>
> ‘Post Antinor and his wife Seia. Young Tertius. Roderick and our Consul’s friends, the old heads Faust Vistict and Hostus. My father’s people. Most of those names won’t go up on that plaque and you probably don’t know. But I do. The king remembers. In the real pantheon of heroes -high up there, they now stand and mirthfully recite obscure tales of bravery against all odds. Friends and foes all grouped together, the good knights from both sides. Gallantry perceives no colors and belongs to all.’
>
>
>
> King Lucius speaking on the raising of the first plaque (or monolith) inside Elysium Fort’s temple called ‘Hall of Fallen Heroes.’ 6th of Nonus, 194 NC.
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Lucius Alden,
‘Bloody Tiger’
Lord Lucius Aldenus the third,
Praetor Maximus,
Legatus ‘Omnis Legionis’
King Lucius III
Larum in caelo
Part II
-Heroes Pantheon-
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Titus Nero performed a fancy curtsy finishing his report whilst theatrically flaying his arms about, which got a mirthful murmur out of the bystanders inside Elysium’s hall. Lucius maintained his composure and nodded slightly at the local official.
“We appreciate your efforts Mayor.”
“My Liege,” Nero continued. “If I can and given the opportunity invite your grace and the Queen to a banquet at my humble estate tonight?”
“I hope there are no sugary cakes or fancy dancing involved. The Queen has an exotic palate Nero and is away from her wardrobe.” Lucius jested with a half-smile. Faye would have been fine with a good roast of meat and a loud song as a matter of fact. Not to mention she didn’t exactly have much of a wardrobe. Faye did have an armory though. “If you’re committed on offering strong liquor then the King shall object. It’s the week of cleansing and I respect the order’s rites.”
The Order of Tyeus fasted after Bacchanalia but it was just a polite rejection since kings were allowed quite a bit of leeway on their personal affairs.
“It’s a simple event my Lord and we could accommodate the Queen with a dress for the occasion,” the Mayor insisted.
This got a good chuckle out of the officers present.
“We’ll consider it,” Lucius replied diplomatically and Mayor Nero was ushered away. Trupo approached the simple throne and saluted clearing his throat. “Don’t we have Council right after?” Lucius asked him.
“It’s a petition from Lord Drusus Sula sire. He wants it read in public for the record.”
Paulus is a deeply distrustful man, Lucius thought with a grimace.
“I thought he’d stayed in Demames,” Lucius replied. Duke Paulus wanted to personally oversee the repairs to his city, mainly its docks and most of the Sula family had opted to get back to their villas.
“He arrived yesterday.”
“Do they agree with my proposal?”
“They do not sire,” Trupo replied. “Lord Drusus wishes to broach the matter of Novesium.”
“I shall receive him on the morrow,” Lucius decided not wanting to speak publicly.
“We have a Khanate diplomat asking for an audience. He arrived from Cartagen. A Lord Dima Shamar.”
Lucius gazed at the lined blank face of his Consul. Galio kept staring at the Tribune in his turn without blinking. “It is better to deal with foreign matters with more formality Tribune. Let’s say when we’re back in Cartagen?” The king said mindful of the scribes boxed in at a corner behind the small local crowd that had come to watch the king’s court.
“Sirio talked with him sire.”
“The man claimed that where the king is, the court stands your majesty,” a grimacing Sirio croaked stepping forward. “I couldn’t offer proper argument.”
Lucius pursed his mouth but smiled thinly. “It doesn’t have to be proper mister Veturius,” he said and added looking at the bystanders. “At all occasions.”
“Apologies, your Majesty.”
Sirio looked just about ready to collapse on the stone tiles.
“I’ll receive him privately,” Lucius told Trupo. “But not today.”
“Yes sire. There’s the matter of Lord Nattas’ request.”
“I’ll consider replying at a later time,” Lucius countered. Storm had put himself forth as a candidate to assume Duke Ursus’ titles given he auspiciously had land and title within the latter’s domain.
“Robart Holt has finished the assessment sire,” Trupo said reading the last of his scrolls.
“It’s a boring fiscal matter,” Lucius retorted. “Those usually take ages to resolve and this court is late. We commend Commander Agricola for giving us use of the hall. Please,” he added with a gesture towards the local officer who beamed upon receiving the enthusiastic onlookers round of applause. “We acknowledge Elysium for its efforts and the warmth it has received us.” Lucius continued. “The Throne shall not forget. You may now leave our presence knowing we consider its citizens and this township fondly. You are a small community but you cast a large shadow.”
He finished and the small local crowd that had managed to gain entry applauded the King with loud cheers, whilst sporting big smiles on their faces.
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“The Queen?” Lucius asked half an hour later while one of Galio’s aides and Sirio brought a series of maps inside the small hall and several legionnaires from Gata’s Century carried a large table to accommodate them. Only officers of the Third had remained behind but for those that were on duty at the camp.
“Her Grace is with Augusta Flavia my lord,” Sir Valgus replied formally. “The Lord Commander has dispatched a detail of knights from the Capital to safeguard her.”
“We can guard the Queen, Sir Valgus.” Galio retorted gruffly.
