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Praetor Lucius Alden
The Ghosts of Oldfort
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Nightsilver cantered through the smoke coming from the collapsed palisade and the tower, even more smoke rising from the naturally created motte where the citadel was still burning. Part of the north face of the stone structure had collapsed as well, the three floors yielding one after the other and the guts of the building left exposed.
Lucius slowed down when he approached, Salvian, Gripa and Lanus who were riding after him doing the same. Trupo who had come and found him earlier, had followed as well bringing Ramirus, Sirio and a couple of civilians with him. Ireneo Sarkozy an ex-mercenary following that group as well. Lucius had ordered the civilians to return to the rear and ventured with the rest towards the front.
It was late afternoon, hours after the battle, but the field was still being cleaned up. Some of the patrols and medics, along with some engineers cheered seeing him and Lucius returned the cheers raising his fist high. He’d slowed down reaching the frontline, because of the wounded and the killed covering the field, but the spectacle was to turn even more gruesome behind the ruined walls.
Lucius stopped his horse and climbed down, eyes turned up the soft incline to the still burning citadel behind the destroyed west gates. Then he turned and stared to the south where a group of Long’s cavalry was returning. While the news of Lesia retreating had already reached him half an hour earlier, Lucius hoped the Optio might have more current news for him.
“There’s Galio, pestering the medics,” Trupo said, moustache darkened and soot covering his face. “Salvian go get the Tribune away from the building, will you? That wall seems just about ready to collapse as well!”
“Right away sir,” Salvian replied and galloped up the slopes to where the Second Cohort had gathered after the end of battle. They were trying to save the people trapped inside, but judging from their expressions it was futile. Lucius spotted the banners of the First Cohort up there as well and even those of the Third Cohort, which were probably Centurion Lepidus’ men that had gone after Kaeso.
“Praetor!” Decurion Ford –a young Nord from Maza Burg- saluted raising his arm after stopping his horse near them. One of the two Decurions Long had immediately promoted after receiving his honors from Lucius, the other being the half-breed Nolan Remus.
“Decurion,” Lucius said approaching the group followed by Gripa and the others. “Any changes on the earlier report?”
“The Optio has men following the retreating enemy, sir,” Ford replied, his skin blackened like that of an Issir, excited blue eyes gleaming in contrast. “And their cavalry are watching us, but no more skirmishes.”
“How big a force?”
“Around a thousand, but they have a lot of wagons in there, civilians,” Ford grimaced seeing the medics carrying the dead away to clear the field around them. “I don’t see them fighting before they reach Sava.”
“You’ll take some birds with you,” Lucius decided. “Ride back and tell Long he’s to keep scouts on what I assume must be Sir Riveras men out of Faro, but do lead a strong force to the Wine Bridge hence we become informed of Lord Caxaton’s position."
“Aye sir, right away!” Ford saluted and turned his horse slowly around to head for the rear and Legion’s camp.
“Caxaton wouldn’t know. I think he might have cornered himself, milord,” Trupo commented. “Riveras is heading back to Sava. I doubt very much that he informed the Baron in his panic.”
“Almost certainly he did and was ordered to protect the road to Flauegran,” Lucius replied. “And I don’t think Sir Riveras panicked. He had to retreat to save his men. Don’t belittle a man for making a sound decision Trupo, lest we find ourselves in his shoes. You won’t wish to be judged as harshly.”
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“They’re gone,” a covered in dirt and soot Galio reported, his red cloak torn and hands covered in dried-up gore. “Lots of dead in the yard, burned, most not whole, aye,” he crooked his wrinkled mouth and spat down with a cough. “Darn smoke makes it difficult to breathe Milord.”
“Merenda?”
“Claims he bounced a hurled rock with his helm right back, killed the man that hurled it,” Galio grunted. “People actually believe his bullshit.”
He’s trying to cheer the men up, Lucius thought and nodded. “Lepidus? Kaeso?”
“Lepidus is unkillable, no flesh to hurt on him, but that fool Kaeso lost an arm. He’s pretty bad. The unit was not ready.”
“They did pretty darn well,” Lucius retorted.
“I guess they did. Lepidus wants Durio court-martialed by the way. He used stronger words than these. Claims he’d raised the banners on the walls and they still fired on them. Lots of maimed and killed. Can’t sweep it under the rug.”
