‘Gods made the ground we stand on and gave us feet and good boots to traverse it.’
Legatus Marcus-Antonius Merenda
Fall of 194 NC
From Plautus’ famed ‘Par Ocreis’
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Marcus-Antonius Merenda
The Long Recon
Part II
-A method to the madness-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/Wb4tGMMg/Eagle-s-Nest-194-195.png]
> Khan’s Reserve Army*
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> -Remained at Colle initially.
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> Under Havor Dhin-Awal (Rin An-Pur) one of Prince Radin’s longtime friends along with his older brother Hajot that had been killed back in 188 NC near Jade Lake by a rebel Horselord named Kalac.
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> Total number (of fighting force) around 6500
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> Added with Prince Radin in the last months of 193. Moved out of Colle in winter of 194. Participated in the siege of Jaw Castle. Redeployed at the end of summer of 194 NC at the easternmost edge of King’s Forest initially. There it prepared for a thrust between the two lakes to open a viable route towards the southeastern portion of Kaltha**.
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> 1000 Medium Horse (Lancers) with some Cataphracts (most of the men were given to the Prince by his brother Atpa to deal with Sir Gust and keep him on Eplas. Prince Atpa was furious upon learning that Radin had brought them to their father after the latter ordered Prince Radin to join him on campaign. Half of the initial two thousand followed Prince Radin in the summer of 194 to assist him attacking Boar Horn Bridge.)
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> 2000 Horse Archers under Kontar. (Received 500 as reinforcements from Rida.)
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> Around 3500 mercenaries (mounted infantry) under Birka (Dia Castle) and Pourem (Ri Yue-Tu). Received about 500 mercenaries (Horselords, Lorians) as reinforcements from Altarin.
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> 280 wagons and 3-4 thousand horses. Unknown number of slavers (probably 200+) under Hamadi. Around four thousand slave workforce.
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> *A portion of the force had been deployed at Granlake village at Granlake to cut off Eagle’s Nest supply from Visserhaven, another to the King’s Docks at Smallake (Small-Lake) to cut off Eagle’s Nest supply from Meertje village. Which didn’t really affect Eagle’s Nest or the large village of Moeras (the castle grounds and the three villages comprising a Petty Barony which was part of Issir’s Eagle principality under Baron Govert Eman) with its flat fertile pastures and fields that was one of the major foodstuff providers for the capital and an important trading hub. Eagle’s Nest connected the capital with the Duchies of east and south Kaltha -especially Riverdor, but also Forestfort- utilizing a main road and two lake and river routes.
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> ** Dhin-Awal was given several attack options after completing the first leg (which was the capture or destruction of Eagle’s Nest). Take control of the remaining ports at the easternmost banks of the two lakes and then either attack Forestfort over Mudriver to distract Scaldingport or continue towards Riverdor to sever Lord Anker from Riverdor, Badum and the Lakelords.
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> Prince Radin and the majority of the Horselord generals opposed the viability of the task but Burzin insisted that reaching Small Plains and the desert bordering Regia would nullify Duke Charles’ disputed advantage in numbers due to favorable terrain.
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> The reason for the dispute was that the estimations (from the poorly informed or disagreeing on east/center Jelin geography and population Khanate’s advisors) ranged from roughly equal, to a three to one advantage -at least- given the sizes of the cities involved local levies, the castle guards and the rumored presence of the First Foot. Especially if the Lakelords assisted the procrastinating new Duke of Riverdor. The latter was fully controlling Badum at the time and had successfully rooted-out the infiltrating Khanate’s agents by enforcing martial-law, refusing to accept refugees, monitoring the roads towards Canlita Sea and limiting trade with west Kaltha.
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> The Khanate learned more about Kaltha’s faraway territories from Regia’s and Lesia’s ports.
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Four days later
Elongated parch of ‘land between the lakes’ south edge (touching the doab) just before Central Marshes
Eagle’s Nest ‘flat uplands’ east facing side
The road coming from Forestfort hugging the woodlands on the northern banks of Granlake
Small township of Eagle’s Nest
Four kilometers from Moeras Lake (the unsung smallest lake of the great lakes area) and its village
Eighty-five kilometers from the capital
First Legion’s field Headquarters
Early morning briefing
I need more officers, the Legatus thought.
The Signifer, Centurion Sextus Crassus was standing next to the Primus Pilus Glycia, with Prefect Memon a foot to his right listening to Prefect Damascus’ report. His aide Prefect Domus standing to Marcus-Antonius’ right and the engineer officer Servius Celsus standing to his left.
