The Land of the Eagles (3)
Ronad raised his hand lightly, and the cavalry following behind him formed up in a single file line toward the fortress. There were thousands of them, and just the sight was enough to make your flesh crawl.
After putting on this overwhelming display of force, he slowly urged his horse forward.
I am Ronad, son of the Thunder Tribe that annihilated the 16th Legion. Your legion commander has already been beheaded, and the Creper and Alpinus you trusted have been defeated. There's no army around here that can come to your aid. If there was, they'd already be in the afterlife.
He spoke in an arrogant tone.
But it wasn't a lie. Just as he said, Alpinus and Creper had been beaten, and Cassius was dead.
Even if you cling to this tiny fortress and resist, the tide is already decided. Emperor Anpianus will seize the throne with the power of our Thunder Tribe and forty other tribes.
The empire will soon be ours, and you'll all end up with your heads on pikes, making stupid faces. But we're generous. We'll even give you idiots a chance to live. Surrender. Take up arms for us. Then you'll stand shoulder to shoulder with us and walk the path of the victors.
He made a pretty convincing pitch for surrender. A nice mix of threats and carrots.
I stepped forward to the ramparts, and his gaze shifted to me.
Commander Rober. May I answer in your place?
Go ahead.
I bowed my head to Rober and addressed the bastard.
Listen up, you snot-nosed whelp. I've fought your father several times and lived. My head's still attached without ever kneeling to him—do you think I'd bend to threats from a punk like you?
Mentioning his father got to him; the kid, who had been coldly composed beyond his years, showed a flash of excitement.
You defeated loser—how dare you speak his name?
You nameless barbarian shit. Oh, Heigirt, was it? What, does that bastard have 'Your Majesty' tacked onto his name now?
You... you won't live to see tomorrow's sun.
His face flushed red as he threatened me.
Try it. It's laughable that a greenhorn like you thinks he can do what your old man couldn't.
Ronad fell back, and Rober said to me,
Didn't you provoke him a bit too much?
This is just right. If his young blood boils over and he pushes too hard, that's a blessing. Isn't it?
Rober shook his head like he couldn't do anything with me.
Can't argue with that mouth of yours. We're prepared to die anyway, so it doesn't matter.
He waved me off, as if telling me to get back to commanding.
I saluted him and returned to the soldiers.
Today might be our last. Brothers. We've held this place and fought in the name of the 16th Legion. No one might remember us after tomorrow, but I'll say this: it was an honor to fight alongside you all.
The soldiers chanted my name.
Ain! Ain!
I wish you all good fortune. Let's fight like the empire's eagles!
Victory and honor to the empire!
I nodded to them.
Suddenly, the ground shook with a thunderous roar, and a cloud of dust billowed up.
Waaaaah!
With their war cries, the barbarian horde surged toward the walls like a black tide. Ants—that's exactly what they looked like.
They dismounted nimbly upon reaching the base and hooked the single-log ladders they'd carried on their saddles over the walls. Crude things, easy to make, but unstable.
As soon as a ladder hooked on, Rikius swung the flat of his blade and smashed it hard. The one-legged ladder lost balance and toppled sideways instantly.
Not just the barbarian climbing it, but the ones nearby trying to hook theirs screamed as they were crushed beneath it.
But there was only one? No—hundreds hooked on in seconds. They swarmed up them like monkeys.
Rubiot! Left flank's breaking!
Got it. I'm on it.
Rubiot grabbed two soldiers amid the chaos and dashed to the other side of the wall. I swung my sword relentlessly, urging the men on.
Archers!
At my shout, Ershiang's century pulled back their bowstrings.
Whiiirrr.
Arrows arced over the walls and rained down on the barbarians' heads. Some screamed, but there were too many—no noticeable effect.
The situation was dire.
I split the skull of a barbarian clambering right in front of me.
Then, from the side, another fresh over the wall swung at my arm. No time to dodge. His blade sliced diagonally across my arm in one stroke.
Kkhh.
Luckily, before it could go deeper, Rikius charged in from my side and slit the bastard's throat.
Commander!
I'm fine. Help the right flank!
Yes, sir!
The young officer dashed off energetically to where he was needed.
I tore my tunic and roughly bandaged my gushing arm. The blood loss made my head spin.
Tasting iron in my mouth, I kept swinging. An hour, maybe?
Suddenly, the barbarians began retreating.
In a daze, I barely leaned on my sword like a crutch to stand on the wall.
S-Support troops, Commander. Auxiliaries have arrived.
Auxiliaries?
Rikius's words made me force my blurring vision toward the far side of the wall. Allied cavalry were hammering the enemy's flank.
The 11th Cavalry.
Barbarian auxiliaries attached to our legion.
The legion never trusted them, barring them from Sian except on leave, but they were loyal soldiers to the empire. Now, with defeat staring us down and no hope from the empire, they'd come charging to fight for us with their lives.
Lis, was it? The guy who'd seemed like a mild country bumpkin in the baths roared savagely as he hacked barbarian necks.
Ah.
I felt my throat tighten at their magnificent charge. The enemy the legion had failed against time and again, racking up defeats, was getting gloriously smashed by barbarian auxiliaries.
Could we really dismiss those great soldiers as mere auxiliaries?
Even our legionnaires watched their fight with uncharacteristic awe.
The 11th Cavalry pierced the enemy in one strike, then beelined straight for their command. Terrified, the barbarians scattered like ants.
I watched the cavalry proudly chase Ronad off, then blacked out and collapsed on the spot.
Four days later, as the pain from my stitched wound eased and the fever broke, I dragged myself up. On the ramparts, Rikius was on duty.
Commander. We were really worried.
If you were worried, you could've visited.
He grinned sheepishly at my jab.
