Travis Starnes
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The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2024-07-04 14:00:03 +0000 UTCGual
Lucilla tried not to let her annoyance and exhaustion show as she listened to the representatives from Italia.
It had been a busy few weeks, even busier once Ky left the week before, whom she missed desperately. Worse, she knew this was just the beginning and she would likely not see him again for a long time. The last war had been mostly fought at, or at least near, home. This new one, even Carthage would be considered close. Ky had sent along the reports of clashes in Greece and Sarmatia, which they hoped would be the edge of the incursion into Europe, as Ky sometimes called the continent.
If the war went well, they would likely have to fight even further, to the far east, that is, by Sophus’s estimate, putting Anatolia as the halfway point, very far away indeed.
Which meant Ky would be a world away from her for years to come. At least she had Titus, whom she longed to get back to. Thankfully, that would not be nearly as long. While she would have wanted to return home as soon as the summit ended and Ky headed for Germania, it was her duty to stay. At least for a time. With this many representatives and leaders from nearly every major polity in the known world, it would be foolish of her to not take the opportunity to meet with each, both individually and in groups, to strengthen relationships that were strong and hopefully build on the weaker ones, hoping to turn them around and gain their support for the alliance.
It looked like it might be working with Greece, who was still frustratingly segmented and stubborn but who had to take reports of attacks on their Anatolian colonies seriously. None had committed yet, but they had begun to ask about the possibility of alliance support in their defense, which was a step.
The Ptolemies, however, were maddening. A dozen meetings, all ending exactly as they’d begun with no progress. They seemed to be born with the ability, or inability, to commit to anything. They demurred, obfuscated, hedged, and delayed every time. They were unfailingly polite about it, always thanking Britannia for helping free them from Carthaginian rule, but words of thanks were about as far as their gratitude seemed to carry.
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean when you say close,” Lucilla said, keeping her face neutral.
“I apologize for my lack of specificity, your majesty. Unfortunately, this is an area that is hard to quantify,” the lead negotiator said, a man from Rome whom Ramirus and Medb said was one of the wealthiest men on the peninsula.
“Try.”
“All of the major tribes on the peninsula and northern Italia are in agreement with the unification your government has set up.”
“I hear a but coming,” Lucilla said.
“Sadly, you do. But the tribes in Sardinia are proving to be a challenge. They are resistant to the idea of unification and want Italia to distance itself from Britannia specifically and the Western Alliance as a whole.”
“Did they give reasoning for their disagreement? Surely they stand to benefit from your unification. Considering their island status and that the alliance controls most of the shipping in the middle sea, they stand to gain more than the tribes on the peninsula itself.”
“Some, but none that were believable.”
“Do what you can, but if they refuse to join, Italia can still function and prosper without them. What’s important now is that we move quickly. The peace we’ve enjoyed is ending, and war is on the horizon once more.”
“I heard your speech, but it sounded as if we still did not know how that would end.”
“Things are moving fast. The easterners have attacked Greek colonies in Anatolia and villages in Sarmatia. The war we warned of is here.”
The representatives looked at each other, worried. “Your majesty, in the event of an eastern attack on Italia, can we expect military support from Britannia?”
They could read a map. If the easterners attacked through Greece, then Italia would be their next target should the Greeks fall. And the Italians saw the Greeks turn down help from the alliance.”
“Britannia will do what it can to help its allies, but our primary focus must be on the members of the western alliance. Once Italia is unified and joins the alliance, you will be able to participate in that defense and gain the protections it offers.”
“But what if we are attacked before unification is complete?”
“Then you must rally your people and defend yourselves as best you can. Britannia will provide what assistance we can spare, but our resources will be stretched thin. The sooner you unify and join the alliance, the sooner you will have access to the full might of our combined forces.”
“We understand the urgency, Your Majesty,” the lead negotiator said. “We will do our best to address the Sardinian issue and send envoys as soon as possible.”
“See that you do. With the war starting, Britannia will be pulling most of our security forces out of Italia in the coming weeks.”
“But, given our proximity to Greece…”
“I am aware of how concerning that is, but you must also understand our position. We are spread thin, and our forces are needed elsewhere. The war is here, and we must respond to defend the alliance we have built.”
