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Decanus Lucas Kato
Half a bridge
Part II
-Fake wall is same as no wall-
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> Early in the year 192 of the New Calendar, probably the first week of the second month of winter, Federico Mclean authorized the President of the Bank of Trust Claus Viceroy, to accept the King’s Council first draft for Act ‘White Carta’ and give operational control of the two mercenary outfits they permanently employed to the crown.
>
> The Council had met several times under the leadership of rich Duke Luke Andal of Andatelia and his Shield Lord Caxaton, lord commander of the Second Legion. The ‘lords beyond Andalus River’ had been the driving force behind the meetings. Especially High Baron Persival Borginas of the distant but important castle city of Conium, as he had suffered the most with the situation in Kadrek. Lord Cornelius Mortymer, Lesia’s Master of Silence and friend to Jacomo D’Orsi the High Baron of Atetalerso, worked tirelessly to convince Duke Osmund Frye of Dokamna, Lesia’s Master of Horses, to agree to the plan. High Baron Theodore Hermon was given overall command of the mercenaries since Armando Ley assumed some of the blame for the disaster in Sovya and Baron Palma was still held prisoner in Kas.
>
> The plan had two objectives. Gain control of Oras Navel at the mouth of the Stonemaze Peaks deep in Regia’s wilderness, all the way to the sources of Framtond. Force a crossing there, near Asturia’s remote underbelly, then hold the position until the other objective was successful. The idea was that if the first two goals were successful then a push to Anorum next would open a land route to the North again. But this just couldn’t happen before at least the year 195 according to most calculations. It was generally agreed that Lucius alliance would collapse if Sovya was threatened from two fronts and Asturia was sandwiched between Lesia and the Lakelords.
>
> The known military strategists and Instructors at the Academy of Armium Jan Mantel and Yani Fiorin had agreed that at least a year was needed to secure both original objectives. Factoring in any potential mishaps, they decided that two summers was adequate time for the task and submitted their final proposal to the Council. It was to be picked up eventually under the early name ‘Mantel & Fiorin’ plan, what later became ‘Act of White Carta’.
>
> Baron Hermon marched hard through Flauegran, with Leys Boars ahead of him, reached the Old Fort and overwhelmed the garrison in a night attack. He waited for the Second Legion under acting ‘Legatus’ Ettore Pintor to catch up with him, released control of the fort at the junction of the New Legion Road to the arriving Legion and continued towards Oras Navel. He got bogged down in the narrow mountain path and the unfinished part of the road, so he send Captain Leys men ahead of his. Hermon faced difficulties getting his supply train through the difficult terrain, but kept at it under constant pressure from First Agent James Viceroy, son of the President of the Board Claus Viceroy who had married Diana Merck, one of the Bank of Trust’s largest shareholders.
>
> Leys Boars and two engineering firms, the Crafts of Cediorum and the Soners of Dokamna reached Framtond’s first tributary and begun construction of a bridge there immediately. The plan was to cross to the Groin, tame and flatten the terrain and built a second bridge over the second tributary gaining access beyond Framtond. It was believed that given the remoteness of the place and with Regia’s mind on more important developments, no one would understand what was happening until Dokamna could send heavy reinforcements up the path. The King’s Regulars had moved to Cediorum already but were held back in reserve for the Second Legion’s more vital operation.
>
> As Claus Viceroy concluded in a letter to Lord Mortymer read in Court, ‘we want to have fifty percent success here your grace. If half the plan comes to fruition we’ll be the winners, but we shall of course make certain it is the half we prefer and not leave it to chance.’
>
> Which in turn translated from ‘court tongue’ and put in proper context didn’t bode that well for Lord Hermon. His Iron Fists were the distraction and not Lesia’s main objective.
Kato’s command
(1st Maniple-First Cohort, 3rd Legio, First & Second Anorum)
-Second week, first month of Fall-
Operation Day 152
West banks of Framtond
The flatlands, three hundred meters from the bridge
Eleven kilometers from the mountain path slopes
-Battle of the Half Bridge-
Center
“Here they come!” Baldock yelled running back as fast as he could to reach their lines. Kato’s Maniple holding from the edge of the stone wall, the First Anorum under Damian Tarsus behind the latter and Leo Brevis Second Anorum keeping inside the birch forest on their north flank where the wall’s other side ended.
