The Lion of Antica (4)
Ersia halted their assault, likely realizing our defenses were tougher than expected.
Perhaps they had anticipated crumbling our walls slowly with their catapults and taking the city with minimal bloodshed, only to suffer unexpected losses that forced a strategic rethink.
Truth be told, from Shapur's perspective, the imperial reinforcements from the west were a far greater concern than Antica itself.
Once those western forces were shattered, Antica would fall as a mere afterthought. It was only natural to begrudge diverting troops here for it.
Yet completely ignoring us was another problem entirely. Leaving Antica untouched would bolster the supply lines for the imperial army advancing from the west. And we couldn't dismiss the city's own garrison.
So Shapur had plenty to ponder.
Still, his indecision won't drag on.
He was sharp enough to seize the initiative by striking our flank strategically. A man like that wouldn't waver for long.
Or maybe he was scheming some easy way to breach our defenses.
I ordered the wall sentries to stand down and distributed rations of salt, water, and thin gruel.
I wanted to feast the men after such fierce fighting, but a full belly would spell doom if the enemy attacked again.
While they ate, I perched on the wall battlements and took a swig from a soldier's waterskin.
I had torches lit and assigned only a skeleton watch. A night raid was possible, but keeping the whole force on the walls all night would collapse us from exhaustion before the day was out.
"Good work, all of you."
"Yes, sir!"
I clapped shoulders as I went, then descended the wall. Heading leisurely toward the gate for a brief rest, I heard wings cutting through the dark night sky—whoosh.
Birds rarely flew at this hour, so it piqued my curiosity.
"What bird is that?"
"Pigeon, I think."
"Pigeon? Like a chicken?"
"Tastes about the same, from what I hear."
Rikius quipped lightly.
We sat by the gate and made do with late supper of porridge boiled by the guards. I missed a warm, soft bed, but I couldn't rest easy while my men suffered.
I heated a stone by the fire, laid it on the ground, and curled up like a shrimp for sleep.
Antica's nights were brutally cold with the wild temperature swings.
I shivered, wrapping my cloak tight like a blanket.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The rooster's dawn cry jolted me from fitful sleep. I'd woken several times before sunrise, so I felt unrested despite the hours.
I forced my stiff body up.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning. Quiet night?"
"Yes, sir. No unusual activity."
I smirked at the officer's report.
"Looks like Shapur saw our resolve and got cautious."
The officer bellowed a laugh.
Arms folded behind my back, I climbed the wall. The enemy camp looked much the same as yesterday—no signs of major movement.
Buying us more time?
But that did them no favors.
They needed to either storm the city or pin us with a token force and push deeper inland. Establishing more gains before time ran out would benefit Ersia.
This dithering didn't match the thorough dominance Shapur had shown so far in the war.
Or maybe they're plotting something.
To counter possible tunnels, I posted watchers along the southern wall too.
East was gravel-strewn, north and west were endless sand mires—south was their only tunneling option.
I suspected tunnels were likely, but saw scant evidence.
Digging them required masses of men, and no such stirrings showed in their camp.
So what were they after?
My mind grew tangled.
Three days into the siege, Ersia hadn't launched a proper assault since their first probe. They'd even skipped the routine feints.
Considering their king had led the attack personally, this stagnation made no sense.
The men had grown casual enough to joke with the enemy horde at our gates, but it only heightened my tension.
There had to be a reason for the enemy's silence.
They're up to something.
After much deliberation, I turned my gaze inward to the city.
Antica, prosperous trading hub, held massive stakes in eastern commerce. Countless Ersian merchants made it their destination or home.
Which meant plenty of potential collaborators lurked within.
I'd dismissed the risk at first—citizens cut off by towering walls couldn't easily aid the foe.
But the enemy's quiet forced me to reconsider. If they were waiting for insiders to expose our weaknesses, it explained the eerie hush.
"Rikius!"
"Yes, sir."
"We need to scour the city. Feels like Ersia's biding their time for something. Find out what. Start with suspects.
