Kanuro5: Not much to say but I hope you will enjoy!


II

The Road

The medicus scooped out a handful of salve and rubbed it on Vitus Julius' forearm. His arm twitched from the application of the ointment, his bruised limb now coated in the oily substance but after a few minutes of rubbing by the medicus, the salve began to soak into the skin.

"So, Germanicus, the coloration seems to be returning, does any pain linger?" the physician asked.

Vitus moved his arm and clenched his fist several times, "Occasional sensations when I grip tightly, but the pain has dullened considerably."

The medicus nodded, "Good. It was most fortunate that the warlord didn't break any bones in the arm. Upon tomorrow, allow me to administer more of the salve and I guarantee that your forearm shall recover fully."

"Gratitude, for your effort."

"Now, what about that slash on your other arm, is such a wound plaguing you?"

"No, it is fine. Gratitude for your aid," he said, standing up to leave.

He glanced at the healing wound on his arm where Odavacar's axe sliced through his flesh. It was stitched up neatly and the blood had dried, thanks to the help of a few maggots. Another addition to my collection, Vitus thought to himself with a sigh. He was shirtless to better aid the medicus, but he took the time to examine all the scars he received on his body from being stabbed, slashed, speared, and shot by arrows. He was of sixteen years when he first entered combat, but now he was nineteen—about to be twenty within a month—and he was covered in the scars of war from thigh to forehead. The most egregious scar was that on his forehead that ran from temple-to-temple. He received it when he was sixteen and improperly blocked an attack from a Germanic champion. The barbarian used his massive strength to send Vitus' own sword against his forehead, splitting it open. He stilled remembered the pain on his skull, the stinging of the blood falling in his eyes, and the sensation of passing out once he had killed that barbarous champion.

Three days had passed since the Roman victory at the banks of the Rhine. The eight battered legions of the Julii withdrew into the town of Lugdunum—which once stood raze with many buildings in rubble from the Suebi attack, but after its recapture by the Julii a few short months ago, it was in the process of renovation. It was around sundown in the town and the citizens were men and women ceasing in their rebuilding and afternoon duties and prepared to turn in for dinner and slumber. Yet many soldiers of the eight legions were still out carousing with each other as they drank to their total victory over the Germanic barbarians. And they shared such victory with several civilians, especially the women.

He spotted his own soldiers from his Twenty-Eighth Legion seemingly harassing Germanic prisoners, men and women shackled together and in cages. These men and women were warriors that Vitus had taken prisoner within the last two months, about a hundred in all. Not many considering the thousands that his father had captured in his war in Gallia. These Germanians would be sold as slaves, great gladiators and gladiatrixes throughout the Republic, the Teutons were renowned for their ferocity in fighting, yet made poor house slaves. Vitus expected he could make a decent profit from them. Aside from the people, he had also secured a moderate amount of booty that was taken from the campaign which were secured within guarded chests by his most trust soldiers. Booty? Ha! A term which was insignificant compared to other regions in the world, such as Pontus and some parts in Africa. The only thing of worth that could be found in Germania were hides from the numerous animals within the woods, certain amounts of pottery, and the only jewelry that could be scrounged was only for the wealthiest of the Germanian tribes which wasn't much. The Roman soldiers laughed at the prisoners, dangled food in front of the cages, whistled at the Germanian women, and splashed wine onto them. Several of the prisoners roared with ferocity and spat at the Romans, earning a quick baton to the cages and hard blows to several exposed body parts that stuck out of the cages.

"Leave them be!" Vitus shouted as he advanced.

"Apologies, Legatus, but they are foul-tempered!" One of them said, "They piss and spit upon us."

"They are valuable commodity, to not be abused. They were defeated in battle, many of them were surrounded and still killed many soldiers before they were captured. So show some decorum and leave them be."

"Yes, Germanicus!" they bellowed, then withdrew.

Vitus looked to the caged eyes who glared back with utter vileness. Slaves, hides, and jewelry, to provide ample coin for him—and most importantly, to pay for the wages of his legionaries. He was fortunate that his father had placed the silver mine he owned in Hispania in his will for Vitus—which still had an abundance of silver to be excavated—most of the income from such a mine financed his legion.

Vitus left the slaves, his mind occupied on more pressing matters. He entered the stables of the town and looked to his black steed, Romulus, who was lying on its legs patiently as the eques medicus was still examining the spear wound in his chest.

Vitus gently bit the bottom of his lip before he asked, "How is he?"

The physician nodded, "Your horse is recovering swiftly, it was fortunate that the wound was not fatal, but I would advise you to not ride him for a few more days."

