[Mkguild] Roman story part 7
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Sat Jan 25 05:24:25 UTC 2020
The Armatura looked them over. “You mightnot be legionnaires but at least you look like them! This is YOUR armor. Youare responsible for it. Keep it clean and ready for use. Get used to its weightand feel till it becomes second nature to you. You are to wear it every wakinghour till I decide you are ready to be called a Legionnaire.” They were taken to the field where a halfdozen wooden posts were along one side, spaced several paces apart. Each Tiro was placed in front of a post.Bitt noticed that his was battered and damaged by a long succession of previoustiros practicing. Bitt had his shield in one hand and hisgladius in the other. He held his shield up to ward off imagined blows andhacked at the pole. Left side top, right side top, left side middle. Right sidebottom. Right side middle. Left side bottom. Over and over again he hacked athis wooden opponent while standing in the heat of a summer’s day. After a lot of such practice Bitt stoppedand leaned against the post. He felt weak and suddenly had a headache. Bittcouldn’t stop panting but no matter how hard he panted he never felt anycooler. “Stop slacking off,” Comitus snapped andpoked the fox lightly with his stick. The leopard stepped closer. He examinedBitt for a moment and felt his head. He muttered several curses in an equalnumber of languages. “What fool sends a northern species to the desert.” Comitus pointed to one of the other tiros.“Get this sun stroked fool into the shade.” He pointed to a second. “Get himsome water. Now!” “Bitt has graciously given us a valuablelesson,” the leopard said in an oddly cheerful tone. “Especially for those ofyou from cooler places. Your biggest enemy is going to be the heat. Even thoseof you born here need to be warned. All this armor is metal and it’s going toget hot. You will get used to it with time but always think of the heat. Neverbe without a canteen full of water and refill it at every opportunity.” Someone brought him a large clay cup filledwith water which he drained in a moment. Someone else brought a larger jug andhe drink a good portion of it. Bitt stripped out of his armor and down tojust his tunic. Then he stretched out on the ground in the shade of a tree. Hehad never felt so weak before. How couldsomething as simple as the warmth from the sun bring him down. “This wholeregion is alien,” he thought to himself. “Something else here that can killme.” **************** Bitt was sent to cool off and recover in therelative coolness of his barracks. Vinius found the fox resting on his bunk. Hehad a wet towel draped over his head and next to him was a small jug full ofwater. Feeling better?” Vinius asked. “You almost passedout during training today,” Vinius commented. The fox slowly sat up. “Yes, I’m better,” Bittnodded his head slowly. “I over heated.” Being winter the vulpine’s body was stillworking to the northern rhythm of the seasons and was in winter coat. A nice,thick winter coat. Good for keeping him warm in the bitterly cold winters. But this was the south and it never got coldhere. Their idea of a cold day would count as a warm summer day back home. Hehad brushed it out, removing all the loose fur but he was still hot. “I’m hot!” Bitt said calmly. “I mean reallyhot. Does it ever get cool here?” That got a round of laughs from everyone. “This IS cool,” the Decanus responded. “The fox nodded slowly. “I’m not used tothis heat and I overheated.” The decanus eyed the vulpine carefully.“It’s all that fur. We have an answer to that.” He held up a pair of shears. “What?” Bitt asks nervously. “Cut off all myfur? Are there any other choices?” “Unless you want to die of heat stroke,” thehound responded. “All right. Go ahead,” he said dejectedly. SNIP. SNIP. SNIP. “I’d love a nice snowstorm right now,” thefox commented to no one in particular. “Nice, cold wind and snow. Not too muchsnow. Just about knee deep.” “What’s snow?” Tossius asked and tilted hishead to one side. “What do you mean What’s snow?” The red foxasked incredulously. “How can you not know snow.” “I’ve never seen snow,” the feline answered. “It has never snowed here,” The caninepaused in his clipping and pointed off to the west with the shears. “At leastnot in my lifetime. To see snow you need to go up into the mountains.” “We patrol up there occasionally,” Philippussaid. “But the people there usually stay with their own kind and bother noone.” “That’s a relief,” Bitt said trying not tothink about all of his fur that was being removed. “It seems everyone herehates everyone else.” “Not everyone,” Grattius countered. “Justthe loud ones. Most of us get along nicely.” “What is snow,” Tossius again. This timewith a harder tone. Bitt honestly didn’t know what to say. Snowwas such a normal part of his life. Come October each year it would snow untilthe ground was covered. And it wouldn’t melt until March or April. The trulyhard times were January & February when the cold was the bitterest and snowdeepest. Making hunting difficult. And the food stores started to run low thentoo. That time was called ‘The Starvation time’. An all to appropriate title.He had a hard time imagining a world without it. “Ah. It comes down from thesky like rain.” The lion slowly nodded his head. “I knowrain.” “It rained a full inch