‘We live by the rules of the Book’
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Prefect Nonus Sula,
Addressing parts of the Third and Fourth Legions
After the Battle of Stad River.
Last month of summer 190 NC
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IV Legio official records
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Legatus Lucius Alden
The month of harvest
Part III
-One in Five-
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> The four Centuries and the Rangers under Centurion Kaeso eliminated the threat of Bas Crull’s Rangers, where today stands the road to the Dwarf Mines, but failed to locate the man himself purportedly. Several versions of what happened to him are cited till this day. Anyways, the Centuries then moved to flank Lord Bart’s main force after securing the Mountain Pass eight kilometers away, cutting off the Lord of Eaglesnest and trapping him inside the Kas valley.
>
> Lord Bart had almost broken through the two Cohorts defending the center, but for the timely intervention of Lucius who reinforced them later that morning with recruits from the City Guard under Arrun Flavianus, a man he’d installed as its commander and Governor Macrinus’ newly formed Kas Militia.
>
> The latter unit would grow in the years to come under excellent officers, taking advantage of the Military School thriving in the city. The first-rate instructor Macrinus had created an even bigger recruiting body, or reserve, effectively another semi-permanent military unit.
>
> The prominent city of Kas is known today as the ‘Tiger’s Lair’, or the ‘Old Castrum’ for a reason.
>
> In the Northern Pines front, Centurion Ennius conservative approach was tested despite the favorable terrain, but the Crulls had a bout of terrible luck that day. Sir Hein Crull, perhaps his family’s most well-reputed knight, a good fighter and general, got injured in one of the many skirmishes and went into a coma from which he would never recover regrettably.
>
> Lord Bart seeing the First Cohort appearing to his rear, stopped assaulting the center and retreated towards his second son and the Issir force fighting in the northern forest, in an attempt to break through towards Fenford Burg. Unfortunately for him Sir Hein’s force collapsed after his fatal injury and Ennius who had fought a stalling battle ordered the Second Cohort after them. Lord Bart found himself cornered before the natural barrier of the whitebark pines, Ennius Cohort anchored there and the bulk of the Third Legion approaching from two directions on his back.
>
> It was an untenable position and with no options available at hand he turned the strong Issir force around and attacked all out hoping to catch the marching Cohorts by surprise and smash his way through.
>
> He didn’t.
Stormbolt neighed, then snorted shaking its black mane irritated at the many horses near him. Lucius patted the loyal mount with a gloved hand, his eyes examining the bloodshed thoughtfully.
“Awful decision, even given his options,” Galio Veturius commented, standing stiff on his own horse. “There’s Ennius poking his head out of the trees.”
“He’s taken his bloody time,” Trupo grunted, an aide giving him a bundle of reports from the officers engaged in the fight.
“Shall I send everyone in milord?” Galio asked him. “Whilst they are disorganized.”
Lucius grimaced and spotted Ramirus riding towards them. He guided Stormbolt forward and stood up on the stirrups to better observe the unfolding battle about five hundred meters away. He didn’t even have to use the cavalry. Lord Bart didn’t have a chance, he thought. This was a catastrophic blunder, but then again not all your schemes can be a success. The Crulls should have just sued for peace after their wins the previous years.
He made a note of that. One should try and learn from his opponent’s mistakes. Be mindful of pitfalls, vanity and the greed success breeds.
“We will give Lord Bart the option to surrender,” he announced to the frowning officers. “I won’t condone indiscriminate slaughter gents.”
He caught Ramirus’ expression and grimaced.
“Of course milord,” Galio replied with a nod. “Trupo order the Centurions to halt.”
The Prefect saluted and turned to his aide, a rider coming from the walls of the city at their backs approaching at a fast gallop.
“Ramirus,” Lucius asked, keeping a worried eye on the rider reaching them. “I didn’t see Kaeso’s troops with the Cohort. How did the battle go?”
“A nasty affair Legatus,” Ramirus replied. “But the Centurion fared well. Centurion Mangas performed admirably at the mouth, as did Decanus Kato in the Southern Pines. I have to recommend them both for a medal and report the West Fort site is again under the Legion’s control, as is the Mountain Pass.”
“Is Kaeso rounding up the prisoners?” Lucius queried staring at the blank faced intelligence officer.