“And she can probably defend herself,” Lucius added with a smile. “Still, Sir Seleucid isn’t in the wrong here. The town will appreciate the sight of his knights Galio.”
“I’m a little stressed milord to partake in the amount of smiling,” Galio replied stiffly.
“When in public or in court,” Lucius reminded him. “It is expected of us.”
“Aye milord King,” Galio said.
“Does the Consul want to give the floor to the Tribune?” Lucius asked calmly.
“Scylla reports the Legion’s camp is mostly empty milord,” Galio informed him with a glare at the grinning Trupo. Lucius sobered up and walked to the maps table.
“Merenda visited Sabretooth?” The king asked staring at the map. They had the terrain miniature model packed with the supply train.
“Several times during the summer,” Trupo intervened and the Director of LID walked inside the hall, saluted smartly, then nodded briefly to Sirio before taking a seat at the table. “One would say the Legatus got the full measure of the place sire.”
“The castle is near the legion’s camp and the First is starved for supplies,” Lucius countered with a frown.
“Prefect Memon replied that the Legatus is absent on patrol milord,” Galio elucidated.
Hmm.
“Where?” Lucius queried.
“Timberville.”
“Isn’t Damascus there already?”
“He is.”
Lucius stared at the town then at the coastal road continuing northwest towards the Knob. It split there, a leg heading west to Forestfort hugging the river and the other cutting to the northeast towards Riverdor.
“Has Antonius found mounts Trupo?” The king asked.
“He got his hands on mules and camels sire. About eighty of them according to Optio Holt’s report that arrived the other day.”
“How did he pay for them?” Lucius asked a little surprised.
“The First doesn’t work like we do sire.” Trupo explained. “Or asks. They just take. Their modus operandi is a couple of centuries behind the norm.”
And it appeared the Tribune wasn’t exactly opposed to the practice.
Lucius grimaced and then grabbed a piece of coal from the table. Worked it with his fingers thoughtfully. “It doesn’t solve his cavalry problem.”
“I'll write to Memon milord,” Galio assured him. “We’ll locate the Legatus.”
“Ask him to give you a headcount of the Legion,” Lucius ordered. “Learn how big these ‘patrols’ are Galio.”
“Right away milord,” the Consul granted.
Lucius pursed his mouth. “Not today though,” he added. “Give him another day.”
“As the King wishes,” the veteran officer agreed.
“Any news from Sula?” Lucius asked Trupo.
“Nothing sire. It is worrisome given that Lord Anker’s attack failed.”
“Is this confirmed?” Lucius probed still working at the piece of coal with his fingers. The small stick glassy to the touch.
“They had to retreat,” Trupo replied.
“A retreat could be part of their objective Tribune.”
“I don’t see how they achieved anything my lord, but we’ll wait for more details.”
“Could the Khanate know about the fleet?”
“They are closer than us sire,” Trupo said.
“I’d like another briefing on the matter before the day is over gentlemen,” Lucius decided and dropped the coal on the map. He had penciled a short vertical black line on the map. It extended in a ninety degree angle starting at the junction and aimed towards the Knob. The marshes beyond it. “We’re on pins and needles here mister Veturius so make it a priority,” he added evenly.
“Aye sir,” Galio nodded.
“Who do you have waiting outside Ramirus?” The king asked with a sign for the officers to get going.
“Mister Holt my Lord,” Ramirus replied evenly and Lucius nodded.
“I’ll see him now,” he told the legion’s intelligence department Director.
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Robart Holt was a serious man in his late forties. He stood almost as tall as the King, dressed in a dark redingote with large silver buttons at the front and dark linen pants. Robart bowed his head sharply and carefully laid a stack of scrolls he carried with him on the table.
“May I take a seat my Lord?” He asked formally.
“By all means, please do Mister Holt,” Lucius replied. “Apologies for dragging you with us throughout the summer.”
“I found the journey invigorating my Lord,” Robart replied steadily. “After years of working inside a building, the country is nigh pleasant an experience.”
“You served with the Bank of Trust for over twenty years?”
“Ten of them as a Director at the main office in Cediorum,” Robart replied in his precise manner.
“What made you leave the bank Mister Holt?” Lucius asked and took a seat across from him.
“I disagreed with the use of resources my Lord,” Robart said without hesitation. “And for patriotic reasons. I wanted to assist Asturia if I could.”
“The Duke didn’t find any use for your talents?”
“Not everyone likes people poking into their finances my Lord.”
“Even if they are a distant kin?”
“Some would say even more then my Liege,” Robart Holt deadpanned.
Lucius nodded, the hint of a smile forming on his mouth. “What was the misuse of resources?”
The former bank director hesitated this time. “The matter of Eikenport sire.”
Lucius stood back with a frown. “What was their interest there?”
“Officially to protect our… the bank’s investment. Kaltha’s war loan.”
“Is this the norm?”
“Yes my Lord.”
“What was their plan in order to do that?”
“Apprehend princess Elsanne and prevent her from challenging for the throne,” Robart replied without hesitation.
“Mclean trusts young Antoon more than the princess to pay?”
