Centurion Macro was slowly pacing back and forth behind his desk, both hands clasped behind his back. Vitruvius walked in to see that Tesserarius Flaccus and Sergeant Statorius were in the office as well.
Macro was fairly young for a centurion, being that he was only in his early thirties. War and the life of the legions had done much to age him. What ravaged him the most was that he was one of the few survivors of the Teutoburger Wald disaster; something he never fully recovered from. The traumatic shock of the massacre had caused his jet black hair to gray on the sides and back almost overnight. He was a ruggedly handsome man, though his hands and face bore visible scars from countless adversaries.
Flaccus was perhaps the oldest soldier in the century. His face was gnarled by the effects of age and, perhaps, a little too much wine. A few wisps of grey hair adorned the sides of his head. Vitruvius was bald himself and was quick to chastise the tesserarius for refusing to accept the loss of his hair. Flaccus was a good soldier, although a bit one-dimensional for Vitruvius’ liking. He knew drill and regulations by heart, but he lacked imagination.
“I found someone to succeed me as chief weapons instructor,” Vitruvius announced as he walked in.
Macro grunted as he continued to pace back and forth. Vitruvius looked over at Flaccus, puzzled, and decided it was best to wait. With that, he stood next to the other two men, with his hands clasped behind his back.
At length Macro finally spoke. “The reason I have called you in here is because this affects you all. To start with, Vitruvius, I must first congratulate you. Centurion Justinian of the Third Century has elected to retire after twenty-eight years in the army. The entire chain of command was unanimous in its recommendations that you be selected to succeed him.” He paused to let the words sink in. Vitruvius stood rigid, though in his eyes Macro could see the sense of disbelief. He turned his gaze towards Flaccus and Statorius.
“Flaccus, I have decided that you will replace Vitruvius as optio. I know you only have a handful of years left before your own discharge and retirement, and I feel this is the best way for you to serve out your final years in the army.
“Sergeant Statorius, you will be promoted to tesserarius. I need you to recommend a successor to take over your section.”
Statorius did not hesitate before announcing his recommendation. “Praxus is senior to the other legionaries in my section. He is also the most experienced and one they all look up to.”
“Not Praxus,” Macro replied immediately.
Statorius looked crestfallen. Praxus had committed a grievous error by falling asleep on sentry duty once and had been caught by Centurion Macro. Macro had burned his orders, which at that time would have promoted him to sergeant. He also stripped him of his immune status, which he later reinstated. That had been six years before, and Statorius was hoping that Macro would finally let Praxus advance up the career ladder that he was certain he was meant to take.
Macro saw the concern on the decanus’ face. “Praxus will be moving to take over for Sergeant Sextus, who has also elected to retire from the legions.” Vitruvius smiled when he thought about Praxus commanding the section that he had led before Sextus.
“What about Artorius?” Vitruvius asked.
All eyes fell on him.
“I also recommend that he replace me as chief weapons instructor. I feel that he is ready to take charge of his own section.”
Macro looked over at Statorius. “Sergeant?”
Statorius thought for a second and then nodded. “He’s young, but he is well educated and has demonstrated sound leadership potential. Hell, he and Praxus practically run the section as it is.”
“It’s settled then,” Macro said, slamming his hands down on his desk. “Camillus!”
The century’s signifier strolled in. “No need to shout,” he said in his usual good-natured manner, “I was listening at the door the entire time.” Macro ignored him. “Get me Praxus and Artorius.” Camillus nodded and exited. Vitruvius walked out as Camillus dispatched an orderly to summon the two legionaries. He felt bad in a way. Camillus had been on the promotion fast-track early on in his career, though everything seemed to have stagnated once he made signifier. Technically, he was third in command of the century and should have been the next optio. Vitruvius had passed over both him and Flaccus, having been promoted directly from decanus to optio. And now Flaccus would pass up the signifier as well.
It was impossible to gauge Camillus’ age. He possessed a boyish, almost cherub face that perpetually made him look like he was still a young boy; though he was certainly much older. Vitruvius figured the signifier had never shaved a day in his life. Camillus’ face was always more filled out during the winter months, making him look even younger. It was an odd thing, the way his weight would drastically fluctuate throughout the year. During the campaign season’s warm months, he would be lean and fit from the countless miles of marching while carrying the century’s signum. During the winter, he put on what he referred to as his ‘protective coat’ of fat from inactivity and too many hearty meals.
“So, Centurion Vitruvius, is it?” Camillus asked with a sincere smile.
“Not yet,” Vitruvius replied. “Though I have to say I feel kind of bad for you. This is the second time you’ve been passed over for optio.”
Camillus waved his hand dismissively. “Vitruvius, you’ve got to remember, I’m a lot younger than you and Flaccus. The only reason I made signifier as fast as I did was because, at the time, the century was in a crunch, and it seemed like none of you jackals knew basic mathematics. I got my rank because they needed somebody to do the payroll, that’s all. Besides, I have a pretty comfortable billet here! An optio’s pay is only marginally higher than mine, and the duties and responsibilities are nightmarishly more complex. If I can tell you a secret, I’m the one who told Macro to put Flaccus in your spot. I’m holding out for a cohort standard bearer position or perhaps even aquilifer someday.” The position he referred to was that of the man who carried the legion’s eagle standard into battle. He was also the senior secretary and treasurer of the legion, whose rank and pay was equal to that of a centurion primus ordo.
“Still, you shouldn’t sell short your own leadership abilities,” Vitruvius countered. “The younger guys look up to you. They respect you because your demeanor is so relaxed, and yet you still have a sense of valor and command presence that I don’t think you realize.”
Camillus shrugged at that. “I only let it come out when I’m in a bad spot. You know they gave me the Silver Torque for Valor at Idistaviso for protecting the standard.”
Vitruvius gave a slight chuckle at the memory. “I remember. You stabbed a barbarian with the signum and then planted it in his chest!” “Yeah, and I couldn’t get the damn thing unstuck! I had to fight off a swarm of those bastards to keep them from getting their hands on it. I was scared to death because I knew if I let them carry off the standard, Macro would have had my balls!”
The rest of the section watched as Statorius and Praxus packed all of their personal belongings and gear and as Artorius moved to Statorius’ bunk. The decanus had a slightly larger living space than the legionaries and Artorius intended to take full advantage of this. Praxus would move to a similar bunk in Sergeant Sextus’ section, one block of rooms over, the former decanus having already moved to a billet in the First Cohort while waiting for his retirement papers to come through. Sergeant Statorius would get his own quarters at the end of the barracks, next to those of the signifier and the optio.
As Statorius walked out with the last of his belongings, he stuck his hand out, which Artorius readily accepted.
“Take care of these men,” the sergeant said. “They served me well, and I know they’ll do the same for you.”