“Wait, so, our job is literally to sit here and do nothing?”

“Pardon, friend. Please, slow your words.” That was Gaius.

It had been a bit now, and though we aren’t friendly exactly we manage to communicate a bit, which was, if I’ll be honest, more than I had with anyone else. The others stared by, typically more reserved. Some stared in awe, some stared in suspicion, but few attempted to approach. Only Gauis made an attempt to understand me, though he wasn’t always successful.

I took a breath, and then consulted my AI again. “Our job. To. Sit. Do very little.” I said in broken latin. Speaking like this was frustrating, to say the least. I couldn’t manage more than a few broken, short phrases or words.

My fellow guardsman grinned. “Exactly so! Our post is not called best in Rome without cause, brother!”

I blinked. Well… I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but… that almost sounded too easy.

“But it’s true, aye?” Another added. “When was the last we fought?”

“At the bar with the girls?”

They shared a laugh. I politely laughed along with them.

“Quite the jovial mood, I observe. Might I inquire what has raised our spirits?” A voice came from behind me.

Multiple heads snapped to attention. My eyes rested on the approaching figure. I felt something twist in my stomach as I looked at the newcomer.

He looked very much unlike an imperial guardsmen. Where my new comrades were tall and broad he was short and defined. Not quite skinny, but not obviously muscular either. He did not tower over the others. His relatively unimpressive form didn’t command the same amount of fear, but there was something about him that was different… Something I couldn’t quite pin down.

My comrades went silent as he approached. “You are?” As his gaze fixed on me, I felt myself chewing on my gums. Something about that gaze was unnerving.

“Roland.” I said. “Roland Frost.”

“Fraus.” The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He looked at the others. “Leave us.” His tone brooked no argument.

Already quiet, the remainder of the guards fled. I caught a few pitying glances. I stared.

“What you want?”

He poured himself a drink, his attention seemingly occupied elsewhere. “Dark times are upon us. The priests speak of famine, plague, doom. A fire has ravaged our city. Three emperors have came and gone in a year. The times demand more than ordinary men.” Blue eyes met mine suddenly, and I felt a chill down my back.

“So I ask you again, Fraus? Who are you?”

My mouth went dry suddenly. What was that supposed to mean? “Not sure. Understand.” I managed.

He raised his wine cup, covering his face. “I am no fool. One does not simply impress the emperor in full view of Rome. You are no simpleton, that much is apparent.”

Really?

I couldn’t tell whether I should feel flattered or scared at that. “You sure?” I said with complete seriousness. “I feel like one.”

He didn’t laugh. Only stared. “Who sent you to Rome?”

“Well… this is awkward. I kinda got sent by God. Like, with a capital G. See, your gods are all fake, I’m dead, this world is some weird simulation made for my enjoyment and I have magical powers.” I said.

Or well, that was what I’d have said if I was telling the truth. Fortunately, I had some sense.

“I send… myself.”

He gave a brief nod at that. “A rare find, nowadays, a man who may call himself his own master.”

He set the wine cup down with a plop that made me jolt. “Tell me, Fraus, what is it you seek here in Rome?”

Stolen story; please report.

I thought about it for a bit. What did I want?

“To help.” I said helplessly. A rather bad summary, I’ll be honest, but it’s the best I can manage.

“Whom?”

“The people?” It sounded more like a question than an answer. I thought of the colosseum, the cheering crowds, the lions, the calls for blood.

I knew the “correct” answer, of course. For the common man. Help my fellow citizen. That was what a good main character would say. That’s what the real Roland would say. Or well… the fictional one. You get what I mean.

But as I thought more and more all I could think of was the bloodthirsty cheers. These people… they were barbarians.

The man’s eyes lit up in curiosity. “You seek an office as magistrate?”

“I guess.”

“I see.” He poured another cup of wine, and slid it across the table. “Salutem, Fraus.” He rose without awaiting a response. “I am Lucius Flavius Acriter, first of the praetorians. If you ever seek an ally, the doors of house Flavius will remain glady open.”

I eyed the cup of wine uneasily as he departed. I didn’t drink.

“Well?” A head peeked up from beneath a nearby table. Gaius approached. “What'd he say?”

Gotta say, the sight of several armor-clad men hiding very conspicuously under a table was rather bizarre. Good thing praetorians didn’t need to be stealthy. I saw a serving girl stare at them as they grunted and maneuvered, slowly extracting themselves.

“Sirs? Would you like a drink?”

The table flipped over. One particularly huge soldier rose to his feet, sending the rest scattering. “Spirits, aye!” His voice boomed. “I love spirits!”

I stared at the table and broken silverware on the floor. That didn’t look cheap.

The others slowly made their way to me, dusting themselves off. “Well?” Gauis prompted.

