> King Lucius Aldenus III offspring & Regia’s closest heirs to the throne (austere* cognatic primogeniture)
>
>
>
> Roderick Alden (born in the month Octavus, summer of 190 NC in Kas. Lucius firstborn with Queen ‘Red’ Faye ‘Numbers’ Alden)
>
> Alistair III Alden (Born 193 NC in Cartagen -with Queen Monica ‘Holt’ Alden)
>
> Ralph III Alden (Born winter of 194 in Cartagen -with ‘Red’ Faye)
>
> Alistair II Alden (Born 191 NC in the city of Alden. King Jeremy’s firstborn with Queen Janneke ‘De Weer’ Alden, also third in line to the great Duchy of Scaldingport. At least four different ‘out of wedlock’ claimants rumored to exist for the latter.)
>
> *Vacia Alden (Born 193 NC in Cartagen -with Monica. Vacia was born twenty minutes after her brother.)
>
> *Patience De Weer Alden (Born 191 NC in Alden. Alistair’s II twin sister was born first according to some sources.)
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Marcus-Antonius Merenda
The Long Recon
Part I
-Belief is half the solution-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
-
> Nonus of 194 NC
>
> Queen Vacia’s Garden
>
> Palace of a Hundred Windows grounds
>
> Cartagen
>
> Kingdom of Greater Regia
>
> A royal picnic
>
>
>
> Young Roderick tried to stab his leading leg but failed as Lucius moved it out of the way with a smile. He shoved his attacking son away next with the left arm, the King’s smile turning into a grimace when the sweaty noble heir span around and hurled a handful of earth on his chest.
>
> A wolfishly gawking Logan grunting for the kid to attack again which Roderick did. Lucius interrupted his son’s slash attacking first from the inside and pushing the wooden sword away. The king’s training sword arching back to smack Roderick’s grip with the flat of the wooden blade and disarm him.
>
> “Ouch! Argh!” Roderick cried out frustrated and in pain. Lucius immediately rushed to check on his small hand.
>
> “Let me see that,” he told him worried with the oblivious Baron Curtius Vendor clapping with enthusiasm.
>
> “A great ‘taking of steel’ sire,” the Baron of Two Rivers Castle yelled whilst Lucius was checking on Roderick’s swollen thumb.
>
> Faye gave baby Ralph to the sitting Monica to hold and approached the puffing out Lucius. Young Alistair and little Vacia watching horrified their bigger sibling as he replied with grinded teeth to their father.
>
> “I’m just fine!”
>
> “Is that so?” Lucius asked as Faye arrived to have a look at Roderick’s finger. She glared at the scowling Logan that had picked up the heir’s training sword to give it back to him.
>
> “That’s enough Logan,” the Queen said and the Northern warrior snorted slapping the wooden blade on his left arm to show Faye her son could continue the fight.
>
> “Not with a missing finger Logan,” Lucius admonished him.
>
> “He’ll… have… to,” the Northman rustled in a rasping barely audible voice.
>
> “One day,” Lucius retorted. “But it won’t be today.”
>
> “Let’s get it under some cold water,” Faye said to her flushed son. “We let a taller man attack first,” she cautioned him with a kiss at the top of his head.
>
> “Well that was mildly exciting in a horrifying way,” Monica commented from the bench. She had the two twins watching the ‘duel’ at her feet. Lucius sighed and walked towards her after giving the sword to an adjutant. He picked up his small raven-haired daughter from the ground and used a finger to wipe the tears from her eyes.
>
> “Don’t be scared,” Lucius told her soothingly. “Roderick is fine, you heard him.”
>
> “Her stomach aches. She barely had any rest all night,” a tired-looking Monica explained whilst trying to lull Ralph back to sleep again. The drooling baby kept waking up but he was as quick to fall asleep. “I changed the milkmaid,” the young Queen added.
>
> “She’s too pale. Maybe have the sun see her more?” Lucius argued looking at the frail little girl in his arms. Vacia touched his mouth with a small hand.
