The first night we do not stop, either because they are pressed by time or because they want to cover as much distance as possible, so I do not get any ideas of escaping and running back to Oblivis.

  If this is their concern, then they are mistaken, there is no reason for me to go back, no-one is waiting for me back home, even my mother, she will go back to her routine soon enough.

  My heart feels like it has been ripped out of me. My father's reaction hurt me deeper than I thought it would.

  'He didn't even try...'

  The night we spent travelling taught me that I do not have a natural talent at horse riding, despite my mount being calm and unperturbed, I came close to falling off the saddle numerous times, sometimes because I dozed off, the fatigue catching up to me.

  While we spent a full night riding in a close group, none of the legionnaires initiated a conversation with me. Even if they did, I do not know if I would have had the heart to talk.

  After hours of only hearing the clattering of hooves and neighing of horses, the officer gives the order to set camp at last. The sun is already somewhat high in the sky.

  I can't dismount from the mule alone with my hands attached so one of the men helps me get down.

  Soon we are sitting in a semi-circle, I observe the group. There are seven of them, and while scanning their faces I recognize the two man I smashed into when leaving the Old Duck.

  Each one of them has his own food, taken from pouches resting on the horses’ sides. I however have nothing. The officer notices how I look at the food in his hands, only smoked meat, and pitta bread, but I haven't eaten in a full day and could eat anything.

  He gets up and approaches me.

  "Scypion was it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "You hungry boy?"

  I nod.

  "Yes sir."

  I see him pull out a mean looking knife from a sheath by his side and before I can react, he cuts off the rope tying my hands. The only reaction that this got out of the rest of the men is a simple sigh from one of them.

  The officer turns to him:

  "You have a problem with my decision Eadric?"

  The soldier raises his head toward his superior, I notice his greying beard.

  'Probably a veteran then.' I gather.

  "Well sir, he may try to escape, sir. " He explains.

  The officer looks at me.

  "You going to try to escape boy?"

  "No, sir." I quickly answer.

  "Good enough for me, end of discussion."

  He puts half of his food in my hands and goes back to the rock he was sitting on.

  "My name is Cenwulf and I am a tribune officer, part of Umbrosum's First Legion. Tell me, have you ever held a sword?"

  I try to answer but my throat is dry and the words come out croaked. The veteran hands me a goat skin containing water.

  I take a few sips before being able to talk again.

  "No sir, I have never even considered the military path before. I... I didn't sign the Oath, I swear!"

  The officer gets up and starts gathering his items.

  " Do not bother with arguing boy, whatever it is that happened you cannot change so better adapt quickly. As for the sword, well guess you will learn soon enough."

  In only a few minutes we are back on the road. Still a bit numb, bewildered by the events of yesterday, I realize that this is my first time being this far from the town.

  Until now I've had no reason to go further than the wheat fields around my home.

  What I knew from the outside world was limited to the dubious tales of wandering merchants and soldiers on a leave.

  I look around and start taking in the landscape, realizing how big Umbrosum is. I look behind me, hoping to see maybe the top of the wall still, but there is nothing but the wilderness.

  I feel small, too small for a world that suddenly became massive.

  The landscape of Umbrosum is a bit peculiar, you can find your usual forests, plains and meadows sure, however the region is characterized by the great number of rivers, and streams coursing through it.

  This important quantity of water tends to create a lot of bogs and swamps. When the Empire took control of Umbrosum, engineers and slaves spent years building the roads connecting the regions to the rest of the road network.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Now about a decade later these routes are still in great condition, proof of the quality of the Empire engineering.

  Our journey lasts two more days during which not much is said.

  The members of the group obviously are used to working together, they almost do not need to speak, a simple nod or look is enough.

  Not having much else to do, I spent my time observing them: it is somewhat mesmerizing to watch them anticipating each other’s action, or to see the silent exchanges they sometimes have.

  Most remarkable of all is the respect they have for Cenwulf. Each one of his directives is followed by the letter, no arguing, no complaining.

  Cenwulf respects them in return, he is strict but fair. Their discipline is quite a sight. One night I mustered enough courage to ask:

  "Sir, how do you know each other so well?"

  My question surprises him in the middle of a bite. He swallows his food and his lips curl into a small smile.

  "When you sleep, eat, shit and fight with the same men for a few years you know them like the back of your own hands. You'll experience it yourself if you last long enough."

  Magnus never talked much about his time in the military, even when half of the customers of the inn would try to pressure him into telling them a story.

  He recounted a few funny stories and some epic tales; however, he never went into the details.

  Sometimes you could see through the apparent joy he transpired when telling anecdotes and you would glimpse at a profound sadness and longing.

  After all being a veteran is a rare occurrence, and his friends must not have had the luxury of dying of old age.

  Therefore, I didn't know what to expect from this famous camp and as our journey's end was nearing, I began being curious about our destination.

  Now that it is before me, nothing could have prepared me for it.

