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Legatus Nonus Sula
‘Solid Nonus’
Lorian Plains | Watery graves
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> Near the afternoon of the 13th of Primus, Centurion Carbo pushed back Commander Seneca’s infantry (the father as there were three Seneca present in this battle, everyone commanding troops) but got bombarded relentlessly by the slowly gathering artillery machines of Slaurus and Trifer, who were promoted from Prefect (of engineers) Celsus’ original unit a year prior to handle the large number of fielded weapons. The two large sub-units (about fifty pieces each in a four/six analogy between catapults and heavy ballistae –Scorpios- had reached over a thousand engineers and crews housed outside Islandport, complete with their own separate supply train).
>
> The machines were set up at the seams (southwest) between Carbo’s and Didicus’ Cohorts facing the plains. The mass of wagons and rear personnel involved in pushing them forward had blocked the road coming from Tenor parallel to the coast-covering Mandarin Forest west of Islandport’s Flooded Bogs region. (Which bordered in turn with its large west district).
>
> They had stopped firing earlier that day due to the arrival of Commander Betto’s guards, then stalled some more to allow Seneca to reposition for an attack that was to recover the Fences (the road-controlling fortifications) but had to intervene again when the latter was pushed back, despite Centurion Glycia’s assistance.
>
> Glycia’s massive 1st Cohort (around two thousand legionnaires as it followed the old system) had stricken at Centurion Didicus pivoting 1st Cohort but despite initial progress the two large bodies of legionnaires were locked stopping any meaningful advance there. Ligur who feared Sir Gatrell’s men-at-arms roaming free to his east flank had positioned the 3rd Century there under Prefect Memon and Centurion Atticus. This didn’t allow Glycia to use his full numbers effectively against Didicus.
>
> Carbo’s famed 2nd Cohort lost two of its four centuries (under Winston Levy and Gavin Page) the 3rd and 4th, in less than twenty minutes -almost to a man. Carbo got injured severely by a hurled ‘boulder’ that splintered his shield and pulverized his left arm to the shoulder joint but managed to direct in a state of delirium the remaining centuries under heavy fire north through the muddy wheat fields. For the known for his exceptional record under atrocious circumstances Demames officer, this would earn him his highest honors yet in the war.
>
> Centurion Whitt who was following after him with the 3rd Cohort (the ‘Cultured’ from Halfostad) got brutalized in turn and was killed along with most of the 1st Century. The other three Centuries angled away from the road in turn towards the East Coast Woods but had to look for cover and couldn’t move after a while.
>
> I Legio’s officer of engineers Trifer, who was closer to their front, brought his machines about a hundred meters forward and fired after them, while Slaurus penetrated the widening gap between the Cohorts and Didicus. He used mostly his Scorpions to fire at the IV Legio’s 1st Cohort duking it out with its namesake of the I Legio causing huge casualties to Centurion’s Lars Montaus 2nd Century (guarding the flanks of the Cohort) killing Montaus and ¾ of his men.
>
> A wayward bolt decapitated the Primus Pilus who had tried to react to the new threat killing him instantly. With Didicus dead, Sula -who was trying to direct Optio Bailey’s cavalry for a frontal assault against the machines hoping to slip them through the chaos and the setting light of the coming night, witnessed the unyielding 1st Cohort of the IV Legio buckle under the pressure whilst getting attacked from two sides. Centurion Publius Surinas of the 4th Cohort took over and ordered the battered unit to retreat beyond the road.
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> The desperate clamor ‘the First retreats!’ ripped through the ranks of the IV Legio causing great harm to morale.
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> With the 1st Cohort retreating and Glycia advancing packed rows of legionnaires after them, the livid Sula (who must shoulder the biggest blame for the catastrophe despite his supporters glossing over this part of the battle today) ordered Bailey to attack the legionnaires instead.
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> ‘The moment they step their darn foot on the plaguing gravel!’ were his words according to Bolton.
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> Ligur who had ridden closer to the frontline to deal with Betto and the Royal Guards conundrum personally, spotted the dangerous opening though and ordered Glycia to hold, sending an aide to gallop before the advancing men, running a couple of them down and killing a young man from Aldenfort named Rudus.
