19.

Before the flagpole where Xeator had been interrogated, blades glinted, swooshing across the air. Heads flew, and blood fanned out, splattering a row of shining shields that lined the arsenal. 

Xeator turned away. The door to the drain that ran south clunked open, releasing water from the trenches used to keep the fire from spreading. Narrowing his gaze at the winch to the aqueduct, he marveled. 

"If you're worrying about the technical details," Julius' voice sounded from behind. "No need. You can trust Frontius as I do with my life."

Xeator smiled in reply.

"One thing, though," Julius circled to his left, out of the range of his eye. "My father can't be your only target. You're using the Uranus to crush us. Then what? What're you going to do with the Uranus?"

Xeator heaved, turning his eye to the folds of crags. The sun hung low in the west, tinting the sky from the edge with colorful striations shifting between yellow and red. A cerise glow veiled the white spires, whose slanting shadow grew large over the jagged ridges afield. From the east, the mottled moon rose, sullen and cold. 

As he remained quiet, Julius continued. "Whatever will come between us after this, I need to make sure of Ariadne's safety. I'm sending her back to Pethens. But if I let you live, Pethens will be the least safe, won't it?" 

"To be level with you," Xeator heaved, folding his arms. "I really haven't thought that far. I thought I had it all planned out, having every step cleaved to the next. What a slap in the face. Nothing has gone quite as planned of late. I mean, who'd have thought I'd give a shit about your wife? Why should I? But gods blight, who'd have known that she would be my type? Maybe I'll have my way with her after you die tonight," he japed, glancing down at Julius' shadow. 

Laughter boomed. "How did you manage to survive all these years talking still like a cunt you've always been?"

"Well, I did lose an eye."

The laughing ceased. "About that," Julius said, his shadow tilting as he turned his head. "I'm truly sorry… and for everything else, I– "

"Don't." he crooned, his eye low, voice uninflected. Whatever Julius had yet said, once spoken, would have forced down the burden of forgiveness heavy enough to deflect his cause, his purpose, his meaning, crushing him to be causeless, purposeless, meaningless, and he couldn't allow it! Not now! Not after everything! 

"I said I'm sorry not because I mean it, not that I was trying to change your mind…"

"Let's focus on the enemies on your doorstep for now, shall we?" Swiveling to Julius, he smiled wryly. 

Julius nodded, huffing a sigh, tendrils of white breath dispersing to the wind. Upending his sword in sheath, he scrawled with the pommel a rough map of their surroundings on a patch of thin snow. "Composed of only cataphracts and light archers, the Turisian riders are highly flexible. Without chariots, they can scatter into tough terrains like the surrounding ridges if they must. But, as you've said, they wouldn't dare. I've set plenty of traps where they could breach, and they've learned their salutary lessons in the past. Leaving out that option, they'd only fight us on open grounds where their mounted archers could have the space to fully make use of their agility." A broad grin bared his teeth, each glimmered like a pearl under the rising moon. He was gloating.

Xeator watched him, his smile aching. He wished he could drink to Julius' victories, which, too, should have been his. He wished he could stand tall in the open between heaven and earth, and ride like the warrior he had aspired to become. But a worm he had become instead, squirming in the clammy darkness of a cave, colluding if not groveling with the cockroaches. He wished he actually deserved to fight alongside Julius. 

Biting his bottom lip, he savored the metallic tang of blood that tasted even bitterer tonight. 

"What're you doing?" Julius cocked a brow. 

He dabbed his lips with the gauze strapped around the wound from clutching Julius' blade earlier. "Nothing," he shrugged, raising the other hand as he wanted to clap Julius on the shoulder but faltered; his hand suspended in the air between them. He slapped his own chest instead. "I've heard about your traps. Quite legendary, I'd give you that." He meant what he said. 

"You're worried about Lorenzo, aren't you?"

"Am I?" he chuckled, looking sidelong over the slope running to the lower south where Lorenzo encamped. Too long since someone spoke his mind. "What do you know about this Legidus?"

"The man is an iceberg," Julius croaked. "A large part of him, you can't see, and the part he does show is beguiling. That makes him dangerous."

Xeator favored him with a nod. "The more he stays quiet, the more it speaks volumes of his true intent. Among all the dignitaries, I at first had Romulus Scipio in mind as the candidate to assist and carry out my vengeance. Like Lorenzo, he draws his stealthy breath in the protective shadow of his brother and appears to loathe it. But over the years, Romulus does what has bid of him. And his loathing is another dissimulation, a figure of a speech at best. But not Lorenzo." 

He folded his arms, his eye tailing the feet of soldiers scurrying by. 

"While he gets his hand dirty levying for the Legidus and never complains," Xeator continued. "He has also donned the persona of ascetic austerity, touting to the people that he has never spent any of the gold on himself without having to speak the words. But over time, his message has spread far and seeped deep, bringing home a zinger that set him apart from all the courtiers."

"Show, don't tell, eh?" Julius scoffed, shifting his jaw sideways. 

"Would he have gone all the extra mile had never thought two steps ahead?"

"You mean he's setting the pieces?

Another nod. "A man who kept his appetite hidden responds well to lure and attempts. If the Turisians had not tried to invade us, by the time Lorenzo took you out, he'd have had all Renanian legions under his command. And I'd suggest he wait outside Pethens while I return and cavort with the Commander of the Praetor's guards whom I befriended on my last visit. The siege shall begin while the guards are derelict on their duty. That was the plan, loosely speaking." 

"And loosely speaking, I still haven't decided whether I want to keep you alive," said Julius matter-of-factly, dark curls shielding his eyes. 

"Well," he turned his back to him, his brows numb from frowning. "You still have time to mull it over." 

"Do I?" Julius snorted. "If Lorenzo did see this war as his chance to take down the Uranus, he'd still fight me afterward." 

"What if you agree to help him take down Marcus?" 

Medals clanked, as did weapons; feet of soldiers swished to hollering commands. 

"Bold suggestion," Julius observed at length.

"Is it?"

"Is it not?" 

Xeator chuckled. Turning to his shoulder, he contemplated the row of double-grip shields fencing the heel of the arsenal. Laminated and attached with nails to a rim of iron, the bronze outer face was inscribed in shimmering gold with the proud manticore of the Gaius. Imaging how such a polished surface would flash under the sun and terrify enemies of all ranks, he withdrew his eye. "Marcus ordered to execute your wife's mother," he said. "And for all these years she's been with you, never once has she come home to Marcus. Must be quite a rift. Have you promised her a little vengeance yourself, perchance?" He could feel Julius' eyes drilling at his back. 

"I see," Julius chuckled, his scaled armor striking a metallic clink. "You've been watching us closely."

"I have." 

"What else did you find?"

Clouds wreathed over their heads, doling out snow as they scuttled northeast. Xeator raised his gaze at the flakes twirling eastward, westward, skyward, anyward in the blow of wind except downward, gyrating at will as if they would never fall. He upturned his hand, catching a few on the gauze. Their intricate scrollwork-like patterns melted to the red, leaving not a trace. Slowly turning around, he considered Julius, who did just the same. 

"That you and Lorenzo might share the same appetite," he replied.