From Kanuro5: Not much to say, except thanks for all those who read up to this point. Enjoy!
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Fact vs Fiction
Day 50 of the Campaign
A sizable fort of Roman origin stood tall and proud, amidst the ghastly forest that overlooked the lone road to Samarobriva. On top of the ramparts stood the Briton, Talorc, his eyes scanning the endless amounts of trees for any signs of movement. Roman movement. He remembered the orders his king gave him two days ago, 'You shall stay here along with 100 men and keep close supervision around this area. I believe that the Romans have fled back to Alesia, but if I am wrong, I need you to send out scouts and report back with any news of Roman sightings. And if you deem it necessary, I give you permission to engage the remnant of the Twenty-Eighth to completely destroy them.'
He wondered how many Romans survived the Bloody Quarry. He was too busy driving his axe into the skulls of legionaries during the battle to notice. Some said fifty, others said in the low hundreds. If they were still alive, he could destroy them. They were demoralized, broken, and weak. A malevolent grin grew on his face. I could completely destroy the Twenty-Eighth Legion.
Upon choosing his hundred men, Talorc was pelted by groans of the monotonous task. The real glory was in seizing Samarobriva and killing the Praetor, not mopping up in the isolated quarry. Talorc would have none of the griping, their king chose him out of all the Britons to take up the prestigious mantle of protecting the Brittonic Army's rear from any attacks. And he would not fail his king. Besides, if the Romans came at them with their low morale, it would be a slaughter, and he would be the one to completely destroy the legion. Talorc was beginning to get excited; maybe the king would bestow the Praetor's armor and sword to him for taking up this daunting task?
But as his vision of future glories escalated, it quickly came crashing down as his eyes fell upon the distance of the endless forest. He remembered how he stood in the exact spot he did last night, looking out in the distance where a low, orange glow illuminated the mass of the forest. The glow was a few miles away, exactly where the battle in the quarry was.
He received an alert from sentries of the glow and was called up to look upon it. Something was already odd that day, the 15 men he sent to excavate the quarry did not return before sundown. Talorc then sent 30 men to investigate the glow and to search for the excavation team. The search party returned two hours later with the most bizarre report.
Upon reaching the segment of the road where the ambush occurred, several of the Britons found the two dead sentries that were posted. As the Britons walked deeper into the quarry itself, they found that flames had consumed most of the frozen quarry. All the Roman bodies were gone from the quarry while the Briton corpses were thrown in large piles. A mass grave had apparently been dug and the Roman bodies inside were burning with the intensity of the sun. But the strangest part of the report was the whereabouts of the Legion. It was gone.
The scouts had reported that they found no tracks going forward to Samarobriva, and no tracks going back to Alesia. The tracks within the quarry were already muddled from the battle from both sides fighting; there was no telling where the Legion could have ventured after they cremated their dead. The remnant of the Legion had utterly vanished.
Talorc was tempted to send a report to his king. He held off on it, he wanted to be absolutely sure where the legion went before alerting his king. With the blizzard clear and now a light snow falling gracefully in its wake, he would send several men combing the area of the quarry, searching for any signs of Roman life. He would not fail his king.
Roman Encampment
Unknown to Talorc and the rest of his men, the Legion did not disappear, not entirely. Knowing that the flames of the cremation would alert any remaining Britons, the brothers ordered the Legion and baggage train to move deep into the forest past the quarry. Moving on the road was forbidden as long as the Britons were still in the area; the Legion would have to move stealthily through the forest, at the cost of hindering their movement.
Upon the orders of Vitus and Proculus, the Legion would not set up a fortified camp in the woods; instead they would post sentries along the outskirts of the forest to keep a lookout for barbarian movement. The centurions told the brothers the obvious disadvantage of no fortification for the camp. But the brothers responded with care, citing that constructing a fortified camp will alert the unknown number of barbarians to the Legion's whereabouts.
Beneath the endless tide of white, grey, and beige of the forest, one could spot many figures wrapped in crimson. At this moment, the Legion was taking a break. They settled down in the concentrated area of endless trees, half a mile away from the road to Samarobriva. As the men rested and bundled up in their blankets, they spotted their adolescent leader walking among their ranks, speaking to several centurions who followed him.
