bignt

  North of the city walls of my small City, Haenna, situated in the eastern part of the New Roman Empire, a rge-scale recruitment was conducted in the Campus Martius.

  Prospective recruits from all walks of life lined up, wanting to join the legions.

  Primarily, there were two recruitment camps, one for the Main Legions and one for the Auxiliary Legions. For those with full citizenship, going to the Main Legion was the goal, and freedmen without citizenship would strive to join the Auxilia, where they could gain citizenship after 25 years of service.

  While my adoptive father didn't really leave me much in terms of wealth, he did give me one thing that I am eternally grateful to him for... Citizenship. Without him, I would only be a freedman, or worse, a sve, as I didn't have legal protection. After all, my mother was a prostitute, and my father was probably one of the many borers who visited her.

  Hence, with this natural advantage, I chose to go to the Main Legion recruitment camp.

  Standing in the long line that formed since before dawn and enduring the cold, I looked at my fellow prospective recruits. Some were shorter, and others were taller. Some were bulkier, and some were slim. I was slightly taller and bulkier than average, likely from my unknown biological father, but just slightly, which I hear is an advantage during recruitment. However, during times of war, it is said that they slightly loosen the requirements.

  Additionally, I brought a letter of recommendation, personally signed by my employer, for a background check and to prove my character and reliability. It was very important, and if you didn't have it, you would get rejected on the spot! Also, soft occupations, such as fishermen, cooks, and entertainers, were ft-out rejected at the door. On the other hand, builders (like myself), bcksmiths, carpenters, farmers, butchers, and hunters were preferred.

  While others were nervous, I wasn't. I had the System's guarantee, so I naturally puffed my chest and straightened my back, eyes bright, eager for my turn. Perhaps due to nervousness, others didn't talk to me, so it was a silent wait before, finally, after the sun rose slightly, it was my turn.

  "Next!" A soldier who maintained the line motioned me to enter the recruitment tent.

  Confidently, I strode forward, only to see three men in armor seated behind tables, evaluating two candidates.

  I knew that these men were likely centurions from the broad-plum-decorated helmets on the table, 80-man commanders, and veterans of the standing army. If I could become one, my life would be VERY good from then on.

  At this time, the remaining Centurion, a rough-looking middle-aged man with a scar on his cheek, motioned me to him, so I walked over and stood about a meter from the table.

  "Name, age, occupation, and Citizenship." The Centurion asked.

  "I am Kyris Damiran Apollox, 18 years old since st winter, and I am a day-wage borer. My adoptive father, Bouwen Damiran Yahr, was a full citizen, so I am also a full citizen." I honestly spoke

  After writing it down, the Centurion spoke.

  "Remove your tunic and show me your body."

  I did as told, knowing it was part of the recruitment process, and got almost naked. The Centurion then looked me up and down, looking for scars or fws, but found none. He even told me to reveal my teeth and gums, turn around, and jump in pce. Finally, he had me dress up.

  "Show me your recommendation letter." He demanded.

  I did as instructed and gave him the letter. After taking it and carefully reading it, the Centurion finally nodded.

  "Okay, you qualify. Now you must take your oath, so repeat after me: I swear to put my life on the line in the service of the New Roman Empire and the Emperor during my term of service of 25 years." He solemnly said.

  I immediately straightened my back and spoke with unwavering determination.

  "I swear to put my life on the line in the service of the New Roman Empire and the Emperor during my term of service of 25 years!"

  "Good enough." The Centurion nodded and handed me a wooden token and three gold coins.

  "I am Lasson Zaxary Aerav, your new Centurion, and you shall call me Sir from now on. Take this to my sigil bearer of the 17th legion. The token is proof, and the coins are your travel expenses and equipment. The sigil bearer will act as your banker, and you can leave the money with him."

  "Thank you, sir!" I saluted and smiled, walking out of the tent with a happy stride.

  .

  .

  .

  But what Apollox didn't know was that, when he left, Aerav looked at the average-looking yet confident young man's back.

  "Barely passable, but he has firm eyes. Or is it blind confidence? Let's see if he can keep that confidence during the hazing." He thought.

  But he didn't dwell on it as he received the next prospective recruit.

  .

  .

  .

