Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Character portraits
Lucius Alden
A Hundred Days
Part II
-Gates of Ludriver Castle-
Lucius jumped from the saddle and landed on the hardened snow. He felt it cracking under his boots as he hurried towards Sam O’ Dargan’s camp. It was built rashly during the early morning hours next to Lud River’s west bank. There were no fires burning to avoid detection and the cold weather coupled with the humidity of the nearby river penetrated right into your bones.
Caiden McKay, wolf pelt over his chainmail a frosted white, gave him a curt nod. Lucius greeted ‘Mad Wolf’s’ right hand man and walked up to the man himself, now discussing with a couple of warriors on the possible alternate routes through the sprawling Whitebark Woods. The massive forest extending west all the way to the next big body of water, the Umlen River.
“Ah, Lucius,” Sam rumbled seeing him. “Yer men look fancy from a distance.”
“Easier for the enemy to find them in the field,” he replied. “Wasting the day waiting for battle to start is never good on morale, especially if you’re cold.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said, looking at him with a wolfish grin. “You want me to wait, I’m told.”
“A day. I’ll march south to Ludriver Castle. I need someone to guard my rear until your father’s man crosses later.”
“Oscar Steele will be here,” Sam reassured him. “He’s as solid as they come.”
Faye wasn’t of the same opinion.
In fact the best words she’d ever said for him were that she wished he’d die like a dog.
“I may not need him, the Crulls appear unbothered,” Lucius said.
“They won’t leave Montfoot, or the fort, to march with winter season upon us.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lucius said. “A day, then you march straight North. Use the road to make good time. There’s no point trying to keep your men hidden. Let them know. I’ll rush after you before the week is over.”
“Why not strike here with every man we have?” Sam argued again, the last couple of month’s favorite point.
“I want to measure the Century’s skill, plus your men move slower. They can’t afford to lose a week. I want them across Bear’s Foot before the month is over.”
“We’ll be there in half that time,” Sam boasted.
“I’ll hold you to it, O’ Dargan,” Lucius replied and shook his arm, before returning to his horse. Zac Ross tossed him the reins and Lucius grabbed them after he climbed up. He glanced at his squire, clad in a short chain mail shirt and smiled.
“How’s the job?”
“Joe Fallon gets to second for the Slingers, milord,” Zac replied sadly. “Whilst I’ll stay at the back.”
Lucius chuckled at the young man’s boldness. Whether Zac was as brave as he thought he was or not, would soon be revealed as well.
Where every man has his measure taken, in the field.
“You think following me around is an easy task, Mister Ross?” He asked him. “You might want to have that blade of yours sharpened, afore we depart.”
The Issir coming over the top of the slope stopped dead in his tracks about a hundred meters away from the Century, worn out boots sliding down in the mud for the last couple of meters. He’d a longbow over his shoulder and stared at them in bewilderment.
Kaeso raised a hand in greeting, the cunning leer on his face ruining it. Mamercus further to the right flank of their formation, about seventy meters closer to the hunter, copied the friendly gesture leaving the smiles aside, but flicked his wrist rapidly back and forth instead signaling his squad.
“Hey,” the man mumbled, shocked at the sight of so many armed men appearing out of the morning mist. Lucius kicked his legs to approach him mounted, but Logan Barret turned his horse to block his, effectively stopping him not a meter in.
“What in Tyeus name—” Lucius snapped at the silent and disfigured warrior and the Hunter realizing by now that something was horribly wrong, turned and started running back up the slope.
At least twenty heavy slings fired on him and the majority missed, the ground exploding right and left with watery grit mixed with snow, but for three that connected with flesh and leather. The sound distinctly unforgettable and blood-curdling. As for the percentage, it was extremely low given the visibility and the target running straight up a slope at a distance of well below fifty meters, Lucius thought clenching his jaw.
The Issir, toppled forward immediately, forehead smacking the hard frosty ground with a nasty crack and then slid back down the snow-covered slope, leaving a bloody trail behind. Barret grunted, either happy or extremely mad and moved his horse out of Lucius path.
“Dig that lead out darn it! On the bloody double!” Mamercus was heard shouting incensed. “Fallon what is this shite? Ye missed!”
“Got him a bit on the leg Decanus!” The flustered youth countered, while the rest of his squad run towards the unmoving hapless hunter and started looking about for their ammunition. A couple of them turned him over to check on his condition.
“Well?” Mamercus asked anxiously, knowing he was under the scrutiny of the whole army. “Is he dead?”
“He’s missing half his head, Decanus!” A rosy faced slinger reported, glancing at the imposing mounted figure of Lucius watching them.
“Will he get up and start running ye think?” Mamercus chanced.
“Don’t see how Decanus!”
“Let’s call him dead then, what do you say?”
“Ayup, sounds about right!” the young man agreed energetically.
“Now, is he hurt in the leg perchance?” Mamercus probed next just to be thorough, looking at a red-faced Joe Fallon.
“Through the hip, Decanus.”
Mamercus frowned, his stare turning into a glare.
“Tis part of the leg, sire,” Fallon said to defend himself.
“Don’t give me lip afore the chief, ye frog-eyed lobster!” Mamercus blasted him, the soldiers laughing at their back and forth.
“I wasn’t—”
“Not another word!”
