Disclaimer: Fairy Tail, by being the sole property of Hiro Mashima an Co. makes it pointless for anyone, including me, to claim it as his own. That's all there is to it. OC's on the other hand are entirely another matter. But! You must not confuse them with some of their real-life counterparts, and that is why historical references and elements that I use in my story are borrowed and do not necessarily correspond with facts we know today. 'Nough said.

Indomitable Heart

Chapter 12: The Black Wind Blows

In retrospect, this whole operation would be doomed to prolong in the next month if something wasn't done quickly. The instructions were fairly simple; infiltrate, find the high-valued target, exchange hellos and reach mutual agreement, seize the town... All that had to be accomplished in the matter of two days. Such was the deadline high command has given them.

Yeah, the entire package, why not add 'conquer the nation in a day', too?

''Hold positions!'' The current ally of Alvarez rapidly gave orders left and right. The city of Cyrene was an important location in Nubian territories, but that didn't mean it was the only one. There were two more towns holding a Legion. The closest one, Coptos was about a day and half march and held the Fifth Legion.

Now, the problem at hand was that Alvarezian fleet wasn't best suited to wage a desert battles. Sure, the soldiers were all for the cause, but the overall experience and infantry strength were on Bellatorian side, hand's down.

Since the incursion started the day before, Alvarez managed to divide the forces of the town by forty percent. The sole reason being general that might be the cause of his incoming deafness. Did all greater Bellatorian commanders had to have such strong throats? Practical reasons maybe...

''This is not working.'' Casillas noted as he watched the proselyted troops of Bellatorians fell back under the constant fire from the Sixth Legion's fort. And what a fine looking one it was. Tall ramparts of stone, four watch towers, a thick wooden gate at the front. Nigh impenetrable at first sight. Many would call it quits after just seeing it. He had no such luxury. ''Joy...''

Former general Felix, now self-reinstated into said position, chewed on his right cheek annoyingly. The Lieutenant was right, despite not having to state the obvious. It has barely been a day, they all had little to no sleep or food, securing the hold on the city residential area below until the navy arrived. ''It will become battle of wills at this point.''

And nobody wanted that, themselves for the most part. According to general Felix, the fortress should be well supplied to last for weeks. By then, noticing the absence of any correspondence, the neighbors will find out. The rumors will spread, in days they will turn into news bearing genuine threat and it would take no long for the other army to mobilize.

''Maldición.'' Casillas silently cursed in his native tongue. As things stand, the goal was to subdue the Sixth not slaughter them, with minimum casualties. Because numbers, resources and all that... Easier said than done. ''At this rate we'll hardly be able to keep the city until others catch wind and send reinforcements.'' And then it will be real nightmare. Who's going to be accounted for the debacle and incompetence? Take a wild guess. He can practically imagine the selected words from his superior.

Felix hummed lightly, his thoughts whirling and going miles per hour, nay, per second to devise something... Anything. ''Perhaps conjuring another miracle would not be far out of hand?'' He suggested at the third party with them. The aforementioned was standing back and watching the whole time, her left arm holding the pommel of the sword, twitchy fingers constantly running the length of the handle.

Casillas didn't need to think twice to know what the man was referring to. ''If it's that simple, we'd already be done YESTerday.'' The Alvarezian lieutenant called out.

Even if he didn't directly said her name, the girl in armoured grab, the custom Felix has only ever heard barbarians make use of, snorted at the smartly hidden jab. ''Smartass...'' The blonde thought. ''I don't know what to tell you, Kiko. Open the door for me and I'll do the 'snatching the victory from jaws of defeat' schtick.''

Only that, huh? Out of all man-at-arms, he had to be the one partnered with her. Technically, she wasn't even a part of the regular forces, with the nature of how she came to be in the army, but that didn't matter now. The finer details can be discussed after they secure victory and declare the first success in the military campaign. But one small detail... ''How many times I have to remind you; it's either Lieutenant Casillas, or just plain salute would do.'' He scolded with little bite. Honestly, he'll lose face if this goes on.

''Sí jefe! Want me to cook lunch and wash the laundry later?'' She snipped at his request. In turn, he looked like he wanted nothing of the mentioned, but rather something that included a target practice. With her playing the part of the target. ''Aquí viene la caballería. (Here comes the cavalry.)''

Finally, they decided to spare a few men. The subjugation can be done more properly now that their ranks have been replenished with... ''Ohh, esto no se ve bien. (Ohh, that can't be good.)'' Casillas felt his brow twitching in irritation.

A man leading the column gradually marched over to the trio, saluting brusquely he said. ''Lieutenant! Sergeant Bartolo Fontes! We were sent by captain at your request!'' Lowering his arm, back held straight he waited for further instructions.

Holding back his temper, not to scare poor soldier to death, Casillas dragged a hand over his face in a silent frustration. ''I specifically asked to be sent a battalion,'' he waved his hand at around twenty or so men gathered in line a few yards away, ''correct me if my math is wrong, Sergeant, but does this look like a battalion?''

Fontes was flabbergasted before finding his voice. ''...I'm sorry, Lieutenant. We were told to assist in the final stages of siege.'' Come to think of it, as soon as they unshipped there was little to no fighting in the town below. The soldiers were mostly arranged at key points, entrances and main roads. The populous was quiet so far.

Of-fucking-course. Why waste more of their own? Instead let the Bellatorians finish themselves to death. This is some big communication lapse. When he gets his hand on that courier...

''Well, congratulations. You just made our day from bad to worse.'' The only female among soldiers snarked derisively. ''Now how about you be a good little soldado and go ask the captain to give us real support?''

