When the last man had left, Octavian turned and drew his sword in a smooth motion, stalking across the sandy ground to one of the fighting circles. Brutus watched him for weakness, reminded that he too had won silver armor in Julius’s tournament. He was fast and young, but Brutus drew his own gladius as if it were a part of his arm. He had searched for it amongst Egyptian dead, before the scavengers could bear it away. He had trained through pain to recover the skill for exactly this moment.

Brutus took position opposite Octavian and raised his sword into first position.

“I remember you threatening to have my arm rebroken,” he murmured, beginning to circle. “Would you like to try it now?”

Octavian ignored him, reversing step so quickly that it almost caught Brutus by surprise. The first blow was a test of his strength, with Octavian’s weight behind it. Brutus took it easily, with a clang of metal.

“You mustn’t tense your hip like that, boy. It restricts your movement,” Brutus said.

For a few moments, they fought in silence as Octavian tried a combination of cuts that ended with a lunge at his knee. Brutus batted the blade aside.

“Better,” he said. “Though I see Domitius has been working with you. He loves that little lunge.”

He saw that Octavian was circling too closely and darted at him. His sword was countered, but Brutus managed to hammer a punch into Octavian’s cheek before they broke apart. Octavian touched his face and held up the palm to show there was no blood.

“Are you thinking this is just to be the first cut, boy?” Brutus said. “You’re as naive as Julius. Perhaps that’s why he likes you.”

As he spoke he began a series of strikes that built in speed. Both men crashed together, and Octavian used his elbow to knock Brutus’s head back.

“You’re getting old,” Octavian said as they circled once more.

Brutus glared at him, feeling the truth of the words. He had lost the blinding speed of his youth, but he had experience enough to humble one more young dog, he was sure of it. “I wonder if Julius shared his plans with you for when he returns?” he said. Both men were sweating by then. Brutus saw Octavian’s eyes narrow and he went on, watching for an attack. “This city is to become the second capital of his empire, did he tell you that? I doubt he bothered. You were always first in line to kiss his feet. What does it matter if you kneel to a general or an emperor?”