Vince watched as the flames of Vesta burned the body of his older brother to ash. His tears rolled down his face like rivers that would never end. Much in the same way, the rest of his family under Vesta cried at the loss of their dear brother. All but Elder Tiber who remained stoic.

  The elder was just that, old. His hair had faded into wisps that streamed over the crown of his head. His beard was short and patchy, having just been shaved two weeks ago. It was white with hints of the brown which his younger self would have sported. That was before he joined the family of Vesta.

  Why does he not cry? Vince thought quietly. While most of his mind was preoccupied attempting to sear the memory of his brother’s cremation into his psyche, a small piece of it thought of the old man. Has he just grown used to seeing people die?

  As the ceremony drew to a close, Tiber stepped forward toward the heat. Though the fire raged on, all anyone could hear was his footsteps. It was not a large building they were in, though sacred. The long dead Old People had once built this place to house the same flame that burned now. It was round with tall columns worn by the years. None of them were original. But the flame was. There was a dome for a roof, a small one with no decoration. Vesta has no need for vanity.

  Vince watched as Tiber turned and faced the members of the family that came to this funeral. There were about thirty that stared at him. He wore what he wore everyday, a leather jacket with canvas trousers. Hardly a regal outfit, but it did not matter. Tiber was not respected for his age but his fortitude. Vince wore his own rendition of Tiber’s clothes, as did many others.

  “I offer my condolences to each and every one of you.” The elder started, his voice deep with a hint of raspiness. “The loss of Ben will mark each and every one of us. Let it be a reminder of the love which our patron bestows to us. The love of family which perseveres through life and never dies. Though our flesh may be burned, that devotion will not fade.”

  How can he not cry? Vince asked himself, his attention fully on Tiber. He loved Ben as a son, more so than he does me. All of the eyes of his brothers and sisters and children are looking at him while the fire burns him from behind. Why does he not weep?

  “This day has ended. The fires will always burn. Ben died well. And his ashes will burn for eternity with the flame that our patron keeps, that we are bid to keep.”

  Instinctively everyone knew the phrase that was to come next. All of the men and women next to Vince were longstanding members of the family. He had never known another god than Vesta. To him, these words were second nature.

  “Glory to the light of the hearth. May she forever be warmed and loved as we are by here.”

  Once the brief speech was finished, Vince watched as the crowd parted and Tiber marched straight out of the temple into the square. Vince knew he would return to his apartment where he conducted his business and lived. The doors were open from dawn until dusk. If you arrived at twilight, you only needed to knock.

  All of Vesta’s followers, the worshipers of the family, left bit by bit, until Vince was left alone looking at the last bits of Ben fluttering in the air. He needed a father in this moment, and a father he has in Tiber.

  When Vince left the building, he realized it was near dusk and made for Tiber’s apartment. He passed through the square, seeing the remnants of ancient buildings and other temples which did not stand the test of time, nor had the strength to fend off other gods. Stone paths from all directions fed into the road he was on, and all led to the temple of power behind him, the Temple of Mars, the Temple of War.

  Ahead was War’s Arena where fires lit inside illuminated the night sky. Cheers from the inhabitants of the city rang out from inside. Some nights there were lions and others just men. Tonight, neither interested Vince. He passed by and turned back onto a hill road which led back to the residential area of Aeterna.

  As he walked, Vince felt the stones in their uneven placement. The legends of the city said that the roads were once paved with marble and smooth. It has been a long time since this city was anything more than a seat of Mars and a stable for legions.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The number of beggars and paupers grew as he entered Tiber’s street. Many of these poor people relied on Elder Tiber’s kindness. The whole city knew who he was, and they very much knew that he was the one who whispered in the General’s ear. He kept the grain dole going, just as it had been for hundreds of years. Vince simply passed by them on the cobblestones and arrived at the elder’s door.

  With a knock he waited a moment before the door opened. Tiber was there, face solemn until he realized it was Vince at the door.

  “Oh, Vincent.” He said with some surprise. Tiber had already changed into his night robes and prepared for bed. “How might I help you?”

  “...” Vince paused trying to think of what words to say. “May I come in.”