Fontes regarded her for a moment, taking note of the alterations on her armour. Left arm mostly uncovered except for the glove, chest-plate and the fully covered gauntlet on the right with Empire's insignia. He immediately realized which part she belonged. ''I take no orders from non-ranking staff.'' Besides, there was no way he was taking a hike down after the energy spent to scale up.

The hiss of sword being steadily unsheated came from the girl. She didn't take that one too kindly. ''Ah sí? (Oh yeah?)''

''Por supuesto. (Of course.)'' Seeing his life to be threatened, Fontes quickly reached to draw his saber. Both were stopped midway when an angry crossbowman stepped in between the disputed parties.

''Calmate! Calmate hijueputa! (Calm down! Calm the fuck down!)'' Standing between them with his arbalest at ready, he regarded them both with the harshest glare he could muster. ''You are soldiers of the Empire, and you're embarrassing yourselves. I'm this close to sending you off... But as it stands, I need you all in good health, not in pieces with guts splayed around. Is that in any way not clear?''

Even though he reprimanded the two of them, his gaze remained on the blonde for the better amount of time, daring her to try something out of turn. Felix merely watched the tense situation from his spot several feet away. This was not his business, however interesting it was that the great Empire had disciplinary problems within their own ranks. ''Yet not much different.''

''Lo que usted digas. (Whatever you say.)'' The tall blonde broke the tension, letting go of the blade and crossing her arms over her thorax. Displeasure was written all over her face, but the hostility decreased by a margin. Not like she wanted to kill the guy... Maybe just scare him a bit to teach respect and who's the top dog... Yeah, simple as that.

The mustached Lieutenant let out a small breath, since the greater threat was pacified. Damn, he'll get an aneurysm one day if he remains around this girl. Nodding stiffly to the still alert Fontes, he assured his safety. ''Ready your men, we move in thirty. At ease.''

Giving the superior a curt nod and salute, he strolled back to the larger crowd of platoon. Not before directing a brief black look at an armoured maiden. That alone wouldn't have mattered to her, but the way Casillas was giving her a disapproving stare forced a reaction out of her. ''Qué? Yo puedo cuidar de mí mismo. (What? I can take care of myself.)'' Did he really expect her to just let some snooty trooper trample over her? Not in a million years!

He didn't break eye contact, his weapon held more loosely but finger was yet to leave the trigger. ''No lo dudo, Yesta. Pero, lo que debes de entender es que esto es la guerra-... (I don't doubt that, Yesta. But what you got to understand is that this is war-...)''

''Yo sé e-... (I know t-...)''

''...-No es una pequeña pelea, es puta guerra! (...-Not one on one squabble, but fucking war!)'' He cut her abruptly, raising his voice several octaves higher. ''Y ay algo que nosotros utilizamos en este ejercito; la cadena de mando. A mi no me importa quién te patrocine, pero aca en el medio de la mierda, sos uno de nosotros. Un soldado. Y dios ayúdame, vas a seguir las órdenes del official superior, o te vas a regreso en el primera barco, entiendo? Bien, ya tenemos que mover. (And there's a thing we in the army like to call; chain of command. I don't care who sponsors you, but here in the field you're one of us. A soldier. And so help me, you will either follow orders from superior officer or take the first ship home, understand? Good, now let's move.)''

Her attitude considerably humbled, the blonde by the name of Yesta walked pass Casillas to her designated spot. Kiko sighed again... This was becoming a bad habit. He wasn't normally the one to berate the subordinates at such lengths, but when push comes to shove.

''Wise decision.'' General Felix spoke for the first time in a while. ''Young need be taught a lesson in respect.'' He expressed the approval on the minor altercation he just witnessed. Although not able to grasp the last bits due to a language barrier, he got the gist if judging by the girl's reaction. ''Yet, is it wise to allow her place in battle?''

The Alvarezian crossbowman shrugged the suspicions of Bellatorian man. ''She is crucial to the strategy. Without her, we might as well pack and head back home.'' Taking the bolt from the weapon's groove, he stored it inside the special holster and from the inside he took another ammo charge. This one, however, had a different design. It wasn't polished, nor had the distinct generic look of its counterparts.

Felix raised his eyebrow questioningly at what the man was doing. Was it the flawed design? It would do them no good if he's taking a broken weapon into the fray. ''What is that?''

Smirking mirthlessly, Kiko set it carefully in its starting position. ''This, señor, is our battering ram.'' He then motioned for the man to make a several last-minute adjustments to the plan. They gave him a batch of just over two dozen men and expect to take the fortress by noon? Fine, he'll do it, consequences be damned. It was time to improvise. The recepie a la Enrique Casillas.

''Ballesteros will fend of the archers as much as they can, in turn, I need your men to provide shield cover. Once we are close enough to the gate I'll use whatever opening there is to make us an entrance.'' He pointed at the sides of the fort, distanced about half a kilometer. ''After that, Yesta will charge in with infantry and take out the wall's defenses. You know what to do after that, yes?''

Giving the man his own grin, Felix tightened the strap of his scabbard. It has been long time he was away from the actual battlefield that everything almost seemed surreal. He will make up with years of experience, for the noble quest that he was part of has no place for second thoughts. ''My name carries considerable weight among soldiers, former and present.''

In his peripheral, he could see Casillas beginning to loosen the straps on his gear. While seemingly lighter from the woman's choice, he assumed that as primarily an archer, the man specialized in hit and run tactics. Or it could be the lack of time to put on some proper protection when he tried to pass as a normal civilian. ''You will march in battle absent body protection?''

Grunting at the stubborn shoulder pad, the Alvarezian managed to take it off with forceful yank. ''It would only slow me down. If I am to preform this maneuver properly, I need less things impeding my movements.'' He brought up the loaded crossbow to accentuate. ''While powerful, this thing is an absolute nightmare to run with.''