He breathed easier. He took a look at Romulus and his horse had looked towards him. He rose to his feet and approached Vitus, nestling his head against the Roman's arm. Vitus chuckled and rubbed his stallion's neck. Such an intelligent creature. To see you wounded… He shook the idea out of his head, but it was a constant fear that he had. Warhorses have an alarming tendency to suffer grievous wounds within the thick of the fighting, which Vitus charged into often. All it takes is one good spear thrust or a mighty swing of an axe to the legs and the horse falls. Then one would have to put it out of its misery. He petted Romulus more, his black coat was groomed neatly and caught the light in a prestigious way. His horse reminded Vitus of the tale of Bucephalus, Alexander of Macedon's personal horse and arguably the most famous warhorse in history. Bucephalus was large and black of coat as Romulus was, and said to be as intelligent as a man. According to legend, no one could tame the wild stallion, not even King Philip of Macedon; yet his young son, Alexander, tamed the horse by culling its fear of its own shadow. Since then, Bucephalus had been Alexander's favorite mount in battle but during the final campaign of Alexander in the East; Bucephalus was fatally wounded and later died. Alexander would later name a city after his noble steed.

"Do the best you can," Vitus told the doctor, "Tomorrow the legion is heading back to Italia."

"I shall, rest assured."

Vitus smiled, stroking his horses' neck caringly, muttering to the equine, "We both were injured during that last fight, and we both set to recover. Rest easy, Romulus." And with that, he left his horse.

He came upon the remains of the Forum and sat out in the open at a table and supping on some bread, figs, and wine; enjoying the simple art of people-watching. Several legionaries were sitting in front of a group of men, women, and children recollecting their exploits of bravery against the monstrously savage barbarians, in which the citizens clapped and cheered. Many other soldiers were drinking and singing songs of victory, though a centurion would often come by and remind them that they would be marching tomorrow and thus they cannot afford to drink too heavily—yet Vitus knew that such prospect would be inevitable with some men. Some men were finding some places to sleep for the night, resting their bodies against the backs of some ruined homes. And a good chuck of legionaries decided to lay with the camp followers outside the city and the whores within the city. Once the Romans took back Lugdunum, the citizens began to return in droves, including the whores.

"Where is he? I desire to see him!" a voice slurred.

"He is over here, I see him," slurred another voice.

Two men staggered in front of Vitus—both of barbarian blood and both under the influence of wine. One was his Mercenary Captain and Commander of the Archer Auxilia, Ardunas the Gaul. The other was the son of the Marcomanni chieftain, Etor the Germanic. Wine was on their breath and their faces were flushed with merriment, but it was Etor who seemed to be the least drunk of the duo, walking straighter than Ardunas. A Germanian and a Gaul enjoying a bout of laughter? Vitus believed he must have been in a dream.

Etor was a fine warrior and an even better horseman, he led his Marcomanni cavalry brilliantly when teamed with the Roman cavalry against the Suebi. In fact, the Marcomanni stood the only Germanic tribe allied to Rome to aid the Julii against the Suebi Invasion. They have taken to Romanization quicker than the other tribes and even versed their offspring in Latin, all of them enticed by the wonders that the Republic can offer. They provided cavalry, light infantry, missile troops, and informed the Julii of the tactics of the Suebi and how the Romans themselves can use the Germanic woodlands to launch ambushes against the Suebi. These men were crucial in the campaign, and it was because of Etor—the son of the Marcomanni chieftain, Hirban—who commanded the Marcomanni cavalry and aided in their victory at the banks of the Rhine. After Odavacar was dead, Etor took his warriors back to their lands to ensure no Suebi remnant were launching any hidden assaults.

Etor looked to the Legatus and extended his hand and spoke in clear Latin, yet his accent was still strictly a guttural barbaric inflection, "Ah, Germanicus! I could not tell you at the time, but that was a good battle! Your plan at the banks succeeded marvelously."

Vitus smiled and shook hands with the swaying Germanian, "Only because you played your part to perfection. I asked much of your Marcomanni, but I stand grateful that you aided us in this crucial endeavor. I give gratitude to you and your people. Are your lands secured?"

"That they are, my people are thankful to you, as is my father, Hirban. He only ask that since we gave so much in the duty of Rome, that your Patriarch remembers his vow to us."

"I shall speak to him personally about the valor of the Marcomanni. You have my word." Vitus turned to the grinning form of Ardunas. "How does the evening fare with you, Ardunas?"

"Oh a fucking blessing! The gods sure can deliver gratitude in the form of a woman!"

"What do you mean?"

"You never know how truly amazing a Roman woman can fuck when she's 'grateful', eh!" He then howled like a wolf, much to the amusement of Etor.

"You've visited the whores?" Vitus asked with a raised brow and a cocked smirk.

"Twice today!"

"And do not tell me, you are going back to the whores again, correct?"

"Of course! Who the fuck do you think I am, Vitus! There's plenty of wine provided by General Sertorius and whores are in the town and we emerge victorious. In fact, come with us and bury your Roman cock inside some women! You're a handsome, young legatus and a Julius to boot! They shall lift their stola's faster than you could blink! You could practically feel the heat exude from their warm, velvety cunts!"

Feel the heat from their warm, velvety cu— He could feel his loins stirring at the image of an endowed woman lifting her dress in his mind's eye, her lower mouth parting with the summer warmth exiting and wafting around his senses. It had been so long since he last coupled with a woman… He shook his head, "Ardunas! I am married, I cannot do that."