“But if Greece falls, we will be next. Surely you can spare some troops to secure our eastern border?”
“I cannot make any promises. Our commanders are still assessing the situation and determining where our forces are most needed. But I will discuss it with them and see what can be done.”
The representatives looked at each other, clearly unsatisfied with her response.
“Your Majesty, we are grateful for all Britannia has done for us, but we need more assurances.”
“Then you have work in front of you. I know this is difficult to accept, and I promise you it is also difficult for me to have to say. I have pushed for Italian independence and unification since the end of the war and have tried to give your people every opportunity to reach those goals, but my obligations must come first. I will be returning to Britannia shortly. In the meantime, I urge you to resolve the issue with Sardinia and send envoys to join the alliance. Time is running out.”
None of the men were happy with her answers, but at least they finally seemed to understand the urgency of the situation.
***
Devnum
“I don’t care what you have to do, get it done,” Medb said to the man dressed in riding clothes, wearing no identifying marks or rank.
Before the man could respond, there was a knock on the door and one of the praetorians stuck his head in the door.
“I said we were not to be disturbed,” Medb snapped.
“I understand, my lady,” the guard said. “But the Praetorian Daelith is here. He says he needs to see you soon, but that it’s a personal matter between the two of you.”
Medb ran through dozens of names in her head, and Daelith, which sounded Caledonian to her ear, was not one she knew.
“Go out the side,” Medb told the man in riding clothes, pointing to a small door in the side of her office. “And don’t come back until you have something for me.”
The man grimaced, but nodded and left. Medb then waved the outside guard, who opened the door and let the stranger in.
“I don’t know you,” Medb said pointedly once the door was closed.
“No, my lady. I am sorry for the deception. I was sent by Tribune Claudius, who asked me to stop and see you, but keep my meeting with you quiet. It seemed like the best way to explain my meeting with you.”
Claudius she did know, at least by name. He’d been a low-level praetorian who had exemplified himself several times during and after the war, and raised through the ranks rapidly following the war. She’d never met him, but knew he was one of the Empress’s favorites.
“I see. I assume he sent you with a message then.”
“No, my lady. He thought it best that I not write it down either, as … if it became known, it could cause problems in some parts of the empire.”
“I see. And what is this urgent message?”
“The centurion is concerned. He’s seeing a significant growth in unrest in Carthage itself and the region as a whole, as well as a growth of criminal organizations, who seem to have an uncanny ability to always avoid his patrols or raids.”
“We knew it would be a problem, and security is a praetorian concern. What does he want me to do about it?”
“It’s not the security problems themselves, my lady, but what seems to be driving them. Claudius is concerned about the decisions being made by Governor Eoghan, who seems to be making not only the wrong decisions, but decisions that are making the situation progressively worse.”
Medb frowned. She knew Eoghan, a former Ulaid senator, and one who was uncomfortably close with Senator Fiacha, the exiled traitor. She’d never found anything that suggested Eoghan had been involved with Fiacha, but their closeness had always made Medb uncomfortable.
“In what way?”
“He’s favoring some factions over others, and is too friendly, turning a blind eye to elements that we believe are fronts for criminal organizations in the city, while taking harsh measures against others with similar connections. It is the favored groups that we have had trouble catching in their actions, always avoiding us. We don’t want to blame the governor or his agents directly, or at least not openly, but the coincidence has not gone unnoticed. Beyond that, the favoritism he has shown has caused the factions getting harsher treatment to scale up violence to counter their opponents. The city has become a powder barrel.”
Medb leaned back, crossing her arms, thinking. Daelith began to shift from foot to foot, uncomfortable with her focus on him as she processed the information.
“Anything else?” she finally asked.
“No, my lady. That’s all I was told to relay. Tribune Claudius wanted you to be aware of the situation, given your ... history.”
She crooked an eyebrow at him, but did not comment. The statement could be considered either an insult or just an acknowledgement of her history with her countrymen.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You’re dismissed.”
The man bowed and hurried out. For several minutes, Medb didn’t move. She stared at the closed door, thinking. By all accounts, Claudius was a good soldier, not easily spooked and calm under pressure, which meant that it was less likely he was overestimating the problem. Medb, however, wasn’t a fan of trusting the judgment of others, no matter how unflappable they might be.