Accepting the explanation, whilst noting the details about the peculiar contraption the Bellatorian general couldn't but wonder what possibilities this invention offers. Then a thought hit him, so he had to give voice on it. ''Battering ram, you broached? Does the item of such size hold enough power to accomplish the task?''

The skepticism was fair in his mind, Casillas shrugged lightly. ''Wait and see, general. You're in for a bombshell.'' With the last word, the two separated for the moment to convey the plan to their groups.

''Sergeant Fontes,'' he addressed the man, who along with his countryman gave a brief salute and in return received a respectful response from the Lieutenant, ''everyone, this is the scenario. Listen up, I won't be repeating myself. Shooters will be working in pairs with Bellatorian shielder each, your main task is to draw the fire from us. When we get in range, I bust the doors open and you press on. Clear?'' With a loud confirmation and briefing done, he searched briefly for the special asset. With how diverse they made the army soldiers look it wasn't hard to spot the golden mop that sticks out like a sore thumb.

Standing at farthest reasonable distance, she tried not to appear interested in the fact that some might not be getting out alive from this. She was perfectly fine with that, the strategy is important, yet her own ambition trumped the notion. All it takes is to have one second to shine. It's her that will shine the brightest at the end of the day...

''Oye Yesta!''

The voice made her snap back from her fantasy. ''Right. Still got battles to fight, war to win...'' Raising her hand in greeting, she waved at slightly languid Kiko. ''Hola. What can this humble soldier do for you?'' She asked nonchalantly, her entire pose reeking with everything but modesty.

The small part of his mind wondered if every person of her type is this troublesome to deal with. Or if they all possess some kind of quirks that makes them stand out. If hers was hubris, how do others stand out? Arsonists, narcissists, egomaniacs, women scorned that hell hath no fury? ''Man, that's totally nine levels above my pay grade...'' Quickly diverting from that train of thoughts, he focused on the tall blonde. ''Just wanted to confirm you're up for it before we get started.''

Despite not being a question, Yesta found it in her to give him positive answer anyway. ''Do I look like some frail niña? We'll have this whole place by the end of the noon!''

Casillas huffed haplessly, not completely sharing her enthusiasm. ''Good to see you're not lacking the drive. You know the drill; when gate gets open, you do the wall sweeping.''

''Right, for I'm the Empire's official charwoman.'' Was the swordswoman's sardonic riposte. ''So, you're actually going off in that?'' She pointed out, noticing the state of his attire, or the lack of thereof.

Again, the man shrugged unconcernedly. ''Might as well. I'm counting the enemy gets so astonished by my bravery they'll forget to shoot.''

Even if he made it sound like a reasonable part of what he was intending to do, it brought out good amount of chortling that she failed to subdue. ''Pfffft! He-hehe!'' If only the noise and the mannerism were more refined, she might appear a proper lady. ''Estas jodiendo, verdad?! (You're shitting me, right?!)''

With that, every last idea of 'proper' in Casillas' mind has been promptly killed off and swept under a rug. ''Uh-huh. Like I got nothing better to do. Let's go, we're on the clock here.''

Falling in line beside him, they carefully went to where troops rallied. ''Heh, and your is about to run out if you don't take good care.'' She poked him, both figuratively and literally with her elbow in the side.

Lieutenant Casillas grunted softly at the metal parts digging into his clothed, armourless flesh. No one saw that luckily, and he'll let her get away with it. ''Supposedly you'd know all about that, huh?'' The blond soldier girl said nothing in return, offering but a mere simper.

The garrison of Bellatorians huddled in that pile of stones will never know what hit them.

XxX

''For the last time, I do not know the reason for their desertion!'' An angry voice shouted to the battle ready man standing on the other side of the small office room.

His polar opposite was the nervously-looking prefect who tried and failed to neatly scribble on a shambled papers spread across his desk. His fingers dirty from ink, a messy bed-head and bloodshot eyes were a dead giveaway on badly the day has started for him. It was to be another dull day in this backwater place where he voluntarily took position when no one else cared. On the bright side, the conquered Nubian territory was largely his to govern, no pesky senators or many other fellow highborns to deal with.

On the other hand, one classified detail that was kept largely from public may finally be the end of him. Hence the current rush he was in. He needed time, precious time... And some solitude to gather his bearings without uninvited audience.

Ignoring the ramblings of the Nubian governor for a second, the soldier did not take the subtle hint and stayed firmly rooted in place. ''You are not taking this matter seriously enough. Five cohorts change sides with aggressor and you of all people cannot think the reason why?'' The man grounded with tone not caring about respect for a position. Said reason could be counted on one hand, and he didn't like to be kept in the dark. This man, Tiberius Ostorius Salvianus, who was probably one of the longest serving governors in the entire Republic simply didn't know. What a load of crap.

Gods why wouldn't the nosey guy just leave? ''You are the appointed legatus, Glaber. It is you who has the duty to institute loyalty of the Legion. The purse which grants coin pays you to lead an army, not pose superfluous questions!'' Salvianus snapped, but refused to meet the eyes of the Sixth Legion commander.

Now he definitely knew there was something off here, but trying to pry it from his mouth without resorting to violence would be redundant right now. Not while the fort is under a siege, and if the enemy follows a similar military doctrine as he was taught then the next step is to prepare a counter. So, Glaber relented this once and made to leave. ''We are not done yet...'' He let the warning dangle in the air and closed the doors.

Salvianus barely heard what he said. If he meant to scare him with that alone, he had another thing coming. You don't become a governor without starring bigger political fish dead in the eyes. Crassus, Rufus, Antonius, Caesar, Castus... Cicero. ''Apologies old friend, I might not live to taste the wine from that finest harvest.'' The older man thought ruefully. ''If nothing, I have to give you the fighting chance.'' Sighing heavily, he once more started forming words on the writing material's stained surface. He is the man of Republic, like Cicero he loves her dearly. They once joked its not too dissimilar than marriage. Heh, is he then committing an infidelity?

