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Authors: Daniel Ottalini
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turned shell side down. Gwendyrn stood and watched him, unmoving. “Well don’t just sit there, help me!” Julius ordered, his voice cracking as he frantically tried to avoid falling the fifteen or so feet to the street below.
Just when he felt his body beginning to slip over the edge, Gwendyrn’s gauntleted hand grasped his arm and hauled him back over the edge. “Seriously, sir?” the big man said. “I’m glad you’ll take help from a barbarian when you need it, because otherwise it seems to be fair game on any of them.”
Julius glanced up at him once he had regained his composure, and for the first time he looked past the outward signs of Romanness—the armor, weapon, uniform. I always assumed he was mostly Roman, except for his name . “I didn’t mean it that way—”
Gwendyrn cursed at him. “Spare me your whining, sir. My family has more children than I have fingers on my hand. I lived in a shack my entire life on a farm no bigger than your apartment. We did not have an ‘autodryer’ to do the dishes. We didn’t even have running water!” Whirling, Gwendyrn marched away in disgust, then turned and glared at Julius. “Yes, you lost your family, and I’m sorry. You aren’t the only one who is having issues, sir, but you have to get it together. Your decisions impact everyone in this cohort. Other men, they can go about their business, they know it wasn’t these people who did the damage to the city. In case you forgot, it was a rebellion . Yes, the Nortlanders were involved, and that’s why we’re here, but we’re also here chasing those rebels.”
Julius stared at Gwendyrn, shocked. Gone was the humorous banter, the slightly childish bearing. In its place was an angry man, disgusted and ashamed of his commanding officer’s behavior. And Julius realized something then—he was ashamed of himself too. All his words and actions and choices weighed on him more heavily than the loss of his family.
Julius placed his hands on his head and slumped down, ignoring the throbbing pain from his ankle.
Gwendyrn sat heavily next to him. “I know how you’re feeling, sir. But take my advice. Keep the personal, personal. This is business. And those people out there, they’re business. We didn’t come here to slaughter innocents. I helped cover for your . . . lack of sensitivity . . . yesterday.”
Julius looked questioningly at him. Gwendyrn shrugged. “I woke up a neighbor and told them to run for the fire department when we left. No one deserves to die in a fire.”
Feeling more ashamed than ever, Julius sat in silence for a while. Gwendyrn remained next to him, waiting patiently. Finally Julius spoke. He had to clear his throat a few times to get the words out. “Junior Centurion, did I ever tell you about my family?” Gwendyrn shook his head. Julius smiled. “Let me rectify that right now.
“You would have liked Marciena. I joined for her, you know. To send her to school. I know it’s not the thing to do, but I wanted my sister to be smarter than me, maybe even marry up in this world. And my father, well, I think he’d like you too.”
Gwendyrn laughed. “If she’s anything like you, I bet your sister is a fireball.”
Julius thought for a moment, then chuckled. “She can be. Once she loosened all the chair legs in the house, and every time my father tried to sit down, the chair would collapse under him. My mom laughed so hard, she cried.” Julius could still see his mom crying with laughter as her husband broke chair after chair.
“That sounds like my older brother, Alaric. The boy was a natural-born troublemaker.”
“I thought you were a natural-born troublemaker,” Julius pointed out.
“Naw, just learned from the best. And Alaric, he was the best. He got a cow up on the headman’s roof one time. I have no clue how he did it. But there it was in the morning, mooing up a storm. The mayor’s daughter had to climb up on a ladder and milk the poor beast before they could get
Just when he felt his body beginning to slip over the edge, Gwendyrn’s gauntleted hand grasped his arm and hauled him back over the edge. “Seriously, sir?” the big man said. “I’m glad you’ll take help from a barbarian when you need it, because otherwise it seems to be fair game on any of them.”
Julius glanced up at him once he had regained his composure, and for the first time he looked past the outward signs of Romanness—the armor, weapon, uniform. I always assumed he was mostly Roman, except for his name . “I didn’t mean it that way—”
Gwendyrn cursed at him. “Spare me your whining, sir. My family has more children than I have fingers on my hand. I lived in a shack my entire life on a farm no bigger than your apartment. We did not have an ‘autodryer’ to do the dishes. We didn’t even have running water!” Whirling, Gwendyrn marched away in disgust, then turned and glared at Julius. “Yes, you lost your family, and I’m sorry. You aren’t the only one who is having issues, sir, but you have to get it together. Your decisions impact everyone in this cohort. Other men, they can go about their business, they know it wasn’t these people who did the damage to the city. In case you forgot, it was a rebellion . Yes, the Nortlanders were involved, and that’s why we’re here, but we’re also here chasing those rebels.”
Julius stared at Gwendyrn, shocked. Gone was the humorous banter, the slightly childish bearing. In its place was an angry man, disgusted and ashamed of his commanding officer’s behavior. And Julius realized something then—he was ashamed of himself too. All his words and actions and choices weighed on him more heavily than the loss of his family.
Julius placed his hands on his head and slumped down, ignoring the throbbing pain from his ankle.
Gwendyrn sat heavily next to him. “I know how you’re feeling, sir. But take my advice. Keep the personal, personal. This is business. And those people out there, they’re business. We didn’t come here to slaughter innocents. I helped cover for your . . . lack of sensitivity . . . yesterday.”
Julius looked questioningly at him. Gwendyrn shrugged. “I woke up a neighbor and told them to run for the fire department when we left. No one deserves to die in a fire.”
Feeling more ashamed than ever, Julius sat in silence for a while. Gwendyrn remained next to him, waiting patiently. Finally Julius spoke. He had to clear his throat a few times to get the words out. “Junior Centurion, did I ever tell you about my family?” Gwendyrn shook his head. Julius smiled. “Let me rectify that right now.
“You would have liked Marciena. I joined for her, you know. To send her to school. I know it’s not the thing to do, but I wanted my sister to be smarter than me, maybe even marry up in this world. And my father, well, I think he’d like you too.”
Gwendyrn laughed. “If she’s anything like you, I bet your sister is a fireball.”
Julius thought for a moment, then chuckled. “She can be. Once she loosened all the chair legs in the house, and every time my father tried to sit down, the chair would collapse under him. My mom laughed so hard, she cried.” Julius could still see his mom crying with laughter as her husband broke chair after chair.
“That sounds like my older brother, Alaric. The boy was a natural-born troublemaker.”
“I thought you were a natural-born troublemaker,” Julius pointed out.
“Naw, just learned from the best. And Alaric, he was the best. He got a cow up on the headman’s roof one time. I have no clue how he did it. But there it was in the morning, mooing up a storm. The mayor’s daughter had to climb up on a ladder and milk the poor beast before they could get
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