Chapter 25: A Pleasant Stroll
Tiberius strolled through the bustling camp, his hands clasped behind his back. At his side, Lucius kept pace with him, a slate held ready to jot down any notes or orders the Legatus might send his way.
His afternoon inspection of the camp was an important part of the day. If asked, Tiberius would explain that it was an opportunity to keep himself abreast of the Legion's day-to-day operations and observe any problems that may otherwise go unnoticed. It also was a good show of leadership. Being seen among the men ensured that he did not become some faceless authority figure, one too far removed from their lives to deserve respect or consideration, aside from what his rank afforded.
All of that was true, of course. But also, it was a perfect excuse to stretch his legs and get some fresh air between meetings and reports and all of the other administrative work that he so often found himself saddled with. Because of that, he safeguarded his "camp inspection" time rather strictly.
As the pair made their way through the rows of tents, noting with approval their precise placements, Tiberius considered his recent conversation with the master blacksmith. He'd found other townspeople to train his men on leatherworking and tanning techniques of this world, though none as experienced in their crafts as the gruff smith seemed. It made him even more grateful that someone of Gareth's talent somehow decided to retire to such a quaint, tiny town. He felt as if he had found a kindred spirit of sorts. Not exactly a peer or equal or anything along those lines. But someone who he could talk to. Someone who had enough life experience to relate to Tiberius himself.
As much as he loved his Legionnaires, he obviously recognized that there remained a distance between he and them—and not just one of rank. Most of his men weren't anywhere close to his own age. In fact, Tiberius had about twenty years on all but a few of his oldest veterans, the ones that had dedicated their lives to a career of soldiering even more than himself.
When properly compared, he supposed they might have approximately equivalent amounts of time on campaign. Yet he had other duties and responsibilities to contend with. Most of his leave ended up filled with senate meetings and even more dangerous work—politics.
Tiberius shook his head ruefully. The only ones with some insight into that part of a Legion were the staff officers, many of whom were young and fresh. Few understood the struggles of getting out of bed when the rain made one's joints ache—especially before a long march. The fact that officers usually rode on mounts made the disparity even more clear. Though that may not be the case for long. Until they'd managed to replace the horses they'd lost in coming to this place, everyone would need to march.
Fortunately, there had been no immediate need to make a quick march across any far distance yet. Though that may change soon.
"Lucius," Tiberius said over his shoulder, "I need to inquire more deeply about the armor styles and capabilities of soldiers in Novara. Have someone ask Gareth or the bard about it."