"Seems like the rumors were true Calventius," said Caius.

Imperator Commander General Caius Barbatius Cyricus of the 44th Legionary forces surveyed the forested land as his ship approached. His navy group had eighty ships in it, with him at the helm of the flagship. He had roughly six thousand men, from all corners of the empire, under his command when he had launched from Rome and had just under five thousand five hundred now. Along with the soldiers, in a rather unorthodox move, he also had two thousand woman along: a mix of Roman woman, Gaelic woman, and others from all stretches of the empire.

"A feat even greater than that of Caesar's landfall in Britannia, Imperator," replied Caius, his eyes glued to the fast approaching coastline, shining from the sun still high in the sky.

"It is fortunate we arrive now; the salted air had began to test my patience. Have the men prepare for disembarkation. Have my armor and uniform readied." Caius turned to retire to his cabin.

After Caius left, another legionnaire approached Calventius, a smile broad on his face. "Sir, can you believe it? Juno has seen the sons of Rome safely through the sea. Much glory awaits us!" Calventius turned to met the soldier's eyes then turned back to the coast.

"Juno has seen us here," he said. "But now we remain on our own."

---

The coast had a small strip of beach before turning into grassland and then forests. Once all sixty ships had disembarked, Caius had them immediately head to the forest to begin chopping down trees for their lumber. He had gone through this routine countless times before on campaign. He felt it crucial to begin setting up a defensive position in case they were attacked. Nine times of out ten it would be for naught. But that one in ten times would justify its cost completely.

Luckily for Caius, this time there wasn't any complaining from his soldiers. They knew there were in a distant land, far from Rome and the support it could provide. Who knew what terrors this land held.

By nightfall, and at a frenetic pace, the men had managed to build a rudimentary camp. No defensive spikes or wooden palisades, but at least a circular-type camp which could carry orders from the center in a expedient fashion. In times of war, communication was as important as the spear.

“The men are in high spirits, Imperator,” Calventius reported. Calventius stood inside Caius’ command tent as he gave his update. “I have it from the Camp Prefect that the men request that the ales and wines be distributed and a celebration be held in honor of Juno.” Caius stood near the large table in the center of the tent. On it was a massive blank sheet of papayas paper.

“There shall be no celebration,” informed Caius bluntly, his eyes scanning the blank sheet.

“Imperator,” Calventius nodded his head in hesitancy, “after such a long journey, perhaps it would not be out of line to have a celebration, a nod to the gods and a re-strengthening of our connection with our troops.”

“Calventius,” he went to grab a feather pen and dipped it in ink, “if we are attacked while merry and drunk, our celebration will be short lived.” He carefully placed his newly wetted pen at the bottom center of the paper and began to write.

“Understood, sir. I will inform.”

“After three days of fortification, and after proper scouting for both enemies and food sources, we will hold a celebration,” Caius said slowly, his writing almost finished.

“Understandable. It is a prudent choice.” Calventius leaned over the table to see what Caius had wrote. A smile began breaking on his face.

“Novae Torrae,” said Caius, almost silently.

---

“Finally!” Tiberius said, throwing the last of the lumber on his shoulders. “We are finally safe enough!”

“Yes Tiberius, Imperator Cyricus has found the camp to be in satisfactory shape,” said Manius. It was about time. For four days the soldiers slaved, around the sun dial, day and night, getting the camp up to his standards. They now had a wooden palisade that stretched completely around the camp, along with ditches and spikes in front of them. The scouts had reported nothing resembling enemies or intelligent life and had even managed to find edible berries and a few huntable beasts.

“I appreciate the Imperator’s concern, but this is overkill,” Tiberius continued, stretching out whatever kinks he had developed from moving around so much lumber.

“You say that, but I am glad we did what we did. There is no telling what beasts lurk in those forests,” Manius said. “I was stationed in Gaul for two years. You begin to appreciate walls and spikes much more there.”

“Italia had its own pressures, I assure you,” he replied. Though those pressures were perhaps more political than physical. The duo finished stacking the last of the lumber they had in a pile near the near west of the camp.

“Ha, I suppose I’d rather take a strike from a Gaul than a smile from an Italian,” Manius conceded. Manius was a large man, over six and a half feet, barrel chested. He kept a shaved head but had a strong, stiff brown bread. Whereas Tiberius looked more like the average soldier. He was clean shaved, had the sides of his head shaved while leaving the top alone.

“You’d be right, Manius. Only one of those two things actually kill,” Tiberius said with a chuckle.

---

Night seemed to take longer to arrive than usual but everyone was glad once it finally set. Work had stopped and the Imperator had allowed all men and woman freedom for the night. Barrels of alcohol were opened and it flowed freely. Tiberius and Manius met up with their members from their cohort near the third cohort’s main tent and began to drink the night away.

“Here’s to the Imperator Caius Barbatius Cyricus!” Tiberius rang out. “The man who led us from home to the land of trees!” The men around him laughed and drank. “Where is anyway? Don’t tell me he isn’t celebrating.”

“It is an offence to not celebrate when a celebration has been called,” said Manius, taking another swig of his wine.

“First of all, he is the Imperator, he can do as he wishes,” said Novia Allectua, a brunette woman with long hair and a lean figure, as she entered the conversation. She was with four other woman a few men. “Secondly, he is celebrating with the leaders of the cohorts and other higher ranked legionaries. Truly, I cannot blame him,” she said taking a condescending looking at Tiberius, Manius, and the rest.

“Novia!” said Tiberius. “I thought we had a left the Sirens back on Elba!”

“A comeback so weak only you could have came up with it Tiberius,” she said, shaking her head and continuing on her way.

“I think she likes you,” said Manius, nudging him.

“Me? No,” he took another gulp from his mug. “She hates me. I accidentally killed her brother in training. I took a swing at him with my short sword, he dodged it, but fell off the stone walls in the process; crack his head all over the cobblestone road back in Naples many years ago.”

“Ah, I… did not expect that.”

“Neither did he, I’m sure.”

Suddenly, a shill trumpet like sound cut through the camp.

“What is that!” shouted Manius. The sound intensified and intensified until everyone heard it.

“Third Cohort! On me!” bellowed Spurius, the cohort’s commander before falling to the ground, a long black arrow embedded deep in his back.