“As I said sire,” Ramirus replied evenly. “A nasty affair. They fought to the last.”
Hmm.
“Who was in command?” Lucius asked thinking of Bas Crull, as this daring infiltration had his fingerprints all over it.
“It isn’t clear at this point.”
The rider had reached them and was stopped by a solemn-faced Gripa, the young Legion clerk one of the boys working the birds in the Castrum.
“Have Kaeso report to me, upon his return,” Lucius ordered Ramirus and turned his horse to approach his aide that was talking with the messenger, Galio watching them from the sides with a deeper than usual scowl on his weathered face.
“What happened?” Lucius asked Gripa. The man was reading through several messages one after the other.
“The Fourth got mixed up with the Duke’s forces in the woods,” Gripa replied. “Some of it that is, apparently there are units engaged on the Stad River’s bridge as well.”
What?
“Give me this,” Lucius grunted and grabbed the small unfurled scrolls. “One’s from Valens fighting near the road, the second is reporting Sula has reached the river,” Lucius read aloud.
“Ah,” Galio grunted and jumped from his horse waving for an aide to open the small field table. “Find me that map lad,” the aged officer said.
“Read the third,” Gripa advised him. “The first missives are more than a couple of days old.”
“Why the delay?” Lucius asked reading the third missive from Valens. The officer reported he’d managed to hold the Lesia Regulars under Baron Palma. The latter had retreated at the end of the second day to deal with Sula. “Tribune?” Lucius rustled and jumped down from his horse as well to look at the map, the other officers were poring over silently.
Galio grunted and Trupo who had approached to peek over the Tribune’s shoulder rubbed his face hard with a gloved hand as if to combat a sudden bout of migraine.
“Well then,” Trupo murmured.
“Milord,” Galio said and showed him the map. Lucius stared at the crude drawing, the old hide soft and the colors washed-out. “Sula controls the bridge.”
God darn, Lucius thought impressed and worried at the same time. How did you pull that off?
“Where’s the Duke’s supply line?” Lucius asked trying to read the situation quickly, his mind also on the battle happening not that far from them. Fortunately quieting down after the Cohorts had paused their advance.
“He has none milord,” Galio replied. “That was it.”
“How about the shore, can he use that?”
“If Halfostad moves fast to assemble a fleet and he makes it to the coast perhaps,” Galio replied. “But this is a rocky wilderness, amidst a forest. I don’t even see a beach milord.”
“Can Sula hold them off?” Lucius asked. “How big are Lesia’s forces?”
“Too big. A couple of thousand at least,” Galio replied. “Plus the Duke’s Carls, though Juter might turn around and balance this thing out given enough time. Valens might have to push them though to bail him out, risk Palma turning on him again twice more determined to get to the Fourth’s supplies.”
“He probably halted the Legion’s train in advance,” Trupo noted. “Kept them back. Sula is no fool, but it may come to that. Valens would have to master one hell of a defense and the Baron won’t retreat this time.”
“All he needs is time,” Galio agreed. “That’s a lot of Regulars and Valens can’t have more than four hundred men and if that many.”
It depends.
“Legatus?” Trupo asked, by now he’d learned to read Lucius expressions.
“Sula wouldn’t have moved so daringly with no reason,” Lucius explained. “While defense seemed like the safe move here, we don’t know it for certain. Giving the Duke and the Baron time might have spelled doom for him. If he managed to catch, or even destroy their supply train though, then all these forces must survive without it.”
Time wasn’t on the Baron’s side.
“Legatus,” Ramirus said, a fresh report in his hands. “Lord Bart won’t surrender. He doesn’t recognize your authority.”
Lucius frowned and turned his head to stare at the Issirs formed up in their squares in an arching frontline.
“How many in the pocket?” He asked.
“More than a thousand milord,” Galio replied. “We will take casualties in a direct assault.”
Lucius sighed and glanced at the map showing Sula’s position.
“Durio has loaded the Scorpios?” He asked, not wanting to go there, but seeing no other option. Sula needed reinforcements. The Prefect of the Fourth Legion could stall, but eventually hunger and desperation would unleash all those enemy soldiers on his position.
The problem was that help was two days away, if Lucius left immediately. Galio had answered him in the meantime.
