Aranus thought that was it. His last day on earth.

The centurion had sat in front of him again, eyes fixed, and had told him he was going to die.

“So be it,” Aranus had said, between defiant and resigned to face his final destiny.

The centurion did not like that response. He slapped him again, making his head turn and the bones of his neck clank.

“If I die,” Aranus muttered through the pain. “Your men will die. The women will not be in peace. Vengeance will triumph.”

“What a joke. What can a group of women do against the Legion that is keeping the world in place? That will only mean more deaths on their side,” the centurion scoffed and stood up.

The centurion sat back in the corner without saying another word, and he leaned his head back and yawned. His comrade had fallen asleep sitting next to Aranus, but Aranus could not sleep. The pain still pulsated through his chest and abdomen, through his tied wrists.

But the lamps went off, the centurion lay down over the old couch and started snoring immediately. Aranus closed his eyes again.

His spirit anguished, but not for physical pain. He felt the weight of a hundred innocent men dying. Their limbs torn, their blood splattered. He envisioned their souls ascending to the abode of the fallen.

While their women mourned around him.

What was all that for? What had the gods planned? Was that the end of his people? Was that the destiny they had prepared for them?

As the hours went by, Aranus’ mind became more restless. He begged the gods for clarity, for a vision. He had been preserved for a reason which he could not fathom.

And suddenly, he heard the clanking of metal armour approach, slow steps in the darkness, and the faint reflection of steel armour.

The figure approached slowly, and Aranus looked up, mind blank.

The figure knelt in front of him, reached for his bound arms and untied them. Aranus felt the soft relief of his wrists being released, then his torso.

At his side, the centurion woke from his slumber for an instant, and lifted his body, mumbling something.

The figure spoke softly. “Got to tie him up again, it was all loose.”

The centurion shut his eyes, to fade to black again.

After the man had released him. He ordered Aranus to follow him outside. Aranus felt that his strength had left him. His liberator extended a hand and helped him out of the house, where the moon shone like a silver sun, almost full, and a cold wind made him shiver and clench his teeth.

The soldier quickly covered Aranus’ shoulders with a long coat.

“Come this way!” the soldier announced, guiding him down the stairs. He looked way taller than before, and his accent was not Itruschian.

Aranus followed him down, out from the dark city streets, into the dark grove.

“We're not far,” the armoured man said. Aranus noticed that the helmet fit him a little too big. His shoulder pads were loose, and the skirt of his tunic was quite short.

“Where are you taking me?” Aranus asked.

“To freedom.”

As Aranus walked out of the path, he noticed a human body in underwear. It contorted quietly, shivering. It was the soldier that was guarding the entrance before; now, his face was muffled, and his wrists were tied. He felt pity as the man trembled under the freezing moon.

As they walked into a sloppy clearing, Aranus noticed a hooded figure kneeling before a small fire fed by sticks and fallen branches.

“Sit there,” the soldier said in his familiar voice, and Aranus sat with crossed legs in front of the fire. The soldier removed his helmet. It was Kassius, with a protective stave on his forehead.

“Ala, I told you the sigil would work.”

“By the Morningstar,” the hooded person responded with a girly voice. “I almost died waiting in here. I’m so happy you made it.”

Aranus smiled, looking at his grandson.

“So it was you?”

“Grandfather!” Kassius also revealed a wide smile when he looked back at him. Then, he pointed at the girl. “Meet my wife,” Kassius pointed at the hooded figure.

“I'm not your wife.” The girl uncovered her head, blond hair like a sunflower at dusk. It was the goldsmith's daughter.

“Well, you better keep telling them you are, or they're gonna catch you,” Kassius said.

“It's not as if they're not trying already,” she muttered.

“Kasha,” Aranus said, unable to hide his smile. “It's you. What in the world are you doing here?” Aranus asked.

“We needed to free you,” Kassius said, squatting next to the fire. In the segmented iron armour, he looked exactly like his father

“Let me see your wrists,” The girl reached for Aranus’ hands. Aranus himself had not seen them, but the dim pain had prevailed. The skin of his wrists was lacerated, revealing red spots of peeled skin.

“We've got to take care of this,” she said, holding his hand with her cold fingers.

“I am fine.” He retracted his hand. “I am glad to see you both, that you are fine and alive. But I have to go back. If I don't, this may be catastrophic.”

“But grandfather,” Kassius said. “We cannot let them hurt you.”

“Kassius. It’s not the time. I must protect our people.”

Kassius swallowed and looked at the ground.

“But he is hurting you, Grandfather. I… I cannot allow that,” he said.