“As I stated my Lord, the real objective was to take control of the port,” Robart replied.
“Under whose authority?”
“The High Regent’s,” Holt elucidated.
“But since Lord Anker couldn’t possibly reach that far given the situation, Mclean would had been given the opportunity to run it as his own holding,” Lucius added. “Was Lesia aware of the matter?”
“It an internal matter for the Bank. Mercenaries were used my Lord. The Three Hundred.”
That was Lear Hik’s old outfit. “Who was leading the company?”
“D’Orsi’s cousin. He was killed and the unit destroyed completely. It was a risky proposal, poorly executed that caused a lot of casualties to the locals.”
This turned the ‘pirate-sympathizing’ locals against Antoon’s heir.
“How could Elsanne’s pirates beat an experienced mercenary company Mister Holt?” Lucius queried with interest. He had never heard of this distant event.
“They had help from the local underground my Lord. A criminal named Mister Garth, along the assistance of another mercenary company working for the King beyond the Pale Mountains. Finally Sir Gust’s Crows also participated in the scrap.”
“Lord Ruud fought with the bank over a port in Eplas?” Lucius asked a little confused at the strange alliances birthed so far away and the ties that had brought all these individuals close.
“Elsanne fought the bank and the Crows assisted her.”
It was obvious the Old Crow had made up his mind on the matter. Why would you go against late Antoon’s wishes? Ruud had been a staunch supporter of the throne for years. A friend of the previous king. Was it the Princess presence? Was it Gust? Would Gust ever fight against Elsanne? Lucius didn’t believe the hale knight would.
It was also pretty obvious what the Old Crow was trying to accomplish behind the scenes.
“Scaldingport controls two ports on Eplas,” Lucius said looking at the map that didn’t have the large western continent’s shores depicted as it ended at the Shallow Sea. “With the pirates under Elsanne’s control apparently, they have a safe sea trade route open.”
“To Wetull and the Khanate’s riches sire,” Robart explained. “It will make the Duke a fortune.”
Lord Ruud’s domain was rich enough already. “Is this king able to navigate the Blasted Lands Mister Holt? This appears to be a huge undertaking and without it, the Great Desert makes it very costly to make a profit. There’s a reason the Khanate merchants have trouble penetrating our markets. Their products are too expensive.”
“The Zilan can perform wonders,” Robart said simply.
Lucius wasn’t satisfied enough to yield the argument. Magic while fascinating for young minds wasn’t something he’d ever encountered outside of dubious on their veracity old tales.
“How many Zilan survived? Six years ago I had been briefed that they had gone extinct in all probability. Wetull is a harsh place to live in utter isolation.”
“The Bank estimated around twenty thousand. Fifty years ago,” Robart replied. “But this Hardir has restored Goras.”
The wyvern taming, magic wielding and mysterious Zilan ruler.
“How can he rebuild Goras? Goras is the size of Castalor and Scaldingport combined!” Lucius grunted. “Not to mention it’s probably blasted away!”
Do we believe only half of what’s in the books and only when it agrees with us? He wondered.
“A bit larger than that my Lord. The maps are a little misleading,” Robart explained. “As to your query, after the ‘Three Sisters Rebellion’ Goras has gotten thousands of refugees from the Peninsula. This new Wetull also uses slave labor just like the old one or doesn’t oppose it strongly. It is historically a very parsimonious method to get things done at minimum cost.”
Lucius all but bristled learning about it. “Cofols?”
“Yes sir.”
“Why? Serving a Zilan ruler sounds horrifying.”
“Hardir was married to the Sopat family,” Holt explained and Lucius stood back impressed remembering his history lessons.
“The gilded Toka and the gem-adorned Sopat,” he murmured. This high-society Jelin saying eloquently described the richest families inside the Khanate. The coin lords of Dinar and the gem merchants of the fabled Lai Zel-ka. The aureate equestrians of the Mirpur and the Slavemasters of Fu De-Gar standing in turn as the strongest militarily.
Robart nodded in agreement and stared at his scrolls.
“You have an assessment of the situation?” The king asked evenly changing the subject.
“I do my Lord.”
“How would you describe it Mister Robart?”
“Grave my Liege,” Robart Holt replied without mincing his words.
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Holt finished his detailed presentation on the kingdom’s financial situation and pursed his mouth at the sober reception he’d gotten from his small audience. The stressed Sirio interrupting the awkward moment as he’d managed to break the tip of his quill in the attempt to write it all down and then overturned an ink pot trying to save the page.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“I’ll clean it up,” the flushed writer said quickly still hunched over the table and sweeping at the mess with his ink-covered sleeve.
“Guard!” Trupo boomed at the sentinel. “Bring a towel!”
“A towel sir?” The guard asked.
“Any rag will suffice. Make it two,” Trupo deadpanned scrunching his mustache right and left. “And a fresh tunic for our scribe. We might need a barrel to dip him in first.”
“Yes sir!” The guard responded and Lucius puffed out turning his attention on the silent Robart Holt.
“What is your suggestion Mister Holt?”