"Speak the truth, how are we situated?" Vitus said with authority to the centurions, his eyes examining his men in the rank and file.
"After honoring our fallen, the morale of the legion is pretty strong, General. They are eager for the taste of barbarian blood," Cossutius stated.
Vitus simply nodded, he spotted two legionaries comparing arm wounds they suffered in the quarry attack. Vitus walked over to them, parting a smile as he reached forth and examined their wounds. "Greetings, men, how bad were you wounded?"
"Not too bad, General," the first one said as he showed Vitus his arm, "I took an axe to the forearm; my gauntlet negated most of the blow. Feels like shit, yet Fortuna watched over me, I can still move it."
The second one spoke, "I took an arrow to the arm, but it missed the bone," the man smiled, "My heart's desire was to part that archer's head from shoulder, but alas I never found the one who shot me."
Vitus chuckled, and moved the cloth away from his neck, revealing stitches on his jugular. "On the battle that day, this vile Germanian woman inflicted this nasty wound on me with my own dagger." He then showed the scar on the back of his shoulder, "Then she gave me this." He then showed him his bandaged left hand, "Then the bitch did this to me. She wounded the back of my hand as well as my palm. My palm hurts the worse; it throbs now as we speak."
"I hope it heals properly," the first legionary said.
"I voice similar sentiment, General," the second said with a friendly grin.
"As I hope both of your wounds heal as well," Vitus said, "As you were." The General patted them on the shoulder and kept walking, his centurions following close behind. He addressed them, "What of the condition of the fatally wounded?"
A centurion said, "Reports from the medicus say that the most fatal have stabilized and should recover, but they shall be incapable of movement until we reach a Roman city with proper medicine. Inevitably they shall slow the campaign down, but they shall live."
"As long as they are alive, that is all that matters. How do our supplies fare?"
Flavius Sulpicius, the quartermaster of the Legion, moved forward to speak, "Fortunately…well not quite in a way…when General Lucius sent the Legion to rescue you and your brother, he ordered the Legion to drop all supplies and bring only weapons. We still have the supplies that were left in camp. We had food to feed 4,000 men and blankets for 5,000. Now that we hold less than a thousand, we have enough supplies to triple food rations and triple the blankets given and still have more left over. The men will not succumb to frost or hunger. But…um, apologies, General, but must we keep to the woods? We were 9 days away from Samarobriva, but if we keep to the woods, that shall extend into…I cannot even count how long this trek shall be. How do we know that the Britons are out here?"
Centurion Galerius spoke up, "Because my boys spotted them. I posted some sentries by the edge of treeline in the quarry, after the funeral rites ended. They said they saw several walking figures around the flames of the quarry once we left. The bastards are out there."
"I see. But I must reiterate that if we travel by forest, our progress to Samarobriva shall slow to a crawl…"
Vitus groaned, he understood all this, but at this moment, caution was their best friend. "I understand your sentiments, but we have no way of knowing how many Britons are out here. If they spot us, we can walk into another ambush or maybe their king finds out and sends more men to destroy us. Until we have an accurate sense of where the Britons are, we shall keep to the trees."
"General, we should speak upon the reforming of the Legion," a centurion commented.
Vitus sighed but kept walking, "Forgive me, I had not inspected the individual units, how are the cohorts?"
Cossutius eyed the snow but spoke with certainty, "The cohort at the highest strength is the First, followed by the Second and Third. But the Sixth has been completely destroyed, as you know…the Fourth was mostly destroyed, only about 25 survivors still standing. The Tenth hold half their numbers, the Ninth, Eighth, and the Fifth hold a quarter of their numbers. The Seventh are down to 50 legionaries. And that is our tally, General."
"Fold the Fourth into the Third, and fold the Tenth, Ninth, and Eighth into the Seventh. The Sixth sacrificed themselves for the Legion, having any man take their banner would be morose."
