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墨書 Inktalez
Laura opened her laptop and entered an online forum dedicated to the study of ancient Roman history. She wanted to see if other scholars or history enthusiasts had similar findings or hypotheses. On the forum, she found several articles specifically discussing Legio IX, with one mentioning an ancient prophecy claiming that Legio IX disappeared due to some kind of "mysterious curse."
"A mysterious curse?" Laura frowned, feeling very curious.
This article quotes several ancient Roman texts, including some medieval works. The author speculates that Legio IX may have encountered unforeseen circumstances due to entering a land considered sacred or cursed.
While this theory is highly mysterious and lacks concrete evidence, it has piqued Laura's curiosity even more. She has decided that her next step will be to conduct on-site investigations at an archaeology site in England. Perhaps there, she will find more clues about the disappearance of Legio IX.
When Laura closed her laptop, her heart was filled with determination and anticipation. Whether through scientific explanation or supernatural forces, she was determined to uncover the mystery of history. Laura knew that this would be the most important adventure of her life, and possibly the most dangerous.
But no matter the outcome, she was ready. Laura packed up her books and notes, left the library, and embarked on the unknown journey to find Legio IX. Along the way, she would encounter unexpected challenges and wonders, and have a fateful encounter with a Roman legion commander from a distant past.
She didn't know how she would intertwine with the Legion commander named Pluto in a cross-time adventure, but she was sure it would be a story worth exploring, a story that would change her life.
In the year 83 AD, as night fell, Legio IX was stationed in Yorkshire, Britain. The moon was the only source of light, casting silvery edges on the heavy clouds and creating mottled shadows. The silence of the night was only broken by various sounds of life in the army: soldiers murmuring, the clinking of hammers, and the distant neighing of horses.
The military camp is arranged in a rectangular formation, surrounded by a low wall made of stones and wooden pillars, symbolizing the strictness and discipline of the Roman army. There are strict guards at the gate, and everyone is uniformly equipped: armor polished to a shine, holding spears and shields. There is a watchtower at each corner, with the sentries holding crossbows, ready to respond to any sudden situation.
Inside the camp, the organization is even more rigorous. The soldiers' tents are arranged according to their military branch and rank, with the command tent and war conference room in the center. The tent of Legion commander Pluto is here, slightly spacious, containing not only basic sleeping arrangements but also maps and tactical boards, indicating his important command responsibilities.
Pluto's deputy and several senior officers gathered around the campfire, discussing tomorrow's operation. The flames illuminated their faces in shades of red, reflecting their varying levels of tension and anticipation.
At the rear of the camp are the supply area and Medical tent. Rows of wooden crates are stacked, each labeled with various supplies: food, water, medicine, and weapons. Inside the Medical tent, doctors and assistants are busy bandaging and treating the wounded soldiers. Their expressions are serious yet gentle.
In this way, Legio IX established a small "Roman Empire" in this distant land with the consistent discipline and efficiency of the Roman army. Although they were far from home, facing unknown risks and challenges, they found a sense of familiarity and security here, and prepared fully for the upcoming battles and adventures.
In the darkness of Britannia, a campfire burns next to a tent, flames dancing and crackling. Cyrus and a group of veterans sit by the fire, their faces illuminated unevenly by the firelight, sometimes appearing resolute and at other times weary.
Cyrus, a 25-year-old Roman soldier, has short black hair and a muscular body. The firelight reflects in his deep eyes, and his skin has become dark from long hours of outdoor combat and marching. Although there are no obvious scars on his face, the seriousness and resoluteness typical of a soldier are easily felt.
Sitting next to him is a group of seasoned veterans who have experienced many battles. Their faces are covered with wrinkles and scars left by war. These veterans all have rough features and salt-and-pepper hair, and their eyes are even deeper than Cyrus, as if they hold countless untold stories and experiences.
The temperament of these veterans is completely different from Cyrus. They exude a subtle but extremely strong composure and calmness, even in this unfamiliar and uncertain land. They gently sip on their simple drinks, occasionally displaying a barely perceptible smile, and they don't need many words to communicate. Just sitting quietly by the fire is enough to make them feel a deep sense of emotion and comfort.
Amidst the flickering firelight, Cyrus and these veterans are silently contemplating what might happen next. But regardless, at this moment, they just want to enjoy this brief tranquility and reunion.
Suddenly, a veteran approaching sixty years old stopped his activity and looked at the nearby woods and high ground, breaking the silence.
"Britain This damn place, it's never been a good place," the veteran said.
Several other veterans nodded in apparent agreement with him.
Cyrus felt a bit confused and asked, "What's wrong? Why are you all so displeased with this place?"
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