“Sir!” Memon grunted, but paused for Decanus Pilatus to bring a cup of hot brew to the Legatus. “We need—”
Marcus-Antonius stopped him raising a palm, the fingers extended. He brought the warm creamy beverage to his mouth and had a sip. I need more officers of supporting disposition, or with a sense of humor, Marcus-Antonius expounded on his previous thought.
The mixture was pretty good. Gives a good jolt to the system.
“Morn…cheui?” He asked the accommodating Decanus.
“Roasted beans from a desert Cofol shrub sir. The Qahiya plant. Or Coffea depending on the region. This one is from Yin Xi-Yan. The Horselords brought tons of it with their fleet and some has filtered into the local market.”
“Smuggled is your meaning?”
“Over the lakes sir.”
It was a pretty thorough explanation.
Still…
“What’s the creamy stuff?”
“Cow milk Legatus. Traditionally Morncheui is also served with crushed sugarcane.”
Well then. That’s a fucking mouthful to order.
“Let’s call it Kofi and leave it straight the next time,” Marcus-Antonius ordered.
“Sir!” Memon grunted turning an unhealthy red in the face, “We had to talk with commander Nak without your presence…”
“Was he upset?” Marcus-Antonius jested and gave his cup to Domus in order for him to try it. The Prefect glugged it all down without hesitation and it left a line on his upper lip, Domus wiped with the back of his hand.
“Of course… He asked on our intentions!” Memon was obviously upset himself. Eyes ogling and looking like a man that hasn’t slept in a comfortable bed in months. Which was the truth for all of them. “Legatus,” the Prefect added through his teeth.
“Was he pressing or scared?” Marcus-Antonius asked calmly.
“What manner of query… Sir, this is serious.”
“For him.” Marcus-Antonius replied. “It is serious having the capital under the Khan’s horseshoe and a Legion on his back. The man feels cornered understandably. Mayhap he’s even worried. Dare I say scared?”
Memon pursed his mouth tightly. “The impression was given.”
“We outnumber his guards by a lot,” Glycia noted and Marcus-Antonius nodded.
“We have the upper hand here, far as the local commander is concerned.” The Legatus explained and waited for the officers to acknowledge it. “Yes?” He pressed.
“The Legatus won’t move forward unless an answer is given,” Domus informed the rest of them.
“Captain Nak is worried,” Memon yielded. “Baron Eman is equally annoying. He’s asked for a meeting twice in three days.”
“We’ll speak to the Captain first.” Marcus-Antonius informed them. “Give him sufficient explanation on why we are here.”
“Would the Legatus be so kind as to give similar account to us at some point?” Memon grunted.
Ah. The boring part, Marcus-Antonius thought and found a stool to sit down. The legs sinking in the soft ground some. He stared beyond the tent’s shade, the Legion Castrum waking up under the sound of conical trumpets. The ‘Tuba’.
“How many recruits do we have in training dear Memon?” Marcus-Antonius asked.
“Over a thousand and three hundred. Two Cohorts. The Third and Fourth. Based on your reforms.”
“It’s the King’s reforms,” Marcus-Antonius replied. “A unit is a unit Prefect. It’s how you use it that gives it added value or lessens it. This legion is in training. Marching is part of that historically.”
“Two hundred kilometers through the bogs sir,” Memon reminded him. “We have almost fifty men that are still very sick and no supply train. We left it at Sabretooth.”
“No we didn’t. We left wagons there that is true and some surplus materiel. But we had nothing really to work with,” Marcus-Antonius replied. “Minimum funds to buy from the local market. A difficult place to get timber, right Celsus? A scorching desert at the near for exercises.”
“Yes sir,” the Prefect of Engineers replied.
“Captain Nak will hear the same reason I gave you for the most part.” Marcus-Antonius continued. “We are training and attempted a long recon that was partially successful.”
“Partially?” Memon probed.
“Now we know or we will soon, what the maps don’t show,” Marcus-Antonius replied. “This part, Emil Nak will learn later. But before I venture there, Celsus will have his machines build.”
Celsus looked at him. “I’ll need to cut down more trees. The Baron complained about it already.”
“How much?”
“A hundred big trees.”
“Make it three hundred. We’ll need Scorpios, catapults and trebuchets.”
“Yes sir.”
“Wait a minute,” Memon cut in with a grimace. “How are we going to drag everything back to Sabretooth?”
