I'm Patrick Weiman, and this is the Fall of Rome.

The pre-Don light is rising in the east beyond the broad expanse of the Rhine River, and

the wooden floorboards of the balcony that wraps around the upper floor of your watchtower

creek under your feet as you keep dutiful watch.

The year is 355, and you're a soldier of the Limitanei, the frontier troops guarding

the edges of the Roman Empire.

Your dozen bunkmates, your Contubernales, are snoring away inside the watchtower, but maybe

a couple have begun to stir for the day's work.

What's there?

Movement.

There are boats crossing the river.

You squint to try to make out the shapes.

Are they allomani raiders coming to attack the watchtower?

Are they scouts trying to suss out the strength of the army units in your region?

Is it a deputation from the local king, come to Parley with the regional army commander?

Are they new recruits on their way to join the army?

Or are they traitors, agricultural contractors bringing needed supplies of grain and meat

for the provisioning of you and your mates?

These are all possibilities that you might face on a daily basis as a soldier in the late

Roman army, part of a lived experience that ran the gamut from pitched battles to the

drudgery of garrison work, all carried out within the diverse, blended context of the

Roman frontier.

...