>
> Prefect Betto paused, a hand scratching at his thick beard protruding out of his legion helm. He glanced at the familiar boney face of the old general unsure.
>
> “These are your standing orders Faustus? Over all other objectives?” He asked and Ligur nodded.
>
> “First chance you get Prefect,” Ligur replied without hesitation or mincing his words. Lord Scylla’s eyes were hollow and sunk in. The eyes of a soulless corpse crashed by guilt. “Every unit leader has the same instructions. Spare everyone else but do not hesitate. This is the humane way. For Regia.”
>
> Prefect Betto saluted sharply. “For Regia general!”
>
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Lucius Alden,
‘Bloody Tiger’
Lord Lucius Aldenus the third,
Praetor Maximus,
King Lucius III
Lorian Plains | Ol’ Scrawny (2/3)
-Day of hurt-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
> “INCOMING!” Centurion Keegan Dixon had bellowed and then half the 2nd Century had turned into red goo. Sure it was a crude goo with whole pieces of flesh and armour in it. Bones, spleens, cracked helms and cracked heads. Several torsos speared through with iron bolts and severed legs at the thighs still wearing sandals.
>
> ‘A blooming bloody mess.’
>
> Gore exploded three meters high, a fine red spray that mixed with the thin snow falling. It splashed on the ground, painting the grass crimson and clattered on nearby shields. People screamed and groaned in pain, some panic rattled the lines of the 1st Century and Silvius had to sprint to the front, all four Decani running after him. Toft, Jensen, Busk and Dall.
>
> Over a hundred meters away, but it could have been more in his haste, Silvius caught a glimpse of the engineers reattaching the shafts to the Scorpios after lifting them to insert the small wheeled bottoms –cart like- underneath. Then the whole group was galloping away and he heard cavalry thundering to their west.
>
> “Toft get back to yer unit!” Silvius barked to his officer. “Same goes for the rest of ye cunts!” He glared at the stunned Northmen. “Motherfuckers what are you waiting for? We have horses coming.”
>
> “Well… that’s a bug up the pee-hole,” Decanus Jensen commented colorfully.
>
> “It’s Long’s banner, Centurion!” The always keen-eyed Decanus Toft standing further back bellowed to be heard and a still shook Silvius peeled his eyes off the maimed 2nd Century that tried to regroup away from the road.
>
> ‘While it is always nice walking on solid terrain and witness where to slot yer boot so as not to step on turds, ye don’t want to stand visible with big ole fucking bolts falling around you.’
>
> He glared at the arriving, covered in mud officer and moved against him the moment a pale Optio Long jumped from the saddle.
>
> “You lanky son of a dilapidated bitch!” Silvius grunted irate. “Fucking led us into a trap! Are ye scouts blind or drunk?”
>
> “They got the worst of it Centurion!” A frothing at the mouth like his horse Long spat bitterly narrowing his eyes.
>
> “We got plenty of iron cock too Optio!” Silvius gave back some of the spit thrown at him.
>
> “They have machines drawn by horses. A blasted lot of them. The scouts missed them for we have cavalry further west to deal with also,” a sour-faced Long retorted raspingly. “The plains are sown with booby-traps there Silvius,” the cavalry officer explained. “I had to turn the horses around. You can’t scout for clear paths under fire. Those darn machines were hidden at our flank!”
>
> Silvius grimaced and eyed the returning riders, afore glancing towards the moving away war-machines. “Jensen!” He barked after he did. “Yes you! Did ye have yer name changed? Get yer maniple to assist the 2nd Century. Get those hurt men out of the road! People be screaming me ears off lad!”
>
> Jensen crooked his mouth, eyes squinting under the legion helm.
>
> His whole face joining into the grimace.
>
> “Eh,” he grunted finally. “Not many are moving, less have all their parts attached sir! Perhaps we should wait for Marianus medics?”
>
> “Forget about the gods darn medics! It ain’t a darned debate! Move those that breathe, irregardless of missing parts Decanus!” Silvius blasted him, more spittle flying out of his mouth.
>
> “Aye Centurion!” Jensen boomed and returned to his Maniple.
>
> Silvius turned to Optio Long that had returned to his horse. “I need intel on where them mounted fuckers are Optio,” he grunted.
>
> Long paused with a foot on his stirrup and turned to glare at him. “Just move after us Centurion,” he rustled warningly. “Fan out, we are not on parade nor in Cartagen. I have men shadowing the mounted engineers to find out more.”
>
> Silvius licked his lips. “You think they’ll head for Holt’s Stable?”
>
> “It appears so but I’ve no idea where that is,” the cavalry officer admitted. “Nor am I familiar with the terrain, flat as it may be. At least it’s snowing.”
>
> Silvius nodded although he didn’t find the change in weather helpful.
Eighteen Months Offensive
5th of Primus 194,
Code named -18 plus 14-
Campaign Day 395
Winter
A kilometer from the mouth of the Tunnel Pass
III Legio’s rear units afore the Supply Trains wagons
[https://i.postimg.cc/GrnykKYg/Holt-s-Stable.jpg]
Nasica stopped his horse near an agitated Lucius. He attempted to speak but Lucius beat him to it frustrated.
“You can’t hurry to the front,” he said which was what the officer wanted to report. His riders were moving single file at the edge of the wagons that is before one of the leading ones lost an axle, toppled to the side spilling its contents and blocked the whole narrow passage.
