Celeriter vineis ad oppidum actis, aggere iacto turribusque constitutis, magnitudine operum, quae neque viderant ante Galli neque audierant, et celeritate Romanorum permoti legatos ad Caesarem de deditione mittunt et petentibus Remis ut conservarentur impetrant.

When they saw the mantlets rushed up to the wall, earth shoveled into the moat, and siege towers erected, they were alarmed by the impressive size of this apparatus, which had never before been seen or heard of in Gaul, and by the speed with which the Romans worked.

"What did this?"

Marius Co Pictor halted his horse at the site of the crater. It was a magnificently large thing, dug into the ground as if a god had scooped out the earth with their hand. Around it, fresh dirt had been ejected into the sky and then rained down on what had been the mining camp. The crater was neatly in the center of where the entrance to the tunnels used to be. Several lines of collapsed earth showed the rest of the destroyed tunnels.

Weeks of work, gone in seconds. Worse, the barbarians had massacred Marius's mining slaves. There was a field of slave corpses twenty feet from the crater's edge. They'd been executed while still in their chains.

Those slaves had been sent all the way from the Romalia Mountains. To source replacements with the same experience would take a very long time and cost a lot of money. Money which the Imperial Senate had started getting stingy with. And if he used less experienced miners, he'd need four times as many slaves to get the same work done. That would strain Marius's supplies even further. And considering the already abysmal state of his supply lines…

Weeks wasted. Valuable slaves dead. And a few hundred legionaries killed to top it all off.

"What did this?!" he spat.

Marius's horse grew uneasy. The officers behind him looked at each other.

"Magic?" Prefect Herma suggested. He scratched at the partially healed wound on his face, acquired during the assault on Harfleur while dragging two wounded legionaries from the breach. A barbarian arrow had gone through his helmet's cheek plate, into his mouth, and nearly shattered his jaw. Despite which, he'd continued dragging the legionaries to safety, saving both men.

Pure heroism. Despite all Herma's failings, there was no world in which Marius could have relieved him after a showing like that. Especially when it'd been done in front of the whole army.

"Nah, that's crap," Falco said. "Ever seen a barbarian do magic, eh? They ain't got magic. Least not here they don't."

"But their gonnes," Prefect Herma protested.

Falco shrugged. "No magic. Just alchemy. Like those fire arrows they fucked your boys with earlier." He gave the crater one long look. "That was probably alchemy too. They know their stuff."

Lars Zeno shook his head regretfully. "With all respects, sir, it wasn't alchemy that did this. It was good planning and a distraction that we fell for. Their alchemy's good, but their tactics are better. These barbarians like to support bold action with deception."

"I find it hard to believe that savages like these could be this advanced," Prefect Herma scoffed.

"Why not?" Falco snorted. "They've got better armor. Better steel. Better alchemy. Why not better tactics?"

Lars Zeno was nodding. "The barbarians use mechanical contraptions to grind grain into flour. They're like watermills, but with big towers that harness the wind instead of a river. Brilliant technology. When my lads go foraging, they find one at almost every village. Even their peasants are more advanced than ours."

"And yet," Marius interrupted, "this world is destitute of manpower. Sadera is home to a million people. Telta houses six hundred thousand. Bellnahgo has five hundred thousand. Rondel has three hundred thousand." He looked at Lars Zeno. "Have your men found any settlements even close to those numbers?"

The cavalryman shook his head no. "The biggest settlement we've found is called Rouen. It has maybe fifty thousand people," he added.

Marius nodded. "Legate Caeso and the Prince are besieging the 'city' of Calais northeast of here. Caeso says there are only eight thousand people in it. And here at Harfleur, there cannot be more than six thousand people." He eyed his officers carefully. "My point is that, for all of their innovations, these barbarians are still nothing to the Empire. They have some technologies, yes, but they lack magic. Their tactics are good, but they have no monsters or demihumans. Their archers are excellent, but they have no discipline. The Empire is the most advanced state ever devised. We are the armored fist of the Empire, and it is our duty to demonstrate to these barbarians why the Imperial Army is the greatest fighting force to have ever existed. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" Prefect Herma and Lars Zeno both snapped.

Falco was quiet.

Marius sighed. He looked at the distant walls of Harfleur. "Then let's get back to work."

The next day, several thousand legionaries were handed axes and saws and sent to bring down what remained of the forest near Harfleur. Another thousand men were put to work weaving rope from hemp, linen, and horse hair. A further thousand started expanding the earthworks against the west wall, where Falco's engines had already breached the wall in five places, and where the barbarians had built a secondary wall behind the town's wall.

There was, Marius had decided, no point in trying to continue mining the walls. It was too difficult and complicated too many things.

The new plan was to tear down the west wall with Falco's engines. Then they'd move up the engines and tear down the secondary wall. And if the barbarians built more walls, they'd tear those down too. Again and again until they were deep enough into the town to conquer it.

It was simple and straightforward. Complicated plans were for amateurs and prodigies, and Marius was neither.