>
> Glycia managed to stop his Centuries and Bailey’s riders turned away from the forming up anti-cavalry squares of infantry, only to get caught on the open road by Slaurus’ machines instead. A Scorpio bolt severed the wildly giving orders Optio Bailey’s plain war-horse’s hind legs and brought him down. When a stunned Bailey stood up -relatively unharmed- a fifty kilo granite piece of cut rock pulverized his helm afore shoving whatever material was left deep inside his exploding chest cavity.
>
> Sula realized he needed to break away from the relentless bombardment or face annihilation and the coming night at least offered him a brief respite. Had Ligur not been tripped up earlier that day the older Legatus might have had another hour of daylight. As he sourly commented that night in the triumphant war council, ‘I fear we missed our blasted chance. We can’t just expect that nothing shall go against us from here on out!’
>
> No one believed it and the report sent to King Jeremy early that night was heaping praise to all officers for their brilliant conduct and the Legatus personally for a well thought out plan.
The grinded into a ball piece of rock went through a legionnaire, armour, bones and squashed flesh exploding outwards in a crimson mist, bounced off of the ground once and split a wagon in two afore stopping.
“GET THAT TORCH OUT!” Someone yelled irate and the light was extinguished.
Sula was sprinting across the bombarded road towards the first of the trees and paused to glance for anyone left behind but the Legatus was one of the last to seek cover. Prefect Dumont was waiting at the edge of the muddy roots amidst Jacobred and Bolton.
“Carbo is cut off in the wheat fields,” Jacobred reported immediately upon the heavy-breathing Sula’s arrival. “If he makes it through the night, morrow shall be his last day.”
Great.
“Lots of time until the morrow,” Dumont scolded the Sovya officer.
Sula used a wet cloth to wipe some of the mud and gore from his face, the left side clenched right at the middle in a half-snarl as if he’d just had an aneurysm.
In a sense he had.
“We need to pull the 1st Cohort behind cover as well,” Jacobred insisted soberly. “Whatever we build by the north side of the road during the night won’t hold.”
“If we lose the road then the Duke won’t be able to approach,” Sula grunted. “What about our own supplies? Boston?”
Dumont grimaced and Sula noticed a cavalry officer waiting under a tree. It was dark and he’d missed him initially.
“The Duke ain’t coming Legatus,” Jacobred replied and Sula stood back shaken. “Ligur cut the road across Framtond.”
He had to clench his left fist to keep his arm from twitching. “How do you know?” Sula rustled eyeing the rider.
“A patrol found Boston coming up the road,” the northman replied. “He’s some hours back still but no supply train and they have Legionnaires after them.”
This didn’t make any sense.
“Ligur has legion at Framtond,” Sula said with a grimace of disdain.
“Scrofa didn’t make it,” the man continued. “Boston tried to stall those after him using some of Duke’s infantry but they failed.”
“Not if Boston makes it here,” Dumont intervened to give Nonus time to process the news. “And he will during the night.”
“Gatrell needs to keep control of the road until Boston arrives,” Sula said and heard a runner approaching through the trees. The soldiers had gathered near the edge of the woods, trying to find rest or treatment for those that needed it. Sula had no idea how many men he’d lost but he couldn’t dwell on it. “If Ligur has army near Framtond then he can’t have as many as we believed at Holt’s Stables given what we faced here.”
“That’s a lot of machines,” Dumont commented. “The Third is too far away.”
“Lucius will move fast,” Sula retorted and glared at the approaching soldier. “Where’s is Gratian?” The Centurion’s 4th Cohort had gone after Prefect Valens who was with Pike and his rangers kilometers away.
“We entered the port sir,” the soldier reported. “The Prefect has taken over some of the buildings. Gratian informs you we’ll attack their infantry early on the morrow.”
Ah. There’s a twist.
“Any supplies in the warehouses?”
“They tried to burn them but the port is flooded partially and it won’t help them sir. So the Prefect might get something out of there.”
Good.
“We might need to pull the 4th to soar up our defense of the woods,” Dumont said but Sula used an arm to wave the suggestion off.
“No. Gratian will stay with Valens and Pike. Tell Valens he’s to do whatever it’s necessary to punch through there. We’ll use Marlene’s Nords to attempt a breakout for Carbo during the night,” Sula decided.
“You’ll attack towards the town?” Jacobred asked.
“Easier to defend a building,” Sula grunted and dismissed the soldier.
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The legionnaires were cutting trees down, then used stripped branches to soar up the terrain as despite the weather improving the woods were still flooded partially. He could see the lights across the road where the I Legio worked to bring the machines closer to the treeline taking advantage of the dark. Further to the west Marlene struggled to make contact with Carbo’s Cohort that had been forced into the wheat fields earlier that day.