“Disband the armies,” Holt replied and Galio snapped a stiff face his way. “You owe a crippling sum to the soldiers my Lord.” The economist continued despite the palpable hostility coming from the officers and most of the nearby guards that weren’t supposed to listen in to their conversation.
“Trupo,” Lucius ordered and the alert Tribune got up abruptly pushing his chair back.
“Everyone clear the room,” he barked and walked aggressively towards the guards and a couple of servants loitering near the two exits of Elysium Hall. “Don’t make me repeat it,” the Tribune added soberly. “I’ve an itchy palm since morning and the Consul has a metal baton.”
“My Lord,” Robart Holt insisted after the room was cleared from any onlookers. Trupo had taken note of those that had been privy so he could ‘straighten them out’ later about the need to keep their silence. “Every year soldiers are in the field or even at camp, wages are accumulated and pensions are added to the burden.”
“Lesia has its legion,” Galio grunted.
“Lesia has one legion and the bank is paying for supplying it. It is not the same,” Holt countered. “You have well over ten thousand soldiers in your books Consul.”
“The matter of the veterans has been resolved or will be soon enough,” Lucius intervened.
“In what manner my Lord?”
“Kas and Anorum will supply one legion. Macrinus will make sure of it and he’ll keep a force in the north as a standing army. That would be from the First. It’s supposed to be bigger but it won’t be.”
“You’ll keep the First in the North?”
“I just explained that I won’t,” Lucius replied patiently. “A part is not the whole.”
“What about the others? No lord would agree to shoulder the burden. Illirium, Demames and Asturia have their own local forces to pay for my Lord. You serve in the militia, you get to keep more of your crops for a year. The system is older than time. If you are to increase taxes then a reason must be given for keeping such a large military force in the books that will do nothing. Are we at war?”
“We are not,” Lucius replied. “The larger Duchies would be excluded. But not all. The veterans will receive their owed sums in the form of land and some coin. Storm’s Rest is a fine place and it won’t burden Anorum or Asturia further.”
“Storm’s Rest isn’t even a village yet my Lord. Who is running it?”
The Consul.
“Storm’s Rest will be a city within the next ten years,” Lucius argued. “The men will take the land and make something of it Mister Holt.”
“What about the outstanding wages? Every month is adding more to the books.”
“Aegium will pay for the Fourth,” Lucius continued. “And the Third will remain here to keep an eye on Lesia.”
“This doesn’t solve…”
“If the other lords can pay for their army Aegium and Novesium can pay for theirs and the army will help rebuilt what was ruined in the Civil War and balance past debts.”
“Is it wise to give minor lords control of legions my Lord?” Holt asked thoughtfully.
Lucius didn’t fully trust any lords at this point but the army that had been sworn to him.
“You misunderstood me,” Lucius retorted. “The control of the Legions has already been addressed Mister Holt and it won’t be relinquished nor be a subject to any lord’s whim even in the King’s absence. A minor or a big lord makes no difference.”
“The Legions serve the man paying their wages,” Holt insisted.
“The Legions shall serve the legitimate King of Regia and the kingdom in his absence,” Lucius countered austerely. “The army shall safeguard the throne for without the throne there will be no army nor any privileges. They heard your proposal and they can understand that.”
“What privileges?” Holt asked tensely.
“Assurances,” Lucius replied.
“My Lord the treasury is empty,” Robart Holt gasped. “King Jeremy drained it to support two distant fronts and I have to inform you that Duke Sula with… Duke Holt haven’t paid their taxes for years.”
“I can’t really fault them given they have an excuse for it,” Lucius replied sympathetically. “But I can use this as an added incentive in our talks henceforth. Obviously it would be bad manners to bring it up on its own.”
“You grace can’t fund any public works—”
“The Third will finish the Temple of the Fallen,” Lucius cut him off. “The army will build the roads I have in mind to uncouple the trade routes from the coast and connect the kingdom. It’s what they do and your cousin has used them in the past not to burden Asturia’s coffers. There is a use for them even in peace Mister Holt. However long this peace lasts in the current climate.”
“Apologies for pressuring your grace,” Robart Holt said raspingly and bowed his head.
“I have use of a man that can hold a tight grip on expenses and know that I value those not afraid to voice a divergent opinion,” Lucius told him in a friendly manner. “There’s a spot open given that Lord Doris’ has disappeared not to mention his previous behavior.”
Robart Holt stood back with a frown. “You’re offering me the Lord Treasurer’s position?” He asked evenly. “I would accept of course.”
“It’s a bit more than that,” Lucius replied with a glance at the serious Galio Veturius. “I want you to serve the Quadrumvirate Mister Robart and then the small Council.”
“What is that my Liege?” Robart asked pursing his mouth.
“The State. The Lorian nation living within Regia’s borders. This abstract notion we all talk about. Regia has a body now to look after her affairs Robart and you shall be a part of it. No Lord shall stand above it.”
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Long after Robart Holt departed and the rest of the officers left as well to tend to the army’s affairs Lucius was going over the latest reports with Ramirus when Sirio, now clad in a legion's red rough hemp tunic asked treading carefully.
“What if the army has a different favorite in the future your majesty?”
