Those Who Desire Freedom (3)
Briton is an island disconnected from the continent. Even the nearest strait lies more than 40 kilometers away, leaving ships as the only means of crossing.
Because of this, the Empire developed massive ports on both sides of the strait. One of them is Londinium, Briton's largest city.
Londinium was a planned imperial city built to impress the Britons, boasting a scale utterly out of place on this rustic frontier island.
A grand arena seating over 10,000, a harbor that could dock dozens of vessels, five fortresses encircling the city, and a colossal governor's mansion rising five stories high.
Aqueducts stretching tens of kilometers. The city, lavished with imperial care, was more than enough to overawe the Britons.
But that's all there is in Briton.
I knew Briton had only three military cities, Londinium included. Beyond those built for war, no real cities existed.
So education, culture, and the economy could never advance, dooming it to remain the Empire's backwater. That might be why the Britons dreamed of independence.
I turned from the fog-shrouded city visible from the ship's rail.
The fleet eased into Londinium Bay. As we neared the harbor, the rowers slowed. I ordered Rikius to prepare for disembarkation.
While the fleet decelerated, I bit my lip at the sight of the ten warships trailing behind.
More than that, Heigirt—what the hell is that bastard thinking?
He'd sent troops as the Emperor demanded. Laughable that it was just 1,500 men, but a dispatch was a dispatch.
But that number wouldn't sway the rebellion much. Was it just for show?
No, 1,500 was too many for mere optics. If it were only for appearances, 500 would suffice. This ambiguous figure was what gave me a headache.
Thirty minutes later, the fleet reached Londinium Harbor. The moment the ships touched the docks, laborers swarmed to unload our supplies. Arriving on the promised date was a stroke of luck.
"Your Excellency. The Briton governor awaits."
"Ah, right."
Hearing Rikius from the stern, I hurried down the gangplank. As he said, a governor in splendid attire waited on the pier. The man, appearing in his mid-fifties, looked utterly exhausted.
I'd probably look the same. A rebellion left no time to breathe.
The governor approached me.
"Haha. Quite the journey from Bellgorod. Well done, Governor Ain."
"If it's the Emperor's command, I'd go farther than Briton."
"In any case, thank you for coming. I and the Briton legionaries have high hopes for you, Governor Ain."
His effusive flattery betrayed how dire things were. Normally, he'd envy or resent a much younger peer commanding reinforcements.
If he couldn't even muster that, the situation was grave indeed.
I strode along the pier, cloak billowing.
"How fares Briton, anyway? I know only of the rebellion."
"Frankly, it's serious. One of our three legions was annihilated, another's isolated in its base. Londinium hasn't been attacked yet, but it's no cause for optimism."
"One legion wiped out, another pinned down. What's the status of Londinium's garrison legion?"
"Around 2,500 men now. Equipment's adequate, but expendables like arrows are sorely lacking."
Hah. Even hearing it was bleak. This meant fighting with my own forces, essentially.
"How many rebels?"
"Over 30,000 confirmed three days ago—likely more now."
"So definitely over 30,000?"
"Yes."
30,000.
Adding Heigirt's 1,500, my 4,000, and max 1,500 from Londinium made 7,000.
We had to crush an enemy over four times that. Most were peasant rabble, so not impossible.
The problem was they wouldn't stop at 30,000.
To oppose us, they'd swell their ranks—expect at least five times our number. And if needed, they'd call in northern Briton barbarians or those from Hiberia across the sea. Culturally kin to the natives, regardless.
I realized we'd fight at a severe strategic disadvantage.
Had Heigirt's forces clashed with the Empire's as intended, Briton would have been untouchable.
"First, summon the garrison legion commander. And mobilize every smith in Londinium to meet at least half our arrow needs."
"Also, I need slaves for logistics. Provide every slave the city can spare."
"Consider it done."
The Briton governor nodded without question.
With rebellion success meaning his head, he had no choice but to bet on me.
