Kanuro5: Had a massive writer's block with this chapter, but I wanted to refocus on the Arcani and the Mercenaries. Enjoy!
XXIV
The Shrinking Shadow
~Umbra~
The army that had once been a hibernating bear in the mountains of Greece had now turned into a lumbering slug, drunk off its own success. They were moving north throughout the countryside encumbered with spoils from Apollonia. No longer did they pretend to hide their movements, the world had known of what they had done, and for this, their debauchery and ravaging nature exploded.
Umbra the Shadow bore witness to all of this. Every passing day seemed to be worse than the last.
The army of around 20,000 mercenaries were in the throngs of rapture of capturing a Roman city. They marched as conquerors, chanted bawdily, and drank ravenously.
They were once thought to be ill-disciplined because of low morale and cooped up in the mountains, but it was now evident that they were ill-disciplined with even the highest of spirits.
At last guess, the army of raiders absconded with over eighty Apollonian citizens, the majority of them women. They were bounded in chains and rope as they were forced to march with the army. The number of captives shrunk by the day: by escape, by murder, or by the captives' own hand if they found a method. After a week, the number was down to the forties.
The shrieks of blossoming girls and respectable matrons carried across the night only to be replaced by merriment from the mercenaries in the morning. The only remnant of the camp was trampled grass, spent wineskins, and a handful of corpses of the Apollonians with eyes sunk in their skulls forever trapping their horror in those expressions.
For Umbra, being inside that camp was more suffocating than being cast in the ocean during a tempest. If he saw his superior, Taurus, Umbra would have cursed him out in rage for ordering him to be in this hell on earth.
The only sanctuary he found was in his own tent, though he could not escape the noise around him, tranquility graced him if he couldn't see a single mercenary. He was currently maskless inside his tent, sitting on the cot with the dim light of the day breaking through the crease of his tent's opening.
His eyes were lost in the visage of his own black mask that was in his hands, staring back at him in what seemed like cruel agony.
Was this what the Gods had in mind for me?
That question grew louder within his skull with each passing day.
Before he was birthed as Umbra, he was known as Quintus Fonteius, son of Gaius Fonteius, a ropemaker. He was the eldest, he had a brother two years his junior. He was born in the small settlement of Arpinum, sixty miles southeast of Rome, the hometown of the most famous Roman of the century, the one and only Gaius Marius.
Quintus Fonteius was as average of a man of his plebeian station could have been. His home was of moderate comfort, the walls were thin, and it smelled of mildew during the rain and of hay during the winter, yet it kept them warm and content. His father was a good craftsman of his trade, and they had at least one slave in the house, a middle-aged Greek woman with a limp.
He was a lost man in his twenties, the darkness of his soul had swallowed the paths of life before him. He was once a soldier that stood in the legions, and now he was a soldier that stood for the Gods. He had not seen his family in fifteen years. Would they have recognized him if they saw him? Would they even care to embrace him if they knew what he did?
They had to embrace him, for his pursuit was noble.
An apparitional face of Vibia Brutus materialized within the mask. He recalled how her blood exited her lips as he plunged his dagger into her heart.
My actions were noble…
He shouldn't have told her his name. He figured that it was such a common praenomen that she wouldn't have known, but why did he feel compelled to tell her his family's name?
Her smile was wonderful.
My actions were noble… the greatest commitments require the greatest sacrifices.
He was gritting his teeth. He couldn't begin to fathom why this one woman was bothering him so much. She was of the Brutii, a family of decadence who used their positions of the apex aristocracy to attain accolades and wealth, while denigrating the gods.
Then why did Deimos perish? That intrusive thought followed the thought of Umbra.
That man was a fine Greek, he treated us virtuously more than half the Romans I have ever met…
He and his wife were slain during the sacking. Such a result lay at the feet of Heracleo and his captains… or so Umbra kept telling himself.
Umbra sighed; he had to inform the noseless tyrant of the latest news he heard not too long ago from one of his men.
He slipped his mask above his face and the world seemed to make more sense. He stood and exited his haven of a tent and entered to the foulness of Man.
Ten steps away from his tent was a mercenary sleeping off his drunken revelry from last night, he was nude from the waist down. He heard the clangs of steel not too far away. He could see two Romans were being forced to duel one another within a makeshift ring. An overweight man who looked to be in his forties was dueling against a lanky one-eyed boy who looked to be of fifteen years.
They were surrounded by twenty to thirty men, taking wages on who would survive. Within the ring were three mercenaries, two armed with spears who would prod the dueling Romans in their rears if they backed away too far from one another. The third mercenary was the officiant, cursing vilely in Greek at the Romans to go on and carve each other up.
Umbra walked away from this depraved sight, that was the fourth fighting pit he saw since the sack. He always kept to himself as he moved through the camp, but this time, he had his eyes half-closed during his trek, he had no desire to sully his sight further by looking at this repugnant storm of degeneracy.
