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=== Rome; Octobris 137 AD===

The ship bumped against the pier gently and Romulus Tiberius Maxus offered a prayer of thanks to the Gods. “Never again,” he muttered under his breath, though not for the first time. Over the past few years he had been forced to endure several long sea voyages and far from getting used to it, Maxus thought it got worse every time. Still, he did not step off right away; he couldn’t.

Blocking his way were men of his own bodyguard, their breastplates gleaming in the morning sunlight. Julius Sabaco, Prefect of Maxus’ guard stood in the centre, his face full of frustrated anger. “Sir, please, this could well be a trap and you know it! Let us accompany you, I beg you!” His were not the only pair of pleading eyes focused on Maxus but he shook his head firmly.

“And march into Rome with one hundred and fifty armed men? No Julius, we’ve spoken on this matter before. You may choose ten men to accompany us.”

Julius stood there stubbornly, “fifty sir, fifty plain clothes. They’ll make themselves scarce, nobody will notice them!” Maxus gave him a flat stare but for once Julius would not back down, not when his General’s life was at stake.

Finally Maxus relented. It didn’t really matter how many men he took, in all likelihood, he was going to his death, or at best, imprisonment. Those who came with him were likely to suffer the same fate as he. The young General sighed, “Twenty then.”

“Thirty,” Julius countered. Maxus’ face hardened, if it was possible for stone to harden and the look Julius received would have had any lesser man trembling. “Twenty it is, General,” he said quickly in spite of himself.

Maxus waited while the Prefect picked out his men and then strode down the gangplank, glancing back only to say, “The rest of you stay with the ship,” and then, as an afterthought, “have it ready to sail immediately and should anything happen to us, you know what to do.” His men saluted and stood there, watching as he walked down the pier accompanied by twenty of their comrades.

The men Julius had chosen surrounded Maxus protectively and there was nothing casual about their march. They moved as one giant coiled spring, ready to leap in any direction at the smallest provocation. Their faces were almost as hard as Maxus’ and their eyes inspected every crevice as though there were expecting an ambush any moment. As well they might.

It was no wonder that the Prefect cleared his throat nervously when they stopped in front of the gate that led to the city. “Who are you and what... business do you have in Rome?” He asked, trying to sound confident.

“My name is Romulus Tiberius Maxus, and I’ve been summoned by the Emperor.” He held up the piece of paper bearing the Emperor’s seal and the Prefect nodded.

“In you go then.” The Prefect said in an attempt at casualness.

So it was that Tiberius Maxus entered the city of his birth, a city he hadn’t visited in six long years. He allowed himself the luxury of looking around as they walked towards the Imperial Palace, leaving the job of keeping watch to his men. His senses were bombarded in a way that was almost the complete opposite to battle. But then, in some ways, it was the same. Hundreds of different smells wafted through the air and hawkers cried their wares from every store. Here and there were jugglers and storytellers, entertaining the people the crowded the streets. Children ran through the crowds laughing and Maxus breathed it all in. Rome.

All too soon they had left the crowded streets and had arrived at the Imperial Palace. Maxus couldn’t help but feel a little surprise that he had made it this far but then, here lay the final danger. “Wait for me here, Julius” was all he said and he stepped towards the palace, alone.

“General!” Julius cried out and Maxus turned back. For a moment, nothing happened and the guards and Maxus just looked at one another. Without a word, his men saluted him in unison and he returned it and gave a small nod before mounting the steps that led to the entrance.

=== The Meeting With the Emperor, Two Days later ===

"Tiberius Maxus," Lucius Tacitus Vitellius said stiffly. He greeted Romulus Tiberius Maxus in his library, as he had greeted others before him over the past few days. He wasn't sure what to think of Tiberius, since he had never met him before, but he was here now and he needed to get his reign on the move. He couldn't have former soldiers of the rebellious Eastern Roman Empire running freely around the empire, and he certainly wasn't keen on hunting potential assets down to just kill them. He couldn't bring himself to be too friendly as he had with Carus Valens Julianus earlier, but he would be as nice as he could. "Take a seat if you wish, or stand. How was the trip to Rome?"

Tiberius Maxus watched the Emperor, his face, as always, devoid of expression. If he had been a man to let his feelings show, his face would have shown the caution that he felt. He couldn't have refused a summoning by the Imperator but he would have felt a lot more comfortable if he knew what the man intended to do with him. "I'll stand thank you, Imperator." finally a flicker of expression passed over his face as Maxus winced slightly. "The trip was.... no worse than the other times I have travelled by sea."

