Western Land of Frost
The weather was cloudy, the temperature cool, and the humidity wasn't that high. There was a gentle breeze blowing across the plains, that spread far and wide, an expanse of only green grass and pastures across miles. Maximus walked the paved road across the wide plains, a katana hanging from his waist. But he wasn't alone this time, as Roman legionaries marched at the front. Maximus was at the very rear of the column, alongside Zeno and Narses. Another member of the Conterburnium, Varro, was riding a horse close by and trotting at the same pace as the pedestrians. Maximus was walking quietly, as was everyone else, part of military discipline. But he, Zeno, and Narses had some liberty, being at the rear where no centurion watched them. As the shinobi looked around him, he could only see plains and meadows stretching across the horizon, but in the distance were mountains, which would be snow-capped in a few months due to the winter.
As the men marched in the rearguard, they could see the caravans and wagons in front of them, all stuffed to the brim with weapons. These weren't Roman weapons however, these were local katanas, bows, and spears, which was confusing. It was also noticeable to Maximus how between long intervals, riders would peel off from the Roman column whenever a village or town was spotted; they would only return about half an hour later, filling the wagons with more weapons.
"What do you reckon they're doing?" Zeno raised the question, chewing on some grass straw and looking into the distance. He was met with a questioning glance from Maximus,
"What?"
"You know, these riders leave the column for a while, then return after some time with weapons," Narses smirked and tried to taunt the tall man,
"You aren't that ignorant, or even dumb, are you?" Zeno seemed annoyed by this, and eyeing Narses he replied,
"What do you mean by that, shorty?" It didn't have much of an effect on Narses however, the man remained calm. Maximus began to explain from the very back,
"You at least know we've been dispatched to suppress a rebellion right? Well, these men are doing just that. They're going to those mud huts and confiscating any weapons they find."
"That explains it."
There was a brief silence after that, as everyone silently walked on. But it couldn't be quiet for long, everyone was bored, or simply clueless. Zeno questioned again, now somewhat getting on the nerves,
"Where are we going?" Narses now seemed irritated,
"Do you even pay attention to the announcements every day?" However, Varro, who had remained silent all this time, calmed him down. He was a young man in his mid to late twenties, with a light skin tone, a clean-shaven face, curly brown hair, and a lean figure.
"It's okay, Narses. We're heading to the Land of Frost's capital, only in name." Zeno seemed satisfied.
They had been informed of a lot of things and the plans the previous evening in a public announcement. The rebellion, the army led by Janus, and the goal of this incentive. There were only 500, a mere fraction of the total force in the fort. They said it was only a peasant rebellion, just a mass of untrained farmers persuaded by their previously oppressive Daimyo. This wasn't a very good decision on their part, because the leniency the Romans were willing to show before would be gone with the wind.
"Reckon how much we will face?" Maximus spoke to no one in particular, Varro replied with his calm demeanor,
"Probably a few thousand." Narses seemed to note this,
"But we're only five hundred." Varro kept trotting, and without looking at his comrades once he quoted,
"The wolves don't care how many sheep there are."
The Land of Frost's (former) capital
The Daimyo's council chamber was spacious and elegant. White concrete walls, with the lower part made of wood painted blue, there were also fine wooden pillars with carvings at the corners. The "Daimyo" sat in the middle at the other end of the room, while round him along the sides of the chamber sat his 'nobles', 'ministers', the commander of his 'personal guard', and nearest to him, his daughter; a young lady, roughly sixteen years of age with long flowing black hair and brown eyes. The 'Daimyo' was an old man with a frail body, but a stern manner and demeanor. He wore a plain black and white Kimono with his hair tied in a bun.
It was early evening, and the entire 'court' was all but silent. There had been no great tragedy that caused this silence, it was just that they had nothing to do. The nobles simply talked all day long over current affairs, and there was even a little court intrigue, but in the end, this 'Daimyo' and his 'councilors' were little more than figureheads for the Romans; simply doing what they were told. This wasn't humiliating, it was disgraceful, to be of royal birth yet a prisoner in your capital. Such were the thoughts of the Frost Daimyo, as he leaned over his head and recounted his life events. A young ascendancy in his twenties, a short period of peace and prosperity, then the Romans invade. They put up a valiant fight, he and his samurai, yet they lost; not only brave and honorable warriors, but his only son perished in battle as well. He got a warrior's death, but the consequences can never be called heroic.
He won't forget that day when those Roman soldiers, like messengers of doom, marched into his capital and did what they wanted. Nobles being dragged out of their homes and shackled, all the weaponsmiths in the city burned down, the city square plundered, and the statues of his ancestors brought down to rubble; all the while he could do nothing but grit his teeth and look down in shame, with his young daughter gripping to his kimono. The great sovereign of the Land of Frost was now confined in his palace, living off a pension given to him by the very people who took his wealth, his lands, his honor, his birthright.
