Travis Starnes
patreon
The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 25
🕑 Added 2024-09-21 15:00:04 +0000 UTCPort Vikhavn
Liu Yi looked over his fleet and was finally satisfied as the dying light of the sun cast everything in a soft orange glow. It had been a hard several weeks to get enough of his damaged vessels back in shape after the mauling they took on the attempts to break into the Westerners’ port, but they had finally gotten the job done.
Five of the ships had to be beached and torn down for scraps, but that had given them just enough parts to get the rest of his fleet in sailing shape.
He wasn’t happy that he had to give up on this port or that the Westerners had managed to thwart him at every turn. He’d lost countless men to the forts and natives and could not lose any more if he was to make the attack on the Westerners’ base of supply with any chance of success.
“I want to position the Celestial Dragon squadron and the Iron Phoenix squadron on either side of the outer island,” he said to two of his four remaining squadron commanders. “You’ll form a blockade, cutting off the westerners’ escape routes. They are to stay on this side of the island, clear of the enemy forts. Your sole responsibility is to keep their ships hemmed in, unable to sail out or return to their homeland. It will still be weeks before the messenger boat I sent will arrive home, and well into winter before we can expect any reinforcements, so you will have to make do with what you have.”
Sub-Commanders De and Xin both nodded their understanding. They’d had discussions about this in private already, but he wanted all of his commanders to understand the responsibilities and duties of the other squadrons, which should allow them to adapt as necessary.
The plan was not perfect. It left him only twenty ships for the remainder of his mission, which was not going to be enough. But it was what he was going to have to do. The last thing he wanted was to assault one of their ports only to find a large fleet sailing up behind him. And if he failed, he wanted at least this port dealt with so the commanders who came after him could continue on without worry.
“Now, I know…” Liu started to say when a shout from the crow’s nest cut him off.
“Enemy Sail!”
Liu pushed past the sub-commanders and moved to the railing, his eyes straining against the fading light. It took a moment to pick out the dark shapes against the trees and shimmer coming off the water, but they were there.
“They move sooner than I expected. That bodes well for us,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Return to your ships and form lines. I want to catch them head on as they cross the line of the outer island.”
The commanders saluted and hurried to the launches that would take them back to their own flagships. He could guess what they were doing. It was unclear how much support their vessels had, trapped in the small port, or how much supplies, but they had been bottled up for several months now. If they were looking to make a run for it now, it meant they were shorter than he’d anticipated.
The timing suggested they were making a run for it, and not a foolish attack. They’d picked the moment where there was enough light for their pilots to guide them through the channel, which now had the added danger of all the sunken ships, but late enough that it would be dark shortly after they got on the seas, making their escape easier. Especially since this was set to be another moonless night.
Liu did not plan on giving them that opportunity.
Times for fleet actions were much slower than land battles, which played havoc with a man’s nerves, but did allow time for consideration and adjustment.
As his commanders returned to their squadrons and the ships finally began to move, Liu watched the enemy, his curiosity growing. He knew they had some thirty or forty ships of their own all stacked inside the estuary, and yet they’d chosen only eight ships to send out on this escape attempt.
Perhaps it wasn’t an escape attempt. Perhaps they were sending ships to run home and call for support. If that was the case, why would they not send out the smaller ships that made up a third of their remaining fleet? They couldn’t take on his ships in battle, but he’d seen how fast they were.
If running were the plan, why take the larger warships instead?
There was a trick here, but he wasn’t seeing it. Not that it mattered, he would deal with these ships, leaving the enemy weaker and in the same position as they were before.
The westerners had clearly seen him, veering to hug the coast as they cleared the protective bubble of their forts, keeping their broadsides pointed at his own ships.
As if in answer to that thought, a flash of light erupted from the lead Western ship, followed by a thunderous boom. Liu barely had time to brace himself before the cannonball whistled overhead, splashing into the water beyond his flagship.
“Return fire!” Liu bellowed.
The air filled with smoke and the deafening roar of cannon fire as both fleets exchanged volleys. The breeze was light, so it was taking extra time for the haze to clear which, coupled with the almost completely faded light, meant he had to strain and wait for an opportunity to see the results of the fire on the enemy.
