Joan had started the cleanup efforts. Men and boys from the city passed buckets of sand and water to extinguish the flames. Others were loading the bodies into carts to be burned or taken south to their home provinces. Several armored soldiers with red crosses on their shields stood around the body of the Old God with several Vencian Knights. Vespasian heard people call them the Legion of Aiden, but he did not know who they were.
As he watched the workers, Vespasian noticed for the first time how unusually hot the day was. He pulled the heavy winter coat Howlen had given him off and felt the chill as the wind hit his sweat soaked shirt.
“Watch out, boy!” One of the men carrying a body shouted at Vespasian before nearly crashing into him. Vespasian stumbled out of their way and tripped over another body. He caught himself with a large step, but the sand was unsteady. His foot slipped and he hit the ground, face first. A large hand gripped his collar. Another grabbed his arm and the stranger lifted Vespasian to his feet with ease.
“Otto!” Vespasian shouted, happy for a moment to see a familiar face. Worm, he pulled back, remembering.
“I saw what you did, Worm. Sure was something. These cowards hid behind.their walls. They should move for you.” Otto shoved one of two men carrying a body. The both toppled over. “This man saved your city while you cowered! You owe your life to him!”
“Vespasian.” Vespasian tried to say it clearly, but he managed only a broken whisper.
“What?” Otto said.
“It’s not Worm. My name is Vespasian. Vespasian Flavia.”
Otto nodded, simply. His expression changed, as if he just remembered something. Brennus. “Where’s, um. Why are you alone here?”
Otto let out a long, pained breath and looked south. “How did you end up here?” Otto asked.
“Your Urzoth sold me at Fort Annius. They traded me in to slavery for dead dogs. Then I was sold to Druids and–” Vespasian trailed off, unsure where he was going. I'm back to this. I can't even talk anymore.
Otto chuckled in a desperate sort of way. “Sorry. The misery is uh, well, relatable. You know you’re lucky, right? The rest of us are dead. The unlucky ones were captured by the Novissime. There is a group though, about a dozen, probably back in the Tuculli by now. Or Vencia. I don't know.”
“Are you going back there?”
Otto didn't answer. Vespasian thought for a moment that his question hadn't made sense. He looked into Otto's eyes and knew the silence had come from some deep pain. He recognized the look.
Vespasian was quiet, too. He did not want to go back to the Tuculli, back with those Urzoth. What choice did he have? Howlen had left and didn’t want to be followed, he was sure. I have nowhere else to go.
“You shouldn’t come back with us, though. There is no future for the Urzoth.” Otto said.
The honesty caught Vespasian off guard. Before Otto could say more, four men of the Legion of Aiden came to them.
“Excuse me, sir. I am Quintus Drusus, Saint of Aiden and head of the Legion of Aiden. We watched you from the city and would like to commend you for your efforts. It was an incredible display. The city and the world thanks you.” Drusus extended a hand to Otto.
Otto let it hang in the air. “City and the world? Not the empire?”
Drusus kept his hand extended. “The Novissime is no more. The city of Joan exists under the guidance of Augustine. Our sovereignty will be preserved by the Legion of Aiden. Vencia and Calor have declared their independence as well. We've no word from The Bryer. Adrianople and Oram are destroyed. If they rebuild, they will be independent too. In this time we, the Legion of Aiden, look to maintain peace, but not the empire.”
Otto gripped Drusus's hand. “It’s a good day then. But, to be honest, I just came here to die, so maybe not that good.”
“The people are calling you the Urzoth Giant, the savior of Joan. If you would stay, sir, we would like to honor you in front of the people.”
“No.” Otto shook his head and shoved Vespasian forward. "This, though, is a hero for you. I witnessed Vespasian Flavia, here, defend and deliver the man who killed the Old God. Without him I don’t think any of us would be celebrating now.”
Vespasian didn’t speak. He didn't feel his familiar nervousness, he only felt the coldness of another reeve on his wet shirt.
“As you say. The smoke blocked our view for much of the battle, but if you say it, it is so. Vespasian, was it?"
Vespasian nodded.
"Please, sir, I would be honored if you join us in the Great Hall this evening.”
Vespasian nodded and Drusus led the men away. The suddenness with which they left almost hurt. I'm sure they are more than a little disappointed. They had come for Otto, the Urzoth Giant, and had to settle for Vespasian the worm.
He turned to Otto, who was already walking away, “That’s it then, Vespasian. It was good to know you. Best of luck, and," Otto looked back over his shoulder, "trust them as much as you trusted us.”
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Otto was a fair distance away before Vespasian could form any words. Vespasian stood still and watched Otto disappear in the crowd. He looked to the Legion of Aiden as they worked to remove pieces of the strange black armor from the Old God.
He watched in silence for a time, thinking of his future. He did not quite believe it would be as bright as it seemed. As he thought, Alexander came to him with an old strange smelling man in black robes. “Is this the young man?” The old Druid asked Alexander.
“Yes, this is Vespasian.”
“Sir, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Elisor. The leader, of sorts, of the Druids. Well, that is to say I am the oldest among them. When you get a chance, Mister Vespasian, please join us on Vencia at the Broch outside Haven. I would love to hear your retelling of the journey. I understand you were a crucial part in our success.” Elisor pushed his hood back revealing his bright green eyes.
Vespasian was drawn to them. The image of that glowing sphere in the cave flashed through his mind. He collected himself and asked the only question he could find, “You knew Howlen?”
