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Ave, Legionnaires.
This is when I was first promoted to centurion and was charged with the leadership of a century. The Tribune and I shared a tent for the duration of the campaign.
I opened the flaps to get a breeze and air out the tent. The tribune insisted on maintaining a diet solely consisting of baked fava beans and spices because he was indoctrinated at the war college to fear the locally sourced meats.
Behind, a short embankment built by the strength of Roman craftsmanship, on the other side, a trench 6 feet wide and 6 feet deep.
I always placed my tent closer to the wall so that I would always be near the guard towers to ensure they were disciplined. Legionnaires must be freshly shaven for their duty, no matter what part of watch they had throughout the long night.
I’ll have two fists of pork and a waterskin of posca. I’m feeling nostalgic for the domination of Gaul. And don’t fucking fart again, I’ll carve you from navel to nipple and feed your bones to the hogs.
SPQR
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Wrecked harder than Hannibal at Zama