The Legion

The remaining trip was tedious. Visiting different villages and taking back the prisoners. Vincent spend his time further refining his control over the simple spell he mastered. Training it over and over again. He also learned to read and write Latin from Svend, for practice he translated the grimuar.

Plinus tried to teach him the skills of a legionary – he was so horrendous, both agreed to stop after a few days.

Sadly, he was still forced to march as the troops made their way through the thick forest.

"A healthy body houses a healthy mind. Don't slag, I am doing it for you."

The old veteran marched through the high snow, not stopping to even take a breath. His perseverance was incredible.

"You know," Vincent took deep breathes as he followed in the trail left by those before him.

"I am still a child, less than half your height. This is no training, it is torture."

The former billionaire cried out in protest. 'I want to be back in my old world, who said being in a fantasy universe was fun. Give me a warm lab and I am happy'

He turned the coin in his hand, letting it wander through his fingers.

A constant flow of magic connected it with his runic centre, the flow kept him at least somehow warm.

And the heavy clothes.

"You could, you know, carry me on my back."

A few chuckles came from around us.

One of the younger soldiers replied.

"Sure we will carry you, your majesty. That is when you are completely exhausted – for that you are talking too vividly."

Vincent wanted to protest. But just as he was about to retort, shouts came from the very front.

"We have arrived, finally."

The camp was huge and so well fortified you could think it was a castle.

High earth walls and trenches protected it from all directions. The thick and obstructing forest had been cut down surrounding the encampment, providing the enemy no cover.

Th inside was not filled with tents, instead stone barracks were stamped out of the ground. Vincent could feel it, magic waves that spread through the whole camp. Brimming with might and order. Not just one powerful man.

Troops patrolled on watchtowers, some cleared snow and others trained.

"We will wait till spring arrive, then the whole army will depart. Until then we will get supplies from the surrounding Germanic tribes."

Svend informed everyone. "As for who will sleep where…"

Vincent would sleep in one of the field beds 'Yeah, more small and crowded spaces to spend my night in. At least not those damn cold tents any more.' He still shivered at the thought. He was lucky he did not catch a cold, it could end deadly for a young child like him. Or maybe it was not so much luck as the still remaining plot armour.

"Is it wise to make a campaign in the winter? I mean our winters are a lot colder than yours."

Although he asked Plinus, it was not he who answered but a skinny black haired youth. His face was freckled, and his presence weak.

"The diseases and the cold are not the problem. We will only move slower and be more valuable to ambushes. Hence the camp."

He did not look like he was unfazed by the cold though. 'How did he even get in the army, I thought the training was inhuman.'

Noticing the doubt Plinus ruffled the young man's hair.

"He is part of the most valuable people in the army. The part of the auxiliary group that handles medicine, as well as a mage."

'Damn, I hardly heard of any mage during the early parts of my life, and here they had an entire group to take care of the field hospital.

How the hell did he not grow up under Roman government. It should not be so difficult to beat some barbarians right?'