Early Days (Day 336, 186 C.E.)

It's been almost three weeks now since I first arrived in South-Eastern Caledonia. As to my background, why I came here, and why I took the Roman name Gratus ... I'm sure we will come to all that later.

A jumbled little ghost-town called Corstopitum was my first port of call. The way I hear it, time was this place was under siege by the barbarian hordes which previously had the run of the land in these parts. They barricaded the mines and preyed upon the simple craftsmen and farmers of this city. Those times are long gone; a civil war amongst the heathens of the north soon allowed the Empire to gain the dominance which we currently enjoy in this region, and aside from the occassional barbarian raid targeting defenceless merchants Corstopitum is now a fairly pleasant and safe place to live, presided over by mayor Dorotheus.

Even so, I could somehow still feel the stench of blood and death in the air permeating that settlement, and the truth was I couldn't wait to leave.

I befriended a man named Caracturus who had heard rumour that the cohors I Fida Vardullorum equita (the Vardulli) were accepting new recruits. Their camp was just slightly to the north of the city, a well-placed auxiliary unit attached to the infamous Legio XVII Rapax (predator).

The camp itself was a nice place, situated beside a river and comprising a fort, several workshops, horreas and tents. Across the river were some roundhouses which some of the more senior officers called home, and when we arrived it was all a flurry with the ongoing construction of a new workshop on the detached southern side of the camp crowded with furnaces where the ironwork took place. Only this week was that construction finally completed, and I was involved with crafting tiles and retrieving the necessary limestone from a quarry to the west.

The superior officers I came to know early on included camp prefect Publicola, auxilary immunes Waldemar and auxilary optio Peanas. There were others who were attached to the 17th Legion, which was based a good way to the north-west of the camp closer to Hadrian's wall and beyond that, barbarian territory. There were other new arrivals at the camp; many of them bloodthirsty fools who would do well to survive long in this unforgiving region.

A few days after my arrival, Waldemar and Peanas took me on a 'mine run' to the far west to retrieve iron ore and teach me some of the basics of mining. It was quite a journey, and it took a half a day for us to make the journey there and back. I soon learned that this region was a dangerous place, beset with rogue bandits and vicious wild animals such as wolves and bears. It would be important for me to learn combat and train with others as much as possible back at the camp, given that I had never before so much as lifted a spear in anger.

The conflict with the barbarians to the north is still very much ongoing. It took two weeks before I witnessed my first raid; word coming down from the quarry to the west about a small group of the heathens heading south to Corstopitum. The legion was soon alerted, and I was ordered by my superior to seek safe refuge within the fort, untrained as I was for combat. The raid was over quickly, and I heard tales that all of the barbarians met their deaths at the hands of a fellow named Vlad; who sounds like a fearsome warrior indeed.

Untrained though I may be, a few days afterwards I was invited to join Waldemar in a trip north to accompany a raiding party led by a cavalry prefect named Flaminius of the 33rd, and a veteran named Massala who was primus pilus of the same legion. We attacked two settlements, and the veterans claimed several barbarian lives. There was an incident in the second assault when Massala went against orders in slaughtering a defenceless merchant, before both Flaminius and Massala contrived a plot to lure a farmhand from his hut and slay him mercilessly. I was to the south when this took place; but I heard the casualty report and knew what had transpired.

Are we really so ruthless? Need we be?

I have just returned from a solo mission out to the mines to practise my mining and possibly retrieve some ore. On the way I was set upon by a gang of four bandits. Lucky to escape the attack with my life, I was then easy prey for a hungry wolf. The animal left me for dead, and I lay unconscious in the wilderness in a pool of my own blood for hours, before eventually stumbling onwards to the mines and taking refuge in an abandoned roundhouse where I could nurse my wounds and regain my strength.

This place ... so lawless, so dangerous. The pacifying arm of the Roman Empire seeks to install order, peace and prosperity. But will our presence here in this godforsaken place really change things? And if so, will it be for the better?