Saturnalia was all but a memory, and today Marcus had commanded the auxiliaries in his troops to stand to attention and welcome the Praefectus castrorum; the new Commandant. As a prefect himself, Marcus was in charge of a group of men but had no imperium- no immense power, such as this man had. Marcus stood at the head of his troops staring straight ahead of him. Janus was opposite him, in front of his group of men. And so it continued throughout the centre of the fort. The gates of Carrawburgh swung open and the horse which carried the new Commandant to his posting at the edge of the empire paraded through the entrance. A stocky, middle aged man sat in the saddle. His hair was shorn close to his head and peppered with silver. His eyes scanned the troops, seemingly noticing anything and anyone that might be out of place. Titus Perpetuus had been warned that this might be a challenging position, yet he was ready and willing to meet it. He had not risen through the ranks by shying away from difficulty.
