The Roman Legion Palatine Forum http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/listing.php3?forum=1 en-us Copyright 1997-2006 Roman Legion, All Rights Reserved. Sat, 19 May 2012 09:28:56 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11400 There should be more people participating in the elections Mon, 22 Dec 2008 07:01:26 -0500 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11398 I have just signed up with the Roman Legion for a career.

I am currently posted in Rome and it would seem logical to join my legion in Africa.

How do I go about this please ?

Cui Bono

Lucius Gracchus Thu, 18 Dec 2008 18:08:03 -0500 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11386 Would all soldiers in the game reading this please email the GM's at secretscenarios@yahoo.com with your character name, rank and which legion (if known) you are from.

Thank you.

Ferus Juventas Sat, 04 Oct 2008 18:14:30 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11383 Look, things are moving again, and we do not need this site to keep active. So far, only a handful PCs actually use the OOC forum Site.

But I have gotten alot done in a short amount of time via that site, and if you all want to play this game in the future on this site again, i suggest you help keep it alive on the OOC site. If not, you can all probably forget about RL cause if enough people don't play then why even try to move it to a new site?

Come on people, get fracking active!

Paul of NY Mon, 22 Sep 2008 12:30:00 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11380 ***Tribune Carus Valens Julianus takes the stand***

The Villae Honestus Lepida Sariana is now for sale. It is located in the resort city of Tivoli and its past owners include such figures as Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius, Dominus Augustus Varro, Sarius Lepidus Vitellius. The current owners are seeking to sell the estate in order to provide for the wife and children of the exiled Consul. It's value is estimated at 5,000,000c. But bidding shall commence at 2,500,000c. Good luck, gentlemen. Wed, 10 Sep 2008 04:30:11 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11378
Due several problems with my previous icq number I change it for : 377 987 719 (nick name Marian Vitelli)

My character´s name : Sejanus Lucius Vitellius
Rank : Tribune

Please update your contacts,
Thank you

Armando Santos Mon, 08 Sep 2008 13:53:01 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11373 Hoo! Sat, 06 Sep 2008 16:19:17 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11372 More people should be joing the elections they need to be more competative because at the moment its like taking candy from a baby Sun, 03 Aug 2008 05:25:30 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11371 The site is back up (again), but we don't know how long it will remain up. Therefore, like last time, we ask that you continue using the IC boards on the "OOC Forum" site. Wed, 16 Jul 2008 16:58:32 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11369 Test? Tue, 15 Jul 2008 22:39:26 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11367 Though the site is up, it is temporary at the moment, so we still ask that you all continue to use the OOC Forums until RL is back up completely.

Phil Tue, 08 Jul 2008 13:17:01 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11364 Yay! Mon, 07 Jul 2008 01:57:01 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11361 === Flavus Palace, East Wing, Sextilis 132 AD ===

Sillius Ramirus Flavus circled his opponent like a lion circling it’s prey. Every week he and his men would spar and train to keep themselves in the goal of being in top fighting condition. They had been granted a leave from the legion to handle personal issues in Rome. There weekly sessions had gone from a small affair to a weekly spectacle. Aenoria and Cassia Losto, Daughters of Senator Flavus Augustus Losto had begun to visit the weekly show, taking in the company of the well groomed and fit men. But this day was unlike other days; this day Ramirus had enlisted the services of two gladiators to give his men a greater challenge.

Most of his men had been beaten in single combat, over powered by these men who fight to the death on a daily basis. Now Ramirus stood with lien pants on and no shirt on, sweating as he had gone several rounds against this gladiator.

“You fight well young master- you must have killed many men.” The gladiator said as he sized Ramirus up, looking for a weakness.

“I was taught to fight when I was very young. My father demanded it.” Ramirus said. He scowled and took a defensive stance. “But enough chit chat slave! Are you going to fight or talk?”

The gladiator cracked a smile and came forward with two slashing moves then a thrust with his wooden practice sword. Ramirus moved back making sure not to be in the range of his slashes then swooped his sword down to block the thrust. The gladiator followed the thrust with a flurry of other slashes and thrusts all being met with blocks from Ramirus.

Ramirus lowered his sword hand slightly. Seeing this as a sign of fatigue, knowing that is what Ramirus wanted, the gladiator swung his sword wildly. Ramirus ducked the blow hitting the gladiator in the gut with his sword. The gladiator slammed the wooden sword to the ground in frustration.

Ramirus smiled patting the large German on the shoulder. “You kept looking for a weakness so I gave you one, then exploited it to win.”

Keeping his head down to look submissive, the gladiator reached up and squeezed Ramirus’s wrist tightly as it rested on his shoulder, pressing his thumb forcibly between the tendons of his arm. Ramirus, not wanting to look weak, refused to pull away from the pain, and listened to the gladiator’s hissed words: “I let you win because you hired me. You exploited nothing but my masters greed.”

Ramirus smiled and looked around, being sure to appear as if nothing was wrong before his audience. They were deceived. The onlookers began to clap for the pair who had fought a hard battle with little flaw in their fighting styles. Aenoria arose from her seat carrying a towel and silver cup filled with water. She handed the towel to Ramirus who wiped the sweat from his face and chest before taking the cup and gulping back the cool contents.

“Thank you milady, I hope you enjoyed the match?” He asked in a lower tone of voice, locking eyes with the young Losto girl.

Aenoria smiled, taken by his rugged and strong appearance. “I did indeed; your skills are impressive and I applaud you.” She slowly wrapped her fingers around the cup and took it from Ramirus’s hands, then gently pressed it against her lips and took a slow sensual sip. Ramirus smiled as the young girl teased his sensibilities.

“Have you spoken to your father about my request?”, he asked bluntly.

“What request would that be?” Aenoria asked, coyly.

“You play games Aenoria, but you know what I’m talking about.”

The girl chuckled and began to walk off towards her sister and her two slaves that had accompanied them to the palace.

Ramirus wiped his face again, smiling in embarrassed frustration and lust. “I will have an answer Aenoria?”

“When my father gives you one, you will have one. Do not demand from me Ramirus I am not your wife yet.” She smiled over her shoulder. “As my father told you before, I have another offer for my hand. He hasn’t decide out of the two of you who is more worthy.”

Ramirus put his hands up and spun in a circle, smiling like a boy. “Look at all this: This is all mine! Hhow could I not be worthy?”

Aenoria reached her sister and the two girls giggled together, whispering under their breath hurriedly. Cassia, the younger of the two, cleared the smile from her face and looked Ramirus dead on. “True Ramirus, you have a great palace and a great name but your family has a been seen as a reputation for…well for trouble.”

Ramirus became annoyed, as if Cassia had intentionally sought to disrupt his sincere efforts. “The father and grandfather both served Rome and would have died before they let anything befall her. Besides that, they’re both dead, and with them all the deeds of the past.” Ramirus walked closer to Aenoria, quickly grabbing her hand and placing it on flat yet undefined stomach. “Could you really see yourself married to that slob Lupas?”

Aenoria closed her eyes for minute, letting them flutter with a quick flash of eroticism, then quickly drew back her hand. “Lupas is nice and sweet and he always remembers to bring me peaches. You are a soldier. You’re arrogant and crude.”

Ramirus chuckled as he began to walk to the doorway where his guard and friend Cassius was standing. He stopped midway and turned facing the pair of sisters. “…but very good looking!” the two girls blushed and giggled.

The two girls blushed as he walked away, getting up close to Cassius. He whispered, out of range from anyone nearby: “Setius Lupus…make him go away. Don’t kill him but make sure by tomorrow he withdraws his offer for her hand.”

Cassius nodded, happy to help. Ramirus glanced back at Aenoria, noting that her black wavy hair went down the middle of her back. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with olive skin and a perfect smile. She carried herself with the pose and elegance of nobility. Ramirus had been somewhat of a womanizer bedding several merchants’ daughters and any other woman that caught his eye in the past, but this was different. She was different. She was unlike anything he had ever known.

=== A bathhouse, Viminal Hill ===

“He’s in there.” A man said.. “He has a private bath to himself and three guards- one outside in a near by ally with a whore and two inside.”

Cassius stood with his cloak on as he listened to one of his men give a report. “Has the operator of the bath been paid off?”

“Yes sir, I did that earlier today.”

“What about our men?” Cassius questioned.

“Our men have positioned themselve in the same room as his guards. Vibius has even begun a conversation with one of his men. The poor sap is clueless...”

Cassius shook his head, smiling sinisterly. “... and the insurance?”

“It was delivered to a room in a brothel we rented out for the day. There are two guards on that, it wont be a problem” The guard handed Cassius a few strands of hair, which he quickly balled up into his hand.

“Then let us begin.” Cassius strolled into the bath house and nodded at the owner who immediately understood and cleared the front room, which was nearly empty anyway. Cassius made his way into a smaller room where he saw Vibius talking to one of Lupas’s guards. Vibius pretended to be amused at the guards comments laughing loudly. As soon as he saw Cassius enter peripherally, he headbutted the guard in the face as hard as he could..

The force of the blow knocked the guard back onto the floor, unconscious. The other guard sprung to his feet as soon as it happend, but was immediately tackled by three of Cassius’s men and hit over his head, incapacitating him as well. Cassius waited a few moments to see if the noise was enough to rouse Lupas from his bath; With nothing more then a few choice words from the room all else was quiet.

Lupus sat in the bath, his head back and arms extended to the sides in an almost euphoric state. He she shifted in the water and sighed deeply as his mind cleared of all thoughts. He opened his eyes partly to reveal a man kneeling over him before being pushed down under the hot water. Cassius held his head under the water for a few moments before pulling him back up, hair in fist.

“Is your name Setius Lupas?”

Lupas gasped for air and struggled to get up but was pushed back under the water once again. He kicked back and forth in the water as Cassius held him firmly by his hair. He pulled him up again repeating his question.

“Yes, yes I’m Lupas!” He struggled to get the words out as he could hardly breathe.

“Good! Now that I have your attention listen to me closely: I’ve taken your sister.” Before Cassius could finish Lupus began to struggle again forcing Cassius to push him under once more.

Yanking him up again, Cassius continued, “If you’ve had enough I’ll finish. I have your sister, if you don’t do exactly what I say my men will kill her and throw her into the sewer. That’s not before they rape her till she can’t stand. You don’t want that, I don’t want that- so give me what I want and she will be returned to you safely and harmed.”

Lupas, still held by his hair and naked as the day he was born, spit in defiance. He was terrified, but he wasn’t a coward. “I don’t have a sister you inbred freedman!”

A sudden wave of shock and horror ran through Cassius. His mind raced to recount the intelligence his men had gathered for him; Intelligence that Ramirus has helped gather. He panicked, and without looking his defiant and frightened captive in the eyes, whipped out a small sicarius and sunk it into Lupas’s neck, silencing his frantic breaths.

Cassius was furious, panicked and beginning to feel emotionally upset. He only came to scare the man- to get him to drop his proposal for the Losto girl, as Ramirus ordered... and now he had killed a man. A man who probably had friends kind enough to wonder about his death. Without hesitating, Cassius fled with his guards, and dropped a hefty sack of coin for the bath operator.

=== Januarius, Rome ===

Ramirus stood next to his new bride while laughing at the humor of Marcus Tullio. He rubbed his beautiful wife on the back, and with great pride leaned toward her to whisper, “Are you alright, honey?”

She smiled, looking up to him at her side. “Of course husband, but this is still all very new to me.” She turned to face him, “Don’t worry it will pass.”

The two were new to each other but over the last few months had spent countless hours together becoming more familiar. Ramirus was proud of his bride and the face she put on in public, her ability to hide her nervousness and show a united front to all in attendance.

Marcus took a sip of wine then flung his arm around Ramirus. “Can I borrow your husband for a moment?”

Aenoria put her hands on her hips with a serious face. “Just married and your stealing him away already!” She giggled and smiled as Marcus nodded, “I’m just joking Marcus, take him- I have guests to speak to.”

The two walked off outside into the garden of the Flavus palace. “You yourself a beautiful wife my friend. May the gods bless you with many children.”

Ramirus hugged his childhood friend, “Thank you Marcus. You’ve been a good friend to me over the years. I owe you a lot.”

“Nah, more than I owe you so said my skin back in the east. I will never forget that. But speaking of the east when do we return?”

“My business here is almost done, so shortly, but I’d rather not talk about that on my wedding day, friend.” Ramirus grabbed the cup from Marcus and took a sip, about to speak again.

Just then his new wife came running into the garden, smiling widely. “Come quickly my husband! Emperor Vitellius has come.”

The three ran back into the house to see the emperor wearing an all white toga with purple and gold trims. Besides him walked his wife and three children, and they were surrounded by a host of praetorian guards all wearing white tunics unlike there customary purple ones. Calidus Raeus looked around, not only at the men and women that had gathered for this celebration, but at the palace itself. He couldn’t help but think of how for years Ramirus’s father, Gaius Sillius Flavus, had plotted his demise behind these very walls.

Titus Flavus, Ramirus’s uncle and the son of the late Pontifex Maximus Tacitus Julius Flavus, was the first to approach the emperor. “My lord, allow me to welcome you to my home. I can on….”

"I thought this was the home of Ramirus Flavus?” The emperor’s tone was kind, but disappointed..

“Well, it is and mine…” Titus was cut short as the emperor turned and walked away. Ramirus and Aenoria hurried to present themselves in front of the emperor. It was not often the emperor would attend events such as these. Aenoria immediately kneeled on both knees before the emperor and Ramirus bowed his head. “My lord, you honor us.”

“Rise, my dear,” Raeus detested standing on ceremony, and reached down, taking Aenoria’s hand helping her back to her feet. He examined the beautiful young girl, only sixteen years with enchanting blue eyes and excellent poses.

“Ramirus,” he exclaimed as the whole room had stopped and was now anticipating his next words.

“Sire,” Ramirus spoke as his heart beat faster unsure of what the emperor would say.

“My compliments,” Raeus cracked a thin smile then nodded a greeting as he pressed into the chamber to greet several senior Senators.

Visibly pleased, Aenoria grabbed her husbands hand and with a smile squeezed. “The emperor has come to our home on this our wedding day. I could not have a greater gift, my husband.”

Ramirus rubbed the side of her face before gently kissing his bride. “Well that’s not the only gift I have for you my honey. I have ordered enough bread to be handed out to feed all the poor of Rome to honor this day. Tomorrow in honor of our wedding my men will be handing out the free bread in the forum. All in Rome will smile as you have made me smile.”

Aenoria hugged her new husband tight and whispered in his ear, “I will bear you many sons, Ramirus, and your progeny will live for a thousand years!”

“I hate to interrupt you young master but there are a few matters that require your attention,” an eastern accent interrupted them. It was Yeddiah, a Jew that over the past year had become the left hand to Ramirus in all he had tried to accomplish.

“First there’s gift and a letter from former Emperor Daia, then your adopted brother Vibius Servo has arrived, and this man says his name is Maccius Flaccus Disius brother of Cicerio Disius..." Yeddiah stepped aside and revealed the man mentioned.

Ramirus nodded and stepped before the man. "Ave friend my man tells me you’re the brother of Cicero Disius. Where is he I pray he is on his way?”

"My sincere apologies, those odious Goths are stirring and he needed to stay behind to oversea his new duties." Flaccus was only twenty, and was star struck by the prestige that stood around him. "Cicero wishes that your marriage will be a voyage of pure joy and hoped I could attend this ceremony in his stead."
Ramirus extended his arms, "Then you are welcome, my house is yours. I was worried my letter hadn't gotten through to him. But I know the rigors of battle. I'll pray for his safe return to Rome."

Ramirus shook his head and turned extending his hand to his wife, "Where are my manners!" She gently took it and glided to his side. "This is my new wife Aenoria."

"Aenoria, on behalf of my family my best wishes." Flaccus smiled, taking her hand, and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Dear Ramirus you have snatched quite a rose, the lovely children you will make!" he said with a wry smile. “In all honesty you look like a lovely couple."

Flaccus took Ramirus off to the side. "I also wanted to tell you that you have our condolences with regard to the matter of you grandfather."

Ramirus dropped his head, "Yes. I mourn him still, thank you. I hope in the future I will be able to count you and your brother as my friends and allies?"

"Absolutely in so far as our interests do not conflict with yours, in all other matters we will do our utmost for you," Flaccus took on a serious tone. "My brother was irrevocably changed after Persia, he loves those who serve, and as man who stood against those damn Persians the respect is even deeper... And as Paterfamilias I am at his command"

Ramirus smiled, “Well then my friend, eat, drink and enjoy your self. You may stay as long as you like and anything you need just ask one of the slaves.”


Written By: Sillius Ramirus Flavus, Calidus Raeus Vitellius

Edited By: Ferus Juventas
133 AD
Tue, 24 Jun 2008 23:28:42 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11356 === Phoenicia, 133 AD ===

Titus pushed away the pile of documents, eased back his chair and stood. He stretched to ease the slight throb from his back. He looked back down at the desk covered in official documents. It was at times like this that he wished he was back in the field. He walked across to the door of his office and opened it. The two legionnaires outside snapped to attention as Titus stepped out. He waved them back to the ease as he stepped out into the sun light. He could feel the heat from the sun despite the fact it was still early. He walked across to the duty centurion’s office. He entered. The centurion hurriedly stood.

“Sit back down Centurion Pulcher.” Titus walked over to the duty roster, picked it up and began to read. The centurion stood.

“Anything wrong sir?”

Titus smiled. “No centurion just taking time to adjust back to peacetime soldiering.”

The centurion smiled back. “I know what you mean sir. Never much good at this side of soldiering myself.”

Titus returned the duty roster to its proper place. “The new recruits should be arriving during today?”

“Yes sir two hundred of Rome’s finest; should be interesting to see what we get. Also sir, Tribune Veno will be setting out with the seventh cohort to relieve the outpost garrisons.”

Titus nodded. “When the recruits arrive let Centurion Hortensius give them his normal warm welcome.”

“Naturally sir.” The centurion grinned and then snapped off an inch perfect salute.

Titus returned the centurions salute, left the office and began to tour the fort. He looked around taking in the sights, sounds and smells that a peacetime fort produced. He was surprised that the sounds and smells were different from a camp during war. He passed the smithy and could feel the heat. Titus beckoned over a relaxing legionnaire. The legionnaire stood, marched over and snapped smartly to attention. Titus waved him to ease.

“How does anyone put up with that heat?”

The legionnaire shrugged. “Don’t know sir, he says he is used to it but me and the rest of the lads cannot see how sir.”

Titus smiled. “Well if he likes it best leave him to it, dismissed.”

The legionnaire saluted and returned to his spot in the shade. Titus continued his walk around the fort. Many legionnaires sprang to attention only for Titus to wave them back down. He approached the main gate and began to climb up to the watch tower. As he climbed a legionnaire leant over the parapet and shouted for the duty centurion.

“What is it?” asked Titus.

The legionnaire looked over, saw the legate and stiffened into attention. “Group of men approaching sir, looks like the new recruits.”

“Good, let them pass if they give the right password.”

“Sir!”

Titus continued the climb until he reached the platform. As he reached the parapet he could feel the warm breeze. He looked out across the bare, open land and saw the group of men marching slowly toward the fort. He looked around at the sentries but each stood in a posture of alertness. He grinned and climbed back down to the ground. He returned to his office leaving the greeting of the new arrivals to normal military protocol.

Sitting back down at his desk he pulled towards himself the next tablet of information for his attention. He quickly read the tablet. The tablet was a list of camp expenditure for the last month. Nothing unusual he thought as he signed the official document. Once signed he placed the tablet on the completed pile which would then enter the great and all consuming entity that was the Roman Military Administration. He smiled at that, the Roman Military Administration was a large organisation that refused to allow even war with Persia to deflect anyone from filling out the normal forms and requisitions.

“Maybe we should have given the Persians all this documentation to fight rather than our legions.” Titus laughed as he spoke out loud.

He pulled the next official tablet towards himself. He began to read. It was the release order for one of his legionnaires who had completed his military service. The document contained everything need by the legionnaire to return to Rome. Titus signed the form and placed it by itself ready to be handed to the signifie responsible for his century. He took the next document; it was a request for extra patrols to the north of Phoenicia. He signed the form authorising the increase in patrol activity. As he pulled over the next document there came a knock at his door.

“Enter.”

The door entered and the duty centurion entered. “Sorry to trouble you sir but this letter arrived with the new recruits.”

Titus took the letter and through the open door could here Centurion Hortensius screaming at the new recruits. “…get into step you bunch of useless…” He looked up.

“Seems that Centurion Hortensius is starting to go soft on the new recruits. That is only five references to their mothers and goats in the first sentence.”

Centurion Pulcher grinned. “Yes sir he does seem out of sorts today- must be the heat.”

“Carry on centurion.”

Centurion Pulcher stood to attention and, as usual, snapped off an inch perfect salute. Titus returned the salute. He picked up the letter recognising the writing instantly. With a quick rib he pulled open the wax seal and began to read the letter from his wife. He devoured each word as if Maria was speaking them to him. He sighed, put down the letter and looked to the ceiling wishing Maria was here. Titus returned to the letter. Julia and Antonius were doing well, both missed their father. He sighed again missing his children nearly as much as he missed Maria. He put the letter down to finish in the privacy of his private quarters. He stood and left the office heading for the parade ground.

“STAND STILL YOU BUNCH OF USELESS IDIOTS!”

Titus smiled to himself as he heard Centurion Hortensius bawling out the new recruits. He stopped at the edge of the parade ground and watched as Hortensius walked around the group standing at attention. Without apparently seeing Titus he yelled an order.

“Legate on parade, give salute.” With that Hortensius turned and gave Titus the perfect salute. Titus returned the salute and watched amused as the recruits tried to repeat the salute but most failed. Hortensius instantly whipped round and bawled them out.

“Call that a salute I have seen better salutes from our pack mules. You lot are the most useless bunch I have ever seen. By the Gods the Persians must be really quacking in their boots at you lot I DO NOT THINK!”

One or two looked down embarrassed. Centurion Hortensius strode angrily over to them. Each recruit that had looked down received a quick blow from the centurion’s vine stave.

“You do not move whilst standing at attention. Each of you will be doing extra duty.”

“Carry on centurion.” Hortensius turned to Titus and saluted. Titus returned the salute and walked away. He could hear Hortensius continue to barrack the new recruits.


Written By: Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus

Edited By: Ferus Juventas
133 AD

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 19:59:41 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11354 === Day 1, Quintilis 132 AD ===

The cold flakes of frost crunched beneath Tribune Verius Tacitus Castus’s footstep as he trod his way through the camp of Legio I Gallicana in the early hours of the morning. Tacitus had emerged from his tent to the make his way to where his horse was tethered as today he would be acting on the orders Proconsular Legate Augustus Tiberius Varro had given him last night. Tacitus’s mind ran once again over the words Proconsular Legate Varro had spoken to him in the sanctity of the young general’s tent in the camp center of Legio VIII Gemina Macedonica.

‘Tacitus, the Goths have broken their borders and expanded forth. They’ve seized the Quadi land north of the river. I'm taking a detachment up North and into Gothic lands to speak with King Theodoric. I’m hopeful we can avoid conflict but we need to make provisions in case it is inevitable. I’m entrusting you with two cohorts of legionaries and two centuries of light cavalry, we need to rebuild the bridge across the Danube into the Quadi region. Can you do this?’

Tacitus’s response had of course been positive. The general may be young but he was a solid man of good nature, his rise to power may have been abrupt but there was certainly a reason for it. This man knew how to command, he respected his men and if he wanted something done, Tacitus was going to see it through.

The horse’s hide shuddered as Tacitus placed his hand on it’s shoulder. One of the legionaries tasked with maintaining the animals had already saddled Tacitus’s horse in preparation for the day. Tacitus allowed himself a smile at the efficiency of the men; they may be soldiers but they were the damn fine soldiers and the best men for the job at hand. Cupping his hand he held a palm full of grass he’d torn up on the way to the animal. Hilario, as he called his regular steed, munched the grass up from Tacitus’s cold hand, the beasts muzzle warming the seasoned fingers of the officer.

Tacitus pulled at the knot securing the animal to the post driven into the ground, as he pulled the rope free of the post he wrapped it around his hand. Tacitus turned from the animal, hearing someone pass behind him.

“Ah! Centurion!” he called on sighting. It was a centurion from one of the cohorts he had chosen to take with him “Round up your men on orders from Proconsular Legate Tiberius Varro and send word to IV Cohort, you are to assemble at camp centre by the time the sun has risen above that mountain,” gesturing to the east where the first sliver of the sun could be seen sneaking up over the eastern ranges.

The Centurion saluted before marching off to the closest line of line of tents with the intention of banging the hide of the tent and shouting at the Contubernium inside to get out and form up. Tacitus allowed himself another smile at the thought of the legionaries making it into formation by the time the sun was up. He already knew they’d be there before the sun was even halfway over the mountain.
Turning back to Hilario his thoughts wandered to the young Adiuvator who had recently joined the legion. Romulus Tiberius Maxus was fresh to the military and awaiting an officer’s commission. He was a fine young lad probably already fit for advancement. Tacitus judged from previous encounters with the young man both inside and outside of the army. ‘Give him a chance to prove himself,’ Tacitus thought. Looking Hilario in the eye he spoke to the animal “Come on boy, lets go get ourselves some help,” with that Tacitus mounted Hilario and trotted off in the direction of Adiuvator Tiberius Maxus’s tent.

=== Later that Day ===

Tacitus stood on the bank of the river watching the flowing water of the river Danube. ‘How strange it is’ he thought to himself ‘How strange that something so simple and un-impressive can mark the border of the most powerful empire in all the land’. He turned from his thoughts to observe the men hard at work preparing the site for the bridge. Men on both sides of the river were digging at the ground preparing holes for supports to be sunk into while the dull thunk of metal on wood echoed from across the tribal side of the river. The legionaries were clearing the trees from the northern end of the bridge and piling them outside the recently re-occupied roman fort in Quadi land. This wood would be used for lighting fires to dry out the wood coming from the forest upstream under the charge of Tiberius Maxus, Tacitus wasn’t expecting the wood for a few hours yet but he began the preparations for the bridge regardless.

Men Tacitus had sent out earlier were beginning to return from the local riverside villages with boats they’d secured to assist in the construction of the bridge while the lookouts posted in the watchtowers both up and down the river reported no signs of tribal activity. ‘Good’ Tacitus had been wary in regards to protecting his men from possible tribal attack, while usually being in Quadi land wouldn’t be cause for much fear the presence of Goths in the region had made him uneasy. No man was to go off alone for any reason and the instant anything was sighted orders were given to fall back to the fort on either side of the river

‘WOOD!’ came the cry from across the river. Tacitus looked upstream to see a number of logs tied together floating towards them. Two men dressed in the uniform of legionaries stood on top of the logs guiding their path down the river with long poles. Tacitus was genuinely surprised, Maxus obviously deserved credit for his efforts as even Tacitus himself would have been hard pressed to have the logging operation underway so soon. Tacitus thought himself lucky to have such men under his command. Men that didn’t know the meaning of failure. He smiled as he turned and began to stride up the bank to the approaching men on the logs. With men like these, how could one fail.
=== The Same Day ===

Adiuvator Romulus Tiberius Maxus allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he viewed the progress being made by his men as another tree fell. The young roman had been given three centuries of soldiers and a century of light cavalry with orders to acquire enough wood from this forest to build a bridge fifteen meters long and wide enough for seven men to walk abreast with enough left over for the construction of defences. He had marched his men to the forest in the early hours of the morning and had ordered for thirty of the largest and toughest trees to be cut down and sent down the river to the build site, hoping to be finished by early afternoon.

The dull sound of axes on wood and the rasping of saws filled his ears as he moved about his men offering encouragement and praise to the soldiers as they carried out their assigned tasks. While most of the men were busy cutting down trees he had assigned the light cavalry the task of transporting the trees to the river where the soldiers most proficient in tying knots lashed the trees together in groups of four. Once securely tied together the logs were drifted downstream with two soldiers armed with long poles for steering on top. When the logs reached the build site, three miles downstream, a mooring line would be thrown to men waiting on the river which would be secured to a tree stump.

Tiberius made his way over to the shore, pausing now and then to lend his strength to whatever task could be aided by his assistance for when there was work to be done; Tiberius was not a man to hide behind his rank. Reaching the banks he walked up to the old Centurion who stiffened.

“The fifth lot just went on its way and the sixth is about to set off, Sir.” He reported.

“Very good, Centurion,” nodded Tiberius causing the old soldier’s chest to swell with pride.

Throughout the day the Adiuvator moved through his men and consulted with the Centurions. He spent time getting to know his men and put in great effort to learn their names for he was new to the legion. The soldiers, at first, treated him warily as if unsure of what to expect from this new man, however as the day wore on they began to respect his opinions and accept his leadership for it was sound. For one so young he seemed unusually confident and sure of himself. His face was grave and looked as though it should belong to man more advanced in years and his deep blue eyes seemed to conceal much grief and also hinted at experience beyond that expected from a man of twenty.

Tiberius knew that this day was the first test of his leadership and that passing was vital if was to gain them men’s respect. He rose to the challenge with relish having been waiting for a chance to prove himself. Finally, when all the wood had been gathered and sent downstream and when he had confirmed that all his soldiers were present, he ordered the men to start their march back to the site where the bridge would be built. Tiberius marched with the men at the front of the column, discussing the day’s achievements with the men and wondering if his father would have been proud.=== Day 4 ===
Adiuvator Tiberius Maxus wiped the sweat from his brow as he stretched and watched the progress being made around him. His thoughts turned to his discussion with Tribune Verius Tacitus Castus the previous night.
“You work well with the men I've heard, those from the logging site sing your praises, ‘a confident young general’ they call you, did you know that?” He paused, “Do you think you could handle building a bridge Tiberius?” Tacitus asked.

Tiberius appraised the question, “I could”, he stated simply.

“Good,” Tacitus looked Tiberius straight in the eye, “then you now have the four hundred and eighty men of V Cohort at your disposal. All the tools you need are in the fort on the Quadi side of the river and my men brought back boats yesterday which you can use. The remaining men shall be with me building defences on the tribal side.”

He reflected that all those lessons under his teachers’ hard canes had paid off. He had immediately thrown himself into the task, ever eager to work for the betterment of the Empire. His plan was to build the bridge in two stages. The first would involve the river being diverted down one side of the riverbed while foundations were dug out and the supports driven in. The bridge would be constructed on this first side before the process was repeated for the other. In the meantime a temporary bridge of small boats allowed workers to move from one shore to the other.
The carpenters and the architect had calculated that to span the gap he would need fourteen supports, ten meters long and reasonably thick. The planks would be cut from the trees he had gathered the other day, as would the railings. Tiberius had given orders for the majority of men to help divert the river by gathering shoveled dirt and those rocks that could be found into Hessian sacks, stitching them together and piling them by the river. Some were building a large wooden frame to help put the sandbags in place while others were assisting the carpenters in preparing the bridge’s various pieces for construction.
Tiberius was sure that the Goths would not appreciate a bridge being made into their territory so he had some light cavalry patrol the area beyond the build site so as not to be caught off guard. He harboured a seething dislike for all the barbarian tribes to the north, especially the Germans. ‘If it wasn’t for the German tribes, his family would still be alive,’ he thought savagely. He picked up a shovel and threw himself into the physical labour of filling sandbags, trying to drive away the memory-smell of burning flesh and the sound of cruel laughter.

=== Day 5 ===

Work was progressing nicely. Tacitus was standing upon a pile of logs outside the fort on the tribal side of the river observing the roman build site. Tacitus’s men were coming along nicely building the defences he had planned around the bridge head. Slanted log barriers separated with smaller sharpened logs arced around the northern end of the bridge acting as a permanent defence location while work was beginning on a heavy log gate at the mouth of the bridge that was sealable from the roman side of the river if need be. A small shelter was also taking shape next to the gate for the watch guards who would man the bridge day and night to protect the empire from incursion by those who would do her harm.

Tacitus looked past the defences his own men were building and on to the men he had delegated to Tiberius Maxus hard at work constructing the bridge across the river. Men were both on land and in boats working on the bridge with the wooden frames now being lowered into the river in an attempt to divert its flow so that the supports recently crafted by Maxus’s men could be forced into the river bed.

A smile spread across Tacitus’s face, the ‘young general’ as the men called him was developing his standing rapidly with those he worked with. He was young and not even an officer yet, but Tacitus knew he would make a fine one and the men would listen to him.

‘A young general’ Tacitus chuckled before stepping off the logs and heading off to lend assistance to his men working on the gate.

=== Day 14 ===

The legionnaire took a step forward onto the wood but hesitated.

‘It’s creaking!’ he called back to the amassed legionaries visibly shaking. A few chuckled at his expense but they were uncomfortable chuckles, they were eager to find out if their hard work had paid off, not to see if it killed a man.

The legionnaire took another step forward and stopped. The rest of the legion started shouting words of support to him trying to edge him on. These men, the soldiers of the empire are fearless warriors on the battlefield but when faced with such an undignified death as that of drowning they would begin to falter.

Tacitus stepped forward from his place at the front of the assembled men on the roman side of the river. He strode across to the foot of the bridge and stopped a mere two metres behind the man on the bridge. Taking a deep breath Tacitus took a step out on to the bridge followed by another and then another until he was standing beside the petrified legionnaire. Tacitus looked at the man’s pale face and could see beads of sweat sliding down his forehead.

“Come brother, if you are to die I shall do it with you.” Tacitus took another few careful steps across the bridge testing the wood to ensure it would hold his weight and -thunk- -thunk-, the legionnaire was beside him looking slightly more hardy. The men who had gone silent began to cheer again and in step Tacitus and the lone legionnaire began to march across the bridge.


Written By: Verius Tacitus Castus and Romulus Tiberius Maxus

Edited By: Ferus Juventas
133 AD
Sun, 22 Jun 2008 19:30:52 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11351 *I apologize for the massive post-date of this scenario. Great job guys!*

===Rome, Junius 132AD, Palatium Raeus Vitellius===

Raeus turned from pruning a tree when he heard Proconsular Legate Decius Lucius Verus announced by a slave. He put the clippers down on a tray held by another slave and dismissed her. "Welcome Lucius, I trust you made it through the city without trouble?"

Lucius walked in, dressed in the simple red tunica that was usually part of his uniform. He stood at full attention and immediately saluted Raeus. "Ave Imperator," he said, before he started grinning. "Yes, I found it somewhat easier to enter the city than I thought it would be only months ago."

Raeus saluted back, and with a grin hoped he could continue the relaxed feeling light gardening gave him. "Lucius, as men, and brothers under the Roman standard, do not mince words with me during our talks. What we have to say here today is weighty and necessary, and all eyes and ears are piqued for the outcome."

Lucius cleared his throat and straightened up, folding his hands behind his back. "As you say Imperator."

"That I am, your new Imperator. Decius Daia has been, though it appears willing, forced from his position of power." Raeus nodded to a curious slave who on his own procured refreshments, and with the nod proceeded to offer some to Lucius. Raeus continued. "I believe this was your key tenet for peace, was it not?"

Lucius accepted a cup of water from the slave and gave a slight smile before he took a sip. "It was not my demand, sir. It was that of my men. But yes, I believe the removal of Daia has been for the best of the Empire. I only wish that he had been denied any political influence in the future." Lucius frowned slightly as he glanced down in his cup for a second before he looked back up at Raeus. "I fear he might become a threat in the future."

Raeus tilted his head to the side slightly, and his lips smacked as he spoke again, trying not to smile. "Daia is and always will be a menace, but we both understand there were two sides to this solution. Daia will be set up in Africa, and in Africa I understand he has little friends. I agreed not to harm him personally, of course, just as I agreed not to harm you."

Raeus paused and waved off the slave with refreshments. "You as a man have convictions a righteous man should envy, but even in that goodness your acts still need to be punished. You've agreed numerous times before to obey my command when I became your ultimate commander- and here I stand, as your Imperator."

Lucius nodded as he gave a slight smile once more. "Indeed Imperator. And just as I was last time we spoke, I am willing to accept whatever judgment you pass on me for my actions." He took another sip of water and then winced slightly, almost as if he'd desired the contents of the cup were a bit stronger, before he straightened his back and seemed to turn serious. "I did what I thought was necessary. Just as when you marched with Divus Persicus against Julius Flavus. I do not regret my actions. I regret that they were necessary. Therefore I will accept whatever consequences come of them."

The wind blew suddenly around them both, causing the stubble on Raeus's face to tense up. He rubbed his chin with his right hand to remedy the itchy feeling as he thought over what he was about to say. "I admit your honor, however distorted others interpret it, gives me solace. My judgement is this: A festival to the goddess Minerva, here in Rome and in Hadria, Gaul, from your own purse- or the purse of your men, if you see fit, requiring no fewer than 250,000 Denarii." Raeus raised his right hand as if to halt Lucius, who had yet to reply. "This brings me to another issue...."

"Flavius Iudicius and enough men to plunder a region destroyed the Consular Legion I Minerva, and regardless of their attack on your supply lines in a time of war, it was without warrant or necessity. I want- as do other notable men who worked hard to secure peace- him held accountable with his life, as well as all subordinates who had a hand in the destruction of innocent Roman citizens. This is an order as well, but I am not unreasonable- Make this happen before the Ides of July and I will forgive the festival in Hadria, for his head at the festival in Rome."

Lucius shifted his position uncomfortably. He considered Flavius a friend. "If that is your order, Imperator," he said, nodding before he looked up at Raeus again. "But I feel I should warn you... Flavius Iudicius holds some popularity with the Northern Army. Simply killing him will not win you much popularity, which I think would be important at this time." Lucius paused a bit and took in a deep breath. "I think it may be more prudent to have him arrested and afford him a trial. Otherwise, the Northern Army might feel that one of its leaders is once again unjustly targeted and killed. Given that I would have carried out the order, I doubt I would be able control them."

"Then a trial it will be." Raeus didn't grin. It was uncomfortable business, dealing punishment. "I will leave it to you to hand pick the men under him, perhaps the other Legates or Tribunes, to join him in trial. Still by the ides of July. I understand it could be hard to come by enough cash to fund the festival to Minerva- so I will give you until the Kalens of Septembris to prepare."

Lucius smiled slightly. "I alone bear the responsibility of the decision to march on Rome. Not my men. My estate will finance the festival. I believe I can have the amount prepared and made ready by the end of the month."

"Very well." Raeus said, smiling tenuously. Clouds broke above them with the breeze and sunlight graced them with it's sudden warmth. A sign from the gods? Raeus took a few steps to his left and picked up a caterpillar and, turning back toward Lucius, let it crawl over his hand. "The test I feel, Lucius will be cooperating with the Pontifex of Minerva- Carus Florianus Julianus. I will let him know of my judgement for you. Then, we need to speak of what next in terms of career duty. Before we change topic- I need to hear you agree to the judgement iIve just laid out."

Lucius frowned, looking slightly confused. "I thought I just did, Imperator? Regardless, I shall gladly finance the festival to Minerva, as well as make arrangements for the arrest of Flavius Iudicius." Lucius finished the cup of water and allowed his eye to browse around Raeus' garden. For a second, he wondered whether that would be something that could keep him occupied as well, but he quickly dismissed the idea as foolishness. "In short, sir, I fully accept any and all terms that you have given, as I would have done had they been different. You are the Imperator. I am your soldier."

Raeus sighed inside, hoping Lucius's honor would hold out- and it had. "Excellent news then. I would like to see you, once you return with Flavius Iudicius and the rest, sit in the Senate for as little as a few weeks, but ideally for a few months. I've entertained the idea of you as Consul, but before I make it a reality I want to see you mend bridges, should they be broken, and show me that you can indeed lead without arms. I have no expectations- this is not an order, just a request."

Lucius moved a bit uncomfortably. This was the moment when he would have to keep his promise to Vaeya. To go against his nature. For a second, he wanted to denounce it, but the feeling passed as quickly as it came. In the end he had little choice. He had vowed to do his best and so he would. He straightened up once again and seemed to regain much of his confidence. "As you wish, Imperator. I shall do my best not to disappoint you."

Raeus laughed, noting the obvious discomfort in Lucius. He put the caterpillar on a nearby limb. "Lucius- I understand. Our traditions and way of life dictates that politics and military must mix, as it always has since the days of warlords and kings- but I understand how some men just aren't capable of the intrigue and backdoor dealing of the Senate. I won't be too disappointed if you are too much of a sword-man to stay, but I hope, between yourself, Julius Vitellius and Florianus Julianus, that the Senate will become a body focused on progress instead of lazy and impractical politics. Bring Vaeya down if you like, being a niece of Divus Persicus I am sure you could find lodging with her uncle H. Augustus."

Lucius nodded slightly. "For a woman of her station, I think it would only be proper if we found our own place. Possibly some place on the Palatine. Sadly, most of the time I have spent in Rome has been spent in the subura and I know little of purchasing real estate." He grinned slightly. "I hope I can enlist her uncle's help in finding a villa that would be appropriate for her and her..." Lucius paused, biting his lip slightly embarassed at his slip of the tongue. "...our children."

Raeus slipped a smile, "Congratulations. I will broach the subject of real estate with Augustus while you are acquiring Iudicius, if you don't object. One more thing though, before I forget and decide to dine with you: Your legions need to return north. With or without their Legates. I will accept northern Gaul, or Germania and- Lucius, this is important and it pains me to think it might not occur- I despise private legions. I see no honest and defensible reason to keep them about. If you have legions that were once private to Iovinianus- which I know exist- do away with them."

Lucius nodded slightly uncomfortable. "There were private legions under Iovinianus. You may know some of them as they fought in the Gothic War. Many of them have fought for Rome. I fear simply disbanding them will turn them to banditry or worse. Or they might simply reform. They could join with rebel or insurgent forces in or around Gothia. Should you wish to disband them, sir, I think it might be prudent to award them citizenships for their service." Lucius paused, looking thoughtful as if he was thinking the matter over. "There are three private legions under my charge. I would award citizenship to the two of them, the III Iunia Gothicorum and the II Ioviniana Lupae Barbaricorum. They have fought victoriously for Rome on the field of battle and shed blood for her just as any legionary. The IV Britannicorum is another matter..."

"I will not award citizenship to those, if any, that partook in the massacre of Legion I Minerva." Raeus stated. "However, I will think on your suggestions in general. Move all legions out of Italia, and we'll talk again when I see you on the Kalens."

Lucius nodded and saluted once again. "It shall be done, Imperator."


===Northern Latium, Junius 132AD, Camp of the Northern Army===

Flavius Iudicius stood up in the tent that had only just been appeared for him upon his arrival, in order to salute his commander, as Lucius Verus entered his presence fresh from his meeting with Raeus Vitellius. "Salve Proconsular, what is the word?"

Lucius stopped immediately in front of Flavius with a solemn expression that did not suit him well. "I have good news and bad news," he said, pausing as he bit his lower lip. "The good news is that the Northern Army is being let off with a fine of 250,000 sestercii. I will bear the full full costs of the fine myself..." Lucius paused once more, growing seemingly uncomfortable.

Flavius raised an eyebrow of surprise but seemed pleased. "Well sir, if you wish I am sure the other senior officers along with myself would be more than willing to assist in spreading around the cost...what's the bad news?" he asked with some caution looking at the expression on his commander's face.

"I thank you, but that won't be necessary. My estate can bear the cost. As the commanding officer, the responsibility is mine." Lucius then looked up to look Flavius straight in the eye. "Which makes this all the more difficult. I have been ordered by Honestus to arrest you as well as the other officers responsible for the annihilation of the I Minerva." Lucius took in a deep breath. "At first, he wanted me to kill you outright, but I easily managed to persuade him to afford you a full trial in accordance with tradition. The last thing he wants is to be seen as another Decius Daia."

Flavius' expression grew from shock to coldness. He was obviously upset. "That legion attacked and nearly destroyed two of our auxilia units after a peace had been declared. They deserved what they got and now we're on trial for the actions of that legion as well as because they followed the wretch Tetricus?"

Lucius nodded slowly, still visibly uncomfortable with the situation. "Yes. I do not like it either, but there you have it. If you ask me, the Minerva deserved what they got. They sided with a traitor. They were the aggressor." Lucius paused briefly, taking in a deep breath. "However, legally we had reached a peace accord and the senate are up in arms about the matter. Honestus needs the senate if he is to build himself a position of power from which he can go after Daia and potentially Terpus as well, and so he needs to take action. Politics" Lucius let out a heavy sigh. He had let out the last word with a sneer, which indicated his distaste for the term.

"From what I hear the people are none too happy either. An angry mob tried to kill your brother. Luckily he managed to escape."

"Pfft. From all accounts that's because the mob is stupid. If they anything they would know my brother would be the first in line demanding my head for my actions and denouncing me." He shook his head. "The Senate... I'll never understand why men like Gothicus or Honestus would even attempt to cater to them. So... you've come to arrest me then as well as the other loyal men here?" He shook his head. "I can see it now sir... we come into Rome and never come back out. That is before a trial, if we even get one, ever starts!" He shot back with some anger.

Lucius smiled slightly, unexpectedly, at Flavius' outburst. "Flavius, I consider you a friend. I trust you. You have to trust me." Lucius crossed his arms as a sly smirk spread across his lips. "Your men look up to you. And for good reason. Honestus isn't stupid. The last thing he wants is to turn you into another Iovinianus. Which I have stressed with him could happen if he kills you." Lucius paused, still looking Flavius straight in the eye. "But he needs to do something. Otherwise he'll be seen as a weak ruler and his power will subverted from the very beginning. I promise you, Flavius, that I will make sure your trial is fair and conducted according to tradition. The most likely outcome, and the outcome I intend to work towards, is exile. Preferably in Britannia. You know the men there already. Once you get there, you can establish a position of command and who knows? Perhaps we will meet there in the future?." Lucius' eye flared for a second and he seemed to take on a sudden ominous quality. "Rest assured, Flavius, that I have not forgotten. Tetricus and Daia will meet their fates. Same as the Minerva."

Flavius was very upset and stood for a moment. He had to pace. He wanted to just cut and run but... he knew he'd @!#$ over Lucius and he had already told him he would be the fall man for things in this campaign. Honestly, if it wasn't for Flaviana, he'd glady walk to his execution. After a moment of calming down he looked back at Lucius. "Just me... not the others. They aren't citizens and they'd be executed on the spot I'm quite sure. Besides, they were following my orders...I'll go... for you... and for Flaviana..." he said quietly. He gave a slight smirk, "At least I get to see my little brother, the foolish brat he is." he commented in a slightly happy, slightly sarcastic manner. "And I agree... I'd rather take exile. Hell I'd do it now." he shook his head in some anger. "If that @!#$ Tetricus can just do it and the Senate not care why not me?" He shook his head again and paced a bit but seemed to have said his peace for the moment.

Lucius nodded, never taking his eye off Flavius. "I'm not sure I can leave the others behind. Honestus was quite clear that he wanted more than you. He even mentioned going as far as far down as Tribunes, but I have no desire to do that, and think that the legates of all four legions involved will prove more than enough." Lucius sighed. "They are not Roman, no, and you are right that that puts them at greater risk. I can only promise that I will do what I can for them, even if I have to act as their defence. If we can press the matter that they were only following the orders of their Roman commanders, as they have done in every campaign they have faced, I think there is a chance they can be spared."

Flavius looked at him very seriously and in a low voice said, "You and I both know, that for those prattling assholes in the Senate, it won't be enough unless they are killed. A show of force and power and that they are in charge. And for Honestus to show them he means to make amends and bring them together." He sat down rather abruptly and sighed, "I can't believe all this has come to this @!#$."

"By the gods why did that fool have to go to Rome..." he said quietly about Iovinianus. "He wanted to pander to the Senate a little... and now. We're doing it again. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice... I'll kill you and gut your children..." He stated in a low voice, just audible for Lucius to hear.

Lucius seemed to grow thoughtful for a second, as if he suddenly thought of something. "That reminds me..." he said, looking back to the Roman legionary standing immediately behind him. The legionary immediately reached in under his sagum, pulled out a document and handed it to Lucius who in turn handed it to Flavius. "This was written by Iovinianus before his death. It confirms our suspicions that he was murdered, but there is more..."

Flavius read the letter and sighed, chuckling just a little as well. "You know, of all the men I have ever had the pleasure and honor to serve with. He was the most unpredictable and the one who you never knew if he was joking or if he was serious." He put the letter down. "It still doesn't change the current situation. Nor that I think the Senate will act harshly and execute those loyal men who had, up until Minerva, served with honor and loyalty to Rome and her state. It was them at the forefront in Gothia, Germania Magna and Britannia..."

"No, you are right, it does not." Lucius sighed. "But Iovinianus believed in Honestus as well. Just as I do. Rome is in need of strong leadership. Someone who can provide stability and assemble the loyalty of all the corners of the Empire. I will do what I can to see that through. That means I follow orders. Even if I do not agree with them or do not like them." Lucius sighed again. He looked a bit tired "You are correct. There is a good chance that our brothers may die. I do not wish to see that happen and I will do what I can to make sure it does not." He narrowed his eyes as he seemed to grow thoughtful before he finally looked up at Flavius again. "I am ordering the legions to march North. We will head back to Rome but leave the legates outside the city under supervision. I will not arrest them as of yet. When we return, I will do what I can to persuade Honestus to accept you as the sole captive. Is that fair?"

“That sounds fair” Flavius nodded. “We will come with you then.” Lucius nodded slowly, still seemingly uncomfortable with the situation. For a moment, Flavius seemed to grow uncomfortable as well. “There is one more thing… Tetricus… escaped once again helped by his friends. The fucking coward…” he sneered, his temper briefly flaring up again. He quickly calmed down again, however, when he looked at Lucius. “But as the coward he is, he left something behind. His family: A woman by the name of Caria Jaina Julianus, 2 young infants a boy and a girl, and a small girl. I took them into my custody and now hand them over to you, Proconsular.”

Lucius frowned. This was unexpected. He had already learned of Tetricus’ escape through his letter to the senate imposing self-exile. Perhaps the family could be used as a bargaining chip. Give him a choice. Turn himself in or see his lineage snuffed out. Lucius hesitated. Had Flavius said Caria Jaina Julianus? Was she related to Carus Florianus Julianus, the pontifex of Minerva, whom Lucius had met in Rome and taken an immediate liking to? The shared name of their father could not be a simple coincidence. And killing the sister of the pontifex of Minerva would be no more popular than killing the legion of Minerva. He let out a slight sigh and looked back up at Flavius. “Show the woman into my tent. I have to prepare the army to march back North. We leave for Rome in the morning.” With that, he turned around and headed out the tent towards his Praetorium. An ominous smile spread across his lips as he walked. He may not have gotten Tetricus Vitellius, but he had his family. Perhaps he would still get a chance to exact his sworn revenge upon his hated enemy here and now. After all, how better to destroy him than to destroy his lineage?

About an hour passed, during which Lucius went through the legionary rosters in preparation for the army’s move back North. Finally, he heard movement near the entrance and looked up from the documents on his table as Caria Jaina Julianus walked in. He rose politely and gave her a nod before he gestured for her to take a seat in the chair in front of the table. "Jaina of the Juliani, I am sorry to meet under such circumstances. I hope you have been treated well?"

The twenty-nine-year-old Jaina Julianus studied the man before her as she sat down and folded a leg over the other. He had a handsome, youthful face despite the ominous-looking scar, which marred the right side of his face. Somehow he did not look quite like the Lucius Verus she knew from the numerous rumours and especially from her husband. The uncouth and murderous barbarian. “The Wolf’s pup” as Tetricus mockingly called him. No, his manner seemed to carry the mark of military training and there was a certain sense of authority to him. She was beginning to understand why the Northern Army had so willingly followed him to Rome.

Jaina herself had a light complexion and a proportionate build. She resembled her younger brother Carus Valens Julianus more so than the famed Carus Florianus Julianus. Still, Lucius could see the family resemblance from his meeting with Florianus and became certain that they she was indeed his sister. She was really quite beautiful in her own way and seemed to carry herself with a quiet dignity. “I am quite well thank you, Proconsular Legate Verus.” She said, sitting up right as she remembered she was Valenii Juliani first a prisoner second

Lucius grinned widely as he leaned back into his chair. "I am in a somewhat awkward position. To be honest, I had expected to have your husband here in front of me and not you or your children so this is something of a...disappointment." His lips curled up into a mischievous smile. "Yet here you are and I am faced with the choice of what to do with you. Now, I am inclined to take you and the girls with me when I return to Rome and release you there. Perhaps into the custody of your brother." Lucius still sat smiling as he continued to watch her. "The boy however... is another matter."

"Are you threatening my son, mister Verus?" She asked firmly dropping his rank now. She was concerned yet it was still early and she was quite confident they could come to an arrangement yet. Lucius Verus had seemed so unlike his reputation that she could not bring herself to believe it was true. And if it was what chance did she have? What chance did her son have?

"Yes." Lucius said matter-of-factly. "I see no reason why we can't be honest with one another." He smiled slightly, before his look turned serious and slightly ominous. "The boy is a potential threat. Maybe not now, but he may be in the future. He has the blood of a traitor in his veins." Lucius paused as he watched her carefully. "Perhaps you can't see that, blinded by your maternal instincts, but I can."

“Do not confuse my dear Darius with my husband Tetricus and his daughter Tetrica. My son is of noble Valenii Juliani blood, his grandmother is of the Celtiberian Vaccaei noble bloodlines.” She stated, she placed her right hand behind her back as it began to shake; a family trait. “He is not some Gallic provincial inbred” Her voice was stern and fierce. The true mark of a woman of Patrician birth.

Lucius chuckled as he crossed his arms. "He is in part. He has the blood of Tetricus in him, just as he has yours." He paused and seemed to grow a bit thoughtful before he continued. "Perhaps your blood will win out. Perhaps he will be nothing like his father. But that is a risk, I am not sure I am willing to take."

She nodded, now was not the time for fits and rants, her child’s future depended on it. "So let me ask you, Lucius Verus. What would you do to a one-year-old boy? Would you kill him like Tetricus had Vallentius killed? Or would you throw him in some cold dungeon for the rest of his life? What kind of man are you Lucius Verus?" she asked, the tone of her voice once again strict and authorative.

"I would kill him." Lucius said, seemingly unaffected. "I am a man who does whatever he thinks is necessary. Sadly, killing children sometimes is." His voice seemed cold and distant and there was an ominous quality to it that suggested he spoke out of personal experience.

Jaina paused shaken by his response, but managed to compose herself and continued as a thought occurred to her. A way of salvation. "What if the boy was not Tetricus' but a bastard of a lover of mine?" She stated as she folded her arms.

Lucius looked at her, suddenly seeming very curious. "That could certainly change things. But how would I know whether you were simply lying to protect him?" His eye dwelled on her curiously as he waited for her response.

"You don't." Jaina replied. "But in admitting he is a bastard, it would negate any claim he had to the Sarian Vitelli holdings and any support he could ever garner from the Gauls. Yes, my reputation would be a petty sacrifice for my son’s life."

Lucius smiled. This was possibly the last thing he had expected. Her willingness to sacrifice to save her son fascinated him. "That is most noble of you." He paused, thinking. "But his blood would still be tainted." It came out harsher than he had intended and he immediately regretted it, but it had been said and could not be taken back.

"It seems that you fear the boy becoming a threat to you here in the west." Jaina said standing up from her seat. "There are so many arrangements we could make to spare him." She added as she undid the brooch that held her stola over her shoulders and let it drop slightly. Perhaps there was still some part of Lucius’ reputation that could be used to save her son. She had heard how fond he was of women. Perhaps that was her way out. If she had to prostitute herself to save her son, then so be it. "The east is very far away, what threat would he be to you, far off in Tyre or even with the Iustian legions in Syria."

Lucius grinned slightly and moved forward in his chair. "I don't fear him as a threat to me. I will likely be dead and gone by the time he comes of age." He let out a slight smirk. This conversation seemed to be going in an increasingly unexpected and interesting direction. Part of him felt that he should just end it here and let her have the boy, but curiosity and fascination were stronger and led him to continue. "I fear what he might do to Rome. Like his father."

"Oh please, Lucius be rational, no Valenii Juliani has ever lifted a sword against Rome." She said as she let her stola drop to the floor revealing herself to the commander of the Gothic legions. "Florianus Cappodocius, went east rather then fight an emperor, Darius Julianus, his namesake, killed himself when his legions pressed him to attack Rome..." As she spoke she walked his table, noticing his eye firmly rested on her figure. She brushed the papers away from the table and spun her legs across it, sitting down on the edge just in front of Lucius. She placed her pale white hand against his chest. "He will be raised a Juliani. He will be no threat to Rome."

Lucius smirked once again and gave cocky grin as he watched the naked woman in front of him. He could smell her scent. She was almost close enough to kiss. Part of him was sorely tempted to take advantage of the situation. She was rather beautiful. The white pallor of her skin was reminiscent to that of Gothic women and only served to enhance her beauty. It gave her a delicate and somewhat fragile look. The degree to which she would make sacrifices for her son continued to fascinate him. Would she really go to the distance? He felt pretty sure she would. Quite a woman, he thought to himself. How she had ever ended up in the hands of someone as vile as Tetricus Vitellius would forever be a mystery to him. She deserved better, which was also why he quickly managed to reject the idea of taking advantage of her. "Please. Dress yourself." he said, as he gently pushed her hand away. His eye remained locked to her gaze, rather than admiring her body. It took his full concentration to keep it there.

"Not without my son’s life, Lucius" She said closing her eyes. "If you are to kill him, I would take your sword and open my naked stomach here and now." Jaina said, as his tears began to form in the corner of her eye, her right hand still trembling. She knew her sacrifice would bring Florianus and Raeus on top of Lucius but such she was willing to do to save or at least avenge the boy.

Lucius gave a surprisingly gentle smile as he took her trembling hand. "That will not be necessary," he said, as he looked up at her. This was the first time he really noticed the blue-grey colour of her eyes. There was something strangely entrancing to it. "I will spare the boy provided that you declare him a bastard and promise to raise him as a Juliani."

She lost control and placed her arms around Lucius, embracing him. "Thank you, Lucius." Jaina said, she still hadn't thought through the repercussions of proclaiming Darius a bastard, but at least it seemed his life was saved. "Tetricus Darius Vitellius will be no more, he will be Darius Julianus" She cried joyfully.

Lucius remained passive as she embraced him until he gently pushed her away just far enough, so that he could look at her. He could still feel the temptations of lust gnawing at the back of his mind. Her skin was soft. How he longed to feel it against his own. Mark it with his touch. But he managed to keep it buried and looked at her with a surprising amount of concern. "Your family may decide to cut you off as a result of this. I hope you realise this. If they do, you come to me. I will help you in any way that I can. Whether you need money or a place to stay." He said, smiling the same gentle way as he did before.

As she walked back Jaina nodded picked up her stola from around her ankles and pulled the dress back up. "I understand." She said, as she wondered how her brothers would take the news, her father if still alive would have killed her, and perhaps her brothers would too, she wouldn't know till the news arrived. This would also make Darius' twin Jaina Daria Vitellia a bastard too by default, it was much to inflict on a sister for a brother's survival but they were both still infants they would not know what she had done for many years too come. "I should leave you now, Proconsular Legate Verus." She said placing the brooch back on her stola.

Lucius nodded as he watched her dress herself, the look of concern still evident on his face. "I thank you for your time Jaina of the Juliani. Would that we had met under better circumstances," he said with a slight smile. "But these are unfortunate times that we live in. I hope you will remember my offer. I will help you in any way that I can."

She nodded as she turned around to leave. Had she smiled at him or had it just been his imagination? Before he had a chance to decide, she was already gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He found his heart was pounding in his chest. Strange, he had not even noticed. Was he doing the right thing letting the young Darius live? With such a loving mother it was difficult to imagine that he would turn out to be anything like his father. Lucius had meant it when he had offered her his help. He could not help but feel responsible for her-- Especially if her family cut her off as a result of this. His thoughts slid away from the politics of the matter and simply dwelled on the woman instead. Simply thinking of her brought a smile to his face and a warm feeling of comfort. He could not remember feeling that way about a woman ever before. Fascinating…


Written By: Decius Lucius Verus with RP from Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Neos Dionysos (as Flavius Iudicius) and Carus Florianus Julianus (as Jaina)

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

133 AD
Sun, 22 Jun 2008 18:01:00 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11342 "Dear Consuls, Seantors, Aediles, citizens and our glorious Imperator Honestus. I write to you as a private citizen with no official post of any kind, as a simple man who wishes to express his views to nobler men.

My name is Vitellius Sarius Agrippa, however, my birth name is Marcus Paulus Agrippa... I changed it when I came of age to express that while I am very much an Agrippa, I will also not forsake my Sarian roots, being a great-grandchild of Emperor Sarius Vitellius. But unlike my predeccesors, I do not wish to enter public life and am content to work toward the betterment of my home community: Sicilia. And this is why I write to you.

I am sure there are many more men like myself, who wish to advance the interests of their immeadiate communities in conjunction with the advancement of this great and sacred Empire. And so, I wish to humbly ask the Senate if they may consider a proposal...

With our economy on the rise, and with the rise to our new found stability and in celebration in our new and most worthy Emperor, each of the core provinces of the Empire: Tuscia, Latium, Campania and Sicilia be given lump sums of money to advance the interested of these provinces. Say, 1.2 -1.5 million sesterce each, and with our budget in a surplus of over nine million, I would imagine this is very doable. Further, the local prefects would have charge of where to spend the money and on what, since they know more then any one else the needs of their provinces.

However, I am not a Senator and I do not sit in Rome, so my opinion may be poor due to a more firm understanding of our economy.

Should this be found to be unreasonable then I fully understand, and will not press this issue. But I think every citizen of Italia would agree that they would find this a very welcoming and refreshing act in light of the recent troubling times. I thank you for you consideration.

Signed; Vitellius Sarius Vitellius.

Palermo, Sicilia" Sun, 22 Jun 2008 00:27:48 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11335 I would like all the players who haven't yet added ALL the GM's to their ICQ to please do so.

It makes working admin easier for us, and make processing your character needs easier as well when we can contact you over ICQ, and vice versa.

I will remind the few who don't have ICQ again that you MUST have ICQ to play the game adequately.

If you are confused about where to find GM ICQ numbers, just scroll to the bottom of the Aventine list.

Thanks! Fri, 20 Jun 2008 02:00:26 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11329 ** the next day, another decree was announced in the name of Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus **

In honor of our long-eared animals, I decree the last day of the year to be Mule Appreciation Day! All state mules will be given the day off as a day of rest, with full feed rations, and all other owners are encouraged to do the same.

All market days until the end of the year will be tax free in honor of our sterile but hardworking friends.

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 01:51:19 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11328 ** A newreader mounted the rostra and announced the following decree from Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus **

In honor of our new Imperator, Calidus Raeus Vitellius Honestus, as well as to honor the gods, I decree three months of games be held!

A total of twelve weeks, the first week dedicated to peace throughout the Empire, ten weeks with one week dedicated to the each of the principal gods and goddesses who watch over our Empire, and the final week in honor of our new Imperator!

May these games be pleasing to Those who guard Rome and our Empire!




Thu, 19 Jun 2008 01:30:07 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11324 === Equestris, Hispania Province, late Quintillis ===

"Get me Telvitius Claviticus." Tacitus ordered Atticus, his secretary. The gray-haired man scuttled away as quickly as he could. He had been waiting days for Tacitus to hand down this order. He had informed Tacitus that the Gallic Propraetor was in Equestris along with the two remaining siblings of Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius only the day after he had been caught up on current events. Atticus was clever, and ambitious- and was compensated well for being the personal assistant he was.

Atticus left Tacitus alone in the study that was once his, and had since his disappearance been commandeered by his wife Vespa. The afternoon sun was peeking into the room just slightly as the dinner hour approached, putting the sun just above the western horizon- not the direction the office windows faced. Tacitus made a mental note to take a room that did face the setting sun, if he needed another one at all. He had been back only a few weeks and had found comfort in sharing his office- and his authority- with his Vespa.

Over the days after his return Tacitus was quick to learn of all the good things Vespa had accomplished, and his status quo she maintained. What surprised him the most, and cemented his decision to leave her as a co-authority over the region, was the endorsement of the Tacitii Disi from south east Iberia. Tacitus was blood related, albeit a few cousins removed, so he found support and cooperation with most things, but being the staunch traditionalists they were, it surprised Tacitus they could handle a woman acting as Proconsul for any length of time.

A few moments after Atticus had left the room, Tacitus walked behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. She had been off in her own world for the last few minutes and he needed her attention now, even though the letters she read were indeed important. He began to press his fingers into her shoulders firmly, and carefully. She immediately relaxed and let her head hang a bit lower as his fingers moved closer to her neck, just above her clavicle. He leaned in and smelled her hair, and then rested his head, left cheek down, on the top of her head and closed his eyes.

"What should I do about Telvitius." He asked in almost a whisper. His hands had since moved down the sides of Vespa's shoulders and he squeezed her upper arms as his hands moved down to her elbows. She shivered in a release of relaxation and pushed the work before her away, to just within an arms reach across the table. She leaned back, causing Tacitus to stand upright again, and then looked up into his eyes.

"Remind him of where he came from, and why he is where he is." She said, emotionless. Tacitus kept his eyes locked on her face, and then focused on her lips as she spoke. The sun peeking through the window danced across her lips like pixies in a Belgic forest. "He isn't a bad person, but he—"

"Shouldn't have encouraged Tetricus to take I Minerva, I agree." Tacitus said, grinning out of the right corner of his mouth. He petted Vespa's hair and then took a step back and found a seat just to the side of behind her. She turned to face him, and leaned back against the table. Tacitus admired her figure in the split seconds after he spoke, noting that she had grown wider in the hip during his absence, but retained her youthful waist and, unlike most women her age that he knew, the girlish tautness of her breasts. He told himself for the millionth time since marrying her that he was lucky.

He cracked his knuckles and then looked past her to the open doorway, as if nervously expecting Telvitius Claviticus that very moment. "You're right. I will remind him that yet again the Sarii Vitelli have let him down- fathers like sons, those idiots, and that we again will prop him up within the hierarchy of Rome."

"No, no, Tacitus." Vespa said. Her tone was strange, one he had rarely heard in his time with her. It was a 'wrong, listen to me' tone that was usually reserved for the kids- and since all were nearly grown it was uttered less and less. She didn't smile or pander to his masculine need to be in charge, and just continued. "He is common, plain as day. If I were you, which I very well almost was if the gods hadn't seen fit to return you to me, I would let him know that if he ever wants to survive this disgraceful act, he will support your every move."

"My moves?" Tacitus asked rhetorically, smiling. He understood what she meant: Every time the man was let down by a Sarius, or Lepidus or Tetricus it was the Tullian family that welcomed him in and maintained his position, and this time would be the last. "His plebeian lineage is of no consequence to how I feel right now, and you shouldn't pick at such thorny issues either."

Vespa's lips smacked as she opened them to speak, and then she just nodded. It was true- she shouldn't call another person's heritage into question when she herself was half Nervii; Being the eldest daughter of Divus Pompeius clouded that reality too often. "I know- I apologize, but regardless."

"Yes," Tacitus said, standing up with a smile. "Regardless."