Vitus looked over at the Thracians and noticed how Proculus was sparring with Oroles. He noticed how the Thracians surrounding his brothers were offering him fighting advice, while the Gauls who sat outside the circle, kept to themselves. Vitus narrowed his eyes and whispered into Cossutius' ears, "Bring Antonius and Aelianus to my tent immediately, along with several men. And bring Proculus and Oroles, and do be discreet about it."
"As you command."
Ardunas and his fellow Gauls spent their time alone, sharpening their arrowheads and tightening their bowstrings, all in vain attempt to keep their minds off the dead. Together, they once stood as twelve boisterous warriors proud to call each other brothers from different mothers, but now they sat as five dejected men, the seven empty spaces that stood beside them acted now as phantoms of their former friends. Ardunas reworked the string on his bow, his mind flashing the faces of the fallen in front of him. He should have tried harder…He should have killed Lugotorix when he had the chance! The Auxilia would have avoided the ambush and his men would have still walked the earth instead of being buried beneath it. Cassius…Gods damn that man!
The Thracian, Ralgylis, approached the archers, his face was as passive as the graceful snowfall, "Ardunas, the brothers have summoned you and your Gauls to their tent."
The Gaul raised an eye, "For what purpose?"
"They would not say. They only desire you and your kin's presence before them."
The Gauls stood and followed Ralgylis to the Roman tent. The Thracian stopped them before they entered. "No weapons inside the tent," Ralgylis told them. The Gauls stared at him, "Leave your arrows here, Auxilia troops are to leave their weapons before entering the General's tent. Roman law."
The Gauls grumbled, but ultimately complied. They casted away their arrows, bows, and swords and followed Ralgylis inside the tent. Inside, the Gauls were greeted by not only Vitus and Proculus, but Oroles and Ligadis, Antonius, Cossutius, Aelianus, and by several legionaries standing alert, all facing the barbarian archers. Their eyes contained the fury of fire and their hands were on the grip of their sheathed swords.
"What is this?" Ardunas demanded.
The brothers glanced at one another. Vitus spoke, "Ardunas, from what tribe of Gallia do you hail? What tribe of the men beside you?"
"I do not know what tribe my parents belonged to, they died when I was young. I spent most of my life with the Averni though, but was never formally accepted into the tribe. Bulox is of the Nervii, Golm is of the Pictones, and Humvox and Asarindus are of the Velavii tribes."
"And you speak the Gallic tongue?"
Several of the archers raised their brow. Ardunas answered, "Of course."
"How did you come by the Common Tongue?" Proculus asked.
"There are only two languages in the world that are essential to know, either Roman tongue or Greek tongue. In our travels across the lands, we learned the Common Roman Tongue by meeting several other mercenaries. What are these questions about?"
"To learn more about you and those of your ilk."
"Apologies if I say I would find it more appropriate if we could discuss such a topic in a less crowded room," the Gaul said, his eyes peering at every face aside from the brothers.
"To what end? Do these men bother you? Or is it that they stand armed in our tent?" Proculus asked.
Ardunas fell quiet, scratching his rugged beard. The air in the tent was awkward and surreal. He had a nagging suspicion that he had to choose his next words carefully.
"Vitus, Proculus," he said coolly, "I merely seek to understand, for what purpose are we to be interrogated for? Is this about your father?"
"You know that there is more to it than that," Proculus sneered. "You and your fellow "Gauls", eh? You say you hold the blood of these people? I wonder, if you bleed, will your blood be the same color as the Gauls?"
"My brother and I have been fools not to take notice," Vitus declared, "But now urgency has presented itself before us, and we mean to settle it—here and now."
Ardunas raised his head, an expression mixed with offense and anger fell on his face. "Urgency, you say? Are you implying what I believe you are—"
"What are we implying?" Proculus asked with a cold glare.
"We are not Britons."
"You do not have to be Britons to align with them."
Vitus added on, "The Cherusci were not Briton, but they took their side two days ago."
"You see, Ardunas, all the "Gauls" that we have met, Vitus and I, have borne false tongue and claimed to be something they were not."