Tacitus smiled at the sea reference. He travelled between Rome and Hispania so many times he was used to the water heaving ships around, but he knew many others weren't as acclimated to the rolling trips. "You made it though, and I am glad. Did you bring your family?"

Maxus examined the Imperator carefully, unconsciously tilting his head slightly to his right. It was not a very respectful look, but then, it wasn't exactly hostile either. Did the man know? Was he trying to goad him or was it simply an honest mistake? After a few moments, he decided on the latter, the man seemed honest enough for a politician and he couldn’t have had access to the Empire's eyes and ears for all that long. "I don't have a family, Imperator. What family I did have were killed many years ago."

Tacitus's face visibly softened. There was enough death in his own family over the years, and he knew well how it felt. His first wife died in childbirth, and his first child by his second wife died in Hispania during the fighting against Carus Florianus Julianus. He didn't know Tiberius, and for all he knew Tiberius could be gambling on sympathy, but he always gave the benefit of the doubt. He said, "That is terrible... had I known I would not have asked. In that case I'll assume to just get right to the point... What were you in the East, in regards to rank and duty? What have you been doing in Mauretania, and under whose instruction?" Tacitus took a few paces to his left and then turned back to Tiberius, saying, "This isn't an interrogation in the bad sense, soldier. I want to know you, and know what my predecessor has overlooked."

The man truly seemed sorry and Maxus felt a little more at ease. If this man had wanted him dead, he wouldn't have called him here to speak personally where Maxus could attack him. A knife in the dark would have been far easier and if he had wanted to speak to him, he could have done so from behind bars. He nodded, accepting the apology but the man went straight on. He had always appreciated when people got straight to the point and he hadn't expected it from such a prominent politician. "In the East I served directly under both Daratius Antonius Terpus and Augustus Tiberius Varro at one time or another as Proconsular Legate. My duty was to command legions, although I was also made a Senator." He watched Tacitus carefully as he spoke and gauged his reaction. "In Mauretania I have been acting as both a Governor and in Proconsular Legate type capacity to the city of Septem and it’s surrounding area under the instruction of Carus Florianus Julianus. I was to build up the defences of the city and recruit and train a legion."

Tacitus frowned only at the end of what Tiberius was saying. He knew that Florianus was still in technical command of Western operations from when he was fighting for independence the year before, but he didn't know there were magisterial appointments made without notifying either the Senate or Emperor, or without even asking for permission. He sighed and looked right into Tiberius's eyes. "Unfortunately I feel your status as Proconsular Legate doesn't transfer over equally now that the Eastern Empire is nonexistent... I am told you were a Legate before defecting, and in my eyes you're still a Legate. This of course means you are legally a Senator of Rome... It seems you have lucked out in regards to being a rebel," Tacitus smiled briefly, and then began to pace back and forth. "Nobody in Rome even knows you were a Legate before defecting, and so knows not that you defected to the Eastern Empire. This of course is good for me too, since you're bound to be an asset to myself- and Rome- with your experience of command."

Tiberius Maxus blinked, not quite sure he had heard right. An asset? "Of course, Imperator. I no longer use that title." He wanted to say that defect was perhaps too strong a term for what he had done but there was no point arguing. It also appeared that the Imperator’s sources were not all they were rumoured to be. Who had told him that he had been a Legate before the Eastern Rebellion? He had been First Tribune of I Gallicana, not a Legate!

"I admire Florianus' attention to detail in administration, but unfortunately in my opinion Septem needs no governor because there is a Procurator of the province- Marcus Horatius Polybius." Tacitus said. He continued pacing. "I am interested in hearing what you have done in your time there, though. Perhaps I will learn something worthwhile? Then I would like to come to an agreement on what to do with you."

Maxus wasn’t sure he liked what he was hearing but there was no denying an Emperor of Rome. "Various projects sir. I constructed a wall around the perimeter of the city and had the old fort there fixed up. I have also expanded the mining operations for stone and iron and have increased the working of these materials. I’ve expanded the port and taken measures to increase trade and profit. I recruited men from the city and the surrounding region into a legion. Legio II Septem. It came with me when I went to Hispania to assist Valens in putting down the rebellion. From there it came with me, along with Legio IX Classica Hispana to Southern Mauretania where I have been campaigning for the last few months."