=== At the same time, Rome ===

Lucius Cassius Vitellius tore open the sealed parchment in his hands. The letter had arrived just moments ago, and he had gathered his sister Augustina and their nephew Phillipus around to read with him the contents. It was sealed with the insignia of Tullius Quinus Vitellius, which only Lucius Tacitus wore. Cassius unfolded the sheet and read aloud.

The letter was short, but the point was clear: Lucius Tacitus Vitellius had been found, he was well and he was caught up on current events. Cassius was ecstatic, though his face was a bit fearful. Augustina wept at the news and held on to Phillipus, who just stood with a dumbfounded smile on his face; His father was alive after all! Augustina wiped the small tears from her cheeks and smiled, happy as ever, and looked at Cassius. He still looked worried, and clenched the letter tight.

“Cassius. Cassius!” She had to bring him back to reality. He blinked and looked at her. Her head shook a bit like her late Aunt Isadria as she asked, “What’s wrong? You should be happy he’s alive!”

“Oh I am!” He stated, his voice obviously joyous. His tone flattened though as he continued, “Only, this means he will inevitably return to the city and find fault with everything we’ve done. Big brother Tacitus is back.”

==== Back in Equestris, Hispania ===

About an hour later Telvitius Claviticus was shown into the room by Atticus, who looked incredibly pleased with himself. His smile was erased the moment Tacitus asked him to leave Telvitius alone in the room with himself and Vespa. The door closed slowly behind Atticus as he hoped to at least hear the starting words of what he hoped would be the harshest of greetings. Unfortunately for him Tacitus waited until the door shut before speaking.

Telvitius stood in front of the closed door and looked at Tacitus and Vespa, sitting together on a heavily cushioned sofa. Tacitus smiled and stood up. The had since stopped trying to fill the room with light and now the room was lit half by the waning daylight and half by oil lamps attached to the walls. It set a relaxed mood. Tacitus coughed unexpectedly before greeting Telvitius, and he laughed when it subsided.

“Haha, hello Telvitius. Have a seat, or a drink, or some nuts.”

“Thank you Tacitus,” the Gallic Propraetor said. He took a seat on a three-legged stool that was a few feet in front of the Proconsular couple and close enough to the large table in the room to lean against. “I am good for refreshments though, thank you. It is wonderful to see you! You look well for having been trapped in that... village.”

Tacitus hadn’t seen Telvitius yet, and in fact it had been years since the two saw each other last. It wasn’t hard to remember the cordial working relationship they had when in Rome. “Thank you, Telvitius- I appreciate that. It is good to see you too. How are you, since leaving Gaul?”

“I am well.” Telvitius said, realizing in Tacitus’s tone that this wasn’t just a friendly appointment. “I’ve been here a few months now, and Vespa has been more than helpful. I plan to return to Lugdunum soon, now that things in Rome have settl–“

“You do?” Tacitus asked, confronting Telvitius, who nodded in confirmation. Tacitus leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. It took a microsecond for that to become uncomfortable, so he stood instead and crossed his arms. Since he had lost the weight over the past eight months, he had become bonier- and leaning on himself wasn’t an option any more. He looked down onto Telvitius, but kept his friendly exterior. He didn’t want to threaten his old colleague, just... talk to him. “I hope you won’t rush off too soon.”

“Well...,” Telvitius started, then looked off to the side, releasing his eye contact. “Now that things are back to normal...”

Vespa laughed. “Things are hardly normal, Telvitius.”

“Indeed, darling.” Tacitus snapped. Vespa looked up at Tacitus to her right, and shut her mouth, content with her remark. He let a moment of silence come between what he said next as Telvitius grew to look confused. “I can’t help but feel confused about why you are even here, Telvitius.”

“I came when I realized Tetricus took Legio I Minerva.” He stated, confidently. “I, Lepidus Britannicus and Lepidus Actius all fled from the possible retribution.”

“I am to understand then,” Tacitus tightened his crossed arms, “that you had already estimated what would happen if Tetricus gained control of your consular legion? Don’t answer that.”

Telvitius looked even more confused, and sought a sign from Vespa with a pleading glance. She just shrugged in her seat, knowing Tacitus wanted her quiet. Tacitus continued. “That would mean you sent the legion to its death. That would mean, Telvitius, that you share the bla–“

“I did not come here to be questioned!” Telvitius shot to his feet. His confusion turned to tense frustration, an awkward mix of anger and uncertainty. His eyes darted between Vespa and Tacitus.

Tacitus continued, unfolding his right arm, using it for expression. “That was my intent. Let’s sandwich this, shall we? You are a very capable politician. You pander to the Sarian interests that continually create messes. You are a decent Propraetor.”

“Thank you.” Telvitius said, cocking an eyebrow. He was confused again. “But, I don’t see what this all has to do with anything.”

“You expected Tetricus to succeed and fighting Decius Lucius Verus?” Tacitus asked.

“No.”

“Then you let Tetricus take the legion knowing it would be destroyed?” Vespa finally cut in, standing up herself.

Telvitius hesitated. He was cornered, and he knew that yet again if he went back to Rome he’d have to crawl his way up the social hierarchy again. What was he to do? He suddenly felt anger, and release. “Yes. I did. There is no denying the sons of Sarius! Why not let him march to his death? It would have saved us all a heap of trouble!”

“Ugh, Telvitius!” Tacitus moaned, turning around and walking behind the table. Vespa smiled and reached out to Telvitius, who now looked sheepish and guilty. Vespa gripped his left shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Tacitus continued, “This is going to be a stain on your reputation, do you realize that? By cowering to a child-minded Consul you allowed a legion to be destroyed, citizens murdered- and! I bet you’re not surprised, Tetricus escaped!”

Telvitius hung his head for a second and then lifted it again, looking Tacitus in the eyes. “It was a smart move to try and cut off the rebel supply line.”

“I agree.” Tacitus said, playfully slamming his hand on the table. His tone was still serious despite his slight grin. “Except you just let some rabble rousing instigator do it. You let the man who caused this whole damned mess do it. He defiled my home and the sanctity of the Senate to arrest Iovinianus, sparking all that Rome just went through, and you let him take your legion.”

“Like I said, I–“

“It would have been great if he perished with the legion, I understand.” Tacitus said. “I’ll help you again, and none of this will come between you and your position in Rome. I want Britannicus and Actius though, Telvitius.”

“Okay.”

=== Rome, two weeks later ===

The sun of mid Sextillis beat down heavy and hot upon Proconsul Lucius Tacitus Vitellius and his century of Tullian Guard, led for the trip east to Rome by Carus Valens Julianus, brother to Legate Carus Florianus Julianus. They could see the gates of Rome looming before them as they marched along the Via Ostia. Despite the uncomfortable heat of the day, Tacitus held onto his anger and frustration over everything he missed. Each step he took closer to home sent another thought or opinion rushing through his brain, and he hoped that on this un-announced trip he would catch people off guard.

Ahead of them on the highway stood a dismounted group of Equites Floriana, flanking the road. As Tacitus and his group continued to march past them without paying any mind, a man’s voice shouted to them from the dismounted horsemen.

“Valens Julianus?”, the man said. Valens stopped short, and Tacitus and the guard kept going a few more paces before stopping themselves.

Valens looked confused, and looked the stranger up and down. “Florianus? If that is indeed you, you have become far too tan!”

"It’s me- Gallus Vergilius, from Equestris! Two insulae down from Granius Cumanus!", he said excitedly. "Your brother is here, though, down the road with the Praefectus Equitum and a Urban Cohort official trying to get us passes to enter the city and Tivoli."

"I remember you! You be damned, Florianus is much prettier than you! How could I forget!" Valens took his old friend's hand and shook vigorously. A deep cough from behind caused him to frown, realizing he needed to go. "I wish you luck with the Cohortes Urbanae old friend. Could you tell me where Florianus is staying then, so I may call him by your name instead?"

The young man pointed off down the road, thinking how Valens must have missed what he just said, where a pair of men stood by the side of the road in discussion. Valens thanked his friend and rejoined Tacitus, who started the group again toward the gates of Rome. Several minutes passed and they could soon hear Proconsular Legate Carus Florianus Julianus, who was clearly frustrated.

"For the last time, these are the papers, can’t you read?" he asked, getting a confused look from the Urban Cohort guardsman, who probably couldn't read. He turned to his right when he heard the clamor of dozens of feet approaching him and his jaw dropped. Tacitus too noticed the young boy. His youthful expression quickly brought down his ornery attitude. He instantly recalled how the man before him liked to joke about being his illegitimate son and, just as Valens next to him, he smiled.

Valens’ pace quickened slightly and, once in range, called out to his brother. "Carus Florianus! The east couldn't erase a thing about you, what are you doing here?"

Florianus moved forward and threw his arms around his little brother, kissing each cheek, before kissing each cheek once again. “Valens! My stupid baby brother!” He cried out joyfully. He paused and took a step back. “By Minerva! My baby brother!” Then he paused and looked across at the other man- his old mentor and father figure. “Tacitus…” Last he’d heard was Tacitus was lost at sea, moving away from his brother he stopped in front of the man. “For a dead man you look very well, Tacitus!”

Tacitus smiled quickly and sincerely, before letting his grown take over again. He was pleased to see Florianus again, but he was still in a hurry. "Thank you, Florianus! It is too bad I am not here for fun- what is your problem, what is happening here with these guards?”

"The Urban Cohort man doesn’t know if he works for Emperor Raeus Vitellius, Consul Gaius Probus or Senator Tiberius Agrippa." Florianus said. "Let’s just say there have been many changes in the time you have been gone."

Tacitus's forehead wrinkled; He didn’t need reminding. "I know. That is why I am here. Hand me your papers."

Tacitus thrust his right hand out and Florianus handed the papers to it. He watched Tacitus tentatively; this was the man who'd made him a Legate, the man who'd frozen his ass off with him in the Pyrenees fighting against the Vascones. He reached out and placed his hand on Valens’ shoulder as Tacitus read over his papers, and said, "I am so glad to see you both, Rome has been in need of good men for some time now."

"Valens, turn around. This won’t hurt," Tacitus said. The Urban Cohort guards looked on, confused, and Valens reluctantly turned more toward his brother. Tacitus placed the papers on Valens' back, and then with a quick flash of his signet ring in the sun, he punched the papers on it, embossing his seal to them- and on Valens' shoulder. Valens grunted, 'ow...' and Tacitus stepped aside, toward the Urban Cohort guard, thrusting the papers back. Before they could respond, he said sternly, "I am Proconsul Lucius Tacitus Vitellius, the bear of Hispania- if anyone questions these, that is my seal. I am an uncle of both Emperor Raeus Vitellius and Consul Gaius Probus, and father of this bastard Legate you seek to deny passage. Step- aside."

“Aristocles!” Florianus called out, quick to capitalize on Tacitus’s authority, to the Praefectus Equitum Aristocles Pamphilos, the commander of his beloved cavalry unit. “I’ll take Vergilius’ turmae with me to Rome; you take the rest of the boys to the villa at Tivoli.” He said before saluting the man. “I’ll see you in a week.” Once they got moving again Florianus looked over at Tactius and spoke, "You know I'm the bear of Hispania."

Florianus said it in jest, yet with a tone of respect to his patron and teacher. Tacitus wanted to smile, proud to see that Florianus, who when they were last together was still a young and brash want-to-be general, was now a respected leader of men. Instead he just curled a corner of his mouth and let his eyes be the friendlier. "Before you go, Florianus, I need to know what happened in your words. Were you here, and if you can't help me, fine."

"Much has happened, my silly yet beloved fool of a brother-in-law Tetricus had Iovinianus Vallentinus arrested. Daia the greater fool had him killed, which sparked a rebellion from the northern army and I dare say lost us the war in the east, Terpus deserted the army to fight Verus and his mutinous legions with Raeus then needing to return to settle the situation in the end." Florianus said bluntly, almost annoyed again himself. “There is a joke going around Rome...Imperator Maximus Dio showed us how to govern, Imperator Septimus Varro showed us how not to govern. Princeps Decius Daia showed us that any fool can govern, and Praefectus Terpus showed us that not every fool can govern.”

"Idiots!" Tacitus bellowed, clenching his fists. Valens winced. Tacitus looked to Florianus again. "That is all I know as well, though in less detail. Where is Cassius staying–“

"He is staying at the Palatium Raeus Vitellius, as am I." Florianus replied. "He is well, recently became the Pontifex of Iuno, if not a little cranky, but then I have never known Cassius not to be cranky."

"Cassius, cranky? That must be a result of all this drama..." Tacitus said, exposing a moment of softness for his younger brother. Cassius was always the most jovial of the three Tullii brothers, whereas Tacitus was always the stalwart. Then he caught himself, losing the moment of compassion. "So at Raeus' place still. And you were with Titus- he is here as well?"

"His, fine, also at the Palatium Raeum. Your brother Titus and his Equites Singulares came over to the east to fight on campaign with Raeus," Florianus replied. His horse beside him began to overtake Tacitus and Valens, so he pulled the reigns to halt it. "Titus is well, he was amazing at the battle of Apemeia, I've never seen Roman cavalry handled so well.”

Tacitus smiled, enjoying the fact at least one of the three brothers took after their father. "That's Titus- always one for the sword, not the pen." He looked ahead down the short stretch of road left between him and Rome, then back to Florianus. "I hope your business in Tivoli is finished soon, and I'll see you in Rome before too long. I've come to set things straight, and there is much we should discuss... stories, I guess."

Tacitus was still angry, and his words short, but he was sincere, and obviously in a hurry. Valens clearly wanted to visit more with his brother, but his newfound bond with Tacitus bound him to continue alongside. Florianus nodded and took his queue to leave Tacitus and Valens to their business in town. He'd told Aristocles he wouldn't be in Tivoli till the end of the week, but he did have business in other parts of Rome.

"I'm heading to the Curia." He stated. "I'll see you and little brother for dinner this evening hopefully."

Tacitus began walking again, saying as he took his first few steps, "We can go together then.”

Tacitus and Florianus split once they reached the Palatine Forum. Tacitus went further south to the Viminal hill where the residence of Raeus Vitellius was located, and Florianus went west to the Curia Hostilia. It had been well over an hour since they met on the roadside, and the sunlight that blanketed the tallest parts of the city was now reaching the streets in between as it approached its zenith.

Gaining entrance into the Palace of the Emperor was more difficult than Tacitus anticipated, but after a quick argument with the Praetorian guards and an intervention from Lucius Cassius, he and his eighty guards were in. Tacitus felt out of sorts, as if he wasn’t supposed to be in Rome. It largely stemmed from being out of the loop of events over the past many months, especially when they pertained to his family. He was the head of the family, in all ways, and in spite of its obvious strains and pitfalls, it was a job he cherished over all others. Coming home to see his family scatted, and what was left in Rome housed in the home of a distant cousin- albeit an Imperial cousin- left Tacitus feeling as close to a failure as he ever had.

“Brother, I had no idea you were coming.” Cassius exclaimed, escorting Tacitus into the vast central room of the palace. The guard along with Valens were being shown to the parts of the palace complex where other guards were kept. Tacitus looked around in awe at the palace around him, and it reminded him of the home they lost. Cassius looked, for the first time that Tacitus could remember, old.

“I intentionally came unannounced.” He said, relaxed for the first time since leaving Equestris. “Cassius you look old.”

“So you do, Tacitus.” Cassius responded, smoothly. “Augustina, Phillipus and I are overwhelmed with joy that you were found alive.”

Tacitus lightened up even more at the mention of his youngest son, who he hadn’t seen in almost two years. His tone was vulnerable and yearning. “Where is Phillipus?”

Cassius looked over to Tacitus and gave him a sad look, saying, “He didn’t know you would be here or he would have been with us now. He is out with Gaius Probus.”

“Ah... too bad.” Tacitus sighed. “Cassius, stop walking. Let’s just sit, this chair looks fine.”

“Ok, sure.” Cassius accepted and sat down. They were in the colonnade that surrounded the atrium of the palace, sitting on some random chairs that seemed more out of place than intentionally positioned there. Cassius looked concerned. “It’s been a rough few months, Tacitus. There are no words to express how relieved I am that you are alive.”

Tacitus glared at Cassius and pursed his lips. He looked his little brother up and down, taking in every new wrinkle and look of stress and responsibility. Cassius had never been the brother to take responsibility, but at the same time he had never in their entire brotherly relationship given a reason to be bothered by his lack of it. “I will not clean up this mess, Cassius. You were here when–“

“This mess? You think I am relieved to see you because I can’t handle this family without you?” Cassius was appalled, it showed. He had been dealing with everything on his own since the riots, without either of his brothers until the return of his own twin Titus with Calidus Raeus Vitellius a few short months prior. Even with his other brother in town, he wouldn’t allow Titus to share in the responsibility of rebuilding. “Tacitus that is unfair.”

“Not from where I sit.” Tacitus said, sternly. “All our lives I have taken ca–“

“You were gone, Tacitus. I handled it all. I dealt with the cause of the fire. I secure the family by sending them away. I worked with other notables to secure peace where it was needed and I took charge in rebuilding the house.” Cassius paused for a breath, and scolded an eavesdropping slave with a quick glare and a shake of his head. He continued while looking at Tacitus. “I was prepared to and did take charge in your stead to do what needed to be done. After I thought you were dead, after we all thought you were lost and dead, how can you make your first visit back one of such scorn?”

Tacitus let his brothers words sink in for a few moments, thinking them over and interpreting his tone. Never before had they spoke like this, and never before had there been a reason. Times were different, and Tacitus was still angry- no matter if Cassius had indeed done a fine job picking up the mess. “I couldn’t have done better here in the city. You’ve done well, but it isn’t enough. Someone needs to pay for this. For it all.”

“I agree, Tacitus.” Cassius said slowly, trying not to let his sudden humiliation and anger overcome his happiness at being near his elder brother again. Tacitus had taken over the role of father to Cassius, Titus and their sisters when their father, Lucius the Venerable, met his fate with the Goths in Belgica. “Maximus Decius has accepted blame where it could be allotted, but the rest, we’ve just had to hold our heads up and maintain life as if the riots never happened.”

“According to Florianus you’ve been doing well at that, too.” Tacitus let a smile go, hoping to raise his brothers spirits. Truth be told returning to normal as it was before the riots, fire and forced change in Imperial leadership wasn’t enough for Tacitus, but when it came to his brother, it was just enough. “Look Cassius, I apologize.”

Cassius stood up, feeling a need to change the subject and the setting. The apology was big coming from Tacitus, and he wanted to stop there. “Why don’t I show you the progress on the house. It’s estimated to be live in ready next spring.”

Tacitus stood as well, and lead the way. “That’s good news. I should tell you then that I’ve arranged with the widow of Pompeius Septimus Varro to lease the Palatium Ostia Vitelli-Varrones from her until then.”

=== Well into that night, Palatium Raeus Vitellius ===

"Calidus Raeus?" Tacitus asked, oddly surprised to see the new Emperor in his own home. He wandered out of the doorway which he glimpsed the youthful leader and waited for him to turn and reply.

Raeus turned with a smile on his face, recognizing the voice. "Lucius Tacitus, it is good to see you again cousin. Many of us feared for the worst following your disappearance in Hispania. Come, walk with me." He motioned, leading the Consular down the same colonnade Tacitus sat with Cassius in hours earlier.

Tacitus obliged Raeus, picking up pace to keep along. He wasn’t as energetic as he was when Raeus’ age. "I admit I didn't expect to see you soon after my arrival- I've only been here half a day. My how you look eastern! Congratulations too, I suppose, on finally getting what you didn't want."

Realizing he ignored the Emperor’s other comments, Tacitus nodded once to bring them back for comment. "Yes, thank you- Many thought I was a dead man, when in reality I was simply a man who forgot where he was from. It is good to be my old self again."

Raeus shook his head ruefully. "I am quite sure it is. And my thanks as well - you are right, this is not something I have ever craved." He cast a brief glance skywards. "I sometimes think that when I make plans, the Gods simply laugh at me."

"I would take that as a sign they enjoy the job of being gods, then. I pray they never get bored!" Tacitus huffed a scratched laugh. The air around them was pleasant, with numerous fall aromas flittering about. "First things first, I want you to know how much I appreciate the allowance of housing you've provided my family- our... family- after the fire of the old palace. If I had been here, I... well I wasn't, so thank you again. I’ve made arrangements to take over the Ostia home of Septimus Varro's widow, which is roomy enough for my needy and abundant clan."

Raeus nodded. "A move to Ostia? Well, I wish you well with it, but know that your family is welcome here as long as is necessary. So, my friend, what are your plans for the immediate future?"

"Righting some wrongs, of course. Returning to the Curia with a newfound vigor and desire to keep Tetrican copycats from reaching too far, as well. Of course, forcing Cassius to continue overseeing the palace reconstruction as well." Tacitus sighed. "Raeus, if I were here- I would have done all I could to keep what happened from happening. I've always anticipated you becoming Emperor, but to again from the idiocy and over-powered authority of lesser men to be thrust to the brink of civil war and have a leader deposed by force... It's shameful. I believe you will bring us back to the smooth and glorious path we've missed for so long."

"I can but try," Raeus spread his hands. "There is much to be done, and I fear factions to be reconciled. It's good to have you back in Rome though - your counsel will be invaluable to me. I actually did mean to speak to you on a matter of personal business regarding your family’s holdings in Belgica and Britannia."

"By all means, ask me anything. The holdings in Belgica comprise just over a third of my family’s initial estates, thanks in part to the sale of the Pompeian Varro holdings to me after Divus Pompeius' death." Tacitus stopped short of continuing and smiled at the new Empress from across the atrium.

Raeus too turned and glanced across at his wife, smiling before continuing. "Yes, they are substantial, and I know Rome has long been grateful for your family’s generosity in regional development." He paused. "But I meant to inform you, I intend over time to Imperialise Vallentinus' Britannic adventure, and to work at breaking apart his stranglehold on the region."

Tacitus kept walking, not surprised in the least over the words that his Emperor let out. He thought for a moment, then said, "Good. I have always maintained a level of open cooperation in the region, to make the best with whatever situation lays in wait in regards to my holdings there. I did allow investment through my brother-in-law, Maximus Decius Agrippa, into the Britannic ventures of Iovinianus. In complete honesty though, I know very little of their location, details or rate of return. I do know that my nephew Decius Cassius is on the 'board', as it is, though. My own personal holdings in Britannia are small at best, and centered around the Durotriges."

"Very well, I may contact him to get information. I just wanted to keep you informed, that I feel Belgica, whilst gaining some Imperial investment, will hopefully be focusing on that funding rather than private funding from the Vallentinus faction."

"Any help you need, just ask. I had no personal attachment to the Vallentinus faction up there, though economically he did help a bit." Tacitus looked at Raeus with a wry smile, then quickly dropped it. "Maximus Decius Agrippa owes me a debt for inciting the rioters to burn my house. Call on him, and while reluctantly, he will do what he can."

Raeus smiled. "Duly noted. Very well, was there any other business we needed to speak on?"

"Nothing too specific, but I need to confide that I am terribly disturbed and perpetually upset over the acts that occurred while I was away. Politics themselves aside, the invasion of my home to arrest Iovinianus and the subsequent burning of it, I all attribute to one man." Tacitus looked at Raeus as they turned down a hallway, continuing, "He is in self imposed exile, but Raeus- do you have any attachment to the man?"

Raeus nodded grimly, and put a hand on Tacitus' shoulder and led him into his office, which turned out to be where he was heading anyway, closing the door behind them. Only then did he speak with a sigh. "Tetricus has long been an advocate of mine, for which I owe him thanks I suppose, but his actions over the last months have concerned me." He rubbed his hand under his chin.

Tacitus bore a cautious look as he turned to pace just a step or two away from Raeus. "Though, the rebel Decius Lucius Verus is an advocate of yours as well, I've heard. No offense to you intended, but I think we can agree you have a broad range of support."

Raeus sat down into his favorite chair slowly, and a wry grin crossed his face. "Broad support is always guaranteed when you are in a position of strength. Ever the politician, Tacitus." The words were spoken evenly. "What do you wish to do?"

"Again, nothing specific," He stated, perching against a shelf. He thought over his desires for a moment and then continued. "Retribution is always a common theme amongst the greater men of the empire. I would desire to see Tetricus's self imposed exile turned permanent, but I understand how charging him with a crime would be difficult, even in abstentia."

He let his words settle, and after a brief quiet said, "My home was ancestral- gifted from one great man to the great man that bred my line of Vitelli. Dozens of families have graced and terrorized its interior, and numerous other current sitting politicians had been born, raised or have blood ties to its foundations. The cost of such an icon, the 'second senate' I heard it said once, is too great to estimate. What I wish to do is claim all Sarian holdings in Gaul as restitution."

The Emperor's eyebrows rose slightly, and he steepled his fingers, staying silent for what seemed an eternity. Eventually, he stirred. "Your family’s home was my family’s home for many years, Tacitus, and for that I am eternally grateful. But what you ask is something indeed... As you say, the man has committed no crime and whilst his exile could be tolerated, to dispossess the whole family would seem to go against the rule of law."

Tacitus nodded, "It would seem, I agree. I have his brother Britannicus and his cousin Actius in Equestis at the moment, who both tell of Tetricus liquidating all he could before he took Legio I Minerva. That shows me he knew what he did could result in death and property seizure- showing me that he himself viewed his acts as criminal. I conceded to a lesser form of restitution. My ambition is not to see his family ruined. His own twin children are the niece and nephew of our beloved Carus Florianus, and his brothers are, frankly, as closely related to me as you are- even if they have been the bane of the Tullian existence. An imperial order from you would clear the way to reimburse me for the loss of my palace- our palace, as you stated with feeling."

Raeus looked through the dim light of the office at his ‘uncle’ Tacitus, expressionless.


--------------------------------------------------
Written By: Ferus Juventas with Rp from Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Carus Florianus Julianus.

Edited By: GMs (FJ, JOM)

AD 132
Mon, 16 Jun 2008 18:56:02 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11320 Ben, aka Sol Invictus, has stepped down from his position as GM. He expects to return to the game soon - this time as a player.

Ben no longer has access to the secretscenarios@yahoo.com account, and as of tomorrow he will not use the Sol Invictus account. In order to ensure that no active player has knowledge of recent SS submissions, Ben will wait two weeks before actively playing his new PC. Before the two weeks have passed, he may play in a low-key capacity (setting up the character and a Wiki account, buying marketplace holdings, etc).

I would like to thank Ben for the work that he has done as a GM, including the recent oversight of the Eastern War (which is a considerable task). Fri, 13 Jun 2008 00:43:59 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11318 Lucius Tacitus Vitellius sat on a cushioned seat next to his wife, surrounded by numerous children, grandchildren, cousins, nieces and nephews. They were up late in the private family room of the Proconsular palace hearing stories from Auna, who was being translated by a slave who by chance happened to let Vespa know she spoke a similar tongue to that of Auna and Minurus.

It was the same day that Tacitus arrived to the Proconsular palace after his short trek home from eight months in that tiny coastal village. After he and Vespa reconnected with more emotion than either thought they could muster, Tacitus was brought out to the family on the lawn and met with a barrage of enthusiasm. Tears were shed and embraces were traded readily. Everyone was happy to have him back, and he was happy to be back as well.

For the rest of the day the entire family was inseparable. Tacitus recounted stories for them as he did during that first night on his way back to civilization and like the rest of the way to Equestris with Valens Julianus. Come evening, after the family meal, they had gathered in the great room and lit fires to get warm by. It was May in central Iberia, so while the days were warm, the nights were still very cool. Tacitus wanted them to share the stories of Auna, who he hoped would become a governess for his family, a caregiver who was welcomed as a member of the family.

The family, especially Vespa, were excited for such an event. None had ever heard of her people, though admittedly not many of the family had ever ventured west of Equestris anyway. Auna was nervous, but soon enough she found her solid ground. She still adored her Baetus Dubertici, but being the wisest of her people, she was quick to accept that he was never ‘hers’, he was greater than her own. His return of the kindness she expressed to him was overwhelming her, and so the ability to give back, even through the sharing of stories, pleased her.

The translator sat to the right of Auna, and Minurus with some younger girls of the family on her left. The younger girls had taken an immediate attraction to Minurus, who once was cleaned and dressed in Roman style clothing was quite attractive to all who gazed upon him. Tacitus and Vespa sat holding each other on a larger divan directly across from Auna, and around them completing an oblong circle sat the rest of the family.

Auna began, translated of course. “You all are so very lucky to have my, this... to have Tacitus as your family. He was a blessing to our village. He wants a story, so I will give him a story..” She smiled, making the thousands of wrinkles on her face dance around. “I will tell him a warning story, one that has been passed down as many times as I can remember.”

Some of the adults ‘awed’ at the notion that the story was an ancient tribal tale, and the younger members of the family, sitting crisscrossed on the floor or snuggled against another on a lounge stared back at Auna excited. She turned to the translator and spoke quickly, and the translator relayed her words as Auna leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “It’s more of a poem really, she says, and less of a story...”

“Autumn wind is in her hair
The sun is shining through the tops of the trees
Her blue eyes sparkle in the path of the light
Her smile invites the chirp of the birds

The trot of a doe through the brush
Her eyes focus on the fawn trailing behind
Clouds are blocking the suns way through the trees
An eagle cries

The trail she follows in worn, beaten
Squirrels dart to and fro in her light-footed path
Thorns do not snag at her dress
The fawn looks back, with wonder

Wind is blowing her hair wildly
Chilly and cold she still pursues the pair
There is no more sun through the trees
A water drop, small and shiny, lands on her shoulder

The doe and fawn are hidden well
She beckons, knowing she is lost
The rain is beginning to pelt
Her own tears add to the wetness

The call of a lone wolf
She looks, worried of her fate
The howl is closer now
She begins to run, blindly deeper into the wood

The birds are all now quiet
Her sobbing has quieted their songs
It is black, the night envelopes her
She submits, and falls to the wetted forest floor

The wind is now howling
Over her muffled sobs she hears her name
The winds are louder, screeching through the trees
Up she sits, hoping it is true

Fog is entwining her
She stands up, to listen more
Her name, no, the wind, her name
She begins to walk

Through the pelting, driving rain she walks
Against her fear of the howling wolf
Her dress is in tatters, trailing like loose lace
An owl lets out a forlorn hoot

The wind is blowing her ramped
She stumbles, sobbing in weak pain
Through the fog, she sees a clearing
Hope wells up inside

She stands up, against the ripping thorns
Another bowl starts her
She runs blindly, hoping to find a way
The clearing is closer

Driven by the sounds of night she runs
Toward the end of the wood
The end is near, a few long paces, near
Lightning crashes in the back of her path

A cliff, greets her with the jaggedness of rocks
Her scream joins those of the animals of the night
The rain is slowing, along with the wind
Her name, is called again.”

Auna was standing now, having risen to her feet around the middle of the tale. She had used her hands to enunciate points along the way, often thrusting them out in the face of a young one, or using pointed fingers when saying a part a certain way while staring at one of the adults. When she was finished, everyone was silent and all eyes were on her. She enjoyed that look; It was the same she had when she read fortunes and retold legends with her people.

One of the children, the fourteen year old granddaughter of Senator Lucius Cassius Vitellius, looked confused. After looking to her great-uncle, and then her parents to check for objections (if they had shook the glaze off their eyes they would have seen her), and when she was met with none, she stood up. “Did she DIE?”

Vespa laughed out of her entranced visuals of the story and, when her grandniece turned to look at her, waved her silent. “Yes she did, Otholina.”

Otholina wasn’t sold on the outcome. Her eyebrows twisted together in confusion, and she asked, “Well why?”

Auna spoke, having had the girls question and Vespa’s answer translated to her. “Good girls don’t wander alone, child.”

Otholina looked frustrated as the rest of them laughed, seeing the moral clearly now, and she sat down again. Auna smiled at her as warmly as she could. Otholina smirked quickly and then grabbed a drink off the floor before her. Zoticus, Tacitus’s fifteen year old grandson visiting from Carthage, twisted in his seat to face his grandfather. He has been sent north by Tacitus Cassius, his father and Tacitus’s eldest son, once Tacitus had gone missing to help Cassius’s stepmother in any way he could. Tacitus, smiling, looked at his grandson. “You look like you want to say something.”

“I do,” Zoticus said. “Tell us again about the fight with the pirates when you became lost!”

Vespa groaned, and with pat on her husband stomach excused herself to use the restroom. Tacitus laughed, “Oh gods, seriously child? I’ve told it four times since I... I just got here! I need rest, time to... ok. Ok just this once more, than I have to rest.”

Zoticus smiles, as did the other younger generation. The adults refreshed their beverages and adjusted their cushions to be comfortable enough for yet another telling of the now infamous family story. Auna and Minurus were excited too, since they were part of it.

Tacitus stood up to tell it. “I had heard from the Magistrate of Pertinaxus that there were pirates raiding the...”


The next morning Tacitus awoke later than his wife. He opened his eyes with a deep yawn and stretched his arms as high above him as they would go- and both his elbows popped. ‘Damn being old,’ he though as he rolled out of bed, his shoulder, knees and back popping all in succession. He looked around the room and didn’t see Vespa, but the sunlight was pouring in the windows and he could hear the sounds of the city below. It was definately time for all decent people to be awake.

Feeling a bit grimy from his lengthy slumber, Tacitus went right into the bath and gave himself a bird bath- something a soldier had taught him once. He washed his most offensively odorous bits and then dressed himself. His return had begun to seem surreal to him, and as he dressed for the second time in eight months in his own clothes, in his own home, he questioned whether or not it was real.

After wondering for about thirty seconds, his old sense of urgency reemerged, pushing him toward his old office. ‘I am Proconsul,’ he thought to himself as he made his way downstairs toward his study, ‘I should be behind a desk, or executing somebody, or signing something!’

Inside his study he found his wife, Flaviana Vespa, his old secretary Atticus, and Carus Valens Julianus. Atticus rushed forward and stopped just short of embracing Tacitus. “Welcome home sir! News has already spread throughout the city- the people are very, very excited to have you back!”

Tacitus was about to say something in return, but Vespa cut him off, silencing Atticus. “Yes, yes Atticus. You missed Tacitus, but I need you to focus. We have to inform Tacitus of all that went on, here and in Rome. Think!”
Vespa thrust a crudely written list out toward Atticus, who stood on the opposite side of the desk she was sitting behind. As Atticus took the list, she smiled at her husband, “Good morning, Tacitus. I chose to let you sleep- it is about midday- because I assumed you’d be a little bit tired after eight months in a dirty coastal town.”

“Yes, this list looks complete.” Atticus said, using a finger as a pointer on the page. Tacitus rubbed his cheeks with one hand, gripping the lower half of his face. He walked around Atticus to Vespa and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you dear, I am very rested. I say too, you look stunning behind this desk. I hope I can have it back...”

Vespa laughed. Tacitus chuckled in return at first thinking she was being funny, then stopped short when he thought she could be laughing at him, for wanting to resume control. Atticus stopped those thoughts with the list, “Here you go, sir.”

“What’s this?” Tacitus asked, browsing it over. Everybody was quiet as he went down the list, his eyes darting from word to word, then line to line. As if they had timed his reading speed, they cringed when they felt he was close to the worst on the list. Their timing wasn’t far off.

Tacitus’s yell could be heard outside the palace, as far as a fish monger on the river. His yell was so loud that birds flew from their perch on the palace rooftop, and bees fell from their flowers in fear. Inside the office however, everyone was still quiet- except for Tacitus. His face had turned red and the list began to crinkle in his tightening fists.

“My house!” He shouted. “MY HOUSE!? My house.”

Vespa tried to move out from behind the desk, but a quick thrust of Tacitus’s arm stopped her in place. He was furious. The list wasn’t full of bad things, but the few that were bad just happened to be the worst he could think of. He sobbed a little, letting his eyes go from furious to sorrowful, then immediately back to furious. “The palace my great-grandfather built is gone. The home of my family, is- That’s why they’re all here! That’s why, oh Iuno... No.”

Tacitus glared at Valens. “Why didn’t you tell me this on the way here?!”

“I.. I... you could hardly remember who you were, I thou–“

“This sure would have brought it all back to me! AHH!” Tacitus threw the list into the air and turned around, breathing deeply. Valens, Vespa and Atticus looked at each other with the ‘help me’ eyes, but none said a word. Tacitus shouted toward the wall. “This is terrible!”

Atticus picked up the list and uncrumpled it. “Sir, if I may... There are worse things on the list than–“

“Nothing!” Tacitus wheeled around and flagged his right hand in Atticus’s face, as if waving away the words coming out of his secretary’s mouth. “Is worse than losing the symbol of your family, damnit! I know worse things are on that list. Brutus Cassius and Cassius Maecius dead? You think I didn’t read that?”

“Well uh, sir...” Atticus stutted, and smiled meekly when Vespa reached out and took the list from his trembling hands. She walked around Atticus and stood in front of her husband.

“We wanted you to arrive here, home, without worry Tacitus. We missed you so much that we wanted one good day, or two, or twenty with you before letting you know all of this.” She placed one hand on his chest, which was heaving up and down rapidly, and clenched the list with her other hand.

“Lucius Cassius has been dealing with things in Rome.” She stated, her tone stern. “He sent the family out of the city for protection. The death of Iovinianus Vallentinus caused enough problems that the loss of the house was quickly lowered on the list of prio–“

Tacitus stopped breathing. “What did you say?”

Valens cut in, standing up straight. “Iovinianus Vallentinus was killed, sir. Your brother let Consul Tetricus Vitellius hold a special hearing at your house in Rome and, well sir, Tetricus tricked the entire senate and arrested Iovinianus then and there. Then of course Princeps Daia had him killed.”

Tacitus’s face went white. He looked straight ahead, and then to his wife, and then to Valens. “This is... Do you know what his legions will do? They will march on Rome! Where is he, what’s the... This is horrible!”

Vespa stepped back and looked her husband straight in the eyes. “Tacitus- it’s under control. Remember that this happened months ago, when there was nothing you could do. The Vallites marched south already. Legions assembled to defend Rome. Tetricus resigned his Consul seat and fled. The house is gone, the family is safe. It’s rumored that Calidus Raeus Vitellius is on his way to the city. The rebels demand his reign instead of Decius Daia.”

Tacitus shook his head and sniveled, clearing his sinuses. “Hah, that’s a first. Practical rebels...”

Nobody said anything. Tacitus sat down and took a few deep breaths. “Ok. Okay... So in the last eight months, our home was destroyed, members of our family lost, our honor defiled, and Rome was been cast yet again to the brink of civil war. Please tell me something good, or I think I may go live in that little village again.”

“Well,” Vespa said slowly, crumpling the list up again. “Thanks to Valens here, and your cousin the Rationalis, the Arevaci have been subdued for the distant future and, the brother of the Rationalis, Cicero, has succesfully lobbied for citizenship of the three most prominent tribes of this province.”

Tacitus looked up from the floor and locked eyes with his wife, then Valens. “I guess citizenship is good...”

Written By: Ferus Juventas
Edited By: Jupiter Optimus Maximus

132 AD




Sun, 08 Jun 2008 04:26:43 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11315 === Ostia docks, Maius 132 AD ===

The ship carrying Proconsular Legate Raeus Vitellius and his host of aids, staff, and guards slowly docked. Men began to shuffle around the ship grabbing their belongings for there departure. It was mid morning and clear out- a staunch contrast to the dark and murky clouds that had formed over the political arena in Rome.

Ramirus stood next to Cassius, his personal bodyguard, as slaves on the docks prepared their horses. He turned and looked off into the direction of Rome as if he could see her high walls and symbols of SPQR. It had been years since he had been home and in that time many members of his family had fallen to their would-be enemies. Cassius walked up placing his hand on Ramirus's shoulder, saying, "We'll be there soon enough my friend, you must quiet the butterflies in your stomach."

Ramirus turned and cracked a smile, hiding his true feelings. He bent down, picking up a bundle of clothes he had tied together and loaded it on the back of the horse drawn wagon. His men, numbering ten, followed suit loading there belonging onto the wagon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a great entourage approach with Proconsular Legate Calidus Raeus Vitellius at its head. He stood at attention and saluted.

Raeus kicked his horse to a stop near the young Tribune. "Ramirus Flavus. Bound for Rome, Tribune?" His horse skittered beneath him, and he scowled as he brought her back under control.

"Yes sir, I have a bit of business to deal with in light of my grandfathers death. My family stands shattered and leaderless, I mean to step in and pull them all back together sir."

Raeus nodded slightly. "Then you have my sympathies, Ramirus. Such affairs can be difficult for a young man to manage." He looked a little uncomfortable. "But know that you fought well in the east. Should you need anything of me, you need but ask."

Feeling that all eyes were now on him Ramirus nodded. "Thank you sir, but I am at your service. Rome is in peril and I know you cannot stand to see her suffer. You will undoubtedly be putting yourself in danger, if ever you need my sword it is yours." Ramirus saluted once again to his venerable commander.

Raeus returned the salute, touching his fist to his opposite shoulder. "I shall remember that, and have use of it in the future, I am sure. It is your future to lead men. I shall remember this. Farewell, and good luck with your family." He kicked his horse forward once more.

=== Later that morning ===

A messenger was sent to Lucius Cassius Vitellius at the home of Calidus Raeus Vitellius in Rome, where the Senator a small group of his family had taken residence. He bore a request for a meeting with Sillius Ramirus Flavus, son of Gaius Sillius Flavus, later that day in the Flavus Palace. It was half past noon when Lucius Cassius Vitellius, and his nephew Tacitus Phillipus, youngest son of he missing Proconsul Lucius Tacitus Vitellius, arrived at the Flavus palace.

A slave opened the doors to the palace and welcomed the two in. He escorted them into the atrium where Sillius Ramirus Flavus and Marcus Tullio we sitting eating some figs. The slave hurried into the room and bowed his head, "Master your guests have arrived."

Ramirus stood and walked up to the pair with his hand extended. "Ah Cassius Vitellius, it’s been along time."

Cassius was hesitant, and his nephew smiled awkwardly as well. Cassius hadn’t seen Ramirus in over a decade and Phillipus had never met the new Flavus paterfamilias. "You must be Ramirus then! Yes... it has been so long I can only conjure an image of you as a young child. How are you these days?"

"Well those damn Persians tried to send me to the underworld on a few occasions but as you can see they failed.” Ramirus smiled, and Tullio behind him chuckled. “I’m sorry, where are my manners- your guest is?"

Phillipus stepped forward, "I am Tacitus Phillipus, son of --"

"Ramirus this is my nephew Phillipus, youngest son of my elder brother Tacitus." Cassius nodded with a grin and patted his nephew on his back. "We share your sorrow in regards to your grandfather."

Ramirus lowered his head in sorrow. He loved his grandfather and was stunned at the news of his death. "Thank you, I was told he did not suffer but died peacefully. I will miss him greatly and Rome has lost a great patron of the gods." Ramirus took a few steps back and with his arm out gesturing for the pair to sit. He clapped his hands twice and a slave brought two cups and filled them with wine. "Sit, drink and let’s talk"

Cassius and Phillipus both accepted the invitation and sat, a few paces apart from each other. Cassius gladly obliged a slave who handed out a cup of wine. He said, "Alright then Ramirus, yes. What about?"

Marcus Tullio stood shaking Ramirus's hand before taking his leave. "I will see you later my friend."

Ramirus turned his attention back to Cassius as he picked up his cup taking a swig and placing it back. "Oh I think we have a great many things to discuss."

Ramirus clapped his hand twice again and the door to the room flung open and men poured in and surrounded the group. All men in armor with there hands on there swords. At once all the men drew their swords a quarter of the way out of their scabbards and halted

Ramirus reached over picking up his cup to take another sip of his wine then stared at the two. Cassius looked annoyed, and sighed. Phillipus looked scared and tried to rise to his feet, but a quick glance from his uncle stopped him in a squatting position. Cassius looked to Ramirus, "Very nice. I was hoping to speak with an adult, but if you want to play soldiers I can have my men come to play too."

"You will find the palace very secure and your men locked outside. Needless to say you would be dead long before they reach this room. If I wanted you dead you would be so, my men would have come in and laid waste to you both before you knew what hit you. You betrayed my father, your friend. He trusted you above many others and you led him to his death. I have more right kill you then any mob in the street. With Tullii popularity now being what it is I could kill you and throw you out the door and the people would sing and praise my name in the streets." Ramirus stared into Cassius’s eyes, then lowered his head.

He once again clapped his hands signaling for the guards to leave. They turned in formation and marched out the room, except for his head guard Cassius who walked behind Ramirus and folded his arms. Ramirus sighed. "But I don’t mean to be punitive, the old wounds have healed and the past is just that past."

"I did not betray Sillius." Cassius stated slowly. He rose to his feet. Phillipus looked stunned as his uncles tone turned sarcastic. "What happened was that I was followed. I would not have turned on a friend such as he. I never have. These wounds are old, and I mourned too. What else is troubling you? Obviously- there- is- more."

Ramirus arose to his feet with a touch of anger in his voice. "I would believe that if my cousin Iovinianus Vallentinus had not been betrayed in the same way. How many more of my family has to fall at your hands? While I’m away my family has almost been razed to the ground."

Phillipus jumped to his feet again and watched as his uncles face contorted. Cassius stepped forward and, using his hands, started to yell. "You think I had something to do with the death of Iovinianus? I petitioned Emperor Daia to let him go! My own cousin was married to Kaeso! My own blessed nephew is married to the daughter of Iovinianus--"

"Our house was razed to the ground, you... you idiot soldier!" Phillipus ranted. He was out of place and out of character- and young- so his words were ignored.

Cassius continued, "We suffered as Vallentinus has suffered, Ramirus. You were gone from this house when Sillius died. You weren't here when I was with Julius Flavus- and I support his deification! How can you honestly accuse me- us!- of utter betrayal?"

“My father and cousin both died meeting you, what would you have me think? My sister is in hiding, my mother has gone mad, my uncle is an idiot, and my cousin Arathae is a life long soldier. I am alone in this Cassius! It’s only me, no family should be made to suffer as mine has. I don’t want your blood or revenge, I want peace and to rebuild my family. But I need to know if I come to your house one-day will there be a host of men waiting to kill me. My father trusted you and he hardly trusted anyone, now I need to know can I trust you!" Ramirus fought back the emotions from boiling to the top.

Cassius flung his right hand forward and point his first two fingers at Ramirus, glaring and speaking calmly. "Too much has gone wrong for me to intentionally screw anyone over, Ramirus. I've lost my brother, two cousins and my house. My family is scattered and it appears that the popularity we once shared with the common man is in tatters. You can come to my house all you want, but you'll find it full of workmen with chisels and paintbrushes. Enjoy this massive palace and the wealth of your grandfather. I have a life to rebuild as well- and I’d like to get back to it."

"Then the fates have woven us together for a reason, Cassius. I see two families broken, two families that will rebuild and rise from the ashes. The question is will they rise together or apart. Alone both you and I are vulnerable together we would be more formidable. I Pledge my self, my services and my sword to your side, if you will pledge the same." Ramirus walked to the door, holding it open. "You can leave now and never look back, or leave with an alliance in hand. Your choice, but I hope you don’t let a few men with swords cloud your judgment. You need me just as much as I need you, your party needs me, and your family needs me. So don’t let your anger sway you from the most logical choice

Cassius was still looking angry, and pushed Phillipus out before him as they walked away. Cassius stopped in the doorway and looked Ramirus dead on. "Our families will remain allies, as they always have, but this is the last time I set foot in your home. Enjoy your evening."

Ramirus slowly closed the door and smiled as he confidently walked back to the couch and sat down. Cassius walked around and stared at Ramirus, who was visibly upset.

“You go to far Ramirus, that man isn’t to be crossed. He’s a high ranking member of the senate and regardless of what the mood of the mob is he’s a very powerful man from a very powerful family.”

“AHHH by the gods Cassius you complain like an old woman.” Ramirus said in a frustrated tone. “To gain Cassius as an ally is a foot hold into the senate. We never know what the future holds and i’d rather have friends the enemies.”

Cassius unstrapped his sword, laying it on the table before sitting on the adjacent couch. “You have a strange way of making friends”

“Yeah well, now I have his attention. Before he saw me as a boy and now he will see me as a man.” Ramirus sat back on the couch as a cunning grin came over his face.

=== The next day ===

Ramirus had stayed in bed all morning. He had been the entire night with the thick but attractive girl from the kitchen. She was known to have a beautiful singing voice and after several rigorous sexual sessions Ramirus enjoyed the sweet harmony of his favorite songs. He smiled at the girl who pranced back and forth naked wooing him with her melody.

“If only you were of noble blood I would marry you for your voice alone,” he said. He took her hand and gently kissing it.

A clammer arose in the distance and it was the second time he had heard it. He ignored it the first time but his curiosity would no longer allow that. He pulled his tunic over his head and opened the door making his way across the large palace to where he heard the noise. The shock of the events in font of him nearly knocked him over. His mother was lying naked on the table making love to strange man.

“BY THE GODS WHAT IN HADES IS GOING ON?!” Ramirus shouted as he took a few steps closer to the table, eyes wide.

The man turned around and smiled at him before dismounting his mother. “Calm now young master, my name is Didius- a friend of your mothers. We were just having a bit of fun is all.” The naked man stood very frankly in front of Ramirus as he took a glass filled with wine from a slave and began to drink. Ramirus in utter shock at first could not move but as the man lowed the glass he slapped it out of his hands.

“Now, now Ramirus! No need to make a fuss--” before he could finish Ramirus had grabbed him tightly by the throat and squeezed with all his might. The man began to fight back to release Ramirus’s grip but to no avail. Ramirus forced him back to the table bending him onto the table and applied all his body weight to keep the man pinned down.

“You dare address me as if you knew me, you defile my house, you treat my mother as if she were a common whore and you say there’s no need to get mad!” Ramirus grabbed the naked man and flung him to the ground kicking him repeatedly. The man began to yell in pain as he did his best to block the incoming blows.

Ramirus wanted this man out. “Gau–“

“Give it a rest, Ramirus.” interrupted a satirical voice from the entryway. Titus Pompeius Flavus, the adopted son of the late Pontifex Maximus Tacitus Julius Flavus entered and, with disdain in his voice, took the wind from his cousins’ sails. “He has been doing your mother in this kitchen for years- get over it. This is my house too and it really doesn’t bother me.”
“What?” Ramirus asked, shocked. He hadn’t exactly expected the house to be just his own- it was part of the family estate after all, but his mother? He was appalled that she would be so brazen and uncouth. He threw his hands up. “Fine!”

Cassius entered the room after hearing a short yell from his commander. Ramirus turned looking at his friend and guard. Cassius looked over at the naked man then over at Siana, Ramirus’s mother, then back to Ramirus. “I’m not sure I want to know what’s been going on here.”

Ramirus turned to his mother for a moment, “You shame your self mother and you shame me.”

Pompeius walked past his cousin Siana, who had begun to sob, and patted her on the head, winking at Ramirus. Ramirus ignored him and turned to Cassius, leaving his mother sitting on the table sobbing out of embarrassment. He asked Cassius: “Any news?”

Cassius looked dumbfounded at the events and Ramirus’s cold dexterity “The general made a speech in the senate then addressed the people in forum. He intends to ride north to speak to the wolfs. Make Verus and his lot hear reason or its war again.”

Ramirus shook his head “I don’t think Verus is that stupid, any fight with Raeus would be short and bloody. Daia should have handled him the very moment he threaten Rome.”

Cassius smirked “Daia doesn’t have the will power to keep the throne, to many people see his true colors.” Cassius folded his arms leaning against the wall “Now would be a good time to get a consensus of the support Raeus has in the senate. Maybe speak to the general before he leaves reassuring that the army and the senate are behind him?”

Ramirus smiled and grabbed Cassius by the shoulders shaking him gently “Well Cassius I see your not an old woman after all. A dinner party would be a wonderful way to discuss the matter, Ill make a list you have it sent to them aye.”

=== Palatium Terentius Polybius, later that evening ===

Ramirus Flavus, surrounded by his guards, waited at the large doors of the former Lupidius Palace. He had requested a meeting with some of his father’s old friends and other influential members of the senate. He was new to politics and was laying the ground works for the key alliances that would help him in the future. After a few moments A slave returned to the door escorting him and his bodyguard Cassius into the palace to where the other men were seated.

The slave bowed and announced the Tribune. "Sirs, I present Sillius Ramirus Flavus."

Terentius Marcus Polybius smiled and greeted the young soldier as he was shown through the house. There, sitting comfortably in the dining area of the palace being tended to by an army of slaves were Lucius Moravius, Quintillius Tullio, Lucius Cassius Vitellius and Flavus Augustus Losto. They greeted Ramirus cordially except Cassius, who stood and greeted him personally.

"Hello again Ramirus." Cassius said, reaching out slowly to pat the young mans shoulder. He noticed the small guard in the entryway and made sure to smile. He meant no mischief. "I couldn't resist inviting myself- Marcus is married to my sister after all. She is over there, chatting with the other wives. I saved you a seat."

Ramirus, surprised to see Cassius, smiled knowing full well the tables had now turned. With his left hand Ramirus signaled his guard Cassius to step back by the door. "Thank you," he said while taking his seat. Ramirus slid the chair in a bit and began to speak.

"Gentlemen thank you for meeting with me. I can’t tell you the great honor it is to be sitting at a table with such venerable men. All of you here are men my father trusted and called..." Ramirus turned to Cassius with a smirk, "...His friends."

Moravius nodded, and Tullio spoke before him. "Indeed, Sillius was a good friend--"

"He would be happy to know you're here with us. Will you be staying in the city to attempt time in the Senate?" Moravius cut in.

"I was asked to come by Imperator Vitellius he has some things he'd like me to take care of for him and I thought what a better time to get my house in order and reach out and forge new bonds." Ramirus took a sip of the wine. "I will tell you now esteemed Senators although I am young in years I am not in wisdom. Rome is at cross roads and the people suffer the most, I wish to aid in ending that suffering. This party stood for the people, but with the deaths of some of her champions the party has slid in power- I believe I can help restore it to its former glory."

Losto tipped his glass toward Ramirus. "You speak of the Populares then? Indeed, we've been a stable party with influence pouring out of our ears. You are young, Ramirus. Maximus Dio liked your father, and we liked Maximus Dio. I don't think you need to try very hard to get our ear."

Cassius leaned back and looked at Ramirus, continuing where Losto left off. "In saying that though, what is it Raeus wished you do take care of?"

Ramirus sat back in his chair focusing his attention on Cassius. “He is the Imperator- I do not ask why I just do as I am ordered. He sent word to me in the east that he would like me to accompany his entourage to Rome. My sword is his to do with as he wishes when he gives an order, I will follow it."

Ramirus smiled and continued before anyone else could speak. "I know my father is besides himself in the after life for my choice in allegiance. But the old wars are done and as the key members of the Populares party and in the Senate, it would be in the best interest of this group to throw all their support behind Imperator Vitellius. Now I harbor no ill will towards Princeps Daia; What know of him he is a good and honorable man. But the wolves ARE circling."

Cassius nodded, and Tullio spoke up. "We know how Sillius was. He was moderate in most things, but those days are over. We have wolves at one door and a chance for glory at the next. How long have you been in Rome, Ramirus?"

Moravius extended his hand as he spoke, "What do you know of this current situation?"


"Not nearly enough.” Ramirus said. “I’ve only been here a few days. News was hard to come by in the east. We had Persians crawling all over us like roaches. What I do know is Daia doesn’t have the loyalty of the army. No Emperor can rule without the loyalty of the army. From what I hear the senate is split on who to support: Raeus or Daia."

"The senate is hardly split." Cassius stated. "It is almost universally agreed that he is a key problem during these times. Him, and though it pains me to say it, Decius Lucius Verus. Much has been done by leading members of the Senate to mediate and find compromise for peace--"

"Though until granting Raeus special Imperium, Princeps Daia has been nothing but trouble it seems." Tullio continued.

Ramirus picked up some bread, tearing a small piece off and placing it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. "Then I am at a loss as to why now since Raeus has been given Imperium Daia hasn’t been asked to step down? I don’t think Raeus wants blood shed so killing him is out, but some one should have the courage to formally request he step aside." Ramirus paused for moment. "In the interests of peace."

"The grant to Raeus is temporary. I think it was meant to appease Lucius Verus until those involved could get Daia to see the truth of things." Losto said. "...Perhaps, someone should speak out."

"Forgive me Senator, but perhaps the senate should speak up. If Daia is such a problem, is leaving him in power the way to go? Would not my general make a better imperator?"

"It isn't that simple." Cassius said. Tullio and Moravius nodded. "Traditions and safety are necessary. How could we remain strong if we just simply let the man with the strongest army dictate who leads? More is at stake than a war."

Ramirus turned his head and looked at each of the men. His inexperience in matters other than war blocked him from seeing the Senator’s point of view. "The fates play with men like children play with dolls. If Verus was to defeat my general then the man with strongest army will dictate who leads with or with out your say. Traditions aside, swords will dictate who leads this empire."

Moravius looked frustrated. "That may be, but we'll be damned to let yet another tyrant tell the city and the empire what's what. Are you a Raeus man, Ramirus- or are you for Daia and Terpus?"

Ramirus tapped his finger on the table. "I serve Rome, Lucius, but I am bonded by sacred oath to Raeus."

"Many of us feel Rome's best interest is Raeus, so this is indeed good news." Tullio said.

Cassius nodded, "Raeus will most likely speak to Princeps Daia himself as soon as possible."

Ramirus gulped back some wine. "Well if Raeus is Rome’s best interest then I suggest we wait till the time is correct then give Raeus our total support. That is the best way for us to regain prominence in the senate."

Ramirus lifted his glass in toast, the other men did the same. "To the party, to the future of Rome."


Written By: Sillius Ramirus Flavus with RP from Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Ferus Juventas

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

132 AD

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 00:06:27 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11313 === Northern Gallia Cisalpina, Martius 132 AD ===

The slow rhythmic movements of the trotting horse had a calming effect Decius Lucius Verus found it difficult to describe. He had always been at home on horseback. His father had been a talented cavalry officer and as a result, the family had been the proud owner of two horses. An impressive achievement considering the family had been in somewhat dire financial straits. Lucius held only a few memories of his father. He had often been away on military campaigns and even when he was home, his mind seemed to have been occupied elsewhere. Most of the moments Lucius remembered they had shared together revolved around his father teaching him how to ride and passing on his knowledge of cavalry tactics. He would sometimes vividly describe the nature and details of the charge. The low rumble that grew into a thundering roar as thousands of horses galloped together. The impact of the charge on the enemy’s lines as it cut in deep and mired itself in deadly combat.

Lucius was unsure whether he would describe those moments with his father as happy but they had certainly inspired him. Still, he had secretly held a modest degree of contempt for his father. He had never really been able to figure out why. By all accounts, his father had been a good man. Committed to his duty. And yet he never rose above Tribune. Never fought to rid the family of debt. He merely fought for his duty and personal honour. Was that not something to be admired? Of course it was. Why then did he often think back at his father with contempt? It was a mystery he had never quite been able to settle with himself and one of the few things that nagged him on occasion.

As he followed the path out of the forest a beautiful green valley spread out in front of him. Even with the natural beauty of the place, an idyllically situated villa seemed to command your attention. Beautifully situated in a low-lying valley at the foot of the Alps, it had originally been commissioned by a rich Patrician who since went bankrupt. Lucius had first seen it while on his way to take up his command in Germania and found its idyllic location to be perfect. There was a certain sense of peace and tranquillity in the air. It provided a refuge and a safe haven where his daughter Julia could grow up in peace. The surrounding landscape was idyllically beautiful with a clear stream running down from the mountains and through the verdant green fields, until it cut deep into a nearby forest.

Due to its relative isolation away from the main road to Rhaetia, security had not been a priority and there were no walls or security measures to speak of. Instead, priority had been given to the beautiful architecture of the villa itself in an effort to make it blend in with the surrounding environment. The villa itself only had one floor but it was spread out across a wide area. Vines and other plants grew along the walls giving it an organic feel. There was a beautiful garden in the atrium where various fruit trees had been planted along with running water redirected from the mountain stream. A small range of exotic birds was kept in a series of aviaries. Lucius had mostly acquired them for Julia’s sake. She had seemed comfortable around them, almost as if they were both part of the same world.

Julia. His thoughts rested with her for a moment. She was now fourteen years old. At the age of ten he had sent her away to be enrolled in the Vestal colleges. He still felt a small tinge of doubt at his decision. Had he done the right thing? Surely life as a Vestal Virgin would afford her stability and security that he could not give her. As a Vestal she would not suffer for any decision or mistakes he might make. She had not been overly happy at the prospect herself. She had often begged him to let her stay with him. He had found it difficult to argue with her. When she wrapped her little arms around his waist and cuddled up against him, he felt his defences crumble. She was among the lights of his life. How could you not love her? Even at her young age her beauty was apparent to anyone. Her eyes were a deep hazel brown and had an entrancing nature to them, which was difficult to place. They also revealed a keen and cunning intellect that her father had certainly never possessed. She spoke Greek fluently, which was more than he could. Her chestnut hair was long and had a near silky quality. Her features were all perfectly shaped to accommodate one another. From the smooth curves of the cheekbones to her slender neck. No limb was longer than the other. Because of his decision to enrol her in the Vestal colleges, he had tried to make sure her upbringing at the hands of various friends and tutors had prepared her for the position as much as possible. After she had left, the villa had been essentially empty for a few years, inhabited by the staff of slaves and with occasional friends dropping by to stay for a few nights before they went on their way. Now his wife Flaviana Vaeya Ianuarina and their twin-sons Tiberius and Cassius occupied the villa and life had returned to it again.

As the horse trotted down the slope of the hill towards the villa, he noticed a commotion had started to stir. People ran around between each other, as if they were unsure of what to do. No doubt, the news of the Emperor’s bounty had reached the estate and caused great anxiety. The sudden appearance of Roman soldiers would no doubt be seen as alarming. As the horse crept into the front-yard, his suspicion was confirmed by the nervous glances of the slaves he passed. Slaves he had not seen before. He dismounted carefully and gently patted the mare on the side of her neck. She leaned her head in towards him and nudged her nose against his face. Horses were among his favourite things in the whole world. He found them endlessly fascinating and beautiful as well. They moved with a grace that seemed to be from another world and they were often loyal companions. He thoroughly enjoyed his morning riding trips. They were a nice distraction and often provided peace of mind to man who seldom had any. Unlike most others, Lucius did not regard riding as a means to subjugate the horse’s will to his own and enforce dominance. He regarded it as a form of cooperation between the animal and himself. Only when you knew each other could you put trust in one another. On the battlefield that trust was tried to its fullest extent. Many of the popular images of cavalry tactics were inaccurate. Horses were not some easily controllable entity that simply performed their owners’ bidding. They were intelligent and independent. There were literally hundreds of things on the battlefield that could spook a horse and make it turn around and flee. To avoid that you needed to have its trust. Lucius had often seen horses abandon their riders or throw them off in the heat of battle and realised that importance. It was somewhat surprising how few others shared the same philosophy and how many still sought to dominate them.

Finally, one of the slaves seemed to recognise him and stormed inside to inform Vaeya of his arrival. Behind him, his contingent of 8 soldiers from the Legio VII Hadriana dismounted as well. They all glanced around the valley, wide-eyed and impressed. The force of spring only served to enhance its beauty. Lucius took off his helmet and put it under his arm. The plumes brushed against his skin and tickled a bit. Vaeya finally came out, her hands covering her mouth as she saw him. He gave a cocky smile as he took a step towards her. Without saying a word she ran towards him and threw her arms around his neck. The slaves started to lead the horses away towards the stables. It was a modest building only housing about 3 horses, but there was room for more and Lucius had plans of expanding it. Possibly even becoming a breeder. But that sort of thing required large investments and financial dealings often made his head hurt. He simply preferred to buy and be done with it. Vaeya wept as she whispered his name and they kissed. Her taste was sweet. Reminiscent of blackcurrant berries. Just like he remembered. Slightly surprised, he returned the kiss until she pulled away hesitantly. The leather cuirass dug into his back slightly. He was nearly always in uniform. Even in private gatherings. To him the uniform represented what and who he was. He nearly always felt uncomfortable wearing anything else.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Just happy to see you.” As she spoke her eyes wandered towards the ground as if she was afraid to look at him.

“So I see,” he grinned. “but I’d rather like to know why you won’t look at me? What are you afraid of?” He moved his hand to her chin as he posed the question and gently nudged it upwards to force her to look at him. A small tear formed in the corner of her left eye. She moved a hand to gently stroke his right cheek and rested it at the long thin scar, which ran down his face.

“It’s just…” she began, before she had to stop and pull herself together. “All that’s been happening… I’ve only heard rumours. I heard the Emperor killed Iovinianus-- That you assembled the army and marched on Rome in direct defiance of his orders. I understand why you did it but… I heard he ordered the deaths of you… and us… Has he gone mad? I heard he had mustered an army to fight you… I was so worried… That you… That you wouldn’t…” she stopped, unable to finish the sentence. “It was horrible. Please, Lucius. Don’t ever do that again.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she gazed up at him with a pleading look. Despite the plea in her eyes her back was straightened and she seemed assertive with a hint of anger. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck. He simply wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

“Silly goose,” he said as he stroked a hand through her auburn hair. He leaned down to kiss her lightly on her forehead. “I don’t plan on dying yet.” She sighed and leaned up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything as a minute went by. Vaeya simply let him hold her close. She felt his fingers play with the ends of her hair and gently caress the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and listened to him breathe by her ear. She had been angry with him. Even if there was little else he could have done. Angry that he had taken such a risk. Angry that he had put herself and their children at risk. Angry at how powerless she felt. That she could do nothing but sit here at the villa and wait for the most terrible news. Yet, she felt all that anger ebb away as steadily as had it never been there in the first place. It was impossible to stay mad at Lucius Verus. It was like he always knew exactly what to say and do to make you feel better. You always felt safe with him. Even when a situation was at its most desperate, you could just curl up against him and he would protect you. No matter what. It was one of the reasons he was so easy to love. She paused. Love… Did she love him? No, not quite yet. Yet, she could not help but feel that she was steadily falling in love with him. It stung a little as she thought of Agrippina whom she still missed terribly. She missed the intimacy and confidence they had shared. Whatever happened their love would always hold a special place in her heart.

Still, Lucius was so much different than his reputation. That of the brutal, ruthless warrior. When he was with her, he was so gentle. Soft-spoken. It was like the man she knew and the man she had heard about were from two different worlds. He rarely spoke of his campaigns when he was with her and never about politics. Almost like his life with her was a sort of haven. They only engaged in pleasantries and interests. Especially horses. He took great interest in the work she had done with Ducissa Mariniara in Belgica and encouraged her to invest the finances of his own estate in similar ventures. He had given her free reins, which had been a little overwhelming. She hoped that he would confide in her. That they might share what she shared with Agrippina. And yet, they had only known each other a few months before he had gone off to Britannia. Perhaps such thoughts were idiocy. Still, they remained in her head and provided comfort. Finally, he nudged her out in front of him and wiped away her tears.

“Now let’s see a smile, eh?.” He held her close once more as he kissed her gently on the mouth. When he pulled away, he gave her a soft smile, which she returned before she turned around to walk back towards the villa. As she walked she turned her face back towards and spoke.