I sent him off and sighed.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The clamor of smiths hammering wood and iron rang out. I crossed the city with Rikius. The air of impending attack had civilians packing everywhere.
Nobles and rich merchants with villas nearby.
I glanced at them and said to Rikius,
"The city's mood is rotten. Feels like we're already under siege."
"I agree."
"What of Briginsa?"
"Commanding the rear disembarkation. Heigirt sent elite picks, it seems."
"Watch him closely. Smiling face hides his intentions."
"Yes. Eyes on him always."
"Good. Fetch Usiper and Jeshuter. We'll meet the local legion commander with them."
"Yes."
I left Cogol managing the rest and headed to meet the garrison commander. The 18th Legion's leader, defending Londinium, was posted at an outer fortress. I met him at the governor's mansion.
"An honor."
18th Legion Commander Ambrosius was tall and sharp-featured, early forties—a young commander by my standards, but veteran.
My freak promotions had inverted our places; he'd once been far above me.
I shook his hand.
"Too kind. Even in Bellgorod, I'd heard of you."
Not the best rumors, mind.
We sat facing each other. My two chieftains looming like screens behind me tilted the mood in my favor.
Ambrosius cleared his throat and spoke first.
"I've heard from the governor. Over 5,000 reinforcements?"
"2,000 legionaries, 3,500 auxiliaries."
"Impressive force. Our Briton legions are a mess—three combined might match yours."
"Heard 18th has 2,500. What of the others?"
"Wiped 15th had 1,200; isolated 13th around 1,500."
Easy for rebels to seize initiative. Half strength made holding impossible.
"Write off 13th and 15th: we've got 8,000 here. Leave 1,000 for Londinium defense—7,000 against the rebels."
"Yes. Embarrassing, but true."
Already calculated with the governor.
I probed further concerns.
"Any stir from Hiberia or northern barbarians? Other regions?"
"Reports show nothing unusual. Sea raids up, but that's standard when legions slack."
"Understood. Give me 1,500 men; focus on Londinium defense. Governor's experienced, but civilian evacuations overwhelm him—he needs a defense chief."
"Yes. So ordered."
Ambrosius brightened and nodded. Never under anyone but the governor, my youthful command must chafe.
Even battle-loving commanders hate this.
For me, an unwieldy general underfoot was poison. I prefer clear chains; better without him.
I got introductions to battalion commanders for the field and left the mansion.
As dusk fell, I led legionaries on a circuit of the city streets.
To show the Empire wouldn't retreat from Briton—and would crush the rebellion.
Mounted on my white steed, I drew my sword and roared,
"The Empire is one!"
"The Empire is one!"
the legionaries bellowed.
"Mercy for loyalty! Death for treason!"
"Mercy for loyalty! Death for treason!"
Their raw shouts echoed through the streets. Panicked citizens packing up spilled into the roads.
I glanced at them and bellowed louder,
"The Empire triumphs today! Who stands here?"
"Ain! Ain! Empire's Wall!"
"Yes! I am Ain, symbol of the victorious eagles! I stand here—so today, the legion prevails!"
"Ain! Ain!"
I sheathed my sword amid their empowered cheers. Citizens, stunned then clapping to our voices.
At the column's head, I commanded briskly,
"Legion, march out! Open the gates!"
Soldiers dashed to fling wide Londinium's gates. Standards first, infantry in perfect order streamed out, heavy barbarian cavalry following.
I emerged last with the drummers. Rikius, at the rear, shouted at the city one final time.
"The legion triumphs! Victory to the Empire!"
I smirked at his cry.
Now the citizens knew: Briton legions might falter, but we weren't so weak.
We're not like Briton's legions.
But confidence alone wouldn't win. Enemy strength—30,000 or 40,000? Unknown. External barbarians possible.
And Briginsa's true motives under our banner. All uneasy factors.
Yet defeat here shakes the Empire.
So we must win.
To drumbeats, I gazed skyward.
If you watch, lend me strength. No divine grace, but your aid—I trust.
A brief prayer to fallen comrades, then eyes on the column.
(To be continued)