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Pausing only long enough to get formed back up, the men of the 6th charged into the Bosporans, who put up a fierce resistance for a few moments before they broke, but they bought enough time for Pharnaces and a few members of his retinue to escape on horseback out the opposite side of the camp. There was a blast of a horn, an obvious signal to the royal guard that Pharnaces had escaped, then to a man they stopped fighting, throwing their weapons down. Unfortunately, for some of them, it took a moment to get the men to stop cutting them down, despite the Centurions and Optios doing their best to halt the carnage. After they were disarmed, I assigned a Century to guard them before turning the rest of the men loose to loot the camp, which was all they were really concerned with anyway. The rest of the Bosporan force had crumbled by this time as well, so now the camp was filling with the rest of Caesar’s army. There was the inevitable confusion and squabbling as we Centurions worked out what part of the camp belonged to which Legion. Naturally I had selected the juiciest bit for my men immediately surrounding Pharnaces’ tent, which was being guarded by a couple of sections of my men for Caesar, detailing Felix to command them, knowing I could trust him not to yield to temptation or allow the men to either. Caesar rode into camp, where we hailed him as Imperator three times. He sitting on Toes, smiling down at us and I was struck by a sudden sadness, though to this day I do not know exactly why. Perhaps it was the knowledge that we were through fighting, and that Caesar would be sending the 6th back to Italy, for that is what he had announced as his intention the night before the battle during our final briefing. Oh, I was as anxious as any man to go home; I had a new child and I had not seen my wife in more than a year. While I cannot say that I enjoyed fighting with the same fervor that I did when I was younger and was marching in the ranks, marching to war was what gave my life purpose. I had enough of a taste of peace and garrison duty to know that I did not care for it the way some men did and in fact, found it much more onerous than the hard life of marching camps and campaigning. Gazing up at the man who I had followed for all of my adult life to that point, I felt like something was passing, that there was a change happening that I could not fully grasp, and I was more than a little surprised and mortified to feel my eyes start to fill with tears. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed, thankful that everyone was more occupied with cheering Caesar. He made a short speech, knowing that he needed to say something, but also knowing that he needed to keep it brief, since the men were only half-listening, the rest of their attention focused on the line of tents that they were about to ransack, mentally adding up the loot in their head. Of course, the amount that they imagined and what they would find were rarely in close proximity to each other, but every night around a fire there are tales told of the lucky Legionary who found a king’s ransom hidden under a bedroll, or a statue painted over to look ordinary but was really solid gold. The fact that none of the men telling the tales were actually those who experienced such a bounty did not dissuade them from the belief that they were true, and I had long since given up trying to convince any of my comrades who engaged in such fantasy that they were just stories told by bored men. Caesar thanked us for our valor, making special mention of the 6th for our work in smashing the chariot attack, and I could see the men were as pleased as if they had found that statue made of gold. I had to suppress a laugh; here were these hard-bitten men, who had marched for Pompey and had been defeated by the man praising them, yet they looked as proud as if they were the prized pupil being singled out for acclaim by their tutor. Despite themselves, and despite the vows I heard many of them make around the fires at night, they now loved Caesar just as much as the men who had been marching with him as long as I had, and they lived for these moments of praise from him. They had been seduced, just like me, and just like Cleopatra, though in truth I think with her it may have been the other way around. Regardless, the men of the 6th were now Caesar’s men. And we would be leaving him to march into an uncertain future.
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The next day a formation was held, where Caesar made public his plans for the army. I had been sworn to secrecy, meaning the news that the 6th was being sent back to Rome to receive all that they had been promised was a total and wonderful surprise to the men, and they cheered Caesar lustily. We would march overland through Asia all the way to Dyrrhachium, take the short boat trip across to Italy, then march to Rome and we would be escorting the prisoners taken the day before, where they would be sold into slavery. The proceeds of the sale would be evenly divided among the army, but not before they were marched in the triumph Caesar planned when he returned. The 36th and Deiotaran Legions would remain in Pontus for the time being, because Pharnaces had escaped and Caesar did not want to take the risk of him raising another army to try again. For our actions against the chariots, Caesar ordered our standards to be decked in both ivy and oak, and a number of the men were decorated on my recommendation, including Optio Tetarfenus, who was the first over the wall of the enemy camp. The royal treasury of Pharnaces had been captured intact, and while by custom it belonged to Caesar, he announced that the entire sum was also to be evenly divided among the army, which as you can imagine, was wildly popular with the men. Capping it all off, Caesar announced that the next three days were to be spent in thanksgiving, meaning that only the essential duties of guarding the camp and prisoners would be maintained, and that the wine ration was doubled for the entire three days. I do not know which the men cheered the loudest for, the three days off or the wine, but I found myself suppressing a grimace at the thought of the men being idle for three days, with enough wine to get them in trouble. Immediately after the thought struck me, I had to chide myself. Titus, you are in serious danger of becoming an old woman; there was a time when you would have been cheering just as loudly as the rest of the men at the idea of three days with nothing to do. When the men were dismissed, chattering excitedly with each other about the drinking and gambling of their newfound wealth they were going to do, I called a quick meeting of the Centurions and Optios.