'Long About Midnight

By nightfall the virtuous Saint was gone from the Fort, most likely well on his way back to the land of the Profligates to heal them all. Vulpes was loath to admit he missed the man even to himself, so instead he focused on smiling as he, Lucius, and a select few others lingered in the presence of the newly awakened Caesar. The man (for he was now certain his master was mortal) seemed tired but oddly at ease after years of building tension from the wound.



When it came time for evening meals, the man asked he stay at his bedside while the others went, so he did. As soon as the tent flap closed behind him, he saw a slight smile cross the face normally warped in serious concentration or schadenfreude. Well before the old man began to speak, he knew- KNEW that somehow he had become aware of what had transpired between the Chief of his Frumentarii and the holy Courier.



Fear was not something he was accustomed to feeling, but he did his best not to show it as his mentor remarked, "It would seem the Wasteland Messiah has some vested interest in the Legion despite his previous denial."



"Yes," he agreed, working to keep his tone even and cool. Years of practice felt flimsy under the scrutiny that seemed to burn through the smile that was directed at him. "It would seem so."



"And I have you to thank," Caesar added, sounding amused.



"Do you?" he managed, feeling the urge to fiddle with something to keep his hands occupied. Was he going to be praised as he had been for defying his Centurion or would his previous sentence of execution finally catch up with him?



"Of course," he chuckled. "I always knew your silver tongue could win over any man. I just had no idea how versatile you could be."



Vulpes was blushing like some Profligate girl caught by her overprotective father in a hayloft with a boy from town. He shut his eyes in order to tune out the fact he had been caught... watched by one of the few men he respected while involved with a man that could be a potential enemy to the Legion. He forced himself to calm because it had been nothing more than the beginnings of a negotiation... hadn't it?



Then the thought struck him... What might have happened had Caesar not interrupted them when he did by "beginning" to regain consciousness?



"I have been well trained in a variety of skills by my time in the Legion and abroad," he managed, finally looking over at his teacher.



"Indeed," came the mildly humorous retort. "But there's always one thing you forget, Vulpes Inculta."



"And what is that?" he muttered, feeling a little over-criticized given his progress on the Messiah of the Wasteland.



"Always leave your target wanting more," he replied, always the wizened mentor.