>
> “It’s too early,” Monica replied and reached to get Alistair’s hand out of his mouth.
>
> “This is Cartagen and not the lake. The sea air is healthy and we don’t have all those bugs,” Lucius murmured playing with his daughter.
>
> “She’s a little girl Lucius,” Monica countered and little Alistair agreed with a chuckle.
>
> “Grill!”
>
> “That was a word right?” Lucius queried with a smile and Monica shook her head, baby Ralph waking up again startled. Then he started crying loudly which caused Alistair to join in and soon after little Vacia.
>
>
>
> “Quite the lively bunch my liege,” Baron Vendor commented when Lucius returned to the marble outdoor table to sit with the other officials. Robart Holt patiently waiting on one side.
>
> “They are,” Lucius agreed and had some cool sweetened tea. “Are these fresh dates Cyrus?” He asked Cyrus Falx the second, his old chamberlain’s son was named after his father.
>
> “Yes my Lord. From Novesium.” Cyrus replied.
>
> “Is Cartaport working again then?”
>
> “Only for smaller merchant ships and the military,” Cyrus said and offered him the plate but Lucius denied it with a calm gesture.
>
> “Duke Brakis is here,” Tribune Trupo reported breaking the brief moment of peaceful contemplation Lucius had. “A big funeral in Illirium.”
>
> Lucius glanced at the silent Sirio that was scribbling down notes or decoding missives.
>
> “Ramirus?” He asked the LID scribe and Sirio paused to check on his papers.
>
> “He is in Alden King Lucius,” Sirio replied dutifully.
>
> “Will he travel to Sabretooth next?”
>
> “My King I believe he’s pretty convinced most of the First Legion is missing,” Sirio replied. “Baron Scylla is right.”
>
> “Ramirus wrote that?”
>
> “He did my Lord.”
>
> “Typically a Legatus could move the unit Maximus,” Trupo said, first combing his moustache carefully and then tasting the lukewarm tea himself. “You ordered him to rebuild and retrain it with new recruits.”
>
> “I did.” Lucius agreed and watched as the servants were preparing the carriage to return them to the Palace. “What else is Ramirus reporting from Alden?”
>
> “Severus had men searching the road to Forestfort at the Riverdor junction,” Sirio replied. “Some legion scouts had been sighted there months back but nothing recently.”
>
> “Galio is about to declare Merenda absent without leave sire,” Trupo informed him. “Optio Holt is either lying or was left out of the loop by the old heads.”
>
> Well, the old heads of the First are one thing. Sure, they probably treat the young Optio as a pariah but Merenda’s own officers were in on it as well. And he has brought a lot of them along with him to control the old guard.
>
> Nah, this is all Marcus-Antonius doing.
>
> Robart Holt had frowned hearing the Tribune mentioning his son.
>
> “He’s new at the job,” Lucius remarked evenly. “We won’t hold it against him. Merenda is probably trying to get the job done at a minimum cost to the army.”
>
> “Eh,” Trupo muttered unsure where Lucius was going with this.
>
> “If the King has a moment to spare,” the Lord Treasurer intervened and added with a grimace. “I know it’s time to depart my Lord.”
>
> “We have a bit of time Robart. Getting the kids inside the carriage is not a small affair,” Lucius said with a warning stare to Trupo to keep the matter for a closed session. There were about a hundred people around them or near enough to eavesdrop, from certified merchants, cooks, palace officials and servants, to military personnel.
>
> Nothing was small in Cartagen.
>
> “Governor Macrinus withheld half the tithe for a second year in a row,” Robart Holt started.
>
> “You’ve talked to the Consul about it?” Lucius dodged.
>
> “I have and I have his reasoning my liege,” Robart replied stiffly, looking at the numbers in his scrolls. “He’s using them to raise troops for his ‘northern guards’. Same with a portion of the iron and steel coming from Krakenfort. The leather from Kas.”
>
> “I get the picture mister Holt,” Lucius replied evenly.
