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  Tiberius had often pondered the idea of making Kanii his first admiral. He decided that two things withheld him from making that decision, as Kanii was more than capable of performing the position adequately; for one, Tiberius still wasn't sure if he trusted her enough yet, and two, Tiberius selfishly wanted Kanii to remain in her present position, as secretly he simply liked having her around. However, Tiberius decided that his current judgment on the matter could change at anytime, and should it change, Raulph would be the obvious candidate to take over command of the Andromeda. Was that the reason Raulph never made mention of promotion? Perhaps; it's possible Raulph was intelligent enough to simply ride the wave, waiting for Tiberius to make his inevitable decision.

  Tiberius winced as he touched the cloth which currently covered is now vacant eye-socket. The pain was still excruciating, though not nearly as awful as it had been before he had fallen asleep. The wound throbbed, continuously reminding him of what he had lost, of what the vile Legatus Malcus who, as Eleven had hesitantly informed him not long ago, was still alive and well had taken from him. But, of course, the pain would eventually fade, and Tiberius understood that the most difficult part was, and would continue to be, in training his body to function as it had before, with the use of only one eye. Tiberius had already found that the true difficulty he faced without the use of both of his eyes was in compensating for a decreased depth perception; something which wouldn't perhaps make a big difference when regarding the day-to-day, but dueling practice however, would need to become a high priority.

  Tiberius turned his attention to the six soldiers who had previously been stationed on board to sail and defend him upon his escape. Two had fallen to stray arrows leaving only Raulph and the six which now worked the ship as the stationed crew's survivors. Tiberius had no idea how many had survived the shield wall, but he did know, by what he had seen, that the number of survivors would be small indeed.

  Tiberius, had to admit that he was moved by the bravery of his men, as they fought a losing battle in a valiant effort to rescue their commander. While watching for a brief moment from his ship after sounding the retreat, he had taken note that not one of his men had retreated before the command was given. They, all of them, stood their ground for loyalty's sake, resolute in their cause, with strength and bravery. Tiberius soon would write down all of the survivor's names in his personal notebook that he kept below deck, which he had titled, “The Loyal and The Valiant”.

  It was a cold, but sunny day at sea and Tiberius listen to the short swells which were currently being parted by the Andromeda's bow while it briskly sliced through the water. He looked up at the sky to gauge the height of the sun which indicated that it was near noon as the mildly icy wind blew through his hair. Then, Tiberius again turned his gaze to look across the endless ocean.

  It was peaceful today, fairly calm and serene. The wind which blew from the Southeast filled the ship's sails, causing the Andromeda to cruise along at a relatively slow but active pace, and while making these observations, Tiberius' mind turned again to more present matters.

  “Soldier,” called Tiberius to someone nearby.

  “Yes my Lord,” responded the soldier as he approached.

  “Fetch the prisoner and bring her to me.”

  “As you wish,” the soldier replied before leaving to do as Tiberius had commanded.

  Tiberius stood facing away from Gretel as she emerged from below moments later, escorted by two soldiers. He then turned to face her before she spoke in reference to his missing eye, “It seems as if you have returned with fewer parts than you left with.”

  Ignoring Gretel, Tiberius immediately responded, “You might be pleased to learn that I have at last come to a proper test; it is simple and brief. Should you offer the correct answer to the question which I'm about to ask, then you are indeed who you claim to be. However, if you answer incorrectly, then you will die. Are you prepared to respond to my inquisition?

  “Ask and I will answer.”

  Tiberius then continued, “Very well, then no more time should be wasted. What is the name of your mother?”

  Gretel replied without pause, “Our mother's name was Helga.”

  Tiberius, taken back by Gretel's correct answer, grew silent. He then turned back toward the sea, leaning forward on the rail.

  Could it be true?

  Tiberius knew, at this point, that reason dictated Gretel must be telling the truth, as there was no other logical explanation to explain how she would be able to know that name; unless she was working for Malcus, but he thought that very doubtful. Tiberius also came to the realization that, judging by his own surprise at the fact that she had answered correctly, he had indeed expected her to die today.

  Regaining control of his thoughts, keeping his word, and choosing to remain on the side of reason, Tiberius spoke, “Release Gretel from her chains; she is no longer a prisoner here.”

  Tiberius could hear the clinking iron as Gretel's shackles were being removed. Then, after the noises stopped, he waited a moment or two before he turned to face the sweat soaked, golden haired rebel. She looked toward him with an awkward look that asked; do you believe me now?

  Suddenly Tiberius became overwhelmed with both feelings of joy and at the same time regret, as he began to accept what he now understood must be the truth.

  Immediately, Tiberius moved forward to embrace the woman which stood before him. Gretel opened her arms, in turn welcoming the gesture. Then, as they both stood in reunions warm embrace, Tiberius spoke, “Forgive me sister.”

  Gretel quickly followed, her voice little more than a whisper, “There is nothing to forgive.”

