Note from Kanuro5: So I was hit by the inspiration stick and somehow churned out this chapter very quickly in basically a week. Again, timing just worked out for me to write this chapter. Other chapters will be inconsistent, but do know I am working on them. Please enjoy!
XV
Contact
The next morning was a cloudy affair. It provided a relief from the heat as the cavalry column galloped down the road trying to outpace the mercenary marauders. Again, Vitus and Marcus were leading the column, with their personal retinue behind them. Vitus could feel the stares of his wards behind him, they were blazing like molten daggers.
Last night, they returned to the group with their hands and arms coated in blood. Their eyes were filled with horror, especially those of Domitius, whose gaze extended out into the distance for a hundred meters. Labienus' glare was sharper and more directed at Vitus, yet the boy said nothing to him. And he didn't have to, those eyes of resent spoke for him. And yet, both boys still ate from the animal they slaughtered, albeit slowly.
"Those boys of yours are rather quiet, Germanicus." Marcus remarked.
"Indeed, but they are well fed, only a matter of time before they shall be blooded."
"That's the spirit," Marcus smirked. "Now we must find the vagabonds so we may be blood—"
Both of Marcus' scouts came galloping back at full speed. They stopped sharply and saluted, "Equestris, we spotted several horsemen approaching from a valley. There were about ten, they came to the valley, then retreated. We followed them from on top of the hill and we spotted many horsemen approaching!"
"Truly?! Where are they coming from?"
"They are passing by a valley, flanked between two hills."
"How many?"
"Uh… it was a multitude, definitely over a hundred, but no more than four hundred. That is our best estimate."
"Are they currently in the valley now?"
"Yes! And we know where they're going to go!"
"Excellent! You lead us to the best spot for the ambush!"
Equestris turned back to Germanicus, "Fortuna provides as I was about to say."
The Roman cavalry followed the scouts as they galloped through the land until they came upon an arid U-shape valley with an opening near the top of a defile. The Brutii horsemen were positioned on the top of a hill that sloped downward to the bottom of the valley. The top of the hill was filled with trees while the slope and valley was dirt dry. The scouts ensured Brutus Equestris that they estimated it would take the mercenaries ten minutes before they arrived at this spot in the valley.
The leaders of the Roman cavalry dismounted and crept to the edge of the valley to survey the landscape behind a large tree.
Germanicus patted Equestris' arm, "How many men did your scouts say they spotted?"
"From their reports they estimate the size is above a hundred, but below four hundred."
"This cannot be their entire force for this mercenary group."
"Most like it is not. This is just the screen for their infantry, these are scouts who pillage and reinforce the army with their plunder. Their infantry most likely is somewhere else."
"Do you believe we can ensnare them all, Equestris?"
"It's impossible to ensnare an entire force of cavalry. They most likely have scouts that are far and away from the main contingent. Once we assault these mercenaries, the main army shall know. But damn… thank the Gods for this land right here, this is a prime spot for an ambush. They cross the valley and we come down and hammer them hard." Equestris was smirking, this was exciting him.
Germanicus rubbed his jaw, "Once we attack here, we are committed."
Brutus Equestris scoffed lightheartedly, "Oh we were committed the moment we left Athens."
Brutus Equestris whistled for his decurions. Once the three of them arrived, the Governor of Athens crouched into the dirt and began drawing formations with a broken tree branch.
"Listen clearly, the scouts have reported that the size of these marauders are below four hundred, so let us average it out to 250. No… let us keep it 400 for the worst-case scenario. So, we have a column of nearly four hundred horsemen moving down between this valley. They seemingly have no scouts on the wings or at least their scouts are farther ahead and out of sight. We shall allow them to move down into the valley until their exposed at the center of the formation. We're attacking with the entire squadron of our light cavalry. I shall attack the center in a wedge with about fifty riders accompanying me."
"Fifty against four hundred?" Germanicus asked.
Brutus scooped up the dirt in his hand and threw it into the wind. He continued, "There's a lot of dust on the downward slope and that'll screen our numbers. If they assume only fifty riders are targeting them, then they shall commit to battle. I want them all. We dare not allow a single rider to escape."
Germanicus nodded, "Understood. What else?"
Brutus went back to the formation in the dirt, "As I'm leading the wedge, Lucceius, you shall take two hundred horses and ride fifty paces behind us. You shall split the column completely with the shock of your charge, right down the center."
"I understand, Equestris," the Roman replied.
"You shall be riding with dust in your eyes. I trust that you can keep the formation intact, Lucceius?"
"You can trust me, Equestris."
"I know. All right, then. Serapia, you'll take a third of the cavalry and race to the front of the column in a wide envelopment. Your squadron shall form a dust cloud that completely envelops them, and you ensure that none of these bastards escape."
"I shall not fail, Equestris."
"Vardanes, you'll take the remaining cavalry and envelop the rear column. Your purpose shall be the same as Serapia's, blind them with dust and ensure no one escapes."
