> Faye could hear the wolves howling from the distant tree line, her mind rushing back fifteen months and remembering the bloody retreat. Images coming one after the other in black, white and red undertones. The horrified cries of women and children drowning, or getting slaughtered. Warriors laying ruined in the mud and the enemy roaring in triumph. Lucius dragging her across, a younger man then, but as imposing to look at. Ungodly handsome.
>
> The Legatus turned his helmed head to check on her and despite feeling bloated and hurting, Faye stood up straighter on the saddle and did her best to smile back warmly.
>
> “I should have left—”
>
> “Don’t even think about it Alden!” Faye cut him off sternly, freaked out at the mere thought.
>
> “Lady Alden, I offer my apologies,” Lucius teased her, but there was pain hidden under the façade and she could sense it.
>
> It seemed that every place held memories of lost friends.
>
> “How far are they?” She asked to change the subject.
>
> “Less than a day,” Lucius replied with a grimace.
>
> “That’s not too far.”
>
> “It’s even closer for the Legion,” Lucius added with a rare smile that took her breath away. “You know I’ve been giving it some thought,” He said treading carefully. “If it’s a boy, given that but for the old man’s sacrifice we wouldn’t—”
>
> “Yes,” Faye yielded interrupting him.
>
> Lucius stood back on his stallion’s saddle surprised.
>
> What? I can’t say no to you, ye dork!
>
> “I was going to explain my reasoning. Had a plan and all,” He said, staring at the men walking past them putting on a show.
>
> “Sorry husband, but I don’t need any convincin’,” Faye replied with a groan. “Plus, I need to get off this saddle.”
>
> “So… Roderick?” Lucius probed just to be certain and Faye sighed feeling the little Alden kicking her stomach with both feet, as if demanding to get out.
>
> “Ayup,” She managed to say and that was that.
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Legatus Lucius Alden
My Lord Lucius Alden…
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> Having secured the Duchess on the seat of Krakenhall Lucius forces returned to Krakenfort a week later. He stayed there for half a week and met with Governor Tutor, Deputy Governor Mat Buuren and Advisor Ko Nobbe. They all agreed on keeping the old contracts running with Kaltha, as Lucius was still looking for a diplomatic resolution and didn’t want to disturb the High King’s war effort with the Khanate.
>
> They also established an official link with Krakenfort spearheaded by Mart Buuren, agreed on the yearly tithe and formulized an ambitious plan to reopen the trade route towards Rockfort and Ludr. Parts of this plan included faster communications via relay stations along the way, a new road to reconnect the North with Fetya and with Willard’s Clan down the Umlen River and of course picturesque Aldenville built at the midpoint of Lucius five hundred kilometers march.
>
> The Legion marched east next and reached Rockfort a week before Dier, the last surviving Vanzon surrendered the city to the Legatus and Mad Wolf’s forces. The Jarl learning of the success calmed down a bit and the news spread throughout Fetya in a matter of weeks. With his west borders secure for the first time in centuries and having full control of Lud River proper, the Jarl had the opportunity to attack across the bridges again towards Eaglesnest, but he quickly realized he didn’t have the men to control all this new territory and continue the war effort.
>
> A fact the Legatus didn’t agree on.
>
> Lucius and his Legion crossed Alford Bridge, traveled to Bear Foot and reached Ludriver Castle after passing by his still standing bridge –now heavily reinforced- almost two months after the fall of Krakenhall and more than five after he’d started his campaign. He spent the time with his pregnant wife, drawing maps of the ‘Edge of Jelin’, writing detailed notes on logistics, setting up the organizational chart for a widespread reform of Regia’s military that integrated the Legion fully, a new road system and even very popular with the troops music, everything incorporated in ‘Verses on Campaign’ religiously kept by then newly promoted Prefect Varus Trupo.
>
> It was in the first week of the first month of summer, year 190 of the New Calendar, when news from the rest of Jelin finally reached him from Kas.
