Valerius POV

  Under the blazing sun, the legion halted, sweat-darkened tunics clinging to their backs. They heard the three horn blares signalling camp to be built, shields clashed into the sand, forming a makeshift barrier as the munitores dug shallow trenches. The fabri unloaded timber from the supply wagons—pre-cut stakes and collapsible palisades rising swiftly to encircle the camp. Within, mensores laid out the grid, while legionaries pitched their tents, eager for food and rest before the next march. Before noon, as hot wind blew over the desert, fires flickered, and the murmurs of soldiers faded, replaced by the sound of eating.

  Inside, the air was thick with tension as she sat at the head of the table, flanked by her trusted sentinels. Maps and parchment were cleared from the table as dinner was served, the soft glow of oil lamps casting flickering shadows.

  "Oil has gotten expensive to import from White Harbor," someone muttered. "Whalers are fleeing their profession like rats from a sinking ship."

  When Valerius entered the tent everyone stood up and bowed, Valerius raised her palm. Showing everyone may be at ease. The cohorts and their general eat and drink for what feels like eternity.

  Tiberius looks around and breaks the silence first, his raspy voice laced with concern. "General, I fear we may have underestimated the dangers ahead. The bodies suggest wildebeests are already involved. Considering the treacherous terrain... we've lost the element of surprise. This isn’t just about one escaped prisoner anymore."

  Tiberius was old, his grey hair has strands of white cascading through it. Retirement loomed close, and caution was in his best interest. He had seen enough combat for a lifetime, his scarred throat bore witness to that.

  She nodded, her expression turned grim. "Agreed, Cohort Tiberius. I had hoped to avoid casualties, but this could bear a frontal assault in enemy territory. Without our scouts, we are blind. They could be attacking our camp as we speak, and we wouldn't have enough time to deploy for battle. Our fortifications won’t hold against wildebeests."

  Octavia leaned over the table, her dark red hair catching the lamplight. Valerius found it striking and wondered if it was natural.

  "General," Octavia said, her voice measured, "we should consider deploying zandleeuws to scout ahead. We initially decided against it, fearing the prisoner might steal one, but the situation has changed."

  Marcus’s square face tightened as he nodded, feigning agreement. "And while they scout ahead, we can just leave our supply caravans behind, right? Surely we can afford to abandon our provisions in this harsh environment!" He threw his hands in the air, his voice thick with sarcasm.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Octavia, you cannot take any zandleeuws from the caravans. That is not an option, obviously."

  Octavia sneered. "Did you just refer to yourself in the third person? We don’t need all of them. Just three."

  She glanced at her nails, admiring the glittering bronze polish.

  Marcus scoffed. "Three? That’s an entire caravan! A week's worth of provisions. There is no way our general will agree to that."

  Valerius hesitated, out of her depth. She chuckled nervously. "Uhm, yes, well—"

  Tiberius interrupted. "We have no choice. Octavia’s suggestion is necessary for our survival. Like the general said, we are blind. No scout returned intact. Instead of taking three from one caravan, take one from three different caravans. Cycle them to distribute the burden evenly. Better yet, redistribute the weight and give the men extra rations before we march. We’re a week into the journey. We can't risk the zandleeuws pulling too much weight and getting stuck in the sand. Also—" He cut himself off and turned to Valerius. "My apologies, General. It is your command, not mine."

  Valerius felt the weight of command pressing down on her. This was not what she had trained for; swordplay, speeches, prayer, and discipline had not prepared her for such decisions. If only Clypeus would speak to her directly.

  She took a deep breath. "Tiberius will lead the zandleeuws, not Octavia. Take four, not three. Split them into two pairs. The second pair will follow a hundred paces behind. If the first group is ambushed, the second can retreat and warn the legion. Since we are a week into our journey, one caravan could be emptied and abandoned, redistributing the weight. Marcus, you said a week's provisions. We are a week along."

  Marcus grumbled. "That will throw our entire system into disarray! The mensores, the fabri, the camp workers; each was assigned a caravan to draw from. Every caravan has its own distribution of supplies: food, water, oil, wood. This is a bad idea. Let us remain blind, damn it! We should turn back anyways. This land is not ours. I’m surprised we didn’t use this time to put distance between us and the oasis.”

  Valerius laughs, shaking her head.

  Marcus fumes. “You are an inexperienced little girl, and I will not let my hard work be thrown into the garbage! That prisoner will die when it storms the canyon like the countless champions before it! Why take such risk!"

  Silence fell. The wind howled outside the tent.

  The seven newly appointed centurions shuffled uncomfortably. This was not what they had expected from the meeting.

  Valerius stood, pushing her chair back. She inhaled deeply and began mumbling prayers to Clypeus. Her eyes glowed a deep bronze.

