This was an extremely worrisome situation. Sure, Remington was an expert in modern warcraft, but he didn't know shit about how things were done at the height of the Roman empire. There were no guns, and he was guessing brutality was maximized. While he felt confident in his own defensive skills, he wasn't sure it would be enough to protect Nathaniel. Candi would fucking murder Remington if he let something bad happen to the djinn.
The kid's words were met with a strange expression. Latin? Really? Remington whispered, and was amazed to hear that he did indeed speak Latin now. This was so fucked up.
He crept through the camp, not wanting to enter any other tents or draw attention to himself. He managed to find two red tunics and what appeared to be belt-like apparatuses, apparently designed to holster a weapon, probably a sword. They would be enough to help him and Nathaniel blend in while they made their escape. Armor, however, was nowhere to be found. Perhaps, because it held more value, it was kept inside the tents and close to the soldiers. Same went for the majority of the weapons, though Remington did manage to locate one rough looking sword. It didn't look anything like his officer's sword, but it would have to make do.
With the items gathered, he hurried back to the tent where Nathaniel was sleeping. They really needed to get going, but the kid was wiped from how much magic it had taken to transport them. He'd be better able to run if he got an hour's sleep. Remington peeked out the tent flaps at the stars and horizon and estimated he could give Nathaniel an hour to rest before they really had to make a run for it. It wouldn't be easy though, because he'd failed to locate shoes.