Kato could see the blocks of soldiers marching down the flattened terrain obliquely, the Iron Fists yellow and black banners flapping in the chilly breeze. He counted furrowing his brow, Mede nervously bumping his helm on his shield a meter to his right. Two hundred plus per block. One, two. Three.
Mouldy boots.
“The fuck are they going?” Kato grunted glancing to his right. He spotted Decanus Tarsus sprinting towards their shieldwall, the mud splashing as high as his thighs. “Send a runner Tarsus!” Kato barked at the Anorum officer. A stocky man nearing forty.
“More coming down the ridge from the mountain pass sir,” Tarsus reported breathing heavy and handed him a spyglass. “They are not coming here.”
“The bridge is right behind us Tarsus!” Kato blasted him and looked through the spyglass.
“Our bridge sir,” Tarsus replied gruffly.
“Uhm,” Kato murmured seeing more mercenaries lined up on the sloped road coming from the distant mountain pass. “They have a blasted city up there, what the hells?” He griped and turned his attention on the marching towards the forested part starting just before the River Groin first square of Lesia mercenaries.
“Mede any word from Kaeso?” Kato asked turning to the legionnaire.
“Nothing since yester’ morning.”
“What was the word then?”
“They were going for the bridge. The other bridge,” Mede replied with a grimace.
“Tarsus pull your men from the wall,” Kato grunted seeing where this was going. “You are going to march to this side of the Groin as well.”
“Down the bank sir?” Tarsus asked fully aware of being outnumbered heavily.
“We’ll give them something to attack,” Kato replied. “Hope they bite and keep some of them spears off yer boys.”
“Decanus Primus,” Tarsus saluted, fist on chest and sprinted back to his men.
“Who’s going to guard the wall?” Mede asked casually and Kato glared at him frustrated.
“It’s a wall. They probably don’t see behind it,” he retorted. “Get the lads moving… ehm, twenty meters. Bang them shields Mede so they take notice!”
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Two of the square blocks of mercenaries paused seeing the legionnaires coming out of their ‘fortifications’ and turned to face them. The wall the engineers had prepared just over a meter with earth packed on one side and crooked as a stray dog’s cock. Durio was due to arrive that afternoon to see what the holdup was with his own eyes.
“There,” Kato grunted glancing south over his shoulder to see Tarsus men marching in the misty wilderness towards the bend of the river. “Root shields Mede, prepare to hurl javelins.”
“ROOT SHIELDS!” Mede boomed, the thudding boots of the approaching mass of armoured soldiers reaching them. “OPEN RANKS! SECOND ROW, JAVELINS!”
The Lesia soldiers stalled their approach, men raising shields across from them, a closed black fist painted over yellow background and their ringmail cuirass over boiled dark-yellow leather armour appearing a dark beige in the cloudy day.
With a roar coming from the skies above the clouds turned to rain.
Fuck.
“LOOSE!” Mede barked at the top of his lungs and the soldiers facing them cried out ducking under their shields coming to a complete stop.
“CHARGE!” Their officer bellowed hoarsely after the horrifying barrage that left at least ten of them dead and as many out of the line with shocking injuries.
“Close ranks!” Kato barked at the same breath and then the two lines made contact.
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Ardas rushed forward from the third row, Salle and Baldock after him along two lads from Anorum. Kato who had moved in the scrap to plug the gap, the Iron Fists spilling over their left flank and rushing to the shore, cursed a bitter bug’s mother, half the fat insect still living in his front teeth, the rest of it down his gullet and shoved a muscular mercenary with fancy vambraces back with his shield.
“Hey!” The man grunted, two rows of teeth amidst the tanned face, light brown eyes ogling under the flat-top soaked steel helmet the lads called ‘bucket’, the leather cheek-guards worn out and dripping.
Kato kicked mud in his face instead of answering, the rumble of many men fighting, along heavy rain pouring down. The many blades clanging on shields, spears thudding on chest armour and helms making it difficult to hear anyone, unless he was standing in front of you. There was a lot of men yelling. Plenty of cries and curses mixed in.
The mercenary ducked to save his eyes, Kato stepped forward, got a spear thrust on his shield, top right corner splintering and hacked at his turned opponent with a clench of his jaw.
Once and he chopped a bigger piece of shield off.
Twice and the man twisted, right shoulder rising to block his blade.
