The Wing-Clipped Eagle (2)
When I reached the watchtower, one of the soldiers on duty there saluted.
"Commander. The battalion commander is here."
"Magnus?"
I was a bit surprised. The battalion commander, known as a legend among the commoner ranks, took great pride in his status and moved with deliberate weight. There was no need for him to climb all the way up here just to inspect the camp.
I adjusted my internal assessment of him slightly more favorably and ascended to the top of the tower.
"Hey, Ain."
"Battalion Commander. I didn't expect to find you up here."
"Can't have the men slaving away while I slack off. Anything unusual on your rounds?"
"No major issues."
"Good. As the greenhorn legion commander said, the time before reinforcements arrive is the most dangerous. Maybe Anpianus is more incompetent than we thought."
"Or maybe the emperor's sickness blinded him."
I chimed in agreement with the battalion commander's words.
Talking with Magnus eased some of the pent-up emotions I'd been carrying. I'd only been thinking of my own position, but he must have had his reasons too.
Magnus leaned against the parapet with a smile.
After standing there with him for a few minutes, overlooking the camp, we were about to head down when a reddish glow of torches suddenly flickered into view in the distance.
Then the lights multiplied—from one to ten, ten to a hundred. They approached silently, soon becoming too numerous to count.
"Friendlies?"
"No. Creper's mobile field army isn't due for two days, and Alpinus's legion arrives tomorrow afternoon. You know that."
I hadn't asked out of ignorance. The sheer number of lights was simply disconcerting.
Magnus glared at the lights for a moment before calling over some soldiers.
"Report the situation to the legion commander and all battalion commanders right now. Tell the duty chief centurion to sound the drums."
"Yes, sir."
As the soldiers scattered to their tasks, Magnus grew grave.
"That's more than just Anpianus's forces. He's brought in barbarians."
"That son of a bitch."
I spat the curse. Up until now, there had been an unwritten rule even in the empire's civil wars.
No dragging barbarians into fights between imperial citizens, no matter the circumstances. That principle had held, preventing barbarians from carving off imperial territory amid the chaos—they'd gained nothing from it.
But he'd broken it. The man who claimed he would topple the incompetent Baccus and establish a new order had shattered long-standing custom the moment he felt outnumbered.
"This fight just got harder. With barbarians in the mix, their cavalry will overwhelm us."
"I didn't think it'd be easy, but this is truly dangerous."
"Unfortunately, we're not the gleaming legions of the Golden Age. Still, we'll do our best to the end."
Magnus said.
Even a Golden Age legion couldn't have faced them head-on. The enemy would have their own legions, plus overwhelming cavalry.
"I'll go rally my men."
"Do that."
I saluted Magnus and descended the watchtower.
Rikius looked worried. I wanted to tell him not to fret, but my own face was set hard.
This was a battle with no path to victory.
In the end, Anpianus didn't attack the camp right away. After showing off his might, he sent an envoy.
In simple terms, he offered surrender.
From his perspective, coaxing our legion without bloodshed was the biggest win. Two legions instead of one would make controlling the barbarians easier, and he'd have less merit to divvy up.
But our legion had sworn loyalty to the imperial banner, and Legion Commander Cassius wasn't even considering surrender.
Even if we were a ragtag, under-equipped, subpar legion, the men believed without doubt that they were the empire's guardians.
That was our pride and honor, forged on the front lines defending the empire. There was no talking with rebels who'd allied with barbarians.
Cassius heard the envoy out politely before refusing in a few curt words.
"Tell Anpianus to crawl back into his mother's womb."
The envoy's face flushed crimson at the insult. He styled himself emperor, after all—a subordinate couldn't help but rage.
The man huffed off, muttering a third-rate bandit threat: "You'll regret this," before being chased from the camp.
Once the envoy left, we tightened our formations for the coming battle. Better than an open-field clash, at least.
The camp's log walls, crude as they were, made for decent barricades.
I stood shield-to-shield with my men, savoring the eerie calm before the storm. Distant war cries echoed—barbarians or legionaries, impossible to tell.
"Victory belongs to justice! The incompetent Baccus will fall, and the empire will embrace a new order!"
One foe approached near the camp, bellowing. Magnus found it ridiculous and ordered an archer to startle him.
Night faded, dawn's sun rose, and Anpianus's army advanced slowly. In the dark, we hadn't grasped their full strength—it exceeded imagination.
The enemy numbered at least twenty thousand, shrouded no longer. Cavalry blackened the plains. Thousands of infantry in perfect order. Facing them head-on terrified.