Lucius decided to put an end to it.
“That is enough,” he said briskly, then cleared his throat and turned to a still leering Kaeso. “Mister Kaeso be so kind and find Alana, or Faye. Tell them to spread about more. Let’s not have another surprise.”
“Hunters are out,” Galio said, sucking on the inside of his mouth much like Roderick used to do when worried. “No patrols.”
“It’s a good day for hunting,” Lucius commented, looking through a spyglass. “How many in the Castle?”
“Difficult to gauge, milord. Can’t be that many, I reckon. Word was Vanzon had over a thousand wounded. Brought them to Krakenhall most likely.”
“They lock that gate, we’ll be here a month,” Lucius remarked.
“Aye, or thereabouts.”
Lucius turned to Faye. “You’ve reached the bridge milady. Care to share what you’ve found out?”
“A couple of guards with horses. A big fire burning, lots of warm cider. Wish I had some,” she replied, blowing at her hands to warm up.
“They don’t expect trouble that way,” Lucius decided. “Can you hit the Hunter lodges?”
“We can,” Faye replied. “They are gonna call on the soldiers though.”
“And you will let them and withdraw,” Lucius said. “Mister Veturius, can twenty men hold the gates?”
“Why twenty milord? We can move the whole group,” the freshly promoted to Camp Prefect officer asked and seeing Lucius’ face frowned.
“The moment you’re over the slope, the lookouts will spot you Prefect,” Lucius reminded him and the aged officer grunted.
“We will march hard milord, make it there in time,” he said. “What about Lady Faye? She might get caught.”
It was what he feared.
Lucius turned to her. “Can your people disengage safely?”
“Aye, towards the bridge,” Faye said.
“No. You’ll start from the bridge. Clean it up, secure it and attack from there,” Lucius explained.
“So you want me to loop back to the Castle?” Faye asked him unsure.
“That’s the idea. Will that be a problem?” Lucius asked seeing her mulling it over.
“Any other orders, Lord Alden?” Faye taunted, recovering her wit.
“Just one,” Lucius retorted dead serious. “Don’t get killed.”
The first battle of the campaign was fought at a village whose name got lost in the records, but was referred to as Hunter Lodges also and was at a walking distance from Ludriver Castle. The Numbers warband attacked it in the early morning, coming out of the heavy mist plaguing Lud River’s main branch. Approaching from the direction of the bridge they surprised the locals, mainly hunters and their families, perhaps even a couple of Bas Crull’s visiting Rangers, who were camped at Stag’s Doab three days away. What everyone’s initial plan was is difficult to picture now so many years after the event.
Lucius’ feint, if that’s what it was, worked for the most part. Faye Numbers lost control of her scouts at some point according to the stories, either because not everyone present was in her band, or just out of pure bloodlust and the small skirmish turned into a bloodbath. Not everyone killed could use a weapon. The slaughter alerted a patrol from Ludriver Castle, or someone got away and soldiers poured out of its timber walls to help their countrymen.
While numbers are difficult to determine with accuracy or without recency bias, due to the absence of living witnesses from both sides, the later promoted to Prefect Varus Trupo, who kept the records of what was to become Lucius Legion (Styled ‘Third Legion’. Abbreviated LL, but also ‘Double L’, the Scarlet Legion and ‘Bloody Third’) mentions around two hundred and fifty, but it should be noted here that he was and still is a known Luciophile first and then a military scholar.
Whatever the numbers were, Faye Numbers got herself in trouble and was forced to retreat back towards the bridge forcing Lucius hand.
Stormbolt snorted, steam blowing out of his nostrils. Lucius turned on his saddle and glanced at the men of his Century waiting for the signal. Mamercus had approached the Castle from the north side with his Slingers and was also waiting for the sound of the horn, half-buried in the snow. Galio Veturius had tasked Kaeso, who was to be in command of the cavalry if Lucius wasn’t present, to watch the soldiers that had left Ludriver Castle earlier and notify them for any change in their plans.
Kaeso was late to report back.
Lucius turned to Zac Ross and the young man blinked seeing his face.
“Find Galio, I’m going for those gates. Hurry up, I’m not waiting for you.”
“Milord, I can’t see the Prefect!” Zac protested.
“See that guy with the big horn out of the formation?” Lucius pointed. “The fancy plumed helm next to him is Centurion Trupo. Inform him and come right back Mister Ross, else you’ll miss a charge.”
Zac gulped down and turning his horse galloped towards the main body of the army.
Where are you Kaeso? Lucius thought looking towards the trees hiding the river nervously. What’s keeping you?
“We’ll approach the gates,” Lucius instructed his riders. “No nervous moves until we have them at a breath’s distance. They’ll want to see who we are and since there’s no Northmen coming down this way, it will give them pause,” he breathed once, the air cold and smelling of the nearby wet trees. “It won’t last long. There’s no Legion in these parts and this armour I’m wearing will alarm them. I don’t care about the first gates, I want to reach the second pair before they close it. So I’ll be riding for these and you gents might want to follow. The last two riders will not enter but stay outside.”
Zac Ross rode back with a deep frown on his face, probably because Galio had told him to wait. But there was no point in wasting time. The planning part was over. Lucius raised his hand to get his group moving up the slope, but paused when he saw Kaeso approach from the river.