The westerners, for their part, showed what made them a dangerous opponent. They may be lesser in number, but they were not without teeth. One of his ships was already listing heavily to port, water pouring in through a gaping hole in its hull. Two others had taken significant damage, their crews scrambling to bail them out as the carpenters tried to repair the holes and keep them afloat.
Liu looked back to the enemy fleet. The smoke had cleared enough for him to make out his own effectiveness, and what he saw shocked him.
The Western fleet appeared largely unscathed.
“Impossible,” Liu muttered.
He’d been assured that his weapons were a match for the Westerners. Yes, they seemed to have better training that allowed their gunners to be faster and more accurate, but that was the demon at the heart of the conscription system. There was never enough time to train his men to the level he wanted them.
This, however, was something else. He’d sunk enemy ships in the past, so how was it possible for them to be completely untouched. His men had been improving in their gunnery with every battle, and hadn’t missed this badly even in the first skirmish.
Liu called for his looking glass, snatching it from a nearby officer’s hands. He trained it on the nearest Western ship, studying it closely as it maneuvered through the chaos of battle, with both fleets still firing. It took a moment, but he got the answer. It was … ingenious.
“Chains,” he breathed, lowering the glass. “They’ve wrapped their ships in thick chains!”
The clever Westerners had found a way to armor their vessels, causing Liu’s cannonballs to bounce harmlessly off their sides. It was so simple, he wondered why no one had ever thought to do that.
It did explain why only eight ships. It would have taken nearly all the chain they had stored up and even on the other ships to come up with the amount of chain he saw. This was almost certainly all they could muster.
“Order all ships, aim for their masts,” he called out to the signalmen. “The chains can’t protect them there. If we can’t sink them, we can at least cripple them.”
“Commander, those shots are going to be … difficult to make in these conditions,” the man said, almost cowering as he did.
“I’m aware of that, you idiot,” Liu said sharply. “It’s also the only thing we can do. Order the Iron Phoenix squadron, I want them to prepare to try and bring the enemy to grapple.”
It was a dangerous play. The sun had gone down and nearly all of the light with it. Trying a boarding maneuver against undamaged opponents in the dark was nearly certain death, but he couldn’t let them get away. He would waste shell and shot, but if he could take out a few masts, he could cripple enough ships that the remainder would be forced to slow to support them.
Or abandon them, but the Westerners had been slow to do that in the past.
The enemy, however, was having none of his attempts to get in close. It didn’t help the wind was north-west, giving them a speed advantage as they curved away from his men, tearing into the front of the squadron as they did, able to shoot broadsides down their throats as his ships tried to close.
“Order them to pull back. I want to fleet to sail out southwest, see if we can’t force those bastards to sail against the wind and give us a chance to fun up on them instead,” Liu said.
It would also make them turn enough to disengage their broadsides, and give his injured ships a short breather to repair before the firing began again in earnest.
As Liu’s fleet maneuvered southwest, Liu continued to watch the enemy, straining to pierce the darkness that had swallowed the sea. Occasionally, one fleet or the other was lit up as they turned just enough to unleash a broadside, the bright red and orange gunpowder illuminating their ships for a moment. Thankfully, in the dark, even the westerners’ accuracy worsened, letting only a few shells find their mark.
Suddenly, a cry from the crow’s nest shattered the tense silence.
“More enemy ships to the south!”
Liu whirled around, training his glass in the direction the man was pointing. It was hard to see with only sunlight, but finally he could see what his man saw, make out the faint glimmer of lanterns on deck. A second Western squadron was emerging from the estuary, making for the far side of the outer island.
“Damn,” Liu muttered under his breath as he realized what had happened.
The initial attack had been nothing more than a feint, a distraction to allow the remaining Western fleet to slip away under the cover of night.
It would probably have worked too, had the captains not lit lanterns to see their way clearly through the inlet and out into the open sea. A necessity, to be sure, but one that had doomed them.
“All ships, change course! Intercept those ships as soon as they cross the outer island!”
Liu considered his options as the fleet curved more south, tacking against the wind. The chain-wrapped boats posed a greater threat, but if he could engage the newly revealed ships in close combat, they would be forced to shoot into their comrades in order to hit his ships, nullifying their advantage.