"Your will, Equestris."
Brutus Equestris looked up to Germanicus. "Julius Germanicus, if my stratagem succeeds, then not one of those horsemen shall escape. But of course, no stratagem ever succeeds absolutely all the time."
He nodded, "Of course."
"So, you and your cavalry shall be in reserve on this hill, Germanicus. My squadron shall be in the thick of the dust and fighting, you shall be able to see all from up here. If any mercenaries break free from the encirclement and try to encircle us, then you come down and stop them."
Sound strategy, he clearly knows the importance of terrain and a cavalry reserve. "That sounds fine by me."
Brutus Equestris nodded confidently at him. The Governor stood to his feet and looked to his three captains, "We must be quick, they shall be here within minutes. And recall this, I shall lead the assault first. Lucceius, you count to ten, then follow me with the shock cavalry. Vardanes, Serapia, you two count to twenty, then lead your squadrons to envelop. Everyone, get ready!"
The three decurions saluted their commander and dashed to relay the orders.
Equestris brushed the dust off his hands with an exhale, "You have seen numerous battles, Germanicus, and I have heard of your exploits…"
Vitus smirked, "I promise not to disappoint."
"That's what I desire to hear."
"What of Demetrius?"
"I shall have him stay on the hill with the medicus, he may overlook the battle and see us victorious."
"May Fortuna favor us, Brutus."
"May she favor us indeed, Julius."
Vitus stood tall on his stallion at the front of his cavalry, hidden among the trees at the crest of the hill. His cavalry of 32 men were patiently waiting behind him in silence. The 500 strong Brutii cavalry column had diverged into a neat line formation. Serapia was at the extreme left as she was to flank the front, Vitus was to the right her and in reserve, Equestris and Lucceius were in the center, and Vardanes was at the extreme right to flank the rear. Vitus' hands were gripping the reins tight. This feeling… of waiting for the enemy… it feels like ages since the last battle… and this feeling of… joy…
Down the valley at the mouth of the entrance, they witnessed the horsemen arriving. They came through as a horde. They were clustered together in a tight column, their horses about a meter apart from one another. They trotted through the valley; songs of pride echoed off the hills. They were moving as if on a leisurely stroll. From on top the hill, their uniforms seemed to vary from the colors of green, yellow, grey, and black, with different styles such as Thracian, Corinthian, Cretan, Scythian, and many more. Their numbers in the column kept swelling, easily surpassing over two hundred. Vitus figured it was accurate for Equestris to number them four hundred.
Domitius asked openly, "They ride five horses deep in a column, why are they so clustered?"
"Best to move in a compact column to avoid being spotted long distances if the column is spaced, I suppose." Labienus answered. "Yet, the ranks themselves are thick."
Vitus smirked. He was glad that the boys were now speaking. He's right… it will be more difficult for Equestris to break through their line with light cavalry alone. But then again, I shall finally see why he is called, "The Green Centaur".
To his right, Vitus spotted Equestris at the rim of the incline, his eyes piercing down on these rapacious raiders as a bird of prey eyes its meal. The fifty men of his light cavalry had already formed up into a wedge formation behind their leader, they were all armed with spears and light oval shields.
Equestris waited, until the very moment the middle of the column was going to pass by. He drew his sword and looked back to his men, "Ride with me! Ride with me!"
No other words had to be spoken. He already held expectations of what they had to achieve.
Equestris beckoned his mount forward with a shout, and the mare intrepidly moved downhill at a slow gait, then began to pick up speed as it became surer of its footing. Equestris' light cavalry followed behind him faithfully.
From the far left, Vitus witnessed the charging cavalry at an angle. Despite rushing downhill, the Green Centaur's horsemen were skilled, none of the horses tripped and they maintained good cohesion. Their trampling hooves were raising a thick cloud of dust in their trails. The decline was beginning to even out more near the bottom, allowing the charge to gain momentum. Halfway down the hill, the Roman cavalry unleashed a war cry that reminded Vitus of the barbarians he was so accustomed to fighting.
The mercenary column of horses stopped their marching. They were bellowing orders, fixing their columns into battle formation. It seemed that every horseman was readying for battle, utterly convinced that this attack by a Roman was actually a suicidal brigand assault.
Once Equestris' horses were halfway down the hill, the Roman Lucceius moved his cavalry up to the peak, raised his sword and charged after Equestris. "Follow Equestris, follow him to victory!"
In a wedge with Lucceius at the point, his cavalry unit of over two hundred, galloped down the hill, the dust cloud was their cloak of invisibility. Through this cloud, they maintained cohesion, until halfway down when Lucceius told them to shift formation from a wedge to a line.
At that moment, Serapia shouted her orders, "If you call yourselves men, follow me into battle!" Her horsemen grunted thrice and followed their decurion as she slanted down the hill in a 45-degree angle, streams of dust were rising from behind them. Halfway down the slope, Serapia' cavalry curved like a fishhook to wrap around the front of the mercenaries.
