Those Who Harbor Ambitions (2)
I felt a chill after meeting the new Praetorian Guard commander, Velius.
He was no mere bookworm or pampered noble relying on bloodline. At a young age, he'd been sent as a hostage to distant Ersia, endured their civil war, and served as a military advisor on countless battlefields—a true monster. His experience and rank made even seasoned Imperial Army commanders look like jokes.
And that ambition of his.
His eyes, openly declaring he'd seize any opportunity, unnerved me. They screamed that if his gain outweighed the empire's, he'd take it without hesitation.
Meeting Velius only multiplied my worries. But I couldn't voice them to my subordinates.
How could I label an Imperial Army commander dangerous based solely on my gut impression?
I rubbed my face with both hands.
"Something bothering you?"
"No. Nothing."
"Your face looks dark."
"It's always like that these days."
"Has it?"
Erenia smiled as she lightly swung the dagger in her hand. She slipped her index finger through the ring designed to fit it perfectly and spun the blade with practiced ease.
Click.
With a flick, Erenia holstered the dagger at her waist.
"But you look anxious for someone brushing it off. Like me a few days ago."
I figured it was safe to confide in her. She wouldn't blab, and she had no one to tell anyway. Erenia listened with keen interest, then clapped her palms together.
"If he's that worrying, just kill him tonight."
"What?"
Her absurd reply left me speechless for a moment.
"It's simple."
"That's too dangerous. The empire doesn't tolerate that."
"As long as you don't get caught?"
"Pretend I didn't hear that."
Erenia huffed in disappointment and flopped onto the bed.
It was a barbaric, straightforward solution, but not entirely fanciful. If he simply vanished, so would the worry.
But that's ridiculous.
An imperial soldier assassinating a superior? Unthinkable.
I shook my head.
The next day, Velius ordered us to march—destination: southern Libitus.
The army veered west. There was a slim chance Heigirt might cross the Ardian Mountains for a counterattack on the homeland, but it was unlikely this time too.
Without smashing the empire's main force, lingering in imperial territory without supply lines was suicidal.
As the helmeted troops marched in silence, I rode alongside the new legion commanders.
Most were pulled from the Eastern Legions on short notice, unfamiliar with northern affairs or the barbarian threat.
Our talks only deepened my unease.
An ambitious commander-in-chief paired with legion commanders clueless about the local situation.
Nothing about it screamed victory.
Still, we had over 35,000 men. Not a force barbarians could shatter easily.
As I chatted with the generals, Rikius galloped up.
"Sir."
"What is it?"
"Barbarians spotted ahead."
"Heigirt's scouts?"
I spurred my horse in shock.
Racing past the legion columns to the vanguard, my mind raced. This was still imperial soil.
Barbarian scouts here? Had Heigirt moved that fast?
I couldn't hide my alarm.
Reaching the front, I spotted a band of barbarians on the horizon.
Staring intently, I frowned.
"It's them. Heigirt's men for sure."
Sweat slicked my palms. On second thought, nothing barred Heigirt's troops from imperial territory. Aside from the Aquila Legion near the Ardian Mountains, border defenses were thin.
Sweeping through Libitus, Heigirt could dispatch raiders effortlessly if he wished.
But this was far from his main force.
Confirming our army's position, I watched the enemy scouts withdraw, swallowing hard.
Now Heigirt knew of our advance.
Inevitable battle loomed between empire and barbarian.
I prayed he lacked time for clever traps.
On the first day entering Libitus province proper, Heigirt's herald found us. We met him mounted. He approached with surprising courtesy.
"Rinper of Belanga greets the Praetorian Prefect, governor, and legion commanders of the empire."
"You found us sooner than expected. What brings you, barbarian king’s envoy?"
Velius said.
"My king demands exchange: the captured prince and 5,000 imperial citizens for their release."
"Captured prince?"
Velius glanced our way.
Right—Ronad was our prisoner. We'd kept the worthless whelp to bait his father later, but now it clicked.
"I nabbed him on the way back from Briton."
"You did, Governor Ain?"
"Yes."
"Hm. A barbarian prince for 5,000 citizens."
Velius stroked his chin.
Numerically, it seemed fair.
But Ronad's value exceeded 5,000 lives. He symbolized Heigirt's army's fallibility—a clear defeat and viable heir.
If Brikin died, Ronad could claim Thunder Tribe succession. Trading him for mere thousands was folly.
"We'll add gold."
The herald pressed.
Velius smirked and turned to me.
"You caught him, Governor, so your say matters. What's your take?"
"Generous ransom, but valuing a rebel traitor at all is absurd."
"Well said. Hear that? The governor says traitors don't warrant ransom."
"You'll refuse our king's offer?"
"Why negotiate with rebels? Tell him: we'll talk sword-to-sword on the field."
The herald bit his lip, bowed curtly, and withdrew.
But I sensed Heigirt had achieved his goal—scouting our command structure under the prisoner pretext. Key officers had to show for a prince's fate.
Still as cunning as ever.
Gathering intel pre-battle, even staking his son's life, without losing cool. No ordinary man.
As I watched the herald go, Velius addressed me.
"Mind if I see Prince Ronad's face?"
"Of course. Rikius!"
"Yes, sir."
"Drag him here."
Rikius hauled Ronad forward like refuse. No royal treatment—the wretch was battered, ropes binding him tightly testament to his ordeal.
Before us, Rikius kicked his legs out from behind.
"Kneel."
Ptoo.
Ronad spat mud and glared fiercely.
"Still a wild boar. That's Ronad."
I introduced him to Velius.
Velius dismounted after a glance.
"You Ronad?"
"Who the hell are you?"
Ronad barked, oblivious to rank.
Rikius kicked him face-first into dirt again. Ronad spat.
"Real boar, this one. I'm the new Praetorian Prefect, Velius."
Velius stood before him.
"Praetorian Prefect?"
Ronad flinched at the title—imperial supreme command undeniable.
But eyeing Velius's youth, he sneered.
"Hahaha. If true, we've already won this war."
"Why think that?"
"My father's no pushover for green boys."
Velius tilted his head curiously.
Then, before anyone could stop him, he drew and severed Ronad's head. The prince didn't realize at first, his face blank as it rolled.
Velius flicked blood from his blade and chuckled.
"But I'm a green boy with resolve. Not scared enough to spare a clueless boar."
He turned to us and remounted.
I bit my lip at the display.
This was for us. Planned from the start.
A show for skeptical generals: he'd kill a captive prince without qualms, backed by the political clout to handle fallout. He flaunted it boldly.
No novice to war.
A suddenly appointed, unseasoned supreme commander needed such theatrics to cow his generals.
Not easy, though.
From horseback, Velius said to me,
"Sorry for disposing of your prisoner without asking, Governor. I'll make it up to you handsomely later."
"Understood."
No point raging—Ronad was dead anyway. And alienating an ambitious prefect over trash wasn't wise. He'd lose his head eventually regardless.
As Velius rode off to lead the column, Rikius said,
"The prefect seems reckless, sir. Using your prisoner like that, and a prince no less. Killing Heigirt's son kills any negotiation."
"Exactly. But with one head, Velius proved to us he's no mere boy. A cheap price for him."
"Still don't trust him."
"Nor I, till his skill proves it. But don't show it. We're imperial legionaries—soldiers who obey orders."
"Yes, sir."
I clapped Rikius's shoulder and eyed Ronad's head in the dirt.
The end of ambition.
I tsked and turned my horse.
(To be continued)