"The man with the crescent moon scar on his face," Vitus jumped in, "He was at the meeting with the Cherusci and claimed to be Gaul, yet Antonius explains that it was he who personally killed our father."
"What about those Gallic cavalry mercenaries you told us about?" Ardunas inquired.
"They died on Praxus Hill."
"We fought by your side!" one of the archers shouted, "We saved your life!"
"As did Cassius on the road of Praxus Hill, he saved both of our lives," Proculus said with a hard sigh.
"But we fought against the Britons!" another archer said.
"No, we fought against Germanians, the rest of the Legion fought the Britons," Vitus corrected them.
"In all sense, it shall be safer for the Legion if you Gauls were killed." Proculus decided.
"But we are who say we are! We are of the Gallic blood!"
"How do we know that?" Antonius ringed in, "All of you barbarians look the same."
Ardunas walked up to Proculus, two legionaries moved forward and stood in the Gaul's way, but the archer's eyes were fixed upon the brothers. "Me and my brothers are guilty of many things, but betraying the legion or plans of future betrayal does not stand among them. You have the right to lay accusations upon us. Your logic is sound, especially after how you were betrayed. But as you lost family, I too lost family. Seven brothers died the other day, died protecting me and you two. I do not know what Cassius told you to gain your trust; and I am probably repeating what he said. But know that the only thing I gave you on that day was my word. That is one of the three things that can never be taken from me: my word, my bow, and my cock."
Ardunas' face contorted into an offended glare of steel, his eyes unwavering, his voice proud and strong. "Proculus, Vitus, do what you must to ensure the betterment of the Legion, but know that if you kill me or my men, know that I died without breaking my word to you. You paid for our service and we are loyal to you. I have never fucked over anyone in my life; the Gods damn me if I start now! Now that shit-spewing Briton, Cassius…he deceived you and had your father killed? Well he deceived me as well and had the men I was proud to call brothers killed. He has fled to the north, but I am still here. My fellow Gauls and I speak of vengeance against the Germanians, which now extends to the Britons. If we were true to the Britons, our most opportune time to kill you would have been in the chaos of battle, and then we would have slipped away in the confusion, as did Cassius. Yet we are here with you, Cassius is not. If you want to end our employment to you, in any way you see fit, then do so. But as I stated when I met you, you are facing an uphill battle, and you shall need all the aid you can get. As we need the aid in exacting vengeance against the Britons. So make a fucking move and be done with it."
The Romans didn't falter at the message. The brothers sat quietly, gazing into the eyes of Ardunas. Vitus finally broke the silence, "Ralgylis, take the Gauls outside the tent and keep watch over them until you are summoned."
"At once, Comman—er, General."
The Thracian pointed the Gauls to the exit. They found their way out of the tent, Ardunas walked out backwards, his eyes refusing to leave the brothers. Once the Gauls were gone, Antonius breathed easier and approached the brothers.
"What is to be done of them?"
"I do not know," Vitus said, rubbing his face, "The safest procedure would be to have them killed. But what if they spoke the truth?"
"And what if they turn to be like Cassius?" Proculus asked, looking at Vitus. "But Ardunas was right; his best time to turn against us would have been the ambush. Especially during the chaos, they could have placed arrows into us and claim it was Germanic arrows. What is he to gain by staying with us now, even when it makes him suspicious?"
A centurion raised his voice, "But they only stand at five men, General, what trouble can they cause?"
"Cassius was one man yet he was able to fuck the Legion in the ass," Cossutius added. "Ardunas never stood right with me, the man exhumed arrogance when we first met him."
"Half the legionaries here that we trained were arrogant upon our first gathering," Aelianus said, "But if they are genuine, then we need them. We lost too many men in the last battle; we need all the men of fighting worth we can gain to turn the stemming tide against Lugotorix. No matter how little. Maybe if we put a watch on them, guarantee they never leave our sight or the camp? If they act with suspicion, off comes their heads."
Cossutius shook his head, "Who would volunteer for such a task of constantly watching Gauls? Besides, after what happened with Cassius, the men may slay them unjustly on pretext of being a barbarian."
