>
> There was a strange buzz around the city that day.
>
> The kid running down the street holding a basket filled with freshly cut flowers making it even more surreal.
>
> The reason for it was lost on him but it was present in the air.
>
> In the taste of things and the noise.
>
> It crept at you at the turn of each corner, each alley and Tullus had taken a lot of them to avoid the crowds gathering in the main street. Old men and old ladies of all classes had decided to take a stroll that morning. Younger men and younger ladies had the same inclination. The stroll had bogged down apparently, people standing in the middle of the great avenue splitting Cartagen in two, from North to South Gates and the City Center from the three distinct large districts. Not the only districts in the large city, but the more well-known of them. No offense to the West or the River parts of the city, but the White, the Merchant and the People’s District were nigh famous.
>
> His tutor would say that this showed the decadence of a populace. When even Hippodrome –a glorified stable according to him- had a place named after it or the rich folk, the slimy merchants and even the lower classes, but not Academia. The latter lumped up in the City Center, behind the market and the King’s Baths, across the Palace almost, but not quite. As if hidden, Pompeo Di Cresta always preached, for people are ashamed of their stupidity and look to hide it.
>
> So Tullus had cut through the Central Market, danced around the King’s Baths, strangely empty for the time and crossed the street coming from the Wheat Silos to the Artisan Shops District. He paused crossing the avenue, an officer of the guard glaring at him and his large bag as if trying to decide whether to search him or not. With the city being under siege for months the guards had turned even more thorough than before. At first, it was a big thing the siege, then people got back into a certain rhythm again and for a while life moved on.
>
> Yes, there were refugees from Cartaport and sad stories about atrocities, or destroyed property. Curses for the ‘absent King’ in Alden not lifting a hand to help them, although Di Cresta thought the whole matter an exercise in futility. ‘People should help themselves, else they’ll be victims to bad kings, or even benefiting from good ones,’ he’d commented sourly.
>
> When Tullus had asked the ancient academic why was the second part that bad, he’d replied that it was ‘equally bad to suffer without it being your fault, but also receiving gifts you’re not worthy of receiving. Anything gained without a solid effort is a product of luck and luck works in a simple way. It removes something from its rightful place and deposits it in your corner. What you took yesterday you owe back today and sometimes if it’s unearned it may be difficult to do so, because thou shouldn’t had it in the first place.’
>
> ‘The bigger the unearned rewards, all the more difficult for you to balance the scales later,’ Di Cresta had said.
>
> ‘Or return what you owe.’
>
> The guard had let him through, his tutor vague in his answer and the man driving the wagon colorful in the epithets hurled at Tullus for making him stop. Tullus snaked around an elderly couple, people surrounding the immobilized wagon and the guard marching towards the driver, a mean expression on his face. He left the avenue behind and entered Salonius Emporium. The large three-story building was unaccustomedly empty given the crowds just outside it.
>
> Tullus smiled warmly at Verania the young clerk returning it and frowned at the sight of Percy the manager staring outside the window with hatred.
>
> “It’s twisted,” Percy hissed looking at the crowds packing the pavement. “Suddenly if you’re not selling flowers you might as well not exist. In the middle of a siege!” He glared at him. “This must be brought to the Mayor. Such activities must be cordoned and remain near the camps or the Palace.”
>
> Tullus had no idea what he was talking about and he had strict instructions from his tutor to get back as soon as possible.
>
> “Ehm, Mister Di Cresta wants…” he started, Percy talking over him very frustrated.
>
> “I have a fresh cheese delivery stuck at the West Gates. Six wagons. One, two, six!” Percy said counting with his fingers. “A prime deal, fine goat cheese in barrels. Pure white deliciousness! Thick with fat and salted just enough to get more beer down. We’re talking huge profit margin given the shortage in diverse nutrition. Mister Salonius had to go over there to push it through. They have it tossed in the warehouse next to the olives! This is twisted business Carantus.”
>
> “Has Salonius brought the order of parchments for Master Di Cresta?” Tullus asked quickly. They were working on his lecture for two weeks buried in notes and time was of the essence.
>
> “What parchments?”
>
> Tullus gave him Pompeo’s thickly written scroll. Percy took it and read it for a bit afore stopping and yelling at Verania to approach. She did strutting sensually on her heels and Tullus tried not to appear interested, but he failed. That soft yellow dress accentuated her female attributes very distractedly.
