Monster of the Drvina (2)
I left the capital after staying a fortnight and hurried back to Bellgorod. I worried what might have happened in the province while I was away.
In truth, I'd sent two battalions to support the neighboring province and conscripted two thousand men for the Praetorian Guard suppression on the home front, so the province's defenses couldn't possibly have been normal. Still, I trusted Rubiot to handle it somehow.
I rushed north with only the two thousand soldiers I'd brought from the province. The Atillca legion belonged to the home front, so I couldn't—and shouldn't—take them with me.
Along the imperial highway, local merchants and notables came out to ask what had become of the barbarians who'd invaded the capital.
I instructed the troops to answer with the rumors the Praetorian Guard had spread.
The dead couldn't speak, after all. I dumped the cost of my lies onto the traitors.
The people cursed them as Guard scum who'd stirred up chaos to seize power, just as expected. My face burned a little, but those bastards deserved it. They'd nearly brought the empire down, after all.
Once we crossed into the imperial heartland, an officer sent by Rubiot awaited us, having received word from the advance courier. He leaped from his horse and dropped to one knee.
"We're only a few days from Bellgorod. What's the rush?"
"Yes, sir. Barbarian chieftains have arrived in Bellgorod, waiting to see you. I rode hard to inform you."
"Barbarian chieftains?"
Something clicked in my mind. I'd permitted them markets and agreed to enlist those who wished to serve in the imperial army.
But before everything could be smoothly arranged, the Praetorian rebellion had pulled me away, leaving their promises unfulfilled.
Given the hot-blooded nature of barbarians, they'd clearly come to settle scores. At least they were talking instead of fighting—out of respect for my power.
Had I not demonstrated my strength, they'd have used this as an excuse to cross the river and raise hell.
Insolent bastards.
But brute force alone wouldn't work; the legions had been steadily weakening, and there were too many barbarians. This time, I needed a conciliatory approach.
"Understood."
I glanced back at the troops marching with me. With things like this, I needed to hurry home.
"Rikius!"
"Yes, sir."
"Take command of the men. I'll lead just the escort and head to Bellgorod first."
"Yes, sir."
Rikius saluted across his chest. I nodded and turned to Yusifer the chieftain.
"You'll come with me."
I didn't think he'd turn on me now, but leaving him with Rikius felt risky.
"As you command."
"Let's go."
I kicked my horse's flanks hard. With me, the governor, at the fore, over two hundred cavalry spurred ahead toward Bellgorod.
The Bellgorod province, like most frontier territories, was poor and barren. It might look fertile and rich to barbarians, but from the empire's view, it held little economic value.
Its population wasn't large relative to its size. Official tallies put it at eighty thousand, most clustered around the old legion base at Vina and Bellgorod itself.
The recent rebellion had worsened that concentration, as temporary border defenses drew people in.
'The refugee tents have multiplied.'
I grimaced at the sea of tents ringing the city as I approached the gates.
As governor, failing to assure their safety was undoubtedly my fault.
Still, with the funds from the emperor and Senate, building a fleet and fortifying the border forts and legions would solve it.
Convinced it would all work out, I passed through the city gates.
My arrival prompted trumpets from the walls. I rode the main avenue to the central square, where Rubiot and his officers waited to greet me.
"You've had a hard journey, sir."
"No, you've borne the real hardship. I heard about the barbarians. Where are they?"
"Waiting in the governor's mansion."
I nodded and headed there. As I entered, the chieftains—alerted by the trumpets—were already milling about outside.
"We see the governor of Bellgorod."
The barbarian chieftains knelt. I skipped the customary "rise."
'Sit there and stew a bit.'
I had no intention of chatting amiably with the ones who'd burdened poor Rubiot.
We lacked the strength for all-out war, so conciliation it was—but I could still show my displeasure.
I eyed the chieftains coldly.
"I hear you have words for me. What is it?"
I feigned ignorance, though I knew.
A burly middle-aged man spoke first: Bayak, head of the Freik tribe, strongest on the north bank.
"We've come because the empire hasn't honored its promises. Our tribes trusted those words, guarded the borders, and kept the peace—but got nothing in return.
Resentment festers. If you don't correct this, the discontented may cause trouble. We'll try to control them, but without the empire upholding its word, reining in our warriors grows hard. Please consider our position."
"Your position. Of course I'll keep my promises. As you chieftains know, it wasn't faithlessness on our part but unavoidable circumstances. Give me a little time, and I'll sort it swiftly."
"How long must we wait?"
"Not long. Don't take the empire's word lightly."
"If it sounded that way, forgive our rudeness."
