Recruit camp, Cisalpine Gaul — Week 10, day three
The elite group didn't train with the others. Each morning at dawn, they were led to a separate clearing, with no visible officers. There were no shouts. Just brief instructions and demanding tasks.
That morning, the scarred instructor—who still hadn't said his name—stood before them holding a rope and a hard stare.
"Today: coordinated endurance. Three groups of five. Full load. South hill climb. Two laps. One leads. The rest obey. It's not a race. It's unity."
They split in seconds. No protests. No jokes.
Sextus felt Atticus step beside him.
"You leading us, farm boy?"
"No," Sextus replied."Not unless you all believe I should."
Atticus looked at him, grinned with teeth.
"Good. 'Cause if you mess up, I won't be picking up your shadow."
But another recruit, a young-bearded Italic named Veturius, spoke before the silence could stretch.
"Since we've already seen him lead… I say let him do it. If he fails, we'll know soon enough."
Atticus said nothing.But he didn't object either.
The trial began with weight on their backs and mud underfoot. The hill climb was treacherous, lined with stones and hidden roots. Sextus placed himself at the center, setting a low, steady pace.
"Breathe together. If one falls, we all stop."
The first lap went clean. During the second, Veturius stumbled. The group halted without hesitation.
"You hurt?"
"No," he growled, rising.
"Then get in the center. Don't carry weight till your footing's sure. Drusus, swap with him."
Atticus scoffed.
"You gonna reshuffle half the team for a stumble?"
Sextus met his gaze.
"You prefer to carry him when he falls?"
No reply.
By the time they finished the second lap, exhausted and soaked in sweat, they were the first team to complete the task without anyone collapsing fully.
The instructor walked past. He simply said:
"Correct."
And kept walking.
That night, as Sextus collected his ration, Atticus stepped beside him.
"I don't like being ordered around."
"Neither do I," Sextus replied.
Atticus looked at him. Then handed him his piece of hard bread, without another word.
And in the Legion, that was something very close to respect.