“Many things have changed Lucius. Wait until you see the boys. I had to get news slaves to help out with things around the house and the grounds. If we can, I want…” As she spoke, his eye followed the swaying motions of her hips as she walked and he found himself smiling, the sound of her voice steadily growing into the distance. He glanced away from her and out across the valley as he stepped up to follow her inside. He had to admit he had missed this place.

====

A faint breeze swept through the bedroom as Decius Lucius Verus lay still in bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could not sleep. So many thoughts, so many visions forced themselves at his mind. It gave him a headache. He heard the constant squabbling of the senators like a flock of wild geese run amok. He heard the words of his friend and brother Iovinianus Vallentinus linger in his mind. He saw the images of the men under his command. Men whose fates now rested with him. He closed his eyes and tried his to purge his mind of thoughts as he took in a deep breath. To simply exist in the moment. Why did all this come now? Perhaps it was because this was the first time in the past few months he had actually stopped to pause. Relax. His mind drifted towards Britannia and Verctissa. He missed her. Longed for her. Strange. He had not felt like that before. His eye narrowed as he tried to think of a reason. What it was about her that made her so different? He had a good, loving wife lying next to him. Yet Verctissa was the one who lingered in his thoughts. That indefinable connection they shared still seemed to be there, even now that they were apart.

The wind brushed against his skin from the balcony outside and brought with it that fresh clear smell, which always followed the rain. He breathed in and allowed it to fill him up. It helped. Slowly, he felt his mind fall at ease. His moment was interrupted when Vaeya noticed he was awake and turned towards him in the bed. Her hand ran down his chest in a slight caress. She paused at the enormous scar in his chest. A scar left there by a sword that had betrayed and nearly killed him. She had only heard the rumours of what had happened with the Equites Singulares. He had never spoken of it himself. When she had first seen him naked, the scar had frightened her somewhat. It almost had an unnatural quality. Like no normal person could have survived such a wound. Yet, Lucius walked and spoke as if it did not affect him at all. She kissed him softly on the chest by the scar and trailed her kisses up his chest and to his neck. He leaned his head back towards his pillow, as her head hovered above his and she kissed him on the mouth. They closed their eyes and allowed themselves to linger in the moment before she finally withdrew and stared down at him. Her amber-coloured eyes seemed to glitter in the dark.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked as her hand trailed down his cheek in a gentle caress and rested at the scar on the right side of his face. He gave her a slight smile in reply.

“Looks that way.” His hand moved up to brush against her face and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against his touch. When she opened her eyes, she glanced down at him with a serious look.

“Lucius…” she began and then hesitated, unsure of whether she should continue or not. He eyed her curiously as he gently slid his hand to the back of her neck. She mustered up the courage to continue. “Do you love me?” The question lingered in the air. He glanced away, unprepared for the question and his hand slid back onto the bed. He seemed tense and uncomfortable. Her eyes lingered on him waiting for an answer. Finally, he looked back up at her.

“I care about you Vaeya. A lot. I want to see you happy. You deserve it.” He meant it. No, he didn’t love her. But then, he had never really loved anyone-- At least not in the sense that love was always portrayed in the Greek tragedies and plays. He cared about her. She was a soothing constant in what was otherwise a maelstrom of chaotic and often conflicting emotions. He knew he could depend on her. Lean on her if he needed to. He did want to see her happy and he would do what he could to see that happen. Perhaps she had deserved a better husband. Someone who could be faithful to her. Someone who could love her. Then again, who was to say that he couldn’t love her? Perhaps it would come in time. Still, part of him found it difficult to believe that.

“Then promise me something,” she said, biting her lip as if she was afraid to ask. “When all of this over… When Raeus Vitellius Honestus is made Emperor, when Decius Daia is gone…” She leaned down closer to him and looked him straight in the eye. “Ask Honestus to let you stay in Rome. Settle down. You have done enough for Rome. You have given her your life, your service. You have made choices when no one else wanted to. No one could ask for more.” She cupped his head in her hands and held it gently to keep his gaze as he tried to glance away, once again uncomfortable with the subject.

“What would you have me do? Become a farmer?” He gave a slight laugh. What did she want from him? To go against his nature? Turn away from the battles and conflict that lured him so? Abandon his service when it might be needed the most? How could he? He was a son of Bellona. Not Ceres. She shook her head and gave him a serious look as if she refused to joke on the matter. She seemed to take the matter very seriously.

“No. Speak with Honestus. See if he cannot give you some sort of appointment in Rome. Perhaps he can make you Consul and let you help establish his rule? He will need all the friends and allies he can get.” She stroked his cheek gently as he gave a snort of contempt.

“Me? Consul? Politics?” The idea was preposterous. Him? A politician? What would be next? Decius Daia fighting in the arena? But she kept her grip on his head, forcing him to look into her pleading eyes. She meant it. She really did. Where did all this come from? Vaeya wasn’t sure herself. It wasn’t so much that Lucius was a soldier or that his duties required him to be away from home years at a time. No, it was the constant risks he took. Probably more than any other General in Rome. Sooner or later they would catch up to him. She knew that. He probably knew it as well. Yet, she did not want to see it happen.

“Please Lucius… For me… How better to help Honestus than to stand at his side when he needs you the most? Won’t you at least consider it? For me? We need you… I need you… I’ll go mad roaming about this house worrying about you.” A single tear flowed down her cheek. Lucius sighed. How could he say no? She was the niece of Divus Tiberius Persicus. A man he would have followed to the gates of Hades and back. Didn’t he owe it to him to do whatever he could to see his niece happy? Aside from that, he felt a twinge of guilt for putting her and the children at risk. He had certainly never thought that Daia would be brazen enough to ask for their deaths. Yet, he had continued anyway in spite of that action. What other choice had there been? Could he really suppress his nature? Could he change? He doubted it. Still, he felt he owed her to try at very least. She deserved that much. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Very well. I will try.” He flashed a brief smile as he spoke and her face seemed to light up. She leaned down to kiss him again and he felt her climb on top of him. He felt her skin rub against his own. As his hands ran down her spine and they kissed, the thoughts and worries of the promise he had just given drifted away. They only had a few days before he had to return to the Northern Army. Before he returned to the world of weighty decisions and the fate of an Empire hanging in the balance. Better that these days be a refuge at least. Better that they make the most of it.


Written By: Decius Lucius Verus

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

132 AD








Sat, 07 Jun 2008 20:53:08 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11311 “This is too much!” Minurus shouted, tugging at the clean and ornate robes being tailored to fit him. He was standing on a block of wood as an old man and two seamstresses cut and stitched the cloth draped over him. Minurus kept fidgeting. He had never seen such clothing, let alone worn any. He had arrived to the palace only that morning, and right away he was being tended to.

Auna had her arms wrapped across her chest watching, happy for Minurus and concerned at the same time. She watched from nearby, thinking about what the sudden treatment meant. “It’s what he wants, boy. Just accept a gift! You need to realize what a gift he is to us, to have washed up on our shore! Quit your whining and stand still!”

“Yes, stand still.” Commanded the elder tailor. Minurus huffed with a glare toward Auna and then resumed his gaze out of a window just before him. They were in a large gathering room on the second level of Lucius Tacitus Vitellius’s Proconsular residence in Equestris. It was such a striking contrast to what they were used to back in their village that it took both Minurus and Auna some time to believe that they weren’t going to be enslaved.

Minurus gazed out of the window onto the city below. The hot summer sun caused the tiles rooftops to look animated under the heat, something he had never seen before. The city was vast, sprawling out over small hills along both sides of a wide river. Numerous bridges crossed the mossy green waterway, linking the wide paves roads that traversed the central hispanian metropolis.

Ten days had passed since Carus Valens Julianus stumbled into the small village beneath the Lusitanian bluffs, returning to Equestris with Minurus and Auna. As he stood there in front of the window, Minurus couldn’t have been more fascinated.

===

After Tacitus had remembered everything, he became eager to return to Equestris. For all he knew, there could be a new Proconsul and everything could be different- and he hoped he was wrong. He convinced the village to let Auna come with him, as his revered guest, and Minurus didn’t hesitate when asked. Auna was hesitant to go, since she had lived her entire life on the little crescent shore and had known nothing else- except Dubertici.

They left the village the morning after Valens’ arrival. Tacitus had no belongings in Auna’s hut, and everything she or Minurus wished to take fit in one saddlebag. Valens gave up his horse for Tacitus to ride, and he walked alongside Auna and ahead of Minurus up the steep trail leading out. The whole village looked up from below and, tearfully, waved goodbye. Few thought the worst for their beloved healer, and most were excited that such a blessing washed up on their shore.

By nightfall that day they were in another small village, where they took lodging at an inn and acquired extra horses for Auna, Minurus and Valens. There weren’t many other guests at the inn that night, so when Tacitus was asked by Valens to tell his tale as they all sat around the fire in the inn’s dining hall, every guest was in attendance alongside the guard of Valens. Tacitus was hesitant. He was still remembering how to act, or how he did act, as Proconsul. Telling stories though felt right though, as if he was accustomed to speaking to groups of people.

“I woke up in a hut,” He began. He looked at Auna, who sat next to Minurus who sat next to Tacitus in front of the fire. Auna smiled, nervously. “This woman’s hut- her name is Auna. She took me in from the cold pebbles of the shore and nursed me back to health. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there, and all anyone could tell me was that there was a great storm the night before.”

“When you went after those pirates,” Valens thought out loud, half reminding Tacitus.

Tacitus nodded, “I only remembered that the night you arrived. I was content living in the village. They loved me and I grew to love them- and Minurus here, well, he was my first friend amongst the men of the village.”

Minurus smiled wide when he heard his name. His latin wasn’t any good, so he couldn’t readily understand what his friend Dubertici was saying. The soldiers and guests in the group looked at him and smiled, all friendly and put Minurus at ease- Auna too.

“He taught me to clean fish, set hooks and mend nets.” Tacitus laughed, looking at his still dirty hands, “I am your Proconsul yet I smell of fish and still wear their blood!”

Everyone laughed. The room was warm with the heat of the fire, and with their newly-recovered Proconsul’s friendliness. The entire room was relaxed from the heat and the beer they were drinking, but it wasn’t entirely that. Tacitus had a new demeanor about him that set people at ease. A humility that felt new to him, and was new to those who remembered him.

“I’m sure the misses can scrub that off of ya when you get back to her,” A random man said, laughing with a buddy; Tacitus shook his head ‘yes’, hoping it to be true.

“I hope I still have a misses!” He jested, looking at Valens.

Valens shrugged and smirked at Tacitus, “Well sir- she did assume your duties as Proconsul. She couldn’t have found the time to find a new husband yet!”

Tacitus lost his smile, and his subdued the humor with the rest of the crowd. Of course he had thought about Flavian Vespa this whole way from the village to the inn, but he hadn’t thought about what his disappearance meant to for her. Was she ok? How was she dealing? What was she doing? Suddenly his mind was a fuzzy clutter of questions and frantic imaginings of her situation. She was a Varro, and had wild Belgican blood in her, so he assumed she could stand on her own in tight situations. His thoughts were cut off by a voice:

“Proconsul Vespa Varro, sir?” A soldier said. Valens looked to the guard and then to Tacitus, who was brought back to the group with the question. He continued, “Sir she assumed role as Proconsul not a week after you were declared lost at sea. She has governed Hispania with a strong will and an iron fist- nobody dared object, and nobody has suffered for her rule either.”

Tacitus was confused, and excited. His wife, a governor? Why hadn’t Rome acted against it, she was a woman after all. He smiled again, though tenuously. He stood up and looked at the man, and the crowd before him. “You’re saying soldier, that my wife- My beautiful wife, daughter of Divus Pompeius, is governing this region on her own?”

“On her own, sir, yes.” He replied. “She subdued the Arevaci with the help of the Rationalis Julianus, she raised a handful of auxiliary cohortes to offset the Consular legion being called away and she was the governor when citizenship was granted to Hispania province.”

“I seemed to have picked the wrong eight months to go missing!” Tacitus bellowed, laughing heartily. The fact that the Consular legion was called away slipped his mind immediately, and he wasn’t too concerned about his wife any more- she had obviously done well enough without him. “I suppose I should let her carry out the rest of the term then, aye?”

“No, no!” a few other men shouted, laughing. Tacitus walked around the fireplace and paced back to his seat, and back again as he said, “I am back, and without Valens here I may have been stuck as a fisherman in some undiscovered village for the rest of my life. Not that I would have been entirely unhappy...”

He looked to Minurus and Auna, who sat contentedly side by side, and smiled at them. “If any of you,” Tacitus said to the assembled inn patrons before him, “see these two people ever again, they are to be respected and revered. They saved your Proconsul’s life, and gave him a new one. Now... Who wants to hear more stories?”

A quick applause and clinking of wooden and metal drinking cups met his question with the answer he hoped for. He sat down again and, after a healthy gulp of beer himself, continued retelling his eight months on the shore. Tacitus was animated and excited to verbally recount his experiences for his first audience.

Valens made a special effort to nip, throughout the night of stories, any reaction or comments that alluded to the current situation in Italia. He had intentionally avoided filling Tacitus in on the current events while he was gone, and hoped he could get him back into the Proconsular palace before he learned anything. The stories lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and the whole time everyone was awake and enthralled. Never before had they known a man to disappear at sea and reappear months later alive, and never had they been so close to a Proconsul.

===

Nine days later after traveling along the highway that led from Pertinaxus, Lusitania to Equestris, Hispania, Lucius Tacitus Vitellius was back home. The city gates were swung open upon the orders of Valens, and from the main road they took Tacitus could see his old home, built nearly a century ago by his grandfather. It sat just below the top of a hill toward the east end of the city and looked down upon the populace like a guardian.

Nobody on the streets recognized Tacitus, and he wasn’t surprised. He had bathed at the inn nine days prior, but his clothes were still ratty from the village and nine days on horseback through the warm dry lands of the region left him a bit dusty. The people recognized Valens though, and Tacitus took note.

They reached the Proconsular residence within half an hour, without stopping at all. Valens spoke to a small group of guards at the entrance and seconds later the entire group was allowed entrance. Tacitus remembered it all so clearly, and though it was technically his house and he was technically the overlord of everyone in it, he followed a few paces behind Valens.

Valens slowed as they walked through a marble-tiled hallway and turned his head back to speak to Tacitus. “Ok sir, Vespa is out with the rest of your family in the gardens above the palace. We’ve announced to nobody that you’re here and safe, so I’m leading yo... Excuse me sir, I would like to suggest we make to your old chambers where you can draw a bath and clean up, find an old set of robes to wear and prepare yourself before I inform Vespa of you–“

“Good plan, Valens.” Tacitus said. He looked around him, refreshing his memory with all he saw. Tapestries, statuary, frescoes and tiled mosaics all became familiar again as they made their way through the palace. “Where, again... Oh dear...”

“Up these stairs, sir, to the right are the bedrooms. I’ll lead you to your old room.” Valens smiled, happy to help. “It will be a wonderful surprise for Vespa I know.”

Another minute of walking, up the stairs and down another hallway, got Tacitus to his old bedroom. Valens stood silently in the doorway of the bath room as Tacitus looked around, and then began to undress. Once naked, he turned to Valens and said, “A cold bath is what I’m used to... so there is no need to fetch hot water.”

Valens nodded, taking note of Tacitus’s trimmed physique. The last time he saw him he was on the slim end of portly, with a robust pair of cheeks and a healthy appetite. Apparently the eight months in the fishing village had taken their toll on his body fat. He took a step back and said, “Very well. I will go see to Vespa and expect to see you out in the gardens very soon.”

Tacitus nodded once, smiling nervously. “As scared as I am to see them, Valens, I will hurry.”

“Don’t be scared, sir.” Valens said, expressionless. He understood how going through what he did would make Tacitus a bit nervous. “You are the lost bear, and you are Lucius Tacitus Vitellius. I am sure a few splashes of cold water will help you find confidence in that again.”

===

Valens walked briskly away from the room and back down the stairs where his guard had held place with Minurus and Auna. He looked them up and down with disdain before ordering to his guard, “Take these two upstairs as well, to one of the spare rooms on the south end and clean them up. Get a tailor in here immediately and fit them both with new clothes. Tacitus would want it, and I don’t want Vespa seeing her husband for the first time in eight months with two peasants in tow.”

The guard nodded and, speaking Lusitanian clearly enough, escorted the two guests upstairs just as ordered. As Valens walked away he watched out of the corner of an eye one guard run outside the palace, clearly for the tailor he ordered. Valens walked quickly and eventually sped up into a jog through the palace toward the eastern exit where he knew the family would be out in the gardens. Sure enough, as he burst through the great oak doors, he saw them assembled on the vast palace lawn.

He marched up the small hillside the led from the doors to the lawn toward the group, through towering leafy trees and mounds of lavender. Vespa was standing among them, resplendent in a white dress with purple and gold stitching- the gold glistened in the sunlight of the day. Valens had taking an affection to her during Tacitus’s absence, but never acted on it. He was content, and now forced to be, with simple fantasy.

“Domina!” He shouted, reaching the top of the hill where it flattened out. The whole of the family was there for picnic, including the palace refugees from Rome who had arrived a few months prior. Vespa recognized him right away and excused herself to walk to him. She smiled cordially, but her eyes belied the peaceful expression. She was obviously concerned. “Vespa here is here.”

She gasped. One arm wrapped itself around her waist while the other rested on it with it’s hand covering her mouth. Her eyes began to water and she looked Valens dead on. A sob escaped from her bosom, caught by her hand. She sniveled and used the hand covering her mouth to wipe her eyes before a tear could fall. “You found him then? This isn’t you telling me you found his body or anything. He is actually here, in the house, alive and well?”

Valens nodded, looking past Vespa to be sure the rest of the family hadn’t overheard anything. He looked to her again. “Yes, Vespa. Tacitus is alive, but well I don’t know. He has slimmed to about half of what he was when he left, but I assure you his mind is all there. He is your husband still. I have him up in your room getting clean.”

“Oh! Uh...” She sobbed again, this time strong enough to shake her body. She gripped her mouth tight to muffle the sobs and her eyes were growing red with the tears forming. She had missed her husband so much, and she had taken on his role as Proconsul as a way to cope, and now he was back. She was relieved, and it was obvious how much. After a moment to collect herself, she said, “Stay here and keep them occupied, or keep them from coming after me. I need to see him first–“

“Of course.” Valens said, moved by her sudden display of emotion. He stepped aside, wanting to embrace her so bad. He didn’t, knowing he couldn’t. Vespa moved past him slowly, smoothing her dress. He said after her, “He is anxious.”

“I doubt more than I, Valens.” She said, without turning back. Valens sighed and turned away from her. He made his way toward the family still relaxing on the lawn and accepted their greetings sincerely, if not a bit uncomfortably. He wanted to be a fly on the wall when Vespa as reunited with Tacitus, but he knew his place.

===

Vespa walked slowly through the palace toward the stairway. Her sobs came frequently though she battled to keep them contained. Questions flooded her mind and mixed in a blur with memories of her husband and the thoughts and feelings of the whole ordeal. She was confused, excited and angry at the same time, and it all forced it’s way out through her tears. She kept wiping them away, knowing it would make her eyes red and puffy. She wanted to be beautiful for him, having not been gazed upon by him in over eight months, but she didn’t want to be a fountain for him either.

Up the stairs she went slowly, holding the cool marble banister for support. Nobody was about in the hallways above or below her, and it helped her nervous excited condense into her chest, making her heart beat rapidly beneath her bosom. She breathed quickly and more shallow the closer she got to her room, and imagined what he would look like now. Valen’s said he was thinner, but was he gaunt? He was alive, but was he missing limbs, or teeth? She shut it all out as she reached the doors to her room.

Vespa stood there for a few moments that felt like eternity, her hand hovering just above the handle on the door. She could turn away and wait, and hide from her fear amongst the family outside until he came out himself, or she could run to him like she wanted to and let it all out against his chest. With a quick breath of courage, she twisted the handle and thrust the doors open, exposing the room to her sight. There before her, standing in an old blue robe, stood her husband.

She gasped with a sob at his sight, and he looked at her and smiled.



Written By: Ferus Juventas
Edited By: Ferus Juventas

132 AD

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 17:50:27 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11307 “Baetus Dubertici!” the old woman called in her shrill and penetrating voice from within her cottage. She came running out as best she could, holding a net she had just finished mending and a small bucket of hooks. She stopped and huffed at his feet, and thrust the goods on him. “You forgot these, idiot. Bring back a good catch or I’ll keep you outside for the night.”

The man scowled, but nodded silently. He was used to the old bat’s infernal abuse. She was older than he could imagine, with dark, tan skin and wrinkles that could hide all the gold in the Roman Treasury. He scanned her entire face, analyzing all her crags and scars, as well as her high cheek bones and crystal clear blue eyes. Her hair was a dazzling white and always pulled back, and her clothes were always shabby- but also always clean. Her fisherman always admired her attempts to remain clean, despite her near-destitute surroundings.

He huffed and turned away from her, heading down to the shore where he would join the few other men of the village in casting nets into the surf to catch fish. He held the net tightly in his arms and hummed a tune he had learned when he first arrived to the village. The old woman taught it to him, and as abusive as she appeared to be, she had taken him in without question and cared for him since his arrival. He didn’t mind the mistreatment because it was equally shared with affection and mothering- an odd feeling. What he did mind, though, and thought about every day, was not knowing who he was- and how he got to be in the village.

Dubertici, as he came to be known, had arrived in the small Lusitianian village eight months prior after a sudden storm viciously cut across the open sea and slammed against the coast of Iberia. A few fishermen were down on the village shore the next morning, checking on their boats and other goods to see if any survived the battering, and saw the body of a middle-aged man lying naked face-down on the pebbly beach. Normally such an event would prompt a quick disposal of the body, but his appearance- short hair, fairer skin and feet and hands without calluses prompted them to carry the body to their matriarch-the old woman with which the stranger now lived.

Being the tiny village’s ‘healer’, the old woman could tell right away that this man was not dead- but he was close to that point. She chanted her inherited traditional verses of healing, and used what smudging techniques she could to settle his breathing and rouse him to consciousness. The fishermen who brought him to her small hovel lingered in awe under the doorway; they were always entranced by the woman’s ability to heal- and they were curious about the man from the sea.

That night, the night of his arrival, the stranger was still too weak to walk, and could barely muster a coherent sentence. The old woman ordered the men, and the rest of the village to leave her house alone until she announced the stranger was well enough to become acquainted. Nobody thought to leave the village for help of any kind- it was a difficult task to walk out, and unless a sailing ship docked offshore, the small fishing boats weren’t enough to handle sailing on the open sea. So, during that night when the stranger sat up on a crude cot and listened to the old woman talk to him in her native tongue (which he understood about every other word of, surprisingly to them both), he was given the name Baetus Dubertici- Blessed of Dubertici, their god of the sea.

For the next month Dubertici was taught more of their native tongue- which turned out to be a mix of Punic and Lusitanian. Thankfully most of the people in the village had a few basic words known in Latin. The month of learning how to act and work within the village went by quickly once he learned to communicate easily, and soon after he was allowed to fish with the rest of the men. He was taught how to cast nets, drop lines, guide the boats and, most importantly how clean the daily catch. It was obvious to everyone- and himself- that he didn’t do that sort of work before he came there, but he was a quick learner. It helped that he was also eager.

Often, however, over the months, Dubertici was found in contemplation behind his home. He had grown fond of a fragrant bush that grew back there and found that it relaxed him- and reminded him of something just out of his mental reach. There was nothing he could do to remember before his arrival except try, and he did just that. Occasionally he would glimpse memories, or ideas, but nothing ever stuck around and it usually left him more confused than before. It didn’t help that nobody in the village could answer his questions.

He eventually made bonds with his fellow villagers. One in particular, Minurus, had found the newcomer so interesting earlier on that he became attached like a bee to honey. Minurus was a younger man, in his early twenties. Minurus helped Dubertici make other friends, and fish about as well as the youngest of the children. The others laughed about his fishing skills to his face, but it was usually in jest. He would laugh with them as he pulled in the smallest catches and say, ‘I am old, I don’t need to eat as much as you!’

His age too was a mystery. He could only see his reflection in the still puddles of rainwater as they came, or rippled on the tide of the sea. He looked old to himself, but not as old as some men and women in the village. His hands were still smooth compared to the others, but like them his hair had grayed. He often asked himself if he was an old man, or if he was just the age before that. The old woman, whose name he learned early on to be Auna, often told him he looked to be about forty years in her village, which in his own thinking could have meant he was twenty where he came from.

As the days past for Dubertici, he continued to wonder about his past but let the desire to learn fade as he acquired more and more information about his new home. He enjoyed the communal living very much, and oddly enough that too felt familiar to him, much like the bush he enjoyed behind Auna’s hut. He would often spend time with other families around their cooking fires, listening to their stories and learning their history. He quickly learned legends of their gods- especially that of Dubertici, and greatly enjoyed learning their songs. Nobody in the village played instruments of any kind, but the tone and rhythm of their native singing style made up for that.

Dubertici eventually fell into a leadership role amongst the villagers. He has a natural drive to lead people, and organize things. When he learned enough of their language to talk in depth and detail, he learned of their social order and way of governing. They had no town leader, just Auna, and they had no money- just goods. Over time Dubertici organized a council of sorts consisting of the five eldest members of the village, including Auna, and helped set up rules of behavior. The villagers, who had for centuries just simply existed on this tiny seashore enclave, were excited, but slightly skeptical of his changes to their system. He had no idea where these ideas came from, but he ran with them as long as the people would accept them. Of course, none of these excused him from his fishing responsibilities.

The eight months in that tiny sea-faring enclave on the southwestern edge of Iberia went by with frequently less thought as Dubertici acclimated to the customs of the people. His social relationship became normal and while he still pondered who he was, and was often reminded of his differences, it became less of a concern. He had friends, and Auna had become family. His changes to the village social structure, and eventually its actual physical layout, had earned him great respect among the elders. He was home, and as if he had been one before, he was a leader.

His differences were less of a concern… that is, until one sunny morning in late spring when a band of visitors trekked down the bluffs surrounding the village. They first appeared at the flat crest of the surrounding rugged cliff top, and from below appeared to float down the face of the cliff as if suspended by the hand of a god. They had in reality found the elusive and almost always unnoticed entrance to the village below, which remained hidden from sight from above by the cliffs.

Most of the villagers were out in the dirt streets or down on the beach as soon as the sun was fully crested over their defensive backdrop of limestone cliffs. The small trail that connected their naturally defensible settlement ran steeply along the entire breadth of the rugged bluff, and ended just above the village center. Everyone stopped what they were doing when they heard the first few whacks and crumbling of stones from the cliffs, and looked toward the trail. Making careful headway down the treacherous path was a group of vividly dressed men riding horses- about a half dozen in all.

From where he stood on the shore below, Dubertici could see the trail over the village and watched with a faint recognition as the newcomers met solid ground and disappeared behind the pitiful backdrop of the village. He looked around to see what his fellow fishermen were doing; they had ignored the newcomers and continued fishing, or they hadn’t seen or heard them at all. Dubertici was curious, and more than that he felt a strange familiarity with the newcomers dress. Minurus brought him back to the task at hand by slapping a fresh fish against the back of his neck, startling him.

“Fish old man!” Minurus said, laughing as Dubertici wheeled around and wiped the slick from his neck.

“You’re digusting.” Dubertici said, trying not to laugh. He wiped the rest of the fish off his neck and asked, “How often to newcomers make it here?”

Minurus shrugged, “Only a handful of times that I can remember. It was a long while before you showed up anyway. Why?”

“You didn’t see them?” Dubertici, waved behind him and half-turned back toward the village. Minurus looked too and shook his head. A gust of blew by and whipped his hair around his face.

He pulled the hair out of his face and said, “No… I was fishing. Is someone here? Wait- I see, strange! Romans!”

“Romans?” Dubertici asked. Minurus’s had grown excited and it was contagious. Dubertici had heard the word before, mostly in reference to the long-over discussions about who he could be. “Let’s go see them then—“

“Good! I was going to say the same thing! I’ve never actually met one!” Minurus ran off, leaving Dubertici to walk. One thing he knew about himself, he was old. Too old to run for strangers. Especially too old to chase a youngster.

It only took just a minute to walk back to the village from the seashore, but once there, Dubertici was overwhelmed by the sight. In the large open space he created that was used for village gatherings stood a group of armed and adorned soldiers, dismounted from their horses. They were talking to the council of elders of the village- and Auna. He went unnoticed as he walked into the assembled group of villagers eager to see the visitors.

He pushed through to small crowd to get to Auna, this time followed by Minurus. He took in the faces of the Romans eagerly as he glimpsed them through the heads of his fellow villagers. One in particular seemed more familiar than the others, but he couldn’t place him. It was obvious that he was the leader of the group because he was doing all the talking. Surprisingly enough to himself, Dubertici could understand them. His surprise waned significantly when he remembered- and became surprised that he even forgot- that he could only speak Latin when he first arrived.

“I arrived about eight months ago,” He said as he stepped up next to Auna, answering the lead Roman’s question for her. She looked to him with sad eyes, as if he had done the one thing that could undo everything. He looked back to the lead Roman and was surprised by his expression. The man’s jaw lay slack, and his eyes were wide. He just stood there and looked at Dubertici, and then stuttered:

“Sir! By N-n-neptune! We have hunted and searched for you all these last eight months!”

Dubertici looked around, then to Auna, for something; Support? He didn’t know, but he felt compelled to continue. He stepped closer and positioned himself in front of the town elders, maintaining eye contact with the Roman. “I don’t understand. I am a castaway, taken in by these people. I am a fisherman. Look at these hands- I am no one deserving of ‘sir’.”

The Roman looked at Dubertici’s hands and saw that they were indeed calloused and stained with the blood of fish, but disregarded them. His eyebrows moved and his face expressed pleading. “No! Oh this is excellent! You are, you- You have to recognize me! I am Carus Valens Julianus! You fought with my brother Florianus against the Vascones and Lusones only a few years back. Sir- you are Proconsul Lucius Tacitus Vitellius!”

====

That night the Romans made camp in the open center of the village, and the villagers found themselves tucked away uncomfortably in their various houses. Many were confused, sad and worried about what this meant. No Roman had ventured into their settlement for, what they had collectively remembered, was nearly four generations, and now a small group of them came in claiming the villages most treasured resident was technically their governor- or king, or overlord. Only Auna made sense of it all, and did her best before night fell to calm the confusion and worry of her friends and family.

Dubertici lay uncomfortable on his cot during the night, tossing and turning with all the information flowing through his head. The night itself was cold, and a piercing sea breeze blew in and chilled the village, making sleep for him even harder. His restlessness opened the door for nightmares- and they came:


‘Dubertici was choking and flailing about in the cold water of the sea. It was dark everywhere except the glimmer of moonlight on the splashing waves around him. He thrashed frantically trying to keep afloat, but he kept going under. Once under for the fifth or sixth time he realized that his great thick bear skin was pulling him down, weighted down by its size.

His eyes bulged and his throat pained as his breath tried to escape while he quickly reached up to his clavicles and untied his cape. As soon as the knot was undone the current that rushed around him whisked it away and out of site. He kicked to the surface with ease and gasped for air, getting a mixture of spray and freezing air.

His eyes searched for any light or any ship, or anything to grab onto. He saw around him, too far to swim to, a handful of ships crashing into each other with shouts and the sound of metal against metal. He screamed for help and tried to swim toward the ships, but kept getting pulled under the stormy sea and pulled by the current farther and farther into the darkness away from the ships, until suddenly he was pulled under.’

Dubertici shot up from his cot in a cold sweat, panting for air and grabbing at his chest as if reaching for the knot to his cape. His memories flooded his brain and he realized his dream wasn’t a dream at all. Into the darkness he yelled, “I am the lost bear!”



Written By: Ferus Juventas
Edited By: Jupiter Optimus Maximus
AD 132

(For timeline purposes this takes place from early October 131 to Maius 132)











Thu, 05 Jun 2008 20:21:39 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11304 Princeps Senatus Actius Decius Daia sat in the Curia Hostilia. He exercised his right to speak first, and presented a proposal to the house:

“The army of Decius Lucius Verus has once again violated the integrity of Rome by ignoring the request of the Senate to immediately leave Rome. As he has no respect for Roman Law, Tradition, or Order, I am requesting of this body to declare Lucius Verus an Enemy of Rome. His continuous acts against the state, both directed towards the offices of emperor and the curia, are a testimony to his guilt. Rome is governed not by intentions but actions and right now his actions declare he deserves Damnatio Memoriae. Should other senators agree with this most Traditional view of Roman justice executed time and again against horrendous infractions such as his, then they should voice their words now.
And now I quote the words of another Roman, “As Romans, we must hold ourselves to the highest standard, our idols must be men of honor; our hero must be men of honesty. To betray so many of our forefathers… would be truly shameful.

Now the Senate must go through with the formality… to make sure that his crimes do not stain the toga of the statesman.’
Conscript Fathers, I must continue to bear evidence of actions against such men when a great statesman stated in these very halls words against another supposed patriot of Rome, ‘It has been brought to the Empire’s attention… not the compassionate patriot which we were led to believe. Thanks to recent testimony and letters… traitor to Rome.

While exiled in Alexandria, her only solace was the idea that one day she would MARCH ON ROME and rid the empire of the ‘evil snakes’ that ruined her life.’ What we have here is more than letters but actions of this wolf, this ‘snake’ of Rome. He and his men not only plan but have acted to ‘March on Rome and rid the empire’ of those they deem unworthy and responsible.

Finally fellow Romans, I bring to light yet another instance where our current situation is eloquently spoken by one of the greatest politicians of Rome’s history, ‘It has come to recent light that V. Vibius Varro is a devious traitor who headed a detailed plan to march on Rome and depose our emperor, Pertinax Veno.

I propose that V. Vibius Varro be stripped of all Consular and Senatorial status, stripped of all imperial titles, his name will be stricken from all senate texts and stripped of the protections of the Roman state, which will also be stripped from his immediate family. This includes A. Postumus Varro as he is V. Vibius Varros adoptive grandson.’ Has not Lucius Verus done the same thing in this instance? Has not Rome suffered enough from his clients and actions? Because his family is of honorable men, he is not to be excused his actions at this time. Therefore senators the burden of action is upon you. If you are loyal to Rome the solution is simple. However, if you fear your life and will sacrifice Rome at this time you will do as you have done and accept this man as the Senate once accepted Marius Vitellius.
Therefore, I offer the follow to be passed so that all of Rome may know the nature of our current rebel and his idealistic brethren.

Senatus-Consultm:

I. For crimes against the Majestatis of the State, Decius Lucius Verus is hereby declared an enemy of the Senate and People of Rome. All men who serve under arms with Decius Lucius Verus are likewise guilty of crimes against the Majestatis of the State.

II. The Senate hereby strips Decius Lucius Verus of his Senatorial status and all titles.

III. Decius Lucius Verus shall bear all consequences of the title Damnatio Memoriae.

IV. Due their status, the family of Decius Lucius Verus shall be immune from such charges unless it is found their actions merit such punishments.”


Murmurs followed the Princeps’ proposal. Aelianus Julius Vitellius spoke next. “I oppose this and wish to wait for the Imperator to make a decision on the matter,” he said in clear reference to Raeus Vitellius.

Tullius Cicero Julianus also voiced opposition. “Princeps Daia, with all due respect to someone of your position, I think you are dragging your personal vendetta against this man into the curia. Damnatio Memoriae to a man who is still alive is unrealistic. The implication that men who do not agree with you fear for their lives is a grave insult to the honored members of this hall that have fought courageously against your former Anulus Civitas partisans in the curia to defend our values and traditions. I ask that we await the arrival Imperator Raeus Vitellius.”

Decius Daia promptly responded. “Senator Julianus, the insult is the fact that this body has refused to treat this man in the same manner as all other men who have come before him with the same intentions and actions. This is no vendetta but upholding of the obvious precedent established by multiple men over multiple reigns. Perhaps your fight against the Anulus Civitus is your own vendetta, which has extended to me by my former relationship, and that is a shame upon you that you must now bear. As for the unrealistic nature of declaring Damnatio Memoriae, perhaps you should do some study of your history lessons, the Snake still breathed when these charges were place upon him. Raeus Vitellius is not the lone emperor of Rome and in the future I believe this body would be best served to remember that fact.”

Julius Vitellius continued his opposition. “Princeps Daia, perhaps you would be best served to remember that some in this august body no longer believe you are in a position to threaten any of us, no matter how veiled. Once again I must insist we wait on Raeus Vitellius, the man who will end this conflict.” Such bold statements against a sitting Princeps were highly unusual, but they reflect the diminished position of Decius Daia and his power in the eyes of Rome’s elite.

Crassus Sanius Piso, a Consilium member and Daia ally, critiqued Julius’ approach. “Senator, will you kindly adhere to Senatorial protocol and avoid making pejorative statements directed at our own Princeps Senatus?”

“I don't believe I made any pejorative statement at all, but I do apologize to you Senator Piso if that is how it sounded,” Julius responded.

Adrius Varro snickered loudly. “This is the one they want to make a Consul? The Senator insulting the Princeps and disobeying Senatorial convention? Hmm...interesting,” he declared from his seat.

By this point, Raeus Vitellius had arrived, entering the Curia Hostilia for the first time in years. He added his voice to the conversation: “Gentlemen, I find the very discussion of this issue divisive and totally unacceptable at this time. It's very mention pushes us to the verge of civil conflict that is still avoidable. Until I have returned from my discussions with Lucius Verus, I will not endorse or accept any measure along these lines.”

Helvius Augustus Vitellius agreed. “Well said Imperator Vitellius... This entire proposal is yet another attempt to provoke the enemy further, and destroy any attempt to negate the possibilities of a civil war.”

“I applaud the sound understanding of the situation expressed by Imperator Vitellius. I think it would be best also if we even encourage the peace process further, and suspend the consideration of potentially divisive proposals. And call for the appropriate reconsideration of the status of this proposal, for the sake of Roman unity and tranquility,” Maximus Tiberius Agrippa declared.

Adrius Varro responded with an impassioned speech. “Am I the only one who remembers what happened when we reached a 'peace agreement' last time!? Lucius Verus simply chose to march against Rome anyway? How can you people debate his treasonous activity, you sound as though you have more support for Verus than our own Princeps Daia! This is ridiculous! How can you people not see this as an obvious choice? It is not unprecedented, as the Emperor says in his introduction and it is wholly deserved. I don't understand how you can oppose this. You don't want to 'frighten' Lucius Verus...What sort of cowardice is this? Are you real Romans who cave at the demands of any threatening source? This is disgraceful.”

Marcus Justialus Pius, who had remained silent through the proceedings, countered one of the points made by Adrius. “I completely disagree with the assertion that Lucius Verus chose to march anyway in spite of the peace agreement. The peace agreement stated that Raeus Vitellius would become Emperor. When the current Princeps Senatus unexpectedly blocked the Comitiae from approving Raeus' elevation, the Senate's clear majority unfortunately could not follow through with the terms of the agreement. Therefore, we heard that Lucius Verus might begin marching on Rome. However, he has not yet approached the city and Raeus' arrival should deescalate the situation.”

Consul Gaius Probus temporarily suspended the debate by making it clear that he would not call for a division yet. Several additional – and less important - orders of business followed, and Raeus Vitellius departed.

Later in the day, the Consul declared a recess. Senators began leaving the Curia while others remained inside to discuss important issues among themselves. Princeps Decius Daia remained at his seat between the two curule chairs of the Consuls – one had been empty for weeks following the departure of Tetricus Vitellius.

Outside the forum, a group of twenty men in togas approached Senator Julius Vitellius. “You are under arrest for treason,” the leader announced to the Julius.

“Under whose authority?” the Senator asked, attempting to move away from the group.

“The Princeps, now come with me,” snapped the man, apparently a Praetorian.

“Wait, you will not touch me,” Julius responded, this time shouting. He began to run toward his sizeable guard contingent. But the apparent Praetorians in lighter, more flexible togas quickly seized Julius, who was encumbered by his more elaborate Senatorial toga and footwear. The men forced Julius to the center of their group, but they were themselves almost immediately surrounded by several dozen guards from Julius’ escort.

The arresting group commander realized that he was outnumbered – several of his younger soldiers seemed to panic. The officer, thinking quickly, drew a small dagger. “Stand back! If you interfere with this arrest, your master dies!”

But Julius Vitellius refused to submit peacefully and responded boldly with his own threat. “If you kill me you all die, you know that, right?” He stood up straight and thrust his chin forward, almost daring them to kill him.

The leader hesitated. He watched as more hostile men closed in around his group. Then he noticed the distinguished Consular and Praefectus Urbanus Tiberius Agrippa approach. “Release him,” demanded the Praefectus. “You have no justification for holding this honorable man.”

The group commander gritted his teeth. He knew that he would have to make a decision. He looked about him. Was this a bluff? But no… the potential enemies were too numerous. Dozens of additional Senatorial bodyguards could be spotted in the area, and most of them, the commander knew, would be unsympathetic to the arrest. Slowly he put away his knife. Then he turned and nodded to the two men holding Julius. They released him. The group immediately wheeled about and pushed through the circle of bodyguards, most likely seeking help. They were allowed to pass unmolested, and Julius and his escort moved quickly from the forum.

To be continue…
Thu, 05 Jun 2008 05:09:46 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11303 *Leaving the Senate chamber, Imperator Calidus Raeus Vitellius mounts the rostra in the forum to address the gathered masses.*

"Romans! Citizens of the Empire! My thanks for the warm welcome I have received upon my return to you - it has not gone unnnoticed. I stand before you today at a crossroads for our Empire, and where you yourselves will decide our future.

Let me assure you though, that Rome shall come under no threat! I will allow no army to enter this city once more intent on its destruction! The Vallite wolves are still Roman soldiers, and as your Imperator I shall ride north to speak with them, and preserve peace!

In return, I must ask for civil stability. As your leader, I request that you do not give into civil insurrection, for there is no good that shall come from it! A peaceful resolution is still within our grasp - allow myself and the Senate the time to resolve this situation.

Romans, we shall endure, for we always have. Know this, and know that I shall always defend you! Reservo Roma!"

*The Imperator steps from the rostra, and flanked by Praetorians, makes his way through the cheering crowd.* Wed, 04 Jun 2008 11:51:51 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11299 (I apologize, but I recently moved this weekend and for the remainder of the week have no internet and no PC so I can't work on scenarios so I am making an outline of events in the West that pertained to things I was working on so everyone is caught up for Maius)

Following the "Seeing in Black and White" scenario:

Flavius Iudicius chased Legio I Minerva and upon catching up to it, had the legion surrounded by his large cavalry force, preventing it from departing; and demanded a meeting with Legate Manus Daia. When no information was given, a heated argument erupted and Flavius threw out Manus back to his legion. Not having any information on Tetricus and his men and himself wanting blood launched an assault on the lone consular legion. His own army, which consisted of 4 legions, most of them hardened vets, easily overtook the lone consular legion and after giving a speech to the prisoners on how the legion had shamed itself in the past years and how it betrayed Vallentinus, (from their views), he had the private legions have every survivor of the legion executed; there were no survivors as the area had been cut off by the large amount of cavalry available to him. The bodies were, as the rumor stated, left to the open, some ways from the main highway. No standards were found. (This happened in Late Feburarius)

After this, word reached Flavius and his forces that Tetricus had raised a sizable force from cities in Central Gaul and so Flavius went to pursue him.

By Martius he had gotten to Tetricus and his force outside Hadria which is on the border of Gallia Lugdunenesis and Gallia Aquitina. Along the way looting and pillaging of all Sarian property was performed, no other property was touched and not all of it was attacked, only what they could.

The motley force that Tetricus formed was easily destroyed and Tetricus escaped into Hadria.

Before a siege could begin, however, Tetricus' wife, Caria Jaina Julianus who is also the sister of Florianus Julianus, came outside the main gates holding each of her young children, son and daughter, by each hand and she was accompained by her step-daughter as well. Jaina in a very fervent speech, shamed and belittled Flavius and the other Roman officers and Romans among the army for their actions. She did not so much defend the actions of her husband and attacked them for what they were doing and how innocents are suffering etc.

Flavius and the other senior officers taken aback by the actions of the woman, had the siege called off and a cessation of the destruction of Sarian property. He did demand that Tetricus be handed over though. Yet, before this could be done, the prefect of the city, through friends, slipped Tetricus out and he travelled immediately to Britannia.

Flavius, in a terrible rage threatened to raze the city, but did not. He did however take Jaina, her children and Tetrica, (Tetricus' first daughter), as hostages treated with all due respect and honors accorded to their social class. Following this, he turned his force around to link back up with PCL Verus, and is in route now.

By the beginning of Maius, he would be past Masillia and depending on where PCL Verus is, days or a week or so behind.


(I hope to have these scenarios done on the weekend. Again I apologize, but no PC and no Internet make Phil... something...something...)


Phil Tue, 03 Jun 2008 15:54:37 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11297 Eastern Promises

----------
Syria, North of Apemeia,
February 133 AD
----------

The wind blew from the east. It was warm and dry, refreshing in the cool winter air, and Raeus Vitellius let it wash over him as he sat upon his steed and waited. Behind him, his bodyguard and staff waited, and alongside him sat the Armenian general Makayel, and one of the various Ministers of Seleukid King Alexandros’ court, Astaros Kerimedes. No-one in the party said a word as they waited on the road for the approaching horsemen.

The allied delegation had already met with King Sanatruces once, but the talks had floundered early amidst irreconcilable demands. Initially, Raeus had been unwilling to cede any territory to the Persians. But as the Persian king pressed north, the case became more pressing. Raeus’ own army was dreadfully short of cavalry now, and the Seleukid King, Alexandros, was dieing. He felt he could still defeat the Persians on the field of battle, but it would be at such a terrible cost.

Even now, his mind raced over the details as the Persian king approached before him. He knew that he held the responsibility of the lives of nearly two hundred thousand soldiers, and the millions who lived in the affected provinces. The pressure of it weighed upon him heavily, but he straightened as Sanatruces’ delegation arrived.

"Your highness." Raeus spoke first, and bowed slightly in his saddle. "My thanks for meeting with me once more. I wish to speak with you of peace. To see if we can reach a compromise acceptable to both sides and spare the deaths of more men."

Sanatruces nodded, his beard wrinkling as he began to speak, "I would be willing to negotiate, Strategos."

"Good," Raeus spoke firmly and quickly. "We are prepared to cede the territory of Armenia to you, but Assyria shall remain in Seleukid hands."

Sanatruces shook his head slowly; in truth he had pondered the notion at one point. But to gain nothing from his own personal conquest would not bode well for his own public image. The conquest of Armenia had been Prince Shapur's doing, not Sanatruces, and the Persian King recognized the fact. "I cannot accept that. We have pushed into the very heart of the Seleucid Empire, Strategos. I have agreed to cede the territory of Regnum Palmyrae – undisputedly occupied land in Persia control. To cede Assyria with it is too much."

A slight gust of wind wrapped the cloaks of the two men into the air. Raeus was quiet for a moment, before speaking in a low voice. "With every step you advance further into Syria you weaken, Sanatruces. Your supplies grow stretched by distance as ours contract. Twenty-five thousand more men are on their way to Antioch as we speak." He shook his head. "You may be able to beat our army in battle, but the price for you will be too terrible to bear. Your army would be shattered and broken - your conquests for naught. Your vassals will look at you and only see weakness." He paused, and then added. "We will offer reparations for the territory, if necessary."

"I have not driven this far into Seleucid lands to turn around and accept abject defeat without a battle. You are outnumbered, Strategos. You command a force of questionable cavalry, and the Seleucid King's injuries must be quite grave to keep him from negotiations. Disease threatens to tear apart your lands in the East, and both our armies with it. Do not be coy with me, General," Sanatruces paused, keeping his serenity, "Surely your people have suffered enough in this conflict. You hold the lives of every man that will die in battle, and ten thousand more prisoners of war in your hands today, Strategos." He paused, looking to the Raeus once more, "I am not entirely unwilling to compromise, however... Persia would be willing to pay reparations to Seleukia if you cede Assyria to Persian hands."

Raeus sighed inwardly, but kept a serious countenance. He did not look the Persian king in the eye, but instead scanned the far horizon behind him. "Very well, we shall demand steep reparations for the damage in men and material that you have caused on your invasion. In addition, we demand the return of all prisoners of war unharmed, and the return of all Imperial legions taken in battle."

"I can accept those demands."

The Roman Proconsular Legate nodded once. "Very well. I have one additional demand - any Armenian soldier who wishes to may re-locate to Seleukid lands with their wives and families. I would suggest we call a truce for one week whilst I consult with my allies for the extent of reparations required.”

Sanatruces nodded, "In the mean time, I shall withdraw my forces from Iustianopolis."

"I thank you. I shall have word with you soon regarding the reparations. Do you wish for the return of your men in the event of peace?”

"I wish for the return of the main army and the officers. Prince Shapur I have no further use for."

Raeus was appalled inwardly by the treatment of a loyal general, but hid the thoughts as he squinted into the eastern wind. "Very well."

"In that case, I shall take up position around Iustianapolis till the conclusion of the talks." There was, after all, to be peace in the east.

----------
Two days later,
The Camp of III Virtutis
----------

Under the poor illumination that the lamps of the tent provided, Legate Rufus Sabaco was musing over his brother’s last letter. His father, his brother’s wife and daughter had left to Sicily in fear of the Valites Wolves. Only Claudius Sabaco had remained in Arretium taking care of the family business, but was ready to flee as well, in case things went for the worst. His thoughts were interrupted when Legio III Virtutis’ first Tribune entered the tent and offered a salute.

“Ave Tribune. Is there something wrong?”

The Tribune had a concerned look on his face. “I wanted to speak to you about the Legions morale, sir.”

A displeased look appeared on Rufus face. The days after linking up with the Army of the East, the morale of the men seemed to be improving. But now, with the Army heading back on Anthiokheia, the soldiers’ spirits looked gloomier. “Go ahead.”

“I’m afraid the men are not happy about the fact that we are moving away from the Persians, instead of driving them from our lands.”

The Legate reclined in his seat. “It’s not the place of soldiers to question their superior’s orders. They would do well to remember that - we all have our orders and that it is our sacred duty to Rome to fulfil them. Also, they should also remember that this campaign is in capable hands and that in the end, Rome always triumphs. That alone should keep the men’s spirit high.”

“But sir, they were counting on a chance to clear the Legion’s name. There are rumours in the camp about peace with those animals! This cannot be! This will be quite shameful if Rome yields to these dogs!”

Rufus Sabaco rose from his chair and spoke with a slightly angered voice. “Tribune, you should stop concerning yourself with matters that are not of your responsibility. We are here waiting for our allies to arrive. You should be focusing on doing your job, like keeping the men’s mind out off mere rumours. You can go now!”

The Tribune saluted and left the tent without any more words. Before he seated again, Rufus served himself a goblet of wine, and took a large swig at it. His mind went back to that fateful battle and as its images appeared in his mind, anger rose inside of him. Finally in a fit of rage, he threw his goblet of the table.

“Dammit! I swear by the gods, I will have my revenge! As long as it takes!”

----------
Outside Antiokheia,
Two days later
----------

The soldiers of II Ursus Hispaniorum that had survived the three year campaign were lined up in their ranks across a large open field. All the men were at arms and in their parade uniforms, which included crest pieces attached to their helmets. On a pedestal which had been built earlier in the day by some of the soldiers, Legate Carus Florianus Julianus stood and looked out over his men. Although the peace was not on favourable terms, such events were of extreme importance to the legions morale and well being.

He looked over the wooden tablets with the names of the soldiers chosen by the Tribunes to be decorated on this day for their efforts throughout the campaign. "You have all served Rome beyond what I asked of you three years ago…" Florianus began and continued for sometime, speaking of the legions valour and courage throughout the
campaign.

With his speech over he called out the name of the first man to be decorated. "Duplicarius Servius Titiedius." He called out and waited for the low level officer to make his way to the tribunal. "Titiedius is awarded a silver phalera for single headedly bringing down a Persian cataphract at the Battle of Archaonis." Florianus handed the round disk to the man and waited for the cheering to stop before continuing to the next soldier, and so on and so on until all but one of the decorations were presented.

With the day over, Florianus stepped off the tribunal and retreated to his tent to allow the soldiers under the supervision of their Centurions to enjoy the rest of the night. Soon they would be asked not remark and head back west for Rome.

----------
Antiokheia,
Three days later
----------

Throngs of weeping citizens filled the city streets of Antiokhea as the body of Basileus Alexandros Kallinicus was escorted through the city to the mausoleum that great descendants of Seleucus I Nicator were forever entombed in. Effigies of the great protector were hoisted above the heads of the crowds, and cries of his name were shouted by the people. All the while, a scene of relative serenity surrounded the Royal Family, the wife of the Seleucid King and his four children. Raeus stood at the front rank as the Roman representative, the scene before him passing with slow remorse as he held impassively still, his stoicism rampantly apparent despite the morbidity of the ongoing ceremony.

A gentle wind broke Raeus’ gaze, and he glanced along the front rank. He recognized Septimus Vitellius there, recently returned from Persian captivity. And along from him, was Maximiana Vitellius, his cousin. She kept her head held proud and high, but tears fell down her face, smudging her eye make up. She clutched her children to either side of her, the four youngsters, the youngest of whom would barely remember their father. Raeus looked hardest at Ioulios, the eldest, but still barely into his early teens. He had the look of his father about him, Raeus thought.

‘So, this is the last ruler of Seleukia,’ Raeus thought to himself. The Empire was failing, and would now struggle on until the next war, when it disappears from the face of the world, divided between Rome and Persia. The boy would lead a terrified, horrible life, the Roman general knew that. He would be caught between the demands of his allies and the threats of his foes, unable to defend his people and in truth becoming little more than a puppet.

It was then he noticed that Maximiana was looking at him, a curious look on her face. Raeus held her gaze for a moment, and then nodded, barely perceptibly, and a small, sympathetic smile crossed his face. She tried to respond in the same way, but there was nothing else there. The Roman general returned his gaze forward.

Megas Basileus Alexandros Kallinicus would be remembered, likely, as one of the last true Kings of Seleucia. His defense of Seleukia during the first Romano-Persian War would be the true distinguishing factor of his reign, the way he conducted himself after the tragedy that resulted in the assassination of most of the royal family of Seleucia. Yet his imminent recovery from the matter, and the grand defense of Seleucid lands caused to people to see him as he was, a King who desperately defended his lands, doing everything within his power to ensure the stability and power of the once-sprawling Seleucid Empire.

Maximiana Vitellius, a Roman, was now the likely power behind the throne. It would be a woman of Roman descent, not a Seleucid, who would now likely be the royal power in Seleucia. A woman and a boy, not yet twelve years old would now lead one an Empire of former greatness and grandeur.

----------
That evening – The Royal Palace – The Rooms of Raeus Vitellius
----------

The funeral feast continued into the night, but the senior Roman officers had been summoned to council in the apartments Raeus Vitellius had been assigned in the Seleukid palace. The twelve legates, auxilia prefects, allied captains and Praetorian officers crowded into the room as best they could, those that could had procured a seat as their commander gave them brief instructions.

Raeus himself leant against the entrance to the terrace in the apartment, the sound of the feast echoing over his shoulder, causing a few of the younger officers to look longingly over their commanders’ shoulder at the affairs they were missing. Raeus’ voice was low.

“I am sure you have all heard of the events in Rome. This war here is over, and though it may feel like a defeat, we have come through this war with our position comparatively strengthened.” The lie did not sit easily with him. “It is time for your men to go home. The troops from the Danube and African commands may take their leave as soon as they are able.”

He straightened and continued to pace. “In the interests of providing a potential defence for the city of Rome, the following legions will come with me to Greece – II Ursus Hispaniorum, IV Iova Alpina, IV Fidelis , III Virtutis, VII Antiqua. The latter two can seek a re-fit as quickly as they are able, but I want all of you ready to move to the defence of the capital if necessary. I myself will go to Rome to ensure a peaceful resolution to this conflict.” He glanced around the gathered faces, most nodded in assent, and his old friend, Decius Castinus offered a smile to his commander.

One of the auxilia prefects spoke up. “Word has it that a compromise was reached with Lucius Verus…” His voice tailed off in an implied question.

“I have heard that also.” Raeus nodded firmly. “I dearly hope it to be true. But I would ask that these legions stay on alert to my command. I shall not ask soldiers to march on the capital itself in an aggressive move.” A few fears were allayed, and he continued. “The remainder of the troops I ask to stay here under the command of Proconsular Legate Septimus Vitellius to assist the Seleukids with the rebuilding, and providing a defence should Sanatruces’ word prove false. I ask this of our allies as well – your men are freshest, but should be able to return home next year once the civil crisis in Rome is averted.”

“It could be seen as provocative even taking troops to Greece, and returning to Rome yourself, general.” Ciriacus Caelius, the Legate of IV Iova Alpina spoke up. “I would be careful upon your return.”

Raeus nodded. “I will. I aim to return with the Praetorian Guard and the Equites to the city. These men can guarantee my safety, I am sure.” He glanced across at the Praetorian Tribunes who each nodded grimly. Avitus Sextus’ cold, hard eyes seemed to bore into him. “If there are no other questions, then you are dismissed gentlemen. You know your roles.” The officers stirred and made to leave. “Legate Julianus, may I see you alone for a moment. The Praetorian Tribunes had also made no movement from their corner of the room. Once the door was closed, Raeus spoke up.

"Florianus, your men shall come with us and stay in Greece. But I wish for you to return to Rome with me."

Florianus nodded as he looked into a half empty class of wine and then back up at Raeus. "Rome without my legion aye… there are easier ways to kill me," he stated.

Running a hand through his long, silvering hair, Raeus did not rise to the humour. "If you need a whole legion of men to protect you, Florianus, then I would not consider showing my face in public again. No, you shall be under the guard of these men," he waved a hand indicating the gathered Praetorians, "but I shall have need of you in Rome."

The Legate shook his head for a second wondering what was in the head of the man before him that kept him so stoic. "Understood. I'll make arrangements at the docks tomorrow to get the ships provisioned."

"Do that. We sail as soon as possible." Raeus turned to glance out of his window at the stars glistening in the sky. "I am hopeful that Rome is not in need of saving with military force, but make sure the men know to be ready in Greece. We may need them if the city comes under threat."

"I'll speak with Fuvanius Rufus Sabaco and Decius Castinus privately and make sure they are aware of the situation." Florianus said, although probably not as well informed as Raeus was, he had received much alarming dispatching from various men he still professed to call friends in Rome.

"Very well, you may go and enjoy the festivities, Florianus. I shall see you in the morning."

"If it comes to fighting though…" Florianus said making his way to the door. "I haven't sacrificed the lives of so many young boys out here in the east in the last three years to stand back and watch inept leaders send more to die in the future for no gain. "

Raeus turned to face Florianus as he left. "Nor have I, legate. Nor have I." He turned away and walked onto the terrace of the apartments. The stars burnt bright overhead, and in the distance, the last of the crowds dispersed from the streets. He recalled his last words to Alexandros prior to the Battle at Apemeia. ‘I shall meet you in the afterlife.’ The exact words that he knew Tiberius Vitellius had sent to the Greek king prior to the Battle at Palmyra. Now they were both dead, and he was left behind.

He sensed movement behind him, as Avitus Sextus stepped onto the terrace and took a place at the rail besides him. “I am thinking of the dead too.” He spoke quietly, his gaze scanning the stars above them.

Raeus did not respond at once, his thoughts were deep and melancholy and he felt a great weight upon him. Eventually he spoke slowly. "It is a strange thing, battle. For whoever wins, the battle does not end. The vanquished is set free from the battlefield, while the victor must remain there, trapped to continue to fight for all he values. And the survivor will live out his life as the warrior; it seems until the day when he himself is vanquished.” He sighed. There was always one more battle to fight.

----------
Port of Antiokheia,
Four days Later
----------

Legate Carus Florianus Julianus looked down at the harbour from his vantage point of the two story house where he was staying at. He was filled with regret; regret for coming east when he should have stayed in Rome and run for Urban Perfect. Regret for bringing his family to Phoenicia, his wife's death a result and regret for the thousand men he'd lost in three years of fighting. He should have fought harder at the battle of Archaonis, commanded better at the battle of Apemeia, but all these things could not be fixed now.

He watched as the soldiers of the legions preparing to depart including his own II Ursus Hispaniorum loaded their equipment and stores onto the galleons lined up along the piers. Lifting the largesacks of grain onto the boats was back breaking labour but the soldiers were accustomed to hard work.

Florianus heard footsteps as someone entered his office. Turning around, he saw Camillus Favonius the trierarch of the trireme Minerva. "So my friend, ready for another adventure?. Hopefully no Cypriot pirates this time, huh?" Florianus said in jest as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder before embracing him. The two had been close since Florianus hired him in Ostia to captain his first trireme.

Camillus laughed as he held onto Florianus, they eventually separated from each other and spoke for sometime before the conversation turned to their departure. "I've seen that your ships have been provisioned and the Floriana are onboard and ready for departure. All that is left is for you; your staff officers and sons to board."

"I'm not coming with you." Florianus said patting the man on the shoulder. "You'll head for Athens with the legion. I've been requested to sail with Raeus and the Praetorians"

"If you're heading to Rome after the army lands at Greece, be warned I've only heard strange things from ships arriving from the west. Talk of legionary mutiny, northern Italy is teeming with legions from all over; they put a price on the head of the family of Lucius Verus! And you know who his daughter is!" The trierarch exclaimed.

Florianus smiled warmly. "It will be a cold day in Hades before I let them touch a vestal virgin." He said, for all his faults as a man there were things that were deemed unimaginable and to put a price on the head of the daughter of Lucius Verus made him sick to his very core. "Don't worry Camillius. I'll be fine." He said. "Now go. There's much to do before the convoy sets sail."

----------
The next day,
Off Antiokheia
----------

The Roman galley cut through the sparkling waters of the Mare Nostrum, leaving the east behind. Raeus Vitellius now stood at the stern of the vessel, and watched as the shoreline disappeared under the golden skies of dawn. He had spent five years in the east – exiled and shattered, brought low by the dishonour of being stripped of his command. He had done what he could for the lands in peace, and defended them with all his might in war.

But there was little sadness. He would miss Tyre, but he had not seen the city itself in two years. And his family was all in Rome, waiting for him. He hoped to the gods that nothing would happen to the city until his return. For he was coming home.

--------------------
Written by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Carus Florianus Julianus, Fuvianus Rufus Sabaco and Sol Invictus (GM)

Editted by: Sol Invictus
Sun, 01 Jun 2008 00:07:56 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11296 ---------------------------------------
Veno Coliseum, Rome
---------------------------------------

The final and seventh day of games in honor of Legio VI Fortuna for their service to Rome and her defense came to a commencement. Sunlight in the Coliseum glared bright as spectators squinted and covered their eyes to see the events before them. Three chariots raced around the arena; whipping their stallions, and chanting, the riders were hell bent on getting the crowed going. After the first half hour of preliminary events, a cloud covered the sun, allowing the onlookers to sit more comfortably. To excite and curry their favor, bread was being tossed out into the seating to the awaiting plebeians who flooded the areas in front of the carriages with bread.

----

Moments later Princeps Decius Daia entered the amphitheater, looking out at the masses of people enjoying themselves. He thought momentarily to himself, about how similar the citizens and barbarians were when it came to enjoying bloody scenes. He then chuckled to himself as he assumed his seat, next to where the Prefectus Praetorio sat. He could not help but think that the people must have enjoyed the sights of the barbarians hanging upon their stakes while select men tried to call these acts barbarian; perhaps these traditional Romans did not enjoy the games of the amphitheater. In reality, the objections from the elite had mainly been directed at the treatment of citizens, including Vallentinus’ adjutant, but Decius did not allow this fact to interfere with his internal observations. As the Princeps finished his chuckling, Antonius turned his head and began to speak. “Imperator,” the two were in earshot of subordinates, “I am glad you have been able to make it to the games. Certainly the people will be swayed against the words so harshly spoken in the Senate.”

“I am not concern of that Antonius, the people are easily moved and distracted,” Decius said in a matter of fact way, “That is both the blessing and curse of Rome. Fortunately the people are currently accepting of the situation.” A group of Senators sat alongside the two in the Emperors box.

“Certainly the people will be integral in your safety Princeps,” Sanius Piso said over Decius shoulder. Decius nodded his head, “Of course, provided they are not pressured as the Senate most recently has been.”

“Yes,” Antonius began, “However, the men of the Senate have their minds on power grabbing in this time of civil uncertainty. The people only wish for their own protection and security,” he finished.

“And that is why we must assure them that they are secure,” Senator Tertilus said looking at Decius with anticipation that he might get his point. Antonius Castor continued upon that point as the main gladiatorial show began, “Yes, Imperator. Rome is dangerously protected in the hands of Proconsular Legate Vitellius. He has already sent two legions away from the core of the battle whilst Verus keeps his legions dangerously close to Rome.” Senator Castor was going to continue but caught a look from Antonius.

“Decius,” Antonius said, “When have I ever failed to serve Rome and you? My loyalty is an example to Rome whilst that of others have been revealed in their readiness to undermine your authority amongst the legions, the Senate and the People. I am sure you can see how he is not the right choice to protect Rome from her enemies.”
Decius sat listening to all of this. As the crowd cheered, he sought further advice, “Sanius, what are your thoughts on these issues?”

The senator began to speak his mind, “As you know I have been in Ostia with you most of this time. I know that Proconsular Legate Vitellius was influenced by Lucius Verus. I know that he has marched down declaring the security of Rome and your protection. However, as we all know words are just that unless supported by actions. I can not speak to his actions in the Senate for I was not there. However, if these claims are true, it may be wise to place another commander over those legions.” Sanius suggested. “But this only applies if they would accept a new commander, which is hardly guaranteed.”

“I am reluctant to replace this man as it will only show the opposition a weakness that I feel is not there,” Decius said as he reached for a nearby grape, “However, I have made much deliberation on this issue and believe I have a solution. As you have returned,” Decius said as he placed his hand upon that of Antonius Terpus, “it is time that you fulfill certain duties required of an heir. You are to be my sword on the battlefield.”

“Imperator” Antonius started as he gazed over to the Senators around; in listening. “Julius Vitellius issued an empty promise to his men; promising them bonus. I have issued his men a stipend of 30% of their annual gross income. In return they’ll stay put until requested by us. They’ve also agreed to fight under my banner. Games today are thrown in their honor.”

The group of men finished their discussions readying themselves for the games. “Very Good Antonius” Decius replied smiling at the Praefectus.

----

“Wait, that was mine!”

A man yelled out to another who caught a piece of bread being thrown into the crowd from below in the arena. “Not fast enough,” the other man replied as he ran off with the loaf of bread tightly secured in his hands. All around people screamed and raised their hands for free bread being tossed into the crowd. Women were being trampled, old men tossed to the side. The crowd was hungry after the long day of games and demanded food. Each person pushed passed the other to get their hands on some bread.

“It’s mad around here; we are never going to get that bread unless we take it from someone. Let’s get out of here Adrius,” an older looking man wearing dirty peasant clothes and missing his front teeth said as he turned and walked back up the steep steps followed by the younger, equally dirty and hungry-looking Adrius. “Why do we even try anymore Annius? By the time we get from our seats to the bottom, there are always too many people to get our hands on anything.” Adrius said as he climbed the steep steps pushing past people who stood in the way.