But, of course, a simple plan like Marius's required a lot of material for it to work. The experience of the last few months told Marius that they'd lose at least one engine every time they hurled rocks against the wall. To counteract that, Falco had trained legionaries to man the engines, enough to replace the ones that would inevitably be killed in the bombardment. His engineers and academy students, the actually educated men, were to be held in reserve to rebuild destroyed engines. That meant they needed copious amounts of wood, rope, and glue for their work. And that wasn't to mention the enormous quantity of chiseled stones they were quite literally going to throw away to sustain the bombardment. Nor did it include the thousands of arrows, bolts, and sling bullets Marius's skirmishers were going to use to harass the barbarian archers and keep them from filling Falco's engine crews with goose feather shafts when the engines were moved closer.

All of this material required men to acquire it and men to work it. Sieges ran on manpower. The more men, the more work got done.

But men had to eat, and men hard at work ate a great deal of food. Marius's supply lines were total crap. Rain had turned roads into mud-clogged rivers, and now that the first snow had fallen there were new challenges to face. Lars Zeno's cavalrymen had stripped the surrounding countryside of food, and Marius's army had consumed it all. He sent cavalry patrols further and further, but that was proving to have ever diminishing returns.

So food had to be shipped from the Empire. Through the Gate, which was only so wide, and over the inefficient, unpaved roads of this backwater country, using a growing number of men and draft animals which also had to eat.

Worse, the food was competing for space with other vital material needed for the siege, namely winter clothes. Temperatures were dropping, and this land of France had a cooler climate than the Empire. Marius's legionaries needed heavier cloaks, leg coverings, and good boots if they were to avoid frostbite. It was already bad enough, and winter had barely just arrived. If the men didn't get what they needed, they'd start freezing to death.

But, of course, they also needed food. So the winter clothing came slowly, in small batches, while men suffered and built bigger fires. That, naturally, meant using more wood to keep warm. Which meant cutting trees for firewood instead of timber. Which slowed progress.

It kept Marius up at night. The logistics of the siege were a challenge that he'd never had to face before. His experience was in pitched battles and open skirmishes. He'd stormed fortresses before, but he'd never had to lay a prolonged siege.

As if Marius didn't have enough problems, one night Falco came to him with a grim look on his face.

The man had been busy, yet his sardonic spirit had seemed infatigable. To see such a look on him meant bad news.

"There's a disease in the camp," Falco said, never one to beat around the bush.

"Yes, I'm aware," Marius agreed. He had reports from every prefect of how the men were constantly out of commission with the bloody flux. It had been going down ever since they'd redug the latrines and started carrying water from further away.

"Not the flux," Falco spat. He glared into Marius's eyes. "There's plague in the camp."

Marius felt a chill run down his back. "How many men?" he asked.

"A whole century is down with it," Falco said. He rubbed his knuckles. "But if an entire century has it then…" he trailed off.

Marius bit his lip. He inhaled deeply then asked, "Can we treat it?"

Falco gave a tired shrug. "I'm no doctor, but I've lived through a few plagues in Sadera and this isn't anything I've seen before. The sick have black tumors on their armpits and groin. Some vomit blood." He shook his head. "I kept my distance. This is a disease from this world, not ours."

Marius nodded slowly, racking his brain for solutions. "Build a new camp half a mile back from our lines. We'll isolate the sick there and have them treated by priestesses of Ral. Put anyone who's had contact with them there as well."

"Got it, boss." Falco breathed in then added, "We need more food. I saw it during the Plague of '74. Starving men die quickly. Men with lots of food survive, at least sometimes."

"Right," Marius sighed. "I'll try."

Falco left shortly after to oversee plans for the new camp. Marius stayed up the rest of the night, writing requisition orders, drafting directives, and sending messages to Legate Caeso at Calais.

The next day was a flurry of work.

Marius's messages went out, and all the healthy legionaries were on their feet working. Lars Zeno led the entire cavalry force on a big expedition to bring back more food for the sick; they were going to the city of Rouen to see what they could get from the outlying villages and farms.

Falco's engineers had the sick camp completed within a few hours of starting construction. It was near the river to allow for fresh water, and there was a big palisade wall with warning signs all over it to keep stray men away. The engineers fled from it shortly after completion. A contingent of priestesses of Ral, dressed in long robes and wearing thick veils, carried the men sick with plague to the new camp.

Only hours after moving the sick, Marius received reports that there were other outbreaks of plague across the camp. Worse, twenty men had died already.

It was, Marius realized, futile to expect an easy solution. Upon hearing of the new outbreaks, he went on his knees and prayed to the gods.

It had been a long time since Marius had prayed. Most soldiers believed in the gods to some degree; it was what allowed them to lessen their fears of death and face the horrors of war. Marius was a professional soldier, and he was no different. But to him, the gods had always been abstract. A higher force that, in his mind, didn't care about the prayers or opinions of an insignificant man like him. Marius had always faced war with a strong shield in one hand and a good sword in the other; the gods were secondary.