I scratched my head. “He said… little.” I managed in my broken latin. “Talked about… officials, magistrates.”

They exchanged glances. One gave an exaggerated yawn. Mostly the big guy. “Boring.” He picked up his sword with a grumble. He looked around. “Back to work?”

I saw my new comrades smile wolfish smiles. I blinked. “Work? Our job… stay… guard… no?”

This was the first time I saw Gauis smile. It was a hungry smile, wolfish as it was mischievous, with violence lurking at the edges. “No no, that’s work. I’m talking work.”

***

I won’t lie, my reaction on learning the unspoken part of my job was a bit… mixed.

“At night?” I asked incredulously.

I saw a shrug from Gaius. “Streets are quiet at night. You wouldn’t want to accost a popular senator in broad daylight. Things tend to happen when you do that. People get angry.”

“What…” I struggled to find the right words. “Did he do?”

“Who? The senator? Typical populares man. Lashes for the poor and bread for the criminals.” He scratched his head. “Or was it the other way around?”

I frowned. No. Miscommunication. “Why.” I tried. “Why kidnap senator?”

I saw another soldier shake his head. “Big guy’s orders, all the way from the top. Cap Lucien left us with a gold sealed order, no mistakin’ it.

“But why?”

He put a finger to his lips. “Big guy’s orders.” He repeated. “Don’t ask. That’s how you eat dirt for dinner in a ditch. We’re soldiers. Big guy pays us, we do stuff. No questions, no problems.”

“Ok.” I shifted on one leg, then another.

I usually wasn’t the curious type, but here it seemed like something wasn’t quite right. Then I heard the scream.

I stared, wide-eyed, as the fat man burst into view, a squirming body hung over his shoulder.

“That’s the senator?”

A boy not much younger than me looked up, disoriented and fearful. “Who are you?” He asked, thrashing. “Leave me! Father will have your head for this! You have any idea who you’re grabbing? I am Scipio, blood of Africanus! The Gracchi are my ancestors!”

I studied the boy. Africanus? He had an Italian complexion, with light, olive brown skin. His hair was black, as were his eyes. African? I didn’t see it.

“He no look… African.”

“It’s a title, plebes! He was the downfall of Carthage. Defeater of Hannibal!”

I blinked. “Are we sure this is who we came for?”

When I pictured senator, I was picturing someone… well… senile. Old, a head full of white hair– or maybe no hair. A creaky voice. No teeth. Bumbling about with a cane or maybe a servant or three.

This guy didn’t even have a fully grown beard!

I saw an eager nod. “Of course! This is the good senator’s grandson.”

Ah right, that makes sense… wait what?

“Thought… we wanted senator.”

“Yes.” The explanation came impatiently. “That’s why we need his grandson.”

“He is…” I typed the words in manually for a translation. “Hostage?”

“No… just… encouragement.” This fat soldier had a particularly nasty grin.

“You’d torture a child?” I gasped, horrified.

The soldier’s grin faded, replaced by a look of confusion. “Child?” He looked at the boy. “You are married, yes?”

Married? The kid didn’t even look 16!

“Yeah. For two years. I’d have you know my cousin is a rich heiress of Rome!”

Dear god… I wasn’t exactly a good christian, but this…

I honestly had no words. The hell happened to there being content filters? I didn’t even get harem isekai, but I have to deal with this nonsense?

“Well.” He slung the kid over his back. “Off we go. We’ll find you a nice spot as an enlisted to keep an eye on you.”

“Enlisted… like army?” I asked.

An enthusiastic nod. “Yes army. See-” He jerked his thumb at the kid. “Once you enlist there’s no leaving for twenty five years. He’ll be nice and cozy under the good emperor’s thumb. We’ll just say he volunteered, tons of lads his age do.”

“Wait!” He cried. “I’m still sixteen! Enlistment age is eighteen!”

“Close enough. We take em.”

“I’m an entire pes too short!”

“You’re growing, that could change. We take em.”

“I’m sick! Unwell!” Panic made it’s way into his voice.

“We’ll find a physician. We take em.”

“I can’t march 20 mille passus in a day!”

“That’s what drills are for. We take em.”

“I… I’m a member of a senatorial conspiracy! I’m planning to assassinate the emperor?”

“Guess we better keep an eye on you then. We take em.”

I saw the light slowly go out of the kid’s eyes. “I…” His lip trembled. “I…I’m allergic to arrows! I don’t wanna meet Pluto!”

“Tell us more along the way. Legions love knowing things bout their men.”

“I…” His breathing grew faster. “Do you…” He struggling stopped suddenly. “Do you take bribes?”

He yelped as the soldier dropped him to the ground.

I watched my comrades all smile widely. “We take em!”