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Legatus Nonus Sula
Maiden’s War
Part V
-Hard headed, steely resolve-
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[https://i.postimg.cc/MHm78Yhk/PARCOR-CITY-PLAN-v2.jpg]
Siege of Pascor,
Late fall 192
Also known as the ‘Battle at Serene River’,
-Native name ‘Lobster day’-
Sixth week
Late morning
IV Legio center,
Vines Forest edge & Citadel corner
Five street junction afore Admiralty boulevard
Sula’s command, 1st Century
Henk’s second piercing assault
The boulder plunged on the hard cobblestone, pulverized it on impact, stones turning to fine dust, bounced half a foot high and hit the base of the barricade with a deafening thud, cracked but still relatively intact.
Then went right out the other way.
“Thick-skinned bitch,” Dumont cursed, seeing the inside of the barricade exploding, smashed pieces of rocks, bricks, broken timber and plain dirt ripping through the men standing behind it. A wrapped legion helmet covered in gore came tumbling towards their position. The sound of injured soldiers screaming, drown by the sound of the Issir infantry advance.
“Papus!” Sula barked getting out of from behind the building. The Decanus had appeared from the other side walking briskly towards the dust covered opening. “Bring the Maniple here!”
“Sir, Trebius is injured, the Centurion wants me to take over!” Papus yelled and stooped instinctively as a Scorpio bolt plunged three meters right of their position, after striking the wall of a two story building and ricocheting their way.
“Where are the medics?” Sula grunted and followed after him trying to see through the chaos and over the barricade.
“Most have rushed to the Citadel corner. The main attack is towards the Admiralty building sir!” Papus reported and accepted a shield from a legionnaire, to inspect the damage. Slingers were firing over the barricade at the approaching enemy soldiers, the metallic dull ringing of lead shot hitting armour and helmets coming in hair-raising waves.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT.
Sula glanced at Trebius being carried away, his left arm a mess and gathered in half a bloody blanket and grimaced, deep lines forming on his strained face.
“We got this sir,” Papus assured him and saluted.
Ah.
Sula nodded and turned around towards the frowned Dumont, his aide’s dirty face fully hidden under his tightly knotted cheekguards, but for the eyes and a bit of his unshaven chin. They were all covered in filth and reeked of sweat. Dumont had brought their horses out.
“They have brought machines inside the Vines,” his aide reminded him. “That shot could have gone either way Legatus.”
“Damn it Pete,” Sula sneered climbing on the wooden military saddle. “You got as lucky back there.”
“Indeed sir,” Dumont yielded and expounded on his reasoning. “Which is why this was a warning addressed to the both of us.”
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Sula found out that the Third Cohort had retreated to the edge of Pascor Lake forest, half of it manning the barricaded approach to the Admiralty cadet barracks. Dumont had to get between him and Prefect Jacobred who had ordered the retreat, as the Legatus exploded in anger when he realized the Citadel was in danger.
“They used the undergrowth and the Vines to attack the walls,” the flushed Prefect explained. “There’s fighting happening right now in the Duke’s stables. If they take the estate’s walls, the men would be exposed to arrow fire in the open. I had to pull them to cover Legatus.”
“Is the Citadel evacuated?” Dumont asked to give Sula time to get ahold of himself, the fuming Legatus pacing back and forth watching the smokes coming from Lord Ton’s estate in the distance.
“Everyone of any import is at the Noble Quarter, up in the North District,” Jacobred explained. “Lady Martha and the children are safe Legatus.”
“This isn’t about Martha!” Sula grunted. “We can’t let them take East gates Prefect.”
“The Admiralty buildings are sturdy sir.”
“Flanked by Duke’s Garden on the south and this darn forest on its north,” Sula puffed out and stared at the men bringing their own Scorpios forward. “Will the Duke’s men hold the Citadel?”
“To keep the way for Lord Ton open,” Dumont elucidated and the Prefect from Sovya grimaced.
“I wouldn’t know sir, they tend to retreat a lot,” he replied honestly.
It’s because the officials don’t have as much skin in the game. Ton plays his head here, but a Mayor can work with a different administration.
“Is Baron Hagels around?” He asked tiredly.