“We’ll use the road this time,” Marcus-Antonius replied.
“We don’t have the animals or wagons sir.”
“Celsus will make sure we do with the extra timber.”
“Yes sir,” Celsus agreed and Memon glared at him.
“This place is a farmland,” Marcus-Antonius explained. “They have animals.”
“Legatus,” Prefect Damascus intervened. “This place is also the high king’s lands.”
“Eh, it’s chaos out there Prefect,” Marcus-Antonius replied and got up from the stool as he was the only one sitting. “The man with the bigger cock rules.”
“The bigger cock sir?” Memon grunted with a grimace of disbelief.
“A metaphor,” Domus elucidated and Marcus-Antonius chuckled.
“Domus is an autodidact. I’m stunned at his progress over the years,” he explained to the other officers. “Gentlemen, don’t look so surprised. I’m quite serious here. He reads a lot every night. What are you reading about now Prefect?”
Domus pursed his mouth. “Modius Lucanus sir. Annals de Aldenus of the Bronze Age.”
Lucan.
“Heavy reading. Lots of gore and backstabbing. Tits and phalluses, naughty gods and well-spoken goat-herders.” Marcus-Antonius teased. “Not easy to find outside a library. Why, do we have a true Philomath in camp Domus?”
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“Caius-Metilus Plautus gave me the manuscript sir,” Domus replied stiffly. “Fits the profile.”
“You think Arminius needs a scribe? He does. I can’t read his writing at all. We could use him.”
“Plautus fancies himself a biographer so he’ll be a reluctant scribe,” Domus retorted, adding with a grimace. “But has a good collection of books with him.”
“Well, he’ll be a scribe for the First whether he likes it or not. I’ll need a LID officer also. “Decanus Pilatus and that camp sergeant Furius Tasius.”
“The second?” Domus asked playing along.
“That fella,” Marcus-Antonius agreed. “Brief them dear Domus.”
“Legatus,” Memon intervened again. “This is a friendly castle yes? What do we need a trebuchet for?”
Marcus-Antonius stared at the light slopes that led to the castle, only to turn into a nice fertile flatland towards Moeras and the King’s Forest. “Defense,” he finally said to end the morning briefing over the explosion of queries from the officers present.
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Plautus was a short in stature Lorian from Asturia. While a man of letters, he’d a muscular body and strong arms as he enjoyed the ‘smell of work’ as he put it. He also immediately refused to take a position in the Legatus’ general staff.
“I’m a civilian Legatus,” Plautus explained.
“Yet, you’ve followed the legion when most of the civilians stayed behind with Optio Holt.” Marcus-Antonius noted and rapped his fingers on the table.
“No man is the same,” Plautus replied. “Similar yes but there are nuances. Sometimes quite prominent.”
“Arminius does most of the work. There’s no point in changing the system, but still another scribe is useful.”
“You want a favorable report,” Plautus said without mincing his words.
“I’d rather keep my head,” Marcus-Antonius jested. “If I can help it.”
“Turn the legion around. March down the road to Forestfort and then the junction. You’ll be back in Sabretooth in a month,” Plautus retorted pushing back on his chair. Marcus-Antonius had given the custom-made wooden stools to Pilatus. He was to place them in his small office inside the headquarters’ building. The soon to be LID officer (though Pilatus didn’t know it yet) had no table to write on but he can contemplate on the matter whilst sitting at least, Antonius thought.
“The Khan will strike here. Either as a diversion for another action or for real it makes no difference. He’ll brush away the guards and overrun the villages. Take control of the lakes. And then he’ll have another road open.”
“Have you been to Forestfort?” Plautus asked pursing his mouth.
“I have. Not recently. I doubt time has harmed the boulders on its walls.”
Plautus shrugged his broad shoulders. “No road available.”
“We just crossed the bogs dear Plautus,” Marcus-Antonius countered. “It was bothersome, we had to leave heavy equipment behind which was not a problem since we had none available, but still enough men made it. What makes you think the Khan can’t do the same? Even more with his resources he could navigate Serpent River, bring the heavy equipment along by another way.”
“To Riverdor.”
“To Regia’s border.” Marcus-Antonius retorted stiffly, but then sighed. “You are not a fool dear Plautus. If you can read a book, then you can read a map. Kaltha is all but split in two. It makes no difference anyway since they are divided over the succession already. They can’t win, because most lords are thinking of the future and look to preserve their strength. They can’t win because it is challenging to attack over the Red Bridge and head for the capital whilst being exposed for days in the open.”
