That afternoon was the surrender of the Germanic people. At least those who had survived the battle. Constantine stood with his father, slightly behind him, with his brother in his arms.

Francis fuzzed and attempted to get out of his blanket, but Constantine tucked his tiny legs right back in. A legionary smiled at him as he did so, and Constantine hugged his brother tighter.

Germania stepped forward, proud, but slightly bend. He was looking straight at Constantine with an unreadable look. He must have found out by Constantine’s father, who was responsible for his defeat.

The tall blonde threw his sword in the feet of Rome, and his shield followed soon after. Then, he knelt. Constantine’s eyes were wide as saucers. Was that it? The last war with Germania?

“Do you, Germania, swear to never raise your sword against Rome?” Asked Julius Caesar softly. Why was this complete surrender necessary? Constantine didn’t know. Did Germania attack them yesterday with everything he had?

“I swear,” Germania’s voice was clear, and some legionaries stood straighter. Prouder. They have finally defeated Germania, and this moment was better than a thousand victories for them.

“Do you swear to never rise your sword against his sons?” Germania send Constantine a look, and then his eyes stopped at the bundle in the boy’s arms. Francis was his nephew, his sister’s Gaul’s son.

“I promise to never harass the sons of Rome,” Constantine breathes a sight of relief and his father stepped forward.

“Do you promise me your friendship?” Rome spoke as Julius Caesar frowned. This has not been planned.

Germania nodded, but didn’t speak the words. Constantine recognized the look on his father’s face from the many times he had looked at Constantine’s mother that way. Germania would become a part of the family, it seems. The boy wondered why his father went for the relatives of his spouses.

“Then rise and never kneel again. We will discuss your new status as a federate later,” said Rome and, when Germania stood up, he went to envelop him in a one-armed hug. One that Germania returned.

“Come, ‘Mania! Let me introduce you to some of my kiddies!” Now, Rome sounded chipper, and he was tugging a reluctant Germania to Constantine. Two young boys, one an albino and the other a blonde toddler, moved to the front of the barbarian delegation and looked at Constantine with interest.

“Gilbert, Ludwig, come and say hello,” motioned Germania to the two. Constantine saw that the albino was about his age and had a bird on his head. He picked up his brother and ran to Constantine and hugged him and Franconia, both before Constantine could speak.

“I am Gilbert and I am awesome! Let us be friends!” Spoke the albino in broken Latin.

“My name is Constantine and this is Francis,” spoke in Gilbert’s hair, Constantine. The albino patted Constantine’s back a couple of times and then stepped back. He was grinning from ear to ear. Germania’s eyes had softened at the display.

“Children are something else, aren’t they?” Spoke Rome as he nudged his new federate.

“They are. Why did you let your son go in the battle so young?” Asked him Germania with a disapproving frown.

“He went behind my back. Granted, I have been fighting since I was younger than him, but still. Anyway, I will be leaving the pacification of Franconia’s land to him and Caesar. Anyway, I have a feast prepared. With a lot of meat and wine. And after…” Rome smiled suggestively and then Germania said something in his language, and Constantine decided he didn’t need to know what the two adults would be doing after they ate. Although, he had an inking of what it could be.

“What is there to be done around camp?” Gilbert was as excited as can be, and he was looking at everything with interest.

“Well, there is reading,” Gilbert snorted at that and looked at Francis.

“Hey, little cousin. How have you been? Do you want a story? I can tell you about Odin again. Those always put you to sleep,” Ludwig went on his tip-toes and Constantine lowered Francis so that Ludwig could see him.

Ludwig spoke in German, and Francis opened his eyes to fuss.

“Ludwig says that he wants to feed Francis. He doesn’t speak Latin. You don’t mind, do you, Tine?” Constantine blinked at Gilbert shortening his name so fast. But he guessed that it was in the albino’s nature to be so familiar.

“He can hold him, if he wants. But tell him to be careful with the head,” Constantine waited until Gilbert translated and then Ludwig raised his arms excitedly. Constantine positioned Francis in them and watched as Ludwig kissed the baby.

“Ok, Tine. Time to show us where you live. Surely, you have gambling games. Father always told us how you Romans liked to gamble,” Constantine did have a die and a cup in his room, but no one had wanted to play with him because he didn’t have money. When the year was done, he would receive an allowance, but, for now, he needed to live with the consequences of his drunken bath visit.

“We can just throw dice. I have nothing else,” said Constantine, and then he began leading the two brothers, with Francis still in Ludwig’s hands, to his tent. People called him Berserker as he passed, and Gilbert looked at Constantine with a bit more respect after each greeting.

“So, Tine, I hear you won the battle,” spoke Gilbert as they walked.

“I killed the leader before he could kill me, but Publius Crassus’s maneuver saved the day,” there was no point in telling Gilbert he had pulled rang. And had ordered an adult to commit to a strategy they hadn’t thought of.

“It must be nice, being let in battle. Father didn’t let me and left me on the other side of the Rhine to guard Ludwig and the children of the tribe,” the pout that Gilbert was showing on his face sipped in his voice.

“That is because you are awesome like that,” Constantine turned around to see Gilbert grinning from ear to ear. Something told the brown-haired boy that he had just made a friend.