“I want our ships to close the distance as quickly as possible. We’ll force them into close quarters where they can’t risk firing without hitting their own vessels.”
The signalman relayed the orders to the rest of the fleet through lantern signals.
The enemy saw what he was doing and tried to run, turning further south and slightly west, probably hoping to get out into open ocean, which would force Liu a choice of chase and leave the port unguarded, or let them go.
Liu was not giving up the chase. This was the entire western fleet, aside from the eight ships following him. He could come back and deal with it at his leisure once these were dealt with.
“Push harder!” Liu shouted to his crew. “We cannot let them escape!”
Not that they could do much to go faster. The wind was the wind. Liu just didn’t want them escaping. If they could close the gap before the Westerners reached open water, they stood a chance of crippling this squadron before the armored ships caught up to them.
The chase was on, and he was actually gaining ground. He didn’t know if the enemy was panicking or just confused in the dark, but they were sailing more into the wind than they should, sometimes even turning southeast directly into it before veering back south.
He’d almost passed the center of the outer island when a sailor’s voice pulled him out of the total focus he had on the enemy ships retreating south.
“Commander! There’s something in the water!”
Liu turned, irritated. “Just ignore it.”
Still, his men were not complete incompetents. If whatever they saw was concerning enough to bother him with it, then it was worth looking at himself. Liu went to the far rail and peered over the side.
He did not expect to see what he did. Dozens of small native canoes bobbed in the water around his fleet, barely visible in the dim starlight. Even as he watched, one of his ships barreled over a canoe, not seeing it in the dark. Why would the natives have pushed so many of their boats out here, especially empty? He couldn’t see a single man in any of them.
“Ignore them,” Liu ordered. “Focus on the Western ships. We can’t let them—”
He paused mid-sentence, something nagging at the back of his mind. Liu leaned further over the railing, squinting into the darkness. The canoes weren’t empty, there was something in them, but it was hard to make out. Some kind of cloth was laid over something in the bottom center of each of the canoes. He looked from boat to boat until he found one where the cloth had blown back, revealing what was underneath, only to get more confused.
Barrels. There were several barrels in each canoe.
It took a moment for his brain to catch up, the sudden unexpected appearance throwing him as he tried to think not only why there would be boats just floating out here, but filled with barrels.
There was one obvious answer, which took much too long for him to arrive at.
Before he could put the thought to words, a flicker of light caught his eye. Off to starboard, a small flame appeared in yet another canoe, this one distant enough that he hadn’t seen it until the fire drew his attention. Liu watched, frozen, as a flaming arrow arced through the night sky, trailing sparks in its wake.
Time seemed to slow as the arrow descended, its target all too clear. Liu’s mouth opened, a warning forming on his lips, but it was too late.
“Order the fleet…”
The arrow struck the blanket on a canoe close to the ship opposite him, which must have been covered in some kind of flammable tar or pitch. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the cloth burst into flame.
The barrels caught. With a deafening roar, the canoe exploded in a massive fireball, engulfing the front part of the ship, sending flaming boards off in the distance. Enough flame that the barrels of powder on the gundeck of the ship caught light and began to explode, reaching the magazine in a heartbeat as the chain reaction ripped the ship to pieces in a much more massive fireball.
The flaming debris rained down, setting off more canoes. More ships. Barrel after barrel detonated, each blast more violent than the last. The sea around Liu’s fleet erupted into a maelstrom of fire and destruction.
“Abandon ship! All hands, abandon…”
His words were cut short as a massive blast tore through his flagship. The deck buckled beneath his feet, throwing him against the railing. As he struggled to regain his footing, Liu caught a final glimpse of his once-proud fleet. Ships were breaking apart, their hulls shattered by the relentless explosions. Men screamed, their cries quickly swallowed by the inferno.
In those last moments, as fire consumed everything around him, Liu understood. The Westerners had outmaneuvered him completely. Their escape had been a ruse, drawing his fleet into a deadly trap.
The realization brought no comfort as a final, thunderous explosion engulfed Liu’s ship as the powder magazine below him caught light.