“We have spooked the animals. We keep this on and we might have more accidents,” Nasica replied.
“How long at this rate?” Lucius grunted patting Nightsilver’s mane to calm the warhorse down. Mules and horses were sardined next to people, soldiers and wagons. Some of the closed carriages had stopped and Nattas came down to watch the chaos unfolding.
“Half a day for my men,” Nasica reported and grimaced. “Kolt wants the heavier machines left behind until all other wagons come through.”
“I want those Scorpios in the field,” Lucius retorted pursing his lips. “But I’ll see to make time.”
He stopped as Ramirus approached pushing through the crews working to repair the wagon.
“Praetor,” Ramirus saluted clad in polished legion armour and draped in a black cloak. “The Tribune ordered all forward units to prepare for battle.”
“The enemy turned around?” Lucius asked raspingly.
“They attacked Long and Silvius. We have casualties,” Ramirus reported.
“Cavalry?”
“Artillery,” Ramirus replied. “Horse-drawn.”
Damn you old man. You don’t have to do this.
“Earg,” Lucius growled ineligibly. “Nasica get your men out of the Tunnel Pass,” he ordered brusquely. “Turn around Ramirus, we’re heading to the front.”
“Lord Lucius,” Nattas said approaching, a hard-faced armed thug shoving people away to clear the road for him. A reserved pale-faced Sirio following after them. “What’s the problem?”
“Ligur is waiting on the other side,” Lucius retorted and turned his horse around.
“The whole Legion?” Nattas asked in disbelief.
Lucius glanced at him, his jaw clenched. Nattas returned his intense stare coolly. Ah, there’s that fierce, smart but well-hidden character, Lucius thought. No reason to hide anymore Storm or pretend eh? Are all your enemies dead or do you simply don’t care?
Is this a new scheme you’re working on?
“That would be a shock,” he finally said and Storm nodded, both hands resting on his cane, eyes watching the soft snow falling all over them.
“Ligur isn’t here. It’s too far from his base,” the Baron said. “But he’s on the move for sure. This is a misdirection.”
Yeah, Lucius agreed and went after Ramirus without word.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
The wind rapped at his face the moment they came down from the Pass. Some snowflakes mixed in it but not much and it wasn’t staying on the ground. The brittle rocky terrain gave way to hard gravel, tightly packed as the road opened up. The Plains started not a kilometer from the east side of the Pass, with the hills and peaks of Hat-Top to their west and further to their east the green mass of the forest, covered in cold mist. The great river was many kilometers away but the volume of water kept everything ‘near’ it humid enough to feel every gush.
Lucius galloped past the 1st Cohort and some engineers that had started marking the flat ground to prepare a camp a couple of kilometers from the mouth. He headed for the banners at the front to look for Galio but the Tribune had moved further north –a distance of another two kilometers- and was with Falx’s 3rd Cohort that had dressed its lines in squares to march down the road. Gaeta’s regulars doing the same half a kilometer to their west and near the mountains base.
Lucius jumped from his horse lithely and walked towards the officers meeting, under the hastily built pavilion at the edge of the ten meter wide road. The grass had been cleared there and where men or horses had went over but it rose up to chest level further up ahead. Behind him Ramirus stopped as well, along a couple of knights that had managed to follow after the King and the traffic jam inside the Tunnel Pass.
“Milord,” Galio said brusquely after saluting smartly. “The enemy retreated again.”
“What happened afore that?” Lucius grunted and snatched a report Trupo had offered him. The ink on it still wet and running.
“A couple of cavalry skirmishes,” Galio said, Lucius grimacing at the casualty numbers. He returned the scroll to a frowned Trupo. “Long lashed out to push them away but got himself near Scorpios. Silvius got a bit of a licking as well.”
“They didn’t attack?” a grim-faced Lucius asked.
“They up and hoofed it away,” Galio retorted. “Milord.”
“Where’s Merenda?”
“Sent him to cover the flank near the forest,” Galio said. “He found cavalry hiding in there but they squared up fast and they left them alone.”
Lucius nodded and stooped over a tactical map. Several markings hastily drawn to depict recent changes in topography.
“That the forest road?”
“Six kilometers to our east. It comes out near the mouth but it’s not easy to spot, unless you step on it.”
“Ligur missed it?” Lucius queried and calculated the distance to the settlement. Too far away.
“Don’t believe he bothered, milord.”
“Why not follow it back to the river? He could have taken the landing spot there, control the clearing and prevent Croton from using it.”
Galio shrugged his shoulders. “Too distant from the front is me guess.”
Yeah but still…
“Have the 3rd Cohort move up. Keep it at the center,” Lucius decided. “Support Silvius. Lepidus,” he added eyeing the Centurion. “Have Falx proceed with caution and see to Silvius’ wounded. Marianus is coming down the Pass soon.”
“You think they’ll string us all the way back to Holt’s Stable milord?” Galio asked.
“Aye,” Lucius replied. “How many machines?”
“At least thirty,” Trupo replied. “Maybe more.”
“That’s a big supply train to keep it running. Plus the horses,” Lucius commented with a grimace. “They are definitely retreating towards the settlement and their supplies. Can we catch them?”
