Bloodless?

A bloodless surrender?

A rare thing. Rarer still to be offered by the mere sight of their sails on the horizon without the scatter of defenses on the city walls.

Instead… Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Still, a war-weary General took it as a welcome surprise, ignoring the strange way the surrender had been delivered.

Must be a custom. He thought dismissively, accepting the scroll presented by the soldier closest to where it had clattered onto the deck; dropped by something unseen overhead.

"Might it be a trap?" Came a murmur at his shoulder, reading the same words Acacius scanned hopefully but with built-in skepticism.

"I cannot see how." He answered, heightening his eyes to the rapidly advancing city walls; still no movement. Just gulls, waves, and clouds to provide any movement against the stillness of the semi-urban landscape. "I see no battlements. No guard towers. Sentries. Nothing."

"A defenseless city? Inviting conquer?" His officer surmised with something akin to scorn; Acacius chose to ignore it, too embroiled with digging into any part of his vast experience that might even come close to this. He had taken surrenders before, of course, but not without a fight. Even the most primitive settlements had at least picked up a spear. Even if the city had been abandoned upon news of their imminent arrival, from whom and where did the scroll come? "No wonder they opted straight for surrender. Perhaps it is but a city of women hoping to avoid a sacking."

"Women have fought and died alongside men in battle." The General pressed with authority to immediately snip any over-zealousness or overconfidence in the bud; things a good leader knew to be liabilities. "We should still take caution. I'm to go ashore and take ten of my best with me. The rest are to remain here until I-"

"You jest, surely?"

General Marcus Acacius fixed his subordinate (still a highly trained, battle-hardened warrior) with a gaze darkened by impatience. He let the silence fester a moment, tension holding his stance.

Many commands, battles, incursions, invasions, victories, and the taking of territories for the glory of Rome had ensured loyalty from his garrisons. They followed him willingly and eagerly into threat and more with no guarantee of survival, but they did it anyway; they did it for him. Their strong, fearless leader. The devotion of his men aside, he could still keep those in check who did not toe his line.

"If I can have a clean surrender-"Acacius began with a measured hiss, mindful of the other men around them but unwilling to let the minor slight slide."Then in the name and glory of Rome, I will have it. It means we all sail back to our families. It means taking no prisoners with whom we will have to share provisions on the journey home. It means another territory for the Emperors to toast to. So, no. I do not jest."

The Great Marcus Acacius did as the mystery sender bid.

Bundled into a smaller vessel with ten of his best and most trusted, chestnut curls caressed his forehead in the salty breeze; the multiplying grey peppered through them was not afforded to most who chose to keep a sword in their hand. In this way, Acacius welcomed them as a gift from the Gods.

With that, they began to row.

The calls of gulls and sea birds seemed to be endless white noise, a relentless backdrop broken only by the sounds of the lapping waves, unheeded by the visitors.

Perhaps that's why it took so long to notice. The complacency of normalcy of marine wildlife masking something far less normal; distance also playing its part but not for long.

When the stoic, disciplined hush of the Roman vessels suddenly erupted into calls of fright and alarm, Acacius clambered for a view of his fleet in the near distance but confusedly registered no surprise attack, no ambush, no hail of arrows or fire from elsewhere.

By the Gods, what…?

His remaining men were not scurrying to arm themselves nor were they panicking to defend themselves from an unseen siege.

The remaining Roman horde hung in rows over each side of every ship entranced by something in the opposite direction from where their General and his chosen few had sailed at something that had appeared way off in the mist; slicing through it like a hot knife through butter at speed.

Not one.

Not two.

Three large, amorphous shadows became apparent on the horizon; gliding and dancing mid-air, as graceful as their mammoth forms would allow. The calls of seabirds began to sound less so. More like the garbled mixture of local wildlife and whatever these were.

General Marcus Acacius could look nowhere else, breath caught in his lungs.

Stuck like a fig's remnants behind his tooth, his brain refused to cast his gaze elsewhere, nor had it registered that they had stopped moving; the rowing abandoned to gawk with the others despite being further away.

"General…"Came the nervous bleat of one of his guardsmen."General, what are those…?"

Wings had become apparent during the swift approach; one gargantuan beat carrying these mighty things several dozens of feet, low enough to crash violent ripples through the water, frothy waves even.

Birds….His strategic mind immediately assumed though not quite believing it. Rome had never commanded Her army to venture this far, never sent them to territory so deep. Surely they were wildlife they had simply never encountered before? They must be birds. They have to be birds. There is nothing they could be but birds.