Tacitus raised his eyebrows, and nodded as if in thought. He stopped pacing. "So you raised two legions? Standard, imperial style? I am impressed with your infrastructural deeds, as you have laid them out. Septem must be better off since your arrival."

"Well, sir, I have raised two legions in total so far. IV Fortis I raised in the East and II Septem I raised as I have just said." He felt the urge to clench his fists as he spoke of IV Fortis but suppressed it. Just. This was not the man who had ordered them to be butchered in the Colosseum for the amusement of a mob. "Legio IX Classica Hispana was not raised by me personally.

"What strength is II Septem?" Tacitus asked, curious.

“They are currently at about half strength having taken casualties during both campaigns.”

Tacitus looked disappointed, but said, "That is bound to happen, of course." He walked a few steps closer to Tiberius. "I am going to need someone to maintain order in the East, or up in Gothia. Your previous experience in the East has be leaning toward sending you back, but that same experience is what has me thinking you should go to Arx Praeclarus and take up where Proconsular Legate Scipio Sejanus Lupidius will be leaving off... I will be promoting you to Proconsular Legate of the Roman Empire either way... and you will be tasked with raising II Septem to a full legion. I also want you to raise two new legions to join you in your new command. You can raise them from a province of your choosing but I recommend Southern Gallia. Where you and your new legions go, however, is yet to be decided."

A promotion? Now THAT Maxus hadn't been expecting. He looked at the man in front of him, the man who was offering him a chance to restore his honour. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Practical reasons," Tacitus said flatly. He didn't know Maxus well enough to judge him good or bad, but he did know he needed a commander with experience in command. He was pleased with Tiberius's reaction, and it made him grin. "In these times where Rome is on the brink of stagnation or growth, I will need men in command who know what they're doing. I am prepared to take a risk on you, because you wouldn't have been in a position to turn against Rome as you did if some superior hadn't promoted you in the first place, and during the day of Raeus Honestus men weren't promoted without good reason. You're obviously good with leadership." Tacitus quipped quickly, realizing he hadn't said something he was thinking. "I am not without reservations, and I won’t tolerate an abuse of my trust. Unlike the last few Emperors, I will not ignore idle Legates.”

Maxus nodded. "Naturally. Well sir, whether or not you chose to believe it, you can trust me. I will work hard to see that this risk you have taken will pay off.”

Tacitus pressed his lips together, momentarily unsure and aggravated. He did his best to suppress it though, not wanting to get into any sort of confrontation at the moment. "I hope you do work hard. Rome cannot suffer idle Generals.” He took a seat and indicated for the young General to do the same. “Now tell me, how do you feel about Rome pressing further against the Persians?"

***

Outside the Magnus Palatia Tulliae, Julius Sabaco was growing increasingly anxious. He and the men around him had hardly moved since their General had entered the building, over an hour ago and the nervous waiting was taking its toll on the twenty soldiers. Men who usually stood as still as stones shifted their feet in agitation and men who had stood calmly in the face of countless enemy charges were fingering their sword hilts as though they might draw their weapons and charge inside to see what had befallen their commander.

“Damn it! I can’t stand this!” One soldier finally muttered. “He’s been gone for ages, something must have happened!”

“They must have taken him,” agreed another and his eyes swept around, meeting him comrades’ eyes. “One question remains,” he continued grimly, “what are we going to do about it?” As far as he was concerned, there were only two options. “Do we charge in now or do we fetch the others first?”

“I say we go in now, before it’s too late!” The first soldier muttered grimly. “They wouldn’t expect us to try and break him out this quickly and later there’ll be too much security. That’s if he hasn’t already been killed,” he added glumly.

“They couldn’t kill the General!” a young soldier scoffed. He looked too young to belong in a handpicked group of Maxus’ elite guards but those looks were deceiving. He handled the sword at his hip better than any save Maxus himself. “None of them would be able to get near him as long as he had a sword in his hand!” he reasoned.

“Use your head, kid,” a scarred veteran said not unkindly, “even the General can’t stand up to a Palace full of Praetorian Guards on his own.”

“Well I say we get the others and wait for the right moment,” said Julius. “If they’re going to execute him, they’ll do it publically and when they bring him out into the open, we can take him. For that, we’re going to need more than twenty men.”