“Long could but he reports trapped fields across both sides of the road. He’s looking to identify the markings they use to navigate them. But it’ll take time,” Trupo replied.
“Anyone has their numbers?” Lucius asked wearily and wiped the moisture from his face. Snow melted on his helm but it wasn’t really cold anymore. The weather was turning again.
“Silvius reported legionnaires. Maybe a Cohort,” Trupo replied. “Davy added some regulars to that. Spear infantry on horse probably. They deployed near the machines and left with them.”
“More cavalry to our west?”
“Some of that too but we don’t have the numbers,” Trupo admitted pulling at his mustache sadly.
“Could Ligur have spared more than a Cohort here?” Lucius asked Galio who was familiar with the Legatus.
“Depends on what he plans to do.”
“Anyone has any idea why he didn’t fight us here?”
The fact had surprised Lucius as despite knowing the danger they couldn’t really avoid it and it was a ripe opportunity for their enemy. They had to come out of the Tunnel Pass right at this spot. There was no other way.
Nobody could offer him anything and he sighed tiredly.
“He didn’t want to risk his men?” Trupo finally suggested. “A Cohort couldn’t stop us here and we could always message Croton to flank them through the forest.”
“Ligur ain’t skittish to casualties if they can bring him the result he seeks,” Galio argued and Lucius grimaced in frustration.
“Get me a report on casualties and enemy numbers that’s accurate Trupo,” he ordered.
If Ligur wanted them to fight for the settlement they would. Lucius intended to take it all along.
> Optio Long suffered a setback as he was caught by Celsus modified Scorpios and couldn’t retaliate in a timely manner allowing the born in Vinterfort -son of a desert-goat herder- engineer to retreat towards Brushwood. Centurion Silvius of IV Cohort who was marching after the cavalry received appalling casualties (Trupo cites twenty-eight killed in two minutes) to the 1st Maniple of the 2nd Century with Centurion Dixon seriously injured and his first Decanus Moro (a half-breed) killed. Celsus had designed and produced fifty of those machines over the other First Legion officers’ objections during the massive preparations of the previous year.
>
> He’d gone straight to Legatus Ligur for it and he’d gotten permission to try. Too slow to follow cavalry as it was the original thought, the modified carts needed two horses to move the bulky war-machines about and time to set them up or reattach them. With Commander Seneca of Vinterfort being an old acquaintance, around a hundred soldiers were incorporated to protect them in the field serving as mounted infantry.
>
> Celsus four hundred strong unit could relocate quickly in the expansive field and deliver a devastating punishment to those following him.
>
> Lucius, who had arrived at the front that afternoon during Tribune Veturius final preparations for a battle on the road heading straight for Holt’s Stables, understood part of Prefect Betto’s strategy and ordered the deployed on the east flank Merenda’s II Cohort to advance hugging the forest as far north as he could. Several officers raised their concern as the Third Legion was still without its own engineers but Lucius quickly surmised that despite Celsus’ ability to relocate fast in the field, the Centurion of engineers was stuck guarding Frugus’ west flank. The battlefield too big to navigate in time. Merenda’s Cohort formed up in squares (Sorio’s strong cavalry was still roaming near them) and marched towards the Grass Sea threatening Holt’s Stable with encirclement from three sides.
>
> Gaeta’s Regulars did the same cutting west after the scouting cavalry with Silvius IV Cohort advancing towards the settlement. Silvius would regroup during the night. He promoted Decanus Jensen to Centurion and gave him command of the 2nd Century, at the same time raising legionnaire Tusk to a Decanus.
>
> Merenda camped in the middle of the flat terrain between the Tangerine Woods near Holt’s Lake and the gigantic Lourmar Forest, but not before downing several wayward trees sprouting out in the plains and the nearby forest to build three barricades to protect his north, west and east leaving the cohort’s rear exposed.
>
> While the Centurion jested of the lewd fact for long during the night, Sorio missed the offered opening and attacked the short barricade coming from the forest. The alerted II Cohort pushed them off and Lucius ordered Mamercus Sorex’s Slingers forward. They had just come out of the clogged Tunnel Pass but were sent after Merenda without given any time to rest. Sorex trotted through the night ‘or crawled’ as a sleepless Marcus Antonius commented the next morning when the Slingers reached his advanced position.
>
> In the center after resting in the night and sending his injured to the rear, Centurion Silvius marched half a day afore contact with Frugus’ III Cohort was made again five kilometers outside Holt’s Stable. Silvius sent a runner to Falx (the latter leading the III Cohort of Lucius Legion) who was trailing after him but was still hours away about the possibility of a battle coming late night or early morning of the third day.
>
> Lepidus wanted to take the challenge and lock Frugus on the road before he’d time to retreat behind the settlement’s fortifications but Falx probably wisely disagreed with his friend and dispatched a runner to headquarters to inform Lucius and ask for instructions, while notifying Silvius to bunker down for the night.
>
> Lucius hadn’t slept more than an hour the first night and moved out of the main Legion camp early in the morning of the sixth. The Praetor was preoccupied with the cat and mouse game being played on the west flank. With enemy cavalry, mobile artillery and infantry present there the King was busy with that. The shorter flank sported a variance of terrain, with flat grassy plains, tall arboreal bushes bordering Holt’s Stable, some hills and even the idyllic isolated South Coppice with its aromatic cedar trees further west.
