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Edited by Liam_the_Censor: 8/1/2020 6:47:08 PM
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Victores et Victi: The Legionnaire, part 1

The rain poured onto Vici, a small town which lay close to the borders of the Empire. The village was notorious for bounty hunters coming through, seeking their next job. Beasts, demons, monsters and the like lurked in the forest just a couple miles away, perfect for men searching for exotic wares. The town was known to few, however, for its fair share of runaway criminals. The truly great hunters did not speak of the frequent escapees, if one was lucky he could bring multiple corpses to the state with one trip. With all this being said, it was a frightened town, and who could blame them? They could just as easily be slaughtered by malicious creatures as they could pillaged by a large band of robbers. The Empire of which they were a part appeared cold and distant to them, either unable or unwilling to project its might in protection of these citizens. Bounty hunters offered such protection, but rarely at a price these poor souls could afford. In their eyes, despite the many around them, they were alone. However, it just so happened that on one particular day one particular bounty hunter came into the town looking for one particular escaped murderer who had fled a fortnight prior. This hunter was named Liam Gue. He donned plate armor, carried a sword and dagger at his side, and rode a black horse. On his blue and yellow armor was the sigil of a lion, fitting for a man roaming what he acted was his territory. The man whose head the hunter had been sent to retrieve was a former Praetorian, a member of the royal guard of the late Emperor. As such few were skilled enough to kill him. Let alone well equipped. However, despite being at an apparent disadvantage, the huntsman strode into the town to bring this murderer’s head to the Senate and to the new Emperor, Tarquin Maridius. As Liam entered the town, he received no glances from the other inhabitants. The bounty hunters, however, were clearly speaking of him, admiring his gear. The convicts also talked among themselves, wondering if a new garrison was arriving soon. As the hunter went further into the town, he found himself in the market. Lining the street were small stands, bruised fruits and vegetables filled their baskets. Dogs barked as he approached, while merchants offered him their goods for higher than normal prices. He paid them no mind, he was set on finding the inn. If asked about his business he would say he was but a weary warrior, eager for a mug of ale and some warm food. As he passed through the market and into the rest of the town, he noticed a couple of robbers holding a knife to a man’s throat. They were demanding any coin he had, the villager swore he had nothing. Of course they didn’t believe him. The robbers harassed him until he gave in, causing the poor devil to collapse onto the ground in fear. The hunter simply moved along. “There will be another time.” He thought to himself. Shortly after, the hunter found the inn. The sign above its door was nigh unreadable, had it not been for a couple drunkards stumbling into the street, he may very well have missed it. Liam dismounted his horse and found a post to tie it down to. He grabbed a small pouch of money out of his saddlebag to pay for his supper and entered the establishment. Upon opening the door, he was greeted with a loud din of people talking to each other and yelling for more ale to the bartender. After scanning the room, the hunter found a small table on the other side where he could sit. As he went to take his seat, a man by the bar caught his eye. He seemed to be hiding himself, hunched over his drink and in a large coat. A moment later a boy no older than 16 came to him asking for his order. “Whatever is most popular.” The hunter replied. The boy nodded and turned to go towards the kitchen, but he doubled back towards Liam. “I hope ya don’t mind me asking, but what is a legionnaire such as ya doin’ in this town?” The young lad inquired. “Just passing through, looking for some warm food and some drink to quench my thirst. How did you know I was a legionnaire?” “I just noticed that lion on ya shoulder plate an’ thought I’s ask.” The boy paused and looked at the hunter’s side. “Mind if I saw your blade?” Liam nodded and unsheathed the sword. “Mighty fine steel ya got there.” “It is. This sword is lighter, stronger, and sharper than anything I used before it.” Liam himself was admiring the blade now. “In fact, I’ve never had to sharpen it in all the time I’ve had it.” “How’d ya get it?” The boy asked. “The late Emperor heard from my general that I had performed an act of great valor. So, he rewarded me with this, designed after the sword my father had passed down to me. Simple, but nevertheless beautiful.” He sheathed the hand-and-a-half sword. Liam paused a moment, “When did the man at the bar wearing the coat arrive here?” He asked. “‘Bout 2 days ago. Got a room here an’ hasn’t stepped outside