Thrice and Kato downed his sword again on the return, his ears ringing and soaked to the bone, the blade drumming that twitching shoulder and biting at the metal pads. The soldier cried out and got a face full of shield as Kato pushed forward again. The mercenary stumbled back sans a dozen teeth and half an upper lip, everything under the nostrils mauled and turned the color and feel of fresh grinded mince.
Kato tried to stab him through the gut, eyes gawking but the spear returned went through his shield and pierced his armour just below the nipple.
“GAAH!” Kato growled and jumped away from the blade, shield, armour and flesh connected with it until the blade’s tip ripped out of his wound. The mercenary soldier pulled to dislodge the spear, but Kato wasn’t going to allow him to get away to try again and turned his shield aside to stop his momentum.
“Legio scum—!”
He managed to say afore losing his tongue, Baldock’s blade coming out of the back of his neck after entering through the open mouth. The legionnaire yanked the bloody sword out, the mercenary with the gigantic red mouth dropping dead between them and said with a hoarse voice staring at a manically grimacing Kato.
“Sir, you’re bleeding.”
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And hour later Kato bit at the small stick, the needle working in and out of him fast as if to mend an old cloth at the quick, which was reasonable since the Dottore had more than a dozen injuries to deal with after the groaning Decanus.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Salve it, clean with alcohol, or clean water. Find Telos if it turns color,” Dottore Marianus advised him and got up.
“Since we lack most of that but for water,” Kato argued and wore his soaked bloody tunic again. “Why don’t we just burn it?”
“You can have fire, the rest of the unit can’t,” Marianus reminded him with an austere glare. “Everyone gets the same treatment. The stiches are fine.”
There was a shoemaker beyond the river that worked wonders with leather so Kato was skeptical about the Dottore’s assurance, but since he couldn’t swim across to use the man, he forced himself to go along with it.
Drink warm piss Doc, Kato wished him with a phony smile.
“Of course sir,” he agreed instead and the Dottore gave him a satisfied nod.
“The rain saved you today, but you did a good job Kato. I’ll mention it to the Prefect.”
Great.
“Gratitude sir,” Kato grunted and reached for his battered armour.
He marched out of his field tent and found Mede standing under the rain with a sour expression on his face. Most of his row with him in a semi-circle.
“Boys,” Baldock announced wearily. “He lives.”
“Any news from the Fists?” The Lesia mercenaries had retreated after the initial attack, the rain making their withdrawal far more taxing.
“Don’t see them trying again today,” Mede replied hoarsely. “Tarsus is missing.”
“He’s at the Lesia bridge Mede,” Kato grunted and wiped his face, feeling the stubble under his fingers.
Mede spat down with a grimace. “Might as well be dead sir,” he rustled. “Cause he’s missing from the line and there are plenty more of them fuckers coming down.”
“How many is plenty?” Kato grunted. He didn’t want any more problems.
“We’ll know at night, or if the rain stops,” Baldock another Northman replied.
“I owe you one mister Baldock,” Kato told him to get it out of the way. The legionnaire shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re a nasty dick Decanus,” he replied truthfully. “But when you’re about to suck plenty of cock, it’s better to pick one you’re familiar wit to ease ye in.”
Eh.
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Durio had aged a couple of years in a few short months, but his energy hadn’t diminished at all. The Prefect had quickly inspected the camp and wall after he had disembarked off the large heavily laden rafts.
“They are going after Tarsus you think?” Durio asked with a glance at the dark sky. At least it had stopped raining, but everything was dripping wet. Men and earth. Weapons and tools.
“Kaeso probably kicked them off the peninsula.”
“Can he hold it?”
“Not without infantry. At least we managed to split their numbers and Tarsus will distract them.”
Durio frowned and sucked on his teeth thoughtfully.
“We don’t have the numbers Decanus,” he finally said.
“More of them up the mountain path?” Kato probed.
“A thousand five hundred is what the Fists are usually numbering,” Durio replied, familiar with the Lesia outfit. “We are heavily outnumbered.”
“Hop on the rafts sir?” Kato jested, as hope dies last.
“We can’t do that,” Durio murmured. “You need to hold here Decanus and hope Kaeso can flank them from the south.”
“Kaeso might not come out of the Groin sir,” Kato pointed out.
“I’ll bring reinforcements from the workers, we have some willing to use a spear,” Durio said. “You need to build a better wall. A fake wall is same as no wall.”
No shit.
“I don’t believe I’ll manage it afore they attack again,” Kato retorted. “What do I do with civilians?”