The rest nodded, respecting the Prefect’s right to make the call. “Perhaps we can get help from Quintus?” the young soldier suggested. “Didn’t the General send him here to become a Senator?”

Julius nodded thoughtfully, “You’re right, and we’ll need a place to hide and store our weapons and armour before our attack.”

They stood there for a few more minutes, watching the Palace entrance, trying to draw their General out by force of will. Finally, Julius spoke again. “Ok, who wants to wait behind to see if he comes out?” Every single man volunteered and Julius smiled sadly before picking out two men. “The rest of us are returning to the docks to get the others. From there we’ll try to find Quintus and when we do, I’ll-” he was cut off by a voice he knew well.

“That won’t be necessary, Julius.” Everyone recognised the voice and immediately snapped to attention, and turned to see Tiberius Maxus standing before them. Some saluted and others just stared at him with a mixture of shock and belief.

“General! You’re...” Julius began.

“Alive? Yes, I’m a little surprised about that myself.” Maxus mused weighing a sheathed sword in his hand. Some of the men laughed at that; their General was never surprised. He wasn’t capable of it.

Julius didn’t laugh though; he just stared at the sword his General held. “Sir...is that? Have you been promoted?” He wasn’t sure, but that sword looked an awful lot like those that were given to a Proconsular Legate when he was given a new command.

Maxus nodded, his face, as always, unreadable. “I have.” With that he stepped forward purposefully and his guard arrayed themselves around him grinning as though they themselves had received a promotion. “We’re going north.”

After seven long years, Maxus was going home.

=== The Next Day, the Residence of Senator Quintus Elvorix ===

Quintus Elvorix looked up from the scroll he was reading in shock. “Sorry, what did you say, Brutus?” he asked.

Brutus repeated himself a little impatiently. “I said that Romulus Tiberius Maxus has arrived to see you. Shall I send him in, Senator?”

“Yes of course, Brutus, straight away!”

The man disappeared and Quintus quickly cleared the room up a little, pushing scrolls under couches and righting an upturned chalice.

“General!” Quintus exclaimed as Tiberius Maxus strode into the room and he saluted instinctively.

“Come now Senator, no need for that!” Maxus said, waving it away with a tiny smile that made his eyes seem less like a winter blizzard and more like a cool winter breeze.

“Please, sit, General, sit!” Quintus said, indicating a couch and lead by example by sinking into one opposite it. “Wine?” he inquired and poured two cups when Maxus nodded as he sat.

“It’s Tiberius to you now, Quintus.” he said, his voice as warm as any heard it. “Thank you.” He said as he accepted the cup of wine Quintus offered him.

Quintus leant back on his couch and took a sip of wine, “I heard a rumour that you were on your way here but I confess I heard nothing more than that. Is it true the Emperor called you here from Africa?” Maxus nodded took a sip of wine himself and sighed in what Quintus had learnt to recognise as appreciation. “Well, you’re still alive which is always good!” he said with a grin, “what did he want?”

“He wanted to give me a new command; in the north. I’ve been promoted to Proconsular Legate and tasked with raising two more legions, Legio XXXIV and Legio XXXV. II Septem has been granted citizenship, along with the rest of the city and they’re to enter Imperial Service under me as Legio XXII.”

Quintus’ jaw dropped, “Well, Gen...Tiberius, I can’t say I expected that!” It was the first time he had ever called the General by name and it sounded strange in his ears.

“Yes well, I confess I was a little surprised myself.” Maxus replied. Quintus quickly raised his wine cup to his mouth to hide his sudden grin. The General was never surprised. It was common belief among the soldiers that the man leading them wasn’t entirely human and all sorts of rumours flew around claiming that he was incapable of feeling pain; that his body was harder than steel; that he didn’t require mundane things such as food or sleep like normal people. Quintus knew that that wasn’t true but he found himself believing some of the others and neither he nor the other officers had ever quashed the more ridiculous rumours. It did the men good to believe that their commander was special in some way; it gave them strength, confidence and gave them all common ground, whatever their background. They all served under the General. Not Romulus Tiberius Maxus, he was just a man and men would only follow a man they had only spoken to a couple of times each so far. The General was...something more.

“Are the men with you then?” Quintus inquired.

“Only the Equites Maxi. I left II Septem in Septem with Artorius and the other legion I’ve been commanding in Africa, IX Classica Hispana, I left in Africa along with Cohors I Gades to make sure the Berbers and any remaining Maure don’t get any ideas.” Maxus explained.

