Caesar!
Caesar! Caesar! The
unanimous cheers of the prominent thirteenth legion are overwhelming, as the
man himself, Gaius Julius Caesar, arrogantly takes in the rightful applause.
Over the last eight years, the general has conquered the whole of Gaul and
defeated every barbarian in the cold lands north of the Rubicon. And as I'm
standing here, roaring our generals name in the midst of 3000 brave war
veterans, I still find it all unreal.
As every man in the
empire is called up for military duty by the age of eighteen, I always knew the
day was coming; however, I never felt prepared. I remember the day prior to my
birthday, finishing the daily work on my fathers crops home in Southern
Hispania, just outside Cordoba. My mother cried as I rode away towards my
probable death, fighting for a city I had never seen. I was to fight in the
conquest of Gaul, a war in its final stage. Upon arrival we were given helmets,
tunics, armors, spears, swords, shields, daggers and sandals. And suddenly,
there I was standing, as a scared newbie in the frontlines (the newest recruits
were put first in line, as a "buffer" for the veterans, editor) of
the Roman army.
I return from my
daydreaming as the cheering ends and Caesar raises his voice in a speech to his
loyal minions. Apparently, he is not perceived as the same successful hero back
in Rome. He speaks of Rome, a city which does not love its people, but is ruled
by corrupt aristocrates. He believes the power should lie with the true leaders,
the soldiers protecting the Empire. The whole legion is firing up, inspired by
our general. He finally requests us joining him in restoring Rome to its
people, to which our response is a resounding and unanimous YES.I am currently not sure
what this means. However, the talk of the more experienced amongst us is civil
war. A bloody one. Ave, Caesar, morituri
te salutant.