Lucius examined the fidgety scribe’s face for a moment. “The danger will always be there,” he finally replied to the skeptical Sirio. “Votes will still be cast on the matter but an officer is far more difficult to veer off the trotted path Sirio. Ambition is there but no legitimacy. A noble Lord can see himself on the throne more easily.”
“With all the respect your majesty, it’s a thin layer separating the two,” Sirio countered and Ramirus stood back on his chair to glare at the scribe.
“No system created by man is perfect or fair Sirio,” Lucius said with a smile. “The next king might not be to your liking, would that be reason enough to remove him?”
Sirio gulped down and stared at his papers.
“You can give your opinion,” Lucius told him in a casual manner.
“My Lord,” Sirio croaked. “I was thinking on what’s best for the people.”
“A ruler must ensure his successor is of sound mind and body. Without sentimentality and any sense of favoritism. If he fails and his heir isn’t then it’s on him yes? I would be responsible for it for it’s on me to ensure this doesn’t happen. I must provide Regia with a proper heir just like my father afore me. Give him the tools to protect himself and not spent half a decade in exile. It isn’t easy and it wasn’t always palatable Mister Sirio for I had to look past my own ethics or preferences. I asked myself what was better for Regia and not for Lucius despite what you might have heard or what the crowds chant outside.”
“I was never in doubt your majesty,” a flushed Sirio replied bowing his well-combed head deeply.
“Have no shame in voicing your opinion,” Lucius replied calmly. “But remember that nothing in this realm comes to us exactly how we want it. We compromise for such is the manner of things. As for the other matter you tried to raise. What is the expression mister Ramirus?”
“We are not the Gish sire,” Ramirus droned readily and Lucius nodded.
“Someone must rule else we’ll have chaos,” he elucidated looking at the uncomfortable Sirio for a moment afore he turned to the expecting Ramirus.
“Any news from Badum?” He asked changing the subject.
-
> Peter Brakis ordered Regia’s Fleet to attack upon coming in contact with Binra-Kot’s returning from Rida Khanate warships. It is difficult to give exact numbers on the vessels involved but all of Illirium’s thirteen galleasses participated in the attack. Captain Brakis had at least five or six smaller ships following them out of Krakentrap Straits. They had anchored the previous day on the west side of the mouth near the foggy Lazuli Peninsula’s shores and moved after sunset towards the protruding narrow landmass that is Seagull’s Neck.
>
> With the sea open to the west of their flank and the east flank hugging the Neck’s turn towards the Gulf of Colle, ‘Pete’ Brakis arranged his ships in an arrowhead formation, keeping seven of them in the middle with Magpie and Chameleon taking the rear to act as a reserve and the galleass Abrakas -his flagship- at the arrow’s point. The outer west flank was given to Vel Sextus-Brakis and the young captain did the same for the east flank creating another group of three warships. The latter was to anchor their formation near the visible when they arrived but partially-covered in morning mist shores.
>
> Moving lights during the night seen over a large distance had alerted the Illirium naval commander to expect company on the busy sea route from Rida to Colle. Binra-Kot’s ships were caught by surprise but the admiral was in the process of cleaning up his lines for the transport ships they had escorted to enter the gulf and it was easy for him to order them into a battle line.
>
> With Regia’s flotilla approaching and strange massive warships popping out of the morning mist one after the other, no further incentive was needed for his sailors. Binra-Kot immediately kept most of his galleons at the center and used his captured brigs mostly to surround the attacking heavier galleasses –using Issir tactics- from both sides. According to most accounts Binra-Kot fielded at least fifteen khanate galleons and seven brigs in the naval battle, with Admiral Osahar’s at least fifteen or twenty strong transports not participating initially despite carrying a big number of troops.
>
> While having an advantage in speed and number of vessels, Brakis’ flotilla was literally packed with soldiers and marines next to their larger crews. The two centers collided after a brief but violently spectacular exchange of catapult volleys with the heavy warships angling to fire their side weapon complements not always timely. Abrakas received multiple fiery projectiles and was ravaged but kept afloat by a miracle. Several warships were damaged in the first moments of the struggle, with fires erupting, decks exploding and masts toppling. Due to most of them moving with the help of oars on both sides, this didn’t slow them down at all and soon both lines were engaged in close naval combat in the center.
>
> Malabar was sunk burning like a star and Chameleon took its place in the line. Binra-Kot lost two or three galleons that had to pull out with at least one sinking outright due to a broken keel.
>
> While the east flank remained at a distance and engaged in a long distance duel, Binra-Kot’s fast-moving west flank charged at Vel Sextus-Brakis flotilla. A brig was broken apart from a lucky catapult shot and another got devastated getting between Hydra’s Spawn and Fergus. The two galleasses (armed with ten mounted Scorpios per side) pulverizing the hapless smaller ship’s sides, with some bolts even causing friendly fire casualties. Vel who had sailed wide charged ahead leaving the two galleasses to deal with the remaining smaller ships and attacked –leading a raiding party himself- Binra-Kot’s anchoring the flank galleon. In the brief brutal engagement Vel’s very-experienced Illirium marines (most were survivors of his daring landings at the Knuckle two years earlier) smashed the khanate’s opposing force and sailors in less than twenty minutes.
