>
> The warm waves darkened the gold sands, making froth were they touched the short white-marble fence, the bronze oil lamps running the length of it and sending their bright light across the beach before the lavish estate.
>
> Sirio removed his glasses and blinked once, trying to read without them from his notes. There was a finished version of his story, but he always went back at it, looking for things he’d missed the first time, or simply gotten wrong. He used the burning candle to lit the rest of them, but more light, while it drove away the shadows from their veranda, didn’t reveal anything more from his scribbling.
>
> But for her approaching him while distracted that is.
>
> “They’ll never let your words reach the people,” Maja told him and she looked contentedly old now, her spell losing its potency with time.
>
> Still lovely to his eyes.
>
> Maja smiled and placed her rough hand on his softly.
>
> “Each King will have a version, or chapter he likes presented, hide the rest,” she whispered, voice accompanied by the sound of the nearby sea. “The one most insulted won’t hesitate to have your head.”
>
> “I think we both escaped that fate,” Sirio reminded her sourly.
>
> “He hasn’t,” his wife countered. “You keep making changes, don’t. People love their heroes, leave it be.”
>
> “Heroes fall,” Sirio replied. “Some they weren’t heroes to begin with.”
>
> Maja sighed and got up with a grimace of pain. Humidity bothered her lately and she favored her right side when walking, but Sirio didn’t want to bring it up. Keep your worries to yourself, if you can’t offer a solution.
>
> Stuff one learns on the road, outside a library’s embrace.
>
> “You loved that bastard,” she told him reading his aged face. “But you knew all along what was going on. There are no innocent parties in a war dear. That’s the family game.”
>
> “Kids are,” Sirio murmured not looking at her. “And there is still right and wrong.”
>
> “That’s you, trying to play the knight you never were. I’ve read your stories dear.”
>
> “Maybe I’m having trouble sifting through all the lies!”
>
> “Does it matter?” Maja snapped, losing her temper. “We’re together twenty years! Never questioned a thing about you! You think I don’t know?”
>
> She covered her face immediately regretting her outburst.
>
> “What was the truth? What was the other half of the lie?” Sirio asked her keeping his eyes on the well-lit beach, a little hurt and equally ashamed. “Did you have her daughter killed? Our son’s sister?”
>
> Maja kept staring into his face, until he was forced to look at her.
>
> Good gods.
>
> “What if he founds out?” He croaked.
>
> “He won’t,” Maja replied sternly. “Not all truths come out dear. Not all truths are good. Some will destroy your life, ruin your future, or have you killed.”
>
> “I think I’m going to get sick,” Sirio murmured.
>
> “Eh, have some wine, take a walk to the sea front,” Maja told him a little frustrated. “Close the drapes on your return, leave the sheet on my side and remember witnesses are your real enemy. That’s what doomed him, a momentary lapse of judgement, an act of pity, not gods. Not words and not thoughts, or a boy’s dreams of adventure and mysteries. Let Silvio do what he loves in life unafraid. Much smarter people than you have taken care of everything else.”
[https://i.imgur.com/cW2P5ml.jpg]
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Legatus Lucius Alden
Lord Nattas Man
Part II
-People don’t care about all that-
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The Third Legion’s permanent Castrum at the city of Kas grew out of the city’s south walls and gradually became the strongest part of its fortifications. The internal gates leading to ‘Little Sovya’, or the East Sector of the developing city and Redmond’s Hall, while the heavy stone external gates faced south towards the Bloody Ridge road and the path leading to the Dwarven Mines. The Gold Mine located on the west side of the mountain and the larger Bronze Mines carved out on the east.
The stone instead of timber camp itself, build around the prominent Commander’s Headquarters building, a three story high robust square tower. It had service buildings and warehouses behind it, sixteen large legionnaire stone barracks at its front placed in two rows, the large parade road between them leading to the gates.
As Galio had said not impressed, this is like a copy of the Legion’s home at Anorum, but with a smaller budget.
This is the Third Legion’s home Tribune. Only future will tell if it gets another, Lucius had reminded him.
Budget though is a problem and it isn’t small at all, Lucius thought, rubbing his tired eyes. The Legatus hadn’t slept that well as Faye wanted Roderick kept near her and that had invited Canutia into their home to take some of the load off of her. With Gripa present as well, plus the messengers from the army, the city and the restless Roderick always willing to wake everyone up, it wasn’t easy to find any shuteye. Lucius had taken the habit of sleeping in the camp during the day for a couple of hours and away from the city, but being in camp meant military or civilian matters and war council reports found him sooner.