  “Of course.” The old man gestured for Vince to enter. It was a quaint and humble abode. Two stories as if it were a shop with the living quarters above. In the lower section there were only chairs with cloth pillows for comfortable seating and shelves of scrolls and wine. And a stove with a lit but waning fire stood by a table where the elder did his writing. Vince took a chair and placed it by the fire before taking his seat.

  “I apologize, dear elder, for coming to you when your door is closed.”

  “Think nothing of it, Vincent. You knocked, and I answered. That is how I like things to be. What ails you, young one.”

  Vince remained quiet for a moment. His hand found a way to his chin as his eyes turned to the dying fire. He felt his scruff, brown and coarse just as the hair on his head.

  “You did not shed any tears for Ben.” He said, deciding to not mince words with his elder. “I saw everyone in the crowd. They all loved Ben. I know you did too, but you did not cry. I want to know why?”

  Tiber looked puzzled at Vince’s question. He huffed for a moment before pursing his lips and furrowing his brow in thought. Before he answered, his went and took his own chair and sat it before Vince and the stove. He took his seat slowly and looked at Vince.

  “I am glad that you do not think I did not love Benito. I truly did. But I will not shed tears, not even for him.”

  “Why, dear elder?” Vince asked, turning to see the soulful blue eyes of an aged man with few years left. “I know that all in our family hold you dear. Yet, you did not cry when he passed. What are they… what am I supposed to see?”

  The elder did not break their eyes from one another until he breathed out slowly. He stood and went to one of his wine shelves. He took a jar and filled two wooden cups with it. Tiber handed Vince one when he returned.

  “Do you know how I became the Elder of Vesta?” He took a sip of wine. Vince did not answer. “I became a man that people could rely upon. I let everyone else have their time in mourning. Their tears may flow freely, and mine must never fall.”

  “Do you think that is the right way?” Vince asked, still not having drank.

  “I do. When the world demands strength, you must realize its people do the same. Whether mourning or rejoicing, a strong man that leads must never lose himself to his passions.”

  “Is this why the General calls you his most trusted advisor?” Tiber chuckled after Vince’s statement. It was a true rumor that passed around Aeterna. Tiberius Colonna, man of the old blood and child of Aeterna, was considered one of the most prudent and cunning men in the city. Because of that, many leaders of families and cults feared him. But he was a man who kept the grain dole open as well as his front door. The city and her people loved him, even more so than War’s General.

  “Perhaps, though I believe my own capabilities as a planner do more for my reputation. General Numitus and I are cut from the same cloth. We… respect certain aspects of each other’s philosophy for ruling. But, yes. A steady hand best guides the ship. A man that weeps for all the world to see, that is not steady.”

  “Then what of your heart?” Vince asked, gripping the cup tightly and staring into the wine.

  “My heart? Good Vincent. I know that you wish to be like me. Leadership is what you desire, whether it be from me or from your own mind. Understand that my heart bleeds with every child’s death. But I know… that if I falter…”

  “What happens?”

  “A long time ago, when I was still a young man, I faltered. And I watched a boy I loved as a brother fall victim to his own passions. I did not lead him, not at all. He died for that. That… that was the last time I wept at the loss of family.”

  Vincent watched as Tiber grew solemn once more. He became a quiet old man with distant eyes. Any soul alive could see that he was watching something, but what was it? A scene of loss in the past? Could he feel the same fire of nobility being lit all those years ago? Vince could not tell. He finally took a sip of his wine.

  “I am sorry, dear elder.” He said softly. “I did not mean to upset you.”

  “You have done no such thing, Vincent.” Tiber replied, not turning away from his distant gaze. “If anything upsets me, it is my own doing.”

  Swiftly, the old man gulped down half of his cup and stood. He walked over to his table and placed the cup down. There was a scroll and reeds for writing. Tiber took up a reed and rolled out the scroll.

  “While you are here, I will see about your activities for the coming Triumph Festival.” He started, seemingly ignoring the previous conversation. “I hear through the grapevine that you have started courting the General’s own blood?”

  “Ah, yes.” Vince said surprised at the ease Tiber dropped the previous conversation. “Elder, what happened—”

  “Vincent, please leave it in the past. The men from that time are dead and gone. Only I remain. My life is onto more exciting prospects like planning three days of festival. Now tell me, do you plan to propose to her?”