  They stood together for some time, arms wrapped around each other, quietly relishing the moment. Tiberius' attention then shifted to his escort ship as it neared on the Andromeda's port side. He gently moved out of Gretel's grasp, turning slightly to his left as he spoke, “There are so many things which I wish to discuss, so many questions... We have so much to catch up on, but for now I must return to business, after all, I am still the legatus of this army.”

  Gretel replied with a smile as she swiped at a tear or two which had fallen down her cheeks a few moments ago, “Of course, and I have many questions for you as well. But I suppose it can wait a little longer.”

  Tiberius responded with a smile before fully turning toward the approaching vessel, “Indeed.”

  A little more time passed as Tiberius and Gretel watched the separate crews tethered the two ships together.

  Tiberius had been significantly relieved upon seeing that both Kanii and Zackarius were alive and well. Despite growing somewhat fond of Kanii, had he lost her she would have been truly difficult to replace, and as for Zackarius; well, he liked the kid. However, he would be remiss to admit that all of his worry was gone, as he did take note of the fact that Jaimus was not among them.

  Where is that old man?

  “Oh, it's so good to see you again,” said Kanii as she set foot on the Andromeda before walking straight past Tiberius, continuing on until she began gently caressing the wooden mast.

  “I wasn't sure you'd make it,” Kanii continued.

  “Well Captain, when you're done making love to the ship I'd like to speak to you,” said Tiberius after rolling his eyes.

  Kanii, ignoring Tiberius, leaned forward to kiss the mast before leaning back to speak as she patted the Andromeda in a loving gesture, “Ugh, I know, he always does that, so impatient. (Sigh...) Well we'll have to catch up some other time.”

  Some of the soldiers who stood about looked at each other with puzzled expressions; expressions which revealed the fact that, at the moment, they clearly questioned the woman's sanity. Then, as Kanii turned to look about, the soldiers which had stopped their work to stand and casually gawk, immediately looked away, resuming whatever task they had previously been performing.

  The captain, making steps toward the annoyed Tiberius, continued, “Well, thank you for keeping my ship in one piece, Praetor.�
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  “You mean my ship?” responded Tiberius.

  “Oh, technicalities, technicalities,” replied Kanii with an over exaggerated eye roll, before resuming, “You know, I'd think you should be more grateful, because if I recall correctly, it was I who just got done saving your sorry ass.”

  After making a quick glance at Eleven, who raised his head instantly to look in her direction from the corner which he sat in, Kanii corrected, “Well, Eleven helped a little of course, but I did all of the heavy lifting.”

  Kanii then looked back at the masked man who was still staring directly at her. She again rolled her eyes before correcting herself, “Okay, alright, a lot of the heavy lifting. There, are you satisfied enough not to kill me in my sleep now.”

  Eleven chuckled under his mask before responding, “I will not kill you unless the praetor wishes it. However, if the praetor no longer concerned himself with your well-being... I wouldn't kill you in your sleep, that I promise.”

  Kanii watched for a moment as the ruthless assassin turned his attention back to the piece of wood which he had been whittling. She subtly gulped before looking back to see Tiberius' equally subtle grin forming, “Anything else Captain?”

  There was a brief pause before Kanii gave reply, “Nope, I Uh... I think that's it.”

  “Good, I was going to thank you for staying to make my escape possible; so thank you. Also I commend your success, and you as well Zackarius; I caught a glimpse of you fighting on the battlefield, you stood your ground beside some of my best warriors, well done.”

  Before either Kanii or Zackarius had a chance to respond, Tiberius went on, “Now where is Jaimus?”

  Zackarius began to speak but was quickly cut off by Kanii, “He um... he didn't make it to the ships before we left. We don't know what happened to him.”

  “I see, well he may still be alive, the man is nothing if not crafty. I suppose all we can do at this point is hope for the best,” Tiberius responded.

  “I did receive an old tattered book which I assumed he meant to deliver to you,” Zackarius said, speaking up.

  “Really? Well good, do you still have it?”

  “I placed it below deck next to your other things before going into battle; it should still be there,” Zackarius answered.

  “Very well,” acknowledged Tiberius before he continued, turning his attention back to Kanii, “Let us cut this short as we are currently, no doubt as we speak, being pursued by Malcus' fleet under the authority of none other than the emperor himself. You are to resume your post as acting captain of the Andromeda, and as such make the appropriate transfers and have us on course to arrive at my Army's encampment on the eastern coast of the Red Isles as soon as possible.

  “Of course,” responded Kanii.

  “And Kanii, do what you do best, we are under the clock,” continued Tiberius.

  “Have I ever failed you before,” replied Kanii with a mischievous smile.

  “No, but you worry me sometimes,” Tiberius finished.

  At that Kanii laughed before saying, “That's because you need to loosen up, Commander.”

  Immediately after she finished speaking to Tiberius, Kanii turned and began shouting her orders. Tiberius then walked over to his favorite spot and sat, motioning for Gretel to sit beside him. After seating herself, Gretel spoke first, “She's quite something.”

  Tiberius chuckled before replying, “Indeed, that she is. She's a little crazy, but she gets the job done; and better, she probably hates the Empire more than you do.”

  “I don't know about that.”

