Opiter moved his feet in the water, sitting on the shore, gazing at his vague reflection.
'What am I supposed to do...?,' he thought.
A week ago, he had the honor of being appointed as Catega harbormaster.
He had to make the difficult decision to leave the domus of his family, the Moxoto, located in his homeland, Afriki, to move to Oriens.
Catega Port, Oriens
Second week of the first month of 576
At night
Today, just a few hours ago, the news of Philipart's lifting fell like a stone on him.
He felt overwhelmed.
His head was heavy and his gait was staggering.
Drinking or smoking was not an option to let off steam, it was too low.
So, with the glow of the shining moon hitting his face, he made his way to the sands near the pier, sitting down on the shore to be caressed by the waves of the sea.
"What do I do?! What do I do?!"
With both hands he held his head, clenching his jaw.
The thought of not seeing his family again pained him, however, there was something that worried him even more.
"What if I am called to serve as a nauta...?!"
Always, when it came to selecting a man for an important position, it was required that he had military experience.
Either by having graduated from the Imperial Academy, or, being a veteran of some conflict, the latter being the most common because of tribal wars.
"Iter?"
He jumped at the sound of that voice.
After taking a deep breath to calm down, he got up from the ground and turned to the person who was speaking to him.
"Cyri? What are you doing here?"
She was watching him, with her heavenly eyes, sweetly, a good complement to her whitish hair and her clothes of the same color, which showed her swollen abdomen.
Opiter disliked Cyra leaving the house for her walks. He feared that, because of her pregnancy, something bad might happen to her.
In the end he relented, he was in no mood to scold her.
He sighed, and sketched a faint smile.
"Cute, remember what the doctor told you." he took steps until he was in front of her."
He put his arms around her, pulling her close to his body, feeling her warmth.
Cyra relaxed into the embrace, resting her head on Opiter's shoulder, gently rubbing her cheek against it.
"I was missing you...." With her small hands, she clung to him. "You know I don't like to be alone, why did you come here at this hour?" She raised her head a little, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
"I needed to relax my mind, what happened in Afriki left me...."
"Relax," she interrupted. "It's okay."
With one hand he began to stroke her hair.
-I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now.
-I'm just scared.
He pulled back, breaking away from her embrace and holding her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes.
She twisted her head and narrowed her eyes at that.
And Opiter, noting her confusion, clarified:
"Since I'm a veteran, they could call me up and send me in a fleet to fight Philipart... The sea is the worst, turbulent and treacherous, but that's not my fear, but, leaving you alone....."
Cyrila blinked repeatedly, keeping a soft expression on her face. And without an opinion, from among her robes she took out a letter.
"As I was coming... I was asked to deliver this to you."
Opiter, confused by this sudden change of course, grabbed the letter.
And after looking at the mandatary...
"The Senate sent it?!" His hands trembled, he swallowed saliva, his fear would come true. Despite being a fleet captain, everything in the Empire was random. "Huh? Why i-is i-it op-open?"
"Excuse me, curiosity got the better of me." She shook her head, letting out small laughs.
He couldn't help but smile at her nervous attitude, no doubt, it was something that reassured him a little.
Therefore, he ignored the rudeness she had committed, and set about reading the contents of the letter:
Captain Ópiter Moxoto. Given to the uprising of the rebels Philipart and Crásico....
"What?!" His eyes stopped on the last name, he wished it was a mere hallucination of his, or that it was all a psychological joke on the part of the Senate rats. "Crásico also rose up...?"
"You'd better keep reading, love."
She tried to reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him in a sweet tone.
With trembling hands, he relented:
By senatorial order, you are obliged to build, as quickly as possible, a fleet capable of dealing with them; lots of ships. Enough to move more than fifty legions. The materials and labor will reach you as the week goes by, we wish you the best, may the Nintu bless you.
Signature: Members of the Senate.
Opiter was mute for a few moments.
He reread the letter again and again, fearful.
"Those are more than two hun-hundred and seventy thousand men. The-They will call on the levies of all the cities... It thi-this is too mu-much fo-for me. -His breathing quickened, his eyes grew moist.
Trembling ran through her body, cold sweat trickled down her forehead, and faint whimpers escaped from between her teeth.
Cyra, seeing that panic was beginning to overtake him, threw herself into a tight embrace; clinging to his body tightly to calm him.
"Calm down, calm down, calm down," she began to caress his back in circles delicately, "you must take your time to digest the news." She broke away, and, without sudden movements, took the letter from him.
She turned in the direction of the main path, to which she pointed with one hand.
"Dinner is ready, the bed is made up, and I'm excited; how about going home?"