When I entered the commander's tent, he wasn't angry. Arya had lied to me. Manlius was just drinking his morning tea. Something typical of a man his age.
"Good boy," He said. "Your first task as my scribe is to sort through all the letters in my table, stack them orderly into categories as you sit fit"
"That sounds... easy?" I replied. "While I do that, what will you do?"
Manlius just gave me an icy stare. The answer was obvious. He kept drinking tea and kept reading his bible. He was one of those people. Christians, they call themselves, disgusting. Their sect encroached itself to imperial power for centuries until the great pagan restoration stomped them out of power. Their cult might've fractured into competing sects, but their power remained resilient as ever.
I kept looking through the letters, orders, list of supplies, and every single piece of paper that laid on top of the table. It took me a few hours, Manlius was long done with his tea and had gone out to inspect the troops. Through my diligent work, I learned that the legion was composed of around two hundred and thirty effective combatants, not counting me our my retinue. It was a sorry excuse of a number, for legions were meant to be composed of a thousand effective soldiers, even then, the official body count of this legion was around the five hundred as far as the high command was concerned. Desertion, casualties and lack of manpower was an obvious issue in this regiment.
I continued with my daily task until I was done. Manlius had me transcribe his correspondence and I now had to sign all of his correspondence on his behalf. He approved of my efficiency at paperwork and allowed one of my slaves to bring me soup. I was expecting Arya or Mika, but instead, it was just a regular Alemanni slave. Her blue eyes were pretty, but her Germanic accent was a big turnoff.
That day I worked the most I've ever worked in my life. Manlius was happy and sent me home once it was dark. He expected me to be back the following morning at the same hour. Once I went back to my tent, Arya waited for me in the bed. Mika was nowhere to be seen. This night I was hers and hers alone. I fell on top of her, she probably thought I was being horny tonight. But I was so tired that after she kissed me on the neck, I fell asleep on top of her.
"M-meow!?"
The following morning, I woke up ready to go to work. I waited a bit for Arya to wish me well. But she didn't bother to wake up. She was likely to upset about yesterday. I got dressed and went to Manlius, who as always kept reading his bible as I did paperwork. This continued for a few days. I quickly learned to recognize important correspondence from the useless ones. Those of higher status would write intentionally in confusing prose, and soldiers would write briefly and to the point. Orders from high command were always sealed with a stamp made of wax to prevent forgery. I could see why Manlius needed a scribe, I too would be tired if I received virulent letters written by spoiled and affluent people who never had set foot in a military camp. They didn't understand the dire situation in which the empire was, they just demanded results but provided no funds or men. I truly disliked those people too. My grandfather would be ashamed if he were to somehow come back from the dead and see the current status of the legions.
I continued ranting as I went through my boring routine. A week or two passed when suddenly a letter from high command arrived;
"Commander Flavius Manlius Canina, you are hereby ordered to take whatever forces are at your disposal and attack the city of Lyon, you will be reinforced on your way by the garrison of Milan and Marseilles, as you make your way north into Gaul"
We, at last, were going to war. Manlius didn't look as happy as I did. Old men were always afraid of change. Couldn't he see that this was our opportunity to strike back at the barbarians and restore the empire?
"Boy, this is going to be your first war, and trust me, it won't be as pretty as your first kiss." He said, closing his bible and then making a hand movement that seemed as if he was tracing a cross in the air.
"We'll see about that," I whispered. I was ready for this, the perfect opportunity to prove that I, Tiberius, was destined to be a great man.
"I pray to God that we all come back alive," He said. Dismissing me back to my tent, as he prepared himself to mobilize the troops.