Chapter Text
The chatter that filled the chief's hut, hushed and spoken through whispers, slowly died off as Vitalstatistix raised his hands and stood from his chair, all men looking up at him, awaiting his words. "My people." He bellowed, though his commanding voice seemed ridiculously exaggerated. "Though I admit it with shame, it is obvious that during Caesar's last attack on our village, we were nearly thwarted, all due to our ignorance of his plan. Such unpreparedness cannot happen again!" He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, other hand gesturing towards the assembly in front of him. "We must do something, so that we will not be surprised by his advances." He squinted, looking off to the side. "Of course, I uh... Do have an ingenious plan, but, to be fair to you all, I think we should... Voice our own ideas." He cleared his throat, and others began glancing at each other, muttering amongst themselves. Asterix looked to Obelix, who shrugged and shook his head.
Out of the crowd, the village's druid Getafix came, one hand drawn through his long white beard. "A way to know the Roman's plans ahead of time, you say?" His brow raised, and the hut became deathly quiet. "Well, unless we master the art of long-distance telepathy, I believe the only way we can accomplish this is, if we send one of us to Rome... As a spy." His eyes knowingly glided towards Asterix as he said this, the small man winking in response. Vitalstatistix looked appalled, though. "Espionage?! Getafix, we are an honorable people!" He frowned, arms crossed across his chest. "Not like those Romans. We cannot stoop so low." He said firmly, but Getafix did not back down. "Even when it would benefit us, and protect us from Roman attacks that have come close to defeating us, and ensure our village's safety for years to come?" The druid leaned forward, and the chief lowered his head, grumbling under his breath. "Well, I mean..." He averted answering, and instead changed his sentence. "Who would be spy, anyway?" He followed Getafix's unsubtle gesturing with his head towards Asterix, who stood proud, wings on his helmet perked and chest pushed forward. "I would gladly depart on this journey, O Vitalstatistix." He said, a snide glint in his eye. The chief defeatedly leaned back. Obelix tapped his helmet, but did not say anything.
"In that case..." Vitalstatistix muttered, twirling mustache with one finger. "Should we send Asterix to Rome alone?" He did not argue against Asterix being the choice, he always delivered, always succeeded in whatever task he set himself to. But even then, he was reliant on the magic potion, which posed a lot of scenarios where he could be in danger. Getafix chuckled at Vitalstatistix's question. "Why, Asterix doesn't go anywhere without Obelix, does he?" He reached an open palm towards the large warrior, who perked up at the mention of his name, looking between Asterix, Getafix and Vitalstatistix, confusion spelled out in his raised brows. "I get to go to Rome again?" He suddenly lit up, realizing what a wondrous opportunity this was. "A city specifically full of Romans?!" He hollered, a few Gaulish men grumbling in jealousy, that they would not experience another big fight for a long while. Asterix chuckled heartedly, clasping hands together. "I think I have a good plan."
The meeting had ended, and Asterix and Obelix met with Getafix in the druid's home, planning further. "So, Asterix, what did you have in mind?" Getafix inquired, while he was brewing the magic potion Asterix would take with him on his journey. "If we have to stay in Rome for a while, we can't go around looking like Gauls." Asterix, sitting on a tabletop, gestured at his clothing, giving his trousers a grieving glance before continuing to speak. "So we should disguise ourselves as Romans!" He could feel the cold Roman nights biting at his bare ankels already. Getafix looked at him, giving an approving nod. "Yes, that would make most sense. But how do you think that you will learn of Caesar's plans, walking around in the city's slums?" The druid dropped one whole lobster into his cauldron. "Well, my thinking is, we rise up in the ranks, and become servants to Caesar's most trusted." Asterix tapped at his chin, and Obelix leaned forward. "Like when we sold ourselves as slaves to Osseus Humerus?*" The large man asked, and Asterix pointed to his friend, smiling. "Exactly. We just stay one level under Caesar so he doesn't recognize us, and we hear all of his schemes from the second person that hears them."
