Mithras, consummate soldier he was, knew well that the mercantile bantering of the Palinate's agora was not his place. He could certainly shout loud enough, could command attention, but only to command, not to persuade. For that, he had subordinates. In particular, he had a young man, the luxuriant thirdborn of a fabulously wealthy household; Leotykides Omorfos, Leotykides the Beautiful. He had received the name as an insult for how greatly he seemed to care of his own appearance, but he had since relished it. To be sure, it was not an innacurate epithet. Unlike the scarred veterans Mithras and Arsakes, along with all the others, he was unblemished, his skin powdered with white chalk, his eyes painted, his golden hair grown long and curled in ringlets, extravagant even among the long-haired soldiers. It was to him, and men like him, that the duty of selling fell, and he took pleasure in it.
He was like an actor, spinning and turning in the market crowds, his fine linen sweeping the smell of his perfume through the rushing air, his voice powerful, and smooth. He prided himself on his salesmanship, how he could sell a slave without teeth as easily as one fanged. It was no great challenge this time, the people of Brexonburn were sturdy, farming folk, and they made good product. Most were sold in bulk, Leotykides assuring the purchaser that they were greatly experienced at working in teams to draw the plough or seed the field, but many were sold as house slaves in ones and twos. The finest, or those he could make look to be them, were sold to the city, to serve in public, while the worst were sold to work in the mines.
It took only a few days, before Leotykides was set to his next task; glorifying the exploits of the legion. Another task that well suited him. He would spend night after night in the inns and taverns of Gergan, telling great tales of hill tribes defeated crossing the mountains, or of the genius of Mithras, of the untapped wealth to be had in the lands of Saladonia; where a man could make his fortune as easy as stepping into a village with a sword drawn and the people would leap to his chains with their outstretched hands full of loot. Mithras needed new recruits, and fortunately, Leotykides and the others like him made for excellent recruiters, especially once rumours of their exploits spread, and when Leotykides bragged and boasted of the money won for the sale of the slaves. With any luck, Mithras would soon see another hundred men, perhaps hung-over ones, signed on to his legion, to form the second Cohort. In the mean-time, Leotykides would drink, dance, laugh and make merry. The comforts of Gergan were myriad, for one willing to find them.