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Imperium: End of an Age
Beneath the Ramparts

Beneath the Ramparts

The group walked their horses through the opening in the earthen embankment of the legion encampment. Men in sweat-stained tunics toiled within a ring of mount sentries to clear out the ditch and rebuild the wooden ramparts that lined the top of the embankment.

As the group passed through the embankment, they were met with a wall of noise from the encampment.

  "I am glad the senior centurion isn't allowing the magi to lay around." Edgar nodded towards the earth elementals, clearing the ditch that fronted the camp wall. He waved his gauntleted hand towards a group in grey robes with brown lining. "They can finally be of more use than practicing their parlour tricks."

"Edgar, when will you ever relinquish your grudge against the magi?" asked Aaron. He looked back at the older man with a smile. "Kylon only cheated you at dice once, five years ago," he said with a lazy smile, winking toward Kylon.

Edgar shot a sidelong glance at Aaron, his expression a mix of mock indignation and amusement. "Let a man nurse his grudges, Aaron. They're about the only things that get better with age.

"The Devil of Vila, still bitter about losing at cards," said Aaron with a shake of his head. "What is the world coming to?"

  The decurion's head snapped back to look at the older man more closely. "Centurion Edgar, who led the assault to take Vila?" The decurion's voice rose an octave at the end of the question.

  Edgar paused, his gaze distant as if he were traversing the years in his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of reflection and rue. "Lad, that tale belongs to another age, one I barely recognize now." He slowly reached up, fingers tracing the old scar etching his jawline. "Foolhardy heroics of youth... I've since learned the weight of such actions." A wry, knowing smile touched his lips. "These days, I'm simply Edgar, a man of House Baccus, no more a centurion than a minstrel."

  "Why are you killing the poor man's dreams, Edgar? Let the young have their heroes." Keenan called out. The other men quickly followed suit, jeering at Edgar.

  Their horse clomped over a temporary bridge built over the outer ditch that swayed and dipped with their passage. Just as Keenan finished guiding the last of their pack horses across, they spotted another patrol cantering towards them.

The horsemen were resplendent in half armour, the steel blued and bordered with gold gilding. Each man carried a long lance with a pennant that snapped in the brisk evening air.

"Make way for the First Wing of House Wela Lancers!" came a shout from a young man in a heavily embroidered tunic and pants. He rode slightly ahead of the cavalry wing. He brought a trumpet to his lips and blew the Imperial Advance. As he approached Nathan's party riding into the camp, he opened his mouth again. "Move out of the way, scum; his lordship Devon of house Wela will not be delayed.

The decurion escorting the party glanced between the mounted man in his beautiful clothing astride a fine stallion and the mounted men he was accompanying, each dressed in drab attire that would fit any prosperous merchant or minor Lord.

Shaking his head, the decurion shrugged and began to open his mouth to respond.

"Let's move aside for the Wela lancers, shall we? There is no need to cause an incident." Nathan said firmly before the man could start. The party moved into a small courtyard off the main street as the First Wela cantered along the cobbled roadway.

Edgar grumbled under his breath, "Racing horses through camp like it's a jousting field. That damn fool's going to trample someone before the night's out."

One of the cloaked men from Nathan's party pulled his horse out of line and brought it up beside Nathan.

 "Richard, what can I do for you?" Nathan brought his horseback in line behind the decurion, again leading them deeper into the camp.

  "I would like permission to speak with the men, my lord." Richard's eyes wandered along the rows of neat tent lines that stood in place of the old barracks building, which had rotted away and been pulled down for firewood by the cohort. "They look like a well-turned-out lot, and I have heard good things about the Fifth, but I have been out of touch a long time, and things can change."

"You have my permission, Richard. Engage with the men. Understanding their state is important." He stopped speaking as a file of legionaries stripped down to their tunics and pants marched by carrying large wooden stakes, which would be used to line the ditch.

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Richard began to pull his horse out of the line.

  "Richard, I will make excuses for you if there are any issues." Nathan turned to face him, his eyes locking onto Richard's. "I would prefer if there were no issues I had to smooth over."

  Richard nodded, moving toward a large mess tent on the corner of one of the major roadways that bisected the camp.

  The party dismounted in a large plaza at the center of the camp—a massive tent made in the style of the step nomads. A framework of lattice covered by dense felt and then a layer of canvas overtop dominated the plaza. Edgar looked over the massive ger with a critical eye. "No one can say that the empire doesn't learn from those we defeat, lad."

