Chapter 9: The Land of the Eagles (1)
Though Anpianus had won an overwhelming victory in that great battle, his army failed to properly pursue the routed remnants.
In the course of the fighting, too many horses had been lamed, and squabbles over glory had broken out, so his forces hadn't budged an inch from the battlefield.
I led my soldiers on a cautious march south along sparsely populated border villages. Eventually, we reached Sian, the border city that had once prospered as the heart of the 16th Legion.
"Centurion Ain!"
The senior centurion Rober, left in command of the city's garrison, came rushing out beyond the walls in a panic.
He took one look at the legion's shrunken ranks and the soldiers' ragged appearance and seemed to sense defeat, but he clearly wanted the precise details from my own lips.
I explained the situation slowly and carefully.
"Impossible. Legion Commander Cassius dead, and the entire imperial army annihilated? That means we can't even hold the border, let alone suppress the rebels."
"Yes. Regrettable as it is, that's the reality."
Rober kept repeating "Impossible" at my reply.
No surprise there. If you hadn't seen those horrific battles with your own eyes, who could believe it? That proud legion, the empire's finest field army, crumbling so absurdly—who could've imagined?
I asked Rober to provide the men with water and food.
Leaving the soldiers in his care, I entered the city, and a few shrewd merchants approached me, probing for news.
But I told them nothing. Rober, as the man responsible for the city's defense, needed to know—but the merchants? No need, and no good would come of it.
If they started flapping their gums, panic would spread. The truth would filter out through the soldiers soon enough, but I didn't want immediate chaos. They could guess at it, sure.
Brushing them off, I arrived at Rica's door, and for some reason, my body felt heavier than a waterlogged sponge.
I knocked, and Rica—wearing a strikingly white toga today—came to greet me with a smile that froze. She saw the scars gouged into my armor, the bloodstains on my face, and instead of words, she simply drew my head to her chest.
"You must be exhausted."
"Yeah."
As I sank into her embrace, inexplicable tears welled up. I couldn't explain it, but the emotions just erupted.
Rica warmly accepted the unseemly breakdown of this grizzled soldier.
Once my feelings settled, I shared a light kiss with her and sat at her table.
"Dinner?"
"Anything you make is fine by me."
"Really?"
"You know I'm not just saying that."
She hummed happily and headed to the kitchen.
The heavy fatigue of the battlefield crashed over me; I propped my elbows on the table and buried my face.
As I dozed off briefly, a savory aroma wafted in.
Lifting my head, I saw Rica had set out the meal and was waiting.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"No need. You looked peaceful sleeping."
"Thanks."
I pulled her into a gentle hug. Her hair carried a sweet scent.
While I devoured every bite she'd prepared, she straightened the bed. I felt a twinge of guilt.
"Rica."
"Yes?"
"Can't stay tonight."
"Huh?"
Her eyes went wide. Whenever I came to her place, I'd always spend the night. She must've assumed it was a given.
But not tonight. With the imperial army shattered and the border teetering, I couldn't.
I'd only planned to see her face, head to headquarters, and talk with Rober—but here I was, having eaten too.
"Sorry."
Disappointment clouded her face.
Seeing that lovely expression twisted my heart.
Still, it was for her sake.
I kissed her and rose.
"Off to headquarters?"
"Yeah."
As I donned my helmet, she suddenly clutched my sleeve.
"Do you have to go?"
"What're you saying?"
"You... you almost died this time, didn't you?"
She must've guessed from my state. I felt even more sorry.
"Yeah. But a soldier has no choice."
"While you slept, a woman dropping off laundry said the legion collapsed. The army's pointless now. Just ditch it all and run away with me."
She showed a firmness I'd never seen.
"Can't do that."
"Even if I beg you?"
Her hand trembled, conveying her emotions fully.
I cupped her head in my thick hands and drew her to my chest.
"My love, the burden I carry isn't light."
"And me?"
"You're the heaviest weight on me. But I can't leave this place."
"Why not? You always said once you made enough money for success, you'd leave without regrets."
True enough.
She remembered my words.
But.
Women change; men do too. Once you awaken to inexplicable things like honor, conviction, duty... even the heaviest everyday burdens can be cast aside.
"I've changed."
"You don't want to leave with me?"
"Never. If you wanted, I'd rip out my heart and offer it."
She sobbed at my answer, knowing my resolve wouldn't waver.