>
> “Well, I’m not sire… you have instructed the First Legion to move to Sabretooth and most of the Fourth is in Aldenport. Now I learn the Third’s engineers will return to Storm’s Rest?”
>
> “To help build the city,” Lucius explained.
>
> “Why not move the Third to Anorum?”
>
> “I need it here. Nonus Sula will take care of the coast once we are certain where the northwestern borders would settle.”
>
> Robart stood back with a frown. “Macrinus doesn’t need… these are exorbitant expenses for one or two thousand soldiers.”
>
> “A portion of those men have been replenishing the legions,” Lucius noted.
>
> “Yes, my lord but now the Legions are replenished and most of the men serving, still have at least fifteen or more years left to serve, enough have twenty and…” he glanced at his numbers. “Two fifths of them have just started their twenty five years contracts.”
>
> An aloof Trupo run the knuckle of an index finger over his nicely trimmed mustache –but for the curved tips- the other arm casually snatching Sirio’s writing wrist and lifting it away from the paper.
>
> “Macrinus is a Legion officer and former military instructor. He is still on the Third’s reserve roster and receives a yearly wage,” Lucius said calmly. “That aside he won’t half-train or half-build a military unit.”
>
> Robart Holt pursed his mouth. “What does this mean your highness? Because we could use the funds to help your kin Lord Reynard Alden tunnel through Goldwall Peaks. I haven’t finished reading his proposal yet.”
>
> It wasn’t Reynard’s proposal.
>
> This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
>
> “Duke Holt shall fund the desert road. The Baron of Aldenfort is under his wing now.” Lucius informed him.
>
> “When did this become a desert road?”
>
> “Baron Vendor?” Lucius asked, instructing the stout man to answer this part.
>
> “We could connect Two Rivers Castle with Aldenfort and the Canlita Sea,” Lord Vendor started. “The capital in its turn. Even Demames.”
>
> “Through the Alden Sands?” Robart Holt grimaced. “Even so, this doesn’t answer my question Lord Vendor.”
>
> “The Duke was given control of the Barony and now rules over the south side of the Canlita Sea,” Lucius replied. "The first Asturia Duke to manage it. He’ll work on connecting the two parts of the kingdom through the desert.”
>
> In exchange Asturia would withdraw its claim on the sources of Framtond River and the disputed from Lesia Stonemaze Peaks. Duke Holt was to bequeath the wilderness there to Storm’s Rest.
>
> “My Lord, Duke Brakis expects a meeting,” Trupo intervened stopping Robart Holt from asking more questions at this point.
>
> “Speak to the Consul again,” Lucius told the Lord Treasurer and turned to Trupo. “Arrange it.”
>
> He made to stand up but paused seeing that Faye had come to their table, the crowd distracted by the sight of Layton coming out of the cinnamon trees, huge club resting on his broad shoulder.
>
> “Did you find our Marcus-Antonius?” The Northern Queen asked and had a sip from Lucius’ cup. She puckered her lips unsure. “Cyrus what is this flavorful shit?”
>
> “It’s mint and honey tea your grace with crushed sugarcane,” Cyrus replied. “Good for a cold morning like this. Queen Monica ordered it as it’s famously soothing to the throat.”
>
> The flushed and probably quite hot Faye frowned and glanced at the sun over their heads. “I don’t know about that or if you’re jesting with the ‘cold morning’ talk, but next time she asks for weird stuff just switch it to a proper drink like beer or ale. And cut back on the grain seeds and fruit. I’ve two boys to raise. Get me some more meat else I’ll go get it myself.”
>
> On the menu was Faye’s meaning.
>
> Trupo blinked at the risqué wording with Baron Vendor pursing his mouth but opting to abstain from making a comment until the King offered his own opinion on the matter of the queen’s search for more meat.
>
> “Yes ma’am,” a blank faced Cyrus finally replied making a mental note of her instructions.
>
> “Keep everything available Cyrus,” a smiling Lucius intervened. “The Legatus is on a field trip Faye,” he added mostly for the rest of them to listen. If he’d guessed right, Merenda hadn’t turned west to Forestfort or east towards Riverdor nor did he disappear into thin air. The Legatus was marching through the woodland hugging the marshes towards the Knob, straight between the two rivers.
