Chapter 20. Northward Advance (2)
The next day brought unrelenting sunlight pouring down. We marched swiftly along the national road, our spirits lighter than before. We spotted a few barbarians along the way, but paid them no mind. Even if they knew, it wouldn't change a thing.
Without Heigirt, we won't lose easily.
I was confident of that, and so were the legionaries. Looking back, we'd never tasted defeat except in clashes with that monster. As long as he wasn't involved.
With steely resolve, we pressed on silently through what was essentially enemy territory—the old borderlands.
The barbarians mounted almost no resistance to our sudden northward push. Every group we encountered fled on horseback without even pretending to fight. Clearly, our offensive had caught them off guard.
And logically, it would. Who could imagine a mere handful of troops launching a counterattack while the empire's heartland was under threat?
After three days of unopposed advance, we entered Sian, the old garrison we'd abandoned long ago.
"Is this our hometown?"
Rubiot, the first to enter, stared in disbelief.
I wore the same expression.
Everyone surveyed the ruined city with grim faces.
We'd set the fires during our escape, but the city itself couldn't have crumbled like that. The sturdy walls had collapsed, and even stone buildings that should have survived the blaze lay in rubble.
The three-story headquarters where legion commanders had handled reports and held officer meetings, the bathhouse where soldiers rested, the communal dining hall that fed hundreds—all reduced to ruins.
No trace remained of the thriving military city from just months before.
I walked down the main avenue, choked with debris.
In the city square adjoining the avenue, a few tall poles still stood. At their tips hung the heads of Callis—with a placard reading "Traitor" and his tongue lolling out—and several nameless warriors.
Callis. So you ended up dead after all.
I gazed at them for a moment, then called for Rikius.
"Rikius. These are men who died for us. Give them a proper burial."
"Yes, sir. But what about the ones beside him?"
"Treat them the same. They're the ones who went with Callis in the end, leaving him not alone. Considering what he gave us, they deserve the honor."
"Understood."
Rikius ordered soldiers to pull down the poles. He carefully placed the heads from the poles into the wooden box Riti the centurion had provided. I had them buried in a sunny spot.
Callis, the barbarian who kept faith with us.
I recalled his face with a hollow expression. He seemed to have died burdened by guilt. It left a bitter ache.
I'd hoped he'd find satisfaction in having done his best.
A sour taste lingered in my mouth.
Life made it so damn hard to choose without regrets.
As the legionaries repaired usable spots amid the ruins, Ershiang, on watch at the outskirts, came looking for me.
I hurried over at his word, and he pointed grimly toward the horizon.
"Commander Ain. The barbarians are here."
I stiffened at the sight of thousands forming a black mass. Among the enemy ranks fluttered legion standards we'd lost— the golden eagle of Creper's Mobile Field Army 3rd Legion and Alpinus's 12th Legion banner.
The honor of imperial comrades I'd once fought shoulder-to-shoulder with was being mocked in their hands. They were just unlucky, not fools deserving such ridicule. They'd fought their all for the empire.
I ground my teeth for a moment. Ershiang noticed and asked,
"Shall I sound the horns?"
"No. They won't charge right away. If they planned to, they'd have hit us with a night raid instead of showing themselves. They don't see us as easy prey."
Ershiang nodded at my words.
Anyone who'd fought our 16th Legion had no choice but to think that way. We'd fought fiercely despite overwhelming odds, refusing surrender to the end. Cassius had shown his spirit, and in the battle where the whole army was collapsing, we'd torn the enemy's wings like phoenixes reborn and survived.
And in Sian, in Aren, we'd crushed foes repeatedly, proving we weren't the weak ones.
"Instead, have two centuries on full alert."
Ershiang agreed. It was a bit risky, but necessary. The men needed proper rest to fight at full strength.
I decided to exploit the barbarians' wariness of us to the fullest.
The next morning, an envoy arrived from their side. It was Callis's younger brother, the man who'd once shown us favor. The youngest brother of the Red Fox chieftain—a middle-aged warrior who could pass for Callis's son by age.
His name was Killiet.
A key figure in the Red Fox tribe, confirmed by a decurion who'd traded with them.
Callis's brother. A strange feeling stirred in me.
