Denarius: Antonius and Octavius

Chapter Eleven: Philippi

Two years have passed since Octavius and Antonius decided to work together. It had also taken that long to rally their troops together. Their men are as angry about Caesar's death as they are.

Both men ride side by side on horseback while their men trail behind them, some on horses, most of them on foot. The deeper they get into Gaul and closer to Macedonia, the denser the forest feels.
Gaius has worn his armor before, mainly training in Apollonia, but it feels odd genuinely wearing it to lead troops.

They've been riding for the better part of a week now and Gaius swears he can feel his inner thighs blistering. He knows wearing pants, or any sort of protection for his legs is considered barbaric, but this is just painful. He suppresses a groan of discomfort and forces his focus on the muddy trail ahead. He debates wrapping the long red cape on his armor around his thighs, no matter how ridiculous it looked.

He hears Marcus laughs softly beside him and has to fight the urge to glance over.
"Something wrong, Commander?" he asks.
"You look out of your element, Gaius. Not used to riding on a horse for long?" the older Roman teases. Octavius suppresses a scoff. Even after two years of being on amicable terms, Marcus always knows a way to get under Gaius' skin.

"Forgive me for looking uncomfortable, Commander," he says in the flattest tone he can muster. "It seems I am more accustomed to silks than leather."
Marcus laughs at that. Even Antonius knows about the horrid rumor around Rome that Octavius, after arriving in Hispania to meet up with Caesar, had supposedly slept with Aulus Hirtius for three hundred thousand sesterces. Even if that was true, Gaius would have been seventeen years old when this occurred.

Octavius has tried everything in his power to dismiss the rumor, but it doesn't help that in the two years since this spread, he hasn't changed physically at all. Now twenty-one, he still doesn't have facial hair. It's gotten to the point Octavius just brushes it off, sometimes even mockingly playing along, saying he prefers silks to leather like a common catamite.
This always sends Marcus laughing, to the point Gaius cracks and laughs too.
****
As the sky darkens, the men set up camp in a clearing in the woods. The scent of woodsmoke and thick cut bacon cooking makes Gaius hungry. The various fires lit up along the tents and cooking pits is a welcome sight driving away the darkness between the trees.

The sound of hardtack being ground down into flour for bread has become a normal sound. A dinner of crispy bacon, somewhat hard bread, and dense cheese is more than enough to soothe Gaius' nerves, at least for tonight. After eating, he walks around the inside of the camp, keeping close to the fires.

Laughter and the men talking echoes into the night. He walks to his tent and is surprised when Marcus is already inside, looking over one of the maps of Macedonia while sipping wine.
"I'm surprised you're not eating with the other men," Octavius notes. "Why are you in my tent?"
"Am I not allowed?" Marcus teases back, setting his cup down. "I've eaten earlier. Agrippa told me you had a more updated map in your tent. I mainly wanted to check."

"As you say, Commander," he keeps his voice low, looking down at his handwriting scrawled on the map, guessing where Brutus and Cassius are exactly hiding.
"And you think they're hiding in the swamps of Macedonia, of all places?" Marcus asks.

"The terrain is tougher to traverse," Octavius murmurs, head tilted. "Having the battle there would be difficult. A lot of mud, no even ground to launch an assault. If I was in their position, I would want my camp protected by whatever nature has to offer."
Marcus nods slowly. Despite their bantering and teasing, Antonius does listen when he knows it's important.

"Smart," Marcus hums, stepping away from the table. "You know the plan when we get to Philippi, you command your men, I'll command mine. If the enemy makes it into your camp, do not hesitate to make it out alive in any way you can."
Gaius nods.
"Good. Get some sleep. We march at dawn," Antonius says, patting Gaius' shoulder and exiting his tent.

Octavius sighs, walking over and getting into bed still in his uniform. He had guessed that during the last two days that sickness had weakened his limbs and clouded his mind. But now he really feels it setting in. His limbs feel heavy and he trembles, but not from the cold.

He curses under his breath, curling into himself, eyes cloudy. Lying on his side, he listens to the sounds of the men talking, the sounds getting more distorted as he slips into an uneasy sleep. He hasn't had the dreams of Antonius as Mars since he slept next to the older man.