“You might have to recall the 4th Cohort,” Dumont rustled standing next to him. Sula had a leg on a rotting trunk, the front of his body stooped half out to watch the nearby lights moving.
“Ligur has no legionnaires in the city,” Sula argued gruffly. “Valens can push through.”
“He’ll get cut off.”
“Inside a port. We’re cut off already. In two days we’ll be eating bark off of the trunks and serve mud-soup,” Sula grunted. “I prefer to fight in Islandport.”
“Move the men then,” Dumont insisted. “Let’s get out of the woods Nonus.”
Sula shook his head. “We can’t give the road to Ligur and he can’t control it with a legion hidden inside East Coast Woods. So he needs to fight for it, keep his men spread out to defend the city. It’s a numbers game and a matter of time,” he turned to stare in his friend’s face. “Mark my words Pete. Lucius is coming.”
He just might not be here while we’re still breathing.
The Prefect rubbed his face tiredly, his tunic inundated in soggy grime and his boots half-sunk in rotten leaves and soft mire.
“The lake’s humidity might kill us afore morrow,” he said simply and Sula grabbed his right shoulder. His fingers pressing and eyes staring at his friend meaningfully. You got to trust me Pete. Come on friend, we’ll get out of this. Bolton approached them interrupting the moment, pale-white skin shining like porcelain in the moonlight that penetrated the dark woods.
“Preliminary casualty reports sir,” the LID officer said gloomily. His department handled the 4th Legion’s paperwork as Bolton had dabbled as a scribe for Duke Redmond and was the son of an educated merchant out of Armium.
“Is Didicus gone?” Sula asked sternly.
“Aye sire.”
“Fucking hell,” Dumont blurted out. They knew Paulus Didicus since they were kids. An honest Demames lad. It was difficult to fathom he was just gone. “Curse it all.”
“Who’s in charge?” Sula asked hoarsely.
“Centurion Surinas of the 4th Century. We might need to raise a Decanus,” Bolton reported gravely. “Most of the 1st Century suffered huge losses sir.”
Sula glanced at the grim-faced Dumont. “Papus. If he’s still breathing.”
“I’ll see to pass the missive to the Decanus. Marlene is two hundred meters away from the 2nd Cohort by the way but she spotted rangers lurking in the trees. All outer houses of the city are fortified. Carbo is pretty bad is the rumor. Might not make it.”
Sula nodded. “Listen up,” he said loud enough to be heard from those that had gathered around the Legatus’ staff. “All the glory, all the infamy are just sides to the same blasted coin. You flip it one way and its bad, but all smiles on the other. Sure, triumph and horror always lies in wait for me near water. But damn it I haven’t lost yet. We haven’t lost, not as long we can still use our blades!”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Damn right sir,” Bolton agreed his spirits lifted.
“We shan’t lay down to die! Ligur will have to come and try to kill us all himself! By the Allgods we’ll make the affair bloody difficult for his boney arse!” Sula boomed, his voice reverberating on the moss-covered tree trunks and the pregnant clammy branches.
> Sure enough Ligur came and they did.
> Thirty kilometers from Islandport Regulus smashed through the exhausted Asturia guards Boston had ordered to block the way for his 2nd Cohort but lost valuable time and the Prefect of engineers delivered forty pieces of artillery to Sula in the middle of the night (the 14th). The Legatus ordered them immediately deployed to cover the road and the engineers worked feverishly to create fortified positions at the edges of the treeline north of the road.
>
> Sula used the battered 1st and 3rd Cohorts to create a new front facing the approaching machines of the 1st Legion. Ligur who was informed of Boston’s arrival ordered Sir Silvan Scylla to destroy them before they reached the trees but Sir Gatrell pushed them back yet again and kept control of the plains south of the road. Regulus who was marching up the road coming from the east reported to Ligur near dawn about the happenings at Framtond and they both agreed that the men left behind were doomed unless they won the battle.
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> Ligur’s first action of the night was to order Memon to redeploy the 3rd Century east to cover Regulus’ approach and assist Sir Sylvan. The second was for Slaurus and Trifer to halt their approach of the Scorpios and only use the longer ranged weapons to avoid counter-battery fire from the woods. Glycia moved the 1st Cohort near the road but was ordered to not advance until Betto’s Regulars coordinated with Seneca’s who was waiting for Scylla to clear out the wheat fields for a northwest attack.