>
> “Read this. I can’t make sense of the handwriting,” Percy told her and she started looking at the scroll raising her painted brows.
>
> “Mister Carantus,” Percy said catching him ogling. “Verania is in the clothes department, perhaps she can show you around? Fancy a new tunic?”
>
> “Ahm, I’m not in the market for new clothes Mister Percy,” Tullus replied.
>
> Nor did he have the coin for it.
>
> “That’s your first mistake,” he deadpanned. “And her only job.”
>
> “It’s that large special vellum order from Novesium. The one with different sized tan-colored blank canvases. That’s beautiful archaic-styled script by the way,” Verania said looking at him with a cute smile. Tullus blinked and gulped down slowly.
>
> “Let’s hire him to write our labels then. Novesium you say. There’s a war going on,” Percy grunted not overly impressed. “Come again next week.”
>
> “Will it be here in a week?”
>
> “You know what? Probably not. Come again in two weeks,” Percy replied and showed him the door.
>
> Tullus got out on the busy street again, the buzz even more noticeable now and the crowd growing. He tried to cut across but was pushed forward by scores of excited people trying to head north towards the turn at the White District. He fought against the current at first, but he was bodied, shoved and then carried forward forcefully.
>
> Most people had flowers in their arms. Pink Clovers, the celebratory Carnations and their faces showed an excitement that was palpable. You could feel it in your bones.
>
> A vibration.
>
> It didn’t help Tullus though and he had to get back before Pompeo started his next lesson. He wanted his presentations done in writing first so nothing was missed or forgotten due to an interruption during his lecture. ‘A stupid query, given in a timely manner can ruin a week’s worth of preparation and all you’re left with is the idiot’s grin in the trade.’
>
> Tullus cut hard left through the crowd, pushing flower wielding citizens aside, stumbling over a kid picking up petals from the ground –the streets covered with them- and crashed on a burly officer of the guard that kept the crowd away from the turn towards the Merchants Guild. The road leading to the Palace grounds next and of course Cartagen’s Academy.
>
> The officer lost his balance with a curse, twirling funny on his feet, several people breaking through and the nearby guards snapped their heads towards them. Mostly Tullus that had found himself in the flowers covered strangely pink cobblestone.
>
> He got up a bit dazed, the leather strap of his heavy bag strangling him. Tullus tried to fix it over his shoulder, his dark blue tunic torn and the commotion turning into an explosion of cheers. Even more flowers were hurled on the street, raining pink petals everywhere, the ground shaking at the sound of many hooves and the guards’ boots rushing at him.
>
> Tullus ogled his eyes and ran across the large avenue panicked, a guard tackling him from behind and sending him on the ground again. His teeth rattling, the buzz tuning into a pandemonium and with a cut on his forehead bleeding, Tullus tried to get up again.
>
> A backhand stopped the young assistant. Then a punch in the gut and someone got him in a vicious headlock, another guard shouting in his bloody face irate. Tullus opened his mouth to speak struggling for air, but nothing came out, the cheering of the crowd stopping abruptly and a huge dark grey warhorse with patches of white on its snout towering over them.
>
> “Lord Alden,” the guard said as the insane sound subsided and the huge crowd turned to watch the unfolding event. “He tried to go through but we stopped him sire. It’s the dungeons for him.”
>
> A scared Tullus stared at the man atop the magnificent warhorse, the sun gleaming on the bronze and gold details of his armour, the engraved epaulettes, the fierce red cape and the face half-hidden under that imposing gold helm. It had the head of a Blacktiger sculpted on it, the eyes of the man under the helm piercing through his soul.
>
> “What does the old man have you do?” He asked in a deep cultured voice, a hint of tease in it and the crowd gasped aloud unsure on his meaning. “That’s an Academy clerk’s tunic and given you’ve almost got run over by horses to cut through a well-publicized official parade, no other thought in mind,” the man on the great horse continued this time smiling. “You must be working for Professor Di Cresta.”
>
> “He has… a lecture starting in less than an hour,” Tullus croaked, the guard allowing him to speak loosening the hold on his throat.
>
> The man nodded in understanding. “You can’t miss that,” he said warmly and staring at the guards Lord Alden had added. “Let him through.”
>
> And they did.