[ *Asterix and The Laurel Wreath]
Getafix hummed, sprinkling in some salt. "Yes, yes, that is an ingenious plan, Asterix." He smiled towards the warrior, who beamed. "This plan will rely on stealth and keeping an utmost low profile. Asterix, I trust that you can deliver." He nodded, and Obelix huffed, stuffing hands in his pockets. "Oh, so MISTER Asterix can do no wrong, MISTER Asterix always does right, Obelix just TAGS ALONG." He scoffed, looking away as Asterix glanced upon him with puzzlement. Getafix shook his head. "Obelix, you will be very important for this mission as well. You will serve as Asterix's protector, and if you are discovered, you can get him and you out of there in a second." Just as the druid opened his mouth again, so did Obelix, and they spoke in unison. "Because you (I) fell into the cauldron as a child and therefore you (I) need no magic potion." The unbeatable Gaul scuffed at the floor with his shoe, but seemed a bit less moody after Getafix's reassurance. Asterix ignored the brief emotional episode.
"When do we take off then?" Obelix said after a few moments, and Getafix poured potion into Asterix's flask, a knowing smile on his face. Asterix jumped off of the table, grabbing the flask, filled to the brim with the golden, aromatic liquid, and fastened it to his belt.
"How about overmorrow?" The druid looked at them, and they looked at each other, and they nodded.
[Meanwhile, at Caesar's palace.]
A young slave poured dark burgundy wine from an amphora into Caesar's golden goblet, held diligently in his hand, the emperor laying on his chaise lounge with the same elegance of posing as a greek statue. His face was a neutral slate, head resting against his hand, the bejeweled rings adorning his fingers glinting in the sunlight that shone through the open archways and filtered through the heavy curtains. He was brooding, brows furrowing as his companion in the room began to speak again, fingers nervously intertwining.
"C-Caesar, I am growing anxious, I feel like a choice needs to be made.. Quickly." The centurion, awkwardly bunched up on the opposite chaise lounge, was staring into his wine, unable to look Caesar in the eye. His black hair was messy from being stuck under his helmet, some strands sticking to his forehead. "I-i don't want to offend you, but... The longer we stay in... In th.. that part of Armorica, we'll only lose more and more soldiers... We can barely step foot out of our own camp!" He swallowed, looking up to see that Caesar was not looking at him, rather towards the window, frown seemingly set in stone.
"I am aware. The senate is growing uneasy, and more irritated with me. The longer that village stands, the more my power crumbles." He sneered, trailing his fingers across his laurel wreath, dreading the possibility he would have to go without it one day. He looked at the centurion, stare cold and hard, like the marble busts that depicted him. "What choice do you believe should be made, Ignavus?" Caesar seemed to ask genuinely, but there was some sort of patronizing tone in his voice, as if mocking the idea that the centurion could come up with a better strategy than Caesar himself.
The centurion, Ignavus, stilled for a moment, contemplating what he would put forth to his emperor. "W-well, either we retreat, and let the territory remain unconquered..." Caesar shot him a glare, and Ignavus gulped before continuing. "Or you come up with a plan that will take care of them for good." He cowered under Caesars scrutiny and silent anger. "So you suggest that it is my fault, and not you incompetent centurion's, that my strategies fail?" He looked into his goblet with contemplation, seeming calm, but a truly calm Caesar was rare these days. Ignavus swallowed thickly. "Of course not, your strategies are genius, the most influential in the history of the world!*" He almost stumbled over his words, desperate to appease the crescendoing rage in Caesar.
[*It was likely people similar to Ignavus who wrote the history books that claim this.]
Caesar scoffed, setting his goblet down on a side table. "Then why, centurion, have I not exclaimed 'Gallia est pacata*', once again? Veni, vidi, vici**? It is because not you, not your colleagues, nor your cowardly soldiers can defeat one village of bumbling farmers!" Caesar snapped the last few words, and Ignavus pursed his lips, fear dripping down his face and back, or perhaps that was just sweat from the summer heat. He did not respond. There was nothing he could say to defend himself. Eventually, Caesar seemed to calm down, and looked thoughtfully away, into the distance.
[*A quote we do not speak of, as it was said of Alesia. **A popular catchphrase, coined by the dictator himself.]
"Maybe I do have a plan that will solve our problem with the Gauls." He looked at Ignavus, and a smile crept upon his face. The centurion felt fear shoot up his spine.
[Back with our heroic Gauls, two days later...]