But with plague in his camp and his men dying, Marius prayed.

He prayed to Ral, goddess of learning, and to her brother Elange, god of knowledge.

To Hardy, goddess of the underworld, for the souls of the dead.

To Emroy, god of death and war, to save his men.

Then Marius stood and called for Gaius to draft out new orders. He ordered the sick to be moved to the new camp and the dead to be buried a good distance from the siege lines. He sent a message to all officers that they were responsible for the wellbeing of their men, and that if any man showed symptoms they were to be sent to the sick camp immediately, along with any men they'd had extended contact with. No exceptions.

A week went by.

The new plague had a horrifying mortality rate, worse than any disease in Falmart. Within four days, of the original eighty men who'd gone to the sick camp, only six still breathed. Some claimed that no one could survive it, and that it was only a matter of time until all those who were infected would die.

It also spread rapidly. From eighty infected men, there were soon enough over two thousand men sick with plague. Falco's engineers, after much persuasion, expanded the sick camp to be able to house the newly infected. There were not enough priestesses of Ral in the army to care for the sick, so they turned to the priests of Elange, usually relegated to treating minor wounds, for assistance.

As the week passed, the bodies piled up. By the week's end, the plague had claimed fifteen hundred lives. Priests and priestesses of Hardy and Emroy conducted funeral rites for the dead as corpses were dumped into mass graves.

The plague never let up. Three days later, Falco reported that half of his engineers had the plague. The next day, Falco himself went to the sick camp.

Two thousand infected rose to four thousand.

Soon enough, the priestesses of Ral started to get sick. Then the priests of Elange. Both had seemed immune to the bloody flux, but the plague didn't seem to care for their immunity.

Priests of Emroy and priestesses of Hardy began entering the sick camp to take care of the victims.

Lars Zeno brought back shipments of food from Rouen. The city was well garrisoned, but its garrison was afraid to challenge his cavalrymen in the open, so Lars's men had been able to ravage the peasants unopposed. He also brought news that a man called the Dauphin of France had just died in Rouen. From the bloody flux, if the rumors he'd picked up from the barbarian peasants were true.

It seemed that disease was everywhere.

Lars's food was given to the sick camps. Marius made sure that the cavalrymen didn't get anywhere near the plague victims. They were too valuable. He sent them out on another foraging mission almost immediately, never letting them into the camp.

As more time passed, things seemed to only get worse. More and more men got sick, many with plague but many others with the bloody flux as men refused to go near the river, which was near the sick camp, to collect water.

There was a general air of fear in the camp. Many men refused to be near their comrades, and others were quick to blame certain units or troops for the sickness. The skirmishers got a lot of blame, because they went beyond the siege lines constantly to harass barbarian archers. In turn, the skirmishers blamed the legionaries for failing to clear their trenches of corpses. The tension got so bad that Marius had to have a legionary hanged for attempting to murder a skirmisher.

Marius's solution to the fear was work. Men with free time had many opportunities to grow angry or afraid. Busy men didn't have the energy to think about such things.

So the siege continued. Men went out with axes and brought logs back to camp. A new quarry was dug to produce stones for the engines. Their store of rope rapidly grew.

None of it could be used, of course. Falco had the plague, and he was essential to the operation of the engines. His engineers, those who'd been deemed plague free, trained more legionaries to operate the engines, and they built the frames for replacement engines. But Marius didn't want to attempt using the engines without Falco there to supervise.

Men said no one could recover from the plague. But Marius was holding out hope.

After fifteen days of plague, the death count had risen to eight thousand. There were not enough priests or priestesses to dig the mass graves, so men drew lots to decide who would go to dig. The corpses were horrible to see. Infected men's fingers turned black then rotted away. They stank of decay and pus.

It snowed, and men shivered. Winter clothes came in, but Marius prioritized it for the sick camp. Big fires were made, and timber originally meant for the engines was used to keep men warm.

The barbarians, the gods curse them all, knew what was happening in the Saderan camps and avoided fighting. They stayed in Harfleur, unwilling to risk the plague. Marius watched them, from atop his horse, looking over the walls with bitter anger.

He rode around the walls with Gaius, surveying the barbarians to make sure they truly weren't preparing something. He had Gaius write out what he could see of their dispositions.

The boy slouched in his saddle a little as he did, but Marius dismissed it as exhaustion. They were all exhausted. The siege had taken its toll, and the plague had compounded it. Now it was winter, and they were still in the midst of the siege.

But then Gaius fell from his saddle. That put a chill of fear through Marius.

The boy started sobbing on the ground. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he cried through raspy breaths.

A priest of Hardy came to take Gaius to the sick camp. The boy never stopped sobbing.

Marius had a choice then. Gaius was his shieldbearer and, more than any other person in the whole army, Marius spent a lot of time with him. If Gaius had the plague then…

Well, Marius had ordered that any man who'd been in extended contact with a sick man should be sent to the sick camp. But if he didn't have the plague then going to the sick camp would certainly give it to him.