“Lord Anker could put Elsanne on the throne and solve his problem.” Plautus paused with a little smirk. “Ah, this was improper. You know our King’s wishes.”
“Lucius can’t commit to another war right now. He might lose the people. That doesn’t mean this is the right action. But kings must think of many things.”
“You might lose your head Legatus if you fail. It would be the easiest solution. Not to mention dooming a lot of men. Why?”
Marcus-Antonius smacked his lips and eyed the solemn Domus. “The best way to forge an army is to throw the unit into action. The fear of a common foe unites. Beyond training or long marches. The alternative is to stay idle and watch the Khan break out of the lakes, cut off Riverdor and open another front against Scaldingport. Perpetual defeats or costly victories don’t birth success. It’s like that for years. I don’t see it as a winning formula and you need a smaller than you opponent to even have a chance. Win by attrition. I don’t believe it’s viable. The Khanate is much bigger than what the High King believed.”
“The Khanate might have lost Greenwhale Peninsula,” Plautus noted. “They have their own internal problems.”
“As long as the Khan lives this doesn’t matter as no one is brave enough to stand against him. Not many Cofols serve with the Khan anyway in key positions. As mercenaries I guess they are around and I’ll give you that. It’s a matter of numbers and I don’t believe Kaltha can put a capable army in the field for a while. By the time they can, it might be too late. I don’t want to see Khanate banners outside Lorian cities. It doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Numbers might be your problem very soon Legatus,” Plautus said with a smile.
“We’ll know, when we’ll know.”
Plautus thought about it for a moment. “Legatus, your father is commander of the Royal Knights. You know you’ve reached the furthest up the ladder you can right? In the grand scheme of things what does a Legatus of a respected but middling family and of… ehem, risqué personal origins do after that? Is it glory you seek?”
I can be offended sure, but whilst I like my luxuries, I’ve a thick skin Plautus.
“Call me Antony,” Marcus-Antonius said in a charming manner. “Dear Caius.”
“Don’t fall for it,” Domus warned the scribe.
“A ladder is a tool.” Marcus-Antonius continued with an angry tick he managed to get under control. “You talk of schemes and lofty positions, but life is right here right now and while particular in its tastes, stands also blind. The future ever uncertain. You either act and win something not expected or stand idle wallowing in misery thinking of past long gone glories whilst remaining within your tight confines. I can’t do that. Better live with enthusiasm I say and milk thy chances to the fullest like a maiden’s tit. I’ll repair the ladder, care for it and use it to scale a wall. Take a castle or burn an enemy’s camp. Use a fresh horse to charge on an opponent’s flank. A turn of fate gives you a pair of foreign boots below yer legion’s greaves. Well, use them to take you further and tempt the Fates themselves. The contents of a half-empty purse to chase a pile of gold on a table. And a host of displeased men to win an unwinnable war. What does this worth in the grand scheme of things?”
“The tale of Tyranus the Mad.” Plautus said with a half-grin.
“Hide for a summer in the flatlands edges only to perish in winter’s cold,” Marcus-Antonius recited. “Ever retreat until you run out of ground to gain another summer or two. Or strike over good terrain and break the giant’s legs whilst your arms are still strong. Win the fertile vale for yerself and feed your family for years.”
“Tyranus got killed as a reward,” Plautus reminded him and Marcus-Antonius noted.
“Yet his name we recite and nobody talks about those that did it. In the tale’s end his Lorians inherited the lands forever.” Marcus-Antonius countered opening his arms expressively. “They’ll remember Tyranus and Laran. Magnus Lucius and our good Praetor Maximus. They’ll remember Antony as well for you can’t fake your way into the annals of history.”
Plautus bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a smile from forming on his lips.
“Ah, you poor fool,” Domus rustled shaking his head and showed the scribe his maimed arm. Only two of the fingers still working. “This is what he doesn’t tell you.”
“He’s jesting,” Marcus-Antonius argued with a glare at his old friend.
“What would the great Antony do after this? When there are no more wars to fight?” A now interested Plautus asked disregarding Domus’ warning. “That is if the tool somehow doesn’t break this time?”
He was talking about the Legion.
Marcus-Antonius stood back on his chair, a half-crafty half-leering expression on his handsome face.
“Then we’ll use it again dear Caius. Find us another conflict. Gods made the ground we stand on and gave us feet and good boots to traverse it.”
