Cleonis looked towards the north, with a gloating expression. The humiliation of being defeated by Maximus’s forces was always etched in his heart.
........................
"Brothers, we’re setting off tomorrow morning. Are you all ready?" Stags walked into the tent.
"We’re ready!" the soldiers in the tent responded in unison.
Stags looked at Casaridaoa, who shouted the loudest, and said half-jokingly, half-seriously, "Eh, why are you still here, kid?! Didn’t some soldiers from Italy leave our ranks already?"
"They are them, and I am me; I am quite comfortable here, why should I leave?" Casaridaoa replied impatiently. He had been asked similar questions by several comrades before: "Not only did I stay, but the few brothers who joined our ranks with me also stayed!"
"Captain, do you think these people are foolish? Leader Maximus has said many times that staying in Italy offers no hope and only leads to death. But following our leader, we can secure a piece of land beyond Italy, allowing everyone a share. It’s such a good opportunity, and they don’t want it. What a pity!" A soldier remarked regrettably.
"I think it’s mainly because they haven’t been in our ranks long enough. They haven’t chatted with our leader or heard his stories, so they don’t believe he can achieve it." The centurion Proconsus offered his opinion: "We previously had soldiers from Italy too. I heard that most of them chose to follow the leader north, myself included, of course. Isn’t that right, Captain?"
"That’s right." Stags nodded.
This immediately sparked discussions among the other soldiers, each voicing their opinions, making the tent lively.
Casaridaoa did not participate in the discussion nor intently listen to his comrades; he had chosen to stay simply because after the battle at the Womans River, no one in the ranks looked at him differently anymore. They were comrades who shared hardships, caring for and helping each other, and he enjoyed this atmosphere greatly.
"Ha, why is it so lively in here?!" The tent flap was lifted, and another person came in.
"Great Captain, why are you here?" Stags looked at the newcomer in surprise.
"I’ve been looking for you for a while, didn’t expect you were hiding here in broad daylight." Bubius jokingly scolded.
"Is there something you need?"
Bubius gestured for him to follow outside, with a strong man standing outside the tent.
Bubius pointed to the strong man, saying, "We’ve assigned a new recruit to your unit, oh no, he’s not exactly a new recruit. He joined Free Italy around the same time as you but was initially part of Spartacus’s ranks."
Stags glanced at the strong man and pulled Bubius aside. He whispered a complaint, "Great Captain, my centurion unit is short a few men, why did you only give me one! I heard we transferred thousands from other units this time!"
"Thousands indeed, but the Third Legion takes priority. Besides, some people are willing to head north with our ranks but are unwilling to officially join us." Bubius said bluntly, "I’m already giving you one, which is pretty good. Onomax didn’t get even one for his unit. If you’re unhappy, I can transfer this person to them and you’ll have to ask the leader for reinforcements yourself."
As he spoke, he moved to leave, but Stags quickly held him back, "No, no, Great Captain, that’s my fault. Thank you for looking after our unit, I’ve taken this new recruit."
"I’m telling you, don’t truly treat him like a new recruit. In Spartacus’s ranks, he was also a Centurion like you!" Bubius sternly reminded, "But the leader insists that anyone joining our ranks must start as a new recruit. It’s because of this that some people are reluctant to join our unit. He, however, agreed without hesitation, so you better take good care of him!"
"I understand. Don’t worry." Stags immediately promised, then walked over to the strong man, extending his right hand, "I am Stags, Centurion of the Second Centurion Unit, Second Great Unit, First Legion of Maximus’s Army. Welcome to our ranks!"
"I’m Polikamus, a Thracian, I used to follow Spartacus, and now I’m delighted to be a soldier under Leader Maximus!" the strong man grinned, firmly shaking Stags’s hand.
........................
The next morning, the sky was clear, and the rising sun cast its warmth while the sea breeze blew gently. The climate was pleasant.
While most of the other rebel soldiers were still dreaming, Maximus’s army had already left the camp.
As usual, the First Legion, Second Legion, Supply Camp, and Third Legion each formed their ranks in front of the camp. Then, in an orderly fashion, they set off down the road ahead.
There were no trumpet calls, no clamor of voices, just a quiet and swift march. As in the past, when they served as the vanguard of the entire rebel army, this time, however, there were no other units following, nor any to see them off.
Only a few leaders such as Spartacus, Hamilcar, Antonix, and Attutmus, along with a few elderly gladiators, silently watched them depart amidst the wailing sounds of the sea breeze...
The road taken by Maximus’s army was not the coastal Bobilia Avenue but the Emilia Avenue stretching directly northwest from Rimini to Piacenza. The road was extremely flat, allowing the army to march quickly. By noon, they encountered a river ahead.
This was a small river, no more than 10 meters wide and knee-deep, with gently flowing waters and lush banks, nothing particularly unique compared to other rivers they had crossed.
However, Quintus pointed at the river and remarked with a sigh, "This is the Rubicon River. Crossing it, we’ll enter the Northern Italy Province. Strictly speaking, it’s as if we’ve left Italy."
Maximus reined in his horse and suddenly recalled the famous historical event of crossing the Rubicon River from his past life. After being lost in thought, he suddenly made a throwing gesture, "The die is cast."
"Leader, what did you say?" Quintus didn’t quite catch it.
Maximus smiled, "I said we’re changing history."
"Let’s go, we cross the river!" Maximus, spirited, waved his hand and urged his warhorse to gallop towards the stone bridge not far away.
In this life, it’s uncertain whether the great Caesar will still have his chance to cast his die.
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The Northern Italy Province is the province closest to Rome, encompassing the entire Po River Plain. It is a rather fertile and affluent region.
This area was once predominantly inhabited by powerful Gauls, who grazed horses and sheep, cultivated the land here, and occasionally raided the south, posing multiple threats to the security of the Romans, even briefly capturing Rome more than 200 years ago, becoming a nightmare for the Romans.