"So, they call you Rufus, eh? From what parts of the empire do you hail from?"
Rufus, roughhewn and recalcitrant, kept his eyes on the younger man in front of him with an unreadable face. The man was, like the mute Gnaeus, an ex-legionnaire who had survived wars, famines, mutinies, battles and everything else in between. Someone who, from hard experience, knew how to size up a man in a very short amount of time. A man who had served with the tribune for years.
He knew men who could lead into battle. He knew men who thought they could lead others into battle. He knew cowards. Knew heroes. Knew traitors. Reluctantly he found himself warming up to this handsome young centurion. There was a panache, an arrogant joviality and confidence in the man"s gait he found satisfying and familiar. The
