High expectations

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"The mere question, Lord Caesar, offends," I responded firmly. "Mexicanorum will be conquered in your name. All profligates will feel the might of the Legion and hear the crack of whips as I place slave collars around their necks, feeding the war machine of the Legion."

Caesar gave a faint smile at my answer. "Good," he said with a tone of satisfaction. Then he turned to Malpais. "Let's head to the war room. There's much to discuss with the new legate."

With a firm gesture, Caesar rose from his throne, his presence commanding respect in every corner of the hall. Malpais and I followed, our footsteps echoing through the fortress.

We entered the war room, where an enormous map dominated the central table. It showed strategic routes, key cities, and territories that would soon fall under our control. Malpais stood next to Caesar, both focused on the details laid out on the map.

"Two years ago, my legion conquered the territories of the Baudelio Ranchers, a group of profligates dedicated to brahmin herding," Caesar began, his tone firm and measured. "Now, those brahmin feed the growing ranks of the Legion. Those smart enough to understand their fate live on, paying tribute with their livestock. I wanted to continue expanding in that region, but we encountered an obstacle: Tlaloc, a so-called 'god' in Mexicanorum, who protects the locals from external attacks with robots."

At that moment, Caesar directed his gaze to a man who had remained silent until now, standing behind me. I turned slightly to see him. He wore a wolf's head as a helmet, and his presence exuded calculated danger.

"Allow me, Lord Caesar," the man said, stepping forward with a minimal bow. "My frumentarii have confirmed that Tlaloc is… decaying. According to rumors circulating among the people of Mexicanorum, this 'god' is dying, weakening. This opens the way for conquest. The remaining states in the region are fragmented and weak, though a few have managed to repel some raids from Paullus, who's been launching attacks to the south."

"Paullus is still alive? Resilient, indeed," I said, raising an eyebrow, barely hiding my surprise.

"Yes, legate," the man with the wolf's head replied. "But he's been defeated and has resorted to mere raiding. His presence is causing the locals to hate the Legion even before we place those slave collars around their necks."

"What Vulpes says is true," Malpais interjected. "Resistance will vary among the tribes. Some will be easier to subdue than others. Just like Lanius, you'll use the ranchers' territories to organize your advance."

"I only have three cohorts. Will I have access to more legionaries? I would prefer veterans to begin the campaign as soon as possible," I said, looking between Legate Malpais and Caesar.

"Yes, reinforcements will come, but the veterans are reserved for the capture of Hoover Dam. Your forces will be fresh recruits—legionaries who have never tasted defeat or fear," Malpais said with a calm smile, but it was clear that there was a challenge in his words.

I nodded, hiding my dissatisfaction.

"Three cohorts will join you immediately, and we will send reinforcements weekly," Caesar declared, his voice authoritative as he spread his arms in a magnanimous gesture. "Your service will be rewarded, Legatus Gaius. Continue to prove your worth, and this will be the first of many conquests. The first of your glories…" Caesar paused, a barely visible smile curving his lips. "But the mighty Caesar feels generous today. Ask for a reward, and I will grant it to you as a token of my gratitude for your service to the Legion."

"To be allowed the use of modern medicine among my legionaries," I responded almost immediately, suppressing the urge to request permission to use robots. I knew that such a request would be denied and thoroughly investigated by the frumentarii.

Caesar looked at me with a mix of surprise and barely concealed disapproval. A tense silence stretched out, feeling like an eternity as he considered my request. Finally, he spoke, his voice colder than I had anticipated.

"Modern medicine..." he repeated, almost with disdain. "Do you think that's what the Legion needs, Gaius? That the strength of my men comes from drugs and outdated practices that led the world to its ruin?"

His gaze became sharp like a dagger, and suddenly, I felt the walls of the camp closing in around me. "The Legion is not a remnant of that decadent civilization that destroyed itself," Caesar said, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are the spark that will forge the rebirth of the world. Only through sacrifice, suffering, and unwavering discipline will humanity rise from the ashes. And you ask me to weaken that vision with remedies that dull pain?"

I took a deep breath before responding, keeping my voice calm despite the weight of his words. "I understand that what I ask goes against your orders, Lord Caesar. However, I have lost many good men—warriors with dozens, even hundreds of kills to their name. They didn't fall due to a lack of strength or courage, but because healing powders weren't enough, or the slaves didn't know how to treat infections or gangrene. Veteran legionaries, capable of defeating any enemy in their path, could have been saved with a simple stimpack or more effective medicines."

Caesar didn't avert his gaze, but the silence between us widened like a chasm as I awaited his response. I knew that questioning his doctrine, even with the best intentions, was risky. But I couldn't ignore the realities of the battlefield.

Caesar remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his gaze fixed on me, evaluating my every move. Beside me, Vulpes watched with equal intensity, his expression impassive as always, though I knew his thoughts were as sharp as the blades he carried. The air in the tent grew heavier with each passing second.

Caesar finally spoke, his voice low but filled with undeniable authority. "I've already given my word, Legate. You may use the modern medicine you so desire..." He paused, his tone hardening and his gaze growing even more piercing. "But you better deliver a victory soon, or you'll be no different from Paullus. And there will be no room for another failure."

