Rainer didn't expect to find someone as odd as him so early. He was secretly delighted, so he cleared his throat and made conversation.
"And...where is this grandmother of yours?"
The youth's eyes momentarily brightened at Rainer's apparent interest in his affairs and he answered.
"She's dead."
"Hm!"
Rainer grunted, nodding faintly in feigned understanding.
Seeing Rainer's struggling expression, the youth tried to elaborate.
"But she's always with me."
He pressed with sincerity in his eyes, though his general expression revealed little else.
"She was a grand spiritualist, and I was to be her replacement. But—there came the war... and..."
The youth trailed off, seemingly self-conscious as his gaze shifted down.
If someone could sketch Rainer's expression at that moment they would create a meme with the wordless caption; 'What is going on right now?'.
"Right..."
He drawled, and took a deep breath before glancing away into the field.
"Well, you can keep your life story to yourself. Don't need that now."
He suddenly chuckled darkly to himself, finding something funny.
"As for this hero thing—if you mean me then well–let me just tell you right now that I'm far from that."
The youth's head tilted slightly in doubt.
"What if I don't believe you?"
Rainer stiffened, and his head grinded to look at him, a sharp smile forming on his face.
"And what if I told you; I only bothered helping you to garner goodwill amongst the soldiers?"
The youth paused and seemed to ponder this for a moment, but then his eyes shifted to Rainer's spear, and then the shield strapped to his back.
He carefully studied the symbols embossed into them and spoke.
"Do you believe in symbolism?"
He suddenly asked, and Rainer shrugged, nodding.
"Yeah, I guess."
"As all should."
The youth sagely remarked, nodding.
"You wield weapons, but they hail from a Heroon, an altar to our heroes of old."
At this, Rainer let out a soft, drawn-out sigh, running a hand through his hair.
'Ah, yes. I can read them too. The Thracian horseman story.'
He groaned, glancing at the shield behind him. At the archaic symbols embossed therein...and the story they weave.
In the rugged hills and deep forests of ancient Thrace, a mysterious figure rides eternally through bronze and legend—the Thracian Horseman. It is the story of a lone mounted warrior immortalized in alloy, he hunts a wild beast and soon stops to offer sacrifice beneath a sacred tree.
More than a mere hunter, this horseman was a powerful symbol of heroism, protection, and the journey to the afterlife.
To the Thracians, a people known for their fierce independence and warrior culture, he embodied the ideal hero—strong, noble, and intimately tied to the natural and spiritual worlds.
As Roman influence spread, the Thracian Horseman was not forgotten. Instead, he was absorbed into local religious traditions, venerated as a divine protector and a healing deity.
Though time has faded his name, the Thracian Horseman endures as a silent sentinel on horseback, riding between myth and memory.
Now, Rainer beared arms, embossed with song and prayers to him.
Rainer opened his mouth, seeming about ready to launch on a long philosophical debate when—
*Guuurrrrll!*
Rainer's stomach roared, causing him to grasp his belly.
He let out a sigh and glanced into the camp.
"Look, you're kinda weird but you seem like a swell guy. So let's be friends. What's your name?"
Rainer proposed, turning back to the youth.
A strange light flashed past the youth's eyes and for the briefest of moments, Rainer thought he caught the slightest of smiles.
The youth paused, and then nodded to himself as if coming to a decision.
"I am Rufus, and you are the Hero."
"No. None of that."
Rainer waved a hand in dismissal.
"The name's Rainer. Just Rainer is fine."
"Rainer..."
Rufus echoed and Rainer smiled.
"Atta boy, Rufus. Gotta go now. Catch you later!"
With that, he rose to his feet and strode into the camp, leaving Rufus behind.
Rufus only looked away after he had vanished within the lake of tents.
"—Hero Rainer?"
He muttered as if tasting the words.
"Rainer, The Hero?"
He paused and nodded, seemingly in satisfaction.
"Mm! It fits nicely!"
–––
*Tu!* *Tang!* *Seink!*
Auxiliaries worked by their tents, maintaining their armor and weapons, laughing as they made idle chatter.
Under the soothing din of menial activity, Kotys sat alone before his tent, eyes vacant and expression afar off as he gaze into the ground, when suddenly—
*Flash!*
There was a blast of light, and all of a sudden, he found himself before a rough gravestone. The sun blazed mercilessly, and a metallic ringing faintly clawed at his ears.
"Kotys."
A motherly voice echoed, silencing the ringing, and when he looked around the dry wilderness, he discovered that there was only him...and the gravestone.
Frowning, he honed in on the gravestone, and there, carved upon it was a symbol he found familiar...that of a horse.
"Kotys, my dear..."
The soothing voice came again in a manner one would address a child.
"I'm sorry I couldn't buy a steed for you to play with... You always asked for one?"
Kotys' frown immediately fell away, usurped by exhaustion as hurt flooded into his eyes.
"Mother... I-I no longer need a horse."
"Ah."
Exclaimed the voice, slightly dismayed.
"Yes... You've grown. No longer the child, my child—"
"No!"
Kotys vehemently interjected.
"No..."
He repeated weakly this time.
"Then why?"
Kotys took in a sharp deep breath and stood a bit straighter.
"I am stronger on my feet. That's...why."
"My sweet boy... You've been through so much."
Kotys' breath hitched at her consoling words.
"Do not hesitate in the path you have chosen, son."
The voice went on, becoming firmer and more solemn.
"My death...was the consequence of my own path. In it I lay proud, and such is what I wish for you. I chose my heritage, and fought for Dacia—and you believed in your father, and took Rome's pay..."
Nevertheless... In the end, it matters nought what we chose... It only matters that we are content in it."
Koty's eyes shut, and his face fell in despondence.
"I...feel lost mother."
"..."
There was a brief moment of tense silence, which was followed by a wan sigh.
"Then—I fear you may be on the wrong path, son... If your father's path is not yours, then forge your own."
Kotys shuddered, tensing as he clenched his fist.
He knew this deep down, but he didn't know if he had the strength to attempt such a venture.
"Mother... Ca-can you call me names again? As you did in my infancy?"
The voice giggled softly at the cute request and consented.
"Yes. Yes, my love, my budding Cheiftain, my Eastern horsecheif, my..."
The loving words came upon Kotys like a spring breeze, easing his muscles and centering his mind.
"...strong defender, my little Kot—"
"Kotys!"
A loud voice suddenly came down upon his vision like a sledgehammer upon a fish tank, and Kotys slowly opened his eyes before menacingly gazing up at the auxiliary who now stood before him.
It was Togo, his tentmate.
"Wh-what?"
Togo flinched before his stare and apologized.
"Fo-forgive me. I had to shout since you d-didn't hear me call the first time."
Kotys let out a begrudging sigh and looked away.
"Why have you sought me out, Togo?"
He rasply queried and the auxiliary smiled.
"Promotions, Kotys! L-lord Praefect has called many to gather before his tent! I was sent to bring you specifically!"
Kotys' eyes widened.
"You mean!?"
"Yes, Kotys!"
Togo laughed gladly.
"I-I think you'll be getting higher pay than the rest of us soon!"
Kotys' eyes drifted away in disbelief, and he turned down without much change in his expression. Until...
A small, pleased smile tugged up the side of his lips.