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> Scylla had to keep an eye on Valens’ advances inside the port on his northernmost lake-bordering flank, as Pike’s rangers had infiltrated several city blocks deep during the night. Now on dry terrain, house and street fighting broke out. When Gratian’s legionnaires reached the port the Baron’s split infantry got pushed back deeper into the city and Valens gained control of the port before noon on the 14th. Scylla had to pull soldiers from the outer defenses of the city (facing the woods and Carbo’s men) which helped him cordon Gratian in brutal fighting but gave the seriously injured Carbo the chance to order his men to assault the weakened perimeter and break out of the wheat fields towards the first houses of the city.
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> King Jeremy was informed of the happenings, the King’s large entourage had traveled up the road towards Islandport and had camped across Lake’s Watch plateau in the plains near an Inn named the ‘Dazzling Opossum’ a tiny fishing settlement.
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> Theodor Brakis the 2nd, the Duke of Illirium’s first cousin and liaison in court, urged the King to attack all out against the cornered Sula before Lucius had the time to intervene. Sir Turner who was Lord Ursus liaison (the Duke was imprisoned by Lucius in Cartagen) agreed and so did the King’s Master of Silence Marc Laudus. Sir Doris Alden’s aide disagreed trusting Ligur to know what he was doing but King Jeremy ordered Betto to advance on Sula.
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> Commander Betto marched over the fences and was bombarded by Boston’s machines losing men for no reason. Ligur ordered Seneca to bail him out and the Vinterfort soldiers took to the field again, while Slaurus and Trifer opened fire trying to extricate the entrenched Sula out of the trees. East Coast Woods was to be flattened to as much as three hundred meters deep by the time everything was over.
[https://i.postimg.cc/V1Sw-rJrb/Lorian-Plains-15th.jpg]
Battle of the Lorian Plains on the 15th-16th
(approximate positions of troops)
large map, right click to open fully
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Ides of Primus
Winter of 194 NC
Sula’s 2nd night in the woods
Battle of Islandport
The round boulder snapped the tree trunk, wood splinters exploding outwards and men ducking behind shields with yells of panic. Everywhere trees were coming down, fifty kilo rocks pulverizing anything standing out, the ground shaking, broken branches whistling by or through men and animals. In the chaos Boston managed to keep his catapults firing but they were lacking in ammunition and in numbers. Sula guessed five to one at least in heavy artillery.
Men were cut in half, lost limbs or collapsed on shattered leg bones and torn ligaments. Every volley sounded like an avalanche descending on their ranks or as if massive pieces of hail were falling from the sky. Ligur’s machines were approaching risking it since the difference in volume of fire favored them heavily. Sula could see them repositioning on the road after they paused late in the afternoon of the second day. Scores of Scorpios pushed forward to support an infantry advance. Ligur had cleaned the plains of every rock he could find but hopefully he would run out of ammunition at some point.
“Yank everyone that can walk back. It’s about to rain iron bolts. Boston is spent,” he ordered Jacobred curtly. The Prefect had half his cheek sliced off by a sharp piece of wood or rock and had the whole mess bandaged so tight he couldn’t really speak. He used Optio Mercator to relay orders until the latter had been gravely injured. “Seneca is going to try again.”
“Carbo isn’t in the fields!” A runner reported ducking at the sound of a catapult shot landing three meters away on instinct. He stumbled and almost went down hands scrapping at the ground, helm flying and clattering away from his head.
“Fix that helm soldier!” Dumont barked sounding disturbed at the sight but it was mostly shattered nerves and his swollen knee that bothered him for days now.
“Has Valens taken the port?” Sula grunted a splinter smacking his helmed forehead. It rang his head proper, denting the plate.
Could have been a small rock.
“He had then lost it. It’s back and forth sir!”
“Arggh,” Jacobred managed to say and put his back on a still standing trunk.
Sula glanced at the approaching zig-zagging Bolton. The LID officer had a bloody piece of cloth tied on his thigh but it spurted gore as he walked.
“Borealis is overwhelmed. I have the killed officers’ list sir,” Bolton told him.
“Eh,” Sula groaned, he hoped for better news.
“Didicus, Optio Bailey, Optio Mercator, Whitt, Levy, Page and their units—”
“Allgods damnit Bolton!” Dumont barked cutting him off. “They are about to advance! And stitch that darn leg, for pity’s sake man yer about to faint!”
