7 A.D.
Dalmatia
The Dawn
Fog.
Long wispy lines of white fog clung close to the ground and hugged the high hills with a passionate embrace. Thick, yet alive, for it moved slowly, almost rhythmically, with the gentle breeze blowing from out of the West. Completely hiding everything behind its cool, icy curtain. A brooding entity all its own that held no love for the Ninth. Yet, in its own right, a visual treat he knew he would never forget.
He smiled grimly, gripping his gladius in one hand, and his curved, rectangular scutum, his shield, in the other. He would remember this day, this fog, until his dying day. He smiled, hoping that day would come many, many years away yet.
gladius scutum, fog,The one other note of interest about fog, however, he remembered again. It may hide what it c
