"You call that a river?"

The soldier was visibly embarrased.

"That's a creek, at most. The water can't be more than ankle deep. Why are you still on this side?"

"But sir... the gully, it's... too steep, for.. for the horses. They couldn't cross."

"We're not leaving without the cavalry. How long will it take to rebuild the bridge?"

"Four hours, maybe."

"You don't have four hours, you have one hour."

"But, that's impossible."

"Do you want to be known as the man who destroyed the Republic? Servius is on his way to Rome, and we have to stop him. I can defeat him, but I have to get there first, and if I don't, it will be your fault. You will be remembered as the man who destroyed the Republic, and also the worst engineer in history. The man who couldn't build a small bridge even when the Republic depended on it. I'm sure Servius will appreciate your incompetence, you might even get a road named after you or something. Although I'm sure it would be a poorly built and ill-maintained road. Why are you still here? Go! Build!"

The engineer ran off. Tiberius was approached by one of the senior centurions, who asked

"Is Ammianus back yet?"

"No, not yet. Tell me, how is it again that there is a civil war on, Servius is marching on Rome, and we're here, stuck in the middle of Pannonia?"

"Well, sir, I didn't want to bring this up in front of the men, but there have been strange things happening lately. I mean, every single bridge we came across had been sabotaged, and in every forest we crossed there were brigands, and the Thracian army is always one step ahead of us, we've had to march south far more than we managed to march west. It's like everyone knows where we're going to go. Do you think we might be cursed?"

Tiberius laughed. "Oh, we're not cursed. Servius is cursed, or he ought to be. It's a lot simpler than that, we have a traitor in our ranks."

"A traitor? Who is it?"

"I have some theories, and I suspect we'll find out soon enough. By the way, there is no Thracian army, those reports have been false."

"That's impossible. Tribune Ammianus has personally led most of the scouting parties."

"Indeed he has. We shall not discuss this further right now," said Tiberius as he rode forward to meet Tribune Kaeso Ammianus, who was arriving at that very moment. "Anything?"

"No," answered Ammianus, "we rode about 12 miles down the river, but there wasn't a suitable crossing. Looks like we'll get delayed again."

"Yes, again. Strange, isn't it? It once took me a week to cross the mountains of Eprius, all the way from Apollonia to attack the Macedonians at Pella, and here it's taking me three times as long to cross a shorter stretch of Pannonia, which, as you may have noticed, is rather flat and without many obstacles."

"Yes, you must be getting old," Ammianus smirked.

"Oh well, at least we won't have to deal with those Thracian horsemen on the other side for a few more hours."

"Sir?" The centurion interrupted, "those look like our Thracian scouts."

"Oh, look, they do," said Tiberius sarcastically. "I must be getting old. I completely forgot that I had sent the Thracians to scout the river before I sent the Tribune and his scouts. Funny how they seem to have found a way across, isn't it?"

The three men sat upon their horses in silence for a moment. As the centurion reached for his sword, Ammianus bolted away, exiting the camp at full gallop. The centurion moved to chase after him.

"Hold it! Hold it!" yelled Tiberius. "We don't have time for this, we have to keep moving. Get the army ready to go. We have a war to fight."