>
>
[https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiErfQ6S6Qc0PS6SGx_MgeBDz7wKr9VGGQTabrbT75EPJ0OX74uN-jDhenW0ZZqv-5AaZ3wWhgYpdpAbCgFit0-3d3urztXoqU1pWg5MfrnicZScKw2aTOWz0KrOhLdOUpuIrimCofo73RU3qR8nN8h16JDmfjWHdUNwgNzCMOhpbS6CSkMFt7VN2f2sAw/s2000/Cartagen%20v2.jpg]
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Praetor Lucius Alden
The King of Cartagen
Part II
-Place it on the scales-
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Twenty days into the Fall of 193NC
North (Flowers) Tower
Cartagen
Lucius accepted the silver and gold adorned leather reins from Gripa and climbed on Nightsilver. He checked the bindings on his heavy parade helm, then his newly finished armour and then glanced at the suspiciously staring at the fancy royal carriage clad in her –also new- red and black leather armour Faye. The driver’s assistant smile now frozen on his face as the moment dragged and the man’s back that remained bent at a half-bow probably hurting already.
“Eh, just blame the Goddess,” a bloated but dressed in her loose silk gown Monica hissed at Faye’s side and took the officer’s arm to climb up the three steps breathing heavy. “At least we’ll be in the shade. My head is hurting more than my back. Not many body parts are left, so I better save my legs gentlemen.”
“You got to get in there too Red,” Lucius told her. “Else they’ll not move.”
“I can ride a horse Alden,” Faye argued. “This looks like a good box to carry hides.”
“The smell is close it. Cleaning oil, leathery. Bet it stays on our bottoms,” Monica commented and Lucius glared at her to keep her witticisms to a minimum for the time being.
While she enjoyed the fanfare, Faye could start a fight.
“You’ll hide us in a box?” The redhead asked him, her reason for objecting more clear now.
“I would never. Now speaking of boxes, it’s a fancy one yes? And speaking of horses, you aren’t riding one my lady.”
“I want to see the people’s faces!”
“It has windows Faye, Gods have mercy,” Lucius countered and Monica chuckled from inside the carriage.
Mercifully his northern wife finally yielding.
“Move aside and keep yer hands to yerself,” Faye warned the accommodating still half-stooped assistant and climbed inside as well. “Stay in your couch girl. It’s for yer own good,” she warned Monica that went to hug her for support. “I want to have room to draw me blade proper.”
“Why?” Monica asked sounding equally sad and shocked.
“I’ll tell ye later.”
Lucius turned to the stoically listening in Captain Percival Gaeta, Lord Valens adjutant waiting patiently on his horse without commenting. “Keep your men at the outside of the formation Captain. The Second Cohort will march after us, so we shall keep a steady tempo and make good time.”
“As you wish Lord Alden,” Gaeta agreed coming alive, clad in his polished Cartagen cuirass with the engraved longsword stabbed in rock crest on his chest. The Captain was commanding the Cartagen guards stationed at the West Gates before the High Baron had assumed overall command.
Lucius started his horse going down the cleaned large avenue that went parallel to the outside walls for a while, following the Mayor’s Vines. The Mayor being Paulus Messor, one of the two most powerful families of merchants in the city along Claud Salonius that is. It would turn south alongside the lush black and rich-gold grape-laden vines, the time of the year just before harvest, then continue until the Merchants Guild building turn, passing by some of the richest villas of the capital built directly east over their left shoulder.
“We have quite the crowd assembled my Lord,” Gaeta commented in his pleasant familiar accent. Not as rigid as the Common spoken in Armium his late mother used to speak, or as curt as those of Riverdor and Issir’s Eagle, but equally refined and nowhere near as informal, flowery or coarse as the language spoken down the rest of the Lorian Coast.
Or the North of course.
The city sprawling before his eyes bathed in the morning sun. Its modern truss roofs, or the older prop-and-lintel method of the smaller marble temples. A predominance of engraved columns at the façade, a uniformed ibrex and tegula type overlapping roof tiles at the top made out of reddish fired clay, but also marble and even gilt made waterproof with the same technique.
“I can see them,” Lucius replied standing up straighter on the saddle. “Lord Valens?”
“You have his apologies my Lord. We had a breech in the walls last night and his lordship went to oversee the repairs. I’m informed he’ll join us at the palace. Perhaps Baron Vendor as well, if Lesia takes the day off.”
“Let’s not disturb the city’s defense,” Lucius said, glancing at the first signs of the crowd trying to break through the corner at the turn, the guards stopping them. Pink flowers were hurled over the soldiers from the cheering citizens and dropped before their horses’ hooves on the cobblestone. “You repair the damages then?”