>
> Peter Brakis central force had gotten bogged down against Binra-Kot’s packed center with the legionnaires failing in taking over enemy ships or having difficulty assaulting them over the frothy waters but excelling in throwing off the Khanate’s marines. Prefect Valens’ Cephalus who’d found itself holding the edge of the line against most of the Khanate’s nearby ships -after Talbot went under, got mauled by enemy and friendly fire initially, then suffered repeated violent assaults from three or four Khanate galleons that kept sending boarding parties but managed to throw all of them back.
>
> An hour into the engagement it is said Cephalus’ deck boards were soaked in gore that turned the frothy waters a deep red as they tried to wash it off with each large splashing wave. With Vel breaking out from the west and the determined dark-skinned Lorians aboard Divine Trident heading straight for his rear Binra-Kot ordered the reserve vessels he’d kept in the center to move west to intercept the Sextus-Brakis’ personal warship.
>
> The center’s engagement had amassed over ten ships together, each tied on the next in a gigantic floating platform surrounded by burning wreckages, where the hard-pressed legionnaires ‘slowly found their footing’, as a Decanus commented after the battle and the Khanate’s marines started losing the battle of attrition spectacularly.
>
>
-
image [https://i.postimg.cc/0x8gmQg1/Colle-s-Gulf-3rd-hour.png]
> Regia’s Navy west flank, aboard the Divine Trident
>
> Scupper at Gulf of Colle, 1st of Nonus.
>
> Third hour
>
>
>
> Captain Klunder roared for the crews to turn the war-machines around, the sound of incoming bolts and burning shots exploding on the decks and towers of the warship coming in clusters or one after the other.
>
> BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
>
> TA-TA-TAH.
>
> The ship groaning like a living thing, boards breaking, ropes snapping and barrels hurled right and left. Mixed with gory body parts. Vel wrapped his forearm on the greased hemp line, glanced to his right and saw a marine getting split right down the middle, bones crackling, flesh tearing and innards turning to a splashing red goo. The culprit a plummeting bolt that had stricken the iron reinforced sides of the warship and ricocheted aloft.
>
> Through their lines.
>
> “ON THREE!” The wild-eyed sergeant Woltman barked, the skin on the left side of his face missing and his right sleeve on fire. The galleass rising over the waves now free after the broken galleon had crashed on them. Vel seeing the waters dipping under his bloody boots and his innards twisting in knots. The Khanate crews reloading the Scorpios seven meters away, a fiery projectile blowing a part of Divine Trident’s aftcastle’s top floor away, splintered planks blasting outwards and taking with it a catapult and Captain Klunder… whatever was left of him.
>
> The two remaining catapults firing when their ship was at its highest point, aimed downwards unwittingly and scraping ¾ of the galleon’s bow away.
>
> “GO- GO—” Woltman bellowed barely getting the words out afore a hurled harpoon skewered his neck and Vel jumped over the lip of the deck, a boot scraping the shields, feet kicking at the air over frothy waters to gain momentum and wooden bridges dropping right and left of him as the two opposing warships went from several meters apart to almost touching.
>
> Vel screamed like a madman crossing over and hurled his axe before letting go of the rope. The blade thudded on a sailor’s chest, the engineer slapped his hand on the lever and the edging upwards war-machine released its iron load.
>
> The ever rising bolt screeched under Vel’s wildly kicking feet, missed everything and the knight landed the next moment, his saber in hand. A vicious hack and the blade chopped a leg off above the ankle. A snarling Vel twisted on his axis, a dagger in his other hand and a desperate Horselord hit the deck with a groan of pain, the severed blood-spraying foot tumbling next to his distorted gnarly face.
>
> A marine came at him with a spiked harpoon, but a hissing Vel managed to parry it aside, the long weapon clanging on a barrel cracking it and then savagely buried the dagger in the man’s right cheek to the hilt. The sharp bloody point exploding out of the other side. The wound grotesque. The Khanate’s marine went down, mayhem erupting all about Vel with men dying or getting severely maimed in mere seconds. The fighting was that brutal. Vel got skewered in the ribs, the shaft breaking and the knight’s opponent losing his head a moment later.
>
> Vel bulldozed an officer over the deck’s rails that blade still stuck in him and kicked a turned his way Scorpio’s muzzle on a group of Khanate marines just as the machine was firing. The next man stepping in front of him missing half his face but clad in an Illirium marine’s uniform.
>
> “Lord Vel,” the disfigured marine officer Werges rustled and grabbed his elbow to stabilize the faltering knight. “You’re injured sire!”
>
> “Have you seen yer fucking face?” A grunting and in considerable pain Vel taunted and out in the distance the Khanate’s flagship got hit repeatedly across all its decks from Fergus’ machines. “Haha!” The wounded knight guffawed, dark-skinned face covered in gore, cracked skin and pieces of flesh not belonging to him. “That turtle-limbed Captain Lugt finally broke through!”
