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  Inside a luxurious command structure-

  Tertius Pomponius Fastidius, a well-bred, handsome, and tall man in his mid-30s, wore his fancy, scratchless armor and was reviewing some of the recent reports given to him by the Centurions and Camp Prefect.

  While he didn't micromanage the camp, and he was certainly not a military technician, he was still the supreme commander of the legion! He had duties he needed to fulfill.

  In the early morning, he trained with his high-level breathing technique and precious resources. But while he was already an Elite Warrior, he knew that he would lose to any Veteran Warrior from the legion since his physical conditioning and fighting experience were truly cking. At most, it kept him healthy and offered some ability to defend himself.

  In the morning, he needed to review training progress, supply status, and discipline issues while ordering patrols and construction projects. He might also need to preside in a martial court or a disciplinary hearing.

  In the te morning, he handled politics and administration, meeting the provincial governor, writing reports to New Rome, greeting visitors, and managing finances and supplies.

  In the afternoon, he inspected the exercises, reviewed troops, checked the fortifications and construction, and met senior centurions.

  Even in the evening, he didn't rex, dining with fellow tribunes or visitors, discussing strategy if needed, and pnning patrols or operations.

  So, while he didn't work as hard as the Centurions and Camp Prefect, and much of his work could be repced, he was still important to the long-term function of a legion! Additionally, he was there to project imperial power and prevent rebellion while executing the emperor's orders.

  On the other hand, the tribunes were more akin to apprentices who came for the experience and career. While the thin-stripe ones worked seriously, even competently, they were often corrected by the centurions. As for the thick-stripe tribune... he was his 18-year-old nephew, his sister's son.

  He only came here for a year, being his first step on the Course of Honors that every senator had to walk. He didn't do much, and he didn't expect him to do much. In all regards, he was merely an apprentice who watched him work! If he felt like it, he tried pitching in, but ended up making errors at work, and he needed to correct him. But other times, he felt that this useless nephew of his was just there to be there. Sometimes, he didn't even show up in the afternoon, likely having fun with his concubines.

  Raising his head to gnce at the pompous d, wearing an enchanted Muscle Cuirass and a cloak, looking like a young and handsome hero. Of course, that was all a vain bravado. This nephew of his, Marcus Cluilius Agaptus, who was merely a General Warrior, would probably lose to a Junior Warrior recruit if not for his enchanted armor and weapons.

  However, the legate was in no position to compin about his nephew's antics.

  "To think I was like him at his age... He will likely sober up in five years or so." He briefly thought before returning to the report.

  As he read through the reports, he finally reached the report from the Camp Prefect. After looking at it, his brows furrowed.

  "This winter was a bit harsher beyond the borders, meaning there will be some crop failure and starvation in the nomadic steppes. Large nomadic tribes are expected to raid us from the northeast by mid-spring for food."

  Suddenly, an oppressive air filled the room. While the thin-stripe tribunes had heavy looks, the nephew failed to read the atmosphere.

  "Just some poor nomads with small horses, bows, and pointy sticks. What could they possibly do?" Agaptus sneered.

  Fastidius gave his nephew a sidelong gnce.

  "You should pay more attention to history, Tribune Agaptus. In the past, we lost two whole legions to these poor nomads. If we meet them in the open field, or don't have our own archers and cavalry, it will be a nightmare."

  "Then we just don't fight them in the open. And we also have auxiliaries from conquered tribes, right?" Agaptus lightly said.

  "Think, Tribune Agaptus. If you were a hungry nomad with a speed advantage, would you bother fighting a stationary fort? Or would you bypass them and raid poorly protected but food-rich vilges and towns?" Fastidius rehetorically asked.

  "The vilges and towns?" Agaptus warily asked.

  "Was that a question, or an answer?" Fastidius narrowed his eyes.

  "The vilges and towns. Definitely." Agaptus realised his mistake and spoke more firmly.

  "Good. And now, how do we stop them?" Fastidius asked.

  "We should reinforce the border walls in chokepoints, to prevent them from freely entering. We should also reinforce natural barriers, such as rivers, to prevent their horse-riders from crossing." Agaptus said after some thought.

  "Is that all?" Fastidius asked.

  "I... don't know what else we can do." Agaptus sheepishly said.

