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> If my loyal Warden of the North can’t be here for my wedding, then I shall expect her fair presence in the Lorian Fields in a year’s time at the latest. If the task appears daunting let me remind your grace that I’ll consider it a favor to Regia.
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> -
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> King Lucius brief reply letter to Zofia O’ Dargan, Grand Duchess of Krakenhall.
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> Winter of 193 NC.
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> Part of the ‘Iron Duchess’ personal records.
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Marcus Antonius Merenda
Lorian Plains | Gory Garden
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Night of 12th Primus
2nd Cohort, III Legio ‘Ranger assisted’ forward units
3rd night inside the woods named Tangerine Gardens
Lake Hortolanus’ north shores
Extended Battle of Holt’s Stables
In life’s unbearable monumental dullness one must find something of interest to keep awake and a thread of humor in the horrors following it, a cold and well-muddied Merenda philosophized.
But keep the latter from the men.
A white owl stared from its high place, mean ogling eyes one finds in an insane asylum until a ranger reached the thick branch and forced the night bird to fly away angry for losing its spot. The watching Merenda blinked to protect his tired eyes from the water dripping down the helm’s rim and spotted a munching Decanus Indus offering him a moldy piece of biscuit, which Marcus Antonius summarily turned down.
His bowels needed no further assistance to visit a ‘latrine’.
Sleeping in the mud was all one needed.
Centurion Kaeso turned his obscured under a dark bandana head towards the tree, silent hand gesture querying for the number of enemy archers protecting the crews on the roof of the warehouse overlooking the lake’s north approach. Dosser raised one finger. Then two. Goff hiding on a tree ten meters from him near the edge of the woods doing the same.
“Sir?” Legionnaire Vegetius asked as the first maniple could see the rangers’ attempts to surround the warehouse in the dark. The two units mixing a bit during their shared adventures the previous days. Merenda had kept the 4th Century under Spurius Dio south of the lake to keep up the pressure on Tarcus’ flank. The rest of the Cohort had advanced trying to take over the buildings at the edge of town, but keeping control of the woods had turned out into an elusive endeavor unto itself.
The matter dragging despite Merenda’s progress towards the rear and the road towards Mercator’s Inn. Nasica had to deal with cavalry further to their exposed east flank, which unfortunately had in turn kept Logan’s desperately needed here lads to Nasica’s own flank kilometers away.
Kaeso had sent another ranger up on a third tree in the meantime.
“They have a small Scorpio tacked on the southeast corner,” Merenda explained with Kaeso glaring his way for breaking the silence. Marcus Antonius lowered his voice some, but Decanus Domus who had come with the ‘day supply run’ from the Grass Sea where the Cohort’s rear personnel had remained for days before half-entering the woods also to avoid some of the downpour, spoke afore the Centurion of the 2nd Cohort could continue after his brief pause.
“Two Scorpios at least,” Domus grunted and pointed at the bolt half-sunk in the trunk some meters to their right. “Nothing small about them.”
“Now, our dear Domus is not combat ready yet,” Merenda said raising his voice as several legionnaires waiting near the outer stone wall keeping the woods away perked up listening into their conversation. “But we shan’t belittle a comrade for it. He just arrived.”
“They have one at each corner,” Domus grunted with Dosser signaling for them to keep quiet as the sound carried over the cleared out land behind the wall. Tarcus had dug out bushes, cut the grass and plowed then flattened the ground so the two large warehouses behind the stables could be used as watch towers.
“The rangers have the matter under control,” Merenda assured the men.
“Fuck’s sake,” Kaeso cursed grinding his teeth and stabbed the blade he wore as sleeve over the stub on a tree trunk.
“They lit an ole big square searchlight,” Dosser warned from his spot. “They’ll see the collapsed parts sir.”
They had removed sections of the stone wall during the night. It was only going to be useful until the morning anyway or not, Merenda thought and Kaeso ordered his men to fire on the crews on the roof of the south warehouse at his signal.
Merenda stood up with a grimace he remembered to change into a confident smile. The moment Kaeso took out the nasties, they were to cross that field and kick Tarcus out of the warehouse.
A simple plan can be deceptively lethal.
