I. The Treatment
The tent smelled of boiled wine, dried blood, and crushed herbs.
Sextus clenched his teeth as the army medic cleaned the wound on his side with a cloth soaked in hot vinegar.
"You can scream if you want," the medic said without looking up. "Some do. Even tribunes."
Sextus said nothing. He just stared at the canvas ceiling. The battle still echoed in his ears.
When the medic finished bandaging him, he placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You're still in one piece. That's more than many can say this morning."
Sextus stepped down from the campaign bench with effort. Everything hurt. But he could walk. He could think. And nothing felt over yet.
"Where's Titus?" he asked.
"The madman with the axe? In the cell. They called it insubordination. Though many say if he hadn't charged like that, you'd all be dead.""Then I need to see him."
II. The Cell
The camp prison was nothing more than a fenced area of stakes with two tents. Even so, it had guards. One of them hesitated to let Sextus through.
"Optio or not, he's under punishment. No visits without the centurion or tribune's permission."
"And what if I'm the man he saved?"
The guard didn't know what to say. He signaled to another, who lifted the tent flap.
Inside, Titus was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, back against a post. He had a black eye and a crooked grin.
"Here to scold me or thank me?" he asked.
"Depends. Do you know when not to break formation?"
"I knew it was the right time. Or I felt it. Or… the wind told me. Who knows?"
Sextus stared in silence.
"You're insubordinate," he finally said. "And also the only one who ran when he had to."
"Luck," Titus replied. "Or instinct. Either way, it worked."
"That's what worries me."
They both chuckled softly.
"Sextus," Titus added, lowering his voice. "Do you know what's going to happen to us?"
"No. But I'll know soon."
III. Labienus' Decision
The central camp was silence and maps. There, in the largest tent, Titus Labienus listened to a messenger from the north.
"Some Helvetian chiefs escaped during the chaos. We believe they're hiding with scattered bands. Caesar fears they plan to regroup beyond the river."
"And what does Caesar want?" Labienus asked.
"To capture them. Or eliminate them. Before they spark rebellion in the rear."
Tribune Fonteius, standing nearby, crossed his arms.
"There's a young man in the XIII. An optio. Fought like ten. I saw it myself. His name is Sextus."
Labienus nodded.
"Can he lead?"
"He already does," Fonteius replied. "He just doesn't know it yet."
Later, when Sextus entered the tent, still bandaged, Labienus observed him silently for a moment.
"They say you survived everything. And that your men would follow you again if you gave the word.Is it true?"
"I don't know," Sextus replied. "But they didn't let me die."
Labienus handed him a small sealed scroll.
"You have a mission. Hunt the escapees. Quietly. Quickly. You may choose someone to accompany you."
Sextus didn't hesitate.
"Titus. The rebel."
Labienus raised an eyebrow. Fonteius smiled.
"The one in custody?"
"The same. He's got something. And luck walks with him."
"Then let him go with you. But remember: luck or not, if you fail… there won't be a second chance."
Sextus nodded. And in that gesture, he became something more than a soldier.