He had seen whales, heard them, of course, and while the loudening calls of these nearing anomalies compared somewhat, they diverged in their shrillness, depth and length.

But suddenly, just like that, as quickly as they appeared, the monstrous, winged, long-necked aberrations vanished.

They dove for the clouds in unison and bar the foam and crashing of disturbed water in their tail's(?) wake, it was as if they merely an illusion, never there in the first place. A madman's vision.

Panting through disbelief (and he was not alone), Acacius' mind began to clear through its frantic fog and the art of war ebbed back in.

For a moment, the lack of defenses made even less sense. If these things roamed the horizon, such scant fortification were downright reckless; detrimental even.

Unless…

In countless military campaigns, the most brutal and savage of conflicts and longest of sieges, Acacius had never felt bile rise in his throat. Certainly never from a mere realization.

This place isn't defenceless. The comprehension burst through his psyche like a migraine, weakening him for an instant as the magnitude settled. We just saw it's defenses.

He also knew a warning when he saw one.

Those things had appeared from the direction they had sailed from, but remained illusive until they were ready to be seen. They moved fast, faster than any of his ships, possibly larger any of his ships if he were a betting man. Then… They simply shot skyward and were seen no more among the clouds. If that didn't chill his blood as an opposing warrior, nothing would.

"ROW!"The barked command rattled his soldiers back into action for if it seemed, even for one second, that the General did not have the situation in hand, the very foundation of his carefully sculpted unit would crumble."TO SHORE! LEST THEY RETURN!"

When the boat finally scraped the shore without another sighting, a weight lifted from the Commander's chest; undeservedly so perhaps, if their first impressions were anything to go by, what else could he expect? The element of surprise is never a good weapon for an enemy to wield and now… General Marcus Acacius led his ten best men into the jaws of the unknown with his fleet back at the city walls at the mercy of unknown beasts.

Surveying the beach, the path to the city made itself apparent and so, with a brief gesture, his men fell into step behind him. They would not, however, remain alone for long.

Trudging from sand to pebbles, to a dusty road, the hardy Roman footwear held true on all terrain with the sun beating down on their brows; not unlike home but frighteningly different and the men carried that with every alert step. That is, of course, until their leader halted and each man dutifully followed.

"You found us without difficulty then?"A voice called with neither fear nor wariness for someone with (conquering) strangers in their midst. Acacius blinked ahead, the sun against him, to see more forms encroaching; human this time."We were not sure if you would heed the message! But here you are! You and ten! Who knew Romans could be trusted!"

"I am General Marcus Aca-!"The General began to commandingly reply with his strongest conviction, puffing his chest and lifting his chin for effect but whoever this was, was not interested.

"Yes, yes."They retorted disparagingly with an accent that suggested they and Acacius did not share a mother tongue but more than proficient in their shared one."We saw your sails a few hours ago and knew it would not be long. Come."

Acacius did not move, despite their "hosts" turning heel to lead them. Not dumbfounded for the first time that day, this foreign land continued to force questions upon him. Who were these people who did not fear them?! The greatest empire in the world?! Just off their shore and addressing a decorated General like little more than a lost traveler?!

"I am Gener-!"

"I heard you the first time, Roman." An older man, the only one of the group to speak, to whom the voice belonged, turned and fixed Acacius with whitening eyes. "General this, General that, we do not care. You are Roman. That is all we need to know. Now, come."

"What were those?!"He could not help himself, throwing a finger callously towards the horizon; all military decorum forgotten."Those beasts, what were they?!"

A look of borderline derision passed between the welcoming committee; as if the most obvious question known to man had just been asked.

"Most likely the Triplets." The answer came, not unlike as if answering a child. "They are fond of that stretch of water. But, like the rest, they come when called."

"The rest?!"Acacius demanded, refusing to move when the group attempted to shepherd them towards the city; to complete their task of bringing the Romans to their destination."What are they?! There are more?!

"Come, Roman." Either resignation or sympathy (possibly both) rang in the old man's tone; clearly wishing to complete the assignment. "There will be answers. And food. And drink. If you desire."

"And your surrender?!"

"What did I just say? Come, and surrender will be discussed."

What else could he do? The old man was one thing but the rest with him were younger, stronger, fitter, and, most worryingly, armed. If pressed, they could have taken them but had the promise of a clean surrender to taper off a bloody campaign not been tempting enough to bring him to the shore in the first place? And rattled by those things that still prowled somewhere in that stretch of water, it seemed the best thing to do now was go and take the terms.

