Teutoburg 9

The Legions [2]

Eastern Germania Inferior
Frontier of the Roman Empire
Autumn

We had walked for some time, eventually cresting a large hill overlooking a clearing. 

In the center was a rather expansive Encampment filled with rows upon rows of tents. Surrounded by large wooden walls on all sides with fortified gates at either end. With lookout perches at the various corners and midsections of the walls opposite the gates. 

Populated by a sea of more Roman soldiers of Old. 

This is too much for simply a Theatrical ruse. Not when we have a war to fight back home.

I trudge along behind the two Soldiers as we make our approach to the camp's main gate. The late evening setting in as various campfires are beginning to billow smoke up and over the walls into the cloudy sky. 

 The chatter of soldiers can be heard as they are getting ready for a meal. A sea of banter, shouting, some singing - from the sound of it, some men are already quite drunk. Once again, I am able to discern that they are in fact speaking some fashion of Old Latin.

We arrive at the gate where some guards are standing, they greet the two I have accompanied, before staring past the men at myself with curious but wary looks on their faces, fingering the pommels of their swords in their belts. 

"Who is this stranger with you? A prisoner?" Asks one of the guards while staring at me, but clearly speaking to the more courteous of the two men. Seems that even they know the silent one to be quite abrasive. 

"A guest!" Boasts the soldier in response.

 "He slayed that elusive beast of a barbarian who had been attacking our horses and patrols - the one who we had been tacking for a while now." He continues as the abrasive man raises the head in the boar skin to the guard, two others lean in to look at it and back towards me, whispering to one another.

"Is he a barbarian? He does not dress as us, I don't believe mercenaries are even employed out this far, nor is there need for those such as them." Questions the guard, gesturing in my direction.

 "We aren't sure, he speaks Latin as we do but in a strange manor, though it is not a Germanic accent." Replies the soldier.

"You, stranger, where do you hail from? What are you doing out here?" Asks the guard, now addressing me directly. The small group of "Romans" are all looking at me strangely. 

"I hail from the Duchy of Brittany, under the English Crown." I reply to the guard, straightening my tired posture.

 "In all honesty, I do not know how I got here." I follow up with after a brief pause.

I am met with a look of confusion from the group of men. Before the guard speaks up.

"I have not heard of such places, which means you must be from quite far. Judging by your attire you must be very wealthy though. I mean, white and black robes? Such an ornate helm... and that sword! It has to be the largest I have ever seen! No barbarian wields such weaponry." The others nod in agreement. They have said this twice now, though I am no noble. I will not inform them of that though.

"I believe the Governor would be quite interested in meeting this man. Though not this evening as he has some important things to attend to from what I heard." Says the guard to the group.

"He shall join us for dinner this evening, as he seems to have had a long journey. He can regale us with tales of his homeland and battles!" Announces the soldier. Clearly eager to get to the wine and minimize the endless questions that will arise here with these guards.