>
> Tribune Veturius ordered Silvius to halt and the two Cohorts to move closer together.
>
> Upon being informed at the war-meeting that night (7th of Primus) Lucius endorsed the decision and ordered Nasica after Sorex to reinforce Merenda on the east flank, while advancing the I Cohort under Brevis to anchor his center.
>
> As he’d expected Frugus retreated swiftly behind the settlements fortifications. The battle stalled as both armies repositioned. The impatient Merenda was the only one that moved, marching further north and entering the Grass Sea where Sorio had the advantage momentarily due to being able to approach through the tall vegetation undetected.
>
> The Optio of Cavalry attacked Centurion Ardi Damian’s 3rd Century causing a lot of casualties but Merenda recovered quickly and ordered his cohort out of the Grass Sea. He delivered a heavy punishment to Sorio’s following cavalry with the help of Sorex’s slingers and this ended the third day.
>
> During the night of the eighth Lucius prepared an assault on Holt’s stable down the gravel road and spent the time waiting eagerly for Prefect’s Durio’s machines to arrive. Durio was hours away still but he would make good time during the night abandoning most of his supplies to the rear. Betto’s and Frugus’ constant relocation had prevented Lucius’ men from using their numerical advantage up until that point in time but Holt’s Stables were a fixed point their enemies had to defend.
>
> You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
>
> The tired Lucius went to sleep for an hour as he almost collapsed from fatigue during the meeting, leaving Tribune Veturius to finalize the positions of the two Cohorts in the field. Veturius ordered Gaeta’s regulars to guard the west flank, ordered Durio to bring his war-machines behind him and Long to sweep the plains up to Brushwood (the woods were hugging the west side of the settlement) and locate Celsus’ mobile machines.
>
> His orders simple.
>
> Find and destroy them with extreme prejudice.
>
> Prefect Betto had similar orders from Legatus Ligur with one caveat. He was to do his outmost regardless of cost to keep Lucius and the Third Legion busy at Holt’s Stables. The veteran officer knew no help would be forthcoming until events hundreds of kilometers away were decided. In the goal oriented plan the experienced officers had agreed on (with Baron Scylla’s reluctant covenant) all moving parts and men were to do their duty methodically with no sense of sentimentality. It was an agreement based on years of trust between friends and compatriots, bound by a common oath to serve the throne of Regia without question or hesitation.
>
> Modern retellings of the story state that young King Jeremy’s arrival at Tenor earlier that week threw a wrench into their plan but events in the field would have outdone it anyway. Jeremy traveled with the royal household in tow which brought along three hundred men-at-arms under Sir Rik De Weer. A very potent and superbly trained force. While Lord Ruud ordered his son to get Queen Janneke and the children to Scaldingport upon learning of the King’s intentions, the well-known one-eyed knight yielded to his begging sister’s plea to assist her husband.
>
> A stupefied and enraged at the level of stupidity displayed Lord Ruud ordered his aged castellan Sir Stefan De Braal to take the Scaldingport Guard (around six hundred strong) and ride to Tenor. He was to arrest Sir Rik, scoop up Queen Janneke and the kids, then bring everyone back in chains if he had to. De Braal tried to calm the ancient Duke down but that infuriated Ruud even more and he ordered the guards to toss his old friend to the dungeons. Afore any of that came to pass a clerk entered the disturbed Hall with an urgent message from Castalor.
>
> Apparently the Khan had taken Deadmen’s Watch. Ruud collapsed on the throne stunned and then the scared shitless postman proceeded to read the second missive which informed the gloomy Scaldingport’s Hall onlookers that there were also ‘heavy rumors’ of a colossal Khanate force landing near Colle.
>
> With the ancient lord silent for minutes most feared the worst but when a guard (they had been called to arrest De Braal but the action had been paused) approached to check up on the seemingly frozen or dead Duke, Ruud sprung to action and backhanded him abruptly blinding the hapless guard from the right eye with his signet ring. With the guard rolling on the stone tiles screaming in agony Ruud got up and ordered Sir De Braal released.
>
> “I’ve two sons who can yield a sword decently,” the Old Crow famously had commented glaring at his court. “Since they’re both utterly braindead or as dumb as ten meters of dirt road in the best case, we’ve no one to lead the men I trust enough, so you get the job. Since I’m not an idiot and you’re an unrepentant ruffian it befalls on these old bones to fix this fucking mess. Saddle my horse Albert,” he ordered his adjutant. “And have Julienne come to give my cock a good polish. I felt some movement down there wit all the plaguin’ excitement!”
Eighteen Months Offensive
8th of Primus 194,
Code named -18 plus 14-
Campaign Day 398
Winter
Five hundred meters from Holt’s Stables fortifications
Green Plains road west approaches
III Legio engineers deployment phase
[https://i.postimg.cc/rqvdKdVh/Holt-s-Stable-after-8th-Primus.jpg]
“The catapults! Bring them closer! Check the pre-arranged markings Decanus!” Durio barked rushing to jostle forward the men trying to setup the machine. “Get that stick out of the ground Cano! Just measure it again, I can see you’re off from here darn it!”
Gripa lowered the bronze-encased field glasses and offered them to the watching Lucius. “I can’t see any machines on the wall milord. Not much of a wall really.”
