Well,' He sniffed. 'Things really did develop quickly.'
Rainer found himself bound to a wooden cross, the heat of the bonfire behind him licking at his bare back as it raged.
Below, Roman auxiliary soldiers grouped about, looking up at him with varying expressions, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.
In essence, he was a spectacle.
Before him was a massive white tent, way bigger than the other tents in the camp. And at its fore stood various officers; their prestigious armors and crested helmets making them stand out from the rest.
"Silence!"
Commius barked as a man looking to be in his sixties, came out of the tent.
Despite his age, he was a muscular man with an unreadable visage.
Dressed in a white tunic under a pristine, gold-encrusted lorica segmentata. A white-crested gallic helmet sat fittingly upon his head as he approached; imposing and ready for battle.
The soldiers' chatter quickly died down.
*Click!* *Clank!*
The officer stepped forward with a martial grace. It was clear that he was a cut above the rest. Tall, tan, and built like a Greek statue. And to top it off, he looked Greek too.
His callous grey eyes gazed up at Rainer, examining him intently.
Rainer perked up, feeling suddenly naked before this man's scrutiny. He frowned at the sensation, but then his eyes glinted in realization.
'Oh! So this is the Camp Commander... or should I honorably say, Praefectus Cohortis! Judging by the size of this camp and the fancy trinkets attached to his armor. This must be the Prefect of this auxiliary cohort; likely a milliara equitata, composed of slightly over a thousand soldiers.'
Rainer had long made this assessment during his time being dragged and paraded about across the camp.
His face twitched at the memory. He felt a bit resentful for being treated this way and wanted a bit of payback.
'Perhaps I'll scare them or something.'
Having this thought, Rainer looked back at the Prefect and revealed a mysterious, sharp smile not quite reaching his eyes.
The Pefect's eyes wavered slightly, and his eyelids lowered, but he didn't speak; he simply turned, walked back to his stool and sat down.
However, Rainer appeared content. He had found what he had been looking for in his eyes: apprehension.
"Optio Commius!"
The Prefect summoned in a steady, hard baritone.
At this, Commius stepped forth. He was the officer who had brought Rainer in: The second-in-command of the first century.
Before Commius could speak, however, a soldier yelled out from the crowd.
"This is a bad omen, Lord Praefect!"
"Why has a daemon been brought into the camp?!" Exclaimed another in angst.
Suddenly, one took a staggered step forward, being badly bruised and battered with blood stained bandages wrapped around his exposed right arm and left eye.
"Twice! Have we tried and failed to breach the garrison fort of the rebels who revolted! And now, one of Lord Praefect's slaves becomes possessed by a daemon?! Is the battle not lost already?!?"
Hearing this, Commius' face reddened.
"I said silence, fools! Further acts of disobedience shall be corrected by whips to the back!"
He brutally reprimanded, and the soldiers shrank under his ferocious rebuke.
Standing at the other side of the Prefect was an officer garbed in a damaged and worn lorica segmentata. He exchanged brief glances with the Praefect before stepping forward to address Rainer.
"Slave, do you remember who you are? Or are you truly a daemon as the milites claim?"
His calm, centering voice carried through the air in a commanding wave, and silence reigned now, as soldiers craned their necks to listen.
Rainer's gaze swept around before returning to lock eyes with the officer.
A small smile then tugged at the side of his lips, and a pleased light settled in his eyes. Rainer dipped his chin toward the man in acknowledgment of his commanding spirit before sweeping his gaze across the clusters of torchlights and wonder-filled stares under the dark night.
He opened his mouth.
"I am—not the person you may have once known."
Rainer uttered in a soft, barely audible whisper. But they all heard it, and the implications rushed through their minds.
At this moment, a chilling wind blew across the air, and Rainer went silent, allowing the soldiers mull over his words.
For a while, they remained still and silent. However, from the haunted looks worn by some soldiers, Rainer knew his intended effect was starting to take hold.
A slow, savage grin began threatening to split his face as his eyes glimmered in satisfaction.
'How long has it been since I was feared? This is a tantalizing feeling... Their fear sends pleasant tingles up my spine. Unfortunately, I shouldn't let this linger, or they might panic and act rashly.'
Regardless of how mysterious he may be acting now. Rainer knew he could be slain with ease.
'I guess I should break the tension with a joke now. Then tell them I'm actually an ancestor or something. A friendly patron of Rome...?'
However, just as he was about to break the silence, a soldier glared at everyone with frenzied, bloodshot eyes.
"What then are we waiting for!?" He cried out like a maddened berserker. "We should kill the daemon before it curses the camp!!"
With that, the soldier charged at him with his spear.
Rainer's smug expression immediately switched to horror, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, watching the glistening, pointy spear come for him.
"Eh!? Kill what?! Wait! Don't!!"
The soldier stabbed up at his belly, and at once, Rainer bent hard to the side, dodging the spear. The soldier drew back and thrust again, and this time Rainer jerked to the other side.
The soldier gritted his teeth in a mix of embarrassment and frustration before thrusting again, several times in quick succession. This left Rainer desperately wriggling about like a strung-up eel on a fisherman's hook.
"Wai–wait! I am not a demon!!" He desperately cried out. "Do not let this madman poke me with the pointy stick!!!"
Rainer felt regretful.