  "At least you admitted it." Fastidius sighed and then went to the map, pointing at several marked locations. "We will pce several outposts outside the walls as early warning and prevention, as well as a way to slow the invaders down. There is also the option of intentionally luring them to an area before ambushing them in a pincer. We also need to consider a rge-scale invasion and form contingency pns. However, these things should be discussed with the Centurions and Camp Prefect, and they might have better strategies. Remember, you are only a decision maker and tactical commander, not a real strategist. Leave that to the real professionals."

  "Yes, uncle." Agaptus nodded.

  "It's Legatus. We are in the command room." Fastidius corrected with narrowed eyes.

  "Yes... Legatus." Agaptus defeatedly said.

  Fastidius didn't pay more attention to his nephew. He now had real work to do. It was his first real war, but he had some textbook knowledge on what to do.

  Just then, a soldier entered the room, one of Fastidius's elite bodyguards. He wore better armor than a regur legionary, comparable to a Junior Centurion's, and was a Veteran Warrior.

  While the Legate didn't have a special century under his command, he still had a small elite guard of cavalry to protect him on the battlefield.

  "Auspicious news, Sir!" The bodyguard saluted.

  "Go on." Fastidius looked up, his interest piqued.

  Not many things were worthy of being called Auspicious. He wanted to know what could be auspicious enough to warrant his attention.

  "Reporting. A young legionary hailing from the 1st Cohort has reached the Elite Warrior realm. Congratutions, Sir." The bodyguard smiled.

  "Oh?" The legate's eyes finally lit up, his interest piqued.

  Elite Warriors were a precious commodity, even in the capital, let alone within a Legion. After all, there were only around three dozen Elite Warriors. It was especially so for young and promising ones.

  "Who is he? What is his background? What is his rank?" Fastidius inquired.

  "Reporting! His name is Kyris Damiran Apollox, a 19-year-old borer without heritage from the nearby City of Haena. He joined the legion st spring as a regur legionary, but he proved himself as the best recruit of his batch and joined the 1st Cohort's 5th century. After spending another half a year there, he reached the Elite Warrior Realm this morning, less than ten minutes ago, using only the Legionary Breathing Technique. He is only a regur legionary, but due to exceedingly good performance, he is expected to be promoted soon." The bodyguard expined as concisely as he could.

  This greatly shocked the legate. If someone said a senator's son reached the Elite Realm at 19, he wouldn't be too surprised. At most, he would think they were impressive. However, a regur legionary, without background or training, reaching the Elite Warrior in less than a year was a true achievement worthy of praise.

  He quickly understood what this meant.

  "Genius! Prodigy! Once-in-a-century talent! In every legion, only one such figure appears every century. The st one to appear in this legion is that scary old fart, and he is now an Epic Warrior, and a top-notch one at that due to his training! That means this Apollox kid is an Epic Warrior seed and a future powerhouse. I must pocket him before I leave this backwater legion!"

  Thinking about this, his eyes flickered with greed. However, he soon realized something, his expression turning ugly.

  "Why didn't I hear about him before in my reports?"

  "Reporting! Legionary Apollox was within the reports, but he was never highlighted, so he was overlooked. If his breakthrough didn't cause a commotion, he wouldn't even get noticed." The bodyguard reported with some embarrassment.

  "Fuck! Those conniving old foxes pulled a wool over my head!" Fastidius gnashed his teeth.

  "Legate, let me go recruit him," Agaptus said, his eyes also fshing with greed.

  Although he was an inexperienced dandy, he wasn't stupid. He at least knew the value of such a young, malleable talent. After baiting Apollox out of the military, he could enjoy having a groomed powerhouse at his beck and call. This not only increased his family's prestige but also real power. Since he was only there for a year, he didn't care about the damage he would cause by taking away the talents in the legion. From the start, his intentions were always selfish.

  Fastidius considered this proposal.

  "Having him become my nephew's bodyguard would be a boon in his career, and it takes time to raise an Epic Warrior. Okay, I will give him this chance. At the same time, I can test the attitude of the scary old man. If he rejects my nephew, he will also reject me."

  With that thought in mind, he motioned with his chin.

  "Okay, go. He is likely already in the Camp Prefect's office. Try recruiting him, but don't push hard. And make sure to say I ordered it, or he will dismiss you."

  "Thank you, Legate!" Agaptus smiled and left the room.

  .

  .

  .