Some of the mercenaries saw what was happening, how the snare was being tightened around their throats. From the initial smoke cloud that came from 50 horsemen, these mercenaries suddenly witnessed hundreds of horses emerging from the dust and galloping down the hill, hollering war cries of vengeance. Several of the raiders started breaking immediately, rushing away from the battle to escape this upcoming valley of death. But it was too late for them, the flanking light cavalry had already encircled them completely.
The Roman cavalry crashed into the mercenary cavalry with the thunder of Jupiter's bolts. Multitudes of horse cries, clashing steel, and shouting reverberated out from the valley. From his spot, Vitus could witness the small speck that was Equestris, hacking his way through the enemy horsemen. Then the cavalry of Lucceius slammed into the main mercenary column, some of its elements puncturing through the mercs.
Vardanes' rear element had enveloped the rear column neatly and attacked them from seemingly all sides, cutting off all avenues of escape to the rear. Serapia's lead cavalry swathed the lead elements, her cavalry crashing into this cruel caravan of death. The only armed cavalry left on the hill belonged to Germanicus.
This savage equine fighting had continued on for five, maybe ten minutes. The green horsemen of the Brutii had blended in with the green and black mercenaries, and the thick cloud of dust had settled firmly around the battlefield. From the height of the hill, even Vitus' experienced eyes could not differentiate friend from foe, as random horses jutted out of the dirt cloud to gallop in every which way.
Germanicus could hear his wards talking behind him. Domitius tried to whisper to Labienus, "Uh, Labienus… uh, do you know what is happening down there?"
Labienus shook his head with a parted mouth, "No idea."
"I mean, they're all wearing green."
"And that cloud of dust…"
Germanicus turned around to face them, "That, is a real battlefield."
Labienus looked at him, no longer was there a gaze of hate, but a stare of battle-anxiety, "It is utter chaos."
"Yes, it would be strange if it were not. Your responsibility shall be to navigate through the chaos, to keep a level head through the peril and to keep your wits about you. It is overwhelming the first time, but you do grow accustomed to it."
"Germanicus! To the left!" Ardunas pointed out.
Germanicus could see it. The line where Serapia's cavalry was holding them had a gap that scores of mercenaries were funneling out of. It was the way they moved that he knew they were foes; it wasn't a Roman maneuver. They breached the gap in the line and were wheeling around to seemingly deliver a charge of their own on Serapia's exposed flank.
His hand trembled briefly, "This is it!" He grabbed the hilt of his sword and felt the Thracian Prince through the hilt. "Form a wedge, on me! Labienus, you stay behind me on my left! Domitius, you stay behind me to my right! Do not veer from instructions, understand?"
"Ye-Yes, we do!"
His men promptly guided their horses in formations, their weapons were drawn. The Thracians armed with spears, whilst the Gauls were armed with gladii. His two wards had their swords drawn, their faces were hollow, and beads of sweat were falling down their cheeks. Germanicus thought back to his father.
Father, I ask you to grant me your strength… "On me!" the Legatus shouted.
Germanicus got Romulus to go down the hill at a trot, and within five seconds, he gradually picked up speed. He looked behind himself to see if the formation was still retained, his veterans were doing a great job, the wards awkwardly tried to get their horses back in formation, but they were still moving in the general direction.
It wracked his nerves that he was charging into the thick of a battle that he was not in control of against an enemy he never faced. But Germanicus did feel comfort in knowing this, the Romans had more men than these brigands.
As they galloped further, the sounds of battle were growing. The clangs of steel and the shrieks of horses were crescendoing into a deafening storm.
The dust cloud was being kicked up by the horses with intensity. A novice rider would be frightened, an adept rider would have to memorize where he was leading the horse, and the Julii never trained novices.
They were closing in on the mercenaries outside the gap. There was a tall mercenary on his horse with a Corinthian helmet who alerted the rest of the cavalry at the surprise attack. The Julii cavalry were already on top of them. Germanicus leaned to the side and swung hard, the merc's throat ripped opened in a bloody fashion. He shifted to the opposite side, hacking down on an opposed neck of a shirtless mercenary. Romulus whinnied sharply, forcing his way through the other horses and chaos around him. Germanicus could hear from the hollow tinging in his helmet that his men were right behind him and they busted through successfully.
Many of the mercenaries' horses fell to the dirt from the sudden impact, few of the fallen mercenaries got back up. The sheer size of the battle in such a confined space had stopped their momentum. The dust had caught up to them and rose to the riders' level.
Germanicus snapped his neck to the left; an enemy rider had tossed something at him. A javelin soared two feet past Vitus' torso. His heart jumped. He didn't dodge at all; the rider had just missed due to the thick dust. He mushed Romulus forward to kill that man. Germanicus and the rider exchanged strikes and blocks with their blades until Germanicus wheeled back in his seat and shot forward with speed, thrusting his blade through the man's chest.