“Report Mister Kaeso!” He barked and the shifty-looking former legionnaire pulled at the reins hard to stop his mount, the animal protesting at the abuse.
“Faye is in trouble,” Kaeso said quickly. “They pushed her towards the bridge.”
“Ah,” Lucius grunted and turned around on the saddle hearing the Century marching, the sound traveling to all directions. Galio had probably realized Lucius wouldn’t wait and had them moving. There was no time for big changes also. Damn you. “Get to Galio,” he ordered Kaeso. “Send the Century to flank Vanzon’s men. Get Faye out of there!”
“Milord,” Kaeso protested. “What about the gates?”
“I’ll get the gates!” Lucius snapped, trying not to worry about events he couldn’t control. “Leave ten men. Move it Kaeso!” He turned to Zac Ross, the youth watching intently with a tense clench on his jaw. “Zac head for Mamercus. Tell him I want his Slingers to march on my position.”
“The gates milord?” Zac asked, as pale as snow.
A good amount of fear in there as well.
“The gates Mister Ross,” Lucius replied and clicked his tongue to turn Stormbolt around. “You better hurry up. Those Slingers will have to run on foot after you. The faster you go, the faster I’ll get support. ”
The Issir soldier, iron conned helm showing above the heavy coat he had on and half his face hidden, looked at them approaching nervously. A group of riders appearing, whilst someone else was attacking the village, a good justification for his uneasiness.
“Who goes there?” He boomed and several of his friends appeared, following a cart pulled by two horses out of the gateway. Move it, Lucius thought. Get it out of the way.
“We’re on the High King’s business,” Lucius told the guard brusquely and stopped his horse, his eyes on the slow-moving cart.
“Is that so? Where are ye coming from?” The soldier asked.
“Krakenhall. It wasn’t an easy journey,” Lucius replied. “And I need to reach Armium before it’s over.”
“Are you King Davenport’s man then?” The guard asked.
“Aye, you got it,” Lucius replied, asking his mother for forgiveness for using her family in this. He couldn’t avoid it. Lucius didn’t look like an Issir at all and neither did his riders.
The men pushed the cart out of the gateway, but one of the four there stopped and turned to look at him. Thick white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead.
Shit.
“That ain’t Lesia colors or arms. Lived there for a couple of years,” the new guard said, pushing his helm back. His beard well-trimmed and not fully white. A half-breed with smiling eyes. “They look more like Legion colors to me and that tiger on yer shield gives me Alden tiger vibes. Ayup, I frequented this southern lass in Asturia last summer. Smart as a whip. She embroidered these square patches wit that design, then stitched them on togas. Big hit wit the younger lads,” he finished with a smug smirk looking at his friends. Some of them taking it in stride, but a couple -the first guard included- grimacing at the mention of Lucius family’s name. A portion of the Battle of the Bridges had been fought pretty close to this guard’s post.
A well-travelled half-breed in the middle of nowhere, Lucius thought scrunching his jaw and unsheathed his longsword. With all the talking and standing around, there was no way to surprise this group. They needed to fight through them.
Stormbolt charged forward the few meters separating the two groups, bumped the first Issir on the chest and pushed him back. The soldier cursed his sword half-out of its scabbard and Lucius twirled Stormbolt on his axis to stop a soldier carrying a spear from skewering him through the kidneys. He parried the shaft away with his blade, another soldier running towards him sword drawn and raised high. The shock of violence casting a relative quietness at the gates of Ludriver Castle.
Lucius flinched trying to reach for his shield, secured on a hook at the left side of his saddle, but before he could do that a rider crashed hard on the onrushing soldier and send his shattered body on the cart laden with medical supplies and food.
The incident a bit ironic, but most men present missed it in the ensuing mayhem.
“Damn it. Attack them afore they sound the alarm!” Lucius bellowed and kicked an Issir trying to knife Eli Sharp -the rider that had saved him- in the back, sneaking behind his horse’s hind-legs. Lucius missed his boot flying wide -the angle horrible- but the large northern horse got spooked and kicked back with its hind legs in its turn nailing the unlucky soldier right in the face with both iron reinforced horseshoe-covered hoofs.
“Ah, the damnation!” Someone yelled, seeing the whole thing from up close.
The skull exploded, foul gore, bone fragments and mushy brains reaching a five meter radius and the conned helm banged the tall wall surrounding the keep next to the gatehouse, after traveling even further than that. Everyone nearby stood frozen and bewildered for the briefest of moments after it happened. It didn’t last even that as another rider brutally skewered the well-travelled Issir through the torso, the point of the spear jabbing the cart’s sides and getting stuck there. The half-breed dying instantly.
“The gates!” Lucius barked, twisting Stormbolt around again, stopping the recovered first soldier with a savage high slash across the face that send him on the muddy ground a gory mess. Inside the Castle a bell was heard, but as he stood staring at the empty opening, Lucius realized they had a clear shot to the heart of the Castle. Without a second thought he galloped through the gateway, Eli Sharp, Zac Ross and the others following right behind him.
Lucius ducked under a wild swing, the axe clipping his shoulder plate, moved past the tall sergeant and stabbed an Issir wearing long chainmail through the chest almost losing the handle on his sword. Stormbolt neighed disturbed, a woman cried at the top of her lungs and people started coming out into the large yard.