“Durio gave the order?”
“Durio is unconscious. A bolt killed his horse, went through the leg. He may not make it,” Galio informed him. “I’ll find out who was in charge, see to address it.”
Lucius nodded and glanced at the burning citadel. “Logan’s men got caught by Cavalry,” he said tiredly. “It was bad.”
“Maybe but it was a darn good plan, Milord,” Galio responded looking at him intensely. “We pushed them aside.”
“Yeah, I should have reduced the walls first,” Lucius replied with a grimace and crossed his arms over his chest. “Or make more machines to out-duel them. Maybe wait until the end of this month.”
“We might not have a month milord,” Galio argued and glared at the silent Trupo. “Tell him. Don’t stand back there fondling yer darn moustache!”
“We have no fresh intel on Lesia’s plans, but we could learn more directly from Cartagen,” Trupo said his face flushed. “This was pretty gnarly Tribune.”
“This was a blasted win. A knockout punch. They are picking their teeth out of the mud,” Galio admonished him, his voice rising. “See to get the message across to the lads and leave that defeatist bullshit out of yer words Prefect!”
Lucius stared at him warningly and the Tribune calmed down with a grunt, as the men were watching them. “I’ll visit the men up there,” Lucius finally said and rubbed at his forehead with a gloved finger.
“Milord,” Galio told him as he turned away. “That’s three wins in a row. There’s no god darn ‘strategic foresight’ or whatever ye fancy learned lads say that covers that much losing. A stupid man would take notice and start worrying a plaguing lot. Don’t think they are stupid and they defended here as hard as they could. This place they wanted to keep. We got them on their heels.”
“Caxaton has a big force and we might have to fight again soon,” Lucius countered.
“Or the Lord is caught with his pants down and he’s on pins and needles now, his arse on fire. Better yet he doesn’t know.”
Lucius nodded. “This is the most optimistic thought Tribune. Best we keep our hopes low and expect a timely reaction from them.”
> But Galio was dead right on this, whether it was the old officer’s instincts or just a guess. As a matter of fact the position Lord Caxaton found himself in was deemed untenable to everyone in Lesia’s army hierarchy, but the most clueless dreamers and the lords back in Armium that is.
>
> Which created a problem.
“We could move most of the army near the bridge,” Draco suggested two days later. The funeral pyres had stopped burning and the south breeze mixed the ashes inside the valley, the sight of the destroyed Oldfort and the devastated landscape of the gutted Richforest shocking the civilians that had arrived with the supply train. “Secure that they can’t break out.”
“They have nowhere to go anyway,” Lucius said looking at the maps of the general area.
“If he doesn’t know he’s cut off, then he’ll learn it within the next couple of days,” Trupo said. Hunters had informed them that Lesia had crossed the Wine Bridge and they were assaulting the Flower Bridge, which had brought them near the north walls of Cartagen.
“You don’t need the whole army to defend the bridge,” Galio pointed out. “But you’ll need it to defeat them in the field if we attack beyond it.”
A cut-off force may fight, but they won’t fight well and they might not even fight at all.
“We’ll march on the morrow,” Lucius decided and got up to walk to the edge of the tent’s sunshade. “Lepidus with Falx and the Third will continue after our scouts, under Prefect Draco. Most of the cavalry will go with him towards Sava and the North Vine Fields.”
“Are we going to head for Flauegran next?” Galio asked.
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Lucius turned to look at the Legion officers solemnly. “We head for Sava and Baron Napoli’s home,” he told them. “Far as they know that would be our goal. But I want the force threatening Cartagen removed gentlemen and the road opened. We’ll start with the men currently inside the Wine Garden.”
“We have no way to communicate with Valens,” Trupo argued. Lucius stared at Ramirus and the man nodded.
“We’ll find a way,” Lucius assured him. “Caxaton will learn about the developments and he’ll see enemies to the west and to the east.”
“He might retreat towards the mountains,” Draco offered staring at the maps.
“Let him,” Lucius said.
“They might try to break him out,” Galio noticed.