Ligadis made a quick, yet mocking chuckle, "You do not trust your own men, Primus Pilus?"
"Do not fall to confusion; I trust all of them with my life. Just not the Gauls'."
Oroles stood in silence, his mind drifting away from the conversation. He didn't trust Ardunas, but he never gave Oroles an immediate cause for alarm. Upon thinking back, Ardunas was prepared to fire an arrow at Lugotorix…but maybe that was an act? The Legion was too far gone to turn back, they were all in, and in this final battle they needed every man they could procure. But the question issued from Cossutius rang in his head, 'Who would volunteer for such a task of constantly watching Gauls?'
"Generals," Oroles barked, silencing the tent, "A proposal, if I may?"
"They are ready to see you." Ralgylis announced to the Gauls.
The Gauls exchanged cautious looks with one another but proceeded in. They stood tall before the stoic brothers, the legionaries beside them still held the looks of anger on their faces. If worse came to worse, then they figured they could seize the guards' weapons and fight their way out of the camp. Hopefully the gods would grant them such a mercy if it came to pass.
"Ardunas," Vitus said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, "What is it you desire most in the world?"
"I only hold base desires. I want to survive this campaign and enjoy the warmth of women and the delights of killing my enemies and the spending of coin. As I once said when I met you, I am the simplest man you shall ever meet."
"You base your loyalty on your pay?" Proculus asked.
"We do."
"Then stand tall and open ears to our decision. We have decided to spare your lives and keep you and your men in our employ…if we survive this and reach Roman lands once more, you shall be paid double for your troubles."
"Gratitude for reaching such a decision."
"I am glad, but Proculus was not finished," Vitus said. "But for the rest of the campaign, you and your men shall be monitored by the Thracian Auxilia of the Twenty-Eighth Legion. If you venture out to scout, two Thracians shall escort you. If you prepare to sleep, two will sleep beside you. If you need to shit, two of them shall be beside you."
The Gauls grumbled, but Ardunas chuckled bitterly, "So we are to be hostages?"
Proculus shook his head, "No. Try to perceive them as your bodyguards to keep you safe."
"A slave can perceive shackles as their master's affection but that does not necessarily make it so, now does it?"
Antonius stepped forward, "The Generals have spared your lives, while they could have easily seized it. You Gauls be grateful you yet draw breath, now shake their hands or salute the Generals."
Ardunas' eyes betrayed no emotion, yet his tone was cold, "Do you honestly believe that I shall shake your hand after you accused us and sicced the Thracians on us like guard dogs?"
"No," Vitus said softly, "I suppose not."
"Do not mistake intent, I hold gratitude that you spared our lives from the cross, but I know you do not trust us enough to give us the freedom we once had. So I shall not extend courtesies towards you two."
"So be it," Proculus said, "You are still in our employ and you shall be treated like a soldier of the legion. You know this only stands as a precaution."
"If all things are settled here…" Oroles said to everyone in the tent, before turning to Ardunas, "Bring your men, we are off."
"Off to where?" the Gaul inquired, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.
"To scout the area of any Britons, we need to find where they reside. If you value yourselves as scouts and seek to prove innocence, then grab your weapons and assist us Thracians in searching the area."
The birds were chirping rhythmically within the deep confines of the winterized forest, resting peacefully on warped branches burdened by the weight of snow. Within this woodland of frost and ice, Ardunas advanced forward slowly—his feet softly crunching through the snow. His bow was drawn and his arrow rested easy on the string, ready to be pulled back to its apex at the sound of a distant enemy. The Thracians and the Gauls have been searching for hours in the phantasm that was known as the Germanic forest. The grey shaded sky had transitioned into an exotic orange as day was preparing for night. Oroles crept behind the archer, one eye looking for any signs of life, the other locked on Ardunas.
Ardunas exhaled, he looked behind at Oroles with a smirk, "I wonder, oh mighty Oroles, must you stand so close behind me? I fear you may take me from behind against my will."
"Keep quiet," Oroles said in a whisper, "You know why I am this close."
"Ah, I understand," the Gaul said in a mocking tone, "In case I turn traitor and decide to attack you, you would be too close for me to use my bow. Is that it?"
