Tybur: Lords of Marley

by Invictus208

The Marleyan Empire is in its Golden Age, and it’s ruling house, the Tybur family, stands at the pinnacle of its power astride the whole world with their control over the Warhammer Titan. But their power attracts envious eyes from old and new enemies both within and without; enemies whose plans will seek to challenge the unity of both their family and their country.

2. Dominion

22 years before the Battle of Liberio

'Great eagle. Allow the freedom of the limitless sky be yours only to claim. May its cool air take away all your troubles, as your dark feathers find themselves washing against the wind's baptismal brush.'

Lord Tybur would write in his notebook, staring up at the bushes of emerald and sheen, whose thick canopy which blanketed the forest sent rays from the golden sun onto his cyan uniform to reflect its shine onto the linen.

'High Eagle. Let you grace the world with more of your kind, for your subsistence is not in conflict between you and your brother. You love your prey as honourably as your brother, subject to but the tranquil balance of Mother Nature's berth. To the heavens is your destination.'

With the last flick of his lead pencil, he breathed in the air thick with honey and sap from Autumn's lush, savouring every trickle of the refreshing cologne from the Trees' lavished flora.

'Mighty Eagle, how I long to join you in your flight towards the stars. But I stay grounded in this forest, lost to fear and ignorance. I am helpless, in spite of these trappings they call my strengths.'

The angelic choir of rare birds chorused atop their keeps of bark and leaf, calming his ears to heedlessness of far distant voices, just as the Forest's many inhabitants are detached from the actions of mankind. But following the finish of his third stanza, the man's gaze fell down to the shrubbery of thorns on the opposite side of the tree stump on which he sat. Staring at it for no particular interest, beyond realising that it's beauty paled in comparison to the high trees which held dominion over it. The features on his face dimmed in disappointment.

Seeking some sense of joy once more, he opened the palm of his right hand, raised it up flat and looked into it. While nothing but the hand's greases were apparent for the first moments, soon the peach colour of the skin diluted into a snowy white, and the centre rose up from the rest of his palm. The pillar of skin then began to mold like the metal of a blacksmith. It would form the sculpt of a white pine tree, its branches sharp and trunk smooth. His smile returned at this sight; this little test of creation.

'Sweet Eagle. These are weights on me. However, in the end, so I pray I may have them lead me to far above the trees like you.'

His eyes lingered on the tree sculpt for several seconds until he sensed a strong hand roughly grasp his left shoulder.

'I don't mean to disturb you, Master Aetius, but the Generals are waiting.'

The owner of the hand would say, the soldier looking up to see it was a tall blonde man wearing a scarlet red uniform with a gold plated pickelhaube helmet tucked under his arm. Sighing again, the lord got on his two feet, emitting a low grunt as he did so.

'Ah, well we wouldn't want to inconvenience the brass now would we Magnus?'

Aetius would reply, stretching out his arms and legs to loosen them after a long rest on the grass. Magnus rolled his eyes, remarking

'Do or don't, victory or death. Not a big deal over a shithole like this.'

'Easy there, old friend. You're starting to sound like a pacifist.'

'Pacifists?'

Magnus scoffed, as if both amused and insulted to be compared to one.

'I'd gladly whip the guard into battle over the homeland, but over a few dusty farms? Well, my input doesn't really matter on that, does it?'

Aetius laughed. While having Magnus as Prefect of the Guard technically made him a subordinate, Aetius regularly forgot that when they talked out of official settings.

'Take it as it is, Magnus. Not a big proponent of coming here myself. But I'll do my duty all the same.'

'Really? Yes, yes. Let's assume for a second that you can't finish this war in a matter of minutes all by yourself…'

Aetius shook his head and then went to saunter back towards the camp.

'And you can't convince me otherwise, Magnus. There are other avenues towards victory. But as you said, might as well head over and finish this spat.'

The Lord mused with a smirk.