“All the time,” Gaeta replied. “We have tons of building material and just use King’s Bridge to bring them in the city.”
“Food?”
“Some rationing, but Cartagen had always enough to export down the coast. Maybe some specific products. Like cheese, some garbs and red meat. We have fish though aplenty.”
“The North walls were a bit worn down,” Lucius noticed.
“Flooding. Last couple of winters, maybe three, not much work was done there,” Gaeta replied.
“No pressure from the King’s men?”
“No King has visited the city,” Percival Gaeta replied enthused. “Since your father perished my Lord.”
And afore Lucius was his meaning.
> They say everyone in Cartagen remembers where he was when Lucius Alden returned to the capital. While most of them were probably outside packing the Main Street and raining it with carnations there were several that weren’t and not all flowers were of one type. Red and white roses were present as well, gladiolus and orange daisies blooming in abundance at the Flower Heights.
>
> The men defending the walls under Baron Vendor couldn’t be there, other civil servants and notably Lucius’ old Tutor Pompeo Di Cresta who had a lecture on photosynthesis and the importance of sunbathing the whole of a plant and not just its branches. Famously the lesson was attended by the scholar himself and a couple of clerks but no students or other academics.
>
> Even so, Di Cresta finished talking to the empty seats of the auditorium and retired to work on a solution to the shortage of quality vellum that plagued the besieged city. His detailed work on it and the formula to a thick pulp made out of wood chippings was left unfinished and the product he envisioned called Carantus Papyrus today, or commonly paper, was finally created by his famed student and academic Tullus Carantus ten years after the scholar’s death.
>
> Lucius' large procession, his close entourage and aides, a six-horse carriage bringing his wives Lady Faye and Lady Monica, his young son Prince Heir Roderick, several other officials, officers of the Third Legion and the 2nd Cohort led by Centurion Merenda entered the city from the North Gates, turned south at Mayor’s Vines turn and slowed down to a crawl facing the crowds that had gathered in the Main Street.
>
> They say half the city, or two-thirds of it was out in the streets. A ludicrous notion for some today as that would mean that more than a hundred thousand people were sardined in the streets. Having been present myself, I attest to the number and perhaps raise it some. The crowd that gathered outside the palace grounds at the end was the largest I have ever seen in my life. More like a colony of ants than people, the buzz and thunderous ovations still ringing in my ears.
>
> Anyway, it proceeded slowly from there, the civilians cheering the Praetor’s name in an increasing frenzy and the road covered with flowers. Such was the passion of the crowds that the ruckus was heard beyond the south walls and gates all the way to Lesia’s camp like a distant thunderstorm. Women and children were dressed in their finer clothes and for a moment a much divided city turned into one entity to welcome Regia’s legitimate heir.
>
> Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
>
> Under thunderous cheers and scenes that have been described in bards’ songs and many official and unofficial retellings, Lucius reached the Palace grounds where a contingent of Royal Knights waited under Sir Seleucid Merenda himself and the freshly arrived from the frontlines Baron Valens.
>
> For the first time since King Alistair’s death years earlier the four large bells at the four top corners of the massive Palace of a Hundred Windows rang continuously, the festive racket reaching every part of the besieged city. The thousands in attendance that had followed Lucius and his men poured inside the Central Market and the edges of the nearby baths to watch from afar as he stopped his horse at the Palace ground gates, turned and waved at them placing a hand on his heart for minutes, before entering the premises.
LUCIUS!
THE KING IS HERE!
ALL HAIL REGIA’S TIGER!
KING LUCIUS!
GODS KEEP HIM!
A sweaty Lucius climbed down from his horse afore the long stairs of the palace, his head hurting and ears ringing from the noise of the people that could be heard cheering even now a kilometer away from them, the crowd still gathering outside the gates and the palace ground walls.
He nodded at the Royal Knights standing at attention and walked to the carriage to check on his wives, but spotted a weary Baron Valens coming down the stairs and had to stop, turn around to greet him.
The commander of the Royal Guard Sir Seleucid, Antonius’ father walking briskly behind the Lord of Cartaport. A mountain of a man, still imposing in the fifth decade of his life.
“My Lord Lucius,” the Baron said and bowed his head. “I welcome your highness to Cartagen and apologize for not waiting by the gates.”
Lucius nodded and tended his right arm. Valens grabbed it with both hands and bowed his head again. “Your presence lifts the heart my Lord,” he said and Lucius touched his left shoulder comfortingly.