The Jarl’s grey beard stirred in anger as if sensing the old Northman’s mood. Jarl David eyed the also fuming Oscar Steele and Blondal Juter, Skuf Juter’s of Rifjordal son.
“I thought you promised to return Zofia Lord Lucius,” The Jarl grunted. “How is her ruling from Krakenhall a ‘good outcome’ for me?”
Lucius clenched his jaw, but decided to try again.
“It’s your daughter you have at your borders Jarl David,” He said measuring his words. “Instead of Lord Vanzon and his raiders. You have a trade route open for your hides and gold. You’ll have iron aplenty again and foodstuff. How is this not a good outcome?”
“I appreciate what you’ve accomplished Lord Lucius, but I can’t accept that mixed breed bastard in my family,” The Jarl replied sternly and Oscar scoffed in disgust at the mention of Zofia’s baby.
“Zofia is your blood and bastard or not that’s your grandson. They shall rule Krakenhall Jarl David and you can either be on friendly terms with them, or not. That’s your family and your affairs. As for my promise, I fulfilled it.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
“Zofia is safe and in the North. She would have been in your court, but hearing of your disapproval she asked for my protection. I couldn’t deny her in good conscience, nor sign off on murdering a child! I’m a knight of the Three Kingdoms! I counsel for the last time to make peace with her.”
“Bah!” The Jarl gasped and stared at the wall of his commander’s tent frustrated. “Zofia is a difficult child Lord Lucius,” He finally said. “You don’t know her like I do. Giving her power will make her even more difficult to deal with.”
“Your son likes her.”
“She’ll run circles around him,” Jarl David grunted. “Sam is good at war, hasn’t the smarts for ruling.”
“Make the effort Jarl David,” Lucius told him tiredly. “Placating her might work better.”
The Jarl sighed and combed his beard with his fingers.
“You’ll cross the bridges,” He said after a couple of contemplating moments.
“It’s either that, or flying back to Regia,” Lucius jested to lighten the mood. “I haven’t figured the latter out yet.”
“The Crulls won’t let you,” The Jarl said. “And I can’t cross with you, I have the same problem they had. I need to keep both bridges.”
“One,” Lucius corrected him and signed for Prefect Trupo to bring him a large map made out of calfskin vellum. “I’ll cross the Montfoot, all you have to do is hold Midriver Bridge from this side.”
“The men are tired Jarl,” Oscar Steele noted. “Weary of campaigning for two seasons straight.”
“If you want us to remain we will Jarl,” Blondal said, a boisterous young warrior with more blond than red hair.
“Do you trust Sovya?” Jarl David asked him. “Yer father might need the men back Blondal.”
“You don’t need a big force to hold the bridge Jarl David,” Lucius noted.
“Let me think on it,” Jarl David replied with a frown.
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Lucius listened to their argument for a while and then left to visit Ludriver Castle, the place looking abandoned as most Issirs and mixed-breeds had retreated to safety.
“Centurion Paulus Agricola, should be the Primus Pilus Legatus,” Prefect Varus Trupo said as they walked back to the Legion camp. The Legionnaires at the wooden gates saluted as they went past them after they had crossed the ramp over the dry moat.
“I trust your judgement Trupo,” Lucius replied eyeing the condition of the wooden premade headquarters. They would need to replenish their supplies, he noted. “You’ve promoted him twice.”
“I have. He’s been holding down the first Century whilst I scribble notes for the Legatus,” The Prefect replied smartly, his mustache dancing.
“Are you looking for an aide Trupo?” Lucius asked him acknowledging the saluting guard before entering the camp’s largest building.
“Another scribe, or two Legatus.”
“You have someone lined up?” Lucius said, a smile forming on his lips seeing Faye’s annoyed glare at letting the door open. Not because she felt cold or anything, but because the redhead had ballooned being in the final months of pregnancy according to her and didn’t want anyone to see her.
A nigh impossible ask.
