked up a barbarian spy. Unbelievable. You…" Vitus grunted and threw the bone of the hare onto the ground, and looked at his brother with hurt-filled eyes. "How could you do that to Father? How could you misplace his trust like that? How could you place trust in Cassius?"

Proculus began gnashing his teeth slowly and spoke with a growl. "Have you lost your fucking mind? I have thought about nothing but my mistakes in the past hours. But how dare you spew such hypocritical babble. Do not shift the entire blame on me."

"What do you speak of?"

"You!" Proculus jabbed his finger into his brother's chest. "If you hold such gifts of perception, how come you did not see past his guise? You claim to be more knowledgeable than I, and yet you could not decipher that Cassius was a spy. I…I was blinded by emotion of friendship to not see Cassius' true motive, you were not. So what does that say about you?"

"I…W-Well I…forget that, to what do you come to mean by his friendship? What has he done for you to be blinded by 'friendship'?"

"He actually treated me with fucking respect. I…I was at my lowest when Father ordered me to not accompany him…but Cassius, h-he saw me as an unique individual. Or so I thought. He reassured me that I could attain whatever I desired. He taught me to track, to properly set up a camp and hunt, he retaught me the basics of fighting with swords, and he saved my life when we were accosted by brigands. He…he treated me with respect and defended me against Father."

"And such is why you trusted him? Respect? I cannot believe that. He respected you so you trusted him?"

"Yes. Why do you gaze at me like this? What would you know about that?"

"What do you speak of?

"Tell me, Vitus, when have you showed me respect, what have you done to defend me? Ever since this campaign began, you have done nothing for me. When Father was critiquing me before the Legion left Alesia, you did not stand in my defense. And what did you say to me as you prepared to venture out? 'I wish you were coming, take care.' You did not even try to reason with Father to reconsider. I am aware I was not at my best at that time and I had lost favor, but when you lost favor with Father and could not accompany us in securing food, who did you turn to? Me! I agreed to speak on your behalf without even bringing up the fact that you did not do the same for me. You crawled to me like a serpent to regain Father's favor just to accompany me in securing food. And I also took a sword for you! When you were in dire need of rescue from the Germanians at Praxus Hill, I came charging to your defense, and I took a sword in my shoulder. You asked for everything to be handed to you! I had to work and earn back Father's respect!"

"You believe that I did not have to work to reach where I am?!" Vitus bolted to his feet. "You have no idea what it was like to earn Father's favor; I had to train extensively, study hundreds of times, learn different languages just to impress father, all when I was eleven. I only asked to receive what I worked hard for in the last five years! You were the stupid shit that squandered what Father gave you. You exemplify the worse traits imaginable! You are gluttonous, a damn hedonist, and immoral. You are so pathetic that you even store pouches of wine in your armor instead of food!"

Proculus stood to his feet as well and spoke in a shout, "Oh, so you attack me because I have a life and personality? Unlike you, I go out of our villa and enjoy life! You do nothing but stay at the villa like a damn recluse; it is a wonder how you have any friends before coming on this campaign. You have the personality of a fucking hammer; you are either always quiet, always being used by others, or always trying to fix matters with honor, and you are so dull it embarrasses me when I introduce you as my brother."

"Oh, you want to break words upon embarrassment? How about I regale you with my troubles in introducing you as my brother. Always seeing the disappointment and disgust in the eyes of others when they see you walking around like a lowly sot. Not to mention how you constantly seduce every woman your eyes lay upon! Do you even think about your wife when you do so? How could you do that to Appia? She deserves better than you!"

Proculus laughed darkly as he raised his hands in the air, "Oh! 'She deserves better', eh? Well too bad for her. Because this is what she has." He nodded his head fiercely and pointed his finger at himself and shouted to the roof of the cave, "Yes, this is me! Oh Gods above, do take note of this worthless, lowly, drunken fool who fucks every beautiful woman his eyes falls upon! That is me! I admit it! But you know what, brother?" Proculus turned to Vitus and pointed at him, "I am still better than you!

"You, Vitus, you believe you are so fucking special because you hold "noble values" to heart over other men." Proculus brought his hands in the air and spoke in a scream, "'Oh world, please gaze at me for I am Vitus, I turn down honors because it is right to do so, despite the fact that ANY OTHER MAN BLESSED WITH SANITY WOULD HAVE ACCEPTED IT!' You are so incredibly pretentious that it infuriates me! And where has such nobleness gotten you on this campaign? Allow me to count the ways. You got an entire town massacred and enslaved, you screwed our family out of receiving a prestigious honor, and you somehow caused a tribal leader's death and his tribe seeking vengeance against you. Every time you do something noble, you only fucking worsen the situation! Acting that you were so above us all that lowly concerns meant shit to you. Here are things that you also never considered. You are incredibly naïve, thinking that war is clean and how the barbarians are actually people. You are vastly impulsive, always leaping before you look and a constant slave to your own emotions! You did not even fully consider the foolishness in riding out alone in a blizzard! What plagues your fevered mind? I desire to know. Your mind is so skewed that you can never grasp the bigger events around you. You only see the short-term instead of the long-term. And that is why Father is dead."