“Milord!” Zac yelled on his back and Lucius pulled at the reins of his horse. Stormbolt protested, but he jumped from the saddle and barked for the last of their group to secure the gates for the others. He looked around for anyone advancing on him, but while people had come out looking worried, no soldiers were among them. The axe-yielding sergeant manning the internal gates had died to a spear three meters behind him and Zac reached Lucius a breath later.
“Milord Alden!”
“Not now,” Lucius growled and turned to the large group of men and women eyeing them with increasing hostility. “The castle is ours!” He bellowed to be heard by everyone. “Don’t force me to spill blood for no reason!”
“What about Jerry over there?” Someone retorted, many backing him. “Seems pretty dead to me and plenty bleeding!”
“Ah,” Lucius grunted and glared at the apron wearing Issir. “Stay back, I won’t say it again.”
There was commotion outside the gates behind him and the crowd turned unruly. A lot of men and some women had blades in their hands, long shafted axes and even cleavers. This part of the yard probably served as a small meat market for the nearby hunters’ village.
“Our lads are back!” Another yelled.
“Get ‘em bastards!” Urged the first and about thirty of the almost a hundred present made to rush a teeth-grinding Lucius and his riders, half of them unmounted following his example. Their numbers about even, but in such a confined and hostile area, a lot of people were going to die.
A lot of people did.
Zac grabbed Lucius arm and pulled him to the side, just as Mamercu’s Slingers that had sprinted inside unleashed their first volley. This time the distance was meaningless and the throng of packed up people too great for them to miss, taking also into account that their nerves had settled after that first kill and the long run.
“Cease this madness damn it!” Lucius growled his throat hoarse and almost punched Mamercus in the face, when the Decanus raised his arm to order another volley, tone-deaf in the general panic that had ensued after that first one. People laid broken and fading before them. Two thirds of the group that had charged initially, now horrifically mutilated or dead. Heads sporting gaping and bleeding holes, arms broken, torsos caved in and the gore painting the yard’s muddy ground even darker.
The fight had been snuffed out of the civilians present.
“Nobody fires another shot without my order! These people have surrendered,” Lucius barked and shoved Mamercus away to walk towards the gates, young Zac guiding the horses after him a look of horror on his face.
Lucius breathed a sigh of relief seeing Decanus Gladius Tutor approach on a fast trot, followed by a group of soldiers clad in red Legion armor.
“Milord Alden!” Gladius, a thirty something Lorian serving with the Black Skulls to avoid paying for a crime he had committed while with the Legion in his youth, had taken this second chance at redemption with enthusiasm.
Lucius returned the officer’s salute. “Decanus secure the gates and send some men to keep an eye inside the yard and assist Decanus Sorex. I’m pulling my riders out. The Castle is yours, Decanus Tutor.”
“You heard him,” Gladius barked to his men. “On the fucking double! Mister Solomon I mean it! Yes, you Brim! Move yer arses!”
Right, Lucius thought breathing heavy though much relieved for the success of this part of his plan. Not everything had gone smoothly, but there was no such thing in war. Lucius realized he was drenched in sweat despite the cold morning.
Ride to the sound of battle.
“Mister Zac,” he told his half-panicked half-sick squire. “This was the easy part. Form the men smartly, so we can save Lady Faye. What say you?”
“Right away, milord,” Zac croaked, trying to sound brave and failing. “Do you think she’s in trouble?”
Lucius had no idea and he’d avoided thinking about it. It wasn’t easy, actually it was quite the opposite, but he just couldn’t afford to dwell on it with so many men and women’s fates tied to his decision making. Fight now, Lucius told himself clenching his jaw. Mourn, or rejoice later.
If you’re worthy Tyeus shall provide.
The First Century reached the Ludriver’s main branch bridge an hour later, making good time. The then Scout Leader Faye ‘Scarlet’ Numbers had pulled her men on the bridge, no more than fifty of them and was defending the narrow front successfully. The enemy forces numbering in the two hundred and fifty, perhaps as many as three hundred, had avoided an all-out assault trying to consolidate their numbers first, their lack in courage blatant.
Seeing our banners approaching, they hurriedly turned to face our swords. Newly promoted then Prefect Veturius, ordered the men to stand fast and use javelins to break the enemies charge. After the volley, the signal was given for the wings of the formation to expand, a thrice increase to the front that was now heavily engaged. The maneuver was executed with astounding success and we enveloped the enemy on three sides. Scout Leader Faye Numbers decided at that nigh opportune moment to counter attack on the side that was left open. She did just that breaking out of the stone bridge delivering the coup de grace.
This was a total victory and it being the first battle the Legion got involved in, it set the tone quite lovely. The only blemish of the day being the soldiers spared no man, witch didn’t sit well with Lord Alden. A cultured and well-educated man, he preached for long about the need to show mercy to one’s enemies, but only if that wouldn’t endanger the outfit. The latter part being what most men present chose to pay attention to, through no fault of the general.
