The Sun Dyes Red (2)
The Dane tribe had been etched into the empire's history as barbarians since time immemorial. In simple terms, they were the ones who'd been plundering the empire since the old days.
Among the barbarians, they stood out with their especially intimidating physiques and fierce appearances, a terror that permeated every corner of Briton.
And now, twenty thousand of them had come. It was no wonder the legion commanders of Briton's forces, right up to the governor, were losing their minds. They'd been scrambling just to fend off a few hundred before, so facing tens of thousands must have their hands and feet shaking.
But I didn't know them.
I didn't know them, yet they didn't scare me. Tens of thousands of barbarians just as savage as them had already died by my hand. I'd faced down monsters like Heigirt—what reason did I have to tremble at the mere sound of their name?
The only worry is whether they just happened to bring their main army at this exact moment.
That nagged at me.
If they'd timed it to strike when the Briton rebels were winning, they'd chosen the perfect window. In that case, they'd have landed right as the Britons disbanded their conscripts, seizing Londinium and most of the eastern coast with barely a fight.
Briton would have become Dane territory.
Things aligning this neatly only happened when someone had planned it. Heigirt. I suspected him.
Just looking at this incident alone, if the Danes pushed into Briton, it would reduce the barbarian threat looming behind Belanga. That opened up more strategic options for Heigirt. And if he'd allied with the Danes, it'd make maneuvering even easier.
But this was just suspicion.
I shook off the stray thoughts and entered the governor's residence.
"Oh, Governor Ain."
The Briton governor grabbed both my hands the moment he saw me. Having resolved the rebel issue for them, his eyes brimmed with faith that I'd handle the Dane army too—a gaze that felt burdensome.
I carefully extracted my hand from his wrinkled grasp.
The governor cleared his throat awkwardly and tucked his now-useless hands behind his back. He knew he looked foolish.
"I've heard the news. The Dane horde has landed, yes?"
"Indeed. An unprecedented force."
"No other movements?"
"Just reports of them setting up camp."
"Then there's something Your Excellency can do for us."
"What would that be?"
"Go to the Danes as our envoy."
His eyes widened at my words. Like I'd just suggested walking naked into a lion's den.
"What do you mean by that, Governor Ain?"
"To make them drop their guard. If Briton's governor himself comes as envoy, they'll think they've already won without a fight. That's only natural. I want them to believe that."
"But the empire's dignity—"
"We'll crush them and take it back. With Your Excellency's help, it's possible."
I fixed him with a serious gaze.
He chewed his lip. If things went wrong, the Danes might lop off his head—he couldn't agree lightly.
But the defense of Briton was his responsibility, not mine. If it failed, I might walk away, but he wouldn't.
The Briton governor pondered long and hard.
Finally, he nodded.
"Very well. We'll do as Governor Ain says."
"Thank you, Your Excellency."
With his approval secured, I summoned Briton's legion commanders and ordered preparations to defend Londinium. Once we sent the governor as envoy, they'd surely underestimate us and attack—we had to be ready.
I issued detailed defense directives to the legion commanders, then called for Cogol and positioned the 16th Legion outside Londinium.
The 16th's role was singular: strike the enemy's flank at the critical moment during their siege attempt.
I planned to utterly smash the Danes with this gambit.
But I had no illusions it would be easy.
The Danes weren't simple barbarians. They were cunning, sly pirates at their core.
Which meant I couldn't relax or boast it'd go smoothly.
I stood on the ramparts, staring silently at the faint lights flickering in the distance.
"Empire dogs! Vacate Londinium without a fuss, and we'll let the women and children leave!"
I'd climbed up at the sound of war drums that morning to find the plains before Londinium swarming with barbarians bellowing at us. We'd sent the governor to negotiate terms, and their morale was sky-high.
Still, offering to let women and children go probably meant they'd heard the rebels were crushed and figured clashing with us would be a slog.
But I had no intention of accepting such terms.
I ordered the troops not to respond at all. We didn't loose a single arrow or utter a word, no matter how hoarse they shouted. After urging our surrender for a while, the barbarians fell back.
Then, men carrying ladders stepped forward.
They're about to start the siege.
I drew my sword and mounted the battlements.
"Briton's eagles! I won't tell you to stake your lives today. But look back once, hesitate, and remember: your families, your property, all turned to ash.
Briton's legion! I trust you're not the sort who can't even protect your own. Fight not for the empire, but for yourselves. Be the unbreakable wall!"
I shouted briefly to the troops, then bellowed, "Battle stations!"
