Arrow Lake abbatia

but a tactician heard the step of a butterfly.

germanicus turned. it was meadow, and shame flushed him.

perhaps it was this that made him approach at once, sharp-stepped and stiff-backed. a soldier holding more than shield and spear but the failure of a father as well.

a wife. two sons. two daughters. gone now.

and not in death.

only from him.

"i know i cannot ask you to forgive me my cruelty. i only ask that you hear me say aloud that i was wrong to speak to you as i did."

only then did germanicus understand the brush between them, and too late did the gravity of it loop like leather through his senses and drew him taut.

the imperator wisely retreated then.