Chapter Text
I have some lengthy Asterix' fanfics in my past, none of which I ever posted here. Recently, I got quite fascinated by the works exploring Asterix's relationship with 'Jules César'. So much, that I got tempted to have my own go. There is a general plan, which I generally do not follow. I assume this will be a few chapters long, and the end is written, so we will get there :-).
As always, comments are life!
Glory threaded back and forth, trying to secure some steady ground under his hooves. Julius guided his white stallion onto a formation of rocks, and sighed when he discovered them dangerously slippery.
He hated these parts of Gaul.
The problem with making alliances, was that said allies called in favours. Gaius Julius Caesar wasn’t shy of refusing favours, but he also believed in guarding your investments. Not only was Moralelastix’ clan among his prime taxpayers, they had also, a few summers back, secured his troops a ship to pass to Germania without having to brave the warrior infested rivers.
Julius Caesar had not conquered Germania. But after all, what value did those swamps hold? He had cleared the rivers, and that had sufficed, for then. Today, some Barbarians had crossed the Mosa and threatened their revenge on Moralelastix’ clan. Inconveniently, Julius had been on a detour from Hispania to Britannia, which made him the closest General available.
Of course, there was also the matter of him detesting the other Generals far too much to call in their aid.
It rained as much in Belgica as it did in Britannia. He should have left Brutus to deal with all this mud. Especially since the Gaul clan he was called into defend had been far less forthcoming with their taxes in recent years. They had elected a new leader, some fool called Arlenix.
But he would need his adoptive son’s favour soon, and he could not afford to keep exiling him.
“I would mind my step if I were you.”
His head shot up, a shudder shooting through his spine. He recognised that voice, always ready to disrupt his plans. Sure enough, Asterix sat a few levels above him, having the lookout Julius would never achieve without dismounting his stallion. Asterix sat back, his weight on his hands, feet dangling over the edge of the wet granite. As if watching a sports game in the valley below, rather than a future battlefield.
“You are aiding Germanians now?” Julius barked up at him. It made no sense. Absolutely no sense. It didn’t seem to fit in with that precious code of honour of his either.
“Oh, no. Vitalstatistix and Arlenix are great palls. Seems he called for help twice.”
Fools attracted fools. Julius rolled his eyes, and to his ultimate surprise, Asterix snickered:
” Have no fear, Jules. Your soldiers seem to have their tortoise act together. I would much prefer to let them take the first round of arrows, before …”
“… Your buddy runs in.”
Asterix shook his head. “Obelix is going nowhere near those Germanians. And neither am I. Arlenix’s clan can defend its own village. Or you can. Be my guest.”
Asterix didn’t even bother to hide his disinterest. As if the outcome of the battle ahead barely mattered to him. Interesting. A little unsettling, even. Julius decided to join his troops, lest they got runover by a blue-striped maniac wearing braids. Obelix tended to at least await conversation when he spotted Rome’s dictator on the battlefield.
“Obelix! We’re done here! Let Jules deal with the Germanians!” Asterix’ voice carried like a megaphone, amplified by the magic potion, no doubt.
“Can I beat up the Romans after?” Obelix hollered back at him.
“There is no need!”
“Need???”
Julius carefully steered Glory around Asterix’s dumbfounded best friend and concentrated on the battle ahead. With Arlenix’s men on magic potion, his presence was technically obsolete, but damn if he had travelled here without gaining something. Asterix’s tactic of letting Julius’s tortoise formation deal with the first round of arrows, followed by a smashing victory, would renew Julius Caesar’s claim he could fend off any barbarian attack. Something his senators needed near daily reminders of.
While Julius ordered his Centurions around, he glanced back at where Asterix and Vitalstatistix exchanged words with Arlenix, Obelix sulking a few feet behind them. Satisfied that permission to smash his troops had not been granted, Julius drove his stallion forward. From the corner of his eye, he saw Asterix shake his head, his arms folded.
Maybe the Gauls took offence over being called in along Julius Caesar? It seemed a sentiment Vitalstatistix would hold, rather than his first warrior, who, as far as Julius knew him (and he dared to say he did) would be far more understanding towards people seeking to defend their home.
Apparently, not this time. No, Asterix, unlike his chief, detested Arlenix. Detested his entire clan.
Suddenly, joining forces with them felt like a horrible idea.