With positive thoughts of the old days filling his mind, he focused on the instructions with more care, words taking appearance of a small masterpiece. Each curve, each stroke might be his last, so this man will be sure to pour every last ounce of his soul for the salvation of their motherland.

XxX

''Tuscus, report!''

The weary centurion nearly stumbled back from the stone support he was leaned against. Legatus sounded pissy, anything less than a full report would most likely earn a harsh reprimand in best case. Which is why the officer of the Legion was glad to provide if only to make him leave sooner rather than later. ''Archers have done their job, legatus. The, uhm, enemy has retreated for the moment.''

Which earned zero approval ratings if judging by the deep frown that remained etched on Glaber's face. ''Retreated? And why do you hesitate with naming the traitors that dared side with invaders?''

Oh boy, trying to appeal on his good will was out of the window today. Not that Tuscus could blame the man. ''If I may be so bold, legatus, this insurgency is highly suspicious.'' Glaber said nothing to dispute him, meaning that even the commander was uncertain of how the whole ordeal came to be. The younger officer continued. ''There has been talk among men that leading the mutiny is a person long thought to be dead...''

The Bellatorian commander looked around to find no unwanted participants who could butt in their conversation. He motioned for centurion to follow him to the back of the stables. Despite the strong smell that can reach unbearable heights during the hottest parts of the day, it was the most private place that offered no disturbings. Higher ranking soldiers barely set foot if not for a dire motive. ''And what have you done with those who spread misinformation?'' He prodded roughly.

Tuscus blinked, well there's not much he could have done in the first place. ''I replaced part of the archers with younger recruits. The rest were sent to weapons managing duty,'' he wrinkled his suffering nose, ''and a good number is tending to horses.'' Oh dear gods, his eyes were starting to sting. It's like Glaber planned this as an interrogating tactic, and it was working rather well.

If the legatus was bothered by the stench, he refused to show it. After all, he's served longer than most people here and had the pleasure of working with horses as a younger lad. ''Good, good...'' He nodded, rumors should stay rumors. Tuscus did a fairly good thing, although it would do no one for the rest of the man to have their fate falter. Drastic measures would then be in order... ''What of you? What are your thoughts on the matter?''

Breathing through the mouth proved to be even worse option, but the leader of Legion's cohort prevailed. ''I... I know that no Bellatorian soldier would sully the honour of the Legion absent proper cause.'' Try as he might, it was a gamble with life now. By all rights, openly speaking against a position such as legatus was asking for trouble. He tried to stay neutral with the statement as he could. The rest is in the hands of Gods... Or whatever whim Glaber decides as most favorable in his head.

Luckily, the legatus showed a tiny smirk. ''A sound judgement.'' Patting the man with excessive force on the shoulder, he sent him back to his assigned post. Any more time here and the centurion would probably barf. He didn't need that added to the horrible air that was produced by stables. An old trick is to always remain downwind to avoid most of the putrid bane.

Alas, the legatus' free time was scarce. In the times of crisis it was non-existent. He'd check those archers next. Young ones could use a bit of scare that the rank of legatus brings down upon their inexperienced minds. How else would they toughen for challenging moments in future endeavors?

Now whe-...

''Approaching testudo!''

...Well, they certainly didn't waste much time. Not few hours and they attempt another march at the walls. Glaber will make sure the numbers of traitors are cut in half and show how foolish it was of them to turn their backs on the Republic.

''...-d arrows until they reach shooting range!'' When legatus climbed the high ramparts, the fresh of the batch soldiers Tuscus mentioned were already nocking arrows, pointed at the slowly upcoming wave of familiar reddish hue of shields. But no gonfalonier? That was certainly an oddity.

''Has there been any sighting of foreign invaders?'' He asked the one nearest one standing close to the far right.

The younger soldier couldn't be more than twenty-two summers. He shook his head in negative, but his gaze didn't leave his former comrades. ''None that hold useful description.'' Sneering in disgust he added. ''Fucking cunts, all of them. They are nothing but walking corpses at this point... Not deserving of a proper burial.''

Any further talking of a hot-blooded soldier were interrupted by a new arrival. The armour and extra additions on his uniform marked him as an optio. Second in command of another centurion. ''Hey, less talking there! Ring that crown with eyes or have the two you possess ripped from fucking skull!''

That notion alone made the young soldier stiffen and turn off everything around him but the intended targets. ''Apologies...'' He mumbled the word automatically.

The centurion's deputy snorted, cuffing the lad on his head. ''Apologize all you want to fucking Pluto! If you lack the interest to meet with him this day, send those filthy collaborators in your stead!'' The rugged man reprimanded the newbie. ''What was Tuscus thinking, sending you languorous lot up here?'' Just then did he notice another man, dressed in a standard infantry armour. ''And you, which cohort do you belong? Did that shit Calvisius send you?'' Seeing a raised brow from the Glaber, he dismissed him quickly. ''Go back and tell him I have plenty of ill-matched people here.''

Enough was enough, as entertaining as this brief argument could turn, Glaber would rather enjoy the look on optio's face when he finally realizes who exactly has he been chastising this entire duration. That is until...

''Is that proper testudo?'' The nearby archer muttered out loud, consequences be damned.

Glaber, being the one with the most keen eye and familiarity with the multi-use tactic took a long, hard glance at the mass. True to the words, it was very poorly performed. It was obvious even from his current vantage point. ''Yes, the ranks are much too loose with shields not providing sufficient protection.'' It was like there was not enough space between units to make the maneuver possible. Either the men were considerably bloated or were they hiding something?