Asterix looked with distaste at the white tunics spread out on the table, both with a simple light blue trim at the edges. They were far too airy for his tastes, and white was not a good color to wear when traveling, much less when fighting. Getafix held two pairs of sandals by their strings, smiling smugly at Asterix's expression. "I'm sure you two will manage..." He handed one pair to Asterix, who begrudgingly took them. "It was your idea, and Rome is very warm in the summer." He patted the small man on the shoulder, then turned his attention to Obelix. "Now, Obelix, you must remember that under no circumstances can you reveal your strength, the Romans will immediately realize you are a spy if you do." He pointed a warning finger at the menhir carver, who harumphed. "Yes, yes, no knocking on doors, no asking for directions, no drinking, no responding to insults, no talking, no breathing-" He was interrupted by Asterix, who was changing into his tunic and sandals.
"Alright, Obelix, you get it." He shook his head, placing his helmet on the table, replacing it with a golden band on his head. Obelix laughed out loud at the sight, tapping at his nose. "You look like a roman! But with a big, Gaulish nose and mustache!" He giggled, and Getafix knitted his brows together. "Now that you mention it..." He looked between the two spies. "It is not typical roman fashion to have such facial hair. And certainly not braids, either." He took a glance towards the blades that hung from his walls, and both Gauls became pale in the face. "Druid, you can't possibly be insinuating..." Asterix and Obelix exchanged panicked glances, until a light seemed to ignite in Asterix's eyes, and he hit his fist against his palm.
"I know, we'll pose as Gallo-roman ambassadors! No need to shave, and no need for them to be suspicious of our noses!" He tapped said nose, mimicking Obelix's earlier gesture. Obelix seemed relieved. "Very well then, you really are a strategist, Asterix." Getafix praised, and then handed the second pair of sandals to Obelix, who accepted them with a bit less hesitation than Asterix.
Once they had become appropriately dressed, and had packed the bare necessities (Obelix disagreed with Asterix's claim that a menhir was not a bare necessity, but complied nonetheless), they left Getafix's home; to be immediately stared down by all villagers currently outside, some dropping whatever they held in their hands at the sight of their champions in the clothing of their greatest enemies. Asterix waved sheepishly at them, while Obelix was busy trying to figure out how to tie his sandals up properly. A crash was heard from the chiefs hut, and at the entrance, Vitalstatistix had fallen off of his shield, mustache disheveled and helmet askew; he marched towards the warriors, fists planted defiantly on his hips. "What in all of the Gaulish gods?! You haven't even left the village, and already the Romans have converted you!"
Asterix stifled a laugh, adjusting his head band. "No no, this is a disguise, so the Romans don't recognize us!" He spread his arms, allowing the chief to see the tunic, his face visibly becoming disgusted at the sight. "Hmph. Very well, then, but the moment you step through that gate on your return, you will be back in your pants!" He warned, but his expression softened. Obelix had finally tied up his sandals, and had barely listened to the conversation beforehand. "Oh well. I will gather the villagers for your parting!" Vitalstatistix said and turned away, awkwardly walking back to his shield, the two bearers impatiently tapping their feet against the ground. Asterix shrugged at Obelix, who looked at him with puzzlement, before they took off to the village entrance.
Once there, villagers stood to bid their farewells, Cacophonix already buried from the chest-down in a hole, with his broken lyre, and Fulliautomatix, next to him. Geriatrix tapped Asterix on the shoulder with his cane, making him promise that it would be like Gergovia all over again, despite the fact they did not plan on any sort of battle this time around. Once everyone had said their goodbyes, Asterix saluted them all, and he and Obelix went off into the afternoon. Dogmatix followed, of course.
"Asterix, why is it that we can't wear pants?" Obelix inquired as they ventured through the forest, pulling at his tunic that was more like a curtain wrapped in all sorts of directions around him. "Because the romans think pants are uncivilized; a true roman gentleman wears a tunic." Asterix smiled, all of a sudden. "Even Caesar remarked the significance of how Gaulish men in pants were barbarians in his recollections!" He chuckled, Obelix tutting. "Crazy Romans... Crazy Julie..." he muttered under his breath. A rustling in the bushes redirected their attention. "Aha! A boar!" Asterix smirked knowingly at his companion before saying more. "You should catch it, we won't get many opportunities to eat boar while we're in Rome." That alone was enough to set Obelix off into the woods, Asterix leaning against a tree, patting the anxious Dogmatix as they waited for Obelix to return.
