Chasing Blue- The Final Saga (Book 4)

Chapter 33: Two-Face

Julia's eyes darted to Julian. His arms still remained folded against the chest. It was hard not to read the frustration from his furrowed brows as he exhaled a hot breath. Julia bit her lip as her eyes danced back and forth between us. The only thing to break the silence was the approaching footsteps.

"Julian. Troy. Julia," a voice called from behind. We turned around to find their father.

Julia plastered an uneasy smile. "I better get going," she said, as she jolted from the couch. "I should probably correct matters with mother," she sighed, leaving the room.

"Julian. Do you not have somewhere to be right now?" his father asked in a low firm voice. Even in his softest voice, it held authority.

"Yes father, I am on my way to the rhetoric school." He glanced at me. "I have unfinished business with Troy."

"Good to see you men are on speaking terms now. Can this business wait?" he asked.

Julian faltered before responding, "Yes, father," he said quietly before leaving the house. Now it was just me and my uncle in the atrium.

"You and my son have had better days. I noticed you have missed a few days at the rhetoric school? Is Julian being there a problem for you?" he questioned. I shook my head.

"Good! Well I do not want to stall and make you late. One of the male slaves is coming now to carry your wax tablets and writing instruments for you."

"Thanks for everything," I said softly. I rose from the couch and walked towards the vestibule.

"Troy."

I spun around to face my uncle.

A faint smile emerged. "Make me proud."

"You are born with a blank slate. Hopefully when you die your slate will be covered with writing. To this slate belongs a metalworker working with the intense heat of the oven to create implements for war and peace. To another fellow, a mason from his youth up learned to be a worker of his hands. Still others became warriors; fighting ruthless barbarians and protecting the frontier of the Great Empire. Others seek glory in the arena as they bask in the glory of men. Then there are some who choose a life behind marble. They love the art of debate as you men do. Outside these walls some of you will become great orators and lawyers. Maybe one day you will make the laws. You will decide the battles. You will have others look to you as a beacon. What will your slate say? What will they remember you for? Or will they even remember you in five years?

Twenty.

A Hundred."

Class was dismissed for the afternoon break, but my hand still held the stylus, penning the orator's last words. I watched the other ten young men quickly file out the oval shaped room in the bathhouse. I often thought about what I would do next after I left the room but all I kept thinking about was his last words before I would leave the Rhetoric school behind. The orator was talking to Julian in hushed tones I could not make out. He and I were the last ones to leave. Julian was rather sullen as he walked out the room. I followed his movement down the colonnaded hallway which separated the lecture room from the courtyard. He turned to catch me watching him on the other side of the colonnade.

He broke the silence first. "I don't want there to be bad blood between us. I am tired of playing this game of ignoring each other," he muttered. I sighed before pursing my lips.

"I do not want to be the reason you quit chariot racing... and now you are leaving our home," he continued. "I wanted to win so badly but I'm afraid I only drove you away. Look, I was mad at you but I cannot go on like this knowing you hate me. I'm sorry for calling you a coward," he said softly. It was the first apology coming from his lips since our burst of anger. But it was too late.