"Decimus Hantia Urbana Mithrias"
She jumped at the use of her full name. While Urbana demanded it so often in the past, hating the informality permeating the frontier mentality the small town reveled in. This was not the post her uncle promised, no chance for glory, money or meeting a suitable mate.
Turning slowly, her breath ran out in a soft rush. The numen standing there proved not who she expected. "Dom Strabo." She gave the Legion salute, arm out, angled between level and upright, palm turned to her own face.
"Custora Hantia." He returned the salute sharply. "Just a courtesy call upon the local commander." The smile told the words certainly lies.
"His office is two buildings towards the mountains. Not here in supply." Eyes narrowing, Urbana let her suspicions show. "Courtesy? Surely the Decemviri need not show such to that lowly Quintilus barbarian."
Chuckles from outside warned her others listened. Not Custos, not locals.
"Indeed, it is a courtesy, to remind the fool who rules all Numeni affairs. No member of the island clans should be relegated to the supply depot as a posting." Meeting her gaze with one taking her measure, he adjusted his tunic slowly, proudly displaying the blue "C" on the left shoulder.
Urbana bit her lip, holding back a sharp retort. That letter marked the elf as a member of the Centuria Sinistra, the conservatives' bully-boys. Three purges of the Legions and other Centuries, the elite units under the Imperatrix's command, carried out brutally by the one unit never looked at in those pograms. Even though she'd been born on the islands, Urbana feared the man suddenly. Cato of Strabo clan led those purges, each time his arrival marked dark days for the units visited.
Cato looked around the room, dust from several recent procellae pluvis coated most surfaces, stirring off the floor with every step taken. His sour face spoke volumes about his feelings about one of her gens being reduced to such a job. The jangle of metal told her that beneath the tunic lay chain mail armor. Not surprising, this Cato generated much animosity from other gens. At his hip, a sheathed gladius rode, positioned for swift use.
Daring speech at last, Urbana cleared her throat, summoning up memories long disused. "In the service, all are equals." Not the best justification for her being relegated into supply, though surely one he should accept.
Hard stare tossed at her told her otherwise. His fingers ran over armillae of brass protecting his forearms. Bracers carrying the seal of the Decemviri, the ten clans ruling body. "Those of the Insulae should command, not follow." Terse words, sharply delivered stung her pride.
"Even you started as a simple miles caligatus, if the tales told about you bear truth." Urbana took a step toward the numen, refusing his insults, but letting her anger show her pride for serving. "This is not the Insulae, this is Terra Prima. Even if in drudgery, service in the Imperatrix's name must bear some merit." Urbana saw his eyes shift uneasily. She'd scored, perhaps even drawn figurative blood.
Now his face bore contempt for her, not the place. Urbana winced, knowing enemies made early in one's lustre, the five years one agreed to serve, followed one to the end, and sometimes beyond. She tugged on the sleeves of her own tunica manicata, revealing her armor also lay hidden as her own armillae of leather peaked out. Her acinias rattled against her chair, still behind her, unused today.
"You stain the blood you bear, allowing others this use of your superior skills." Sniffing the air, he turned away. "I can only stand the smell of mouldering material so long. Such odors irritate my sinuses." His stride defiant, Cato left her behind.
Urbana blew out a held breath. Inhaling slowly to calm herself worked only marginally. Others might grasp at the rope Strabo dangled, she knew better. Too many tales reached her ears, stories about betrayals or prices too high weighed against the rewards offered. Turning back to her desk, she once again began her inventory from the top. Anger chased off her memory of where she'd reached in the list.
The horarium on her desk rotated twice before her next interruption, red sands barely beginning their flow down the stem, seeking the empty flask below. This pest proved polite, which stayed her anger from flaring up again. Knocking at the door before entering, waiting there for her to acknowledge entry. This time, she marked the sheet for her spot, then turned. A young numen she only knew by camp rumors stood there. Dark haired, soft brown eyes, and a smiling face. Dressed much as her, though the materials spoke rougher origins, wool instead of silks, plain common leathers where she wore embossed hides of rare beasts. One from the prairies above the desert, a Quintas, related to the commander, acting as his aide-de-camp for a short time.