“It’s packed dirt and timber. Almost three meters high,” Lucius grunted eyeing the cloudy sky to gauge whether rain or snow would plague them that day. No man could ever tell for sure. One could only guess. “We’d love to have it protecting our men Gripa.”
“Absolutely milord.”
“Umm,” Lucius murmured turning about the twin mounted telescopes to observe the enemy lines. The thick Brushwood to the west, flanked by the flats just before the South Coppice. The barricaded road and houses of Holt’s Stables, the corrals and the large warehouse buildings behind them. The Tangerine Gardens too far north to be seen, but the light mist raised over Hortolanus Lake visible to the east. The woods hugging it bordered by the Grass Sea, the reeds as tall as a grown man’s chest there extending for kilometers and beyond them the imposing Lourmar Forest.
Lucius watched the officers of the Third Legion prepare the legionnaires, each smaller command translating the orders in a manner that fitted each unit’s character and allocating responsibilities down to maniple level. Silvius and Falx discussing the timing of the assault with the unseen Merenda (the II Cohort was beyond the King’s line of sight to the far east of the front) probably organizing sub-units (of about 8-10 soldiers) to penetrate towards the Lake after Kaeso’s rangers. He turned to the west where Gaeta’s infantry was preparing two angled shieldwalls to defend against cavalry (if it came to it). Long’s riders still scouring the plains trying to locate the enemy forces to their west flanks.
Too much ground to cover, Lucius thought worried. Long had split his men into smaller ten man units to cover more ground. But even twice that number of squads in the field wouldn’t have made a difference.
Something might slip through.
“Which unit?” He asked Gripa an eye on Ramirus talking to one of Trupo’s aides. (The Prefect was to their rear at the Field Tent where the Marianus’ hospital was located. The Legion’s war camp erected kilometers away still waiting for the strugglers of the Supply Train.)
“The III Cohort of the First Legion based on the banners. A lot of pardoned cutthroats in there sire,” Gripa replied. “No word on the Cavalry but some of Vinterfort’s Regulars are in the field as well. Not them Sabretooth lads though. No consensus on whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet milord.”
Ramirus approached, a splatter of blood marring the front of his armour along with dry mud from three days without a change of clothes. The LID officer had slept less than Lucius. Many of the officers in the same boat.
“A corpse had orders signed by a Prefect Betto to a Centurion Frugus,” Ramirus added to the words of his aide.
“Anything important?”
“A reminder to every sub-unit not to give ground.”
Why? You have another strong point to defend. Why keep us here?
“What do we know of him?”
“Frugus is unknown but Nattas says Betto is from Alden. His brother runs the City Guard there,” Ramirus replied evenly.
“How does Nattas know that?”
“He promoted him some years back, but the King kept him around. It was a pretty big promotion for him. The older Betto is on the Legion’s roster since Old Oak’s time.”
This was a euphemism within the ranks for a person that had gone over the retirement age by a lot. The standard contract was normally a full twenty-five years.
“Hmm,” Lucius nodded and returned the glasses to Gripa. “Ligur probably kept as many of the men he knew or had served under him to rebuilt the First Legion,” he started and worked the numb fingers on each hand to restart circulation. “Learn if he’s studied at Anorum or anywhere else. If he’s risen through the ranks all the way up to Prefect, we might have a problem here.”
“Why is that sir?” Ramirus asked with a frown.
“You can’t measure experience on a scale but that don’t mean it’s worthless. Far from it. Loyalty though to a benefactor worth’s its weight in gold. A trusty hardened officer will not try any complicated fancy stuff. He’ll stick to orders and if he’s been given too intricate a plan,” Lucius replied gruffly pausing for a quick breath afore adding. “He’ll go with whatever worked for him in the past to make it work.”
“We’re about to find out milord,” Gripa said in his calm manner.
> Ramirus nodded, Silvius ordered Centurion Caleb White’s 4th Century forward and the men started marching behind their raised shields towards the barricades. The early morning humid, the breeze sweeping the plains chilly but the dark clouded sky keeping its anger for later. The Praetor expected (along with everyone else) Frugus’ men to test the legionnaires resolve as they approached within javelin’s throw, even reveal the position of their machines behind the barricades.
>
> The ‘hidden’ enemy soldiers responded much as the Praetor expected with a hail of javelins, arrows and even ‘some’ Scorpio bolts fired over or from behind the barricade. Some, because the majority of the iron bolts that fell inside Durio’s men still in the process to set up their war machines came from the west. (The Prefect had stalled to better pinpoint the position of the enemy artillery.)
>
> While the bulk of the projectiles ripped through the engineers and crews carrying the parts, the lethal volley was clearly aimed at the King’s visible position in the field as the knights escorting him and the tiger banners gave Lucius presence away. If one was eager to locate him that is and Betto was. It wasn’t his idea, but the Praetor would learn about it a bit later.
>
> An iron bolt struck a bulky catapult, ricocheted off the metal casing breaking in two long pieces, the thinner going through Prefect Gripa’s armour splitting his heart down the middle and killing him on the spot. The bulkier piece bounced off of the ground decapitated another aide and broke Lucius’ left arm with a glancing blow. It is said that had the Praetor not risen it instinctively to protect himself, it would have stricken the side of his head and likely killed him as well.
“GET HIM AWAY!” Someone yelled amidst the chaos. Men cursing, others moaning and horses neighing in panic. Lucius blinked trying to see what was going on as he came about, a helmed knight shielding him but also blocking his blurry view.