“Keep him outside,” Faye warned him loud enough for the Prefect to hear.
Lucius paused and looked at the smiling officer.
“I have someone Legatus,” Trupo said. “He can start on the morrow.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Trupo readily replied. “Legatus,” He saluted, then dipped his head to the puffing out Northerner. “Lady Faye.”
“Prefect,” Lucius said and closed the door, when the man turned around and left them.
“Was he smiling?” Faye groaned, getting up from the bed.
“It’s his demeanor Faye,” Lucius replied and turned as she approached slowly. “How are you today?”
“Same shite as yesterday, but more bored,” Faye said and kissed him, whilst Lucius hugged her gingerly. “You smell of wet horse.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“I went to the Castle after I met with Jarl David,” Lucius explained and released the clasp on his cloak and sword belt.
“Are ye trying to rub it in Alden?” Faye complained. Staying inside all the time was gnawing at her.
“It was dreadfully boring. I knew what he was going to say,” He admitted and found a chair to sit and remove his boots. “There’s nothing he can do about it.”
“You should rest more.”
Lucius paused and looked at her teasingly. “You wish us to lay down wife?”
Faye pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Is this a trick query husband?”
“Ahm, no it isn’t,” Lucius admitted unsure.
“I always do,” Faye replied throatily with a half-greedy half-nervous smile that Lucius favored very much.
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A thunder was heard over the cloudy sky. The sudden bright light, shining on small puddles and wet leaves. It gleamed on helms and armour, on steel spear tips and the Legion’s bronze Panthera Tigris. The beast’s head coming alive for a brief moment sensing danger, its guttural roar reverberating over the whole camp in a warning and reaching Lucius ears.
He turned his head right towards the iron brazier now full of glowing embers that filled the dark room with shadows and felt Faye’s warm breath on his shoulder. The soaked woman’s heavy body all burning up, but he still sensed a touch of cold on his face and uncovered side. The figure standing next to the brazier rigid, head lost in the darkness and clad in non-standard armour ever so familiar.
“You’ve run out of time son,” Roderick rustled without looking his way. “The corpse vultures are gathering.”
Lucius made to stand up and realized he couldn’t. The feeling was lost from his neck down. He gasped desperately, his jaw numb and teeth hurting.
“Let the beasts fight each other where the sun sets. Make a stone of yer heart, or ye’ll never stop grievin’,” Roderick counseled and turned his head to look at the sturdy closed door of the camp’s headquarters. Heavy boots could be heard approaching from outside. “Strike without mercy, or share yer brother’s fate.”
Lucius growled furious and felt warm hands on his face, Faye staring at him worried when his eyes opened.
“Lucius,” Faye whispered. “Is everything alright?”
He stood up on the bed and turning put his feet down. The brazier almost out, but keeping the room warm. Lucius breathed once deeply and kissed Faye’s forehead pushing all those red curls away.
“Aye,” He replied, his eyes on the closed door. “Just a dream.”
The knock coming before he’d time to finish his words.
----------------------------------------
“Legatus!” The legionnaire boomed after saluting. “A bird arrived from Kas!”
Lucius had set up a station at Crimson Fort at the other side of the river. The Jarl had likened the idea and set up several in turn on every major settlement he ruled.
“Apologies milord,” Marc Gripa said standing right behind the flushed soldier. “I told them you were indisposed.”
“It’s quite right, mister Gripa,” Lucius replied getting up, leaving the heavy covers to Faye and walking naked to where he had his pants. “Is it from Canutia soldier?” He asked him while he dressed.
“Her and Labianus, Legatus! For your eyes only sire!”
Young Arrun.
“Let the missives with Gripa soldier,” Lucius ordered him and the soldier yielded with a small hesitation. Lucius heard the bed creaking as Faye got up, whilst he found a chair to sit at the maps table.
“How is morale mister Gripa?” Lucius asked and accepted the small scroll from him.
