The End of the Plot (4)
The enemy had staked everything on this battle. Throwing their entire legion into the fray at once was proof enough, but their refusal to break off the engagement even after two grueling hours made it undeniable. Both sides' soldiers were exhausted beyond measure.
Our men, who had repeatedly scrambled up and down the walls to plug breaches, were on the verge of foaming at the mouth.
"Signal from 6th Centuria! They're requesting support!"
"Damn it. No reserves nearby?"
"Everyone's stretched thin."
"I'll go."
I swung my sword to clear a path, then personally led a group of soldiers toward the weak point. With the men so worn out, the only solution was for the commander to set an example and show his face.
"It's the traitor Ain!"
A few Atillca legion officers shouted it out. These were men who'd once served under my command—such words made my blood boil.
I understood, of course. They figured it stroked their pride more to serve a legitimate imperial scion with noble blood than some backwater peasant upstart.
"Push them back!"
The Atillca legionaries shoved our soldiers. The foothold they'd carved on the wall was expanding. Our weary troops couldn't hold them off and were giving ground inch by inch.
"I'll take the lead."
"Sir!"
The soldiers paled in shock as I stepped to the front.
But I pressed on silently, thrusting with my shield and slashing with my blade. Ashamed by the sight, the men held their ragged breaths and forced themselves to match my pace.
If the commander led the charge, how could the soldiers slack off?
As we counterattacked, the Atillca troops hurriedly formed a shield wall to halt our rush.
I slammed my shield into theirs and bellowed,
"Push!"
The soldiers struck the enemy shields in unison. A brutal shoving match ensued, shields grinding against shields.
Seizing the moment when their push intensified, I deflected their shields sideways and yelled,
"Deflect!"
Our men were seasoned at redirecting the brute force of barbarians in battle.
But the Atillca legionaries, whose experience amounted mostly to hunting down small barbarian bands, weren't as adept with shields.
As we parted our line just enough, the enemy awkwardly wedged themselves between us. We plunged our swords into their exposed flanks.
"We're the empire's eagles! Not like you chicks waiting tamely in the nest for scraps!"
Our soldiers roared it out.
The walltop was already slick with blood from both sides.
We marshaled our last reserves of strength and herded the Atillca men toward the edge. They fought desperately to hold their gains, but once the tide turned, their fate was sealed.
We shoved them off the wall in one go.
Like a lion sending its rival plummeting from a cliff and roaring in triumph, we unleashed a victory cry.
"Yaaah!"
Our shout visibly cowed the enemies still clambering up elsewhere. After fierce back-and-forth, we succeeded in clearing the wall of all climbers.
But we were nearly spent and battered ourselves—hardly a clear-cut win. I panted heavily, gazing at the soldiers slumped haphazardly amid the corpses, then leaned against the wall.
'If they'd had the reserves for a second wave, we'd have been done for.'
I breathed a sigh of relief that the enemy wasn't stronger. A touch more skill or numbers, and we'd have surely lost the wall.
I removed my helmet, set it on the wall, and ran a hand through my sweat-matted hair.
As I cooled my feverish head in the breeze, an officer approached with a report.
"Sir, trouble in the city."
"Trouble?"
"Yes. Seems some enemy troops slipped inside via the sewers during the fighting."
"Didn't we seal the sewers with grates beforehand?"
I'd explicitly ordered the capital's sewers barred against infiltration.
"Can't deny they've gotten in, though."
"Inside job, then."
I bit my lip. No way such an intrusion happens without help from within.
"Sir, we need men."
"How many intruders?"
"No more than two hundred."
"Small force. Then..."
I saw through what Velius was after.
Marius the emperor.
Decapitate the emperor I'd installed, shatter our rallying point. Laughable, but without our emperor, Velius would stand alone as claimant to the throne—for now. It buys him time.
And we'd be doomed.
I'd feigned a siege while hurling barbs of my own, only to fall for his counterstroke. Still, Velius's gambit hadn't pierced our heart.
Marius hadn't held his accession ceremony yet, so he was staying at his private estate, not the palace.
Thus, as his sewer infiltrators hit the palace, their blade was exposed to us.
My body felt leaden, but I hauled myself up.
"I'll head to the hill. From each defense sector, send a hundred mobile troops and three hundred armed slum dwellers toward the palace."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll cut the traitors' heads myself."
I turned my gaze to the distant palace.
The imperial palace was immense.