“Man the wall,” Durio replied. “And pray to whatever yer god is Hermon ditched his machines to cross the mountain.”
Plate full of cack.
“Say he was reluctant to do it,” Kato hypothesized. “Is it even possible for him to bring them over?”
“It is,” Durio replied with a grimace. “I’ll load a Scorpio on the next raft, but I need the rest to block the bridge,” if you lose here was his meaning. “By the way I can install two more flat beams as early as next morning.”
“Wide enough for a wagon to come over?”
“Three people… carefully,” Durio replied. “The timbers are slippery when moist.”
Fantastic.
Operation Day 156
Early morning
“Tarsus is engaged on the flank sir!” Baldock reported, a thunder’s roar covering his words.
Kato had his eyes on the busy forward camp the Iron Fists had created not a kilometer from their position.
Busy motherfuckers.
“Kaeso?”
“Keeps them from the bridge, but they slowly exchange scouts with heavy infantry,” Baldock continued accepting a piece of stale bread from Mede to chew on.
“Where are the freed up scouts?”
“Probably looking to hit Tarsus on the flank or slip by and needle us from a safe distance,” Baldock mumbled, his mouth full of bread.
“I’m worried about the Scorpios more,” Kato grunted, his wound bothering him. The Iron Fists had brought dismantled machines down the slopes and were busy building them back up again.
Hopefully they threw away some vital parts, Kato thought.
“Fuck is that ungodly thing?” He barked at Ardas who was handling the spyglass.
“A trebuchet sir,” Ardas replied nervously.
Sans the protruding bit.
“That what they are doing poking us in the forest?” Kato hissed.
“Ayup, probably the arm weakened in the journey. Turned unusable.”
“Find Brevis,” Kato grunted. “Tell him to send a squad further up and kill every motherfucker carrying an axe that enters the woods.”
“Them Scorpios are about ready to fire,” Mede informed him. “Should I bring ours forward?”
“Leave it hidden,” Kato replied with a grimace. “Pack more earth behind the wall, wood, whatever we have available. A couple of sacks of that bread might even do the trick. Shit is hard as stone.”
“You think they’ll run out of bolts sir?” Baldock croaked curious, after swallowing the contents of his mouth, probably damaging his throat in the process.
“We have ten shots,” Kato reminded him. “So I reckon this line of thought isn’t helpful Baldock. You run back to the shore now and bring those volunteers here.”
“Decanus, Mede is fully rested,” Baldock protested.
“Mede I need to entice Leys scouts to reveal themselves because he’s tall thus noticeable,” Kato retorted angrily and the legionnaire murmured unhappy afore trotting away.
“Thanks chief,” Mede said with a smile and Kato eyed him sternly.
“Don’t thank me fool,” he told him. “I wasn’t jesting. Put that helm on.”
> Baron Hermon’s Iron Fists finally arrived at the flat valley between Framtond’s westernmost tributary and the Groin almost two months behind Armando Leys Boars. Upon being informed of the situation Hermon acted fast and send the five hundred men strong Third Division that was leading the march to assist the scouts. The latter were embroiled in a bitter back and forth, a brutal guerilla type scrap with Centurion Kaeso’s Rangers for the Peninsula for almost three weeks. Kaeso had managed to take control of Lesia’s second bridge over the mid tributary and Leys Boars had a difficult time dislodging him.
>
> Hermon marched the Third Division down the valley but was intercepted halfway through by legionnaires coming out of the mist. The local commander turned and attacked Decanus Kato’s men but was repulsed and had to retreat. Hermon’s infantry kept coming down the pass and started building a camp to house the massive supply train following behind him spread in the pass for almost fifteen kilometers.
>
> Upon learning that there was heavy infantry guarding the west bank of Framtond, Hermon ordered the Third to be split into smaller groups and then attempt to relieve Leys Boars during that same evening. Almost two hundred soldiers filtered through and stopped Kaeso’s sneak attack dead. A fierce battle started in the wilderness hugging that side of Framtond. A force arriving from Kato’s camp led by Decanus Tarsus broke through Leys Boars north flank and made contact with Kaeso’s cut off force.
>
> By the time Kaeso opened the way to Lesia’s bridge again, the Iron Fists counterattacked Tarsus small force and pushed him back. Now the mercenaries had a narrow corridor that led to the flanks of Kato’s main force across the river, but they were slow to take advantage of it. Prefect Durio reinforced the men over the river, his own camp safe beyond it, just as Hermon’s war machines started arriving with his supply train.