since.” “Thank you. Now, about my supper...” “Oh yes, right away sire!” The boy then hurried to get him his meal. With all preoccupations out of the way, Liam looked over to the man who had caught his attention earlier. His eyes were glued to the stranger’s every movement. How his leg was impatiently bobbing up and down, his glances to his right and left, his fingers constantly drumming on the bar top. What truly roused the hunter’s curiosity was when the man drank. He was being cautious no doubt, he barely lifted his hand, but his drink had been slowly emptied to the point where the sleeve of the coat fell but slightly. As it did, a slight shimmer of gold could be seen on the stranger’s wrist. Not that of a band or any such jewelry. Liam approached the bar, a vacant stool stood next to the now suspect man. The bartender opened his mouth to ask for his drink, the hunter simply raised his hand to prevent his speaking. The boy to whom Liam had conversed with earlier exited the kitchen with his food, despite his youth he had seen enough to know it was best to move on as though his patron had not moved places on him. The hunter looked over to the man out of the corner of his eye, attempting to hide the fact that he was intently studying him as he watched. He noticed the beads of sweat dappling the man’s temple, his taking of long, uneasy breathes, and his fingers tightly gripping the mug. “I saw your blade, fine weapon...” the stranger spoke to the huntsman suddenly. “Especially for that of a legionnaire.” “Thank you.” Liam slowly placed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Do you have... experience with the army?” He asked hesitantly. “More than enough.” He replied. For a few moment there was a chilling silence. To the huntsman it felt like hours. With each passing second the tension grew exponentially. Moreover, Liam’s anxiety was increased as he did not want to strike down someone he was not certain was who he was looking for. Again, the man spoke. “The Senate hired you to kill me?” “I beg your pardon?” “Shame... your naïveté had you trust them. And your trust will have you killed.” After the stranger spoke this his arm lunged toward the hunter, palm outstretched to reveal a hidden wrist blade. The steel was quickly parried by Liam’s own, the dagger he carried at his side had been close at hand for such a situation. However, the Praetorian backhanded the hunter, causing him to stumble back for a moment. It was brief but it was enough time for the former Emperor’s guard to leave the inn and draw his sword. Liam quickly met him outside with his own blade drawn. (Continued in the comments)

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  • Edited by Liam_the_Censor: 10/20/2020 4:14:56 PM
    As the armies gathered in their formations, Liam marched forward to join the men at the front lines. He had been given temporary command over this division of the legion. Aurelius and his guard would supplement the rear until, if all went according to plan, the rest of the 37th joined them to battle the 10th. Once Liam reached the front lines, he shouted, “Form lines!” The legion locked their shields in the front, spears sliding through small slits in between. After this, just as expected, the entirety of Crassus’ cavalry advanced through the pass, and 3 centuries each ascended up the slopes of the mountains. Just over their heads, a shower of arrows began to rain down. “Testudo formation!” The Legionnaire commanded. Arrows in the hundreds upon hundreds struck the Republicans’ shields. All the lines rear of the vanguard locked shields overhead, as they did this, the legionnaires moved aside beneath the shields as their archers moved through the lines. As Liam held his shield facing the cavalry, they advanced at a rapid pace. “Nock!” Liam commanded, as he did this others throughout the ranks repeated his commands, the archers fitting their arrows on the bowstrings. The cavalry was gaining ground. “Draw!” The tug of bowstrings en masse underneath the shields could be heard. As the sound of hoofbeats grew louder, the Legionnaire ordered, “Break lines!” Every other row of soldiers sidestepped and withdrew their shields, revealing the archers to the approaching cavalry. Before the enemy could get any closer Liam, with a degree of satisfaction of the ingenuity of his plan, shouted, “Loose!” A volley of hundreds of arrows flew to their marks in the cavalry’s ranks. Many of the knights fell in the first shower of arrows. As they did, Crassus’ own arrows flew overhead. “Form lines!” Liam shouted again, arrows struck the shields and some of Crassus’ own men. “Nock! Draw! Break Lines! Loose! Form Lines!” These 7 words were repeated numerous times before as the cavalry charged through the pass. Before the enemy got too close, Liam ordered the archers to fall back before the remainder of the Imperial mounted soldiers hurled themselves at the Republican vanguard. As they did so, each half of the 37th’s cavalry descended down the slopes of the the mountains to the chagrin of their opposition. The cavalry ran down the imperial