Marcellus rode on horseback. He clutched the hilt of his sword, expecting conflict at any given moment. Why was he so on edge? Because he was about to meet with the man who had long since been a thorn in the Empire's side. A man he had fought a battle with in the past, a man who he could consider a true rival.
With Stilicho gone, Marcellus no longer felt confident in his ability to beat Alaric. It was a good fifty-fifty chance that he would come out on top should the two men and their armies engage in mortal combat. At the moment, he was travelling to the Italian Border to meet with the Gothic King, in a rather poor attempt to lure him to the side of Rome.
