II:I | Ave et Salve (Revised)

It's almost mid afternoon, Barbara thought to herself, as she moved down the forest path. Once that would have been impossible to tell except from up top. Now pockets of sunlight pierced through the canopy onto the forest path below.

“Keep the Pace, Tranquilitas, no need to rush.”

Barbara patted the tamed white pony around the neck as it trotted down the dirt strewn path. She glanced behind her to see that the box was still secured.

In contrast to the full armor and heavy cloak, her bare limbs were a welcome release from the ever oppressive humidity.

Allowing the horse to guide her along the paths that pointed towards the gate. The ancient metallic rails of their ancestors, and new rushing wooden waterpipes above, suspended from tree branches, lest the headless ones try to take them down. Her hands free she adjusted the pin on her green cloak.

Her cloak was the only thing remaining of her old outfit, for She was a Roman now. Barbara wore the armored tunic and helm of a roman cavalry officer. And while she envied the gleaming metal armor of Pliny and Pomponianus, she was still amazed by the power and lightness of her cloth and leather armor. Arachna had taken to the new designs and Pliny’s tools to work wonders from her spider silk.

We had the materials to make it this whole time. Yet we couldn’t.

Like so many the loss of time continued to haunt her and the other elves.

She still uses her flying suit, but only when specifically requested too. Barbara smiled to herself remembering when she showed them how the suit worked, their faces lit up and began babbling incessantly. If she was a fast enough scribe she could have turned that conversation into its own book ‘A History of The Military Campaigns of Pliny and Pomponianus, as told by an eagle.’

Now that was not true, between sentry teams, traps, supply depots, and strategically felled trees and walls, entire spaces in the ground surrounding the spires had been mapped and cordoned off. Once she feared the ground, now she enjoyed it.

I don’t think I could live in a tree again, too cold.

She sees two figures on horseback off in the distance, the two were carrying spears, and leather and cloth helms.

I could probably order them to come to me,she thought,

However, given how most of the dryadae still struggled to command horses, that seemed petty. She moved closer and watched the two bickering figures attempt to snap to attention.

Like her they are dressed in linen armor and a tunic that when standing, went down to their knees. However unlike the tall lithe figures of House Pliny, these two were sturdier, a consequence of a rich diet of horse milk and a paterfamilias insistent on strong children. The color of their cloaks was a dull brown red, a shadow of not only the vibrant crimson of their Father, but the fiery orange of their hair. She recognizes the twins immediately, Castra Pompanian Midora and Pollux Pomponianus Midorus. As she approaches them the two stop chatting and freeze, looking up to her. They know they are supposed to do something here, but they forgot their lines

Barbara helps them,

“Avete Castra and Pollux Pompaniani Midorii, report on the status of your patrol.”

“Hail Barbara of Pliny.” Castra tries to mimic Barbara's authority with a firm tone. Castra keeps her hands near the reigns of her saddle as though to show her talent in horseback riding.

Pollux’s face and demeanor perks up when she arrives, but his voice is still sheepish but manages to stumble out a greeting. Pollux, though the same age as Castra, was at least a head shorter. A consequence of all of those years as a sickly child.

“Ai-ya.l - um - Ave Barbara. What’s Happening?”

There is an awkward moment between the three of them as they put on the look the can devise of a solemn soldier. Barbara the cold calculating stare of Pliny, eyebrow arched, forehead wrinkled, frown flattened. For Castra and Pollux it is the haughty poise of Pomponianus. Then all of them break eye contact and giggle.

“I’m on my way back to the Camp, Can you report on your patrol before I depart.” Barbara tried to bring some semblance of authority back. She looks at Castra who is gulping and muttering something under her breath, as if to practice.

Meanwhile Pollux seems to be lost in focus.

“Umm yes truly true, for certain… Hail Barbara of Pliny and Sylpho…I go from northwest, also. Monsters no….”

Pollux was not blinking, just staring and turning red. Barbara follows his eyes and She notices that he has been staring at her legs poking through the Calvary tunic. She deftly forces her horse to turn to the side.

The Horse gives a loud snort which startles Pollux.

Castra, who just realized what Pollux was doing, glares and smacks him behind the head. And mutters something in their old tongue, about making them look bad.

Realizing she now has to give the report, Castra tries to speak with a semblance of authority.

Castra after stumbling through what she tried to say broke. She slouched and her face shed what pride it had been building.

“Barbara, can we just speak to you in common please.” Pollux begged.

“We completed our routes. We didn’t see any monsters, you don’t need to show off. We just aren’t as good at Latin as you.” Castra added.