Dismounted mercenaries were rushing towards Germanicus' cavalry, these men were armored as eastern warriors, with cloth wrapping around their faces and large sickle weapons in their hands. They moved to the Thracian horses and hacked at the legs of the horses. Two of the Thracians' horses reared and bucked in agony before collapsing to the dirt, the Thracian riders fell with them.
"Watch the footman!" Germanicus ordered. "Protect your horses!"
"Germanicus!" The Julii general recognized the voice.
"Domitius?!" he spun around to the sound of his ward.
He was pleading, "Germanicus! Help me!" Through the dust, two dismounted mercenaries had wrapped their arms around Domitius' waist and sword arm and were struggling to pull him out the saddle. The battle was too thick for Germanicus to personally intervene.
"Domitius!" he called out to his ward.
The sixteen-year-old was screaming as they pulled him off his horse and threw him onto the ground. Domitius' horse galloped away. The mercenaries and the boy disappeared within the dust.
"NO!" Gods no! I need to—
A horseman came at Germanicus with a raised sword in the air. But Ligadis intervened, mushing his horse in the way, and driving his spear through the mercenary's chest. He retracted the polearm and shouted to his commander, "Focus, now! Do not be distracted."
"Ligadis, help me! They snatched Domitius, he needs assistance! Follow me!"
With three horsemen, Germanicus forced his way through the dust to where he last saw Domitius. To his surprise, he came upon this sight. Domitius was fighting against two mercenaries brandishing spears. They were jabbing wildly at him from a distance, but Domitius was swatting away the spearheads with his gladius. Through the dust, Germanicus witnessed this young man's eyes. It was that of a cornered animal, full of fear and anger.
Out of the cloud of dirt, Labienus was riding for Domitius, galloping behind the backs of the spearmen. His eyes had the mixture of terror and excitement. Directly behind one of the mercenaries, Labienus raised his gladius high and brought it down with a warrior's scream. The edge of the blade hacked into the back of one of the spearman's neck, severing the cervical spine. The now dead man collapsed limply into the dirt. His partner was surprised and turned away from Domitius, allowing Domitius to swat the spear away and move past the spearman's guard.
The spearmen dropped his spear on instinct once Domitius got past his weapon. The mercenary quickly went for his sword on his waist. He swung it at the teenager as he drew it from its scabbard. Domitius was shorter than him, and quicker. Domitius ducked the swinging steel, and still moving forward, sprang off his feet with a roar to lunge his sword through the mercenary's throat. The mercenary fell on his back, gurgling on his blood. Domitius was still holding on through the sword as his opponent fell; once the men was spasming in the dirt, Domitius retracted the sword, then buried it into his foe's heart with bared teeth and a shout.
A horseman wearing Greek armor came at Labienus and the two engaged in a brief mounted duel. But Labienus, acting quickly, took his sword and sliced the ear off of the brigand's horse. The horse bucked violently, toppling the rider off, then galloping away. As the rider laid on his back, stunned; Labienus reared his horse back on his hind legs. As the front legs of the horse came down, the hoof crashed through the face of the rider, turning his face into red pulp. Labienus gave a short grunt, then turned to his next opponent.
The pride that Germanicus felt in his chest at that moment for these two young men… But he quickly regained himself, there was still a battle to be won.
The sounds of the fighting was dying down around his area, yet the smoke was still thick. Ardunas slashed a rider's throat out with his sword, next to him, Ligadis impaled a footman in the torso with his spear. As both men fell, Germanicus ordered his men to keep fighting.
Germanicus took a quick count of about twenty dismounted men wielding swords, huddled together in a defensive circle, absent shields. They were rather solid in that defense; casualties would rise if the Romans charged. Germanicus ordered his men to surround the twenty in a prompt trot. He pointed his sword at them and glared.
"Lower your weapons!" Germanicus bellowed in Latin. He then recalled who he was most likely addressing. He said it again, this time in Greek, "Lower your weapons! Lower them now! Lower your weapons and surrender!"
The mercenaries were panting for much needed air. They eyed the cavalry surrounding them, their grips around their weapons began to loosen. They began falling from their hands, one-by-one.
The dismounted Domitius had his blade still pointed at them, but he turned to the mounted Labienus. Both wards were gasping in surprised excitement as the area's volume began to descend. Domitius asked his partner, "It is over? H-Have we won?"
Germanicus looked to them with a smirk, "Yes, we won."
The dust was gone, its only remnant was glued to the sweaty flesh and clothing of both armies. Vitus' auburn hair was a bright orange by the time the battle was over, his steel armor was tinted orange as well. He took water from his pouch and drank with gusto, then poured it on his face to rid the sting of dust from his eyes.