“I appreciate your efforts good Baron,” Lucius said. “Know I won’t easily forget it.”
“Gratitude my Lord. We did all we could,” Valens replied. A much older-looking man than what Lucius remembered him. “My condolences for your father and royal sister,” he added visibly uncertain on the proper protocol for the occasion.
Lucius didn’t care about that.
“And you have mine for your son Declan,” Lucius replied. “He fell a hero to a coward’s blade. An excellent officer.”
“I appreciate your words my Lord. We all mourn losses unfortunately. It is a time of sorrow, but your presence brings the hope for a better morrow.”
Lucius nodded, suddenly feeling rusty engaging in normal polite conversation after so many years living with the army. “Is Sir Antony here?”
“He’s badly injured, but we hope for a recovery,” Valens replied with a grimace. “Sir Maximilian is. He’s standing over there,” he pointed at a young Royal Knight behind them.
“Let’s pray to Luthos for a swift recovery,” Lucius replied finding his footing. “Sir Seleucid, I believe you’ve grown a couple of inches?”
“Hah-ha,” the hale knight chuckled. “Only at the waist my Lord. It’s the helm and the new plumes,” he replied in his baritone voice.
“I’ve your son Marcus-Antonius standing outside the gates,” Lucius informed him. “A Centurion no less.”
“Best to leave him there,” Sir Seleucid replied furrowing his brows under his open helm. “Your wives are quite lovely and refreshingly round Lord Lucius. I wouldn’t trust him near them.”
Lucius stood back unsure and Baron Valens intervened diplomatically.
“Let us enter the Palace and offer the Ladies a refreshment, perhaps the opportunity to rest?”
“Ahm, yes… Lady Faye,” Lucius said turning to introduce his wife that had exited the carriage holding Roderick’s little hand. “Lady Monica Holt and that is my son Roderick.”
“Big!” Roderick said aloud pointing at the Palace.
“Quite so Sir Roderick,” the Baron said with a smile. “Lady Faye, Lady Monica, if you be so kind to follow the good knights up the stairs.”
“Eh,” Monica griped fanning her flushed face. “I’ll need help. All this roundness comes with certain demands Sir Knight,” the latter she had addressed to the smiling Sir Seleucid.
Lucius glanced at Faye, but she marched up the stairs with Roderick in tow and he went to help the pregnant young woman, waving a couple of eager knights away. Gripa and Salvian followed after them leaving Nero and Lanus to take care of their horses.
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Lucius paused at the entrance to return the palace guards salute and noticed the elderly Chamberlain Cyrus Falx, distant kin to Centurion Falx and longtime serving member of his father’s court. Cyrus was close to seventy years old.
“Your highness,” the dignified old man said, dressed in simple but clean clothes and escorted by a young man resembling him. “I came to welcome you in person. This is my son. Cyrus the younger.”
“Appreciate it dear Cyrus. I was going to come inside. You didn’t have to wait in the sun. These are my wives and son,” Lucius replied. “Lady Faye, Lady Monica and little Roderick.”
“I have retired after the King’s death Lord Lucius,” Cyrus elucidated. “The Queen had brought her own people in and another Chamberlain. It was getting rather crowded sire.”
“I see,” Lucius replied. “Well, you seem healthy enough to me and I heard the Queen’s people left with her.”
“That is correct my Lord. As you said also, I’ve plenty of years left in me.”
Lucius smiled and glanced at the flushed Faye standing next to an equally frustrated Monica. “How soon can you return?” He asked the elderly palace official.
“Right away my Lord.”
“Then I believe we should go inside now Cyrus,” Lucius said and walked through the entrance.
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Baron Valens immediately ordered some of the Knight’s to open more windows in the central hall. The marble throne at the center had large windows on both sides all the way to the double doors afore the corridor coming from the entrance.
Despite the lushness and well-preserved familiar surroundings it was evident the place hadn’t being used in a while. Faye stared uncertain at the statues situated on the east side and next to each columned floor-to-ceiling windows there. She had paused, then walked to the first one, Monica stopping at the first chair and sitting down with a groan to rest, little Roderick following after his mother.
The procession stopped abruptly, Faye unaware of the protocol and the knights assuming her higher status not wanting to risk insulting Lucius on what was the first day on the job.
“Is that a pet tiger?”
