“Get up maggot!” I yell at the worthless new recruit. We lost Henson a week back, and command has deemed fit to send us a complete rookie. Usually, I would not be so hard on the boy, after all, I remember how bad my first tour of the front was, but I was exhausted from picking up the slack from being one soldier down and simply did not have the energy to be soft on him. Not to mention that this was the west front. The West was dangerous, and sleeping in the open would get you killed. This was not a job that you could slack on, like guarding the villa of some rich fat guy in Capital or scouting to the east, where the biggest, most dangerous thing was some small bats and beetles. No, sir, this was the west and that meet danger was everywhere.

“Get up!” yell again and kick his feet. Lightly. I don’t want to hurt the kid after all. He groans and stirs, but still does not get up. Squinting up at the light, he rolls back over and covers his head with his hands.

At this point, I am done with his foolishness. What have they been teaching these recruits? This one is hopeless, he will likely be dead in days. No reaction to what could be an attack, sleeping in a dangerous spot, In fact, he is so bad, that he might not even belong. Maybe he is some kid who snuck away to the front with dreams of glory in his older brother’s stolen uniform. I look at the paperwork I had received from the courier a day back. 

Legionnaire Aemilius - Transfer from Academy VI to Contubernium 23 of the Second. Will arrive within the next two days.

I lean down and peer at the bag the man is still sprawled atop. Attached to one of its canvas straps is a small tag, it is cake in dust and faded, but I can faintly make out one word: Aemilius

Stolen story; please report.

I wince. Well, looks like no bureaucratic mistake is saving me this time. I will have to do what I can with this one until I can manage a replacement. I don’t have many connections, but I should be able to pull a few strings and get him reassigned. I briefly consider trying to get him up to standard myself, but ultimately decide against it. It’s simply too risky. Honesty he is going to be a liability as it is.

“Hello?” Aemilius says. I start a little, losing my train of thought.

He is still on the ground. Seriously, does this kid remember anything? He is sitting on the ground, in front of a superior officer, after being awakened in an unsecured location. The least he could do is look ashamed.

“Do you remember proper protocol for sleeping in an unsecured location Legionnaire?” I ask him as he gets to his feet.

He just looks at me blankly.

“Don’t,” I tell him.

“Don’t what?” He asks.

I look at him closer. He seems to have the same slightly confused expression that I must be wearing. A look of realization cross his face, followed by a sort of manic glee. He must have finally remembered some of his lessons at least. The grin is concerning though, it might mean that he is one of the crazies after glory after all.

“Where am I?” the man asks. I look up, confused by the sudden non sequitur.

“Did you hit your head on your way here from Capital?” I ask, the possible answer spring to mind.

“Something like that. I don’t remember much,” he hedges. 

I can tell he is defiantly leaving something out but decide not to press now. I will get the whole story out of him later.

“Pick up your kit”, I tell him, “and follow me.” We head through the cavern, towards the guarded gates of the fort.

“By the way” I inform him as I show the gatewach my insignia, “never sleep in an unprotected location like that again.  You will die. Also, call me Decanus Irene.”