And he can do nothing but sit on this throne, all that he had left, and watch the doom of his bloodline. The son he lost was his only heir, a true prodigy and great warrior. But now he was dead, rotting in the family mausoleum. There was none except his daughter who could lay claim to his throne, but if he doesn't think there will be any court intrigue for the lady's hand after his corpse is cold, nobody desires to be a mere figurehead of some distant nation governed by commoners chosen by commoners. The Land of Frost will be swiftly integrated into the Roman territories, and his daughter will most probably spend her entire life in house arrest inside a villa. if there was even the slightest chance that he could fight for what was his, regain all that was lost, he would've risen against them. But that wasn't the case, and never will be. The Romans held almost entire sway over the commoners, with their radical ideas of 'reform', 'equality', and 'the rule of the people'. These were preposterous ideas, violating the natural order of things; royal blood rules over the commoners, just as the tiger dominates a flock of sheep. Nevertheless, these ideas had hooked the commoners who were now loyal to their new rulers, and he had to admit, the Romans had developed the region more than he could ever have with all his treasury and artisans from his lands. But even now, the young princess showed some hope and cunning. It was wild speculation, but maybe she could secure her position with wits and steel, just like the queen Tomoe Gozen from the myths and history. But again, it was optimistic speculation, and the daimyo must be prepared to face the bitter truth.
But the Daimyo's long train of thought was interrupted, as a soldier entered the court, he respectfully bowed to the Daimyo and began to speak,
"The Roman army is here, lord. They say the city is required to shelter and feed them, what shall be done?" The Daimyo gave an arrogant, even somewhat angry look, upon hearing this, but replied,
"What is said. Our winter stores should be enough to feed their men, the small garrisons should be able to house them for a few nights." The soldier bowed again and left. The Daimyo gave a deep sigh, and turned his gaze downwards, his face over his hand in a saddened fashion.
"You seem in low spirits, father." His daughter questioned, the Daimyo turned his eyes to meet hers and replied softly,
"It's nothing. I'm merely tired." Saying this, the Daimyo gave another deep sigh and rolled his eyes away. It wasn't as if he could do anything, this was merely a courtesy by the Romans, a formal play.
An hour later
The Roman soldiers had by now properly settled in the garrison quarters of the city, which had remained mostly empty for years after they had obliterated the native soldiers; food provided by the city's inhabitants was also plentiful.
Maximus and the three others sat inside a small chamber made of bricks in the garrison quarters, which were attached to the city walls such that they appeared the same structure. The room was spacious enough, with two bunk beds that together had four beddings, a simple chair, and a mattress. Maximus was sitting at the top of a bunk bed, a book in his hands which he was intently reading. Narses was leisurely sitting on the chair, rocking it back and forth in boredom with his hands behind his head, Varro was sitting in a corner of the room on a mattress, silent and in thought; meanwhile, Zeno was lying in the middle of the floor over his back on a carpet in a leisurely manner, his hands behind his head and his eyes searching the room, while his tall figure seemed to cover almost all the free space between the two bunk beds on either side of the room. It was all quiet, as none spoke anything. The only sounds that came were the creaking of the chair Narses was rocking, and the slight mumbling sound that came from Maximus as he kept reading, the man had the habit of occasionally reading out loud.
Zeno kept turning to and fro on the mattress, having nothing to do. Then he glanced at Maximus over the bunk bed and called him.
"What're you reading?" Maximus didn't look up but replied,
"Something."
"Something what?"
"The Odyssey." Zeno turned his head back to the ceiling, and spoke to no one in particular,
"Hm, my Latin isn't that good to read that." Narses stopped rocking the chair and taunted the big man,
"As if you were gonna read that, it's written in Greek, not Latin." Zeno turned his head to see the man on the chair and replied,
"Shut up, I know Greek." Varro cut between them in a calm voice and a smile on his face,
"Well, it's gonna be an Odyssey when we sail back home from this war-torn shithole." Narses raised an eyebrow,
"When will that be?" Varro hadn't changed his posture at all and simply rolled his eyes up to meet Narses',
"I don't know, perhaps after this rebellion, years, decades, or simply never."
"Hm," Narses replied in a soft voice.
But then, there was loud knocking on the room door, as if someone was banging it with his fists. Zeno seemed irritated and got up to answer. As he opened the door, he spoke to the man there in a voice that showed his irritation at this,
"Geez, can't you just knock normally?" The man ignored the question and pushed Zeno aside to enter the room. He was well-built, with a trimmed beard, a large body, and a slightly chubby face. He looked around the room, finally locking his gaze at Maximus,
"Boy, you're the shinobi here, right? The commander has summoned you for a task." Maximus sighed, put away the book, and jumped down the bunk bed. As we walked aside the man and exited the room, the latter also turned to leave. But before he did so, he informed Narses in a tone that seemed more of a command,
"You, archer, you'd be of help too." Narses stopped rocking the chair with his legs and got up to take his bow and quiver. The man now turned to leave, and as he did so he informed the men without looking back,
"Come quickly. Just to let you know, his patience is not to be tested." Narses Hmped, which now had some anger and irritation in it, but he kept silent, packing his equipment quickly but not hurrying.