He came upon Heracleo's tent with two guards stationed outside. Umbra could hear sounds of feminine grunting and shouts, followed by rowdy masculine cheers.
He was here to warn the careless man of what was to come. But within his soul, he had another reason to enter that tent. A reason that he was even ashamed to have spent as much time dwelling upon.
Amelius Brutus, the tangible apparition of his mother, Vibia.
The boy was kept within the tent of Heracleo at all times. Something inside of Umbra demanded knowledge of the boy's wellbeing.
"Wh-What do you desire?" one of the guards stammered upon spotting Umbra approach. The guards never got used to seeing him. Umbra was pleased with that.
The masked assassin decided not to speak, silence worked well with the fearful.
"W-W-We should allow him entry, perhaps he seeks word with Heracleo," the second guard muttered softly.
Both men stepped aside. Umbra walked in without so much as twisting his head to either guard.
Heracleo and the four captains of the mercenary bands: Deon of the Black Dogs, Glaukos of The Band of Red, Ilus of the Cyclopes, and Theopompos of the Prometheus' Pawns, were cheering louder than they were at an arena.
The spectacle? Two Roman girls who looked to have just broke the age of fourteen were standing in the tent in front of them—one blonde and the other auburn-haired.
Both were bloodied, bruised, and half-naked, facing each other in hand-to-hand combat.
Both of these young girls had eyes that screamed with derangement.
The captains whistled and belched drunkenly.
Both of the girls clinched with one another, both yanking the other's once beautiful long hair that was now a mop-mess of mud and blood. They fell to the ground and started wildly flailing their fists into the other's face.
"Knock a tooth out, you blonde bitch!" Glaukos roared with hoarse laughter.
"Come on! Come on! Guard your face, damn it!" Theopompos raged at the auburn girl.
"Give her a weapon!" Ilus demanded.
"You give her a weapon, Ilus, and I'll cut your balls off!" Deon slurred.
Heracleo himself made no comments, he just laughed and pointed before returning to the embrace of the wine around him, resting on a bronze chair elevated above the others.
Umbra noticed small movements by the corner of the tent. The masked assassin turned his head to discover the eight-year-old, Amelius Brutus, a collar of rawhide around his young throat, the boy was leashed to a stake in the ground.
The last words from the boy's mother have been a loop of torment. The loss of life fading in her eyes made his flesh cold.
A sudden scream grabbed his attention back to the fight.
The blonde girl used her nails and clawed at the face of the other girl. The auburn girl released her grip on the blonde girl's hair, covering her bleeding face. The blonde, still seizing the red hair of the other girl, got on top of her and began pummeling her with one hand.
Pieces of curls were being flung from the scalp.
She hammered her fist into the auburn girl's face, blood was pasting what must have been once-delicate hands. The blows rained down; the sound of bones crunching rose up. The auburn girl's movements ceased; a pitched wheeze emanated from that girl's broken nose.
Ilus and Glaukos cheered, Deon and Theopompos cursed. Heracleo laughed, standing up to drape a free-flowing cloth around the shoulders of the blonde victor.
Deon stood up and approached the immobile girl. He kicked her in the side. A harsh squeal that belonged more to a wounded animal exited the girl's lips.
"Fucking useless," Deon sneered, before spitting on her.
Ilus had the blonde victor sit on his lap, and he gave her a skin of wine. She drank it without a word, her eyes refusing to meet her captors. Ilus shoved his tongue in her mouth, then Glaukos seized the girl and pulled her away, then he forced his tongue down her throat. The blonde girl neither resisted, nor did she reciprocate at either moment.
Heracleo tied a silver choker around her petite throat that had the stenciling of a Greek number on it. "You won, you leave," Heracleo told the blonde girl in broken Latin as he tore a piece of cooked chicken with his yellow teeth in front of her.
The girl limped out of the tent with the wineskin. She did not notice Umbra as she passed by him.
Umbra looked at the boy who was still in the corner. Amelius Brutus sat there with his arms wrapped around his knees. Even in that dim tent, Umbra could spot tears streaming down the silent boy's face.
Heracleo finally noticed the man in black, "Did you enjoy the contest?" he asked him in Greek.
No reply was given.
Heracleo tracked the hidden eyes of the assassin, "Pay no mind to the boy. He stopped his wailing a few days ago. He still eats."
Umbra's stare did not break.
Heracleo tossed the cooked leg of the chicken at the boy, "They treat us Greeks as animals."
The boy flinched from the chicken. He brought his knees closer to his body and buried his face away from the men.
"Does the boy meet your fancy?" Heracleo smirked.
"What of raising him to be a fighter?" Umbra finally responded.
"Huh?"
"You said you would raise him to be a fighter, back in that city. You said that."
"Indeed, I did. The way he wailed for days; I believed it was the governor's granddaughter instead of his grandson."
