"What you said makes sense, but if that’s the case, then we’re in trouble! We’ve been pursued by the Roman Army this whole time. If there are Roman forces ahead blocking us, then... we’ll be surrounded!"
"We’ve been chased by the Roman Army every day like dogs, walking nonstop. We’re exhausted. If it were as you said, it’d actually be great—we could confront the Romans head-on. I’d love to chop off a few Roman heads to make all my training worthwhile."
"You’re all talk. During combat training, you were constantly scolded by the captain for your poor performance. The Roman Army’s soldiers aren’t to be trifled with. If you really faced them, even with a shield, you might not be able to block their sword thrusts."
"Him? He joined late and hasn’t been on the battlefield yet. Forget fighting Romans—if he doesn’t wet himself just standing there, it’d already be a win."
"Y-you don’t underestimate me..."
Casaridaoa pricked up his ears, listening to the soldiers’ teasing banter while tirelessly swinging his small iron hoe, clearing out the robust wheat shoots around him. Both sides of the Womans River were covered in wheat fields. The soldiers’ first task was to clear an open area. Casaridaoa had already lost count of how many fields he’d destroyed along the march and no longer felt guilty about it.
Stags watched the soldiers joking and chatting nearby. As long as it didn’t impact their work progress, he saw no need to intervene. On the contrary, he thought soldiers relieving their stress with some humor helped ease their fatigue and lift their spirits.
His attention, however, frequently landed on Casaridaoa. A slave from Little Asia, Stags held deep disdain for him due to his known history of exploiting other slaves. Despite Stags’ protests, Great Captain Bubius had forced Casaridaoa into his Centurion unit. Stags could only hope this guy would make a grave mistake so he could kick him out. But, surprisingly, throughout the march, Casaridaoa had adhered strictly to military discipline and worked exceptionally hard—far beyond Stags’ expectations.
After watching him work for a while, Stags walked over and nudged Casaridaoa with his foot. "Hey, using an iron hoe to pull weeds is too slow, and it ruins the smoothness of the ground. Try this instead." With that, he pulled out the short sword hanging from his waist and tossed it to Casaridaoa.
Casaridaoa caught the short sword, momentarily stunned. He looked tough, but in reality, he was quite clever. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived years in Sarabia City dodging the slave masters’ wrath.
After joining the rebel army, he was issued supplies and some personal items but not a weapon. While it was true that weapons were scarce in the rebellion, the complete lack of even a wooden weapon for him revealed what the team officers thought of him. Casaridaoa kept these feelings bottled up, vowing to prove himself through his actions.
"After cutting the wheat grass, give that short sword a good sharpening before returning it," Stags reminded him.
"Yes, Captain!" Casaridaoa shouted, his voice filled with excitement.
Over 16,000 soldiers rotated shifts to finally dig trenches and build earthworks.
The exhausted soldiers collapsed onto the ground. Most of their conversations revolved around whether the Supply Camp had enough time to prepare food today and what delicious things might be waiting for them.
Stags approached and said, "I’ve got good news for you. The leader has permitted each team to take turns bathing in the river—"
"That’s great!" The soldiers burst into cheers.
"Additionally, the Supply Camp has requested that those of you who are good swimmers catch some fish in the river. They’ll make fish soup and pan-fried fish to add something tastier to our meals."
"That’s no problem at all!" Many soldiers, especially those with a fishing or sailing background, perked up at the suggestion.
The gently flowing Womans River shimmered under the sea breeze, its surface rippling with silvery waves. Both banks, dense with heavy green wheat, swayed like an emerald ocean. Flocks of herons foraging on the riverbanks were startled and scattered into flight as the soldiers stormed forward.
The men quickly stripped off their clothes and jumped into the river, their rowdy splashes and laughter echoing across the water.
Maximus watched this scene unfold, feeling a fleeting urge to join them in the water. But he quickly suppressed the thought. As the leader of the group, he had to maintain his authority and remain vigilant at all times, ready to give orders, especially under such precarious circumstances.
"The rest of you, go and wash up as well," Maximus said to his attendants.
Receiving his permission, Akegu and some younger men cheered and ran to the river, but Casius, Valles, and a few others stayed behind.
"We can’t all leave. What if you need something, and no one’s here? We’ll wait until Akegu and the others return before we go," Casius explained.
Casius’ response earned Maximus’ silent approval, though he showed no outward reaction. He merely instructed Casius to send someone to fetch water from the river, so he could wash his face and wipe himself clean.
Just then, Acronis and Karina walked over side by side. "Leader, we in the Female Camp would also like to bathe in the river. After marching for so many days, everyone’s gotten filthy, especially the women who are on their cycles..."
The Female Camp had performed admirably during the march, not slowing the group down. Naturally, Maximus wasn’t going to reject their simple request. After a moment’s thought, he replied, "Bathing is fine, but this section of the river is already overrun by the men."
"We’ll go upstream, where it’s quieter," Karina had already thought it through.