“Either from Flauegran, or through the Flats, the road comes up only the one way,” Lucius replied and furrowed his brows seeing Faye berating the leaders of her Warband, face all flushed and eyes staring daggers at them. Roderick was looking at his incensed mother stunned. Faye was probably using a lot of colorful words, he thought afore returning his attention to the officers. “A grueling march with little preparations or supplies to come at us. We shall be waiting for them, but first we need to open the road to Cartagen and rejuvenate the spirits of those defending it.”
“The First needs some work,” Galio said getting up. “I have some suggestions for a new Primus Pilus and ehm… we’ll need to promote some lads, or transfer from other units—”
“No transfers,” Lucius stopped him. “The First will pick its own officers from the inside.”
“As you wish Milord. Brevis was recently promoted,” he noticed.
“And yet again he dragged a unit through the finish line, reacting timely to save a lot of people,” Lucius replied. “They call him ‘Sturdy’ Brevis already.”
“And ‘baldie’ sir,” Galio commented. “On account of him having more skin than hair under the helm.”
“See to it Tribune,” Lucius said having made his decision and Galio nodded.
“What about the Second Century?”
“That Nord, Kato’s friend.”
“Mede? Eh, he has a full record, not all the stuff in there pleasant and he’s injured.”
“He’ll pull through?” Lucius asked.
“I think he has a detached eye milord,” Galio pointed out.
“If he can still serve and wishes it, Mede will lead the Second Century,” Lucius replied. “See to promote Gata’s cousin to a Decanus and make sure any family he has receives a sum for his service.”
“Aye milord,” Galio replied. “What about Kaeso’s unit?”
Lucius breathed out. “Kaeso will rebuild it and the survivors shall be rewarded Tribune,” he said finishing the meeting.
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Faye and Monica, the latter in her last months of pregnancy could barely walk, stayed in the camp the Legion was to leave behind with a small guard. Another force already traveled from Storm’s Rest along with some engineers that would repair some of the fort’s buildings and finish clearing the fields and road. The sight of the piles of blackened corpses had shocked the young noblewoman to tears. Such was her discomfort at the gruesome scenes Lucius considered leaving her back briefly but decided against it.
“You’ll want us with you,” Faye told him that night. “When we enter Cartagen.”
“How do you know, I intend to enter the city?” Lucius asked taking his sword from Roderick’s hands and placing it on the table over the maps.
“It’s what Lucius would do,” Faye said and approached to pick their son up.
“Is that wise? He’s heavy.”
“I don’t do wise,” Faye replied and kissed him. “Fuck, he’s like a stone!”
“Hah, give him here,” Lucius smiled and retrieved the boy from her.
“Bone!” Roderick yelled and grabbed his armour.
“Stone,” Lucius corrected him.
“Ohm, eh…” Roderick replied and slapped his small hand on the metal with a frown.
“Lucius would want to enter the city,” he told his northern wife.
“How do you push Lord Caxaton aside?” she asked playing with the boy’s soft curly different shades of red hair.
“There’s talk that he has close to four thousand men with him,” Lucius replied. “You can’t support that number surrounded and completely cut off. If he opts to fight, then with the rains of Fall and Winter they are in for quite the ordeal. An army that big can turn on you.”
“I can’t tell with those Lorians from Lesia,” Faye murmured.
“They are not here to die for Lord Caxaton,” Lucius explained. “He’s from Andalus River, a place called Telus. These men are from Armium, Cediorum mostly.”
“Ever been there, Telus?”
“Nay, but my mother was a knowledgeable woman,” Lucius replied, remembering Queen Vacia. “Very decent, cautious in her words, but when she talked, you listened.”
“I wish he’d gotten yer hair color, or your mother’s,” Faye said and gestured for Gripa to take the drowsy boy to his room. His aide had just returned from the kitchen and another meeting held by minor and high-ranking officers.
“I don’t,” Lucius replied and lowered the boy down. “It reminds me of you,” he added. “What’s the verdict?” he asked Gripa.
“Flagellation,” Gripa replied. “Durio wanted to take the punishment himself and Galio told him flat out it’ll kill him. There was a bit of a back-and-forth there, but it saved Drano. So I expect around thirty. You’ll attend my Lord?”
“I don’t believe my wives would appreciate the spectacle,” Lucius replied. “But it’ll be unfair for the men to miss it.”