"Varus Billenius, correct? What equipment lost you this time?" His mouth formed a sly smile, one making her regret her accusation. Of all the Caterva, he alone came here once since her tenure as gubenatrix began. Thinking of that name for her position made her own mouth curl up in mirth. A naval term for a land-locked unit still amused her to no end.
"Oh, I recovered that missing saddle. Quite a bit of other items reported missing lately. I have them outside for you." He nodded when shock stole over her face, making her blush more. "Seems one of our light fingered cousins, a Colacarius from the eastern tribes, took a loose view about ownership. Unfortunately, he suffered serious losses in a game of stakes last night that some kinsmen and I attended."
Morning in the cibus hall buzzed of tales of the ones called the Tres Triconis, three mishcief-makers. It seemed the Legion rotation from the east passing through carried a member, who met another on the road outside town. Later they gathered in this one, at least according to the gossip, for a night of mayhem and adventures. Urbana felt her joy fall from her face. While the books would balance for now, she doubted the tribunis aerarius' attitude would improve when the damage bills arrived.
"And will the tribes seek vengeance for these returned goods?:" Laying all her Decimus accent into the words, hoping the boy might flinch a bit.
He laughed. "Oh, no need to worry. His blood stayed inside him. Well, most of it. His coins and the goods did not. Marcus Urias asked I give you the funds won. Something about bolstering our supplies for winter." Swift paces carried him to her desk, where he negligently tossed not one, but six large bags of coins. Each bag was open, spilling drachmas, tungsten semi-obals and even a few local staters across the oak desktop.
Coughing her surprise, Urbana reached out to the coins. "There must be over a trimester of pay here. I find it hard to believe Urias let that slide."
Again the light-hearted laughter. "Oh, he took out two trimesters for pay already. Very pleased with this months books, our Marcus appears." One eye winked, adding her into some conspiracy, she assumed. "So pleased, I earned a bonus bag of vittlium for my self. Enough coppers to buy wine and pastries for the next few hebdomium."
Mentioning few with the plural of the fourteen day numeni week caught her off guard further.
Urbana's head shook, disbelief in such chances strong among her people. "Remind me never to take chances against you, young Varus."
He waved off such an event. "Oh, and the dux wishes your presence in his office." Now the mirth faded. "That fool of a Cato is there agitating for you. Unfortunately, he overstepped his bounds. Rudely, by my uncle's sour disposition." Black mane stirred around a shaking head. "Never try to pull rank on someone not in your chain of command. Mother told me that as a boy. His mother must not spoken as wisely to him."
Urbana laughed. "I am sure I will pay the price for Sextus Strabo Cato's meddling, Custor. And do so gladly, just to see him swallow his bitter medicine."
Winking one more time, the young numen bowed elaborately, with more skill and flourish than many at court, the years she attended at her mother's side. "Indeed. Well, that bodes well for you, then." Rising up more somber, the boy nodded to her. "May I take leave, letting you hold these funds, or wait until your staff returns from lunch?"
A grimace twisted her face, painfully so. Then the muses gave her a light inspiration. "No, I think the Dux would prefer that I discharge my duties faithfully, even if it keeps Stabo cooling his heels in his foyer." Taking a risk, she winked back at him, hoping the boy would not assume she flirted. "That is, if some songbird in the camp could sing such outside his window. Or inside it."
The scamp gave her a broad toothed smile, setting a finger along his nose. "I think I know where those little birds take their lunch, Gubenatrix. Considered that song sung."
The coins took her attention away from his departure. Shaking her head, she took a seat to enjoy adding them to her small account for goods not normally provided by headquarters. When she sat back, another turn of the horarium to the blue sands marking the fading of the hour, her face held shock. Nearly a five hundred drachma lay before her, and even more in the obals. Another pile held coins she never saw before, currency of lands distant or small. Securing them in her desk, she smiled. The Gubenator himself at last arrived, taking the inventory list from her.
