Princes 15 - Scipio's Spy
Part 2
A great oak door opened, and a heavy-set man in a dark blue coat with gold buttons and clean white breeches walked out. The sword hanging from his left hip indicated he was an officer, the red sash around his waist—not to mention his presence in the general’s chambers—meant he was a high-ranking one. Scipio quickly spied the two silver epaulets on the man’s shoulders and then knew the man held the rank of Major. He had short brown hair and a long, drooping mustache, and the way he eyed Scipio reminded the rifleman of how a cat sized up a mouse in the dark, dirty alleyways back home.
“Lieutenant Scipio?” the man said, and Scipio was on his feet at full attention in an instant.
“Sir!” he said, staring at a spot on the wall just above the Major’s head.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” the Major said.
The right side of man’s mouth twitched upward for a moment, indicating he found Scipio’s adherence to rigid army formality—which only served to advertise his anxiety—mildly amusing.
Bastard, Scipio thought as he relaxed his stance as much as his body let him.
“Follow me,” the Major said.
A good soldier, Scipio did as he was told. He followed the Major into a large chamber, still decorated in simple Mongolian style and native woods, but now sporting some Roman additions, such as several large flags, all bearing a gold oak crown on a field of purple, the standard of Rome. At the far end of the room, two golden eagles atop oak staffs stood on either side of a large desk; behind the desk, on the wall, was a portrait of a man wearing the purple-striped toga of a senator, a patch over one eye, and, more significantly, a grass crown upon his head. At the desk sat a man with auburn hair speckled with grey that formed short, tight curls upon his head. He was dressed in a blue coat with gold epaulets, and was studying several papers in front of him.
Scipio followed the Major to the front of the desk, where the officer cleared his throat to get the General’s attention. The man at the desk looked up, then gently laid the sheet of paper he’d been studying upon his desk and slowly rose to his feet.
“General Gaius Rutullus Lepidus,” the Major said, “may I present Lieutenant Marcus Scipio.”
“Sir!” Scipio said, assuming a stance of full attention yet again.
“At ease, at ease,” the General said with a wave of his hand. He strode casually from behind his desk until he was standing in front of it and staring hard at Scipio, who did his best to stand steady before that intense, unwavering gaze.
“Tell me what she said,” the General ordered without preamble. “Verbatim, Lieutenant. Every word, exactly.”
Scipio repeated his message, fully aware of the General’s intense gaze that seemed capable of seeing clear through into the depths of his soul. Though the message meant nothing to him, he was aware that it was code and could have deep meaning for these two men, and therefore for the war. Scipio also assumed that the lovely young Mongolian woman who called herself Larentia had very likely risked her life to deliver the message to him.
When he finished, the General turned to Major Scaurus. The two senior officers shared a long, silent look that nevertheless seemed to convey a great deal of unspoken information. Then the General turned from Scipio and walked back behind his desk, his face pensive.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Scaurus said brightly, with a feigned friendliness that made Scipio all too aware that he was about to be dismissed. “That will be…”
“There’s more, sir,” Scipio said.
“More?” Scaurus said, his expression suddenly suspicious. “You did give us the
entire message, didn’t you, Lieutenant?” he asked, his tone implying that there would be trouble for Scipio if he was holding out on them for some reason.
“Yes sir, every word,” Scipio replied. “But after she gave me the message, the woman was captured, sir. By a bunch of Mongos… sorry, Mongolians. They were… treating her quite rough, sir.”
A long, heavy silence hung in the room. Scipio watched as the Major and General shared yet another silent but significant communicative glance.
“Unfortunate,” the General said with a sigh, his lips pressed together grimly. “She’s been very useful to us.”
“Indeed she has, sir.” Scaurus said.
Every sensible instinct he possessed told Scipio to keep his mouth shut. He knew that the best thing he could do would be to deliver a smart salute and then beat a hasty retreat. But some other part of him wouldn’t let it go. He was all too familiar with that part of himself; it was the very reason he was in uniform fighting in Mongolia rather than relaxing in a tavern on the other side of the world. He could no more deny it than he could stop breathing.
“Sirs,” he said, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as the two senior officers suddenly focused their attention on him. They both looked somewhat appalled that he even had the temerity to speak up, but Scipio ploughed ahead. “Surely she must still be in the city somewhere. Some sort of… rescue operation can’t be out of the question, can it?”
The Major and the General were silent for a moment. Then Major Scaurus began to chuckle, a low, mocking laugh that made the blood rise to Scipio’s cheeks.
“Rescue?” Scaurus said. “Oh, you are a gallant one, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”
“She’s obviously been acting as a Roman agent, sir,” Scipio continued, though the sensible part of his brain was silently screaming at him to stop. “Surely we owe her…”
“That is quite enough, Lieutenant,” the General said testily. “I don’t need to be lectured about
quid pro quo with our agents by my
junior officers.”
Scipio’s teeth gnashed together and he stared long and hard at his general, long enough to be considered insubordinate. Just as Lepidus’ brows rose, Scipio lifted his gaze to a spot on the wall above the General’s head and brought himself to attention.
“Sir!” he said, checking the anger he felt.
Lepidus sighed heavily and rose from behind his desk. “In war,” he said to Scipio in a tone that was surprisingly gentle, “sacrifices must be made. If you try to keep everyone from getting killed, you wind up getting them
all killed. Perhaps if you rise higher in the ranks you’ll come to understand that, Lieutenant.”
“Sir,” Scipio said, his anger at the General’s seeming callousness dissipating. Even so, the abandonment of the woman continued to bother him.
Lepidus turned and marched back to his desk, nodding at Scaurus as he did so.
The Major simply turned to Scipio and said, “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
). So I should be able to get vanilla back up and running for more screenshots in a little while.
. You don't have to laugh at it though, it's not the economy's fault it's going downhill
.
So, I think the Greeks have been dealt with. I'm just curious as to how Caesar is going to deal with Elizabeth. 