"That is it."
Ardunas shrugged, "Good plan, not enough if such was the case."
"Why is that?"
"Despite how big I am, you know I am very quick."
"That you are."
"So why post only one man on me? Why do my men have two Thracians on them while you're the sole Thracian watching me?"
"Because I alone with my superior fighting skills shall be enough to kill you if you rebel."
Ardunas scoffed with a grin, "'Superior fighting skills?' And my friends say I am arrogant. You believe yourself the better?"
"I know I am. And I know that you know I am."
"But from what you said, do you consider your own countrymen weak?"
"No more than you consider the same thing with your countrymen. You do not, as I do not. We both know our men are skilled, but we are better. Simple as that."
"Simple as that," Ardunas shook his head with an echo. "With swords, shields, and spears…"Ardunas stopped to ponder it, and then he kept moving. "Indeed you are better. But how about we hold a proper contest between you and me, with the bow; and let us determine if you are the better."
The corner of the Thracian's mouth lifted, "You truly enjoy walking among us as if you have a cock to rival the gods, do you not?"
"Who says I do not? Why not flaunt the natural ability that the gods bestow upon you? Is such a wrongdoing? I know such is why the brothers set you and your men upon us, to remind us that we are mercenaries and you are part of the Legion."
Oroles couldn't help but smirk wryly, "You know nothing. Such decision was mine."
Ardunas turned, his face pouting, "You? For what purpose would you do that?"
"To survive. We are going back to face the Britons, and I saw something in your soul that I have seen in mine and the brothers'."
"And what do you see, oh seer?"
"The warming fire of vengeance that is to come. I see no notions of greed or guile when you spoke, only the fact that you wish to claim blood, as do we all. And walking with you now, I hear and see the truth, you hold no notion of betraying us. I placed my men on you not out of spite, but out of necessity. If I did not vouch for you, you may be dead. With my Thracians overlooking you Gauls, I hope to establish a connection with your men to heal this wounded trust with the Romans."
"So because we are non-Romans, you believe that gives us a meaning to bond with?"
"You do not agree?
Ardunas did not answer. He kept walking, a question popping in his head thirty seconds later. "'The truth' you say? The Julius's hold the right to the truth; they have a new weight of responsibility placed on their shoulders. So how about you? Have you told them the truth?"
"About what?"
"Oh, I am surprised, they must know that you hated their father, but I assume they did not know that you moved to kill him in the past."
Oroles stopped. Ardunas turned and enjoyed the look on the Thracian's face. "Surprised I know? Do not be. It is hard not to hear the viscous rumors from hundreds of Romans beside us. I heard it on the day I joined you. Knowing Lucius' temperament, it baffles me how you and your men were not crucified. Must be another part of the story that I did not hear about."
"Silence!"
"For what purpose? Because I speak the tru—"
Oroles tackled the Gaul into the snow and placed his hand over Ardunas' mouth and motioned him for silence. The Thracian pointed out ahead of them, the Gaul moved his eyes towards the direction pointed at. Within the endless concentration of trees, there was something moving slowly behind the foliage. The two men rose at a crouch and slowly crept up to the moving form until they stood fifty yards away from it.
The figure walked past the trees and came out of the open, revealing himself to be Briton in origin, his head slowly swiveling from side-to-side scanning the woods for the short commotion he heard.
"Bless the gods, after hours of searching, we have found one," Ardunas remarked in the softest of whispers.
"It does not seem like he has spotted us…Ardunas, do you see any more accompanying him?"
"Give me a moment…wait, there's movement behind him—one, two—there are two more accompanying him." As the words left his tongue, two more Britons came from the cluster of the trees and began speaking with the first. After what appeared to be some delegation, the Britons traveled northward on the road, the Thracian and Gaul tailing them from the forest.
Ten minutes elapsed in the tailing, when the three Britons stopped in the road and called out into the opposite side of the forest from Oroles and Ardunas. At once, seven more Britons came waltzing out from the trees and spent a minute or two speaking with one another.