He was the army's legate. No one could order him into the camp.

And, truth be told, he was afraid. The plague wasn't an enemy he could fight. It killed everyone who it touched. Falmart had no disease of its like.

But there were many forms of courage, and Marius always led by example. He shouted an order to Prefect Getha, a stern and loyal man, placing him in temporary command of the army.

Then Marius collected some items and forced himself to walk into the sick camp.

The sick camp was a scene from Hardy's deepest level of hell. What struck him immediately was the smell. There was death, yes, but Marius had been around death before. Worse was all the human waste that accompanied plague. Very sick men could not rise to relieve themselves in latrines. The whole camp smelt of sweat, vomit, rot, and excrement.

The camp, even having been expanded, was too small for the amount of men it contained. They were packed together, some on straw mattresses but most on nothing but their soiled cloaks. Falco's engineers had built shelters, but those were too few. Makeshift tents had been erected, packed to the brim with dying men. People groaned and cried out. Some slept in the open air, freezing in the winter air and waiting for death.

Marius had thought he'd seen hell on the battlefield. But this was true hell. Perhaps it was worse.

He stepped in. By the gate were two women, priestesses of Ral, both wrapped in heavy robes and wearing their veils. One was dead, her mouth locked in a final exclamation of agony. The other had her blackened fingers intertwined with the corpse's, weeping.

The gate was shut behind him by men with long poles. They didn't want to get any nearer, and Marius couldn't find the heart to blame them.

A priestess of Hardy approached him. There was a long scarf wrapped around her mouth, and she wore several cloaks. She looked healthy enough at least.

"You have plague?" she demanded, her eyes tired.

"I-I…" Marius stumbled. "I'm not certain."

She looked at him up and down. Clearly she didn't know who he was; Marius hadn't brought with him any articles of rank. He was wearing plain clothes and his good heavy cloak.

"If you feel healthy then you can work. There is a lot to be done."

Marius nodded numbly.

For some period of time, he had no idea how long, Marius worked to ease the suffering of the many plague victims. He cleaned men on the edge of death. There were hundreds simply lying in puddles of their own dried waste. He did his best to wash them with wet rags while they wept or groaned or simply laid silently. One man grabbed his hand and looked at him with mad eyes.

"My son…" he groaned. He had swellings all across his body, and his mouth was black with decay. "My son… are you…"

"I'm here," Marius lied.

"Ah," the man said.

He smiled. His mad eyes met Marius's.

"So strong…" he whispered.

Then the man died.

At some point, Marius found Gaius. He was packed into a tent, and he would not open his eyes. His chest gently rose and fell, but there were swollen tumors under his armpits. Marius washed him gently and left him.

He fought back fear. He fought back tears.

But Marius had work to do. Work that could save him from his emotions.

When darkness came, Marius transitioned to feeding men. Cauldrons of soup had been cooked by someone, and Marius took a pot with him.

Some thanked him and had soup poured into their wooden bowls. But many were too sick to eat themselves. Marius fed them slowly. He dripped soup into their mouths while holding them upright. A few were so far gone that they vomited it up.

It was while doing this that he discovered Falco and his engineers. They'd built themselves a little shelter near the river gate. When Marius entered, he saw that many of Falco's engineers were now corpses. But Falco was there, almost naked in his cloak. His tumors had burst open and leaked a vile pus. He lay in a state of half-consciousness, muttering nonsense.

Marius fed him. He fed three other men as well, the only other survivors.

At some point in the night, Marius began to feel fatigued. There was no free space in the shelters or tents, so he went to Falco's engineers. With a final burst of energy, he dragged the corpses from their shelter. He left them outside, unable to move them any further. Then he collapsed in the shelter and let sleep take him.

In the morning, Marius had trouble breathing. His joints ached as if he'd been fighting. He felt fatigued, and his body refused to get up. When he checked his armpits, he found swollen tumors.

It was so cold. He shivered in his cloak.

He could do nothing except lay there.

Marius passed in and out of consciousness, unable to really differentiate the two. He dreamt, or perhaps he simply imagined, many things. Sometimes he found himself back in Sadera, listening to his noble father and mother weep as they sold off their estates. Others he was on campaign, fighting the countless barbarian enemies of the Empire.

Every so often, Marius returned to the real world. He felt his aching pain. He listened to his groans and the groaning of others. He saw the little shelter built by Falco's engineers.

Only the gods could know how long Marius was in that state. Between lucidity and delirium, incapable of really understanding what was happening around him.

Sometime later. Hours? Days? Weeks? Sometime later, Marius heard someone moving in the shelter.

"Oh fuck," the person rasped. "Boss, you there eh? Boss?"

Something tapped Marius's face. He groaned.

Then the world was gone again.

When he was next lucid, Marius felt liquid being dripped down his throat. It was a warm broth, and it felt heavenly. He tried to ask for more but all that came from him was a soft moan. The person feeding him gently set him down.