“It is. That’s Lord Remus next to it, the first King’s father. He finished building the walls of Alden around fifty years afore the New Calendar started,” Lucius explained, pointing at the next statue in line, then the one after it. “That’s King Lucius the First. He took over from Remus twenty four years later, assumed the throne three decades after that and in 10 NC brought the capital here. Reigned until 24 NC and died a very old man to be succeeded by his younger brother Caius, who reigned only until 29 NC being up there in years as well.”
“I got beaten to learn the dates in school and still don’t recall them. Good grief, where were you then to help out?” Monica groaned from her spot in dismay.
Faye’s gaze fell on the long row of Kings and then further back at the tall throne.
“This is yours then Alden?” she asked unsure.
“It belongs to Regia,” Lucius replied humbly and Baron Valens who was listening in cleared his throat and added having made his mind up in the time it took them to enter the Palace of a Hundred Windows.
“With all the respect my Lord, if I could answer Lady Faye’s query,” the Baron of Cartaport had said. “Lord Lucius is Regia my Lady.”
His words making a deep impression on Lucius wife.
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Lucius spent another ten minutes showing his wife around the great hall and as soon as Faye departed with Roderick and an exhausted Monica for their second floor quarters escorted by Cyrus, his son and Sir Maximilian, he turned to the expecting Baron Valens and his adjutant Percival Gaeta.
“Gentlemen I’m all ears,” Lucius said calmly.
Gaeta grabbed an armful of maps from a young aide and placed them at a conference table on the west side of the illuminated hall. The Palace’s main building complex had twenty windows on each side of the cross-shaped facade.
“You have my support Lord Lucius,” Montague Valens started. “Baron Vendor's as well of course. I wasn’t asked and by the time the news reached us it was too late. We were left to believe Queen Miranda would have stayed on the throne until your return.”
“I understand Baron Valens,” Lucius said.
“Sula and Holt complicated things refusing the arrangement outright, but we couldn’t go against the Queen’s wishes.”
“Where’s the Queen Sir Seleucid?” Lucius asked the sober Merenda.
“It is widely presumed that she left with Sir Rottas Barnard after stepping down from the throne and was never seen again.”
“My father had given Sir Rottas to her. What are you saying?”
“He is the Queen’s own guard my Lord. The one closest to her,” Baron Valens intervened.
“I refuse to believe Sir Rottas Barnard had an affair with the Queen Regent, while my father was in his deathbed,” Lucius said through his teeth. “If that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m not,” Valens replied. “But he was the last man seen with her.”
“We are missing the former Queen of Regia?”
“It’s a turbulent time Lord Lucius, but while I could, I would never throw gossip, or rumors at you.”
“Who would?”
“Marc Laudus is the new guy. Works for your brother.”
“Nattas?”
“The Petty Baron’s whereabouts are a mystery. If he’s alive still.”
“Jeremy would have him killed?” Lucius asked narrowing his eyes.
“He tried to overthrow Duke Ursus and take control of Novesium. He failed and we haven’t heard from him since.”
Lucius breathed out and stared at the busy checking on the maps Gaeta. “What is the situation?”
“We were in trouble for a moment,” Valens replied. “But your appearance destabilized Lesia’s plan.”
“What is their plan in your opinion?”
“Taking control of Cartaport, which they have managed unfortunately,” Valens said with a grimace. “I had to reinforce our troops at the Flower Bridge.”
“How many did you lose?”
“We have close to two thousand casualties, but half of them we lost in the North front.”
“Lesia has at least six divisions in Cartaport, plus the 2nd Legion,” Lucius started stooping over the map that had valuable updated details about the enemy forces. He hadn’t had access to them before and Lucius immediately realized something he didn’t know. “Their marines are there as well. A division attacked at the Grand Bridge, but they couldn’t hold on to it, or advance.”
“That would be Sir Darius, the king’s son,” Valens agreed.
“Tworivers defends there with the troops from Elysium Fort,” Lucius said reading the numbers. “Eight hundred men.”
“That’s correct.”
“Assuming they raised six, or six thousand men. Two divisions Lennox kept west of Cartagen and two at the center, one he lost with Caxaton. That’s it then, plus the marines… and the 2nd Legion.”
“That’s a lot of well-trained troops.”
“Nowhere near enough though and we have control of the North front,” Lucius replied. “I have a couple of thousand prisoners already and they probably have nothing left in Flauegran, if Sir Riveras rushed to retreat there.”
“How many does he have?”