***
Eastern Germania
Ky walked along row after row of dirt mounds, waiting to be wheelbarrowed away to emplacements and protective build up around gun emplacements, or just taken to the rear and dumped, and looked down the long scar being dug into the ground.
The trenches weren’t a solid line, but a series of lines, some forward and some a little further back, the in-between ground filled with pit traps and coils of wire making them all but impassable without hard work, and vulnerable to flanking fire as they did so, along with some buried surprises.
Even with the temperatures starting to cool, the men in the trenches had their shirts off and were perspiring heavily as they dug, the new style spades making the work easier, if not easy.
“Shore up those sides! We need this trench to last, not collapse at the first sign of rain,” Ky said, pointing at a section.
Some of the men still didn’t see the benefit of wooden supports to hold back the hard-packed earth, as if it would stay hard pack once the first serious rain came through.
The men didn’t argue, however. They only got the needed supplies and began the work. They were good men, but like soldiers across the centuries, they would take shortcuts if you let them. Thankfully, they didn’t need much hand-holding once they were reminded of their duties. It hadn’t taken long for them to learn how to become expert trenchers.
“I have to question the wisdom of this strategy,” Bomilcar said, catching up to him and falling in step. “We’re sacrificing our greatest advantage. Mobility is what won us the war with Carthage, now we’re digging holes in the ground to hide in?”
“This isn’t the same war that we fought with Carthage. We’ll maintain mobile reserves and cavalry, but we can’t afford to keep paying the price we’ve been paying for our victories. The cost in men has been too high.”
“But surely…” Bomilcar began, only to be cut off by Ky’s raised hand.
“We’ve been over this. We know the enemy has completely reinforced and even managed to add more troops than they had when we first made contact. Meanwhile, we’ve been struggling to keep up with our losses.”
“Not anymore. The last two legions have finished outfitting and integrating the new recruits and should be here in a day or two. Admittedly we won’t see brand new legions form before the end of winter, but that should at least get us close to their size.”
“Even with all that, why would they attack us where we’re strong? They could just go around us.”
“Not that easily. We’re all but backed up into the mountains to the south and we have enough centuries there with locals that know every goat path and vantage point, we could lock up a much larger force. If they go north, there are rivers that will slow them down. This is the clear shot into Germania, which is why I wanted to keep pushing them back. This is defensible terrain,” Ky said and then made a placating motion as he predicted Bomilcar’s next response. “Yes, I know they could go further north or south and find other paths. If they do, we’ll follow them. But I don’t think they will. South is incredibly mountainous, making resupply harder and north is incredibly thick forests, which will inhibit them. This is the best type of ground for them to attack over. But if they move, then we will move with them. If they wait long enough to move, we will have new legions to send out and set up new trenches, blocking them further.”
“You turn the continent into a fortress.”
“Essentially.”
“But then how do we give chase when the enemy is repulsed and flees? There are the rows and rows of this new wire, the furrows dug in the ground, the stakes, and these new boxes filled with gunpowder that explode when stepped on.”
“Mines,” Ky added.
It was something Ky had given to Hortensius months ago but had been backburnered for the fuses. In concept, a box filled with shrapnel and gunpowder and a pin fuse on top that ignited when pressure was applied was a good, although basic, mine. And it was impressive when it worked.
However, it had a bad habit of not going off, only exploding about half the time it was stepped on, especially if it was buried too deeply, which was an easy mistake to make. Ky just hoped that with a fifty-percent success rate, if enough were seeded, they would still be deadly enough to force soldiers back.
Bomilcar had been right about there being limited space they could cover with trenches, with the men they had. Recruits were beginning to pour in and that would change, and the geography of eastern Europe lent itself to this kind of warfare, but there would be gaps, and this, hopefully, would serve to fill those gaps.
“Yes. They are impressive, and I can see how burying them along our flanks will help funnel the enemy where they want them, but it further limits the mobility of our men, especially forward. When they run, how are we to give chase?”
“That’s not the goal, Bomilcar. This isn’t the same kind of war we’ve fought before. With the weapons they possess, mobility isn’t our primary advantage anymore.”
“Then what purpose does it serve?”