“Because Adrius, look where you are! We are in the most magnificent place in the whole Empire.” Adrius turned around and looked upon the majesty of the Veno Coliseum. From his vantage point he was able to see the breathtaking sight of the towering, enveloping coliseum. In every direction he saw a sea of humanity. Around the base of the rings where the front row seats were, Adrius could see the more well-off Romans enjoying their time. He even saw, although not sure, but he could have sworn after squinting hard that he saw one man using his slave as a personal foot stool while he waited for the next match.

“Come on will you? At this rate we won’t get back to our seats in time for the final match,” Annius barked as Adrius followed. When they got back to their seats, they were nearly at the top of the coliseum. “I’m tired,” Adrius whined as Annius turned and gave him a mean glare. “I don’t want to hear that from you boy, I pretty much had to kill to get these seats, so you enjoy them or else,” Annius commanded. “But Annius, the air is so thin up here, its hard to breath. And the fighters look more like ants then gladiators,” Adrius complained.

“You have got to be kidding me Adrius, we are right across from the Emperor himself, no finer Roman could ask for a better seat.” Annius insisted. “The Emperor, Where?” Adrius asked as he started to squint his way around the crowd.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t you see that big covered box with all the purple?” Annius enquired impatiently. “You mean that box with all the pretty women in gowns?” Adrius asked, perhaps sarcastically.

“What? No…..I mean yes….but those aren’t woman, they are Senators and those aren’t downs they are Senatorial togas, and they aren’t pretty, they are old.” With Annius’s response horns and drums exploded all throughout the arena as Annius put out his hand to quite Adrius from talking as the two leaned forward to try and hear the speaker.

---

Back in front of the Emperor’s box where today’s host stood was Gauis Rominius, a moderately wealthy slaver and patron to the games; he provided the gladiators who would fight on this day. He took the podium and spoke to the arena addressing the main event.

“Today!” He spoke aloud and paused. “Today, I bring before you a special presentation!”

His pause signaled handlers on the arena floor to pull drapes off four corners of the arena. Spectators awed as four furious cats appeared in chains. To the west of the arena doors swung open as a man appeared. “I present the infamous snake Marius Germanicus.”

The crowd erupted into a huge roar of boos and other unkind words as a tall man wearing somewhat grandiose armor walked out into the area. His armor was made of what looked like silver but obviously wasn’t. In his right hand he held a standard sword and in his left attached to his arm was a round shield with no markings. A chest plate with no markings was around his upper body as two shin guards protected his legs. The crowed continued to boo as the gladiator representing Marius continued his walk to the center of the arena.

“He looks so small.” Adrius said as he looked long and hard trying to figure out what he was looking at from such a high distance. “Small? Are you kidding me, he looks big from all the way up here, just imagine how big he must be up close. I bet he is a giant.” Annius said as he inched closer as if it would help.

The drums and horns finally stopped as Gauis Rominius put his hands up again to quiet the loud crowd. “To round out this epic contest, we need a hero as equally revered as Marius was feared. It is my pleasure to bring to you at the closing of today’s games, and in honor of the glorious Legio VI Fortuna, Pertinax Veno, Our Beloved Sapiens!”
The doors on the opposite side of where the gladiator representing Marius entered from flung open and in walked a towering figure of a man. He was armed just as the other gladiator with a sword and shield. However unlike the other gladiator, this one was dressed up in much fancier armor. He wore shoulder protectors that looked like lions heads. He wore a helmet that resembled that of a Roman general’s and his breast plate bore the sacred emblem of Pertinax Veno himself.

“Wow, I want him to win.” Adrius said from up top his elevated seat. “Boy, you have up and lost your mind. I know your mother taught you about Pertinax, stop acting so stupid.” Annius barked and continued. “That’s the greatest Emperor Rome has ever had. You look out good son, Pertinax and the gods still watch over Rome.

Both gladiators stood in the very center of the ring. On all four sides around them, wild cats were being held back by a small pack of men desperately trying to keep the starved and enraged beats from mauling the gladiators before the battle even started. Then as the crowed died down, the two gladiators turned towards the Emperor and recited their oath: “We who are about to die, salute you.”

Decius Daia waved his hand to signal the start of the fight. At once both men turned at each other and gave a long cold stare into each other’s eyes. They both knew that one of them wasn’t walking out of there alive and the man playing Marius had a particular determined look on his face because he knew that he was expected to die. Back in the upper decks, Annius and the young naive Adrius looked on with excitement. Their quite was only broken by the much older Annius screaming “Oh it’s on!”

The battle begun when Marius made a desperate charge at Pertinax which ended in disaster as the obviously more experienced gladiator portraying Pertinax stepped to the side of Marius and hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his sword. Instantly, Marius crashed to the ground from the blow and looked to be dazed. Pertinax, ever the vigilant killers, followed up his blow with a quick downward slice of his sword which missed and cut into the ground Marius rolled out of the way and quickly grabbed a handful of dirt as Pertinax chased after him. Finally Marius stopped rolling and Pertinax went for another death blow when suddenly Marius threw his handful of dirt right into the eyes of an unprotected Pertinax.

“By The Gods! Did You See That, Something that Snake would pull!” Annius yelled. “How can you tell, it just looks like two dots rolling around in the dirt,” the young Adrius commented.

Back in the center of the ring, Pertinax had moved away from Marius who was back on his feet and advanced on Pertinax with a mighty swing of his sword. Pertinax the able warrior raised his shield up in time and followed it up with a blow of his own that Marius managed to dodge. Soon both men were toe to toe and staring each other down. Pertinax circled his pray as Marius continually tried to make false moves to psyche out his opponent. The stalemate was broken when Pertinax in his circling finally got Marius’s back to one of the cats. This was his opening and Pertinax took it with an explosion of chops and thrusts. Left, right, left; Pertinax chopped away at the defending Marius who could only manage to get his shield up. Left, right, left; Pertinax continued his onslaught as he slowly but surely pushed Marius closer and closer to the cats. Left, right, left; Marius started to buckle under the constant thrusts but as a result of all of the swinging, Pertinax started to lose his stamina and slowed down his assault. Marius who was now feet from the cat’s jaws realized the bigger, stronger Pertinax was running out of steam and saw his opening. Left, right……..Marius knew what was coming, and has Pertinax followed his patterned assault with another left, Marius lowered to his knees and let the swing fly right over his head. He then thrust up head first catching the top of his head on the bottom part of Pertinax’s chin. This sent the gladiator stumbling back, and Pertinax was shaken by the blow. Marius was no better off either as the yet another blow to his head left him a bit dazed.

“Oh, another cheap move,” Annius said as Adrius seemed to give up and was looking at the birds flying over. “Your missing all the action boy, watch, Marius just made Terpus mad.” Annius said in his excitement. “Terpus?” Adrius enquired but it was no use, Annius was lost in the heat of the moment and the excitement of the battle.

Back in the ring, Pertinax spit out a tooth from the head shot he received from the desperate Marius. Pertinax then whipped the blood from his lip and in a split second rushed at a waiting Marius. “Ahhh” Pertinax screamed out his war cry as with all his might he charged at Marius, yet Marius was read for him and he stepped around Pertinax’s rush and fell to one knee as he swung his sword outward slicing the unprotected back of the Pertinax. The gladiator screamed out in pain as he limped backwards just feet away from the cat and fell to one knee holding the back of his leg. It was at this moment that the fans in the arena started to boo loudly and even some of them were throwing things into the ring. It was clear who the favorite of this match was but the gladiator playing Marius didn’t care, all he cared about was his life and he saw his opening. With the hurt Pertinax on the ground, Marius swung his sword around by rotating his wrist. This was a sign of his preparation for the death blow. Pertinax looked up in pain and saw that Marius was ready to finish him. Then, without warning, Marius exploded from his standing position and rushed at the down Pertinax. With only a second to react, Pertinax got his shield up and blocked the coming blow. He then continued to push up and returned Marius’s favor by pushing the shield into the gut of his opponent and used his own momentum to fling him over him in one continued motion. The crowed erupted in cheers as Marius flipped over Pertinax and landed hard in the ground. Pertinax stumbled to his feet and moved away from Marius who got up quickly, however as he was getting up, a wild cat struck him back down with a swipe of its paw. Marius screamed out as the cat, unable to pursue, was bound by chains. Luckily for Marius the beast was out of reach.

“Eat him alive!” shouted some of the assembled citizens. But others, always interested in an upset and realizing that this match did not truly represent Imperator Pertinax and Magister Marius, withheld support for the favorite.

On a close look, the people in the front row near the hurt gladiator could see blood pouring out from the cracks between Marius’s fingers. The injured gladiator screamed out in pain as he jumped to his feet, holding his face. He swung his sword around wildly and obviously couldn’t see what he was doing. Marius continued to stumble around blinded and bleeding as Pertinax watched with a smile on his face. Still hurting from the slice on his leg, he limped slowly over to the desperate Marius and laughed. Marius heard the gladiators laugh and began panicking. Instantly he stopped stumbling about and instead started to run frantically in the other direction of the laughter and right into a wall. The audience gave out a great laugh as Pertinax was right behind the blind Marius.

“Haha, that fool Vallentinus can’t see two feet in front of his nose,” Annius blurted after he fully enjoyed his laugh.

“You mean Marius, not Vallent… what’s his name.” Adrius pointed out.

“No screw it kid, I mean Vallentinus the Goth, or some of his cronies. We must crush them.”

Severl hundred onlookers, perhaps prompted by agents in the crowd, started to chant Antonius Terpus’s name as the gladiator Pertinax walked up to the fallen Marius who was slowly getting to his feet.

Unable to see and finding it hard to hear over the chants of “Terpus”, the gladiator representing Marius stood at the ready with his sword out and his face covered in blood that it appeared to be a crimson mask. Pertinax on the other hand was confident and ready. He advanced on Marius who swung his sword violently but with no direction. Pertinax just waited for his opening and inserted his shield into the blind mans range and managed to knock the sword right from his weak grip. He then lifted his arm out and struck Marius with the back of the shield knocking him to the ground.

As the blood of the “rebel” continued to spill upon the ground, Decius raised his hands to the crowd signaling for their silence. As the chants and yells fell to silence, Decius began to address the crowds, “Citizens of Rome, We have been born into difficult times. However, do not fear for Rome will persevere. Rome will find that you prosper. I will ensure this. Whilst I am not a man of the legions, I have respect from the most honorable of those who lead our men on the field of battle. It is now time that those men are rewarded for their loyalty, achievements, and respect for the Traditions and Laws of Rome. Therefore, from this day forward, Raeus Vitellius shall assume the title of Magister Militum per Oriens and Antonius Terpus shall assume the title of Magister Militum per Occidens. Any man who defies the just orders of these men, defies the authority granted as Imperium Maius Proconsulare, the Empire, and the Senate and People of Rome!” As Decius finished the crowd cried out with various shouts, including “Antonius,” “Raeus,” and “Honestus.”

Pertinax stood over the fallen Marius and placed his foot on Marius’s left arm holding the shield. He then placed his sword in both hands and held it above the blind mans exposed neck and upper chest.

“Death, death, death!” The crowds chanted for the destruction of the fallen gladiator. Pertinax stood above his prey waiting as he looked up to the Princeps for his final say. Daia sat and looked around the crowed. He smiled as he turned his head to his right and nodded to Antonius Terpus himself. Antonius shook his head to the Emperor and stood up and walked to the edge of the box so everyone in the arena could see him. Upon seeing him, the fans stopped their chanting and began applauding the games’ sponsor. Terpus waved his hands to the on lookers. He then kept one of his hands out and turned it sideways making a fist. He then extended his thumb and at once the crowed started to chant “Kill, Kill, Kill” Pertinax looked up at Antonius who stood like a statue playing out the anticipation of the decision. Then as the chants started to get louder, Terpus finally turned his hand again and his thumb went straight up in the air in thumbs up. The crowd erupted again and Pertinax shook his head. He then looked down at the blind and bloody Marius. Pertinax lifted both hands high up in the air while holding his sword and plunged it into the exposed neck of the beaten Marius. As the cold steal penetrated the fallen gladiator’s skin, the crowed got louder and louder. They even started to toss things into the area in their celebration. Finally, after half an hour of additional festivities, the now-tired Roman crowd began to drift out the coliseum.

--------------------------------------------------

Written by: Daratius Antonius Terpus, Actius Decius Daia, Augustus Tiberius Varro
Input by: Tiberius Adrius Varro
Edited by: GMs (JOM)

AD 132
Sat, 31 May 2008 20:58:03 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11295 I have updated the NPC List. You can view it either by linking from the Wiki or through the following page:

NPC List

If you have trouble navigating the sheet, you may want to simply download it in spreadsheet format to your computer. Thu, 29 May 2008 17:25:14 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11291 Seeing in Black and White


:::::: Februarius 132ad; Command Tent of Decius Lucius Verus; Gallia Cisalpina ::::::


Consular Justialus Pius eased in his seat, visibly pleased with how the negotiations had gone thus far. He looked about the room and his thoughts moved to another matter of discussion, “There is one more matter that I wish to discuss.” he paused, “Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius is in Gaul and I know very little beyond that fact. What can you tell me about his location and activities, if you have reports? I was Proconsul for two terms, and I retain some influence in the region, so I might be of some assistance.”

Legati Flavius Iudicius and Laenas Maxentius Volusius gave expressions of confusion; where was this sudden help coming from anyway? Flavius’ confusion turned very cautious and wary.

Proconsular Legate Decius Lucius Verus nodded at the comments, smiling, “That is most kind of you consular but I am afraid I have heard nothing more than mere rumors. The most prevalent of them is that he has courted the consular legion we passed by not to long ago, I Minerva.” he sighed and looked down for a moment before looking back up at Consular Pius and his colleague, Cassius Ispius. “If it is true than I am convinced he will attempt to break my supply lines.”

“The ego of Tetricus Vitellius is larger than his influence, gentlemen.” Cassius remarked, smirking. “He has lost all friends in Rome, and no doubt many elsewhere.”

Flavius and Maxentius though were more concerned about the supply lines as the realization of Tetricus with a legion behind them hit Maxentius blurted out to his comrade, “That means Massilia…”

Flavius in a startled way looked to his friend and then commander and stood up in a sudden motion.

“Sir, with your permission I would like to lead a force and attempt to reinforce the auxilia cohortes we left behind.” he paused before adding, “If it isn’t too late.”

Lucius looked up at Flavius and nodded at his request, “Permission granted legatus. You may take your own legion as well as the private legions.”

Flavius beamed with pleasure by the authorization of his commander and enthusiastically saluted him, “Thank you sir.”

Justialus surmised the situation and spoke up, “I shall travel to Massilia myself. I am on friendly terms with the prefect, perhaps I can help facilitate a peaceful resolution.

As Consular Ispius and Proconsular Verus continued the negotiations Flavius turned away from what they were saying and looked down toward Justialus.

“If you wish consular, you can travel with me. We depart within the hour.” he stated with a grin.

“Thank you legate, for your offer.” the consular began, “Unfortunately, I might reduce my ability to deal with the legion if I arrive with you... if the legion is indeed in Transalpina. I shall ride with my own small escort.” he declared.

Flavius raised an eyebrow to the elder statesman, “You don't trust me to provide your safety consular? Perhaps having you with us, you could talk down the consular legion and no bloodshed need occur...”

Flavius held a wry grin.

“If I arrive with you legate, the legion will be less likely to hear me through... they might see me simply as your agent. So this is not a matter of safety. But I do hope to avoid the bloodshed.” Consular Pius stated with a nod.

Flavius’ grin turned to a sour stare as he gave a very light huff, “Suit yourself consular...”


:::::: Meanwhile; Massilia; Gallia Transalpina ::::::


Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius viewed the scene before him and smiled; Massilia looked so majestic in this time of year. He had marched his men from their camp near the alpine passes and moved to severe the supply lines of Proconsular Legate Verus and to liberate the gem of southern Gaul from the gnawing teeth of the barbaric northern wolves. While it had take a bit of effort to convince the legion to follow him, he carried the day and wondered as he led the consular legion, the same which his father had led throughout his military campaigns, how his father felt with such men around him.

Legio (c) I Minerva made her way with a determined pace toward Massilia and as soon as the legion caught sight of the walls of the city, they were spotted. Tetricus was sure he would face some opposition, but friends from around the area had forewarned him it was only two auxilia units; no where near the match for a proud legion like Minerva. So he continued with confidence and pride. His mission and duty clear; he would do all he could to stop the northern legions, all he could to safeguard the empire, to protect its honor and of course to show all that he was his father’s son; the Defensor Populi Romani.

The two cohortes auxiliae, I Leuci and I Gallorum Hadriana, seeing the approaching legion quickly began to prepare for a possible assault. They had no foreknowledge of it coming and in fact were under the impression the legion was sitting out of the conflict as per the requests of their former commander, Iovinianus Gothicus, and so were greatly shocked to see it advancing toward them in battle array.

The citizens of Massilia were already not happy with the current occupation of their city by the northern rebels and now, it appeared they would have to endure a siege on their part. The very thought of it sent many people into a panic as well as into a riot, which caused the 3,500 man garrison further delays in not only suppressing the riots but securing all the gates and parapets on the walls.

Tetricus watched from afar, he could see the scrambling of the cohortes as they attempt to secure the city from his approach.

“Can you see it Manus?” Tetricus stated with a smile toward the Princeps’ cousin, Legate Brutus Manus Daia.

Manus looked at the city a sighed a bit, not answering.

“I can hear the people,” he began with a proud smile, “they are clamoring to be liberated.” he now turned to Manus, “Does this not fill you with pride?”

Manus gave a small smile as he thought about it; realizing that this was but a small part in restoring order to Rome and another step forward in aiding his cousin against his foes.

“I guess you are right Tetricus.” he stated before his mind reflected to the task at hand. “But we have some harsh business on hand first.”

Tetricus gave a wicked grin, “Oh I shouldn’t think to harsh. Afterall, my friends are ready.”

Manus turned to his side and gave a quizzical expression, “Your friends?”

“Yes. As soon as the assault reaches its apex, a group of men will storm the southern gate along the coastal road and open it. We need only to send our cavalry and from there we can secure the entire section of walls to the next parapet and easily gain entry with a cohort or two.” he paused, pulling on his reigns to steady his horse as it anxious moved about, “Then the cohortes will have no other alternatives but to surrender unless they wish to all perish.”

Manus seemed a bit shocked and then with a hint of anger in his voice asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am sorry. But I was not sure I could get my plan to proceed and I would have thought it rude to tell you something and then have to reverse it because I could not pull it off.” Tetricus explained.

Manus sighed and shook his head a bit as he watched Minerva slowly advance toward the walls of the city, seeing the cavalry swing out around out of sight, ready to charge the gate once a pre-designated signal was given.

“Very well consul.” Manus stated before looking to him and catching his eyes, “The gods bless you. We await your command.”

Tetricus, with a wry grin, looked toward the still chaotic lines of the cohortes on the walls and the riots in the streets against them commented, “Then let the liberation of Rome commence.”

He raised his arm and then quickly lowered it, giving his signal to the officers to begin the attack.


::::::: Two Days Later; The Fast Galley Vicaria; Coast of Gallia Transalpina ::::::


“What kind of…gratuity…do you expect to offer, sir?” asked the freedman Hesiodos.

Marcus Justialus Pius, twice consul of Rome, rubbed his thumb. Hesiodos smiled briefly; the motion signaled that his master was deep in thought.

“Fifty sestertii per person,” Justialus announced abruptly.

“That is over a quarter million in total, sir. Will the Senate compensate you?”

The consular shrugged. “I can absorb the cost.”

Hesiodos nodded. He knew that his master was one of the wealthiest men in the Mediterranean world. Curiously, however, Justialus, unlike peers such as Rimilius Ispius, never attempted to carve a role for himself in the halls of power. Instead, he had concentrated over the course of a long career on commerce and the governance of his favorite regions, Gaul and Greece.

The galley’s commander approached the pair. “Dominus, we expect to see Massilia on the horizon in a few hours. We shall disembark before nightfall.”

Justialus nodded and raised his hands in a dramatic, almost exaggerated gesture. “Well done, captain. If the gods are willing, we shall secure the peace.”

Combining love for poetry and mythological epics with membership in an ancient aristocratic family, the consular could effectively play the part of a heroic leader or a wise counselor, at least in a theatrical sense.

“You would have made a fine Emperor, sir,” Hesiodos commented.

Justialus chuckled. “Emperor?” he began, “Who would want such a dubious honor? No, my friend, I prefer to die in the comfort of my bedchamber.”


:::::: A Few Hours Later; Port of Massilia; Gallia Transalpina ::::::


Justialus and his entourage listened with growing concern as Prefect Castor Sibiarus of Gallia Transalpina recounted to them the events of the past week.

The Consular turned to his aides. “Forget the ‘bonus’… now this legion must obey my instructions if the men wish to live. We have a true mess on our hands.” His voice lowered. “Flavius Iudicius may not be a stable individual. We have our work cut out for us. But first, we must deal with this legion and our Princeps’… nepotic appointee.”

Led by Sibiarus and a group of municipal officials, the small party moved quickly to the villa that Legate Daia had commandeered as a praetorium.

They were rapidly admitted.

“Ave consular, what is the occasion of this visit?” the legion’s commander asked.

“This is urgent senatorial business, legatus. Gather your senior officers.”

“I would like to know what this is about first,” the general requested.

Justialus frowned. “You have disturbed a hornet’s nest, Legatus, and I wish to… calm this storm. We have brokered a truce between parties, Raeus Vitellius shall be the Emperor of Rome, and pending the arrival of additional orders from legitimate authority you must submit yourself to the Senate.”

“I act… under the direction of a man who has received power by delegation from the propraetor,” Manus responded.

“Really?” began the consular, “It seems that the propraetor has neglected his responsibilities during this time of emergency, as Prefect Sibiarus reports that he is nowhere to be found. Now, if you have orders of delegation from Claviticus, please show them to me.”

The legate sighed loudly. “I shall summon my officers for you, consular.”


:::::: A Short Time Later ::::::


Julius Aquilianus stood at attention outside the chamber of Legate Daia. His post’s proximity to the commander’s office allowed the young sentry to overhear the conversations within the room, at least when the men involved raised their voices. Julius knew that he held a position of great responsibility, at least by the standards of the common legionary.

A flurry of movement caught Julius’ eye. He spotted a group of distinguished-looking men, led by his own centurion. One of the officials he recognized as Castor Sibiarus, the Provincial Prefect. Sibiarus had been in and out of the Legate’s office several times previously, and his conspicuously large ears made him hard to forget. But today, the local administrator was not the center of attention. Julius could not recognize the most prominent member of the approaching party, but the man advertised his importance with distinctive shoes and the broad, purple-striped toga of a Senator. “I wonder what this is all about,” Julius thought to himself while staring straight ahead. The soldier’s youth prevented him from identifying the delegation leader. If he had been a veteran of Minerva, Julius probably would have recognized Gaul’s former proconsul.

The sentry heard the newcomers greet Legate Daia and exchange some brief pleasantries before beginning their conversation. Only a few minutes later, the centurion paced out of the chamber. He turned to Julius. “Find the praefectus castrorum and tell him to come immediately.”

“Yes sir!” The young man saluted and set out to find the senior officer.

After ten minutes, the legatus legionis, the praefectus castrorum, and several of the Tribunes stood together in the Praetorium awaiting the words of the Justialus Pius. Julius stood alongside them.

Legate Daia looked up at the legionary briefly. “Soldier, return to your post,” he snapped, waving his hand. Julius saluted and left the chamber.

Over the next twenty minutes, Julius heard only pieces of the conversation. The words emitting from behind the door worried him, “…attacking legions…”, “…no other choice…”, “…possible detention…”, and finally, “…you must submit to the Senate and People!” followed by some murmurs.

The meeting ended as abruptly as it had started. The officers exited quickly, followed by the legate himself and then the visitors.


Legate Daia, in a very quick pace, made for his officers but not before stopping to see Tetricus whom he found overlooking maps of Gallia Cisalpina.

Tetricus, looking up to see Manus enter his presence, frowned at the legate and quickly came over to him asking in earnest, “Well, what is going on?”

“I’ve come to warn you, Consular Pius has arrived to make a truce and so part of his mission was to take over this legion and now he’s reopening supplies to Lucius Verus!” Manus quickly stated in a low tone.

“What!” Tetricus shouted, which caused Manus to motion for him to be quiet.

“That’s not all my friend, he’s going to arrest you and bring you back to Rome.” he paused, “Perhaps he made some deal with the rebels I don’t know he didn’t specify. All I do know is I came here to warn you so you could slip away.” Manus informed him.

Tetricus looked crushed and heavily saddened. He had hoped that the consular’s visit would benefit him not hinder him so. His disbelief turned to anger as he paced about and cursed his traitorous friends who seemed to have abandoned him in low murmurs. His curses also became focused on the northern army and Gothicus once again; how one man could cause so much strife and heartache in death was beyond comprehension.

“Tetricus,” Manus said with haste, grabbing the consul by the arm, “…Justialus is sending a guard after you very soon. You must go!”

Tetricus looked about in a hurry and then at the legate, “They may still catch me…”

“They won’t I have a small escort outside they are loyal to me, they will help you slip out. The guards on duty near the first cohort or loyal soldiers, you’ll get out.” he told him. If this legion is knocked out of the conflict you must continue on!” he stated with passion.

Tetricus, grudgingly nodding his compliance, sighed and grabbed the legate on the shoulder in a firm grip, “Thank you Manus. You are indeed a loyal friend of Rome.”

With those parting words, he quickly grabbed a few things and slipped out, meeting up with the escort to usher him away.

It came not a moment to soon, for no sooner had he left then a tribune with a few men came to the room Manus was in.

“Sir, we are here to escort Consul Vitellius to see the consular.” the officer paused, “Have you seen him?”

Manus inhaling deeply turning around slowly with an arm on his hip looking confused and dumbfounded, “No tribune. I came here myself looking for him but he seems to have left this area.” he paused, “Search the camp. I’ll start with some men over near the quarters of the first cohort, you men start near the fifth and we’ll work our way through, alright?”

The tribune, being non-the-wiser, nodded in compliance. “Yes general.”

Half an hour later, the legate and the senator returned to the praetorium. Both men were frowning, but the politician seemed particularly distraught by events. Julius’ attentive ears strained to catch what they were saying. Again, he heard only pieces. “That man escaped…”, “…under your nose…”, “…still more ho-ha…”

Julius blinked his eyes several times, trying to concentrate. He had a feeling that his comrades would be in for a tough few weeks.


:::::: Days Later; Praetorium of Massilia ::::::


Consular Justialus Pius and Prefect of Gallia Transalpina, Castor Sibiarus, greeted Flavius Iudicius as he entered the Praetorium of the city, accompanied by three other generals.

“Ave legatus, welcome to Massilia,” Justialus began. “Tragically, I am sorry to inform you we arrived too late to prevent an attack on your auxilia cohortes. Tetricus had convinced the officers of the consular legion that their support was needed to save Rome from another sack. As such, they attacked your garrison.” he paused and walked around a bit and began to use his hands as he continued on, “I spoke with the legion’s commanders however, and informed them of our agreement for the salvation of Rome. The legate released all prisoners to our care,” he stated nodding to Castor, “and they are currently residing in the city. I also regret to inform you that Tetricus fled very soon after to an unknown location, but he is no longer in command of the consular legion and as you noticed, we restored the supply lines to your army.”

“You and your men are welcome to stay in this city for as long as you wish,” Castor added, trying to convey their most pleasant gestures toward the legate who was quickly looking irate.

Flavius was visibly upset at the news he heard. “Where is Tetricus...” he asked in a low voice, not caring for the general comment Justialus stated on his whereabouts.

“I would suspect that he fled either north, to his supposed ‘partisans’ in central Gaul, or south by sea... in which case he may be fleeing as far as Africa.” Justialus explained before adding some additional observations and points.

Flavius, still in a low voice now asked, “Where is Legatus Daia and Minerva then?”

Justialus responded, “They have submitted themselves to the will of the Senate and Imperator Raeus Honestus. They have moved away from Massilia in order to deescalate the situation, just as Proconsular Aelianus Julius Vitellius has asked his legions to partially remove themselves from their current position.”

Flavius looked to one of his other commanders and laughed; the laughing then quickly died away and he looked at the consular coldly, “How convenient then consular... how very convenient. I think I see now why you did not wish to travel with me...”

Justialus responded promptly. “I did not wish to travel with you because I might have averted the previous bloodshed. Unfortunately, I was too late, as the prefect can attest,” he turns to Castor. “You were with me during the negotiations, legatus. Your leader was not familiar with the precise location of the consular legion... and I was no wiser than him. Massilia is the first port of call, of course, and it seems that the gods chose this city for a battle between Romans.” he sighed. “Thank the gods that it shall be the last.”

Flavius responded in a low, harsh tone, “As I see it gentlemen, there is distinct favoritism against the army of Gothicus and favoring of men like Consul Tetricus.” he paused, “I have heard nothing that Honestus is Imperator, and therefore has no authority to legally do anything. Decius I am quite positive is still Princeps and Imperator and yet, the Senate instead is here, perhaps assisting their consul to flee.” he paused before adding, “And of course the only people who might know where he is have conveniently moved elsewhere per your orders. I find it highly suspicious consular that after your arrival Tetricus disappears...”

Justialus put forward an explanation, “There are some men in the legion who allowed him to escape, regrettably. Others, including the legate, attempted to detain him. I fail to see how this reflects favoritism on my part or the Senate's.” he paused and made an appeal, “Legatus, have you not received your supplies? Are not your men... a majority of them... in good care in this city? Is not Tetricus a refugee... and exile? The entire situation is favorable to the position of the Honorable Lucius Verus, your commander.”

“You assume that consular!” Flavius snapped in response, conveying quickly and in a low tone the objectives he saw himself out to see done.

“Your immediate objective in this specific march is to secure your supply line, as you told the Proconsular Legate, and we are pleased to report that the objective has been fulfilled.” Justialus responded.

“Then I shall make for my secondary objective...” Flavius coldly stated before turning to Prefect Sibiarus “I want the survivors of the two cohortes turned over to me immediately,” Flavius demanded.

Justialus smiled. “Of course, they have been waiting for your arrival for the past week, in comfortable quarters. As we mentioned earlier, you are welcome to join them, unless you wish to return immediately to your central command in Gallia Cisalpina.”

Flavius returned the smile, “We are will not be staying I’m afraid.” He turned to one of his commanders and in voice loud enough for the others to hear said... “Arm them immediately and re-task them to hold the supply lines... we’re going after them...”

“At once sir…” stated the Roman officer with a salute.

Justialus frowned and seemed confused, “After them?”

Flavius turned to the consular, “Yes. Minerva. Friends of Tetricus lie within that legion, I wish to know where they helped Tetricus slighter himself too. At the very least they can tell me most probable hiding locations or places of refuge.”

“His friends could tell you no more than his enemies, legatus. Even if he provided information, he might have lied or changed his mind en route. I have sent men north already to investigate his apparent centers of support in Gaul in case he attempts to stir up trouble in those provinces. Otherwise, he is almost certainly at sea.”

Flavius smiled wickedly, “I'd rather be safe than sorry... Minerva is my next objective.”

“Perhaps he is in or nearing Hispania, which he may approach by land or sea,” Justialus continued.

“I’d be more likely to bet he’d go to Britannia...” Flavius interjected.

Justialus shrugged and sighed, “You may be correct, but the late magister has plenty of men in Britannia. You could send word to them and have them keep an eye out for him. Or, if you really prefer, go there yourself.”

“Don’t you worry consular...” Flavius began, “...we'll get him even if we have to tear apart every village in Gaul to find him.”

Justialus began to argue some more and this only made Flavius more irritated with the discussion, as he felt that the consular and his companions were merely delaying him and giving both Minerva and Tetricus more time.

Flavius turned to one of the other generals and ordered, “See it done.” before looking to another, “Send cavalry forces along the main highways, and assemble the men, we're heading after Minerva.”

Justialus suddenly stood up and became very grim in his words, “Legatus, neither your proconsular legate nor Honestus would approve of an attack on the consular legion. To shed Roman blood after the peace arrangement would be a very grave affair.”

“They shed blood first!” Flavius snapped back, turning toward the consular in a fit of rage.

“Yes, before word of the peace arrangement had arrived!” Justialus retorted in a raised voice; showing he was not going to be intimidated by an arrogant young legatus. “Most of your auxiliary troops survived and are in good health.” he said pointing in their general direction, “Agreements and truces could never work if retaliation continued for bloodshed that took place before agreements. Furthermore, your supply lines are entirely intact,” Justialus argued.

“If you think I'm going to let these men get away with killing our brothers and comrades after betraying Gothicus and siding with Tetricus and then hiding behind this veil of ‘peace’ and allowing Tetricus to escape then you are sorely mistaken consular.” Flavius stated with purpose.

Justialus shook his head slowly, and sighed in frustration before looking the legatus back in the eyes, “They had been convinced that your army was going to sack Rome, and ‘pax’ is not a mere veil to hide behind. It is a sacred condition that must be respected. They could have fortified themselves in this city and they could have continued to hold your prisoners. They did not. The men of the consular legion have accepted the peace.”

“Pfft…Concord...” Flavius shook his head, obviously gesturing his insult toward the goddess of harmony and accord. “They knew that if they stayed here we would arrive and we have. Now... now we will finish what they have started.”

Justialus refused to accept this answer. “No legate, you should prove that you are a Roman who takes order... takes orders from the man who was designated by the late magister himself as person heir... and I assure you that Lucius Verus would not approve of a revenge mission after the peace against a consular legion.”

“Gothicus would... and we are his men.” Flavius shot back before adding, “And yes, Lucius Cruentus is the magister but even he would approve of this. You do not know him as we do.” he now began to turn away and walk out with his other generals; not before adding, “So without further ado consular, we shall be on our way and we are leaving the cohortes behind to ensure a garrison is here as per Cruentus’ orders.”

“You are making a horrible mistake!” Justialus shouted at Flavius, “The gods condemn Tetricus for shedding Roman blood needlessly, and they shall do the same to you if you attack that consular legion!”

Flavius ignored the consular’s words as he, followed by his men, all left their presence.

“You know that you could not afford to chase one legion around Gaul with your several had we not arranged for peace. And so you, too, profit from the peace, legatus! But to profit from the peace without observing it is cowardly,” Justialus shouted as the commander departed.

The politician rubbed his head in frustration and turned to Castor, in obvious frustration.

“We divide our population into Senatorial nobles, equestrians, common citizens, provincials, foreigners, and slaves. But in truth, there is a more meaningful division of humanity. There are those who think with their minds and those who think with their guts… or their groins. This man Flavius is in the latter category, and yet he commands legions! I wish to the gods that our social classes and hierarchies would correspond with mental aptitude and competence.”

Castor nodded. “If only, sir…If only.”

As Flavius stormed out, hell bent on his mission, he fumed over the discussion he had just had.

“The nerve of that consular!” he said, commenting to one of his comrades. “In a perfect world Rome is ruled by strong willed, honor bound men, not ones who enjoy the trappings of life and sit on their collective asses discussing peace. Rome was not built on peace! Rome did not become great by talking out her differences! When Aeneas came, he made war with the Latins. When Rome needed women we took them from the Sabines! When Remus insulted Romulus he killed his brother, there was no truce, no ‘let’s all be friends and get along!’ Damnable Senate!” he finished in a curse.

Flavius shook his head in anger and frustration.

“What now sir?” asked the officer.

“Now?” he gave a slight huff with a wry grin, “Now we find Minerva and get them to talk, one way or another.”



Written by: Neos Dionysos and Jupiter Optimus Maximus
Input by: Ferus Juventus, Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius, Decius Lucius Verus and Acedus Decius Daia.
Wed, 28 May 2008 03:59:29 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11288 *An older man with an unusually large escort of guards gathers the attention of those in the forum.*

“I speak the words of the Pontifex Maximus.

The following is the last will regarding the estate of Consular Pontifex Maximus Tactius Julius Flavus Mercenas.

Twenty-five percent of Tactius Julius Flavus’ holdings are to be transferred to the Flavus Family Estate.

One half of Tactius Julius Flavus’ holdings are to be donated to the Temple Estate and to be used for the good of the gods.

All slaves owned by Tactius Julius Flavus shall be given the chance to buy their freedom.

The country villa located in Carthago, Africa shall be given ownership to my nephew Brutus Arathae Flavus.

The country villa located in Brundisium, Campania shall be given ownership to my son Titus Pompeius Flavus (NPC).

The country villa located near Lake Albano (Southwest of Rome), Latium shall be sold to the highest bidder with the funds be directly donated to the temple estate.

The country villa located outside Rome, Latium shall be taken over by the Flavus Family Estate.

The remaining funds and holdings of Tacitus Julius Flavus are to be sold and used to fund a great celebration to honor the gods and for the people of Rome.

Signed,

Tacitus Julius Flavus Mercenas”
Sat, 24 May 2008 18:37:50 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11285 :::::: Novemberis 131ad; Trinovantes Royal Fortress, Britannia Superior ::::::


Decius Lucius Verus gasped for breath as he collapsed next to Queen Verctissa in bed. His heart pounded like a drum in his ears and he had to close his eyes to regain his focus. Soaked in sweat, he rolled to his side and tried to steady his breath. Verctissa merely offered a teasing laugh as she stretched her body in obvious satisfaction. He turned to grin at her before he leapt out of bed. His muscles ached and he felt much like he did after a battle, exhausted and sore. These last few months had been unlike anything he had ever previously experienced. They had been dominated by a haze of lust that had spread itself across all aspects of his life. He had barely ever left the royal fortress in these last few months, leaving only to take place in the trial against Proconsular Legate Cassius Julius Verus in Belgica. Most of the time in the fortress was spent in her majesty’s private chambers, and few places else. He had never met a woman quite like her before. There was something wild and untamable about her. Their sexual exploits were often violent and turbulent; more the manifestation of pure unadulterated lust than any real fondness for one another. When he was with her, it was like all the manners and reservations that contained normal, civilized men came crashing down. There were no boundaries; everything was permitted. You simply gave in to your desires. It was liberating in a way and as he reluctantly admitted to himself, dangerously addictive; especially for a man who felt so drawn towards the battlefield. Here, he seems to have found the perfect replacement.

Obviously he knew that she used him. He didn’t mind, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps it was because that despite everything, she seemed strangely harmless. He had no qualms with promising her what support he could give. After all he was not even commander of the North. He was only the second-in-command and that role fit him comfortably, despite her constant machinations to get him to undermine his commander. The idea that something might happen to Iovinianus rarely entered his mind, though he had been increasingly worried as of late.

Iovinianus had gone to Rome to explain his actions despite Lucius’ advice, as well as the advice of his entire officer staff, with guarantees of safe passage from Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius. But Lucius knew that the word of the consul was not worth the breath it took to utter it. Not only was he the bastard child of rowdy Gauls later taken in by a traitor who took pity on him, but Lucius was also convinced that the consul had had a hand in the death of Divus Persicus. As a protégé of the traitorous Dominus Augustus Varro, he certainly had motive. It therefore seemed likely that the invitation was nothing more than a trap.

Still, Lucius had always trusted in Iovinianus’ judgment, as he had with all of his commanders. No doubt, he knew what he was doing. Iovinianus had brought along all of his guard and he was taking precautions. It was also a safe notion to note that should they attempt anything a massive army would descend on Rome and there would be no force to even attempt to defend it. Besides, it was well known Iovinianus held the personal trust of Imperator Pompeius Septimus Varro; the man gave him free reign nearly. If anyone attempted something on the magister, they would have the Imperator and the Northern Army to answer to. Surely, Lucius and Iovinianus both surmised, no one would be stupid enough to attempt something with all of those factors in play. Yet still, part of what weighed on him so heavily was the talk he had had following Julius Verus’ trial with the magister, just before he departed south to Rome. Promises had been made; promises that he would have to keep if their fears ever came to fruition.

Verctissa looked at Lucius Verus with an admiring glance, as he bent down to pick up his clothing from the floor. Taking him on as a lover had been a calculated effort. She had tried to seduce Iovinianus but he had rejected her efforts, staying true to his wife, the Gothic Queen Mariniara. When she died, Verctissa thought she would try and again and be successful on a second try. That is, until she heard how his wife’s death had broken him. She was disgusted by such showing of weakness. Furthermore, the wretch had taken on a defeated and captive Germanic queen as his new consort. Such actions demonstrated to her that he was clearly below her and that she was better off not succeeding. Where Iovinianus was weak and impotent, Lucius was strong and virile. He was Iovinianus’ natural successor, anyone could see that. All it took was a bit of guidance in the right direction for him to take over and become one of the most powerful men in all of Rome. And she could control him. She felt confident about that. These last few months she had practically had him wrapped around her little finger. She had to admit that there were parts of him that had caught her off guard. She had been surprised by his magnetism from the first moment she saw him. He was handsome enough and well-built despite his relative lack of size. It was as if there was an intangible connection between them. She knew he felt it too. As a lover he had been more than satisfactory. However, despite her constant machinations, her whispers at his bedside, he had continually refused to betray his friend and commander and claim his position for himself. It annoyed her, but she was certain he would relent eventually. It was the natural order of things. The weak is always succeeded by the strong; survival of the fittest. That was Lucius now. Iovinianus had grown weak, and change was needed; she knew it. She had to admit that part of her hated him for rejecting him; the worm. How dare he reject her? A queen no less? She had always gotten what she wanted and soon she knew she would have her revenge, and with it an influence of power she had not known before. Soon enough, even the fate of an empire as mighty as Rome would lie in her hands.

As Lucius pulled his tunica over his head, the door to the chambers burst open and an uncomfortable Romulus Brutus Terpus stepped inside. Lucius shot him an annoyed glance as Verctissa covered herself in the sheets on the bed. Never had he ever come in unannounced and Verctissa, seeing Lucius glare knew she did not have to speak.

“This had better be damned important tribune.” he coldly stated with authority.

Brutus seemed to hesitate for a moment as he looked from the queen to Lucius; before taking in a deep breath.

“General…” he paused and swallowed his breath momentarily, “I am sorry to barge in but…” he paused again much to the annoyance of Verctissa and Lucius.

“Out with it.” Lucius demanded.

Brutus looked down for a moment and then looked up at his commander with anxious and fearful eyes answering with, “Magister per Occidens Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus is dead sir.”

The words crashed into Lucius like a destructive tidal wave sent by Neptune. His eyes seemed to go blank and he attempted to speak but nothing came out. Licking his lips he finally was able to ask, “How?” in a low, distant voice.

“When he went to Rome, Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius had him arrested and Princeps Acedus Decius Daia allowed it. Within a day, the Princeps announced that the magister had taken his own life and that he admitted to committing treasonous acts against Rome. The Princeps detained fifty of his guard and then had them along with his entire entourage executed as well.” the tribune seemed shocked by his own words, “He… he had the bodies of the Gothic guards impaled on spikes outside the gates of the city.”

Lucius was beside himself. He felt light headed and dizzy and as he turned away momentarily he placed one of his hands on his forehead as if to help himself regain his thoughts and bearing. As Verctissa slowly began to move across the bed toward him, the sheets held up to her chest, he wheeled quite suddenly back around toward Brutus.

“What’s happening in Rome?” he half asked, half demanded.

“Anarchy sir.” began Brutus. “Riots are rampant and the city is in an uproar against all non-Romans especially those of Germanic, Gallic, Belgic or Gothic descent. People are killing innocents because they look barbarian and the crowds are applauding the death of the magister. The riots have gotten so out of hand the Tullian palace was burned to the ground, no word as yet if there were any casualties.”

Lucius shook his head in disbelief and as Verctissa reached out to touch him he eyed Brutus again and almost refusing to believe asked, “Everyone is dead?”

Brutus re-thought his comments and corrected his remarks adding, “Yes sir. Well, everyone except the Gothic princess.”

Lucius, his mind ablaze with thoughts seemed genuinely confused, “Gothic princess?”

“Yes sir, uh…Amalafrida the Germanic Suevi and Quadi Queen.” Brutus stated, adding more details.

“Right…” Lucius seemed to respond, nodding his head ever so slightly.

“Sir, as per the magister’s last orders Legate Tiberius Lucius Carus has assumed his position as Propraetorian Legate of the Belgic legions and the legates have already assembled the army.” Brutus paused. “They await only you sir.”

Lucius stood frozen solid. He neither moved nor spoke. It all suddenly came crashing home, everything. He no longer was confused, he no longer held questions. Now his mind ran read with rage and fire while his heart sank, running mad with remorse, sorrow and regret. His friend, his brother, his commander was dead. Once again his commander had fallen victim to the political worms that infested the carcass that was the Roman Senate. He grew dizzy. He felt Verctissa’s arms wrap around him from behind; feeling the softness of her breath against his neck, her whispers of comfort in his ear. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as he clenched his fists. He opened his eyes and looked firmly at Brutus, a fiery intensity lit within the pupil of his eye.

“Leave us.” was all he quietly yet authoritatively said.

Brutus quickly saluted and turned around to leave. As soon as he had closed the door, Lucius heard Verctissa chuckle at his ear.

“This is the chance we have been waiting for.” she began in a sweet, seductive voice, “The chance to make you king.”

Annoyed, Lucius untangled himself from her arms and stepped away trying to focus his thoughts. But she was over him again. He was unable think; unable to focus. Iovinianus; was he really dead? He remembered all the times they had sat drinking, swapping wartime stories as well as stories of young foolery. The time Lucius had told him about the kid at Palmyra came to his mind suddenly, the one who fell on his sword.

Everything in his head grew hazy, an indistinguishable blob in which it was impossible to tell one memory from the other; all but one that is. This one memory seemed to grow increasingly clearer with each passing second and was outshining and overpowering all others. The memory of a promise made before Iovinianus had left; a promise between friends, between brothers.

He tried to focus once again but Verctissa’s voice constantly gnawed its way into his conscience.

“You should gather your men. Let them see that you are their new commander. Your Emperor will have no choice but to acknowledge you.” she cooed, “To acknowledge your power. Then…” she said, as she moved behind his back, whispering in his ear, nibbling at his ear-lope as her hand crept down his spine. “…you will bide your time and take his place.” Lucius closed his eyes. For a second he was tempted to give in. Once again he felt the lust that had grown all too familiar these past few months. How he wanted her. Yet, even as it pressed its way into his mind, it was pushed back by something else, by a promise, a commitment.

He opened his eyes and laughed as he once again untangled himself from Verctissa’s grasp.

“Me? Emperor!? Surely that would mean the fall of Rome!” he argued, attempting to convince her and part of himself that he was correct.

She seemed unaffected as she walked towards him again. A sly smirk spread across her lips as their eyes met.

“You underestimate yourself. You would make a great king. Men follow you. Die for you. Imagine how powerful Rome would be with you at its head.” her hand slid to his cheek and gently caressed the scar that ran through his right eye. She leaned her head in closer, their lips mere inches apart.

He felt the lust force its way back. The urge to lean forward and kiss her was very strong, but he resisted, even as her arms wrapped around the back of neck and played with his hair. He looked straight at her, the intensity of his eye matching hers.

“And you? What would you gain?” he asked with apparent curiosity. She gave a light chuckle and seemed about to answer when he interrupted her. “No. Don’t answer. I already know.”

With that, he untangled himself once again and walked towards the other end of the room as far away from her as possible. He turned to face her, and as he did so, his back straightened and his eye flared, the force of his physical presence causing Verctissa to subconsciously take a step back.

“I will not name myself king, or anyone else who does not deserve such a title. No, I will honor the promise I gave to a friend.” he paused, and with force added “A promise of justice, for him and for Rome.” Lucius took a few more confident steps towards Verctissa who grew increasingly annoyed. “I leave for Belgica as soon as the winds allow too lead Iovinianus’ forces and march on Rome. The Emperor has no idea what he has monsters he has awakened.”

Verctissa frowned but then reverted to her sly, seductive smile, as she walked towards him again. He did not move away or try to push her aside.

“Think about it, Lucius. What do you gain by such an action? Will they not call you a traitor? No. Stay here with me, where it’s safe. Let me help you…” She pressed her lips hard against his and guided his right hand to cup her breast. He savored her taste once again before he pushed her away.

“You have already helped me enough, your majesty. I thank you for your time but I must take my leave.” he stated with some resentment; knowing that he had been in her snare this whole time and had not seen things clearly.

Verctissa’s reaction came as a surprise. A sudden boiling rage seemed to bubble to the surface and she slapped him hard across the face. She moved to strike again but he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her away. He turned to leave towards the doorway when he saw a ceramic jar fly past him and smash into a hundred pieces against the walls as the queen screamed at him.

“Go ahead then! March to your death! You Romans are all the fucking same! I promise I will dance on your grave!” she screamed with venom.

Lucius did not say anything; he merely stood at the doorway, his back to her taking in her words.

“Get out!” she screamed suddenly as she fumbled to grab something else to hurl at Lucius.

But he was already out the door and a few seconds later it was closed behind along with her screaming tantrum.

He closed his eyes and sighed. So this was what fate had had in store for him. To march against Rome. He never would have thought it possible. Yet, here the moment was. He lingered in his trance-like state for a few seconds. The screams which had now turned into wailing and crying behind the door seemed as distant as were they but a whisper. Shaking it off and walked down the hall. He had to find Brutus. They would sail for Belgica at the first favorable wind. And a wind did not come, he vowed he would fucking blow the sails all the way there himself.


:::::: Januarius 132ad; Gallia Transalpina ::::::


The wind pulled at his tunica and sagum as Decius Lucius Verus peered towards the mountains in the horizon; the Alps. He grew strangely thoughtful. Trying to think of how long he had wanted to see them drawn against the horizon. How many days had he waited to see such a scene? Now he was finally here; each step drawing him inexorably closer to Rome.

He shook his head at the thought of the ‘eternal city’.

Who would have ever thought the ever-loyal Lucius Verus would march on the city? The man who had fought for her, bled for her, sacrificed an eye to her; him least of all certainly. Yet here he stood. He did not want this. He did not want to command the Northern Army, he never did. He did not want to lead them to Rome. He was a soldier, not a leader. Yet, it seemed this was the destiny afforded him by the Gods. He was bound by a promise made to a friend, a promise to see justice. To see Rome rid of the corrupt tyrants that sucked at her teat. It had fallen to him; for there was no one else.

Despite his reluctance, he knew that this task went beyond him. After all, he was but a man. Rome was something far greater, something worth fighting for, worth protecting and safeguarding; worth dying for. Iovinianus had known and understood this, despite whatever they thought back in Rome. That was why he had never marched against the city, never went against it. It was true he issued veiled threats, threw his weight around but when push came to shove; he was Roman. Lucius knew he would have backed down at the very gates; because he could not have gone through with it. Everything he had done, everything he was attacked for had been for the good of Rome; to protect her borders, to strengthen them.

Lucius knew there were those who viewed his own actions as a quest for personal glory. How little they knew. How little they understood. Did they even understand the true nature of what Rome was? From where its greatness came, or did they just take it for granted, spouting meaningless drivel? When all of this was over and done with, he would gladly relinquish his command, if so demanded. He would even be prepared to face an executioner and answer for his actions. He did not care about what happened to him, whether he died here later. He did not see any alternatives to what he had done.

His thoughts now made him turn to his side, looking out across toward Gallia Cisalpina and Histria; thinking of Aelianus Julius Vitellius.

He knew the proconsular had seen things differently and thus went his separate way. Most likely he had gone to join with the Emperor. Lucius harbored neither resentment nor anger for the betrayal. It was disappointment what he felt; he was hurt by it.

He knew Julius had had his doubts and that he found the idea of marching on Rome apprehensible. Lucius knew it stemmed from Julius having suffered from being inside Rome when Justius Aegypticus sacked the city. Yet, why had he skulked away instead of voicing his objections?

Lucius sighed momentarily at his thoughts; ‘No matter’.

He would make his choice when the time came. Perhaps there was still some way to win him back. Surely he had to see that people like Actius Decius Daia and Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius could not be reasoned with. How could you, when every sentence they uttered was coated with lies? No. There could not, would not be any place for them; no quarter given. Not for men like them. How had Rome fallen into the hands of such men? Fallen so far from the reign of Divus Persicus? Things had to be restored to the way there were, lest Rome fall under the weight of such incompetence, such blatant disregard for any modicum of honor. And the only one who could restore Rome to her glory was Calidus Raeus Vitellius. Lucius was sure of it.

He let his eye slide across the sky. Clouds were spread across the heavens and blocked out the sun; so many different shapes. One looked like a galloping horse, another like an apple.

His thoughts were interrupted when Tribune Romulus Brutus Terpus stepped up beside him. “The men are ready, general.”

Lucius nodded slowly, his gaze still resting on the sky.

Brutus eyed him curiously. These past few weeks the proconsular had been a changed man. He was somber, thoughtful and reclusive. It was like he was entirely driven by this one purpose; his march on Rome. Even the sudden disappearance of Aelianus Julius Vitellius and rumors that he had joined with Actius Decius Daia, did not seem to concern him. He hardly seemed to get any sleep, often walking among the men at night. He seemed to be everywhere, always addressing them as equals and easing their concerns.

Even with the given consequences of their march, Brutus had never been prouder to serve under him and he knew many of the men felt the same way. In the absence of Iovinianus, Lucius Verus provided a banner of comfort they could look up to and depend on. Unshakeable, without fear he was the leadership they needed at this time. Though some of the men had uncertainties about the march and what it would mean for their families, Lucius provided a certainty they could lean against. In return, they repaid him with their loyalty.

“Do you think there is a place for me in Rome?” Lucius’ asked in a low almost mumbling voice to his lieutenant, which had caught Brutus by utter surprise. It seemed to have come out of nowhere. “When all of this is done?” he asked further, now looking at his officer.

For the first time in the past couple of weeks, Lucius seemed strangely tired. Brutus turned to look at his general and nodded.

“Of course general.” he stated, “Why wouldn’t there be?”

That response brought forward a slight smile on Lucius’ lips.

“I am a soldier. The only thing I’m really good at is killing people. Look at my life…” Lucius paused as he glanced back up towards the sky. “Do you know how many people I have killed? How many have died by my own hand?” Brutus shook his head nervously, uncomfortable with the topic. “643…” Lucius stated matter-of-factly as if it was some random statistic. “643 men, women and children…” Lucius sighed before continuing, “Who knows? Perhaps I will reach a thousand before my life’s end…” Sighing again in his thoughts he slumped his shoulders slightly.

He looked so weary, so unlike himself. Brutus shifted his position, visibly uncomfortable.

“What have I ever created? Built? I have only ever destroyed… It was all I was ever any good at. Why I am so comfortable on the battlefield.” he asked aloud neither searching for an answer yet still wishing to find one.

Brutus was about to raise an objection but Lucius raised his hand and cut him off.

“This… march…” he stated, his comments trailing, “is my chance to create something… to do something for a cause greater than myself. It is a chance for all of us.” he said with clairvoyance and pride.

As Lucius turned to look at Brutus, his usual cocky grin returned to his lips. Brutus smiled back, reassured in his commander. “We cannot fail. We must not fail.”

With that he turned around and headed back towards the camp where rows upon rows of legionnaires were assembled, waiting for him to address them. All of them were men of the Northern Army. Men he had served with, fought with; men who were like brothers to him. They were spread out as far as his eye could see.

Without another word he walked out to mount his horse. It was a beautiful thoroughbred Belgican mare. It stirred nervously a bit before he gently stroked it along the neck which seemed to calm her down and bring her under his control. Pulling on the reins, he slowly trotted out in front of the legions before turning to face them. They whispered and talked amongst themselves. Rumors ran rampant. As he looked upon them, he could see the other legates at the front of their legions looking to him, waiting what he had to say. Everyone’s attention was transfixed on Lucius at this moment and on his very words.

“Brothers!” he roared as loudly as he could, killing all whispers and talking.

Raising his right hand and began his speech, “The day we knew would come has arrived! The Emperor has decreed that we are all enemies and traitors of Rome!”

Immediately the army yelled out in answer, “No!” Not because they were shocked but because he would dare call them rebels when they were all certain they marched for justice.

“He has issued death warrants on my family and I!” Lucius said, now opening his arms out in a gesture to them, “Imagine! What emperor issues bounties on the heads of his subjects what man would dare to issue such a bounty on the head of my wife, the niece of Divus Persicus!”

Again the men roared and foamed with anger.

“He calls us barbarian scum! He says that we are no longer Roman!” he paused for a second and looked to the barbarian legions and continued, “I know many of you are not Roman by blood, but gods be damned you have all fought for Rome and in my eyes I see not a mixture of peoples I see Romans through and through! You have all bled, died and protected Rome, you are more Roman than those bastards in the Senate!”

A clamoring cheer and banging of sword on shield erupted from the barbarian legions at the words they heard.

He raised his hand so he could continue his speech, and the clamoring slowly died away.

“Despite what rhetoric they spout it is not we who have betrayed Rome my brothers, it is them! Our beloved Rome has fallen into the hands of corrupt men! Men who think of nothing but their own personal glory! Men who would willfully murder any man who would threaten their position!” he paused for a second and now delivered the final point to his army bellowing it out, “Men who murdered our beloved commander Iovinianus Gothicus!”

The entire army, especially barbarian ones and the 5th Gallicana and 42nd Construatrix erupted in violent shouts and hurled insults at the likes of the Senate, toward Tetricus Vitellius and toward Princeps Daia.

“I tell you brothers! Rome cannot live under the toil of such corruption or she will suffocate! And so it falls to us to save her! The Emperor may take away our pay! He may claim he can take away our citizenship! But that only shows to prove he knows nothing of what it is to be Roman! To be a Roman goes beyond status, beyond mere coin! It goes to the very heart of each and every one of us!” he stated in a fury, pointing to individual men at every turn and in all areas of the army.

“Because brothers, we are Rome!” Lucius paused as the men roared in agreement and waited a moment before he continued. “Let us show this excuse of an Emperor the true meaning of Rome! Let us show the coward, the wretch that we march now not because of coin or riches but for honor! For justice, for Rome’s very ideals and values! Therefore, I ask you now, my heroic brothers, will you come with me to Rome!? Will you help me run these bastards off the Tarpeian rock!?” As Lucius screamed the final parts of his speech, he drew his sword and aimed it at his men. The roar of agreement was deafening and sent a chill down his spine, even as every man down the line drew their gladius as well and drummed it against their shields. The legates having turned around to face their men, most of them encouraging and driving their men into an even greater fervor. The sound of their chanting echoed across the land surrounding them, reverberating into the very ground.

Lucius gave a cocky grin as he cast a brief glance down at Brutus who merely returned his smile. Once again the wheels were set in motion. Come what may, they would embrace whatever destiny was in store for them.


Written by: Decius Lucius Verus and Neos Dionysos
Input by: Tiberius Lucius Carus Fri, 23 May 2008 17:06:20 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11284 “The Price of Loyalty”


:::::: Iunius 131ad; Trinovantes Royal Fortress, Britannia Superior ::::::


Decius Lucius Verus impatiently drummed his fingers against the wooden table. How he loathed waiting. Yet here he was, second to one of the most powerful men in the western world and waiting at the behest of a woman. Part of him found the idea amusing while another part simply wanted to get up and leave. Then again, he had to admit he was fairly curious. It wasn’t every day you were personally summoned to meet with a queen. As the time passed he was certain Verctissa was letting him wait on purpose; to what end he did not know.

It was difficult to tell what kind of impression she had of him exactly. They had only met briefly once before when Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus had seen her during his campaign the year before. Despite his own deep involvement that was still how he thought of it; it was Iovinianus’ campaign not his in any way. He could not really think of himself as a part of it. It was likely because more than anything he realized he needed a captain in his life; someone he could look to and respect. He had always been uncomfortable with his role as a leader. First and foremost he was a soldier and he always followed his orders without question. It seemed fate had a cruel irony in that regard, however. Both of the commanders he had loyally followed had met their ends all too soon. Imperatores Helvius Tiberius Vitellius Persicus and Augustus Maximus Dio were both men he had been proud to serve; men he had looked up to and admired. Divus Persicus held an especially large place in his heart and mind.

It was different somehow with Iovinianus. He was not the older, wiser type of commander he equated with the others. He was more like a friend and brother. The two of them had grown somewhat close; Decius smiled a bit at that. He knew perfectly why, the two of them were much alike in a lot of respects. Both of them relied on their instincts, neither of them cared much for politics and both had an ugly side that came out in wartime.

Decius sighed a bit to himself as he looked around his surroundings. He mused over his current situation and his life thus far. He had always felt that following orders was a kind of compass that kept him in order during the downtime between the battles that raged in his life. Ever since Palmyra he had always had trouble with that part of his life. Fighting was his drug and when it was taken away from him, he sought other means to substitute it; drinking, whoring...whatever was at hand.

It had been no different following the latest campaign against the Britons. It had been barely a week after the end of hostilities before the depression had set in, causing him to start drinking fairly heavily and often visibly intoxicated. When Ducissa Mariniara died, Iovinianus went into a terrible depression himself and some questioned if he would pull himself out of it. It was a sad affair all around and the state his commander was in was pitiful to say the least. Regardless, with Iovinianus in such a state control of the Northern Army fell to him. Seeing that he was now the front man and the visible leader for the army he had straightened himself out as best he could and performed the task as ably as any man could have expected. Most men might have been grateful or even opportunistic after having come to command one of the most vaunted armies within the empire; yet Lucius had found it uncomfortable and was infinitely pleased when his friend pulled himself out of his stupor and returned to command the army.

He did not mind being stuck in Britannia for the time being; even though the legions had all officially returned to the mainland leaving a small garrison behind. Honestly it was not too different from Gothia Lucius surmised. There were certainly plenty of opportunities for him to indulge his vices. As people moved past him they seemed a blur in his vision as his mind began to drift and wander; his thoughts falling on a young barbarian girl he had enjoyed a few nights back. Lucius tilted his head as if was trying to remember exactly what was so intriguing about her. It must have been the odd yet wonderfully beautiful markings on her face he judged.

After a moment or so his thoughts of the girl shifted and he found himself thinking of his wife, Flaviana Vaeya Ianuarina. Was it guilt? He wondered, his face contorting a bit in a quizzical fashion. Not likely, he judged; shaking his head ever so slightly to himself. It was true that he cared about her a great deal. She was a wonderful woman; kind and honest, but more so than that she was the niece of Divus Persicus. Lucius realized how she was his link to the one thing that stood as the shining beacon in his life; and if nothing else was the reason she was on his mind.

They had not been able to spent much time together after their wedding. He gave a short and half-hearted huff at the thought, ’Thank you Iovinianus.’ he thought with great sarcasm since the reason their time was so short was because Iovinianus needed his presence for the Britannia campaign. since he had had to follow Vallentinus on his campaign in Britannia. Yet Iovinianus was not so cruel Lucius recalled, he did allow Lucius a couple months of marriage before he found himself on the savage island. Those months were not ill-spent either as he had heard she had already given him two sons.

Lucius smiled slightly to himself; that thought pleased him. It was not that he cared about having sons per say; infact he did not care and he was not particularly fond of children in the first place either. No, it was rather the happiness he knew it would bring Vaeya that pleased him; she loved children. Despite his comments that he was not fond of children she had been quite adamant that she wished some of her own and that it was the markings of a proper honored wife and matron to bear children to her husband; especially sons. That she had done so within the first year of their marriage seemed to indicate they carried the favor of the Gods. He also knew that the job of raising them would also give her something to do while he was away.

He sighed loudly and dispelled his thoughts, coming back to the here and now, sliding his hand across the wooden table and eyed the servant who stood across from him; a young man in his teens. He seemed to cower at Lucius’ gaze, which amused him somewhat. Finally, the doors to the royal chamber were opened and another servant stepped in and bowed before him.

“The queen will see you now milord.” the servant stated, very formally.

“About damned time…” Lucius muttered under his breath as he got up from his seat, picking his helm off the table and putting it under his arm. He used his free hand to straighten his cuirass while also clearing his throat. He had never been very comfortable with audiences like this, dating back to his time as commander of the Germanic legions. Diplomacy held no interest in his mind and whenever he thought of it, it conjured up images of men hiding in corners who constantly schemed against one another. No, he preferred meeting his enemies face to face.

As he walked into the royal chamber his gait was confident, the mark of years of military training and experience. Despite the fact that he was starting to near his forties, he still looked like a man in his late twenties. Time always seemed to have been kind to him and despite the large ominous scar that ran down his cheek and through his right eye, he was still the handsome young legate who had always been ever popular with the ladies. The royal chamber was rather simple, he thought to himself. Three large pillars stood in each side of the room, their tops and bottoms heavily ornamented with various figures. Various decorations and Romanesque tapestries dotted the room; all evidence of the tribes close trading ties to Rome. He paused briefly when he didn’t see anyone but a few servants. Where was the queen he wondered?

“Take a seat. I’ll be right out.” came a sharp, but still pleasant, voice from an open door to the right side of the chamber. Lucius slowly made his way to the chair, thinking that her accent had an almost melodic tone to it; seductive almost. He threw a hesitative glance towards the doorway before he sat down in the chair in front of the throne at the centre of the room. For a moment it seemed like she was once again content to play the waiting game, until he finally caught sight of her in the doorway. What his eyes beheld took him aback and his full attention was now on her.

She wore a revealing low-cut dress that did not seem like the typical choice of clothing for a queen. As she walked, the dress afforded an occasional glimpse at her long slender legs. Her eyes locked on to him and never looked away as she walked towards her throne He immediately equated her to a siren; drawing him in. Lucius attempted to keep his composure; afterall sirens were a man’s worst enemy especially when near rocky shores. Despite his best efforts he felt his pulse quicken and his throat grow dry. A sexual fantasy forced its way into his mind and he desperately tried to fight it off and regain his concentration. He had not been sure what to expect but this certainly was not it. As she sat down on the stone throne he looked away momentarily to clear his throat and regain some of his composure. He then closed his eye and took in a few deep breaths to try and regain his concentration. When he opened them again he saw her smile at him, an innocent enough grin which had the faintest traces of wickedness behind them. His mind desperately raced to find something to say to break the awkward silence.

With a stammering voice and a grin he gazed upon the queen and spoke, “You have a lovely meeting hall.”

Verctissa gave a wry grin at the comment and simply replied, “Why thank you Roman magistrate.”

Lucius did not know what was becoming of him. He was slowly descending into a state of idiocy and had to rethink his words and his thoughts; he could not for the life of him recall the last time he felt nor acted this way. When it came to women he had always been the confident and the charming one, the one who made others stutter or second guess. Yet here in front of this woman, this queen, the roles had been reversed. Was she really that beautiful? He had to admit to himself he had seen them prettier, at least on the surface. There was something else about her; something that went beyond the smooth curves of her figure, something raw. It was something he felt instinctively knew they had in common. What it was he could not quite say. All of his concentration he used to muster to sit straight and keep her gaze and hold his composure.

