Recruit camp, Cisalpine Gaul — Week 10, nightfall
There was no punishment that evening. Just an hour of rest — rare as summer rain.
Sextus sat near the elite group's extinguished fire. Some still stretched their limbs. Others checked their straps, or simply stayed quiet. The silence wasn't awkward. It was custom.
It was Veturius who spoke first.
"What were you before?"
"Farmer," Sextus replied, without looking up.
"Did you own land?"
"Not mine. The landlord's."
"And why did you enlist?"
Sextus shrugged.
"Because I was hungry. And afraid I'd stay that way forever."
Nerva, another from the group, let out a dry laugh.
"Fear. That we've all got."
"I had a workshop," said Veturius. "Shoemaking. My father built it, I kept it running… until they burned it."
"Who?" someone asked.
"The customers. When I stopped giving credit."
Nerva burst out laughing.
"And now you work for Rome for free."
"She's the only customer who pays in bread," Veturius replied.
Sextus gave a slight smile. Atticus, listening from the shadows, spoke without looking at them.
"I was a slave. Freed by pity. Then offered a choice: return to the yoke, or take up the shield."
"And you chose the shield out of pride?" asked Nerva.
"I chose it because I wouldn't kneel again. And if I must die, let it be standing."
Sextus looked up. For the first time, he regarded Atticus with genuine respect.He was no longer a threat.He was a different kind of brother.
"And you, Nerva?" Veturius asked.
"I was born with a sword," he said without arrogance."My father, my grandfather — all soldiers. If I'm not killed, I'll continue the line. And if I am… at least they'll know a Nerva fell with his teeth clenched."
The fire no longer burned. But something invisible lit that circle.
For the first time, Sextus felt like he belonged. Not fully accepted yet, but no longer an outsider.He was no longer the boy from the fields.He was one more among men with broken pasts… and uncertain futures.