A little sleep went a long way, for a centurion. Marcus took his own at captain's orders, who seemed to be back on track with his habit of deeming everyone else in need of more care than he did himself. Marcus couldn't help but shake his head at how deeply that core was impressing the remnants of the Senatorial Legions. The captain really didn't seem able to help himself. Still the centurion was deeply grateful for the rest and somewhat exasperated by the young man's relentless drive.
The Cursor was even more exasperated by it. Fidelias could see Gaius Septimus and Gaius Sextus both writ large in Octavian's actions. He could only hope the youngest Gaius had more common sense.
Common sense out of Octavian, he reflected, was probably a hopeless dream.
Coming out of his own rest, Marcus was somewhat relieved to see Antillar back at the captain's side. Maximus might be weakened from his wounds and healing, but at least he was there to keep an eye out for trouble. Marcus approached and gave Octavian a sharp salute. As he did, a cart behind him kicked up some of the dust that still covered much of the ruins of Mastings. The sky was finally clearing, but Marcus had a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. Though they had no news, when it came, it wouldn't be good.
Antillar coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. "Crows. You didn't tell me the place had burned this much."
"It didn't," the captain said quietly. His green eyes flicked to the south, briefly, and somewhere deep inside Marcus something clenched with mild nausea as the Cursor's guess was confirmed. He remembered Octavian's face, the days before. How he'd worked it out faster even than the other Cursors (or other intelligence agents) in the Legion, doubtless few would ever guess. Fidelias--and, he suspected, Magnus--knew better.
With an uneasy look, Antillar followed his glance. Missing the last few days left him without some critical information, or he'd probably know by now himself. "Calderon?"
Octavian's lips quirked up in a faint smile--one without any humor at all--and shook his head. "Sacred right."
Maximus didn't relax any. "That's my line," he protested, though it fell extremely flat.
The captain just shook his head. "Confirmation will come in the next day or two. I'll call a meeting then." Marcus could see Maximus bursting to ask what the confirmation was of, but Octavian had already moved on. "Marcus. Have you had a chance to check in with the Tribunes Logistica yet."
"Yes, sir," he replied, and they moved on as Marcus tried to put the conversation as far behind him as Octavian had.
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The Cursor was even more exasperated by it. Fidelias could see Gaius Septimus and Gaius Sextus both writ large in Octavian's actions. He could only hope the youngest Gaius had more common sense.
Common sense out of Octavian, he reflected, was probably a hopeless dream.
Coming out of his own rest, Marcus was somewhat relieved to see Antillar back at the captain's side. Maximus might be weakened from his wounds and healing, but at least he was there to keep an eye out for trouble. Marcus approached and gave Octavian a sharp salute. As he did, a cart behind him kicked up some of the dust that still covered much of the ruins of Mastings. The sky was finally clearing, but Marcus had a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. Though they had no news, when it came, it wouldn't be good.
Antillar coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. "Crows. You didn't tell me the place had burned this much."
"It didn't," the captain said quietly. His green eyes flicked to the south, briefly, and somewhere deep inside Marcus something clenched with mild nausea as the Cursor's guess was confirmed. He remembered Octavian's face, the days before. How he'd worked it out faster even than the other Cursors (or other intelligence agents) in the Legion, doubtless few would ever guess. Fidelias--and, he suspected, Magnus--knew better.
With an uneasy look, Antillar followed his glance. Missing the last few days left him without some critical information, or he'd probably know by now himself. "Calderon?"
Octavian's lips quirked up in a faint smile--one without any humor at all--and shook his head. "Sacred right."
Maximus didn't relax any. "That's my line," he protested, though it fell extremely flat.
The captain just shook his head. "Confirmation will come in the next day or two. I'll call a meeting then." Marcus could see Maximus bursting to ask what the confirmation was of, but Octavian had already moved on. "Marcus. Have you had a chance to check in with the Tribunes Logistica yet."
"Yes, sir," he replied, and they moved on as Marcus tried to put the conversation as far behind him as Octavian had.