“My condolences for the death of your husband.” he stated, knowing full well his attempt to rattle her was rather pathetic. Yet it was the best thing he had been able to come up with. He watched her carefully with a sympathetic smile. King Mandubracius had allegedly passed on peacefully during the night a few months while ago. Lucius and Iovinianus, however, were both convinced that his wife had had some hand in his passing and recalling his commander’s words clearly the year before, he was certain now that she had seen an end to her aged consort. According to rumor she was a Venefica, possessing a more than passing knowledge of poisons and the last time Lucius had seen the king, he had seemed perfectly healthy. Indeed, he had been quite the story-teller.

Verctissa’s lips formed a sly smile at his comment.

“I thank you. I am still in mourning,” she stated wryly, the sly smile still resting on her lips “as you can see.”

“Yes…” Lucius trailed off, his eye still focusing on her slender physique. She moved her left leg up in the air evocatively and then crossed it over the other one. He felt another fantasy force its way into his thoughts and had to put his every effort into pushing it aside. Gods, how he wanted her; he thought to himself. It was like every part of her body called out to him; beckoned him. He had to fight to maintain his composure but it was clear enough that he was not going to fool himself and that she was well aware of the effect she had on him. Again the question, ‘Why?’ reverberated through his head. He could not quite place why. It was bestial, raw and savage. He simply wanted her; it was that basic. He wished to feel the softness of her skin against that of his own, the moisture of her kiss. She filled his mind completely, pushing everything else aside and into the background.

Closing his eyes once more he attempted to compose himself and then with some determination and some control looked her squarely in the eyes, remembering why he was there, and asked, “What can I do for you, your majesty?”

His voice was dry and coarse; he felt his throat curl up.

“My people…” she began, as her lips curved up into a slight grin. “…are in need of friends.” she paused, “Powerful friends. The actions of your commander, the ‘Master of the Roman West’,” she stated with a slight hint of distaste and contempt, “and his initiatives in this area have left us vulnerable due to our ties with him and Rome. With my husband’s death, I fear that the other tribes may try to take advantage of the situation, despite the treaty accords brokered between them and your lord.”

Lucius frowned. From what he had heard Iovinianus tell of her, she had always acted with supreme confidence. Yet, now she had called him in to ask for his aid; him of all people. The thoughts that this might be a setup made themselves known in his head yet, they were quickly drowned out by others thoughts. He cleared his throat and straightened up in his seat before replying.

“I see…” he paused and looked down for a moment before returning his gaze to her, “and why are you asking me? Why not ask Iovinianus? He is my commander and the warring tribal kings made their peace and accords with him. No doubt he would be able to provide greater help than I.” Lucius eyed her curiously as she rose slightly from her seat, moving toward a table with prepared fruits and drink. The sly grin on her lips had not faded for even a second. He was fascinated.

She poured up a cup and walked over to hand it to him, all the while his eye rested on every movement she made. As she stood in front of him, his eye slid up her slender figure. It was difficult to believe that she had given birth to three children. She handed him the cup and turned around to walk a few steps away. She made sure to sway her hips in a seductive manner as she walked, which distracted him once again. Finding himself unable to turn his gaze from her he choked down a large sip of wine in an attempt to calm down a bit and distract his mind. It sadly did not work.

She suddenly gave a light chuckle.

“Come now.” she began, her tone playful. “You and I both know that your ‘commander’ is not as strong as he once was… his time is passing…” she turned around to face him with a wry grin, “Yours on the other hand, is only just beginning.” She walked a step closer to him.

He felt his grip tighten around the wooden cup; his knuckles starting to whiten. He laughed nervously.

“Oh? Pray tell?” he asked, attempting to keep out of her snare, trying to look away from her; desperately trying to look away from her. Despite his efforts she continued to command his attention. Even his pathetic attempts to seem unaffected and brush her off did nothing to change it and she knew it. She offered a reserved laugh as she walked in even closer to him. Desperate, he took another sip of wine.

‘Damnit!’ he cursed to himself, the cup was already empty. He felt a drop of sweat run from his brow and past his eye.

She smiled wickedly, “Come now. There’s no need to be coy. We both know that you are a very powerful man. You command the loyalty and respect of your troops. They will follow you wherever you go.” she had inched even closer and now stood directly in front of him. She seemed to tower above him.

“Perhaps…” he relented. He felt himself lean further and further back in his chair in a vain attempt to distance himself from her. There was a tiny voice crying for him to just get up and walk away in the back of his mind, but it was increasingly drowned out by the overwhelming desire that seemed to fill up within him.

She leaned in towards him, their faces only inches apart. He could smell her scent, brisk and relentless. He closed his eyes in an effort to shut it out but it only reinforced the assault on his senses.

“I sense that you are a man who is not afraid to take what is rightfully his. Who fears neither death…” her voice had nearly descended into a sensual whisper, the wind of her breath caressing his right ear “…nor power.” She was as close to him as she could possibly be without touching him. He had to feverishly fight every single instinct in his body to stop himself from reaching out to touch her. Why had not he left? Why did he continue to sit there and let it come to this? Yet, the part of him that regretted and feared his situation grew overpowered by the part that reveled in it; welcomed it. “A man like you could be a very powerful… ‘Friend’.” she stated, her eyes locking onto his own as she whispered ‘friend’. There was something intangible between them. Something neither of them could define. Was it simple lust? Or did it lie deeper than that? She closed in further, her lips resting mere inches from his own; he could feel her breath against his chin. “Will you be a friend to me and my people, Lucius Verus?”

His heart raced. This was the first time in his entire life that Lucius had ever felt uncomfortable under the gaze of someone else; insecure even. He swallowed his saliva and tried to look at her with as much confidence as he could muster.

“And what would I gain from this…friendship?” he quipped, as he flashed his usual cocky grin; his confidence suddenly coming out. If this was the game she wanted to play, he found himself unable to resist playing along.

She gave a sly smirk in reply.

“The undying adoration of my people as well as my everlasting… gratitude.” she said trailing the last word for effect.

Despite how she seemed to constantly grow physically closer to him, she seemed to take great pains to avoid actually making contact with him. It was a strange yet elegant dance. Whenever he moved his hand forward or tried to lean up towards her, she would move away, but never further than they continued to remain mere inches apart. He grinned at her.

“Friendship huh?” he asked with a devilish smile, “And what, if I may ask, is her majesty’s idea of friendship?”

He still could not shake her scent. It seemed to fill up his mind to the point where he could scarcely contain himself any longer.

She returned his grin, her eyes lit with a hypnotic intensity.

“A bond of unity, I would give you what you need and you would give me what I need.” She was so close now. He could almost feel the weight of her lips pressing against his.

He offered a light chuckle, seemingly to act as if he had to think the situation over in his head, as if the decision had not already been made well in advance.

“Then let us be friends.” he quietly answered her.

He had barely spoken the words before she pressed her lips hard against his own. Her taste surprised him; sweet and fruity like the juice of an apple. As soon as their lips met, all of his carefully built defences came crashing down. His hands slid down her back to her hips and he held her fast, as he got up from his seat she cupped his face in her hands, holding him tightly. Neither of them broke away from their kiss, as he pushed her up against one of the pillars in the side of the room. When he finally withdrew with his trademark cocky grin, she only grudgingly released him and bit his lower lip as she pulled away. The familiar taste of blood washed out in his mouth and only served to heighten his desire.

Verctissa eyed her prey with great delight. She had him. She knew she did. Like all those she had come to use to her advantage before her she knew when had won. She wondered if it should have been harder, if it should have taken longer. Was he perhaps playing her? No, he could not be. Not from the look in his eyes or the ferocity of his actions. She laughed to herself as she watched him sensuously attack her physically once again. She had been denied her scheming a year before when Iovinianus had rejected her, but today she knew she would get her way. She always did. She had caught the lion by the tooth, literally. And now, now she just had to train it.

They stared into the eyes of one another without saying a word, until finally she forced her lips against his once again. His mind suddenly went into a blur as rapid, frantic motion filled his eyes. Everything that had previously plagued his mind and weighed his conscience was a distant memory. All that was left was the full and total commitment to the willing body in front of him.


:::::: Late Octobris 131ad; Tiberium Treverorum ::::::


“What!” exclaimed Legate Flavius Iudicius as he dropped his foot; letting his chair drop back from its leaning position.

“Repeat yourself officer.” ordered Legate Tiberius Lucius Carus as he took a step toward the officer standing before them.

“Magister Vallentinus has been arrested sirs,” he repeated “Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius had pre-arranged praetorians storm into the proceedings and arrest him as well as everyone of his entourage. Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus attempted to veto the action but Princeps Acedus Decius Daia allowed it to proceed.”

“Who came north with this news?” Lucius asked the officer.

“Iovinianus’ guard sir, the Princeps arrested fifty of them but released the rest and told him to tell us that the magister would be close behind them.” the officer answered.

“Bullshit!” Flavius let out standing up now looking to Lucius who had turned to look at his fellow general. “This is a setup and a trap.”

“What do you propose we do then?” Lucius said a bit anxiously.

“We collect the other legates.” he stated. “I don’t think we need to tell the proconsular yet. This won’t get out of hand.” Flavius paused, referring to Proconsular Legate Decius Lucius Verus. “The Princeps isn’t stupid he wouldn’t dare make such a bold move. He’s weak and a coward and if past actions is any indication he’ll simply hold onto Iovinianus for a while. The last thing he needs is an irate army on his hands.”

Lucius nodded in agreement. “I’ll send word to the others right away.”


:::::: Two Days Later; Emergency Staff Meeting ::::::


“So that’s the current situation gentlemen.” Flavius stated to the assembled legates from the surrounding provinces, crossing his arms.

“I think we should inform the proconsular, immediately.” stated Laenas Maxentius Volusius.

“No we need to act now.” Legate Sarus Damasus retorted. “If we wait for Lucius, who knows what will happen. We have to act and we have to act right now.” he stated, slamming his fist into the table for effect.

“I agree.” began Fravitta Revanus. “If we act now we might prevent further action by Gothicus’ enemies.”

The mood in the room was tense, everyone could tell there were two distinct parties forming fast. One, was marshaled be Maxentius who had known Iovinianus the longest of any commander present. He was his trusted friend, brother and second in the past. He was an honorable man who did things by the book and with caution and careful preparation, last to jump to reckless action and mindful of emotion and personal feelings. The other was marshaled by Flavius, who had become Iovinianus’ second when Maxentius went East to fight Persia under Divus Persicus and who saw in only black and white, and liked to solve problems at the end of sword. He was reckless, aggressive and very confrontational, a perfect carbon copy of Iovinianus during his later years he held great sway over the barbarian legions and his proven effectiveness as a commander and soldier makes him a formidable force. Lucius Verus tended to fall into Maxentius’ side of thinking while Propraetorian Legate Lucius Carus fell into Flavius’ mindset. It was clear who held the majority, but the side of reason and caution benefited from having the elder, more experienced and higher ranked men on their side and so they usually carried the decisions; usually.

“Iovinianus’ orders were specific, let us not forget that.” Sejanus Flavianus interjected, “Proconsular Legate Verus is our commander and we must obey him.” he paused, attracting annoying stares from several others, “I side with Maxentius. We should inform the proconsular and await further instructions.”

Flavius dropped his fist onto the table, letting out a very low thud; it was a mark of annoyance and not anger.

As the bickering became louder and just slightly more heated but still manageable, a messenger suddenly burst into the meeting; partially out of breath and leaning on the door as he inhaled and exhaled loudly.

Everyone in the room quieted and turned to see the officer who interrupted them.

“Sirs…” the officer began, still catching his breath, “…word from Rome!”

He extended his hand toward Maxentius with a note. Before he could take it Lucius Carus stepped forward and took it to read first, which he did rather intently; his eyes growing wide and his mouth opening in shock.

Everyone in the room became deathly quiet and awaited Lucius to speak up. He, slowly and methodically lowered the note and looked up at no one in particular; his eyes showing a glazed expressionless look.

“Iovinianus is dead…” Lucius quietly stammered.

Maxentius rushed to his side and took the note from Lucius who was still too much in shock to notice or care.

He quickly scanned what was written and in a sorrowful look tried to speak but merely nothing came out. His eyes quickly watered up ever so slightly and he swallowed his voice and said aloud, “Princeps Daia told Romans in the forum that Iovinianus had taken his own life when given the choice of exile and forfeiture of all his statuses, titles, honors and property as well as the honor and standing of his family or death,” he paused, “thereby keeping said honor and privileges but attempting to treasonous acts against Rome and her people.” he looked to everyone in the room and then continued, “His entire entourage, Kaeso included, and the fifty guards were executed and impaled on spikes outside the city walls… everyone one but Amalafrida.”

The room was still quiet and everyone around, the generals and their staff officers simply looked toward Maxentius while others began to exchange looks of building rage.

Flavius closed his eyes and clinched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He looked over at some of the other generals and all but a few now shared the same wrathful looks. He turned to Lucius who was now in control of himself and exhibiting great anger as well. The whole time, not a word was spoken. Flavius simply looked to Maxentius, and just eyed him conveying him unspoken words. Maxentius just closed his eyes in his agreement and Flavius, looking to the cadre of generals of staff aides and junior officers pulled out his sword raised it high and in a bellowing voice yelled, “Assemble the Army!”

The entire room, save Maxentius and Sejanus burst into a fevered, bloodlust cheer.

Maxentius quietly closed his eyes once more, and simply uttered the very soft and unheard words, “Gods help us now…”


Written by: Decius Lucius Verus and Neos Dionysos
Input by: Tiberius Lucius Carus
Fri, 23 May 2008 17:05:42 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11283 The End of an Era
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Near Apemeia, December 131 AD,
The Day After the Battle
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“Signed yours truly”
“Propraetorian Legate Augustus Tiberius Varro...”

“POLLO!!!” Tiberius yelled at the top of his voice until the old man entered the tent and found his commander sitting at his desk dressed in all his ceremonial garments, except for the heavy armor. Tiberius instantly stood up and walked over to Pollo who looked at his master and simply responded, “You know, scream like that long enough and someone in Rome might hear you.”

Tiberius smiled at Pollo and simply responded. “Old man, if I had to scream like that much longer you would be sent back to Rome in box.”

Pollo, a bit taken back by the comment rolled his eyes a bit and responded in kind. “I remember there was a time when I could punish you for such rude remarks to your caretaker. I like to think I have raised you better than that. Perhaps I need to take you over my knee for a few more years.” Pollo smiled at Tiberius, who in turn scratched his head and then put his hand on his mentors shoulder.

“What makes you think your knee won’t buckle under my weight? I’m not seven anymore old man.”

“No indeed your not, perhaps I should be calling you old man from now on, after all you are nearly twenty four, one of the oldest men in the world.” Pollo said with a deep hint of sarcasm that was so obvious that it was like a pink elephant in the room.

“Alright old man, enough of this bickering, save it for your wife, if I ever free you. With a mouth like that, if I freed you, you would be killed within hours of being left to yourself.” Tiberius responded.

“Perhaps, but at least then I will die a free man. All be it if I am married, I won’t die a happy man,” Pollo said as the two walked deeper into the tent and back towards Tiberius’ desk. Pollo took a seat as Tiberius continued to pace back and forth.

“What’s the matter?” Pollo asked with a look of concern on his face.

“Many things, but of the chief of my concerns are…” Tiberius was cut off in mid speech when a pampered and wealthy looking Tribune entered the tent and saluted.

“SIR!” the Tribune said as he fell at attention.

“Yes Tribune Daia?” Tiberius enquired.

“The men are assembled and the bodies are in place. We are ready for you.” Decius Maximus Daia, the eldest son of Imperator Decius Daia, responded. “Excellent! Maximus, please tell my assistants to come at once. Thank you.” Tiberius ordered as Daia saluted and left the tent to fetch Tiberius’ slaves.

“Pollo, before they get here I have letters I need you to send back to Rome and the Danube as soon as possible.” Tiberius finished his sentence and picked up a few scrolls already sealed on his desk.

“ I trust you will make sure that these letters get to the right people.” He looked down at the scrolls in his hand and started to hand them to Pollo one at a time with instructions on who they went too. “This first letter goes to Rome to Consul Probus, the second letter goes to Imperator Daia. The third letter goes to the legions of the Danube, the next letter goes to civilian government, and this letter goes to the legates and prefects on the Danube. Finally these last two letters; the first goes to Maecenas and the second one goes to Dio. I trust that you will take care of them in your usual manner and make sure they get to their destinations quickly. Now please old friend go and let us hope these letters can help mitigate the damages our legions face at home.”

Tiberius shook his head and waved Pollo off who instantly stood up and walked out of the tent without hesitation. Immediately after Pollo departed, Tiberius’s assistants arrived.

“About damn time you lazy bastards got here. Hurry, get this blasted armour on me so we may start the ceremony.” At his command, the slaves grabbed Tiberius’s ceremony armour and started to clad him in it.

Tribune Maccius Cicero Disius looked down at the pit in which the Persian prisoners sat. Sullen and depressed, their mood was in stark contrast to the joyous celebrations that had occurred mere metres away. Most would become slaves in some salt mines or grain farms, any number of jobs needing cheap expendable labour. Split from their families and their world most likely for the rest of their lives. Cicero didn't pity them; he knew his fate would by like theirs if fortune had dreamt of a Roman defeat.

But looking out on this large helpless mass he couldn't help but feel for the people who they left behind. Every Roman army camp is followed by a group of slavers, the scum of the earth, preyed upon the bravery of soldiers to make money. Profit was their only motive. Cicero saw fierce negotiations raging with the slavers and the generals’ staff.

While it is true that commerce is a most Roman virtue and that these men were essential to the running of an empire built on slavery, Cicero felt only hatred for them. Cicero went down to the pit, motioned the guard to walk away. He stared down at the huddled men, about to start a life of subservient misery. They might not have died in battle but someday soon they will die. And that day they will look forward to like no other."

The morning following the battle and the heady victory celebrations of the night, brought with it the grim task of cremating the dead from Legio II Ursus Hispaniorum; the Persian and Persian-Armenian prisoners were put to work under Roman supervision, gathering firewood for the pyres, stacking them up and collecting the dead. There was no time to perform individual ceremonies or to practice the correct rights for whichever gods they had worshipped. Instead by the dozen they were placed onto funeral pyres and set a light to be consumed by the flames. An overworked Priest of Minerva who Carus Florianus Julianus had brought along with him from Rome so many years before now tirelessly performed rights of passage for the many dead.

"What are the men saying Sentius?" Florianus asked Sentius Tutor, the Praefectus Castrorum of his legion, as he observed a group of Persians finish setting up a pyre, they then moved aside so that the dead men’s legionary comrades could set the pyre on fire.

"Nothing new, Legate Julianus." Sentius said. The older man had seen it a dozen times before here in the east and had gone through the same post battle conversations and cleanups; twice now with Florianus. "The legions new name is sticking, reminds them of home."

Florianus nodded, giving out a slight tired smile. "Good, good, Sentius." He said. "Continue cremating our dead. When you are finished with our boys have the prisoners gather up all their dead comrades in our area of the field and we'll mass cremate them."

"Humph! It's a damn shame we’re staying here to wait for the supplies or I'd leave the Persians dead out here to rot." He stated as he pulled his white cloak over him and headed off in the opposite direction to instruction the men on their next task.

----------
That evening
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“Can he hear me?” Calidus Raeus Vitellius gazed down at the form of Basileus Alexandros Kallinicus. Despite the growing chill in the air, the Seleukid monarch was bathed in sweat, tossing and turning under the sheets of his bed. His brow was creased in frustration, and he would moan and cry out at times, sometimes barking and shouting orders, fighting a last, invisible battle in his mind.

“I do not know,” the middle aged physician spoke bluntly. “He travels with the Gods, but his body is not dead yet. He is in limbo between places, but since we can hear him, perhaps this is the time he can hear us?”

Raeus scowled at the mans uncertainty, and waved him back. He stood looking down on his old friend, but there was no recognition. He sought for some words of comfort that could get through to him, but there was nothing. The Roman commander sighed – he was physically and mentally exhausted now, and the loss of Alexandros had hit him hard. He found some words. “You fought well, Alexandros, and we have a great victory. Your homelands may yet be kept safe.” He sighed, and looked down on the Greek king. There was no response.

Eventually, Raeus turned and looked away. “Make sure word is sent to Maximiana at once,” he ordered of a Seleukid aide, who nodded once. The Roman commander gathered himself and left the pomerium.

The field was a myriad of flames, twinkling into the cold night air. Raeus Vitellius drew his bearskin cloak tighter around his shoulders as he gazed out across the army – it had grown into a chill evening, his breath actually frosting in the air. Tomorrow morning Prefect Terpus and the VI Cohort would leave, taking passage back east to Rome. Their numbers would yet dwindle further, there were so many dead men here and more yet to pass on to Hades. Including the Seleukid king, who would leave a huge, gaping chasm in the structure of affairs in the east.

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Three days later,
Antiokheia
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Legate Rufus Sabaco stood in his office reviewing paperwork with his aide. For the past weeks he had been trying to gather as much supplies as possible, to take south when the road that separated his battered forces from the main army of the East. Until now, a significant amount of supplies had been gathered but not what Rufus had hoped for.

With a pensive look on his face he read the latest report, when someone knocked at the door. The soldier that kept guard outside the office entered.

“Sir, there is messenger here to see you.”

“Let him in.”

Immediately, an aide covered in dust, with a tired look on his face stepped in, saluted and delivered a roll of parchment. Rufus recognized the seal in it, that of Calidus Raeus Vitellius, and opened it immediately. As his eyes scanned through the message, a small smirk appeared on his face.

“Soldier, get this man somewhere to rest and something to eat.” He then turned to the messenger. “I will soon give an answer to take back. Now go rest.” Both men saluted, and left the room.

Rufus then turned to his aide. “Get me my first Tribune. And ask Legate Grunicus and the perfects to report to me at once.”

“Yes, sir. Good news?” The aide was clearly curious about the message.

“Yes Claudius, we are going to have our revenge soon enough.”

A few minutes later the first Tribune of Legio III Virtutis entered the room, and saluted his superior. “My dear Lucius, I have received word from Proconsular Legate Vitellius. We are to march south to meet him has soon has possible.”

A smile appeared on the young tribune’s face. “That means he has defeated Shapur.”

“Correct! I know the path towards the army of the East is open. So we must go as soon as possible to them with the supplies we have gathered. Soon enough we’ll have a chance to clean our name with some Persian blood and avenge our late Emperor.”

The Tribune nodded in agreement. Ever since that fateful battle, the men of Legion III Virtutis wished restore they honour. To Rufus, the idea of avenging his former mentor Pompeius Septimus Varro had been obsessing him, ever since seeing the former Emperor slowly dieing from his injury.

“Are the carts for transporting the supplies ready?”

“No, sir. Only about half are done. We will need at least one more day to finish.”

“That will not do. Get whatever you can from the city, and to rush the construction of more. We depart tomorrow. Whatever we cannot take will stay here.”

“I’ll get down to that right now sir.”

“Good! You are excused Tribune.”

The Tribune saluted and left to take care of his orders, leaving Fuvanius Rufus Sabaco immersed in his thoughts.

Rufus spent the rest of the day in meeting with the officers of the other units, and overseeing the work of his soldiers. He could see their morale was waning, the bitter taste of defeat still lingering. Yet the chance of revenge was apparent, and many a man looked forward to it.

When sun appeared in the horizon, the men already were going around making everything ready for the departure.

When time for departure was near, all units lined up in the courtyard, and Rufus addressed to them.

“My fellow companions! Again we stand ready to do our job from Rome. Our brothers are south of here preparing to face the Persian horde. This is a chance is our chance to clean the name of our Legions, and to avenge our fallen companions. Those Persian animals think they are better than us! They clearly need a lesson! And, by Iupiter, we will help them learn it!” The men sounded their approval, by banging on their shields. “So my brothers, let us go and get our revenge! Remember your beloved Emperor Septimus Varro will be watching us from beyond. Make him proud of you men!” The soldiers started chanting Septimus’ name. Pleased with what he saw, Rufus left the improvised podium, and went to take care of the final items before departure. Half an hour later the column got moving southwards. In front, Rufus could think of only one thing – revenge.

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Apemeia,
Six Days Later
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The long line of mules from Antiokhieia ad Orontem had arrived. Much of the supplies were originally destined for the army of Septimus Varro and therefore the food, equipment and clothing was all of Roman design which meant the men would put it all too good use immediately.

Legate Carus Florianus Julianus who had just finished writing a letter to Senator Raeus Sarius Agrippa, the Rex Sacrorum for funds to build a temple to celebrate their victory at Apemeia, when he heard the mules and wagons passing by his tent. He rushed out to see the cheerful looks on the men's faces as the excited Optio's climbed onto the
wagons and quite remarkably began to pass out supplies to the Decanus'; leaders of the contubernum's in an orderly fashion.

He noticed the thin Maximus Appus; chief of staff of Proconsular Legate Calidus Raeus Vitellius, supervising the distribution of supplies. "Maximus! The boss came
through!" Florianus shouted at him in good humour. "Tell Raeus that I've never seen legionaries so happy to receive their ration of bucellatum! You'd almost think there was wine hidden in those damn biscuits!"

Raeus sat alone in his pomerium, sitting silently behind his desk. His mood was sombre, but it was a strange feeling. He held in his hand a hastily scribbled dispatch that had arrived from a Praetorian runner that morning. It was a last dispatch from Vallentinus, written in hasty shorthand from his prison cell. So many memories and thoughts swam over him. Vallentinus was dead – his old friend from the last army of Rufus Pompeius Varro, and later enemy, now walked the fields of Elysium.

----------
Carthage, Africa,
Aprillis 108 AD
----------

Maxentius Volusius swatted idly at a fly that buzzed around his face and sighed. The summer would be unbearably hot, and the fighting and marching that were to come against the forces of Justius Julianus. The concerns of the coming war weighed on the young Tribune, but for now, he was content.

He sat with his back against his pack amongst the legionary camp, watching the drill square, and the drills that were taking place within. His friend, Tribune Iovinianus Vallentinus, stripped to the waist, was drilling with other young officers of the army. He smiled wanly as he watched his friend go through the motions with another group of officers.

Maxentius knew better than to step into the drill square against him – he’d seen his friend in action too many times. Valletinus’ skill with the sword was formidable, but he fought with a terrifying ferocity, even on the practice grounds that made him a tough prospect to deal with.

Vallentinus cried with triumph as he disarmed his next opponent with a savage sword thrust, cutting across his opponents arm and drawing blood. The other young officer and one of his comrades retreated, muttering under their breath and shaking their heads as the younger Tribune strutted in victory. Maxentius smiled again, and drained some more water from a skin at his waist. He nodded a greeting as he caught sight of the legate Atillus Sulla across the square from the two, in conversation with a young, dark haired officer. No other volunteers immediately stepped forward against Vallentinus.

“Who is next?” Vallentinus called proudly out to the gathered onlookers, his arms spread wide in challenge. There was silence, and Vallentinus smiled, wiping his damp hair on his tunic before turning to Maxentius. But behind him, a noise stirred, as men began to murmur behind them. Tribune Volusius cast his eyes over Vallentinus’ shoulder, and saw the young officer next to Atillus Sulla had stepped forward.

Vallentinus turned and saw the challenger. Smiling ferally, he strode back to the centre accepting the challenge. “Very well,” he called. Already around the square money had begun to change hands as officers and men began to try to place wagers on the outcome. It was difficult, since all too few people were prepared to stake money on the newcomer, who now weighed several gladius’ in his hands, before hefting a shield himself and heading out to the middle. “Your name, soldier?” Vallentinus called.

The young soldier replied in an even tone. “Calidus Raeus Vitellius, XV Gemina Fulminata.”

“Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus, IX Pompeia Hispania.” He brought his sword across in a salute, which Raeus swiftly returned. Then the two engaged, Vallentinus throwing himself aggressively forward against the black haired soldier.

As soon as they engaged, a hush went around the crowd. Volusius could see that this sparring would be different, and he could see Vallentinus knew it too. The taller Vallentinus was clearly the stronger of the two, and more aggressive, but the newcomer was very skilled, and the faster, and so the two were well matched. Immediately the wagering around the ring doubled in intensity.

The two continued in the dance of battle for some time – shields caught swords, thrust was countered by parry, and quickly the intensity began to increase, until the fighting was almost for real.

Maxentius noted their techniques were unusual – both used their shields and swords in equal measures as both offensive and defensive measures. Shields were used to batter their opponents shields away, but then the deadly thrust was held by the sword.

The taller Vallentinus drove forwards with his sword, which Raeus deflected with a flick from his shield, but his own counter thrust was repelled as well. The two broke for a second, and then Raeus drove forwards again at Vallentinus’ right side; a telegraphed blow, that Vallentinus adjusted and caught on his own blade. But then the dark haired Vitellii smashed his shield into his opponents’ blade, forcing it out wide, crafting an opening. Vallentinus brought his shield across his body instinctively, but Raeus reacted quickly again, and surprised the crowd in a movement of quick feet. He stepped in towards his opponent, and using the opening, rolled his back along Vallentinus’ shield, lashing his sword arm around in a deadly arc towards the younger Tribunes exposed side. Vallentinus reacted quickly, driving his weight against his shield, and pushing the Vitellii back, whilst dodging backwards so that the blade only clove thin air.

Snarling wildly at the challenge, Vallentinus stepped back in, hammering two quick blows against Raeus’ shield. The second blow brought the young Vitellii’s shield down low, and Vallentinus drove forwards, using his own bodyweight as a weapon. He slammed into Raeus and the two fell to the ground, arms locked around each other.

“Enough!” the voice of Atillus Sulla rang out. He stepped forwards. “You do not need to kill each other to prove who is superior. There need be no victor today.” A murmur of discontent arose amongst the men gathered around, but a quick look from the veteran legate stilled them.

Maxentius strode to the middle and proffered his hand to help Vallentinus rise to his feet. The wildness of battle was still on him, but the young Tribune dusted himself down, and approached the Vitellian Tribune, who also rose to his feet. Maxentius stayed a short distance behind, in case trouble flared once more.

“You fought well.” Vallentinus spoke grudgingly, but without anger.

“And you,” Raeus responded. “I was not aware there were such fighting men in this army. I have met few who could match me.”

The compliment stroked the young Tribunes ego, and he smiled. “Likewise. It is good to know we have such men in battle.” He offered his hand in a warriors handshake.

Raeus took his arm and smiled slightly. “As the legate says, there need be no winner today.”

“But we can find out another day,” Vallentinus smiled warmly as the two men shook hands. It was the beginning of a long friendship.

----------
Apemeia, Syria
Present Day
----------

Raeus folded the dispatch in his hands and smiled at the old reverie. Times had seemed so much simpler then. Since those heady days, himself and Vallentinus had fallen to become enemies; sworn foes, intent on each others destruction. The Magister had spoken of civil war at the prospect of Raeus ever taking the throne. Now the last of the triumvirate that had taken his honour and forced him low was dead; Sillius Flavus had taken his own life in captivity, Septimus Varro was dead in battle, and now Vallentinus was gone. Raeus felt a warm re-assurance that he was now free of it all.

But there was sadness. He mourned the friend he had lost, though in truth he had lost him many years before. He mourned the loss of yet another comrade from the old days – there were so few left these days. He murmured a prayer and lifted his eyes to the heavens. “I think I hear them sounding the great recall up there,” he spoke quietly, to himself.

His thoughts were disturbed by an entrance to his tent behind him. In the opening stood Maximus Appus, and besides him, a woman he recognised well enough. The Basilissa of Seleukia, and his distant cousin, Faestia Maximiana Vitellius, walked over towards him. She had clearly been weeping, and was deeply upset, but she carried herself upright towards him. Raeus spoke first in greeting. “Maximiana, it is good to see you again. I am… I am so very sorry.”

She smiled sadly at his words. “My thanks, Raeus. How is he?” Her tone was blunt and starched.

“He lives, but he is between our world and the gods. The physicians do not expect he will live.”

Maximiana nodded slowly, it was as she expected. She sank slowly into a seat without asking, but Raeus ignored the informality. “How did it happen?” She felt numb, and nausea threatened to overcome her.

Raeus poured a cup of water and handed it across to her. “A sword thrust to his side. His men were able to get to him quickly enough and get him back here.” He paused. “Alexandros fought bravely, Maximiana. He could do no more.”

“It is all he ever seems to have to do – to fight and kill and defend ourselves from those animals!” She spat, and the emotions at last overcame her, and tears broke and started streaming down her face. “Why are these days destined to be ours when all he laboured for comes to naught!?”

Raeus had no words for the distraught Queen. He stood behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, but felt so inadequate. There was nothing he could do for her – no words that would bring her husband back, or give her the happy life of peace that she so craved. ‘I cannot even achieve that for myself,’ he thought. And all the while, her words echoed in his head. ‘It is all we ever seem to do, to fight and kill and defend ourselves.’ It was all he knew.

----------
One week later
----------

Florianus was awoken by the tapping of the recently promoted Tribune, Lucius Quintius Scarbos’ hand against the entrance to his leather tent. "Excuse me, Sir," the Tribune said nervously, uneasy at being the one chosen to disturb the Legate even if he was usually in good humor.

Looking up at Quintius he smirked. "Tribune Scarbo what is it now?" He asked as he looked back down besides him at the woman who shared his cot. Usually he stayed away from women on campaign, but the Syrian woman had been brought up with the supply train from Antiokhieia ad Orontem and was a gift for the night from his Seleukid friend; Zosmios Nikomachos.

"We are heading out south, Raeus' orders. Praefectus Castrorum Tutor is already ordered the men to pull down our section of the camp." He reminded the Legate. "We need to pull down your tent as well."

Florianus nodded. "Alright, I'll be out in a minute." He said waving Quintius off. He looked back at woman. "Well, duty calls," he said as he hopped out of the cot and made for his uniform laid out on a collapsible wooden table. "Send Captain Nikomachos my regards; I shall see him at Iustianopolis."

Florianus stepped out of his tent and mounted the Arabian stallion brought over to him by an Eques Stablesianus. Once mounted he looked over at Tribune Flavius Granius Cumanus and Aristocles Pamphilos, Praefecous Equitum of the Equites Floriana who were already up on their horses and waiting for him. Florianus smiled at the pair, "Well now gentlemen we've made it this far, what's one more battle, aye?" He asked rhetorically as he kicked the side of his horse and raced off down the long line of infantry who were already heading in the direction of Iustianopolis. The Army of the South marched once more, towards battle against the grand royal army of Sanatruces. There would be no peace yet; no rest for the warriors of the east.

-----------------------------
Written by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Augustus Tiberius Varro, Carus Florianus Julianus, Fuvianus Rufus Sabaco and Maccius Cicero Disius.

Edited by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Sol Invictus.
Fri, 23 May 2008 14:05:02 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11281 === Syria, North of Apemeia, Januarius 132 AD ===

Proconsular Legate Raeus Vitellius pressed through the curtain flap into the pomerium of Praetorian Prefect Daratius Antonius Terpus. It was a little after dawn in the encampment of the army of the east, and wan light shone through into the tent, providing enough light for both men to see. Surprised by the visit, Antonius looked questioningly at the older general. It was Raeus who spoke first. "Praefectus, I needed to speak with you on a matter of some urgency."

Antonius, resting, began to get up, holding his side from a wound sustained in the last battle. "Proconsular," Antonius replied standing to his feet.

"I hope your wound is healing well, Antonius," Raeus said, though his tone was a little starched, heavy in its meaning. "It is regarding your coming departure - I wish for the Praetorians and the Equites to stay here in the east. Given our casualties, these men will be essential if we are to win this war."

"Raeus, I don't disagree with you.. the Praetorians, the Equites and every man in the empire would be essential and useful in this war. However the Empires borders go unguarded, and due to the stupidity and negligence of Imperator Varro we were so unprepared." He paused. "I have received word, rumor that Vallentinus had been detained, arrested in Rome. You know as well as I do Raeus… if Vallentinus is being arrested trouble is soon to follow."

"I do not argue with you, Antonius." Raeus sighed. "But we can only do one thing well - and I think our focus should be the defense of our lands against a foreign threat at this time. We risk losing this war if we spread ourselves thin again - just as Imperator Varro did."

Antonius turned looking to the floor shaking his head. "Raeus it is a gamble… and I will be completely honest, the People of Italia are more important to me then the people of Phoenicia or Syria."

"What of the rest of these men then?" Raeus kept his tone level, but there was now an edge in his voice. "They are all risked with every man that leaves this place."

"What of the People of Rome, Raeus?" Antonius responded quickly. "I have no idea what’s going on in the west, but Imperator Daia left quickly without much explanation. I feel something is wrong. We both know the nature of Iovianus and his brutality."

Raeus shook his head. "I know the nature of Sanatruces too. Iovinianus is at least a Roman if nothing else. We face the largest army Rome has ever seen put in the field besieging our own legions south of here. We cannot abandon them on the grounds of a gamble."

"Raeus, I have no words in which to reply to that statement. Left speechless, I am afraid we suffer an awful fate. I did the best of my ability to provide you with the assistance and manpower I have thus far, against the wishes of Imperator Varro I defied his orders to answer your call for aid and convince Imperator Daia to allow the forces currently in the east. My presence here was to ensure I could assist in providing you with a stronger force.. I did that; the Praetorian Guard, and Equite Singulares assisted you in defeating Shapurs army.” He shook his head. "Their duty is in Rome Raeus. Fidelis, and both Imperial legions will remain in the east, as will my personal Auxilia unit of horsemen"

Raeus looked at the ground, not proud of what he now had to do. He sighed and looked down. It was time to end a friendship. He then looked up and held the Praetorian Prefect's gaze. "I am sorry, Antonius - I appreciate all you have done for this campaign - your wounds stand as testimony to your commitment to Rome and her people. But the Praetorians and the Equites must stay in the East. I have requested of the men and the officers that they stay to see this war out, and they have accepted."

Antonius, now visibly upset, threw over his table as he got into Raeus' face. "Damn you Raeus! For the last three years I have commanded the Praetorian Guard, and never have you commanded the Equites! The Praetorians are not your men anymore! Your supply lines run thin and you run into an army much larger then your own. It is a matter of time before you are either run down or supply stops all together! I will not allow this, either you allow their departure or I deal with the situation in another manner. You are a good man Raeus but I will not stand for this."

Raeus maintained his calm demeanor, holding his gaze level. "I am sorry it comes to this, Antonius, but I cannot release them. This is a war Rome cannot lose, for the Persians menace will not abate, and if we lose here, we will be all the weaker to fight it again. We win here, or in the next war, we fight the Persians for Roman land."

Antonius shook his head. "The Praetorians and Equites leave in the morning; that is final" Antonius finished motioning for Raeus to leave his tent.

The older general did not move. "They are staying Antonius. The men will not leave."

"The men will leave. The Guard has changed Raeus, you do not have the same Tribunes you once did, and have been absent from them for three years now" Antonius turned to a guard, signaling for him to escort the Proconsular from his tent.

Raeus held a hand up to stall the guard advancing behind him. "Antonius, you misunderstand me. I have spoken with the Guard, they wish to remain. The officers and the men are united."

"Raeus, I will not ask you again.. Leave my tent!"

Raeus nodded sadly. "As I said, Antonius, I am sorry. But I could not lose the war for this." He turned on his heels and left the pomerium. Antonius called for an aide and prepared to find the truth of the matter.

=== Early Februarius, north-eastern Gallia Aquitania ===

Tetricus galloped hard ahead of his brother and the mounted guard behind them. He was on his way to the Consular legion I Minerva to attempt to sway their position. Brittanicus kept pace with him, and soon enough they were out of sight from their dozen other riders.

“Tetricus!” Brittanicus shouted, pulling his horse right alongside Tetricus. “Slow down! Tetricus!”

Tetricus pulled on the reigns and stopped his horse as fast as he could without sliding it, and then without a flinch or blink, whipped his head to the right and looked at his little brother. “What.”

“We’ve lost the men.” Britannicus huffed, waving behind him. “You’ve been in such a fury I can only imagine you’ve got harpies on your back.”

“I hurry because there isn’t time.”

Britannicus rolled his eyes. “Time, time, time. Tetricus, i’ve been here for years while you’ve been elsewhere. I’ve dealt with every successive Proconsul and Propraetor that has swung his dick in Lugdunum- I know about time. This isn’t about time–“

“Oh, then what is it about, Britannnnnnnnnicus?” Tetricus was upset- and rightly so. He had traveled to Gaul without the necessary Senatus-Consulta to grant him Proconsular status early, and now was technically at the whim of Propraetor Telvitius Claviticus- his lesser. He pulled his horse around to stand facing his brother.

“Telvitius, Daia, Lucius Verus. You’re frustrated about it all, that you screwed yourself over–“

“I did no such thing! None of them understand, Jupiter and Mars as my witnesses, I did what was necessary.” Tetricus thrust the symbol of the bull made my his right fist toward his brother, his eyes glaring. “Iovinianus was far worse than Agrippa Marius Vitellius, Romulus Fortunus Julianus and I’ll dare say it- the Snake Vitellius Vibius Varro!”

Britannicus’s eyes widened and he could see his brother was changed. In that instant he saw that Tetricus was out for blood. He turned back the way they came just in time to see their guard cantering across a rise in the road. He turned forward, letting his sight just graze his brother, and said, “We’d better get moving. I Minerva is still a day away.”

Tetricus and Britannicus didn’t speak for the rest of the night. They camped where scouts told them they would be just a morning’s ride away from I Minerva’s camp. After a silent supper of cooked grain and fowl, washed away with some warm wine, Tetricus excused himself and retired early to his small tent. As he lay there awake, staring up through the minuscule holes in the tent fabric at the stars above, he recounted the conversation with Telvitius Clavitivus the morning he left to retrieve the legion:

“You can’t order things to be done, Tetricus.” Telvitius stated. He leaned forward with this fingertips supporting him on the shiny surface of his desk. Tetricus had come that morning to inform his friend of his plans, but was met with a cruel truth. “You can’t just ‘take’ your Proconsulship- Daia tricked you.”

“That’s bullshit, Telvitius.” Tetricus looked off to the side and in microseconds calculated that there was nothing his friend could gain from lying to him, but everything for Daia to get him out of Rome AND lose his imperium. He looked at Telvitius, with a frown. “I am the Proconsul- I put you here–“

“You also removed my son from his post right after you made your promises to me, remember?” Telvitius shot back, finally venting an issue that had plagued him since taking his place as Propraetor. “And then you come here unable to fulfill the rest of our deal. If I were any other man I would deny you everything!”

Tetricus smirked, understanding. “But you aren’t- you’re family, and you understand me.”

“You’re an ass sometimes, and it’s a surprise that you’ve been as successful in Rome as you are here. I am most surprised that you didn’t catch on to Daia’s plan- so naive.” Telvitius pushed himself upright from the desk and paced behind it, fingers tapping each other before him. It was a few moments before he spoke again. “I am Propraetor here- I have the authority to do all you want to do. You want to secure I Minerva? Do it. If I were a military man, I would recognize however that just because its Legate is a cousin of Emperor Daia and its men might have an affinity to you and your father’s name, it’s chance of having an impact if it agrees to follow you is slim. Slim to none.”

Tetricus nodded. “I realize this, but here’s the thing: Decius Lucius Verus and his legions, and all the Romans under him are traitors to the empire now. How can we stand aside and let all that is honorable and Roman be trampled on yet again? Even if I run this legion into the ground, I will do so in defense of all that is right- and against the most heinous of enemies, the Roman traitor.”

Telvitius sighed, and stopped pacing. He clasped his hands together against his stomach and looked at Tetricus solemnly. His eyes looked tired, with the light purple of sleepless nights were pulling them down. “Then go, do what you need to do. Do it on behalf of me and my office of Propraetor. If you die, at least you’ll die for the right reasons.”

It was two days after that when Tetricus fought with his brother on their way to the legions. The night they camped just a mornings ride away, Tetricus and Britannicus didn’t speak, but that next morning they were just as before; close and supportive. Britannicus burst into his tent just as the first rays of light peaked over the snow capped mountains to the north of them. Tetricus looked up to his brother with matted hair in his face and wrinkles pressed into his skin from the crude pillow he used to sleep with.

“What do you want Britannicus? Until the sun is actually on the horizon the day hasn’t begun...” He flopped his head back down and rolled onto his back, awake.

Britannicus laughed, and stopped quickly. “I’ve sent a messenger to Legate Brutus Manus Daia, informing him we would be to see him within a few hours.”

Tetricus propped himself up on his elbows and looked Britannicus dead on, then smiled. “The I suppose just this once I will rise before the sun and forgive you.”

Britannicus led the gallop to the camp of the Consular legion I Minerva, running just a horses length ahead of his brother. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon when they spotted the camp; Winter days always started later than their summer opposites. Britannicus liked the shorter days more, while Tetricus despised them. Nobody came to greet them as they approached, and the gates were still closed. Their messenger was no where to be seen, and that left them with just eleven horsemen.

Tetricus stopped just ahead of Britannicus and looked to his left at his brother. “I’ll ride up and demand entrance.”

“Do it then, hurry on!” Britannicus was half joking. “Go be the big bad Proconsul you wish you were.”

Tetricus scowled at him and then kicked his horse into a run toward the gate. Thirty seconds later he stood before it, a sentry looking down from above. He shouted down to Tetricus, “What do you want?!”

“On the behalf of Propraetor Claviticus, I demand entry to this camp!” Tetricus sat as high as he could on the horse and yelled as deeply as he was able. “I am Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius of the Sarian Vitelli!”

The sentry disappeared for a few moments and then came back accompanied by a second sentry. “Leave your horsemen outside!”

The gates to the camp opened as soon as the sentry’s utterance was finished, and just as demanded, Tetricus moved forward, though followed by Britannicus. At the gate the guards ordered Britannicus to remain behind, but through some harsh words from Tetricus and a quick explanation- and the relinquishing of arms from them to the both of the guards who opened the gate- Britannicus was allowed to enter at Tetricus’s side.

As they were led through camp toward the Legate’s command tent- which was more of a solid structure since the legion hadn’t been moved in a few years, they were surprised to see much of the legionaries lined up along the avenue, watching intently. Tetricus, from high on his horse, took in their curious and wondrous faces as a sign of support- could they recognize him, or his name? ‘They should’, he thought. Britannicus smiled at the soldiers, sure to himself that it would be only a matter of minutes before they were kicked from camp by a foot of the mightiest soldier. Tetricus on the other hand, began nodding to the watching men.

There was no wait once they reached the Legate’s building. The wooden doors were swung open in time with Tetricus’s steps; They hitched their horses to a log bench a few yards back. A slow eruption of warm air greeted them as they entered and the doors closed behind them. The room was heated by a large open fire pit, which billowed up through an odd chimney hole in the ceiling. It was a luxury a legion regularly used wouldn’t have afforded it’s Legate, so Tetricus could tell they had been here a while. On the opposite side of the fireplace stood Legate Brutus Manus Daia, wary in his pose but welcoming with his eyes.

As Tetricus and Britannicus split to circumvent the fireplace, Manus greeted them. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Brittanicus looked to Tetricus, who tilted his head forward slightly out of respect and said, “Frankly Legate, I am here for your legion.”

Manus, without expression turned to Britannicus and asked, “And you, whoever you are, can you tell me where Tetricus here claims the authority to make such a move? I have heard no news of Propraetor Claviticus resigning, or dying- and as far as I know the current term in Rome hasn’t expired.”

Tetricus smirked. Britannicus, wide eyed and beginning to enjoy the meeting, answered: “He has authority through Propraetor Claviticus, who has authorized all acts by Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius to combat the scourge marching for Rome.”

“Hahaha!” Manus laughed. He turned around and walked over to a chair and flopped down, waving to a pair of chairs in front of him. Both Tetricus and Britannicus refused to sit, and Manus continued. “Good luck with that, Senator. The armies of Decius Lucius Verus have been past here quite near a week. If the legion would have answered to my command, I would have routed to do something, anything, to stop them. Unfortunately their souls were purchased by the alpha wolf some time back.”

Tetricus was angry. “I figured as much! That bastard and his deep pockets. It all probably came from the plundering of citizens in Belgica. I wouldn’t put it past him. Legate, I can wrest control from that tyrants coin if you allow me the chance. Wouldn’t you like to aid your cousin, Emperor Daia?”

“Would I? Of course! We are but one legion against seven and–“

“No, Legate. I have word from Proconsular Legate Aelianus Julius Vitellius that he has amassed a force nearly equal to that of Verus, and is enroute to Gallia Cisalpina from Histria.” Tetricus smiled now; he had information that the legion didn’t, and he hoped to use it to sway them. The Legate looked confused, but Tetricus continued. “They came from the coast, right? Obviously then their baggage train is between us and them-“

“Legate, if your legion wont answer to you as it is, then where is the harm in letting Tetricus pull some attempt?” Britannicus stepped up and cut his brother off.

Legate Daia rapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and then nodded, “Fine, good even! Try it, Tetricus. If you can use your political wrangling of words to secure their loyalty- or hell, even get them to move, I’ll follow your lead.”

Tetricus nodded with an eager smile. He made no attempt to act regal or better than the Legate- he had a mission that he felt was more important than appearances. After a another minute of discussion about possible tactics and an update on news of the Vallite Wolves, Tetricus and Britannicus were out amongst the legion standing in the middle of the camp forum- and legion was quick to assemble around them. Not one of them recognized either of the two men, and that made Tetricus a bit nervous. After a moment of watching the legionaries and taking regular deep breaths, he said:

"Legionaries of the first Minerva! The goddess Minerva of wisdom and warriors!
What honored men you are to bare the name of such a goddess of the triad!" He found his pace, and began to walk his horse- a glistening black mare- down the line of assembled soldiers. "You know I am married to the sister of the Pontifex of Minerva!”

"I am in personal contact with your Pontifex!" He said; A lie, yes, but nonetheless necessary. He held up a forged letter pulled from his waist. "He says here that as leader of the cult of Minerva he hopes that her personal legion stays true to the sacred virgin goddess of wisdom and remains loyal to Rome! Which I have no doubt you will!"

What started out as low murmurs of agreement and interest quickly grew to rhythmic chants of approval. Tetricus smiled, soaked in it for a moment, and continued. "I've come here today not as your Proconsul, but as a man of Gaul! For I am a man of Gaul and I have gone out to these esteemed provinces and toured them and met your people, I have
sat in your shops, eaten with your families! Therefore I am as good a man to judge the character of your people and!, You are by far the finest and most loyal citizens of Rome, you citizens from Italia and Gaul!"

He threw his hands up, and lowered his arms out as if embracing the legionaries from atop his mount. Watching the unexpected reaction of quick support from the soldiers drew in that same feeling he had whenever he stood in the Palatine Forum orating to the masses. He noticed the soldiers seemed restless at the same time though, obviously wondering why he was here. It was clear they were excited mostly for the praise being lavished upon them by an esteemed Senator, and for hearing about Minerva.

Tetricus decided to forget spewing more fancy rhetoric about loyalty and the goddess, and simply cut to the chase. He pulled his arms down and puffed out his chest. "You know who I am: I am Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius! Son of Sarius Lepidus Vitellius and here for the Propraetor of Rome Telvitius Claviticus! Elected by the senate to defend you all from barbarians such as Decius Lucius Verus the Wolf's Pup!"

There was a cheer from the men, which heightened Tetricus' spirits. "As your legitimate commander and heir of the great Sarius Lepidus Vitellius, I feel my personal responsibility to you men! I will award each of you men a bounty of forty sesterces today as you follow me out of this camp! As for what money Iovinianus Vallenintus bribed you loyal soldiers with- I say keep that money too! Be free to spend it on drink and women if you have any left!"

Some of the soldiers in the front looked confused, and bit put off from the ‘bribe’ comment, but most of the legion within earshot continued to hoot or stand quiet, smiling. Tetricus took a slow, deep breath and stood proud atop his horse at the center of the legion. He used one hand for enunciation: "The Sarian Estate pledges that on your retirement you will all be taken care of! Like Lepidus before me, I will find you homes, good farming land and jobs for your sons! And for you if you wish to work after such glorious careers in this legion! Are you with me?!”

There was a quick silence that brought Tetricus to the brink of worry; Did his speech backfire? Then just as quickly the legion thrust a baritone wave of support to him. Tetricus wheeled his horse around to face the other way while watching the legion. He smiled bigger than he thought possible, and then raised his hand again, continuing.

"Finally, finally I say any man who dies, cause some of you may indeed die, you're families will be provided land and security on my lands in Gaul and for any Italian on my lands in Sicilia! I swear I will look after you all!" He paused and let that sink in, knowing from his time in the legions before how often this was a worry. "Now all of you men! Let us defend the empire from these rebels and rogues of Vallentinus who march through Gaul stealing from our farms and raping and pillaging our towns! Who would dare march on the great city of Rome, terrorizing Gaul on the way?! Let us break camp and march on Massilia to stab these wolves in the back and defeat with Wolf’s pup!"

A mighty chorus broke out across the legion as the soldiers cheered, some prompted by their centurions, but most truly taken by the cause. It was true they had been bribed by Iovinianus Vallentinus in the past, but times had changed- and they had been passed by their northern brethren as the army marched on Rome. They adored Tetricus, at least on the surface for his promises and penetrating speech. Their Legate looked on from the side, visibly excited and surprised that such a rabble-rouser, this upstart adopted-son of Sarius Lepidus Vitellius, could without warning come to his camp and successfully gain control of his legion.


Written By: Ferus Juventas and Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius, with RP by Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Daratius Antonius Terpus, and finally with special help from Carus Florianus Julianus

Edited By: Ferus Juventas
132 AD
Tue, 20 May 2008 15:45:32 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11275 The home of Princeps Delegatus Rimilius Ispius was quiet. Everything was clean, and everything was still. The sun shone orange with it’s afternoon light as it flooded through the windows of every western facing room. Emperor Actius Decius Daia had requested an audience with his chief advisor of the Consilium Principis, but instead of the usual trip to the Imperial Palace, he honored the aged Consular by coming to his home instead.

They sat inside a small anteroom and looked at each other through the strange haze of the winter afternoon sunlight. The dust that clung in the air was a another reminder to Decius that the peace of settling dust was possible gallons of blood away. After formalities and small talk, he came right to the point:

"Rimilius, it seems that much is lost and my efforts to undermine the force and authority of Proconsular Legate Decius Lucius Verus has similarly brought damage to myself as well,” lamented Decius, surprisingly without his proud veneer.

"Indeed, Princeps,” Rimilius answered, “it seems that there have been no 'winners' in recent weeks."

"My concern is that Verus does not march to sack Rome, for I am sure he knows he will gain nothing.” Decius said. “Rather I believe he marches to avenge the death of Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus in order to win favor with his legions and the northern provinces."

Rimilius nodded. "Yes, Princeps, I agree with you on this point. He wants to secure his own power base.... although I would not deny that he might harbor some sincere anger."

"If this is the case, my presence in the area will do the opposite of what I desire. It will bring further devastation and worry to Rome rather than inspire the people to stay strong." Decius paused, looking again at dust floating along the rays of dimming sunlight. "With that in mind I then thought I would be of more use if I joined the legions to confront the Verian Legions. However, this would likely hinder a peaceful resolution and increase the chance for bloodshed."

"You may be correct on that point, Princeps.” Rimilius affirmed. “Do you believe that you have a greater than one in two chance of defeating the Verians?"

"From the reports I receive the numbers are near equal with th advantage of cavalry going to the rebels. However, the terrain should be at the advantage of our legions. But the factor of skills and integrity also lay factor and in that I believe the Verian forces to be more battle ready.” said Decius, continuing, “However, I believe the plan of Proconsular Legate Julius Vitellius is one which may be able to outweigh the number advantage enjoyed by Lucius Verus.However, I am not general as many have pointed out before. I can only say it looks like it will be determined by the gods and not purely by men."

"I agree. And regardless of the outcome, the losses would greatly weaken our position north of the Alps." Rimilius frowned.

"Our position is already greatly weakened with only three legions protecting our northern boundaries," Decius said, shaking his head, "If I could make Lucius Verus listen to reason by any means I would welcome such an action. However, I fear your words of his anger are a true assessment. You have served under many an emperor as an advisor, what would Persicus or Pompeius now do in this situation?"

"I cannot say.” Rimilius stated. “You see, Divus Tiberius and Divus Pompeius were in stronger positions through most of their reigns. However... it is worth noting the dual Emperorship has been used in the past to at least temporarily resolve crises. Raeus Vitellius was never a friend of Vallentinus, but he has not been linked to the late Magister's downfall. Furthermore, he will... with the blessing of the heavens... return triumphant from the East in the future. Verus cannot sustain a rebellion against Raeus Vitellius."

"I am certain he cannot," Decius agreed. He had wished many times before that the war in the was over so more legions could defend the honor of Rome.

Rimilius continued, "I know that some speak of dual reigns as poor arrangements. But the past two have only collapsed due to unfortunate and untimely deaths."

"That is true. However,” Decius took a breath, swallowing a bit of water. “I can personally attest that despite the most secure alliance, dual emperors cause tension within the empire. Unless the individual offices of emperor were better defined I do not believe dual emperors would assist Rome in the long run. But I suppose in this time of crisis we must look into the short time frame. Plus one can not say when Raeus will be free to return to avert this rebellion."

"However,” Rimilius pressed, “there can be no harm in granting him Imperium Maius Proconsulare for several years... at least enough time to resolve the crisis in the East. I also believe that negotiation with the Northern Legions is worth attempting. Justialus Pius is heading north already for this purpose. Even if he cannot win over Verus, he will make contact with other commanders in the army."

"Unfortunately, many of the senators have already fled Rome and these measures require senatorial debate and vote. I pray Pius is successful and if the Senate feels Raeus influence as Imperator would sway the Northern Legions I will not oppose its decision," Decius then continued with a quizzing look, "what terms will Pius be authorized to give?"

Rimilius answered smoothly, "He is not offering any explicit terms, as far as I am aware. I believe that he will attempt to reason with Verus, and perhaps return to Rome with a message. It will buy time at the very least."

"That is good news,” Decius said. “And what do you recommend with my personal safety? Am I a risk to myself and Rome by remaining within Italia?"

"If the Northern Legions break through, Rome would be safer without you. I believe that you have already... removed most of the Treasury." Rimilius half-asked, knowing the answer. “It would be sensible enough, then, for you to remove yourself as well.... perhaps after their armies cross beyond Cisalpine Gaul."

Decius sighed. He believed it would come to that. "As always, perhaps despite your personal feelings for me or my actions, you have given sound advice. I now understand why you have retained your position and reputation. I thank you Rimilius. Unless you have more advice, I will let you attend to your own needs."

"Actually, I do have one comment.” Rimilius hesitated just barely a moment before continuing, firmly. “Execution of citizens without trial may take place in the case of obvious rebellion and emergency... there is precedent. But stripping of citizenship and related actions against rebels, such as crucifixion, are highly problematic. At any rate, execution and loss of property is quite sufficient, in all practical terms."

"I understand your concern and I agree.” Decius stood up. “However in these extreme cases when masses of Roman citizens march on Rome, certainly you agree we do not wish to include them on an equal status as those who remain loyal."

"No, of course not,” Rimilius said as he slowly reached a standing position as well. His bones creaked. “Execution and removal of property hardly counts as 'equal status.' They are criminals. This is sufficient in terms of status. I cannot see why one would also seek to strip citizenship... which cannot be done by mere edict, at any rate. A criminal citizen has a status that is lower in many ways than a provincial non-criminal. But... a citizen is still a citizen."

"In fact... if they are not citizens, they cannot be seen as traitors in the same sense... especially if you view them as the same as barbarians." He chuckled.

Decius stood firm, but soaked in the advice of his Princeps Delegatus. "However, at the time of their action against Rome, they were citizens and thus traitors. Once their status is denied them they are then enemies of Rome with no home within the empire, no safe haven to return. However, I acknowledge the fact that to simply categorize them as traitors or criminals would also have the same effect without the controversial act of taking citizenship."

"Yes. It would also avoid damaging your position as a traditionalist on the issue of citizenship." Rimilius slowly made his way for the door, followed by the Emperor. “That is all for now, Princeps."

Decius nodded with a sincere smile, and said, “Thank you, Rimilius.”


=== Two days later, A few miles north of Rome, camp of II Gemina ===

Actius Decius Daia, now in his solitude surrounded by Praetorian Guards, was left to his own thoughts. He had taken time to visit the consular legion II Gemina just outside Rome before they moved north. The news continued to flow to him via courier but the constant pestering of advisors, mobs, and harbingers of misinformation were left back in Rome. He was left to nothing but the information. For a moment he allowed his mind to wander as he looked at the simple decorations of his tent. He listened to the chirping of the crickets and the other sounds of the night.

His Praetorians assured him that the scouts had not seen any unusual activity and the reports placed the rebellious force far to the North of his current position, thus he was assured the moment would not have to happen for at least one more day. He reverted his concentration to the papers before him. No unopened messages were in front of him but he once again perused their contents. Soon his Tribunes entered the tent. They bowed as was the custom.

"Sir," began the first Tribune, “The legions of the pup are nearing the encampment of your legions. The men of the Danube still question the intentions of Proconsular Legate Vitellius, though they’ve found nothing out of the ordinary in his actions yet.”

The second tribune then said, "Perhaps it would be wise to place one of Propraetorian Legate Varro's legates over those two legions so as to insure those legions remain loyal to you.”


Decius was not surprised by the soldiers' thoughts for he too was questioning the true loyalty of the former northern Proconsular Legate Vitellius. He knew that he and Aelianus Julius Vitellius had very little contact and that they loyalty of Vitellius was greater to Vallentinus than to himself- Or, since they had little contact, he assumed. However, with Iovinianus Vallentinus dead, the question was how much loyalty remained in the man's heart for his fellow northern soldiers.

For that reason, Decius decided that it was important for him to solidify the operating procedures of the allied legions. He looked to the Praetorian standing to his right. He cocked his head and gave the Tribune an instruction: "Take up the stylus and begin to write."

The Praetorian, taken aback by the Imperator, took up the stylus and began to put ink upon the surface as Decius dictated:

“Loyal servants of the empire, Rome has seen loyal and disloyal legates in it’s past. Amongst those brave and honorable men, the name of Augustus Tiberius Varro is often rung. His actions in the north against the barbarian tribes and his current bravery in the east win him respect and glory for Rome. Therefore, I officially bestow the rank of Proconsular Legate upon Augustus Tiberius Varro. He shall continue to hold imperium over those legions formally commanded by Cassius Julius Verus. Furthermore, Legate Marius Marcus Dio of I Gallicana, in the absence of Tiberius Varro shall command the remaining legions as ProPraetorian Legate. For matters of strategy, Proconsular Legate Vitellius shall maintain command of these forces for the purpose of repelling the forces of the Northern Pup Verus. However, imperium shall flow from me through Varro and then Dio in his stead. All other legions shall be commanded directly by Proconsular Legate Vitellius until removed by higher imperium.”

Decius then took the stylus from the soldier and signed his name. A few other copies were made, the scrolls were sealed and placed in the hands of the Praetorian. Immediately the two soldiers exited as swiftly as they entered to send out the orders.


Decius, satisfied that the command of his legions was clear and balanced, looked over to the map of the empire spread carefully over a solitary table. Upon its detailed markings, the whole of the empire's legions were spread out represented by little wooden soldiers, each one designating the location of known legions. As Decius’s eyes scanned the map, his mind strayed to happier times. Soon vivid images of his sons playing in the imperial palace upon the marble floors grew more detailed. He could hear the laughter and crashing of lead forces. He could see his youngest push whole sets of soldiers across the mock battlefield into his elder brother's well laid out forces. As his memories faded into the present, Decius' eye scanned the whole of the Northern frontier.

Immediately he could see the potential for further problems. From Belgica to Moesia, no legion remained to fend off potential barbarian incursions. Decius knew auxilia alone would not be able to push back a serious incursion of Gothic or Germanian soldiers. He knew his attempt to appease the Goths could backfire and insight further rage and hostilities; however, his willingness to deliver the queen Amalafrida was another step towards creating peace, in his mind. Never the less, Decius once again put stylus and ink to the papyrus and scribbled orders for X Herculia to take a defensive position in the Danube until further notice. Though thin, Decius was satisfied that he had at least taken some precaution.


After some more examining of the peripheral empire, Decius's eyes fell upon The City of the Seven Hills, the ‘Golden City’ of the empire, as he was known to call it. He reached out with his hand to touch the small dot representing Rome, but as he did his hand began to tremble and his eyes to water. His finger push hard into the spot and Decius closed his eyes in thought. His heart grew saddened about the chaos Rome once more had to experience. His mind drifted to that most important day.

'Perhaps I should have done as my predecessors did and once again forgive the infractions of that man. Perhaps we could have averted such dark times,' he thought to himself. However, Decius quickly corrected his mind and reaffirmed his decision. He quickly recalled the words and actions of the first emperor of Rome, Antonius Maxus; Decius recalled how Emperor Maxus corrected the corruption and disintegration of Roman values. He whispered the quote he had read from his histories: “In an honorable world, those without honor are destroyed by those who will not tolerate their existence. They are a curse and a pestilence against their society and their nation. They, like all who will poison, must be destroyed so those who are not of like mind might be allowed to progress unimpeded. You are that pestilence!”

Decius paused reflecting upon the men he had ordered put to the sword. He had no doubt that those men fit the further description of the earliest emperor: "YOU are lower than a dog in the street. Worse than a thief. Lowest of the low. You are traitors," Decius said slightly louder as he thought of Proconsular legate Verus, the Northern Pup.

Decius then pointed his finger out at an imagined Verus, whom he mentally portrayed as a barbarian, "You have betrayed the people and their faith. In your wake a new Senate shall appear. A new era will appear. A new leader will take charge. Until a week ago I was perfectly willing to allow YOU to choose this destiny for Rome. But now...I think your power is at an end. Your penalty is death. All of you."

Soon Decius awoke his mind from this trance and recalled the other actions of that Emperor and the results of those actions. Rome suffered for his siege, Rome suffered for the tyranny he caused, and Rome suffered with continued wars. With these things on his mind, he looked to the statuette of Iuppiter Maius before his bed and made an audible oath, "I shall not repeat the errs of those who held this office before me. Rome shall not fear tyranny from me once this man is finished."


Now exhausted from the previous nights of restlessness and mental exercises of the infinite possibilities before him, Decius walked toward the curtain behind which his cot was positioned. As he prepared himself for the bed, he rubbed at one of the many knots he had received from its uncomfortable nature. However, Decius had refused a more comfortable bed so as to show his men that he was willing to share in their sacrifices for Rome. Assured that the lack of hostile soldiers reports from his regular scouts meant he would not have to move camp for at least several more hours, Decius closed his eyes and fell into sleep.


While the night grew deeper towards its longest hour, Decius experienced the deepest sleep he had known for several months:

Without warning, several men, dressed in a variety of clothes, entered the tent with fierce and fiery eyes. They immediately descended upon Decius beating him with clubs, fists, soldier's sandals, and any other blunt and not so blunt objects. His eyes immediately began to swell as the world around him swirled and faces came in and out of focus.

His hands were bound and he was forced to kneel before a huge figure of a man whom he immediately recognized as Decius Lucius Verus. He thought to himself, had the reports been wrong, had his scouts been intercepted, had he been double crossed by all those men he had come to trust? Decius could not accept the thought. The darkness continued to fade in and out with shadows wandering all around him. Some faces he had thought he recognized; but he could not explain why they were there. One at first appeared to be his brother, another Oricus, still another the face of Iovinianus Vallentinus himself. He closed his eyes tight but the inexplicable images remained. With the same speed with which he was 'escorted' out of his tent the blade of a pugio was pressed carefully but firmly against his neck. He gave one last look around at the crowd and closed his eyes tightly...