“He had a meeting in the Merchant’s Guild building,” the Prefect replied. “I need to tend to the Cohort sir.”
“Do it,” Sula urged him and turned to Dumont. “Grab a runner and get the Baron to our headquarters. I know he holds the purse, but he can talk business after the siege for crying out loud!”
“What about the Mayor? He has soldiers kept in reserve in the center,” Dumont probed, signaling for an Issir sergeant of the guards to approach.
“He won’t release them,” Sula replied and returned to their horses. “What worries me is we haven’t heard from Centurion Gratian’s Fourth Cohort yet. Wouldn’t Decurion Bailey know?” The Decurion was with Sir Gatrell’s cavalry scouring the north fields outside the walls of the city looking for a way to strike at the rear of Henk’s force. With Pascor’s cavalry force added to his men, Gatrell had more than half a Cohort of mixed riders roaming. They had kept a whole division of Henk’s troops locked on his north flank, enough to prevent a pincer maneuver there, but it had forced the Duke to empty his reserves from beyond the river, which is what Sula was looking to take advantage of with an even wider counterattack.
“It’s pretty chaotic now Nonus,” Dumont replied, pausing to instruct the sergeant briefly. “But word might have reached headquarters.”
Sula nodded and glanced at a small fire that had started in the distance. “Even without much rains falling,” he grunted and kicked his legs to start his mount going. “At least Pascor won’t burn easy, or at all,” Sula added with a tired grimace.
It tells a lot about the quality of a place, if the main man tasked with defending it is kind of uncertain on his feelings about the latter notion.
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“Using the cadets in the north was your idea Legatus,” a worn out Hagels reminded him. He’d gotten chewed out by the merchant’s guild agents for losing them property in Clay Quarry and the suspension of caravans towards Kaltha. As if a caravan could cross no man’s land with both sides firing at each other using the road to the bridge as a measuring stick.
“I had to reinforce Gratian,” Sula explained. He’d given him Pike’s Rangers as well. “He needs to take the docks Baron.”
“We have lobsters and fucking crabs inside the city Legatus!” Hagels protested, losing his temper.
“I thought that was your plan,” Sula countered, raising his head from the city maps. “Half the population is clogging the road to Bisonville Baron. That’s the other way from the plaguin’ front!”
“You expect women and children to fight to the death?” Hagels snarled and gestured at the map. “Henk stopped attacking the walls,” he added tensely. “I think he’s bringing the Spearfish division inside to bolster the force attacking towards the Admiralty.”
“All of them?” Dumont asked.
“Nah, he rotated some of Tollor’s reserves there,” the Baron continued. “They are digging a ditch, but they can’t cover the wall approach, so Gatrell still has a corridor. The better one.”
“We need to wait for a signal from Gratian. The moment he’s at the bridge—”
Hagels stopped him. “I heard the pitch yesterday Dumont. Didn’t like it then and I sure don’t like it now.”
“Any news from Lord Ton?” Sula queried, accepting a scroll from a runner. He read it quickly.
“Nothing, other that no Crabs have attacked the Citadel yet. Then again Henk’s attacking them from the other side, so there’s that,” the Baron griped and crossed his arms frustrated.
“What is it?” Dumont asked him.
“Carbo’s Second Cohort counterattacked at the Guardtower, almost pushed Henk’s center back,” Sula replied thoughtfully. He rubbed his face hard and swallowed, his mouth bitter.
“The Duke has sent a lot of men around the walls facing the delta to flank the Citadel defenders,” Dumont murmured staring at the map that had painted wooden figurines representing different forces at different points inside and out of the city. “He has men pushing out of the Vines, attacking the stables and the gates of the citadel.”
An immobile front to cover the north side of the walls from Gatrell, Sula thought. Men committed to the main push through the city’s center trying to reach Uher’s temple.
“He’s running out of men,” Sula rustled and remembered the Wolffish’s words. “Son of a bitch.”
“Nonus… Legatus?” Dumont queried, the sound of a wayward catapult shot bringing another wall, or house down rattling the table and knocking some of the small figurines down.
“His engineers are here,” Sula pointed at the map. “He’s bringing some of the Riverdor division to cover them and reinforce his center,” Sula explained and Dumont nodded. “Not push further inside. He’ll wait for Hoff’s men to come out of the Fenlands for that.”
