Chapter 36: Settling the Border (1)
“Here is the head of the traitor Pompeyanus.”
Two days after the battle ended, the defeated soldiers brought me the severed head of their former commander.
To kill with their own hands a man once hailed as emperor and present it to me. I stared at Pompeyanus's lifeless face, touching it with a bewildered expression.
A man of talent that should have shone for the empire.
Properly utilized, he could have led our desperate tomorrows to victory. And here he lay dead.
I closed my eyes for a moment to mourn this exceptional foe. Our paths had diverged, but he too had been one of the empire's faithful eagles.
Without the gods' tragic jest, he might have been a comrade standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
I opened my eyes and looked at the defeated soldiers. They knelt on one knee, awaiting my judgment. After a pause, I commanded Boruman.
“Boruman, Battalion Commander!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Execute them all.”
“Pardon?”
Kill the surrendering soldiers who had brought the enemy's head? He seemed momentarily baffled by my order.
But I had no intention of revoking it. They had clearly sided with Pompeyanus.
To let them go unpunished after attempting to crown an emperor against Baccus would undermine military discipline.
Even if it meant leaving the border undefended due to shortages, I needed to hold these remnants accountable—to warn that no one would dare harbor vain ambitions again.
Any eagle dreaming of rebellion, be it legion commander or common soldier, would face the ax without exception!
By making this crystal clear to every legion, I intended to ensure no soldiers would easily side with ambitious generals.
“I ordered their execution.”
Boruman hesitated briefly before summoning soldiers. Only then did the surrendering men shout at me.
“Sir! We brought you the traitor's head! Execution for us? You should be rewarding us!”
“Sir!”
I waved them off dismissively, and they were dragged away. As Boruman oversaw the executions, Rikius approached me.
“Sir, executing them all will make it nearly impossible to fill the gaps in the 29th and 30th Legions later.”
“Of course it will. But far more terrifying is soldiers so readily joining their legion commander in mutiny.”
I spoke with a bitter expression. This wouldn't have been necessary if the incompetent Emperor Baccus hadn't been on the throne. But with him holding power, such drastic measures were essential. To keep the legions in check and focused on their duties, the aftermath demanded ruthlessness.
Personally, my heart leaned toward sparing them.
Yet the steel eagle duty-bound to protect the empire—the 16th Legion's commander, Ain—had to be a cold-blooded hero without blood or tears, not some ordinary man.
Playing the heartless hero, I realized the protagonists from my childhood tales hadn't led lives of joy and happiness. That hidden truth was our reality.
Even so, I'd come too far to regret this path and return home. I'd witnessed too many deaths, shouldered too heavy a burden.
I clapped Rikius on the shoulder, clasped my hands behind my back, and patrolled the camp. Despite quelling the rebellion that threatened the empire, my heart grew heavier.
Half a month later, after receiving our victory report, Baccus bestowed rewards upon me: 500 gold solitus, ten fine horses, fifty oxen, and more. Other legion commanders received similar honors. It was Baccus's lavish expenditure, a crude attempt to proclaim that loyalty to the empire brought its rewards.
But the real surprise wasn't the wealth—it was his appointment of the three legion commanders who had crushed the rebellion and integrated the weakened border provinces as governors. It was unprecedented, an unexpected promotion.
I celebrated my governorship with my comrades over a modest feast.
“Come on, let's have a hearty drink.”
I forced a cheerful grin, hoisting a bowl-sized cup high for my fellows.
“Sounds good.”
“To the empire's peace.”
“A toast to the legion's victory.”
Rubiot and Boruman raised their cups. Sharing drinks with old comrades washed away some of the battlefield's bitterness. Smiling, I said to them,
“This generous reward from our great Emperor Baccus—it shocked me more than I expected. As for the gold... why not distribute it to the families of the fallen and wounded?”
“But Governor, sir—that's a personal gift from the emperor. No soldier would begrudge you keeping it all.
Word is he's issuing new coins and cutting silver pay anyway. No need to share yours.”
Riti urged me to pocket it, concerned for my retirement after my frugal ways. A touching sentiment. But hoarding wealth meant little in this world. With the empire's fate uncertain tomorrow, what use was riches? Better to boost morale—it might buy us one more day alive.
I chuckled heartily.
“Appreciated, but I've no family to provide for. My love is gone, and my kin back home can fend for themselves—no need to save for them.
So why not share with these soldiers, who are like my own blood?”
“Still, having money versus not makes a big difference, sir.”