  Within Primanus's office-

  Primanus looked at the short and unassuming, but somewhat muscur, young man up and down, his eyes shining.

  "This young man gives me the air of a seasoned Veteran. Not only that, but he is a genius in warrior practice, fighting, and administration. He was born for the army!"

  "Not bad, not bad at all, young man. You are now an Elite Warrior. You even surpassed my record when I was your age." Primanus genuinely smiled, praising without reserve.

  Few deserved his genuine praise, and Apollox was one of them. He also knew how hard Apollox worked, and it was enough to impress him. Even more so when coupled with real achievements. He, as Camp Prefect, was not afraid of talents. He was only afraid of not having any!

  "Thank you for the praise, Sir!" Apollox saluted, chest puffed with a hint of pride and overflowing confidence.

  However, Primanus believed that Apollox deserved this pride and confidence. He earned it with sweat and blood.

  Instead, Primanus spoke with an apologetic look.

  "Becoming an Elite Warrior is a great thing, but unfortunately, that means you are too good to keep within a century... at least, as a regur soldier. Even as a Specialist, Watch Commander, or Decanus(squad leader), your presence itself would disrupt the order within a century. Only if you are an Optio can you barely serve under the most senior centurions. Unfortunately, although I believe you possess all the required qualifications, you ck the merit, meaning I can't promote you. That is why, I am afraid, you can no longer stay within the 5th century. It is not that you are at fault, but that we are unprepared to handle a prodigy like you. I sincerely apologize."

  "I understand, Sir! What are your orders?" Apollox spoke, unsurprised, back straight.

  "Good, he didn't lose his calm. It seems like he guessed that we wouldn't throw him away just because he is too good. If we really did that, we would be unforgivably incompetent idiots." Primanus inwardly nodded.

  "Well, I want you to-"

  Knock* Knock*

  At this moment, there was a sudden knocking on the door.

  Primanus frowned and called out.

  "What is it?"

  The door was opened, and a soldier entered, saluting.

  "Sir, the Senior Tribune is looking for the soldier named Apollox." As he said that, he looked at Apollox.

  "Then let him wait. Once I am done, he can come." Primanus dismissively said.

  "He said that he is under the orders of the legate." The soldier warily said.

  "So that's how they are going to py it, hah? Greedy bastards. Good thing I hid Apollox in the reports until now." Primanus thought.

  "Let the brat in, and see what he has to say," Primanus ordered.

  He then looked at Apollox and noticed the deep frown on his face.

  "Seems like he isn't happy about this, either. Good." Primanus noted.

  After waiting for a minute, the door was opened, and Primanus saw the pompous little bastard enter.

  "Camp Prefect, it is good to see you are in good health." The young tribune fttered.

  However, Primanus knew that this was a hidden remark about his advanced age.

  Squinting at the incompetent bafoon in his office, Primanus asked with what little patience he had, considering that the young and undeserving man was technically his superior.

  "What is it, Senior Tribune?" The Camp Prefect asked.

  "Under the orders of the legate, I am promoting this capable and loyal legionary to be an assistant and bodyguard," Agaptus said with an unquestionable and patronizing tone of authority.

  However, in his bravado and self-confidence, he failed to notice that Apollox had an expression of someone who just smelled a pile of shit. But Primanus noticed it.

  "Interesting. Most would jump on the opportunity, but you at least know that this is the same as blocking your career. Don't worry, kid. He won't ruin you. I won't let him." Primanus smiled slightly.

  And then, very calmly, he looked at the Senior Tribune and spoke with a smile.

  "Apologies to the legate, but Apollox is already my protege. If he wants to sponsor him, he can go ahead."

  The young tribune's face turned pale, not expecting this rejection.

  "You..." He couldn't help but utter.

  Primanus's smile vanished. Only cold, emotionless, murderous eyes remained.

  "You... what?" He spoke with a chilling voice.

  The young tribune immediately lost his anger, doused in the cold killing intent targeting him.

  "You... can have him." Agaptus squeezed these words with much difficulty.

  The chilling air disappeared, and Primanus smiled again, as if nothing happened.

  "I thought as much. Say hi to the legate for me. I won't show you out." Primanus leisurely said, dismissively shooing the Senior Tribune, as if waving off a fly.

  The young tribune felt humiliated, but he still left with a pale face, wanting to get away from this war demon.