-
6th of Nonus, 194 NC
Hall of the Fallen
Regia’s memorial grounds
“Centurion Agricola,” Galio announced hoarsely after Lucius had finished talking and some of the local late Centurion’s close relatives that were present nodded very moved. The sculptor carefully painted the engraved name in bold black color on the white marble plaque. Standing at two meters tall it was the first of several they had gotten up, even with the place still unfinished. “Alana Shields,” the Consul continued and a shaking Faye grabbed the standing at attention Lucius’ hand tightly breaking protocol. “Roderick Scaro,” the sober Consul continued. “Prefect Marc Gripa. Centurion Decimus Sabinus. Primus Pilus Simon Gata. Centurion Gnaeus Ennius. Centurion Cassius Falx. Centurion of Rangers, Kaeso. Centurion Lucas Kato. Optio Kent Long.”
The Consul went on and on until the first forty names were heard. Everyone waited for the sculptor to finish and move away, then the Legion’s Signifer Brim Solomon brought the Panthera Tigris standard forward. He stood next to the raised thick plaque and stroke the butt on the tiled floor twice. The loud clank reverberating on the standing columns surrounding the uncovered center of the unfinished temple’s hall. The First Cohort that was standing outside the grounds responding to the call striking their bare blades on their Scutums.
Their roar coming after the ruckus raised making the ground shake under their feet.
Lucius grimaced some of the officers bowed their heads and the locals watched completely mesmerized.
“You are not dead,” Brim Solomon announced when the noise died down. “Until your name is on the wall. Those that just had their names heard, should know that they are acknowledged inside this hallowed hall. Comrades in arms,” the stout Nord added solemnly in a big commanding voice. “The Third salutes you!”
----------------------------------------
Half an hour later
“Queen Faye,” Mayor Nero bowed his head at the frowning Faye that had worn a lovely white shirt with red flowery details over her leather pants for the occasion and a fine purple very thin coat with gold stripes. Lucius greatly appreciated seeing his wife out of her armour even if it was a half-measure. In reality the Queen appeared to be quite discomforted mainly because she’d left her swords back in the tower. Flavia was adamant that ‘while our pretty queen can handle a blade and a rough leather harness, this fabric cannot.’ “We share your grief for the occasion,” the Mayor added misreading her expression.
“Thanks,” Faye hissed trying to be polite and Trupo that was doing the introductions per the protocol blinked but managed to maintain his neutral expression and announce in his cultured voice.
“High Priestess Flavia.”
“Augusta,” the Mayor continued following after the officer. “Your blessings.”
“The Fair Lady walks with you,” Flavia responded skillfully. “May your line blooms in abundance Mayor Nero. Much vigor to your seed.”
Tribune Trupo pursed his mouth almost flinching at her words, a nervous tick appearing on the right side of his face, but Nero seemed quite pleased himself.
Lucius glanced at Faye’s flushed face and then brought her rough hand to his lips to kiss it softly. “Does our warrior Queen wish to retire?” He asked courteously.
“The Queen is in suffering from standing in these shoes,” Faye retorted mimicking Trupo’s posh Flauegran accent. Lucius knew the court’s public signs of affection confused her. “How is all this helping the dead?”
“It was a goodwill gesture and something for the locals to talk about. You are doing something similar albeit without all the marble and the fancy tiles,” Lucius replied. “By the way, we can depart the grounds now. The Mayor was the last one.”
“I guess it’s a good gesture what you did for her,” Faye admitted with a pout and followed after the King with Sir Valgus marching after them stiffly.
“I have this dream from time to time,” Lucius told her soberly with a last glance at the unfinished temple. “In the dream I don’t remember their names.”
“You never forget anything,” Faye replied. “It’s a stupid dream.”
Lucius nodded. “Perhaps you are right. But in reality most of those lost I don’t really know. So the dream despite being stupid isn’t inaccurate, I think.”
Ramirus left back the Centurion he was talking to and hurried after the royal couple that was going for their horses. Nightsilver and Elzar the VI standing side by side but giving each other the space to graze without feeling cornered.
“King Lucius. Queen Faye,” Ramirus saluted energetically.
“Can it wait until we reach the tower?” Lucius asked although he sensed that it couldn’t. His instincts telling him that it had happened.
“I’m afraid it cannot my Lord,” Ramirus replied casually.
“Something from the capital?” Faye asked her mind racing to the boys.
“No ma’am just a simple announcement given the day.” Ramirus said sensing the Queen wasn’t briefed on the situation. Lucius was going to talk about it but he didn’t want their time together consumed talking about the same topics as in his war meetings. The LID director kept his eyes on the King of Regia and Lucius gave a slight nod with his head.
“Larum in Caelo,” Ramirus informed him keeping any emotion from his voice. “Auspiciously.”
“Thank you,” a relieved Lucius replied channeling his wife from earlier. “We’ll head to the tower next Ramirus.”
“Yes sir,” Ramirus said and bowed his head. “What shall I reply to Lord Shamar?”
Lucius paused for a moment and then grimaced in the attempt to hide his true feelings on the news. “Inform our guest that unfortunately in tournaments and on the high seas accidents do happen.”
“Indeed my Lord.”