“Spread the word my worried slightly-crippled comrade. For the latter we praise Allgods equally,” Marcus Antonius told Domus in his usual manner. The Decanus knew him well-enough not to be offended and just enough to be worried. “We have fifty meters of fine terrain beyond these hallowed plinths. We’ll make it across in no time.”
A scowling Domus grabbed Lucius’ Tigris-Hominid figurine, kissed it once and then slotted it under his armour, an action Merenda thought was quite-ridiculous but officers were turning a blind eye at the spreading in the ranks practice.
Decani Indus, Afer and Polus meting out his orders as quietly as it was possible. It had stopped raining but inside the woods you wouldn’t know it.
Time to step onto sturdier ground, Merenda decided.
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Dosser, Goff and Arius fired their arrows, several other rangers doing the same from their concealed positions. The moving about searchlight freezing in place and pointing north. Merenda stepped over the collapsed part of the wall they had expanded from two to now six meters wide and walked inside the yard surrounding the south warehouse.
He raised his sword and waved it after stepping aside nimbly and Indus with the First Maniple marched inside, followed by the Second, the rest of the 1st Century entering under Afer forty meters to his left from the other opening. Centurion Josi Vala with the 2nd Century –about half a kilometer away- would attempt to attack the north Warehouse as well with Centurion Damian’s 3rd Century coming behind them as reserve.
Kaeso’s rangers were firing arrow after arrow on the roof and Merenda started the count following after Indus, his eyes on the corners of the large building with the thick stone walls. An arrow bouncing off of a soldier’s helm three meters in front of him and zipping past the Centurion.
“Oh shit!” Cucan griped and the experienced Vegetius marching somewhere to his right agreed with a weary sigh.
“Here we go again.”
All-hells gates opening right after that.
> A stubborn Merenda survived scrap after scrap inside the Tangerine Woods and managed to break out of the trees north of the lake pushing Tarcus east flank back. Tarcus retreated near the fortified buildings at the edges of the town while keeping control of the Lake’s west shores and defending south of it. Sorio who had kept Nasica busy up to that moment and mostly restrained into a policing force, moved 2/3 of his mobile troops west across the battlefield during the night of the 12th. Optio Sorio would hide in the South Coppice to rest for half a day before taking the field again along the smaller force he’d left there.
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> Merenda who had started losing men with sickness from the cold and sleeping in the muddy woods attacked across the whole front. His intention was to reach then cut the road connecting Betto with Ligur and his supplies.
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> Or a possible retreat route.
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> Due to his persistent forward probing actions Merenda had interfered with Prefect Betto’s greater strategic plans and instructions since the start of the battle. Tarcus who was originally to withdraw to Mercator’s Inn on the 10th was ordered to prevent Merenda from ‘moving even an inch more’ to give Sorio the chance to relocate undetected (and keep the retreating road open). This forced Frugus to leave a weakened century at the center as he had to reinforce Tarcus. With the town thoroughly bombarded for three days it was obvious the men wouldn’t be able to hold for long enough and Tarcus had to be sacrificed as well.
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> Prefect Betto was running out of time and messaged Ligur who was about to engage with Sula in Islandport that reinforcement might be coming late or not in the numbers they had calculated. Ligur ordered him to at least make another attempt to hurt Lucius’ troops with Celsus’ before withdrawing and ordered Regulus who had taken control of the Asturia road to send a full old-type century back immediately and use his faster rangers to prevent the reaction that would surely come from the Duke to secure the coastal woods near the delta from any landings.
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> Whereas Regulus’ had more freedom of movement to react timely, the century he finally dispatched after Boston’s surviving machines -now moving towards Sula on drying fine paved road, although marching fast wasn’t as fast as the mounted rangers.
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> Or able of another surprise attack.
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> Boston spotted them shadowing his wagons and ordered the small force of guards that had been stuck with him, to fight the approaching legionnaires on the road. Some of the crew and civilians were added to this blocking force to give Boston time to reach Sula’s rear while everything not essential was stripped from the wagons to make them move faster.
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> Ligur had managed to keep a tight schedule with many moving parts working decently until then since the officers followed his orders without hesitation and had minimum problems from the Lords or the Council that were busy with the events at Regia’s coast. They had left him unbothered for years. With Lesia withdrawing and Duke Sula finally stopping to replenish his army this changed. King Jeremy who had arrived in Tenor earlier that week brought the throne closer to the battle. While it offered the old general desperately needed reinforcements, it also gave an outlet for the gathering Lords watching the campaign to start meddling with his plans.