>
>
-
image [https://i.postimg.cc/Wb4tGMMg/Eagle-s-Nest-194-195.png]
Early Fall of 194 NC
A hundred and twenty kilometers west of the Knob
Seventy kilometers from Eagle’s Nest Castle
West Granlake Marshes Forest
Kingdom of Kaltha
The border between the Great Principality of Issir’s Eagle & the Duchy of Scaldingport
Seven hundred meters from the bridge over Mudriver
North side
The sharp smack scared his horse, its head attempting to flinch away but kept back by the reins legionnaire Cucan held in a tight grip.
“Hard cack the rains softened sir,” Vegetius commented while a soaked Marcus-Antonius wiped the bug juices on his red cape and then stared at his palm, cheek still stinging from the self-afflicted blow. Vegetius gave him a dirty towel to clean his face and helm. The Legatus removed the latter pulling at the leather cords and run the towel over his moist face a couple of times.
Uhm.
“Towel also smells of feet and fresher shite Vegetius,” he commented sourly. A sudden downpour had come out of nowhere and had soaked men and animals to the bone. “Why do you think is that? Leave the weather out.”
“The Legatus notion is incorrect,” Vegetius retorted smartly. “Respectfully I’ve only cleaned my hands with it sir!”
Antonius eyed him under furrowed brows. “Did you clean your boots with yer arse then? Because the alternative speaks sadly of your hygiene soldier.”
“Ha-ha,” his aide Domus chuckled with Prefect Damascus grimacing unsure on the jest.
“I used me hands sir!” Vegetius roared and Antonius tossed him the towel in the face to stop him. “Whilst on campaign clean footwear are a priority!” Vegetius added grabbing at the towel.
“What does that…?” The Legatus of the First started, himself enjoying his new boots but even so covered in mud to the knees, when he heard horses approaching from the bridge and paused. He quickly took a moment to compose himself, hands slapping at the dried up mud to get it off of him and the approaching Vegetius eagerly cleaning Antonius’ armour with the towel until the Legatus hard-cuffed the suddenly accommodating legionnaire’s helm to put a stop to it.
“Damascus you’ve met the man briefly afore, what do we have to work with here?” Marcus-Antonius asked after all the silliness had died down.
“He’s sharp as a blade Legatus,” the Prefect replied stiffly. Damascus was three years older than Marcus-Antonius but he looked older than twenty seven. “And one-eyed.”
“Vegetius stand by his blind side so he doesn’t see you’re full of shit,” Marcus-Antonius ordered pensively and a smirking Domus shook his head, signing with his maimed arm for Cucan to stand back with their horses as well. “You too Domus, we don’t want to scare the man.”
His aide made to reply but a large group of Scaldingport’s grey-cloaks came trotting down the road and stopped him, most of the arriving men-at-arms plate over chainmail armours having the sigil of Forestfort carved on their chests and shields. A fort’s walls with crows flying over the parapets. Their leader was clad in a tight-fitting dark-grey plate cuirass complemented by several pieces of a knight’s armour over black leather.
All pieces but for the helm, Merenda reckoned. The latter the rider had secured on his horse’s saddlebags.
“You are on the wrong side of the river legionnaires,” the wiry Issir knight wearing the leather eyepatch rustled stopping his horse. “A long way from the border as a matter of fact.”
“The Lord of Forestfort, Sir Rik De Weer,” Damascus whispered in Merenda’s ear timely while the rest of the mounted Crows settled down behind their leader.
“It’s an auspicious event for us to meet Sir Rik in the wilderness,” Marcus-Antonius started in a friendly mirthful manner. “Much as it is for the Lord of Forestfort to meet the Legatus of the First Legion.”
The standing high on the saddle of his warhorse Rik stared at the dirty Lorian officers one by one before returning his sole eye on the half-smirking Legatus who remembered to introduce himself properly this time. “Marcus-Antonius Merenda.”
