Justinius watched in approval as the legionaries in his century celebrated over the hawk they had killed which had flown in from the north. He twitched his whiskers and smelt the wind, but there was nothing else to fear. Hawks usually hunted alone, which meant the mice under his command and those in their glorious city of Rome were safe.
He waddled down through his mice, clapping some on the back, congratulating some, reprimanding others, and giving a few words of advice to the few who needed it. Justinius was proud of his mice—they were the glory of Rome in his opinion. His whiskers drooped as he saw the thirteen bodies of those who had fallen while fighting the bird of prey. He was thankful more had not been killed, but they had been good mice and he was loathe to lose them.
Approaching the hawk, he walked around its corpse, inspecting it and noting the number of javelins that had hit their mark before the hawk had succumbed to his soldiers. One of the younger mice had maimed its wing, grounding it and assuring their victory.
“Octavius,” Justinius called. The young mouse stepped forward.
“Yes?” he asked, standing before his commanding officer.
“Well done,” he said, placing a paw on the mouse’s shoulder. “Because of you, this foul beast was slain.”
“Thank you sir,” he said shakily. “But I only did what I should as a legionary.”
“Still, victory was possible because of you. And the citizens of Rome are now safe.” He turned to the rest. “Let us build a pyre for the fallen, then return home to have our victory celebrated!”
The legionaries cheered, but Justinius felt a sense of foreboding, as if something was going to happen. What it was he could not tell. He noticed a hole in his cape—that would have to be mended.
Once the pyre had been lit and the dead properly sent off, Justinius led his century back to their city, where they were greeted with shouts and cheers. But Justinius only wanted to get home.
Finally in his opulent villa, he was first greeted by his slaves, then his many children, lastly by his wife. He told the excited children and slaves about how his legionaries had taken down the fearsome hawk. They all, even his wife, squeaked in fright at his description of the predator. Just when he was about to get to what he considered the good part, he was interrupted.
“Master Justinius.”
Justinus turned and saw a small mouse with snow white fur and a clipped ear. The former slave bowed and spoke in a rather deep voice. “His Imperial Majesty, Caesar Marcus the Greater, wishes to speak with you immediately.” He bowed again, and waited for Justinius to follow.
Justinius got up with a sigh and followed, telling his family he might not be back for some time, then left. He didn’t know that he would be gone for much longer than he thought. His villa was not too far from the city, and as they walked in the evening breeze, he wondered what the emperor wanted with him.
They used to be good friends, but had not seen each other much in recent years after Marcus had become the emperor. He was not to be left in the dark for long, for he was soon kneeling before the emperor himself.
“Justinius,” Marcus said, getting off of his couch and approaching the centurion. “It has been a long time my friend! I have heard news of your exploits today.”
“I am glad you look so upon me,” Justinius said with a deep bow.
“Justinius,” said Marcus sounding hurt, “Are we not old friends? Did we not grow up together?”
Justinius thought a moment before answering. Twitching his whiskers, he looked at the brown mouse before him. He was tall and strong, though by the looks of things, living comfortably was leaving his belly quite plump. “We are, but I am just a mere centurion.”
“Nonsense,” Marcus said, clapping a paw on Justinius’s shoulder. He said nothing, and waited to see what the emperor wanted. Walking to a balcony, they looked out over the golden plains and green forests that stretched out to the mountains and hills on the horizons. There would be a similar sight if one looked out at any other direction. The summer sun shined down upon them, warming them, though it was cool for this time of year. Villages, rivers, and lakes could be seen breaking the forests at various intervals on the expansive plains. He noted a legion returning from some battle.
“Do you see this glorious land?” he continued.
“Yes,” Justinius replied. “I’ve grown up on this land, farmed it, shed blood on it, and fought to expand our borders. Hopefully someday I will die on it.”
“That is the very reason for bringing you here,” the emperor said. “Well, not you dying, but or empire. That, and to see you once again, it has been a while. Our territory is large, yes, but the gods have given us the world. It is our divine right to rule this world and govern it.” Justinius thought he knew where his old friend was going, but he stayed silent like before.