“Any problems down there?” Quintus asked and Maxus shook his head.

“Not really. We destroyed most of their army in an ambush early on so they couldn’t really challenge us in open battle from then on. We just had to root out those damned Berber cavalry.” Quintus nodded, he hadn’t expected any less. “I see you’ve established yourself nicely here.” Maxus continued, indicating the room and furniture. “Not bad, Senator.”

Quintus grinned, “Yes well, the money you’ve paid me combined with my own savings provided quite a nice platform to begin from! I’ve also had some help from Senator Sillius Ramirus Flavus and his frie-”

“Ramirus?” interrupted Maxus. “How is the crafty devil? Haven’t seen him for what? Two years now!” He exclaimed with a tiny smile and an expression as close to fond as he ever got. This was, of course, to say that his face looked like it was made out of wood rather than stone.

“Actually, he’s off to Moesia soon.” Quintus informed Maxus. He had learned to read the General’s tiny expressions and knew that Maxus considered Ramirus a friend. “He’s been promoted too and he’s taking some legions to help Sabaco. About bloody time help was sent over there if you ask me!” He had fallen right into the swing of being a Senator and was already familiar with all the current issues.


“Now tell me, how are the men?” Quintus asked eagerly.

Maxus sighed, “Well, they’re certainly men now, Quintus. Nothing turns a bunch of boys into men better than a couple of campaigns. We lost a few of them, I’m afraid. Some in Hispania and more in Africa. Those that remain are annoyed at being left in Septem; they seemed to want to come with me.”

“Ah well, you’re bound to lose men, Tiberius. You lead men to war and some are bound to die for it.” Quintus said sadly. “And that they wanted to come to Rome doesn’t surprise me at all! It’s not every day you get to visit the centre of the world now is it? Besides, I’m sure it was because they missed me.” He finished with a wolfish grin.

Maxus’ mouth twitched; the equivalent of roaring with laughter for another man. “No doubt, Quintus.” He said in a tone that sounded suspiciously dry. From Maxus, that almost passed as a joke! “Now tell me, Quintus, how you came to be raised to the Senate so quickly!” demanded Maxus, drinking the rest of his wine before refilling his cup.

Quintus smiled and refilled his own cup after Maxus. “Well,” he said, once again leaning back on his couch, “I’ll tell you!”

=== To Mediolanum, Gallia Cisalpina ===

While Maxus and Quintus talked, the men of the Equites Maxi unloaded the ship and moved to Quintus’ house. There was no way that everyone was going to fit comfortably so Maxus rented out an Inn across the street to fit in the excess.

Another ship bound for Septem had left late in the day and Maxus had sent a courier with orders for everyone in Septem. It had taken hours to write it all out and he resolved to get himself a scribe sometime. Orders not only went out to II Septem and IX Classica Hispana, but to officials in Septem, his trainers and the men he had left running his businesses.

The orders for Tribune Artorius were quite simple. He was to bring II Septem to the city of Mediolanum along with the trainers. If Maxus was going to train another two legions, he was going to need some help and when it came to raising new legions, these men were the best of the best.

Tribune Artorius was to leave a garrison of men in Septem, Cohors I Septem, to ensure that the city remained safe. There was no real need for it though, the City Guard kept order in the streets and they numbered enough to man the walls should anything short of an invading army threaten the city and with Mauretania now under Imperial control, where would an invading army come from? Still, the men felt much better knowing their homes were defended and I Septem was in a position to help out Cohors I Gades by patrolling northern Mauretania. The Tribune was also ordered to bring over three thousand slaves along with men from his businesses in Septem. There was work to be done.

Maxus allowed the men a week in Rome but on the eighth day, they left the centre of the world and began the ride north. Prefect Julius Sabaco had come to him that morning and asked if he was to prepare the ship for sail and Maxus had just resisted the urge to spit. “We’re riding.” He had declared firmly.

“But, General,” Julius had protested, “It’s quicker to sail to-”

“I don’t care, we’re riding!” Maxus had snapped, “I’m never going near another bloody boat unless absolutely necessary and this doesn’t count!” he shouted in a very rare loss of temper.

Julius had never been on the receiving end of such an explosion and he had saluted quickly, “Of course, General, I’ll tell the men to saddle up.” He said quickly before almost running out of the room.