Damn you for forcing me to do this, he cursed the hateful Lord Bart.
“Deploy them on the field Tribune, whilst there’s still enough light to get the range,” Lucius ordered eyeing the reddish sun and realized he’d spend the whole day on the saddle. A sudden commotion started on the distant frontline, the murmur growing, with many legionnaires shouting. Lucius tried to understand what they were saying, everyone’s attention drawn to the phenomenon.
“What in Tyeus spear?” Trupo cursed, working at his mustache.
“Hmm,” Galio murmured, a hand over his eyes. An aide went to fetch them a spyglass and Lucius realized with some bewilderment that the legionnaires were celebrating.
“What is this nonsense? What’s gotten into them?” Galio grunted with a scowl, but the right question to ask, Lucius thought standing back and crossing his arms on his chest, is why.
> Lord Bart Crull, probably devastated learning of Sir Hein’s fate upon reaching his small camp at the end of the woods and under pressure to get out of the situation he’d dug himself into, refused to negotiate with Lucius that was in turn troubled at the news of Nonus Sula’s predicament. While events would showcase that his fears were not justified, it is safe to assume the recently becoming a father Legatus was in turn quite burdened by this point.
>
> Lord Bart ordered his trapped force to prepare for another assault on the front covered by the First Cohort and attempt to smash through in order to reach the Mountain Pass. A disagreement sprouted out, mainly from the force under Lord Jake Eams of Northwatch Castle, a distant cousin of Lord Bart.
>
> Lord Eams wanted to negotiate a truce with Lucius considering the day lost and further bloodshed pointless. In a theme that was to appear again and again that same week, tempers flared, but most men sided with the Baron of Northwatch Castle. Lord Bart ordered his guards to arrest Lord Eams and the ringleaders, but it backfired and they got overwhelmed instead.
>
> The disagreement turned into a bloody fight, in front of the jubilant legionnaires watching them.
‘If ye so wish, Lord Alden,’ Lord Bart had told him almost two years back afore sending him to die into the trap he’d set up for the Jarl’s men. Lucius stared in the light of the torches at the mutilated body of the Lord of Eaglesnest numb, a deep frown on his face. Sir Hein’s pale corpse laid next to his father, the young knight that had fought Ralph in Riverdor ages ago it seemed now, sporting a bloody wound on his chest, the plate wrapped there.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and glared at the surrendered grim-looking rows of Issirs. Galio standing next to him glanced his way.
“How many?”
“Over two hundred were killed before Ennius managed to stop them. I had to order him personally to get him to move. Almost as many were cut down in the attempt.”
“Good grief,” Lucius grunted appalled. “How many left?”
“Over five hundred milord.”
Lucius stared at the dejected troops. “Who’s in command? Lord Bas?” He couldn’t spot the distinct figure of Lord Bart’s third son anywhere amongst the survivors.
“Lord Eams,” Galio replied. “He’s injured.”
“How serious?”
“A blade in the gut.”
“Can he speak?” Lucius probed.
“The Dottore is with him.”
Right.
Lucius puffed out and looked about him. The Second Cohort was keeping an eye on the Issirs while the rest of the soldiers where tending to the injured and the dead left in the field. He spotted Kaeso’s troops returning and grimaced.
“Where’s Arrun?” He asked the Tribune.
“He’s reporting to Macrinus,” Galio replied.
“Can the Governor manage the prisoners?” Lucius asked.
“You intent to keep them milord?”
“I can’t exactly get rid of them Galio,” Lucius admonished him. “Nor can I send them back.”
“That would be unwise milord,” the aged officer agreed. “I will message the Governor.”
“Good,” Lucius agreed. “Find me those that cut down Lord Bart,” he added.
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“Centurion Kaeso is waiting Legatus,” Ramirus informed him, after he rode back to his command post, now dismantled by legionnaires. Several hundred citizens of Kas had made the trip to the battlefield to help out with the injured.
“I see him Ramirus,” Lucius replied dryly and gave Gripa the reins of his horse. Kaeso stood next to the fire, scarred face adding to his sinister appearance. The Centurion carried a couple of swords with him, other than his bow and quiver. His men resting next to their horses appearing as worn out as their leader.
