The camp of the Thirteenth Legion was gripped by tense calm. Battle could erupt at any moment. So when sentries spotted a patrol returning from the forest—bloodstained, eyes sunken—the news spread like wildfire.
Sextus led the way, Atticus beside him. Titus followed with a wounded arm, but smiling as if he'd just won a bet.
Scaeva stood by the palisade waiting. He didn't ask questions. He just looked.
—Four of ours are dead —Sextus said bluntly—. Germans fell too. At least half their patrol. In the end… they pulled back.
Scaeva blinked. Not from surprise, but from the confirmation of something he had already suspected.
—They retreated?
—Their leader… tall, young, skilled with a spear. He gave the order himself. Looked right at me before doing it. Like he'd seen something.
Scaeva nodded slowly. Then he did what he had to. He walked to the center of camp and approached his superior—a tribune reading beside the fire.
—Urgent report. The patrol sent this morning made contact with enemy scouts. Engaged. Casualties on both sides. The Roman patrol held. The Germans withdrew.
The tribune raised an eyebrow. He set down the scroll, took up a writing tablet, and began noting.
—Are you certain?
—Absolutely. I saw it in Sextus's eyes. And he doesn't shake when he speaks.
The tablet changed hands. A trusted courier carried it to headquarters. At that moment, Caesar was standing over the map, marking positions with Labienus.
When the message arrived, he read it silently.
"Patrol from the XIII. Engaged enemy scouts. Held ground. Germans withdrew."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Caesar looked up.
—The Germans fled? —he asked softly, as if needing to hear it aloud.
—So it seems —Labienus replied, surprised—. And the patrol?
—From the Thirteenth —Caesar murmured—. From the Thirteenth…
He didn't smile. He didn't raise his arms. He simply stood still, face unreadable. But inside, something burned. Pride. Fire. Certainty.
—Let the word spread—but quietly —he ordered—. I want our men to know. And I want theirs to sense it. The forest has already shown them whom they face.
And as the rumor began to ripple silently through the legions, Sextus, once more beside his sharpened gladius, whispered:
—This is only the beginning.