“Combined with our new artillery ammunition, even our slower-firing weapons will be devastating. Their artillery will be far less effective, at least until they figure out fuses of their own, and volley fire won’t have the same impact. In time, there are solutions around this, but I hope to have new weapon systems in place by then.”
“I am also concerned we are spread too thin along this line to be able to put enough fire down to keep them from overrunning us.”
“Possibly. It is a danger of this strategy, until we get more men in the fight, but we’re nearing winter and their supply lines are very long, so I hope they slow the tempo as the weather changes. But that is why I have Hortensius making all this wire and why we are laying it down so thick. It will be slow to pick their way through it, and we’ve pre-sighted all of our artillery, which is firing without line of sight and in a deep arch, since with fused shell, plunging fire will be more effective. This will have the added benefit of limiting their ability to conduct counter battery fire, since they need more of a direct shot, and pushing their barrels high enough will cause most of their solid shot to just bury itself in the ground unless it gets a direct hit.”
“Maybe. I still think…” Bomilcar started to say as a mounted rider came tearing toward them.
His lictore were nervous, as they were every time someone came riding hard at their protectee, but Ky held up a hand, holding them in place. He had spotted this man some time ago and watched him come in through the drone feed.
“Sirs,” the messenger said, pulling up hard and saluting them. “The Optio wanted me to report that a portion of the enemy have broken off and turned north.”
Bomilcar gave Ky a ‘see’ look, but Ky ignored him and said, “The remainder are still coming this way though, yes?”
“Yes, Consul. They had another group join them shortly before I was sent to deliver the report. They had a large number of horses with them and the Optio thinks that was what they had stopped to wait for. There were signs of their breaking the camp they’ve been in and starting their march west, although they hadn’t left yet while I was still there.”
“Horses?”
“Yes, sir. They mounted up several groups that had clearly been infantry, maybe seven hundred in total, and rode out with a large part of their cavalry. They also had a large number of horses loaded with supplies but no men, along with three smaller cannons that looked to be light enough for a single horse to pull quickly.”
“I see. Thank you. You did well. Go get some food and rest.”
“Thank you, Consul.”
“Exactly as I said. What do you want to bet the extra horses were for carrying bridging material? Mounting infantry on horses for rapid travel is clever. They will get behind our lines before we can march men to stop them.”
“Dragoons,” Ky said.
“What?”
“Mounting men for travel but deploying as infantry is called dragoons, and it’s very concerning.”
“Ahh. It’s still a concern. They will get around us.”
“Not entirely,” Ky said.
“I’m not sure I’m sold on the effectiveness of this boat of yours.”
“I know, but I need you to trust me. It will stop them. It’s also not alone. There is a century of infantry with it.”
“Versus seven hundred men, plus cavalry and some cannons. They will not last long.”
“Trust me, my friend. This will work,” Ky said.
Bomilcar made a non-committal noise but dropped it, walking further down the trench, watching the men work.
Ky could understand his skepticism. They’d all seen what cannons could do to traditional wooden ships. Conceptually, the idea of armoring the ships would make them able to resist that, but knowing it and believing it were two different things. That, combined with the idea of static trench warfare, was a lot to throw at a man, even one as smart as Bomilcar.
Besides, Ky had his own worries.
“How did they arrive at dragoons so quickly? So far, the only advancement outside of the original, primitive cannons they gave to the Carthaginians have been copied from us. From the weapons themselves to the tactics they use with them. How did they make the leap to dragoons? We’ve never used them, either in this war or the previous, and it took centuries between the first firearm-using infantry and mounting them for transport.”
“While that is true, Commander, that time period was also a rapid development of firearms in itself, and the first uses of dragoon tactics corresponded with pure firearm-armed infantry in under a decade. Prior to that, it had been mixed units, mostly pikemen and arquebusiers. The idea most likely originated from eastern mounted archers, which the Chinese were in contact with in the original histories. It is not out of the realm of possibility that the idea would have been organic, without any additional knowledge.”
“Maybe,” Ky subvocalized.
But he wasn’t sure. Something was bothering him.