-
Scarlet Legion,
(An Account)
-Year One-
Securing the rear,
Winter of 190 NC
Prefect (retired) Varus Trupo,
Lord of Novesium,
3rd Legion’s Historian,
Military Scholar,
King’s Council
-Circa 205 NC-
Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Character portraits
Lucius Alden
A Hundred Days
Part II
-Gates of Ludriver Castle-
Lucius jumped from the saddle and landed on the hardened snow. He felt it cracking under his boots as he hurried towards Sam O’ Dargan’s camp. It was built rashly during the early morning hours next to Lud River’s west bank. There were no fires burning to avoid detection and the cold weather coupled with the humidity of the nearby river penetrated right into your bones.
Caiden McKay, wolf pelt over his chainmail a frosted white, gave him a curt nod. Lucius greeted ‘Mad Wolf’s’ right hand man and walked up to the man himself, now discussing with a couple of warriors on the possible alternate routes through the sprawling Whitebark Woods. The massive forest extending west all the way to the next big body of water, the Umlen River.
“Ah, Lucius,” Sam rumbled seeing him. “Yer men look fancy from a distance.”
“Easier for the enemy to find them in the field,” he replied. “Wasting the day waiting for battle to start is never good on morale, especially if you’re cold.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Sam said, looking at him with a wolfish grin. “You want me to wait, I’m told.”
“A day. I’ll march south to Ludriver Castle. I need someone to guard my rear until your father’s man crosses later.”
“Oscar Steele will be here,” Sam reassured him. “He’s as solid as they come.”
Faye wasn’t of the same opinion.
In fact the best words she’d ever said for him were that she wished he’d die like a dog.
“I may not need him, the Crulls appear unbothered,” Lucius said.
“They won’t leave Montfoot, or the fort, to march with winter season upon us.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lucius said. “A day, then you march straight North. Use the road to make good time. There’s no point trying to keep your men hidden. Let them know. I’ll rush after you before the week is over.”
“Why not strike here with every man we have?” Sam argued again, the last couple of month’s favorite point.
“I want to measure the Century’s skill, plus your men move slower. They can’t afford to lose a week. I want them across Bear’s Foot before the month is over.”
“We’ll be there in half that time,” Sam boasted.
“I’ll hold you to it, O’ Dargan,” Lucius replied and shook his arm, before returning to his horse. Zac Ross tossed him the reins and Lucius grabbed them after he climbed up. He glanced at his squire, clad in a short chain mail shirt and smiled.
“How’s the job?”
“Joe Fallon gets to second for the Slingers, milord,” Zac replied sadly. “Whilst I’ll stay at the back.”
Lucius chuckled at the young man’s boldness. Whether Zac was as brave as he thought he was or not, would soon be revealed as well.
Where every man has his measure taken, in the field.
“You think following me around is an easy task, Mister Ross?” He asked him. “You might want to have that blade of yours sharpened, afore we depart.”
The Issir coming over the top of the slope stopped dead in his tracks about a hundred meters away from the Century, worn out boots sliding down in the mud for the last couple of meters. He’d a longbow over his shoulder and stared at them in bewilderment.
Kaeso raised a hand in greeting, the cunning leer on his face ruining it. Mamercus further to the right flank of their formation, about seventy meters closer to the hunter, copied the friendly gesture leaving the smiles aside, but flicked his wrist rapidly back and forth instead signaling his squad.
“Hey,” the man mumbled, shocked at the sight of so many armed men appearing out of the morning mist. Lucius kicked his legs to approach him mounted, but Logan Barret turned his horse to block his, effectively stopping him not a meter in.
“What in Tyeus name—” Lucius snapped at the silent and disfigured warrior and the Hunter realizing by now that something was horribly wrong, turned and started running back up the slope.
At least twenty heavy slings fired on him and the majority missed, the ground exploding right and left with watery grit mixed with snow, but for three that connected with flesh and leather. The sound distinctly unforgettable and blood-curdling. As for the percentage, it was extremely low given the visibility and the target running straight up a slope at a distance of well below fifty meters, Lucius thought clenching his jaw.
The Issir, toppled forward immediately, forehead smacking the hard frosty ground with a nasty crack and then slid back down the snow-covered slope, leaving a bloody trail behind. Barret grunted, either happy or extremely mad and moved his horse out of Lucius path.
“Dig that lead out darn it! On the bloody double!” Mamercus was heard shouting incensed. “Fallon what is this shite? Ye missed!”
“Got him a bit on the leg Decanus!” The flustered youth countered, while the rest of his squad run towards the unmoving hapless hunter and started looking about for their ammunition. A couple of them turned him over to check on his condition.
“Well?” Mamercus asked anxiously, knowing he was under the scrutiny of the whole army. “Is he dead?”
“He’s missing half his head, Decanus!” A rosy faced slinger reported, glancing at the imposing mounted figure of Lucius watching them.
“Will he get up and start running ye think?” Mamercus chanced.
“Don’t see how Decanus!”
“Let’s call him dead then, what do you say?”
“Ayup, sounds about right!” the young man agreed energetically.
“Now, is he hurt in the leg perchance?” Mamercus probed next just to be thorough, looking at a red-faced Joe Fallon.
“Through the hip, Decanus.”
Mamercus frowned, his stare turning into a glare.
“Tis part of the leg, sire,” Fallon said to defend himself.
“Don’t give me lip afore the chief, ye frog-eyed lobster!” Mamercus blasted him, the soldiers laughing at their back and forth.
“I wasn’t—”
“Not another word!”