forces as they flanked the bulk of the 9th, which had joined their horsemen in attacking the lines. As planned, the majority of Crassus’ force was trapped in the pass as the Republican infantry and cavalry closed in. Despite the losses inflicted by their archers, there was still a notable portion of horsemen that Liam and the rest of the Republican infantry had to deal with. As a knight rode up and attempted to plunge his sword through the gap in the shield wall at the Legionnaire, Liam drove his spear beneath the man’s right arm. As the spearhead was withdrawn, blood dripping off the now warm steel, Liam shouted, “Second line, move forward!” The men just behind the first battle line took the place of the men in the vanguard, who now retreated to the rear. As Liam himself went back into his own lines, he removed his helmet briefly to speak with 5 of the centurions. “I need your best men, I’m going to create a wedge and meet our cavalry. Then I’m going out to capture Crassus. We’ve got to cut the head off the snake.” “Sir, the Imperial line is pressing our own. Even with your maneuver we’re still being pushed back.” One of the centurions replied. “Which is why it’s imperative we break their advance. If I get those men, I can do that and capture Crassus. Their cavalry will be broken and we can flank the tenth, doing the same thing we did here, only this time, we’ll have the numbers.” The centurions looked to each other before they voiced their agreement. Each of them retrieved their 5 best men from the lines. They were experienced veterans, despite their age, much like Liam himself. He then led the men and their commanding officers forward and as they got to the front of the lines, he commanded them to get into their shield formation. Spears weaved in and out of the slits between men as they found their mark in a knight’s armor or a horses heart. As the enemy cavalry was boxed in, the mobility of their horses was rendered useless. As Liam and his men pushed forward, they eventually ran into their own cavalry. “Legionnaire! Clear the area around me! My men and I will need to get to Crassus!” The knight rallied his men and broke between their infantry and the enemy cavalry. As he found a moment of respite from the fighting, he called out to one of the lieutenants. “I need thirty horses for my men and I, we’re taking the fight to their general!” “And how are we going to fight without our horses?” The lieutenant called out indignantly. “If I could fight them without horses, so can you! Now get off your damn horse!” “That’s an order lieutenant!” One of the centurions commanded. The lieutenant finally obeyed and found enough men to give up their horses and unmanned horses to take to the enemy. Before mounting, they dropped their spears and shields. As Liam and his men broke off from the fighting in the pass, a large portion of the men on horseback came with them so as to flank the 10th. Across an open field, Crassus sat on horseback with a guard of maybe fifty men. The glint of their swords being drawn met the eyes of the approaching party. “Draw swords!” Liam said to his own. The hooves of the horses, even as loud as they were, could not drown out the battle cry of the Republicans. When the two forces collided, Liam made a beeline straight for their commander, who still sat behind his men with one other guard. An Imperial legionnaire attempted to stop him, but was knocked off of his horse before he could stop his foe’s advance. Crassus drew his own blade, one of the best blades forged short of Eternal Steel, and charged towards Liam with his guard. The three engaged in a masterful display of swordsmanship. Parries, slashes, attempted stabs, and maneuvers only the most skilled warriors could utilize were performed by the three men. However, in an opening, Liam cracked Crassus’s guard in the head with the pommel of his sword, knocking the Knight off his horse. Crassus then tackled the Legionnaire off his horse, grounding the two men. When Liam and the Imperial General got up, the guard was still recovering from the hard blow he received. Crassus lunged toward Liam, aiming for his opponents leg. The other quickly parried the blade, giving himself an opening. Liam took the opportunity and kicked the man in the breastplate, knocking him to the ground. As Crassus attempted to raise the blade, Liam knocked it out of his hand with his own sword. The Legionnaire then kicked the General’s head, knocking his helmet off and bloodying him. Just after he did so, the Legionnaire heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw the guard he had struck running in his direction, sword in hand. The Imperial legionnaire charged the Republican in order to defend his general. Liam flipped the sword to where he was holding the blade, and as the enemy got close, he stepped out of the way and struck his back with cross-guard. With the soldier slowly attempting to regain his footing, Liam walked over to Crassus, who was crawling towards his sword. Before he could take hold of the hilt, Liam picked the man up off the ground, bringing