Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

Lucius had left on the cover of the night. He was walking by the river when he looked around, decided that it was a good enough spot and sat down looking at the river swiftly flowing under the moonlight. Two weeks had passed since he had been rescued by a farmer, but he was still evaluating his situation. The family seemed nice enough. The youngest son spent most of his time bothering Lucius, trying to teach him their awful language. The oldest ignored him most of the time.

Lucius had been helpful around the farm. He feared that if he slacked too much, they would throw him away. He still left some hours available every day for training nonetheless. Since he had joined the legion, he had not missed training a single day until the day he died. But after his death, he had not trained until he had recovered from his wounds. He had only spent three days healing his wounds, and that was something that amazed him. He had been sure that he would die again. Before passing out and being found by the farmer's sons, he had seen that his wounds were infected and had no hope of surviving. Even if he survived, the recovery from injuries like those should have taken at least a few months, and no doubt his survival would have required an amputation.

He was sure that The White Being had given him some blessing. Even the colour of his eyes had changed. He used to have blue eyes back in Rome. A few days ago, he had seen his reflection by the river, and his eyes were darkest than any eyes he had seen. His hair, too, had changed from brown to black. The swift recovery of his wounds left him with no doubts that The White Being had blessed him. But why had he been blessed? He sighed and dropped on his back to watch the stars above him. He had now the opportunity of having a new life. No one had ever heard of Rome in this land, that much he was able to gather. His regained youth was somewhat bittersweet. It was true that he would live longer now, but no one would take a kid seriously. He would have to find a way to survive in this land until he reached an age where his many talents would be appreciated. He also disliked that, with his youth, he had lost his height. It was very disadvantageous for fighting, and he was not used to the new reach of his arm, which had caused him to be almost murdered by some common rabble.

The last few days, he had been taking night walks to think about what he should do. He rested his hand on his spatha, which calmed him down. At least the farmer had returned him his sword, and the farmer's wife had sewed his clothes, which he greatly appreciated. Maybe he should stay with the farmer for some time. He needed time to learn the language and gather information about the land. After all, he looked like a child and was sure that he should not talk about the miracle performed by The White Being to anyone. It would bring nothing but trouble.

Lucius sighed again. According to his mother, he was blessed by Sol, and she had been proven right by his premonitions and visions of the past. Now at the end of his life, he was blessed by yet another god. It seemed like he was favoured by the gods, which was a terrible burden. He hoped he had pleased Sol with his actions in Rome, but now it seemed like he would not only have to please Sol but The White Being as well.

He stood up, still troubled by his thoughts and was preparing to go back to the farmer's house when he noticed a little foot of a little bothersome person who was hiding behind a tree. Yet again, Lucius sighed. It seemed like the troublesome son of the farmer had followed him on his nightly walk. "Ben?" He asked, knowing full well the answer to his question. The boy came out of the tree where he was pitifully hiding.

"Lucius." The boy was looking down, fidgeting with his hands, but his shame didn't last long. The kid looked at him and started talking very fast in his barbaric language, probably trying to explain himself. Lucius, of course, did not understand a single word of what he was hearing, so he raised his hand with his palm open to get the boy to stop which, gratefully worked. Listening to the boy talk often remembered him of the bickering of the senators. Always complaining and panicking about one thing or the other.

Lucius quietly pointed in the direction of the boy's house, and without looking at him started walking towards it. The boy quickly followed, and obviously couldn't contain himself for long because he started talking again. It took some time to arrive at the house, and when they did, Lucius was not so sure about wanting to learn the language anymore.

Before going to bed, the boy pointed to Lucius spatha and made fighting gestures while asking something in his language. It had been clear for Lucius since he had recovered that the boy wanted to learn how to fight or at least wanted to spar with him. Usually, he denied the boy, pretending he didn't understand what he was saying. But now that he might be staying in this place for longer, the least he could do for his benefactor would be to teach his son one or two things about sword-fighting. He said one of the few words he had learned on his short stay on the farm. "Yes."

The boy jumped towards Lucius and hugged him tightly. As tightly as a boy his age was capable of anyway. Which made Lucius immediately regret his decision. He pulled the boy away from himself, and after that, the boy said a few more words, left Lucius alone and went to bed, almost jumping from the excitement. Lucius went to bed and thought of Rome, his wife and his daughter, who he had left behind and were now so far away, before finally falling asleep.