“Macrinus protests Sula’s request for additional weapons from the armory Legatus Augustus,” Prefect Trupo reported reading from a foot-high pile of scrolls and parchments, another two waiting their turn as high as his left shoulder.
“Sula is recruiting for the Fourth,” Lucius noted and glanced at Vibius Ramirus, the LID officer scribbling something on his own stack of papers before adding to Lucius voiceless query.
“Macrinus believes Lady Martha is chewing the ear of the Legatus of the Fourth on the need to rearm Halfostad as well,” Ramirus said. “Word is, she is wearing him down Augustus.”
“Perhaps allowing her to visit Halfostad was premature?” Trupo suggested and Lucius stared at him, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Martha had to go Prefect. She wanted to and her presence brought extra tension into my household,” Lucius replied. “I value my wife’s concerns more than Sula’s nerves. He’s resilient enough to handle her, while I am not,” he turned to the intelligence officer. “What’s the reasoning for her pressing Sula for weapons?”
“A fear of Lesia obviously,” Ramirus replied. “The Jarl’s people returning.”
“They won’t,” Lucius assured him. “Not through our land. Not right now. If they are smart they’ll never make war again, but I don’t believe they are. We’ll deal with that problem when it arrives, if it arrives, but not sooner. As for Lesia I’m not certain they’ll risk a war in Sovya so soon. The Duke keeps trade open with them, we are not interfering there and Lesia needs timber, iron and hides. They won’t risk the trade routes and a landing at Kadrek is too risky.”
Lucius walked to the large map table and stared at it for a while, the officers standing up and following him there.
“Lord Holt’s herald is still in the city?” He asked.
“I don’t see him leaving afore winter’s end,” Trupo replied. “He sent three missives in a week to Asturia.”
“We might need some of his birds,” Lucius said thoughtfully. “What was his report about?”
“Troop numbers, the general situation in the city and the fact you are married Legatus,” Ramirus replied, having read the Duke’s correspondence.
“Anything weaved in the words?” Lucius queried with a frown, as Bernard’s man more accurately, probably knew about Ramirus spying on him. “This has Bernard’s fingers all over it.”
“The Duke’s youngest son?” Ramirus asked. “Ahm, I couldn’t glean anything more Legatus.”
“Isn’t Sir Rupert next in line?” Trupo noted, blond trimmed moustache rising in a smile.
“Sir Rupert is a fine knight, but no leader,” Lucius elucidated, remembering the always slightly overweight noble. “So yes to your answer, but Bernard has the brains in the family.”
“What about his daughters?” Trupo asked, who had an eye for noble ladies despite it being the reason he got kicked out of the First Legion. “Plenty of brains there too,” he added quickly seeing Lucius’ reproachful glare.
“Lady Anne is married to Baron Clifford Prior of Anorum,” Lucius told him a warning tone in his voice. “And Lady Monica well, I have no idea what she’s being up to.”
“What would be Lord Holt’s worry?” Ramirus asked to steer the conversation away. “Would Van Calcar risk a confrontation over the Cattle Fields with the High King incapacitated and his heir in a cradle?”
“Regia is poised to strike at Lord Holt,” Lucius said returning his attention on a map of the northern routes. “It is a good time to be bold for him.”
“Would the Lakelords agree on this?” Trupo asked.
“Impossible to know,” Lucius admitted. “They never agree to anything, nor are they the best of neighbors.”
“Lord Holt needs to keep his attention on Jeremy’s reaction,” Trupo insisted. “Van Calcar’s man seemed nigh pleased for the caravans going through again.”
“Hmm,” Lucius murmured and stared at Gripa listening in to their conversation. “Holt is cornered and Lord Sula isn’t in a better situation. If we are to make something of it gents, we need to move pieces on this board and relieve some of that pressure.”
“We’ll have to guess whether Lesia would strike at us or not Legatus,” Trupo reminded him. “And guess right.”
What would King Davenport do? Lucius thought his frown deepening, some of the wrinkles on his forehead permanent. He has to think of the Bank’s interests and the Wine Barons abhorrence for anything that disturbs trade. The Duke of Sovya won’t act against us with Martha on our side and he won’t anger Lesia further. He’ll keep the sea route open. A landing would disrupt that and it’s a risky affair. It can succeed, but then you’re stranded again with the fear of another Halfostad looming over your head. You can’t support a campaign from the Northern Sea against both us and the Jarl’s forces.