While there had always been concerns about Eoghan’s friends, he himself had never been much involved in any scandals. This was, in fact, the first. She’d seen the reports the governor had been sending back, and they were very different than what Claudius reported. By Eoghan’s telling, Carthage was progressing well and would be able to make a smooth transition toward self-governance in the next year or two.
What spoke to her more than the message itself was the fact that Claudius had seen a need to send it through unofficial channels, through a friend.
Wrapping her knuckles on the desk, she stood up and headed for the door, ignoring the guards who snapped to attention and fell in behind her as she left her office.
Lucilla had just returned from her trip, and Medb found her in her private study, writing out documents, probably for Hortensius or one of the other inventors. The Empress was intelligent, no doubt, but the level of detail and advance knowledge needed for those instructions, from what Medb had seen, was well beyond what she had ever shown. At least in Medb’s presence.
For a moment, Medb’s eyes went over the technical specifications. Ky should could understand. He was something otherworldly, and she’d witnessed him perform feats no mortal could, but Lucilla was very much mortal. She’d heard the explanations, that Ky had explained it to her and she was simply writing down what she was told, but Medb wasn’t sure. Medb stayed silent for a beat too long, and Lucilla raised an eyebrow.
Medb pushed her thoughts away. It was a mystery she’d love to solve, but not one she needed to deal with today.
“Yes?” Lucilla said.
“We have a problem,” Medb said. “Claudius, the man you put in charge of the Praetorian in Carthage, sent me a message through back channels, describing concerns he has with the security of the region. Concerns that directly contradict a wide number of the governors’ reports.
“Can I see his message?”
“He chose to send it with a close friend, apparently not wanting to commit it to paper.”
Lucilla frowned, and Medb could see the empress mirroring her own thoughts. As much as she’d hated the idea of bowing to another ruler, after the loss of her kingdom, she appreciated that it was ultimately to someone like Lucilla. She’d met few quick enough to pick up on the intricacies like the empress was.
If Medb had to serve another, at least it was one worthy of that service.
“That is troubling,” Lucilla said. “If Claudius says it is so, I’m inclined to believe it. Which do you think it is then? Incompetence or treason?”
“It’s hard to know, this far removed. It could easily be either, but that isn’t the issue. He has connections with factions inside the empire that you will need as the war heats up. We can’t just go off of the suspicions of a Praetorian, no matter how trusted.”
“I agree. I also get the sense you came here with more than just concerns. You don’t need to prime me, as Ky says. Just tell me what you have to say.”
“Send Cormac. He outranks Eoghan in Ulaid society. He can apply pressure without removing Eoghan outright, and any evidence he provides will be enough to cow the factions in Ulaid that support Eoghan.”
“An excellent suggestion, since it gives reason to send you with him,” Lucilla said.
“Your majesty, I have many things here…”
“I have no doubt,” Lucilla said, cutting her off. “This isn’t a punishment, Medb, but an appreciation of your abilities. I know you’re having difficulty getting information on the easterners, leaving you and Ramirus at something of a standstill. Carthage, on the other hand, could cause us issues. Cormac is a good man and he’s become a fine diplomat with an active military mind, but subtlety is not one of his attributes. If there is a problem, it will have to be handled carefully. Also, if Claudius had been able to secure anything solid, he would have made the report to me. He sent it to you because he knew how weak his position was. This needs the touch of someone like you. I also want you in the region, as there are concerns with Italian unification, which I might need you to look into. It would give me peace of mind if you were nearby.”
“I see,” Medb said, inclining her head in tacit surrender to the empress’s position.
“I’ll send orders to Cormac today and inform Eoghan that the prince is coming to inspect the good work he’s been doing, and as part of a reevaluation of our force dispersion in preparation for the coming war. As always, I trust your judgment to do what is needed, but contact me should you need any additional support.”
Medb didn’t answer, simply bowed at the waist before turning and leaving the empress behind.
***
Far Eastern Germania
Ky crouched behind a fallen tree, his eyes fixed on the small Germanic town below. The early morning mist still clung to the ground, providing additional cover for the fifth Legion as they advanced silently through the forest. He watched it both through the drone flying high above and through his advanced vision, forcing in soldiers moving through the town, herding villagers into a centra building.