“You must leave me. I love seeing you. I know you have become a great man and that the gods are favouring you. I feel it in my bones. What are you looking for, Kasha?” Aranus looked at Kassius in the eye. “What can I tell you that you need to know?”

“Grandfather... Alana and I...”

“Are you getting married?”

“Yes. I mean. No... But we have to pretend...”

“Kasha! Don't waste more time,” Alana said. “Tell him what we need to talk about.” The blonde girl’s face was as red as an apple.

“Fine.” Kassius cleared his throat. “Yes, so...”

Alana interrupted Kassius' speech and sat in front of him. She was eager to ask.

“I was with the women who were captured this morning,” she said. “I heard you talk about the Sword of Ares, and of the Sun of Ares. That it is coming. We want to find the sword.”

“The sword...” Aranus' eyes opened wide.

“Yes!” Kassius said. “Where can we find it?”

“The sword...” Aranus’ mind wandered. Myriad images passed through his soul so quickly he could not grasp them. A powerful energy took over his soul, and he spoke. “What once was may return. The fire may burn, and the war for the future will begin in these very woods. Here!” He stated, he shook his head, as the realization had come too quickly.

He remembered the prophecy. He remembered when he heard the words of the Oracle of Venus fifteen years before. But what was the Goddess fearing? Had it been the massacre of his people? What did those words mean?

He remembered and he shuddered. It was all coming together, reflecting inescapable destiny.

“What does it mean? Please, Elder, speak clearly to us,” Alana begged.

Aranus reached for the girl's pale and cold hand as well as Kassius' calloused fingers. He joined them together.

“The Sword of Ares is in this land. Our race crossed these woods before its journey. It's secrets permeate this world. What once was has become again, and so it will. If I am correct, it lies in the entrails of the earth. You must find it.”

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The girl shook her head, as if in disbelief.

Aranus blinked.

“Kassius. I cannot say any more. My dreams overwhelm me. I am confused. But... Look for the sacred texts and the gates to the entrails of the earth. They have the answer.”

“Texts?” The girl raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that something Itruschians and Parzhians do? We Gadalians don't text.”

“You are right,” Aranus said. “But that is precisely our problem. We have forgotten. We have forgotten our origin. We do not even know the gods. Dreams and visions may come to me, but their meaning is foggy, for my knowledge is incomplete. Even the Itruschians, the Mudrayans, they have forgotten who they are. Even the memory of the gods. Our cosmic gods, the legends inherited, sometimes the figures of the gods mix, we do not know which is which, where is the All-father, who is the Rider of the Chariots of the Sky, which of the gods of the legends is the Red Sun, who is the Green Sun?”

“But what about the texts?” Kassius asked. “Where did they come from? You know Gadalians don’t write. Or they haven’t done it for some time.”

“These texts were recited to a half-breed, a century ago. They have the record of our forefathers, and the legends thereof. They are written in Hellenian, which you know, I believe.”

“Where are they?” Kassius asked solemnly.

“They lie underneath the temple. They will tell you all you need to know. Look for the sacred texts. It is as close as you will get to the answer you are looking for.”

“Use your clairvoyance! Please.”

“The gods have called you; of that I have no doubt. Of where the Sword is, I cannot tell.”

“Tell us about the sword,” Alana said. “Please explain it to us.”

“What do you want to know?” Aranus muttered.

Alana had a hand on her face.

“That means he came here... To Adachia...” she said.

“I believe so, yes,” Aranus answered. “It was one of the reasons the gods led me to these lands to settle after the war. But make no mistake, that battle was fought all across the land. Down here and up in the sky.”

“I have heard about it. But… Here? How far should we travel to find it? Elder… What do you see? Are we going to find it? Please ask in visions. Please tell us whether it’s us.”

Aranus closed his eyes tightly. He prayed to receive clarity. A flash of understanding. But nothing came to him. Nothing clear.

image [https://i.ibb.co/ZHGmCPs/alana-and-kassius-again.png]

“I have been moved to say that it will be found. But that is all I know,” he said.

“Then we have to look for those texts, you say? From the sanctuary?” Kassius raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, in them you shall find the legends and the words.”

He looked around as a sense of danger overwhelmed him.

“Kasha. Let’s get back,” Aranus said. “The centurion may wake up at any time.”

“But grandfather...”

“Kassius, he is right,” Alana said.

“Please, my son,” Aranus continued. “If they find out I am out of the house, things may go wrong for you two. And for many more.”

Kassius dropped to his knees, then lunged forward and hugged his grandfather tightly. He pressed his cheek against his long white hair.