“Praise be Uher, what is he talking about?” Hagels grunted, his tensed face flushed and eyes ogling.
“The Duke’s spent,” Dumont elucidated and stood back with a frown.
“Bring Centurion’s Montaus, Draco and Surinas Centuries to the front,” Sula ordered gruffly and reached for his dirt covered helmet.
“At the junction?” Dumont asked. “We need the signal from Gratian Legatus.”
“Have the men ready,” Sula replied and put his helmet on, an austere expression on his face. “The Fourth Cohort will come through.”
They had to.
> In the crack of dawn, at the end of the sixth week of Pascor’s siege, the year of the new calendar 192, a hundred and twenty rangers led by Centurion Gerald ‘Half Ear’ Pike, a force of Nords, half-breeds and few Lorians crossed the Serene River more than ten kilometers away from its stone bridge and at least two from the berths of the fishing village docks. They traveled the bog-mired wilderness and assaulted the force guarding the opposite docks Henk controlled since the beginning of the siege.
>
> In the ruthless fight that erupted in the dark, the rangers had the advantage of surprise and the fact they were facing mostly (less armoured) scouts in the beginning, but an hour into the struggle, a detachment of regulars camping nearby was alerted. They counter-attacked and pushed the rangers back and away from the river shores.
>
> While all this was happening, Centurion Gratian’s ‘the instructors’ of the Fourth Cohort, an extremely well-trained unit out of Anorum, along two hundred cadets from Pascor’s marine school used rafts and boats to land at the thinly protected flat river banks across the village. The landing was done under ideal conditions for both the defenders and the attackers, but despite the initial casualties (a boat was overturned striking a wayward tree trunk drowning most of the legionnaires aboard, whilst another took on water and capsized with few making it out half-drown) Gratian’s force was superior in numbers and at least equal in skill. While the young marines lost half of their force in half an hour, especially when the regulars pivoted and counterattacked Gratian’s men, the legionnaires of the Fourth were determined not to allow this to be their first loss of their brief history.
>
> The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
>
> And they didn’t.
>
> Gratian routed Henk’s guarding force across the river and along with Pike’s returning rangers killed everyone that surrendered without mercy. Sula had given the Centurion strict orders not to stall for any reason. The orders are still debated today in some circles not favoring the old Legatus as ‘being purposefully too open-ended’, but whether that is the case, or not, it is difficult to pass judgement now so far removed from the events and with today’s political ‘bias’ influencing every debate.
>
> Henk who had managed to break through the destroyed part of the walls south from the also mostly ruined main River Gates, found success using the difficult to defend vine fields and reached the inner Citadel walls. With that part of the city almost under control, as a loyal to Lord Ton force was still holding on to the Citadel and most of the estate’s buildings, the Duke ordered part of the fresh First Division loitering to the north of the battlefield (comprised of Riverdor troops) to move towards the main gates.
>
> He intended to reinforce his center that had been weakened due to casualties suffered when the Second Division had forced its way inside Pascor earlier that morning. With most of Tollor’s force attacking the Citadel trying to reduce Lord Ton’s personal holding, the rest of Hoff’s regulars were thus redeployed north to take the First’s place in the frontline and keep watch on Gatrell’s always worrisome cavalry.
>
> The Duke had brought his own cavalry force over the river during the night and prepared a trap for the Sovya nobleman, leaving purposefully the frontline thinly manned and Tollor’s force kept in reserve. The idea was to entice Gatrell to commit to another attack, bog down his cavalry with the infantry and use his own cavalry to smash through and open the road towards Pascor’s north gates.
>
> If the scheme was a success, the Duke could then attack the rear of the Fourth Cohort holding the distant fishing village (probably named Serene like the river, but the name has eluded history as Pascor’s city moved away from the lake shores in the decade that followed and swallowed it) and then completely bypass the city’s defenses and strike towards the outer districts, or its port.
>
> Duke Hoff had come over as well later that morning. He’d learned of the defeat of his fleet near the Isles, but he had also gotten word that his marine force had started moving towards Pascor the previous day and would be there hopefully afore sunset. While the loss of the naval battle made supplying the marines inside the Fenlands impossible, the Duke believed the men would try ‘their damnest’ to make it to Pascor as fast as they could.
