Rainer stretched his legs out into a more comfortable position, then called out with a lazy drawl that carried across the clearing.
"Auxiliaries! Sounds like you wanna go fishing! Unfortunately, we're west of the Carpathian mountain range. As far as I know, there are no rivers for that around here!"
The words hung in the air like a slap.
The soldiers froze, exchanging looks of disbelief. Had the slave just talked back—without bowing, without deference?! Insolence like that begged for the cudgel!
With a silent nod of agreement, they advanced; hobnail sandals struck the earth in a metallic rhythm, armor clinking with each step. The sound was deliberate, predatory, like wolves closing in on a cornered deer.
They stopped before him, looming tall as their eyes gleamed with the promise of violence.
"When slaves address milites, they speak with deference," one of them growled, his tone grudging, and breath sour with wine.
Rainer squinted up at him, gaze lingering on the man's teeth—long, jutting incisors abnormally protruding out.
"Uh-huh," he muttered, unimpressed.
Then he turned to Cormac, who stood stiff and imposing. Their eyes locked, and for the briefest moment, Rainer caught it—a flicker of apprehension in the man's gaze.
Rainer's smirk sharpened, gaze turning icy as he asked.
"What about you, big guy? Anything to add to…" He turned back to the unfamiliar soldier, raising a questioning brow.
The man puffed up his chest.
"I am Bato!" he barked.
"Right," Rainer said flatly, before swinging his attention back to Cormac.
"Anything to add to what Teetho over here said?"
Bato froze, disbelief washing over his face.
Cormac's scowl deepened, and with practiced ease, lowered his spear until the tip hovered an inch from Rainer's chest.
"Watch your words carefully, slave." He warned in a hard tone.
Rainer's gaze drifted down to the spearpoint, then back up to Cormac's eyes before scoffing.
"Funny, you act tough now. But I recall you running like a little girl the moment I climbed out of that grave."
He chuckled softly at the memory, but the mirth vanished as quickly as it came, and his tone darkened.
"I reckon you wouldn't be as lucky, if I'm forced to rise to my feet."
Furious, Bato's grip on his spear tightened and he stepped forward, but Rainer's eyes locked onto his with a predator's hunger—daring him to take another step.
The challenge was unmistakable, and Bato faltered, stalling his advance.
The tension stretched taut until Cormac withdrew his spear and shoved his partner's arm back.
"Let's go," he snapped. "We shouldn't waste time on a slave!"
Bato scoffed, spitting on the ground—the glob landing just shy of Rainer's foot.
"You are fortunate we have to patrol the premises!"
Scowling, Bato turned and left without another word.
Watching them leave, Rainer exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge with mock disappointment.
"These soldiers need more backbone."
He sighed, then with a huff, he rose, brushing dirt from his tunic. Turning toward the tree. He observed the crude target carved into the bark, it was clean and markless. His spear was embedded low, lodged in the roots.
Rainer shifted his weight to one foot with a troubled, scrutinizing gaze.
'To think my spear throws couldn't reach the target from 30 meters away. This is hard.'
The night before, he had practiced his spear throws from thirty meters away, then 25 meters. It was only at 20 meters—giving everything he had, that the spear reached the tree's root. Above that, the spear always fell short, no matter how much strength he poured into the toss.
His shoulders ached at the mere memory.
With muscles sore from overuse, Rainer figured any training involving his hands were out of the question for the day.
With a sigh, he glanced up at a thick branch.
'Might as well do that training today.'
At that thought, he swung his rope up, looped it, and tied a knot. Using it as a stirrup, he climbed onto the branch and sat for a moment, steadying his breath.
Stripping off his tunic, he revealed a torso crisscrossed with whip scars and pale ridges against olive skin. After tying his belt, he leaned back and let himself fall—only to hook his knees at the last instant, leaving himself dangling upside down.
For a moment, blood rushed to his head and the world spun, but he soon shook it off.
