King's Bloodline (2)

I thrust the legion standard high and bellowed.

"Legion, halt!"

"Cease pursuit!"

The officers hurriedly relayed my orders.

But our soldiers' formation was already in disarray.

As if they'd been waiting for this moment, a fresh wave of barbarian cavalry surged from our left flank. The enemy riders who'd struck our right wing earlier wheeled around for another pass. It was the worst crisis imaginable, hitting us before we could reform our lines.

I slammed the legion standard into the ground, drew my sword, and shouted.

"Face the enemy head-on and hold! The legion's wall is unbreakable. Trust your brothers!"

The next instant, the barbarian cavalry crashed into the legion.

Soldiers' heads split open like bean curd. Grayish brain matter sprayed in chunks, and one man with his skull exposed toppled over with a dumbstruck look. The fallen were trampled under warhorses' hooves, reduced in moments to unrecognizable lumps of meat.

Whoosh!

I dodged a charging barbarian's sword by dropping low and slashed with all my might at his horse's fetlock. The beast screamed as its rider flew forward, smashing his head into the dirt. Instant death.

The next rider bore down on me, but an arrow from Ershiang saved my skin. Gaps tore open across the legion's front line; hundreds were crushed. The enemy cavalry punched through our ranks and galloped toward the distant woods. They'd wheel back soon enough.

I ground my teeth.

Having been mauled once by cavalry, the legion couldn't regain its composure. The barbarians who'd retreated at the flute's signal charged again with war cries. The tide had turned against us once more.

But we still had one card left to play.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

I beat the drum to summon the reserves—the 11th Cavalry, who up to now had hung back in the rear, awaiting only the signal to charge.

I'd planned to hold that final trump until the enemy was exhausted, but now wasn't the time for games.

We had to win first.

I gripped Rikius's shoulder—he had blood trickling down one side of his face—and said,

"Hold on just a bit longer. The reserves are coming."

"Yes, sir."

I hoisted the legion standard and thrust it skyward with all my strength.

"The 16th Legion will never break! Hold the line!"

The ragged, butter-sliced defensive line—full of gaps—was swarmed again by barbarian infantry. This time, enemies poured into the breaches, turning the fight into brutal close-quarters chaos. We cut them down, but our losses mounted. Centuria banners wavered everywhere; shields clattered to the earth.

I clenched my jaw and waited for the reserves.

Reserves! Reserves! Where the hell are you?!

Despite my desperate wait, the reserves were late. Not content with infantry, enemy cavalry now massed on our flanks.

One more hammering from them, and we'd be annihilated. The thunder of barbarian hooves shook the ground again.

That very moment!

"The Empire needs us! Crush the foe!"

Rikius and his cavalry erupted with a roar, bursting from behind the woods. The 11th split into two wings and thundered into the enemy cavalry's flanks.

The enemy hesitated at the sight of our horsemen—their garb resembled the barbarians', sowing confusion about friend or foe.

But that hesitation was fatal. Even a swift response couldn't have saved them from our speed advantage; dallying made it a rout.

Rikius's cavalry smashed the enemy riders in seconds. Heads flew as they charged, swinging swords like scythes harvesting fruit.

"It's Rikius! Raise the standard high! We have the victory!"

I rallied the men, drew my sword, and plunged into the melee myself.

Blades clashed; blood sprayed.

I faced a nameless barbarian who'd just slain one of my men—no front teeth, just two gaps in his grin. Our swords met; I slid mine upward in a fluid twist. He froze, uncomprehending, as my hilt-guard caught his throat and severed it clean.

I kicked the idiot's corpse aside.

"Yaaah!"

In that split second, another slashed at my shoulder. My armor blunted the worst, but it felt like the blade bit to the bone. Instead of parrying, I booted him and drove my sword into his gut.

As I dealt with him, another loomed behind me, sword raised high. Rikius hurled a javelin and dropped him just in time.

I wiped the blood splatter from my face.

The desperate bloodbath didn't last. With the enemy cavalry crushed, Rikius charged to the center; their infantry crumbled soon after.

We roared as one and pursued. They had nothing left.

Enemy bodies piled in heaps.

Brikin.

I thought of the foe who'd shown such terrifying command.

He must have known about our cavalry—why ignore them in his plans?

Perhaps he'd spotted them out of sight and bet on finishing us before they intervened.

And I couldn't mock that as folly. We'd all nearly lost our heads.

Standing amid the corpse-strewn field, I raised the legion standard high.

"The 16th Legion is victorious! Eagles of the Empire, raise your proud voices!"

"Hoorah! Ain! Ain! Empire! Empire! The Empire's legion!"

Amid the soldiers' cheers, I heard faint groans of the wounded.

I lowered the standard and ordered Rikius to tend them.

As I sought a medic for my shoulder, a voice called from amid the bodies.