His eyes roamed over the mountains, the impregnable mountain range separating Lesia from the Duchy, Uher’s Throne Heights. The high rises ever spilling southwards and turning into the Stonemaze Peaks first and then the massive Four Sisters Mounts, their westernmost reach ending at the sources of the River Mabindon and the road to Cartagen. Close by the Tricorn Heights started deep in Regia, but there was a split there cutting through the mountains, the canyons leading north towards the Lorian Plains and Islandport and northeast through the peaks, towards the flat fertile virgin forests between the great Framtond River’s tributaries and its sources.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
The greenest spot in all of Regia.
Unclaimed land by man.
Asturias soft underbelly.
“Have Durio’s engineers finished the new legion road over the mountains, afore my father recalled them?” Lucius asked his officers.
“I don’t believe they have Legatus,” Trupo replied evenly, trying to figure out what his thought process was. “The canyon paths are bad for caravans. Everyone cuts through the plains and Islandport still.”
“If a Legio engineer can go through, then an army can,” Lucius replied thoughtfully. “Lord Caxaton is an academy educated man yes?”
“I believe so,” Trupo replied in a guarded manner. “King Davenport hasn’t named a Lord Shield yet.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucius replied. “This is a military problem, he’ll put an expert on it. It’s how Lesia does things. You hire the best man for the task at hand. Who has Lord Caxaton’s ear?”
“Ettore Pintor,” Ramirus replied. “Risen through the ranks of the First Legio, was let go by Lord Lennox after the ‘Warbands Rebellion’ for employing tactics unbecoming an officer, rehired by Lord Caxaton and installed as a Prefect according to most recent reports.”
“I remember him,” Lucius said reminiscing. “He was basically the Bank’s liaison at the war councils. Employed those mercenary companies right?”
“Ordered the assault over the Drek River near Kadrek behind enemy lines. It is believed Baron Theodore Hermon of Parmaport and commander of the Iron Fist, led the operation without consulting with the army command that was marching from Yepehir. Ley’s Rangers and the Three Hundred were involved heavily in the affair.”
“Aye,” Lucius remembered. “Lear Hik, another hired killer. They were stripped of their positions though. Pintor, Hik, I may forget someone. Not Baron Hermon though, he pays for the unit out of his pocket.”
“The Bank’s pockets,” Ramirus noted. “All these men have the same boss Legatus.”
Lucius nodded agreeing. “Now Pintor is back in charge of the Second Legion, which means we must assume his old friends are brought in as well. Ley’s Rangers we already faced, Sula did that is. What would Pintor and his gang suggest Lord Caxaton should tell the King?”
Ramirus stood back and watched Lucius dragging his finger on the map from Cediorum, to the Alesian Fort following the coastal road, pause at the junction, a leg leading to Cartaport and the other ever north through the Vine Fields of Flauegran hugging the mountains towards the legion road.
Another junction there, he thought.
Lesia has a Legion now, enough spears to pull it off.
With no supply issues, wagons coming up beautifully paved road and good weather.
“Lord Holt could abandon Islandport and retreat behind the Framtond River,” Trupo said realizing what Lucius was suggesting. “You can’t force a crossing with an army waiting at the other bank, even if you take that bridge.”
“An army can have a bridge built fifty kilometers upriver, or a hundred, make a crossing there, where it’s undefended,” Lucius explained. “And a Lord can’t abandon his land and subjects as easy as you make it appear. I don’t believe Lord Holt can stomach losing Islandport and I can’t see how he can guard the lengthiest river in Regia to its sources.”
“My Lord?” Trupo queried anxiously. “Jeremy would never allow Lesia to cross into his territory. He’ll risk bringing an army next to the capital? Nobody adheres to the treaties anymore, it’s every man for himself. What's the biggest price here? What stops Caxaton from veering west and hitting Cartagen?”
Lucius sighed and stood back from the maps, his answer one word.
“Nothing.”
Had he been in Lord Caxaton’s shoes, Lucius would have gone for Regia’s capital as well and secure that the resources of the Lorian Gulf and its two bigger port cities belonged to Lesia.
With Jeremy busy dealing with Lord Sula and Lord Holt, Regia’s borders were wide open.
Put revenge on one side, everlasting glory paired with riches on the other, he thought, a knot in his stomach. See which way the scales point you.
Now that is a rich enough target to make a King interested.
