[Hispania Ulterior, near Corduba, 64 BCE]
The morning sun burned weakly through the thin mist that clung to the hills outside the fort. Valerian and Atticus, each carrying a pack and their gladius sheathed at their side, trod carefully along the dirt road that wound between scrubby oaks and jagged rocks.
The patrol's mission was clear: secure the road between the fort and the surrounding farmsteads. They were to be vigilant for any hostile moves from the independent and semi-independent tribes, including the Turdetani, Celtiberians, Iberians and others.
Rome often tolerated the independent and semi-independent tribes if they didn't threaten Roman roads or tax revenue. Patrols ensured compliance.
Valerian slowed his pace, feigning interest in a cluster of rocks. The double rations he'd received yesterday, his first Two-Fold System payout, had been safely stashed in the hands of the gods and he can receive it from them at any tine he so desired.
He'd only given Consus the usual "tribute" from his own supplies which was neccery to his next move "Atticus, let's rest a while. I'm spent."
Atticus shot him a look of pure moral disdain. "Spent? We can't rest, Valerian. If you don't keep pace, I will report you to Decanus Tiberius the moment we return." He kept his eyes fixed ahead on the path.
Valerian gave him a lazy, knowing smile. "Come now, Atticus. Don't treat me like that. We're going to be together for a very long time, you and I. We should be friends."
Atticus stopped dead, the sight of Valerian's smug, unearned confidence finally breaking his composure. He spun around, his voice raw with contempt. "friends? You are a coward! You handed Consus your food this morning, you saw Gaius steal mine last night, and you stood silent! You said nothing! They're crushing us, and you pay them tribute like a slave!"
Valerian let the accusation hang in the air, then lowered his voice. "And what did reporting Gaius earn you, Atticus? Did it give you back your supplies? Did the Decanus punish his friends?" Valerian stepped closer. "No. It just painted a target on your back."
Atticus looked away, unable to refute this. Valerian's words had struck him where he was most vulnerable. Not only had he failed to get justice from Decanus Tiberius and lacked the strength to challenge Gaius, but he had earned a target on his back. He had clung to the belief that if the other new recruits, like Valerian, had joined him, the Decanus wouldn't be able to turn a blind eye.
Valerian, sensing Atticus's still unwilling to accept the truth continued further "What, still don't believe me? Fine. Let's go back together right now and report to the Decanus. But understand this: it'll be our words, the two of us, against the six others."
"Six?" Atticus's head snapped up.
"Yes. Or do you believe Amulius will be brave enough to talk? Or Felix? He's already one of them, thanks to his half-brother, Marcus. The only ally you have in that tent, Atticus is me."
Atticus stared at the ground. He was ashamed, realizing Valerian was absolutely right. He was isolated, and he had treated the one man who saw his plight horribly.
"You are right," Atticus whispered, his voice heavy with defeat. "I was blind. Please forgive me, Valerian."
"Forgiveness is easy to give, Atticus, but meaningless here." He paused, letting the wind carry the sounds of the distant camp. "We only have each other to rely on now. That is a fact. And I will be relying on you." Valerian smiled and extended his hand.
Atticus looked at the hand, then took it. "Then I will be counting on you as well friend," he affirmed.
Valerian continued smiling and nodded repeatedly. "Then come and sit down, because I'm truly spent."
Atticus looked around quickly, then dropped his pack and sat down next to Valerian. He immediately reached into his own sarcin and pulled out a generous portion of dried meat, extending it to Valerian.
"Here," Atticus said, pushing the food forward. "You can't protect my back if you become scrawny. I owe you."
Valerian kept his smile genuine but shook his head. "Thank you, but I don't need yours. I have more than enough meat myself."
Atticus frowned. "What are you talking about? I saw you give most of your rations to that bastard Consus this morning! There's nothing left in your pack but wheat and Cheese."
Valerian met his gaze, his eyes glinting. He leaned close. "Tell me, Atticus, do you want to see a magic trick?"
Atticus hesitated, staring at Valerian with a mixture of fear and wonder. "A magic trick?"
Valerian let his grin widen. "Observe closely, Atticus. Look here." He slowly spread his hands, palms up, showing them clearly empty, just dirt and calluses. focusing on of the System.
[RETRIEVAL COMPLETE: 20 PIECES OF DRIED MEAT.]
Valerian snapped his hands shut, then opened them with a sharp, practiced flourish.
Where moments before there was nothing, twenty dense, dark pieces of dried meat now sat impossibly stacked in his open palms. The rations were cold and clean, totally unlike the warm, gritty supplies in their packs.
Atticus gasped, scrambling backward on the dusty road until his back hit his pack. His eyes, wide with disbelief, flickered between the pile of meat and Valerian's calm, smiling face.
Valerian tossed a piece of the meat into the air, catching it easily. "Let's call it a gift from the gods, Atticus. A man who relies on magic never shares the ritual."
Atticus pointed a trembling finger at the meat in Valerian's hand. "Then... the supplies you gave Consus?"
"No," Valerian answered with a slight smirk. "They simply weren't mine."
Atticus leaned forward, suspicion replacing awe. "You stole them? From who?"
Valerian just ate the dried meat slowly, meeting Atticus's gaze. "Someone who won't miss them," he said, the implication hanging heavy in the air. "The point, Atticus, is that I never run out. And now, neither will you. The rules of the contubernium don't apply to us, only to them"