A sharp chirp from a bird emanated to Oroles' right. Ardunas clicked his tongue twice to Oroles to get his attention.
"Did you hear that bird?" the Gaul asked.
"Yes, what about it?"
Ardunas mustered a proud grin, "That was Humvox." Ardunas whistled a staccato of bird chirps to their right. Within moments, the Gallic archer Humvox and two of the Thracians Oroles posted on him, came crouching from behind several trees.
The two Gauls shook each other hands with smiles; Ardunas spoke first, "Humvox, how long have you held us in your sights?"
"About five minutes, I was not sure if it was you. We followed those seven shits out there from the edge of the quarry half an hour ago."
"They were at the quarry?"
"They were. Scavenging their dead and investigating the burnt remains of the Roman corpses. We were fortunate they did not venture deeper into the forest. We followed them once they left."
"How did know you this was Humvox?" Oroles asked.
Ardunas looked back, "Each man under my command holds a unique call of a bird, and we have all memorized each other's call."
"What now, Oroles?" one of the Thracians asked.
"We give pursuit and track down their nest from which they crawled from."
And pursue they did. From the shadows of the trees, the mix of Thracians and Gauls stalked the Britons like ravenous wolves. They followed the slow moving Britons who walked the road seemingly without a care in the world. For half an hour they followed the Britons, until they noticed the Britons moving off the road and into the side of the forest opposite the Thracians and Gauls. The Auxilia and mercenaries ventured past the snow-filled road and took a closer look at the tracks embedded in the thick snow. Though the blizzard had covered a majority of the Britons' tracks, Oroles' Thracians and Ardunas' Gauls could still make out the traces of a large army on the move north. Especially an army that was in a hurry.
They followed the Britons deeper into the forest. The close cluster of trees began to widen until the Thracians and Gauls spotted a Roman fort in the middle of the forest. The square fort itself was small in scale; the same height but at least a quarter of the width of a traditional Roman Legion Camp. From the confines of the trees, they could see several Britons walking on the ramparts across the four-sided fort. Erected in the four corners were watchtowers constructed from fir and occupied by two barbarians each with bows and arrows. The Thracians and Gauls observed with deathly silence. They saw how the Britons they stalked entered the fort casually, how the gate itself opened, revealing around forty barbarians dwelling inside, most likely more remained unseen. They have found the nest, now was time to alert the Romans.
"I cannot believe it," Humvox whispered in disbelief. "We actually found them."
"Should we all return to the legion?" a Thracian asked.
"Not all of us. We need to establish a watch," Oroles said firmly.
"I agree," Ardunas chimed in, "Humvox, you stay here with the Thracians whilst Oroles and I report back. Hopefully we'll run into our men and send them here to observe the Britons. You must stay and keep watch over them, ensure us of their total number, study the fortification for weaknesses, and kill anyone that tries to head north to Samarobriva. Keep close proximity while remaining undetected. Do you understand?"
The three men nodded and like deer, they scattered into the depths of the forest to hide from the eyes of the Britons in the watchtowers. As the sun was beginning to set, Oroles and Ardunas retraced their steps towards the Legion, grins growing on their faces at the thought of the upcoming retaliation they would inflict on the unsuspecting Britons.
"A Roman fort?" Proculus asked, crossing his arms. Oroles and Ardunas stood at attention as they gave the report in front of the brothers and the fellow officers of the Twenty-Eighth.
"That is correct, General, a Roman fort" Ardunas reiterated. "Except, it was of a smaller scale than the nightly forts that the Legion constructed, before the Ambush. It looked as to house about a single cohort, no more."
Proculus turned to Cossutius who stood by him, the Primus Pilus remarked, "Most likely another fort that the Praetor's men used and was taken by the barbarians. How many men did you spot?"
"Around forty, but there are most likely more barbarians that dwell inside that we could not see."
"You say forty?" Antonius asked incredulously, "You have not laid eyes on the size of the army that attacked us?"
"No, we examined the tracks on the road that led north. Thousands of men ran—not walked—up that road with haste. Whatever garrison remains in the fort, it is under a thousand, from the tracks leading to the fort, my guess is under 150. Guaranteed."