Decius awoke from the dream in a pool of sweat. He had not experienced such a vivid dream since he was in Asia where he was told of the ruthlessness of the Persian horde. Certainly the barbarized Romans of the North would stop at nothing less than blood as well. He called out for the guard outside, who stood just outside the only entrance. The soldier immediately entered and assessed the emperor's condition.

Seeing that there were no immediate risks to the emperor's life, he approached and bowed, "Imperator?"

Decius, between labored breaths said, "Send for the Augur."

After some time waiting and then some time discussing the meaning of the dream, Decius sat to put markings upon yet more documents. He wrote his letter and had it immediately copied for announcement and further copying in Rome. His letter read as follows:

"Dearest Citizens,

Rome finds itself in conflict throughout it’s lands: The east battles Persian hordes, the death of Septimus Varro, the north rebels at the thought that Rome would exercise rule over it, the west receives refugees from possible siege on Rome, and in the heart of our empire legions face each other prepared to shed Roman blood.

Such troubles have plagued Rome in the past but never all at once. These times are truly discouraging, however, Rome will not meet these troubled times unprepared. As we speak, the harbinger of hope shines on the actions of our legions. The call of honor and commitment has been answered to protect Rome from hostility. We shall not see the repeat of the actions of men such as Antonius Maxus and Tiberiu Justius Julianus. So long as I am able, Rome will remain free of rebellious forces. To continue to show that I do not plan to leave Rome abandoned should my actions meet with failure, I select Praetorian Prefect Daratius Antonius Terpus as my Imperial heir. Should I fall to the enemies of Rome, Daratius Antonius Terpus has the experience, character, and respect to lead Rome into Her future.


Actius Decius Daia
Imperator"


Immediately upon finishing and dispatching the letters, Decius gave the order to the tribunes and within hours the two cohorts were marching through the still-dark hours of morning toward Ostia. Actius Decius Daia felt the move there was best, to provide security for the bad omens received in his dream. Legion I Gemina would move north to rendezvous with Proconsular Legate Aelianus Julius Vitellius.


Writen By: Actius Decius Daia w/RP from Jupiter Optimus Maximus

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

132 AD Mon, 19 May 2008 02:40:57 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11274 We have seen in very recent months, in Rome, the lives of countless friends and notable Roman Senator’s taken at the hands of mobs and riots. We have seen the residence of the noble men of Rome burned down to the ground, the homes of Consulars, Senators, and Romans lost. Furthermore we have seen the death of countless peoples on the streets of Rome as a result of recent riots.

I have recently been in contact with the Consilium Urbis to discuss action that must be taken to prevent further violence, particularly in these critical times, to cease any further potential of violence within the Eternal City, and to preserve the integrity of the peoples within this city.

The Consilium Urbis and the Urban Prefecture have come to the conclusion, in order to effectively establish a lasting tranquility within Rome; there is a need to limit the possibility of violence and more like riots. The Consilium Urbis and the Urban Prefecture have now determined that the following tentative curfew shall be implemented within Rome:

Firstly, as for now, there shall be no allowance for the organization of any large groups on the streets of Rome.

Secondly, all businesses and operations shall close no later than an hour following the setting of the sun,

Thirdly, following the coming of night, all Romans are ordered to remain of the streets of Rome of all non-emergency circumstances.

The Vigiles as well as the Urban Guard have been authorized to take appropriate action against all those who disobey any parts of this curfew, to preserve the peace of Rome. Anyone failing to follow the guidelines outlined under this curfew will be dealt with appropriately.
Fri, 16 May 2008 23:51:23 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11266 The Dawn of Hope

----------
Before Dawn, The Following Morning,
Near Apemeia
----------


The army of the East began to stir well before dawn. The horizon was turning a lighter shade of blue and the sound of cicadas’ in the night air began to quieten. The army had several miles to march before light, and already, the cavalry prepared to move.

As the cavalry made its preparations to head out, Legate Carus Florianus Julianus approached a Seleukid cavalry officer with a familiar face and smiled widely. "Admiral Zosmios Nikomachos," he said in Koine Greek. The two men had served together in the Romano-Seleukid naval squadron that had conducted anti-pirating operations in the southeastern Mediterranean before the war with Persia.

"Ah my Roman who is not from Rome!" He stated in his hoarse voice looking down at Florianus from up on his horse. "I am surprised you have survived this long!"

"But aren’t you supposed to be at sea? What are you doing on a horse?" Florianus exclaimed as he put his hands on his waist and looked up at the man who he quite admired.

Zosimos laughed. "Unlike you, Trojan, I am a professional soldier; I can command ships at sea, men on foot and cavalry as well." He said with a chuckle hitting Florianus on the shoulder. "What are you in command of?" He asked

"Legio II Vitellia. I'm following up behind your cavalry charge." He told the Seleukid of Greco-Macedonian decent. "Though I don't think these Persians will be as easy to defeat as the Pamphylian and Cypriots."

"Of course they will be! You forget we Seleukids have been holding them at the gate for sometime now." Zosimos replied, although he was well aware the pinnacle of his own Empire had come years ago, when Tiberius Vitellius crashed into the East with his force. "I'm riding with the Companions; I shall see you after this battle. We will drink in the Persian camp." He exclaimed with a wide hand gesture.

Florianus laughed and turned about heading for his horse. While his outward appearance was of confidence, he feared for his friend. He had already lost his wife as a result of this war, the loss of friends was not something he could endure, but he knew today many friends would most likely be dead.

Calidus Raeus Vitellius mounted his horse in the cool morning air. He tightened his greaves on his arm in a conscious display of studied indifference. Basileus Alexandros led the cavalry out into the dawn, cutting a course with the huge cavalry force to the north and east, around Apameia. Maximus Appus kicked his horse alongside his commanders. “Sir?”

Raeus was silent for a moment, and gazed at the northern sky. “It is time then. Give the word – move out north. Line of battle as discussed.”

Legate Tarquinius Titus Gracchus was awakened as the sky in the east began to pale hinting at sunrise. He stood, walked over to the table and splashed cold water over his face. He took a towel from the slave and dried himself. He stood whilst the slave dressed him in his armour.

Once dressed he left the tent and walked over to the already assembled legion.

“Sorry to keep you waiting gentlemen.” The legion stayed silent, slowly being coated in the blowing sand of the dry East, and some still bitterly hungry from the lack of supply lines that the Roman force was facing. Titus stood in front of them. “No boring long speeches from me just this. Over there are the enemy so let us go and kill them.”

The legion roared whilst banging the edge of their swords on the side of their shields. Titus smiled. “Legion….MARCH!” roared the senior centurion.

------------

The tough veteran men of the first cohort acknowledged Sillius Ramirus Flavus as he walked through their ranks, stern-faced and ready for the bloody battle ahead of him. He drew his sword and awaited the order to advance. As he stood there patiently, numerous thoughts ran through his head- but none more prevalent than the prayers to Mars for his men’s victory today.

“At the double-quick men! We march but we hold line!” Ramirus shouted as the horns blew, signalling the advance. The men marched forward at double speed, north, to battle.

----------
Two miles north,
outside the Persian Camp, Dawn.
----------


Captain Kassanos flicked his horses reins to calm the beast. The Seleukid Master of Horse sat just besides his master, the Basileus Alexandros. The ugly cavalry captain glanced over his shoulder – the horizon was yellowing now; it was barely minutes till sunrise. Behind he and his master were gathered the entire cavalry of the allied army of the east – they would strike as soon as the sun hit the eastern horizon, like an enormous hammer blow to smash aside the Persian cavalry that had spotted them, now forming up for a battle.

Alexandros stirred slightly besides him, making the Greek captain turn. “Best of luck today, sir.”

His king seemed distant, fixated on the task at hand. “And to you, Kassanos. I hope to meet with you at dusk when we can celebrate a fine victory.” His voice sounded anything but hopeful.

“And I you, sir.”

Now Alexandros turned in his saddle, surveying the horizon behind them. With the sun at their backs, it would make life a lot more difficult for the Persian archers. Already, the shimmering top of the suns golden orb was stirring on the horizon. “It is time. Ready the men.” He flicked the visor of his helmet down, and all around him, his elite companion bodyguard did the same.

Praefectus Equitum Aristocles Pamphilos sat calmly upright on his fine stallion as he prepared for what was to come. The he saw it, the Seleukid, King Alexandros gave the order to charge. He and his horseman were but few in a long line of thousands of Seleukid and Roman cavalry. The Praefecous Equitum of the Equites Floriana looked
up and down at the two hundred and seventy cavalrymen who'd made it this far in the campaign.

"Remember men. Today we fight not only for our patron, but for our land of Phoenicia!" The minor Phoenician noble of mixed Greek decent called out to the cavalrymen." He exclaimed setting his horse in motion. "Till every Persian is dead!" He cried and broke forward into a charge followed by the rest of the Equites Floriana.

Further down the line, already advancing at the canter and harassed by some missile fire, the Celtiberian horseman of Legio II Vitellia' cavalry alae noticed the charge of their rivals the Equites Floriana. "Countrymen!" Called out the Praefectus Alae Lusius Servatius. "What are we waiting for? Their only horse archers and cataphracts, not gods! Charge!" He yelled, as he broke off followed by his cavalrymen.

It was a glorious and terrifying sight. Thirty thousand horsemen, the sun at their backs, armour glinting in the golden sunlight, swords raised as they galloped across the plain kicking up a mountain of dust behind them. The noise was thunderous, and before them, the Persian Cataphractoi and Clibanarii of roughly half the Allied contingent returned the charge, while the horse archers broke to the flanks and began their harassment in full.

Shapur stormed from his command tent, fixing on his own cuirass on as his own cavalry contingent quickly formed up. The noise was thunderous, and he cursed at the numbers of enemy men, and the speed at which they had appeared over the hills in the East. Messangers hurried about screaming and cursing, attempting to relay messages throughout the camp.

But Shapur’s keen eyes now scanned the horizon, and to the south, a blur appeared on the horizon. He squinted in the morning half light, but he already knew what they were. The Roman infantry. They had force marched to make battle, and now they were trying to catch him in his own camp.

“Get the men to arms,” Shapur cursed under his breathe, “Get the infantry to arms and form up a defensive line outside of the camp. Put these Romans under fire…”


From a nearby hilltop, Raeus Vitellius watched the Seleukid cavalry smash home into the Persian ranks. The noise was thunderous as the two bodies of horse hit each other at full speed – men and mounts went flying and the first shrieks of the dying could be heard in the air. Already, the left wing of Alexandros’ huge cavalry wedge was riding around the Persian left, Shapur’s orders to extend the line failing to reach his cavalry contingent.

From the hill, he watched as the legions made double time forwards, seeking to close the gap up to the camp, where already a rudimentary line of Persian infantry was being formed up to face them. The speed with which the enemy had reacted had been impressive, but hopefully not impressive enough to keep the legions from getting into camp.

The Romans came on in two great lines, sheer numbers of infantry meaning that it was easier to deploy with a reserve of legions following in behind. The second line would fan out as the first line engaged, shielding the flanks of the first and beginning to wrap around the Persian camp to prevent escape. This second line contained both the Armenian and Seleukid allies – today was a day when Roman discipline and steadfastness would be needed in the front line.

Raeus sat perfectly still for a moment, and watched the glorious sight as the legions and their allies advanced in a perfect show of discipline. ‘How many thousands of these men will lose their lives on this field today?’ he thought. ‘How many families will be left fatherless, widows made, and sons taken from their mothers?’ Today would be a foul and fetid day of slaughter, and the more he experienced it, the more he hated it, but the easier it became to bear. As if seeing enough slaughter may make a man inured to it. And all this death was for what? Dirt and gold, the lifeblood of Empires.

The Proconsular Legate sighed. If the people of Rome knew the true terror, the bloody horror that a battle was, they would not cheer their triumphs, or cry out with victory. They would weep, for those that did not return. Instead they were presented with survivors’; men full of the joy of having lived through a conquest, and presented in shining armour that sparkled in the sun. It was no wonder the people love war. He turned his head skywards briefly, muttered a brief prayer, and followed by his bodyguard, kicked his steed down the slope to join the Roman advance.

Between the Persian line and the VIII Gemina Macedonia was a plethora of obstructions, rotting carcasses, burning carriages, long sharp spikes and other such defences. Orders had been given; the time for procrastination was over. The Persian line was inching ever closer as the Romans moved double time towards it. Soon metal would meet flesh and the fate of Roman supremacy in the east would rise or fall all on the backs of these honest men. As the men marched with the line separated into three, they moved forward towards victory with its Tribunes leading the way. All throughout the line the officers yelled the orders and advanced the line.

On the left was the consular legion IV Fidelis under the command of Legate Roscius Bassus, and it was mixed with cohorts from the XXVI Confringatrix which was led by Tribune Gaius Antonius Brutus who acted as their field legate, in the center was Praefectus Praetorio Daratius Antonius Terpus and his chief of staff ProPraetorian Legate Augustus Tiberius Varro who under his commanders orders intended to lead personally part of XXVI Confringatrix and the VIII Gemina Macedonica. Finally on the right holding the extreme end was the rest of VIII Gemina Macedonica with Tribune Cicero Disius and the Praetorian Guard in reserve waiting for Antonius Terpus to take their reigns because the fight will fall to them as being the extreme right of the whole Roman line. It was for this reason that Terpus thought it absolutely vital to keep the elite VIII Germania Macedonica protecting this all important flank with its best men minues the first cohort and its best tribunes like Cicero Disius. Cicero had waited long for this moment, months of running and retreating had only fuelled his lust for battle. Blood, the ripping flesh - he wanted it all. The men could see in his demeanour that his tether was starting to fray. His deepest of thoughts told him to charge, but the obstacles made that more ineffective. So he waited, and waited and waited.

“HOLD THE LINE!” yelled Tribune Disius at the top of his breath, “AND ADVANCE!”

These were the men of the Danube, amongst the best and strongest fighting forces in the empire, and news of Emperor Varros’ injuries and defeat had ignited the hatred they felt for Persians. As the blood of many Romans had soaked in this very earth for the last 200 years, they would not be the ones who broke the line and became no better than a horde of blood thirsty Germans, so this was not an order, merely a gentle reminder.

In the command position, mounted on horseback, the Prefectus Praetorio pulled the reins on his horse as it turned about. Behind the Roman force the sun had risen. Antonius smiled and looked over to Tiberius “Luckily for the Rome the suns glare becomes the Persians misfortune” Antonius finished. The two slowly galloped forward as the massive armies marched to close the gap which separated them. Antonius gazed over toward Tiberius nodding his head. He reached for the hilt of his sword and clenched it with his fist. “The time has come” Tiberius said realizing the charge about to be called the two men unsheathed their weapons. “Wait for it” Antonius replied. Seconds had passed which seemed like minutes “Wait for it” Antonius said again as the men inched closer to chaos. “Charge!” Antonius ordered pointing his sword in the Persians direction. The order came with quick reply, and swift action. All along the right flank cornicen’s blew their horns signaling the charge. Tiberius himself saluted his commander and rushed forward to the center of the right to lead it personally as Antonius quickly went to work commanding his aids and maintaining his watchful eye.

One foot in front of the other Disius on the extreme right marched double time. Then the sounds of the horns from Terpus orders to charge where heard and Disius found himself screaming out the orders “CHARGE” and rushing out shoulder to shoulder with his men, who truly were his men. A year in the field and they knew him now as one of their own. To the lines right the cavalry battle raged. The first arrows began to fall as the Persian archers; both on foot and horse began to find their range. Some horse archers were between the two lines of infantry, sending their feathered shafts into the advancing mass of men.
Legate Tarquinius Titus Gracchus looked to his right and took in the whole of the second line in which he marched. He could see the dust cloud which he took to be the cavalry battle. He glanced to his left and watched the Seleukid infantry in march, the Armenian troops besides them.

The legions were now within missile range of the camp. Titus heard the swish of arrows and looked up. He could see a force of Persian horse archers milling around on the left flank. He quickly counted them, just as an arrow glanced off his helmet causing it to ring out. The legionaries around him glanced at him. Titus shook his head to clear it.

“No worries men! I have fought Cilician pirates and wild Goths in Germania, do you think a cowardly Persian wearing nothing more than silk night cloths can hurt me?!” He was relieved to see them grin. He grinned back as the centurions began to call out orders. “Keep together lads; leave the dead! Watch for any hiding in the tents!”

“Steady boys!” Legate Carus Florianus Julianus shouted over the growing din. Legio II Vitellia was advancing boldly in its triplex acies formation at double pace as they neared the Persian camp. The first line consisting of Cohors I to IV, the second line; Cohors V to VII and the third line; Cohors VIII to X. Between the first and second line; rode Legate Carus Florianus Julianus two Adiuvators, his tribunes deployed
at intervals between the first and second line.

Arrows flew by here and there, with the occasional wave crashing down upon the legionaries. Men buckled and fell, shields were splintered, and the bloody process of advancing ever closer to the camp’s defences became ever more gruesome.

"Easy… Granius keep them in formation… not yet…." Florianus called out to his first tribune over the constant thud of thousands of marching feet and pained cries. He waited till the line came close enough to the Persian camp so as not to tire itself out charging. "Now legionaries of the first, second, third and forth cohorts! Make us all proud!" He yelled, although was aware only a few hundred men were in earshot.

Only a hundred meters from the enemy camp Florianus closed his eyes and thought of his recently departed wife; Lucia Cumanus. Opening them again, he signalled for the first line to begin the running charge; the Cornicen's in the first line blew their cornu. In the first rank of the first cohort; Praefectus Castrorum Sentius Tutor drew his gladius from its scabbard and repeated the Legate's orders with a hoarse yell. Forward the first line went at the running charge, increasing the pace as they drew closer to the camp. The horse archers melted away to the flanks, clearing a path straight at the hurriedly assembling infantry.

Within thirty meters of the camp and the enemy soldiers were forming up into something resembling a line in front of their tents; the well drilled legionaries instinctively threw their pila. On mass they flew into the air before imbedding themselves on the enemy soldiers, tents and the ground before them. Florianus surveyed the carnage, and noted with some surprise that his men seemed to be lined up with the element of the Persian army made up of the army of Armenia. There was only the time for a quick glance though; already, the legions pressed on to close the gap.

It took iron will to make those last five meters and hit the enemy, the bravest or the most foolhardy went ahead of their comrades and led by example, the rest were edge on by their Centurions in the front rank and the Optios in the rear rank. But the noise of collision was thunderous, as close to ten thousand men crashed their shields together, and battle proper was joined.

The northern Armenian soldiers varied; levies armed with wicker shields and swords, to the trained heavy spearman that formed the backbone of the client army. Praefectus Castrorum Sentius Tutor punched out with his shield against a heavy spearman before driving forward with his gladius into the man's rib gage, quickly pulling the sword back out and continuing to push forward. "Forward you sons of Minerva! Into the tents, kill them all!" He called out evoking the words from the Legate's earlier speech.

Florianus surveyed the scene before him as the two thousand two hundred legionaries of the first line attempted to push into camp and cut their way through the northern Armenians and Persians who rushed forward to their rear and flanks to back them up. He could see the legion’s Eagle making its way forward, held up high and proudly by the Aquilifer Lucilius Laetinianus, or if unlucky, whoever had replaced him.


Shield on shield, Tribune Cicero Disius drew his sword back and the stabbed it into the nearest Persians and then nothing. He felt nothing at all. The moment he had waited for these long months passed as soon as it came. Dismayed he jabbed his sword harder, and faster trying to feel as he had once. The soldiers around him saw their Tribune leading the fighting and redoubled their efforts. Losing all control Cicero let out a roar that shook the earth around him. As if possessed by a mad man, he thrust and parried and thrust and parried, all concern for his own person abandoned he strove to fulfill his ending desire for battle. At that very moment the Persian line began to falter on the right. It appeared that this might end as quickly as it began but these hopes were soon destroyed as more Persians poured out of the camp and reinforced the line.

“HOLD THE LINE”, another friendly reminder to the men, they pushed, as the battle raged on around them. “Heave!!!” Cicero yelled but with little effect against the now reinforced right flank of the Persian line.

To the surprise of the Tribune, his momentum was soon countered by that of the Persian reinforcements. He found himself in a mess that he had propagated himself, leading headlong into the men without securing his own proper reinforcement. With the ten or so men that had followed him in an attempt to break through the line, Cicero slowly eased back to the line, careful not to lose his footing.

Observing the carnage, Praefectus Praetorio Antonius Terpus sat high on his horse with a proud look as he observed his boy fight valiantly for him. His concentration interrupted only by the need to dictate impending orders to his aides to be dispersed throughout the line. In the center of the right part of the Roman line, ProPraetorian Legate Tiberius Varro split his time between communicating with his commander, Antonius Terpus, and commanding the center of the right. Admittingly, he was not as eager as his Tribune, and while he stayed near the front line, he took on a more managerial role filling in gaps with reserves; although occasionally he pushed to the front to fill a hole himself until a reinforcement could arrive.

These were only short bursts from their commander but it was enough to encourage the legions around him. By this point few casualties had occurred and the Persian line was held. On the left with Gaius Antonius Brutus, he took the same measures Tiberius took and enjoyed intermediate fighting as his men held the line and tried to break through. Further to the left, the IV Fidelis was steady in their way. Their legate, Roscius Bassus, did not fight at all and instead stayed back from the fighting and watched over his part of the line like a hawk ready to pounce on an opening. In whole, the right part of the Roman line, for the time being, was in a deadlock between the Persians light infantry men, with pockets of the Persian Immortals now pressing into the line.

At this point the Praetorian Guard, despite the stalemate, remained in reserves only being used sparingly to fill gaps in the line. Back in the center, Tiberius found himself a bit disappointed as he had hoped to push right past this initial line. This, however, was not the case and Tiberius soon realized it and came to terms with it. After all, he was more concerned with following his commanders orders to protect his men and keeping casualties down rather than a quick and sloppy victory. His only saving grace in his disappointment was it appeared that the rest of the line under other generals did not have the same difficulty.

----------
Half an Hour Later,
Persian encampment
----------

Raeus Vitellius glanced all along the line as the second line began to fan out. The Persian formation had thrown up dogged, near fanatical resistance to the Roman infantry drive, proving far sturdier than the Proconsular Legate had initially reckoned. Now though, the second line was pressing out to push on the flanks, and fresh troops stepped to the fore, although the Persians also received troops streaming from their camp.
The Roman commander cast his eyes eastwards, to where the cavalry battle still raged. The dust the horses kicked up made vision there virtually impossible, though it seemed that whether by accident or design, Alexandros was leading the Persian force away from the infantry. Raeus wished he could see how exactly it went, but had to turn his eyes away to focus on the infantry. ‘There is nothing you can do to affect it,’ he thought to himself. ‘Focus now on the task before you.’

As his eyes drifted across to the infantry line, his attention was drawn to a figure in fine armour, mounted on horseback in camp. Men scrambled around to fulfill the Persians hurried instructions, and Raeus knew at once it must be Shapur. He had never met the man, but he knew of his reputation as a skilled general. He tilted his head in acknowledgement of the general, but was almost certain that the Persian prince did not see. He was too busy focusing his eyes on one section of the line and indicating to a nearby aide the area. And yet there was a slight moment, perhaps where the sun had hit the general’s regalia to create some illusion, where Shapur seemed to acknowledge the Roman general. Raeus shrugged it off, paying no matter to the distressed commander.
And suddenly Raeus saw why. For just right of centre, the Persian line was weakening, and beginning to fail.

Sillius Ramirus Flavus pushed to second rank of the third cohort, yelling his orders to push forward as loud as he could. Ramirus had noticed that Persian lines had become thinner as the cohorts began to slice through their lines. He turned his head to and fro making sure his men held the line and stayed in formation. A hole in the Persian line in front of the third cohort opened and was just the opening Ramirus was waiting for- and needed.

“Centurion! Order the third rank to rally on me, we’re going to charge into that gap and roll up their line! Move!” Ramirus shouted, waving an arm for emphasis.

The third rank rushed in behind the men in the gap and flooded behind and into the Persian line. The men pushed through and fanned out, heaving on their shields to open a lane and pry the line apart. Men roared with the effort and the strain, but suddenly, Ramirus and his line were through. The Persian line had been broken through, and now men began to flood through the gap.

The men before the II Vitellia were weakening as well. Florianus Julianus sat up high on his horse watching as the legionaries in the first line began to press into the camp; he was anxious to throw his second line in. They stood only twenty meters behind the engaged troops such was the closeness of the fighting. A Persian javelin came flying in four meters from the small staff party startling the horses. Having had enough, Florianus rode over to Tribune Flavius Granius Cumanus and pointed to a large body of northern Armenian heavy spear. "Granius! You take the fifth and sixth cohorts and break those spearman! I don't need them holding up our advance into the camp!"

Tribune Cumanus saluted before riding over to the front of the two cohorts; he dismounted from his horse and drew his sword. "Legionaries, follow me!" He yelled drawing his Parazonium and leading the two cohorts forward from the second line.

Florianus watched as his friend led the men into the thick of the fighting before he turned back and rode down the line looking for any gaps in the line. Then he spotted it, a pathway between the tents leading towards the centre of the camp. It was not laid out as neatly as a Roman camp but all camps had the same basic principles.

"Centurion Castinus! Centurion Humilus!" He yelled out to both the remaining cohort commanders in the second line. "You see that path into the camp? Lead your cohorts against either side and clear the tents once you're done, the third line is going to come charging in behind you like a Seleukid elephant!"
Legate Tarquinius Titus Gracchus felt nothing but pride as his legion swept into the Persian encampment, placing itself far on the left of the large Roman line that swept into camp. He quickly glanced right and watched as the other legions tore into the tents. The tents caused the legions formation to break into smaller groups, and so he waved to one of the tribunes behind him.

“Marcus, pass the word along to the centurions to try and maintain contact with the flanking cohorts. Get them to…….” At that moment a contingent of Persian infantry came screaming from the tents in front.

“SHIELDS UP AND LOCK!” Came the order. Titus hefted his shield up and took his place in the front line. He drew his sword and stood waiting for the Persians. The eastern infantry soon closed with the legion and began to wildly hack with their swords. Titus grunted as he lunged quickly forward catching a Persian in the stomach. The Persian screamed as he fell. Titus stepped over him stabbing at the next Persian whilst calling back to the men behind.“Make sure they are all dead!”

The legionary to Titus’ left caught a Persian in the throat, cutting the main artery. Titus was splashed with the blood, temporarily blinding him. At this moment a large Persian slashed down with his sword forcing Titus’ knees to buckle. The Persian raised his sword to deliver the killer blow but the legionary behind Titus lunged forward with his sword catching his opponent in the face. The Persian fell to the ground, dead. Titus was helped to his feet by the legionary that had saved his life. He looked into his face, nodded and watched as the rest of the men pressed forwards around them. Titus turned and looked back over the ground the legion had marched over. He saw dead Persians but noticed amongst the horde of Persians an occasional Roman corpse. He turned to the legionary, “Stay with me lad.”


----------
The Roman Right Flank
----------


The battle on the right raged on. More immortals had backed up the Persians right flank but it made little difference. The left and center were now beginning to fold, but the presence of the Persian elite on the extreme right held the line in this section. It was at this time that Antonius Terpus noticed this fact and decided to take advantage of it and ordered Tiberius Varro to tighten his attack on the center and funnel more men into the extreme right to spread the line out further. “Tiberius!” Antonius shouted riding fast toward him with urgency. I shall commit to the flank, bringing the Praetorians along the rear from reserve and assist Tribune Disius in his flanking maneuvers. Hold the line as long as possible! Antonius finished as the two executed salutes. Upon those orders, Tiberius Varro took a more hands on approach and found himself constantly going back between the front line and his officers to keep track of his large section of the army.

On the left, Antonius Brutus still remained behind his troops as their continued to be a stalemate with casualties mounting on either side. Further down the line, Roscius Bassus and the IV Fidelis were experiencing much of the same resistance Brutus was facing. Bassus was heard at one point cursing the Persians for wasting his time with this poor defence that just wont die. On the extreme right, Cicero Disius was beginning stretch the line out as ordered, though the remaining uncommitted horse archers harried them. A cohort that he ordered to act as a shield for the fighting men were having little effect but were still helpful and provided limited cover for the men. “This stalemate ends now, I’ll be damned if we are the last into that camp.” Tiberius proclaimed to an aide as he dispatched an order and a request. The order was to Tribune Disius to start flanking the right. The request was to Terpus to use the Praetorian Guards to crush the right. Yet little did Tiberius know that Terpus was way ahead of him.

When the aide arrived on the right, he passed on the orders to the Legate, and then pressed into pass the command on to the relevant cohorts. He was told that Tribune Disius was in the center of the fight and fighting for his life and the honor of our legion. With little choice, the staff officer made his way through the line and came to the front where he ordered men to push out in front of Tribune Disius and push the light Persian infantry away at an oblique from him. The legionaries complied and soon with a mighty thrust extended the line in a bulge shape around their commander. Disius in a daze realized he had no more foes around him and in a rage yelled “I DIDN’T ORDER THIS!”

“No, I did sir.” The aide said, pushing his way in front of the Tribune at last. Disius, a bit blood crazy marched up on the aid and protested “You had better have a damn good reason for doing that.”

“I do sir, orders from General Varro, you are to use the extra reinforcements he is sending you and extend your line further to flank the right. He strictly said this stalemate has to end and he is counting on your men to do it.” The aide proclaimed in an intimidated tone. “Very well, tell General Varro that it will be done immediately.” Disius said and he turned and pushed away back into the battle. Cicero moved through the line further to its right. He pulled a centurion out of the fighting.

“Time to flank, their body will collapse in on itself given enough pressure.” There was no time for oratory; he yelled these orders at the reliable man.
“Yes sir.” The centurion shot back.

The immortals held firm in a disciplined block, shields facing out. But the men were starting to tire on both sides and the decisive moment was near. Cicero could feel it. The men could feel it. It would happen soon. With that in mind, and with every ounce of energy left, he decided to flank as best he could. “ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!” the cry went out and all the men reciprocated. The ranks had thinned slightly, but showing their true fighting skill the men pushed on beyond any modicum of pain and exhaustion.

Cicero joined the line and with the same fury as before launched himself into the Persians. The flanking maneuvers was a modest success, while the immortals held their ground, the regular Persians were starting to falter, even with the presence of the elite troops. Cicero’s unit was able to reach their furthest extremity and was attacking the side of the front line. Soon he could see the men making some real progress. He redoubled his efforts; with every moment he killed and maimed another Persian, his mind becoming dazed with the instinct that often catches a man in a time of battle. He, however, failed to recognized that men must be weary in such situations. His instincts got the best of him, and as he cut into the Persians he faced a more Elite force.
Shapur kept with him, at all times, a contingent of 10,000 Immortals. Always 10,000. It was the mark of a body of Immortals to be at precisely 10,000 men, lightly armored but expertly trained, far superior to the rabble that made up the Persian infantry... Infantry that Shapur held with much contempt, being far more suited to cavalry than anything else...

Cicero came out of his daze to realize, yet again, that he had overshot his own abilities. His men, at least those who recognized his situation, drastically pushed forward in attempt to reinforce him, but as they did two Immortals locked into combat with their Tribune. Cicero grunted loudly as he smashed his gladius against the wicker shield of one of the attacking Immortals, countering his attack and cutting deep into his leg to let loose a stream of blood. But just as the man’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground, his fellow countrymen stabbed ferociously into Cicero’s chest, and the Tribune cried out in pain, stepped back quickly into the men behind him. As the Immortal continued to pursue him, prepared to deliver the final blow unto the young officer, Cicero lost his footing and fell head-first into a mass of bodies and dirt. Before the world around him faded and grew black, Cicero saw the feet of the legionaries come to reinforce his post.

Yet for all his efforts, the Immortals were not budging and seemed to be fighting to the last man. Something more was needed, and it was needed fast for Cicero’s men were running out of steam. It was at that moment that Antonius and the entirety of the Praetorians fell behind the extreme right. Dismounting Antonius prepared to fight alongside his men. Double time behind Macedonica’s rear in column, which soon became a jog, the Guard moved graciously. Toward the front the first rank held a shield with their left hand, matched with pilum in their right. Reaching the end of the flank the horn blew as the Praetorians scattered outward catching the Persians off guard. Initially Praetorians peppered the Persians with only a single volley. Pila filled the skies, hitting both Roman and Persian alike, relentless Antonius and his men charged forward before the volley even hit its target. Persian Immortals took cover from the oncoming volley, and unsuspecting attack. Antonius shouted charging into the fray. A Persian made way through the charge while a Praetorian sliced at his upper torso making easy work as the Prefectus plunged his blade hard into his chest.

Antonius looked into the eyes of his enemy and shouted “Punishment for defying Rome” before pushing the dead Persian off his blade. “Punish these Persians!” Shouted Antonius committing further as the battle continued. The sounds of metal clashing as the two engaged surely satisfied Mars, for the god of war smiled upon this day. Shortly after the initial burst from the Praetorians, and the continued efforts of the remaining cavalry force, the line broke like an elephant stepping on a sleeping man. Soon thereafter, a domino effect occurred and the whole right end of the Persian line began to collapse in on itself. Tiberius in the center was overjoyed by his Commander and Tribunes success and took advantage of it. The first part of the battle was won and the men in their eagerness started to push after the Persians into the camp.

Antonius, in command found himself among the Praetorians reforming for a second wave. Upon their reformation after the scattering of the Persians, Antonius congratulated and then commanded “Now men, prepare yourselves the day has only begun”…The soldiers shouted among themselves as they caught their breath. The Praetorians pulled back into reserve as Terpus himself galloped back into a command position as the rest of his army poured into the camp.

---------
One hour later
---------

The fighting amongst the tents was confused and bloody. Both Roman and Persian forces were losing their tactical cohesion amidst the tangle of tents – men fought in what formations they could bring together; some fought and died alone. Only on the extreme left and right of the Roman lines were the two sides able to maintain formation as the weight of numbers allowed the western troops to push retreating Persian troops away from the tented encampment.

Calidus Raeus Vitellius and his bodyguard rode along the line of the tented encampment. A scowl crossed the commanders face; with the breakdown of the force as they broke into camp, there was little he could do from here. He had to trust to his men’s ability and those of the officers to try to keep the soldiers together.

The sun had now comfortably broken the horizon and the cool morning was giving way to the dry heat of an eastern day. The dust kicked up from the presence of so many men obscured much of the field, and made the air heavy and difficult to breathe.

Besides the general, Hadrius Cinna cursed lightly as his horse stumbled over a dead body. They were scattered everywhere over the field – groups of reserves took those they could back towards the rear where the surgeons had set up. There they would work and take the men’s limbs, bind their wounds and pray for them. There was little more that could be done.

Raeus’ eyes were drawn to one body, were the birds had already begun to feed on his still warm carcass. The commander felt strange, for in truth, he felt nothing. ‘How many score of men have I seen like this?’ he thought. ‘Thousands? Tens of thousands?’ At first it had bothered him; he still remembered his first kill, and the sense of awe-inspiring power, guilt and responsibility it brought. But you saw enough dead men – and women and children, he reflected darkly – and you became immune, it stopped to bother you. ‘Why is that?’ he thought. ‘Why is one death such an individual tragedy, but the regular touch and experience of its grim embrace on your comrades lessened its own hold on you.

His reverie was distracted by a Seleukid captain kicking his horse near to Raeus’ staff. “Basileus Alexandros has been injured, sir. His body has been removed from the field, presumable conscious, but his cavalry have managed to drive of the enemy body of cavalry. All but the horse archers are in full route from the field, presumable under Shapur’s brother, the King of Persian Armenia.”

Raeus nodded at once. “I shall see to I that my physicians attend to the Basileus. Inform whoever is in charge that I wa- no, sir, no... I require men on the right to reinforce our position. My right shall be immediately re-adjusted so that we may push some of the enemy towards this expected reinforcement. Hopefully we can crush some detachments between us. Ask that he try to push some of the horse archers into this gap as well.” The aide didn’t respond, simply kicking his horse away. Raeus sawed on his own reins to turn to Maximus Appus. “Get word to ProPraetorian Legate Varro and Legate Vitellius. Ask them to adjust their lines right, get the men back into formation and push east towards the cavalry. Oh, and send the Praetorians and the remains of the reserves in through the center. Clean up behind us, and start to bring the supplies up.” It would be a difficult task, but the less Persians that escaped today, the better the chances of actually winning this forsaken war.

----------
The Roman Centre
----------

The first and second battle lines of Legio II Vitellia's triplex acies formation had merged into one confused mass as the legionaries cut their way through the northern Armenian and Persian troops in the camp; some tents were toppled to the ground as the mass of Roman legionaries trampled them underneath.

It had taken sometime for Florianus to get the third line to wheel about and drive towards the center of the camp, but cohorts eight, nine and ten led by the Legate himself were moving briskly down a central camp passageway. Arrow fire was sporadic; but not enough for the men to form testudo.

Carus Florianus Julianus, on foot to avoid making himself a target in the confused tent to tent fighting kept pace with the three cohort column as it made its way deeper into the camp. They came out to an opening with larger tents scattered around. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an Optio pull a kicking and screaming woman out of a tent. "Optio! We have more important things to do right now. Send her to the rear; your century can desecrate her later!" He called as several legionaries jeered at the Optio.

"Legatus, to the front!" Said a Centurion watching as a party of well armed and finely uniformed northern Armenian guardsman made their way towards the Romans. They were led by a Captain Ararat Hovhannes who halted before the Romans. "Where is your commander?" Hovhannes called out in poor Koine Greek.

"I'm him." Florianus called back out in his own intermediate Koine Greek. "What do you want?" He asked placing a hand against the chest of the eighth cohort's commander to stop him doing anything rash.

"We wish to capitulate." Hovhannes stated. "We will surrender along with what remains of our soldiers if you agree not to harm any prisoners takes... our King has... abandoned the field with the Persian Cavalry.”

Florianus grinned widely. "Understood. Tell your commander that Legatus Carus Florianus Julianus and II Vitellia accepts his surrender,” replied then turned to the Centurion besides him. "Continue pushing forward through the camp against the Persians with the other cohorts. I'll post a strong guard here to protect our interests and return to our lines with Captain Hovhannes and order the remaining northern Armenians to surrender. Understood?" He said waiting for a nod before parting company with the Centurion.
Sillius Ramirus Flavus looked around him at the now loose formation of the third cohort. The sight was sheer carnage as men were dropping around him. Fortunately most of them were Persians. Ramirus thought to himself, ‘These men of mine are doing better than I expected!’ It was a good hard fight but the discipline and veteran training of the I Vitellia was showing through.

He glanced out the corner of his eyes and saw three of his men taking on two Immortals- ‘Incredible!’ he thought to himself. Before Ramirus could react outside of thought, other Immortals had killed one of his men and the other two were in a fight for their lives.

He raised the shield midway and crashed into one of the immortals knocking him to the ground. His guards quickly moved in for the kill as the Tribune just as quickly swung the shield around to protect from any attack. The immortal wasted no time in giving battle, battering his sword against Ramirus’ shield in rapid succession.

Ramirus weathered the fury but as he stepped back he tripped over corpse and fell on his back. He rolled to his right having let go of the shield on way down. The immortal stepped between him and the shield and with his sword in one hand gestured for Ramirus to attack with the other. Ramirus stepped forward and the swordplay was on - the two seemed to be dancing as they both parried and thrusted, feeling for a weakness. The exchange went back and forth for a moment till the two now too close to each other to maneuver became entangled. They both, with the one free hand, grabbed the others sword hand trying to push or shove the other over and gain an advantage.

Ramirus did his best to knee the immortal in his groin, because immortal or not, all men felt that. He only managed to graze it but that was enough to momentary disrupt the immortal’s focus. In that very quick moment Ramirus swiftly head butted the immortal in the face, allowing him to free his hand and plunge his sword into the immortals chest. The shield of the immortal stopped the blade from fully hitting its mark, so Ramirus grabbed tight onto the shoulder of the immortal and with several vicious thrusts lodged the blade deeper and deeper into his chest.

As the elite Persian warrior fell to the ground a cheer from some of the surrounding men arose, fuelling their fire for blood even brighter.


----------
The Roman Left Flank
----------

A badly wounded Persian tried to lift his sword at the approach of Legate Tarqiunus Titus Gracchus. Titus stepped forward and lunged down once, killing the Persian. The Legate soon caught up with the legion. He glanced down and saw one of his tribunes lying face down in a pool of blood. He cursed under his breath just as Marcus Veno approached. Marcus glanced down and blanched visibly. Titus noticed but ignored it. Marcus soon straightened and gave his report.

“Sir, the Persian light infantry to our front are starting to collapse, one push and they will run.” He glanced back down at the corpse. “Poor Septimus, all he ever wanted to be was liked.” He looked back at Titus. “Any orders sir?”

Titus looked around. “Yes, make sure the men do not advance to far. Get one of the reserve cohorts to bring up food and water and to gather our wounded and dead. Tell them to kill any wounded Persians they find.” Marcus saluted and ran off. Just then a huge roar came from the front of the legion. Titus looked up and then ran to the front of the legion. The remaining Persian light infantry were fleeing head long from the camp, westwards. Several of the men began to run after them.

“STOP!” Titus ordered. “Remain in position!” The men stopped and rejoined the ranks. Titus looked to his left and watched as the Seleukids also formed line. He looked to his right and watched the centre too began to give way. A legionary ran up and offered him some water. He waved the man away with an order. “Make sure the men drink first.” The legionary saluted and handed the water to the nearest group who each took a swallow of water. One of them approached Titus and saluted. “Sir, are you wounded?”

Titus looked down at his armour that was covered in drying blood. He looked at the legionary and smiled. “No, just some inconsiderate Persian bled all over me.” He turned to his legion. “Well done men let us hope the other legions have done half as well as you.”

----------
The Roman Right Flank
----------

Since the Roman right entered the camp they faced chaotic resistance at first. There were sporadic groups of light infantry running everywhere and attacking at random, but for the most part the camp seemed very unorganized and filled with mayhem. As the army marched on, the first line did little to pull down tents, they cut holes and looked for people hidden, but for the most part they left the demolition to the third line which pulled down every tent; which left a littered waste land in their wake. Both on the left and right of the moving line, Tribunes Brutus, Disius and Legate Bassus met much of the same disorganized and crazy defenses as the Praetorian Guard fell back into reserve and Praefectus Praetorio Antonius Terpus went back with them to take a survey of the mayhem.

Now, with the request from Proconsular Legate Vitellius, Antonius Terpus ordered Tiberius Varro tollow through with the request. As a result, Tiberius had adjusted the right flank, angling it out of camp towards the cavalry battle. Here, it was easier to keep the men in formation, and the cohorts present were pressed back into line by their centurions and officers. The cavalry battle had moved nearer, and was being pressed nearer still. And now the legions advanced to fill the gap, but screening that, was a last disciplined force several thousand of the Persian immortals, which now rushed to engage the Roman legions. Tiberius Varro barked, “Lock shields! Hold!” as he braced the line and looked to Terpus for his orders.

The two lines collided in an explosion of sound and thanks to the quick thinking and instincts of their general, the front line managed to hold and brace itself with little casualties. Tiberius was at the front of the line with his elite cohort shoulder to shoulder with other cohorts. The Immortals screamed and chopped away at Tiberius and his army but to their dismay, the Romans held their ground and fought back with equal if not greater ferocity. On the left, Brutus was struggling to keep his line together, he had to call to the reserves who themselves were a bit busy with counteracting a flanking attack from the Persians which was mediocre and not much of a concern for it was filled with beaten light infantry that soon lost its heart to fight and fled in the face of the Romans rear. As for the IV Fidelis, Terpus had ordered them to fell back to mostly reserves and protected the rear in the open and exposed spaces when he had the line moved out of the camp. This however did not mean that some of its cohorts were not with the XXVI Confringatrix filling in gaps and helping to protect the left flank.

----------
The Roman Centre
----------

Centurion Justus Longinus rushed over to Sillius Ramirus Flavus and bent over to catch his breath. Ramirus looked down to see that he was alright and then quickly turned back towards his men. “What is it Justus, why aren’t you with the first?”

He took a deep breath in an effort to compose himself. “Sir I think we’ve found him.”

“Found who?” Ramius snapped. There was still fighting going on around them and he did not have time to play the guessing game.

“Shapur, general Shapur!” Justus said as his voice wavered.

Ramirus head shot around, he could not ignore this. Not now. “Where is he?!”

“The first had been engaging heavy infantry that have been forming into lines. They had already seen six immortals and men wearing very different armour than we’ve seen out here so far. I think they are his guards.”

“Get over there and tell them to press the attack!” Ramirus bellowed. “You get them to break down any formation the Persians may try and get into. I will be right behind you with more men!”

Justius saluted then ran back to deliver the orders. Ramirus took this moment to rally one maniple and one century and headed to reinforce the first cohort. He arrived to see the cohort heavily bogged down in battle with heavy infantry and a few immortals. It wasn’t going as well as it should have in order for Justus to break away and deliver a message. A quick reminder to reprimand the soldier later if he survived whizzed through Ramirus’ head.

Ramirus untied the straps of his helmet, pulling it off and dropping it to the ground. He used his arm to wipe the sweat away off his forehead as he searched the lines for the legions signa. Ramirus pointed to the front of the line and ordered, “Deploy our men centurion!”

He then ran over to the Aquilifer holding the signa and had his men surround him. “I want you to advance and hold the signa high so everyone in the cohort can see it. My men have orders to protect you at all costs but your going to move forward and your not going to stop till I order it.”

“Yes sir!” The Aquilifer responded, lifting the emblem, and moved lock and step with Ramirus men as they moved forward.

“CLOSE RANKS AND ADVANCE!” Ramirus shouted as he moved down the line.

The loose formation now instinctively tightened and pushed forward against the Persian heavy infantry. These men fought better then the light infantry but there was nothing that could stop the Roman line being pushed on.

Shapur recognized his position of despair, but perhaps acknowldeged in his mind that he had been in this position since the very commencement of hostilities on such unfavourable terms. He watched as the Romans pushed on his position, preparing his mounted guard to make a quick and desperate retreat.

Shapur sat tall on his mount, flanked by finely decorated Cataphractoi and Immortals. Both sides waited, swords drawn for what would happen next as the rest of the battle raged around them. Ramirus pushed his way through his men and looked over to the Persians. He sought out General Shapur and locked eyes with him; the two stared at each other as if they were fighting a battle that no one else could see.

Ramirus raised his left hand, signaling for his personal guard Cassius. “I want Shapur, and I want him unharmed- kill the rest of them.” Ramirus back peddled as Cassius gave the order then led a charge against the final few men.

Cassius and the rest of Ramirus’ fighting private guard tapped a few soldiers from the surrounding melee to run into Shapur and his small guard. They slammed into them like boulders tumbling down a mountain, but in a last ditch effort by the expertly trained bodyguard of the Prince, they were held back while their general still contemplated personal retreat.

Ramirus couldn’t stand around and watch the whole thing. There were Persian infantry still piling against his Roman soldiers and spilling more blood than he hoped. He caught glimpses as often as he could, and each time noticed that there were less and less of his men and more Persian; the numbers of that small conflict were about two to one, but his soldiers fought toughly, and weren’t about to go down without the bravest of fights.

Eventually more Roman soldiers pressed into the fight, seeing that Shapur had unsheathed his own sword. The idea that they were so close to the Persian General fuelled their desire for victory, and capturing this particular armies leader would mean just that. The Immortals took out two of every three Roman that came their way, which ripped out Ramirus’s heart every time he saw it. But there were more Romans joining the fray and soon enough the elite fighting skills of the Persian soldiers weren’t enough to save their lives - the Immortals around the General were stricken to the earth as fodder for worms.

Shapur dismounted as his world seemed to collapse around him. He patted his horse sternly, sending it off into the fray behind him to likely be intercepted by some Roman flanker. It was of no consequence, none at all. Next came his finely crafted helm, it clashed against the sand and dust beneath him with a noise that echoed in his head. Finally, his sword. He dropped it to the ground, and the remaining guards he had followed suit, only to be slaughtered by the barbarity that he hypocritical heart of Rome offered forth.

The Persian Prince’s mind seemed to slip into reality as he was slowly escorted away behind the Roman line, this one time being able to see the extent of his failure… And for once his very childhood, Shapur was forced to hide tears… Tears of woe, those that echoed his utter defeat, and tears of anger, as reminders of the reasoning behind his policy to take no prisoners of any rank flooded through his busy mind.

After the isolated battle Ramirus was pitted in ended in Roman favour when the remaining Persians turned and ran, he made back to where Cassius waited with Shapur in bonds, fuming from beneath the rag tied over his face. His armor belied the filthy rag and clearly showed the body attached to the covered head was of an important Persian man- and so did the sword in Cassius’s had. He handed it to Ramirus without words, and watched as his commander’s eyes lit up with the most sincere awe.

Flanked by fifteen guards, Ramirus escorted Shapur like a dog through the fighting lines of I Vitellia. The sight of the captured general being lead by the young tribune raised cheers by eager on lookers. Each soldier who saw the beautifully armored Persian dragged like a prisoner felt an increased surge of pride and without hesitation fought more strongly, as if suddenly rested again- their vigour returned. Ramirus made his way to Legate Gaius Flavianus, who was sitting on horse back surrounded by his staff toward the farther rear of the fighting legion.

Curious at was causing such a rabble, the legate galloped up to intercept Ramirus, who stood at attention and saluted. He shouted down from his horse, concerned. “What is all this Ramirus?”

“Sir! A gift for you to present to Proconsular Legate Vitellius!” Ramirus nodded to Cassius, who forced Shapur to his knees. “The Persian commander, Spahbod Shapur.”

Gaius smiled, and dismounted his horse “General Shapur, huh.” Visibly pleased, Gaius put his arm around Ramirus. “You did fine work today, my men will take charge of your prisoner but the honor and any reward will go to you. Now get back in there and secure this victory with blood!”

----------
The Roman Command Centre
----------

The battle was virtually over. Only on the Roman right towards the remains of the cavalry battle were there any meaningful engagements. Raeus Vitellius could see now that much of the remains of the Persians horse were being driven from the field. The carnage amongst the cavalry was terrible, the Roman commander could see horses and men strewn like milled corn across the field. Now, the Seleucid force was forcing the remains towards the Roman lines. The commander turned to an aide.

”Send a message to Basileus Alexandros’ replacement. Ask that any reserves he can spare be dispatched westwards with all speed to harry the Persian retreat.” An aide disappeared quickly. Already, the reserves and Praetorians were pressing through the remains of the Persian camp to give some pursuit to the retreating Persians. But a party pressing towards the Roman commander lifted his spirits.

“Gauis Flavianus’ compliments, sir, and he presents you with General Shapur.” The staff officer and guards stepped aside, revealing the bound Persian general. Raeus looked him over with his steely gaze, and turned to the guards who had escorted him. “Cut his bonds at once, and get that blindfold off him.” Once this was done, he turned to the general himself, addressing him in Aramaic. “Greetings, Shapur. My apologies for your treatment, you are not deserving of it. Your men have fought well today. You may keep your sword, if your honour will allow it.”

The Persian Prince’s face was visibly red with anger, infuriated by his original treatment, but it subsided and he gave a gentle nod, responding in Greek, “It will be allowed, General Vitellius.” His sword was presented to him, which he tucked into his belt. He looked about to say something else, but held his tongue.

“Have him taken to the rear. I shall dine with you tonight, general.” Raeus spoke coldly. The idea of dining with the supposedly arrogant filled him with as much dread as the battle he had just endured.

----------
The Roman Right Flank
----------

An hour had passed since the fight began on the right with the Immortals and little headway was made by either side. On the one side stood around three thousand Immortals, the heavy infantry of the Persian army, with cavalry now being pushed onto the Roman line, and on other side stood elements of the Fidelis, Confringatrix and Gemina Macedonia with the Praetorian guard remaining in reserves for the moment. On the left, Brutus continued to struggle but held his line. Always the conscious captain, Brutus made slow and steady progress but as time went on he found himself following the command of Legate Bassus who was leading parts of the Fidelis in the front line and the remainder which acted as a rear guard from the Persian cavalry battle. No matter how long this battle raged on for, he continued with the same vigor he started with.

In between the center where Tiberius was and Tribune Disius’s contingent was a group of four hundred led by a senior centurion by the name of Publius Vatrenus. Publius had been with the VIII Gemina Macedonica since the Gothic war and had created quite a reputation for himself among his men. He was respected and trusted for his judgment. When asked what the men thought of him they would always provide the most encouraging of words. This day, Publius was to prove his worth as he was given command of one of the cohorts in absence of a Tribune. Eager to prove his worth, he lead from the front of his line like so many ambitious captains do. While in heavy combat, Publius was side blinded by an Immortals sword end and then cut severely on the arm. In his rage, the centurion went after the cheap-shotting Persian giving no concern to his safety or even discipline. Publius pushed past his men and soon found himself all alone within the Persian line fighting for his life. The first man came after him and he chopped him down, another man came from behind and he got him too.
A third and a fourth came and Titus fought them off but by the fifth and sixth man, Titus was overwhelmed and soon found himself surrounded. By this point his men had realized what had happened and tried desperately to push past the Persians and into the line to save their centurion. Publius in the meantime was still fending them off but could not hold in the face of such numbers. As Publius took down his fifth man, a sixth came up behind him and hamstrung him. In pain, Titus fell to his knees and couldn’t get up. All around him the Persians stared at him and then in unison they all converged on him at the same time and plunged their swords into him. The centurion screamed in pain as blood poured from the wounds and before he could finish his screams of anguish, another Persian stormed up to his dying body and with one fling of his sword chopped Publius’ head off, and then picking up the head and holding it high for encouragement. The Persians rang out in cheers and then the man holding the head threw it into the Roman line. This incited the men who pushed forward with anger but the rejuvenated Persians rode high on their moment and held the Romans at bay.

Surrounded by his bodyguard mounted atop his steed, Antonius sent the order to deliver another decisive attack. Praetorians this time knew their attack wouldn’t be by surprise as they formed their charge formation. A rider sent by the Prefectus informed Tiberius to assume command of the legions. For the Prefectus’ commitment with the Praetorians wouldn’t be as short lived as their last assault. The men charged the right yet again. Antonius focused on the enemy and rode hard as he clashed into the enemy stabbing the first with his Pila. “Dismount!” Antonius shouted as took a drive. His horse took an arrow knocking, Antonius to the ground. Soon he was met by others, quick to his feet in seconds he was surrounded be his own men. Again, Antonius charged onward Spatha in hand and fighting in the thick of battle. Roars came from the fighting Praetorians as shouts of encouragement filled the air. Truly Rome’s finest showed once again why they are considered the best.

And yet the Persian Immortals continued to flow out against the Romans. It was, as per the reputation of the elite Persian corps of men, as if they had no ending. One man seemed to replace the other as they both pressed against each other in the bloody struggle. Antonius, finding himself in the midst of the battle, was subject to the same carnage that each and every legionary and Praetorian was… And being no different, and perhaps less elite, than the Praetorians, he threw himself into the midst of a bloody battle.

Immortals charged against the force of Praetorians and Antonius’s men, still fuelled by momentum. It was, as if facing their last stand, these Immortals threw themselves at the Praefectus and his men…

Not being foolish, the Immortals fought to get near the man in officer’s regalia. Three men managed to engage Antonius at one point, pushing themselves against his scutum as they slashed at his appendages and lashed out at his head. Unable to fully commit himself against the might of three different men, Antonius backed away slowly in an attempt to secure his safety amongst his men. As he did, a searing pain flowed throw the left side of his head as if struck by some bludgeon. The world around the Praetorian Prefect swayed lightly, and then seemed to slow around him. Acting on instinct, Antonius thrust his weapon into the throat of his attacker, pulling it out quickly to yield a stream of blood. The men fell to the blood soaked sand, his body being left to bake in the Eastern heat.

Pain coursed through Antonius’s body as he quickly stepped back, gritting his shield and attempting to deal with the other two attackers. Sweat dripped from his brow under his helmet, mingling with the blood that was steadily flowing from his wound. Antonius pushed against his enemy with a renewed fury, knocking him to the ground and preparing to take the plunge into his chest. The Immortal’s eyes shut, his body relaxed as he prepared for death. Of the rare sights a man sees in battle, that day Darius Antonius Terpus saw one of the rarest. His enemy had prepared himself for death in the few moments he had to live, and being obliged to assist him, Antonius dealt a swift blow to the throat. No groans of shrieking or groans of pain imminated from his victim, only the chilling sound of a man choking on blood and the sound of Antonius’s spatha being removed from his throat.

Taken aback by the sight of such a willing victim, who seemed to lack instinct or the bloodthirstiness of the thousands of men around him, and toiled by the pain that was coursing through his body, Antonius stood motionless for the shortest of times. His final assailant, taking advantage of the temporary weakness, plunged at the Praetorian Prefect’s back. Taking quick action, one of Antonius’ comrades struck at the man’s legs, his knees buckling as his spear made it’s way into Antonius’ back.

The Praetorian Prefect’s thoughts were sent crashing back to the battle at hand, the pain in his body now overwhelming him. Things became too much. The pain became nearly unbearable, and as two of his Praetorians immediately attended to their wounded commander and dragged him from the front lines, Antonius Terpus’s thoughts clouded into darkness, and the world around him faded away.

Shortly after the death of the brave but foolish Publius, aides arrived at the center of the line to provide Tiberius with reports from all along the line and his brave commanders actions. The reports came as expected that the line was holding but no leeway was being made. Whatever spare forces could be allocated were being transferred to them, but only arriving in small numbers. Both sides were tiring and at any moment something had to break these lines and it appeared the Praetorians would be that something which Tiberius was more than ready to take advantage of. When word reached Tiberius of Publius Vatrenus’ fate, Tiberius was obviously saddened by the news. “Ah that’s a damn shame, such a foolish way to go. We will all do well to learn from that lesson that anger serves no purpose, but a negative one. Cooler heads must always prevail.” The aides snickered at one another at the irony of the last comment about cooler heads. Tiberius then sent them back to their posts and then went back to the battle himself.

Tiberius pushed forward to the front of the line and took up position there as he hacked and slashed through the sea of Persians. Tiberius was only at the front of the line for a few moments when suddenly things around him started to get bad. The Persians has given their last push forward in response to their crumbling flank thanks to Terpus and his men, and as a result, this created a bit of a bulge in the center. Tiberius being right in the center of this bulge started to fight feverously for his life as all around Persians kept pouring into the bulge. It had all happened so suddenly and Tiberius was shocked but maintained his composure and proclaimed to his men around him “PUSH THEM BACK!” Tiberius yelled to his men as the Persians push forward started to slow. “That’s right boys; show these women that they can’t push us around. Their place is dead on the ground now within our lines! ADVANCE!”

With these words of encouragement from their beloved general the men of the center with all of their combined might started to push the Persians back in place. Tiberius himself was leading the push as he hacked and slashed away at the Immortals in his way. The Roman line pushed so hard in fact, that soon they had created a bulge of there own in the center of the Persians line, however this was starting to weaken and before Tiberius knew it he had more Persians around him again then he did Romans. With a Persians fighting to the right of him and to the left of him Tiberius had no choice but to continue fighting. As he plunged his sword into the chest of the Immortal his was fighting, another Immortal came up on his right him and took as slash at Tiberius’s head, missing only by a small margin and instead hit the solid metal of his helmet. This shocked Tiberius and sent him to the ground and just as the Immortal was about to follow up with a death stroke, another Roman legionary saved Tiberius by thrusting his sword through the back of the Immortal. Tiberius gave a small head nod to the Legionary and then quickly grabbed the closest sword near him and forced his way back to his feet.

When he got there he found that the bulge was almost gone and he was quickly running out of space to fight. So with a last ditch effort, Tiberius started to fight his way back to the Roman line and he almost got there when suddenly a Persian took a swing at him and landed a slice on his arm that left a deep cut. Tiberius fell back a bit and then rage over took him and he advanced on the Immortal with all his might. A high chop, a low chop, side, high, low Tiberius was fighting with true fury and the immortal was hard press to keep up. Finally it became too much for him and Tiberius was able to strike the sword right out from the hands of the immortal and take a clean shot straight to his chest.

Yet Tiberius wasn’t done, this was the first time he had been injured in battle and he did not like the taste of mortality. In his rage he struck down everyone around him and cut into the Persian formation. Suddenly he found himself out numbered and alone. His men knew it before Tiberius did and they pushed after him. Tiberius fought for his life and his survival but no matter how hard he tried or how many immortals he went after he just couldn’t fend them all off. Tiberius tripped over the dead body of an Immortal he already killed. He fell to the ground hard face first and quickly turned over and found himself seconds away from death when all of a sudden a spear came flying out of the sky and struck the threatening Persian. Soon after feet and red garments were pushing past the side of Tiberius’s eyes and he felt the harsh pain of someone kicking him as a Persian fell over him and crashed to the ground only to be stabbed by a rescuing Lucius Pullo.
“Come now sir, you’re a better use to me alive then dead.” Pullo smiled at Tiberius as he helped him to his feet and gave him his sword.

“Indeed Pullo.” He put his hand on Pullo’s shoulder and quietly thanked him. Tiberius then turned and saw the Persian center was falling thanks to the heroic efforts of his legions in their efforts to save their beloved commander. “PUSH FORWARD MEN, DON’T LET THESE WOMAN STAND IN YOUR WAY!” Tiberius shouted as the legionaries flooded past him through a now fully collapsed center.

After some time had passed in the center, Tiberius was now among his aides and he ordered certain cohorts to give chase. He also ordered the rest to remain in formation and advance. The day appeared won for the far right of the line.

----------
An hour later
----------


Florianus sat on a medium sized rock with his Spatha dug into the ground besides him. He placed his elbows against his knees as he looked down the highway at the dust clouds caused by the retreating Persian infantry and cavalry and pursing Romans. He had a legionary shield propped up against his side, incase cavalry archers returned but he highly doubted it at this point. Besides there were plenty of Romans on the far side of the Persian camp from all the various legions and auxiliary cohorts to fend of a counter attack.

As Florianus sat, a dust of clouds stormed towards him from inside the camp. As it drew closer it became obvious that it was ProPraetorian Legate Tiberius Varro and his bodyguards. As they came up on Florianus, Tiberius ordered a halt and the horses came to an abrupt stop just short of Florianus. Tiberius looked bloody and hurt. His arm had apparently been cut at some point in the battle and dripped blood from a field bandage. Yet Tiberius paid no mind to his injury and instead trotted up on Florianus and greeted him. "Salve General, I am pleased to see you here at the other end in one peace."

Florianus looked up at Proconsular Legate Tiberius Varro and his bodyguards. Pushing himself off the rock he stood up; his legs were tired although still a young man he wasn't twenty anymore. "Ave Propraetorian Legate of the Danuvius," He said, almost chuckling at the irony of how far from home Tiberius was. "Looks like we've had a victory."

Tiberius, in a show of respect, dismounted his horse and removed his helmet. "Indeed it does, what little doubt there was that these Persians would cower; was put to rest quickly. How went your encounter?" Tiberius asked eagerly in an attempt to find out news quickly.

"My cavalry is still in pursuit." Florianus said pointing far off into the distance, confident that both his bodyguards and legionary cavalry were safe under the command of Praefecous Equitum Aristocles Pamphilos and Praefectus Alae Lusius Servatius respectively. "The infantry did well though, we've captured several thousand Armenians, killed who knows how many." He stated.

Tiberius nodded his head "Impressive, I am sure the Armenians will not forget this day. I myself ran head on into a line of immortals. My boys put their name to the test to say the least. Even managed to capture a number of them. Still waiting on final numbers but I'm hearing it could be hundreds. Plus my Cavalry is out there as well." Tiberius smiled. "Though I suspect at this point they are enjoying themselves more than me, nothing can be more entertaining than a fleeing Persian, other than perhaps a fleeing German."

"Ah Roman cavalry, the Achilles heel of the Roman military!" Florianus quipped. "I think we both need to report to the army commander." He said signalling to a nearby Centurion to get him a horse.

"Indeed, that is where I was heading now myself. Any moment now I expect my final numbers to catch up to me." Tiberius put his helmet back on and then remounted his horse. "I do suspect when we arrive at the tent, we shall find nothing but smiles. It shall be a welcome change."

"Ah, the old Raeus smiling. We shall see." Florianus said mounting his Arabian. He stroked its mane; he'd come to appreciate the local horses in recent months, they were far more intelligence and spirited then the Hispanian horses of Equestris. "Lets go shall we?"
.
"Indeed," Tiberius gave a kick and a snap of the rains to his horse as it moved off in a medium pace with Florianus by his side. The two continued to talk as they moved through the end of camp towards their commander.


Calidus Raeus Vitellius appreciated the quiet for one moment. He closed his eyes and dropped his breathing. He could hear the wind sighing on the remaining tents. He could hear birds. For a moment, he could almost believe he was at peace. A sigh passed his lips.

‘Such a pleasant fantasy,’ he thought. There were other sounds – those of wounded and dying men, but they seemed worryingly commonplace, and were blurred out far more easily than those noises that he looked for. But it was the cries that made him strong. The passage of so many dying men to Hades made him feel alive; perhaps it was the closeness of the Gods in those moments as they stood besides the men.

He opened his eyes again, and found he was still amongst the Persian camp. All around was chaos and blood and death. Thousands had died here, for the fighting had grown horribly twisted and cruel. But his captains lived. His own son had survived the fighting. Alexandros had lived through once more, though the cavalry had suffered heavy losses in containing the Persian forces. Praetorian Prefect Terpus still lived, as did all the legates, though some were wounded. He noted to himself to give Pro-Praetorian Legate Varro a most severe caution about fighting in the front ranks as a commander. He was still a young man, but Raeus noted that he would speak with him alone this evening.

And now more problems presented themselves. The pursuit of the retreating Persians could continue for some time, but they had to open their way up to the supplies coming from the north. The Persians own supply train had been captured, which alleviated the supply problem somewhat. But thousands of prisoners had been taken, and the Roman commander knew he could not keep them all fed. Their would be a terrible cost in blood – more so even than men who had died today. He sighed again. ‘Such are the fates,’ Raeus thought, as he turned and walked away.

----------
That evening
----------


Legate Carus Florianus raised the cup of wine in salute to Zosimos Nikomachos. "To the Seleukid cavalry! The finest bloody cavalry in the east!" He said honestly as he drank down the liquid. He stopped drinking for a moment. "Oh and our victory over the Persians!"

"Yes today the Persians have paid for their arrogance. Now onward we shall go to crush the main Persian army south of here!" Zosmios said for the benefit of the Roman officers around him, aware that the eastern Seleukid lands were lost now.

Florianus sat down, he cursed himself for such merry behavior, his wife had been killed only a month ago and he'd lost hundreds of men in both the cavalry and infantry assaults. But still now was a time to celebrate, they'd finally crushed a Persian army. "To the men who aren't here with us! They have died well today!"