the razor sharp sword to his hostage’s neck. Liam turned himself and the General to the now standing guardsman. “Drop the sword! Drop it or I’ll cut his throat!” Liam shouted. “He won’t do it, kill him!” Crassus said struggling. Once Liam regained his hold, he brought the cold Steel to the man’s neck, any slight movement could result in the sword being stained with fresh blood. “He seems to think I’m lying. I don’t blame him. But, I think you know that I will do it, drop the sword!” The guard looked his general in the eye before releasing his grip on the hilt, letting the weapon fall into the grass. Just after he did this, some of the Republican riders approached. Blood stained their armor, but there were no wound to suggest they were their own. One of the centurions who rode with them spoke. “Legionnaire, the enemy is broken and retreating. General Aurelius is regrouping the men.” As one of the riders was tying a rope around the wrists of the Imperial guardsman, Liam threw Crassus to the ground. “Tell General Aurelius we have a valuable prize, leave a couple of your men here to escort these two back with me.” The centurion obeyed and signaled his men to collect the prisoners while he returned to camp. After the Legion gathered, they set to crossing the river, which they completed in 3 days. After the 37th crossed, they marched toward Quirinius’ rally point. It was a not a short trip to reach the other Republicans, but they eventually arrived at the Republican camp. However, when the legion did so, the Republican army was under attack. As the Legion walked over the ridge, “Form Lines!” Was heard from Liam. The battlecry of the 37th roared through the fields and rang in the ears of their enemy and their brothers.

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  • As the 37th was pitching camp, General Aurelius formed his battle plans for when they crossed the river. Soon the Republican forces would march on the governor’s capital in Ardea. As he was discussing their moves with his advisors, one of the guards outside of his tent entered. “General, a legionnaire named Liam Gue says he must see you.” “Liam Gue?” The General asked. “Yes, General.” Aurelius hesitated, “Send him in.” The guard saluted and left briefly. He re-entered, escorting the Legionnaire, whose helm was removed to reveal his blond hair. “Liam Gue,” Aurelius said, “I seem to recall hearing that you were the Senate’s bounty hunter.” “You’d be correct, General.” Liam replied as he observed the man’s clear wariness of him. “I also recall hearing that you fought beside the so-called Emperor Tarquin. This being the case, why should I trust a man who has demonstrated his loyalty to the usurper?” “Truth be told,” Liam said, taking note of his surroundings, “I wouldn’t blame you for not trusting me.” He paused, looking briefly at his helm, and back at the General. The man was analytical, his quarters reflected that. Only a few personal items stood out from the otherwise sagacious setting. Books and papers with notes and battle analysis littered Aurelius’ tent. “Even so, Gaius Maridius ordered his men to attack me for treason... you wouldn’t happen to know why he might accuse me, would you?” Aurelius chuckled, “you truly haven’t heard?” The General noted the Legionnaire’s facial expression and already knew the answer. “Emperor Gracchus ordered the Republic to be reinstated upon his death. Although, he wanted many reforms to the previous Republican structure. Such reforms would not only grant the plebs the same rights as patricians, but it would also reduce the authority of the government. The patricians are not fond of this, as you are probably aware. Gaius Maridius sent the Praetorian to kill him, and Maridius altered the late Emperor’s will to establish his son, your friend, as Emperor. Quirinius and the bishop of Cordis were on the Emperor’s council, they reported these things to us. Their propositions give us no reason to distrust them, they have nothing to gain and all to lose. You learned some semblance of the truth, that was enough to convince Gaius that you had to die.” He looked again at Liam, “Have I convinced you?” The Legionnaire was pondering these things, he had to know if his friend was involved. “Does Tarquin know of all this?” “As far as we are aware, no. It’s all a plot by his father.” Liam paused a moment, considering his options. He had sworn to uphold the will of the Emperor, and his friend’s father, who in actuality was the most powerful man in the Empire, wanted him dead. He needed allies, and right now he had none. There was only one choice for him, join the Republicans. “I’ll fight with you,” he said, “only if you promise me you’ll keep Tarquin’s brother alive.” “Tarquin’s brother?” Aurelius said, confusion in his voice. “Crassus leads the 9th and 10th legions against you and your men. They want to prevent you from joining Quirinius and to join the forces already attacking them. They’re not more than a day’s march away.” Aurelius stood up from his seat, “And you find it fit to tell us this now?” “I was... evaluating my