Praetorian Prefect (1)
I declared the conquest of Belanga and brought the war to a close.
There were still remnants of barbarians lingering within imperial territory, but I saw no need to deal with their extermination personally.
I assigned the Atillca Legion to hunt down bandits and stragglers, sending them to Libitus, while rushing to fortify the border from Belanga.
Reinforcing the border with a weakened army was no easy task. Still, having just demonstrated our strength, the barbarians didn't dare crawl out into the open, so there were no major issues.
To make up for our shortages, I brought in soldiers from the Thunder Tribe as allied forces, as agreed with Brikin.
Having former enemies under my command.
It felt a bit unsettling, but the empire was in no position to be picky about cold or hot rice these days.
What did it matter if they were barbarians or yesterday's foes when we were short on men? The past meant nothing when it came to defending the border.
I drilled that point firmly into the troops.
A few officers grumbled about it, but none dared show it in front of me.
Of course, I didn't blindly trust yesterday's enemies either. I planned to bring in new allies to keep them in check.
The Dane tribe? Rubiot looked at me in disbelief, tearing into his bread in the town hall's dining room.
That's right. The Dane tribe.
Aren't those guys the barbarians among barbarians?
Exactly.
Taking them in will cause endless trouble.
I intended to use the Danes to keep the other barbarians in the army in line.
No matter the reason, they lacked the strength to raid the empire for the time being. That meant they had no choice but to rely on trade with us, making it hard for them to do anything that would harm our border defenses.
Even if they were rough and savage, when you weighed the interests involved, they were better than the other barbarians.
We have to take that risk.
Rubiot set down his bread and eyed me.
So how many are you planning to take in?
As many as the Dane king offers. I'm thinking at least two thousand.
Two thousand Danes? Isn't that too dangerous?
Dangerous enough. That's exactly why it'll help control the other barbarians. Imagine thousands of those ferocious bastards swearing loyalty to the imperial banner. How much deterrent would that have on the rest?
Rubiot smacked his lips.
If the imperial legions were still at full strength, if we could hold the border with our own power alone, we wouldn't even need this discussion.
But we were far too weakened. The army, battered by a long war and civil strife, couldn't cover the empire's vast borders.
We needed the help of those we'd once fought as enemies.
Still, they're greedy. Delay their gold even a little, and they'll stir up trouble.
Of course they will. But that's not our immediate worry. That's for the central government to handle. We're too busy fending off the barbarians right in front of us.
Rubiot agreed wholeheartedly on that point.
Over the meal, we decided to request troops from the Dane king.
With troop recruitment accelerating like this, I began reorganizing the shattered legions. First, I split the 16th Legion into four new ones.
Creating and reorganizing legions normally required the emperor's approval, but as Northern Army Commander responsible for the entire northern front, I didn't need permission for every detail.
The new legions were each built around two thousand legionnaires. I placed trusted comrades in command: Rubiot, Ershiang, Cogol, and Riti as legion commanders or deputies.
I redeployed the new legions along the northern border and granted each authority to recruit fresh personnel as needed.
Barbarians, slaves—it didn't matter. In just a month, thanks to my decisions, the Northern Field Army's strength began to recover.
The cost was astronomical.
I dispatched a messenger to the imperial government explaining the need for additional border defense funding.
But the response was unexpected.
Report to the capital at once.
They want me to come to the capital?
I read the emperor's personal letter and looked at the messenger.
Yes. His Majesty commanded it so.
If they're planning a triumph, they could save the money and send it to the legions instead.
I gave a wry smile.
Of course, I knew the emperor wasn't summoning me just for a parade.
This was likely a precautionary measure, wary of the immense influence I wielded over the entire Northern Army.
With the war over, a Northern Army Commander rivaling the emperor's stature was a burden to the imperial government.
They'd probably use the triumph as an excuse to call me in and abolish the position.
Of course, having someone rivaling the emperor within the empire isn't ideal. It's not right for the empire or the legions.
But if I said it didn't sting, I'd be lying.
I informed the messenger I'd return by the specified date.
Once I told the officers I was heading to the capital, they couldn't hide their dismay.
The border fortifications aren't even finished yet—why must you go, sir?
It's the emperor's decision.
This is too much. Who was it that put His Majesty on the throne?
Watch your words.
My apologies.
I was startled by how openly they voiced their discontent.
Perhaps that's exactly what worried the emperor enough to summon me.
If I kept commanding the Northern Army and racking up achievements, the legions along the Line and Drvina Rivers would become my private army.
One day, against my will, the soldiers might acclaim me emperor. That would spell disaster for both the empire and me.
I poured wine for the officers and soothed them: I'm going for something good. Don't be too upset.
After sending them off, I returned to my chambers to find Erenia waiting.
I tossed my cloak aside and sank into a chair.
What are you doing up so late?
Waiting excitedly after hearing you're heading to the capital, of course. Erenia propped her chin on the bed, her green eyes sparkling.
You're happy I'm going back?