***
Rome, Italy
Lucilla sat on the dais at the front of the ancient temple of Venus Genetrix, looking out at the faces that packed the forum, from portico to portico. The space was much different than the carvings of her ancestors, with signs of its previous occupiers everywhere. Although structurally the same, much of the finery and detail had been updated along more garish Carthaginian sensibilities, although elements of its Roman originators from centuries past still remained. She had to admit, it made for an interesting space that was quite unique, and served well to mirror Italia’s complex past.
There was a noticeable feeling of anticipation in the air as nobles and elites from across Italia filled the space, jammed packed in the open courtyard and porticos on either side. Only the steps of the temple itself, which now served Carthaginian gods that were still predominantly worshiped in the region instead of Venus to whom it was built. Lucilla could feel their expectations and fears. She didn’t blame them. This was a historic moment and with everything else happening in the world at the moment, one that could very well determine the futures of every person watching. She was just one dignitary on the dais, and not the current center of attention, but she knew there were eyes on her and straightened her back, trying to project an air of calm authority.
She was happy that Llassar had a place next to her. Aside from being a comfort, it also served as a reminder that Britannia was not just the new Roman state, but a multicultural society made up of people from across the continent and its islands. Along with them sat an array of dignitaries from Germania, Gaul, Hispania, and Egypt, along with regional delegates from Italia itself. This was the first time they were all together in a unified whole, and she was proud to see it, knowing the work it took to get all of these different peoples, with their own worries and goals, together.
Only the addition of Egypt made her nervous. She continued to send missives to the Ptolemies for them to join the alliance and take part in the fighting, which only seemed fair after her own people freed them and helped put these very people back into power. They continued to dodge, hedge, and all but ignore her. Considering how much closer to the east they were, and that they may become a subject of attack just like the Greeks, she would have thought they would at least see how it was in their own best interest to join, but so far, they refused to even acknowledge the question.
Standing at the center of the dais was Gaian Hasdrubalis, the current mayor of Rome and a leader in Italian politics overall. Even before the fall of Carthage, he had been a notable figure, a merchant known to smooth over problems, a hard negotiator.
His rise to power following the fall of Carthage had been nothing short of astounding. He’d leveraged many of the friendships and contacts across the peninsula to shift himself from not only a businessman but a power broker. It helped that he had chosen no sides during the preceding years, dealing with both the small rebel movement that formed as it looked like Italia might be freed and the Carthaginians themselves.
It still worried Lucilla that he’d been so willing to work with his overlords while professing a desire to see his countrymen free, but she did not get to choose who these people wanted to lead them. He also wasn’t all bad. They’d corresponded often, especially over this last year, and she’d come to know him as both crafty and genuine in his desire for his people’s welfare and his own wealth.
She’d take one if she could get the other.
Gaian gestured for the crowd to calm down so his words could be heard. The courtyard had been designed to carry sound well, especially down the porticos, which offered shade and better hearing, making them the preferred spot for those who could hold it.
It said something about Gaian’s personal connection to his people that they responded so quickly to his request, a hush falling over the crowd.
“People of Italia. Today marks a momentous occasion in our long history. Today, we stand on the threshold of a new era. An era forged from the trials of our past and the hopes of our future. No longer are we separate regions, competing against each other for scraps, but as peoples. A unified Italia, brought together from the mainland, from Sicilia, and from Sardinia, together as one.”
He paused as a smattering of applause rippled through the audience.
“From the ashes of our fallen overlords, we have risen anew. No longer will we be pawns in the games of empires. For too long, we were the servants of other men, who used our lands, our homes, and our people to further their own will. And yet, in spite of that, the spirit of Italia never wavered. Today, we claim our rightful place as a force to be reckoned with in the Middle Sea. Our people are proud, strong, and free. Together, we will build cities that rival the glories of our ancestors. We will create works of art that will be marveled at for generations to come. We will be the bedrock of a new future, for all other people to look to and admire.
Again he paused as the assembled people cheered for him. These were the rich and powerful of Italia, and he was throwing them what they wanted: wealth and power.
Lucilla knew what was coming next, however, because it had been part of her agreement with Gaian for her support in making unification happen.