options. Besides, a couple minutes would only delay the enemy’s defeat.” Aurelius eyed the Legionnaire again, “You speak as if they’re on the brink of defeat! Only a fool would think that Crassus Maridius, with the tactical and strategic knowledge inherited from his father, and double the men on top of that, would be beaten by an army with little to no time to prepare!” The man leaned against the table, a map detailing their surroundings laid on top of it. When facing the river, a forest began on their right. The forest reached onto one of a pair of mountains with its trees, not far from the river. In between these mountains was a pass just beyond which the 37th had pitched camp. Aurelius ran his fore-finger and thumb across the bridge of his nose. “We can’t dig any trenches to make a difference and-“ “You won’t need trenches. Not to counter his cavalry.” Liam paused, the advisors looked at him with a sense of disgust, how could a legionnaire know how to command an army? “I know what Crassus will do. He can’t flank our left, the river cuts through the mountains there. He’ll send the bulk of the 10th on our right, through the forest, and he’ll try to break our lines with the entirety of his cavalry. We can use this to our advantage. He knows that to counter him, we would normally set archers up on each mountain to rain arrows down on his men. Knowing this, he’d send a few centuries up the slopes not only to distract our archers, but also to wipe them out when they reached the top. If we station our cavalry there, when we wipe out their cavalry, ours will descend, crushing their centuries and surrounding most our the 9th in the pass.” “And how will we destroy their cavalry if our own are at the tops of the mountains?” “We bring our archers within our lines. Before they can see anything your men will lock shields overhead, it will protect our men from their archers and hide our own. When the cavalry get close enough, the lines will break temporarily and the archers will fire on the cavalry. While we fight the 9th in the pass, a thousand of your men will have to hold the rear.” Aurelius looked over to his advisors, they seemed hesitant, but ultimately they had no choice. They didn’t understand Crassus and this was the best way to beat him. He looked over to the Legionnaire. Despite his position as a general, Aurelius was not too proud to acknowledge another’s tactics or strategies. “We’ll do so, but I will need you on the front lines. The men will need a morale boost from the man who broke his blade defending the self proclaimed Emperor.” “I would expect nothing less, General.”Liam saluted and left the quarters. He had men to ready for a battle that could encourage the demoralized Republican forces. As Liam left, one of Aurelius’ advisors addresses his general. “Do you really think we can trust him?” “We can’t know until the battle is won. And if it’s lost, it won’t have mattered whether or not he was for us.” Aurelius replied. The sun set on the 37th, and on it’s rising the glint of spear shafts and the plate armor of the legionnaires littered the field just beyond the mountain pass. As Crassus’ army approached, envoys from each side were sent ahead. A mere courtesy that very rarely resulted in the parties leaving in peace. Aurelius’ party and Crassus’ own met in the pass, the Republicans yellow and blue armor contrasting to the Imperial red and gold. The former carried the banners of the Lion, and the latter the banners of the Eagle. “I was unaware the Empire had changed its banners, Crassus.” Aurelius addressed his opponent. “Well, after you traitors took off with the former Imperial colors, my father thought it might be symbolic that we adorn ourselves with the color of our enemy’s blood and the retrieved coin.” The Senator’s son had dark hair like his brother and a short beard. “Your father is the only traitor here.” Aurelius answered, as he did this, Liam rode forward between the two parties his horse but a few feet away from Crassus’ own. He was strutting in front of him, psychological warfare as it were. “Really? I notice you have my brother’s former friend in your ranks. If I recall he was found guilty of conspiring against the will of Emperor Gracchus.” Crassus shot back. “Only accused, General.” Liam retorted, “I don’t believe I was brought before a court of law. Your father saw to that.” Crassus eyed him. “Are we going to discuss terms?” Aurelius began, “Yes, our-“ Liam cut him off, “We will let your men live if you surrender.” The Imperial General was taken aback, “Surrender? You have half the men, you’re trapped between my armies and a river, you have no chance! If you surrender, I might be merciful and send you to my father alive instead of just your heads!” “We won’t be surrendering to you, or to anyone for that matter.” Liam answered. “So be it. When the battles over, put this one’s head on a spike for betraying my brother.” “If your brother were here, Liam said, “he’d do me the courtesy of doing so himself.” With that, both parties departed to their battle lines, soon to be covered red in each other’s blood.