The mercenary tilted his head back and roared with laughter. Umbra noticed the boy had seized the chicken on the ground and began to nibble it gently.
Once he ceased his laughter, Heracleo continued, "Once he is properly composed, I shall forge him into a warrior of legend."
"How long shall he be in chains?"
"Until he is fully pacified. Such a time shall depend on him."
The boy slowly tore the pieces of the chicken away with his small fingers.
Heracleo grunted as he stood up, "But I figure that the boy is not what you have sought me out for."
"It is not, but…" he hesitated, "what was that about just moments before?"
"The girls? Champion vs. Champion. The blonde was the champion for Ilus and Glaukos, while the flame-haired girl was the champion for Deon and Theopompos. Whichever girl won; their champions would fuck the loser. The men wanted blades, but I enjoy hearing the sound of flesh meeting bone, so I desired the use of fists. And so, unless you want to break words among Ilus and Glaukos 'celebrating,' follow me out of the tent."
Glaukos held the delirious auburn girl by the hands, she was mumbling incoherently through bloody lips. Ilus stood over her as he downed a considerable amount of wine.
Both Umbra and Heracleo left the confines of the tent. As the flap of the tent moved to closing, Umbra looked over his shoulder, witnessing the boy trembling with his face buried in his small knees. The flap closed; Umbra swung his head back around.
The specter of the boy's mother enveloped his mind. Her last words echoed throughout his ears.
After all he has done in his life, why did that one moment haunt him the most?
"What is it that you desire?" Heracleo spoke, stretching his arms in the sun as they walked.
The sudden words startled Umbra out of his daze. The assassin's mask hid his surprise.
"What?"
"You desired to speak to me?"
"Yes… how much longer to our destination?"
"At current speed, five days."
"Then we need to move with haste, for this current speed is unacceptable."
"Ha!" Heracleo belched out with laughter, "You should be our taskmaster. 'Unacceptable,' that is perfect."
"I am serious."
"Are you not always?"
"We have lingered at a trot instead of a march, and now such leisureliness has surfaced a consequence."
"To what do you mean?" the noseless man asked.
"I had my men scout along the rear of the army. We are being pursued."
Heracleo stopped, "By whom?"
"It appears to be a single legion."
The mercenary guffawed. Umbra was resolute.
Heracleo's laughter began to ebb away, "A legion?! What is that, 5,000 to 6,000 men? What Brutii fool leads that force?"
"The banners were crimson, the Julii, specifically of the Twenty-Eighth Legion."
"The Twenty-Eighth, I have heard of that number…"
"Their most famous general was Lucius Julius Magnus."
"But he's dead."
"Indeed, the command now falls to his son, Vitus Julius Germanicus."
"Must be half as capable as his father if he pursues a larger army."
"Perhaps, but no less tenacious."
"What do you mean?"
"He followed us."
"What?"
"I was not finished in my assessment of the pursuers. My men spotted cavalry in green armor, wielding the banner of the centaur. Brutus Equestris of Athens. And that same crimson banner of the Twenty-Eighth also landed in Athens when Biga and I were stationed there… both of these men left Athens and pursued us here. Such tenacity."
"What of it? They heard the news of Apollonia, that must be it."
"Perhaps, and yet they still chose to pursue us."
The images of his brothers in Athens flashed in his mind. Did those men of the Order survive? What has become of them? Did they try to stop these Romans from their investigation? What of Aries? What of Taurus? What was going on now?
Heracleo looked over his shoulder, "Fools. Young fools by the way you describe them."
"Fools with an army."
"And we should meet them in the field and crush them. We should…"
Heracleo's smile faded, he was silent for a moment. His head jerked from side to side in contemplation.
"No," Heracleo said surely. "We have little time. If anything, how many more Roman armies shall descend on us? If we pause and destroy this army, we may be encircled by more Roman armies on the horizon."
"I agree with your notion." Umbra grunted.
That is probably one of the few things I'd ever agree with you on, Umbra thought.
The assassin continued, "However, consider this, if we continue our advance north into Italia and we meet a sizeable Roman host at our front, then we will have to contend with the 'foolish' Twenty-Eighth Legion at our rear."
"Is that why this Germanicus is advancing? Is he aware that another army shall meet us, and he seeks to cut us off?"
"Who can say. But I know for certain that now is not the time to dawdle, these past few days on this sort of… victory lap from Apollonia has been nothing but a hindrance to our progress."
"Yes, you may be right on that."
A staccato of trumpets suddenly blared in the distance, followed by a cadence of drums.
The mercenaries in the camp shot up in alarm and dropped whatever they were doing. Umbra, too, was startled, "The Romans?!"
Heracleo held out his hand, staring in the air, "No! I know that rhythm… ah, Merius is here."
"Merius?"
"Yes. The other piece to our puzzle, the one who we must rely on, it seems that the army of ten thousand have finally arrived. Come, Umbra, let us meet them."