The surviving officers of Legio II Vitellia and the Seleukid noble Zosmios Nikomachos raised their cups and saluted the dead. A good victory had been won this day, but there was still much to be done and all the men gathered around the campfire that night were rightly aware of it.

Across the camp, a more somber affair was taking place in the command tent of Proconsular Legate Calidus Raeus Vitellius, where he and the Southern Armenian General Makayel sat with Prince Shapur for dinner. The mood was sombre, and no man spoke.

Raeus picked at his food. He had no desire to be here now, but appearances demanded it. He was a man of few words and often comfortable with silence, but the mood here was starched and almost hostile. No man enjoyed the taste of defeat.

Shapur opened his mouth to speak, not quite rallying the words for a few moments. He had been silent, lost in thought, with so much to say. There was so much he could say, and yet so little. He sat before one of the only men who had bested him on the field of battle, dining with the man, with so much he wished to say to the man… And as the words were about to come out, as an attempt to engage the Roman commander was made, two officers entered the tent.

It was a welcome relief when Maximus Appus and his Seleukid counterpart arrived bearing sealed dispatches. They bowed lowly, and requested a moment with the Proconsular Legate.


Maximus Appus nodded nervously and then spoke. “Yes, sire… We have just had word from a merchant travelling from the north. From Antiokheia.”

A numb feeling went along Raeus’ body. He knew what was coming, but it was strange. He felt no fear or grief or concern. Simply emptiness.

“Imperator Varro is dead, sir.”

--------------------
Scenario Results: The allied army has won a decisive victory over the Persian Army of Armenia, which was under the command of Shapbod Shapur. The Persian force is now scattered and has lost much tactical cohesion, forcing it from the theatre for now.

The Roman force has captured both Persian Prince Shapur, while the remaining cavalry and infantry that managed to retreat have been taken up under the command of the King of Persian Armenia, who fled with the cavalry during battle.

Seleucid King Alexandros has been gravely wounded during battle. It is expected that he will die.

Praetorian Prefect Darius Antonius Terpus has been injured in battle. He will make a full recovery after limited time confined to his tent under the care of physicians.

Tribune Cicero Drusus has been minorly injured, and will make a full recovery.

Propraetorian Legate Tiberius Varro has been minorly wounded, and will make a full recovery.

Romano-Seleucid Infantry casualties total around 6,200 dead.
Persian Infantry casualties total around 20,800 dead.

Near 10,000 Persian and Northern Armenian infantrymen have been taken prisoner, while the rest are assumed to have fled.

Allied Cavalry casualties amount to near 10,000. Most suffered after the removal of King Alexandros from the field.

Persian Cavalry casualties are estimated at 12,000, decimating most of the Peraisn Cavalry force. This number does not include horse archers.
Persian Horse Archers have suffered minimal casualties.

Imperator Septimus Varro has died of his wounds in battle.

Iustianopolis remains besieged by over 100,000 Persians under the command of King Sanatruces, estimated to be roughly double the force of Shapur’s army.
-------------------

Written by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Carus Florianus Julianus, Augustus Tiberius Varro, Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus, Sillius Ramirus Flavus, and Sol Invictus (GM)

Editted by: Sol Invictus and Calidus Raeus Vitellius


Fri, 16 May 2008 01:15:24 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11262 === One week ago ===

“How did your meeting with Tetricus go?” Oricus asked bluntly. He was Emperor Daia’s most trusted aide and secretary, and was thus afforded leeway with his tone that the others weren’t. Decius Daia looked at him as they walked from one room of the palace to another and waited a few moments before answering:

“It went fine, Oricus. He understands the situation well enough, and I’ve strongly suggested that he take his Proconsular term early.”

Oricus huffed. “If you say so, sir. I suppose the Consul would take this chance to dig deeper holes for us to lay in–“

“Don’t be so dramatic. We are careening unto disaster not seen in many years and I’ll be damned with anyone working for me goes crying like a child.” Decius stopped aside a pillar and, without thought locking his gaze on his secretary, rubbed his upper thigh; Exercise at the bathes a few days prior had stressed his muscles more than he hoped and still today caused him unrest.

“Your leg, eh.” Oricus said, recounting the initial injury quickly in his head.. He smacked his lips and chastised, “You aren’t a boy. You shouldn’t act like one.”

“Pluto eat you whole, you woman.” Decius shot back, resuming his course. “Did you get everything arranged for the transport of the treasury and my personal assets?”

“Yes yes, Sanius Piso was pleased you accepted his advice.” Oricus held his hands clasped behind him as he walked beside his Emperor. The cool winter breeze blew against them, keeping their skin taught and minds fresh as they walked. “The legion is under way as well, though honestly Decius they will be largely symbolic by the time the Vallites arrive- you know this.”

“Regardless, I can’t do this without at least an attempt at precaution. Half the Senate is already at sea, and the rest is either packing to go or against me.” Decius sighed. He knew what he did was right- Iovinianus Vallentinus was more of a threat alive than his armies were in his death. He would rather deal with an angry mob without a leader than a maniacal leader with an angry mob.

Oricus nodded, and as he opened the door of their destination, said, “I agree with you one hundred percent.”

=== Elsewhere in the city ===

Over the past few weeks the city of Rome had become abuzz with rumor, news and fear over what was coming. The lower classes were nervous about the loss of jobs and, those who could remember the Justian siege decades before, the horrors of even just a simple siege. The upper class, with the most to lose, had already split into three camps: Those who would gather their wealth and family to flee as soon as possible, those who would stay and benefit from near-government-less city and those who were either not afraid of or supported the coming Vallite Wolves.
While many of the populace were glad to see the leader of the north dead, just as many realized that Iovinianus Vallentinus was simply the first head of the proverbial Hydra, and now he that he was gone, many others had emerged and were now angry- and hungry for blood. The mood from all this over-thinking and rumor mongering was a sordid one. Slaves were distressed and began, in small numbers to flee from their homes altogether. The homes of Senators and other wealthy aristocrats who didn’t leave guard behind were being looted at night, and in some cases squatted in.

The favor of Emperor Actius Decius Daia was still rather high among the lower classes, and while the ruling elite still respected the office of Emperor and in effect whoever held it, they had more to lose- and were quick to leave the city in the Emperor’s hands. They felt that while it was Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius’s actions surrounding the unwanted hearing of the former Magister, that should have been the least of their worries. It was felt throughout the city by all that any descent by hostile legions on the city again would be not just a bad thing- it would be devastating.

“If only Divus Persicus were alive, he wouldn’t let the Wolves of Vallentinus come within a hundred miles of the city!” Some were overheard saying. Others too were wishing for the resurrection of Divus Pompeius, who had like his successor Divus Persicus diverted civil war. Temples all around the city, even to Divus Terpus, were bustling with offerings of prayer and sacrifice in hopes of salvation or defense- or both- from the looming threat of the Vallites.

Praefectus Urbanus Maximus Tiberius Agrippa, in an effort to curb what was obviously a growing problem during the slow but steady evacuation of the city, announced a curfew of an hour after dusk when all people had to be in their homes and their shops closed- enforced by both the Vigiles and the Cohortes Urbanae. The move was unpopular, but made life easier for the elite and the general functioning of the city.

It also caused more evacuations in the night- despite the patrols of the Urban Cohorts. Families with much to lose should the Wolves of Vallentinus plunder the city packed up their belongings and scurried out like rats, shamed in some cases at the thought of being caught. In most cases the Urban Cohorts would look the other direction- for a coin or two. Jewelers, textile merchants, and many other artisans with expensive wares were soon to follow their wealthy overlords out of the city. Most would head south to Campania, while others went straight through Ostia to the islands not far from the Imperial Capitol.

=== At the same time, Lugdunum, Gallia ===

“Brittanicus, hurry up.” Tetricus snapped. His brother was being slow to gather maps and Tetricus, being on edge already, hated to waste time. “Just toss them here damnit, you’re such a @!#$.”

“Get over yourself, Consul- oh i’m sorry, ‘Proconsul’.” Britannicus shot back, irritated. He was glad to see his elder brother of course, like the rest of the family in Gaul, but his attitude since arriving was bitter and sharp- not very familial. Britannicus tossed the rolled maps to Tetricus and then stepped across the document-laden floor carefully to reach his brothers side yet again.
“I’m sorry, really. It’s just... you know what it is. I did nothing wrong and while the city loved me for it, Daia shoved me out the door to take my proconsulship early AND,” Tetricus rattled on as he unrolled some maps of the region on his table, “with the Senate broken up I couldn’t get dear Telvitius as suffect Consul.”

Britannicus shrugged. He was cousin’s with the husband of Telvitius Claviticus’s daughter, and worked with him closely during his short term as Propraetor of Gaul; Tetricus’s arrival ended his short reign as governor. “He’ll survive. He was fretting over this whole Vallite-Daia situation anyway, so I’m sure he was please to hand things over to you. He was sure to point out that I Minerva wont budge though–“

“I know, I know, I know.” Tetricus cut in, scanning the maps. He stabbed a spot on a map with his right index finger and then looked to Britannicus. “The legion is here, near the midwest border of Alpes Graiae and Gallia Aquitania- just a few days right from here.”

Brittanicus shook his head and using his own finger pointed to a few more points in the opposite direction. “So what, our men have told you that the legions aren’t coming through the alpine passes, which means they took the road along the coast. They could come right through here, and besides, it’ll cost a pretty penny to make that @!#$-pile of a legion follow your command.”

“Whatever you say, oh educated one. They were once, in name, loyal to our father- just because most of the men are retired out doesn’t mean our name wont hold sway.” Tetricus had thought this over many times in his head, especially while under house arrest the few weeks before. He looked past his out the only window in the room to see the light of the day- dusk- and then returned his gaze. “If I go myself, and bring a hefty purse, I am confident I can get them to march south and cause trouble.”

=== Imperial Palace, Rome, the next night ===

“I received a letter from Tetricus announcing his arrival in Gaul- it’s dated one week ago, not surprisingly, and informing you that the legions of the north are not coming through the snow covered Alps as we originally thought- they are coming around from the west- a longer route, but one they can easily traverse during the cold of winter,” stated Oricus, holding a folded piece of parchment.

The candlelight illuminated just the faces of the Emperor, Oricus and Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus. Decius smiled in the quick, annoyed kind of way and took the letter from Oricus, scanning it over before placing it down on a side table. “He recommended cutting funding from the northern legions, which shouldn’t be a problem- I’ll issue the edict in the morning. I also plan to place a bounty on the head of Proconsular Legate Verus... hopefully that gets this soldiers thinking a little.”

“Perhaps,” mused Gaius Probus. “... or perhaps it will simply ignite their belie that you are weak, and their mission is more right than before. You- we- need more legions.”

“I’ve heard from Proconsular Legate Aelianus Julius Vitellius that he has secure the two Danube legions of Propraetorian Legate Augustus Tiberius Varro, who regrettably is off in the east, and is marching south with his two Germanian legions at this very moment.” Decius was proud to have at least some support from north, but even if Julius Vitellius arrived in time, he would be outnumbered. Decius’s tone was sullen, but more a twinge of hope. “By accounts of Tetricus, and the maps i’ve seen, they should be in Etruia in about two weeks time...”

Gaius shifted in his seat. He was uncomfortable with the whole thing and wasn’t even sure if he supported Emperor Daia as much as he let on. He rubbed his eyebrows as he thought, and then said, “I doubt the Consular legions will be much help, Imperator. The African legion hasn’t see any sort of combat in years, and the Hispanian one is... well.... just that: one.”

“I know that!” Decius shouted, suddenly. He rose from his chair and began to pace in front of a dim fescoe of Rufus Pompeius Varro above an unlit fireplace. He stopped after a moment and addressed Gaius. “I may have made a mistake, but damnit I’ll do my best to fix it.”

=== Two weeks Prior, Germania and Danube regions ===

Julius Vitellius sat on his horse, his thoughts running through his mind at a breakneck pace. He was on his way to Devona with orders from Lucius Verus to march south with Veneria Triumphalis and play a part in invading Rome and dethroning an Emperor. Julius had once met Actius Decius Daia and found the man to be largely harmless to the north. Iovinianus was dead, but it was an honorable death and though Julius disapproved of what he had heard about the trial, he had no doubts the man had gone a bit mad with power over the years.

Now it came down to his worst fears. He still remembered the last time legions had entered Rome, and he was not about to approve of it again. But what options did he have? His two legions against six; He wasn't entirely sure what to do about that. Then a thought occurred to him. His lips twisted into a wry smile as he rode: The Army of the Danube was still loyal to the emperor and to Rome.

In Devona, aides darted around his headquarters as Julius prepared his army to march. He was dictating letters and giving out orders at a breakneck speed. The Proconslar Legate sat behind his desk approving requisition orders and thinking of what he needed to do to make this march possible. Two legions and five auxilia were not easy or quiet when they began to move, but Julius hoped to at least get a few days before his old commander caught word of the new plan.


“Messenger," Julius roared over the hubbub, and soon a young man with parchment and ink stood before him. He dictated:

"Princeps Senatus Decius Daia,
I write to you with all urgency about the north. Lucius Verus has gathered an army and is preparing to march on Rome in an open rebellion. I would gather the army of Germania and hope to secure the support of the army of the Danube in order to meet Proconsular Legate Verus on the field before he reaches Rome. By my estimation he will attack Rome with five well trained imperial legions at his back, as well as a consular.

If I am able to secure the Army of the Danube I will face him with four legions, hopefully on a field that will favor me and, Mars willing, allow for victory. I have no doubts that you will feel vulnerable and have most likely called for support from close-by legions to defend Rome.

I know that you will not like to order this, but I request that you send any and all legions north to meet with me and help repulse the Army of the North before they ever get to the City. If you do not send any men to reinforce me I fear your only supporter in the north will be killed, along with the men from your loyal legions.

In the name of surprise against our enemies I hope that you will keep this message secret and try to keep the troop movements as quiet as possible. I hope in the end that when the Northern Army faces its former brothers-in-arms they will come to their senses.

Proconsular Legate Aelianus Julius Vitellius”

Julius waited while the scribe finished writing and sealed the letter with wax. Looking at the messenger he said, "Take this to the Emperor as fast as humanly possible- let no one else touch this letter. Take the fastest horse from the stables and enough money to buy whatever supplies you will need. Stop for nothing!"

When the young man nodded he turned his attention to other matters and let his man go do his duty and Julius continued his preparation. They would leave for Rhaetia Superior in the morning.

A week later, in Rhaetia Superior, Julius sat at the head of his marching column as he approached Castra Regina- base of the Danube army. He was followed by both his legions, all ready for the long march south from Rhaetia to Etruia in the effort- wether they could secure the Danube legions or not- to do what they could in defense of Rome.

Julius doubted that word had gotten very far ahead of him and assumed the legions would be surprised to see him. He had send word to the Legates of the legions the day before they marched, sent with speed, informing them of his attempt and estimated arrival. Within minutes of the city appearing before them on the horizon, the a detachment of I Gallicana began marching out to meet him.

Within the hour the two forces- the few from I Gallicana and a detachment from VI Fortuna Caram- were a mile apart. Julius ordered a halt for his men and then rode ahead with a small cavalry guard. As he approached the legions he saw disapproving faces glaring at him: The two Legates of I Gallicana and XVI Tiberia Hispania. These men did not want him to be here.

The two Legates and their hundred-strong cavalry detachment blocked Julius Vitellius from reaching the camp of their legions. Marcus Dio, Legate of I Gallicana, approached with his fellow legate Fortunus Vitellius and halted just paces in front of Julius.

A jolt of cold air cut through Julius just as he was about to address the two commanders. He frowned, "Gentlemen, please allow me to approach the legions, we must convince them to move if they're to stop Lucius Verus from invading Rome.”

Marcus grimaced and moved closer to Julius, yelling and pulling the reigns of his horse to stomp in place, "Why should we follow you? You failed to materialize against the Quadi. You didn't support Legate Varro as promised!”

Julius tried to calm the man, speaking soothingly and slowly. He had his reasons for being delinquent before, all justifiable. “This isn't about following me, this is about protecting the city of Rome. My record, barring the one misstep against the Quadi, speaks for itself. Bold moves and loyalty- Honor is heaped upon my legions during times like these."

Fortunus remained calm, a counterpoint to his fellow commander, "We are but two legions- word is the army of the Vallite Wolves has three times that. What the hell is your plan then?"

Marcus, though a bit reconciled by his colleagues demeanor, continued to yell, "Regardless of your plan- leaving the Danube defenseless would invite invasion from the barbarians across the river--"

"First of all, when you're combined with my army the numbers look much better, we're still outnumbered, but it's not a hopeless battle!” His temper finally snapped. Julius was frustrated; Did they not read his dispatch? Could they not see the importance of cutting the northern legions off from reaching Rome? “I've also sent a letter to the emperor asking for any legions he may have gathered to defend Rome to join our efforts. Also! Proconsular Legate Verus cannot attack Rome without dealing with us- and will have to turn to face us. That means that we can find a field that will give us maximum advantage before we do battle with him. As for a barbarian invasions, I doubt any would be foolish enough to invade Rome after how you dealt with the Quadi. They would know that only retribution would follow after we deal with Lucius Verus!"

There was a moment of silence while the men contemplated what Julius said, then Marcus rebutted in a strikingly calmer tone, "We dealt the Quadi a serious blow, sure, but what about the rest of the tribes? Others have yet to have the opportunity such as the one you're proposing, to invade--"

"Emperor Daia has already sent for our aide!” Fortunus roared over him. “We had planned to wait it out, and hold the border. If you can sway the legions themselves... Gods be damned, spilling Roman blood is a cursed act, then we will defend Rome with you."

Julius heaved a sigh of relief and nodded, understanding the seriousness of all he was about to do. "Then I will persuade the legions, these men swore to defend Rome, and now that oath is calling them."

Both Legates scowled, but nodded in agreement and stepped out of his way. Julius and his detachment, flanked by the legates on either side, road hard to reach the assembling Tribunes and ranking members of the Danube legions outside their camps. They had been anxious since the letter from Emperor Daia, and this visit from Proconsular Legate Vitellius wasn’t at all a surprise. Aelianus Julius Vitellius pulled his horse to a stop close to the assembled mass of legionaries and slowly walked his horse along them, and back the other way, as he spoke:

"ROMANS," Julius roared, allowing his voice to roll out over them, "We stand on the brink of civil war. With the death of Iovinianus the north has been driven to madness, and now Lucius Verus marches on Rome intending to kill Princeps Daia. We cannot allow this to happen. It is our sacred duty to protect Rome at all costs. I'm sure many of you can remember when the traitor Justius Julianus invaded Rome and killed so many. WE MUST NOT ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN AGAIN!"

Julius was working himself into a frenzy, memories of hiding while the city burned were flashing in his minds eye. No one would be allowed to suffer that fate while Julius lived, even if he had to face Lucius's army alone.

"During the Gothic War I led I Veneria Triumphalis and assembled a force to rescue Emperor Maximus Dio from the barbarians. Together we brought honor upon ourselves and ensured our place in history. Now history is repeating itself, and giving you the opportunity to show your honor, will you take it?!”

Julius saw some of the men nodding in agreement, but not enough to march with. He needed more, he needed to appeal to baser instincts.

"In my hand I hold a dispatch from Emperor Daia. It promises 500c to every legionary who takes part in killing or repulsing Lucius Verus and his army. I was promised 300,000c for leading this effort, but I pledge now that all of the reward money I receive will be distributed amongst yourselves! Additionally, your names will be spoken in Rome as heroes, who repulsed an invading army and stopped the biggest threat since Agrippa Marius Vitellius or Romulus Fortunus Julianus themselves- The barbarized wolves of Vallentinus!"

For a horrible moment there was silence, and Julius feared he had not moved the men. Finally, slowly, the legions began to muster their approval: Roars began undulating from the front, and they slowly moved back to the rear, loudly surprising their own Legates with their support. Julius had won them, and they would come with him south.

Two days later, outside Castra Regina, Proconsular Legate Julius Vitellius stood outside in the dewy morning air and watched his breath steam with each exhale. It was cold, but the snow cover was thin and the sky clear- he took it as a good sign of things to come. The camps had been broken down and the soldiers were formed for the march. Julius quit watching his breath and turned to Legate Fortunus Vitellius.

"Are the men ready to move out?”

Fortunus nodded, and then looked behind him as if to show Julius the field flooded with legionaries. "Yes, we're ready and waiting on your orders.”

"Good!” Julius shouted, smiling. He whistled sharply and within a moment a young boy rushed over his horse, which he mounted. “ Then we march immediately, and we don’t stop ‘till this is over!”

===Rome, present day, Imperial Palace ===

Emperor Actius Decius Daia sat at a table in a council room of the Imperial Palace. It was covered with papers and small items; He tapped his fingers upon the table with impatience as he scanned the disarray. His face appeared blank as if in a trance as his servants stood idly by waiting for him to continue his orders. A loud noise interrupted this focused thought and drew the attention of the thinned Emperor.
"Oricus," Decius said, forgetting he had sent his personal secretary away with his family, "Damnit, where is Oricus?"

A nearby servant instead hurried over and bowed, "How might I assist you Princeps?"


Decius, unflinched in his focus at the door, responded shortly, "What is the noise outsi--"

Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus, back for more, entered the room only shortly behind a messenger. He slowly walked over to stand in front of Emperor Daia, opposite him across the table. He stopped, drew himself up a bit more, and said "Princeps, this may be an impertinent question, but I’d like to ask if you’re planning on staying in Rome for the duration or if you will be leaving? And, how are the legions from the Danube progressing? I have not heard a thing from them. I am...concerned...that we still don't seem to have many legions in Italia yet - or at least, not that I am aware of. I realize that as Imperator that is your concern, but I ask for an update."

Decius, seemingly ignoring his Consul, shuffled a few papers around on the table as if searching for the document that answered that very question. He then looked up holding a random paper, "The Danube legions will be here shortly. Our Consular Legions are already getting in position and setting up fortifications North of Rome. What more can we expect in such a short amount of time? As for my plans to be in Rome or not will change as the situation requires. Do you have some reason to want me gone?"

"No - should I?" Gaius asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "But between Tetricus Vitellius scampering off and much of my fellow members of the curia deciding it would be an excellent time to take a vacation or visit those distance estates, I am just wondering who all is planning to actually remain in the City. I certainly have no reason to wish you done, but I would appreciate a message letting me know if you eventually happen to leave. But obviously that is your prerogative...for myself, I plan to remain."

Gaius continued, forgetting his manners. "I offer you my condolences on the death of you fellow Emperor, and trust that things are still going as well as can be expected in the east."

"I do plan to leave Rome," Decius said with his eyes glancing over yet another message. His tone was annoyed, or frustrated- but not inviting. As he threw the paper down in disgust he continued, "Unlike others, I plan to meet this mob head on. War in the East, unrest in the North, and discordant legions coming to the heart of the empire, my expectations of Rome's survival is very low right now. How can our empire stand when legions leave their posts? However, I will fight for Rome and Her people."

"I have called in many men to help bring peace," Decius said, now looking the Consul in the eyes, "What has been done to encourage people to remain in Rome? The scars of the Justian rebellion loom to heavily on the hearts of all Romans."

Gaius nodded and began to pace. “I hope that those men can help bring peace, but I have my doubts. Maybe the Gods rule otherwise! What has been done to encourage people to stay in Rome? Nothing, as far as I can see. But I hardly see why most would want to stay, when those who start a fire are free to escape the conflagration. And how would any but the well-connected be able to go anywhere else anyway?"

Decius understood the consul's reference, and retorted, "Every man has his part to play in this unfortunate action. Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius has not dodged the burden his actions have placed upon his shoulders."

“I indeed trust not, but he seems to have thus far. However, I take you at your word, and hope whatever burden he finds it not too late for the good of Rome - both the City and the entire Empire." Gaius frowned, and slowly said, "I certainly regret that I underestimated the level of hatred my co-Consul felt towards Vallentinus - I truly believed that he would be able to contain his personal vendetta for the good for Rome long enough to get us through the eastern crisis, and take full responsibility for not further preventing him from acting as he did. I just hope that he has not brought everything crashing down on us. And while I do not agree with any legion disobeying orders, let alone marching on Rome, I hardly see how open edicts to assassinate not only a commander but his entire FAMILY without trial is any better than the actions of Vallentinus!"

Gaius finally lost his composure, and his words as they each got louder lifted Emperor Daia to a similar level of frustration. "These men seek to weaken the empire and attack the very laws and traditions of Rome the Senate is based upon," Decius said, matching the voice of the consul, "And you want to pacify them with niceties and bribes. Rome will only continue to suffer so long as the men are not put upon their place."

Decius calmed down some what, continuing, "These men march on Rome. They played part in the execution of a Proconsular Legate. That Legate gave weapons to barbarians! If there was no question in their mind that the action was wrong, how many times worse is it to lead men, tainted with barbarisms, against Rome. Not a hundred times worse but a hundred times a hundred times. These barbarized Romans understand nothing but brute force and victory on the battlefield. Our only chance is to cut the head of their march off. It has worked with Rome's past foes and can work again now."

“So the answer to a barbarian threat is to act like barbarians?” Gaius asked sarcastically. He was continually irritated that his council wasn’t sought out, by his own co-Consul or otherwise, and now the empire was headed for civil war. "I thought Vallentinus was executed - excuse me, promised imprisonment, exile, and dishonor for himself and his family - for not following the traditions and customs of Rome. Can it work? Perhaps. Does it sink us down, closer to the level of barbarians? I think it does! I also think this action flirts with tyranny, no matter how well intended! However, do as you will. I have told you what I think of it - you know where I live. I don’t doubt that you have the best interests of Rome at heart, but I cannot agree with your methods. I pray that Iuppiter and all the gods will watch over us and grant wisdom to us all in the future - we shall all be needing it, I am afraid..."

“And Consul, how do barbarians act?!" Decius yelled. Gaius had turned for the door as soon as his words were uttered, infuriating Decius. Gaius stopped in place and turned slowly back to face his Emperor, a look no less annoyed plastered on his face. He listened closely.

"Have you seen one in the heat of anger?" Decius demanded, then paused as the Consul appeared about to answer. Decius continued before Gaius could speak. "Is the core of Roman society, when threatened, driven to barbarism? Our citizens riot and destroy property and loot. All actions of a barbarian. Perhaps our society is a honey coated ball of @!#$. The societal culture we revere is just a cover of our barbarian habits. However, I do not believe that. What I do believe is that Romans are superior to all others and should be treated as such. We have the capacity for greatness when we look past our own selfish desires. When a Roman turns against that which is Roman he turns on the state. To turn on the state is treason and must be dealt with as the situation requires. Proconsular legate Verus' own words and actions show his guilt. As he is not in imperial custody, we must take extraordinary means to execute punishment; and, in the meantime defend our Empire, our city, and our people. If you so sympathize with that man perhaps you too seek to undermine the core of our Roman society!"

“I did not address the man, but rather the rest of his family. As it is, I am not sure that I do agree with the edict against him, but that is not the point!” Gaius used a hand for emphasis, slicing it through the air. “I am willing to ignore that aspect, as I have not in your position, and it would seem to be within the range of tradition to punish him thus - or so it seems to me without consulting with legal experts. But to strike at his family the same way, to execute citizens, - is that Roman? Perhaps executions of military men, men who are citizens, without trial is a core value of Roman society? I must have missed that during my upbringing. Somehow I cannot say I feel like I missed all that much. I would certainly hope this is a freak... temporary need - so far, it seems as if being in custody or not being in custody has the same end result.”

"These actions sicken me as well, however, they must be done! Perhaps they benefit will not be seen now. Perhaps these actions while distasteful in our mouths now, will bring sweetness to Rome! A man will do anything if he only risks himself. However! If he risks the loss of his family and all that he has known, then he will not think twice but thrice about what he plans to do." Decius flopped down in exhaustion onto the chair he sat only moments ago, "Do not worry about these matters- I bear the weight of them solely on my shoulders. Go and see that the people have what is needed to stay safe and well."

Turning to leave again, Gaius spoke over his shoulder, "I shall, and I don’t envy you- nor your choices, Imperator.”


Written By: Ferus Juventas, Actius Decius Daia, Tacitus Gaius Probus, Aelianus Julius Vitellius and Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius

Edited By: Ferus Juventas
132 AD





Thu, 15 May 2008 14:31:13 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11260 Imperial Edict

Any soldier who abandons his post to march against the established Imperium of the Empire, which is vested in the Senate and People of Rome and their representatives, the most basic elements of our Traditions and Laws. By doing so, he has renounced his citizenship and placed upon himself the mark of the barbarian hordes outside Roman lands. Therefore, any man who disobeys Imperial Orders, in an attempt to do harm to those with higher imperium, will have renounced his citizenship. In so doing he shall not be afforded the rights or privileges of Roman citizenship.

In our current times, this very act is being displayed by the Northern Legions. Therefore, should the legions continue to follow their misguided and rebellious leader, they shall no longer be entitled to payment
through the Imperial Treasury. They, and their families, shall also assume the status of non citizens, forfeit any retirement pay, and all privilege and honor afforded a Roman Legionary.

Proconsular Legate Verus, due to his rebellious actions and disrespect for Roman Law and Tradition, shall henceforth be known as a traitor of the Roman Empire. His actions are of greed and lust for power. His cause will lead those who follow him to death and
destruction. Any man who encounters this man must know that he is a man who has denied his Roman heritage for personal glory. Therefore, any man responsible for the
direct death of Proconsular Legate Verus shall receive 300,000c as reward. Those men of his cohort shall receive 2000c. And the men of his legion shall receive 1000c. A bounty of 1000c is further placed upon any
member of his direct family. Evidence of the deed must be presented for any type of payment.

As per Roman Law, all assets of this traitor are to be seized by government officials at the earliest opportunity. Thu, 15 May 2008 02:51:56 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11257 Lucius Cassius Vitellius stood amongst a few sisters, nieces and nephews outside the burnt out facade of their former home. Ash still hung heavy in the air, and the stench that permeated the palace was still strong. The Palatium Quinus Vitellius had once been the rival palace of the Varro Estates, but had lost out to the competition weeks ago as riots overtook the city of Rome, fueled by anti-barbarian sentiment. Now the roof had collapsed in as the fire took its beams, and many of the walls were stained with soot. Cassius and his kin looked on in silence, solemn and thoughtful as hired help, surviving slaves and members of their family guard dug amongst the debris. None had much to say about it, all lost in thoughts of happier times amongst the palaces great walls. It had been their home for so many years, and now it was gone.

A nephew, Tacitus Phillipus, reached out and gripped his uncles’ right shoulder and let his hand rest there. Cassius kept his forlorn gaze on the cindered remains of his childhood home. “At least we were afforded lodging at cousin Raeus’ home. It isn’t entirely unfamiliar.”

Augustina, sister of Cassius and Aunt of Phillipus, said softly from behind, mostly directed to Phillipus. “First your father goes missing in Hispania, and now our home is destroyed...”

Cassius snorted, squeezing his arms across his chest a bit tighter. “It was your husband who started all of this, Augustina. You may love him, but it will be too soon before I see his face again.”

The other nieces and nephews; Vespa Accalia, Phillipus’s younger sister, Titus Arcadius and Titus Tullius, along with Cassius’s grandson Marcus Darius watched on as yet another round of bickering began between their elders. Being the youngest of the bulging clan of Tullii, they were the most affected by the death of the palace. Few of them, or their other cousins, had yet to establish themselves as independent members of the family and so were now, more than ever, reliant on their parents, aunts and uncles.

Augustina took a few steps forward and unwrapped her arms from her shawl, being sure not to look at her brother, instead focusing on a small, shattered statue lying amongst the debris. If her other brothers were here, Tacitus and Titus, she knew they would not be giving her the sort of treatment Cassius was. Imbuing her voice with as much strength as she could muster, she rebutted, trying to be hurtful in an attempt to hide her own pain. “He tried to do more than you did. Tacitus would cringe if he knew how much of a weak leader you were–“

“Weak? Weak?!” Cassius shot to his left and aimed his scorn directly at his sister, who’s eyes had not moved to greet his. Cassius huffed. “Your husband single handedly refuted you actions with the mob, Augie, and caused the utter destruction of your home! I am weak for trying to hold this family together with Tacitus gone? I am weak for trying to smooth things over with Emperor Daia to save the husband of your beloved cousin Quaestra? You continue to cater to his destructive habits and look where it has got us!”

“Uncle Cassius,” Accalia cut in, cautiously reaching out and pressing her smooth hand against his left upper arm. Cassius tilted his head toward her slightly, in recognition, but kept his angry gaze on his sister, who everyone could see was fighting back tears. “Leave her alone. She tried her best to appease the crowd, it was not her fault. It is not your fault either- it was senseless violence and we just need to fix it.”

“Or fix Daia...” fumed Titus Tullius, sat on a piece of rubble, staring off in the direction of the Imperial Palace.

Cassius wheeled around to face his nephew, his face still contorted with anger. “Never, never, NEVER utter words like that outside! Your father is fighting in the east and your uncle is lost or dead in the west, our home burnt to the ground and... I.. I...–“

“He is right, uncle,” Arcadius cut in sharply. Augustina turned, wiping her eyes, and watched. Arcadius continued after looking his brother in the eyes to show support. “Tetricus, Emperor Daia- they caused this. It is obvious to all who care to look.”

“I do not care.” Cassius stated firmly, though his mood was easing. In truth he knew what his nephews said was true. Actius Decius Daia and Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius, through a vast array of unthinkable actions had generated riots throughout the city and inadvertently started the pendulum of the northern armies. Cassius was not afraid of what was coming. He knew that whilst he had not been overtly helpful, he had done nothing to harm the late Magister or anger his armies. He repeatedly opened his home to the plebeian warlord with sincere love and open arms, and supported the marriage of his nephew Decius Cassius to a daughter of the Magisters’ as well.

His eldest sister, Daeia, was picking her way through the rubble alongside her eldest son, Horatius Polybius. She was more fortunate than most when the palace burned; her father-in-law, Helvius Terentius Polybius, had purchased the former palace home of the once esteemed Lupidius family, and Daeia lived there with her husband and their children. She felt the emotional loss however, and would do her part to help the family move forward.

Arcadius, frustrated with his uncles’ unwillingness to direct his anger where it was deserved, jogged up to help his cousin Horatius rummage through what was once the pantry. Oddly enough, the library of the house was the least damaged of the whole first floor. Its walls were scorched with large chunks of plaster missing, some dashed to pieces on the floor below. But if you rubbed away some of the soot, you could still see the fine frescoes that once adorned all of its walls. Cassius had inspected the library the day before and removed all salvageable documents, a fortune for which he had been praying in thanks for since.

In the south side of the library wall, there was a large hole. Anyone who looked close enough to see it was a hole that led ‘into’ the wall, making it thicker than the other walls. Cassius’s distant cousin, the former Procurator of Public Works Tacitus Germanus Disius, after inspecting the initial wreckage for him, determined that it was this extra thick wall that saved the library from the worst of the fire. Accalia wandered over with the help of a family guardsman toward the library. Cassius watched her closely, hoping she would not venture into the wall. He did not know the hole had not been covered; he knew it could not be closed now.

“Uncle Cassius!” She shouted, waving at him. The guardsman, seeing her learn what she should not, gave his employer a look of ‘Help? What should I do?’. Accalia was staring down into the wall, down a dark set of damp stairs. Cassius walked over as quickly and carefully as possible.

Cassius spoke briskly, taking his nieces elbow, perhaps a little too firmly. “Leave it be, Accalia. It is nothing. Nothing at all. Come over here, your aunt Daeia could use your help finding the rest of the shrine statues–“

“Sir!” shouted a guardsman from a few hundred paces to the right of Cassius.

Cassius turned and looked, pushing Accalia in the direction of Daeia, and then climbed along a thin trail through the stone and plaster mess toward the guard. “What is it?”

“Another body, sir, probably another slave.” The guard was down on one knee and as soon as Cassius was close enough he rolled the blackened corpse over to lay face up. It’s face was still recognizable despite the scorch wounds - it was another slave, but not one of Cassius’s own. He recognized it as one of Daeias’ males from her own home, and was instantly confused.

He rubbed behind his ear and then tilted his head toward where his sister was, not too far away, and shouted, “Daeia, Daeia! Come over here!”

She carefully picked her way through the rubble, and when she saw the face of the dead man below she gasped, covering her mouth with a hand and pinching her elbows into her sides for support. After a moment to think, and of Cassius looking to her for an explanation, she spoke quietly through her hand. The smell of the body was still strong. “I thought he had gone off somewhere, after you said all your household slaves were accounted for. Cassius… do not be angry, but I have been allowing him to see one of your women, the young hispanian girl who worked in your kitchen. He must have been here when the fire started...”

“Ugh!” Cassius bellowed. He was not angry, but he was annoyed. The fire had now cost three lives: This love-struck slave of his sisters’, his cousin Brutus Cassius Vitellius and his cousin’s son Cassius Maecius Vitellius. The death of his cousins hit him hard. Brutus Cassius was the eldest grandson of Tullius Quinus Vitellius, his son Maecius was married to an Agrippa woman with lifelong ties to the Imperial Dio family and both men were Senators of the Empire. The idea that rabble-rousers infuriated with the actions of their emperor had murdered two members of his own family caused Cassius great pain, and this third death- albeit just a slave male- sent him over the edge.

Cassius turned from the body and called across the ruins loudly. “EVERYONE! Load anything and everything salvageable into the carts! I want this done by the end of the day!”

The family and their retinue nodded in compliance, and Cassius turned back to head toward the street where his sister and the other watching family were still standing. He locked eyes with Augustina, who in a show of sisterly love gave him a sincere smile and a tilt of the head; it was something she did when she when feeling motherly, and caring. Cassius needed that now more than ever.

=== The Palatium Raeus Vitellius, later that day ===

The atrium of the palace hummed with activity. The Tullian Palace had long been a beating heart for the city – the family had so many political ties and was so active with both social and political activities that there were always petitioners and political dealings going on, to the extent that it had had been affectionately been known by some as the ‘second Curia.’

Cloelia Vitellius sighed warmly. She knew all this well enough – she had lived in the palace for close to fifteen years of her adult life. Her children had grown up there and she had made many friends there. To think it was gone in a moment of madness was beyond belief.

But, she felt some benefits to it. She loved having family close again. Since she had moved to Phoenicia three years before, she had felt isolated and alone. The war had forced her and much of the family home to Rome, but her own home often felt quite empty and cold. Not now, not anymore. She actually hoped they had enough beds for everyone.

The courtyard buzzed as slaves, guardsmen, refugees from the Tullian Palace and visitors all milled around. Carts bearing what could be salvaged the burned out shell of her former home had been brought in all morning, and added to the delightful chaos. A group of her own family’s guard, resplendent in their black tunics and high helms, worked with a detachment of the blue clad Tullian guard keeping a tight cordon across the entrance.

“My lady,” a slave approached carrying a large pail of water. “The water you requested.” The water was warmed, and smelt of rosemary. The lady of the house dipped her fingertips into the pail, and then washed her hands of the dust that today’s work had accumulated. The aroma re-invigorated Cloelia, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears, before answering.

“Place it down by the cypress, over there.” The girl nodded, and Cloelia stepped forward. She wiped her hands down the front of the dress she wore – it was a fine creation of dazzling white. She had risen well before dawn this morning to make sure she looked her absolute best before everyone. Whilst she now approached her middle age, she was still a beautiful woman to behold, and she sensed the eyes of many on her as she moved through the throng.

She glanced up just as Cassius Vitellius returned. His white toga was covered in soot and the hem frayed. He waved in another cart that the Tullian guardsmen brought back into the atrium to leave. ‘How much the events of the last few months have changed him,’ Cloelia thought. Cassius had long been the most relaxed and easy going of the three Tullian brothers – she loved them all dearly, but he had always been the quickest to mirth. But his brother’s uncertain fate and now this had made him grim, and taken much of his usual good humour. He did not see Cloelia amongst the throng, but disappeared inside before he got stuck into conversation with one of the gathered petitioners.

Nearby though, Augustina had also returned, and made her way to Cloelia through the crowd. The two women were close friends, and smiled warmly at each other.

“I’d kiss you, darling, but I’m covered in dirt.” Augustina spoke with as much levity as could be summoned.

“It is no problem, Augie,” Cloelia replied, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “Hold on, you’ve got a smudge here.” She rubbed her finger over a mark on Augustina’s cheek. “Much better! How did you fare today?”

Augustina sighed. “As well as can be expected. There is not much that is salvageable, but it is to be expected…” her voice tailed off.

Cloelia smiled sadly and took one of her hands. “A few days and you will be back on your feet in no time. They have just boiled some water so you can probably take a wash if you wish. Oh, and I have had some servants down in the town today – they have some more clothes for you. Some of them are dazzling!”

The overt show of enthusiasm brightened Augie’s face. “That sounds wonderful. Oh…” she brightened at a thought, and she dropped her voice in a conspiratory fashion. “Accalia found the staircase in the library.”

Cloelia leant in; neither woman was meant to know much of it. “Did she follow it down?”

“No, Cassius led her away before she could.” She laughed. “He probably thinks that’s the end of it…These men and their secret places.” She turned as a figure approached. “Speak of the young lady herself!”

Vespa Accalia approached the two Vitellii ladies. She asked keenly, “Were you speaking about me, Aunt Augie?”

“Just in passing, dearest,” Augie replied with a smile. “Well, I should go and get washed and leave you to the entertaining.”

She gave a wry grin and left Accalia with Cloelia, momentarily joined by the fourteen year old Decia Otholina and Cloelia’s own daughter Helena, who were becoming fast friends. Cloelia smiled as she resumed her duties round the home. The three young girls had been following her like shadows since the fire and she was very fond of them all.

A few petitioners demanded her attention, but her notice of them wavered constantly. She noticed her second son, Raeus Commodus Vitellius, a tall youth now approaching fifteen years old, disappearing away with some of the younger Tullians. ‘Probably up to some mischief’, she thought. Commodus had far more of her temperament about him than his older brother or father, a certain wild side that occasionally got the better of him. He should have been with his tutors or doing some management of the estate, but with all the disturbances it had proved impossible to get the children to concentrate.

Another visitor pushed through the throng towards her. Cloelia smiled warmly at the approaching Darius Maxitorus. The Senator had been one of the most regular visitors to the palace over the last years, being closely tied to her husband. He regularly took the time to come and visit the family and look in on their children, one of whom he would eventually take under his wing into the Senate. Of late, he had been a less frequent visitor – following his performance in the questioning of Magister Vallentinus, his stock had risen in the city, and he was quickly becoming a man of substance on his own.

“My lady,” he spoke in a sonorous voice. “It is good to see you again. You look as beautiful as always.”

Cloelia bowed and smiled at the compliment. “My thanks, Darius. It is always a pleasure to have you here.”

“Yes, though you seem a little busier than usual.” The Senator snorted slightly, and placed a hand on his chest to steady himself. “I shall not keep you too long then, I can see you are pressed. I come to inform you that I shall be departing in the next few days to winter on my family’s estates in Sardinia.”

“Of course,” she smiled. With the coming of the Northern army, she understood the Senator would not want to take any chances. “I trust you shall have a fine winter and return to your duties as soon as is permitted?”

Darius smiled slightly at the inference. “Of course. I hope to return to work post haste. I will make no secret of it before you, my lady, but I intend to stand for a Consulship in the coming years. I shall be most active, as always, in your husbands’ interests.”

“I appreciate that, my husband has long been appreciative of your service.”

“I am glad,” the Senator said, straightening. “I shall hopefully see you in the summer.” He bowed gravely, and turned to depart. Cloelia’s attention was quickly taken by another petitioner, and she disappeared into the crowd, followed by her entourage of young Vitelli girls.

=== That night in the Palatium Raeus Vitellius ===

“So where is Decius then?” Rufinus asked, sitting across from Lucius Cassius in front of the warmth of a lit fireplace. They were in a room just off the private office of Calidus Raeus Vitellius, where few were ever granted use without the General present. The walls contained frescoes depicting the battles of Palmyra and Iustianapolis, and the furniture was amongst the most opulent in the Palace – more for the waiting guests of the General’s audience than for normal family use. But the palace was so busy, Cassius had retreated here for a moments quiet. He had asked Senators Pontus Rufinus Accarus and Cassius Ispius to come by, mostly for company, but also to talk of the darkening future.

“He is taking the bodies of Vallentinus and Kaeso north to the legions,” Lucius Cassius said. He gazed into the fire, “Much to Augustina’s chagrin, I asked Emperor Daia to permit him to do so. I could not stand to look at him, let alone know he was nearby.”

Cassius Ispius, tired under the stresses of late, loudly clamped his right hand down on his knee and adjusted his posture. He looked to his host, “Sanius Piso has recommended the evacuation of the imperial treasury to Ostia to Daia, along with any personal assets, et cetera. I will be going as well, along with many other–“

“Myself as well,” Rufinus chimed in.

“–others who fear the wrath of the northern legions.” Cassius continued, unnerved by the interruption. He watched Lucius Cassius’ face and took note of the sinking eyebrows and frowning mouth. “I would encourage you to go too, but I will not pressure you. I am sure you feel your position with the Vallites is a good one - but the rest of us are not so lucky. I even hear rumor that your brother-n-law Marcus Polybius will be leaving.”

“Good.” Lucius Cassius said. “I can not be responsible for satellite members of this family who continue to speak contrary to myself. I love Marcus, and my sister, but he made his feelings clear during the hearing.”

“Nobody liked the Magister, Cassius, but that is hardly reason for the armies to–“

“It is more than enough, Rufinus.” Lucius Cassius stated firmly. He leant back in his seat and for moment just looked at his two closest friends with affection. “The Legates of Vallentinus were brainwashed to see him as a god, no question. We can only assume they wish to sack the city and exact retribution.”

“Obviously, that is not in question...” Cassius Ispius rephrased, “but regardless, will you leave the city?”

“No.”

Rufinus laughed and turned his head away, “For the first time ever, you are just like your father. Strength and defiance were never your suit, Cassius.”

“I had Tacitus to lead me, an older brother to defend and chastise me, to keep this family together. I had no need to be a replica of my father, and besides- it is too late.” Lucius Cassius said, slightly annoyed. “I am old, we are all old. I just don’t see a point to run from a city where I have already lost most of what I was. That house was it, damn it.”

“You are not afraid an angry barbarian will kill you?” Rufinus asked, looking at Cassius Ispius who nodded in support of the question.

“Of course I am! Come on,” Lucius Cassius smiled. He looked his friends and saw that they were just being that- friends- and he should not be annoyed with them. “I am no soldier. I do not have the discipline instilled like my brother Titus, or my nephew Rufus. I could not take my own life to avoid torture, and I do not see being killed as something to face with strength. If I thought I was in actual danger I would flee... That, now that is in my nature.”

Cassius Ispius nodded in understanding. “I think Rimilius is considering staying as well, as Delegatus Princips he probably feels a sense of duty to the empire or the city. I do not know. Our children and grandchildren are leaving - you should at the very least, Cassius, organize transport for the young of your family.”

“They can go with mine, Cassius. My nieces and nephews will be leaving before the ides, heading to Ostia for Sardinia.” Rufinus invited. “Your cousin the Prefect offered - I know he offered the same to you.”

“Indeed he did. Yes, they’ll all go. In fact I think my nieces and nephews that belong to Tacitus will just go to Hispania to be near their mother. They are still looking for him, and though I hold out hope, I...” Lucius Cassius shook his head, clearing the topic of his missing brother. “Anyway, yes. Everyone will likely go. I will stay with Augustina and see if we can not begin reconstruction on the palace.”

Cassius Ispius nodded. He, like all their colleagues in the Senate, had heard about the death of two of their own. It was tragic and infuriating to know that they were lost to a mob of unthinking commoners, rioting over what turned out to be nothing. “Everyone is extremely sorry for your loss, Cassius. Brutus Cassius was highly revered for his works along the Danube, and Maecius was extremely adept at working behind the scenes in getting everyone to cooperate. They will be missed.”

“Thank you Cassius, I know. Even Fabius Tertilus has extended his condolences. Brutus Cassius was old, and I am sure he is off in Elysium with Isadria. He was so broken up after her death...”

Rufinus rapped his fingers on the arm of the cushioned wooden chair in which he sat. He had been angry upon the news of the Senators’ deaths, pinning blame immediately on Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius for pushing for the consular hearing of Iovinianus Vallentinus in the first place, and then the surprise invasion of his closest friends’ home to arrest the man. He looked at Lucius Cassius without expression. “Something should be done.”

“And stoop to the level of those filthy street people? Rufinus, think about it.” Cassius Ispius stated, his tone surprised. “I can almost assure you that the legions coming will cry for the blood of not just Tetricus.”

Nearby, in the quiet darkness just outside the fire-lit studdy, the Listener stood with his ear pressed to the door. A red tattoo on his shoulder revealed his code, but he kept himself to the shadows. His cold, grey eyes revealed little at the news, but his mind worked over the permutations of all of this, taking note of who would be where as the men on the other side continued to talk. Once he was certain he had what he needed, he pulled his cloak-hood over his head, looked around swiftly, and disappeared into the gathering darkness from whence he had come.


Written By: Ferus Juventas and Calidus Raeus Vitellius

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

132 AD

Tue, 13 May 2008 20:53:19 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11255 -----------------------------
Syria, South of Apemeia, 131 AD
-----------------------------

All around the Roman general and Seleukid King was chaos as staff officers and captains went about their business. The drive north had brought the now united allied army within range of the Persian Army of Armenia. Iustianapolis was now besieged, so there was a large Persian army both north and south of their position. The options for the smaller western army grew thin. But at the center of this chaos, Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Basileus Alexandros seemed strangely calm, poring over a map of Syria.

It was Raeus who spoke first. “Quite a predicament, Basileus. With our combined forces, I am not sure Shapur will risk battle - he can almost wait for Sanatruces to come and close the jaws of the trap."

Alexandros chewed at the side of a dried date, shaking his head slowly, "It may take Sanatruces some time to actually overrun Iustianopolis. I'm not so sure if Shapur is patient enough to wait with no benefit towards him. My fear remains that he will simply... refuse direct battle. Deploy his own cavalry archers and the men to defend them, but nothing more.”

Raeus scratched at his chin. "In that case we need to find away to hold their infantry in place. But we need to catch them first." He glanced across. "How fresh are your men, and do you have some men who know the countryside?"

"As fresh as can be given the amount of marching they've been doing. And most of them know the countryside quite well," Alexandros paused, "I still doubt Shapur will deploy his infantry at all, however."

"I concur with that assessment. So we need to pin them in place.” Raeus placed his fist on the map and then traced his finger alongside them. “I am thinking of one force march, some of which may have to go in darkness. Get a large force alongside them and hold their infantry in place. It will be hard fighting, but meanwhile, we can hopefully bring the rest of our force from the south, and stretch and press through their horse archers. But you are the finer cavalry commander than I, what are your thoughts?"

Alexandros raised an eyebrow, "Assault the enemy infantry at their own camp?"

"Such an engagement could get messy and difficult to control, I grant. I suggest we deploy athwart them, make it difficult for them to withdraw at any great speed without leaving themselves open to assault."

"Perhaps you misunderstood what I mean, Strategos... I doubt Shapur will deploy his infantry at all. It would be of great surprise to me if he strayed away from harassment and actually put them into battle array on the field. I do not suggest he will not commit them once they are on the field. I am suggesting he shall not move one man who is not perched on a horse from his own camp."

Raeus sighed. "Well, we need to get in amongst his men anyway. Combined we have a larger cavalry force than he does. Mine are of dubious quality, but it may be enough. If we struck hard and fast enough, we should at least be able to drive them back, and give our infantry an opportunity to engage the main body of the army."

Alexandros sighed, throwing away his date to the ground, "I would find it far more likely if we were forced to... scatter his cavalry force, and push to where his infantry is encamped. Then slaughter them there, which may prove to be a bloody struggle but a possible necessity."

"Yes, it would be messy, protracted and costly." He shook his head. "But I see no other choice. Are you prepared to strike as the hammer blow to shatter their cavalry?"

"I should be... For our sakes I hope your cavalry is a bit superior to what I dealt with last time."

Raeus shook his head. "Little better. You have all the cavalry I have at my disposal. The legions own are of similar quality. Though we have the Equites with us now. Your infantry I presume are battle ready?"

"Yes, Strategos. They will be ready when they are called upon."

"I advise we strike at dawn. Give them as little time as possible to prepare. And may I suggest you strike from the east if you can. Minimise the aim of their bowmen."

With a slightly offended look upon his face, Alexandros stood, "And may I suggest you not get yourself killed, Strategos. It might present a predicament for the rest of your Trojans..."

Raeus smiled slightly despite the situation and looked sidelong at the Greek king. "Advice duly noted, Basileus. I shall see you in the afterlife."

-----------------------------

Raeus left the meeting deep in thought. His guards led him back through the camp. The legions were already mobilizing to move, but in amongst them, a clearing was made. In the center, ten legionnaires had been stripped to the waist and forced to kneel. Now, a large centurion was taking a lash to their backs. The men had gags forced into their mouths to prevent them biting their tongues off, and blood and ribbons of flesh hung from their back.

The Proconsular Legate stopped momentarily to look on the men. A few looked up at him, giving him a baleful look in between the lash. Raeus’ expression did not change, he looked fiercely on at the men, not showing any emotion.

The men had been caught stealing. The food situation in camp was growing bleak – cut off from the south by the Persians, getting supplies up the coast road was proving intermittent. Until they opened one of the roads to the north or south, the army would continue to go hungry.

Raeus scowled as he moved away. His supply lines had been as well prepared as they could be before the war. But the sheer numbers of men descending on Syria, both Persian and Roman, meant that all food was being stripped of Western Syria. Men had begun to raid farms to get food, but the allied commanders had set harsh punishments for any such looting. Money was being set aside now to purchase food where requisitioning was necessary. But some men continued with the raids. The Proconsular Legate sighed. This war felt different to the others, and he knew why. They fought for the very survival of the Roman east.

-----------------------------

Following the consilium with Proconsular Legate Vitellius and the other senior officers; Legate Carus Florianus Julianus stepped out of the Proconsular Legate's prinicipia and began the walk down to his own section of the armies marching camp. Thoughts for the following mornings battle were already racing through his head, from how deep he'd deploy his legion to the which tribune would be placed where along the line.

"Florianus!!!" A voice rung out from behind the Legate as he turned with an inquisitive look to find Pro Praetorian Legate Tiberius Varro who approached with a smile on his face and a question hidden behind his teeth. "Are you ready for the storm?" Tiberius asked as he took pace with Florianus and the two walked on.

Florianus pulled his sagum over his shoulders, three years in the east and he still was not used to the cold of its nights. "Storm? Yes, I fought the Persians south east of Iustianopolis in the early days of this war. I am ready for them once again." He said.

"Good, good. Have a lot of faith in your boys then. That's the kind of confidence I like to see. I myself expect to chop through these bastards like butter. " Tiberius laughed. "I wish you all the luck in the same efforts. If they need any examples of how it’s done just look to your right at the end where all the Persian blood is." Tiberius laughed again this time obviously in an attempt to goad Florianus on.

The older man smiled. "Ah you treat Persians like barbarians from the Danube, be wary for if they have time to form up, we will have fight on our hands. You'll want to engage them as quickly as possible. Your legions haven't been under this kind of missile fire before." Florianus replied.

"Indeed not, and let us be glad that they are not the barbarians of the Danube for if they were I’m afraid I might have missed the war." Tiberius joked about the now very peaceful Danube. "Oh speed might be important but I stress organization and unity just as much if not more. A united force is a victorious one. I have full confidence that my men from the Danube no matter where they are in the Empire, they are unsurpassed." Tiberius smiled with confidence again at his older counterpart.

"I just want to get this battle over with and relieve our besieged comrades in Iustianopolis." Florianus stated. It made his stomach turn having left so many brave men in that city to be invested by such a superior enemy force.
"If only our dear Emperor hadn't squandered three legions." He finished up realizing how dangerous those words were.

"I share your concerns, but I would be lying if I said that I was not excited to be here. My whole life has been building and this is a significant step in," Tiberius stopped as he realized his youthful ambition had gotten a hold of him. Soon he corrected himself ever so properly. "Of course I am just honored to be here and lead such a great fighting force." Tiberius wrapped up as he soon found himself feeling a bit embarrassed by his youthfulness. Eager to change the subject Tiberius broached a new topic. "Well, there shall be vengeance here today. Let it be known no matter what the determent and follies of a general’s actions, his fall shall always be avenged."

"There are only a few things I know to be absolute in this world. One is the Gods, the second is my own ability, and the third is Rome's ability to survive and seek justice. Today it just so happens that all of that is in our favor."

"I'm sure you'll have your vengeance, I will no doubt see you and your men on the other side of the camp by battles end." Florianus encouraged his fellow officer. "After all I speak for the cult of Minerva myself and I think she is telling me a victory is coming."

"This I have no doubt of. I will make sure to have the other side cleaned out and ready for your men to relax when they arrive." Tiberius joked with a hardy slap on the shoulder.

"Good, because my men are rather tired of being the armies Triarii," Florianus said. "Should be nice to let some of the younger lads do the fighting like the Hasati of old." He added with a slight bow in the direction of Tiberius.

"Ha, indeed Florianus, the VIII and XXVI are more than ready to take your place as the cornerstone of this army. I am so confident we will walk right over the Persians that I am willing to bet that I beat you to the other side first." Tiberius laughed to indicate this was not a serious bet but a friendly one. "That is with all due respect for your boys."

Florianus paused in thought; the gods punished such arrogance and to bet money would lead to misfortune, therefore it would have to be something small. "Hmm… what is something my men would enjoy? If we get to the other side first, when this war is over your legion can erect a
statue to mine in Tyre."

"Ha, oh Florianus, I wouldn't dare test my luck on such a wager yet. It’s bad luck to bet with anything in war. I had more of a friendly competition in mind rather than for it to be for anything. But if you would like the winning legion gets bragging rights."

The Legate of Legio II Vitellia chuckled now. "Alright then." Florianus said, he knew his men were determined, ardent even in carrying the field. They were a young legion and had plenty to prove.

"Alright then, first one to the other side." The two shook hands and departed into the night.

-----------------------------

Ramirus Flavus stood with his plume under his arm, issuing orders to centurions before him. He did not realize Legates Gaius Flavianus and Ciriacus Caelius were behind him until the centurions stood at attention. He turned around quickly and saluted halfway about, showing respect to the office the two men held.

“At ease Ramirus.” Gaius said, and then inquired, “Are the sentries deployed and the men bedded down for the night?”

Ramirus nodded, and said, “Yes sir, the men ate well enough and are off to sleep. They know they have a big day ahead of them tomorrow.”

“Good, I hear you kept the men’s spirits high on the forced march.” Gaius said with a smile, which held. “The talk of the legion is that you refused to ride a horse but took to marching with the men.”

“I did sir, I felt that if they had to march I would too.” Ramirus filled with pride having suffered the same hardships of his men, and it was not worthwhile to him to try and deny it. How would he lead, he often asked himself, if he did not know what he was leading?

“Do not get too close to the men and not be able to lead them.” Ciriacus interjected. The former First Tribune of the Praetorian Guard was always a cautious and reserved man when it came to allowing superiors to associate with those the owned. His years as commander of the most elite fighting unit in the empire would just as many in the legions to change his ways.

“Never, sir,” Ramirus adjusted. He knew how respected Legate Caelius was, and wouldn’t dream of upsetting him. “The men will follow my command and fight - or the least of their worries will be the Persians.”

Both Legates chuckled slightly. Gaius tipped an eyebrow for Ramirus and said, “Good Ramirus. Then tomorrow I want you in command of the first and third cohorts. Inform your centurions tonight they will be answering to you- since you seem to be so well acquainted with them. Once you issue your orders report to my command tent.”

Ramirus saluted once again, as did the centurions behind him as both Legates went on their rounds once again.

-----------------------------

Raeus Lucius Vitellius sat in his tent, perched on the edge of his cot. He felt his stomach tighten and knew the feeling well enough. A mix of fear, adrenaline and apprehension knotted his stomach as his mind ran through everything it would experience tomorrow.

He ran his hand over the blade of his sword. The smiths in the camp had brought the blade up to a razor sharp edge, and it glittered in the sparse torchlight. The hilt was embossed with his initials, a gift from his father upon his first commission with IV Fidelis. His armour was the same; a fine piece that now began to shine as the two slaves polished it to a finish. It depicted the manticore on its breastplate, above a sea of stars.

Lucius rose to his feet. He took a small goblet of wine and drained the contents to steady his nerves. He had been in battle before, but nothing on this scale. Small raids in Hispania and he witnessed the grueling winter campaign under Lucius Tacitus Vitellius. But to fight the other great kingdom of the world – this was something else entirely. He thought of his wife – his beautiful wife waiting in Hispania, and hoped he would live to see her again. He longed to feel her warmth against his skin once more. He sighed, and pulled his cloak on. He would visit his father tonight – it would be good to have his steadying presence again.

-----------------------------

Tribune Ramirus Flavus stepped across the threshold into his Legates tent. Gauis Flavianus stood behind his desk in thought. As Ramirus entered, Gauis turned to one side to reveal a cloaked figure, that of Proconsular Legate Calidus Raeus Vitellius. The legates’ mood was transformed from earlier in the evening. He grumbled, "I should attend to the men, then," and brushed past the tribune out of the Pomerium.

The Proconsular Legate fixed his gaze on the young Tribune. "Sillius Ramirus Flavus, at last we meet."

Ramirus nervously stood at attention. He had gone to some lengths to conceal his identity for fear of a moment such as this. "You called for me, sir." Ramirus eyes locked on Raeus and his head was flooded with thoughts.

Raeus strode behind the legates desk and glanced down at the dispatch upon it. "I was not even aware of your presence in this army for a long time, Tribune. It appears you have attempted to avoid attention in this army.” He paused and then looked hard at the officer. "Tell me why,"

"My father made quite a name for himself. He had many friends and many....enemies. If it was known who I was, given my fathers’ dislike for you, I would never have been given a posting here. I wish to make my own way in the world, I will honor my fathers memory, but not fight his battles."

"I held your father no great emnity, Ramirus. I know he did not feel the same, and held a great hatred for me." Raeus sighed as he turned to the Tribune once more. "But as you say, you are your own man. You need not hide from me, Ramirus. I bear you no ill will."

Ramirus stepped forward and extended his hand "You allowed my father to die with his honor intact, those are the signs of an honorable man. The house of Flavus bears no ill will towards you either"

The Proconsular Legate took his hand and nodded. "He kept his honour at the end. I am glad you know there was no pressure on my part for his death. He was strong in life - keep that strength but control the anger, for it can destroy a man. I have seen it happen to too many men now.”

Ramirus nodded his head then stepped back at attention " Don’t worry sir there are enough Persians to let loose my anger upon."

Raeus kept his expression firm. "Good. Well, I must make preparations for the battle. Good luck tomorrow, Tribune. I shall pray for you."

"And I for you, sir," Ramirus stood at attention as he had been taught since he was a child and saluted his commander.

Raeus saluted, and without another word, pressed his way out of the tent into the darkness. The night sky burned with stars as he emerged, dazzlingly bright in their number and multitude. ‘The gods are walking amongst the men tonight,’ Raeus thought. Tonight, they would disguise themselves as common soldiers and go to the fires around the camp, and smile as they listened to the fanciful stories of the men. And they would weep for the fates of those they knew were doomed to die tomorrow. He mumbled a prayer, and hoped the gods did not yet weep for him.

-----------------------------

Maximus Appus sat at his desk scribbling dispatches into the night. Torches sputtered in Raeus Vitellius’ pomerium, providing some warmth and enough light for him to continue his work. The experienced chief of staff was now back to work, though his side still pained him; evidence of a wound he received in the last Persian engagement.

The staff officer looked up briefly and sighed. He knew he was no soldier. His frame was weak and spindly, and his manner pedantic, and he was meek. His father had secured him a commission into the army since the prospects for his youngest son seemed to be dwindling on the families’ small estates. Appus had never fitted in with the men – he could not drink, and his sexual tastes had always been the other way. But the young man did have a gift, a capacity for organisational, administrative, methodical work that was far beyond almost any man he knew. No matter the time of day or night, Maximus was able to recall virtually instantly the last location of any legion nearby, its supply condition, and its Legate and senior Tribune. It was an ability that, whilst serving in XI Heraclea, had come to Raeus’ attention. Now, fifteen years on, he was still here, organising correspondence and preparing lines of march. He was unhappy, but had never had the courage to say it. His commander rarely spoke with him – he was a good, honest master, but a man of few words. And now he was more isolated from the men than ever.

He glanced up across the pomerium, where the commanders’ son, Raeus Lucius Vitellius, awaited his fathers’ return. Maximus’ eyes were drawn to him; he very closely resembled his father in his youth. His hair was jet black, his physique lean but powerful and his face, whilst not handsome, had a certain charm about it. He had an easier manner than his father however, and he looked longingly as the young man spoke at ease with the guards in the chamber. None even seemed to notice Maximus.

Hadrius Cinna, the Proconsular Legate’s chief bodyguard, emerged into the pomerium, followed by a tall, grey haired man who Maximus recognised at once. Decius Castinus, the Legate of the XV Gemina Fulminata, strode into the tent. He was the generals’ oldest friend and comrade, a great bull of a man of relatively humble origins. The XV Gemina Fulminata, with the XXVI Confringatrix had arrived earlier that day; force-marched from Tyre in time to help force battle.

The old legate spoke loudly, the voice of a former centurion, with all the authority to match. “So Hadrius, what happened to your eye?”

Cinna looked downwards and rubbed his stubbled chin. “I lost it in Gothia, legate.” He muttered in his gravely voice.

“Lost? That was a bit careless, wasn’t it?” Decius laughed heartily. He turned towards Lucius. “My god, Lucius Vitellius?” Lucius smiled and stepped forwards to shake the legates hand. “When I last saw you, you were barely up to my belt. You look just like your father.”

Lucius smiled. “It is good to see you again, Legate Castinus. I have been told I look like my father.”

“That is no bad thing, young boy. Back in his day, your father was a fine young officer. My men still love him to this day. And he was also one of the finest swordsmen I have ever had the privilege of watching.” The Legate was already helping himself to a goblet of wine from a nearby desk.

“So I hear. Quite a reputation to bear. Here’s hoping it survives the war.”

Decius drained the goblet and wiped his sleeve over his mouth. “Oh, it will, do not worry. There’s no better man I’d trust our fate to.”

“Of course,” Lucius said, sinking into a chair across the pomerium. “I never realised when I was young though – he is not really like other soldiers or officers.”

The old legate smiled. “Definitely not. I have known few men with such a dislike for war, and even fewer with such a talent for it.” He leaned closer, whispering with a grin on his face. “I can tell you a few stories of his youth though. He was not always as reserved as you’ll have seen him.” And so he began to tell his tale, though he was interrupted a few moments later when the Proconsular Legate stepped back inside the pomerium. Decius rose quickly to meet him.

“Raeus!” he boomed. “It is good to see you again, old friend. I am sorry we are late – we haven’t missed the war have we?” he asked, with a smile across his face.

Raeus smiled. “It is good to see you too, Decius. You and your men are most welcome.” He beckoned his son over. “You remember Lucius, my son, I presume?”

