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Chapter
V
Night marches are treacherous without torch or stars. It is solitary work, and anxiety devours the hours. The hiss of wind-swept trees overpowers the cadence of infantry boots. No one utters a word, not even to their horses. Skipio leads his scouts ahead of the legions. Over a mile ahead, they meet a barricade of towering reeds and foxtails. Insects and amphibians cavort so wildly that their clamor drowns out his pounding heart. Amid the bobtails lurks water, and entering unfamiliar wetland courts…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
VI
Druid society includes seers, mediators, teachers, warriors, and healers, each earning a place in life’s tree through their achievements. Older druids accomplish more, which is why Ostin the Ageless stands above all others, and why Aedan the Ancalite remains on his knees. Father’s owl mask watches from the muddy shore, its upper trim blackened by fire. Fintan, the former Owl King, served as a healer, but he also guided the chieftain with battlefield wisdom. Aedan’s education in all things real and…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
VII
Vibrant tunics blanket the knoll, their owners busy chopping the forest. The harsh sun bakes the skin, leaving the Romans and their Gallic recruits slick with sweat. Muscles aching, the younger men imitate their elders and wrap their foreheads in rags before dusting their hands with more chalk. Each axe swing brings a grunt and the thump of metal on wood, and by midday, their labor silences the rolling ticks of lonely cicadas. Nearby, camp immunes, who are laborers forbidden to fight, keep things…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
VIII
This captive burns hot when he sleeps, never waking, no matter how indelicate a druid’s touch. Here lies the beauty of the falls, the lion from his vision. Aedan’s thumb pushes at an eyelid, revealing a lily pad floating in the white, and its dark center widening with exposure to the light. His smooth skin stinks of cooking fire, and his soft nipples taste of roasted rabbit. He sits upon the strapping prisoner and delights in how the man’s muscular gut feels his bare crack. Cock in hand, he guides…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
IX – The Slaughter Arena
This violent summer is the hottest in memory. Bitch Face, the pretty Roman, covers the dead farmer and her children while his brothers hack away at her barley field. He casts an anxious gaze across the field at the forest. Deep within the trees, Aedan the Owl squats on a high branch, his foot rising so his toe can scratch the itch behind his ear. He watches Bitch Face, whose rage over a slaughtered lover burns hot, and grins. This rare show of emotion unsettles his cadre of most loyal, awaiting him…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
X – The Price of Pain
One calculates a citizen's measure by grading their empathy, benevolence, and financial worth. One measures a soldier’s value by the skill of his kills, his labor, and years in service. Sadly, no rubric exists for a citizen who is also a soldier. Planus ruminates on such things in the shadow of Skipio’s recent brutality, all the while haunted by memories of rescuing him from the sea. That day, Caesar, his leader and kin, sent Planus on a routine inspection of the merchant ships harvesting chalk from…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XI – The Tamesa Encounter
Roman horses smell more of their kind across the river as tension shrinks their nerves. A towering palisade stands along the opposite bank, where an elderly man, favoring his staff, stands on a rampart behind it. Wind lashes at his long white hair, exposing facial cracks that prove him the oldest man on this island. “This is as far as you go, Rome!” Ostin the Ageless shows his grasp of Latin. Caesar, the battle king these natives call Kaiser, yells back, “There will be no turning…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XII – The Gathering
Bloody waters run deep where the Stour meets the Lug. Two hefty rafts cut a path within pink foaming shallows, where intestines wobble as hungry fish peck at their undersides. The well-adorned passengers bring tightly woven rags to their noses, anything to quell the stench. Slimy crimson sand sucks at Aedan’s feet, but what awaits him beyond the trees makes the discomfort worth it. Flies gather like black rain over a dining table made of human bones. Half-skulls sit upon its gruesome ribcage,…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Lucius Vitus Servius once said that rivalry within ranks festers like flesh rot, and if a general ignores it, he’ll lose a man as quickly as a leg. Gaius recalls his old friend’s observation as he watches the murdered man’s son glower at Kombius, a prince of the continental Atrebates. The more concerning bit of flesh rot, however, is Titus Labienus, who listens with jowls tight in resentment as the noble speaks of his time as an Ancalite prisoner. Before their first campaign on the island,…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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Chapter
XIV – The Month of Honey – I
The Bucarati kips upon glossy mudflats. The vessel resembles a timber beetle with its tightly bound sales and dangling oars. It slumbers as men till the wet sands beneath its rudder, digging that will ensure the incoming tide washes her away. Alps-born Romans crowd her surface planks. They wear fur over their shoulders and wool on their extremities. None are clean-shaven, not even their newly minted leader, Lucius Scipio Servius, whose beard shines golden like the short coils on his head. His noble…-
120.7 K • Ongoing
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