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Lucius spent the rest of his day in the camp, first meeting with Optio Durio, who gave him an update on the paving of the road towards Gudgurth Fort, the most difficult of the public works the Third Legion had undertaken. Centurion Sid Toma was still at it in the field despite the worsening weather and the heavy cold of the Northern Winter. Durio told him that they had to dig out and widen the Screaming Road, the work here more difficult than back in Regia’s mountains. The natural canyons there broader, but not without dangers.
He briefly met with the dwarfs Bonearm and Onyxminer next, the Guild master visiting Kas to talk with the latter and newest member of the Elders Council. Onyxminer had to attend a Council Meeting next as a matter of fact, with Regan Booth and Mark Walsh, so Lucius returned to the city with him and Marc Gripa. Governor Macrinus who chaired the meeting, summarily rejected Walsh’s proposal to preserve some of the forest facing the legion camp and the road to the mines citing ‘security reasons’. Lucius, who had agreed on the flattening of the terrain beforehand to set up farms and drastically increase the meat production of the city without relying on hunting as much, recognized the timber mogul’s complains and promised to look for a better plan of action.
He wouldn’t as it wasn’t in his list of priorities, but made a note to utilize Halfostad’s market and forests equally, as the Legion’s work-groups had almost stripped the surrounding area of material. First the stone piles had been exhausted and now it appeared trees and animals were threatened as well. Macrinus also kept recruiting for the army, despite the Third reaching its maximum size in Lucius original plans. The Governor called this new unit of regulars ‘just some city of Kas guards to man the forts and patrol its borders’, but the Legatus quickly realized Macrinus was working on a future timetable that didn’t have the Third’s patrols helping him. It appeared that like a living organism the different parts of the rapidly expanding army, given the freedom to act on their own, were working to create the foundations for further expansions.
Everything has its use, Lucius mused Tyeus words, returning to Redmond’s Hall at nightfall. A tool will think of harvest and a weapon dream of war.
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Faye smelled of spiced mead and honey, the Northern woman smacking his armoured chest after kissing his mouth fiercely. The punch landing cleanly.
“Eh,” Lucius protested. “I should have you arrested my Lady,” he told her with a smile. “For assaulting a superior officer.”
“Hmm, not in here you aren’t,” Faye retorted and eyed Gripa standing rigid at the door. “We won’t be needing you mister Gripa.”
“Allow the man to have a meal first,” Lucius told her and looked about them. “Where’s the little one?”
“Sleeping with Canutia,” Faye replied and blew her cheeks out. “Keep your voices down.”
“Gripa is like a mute, right my good Aide?” Lucius grinned and reached for a chair to collapse on, pulling a barely protesting Faye into his lap.
Gripa nodded, but said nothing.
“I have mead,” Faye offered, solving him that small mystery. “Logan brought it from his friends at Fenford Burg. A couple of big barrels worth of it, but Layton somehow managed to drink one all by himself on the road and not die.”
“Where’s is he?” Lucius asked her a little concerned and heard the guards outside knock on their door.
“Sleeping in the stables. Logan thought of moving him, but no one volunteered to shoulder the load,” Faye replied giggling, but her smile waned seeing Ramirus entering and walking briskly their way. “It’s late,” she told him austerely. “Go away, he just came back curse ye.”
“Faye,” Lucius told her clearing his throat. “Let the officer give his report.”
“Lady Faye, my apologies,” Ramirus bowed his head to the frowning redhead, checked to see no one was listening in from the top of the internal stairs, afore getting immediately to the point.
“The Tribune is back,” the intelligence officer reported. Galio was with the engineers inspecting their work on the road. “With Decanus Kato,” Ramirus added.
“Fine,” Faye retorted wanting to get this over with.
“The men are back?” Lucius asked and allowed a murmuring Faye to stand up from his lap. She had gone back to her leather pants the moment that extra weight was gone, but Roderick kept her firmly away from the dangerous activities she loved, which was helping on one hand Lucius focus on the logistics of the coming campaign, but made her very restless on the other.
“The men are days behind them,” Ramirus stated. “The Tribune had a visitor from Regia. A close kin apparently. It was an emotional meeting the word around the men is, mostly for the ‘Old Oak’.”
Huh, Lucius thought surprised.
“Anything else?” he probed. “Is that the reason Kato’s back ahead of his column?”
“I don’t want to speculate Legatus, but I don’t believe it,” Ramirus replied evenly. “The Tribune asked for an urgent meeting and knowing you’ve retired for the evening, I’ve set it up for early on the morrow.”
Lucius stood back alarmed.
