A host of men spread out in a sea of metal and flesh, almost to the horizon. Three full strength armies, eighteen legions in all, were gathered on the grassy plains, the likes of which had not been seen in two generations; not since the construction of Hadrium’s wall.
At the front file, the elites of each legion stood with no fear in their hearts, the centurions tasked with leading them, however, felt little of the calm that their well-trained soldiers plied. Their units had the benefit of blind faith in their commanders, but the centurions had been given reason to doubt. Thus, a sheen of cold sweat only highlighted the creases of worry etched in their normally stoic faces. The only blessing was the cover of darkness, for it would have been shameful to weaken their men’s resolve with their worry.
The root of the officer’s unease could be seen pacing at the crest of the hill. Between the mad gesticulations and the whispers of shouted conversation carried on the warm breeze, the gathered Primus Pilus had never seen their stalwart generals so agitated. In tandem with the unearthly glow, of nearly solar proportions, washing down from beyond the hill, the irregularity of their current situation worked at the seasoned Centurions’ collective will.
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A proud figure stood just beyond the rise of the hill behind which the gathered troops of Hadrium stood ready to carry out the orders of the Empire. Hands clasped behind his back, his eyes hard and bereft of patience for the younger man before him, Imperial Legate Mercius Longinus addressed the man before him, not hiding his disdain, but too disciplined to openly castigate him in public. “I have faith in my men, as well, Andromos, but fighting an enemy you don’t know is a fool’s errand.”
A scornful smirk, however, was all that met the voiced concern of the addressing General.
“You always were the coward, Mercius. Perhaps you’ve won a few battles in your time, but circumstances always favored you. When have you snatched victory from the teeth of the hounds come to consume you? You know nothing of the honor of true victory.”
Mercius regarded the man before him briefly before voicing his reply. “A powerful man is a cautious man. I never faced overwhelming odds because I spent weeks, before a battle, whittling down my enemy. I always had the tactical advantage because I chose the ground on which to fight. The hounds never approached my camp, Andromos, because they knew I was their master. These are lessons you would do well to learn.”
“Idle boasts and excuses are all I hear,” scoffed the younger general, waving his hand dismissively. “Regardless of how you feel, Mercius, we’ve been sent here to siege this city, and your whining won’t change our orders.”
A third general, only vaguely aware of the heated argument beside him, stood rigid, staring at the “City” before him, unable to form words, let alone add to the conversation.
“Manus, stop gaping, and tell this fool that we should withdraw until further scouting has been completed,” Mercius implored.
“It couldn’t hurt to notify the senate of the irregularities here,” Manus haltingly offered in a hoarse whisper.
Andromos’ eyes spoke murder, “I’m surrounded by cowards! You can see as clearly as can I! There is no army housed in this city, and none scouted within a hundred leagues! Yet here you both crouch, with your tails between your legs! This city will fall before our forces uncontended!”
Manus seemed unaware of the insults flung at him, but Mercius regarded the younger officer, spouting vitriol, with measured breaths and a stoic face.
Before the generals stood towering parapets; walls enclosing a city of spires and majestic arches. The architecture was jarringly different from the domes and pillars of their own cities, but elegant in its own unique way. Despite the beauty of the city, it was the walls themselves that drew the attention of the pragmatically-minded Mercius.
“It is precisely because there is no army that I am ill at ease. A city of this size would not be undefended, yet do you see any guards posted upon its walls? Such impressive walls they are too. Breaching them will be a most arduous task, and we’ll be lucky if this doesn’t turn into a siege. Despite how impressive those walls are, do you see any place for workers or guards to be housed for patrol and maintenance? This, all of this, speaks of an unmeasured variable. The enemy that you don’t see is that which destroys you.”
“I am no fool, Mercius. Despite your concerns, the scouts have found no evidence of resistance. Our orders are to eradicate the invaders that occupy our land. You can be as nervous as you like, you old dog, but you will follow your orders, or the senate will hear of it.”
Mercius’ already dour face hardened to stone. “Manus, let us go organize our troops.”