"Shut up, shut your fucking mouth," Vitus growled, a tear fell down his eye.

"Why? You know I speak the truth! I…I know I was responsible in Father's death, but what infuriates me above all else is how you have the fucking gall to pin this all on me. I know not why Father built you up to be perfect over me. He always said you were destined to succeed him, so why did you not determine Cassius' true nature if you were so fucking great? Maybe if you did not possess the urge to speak to that Cherusci chieftain, they would not have sided with the Britons to kill us! You need to know, that there is nothing special about you! Not your morals! Not your skill! You're just a short, pathetic boy who claims to be a man; yet when life hits you, you curl up in a ball and then try to rectify your disgrace later. You are no Roman. You are fucking pitiful!"

Proculus didn't know what hit him at first. All he felt was a hard, quick blow to his cheek. He stumbled back but gained his balance. He saw Vitus standing tall with tears in his eyes, reeling back his arm to throw another punch. Vitus threw out his arm again, but Proculus blocked the punch with his left arm, gritted his teeth furiously, and delivered a heavy uppercut with his right arm. The blow knocked Vitus off his feet, he could taste blood running in his mouth. Vitus shouted incoherently and charged his brother, his fist clenched tightly, nearly ready to kill his brother.

The brothers charged each other and exchanged heavy hits with one another. The curses in the first minute of the fight died away. The breaths of the brothers came wheezing from their lips; both their chests were straining and heaving, as their arms swung rapidly at one another. Their anger, their sorrow, overcame their senses.

Vitus was indeed the quicker of the two, but within the cave, his maneuverability was useless. The elder brother easily overpowered him and slammed the younger into the ground with great force. He mounted him and repeatedly rained heavy punches to Vitus' defenseless face, until Vitus' arms went limp.

After a brutal hit to Vitus' nose, Proculus suddenly ceased, his fist still raised in the air to deliver another strike. Through the flickering of the flames, the elder brother was able to make out Vitus' battered face. His nose was broken with blood flowing from both nostrils, his chapped lips were busted with blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth—dyeing his white teeth crimson, and his left eye was beginning to swell shut while his right eye looked glazed. Vitus was even coughing up blood and unconsciously whimpering like a scolded dog.

Proculus got up off his brother and looked at his shaking hands, his brother's blood upon his knuckles, and began trembling in silent horror.

It took a full minute for Vitus to begin moving, his groans were heavy and his movements were sluggish. Vitus could only see red out his eyes. The world around him was spinning and his head was throbbing, his face was tender to his own touch and he could feel his lips puffing up. Vitus turned around and met the steel gaze of his brother and turned away from him, spitting up blood. To the depths of hell with Proculus, he didn't need him.

Vitus moved away from the fire and sat near the edge of the cave, alone. Proculus watched without uttering a word. Vitus squatted down and cupped the snow in his hand and rubbed the pristine slush into his bruised and bloody face. The snow stung horribly, but it cooled his face. Vitus applied the snow to his face several times without making a single sound. He lied on the ground, his back facing Proculus, and tried to capture sleep.

Proculus did not avert his gaze from his brother. He wondered if he should say anything to him, but in the end why did it matter? This day has been a horrible nightmare that Proculus could not wake from, what words could be said to remedy it? If anything, maybe he could pursue dreams of a better time before his world fell into a mire of shit. Proculus got close to the fire and wrapped his cape around himself like a blanket and lied down on the cold ground, with his back pointed to Vitus.

When Proculus first awoke, the grey sky had finally turned black, and he could see the shine of the moon hiding behind the night clouds. The blizzard had died down, but it was still snowing heavily. The fire had nearly died out, but he tossed the remaining wood into the pyre and warmed himself. His jaw was still sore from Vitus' punches and the gash on his cheek had clotted. He lied back down near the fire and closed his eyes, but the low, piercing sound of chattering opened his eyes. At the mouth of the cave, he saw the sleeping Vitus, curled in a ball, and plagued by mighty shivering.

Proculus could hear the chattering of his teeth and the quick sucking of air from his bruised mouth. The wine was wearing off and Proculus recollected all that had happened. He could see Vitus wrapping his crimson cape around his body to keep whatever warmth he had; making Proculus wonder how long his brother quaked from the cold. Vitus knew the answer; he was shivering for about an hour. The cold was so fierce that it stirred him from a pained sleep. Though he had his furs and his cape, he could still feel the devilish chill of winter. He prayed to Apollo to bring out the beautiful sun to warm him, so he wouldn't dare suffer the indignity of returning to his brother's fire.

Through the chattering of his teeth, Vitus heard the crunching of footsteps walking up from behind. The footsteps stopped a meter shy behind him, and Vitus felt a small blanket drape over him. The crunching footsteps then retreated back, deep into the cave. Vitus looked at the new blanket that covered him, only to discover that it was another red cape that covered him. Vitus did not look back; he instead placed his head on the cold earth and finally drifted off back to sleep; the thin layer of the second cape providing him with more warmth than the sun.

This is one of my favorite chapters to write as I'm able to delve deeper into the characters during their lowest points. That being said, I don't know why, but I feel liked I rushed it. Did I? I don't know, they always say "You are your own worse critic."

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