“Chief,” Kaeso greeted him informally with a smirk. “It seems you’ve avenged the old man.”
Lucius paused and gulped down taking a moment to gather himself.
“Bas was responsible for that Kaeso,” he reminded him. “Both Lord Bart and Sir Hein are slain instead.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Good riddance,” Kaeso replied callously. “That’s a wrap for ‘em hehe.”
Lucius sighed and stared at the watching Ramirus. “Bas might wait in Eaglesnest.”
“Nah, Bas is dead chief,” Kaeso replied. “One of his Rangers told me so. The fucker got cut down back in Stag’s Doab. He’s been dead for a couple of months now. Turned to mud hehe.”
Lucius stood back and crossed his arms to his chest. “You believed him?”
“Twas his dying words,” Kaeso deadpanned and reached for his waistband. He’d a shortsword there -not a Legion weapon, the handle on it carved into a three headed Eagle. He offered it to Lucius handle first.
“What’s this?”
“His sword chief,” Kaeso replied. “His man carried it.”
Ah.
Lucius stared at the blade, his jaw clenched tightly in the memory of Roderick standing by the frozen bridge at the Montfoot River and urging a younger version of Lucius to save Faye and himself. He licked his dry lips, too emotional to speak.
“Heard Sula got himself into trouble,” Kaeso said changing the subject perceptively.
“Mmm,” Lucius muttered and rubbed his face, before pushing his hair back. “I need to get on this.”
“I’ll come along Chief,” Kaeso said. “Just give the order.”
Lucius nodded. “Gratitude Kaeso. You’ve won this battle.”
“Nah, that was all you milord. The man that makes the calls should take the credit,” the Ranger added with a smirk.
And all the blame, the saying went, Lucius thought and turned to a content looking Ramirus.
“You should issue the Phalera for those involved,” he told him. “I’ll speak with those two myself.”
“Decanus Kato sir?” Ramirus asked.
“Him and his tall friend. Papus,” Lucius corrected him.
“Ahm, Papus was killed Legatus, their Maniple was in the thick of it,” Ramirus informed him. Lucius grimaced and cast another look at the expensive shortsword. “I’ll speak with him before I depart,” he finally said. “Find Lord Bart’s and Sir Hein’s weapons Ramirus. We’ll send them to their family. Hopefully there’s someone left to talk with us.”
“Talk Legatus?” Ramirus probed casually.
Lucius glared at him. “What else?”
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“You want to march on Eaglesnest?” Lucius asked his officers, an hour later in the war-council inside Redmond’s Hall. “We need to reinforce Sula, do we not?”
“Three Cohorts are ready to march in the next hour Legatus. A single Cohort can make the journey to Eaglesnest,” Trupo continued. “The majority of the guards were stripped from the city and Northwatch. This is a ripe opportunity to strike whilst the iron is hot.”
“A Cohort can’t take the city Prefect! Even peasants won’t be intimidated by it!” Lucius blasted him. “And we don’t need to attempt it at this point, the road south is open.”
“The Crulls will regroup in the winter,” Galio said cautiously. “Another chance may not come soon, not without cost in men for the Legion.”
“Galio lets save Sula first,” Lucius replied tiredly. “Then we can revisit this plan.”
“The summer is going away Legatus,” Governor Macrinus said. The robust man was still wearing his Legion armour. “The campaign must be concluded. It is what logic dictates.”
Lucius stared at him.
“Logic dictates a Cohort isn’t enough Macrinus,” he pointed out.
“I have a thousand spears,” Macrinus replied. “Mostly lads from Regia looking to get in the Legions. Dress them up with fancy armor and they’ll scare the piss out of civilians.”
“Are these for the City Guard?”
“No, the Guard gets the bottom of the barrel. Those are for the Kas Militia,” Macrinus explained. “A proper city must be able to field an army Legatus. Else that city will suck the cock of every army that comes to visit.”
“Right. We want workers for the roads and the constructions Governor. How about you concentrate on dealing with these matters and leave recruiting for those in the army?”
“I’ll use the prisoners for that,” Macrinus replied. “Work them to the bone, pay them with their freedom after the works are finished.”
“I didn’t give you the prisoners to turn them into slaves Governor!”