The luxury of a Roman palace, or even his own villa, could not be understated. However, when politicians and one Emperor after another did their utmost to outdo each other, the opulence could often reach garish levels.

Yet, where they were escorted had its own exotic splendour that did not go unnoticed.

Red stone took the place of marble and while tiles were the norm at home, this place opted for polished tablet instead where footsteps echoed through cavernous ceilings. Acacius took it all in; the art, the decor, the furnishings. Not too dissimilar to any upscale Roman residence at all. In the midst of his passing survey, early on in fact, he noticed something. Something that he continued to notice as they marched.

Depictions of those beasts at the shore. Paintings. Tapestries. Pottery. Sculptures.

Winged. Long-necked. Long-tailed. Some spiked down the ridge of their spine, some smooth. Scale had also become apparent in the context of different pieces and it seemed, he may not have lost his own bet after all in comparing them to the size of his vessels.

Another note: There were no depictions of anyone slaying these beasts, these monsters.

Any portrayal of war or conflict featuring them, they hovered protectively above, charging the opposite side or spewing something he could not comprehend.

What, by all the Gods, was going on? Where had that twin set of lunatics that called themselves Emperors sent them? Did they know something they neglected to mention that made this place so valuable?

"Wait here." The old man instructed, snapping him from his stupor only to realize they had stopped in what he could only assume was a throne room? Perhaps not a throne room, but something akin to it; enough for an elevated chair of grandeur to be its focus where the old man took his place beside. "She will be here soon."

"She?"Acacius repeated suspiciously, eyeing the room for potential escapes before returning his gaze to the old man now above him. "Who is she?"

"Why all the questions, Roman? I told you, you will have answers when she comes. Right now, she is busy."

At the end of the last campaign that led to this one, Acacius had found himself beginning to embrace relief. One more and I can go home. One more and I can rest. Retire, maybe, if they'll let me. Despite the exhaustion and spent with bloodshed, a certain indignance roused in his breast when he, an agent of Rome Herself, was expected to wait.

"No one keeps a Roman General waiting." Came the curt retort, too much pride in his achievements and whom he served to allow such dismissal.

The old man seemed not to share in his sentiment, his disinterest and almost derision palpable from his heightened position; literally looking down on the honored sentry.

"She will treat you the same as a beggar on the street, Roman. Not only that, if you want your ships to stay safe in the bay, you will wait."

Now he's threatening me?

"And who are you?!"Acacius barked, losing his nerve as the dream of home began to slip away."You have the authority to make threats, how do I know it's not you I wish to speak to?!"

"I advised Lady Alerna's mother before her and now I advise her." The elder sighed, bored with the proceedings already. "She is more impetuous, so I would advise you to be patient. I saw you walking through the halls. You are frightened and you should be."

"Your message stated you wanted to discuss your surrender."General Acacius asserted bluntly, stance lofty with tone to match; hands folded before him but never far from his sword."What have I to fear from someone who has already stated they want a bloodless surrender?"

"Who said it was our surrender?" A breezy riposte caught him from behind, almost off guard. Acacius' eyes followed the hem of a dark grey gown, barefoot up the steps to settle beside the old man who remained standing, shifting his pose in readiness.

Thirties, maybe? Eyes of grey to match the near-weightless dress fixed him like a predator; watching every move, scrutinizing every flicker in his face. Leaning forward, in her chair, was she searching for emotion? Fear? Intimidation? Something to exploit? A curtain of ebony caressed her shoulder, pulled over to one side almost to her midriff while eye-catching emeralds glistened in her ears. This was the one the old man referred to as Lady Alerna? Hypnotic.

"I asked you a question, Roman. Or do you not share our tongue? Does he? I thought I heard-?" While the last part had come with a slight turn of her head to her companion, Acacius found himself.

"I am General Marcus Acacius of the Roman Legion."He announced proudly, noticing the disdainful exchange of eyes from the two above."I have come to accept your surrender to Rome as a Roman territory under the Emperors Geta and-!"

"We know who you are and we seem to have returned to this surrender business." Alerna's menacingly bright chime did not meet his bluster as it should have. "We sent terms for your surrender, not the other way around." Legs crossed, back straightened and the hinted impetuousness on full display, she did not shy from the legend that was Marcus Acacius.

"Our terms are that you leave empty-handed. Turn your ships around. Leave. And we will allow you to do so unharmed. They're generous terms, I would accept them if I were you."

"Allow me to do so?" Acacius repeated, allowing himself a sardonic laugh upon reading the room. "And what will prevent me from doing otherwise?"