"This won't be easy. Rikius!"
"Yes."
"Keep an eye on Buck's men. The rookies worry me most."
"Understood."
Rikius nodded lightly and vanished into the ranks. My heart pounded with the drums as I gripped my sword tighter.
"Waaaaah!"
They hit arrow range, charging with roars. A black-haired barbarian stuck to the palisade first, hurling a hand axe.
I twisted my shield to deflect it, but my arm stung.
And you, you bastard—daring to target me?
I slashed the axe handle embedded in my shield. The wooden chunk flew down, cracking an nameless barbarian warrior's skull.
"Loose!"
The rear archers drew and fired as one. Arrows whistled menacingly, raining on the enemy.
"Aaaagh!"
Barbarians screamed, arrows piercing eyes, legs, arms. Most blocked with shields, but it had effect.
"Ladders!"
Deflecting axes and crude arrows, Decurion Cleitus bellowed.
Looking closely, makeshift wooden ladders poked up amid the barbarians.
"Stop them climbing!"
I roared at the men and sprinted to the nearest ladder. Maybe my rooster-plumed helmet drew fire—arrows flew thick at me.
I consciously angled my shield, but one slipped through, embedding in my left shoulder.
Ignoring the pain, I beheaded a barbarian clambering over the palisade.
Scarlet blood sprayed into the air.
"Commander!"
Cleitus knocked aside a spear thrusting at my side.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
I drove my blade into another barbarian's skull, catching my breath.
We fought tooth-and-nail for nearly an hour. Finally, the enemy pulled back to regroup.
Our resistance fiercer than expected, or perhaps barbarian chieftains unhappy with command urged retreat.
Either way, a godsend for us.
In that short time, four hundred men lay dead.
One in ten of our total. No rout, but losing a tenth was grave.
Even rookie Legion Commander Cassius showed worry over defeat.
This battle, win or lose, was the empire's loss. Defenses thinning on the border—cannibalizing our own.
"Ha."
"Commander. You're safe."
"I've seen a hundred battles. Not dying after one hour. How's Buck's squad?"
Rikius approached, so I checked on the newbies.
He grimaced bitterly.
"All dead."
"I see."
It was always thus. Battlefields demanded rookies' blood over veterans'.
The uninitiated paid with life to learn war's truths—theirs or comrades'.
"Will we lose this fight?"
"Think that, and we will. Hold till afternoon—Alpinus's army arrives."
"Yes."
Rikius seemed bolstered.
But I knew my words rang hollow. A legion drained in one fight couldn't endure another.
I swept back sweat-matted hair and slumped on the ground.
Soon, soldiers shouted, pointing outside.
Anpianus's new envoy appeared—a barbarian, unlike the first.
A long-ponytailed man dismounted, showing he was unarmed.
We searched him thoroughly before escorting to the legion commander.
"I am Ronad, son of Heigirt, chieftain of the Thunder Tribe. I've come with an ultimatum."
Cassius nodded with a wry smile.
"Speak."
"Our emperor's words: Your loyalty and toil for the empire suffice. You've upheld duty and honor. Don't you wish to see your families alive? Surrender now, and we'll treat you as brothers, share the glory."
Ronad finished, awaiting reply. Cassius scanned the officers' faces slowly. His eyes told me he'd resolved to die.
Rookie.
Green, inexperienced, noble-born Cassius.
We'd judged him so, sneered behind his back.
But he bore an imperial noble's honor and pride. Who'd think a spoiled elite cared beyond money and promotion?
I saw him anew—regretted dismissing him as mere rookie. His soldierly gaze swept us.
Yes. We were eagles of the empire. Once.
I bit my lip.
Money was fine, but after the empire fell? Our loved women, children? Tomorrow?
Even if corruption doomed it tomorrow, we couldn't end it ourselves. My comrades and I met his gaze firmly.
For families, we'd hustled cash, traded with barbarians—but now aligned with Cassius.
He confirmed our resolve with eyes, face hardening resolute.
"We refuse."
"No further offers."
Ronad warned curtly.
Cassius pointed outside.
"Go. Weak as we are, we'll fight as imperial soldiers."
"Fine. I'll relay your words to His Majesty."
Ronad turned.
No officer tried stopping him.
Only the quartermaster whimpered like a scared rat needing to piss.
Seeing that eased my death-fear a bit. Nice companion for the road. Haha.
I saluted the legion commander with true sincerity for the first time.
(To be continued)