Out again. He dreamt of dead men.

However long later, he felt a little more like himself. He opened his eyes and saw the world again. It was so bright. The tumors on his armpits had burst.

"I'm not dead," he murmured.

"No, you're not," Falco rasped from across the shelter.

"Mhmm…" Marius sighed.

And then he was asleep once more.

A day passed; Marius was now lucid enough to know that. He woke gently and then looked around. Falco was up, feeding his three engineers, who now also seemed to be recovering.

"We survived the plague?" Marius asked. "How?"

Falco gave a shrug. "Just lucky, I guess. Luckier than the other poor fools. At least we had a good shelter."

"Didn't help your other engineers," Marius said.

Falco's face turned dark. "It didn't," he agreed.

The next day, Marius was strong enough to walk. He went around the camp and found that Gaius was dead. The boy's body was piled up with a dozen others. He was covered in vomit and excrement. His fingers were black, as were his nose and mouth.

Marius took the body in his arms. He walked with it to a priest of Elange. The priest was covered head to toe in heavy robes. His eyes were the only sign of his humanity.

"You have recovered?" the priest asked.

Marius nodded.

"Thank the gods for it. One in five survive this contagion. Can you work?"

Marius nodded again. He held up the body in his arms. "I want to bury him first."

"There are many who need to be buried. Come with me."

The priest led him out of the camp. They went to a field of freshly dug pits, mass graves, already prepared.

"The legionaries dig the graves, but they refuse to bury the bodies for fear of contracting the plague," the priest explained. He handed Marius a shovel. "Do as many as you can. One of my colleagues will come to sanctify them later."

Marius laid Gaius's body in a deep pit. He looked at the boy, his loyal shieldbearer, and considered saying something. But when he tried to speak, Marius couldn't find the words.

So he left Gaius and returned only to add more corpses to the pit.

Marius buried twenty men, including Gaius, despite his weakened state. It was easy when he didn't have to dig the hole. He dumped corpses, many rotting with vile dispositions, alongside Gaius and then covered them with dirt. Marius didn't know any of them except Gaius, but they had been his soldiers. Men under his command. Now dead.

He filled in the mass grave then dropped the shovel to return to Falco's engineers.

When he arrived at the little shelter, he found that there were tears streaking down his face.

Marius spent another five days in the sick camp. He spent that time working. Cleaning men. Burying bodies. Feeding those too sick to sit up. He met men, his men. Some he watched grow stronger with each day. Most he watched die.

At some point, Marius stopped crying for them.

On the fifth day after Gaius was buried, Falco approached Marius and said, "We're recovered. Time for us to go, boss."

To Marius, it felt like a betrayal. To leave the sick to their misery was horrible. He knew now that there were not enough priests to care for the sick in their final moments.

But Marius was also the legion legate, and he knew Falco was right.

Falco and his engineers gathered their things and burnt them. They burnt their clothes as well. The legionaries at the gate handed them some rags to wear as they left. Marius looked back at the sick camp as the gate closed behind them.

A lot had happened in the time Marius had been away.

Prefect Getha seemed surprised when Marius walked into the command tent, alive and healthy. Perhaps there was some lingering disappointment in Getha's eyes. Despite which, command was handed back to Marius without incident. His first order as the army's reinstated commander was for a hot bath to be drawn for him. He was filthy, and he needed to look like he was an Imperial legate, not a plague survivor.

As Marius bathed, an attendant gave him a summarized version of what he'd missed.

The barbarians had not stepped out from their walls. They seemed content to watch the plague ravage Marius's army. In fact, the barbarians were so content that they had openly celebrated a religious festival they called Cristemasse. Legionaries had watched barbarian archers laughing and dancing on Harfleur's walls.

The plague continued to spread, though it was no longer as rapid as before. Men had been steadily returning from the sick camp, though the mortality rate was still very high. The death count was estimated at ten thousand, more than a third of Marius's army.

The army's work parties had slowed dramatically. Too many men were dead or sick, and Prefect Getha had deemed it necessary to reduce the number of men working in order to ensure the siege lines were still fully manned. It didn't matter though, because the army's stockpile of material was massive.

The rest was mostly just the minutiae of running an army. Reports of the number of supply convoys arriving. A running tally of the number of able bodied men in the army. Concerns over a lack of winter clothing now that temperatures were lower than anything they'd prepared for.

One item of particular note was the arrival of two mages from Rondel, an answer to Marius's request for magical support. They were a magister and an apprentice. Of course, Marius had asked for three experienced mages, but one and a half would have to do.

Marius went to meet them as soon as he was dressed. He was told they'd established themselves near the siege engines so Marius, fully refreshed from the godly feeling of being clean for the first time in days, walked in that direction.

He found the mages easily. They had a certain quintessential look about them that made them stand out easily in a camp full of soldiers.