“No slaves,” Macrinus said crooking his square jaw indifferently. “Call it community service Legatus. It’s a city matter this. We’ll feed them, but they’ll work for it.”
Lucius realized the harsh ex-officer was right.
“I want to see them freed after they finish the Castrum and building the wall of the city.”
“And three Forts,” Macrinus added. “After they finish the road to the Dwarf’s Mines.”
“Have they found something?” Lucius asked him a little surprised.
“Copper and a vein of gold,” the Governor replied with a toothy smile. “Quite rich I hear. The City gets half of it for its coffers.”
> The Crulls one of the oldest Issir families almost got wiped out that day. While the whereabouts of Bas Crull are still a mystery until this day and is heavily contested whether he had died during the assault on the Legion’s Camp at Stag’s Doab, or made it out and was murdered near Kas, his death kept a secret in a wicked but unlikely cover-up.
>
> Some even suggest the infamous male heir to Eaglestnest might still be alive today and haunting the cold forests of his old domain.
>
>
> Herb the young son of late Sir Reggy was the last male in line for the Duchy’s throne, but a day after news reached the mountain city, the young boy expired within hours due to a sudden summer fever.
>
> Allegedly.
>
> Lady Sane Crull, Lord Bart’s only daughter, took over immediately. An enigmatic woman, some people consider a revered Seer today, or the devil incarnate. Much as these matters oft go, the truth is perhaps somewhere in the middle. She was thirty two at the time.
>
> Lucius hard-pressed for time decided to send Tribune Galio Veturius with two Cohorts to Eaglesnest, the Third and Fourth. Around a thousand men of the newly formed Kas Militia followed them, a force of over two thousand and five hundred men.
>
> Lucius himself led the First and Second Cohorts, followed by Kaeso’s Rangers, down the forest road after the Fourth Legion. A day and something later he found the slower part of the supply train at the edge of the thick trees narrow road and heard about the Paean in the Pines.
>
> Baron Palma had given a good look at the situation and decided it was a wrap, unless he could win his next engagement and dislodge the dug in Sula from the river and the bridge. He left a force of around five hundred to guard his flank from Valens and set up his restless forces for an early morning attack on the third day.
>
> During the night the news spread that the supply train was lost, even worst Northern Raiders had killed and raped anything that moved beyond Stad River and had set Halfostad on fire. The soldiers and petty officers asked Baron Palma to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, or prolong a fight with what would be a half-starving force in a couple of days and the well-read officer considered it.
>
> No one likes sleeping on an empty stomach, or without water at the near.
>
> He send a messenger to Sula early the morning of the third to gauge on the possibility of a truce, but Duke Redmond arrived with his Carls and Ley’s Boars ruining his plans. Upon learning of the catastrophe at Halfostad and the fate of their supply train the Duke went into a fit of rage.
>
> He walked out of the small tent furious–the Baron had two wagons of personal supplies now used by two thousand men- and ordered his Carls to smash through Sula’s Century whatever the cost.
>
> The Carls went at it an hour later, the sun chasing the morning mist away. They attacked twice, but it was like banging their heads against a steel wall, until the Duke almost came to blows with a reluctant Baron Palma to force him to throw Lesia’s better-trained troops into the fight.
>
> The Baron send the equivalent of an Issir regiment against Sula, around a thousand men, but got attacked on both sides not an hour later –around late noon- by Valens three Centuries from the side of the forest and Blondal Juter’s rejuvenated arriving Northern warriors.
>
> Given the numbers, Juter had about five or six hundred men with him and with Valens’ three hundred they matched the force Palma had send to block their advance and prevent them from overrunning his camp. The problem was that Valens was attacking from the west and Juter from the north. Palma with his force split and surrounded knew he was in a dire situation.
>
> Word reached the Lesia troops at the bridge, then engaged in the third assault of the day –it must be noted here that they had almost smashed through Sula’s heavily worn out Century by that time.
>
> Panic set in and they started retreating to protect their rear. The depleted Carls tried to hold out, but Mamercus Sorex’s battered slingers assaulted them with swords and knives from the sides –having run out of ammunition- and routed them.