I left her crying and departed.
Our talk severed the lingering hesitation in my heart once and for all.
I would serve as a soldier to the end.
I pushed aside Rica's sobs and entered headquarters.
Gloomy-faced centurions gathered in the command hall. The room, usually packed with over fifty men, now held fewer than ten—empty, desolate.
Rober, seated in the legion commander's chair, added to the gloom, hands pressed to his forehead.
To break the heavy mood, I spoke up.
"Commander Rober."
"Speak."
"How many soldiers remain in the city?"
"Including the ones you brought, under five hundred. Not even a quarter of the barbarians who hit the northeast Border Fortresses yesterday."
Only then did I grasp where those vanished barbarians had gone.
So that's why Creper rushed off without a word to us.
Word of a rear attack would've shaken morale.
I revised my view of Creper. He wasn't a poor commander; he'd done his textbook best within the info he had. The enemy general had simply outplayed him.
But Anpianus didn't seem that capable.
Suddenly, I recalled the face of the barbarian envoy who'd come to Cassius: Ronad, son of the Thunder Tribe chieftain. Looking back, that bastard had strolled calmly into our blood-frenzied ranks post-battle and said his piece.
No ordinary man. Any normal fool would've choked on the killing intent, stammered, and earned mockery.
A father raising such a son? Probably a hero in his own right.
Just a hunch, maybe.
Still, my gut screamed that Heigirt had orchestrated this war. Terrifying if true—a mere barbarian outmaneuvering imperial generals.
A man like that would have grand ambitions.
My chest tightened.
"Then the barbarians who swept the Border Fortresses might target this place next."
Rubiot, who'd been listening, spoke up.
Rober nodded.
"Likely. No—certainly. In the 16th Legion's territory, the only worthwhile plunder is right here in Sian."
True. Sian held the legion's supplies, civilians, everything. Raiding every other fortress wouldn't yield a fraction of this.
No way the barbarians would pass it by.
I bit my lip.
Couldn't allow it. Sian housed Rica, the woman I had to protect, and the honor of my legion comrades. Let those mongrel bastards set foot here?
"The problem's manpower. Even if just the ones from the northeast forts come, we can't hold Sian. Not enough to man the walls—the fortress might as well not exist."
Every centurion knew it, even without Rober saying. The fortress was built to hold with at least three thousand.
I licked my dry lips.
"Then we gather forces."
"How?"
"No other way. Recall everyone from the Border Fortresses, all auxiliaries too, to Sian."
"Abandoning the forts means the border—"
"The border's already fallen. The moment the legion did."
The centurions closed their eyes. Rober knew it too; that's why he hadn't ordered it.
But issuing the command wasn't easy. Withdrawing from the forts symbolized the empire abandoning the border. Who among soldiers could decide that lightly?
Rober sighed deeply.
"You're right. Worrying about the border when Sian's at risk? I've lost touch with reality. Recall all fortress troops. But the auxiliaries..."
I knew. Hard to trust them.
But they were volunteers who'd joined the imperial army, willingly turning blades on their kin to fight as allies. If we couldn't trust them, how to win more?
I pounded my chest with a fist.
"No troops? We all die. If the auxiliaries betray us, take my head."
Rober gave a bitter smile.
"Very well. It won't fill the ranks, but we won't collapse outright."
Then one centurion raised his hand.
"Garin? Speak."
"Since we're past caring, one more idea."
"Out with it."
"Request allied troops from the barbarians."
"Barbarian support?"
Not impossible. We'd pulled barbarian allies into wars before, officially classed as auxiliaries.
"Four of us centurions here have commanded forts. Bound to have ties to a chieftain or two. You know from experience—they're hard to handle, but once honor's pledged, they mostly keep their word."
"That was when the empire was strong. No guarantee now, in our weakness."
Rober said.
"Then I'll stake my neck too."
"Why's everyone so eager to wager their heads?"
Garin chuckled dryly.
"Young Ain, with twenty fewer years than me, stakes his for reinforcements. What's an old man's neck worth, days from the grave? I'll take responsibility. Request barbarian aid."
Rober looked troubled. Auxiliaries he could swallow, but raw barbarians? Unpredictable.
Still, couldn't ignore Garin—a officer risking his life on the proposal.
Unable to decide, he called for a centurion vote.
(To be continued next time)