Chapter 15: Large-Scale Battle
Chapter 15: Large-Scale Battle
To prepare for the coming large-scale battle, General Comazon held continuous strategy meetings with his officers.
A large map lay spread across the table, with the terrain of Germania and the enemy’s expected invasion routes marked in red.
Comazon tapped a point on the map.
“This is where they are most likely to cross the river. The current is weaker and the river narrower here.”
“How should we proceed with the defenses?” a centurion asked.
“First, reinforce the walls—especially the right flank, which is weakest. Reposition the ballistae so they can be used to maximum effect, and stockpile arrows and javelins.”
He continued issuing orders.
“And dig traps along the riverbank. Use stakes and stone obstacles to slow their advance.”
After the meeting ended, the entire fortress burst into activity.
In the smithies, bellows roared day and night. Blacksmiths sharpened blades, repaired armor, and forged arrowheads as sparks flew and hammers rang rhythmically.
Carpenters repaired shields and ladders while constructing wooden barricades for the walls. Sawing and hammering echoed throughout the fortress.
Young soldiers hauled dirt, stacked stones, and dug traps, sweating endlessly under heavy labor.
Supply officers combed through warehouses, inspecting food and materials.
“Three thousand arrows, five hundred javelins, and enough bandages and herbs for medical use!”
Medics prepared field hospitals, laying out clean cloth, boiling water, sterilizing knives and needles, and even practicing stitching wounds. They were preparing for heavy casualties.
After the meeting, General Comazon came to see me and assigned an important task.
“Varius, I’m placing one hundred men under your command on the right flank.” His gaze was serious. “Most of them are veterans, and they recognize your ability. Have confidence.”
“Thank you, General. I’ll do my best.”
“The right side of the wall is weakest. The enemy will likely concentrate their attack there. You must hold it.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s a heavy responsibility, but you can do it.”
As soon as he left, I assembled the hundred soldiers I would command.
They came from everywhere—Italy, Gaul, Hispania, and even a few from Syria. But all were united as Roman legionaries.
“I am Varius. For the next ten days, we prepare and fight together.” I looked at them one by one. “Introduce yourselves. Name and specialty.”
The introductions followed.
Quintus excelled in archery. Titus could hit targets fifty meters away with javelins. Gaius, the Gallic tracker from our scouting mission, was also a master in close combat. David from Syria was skilled with the sword.
“Good. We’ll fight using each man’s strengths.” I nodded at them. “From now on, we train together, eat together, and learn to trust each other. On the battlefield, trust is everything.”
From the next day onward, intense training began.
We rose before dawn and marched fully armed around the fortress twice. Even after everything I’d been through, my twelve-year-old body still lagged behind the veterans.
Mornings were spent drilling formations—testudo, wedge, circular defense—again and again. At first coordination faltered, but by the third day our movements grew unified.
“Shield wall!” At my command, shields snapped together into a solid barrier.
“Again!”
Afternoons were devoted to combat simulations. Half attacked while the other half defended the walls. At first defenses collapsed easily, but within days, the defensive lines became difficult to breach.
Evenings were spent eating together—barley porridge, bread, and sometimes meat.
Stories were shared.
“You’re still young, commander, and didn’t have much experience before, but you’ve improved incredibly fast. What’s your secret?” Titus asked.
“It’s thanks to all of you,” I answered honestly. “When I first came here, I was clumsy. But after repeated battles, the body starts to understand. Fear fades.”
“Can we trust you with our lives, commander?” veteran centurion Gaius asked.
“Of course.” I met his eyes. “You are the finest warriors. I trust you—and I’ll do everything I can to earn your trust.”
That night, the atmosphere changed. Not hierarchy, but camaraderie began to form.
On the tenth day, final inspections took place at dawn.
Comazon personally checked every position. “Ballistae status?”
“Perfect, General. Accurate beyond one hundred meters.”
“Arrow stock?”
“Five thousand ready. Enough for a full day.”
“Medical preparations?”
“Three field hospitals operational. Thirty medics on standby.”
Everything was ready. All that remained was waiting.
That night, as I lay awake in the barracks, Comazon visited.
“Tomorrow, Varius.”
“Yes, General. I’m ready.”
“I’ve watched your unit. Ten days ago they were scattered. Now they move like a single fist.”
“They followed well.”
“No—your leadership did that.” He smiled.
“We’ll fight together, General.”
“For Rome’s glory.”
At dawn, alarms sounded from the watchtower.
“Enemy sighted across the river!”
I rushed to the walls in armor.
Germanic warriors began emerging from the forests across the Rhine.
Their numbers… far exceeded expectations.
At least five hundred.
“Damn it, that’s far more than we estimated,” Comazon muttered.
“But we have the fortress. Hold defensive positions and we win.”
Across the river, the Germanic tribes began their war ritual. Drums thundered through the valley. “Wōden! Wōden! Wōden!”
“Legionaries of Rome!” Comazon shouted. “They have numbers but no discipline! We are the Empire’s elite! Today we defend the boundary between civilization and barbarism!”
“ROMA INVICTA!” The soldiers roared. My heart pounded, but fear was gone.
By noon, the tribes began crossing the Rhine using makeshift rafts and timber bridges.
The first wave numbered around 150.
“Archers, ready!”
Roman bowstrings tightened.
When the enemy reached midstream—
“Fire!”
Arrows darkened the sky, raining onto the crossing warriors. Screams erupted as many fell into the river.
But they kept coming, shields raised.
Soon the first group reached the bank.
“Javelins, throw!”
Pila smashed into shields and armor, yet the attackers pressed on.
“Gate defense!”
Close combat erupted at the gates—axes against gladii, metal crashing, blood spraying.
I watched from the right wall. My unit’s moment had not yet come.
Then the second wave began crossing—over two hundred this time.
Arrow supplies began to run low.
“Arrow stocks are running out!” a supply officer reported.
Worse still, the enemy discovered the weak point on the right wall. Ladders and ropes appeared as they began climbing.
“Varius! Hold the right flank!” Comazon shouted. “Follow me!”
I led my hundred men into position.
As a Germanic warrior climbed over, I slammed him back with my shield. He fell screaming.
But more kept coming.
“Shield wall!”
Our soldiers locked shields into a defensive line. Each enemy who climbed up met our blades.
The wall became chaos. They climbed endlessly, and we fought desperately for every step.
A massive warrior nearly two meters tall charged me.
His axe crashed down. I blocked with my shield—the impact shook my entire body.
Stay calm. Trust experience.
I ducked low and stabbed his leg. He staggered.
A second thrust slipped through armor gaps. The giant collapsed.
No time to rest. Another enemy came. Then another.
I blocked, countered, supported allies. My body moved on instinct, molded by countless battles.
“Commander! Behind you!” Quintus shouted.
I spun, blocking an incoming strike while Quintus stabbed the attacker’s side.
We saved each other again and again.
In this hell, what kept us moving was simple—The instinct to save comrades and survive.
After an hour, the enemy assault weakened. They were exhausted.
“Now! Counterattack!” Comazon ordered.
I raised my sword.
“Advance! Drive them back to the river!”
Defense turned into offense. The disciplined Roman legions pressed forward in testudo formation.
The exhausted attackers faltered under the organized push.
“Press them!” I shouted, charging ahead.
We descended from the walls and fought on open ground. Gradually, the enemy retreated.
Then—Titus, fighting beside me, was pierced by a spear.
He collapsed.
“Titus!”
I tried lifting him.
“Commander… I’m… fine… keep fighting…”
He coughed blood.
“Medic!” I shouted, but none were nearby.