“I do not want to lose you. This… This has to stop.”

“Be calm,” Aranus held his hand onto his grandson’s armoured back. “The gods know the path. They have preserved both of you. Now, you must stand together. As brave as you have been, you must remain.”

“Grandfather… Please, stay with us.”

Kassius shut his eyes, holding the tears. He released his grandfather and stood up, helping him to his feet.

“I may see you later. But now, it is dangerous!” Aranus said. Then, he faced Alana again. “And you, brave girl. You remind me of your mother.”

“My mother?” Alana asked.

“Yes. Ileria, how can I forget her? She was a great warrior.”

Alana sighed.

“That’s one of the reasons my father doesn’t like to talk about her,” Alana said, opening her eyes wide.

“He loved her with all his soul,” Aranus said.

“I bet he did. He can’t even get himself to talk about it. He hasn’t gone over it even after fifteen years.”

The girl’s eyes shifted away from him in a sudden burst of sadness. Aranus could be sure Alan had also died the day before.

“She would be proud of you both. They both would.”

“So did you know my mother well?” Alana raised her head, then wiped the tears on her cheeks.

“Of course I did. I joined them in marriage. I blessed you when you were born. I officiated your mother’s funeral.”

“You buried her weapons?”

“I did?”

“W-what was her favourite?”

“She fought even after marriage, which is unusual, leading a company of mounted lancers. Her circumstances were special. But she liked swords. She preferred to wield two lunar blades Alan had made for her.”

“I heard that, that she was still fighting before she had me,” Alana said with a melancholic smile. “So a lunar blade, that means he made a dragonblade for himself, and a lunar blade for her.”

“Yes.” Aranus sighed. He looked at the sky through the trees, and the forest below. The sun would come out shortly. “Well, it’s been a pleasure to see you. Let us not waste more time.”

“Let’s go,” Kassius said, he put the helmet on and walked into the forest, and Alana followed them closely. Kassius guided Aranus up, and as they walked closer to the village, Aranus noticed the half-naked guard lying between the bushes.

Alana pulled Kassius’ sleeve, and he paused as he looked at the body in the floor.

“And what about him?” Alana asked.

Kassius looked from side to side, confused.

“Well, I didn’t think about that.”

Aranus narrowed his eyes.

Alana and Kassius looked at each other.

“So?” Alana whispered.

“Should we...” Kassius raised an eyebrow.

“I think we should.” Alana looked at the body and started chewing on her nails.

Kassius knelt beside him. He blinked and extended his hand, palm open.

“Wait,” he said, looking at her. “If we kill him… They will surely notice something went wrong.”

“What if we suggest he killed himself?”

“How would we make them arrive at that conclusion?”

“Maybe grandfather could tell them.” Kassius looked at him.

“Me?” Aranus blinked in surprise.

Suddenly, the body turned swiftly, and the man lifted his torso, trying hard to speak through Alana’s scarf.

Kassius unsheathed the soldier’s own sword. The moonlight shone over its blade, and Kassius swallowed. Then, he stared at Aranus, as if begging him for an answer.

“Kassius,” Alana broke the silence. “Do it. He’s one of them.”

“But so is my father,” Kassius said to her.

Kassius knelt down and removed the scarf.

“You bastards!” As soon as the soldier got his chance, he screamed like a madman, and both Alana and Kassius rushed to hold his mouth closed.

“Keep quiet or we slice your throat,” Kassius said, but he did not seem sure.

“I… Alright, alright,” the soldier whispered, closing his eyes.

Kassius pointed the dagger at his muscular neck.

“Now… You’re going to swear,” Kassius said.

“Kassius, what are you doing?” Alana asked.

“Name and rank. Kassius said. And why did you attack our people?”

“Just a lowly foot soldier. My name is Felix Germanicus. I… I don’t know, we were told we were here to suppress a rebellion. Something about a cult. The Mysteries of Ares.”

“The what?” Kassius raised an eyebrow.

“Yes! I was just following orders. You can kill me now. I prefer to die here than to be hung. My mother would never get the service money.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” Kassius said.

“Do whatever you want with me.” The soldier tilted his head back. He took a deep breath. Aranus could see tears forming in his eyes.

“So? Kassius? Basic mathematics, if we kill our enemies we win.” Alana stared at him.

The soldier started to cry like a child.

“Do whatever you want. Kill me now.”

“Why are you crying?” Kassius asked.

“I just want it all to end. I wanted… My mother… Tell her I loved her. She is Demetra Germanica, lives in the Capital, 25th Romulus Street. And please… In my pockets, there’s a small book.”

