Chapter 12

Three days after telling his story, another visitor comes to see Ninian. Once again, it is a woman, but she is from the IIA. She appeared to be in her 30's, with black hair and a slight tan.

"Good Morning, I'm S. Korinna Alexandra. I am with the IIA. Can I ask you a few questions?"

The next few hours had Ninian answering questions about the missiles, what kind of equipment the Caliphate soldiers had, and how he knew how to blow up the missiles. Before ending the interview, Korinna asked Ninian if he remembered anything he did not mention before.

"Yeah, ah ... the last patrol, they spoke something different. I know it was not Arabic, as I have heard some little snippets here and there since being stationed in Mesopotamia. I don't know if that helps or not."

"It might. We'll look into it."

She left, leaving Ninian there with five more days of physical therapy.

Floriana walked into Ninian's room with a smile on her face.

"You can't be that happy to get rid of me tomorrow. What gives?"

"You have another visitor," she said laughing.

"OK, I take it this one is a little different?"

"Yes, he is wearing a black suit and the old Gladius Hispaniensis."

"Shit, Praetorian Guard."

Praetorian Guards only come to see you for two things, if you represent a danger to the Imperial family, or for an invitation to the Palace. Neither one sounded good to Ninian.

Floriana returned with the Praetorian Guardsman. He had a face for mid-twenties, and red hair. He wore the standard uniform of a Guardsman, a black suit and a Gladius Hispaniensis at his side. In his hand, he held an envelope that Ninian could guess the contents.

"Tesserarius N. Julius Brian, I'm Navarchus B. Helmfrid Baldovin. I come with a message from His Imperial Majesty Imperator Caesar Augustus Cornelius Domitus Paulus," he said in formal tones holding out the envelope.

Ninian took the envelope, opened it, and read the invitation.

"I am to appear at Palatine Hill, Rome, two weeks from tomorrow. I am to be knighted in the Order of Flamma," he read.

"May I tell His Imperial Majesty your answer?"

"Please tell His Imperial Majesty I am honored and shall be there."

"Very good, Tess. I shall leave you now, but on a personal note, thank-you. My sister is in one of the Legionems targeted."

"I did what I had to do."

"You should wear a Class B, with any ribbons if you have them. If you aren't familiar with Court etiquette I suggest reading up on it."

The Nav. left with Floriana, leaving Ninian with thoughts of childhood stories.

If anyone got to see his eyes, they would see only death. No life, no emotion, no spark. He liked to think that is why he ruled. Only a few had looked upon his face and lived. Scars cover it from many battles when he was younger.

For the past 1500 years, he and his ancestors have been continuing what Mohammed started. At one time Aṣḥama ibn Abjar, King of Kings of Aksum and a Christian, gave shelter to Muslim refugees from Arabia. The tribe controlling Mecca at the time persecuted Muslims, hence the refugees. During the time the refugees lived there, Aṣḥama learned from them. In time, he converted to Islam and had his people do the same.

In the beginning the conversions came, but slowed after a while. Aṣḥama started a secret campaign to rid the unconverted from his Empire. This started a tradition of convert or die that would last to him.

His Grandfather finished Africa, except the parts Rome controlled. Rome, the greatest civilization in the world. How he hated them. Every King of Aksum, when they took the throne had two things they had to continue, the conquering of Africa and keeping Rome in the dark about who really ruled. Puppet rulers and chiefs were the public rulers, but Aksum was the real power. Now it was time for Rome to fall.

Aksum continued to trade with Rome, all the while getting spies in their population, getting jobs and sending information back. He would be the one to bring Rome down, but he needed help. For the past ten years, he secretly formed alliances with all of Rome's enemies and now was the time to strike.

"al-Najashi, there is an Arab merchant that has been asking a lot of question about the city and yourself. What should be done?" asked a small man.

"Bring him in. We shall question him, nicely at first. If he doesn't answer well enough, you shall have him Taonga.

"As my Chief Spy, you are my closest adviser. You know all there is to know, and if not you can get it from anyone. I know you won't fail me."