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> If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
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> Upon learning of Scylla’s failed gambit at the start of the battle King Jeremy ordered Commander Betto (the Prefect’s brother) to march his guards forward to assist. Ligur tackled the presence of the inexperienced officer placing the guards (a portion of the newly formed royal guard was present as well, probably around five hundred men in total) under Seneca as a reserve.
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> The royal guards protested (they didn’t want to fight under Betto also) the matter stalled Seneca’s initial pre-agreed attack on Sula’s battered Cohorts losing an afternoon and Seneca marched with his Vinterfort troops only in the end which failed to break Carbo’s weakened centuries. Ligur had to attack to stop Sula from destroying Seneca and he did much later than he wanted. The King intervened and the guards entered the fight the next day which theoretically didn’t buy Sula anything more than half a day.
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> Ligur who was very cognizant of the thin margins they were playing with was the only officer not in a celebratory mood that evening.
A dreadful cacophonous rumble. The officers’ calls and the men responding. Rows of Scutums approaching then locking up, the sharpened gladii working in the gaps.
Clang and bang.
Sparks lighting up the dark and hot blood gushing out from open arteries.
Whoosh and twang.
The iron bolts landing inside the combatants’ lines, carving the packed squares one way.
Then the other.
“DON’T DO IT!” A serious Merenda warned the Scorpio operator looking over the war-machine pointing at him with his sword. A longer blade since he’d received training from his father in his youth, before the latter kicked him out of Cartagen. He traveled to Anorum to continue his studies and Domus had followed him. While Merenda loved studying, he hated sleeping in the student barracks (basically all the Military Academy’s buildings were equipped with legion-produced furniture) and after failing to enlist he’d walked away with a caravan seeking fortune and glory to the North. Many of the men in the 2nd Cohort had followed after the noble-born bastard not because they didn’t have many of those around (they didn’t) but because Merenda had an attractive personality and knew his way around a bill.
Men and women loved his stories.
They fell prey to his charm and qualities in throngs.
Most of the time.
TANG!
WHOOSH!
Ah, Phobos’ cold touch! Merenda cursed recoiling when the bolt whooshed over his head, plowed at the ground two meters behind the dancing on his feet officer and then stopped after burrowing for another two meters.
The enemy soldier adjusted the sights some and turned to an unseen friend who was helping him reload the machine. Merenda could see them working up on the roof of the warehouse. Arrows were traveling back and forth, as Kaeso’s men kept trying to clear out those posted there, while the soldiers were locked in front of the building in a death struggle for the last twenty minutes.
The field (of about fifty meters) they had crossed earlier, was littered with crippled dead bodies. Those still breathing medics had dragged behind the outer wall. Merenda looked about him for something to use and he spotted a discarded javelin (a pilum), only slightly used. The iron shank on it more than half a meter long a touch bent but serviceable. The Centurion sheathed his blade and stooped to pick up the javelin but got attacked by a legionnaire with an injured arm. He had probably being pulled from the line after receiving the wound but then decided to take a bite at the Centurion much to Merenda’s displeasure.
“Eh-umph!” The enemy legionnaire grunted ineligibly cleaving at the officer who had to jerk away from the pilum to save his arm.
“You crazy dog! Stand down!” Merenda ordered irate retreating a couple of steps to draw his blade.
The soldier cursed and came at him again not falling for it.
Merenda parried the attacking blade aside and clinically carved the man across the face after cutting through the bindings, tip of his sword sending the helm flying away. The mutilated soldier dropped on his knees and a snarling Merenda saw the Scorpio operator twenty meters away and ten above ground appear through the crimson mist ready to fire.
“Frothy conium,” Marcus Antonius mumbled and two arrows struck the soldier just as he was about to pull the lever. One penetrated his skull through the left ear and came out his right cheek and the other smacked him on the left shoulder. It send him sprawling over the war-machine, a shuddering arm slapping at the lever.
The machine recoiled in the attempt to release its iron bolt, but it had been pointed lower than it should from the added weight and the released string took the tangled up dead operator along for the ride. The iron bolt struck the edge of the roof top breaking some of the mortar lip there and ricocheted wildly over a lot of men before dropping two friendlies down. The weapon’s operator was hurled over the roof in a less dramatic, much-shorter flight and crashed awkwardly four meters from the edge of the building despite not touching ground.