Making sure to catch up to him, Magnus replied while returning a sarcastic grin.

'As you wish sir.'

The two men trudged down the mudded and grassy ridge that demarcated the forest, sauntering along the goat path which had been requisitioned as a route for supplies to the hungry army. Making their way down to the base of the hill, it wouldn't be long before they reached the enormous camp where Marley's Western Army resided on one side of the great Nasundar river. As they walked through the lane between the tents, Aetius cast occasional glances at the soldiers carrying out their usual duties.

The four divisions had been stationed here for six months now, far longer than what a logistician would recommend for an army of forty five thousand men, not even to mention eight thousand horses and other perishable assets. Supplies were not streaming in as easily in a lawless and rough country like this as they would in the well-developed lands of the central continent.

Aetius noticed how thin some of his soldiers looked as they passed, noticing especially how the medical wards have also been stocked full of patients suffering from all sorts of diseases native to this forsaken land. In his mind, the Lord began to even fear that an epidemic may spread among the ranks very soon, ruining their chances. The Confederacy had to be crushed now, for Marley and her warriors.

'Tybur!'

A man would gruffly shout, snapping Aetius out of his lamentations. Looking straight ahead, he would see the figure of a tall man with a burly golden beard and hair stroll over to the Lord and his herald.

'Aurelius.'

Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, Aetius recognised the man as Lord Constans Aurelius, his fellow gentry commander of the Marleyan Western Corps. When the two nobles got close to one another, Constans extended his hand out to shake, which Aetius, as a man of class, took.

'Gone to ponder the state of nature have we? Getting sick of the Marleyan swine?'

The bearded man said with a scent of callousness coming from his voice.

'Not at all. Just needed the Autumn air.'

Aetius responded flatly, a fake smile plastered on his face.

'Well, we'll be getting much smoke from the cannons soon enough, once we light up the Confederate camp.'

Constans replied in a hearty and loud manner, wiping his brow of the sweat summoned by the humid air.

'Though, I'd say you'd be more used to steam, wouldn't you?'

Aetius gave a dry cackle to Aurelius' insulting insinuation. Magnus on the other hand was glaring daggers at the other Lord.

'Steam which would burn right through your thick skull.'

The herald would snarl, only for Aetius to get between him and Constans, who looked like he was ready to snap Magnus' neck.

'Magnus, enough.'

Staring back at Aurelius, he'd ask with as civilised a voice as he could use,

'Forgive my prefect, Constans. Time has stolen our patience I'm afraid, and we're trying to make our way to General Lauri's tent.'

The indignation and anger on Aurelius' face was as unmissable as the sun. But his features soon relaxed, scoffing and turning around. Walking away from them, he'd turn his head and say back,

'I am as well. You're not the only noble commander here.'

Grimacing, Aetius would follow him, motioning for Magnus to continue walking along the path, whom obliged with an audible scowl.

'You could learn to be more composed when dealing with your betters, Magnus.'

Aetius said. The Prefect was a fine leader, a veteran and genius of military tactics even at the relatively young age of 32. But he always did have an attitude problem particularly when it came to dealing with nobles and even more so with Eldians.

'Betters? Well, forgive me again for calling out his offensive insinuations to you.'

Aetius rolled his eyes.

'Listen to me, our houses may not be on stable ground with each other, but we still serve the same country. We co-led the liberation of it after all. It's still important to recognise that.'

'Recognition of the size of an eggshell does not subtract from its hollowness.'

Magnus replied bluntly, taking out a packet of cigarettes and lodging one into his mouth. Offering the packet to Aetius, the Lord took one as well.

'Well, I can tolerate your cynicism till the Cart Titan needs to humanise again, but you let that reality slip to Constans I'll kick your ass.'

Magnus broke a smile for the first time in months at his Lord's comment, lighting a new match.

'An unlikely scenario without that hammer of yours.'