Lucius decided to put an end to it.
“That is enough,” he said briskly, then cleared his throat and turned to a still leering Kaeso. “Mister Kaeso be so kind and find Alana, or Faye. Tell them to spread about more. Let’s not have another surprise.”
“Hunters are out,” Galio said, sucking on the inside of his mouth much like Roderick used to do when worried. “No patrols.”
“It’s a good day for hunting,” Lucius commented, looking through a spyglass. “How many in the Castle?”
“Difficult to gauge, milord. Can’t be that many, I reckon. Word was Vanzon had over a thousand wounded. Brought them to Krakenhall most likely.”
“They lock that gate, we’ll be here a month,” Lucius remarked.
“Aye, or thereabouts.”
Lucius turned to Faye. “You’ve reached the bridge milady. Care to share what you’ve found out?”
“A couple of guards with horses. A big fire burning, lots of warm cider. Wish I had some,” she replied, blowing at her hands to warm up.
“They don’t expect trouble that way,” Lucius decided. “Can you hit the Hunter lodges?”
“We can,” Faye replied. “They are gonna call on the soldiers though.”
“And you will let them and withdraw,” Lucius said. “Mister Veturius, can twenty men hold the gates?”
“Why twenty milord? We can move the whole group,” the freshly promoted to Camp Prefect officer asked and seeing Lucius’ face frowned.
“The moment you’re over the slope, the lookouts will spot you Prefect,” Lucius reminded him and the aged officer grunted.
“We will march hard milord, make it there in time,” he said. “What about Lady Faye? She might get caught.”
It was what he feared.
Lucius turned to her. “Can your people disengage safely?”
“Aye, towards the bridge,” Faye said.
“No. You’ll start from the bridge. Clean it up, secure it and attack from there,” Lucius explained.
“So you want me to loop back to the Castle?” Faye asked him unsure.
“That’s the idea. Will that be a problem?” Lucius asked seeing her mulling it over.
“Any other orders, Lord Alden?” Faye taunted, recovering her wit.
“Just one,” Lucius retorted dead serious. “Don’t get killed.”
The first battle of the campaign was fought at a village whose name got lost in the records, but was referred to as Hunter Lodges also and was at a walking distance from Ludriver Castle. The Numbers warband attacked it in the early morning, coming out of the heavy mist plaguing Lud River’s main branch. Approaching from the direction of the bridge they surprised the locals, mainly hunters and their families, perhaps even a couple of Bas Crull’s visiting Rangers, who were camped at Stag’s Doab three days away. What everyone’s initial plan was is difficult to picture now so many years after the event.
Lucius’ feint, if that’s what it was, worked for the most part. Faye Numbers lost control of her scouts at some point according to the stories, either because not everyone present was in her band, or just out of pure bloodlust and the small skirmish turned into a bloodbath. Not everyone killed could use a weapon. The slaughter alerted a patrol from Ludriver Castle, or someone got away and soldiers poured out of its timber walls to help their countrymen.
While numbers are difficult to determine with accuracy or without recency bias, due to the absence of living witnesses from both sides, the later promoted to Prefect Varus Trupo, who kept the records of what was to become Lucius Legion (Styled ‘Third Legion’. Abbreviated LL, but also ‘Double L’, the Scarlet Legion and ‘Bloody Third’) mentions around two hundred and fifty, but it should be noted here that he was and still is a known Luciophile first and then a military scholar.
Whatever the numbers were, Faye Numbers got herself in trouble and was forced to retreat back towards the bridge forcing Lucius hand.
Stormbolt snorted, steam blowing out of his nostrils. Lucius turned on his saddle and glanced at the men of his Century waiting for the signal. Mamercus had approached the Castle from the north side with his Slingers and was also waiting for the sound of the horn, half-buried in the snow. Galio Veturius had tasked Kaeso, who was to be in command of the cavalry if Lucius wasn’t present, to watch the soldiers that had left Ludriver Castle earlier and notify them for any change in their plans.
Kaeso was late to report back.
Lucius turned to Zac Ross and the young man blinked seeing his face.
“Find Galio, I’m going for those gates. Hurry up, I’m not waiting for you.”
“Milord, I can’t see the Prefect!” Zac protested.
“See that guy with the big horn out of the formation?” Lucius pointed. “The fancy plumed helm next to him is Centurion Trupo. Inform him and come right back Mister Ross, else you’ll miss a charge.”
Zac gulped down and turning his horse galloped towards the main body of the army.
Where are you Kaeso? Lucius thought looking towards the trees hiding the river nervously. What’s keeping you?
“We’ll approach the gates,” Lucius instructed his riders. “No nervous moves until we have them at a breath’s distance. They’ll want to see who we are and since there’s no Northmen coming down this way, it will give them pause,” he breathed once, the air cold and smelling of the nearby wet trees. “It won’t last long. There’s no Legion in these parts and this armour I’m wearing will alarm them. I don’t care about the first gates, I want to reach the second pair before they close it. So I’ll be riding for these and you gents might want to follow. The last two riders will not enter but stay outside.”
Zac Ross rode back with a deep frown on his face, probably because Galio had told him to wait. But there was no point in wasting time. The planning part was over. Lucius raised his hand to get his group moving up the slope, but paused when he saw Kaeso approach from the river.