He spoke softly. "I see we regained some gear outside."
"The Dux's aide recovered it. He also gained us some coin. Here is the list of coins I know. Your left drawer has nearly a quarter stone I have no idea the values of." Urbana shrugged at his raised eyebrow. "Sheltered life we ladies lead in the islands. I am supposed to report to the Dux as well."
Her boss's mouth turned down at that. "Seeking a way out?"
She smiled. "Actually, someone else thinks this work is beneath me, so I let him stew with the commander until you got back." Glancing at the coins on the desk, she sighed. "That left-hander probably screwed up staying here. I hate the dust, but no force can operate until you know what they need."
When her eyes met the Gubenator's, there was a twinkle there. "I saw Cato. It pleases me to hear your desires may not be what he works for." A sharp arm motion shooed her along. "Go, I am sure any delay is enough to infuriate that fool. You are relieved, Custora Hantia."
Urbana smiled, gave him a sloppy, but honest salture, leaving behind the dust, in eexchange for the unknown before her. The walk across the open muster ground challenged her coordination, a turma returning from patrol forcing her to weave amid fellow Custos dismounting or removing saddles. Of the twenty who left two hebdoma before, only fifteen returned. That left her wondering how somber the meal would be that evening.
Entering the small office the Dux kept, the smallest in the compound, she looked at those in the outer office, A fellow islander, one long in the desert by the looks of him.
"Took your sweet time, Hantia." No rank, no acknowledging her service to the Imperatrix. Just contempt. The boy sat behind the desk, a look of worry on his face over the words the other spoke.
Urbana found her attitude souring rapidly from the joy dealing with just young Varus set in her heart.
"Custor Dives, is it not? I find you lacking in manners, for one who claims Insular blood." Hand rested on the hilt of her acinias. "Care to greet me properly? Or would you prefer a duel out in the dust of the muster grounds?" She kept her voice soft and level, something not normal for her.
Contempt twisted the filthy Custor's face. "You may wish to rethink that. I am the best swordsman here. No Numen can beat me."
"This young elf here could whip you, one hand behind his back." Varus started at her praising him before his elder. Doubt tinted his eyes, wrinkling their corners in lines he was far too young to possess.
Standing, her challenger laid his hand on his own hilt. "Proud of your blood, suddenly. Good. Your death will be long and painful."
"Enough!" A deep voice intruded from the office door. "Take your seat Custor, and both of you remove your hands from those blades. We lost enough people this season. Especially under your command, Dives."
The Dux stood there, short even by elven standards. Light brown hair bleaching into blond from years in the desert. Hints of grey lay in his neat goatee. "Custora Hantia, I believe I sent for you half a glass ago."
Turning with a shallow bow to her commander, Urbana apologized softly. "Forgive me, Dux. I could not in good faith leave my post until relieved. Someone turned in a considerable amount of recovered gear reported stolen the last few days. Not to mention having a large amount of funds left for the Gubenator to secure when he returned."
The boy at the desk shrank back from the harsh glance the commander tossed at him. "So I heard." Eyes hardened a bit, as his face sought her eyes. "Very well. Good thinking. I could use more of that, not the reckless plunges some take." Only his eyes moved towards the still standing Turma leader. That glance proved enough to make the arrogant numen remove his hand finally, taking back his seat along the wall.
Urbana looked at the boy, still worried about the discussion he knew to come over his antics. She gave him that conspiratorial wink he delivered earlier. "All life is a risk, sir. Some take them to get the job done. Others do it for the fame the acts garner onto their name." Her eyes darted her nemesis along the wall, even though her voice stayed even.
"Get in here, we seem to have an issue over your posting." The Dux performed a parade ground about face into his office. Urbana followed him there trying to hold her bearing, but the smile she tossed at the boy ruined that.
Inside, Cato waited. His eyes spoke the anger in him. Waiting for others definitely irritated him, and upset his schedule. Good, Urbana thought.