He blinked the water out of his eyes and took a good look at the field of battle. Scores upon scores of mercenaries and horses lay dead in the middle of the valley. The endless droning of the wounded, the barking of orders in Latin, and the songs of victory by some Brutii horsemen were the only sounds in the valley.
Vitus looked to his left and witnessed his wards being congratulated by the Thracians and the Gauls. The Gauls were ribbing them of losing their virginity in battle, the Thracians wanted to paint the blood of the fallen enemy on their foreheads of their first time being blooded in combat.
Vitus came from behind, the Gauls and Thracians stood to attention, leaving both wards to look at their guardian.
Both of them snapped to attention and tried to appear soldierly. Domitius' eyes fell to the dirt suddenly, "Legatus, I… I-I apologize for my shameful behavior. I a-a-allowed the enemy to unhorse me and they nearly killed me! My father told me to never fall from your horse and I fell in my first battle! I apologize!"
Labienus then spoke frantically, "I apologize as well! I attacked an enemy horse. I am craven, I-I th-thought he would kill me, so I struck the horse and… Apologies—"
Vitus hugged them both tightly. Both boys were flummoxed.
Their guardian broke the hug and smiled, "I am proud of you both. Make no apologies. Do not apologize for being unhorsed and do not apologize for attacking the enemy mount. You are expected to fight with everything you have. The enemy is trying to kill you, you must do whatever you can to survive. And both of you fought well."
Labienus' eyes lit up, "Truly?"
"Indeed," Vitus reassured. "You both slayed an enemy today, men who dedicated their entire lives to war, and you killed them. You are not boys, but men, true Roman men."
That brought a smile to their faces. Vitus continued, "How did it feel?"
Domitius blinked in recollection, "I didn't hesitate. I… I just went for it."
"As did I," Labienus added. "Driving my sword through their flesh, the sensation felt tough, like physically tough, like it was going—"
"—Through a pig…" Domitius remarked.
Both wards looked at their guardian, who only replied with a smirk.
Labienus nodded fervently, "Germanicus, I humbly apologize for how I acted last—"
"Do not apologize, Labienus. Nor you, Domitius. I have high expectations for both of you from now on. Continue to impress me."
"Yes, Germanicus!" they both said.
Vitus gave them a smirk and left them to bask in their glory.
But then, came the part that he dreaded…
He noticed Ligadis a little ways off, kneeling with some other Thracians over some corpses. Vitus approached them and spoke to Ligadis, "Gratitude, for saving me back there."
"Of course, I would always do so."
Vitus looked at the bodies, "Are… Are these all of ours?"
"Yes," Ligadis replied solemnly.
Five of his Thracians… He knew their names… Lursan, Suratralis, Tarusinas, Ziles, Zipaibes
"Julius," came a feminine voice.
"Serapia, glad to see you are not wounded." Her face was splattered with drying blood and patches of dust.
She nodded politely, "Same to you, gratitude for your assistance in plugging the gap."
"It was no problem at all, this attack was executed well."
She wore pride on her lips, "Certainly, do you recall who organized the attack?"
Her smile then soured; her eyes fell upon the Thracian dead. "Your men fought well, Julius."
"Gratitude."
"Equestris desires to see you, he's by the center, walk with me."
He nodded a thanks to her and walked beside the decurion through the carnage of the valley. Dead mercenaries and dead horses, over a hundred of them, littered the dirt. The vultures were already descending overhead. Several of Equestris' men were armed with spears along with mallets and tent pegs, euthanizing the crippled mounts on both sides who were whining in agony in only the pathetic sounds that a speechless creature could make.
"Julius, Serapia, over here," came the leader.
Blood and dust painted his face. Blood had stained his green armor and cape, dyeing I into a lukewarm dark green. But he did not seem to care. For Marcus Brutus was kneeling in front of the wide-eyed Demetrius. The young boy had come down the hill after the battle, his eyes lost in the sheer chaos of the aftermath. Vitus was silent, would he relive the trauma of what he had seen before?"
Marcus Brutus spoke to the Greekling, "You have seen the battle? Do you recognize these men?"
Demetrius nodded feebly, "These are the men… I know it. I recognize the faces of some of their dead, their armor…"
"I know. It was as I said Demetrius, I told you we would avenge your village."
Demetrius didn't say a word, but his eyes radiated volumes of gratitude that his mouth couldn't possibly usher. It was the eyes of admiration and trust, that a Roman actually kept his word to a poor, worthless Greekling.
Marcus Brutus tightened his lips as he continued to look into Demetrius' eyes. "Demetrius," he said softly. He pulled out his sword and handed it over to the Greekling. The boy was utterly surprised, he looked up at Marcus to see if it was okay to hold it. The Brutus nodded. He grasped the bladed with both hands but staggered from the weight.
"It's… heavier than I thought a sword would be," the boy admitted.
