I Declared Victory (2)
“Raaah!”
The enemy’s roars, blanketing the earth, echoed thunderously. I gazed coldly at the onrushing foes and raised my hand.
“Loose!”
Whir. Whish.
Our arrows rained down relentlessly on the enemy infantry lines. Their small round shields blocked most, but plenty struck limbs. The wounded collapsed in place, vanishing under the trampling feet of their own comrades.
A simple probe for their first attack?
I figured they’d pull back after testing our palisade defenses. Sure enough, after enduring two volleys, their infantry wave reached the stakes.
“Thrust!”
Our spearmen lunged as if they’d been waiting. The enemy infantry, just clinging to the palisade, screamed and reeled back.
“Hold your positions!”
The centurions bellowed.
While our soldiers clashed fiercely across the palisade, I stood high on the canyon ridge, surveying the field.
The opening skirmish was a draw.
We hadn’t played all our cards, and neither had they—no real heavy hitters yet. They wouldn’t have entered this unfavorable terrain thinking a simple assault would do, unless Cladius was a fool.
But they don’t seem poised for a flank either. Do they have something up their sleeve?
I called for Rikius.
“Prepare the beehives.”
“Already, sir?”
“Be ready to launch on command.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Rikius departed, I turned my gaze to the enemy lines.
They came at us with brute force. The dumbest choice on this terrain—unless they had a trick, which could change everything.
The enemy infantry hammered steadily at our palisade. After nearly an hour of this grinding slog, our front-line troops were exhausted. Corpses piled so high in front that even thrusting spears grew difficult.
But a few hundred dead meant nothing to them.
I watched the enemy infantry slowly withdraw, then stiffened. Amid their ranks appeared the oxen used for hauling supplies—but these were charging at terrifying speed, wild with rage unlike their usual calm.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
No way.
With earth-shaking roars, the maddened bulls barreled straight for the canyon. In history, the famed general Barca, surrounded by imperial forces, had once set fire to bulls’ tails and broken an enemy blockade at a canyon mouth.
A tactic straight from imperial annals—clever, if they knew their history.
That must’ve been their ace, grinding us down until we lacked the stamina to dodge on foot!
“Fall back the troops!”
I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Centurions relayed the order with shouts. The time it took our soldiers to leap from the palisade and sprint from the canyon felt eternal.
Then the first bulls slammed into the stakes.
Boom!
Stakes that could withstand a cavalry charge crumpled like nothing against the furious onslaught. The herd trampled the corpse piles, smashing the barrier, surging into the canyon like an unstoppable wave.
Stragglers who fell were crushed underhoof.
I fixated too much on flanks.
I admitted my error. I should’ve considered a stubborn frontal breakthrough. The canyon’s advantages had lulled me.
Confirming the herd had punched through our lines, I drew my sword and shouted.
“Reform the line! Here they come! Rikius, mount up—fetch the 13th and 18th Legions!”
“Yes, sir!”
With enemy flanking unlikely now, I played my gamble.
Concentrating infantry here risked annihilation from a side attack. But having taken the first blow, we needed a bold stroke to seize initiative.
“Cogol! Fire the catapults!”
I yelled at the sight of enemy infantry swarming black behind the bulls. Our troops hadn’t even formed a blockade at the mouth, yet they were already over the palisade site.
Thwump!
With dull thuds, our catapults hurled the beehives.
The enemy raised shields at the sight—small stones like that could be blocked without much harm. But they were dead wrong.
Splat!
Buzzzzzz.
The hives shattered on shields, unleashing hell’s hounds with glowing eyes. Wasps, frenzied as if their nests were smashed, went berserk.
“B-bees!”
Soldiers who’d shrugged off the stones reeled from the sudden swarm. Clad in proper legion kit—armor to undergarments—they might’ve fared better, but these were mere peasant levies.
Crude wooden shields and spears were luxury enough; their rough leather-and-cloth garb offered no defense. The swarm was apocalypse.
“F-fucking hell!”
They flailed shields and spears wildly, chasing wasps, advance impossible. Pushed by rear ranks, those swinging arms toppled like dominoes.
“Keep launching!”
