The Centurio
The camp he spoke of was quite a distance awa, after they walked a while he could hear the voices from afar. Then they entered a clearing, and what they saw surprised him.
A makeshift fortification was just being stumped out of the ground. He could see soldiers, cutting wood and digging trenches to fortify the small tent encampment.
'They are planning to stay here'
Still Plinus did not wait, and made his way to the centre with fast and focused steps. Not to be left alone, Vincent needed to run.
They stopped just before a higher, more decorated tent. Strangely it was left unguarded.
"Come in, Marcius already told me some of it."
A mighty voice bellowed out of the entrance and Plinus could not hide his smile.
"So this is the kid?" Inside the room stood, faced towards the entrance, was a giant of a man. His blond hair was kept short and his dark almost black eyes regarded Vincent with much curiosity. He had the air of a solider, but he was clearly not a Roman from birth.
"Can you show me the book?"
He held his hand towards the veteran. It was lean but muscular, ridden with scars. Despite the many old wounds he did not lack a single finger.
Plinus, without much hesitation, complied. His shoulders were relaxed, and his movement not in a hurry, different than how they arrived.
"Svend, I hope you take mercy on the boy."
He nodded with an absent mind, regarding the old book.
"It should come from further north, maybe the ice wasteland" his voice was quiet and hesitant. "It should be of the metal attribute. I have jet to see something like it."
Plinus smiled, and raised his eyebrows.
"So it is worth quite allot? But you never told me you could read the ancient glyphs."
Svend nodded, then shook his head again.
"I picked up a few on my travels, not enough to translate or understand the whole text."
He gave Vincent a small smile. "Well boy, at least we have on in this room who can, right? Or how else would you have used it." His smile deepened and a heavy air decedent on the room.
Plinus opened his mouth, jet he did not speak.
"I," The feeling was similar to when Vincent first held a press conference. It seemed as if the world halted so it could wait for his reply.
"How, you… Yes, I know how to read the book sir, and I am the one who took the rune."
In the end he spoke fast, almost stumbling over his words. The formless pressure was lifted.
"Perfect, we are here to recruit soldiers and talents. Absolutely no one can complain when I bring back such a gifted sorcerer."
Svend threw the book onto a small desk at the back of the tent. Then, he took out a number of silver coins and gave them to Vincent.
"You don't need to pay me for my own missions. The senate will take care of that."
Plinus gave a military salute, knowing full well what the man in front of him had done.
"Thank you for taking care of the boy. I am in your debt."
Svend only gave the man a curious glance. "Don't act like that, you know who is in who's debt. Now I need to speak with this kid in private."
Only when the old veteran left the room, did the centurio sit himself on the small stool next to his desk.
On it, Vincent noticed, was a map of the surrounding area. He even saw his own small village in the corner.
"I am sure you are hungry, we should eat first and talk then."
As if on cue, a slave arrived and gave both of them a wooden bowl filled with stew. It was his best meal since half a year. Already Vincent had a better opinion on the man in front of him.
"How do you think did I reach the position I am in? After all I am a Nordman, or as Rome likes to call us a 'barbarians'"
Vincent thought back to what he observed.
'The soldiers treat him with respect, although partially begrudgingly. Can it be that he is a mage just like me? Was that how he noticed it? It would also explain the strange pressure.'
"You have power. Power of the kind they can only respect and fear you."
He nodded, his words deliberate and not too loud.
"It is not my place to teach you. I will however show you a few useful tricks so you live long enough to be guided."