It was a man with half his head caved in, teetering on death's edge.

He said to me,

"Commander... I fought well, didn't I?"

I saw the spear in his hand.

Yeah. The recruits had done their part today.

I took his hand and told him he'd been a warrior without shame, a true legionary of the Empire.

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smiled faintly.

"Thank you. I lived without disgrace to the name Maximus you gave me. Commander... today I die a freeman. As you said, even one day lived with purpose... is a happy life."

"Maximus."

Only then did I recall his name.

The warmth in his hand faded.

"Thank you."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

His breath stopped.

"Maximus."

I bit my lip. The words I'd tossed to the slaves weren't meant so profoundly—just a nudge to motivate them into our ranks.

Yet Maximus had taken them to heart and lived by them.

Shame mingled with regret for the slave I'd named.

"I'm the grateful one. For having a man like you guard my back. Here and now, I swear by your name, Maximus: no matter my station, those who seek freedom shall have it."

I knelt long before Maximus's cooling corpse, holding his hand.

The pursuit of Brikin fell to the 11th Cavalry—more than enough for a shattered foe. After half a day's chase, Rikius reported that Brikin had holed up in a clearing ringed by dense woods.

We marched at once.

Soon we reached the clearing's edge. Unlike before, Brikin's face was ashen.

I advanced under a white flag.

Brikin said,

"You want to talk?"

"Yes."

I cut straight to it.

Brikin pondered, then spoke.

"Terms? You mean the price for sparing me and all our allied tribes."

"Your father Heigirt's direct kin—all of them."

His face twisted uncomfortably at my reply.

"That's impossible. Not just because they're family. My four sisters are married off; my two brothers went with Father to the Empire. Here, it's just me, my son, my daughter, and two nieces."

"That'll suffice."

His expression grew conflicted.

"Weren't you set on exterminating our tribe and taking our whole line?"

"I was. But we've bled too much getting here. We could wipe you out, but then your father's army wouldn't let us be—hostages or not.

Realistically, taking a few family members is all we can hope for."

"Wiser than I expected, Ain. I knew you were brave, but sagacious too. You've surprised me again."

"Those who survive long on the battlefield grow cunning. So, your answer?"

Brikin stroked his horse's mane. Complex emotions swirled in his eyes.

"Father entrusted me with our tribesmen and allies' lives. That's a duty I must uphold, no matter the cost. If I can fulfill it, your terms are cheap. I accept."

Brikin dismounted nimbly and called for his son, daughter, and nieces. Tribe warriors emerged and knelt before them. Hundreds, thousands of survivors wailed, begging him not to go.

A hero.

A man with the charisma to captivate souls.

Brikin was a giant among his people.

I turned from the enemy's melodrama.

"Rikius. Escort Brikin and his family with respect when they come. No harm to them."

"Yes, sir."

A few centurions protested my decision.

"Commander Ain, those are our blood foes. With extermination in reach, taking hostages and withdrawing? Such a waste."

"I agree. But one brother's life outweighs ten of theirs. Say we annihilate them in the Black Forest and perish gloriously—what changes? For the Empire, endure."

I patted their shoulders and cupped my face in my hands.

Faces of the dead flashed by, their proud backs as they fell. After such sacrifice, this meager gain left me pathetic, loathsome.

"I'm thirsty."

Brikin's daughter, walking beside me, stared me down with her demand. Soldiers ground their teeth at the impudent girl.

But I called Rikius for water.

"Give her some."

Even amid hostile legionaries, Brikin's daughter didn't cower. She carried herself with the tribe's pride, voicing requests with direct eye contact.

As if it honored her father and grandfather.

Like a lion's cub, she acted the part. Her young son and nieces did not.

They shrank from the legionaries' enmity, mumbling and glancing nervously when speaking.

"Your daughter outshines your son."

Brikin gave a wry smile.

"My son's just young. Not yet ripe for such judgments. Remember: my children and nieces carry their father's blood. We're lions' offspring."

"So you say. Mind if I ask something?"

"Hostages have no right to refuse. Ask."

"You're Heigirt's eldest. Captured, your standing weakens—never worried about that?"

He chuckled dryly.

"Born royal, crowned in expectation. Nothing uglier than a prince who saves himself over his people. Better offer my neck to shield them—that's a prince's duty."

"Stirring words, if I were your tribesman."

"Just truth. Don't your Empire's rulers act so?"

I recalled imperial governors and officials at my words—prioritizing hides and hoards before foes.

I smiled bitterly.

"Making the Empire seem barbaric. You truly are formidable."

"You're the impressive one. I schemed meticulously to break your legion: chose the field carefully, timed our assault perfectly. Yet you held with mere command. What gives your men faith beyond life?"

"Trust. I've always stood with them in the thick of it. That's all."

"The difference between you and the imperial commanders we faced."

I didn't reply.