  Primanus then looked to Apollox, who had an astonished look and smiled.

  "Well, you don't have objections about being my protege, right?"

  "It is my honor, Sir!" Apollox saluted, almost shouting.

  "Good. Go and arrange your belongings. You're moving to the command building." Primanus instructed.

  "Yes, Sir!" Apollox saluted and exited the room.

  After Apollox left, Primanus couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

  "I like this kid more and more. Finally, after 15 years, a worthy protege."

  And then, as if thinking of something sad, his wrinkly face turned somber.

  "I need to protect him better, or he will end up like my previous protege, leaving only his daughter behind... hah..." Primanus muttered and sighed.

  Burying his emotions, Primanus returned to work.

  .

  .

  .

  Back in the legate's office-

  Fastidius listened to his nephew's useless compints.

  "Legate, he dared contradict your orders, and even threatened me! He should be punished for it!"

  However, Fastidius merely gave his nephew a cold look.

  "Why did he threaten you?" Fastidius emotionlessly asked.

  "I just said, you..." Agaptus expined.

  Fastidius's expression turned even colder.

  "You... what?" He narrowed his eyes, projecting the intimidating air of authority a senator should have.

  "I-I...." Agaptus suddenly shook, not knowing what to say.

  Fastidius sneered. And then, he looked to the junior tribunes, who were looking over, and gave an order.

  "Step out for a break. I need to discuss something with the Senior Tribune."

  "Yes, legate." The tribunes nodded in tacit understanding and left the command room.

  Finally, when the room was empty and the door was closed, Fastidius spoke to his nephew in an ice-cold voice.

  "Never disrespect a Camp Prefect, or any Centurion or soldier, for that matter. You don't want to be written off as dying in action, do you?"

  Agaptus violently shook and stammered.

  "He-He wouldn't dare! That's treason...!"

  "Treason? What treason? If you die on the frontier in the service of New Rome, that is an honor! How could that be treason?" Fastidius rehetorically asked.

  Agaptus turned pale as snow. Perhaps he was young, arrogant, and inexperienced, but he wasn't stupid. He understood what his uncle implied.

  Fastidius approached Agaptus, grabbed him by the shoulders, leaning forward, their eyes mere inches away.

  "My nephew. My dear sister's son. Many fools found themselves without power, or worse, dead, by antagonizing the legion they commanded. You and I might outrank them all, but in the end, they hold ultimate power. And here, a border legion, the Camp Prefect is the uncrowned king, his prestige eclipsing that of the Emperor. Do you understand what I am saying?" Fastidius said, being as clear as he could.

  "Gulp*... yes, uncle." Agaptus dryly swallowed.

  "Do you promise not to antagonize these loyal, hard-working defenders of our empire? The ones who tirelessly sweat and bleed to allow you to enjoy feasting like a pig, drink and gamble like a sloth with your so-called friends, and babymaking with your pretty wife and concubines in leisure at home? Hm?" Fastidius slowly said, his tone even.

  "I-I promise... uncle..." Agaptus said with a bitter face.

  "Good. Now, I am about to open that door, and from that moment on, you will be a role model Senior Tribune who doesn't cause trouble, or I am sending you back home to enjoy a peaceful life, and forget about becoming a Senator. Am I clear?" Fastidius meaningfully said.

  "Yes... uncle..." Agaptus shook, feeling truly scared this time.

  "That's my nephew." Fastidius leaned back, patted Agaptus's cheek twice, and let go.

  "But, uncle... what about that Apollox guy? Do we really give up on him?" Agaptus asked.

  "What did Primanus say?" Fastidius zily asked.

  "He said that we can sponsor him if we want..." Agaptus warily said.

  "Then that is what we will do," Fastidius replied.

  "Just like that?" Agaptus asked, astonished.

  "Sponsoring a poor but promising soldier is far better and cheaper than sponsoring a thriving and battle-hardened Centurion. If we don't sponsor him now, we will miss an opportunity to make a connection with a future powerhouse. Now that he is the Camp Prefect's Protege, he will undoubtedly make it big. This is good for your future career, so make sure to create a good retionship with him. Think of it as an investment." Fastidius expined.

  "I understand, uncle." Agaptus nodded. "What should we sponsor him with?"

  "Nothing too expensive, but something he needs. We will see soon enough." Fastidius said with calcuting eyes.