  Watchtowers that feel as tall as mountains, on each one a banner bearing the face of a snarling woman with snakes instead of hair, baring her fangs: the Medusa, symbol of the Umbrosum's Legion.

  Walls, two or three times higher than the towns, and at their foot, enormous spikes stretching outward, and a moat several meters wide and deep.

  The majority of the structure is made from wood, but the trunks are two thick to be from the surrounding forests, and their almost red hue is more in line with the timber found in Silvana.

  'I can't believe they called it a camp; it is a damn fortress!'

  As we approach the gates facing North my eyes catch the silhouette of legionnaires at their post on the walls and in the watchtowers, I can almost feel them observing our group.

  The hooves of our mounts resound against the bridge going over the moat. The gates being closed we come to a halt.

  A voice rangs out:

  "Who goes?"

  I raise my head to look at the man who just shouted. He is somewhere in his early forties, clean shaven, on his head the helmet with a sideways feathered crest identifying him as a centurion.

  "Cenwulf and a few of my men, back from a requisition negotiation in the town of Oblivis."

  The centurion examines us for a bit, and I just know his eyes linger on me for a bit.

  "When you left, sir, I believe you were seven, and now you come back as a group of eight."

  "As sharp as ever Fabio, we met a recruit on the way."

  " Alright, I see. Open the gates!!"

  The heavy wooden doors creak open slowly, pushed by several soldiers. Seeing their massiveness, I cannot imagine any enemy going through those.

  Behind those lies the camp, rows and rows of tall grey tents, perfectly lined up and at the end of the alley a pavilion as big as my house.

  As soon as we are inside the walls, Cenwulf tells his men to get their horses to the stables. Only he and I are left.

  We keep riding toward the center of the camp, a few soldiers glance at us when we pass, but most ignore us, going on with their activities: tending to a fire, maintaining their armor, sharpening their weapons, or eating.

  As we get closer to its entrance, I see officers busy with documents, and servants running in or out, their arms full of papers.

  We do not stop however and go around it. A few minutes later he slows down to a stop next to the back left section of the camp and motions me to come down my mount.

  A centurion approaches, looking a bit older than one would expect from a legionnaire, he still looks tough as nails, a scar across his lips and left cheek all le way to his eye leaving his face with a perpetual grimace.

  His armor is polished, his clothes impeccable, on his side the usual gladius which I just know is just as sharp as a razor but also a gnarled stick. While I do not know much about military life, I do know what this stick is used for.

  This "weapon" is not used on the enemy it is rather a tool to instill discipline and order into the ranks. A painful reminder that there is no retreating unless ordered to.

  Magnus told me once that he stopped counting how many bruises he'd received from his centurion. I shudder at the thought of receiving a hit.

  "I've brought you a new recruit Vicos. Take him to Lucius"

  The tribute says while handing him the Enlistment Oath I presumably signed. Without waiting for an answer he turns his horse around and leaves with the mule.

  The centurion mumbles a few words I do not catch and turns to me:

  "What is your name?"

  " Scypion sir, Scypion Orson."

  "Alright let's go see my tribute to make sure everything is in order. Follow me."

  We quickly make our way to a tent, inside a simple desk, covered in papers, behind which a man, which I suppose is the Tribute Lucius, is deeply immersed in his work.

  Centurion Vicos enters first and salutes the officer, bringing his fist to his head and putting his knuckles on his forehead and approaches the desk handing the Oath to his superior:

  " Sir, Tribute Cenwulf brought a new recruit."

  The Tribute raises his head and squints his eyes when looking at me, as if my presence was one more burden to his work. He takes the document, takes a few seconds to read it and asks a series of questions.

  "How old are you?"

  "My Passage Ceremony took place a few months ago."

  " Do you have any experience with a weapon?"

  "No, sir."

  "Is there anyone in your family who already served?"

  "No sir."

  "Have you ever had problems with the law?"

  "No, sir, I cannot say I have."

  "Why did you sign the Oath?"

  "I... I do not know sir."

  Listening to my answers he takes his eyes off the document he sits straighter, his eyes lock with mine. He takes his time to ask the next question.

  "You do not want to be here, do you?"

  "No sir I do not want to be here."

  I do not know what pushed me to answer truthfully, maybe his inquisitive glare, or maybe some part of me hoped that he would understand my situation and let me be on way.

  " Haaa, an honest one finally. Listen you're not the first one here that got tricked into signing the Oath, or that changed his mind. The bottom line is whether you like it or not you are part of the Legion, if you flee, it is desertion, if you do not obey an order, it is insubordination and if you get any officer killed in some way, it is mutiny. For any of those crimes you get the Brand. So, I would advise against doing anything rash. As you probably know you will be here for a period of seven years during which we will provide food, shelter, equipment as well as a pay. You will be part of the tenth cohort, sixth century, thirteenth squad, Vicos will show our to your squad and give you your recruit set."

  'It was worth a try' I did not expect my plead to receive a positive answer, but I had to give it a shot and maybe get myself out of this mess. My mood sours a bit, but I show nothing of it.