“Are you sure that is wise, sir?” the commander asked, but Gaius merely repeated his instructions as he raced down from the walls.

A moment later, Gaius joined his men before ordering the gate to be opened. He couldn’t take any chances. While that might have been Valerius outside, it did not mean that the old veteran wasn’t a hostage, sent forth so an ambush waiting outside couldn’t cease the moment and strike. Hannibal had proven his cunning, so Gaius was not about to make a mistake that would cost, not just the lives of his men, but Rome itself.

The heavy wooden gates were pulled open by a team of horses. Archers and spearmen stood high on the walls, prepared to unleash their anger on the command, while several thousand men behind Gaius, stood in perfect formation, set to repel any attempt to breach the walls. Gaius knew, however, if this did turn out to be a trick, he probably wouldn’t have time to return to the fort. He had already ordered the gates sealed until he gave further instruction. If an attack did come, they would not be opened, regardless.

“Forward!” Gaius ordered with a strong voice, hiding much of his own apprehension. He prayed to the gods that it was Valerius, even if an ambush lies in wait. At least, his old friend would be safe and alive, for the time being.

Once outside the heavy gates closed with a looming thud. He could see now that the men carrying the banner of the Sixth Legion had stopped several dozen yards from his position. No doubt if Valerius was with them, he would not want to press too close, or fear that a nervous sentry might throw a javelin prematurely.

Two dozen paces from where the small group of soldiers stood Gaius halted his men and called out, “Friend or foe?!" Immediately, he felt like a fool. Any self-respecting barbarian would say afriend. It was, in fact, the reply he got. More importantly, it was Valerius’ voice that called back.

Gaius swallowed hard, deciding against his better judgment that he should proceed. He doubted that Valerius could have been coerced into setting a trap, and if it had been any other man, he would have half the legion marched out to confront the uncertain threat. As it stood, he trusted his heart over reason. He wanted Valerius to be alive and well; nothing would up lift his spirit more than to see his old mentor again.

When Gaius finally saw Valerius clearly in the torchlight, he could hardly contain himself as he rushed out ahead of his men and embraced the legate.

“Valerius! I thought you long for this world,” Gaius commented as he pulled Valerius back, who moaned with a bit of pain as his tired body had obviously been through quite the ordeal.

“Are these all the men you’ve brought?” he then quickly asked, gazing passed Valerius at the collection of two dozen soldiers, all badly needing a shave and clean clothes.

“No. I have several hundred more survivors with me. I kept them back in case the watch commander was jumpy,” Valerius managed to reply with a smile.

“Call them forth,” Gaius eagerly said, but he quickly placed his hand onto Valerius' shoulder and steadied his words. “But be mindful. Bring them in slow, to be safe. Understood, sir?” Gaius felt odd telling Valerius what to do, but the old soldier was wise, and experienced enough to understand Gaius’ meaning without taking offense. He replied with a simple nod as he turned toward one of his men and relayed his instructions.

Back inside the fort, Gaius kept much of his men at arms and formed up. He wasn’t taking any chances, not until all of Valerius’ men had been accounted for, and disarmed. Thankfully, the old general and his remaining officers were understanding, and obliged to Gaius’ orders.

“Quartermaster! Get previsions, clean clothes, medical supplies and anything else you can find, at the double,” Gaius ordered as he, and his officers tried to keep order as Valerius and the eight hundred men he had with him were kept near the center of the fort. His staff were trying to determine who among the men needed the most care, and from what he could see, many, if not all were nearly starving — their bloodied kit, armor and clothes bloodstained, caked with week’s worth of filth, that most of the men looked to be wearing rags.

Many of the men collapsed once they reached safe ground, while others threw themselves into the arms of waiting soldiers, balling like children. More, however, joined in the celebration that was quickly beginning to take hold of the camp, while, already representatives from the Senate were making their way to the Fields of Mars to get statements and firsthand accounts about Hannibal and his forces.

Gaius did what he could, but no matter how many orders he gave, he couldn’t help the feeling that what he was doing wasn’t enough. He had the food, medical supplies and all the needs the men could ever want, but the task seemed overwhelming. Valerius, to his surprise, had refused any services, as he directed care to his sickest men. The ordered madness would continue for hours on.

Gaius was smiling, something he couldn’t remember doing for the past year as he watched his men celebrate long into the night. The whole camp was alive — spirits lifted for the first time since the war had started. Their brothers had returned home — not all of them, but enough to show the new recruits that they could survive.

Turning back from looking out the flap of his tent, Gaius grinned at Valerius as he moaned, once he dipped his head into a large clay pot filled with hot water. It had been three hours since the old veteran returned to Rome with his survivors, and this was the first time that he took any time for himself. His initial concerns had been to his men, which Gaius and his officers rushed to attend to. The sickest and gravely wounded were rushed to the city, while the rest that were fit remained at the fort. Those that could find the strength remained with the recruits outside, enjoying their return with rounds of drink and bellies full of food.

Gaius watched as Valerius pulled his tattered and blood-covered tunic off, dropping it to the floor where the rest of his clothes had been piled, all of it beyond use. He could see in the flickering candlelight dozens of new scars, large and small lined his arms, neck and torso, while nasty welts and blisters had formed where bones had been fractured, leaving behind rough and dried skin that was hard as leather.

“You should have one of the doctors take a look at you,” Gaius spoke as he took a seat at his desk.

“Blah, I’ve been through far worse, Prefect.” Valerius grinned with a funny smile as he turned back towards his ward.

Gaius smiled. “Consul Paullus saw fit to promote me, until your return, of course.”

“And I’m certain you are ecstatic over the prospect of taking orders from me once more,” Valerius chuckled as he sat down on a stool that was placed near Gaius’ cot, which he had already offered for him to use.

“The Wolves are, and always will be, yours. I’m just their keeper until your return,” Gaius replied honestly.

“You’ve done fine without me, Gaius. I’m proud of you. Although, I must say that I’m saddened to see too many new faces among our ranks.”

Gaius lowered his head, recalling those he’d grown up with — had trained with and called friends who were no longer with him. It seemed the whole world had changed in a blink of the eye that he hardly had time to reflect on what had already been lost before a new crisis began.

“Far too few have returned, after Trebia and," Gaius paused before continuing. “Valerius, what happened at Trasimene?”

Valerius did not reply, not at first, not before Gaius added to his question.