“The First Legion?” Rik queried crooking his mouth. “You are under Lucius now.”
“The King of Regia!” Marcus-Antonius boomed with a fierce leer.
The Issir noble stood back, a gloved hand patting the rich mane of his warhorse to calm it down. “I see legionnaires but no legion,” he finally said.
“The First is heading to Eagle’s Nest,” Marcus-Antonius elucidated.
“There is a legion marching towards Eagle’s Nest?” The knight asked sounding bewildered.
“Close to it. Some units are under restructuring. I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Lucius is invading Kaltha?” Sir Rik De Weer asked evenly not partial to the Legatus’ wit.
“Far from it,” Marcus-Antonius replied. “We are on a long recon, but got lost in the marshes.”
“And ended up near Eagle’s Nest.”
“Auspiciously.”
Rik pursed his mouth, finely trimmed white goatee giving him a refined look.
“You’ll give me a reason Legatus?” He finally asked.
“Two reasons,” Merenda replied. “I need timber and this is a rich forested area.”
“The king’s lands.”
“I don’t know. Which king? Or is it a Queen? You are backing the latter I think,” Marcus-Antonius retorted and continued before Sir Rik could get a reply out. “The other reason is the Horselord threat which you are currently fighting against.”
“The Khan is a long way from Regia’s borders. Lucius decided to help?”
“He already did.”
“Lord Anker’s effort.”
“This is perhaps where you are mistaken,” Merenda explained. “Lucius offered helping hand to Kaltha to give you time to find your footing. This is just a friendly legion in training that got lost as it habitually happens and ended up in a hopefully welcoming territory.”
“These are your orders?”
“I just told you. We’ll head to Eagle’s Nest and back again.”
“The Khan is poised to strike at Boar’s Horn River,” a skeptical Rik noted and swung a leg over the saddle to dismount under his men’s amused stares. The knight gave the reins to a burly man-at-arms that had approached and then walked near the Lorian officers. “Or the Red Bridge. But I personally think he’ll try to break his army out first.”
“He might do that,” Marcus-Antonius agreed. “But he might also try to find a third way out of the stalemate as much as this might inconvenience your own effort good Sir. Your father is busy fighting Lord Putra and guard Boar Horn River, so you can’t deal with a third front. Now Duke Charles is the most likely to move here but he’s fence-riding since that will probably displease Scaldingport and he would rather not leave Riverdor’s walls.”
“The guard at Eagle’s Nest Castle is small,” Rik said. “It’s not a good spot to fight Horselords.”
“If the Khan breaks through to the junction and the Small Plains,” the Legatus argued. “Fighting him there might be even more difficult. Have you ever fought Horselords in the desert Sir Rik?”
“My brother has.”
“What does he think of the experience?”
“Gust wants to crash Lord Putra as soon as possible,” Rik replied thoughtfully and blinked his sole eye seeing Prefect Damascus listening in to their conversation. “What are Lucius’ plans here? There are several matters still unresolved.”
“The King has yet to be apprised of our whereabouts given the circumstances,” Merenda said evenly and Sir Rik gave a slight nod with his head.
“Why risk it in this current political climate Legatus?” He asked. “Sounds like career suicide.”
“By the time the political climate is ripe for action,” Merenda expounded. “I’m afraid it might be too late. This is the sixth year of this conflict and the Khan is already on Jelin. Where might the Horselord be a year down the line? It is anyone’s guess Sir Rik. I’m not a politician. However I’m here to serve Regia’s interests and I can’t watch the avalanche coming without using the tools in hand.”
“I disobeyed an order to save my sister so I see your reasoning. I’ve a practical father and you just might have an intelligent king Legatus. Still a father can be forgiving and few will challenge a De Weer. Will the same apply to a Merenda?” Rik asked after listening to his explanation. “Whatever the case may be for your future, you are not in my lands technically. Having said that I might not be able to offer help beyond the river much as I find value in your reasoning.”
“I might be wrong,” Merenda offered and Sir Rik shook his head in agreement.