“Report Mister Kaeso!” He barked and the shifty-looking former legionnaire pulled at the reins hard to stop his mount, the animal protesting at the abuse.
“Faye is in trouble,” Kaeso said quickly. “They pushed her towards the bridge.”
“Ah,” Lucius grunted and turned around on the saddle hearing the Century marching, the sound traveling to all directions. Galio had probably realized Lucius wouldn’t wait and had them moving. There was no time for big changes also. Damn you. “Get to Galio,” he ordered Kaeso. “Send the Century to flank Vanzon’s men. Get Faye out of there!”
“Milord,” Kaeso protested. “What about the gates?”
“I’ll get the gates!” Lucius snapped, trying not to worry about events he couldn’t control. “Leave ten men. Move it Kaeso!” He turned to Zac Ross, the youth watching intently with a tense clench on his jaw. “Zac head for Mamercus. Tell him I want his Slingers to march on my position.”
“The gates milord?” Zac asked, as pale as snow.
A good amount of fear in there as well.
“The gates Mister Ross,” Lucius replied and clicked his tongue to turn Stormbolt around. “You better hurry up. Those Slingers will have to run on foot after you. The faster you go, the faster I’ll get support. ”
The Issir soldier, iron conned helm showing above the heavy coat he had on and half his face hidden, looked at them approaching nervously. A group of riders appearing, whilst someone else was attacking the village, a good justification for his uneasiness.
“Who goes there?” He boomed and several of his friends appeared, following a cart pulled by two horses out of the gateway. Move it, Lucius thought. Get it out of the way.
“We’re on the High King’s business,” Lucius told the guard brusquely and stopped his horse, his eyes on the slow-moving cart.
“Is that so? Where are ye coming from?” The soldier asked.
“Krakenhall. It wasn’t an easy journey,” Lucius replied. “And I need to reach Armium before it’s over.”
“Are you King Davenport’s man then?” The guard asked.
“Aye, you got it,” Lucius replied, asking his mother for forgiveness for using her family in this. He couldn’t avoid it. Lucius didn’t look like an Issir at all and neither did his riders.
The men pushed the cart out of the gateway, but one of the four there stopped and turned to look at him. Thick white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead.
Shit.
“That ain’t Lesia colors or arms. Lived there for a couple of years,” the new guard said, pushing his helm back. His beard well-trimmed and not fully white. A half-breed with smiling eyes. “They look more like Legion colors to me and that tiger on yer shield gives me Alden tiger vibes. Ayup, I frequented this southern lass in Asturia last summer. Smart as a whip. She embroidered these square patches wit that design, then stitched them on togas. Big hit wit the younger lads,” he finished with a smug smirk looking at his friends. Some of them taking it in stride, but a couple -the first guard included- grimacing at the mention of Lucius family’s name. A portion of the Battle of the Bridges had been fought pretty close to this guard’s post.
A well-travelled half-breed in the middle of nowhere, Lucius thought scrunching his jaw and unsheathed his longsword. With all the talking and standing around, there was no way to surprise this group. They needed to fight through them.
Stormbolt charged forward the few meters separating the two groups, bumped the first Issir on the chest and pushed him back. The soldier cursed his sword half-out of its scabbard and Lucius twirled Stormbolt on his axis to stop a soldier carrying a spear from skewering him through the kidneys. He parried the shaft away with his blade, another soldier running towards him sword drawn and raised high. The shock of violence casting a relative quietness at the gates of Ludriver Castle.
Lucius flinched trying to reach for his shield, secured on a hook at the left side of his saddle, but before he could do that a rider crashed hard on the onrushing soldier and send his shattered body on the cart laden with medical supplies and food.
The incident a bit ironic, but most men present missed it in the ensuing mayhem.
“Damn it. Attack them afore they sound the alarm!” Lucius bellowed and kicked an Issir trying to knife Eli Sharp -the rider that had saved him- in the back, sneaking behind his horse’s hind-legs. Lucius missed his boot flying wide -the angle horrible- but the large northern horse got spooked and kicked back with its hind legs in its turn nailing the unlucky soldier right in the face with both iron reinforced horseshoe-covered hoofs.
“Ah, the damnation!” Someone yelled, seeing the whole thing from up close.
The skull exploded, foul gore, bone fragments and mushy brains reaching a five meter radius and the conned helm banged the tall wall surrounding the keep next to the gatehouse, after traveling even further than that. Everyone nearby stood frozen and bewildered for the briefest of moments after it happened. It didn’t last even that as another rider brutally skewered the well-travelled Issir through the torso, the point of the spear jabbing the cart’s sides and getting stuck there. The half-breed dying instantly.
“The gates!” Lucius barked, twisting Stormbolt around again, stopping the recovered first soldier with a savage high slash across the face that send him on the muddy ground a gory mess. Inside the Castle a bell was heard, but as he stood staring at the empty opening, Lucius realized they had a clear shot to the heart of the Castle. Without a second thought he galloped through the gateway, Eli Sharp, Zac Ross and the others following right behind him.
Lucius ducked under a wild swing, the axe clipping his shoulder plate, moved past the tall sergeant and stabbed an Issir wearing long chainmail through the chest almost losing the handle on his sword. Stormbolt neighed disturbed, a woman cried at the top of her lungs and people started coming out into the large yard.