>
> Mayhem ensued with troops returning towards Baron Palma’s defending force and soon the situation became untenable. The Baron pleaded with the shell-shocked Duke to spare the men and not throw any more lives in a lost battle. ‘The Tiger lost the war today,’ the Baron explained to him. ‘Lesia will make sure of it.’
>
> Whether the Baron’s words swayed the Duke, or not, it is unclear. He wasn’t happy about it for certain, but he also didn’t have the men or the stomach to remove the Baron and proceed with the battle. On the early morning of the fourth day of the battle, the Duke send a messenger wanting terms and Nonus Sula assumed a legendary status winning a battle with thrice less men than his opponent.
>
> ‘It was like the sound of a Paean,’ the legion’s scribe Dumont described it years later. ‘Amidst the Pine Trees.’
>
> Palma lost about three hundred men the third day on all fronts, a hundred and eighty killed mainly during Duke Redmond’s desperate and needless final assault, with the Duke’s Carls losing another two hundred and fifty, with a staggering two hundred and thirty of them killed.
>
> It is rumored Sula only had twenty men fit to stand on the shieldwall in the last assault, one hundred and eighty casualties, sixty nine killed. Mamercus Sorex lost another fifty of his slingers killed and had several dozen wounded. The Prefect sustained no less than three injuries in the fight, the one in his right leg leaving him with a slight limp for the next year.
Lucius rode into Valens camp on the afternoon of the fifth day, several hundred Northmen mixed in with the weary but jubilant legionnaires greeting him and proceeded towards Sula’s position at the bridge, the long rows of horse-drawn sledges bringing up the wounded and the funeral pyres still smoking, a testament to the heavy fighting that had transpired the previous days. He cast a glance at Lesia’s banners, the enemy camp huge in comparison and the piles of burned corpses even bigger and grimaced, his heart heavy.
Prefect Sula greeted him walking on a cane and bandaged on his head and right arm. He accepted the report from the aide and went over it in silence.
“Mamercus?” he asked hoarsely, feeling worn out as he’d slept on the saddle to make it in time. The fact that he was late gnawing at him.
“Not a scratch on him Legatus,” Sula reported, sounding like he’d swallowed a bucket full of gravel himself. The Prefect looked terrible, but kept his jaw clenched sensing Lucius scrutiny.
Lucius sighed and stared at the numbers.
“There isn’t an honor high enough to give praise to what you’ve accomplished here Prefect,” he started.
“It wasn’t perfect Legatus,” Sula rustled.
“There’s nothing perfect in war Sula,” Lucius said. “I take it protecting the road wasn’t an option?”
“Never thought of it Legatus,” Sula admitted. “I couldn’t win by staying put.”
“You could’ve lost the Legion, if Palma kept the men at the bridge where they were.”
“I’ve read the same books he did, through my father,” Sula replied. “I knew he wouldn’t and that he’d try to surround me instead.”
Lucius grunted and rubbed his unshaven face. Sula’s father had been killed during the Battle of the Turncoats, but he’d kept that report from him, not wanting the news burdening the newly promoted officer.
“What does the Duke want?” He asked instead.
“He’ll tell us himself, I reckon,” Sula replied. “The first things they asked for were food and water.”
“I want the Northmen kept away from the bridge and Halfostad,” Lucius said and pressed two fingers on his right temple to alleviate a headache. “What in Oras Hells happened there Prefect?”
Sula smacked his lips, keeping both his hands on his cane.
“Gerard’s Raiders attacked the supply train,” he replied. “They went overboard sir.”
Lucius kept reading at the report, whilst a throbbing started on his left temple even more persistent.
“Civilians killed, women defiled, mutilated. There are hundreds of heads tossed by the side of the road Prefect… HEADS!” Lucius growled and stood up glaring at the frowning Dumont. “Halfostad is still burning, there are reports of a thousand dead there as well!”
“The men never reached the city Legatus,” Sula corrected him tensely. “But I accept responsibility for the attack on the train.”
“Damn it Sula, did you order it?” Lucius asked crooking his mouth. “What am I to say to the Duke? Or to the Baron? I have no moral ground to stand on!”
“Apologies Legatus, but I haven’t ordered anything of the sort,” Sula spat affronted.
“Where’s Gerard?” Lucius grunted. “I had him warned, he’s done it this time.”