“But make no mistake,” he said, his tone growing somber. “This unity comes at a price. Even now, as we celebrate, dark clouds gather on our horizon. Greece falters before the eastern menace. Armies march through Germania, bringing fire and sword to our very doorstep. And while we have been here, arguing amongst ourselves, trying to come together for this auspicious moment, the blood of others soaked the land to ensure we had that time. You have all heard the rumors, the stories of what is happening beyond our borders. War has returned. For too long, we have allowed others to bear its burden. While Britannia, Hispania, and Germania bled, we stood idle. I say no more. That time has passed. The time has come for Italia to take its place alongside those who have defended us already, those who freed us from our Carthaginian overlords. With unification comes a new obligation, which we will take up as we join our allies in the Western Alliance.”
There was applause again, but much less than before, interspersed with an equal amount of talk, which showed that, as popular as unification was, joining the alliance was contested.
“I know this is a concern,” Gaian said, addressing the talk directly. “I can promise that this is not taken lightly, or on a whim. The Enemy is nearly at our gates and has shown they want to install themselves as our new overlords, and I say no. No longer will we stand aside and serve the whims of others.”
The clapping returned. Still not as enthusiastic as earlier, but with less chatter. He wasn’t going to turn the crowd so easily, but it showed that the dissatisfaction was not hard set.
“In the coming days, we will call upon the strength of our people. Sons of Italia will take up arms, not for conquest, but for the defense of all we hold dear. This is the cost of our freedom, the price of our unity. But we do not stand alone in this fight. Britannia, Hispania, Gaul, Scandia, and Germania have shown us the meaning of true friendship. To them, we make this solemn vow: as you have stood with us, so shall we stand with you. The might of a unified Italia joins the Western Alliance!”
The cheer this time was much louder, the side talk almost non-existent. That didn’t mean support, but Gaian was a good speaker and good at getting people riled up. Lucilla had always found that the mob was fickle and easily swayed, but also short in its memory.
“Do not hear those promises from me. The empress of Britannia and the driving force behind the defense of the west, Lucilla Germanicus, was kind enough to travel all the way here to speak with us today. Your majesty,” he said, stepping back and extending his hand in invitation.
Lucilla rose, giving Gaius a smile and slight nod as she passed, taking his place at the center of the dais.
“Thank you, Magistrate Gaius. I cannot tell you how proud I am of the work you and everyone else has done to make this happen. I dream a dream of my ancestors, of a new, stronger Italia. I stand before you not just as the Empress of Britannia, but as a daughter of Rome. To be here, in this sacred place, surrounded by our shared history, fills me with profound emotion. For too long, we have been separated by more than just the sea. Today, we bridge that divide. We are family once again, bound by blood, by culture, and by a common purpose.”
That drew applause, as Lucilla knew it would. She had talked to Llassar about her speech beforehand, knowing that it would be a good line, but concerned about highlighting the Roman connection, which could be seen as insulting to the other parts of Britannia. He agreed it was worth the trouble the line would cause, to get support from the Italians, and fix it later in the speech.
“The west is a family worth fighting for, united in our resolve to defend our homes, our traditions, and our very way of life against those who would see it destroyed. The invaders from the east threaten not just our lands, but the very essence of who we are. Britannia has already committed its blood and treasure to this cause. Roman, Caledonian, and Ulaid alike have offered up the pride of a generation, their best and brightest, to ensure the west stands. Even now, my husband leads our armies in Germania, holding the line against the eastern hordes. Every day, brave men and women sacrifice their lives so that we may continue to live in freedom. But this alliance is about more than just war. When the battles are won and peace returns, the bonds we forge today will endure. Together, we will build a future brighter than any of us could achieve alone.”
She paused again, letting that settle in. The crowd was strangely silent, maybe considering how serious things were finally.
“From this day forward, Britannia and Italia stand as one. I give you my solemn vow: Britannia’s strength is Italia’s strength. Our resources, our knowledge, our determination – all of it stands ready to support you in your time of need, just as we know you will stand with us. The road ahead will not be easy. There will be hardships and sacrifices. But I have faith in the spirit of our people. Of your people. Together, we will not just survive this storm, but make a future that belongs to us. A future of freedom, prosperity, and peace!”
As Lucilla finished, the forum erupted in applause. The sound was deafening as Gaius joined her, shaking her hand. With it, was a lifeline for the West, with a large infusion of manpower going into the next year of fighting.