“Why, yes. Indeed I did.”
“He didn’t like you.”
Elisor sighed. “Yes, I am afraid at this time he is, well– In time, we hope he will come to see the necessity of what has transpired. He saved the world.”
Vespasian knew why Howlen did not like this man. He felt dirty, dangerous, but he was right.
“Do you know, Vespasian, where Howlen might have gone? Did he give any hint?” Elisor asked.
Vespasian could think of nothing, and stayed silent for a time. The two Druids were quiet with him. “His son. He said he wanted to see his son again. I don’t know, though.”
Elisor’s face dropped, even Alexander noticed the change. “Yes. Thank you, Vespasian. Know that our offer will always stand. You will forever have a home at the Broch.”
***
Later that evening, Sculla and Vespasian stood alone in Joan's Great Hall. Vespasian felt Sculla's eyes on him, as if the old man wanted him to speak first, but Vespasian just stood and fiddled with a tassel of his new robe. A door opened with a creek and a slam. The two turned as the click of Augustine's steps filled the room.
The night was near, the battle waged earlier in the day was won and cleanup had paused for Augustine's speech. Joan's citizens had time to return to their homes or see the Old God's body on the shore.
Augustine stood as he did before on the balcony of the throne room, now flanked on his left by Saint Drusus, Saint Vespasian and a line of twelve Legion of Aiden soldiers. To his right, a row of Vencian knights. No Druids were present. Marcus Sculla stayed back, out of sight of the crowd below.
"Good Children of Aiden, as promised, our faith has saved us. Our faith has delivered us through the efforts of these men. The heroism of these Knights of the North who took to the shore and engaged the enemy, under the protection of our collective faith. And the Legion of Aiden, who watched over the city in our time of peril and defended our walls. Together, they helped overcome the greatest threat ever known to man. But the killing blow could not have been made without the efforts of one man." Vespasian stepped forward on his cue. "Vespasian Flavia, descendant of the honorable freedom fighters of The Bryer, who were massacred by the evil Novisimme so many years ago. He who survived the untold terrors of the monstrous Nu and who suffered in exile with the Urzoth barbarians. Vespasian delivered the mysterious figure, the Hero of Joan, The God Slayer, to the very foot of the monster. He rode alone to save our city, risking his life for each of yours. Good men and women of Joan, good Children of Aiden, I give to you, Saint Vespasian!"
The crowd erupted as Vespasian waved. That empty, broken feeling caught him, like a weight somewhere in his gut. He felt himself rise with the adoration, but that part of him was unmoved; bound to his past. They believe it. They think I'm a hero. I might even believe it too. They are wrong, but what is the difference now? Have I ever known anyone that was truly right in what they thought and did? Were the Nu right in their ways? The Urzoth who shunned and sold me? Or my family? What is the difference? I'm not a hero. It's not true, but maybe there is no truth. Vespasian thought as he stepped back.
"In honor of the Vencian Knights' heroic efforts, The Free City of Joan will henceforth recognize the sovereignty of Consul Helena of Vencia, now and forever known as Queen Helena the first, and the independence of the Vencian Isle. May our people grow strong with each other's aid. And to honor the fallen, those taken by the Old God and those who died in the battle, we will henceforth know the stretch of water separating our shore and that of Vencia, given the name Caspian by the ancient evil Novissime, as the Dead Sea. The waters to the east, west and north will now be known as the Vencian Sea, and be under the rule of Vencia. May all maps be corrected to reflect this truth. As we rebuild and grow in to this new era, remember, your faith has saved us today. And if we hold on to it, we will be the light of this new era. Keep faith in the Spirit of Aiden." Augustine bowed and departed, followed by Saints Vespasian and Drusus, then the Legion of Aiden and lastly the Knights of Vencia.
***
Back inside, Sculla trailed behind with Vespasian. Augustine led the others away, reveling in his successful speech and new position in life. When they were alone, Sculla turned to the little man.
"Congratulations, Mister Flavia. And again, I truly thank you."
"Vespasian." The simple answer caught Sculla, but he did not react.
"Sure. Saint Vespasian. I understand you have lived quite a life, and now?"
Vespasian did not answer right away. He did not look away either. Sculla met his curious stare with a smile, but he could not quite understand it. After a time, Vespasian broke the silence. "What are you doing?" He motioned to his robe and back to the people, then to the large red crosses that festooned the throne room. "What is all this? Children of Aiden? The old emperor?"
Sculla waited. He wondered if an answer would be worth the effort; if his work and the purpose could even truly fit in the confines of words. He knew silence was not enough, and the man in front of him held a station demanding the respect of an answer. "Its for them."
Vespasian shook his head slightly.
"The world, at least this part of it, has existed under a single banner for a long time. The Novissime. Yet within that framework they were divided. They fractured into regions, then smaller groups divided by wealth and other things. Then those groups broke down into isolated individuals. Do you understand?" He did not wait for an answer. "Now, it occurred to me, some time ago, that it is not enough to merely provide a banner for people to follow, but the people also require a compulsion to follow the banner. As the world crumbled, and the Old God returned, I took action." Sculla waved a hand to the robe and the banner. "Despite some unforseen difficulties, I managed to spin this from nothing. For them."
"Why?"
The simple honesty of the question appealed to Sculla. He did not know if Vespasian understood him, but he had enjoyed saying the words, nonetheless. Sculla smiled and looked at the newest Saint.
He answered the simple, honest question with a simple and honest response. "I aim to live in a world I understand."