Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1114: Training Ground

"Polus, your performance yesterday was the worst! The rest of us were already fighting the Gauls, and you were still lagging way behind. You dragged down the whole squad's combat record!"

"Ah, let him off. It was his first time on a battlefield. It's normal to be afraid."

"I... I wasn't afraid! My sandal strap broke."

"Nice excuse."

"It really did break!"

"That's still your fault! Military Law clearly states that soldiers must maintain their equipment in camp, and shoes count as equipment. You didn't inspect them properly, so you can't blame anyone else when things go wrong in battle. You're lucky yesterday was an offensive. If we'd been retreating, the enemy would've caught you, and no one could have saved you."

"Hard to say. In a retreat, Polus might just kick off his sandals and outrun us all."

"You—"

"Alright, enough! Aside from falling behind at the start, Polus actually performed quite well in the fight after that. Brothers, think back to our own first time on the battlefield—we weren't much better. So stop complaining about each other. Remember! Our squad is a single unit. Only by helping each other and fighting side by side like blood brothers can we defeat the enemy and make it out alive!"

"Cheers!"

The soldiers cheered and drained their cups. A pretty young waitress quickly hurried over to refill them.

"Suna, have you thought it over?! Marry me! When I retire, come with me to Thurii! It's the greatest city in the world!" one soldier shouted, emboldened by the alcohol.

The other soldiers immediately started hooting and cheering.

The waitress was a bit shy, but having worked in a tavern for so long, she was used to this kind of teasing. "Captain Nicapalos," she said in a sweet voice, "I heard your regulations forbid soldiers from marrying while in service."

Naturally siding with his own men, Nicapalos put on a serious face. "That regulation does exist, but you can get engaged first. In fact, I've heard several families in this district have already betrothed their daughters to soldiers from our camp."

"Right, right, you can get engaged first!" the whole table of soldiers hollered, while the one who had proposed just sat there grinning foolishly.

The waitress didn't panic. Her large eyes darted mischievously before she turned toward the kitchen. "I can't make the decision on something this important. It's up to my father."

The tavern owner, who had been chopping meat in the kitchen while keeping an ear on the dining area, immediately barked in broken Greek, "No!" As soon as he spoke, the thwack of his cleaver against the cutting board grew noticeably louder.

One of the soldiers burst out laughing. "Coradas, it's your own fault for getting drunk last time and grabbing Suna's hand. You offended your future father-in-law."

"When did I ever grab Suna's hand?" Coradas asked, completely bewildered.

"You were drunk, so of course you don't remember. The captain was afraid you'd be thrown in confinement, so he told everyone to keep quiet about it."

Seeing how serious the man sounded, Coradas swept his gaze across all his teammates, including the captain. Catching the "it's absolutely true" expressions on their faces, his heart skipped a beat, and he shot Suna an embarrassed look.

Suna, however, had already ducked back into the kitchen.

"Suna, if this guy dared to bully you, let me teach him a lesson for you!" a man at a neighboring table stood up and shouted. He was a soldier from a different squad.

"This is between me and Suna. It's none of your damn business. Back off!"

"Coradas, everyone says you're the toughest soldier in our detachment, but I'm not afraid of you! Let's have a proper bout right now. Whoever wins gets Suna!"

"Bring it on! Just don't cry when I knock you flat!"

Just as the two soldiers bumped chests and their surrounding comrades started cheering them on, the two squad captains hurriedly shouted them down. "Knock it off, all of you! Do you want to be punished by the military judge?!"

At the mention of the military judge, the soldiers' excitement was instantly doused like a bucket of cold water. Almost every single one of them had suffered his punishments at some point during their year of camp life. They quickly slinked back to their seats and quietly resumed drinking.

Coradas, however, was still a little unwilling to let it go. "Kid, we'll see who's really the toughest at the next company football match!" he grumbled.

"Bring it! Who's afraid of you?!" the other soldier shot back, refusing to back down.

After the minor disturbance settled, the tavern returned to its lively atmosphere of constant laughter and chatter.

After relaxing with drinks, the soldiers would wander the streets of the civilian district to buy daily necessities from the various shops. However, they had to rush back to camp before sunset for the detachment captain's roll call. Anyone who arrived late would inevitably face punishment—cleaning latrines, feeding livestock, boiling water for the bathhouse, or sweeping the streets. All of these were grueling, exhausting chores, so the soldiers generally returned to camp on time.

...

The flat, expansive stone-paved avenue that Maximus was riding along owed more than half of its construction to the soldiers of the Border Legion. Building roads was part of the Border Legion's military training, and over the past year or so, the Legion Commander had set aside quite a bit of time for the soldiers to pave this very route.