Umbra made a subtle scoff, "It took them long enough."
The constant sounds of cheers that rang repetitively over the days had silenced into dead murmurs upon the approach of Kleos. The crowd of reveling mercenaries parted as both Heracleo and Umbra made their way to the incoming army.
Kleos, the ten thousand strong warband, was here.
Thessalian hoplites who fought in the style of their ancestors that once struck fear in the known world, Illyrian peltasts who could heave javelins sizeable distances, Bastarnae warriors who were armed with the curved rhomphaia blade, the lightly armored Cilician pirates who were hardy and lawless folk, and what seemed to be the most "prestigious" of the units, the heavy cavalry of Sarmatian Lancers of the Steppe, hundreds of them wreathed in chainmail tunic armor.
They all wore armor that resembled an Athenian design, but the color was predominantly green with black and bronze trim outlying the metal. They were marching forth with discipline that Umbra noticed the rest of the armies had lacked, their discipline looked to resemble that of Rome.
Leading the Sarmatian Lancers was the Captain of Kleos, Merius the Bronze.
Merius was a man with a dark brown beard that draped down to his throat. His hair was parted at the side and fell behind his ears. A dark scowl sprang from his sunburnt face; a scowl that was washing over all the men that he saw with callousness. His green uniform had elements of bronze fashioned into the armor, he was carrying a bright bronze Corinthian helmet by his side as he rode on his stallion with a metallic expression that matched his epithet.
From the presence of this man, Umbra had known his type for years. Another migraine had arrived in this camp, this one in the form of bitter malice, hubris, and entitlement, horrid combinations to be in a man of authority. This Merius was a Heracleo who was nursed by prerogatives.
Heracleo nudged Umbra with a light elbow and a smirking wink that bordered on childishness, "Wonderful. Now, we number 30,000 men."
Heracleo moved up and planted himself in front of Merius's direct path. The large brown stallion stopped, Merius stared down at Heracleo.
The grand captain of the mercenary army extended his arms out and brokered a grin of radiance, "Merius, a pleasure to see you."
Merius narrowed his eyes, "Spare me the pleasantries, Heracleo."
The grin of Heracleo did not break, "So it is like that?"
"That it is."
Two men approached Merius's stallion and grabbed the reins without the prompting of Merius.
"If grievances must be aired, then air them in private, Merius. Follow me, I shall assemble the rest of the captains."
Heracleo turned his back on him, Merius growled audibly. He dismounted from his steed and followed the noseless man. Umbra followed him close behind. Merius was a tall man, well over six feet.
Merius looked over his shoulder and stopped, "So, this is the Black Mask, huh?"
"He is," Heracleo said, stopping as well to observe the spectacle.
Merius approached Umbra, his nose was angled higher than the sun.
"What say you, Black Mask?"
Silence was the reply.
Merius scoffed, "You placed faith in such statues?"
"I would not belittle such men. That shall be my only warning to you."
Merius continued to stare into the eyes of Umbra's mask. The surrounding men were gossiping incessantly.
"Merius, he shall not love you back if you continue your staring, come now."
Heracleo continued his walk. Merius said nothing, his eyes were trying to peer into the eye slits of Umbra's mask. A bestial growl exited his closed lips. In a slow manner, Merius turned around and followed Heracleo. Umbra followed close behind.
Earlier, Umbra thought that if he ever saw Taurus again, he would curse him. But now, Umbra was beyond certain that if he saw Taurus, he would absolutely strike him across the face.
Umbra, Heracleo and Merius entered Heracleo's personal tent to be greeted by the other mercenary leaders. The inert Roman teenager was gone, but her blood still stained the ground. The young Brutus boy was still tied in the corner and wrapped in a ball, silently crying. The sneer of Merius loomed large over the men he now observed.
"You could not have arrived later, Merius?" Ilus of the Cyclopes snapped bitterly.
Heracleo was chuckling, "Do not mind those two, Merius, their celebrations were interrupted."
"Where is that auburn whore?" Deon of the Black Dogs asked with a yawn.
Ilus pointed his finger at Theopompos of the Prometheus' Pawns, "He dragged her out back and tied her to a stake."
"She's not getting away, once we are done here, Ilus and I are taking her back to my tent."
Merius raised his hand and stood in between the five other leaders, "Enough. I rather break words with the matter at hand."
"That being?" Glaukos of The Band of Red asked.
Merius looked around the room as if waiting for an answer. When he received none, he raised his voice, "Must I stand with a hand up my ass?"
"What are you speaking about?"
"Are none of you aware? What is wrong with you all?!"
"What has gotten your balls in a vise?" Deon observed confusingly.
"What of our treasure?!" Merius demanded.
"What of it?" Heracleo laughed.
Merius approached him, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade, "Laugh at me once more…"
"I say again, 'what of it'? What treasure is yours?"