“Idle men are prone to foolishness,” Gripa replied. “The Tribune’s words milord. He almost had a riot trying to expel a bard from the camp earlier.”
“What happened?” Lucius asked him absentmindedly, Faye standing over his bare shoulder, the baby’s heartbeat on his skin, as he read Canutia’s tiny but stylish scribblings. Not an easy thing to find a well-educated maid, but Lord Nattas had suggested her and Lucius had no reason not to trust her.
“The bard started citing a bunch of yer poems and songs sire, the men loved them and the Tribune had to begrudgingly allow him to stay.”
My Lord Lucius Alden, Canutia wrote.
> On the second month of summer, the year 189 of the New Calendar I received word that your sister Lady Silvie Alden was to be wed to Prince Casper Eikenaar in the city of Alden. I’ve written to your Grace extensively about it, but I had no way of sending it. A month later another missive reached me informing us of a terrible calamity. It is with great sadness that I relay to you that there was an uprising and the young couple regrettably perished in the struggle. My heartfelt condolences for your loss.
>
> Your faithful servant,
>
> Canutia.
“Lucius?” Faye whispered sensing him tensing up. Gripa who had the second scroll in his hands stopped talking and grimaced.
Perished…
Lucius blinked and sat back on the uncomfortable wooden field chair. He felt discomfort in his chest and breathed out slowly. Gripa got up and went to bring a decanter of wine and a goblet left next to the door. The Legion had fully restocked its supplies at Krakenhall. The man placed the goblet in front of him and filled it up.
“Give me the other scroll,” Lucius rustled and Gripa nodded.
“Lucius…” Faye said shaking. “What happened?”
He couldn’t deliberate on it at this moment.
It was appallingly painful to put it to words.
Make a stone of yer heart.
Darn you old man.
“Find another chair,” Lucius ordered Gripa and he immediately went to fetch another one. Lucius stood up and helped her sit down in his place. “There was an accident…”
An uprising…
Faye had trouble breathing. “Who?”
“Give me a moment love,” He said and rubbed his face with his free hand to get ahold of his emotions. The second scroll feeling heavy in his other. Gripa returned with another chair, followed by Legion’s Tribune Galio Veturius, who immediately helped Lucius sit down. “I’m fine Galio.”
“Check the door Gripa,” Galio ordered his aide, his face tense.
“There’s no need…” Lucius started, but sensed that something was wrong.
“There’s a rumor making the rounds,” The Tribune started, reading Lucius query. “Not easy to contain.”
Lucius unfurled the second scroll numbly, his mouth dry and absent taste.
> My Lord Lucius Alden,
>
> It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you on the untimely passing of King Alistair Alden on the first week of the last month of winter, the year 190 of the New Calendar. Queen Regent Miranda Alden has taken over the duties of the throne of Regia at this difficult junction, until such a time the matter of succession can be resolved.
Lucius reached for the goblet of wine and drunk a hefty amount of it afore placing it back down on the table. Faye silently sobbed next to him, probably realizing this was more bad news by his body language and Galio who knew more appeared more angry than pensive. The newly promoted Tribune had a long history of service under his late father.
The fact that King Alistair wasn’t around anymore had stunned Lucius so much he barely functioned. The news coming so close after learning of Silvie’s fate was even more devastating. He thought of Jeremy having to deal with all this and even Miranda who must have been shattered by the tragedies.
“What’s the story?” He rustled.
Untimely…
“He was wounded afore the battle of the Turncoats,” Galio reported what he’d heard through the grapevine. “Stabbed in the back during negotiations.”
Ah.
“What battle? What negotiations?” Lucius murmured reaching for his cup with one hand, the other clasping Faye’s who tried hard to keep her crying muffled.
“With Antoon. At Riverdor, every lord and King was there is the word. It turned into a three day battle that ended in the coastal road leading to Alden.”
“Who won?” Lucius asked him calmly.
“It wasn’t conclusive, but both the Second Foot and the First Legion were involved apparently. They’ve taken huge casualties.”