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An hour later
The township of Eagle’s Nest
Main road bordering the Fish Market
And the castle’s South Gates
“First Cohort halt!” The Primus Pilus Glycia boomed. The Old Mother’s Centuries’ officers translating the orders down the ranks as every Century came to a stop behind the mounted Marcus-Antonius and Prefect Domus.
The Legatus dismounted and stepped on the flagstone road where he worked a finger in his collar to get everything in place again after the short ride. Sergeant Tasius with Decanus Pilatus approached with a sharp order from Domus as they had followed the Cohort under the fearful eyes of the local merchants and market tenants. The appearance of the Cohort had silenced and ceased operations inside the Fish Market.
“Goodness me,” Marcus-Antonius commented turning to look at the two minor officers. “The stench is terrible. Snaps you out of yer stupor. Um. Is that a heap of trout Decanus?”
“Legatus!” Tasius roared stepping forward and saluting sharply, thudding a fist on his chest. “The Decanus hails from Alden sir!”
“Right,” Marcus-Antonius muttered a little amused since the sergeant was from Vinterfort which was parked in the middle of the desert. Kilometers from any substantial body of water. “Sergeant Tasius, good seeing you again. You’re a learned man yes?”
“I wouldn’t go that far sir!”
Eh.
“But you know your fish.”
“Yes sir! My mother hails from Tenor sire. That right there is a giant lake trout!”
Apparently.
Marcus-Antonius ears had started ringing. He waved the sergeant back and Tasius retreated two steps. “Decanus Pilatus, I was going to inquire on your letters afore the good sergeant intervened rather lively. I stand a little confused at this point.”
“Apologies sir!” Tasius boomed even livelier.
The Legatus grimaced and glared at the mirthful Domus, then at the shocked Issirs gathered at the market’s stands. He could see other types of produce were on display further inside.
“I can write a report sir,” Pilatus replied in a civilized manner.
“You’ll be promoted to Centurion of LID effective immediately,” Marcus-Antonius continued and heard murmurs coming from the old castle gates. The stone walls standing at five meters tall and covered in black moss. “You’ll have Tasius as your second in command.”
“Yes sir,” Pilatus saluted.
“Is Captain Nak coming up behind me?” Marcus-Antonius asked with a half-smirk.
“That’s him sir.”
“We’ll talk more a bit later Centurion Pilatus,” the Legatus assured him pleasantly, eyed warningly a grimacing Tasius so the latter would keep his mouth shut and turned around to speak with Eagle’s Nest local guards aging commander.
Emil Nak was over fifty, with thinning white hair at the conned top of his head and a narrow shaved face. The Issir officer had a mail shirt on over a gambeson, a sword strapped at his waist and hemp pants.
He looks discomforted in them Antonius thought.
“Legatus Merenda,” Nak started nervously, as they were just under a thousand veteran legionnaires behind the smiling Marcus-Antonius staring right back at him. “I attempted to speak with you in person but I was informed you were on a mission?”
“I discoursed briefly with the Lord of Forestfort,” Marcus-Antonius explained leaving it at that. “Given the opportunity Captain Nak, I must also offer apologies for occupying part of your road.”
“Well, we don’t have a lot visitors coming from Mudriver lately Legatus,” Nak replied and paused momentarily to glance at his two Issir aides. “You cleared much of the forest south of the road.”
“We might have to clear a bit more,” Antonius retorted, then shrugged his shoulders. “Open up the view to the lake captain. Air some of the fish odor away.”
Nak grimaced, then licked his lips slowly. “Is the Legion to stay then?”
“Until we recover and finish our scheduled training,” Antonius replied with a leer.
“It is not… it’s uncommon for Regia to train men in the King’s lands Legatus.” Nak noted in a non-confrontational manner. “May I enquire on the real reason for your… visit?”
“There’s no hidden agenda here. Part of the training requires a long recon by the whole outfit,” Marcus-Antonius said with a clear voice, the locals listening in to his explanation. “We have misjudged the marshes I’m afraid. It is embarrassing but also a good lesson. The lads got to use their legs captain.”
“That’s quite the mistake Legatus.”
“You err in order to learn dear Captain.”
“What… eh, is there something we can do to speed up your return?”
“A few things.”
Nak stood back with a grimace of discomfort. “What would they be… those things?”
“We need timber.”
“These are the king’s woods.”
“The King’s woods are beyond the plateau, to the west. This is part of Baron Eman’s domain.”
“The Baron is under the King,” Nak countered. “But trees will grow again I suppose. What else?”
This a seasoned officer.