>
> The stranded Tollor marines did move fast, after clearing some of the paths and marking the way with the help of local collaborators. They also made contact with Lord Ton’s intercepting force, but the details of the engagement are murky to say the least. A Nord female warrior Marlene made it out with most of her force intact, but she probably got lost soon upon entering the bogs and barely encountered any of Hoff’s marines before returning early the next day.
>
> Some of the celebrated survivors from Lord Ton’s force had sworn they ventured deep inside the Fenlands following the old road and fought portions of Tollor’s troops in many small engagements. Given the numbers involved and the huge numbers of men lost (around six hundred of Pascor’s men along Lord Ton, Sir Blenk and many of his captains, a thousand five hundred, or eight hundred of Tollor’s marines) it is difficult to fathom a small number of skirmishes was all that came out of it. While there is the official story (and holiday) that a big battle was fought deep in Hag’s Fenlands, this writer’s opinion is that no evidence for it exist and perhaps another reason must be explored.
>
> While there is little on the whereabouts, or heroics of the ill-fated Duke of Pascor, there are plenty of witnesses of what happened during the siege of his city.
>
> The two Dukes were in a war meeting, attended by Lord Charles the then Master of Silence of Kaltha, discussing the merits of a small operational pause to give Hoff’s marines the time to reach the now disputed south part of the walls. Hoff pressed for more reinforcements to be sent from Riverdor (A division from the recently rebuild First Foot was still forming there), but Henk wanted to win the siege first, as he was under pressure from Lord Anker to give him assistance against the rebels.
>
> While the High Regent had won at Colle, the defeat at Altarin had strained the large militarized city’s capability of supporting war on so many fronts with only Caspo O’ Bor's help. The latter had big difficulties supporting two large fleets (it had ‘inherited’ Krakenhall’s hefty Northern Fleet but not its huge resources) at sea at the same time.
>
> In order to solve his treasury problem Lord Van De Aest asked Lord Anker to allow him to retrieve the ships blockading Rida for almost three years now and bring them to port for much needed repairs, while also giving time for their worn out crews to rest. Lord Anker didn’t want to pull the fleet, as a return to port meant the crews needed to get paid a lot of wages. While the coin had been allocated from the treasury, the campaign had dragged on for far longer than Antoon had anticipated. Thankfully for the two quarreling over funds lords, the Bank of Trust informed them in a sterile letter that the comatose High King’s war loan was at last, years after it was ordered, en route for Issir’s Eagle.
>
> So given that welcomed influx of much needed coin, Lord Anker begrudgingly agreed and Lord Van De Aest ordered the stationed at Yeriden’s delta fleet to return to port. The Duke of Midlanor was forced to split the Third Foot in two, leaving a part across Mudriver Bridge and Forestfort to keep an eye on Lord Ruud. He sent the other to Quarterport, his intention being to bring it closer to home for security and ordered Duke Henk to ‘stop this farcical foolhardiness, or finish it swiftly for the love of Uher,’ in the same letter forbidding him from using the recruiting division against Lord Ton.
>
> ‘By allgods Van Durren,’ Lord Anker wrote him. ‘I understand you feel aggrieved but Lord Albert was all but gone my lad. Let Uher judge the Wolffish’s sins and the Lakelords bleed each other dry, you’re the god darn Duke of Riverdor. Return to your city and I’ll agree on you marrying my daughter on that condition. If not, apologies but I rather Klara dies a maiden than marry a numskull.”
>
> So a flustered and irritated Henk was in the process of explaining to the much older, lesser in rank though equally livid Duke that, when an aide informed them both that a IV Legio Cohort had taken control of the stone bridge to their rear.
>
> The tense moment immortalized by a rather famous painting by Ireneo Sarkozy I had the privilege to admire in Tiger’s Citadel ‘Memories Hall’ last summer.
>
> Sula had given the order for the attack the moment a rider from the promoted to Prefect that same morning Rufius Valens, still holding firm the walls of the River District, informed him that Henk had pivoted his reserves and the Tollor force marching to reinforce his north flank to his rear. He was returning to the bridge.