Sula puffed out and glanced at the dressing up enemy lines of infantry.
“Why do they hurry my friend? It’s almost night. I think the tide is a-turning!”
Dumont wasn’t of the same opinion. “They have a timetable Nonus sure but I don’t feel we’re winning here. Apologies Legatus.”
Come on Pete. Help me out here.
“Retreat towards the shores?” He asked clenching his teeth in a grotesque snarl.
“Wanna fight in water?”
Sula smacked his lips and eyed his half-sunk in mire boots. “At least they’ll be knee-deep in shit also,” he decided.
Ligur would never allow his machines inside the woods, not that they are useful there.
Dumont unsheathed his sword and set his jaw.
“I’ll lead the First Cohort,” he told him and Sula nodded. “See you stay alive for a couple of hours sir.”
“I’m fixing to counter attack with Marlene and Chad’s Century,” Sula said stubbornly. “They’ll attack Boston’s crews so I know where they are heading.”
“That’s two Cohorts out there,” his friend reminded him. “Regulus will attack from the east and Glycia from the south.”
“Motherfuckers won’t see me coming,” Sula retorted and tried to smile but half his face was drooping and couldn’t get it right. “I’m gonna lock as many of them up as I can.”
“Nonus for crying out loud, think of Martha and the kids!” Dumont snapped angry.
“I am,” Sula assured him hoarsely although he couldn’t allow himself to do it not to lose courage. “But we can’t let Ol’ Scrawny to turn around and hit Lucius before he has time to figure out what’s going on. For Ligur to win he must win that first engagement. If he doesn’t then the bloody tiger will maul him without mercy,” he spat down, his mouth tasting of foul water and his stomach turning at the taste. He was running a fever but it kept him warm so Sula didn’t bother too much with it. “We mustn’t allow him to disengage cleanly. You take Seneca, I’ll handle Memon and Regulus.”
And pray Valens survives inside the city and keeps Scylla busy.
>
> Seneca was ordered to advance after two nights and a day of merciless bombardment and bloody skirmishes. He used about a thousand soldiers to do it (four platoons of Sabretooth’s soldiers and a two from Tenor added to his Vinterfort troops) and several teams of sneaking closer rangers since the attack started early on the morning of the 15th. Memon was to support him with the 2nd and 3rd Centuries, the 1st kept in reserve from the center. Seneca could count on Betto’s Regulars and the Royal Guard as a reserve for his attack from the west starting at the fences. Regulus two road-weary Centuries were to advance from the east against Boston’s now useless machines.
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> Ligur asked Sir Rik De Weer to bring his mounted troops towards the center to help Sir Sylvan against Sir Gatrell and Fallon’s slingers that were still holding out in a copse south of the road.
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> Lord Scylla, who had reinforced his Sabretooth soldiers inside the city, tried again during the 14th to dislodge Valens and Gratian but despite repeated attempts, the 4th Cohort remained strong and difficult to deal with. The biggest problem Sula’s legion faced was the lack of supplies (food, ammunition, water and medicine) and the disease (dysentery, bog fever) that plagued the injured men.
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> Ligur had his eyes on the road south of Mercator’s Inn since the first elements of Prefect Betto’s Cohort had started arriving that night. Lucius, according to the worn-out officer, was half a day behind them and had suffered less damage than they had hoped. The old Legatus needed to start redeploying forces towards the new threat but he needed to make sure Sula was out of the fight or dead.
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> ‘If we can’t finish them off today,’ he told his aides in a war meeting. ‘Then gentlemen will have to fight them both in the field even this very afternoon. We won’t have the numbers but we shan’t be lacking in spirit and artillery.’
>
> As a matter of fact he got the first part right and gotten everything else wrong, through no fault of his own.
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-Interlude-
Prefect Rufius Valens
Islandport,
Morning of the 15th
Battle of the docks
Streets leading to the harbor, five hundred meters from the city's center
The ranger’s arrow missed, the soldier snapping his head towards the danger only to get another arrow lodged between his eyes, cracking his skull. The conned helm came loose and banged the wall behind him, his body collapsing the other way.
“Get them!” Valens bellowed and rushed after the legionnaires moving fast across the road, a javelin hitting the pavement afore him splitting a tile in two and almost tripping the officer up. He stumbled, heard a clang and a pained curse, the next javelin taking out a legionnaire and then a flurry of projectiles landed against the enemy soldiers holding the alleys overlooking the south side of the docks.