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  • Brutus watched the newest attack from the so-called "loyalists" from his command tower overlooking the battlefield. His siege engines had done good work, tearing holes in the ranks over and over again. The battered forces were currently engaging his troops, hoping to strike a meaningful blow of some kind. Brutus shook his head, turning back to the map in front of him. According to his reports, the 37th was still at least a day out, maybe more. Brutus scowled, looking back at the ranks of exhausted men slogging through a battle. If only he had more men, then the battle would have been over when it began. He growled in frustration. What was taking those men so long? He watched Marcus lead a massive charge, shattering the enemy line and sending them into full retreat. If only all men in the world were like him, Brutus thought. Then everything would work out just fine. He walked down and met Octavius by the barracks, the sea of exhausted men parting before him. Octavius nodded as he approached. "A few more casualties, but otherwise we remain well off." Brutus nodded, then turned and walked back to his command tent. He had plans to change, and letters to write.

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  • Brutus Quirinius looked out from his command tower at the mass of men and metal in the field in front of his encampment. The screams of dying men and horses echoed through the canyon as he watched, praying that his idea would work. After another legion of his supporters had arrived, a large army led by the loyalist legions had sprung upon them, giving them almost no time to plan. Brutus hoped that what they had planned would be enough, or else his friend's work would be forever lost. Below, his men began to give ground, slowly but surely being pressed backwards by the onslaught. His only consolation was that the fools had underestimated his strength, else they would have already pushed them to the brink. He tapped his fingers against the railing, muttering under his breath as he cast his eyes across the battlefield. Suddenly, out of a small, hidden valley to the side of the battle, a large wedge of cavalry burst into the light and slammed into the side of the enemy, shattering their lines and sending men sprawling. The wedge quickly regrouped as another one slammed into the opening the first had created, cutting down soldiers like wheat. Startled, the orderly March forwards became a shambling retreat as the majority of the men began to back away, the cowards in their ranks turning and sprinting to where they had made their camps. After enough harrying, trump's sounded from the enemy encampment and the rest of the attack force turned as one and rushed back, eager to leave the area of bloodshed. Brutus smiled even as he wiped the sweat from his face. They had survived this wave, and that was enough for him. Hours after the battle, Brutus, Octavius, and Marcus entered the command tent, their faces grim as they took in the map before them. The scouts had returned with what they could safely gather, and it seemed grim. The enemy outnumbered them six legions to four, and all six of the enemy's legions were camped outside the only way out of the pass. The closest legion to being able to help them was the 37th, and they were across a river and still a good three days' march away. Octavius slammed his fist into the table, sending papers flying and scattering the tokens representing legions. "How could they have snuck up on us? Six legions of men appear out of the blue a day's march from us, giving us no time to do anything but a small cavalry flank!" Marcus shook his head. "We put almost no patrols around the area. I'm going to set up a full dozen after this is over. How are the siege engines?" "We still have a full dozen catapults, but only five of our ballistas are active, and we only have two trebuchets built." Octavius looked at Brutus. "You think you can speed up the workers?" Brutus nodded grimly. "We'll do what we can. After that, we just need to hope that the 37th can reach us in time."

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  • [quote]The village was notorious [/quote] Owo a good read!

