Recruit camp, Cisalpine Gaul — End of Week 5
Dawn came without the horn. For the first time since arriving at the camp, no one woke them with shouting. The silence was stranger than the noise. Something was about to happen.
They were called one by one to wash, shave, and dress in clean tunics. Their rudis, training shields, and any non-regulation items were taken. They weren't even allowed their personal bags. Nothing. Just themselves.
They were marched in formation to an open field near the eastern palisade. There, before a wooden platform, stood the aquilifer, bearer of the legion's standard. At his side, hands clasped behind his back, was the centurion.
"Today," the centurion said, without raising his voice,"you are no longer recruits.Today, you become miles legionarii.Your life no longer belongs to you.It belongs to Rome.To the Legion.To death, if necessary."
The aquilifer raised the standard. The golden eagle gleamed in the rising sunlight. No birds sang. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
One of the subofficers stepped forward and recited the oath in a clear voice, word by word, as the recruits repeated in chorus:
"I swear… to be faithful to the commander Caesar.I promise to obey his orders…not to abandon my standard…not to flee the enemy…and to fulfill my duties…even if it costs me my life."
Sextus repeated every word as if carving them into stone.He didn't understand everything, but he understood what mattered:from this moment, he was a legionary.
There were no cheers. No embraces. Only tense stares, held breaths, and a shared certainty:
They were no longer farmers, nor thieves, nor sons of nobodies.They were soldiers of the Thirteenth Legion.
When they returned to the tent, Marcus said nothing. Titus rubbed his eyes without hiding it. Gaius, for once, looked more solemn than sarcastic.
Sextus sat down slowly.Looked at his hands.Raised them.And whispered:
"They're not mine anymore."