Eventually, he stepped out of the bushes, grumbling. "No boar, just some romans." He huffed, and Asterix went pale in the face. "Romans?! You didn't fight them, did you?" He was afraid Obelix had already blown their cover, but to his relief, his friend shook his head. "No, they didn't even see me. I think they're blind to fellow roman citizens." He shrugged and continued walking, Dogmatix eagerly hopping after him. Asterix went through some scenarios in his head of what they should do if they encountered a roman troop.
Thankfully, they met none on the rest of the way through the forest, and they now walked along a dirt road. Obelix turned his head towards Asterix, who knew another question was coming. "Asterix, I was thinking..." He paused, arms crossed behind his back. "If we climb the roman social ladder up to right beneath Caesar... Wouldn't his associates recognize us?" He looked rather confused when Asterix smiled in response. "Probably not, Caesar replaces his staff every time we overcome one of his schemes." Obelix realized it was indeed different Romans that were sent every other fight. "Huh."
Almost right after that, a carriage halted beside them, the driver a roman, clad in light armor. "Halt! Where are you two going?" The man narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing them with suspicion, gaze especially on their curiously non-roman facial hair. Asterix gave him a patient smile, raising a hand in greeting. "Ave, fellow roman! I am Subtiliterus, and this is my friend and companion, Fortiserus. We are Gaulish ambassadors, on our way to Rome." Obelix looked around for this 'Fortiserus' in vain. The roman did not look entirely convinced, but his voice did soften a bit. "Now... you wouldn't happen to be from... the indomitable village?..." Despite his confident tone and pose, there was a twinge of fear at the mention of the village that had withstood conquest many, many, many, many times*. Asterix spoke before Obelix had a chance to open his mouth. "No no, we are nothing like those barbarians! We are from the village of Cassius Ceramix.**" He said with confidence enough that the roman seemed to believe him.
[*I was going to list all comics with instances of this, but that would take a while. **Gallo-roman chief from Asterix and the big fight.]
"Hm, I see." The Roman glanced behind at his cart, then back at the disguised fighters. "I am going to Rome too, I have a special date with Caesar, and no, you did not hear me wrong. I can take you there." The roman puffed out his chest with pride, Asterix giving a slight snide smile. A date with Caesar was not that special to him anymore, with how often they occurred. "Oh, really? Well that's very kind of you." He gestured for Obelix to follow, and they both hopped up into the cart, seating themselves on the inbuilt benches, Dogmatix sitting in Obelix's lap. "What's your name, by the way?" Asterix asked, as the roman made his two horses continue down the road. "Facile Fatuus." He answered bluntly, and they went on quietly, Obelix only thrice remarking that he was hungry before they reached a roadside inn, the sun setting in the distant horizon. Facile looked at the two gauls, retrieving his wallet (really just a bag with coins in it). "We will stay overnight here, the travel to Rome is long, and the horses need rest." They pulled in, a servant leading the horses to a stable, and Facile being perhaps a bit shocked at Obelix taking all of the cart's inventory inside by himself, without any sign of strain.
"Is your friend, Fortiserus, a colossus?" Facile quietly asked Asterix as they sat down at one of the inn's tables, Obelix putting their things into their two rooms upstairs. "No, he's just well-padded." Asterix answered, to Facile's confusion. Obelix returned, and they all ate together, a rather small plate of boar meat for each, which Obelix felt personally offended by, but somehow kept his complaints to himself. Once they were finished, they retreated to their rooms, Obelix and Asterix having one for their own. "He's nice for a roman, huh?" Asterix asked Obelix as he gently took off his headband, placing it on the nightstand beside his bed, his sandals underneath. Obelix was already settled on his own bed, not having removed any clothing, Dogmatix curled up on his stomach. "I didn't really notice. Aren't all romans the same?" He answered, Asterix looking at him, not all too surprised by the generalizing remark. "Well, they do try to be." He dismissed it, and went to bed as well.
The next morning, they were once again on their way with Facile Fatuus, driving towards Rome, where they each had their own hopes.
Facile hoped of becoming Caesar's right hand man, Asterix of returning home with success, and Obelix really just wanted an opportunity to bash some romans.