[Vignette] Conquest of the North

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Brother-Captain Gaius
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[Vignette] Conquest of the North

Post by Brother-Captain Gaius »

I don't exactly write fiction every day, but for whatever reason the muse struck. This was intended to be part of a series of vignettes fleshing out the history of my D&D setting. I think I sort of failed to impart any of the history I meant to write with this, but I'm pretty happy with it nonetheless. Comments & criticism are appreciated.

Note that while there's obviously some Roman inspiration, this is fantasy fiction. The aim is verisimilitude, not strict adherence to real history.



Conquest of the North

Lucinius blew the whistle, its shrill cry signalling the men to shift ranks. The thick scent of blood and sweat permeated the field, adding a heady texture to the pervasive din of clashing weapons and hoarse battle cries.

"Centurion!" called a voice, and Lucinius turned toward its source. A young but battle-worn soldier, one arm in a makeshift sling, had come running from the direction of the legate's camp. His face was dirty, smeared in the grime that spoke of having been in the field for too long without any kind of bath. "Centurion Lucinius! Orders from the legate! The barbarians are faltering, and your unit is commanded to press the advance and encircle their line!"

The grimy runner handed Lucinius a hastily-scribed parchment detailing the orders, marked with the legate's seal. After a quick salute, the runner dashed off to his next assignment. Any thoughts about the legate's commands, however, were interrupted by the crash of splintering wood and a resounding wet thud. The barbarians were ferocious, and the front line was collapsing under the violent weight of their two-handed hammers and axes. Legionary Cecius Libo, who had been standing only a few feet from Lucinius moments before, was now a limp, bloodied heap in the muddy ground, his shield shattered into a thousand pieces.

Even at full strength and standing with shields and swords at the ready, the raw fury and kinetic impact of a barbarian charge could rattle the most steadfast of men. Now, beaten, battered, exhausted, and having suffered too many casualties, Lucinius could only watch as the insidious seed of panic began to spread like a virulent disease amongst the normally proud ranks of his soldiers. Aurunicus Tiburs fell next, an axe brutally embedded in his gut, and the centurion knew he was only a hair's breadth from losing his unit completely. As soon as enough of his men believed in the inevitability of defeat, it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. A soldier would run, believing the battle lost, and then the soldier next to him would have to run too, for fear of being overwhelmed without his comrade's support. And so on down the line it would go, until the Legio rolled up like a carpet.

Centurion Lucinius Novatianus drew in a deep breath and let loose another ear-piercing shriek from his whistle. His voice was hoarse from shouting orders, but he raised it again, unwilling to concede something so trivial as his voice to the enemy. "Six! Aquilonia! Are you going to run from these uncultured animals? Are you going to run from half-naked men who paint their faces like common whores? You are men of Imperia - men of the Empire! We fight - and die - for the Empress! Stand fast, and trust in your brother!"

At this point, Lucinius did not expect his words to have the needed impact. At best, and with no small amount of luck, perhaps he could get the men to hold the line. It would be brutal and ugly, and the legate's orders would be impossible, but it was better than breaking and losing the entire flank. His men were still shaken, and the shock of another charge would surely dislodge them from the line.

Inspiration can come from the unlikeliest of places. His words rang hollow with most of the men, who were too concerned with fighting for their lives against the frenzied assault of the barbarian warriors. Out of the corner of his eye, however, Lucinius saw young Legionary Fenius Memor. The boy was perhaps sixteen or seventeen and barely filled out his armour. It was Memor's expression, however, that worried Lucinius. He knew that look. It was the look that heroes had, moments before getting themselves killed in a naive display of senseless bravery. There was a teary determination in the boy's eyes, and Lucinius knew that young Memor had heard every word of his rallying cry. The veteran centurion moved to stop Memor, but it was too late.

With a throat-rending cry, the boy tore himself from his position at the back of the line and flung himself at a grizzled, axe-wielding barbarian. The more seasoned warrior deflected Memor's impetuous lunge with almost casual ease, smacking the young legionary with the haft of his axe. The true impact of Memor's foolish gesture, however, was yet to be felt.

Plinius Aelianus saw the boy lunge out of position ahead of him. He wasn't the smartest soldier who ever fought, nor was he the deadliest, but he was dependable. His hearing wasn't very good either, and thinking he had once again missed an order, he followed young Memor's lead. Being a dependable sort of fellow, he dutifully repeated that order he'd missed. "Charge! Charge!" he yelled, "Charge!"

Nepius Canio, a few meters down the line, heard the call. "Charge!" Canio surged forward, only seconds after seeing the Memor boy do the same. The man beside him saw Memor too and followed suit. Maccius Regilus echoed the call and dived into the fray alongside his brothers-in-arms. Soon, the entire unit was rushing headlong into the barbarian lines. If each man was asked why he was now charging forward, each would have answered, "I thought we were going to die. But the man next to me was charging straight at them, so I guess we weren't doing so bad after all."

Centurion Lucinius stared, momentarily dumbfounded. His unit was on the verge of breaking before the barbarians' ferocity, and yet now they were screaming in unison and throwing themselves at the enemy with abandon. Raising his sword in the air, he shouted every pithy encouragement he could think of before plunging into the thick of battle himself. The barbarians were stunned by the sudden reprisal, and a hammer-wielding warrior was easy pickings for a brutal stab of Lucinius' blade. After dislodging his sword from the dying man, the centurion spared a quick glance at his comrades.

All around him, the legionaries of Aquilonia were surging forward, a tide of red and purple cloth and dull metal tools of war. The barbarians had shattered under the unexpected counter-attack, and his men were cutting them down as they fled. The legate's orders to advance were still clutched in his left hand, and as he looked down at the crumpled, sweat-stained parchment, he saw Memor. The young boy of sixteen or seventeen stared up at Lucinius, unblinking and lifeless, an axe buried in his chest.

He still had that look on his face, the look heroes had.
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drakensis
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Re: [Vignette] Conquest of the North

Post by drakensis »

Good scene
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