"And? She would not know. So come and—"

Ardunas stopped upon seeing a hardened glare from Vitus—no, Germanicus! That glare was from Germanicus. The Gallic archer nodded his head with pursed lips, "Fine, be that way. More for me. Now if you excuse us, Germanicus, there are whores that call for our cocks!" Ardunas roared unashamedly. "Come, Etor! Bear witness to how a Gaul fucks with purpose!"

Vitus called out after them as they left, "Do not enjoy yourself too much, we are to leave at first light tomorrow."

As the noise around him began to die down, his mind drifted back to Arretium, back to her. His wife. It had been almost an entire year since he had seen her, and since he had been inside of her. He felt himself hardening under his tunic at the thought of their wedding night. He sighed at the sight of his arousal, his brother always said that the Julii were truly virile, a gift from their goddess ancestor, Venus. He crossed his legs and tried to fight away the temptation, luckily he saw who was approaching him and gave the man a friendly smile, he would get his mind off sex; for it was the general who had commanded the entire campaign against the Suebi Invasion, Quintus Sertorius, walking towards Vitus.

He was a simple man of Sabine blood who proved himself a gifted orator and jurist. He then pursued a career in the military and there found his calling. He was brave, honorable, and innovative in battle. Early in his career, he served under the famous Gaius Marius and later fought with Vitus' father—Lucius Julius Magnus—in Hispania with such valiance that he was awarded the Grass Crown, the highest military decoration in the Republic. Upon winning the crown, the Patriarch of the Julii family adopted Sertorius into the Julii clan.

Lucius Julius was often heralded as the greatest general of the Julii; but such praise meant that Quintus Sertorius was the second greatest general of the Julii. And with his father gone, Sertorius was the powerhouse of the entire clan. It was said that Lucius singlehandedly took Hispania, but such was farther from the truth, it was Lucius and Sertorius that took Hispania and the Patriarch decided that a man as gifted as Sertorius should be awarded the entire Governorship of the peninsula of Hispania. Whilst Oppius had a bodyguard retinue of Romans, and whilst Vitus had a bodyguard retinue of Thracians; Sertorius' retinue of bodyguards were made of a mix between Romans and warriors from various tribes in Hispania. His stratagem in combat often involved utilizing his men and cavalry in brilliant hit-and-run tactics involving ambush and sabotage to draw out the main force of the enemy to be met in battle and destroyed—it was because of this that the Julii were able to repel the Suebi Invasion quickly within ten months.

He was in his early 40s but looked as if he was a decade younger. He was tall and muscular, his body a tribute to his life training within the army. Yet what truly made him stand out from other men was that he was missing an eye, lost to him in a ferocious battle a decade ago. Yet this feature only seemed to enhance his prestige as he would often wear a leather eyepatch around his missing eye, which did little to cover the large scar that ran down his eye—even splitting the eyebrow. He was a gregarious man yet stoic when he needed to be; fair and just, yet firm. And whenever he spoke for a period of time, his eloquence and influential speech became apparent to all. He was the best of men, an individual that all could admire and desired to emulate, Vitus Julius being one of them. He exuded authority in such that it reminded Vitus of his father; some men were just born with the power of command. He often felt inferior just standing next to Sertorius.

Sertorius sat down beside Vitus, a jug of wine in hand and refilled Vitus' cup with a genial smile. "Never considered you the man to be drinking alone, Vitus."

He shrugged, "Best chance to reflect over past journeys and watching as citizens and soldiers interact with one another."

Sertorius sighed agreeably, his eye looking towards the stability that they have brought. "A pleasant thing, is it not? Our men are joyous in spirit, as are the Lugdunum citizens; weary days do approach them to rebuild a life they once knew, free of barbarian threat. And yet they have time to rejoice in relief. Such is… beautiful. I believe that we can allow ourselves to take pride in our efforts, for we've done a great thing here."

"We have. A shame we cannot linger and aid in the rebuilding. It looks as if they require all the aid they can gather."

"Do not worry upon such, Vitus. My men shall take care of it."

"How?"

"I offered a bonus for a thousand of men who would volunteer to stay in Lugdunum and aid in its recovery."

"How generous of you."

Sertorius smiled pleasantly, "These people were subjugated to horrors that we cannot even begin to describe. With the depths of torture and death surrounding them all in these past harrowing months… if I can do whatever I can and provide some measure of comfort for them, then so be it."

"If only more men were like you."

He gave the younger man a chuckle as a response. "How is your horse, uh, 'Romulus' was it not?" Sertorius asked him.

"Yes, that is his name. He shall make a strong recovery."

Sertorius smiled, "Such lifts the heart. A stallion in agony is the worse thing to witness, especially if it is your most precious mount."

Vitus mused on the idea. "How many times has such happened to you?"

His single eye flickered to the sky and then to the table in front of him, "Too many. I often venture into the thick of the fighting, and my horses endured the consequences. I speak to men who often held command and express the heavenly praise upon their horses, how beautiful their coats are, how obedient they can be to their masters, how much profit can be secured upon sale. These commanders prize their mares and stallions over their own soldiers and choose not to be involved in the fighting personally. I cannot do that. I want to go out there, I want to fight and aid my men; I love my horses and I've prepared myself that they would die in battle when I lead a charge. But that does not make it any easier when you lose one. Such may happen to Romulus, and you must be prepared for that, Vitus."

