The roar of laughter refused to die.

Julius had faced cavalry charges with steadier composure than he now managed beneath the assault of half-drunk legionnaires.

"You got cornered?" one of the younger soldiers repeated, nearly falling off his bench. "By two women?"

"Ambushed," another corrected solemnly. "A tactical failure."

Zeff leaned back, utterly delighted. "Tell us, oh tragic hero—did they block the exits? Surround you? Cut off retreat?"

Julius dragged a hand down his face.

"I was not attempting retreat."

"Ah," Zeff nodded gravely. "So it was a surrender."

The table exploded again.

Julius took a slow drink, the picture of forced dignity.

"It was a discussion," he said evenly.

"Mm," Zeff hummed. "And how did this ’discussion’ begin?"

Julius hesitated.

That was all the invitation they needed.

"Oh gods," Zeff wheezed. "You hesitated."

A soldier thumped the table. "He hesitated!"

"I did not," Julius snapped.

"You just did now!" someone shouted.

More laughter.

Julius exhaled through his nose, then—foolishly—decided honesty was faster.

"They attempted to refuse."

Silence fell.

Zeff blinked.

"...Refuse?"

"Yes."

"You got ambushed," Zeff said slowly, "to be rejected?"

Julius pointed at him sharply. "They were attempting to give me a an escape."

One of the legionnaires stared. "That’s worse."

Zeff slapped the table again. "You mean they thought they were protecting you from themselves?"

"Yes."

"And your response?"

"I laughed."

The table went still for half a second.

Then Zeff leaned back and howled.

"You laughed at them?!"

"It was not mockery!"

"Sure it wasn’t."

Julius pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I explained my own unworthiness."

That quieted them slightly.

Zeff tilted his head. "Oh? And how’d you manage that?"

Julius sighed.

"I just let them both know what kind of entitled spoiled brat i was back when i was a kid."

Several of the younger soldiers perked up immediately.

"Spoiled?" one asked.

"Entitled?" another echoed with interest.

Zeff’s grin sharpened into something dangerous.

"Oh boys," he said, eyes gleaming, "this is where it gets good."

Julius shot him a warning look.

Zeff ignored it entirely.

"You see," Zeff continued, lowering his voice theatrically, "before our friend here became a paragon of reform and glory—he was an absolute menace."

"I was conducting internal investigations," Julius muttered.

"By terrorizing your own province?" Zeff shot back.

"It was strategic misdirection."

"It was you being an insufferable brat."

The soldiers were enthralled now.

"You’re telling me," one said slowly, pointing at Julius, "that you were one of those noble bastards from Lunan?"

Julius gave him a flat look. "Clarify."

"Overtaxing, overconfident, thinks he’s smarter than the gods themselves?"

"...Temporarily."

The table erupted again.

Zeff leaned forward, eyes wicked. "You should’ve seen him back then. Storming around like the world personally offended him."

"It was for a purpose."

"You had a superiority complex."

Julius took another drink, trying—and failing—to suppress a reluctant smile.

The soldiers on the other hand were no longer holding back.

"Did you at least duel people dramatically?" one asked eagerly.

"no," Julius replied dryly.

Zeff pointed triumphantly, "He was to young for that, but that didnt stop him from having women summoned to his chambers at night."

Julius shook his head. "For the record, i never asked for them, they were sent by the retainers."

One of the legionnaires squinted at him.

"...So... more women you rejected them, even if they were throwing themselves at you."

"Sure you aren’t just gay mate?"

Zeff snorted ale through his nose, trying desperately to say something but utterly incapable of getting the words formed.

Julius looked scandalized. "I am not."

The table howled again.

A fresh round of drinks appeared—paid for, apparently, by someone who thought this spectacle deserved encouragement.

Julius did not protest.

If this was to be his humiliation, he would endure it with composure.

Or at least with ale.

One particularly bold legionnaire leaned in closer.

"So tell us," he said, slurring only slightly, "what’s it like? Marrying two women of the most powerful empire?"

Julius paused.

For once, the teasing edge faded.

He stared into his tankard.

"It is... daunting."

That honesty earned quiet.

Zeff studied him.

"Scared?" he asked, not unkindly.

Julius considered the word.

"Yes," he said simply.

The soldiers exchanged looks.

Zeff nodded slowly.

"Good," he said.

Julius raised an eyebrow.

"You should be," Zeff continued. "Means you actually care."

A beat passed.

Then Zeff’s grin returned in full force.

"Also means they’re absolutely going to run circles around you."

The moment shattered into laughter again.

Julius rolled his eyes. "You are projecting."

"I am experienced," Zeff corrected proudly. "Three children, remember?"

"Three accidents," Julius muttered.

Zeff gasped in mock offence.

"Three blessings!"

"Blessings who peed in your face last month."

"That didn’t happen!"

"Well your wife would state otherwise, i only just heard about this story a few days ago now, so it must be true, might also explain the excessive drinking now."

The legionnaires were clutching their sides now.

Zeff pointed at Julius. "You think you’re ready? You can’t even handle my kids."

"I command legions."

"Legions don’t cry at midnight."

"...They have."

The table lost all composure.

One soldier wiped tears from his eyes.

The once private conversation had instead become a public town hall, with every patron within the tavern making Julius and by proxy Zeff the center of attention, and the only saving grace was the fact that the ale flowed freely.

Still—

When the next tankard arrived, he lifted it with the others.

"To the poor bastard getting married!" someone shouted.

Julius sighed.

Zeff raised his drink high.

"To our doomed friend!"

The tavern echoed the toast.

Julius lifted his tankard.

"To peace," he corrected quietly.

They clinked anyway.

And for that night—

He was not Emperor of Romanus.

He was not the architect of continental conquest.

He was not the axis of power upon which nations turned.

He was simply a man on his stag night—

Laughing too loudly.

Drinking too much.

Being mercilessly mocked by friends who would faint on the spot if they knew exactly who sat among them.

And as the night deepened, and the city lights flickered beyond the tavern walls—

Julius decided that for once—

Public humiliation was a small price to pay for feeling human.