They were armed with long guns of some time, longer than the muskets the Britannians were selling to their allies through the inter-war years. The design was different, although that was more of an impression at this range than anything he knew for sure. He’d have to open them up and see just how different they were.
The fact that they had firearms at all was concerning, and confirmed his worry that the enemy, with their access to gunpowder, even lower quality gunpowder, during the last war meant his men would be facing a firearm armed enemy for the first time.
Which changed a lot of their strategies.
“They’re armed with muskets,” Ursinus said beside him, peering through a looking glass.
“Or firearms of some type, that’s for sure.”
“We saw their cannon. While it was rudimentary next to our own, it still caused you a lot of problem int hat last battle. These are, I think, going to be worse. I’d like to keep them at long range, so we can hammer them outside of their own, and only have to worry about the cannon.”
“They also outnumber us,” Ky pointed out. “If we’re going to hit them, we need to do it by surprise and take out as many as we can now, before they can form up.”
It was hard to tell, with the enemy broken up as they were, with a large group close to them, an equal size group much further out on the eastern side of town, probably outside of Ursinus’s position, and a whole lot of men scattered in the town itself.
“We’re about as close as we can get without getting out of the treeline, Consul,” Ursinus pointed out.
“I know. Here’s what I want. The assault will begin on the the group closes to it. It’s nearly as large as our own force, and looks to be the bulk of their men. Hit them with artillery and have the infantry double-time until half way across and then charge. As soon as the Infantry charges, the artillery is to shift their target to the far group. I want to hit them before they can form up and push them into the town itself. We can use it’s streets to funnel them and counter their manpower advantage.”
“It will be done, Consul,” Ursinus said, sneaking back from the edge of the treeline to being passing orders.
While he waited, Ky studied the enemy themselves. Definity asian in physic and their banners had what looked to Ky like a kind of early chinese, although the depictions of that early writing did not survive long enough into his own century. It felt right, though.
It took almost thirty minutes to get all of the men in position, far too long for Ky’s taste, but he understood Ursinus was trying to be quiet about it, to keep the element of surprise.
More of the enemy had gathered on the outskirts of town, perhaps preparing to continue their march west. Ky gave the signal and the earth itself exploded as both of the legions’ attached batteries opened fire, raining solid shot down onto the unexpected easterners. Spots of dirt and bodies shot up into the air as the shells ripped holes through the enemy’s flanks.
Ky could hear the enemies’ cries of pain and surprise from where he was.
Those voices became a crescendo as Ky’s men burst from the treeline, shrieking like banshees as they marched double time, quickly across the opening to get into range, all while the artillery continued to batter the opposing vision.
While the carnage outside of town was creating chaos across the enemy, Ky could see the easterners in town hurrying to form up and their forces outside of town already moving to support their men under attack. These people had seen a lot of combat and weren’t just conscripted labor. These were much closer to soldiers than anything the Carthaginians had possessed.
“Keep them moving,” he yelled at Ursinus. “Don’t let the enemy regroup before we can get into town.”
Ursinus nodded and began to call out orders to the buglers, but there was just too much ground to be made up. Halfway across the field, just as his men entered their effective range, a wave of small arms fire rippled out from the edge of town, from the men that had been coming to their comrades’ defense and from men who were forming up into firing lines much like those of the Britannians even under artillery barrage.
The first volley from the enemy confirmed Ky’s fear ever since hearing of the attack on Port Amicitiae. They had rifles.
As the first volley crashed into his men, sending waves of them to the ground, the advance slowed. Some, never having tasted fire, started to run while others held their formations and continued marching. The lead cohorts were in danger of breaking entirely.
Then it got worse as a much larger boom sounded from inside the city itself. They’d rolled out cannons, similar to his but different, more slender and thinner. These changes didn’t seem to affect their effectiveness, however, as now cannonballs began to tear into his line.
His men had pulled up their own rifles, cohorts beginning to return fire into the town on their own.
The positioning was terrible. Half the enemy’s force was in town, firing from cover, while his men were standing in an open field, being torn down by weapons every bit as good as his own.
