Swords of Rome by Christopher Lee Buckner

style, but serving the same meaning.
    Gaius noted that both his father and Valerius seemed to coven the crest a great deal. Even when they spoke of the Sixth Legion, their words were filled with respect and joy, like two proud fathers. Gaius wondered what it all meant. Would he also come to cherish the Sixth as they had – his new family, his brothers? How would he know if he was going to like the life that was being forced on him? His mind was vexed with these questions and many more – too many uncertainties. He hated not knowing what to expect. He disliked surprises, and more so feared his own lingering doubts. Fear was terrible, and it had sunk its teeth into him. What should happen to him if he failed? What if he was a terrible soldier? He had nothing to his name but what was strapped to the horse.
    What would become of me? Gaius shivered at the thought.
    “Are you cold?” Valerius broke the awkward silence as he noticed Gaius rubbing his arms as he huddled near the fire.
    “Not really,” he lied.
    Valerius smiled as he reached behind him and tossed Gaius his lion-skinned cloak. Gaius eagerly wrapped the warm fur around him, enjoying the soft feel of the hide, which lifted his spirits a bit higher.
    “You should try spending a winter in north of the Po Valley. Some nights, it seems you have to light the whole damn forest on fire to stay warm. Hell, we couldn’t burry our dead some nights,” Valerius commented as she continued to stroke the raging fire that sat between he and Gaius.
    Gaius did not reply, which Valerius sighed at, seemly hoping his attempt at humor would break the tension between, he and Gaius.
    “You should eat something. You’re practically skin and bones.”
    “I am not hungry, thank you,” Gaius replied as a nearly full bowl of stew sat near his feet. The food wasn’t bad, and in fact, it was very much the same that his father had made every night since his mother passed from this world.
    As thunder clapped, in the distance, Gaius glanced over at Valerius, who continued playing with the smoldering logs in the fire. It was then that Gaius seemed to recognize that the old soldier’s mind was lost, as if the gravity of what was asked of him was weighing heavily on his mind. Gaius realized, while he had lost a father, Valerius had lost someone special to him as well, and it was out of love that he had decided to take Gaius under his wing – a last act of friendship.
    Taking a deep breath, Gaius spoke. “How long did you know my father?”
    An uneasy grin appeared on Valerius’ face as he continued to play with the fire, more so out of distraction than necessity.
    “Well, I was a few years older than you when I first met your father. We both joined the Sixth during one of the wars with the Samnite. I was young and stupid back then, full of unfounded confidence. I was a big lad, already skilled with the sword, hailing from wealthy roots. I believed I deserved the best position just because I thought I was of higher birth than anyone else. However, your father, he challenged me, put me in my place more than a few times and showed me that to be a good leader I had to be a better follower.”
    Valerius smiled at the memories of his youth.
    Gaius leaned in closer, listening carefully to every word the legate said.
    “So, you two were friends then, from the start?” Gaius asked.
    Valerius laughed with a bellowing roar.
    “Oh no, dear boy, y our father and I were bitter rivals from the very start. I hated his guts from the moment I first laid eyes on him. So pious, confident, and like I, remarkable skilled.”
    Gaius looked more than a little surprised to hear Valerius’ statement, which was spoken with all honesty.
    “What do you mean?” Gaius asked as his smile disappeared.
    “I and your father challenged each other daily, in anything and everything you could imagine, just to see who the best was: who was superior with the sword, spear, and the better horsemen, boxing, wrestling, eating,