Recruit camp, Cisalpine Gaul — 57 BC
As soon as he crossed the palisade, the air grew thick with the smell of leather, trampled dirt, and human sweat. The tents were lined up like furrows in a field sown by Roman hands. Everything seemed temporary, yet perfectly ordered. As if even the mud knew its place.
Sextus was led to a tent where three other young men were already waiting. The centurion in charge didn't bother to ask names. He simply pointed:
"This is your contubernium. Eight men per tent. Learn to live together. If one fails, you all fall."
And with that, he left.
The three stared as Sextus entered and set down his bag. None of them looked older than twenty.
"You give up the plow for the spear too?" asked the tallest, with a sly grin and curly hair."I'm Gaius. From the hills of Arretium."
"Sextus," he replied."Near Nursia. Dry land."
"All of Italy's dry this year," said the second, leaner, with a low voice."Titus. Son of a potter. I broke more vases than I sold. So now I'll break Gauls, I suppose."
The third, who looked the youngest, only murmured:
"I'm Marcus."
"Where are you from, Marcus?" asked Gaius.
"Rome. Transtiberim," he said quietly."They caught me after a theft… it was either this, or…"
"Or end up hanging from a post," Titus finished, not unkindly.
A brief silence followed. Not of awkwardness, but of understanding. Each carried his own weight. The camp asked no questions.
"You think we'll fight soon?" Marcus asked, staring at the ground.
"Caesar didn't form this legion to plant vineyards," Gaius replied.
"Have any of you seen him?" Sextus asked.
"They say he's smarter than the whole Senate," said Titus, half-serious."Gives gold to soldiers and speeches to the people. When he talks, even the wolves go silent."
"I just hope I don't die in the first week," Marcus said, trying to smile.
"Then make sure you don't fall asleep while I'm snoring," Gaius added, theatrically throwing himself down.
There was no training that night. Just unfamiliar noises, hard bedding, and restless thoughts. But for the first time in days, Sextus didn't feel alone.
They were young. Without shields, without glory, without a story.But in that moment, they were already men of the Thirteenth Legion.