“I’ll see him right away,” he finally said and Faye gasped in frustration. Lucius grimaced, feeling guilty about it, but if Galio wanted to talk with him then he’d a reason for it. He knew the old officer for a long time now to trust his judgement. “Make it happen Ramirus,” he ordered with finality and the young industrious subordinate saluted sharply afore walking away.
“You fear something bad happened?” Faye asked him and touched his shoulder.
“I can’t rule if I’m scared, or hide from news Red,” Lucius replied tiredly. “We’ll have that mead now. Gripa I know you favor chamomile, but let’s not mix flavors today.”
“I’ll get on it milord with Lady Faye’s permission,” Gripa replied.
“Pfft, just do it,” Faye grunted shaking her head. “Make no noise though, or yer singing lullabies. It’s a bloody all-nighter.”
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Ramirus returned an hour later, Roderick now in Faye’s arms protesting fiercely and twisting this way and that, for not being allowed to roll on the conference table and make a mess of it. Galio’s grey head came after him, followed by a pale bookish man, wearing an expensive southern-style coat and boots. Decanus Kato, covered in mud and carrying something in a wrapped up blanket, stood further back trying to clean himself up away from scrutiny.
Lucius eyes went from Galio to the young Lorian, the man’s hair oiled and combed judiciously, parting perfectly in the middle.
“Tribune,” he started, placing a hand on the table in front of him. “You have us worried here.”
“Apologies milord,” Galio said stepping forward. “I have the pleasure to introduce my nephew Sirio, me sister’s kid,” the veteran officer said sounding moved and Lucius nodded at the blushing young man. Sirio seemed between twenty and twenty-five years of age. “I have spoken of him to you afore,” Galio continued with a grimace of discomfort. The old officer felt more comfortable in the field than in a lord’s hall.
“You have,” Lucius helped him out. “You bring us news of Regia mister Sirio?”
“Lord Lucius,” Sirio said and bowed deeply as if they were in a court. “I’m elated to make your acquaintance. I’m here at the behest of Lord Nattas.”
Lucius thought he’d recognized the curtsy from somewhere.
Lord Nattas Man.
Why sent Galio’s relative my cunning friend?
What are you up to Storm?
“How is our good Lord Nattas?”
“I don’t have any current news my Lord,” Sirio replied stiffly.
The lad isn’t forthcoming, Lucius thought, but he didn’t want to press him in front of the old man. Touché Storm. Roderick’s lessons rubbed off on you.
“Eh,” Galio intervened. “The lad is nervous,” he said, looking at Lucius apologetically. “Tell him about the sword Sirio.”
Lucius stood up straighter, his eyes turning to a nervous Kato, who froze, a boot scrapping against the floor to clean some of the mud off, afore snapping to attention. The sneaky Decanus put some extra oomph to it to get the rest of the material off his boots.
“I’m listening mister Sirio,” Lucius said, his eyes on the sweating Decanus.
“Lord Nattas tasked me with bringing your father’s sword to you my Lord,” Sirio said simply, a touch of haughtiness in his voice.
Imperial Wetull steel, King Alistair said, his voice an intimidating snarl and a younger Lucius raised his head to stare in his father’s hardened face. Doesn’t break against other metals. Its secrets in the forging, in the skill of the maker and their magic. An unworthy man won’t make a good wielder though, the King of Regia continued, nor elevate a poor fighter over a great one, eight times out of ten, but people don’t care about all that. They’ll pronounce the man who holds it a king and be done with it.
“Bring it here Decanus,” Lucius grunted standing up, Roderick cooing when Kato unwrapped Endariel and allowed its sound to resonate inside the Hall for a long moment. The Legatus touched the ever warm familiar handle for a moment, his eyes closed and heart heavy with childhood memories.
The images coming and going fast in his mind, feasts, hunts and tourneys. Ralph sneaking into his room sword in hand and tossing it on his bed, a furious Roderick following right behind him giving him an earful and a couple of solid cuffs upside the head. His mother’s chuckle and his father’s boasts in a frozen field, before sending the cheering army forward the exotic sword in his hand.
May Luthos guide you, through the pending struggles my son.
Come back safe.
For Regia.
Those were Alistair’s last words to a younger Lucius before sending him away.
Lucius took the long gleaming blade with a steady hand and raised it high over his head, the sword humming softly and a young Roderick chuckling elated at the spectacle.
“The King’s sword,” Ramirus announced somberly, loud enough for all to hear. “In the rightful ruler’s hand. All Hail, Praetor Lucius! The King of Regia!”
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