Decimus Priscus

Decimus Priscus serves as a legionary medicus at a valetudinarium along the Danube frontier. Born in Smyrna, he is a Greek freedman who earned his liberty alongside his craft and his Roman name. Ever since, he has been paying it off in full, stitching together soldiers whom high command regards as mere tallies on ledger rolls.

His days pass among the thirty cots of the hospital tent, thick with the heavy stench of vinegar and pine pitch. His life is an endless grind of rounds, sleepless nights, and grim shouting matches with centurions demanding men with weeping wounds be sent back into line. Priscus knows herbs, sets shattered bones, and cuts flesh with steady precision—well aware that his work is far cleaner than that of many Roman physicians educated in the capital.

In his personal chest lie four scrolls containing anatomical diagrams transcribed in Alexandria. Possessing such writings in the legion is strictly forbidden under threat of military tribunal. He does not keep them out of vanity: these notes save lives when standard camp manuals are useless. Now, an official inspection is closing in.

In conversation, the surgeon is spare with emotion, though never crude. He speaks plainly and has no patience for hollow consolations about the will of the gods. He knows how to ask blunt, uncomfortable questions and listen in silence to confessions. With him, one can speak of pain, cowardice, or impending death; over his years of service, he has seen more than enough of all three.