Both men laughed. Relieved that the tense atmosphere had been humoured away, they eventually reached the Generals' tent and were let in by the guards there. From the inside, they saw the council and at the centre was a slim old man. He had slick chestnut hair and was wearing a white uniform, with a large red aiguillette draped over it. Smiling upon seeing Aetius, he'd say,

'Ah Lord Tybur, welcome. I believe it's time we discussed our plan of attack.'

-

The war room was far from spacious or tranquil, Aetius Tybur thought. The odour and heat produced from three dozen old and middle-aged officers did not help him get comfortable, nor was he fond of so many dubious eyes falling on him. Even as a lord, an Eldian could not escape the chary gaze of the Marleyan brass.

They dared not linger on him for very long however. With Magnus sitting just next to Aetius, it would be an act not without punishment.

But before the meeting officially began, he might as well prepare for his presentation. Dropping his weight onto the table seat reserved for him, the Tybur quickly cast his cigarette butt onto the shadowed grass and stomped on it to get rid of its dying flame.

His hand making its way into his rugged cotton pouch, Aetius pulled out a folder, likely an inch thick and smelling of millennia-old parchment. He placed it gracelessly on the table in front of him. Two hundred hours of back breaking research, relays, and drafts has been leading up to this moment. His secretaries were nearly drowning in their sweat at the enormity of the work he made them do, but at least his strategy was composed at last. He felt sorriness for them, yet pride at the same time.

Touring the countless pages, he decided to conduct one last check-up on his work. Punctuation, sentencing, lining, diagrams, calculations, accounts, structure, logical consistency, tactical consistency; all appeared in proper order. He had to hand it to himself; who knew a battle stratagem could become such a work of art. He needed to arrange a celebration for his staff in the manor after the battle was won.

'Alright gentlemen, let's begin so we can skewer these savages in time for supper.'

A hoarse voice would utter with a posh undertone. The voice belonged to a relatively hoary and short man that had just walked into the tent, wearing a white uniform and a red aiguillette like the other officers. He had short silver hair and a sharp, albeit wrinkled face; one that had matured under the gaze of restless war. Sitting down at the front of the table, all the other generals in attendance ceased their chatter.

'Lord Aetius.'

He would address the Lord solemnly, looking at him with his hands clasped together on the table.

'I hear you have a new strategy prepared? Would you mind presenting it to us?'

Aetius cleared his throat and straightened his collar before standing up, all members of the general staff looking at him expectedly.

'Certainly not, General Lauri.'

Opening up his strategy tome, the Lord declared to the assembly.

'Generals and other esteemed officers. To recap on our current predicament here in Lak Nasundar, our scouts have reported a build-up of Western forces to a number of around eighty five thousand men, ten thousand horses, and three-hundred heavy guns.'

Weary murmurs circulated among the officers at such a large enemy force amassing not far from them. Noting their worry, Aetius continued:

'That is over a two-to-one advantage on their end. With the wide river that stretches between our two armies in the way, we can't deploy our titans against them in an attack. Assaulting them from the air is nigh impossible. Our airships are too slow and their Arsenal too large for us to get close enough.'

'Well then, your excellency, what would you propose?'

Asked the man beside Lauri; a fellow general and representative from the Supreme General Staff; Leonardo Calvi. Forever the sceptic and reservationist in military strategy, he'd grown to be an influential, if constant foil to many of Lauri's and, conductively, Aetius' plans.

His physical presence was in itself aggravating. His tired eyes and forever critical look on his wrinkled face always made the Lord rather anxious around him. Even then, his respect among the common brass was on par with Lauri, assuming the post of de-facto second-in-command of this operation and his question could not be disregarded. After taking a moment to collect his next words, Aetius responded,

'We bait them.'

Receiving more questioning gazes from his audience, the Lord smiled from this sudden intrigue he'd created. Opening up the codex, he flicked through the pages until he reached one with a diagram printed on the paper. He rotated it the other way to show everyone. It was a map of the region.