"Any defenses? A moat? Watchtowers? A stockade? How long were the palisades?" Vitus asked.
"No defenses, the moat seemed filled. There were four watchtowers in each corner of the fort. No stockades. And the palisades were…about 8 meters in height," Oroles specified. "It seems like the Senatorial legionaries were in the midst of disassembling their camp when they were attacked."
"It is strange that the barbarians have not built defenses themselves," Antonius astutely noted.
"More than likely they did not figure that they would stay within the area," Oroles said, "Their men were scouring near the quarry and along the road, searching for us."
"Then now is the time to strike," Proculus said with a smile, savoring the thought of avenging his father. "If they are searching for us and find nothing, then they would return to Samarobriva, adding to Lugotorix's army. But if we linger here, they may find clues of our whereabouts. We must destroy them quickly."
"We can always besiege the fort, right? I mean that fort is more of an outpost for a single cohort, not thousands of men," Vitus suggested.
"That is true, General, but I fear such a siege will be time consuming. Who knows how much supplies they have in the fort, they could hold out for months while Samarobriva falls, plus constructing a battering ram will take some time. Not only that, but we risk discovery moving against the fort with large numbers. The Britons would be alerted, and have chance to slip from grasp and alert Lugotorix that we have not fled."
"It has to be quick and quiet," Aelianus remarked to the group.
"You speak of a raid?" Ardunas asked, his smile oozing of violence.
Aelianus smiled back, "Exactly. We mimic the barbarians. We attack in the dead of night with a few men of high skill and set upon them."
"Apologies, Aelianus, but I believe you forgot about the 8 meter high stake wall and reinforced wooden gate," Proculus said rolling his eyes, "How would we breach such defenses?"
"What about ladders?" Vitus said to himself. He then turned to the Chief Engineer of the Legion, Manius Acilius. "Would ladders suffice?"
"Yes…that could—ladders would work fine. We can construct ladders up to 10 meters to reach the walls and walk the ramparts."
"Excellent, how long shall construction take?"
The Chief Engineer looked around the forest and at the stationary legionaries, "With all the manpower and all the trees, to construct four ladders up to 10 meters and sturdy enough to have men climb…12 hours to make the ladders perfect. If we start immediately at sunrise, we would have it complete by sundown."
"In time for an assault under the cover of night," Proculus mused. "Still, we do not know the exact size of their garrison."
"Ardunas and I placed our men to scout the camp for the night, we shall see what numbers hide behind that fort come tomorrow," Oroles said with confidence.
"Then we all know our task?" Vitus asked everyone present. They all nodded. "Good, we shall plan more tomorrow, but as for now, everyone is dismissed. We need to set up sentries for the night in place of fortifications."
The Romans saluted the brothers and went their separate ways, as did Proculus. Vitus remained, stopping Oroles and Ardunas.
"I assume there was no trouble with Ardunas, Oroles?" Vitus asked with a hint of a grin.
"The only trouble presented was that he would not hold his tongue."
The Gaul rolled his eyes and made a half smirk, "Fuck you, Thracian."
Vitus turned to Ardunas, "You have done well today in scouting the fort. I pray that you shall continue in such efforts."
Ardunas smiled, "Gratitude, you honor me with such praise…buuuuut, you are still placing the Thracians on us, aren't you?"
Vitus smiled back, "Oh most definitely."
Ardunas respectably nodded, "Smart. You truly are learning, Vitus. I hope my continued efforts prove our innocence, but in the meanwhile…" Ardunas turned around and walked away, looking over his shoulder with a devil may care grin, "Fuck you too, Roman."
For those who know how long it takes to make wooden ladders, I'm sorry if I got the time estimation wrong. It just bugged me how in the RTW game it would take 6 months to make a pair of siege ladders and sometimes a whole year to make two or three pairs of ladders. The video of siege ladders say that at best it takes 24 hours to make ladders.
I would like to thank everyone who is continually reading this fic. I want you all to note that it is keeping me committed to the story. Truly, thank you all!
-Kanuro5