During the afternoon siege of the garrison fort taken by the rebels, Commius had left his post under the pretext of retrieving a tribal trinket—a lucky charm of sorts, back at camp.
However, he'd found himself in an altercation with the Praefect's slaves—an argument that flared into violence. In the scuffle's wake, one lay dead: Alexios's sick slave.
Unwilling to face the consequences, Commius spun a web of lies. He claimed the young man had died of fever, bribing the medicos to keep silent. Yet, somehow, Alexios still found out.
How? The possibilities were many—perhaps Hoplite, the witness, had spoken. Perhaps another had seen what Commius thought hidden. Or perhaps the Prefect's own mind—sharp as a blade honed by decades in command—had simply known.
Now, under that same mind's scrutiny, Commius felt trapped, and he understood, at last, that lying further would only hasten his death.
With that realization, he sank to his knees and bowed deeply.
"Forgive me, Great Prefect," He said, voice trembling.
"With the heat of battle in my veins, I lost control when your slave insulted me. Your eyes truly see all. I confess to this disgraceful act—but I beg your mercy."
At this, Alexios's gaze narrowed hard—probing and searching for deceit. When he found none, he exhaled quietly and looked away.
"You are fortunate you spoke to truth. Your punishment would have been gruesome, otherwise. Imagine bribing my medicos. The gall of you…"
He sighed again, weary.
"Yet that gall," He muttered, "is why I recruited you months ago."
Seeing Commius still bowed, Alexios's features softened ever so slightly.
"Very well. I will allow you to redeem yourself."
The words struck Commius like a rope tossed to a man slipping from a cliff.
"Lucky for you, Centurio Vibius—my late Centurio Princeps—would have hated for me to enact the poena culli upon his Optio," Alexios mused, considering. "It would also be a waste to lose your—talent for battle."
He paused, eyes heavy with restrained judgment.
"Finally, given that my slave still draws breath, I will have your punishment voided."
Commius exhaled sharply with a smile, relief flooding through him.
Noticing his fleeting smile, Alexios smirked faintly.
"On one condition."
The smile froze on Commius's face.
Alexios reached for a parchment, scanning its lines as he spoke deliberately.
"You must be first on that wall tomorrow. I will not risk freeing the slave—should he truly be the son of Mars, and he dies, then so be it. If he survives, I will call it divine favor and bind him tighter to my service. Such a being—daemon or demigod—would be useful to my name."
Commius's eyes darkened as he nodded in understanding, a cruel grin spreading across his face.
Alexios, seeing this, relaxed slightly.
"Good," The Praefect murmured. "Now that you owe me your life, I believe I can trust you with certain matters."
He leaned back in his chair, the lamplight tracing sharp lines along his scarred jaw.
"Depending on your performance tomorrow, a promotion can be arranged."
Commius' head snapped up, a blend of hope and surprise gleaming within his eyes.
Alexios continued, tone smooth as marble.
"A patrician arrives tomorrow afternoon. Should your deeds bring me pride, I may even coax him to grant you the Corona Muralis—the Golden Mural Crown. One of Rome's highest honors for valor."
For a moment, Commius forgot to breathe. His mouth twitched open in disbelief, then snapped shut again, his composure struggling to keep pace with his vanity.
"A… patrician, Lord Praefect?" He asked carefully.
Alexios's mouth curved with self-satisfaction.
"The new Provincial Governor of the eastern province."
Commius's eyes widened.
"You don't mean—of that place. The rumored province beyond the Golden Gate, the—"
"Lord Praefect!"
The shout cut him short, and both men turned toward the tent flap, startled.
"The pedite Kotys, son of Medokos, seeks audience!" came the guard's voice.
Alexios exchanged a brief glance with Commius, then gestured lazily.
"Allow him."
Kotys entered, offering a crisp salute. "Lord Praefect. Optio Commius."
Alexios nodded, and Commius grunted faintly in response.
"How fares the son of Mars, Kotys?" Alexios asked with a faint, sardonic wave of his hand.
"I sent you because you are observant, and as smart as your father. He also seems strangely sympathetic toward you."
He leaned forward, curiosity glinting beneath his calm exterior.
"So tell me—what is he?"
Kotys met his gaze evenly.
"He is not the slave who died, nor a daemon like what Chief Centurion Vibius became."
At that, Alexios's brow furrowed in pain, the memory flickering behind his eyes. Kotys hesitated, but pressed on.
"As for divinity—I cannot say. But he is willing to fight with us tomorrow. He even asked for my arms, to train through the night."
Commius's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Did you give them to him?!" He barked, half rising.
Kotys wiped away the flecks of spit from his face, unamused.
"No. As Lord Praefect said, I am smart. I came first for permission."
Commius let out a sharp, embarrassed sigh, prompting a faint smirk from Kotys.
Alexios sat back, thoughtful.
"Did he ask for anything else?"
"He sought food, Lord Praefect. He appeared starved."
Alexios's mouth tilted upward.
"He has human needs, then. Good. Give him what he requires."
Kotys blinked. "The food or my weapons?"
"Both."
The answer struck Commius like a spear to the gut.
"B-but, Lord Praefect! Is that wise?"
Alexios's smirk deepened. "Do you trust him, Kotys?"
Kotys frowned, torn between honesty and caution. "I do not think he would harm us."
"Then it is decided," Alexios said smoothly. "However, have my first cavalry commander, Decurio Segimerus, stand ready. He holds the night watch."
Kotys's eyes widened.
"Horse-master Segi?" He blurted, awe slipping through his discipline. "I—I mean—yes, Lord Praefect."
Alexios waved him off. "You may go."
Kotys bowed, turned, and departed beneath their stares—Alexios's calculating, Commius's uneasy.
Once the flap fell closed, Alexios glanced at Commius.
"You need not fret, Commius. He won't be first on that wall if you do what I say. And if he dies tomorrow, he dies. If he lives—then he remains my slave. Either way, I only profit from this."
He reached for a scroll, eyes glinting in the dim light.
"I need every advantage I can afford. The governor must not arrive to find that garrison still under rebel control."
Commius hesitated, then asked softly, "Is there… a particular reason, Lord Praefect?"
Alexios glanced down from the scroll, gaze considering him before revealing.
"The rebel chieftain possesses something the governor wants—a scroll. Retrieve it, if you can, and you will be rewarded... But under no circumstance are you to read it." His eyes glinted sharply in warning.
"That is all I can tell you. Now go. It has been a long day, and a taxing morning awaits."
Commius bowed low.
"Thank you, Lord Praefect. I am in your eternal debt."
Alexios grunted, already returning to his parchments.
Commius straightened and slipped out into the night, his footfalls steadily fading away.