[Hispania Ulterior, near Corduba, 64 BCE]
The morning light seeped through the open tent flaps. Seven other legionaries were already busy inside, packing their sarcin and gulping down their breakfast.
Valerian, sixteen years old and standing five feet eleven inches, tall for his age and still growing, scanned his contubernium, his short light-golden hair neatly trimmed to avoid drawing attention, sharp blue eyes alert.
Valerian's contubernium was made up of four fresh recruits and four seasoned veterans. This was typical Rome still relied on the milites cives, adult male citizens, usually property-owning, who served in the legions. Military service was obligatory for those eligible, though some volunteered for pay or the hope of political and social advancement.
Many new recruits survived, or didn't, by shadowing the veterans. A cooperative veteran meant your first years were manageable; a resentful or lazy one could make the service a fucking living nightmare, even risking a recruit's life.
Fortunately, Fortuna seemed to favor Valerian that morning. His assigned veteran, Consus, was at least competent. He was well past his forties, with grey hair and a weathered face, built like a battering ram with seven campaigns under his belt. He carried the air of experience. And maybe just a touch of indifference.
Valerian couldn't help but wonder why a man with seven campaigns remained an ordinary legionary.
No ambition?
No talent?
As if. That would happen the same day Jupiter himself decided pigs should fly over the Forum, he wasn't buying it for a second.
"Your back, boy. Did you get your rations?" Consus asked, lifting his head from his own breakfast.
"Yes, sir," Valerian said, smiling and nodding. He naturally handed over the olive oil and most of his dried meat to Consus without hesitation.
Valerian may not have been the best fighter or from a prestigious family, but he had a sharp head on his shoulders. He figured out the unspoken rules of the camp without suffering like his idiot tentmates.
Consus accepted the offering, then smiled faintly and tilted his head. "For me? Or should you keep that, boy? I'm a veteran, not a beggar."
"You jest, Consus? Keeping you fed and strong keeps me breathing" Valerian said, shrugging lightly.
"Hahaha, you're right, absolutely right. I like you, Valerian," Consus laughed heartily. No matter how many times he heard it, he'd never grow tired of this kid working the angles.
"Come, come, and sit," Consus said, waving him over with a grin, the morning light catching the lines of his weathered face.
"Just you wait, you scurrae…" Valerian thought, sitting down eating and glancing at the rest of his tentmates.
The atmosphere was very tense because just last night one of the new recruit Atticus The miserable as Valerian likes to call him reported one of the other veterans, Gaius to the Decanus for going through his sarcin.
WHAT AN IDIOT! Brave, BUT AN IDIOT STILL! WILL THE DECANUS, who spent most of his life with the said man, take his side or yours? What do you have to offer?
Who would you trust to watch your back in the line of battle: a thin, newly enlisted boy, or a veteran who'd bled beside you for years? THE SHEER STUPIDITY!
There were ever only two realistic outcomes in such a situation. Either someone higher in the chain of command wanted Gaius gone, and then he would be removed, or the accuser would fight for his right.
If a man could not defend himself, he handed over his rations, knuckled down, and waited for a better day. That was how discipline and survival worked here.
And the lucky one was Felix, fair-haired and smaller, Even as a new legionary, he had the advantage of a veteran half-brother, Marcus, watching his back. The two naturally looked out for each other, giving Felix a small shield of comfort in the chaos of camp life.
And there was Amulius, the new recruit. Poor Amulius, he looked so awkward and weak.
Aries, the last veteran, was a solid brute: muscular with tanned skin and short dark hair. Valerian couldn't say much about him yet.
"Attention!"
Decanus Tiberius strode into the tent, his presence instantly snapping the men to attention. He was in his thirties, young for his rank, yet already a Decanus with a bright future. With a high chance of eventually becoming a centurion and leading his own century, his authority was unquestioned.
All the new recruits snapped to attention the moment he entered, standing rigid and alert. The veterans, however, barely shifted their expressions.
Did this mean that once a soldier became a veteran, he could ignore the Decanus's presence? Of course not, that would be the height of foolishness. The veterans could afford this only because they were close to him. Anyone else daring to act similarly would provide the Decanus with all the excuse he needed to punish them.
The Decanus' eyes swept over the tent, taking in each soldier. "Listen up!" he barked. "Today's tasks are as follows, Marcus and Felix, foraging; Atticus and Valerian, patrol duty; Gaius and Amulius, sentry posts; Consus and Aries, guarding the tent and supplies. Understood?"
"Yes Domine"
Decanus Tiberius nodded once and did not linger. His hobnailed sandals crunched the gravel just outside the tent flap, the sound immediately lost to the endless clamor of the camp.