"Do I have to say it? The spoils of Apollonia! Where are the spoils that were promised to my warrior band, Kleos?"
"Those that claim treasure, should have been with the treasure," Ilus of the Cyclopes emphasized.
"I am not speaking to you, Ilus! Heracleo, where are the spoils?!"
"The Macedonian has the right of it," Heracleo shrugged, after pointing to Ilus. "You weren't present at Apollonia, we were."
Merius index finger jabbed into his own chest-plate, "We were promised bounty of a Roman city, we were all to be as one."
"Was your entire army afflicted with gout?" Deon sneered.
"How many men are under your command, Deon? 5,000? Half that?"
"Deon is correct, Merius," Heracleo shrugged. "Your army was late, ours grew impatient. So, we struck."
"Obviously, now where is my loot?"
The other captains were scoffing in disbelief. Heracleo faced Umbra, giving the masked man an expression as if he consumed an entire lemon, "Fucking wall, this one," he remarked, pointing at Merius.
Umbra did not respond.
"Hey!" Merius snapped. "Where's my fucking loot?!"
"There is none left, you dithering fool!" Glaukos of The Band of Red chastised. "Perhaps if you chose not to embody the tortoise, you would have been here sooner!"
"You expect me to take my ten thousand men and hide in mountains as bandits?! What stratagem is that?! Along with your twenty thousand men, attrition would have gone through us like shit through a goose!"
Theopompos looked at him sideways, "You chose not to endure in our hardships. We suffered, but we were rewarded for such tribulations. Where are your balls?"
"A statement you shall hear frequently after I am done with you!" Merius snarled, drawing a blade out halfway as he prepared to charge.
The three other captains clamored and held back the excited Merius. Theopompos spurred on Merius with taunts and jeers, whilst Heracleo roared and cursed.
Umbra stood there as the phantom he was meant to be. These six captains were going to be the God's retribution…?
Order was eventually restored within the tent. Umbra caught that Heracleo had turned his head towards the assassin's direction.
"I have news. I was told this, moments before Merius and his Kleos band arrived. A Roman legion has landed at Apollonia, and they are marching this way north."
The announcements shook the captains, "How many days away?"
"We estimate about five days."
"How many legions?"
Heracleo looked once more at Umbra before speaking, "Just the one."
The captains began to lightly chuckle amongst themselves, even Merius's edge was beginning to soften upon the revelation.
"One legion?" Merius said with the shake of his head, "How many men is that? 5,000? 6,000?"
"Just about," Heracleo nodded.
"Do they seek battle?"
"Possibly."
"Then they seek their deaths," Deon laughed.
A wicked grin emerged from Heracleo, "Absolutely." He opened up his wineskin and consumed a large quantity.
He finished with an exhale, before picking his ear with a finger, "Alas, we are under contract to reach Italia without delay. So, we cannot simply turn around and fight this errant legion."
Ilus stroke his stubbled chin, "So what do you propose, Heracleo?"
The grand leader pointed at the newcomer, "Merius, while our armies march north, your army shall march south, intercept this legion of the Julii and destroy them."
"What?! My army?! What glory is there in that?! I demand a settlement!"
"You and your men dallied while we were in Apollonia. Your chance for a settlement has passed."
"We were preoccupied, and you deny our arrangement?!"
"I deny nothing that wasn't already finished. I have nothing to provide. The spoils have been claimed."
"You bypassed the city of Dyrrachium. For what purpose do you not sack that port city? For what purpose can Kleos not sack that city?!"
"Time is not on our side, you simple goat!"
And yet this rabble of an army has dawdled to a crawl, Umbra thought, glaring behind his mask.
Merius was seething at this moment. "You call yourself a captain? Are you Time's mistress, Heracleo?"
Umbra noticed a twitching of Heracleo's eye.
The noseless leader stood. The four other mercenary leaders surrounded Merius, their eyes locked on him with frost-like venom.
"We are all Time's playthings, Merius," Deon of the Black Dogs growled curtly.
"You lead an army and yet you failed to realize such," Glaukos of The Band of Red followed up.
"Our prize is Rome; do you believe those corpulent scum shall take a pause for us?" Ilus of the Cyclopes demanded in a harsh voice.
"We need to enter Italia before Rome sends their deluge of legions," Theopompos of the Prometheus' Pawns hissed.
Heracleo was the last to speak, "You desire glory? Here is your moment. A legion, around five thousand men. Destroy them, loot them, then you can pillage the Roman territories with impunity. Or you can destroy them, loot them, and then join us as we pillage actual Roman lands, that have been untouched for centuries."
Merius was silent, yet his glare was loud. He eyed the five leaders surrounding him.
"I only desire what was promised to me and my men," he sneered through his teeth.
"And you shall have it, Merius. But you missed your shot for initial spoils… so for your retribution, take the fight to this lone legion at our heels. Do so and be rewarded."