Mercius, without waiting for Manus’ reply, turned his back on Andromos and strode toward the legions rank and filed at the base of the hill. Behind him the gleaming walls of opal stone and silver gates sunk beyond view.
Manus followed after a moment’s hesitation, but Andromos strode doggedly on Mercius’ heels. He clearly disliked the older commander for his arrogance, and he would not let the senior general’s strategic departure from their argument to address the gathered troops become a personal victory.
Despite the generals’ disagreements and internal disputes, they collectively knew that it could not be allowed to divide the legions, or affect their soldiers’ morale. Commanders of Hadrium knew to always show a united front before their legions. When addressing their soldiers, they were not men, they were Hadrium.
The call to action was not Mercius’ will, as he disagreed with the haste with which the armies of Hadrium had been dispatched, without proper intelligence. That was precisely why he knew he must be the first to speak to the gathered troops sprawling before him. Though he disagreed with the decision of the Senate, it was his duty to carry out his orders to the best of his ability.
”Our gathered legions, we have been called by our fellow countrymen to defend our lands. Though the enemy is unknown, our strength is not!”
Manus then stepped forward beside Mercius in support. Though the city before them was imposing, and had shaken him, he was still a seasoned general, and would not let his personal feelings deter him from his duty. Manus, the quaver in his voice markedly absent, continued where Mercius left off, “The legions have not been called in these numbers in generations, but the enemy dared to claim our lands for themselves. We are not here to shepherd them out this day.”
With animosity dripping from every word, Andromos spoke, “This day, we will eradicate these sons of goats and make the vultures of our lands sick with the taste of the enemy’s bloated corpses!”
At this, a few of the men in Andromos’ army gave clipped and guttural cries of agreement. Manus and Mercius’ legions, however, were noticeably quiet.
The three officers took a moment to share their gaze with their troops, and then each other. With a face of stone, and a heart of ash, Mercius’ voice joined the voices of the other Legatus Legionis, “FOR HADRIUM!”
In this, every legionnaire joined, every heart arrayed with a singularity of purpose, and their call echoed through the plains behind them. The orders were given to spread the ranks and form the shield walls, and as the ranks formed, the drum of pilum to scutum sounded in chorus as the legion moved forward as one.
Siege towers could be seen creeping along, in the distance, the engineers behind the flanks of the centuries moving them into position. In kind, catapults were being hauled by ropes behind their operators, and large piles of small boulders were being assembled at the hills’ apex.
The knoll behind which they had amassed allowed for a modicum of surprise, but the steep mound made purchase for the massive engines of war taxing, as well as slow. As there was no chance that the city was still unaware of their presence, after the booming call to war, the three generals thought it wise to separate their armies before cresting the hill, claiming two siege towers a piece as they readied their positions. The plan was to take the enemy from three sides.
Manus and Andromos’ gathered legions had already synched their commands, as they stayed in sight of one another on perpendicular walls. They would attack as one, while Mercius’ legions circled to the far wall, to spread the enemy too thin to abate their attack.
Though the legions acted as they had been trained, the less seasoned recruits gaped. It became clear to the first centurion of each legion, immediately, what had set their commanders on edge. The walls, which gleamed like polished marble, were taller than any wall in the empire of Hadrium or Craetus alike.
Those same walls also burned with a brilliant inner light; a nimbus, which encompassed the entire city. The gates of the opulent structure seemed to be made of pure silver, for no other metal could be polished to such resplendence.
It seemed unfathomable that such a place as this would only have come to the empire’s attention a mere two months past. These walls alone would have taken a generation or more to make a reality, to say nothing of the raw materials themselves necessary for such an undertaking. As much marble as made these walls would dig a new valley in the land, and the silver of the gates would empty the mines across a quarter of the empire. Despite their shock, not a single Legionnaire faltered in their march toward the monolithic walls which set the sky afire.
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Opposite the main attack force, Mercius watched his men maneuver slowly into position. The crack of boulder to wall had clearly marked the start of the battle, as both Manus and Andromos’ Legoni Ballistarium brought their respective siege engines to life. Just as Mercius finished passing orders down through his ranks, a sound as that of mountains tearing ripped the night asunder.