The magister was a middle aged woman with a massive pointed hat and dark blue robes. Her staff was an arm's length taller than her, covered in magical runes, and an amulet of jade hung from her neck. She wore rings on every single finger, each with some kind of gem embedded into silver or gold. Even just looking at her, she radiated mystical authority.

The apprentice, by contrast, could have easily passed for someone's servant. She was a young woman, and she had none of the trappings of a mage the magister had. Her clothes were those of a commoner. Her staff looked more like a walking stick, and she wore a simple hood instead of a majestic hat.

Marius found the two as they were in the midst of a lesson. A small crowd of soldiers had gathered to watch them. The apprentice was holding her staff like a spear while the magister smacked her hands with a willow branch.

"Higher! No, no! Lower!" She slapped the apprentice's fingers with the branch. "Do you want to immolate yourself, foolish girl? I said chest height!"

Marius cleared his throat.

The apprentice looked over, and the magister immediately slapped her again. "Focus! This is a dangerous spell, and I will not have my apprentice die because of her inability to pay attention."

The apprentice looked back to her staff immediately. "Yes, mistress," she muttered.

The magister nodded. "Now, deep breath, and cast."

A cloud of fire suddenly erupted from the apprentice's staff. It shot a bow shot's length into the air and then dissipated.

The crowd of soldiers all said, "Oooh," together.

"Good," the magister said with a sharp nod. "Now practice it until your reserves are used up."

Marius cleared his throat again and stepped forward. "Magister," he addressed.

The woman's eyes flicked over him quickly. "Who are you?" she demanded. Then her eyes went over him a second time and she straightened herself. "Legate Marius Co Pictor, I presume?"

Marius nodded. "You have me at a disadvantage, I find."

She rolled her eyes. "In more ways than one, you'll find," she murmured. "I am Magister Vitruvia La Vara of Rondel, and that sprig over there is my apprentice Attia."

"A pleasure to have you under my command," Marius said.

Vitruvia sniffed, "Your command is it? Very well, I take it you've been sick all this time?"

Marius hesitated, the sick camp flashing through his mind, and then said, "I had the plague. I was actually hoping to consult you about this."

"Yes, yes." Vitruvia waved her hand dismissively. "You know that your camp is infested with rats? Disgusting little beasts. I imagine they're eating your food stores."

Marius nodded. "That is unfortunately the nature of a military encampment."

Vitruvia scoffed, "Not for much longer. I've had Attia set traps for them infused with a bit of the arcane. A nasty little spell that makes them go rabid and eat each other. They'll be gone in a few days, and then I'll be able to sleep without having to listen to them scurry about."

"That is…" Marius paused for a moment. "That is very useful, Magister. Thank you."

Vitruvia seemed to light up a little. "Yes, naturally. And about your plague, fortunately I was an editor for one of my colleagues' medical research back at the academy. From what I've examined the plague spreads via miasma. The bad air. Have your soldiers burn incense with sage and rosemary at their fires. That should purify the air."

"I'll write the order immediately," Marius promised. "Now about your role here. I know you're not officially part of the Imperial Army, but your magical support will be crucial here. I'd like you to be present at my command meetings."

"And here I thought you'd be a sword swinging boor," Vitruvia said, smiling. "I'd be glad to."

And like that, Marius had magic on his side.

The presence of two mages in Marius's army changed things dramatically.

Almost immediately, new cases of the plague began to drop off. Following Vitruvia's advice, Marius gave orders ordering men to burn pleasant smelling herbs at their fires. It only took a few days for the remedy to have an effect. Less men went to the sick camp each day. His soldiers began to breathe more easily.

Simultaneously, Vitruvia and Attia had killed all the rats in the camp. Their traps were somewhat horrific, turning rats into cannibals that tore at each other's throats. But it was effective, and soon enough there were no more rats. The quartermasters noted a marked difference in daily food consumption.

Vitruvia's expertise extended well beyond magical ability. Apparently, magic could be made more powerful through knowledge of the natural world. As such, Vitruvia knew a whole lot about the natural world.

For instance, Vitruvia knew a way to clean water using a contraption made with clay, charcoal, and sand. A man could pour water in from the top, and the water would fall through the contraption and emerge clear from the bottom. Then he only needed to boil it, and the water was safe to drink.

There was no magic involved. It was created purely through an understanding of the natural world. But it worked, and after showing the soldiers how to make them, cases of the bloody flux decreased substantially.

Another example was Vitruvia's extensive knowledge of alchemy. It was, as far as Marius understood, vital to understand in order to cast powerful fire spells. A mage who had studied naphtha was far more potent than one who had only studied wood or coal. Hence, Vitruvia, who had minored in offensive magical use, had dedicated a great deal of time to studying the various properties of alchemical compounds. It became vital when trying to understand the barbarians' alchemy.

"Saltpeter and sulfur," she determined when examining the blast residue of what had once been Marius's mining operation. "Though combined with something else… pitch perhaps? Maybe sawdust. And I cannot determine the proper ratios to make it. I would very much like to examine this compound if possible."