“First Legion?”
“Lesia has one also. The Second, which makes ours the Third I suppose,” Galio commented.
“Was this retaliation?” Lucius asked and Faye gasped horrified at the thought.
“I don’t see how milord,” Galio replied sternly. “This happened afore we reached Krakenhall.”
“The second missive wasn’t written by Canutia,” Lucius observed.
“Probably she relayed what they had send to her milord, there are almost six months apart.”
Storm warning him the succession wasn’t resolved.
A curious note to add in such a missive.
Even more suspicious it wasn’t spoken plainly but weaved into the wording.
The vultures are gathering.
Lucius breathed out slowly and got up. He felt a little unstable for a moment, but quickly found his footing and turned to the Tribune his face dark.
“The Legion will move to the Montfoot, Tribune,” He said simply and an equally dark-faced Galio nodded. “Give them tonight, but on the morrow we march.”
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The two moons appeared on the dark skies the moment the clouds retreated. The rain hadn’t lasted, but it had washed some of the ice away and darkened the ground. Lucius walked slowly on the sludge and stopped at a distance from the fires burning in the middle of their camp. His heart heavy, he didn’t want to mingle with the soldiers enjoying a last respite before the campaign resumed anew the next day.
He breathed the damp air and smelled the forest waking up for the coming summer. It will be a short one up there, before the winter returned and blocked the roads towards Kas. The Issirs knew the window of opportunity he had and they were going to expect him to make the crossing as soon as possible. Either going straight south towards Brownfort and Canlita Sea following the road, or turn east after Wolvesbane Castle towards Kas and return from the same mountain paths he’d used the first time.
Faye got out of the soon to be brought down building, approached walking with difficulty and hugged him with both her arms over his armour. The couple almost hidden, watched the men singing near the fires in silent mourning, before she broke the moment.
“My heart weeps for yer family,” Faye murmured with a shiver. “Alas my fear brought this on us.”
“No it didn’t,” Lucius corrected her, his voice hoarse. “It was people that did it. Kings and lords, assassins.”
“You could have been there, instead of shackled to us,” She argued, just as a fancy dressed man got up and started playing notes with his lute, the soldiers following along with rhythmic clapping.
“Never say this again. I’ve caused you much pain and suffering and you’ve given me only joy,” Lucius admonished her, his voice softening at the end of it and cracking, mouth touching the top of her luscious mane. “Had I not met you, I wouldn’t have survived this night.”
“I wish I could give you more,” She replied, very moved as well.
“Gods give same as they take,” Lucius rustled.
“Slippery, divine ecstasy,” The bard sang, his voice uncouth at first either due to drunkenness, or a case of cold, but gaining momentum and mellowing up soon after.
“Hey that’s yours,” Faye chuckled turning to watch, her eyes gleaming in the dark and Lucius wiped his face with the back of his hand quickly. Lucius listened to the bard singing for a while, Faye humming along secure in his arms, until the heir to Regia realized he was holding her too tight without realizing it. He relaxed his grip on her and Faye pushed her head back in silent acknowledgement.
“Be gone spirits of the past, this trail leads us away,” The bard finished up the chorus finding his rhythm in the end.
You shall own it, never allow it to fester, or vanish, in the ploys of yester.
> Legatus Lucius Alden reached the Montfoot Bridge on the waning days of the first month of summer, the year 190 of the New Calendar. Northern lore says he paused afore crossing it again, fifteen months after he’d barely escaped over it and called for ‘Scarlet’ Faye Alden to approach. It was a clear summer night though the cold was probably bitter. They shared a moment watching the Legion banners marching across under the light of the torches and decided on a name for their soon to be born child.
>
>
>
>
>
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter II
>
> (Legatus Lucius Alden,
>
> Northern campaigns,
>
> Second Year
>
> Prelude to the 2nd battle of the Montfoot,
>
> Early summer of 190 NC)