Four months ago, the avenue had connected to Florentia. Just last month, another road linked the three military camps, ultimately reaching the port city of Pisae. However, that second avenue—which was easily over ten times longer—had been completed through the cooperative effort of tens of thousands of laborers conscripted by the Etruscan League, working under the direction of engineers dispatched by the Daonian Department of Construction. It was all done to better secure and reinforce the border defenses.

The training ground was not far from the military camp, situated right next to the civilian district. It was a vast, level, and well-maintained expanse of grassland.

Dozens of sturdy wooden posts, each taller than a man, stood along one side of the field. Under the strict supervision and guidance of their officers, the heavy infantrymen wielded long shields and thrusting spears (or short swords), repeatedly practicing their stabs and slashes against the posts. On the other side of the field stood numerous targets where the light infantry practiced with Bows and Arrows and javelins.

In front of the target at the very edge, however, stood a man wearing a helmet with a purple-and-red crest, throwing javelins. He sprinted a few steps, let out a roar, and hurled his weapon with all his might. The javelin soared fifty meters through the air and pierced straight through the thick wooden target.

Behind him stood several other men in senior officer armor, cheering loudly. The surrounding soldiers seemed accustomed to this sight, none of them casting curious glances.

Even without seeing the javelin-thrower's face clearly, Maximus knew it was the Border Legion's Legion Commander, Hasdrubal. This Legion Commander from Carthage always loved taking the field during training to lead by example, which earned him great respect from the soldiers.

Maximus dismounted, adjusted his helmet and breastplate, and strode straight toward the light infantry training grounds.

The armory custodian guarding the piles of javelins and arrows nearby noticed Maximus's arrival and immediately came forward to greet him. "Good morning, Lord Maximus!"

"Was there a heavy toll on our weapons after yesterday's battle?" Maximus asked directly.

"There was hardly any depletion, my lord," the custodian replied. "I heard there weren't many Gauls attacking Florentia yesterday. Our troops arrived just in time while the Gauls were still pillaging the village, so the officers sent the heavy infantry companies straight into the attack. The light infantry wasn't even deployed. The battle ended quickly, and the men's armor and weapons didn't take much damage. So far, no one has requested any replacements."

Maximus nodded. "Any spoils?"

"Two Gallic helmets, five greatswords, fourteen wooden shields, twenty-five spears, nineteen sets of Gallic clothing, and they also captured four Gauls..." The custodian paused before lowering his voice. "The finance officer came by first thing in the morning. He said, 'We have no use for any of this, so I'll take it all and sell it to the merchants.' I told him, 'I can't make that decision; I need your approval first, my lord.'"

Back during the Persia expeditionary force, the mercenaries had a dedicated individual managing finances, and this position had been retained right up until the establishment of the Daunian Alliance. After the kingdom's founding, the legions' logistical support systems became more refined, and since all legion soldiers were kingdom citizens, the individual legions no longer employed a finance officer. All captured spoils were temporarily held by the Supply Camp, and were ultimately handled by a quartermaster dispatched by the Ministry of Military Affairs. They would either summon merchants to auction off the spoils or transfer a portion to the national treasury. The money gained from this was partially used to compensate injured soldiers and the families of the fallen, partially deposited into the Ministry of Military Affairs' coffers, and partially cycled back to the army as rewards for the soldiers' victories.

However, the Border Legion was different. Its soldiers were mercenaries who received monthly pay drawn straight from the national treasury, so a finance officer position had been specifically established and filled by an official from the Ministry of Finance. There had once been a dispute between the Ministry of Military Affairs and the Ministry of Finance over who should handle the Border Legion's spoils. Ultimately, Davos made the final decision: the responsibility fell to the legion's finance officer.

He had done this out of security concerns. After all, the soldiers of the Border Legion were not Daionian Citizens. Entrusting the soldiers' most crucial spoils to Ministry of Finance officials prevented the mercenary legion's affairs from falling entirely under the control of the Ministry of Military Affairs or the Legion Commander.

Managing the spoils of war was originally the duty of a Supply Officer, yet in the Border Legion, it had been assigned to the newly established finance officer. Maximus had some objections to this, but he was only acting as a proxy and wasn't even a Daionian Citizen himself. Thus, he could only bury his dissatisfaction and maintain a relatively harmonious surface relationship with the finance officer.

At this moment, his expression was calm as he replied, "I understand. You did well! Once we head back to the armory and confirm this batch of spoils, you can let the finance officer take them. Just make sure to verify the exact counts and have him sign for them..."