59 B.C.E - Roman Province of Illyricum
Legatus Legionis Perseus Antony rode silently on his black stallion. The hard march of the legion filled his ears, the cool metal of his armour combatted the sun beating down upon him. Perseus was new to the position of Legatus Legionis, And had been appointed by the new governor of Illyricum, Julius Caesar, who had been appointed this province as one of three by the senate.
The legion was in the far south of the province, near the border of province of macedonia, chasing insurgents. The Hellenic rebels had been a minor annoyance in this province and those surrounding it, and the previous governor had neglected to attend the problem, something that Caesar wasn't willing to do.
And so, Perseus rode, now the head of Legio X Aeternum. The twin legion of Caesar's personal legion, Legio X Equestris. The name alone gave Perseus pressure to succeed. to a name a legion Aeternum, Eternal, meant that it would never be destroyed.
Despite the fact Percy had gotten his position mostly from nepotism, his family had a military history. His brother from his adoptive family, Marcus Antonius was currently serving as consul, and working to push through some more legislation from Caesar.
Perseus spurred his horse forward, the black steed hastily galloping past his legionaries and making it the front of column, joining one of his Tribunes, Lucius Anatolius at the front of the column.
"Ave, Legate." He hailed.
"Ave, Tribune." Perseus returned. "We should establish camp at the next open plateau, the mountain passes will provide good defence, and a cliff would be beneficial for defense; then we can begin sending out patrols to find these rebels." He spat the word with disgust.
Lucius nodded, "A good plan, I will order the troops to do so at the next spot." He responded.
Perseus nodded, donned his purple plumed helmet and turned to ride down the line, his crimson cape billowing out behind him.
He rode down until his found the man he was looking for, Tiberius Leptis, his primus pilus.
"Ave Primus Pilus." He greeted, scooting his horse around to match his pace.
"Ave Legatus." He return in a gravelly voice.
"We're making camp soon, pass on word up and down the line."
"Aye sir."
Perseus kept his matching pace, watching as word was spread down the column of legionaries. The tall black pine trees rode on either side of the crude path the legion followed, occasionally falling away to provide a view across the landscape they were climbing. The cool wind was refreshing, and he was secretly glad he wasn't stuck carrying all a standard soldiers gear.
He saw the legion halt, and quickly sallied to the front. Situated at which was the banner bearer, holding the legions banner, their symbol being a silhouetted side profile of head adorned by a laurel wreath, it was chosen to represent the gods, the foundation of eternality.
Approaching the group he could he hear a commotion being kicked up. He straightened his back as he rode up.
"Tribunes?" He questioned, his voice carrying the edge of authority required of a legate.
Another Tribune had made his way to the front, Oppius Cotentinus was in a heated debate with Lucius but turned to face Perseus.
"This area is entirely unsuitable for camp!" He declared.
Perseus rolled his eyes. It was well known in the legion that Oppius had been installed by Cato to hinder Caesar, the two often having come to blows, verbally for now, in the senate. The man was completely incompetant within every aspect of warfare.
"This is more than optimal, infact." Perseus responded monotonously.
"How?" He asked.
"The cliff face means we don't have to build walls surrounding the camp, and gives us only one spot from where we can be attacked." Percy explained slowly. He could feel the eyes of his primus pilus on him, and saw his nod of agreement.
"But What If W-" Oppius continued, only for Perseus to again interrupt him.
"But nothing, Tribune." He ended, turning to the legion, waiting slowly. "Set up camp on this cliff, we base here for the foreseeable future."
"Aye sir" Tiberius responded, before turning to the legion and barking out orders.
"Have your first cohort stand guard, send the equites out to scout and map the area, having the other cohorts begin work on the camp." Perseus ordered, letting his Primus pilus and tribunes repeat the orders.
He sat atop his horse as the rest of the legion filed into the plain, the narrow mountain pass finally letting up. It was a testament to the legionary's' efficiency that the camp began to take form so quickly, His personal tent, the praetorium was being erected, and ditches were being dug and the tall trees surrounding were being cut down to form the camp walls, in addition to the stakes carried by each legionary, the newly deforested area proving open ground surrounding the camp.
He left his horse with the Tessarius and sat down in his tent, preparing to write a letter to Caesar.