Nothing weird about that also as he plummeted directly onto the three-row deep enemy shieldwall defending the warehouse’s massive side doors bringing half-a-dozen men down and messing up its south flank’s cohesion.
The enemy started losing badly.
“Sir!” Murena grunted approaching the standing uneasily officer. “Afer asks to add his men into the line!”
“Ah,” Merenda gasped still rattled from the absurd sequence of events. “Did you see what happened?”
Murena spat a fat blob of phlegm down. For a Cartagen lad (granted born near the Wine Bridge but still) he was quite the savage.
“Negative sir. The Decanus asks permission to add—”
Merenda sighed and grabbed the legionnaire’s shoulder. “He can’t,” Murena frowned. “He needs to guard this ‘lake flank’ since we don’t know what might come up our way skirting around its shores. Do you get it now?” Merenda meaningfully added in a deep voice half lost in the general ruckus of hundreds of soldiers duking it out some meters away.
“Yes sir.”
It was doubtful the decorated legionnaire had heard him but he responded to the Centurion’s expression on instinct.
“Right,” Merenda nodded content and then smacked his lips, glanced at the pilum unsure and then at the de-faced enemy soldier. “Whoa, I’m drawing a blank here comrade Murena.”
“Want to step out of the open sire?” Murena suggested as a couple of arrows landed near them. One almost got Merenda’s foot missing his ankle for a couple of fingers.
“FUCKING IDIOT!” Someone yelled in a booming voice from behind the wall forty meters behind them. “BLIND FUCK!”
Not all of them from enemies apparently.
“Lead the way comrade,” Merenda agreed, since he’d lost his track of thought completely and needed a moment to get his wits back.
“Not much of it sire,” Murena replied unenthusiastically and marched towards the reserves that waited in testudo formation to protect from enemy archers twenty meters to their right. Everyone was bunched up since the enemy wouldn’t give in fast enough. It was dark of course but the moons had come up, torches were lit on the roof and you could sort of tell where large groups of armoured people stood given the flat terrain.
For instance, one such group had popped out of the dark and approached them from the lake side, just as Merenda was about to follow after the legionnaire.
“Halt!” He thundered squinting his eyes maniacally, an arrow breaking on the top of his helm and shoving him back. Merenda’s teeth almost went clean through his tongue.
“Sir?” Murena asked and then seeing the enemy legionnaires marching to flank their shieldwall –now in the process of pushing those defending the warehouse back inside the building- he yelled twice as loud. “AFER! HOSTILES COMING UP!”
“Argh,” a pained Merenda grunted and unsheathed his sword, switched hands mid-stride, stooped to pick up the pilum and then hurled it at the advancing First Legion's shields.
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Merenda hacked at the Scutum and caught the iron rim at the top, blade bouncing off with a clang. He stepped back, the gladius tearing an opening at the front of his armour and snarled when a legionnaire jumped out of the advancing line to skewer him with a pilum from up close.
“Rude motherfucker!” Merenda cursed jerking his head aside, the blade wrapping the helm’s cheek-guard. Murena’s square shield stopping the returning pilum just as Afer’s fifty-strong Maniple arrived to block the enemy legionnaires advance.
The scrap turned savage.
Not that it wasn’t afore.
This just gives a more dimensional flavor to it, he thought sourly wiping the blood off of his face with his free hand, still retreating while friendly soldiers advanced past him. Murena’s shield keeping enemy arrows from hitting them.
“I want the warehouse cleared!” Merenda growled to Domus that had pushed inside the yard with his Maniple abandoning the medics behind.
“You need to recall Damian’s 3rd Century from the rear,” Domus yelled back at him. “He’s about to march northwest after Vala!”
Merenda cursed but refused to be coerced into giving ground.
“Lucius will push their center in an hour,” he grunted glancing at the late night sky. “Damian stays the course and cuts the road.”
“Allgods darn it sir,” Domus protested. “What are you trying to do here? This ain’t a camp, it’s a fucking town!”
Merenda feverishly examined the two simultaneously unfolding engagements. The west front –facing the Warehouse- pushing through the crumbling enemy defense and the enemy flanking south attack –now stalled- trying to cut right through their rear and encircle them locally.