He was a true lover of nature, a natural at the breaking of wild stallions; he had a presence that calmed men and beasts when in his vicinity. His words had a way of calming a heavy heart and elevating one status upon the pureness of his prose and articulation. He truly was one of a kind. Sertorius was the man that his Father could have been if he had borne a kinder disposition.

"So this is where the generals are at!"

Both Vitus and Sertorius turned to Aulus Oppius, waltzing to them as he hummed a marching tune, carrying a plate of salt beef with him.

Sertorius' smile lessened, but he expanded his arms towards Oppius, "Take a seat and be part of the company."

"Sertorius and I were just breaking words on the good that we have done for these people."

The fellow general took a seat and placed his meal in front of him. "The Germanic threat put to grass, the survivors rescued from the clutches of savage slavery, and the glory of such actions have sprinkled upon us. A mighty good we have done indeed. And also, know that I offer pray to your kin, Germanicus. I knew Sextus, he was a good man and a talented administrator, and he shall be missed."

Vitus vaguely remembered Sextus; he was a distant cousin around the age of fifty. He had arrived for the funeral of Vitus' father's three years ago to express his condolences. Though he didn't know Sextus well, he was of the Julii and the governor of Lugdunum—his death at the hands of the Suebi was never to be taken lightly.

"He truly shall be missed," Oppius repeated.

"Gratitude for those words." Vitus said, forcing a polite smile.

Oppius smacked on his beef for a few seconds before asking open-endedly, "So, when do you believe that the Patriarch shall choose a new governor of Lugdunum?"

Vitus' eyes crossed narrowly at the comment. "When everything shall be in proper order, I best believe. Much needs to be reestablished once everything is settled. We'll need to recruit new men from the province to garrison all forts in the region and within Lugdunum, along with gathering a tally on all revenue lost within the Invasion, including a tally on all of the missing and deceased patricians and men of political office within Lugdunum."

"Vitus is right," said Sertorius, "A careful candidate must also be considered. Though it is the territory of the Julii, the Senate must approve of the choice, to ensure that no levels of corruption can occur or another assault by foreign enemies could be launched again."

"I understand, I am just stating that a governor can aid in the renovation of this settlement." Oppius told them.

Vitus said, "That shall be for the future. The campaign is over and I am eager to return home to Italia, as are most of my men. To rest, to see loved ones, to be away from barbarians for a while. Such is rest and rejuvenation. And also, knowing my brother and uncle, they probably seek to throw a celebration upon our return to Arretium."

Sertorius sighed at the comment, "Upon your return, Vitus."

"What do you mean, Sertorius?"

"Your uncle, Decius, he would offer celebration for our accomplishments in this campaign. Yet… I mean no offense to him but I feel my presence shall be better suited within Hispania."

Vitus and Oppius exchanged glances with each other. "You shall not come for celebration?"

To Vitus, it seemed at that moment that Sertorius' eye fell to the table in a twinge of regret. "I cannot. No, rather I should not."

"But this is your victory! It was your stratagem that resulted in the defeat of the Suebi. This is your victory and your moment!"

"I agree with Germanicus." Oppius added in. "We stood as your support in this campaign. As the senior Commander, the glory is yours."

"I have seen my share of glory throughout my lifetime, and truth be told, I would have chosen to stay within Hispania if I held choice. Yet the emergency of the situation made me leave my peninsula to quell the Suebi Invasion. Vitus, Aulus, you both have won your share of acclaim. Aulus, you repelled the Suebi assault upon our camp weeks ago with only half a legion. And Vitus, you earned name as 'Germanicus' for your personal valor against the enemy. Return to Arretium and bask in such glory, I insist. Allow all the noble men and women of the plebeians to herald you all "heroes", allow then to witness that one cannot truly land a blow of injustice against the Republic and seek to escape with impunity. This shall be your moments, yet not I. I shall do the honorable course and only seek to return to Hispania, I shall feel more at peace if I do."

Vitus understood right there what he meant. As long as Lucius Cornelius Sulla was the dictator of the Republic; his hated enemy, Sertorius, could never return to the Italian peninsula if he valued his life. Vitus recalled how vehemently Sertorius protested against the Julii joining Sulla's war against the Senate, Sertorius even threatened to abscond from the Julii with the entire province of Hispania if it meant that Sulla would not gain power. But the Julii Patriarch and his silver-tongue managed to persuade Sertorius to stay with the Julii and fight alongside Sulla—albeit rather reluctantly.

"I understand," Vitus said. Best to leave it as is, broaching the subject of Sulla with Sertorius was rather taboo.

The edge of Sertorius' mouth moved up with a nod. "Gratitude for understanding."

"Governors and Legatus!" announced a soldier with a salute. From the emblem of his armor, he was a legionary under Sertorius.

"Ah, Titus Sundo," remarked Sertorius amiably, "What is it?"

"Pardon for interrupting, but a courier has traveled with apparent news of import for Governor Aulus Oppius."