Arrived in southern Illrycum.
Base set on wooded mountain.
Will conduct scouting and begin engaging the Hellenic rebels.
-Perseus Antonius. Legio X Aeternum.
He copied out the letter 3 times, and numbered them on the top left, as was agreed procedure in case of interception.
He quickly stood, and exited his tent, approaching the lead of the equites.
"I need these letters delivered to the Governor, take separate routes." He ordered. The centurion of the equites took them and turned to his men, passing out letters to riders, who soon departed the camp.
He walked out of camp and walked over to talk with the Primus pilus. As he did, a scout rode up to him.
"Legatus!" He called.
"Yes?"
"We've found evidence of a camp close by, it appears to have been deserted only a few hours ago!" He reported eagerly.
"Good work. How is the mapping going?"
"Exceptional, here is a version," He replied, before digging a rather well detailed map out of a pocket.
The camp was clearly marked on it, there were also a few paths throughout the forest that had been added. Perseus nodded in approval, before sending the scout back out to find the rebels' new camp.
"Primus Pilus!" He called.
"Ave Legatus." Was the dutiful response.
"Have a century made ready from cohort 2 for night operations."
"Aye sir."
He called out for a tribune, and asked them to write a letter to the Cretans, requesting some Cretan archer auxiliaries; they would be priceless in upcoming engagements.
The night was quiet, there birds had gone silent, the crackling of a fire ahead travelled through the air.
Perseus was crouched in the long grass, surrounded by the first century. Their blackened armour hid them among the darkness, and stopped the orange glow from giving them away.
Up ahead, a mostly young men laughed around a campfire, all recognized the classic armour of a Greek hoplite. Among the men were a few young women, bows and quivers slung across their back. The Rebels.
He turned to the Aeneator, who blew the Buccina, as the forest roared to life under the Roman charge. The camp dwellers were caught completely of guard. Many of them fall backward over their log seats, scrambling for weapons. The century followed his orders, prioritising the taking of prisoners.
Perseus batted a spear aside with his shield and drove his gladius through the stomach for a greek rebel. He sunk to his knees, and Perseus stepped his foot onto his shoulder and wrenched his blade out, taking grim satisfaction in his victims cry of pain.
The noise of battle roared around him, the front line fighting was just ahead, and legionaries at the back were tying up prisoners.
The battle was brief, and there was only one friendly casualty.
The clearing fell silent, and the centurion looked to him for orders.
"Burn this. Return to camp, put the prisoners into the pit. Well fought everyone."
The march back to camp held an air of victory. All were in a good mood, they were already on track for success, less than 12 hours into their arrival in the troubled area. Alongside the legionaries marched their prisoners, hands tied, linked in a train by chains around their necks. Their heads were hung in defeat.
They arrived back at the Castra, and was welcomed by the tessarius, throwing the prisoners into the fenced pits they had made earlier. He let Tiberius know that he was under his own discretion to begin operations in the morning, before he returned to his tent and crashed into the bed; Welcoming the embrace of Somnus.
He awoke late in the day, unusual for him, but he had an excuse in the form of the last nightime raid.
He finally emerged his tent in full uniform, his uniform gladius hung above his not-so uniform spatha, both in ornate sheaths.
Just as he stepped out, the battle formation buccina sounded, and the camp suddenly burst to life as legionaries began sprinting towards the front of the camp. Overhead, the bolt of a tower-mounted scorpion screamed over. He grabbed his shield and unsheathed his spatha and surged out alongside his soldiers.
Exiting the camp, the situation became clearer. A large group of Hellenic rebels were charging out of the forest, into a hastily made front line. The Primus Pilus was at the front, barking out orders to his ad-hoc battle line.
Perseus didn't bother trying to assume command, and charged in alongside his other soldiers. He soon reached the front, and found himself against a veteran hoplite if his armour told him anything. He ducked a spear thrust, and dashed inside his guard, slamming the rim of his shield into his waist, resulting in him crumpling in on himself, and getting Perseus' spatha through his ribs; the latter causing him a bigger problem.
The rebels began to rout, and turned for the trees and began a desperate dash.
"Make ready Pila" Perseus called, a shuffle of gear responded from the ranks.