It was easy for the others to assume this was merely Barbara’s talent. Admittedly some was. But like all things in house Pliny, things were performed with intensity and precision. Beginning with Pliny himself. Barbara and her sister thought it was bizarre at first coming into the house and Pliny refusing to speak. That was until two weeks later when he spoke their own language back at them, grammar in hand. Once we had no excuse, the training in reading and speaking began.

A lot of the elves put me on a pedestal, especially House Pompanianus, which has been relying a little too much on their Templum.

Barbara spoke very firmly, lightly masking her order in sisterly sweetness.

“No Castra, you are not going to improve in your Latin if you don’t use it,”

She spoke her sentence in common then translated it into Latin. She then spoke with emphasis.

“You are a Roman officer, you need to use Latin. Your father needs you to.”

Castra straightened at the rebuke and nodded, repeating back Barbara’s words.

“I am a Roman Officer, I need to use Latin.”

“My father needs me too.” Pollux repeats.

Well there is one other who is on the pedestal with me.

Barbara then spoke a quote first in Elvish then in Latin.

"’Upon the conduct of each depends, the fate of all.”

Barbara then leaned towards Castra.

“...as Alexander would say.”

Castra suddenly turns red. Pollux snickers.

"Oh, Alexander said that? Well…that’s a good quote. I guess I should try a little harder then."

Castra’s face suddenly grew a strange resolve.

Ok, so that was a bit of a cheat. That was a quote from Alexander…the one from Pliny’s world. But I'm sure once I tell him that, he will start using it too.

Pollux tries to change the subject.

“Barbara, are you ready for the feast tonight? Castra and I have been preparing the meal, I think you are really going to like it.”

Even when he was just trying to keep us alive, Pollux - “Cook” back then always tried to make the food more pleasant. Got himself sick a couple times tasting different leaves and berries to flavor the broth.

“I really don’t know anything about what your house has planned. Perhaps you could tell me?” “As my twin said, we know a lot about the food…but we can’t tell you. Family secrets.” Castra gave her best attempt at a mysterious smile, as she adjusted the band holding her red hair behind her ears in a ponytail. “You’ll have to wait till the feast itself,”

“Or you could join our house…ow” Pollux muttered before Castra jabbed him in the ribs. Their horses snorted as if they too are no longer surprised by their bickering.

Castra tries to put on her ‘domina’ facade again.

“We will continue our patrol and report back. Uh Vale.’

Pollux nodded. The two made an awkward salute.

“Hyah”

What they hoped would be a quick gallop away, lingered for a moment as Castra and Pollux were shaking the reins of his immoble steed.

“Come on Apicus, your making me look bad!” Pollux whined.

Barbara saluted and trotted off, shaking her head.

Barbara and Tranquilitas rides towards the camp, seeing the gate in the distance.

Alexander seems to have quite a way with the girls… women of the village.

Barbara thought

Even she felt a warmth and attraction when he walked past and grinned.

Why? I never gave "Hunter" a second thought and neither did "Cook's" Sister "Bird-Catcher."

She tries to remember Hunter as he was. Hunter was just the scrawny little kid who when it was hot wore his father’s green trousers and nothing else. The wild boy who grinned when he brought home a squirrel or rabbit he trapped. Or feeling playful would hide in the trees to scare her.

She stops herself. A large green bird startles her as it flies out of the forest into one of the pockets of sunlight.

But he wasn't a kid was he?

None of them actually were. It was easier than admitting the truth.

Pliny says we are a few days from Spring equinox. Daylight is getting longer.

She tried to think back to days she was suddenly surprised it was so dark, then walked back from those memories. It still made her nauseous to think.

We thought they were coming back any day…they were already rot.

But now the mask is lifted, once the shock wore off she and the others embraced the structure the two Romans offered. A chariot of wicker and wood came rushing past her. On it two of Pompanianus’ Dryadae. The chariot covered in baskets, and the dryads in javelins. A foraging expedition.

We threw ourselves into it, Latin, horsemanship, trade. At first we just wanted to not think about our past. Then…

She saw the large wooden gate and door loom over her. They built this, The Romans gave them direction, but it was their hands. For the first time in their lives the world bent to them.

The house they first built that night was there, sitting unceremoniously outside of the wall. Repurposed into a sentry tower, but for Barbara it was an ornate gate.

We looked at ourselves and each other again, and it was like meeting for the first time. That first feast.,,

Pomponianus held to celebrate the construction of the wall. A feast that in hindsight feels dismal. Broth, eggs, foraged vegetables. But for her that day, the feast was the first full day in her life. Every second burned into her mind.

The way we looked at each other that day. In our tunics, and our washed faces and groomed hair. We first saw each other not as starving kids in endless days, but as men and women.

She passes by the large log gate that is opened for her, she gives her salutes to Marcus Pomponianus, and Regulus Plinius.

“Ave Barbara.” They said.