“Merenda leaves on the morrow,” Gripa said. “The Praetor can do whatever he wants and following the army is a priority.”
“Pleasing his wife… wives isn’t?” Faye asked him.
“I have no answer for your query milady,” Gripa admitted stiffly.
“Right, take the boy away Gripa,” Lucius said to save his aide from the corner he’d painted himself in. Stooping forward from his chair, he hugged the redhead’s waist and pulled her on his lap over her protests.
“I’m heavy,” Faye hissed in his face when Gripa had left them alone.
“I believe Monica is much heavier,” Lucius teased her.
“Say that around her and you’ll have a problem,” Faye warned him. “She’s taking it hard.”
“Some women grow more,” Lucius offered, his tone didactic.
“You are not an expert on all matters Alden,” Faye retorted grabbing his chin. “In this one you’re wrong.”
“I can admit when I am,” Lucius countered with a smile at her angry frown. “Logan did all he could,” he said changing the subject.
“He always splits down command,” Faye replied. “Which gives people the opportunity to fuck up, or bathe in glory. A lot of people were killed, but it won’t faze him. He has a weird belief that if you’re not worth it, ye might as well be dead.”
“That’s not the idea I got from him,” Lucius said. “He almost fought me back in Maza remember? I thought he had a thing for you.”
“He took an oath to protect me. He might have done it as penance to his lost sister. I don't know his reasons,” Faye explained. “Then I left with the warband and he went with Twotrees since they had a friendship of sorts? After that my brothers… were killed and Logan decided I needed more protecting.”
All men need a reason to go on living after they lose everything, Lucius thought. They'll create one if none is available.
“Why?”
“Logan thinks I’m too careless sometimes," Lucius was of the same opinion, but wisely allowed her to finish. "You know I tried to kill him twice?” Faye asked. “Years back aye.”
“I can understand why you would want it.”
“My father Arlo was a bad man,” Faye replied hoarsely. “Oscar was like him. He loved the warband for all the wrong reasons. Did things we didn't agree on, but he was family I guess. Anyway, I tried again to cut Logan down. I was in the wrong to attempt it after he’d spared me once already and I learned it from him the second time. You can only take as much as yer owed. Be it love, coin or revenge. Over that it’s a sin and the gods will strike ye down.”
“Red,” Lucius said and touched her freckled face. “There’s no woman like you. Not in this Realm.”
“Spare me the fancy talk Alden,” Faye said and wiped her eyes. “I’ll bed ye without it.”
Allfather's mercy, Lucius groaned inwardly. “I wasn’t—!”
But she didn’t allow him to finish. “You saved me life. I would have died for nothing before the Montfoot. Roderick too. I won’t easily forget, nor shy away from it.”
Lucius sighed.
“I was trying to say I’m very fond of your character milady,” he finally said.
“Aye,” Faye replied and hugged his neck with both arms. “I love ye too me knight.”
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That night Lucius saw that moonlit desolate field in a dream again. Walked over the billowing ashes to the long rows of faceless men and women that stood at attention. Roderick didn’t appear as he had the previous time, but Lucius recognized the armour of the Third and the banners immediately. Everything was more coherent years later and Roderick’s words still vivid in his head.
“You’ll kill many more,” Roderick had told him years back, “All ‘em lads you see over yonder and those at the back -ye don’t, whose faces ye will never remember. People shall forever die in yer name.”
I can’t keep killing old man, Lucius thought. But I understand what you were trying to say. And while there’s nothing perhaps I can do to prevent it, I shall try just the same.
He stayed for a long time across from them, staring at the rows of dead soldiers. The dead stared back at him, but no words were exchanged.
> ‘Those we lost,’ Lucius Alden had said before the Legion departed. ‘Shall march after us. They’ll watch over the Third. See it keeps on. We shall open the road to Cartagen. We might have to fight for it, or we might not. If Lesia decides to come at us again, then we’ll stop them. We shall win and at the end of our journey we shall rest assured we’ve done our duty. To the land and to the people, to yer Lord, the Gods above and to yourselves. We shall rest,’ he’d added before the silently listening legionnaires and the many civilians attending ready to march down the road. ‘And the Ghosts of Oldfort shall rest alongside us.’
>
>
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