Naturally. No woman hates trading a rough frontier for a beautiful, glittering city.
Didn't expect that. I figured this place would feel more familiar to you.
Erenia smiled with her eyes at my words.
It's true this place is familiar and comfortable. But that doesn't mean I don't yearn for a warm, splendid world. If I hadn't experienced it, maybe—but I've seen the empire's heartlands with you.
I shook my head at her wistful tone.
The capital's flashy, but it's rotten. Full of nauseating, corrupt scum. Plenty there will badmouth us behind our backs as lowborn peasants and barbarians. That doesn't bother you?
Erenia leaned her cheek on her hand and laughed.
That's commonplace even in tribal society. Bastards without inheritance rights, outsiders from wolf tribes—mocked and discriminated against. You see it everywhere. Honestly, it doesn't scare me. I've lived closer to axes swung in my face than poisoned words.
Fair enough.
I conceded. Erenia rarely showed fear.
Unless death itself loomed, her face wouldn't pale with terror.
And there's the throne there. Something you can't see out here. Erenia whispered. I shed my toga and lay on the bed.
The Northern Army Commander's position outranked even the Praetorian Prefect in practice. Controlling legions that could strike the imperial heart directly, I could become emperor if I wished.
My escort matched the emperor's: five hundred legionnaires close by, a thousand barbarian cavalry front and rear.
Even bandits would flee at the sight of our column's shadow.
As we descended the imperial road, local markets and notables showered us with welcomes.
Some brazenly offered bribes—and women—to curry favor, but I sternly refused.
Getting tangled with them would only create scandals for me.
A few days along the road, a woman dashed into our path upon seeing the procession.
The guards yanked her aside, but something about her desperate figure reminded me of Rica, so I halted them.
Hold.
The guards stopped, and she rushed forward, wailing.
Injustice! Your Imperial Majesty!
I was taken aback. My procession was grand, but emperor? I quickly corrected her.
I'm no emperor. I'm Legion Commander Ain of the Imperial Army.
She raised her voice, then gaped.
Y-You're not His Majesty?
She'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.
I gave a wry smile.
In the empire, people blocked the emperor's path during processions to plead grievances, as he represented the citizens as their foremost patron.
As the empire's highest judge in public matters, the emperor could redress wrongs.
Previous emperors—including Baccus—never left the capital except under attack, so few knew their appearance, leading to mix-ups like this.
Correct.
F-Forgive my rudeness.
She prostrated herself.
Forgiven. But why block my path?
She hesitated, then spoke.
Our taxes were too high, so my husband argued with the tax collector. And then...
They imprisoned him for disrupting official business?
Yes.
She nodded weakly. I could guess the rest without details. Common in imperial villages: corrupt tax officials and their contractors exploiting peasants.
I eyed her a moment, then asked.
Your name?
Valetchia.
Valetchia. A fine name. Children?
Six.
A true patriot of the empire.
I said it half in jest. Raising children in this era was no small feat—six was praiseworthy.
Th-Thank you.
She just bowed, missing the humor.
His Majesty wouldn't want people like you suffering. Rikius!
Yes, sir.
We'll overnight in this city. Send a rider ahead to prepare the magistrates and officials to receive me.
Yes, sir.
And you—come with us.
P-Pardon?
I'll see your problem resolved.
R-Really?
Her eyes widened.
Of course.
I was the empire's second-most powerful man, commander of an army that could seize the capital if I chose. Handling frontier bureaucrats was child's play.
Direct interference in personnel was the emperor's prerogative, but applying pressure? Easy.
As the second power, my mere breath could make them kneel.
I put Valetchia on my horse and rode to Cartin.
The city's magistrate and officials, stunned by my unannounced detour, rushed out and prostrated themselves beyond the walls. Still mounted, I looked down at the magistrate.
I am Northern Army Commander Ain. On my way here, I received a petition. May I pass it to you?
Of course. Speak it.
I relayed Valetchia's story verbatim. The magistrate flushed with rage and kicked the knee of a pot-bellied official beside him.
Quartermaster! How do you handle affairs that a commoner petitions the commander during his passage?
F-Forgive me.
Sorry doesn't cut it!
He kicked repeatedly; even watching hurt. I let the melodrama play out, then spoke.
Discipline your quartermaster later. I want to hear how you'll resolve this petition.
I-I'll summon the tax contractors tomorrow and reeducate them. Yes, it will be handled properly.
The quartermaster rubbed his sore knee, answering for the magistrate.
I nodded.
Good. I'll consider the petition resolved. Valetchia, was it?
Yes, sir.
I stake my honor it will be settled without issue. Go home and wait for your husband.
Thank you, sir.
She prostrated deeply.
I smiled, accepting her bow, then turned to the magistrate.
Having heard me invoke my honor, he'd never mishandle it.
That said, with the empire's tax system rotten to the core, one-off fixes by the powerful meant little.
Bitter reality.
I sent Valetchia off and settled into Cartin for the night.
(To be continued)