“Supplies. You have grain stored? Salted pork, beef? Winter is nigh.”
“We have plenty of grain. It’s rotting in the warehouses,” Nak replied treading carefully. “Livestock is healthy and plentiful also. How will the Legion compensate us? You have a big host of men to feed here Legatus.”
“Thousands. One would call it another village, but we’ll say it’s an army for expediency.” Marcus-Antonius agreed. “We’ll need mounts or live animals as well. To draw the wagons.”
Nak rubbed his nape tiredly. “This sounds a lot like a raid Legatus.”
“No raider will ask as politely or in a similar manner,” Marcus-Antonius argued. “Nor will he offer his services in return.”
“Services?” Nak queried a little surprised.
“Where the Legion camps, the land is safe and its citizens protected,” Marcus-Antonius announced the well-used army dictum. Adding just to get it out of the way. “No shenanigans are allowed.”
“Legatus, you are aware that Kaltha is at war with the Khanate?” Nak retorted over the murmurs of the crowd. “There are Horselords in the capital.”
“Can you hold them off if they come here?” Marcus-Antonius asked calmly.
“This a huge front to defend. I could hold the castle for a while,” Nak finally replied, grimacing as it wasn’t well-received by the citizens listening to their exchange. “There are fields and mostly flatland west from here Legatus.”
“Let me see a detailed map of the area,” Marcus-Antonius said and tied his hands behind the back. “And I’ll show you a way to do it.”
“Are you…?” Nak looked equally worried and surprised. “…is Regia to assist Lord Anker?”
“You are getting political for a trivial reason, missing the moment. I’m the random touch of Luthos’ hand suddenly appearing to offer assistance.” Marcus-Antonius replied and now even the legionnaires were heard gasping in shock hearing his words. “Let Lucius and Anker work it out later captain Nak. For as long as we are here, the First Legion shall protect you if you wish it. You have Marcus-Antonius’ word.” Merenda finished in a deep passionate voice and then half-turned to look at Prefect Domus meaningfully, the vast majority of the merchants and locals present also beholding the Legatus’ frowning aide with awe.
“A Merenda’s word is like a divine bond,” the Prefect droned what they’d used in their not so distant youth whilst playing games of dice or fooling around with naughty maidens, when they were short in coin but epically eager. “It can be stretched but never broken.”
Eh, come on Domus!
Anyways.
All in all it is a rather nice moment, Marcus-Antonius thought.
Or as Lucan had famously recited mythical Tyranus’ retort to the giant Ecomenicus.
‘Alea jacta est. Dii, reliquos decernant.’
The die is cast. Let the gods decide the rest.
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> Most frivolous historians shall write in detail and at length about fabled sea battles and Praetor Maximus’ divine foresight. Don’t perceive my words in envy’s light. Far from it. Praise be to the hallowed ‘Liger Hominis Divinus’ for he is ever in our thoughts. Still they’ll sing their praises of Crimson Forest’s miracle, the Raven’s bloody revenge and the fiery rage of Onyx Wyvern.
>
> They won’t be wrong but they would also not be entirely truthful. Small unsung moments and actions dictate the overall picture and pave the road to greatness. Because despite all else and if we’re even remotely honest in our account of past events, then that fall of 194 NC the Khan was about to win the war, standing inconvenienced with the events back in Eplas but nowhere near as afflicted as the divided Jelin’s opposition gathering against him. So the vigilant and attentive military scholar -standing unafraid of correctness and recency bias- must admit that it was Marcus-Antonius’ risky personal gambit that changed history. Most people’s actions are determined by small in scope but deeply subjective and usually separate specific motives. Thirst of fame, greed of coin, a sense of adventure, true patriotism and even an alluring maiden’s favor.
>
> The Legatus of the First Legion engulfed all of the above and carved out his own legend grandiosely, venturing beyond sanity’s diktats, diplomacy’s red lines or later Imperial etiquette, as if he was already a famous actor on a theater’s stage replaying the life of our mythology’s greatest heroes long after his tale was written.
>
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> Caius-Metilus Plautus
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> Par Ocreis*
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> Life and deeds of the prodigious Marcus-Antonius Merenda.**
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> -A memoire-
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> (Circa 233?)
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> *Archaic Lorian for ‘A pair of boots’
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> **The Legatus posthumous biography was first published in Rida, then in Kaltha and finally Regia. It was translated and republished around 235 NC in Wetull under the title ‘Nya Vanya Maethor’ which is court Imperial for ‘My handsome soldier.’
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