Something was definitely amiss, and legatus did not like it one bit. The worst thing that could happen was them pulling an unexpecting move thus gaining considerable leverage in this conflict. That won't do, not if he had anything to say about it. ''Divide archers into groups, focus arrows at three specific points and break their formation.''

The rude deputy looked at the enemy then at Glaber, repeating the action twice. Caught flat-footed, he seemed affronted. ''Who do y-...?!''

''Legatus Sextus Claudius Glaber, commander of the Sixth Legion Cyrenea.'' The clear introduction made the closest bowmen choke on their spit, the hot-blooded lad was caught between laughter and trying to hide it altogether, and deputy was catching flies with his jaw hanging in open shock. Maybe the part of blame was on him because, with his mind rushing and running through all kinds of different scenarios about this unexpected, ill-timed snafu, he forgot to properly dress as befitting his rank. He even forgot to put on a helmet. Not that he would ever admit the blunder out-loud.

''Fuck the Gods...'' Went as the most used words of the day perfectly depicting the collective 'Oh shit' reaction the mostly green wall crew just had.

''... T-Take positions and grab hold of your cocks! Those are no mere traitors we face today, but Bllatorian soldiers familiar with our way of war!'' Glaber had to give him a point at how swiftly he recovered from an embarrassing situation. Yet it was most likely that he will remember the moment he talked trash to the man who was basically his boss and could order his death for such slight.

Well, that is up to a debate... More pressing concerns take priority right now.

For the most part Glaber's choice of dispersing testudo seemed the most logically sound decision. It held the moving fortress of men at bay for the first few minutes. The way they adjusted by huddling the formation brought a brief feeling of annoyance to the legatus. However, he and probably that who took command of the good chunk of his Legion, knew it can only hold so much. If his adversary expected that archers would waste the projectiles he was grievously mistaken.

The fort was well equipped for battles of attrition, and with all available materials they could produce enough projectiles to continuously fire for twenty-four hours straight. The front watch towers each held a ballista that he intended to make full use of just so if the enemy proved to be persistent. For now, those people below were not his subordinates or comrades anymore, but enemies of Republic that had the gall to switch sides and wore together with some pretentious nation crazy enough to stand against Bellatoria.

The Bellatorians were conquerors, never those conquered. As his uncle Gaius used to say in one of his many letters when serving office in a Hellenian campaign. After the dust settles and reckoning comes, then will he be fit to be called the one who smothered the high treason.

Everything was according to plan. Everything. There was not a soul among the dirty traitors that would dare to press further, their apparent lackluster 'allies' were barely providing fire support to keep the testudo standing. Although those bows or whatever they used were a strange contraptions... He'd have to at least acquire one at the end and see if it can be proven as useful to the Legion. Or as a bargaining chip for his further ascending among political ranks.

Despite being used to the life of a soldier and commander, life moved on. He definitely didn't want to remain one for much longer. Like all men, his body is aging, not enough to be too concerned but the future had to be considered if he is to honour the family name and status.

Such was the ideal path Glaber has envisioned for himself. And such path would have come to fruition nine times out of ten...

For those existing outside of time, not bound by mortal plane and laws, this one was such event. The tenth. An instance where a foolishly brave or bravely foolish man, stripped of armour bearing only the ever faithful crossbow comes running straight out oh the confines of shields. Unrestricted by his standard armour with a little more speed than the fully armed Alvarezian arbalist would be able to, the crazy suicidal bastard runs and runs...

He runs even after a first arrow grazes his left arm. Blood trickles, staining his sleeve dark crimson, but he ups the pace more. Second shot scrapes his thigh and the third pierces the side. He knows that if he stops now, he'll become a human cacti, so with adrenaline fueling his body and disregarding the bleeding for the time being, Lieutenant Enrique 'Kiko' Casillas pushed through fifteen more paces before making a leap not too dissimilar to the diving into a lake.

Another arrow makes her way in the middle part of his thigh several inches below the bum. Casillas did scream in pain, but the act was negligible by a single bolt fired from the outstretched crossbow. It might have more force behind than a regular arrow yet the range is what every arbalist is aware that their weapon lacks in comparison to the traditional use. No matter, they traded range for power. It's an equivalent exchange of sorts, you can't have it all in one pack.

*BOOM*

In all likelihood, the moderately thick wooden gate exploding into pieces of scobs and spall was not what most people on both sides expected to witness after the man's mad stunt.

''Vámonos! (Move on!)'' The cry of the sergeant Fontes broke the short respite and snapped the stunned troops into advancing further. So this is what the Lieutenant had in mind. Truly an example of a loyal and brave soldier. That which life should not be squandered yet. ''Murillo! García! Sácalo de aquí! (Murillo! Garcia! Get him out of here!)'' He pointed at two more Belattorians closest to him. ''You two, help that man!''

He didn't wait for any acknowledgment of his orders, they would likely do so just to get out of battle themselves. He didn't care right now. Now it was someone else's turn to show their mettle. Loathe as he might, if Lieutenant had such high hopes for the girl he might as well take the chance. But first to do something important that he might regret later.

In the middle of advancing Bellatorians and a few Alvarezians, he almost lost his head if not for the lucky shielder that was at the right place. Shaking the fear off, he quickly reached the dazed girl an did the only reasonable thing...

*SMACK*

He punched her in the face. Hard.

Never before has Dimaria Yesta been exposed to such great amount of physical pain at once. Training was another matter, you only got sore and hurting for the most part and just get used to it. This was focused in one spot on her cheek with intent all to clear even the freaking moles would miraculously regain eyesight and see stars for the first time ever.

''Hijo de p..! (Son of a b..!)''