Truth is, after every shift, I was so beat I crashed right away.
No excuses—good man!
I playfully smacked his head and asked about casualties. I'd asked Rober too, but he'd refused, saying sick men who fret too much heal slower.
Rikius spoke cautiously.
Thirty dead across the legion. Over fifty wounded.
Worse than I thought.
We were fighting from the walls, but we were short-handed to begin with.
It left a bitter taste. Guarding a fortress for three thousand with only eight hundred was doomed from the start.
At least the auxiliaries crashed in just before the barbarians could leverage their numbers and wear us down physically. Otherwise, we'd all be dead.
Not the worst outcome, all things considered.
Yeah, can't be helped. Any word on them?
He said no fresh intel yet. Makes sense—the thoroughly routed Ronad, running for his life, couldn't do much.
A loss like that would tank any legion's morale; for a tribal alliance, it'd kill their will to fight entirely.
Still, no room for complacency.
Behind Ronad were his father Heigirt and the pretender emperor Anpianus. Beating one small-time punk didn't mean we could celebrate against threats like them.
I encouraged Rikius to keep up the good work and headed to Rica's empty house. After all the sacrifices, the toll on body and soul—I missed her.
I'd played tough in front of the men, but I was just a regular guy. More experienced than them, sure, and I knew to hide the fear.
Rica.
Leaning against her door, still scented with her, I whispered the little bird's name.
Could I fight to the end as a soldier, turning my back coldly on you like I said? Like some fairy-tale hero?
Shamelessly, I prayed to her for the courage. To die as a man you could be proud of, one worthy of your love—not anyone else, but you.
A message has arrived.
Rober announced at the long-overdue officers' meeting. We all turned to him. A message? From where? We hoped the imperial government. Central forces, maybe?
But his words had nothing to do with the empire.
Eastern Libitus Governor Rabirando heard about things here and sent someone.
Rabirando—the civilian governor, right?
Disappointment rippled through us. Unlike military provinces, Eastern Libitus was civilian-run, with a governor from the civil side.
So it only maintained small provincial guards for law and order. No need for proper armies there.
Right, civilian governor. He heard about the crushing defeat from routed survivors crossing into his territory and sent someone for details.
Just wants the situation report, then he'll pack up and bolt home.
Rubiot sneered. Knight-born, his family had been branded traitors under the fourth-last emperor and suffered in the ranks.
He didn't like cushy nobles who rose easy—like governors or legion commanders. He'd softened on Cassius, but the grudge lingered.
Hey, I wasn't fond of the high-and-mighties either.
Soon, the governor's envoy arrived at Rober's summons.
A clean-cut young man, refined and noble-looking—like he'd never done a hard day's work. Son of some local bigwig?
Something about his cushy life irked me.
Gaius, envoy of Governor Rabirando.
Sit.
Rober gestured to a seat.
He nodded politely and sat. We eyed him with a mix of hostility and envy—he wasn't one of us brothers-in-arms.
As I told the gate sentry, His Excellency wants the border situation. He knows about the defeat, and that both central forces and border legions got smashed.
Right. Probably wonders why they haven't pushed into Eastern Libitus yet, how much fight we've got left, if they're hurting bad.
Spot on.
Rober stroked his beard.
Honestly, we don't know why they haven't advanced. Internal squabbles? Beats me—I'm not them.
Our strength? Pitiful, as you see. Only this many officers left. Theirs? Formidable. That's certain.
So the 16th Legion's message to our governor is 'recommend withdrawal'?
Withdrawal recommendation? Fire burned in my chest.
I raised my hand. Rober nodded.
Let me speak for them, envoy Gaius. It depends on what your governor decides.
On His Excellency's decision?
Conscript every able-bodied man who can hold a weapon now. Have the forges churn out arms nonstop, make the women sew uniforms.
With resolve like that, you won't just hand Eastern Libitus to the barbarians.
Easy to say. Eastern Libitus is open plains. If their forces are intact, as this centurion says, we'll be swept away like leaves—no time to fight or rest.
I snorted at the green envoy.
Envoy Gaius. We've crawled out of hell four times. The 16th Legion didn't flinch in the lion's jaws, and we won't tomorrow. Yet here you are, fresh off hearing our plight, talking retreat. What are we supposed to say to that?
Centurion, we're not soldiers.
So? Is defending the nation our duty alone?
I raised my voice.
The empire paid us stipends to guard the border, true. But national defense was every citizen's duty.
Conscription was efficient and traditional, making it seem like some folks' job—but it belonged to all imperial citizens.
I'm talking reality.
Such weak words. Unbelievable. Envoy Gaius, why do you think we're holding this place?
He fell silent.
Why we were here.
For the empire, ultimately. For them. Even if it was impossible.
Rober stared at Gaius with a hard expression.
We'd fought turning impossible into possible for that duty. No one could say impossible to our faces.
I softened my tone a bit.
I know you're civilians. But don't toss around retreat so lightly. Think of us, isolated on this harsh frontier, tougher than you could imagine.
I apologize.
Gaius bowed his head. Rober addressed him.
Tell your governor this: whatever he decides, the 16th Legion stays here, holding the border firm. Weak as we are, we'll fulfill our duty to the end. As imperial citizens.
Gaius's face flushed red.
Yeah. Talking flight probably embarrassed him now.
After Gaius left, Rober said to me,
Still, he's a governor's envoy. Weren't you a bit harsh? Thought you were treating a barbarian envoy.
That retreat talk pissed me off. They can think it, but not say it to our faces.
Fair enough. Back to your posts, everyone.
Rober dismissed us.
We'd abandoned hopes for that message. But chewing out Gaius reaffirmed our resolve.
We reminded ourselves: we were the legion the empire could rely on.
(To be continued)