He had blood in his eyes, the helm dented and his head ringed. Lucius couldn’t feel his arm for a moment, then someone gripped his left shoulder and he did.
“Arggh!” The King growled in pain, hoarse shouts and dissonant yells mixing all about him with the loud roar of battle. Horses heard galloping, boots thudding on gravel and the rattle of arrows or javelins on shields.
“THE KING IS HURT!” Someone yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Someone get Marianus here! MOVE Barca, fuck’s sake!” Ramirus grunted to a LID agent and shoved the knight out of his way, the men dragging Lucius away depositing the hurt king on the ground. Lucius tried to stand up, but the pain in his arm almost doubled him over. He grasped a legionnaire’s arm and clenching his teeth went at it again.
This time he made it to his feet.
The ruckus was so strong, one could feel its vibration on his bones rattling flesh and sinews as if to dislodge them.
“Eahg,” Lucius groaned trying to reach his clearly broken arm with the other. A soldier was keeping it upright.
“Sir!” A runner boomed from somewhere to his right. So many people had gathered around him, Lucius had lost sight of the battlefield and had no idea what was happening or even where he was. “Centurion Lepidus asks about the condition of the Praetor! He wants an update urgently sirs!”
“We don’t know yet!” Ramirus snapped at him irate and Sir Maximilian’s worried face loomed over his. Lucius blinked trying to find his bearings, fresh jolts of pain running through him.
“I’ll remove the helm sire,” the knight said slowly. “There’s a dent on it.”
“The head is fine, eh… damn it,” Lucius grunted and slapped it once to set it right with his right hand. “Find me a brace for the arm Sir Valens.”
“We’ll need to take you back to camp sire,” the knight insisted.
Lucius groaned and grabbed him by the shoulder. He stared with his bloodshot eyes at the unfolding battle but other than the backs of the distant troops and bobbing banners, he couldn’t make out more.
Until he could.
“Where is the Third Cohort going?” Lucius rustled and pushed the knight away to have a better angle. “Where is Gripa? Bring me the darn field glasses!”
“The Prefect is pretty bad your grace,” Ramirus said and Lucius glanced at the spot he’d been standing earlier, now almost fifty meters away and unrecognizable. Broken machines, bloody pieces of flesh and body parts scattered about. Shattered bolts and burrowed terrain.
“How bad?” Lucius asked hoarsely.
“He’s gone your grace,” a pale Ramirus reported, lips pressed so hard at the end of it, they turned white as well. “Apologies.”
A stunned Lucius licked his lips numbly and then shuddered after another fresh jolt of pain.
“Falx,” he rustled.
“Lepidus riled the officers for a general assault on the barricades sire,” Ramirus reported quickly. “While you were out. It was a tense ten minutes. We feared the worst and didn’t want to lose the field if the word got out.”
Eh.
“Stop him,” Lucius grunted wearily and found a legionnaire to stabilize himself. The blow on the head had rattled him. “The Tribune? Durio?”
“He lives. Veturius was instructing Draco. He’s with the first Cohort. Merenda is attacking through the Grass Sea and might need support. We’ve sent for him. ”
“I’ll talk with the Tribune. Get Durio here.”
“Aye my lord.”
“Ramirus,” Lucius rustled before he could walk away to find a runner. “The machines retreated?”
“Yes sir. Long caught a couple of them, but they have infantry hidden inside Brushwood and they managed to repulse him. They are slippery devils. Gaeta is marching there now.”
“Have them dig in,” Lucius ordered, trying to think clearly. A grim-faced Marianus approached. The Dottore had galloped the whole distance probably as he was thoroughly covered in mud up to the shoulders. “We’ll use Durio. All Cohorts are to pull back to a safer distance.”
The enemy outnumbered them in artillery and they weren’t shy to use it.
“What about Merenda sire?” Ramirus asked, while Marianus tended a small flat stick for Lucius to bite on. “He’s assaulting the woods east of the settlement.”
“Kaeso is there and Nasica. Sent Logan as well,” Lucius grunted working the rough piece of wood with his teeth. “Marcus Antonius fights better unsupported Ramirus or when left to his own devices. Let us worry about Betto’s tricks here.”
“It’s not the Queen’s tit your grace,” the Dottore admonished him. “Just bite on the darn thing as hard as you can, for I have to set the arm afore using a brace on it.”
Lucius blinked at his vulgar tone but Marianus had been around his household for long now and his glare didn’t work on him.
So the King did what he was told.
Campaign Day 398
Afternoon of the 8th of Primus
III Legio Field Tent (Field Headquarters)
“Report!” Galio barked at the weary legionnaire and his aide grabbed the scrolls the man carried to give them to Trupo.
“Centurion Merenda is in the woods Tribune. He’s looking to penetrate towards the Lake’s banks or thereabouts,” the soldier reported and Galio blinked angry at the nebulousness of Marcus Antonius accounts. “Nasica drove the cavalry out of the Grass Sea but halted as they were dragging him away from the Second Cohort.”
“What about Kaeso?” Lucius asked, his face covered in sweat despite the chill. He’d a permanent clench on his jaw as the gnawing pain from the arm drained his strength. A clean break hopefully, Marianus had declared after setting the bones and securing the armbrace. You might lose some movement on the arm.