"Truly? Alright then, send him forth."

The young messenger stepped from behind the soldier and gave a profound bow before the three generals. "A thousand apologies, yet I bring message to Aulus Oppius, Governor of Massilia."

"I am he," Oppius said with a beckoning hand. "Break words upon message, courier."

"Such message is sealed for privacy, governor. Here." He handed the sealed scroll to Oppius who examined the seal before breaking it. He unraveled the message and his eyes combed from word-to-word. After half a minute he gave a tiresome groan and folded the message. He looked to the courier and tossed him a few coins. "Gratitude for your service. Ride back to Massilia and inform Prefect Marcus Pulcher of my prompt return."

The man bowed and left them. Sertorius looked to Oppius, "What has happened, if you do not mind?"

Oppius exhaled in frustration, "I do not. Such message brought ill news of my business contacts in Massilia. One of my supervisors, that raging fool, lost documents worth three full talents of pay which was meant to be stipend to the workers of the docks. Now these workers are furious at the prospect of heavy work with no benefit of coin and apparently started rioting around the docks."

Vitus inhaled sharply, "Truly? How vast is the mob?"

"A paltry sum, if truth be told." He sliced a portion of beef from his plate and chewed it. "Apparently they number around two hundred men and the Town Watch fear that such numbers may swell. Yet they are contained in the dockyard. I swear I shall ring the neck of the incompetent ass who blundered the workers into riot when I return."

Oppius washed the beef in his mouth with the last amount of wine in his cup. He cleared his throat and ordered, "Slave! Wine!"

"Should you not be more concerned about this?" Sertorius asked. "A riot is occurring within your city."

"Believe me, I am. Yet it shall be quelled quickly. We are two days away from Massilia. I shall send my three legions back to the city immediately to regain control. What can two hundred do against over ten thousand?"

"If such is a problem, I can bring my men to Massilia to aid you."

"Gratitude for such thoughts, but it is not necessary, Sertorius. I can handle such problems; you can return your men to Hispania."

"Are you certain?" Vitus asked.

He nodded, "I am. They need to see that it is my soldiers that bring order to the city. And with such show of force, they shall know that any uprising shall be meted out with the harshest of measures. Where's my tribune?" He called for him loudly. The man hurried and presented himself. Oppius called for his cup to be refilled before he spoke. "Tribune Caranius, alert the legates and Primus Pilus of my three legions that the army is to cease in celebration and to sober quickly, they are to leave within an hour for Massilia. A riot is occurring within the dockyard—which is to be quelled immediately."

"Apologies to question, Governor, but the sun is setting and the men are still festive in drink and women, would it be the best route to travel by night after extensive celebration?"

"I want this rioting to cease immediately, the soon the legions are sent, the quicker commerce within Massilia to resume. I should risk taxes and trade to fall to disarray for a few hours of sleep? Nonsense. And those who are too drunk to march shall be flogged into sobriety, understood?"

"Understood, Governor. Should I alert your retinue of guards as well?"

"No, let them sleep, I believe it best they should rest until the morn tomorrow. I shall stay with my guards overnight and proceed to Massilia within the morning."

"Understood!"

As a slave came and refilled Oppius' cup, Vitus observed how Oppius failed to notice Sertorius' brief but scathing look. Aulus Oppius was a man in his 40s and of high aristocratic blood, and he expressed such views upon his plebeian soldiers. He often ate alone in his tent instead of with his men like Sertorius and Vitus had, and when Oppius' soldiers dined on bread and porridge; he dined on syrup figs, salted beef, and honey. He persuaded the Julius Patriarch to give him the governorship of Massilia—the biggest port city in the Julii territory at the southern edge of Transalpine Gaul—where the commerce from the dockyard was very lucrative and could be taxed exponentially; something that many people suspected was the reason Oppius lobbied for the position so fervently. He was always in the opinion how the patricians should stem the shrinking gap between plebeians, who slowly were growing more prominent and richer as the patricians were growing poorer. He was also one of the main members of the Julii to convince the Julius Patriarch to side with Sulla's march upon Rome. He even rode beside Sulla in many of his battles—a subject which Vitus believes Sertorius still harbors disdain over, but puts on a mask of polite professionalism whenever he speaks to Oppius.

Oppius cleared his throat, "Apologies, Germanicus, but I shall not be able to return to Arretium, this business in Massilia must be settled."

The young man blinked incredulously. "Are you certain on that?"

"I am." Oppius smirked smugly, "It seems like you shall share in singular glory upon your arrival."

Vitus cleared his throat, "Glory and honor best assuaged with you two along."

Oppius gave him a quick wink, "You have a new name because of your soldiers, best bask in it."

"Well, I do hope such activity shall be quashed upon your return to Massilia."

"As do I, Vitus." Oppius said, exhaling after finishing his drink.

Sertorius cleared his throat, his single eye lingering on the aristocrat, "Are you certain you do not require aid?"

"I am fine; I tell you surely, both of you. My men shall finish this sordid business upon my arrival tomorrow. The soldiers shall part those dissenters to pieces, quick as Pan."