A giant plume of fire blossomed on the far side of the city. Clearly visible beyond the far wall, the heat of it blasted hot air across the plains and lit the night, as even the glow emanating from the city could not. It was then, that the screams of the dying rose in a piercing crescendo, to overpower even the thundering of boulders raining from the sky.
The wailing of thousands burdened the air, and the night reeked of charred flesh and viscera. It was clear that a massacre had ensued, but it was absolutely beyond Mercius as to what was its cause. So many screams resounded in his ears that they began twining together into a sickeningly discordant chorus.
It may have been unclear what was transpiring, but it was abundantly clear that the gods were against them this day. Regardless of the senate, or the Emperor himself, Mercius would not throw away his men’s lives. This was beyond any expectation Mercius had begun the battle with. He had known that there was an unseen viper coiled, waiting to strike, but who could have foreseen such unbridled destruction? Even Craetian fire couldn’t match the conflagration now licking at the sky, visible over the walls from the opposite side of the city.
That was precisely why there was not a hint of hesitation as Mercius ordered a full retreat. Should he be crucified as a coward upon his arrival in the capital city, then so be it.
Observing the roaring pyre reaching to the sky, which was surely causing untold losses to Manus’ legions, Mercius quickly formulated a plan. Addressing his Tribunus Laticlavius, Mercius spoke with a careful and controlled tone, “Splinter the legion. I want no more than half a century within 300 cubits of one another. Have the Equine Cohort scatter as well. Should such an attack as befell Manus strike us, we must minimize our losses. No matter what happens, we need to inform the senate of the new threat that looms on our border. They must know the danger present.”
Bathed in the flickering light of innumerable fires, the glint of seven metal clad figures, advancing like serpents toward his now scattering men, caught Mercius’ eye. Now aware of their strange pursuers, he wasted no more time watching, and hastened the retreat of his troops. Mercius split from the rest of his chain of command, likewise having issued similar orders, that no two officers of any substantial rank, be found together, ripe for picking. The best course of action Mercius could think to take was to limit the damage done should the nightmares that pursued them overtake them in the night.
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The pyre beyond the wall dwindled as the night wore on. The streaks of steely light soon faded into the distance, along with the men they chased. The screams, however, never lessened for a moment. Watching the gruesome scenes unfold below, the body of a beautiful young man, hooded in white, hung suspended above the chaos, accompanied by the muted buffet of wings. The slightly glowing pale eyes gazed off into the distance, seeing far more than any mere man would have been able. Not one of his enemies would escape his grasp this night, nor that of his master.
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Assiduus stood gazing out upon the city. The first messenger arrived in the dead of night, his urgent missive passing through the chain of command with the utmost speed. It had been decided that the news was dire enough to warrant an immediate call to council, and the Emperor was roused from his bed. After that night, no matter where he found himself, Assiduus’ eyes always wandered toward the great gates of the Western wall.
The news had been dire indeed. The senate had pushed for action, voicing the fears of the people, but Assiduus had been tentative in agreeing to military action. This ‘city’, appearing from the dust, represented an unknown threat, and its appearance left the Senate in disarray and the common citizens of Hadrium engaged in wild gossip.
Though Assiduus bore both the title of Princeps Senatus and Dominus Noster, the people of the empire were spooked, and a quick overturn of the senate’s wishes by him would have caused discord among many of the stronger noble houses. The empire’s current situation had become precarious, and thus so had its emperor’s.
The current situation demanded action, and yet Assiduus’ military intuition hinted that the nonpareil and unorthodox situation represented by this unknown threat was not something to engage lightly. Assiduus, left with little other choice by the senate, had sent an overwhelming force to lay down the problem, hoping that pure numbers would overwhelm any threat that might be mustered by this upstart of a nation that had dared to encroach on his lands. Still, his mind persisted in raising doubts, and there continued a niggling fear that the conflict would have unforeseen and dangerous repercussions.
He had been more right than he could have imagined. Not in the whole of Hadrium’s history had they faced a defeat like the one that had been dealt them, these two weeks gone.
Mercius’ runners had exhausted their horses, nigh unto death, in their mad trek to inform the capital of the gathered legions’ dire situation. Each time the runners’ horses had exhausted they had been exchanged for fresh ones, even if that meant conscripting a farmer’s plow horse.