“Tarcus don’t have the blasted numbers,” he insisted stubbornly and grabbed Domus’ shield –the Decanus wasn’t fully healed to hold it having suffered two broken arms with only one somewhat useful months later- in order to step into the last row of soldiers himself. “Something’s gotta fucking give.”
Else we’ll be buried inside this gory garden. While this may sound lyrical in its pessimism to a sensitive soul, Merenda while sort of cultured he wasn’t really sensitive nor a pessimist.
So the last part he opted to keep from Domus to keep moral up.
[https://i.postimg.cc/BQ3YfxG1/Holt-s-Stable-Merenda.jpg]
> Centurion Vala’s 2nd Century attacked the rangers defending the second warehouse and brushed them aside but swiftly got attacked by two platoons of Sabretooth Regulars just as he entered Holt’s Stables from the northeast that were tasked with keeping the road open. With the road two blocks of houses away Vala widened the front using Sorex’s Slingers but in the ranged battle the now under cover bow-carrying rangers had the advantage. Sorex skirted from alley to alley and house to house but he didn’t have advantage in close combat also as his troops were not equipped to handle the better armored rangers. The casualties staying in humane numbers due to the late time but this changed an hour later.
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> Merenda almost gotten himself killed fighting to keep his main thrust pushing inwards and Tarcus got wounded bad, losing an eye and half-an-arm, trying to prevent him from succeeding. While Merenda had one more Century –Damian’s 3rd- in reserve inside the Tangerine Woods, he had to keep it out of the fight for most of the night fearing Sorio’s cavalry swinging east and hitting their main army.
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> At the crack of dawn, Merenda took control of the warehouse but the defenders had it booby-trapped and set alight as they retreated. With putrid smokes rising and the weather deciding to give them a rare dry spell after days of heavy rain, the situation turned a little desperate with an initially defiant Merenda ordering Damian to help Vala and Sorex instead of himself, utilizing Kaeso’s battered exhausted rangers as his only reserve, until he begrudgingly halted the west advance into the city at the behest of his pleading officers.
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> Half an hour later Nasica’s scouts ventured northwest in a wide arc to locate the missing Sorio under orders from a worrying –injured- Lucius who had started attacking Frugus’ center at first light after days of heavy bombardment. Durio had pelted the ravaged town with everything he had, coming up with lethal combinations of flammable pottery, explosive shrapnel bags, excrement, nails, all sizes of rocks and almost four thousand ‘chained caltrops’. A huge supply train of workers were bringing up leftover Tunnel Pass construction material from the engineers camp –a small abandoned village-size settlement at its mouth- half a day away as quartermaster Colt put everyone willing to help at work.
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> It was less egalitarian than that but we found a new sense of camaraderie hauling heavy containers to the front until the thoughtful King asked for my assistance sensing my skills were wasted at the rear. Still, the common goal brought gifted intellectuals and the less fortunate closer in a celebration of humanity, the sense of working for a beloved figure’s just cause palpable in the ranks.
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> Nasica found the roaming enemy cavalry and won a fierce engagement in the ‘Scrap beyond the Grass Sea’ but got injured falling from his dead horse. Despite his injury he refused to abandon the field and messaged the half-winning, whilst half-cut out Merenda that his men outnumbered the enemy two to one which was a reversal of the last engagement two days prior. Believing Sorio might have retreated towards the road to give depth to Betto’s army, Nasica sent scouts out to reach as far west and north they could.
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> By the time Lucius received the later reports, Sorio’s position in the field and role had been discovered. Had Nasica’s scouts followed the road further up north –a group of them reached there an hour after noon of the 13th- they would have spotted a full Century quick-marching north with Betto’s banner leading them. While the Prefect’s plan had succeeded in the broader sense, it’d gained the minimum out of the ordeal in large part due to Merenda’s insanely bothersome presence interfering every step of the way.
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> The then Centurion had won himself another piece of glory.
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> Still with his Legion fully engaged and unable to advance, Lucius who had by now realized what the distant Ligur was trying to do, had only one fresh unit readily available to assist his thrust into a vicious trap allies and the power of a simple request to an old friend, sent after his wedding to Lady Monica from Asturia.
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> Almost a year back.
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