Camp Vardulli (Day 342, 186 C.E.)

By the grace of the Gods, I made it back to the camp from the mines without being attacked and was pleased to reacquaint myself with some familiar faces. So this is the place that I've been calling home for the past month. Well, home is a bit of a stretch. I don't have my own hut yet; more often than not I sleep in the fort, and Waldemar has been kind enough to give me a little storage space in his roundhouse for personal belongings.

The way I understand it, new recruits have a high mortality rate in these parts so the camp has good reason to be a little choosey when it comes to personal equipment and property.

The main part of the camp is almost fully enclosed by forest to the south and east, and river to the north and west. You can get a decent view from the ramparts of the fort (when it isn't crowded with barley and straw), although as of yet we haven't had to defend it. The barbarians seem to prefer circumventing the fort to the west in order to raid Corstopitum and the defenceless merchants therein.

Away from the camp and through the forest to the south is the smithing area, where more often than not Peanas toils away with his metalwork in the workshops and furnaces. There are times when the camp is buzzing with activity, and times when it is almost deserted. It's hard to say which I prefer.

The fort is where we train combat, and the land to the north-east beside the horreas and workshops is where we plant barley. Dividing my days between fighting and farming ... it's a strange way to live.

Was I right in returning to this land? Only time will tell. But some nights watching the sunset over the river to the west, it's hard to remember a time when I've felt more at home.