They had spanned the breadth of the empire in record time, riding as hard as they could manage, and only dozing in their saddles when they could stay awake no longer. Yet, despite this feat, further news had been received from Andromos’ legion runners a mere handful of hours later, by foot no less!
Despite the emphatic reports of Mercius’ legionnaires that all their forces had faced nearly complete decimation, accompanied by furiously scrawled messages from officers accounting to the same, Andromos’ message had been fastidiously written out with a neat relaxed script, and he bore no report of losses. More unbelievably, however, Andromos continued on to cordially request a personal audience with his cousin, as well as permission to bring a retinue of officers to accompany him.
Andromos was one of Assiduus’ further removed cousins, and even despite the distance that removal allowed him to keep from the odious man, even the occasional company Assiduus was forced to keep with him stretched his patience to its limit. Overbearing was almost insufficient to describe the man.
The thought of a calm and subservient Andromos, as seemed to be the author of the message he had received, respectfully asking permission for anything, only raised his hackles. ‘Out of character’ didn’t even begin to describe such a change as was represented by the cleanly folded, well scripted, polite, and fastidiously sealed document now clutched in the Emperor’s hand.
Something was clearly off about the whole situation. Andromos’ legions had been on the other end of the empire, right alongside the other armies reported to have been lost, and yet, by all reports, they now plodded toward the city, not more than half a day’s march from where he stood. Only the fastest of Mercius’ cavalry had made it this far in the two week span, and yet an entire legion of infantryman lay right outside the gates of the capitol. Something was definitely off, and everything about the situation set Assiduus on edge. He couldn't seem to stop repeating his fears to himself, but made a mental effort to set his mind elsewhere.
Assiduus’ eyes again searched out the West gate, just as a knock announced another messenger waiting outside his chambers. “Dominus Noster, we have been notified that Dux Andromos and his officers are at the gates. There were also reports that a number of Dux Mercius’ officers were with them as well.”
A grim expression fixed itself on the Emperor’s face. He had not sent message back to Andromos granting his request for an audience, giving himself time to think through the situation at hand before taking action.
Putting aside his annoyance, the Emperor addressed the man before him, “Very well. Instruct the soldiers at the gates to form an escort. Andromos and his men are to be brought straight to my audience chambers.”
The messenger thumped his fist to his heart, in military salute, “Yes my emperor!”
Assiduus thumped his fist to his heart as well, returning the salute, and watched the former soldier stride off purposefully. It made him glad to know that he was surrounded by men of character. Assiduus had ascended to his prominence through an immaculate military career, and only abided the senate as far as he must.
This was precisely why Mercius was one of his closest confidants. Assiduus and Mercius both had families of distinguished military heritage, and had entered the legions as men of the equestrian cohort under the same Dux. They both shared a distaste for politics, as well as their senatorial duties. This coomonality of spirit led to them becoming fast friends, and trusted allies in the senatorial domain. Through the years, both men quickly rose to their own commands. It was only by a matter of house prestige and circumstance that Assiduus had been voted into rule by the senate and noit Mercius.
“Where are you my friend?” Assiduus queried aloud.
“If ever there was a soldier the empire needed now, it is you. Such a shame that that fool Andromos was the first to return,” Assiduus declared to his silent chambers.
Since his room did not deem to respond, Assiduus quit his musings and prepared himself for the somber business ahead.
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The guards at the door to the chamber announced Andromos and his officers, and before the men could enter, Assiduus caught something in the guard’s face that made his veins run cold. In the posture of both of his disciplined, stalwart, and seasoned guards was utter astonishment. As Andromos continued into the room, Assiduus understood why.
As Andromos strode in to the throne room, his officers followed him, escorting a number of what appeared to be, apparent by the military insignia on their uniforms, Mercius’ centurions, as well as Mercius’ second in command, bound with their wrists in the smalls of their backs. The ropes binding the captives corded at their biceps, forearms, and around the trunks of their bodies like harnesses, arresting any attempt they could make at slipping their bonds.