''Oye! Despiértate! Want to be a soldier? Here's your chance, right here right now! Show us what you're made of and maybe then people start respecting you!'' The fuming girl went to turn at the place where Casillas' body was no more. ''Snap out of it, chica! Do this for the Empire! And teniente!''

A stray shot meant for Fontes was closing in fast. He knew it would hit, he cursed himself for even considering this rubbish. All the hairs on his neck stood straight up at the sensation of the impending death. Few sensations could rival it, since people who actually experience that split second where it all seems to flash are either dead already or so few they don't like to share the experience. What sane man would, anyway?

Will he be considered sane if not for looking right at the tool of his supposed death held in the hand of the girl who he almost started a cutthroat session hours prior? ''Qué cara..?'' He stuttered, not being able to finish the sentence.

Why did air seem so much thicker now?

The deadly wooden stick snapped in half by the Yesta's pressure hold. Her amber eyes now wide open, glinting with cruel intentions. To those who wronged her, that is. ''Want to see another trick? Take a seat and get out of the way.''

With the majority of the battle moving to the interior of the fortress, Dimaria started out slowly, one step then another and then another one came until she was but another blurred images among many others in the beleaguered stone structure.

Fontes didn't know, and Dimaria may or may have not choose to ignore the fact that the little magic trick that seemed trivial to her was being witnessed by their very familiar acquaintance. General Felix watched her retreating back as the girl plunged into the chaos itself as if not carrying or fearing the clash of iron. Such power and aptitude, it was as if being blessed by the higher forces... No Gods themselves. ''Fascinating...'' Many years have passed since he smiled so widely and felt this kind of satisfaction.

It was like Troia only happened not long ago.

XxX

It moved...

Like a river of dirty slit and slosh, they clashed against each other. Former comrades in arms, once parts of the same unit rushed in with their blades drawn. Screaming, yelling, craving to inflict the finishing blow as each swing drew blood, making the red liquid spatter on the ground.

It flowed...

An arrow through the eyes, a gladius trusted through the ribcages. A spear pierced the stomach bursting on the opposite side. The withering havoc that wreacked the inside of the once majestic vanguard that was Cyrene's main Legion post.

And among all the chaos she stood...

An unsuspecting witness, an unbiased watcher send to record the images of the festering conflict that was to escalate on a much bigger scale soon enough.

She stood...

The one whose ancestry held no meaning to familial members. Unknown to death, came down on a journey to seek a purpose of her own choosing. Not another's, never another's. None would decide in her stead, none will think twice looking her straight in the eyes and whispering the ridicules before realizing how mistaken they have been.

Her famous last words before she strode in battle to bring calamity...

Age Seal.

The world stopped, yet she moved...

It was the quiet that followed. A shocking swerve, when all the people and metal stop making noises... She let it sink in as if trying to savor the the taste of succulent cochinillo asado.

The first swing cut across the neck, but no blood started seeping out. Paying it no heed, with fast steps came the downward swing catching neck aorta directly. Each stroke came different than its predecessor, it was a myriad of slashes and occasional stab. And her enemies... All they could do is stare blankly ahead, their faces contorted in the same grimace that came with their current state of mood.

None of them knew, none of them was aware of the impeding death for they were all helpless, hapless and hopeless before the vessel of the entity governing time itself!

Holding ones fate in your hands has an appealing taste, but...

Watching them squirm, wiggle while their puny minds try to comprehend the futility of the action... it brings entirely another brand of satisfaction. This was real, this was how it felt to be free, to have your own playground where none but you hold power. Your word was the only absolute.

This is how Gods work...

One last stroke, with her back turned, Dimaria panted from strain. ''Tick... tock.'' Raising her left hand in the air, thumb pressing heavily on her middle finger. ''Time's up... Now, drop dead.'' There was a snap, perfectly done like a rhythmic follow-up.

The flow continued, the world was once more in motion...

''ARGH!''

''FO-ULRHG!''

''HUGH!''

The cacophony of pained moans, groans and other kinds of pain exclamations went on and on. Dozens of soldiers posted to defend the high walls with their marksmanship met their demise at the hands of the opponent they didn't see. The one they never could've foreseen. She was the worst kind of opponent to them.

''Feeble mortals...''

The naplessly sounding words rang pretty loudly through the blonde soldier's head she had to find support on a wooden beam that made one of the watchtowers on the walls. This whole ordeal took a lot more out of her than she originally estimated it seems. Not good, she'll have to do more endurance exercises in the future.

But, it was of no concern for now, her job was largely done. Without any extra fire support, that general what's-his-name could overrun the rest with sheer numbers while she takes a short...

''RAAGH!''

If it weren't for the fact that the idiot who wanted to sneak up on her was, well an idiot who announces his presence like a shrieking fowl, the lady swordswoman would be one arm short today. 'Never underestimate utility of someone's stupidity.' Was the life lesson of the month.

''Tch,'' Dimaria gritted her teeth as the eager man went to severe her head in one swoop. Or rather than that, he was keen to do as much damage to her so she would likely die from blood loss and damage. Prick had another thing coming for underestimating her like that. ''What's wrong... *huff* tough guy? Never had a woman *haah* best you at swordfight?'' She taunted through heavy breaths.

In truth, she was only trying to throw as much bullshit at him it would make him lose that little rationale to make clear decisions. In battle, mainly one-on-one fights, focus is what keeps a person a step away from certain doom. Well, the theory is all good and dandy, but whoever said that didn't account to the fact that rage gives a person almost two-times the strength they already had.

''So yeah, there's that too.'' She thought dryly and withheld a painful yowl as the gladius manged to partly pierce through her swordarm's protection. As it stands, the Bellatorian after her is stronger in terms of brute strength. He was apparently no slouch with a sword either. Two very deadly combinations in a combatant.