Target Ersian residents and merchants—anyone tied to them. Dig deep. I'll handle any backlash."
"Understood. We'll investigate thoroughly."
Rikius saluted crisply.
He mobilized Praetorian Guards unfamiliar with Antica and Egyptian auxiliaries to probe the suspects.
They cordoned off districts and ransacked homes wholesale.
The sweep uncovered several with suspicious ties: merchants hoarding pigeons.
Officers confirmed pigeons could carry messages via homing instinct.
Rikius found charred parchment scraps in their homes, scrawled with clear Ersian script.
By imperial law, I branded them traitors and authorized torture.
While torture of civilians was strictly banned, traitors were exempt.
Rikius readied the infamous Eastern tub: they locked the men in, heads protruding, then poured in honey and milk.
Ants from nearby swarmed in, lured by the sweets, gnashing with eager mandibles.
"We... we'll confess everything!"
The merchants screamed as flesh tore from their living bodies, spilling the truth.
In mere minutes, I grasped Shapur's full scheme.
Ersia's plan was this:
King Shapur expected catapults to take Antica bloodlessly but got outmaneuvered by ours.
They laid siege, but our stubborn resistance and heavy losses forced a pause.
A frontal assault could win, but loath to waste troops, Shapur turned to insiders for a coup de grâce.
Pre-planted merchants got pigeons pre-war: undermine the lightly guarded north wall's supports.
On cue, they'd strike as the wall crumbled.
But the plot hit a snag.
The merchants couldn't muster enough men to neutralize the passage guards under the north wall.
My blanket conscription ironically crippled their inside job.
They delayed, and I nabbed them.
I grinned at the merchants.
"Excellent. Cooperate with the empire, and I guarantee your lives. Positions and honors too."
They lifted trembling heads from mere survival pleas.
"P-positions and honors?"
"Indeed. How about imperial bureaucracy?"
They eyed each other, then nodded frantically.
"We're grateful just to live, but offices too? We'll pledge our lives to the empire."
"Good. Here's the deal."
My orders were simple: fake reports to Shapur. They saw it was feasible.
"Feasible?"
"We'll do it."
"Perfect."
I had them cleaned and reclothed, then quizzed on other spies.
Fully committed now, they spilled everything.
Their leads netted ten more Ersian agents tasked with arson and chaos once the army breached.
With them gone, Shapur's inside network collapsed.
Via the merchants, I fed Shapur lies: they'd bribed the north passage captain, mission imminent.
"To His Majesty: Under pretext of wall support repairs, we can soon smuggle men inside."
And.
"I trust you."
I clenched my fist at the pigeon's terse reply.
Got him!
This buys at least a week. In a war where days outvalue lives, that's victory.
Hard to believe Shapur—master of exploiting Eastern Army gaps—fell for such a simple ruse.
But on reflection, it wasn't laughable.
It proved he valued his soldiers' lives, treating them preciously.
What loyalty such a king inspires—what respect, reverence?
The thought chilled me.
I prayed the northern eagles would descend soon to ease that dread.
For days, our deception held; Shapur showed no stir.
Relieved, I kept the merchants feeding "progress" reports daily.
But tricks don't last forever.
Five days after faking to the enemy king, a chilling missive arrived.
"Clever prank. Thanks for the rest."
I swallowed hard at the night pigeon's note.
Shapur saw through it.
No surprise from such a shrewd mind. I'd hoped for a full week.
I crumpled the parchment.
Bwoooo!
Horns blared, signaling attack—as if on cue.
I tossed the scrap and stood.
"Rikius. Time for our final play."
"Your orders, sir."
"Prepare to collapse the wall supports."
"Sir?"
"This assault will be hard to repel."
"But the wall—"
"Ends us. Yet have we bled them enough to just hand over an imperial city?"
Rikius smiled bitterly.
"An eagle's last stand it is."
"Die with honor. Go."
He saluted and ran.
I donned my cloak and ascended. Antica's final battle awaited.
(To be continued)