Each word was a clear warning, an ultimatum disguised as a concession. Caesar knew he was crossing a line by allowing me to do something that, in his mind, contradicted the principles of the Legion, but he also understood that the circumstances demanded results.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the exit, not looking back but speaking with a tone colder than steel: "By the way, if you manage to catch him… crucify him immediately."

Caesar walked out with firm steps, visibly angry. The echo of his words lingered in the air.

"Yeesh... you sure know how to sour Caesar's mood," Malpais said with a small grin on his face. "But seriously, if I were you, I'd take the legionaries Caesar assigned you and get out of here before he changes his mind."

"It was necessary," I responded, my tone more serious. "I've lost too many good men—veterans who could've been promoted to centurions—just because their wounds couldn't heal fast enough, or infections spread despite all the healing powder we used... I suppose my time in Flagstaff was shorter than expected."

My eyes drifted toward Vulpes, who was trying to slip away unnoticed. "Vulpes, could I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Legate," Vulpes replied in his usual unflinching tone. "As long as it aligns with Lord Caesar's interests."

"With your extensive knowledge as a frumentarius, what would you recommend as our first strategic move?" I asked, knowing his intelligence would be crucial for any successful advance.

Vulpes remained silent for a few moments, carefully considering his response before finally speaking with calm, calculated precision.

"To the southwest of the territories you'll use as your base, there is a region controlled by drug traffickers. Their government is unstable, and the locals despise them. However, these profligates are well-armed thanks to the money from selling illegal substances. Many of the inhabitants are addicted to all sorts of drugs, which allows these rulers to maintain power. If you strike swiftly and precisely, their regime may collapse quickly."

Vulpes gave a slight nod, as if he already knew I would take his advice seriously. Malpais, still with that faint grin, looked at me as though he knew what I was thinking.

"Then it's settled," I said finally. "We'll prepare for the offensive. If this place is as unstable as you say, Vulpes, it will fall under the Legion's banner in no time."

"May Mars guide your blade, Gaius. And make sure the weapon shipments Caesar requested arrive on time," Malpais said before exiting the room with a firm step.

I watched him leave, and as the door closed behind him, the echo of his words lingered in my mind. I knew Caesar was still angry, and the only way to redeem myself was by bringing swift, decisive victories. If I gave him what he wanted, he would forget about this minor misstep.

With the plan clear in my head, I made my way to the training grounds. The recruits were there—young men with eyes full of devotion, eager to prove their loyalty to Caesar. However, as I looked at them, I couldn't help but frown. They were fanatics, yes, willing to die for the glory of the Legion… but they were poorly equipped. Like so many reinforcements we'd received before, they carried only machetes, wielding them with a fervor that was almost terrifying, as if their devotion alone could make up for their lack of proper arms.

"Fanatics with machetes..." I thought to myself. "I prefer fanatics, yes, but armed with assault rifles, not simple blades. If we're going to win, I need an army that's prepared, not just willing."

Fortunately, I knew how to fix that problem. The Legion's largest weapons factory was under my command, and with a simple order, I could turn those young recruits into proper soldiers. Thousands of assault rifles were ready to be manufactured and distributed among my men—I just needed to expedite the shipments.

I couldn't afford to underestimate my enemies. The profligates to the southwest may have been weakened by addiction and disorganization, but they were well-armed. To crush them, my legionaries needed to be equipped with the best, ready to face any challenge that stood in their way.

I looked up at the young recruits training intensely. "Soon, you will have the weapons you need to fulfill your destiny," I whispered to myself. "And with them, the Legion will march forward like never before."

As the Legion moved toward the starting point of the campaign, I knew there were two essential matters to address before the rivers of blood began to flow. This time, we would be far from the main supply lines, and expanding our logistical routes wasn't just an option—it was an absolute necessity. Connecting our campaign to the rail lines Caesar had ordered to unite Flagstaff with his tributary territories wasn't simply a strategy; it was the key to sustaining our advance without weakening our forces.

However, that alone wouldn't be enough. The other crucial aspect was the production of armored vehicles. Fortunately, it wasn't an insurmountable challenge. We already had access to engines powered by fusion cores, which gave us a technological advantage. We only needed to reinforce those vehicles with sloped layers of steel to improve their resistance against projectiles and other attacks, especially in vulnerable areas.

But I couldn't stop there. It was vital to arm them with something more lethal—a 25mm cannon would provide our vehicles with formidable defense against any resistance we might face on the battlefield. I knew the campaign in Mexico wouldn't be won with the simple numerical superiority the Legion had relied on in the past. Here, quality and innovation would be decisive. And I was determined to ensure that our forces entered combat better prepared than ever.

At the same time, I needed to establish a mobile power armor assembly station, something that could be transported by trucks, so that even while on the move, we could continue improving and repairing the power armor we were developing.

With these plans in motion, the campaign wouldn't just be a series of quick conquests—it would be a proving ground to show that the Legion could adapt, innovate, and dominate with the right technology. We were about to venture into uncharted territory, but with every step I took, I felt that victory was growing closer, forged in steel, sweat, and the unyielding sacrifice of the men under my command.

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