"At ease, we don't deal with formalities in this office, Custora." Despite the command, she stayed upright. Just to make a point to the meddler. Noting her stance, tossing eyes towards his visitor, the Dux sighed. "Very well. It seems you have never done any tours in the field as yet. This is an issue for some factions in the government, apparently. So, you will be released from supply to take a special mission, under the tutelage of an experienced member of the Caterva." The long pause apparently left for her to fill stayed silent.
A hint of a smile touched the commander's face. "Very well, you will go out with Custor Dives, to ride with a caravan as surveyors and guards. You will go on this, if you are wise, or so I am told."
The harsh glare the Dux tossed at Cato warned her not to question her orders.
"Yes sir."
Cato stood suddenly, a warrior looking for his fight. "Leni, enter!"
The commander's face twisted at the presumed authority the Centurion took in his office. "That man still serves under my command."
The stressed word bit hard on Cato, who turned to him. "I speak for the Decuria." The body of the ten elders mention did nothing to the Dux.
"And I take orders only from the Imperatrix or the Praetor. Keep that in mind, Sextus Strabo Cato." Voice level, the Dux met the Centurion's venomous stare."I do this only as a favor. One you will return later, or pay the price in blood or coin for."
Eyes narrowing, Cato nodded after a moment, acknowledging the debt. "Very well."
At the door, Dives smiled grimly. "She is under my command? Totally?"
"No." One word crushed the Custor's look of satisfaction. "She is your student, but independent on her work. She reports back to me after this." Glaring at the slovenly dressed numen, the Dux refused to budge further. "Take it or leave it. I feel this is already giving you both more than you deserve, considering I am not under the rule of a body that is only for rule over the Insulae, not the rest of the Empire."
"For now, you are correct. Someday soon, we will rule. Then you will pay for this insolence towards your betters." Cato stormed out after his tirade.
The Dux now met the Custor's eyes. "Accept it or turn in your resignation, Decimus Dives Billenius Orestes. I care less which happens."
"For now, I accept. But there will be repercussions some day." He glanced towards Urbana. "After I have washed this dust off me, I will speak with you about our mission." Dives departed more peacefully, stopping to make comment to the aide softly.
Urbana let her gaze roam the room before speaking. She noted few decorations, much like the rooms the troops lived in. Even the cot was standard issue. Upon meeting his somber gaze, she bowed her head in shame. "I did not ask for this, Dom."
Letting her comment sit several fingers of sand, the Dux sat easily behind the desk. When he spoek, it was just as soft. "I was not sure. Thank you for that honesty." When she raised her eyes, somber brown orbs met her gaze. "He will twist you out there. Be true to yourself and the codes. Don't trust him. Most of his loses in personnel rise off his rashness." He held her regard for a moment longer. "Make sure you return, Custora Hantia. Dismissed."
In the outer room, Urbana found Dives and young Varus, standing, faces flushed a deep olive from anger. Her new teacher gave her a grim stare.
"Tomorrow, find us a caravan to travel with. We have the crossing to map and the northern trails." Dives turned away, stalking outside to find some other to inconvenience.
Looking to the young man, she saw regret mixed with the anger in his eyes. "He took out his anger on you?"
Shaking his head, the boy took his seat, pulling out several old maps from the desk. "No. This is an older argument, uncle thinks. He desired a certain numena, she rejected him." Meeting her eyes slowly, he said words she never thought to hear. "Once he was a great man, Custora. He served with my parents in the Crystal Wastes. But something has changed, even since I was a child. Be wary of his recklessness. The risks he takes are with the lives of others, not his own."
Nodding, she accepted the maps. "Any more good news?"
"I know where you can get an equeis for this trip. A good one."
She turned to him, puzzled at the generosity. "Where?"
He smiled. "I will loan you my stud. The mare is gravid, so he is getting cranky here. Good runner, Excellent speed, and best of all, it will irritate your teacher, as I never let him even buy equeis of my string."
Cocking an eyebrow was all she needed to convey her question.
"He abuses animals, people, and equipment. You have no such tales told of you. I will loan him to you, just bring him back. I have plans for the line he is siring." Standing, the young man held out his left hand. "Good luck, Custora. I hope to serve with you someday.
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