“Gerard was injured during the raid,” Sula replied and stood up with a grimace of pain. “But I have arrested the men present there.”
“How many?”
“Sixty.”
Lucius sighed. “Gerard is popular with the Nords, these are his boys. I will need to think of an appropriate punishment without creating even more friction.”
“With all due respect Legatus, this is a matter of the Fourth. That’s my banner over there,” Sula said and set his jaw. “The punishment is known.”
Lucius stared at him alarmed.
“These men were a loan from the Third Prefect.”
“These men fought with the Fourth Legatus,” Sula replied and returned his stare. “Marched with us, won with us and they’ll get punished for breaking the rules. We’ve the same treatment for officers and soldiers alike here.”
“What’s the punishment?” Lucius asked him wearily.
“There’re Five Gods in this Realm for each one of us,” Sula replied and tended his arm to accept a scroll from his aide. “Per the ancient Legion laws and the traditions of yer ancestor Lucius the First, the Unforgiving. One in five Legatus.”
Fuck.
“You can’t be serious,” Lucius gasped eyeing the rigid Dumont. “You’ll kill one in five? How many are we talking about?”
Dumont cleared his throat and stepped forward.
“Twelve,” he replied. “Plus Gerard who asked to be executed alongside them. We decided to hold the execution until the Duke’s arrival. It would give ye the moral ground milord.”
Lucius felt sick to his stomach.
“I don’t want Gerard executed,” Lucius croaked. “It’s important to have Nords in positions of power.”
“You could rescind the order Legatus,” Sula replied. “But it will compromise the integrity of my command and the Fourth’s honor. A Legion must govern its internal affairs.”
“You’ll refuse my order?” Lucius grunted.
“Never Legatus,” Sula retorted. “But I earned the right to speak out, the moment you gave me command of the Fourth my lord. It is my opinion you’ve done it on purpose, as you expect me to offer a different point of view than yourself. You need someone to challenge your orders, so you don’t become complacent.”
“You’ve earned your rank as well, it wasn’t given” Lucius yielded with a grimace, knowing he was right. “I do need someone who isn’t afraid to speak his mind Sula. But I can’t have you kill Gerard, I can barely stomach to watch twelve men getting cut down before I talk to the Duke.”
“I’ll talk with Gerard, Legatus,” Sula said. “But I can’t promise you anything.”
Lucius scrunched his face and tossed the reports on the table. “You did me a great service Sula,” he said and reached with his arm to touch the Prefect’s bandaged shoulder. “I shan’t forget it.”
“The men did most of the work my lord,” Sula replied with a grimace.
Lucius nodded and stepped back. “I hate to say this Sula, but it is time to tell the Duke I’ll see him. But give me another day to rest my bones. It’s the last thing I want. Gods, this could turn very ugly.”
Sula blinked and glanced at him. “He’s a prisoner my lord. A disgraced loser that ordered men to their death, watching from the sidelines,” the officer rustled. “The way I see it he’s the one with no ground to stand on. You owe him nothing.”
Lucius thought of Macia breathing her last, but decided not to reply.
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BA-TA DUM
The marching snare drums kept the same monotonous tempo, like the sound of a giant heart beating very slow, but impossibly loud.
BA-TA DUM
The legionnaires were standing at attention at the center of the jointed camp with full battle gear on, the two Cohorts of the Third Legion and the single Cohort of the Fourth Legion. Sorex’s Slingers, Kaeso and Pike’s Rangers and Long’s Cavalry without their horses.
Blondal Juter’s bearded Northmen were watching from the far edge of the oblong square, clad in their hides and mail, more axes than swords between them.
The Lesia Regulars were standing opposing the legionnaires still in their expensive scaled plated armour over white thick gambesons and tunics. Baron Palma had his at least one thousand five hundred soldiers surrender their weapons, his force bloodied but relatively intact, considering the Duke’s Carls were numbering a mere hundred scowling warriors, most of them injured.
BA-TA DUM
The thirteen men kneeled at the center of this awkward gathering of different armies were Nords. They had their chests bare, skin turning a pale bronze color in the light of the setting sun. One of them the Legatus recognized immediately despite his bandaged maimed head.