"He has already encountered the Triplets, My Lady." The old man commented, watching with satisfaction as Acacius' face dropped in dreading reminder. "And Nara…"

"Is on her way down from the mountains, if she's not here already." Alerna continued, catching onto the touched nerve and fixated on it as her advisor had; toying with him like a cat with a dying mouse. "Sinta will be here shortly. And Gellan… He's on his way from the East, although his hearing is not what it was. And then there's-"

Before another name could be dropped, a shriek that could only be compared to a stricken pig erupted from behind; causing a jump in the gathered Romans, automatically reaching for weapons against a yet unknown and unseen foe.

"In here, darlings."The call carried nothing but doting affection; an alien aspect to the interaction so far. Turning in trepidation the gathered "conquerors" witnessed two shapes shoot from the doorway; perhaps the size of hunting hawks, maybe slightly bigger. One dark brown, the other scarlet, one spiked, one smooth; both scaled, both lizard-like, both screeching and both darting for the same place. However, the dramatic entrance would not be complete without the spiked beast knicking the exposed flesh of Acacius' arm as it passed.

"Apologies." As if she could not mean it less, watching dispassionately as he automatically flung his opposite hand to cover the wound with gritted teeth. "They are still growing, still discovering their strength."

Battle-calloused hand pressed hard over the jagged slit, he forced his breaths and did all in his power not to drop to his knees in agony. How many knocks had he taken before? Spear hits? Lances? Maces? Swords? Umpteen wounds of varying severity over a career spanning decades…HOW was he nearly blacking out in pain?!

"You two really are getting too big for this, you know." Fighting for space, the pair of now twittering creatures vied for comfort in their mistress' lap; as if one of them hadn't just mortally wounded the pride of the Roman Legion.

"Lír is still young." Alerna informed him passively, more interested in examining the beast that had done the damage than the damaged one. "His quills are somewhat delicate. He seems to be missing a few shards. They may be still in your arm. You're fortunate they are not venomous like his father's. Poor sweetpea, did you hurt your spines? You're missing a few tips, my love."

"What are those?"He panted, breath ragged and vision spotty as blood began to ooze despite the pressure of his hand.

"Saf, get a doctor before he faints. He's bleeding on my floor."

"What. Are. Those…?"Conscious enough to force his gaze upwards but not enough to heed the person jostling at his arms to tend to the wound.

"They're what you're here for." Alerna answered coldly, guarding arms encircling the monsters in her lap. "Andas I said: You are leaving empty handed."

Shards removed and arm cleaned and bandaged, Acacius swatted away the doctor and did his utmost to regain his composure; more to the point, whatever dignity might have been compromised.

"We came for the territory, not whatever those are." He managed, recovering slowly and eyeing the offending brutes who eyed him in return.

"We know that Rome is in disarray." Chimed Saf matter of factly from Alerna's side. "We know the Emperors' grasps are weak. We know the people are on the cusp of unrest. Now what better way to control the people, to scare them into submission, than to have dragons flying overhead?"

"If we know what is going on in Rome but you don't know what a dragon is… Shows how much their mighty General means to them. Letting you sail in here clueless, you could have been blown out of the water before you even know what happened."

His eye had stopped twitching and his lungs allowed deeper breaths; whatever balm applied to the slice appeared to be working.

"Your twin terrors would love nothing more than a dangerous plaything to keep their citizens in line." Alerna added, bristling at the very idea. "One half mad from fucking whatever he pleases, the other somehow worse. And you serve them willingly."

"I serve Rome. I came to claim the territory, nothing more."

"Nothing more."Alerna scoffed, glowering down at the slowly recuperating General. "The territory is controlled by she who controls the dragons. So, you have two choices: Sail home and tell your Emperors you have failed and it is common knowledge how they feel about failure." With a pregnant pause, she delivered her blow while cradling her young monsters. "Or, we save you the journey and them the trouble and incinerate your entire fleet in seconds. The water will boil beneath you, your decks will crumble to ash and your sails will curl like rice paper. The choice is yours."

Marcus Acacius took a helpless breath. The crooked old man was right. Geta and Caracalla had sent him in blind, if they even knew in the first place. But is such not the nature of conquer? One campaign after the next and hope you survive to meet the next one? Or was it simply another cruel prank that the twosome had concocted to test him? He would not dismiss that either.

"We…" Acacius swallowed, conscious of weakness though that ship may have sailed; pardon the pun. "We were promised food."