Like empires of old, successive emperors had expanded it to their tastes—annexing new buildings until it sprawled across an entire hill.
Given its scale, attackers targeting just one spot wasn't unreasonable. Taking it alone would take time; splitting forces elsewhere was tricky.
The intruders posted guards at the three entrances to the palace, then scoured every room, slaughtering everyone in sight. Any man working the court—regardless of rank—met the blade.
The emperor's secretaries, bureaucrats handling court business, and servants fell in droves.
The maids suffered the same humiliations.
To guard against the emperor in disguise, the intruders stripped them all bare.
Considering these women were daughters of high noble houses, it was an outrage beyond measure.
But Velius's faction was that desperate. Having gone all-in, they had to kill Marius.
While they raised hell in the palace, I mustered troops at the hill's base.
Exhausted as we were, we couldn't let traitors trample the empire's heart.
I drew my sword and shouted,
"Strike the traitors!"
"Death to the traitors!"
The soldiers surged up the hill with a roar. Seeing the black mass of slum fighters below, the enemy mistook us for a full counterforce and fled without fighting, too panicked to resist.
Our troops chased them down, swords flashing.
I watched the men storm the palace, then followed at a measured pace.
The palace's fine marble columns and floors were spattered red from the clash.
Passing a corridor, I spotted trembling women and ordered a few soldiers to fetch them clothes.
The fight ended easily—the enemy bolted in terror, turning it into a one-sided pursuit and slaughter.
The centurion in charge reported we'd taken over 160 heads.
'Not enough.'
There'd been far more intruders.
The rest were either hiding in the palace or had slipped away somehow—but they lived on.
Even so, they'd failed utterly.
I reported the full palace raid to the emperor and asked him to flaunt his survival once.
He agreed readily to appear on the wall. Risky, but it was my riposte to Velius's all-in bet.
Toot-toot!
Late afternoon, as the emperor arrived at the wall, our prepared trumpeters blared. The sudden fanfare drew eyes from enemy troops resting a ways off.
"The empire's sovereign, proxy for the people and Senate, liege of the steadfast eagles—Consul Ain kneels before His Imperial Majesty the Emperor."
I knelt with theatrical flair, and the soldiers chorused "Imperator forever!" in salute.
The commotion alerted the enemy to the emperor's presence. Panic rippled through their ranks.
'Velius must've told them Marius died mid-battle.'
I'd have done the same in his shoes. It convinces the men victory's in sight, spurring full effort. No one fights for a lost cause.
But now Velius's word was worthless.
Our emperor Marius lived; Velius skulked below the wall. The enemy troops realized it and stared blankly for a moment.
Mindful of the distant legionaries, the emperor flung his purple cloak wide and placed a hand on the wall.
"Consul Ain."
"Yes, Majesty."
"Plenty of rebels left—can I hold the throne?"
"Of course. And Velius falls soon. Now that they've seen you hale, the enemy will shun a hopeless fight."
"Then I'll sweeten the pot a bit."
"Wise counsel, Majesty."
"I'll draft a letter soon. Embellish as you see fit."
"My thanks."
I bowed to the emperor.
True to his consular past, Marius grasped the play instantly.
Send envoys to the rebel leaders now, offer honeyed inducements and carrots—barring the monster Velius, they'd waver.
Internal strife would erupt.
They'd slaughter each other.
With that chaos, the demoralized slaves and slum fighters would desert en masse; even the elite Atillca legion would falter.
The enemy would cease to be a threat.
No need to defend—we could sally forth and crush the rabble.
I was pleased the emperor could read the board.
Incompetent Baccus would've stared blankly, clueless.
Now a true sovereign sat the throne.
The empire would reclaim its apex predations.
Crushing internal vermin and uppity barbarians alike.
I stood by the emperor, gazing down at the flustered legionaries.
"Oh, one more thing."
"Yes, Majesty."
"Those palace intruders."
"Yes."
"Word is they had inside help. Let's bury that."
I hesitated at his words. Traitors who'd colluded with Velius to strike the empire's heart.
"Understood."
I answered reluctantly.
Fine. If the sovereign I served chose to bury it for stability, a consul couldn't defy him.
Politics wasn't for soldiers like me anyway.
Velius had forced my hand in meddling with the Senate and ruling the empire briefly, but I was a frontier warrior at heart. Politics was a mire I cared not to wade.
"Thank you."
The emperor clapped my shoulder.
I felt warmth in his hand and beheld the sun shining gloriously.
(To be continued)