Sertorius looked to young Vitus, who just gave a mild shrug of uneasiness. "Well if you truly insist," said Sertorius, "Then we shall leave this to you."

"Gratitude. It shall be over before we know it."

"In the meanwhile," Sertorius raised a cup. "A toast to be made, if you both will? We have done well on this campaign. We have trodden the enemy so severely they dare not threaten us for years to come. We have saved the lives for as many Romans as we could, to remind them that whenever distress from foreign invaders come, we shall rally to shield them from harm. And to those who we couldn't protect, then… we remember them in prayer and ask the Gods to watch over them in the afterlife. We have done what we can and we have bested the Suebi, to the aid of men like you, Aulus Oppius. And the vile warlord Odavacar who slayed many Romans—including Sextus Julius—is dead, to the aid of you, Vitus Julius Germanicus. I lift a cup to you two, for your valor in battle."

"I shall offer a toast to such," Oppius laughed, raising a cup.

"As can I." Vitus said. He raised his cup and said proudly, "This journey of ours could not have been done without you, Quintus Sertorius, your stratagem and courage allowed us to defeat the Suebi within less than a year. This victory is yours as much as ours! Long live the glorious Republic of Rome…" And they all finished together, "And long live the Julii that grants Rome her strength!"


It was a pleasant morning for Aulus as he awoke. The boy that he shared his bed with was still sleeping and still quite the degree of charming that he remembered him exhibiting last night. He was sleeping within the only ten apartments within town that were unharmed; he paid the tenants if he and his bedmate could sleep in their beds.

Sertorius and Germanicus had said their goodbyes to him the previous night if Oppius did not awake early enough to catch them. Oppius stepped out of the apartment and basked in the sun, from the placement in the sky, it was mid-morning and Sertorius and Germanicus had taken their legions down south in the direction of Massilia; after that, Sertorius would head west to Hispania, while Germanicus would head east to Italia. With eight battered legions now gone from the rebuilding city, Oppius was quite taken with how much quieter it had become. The only men that remained were a thousand of Sertorius' volunteers who were busy in the rebuilding of the once notable town. One of Oppius' men came up to him, his face flushed with what Oppius could tell was a minor hangover.

He stood as straight as he can, "We are ready at your call, Governor."

"Enjoyed your extended night?"

"Yes, we did! Gratitude for that."

"Of course, now my legions have left last night and must have gained good time on the roads. Let us return to Massilia and hope by then when we enter, that the soldiers have brought order."

All twenty of his personal bodyguards mounted up on their horses and prepped to leave. Oppius kissed his young bedmate goodbye and ordered his men to hit the road down to Massilia.

The weather was pleasant and the road was quiet, one would never suspect that this region had been encompassed in heavy fighting for the past year. The road was paved and laid in the middle of two large sets of woods running parallel of the road, still reminding Oppius of the barbarian forests. Oppius didn't send out any scouts ahead of him, which was against custom for military movement; after all, they were in friendly Roman territory and his legions—along with the legions of Sertorius and Germanicus—had already marched past down this road. What would appear on the road for him to worry?

Such answer came upon the form of a wailing woman, loud and sharp. Around the turn of the corner, Oppius and his men came upon a man and a woman lying on the road, their wagon in a ditch off-road, the wheels were broken and its leather strapped suspension had snapped. The horse that carried the wagon was lying dead within the ditch, white and red foam seeping from its open mouth. Both man and woman were covered in dirt with the woman on the ground, tears in her eyes and her back to the dirt. She was heavily pregnant and her lithe arms were cradling her stomach as if to suppress the pain, her legs spread wide with the man in between them.

"What has happened?" Oppius asked.

The man approached them with frantic eyes and sobbing. He was tall and he looked to be in his early 40s and wore a heavy dark cloak, he had a few scars on his neck which draped down to the top of his chest. He bore an interesting nose that seemed to hook outward like that of an eagle's and his eyes bore the sharpness of a predator, even if he was crying at the very moment. He had chestnut brown hair and a beard of moderate length, yet was kempt and trimmed. "My good man! Fortune has cursed me greatly! Our horse started shrieking with madness and veered down into this ditch. It is dead and the wheel to our wagon is busted. Worse, my wife, Gaia, prepares to deliver our child!"

She was sweating and shaking, tears were falling down her round, supple cheeks. She continued to scream. The husband continued frantically, "I had desired to reach Massilia before she would deliver, yet Juno Lucina had seen fit to bring our child into the world now! But I know not what to do!"

Oppius' men looked at him with questioning eyes. Yet he didn't know what to do? The woman was in labor but the delivering of children was meant to be by the hands of women and the squalling mother-to-be was the only one in considerable distance.

"Can she not… hold it?" asked one of the bodyguards open-endedly.

"You fool! A woman cannot simply 'hold' an emerging child!" sneered another one.

"But we cannot deliver her here."

As his men squabbled among themselves, Oppius leapt off his horse as did three of his soldiers and approached the couple, "Can she move?"

She winced in pain, stammering, "No, no, I cannot!" She screamed again.

"The child is coming now!" her spouse pleaded. "I could see the hair on the head!"