Retracing a day's march, countless warhorses blocked our path—soldiers sent by Heigirt.

They nocked arrows, facing us down.

In the tense standoff, one warrior stepped forward.

"The general asks: have you ravaged the king's tribe?"

I brought Brikin forward. Murmurs rippled through their ranks.

"Daring to capture the prince."

They seethed amid the unrest.

I shouted at the enemy, sword at my side.

"We hold Brikin, his son and daughter, and his nieces. Your precious tribe lives—thanks to Brikin choosing captivity. Block us, though, and he won't save even his neck. He'll roll headless with his children and nieces."

"Fine treachery in the Empire's name!"

"Yes, treacherous. But not your place to say. You sowed plots to make allies stab each other, slew sworn oath-keepers. 'Treacherous' from your lips? Flattery, almost."

"What of the prince?"

"We head over the border. Cross it, and your prince returns."

"His children and nieces?"

"Depends on your sincerity. Clear the path."

I spoke calmly.

The barbarians wavered. Heigirt had surely ordered annihilation; they'd planned it.

But we'd upended expectations, charging recklessly into the Black Forest for an improbable win—their calculations failed.

Heigirt's heir and kin in our grasp. Easier if we'd wiped the tribe—but we hadn't.

Conflict plain on their faces.

In their hesitation, Griham strode forth—Heigirt's right hand, a giant over two meters tall.

Dismounted, his eyes nearly met mine on horseback.

The imposing brute said,

"Fine. We'll let you pass. But remember one thing."

"What?"

"I've memorized you. Someday you'll face my axe—and that day ends your life. Heed it."

"Noted. A warning from me?"

His brow twitched.

"I won't spare you either. Our battlefield meeting is your funeral. Keep death coins handy."

He slammed his axe—thicker than my forearm—into the earth. Arm like a man's thigh, he pointed to the woods beyond, voice cold and low.

"Go."

I ignored the raw killing intent and tensed my core.

"Legion! March. Show these barbarians our courage."

We gripped shields and swords with flair, striding through their ranks.

They could've turned it bloody ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on a whim, but we marched as on a plain, eyes forward.

The enemy glared murderously.

"Rikius! Sing the triumphal hymn!"

I squared my shoulders theatrically and commanded.

The Empire's anthem rang out; their faces chilled further.

We marched the Black Forest under barbarian escort. Foes at our backs, yet no anxiety, no fear.

Only thus could we honor the dead, the nameless like Maximus, who hadn't flinched before the enemy.

Three full days we trekked out. Blue mists cleared; sunlight bathed us. Relief at survival mingled with awe—we'd achieved the impossible.

Struck Heigirt's heart, captured his son, repelled much of his army. A half-legion's feat?

We could take pride.

Not even a golden age legion could surpass us.

I scanned the men steadily, raising the standard high.

"The 16th Legion is the Empire's strongest! We've proven it."

Soldiers thumped shields in silence.

I nodded.

Had them fetch Brikin, who'd ridden with us.

He'd watched our legion closely, emotions tangled.

I spoke of freedom; he smiled wryly.

"Hearing 'freedom' with my children and nieces left behind... bittersweet. But thanks for keeping your word, Legion Commander Ain."

"Not commander yet."

He shook his head.

"Soon you will be. Or more. Ultimately, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Empire's last bastion—our greatest foe."

"Overpraise."

"Just fact. You and your men: brave, bold. Core of the imperial army, without doubt."

"You're a fearsome monster too. Learned Father's shadow hides one like you. When his reign ends, we may face worse."

"True. Still, I like you. Were you not Empire-loyal, I'd welcome you as subordinate anytime, Ain."

"Impossible, even if the Empire falls. Easier to hang my head from a pike."

"Fair. Stay healthy till we meet on the field again—you and the 16th."

He wheeled his horse and vanished slowly into the woods. I had his daughter brought.

She stared after her father, then said,

"You're a fool. To Father or Grandfather, we're worthless. You'll be attacked soon. Should've kept him instead."

"Of course. But Griham wouldn't allow taking your father to Belanga."

"True. So, dragging me there for what?"

She snapped pertly.

"I'll confine you, your siblings, and cousins in Belanga under guard. Royals matter, however little to your kin. They won't trade a city for your heads."

"Empire-style villainy."

"Soldier's thinking. Secures a safe supply base to face your father and Griham."

"Father's soft, but Uncle Griham's different. You'll die on his axe."

"Maybe. If he's lucky. Rikius!"

"Yes."

"Protect this spirited girl and the rest well. No rudeness, no beatings. Treat as your own children."

"Understood."

I whirled my cloak and turned from Brikin's daughter. One crisis averted, but mighty foes remained: Heigirt's arm Griham, and Brikin's dread prowess. Could we prevail?

For our fallen comrades' shares, we had no choice but victory. I pressed fist to chest.

(To be continued)