"Loose!" A wall of pila flew over his head, felling another group of fleeing rebels.
He turned to ranks. "Equites, pursue them." The roar of cavalry passing him filled his ears as the equites legionis galloped past; roaring into the treeline in vicious pursuit.
He turned to his men. "Gather the dead for last rites, well fought."
His soldiers nodded dutifully, and began tending to the dead. The maimed and writhing Greeks were dragged off and thrown into the prisoner pits.
Hours had passed since the last engagement before he heard the rhythmic thundering of hooves that announced the return of his cavalry. He finished reading the reports and was about to stand when the flap to his tent was thrown open, The primus pilus strode in, two equites in tow, a girl in their grasp.
Now Perseus was young. 19 years old. Him being in command of a legion at this age was unheard of, but it was mostly seen as Caesar grooming him for an excellence in command. The girl was hauled infront of his desk, and had her knees kicked out from behind her, sending her to her knees before him.
Up-close, and not hidden behind Tiberius's hulking frame, he could get a closer look at her. She was admittedly gorgeous, dark volcanic eyes, copper-coloured skin, a silver circlet braided into her black glossy hair. She reminded him of a Persian princess. Her eyes stared up at him in unbreakable defiance.
"Primus Pilus, How fared your expedition?" He asked, his eyes scanning over the girls form.
"Well. We cut down most of the fleeing cowards, and found a larger camp of greeks by a stream in a hidden valley sir." He reported dutifully.
"And who have you brought before me?"
"This girl was issuing orders to others during the rout, we ran her down and dragged her here."
Clearly. The girls clothing was streaked with mud and torn in numerous places, dirt marred her face and entangled her hair.
He rose from his chair and walked around to the front of his desk, squatting down infront of his captive. He reached out and pulled the cloth gag out of her mouth.
"And pray, tell, who are you?" He asked her, his face neutral.
She said nothing, only looked up at him.
His face soured, and he rose up, before kicking her in the stomach, his steel capped shoes inflicting extra pain. She gasped and went to collapse forward, only to be wrenched back upright by the two legionaries.
She looked up at him, her eyes alight with flame. She opened her mouth to speak,
And spat in face.
"Go to Hades, Roman."
The two other legionaries stiffened in outrage, and withheld a flinch at the fuming expression on their superior officer's face.
"Tie her to the posts. Fetch me a whip." He ordered, his voice like the snarl of a lion. He took satisfaction at seeing fear simmer through her expression.
The two guards dragged her out of the tent, whilst the Primus Pilus went to fetch a whip. Perseus fixed his Lorica Musculata and exited his tent, red cape flowing in the mountain top wind, his face one of cold fury.
The girl was before him, back turned, wrists bound to opposite stakes, holder her upright, arms stretched out to either side. Tiberius handed him a long, viscous whip.
He marched up to the girl, tearing open the back of her garments, exposing her pristine skin to the cool air. He stepped back, and readied his arm. A crowd of legionaries had formed around, and her reared back his arm, and threw it forward, smiling as the whip cracked at contact with bare flesh. The girl flinched, but held on. He reared back again and stuck. And then again. And again. And again.
The sequential cracking of the whip filled the air. The whip had torn open her skin, and destroyed the rest of her top, leaving her shamefully exposed to the roman soldiers around her.
Perseus kept on going, until the girl was too weak to stand, behind held only upright by her bound hands, tears of pain streaming down her face, her throat raw from crying out in pain.
The passed rolled up the whip and attached it to his side, motioning to the guards around him to fetch the girl and to bring him to her, as they did, he strode back to his tent. In a matter of seconds, the girl was dragged in. She was being held up by the bonds around her wrists, of which were being held by the two soldiers at either side of her.
"Will you speak now, or will we have to go to further measures?" He asked aloud, his back still turned.
Her shaky and ragged breaths filled the room.
Perseus turned to her, eyes blazing in anger. He unsheathed his pugio and spun it threateningly.
She sighed in defeat, nodding in a barely noticeable way.
He sat down infront of her, delicately turning her chin up to look her in the eyes.
"You are?"
"Zoe."
"Well then, Zoe. Why is a girl fighting with some rebels?"