Oppius blinked hard, trying to force out the image of a head coming out of the holiest part of a woman from his mind. "Be calm! She shall be fine! What is your name?" he asked as he knelt beside the husband.

"Publius, if it pleases you. What is yours?"

"Aulus Oppius. Be calm, Publius, Gaia shall give birth to a healthy child for you."

"You are Aulus Oppius? The governor of Massilia? The man who rode beside Sulla?"

Oppius couldn't even tell that a smirk of pride was riding on his face. "The very same."

"Good."

"Huh? 'Good'? To what do you—"

Publius raised his arm high and brought it down, chopping the air with his hand. A loud grunt and gurgle broke out behind Oppius. He spun around to see one of his men on horseback clutching his throat that now was shedding thick amounts of blood, and an arrowhead protruding from the side of his neck. Another bodyguard grunted as an arrow entered through his back and into his heart, a third soldier shrieked as an arrow knocked him off his horse as it entered into his ribcage. Arrows began flying every which way from the two sides of the forest and Oppius' bodyguards began falling quickly onto and off their horse from these precise shots. From both sides of the road, men wearing blackened coats rushed towards the road, dual swords in hand as black fabric clothed their heads except for their eyes—these men engaged Oppius bodyguards with ruthless efficiency. Oppius only blinked in horror, his brain not fully registering what was going on.

"Oppius!" his bodyguard shouted.

Oppius finally snapped out of his daze and turned around quick enough to grasp what was going to happen. Publius stood to his feet and had a large stone in hand and raised it high. Oppius' hands shot up instinctively to protect his face, but Publius smashed the rock over his head.

Aulus Oppius collapsed to the dirt with a heavy thud. His head was throbbing fiercely as if a monster was trying to rip his skull open with brute strength. His vision began to fade around him, the sounds of shouts began to blur. He tried to speak, he tried to move, he tried to—but he couldn't. The entire world was spinning around him and he couldn't even feel the ground beneath him.

"Kill him!" Oppius had barely heard such a command by one of his men.

Three of his soldiers unsheathed their swords and ran at Publius with a charge. From under the back of his cloak, Publius reached behind with both hands and drew two gladii and took a defensive stance. The first soldier lunged at Publius, yet Publius had deflected the lunge with one blade and shoved the second blade into the soldier's throat. He then spun out of the kill with surprising grace and dipped low under the horizontal swing from the second soldier's sword—Publius took both of his swords and cleaved the soldier's leg at the shin. The soldier fell down screaming. The third soldier swung wildly as well, but Publius blocked it with both swords and disarmed the man, then drove his dual weapons inside the man's chest.

The horses of Oppius' bodyguards began to frighten within this whirlwind of surprise carnage and began to speed off into the distance; one of them galloped over Oppius and nearly crushed his skull with its hoof. Oppius heard Publius, "Seize the horses, quickly!"

Four of the masked men hopped on horses themselves and ran after them. The legless bodyguard was still screaming as he clutching his bleeding stump. Publius quickly darted to him and drove both of his swords through the bodyguard's heart. The fighting on the road began to die down, the masked men had slain every guard that Oppius had brought along with him.

Oppius was trembling; he could feel his own blood cascading down his face. "No…"

Publius wiped the blood of the dead off his own face, "What are you to do now, Aulus Oppius? All your men are dead." The masked killers began to encircle the injured governor. He took a look and seemed to count around fifteen of them in all, half of them wielding bows and the other half had swords with reddened blades.

"Wait!" Oppius did not know where he had to strength to blurt that out. It felt as if a furious thunderstorm was cracking between his ears. "Wait! I beg of you! Think of your folly!"

"My folly?"

"Yes," he slurred, the thunderstorm was growing in intensity within his head. "My soldiers have left for Massilia to put down an uprising, when they shall return…" his vision was slowly blackening, "…wh-when they shall return, you shall see deserved end for this heinous crime if you dare kill me!"

Publius' glare was unflinching. "Who told you of this 'uprising'?"

"A courier in the night. Wh-What is that to you?!"

"Hmm, interesting. I believe you refer to this courier?"

A masked man approached in front of Oppius and squatted down, removing the black cloth from his face. It took him a moment to truly see him, his head was throbbing but the sight then struck him with horror. He gasped sharply, even when he was drinking last night; he vaguely remembered this man's features, he delivered him the message. He could hear the other masked men surrounding him begin to laugh.

"You! No…" he tried to stand, yet his legs were weak and his head throbbed violently, he collapsed back into the dirt. "No, no, no… that message was..."

"Fabricated to bring you to me, absent an army. I know the type of man you are. The man who sends the low and downtrodden to accomplish his own selfish desires. You were as such when you marched with Sulla, always commanding from the rear."

The fury of the Thunder God was erupting inside his skull now. "Wh-Who are you people?! What do you want from me?! Do you stand brigands?!"

"An insult to be labeled as such by the likes of you, Aulus Oppius. 'Brigands', hah! We are the wrath of Mars, the scourge of Neptune, the fury of Dis, the justice of Jupiter; we are the reckoning of the Gods. And we shall administer vengeance on all who aided Cornelius Sulla in his tyranny, especially men such as you."