Aranus felt Kassius’ hand in the pocket of the soldier’s coat. Kassius removed his hand, holding a small tome.

“It’s poetry,” Felix continued. “Give it to Domitia, my fiancée.”

Kassius cleared his throat.

“I am ready.” Felix shut his eyes, his face still contorted in a grimace of fear.

Kassius held the knife close to Felix’s neck, who in turn took a deep breath, as if calming down before an imminent destiny.

“Well,” Kassius said. “As father said. In war, it’s to kill or to be killed.”

Silence engulfed them.

“And...” Kassius blinked. “What if we don't kill you?”

Felix opened his eyes in surprise and glanced at him. His face was pale, bathed in cold sweat.

“What?”

“Yes.” Kassius put the knife away. “What if we don't kill you?”

“Kasha, what are you talking about?” Alana elbowed him lightly.

“I mean, he hasn't done anything. He was just following orders.”

“So? He'll keep on following orders. And he will be ordered to kill us sooner or later,” Alana said.

Kassius stared at the man from above.

“Do you swear that you will not go after us?” Kassius said.

Felix took another deep breath.

“I do. I... I am tired of this. It used to make sense. It doesn't anymore.”

“Fine,” Kassius said, and reached for the rope that held Felix. He untied it promptly, and Felix stretched his arms.

“Thanks,” Felix said.

Kassius didn't say anything but quickly removed his armour and handed it to Felix, who got dressed immediately.

Only one thing was missing. Aranus observed their reaction.

“Where's my sword?” Felix asked.

“Alright...” Kassius said, looking at it. It could be a big mistake. No one in their right minds would give a sword to the enemy and remain unarmed himself.

Alana grabbed Kassius' wrist. They locked eyes. Kassius glanced at the sheathed gladius once more.

“I trust you, Felix Germanicus” Kassius said.

“What?” Alana opened her eyes wide.

“We granted you your own life. Now, if you are truly a man of honour, you will do the same.”

Felix blinked, perplexed, and stretched his hand to grab the sword. He later tied it with the belt around his waist. Aranus took a step back as Felix fidgeted with the hilt. However, Felix just lowered his head.

“I thank you for your mercy. I will certainly not forget it,” he said.

Kassius smiled faintly.

Aranus nodded. His grandson had behaved honourably, even naively, but what had just happened showed that the gods were protecting him. If he had been unlucky, they would already be dead.

“Now, please take my grandfather to his home,” Kassius said.

“Me? But...”

“Please...”

Aranus cleared his throat. That, he had not foreseen.

“Sure,” Felix said. “I suppose we won't see each other any more. Please be safe. I'd advise you to get out of the borders as soon as possible. Next time you may not be as lucky.”

“We understand that,” Aranus said. “Farewell, and please take care of my grandfather.”

“I will.” He faced Aranus. “Sir, please follow me.”

Aranus nodded and followed him up the hill. He could perceive the humility in Felix's glance, as he had been an inch away from a sure death.

“Wait.” Aranus paused and looked behind him.

“What is it?” Felix asked.

“Kasha, come here,” Aranus signalled his grandson to approach him. His grandson and the girl were already walking down into the forest.

“Grandfather!" Kassius ran up the hill to see him.

“My son. Kasha, come closer.”

“Tell me.” Kassius smiled. His body looked much less threatening in the linen toga. His neck was skinny and bony, his Adam's apple visible, and his arms were skinny like branches. He was still a boy, but Aranus was sure of his greatness. By his side, his now wife not only had a fragile dream-like beauty, but the strength of will that the young lady possessed was even greater than Kassius'. Not quite like Alan the Goldsmith's, but more like his late wife. There was something war-like in her, not violent, but brave like a wild lioness.

Aranus put his hand through Kassius' short brown hair.

"In the name of the All-father, I confer to you the power. So you may see the things of the gods, may their voices guide you.”

“Hail,” Kassius said solemnly, closing his eyes and bowing his head. Aranus felt a surge in his bosom. And, after many long years, tears formed in his eyes.

“Farewell, my son, and listen, there are secrets in the woods, look for the menhirs,” he said, and followed the soldier up into his destiny, leaving the grove and the trees behind like abandoning Paradise.

As they approached and the sun rose in the plains beneath, Felix stopped quietly. There was something wrong. Aranus noticed a figure sitting next to the door. He stood quickly with folded arms and an ironic laugh. It was the centurion.

Felix lowered his head, as the centurion jumped down the stairs and approached them, hand on the hilt of his sword.