She, on the other hand, had an advantage of her agility and nimbleness. And while she's proud to say that her own physical fitness is far above most common women, it'll do her squat if she starts prolonging this duel. She definitely can't best him like this, not in current form. And her special trump card was... temporarily indisposed for the lack of a better term. So, it's all came down on raw skills and wit.

Going down stairs was a big no-no. With all the ground action turning into a medley of faces in familiar grab, she wouldn't count her chances that a lucky helping hand shows up.

''Besting?!'' The angry Bellatorian huffed like a man running up and down hill several times in one try. It was more due to Glaber's frustration than anything else. And the fact that the woman's sting managed to hurt his pride as a soldier. He was absolutely ecstatic in the worst possible way! ''You spew insults yet have no action to support claim! I see it within you; every strike smeared with hesitance! You have liking of a soldier but lack any experience!''

To demonstrate the fact, Glaber feinted a strike at her cutlass, and predictably she made to block. With a skillful move befitting his years of serving in the Legion he hooked his blade against the overly protruding guard of the woman's sabre and pulled her towards himself. ''This is the might of the SIXTH LEGION!'' With a mighty bellow he rammed his free fist into her lower stomach. The unexpected move caught her off guard as the saliva and air flied out of her mouth and straight to legatus' chest armour.

Taking hold of her bright tawny mop he yanked her off before she made full contact with him and threw her towards the edge. She spat another glop of liquid, this one carrying a light crimson hint. Clutching the throbbing place where she's been struck, the tall blonde barely stood on her wobbling feet, but her fierce glare stood out the most.

Glaber's brows creased. Despite the wounds she suffered she refused to stand down. Those eyes, the rich amber he's never seen before, glowed with impedance. It would be so amusing if he didn't have to kill her. Priorities come first. ''That,'' Glaber indicated her face with his blade tip, ''is a good gaze to have. Had Gods only made you born as another...'' He shook his head, he'd admired her spirit and tenacity enough. The only thing he could offer was a swift, clean death. Taking hold of his hilt with both hands he walked closer and raised the gladius high for a final thrust...

''That's exactly why...,'' Glaber heard it loud and clear. He heard it even after his head, absent his helmet, made contact with hard concrete as his body tumbled down the rocky stairs. When the noise stopped at long last, he could see the cloudy sky, but his ears failed to pick anything else. Did the fighting end? Who won? Did he lose, from some woman at that?

Legatus' muddled musings were put on abrupt hold as a shadow hovered above, blocking the white foamy sight. ''Legatus Glaber.'' The man in question barely recognized his name being called. ''Gratitude for keeping my Legion. Now, I relieve you of command.'' Still nothing, it came mostly as a blurred out gibberish. Whose Legion?

*SQUELCH*

''Ahh, a pity. But there is only one to hold supreme position in the Legion.'' Felix muttered in a casual tone, kneeling down to the stabbed head of a dead Legion commander. After a grunt and a lot of effort the head came off, even if in a messiest way possible. Least the face was clean, if you ignore the blood dripping from cracked parts of the skull.

The fightings have come to a stop...

Holding the head like it was a trophy on display, Felix shouted for all to hear. ''Soldiers! Brothers in arms! Here is your legatus, removed from life, weak!'' Rows upon rows of legionnaires have already dropped their blades in the sign of surrender, Felix's men securing those still living. Some searching for any stragglers trying to escape or the ones hiding. ''Brothers! I come before you on this day, asking for naught but to pledge your loyalty upon one true Bellatoria! Join me in the noble quest of ridding the beloved motherland of the parasitic idlers that reside across the sea! Lying in their beds, devouring olives, drowning themselves in wine and enjoying the pleasures of body!''

He was passing the nearest batch of lined-up kneeling prisoners, each man behind holding gladius to execute on orders. ''You,'' Felix called the oldest one looking, likely a centurion, ''what is your name, brother?''

The man with a short, scraggly beard was silent. Not wishing to even look upon his captor, but stubbornly starring at the dirt. No, not dirt, the ground soaked in blood of his comrades who died to defend the name of the Republic. And to fall to these dirty traitors of all things!

''Your actions speak louder than any words. Do you despise us? Myself?'' He indicated at the other captives, all accepting their obvious fate. Or so they thought. ''Is there any among you who ever held doubt in why Bellatoria had the famous Sixth Legion stationed in this wasteland? Trade? Spice? All fabrications!'' Felix exclaimed.

''What would you know of it...''

The tall man's head snapped to the source, and it was the very same soldier he first approached verbally. ''Have you found voice?'' He asked, sounding excited for some reason unknown. ''Let the man stand and speak, we are all equal as soldiers.'' He commanded and the designated captor pulled him up, albeit reluctantly, the weapon still poised to strike if any foul play happened. ''You may give voice to thoughts, brother.''

Calvisius looked at the apparent leader of rebellion like he just told the stupidest joke ever to grace his ears. What in Gods names was this man's game? Did he try to gain their loyalty by killing half the Legion off, that really scored him some points in almost anybody's book. ''... What do you know of Senate's doing?'' He gulped in slight fear at seeing the glee in the eyes of a man who has yet to let go of the dead man's head.

''I know...'' Felix grinned spreading his arms wide. ''Nothing! And yet I know everything!'' Calvisius now seriously thought that this man is a little out there. How the hell did he managed to convince half the Legion to his side is anybodies guess. ''Marcus Tullius Cicero and his pilfering clutch are the reason for the depravity that struck our dear motherland! You, of the Sixth are the living proof he fears the strength he cannot control. Keeping you all here, as one would a guarding dogs!''