Marius nodded. "If we capture any, you'll be the first to know."

Of course, Vitruvia and Attia's magical abilities were also very useful.

Vitruvia knew a spell, which she quickly taught Attia, that temporarily created a magical lens which magnified a point in the distance, allowing it to be examined as if it was up close. Vitruvia had dismissed it as a minor utility, but Marius saw the military use immediately. Thus, every morning, Attia had orders to create a lens for Marius's scouts to examine the enemy's dispositions in detail.

It was boring work that drained Attia of her magical reserves each morning and required her to wake up very early. But that was the life of an apprentice.

The two mages had other useful spells as well. They could create dense fog from nothing or conjure a strong wind in any direction. Both knew how to make bright light in darkness. Vitruvia could freeze large quantities of water.

Of course, magic also had its limits. When Marius asked if, as powerful mages, they could blow a hole in Harfleur's walls, Vitruvia sneered at him.

"You're a strong man. Can you lift a mountain?" she spat.

And that was the end of that conversation.

So with that in mind, Marius went to Falco the next day and told him it was time to get back to work. The engineer gave a grin, showing the gap in his teeth.

Ten days after Marius emerged from the sick camp, Falco's siege engines were once more rolled forward from the Saderan siege lines into prepared earthworks just in range of Harfleur's west wall. Two cohorts were on standby, just in case the barbarians made a sortie against the engines.

Falco had enlisted Attia, somewhat unwillingly, to stand by the engines and create a magical lens for him to aim through. He did some calculations in the morning light and adjusted the tension on his engines ever so gently. Then he sent Attia back to the siege lines; she was too valuable to risk.

All at once, Falco's seventeen catapults launched their heavy stones at the wall. Ten scored hits, demonstrating vastly improved accuracy from before.

As expected, the barbarian gonnes immediately returned fire. Three catapults were smashed in the first barrage, and fifteen men were killed. Falco and his engineers fell back to the siege lines and were replaced by trained legionaries. Falco was also too valuable to risk.

They exchanged barrages for the rest of the day, and the Saderans clearly got the worst of it. Barbarian fire smashed thirteen catapults in all. Falco's trained legionaries only scored a few dozen hits. They weren't trained in mathematics like Falco's engineers were, and it showed. But with almost half of the engineers dead from plague, Marius couldn't afford to risk them like he'd done before.

Besides, the engineers were needed elsewhere. They were rebuilding the smashed engines.

By the next morning, Falco was up to eleven catapults again, and he had an idea. He moved up the ballistae and sent for Attia again. She made her magical lens, and Falco's trained legionaries used it to aim for the barbarian gonnes.

Of six ballistae, a single one struck its mark. The massive bolt soared into the battlements like an eagle in flight. It smashed into the iron tube and dented its side before snapping itself and splintering into a hundred pieces. Two of the barbarians had their faces flayed. They went down, screams audible even from the distant siege lines.

Saderan legionaries cheered.

Then they screamed. The barbarians quickly returned fire on the ballistae. Attia had to flee, and the ballistae were smashed to pieces. Sixteen men died.

But they'd hit one of the gonnes and that made it all worthwhile. Falco's catapults opened up on the wall and found that the return fire wasn't as intense as the day before.

They launched stones all day and lost only five catapults. In the morning, they were back up to twelve.

The west wall had already been breached in five places, and of course the barbarians had built a smaller wall behind it, but Falco had a system to his bombardment. The first days of bombardment would target only the outer wall to clear a space. Then he'd move onto the inner wall.

So by the end of the second day, the outer wall had six breaches in it. By the afternoon of the third, the breaches had widened into one large breach. By the night of the fourth, the majority of a section of the wall had been smashed to rubble. By the end of the sixth, there was nothing but rubble and pulverized stone for a long stretch.

Vitruvia watched the proceedings with an academic fascination. She stood at the siege lines all day, watching the big stones smash against Harfleur's wall.

At one point, she approached Falco while he was directing the rebuilding of a smashed catapult. He was crouched over, fiddling with reattaching the gears of the winch while two other men sawed timber to make a new catapult arm.

Vitruvia stood over him, casting a shadow onto Falco, and asked, "Why do you only operate the engines during the day?"

To which Falco replied, "Get the fuck out of my light."

She didn't. "You could double the time you have to shoot if you used the engines at night," Vitruvia insisted.

"Did you hear me? I told you to fuck off."

"I was giving you a suggestion."

Falco dropped his tools as he stood. He whirled around and snapped, "Oh, and what do you know about sieges, eh? They teach you how to operate siege engines at your fancy magic academy?"

"I learned how to innovate at my fancy magic academy," Vitruvia retorted. "Did they forget that lesson when you were learning from alley cats and rodents?"

"I've been doing this twenty-five years," Falco sneered.

Vitruvia gave a sharp laugh. "If you spend twenty-five years throwing paint at a wall, does that make you an artist?"