Maxus had said never again and he intended to keep that promise as long as he could.

Even one hundred and fifty men needed provisions and Maxus hired a couple of carts to accompany them to Mediolanum. In one of the carts there were three carefully wrapped bundles. Each was long and skinny for almost its entire length until it reached one end where it stuck out to either side. Maxus was very protective of this particular cart, and not just because his money was also being transported on it. The cart drivers scratched their heads every time he came to check on it; they didn’t understand of course. Only a soldier would.

They made good time to Mediolanum and after a week in the saddle, they entered the city and took up residence in the city’s garrison. The men from Septem weren’t due to arrive until Novembris but there was plenty that could be done without them. A few days after arriving, Maxus finally unwrapped two of the three bundles and set the unveiled standards outside the city where they gleamed in the dawn. One read Legio XXXIV and the other, Legio XXXV. The standard bearing the symbols XXII he left until the men from II Septem arrived so that they could be there for the birth of their new Imperial legion.

He sent recruitment parties out over Southern Gallia searching for men who wanted to join the legions and over the weeks thousands poured into Mediolanum to become a legionary. By the time II Septem had arrived, there were men enough to fill the two new legions as well enough to return II Septem to full strength.

As soon as the trainers had arrived, Maxus went to find Tribune Garanus, the old veteran in charge of Maxus’ training unit. An old hand, Garanus had been training legionaries since before Maxus had been born, which he frequently reminded him. Having tired of being sent ‘spoiled little boys’ he had rejoined the legions as a Centurion. He had served as a senior Centurion in Legio VIII Gemani Maecedonia until he had been selected as part of a handpicked team to help raise, train and command Legio IV Fortis.

He was assisted by men like himself along with some of the more senior men who had fled Mogador after it had fallen in the rebellion. This unit of trainers had all trained their fair share of legions over the years, the most recent ones being IV Fortis and II Septem.

“What do you want this time boy?” Garanus demanded as Maxus approached the camp he was overseeing. He always spoke like that but Maxus didn’t really mind, the man had proven his loyalty many times before as well as his usefulness.

“I’ve got two more legions that I want you to train, Garanus; Standard Imperial style. They’ll be known as the XXXIV and the XXXV when you’re done.”

The man groaned and put his head in his hands, “What’s wrong with the men I’ve just trained for you then eh? What do you need new ones for? If you kept out of trouble then you wouldn’t need any more men!” he kept on grumbling like that, asking the occasional question.

“Who’s going to command them then? You had best speak to me before you appoint anyone you hear?”

Maxus sighed, “Quinicus Dacian Varinius for XXXIV and Vespasianus Iudicius for XXXV; Iudicius should come in handy, and you’ll learn why. As for II Septem, which is now called XXII by the way, and I’m promoting Artorius to Legate.”

The grizzled veteran grunted at that. “He’ll do alright I suppose,” he said grudgingly, rubbing his chin. He grumbled a little more and then asked, “Am I training them here?”

Maxus shook his head, “You can start training them here, but once they’re all kitted out with basics, we’re marching them north and you can complete their training there.”

“Well when do we march then?” Garanus demanded.

“In a week, we need to have crossed the Alps before the snows get too deep.” Maxus said patiently.

“Well then, they’ll have to know how to march by then won’t they?” He growled. Suddenly his frown was gone and for a moment he looked almost deferential. “Don’t worry General; these two will be as good as any I’ve ever trained, they’ll do their job and do it well.” With that he saluted and marched away and Maxus could just hear him muttering under his breath, “or I’ll skin the lot of them and...” Maxus just shook his head as the old man passed beyond range of hearing.

The next stop was significantly closer and all Maxus had to do was beckon Julius over.

“Sir?” He inquired.

“I have another job for you too, Julius.” Maxus told the Prefect.

“Name it General.” Julius replied simply.

“Over the next few months, I want you to be on the lookout for men who are worthy of joining the Equites Maxi. I want you to find me the best we have. So long as they’re loyal and you trust them. By Aprilis I want the Equites Maxi to be twice its current size.”

Julius saluted, “It will be done, General.” He promised.

Maxus had no doubt that it would. He had complete faith in the man’s abilities and was sure that the prestige and skill would be no lesser with the arrival of the men chosen for the honour.

