Chapter 1: Julius Augustus

I WOKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT ON MY COT, not knowing where I was. Then I remembered. I was in the Seventh Cohort's barracks of the First Legion. My name is Augustus Julius Pontius, leading Centurion for the Seventh Cohort of the First Legion.

I sat up and rubbed my temples. My head throbbed for no apparent reason, maybe because of the stress of the day that stood ahead of me. The duty of Centurion was stressful, to say the absolute least. It was my job to ensure the loyalty of my cohort to Rome, and to ensure its prosperity.

The Legion tattoo on my arm burned, as if it was being seared on my skin once again. I looked at it, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, it wasn't red or blackened as if it was burning. It had a SPQR, Senatus Populusque Romanus, with an eagle holding a Praetor gladius, along with ten vertical lines, indicating years of service, the standard tattoo for a Legionnaire.

I laid back down, waiting for my partner Centurion to call for wake. I thought about the day ahead of me. All Centurions of the cohorts were meant to meet at high noon at the Consulate to discuss the plan for the day with Emperor Caesar Augustus, Consul of Rome.

Finally, not waiting for the call of my accompanying Centurion, I stood up and I decided to call for wake and standard procedure.

"Everyone wake!" I ordered the soldiers of the Seventh Cohort.

Even in the most fatigued of times, all of the Legionnaires' feet hit the cold stone floor before they were fully awake.

My accompanying Centurion came and stood beside me, and nodded a silent Thank you.

I nodded back, doing my best to stand at full attention and emanate an aura of authority. Due to all of the Legionnaires standing at immediate attention, I guessed it worked.

"Loyal soldiers! I call upon you to act upon normal procedure. Marcus and I will be back in a half of an hour to check on the new condition of the barracks! Am I understood?"

"Intellexit!" All of the Legionnaires shouted in unison, which is 'Understood' in Latin.

"Good. Senatus Populusque Romanus!" I shouted which roughly translates to 'The Senate and the People of Rome'. "Ave Romae," which also translates to: 'Hail Rome'.

The soldiers repeated the chant and went to work, remaking cots, sweeping, so, all in all, standard cleaning.

Marcus and I left the barrack so that the Legionnaires could complete their duty.

Also, it was Legion rules, set out by Julius Caesar himself, that a Centurion mustn't be present if their soldiers are completing standard duty. It causes too much distraction.

"Remember when it was us cleaning the Seventh Cohort barracks while the Centurions were out?" Marcus asked me.

"I do," I replied. Marcus in himself was a handsome man, I guess. He was as tall as I, and carried himself in a similar way, as if we both had a pilum sticking down our spine. He had short cropped brown hair, along with striking green eyes.

I am similar but different in appearance. I have black hair that stops just above my eyebrows, and about two inches from my shoulders. I have hazel eyes and a stern set jawbone. I am approximately 6 feet tall, and weigh about 195 pounds.

We both walked to the Legion armory, and walked through the large brass doors. Whenever I saw the armory, it always amazed me, even after ten years of service.

There were twelve columns in total, indicating each cohort. We both walked to the Seventh Cohort's row, and down to the Centurions' shelves. We opened our shelves with a key that was tied around each of our necks.

We fastened each other's breastplates, made out of solid steel. We out on our greaves and gauntlets, and fastened our helmets.

The last thing I grabbed was my gladius and my square shield, with a Roman eagle emblazoned on the face.

On the pommel of my sword, it had a bronze plate saying: SPQR VII, indicating the Seventh Cohort of the First Legion of the Roman Empire. Tied to a small ring on the pommel, there was a purple ribbon with the seventh Roman Numeral: VII.

We walked back outside, fully armed. I specialize in swordplay, especially with my gladius. Marcus, however, specialized in mounted archery, although he did carry a spatha cavalry sword for close-quarter combat.

We still had about five minutes left, so we decided to wait at the Via Praetoria, or building for 'the way of the praetor'. The praetor was currently Caesar Augustus, Consul of Rome. Before him, there was Julius Caesar, and before him, there was the hero Aeneas.

The praetor is a supreme commander of a Legion. He called all the shots, so to speak. The only one who could overrule a Praetor would be the Emperor or Consul. But since Caesar Augustus was all three, he held absolute power.

"We should get back to the barracks, time is up." Marcus suggested.

"Agreed." I replied. We both started walking to the barracks, and even from at least fifty feet away, I could hear the Legionnaires scrambling to clean faster.

When I opened the door, I was shocked.

The barracks were perfect. The cots were perfectly made, the foot lockers organized, no things were shoved under the cots in haste, and all the Legionnaires stood at perfect attention.

When Marcus and I were done inspection, we both stood in the middle of the barracks.

"Impressive, soldiers!" I shouted. "You are all worthy Legionnaires of the great empire of Rome. Ave, Praetor Caesar Augustus! Senatus Populusque Romanus!" I shouted, and the entire cohort repeated the chant.

"We are proud to be the Senior Centurions of this cohort." I stated, and Marcus nodded in agreement.

I hope Marcus was ready for our audience with Caesar, because I wasn't.