"Well! This is going to be hard. But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."
He laced his hands behind his head and arched upward with a groan, abs tightening like iron bands. He dropped back down, then rose again.
Through several reps, his skin had become slick, and sweat dribbled steadily down his temples.
Time passed and he pushed on, having built a steady rhythm. Over time, his muscles ached and his bones strained, but the pain helped sharpen his focus...
A focus that faltered at the steadily increasing sounds of hooves.
A horse trotted over, its gait steady, until it slowed to a stop before him, breathing hard from the journey.
Rainer had since shut his eyes against the sting of sweat, so he didn't see the rider who halted before him. He only felt that the person's aura was familiar.
'A horse? A familiar presence? It could only be Flavius!'
"Hrgh!" he groaned, forcing himself up as he spoke. "Hold on a moment, Flavius. Just a few reps more."
He swung down again, expecting Flavius' loud boasts about something he accomplished, or an inquiry on the point of this training.
But the voice that answered was not Flavius'.
It was smooth, feminine, and—amused.
"I've never seen milites train this way in all my life."
Rainer's eyes snapped open, and he blinked through sweat to find himself staring down at a pair of sweaty mounds graced by sunlight.
"Ah!"
His mouth fell open, and Nantosvelta couldn't help but giggle, eyes bright as she looked up at him.
"Forgive me, Rainer. Does my presence distract you?"
Rainer was taken aback, but then he shook his head furiously.
"Wh-what? No!" He scoffed, resuming his crunches.
"Definitely not! As a matter of fact, you're welcome to stay right there."
He offered, however, this time he made sure to keep his eyes open every time he swung down—even as the sweat burned and stung his eyes red, like a mule made to pull a supply crate from Britannia and back, without a single apple.
Nantosvelta smiled softly at his antics, then glanced around the clearing.
"I was on my way back to our lodging at Apulum when I thought of you—and made a stop to see how you fared."
She paused, frowned slightly, then shook her head disapprovingly at a memory.
"Veliona is my dear stepsister. She can be—violent, but she did enjoy the duel. She also hopes you weren't too hurt."
Her sincerity was disarming, and Rainer couldn't help but smile.
However, her gaze soon drifted higher, and—she noticed a bulge in his trousers.
"Oh!" she exclaimed lightly.
Rainer panicked at her shout and rolled off the branch, landing in a crouch, before springing upright.
He turned his back quickly and faced the tree.
"Uh...wow! What a bark! Such exquisite grooves and sexy–ahem! Holey whorl. Truly nature's masterpiece!" He praised, nodding with feigned interest.
Behind him, Nantosvelta smiled gently.
"I am glad you appear in good health. Veliona will be at ease as well."
"Uh-huh!" Rainer nodded too quickly, pressing a flattened palm to his forehead as though scanning the horizon.
Nantosvelta adjusted her pennon, reins in hand, and turned her horse.
"You are pleasant to be with, Rainer. Perhaps I'll visit again?"
She offered and Rainer glanced back with an embarrassed smile.
"Who knows..."
Nantosvelta's smile faltered, and Rainer smirked.
"I might be the one doing the visiting next." His brows did a small wiggle.
Her cheeks flushed and she giggled.
"Bold! I am pleased. Until we meet again, Rainer."
With that, she drove her steed into motion and rode off, the gallops fading into the distance.
Rainer let out a long, exhausted sigh, and returned his attention to the forest path in the distance.
Dust rose, and the ground trembled.
A turma of thirty armored horsemen emerged, their formation precise, followed by columns of marching infantry—freshly picked recruits to reinvigorate the cohort.
Rainer's smirk returned as a knowing look lit his eyes.
"It seems the old fox is back." He grinned darkly.
However, upon taking a step forward, muscle cramps gripped his stomach like a bear trap, and he crumpled to the floor, curling up in agony.
"Ohh, for fack's sake!!!"