Constantine threw the die and it landed on five. He groaned. Where was his luck when he needed it?

“Ok, ask your next question,” so far, Gilbert had more luck than him. But, hopefully, this would change as Constantine was getting hopeful.

“Tell me more about the ladies in your life. Are they pretty?” Constantine mulled over that. He had told Gilbert of the three girls he had befriended in Rome, and the boy was eager to learn more about them.

“They are mortals,” Gilbert snorted.

“Not what I asked,” Constantine grinned and continued.

“There is Scribonia Lebo. She is blonde and has green eyes. But you won’t have much luck with her. She spends her days making doe eyes at Octavian,” Gilbert gave a defeated sigh and mentioned for him to keep going.

“There is Octavia the Younger. She has brown, almost sandy, hair and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. People say she will grow in a beauty. But she is already betrothed,” Constantine had gotten the letter from Octavia a month ago. It seems Atia Balba had gotten tired of waiting on Constantine.

“Ok, the last one. The one from the clouds?” Constantine remembered Livia. A classic Roman beauty.

“She has dark hair, dark eyes and olive skin. And her name is the Cloudii, not from the clouds. Anyway, I think I’ll marry her when we grow up. My first wife,” and, if she became a vampire, his only.

“No fun! You hogged the only available beauty!” Constantine snorted and then looked at Ludwig and Francis, who were off to the side, napping.

“Not so loud, Gil. You will wake them,” Gilbert looked remorseful at that, and then he threw the die. Three. He had luck again.

“Ok, tell me more about your father. I need to know more because…” Gilbert spotted, unsure of how to proceed.

“Because he could become your stepfather soon?” Suggested Constantine with a grin. “Should I start calling you brother, Gil?”

“That would be great! I’ve always wanted a bigger family. How many siblings do you have?” Constantine was glad at the easy acceptance from the albino.

“Well, there is Francis, but you know about him. Then there is Arthur, son of Britannia, on his island. Father will be going to him next. Furthermore, there is Antonio in Hispania and Herakles in the Balkans. He is the oldest, despite not growing up much over the years,” Gilbert nodded.

“Sounds bad not to grow up. Doesn’t he have territory?” Constantine felt the guild grip him.

“No, father is disinheriting him,” Gilbert’s eyes widened.

“That sounds drastic, doesn’t it?” Constantine couldn’t agree more. But, Rome had made his choice and Constantine was not about to argue on the behalf of someone who wanted him out of the picture.

Constantine took the die and placed it in the cup. This time, he was certain that… Seven. Darn.

“Ask away,” prompted Constantine, defeated.

“There is a way to get lower ones, you know. It is all in the wrist. Let me show you,” and Gilbert took the die and the cup and began to move his wrist slowly, so Constantine could emulate him. He threw and it was a two. He handed the cup and die back, and Constantine gave it a try. A five. Better than before.

“Do you often gamble?” Constantine couldn’t imagine stern Germania allowing something like that for his children.

“When father isn’t around,” said Gilbert with a shrug. Then he smiled. “But that is our little secret, brother.”

Constantine smiled back, he liked the sound of that.

“Will you stay for a while?” Constantine asked, and Gilbert tilted his head.

“Father is moving his tropes to guard the Roman borders, and he is going to leave me in the homeland again. With Ludwig. So, I don’t think so, no,” Constantine was disappointed to hear that.

The legionaries didn’t pay him much attention. Sure, now they greeted him as he passed. But before they used to ignore him and just relay messages to him. His only company for months had been Francis.

While the baby was good company. He didn’t fuss too much and rarely cried apart from the times when he needed a nappy change or food, Constantine had missed someone his age to talk to.

“I’ll speak to father and ask him if you and Ludwig can’t stay with me. That is, if you’d like that,” Gilbert grinned from ear to ear and nodded energetically.

“That would be more interesting than standing with the women and children all day long. I might even learn some Roman battle tactics,” Constantine was certain that Gilbert would be made to attend his lessons, if he stayed. And that Ludwig would have Latin lessons.

“Anyway…” Ludwig stirred to the side and said something in German, and Gilbert nodded.

“Ludwig is hungry. Do you think we can have some food delivered?” Constantine stood up and went outside. There was a slave waiting for an order. A Greek one, this time. There was never the same slave in front of his tent. Constantine thought that it was deliberate, so he wouldn’t get attached.

“Dominos,” greeted him the slave and Constantine cleared his throat.

“Bring food to the tent and warm milk for Francis. Enough food for three. Olives, garum, bread and meat. If there are apples, bring some too,” the slave bowed and left and Constantine went back inside the tent.

“Ok, do you want more games before the food arrives?” Gilbert shook his head. He was distracted as he had gotten to Constantine’s desk and was looking through his scrolls.

“You read a lot,” commented the albino.

“I like reading,” retorted Constantine. Most of what was on the desk were poems. He had even written one for Livia.

“That is good. I can read only enough Latin to write my name. Can you teach me?” Ludwig too went next to them and took a parchment. The boy stared at the words in wonder.

“Sure, but we have to start with easier things. I can write you a fairy tale, and then we can begin,” Gilbert nodded.

“I can teach you German too, in return. Seeing as we are to be brothers, it would be nice for us to know each other’s languages fully,” Constantine nodded and took an empty parchment to begin writing. Gilbert did the same. Ludwig took one too, but he seemed to be drawing circles.