Merius stroked his beard and growled to himself. He resembled more of a pacing predator than that of a man to Umbra.
"Who commands the legion?" Merius asked the group.
"From what we gathered; it is a legion of the Julii, the Twenty-Eighth," Heracleo told them.
"That legion's number is familiar…" Ilus mumbled.
Merius sneeringly scoffed, "What importance lies with that's legion's number? It is just thousands of impotent Romans."
"You state such Romans as impotent but does the name of Lucius Julius Magnus strike memory," Heracleo replied.
The captains of the mercenaries began stirring at the mention of the name. Merius was the one who spoke first, "Julius Magnus is dead."
"He is, but it is his progeny that leads the Twenty-Eighth."
"What matter is that?"
"An answer to your previous question on the leader of this force at our heels."
"And you believe that the son is as ferocious as the father? What son have you known that has eclipsed his father in battle?"
"Alexander eclipsed Phillip, as did Hannibal Barca with his father," Ilus of the Cyclopes shrugged smugly.
Merius growled before speaking, "And this boy is in the same league as those two titans?"
"He does not have to be. He may even be a pale imitation of his father, but he is still in pursuit of us," Deon reminded Merius.
"Indeed. It is for that purpose that you are to wipe out his legion," Heracleo said.
"When I return, I shall bring this Roman legatus's head in a salted box. That should show my 'devotion' to this cause."
"Then be off, and hope that your sword proves your words true," Heracleo replied.
Merius spun off his gilded boots and left the tent, mumbling curses under his breath. Theopompos hawked some spit on Merius's trail.
"I shall strangle that man with my own hands."
"Better you than our armies, with his size alone, he could destroy our forces individually," Ilus shook his head.
"And for that, he expects us to kneel and embrace his ass? To the jackals with him!" Deon slurred.
Heracleo drank from his wineskin, "Merius shall be humbled enough, one day. But for now… the rest of you, leave Umbra and me alone."
The four captains took their exit.
Umbra approached with soft steps, "You trust Merius to keep his word?"
"I would not trust that bastard with a broom to sweep the shit of pack animals. And yet, the size of Kleos cannot be ignored. Ten thousand men, Umbra."
"He repeatedly spoke about Dyrrachium, Heracleo."
"You think he moves to besiege it? Let him. He has no siege weapons, and it will keep that legion at bay. He may even crush them first before he takes Dyrrachium."
"You would allow him to deviate from the plan? You allow him to besiege Dyrrachium?"
"If it keeps him content, then yes."
"Heracleo…"
"That howling dog has the biggest army here, his size cannot be ignored. Placation is a necessity. Your leader, Tauros, has instructed me to keep the army moving, we must reach northern Italia as soon as possible. If this one legion is mobilized, there is no telling how soon other Romans shall be on the march."
"Even more reason for ten thousand men to reunite with our advance."
"Perhaps this Twenty-Eighth legion is a vanguard for an even more sizeable force from the south. Merius and his Kleos band function as a rearguard."
Umbra crossed his arms, "You view the most sizeable portion as expendable?"
"If they are led by entitled curs, then yes."
Umbra's silence doubled as a reply.
"You do not need to agree with my methods, I am just following your leader's orders. We need to continue our advance, at all costs, correct?"
"Correct…"
Heracleo responded with a gleaming smile, "And there we have it."
It took him ten minutes to exit the thundering insanity of the camp of mad men and barbarians. For the quickest of moments, Umbra considered this recurring migraine an act of retribution from the Gods from a past error. Every time he moved through the camp, he wanted to rip out chunks of his hair.
But here on the outskirts, away from the debauchery and disappointment, he found relief. He could breathe and feel free once more. He enjoyed ten minutes of tranquility outside the camp, just simply waiting for his men to arrive.
All five of them: Biga the Chariot, Vulpes the Fox, Mare the Sea, Pugio the Dagger, and Orbus the Orphan, arrived on horseback and sat with him. Here, with his brothers of the Order, Umbra could freely speak in their native language of Latin.
"Biga, I have not seen you all day," Umbra commented on his large comrade.
"I was ranging around the right flank of this army to see if we were being pursued."
Umbra chuckled, "Good initiative, and yet I suspect such was also an excuse to leave this army and it's debauchery."
"You know me well, Umbra."
"You are the fortunate one, not entitled to be Heracleo's handler."
Mare, one of Umbra's direct subordinates, asked, "Is it that bad within the camp?"
Orbus sneered, "I could hear the revelry from a quarter of the mile, I saw a few corpses from the Apollonians."
Mare tilted his head, "Umbra, is it such a blight being with them?"
Umbra's voice slowed, his irritation leaked out, "It is as if you are trapped in a bottle with five sets of warring bees…"
His four subordinates hissed in sympathy.
Biga was growling, "Those mercenaries are depraved. I believe they are more savage than barbarians."