last month,” Eteiwiadded with a laugh. “Snow is hard and . . .” the fox gesturedvaguely with his hands. “Lumpy. White and lumpy.” The lion just stared at the fox for amoment. “White and lumpy?” He asked in a voice filled with doubt. "Likecurdled milk?" “Grandma once told me of snow falling in herhome,” the hyena commented. Vinius stepped back. “How’s that feel?” Bitt was still upset over removing his fur.Somehow, he felt naked but he did feel cooler. “Better,” he said. “Let’s try out your armor,” the decanusordered. Bitt kept on his tunic, using it as anundershirt and for added padding to keep the armor from rubbing and chaffing.Over that he put on his chainmail shirt. The clan flower was not visible. Asoft brush of his hand had made it disappear from sight. Like the clans –hidden but still there. For his legs were a set of plane greaves made fromhammered bronze. And then he put on his helmet. Also he had a pair of leathergloves. The fox waited patiently as Vinius walkedaround him inspecting him from nose to tail. “That fits really well,” the hound commented. “Philip found me one just the right size,”Bitt answered. Vinius picked up a small knife. “Let’s getyour name scribed onto your stuff.” Bitt extended his hand. “I can do it.” “You can read and write?” “Both Gaelach and Latine,” the fox explainedas he used the knife to carve his name, century and cohort into the metal ofhis helmet, armor and shield. “Impressive,” the hyena said as he watchedthe fox write. “My parents wanted me to be well educated.”He said without looking up from his scribing. “What are you doing here in the legion andnot a well-paid scribe,” the lion asked. “I don’t want to spend my life sitting in aroom writing,” the fox explained. “Believe me. I tried it and its BORING!” **************** Training. Training and more training. Bitt’sday was filled with it. As newly arrived they were Tiros – recruits. The mornings started at dawn with a runaround the fortress followed lifting and carrying various heavy objects for anhour or two. After that was a formation of the entire century. This formationwas always done either in early morning or late afternoon. When things werecool. Never was it held at mid-day when it was hottest. Only a fool went out attime when things were at their hottest. The centurion would usually read offthe days orders and anything deemed important. After that the tiros were sent off in aseparate group while the rest dispersed to their various assignments. For thetiros the rest of the time was spent at the training ground. For most of theTiros it usually meant chopping at posts using various moves. Slash down ontothe head, slash down onto the legs, stab in the stomach. stab upward into thechest, stab down onto the legs, stab in the stomach. Bash with the shield andthen stab to the chest or stomach. The training seemed extra hard for Bitt. Hehad to unlearn the habits drilled into him by the clan tutors and learn how theLegion wanted him to fight. It meant learning to stand his ground which was sounlike the open flowing style he had learned. It was more than just learning anew style of fighting. It was relearning. It also reminded the fox of one of the reasonswhy he was here. His people were the Ceilteach and famous as individualwarriors. For the Ceilteach it was all about individual warriors showing off inbattle. Battles between tribes and clans usually consisted of large groups ofwarriors all fighting for themselves. There was no cohesion. Battles tended todegenerate into a thousand, little fights as individual warriors on each sidesquared off in one on one duels. One on one a Ceilteach warrior was a matchfor a Latine Legionnaire. But one never fought just one Legionnaire. Theyfought as a group, as a well-trained, highly disciplined, fighting unit. It wasthat discipline that allowed the empire to defeat the Ceilteach again andagain. Often against huge odds. If his people were to survive the empire andthe chaos to come they had to learn to fight like the empire did. It was onelesson his Grandmother didn’t have to teach him. After a few hours each morning with swordand shield they practiced throwing the pilum. The long javelin was as much asymbol of the legion as the gladius. That usually entailed throwing the pilumat an old cow skull that hung from post 50 feet distant. Doing it over and overand over till his arm was sore. The afternoons were spent in a mix of thingsusually all physical. Running around the camp then running longer and longerdistances. Then they progressed to running with a large pack on their back. Andthen it was back to the posts. Hacking and stabbing. It kept all the tiros busy all day and comenight Bitt was too tired to do more than eat the evening meal and sleep. Still with time they all improved. ************* “STOP DANCING!” The trainer snarled. “I keeptelling you to stand still and fight where you are and yet you KEEP DANCINGabout.” “I am trying to gain an advantage,” Bittsnarled. “What’s wrong with that?” “You are part of a whole,” the leopardanswered with undisguised contempt. “You are part of a formation and need tofight like a Legionnaire and not some fool barbarian.” “I’m not in a formation,” the fox countered.“It’s just me!” “I know how to get through to barbarianslike you,” the leopard grumbled. ***************
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