“What is this madness!?” cried Assiduus in outrage.
Andromos’ expression of unconcerned stoicism never wavered. “It is as it looks, my emperor. They are prisoners.”
“I can see that, you fool!” Assiduus hissed, as he seethed in rage.
“What possible reason could you have to take another general of the Empire’s men as prisoners?”
Andromos never so much as crooked an eyebrow, “Sadly, my emperor, because their lives depend on our conference today.”
“This is outrageous! You are deserters then?”
Before their emperor so much as raised a hand, there was a circle of armored guards around both he and the officers addressing him.
“Were I you, I’d be very careful how I proceeded, Andromos.”
With spear tips, not so gently, dimpling his skin in any number of places, Andromos proceeded without comment, “I would be happy to die for my cause, cousin, but I implore you to hear our message before you do anything drastic. We have come to bring a message of peace from the kingdom of Tolden.”
The emperor’s face, though chill, took on an inquisitive cast. “I have never heard of such a place.”
It seemed that Andromos had been expecting the reply, and immediately answered the indirect query. “Tolden has existed as a nation for some time, but the city has only just been built, some two and a half months ago. Should you allow me, I will explain in detail about my hosts. I have also been bidden to extend a treaty of abiding peace, which has been fashioned to enrich the lives of all involved.
Although it truly irked him to cede even a hair to this worm, it was clear that it would be a mistake for Assiduus not to learn as much as he could about this threat apparent. Despite how beyond reason the statements of the refuse heap of a man before him sounded, Assiduus felt intuitively that the stranger behind his cousin’s face was incapable of deception. Regardless of who he once may have been, the ‘man’ that now stood before him, in utter repose, was not Valerius Andromos.
The Emperor regarded the stranger before him, now with the tact of a general probing a foe, “Who are you?”
“Why, my emperor, I am the man you once knew as Valerius Andromos. I have, however, been gifted by my new benefactors with a new name. I am, simply, Andromodeus.”
The unimportant details could wait. There were more pressing questions looming unasked, the most important of which was ‘what this unknown kingdom, risen from absence, to insurmountable power, sought of them’.
“What would your ‘new lords’ have of us?”
“Our accord is as thus, Andromodeus continued placidly: Any kingdom that willingly accepts us into their lands will be given new technologies to ease labors, gifted with health and prosperity, and be brought the eternal blessings of the All-Mother Torla. Any army that attacks us will be destroyed, and a percentage of their forces will be enlisted into Tolden’s honor guard. We do not seek to force ourselves upon any nation against their will. We seek only to send councilors and dignitaries from Tolden to all lands, to teach them of our way of life. Know that we do not seek to rule any land, and will leave intact the autonomy of any that wish to accept what we offer. Should you wish it, this is the same offer that we extend to you today. For you, though, we have one demand.”
Assiduus went rigid. This ‘Andromodeus’ had, before now, fastidiously avoided making any demands. The blood in his veins turned, in an instant, from ice to blazing fire.
“I am aware that I am in no position to deny the requests of the nation that just destroyed, or confiscated, sixteen of my legions. I am even amenable to the quest for a superior culture, as that is the way of Hadrium. Regardless of whatever terms I may agree to, however, there is one thing I can assure you, ‘Andromodeus’; you will not leave this room alive this day.”
Andromodeus, as calm as the grave, answered simply, “Whether I leave this place dead or alive is of no concern to me, you can even think of it as an exchange my patrons would willingly make with you.”
The disregard that this alien creature before him showed for his survival was disquieting, to say the least. It was the implication that his words carried, however, that made Assiduus’ stomach clench in anticipation.
“Precisely whose life am I supposed to be trading, you viper?”
Andromodeus, for the first time since arriving, showed the first flicker of human emotion. Contrary to reason, however, it only proved to further alarm Assiduus, as fervor was not something his cousin had ever been prone to. Such a devoted and uncompromising look of certainty as was plastered on this monster’s face did not belong on any creature 'of this world.
Andromodeus, madness glinting in his eyes, nearly cackled in delight, ”This day, regardless of any other conditions, my dear emperor, the house of Mercius Longinus shall be no more.”