'We have little way of attacking the Confederates directly. But if we manage to get them to attack us first, it will be our opportunity to rout them.'

Calvi's eyes narrowed. He was not impressed. Lord Aurelius, who was sitting just one seat down from Calvi, scoffed.

'You want us to let them strike first? Are you mad?'

Aetius shook his head and placed one finger on the diagram page, highlighting two long black ink lines that were behind the symbol representing the river.

'Presumably, the Confederates are keeping a close eye on our own defences. If we make it apparent to them that we've thinned or withdrawn from the front line actually visible to them, then, God knowing, they would be emboldened to launch an offensive.'

Aurelius broke into a cackle full of scorn, shaking his head and saying,

'How would that be of benefit? Undermining our lines to provoke an assault from the enemy when we'd be at reduced strength?'

Casting a look at Calvi, he was agog for the General to step up and criticise the Lord as well. Before he could, Aetius had already responded by saying sharply,

'Will his Lordship wait until I've finished speaking?'

Pointing his command stick again at the map, Aetius continued,

'We withdraw to a more defensible position, leaving a small number of sentries to harass the enemy as they advance…'

He itches his nose and smiled at the faint whispers from the back of the table. Lauri looked at him with a confident smirk. Even with Aurelius' objections, the room was still attentive to the Tybur.

'Then…we hammer them with our own artillery once they've reached half-way to the second line.'

Aetius slid the stick across the paper to the red small red triangles printed at the top of the second line.

'We can assume that with their advantage in numbers, they'll throw everything into that sector. When that is apparent, we have the remainder of our artillery, likely a quarter each for both flanks, pepper them from the side.'

He slapped the stick against the ball of his right palm, using his own finger to draw attention to the rectangle symbols representing the cavalry.

'Using our mounted forces, we'll encircle the confederates and crush them from both sides.'

'What of potential Confederate reinforcements?'

General Lauri would ask, leaning into the desk as his intrigue deepened. Aetius smiled and pointed to the orange triangles at the back of the cavalry units.

'The threats to our own flanks will be secured by the forest to the South, and my guard to the North.'

Lauri chuckled, glancing to Calvi with a smug grin.

'You see here, General? A man with a strong heart and a strong brain, sacrificing his personal protection for victory. Sounds like a marvellous plan to me.'

'Marvellous?'

Calvi responded flatly, popping the cork from the wine bottle on the mahogany table and pouring himself a glass of Marleyan Riesling.

'I'm not so used to the conventions of warfare at the Western Frontiers, but if I'm in my right mind…'

The black-haired General brought the glass close to his lips, spared an intake of the rich scent and engulfed the liquid into his mouth. When he finished and placed the glass back down, Calvi continued,

'…I didn't once hear the mention of using our titans in your grand plan. In fact, I'm baffled no one else asked about it.'

Prefect Magnus coughed, the attention of the room focusing in on him.

'With all due respect, General….'

He began.

'Do you doubt the fighting capability of our countrymen?'

Calvi's brows narrowed, visibly insulted.

'Not at all, Prefect. I'm more concerned about lessening the casualties we expect to take.'

'I wouldn't worry, General. The supply situation at hand places us at a rising disadvantage. We've barely been able to feed our soldiers.'

Aetius responded. At first he was hesitant to answer. Four out of their seven titans were deployed elsewhere at this time, leaving two at their disposal here. The Armoured Titan should be arriving any moment now, but the Colossal Titan would take another two weeks. While he did genuinely believe that the army was indeed suffering from serious deficiencies in food supplies, he did not think it fit to use the titans anyway.

Calvi looked on, still unconvinced.

'If then, be that so, wouldn't it make more sense to deploy our titans than subject our troops to further attrition?'

Aurelius nodded along with Calvi, chiming in to say.

'And this strategy of yours puts all of us at risk anyway! What of reinforcements?'