Lucius would have given the arm to have Gripa back. The loss had caused the Praetor a great deal of strain as he’d grown very fond of the loyal Prefect over the years. He felt a deep sense of remorse for failing the man.
“Merenda’s report is vague on the disposition of his force and hastily written. He’s keeping the fourth century in reserve with Sorex to control the flats and has deployed Logan inside the forest to guard the flanks.”
“Why the forest?” Galio asked reading through the reports. Casualty numbers but also anything else from the Legion Camp and the birds they had there. Lucius noticed a nervous tick appearing on the Tribune’s lined and thoroughly weathered face while the legionnaire delivered his answer.
“They are using it to hide sir.”
“Eh,” Galio grunted and Trupo scrunched his thick mustache this way and that looking at the maps.
“That’s a gods darn big forest,” the Prefect griped. “As long as the blasted river.”
Lucius let out a groan of pain in the attempt to sit on the field chair better and everyone present turned to look at him worried. He raised his right arm reassuringly.
“I’m fine,” the king rustled hoarsely. “Has Durio found the range yet?”
“He has sire,” Trupo replied and used a ruler to calculate the distance between their units, the large ruler reaching as far up as Mercator’s Inn. Another fortified problem probably.
“Gaeta has men facing the Brushwood,” Galio added. “Long is sweeping the plains looking for any hidden surprises and Draco pivoted the First Cohort that way to control that flank better.”
“Can we push into Brushwood?” Trupo asked, while Lucius’ eyes returned on the map as he’d noticed something there. “They are forcing us to pay attention on the west flank, might as well oblige them. Merenda can’t do it alone.”
Antonius probably doesn’t agree, Lucius thought returning his attention to the conversation. Galio seemed to agree with him.
“I trust him to find a way. We’ll learn how he did it after the fact per usual,” he assured the frowned Prefect.
“It might take a day for Brevis to reposition the First. But both he and Gaeta have enough men to clear Brushwood,” Trupo finally yielded.
“We need to take those horse-drawn devils out,” Ramirus said returning under the shade of the large tent that was open on one side.
“It’s a lure,” a grimacing Lucius said raspingly. “Why place it on that flank Galio?”
“Shorter distance to cover milord?”
“They don’t use the mountains and the woods are difficult to enter or exit,” Lucius argued. “Sure they provide cover but they wear and tear the machines as well. First time they fielded forty-fifty? They hit us in the morning…” he paused to collect himself. “How many?”
“About thirty came out of the woods sire,” Trupo replied solemnly. “Lost three on the return.”
“Let’s say they have kept ten inside the city,” Lucius continued. “That’s a lot a broken wheels gentlemen,” he added. “Now had they used the east flank, they had woods aplenty at their disposal on both sides this time, but also taller grass to work with in the middle. Easier to sneak nearer, easier to retreat unseen. A whole lot of cavalry has done the same and we had to move Merenda way out there to dislodge them.”
Galio clenched his wrinkled mouth. “What be your meaning milord?”
“I really don’t have one. Call it an observation Galio. It just strikes me as peculiar given they had many months to come up with a viable strategy. What do they gain here other than a bit of time? We’ll just beat the Third Cohort either way, outright remove them from the manpower pool. Then Ligur will be left with less force to defend Mercator’s Inn and Islandport. We’re missing part of the bigger picture here gentlemen.”
The bigger picture.
“There’s a report from Cartagen milord,” Galio started while Lucius stooped with a grimace to study the maps again.
Lucius immediately straightened his back worried.
“The Queens are in great health,” the Tribune reassured him.
Uher’s sake Galio, he thought.
“What of it then?”
“The Dome of Uher’s temple collapsed apparently,” Lucius made to raise his broken arm to rub his face but he gave up with a shudder. “About twenty civilians were hit by falling debris and crystal sheets. Most perished.”
Ah, he thought a sadness returning and closed his eyes. You just couldn’t let go old teacher.
“Master Di Cresta is among the victims milord,” Galio added solemnly. “He couldn’t move away in time. It was a gruesome sight per the report.”
Lucius nodded and grabbed his forehead with his right hand, worked his fingers on the taut skin to relieve a migraine. “Anything else?” He asked raspingly.
“Only outgoing messages,” Trupo reported. “We informed the Duke of the happenings per usual. Sula also of course with a bit more detail.”
“While the matter of your injury was kept from them,” Ramirus added steadily. “It is probable word might reach Asturia within a day through the supply train and its merchants. Several are from Croton and they have sent word to the Duke’s manned makeshift docks near the west bank of Framtond. We are due for another caravan anyway, the last of winter. It is approaching via the Forest Supply Route sire.”
“You’re checking the mail?” Lucius rustled tiredly.
“We are, but they have code words for everything sire,” Ramirus replied. “They might put two and two together. I suspect we have spies from Lord Bernard in the camp.”
They had spies from a lot of people or lords in the camp. Most of them were doing it unwittingly. It isn’t easy to stop people from gossiping.
“Clearly I’m not dead Ramirus,” Lucius grunted and got up frustrated, the action waking up a lot of hurt places. He kept the pain from his face. “Send word that any rumors of a setback are false or propaganda.”
“Yes sir,” Ramirus bowed his head and left them.