“A thousand, but I have a Cohort blocking them,” Lucius replied. “Two at the Wine Bridge. Assuming Lesia will sent the 2nd Legion… hmm. Can they maintain the front with Duke Lennox’s men?”
“You are talking of an assault?”
“Sir Seleucid you have the royal guard at the south walls?” Lucius asked disregarding the Baron’s query.
“The Cartagen regulars hold the walls,” Merenda replied. “Lord Lucius—”
“Allow me to finish Seleucid,” Lucius stopped him and turned to Baron Valens. “You have enough forces to push Duke Lennox away Baron, but it will be costly. So we’ll try a feint. Use the 2nd Cohort and the Royal Guard to attack them immediately, or as soon as possible. Try and damage their siege engines. They’ve pushed them up the slope I see. Not easy to move them on the quick.”
“Attack them,” Valens repeated.
“A night attack. The men are there, the weather still fine. We’ll use Legion banners.”
The Baron licked his lips. “What would be our intention my Lord?”
“Hit them hard and retreat in a timely manner behind the walls,” Lucius replied. “They’ll see legionnaires and assume I’ve brought the Legion here.”
“So they will then move against the Cohort at Sava? How is this helpful?” Valens asked.
“No. They don’t know which Legion is there and it’s incredibly difficult to have trustworthy information at such distances,” Lucius replied. “Logic will dictate I brought both legions here with Sula not in Asturia using the same route I’ve taken. Since I don’t have three Legions at my disposal, they’ll notify Caxaton to attempt a break out. We’ll tell him ourselves if they fail. They’ll attack us as a distraction and we’ll keep the 2nd Cohort visible on the walls, but move your regulars towards the North Gates and reinforce the forces there.”
“You want Caxaton to attack.”
“I do,” Lucius replied sternly. “So I can finish him off.”
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“She’s sleeping,” Faye replied that night. “Quite pleased on the quality of her bed I might add.”
“Lady Faye your command of the tongue has improved,” Lucius teased her and walked to the open window to stare at the silent gardens and the lights of the city. Not all parts of Cartagen were illuminated, but the White District was and it was quite the spectacle.
“Fuck me, it’s her fault,” Faye cursed and approached him. “King Lucius the Third,” she murmured. “Those people love you. It’s scary.”
“Crowds are like that.”
“Not where I’m from. I haven’t seen that many people. Not even in Asturia,” she replied.
“We brought hope. It helped,” Lucius played it down.
“How can you be unaffected?” She asked curious. “I was shaking allover at the sound. That was otherworldly.”
“You should see the crowd’s reactions in a big tourney,” Lucius smiled. “They really go wild.”
“You grew up with all this. All the noise, the crowds, huge estates and riches,” Faye told him and hugged his waist, placing her cheek on his shoulder. “Left it all to bring Zofia home. Pushed everything away even at some point and lived the life of a warlord. The North made you forget it, until it didn’t. And through all of it you remain unfazed.”
No. I’m not.
“I need to keep a level head. It’s my duty. People need to see that everything will be alight. Yes, I was moved for being back home. I teared up on the saddle, but after that, the crowd’s reactions… can’t rattle me further than that. I’m just better trained than you. There’s no mystery here.”
“It’s not easy for anyone else Alden.”
“What are you saying Red?”
“People love you instinctively for good reason.”
“Not all people. Some lords for sure don’t.”
“How many is enough?” Faye asked.
“That’s not what I’m looking for,” Lucius replied.
“The North. All of Regia. That’s a lot of people.”
“The Kingdom must be whole,” Lucius said. “It falls on me to make it happen. I never pushed that away, nor have I ever forgotten.”
“I know,” Faye replied with a deep sigh. “It is fear by the way what those lords feel. All of them really. Them priestesses back in Asturia,” she added. “Not hatred or love. Monica had said that and now I understand it. They need you desperately now. They tried it their way and failed. They need you and slowly they’ll realize it. Your brother never had a chance eh?”
“Jeremy lost his way. Listened to bad advice.”
“Or maybe he’s bad like Oscar was,” Lucius grimaced at her words. “What happens when they don’t need you anymore?” Faye asked after a small pause.
“I won’t leave them that option Red. Life seeks balance and people want to avoid ruin. They’ll place everything on the scales and see reason. Hopefully,” he replied and kissed her head. “Logan can stay inside the palace,” Lucius added noticing the campfires inside the palace gardens.