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  • The Praetorian raised his sword, pointing the tip towards the hunter, the rain dripping off like blood. The hilt was held close, both hands grasping it to deliver a powerful blow. Liam however, took a simple defensive stance. One hand on the sword, the other holding his dagger. The Praetorian made the next move. He brought his blade towards what would been his opponent’s neck had the man not evaded the swing. However, the Praetorian did not leave himself open for an attack with his first move. When Liam had attempted to stain his own blade red with his adversary’s blood by plunging it into his rib cage, the former guard parried it and used the momentum to push away the hunter. They both stood in the road for a moment, looking the other dead in the eyes. The Praetorian spoke again to the man chasing him after another moment of silence. “You’re a pawn, legionnaire. That’s all you are. That’s what we all are.” “And what makes you say that?” “I killed the Emperor for reasons I thought were my own. But I was wrong. I was used, a mere piece in a larger game. I’m a loose end.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because if I die I’m bringing those who sealed my fate with me!” “You sealed your own fate when you killed the man you swore to protect!” Liam charged at the guard. No longer on the defensive, he struck and slashed and stabbed with precision. The Praetorian attempted to keep up and, though a great swordsman, could not match his opposition. In a final attempt to save his life the Praetorian drew his wrist blade for a strike. He outstretched his palm so the blade could bury itself in the throat of the hunter. But before this happened, the Praetorian saw the point of a dagger looking at him through his own hand. He then felt the blade of the other’s sword in his stomach. He looked down as it was withdrawn. He fell down in the mud. Water and blood mingled as both spilled onto his breastplate. The dying man looked up to his assailant, he saw no pleasure or satisfaction from the other. Just indifference. “You have a chance to bring justice to those who conspired with you.” Liam said as he knelt down in the mud with the Praetorian. “Who sent you to kill the Emperor?” The Praetorian was coughing up blood, struggling to speak. “The same men who sent you...” Liam grabbed one of the shoulder straps on the assassin’s armor. “You lie!” The Praetorian grew increasingly pale. He was close to death, barely able even to say these last words. “Does a dead man have any reason to lie?” With his final words spoken, he gave way to his eternal sleep. Liam could see any life the man had left leave his eyes. They looked up to the dark sky, cold and empty. Liam closed them and prayed over the Praetorian’s soul before he rose from the mud. Before he could leave he had to have the body dressed if he were to show it before the Senate. He brought it to the town’s mortician and while the body was prepared for his departure, Liam considered what he had been told by the now dead guard. What reason would the Senate have for killing their own Emperor? If the Praetorian was right, then Liam too was conspiring in the Emperor’s assassination. “I must know the truth,” he thought, “even if I helped bury it.”

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    • This is great, but i have two criticisms (kinda). The first is just grammar stuff; in the secind paragraph, there's a part where it says, "Few were skilled enough to take him down. Let alone well equipped," (That's not the exact quote but whatever). The second sentence in that phrase is a fragment, and therefore grammatically incorrect. Simply replace the period with a comma and the tiny issue will be solved. The second is also really minor and nitpicky, but i figured i better mention it. In the second paragraph in the comment section of the story, there's a description that goes somrthing like, "Liam attempted to stain his sword red with the Praetorian's blood, but it was swiftly parried..." (Again, not exact quote, but i think you know what i'm talking about.) This piece of imagery is very pretty and very descriptive, but it induces an image in the reader's head that is contrary to what is actually going on. That "stain his sword red with blood" part makes the reader think of a bloody sword, but, in that moment of the story, Liam hadn't killed the guy yet. This creates a tiny bubble of hesitation as the reader has to untangle the contradictory image and the true events in the story. It's a very slight hesitation; it took me only a moment to shake off the confusion, but that moment slightly interupts the flow of the story, which you don't want. Great story though, the descriptions and imagery were top-notch, and it had a very episodic ending where the immideate conflict was resolved but hinted at a greater conflict. I can go about my day without wondering what's going to happen next, but, if you do post the next part, i will be excited to see what new tribulations appear in the world of Liam Gue.

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    • Interesting, very interesting. I like the mix of Roman society, politics, and titles and medieval armaments, and strategies.

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    • Salve auctorem huis opi! Tu fabulam de milite Romana magna bene. Latinum dico... spes in me deploravi.

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    • BUwUnp [spoiler]tip: mark your comment as answer! [/spoiler]

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    • I shall hunt down the killers with thy! You have my lightwhip!