Officers echoed from their posts with the ritual cry: "We die for the empire!"—rallying the men's resolve.
Soon, the Dane horde surged like a black tide toward the northern walls of Londinium, exposed to the open plains.
"Waaah!"
The barbarians unleashed guttural roars from their guts as they swarmed the walls. The moment they raised ladders, legionaries slashed to topple them. Men climbing midway screamed and plummeted.
"Loose!"
At the officers' command, archers unleashed volleys. Briton's legions traditionally emphasized fortified defense, with a high proportion of bowmen.
A dark cloud of arrows rained down on the barbarians.
"Kek!"
The Danes hastily raised shields, but the arrow storm disrupted their momentum. Confirming they'd committed only a fraction of their force, I decided to drag out the fight.
"Oil coming through! Clear the way!"
Soldiers atop the walls hauled jars of boiling oil, struggling under the weight. As they reached the parapet, shield-bearing defenders fell back.
"Pour!"
At the decurion's order, the men shoved the jars with all their might. Scalding oil cascaded onto the Danes clinging to the walls.
"Aaaagh!"
Drenched victims thrashed and screamed. Once the oil hit, soldiers dropped lit torches below.
Whoosh!
Flames erupted, engulfing the barbarians. Those shrieking in agony became living torches, stumbling through their own ranks.
But the enemy's main force is still fresh.
I noted the Danes weren't committing fully. Even their reserves outnumbered our entire strength.
I watched the troops' fierce defense from the battlements.
Wait a little longer.
I glanced up. The sun rising in the east was still half-veiled by the fortress, not yet at full glare. Plenty of time left.
"Give the barbarians no quarter!"
I endured amid the troops' shouts. Thirty minutes. An hour. As the battle dragged, the barbarians fed in a second wave.
The textbook tactic: fresh troops to score a breakthrough.
The moment new barbarians latched onto the walls, I looked skyward.
Sting.
Blinding sunlight made me squint.
Now.
I leaped down, seized the drum, and beat it furiously.
Cogol! Cogol! Now!
My drum thundered across the plains—a desperate call to the 16th Legion hidden somewhere yonder.
Cogol!!!!!
I pounded away, praying Cogol would answer in time.
"The empire calls us!"
From afar, war cries rose with thousands charging into view. At the fore, Usiper's cavalry thundered on, lances leveled. Their charge rattled the Danes.
"Fear not the empire's vermin!"
A Dane commander bellowed.
Dane infantry scrambled to form ranks against us.
But the fierce eastern sun now blazed fully, blinding their eyes.
They strained to peer at our men, but couldn't fight their fluttering lids.
The Danes thrust weapons forward clumsily, trying to receive our cavalry.
"Hiya."
Usiper's horsemen shattered their line in one rush. A solid spear wall might've turned our mounts aside, but they failed. Punching through the infantry, the cavalry trampled onward.
"Kaaak!"
With every flourish of barbarian cavalry blades, Dane heads flew. The enemy infantry panicked at the intrusion.
Fierce northern raiders.
Monstrous in singles, but as an army, not so formidable—without a genius commander like Heigirt.
I watched our 16th Legion infantry pour through the breach, swords swinging. The already chaotic enemy lines crumbled.
Every slash and shield bash drew screams from the Danes.
As their rear turned to chaos, the besiegers faltered too. Seeing them hastily withdraw ladders, I dropped the drumsticks and drew my sword.
"The Danes are fleeing! Briton's eagles—exact vengeance for centuries of their plundering! Repay their folly with blood and heads! Open the gates!"
"Waaah!"
The troops roared in response.
We'd played defense so far, but Briton soldiers weren't immune to wanting payback against the Danes.
Gates flung wide, legionaries surged out like a furious wave onto the plains. We carved through the panicked Danes mercilessly.
I mounted my warhorse and followed the men.
"Leave not one alive. Make them pay for invading the empire—with their necks!"
I gripped my sword, urging the troops on.
Our barbarian cavalry circled the flanks, severing fleeing Danes' heads.
We herded the enemy into a tightening noose.
Soon, packed so tight they couldn't swing, the infantry panicked openly.
"Slaughter them!"
No orders needed.
Our men hacked and stabbed the defenseless. A few Danes begged surrender, but we showed no mercy.
They'd pounced on the empire's weakness.
To deter other barbarians, we had to punish them utterly.
I meant to erase the Dane name from this plain today.
"Kaaaagh!"
A spear-pierced Dane's scream echoed.
Beneath the dazzling sun, I oversaw the butchery of tens of thousands.
(To be continued)