  A few moments of silence followed as Tiberius and Gretel leaned back, watching the newly formed puffy clouds move here and there across the skies canvas. Then, after once again checking his bandage with two fingers, Tiberius asked, “Tell me, what was our mother like?”

  Chapter 15

  Day 11

  The legatus' eyes suddenly opened from a restful sleep. Then, as the commander rose slowly to a sitting position, he rubbed his still groggy eyes before moving his arms to stretch out as he yawned. His elaborate officers tent was close enough to the camp to hear thousands of soldiers moving about their business, but far enough away that the ruckus caused by the soldiers was not enough to completely shatter the relatively peaceful morning which Justinian had just awoken to.

  After Justinian stood up from his featherbed, he dressed himself in proper uniform before reaching for the sword which was sitting upon his nightstand. Justinian, then walked out of the bedroom after pushing aside the separation curtain, and waltzed into the main room where a personal servant, two guards, and a servant of Legatus Cristoff stood in anticipation of Legatus Justinian's emergence.

  The main room bore two tent flaps at the front, a large, squared, chart table to Justinian's right, near the center, and a small circular dining table surrounded by three chairs which currently stood in front of Justinian near the tent flaps.

  As soon as Justinian made his appearance, his servant then moved to open the tent flaps before tying them in place, giving an eagle's eye view of the truly vast encampment from the dining table which sat inside the officers tent as it rested on an overlooking hilltop. After flitting his hand, a motion which told the guards that they were relieved, he spoke to Cristoff's servant, “Yes, what is it?”

  “My legatus has sent me to inform you that he might be a tad late this morning.”

  Justinian then responded, “I see, and what is it this time?”

  “Which answer would you prefer my Lord, his exact words, or a more... proper accounting?”

  “What did he tell you to say, specifically?”

  “Well my Lord if you wish, but I'm eager to remind you that they are his words, not mine.”

  “Of course, continue.”

  Nervously, the servant paused for a brief moment before going on as instructed, “Very well, Legatus Cristoff informed me specifically to tell you that; he has a hangover the size of your... damned ego, which subsequently will prevent him from being on time to another one of your useless, unnecessary, early-morning meetings...”

  The servant then stopped as if there was more but he was unwilling to continue.

  “Yes, continue,” ordered Justinian patiently, seemingly undisturbed by what the servant had just spoken.

  The servant then hesitantly went on, “Well, before I could leave to deliver the message he told me to also inform you that you are a...”

  The servant again paused for a long moment before finishing, “A pompous son of a whore.”

  Justinian then continued in a calm regal manner, “I see, well, inform Legatus Cristoff that if he doesn't get his drunken ass out of bed soon, then this pompous son of a whore is going to walk down there and drag him to our scheduled meeting by his own manhood. And please be sure to use my exact words.”

  “I... I will do as a commanded,” responded the servant with a bow before immediately making himself absent.

  As Justinian took a seat at the circular table, he observed the encampment below. Soldiers were moving to and fro by the thousands between the many simple tents which housed the men. He gazed at a few of the designated drill areas in the distance where many soldiers were being led by their field commanders in staying fit and prepared for war. He could hear the clashing of wood and steel, shouts, and even the faint echo of wordless conversation coming up to him from below.

  It was a brisk cold morning, and apart from a few puffy clouds which sailed through the sky on mild wind currents, it was bright and sunny. Justinian noted the weakening breeze as he looked past the camp to the ocean, in the far distance, which could barely be seen from his current position.

  The encampment stretched all the way out to the rocky beaches of Nooks Bay, the landscape in this area being relatively barren and uneven. By the majority of man's standard it was most assuredly an ugly place, but of course Justinian knew that in selecting this main rally point, attractive landscape was no doubt not in Tiberius' criteria. He selected it mainly beca
use of its easy accessibility due to the large protected bay that currently hosted the majority of Tiberius' vast armada, which boasted near eight hundred ships; and also because of the area's easy defensibility due to the many cliffs and obstacles which dotted the landscape.

  Justinian began to ponder what he would do and where he would go upon receiving his long-awaited leave after much of this army was disbanded. He new Cristoff, having no ambitions aside from drinking, bedding whores, and commanding legions, a combination which surprisingly fit together more often than not, would probably stay on to command Tiberius' personal legions, a sum totaling somewhere near sixty-five hundred Gahnen raiders. But, as for Justinian, he had other ambitions aside from war.

  Being the second son of the Lord of house Benedictus and King of Haaren, Claudius III, Justinian had spent quite a bit of time in Kingsgate whilst growing up. During his time there, since his father had many dealings with Danicus the previous Minister of Justice, he and Tiberius, near the same age, became good friends. He and Tiberius had been close ever since their days spent together in the capital, perhaps in part due to their many similar interests, but since, Justinian had grown just as tired of fighting the Empire's wars as Tiberius had. Justinian had seen enough of the true face of the Empire in his current position, and having received news that his older brother had recently died due to a horrendous accident, Justinian, as he thought about it more and more, decided that perhaps it was time to return home, taking his elder brother's place as heir to the throne of Haaren, and eventually Lord of house Benedictus.