“There is a troublesome village near our northern territories, a barbarian city of rats, that has been causing trouble on our land. For the sake of our citizens and for the sake of the empire, as well as to follow in the wishes of the gods, I am promoting you to legate of the legion now serve. Tomorrow morning you start the march to that village and once you are there you will subdue it. I have my faith that you will succeed.”
“It shall be done,” said Justinius, “but if I may?”
“You may,” Marcus laughed. “Speak freely—you have no need to fear when we are alone.”
“Thank you,” he said with a bow. “But so high? I am but a centurion, and to promote me to legate?”
“I know you, Justinius,” Marcus said, waving it away. “I know you are fit to carry this out. And your feat this afternoon will keep anyone from objecting. You new armor will be given to you.”
“How many are their numbers?” he asked, wanting more information.
The emperor’s face grew serious. “The reports are few and very, but it is not too high, surly not high enough that my finest legion cannot put them down. It will take you some time to reach, but once you do I am sure it will not be long before you start the return.”
“So no concrete numbers? And is it one village, or is there more that needs subduing? If it is one village then how are they causing trouble in our territories?”
“It is more of a city than a village in size,” Marcus said thoughtfully, “but in terms of quality it is a village.”
Justinius nodded. “I wish I knew more, but that will have to be enough.” He pulled out his sword and saluted the emperor.
“Aquila recommended you for this,” Marcus said as they departed the room. “Though he had no need, as I was already planning on sending you.”
“I am honored he thinks so of me,” Justinus said while feeling quite the opposite.
“I’d be surprised if you do,” said the emperor with a chuckle, “but he is not allowing his personal feelings to color this.”
Justinius merely nodded, and left. A moment later, he heard the slap of tiny feet on the stone. Turning, he saw Aquila, decked out in his legate finery, coming around a corner. The two female mice with him suddenly dropped back as they saw Justinius, but Aquila continued and congratulated Justinius on his victory. There seemed to be a fake politeness about him, as if Aquila wanted nothing more than to strangle Justinius. The feeling was mutual.
“Congratulations my old friend,” Aquila said, twirling his long whiskers in an infuriating fashion, giving the impression that he thought he was better than everyone, which he probably did think.
“I’m glad my small feat is worthy of praise from one so high,” Justinius said with just enough sincerity that Aquila could not accuse Justinius of mocking him, but not so much that Aquila would miss it entirely.
“I have heard you are to secure our northern borders,” the legate said. “At first, I had wondered why someone so seemingly inconsequential was being picked by our emperor to expand our borders, putting it to the raising up of friends, but after today. I can see that others do see your prowess.”
Justinius felt there was more behind what he said than just getting back at him. Try as he might, he was unable to figure out what it was exactly. Aquila did not give him more time to think before he went on.
“I was surprised when he said he would not send me, but after having recommended you in my place, he said he was already thinking of you. Ah, but I forget myself—I have somewhere to be.” He and the two following him disappeared, leaving Justinius very confused and concerned.
He left for the baths, but was unable to relax, feeling as though something was going to happen. Once he was out, he left not for home, but for the barracks where his armor for his new station was waiting. There, he donned his armor and approached various officers and legionaries from the legion, seeing who he would be commanding and letting them know who would be leading them. Many of the centurions under his command were ones he had fought alongside and respected.
He soon retired to his personal office and fell asleep, knowing he would need all the rest he could get in the coming days. He dreamt that he was alone, and Marcus was standing above him, accusing him of betraying Rome, while Aquila stood behind, laughing and making a face so comically evil that even Justinius had to admit was not how he saw Aquila. He remembered nothing more after that.
Once the first light was in the sky, Justinius arose, had one of his servants help him don his armor, then stopped outside. Within the hour the legion was assembled and ready to march. With the Emperor and the priests and priestesses giving their blessings behind them, Justinius and the legion set off for the northern borders.
The End for now . . . God bless
words—1,751 Read the next chapter here.