Maximus thought briefly, then ordered Frantinus to assign one of the Centurions to the Personal Guard, while evenly distributing the other three among the three Great Captains.
With this arrangement, Fesaros, Torrelugo, Camillus, and Oros were all quite satisfied.
Thus, Maximus had completed the fundamental restructuring and adjustments of his army.
The central structure of the military was as follows: Military Officer Frantinus, temporarily in charge of five subordinates; Quintus, Chief of Staff, overseeing the staff with over twenty members; Military Judge Sidonius, temporarily assigned a unit of twenty men.
Combat units included: Oluus, Captain of the Personal Guard, commanding 130 soldiers (including 30 veterans from Rocalia); Fesaros, Great Captain of the First Battalion, commanding four Centurions, totaling 400 men; Torrelugo, Great Captain of the Second Battalion, commanding four Centurions, totaling 400 men; Camillus, Great Captain of the Third Battalion, commanding three Centurions, totaling 300 men. The Maximus Army now had a total of 1,230 soldiers, finally surpassing the thousand-man mark.
Additionally, the numbers in the logistics departments had also reached a thousand, with the ratio of combat personnel to non-combat personnel nearing 1:1, a testament to the unique characteristics of this force.
Because some logistics department heads were still stationed at the Vesuvius camp, Maximus only adjusted the combat units for now. Matters regarding logistics would have to wait until all personnel had arrived at Pompeii to convene a meeting for discussion.
............................................................
At dawn, the cries of seagulls stirred Tegcharles from his slumber.
"Theos..." Tegchamos murmured instinctively before rolling over to continue sleeping. Unexpectedly, his hand struck something hard. The pain finally forced him to open his eyes, revealing a narrow and shabby stone hut, rather than his luxurious bedroom at home.
Rubbing his eyes, he crawled up from the rough wooden plank bed and staggered to push open the wooden door. Bright sunlight instantly poured over him. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he looked down at the doorstep. There, as usual, was a wooden plank holding a pottery jar filled with porridge and a piece of bread.
"Still the same stuff!" Tegchamos muttered in dissatisfaction, but the growling from his stomach silenced any complaints. He bent down to pick up the breakfast and was about to bring it back inside when he heard someone nearby say, "Tegchamos, I really admire you. With everything so perilous right now, you still manage to eat and sleep soundly."
"Things have come to this; just take it as it comes. Thinking too much will only scare yourself," Tegchamos said, his eyes darting as he glanced at the tall middle-aged man standing on the opposite side of the corridor. Lowering his voice, he added, "Besides, I don’t believe these slaves will kill us."
"Oh? Why is that?" The tall middle-aged man immediately asked.
"Look, those Slave Soldiers threw many corpses into the sea at dusk two days ago. We saw it ourselves, and you even recognized some as members of the Vidius family. This proves that after occupying Pompeii, these slaves killed many people in the city, including quite a few characters of importance. Compared to them, we are merely insignificant merchants. Killing us would be simple, but instead, they’ve imprisoned us in these lodgings for refugees, assigned guards, and bring us meals every day. This is far more troublesome than just killing us outright. Precisely because of this, I suspect they have a purpose for keeping us alive. Daltemas, you were known for your cunning in Regium; I don’t believe you haven’t realized this."
"Realizing it doesn’t change anything," the middle-aged man named Daltemas said, his face clouded with worry. "Slaves are ignorant and submissive, but once they rise in rebellion, they often become even more brutal and unpredictable. Today, they might plan to keep us alive; tomorrow, they might decide to chop off our heads and use them as wine jugs... Our lives are entirely in their hands, like fish caught from the sea, doomed to be slaughtered at their whim."
"Well, I’m just taking things one day at a time. When those slaves first captured me, I already mentally prepared myself for the worst—to die." Tegchamos spoke indifferently. As his gaze shifted to a tightly shut wooden door nearby, he couldn’t help but ask, "Has Kroxi Bas come out?"
"No," Daltemas replied with a sigh. "Yesterday, he wouldn’t stop lamenting why he couldn’t react faster, or else he could’ve escaped from the port in time and avoided being caught by these slaves. I think he’s driven himself mad with guilt by now."
"Indeed, compared to those who managed to flee the port in time, we are quite unlucky." Tegchamos let out a deep sigh and chose not to dwell on it further to avoid dampening his mood. As he was about to return to his room to enjoy his breakfast slowly, he noticed Daltemas suddenly lean out over the balcony. "What are those slaves up to now?!"
Tegchamos felt a pang of alarm and turned to look outside.
Their residence was a three-story, linear stone building adjacent to the port, originally rented by Pompeii Port officials for dock laborers. Each floor was divided into numerous cramped rooms, with corridors doubling as balconies. The corridor of their quarters faced away from the sea and towards the port’s residential area.
Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m