“It's fine. As governor, my stipend will be generous. The gold goes to the troops.”
“Understood.”
Riti wore a resigned look at my stubbornness.
I smirked and raised my cup again. With the wine flowing nicely, an empty seat caught my eye.
Our honorable and valiant cavalry commander Jarman. The young legion commander Cassius, who should have walked a glorious path.
And Magnus, my superior whose face now faded in memory. How I wished they were here.
As I drained my cup with a wry smile, Rikius noticed and asked,
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“The fallen comrades. Without them, we wouldn't be sharing this drink now.”
Boruman nodded at my words.
“They're free of burdens now. We still have to uphold the empire tomorrow, don't we?”
“Indeed.”
The sudden heavy turn sobered the mood.
I forced a smile, looking around at my comrades.
“So let's enjoy today. Our brothers in Valhalla would want that. To the empire and our honorable battles.”
“Cheers.”
We clinked cups amid laughter.
These were the only times to laugh. Otherwise, we fought coldly, watching subordinates and comrades die.
Hoping for a quiet spell, I brought the cup to my lips.
The governorship inauguration took place in Bellgorod, heart of the 29th Legion. On the appointed day, the emperor's Praetorian Guards and Senator Tersio arrived.
The senator bore the governorship commission, a shield symbolizing command over the military province, and a ceremonial sword encrusted with jewels.
As the Praetorians entered the city and rolled out a red carpet, Tersio—the emperor's envoy—paused midway.
I later learned it was custom to scatter flowers for imperial envoys.
A border soldier destined for centurion and retirement, how was I to know?
I eyed the awkwardly smiling senator. He waited a moment, tilted his head, then approached slowly.
Stopping three paces away, I knelt on one knee in respect to the emperor.
Up close, Tersio was younger than expected—a senator in his thirties, when most were over forty. Must be his noble blood.
Tersio unrolled the emperor's edict.
“Hearken, Commander of the 16th Legion, Ain. We deem the threat of Pompeyanus and his traitorous band quelled thanks to you and your loyal legion commanders uniting your wills.
Without your loyalty, the empire's order would have crumbled, and the citizens' suffering deepened. We hold your merits in high esteem. Today's empire endures by your hands. As emperor and first citizen, We express Our gratitude.
To Legion Commander Ain, who led by example in the empire's crisis, We grant the governorship of Bellgorod Province and authority as field army commander over all legions therein. New Governor Ain, raise your head.”
I did. Tersio folded the edict and approached with a cloak emblazoned with a red eagle.
“The emperor's symbol of the governorship, Governor.”
He draped it over my shoulders. The red eagle. I felt a weight heavier than before pressing down.
“And this ring symbolizes the governor's authority.”
I accepted the ring set with yellow amber. Finally, the sword emblematic of governors' power was placed in my hand.
Crafted of solid gold, it was priceless for its weight alone.
With all imperial gifts received, Tersio knelt to me.
“Rise now, proxy of His August Imperial Majesty.
You are granted privilege and authority in Bellgorod Province to kneel to no one save the emperor himself, Governor.”
Our roles had reversed.
I rose and slowly surveyed the surroundings, then raised the emperor's sword skyward.
The Praetorians knelt as one and shouted,
“Glory to the Governor of Bellgorod!”
Our soldiers thrust shields high in cheers.
“Huzzah!”
Amid the roar, Rubiot cried out,
“Respect to our esteemed new Governor!”
“The legion pays homage to the new red eagle!”
The soldiers knelt in unison.
I slowly raised the sword to them, then sheathed it at my waist.
“Thank you. But before I am the empire's governor, I am one of you eagles, sharing life and death. My beloved eagles—today's honor is forged from your blood and sweat. I will never forget that.”
“Ain! Ain! Ain!”
The soldiers chanted my name.
I was more at home as the Ain they called from the ranks than some lofty governor.
Didn't the great commanders of old remind themselves they were mere mortals, not heroes? I never wanted to forget that either.
Even a brilliant general like Pompeyanus fell to hubris. For an ordinary man like me, it went without saying.
I had to guard against arrogance as fiercely as any foe. Only that would safeguard my life on the field—and the empire's fate.
A position tolerating no single mistake.
From lowly centurion, I'd risen this far. Now even a frail, senescent empire leaned on me for its destiny.
So I must live vigilantly, not dreaming of heroism, but wary of myself.
I raised a hand in response to the soldiers' cheers.
(To be continued)