“Milord!” Zac yelled on his back and Lucius pulled at the reins of his horse. Stormbolt protested, but he jumped from the saddle and barked for the last of their group to secure the gates for the others. He looked around for anyone advancing on him, but while people had come out looking worried, no soldiers were among them. The axe-yielding sergeant manning the internal gates had died to a spear three meters behind him and Zac reached Lucius a breath later.
“Milord Alden!”
“Not now,” Lucius growled and turned to the large group of men and women eyeing them with increasing hostility. “The castle is ours!” He bellowed to be heard by everyone. “Don’t force me to spill blood for no reason!”
“What about Jerry over there?” Someone retorted, many backing him. “Seems pretty dead to me and plenty bleeding!”
“Ah,” Lucius grunted and glared at the apron wearing Issir. “Stay back, I won’t say it again.”
There was commotion outside the gates behind him and the crowd turned unruly. A lot of men and some women had blades in their hands, long shafted axes and even cleavers. This part of the yard probably served as a small meat market for the nearby hunters’ village.
“Our lads are back!” Another yelled.
“Get ‘em bastards!” Urged the first and about thirty of the almost a hundred present made to rush a teeth-grinding Lucius and his riders, half of them unmounted following his example. Their numbers about even, but in such a confined and hostile area, a lot of people were going to die.
A lot of people did.
Zac grabbed Lucius arm and pulled him to the side, just as Mamercu’s Slingers that had sprinted inside unleashed their first volley. This time the distance was meaningless and the throng of packed up people too great for them to miss, taking also into account that their nerves had settled after that first kill and the long run.
“Cease this madness damn it!” Lucius growled his throat hoarse and almost punched Mamercus in the face, when the Decanus raised his arm to order another volley, tone-deaf in the general panic that had ensued after that first one. People laid broken and fading before them. Two thirds of the group that had charged initially, now horrifically mutilated or dead. Heads sporting gaping and bleeding holes, arms broken, torsos caved in and the gore painting the yard’s muddy ground even darker.
The fight had been snuffed out of the civilians present.
“Nobody fires another shot without my order! These people have surrendered,” Lucius barked and shoved Mamercus away to walk towards the gates, young Zac guiding the horses after him a look of horror on his face.
Lucius breathed a sigh of relief seeing Decanus Gladius Tutor approach on a fast trot, followed by a group of soldiers clad in red Legion armor.
“Milord Alden!” Gladius, a thirty something Lorian serving with the Black Skulls to avoid paying for a crime he had committed while with the Legion in his youth, had taken this second chance at redemption with enthusiasm.
Lucius returned the officer’s salute. “Decanus secure the gates and send some men to keep an eye inside the yard and assist Decanus Sorex. I’m pulling my riders out. The Castle is yours, Decanus Tutor.”
“You heard him,” Gladius barked to his men. “On the fucking double! Mister Solomon I mean it! Yes, you Brim! Move yer arses!”
Right, Lucius thought breathing heavy though much relieved for the success of this part of his plan. Not everything had gone smoothly, but there was no such thing in war. Lucius realized he was drenched in sweat despite the cold morning.
Ride to the sound of battle.
“Mister Zac,” he told his half-panicked half-sick squire. “This was the easy part. Form the men smartly, so we can save Lady Faye. What say you?”
“Right away, milord,” Zac croaked, trying to sound brave and failing. “Do you think she’s in trouble?”
Lucius had no idea and he’d avoided thinking about it. It wasn’t easy, actually it was quite the opposite, but he just couldn’t afford to dwell on it with so many men and women’s fates tied to his decision making. Fight now, Lucius told himself clenching his jaw. Mourn, or rejoice later.
If you’re worthy Tyeus shall provide.
The First Century reached the Ludriver’s main branch bridge an hour later, making good time. The then Scout Leader Faye ‘Scarlet’ Numbers had pulled her men on the bridge, no more than fifty of them and was defending the narrow front successfully. The enemy forces numbering in the two hundred and fifty, perhaps as many as three hundred, had avoided an all-out assault trying to consolidate their numbers first, their lack in courage blatant.
Seeing our banners approaching, they hurriedly turned to face our swords. Newly promoted then Prefect Veturius, ordered the men to stand fast and use javelins to break the enemies charge. After the volley, the signal was given for the wings of the formation to expand, a thrice increase to the front that was now heavily engaged. The maneuver was executed with astounding success and we enveloped the enemy on three sides. Scout Leader Faye Numbers decided at that nigh opportune moment to counter attack on the side that was left open. She did just that breaking out of the stone bridge delivering the coup de grace.
This was a total victory and it being the first battle the Legion got involved in, it set the tone quite lovely. The only blemish of the day being the soldiers spared no man, witch didn’t sit well with Lord Alden. A cultured and well-educated man, he preached for long about the need to show mercy to one’s enemies, but only if that wouldn’t endanger the outfit. The latter part being what most men present chose to pay attention to, through no fault of the general.
-
Scarlet Legion,
(An Account)
-Year One-
Securing the rear,
Winter of 190 NC
Prefect (retired) Varus Trupo,
Lord of Novesium,
3rd Legion’s Historian,
Military Scholar,
King’s Council
-Circa 205 NC-