“Better that he doesn’t,” Faye said with a chuckle. “All this is alien to him, much more that it is for me.”
> The crowd had recognized Lucius as the King of Cartagen. No ceremony was held and he got busy immediately with the unfolding events in the field. It was like a void that had been left open for too long had suddenly been filled. It changed the dynamics of the siege for starters.
>
> A foray outside the walls brought legionnaires almost to Duke Lennox’s camp near the farm settlement of Greenville and overran his machines. Lesia regained control later in the day bringing reinforcements from Cartaport, but the rattled Duke halted Legatus Pintor from departing. Lord Caxaton would attempt to break out a week later, but he got mauled in the battle of the Vine Garden, the demoralized soldiers splitting into many smaller groups and abandoning the field.
>
> Lord Caxaton would retreat again to spend the winter close to the mountains, but with the conditions worsening and Cartagen’s defenders pressing him all the time in many smaller skirmishes, his force would melt away in less than two months.
>
> In the meantime, Lesia’s response to the threat at Sava was to be delayed again, as Drusus Sula won the brief siege of Novesium and Duke Ursus had to escape in a ship leaving his family behind. Further down the coast, Duke Sula defended against Brakis forces and when they retreated he followed them back to the gates of Aegium. He attacked there and lost after a spirited defense by Sextus-Brakis marine forces. Drusus asked his cousin if he wanted to come to his aid or continue towards the Capital and Duke Sula told him to ‘keep on advancing.’
>
> That was it. His full written reply.
>
> Drusus did, marched up the coastal road and joined forces with the Elysium and Tworivers troops.
>
> They attacked beyond the Grand Bridge in a coordinated action with the defenders inside Cartagen and pushed Sir Darius’ outnumbered division back. Duke Lennox had to narrow his front and retreated in turn towards Cartaport, with the relocated to that side of the front 2nd Legion stopping Drusus outside Cartaport in a bloody engagement that won Lesia time, but nothing else.
>
> On the coast, the Illirium forces attacked the falling back Duke Sula that same month, but the Duke of Demames, a difficult to demoralize, known counter-puncher general, won the second battle three days later and routed them off the field.
>
> It came as no surprise when in the last month of that year, Duke Paulus ‘the Brusque’ Sula’s battered force -after years of fighting- entered Aegium and captured several members of Lord Doris’ family inside the palace, amongst them the young ‘Petite Rhodium Rose’ Sandra Alden. When brave Sir Opiter, the Duke’s firstborn and commander of Demames Regulars asked the young noble scion to follow his men, Lady Sandra famously replied that she wouldn’t ‘since the weather is awful outside,’ and ordered the hardened knight to vacate her quarters.
>
> King Jeremy asked Lesia for a resolution and an end to hostilities as he had the bulk of his forces tied up in Asturia, but Lesia while wanting to be accommodating couldn’t. There was another King in Cartagen that had them tied up on two distant fronts. In Sava where they had gathered forces to dislodge what they believed was the Fourth Legion and in Cartaport where they were trying to hold on against the Third Legion.
>
> Lesia’s false intelligence, helped by Nonus Sula’s legion missing from Asturia as he was still held up beyond the Canlita Sea in the siege of Tollor, led Regia’s Council to attempt to blindside Lucius moving against Asturia, or cut him off with an excursion at the Tunnel Pass after the winter. Lucius who remained in Cartagen for a couple of months due to Lady Monica giving birth to twins in the second month of Fall -a girl named Vacia and a boy they named Alistair- would move faster than them again.
>
> Praetor Maximus Lucius Aldenus the Third, officially assumed the throne of Regia on this date the early Fall of 193 NC ‘with voice and sword’ as Trupo writes in his memoirs, although many insist this happened when he entered Asturia a year earlier, or seven months after that in 194 NC. The Bloody Tiger of the South was thirty two years old and he would be a father for a fourth time five months later to another boy by Queen consort Faye Alden. In a strange coincidence with the exception of Prince Heir Roderick, all his other children were born in Cartagen.
>
>
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter II
>
> (Lord Lucius Alden,
>
> -also addressed-
>
> Legatus Augustus, Praetor Maximus, King Lucius the Third
>
> Southern campaigns,
>
> Fifth year
>
> Volume X
>
> Eighteen Months Offensive
>
> Part IV
>
> Section subtitle
>
> -The leaping Tiger-
>
> Prelude to the series of battles fought in the Lorian Plains
>
> Winter of 194)
>
>