"I-I-If you spare my life, I shall… s-s-see you satisfied by what I can give you!"

Oppius was shaking as he witnessed this man's sinister grin. "I slaughtered your men, sent your legions on a false errand, and you believe you can barter with me?"

"Speak your desire and see it attended!"

"I desire to see you fall from this world. But not yet, for you still harbor a purpose."

One of his men revealed a black bag and chuckled deeply. Oppius shook his head fervently, his pain escaping his mind in lieu of fear. "No! Away from me!" He found some strength to rise to his knees, but two men seized both arms and held him still. "No! No, no, no! I beg you! NO!" He felt the burlap bag drape over his hair and behind his neck, and his vision obscured to darkness as he was dragged away, twisting and blubbering.

Publius took a knee to one of the dead bodyguards, efficiently scrubbing the blood off his two swords using the corpse's cloak. He barked his orders curtly, "Hurry, remove the dead from the area, rake the dirt in erasure of footprints, we must clean this scene before—" A sharp yelp broke his train of thought. He looked up to see the pregnant woman lying meters away shedding tears in front of him, blood coating her face and staining her clothes.

"Gaia, I had forgotten your presence," he said to the woman who quivered in absolute fear. He approached her and gave her a gentle smile and extended his hand towards her, "Oh, Gaia, you played your part to perfection."

Her shivering sobs were all that she could vocally muster. She took his hand and awkwardly stood to her feet, her massive belly prohibiting quick movements.

"Speak, for you have done well." Publius insisted.

She stammered, "I ha-have done wh-wh-what you asked of me. I b-beg of you, allow me to see my husband and my son. Please…"

"Of course, of course. They are close by, truth be told. Bring them out," he ordered his men.

Within two minutes, his men brought forth a tall yet lanky man, his hands shackled and a bag over his head; as well as a young boy who was four years old, he too had his hands bound by rope and his head covered with a bag. The bags were removed and the man's eyes went wide at the sight of her.

"Gaia!" he shouted.

Publius extended a hand, "Be at peace, the blood on your wife is not her own. And your child is safe within her womb. You should be most proud to have a wife who performed her part well in this little "play" of ours."

"Mother!" the young child said.

"Numerius," she said to them, both names of father and son. "I am fine, I am fine," she repeated, her voice quavering.

The boy began weeping at the sight of the bodies, his father shielded his eyes. "A heavy thing to see for the first time." Publius muttered. He looked to the pregnant mother, "Go to your husband and child."

She took off in a dash and fell into the arms of her family. She wept into her husband's chest as he wrapped his shackled arms over her and kissed her forehead tenderly. They muttered to each other in a mix of affection and fear, Publius figured they earned that since being long separated.

"As I said," he spoke to the family, "She has done well in what I desired, it lifts heart to see you three reunited."

Husband and wife looked to one another. The wife spoke unsurely to Publius, "In such a case, are we… are we permitted to leave?"

"I am a man of my word. I told you how I would reunite your family if you aided us. You have and I did. I vowed that I shall not harm you and your family, and I have. But this… No, I cannot permit you to leave."

Hope faded from the couple's eyes. Publius' masked men took a few steps closer to them. The husband's voice was quivering. "W-What…?"

"You stand complicit in this crime of ours. And what is from stopping you to speak to the prefect of a city and inform him of us, now that you are safe? No, you shall accompany us, so we may ensure such silence."

"We vow we shall never speak of this, Publius!" Gaia blurted out. "On Jupiter and Orcus we make this vow!" she sobbed.

He walked to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, "Such is what everyone says, until they are free. Also, my name is not 'Publius'. He looked to his men and nodded firmly. "Bag them."

"Wait, I beg you no—!" shouted the husband. The masked men shoved a brown bag over his head, and separated him from wife and son. "Gaia!" he called out.

"Numerius!" she shrieked, a bag covering her head.

"Mother! Father!" the young son cried. A bag was draped over his head as well.

The family was sobbing, but "Publius" shushed them gently. "Lower thy voices. If you continue to elevate your voice, we shall be forced to silence it. And be at peace, my word still stands. You shall still be together with one another, yet in the inside of a sealed wagon."

Three of his men took each of the family away. Four masked men on horseback galloped from the south road, carrying the reins of several of the escaped horses.

"Publius" gazed at the horses, "Is that all of them?"

"It is, none of them escaped."

"Good. We must erase our presence from this area. Cover or the clean blood from the rode, destroy all traces of that broken wagon and let us take the bodies. No one is to know what happened here."

One of his men approached him and asked, "We shall do so, yet I hold questions. It shall take a moment to move the horse and wagon."

"We have time, because of the Suebi invaders, no one really travels these roads. We have time."

"Alright. My next question then, after this is done, what shall be our next move, Vipera?"

"Our next move shall be the same. We continue with Taurus' plan, I shall head to Massilia, for a day and then we shall travel to Hispania. Everything is falling into place, and we must be ready. For when the time is ready, we shall strike the decadent ones from this world. And the Gods shall rejoice in their suffering."