The Legions had found a handful of folk clever or fortunate enough to have successfully hidden from the vord during the days of occupation. None of them were in what would be considered good condition though few bore any injuries. “The children are showing signs of beginning to recover,” Fidelias said. “The others... some of them have family who might be alive. If we get them to someplace warm and quiet and safe, they have a chance.”

“Someplace warm, quiet, and safe,” said the Princeps, his eyes hardening. “That can be a rare thing even in times of peace.”

“True enough.”

The Princeps stopped in his tracks. They were a short distance from the nearest sentries. “Your best guess. Could Crassus command this force in... my absence?”

“In your absence, as your lieutenant, yes,” Fidelias replied immediately. “In the event of your loss, Captain? Not for long.”

Octavian eyed him sharply. “Why?”

“Because the Canim respect Varg, and Varg respects you. The Free Aleran Legion respects you—but if you weren’t here, they would follow Varg’s lead.”

The Princeps grunted, frowning. Then he said, “Are you telling me that I should name a Canim the second-in-command of our forces?”

Fidelias opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked, thinking it over. “I believe... that Varg would have a better chance of holding the force together than Crassus, or anyone else in the First Aleran’s command structure.”

“Except, perhaps, Valiar Marcus,” Octavian mused.

Fidelias snorted. “Yes, well, that’s not an option now, is it?”

Octavian regarded him steadily and said nothing.

Fidelias tilted his head as it slowly dawned on him what Octavian meant. “Oh, Your Highness. You couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Why not?” Octavian asked. “No one but my personal guard and Demos’s crew know the truth about you. They can keep a secret. So, Marcus runs the force until it can unite with the Legions, passes along Crassus’s orders, and is watched by the Maestro—who is, I believe, still uncertain as to why you aren’t hanging on a cross being eaten by vord.”

“I’m a bit unclear on that point myself, at times.”

Octavian’s visage hardened briefly. “I will do as I see fit with your life. It is mine to spend. Remember that.”

Fidelias frowned and inclined his head slightly. “As you wish, my lord.”

“That’s right,” Octavian said, some measure of bitter humor touching the tone.

Fidelias studied the young man for a moment and realized that... the Princeps was torn over some decision. Normally he was so confident, so driven; Fidelias had never seen him like this. There was uncertainty hovering behind his words, hesitance: Octavian himself wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.

“Are you planning on leaving the force, sir?” Fidelias asked carefully.