The day after his prized legion had arrived, he marched them away from the city to a secluded hill side where they could hear him speak. The men had been overjoyed at seeing their General alive and well after having thought him dead in an Imperial trap and waited eagerly for him to speak, shushing each other until there was silence.

Maxus let silence reign for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before he began. “Men of II Septem,” he began in a carrying voice, “I’ve missed you, and it’s good to see you again!” it was too. When you spent two years of your life in such close quarters with the same men, you were bound to them; especially after a couple of campaigns. The men seemed to agree and roared their approval.

“When I left you, I went to see the new Emperor of Rome, Lucius Tacitus Vitellius. He is a good man and he spoke to me openly. He promoted me to Proconsular Legate and gave me a command in the north.” The men cheered again. They had never heard of this new Emperor, but if their General said he was a good man, then it must be so. Besides, this Tacitus had given the General a promotion!

“At first,” Maxus continued, “The Emperor wanted to split you up. He wanted to divide you into Cohortes because you were not citizens of Rome, and could therefore not be part of a legion.” A few mutters arose at that but Maxus kept going and the men quietened. “However, the Emperor is a reasonable man and after hearing of your feats in Hispania and then again in Africa, he has seen fit to grant the entire city of Septem, including yourselves, with citizenship of the Roman Empire and this way, you will be allowed to stay together, under my command and with a new name, Legio XXII.” There was silence for a moment as they digested this new turn of events but Maxus only gave them a moment before continuing, his voice ringing in their ears.

“The question is will you accept this generous offer? For two years, you have followed where I have led and now, I have re-declared my allegiance to Rome and her Emperor. Will you follow me men?” Maxus’ voice rose to a crescendo, “Will you join me as I fight for Rome once more?”

Maxus almost checked the sky for thunderclouds as his ears were suddenly assaulted by noise as every man roared and beat their shields. “Maxus! Maxus! Maxus!” Many shouted. Others yelled “the XXII and Maxus!” and still others shouted “for Rome and General Maxus!”

The sound continued until the men had yelled themselves hoarse and then, the adrenalin still pumping through their veins, they marched back to Mediolanum, ready to take on the world.


=== Marching in Germania; Decembris ===

Garanus and his staff had done a remarkable job of teaching the soldiers the basics of marching in the short time before they had left but for the first few days he and his staff had ridden up and down the lines lamenting the messy ranks of men as Maxus’ army to be had marched towards the Alps.

It had only lasted a few days and the men soon fell into the steady rhythm of marching as a unit. They had followed the highway north and not for the first time Maxus marvelled at how quickly and army could move using roads. The snow was only a hurdle in the highest reaches, due to the uncharacteristically warm autumn. As usual they host of wagons, merchants, women and all the types that clung to armies on the move. Seeing as only a quarter of Maxus’ men actually had combat experience, it was a good thing that they were marching through friendly territory.

The first winter frosts were just beginning to remain frozen during the day when they arrived at their destination; Arx Praeclarus in Regnum Gothiae. It was well fortified and it was clear that with a bit of attention, Arx Praeclarus could become a large city. The massive fort was already host to a large Gothic settlement, which would act as allies to the new Romans. The city was divided in two by the Saale River that ran down its middle. On one side there was a large area surrounded by a stone wall that would be able to fit two legions. The other side was also walled and this held a town peopled by two Gothic tribes complete with crops and room for livestock. The Arx was constructed largely through personal funds by Proconsular Legate Lucius Titus Vitellius- brother of the new Emperor- before the recent civil wars broke out.

“Set up the camps,” he told Garanus and Artorius. “Two within that walled area and one without. I don’t want them all getting too comfortable so they can rotate.”

“That’s the way,” Garanus growled, “Keep them on their toes I say!”

Maxus looked at his assembled officers, “Well off you go men. You know what to do.” They did too; thank the Gods he didn’t have to train new officers as well!

A command tent had already been prepared for his arrival and he swept inside and sat at his desk. It was less of a tent and more of a modest house, equipped with kitchen and fireplace. Winters this far north were cold. I really do need a scribe, he thought to himself as he dipped his quill into the ink and began writing reports. A messenger needed to be sent to Valens in Colonia Valentia to inform him that he had arrived and he needed to send a report to the Emperor. After that his first job would be to find a decent scribe. Memory tickled him and he thought he knew exactly where he could find one...


Written By: Romulus Tiberius Maxus
Edited By: Ferus Juventas
138 AD