Falco narrowed his eyes. "We don't use the engines at night because there's no fucking light. Can't hit anything if you can't see."

"There's moonlight," Vitruvia replied.

"Not always. And moonlight's not good enough to correct our shots."

"Then shoot on nights when there is moonlight, and light the stones you use so you can make corrections."

"Light them with what? Are you going to stay up to cast a spell on every rock we fling?"

Vitruvia paused and placed a hand on her chin.

Falco, evidently thinking the conversation was over, turned to return to his work.

"Cover them with pitch," Vitruvia suggested. "Then you could ignite the stones before throwing them."

With a sigh, Falco turned back to the mage. "Where do you suppose we get all this pitch?"

Vitruvia shrugged. "Ship it from Italica. Or make it if that's too arduous. The process isn't that hard to do."

"The supply line's fucked, and our manpower's fucked too. Plague killed too many men, now we can't send work parties while still maintaining the siege lines," Falco informed her.

"Ah," Vitruvia said. "Fair point."

And then she walked away.

Marius, who'd been quietly watching the encounter from a good distance away, could only laugh at Falco's dumbfounded expression.

Regardless, on the seventh day Falco moved his engines up. He stopped them just within range of the inner wall, the one that had been constructed by the barbarians as a trap. A trap that Marius had fallen for.

It only took two days to crush the inner wall. The barbarians had to reposition their gonnes, no longer able to rely on the outer wall's towering height. At ground level, the gonnes were still effective, but they weren't quite as terrifying. Falco's engines threw a great deal of stones, and the inner wall cracked under pressure.

Falco, a satisfied grin on his face, went to Marius and said, "That's my job done. Now time for yours."

Marius was in agreement, so he called Prefect Herma to his tent and told him to assault the city. A month ago, Marius would've led the assault himself, but his experience with the plague had started to put things into perspective. Not everything had to be led by him.

So Prefect Herma assembled five thousand legionaries, all they could spare given casualties from the plague and the need to maintain the siege line, and led them forward. Behind them, Vitruvia and Attia pooled their energy to create a strong wind blowing toward Harfleur.

Barbarian archers emerged from the rubble and loosed arrows at the legionaries. But Herma's men advanced with a wall of overlapping shields, and the barbarian arrows were slowed by the magical wind. Only a few men were hit.

The legionaries pressed forward, and the archers withdrew. Herma led them through the rubble of two walls. When the legionaries entered the town, barbarian archers loosed into their sides from roofs and windows. The wind couldn't save them from that. Men died.

And then, when Herma pushed deeper into the town, he discovered that the barbarians had created a third wall, beyond the range of Falco's engines. Even Herma wasn't foolish enough to try it.

With unflinching discipline, Herma led the legionaries out of the town with minimal losses.

The next day, Falco pushed forward with his engines until they could hit the new wall.

But, of course, the barbarians were almost certainly already building the next wall behind that one.

So as Falco's engines began to restart their work in the dying hours of the tenth day of bombardment, Marius watched from the siege line with Falco and Vitruvia.

"They're determined bastards," Falco said. "I'm guessing we'll have to do this a few more times."

"Mhmm," Marius agreed. "We're going to run out of timber and rope again."

"Yep," Falco said with a nod. "And we're starting to lose boys to frostbite."

Marius sighed. "I'll write to the Senate requesting more men. Maybe if they send us enough, we'll be able to build a good stone road from here to the Gate. That'd solve a host of issues."

"Right, boss," Falco said.

They watched as one of Falco's engines scored a direct hit on the barbarian wall. A distant round of cheers rang out.

"I think I am beginning to find war enjoyable," Vitruvia said suddenly. She made a curious expression. "In spite of it being so gruesome and horrible, of course. There's something… stimulating about it."

"Like a puzzle with a thousand solutions?" Falco suggested.

The two of them met each other's eyes. Falco gave a grin, showing the gap in his front teeth. Vitruvia matched his grin, eyes shining under her massive hat.

"Exactly," she said.

Well. Marius knew when he was intruding.

He left to find Prefect Herma. And behind him, the siege continued. On and on.

It wouldn't be the Middle Ages without the plague. As an aside, this is one of the gripes I have with the original anime and to a certain extent many fanfictions. Disease never seems to play any role in those stories despite the fact that historical examples of first contact were almost always dominated by disease. The Native Americans were ravaged by European diseases because their immune systems had never encountered them. Why don't the Saderans, who have no resistance to Earth diseases, also get ravaged by disease? Why aren't there any Falmartian diseases that ravage Earth? Now granted, it probably wouldn't be as extreme as the case of European contact with Native Americans. The Saderans are heavily involved in animal husbandry and the raising of livestock improves resistance to disease (one of the reasons why Native American diseases never ravaged Europe, except maybe syphilis), but still I find it to be a lost opportunity.

Maybe I'm just the only one interested in things like that. Oh well.

Thank you for reading, as always. Again, please do review if you're able. It's a great help and motivation.