  After asking around, I quickly found the 17th Legion's sigil bearer, to whom I entrusted my money. While I could keep it with me, it was safer with him since it could get stolen, and then I wouldn't know where to cry.

  Additionally, I received simple travel clothes and shoes, suitable for the long march. After dressing up, I waited with other prospective recruits. It was also the time when we began to socialize. After all, we would be together for a long time.

  It didn't take long for me to join a clique of several others of a simir background. After all, city rats flock together.

  The tallest and strongest-looking among us was Bouwen, who was half a head taller than me and slightly more muscur, while the other two, Xandr and Erix, were around my size and build, which was among the weakest among the recruits.

  "Why did you join the army?" Xandr, who was the most chatty among us, asked with a smile.

  "Money, obviously. You?" Erix, who looked more nonchant, shrugged

  "I want a chance to elevate my status." Xandr grinned.

  "I want to get the training technique and get stronger." Bouwen roughly said.

  And then, the trio looked at me, expecting an answer.

  "One wants wealth, one wants power, and one wants strength... Well, obviously-"

  "I want to become strong, powerful, and wealthy, enjoy endless glory, get served by beauties day and night, and enjoy my retirement as I delve into magic." I solemnly replied.

  The trio looked at me for a moment before bursting out in wild ughter.

  "Hahahaha!"

  "Yeah! We all want that, don't we?"

  "You're funny, Apollox! I like you!"

  "It's the truth, though..." I mentally thought.

  Just then, my ears picked up a scornful voice full of distaste.

  "Tsk."

  "How noisy."

  "Damn lowborns..."

  "No culture at all."

  Turning my head, I saw a group of stronger-looking young men, looking at us with great distaste, as if looking at a smelly pile of shit. From their height, complexion, and strength, I could tell that they were well-bred, well-trained, and well-fed. Other cliques steered clear of them, obviously wary.

  The other three also noticed them, and they didn't respond to the provocation, giving them a wary look, and spoke in hushed voices.

  "Damn second-generation assholes."

  "Just because you have military parents doesn't make you better..."

  "Silver-spoon bastards..."

  The trio cursed, but didn't dare to speak out loud, and for good reason. Those guys were the sons of legion veterans, enjoying better food and training from a young age, unlike us plebs. They were stronger, healthier, and better-educated than we were, having a better starting line. It was little wonder they looked down on us. In almost every aspect, they were better. Perhaps some of them were already Junior Warriors!

  Luckily, I at least learned not to answer provocations. Honestly, I stood up for that old man(god) in the name of justice. Normally, it was insanely difficult to provoke me into aggression, and I was very disciplined and patient in whatever I did.

  Both groups ignored one another, and around an hour ter, the recruitment officially ended. In the end, 48 got recruited by the 17th, including me. Among them, 12 were second-generation veteran kids.

  Simir things went for the other two groups, belonging to two other legions, with a simir number of recruits. And this was merely a fraction of those who wanted to join, and each was assigned to a different legion, situated close or far.

  Finally, the Centurians exited their respective tents and walked to their Sigil Bearers. The scar-cheeked Aerav looked at us with piercing eyes before motioning to us.

  "Okay, trainees, listen up! We are now marching to our destination, and it will take us two days on foot. If anyone disobeys my orders, they will be subject to corporal punishment. Is that clear?!"

  "Yes!" All of us answered.

  "It's Yes, Sir!" The Centurion scowled.

  "Yes, Sir!" We all repeated.

  "Good." The Centurion nodded, put on his helmet, and motioned to the road. "Recruits of the 17th Legion, MARCH!"

  "Recruits, march!" The sigil-bearer spoke out and followed.

  And so, the long trek began. Luckily, it was on paved Roman roads, and there were towns in between, so it wasn't that bad. At least we got to sleep at an inn(communal) and eat some hot meals.

  Finally, we reached our destination, a rge border fort. It was made of stone and Roman concrete, looking solid and powerful. Manning the walls were legionaries and archers, vigint of everything.

  Finally, after we walked through the gates, we were made to stand in the middle of the fort, where a more expensively decorated centurion stood before us, fnked by five other centurions. I knew at a gnce that he was likely the leader of the cohort, the Pilus Prior.

  After scanning us, finally, the man spoke.

  "Welcome to the 17th Legion's 10th Cohort, recruits!"