Aetius scowled, but maintained a cool head, replying,

'That is why we'll be keeping the titans in reserve when they arrive, and I have trust in Prefect Magnus and the Cavalry to guard our flanks.'

Calvi and Aurelius were ready to issue further objections, but the motion of General Lauri raising his end stilled their tongues. The Commander of the whole operation would declare,

'Lord Tybur's move, I will concede, sounds reckless. But I have every faith in his generalship, so much so to give him the benefit of the doubt. I have seen his exploits firsthand on the field against the Mid-East rebellion. Tell me gentlemen, should the Confederacy see us simply deploy our titans on every front to battle them, what use is our own army? The army bred and raised from Marleyan crop? If we don't show the might of our people without the reliance on Eldian devilry, then what are we? Simple folk without a shred of honour or courage? This war is as much a political as it is a military situation. A showcase to all the world that not only are our titans invincible, but also our great army!'

The other members of the staff began deliberating in silent tones amongst themselves, Aetius and Lauri confident that they'd persuaded the others. Aurelius, however, haughtily scoffed and held his ground, saying,

'It may be a decent plan, but this absence of titans gives me the theory that you personally don't want titans anywhere on the battlefield Lord Tybur!.'

Aetius looked down on Aurelius in disgust.

'Pardon me?'

He asked, acting outwardly bemused at such an accusation.

'You refuse to use your own powers of devilry from us for your own delusions! Why should you want us to use other Titans if it would undermine your own treasonous omissions! If they fight, why shouldn't your Titan as well?'

Aurelius replied venomously. Magnus slammed his fist onto the table, almost breaking the wood.

'You dare question Lord Aetius' integrity? You fraudulent laggard!'

'Magnus! Stand down!'

Aetius yelled at his prefect. Trying to constrain Magnus was like constantly holding the chain leash of a rabid guard dog, his grip having to tighten even when the large soldier was defending him from those who may seek to undermine him, in fear of an even graver situation arising. Magnus reluctantly sat down at his Lord's command, replying,

'I apologise.'

Aurelius' brows raised, his smile growing as he awaited a response from Aetius, who would finally say, looking directly in the other lord's eyes,

'I have considered the use of Titans. Marley is a strong nation, the strongest in the world. General Lauri is correct; it would be a political victory to show the army itself can win without the need of titans…'

This shouldn't be difficult, he had prepared for this in advance, but Aurelius' rant was still rattling his mind. He was such a miserable man to dare say the Lord was withholding using titans for merely selfish reasons.

'…But it would also stand to reason, esteemed members of the general staff, that should Eldians take any further credit for our war, it would reflect badly on us as a people. And you, Aurelius, would not have that would you? The blood of Helos runs through your veins, does it not? Why should the creatures you defeated take credit for your glory? And why should I try to give my wretched Eldian blood any credence whatsoever, if I am to pay any dues to the actions of my imperial ancestors. Why should I ever? We are Marleyans, gentlemen, and that is what we should stay. What kind of problem would you, Aurelius, have with that?'

It was painful to ask this, and he couldn't truly figure out why. Aurelius, looking back at Aetius with wide eyes, finally broke the silence and huffed.

'You have a way with words, Tybur.'

Aetius' attention turning to Calvi, the General still appeared to be against the operation, but he was now alone. Aurelius gave a nod to Lauri, who rested his hands on his lap, signifying that a final decision seemed to have been reached.

'It's decided then. We shall make preparations immediately.'

The general affirmed, banging the desk with his palm in satisfaction. Aetius' plan, against all odds, was to go ahead. It would be a tremendous victory for Marley, at least that's what the Lord hoped. His eyes looked to the tent entrance when the drapes of polyester parted for the arrival of a soldier. His collar bore only one star, suggesting he was a lower officer. Immediately he'd exclaim to the staff.

'Forgive this intrusion sirs, but I have news! The Armoured Titan has arrived!'