The terrain rose gradually. The sun beat down mercilessly on helmets and breastplates, and the dust of the road clung to their skin like a second layer of punishment.
The XIII Gemina had been marching for hours, with the steady pace of those who knew the enemy was near. Scouts came and went like shadows among the trees. Scaeva walked at the front, not complaining, though he occasionally touched his bandaged side. Atticus stayed close to Sextus.
The silence was tense. It was only broken by the crunch of sandals on dry soil or the distant hum of insects.
"We're getting close," Atticus said, more to himself than anyone else.
Sextus didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the crest of the hill ahead. It wasn't high, but just enough to hide what lay beyond. The terrain was ideal for defense: wide visibility, moderate slope, firm ground. If he were Helvetian, he'd have camped there.
When they reached the top, no one shouted. There was only the sound of dozens of soldiers stopping at once. Some squinted. Others swallowed hard.
The Helvetian army was there.
Camped at the foot of Bibracte, in a wide valley surrounded by trees, were thousands of men. More than Sextus had ever seen gathered in one place. They looked like a still sea of spears, rough fabric banners, and dark wooden shields. Women and children clustered in the center, near the wagons. An entire people, determined not to surrender.
"By the gods…" a legionary behind him muttered.
Sextus said nothing. He just watched. Measured distances. Assessed the ground. Learned.
Scaeva stopped beside him.
"Do you see it?"
"Yes."
"Are you afraid?"
"Of course," Sextus replied. "But it doesn't paralyze me anymore."
The centurion smirked with a twisted grin. Then looked toward the horizon.
"Then get ready. Because what's coming isn't a skirmish. It's real war."
Just then, a rider came down from the rear, carrying a sealed scroll. He handed it to Scaeva, who broke it open without ceremony. He read it in silence.
"Orders from Caesar," he said. "We camp here. We regroup. The attack comes at dawn."
Sextus felt the weight settle on his body. Not from fatigue. But from certainty.
Tomorrow, everything would be decided.