350AD was a hell of a time in the old Roman Empire, unless you were those halfwits sitting all the way over east in Constantinople. If you were an actual Roman, not one of those diversity imports with which they were stuffing the legions, but a real honest to God Roman and not just any old Roman but a man, because the women just didn’t make the togas look any good, why it really was a good time to be alive. No joining the legion and having to scrape mud off your face for 20 years while you attempted to carve out a piece of the empire for yourself. That stuff was old galea. We had the Huns to do that job for us now. Better to sit around stuffing your face with anchovies while lamenting at the breakdown of law and order.
Those Hun imports could thrash away for decades on the battlefield, winning as much honor and prestige as they could carry home, but it would never make them a Roman. Everyone wanted to be a Roman, a real life citizen of Rome. The trick was to dangle the carrot in front of them; let them think that they had a chance to become a Roman, even though you knew that there was bugger all chance of that happening. True, every now and then you had to actually come through with your promise, for appearance sake you understand. I mean, the diversity imports were thick but even they would have eventually cottoned on to the fact that if nobody was getting the prize then maybe the prize wasn’t worth having.