@vulpxes
Caesar had been holding court for hours, and the throbbing behind his skull grew louder and faster with each complaint of petty theft, each report on the supplies of their war camp, each accounting of their losses and each extensive map of the surrounding area and the tribes that settled it.
Endless drudgery, he thought, yet important nonetheless. The work that separated beasts from men, leaders from followers, Gods from mortals.
And yet, he longed for release. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and force this damnable headache to stop, just for a few moments. He longed to send every man to their deaths for having the gall to displease him with their pitiful existences.
But he continued. Ever patient, ever just, ever harsh. Asking the best of his sons, and receiving nothing less, on pain of death.
The Legion had a burning need of better stock, he thought. He admired the simple perfection of his savages, and the pitiful mewling of his broken Labienus, but an army needed administrators, and these pea-brained fools could barely count to five, let alone number his innumerable hordes, or the blades required to arm them.
Much less truly lead. Joshua fashioned himself a leader of men, but he was little more than a butcher. He needed someone that would finally understand how the world truly is, another that would mold this rough, savage clay into weapons of war by his side.
His tent flap fluttered open, revealing the imposing forms of two of his praetorians. And between them, a bundle of sticks and rags.
No, he realised. A boy, scrawnier and more pathetic than usual for it’s age.
He almost ordered the thing slain, so wretched was it’s existence that he thought it a grand mercy.
And then it clicked. Graham’s pup. His men had found the Legate’s toy. He had to restrain himself from smiling. They would be rewarded well for their bravery, once the audience ran it’s course.
“Bring it inside,” he ordered. The praetorians shoved the thing to it’s knees, kneeling before it’s God.
“What are you, child?” He asked, bemusedly. “What is your tribe and name? And why have you seen fit to besmirch the sanctity of my camp with your pitiful existence?”