“Do you need help?” Lucius asked Faye after Ramirus had marched away and she shook her head negatively. The red locks brushed and gathered back to leave her long neck uncovered and show off her comely freckled face.
Flavia has done wonders with the time she had.
Faye climbed on Elzar’s saddle easily and waited for Lucius to do the same. Sir Valgus going for his mount –it was close by- after he made sure the king was fine.
“What does it mean? What that sneaky man said,” the Queen asked and Lucius smiled.
“Red, come on. Ramirus works for me,” he scolded her in a light-hearted manner.
“Never said he wasn’t,” Faye retorted furrowing her brows. “You’re keeping secrets Alden?”
“Everything I know, you shall know,” Lucius replied ambiguously but Faye seemed to accept it. It made him feel bad and it spoiled some of the warmth the news had brought him. On their return to Elysium’s tower, the king opted to remain silent.
-
> The capable Vel Sextus-Brakis broke through the west and delayed for long enough the reserve force that Binra-Kot had rushed there to block his path, in order to offer the captains of Fergus and Hydra’s Spawn the chance to approach as well. The Khanate’s admiral got caught out of position as he’d followed after the three galleons that had moved from his center and received a freakish injury in the barrage. A catapult shot bounced off of his flagship’s deck and severed his right leg below the hip. The ‘Black Trident’ had been injured as well but ordered his three ships (his own galleass had received a lot of punishment but it was still seaworthy) to angle inwards and attack the comatose Binra-Kot’s center.
>
> In the center Peter Brakis’ Abrakas was dying, the ship burning despite efforts to keep fires under control and half his crew engaged in a savage battle with the Khanate’s marines that had stormed it. The commander of Regia’s fleet received a death blow trying to steer his ship clear from the burning wreckages either by a stray arrow or a hurled harpoon that penetrated his spleen.
>
> Prefect Valens who had dealt with repeated assaults by four galleons had lost half his fighting force but the approaching Oak who had abandoned the east flank intervened at the right moment. The east flank’s distant artillery duel had devastated the smaller ships the Khanate fleet had fielded there and had send their smashed wreckages to the bottom. With Seabear and Celinia closing in on the last galleon defending the east flank to push through, it was the right decision. Oak’s captain had kept his mind throughout the fight on the center’s struggle and his warship had drifted west to assist from early on.
>
> Several ships from Regia’s supply fleet moved forward to offer assistance as the desperate calls from drowning sailors and soldiers coming from both fleets made the covered in smoke clouds, debris littered waters, a nightmarish scene to stand witness. At least four large transports from Osahar’s Fleet that had rushed to safety inside Colle’s Gulf turned around to do the same but got intercepted from Vel’s flanking galleasses. The Illirium marines assaulted the transports but found themselves in real trouble as each was packed with almost four hundred soldiers. The weakened marines got thrown back into the sea or got butchered as they got overwhelmed but the slow transports that carried no weapons became easy prey for the watching horrified crews of the galleasses.
>
> The injured Vel Sextus-Brakis ordered the engineers and weapon crews to ‘send those bastards to Abrakas Gullet’ and the four transports promptly went down along with almost two thousand souls. The men surrounding Binra-Kot did all they could to keep the Khanate’s naval hero alive and they managed it somehow while slowly rowing the burning ship away from danger. They took advantage of the transports arrival and sacrifice to escape towards the nearby shores. His departure caused the remaining Khanate galleons to disengage. A total of four hurrying after their admiral. Peter Brakis fleet had just won a stunning victory only losing two warships. Talbot and Malabar. Three, as the unlucky Seraph would also sink on the return trip and two of the ten remaining warships had to be towed back to Aldenport.
>
> Aboard the ravaged flagship Abrakas the gravely injured Peter Brakis who had lost a naval battle under similar circumstances two years prior just outside Nattas Cove against Lesia’s ambushing galleasses but had managed to survive on an upturned boat and find land eventually, had now reversed his luck and had proved Regia could win a major naval engagement. When the officers gathered on the aftcastle over him to inform the ‘young Kraken’ the enemy fleet was in full retreat, Peter famously uttered with his dying breath.
>
> ‘By the vile spirits of the deep my lads, you have to save the ship!’
>
> His loyal crew did manage to keep the mighty flagship afloat and Peter Brakis entered the sea-loving Illirium’s pantheon of heroes himself.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter II*
>
> (Lord Lucius Alden,
>
> -Also addressed-
>
> Legatus Omnis Legionis, Praetor Maximus, King Lucius the Third
>
>
>
> Tiger’s Reign
>
> Third-Fourth Year
>
> Volume XII
>
> A Kingdom never rests on its laurels
>
> Prologue
>
> -The Heroes Pantheon & the bloody triumph at Colle’s Gulf-
>
> Early Nonus, Fall of 194 NC
>
> Timely intervention, a road through the desert and the king’s kind of general. Prelude to ‘Scorned hearts are devoid of reason’ and the ‘Tiger’s wrath.’
>
> Circa Fall of 194 NC to summer-fall of 195 NC
>
>
>
> *The largest in size ‘chapter’ of Sirio’s story, numbering several volumes