"Of course, it's meant to take life, such a burden is always heavy. My men are, relieving the wounded raiders, we cannot take them with us. Those men are defenseless, they cannot possibly harm anyone… anyone…"
"Are you suggesting…"
"The choice is yours, Demetrius. I promised you vengeance, and I have delivered that. I leave it to you whether you shall claim it for yourself."
He rustled the Greekling's hair and stood to his feet and walked away. Demetrius looked back at Marcus, he then stared at the blade in his hand for several moments. The boy spotted a legless mercenary whimpering aloud and approached him.
Marcus Brutus fully turned to Vitus and Serapia. A smile of gratefulness was on his face, "Serapia broke words to me of you plugging the gap. You have my gratitude for that, Julius."
"I appreciate your words, Brutus. This was a clear victory, you did well in planning and execution."
"Years of practice, Julius. And skilled subordinates. Fortuna indeed blessed us today… Hmm… Julius, how many men did you lose?"
"Five. Brutus, how many did you lose?"
"Thirty-five. They killed thirty-five of my men. I perhaps look to double that number if the wounded succumb…"
As if for emphasis, a wounded man cried out in agony.
Vitus looked to the enemy dead, "What of the mercenaries? How many of them are dead?"
"At last count, it was over two hundred."
Germanicus' eyes wandered over the battlefield, "200 to 40…"
"Indeed, five of theirs dead to every one of ours. That does make this worthwhile. Apparently from what the prisoners speak upon, we surprised them so thoroughly that they tried to flee, but they were already so tight together in formation, that the horses had nowhere to go and most of them were jammed in peril, allowing us to cut down most of them in our initial charge. Surprise surely won the day. Hmm… Serapia, did you give estimate of their numbers?"
She sighed playfully, "You know I am bad with counting."
"Such is why I gave you the task."
"Perceived numbers were inflated, Equestris," Serapia coughed from the dust. She drank from her doeskin pouch and exhaled, "My squadron interrogated seven individuals separately, they all said this cavalry force numbered 300, not 400 cavalrymen."
He turned to his other decurion who was nearby, "Vardanes, how many prisoners?"
"We are still searching amongst the wounded, but I believe at last count… 73."
"Was Heracleo among those prisoners?"
"He was not."
Both patricians glanced at each other, "The dead?" Germanicus asked.
"Perhaps. But allow us to determine if such is so, by using an easier method."
"The prisoners?"
"Exactly."
"Lead the way."
Vitus followed the Marcus, but both men stopped. They were fixated on Demetrius who was standing over a legless man. The Greek boy's hands were shaking. He asked the legless man questions, but both Romans were too far away to hear. The man answered back in excruciating agony. Demetrius raised his sword high. The man begged in Greek. Tears were falling from Demetrius' eyes. He yelled as he brought the sword down in the man's chest. The man made a bloody grunt, then quickly fell silent.
Demetrius, with beseeching tear-filled eyes, looked to Equestris. The Roman cavalry commander gave him a solid emotionless nod. Demetrius stood up and scoured the battlefield. He spotted another wounded man, he stood over top of him and raised the sword high.
Vitus opened his mouth to speak, but he then held his tongue. He recalled when he himself was younger and desperately sought out vengeance. Vitus turned his head away and continued following Equestris.
The Roman Cavalry leader walked in front of the prisoners who were huddled together and sat defeatedly. Equestris' sword was sheathed, and his arms were behind his back. His voice surged in Greek, "To the outriders for the Fist of Kronos, my name is Marcus Brutus Equestris Athenicus, Governor of Athens. You are now my prisoners, thereby you are prisoners of the Republic of Rome. You have been charged with illegal raiding within the lands of Rome and the unlawful sacking on vassals of the Republic. Such a crime is punishable by death! By sundown, this valley shall be stationed with crosses and every one of you fixed onto them!
"However, you are men whose trade is warfare. You are soldiers who take orders from your commanders. As Governor of Athens, I am willing to offer a pardon for every foot soldier present. The pardon shall be received upon the information given of the leader of The Fist of Kronos, Heracleo. If you are fluent in the Roman language, step forward and divulge information to receive the pardon."
No man moved.
Equestris sighed. He nodded to Lucceius. Lucceius clicked his tongue and motioned his men. With their swords drawn, they approached the prisoners. One man stood up, "That shall not be necessary, Roman."
Equestris didn't respond immediately. He stared at the standing man and then beckoned him forward with a single finger. Lucceius and his men backed away and sheathed their weapons.
The man was scarred and big. Bigger than both Vitus and Marcus. His head was bald, and his beard was bushy.
"So, you know our tongue?" Equestris asked.
"I do," the bearded man replied.
"What are you called?"
"Dorotheos."
"All right, Dorotheos, where is Heracleo?"
"Miles away to the west, with the rest of the Fists of Kronos."
Equestris told Dorotheos to follow him and Vitus to a more secluded location. Equestris drank from his water pouch before speaking.
"To the west, you say? For what purpose, then?" Germanicus asked.
