Vulcan's Fury: The Dark Lands by Michael R. Hicks

thought it looked fabulous on him. He was about the same height as Paulus, thinner perhaps, and she had no doubt that the well defined chest and abdominal muscles sculpted into his gilded breast plate were a reflection of the flesh that lay beneath.
    “I…” She had to catch her breath, trying not to appear a fool. “I don’t recall having made your acquaintance before, general.”
    He smiled, his white teeth seeming to glow in the bright light from the torches and central fire of his home. “You were but five years old at the time, and I was about as old as this young man here.” He reluctantly released Valeria and put his hand on Paulus’s shoulder. “Paulus Furius, I presume?”
    “Yes, general. I’m very honored to meet you.”
    “I knew your mother and father well,” Sergius told him. “My long-belated condolences on your loss.”
    Paulus bobbed his head. “Thank you, sir.”
    Turning to Marcus and Septimus, he said, “Centurion Tullius and Optio Cominius. It’s been a long time.”  
    Both men bowed their heads. “General,” Tullius said for them both in a voice that Valeria thought was unusually cool.
    “The last time I saw these two,” Sergius said, turning to Valeria, “was just before the Battle of Agrigentum six years ago.” He grimaced. “That was a nasty bit of business, wasn’t it?”
    “Indeed, it was, sir,” Tullius said tightly. Beside him, she saw a haunted expression pass over Septimus’s face like the shadow of a cloud, and the fingers of his sword hand twitched ever so slightly.  
    “And you have Pelonius the scribe with you.” Sergius nodded to Pelonius, who stood behind the others, “Behold, the most famous freed slave in all the Empire.”
    Pelonius inclined his head. “The general is too kind.”
    Sergius laughed. “As you say, Pelonius. As you say.” He peered behind Pelonius to where Hercules was lying on the floor, tail twitching. “Ah! There he is! I was hoping that you would bring your hexatiger. Such a magnificent animal, he was still smaller than a regular tiger when I saw you all those years ago. Never have I seen the like. He’s enormous!”  
    Hercules regarded him with his great yellow eyes, then laid his ears back. A low rumble escaped his throat, a sound almost too low for human hearing. Most people, not knowing anything about him, would think it was a hexatiger purr, but Valeria knew better. He was growling.
    “But where are my manners?” Sergius said, quickly turning his attention back to the others. “Please, princess and honored guests—” He gestured toward the table on which a lavish spread of delicacies awaited. “—my table is yours.”
    The men waited for Valeria to take her seat, followed by the general, who was joined by the senior officers of his legion.  
    “My apologies for not being able to meet with you upon your arrival, princess, and also for our unusual dining arrangements,” Sergius said as a slave offered Valeria, who sat at his right hand, a portion of perfectly seasoned roast chicken, “but I have, as you were informed, been preparing the legion for march at sunrise tomorrow. And this,” he waved his hand as if to take in the room in which they dined, “is something of a final staff meeting.”
    “You need not apologize, general,” Valeria said graciously. “But please do tell what this is all about. With all due respect to your officers and men, no one has offered us any further word of what has happened than did Centurion Cantius when we reached the city gate.”
    “As per my orders, princess. I wanted you to receive nothing but the latest information from my own lips.” He paused as he took a sip of wine. “Six days ago a citizen of Camaracum, which happens to be the third largest village in the province, rode into the city. He looked as if he had been on the losing end of a fight with your Hercules. His tunic was in tatters and spattered with blood, and he bore a dozen or more wounds, terrible bites and