I ordered more volleys, watching their formation tangle. Meanwhile, our troops hastily formed a double-rank wall at the canyon mouth. Not ideal—mid-canyon would’ve been better—but terrain favored us.
I breathed relief at foiling one ploy.
Using bulls as breachers. They predicted we’d fight here from the start. Brilliant.
But we’d blocked it. Our infantry reformed the wall; they’d lost their golden chance.
I hoped they’d stubbornly fixate on breaching.
As the enemy shook off the shock, I ordered our square tightened.
“Raaah!”
The charging foes slammed into us, their hot breath over shields wrinkling our men’s faces.
No more than four hundred hit at once, but the press behind multiplied the strain tenfold.
“We are the legion! We’re not so frail as to yield to barbarians and traitors!”
Cogol roared from the ranks, gripping the legion standard himself.
I saw our line yield foot by foot, but it held.
A bit more, then curve to crescent. 13th and 18th will arrive soon.
I kept my cool, thinking ahead.
I watched the banner snap in the wind. The imperial eagle at the canyon mouth now fluttered toward us—though moments ago, not a breeze stirred.
Canyon winds shift cyclically.
If they turned right, we had a card to play.
The fight dragged nearly an hour. The arriving 13th and 18th bolstered our line.
Our formation bowed like a bow toward us, but we held the edge—more blades in play. As long as it didn’t break, we wouldn’t yield.
I descended into the fray, rallying the men personally.
“Hold just a bit longer! The tide turns soon!”
Amid exhaustion, they chanted my name.
“Ain! Ain! Ain!”
I raised my sword hand high.
Turning from the ranks, Rikius approached.
“Sir, a messenger from Usiper chieftain, waiting in the woods.”
“What news?”
“Enemy detachment spotted entering the flank path.”
My face hardened.
Cladius wasn’t fool enough to bet all on frontal assault. Their flankers would doom us utterly.
If that was their plan, yes—unless we had counters. But we did.
I closed then opened my eyes. The banner hung limp. Wind shift time.
The imperial eagle seemed to whisper coldly: counterstrike hour. Gazing at it, I spoke gravely.
“Rikius.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have the 18th’s rear ranks break green branches, light them. Flood the canyon with smoke.”
“B-but—”
“Wind’s in our favor; they won’t see. One shot.
Crush the canyon foes in one blow, break their front.”
I committed to the gamble. If we smashed the canyon enemy before flankers looped, we’d dictate terms. Fail, and the legion died here.
“Yes.”
Rikius saluted grimly.
“And tell Usiper: ignore flankers, cross the path, hit their side. In this clash, we take Cladius the traitor’s head.”
“Yes, sir!”
I sent him off and gripped the drumsticks myself.
Soon, 18th legionaries kindled huge fires behind us, tossing wet green wood atop. Acrid smoke billowed thick.
It rode the wind straight into the canyon.
“Down! Cover noses!”
Decurions yelled.
Rear ranks tore undergarments for masks.
The smoke swept past our line, engulfing the enemy.
Coughing fits seized them instantly.
“Kek.”
Facing it head-on, unlike us, they couldn’t even open eyes—curling like shrimp or staggering back.
Chaos engulfed their ranks.
I watched coldly, then beat the drum.
“Imperial eagles! The foe bares their necks. Slay! Trample! In His Majesty’s name and the empire’s, punish the traitors!”
To the beat, legionaries surged into the canyon. Vision impaired for us too, but less than them.
They hacked and shield-bashed the flailing mass, advancing.
Not a bad plan to catch us. But Cladius, you underestimated me and our border legions. Fallen or not, we’re the empire’s shield through centuries. Not so brittle as to shatter on peasant rabble.
I watched the slaughter with icy eyes.
Legionaries halved the canyon, slaying thousands. Panic spread; enemies fled each other, wrecking rear lines.
At this point, victory was sealed.
I set down the sticks, watching our push.
By now, Usiper’s cavalry would’ve hit their flank, shattering morale.
They hope flankers strike our rear, but it’s over. Main force broken, survivors can’t save it.
I drove my sword into the canyon mouth.
This battle is our empire’s triumph.
I declared it to the unseen foe.
(To be continued)