Men cried out in shock, others yelled in pain, a couple of soaked-in-oil torches were hurled their way–one landing successfully setting a soldier’s face on fire- and blades connected in the semi-darkness. The narrows leaving room for minimum tactics. Still the legionnaires of the 2nd Century under Mellitus locked shields and fought behind them which sort of worked.
If you carried a Scutum that is. Valens didn’t have one and used his sword to block a spear thrust. The spear clanged on the wall, splinters exploding and pieces of shattered bricks rattling his armour. He slashed half-a-jaw off of his opponent, blood and teeth clattering on the cobblestone. A man grunted taking a spear in the gut and the foul smell of spilt entrails clogged Valens’ air pipes.
“They try to push through to the port sir!” A soldier yelled a warning and the young Prefect twisted about towards the exit of the alley. Rangers were moving energetically there, arrows whistling back and forth from both sides. Behind the rangers a solid block of spear infantry marched down the large central street towards the port. Scylla was bringing reinforcements, it appears nobody is sleeping tonight, Valens thought sourly.
“With me! Your whole file Decanus!” Valens barked and run towards the skirmish that had started twenty meters away.
By the time Rufius Valens had reached them the main street leading to Islandport’s square and its grey-stone round tower had around three hundred soldiers clashing. Gratian’s 1st Century arriving soon after.
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“Prefect!” The Centurion bellowed curtly as he approached in step with the rest of the legionnaires. “Stand aside or preferably clear that fancy yard of nasties sir!”
Valens grimaced and guised at Decanus Corvinus. The gaunt Anorum veteran smiled through a week’s growth of wild facial hair and pointed an arm at the broken gates to their left.
“It’s a villa. We can flank them afore they do,” Kid, the last part the Decanus didn’t say, since the men had come to respect the young Cartaport nobleman as much as his murdered older brother.
Valens nodded. “Lead the way Corvinus,” he said hoarsely and went after them while Gratian boomed a series of gruff orders behind his back.
“PILUMS!”
“LOOSE!”
“SHIELDS UP!”
“DEFEND CHARGE!”
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The Sabretooth sergeant (of engineers) directing the crew to haul the hefty war-machine near the main street spotted Valens’ file of troops rushing towards them through the yard of the large ruined villa and abruptly ordered the soldiers accompanying them to intercept.
“Stop the machine sir. Don’t let it reach the street,” Corvinus told him and banged his gladius on the Scutum once to snap the men following them to action.
Valens nodded instinctively, ducked under a spear thrust and slashed at an enemy soldier’s exposed thigh. Another blocked his blade with a heater shield and shoved him back. The Prefect slipped on a flower bed, dried up bright yellow dandelions crashing under his boots and cried out when he got kicked savagely in the ribs.
He tumbled on muddy expensive tiles, men shouting obscenities and blades clanging rhythmically on shields. Head ringing something fierce, all sounds coming muffled and distorted. The crew working hard to slot an iron bolt into the machine.
Son of a bitch!
Valens rushed the final meters, parried a sword aside and cleaved at a shield, the blade biting at the metal rim. His arm turned numb and he had to step away from a spear thrust, only to step into a shortsword wielded by the sergeant. The thin blade lodging on his chest and right lung flooding with blood.
“Ueh!” The angry sergeant spat in his face and a half-blind Valens run him through with his sword on instinct. The enemy officer went down mortally wounded, the Scorpio fired its bolt and it whipped past the injured Valens’ dipped shoulder afore it ripped through Corvinus’ line of shields killing three legionnaires and scattering the men.
“RELOAD!” Another engineer barked hoarsely, men rushing to slot a new iron bolt in the semi-darkness and everyone inside the yard locked in a bitter fight.
Or incapacitated.
They are going to break through.
Valens willed himself to move but his knees buckled, blood coming out of his mouth and chest where that shortsword was still lodged on. The young officer dropped to his knees, the sound of savage struggle intensifying just as the first rays of sun appeared on the clearing sky.
I can’t do it Declan, he thought miserably thinking of his slain brother and their poor mother. Both her sons buried in watery graves by the same cursed lake.
Through his blurring eyes the despaired Rufius thought he saw the almost a thousand kilos war-machine flying through the air as if kicked by a giant.