Raised voices could be faintly made out as the party dismounted.

A voice tinged with exasperation and resignation came out muffled from the ger. "Are you telling me that his lordship has decided that dusk would be the best time to take a patrol of lancers out to look for the enemy? Gods grant me strength. I know the empire needed more troops, but why did the emperor grant the senatorial houses the right to raise two centuries each? Centurion Davos, please send out a file of your troops to keep an eye on the most esteemed lordship's venture," came a resigned voice from within the ger.

Nathan and his group began to dismount in front of the ger.

The guards at the front entrance stiffed, and their hands drifted towards their short swords hanging from their waist.

The door flap on the ger swung open, and a man wearing an imperial heavy cavalry half-plate strode out, the metal glinting in the fading light. His face was a mask of anger and frustration. His head snapped up as he saw the party standing there. The decurion went rigid as his gaze settled on him. "Decurion Miles, who are these men, and why are you not at your post?" His voice was hard as steel as he stared at the young decurion.

  The decurion dropped the reins of his mount and snapped to attention, bringing his fist up to his left breast in a salute. "I left the rest of my file at the guard post under Senior Trooper Rodrigo, sir!"

  The centurion's frown deepened even more. "I did not ask who you left them under. I asked why you are not with them, decurion!"

'Tread carefully, Nathan. This is a delicate balance of respect and authority.'

Recognizing the moment's delicacy, Nathan stepped forward, easing the tension. 'The responsibility is mine, Centurion,' he said, his voice carrying a calm authority. 'I requested their guidance in navigating the camp.'

  "Who the hell are you?" turning on his heel, facing Nathan.

  "I apologize; I have not introduced myself." Nathan peeled off his heavy riding gloves and held out his hand. "I am Nathan of House Baccus."

  The centurion stood motionless for a heartbeat; then, he brought his fist up to his chest in salute. "My apologies, my Lord. I was not aware that you were in the area."

  Nathan returned the salute crisply. "No offence has been taken, centurion; I understand that I look more like a vagrant than a member of the Ten Families. I see that the Fifth cohort of the Fourth Legion is here. I had been led to believe that the entire legion had been dispatched to deal with this issue."

  The centurions' gaze was fixed on a spot just over Nathan's shoulder. "The day before the legion marched, the general received new orders. He was to march East to the frontier fortress of Sanctuary. We were detached along with his lordship's wing of lancers who escorted the messenger to the legion headquarters, my Lord."

  Nathan nodded his head as the centurion finished. "How long have you been on the march for?"

"Just over three weeks, my Lord."

  "That is a long time to march, only a hundred-mile march." Nathan stared at the centurion for a long moment before he brought his hand up to his left breast in a salute. "Please do not let me keep up from your duty Centurion." The young man stepped out of the way of the grizzled centurion. "I am sure that you have better things to be doing."

  The centurion raised his fist in a salute that mirrored the young lords. "It was a pleasure to meet you, my Lord. I hope I will be able to see you again." With that, he strode quickly down the main road, his loud voice bombing as it called out to the decurion whose file was manning the highway blockade.

  Nathan looked around the old legion camp that was being brought back to life by the Fifth Cohort. Already, the fort was cleared of the brush and small trees that had taken root in the years since the legions had pulled out of this area and been redirected away from this sleep and safe region and towards the battlefields of the empire's eastern frontier.

'For a hundred years, they have been left to fend for themselves.' I wonder how they will feel now that my family has been given stewardship over these lands.'

His gaze fixed on the ger again; this was the new style of tent replacing the old canvas ones that legions had used for centuries. They were still reserved for legion officers as they required more space in the pack train than the old canvas style.

  There was a cough behind Nathan. "My lord, if you wait any longer, they will think you are nervous," Edgar whispered.

  Squaring his shoulders, Nathan turned to the legionary on guard outside the ger. "Let the senior centurion know Nathan Baccus is here to see him."

  The legionary saluted, pulled the tent flap open and stepped inside. Nathan and his party stood silently, waiting for a response. A long minute passed before the legionary stepped back out.

  The senior centurion welcomes you and asks if you mind joining him in his ger, my Lord."

  Turning to his small party, Nathan motioned one of the men forward, "Kyron, I am going to be meeting with the senior centurion. Would you find us a place to camp for the night?" With that done, he turned back towards the legionary and followed him inside.

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