"Then, such is good, right?"
The rest of them stared at Orbus. This man gave them a shrug before continuing his explanation.
"I mean, Taurus desired them to be savages, for the retribution of the Gods upon the Republic. If these men are not wicked, then how would the populace not see the errors of the ways?"
Vulpes nodded in agreement, "Well… actually, Orbus is correct, right? This is for the glory of the Gods."
Umbra's head looked to the dirt, his mask thankfully covering his expression, "Yes, it is for the Gods."
Orbus was raising his voice, "Those men and women who allowed the Dictator to rule over them cannot be called true Romans. What is more shameful than that?"
Dozens of answers popped into Umbra's mind, yet he was absent the courage to speak them.
"Well, back to the matter at hand," Pugio said to the group.
That snapped Umbra out of it, "Right, Vulpes you spotted the issue. You may have the honors."
"What issues?" Biga asked.
Vulpes cleared his throat, "A Roman legion landed at Apollonia and are in pursuit of us."
"A single legion?" Biga inquired.
"Yes."
"They're marching against an army of 30,000? Which fool leads that force?"
"The Twenty-Eighth Legion," Vulpes answered, "Along with cavalry from the Brutii, they had the banner of the Green Centaur."
Biga raised his head towards Umbra. "No…" the large assassin said in disbelief.
"Yes, the same ones that entered Athens mere weeks ago," Umbra replied solemnly.
"He pursues us, along with Equestris in tow?"
"Yes."
"So, Aries? And what of young Velum? What happened to those two? They were supposed to keep the Romans in Athens!"
"I thought of them myself… they must have failed."
"Do… do you believe they live?" Mare asked his senior.
"I do not know, but honestly, I believe they have fallen. Aries, fanatical as he is, was loyal. He would have perished before failing Taurus. If both Germanicus and Equestris are present… we just do not know for certain."
Vulpes sighed hard, "That being said, what should we do with the task at hand? There is a legion pursuing this army."
Pugio slammed his fist into the dirt, "Heracleo should just wheel around and destroy them."
Mare shook his head, "He shall not. Time is not on our side. If we are to reach Rome we need to hurry."
Umbra spoke up, "Exactly. The mere fact that a single legion is in pursuit must mean that the rest of the Republic is sending their forces as well. The further north we go, the more resistance we shall meet. Doesn't matter how small the force is to our rear; it will not do us well if we are caught between two armies."
"So, who shall take care of this errant legion?" Biga asked him.
"The mercenaries of Kleos. They depart to the south within two hours."
"But didn't they just arrive?" Mare queried.
"Yes, and now they are the rearguard. As sparse as this legion is, they prove a problem, as does their commander. Merius is unpredictable, we need eyes on him. We need eyes on them all."
"You desire one of us to accompany the Kleos band?" Pugio asked.
"Allow me, Umbra," Orbus pointed at himself. "Mercury shall grant me swiftness and Jupiter Optimus Maximus shall grant me fortune!"
"Please, choose me, Umbra," Vulpes said with a raised finger. "I shall not fail this mission; I know what is at stake."
Umbra stared at his men before him, he eyes flickering to each eager young assassin.
"Vulpes, Mare, Pugio, Orbus, you are all to go with the Kleos band and their leader, Merius. Assist him. Ensure that the Julius who commands the legion is put to grass. You are to also serve as courier upon the outcome of the battle."
"You, desire all four of us?" Mare asked.
"Yes. There are two targets and an obstinate mercenary leader with miles between us. One or two men shall not be enough. The more of you, the better the chances of success."
If Taurus had sent three men instead of one to kill Sulla, like Vipera suggested, none of us would even be in this situation…!
Vulpes the Fox spoke up, "You distrust Merius that much?"
"I met the man; I met his character. Upon victory, I fear that Merius shall languish near Dyrrachium in an attempt to sack the port city. If he remains stagnant, then Heracleo should be made aware of such."
Mare the Sea shook his head, "If he is as obstinate as you claim, then I do not believe that we can convince him to rejoin the main army."
"Then we are to coerce him through any means necessary," Pugio chuckled with a crack of the knuckles.
"If he is adamant, then do not waste your time. If the thought of Rome does not stir him to action, then doubts arise that our words shall."
Orbus the Orphan leaned in closer, "Shall the Gods miss him?"
The rest of them looked at Umbra.
He shook his head, "Of course the Gods shall not miss him. But keep him alive. He breeds chaos which shall distract the Brutii."
"Understood."
"You four, this is my mission to you all. I shall speak to Heracleo about your accompaniment of Merius. Observe that he crushes this wayward legion. If feasible, kill the Julius and Brutus in command. Upon victory, if Merius does not return and seeks to plunder the land, ride back to our rallying point so we can proceed with the next phase. Is that understood?"
All of the assassins rose to their feet.