''I extend my offer once more, for all of you spared by Gods, you whose wit was faster than their pride! Join me as the reformed Legion and bring those that have so wronged you to justice!'' Sheathing his sword and ridding his other hand from the Glaber's scone, he both literally and formally extended his hand.

Disbelief, shock, incredulity, astonishment... They were swapped between men in a myriad of swirling emotions. The accomplished centurion was first one to recover. ''Who in Jupiter are you?''

Disappointment marred the Legion's ringleader. Younger generation tend to forget, but even the elder need to be reminded before memory fades. Clever trick from Cicero, clever old fox indeed. ''My brothers, the hand of Senate has made many forget the past triumphs, refusing to honour the name of those that has served and brought glory to our nation...'' In the likes of talented performers, he took the central stage in the fortress' yard, surrounded by the mass that are about to become the first stepping stone to justice.

''... I am Lucius Cornelius Felix, former legatus of the Sixth Legion, General of Bellatorian Great Effort, conqueror of Hellenia Magna and a political prisoner of the corrupt Senate!'' He bowed theatrically to the gathered crowd. Many years-serving soldiers were gaping like fishes on dry. The others were blinking in a silent shock at the return of the supposed dead man from his grave.

''Brothers, there is no friend that served me and no enemy that has wronged me whom I have not repaid in full. The decision is yours to be taken. Which shall you be?''

XxX

''Good grief, that guy's noisy...'' Dimaria sighed, sitting on same spot she used when throwing that last Bellatorian off. It was so risky she almost laughed at how one misstep could spell instant demise. But it worked, and she was here and the brute was dead. She thought Felix hurried a bit with dispatching the injured man, because she'd like to see if he was able to survive with injuries inflicted from that fall. Even with his armour, the fact he forgot to wear headpiece is what helped her in the long run.

Some may call it dirty trick. Waiting for your opponent to get closer, giving him a sense of security that he won and then in one mighty leap turn the tables like she did with a stride to his feet. A simple flip, a counter that made him lose all the balance and roll down like a pebble. ''Heh, fuck it. All's fair in war... battle and that stuff...'' The young blonde said, massaging the tender spot she's been hit on her stomach. Yup, that's gonna leave a mark, no doubt.

''Ahí estás, chica.'' Aww, and just when she was getting a good deserved break.

Peering to the side, her less favourite soldier came in sight. ''Sergeant Fontes, you took your sweet time,'' deliberately making a pause to look around she spread her arms much like Felix did, but for entire different purpose, ''mission accomplished, sir.'' She smirked with a little jeer, masking the pain racking her through various places.

The man in his mid-twenties snorted lightly, seemingly overcoming the past surprise of her little demonstration. ''Can't say it all went to the plan... You look like shit, chica. Better look for a medic soon.''

Oh now he's worried for her well-being. How adorable. ''Right, there's probably tons of other guys needing a fix. I'll be alright.'' Standing up slowly, she inspected her bloody forearm, the gash was long yet shallow, thank Chronos for armour. ''Do me a favour, check my back. All good there?'' She turned around to allow better view.

Fontes was honestly a little surprised, again, by how she can shrug some things and get in another gear. ''Just a tear of clothes on the back, scrapes mostly. Todo es bueno.''

''Mhh. Gracias.'' Glancing at the Bellatorian get together down, she could see that many if not all captured soldiers acquiesced to switch teams. Good for them. ''So that's it? Our first victory, got new allies. What's the next agenda?''

Throwing her his best unamused expression he could muster, Fontes replied. ''I'm not exactly that high on the ladder to know those things. We report to the Capitán Valdez and then wait for him to make plans with this Felix hombre.''

For a moment Dimaria looked like she wanted to inquire something, but held her tongue. She started her descent and that annoying feeling of people stealing constant glances and drilling holes in her back with their eyes nagged her on. She dealt with a lot of shit today, so the blonde swordswoman had little to no patience. ''Out with it.''

The arbalist sergeant stumbled and almost missed a step. Was he that obvious? ''What was that...? That magic you used?''

Ah, and here it was. Curiosity. Tell or not to tell. No doubt her actions would be squeezed through so many grapevines she could care less. Next thing you know, she's a celebrity. But cons of being a center of attention are the 'gazes'. Now, Dimaria is no shy girl, but she respected her privacy and had no time to waste on needles questions and someone stopping her at every other turn. So, all she had to say was. ''That's for me to know...''

''Eh?'' She just ended it like that. He half expected a sass or snarky remark but she just left him hanging. In more than one way, that's a cruel, but also witty, response in itself. Doesn't mean she had to outright tell him the whole thing. Even if he outranks her, magic was not his forte and if the dead bodies she left in her wake are any indication, he wouldn't even pry the answer from her cold, dead body.

''... But Fontes,'' Giving him a distinctively cruel glare over her shoulder, Dimaria issued a warning, ''hit me like that again and your arm goes to sleep. Permanently.''

On that day, Bartolo Fontes decided to stay as far away possible from sassy, blonde girls. He didn't even like blonde hair. Best are the morenas that know cha-cha-chá. Yup, that's acceptable level. No blonde girls for him ever.

Wait a minute... ''What kind of Esturian has blonde hair?'' And he just now remembered that little piece of information.

Oh, this chapter took me forever! Three times I had to do a rewrite and still couldn't make it right. Originally it had a far different context and play than what you have here. After many days, I decided to split the action from our gang of gladiators to the new players that are to take the stage soon. Expect more familiar faces to pop-up in the latter chapters!

So, review, comment, give a burn (as long as it's creative and well-structured), or praise (we all love those!). PM if you got any further questions, I can promise to answer as quickly as possible. What I can't promise is to give spoilers. Nope, that's crossing the line.

Axel wishes you all good night and buenas noches! Or if you live in a different time zone on the other side; Good day and buenos días!