>
> Dumont tried to persuade him to wait for confirmation, but Sula thought that Gratian had his hands full already and sent word to Gatrell to make another attack. ‘Don’t probe,’ he wrote him in the brief note. ‘Lick them hard Sir Norman. This is it.’
>
>
Sula rushed after the legionnaires pushing the retreating towards the ruined guardtower Issir soldiers, Pascor’s fortifications and much of the town facing the river reduced to rumble, shouting for them to keep marching forward and not let the enemy disengage.
He picked an injured man up, pressed a cloth on the cut of his thigh to stop the bleeding and told him to get back in line. Dumont running after him, got an arrow at the top of his helm and cursed all gods, old and new. Sula saw a group of enemy soldiers blocking a collapsed part of the walls, behind them archers climbed on it firing arrow after arrow in the Surinas 4rth century’s advancing squares and he glanced back with a snarl. He found Decanus Bellator of the 3rd Century twenty meters away. They had pivoted left to find the Duke’s forces cut off inside the Vines still fighting with Prefect Jacobred’s Third Cohort as far deep as the Admiralty’s buildings. Sula filled his lungs with air and let out a mighty roar.
“BELLATOR!”
The Decanus flinched hearing Sula’s bellow amidst the chaos of their advance and whipped his helmed head back, eyes gawking under the rim of his legion helm.
“Sir?”
“Pluck a squad out of the last row and bring it here posthaste!” Sula barked an arrow striking his shoulder pad, another whistling angry next to his knee. Dumont stooped under a third and dived for a discarded shield.
Eight Legionnaires trotted energetically back the other way towards the Legatus, now the focus of the archers that had recognized his officer’s armour.
“TAKE AIM!” Sula barked eyes glaring, an arrow smacking him in the chest, the steel tip piercing deep enough to draw blood. He deflected another with the flat of his sword, Dumont rushing to his aid with the shield grimacing in horror.
“LOOSE JAVELINS!” The Legatus ordered hoarsely, jerking away from another volley, the latter missing badly as the archers had spotted the projectiles hurled their way and panicked. Four went down, a javelin decapitating one of them, another tripping over his feet in the attempt to save himself and cracking his head open on an angled boulder. The others turned and run, jumping over the crumbled part of the wall.
Sula raised his sword and waved the small squad forward as well. “After them gods damnit!” he yelled hoarsely. “We have ‘em on the run boys!”
“Sir, what of Draco’s assault on the vines?” Bellator asked, running after the fast moving Sula. The Legatus worked the arrow out of his armour and tossed it away afore replying without slowing down.
“He’s a blasted Draco, but way down the plaguing order,” Sula explained jumping lithely over the collapsed and now abandoned wall, as the soldiers that had attempted to hold there had run after their archers, fearing that the sudden presence of Sula running after them would bring overwhelming force on their exposed position. “The Centurion will go for the win with everything he has. Don’t worry about him. Steely resolve wins most battles.”
And the will to better one’s position.
Sula didn’t believe the cut off Issirs inside the city had what was needed to last long attacked from the rear.
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The attacking force led by the Legatus himself clashed with Issirs retreating outside the south walls from the direction of the Citadel, mainly from Tollor and was pushed back. Sula found a shield and fought climbed on the rumble alongside Bellator, so furiously that the Issirs stepped back. They turned towards the river marching through the tall reeds and the heavily breathing Legatus took the opportunity to jump back inside the walls to find out what was going on in the other parts of the battle.
The first officer they found was Primus Pilus Centurion Didicus who had advanced on the abandoned from the retreating Issirs main street with the 1st Century.
“Legatus,” a shocked Didicus gasped seeing Sula trotting his way. “What…?”
“You need to march on to the gates Centurion,” Sula cut him off impatiently. “They are all but ready to break, but if they manage to push Gratian off the bridge this will be for naught.”
“There are enemies in the city sir,” Didicus argued with a grimace.
“Let the locals deal with them and Jacobred,” Sula grunted and glanced back at the ruined gates. “They’ve nowhere to go. Do I have to take over Centurion?”
“Nonus for the love of gods!” an exasperated Dumont protested behind his back.
“Of course not sir!” Didicus yelled. “Papus get the men moving! Out of the gates!”