Lucius clenched his jaw and glared at the merciless face of Sula. The injured Prefect had ditched his cane for the occasion and stood rigid next to him and Trupo. The drums kept at their monotonous ominous tempo, everyone watching tensed as thirteen legionnaires of the Fourth spilled out of the ranks and unsheathing their swords walked towards the condemned raiders.
Lucius breathed once deep, his eyes stopping on the greyish red head of the Duke of Sovya and his austere leather redingote, under his chainmail shirt. He hadn’t seen the Duke since the day Sovya’s delegation had arrived to collect the cocooned rotting body of his daughter, in the summer of eighty three. Seven years to the day. The skinny man returning his stare had shockingly aged since, but the hatred in his green and gold eyes still lingered, burning with the same passion.
BA-TA DUM
The legionnaires took position behind the subdued raiders, swords tips aimed down towards the naked trapezoid muscle ready to plunge in to the hilt. The manner of execution explained in the Legion’s manual handed down two centuries ago by another Lucius. A King and a Legatus.
A violent man that had carved a kingdom out of the Lorian Lords lands defeating one after the other. King Lucius the First, had ruled for forty eight years, twenty four of them before the new calendar started. He had died in the distant 24 NC to be succeeded by a series of Kings Lucius could recite from memory. A game forced on him by his tutors. Lucius the unforgiving, Caius the unlucky, Titus who thought Gish were lucky, Lucius again, Ralph, Jeremy, Titus two, stalwart Alistair and …Jeremy I guess.
“We live by the rules of the book,” Sula boomed, snapping him out of his reverie. “We keep to a schedule, never waver on our tasks and never look for an easy out. We use the sword we're issued to kill our enemies, the pickaxe to break the ground and carve a road to walk on! We are brethren in arms, we do not seek excuses, for we know what’s right and by Gods we know what is bloody wrong! We afford the same punishment to friends and foes, because we know better. You err, you pay the blood price. That’s the way of things. Think afore you act and don’t expect mercy, when the manual provides none. For anyone. It does speak of crimes like those committed by these men and provides a remedy. Why? Because when a large body of men falls for the same fallacy, we don’t burn the whole field. We are the field! We’re the fucking army. There are laws for everything. This is the Law of the Five,” he glared at the waiting soldiers, the silence inside the camp eerie, broken by some of the condemned sad muffled cries. Lucius felt an ulcer forming in his stomach. Sula crooked his mouth and added the final order without an ounce of pity. “Proceed!”
BA-TA DUM
Lucius gasped, but kept his composure, until the bloody bodies were carried away and Sula turned towards him, looking worn out and pale despite his prior performance.
“A craven man, should lead no one,” Sula rustled, scrunching his square jaw this way and that. “Gerard’s last words my lord.”
Lucius nodded.
“He was no coward,” he noted with difficulty.
“He wasn’t,” Nonus Sula agreed and that was that.
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Gripa stood rigid afore the cover of his commander’s tent, Sula resting on a chair on his right shoulder, the cane between his legs and next to him Trupo poring over reports about casualties and weapons gathered in the field. The latter as important for the Legion’s coffers. Ramirus was standing on his left shoulder keeping notes.
“Legatus,” his aide reported. “Baron Palma and Lord Jakub Redmond the Duke of Sovya, with their entourage, are waiting for an audience,” Gripa paused unsure for a moment. Lucius hadn’t seen him for a day almost, as he’d gone to Lesia’s camp to arrange the details of the meeting. They had to keep the camps sort of separated –despite them being side by side- given the large number of men not liking each other involved. “There was an arrest earlier today,” Gripa continued. “Near the Stad River Bridge, but the matter was resolved fortunately for all parties.”
Hmm. Alright then.
“Eh, fine Gripa,” Lucius replied unsure what to make of it. “Send them in,” he added with a nervous glance at Ramirus. The intelligence officer stooped his way and whispered so only Lucius could hear.
“A noble woman with her escort,” Ramirus said and before an uneasy Lucius could grasp his meaning, the tent’s cover was pushed aside and the Duke, his young aide, Baron Palma and a perfect copy of an older Macia entered inside.
You think it’s over? His dead wife whispered in his ear.
Fuck.
“Lucius,” Duke Redmond spat seeing him stunned into silence. “You know Martha.”