“Get them moving,” Ky bellowed at Asiaticus, the Tribune of the rear cohort. “Close up. Close up! Ursinus!”
Ky turned his horse, looking for the legate, who came riding up at the call.
“You need to get them to start moving. They’re exposed out there. Push through the fire and get into town. Their shots are going into brick as much as men. Just move.”
Ursinus saluted and rode into the field, shouting at his men. It was a dangerous move, but it was what was needed in this kind of fight. They started moving, but still too slowly. The men just didn’t know how to deal with this kind of fight.
Ky looked at the officers around him, searching for something they could do. His eyes fell on Cynan, Tribune of the ninth cohort, which was being held in reserve along with one other cohort.
“Tribune,” Ky called out, waving the Ulaid officer over. “Take your cohort and the seventh and circle wide to the right. I want you to get that artillery under fire, and keep pouring it in until they’re silenced, then push into the outskirts of town. Do not enter the town proper.”
He needed something to pull the easterners from their focus on his men on the field, but he did not want a separated unit pushing in too deep without support, which would put it in danger of being surrounded.
Cynan saluted and rode off. The Ulaid was smart, moving them through the woods until they were far to the side, and swinging in hard. Ursinus was getting the rest of the cohorts slowly moving, which had the added benefit of keeping the easterners’ attention focused forward, missing Cynan’s group until they were nearly at the northern edge of the city. Men from the town started to swing in, but not before the two cohorts opened fire down a straight lane, looking directly at the artillery setup.
Easterners fell as the artillery silenced.
It was like a wall lifted in front of Ursinus’s other forces, which surged forward as the deadly artillery barrage lifted. Small arms fire continued coming in, but the reduction in death and carnage was what his men needed to continue their assault.
Ursinus pushed them on, and the front cohorts pushed into the edges of the village, forcing the easterners back deeper into the village. It wasn’t easy, however. The forces gathered on the east side of town had already begun to rush into support. His men had a good position, but they were outnumbered, and concentrated fire in the streets could thin his men out.
He needed to get the advantage, hold the town square to allow him to mass fire on their more compact formations. Ky spurred his horse forward, drawing his gladius.
“Forward! Push them back!” Ky shouted.
He rode just behind the front line, ignoring the crack of bullets. His men responded, pressing forward, using their bayonets to great effect in the tight quarters. The easterners’ rifles, so deadly at range, were muted.
“Drive! Drive through the opening. Push to the town square.”
A small group of easterners gathered down the street, preparing to line up to fire. As Ky began to shout a warning, Ursinus came riding up, shouting orders.
“Front rank, rapid fire. Fire! Fire!”
His men pulled up their rifles, the firing sporadic but fast enough to beat the enemy to the shot, as they fell in twos and threes. It didn’t stop their volley, but when it came, it had thinned out enough to keep from being devastating. Deadly, but not enough to break his lines.
Ky dismounted, handing his horse to an aide. To his left, a Britannian soldier went down, struck by an eastern bullet. Ky grabbed his rifle as it fell and snapped off a shot, dropping one of the men still left to fire.
“Forward,” Ky shouted as he reloaded the rifle.
He pushed deeper into the town, firing as they pushed forward. The streets were thick with smoke and bodies, but the enemy was giving way. Just as they got to the town square, a large body of enemy soldiers who had not been in tight fighting pushed in from the other side, in better order and with loaded weapons.
Ky’s men were caught flat-footed, without time to prepare. A wall of smoke exploded across from them, led slamming into his men, bullets ripping through Ky’s clothing, coming close enough that it would have created burns on someone without genetically toughened skin.
“Form up,” Ursinus shouted.
Ky loaded and fired. This wasn’t going to work. They’d lost too many men, and more of the enemy were pushing up, giving multiple rows of fire.
“Ursinus!” Ky called out. “Send a runner to the 5th battery and order them to shell the town center hard. I want a fire break between us and them. As soon as it starts, fall back to the starting positions.”
Ursinus nodded and began passing orders to a runner while Ky returned to firing, moving much faster than the men around him, getting off almost almsot seven shots a minute thanks to his lictore continually reloading for him, knowing he would have an accuracy they could not match.