The four stood to attention "Yes, Umbra."
Umbra was smiling behind his mask, "I am proud of you all. May Mercury grant you clairvoyance on your travels and may the Jupiter Optimus Maximus protect you."
Biga gave them a salute, "May the Gods watch over you."
The four men saluted back, "By Jupiter Optimus Maximus, we shall not fail."
Umbra pointed to the direction of the camp, "Good. Then retrieve your horses, head towards the camp, and await for instructions."
The four younger assassins took their leave of the two senior members.
"Umbra?"
"Yes, Biga?"
"We are on this course to save the Republic, correct?"
Umbra's head tilted for a moment.
"Yes, of course, we are."
"Do you believe that this is the way?"
"What do you mean by 'this'?"
"These mercenaries… Heracleo, Deon, and this Merius, and the others… Do you recall how their men desecrated Apollo's statue?"
"Yes…"
"Vulpes, Mare, Pugio, and Orbus, they did not speak to you on this affair, but they came to me in confidence."
"For what purpose could they not approach me?"
"Respect, I guess. They did not want to seem defiant, ungrateful, or weak in your eyes."
"Are you telling me that they are questioning our mission?"
"No, not our mission, but our… our… accomplices."
Umbra faced him fully, "Biga… These mercenaries. Back in Apollonia, you seemed resolved in the fact that these men were just 'tools.' I recall you saying they were 'a means to our ends in saving the Republic,' what changed, Biga?"
Umbra wasn't even aware that he raised his voice at the last part. The veteran assassin could see through his partner's mask, the wells of shame that were rising.
The bigger man's hands went to his own mask, and he removed it delicately, "Your words, Umbra. Your words, and their debauchery. I have been ruminating on your words for the past few days. I… sought to defend the actions of these men because it was Taurus's plan and the retribution of the Gods… But how these… men… abducted the Apollonians… and abused them on the way. I thought their hostility would have ceased as their aggression was meted out on Apollonia alone, yet they took it on their travels, they have lost purpose except in their own pleasures. And we entrust these people to act out the will of the Gods?"
Umbra's eyes fell to the dirt.
"I shall never lose faith in the Gods, Umbra. For all they've done to my mother, for me… there were moments where I should have died, I should have never seen the light of day, but I did. Events happened where I couldn't explain, my Gods did that for me. I met friends; I met brothers. The Gods did that for me."
"Would you question Taurus if you saw him?"
"I firmly believe that we are on the path that we cannot change. We are Phaethon, driving Apollo's wayward chariot."
You did not answer my question. Umbra placed his hands on his waist.
"Yes, that may be our destiny…"
"To be struck down by the Gods?"
Biga stared at him.
"What?" his inflection was sharp.
Biga broke the stare, blinking twice, as if thinking of what to say next.
"Biga…"
Biga growled softly with a shake of his head, "By the Sun, where is Vipera? Where is he on this mission of ours?"
"He should still be in the West."
"If he yet lives."
"And even if he doesn't, Vipera would still push for us to finish our mission, on our honor."
Biga placed his hands on his waist, "This plan of ours… to overthrow Sulla… is now forming into the Gordian knot."
Umbra could not even deny Biga of that.
Biga continued, "Taurus is trying to unravel it with brute strength, but what would Vipera do? Slice it like Alexander?"
"If he could, then what would such look like?"
"Going to Rome and personally taking Sulla's head. But here, invading with an army of mercenaries and allying with the Pontians…"
Biga stopped speaking. Umbra took a crouch in the dirt; his migraine was now returning.
Both men were silent for a few minutes until Umbra finally spoke, removing his own mask.
"This has to work, Biga. We have sowed too much chaos and debased ourselves for us to forfeit. By the Gods, many of our brothers now sail across the Styx for this cause! I may have sent my last four students to their deaths! I cannot imagine this was all for nothing! I won't!"
Biga had recoiled. Even Umbra was surprised at his sudden energy.
He rubbed his face from forehead to mouth.
That is why I continue. All the death… my brothers… Deimos… her…
Those phantom emerald eyes of her flashed like lightning in his mind. As did the crying form of her child who was still within his grasps.
He stood back up to his feet, he donned his mask once more, "I shall see this to the end, whatever it takes. Biga… I know you."
Biga's voice sounded like gravel, "Yes…"
"You still believe."
"Yes."
"I need you, Biga, more than ever."
"Yes."
Biga, too, donned his mask. He faced his smaller comrade and extended his forearm out. Umbra took his own forearm, and both brothers of the Order bumped another in solidarity. Both men moved back to the camp, Umbra rested his hand on Biga's shoulder as they walked.
The chambers of Umbra's mind, the echoing of the crying Amelius Brutus reverberated loudly.
The battle against the legion draws closer...
If you have stuck through reading, even with the frequent hiatus breaks, I am truly grateful.
Thank you for reading.
-Kanuro5