  She approached Marcus slowly. He shifted in his seat. "General, I did not mean to offend. I am merely... passionate, as you well know. And, and, I understand your decision is final! Please forgive my disloyal tongue."

  Valerius ignored his words, stepping behind him. He attempted to rise, but she pushed him back down with one hand.

  "Stay seated."

  "Yes General."

  She patted his back, and then started massaging his shoulders. Marcus flinched at every movement. Valerius smiled at the other cohorts, then leaned down, whispering something in Marcus’s ear. The cohorts exchanged nervous glances.

  Marcus nodded along to her words. "Yes, General Valerius... No, General Valerius... I understand, General Valerius. Naturally, General Valerius."

  She releases him. "Glad we understand each other. Now, be at ease. We have other matters to discuss."

  Marcus exhaled in relief while Valerius walked past the centurions, locking eyes with each of them. All she saw was fear.

  She sat back down, her gaze sweeping over the ten cohorts. "You are my council. Council me, then! Do not let this temper your tongues. Marcus raised a fair point; should we turn tail and run?"

  Hesitant glances were exchanged. Marcus grumbled. Octavia raised an eyebrow. Tiberius wore a sour expression. The rest simply stared.

  Valerius shook her head. "Fine. Let’s ask the centurions. Perhaps one of them will earn a promotion."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She scanned the room, her eyes locking onto a centurion standing at attention, his armour ill-fitting, loose around his frame. "You. Step forward and introduce yourself."

  The centurion obeyed. "My name is Versutus, General. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  Valerius grinned. "Oh? Such an eloquent tongue. Where are you from, Centurion Versutus?"

  "Second Polis Auriferrum, General. I am here to learn before I make my debut in the Senate. As you well know, a society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools."

  Tiberius nodded. "Hear, hear."

  Octavia gave a wry grin, raising her cup.

  Marcus knocked on the table. "Hear, hear, indeed."

  Valerius’s eyes gleamed. "Before I ask your opinion, do you have all the necessary information?"

  Versutus remained still. "May I remove my helmet?"

  She nodded.

  The centurion removed his helmet and placed it on the table, walking to the far side of the room to stand before Valerius. “I’ve studied the geography of the wastelands and the canyon, as well as its history. It seems perfectly clear to everyone at this table that the Oasis is the only thing keeping the wildebeests within reach of the stronghold and, by extension, the realms of men.”

  The gathered cohorts exchange uneasy glances, already anticipating where this is headed.

  Versutus continues, his voice calm, “If the Oasis were destroyed, it would force the Wildebeests further north, pushing them out of range of the stronghold. They would have no water, no food, no shelter. I understand the Oasis tends to regrow or resurface, but it might take a century before another Wildebeest sets foot near the canyon. Valerius could do it singlehandedly.”

  Valerius perks up at the suggestion. The realization dawns on her; this could make a direct confrontation with the Champion of Bloodlust unnecessary. “Yes! Gods be great, that is an excellent idea! It would solve all our issues in one decisive blow!”

  Tiberius shoots a glare at Versutus before turning to the general. “No, it does not. Ignoring the fact that their champion may already be there, General, think about the long-term consequences. It would sever our access to the outreaches of the wastelands, leaving the Wildebeest tribes there unchecked, and—”

  Valerius scowls and interrupts, “As if we check up on them now. All we do is hide behind the canyon. I am done losing men to a fight with no end in sight.”

  Revelare, one of the other cohorts, sighed. “Really? This again? She’s twenty-five, for gods’ sake. She should know how the world works by now. Why do we still do this.”

  Tiberius’s face twisted with disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?!"

  Octavia rose, a slight tremble in her hand as she took a sip of wine. “General, would you care to walk with me? These old men are just spinning nonsense.”

  Several cohorts murmured their complaints, feeling unwell, and began leaving the table, food in hand.

  Valerius slammed her hands onto the table. "Sit. Down."

  The room fell into a tense silence.

  "Revelare. Care to explain your comment?" Valerius's voice was sharp.

  Revelare locks eyes with Tiberius, who is silently pleading. Begging him to lie.

  Revelare hesitated, his throat dry from the earlier tension, then lifted his cup and took a long sip. Valerius’s irritation flared.

  After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice tight, "I apologize, General. My comment was poorly worded. I only meant to suggest that. . . you are completely correct, we do not check up on the further, wilder tribes. That is precisely why we need the oasis, and why we cannot afford to destroy it.”

  Valerius’s eyes bore into him, searching for any sign of a lie. She knew something wasn’t adding up, but for now, she let it slide. She turned to Versutus. "What do you think Revelare meant?"