Killiet halted his horse before the broken gate and eyed us coldly. He didn't even bother with the gesture signaling no hostility.
Still, he was clearly an envoy. As he dismounted, two decurions approached and frisked him. No weapons.
As Killiet approached me, Rikius stepped forward and drew a line with his military boot. A warning not to come closer. No reason to treat him well when he hadn't assumed the proper envoy posture.
"Don't cross that line."
Rikius said, his voice thick with barely concealed hostility.
Killiet scowled but stopped short of the line.
"I am Killiet, brother of the Red Fox chieftain. I stand here on behalf of my brother and the nearby chieftains."
"Speak your piece."
The tip of his boot brushed the line. Rikius's face darkened ominously. Try it again. I'll take your head right now.
The air crackled with killing intent. His hand hovered near his sword sheath.
Luckily, Killiet stopped there. He seemed to grasp that mouthing off in enemy territory could cost him his head.
"We made a deal with Heigirt. In exchange for parts of imperial territory, including this Sian, we promised not to let anyone advance north.
You've directly challenged that pact. Withdraw now, and out of respect for the empire, we'll let you go."
The bastard spouted utter nonsense.
The empire must look like shit to them after a few losses.
Heigirt was one thing, but the empire wouldn't be sneered at by petty border tribesmen.
I smirked and tossed a single coin at his feet.
Killiet gave a puzzled look.
"That's exactly what Heigirt's taken from us so far. Arrogant savage. No matter how battered the empire, it's no laughingstock for a lone tribal warrior like you.
You vermin divvy up imperial soil on your own and yap about it to my face? Hilarious joke. Fine, here's my notice: Pack up you and your pathetic rabble and get out beyond the imperial border right now.
Do that, and I won't report to His Majesty how you maggots slithered in."
Crunch.
Killiet ground his teeth loud enough to hear. He was pissed.
Still calmer than Ronad from yesterday. Age, probably. The middle-aged barbarian hadn't lost the composure time had granted him; he kept his envoy decorum.
"If you're bluffing now, you've picked the wrong foe. We know Sixtus fell too."
Fast intel. Meant Heigirt was still exchanging messengers with his base. That monster fretted over his rear. Frightening, sure.
But this barbarian—mere pawn in his game—and his words held no terror. I'd faced and beheaded countless border savages like him.
"Sixtus or Creper, none of my concern. They lost; we kept winning. You'll learn that when your vermin fall to me. Didn't you watch your kind betray and get their heads stylishly lopped off? You're no match."
"How dare you. Wasn't it your schemes?"
"Self-proclaimed allies scheming is justified, but punishing it isn't? You see the world in fun ways. Call it that, then.
Doesn't change that you're idiots. Who else but fools sharpen blades first only to lose their heads?"
His fists clenched tight. The grinding reached me. Hit a nerve? But you started the bullshit. I hurled more insults with a calm face.
"So crawl back to your holes if you want to live long. You'd offer your necks after honing blades—on the battlefield, you'd slit your own throats."
"Talk's over. Soon you'll see the world from poles, like traitor Callis. I'll watch your idiot faces then."
He turned away.
I called after the departing Killiet.
"Your dead brother was a warrior who kept his word. You oathbreakers are mere rats. So I promise:
You'll see the world from sewers, fitting for rat pups like you."
He vanished without retort, shoulders twitching slightly in anger.
As Killiet left, Rubiot clapped my shoulder.
"Your silver tongue's as sharp as ever. You spat right in his face. If I were him, I'd have drawn steel on the spot."
"Had to. Anyway, they're wary of us for sure. If they thought they'd crush us easy, no need for talk."
"Right. So it's decided?"
"Yeah. No backing out."
"No thought to parley?"
Rubiot asked.
"They killed Callis and trampled his honor. Oathbreaking rats. What faith to rebuild with them? Can't promise shit with untrustworthy scum."
"Fair point. They'll come at us soon anyway. Got plans?"
"Some. But I want a sure fight if possible. Need your thoughts."
"Got it. Calling the officers now."
As Rubiot left, I rose and paced the crumbled ramparts.
Dialogue would be ideal, but one mistake here meant we all died in this gamble. No room for variables.
So eliminate all dangerous foes.
Hope my choice is right.
I closed my eyes against the rising wind.
(To be continued)