The legate nodded. “I do, we were just talking. Unfortunately for him, he looks just like you did at his age. I was telling him about when you first came and joined us in Moesia.”

Lucius’ eyebrows rose. “You never mentioned any of these stories to us, father? Does mother know about all this?”

“Another time, I am sure.” Raeus smiled slightly as he sat down behind his desk. “So Decius, how are the men?”

“Fat and bored of garrisoning some shitheap province in the north. A few of the old veterans are still with us – Maecius is now First Spear.”

“Maecius? I remember him being a very quiet centurion?”

Decius snorted. “Twenty years ago, my friend. Twenty years ago I was handsome and good looking.”

“Has it really been twenty years?” Raeus sighed. “I do not know where the time goes.”

Decius slumped into a seat opposite the desk. “Nor do I. I think this will be my last campaign. I fancy growing fat in the Senate after this. Oh, you may be interested in this. Whilst we were in the North, Vallentinus gave us his wolf badges to wear.”

“Truly?” Raeus raised an eyebrow. “It would seem there is no end to his ambition. How did the men take it?”

“Oh, do not worry, general. They are still your men. We bore them, but on the way over here, most of them have been removed. We are a Roman legion – the best in fact – and we are of Rome. Not his personal property.”

Raeus nodded. “Good to hear, general.” He turned to Lucius. “Are you all ready for tomorrow’s fight? It may get difficult out there.”

Lucius sighed slightly, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “I am ready father. I have been in battle before, remember.” Though only twenty years old, the young Vitellii had been in the military for three years, and was already a respected officer amongst his men.

“Good, well I do not want any foolhardy heroics tomorrow. Keep amongst the men, and do not dive into the fray readily.” Raeus looked sternly at his son.

Lucius kept his gaze firm. “I will do what my men require of me, father.”

Maximus Appus rose from his desk and took the opportunity to interrupt. “The letters for Pergamum, Aegyptus and the Aegean League are ready, sir.” The chief of staff placed the three letters and a pot of ink on his commanders’ desk. “A fresh supply train made it through this afternoon as well. The situation is still tight though – unless we can break through to Antiokheia, we face a rather grim situation.”

Decius’ head rose. “Stretched supply lines, Raeus?”

“Indeed.” Raeus nodded. “The presence of so many men in such a small area is stretching it to breaking point. There will be less mouths to feed tomorrow, I fear.” The old soldiers did not even respond to the morbid humour, and Raeus turned his attention to the letters.

“Writing to the client kingdoms?” Decius’ nodded towards the dispatches. “You are not Prefectus anymore, Raeus…”

Raeus shook his head. “No, but with Imperator Varro gone, I feel we need a united command out east.” His voice was distracted, as he continued to read the letters. “But the forces they could provide will be valuable to us here, either in the war or in the aftermath.”

“Do you think this war will be over shortly?”

The Proconsular Legate put down the dispatch and sighed. “Perhaps.”

His old comrade smiled sadly – both men recognised the lie. The night slipped away and the men slept. And the gods wept for them.

------------------------
Written by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Carus Florianus Julianus, Augustus Tiberius Varro and Sillius Ramirus Flavus.
With input from: Sol Invictus
Edited by: Sol Invictus, Calidus Raeus Vitellius, (Minor) Jupiter Optimus Maximus

AD 131
Mon, 12 May 2008 04:41:58 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11250 A representative of the Princeps took his place on the rostra and without hesitation read allowed an edict just issued, that was also sent to the capitol towns of the northern provinces, and each regional capitol of the Senatorial regions.

"Roman Citizens and Subjects,

Recent questioning has revealed the nature of Magister Militum Vallentinus' actions in the Northern Provinces. These actions, while believed by the Magister to be within his imperium, required Senatorial or Imperial oversight due to their nature. The most obvious example is the trial and execution of a treasonous Proconsular legate. So that it is frankly clear to all, it is the duty of every Roman citizen to apprehend individuals involved in treasonous activities; however, it is the duty of the Senate and People of Rome, either through an emperor or both Consuls, to question, judge, and penalize traitors for their deeds. Once Magister Vallentinus was determined guilty of his actions he was given the opportunity, because of his elustrious career, to select his punishment.

Therefore my friends, it is with a heavy heart that I, Princeps Senatus Actius Decius Daia, announce the decision of Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus. Rather than take the status of traitor and face the exile of himself and family, Magister Vallentinus chose to maintain his citizen status and take an honorable death as a Roman soldier. He fell upon his sword with dignity and respect. He sacrificed his own life so that his family may maintain theirs as Roman citizens.

Despite his prior actions, Vallentinus chose honor over self interest, let us do the same by looking to bring Our Empire into a greater era. Let us look past our self centered interests and preserve the ideals Magister Vallentinus chose to uphold at the last prior to passing on to Elysium where, in the arms of his wife, I am sure Juno is providing him favors. Because of his honorable end, the body of Vallentinus shall be escorted North for burial by his family and clients. He shall be treated as the war hero he was and all record of his less admirable actions shall be stricken from record. Should others seek to avenge His decision, they shall bear blame for blemishing the name of Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus and placing it in the same gens as that of the Vibius Varro and Justius Julianus.

Let us move forward rather than produce strife.

Actius Decius Daia
Princeps Senatus"
Sun, 11 May 2008 16:10:47 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11248 *This scenario takes place immediately after ‘Riots in Rome’, the same day*

Iovinianus's hands clenched into fists when he heard the words coming from Princeps Daia. It was all a setup in his mind. ‘Surely the entire Consilium in Rome was in on it,’ he thought to himself, ‘they had to be- how else could such a weak emperor act so bold without support?’ Iovinianus, holding back his rage as much as he could, caught the eyes of the Princeps; his face may not have been smiling but he was inside, he could tell. He also saw something else, what he thought was the answer to the Princep's own question he had just posed. So with careful wording and careful control over his emotions, Iovinianus stood and with a cold, low tone replied:

"I would give you an answer Princeps, but I can see plainly now that you've already made the decision for me." he paused, "Haven't you?"

Praetorians came over and took hold of the Magister's arms to which he violently ripped it from their grasp commenting in a harsh tone, "Do not touch me!"

His gestures indicated he would go along, peaceably, but the Praetorians hovered like moths to a flame. He would not be remembered as some wild dog, even with death staring him in the face- he was not going to give them the pleasure to recant in later histories his inability to accept something that did not go his way.

Again he glared at the Princeps and gave a wry grin, chuckling ever so slightly before speaking. "I genuinely hope you are prepared Princeps, because you are about to have the honor of being the Emperor who allowed Rome to descend into the inner reaches of Pluto's domain."

He now slowly walked backward with the Praetorians toward the door adding as the Princeps and the rest of the Consilium stared on, "Once news reaches of my execution, my army will exact severe retribution."

Now at the door and about to leave, he smiled a very wicked grin commenting in a calm tone, "An army of monsters will come here and kill every," he began to point at each member of the Consilium, "last... one... of... you. And for you," he pointed at the Princeps, "you'll wish you'd never been born."

The wild eyes and sinister grin faded into the shadow of the hall outside the meeting room, and soon enough Iovinianus was led by the Praetorians out of the palace. Once out of sight from the rest of the leading men in Rome, they clamped hard on the Magisters arms and defied his pressure for a ‘free walk’ to the Castra. They hate him, and this was the first of what they hoped were the many pleasures of hosting the Magister as their ‘guest’.

Outside the Imperial Palace, an angry mob had assembled nearly one thousand strong. They were bathed in the dimming sunlight of the fall afternoon and hurled garbage and obscenities at the palace- and the numerous guards keeping them from the palace steps. Shouts of ‘Bring out the Barbarian King!’ and ‘Roman Superiority!” echoed against the marble walls of the palace, whose impressive architecture housed the final moments of the private Consilium Principis meeting that followed the Consular hearing of the Magister.

Only a few hours had passed since the Consular hearing, but in that time the city had erupted into an almost uncontrollable state of unrest, fueled by the immediate arrest of Consul Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius and the numerous rumors that the Senate and Princeps supported Iovinianus Vallentinus- a confessed Goth lover- over that of their own pure blood. The unrest had splintered into numerous riots, consuming street after street and becoming focused on places such as the Palatium Quinus Vitellius, the home of Consul Tetricus Vitellius and the Imperial Palace. The Urban Cohorts did the best they could, but it was still early.

Just under an hour after the mob had swarmed against the Praetorians guarding the Imperial Palace, the massive doors to the home of the Empire’s head swung open loudly, causing the crowd to hush suddenly in anticipation. Immediately out poured a group of Praetorians pushing- or pulling- a bound and angry looking man. He looked out onto the mob below him and glared fiercely as he was drug through the crowd being forcibly separated by the other Praetorians. Seconds later the shouts began, “It’s Vallentinus! Kill him!”

Once the captive was known, the crowd again resumed it’s fervor and tried to rush the Praetorian wall that separated them as Vallentinus was brought through. The hundreds of guards kept the crowd at a safe distance, but not without causing harm; The crowd had begun to attack the Praetorians in their thirst for the Magister’s blood, and instead saw their own spilt to the floor.

=== Meanwhile, inside the Imperial Palace ===

Princeps Daia, clearly uneased by his sudden show of fortitude and strength, excused himself from the rest of the Consilium to be alone. He, followed by his personal secretary who was waiting in the wings, hurried off to another room where he could be alone and dictate letters. His secretary was prepared- as he always was- and quickly produced flatten sheets of papyrus and a writing stylus, inked and ready to go. Decius sighed and rubbed his right ear, and then said:

“The first should be to the Legate of the African Consular legion, “ He said, dictating the letter briskly. It was a simple note, but significant in it’s contents. After a moment watching his servant wrap and seal the African letter, he said, “And this one to the Hispanian Consular legion...”

A few minutes later the Princeps had dictated letters to those forces under his control that he assumed he would need the aide of very soon. He wasn’t exactly sure when or what would happen, but ‘Thanks to Tetricus...’, he thought to himself, ‘I am going to need all the help I can get.’
After a moments contemplation, Decius nabbed a piece of papyrus and scribbled a name on it, handing it to his secretary. “After you hand those letters to the couriers, I want you to fetch me this man. I want him here as soon as possible. The riots outside mean trouble, and i’ll need all the extra enforcement at the castra I can muster.”

=== Back in the Concilium Principis meeting, Imperial Palace ===

=== At the same time, Palatium Quinus Vitellius ===

After the fight with Decius and the unforgiving glance from his sister Augustina, Cassius Vitellius hastily threw on his cloak and informed his two nephews hiding in the wings that he was going out to find the Princeps, and that if he didn’t return they were to write their uncle Tacitus in Hispania. They nodded in compliance of course, and then wondered why he disappeared into the kitchen, failing to reappear after a few minutes.

All the while, the angry mob of anti-barbarian citizens was still outside the palace. The street brawl had only lasted a few moments and the family guard was again just keeping the mob from gaining entrance to the palace. Inside, Faestia Augustina had taken enough fear and anger filtering through the walls and decided to take action.

She left her bewildered and infuriated husband and ran about ordering the slaves to follow her and do exactly as she ordered: They obtained two barrels of ice, five amphorae of wine and enough grain to cause four fully grown men to stumble as they walked. With that order of goods in tow, Augustina ordered the guard at the front entrance to open up and let and the walking banquet through- she was going to try and repeat history.

At the gates of the palace the eighty-strong group of family guards pulsated with the throbbing mass of angry citizens before them. Augustina gasped at their loud and visible anger, but swallowed her effeminate nature and forced her way outside, followed by the gift-bearing slaves. She was noticed immediately: Her gilded attire and tall, slender physique caused the crowd to quiet a few decibels and wonder vocally what a lady of the house would be doing before them- especially when they wanted her blood.

“I don’t know what you want from us,” She shouted. Her demure voice cracked as she strained to holler, and she continued. “We have done nothing to you! We have always championed your cause, to see you represented within the senate walls and fed when there was no food!”

The crowd began shouting loudly again, and oddly stopped fighting to break through the guards surrounding Augustina and the palace entrance. “We don’t want barbarian grain!” Some shouted.

Augustina lifted her hands and shook her head, “I offer you Roman grain, from the womb of Ceres herself, by the wisdom and strength of Jupiter! I am no barbarian, and neither are the members of my family! We are Romans in blood, and so these offerings,” she lowered her hands and motioned for the slaves to file around her up to the backside of the guards, “are to you as a reminder of how we care for Romans before all!”

=== Castra Praetoria, thirty minutes later ===

Iovinianus Vallentinus was grumbling and cursing the city of Rome under his breath as he was thrust into a damp cell at the furthest end of the castra. The clanking of the iron hinged door and the locking of the lock did nothing to hinder his rants. The Praetorians left without comment, leaving just eight at the door to guard the most powerful prisoner the castra had seen in decades with orders from the Princeps to ignore him no matter what he uttered. They did just that, but it wasn’t easy. There were many angry and huffy looks between each other to keep from screaming at the Magister in return- who always knew just how to push a man’s buttons.

Elsewhere in the castra, the rest of Vallentinus’ guard that had accompanied him to Rome for the Consular hearing were being separated and taken one by one to another area. They too were frustrated with their conditions; Crammed first into a damp room together and fed nothing but crusted bread and slimy water and now being strangely yanked from their comrades and taken to, for the rest, an unknown location.

Each man, when grabbed from the group by a handful of Praetorians, was told for the rest of the group to hear that they were going for more questioning- a thin veil of a lie at best, but it was all the Gothic guard were told. One by one the men were taken to a cell just around and further back from the room the rest of the guard were in, and there they were questioned to death with quick slash of a sicarius to the neck. As each body lay there to bleed out, two guards drug the swiftly cooling corpse to an adjacent room where the bodies were piling up, while the other Praetorians returned to the Gothic group for yet another man to question.

=== Palatine Forum, at the same time ===

Consul Tacitus Gaius Probus, having exited the Imperial Palace and made it through the angry mob outside it succesfully, was surprised and dismayed by the scene before him in the forum. He had only heard of the riots the moment the Consilium Principis meeting was over, but had no idea it stretched across the whole city; the scene in the forum prompted him to speak, to see if he could in any way instil reason. He mounted the rostra, arms raised:

"People of Rome! What is going on? The Saturnalia is not until next month!” The people closest laughed a little, and further out into the throbbing mass heads slowly began to turn. After a moment of waiting for attention, which only a fraction began to pay, Gaius continued.

"Or are you trying to figure out a way of telling the Senate something? Normally, I would prefer to get a letter or have a man come by and petition in person, but I suppose I could listen now since I am already here and pass on your message. Or perhaps you just want to remind us how robust our Roman men can be?! Not to mention some of our women!"


A few more people laughed, and more people turned to hear the Consul’s words, but most were still angry and his words did nothing to help that. They shouted to him in shouts and hisses: "You supported that northern monster, but not your co-consul! Barbarian lover! We voted for you!" amongst other obscenities. Gaius felt insulted, and for a moment felt like retreating from the great anger before him, but he stayed. He was Consul, and being so required emotional fortitude.

"I assume you must mean Vallentinus - I have certainly worked with him, but have worked with most men in Rome, including my fellow consul! I admit that I vetoed his first attempt to drag Vallentinus back here, but did I not allow him to resummon him back again when it turned out he still felt so strongly about it months later? While the Princeps and his council have deemed it necessary to keep Tetricus Vitellius under short-term house arrest, let me point out that this is the only thing that is being done to him!”

The crowd roared in disapproval, and some from the sides began throwing things, but the ever present Urban Cohorts continued to work at suppressing the most dangerous of the crowd. Gaius glared a little. "The man that you so hate, Vallentinus, will soon be punished in a way that even his worst enemies would surely approve of! I have just left a meeting where Priceps Daia has forced Vallentinus to take a choice that is no choice at all - either jail, then exile and full disgrace for him and his family forever, or death! I cannot imagine he would not pick death first.”

An odd man out in the crowd, thinking- or hoping- the Magister would be as strong in death as he showed himself to be in life, shouted, “I would be very surprised if the Magister Militum is alive by this time tomorrow!”

"Both Vallentinus and Tetricus are have violated our customs and traditions, but in different ways, and are being punished for it” Gaius shouted, stretching onto his toes to project his voice better. “Let me be clear - My fellow consul is not under arrest for opposing Vallentinus, but for doing in such a way and a such a time as to cause turmoil when we are in the middle of fighting Persian aggressors in Roman territory! I believe that many in the Senate and on the Emperor's council would agree with many of Tetricus' complaints, but not his timing nor his methods! This temporary arrest is not an action against Tetricus by men who side with Vallentinus, but a reminder that all men in Rome, even the Consules, must obey our traditions and our customs, and not act as they will, or they are no better than the barbarians you despise!"

The crowd seemed to sooth with the barely audible explanation of their ‘Defensors’ arrest, but still rolled and moved with riotous anger. Gaius continued, concluding, "The Law is in place to support our traditions, and our traditions support our laws - Unless, of course, you are some sort of radical who thinks that the barbarians have the right idea, in which case your complaints make perfect sense!"

=== Portus Appia, an hour later ===

Two covered carts exited the heavily guarded Appian gate and halted just outside the city walls. Ten Praetorians accompanied the mule-driven carts, each carrying an armload of ten foot poles- sharpened to a point at one end. Two guards ran from the group a few paces out with crude shovels in hand, and parallel to each other on each side of the road began digging deep holes. As they dug, the rest of the guard uncovered the carts and began the gruesome task of impaling the Gothic corpses of Vallentinus’s guard on each of the sharpened posts.

It took just under two hours to impale and erect the slaughtered corpses of Iovinianus Vallentinus’s gothic Wolf Guard along the road. For a quarter mile north of the city gate, twenty five stagnant bodies hung limply along each side of the road for all to see. Their naked bodies were painted with red horns on their chest- to show a curse- and within an hour of being exposed to the warm afternoon sun they began to putrefy. It was the first message from Princeps Daia that he would not bow down to the intimidation of the northern people- the barbarians- and that he meant to rule the city with an iron fist.

=== Palatium Quinus Vitellius, the same time ===

The mob outside the palace at again been engulfed in street battle with the household guard. This time however, torches were lit and thrown over the palace gate- something the guards could not protect against. All had been going well thanks to Augustina, who thanks to the gift of expensive food and her stern but gentle words had kept the mob from growing angrier- until her husband, Decius Agrippa, stormed from the palace to join her.

He was furious at what he had heard- that his wife, a friend of Vallentinus- was feeding the angry mob and pandering to their anti-barbarian sentiment. He ran from the palace and began yelling at her, and then at the mob. He bellowed rants about how they themselves were the barbarians and how they should be ashamed- and how the food was on behalf of Vallentinus and “the wealth he bestowed on us...not,” he said, “Ceres of the house of Tullii.”

That was when the tide turned outside the palace. Instantly all visible eyes flared with the fire of insult, and they began throwing whatever they had left. Augustina was pelted in the face by spit and small rocks, while Decius was narrowly missed by a torch. The crowd was in such a different, more violent state than not fifteen minutes before that the Tullian Guard crunched together and formed an even tighter shield around the palace gate. The captain of the guard turned back for a split second order, shouting for Decius to take Augustina inside.

He did, and as soon as the doors slammed shut and were locked by two frantic slaves, the noise on the other side seemed to grow. Decius held Augustina a few paces behind the massive wood door and listened in horror. Nobody else in the house was close by to hear, and the slaves that had locked the door fled to another part of the house as well. Moments passed as they listened to the guard outside try and defend the entrance to the palace from the riotous mob, and then in an instant they heard a ‘whoosh’ and the cracks around the door before them glowed red- it was on fire from the other side.

=== Four hours later, just before midnight ===

The Praetorians were a bit surprised by the demeanor of Magister Vallentinus. Long had they heard of his rash and sudden acts of violence. He was quick to anger and also quick to physical confrontation; yet except for his initial gesture against them to not touch him when they first aprehended him, he had been very cooperative. They were not sure why, but, regardless it made things easier on them. The large guard who had taken him to his cell had departed hours ago leaving only the specified eight who were left to watch over the most powerful prisoner the castra had seen in decades. They had been given orders from Princeps Daia to ignore him no matter what he uttered.

They did just that; for awhile anyway. Iovinianus was very persistent in simply asking for one of them to come over to his cell. He continued his pestering, in a monotone, low voice meant to eat at their nerves which it did. Finally, the tribune near him finally snapped after having had enough.

“What do you want!?” he cried.

Iovinianus went silent and simply asked, “May I have a stylus and some parchment?”

The praetorian looked at him with a quizzical look as Iovinianus answered him, “Surely you will allow me a chance to write some personal letters to friends and family?”

The tribune was hesitant but, seeing no real harm in the action allowed Iovinianus to receive what he asked along with the specified food he was allowed by Princeps Daia.

Iovinianus then quickly went to work writing letters and was very quiet, much to the satisfaction of the Praetorians.

When he had finished, he called over the tribune again. “Praetorian,” he began, “do you still love Honestus?”

The tribune and the other Praetorians were caught a bit off guard and then looked to each other before looking back at the magister; the tribune answering for all of them.

“Of course we are.”

“Then please.” Iovinianus stated as he extended a sealed letter with his signet ring on the letter. “I trust then this will get to him, and no one else?”

Iovinianus’ words were very heavy and surely what was in it was serious. Yet, it was to their beloved former commander, the man who should have been emperor and one of Rome ’s greatest commanders. The tribune could not know what was inside it and he knew it was thick and possibly continued a lot of information; so, hesitantly, he took the letter and swallowed a breath before looking into the eyes of the magister and replying, “It will be in his hands and no one else’s.”

Iovinianus smiled slightly and nodded, “Thank you Tribune.”

As the praetorian turned to walk away he was called once more by the magister who now stood at the bars with his hands on them.

“Tribune, I have but one request of a dead man.” he paused, “Allow me to speak with my people, one last time?”

The praetorian was about to attack him verbally and belittle him but held his tongue. Again, what harm could there be in letting him speak with people who were already in their custody, and they would be in the room with them after all. After some pondering, the tribune grudgingly agreed and sent for a few men outside to fetch Iovinianus’ prefect and aide, Secondus Kaeso Caecilianus, his slave Cynicus and the German and Gothic royal, Amalafrida. They arrived minutes later.

“Thank the gods you’re still alive!” exclaimed Kaeso as he came over to the cell, a large smile on his face.

“Yes old friend, but I fear that will not be for much longer.” Iovinianus commented.

Instantly, the warm expression on Kaeso’s face turned sour and shocked. “They… they can’t execute you? Not…not without some sort of trial….”

Kaeso stammered his words, not willing to believe what was going on.

“No, they can.” Iovinianus corrected him, “And the Princeps will. Surely, this is a power play of his, showing Rome and the Senate he is not some weak ruler.”

Iovinianus shook his head. “I never should have supported him for emperor…”

“Dominus, your legions will not allow this, surely you must remember that.” Cynicus stated, trying to cheer his master up, then asked, “Princeps Daia is not that ignorant.” he paused. “If he kills you, who will defend Rome?”

Iovinianus gave a wry grin, “That’s just it Cynicus I don’t think he is thinking ahead.” he paused to sigh before coming over to them and speaking quietly stated, “Listen, I did not call you hear to formulate plans or counter actions. I will die soon and I wished to speak with you one last time.” he turned to Cynicus first.

“My grumpy and sarcastic Greek.” he smiled. “We have been through much together but I’m afraid our time is ending.”

Cynicus began to cry a bit. He had known Iovinianus since he was eighteen, and had been with him nearly the whole time. He was family and he could not bear to think of his life without him.

“I want you to know, you’re free in my will. Please, see to it that my daughters grow up healthy and looked after and please ensure they find respectable husbands.” he told his servant.

“I will dominus…” Cynicus said as tears came down his cheeks.

“And please, for me, find some well to do girl and settle down. I think I’ve used up enough of your life as is already. Don’t you think?” Iovinianus said trying to crack a joke.

Cynicus could not laugh all he could do was sniffle loudly and wipe his eyes nodding, replying, “Yes dominus.”

Iovinianus then turned to Kaeso and grasped his arm through the bars.

“Brother, we have traveled a long and tiresome road.” he stated to his prefect.

“You can’t die here.” Kaeso whispered. “You weren’t meant to die here…”

Iovinianus smirked at the comment before retorting, “At least I die in Rome eh? It could have been some ditch in Britannia or some mud puddle in the middle of Germania Magna.”

Kaeso let out a bit of a laugh but it was somewhat forced.

“Please,” Iovinianus continued, “promise me you will go home to Qaestra and have yourself a happy family.”

“But sir…?” Kaeso tried to say.

“No buts…just…just swear to me won’t do something stupid and not come home to Qaestra.” Iovinianus persisted.

Kaeso, swallowed hard and nodded slightly, looking down before he looked back up into his captains eyes and nodded more resolutely. “I promise.”

“Then may the gods bless you and may Iuno grant Qaestra with a litter of small mouths.” Iovinianus said with a grin.

Kaeso was teary eyed as well but held his emotions in check.

“We will meet again brother. I know we will. Please, guard over my daughters and my family?” Iovinianus asked with genuine concern in his eyes.

“I will.” Kaeso resolutely stated. “I swear on my life I will.”

“Thank you brother…” Iovinianus said before giving him an awkward hug through the bars. “Tell my girls I love them and that I’m sorry.” Iovinianus said, and added,“And also, tell Arria I love her too and that I’m sorry for everything I’ve put her through.”

Britannia Arria Varro had become like another daughter to him, and he was sorry that he could not see her grow up more and he still felt horrible for putting her into such danger a couple years back. He hoped she would understand, as well as his own girls, for what had and would happen.

“I will sir.” Kaeso said in a low voice.

Iovinianus now looked to Amalafrida and gave her a bit of a funny grin as she walked over. Her expression and demeanor did not suggest she was sorrowful or even sad, but her eyes showed some compassion. She had always and would forever hate Rome for all it did to her and her family; yet Iovinianus showed her something important. He had taught her that Rome was starkly different from Romans and that even Rome destroyed its own people in as savage a way as had happened to her.

“So, perhaps now you see what we had in common.” he said quietly. “And that I was never your enemy in the first place.”

She spoke very softly, “I do.”

“Theodoric should be kind to you.” he hesitated his comments, “If he isn’t, please know you may reside in my home for as long as you like.”

She gave a faint smile, before saying, “I don’t know if I should be sad or happy right now.” She paused and looked away and then back at Iovinianus adding, “My mind tells me I should be happy and glad to see you die, yet, my heart says I shouldn’t, that I’m losing a friend, an ally and the only person who could have helped our people.”

“What do you believe is true?” he asked.

“I don’t know anymore.” she stated, looking away.

Iovinianus was not sure why he had become attached to her since she came to be in his company a year before. Perhaps it was because he liked her company, perhaps it was because she was another royal, perhaps it was because she was attractive or more likely, maybe it was because every time he looked at her and into her eyes he saw Mariniara. Same complexion, same hair color, same age, same upbringing; almost everything was identical but, he knew she was not her. Yet, he liked to think when it was dark and he was half awake that he still held his dead wife in his arms.

Amalafrida leaned in and cupped his chin, giving him a soft, gentle kiss before whispering, “Your line will not end with you…” she paused before giving him one last, deeper kiss, “I will mourn you.”

Iovinianus looked at her a bit perplexed and she merely pulled away, holding his gaze not letting on anything or any insight to her comments.

After a moment of silence Iovinianus sighed and looked to the praetorian tribune, calling out to him. “Tribune, if you would not mind. I would like to borrow your sword for a moment.”

Immediately the praetorian and all those around him looked hesitant, confused and a bit nervous.

“Please praetorian, I would fall on my sword than have to be butchered like some caged animal.” he stated. “Allow me that one honor.”

The tribune, assuming he was going to be executed in a couple hours anyway, saw no good reason not to allow him to die now. So reluctantly, and with some nervous hesitation, handed his sword to Iovinianus through the bars who took it with a thanking smile.

“Please, allow my prefect to assist me…” Iovinianus asked.

The tribune was getting fed up with the requests and glanced at his men to be ready for any sudden action by the magister as he now, against his better judgment, opened the cell door to allow Kaeso entrance.

Once inside, Iovinianus had his friend and aide brace the hilt of the gladius on his hip so the blade would go clean, up into his ribs and deliver and instant kill. He grabbed onto Kaeso’s shoulders and looked him cleanly in the eyes. He suddenly let go with his right hand and ripped something from his own neck. It was a black amber dagger. It had belonged to Mariniara and she had always worn it. Since her passing Iovinianus wore it at all times. He kissed it and then once again held onto his prefect’s shoulders.

Kaeso was going to ask if he had any last requests but he could see in his commander’s eyes what they were, very plain and simple.

“Know today, that though those people call me a barbarian, I am a Roman and here, I die like one.” he stated, more so to the Praetorians than Kaeso.

With one hard pull he threw himself into the blade which passed under his armor and up into his chest cavity. Iovinianus began to shake and breath heavily as he then pulled himself even harder under he was hugging Kaeso, the blade completely in his lungs and upper torso. As he clutched his old friend, he gently whispered, “Mariniara… I come for you…” and slowly his grip faded and he fell to the ground the blade deep in his chest.

Cynicus fell to his knees in tears, Kaeso leaned down with shaking hands covered in his commander’s blood; his mouth aghast in shock and horror. The Praetorians were quiet and motionless, any action or words they had stripped from them by the scene they suddenly beheld. Amalafrida stood rigidly quiet and looked on seemingly unaffected by what she saw, yet what all the others did not see and only she knew was feeling a single tear fall from her left eye down her cheek. She closed her eyes and fought off any others that dared to form and so only she would know that a tear had even fallen. Thus, Laenas Iovinianus Vallentinus, master of the Roman west and one of the most powerful men Rome had ever known passed. Only the gods knew what would happen when his officers and his legions learned of his fate.

There was some silence before a praetorian stepped behind Kaeso and suddenly grabbed him, holding his hands behind his back. The Roman who had been born to Roman plebians from Ravenna in northern Italia and who had once served as one of the aides to Divus Valens Piso looked on with sudden confusion and anger.

“What is the meaning of this!” he demanded.

He had not finished laying down the body of his commander, his blood still hot and his body warm; and he had not even made any attempt to resist the situation.

The tribune, suddenly pulled the blade from the magister’s torso and looked at the now struggling Kaeso simply shaking his head, “I’m sorry…” he began as his left hand grabbed the shoulder of Kaeso and he placed his blade at the prefects’ stomach finishing with, “…but orders are orders.”

And with that suddenly, the blade was thrust into Kaeso and he too now felt the aching pain of the blade as it drank his life away. He made a few low grunts as he swallowed hard, blood pooling in his mouth before he glared at the Praetorian with ever increasing dead and empty eyes; until, finally his strength disappeared and his eyes went blank. As Kaeso fell to the ground beside his captain, the Praetorians descended on Cynicus who was dispatched in the same brutal fashion.

Once the Praetorians had finished their grim business they looked over at Amalafrida who was ever so slightly shaking but her attitude and demeanor remained strong in the face of such violence. She coldly looked at the tribune holding the bloodied blade in his hand as it dripped red crimson onto the floor, forming a small puddle, asking, “So am I next then?”

“No your highness…” the tribune said in a mocking tone. “…you’re going to become acquainted with one of our more pleasurable cells until we can ship you back to your barbarian relative up north.”

The other Praetorians chuckled a bit before the tribune gestured with his head to have her taken away. Amalafrida looked darkly upon them before being forcibly escorted to a secluded cell elsewhere in the castra, yet not before she went down to the fallen Vallentinus and took what was in his hand. The praetorians tried to take it form her but she fought back and the tribune had to relent since he was under strict orders that she was not to be harmed in any way whatsoever.

The tribune looked down at the corpses for a moment once she had gone and felt a praetorian behind him ask quietly, “Sir, should we give this letter to the Princeps?”

The tribune thought on it long and hard before finally answering, “No. We will honor our agreement only because it is to Honestus.” he began, “Besides, if there’s anything insidious in them I have no doubt that Honestus would not hesitate to inform the Senate and the Princeps.”

The other Praetorian nodded and put the large, thick letter into his belt before departing and leaving. The bodies would be cleaned and left in the cell until Princeps Daia was informed of what occurred.


=== Imperial Palace, Princep Daia’s bedchamber ===

Actius Decius Daia lay dozing restlessly in his bed, troubled by the day-long string of unrest throughout the city. He was confident the source of all the strife amongst his subjects would be snuffed out soon, but it didn’t help ease his uncomfortably alert state. His wife Julia, the unfathomably beautiful sister of the late Emperor Dio, held his hand while she slumbered beside him. Her soft skin did nothing to ease his tension.

Decius lifted his head in concern when a sudden shuffling sound filled his room. He looked to his left- toward the door of the room, and saw a servant of his wife’s handing out a robe for him to don. He looked past her through the door and saw what appeared to be an armored man waiting- a Praetorian by the look of him, or at least that is what Decius’s mind hoped it would be.

The man in the door was a Praetorian, it turned out, and he stepped back and saluted Decius as soon as he exited his room. Decius yawned and with a furrowed brow spoke slowly; His mouth was dry and he hadn’t spoken for a few hours yet. “What is it, Tribune?”

“Sir, the Magister has chosen his fate. I came as soon as the blood ceased to flow from his body” The Tribune smirked, but quickly suppressed it when his Princeps failed to do the same.

Decius sighed, “I will come in the morning to view him myself- keep the body secure. Thank you Tribune, Rome can rest more easily now. Dismissed.”

“Sir.” The Tribune nodded quietly and briskly moved away from the Princep’s bedroom, where just only a few paces down the hall he could hear the door of the room close as it had opened- softly. Decius lay down again next to his wife, and for the first time that night succumbed to a restful slumber.

The next morning, after seeing the solemn corpse of Iovinianus Vallentinus laid out in the cell which he died in, Princeps Daia made way for the Palatine Forum. He was accompanied by his usual retinue of guards, and this time had a few courtiers with him for show. The riots and unrest of the night before had been quelled by the strength and cooperation of the Urban Cohorts and Vigiles, so the streets leading to the forum, still covered in morning dew, were still and calm.

Once in the forum, where the morning rays of light shone down on the rostra and still shaded the many shops lining the vast open space, the Princeps mounted the rostra and surveyed the crowd before him. The forum was bustling as it would have been if he had arrived in the afternoon, but the few hundred citizens and other people running about to start their day quickly noticed their Princeps before them and stopped to listen. It was a stark contrast to the forum of only ten hours prior.

Decius coughed, and then lifted his hands to about his shoulders, palms outward and said, “My fellow citizens,

Rome is in troubled straits. In the East, our brethren face extreme numbers and have already lost many great men. In Hispania, we are only two years out from rebellious times. Throughout the empire citizens struggle to maintain the standards of comfort and prosperity we have known during the times of Pertinax and Pompeius. Certainly the North is no exception to all these things. In the North, Magister Iovinianus Vallentinus sought to improve upon that condition. However, by doing so he forgot the traditions and laws he was supposed to uphold. Of those laws, his greatest offense was that of believing his authority was equal to that of the Senate and People of Rome. My brothers, no individuals's imperium is greater than Rome. No man can declare himself the law and authority of Rome!

Although the questioning of Iovinianus Vallentinus by the Senate was unproductive, his questioning by the Consilium Princeps and myself uncovered his past deeds. Further, we understood that he could continue to be a threat to Rome and Our Tradotions. For his infractions, it was decided that he would face sever punishment; however, for his honorable deeds, he was allowed to choose a punishement. Last night his choice was to die in honor by taking his own life. I have seen the body of that man with my own eyes. It is obvious that he took his life as a soldier falling upon his sword.

Because this man decided to choose an honorable end and acknowledged that his deeds broke the traditions and laws of Rome, by violating the imperium of the Senate and People of Rome, his family will be able to maintain their honor. Vallentinus shall not be seen as a traitor to Rome, his family may inherit his welath and honor, and the people of Rome may rejoice knowing that our ways shall be upheld!

As for Consul Tetricus Vitellius, I will soon be meeting with him to discuss an accusation made against him by some members of the Senate. However, these accusations are of a personal matter and shall be resolved between the two parties. His arrest was only to ensure he not try to force a decision upon the former Magister, for the feud between these two men was no mystery to any within these walls. Therefore, after I have been able to meet with Tetricus Vitellius, we will begin to focus on the defense of Rome and Our Values!”



Written By: Ferus Juventas, Neos Dionysos, Actius Decius Daia, Tacitus Gaius Probus and with input from various other players.

Edited By: Gms (Ferus Juventas, Jupiter Optimus Maximus)

131 AD





Sun, 11 May 2008 15:20:10 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11246 === A brothel, lower Viminal hill, Rome ===

“Can you believe they put Tetricus under house arrest?” A man asked to the barkeep in a brothel, located one of the poorer districts of Rome. His words were slurred by beer- or a lack of teeth- and his tone was distressed.

“They what?” The bartender asked, curiously. He had heard the question clearly enough, but just didn’t understand it. “You mean… Consul Vitellius, right?”

The man nodded and with an errant roll of his eyes nodded his head back with a swig of his swill, while someone sitting next to him- a man with a heavy Sicilian accent- chimed in. “I was outside his villa when it happened; They just went to his door and told him how it was- no respect! They knocked me down on the way, too.”

The barkeep, still looking confused, again asked; “Consul? ...Vitellius? I don’t get it, he is Consul. Who would arrest the Consul?”

“Yes!” Shouted a man who had just entered the brothel, the door swinging behind him. “They arrested a true Roman because he tried to limit the powers of Iovinianus Vallentinus. What vile filth has this city come to when we allow--”

“Hey!” The barkeep shouted, slamming a spit-shined cup on the bar counter for the new patron. “ None of that in here, I won’t have people going around starting trouble in my place of business!”

The man scoffed, and then took the cup. “Place of business, he says! You sell cheap women to us, the dregs of society! And you are going to get trouble my friend, the whole city is in an outrage over this. You should hear what they say the Senators are saying!”

The man reached for a dagger kept hidden under his counter, hovering the blade just above the counter in case it was necessary. His ploy of intimidation worked and the loudmouth began to back off. “If you want to start a problem, you’re about to get one. I don’t care who was arrested for what but--”

One of the other patrons, clearly drunk as well, went to grab the dagger from the barkeep’s hand. “Don’t care about what happens to Tetricus!? He has done more for Romans then any other one of those Senators!”

The bartender was too quick for him, moved his hand out of the way. In a heartbeat the grimy barkeep grabbed his unruly customer by the nape of his neck, shoved him down onto the counter and slit open his ear. “That’s enough to this!” He yelled, almost as loud as his victim screamed.

The man fell to the floor holding the side of his head with both hands, cursing and whining as the sharp jolts of pain ripped through his body. Everyone in the brothel, women included, gave the barkeep their attention; The silence was deafening. The original instigator, who had backed off at the sight of the knide, glared at the keeper. “What are you, some kind of Vallite? A Goth lover!?”

“No… I…” The barkeep stuttered, unsure. As the words sank in around him, he found himself being glared at by almost the entire room. “He … he was…”

“This city has no room for the likes of you! That’s how our great empire has gotten to be the way it is!” The man was keenly playing on the anti-barbarian sentiment that had been growing in the city of Rome. It had grown strong between the last time the Magister per Occidens had been to the city, and now where he was being questioned by the senate. The man turned to the crowded room and with a fire in his eyes shouted, “Death of all German-lovers!”

Within minutes, the barkeepers body was dead on the floor, beaten to death. The short frenzy wasn’t over, and each patron who left had a grudge to play out.

=== Outside the Curia ===

“The audacity!” Senator Fabius Tertilus shouted, his hands flailing. “That man thinks he is a god on earth, acting as Iuno herself- and claims it as an excuse to be a psychopath!”

A small group of like-minded Senators had gathered outside the curia after the Consular hearing had ended to watch the Magister be dragged to the Imperial Palace for further queastioning- and to yammer on to their eagerly awaiting clients and associates who had stood patiently on the Senate steps. They soaked up his recap like dry sponges.

“He says that he has the right to execute Proconsular Legates because he himself shares imperium with Imperator Varro. He is a wild man, as we all know. It’s ridiculous that those Tullian panderers support him! And Senator Decius Agrippa!–“

Senator Jasnius Brontus, cut in. “He wants to set up his own kingdom, it’s so obvious, but nobody sees it. They are all afraid of him! He claims all this influence, and under his excuses you can clearly see his threats of action!”

Gasps and words of bewilderment echoed through the crowd. It consisted of upper-class merchants and other businessmen, all men who had business with Senators on a regular basis and knew the hearing was going on. Behind them though were a few small groups of commoners, all just within earshot. They heard, ‘Tullian... support kingdom... Vallentinus’ and were immediately infuriated.

“He brought a barbarian Queen with him into the pomerium!” Jasnius stated, his eyes widening and his stature heightening for effect. Again the crowd behind the assembled aristocrats heard only what they wanted, ‘Barbarian Queen’. They had enough, and with shouts unheard by the Senators and their growing audience, left the area.

They headed toward the Palatine Forum, along the way sharing with whoever would listen that the Tullians supported Vallentinus’s new Kingdom in the north and that he came here with his new Queen. Their crowd grew, and before they could reach the forum proper they were diverted by other angry street folk who suggested they storm the Palatium Quinus Vitellius, home of the Tullii and their Vallentinus supporting cause.

=== Palatine Forum, Rome ===

“People of Rome ! You are all ordered to your homes…” An Urban Cohorts officer was shouting to the mass of people. “Small and isolated riots have broken out in a few of the lower-class districts. In an effort to prevent wide-scale rioting, you are to return to your homes until sunrise!”

Praefectus Urbanus Maximus Tiberius Agrippa, realizing that having the controversial Magister per Occidens in Rome, and having the equally controversial Consul Tetricus Vitellius under house arrest could be a recipe for disaster, ordered all Urban Cohorts units on alert to patrol the sensitive areas of the city, like the Palatine Forum, but also the Imperial Palace where the Magister would be and, the neighborhoods- especially where Consul Vitellius would be.

The officer had about two hundred men with him, all decked out with small clubs and determination. Clearly he felt that he had sufficient forces to deal with any dissidents who may cause trouble, but the tone of his voice when speaking betrayed and attempt at looking totally confident. He was, after all, facing a far larger number of people than two hundred. At first, the people began to drain from the forum in an organized fashion, some heading towards other destinations of unrest, but after a few moments, a peasant stopped in his tracks and shouted out; “Why must we suffer because of a bad decision made by the Senate!? Do they pander to Barbarian aggression?!”

The question was intended to be an insult, but the peasant hadn’t heard much about what was going on, and only knew the basics- That the Magister was being held at the Imperial Palace after an unsuccessful Senate hearing, and the Magister’s most vocal opponent was put under arrest less than an hour before. The officer responded loudly, and pointed his club the peasant shouted, “That’s enough out of you! Arrest him for instigation!”

The man, in the middle of a large group of people- about four hundred strong- who had by now stopped to watch, looked horrified and tried to run away. A guardsman was too close and grasped the peasant’s upper-right arm. Instinctively the peasant tried to pull away and was shouting pleas of mercy, but the guard kept pulling him toward arrest. Another guard came over and wailed on the back of his head with a small club; from the officer it was just hard enough to knock him out, so he could be removed form the forum without incident, but to the restless crowd it was a death blow- dealt by Iovinianus Vallentinus.

The action was the wrong one to make in front of the crowd- People who saw the act instantly started shouting “They are beating us! They have us surrounded!” Others started shouting: “This is all for Vallentinus!” and “The cohorts are working for the Gothic King!”

The guards looked at each other and the officer began to reiterate his command; “RETURN TO YOUR HO…” he was struck in the head by a rock thrown by a member of the crowd. The other guardsmen’s response was to start swinging their small clubs at the people, who reacted by using whatever they could, grabbing at whatever to fight back. A growing chant began to resonate among the rioting people: “Down with Vallentinus, Down with Daia! We want Roman blood, not barbarian scum!”

The riot was quickly checked by additional guardsmen and some Praetorians who had only just showed up. But it was clear, the people in the group were not happy about the decision to arrest the man who claimed to be their most vocal of champions. While the bulk of the dissenting crowd in the forum was being corralled and beaten into submission, a hefty handful slipped away with angry chants of “Get the Magister Gothicus, take the Imperial Palace!” and headed just that direction- a hundred or so strong- to the Imperial Palace.

=== A bath house in Rome, east of the Palatine Forum ===

“A riot has broken out in the forum, and on the way here- I must say I was actually frightened- I heard there was an angry mob heading up the Quirinalis to the home of that Senator Decius Agrippa--” a man said to a group of other nobleman, in the calidarium of a private bath.

“I’ve heard, no doubt as a means of showing their support for the Consul, that brainless twit...” another said, cutting him off. He held no remorse in his tone of the words of disrespect, and looked not at his associate’s reactions to his words, but continued to rub his knees under water.

“Actually no,” the other man said, “I heard it was started when an officer the Urban Cohorts attacked a man for acting out rashly--”

He was cut off by a another man, walking around the pool itself looking for a place to get in. “Either way, our dear Consul Vitellius has brought this all upon himself. Magister Vallentinus may be an animal- but he hasn’t sacked Rome yet- or threatened to do so. Consul Vitellius has done nothing but pander to the common folk to get their thoughtless reactions in times such as now- when he is being punished for his idiocy.”

“His what?” the first man asked. He propped himself up on his elbows, just on the rim of the pool and looked his acquaintance dead on.

“The Defensor Populi Romani, Consul Vitellius... come on, Radrius. Surely you seen how it’s in our best interest to leave Iovinian--”

The doors to the calidarium burst open just as he was about to say the name, and a smattering of lictors and personal guardsmen rushed about to their wards. “Sir! The riots aren’t contained- they are getting worse, and coming this way. You all have to go!”

=== Domus Backroom, Rome ===

“They are both imbeciles,” the senior bureaucrat spoke with little emotion in reference to Rome’s two most controversial figures. “The Princeps, may the gods bless him, has acted correctly – so far. I can tolerate one man fighting another in an organized manner… perhaps in the arena. But I will not allow a demagogue’s hooligans to run about unchecked, ruining my projects and damaging the economy of my… our city.”

“Yes, I agree, absolutely,” responded an aristocratic official, who afforded a degree of respect to his colleague despite the man’s inferior social status. The nobleman knew that he was dealing with Rome’s most powerful technocrat.

“We shall target potential ringleaders as well as the agents. The latter are embedded in our institutions, unfortunately, so we must tread cautiously.”

“Ringleaders, yes, of course. But for now we can only react.”

“Ahh… but is that true? Think, my friend. The ringleaders will naturally congregate in certain locations. The Urban Cohorts are reactive. We must be proactive.”

The two officials clasped hands. “Very well, my men are at your service,” exclaimed the aristocrat.

=== Outside the city villa of Consul Tetricus Vitellius ===

A group of around two hundred people had made their way across the city of Rome to the villa that was Tetricus’s Rome-based residence. Many of the assembled men were recognizable as either Tetricus’ clients or the clients of his clients, although some unfamiliar fierce-looking commoners appeared among them. With damage control that both Urban Cohorts and the Praetorians were performing throughout the city of Rome, very few were able to make after the group of rioters within a reasonable time, and those who were sent to intercept them were far behind.

The mob gathered outside the main gate of the Sarian villa, chanting in support of the Consul. They were screaming and shouting “Free Tetricus Vitellius!” “Free the Defensor!” “The Consul has done no wrong!”

The ten Praetorians that were assigned to Tetricus by Emperor Daia were standing behind the main gate, weapons drawn, ready to make their attempt to block the mob should it decide to attack. One man looked at a Praetorian and shouted: “Traitor! How could you choose Vallentinus over a Roman Consul?! He has been a voice of reason!”

One Praetorian looked as if he were wavering, like he was conflicted about the whole situation. He looked to another officer for support, but the only reply was the mouthing of ‘Perform your orders’. The other guard nodded in compliance and reset his feet firmly in place, staring determinedly out over the assembled mob.

With each passing moment the crowd grew more and more aggressive in their mannerisms until one shouted: “Kill the Praetorians! It’s time to free our champion!” Before the mob could go on the attack, the Consul appeared behind the Praetorians- much to the surprise of the guard, and to the delight of the small mob. The Praetorian guardsmen turned, not knowing if this was a good or bad thing, and after a few seconds more of cheering, the Consul raised his arms and asked the crowd for silence.

“My fellow citizens, I want to let you know how touched I am that you have come here, to show me your support! If there was ever a time I needed to know the people approved of my actions, it is now, when I am reduced to being a criminal in the eyes of the Senate!” For a moment, it seemed as if Tetricus was about the seal the fate of his captors and break free of house arrest, as his father had once done in the very same location.

He continued after a loud outburst from the crowd that subsided after he flung his hands out again. “But do not blame these men here…” The Consul motioned to the Praetorians, “They are only doing their job, and after speaking to them, I know how conflicted they are about the orders they were given. But I will not dishonor them by asking them to betray their orders nor will I force them to. They are good, loyal Romans- Unlike some!”

“My fellow citizens,” he continued, “You have made me so happy by coming here! I had thought hat everything was over, that Iovinianus Vallentinus had won the Senate over through intimidation and that with the Senate would go the city, because none of them have the strength or conviction such as I! I was wrong, you showed me that I must continue to fight for our rights and privileges as Romans, and fight against the tyranny of the ‘Gothic King’!” He paused, then noticed a force approaching the people from the rear- the guardsmen who were after the mob.

The group walked up, their officer, within speaking distance of Tetricus. “You must disperse or be placed under arrest!”

The crowd reacted very negatively, but most looked to the Consul as if asking for permission to break the chains of his house arrest. The Consul smiled warmly and, instead of speaking to the eyes of the mob, began to speak to the leader of the cohort’s men.

“Officer, these are Roman citizens! I have never spilt a drop of Roman blood in my life, and I do not want to see this happen on my account- Can we not show them the respect of allowed them to return to their homes on their own accord?”

The crowd had grown quiet, but murmurs of dissent still floated around. The officer looked at Tetricus, as if relived that the Consul was not going to make things worse for his men. “No Consul, if this crowd does not leave the area they will be forced to do so!”

A man turned in fear and asked the Consul, “...Consul! This is wrong! How can you allow yourself to be treated like this by the Emperor and Senate! The people want you free!”

The mob shouted in agreement, and Tetricus shook his head ‘no’. “This is not Emperor Daia’s fault. He is a friend of mine and he always will be, and he has my loyalty and he should have yours. No… I think his ears are simply listening to the wrong voices! The Senate is too afraid of the Goth, and so all the Emperor hears are worried and fearful voices! How else can he react? This rioting is not the way! The only way to combat this is to fight the Senate from within the curia.” As the Consul spoke, approximately three hundred vigiles backed by nearly one hundred unidentified men advanced into the area, clubs ready, and surrounded the crowd of Tetricus supporters.

“But you’re arrested!” Came a cry from within the crowd. “The Senators are traitors!” Voices from the crowd repeated angry accusations.

“I doubt things will stay this way for long.” Tetricus began to respond. But he was cut off by the loud shout from the Cohors Vigilum unit.

“Vi Publica! You are under arrest for threatening the public peace!”

The watchmen pounced and began arresting members of the crowd. The ensuing clamor drowned out Tetricus’ voice. Meanwhile, forty of the unidentifiable men who had arrived with the vigiles moved between the Consul and the crowd, formed a double-line position, and shouted “order, order, order,” repeatedly. They effectively drowned out Tetricus’ efforts to communicate, while the Urban Cohorts officer stood immobile and apparently dumbfounded by this turn of events. Some of the Consul’s supporters attempted to resist the vigiles, but their efforts were met with force. After several minutes of scuffling, approximately one hundred men were detained; the other hundred managed to escape.

The vigiles escorted the arrested men, who included many of Tetricus Vitellius’ clients, to the Castra Praetoria. Along the way, Tetricus’ supporters were both pelted with rotten food by a crowd shouting “Down with German-lovers! Down with the Germans!”

“We are friends of the Consul!” one of the detained men attempted to explain. But his voice could not be heard over the clamor and the abuse continued. Only the walls of the Castra brought relief.

=== Palatium Quinus Vitellius, Quirinalis Hill, a half hour later ===

“You’re an idiot, Decius!” Senator Cassius Vitellius yelled. His brother in law stood stoically near the entrance hall of the palace, staring Cassius down.

“No, you’re spineless Cassius! You use Vallentinus like a personal army, don’t deny it, and then you sit back and refuse to defend him!”

Cassius screamed under his breath and stormed around in a circle. Outside the palace gates quivered and angry mob of a few hundred anti-barbarian protestors, hurling insults and garbage- and stones- at the palace doors and windows. The Tullian Guard, the family’s private force, had the palace itself secure, but they were ordered to refrain from retaliating against the crowd. Decades ago Cassius’s grandfather was met with riots similar to this, and met the force with wine and food- but this was strikingly different, and Cassius knew it.

“You’re a common provincial upstart Decius! Use your brain! I didn’t know what was going to happen if Iovinianus came to Rome, and I offered this house because I thought- I THOUGHT- that it would have a respect amongst our peers that would make it untouchable- I WAS WRONG.” Cassius’s words were emotional, but strong and unwavering. “If you hadn’t pandered to the Magister when there was a realistic chance of curbing his power this wouldn’t be happening!”

Decius lashed out and threw a bust of a distant relative of its perch near where he stood and watched with fiery eyes as it crashed into three and some odd pieces at Cassius’s feet. Other members of the family were gathered on the fringes of the argument, but none dared intervene. “I earned my place in this family through the filling of your coffers, don’t you DARE lay the blame for this on me! Your greed- your whole family’s greed brought it to this!”

“Aarrrgh!” Cassius let loose a deeply rooted groan of frustration. He knew that his family had something to do with all that was happening this day, but it wasn’t as if their actions were out of the ordinary. He did indeed love Iovinianus- for more reasons than lining his treasury gold- but that didn’t mean he believed in everything the Magister had done in the past. “Fine- Fine, gods I hate you right now! I hate this whole wretched mess and I blame you- YOU! I will .... Jupiter help me... I will plead with Princeps Daia to be lenient if I have time, but if it backfires, Decius, I am going to have your quartered here in this very atrium!”

“Go to Hades!” Decius shouted back. He stormed off toward his wife, who was wide eyed and dismayed by the whole ordeal. The people in the house were scared, but so far nothing bad had occurred on the inside. Augustina hugged her husband, and as they left the room she looked back over her shoulder and glared at her brother. It was no secret they all wished Tacitus were home- but he was in Hispania, too far to deal with the problem himself.


Outside the mob was growing more angry by the minute with the lack of confrontation from the occupants of the house- namely Senators Decius Agrippa and Cassius Vitellius. They shouted insults like “Barbarian lovers!” “Rome haters” “Populares hate Rome!” “Death to the Tullii who support the Magister!” amongst other, more gruesome slurs. The mob thrust against the family guard of the Tullians and pulsated violently with their bodies and crude weapons, until finally one of the guard struck back. The blow from the butt of his gladius- which they wore on the palace grounds outside the pomerium- knocked the rioter down onto his haunches, and blood poured down his forehead.

That single move launched the mass crowd into a violent tirade that engulfed the one-hundred-plus guard into a street battle. They fought back, pushing the rioters away from the house successfully until a random peasant from the back threw a torch- which landed behind the guard. This signaled a renewed vigor amongst the crowd, and they would take down their fair share of guards before being dissipated.


Written by: Lepidus Tetricus Vitellius, GMs (Ferus Juventas, Jupiter Optimus Maximus)
Edited by: GMs

131 AD Sat, 10 May 2008 04:53:58 -0400 http://www.romanlegion.com/forum/read.php3?forum=1&id=11219 === Villa Mares, Estate of Proconsular Legate Cassius Romulus Julianus, Cyrenica ===

It was early morning as the sunlight glistened upon Alyias’ dark hair. Her warm body next to him provided a modicum of comfort. He watched the changing colors on each strand as the light began to fill the room. He brushed softly back a few strands so he could look upon her face and think; ‘How much time I have lost being by her side while serving Rome?’

“Why do you play with my locks, Romulus? The sun is risen and so should you. You have men to lead. You have–“

Romulus silended her with a finger pressed against her lips. “Quit playing with me Alyias. See to our children and maybe we will ride along the coastline as a family later this afternoon.”

Romulus got out of bed and began to splash some water on his face from the basin in their room. Amidst a motion of splashing water, he heard footsteps and soft spoken words just outside his door. He continued to dress knowing that his day would now begin. Moments later fully dressed he stepped outside his chamber and was greeted by his Captain of the Guard, Tribune Agrippa Marius Castus. Marius saluted Romulus immediately. “Good Morning Proconsular Legate Julianus.”

Romulus nodded in return, pleased with the formality. “Good Morning Tribune Castus. What do you have for me this morning?”

“Sir, I have your horse ready as requested and Legate Flavus has been summoned to ride with you this morning,” replied Marius. He stepped aside and let his commander by.

“Marius, have you heard any word on Legate Gracchus or his whereabouts?” Romulus questioned, walking briskly.

“None Sir. The outer sentries have heard nothing.” Marius continued, trying to keep up. “I can have a couple of my men ask questions in the surrounding villages.”

Romulus waved off the idea. “That will not be necessary Marius. Things have been quiet here since we arrived. There has been a tranquil peace and grain production has increased two fold from the apparent stability. There is no need to unnecessarily bring any attention to ourselves or to upset the locals. Those are lessons you should learn well now so you do not repeat the mistakes of your leaders.” Romulus smirked at his last remark.

“Yes Sir, that is good advice.” Marius stood at attention while Romulus mounted his horse, just outside the villa.. He watched his commander fill his men with awe even in the simplest of things such as riding a horse. This was a man he could learn from.

=== Main Roman Coastline road in Cyrenaica ===



Legate Brutus Arathae Flavus came alongside Proconsular Legate Cassius Romulus Julianus. Meanwhile their guards formed a new protective column behind them with scouts riding ahead and along both sides- a practice formed when Romulus arrived in Cyrenica. Romulus motioned with his hand for Arathae to close the distance between them so they may speak as they rode along the coast.

The men’s horses synchronized their gait as if they were one. Romulus smiled as he felt this as a good omen and looked at Arathae. “Arathae how long have we known each other?”

Arathae laughed a hearty chuckle, “Long enough to have lived and died together many times, Sir.”

A slight smirk spread across the corner of Romulus' weathered face. “It has been awhile since we have talked freely that is…We have all been working for the past couple of years to restore the peace to the region and rebuild lives and communities.” Romulus pauses as he smelled the fresh salt air. “We have also had to rebuild the Legions and train the new recruits who replaced the pensioners. In your opinion how are the men doing?”

Arathae scratched his beard, “We have come far toward restoring our state of readiness. The seasoned veterans who reenlisted have done Rome proud. The men speak daily of their abilities, and request for them to be tested.”

Romulus looked at his old friend and, one of Rome’s finest generals, fondly. “Arathae this is good news, but I am concerned.”

“How so General?” Arathae looked deeply into Romulus’s eyes. “What is it?”

“You know that I am not superstitious. Yes, I plant trees for Jupiter and say my prayers but I have never been one for the local customs, oracles, dreams…you know superstitions.” Romulus moved his horse along with a firm squeezing of his legs.

Arathae chose his words carefully as it was rare that Romulus ever opened up any personal information to his men, “Of course Sir.”

“Lately I have had a repeating dream…it is like I keep reliving the same thing over and over again…it haunts me, Arathae…it haunts me.” Romulus looked genuinely troubled.

Arathae slowed his horse beside Romulus and looked interested, “Would you tell me of this dream General?”

Romulus stopped his horse near an outcrop looking east over the water toward the eastern campaign. “Arathae, the dream takes place here. I and you are looking east and see the smoke billowing from funeral pyres from several locations doting the coastline. At first I think it is a storm sent by the Gods and that bolts of lightening are striking down Roman colonies, and the men of the legions that have served under me.” Romulus re-adjusted his seating in the saddle, showing obvious discomfort with the subject matter. “I realize it is an invasion by the Persians and Rome is losing.”

“Sir you are probably frustrated, as you had remarked on more than one occasion when we were stationed along the Persian borders of your mistrust of those men. Now that we have heard the news that the Persian scum have mounted an attack you are just wrestless, General. Besides, with Generals Like Flamininus, the Imperator himself, and of course your old friend Calidus Raeus Vittelius, the Persians will not survive long,” Arathae replied matter of factly.

A roman messenger rode up hurriedly from the east, through the guards up to where the Generals were looking out over the sea. He turned his horse quickly and saluted the men. Romulus returns the salute, questioning, “What is it that you bring in such a hurry?”

The messenger handed a sealed dispatch to Romulus bearing the seal of Proconsular Legate Calidus Raeus Vitellius. Romulus tore it open without hesitation, uneased at the timing.

“Salve Romulus,

I trust this dispatch finds you well, and that all in Africa is in order. I know Rome can always look to you as one of her ablest commanders.

The Eastern war grows difficult, my friend. The Emperor has taken a grievous defeat in Syria and his force has been knocked out of the fight. I am shaping to adjust to the Persian menace, but require assistance.

In the Emperors absence, I have taken command of the war effort. I write to request the transfer of one of your legions to the eastern theatre post haste. I know you stand ready to do your duty - the men may prove invaluable in securing our foothold in the area.

Please reply post haste my friend. Rome has need of you once more.

Signed
Calidus Raeus Vitellius
Proconsular Legate of Phoenicia”

Romulus rolled the dispatch up and advised the messenger to return to the fortress he knew was a few miles to the south of them and get supplies, rest and a new horse for he will be leaving shortly with a reply. The rider quickly galloped off toward the fortress, soon to return.

Now turning his attention toward Arathae, Romulus said, “Arathae, maybe the Gods are communicating to me. It seems the Emperor is in trouble and that Raeus has assumed command of the armies in the east.”

“General…What are your orders?” asks Arathae.

Romulus replied, “You will also need to raise up a guard of thirty men to protect you. Make them your best defenders on horseback. These men must be of solid moral character and loyal to Rome and answer only to you.”

Arathae straightens up in his saddle and answers, ”Yes, Proconsular.”

“In the coming weeks and months you will need these men,” Romulus grabbed Arathaes wrist to make an oath while Arathae reciprocated the gesture. “…By the sign of my standard which represents all mighty Jupiter…I swear that I will always be faithful to Rome and to you.”

“And I, Arathae Flavus, by the sign of my standard which represents all mighty Jupiter. I swear that I will always be faithful to Rome and you. So shall it be done!” Arathae looked at Romulus and inquired, “Will you be leading the men to the Persian Campaign?”

Romulus turned his horse so that the two men and their steeds face each other. The act sended a startling message to the guards observing from a distance. Both men are at full military posture.

“Legate Flavus you are hereby commanded to prepare the men of Legio II Concors and Cohors I Libya for transfer to the Persian Campaign. I am making you acting Legate of II Concors since they are Gracchus’ men. If some ill will has come upon him I cannot have them overreacting at times like these. I came up in the II Illycorium and the men will follow my every order. You will meet up with Proconsular Legate Raues Vitellius and assist him with fighting the Persian menace. Further I will be sending you on my personal galleons along with a grain supply to assist General Vittellius and the legions.”

“Sir…I thought you would lead the men,” Arathae continued, “I mean the dreams, sir.”

“In the dream an old friend is killed and Rome loses territories here in Libya because of my absence. Seeing that Legate Gracchus is missing and the dispatch from Raeus…I am inclined to stay here and secure the grain shipments as well as look for Gracchus. Rome cannot afford a two front campaign,” replied Romulus. “Now move out with your men at once…you set sail within two days. The messenger will catch up with you.”

Arathae moved with his men and road out at once. Romulus got off his horse and kneeled on one knee. Silently he prayed both to Jupiter for direction and Mars for victory. Moments later he rejoined his personal guard and they rode to the fortress.

=== Two hours later, Proconsular office in fortress ===

Romulus lit a candle under the brass bowl holding the crimson wax stick and observed how the wax began to melt. He picked up his quill and began to write on a new sheet of papyrus as the messenger waited in the corner for the general’s dispatch that he will protect with his life until safely delivered to General Vitellius.

“Calidus Raeus Vitellius
Proconsular Legate of Phoenicia

Salve Raeus,

I received your dispatch and am sending Legate Brutus Arathae Flavus in command of Legio II Concors and Cohors I Libya. In addition I am sending two ships of grain to assist with your needs. I will begin sending more grain to your position if needed.

I will stay here in Cyrenica to maintain the African Colonies and to ensure that grain production does not falter for we both know that an army moves on a well fed stomach. In addition I am concerned as Legate Gracchus is missing and will be looking into that matter here in Cyrenica.

May Mars and Jupiter bless you richly my friend and I look forward to hearing your victory stories when we meet again.

Signed,

Cassius Romulus Julianus
Proconsular Legate of Cyrenaica”

Romulus then folded the dispatch and picked up the brass bowl. He carefully dripped the blood red wax and thought of the symbolism of this dispatch being a blood oath between brothers. He firmly stamped his seal into the wax and removed it once the wax had cooled. He then handed it to the messenger, “May Mercury give you fleet feet and Mars watch your back.”

=== Two days later, Port at Cyrene ===

Romulus watched as the final grain shipment was loaded. The men of the II Concors and I Libya were already boarded. He had said his final goodbyes earlier to Arathae. Soon the ships would sail into their destiny. Meanwhile Romulus had still not heard from Gracchus and knew it was time to assemble the men of the II Illycorium. He sent his Captain of the Guard to do just that.

A few days later, somewhere between Tyre and Cyrene on the Mediterranean Sea, a cool wind swept across the deck of a large ship, upon which men moved in seeming chaos. Each had a look of purpose about his face and moved to attend to tasks across the face of the ship- each man on the ship except one. In the center of the ship, leaning back on the central mast, stood a man in Legion garb, his face wrought with strain. As the wind swept across the deck of the ship, Legate Arathae Flavus shifted his cloak to more adequately cover himself. He’d been on this cursed ship for three days now, and would be for several more. Flavus was a soldier, not a seaman, and the constant churning of the sea had him always uneasy and agitated. The temperature of the water had also given him pause, cooling greatly as they left his new home of Cyrenaica, after just finally adjusting to its temperatures.

His heart was light overall, though, for after a quiet break stationed in the south, he had been called back, back to engage in the defense of the Empire. Since the day Romulus had announced that he was to be called to the east, Flavus had been on edge, full of excitement to see the lands that had been his home for much of his adult life. He could almost feel the eastern air upon his face again, taste it even. He could see the flowing land at sunset, crested in a mixture of crimson and gold dancing together in a beauty that can only be dreamt of at its sight.

Yet here and now, facing nothing but the deep open sea, all he could think of was the carnage he was about to once again step into. He would walk beside his brothers once again into the darkness, lighted only by the hope flowing into banners of the Imperial Eagle, and faith in one another. Yet this was his purpose, his training and experience put to use once again, to ensure the existence of the lands he so cherished. He could only hope that he Gods would see both he and Romulus back in the Libyan region through this war so that he might once again gaze upon the beauty of Rome, at least one more time.


Written By: Cassius Romulus Julianus and Brutus Arathae Flavus, with input from Calidus Raeus Vitellius and Gnaeus Scipio Gracchus.

Edited By: Ferus Juventas

131 AD
Tue, 06 May 2008 16:47:35 -0400