Moments later...
Rainer sat on a large rock outside the fort, rapidly slurping up soup from a bowl. It was the meal Hoplite prepared in a rush for him before the march.
To the side, auxiliaries were already marching out of the fort in orderly columns, turning east toward the great mountain range.
At this moment, Hoplite came to him and he reached his hand for the now-empty bowl.
"Thank you, dear."
Rainer said in appreciation, and Hoplite froze, eyes widening in shock.
"De-dear??"
Rainer blinked back, wondering why he would be startled at something so apparent.
"What? You cook well, you smell nice, you look nice. You're definitely endearing."
He listed, matter-of-factly.
Hoplite reddened at those brazen compliments and snatched the bowl away as a nervous energy rolled across him.
He then stood in place, fidgeting with an uncertain expression, while refusing to look him in the eye.
He seemed to have something to say and this made Rainer curious.
"Hopli—"
However, before Rainer could complete his sentence. Hoplite suddenly turned on his heels and fled like a deer hearing a twig snap.
Rainer didn't know what to make of the strange situation, so he simply burped, stood up and stretched.
"Warh!~ That was quite the meal. Oh, shit! I forgot to ask for water. Oh well."
He shrugged and turned to the marching columns.
He was supposed to join the march, but he was waiting for his weapons. Centurio Commius was still searching for suitable armaments, as described by the smirking auxiliary who had told him to wait here.
Soon, however, he got distracted by his hobnailed sandals. They appeared worn from age but were firm regardless. He figured they'd serve a while before he had to find a way to adapt them into boots.
Suddenly, he heard a wagon being pulled towards him and he looked up to find Commius on it.
Though still wrapped in bandages, he had his whole armor on. A new, more protective and prestigious armor set than he had earlier: A centurion's armor.
The wagon pulled aside and stopped before Rainer. Commius jumped down and glanced at him with a malicious smirk before reaching back into the wagon.
With a strained grunt and a bit of physical exertion, he pulled out a round, decorated metal shield, artfully embossed with written symbols.
It fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
*Dum!*
The ground shook from the impact, and it wobbled, rolling toward him before falling flat as Rainer jumped back to prevent it from crushing his toes.
Rainer looked from the thick metal shield to Commius, eyes starkly wide with disbelief.
He bent down to lift it up by the side, the very act proving unbelievably taxing.
Rainer rolled it up to its side with a grunt and looked up at Commius who had a satisfied smile.
"What is this, mate? I told you to do your worst, not bring me a millstone! What? Am I going to become the cohort's baker now?!"
His shitty smile widened and he reached in again to pull out a solid metal shaft, also embossed with written symbols.
At first glance, it looked to be a heavy beam meant for reinforcing large concrete pillars until Commius took out a long, gleaming spear tip with a cup base.
He then proceeded to push it into one of the shaft's flat, round ends—exerting no small effort in doing so.
Commius grimaced and groaned, thick arm muscles bulging as veins pulsed on his forehead.
*Suut*
It soon sank tightly into the metal shaft, fixing like glue.
Satisfied with his work he took it toward Rainer and stabbed it into the ground.
It sank effortlessly.
Rainer remained speechless. He reached for the shaft, and pulled, testing the weight with a wondrous expression.
'Who would make weapons like this? You could probably make ten functional weapons with the bronze used for these two weapons alone! You just need a calculated use of hardwood!'
"Hhmhhm."
He frowned and glanced up at Commius when he heard a low laugh rumbling in his chest.
"What's so funny, eh? I can't fight with these! I mean, look at me! I'm as thin as the Roman standard!"
Commius snickered at that and spoke in his hard, intimidating voice.
"It's a befitting weapon for a god... The sun is near, and the ground is hot, but I guess marching for miles should remain easy for you, godling."
Rainer scoffed, smiling sharply as his expression darkened.
His grip on the spear tightened, and for a moment, he contemplated running him through the gut with it, but he doubted he would be fast enough to actually stab him, given the weight of the spear.
Rainer soon let out a resigned sigh.
"I never said I was a god, you know."
Commius paused at that, then his expression morphed into disdain as he spat on the ground.
"Pathetic! A little hardship and you deny your roots?! Laughable! Lord Praefect puts too much faith in you."
That said, he turned and walked away toward the marching soldiers.
Rainer silently watched him go with an unreadable expression.
His spear suddenly glinted, drawing his attention, and he turned to scrutinize his new arms, both glowing a dull gold under the now scalding sun.
Rainer glanced through the words embossed all over them and frowned lightly.
'Thracian...'
However, he soon shook his head, deciding to ignore it.
He idly reached out and caressed the rough exterior of the spear shaft with a tired expression.
"How am I gonna march with these...?"
He muttered, letting out a wane sigh. But then he caressed his chin, remembering something.
'Hmm. I do know of a breathing technique that helped with endurance. I could also change the arm I use to carry the shield every so often—no, that wouldn't work with my current physique. I need something else...'
He contemplated, turning to the wagon.
Rainer walked toward it to examine its other contents, and when he looked inside, a pleased light flashed across his eyes.
"A rope!"