Each of his shots connected, dropping a man. And none of it mattered. The legionnaires did him proud, holding their position in spite of the withering losses, but there were too many of them and too few of his, and the odds were getting longer with every minute.
It felt like forever since the runner had left, but only a few minutes had passed when the first shells rained down. They were close, starting in the center of the square not far from his own men and then creeping out toward the enemy. It was dangerous and shrapnel even hit a few of his own people, but it was preferable to being back in their line and pushing forward. This way, the ground-shaking impacts would push the enemy away from them, giving his men a break.
As soon as the first shells began to fall, the bugler began playing the retreat. His men held their discipline, continuing to fire and fall back, even through the rain of shells, to keep the enemy pushed back. Through the drone, Ky could see the flanking units, who were also under heavy fire, beginning to pull back also.
Worse, the enemy’s artillery, which had been forced to displace earlier, began again, with a shell landing among his men to the left, sending men flying in all directions.
“Hold formation! Back and fire! Keep the pressure up!” Ky shouted.
With both sides’ artillery landing in and across the square from each other, it was doubtful that the enemy would try to push forward, but Ky wanted to ensure that didn’t happen. His men were near the breaking point, and one push was all it would take to cause a full rout.
They’d faced larger odds, much larger than this, many times. With a parity in weaponry and, apparently, training, that would no longer be possible. Until he could get the new weapons in line, some of which were going to take time, he’d have to be much more careful about how to deploy his men, which meant they were going to start losing a lot more ground before he was going to stop them.
Ky turned to order Ursinus to pick up the pace of the retreat when another enemy volley slammed into his line. Ky felt something slam into his side with tremendous force, knocking him off his feet.
He hit the ground hard, pain exploding through his body.
For a moment, the world spun around him. Ky blinked, trying to clear his vision. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt a burning sensation in his side. Looking down, he saw a bloody hole torn through his uniform.
“Commander, you have suffered a critical injury.”
Warnings flashed across his vision, showing the damage through his side. Nanites returned information to Sophus, who displayed the damaged liver and intestines, punctured by the bullet.
Deadly to any un-augmented human, but all soft tissue, thank god. His nanites were able to repair both, and they’d already begun isolating the bullet lodged not far from his spine, removing damaged tissue and breaking the metal down for excretion. Had it been bone, the repair time would be significantly longer.
As it was, the injury was serious even for him.
“I know,” Ky said, out loud, the pain blurring his thinking.
“Nanites are at insufficient capacity to effect necessary level of repairs. You need to be sedated to allow all resources to be diverted to healing you.”
“Not yet,” he growled.
“Consul?” One of his panicked legates said as they began checking his injury.
“Bring a stretcher. Get Ursinus,” Ky managed to get out, pushing down the pain.
“Consul!” Ursinus yelled, rushing to him as if on cue, looking at the wound in horror.
It hadn’t taken long for the Britannians and anyone else who’d experienced combat to learn just how deadly a bullet could be, or the likely outcome of a gut shot.
“It’s alright. I’ll live,” Ky said, pulling up his shirt to show that the bleeding was already slowing. “Keep the men falling back in order. Don’t let them break.”
“But sir…”
“That’s an order, Legate. You’re in overall command now. Get the legion out of here and retreat as far as you can if they give chase. Get as many of the wounded out as you can, but the legion as a whole is your priority now.”
Ursinus hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “As you command, Consul.”
He turned, shouting commands to nearby officers, spurring the men on with renewed haste, as a stretcher came up and he was placed on it, his lictore insisting to be the ones to carry him out.
“Commander, you must be sedated for effective repairs,” Sophus repeated, somehow with greater urgency.
“Sellic,” Ky said, grabbing the lictore’s arm. “Transport me with the troops, but do not let…”
His voice trailed off as pain lanced through him. Sophus had moved even those nanites that dealt with pain control off, probably to help with repairing his injuries. Which meant the wound was better than just the readouts indicated.
“We know, Consul. We will keep you safe and won’t let anyone touch you.”
Ky squeezed the man’s arm lightly and then said, “Okay, do it.”
He’d just realized he said that out loud when oblivion descended.
Comments
Phil
An abysmal start to the new campaign. If Ky doesn't wise up as a general, he won't last through this book much less 5 more. However, you will take care of that....
