Teutoburg 9

A Warning [3]

Vetera, Eastern Germania
Inferior Frontier of the Roman Empire
Autumn, 9 αAD

The following morning I was awoken suddenly from a quickly blurred dream, to the sound of horns blaring in the camp. It must be to wake the Legions for the incoming arrival of the Governor who had supposedly been traveling from another outpost after a delegation was held with some senior officials in "Gallia Belgica". As I was repeatedly informed by plenty of the men last night.

What an awful headache. All of my muscles are incredibly sore as well. Though I had been asked to come meet the Governor with... Arminius. So I will abide by the request.

I have not had enough time to contemplate the facts of my situation so I will not let my assumptions cloud my judgment until I have pieced more things together. I sense today will bring full clarity to exactly when I am.

I pull myself from the cot and put on all of my kit and gear once again. As I go to grab my helm from the small table, I glance down at the small offering pile, my eyes trace back over to the figurine of Mars. A small flame of anger crackles within me and without another thought slam my helm down onto the figurine and through the table, destroying the entire setup and sending the little offering bowls and piles all over the ground with a crash. 

I look down at the crumpled table and demolished figure of a long dead Pagan god resting at my feet. I kneel down, pick up the pieces of the figure in a small cloth, and hide it away under my belt. I silently place my helm over my head, do the sign of the cross, and walk out of my tent.

After a small, quick breakfast with some tired chatter amongst the soldiers about what is to come today, a small commotion erupts at the camp gates, before they swing open and Arminius barrels through on horseback. As he approaches the center of the camp, the exhausted expression on his face becomes quite clear. He dismounts, and asks if the Governor has returned yet only to be met with some tired and half-hearted variations of "No" and "Not yet". He appeared to deflate a bit before walking back to his tent without saying anything else. No one seems phased by this, from what I can tell, this sort of thing happens from time to time.

"Germans." Says one of the men quietly to those around him - or something close to that from what I can tell. This garners a stifled laugh from a handful of them before one of them hushes the group and they go back to their morning duties.

Sweet Christ. This is indeed Hell, I have surmised. I am being punished for something. Though until I know exactly what for, I will not go along with what is to come - without a fight. 

***

I spent a decent portion of the midday wandering the camp, speaking with various soldiers that I vaguely recall from the blur that was last night. Mostly asking simple things, about what their duties entailed, what they did on their downtime, their opinions on things such as the barbarians and how life was in the Empire proper. Returning in kind with responses to the variety of inquiries into my armour, my kit, my allegiances. Well, as best I could without giving much away.

While doing this, I decided, it was useful to whisper here and there about the "violence" and "awful things" I had seen out in my time in Northern Germania. Of course, not my own experiences but things I recalled from the Histories I had read. This did not matter, I needed to sow the seeds of deeper resentment and distaste for the barbarians in them. I am sure many already had such feelings, but many had yet to see real combat. Not against men. Combat against monsters. These are the ones who needed such visceral reminders through awful tales.

Surprisingly, the stoic man who I had met with Arminius yesterday in the woods had joined me at one point. I learned that he went by "Atrius" as he started telling his own tales of his awful experiences out on patrols to myself and the men I had been speaking to. Despite being caught incredibly off guard by him saying anything at all, they still listened intently and shared their sentiments. There happened to be some converted Germanic soldiers in the camp, but they mostly kept to their own little corner, not paying much attention to the discussions of the others.

I did however, inform the men to keep quiet around some of the higher ranking Germans who were around as to not cause any scenes, but to be warry of them out here regardless. I found myself framing weaving these tales almost akin to old folk tales and superstitions, it was doing the job. Though there is still more to be done.

Based on some reports from the gate guards, "Governor Varus" and his caravan had been delayed until the late evening due to paths being quite muddy on the way here. That settles it. The final confirmation to my suspicions about this strange time. Something must be done.