“You heard the Primus Pilus!” Papus barked at the top of his lungs. Everyone was yelling, but still the chaos and roar of heavy fighting coming from all sides made it difficult to grasp everything clearly.
“Find us a horse Dumont,” Sula grunted and grimaced pressing a finger on the tear of his armour. He could feel the wound bleeding down his chest.
“How bad is it?” His aide asked tiredly.
“If it was bad,” Sula retorted and wiped the sweat from his face, as despite the chill of the day, he was drenched in sweat from the exertion. “I wouldn’t be running around my friend.”
Dumont furrowed his brow and then shook his helmed head right and left.
“What?” Sula queried and looked around to find any loitering unit to send after the retreating Issirs.
“Nothing you crazy bastard, I’ll find us a couple of horses,” Dumont replied with the hint of a smile.
Eh, Sula thought with a frown. Pete has let the north rub off on him.
> An hour later, near late afternoon, Sula rode outside the gates of Pascor with his loyal aide Dumont following after him to inspect the reforming First and Second Cohort that had marched out of the city as well, the moment Gatrell’s cavalry had broken through Henk’s poorly manned north flank. They had been counter-charged in turn by the Duke’s own cavalry with a bit of success, but despite heroic efforts the Issir riders had found themselves exposed in no man’s land with the First Cohort glued on their retreating infantry narrowing the field spectacularly for maneuvers.
>
> The horses slowed down to fight it out like mounted infantry, but Gatrell broke away towards the still manned by Pascor soldiers walls and the advantage he had turned overwhelming. Henk ordered the cavalry to make a run towards the open north fields realizing the battle was lost and they did, over a hundred and fifty of them escaping towards Red Wolf’s Peak.
>
> He positioned the Tollor regulars of the smashed North flank in the center, a part of the First Division on the north of his formation and the remnants of the Second Division that had made it out of the city to guard the south. The rest of the First Division, around five hundred men he led across the bridge trying to push the Fourth Cohort back.
>
> It was an impossible task without war machines and plummeting morale. Despite the not that big a difference in numbers, as Gratian had been forced to fight two more battles before taking over the two large camps on the other side of the river and had over two hundred casualties on top of an exhausted from the hard marching all day force, the young Duke needed twice the number and light to have even a small fighting chance.
>
> Back inside the city, the Tollor force attacking the Citadel got assaulted by Prefect Jacobred’s Third Cohort and Pascor soldiers that had won the battle of the Admiralty’s camp. They were forced to retreat towards the south wall but quickly realized they were cut off and broke trying to escape inside the wilderness of the Serene Delta.
>
> The Third Cohort pivoted away from them and marched towards the Legio’s banners, but the Pascor soldiers pursued their opponents through the tall grass and sludge of the terrain all the way to the river’s mouth taking no prisoners. A recurring phenomenon, it was only the Legatus presence in the center of the field that saved some of Duke Henk’s force as it was doubtful the locals would have showed them any mercy. Still the aftermath can't absolve him of fault despite his famous victory. Pascor’s casualties from the siege both in manpower and material were heavy.
>
> But the defeat the attackers had suffered was so catastrophic, so disastrous and so unexpected given they had the city all but taken it changed the nature of the war in a day. Or two, if one count’s Lord Ton's presumed ‘victory’ in the Fenlands. I’d add half a week’s time, with Sir Dolf’s naval battle. This was the time it had taken for Duke Henk’s and Duke Hoff’s over a month long campaign to go from certain victory to a humiliating defeat.
>
> An ugly war, with a shameful beginning, it would turn uglier after the end of the siege and outright vicious afore it ended.
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter XXX
>
> (Legatus Nonus Sula,
>
> -also known as-
>
> Lord of Salt, ‘Solid Nonus’
>
> Lucius’ Southern campaigns,
>
> Fourth Year
>
> Volume II, III
>
> -Maiden’s War-
>
> Sixth & seventh week
>
> Prelude to one of his more controversial chapters
>
> that made him persona non grata with everyone above Canlita Sea
>
> and soured his relationship with the powerful Sula family, the Van Durren & the Van Calcar
>
> The Duke of Riverdor
>
> -& a devil’s affair-
>
>
>
> Late fall 192 to Winter 192-193 NC)
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read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
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