>
> The Baron wanted to smash the defenders without risking a frontal assault, but James Viceroy realizing there was an almost finished bridge being built in a more favorable and direct position than their own vetoed his order, threatening not to pay the ‘death toll’ the fixed sum of gold each mercenary’s family received upon his death. One of the Bank’s famous gold contract clauses. A row started in the mercenaries’ camp, the Baron turning livid at his frugality and greed in the middle of a campaign, the two men finally coming to blows.
>
> The sturdy Baron true to his company’s moniker had beaten the Bank’s agent to submission is the rumor, giving him a severe concussion and two black eyes.
>
> Two days later the Iron Fists started bombarding Kato’s position, the wall the Decanus had built providing minimal resistance, but the tenacious officer’s craftiness gave the Baron fits.
TWANG
Multiplied ten times.
Turd in soup!
The bolts came whooshing, the machines ever coming closer and the wall coming apart as more and more bolts broke right through after bouncing off the ground in front of their wall. The explosions sending stones, earth and the usually crooked bolt cutting over the men’s heads afore stopping in the muddy terrain nearer the river’s shores.
“Three hundred meters!” Mede bellowed glancing over the corner of the wall, the rest of the Maniple held fifty meters back and towards the left flank.
“We have parabolic range sir,” Karson the engineer informed him, the two Scorpios behind them.
“Can you hit anything like that?”
“I can fire twice as fast,” Karson retorted with a meaningful smirk.
Yeah, we don’t have the ammo for that mate.
“Don’t fire until they are a hundred meters away,” Kato ordered him and sprinted towards the wall, just as a huge boulder hit the ground five meters before it, bounced once leaving a crater behind, went over the wall and the men behind it and landed with a dull thump in the mud.
Digging a seven meter ditch afore it stopped.
“Shit!” A legionnaire cursed eyeing the almost a meter tall gigantic rock.
“FUCK THAT CAME FROM?” Another bellowed sounding properly worried.
“Mede!” Kato barked no other way around it.
“Decanus?”
“We charge the Scorpios after they fire,” Kato told him, an arrow whistling over his head making him flinch.
“Eh, let’s think this through Decanus,” Mede argued, another arrow landing on the ground next to them.
“If they find the range we’re turning into paste,” Kato explained and glared at the enemy scouts that had emerged behind the trees on their flank. “The next rain will wash us in the Canlita Sea.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Mede insisted not willing to give up, more arrows coming their way.
Worn out boots!
“Either we hit the Scorpio crews, or Brevis does it,” Kato relented. “Baldock we’re going scout hunting.”
“THEY’RE ABOUT TO SHOOT AGAIN!” Baldock protested.
“I’ll run to Brevis,” Mede decided puffing out.
Please rain again, Kato prayed. “Send a civilian, you’re coming with me,” he ordered him and turned around to return to his spot, but not before giving Baldock a good kick to rouse him from his cover.
Mede kissed the figurine he had under his armour and followed after him.
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Kato charged thirty men into the woods on their south flank and caught half a dozen scouts between his group and a team Tarsus had send to plug the gap. A brief skirmish ensued, but Leys Boars broke and scattered quickly.
Kato ordered the second group, all ten of them to guard the tree line and trotted back as in the meantime Decanus Brevis had come out of the North woods and flanked the Scorpio crews killing a number of them and ruining two of their machines. He was quickly overwhelmed by soldiers coming from all sides and had to retreat, the legionnaires gathered in a testudo, shields on every side.
He was going to get wiped out.
“Swords out,” Kato ordered, breathing heavy seeing the catastrophe unfolding not two hundred meters away. “Advance.”
“SWORDS!” Mede boomed glaring at his back irate. “ADVANCE!”
Kato started towards the Iron Fists coalescing on the trapped slow moving Maniple. Every legionnaire came after him, along almost two hundred civilians armed with spears, eight adventures, six hunters and Dottore Marianus with a couple of medics.
“Charge or feint?” Mede asked hopefully coming to march next to him, Baldock and the others forming up in a long line.
Kato’s mouth had dried up completely. You would think wit the amount of plaguing humidity all around them and the bloody weather I’d have a bit more moisture to play wit.
But he didn’t.
So he grunted, after clearing this throat, something between an instruction and the croak of the doomed in the arena.
“Charge.”
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