Before I
knew it, I was hemmed in on all sides, and at the head of the group was Festus,
who had appeared from the other direction to cut me off, a wicked sneer on his
face. All of them were looking disdainfully, almost hungrily, at me with their
strange tawny eyes that seemed so prevalent among the auxiliaries here in the
north.
I tried to
effect my aloof, unamused officer’s expression, but feared it was not so
impressive as it had been previously. “I think you would do well to back away
before you do something you’ll regret, Festus,” I said coldly.
“I think
it’s you who’ll regret it. Sir.” Festus snarled like a dog. His eyes flashed
and he bared his teeth at me, his hands clenching, not into fists, but claws. I
tried not to let it unnerve me, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t. There
was just something not entirely…human…about
Festus, and I had never noticed it more than at that moment.
“Careful,
Festus,” one of his cronies said, sounding slightly worried. “We should wait
until the moon is full…”
“I’d rather do for the whelp now and be done with it,” Festus growled, stepped closer to me and causing me to have to step back so that my back was against he wall.
“I’d rather do for the whelp now and be done with it,” Festus growled, stepped closer to me and causing me to have to step back so that my back was against he wall.
“Get back,
Festus,” I commanded firmly. “Get back or, by Mithras, I will have you
flogged.”
All he did
was smirk a wolfish grin, and lean forward with his teeth bared as if he would
bite me. I grabbed for the pommel of my dagger, ready to use it if I was forced
to, though knowing how detrimental that would be to the connection I had begun
forming with the men, I hesitated.
Fortune
seemed with me that day, however, and from the most unlikely of places. I had
tensed in the resignation that I would have to run my dagger through Festus
should he get any closer, but a familiar ginger head appeared at the big man’s
shoulder, a knife finding it’s way to Festus’ throat. A sudden look of fear
crossed Festus’ face, and he froze as he felt the dagger touch his skin.
“Now, now,
Festus,” Justinius said in a mockingly scolding tone. “You know what happens to
a soldier when he attacks an officer. It’s death, it is. Likely something
entirely unpleasant. As a fellow comrade, I wouldn’t want to see you fall foul
of that now, would I? So back away, man. There’s a good soldier.”
Festus
stepped away carefully, and the rest of his fellows moved with him as one. Once
they were out of reaching distance of me, Justinius let the knife fall from
Festus’ neck and he immediately clapped a hand to a red mark there. I was a bit
surprised to see it, for I had not thought Justinius had pressed that hard. I
quickly gathered myself, remembering my position, and stood straight, repairing
my lost dignity as I glared at the miscreants.
“You two,”
I told Festus’ followers. “Latrine duty for two weeks. I hear there’s a back
up. Best start now.”
They slunk
off and I turned to scrutinize Festus. “You on the other hand, I’m not sure of
what to do with. I will decide soon enough. Until then, secure him somewhere,
Justinius.”
“My
pleasure,” the Celt nodded and grabbed Festus by the arm, marching him off to
the storage building. I followed him to see that everything was done properly
and watched Justinius lock the glowering legionnaire away in a small pantry. He
followed me back outside once the deed was done and I was left with just my
ne’er-do-well rescuer, not entirely certain what to say.
“Don’t mind
Festus overmuch, sir,” Justinius said as he started to tuck his dagger into the
back of his belt. “He’s just a hard bargain case. I’m sure you’ve seen them
before.”
“Where I
come from, Justinius, even hard cases don’t go around threatening officers so
readily,” I said blandly.
Justinius
shrugged as if it made little difference. “This is the north, sir, and things
are done differently. May I ask what you will do with him, sir?”
“That’s
none of your concern,” I said sternly.
Justinius
watched me for several seconds before he reached behind his back again, to pull
out his dagger, handing it to me. “On second thought, sir, why don’t you have
this? It’s a fine dagger, sir.”
“I’ve already
got a perfectly fine blade, Justinius,” I said, making no move to take it.
“With
respect sir,” he said insistently with no trace of his usual smirk. “It’s not
like this one.”
“Very
well,” I replied, taking the dagger to humor him. “Now be off with you.”
He saluted
and started off. I studied the dagger, seeing that it was a good blade as he
had said. Locally made as well, as I could see by the carved wooden handle that
had traditional knot work in what looked to be the shape of a dog or wolf. The
only difference was that the blade was made of silver. It was pretty enough as
a ceremonial piece, but would never hone as well as steel, nor would it be as
strong. I tucked it into my belt and started off, puzzled over the events of
the last few minutes. I had never expected anything like that from Justinius.
Tiberius, yes, Marcellus likely enough, but not the red-headed Celtic renegade
with the easy grin and wode tattoos. His actions today were, well, surprising
to say the least, but also those befitting a comrade. I began to realize that I
would much rather have Justinius at my shoulder than anywhere else.
Also, later this week, or next week, I'm going to post pictures of my Justinius plushie I made. He's very adorable, I might add ;) I'll also hopefully be posting some character sketches later this month along with other snippets so stay tuned if you are interested!
Wow! Congrats on getting to 50,000 words! That's super exciting. The story sounds really interesting as well!!
ReplyDeleteThanks =) I hope it will be interesting lol :P
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