Bayak was polite enough but slipped in the veiled threat. It spoke to their deep grievances. Yet he lacked the guts to challenge me outright. That much was clear.
I dismissed the chieftains and conferred with Rubiot in my office.
"The barbarians were louder than expected. Any changes?"
"Nothing major. The eastern provinces haven't quelled their barbarian unrest, so they've sensed an advantage."
"Eastern problems persist."
I sank into my chair. Unresolved eastern barbarians put us at a strategic disadvantage.
We faced Heigirt to the northwest and Bayak's northern horde. Eastern instability meant too heavy a burden.
And we'd already stripped two battalions for them.
I started resenting the eastern governors a bit.
"Can't send more troops. Tricky spot."
"We've done our part. The rest is on them."
I agreed with Rubiot.
I hoped the neighboring governors wrapped things up quickly.
The massive funds from the emperor and Senate proved a boon for Bellgorod. I spent freely to recruit legionaries.
Enlistees got quality food, quarters, and women. Money made it possible. I poured more into the fleet, doubling jobs for locals.
The sudden work boom drew merchants even to this frontier. They came for the loose coin, hauling home-front goods. I repaired roads linking to the core territories, letting them roam freely.
As the province revived under golden might, slaves trickled in from the heartland.
I freed those who volunteered for the legions; the rest went to the mines.
Two months later, my forces topped eight thousand—excluding the eastern battalions. Even counting barbarian auxiliaries, we neared full legion strength.
I deployed them along the border and floated newly built ships in pairs on the Drvina River. A safety net now cradled our shaky frontier.
But we couldn't fully seal off barbarian raids. Many north-bank tribes shared a loose symbiosis with us, yet others didn't—those who'd never crossed before.
They sent small raiding bands now and then, hitting villages and supply wagons. We bolstered weak points, but even in the empire's golden age, such plundering persisted.
Still, a show of force was needed. Crush the boldest, and the rest would watch their step.
I summoned Rubiot and ordered a one-off retaliatory strike north of the river. He gathered intel on north-bank tribes. Days later, we set targets and scope.
I'd inspect the reformed legions firsthand and awe the barbarians by leading personally.
Three thousand mobilized: two thousand legionaries, the rest south-bank barbarian auxiliaries.
To conceal the incursion, I shuttered markets two days prior, choking intel. We crossed under cover of night. Three thousand sufficed to smash several tribes at once.
"Bringing the boats in."
In the quiet night, we landed north without torches, silent. Prep was thorough, intel sealed. The barbarians hadn't spotted our raid.
I dismounted my white steed onto north-bank soil.
"Rikius."
"Yes, sir."
"First target is ten kilometers upriver. Take Yusifer and burn the village. Kill every last woman and child. No mercy. I'll follow with infantry to block retreat."
"No traces left."
Rikius replied briskly. This young officer, proud of the empire, burned with hatred for frontier raiders.
He valued honor and pride, but turned lion-like savage against barbarians.
I watched the cloth-wrapped cavalry depart, then ordered the infantry forward.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
The infantry's footfalls rang unnaturally loud. I followed the columned ranks into the dark woods. I'd felt it entering the Black Woods before: how could anyone live in such land?
No wonder they eyed imperial soil endlessly.
We crept into the unknown.
How much time passed?
Shouts, curses, screams erupted afar. Flickering flames glowed nearby.
'Success.'
I signaled officers to widen the line, compressing toward the village.
Barbarian hamlets sprawled over ten acres in clearings. To deter raids, they clear-cut ten more acres around, creating barren islands in the forest.
It barely slowed swift cavalry—especially at night.
I watched the village blaze leisurely. Fugitives occasionally fled, only to meet legionary steel. I ordered no quarter, age or sex no bar. Even children weren't children here; mercy would be the anomaly.
Spare them, and they'd grow vengeful foes. Why court that?
The empire was too frail for endless challenges.
I waited amid dying cries for the fight to end. Half an hour later, Rikius returned with barbarian cavalry, dragging thirty women. I'd ordered all dead; there must be reason.
"Those women?"
"Jeshuter wants them for his tribe."
Claiming his share?
My face hardened. Indulging him was easy, but discipline was iron. I'd commanded total slaughter.
Bending for one chieftain's greed invited more.
"Jeshuter. I ordered everything killed, man, woman, child. Defying me?"
Caught off-guard by my steel, Jeshuter bowed low.
"No, sir. Just my petty greed. I'll obey."
I pointed at the trembling women.
"Prove it. Cut their heads off yourself."
Harsh order, but necessary: a warning to fear me.
Jeshuter hesitated regretfully, then swung his axe, severing necks.
(To be continued)