"We were to be a 'blight to the Republic', whatever that meant."
"Was it your commanders who told you such?" Equestris asked.
"Yes, but such thoughts were not their own."
"Elaborate," the Brutus demanded.
"We live under the sword, our commanders tell us what our mission is, yet the overall stratagem is made by our employer. And these employers, were too furtive."
"Hmm, 'furtive'… you bore witness to men in black armor and black masks?"
The Romans noticed a flicker of surprise in the merc's face, "Yes, we called them the 'Black Masks' they would not provide us their names and they always wore those masks, even when they ate and slept. They paid Heracleo, and we followed this campaign on their orders."
"How many accompanied you?"
"Two."
Equestris nibbled on his bottom lip in disbelief, " 'Two'?!"
"Yes."
"You desire to bear false tongue to me?"
"I am not false. There only existed two of them that accompanied our entire force, one of large stature, and the other of average."
Germanicus squinted his eyes, "Was one of them named 'Vipera' or 'Taurus'?"
"No, I did overhear the officers complaining and mocking how Heracleo called them 'Umbra' and the other 'Biga'."
Both Romans exchanged looks, then back to the mercenary. "Are you certain that was their name?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"Because those names mean 'Shadow' and 'Chariot', respectively."
Dorotheos scoffed, "I give no shits to what they are called in your language, I just heard that was what they were called. Those names and those phantoms mean nothing to me."
Germanicus remarked, "You are being quite cooperative."
Dorotheos' voice was calm and cold. "I am paid to fight, not for my silence. And seeing how I am no longer being paid and my life shall be forfeited…"
"Smart man. Continue."
"From where else to continue? I was not made privy to Heracleo's schemes. He only revealed his plan with the Black Masks to his officers."
"Truly? So where is your officer?"
"Under his horse, with a javelin through his heart."
"Hmm, and yet you seem knowledgeable in these matters, Dorotheos." Germanicus surmised.
"You must understand, I am the third-in-command within this cavalry contingent."
"Well then they must have said something to you!" Equestris barked.
"Not exactly. You Romans are soldiers. You know how it goes. The General always hides something from the 1st Man, the 1st Man always hides something from the 2nd Man, and the 2nd Man always hides something from the 3rd Man. Such hierarchy exists in the Fists of Kronos. Men of the sword care little for intrigue, only payment and thrills."
"You know more than you admit, break words or be crucified."
"I know nothing else."
"You lie!"
"To what do I gain from silence? You hold our lives in your hands. My officer is dead, and I doubt I shall ever see the Fists of Kronos again. I speak only truth to save my men."
Germanicus stepped in, "What were your orders exactly? You were the 3rd Man, so you can divulge information on this regard."
"Our orders were to march to the west. Through Greece and Macedonia until we came to the coasts that divides the Adriatic and Ionian Sea. The Fists of Kronos was to move with haste without alerting the Romans or ruining the land."
"Then why ravage the country? You pillaged a village, raped their women, and slaughtered everyone you saw."
"Orders. We needed to feed our army and lift our spirits from forced marching, so Heracleo decided thus to attack a village. The Black Masks argued against such, but Heracleo did so anyway. He order us cavalry to sack this village and return with the plunder. As for the women, you are aware that on a far-ending campaign without something warm on your cock… It lifted the morale of our horsemen. We took the village's food and we killed them so they would not alert you Romans. But obviously, that endeavor has ended in failure."
"How far have you marched?" Germanicus asked.
"Since Byzantion."
Both men blinked incredulously, Marcus spoke passionately, "To shit with your lying tongue!"
"I speak truth."
"You came marching from Byzantium? From Anatolia to Thessalia? From Byzantium to Macedonia? From that distance?!" Marcus suddenly roared. "You expect us fools?!"
"No."
"Then for what purpose—"
"I bear no false tongue on this accord. Our horses have succumbed to split hooves, worn legs and fragile backs, from carrying us this far! Several of them have died in such an endeavor and we had to steal from the countryside. We have trekked for weeks if not months, and on some nights, we committed to force marches. And with no orders to raid unless absolutely necessary. Such is why, our cavalry was "eager" in the pillage of that village."
Equestris scoffed dismissively, "If what you say is truth, then it is impossible for one village to feed 7,000 men, especially if you have trekked from Byzantium."
That got a chuckle out of Vitus. It was true, how could a village of a hundred people possibly feed an army? If they were running out of food, then all the better. But Vitus noticed the mercenary's face, it was of guiltiness of not revealing the truth.
Vitus looked to the merc, "Something troubles you… what is it? What are you not admitting?"
Dorotheos' eyes burned, "Do I have your word that you shall not harm my men?"
Equestris stared at him. "You have my word."
"On Zeus' name, do you so swear?"
"I swear to Jupiter, but fine, yes I do. Now spill your words, what do you hide?"