“Trupo,” Lucius asked tiredly. “Stop any activities for the day. Keep everyone on high alert and rotate teams to harass the defenders through the night. Make it loud, make it scary and use fire. See if we can burn anything not wet enough to keep them on their toes. On the morrow we’ll have the ammunition to use everything. Flatten it a bit.”
Trupo saluted and got up. He went to pick his maps up but Lucius stopped him.
The bigger picture. Like the map.
“What’s across Mercator’s Inn?” He asked crooking his mouth, every slight movement agonizing.
“Across the empty plains sir?”
“Aye. I see that’s a lot of space Prefect. How about right where your ruler ends?”
“That’s the village of Lourmar. Right at the edge of the woods. It’s a rural primarily hunting community of locals,” Trupo reported sucking at his upper lip, lower part of his mustache and all. “Also a logging camp.”
“Who’s controlling it?” Lucius asked.
“Attempts were made all summer, but the Duke’s men kept it in the end. It’s of minimal strategic value sire. Too far from the river. The Duke repositioned the guarding force near the docks.”
Lucius nodded.
“It’s almost a day away from Mercator’s Inn milord,” Galio noted unsure on where the Praetor was going with this. “Better to build a camp nearer or on the road, like we did here.”
“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead Tribune,” Lucius replied, although he was, on a different matter though. “Do we have a detailed map of the forest or that area?”
“Only lumberjacks or hunters would know sire. That’s virgin forest deep inside,” Trupo replied a little confused. Lucius stared at him sternly and the Prefect nodded.
“I’ll have the camp followers thoroughly searched for locals staying with us,” he added with Lucius interrupting him with a grimace of pain.
“Ask Ramirus,” he grunted. “He has a list probably.”
> Centurion Merenda was the only one that made meaningful progress on the 8th. Using Kaeso’s rangers he entered the woods and fought a fierce engagement amidst the trees all the way to Hortolanus Lake. With night falling Merenda set up sentries and spent the evening of the 9th inside the woods fighting six skirmishes in the pitch dark.
>
> Outside the tree line Nasica won a cavalry scrap but got almost killed in a late afternoon charge from the larger force Optio Sorio had under his command. (Sorio had around five hundred riders and twice as many horses available -after raiding the Duke’s stables. This was the bulk of Ligur’s cavalry -3/4 quarters of it- but a portion of that force was located on the west flank to support Celsus.) Sorex’s slingers intervened and the Fourth Century left to guard Merenda’s rear pushed Sorio back with heavy casualties on both sides.
>
> Sorio retreated for the night inside the woods where they had constructed a hidden camp but got assaulted by Logan’s Nords two hours after midnight and were forced to retreat from there as well. There’s an account of a rider killed by ‘Hulking’ Layton from a hurled saddle that traveled a hundred meters and while it may appear implausible at first glance, the illiterate Nord was of great size and girth standing close to eight feet, a fact I can personally attest having watched him bathe up close in the communal baths. The latter a common practice in the Legion camp forced upon everyone and not something this author pursued out of deviant curiosity.
>
> Lucius injury was serious but nowhere near fatal despite rumors. The Praetor in fact was up and leading the Legion a day later. The new strategy was to reduce the fortifications using Durio’s longer range weapons and avoid excessive casualties which appeared to be Ligur’s plan.
>
> While the Third Legion was busy with the problem of Holt’s Stables defenders and Prefect Betto, in Asturia the edgy Legatus Sula was quarreling daily with Duke Holt over how to tackle Ligur’s standoffish force across Framtond. Sula who didn’t trust the Duke’s scouts had sent men across the bridge. First a couple of squads and then the bulk of his rangers. With all reports pointing to Ligur keeping away from the road and minimal patrols the two men asked Lucius to sanction a foray to test the First Legion’s strength.
>
> Lucius turned it down explaining he needed to reduce Holt’s Stables first but a day after this message arrived (on the 7th) a new message from the Third Legion now busy fighting with Betto informed them that this action might be delayed for at least a while. Sula burst out livid at the Duke’s suggestion to attempt to land even more men across the Framtond at the docks some kilometers from Croton. The idea been to reinforce Lucius and flank Betto. Sula rightly didn’t want to risk a landing with the notoriously difficult to navigate river standing two meters flooded on each bank since it was at its highest point, but also feared the Duke have lost his edge in his advanced age.
>
> Lord Bernard informed them of Lucius injury either that night or early the next morning and an enraged Sula flat out accused the Duke that he was trying to have the King killed abandoning him to fight all of Ligur’s force on his own. For a tense moment the two entourages almost fought inside Asturia’s palace.
>
> It is unclear why the Legatus was so on edge but it must be noted here that to a neutral outside observer, Sula in all his brashness wasn’t in the wrong. Ligur had allocated a huge amount of war machines to that flank (more than the number Lucius could field against him), most of his cavalry and an old-type strengthened Lorian Cohort. While a Cohort wasn’t a lot, all reports mentioned a huge chunk of Ligur’s force was missing.
>
> So Sula decided to take the initiative, Lord Mercator enthusiastically supported his plan and the humiliated Duke Holt decided to back him up ordering his son to get the army ready for a winter offensive.
>
> Sula was fearing the cunning Ol’ Scrawny would try to defeat an isolated Lucius winning the war by default but the old general had his eyes firmly set on defeating him.
>
>
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