Forests near Genava — Two days after the second embassy
The XIII was no longer digging.Now it patrolled.
Orders had shifted after the latest refusal. The Roman stance was no longer purely defensive, but one of active watchfulness.Caesar did not want to be surprised.And the Helvetii didn't want to be seen as the aggressors.
A tense balance that could only last a few more hours.
Sextus and his group were part of an advanced patrol. There were eight of them, led by a veteran from Hispania named Tullius, hardened in the wars of Hispania, where he had fought for years against rebel tribes in mountains tougher than iron.
The forest was thick, damp, full of sounds that didn't come from the wind.Their steps were slow, measured.They weren't seeking a fight.Only eyes.
"What if they see us first?" Faustus muttered.
"Then there won't be a fight," Tullius replied."Not yet. They'll measure us. Same as we're measuring them."
And then, it happened.
At the top of a small hill, three figures appeared among the oaks.They weren't dressed like the Romans. They wore short tunics, long wooden shields, thin spears.They weren't hiding…but neither did they advance.
One raised an arm.Another crouched down.The third watched… calmly, as if calculating an invisible line.
Sextus felt the weight of the pilum in his hand.There was no fear. Just a new tension—dense, sharp.
"Do we throw?" Atticus whispered.
Tullius shook his head.
"No. We watch. And let them watch.This isn't our fight."
The Helvetii stayed there another minute.
Then, without signals, they turned and disappeared into the forest.
There were no words.No clash.
But in Sextus's eyes, as they returned to camp, there was no longer any doubt.
"War wasn't coming.War was already here."