"The Fist of Kronos… it no longer stands at 7,000. Our army expands. We have been receiving more mercenary bands throughout Thrace, Greece, and Macedonia. At last count, we were 20,000 strong. By the time we reach the sea, we should expect more bands to join us. Heracleo boasted we would be as strong as 30,000."
That caused Equestris to shoot up and lunge at Dorotheos, his hands strangling the prisoner. Fortunately, Vitus was there to pull him off of the mercenary. But Equestris was fuming.
"Unhand me, Julius! This raiding bastards mocks us with his deceptions! I have grown tired of his false tongue, and I shall sever it with my own fucking hands!"
Dorotheos was wheezing, "I bear no falsehood… Dozens of mercenary bands are in his employ now. The Band of Red, The Cyclopes, The Black Dogs, Prometheus' Pawns… he has procured them all."
"Fuck you! I am nobody's fool!" Equestris roared.
"Be calm, Equestris!" Germanicus urged, holding him at bay from charging again at Dorotheos. "Be calm!"
But he did not listen, he continued to yell, "You foul bearded pig-spawn! You expect me to believe he has 30,000 mercenaries under his command?! What?! The shit that falls from your tongue! It's impossible to employ 30,000 mercenaries for any man without a country! How could he possibly afford that?!"
The comment shot through Vitus. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. "By the Gods…" he whispered to himself.
He suddenly brought Equestris into a tight embrace, and whispered sharply into his air, "Heracleo could afford it, I know how. The gold from the treasury…"
That seemed to calm him, "Gold?! Wait, what treasury?"
Vitus whispered, "I mentioned this after we all spoke in your home for the first time. The Republic's treasury that the Arcani stole after they tried to kill Sulla. I had believed such coin was used to pay for Heracleo alone, but alas, it seems their scheme is to field an actual army of mercenaries."
The blond Brutus was shaking his head in disbelief. "No! To field 30,000 mercenaries, half of the treasury couldn't pay for that many men, who's wages exceeds those of legionaries."
"Perhaps. But consider this, Equestris, this is a treasury that Sulla has gained an entire year from purging the richest men in all of the Republic. Even half is more wealth than several of our client kingdoms."
"But… the number of men..."
"You mentioned this on the day we met, Equestris. That you were unable to procure any mercenaries to fight Mithridates because someone else had bought them all, and you could not determine who. Do you recall that? I believe now has provided a credible answer."
It was all connecting within Equestris' mind, "Oh Gods… They… They could actually field an army that size…"
But this still troubled Vitus, half of the Roman treasury could technically finance an army of this size. And yet, the Arcani would still need money to keep their promises to the mercenaries to ensure they would keep marching towards their enemy instead of taking the money and fleeing. No, the Arcani needed more money, they had to have gotten the coin from elsewhere, but where…?
Equestris spun his attention back on Dorotheos. "An army of 30,000 mercenaries moving in mass? I do not care how spaced out our watchtowers may be, someone would have noticed such a large army!"
"And yet, here we are, in Thessalia. Again, we didn't start as a mass of 30,000. We began individually, and along the way, the other bands began joining us. As I stated before, when our cavalry split, the Fist of Kronos was around 20,000 strong. When we did have to pass watchtowers, we had to wait miles away until we could cross the watchtowers by midnight. I do not know how we did such an action, but we managed to avoid contact with you Romans."
"Someone would have had to notice!" Equestris argued.
"I cannot tell you how, but we met no resistance in our trek. I cannot tell you how."
Germanicus approached Dorotheos, "If you claim that 30,000 shall be the final number, where is the other 10,000?"
"If I had to guess they would be moving through Illyria to meet up with us at our destination."
"And that is?"
"The largest city on the western coast of Greece. The city of Apollonia."
The eyes of the young Romans were wide. Apollonia was a coastal city and was often seen as the port from Italia to Greece. Vitus forced himself to continue, "To what end does he move there?"
"I do not know. This was a condition that he demanded from the Black Masks, and they ultimately accepted. My officer told us that Heracleo would inform us of his plan once we reached our destination."
Vitus gnashed his teeth, "But you must know wh—"
"Julius," it came from Marcus Brutus. No longer did he possess swelling anger. When Vitus looked at him, the only emotion on his face was utter horror. "Julius, what else can a rogue army of mercenaries who are 30,000 strong plan to do next to a wealthy coastal city?"
Vitus gasped in realization.
Marcus' voice was hollow, "They plan to sack Apollonia…"
For reference of how far they Fist of Kronos traveled, if you are not familiar, Byzantium is the city that would later become the capital of the Byzantine Empire. Constantinople, and then become modern day Istanbul in modern day Turkey. So they basically traveled from Modern Day Turkey to Greece and Modern Day Albania within weeks to a month. So that made Equestris very incredulous.
Again, I must unfortunately say that chapters will be uploaded inconsistently, due to my schedule. So please be patient.
Thank you for reading.
-Kanuro5