  Versutus answered without hesitation, his voice steady. "Revelare believes you are inexperienced, General. That’s all."

  Valerius swept her gaze over the room, her eyes narrowing. Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  "Revelare," she said, her voice cold, "You’ll be going with Tiberius on the scouting mission. You’ll be placed in the front group."

  Revelare's face darkened, and he looked down at the table, chewing on his lip.

  Valerius turned her attention back to the rest of the room. "To bring the meeting back to its purpose, Versutus’s idea is sound. I’m inclined to follow it."

  She took a sip of wine. "Now, let me anticipate your objections. No, I won’t wait for the Senate to approve this. That could take months. No, I will not turn back. The scouts died for this cause, and their deaths won’t be in vain. And no, capturing the prisoner wasn’t vital. What was important was disconnecting the Wildebeests from their god. Versutus’s plan improves upon that. We all know of the altars that reside there. Any further questions?"

  The room fell silent. No one dared speak.

  "Wonderful," Valerius said with a satisfied smirk. "Once we reach the Oasis, I’ll destroy it. This ends here."

  The meeting gradually draws to an end as they discuss minor matters; provisions, battle formations, and the latest legislation forced through the Senate. The weight of it lingers, unspoken yet understood, another decree that serves the capital’s interests while tightening the noose around The Bronze Shield. One by one, the cohorts disperse, some with quiet murmurs, others with hardened expressions, as they set out to carry out their orders.

  Tiberius remained behind, his eyes full of concern. "General, you’re making a grave mistake."

  Valerius’s nostrils flared, her anger rising again. "You question me as well? What is going on with all of you? Haven’t I shown that I know what I’m doing?"

  Tiberius sat down beside her, his voice more measured now. "You’ve been trained to be the perfect soldier. No one doubts your prowess in battle, your knowledge of the canyon, or your ability to lead. But what you don’t seem to understand is that you lack the mind for politics."

  Valerius scoffed, but Tiberius wasn’t finished.

  He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket; platinum, gold, silver, and an old, tarnished bronze coin. "Each coin represents a god of men. You’ve heard these names from your father, I’m sure. But let me refresh your memory."

  Tiberius holds up the first coin. “Providentia. The platinum god of authority. Her domains are foresight, divinity, and might.”

  Tiberius holds up the second coin. “Aurum. The gold god of wealth. Its domains are prosperity, desire, and shape.”

  Tiberius holds up the third coin. “Argenthos. The silver god of knowledge. His domains are memory, diligence, and control.”

  He holds up the last coin. “Clypeus. The bronze god of war. his domains are valour, victory, and vigilance.”

  Valerius crosses her arms, “thank you for mansplaining. I’m sure you’ll get to your point eventually.”

  He repeats the last word he said. “vigilance. What are we vigilant over if the wildebeests are no threat anymore?”

  He holds up the forgotten bronze coin, “There was a time people used bronze coins to pay for their wares, but that time is long gone. We’ve become obsolete in this age of peace and prosperity. The only reason we still exist is that we serve a purpose. If we destroy the Wildebeests, we destroy the last reason we’re needed."

  Valerius shakes her head in confusion, “what? Doesn’t this mean we could abandon the stronghold and go to the metropolis. To become a standing army there. We could guard the streets. We could convince the people to pray to Clypeus again. Hell, we could make the roads safer. There are a lot of bandits.”

  Tiberius shakes his head, “the senate wants to get rid of us. They have not outright said so, but with every decision they make it’s painfully obvious. We’re a liability. A threat.”

  Valerius’s eyes darkened as she absorbed the weight of his words. "I’m. What? So the only reason we haven’t defeated the Wildebeests is because it would defeat our purpose?”

  Valerius slumped her shoulders. “I don’t know what to do, Tiberius. I’ve spent my life preparing to defend the realms of men. The Bronze shield, our order. It’s my father’s legacy. It’s all I've ever known."

  Tiberius hands her the bronze coin. Valerius turns it in her hands. An old bronze coin, weathered with time. She’s never seen one before. Its greenish in colour. Corrosion from years of exposure to air and moisture. The edges are worn, and the once-clear design is now faded into indistinct grooves. The uneven texture contrasts with the smooth bronze underneath, its age giving it a weighty, historical feel. Despite the tarnish, the coin carries a sense of the past, a reminder of a long-forgotten era.

  Tiberius pats her shoulder, “It’ll be okay. Our way of life is in peril. But I am sure we can find a solution. Make sure this doesn’t corrode your belief. None of us want you to compromise your ideals. I understand that despite knowing this information you might still want to get rid of the wildebeests. It would be a selfless, courageous decision. Sleep a day on it. Announce your decision tomorrow. Whatever you choose, we stand behind you.”

  -storytellerr