“May Luthos guide you out of future plights in case you are not,” the Scaldingport knight said soberly. “Captain Emil Nak commands the guards at Eagle’s Nest. An old officer of the Second Foot counting days to retire,” he added pursing his mouth. “Petty Baron Govert Eman will take his word on everything, so I’ll talk to Captain Nak first in yer shoes.”
“I appreciate you are leaving past grievances aside to keep an open mind on the potential peril Sir Rik,” the relieved Legatus of the First Legion said.
“Legatus,” Rik had replied his face hardening. “I’m more committed in fighting the Khan’s horde than Lord Anker or your King at this point. For practical and deeply personal reasons. You can label this any way you prefer.”
----------------------------------------
“Well, that went surprisingly smoothly,” Domus commented when they turned around to catch up with Prefect Servius Celsus engineers and the supply train. Not much of the latter really. “Considering your track record.”
“Domus,” Marcus-Antonius said with a grimace of surprise. “I’ve an excellent rapport with people of all standings and professions.”
Twice that with ladies.
“Ahm, I don’t believe you have sir, other than Praetor Maximus that is. And you sort of lucked out in that due to that divan Red Faye needed.”
“What are you talking about? The men love me!” Marcus-Antonius protested.
“They used to afore the marshes sir,” Domus replied sadly. “Not so much lately. But I’m optimistic you’ll turn it around.”
Huh?
“Damascus?” The Legatus asked turning on the saddle to stare at the discomforted to be put on the spot Prefect.
“Legatus… ugh, there are several… sides… ehem, one can approach your query.”
“It’s the army Damascus,” Marcus-Antonius rustled. “Hardships are to be expected.”
“Perhaps the reasons weren’t sufficiently put forth—?”
“What reasons? The orders you mean.”
“I do sir. I stand corrected. May I query on the nature of the orders?”
“Didn’t I just give my reasoning to the good knight?” Marcus-Antonius probed with a bit of razz.
“Celsus’ timber…” Damascus started unsure.
“Yes.”
“You haven’t… the matter was not raised in the pre-marching briefing?”
“Forget about that,” an eager Marcus-Antonius urged him on. “What else?”
“The Khan’s army.”
The Legatus gave him a pleased nod.
“We are not at war with the Khan.” Damascus noted in a hesitant manner.
“Did that stop the King from giving them the business?” Marcus-Antonius asked meaningfully.
“Sir the King has not issued—”
“Yet.” Merenda cut him off.
Domus sighed deeply seeing the Prefect’s concerned expression. “The Legatus has a certain kind of logic Prefect. Some have called it madness. It fucked up Ligur’s plan and it just might do the same to the Khan’s. Having said that it might fuck us up too,” his aide added. “Just think positively.”
“Think… positively,” Damascus murmured and glanced at the beefy ‘Praetorians’ Vegetius and Cucan that shook their helmed heads with enthusiasm.
“Our Legatus knows what he’s doing,” Vegetius assured him with a comical toothy leer.
Marcus-Antonius hadn’t fully formulated a plan yet as he’d no idea what the situation was at Eagle’s Nest but that hadn’t stopped him afore.
“Cucan take the lead,” he ordered.
“Ah, sir… I’m not familiar with the terrain.” Cucan muttered in a small voice.
“Come again?” The Legatus snapped irate not believing his ears.
“I’ll take the lead sir!” Cucan corrected himself loudly and clicked his tongue to get the army-issued horse going.
“Just follow the darn tracks we left on the plaguing road. Goodness me, it’s not that difficult soldier!” Marcus-Antonius admonished the flushed legionnaire and Domus turned to stare at the concerned Damascus riding next to him. His aide gave Damascus a knowing wink to alleviate the officer’s worries.
“Belief in himself is half of the solution for our Legatus,” Domus told Damascus pointing at the miffed Marcus-Antonius riding after Cucan to show him the way. “The other half is foresight.”
Leaving vague whether their Legatus possessed any of the latter or not.
“I hope there’s a method to this madness,” Damascus commented simply.