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    • Edited by RingLeader77: 8/1/2020 7:07:11 PM
      *Roman salute.* So it begins. Rain fell softly on the Imperial city, washing the white flagstones, cleaning the gutters, but doing little to clean the fog of melancholy that hung over the city. The emperor was dead, long live the emperor. Gaius Meridius sat silently on the back of his horse, looking up at the large monolith that had been erected in honor of the late ruler. It was recently finished, and dust left by chisel still remained to be washed out by the rain. Gaius was a senator of these lands, and as far as he was concerned, he was [i]the[/i] senator. Beside him rode a younger, more inept senator, Horus. He often followed Meridius around, as if in hope that his years of experience would rub off on him. Together they paid their respects to the fallen emperor, who by all accounts had been a man of the people, a father to the children of the land. In truth, however, it was only Horus who paid respects, while Meridius merely watched on with a curious gaze. He read the words writ in stone and thought them gaudy. A glowing epitaph for a lesser man. He looked sidelong at Horus, noting the pained expression on the young man's face and a faintly trembling lip. Sentimentality at its weakest. "Ah, my emperor, if only I had been there that hour..." Horus looked over at Gaius. "If I had been there, I would have slain that assassin, on my oath to the Senate I would have. -Or die in the attempt. Would be better to part with so loved of a leader. " "Yes," Said Gaius in a consoling tone that belied the secret irony in his words. "As would have. But think not on such sad things, young Horus! Now he watches from above and he may yet see how we can make this land a far, far better place than it was even under his ruling. " As he spoke these words, Meridius felt not a twinge of regret, not a pang of conscience. No remorse, even though it was he who had sent the assassin himself. How easy it was to undo an old man's whims with cunning. The world would be a better place now without the dying ignorance of the old monarch. "You are, Gaius. We have a duty to uphold. To him, and to the new emperor, long may he reign." Horus, his red cape shifting in the wind and rain, turned his horse slightly towards Gaius. "I now I have said it many times of late, but I am happy to see Tarquin on the throne. I could not think of a more worthy successor." "You flatter him in his father's presence, Horus. He is my son, you need not extoll his virtues merely for my company's sake." Inwardly the jaded senator smiled a contented smile as he watched his fellow senator. "And yet stil I believe it! I fought under him, you know. Up North, in the bloodiest strip of land I have ever laid eyes on. He fought like an judge of providence, and his sword swung twice as fast as its want. What's more I judge him to be a good man of character, just like I judge you to be. " It is to be noted, that while a good fellow and on occasion a wise one, Horus was not gifted with good judgement of others' character. Nodding his thanks, the older senator looked up at the monument to the emperor. Its sides were slick from clean cuts and from the rain's drizzle, but it was an imposing sight and an impressive one. "Not so bad is his death, for now he can live in the memory of all the little people he tried so hard to accommodate, perhaps to his own detriment." "The people did love him like a father, didn't they? He was that, and a good master as well." Horus replied, then looking up at the monument he solemnly read out its memorial. "Here lies Julius Grachus, last of his name and first in the hearts of the people. May Providence see him seated high in the clouds above, That he may look down on the nation he built, as a father to his people. May his watchful soul ever guide us towards prosperity." Horus was quiet after the reading, and except for patting the side of his horse's neck affectionately, he remained perfectly still. Meridius waited as well, not out of respect for the dead or solemnity, but because it was proper to do so when Horus was so distraught by the moment. However, he had places to be and laws to enact, and an emperor for a son who would need counseling. "Come, Horus. Let us not dwell overly long on his passing, he would want us to tend to the nation's future." With a sigh Horus turned his horse's head back towards the Senate, whose bright stone and lofty roof stood above the rest of the city like the power that it was. The praetorian guard behind them shifted their own horses to flank and surround the two senators as they began their ride back. Hand and half swords hung at their sides and tall helms crowned their heads. Their faces were grim and still, as befit their station, but Meridius believed he knew what may occupy their thoughts. The people looked now upon their noble order with fear and loathing, for was it not a praetorian that had taken the life of the emperor? How would these men react if they knew that the very man they now escorted was the man who had cast an indelible stain on their honor. Rotten food, scowling women, and spiteful children were now what greeted them on the streets. But not so scorned was Meridius, for as he passed the rows of humble shops and homes people came out to watch his passing, hailing him as progenitor of kings, unbeknownst he was equally the killer of one. On his face was satisfaction and in his mind plots for the stabilizing of this grand empire. It was not personal, his successful bid for power, it was merely what had to be done, both for this nation and for the glory of his family name. Throughout the future historians would now learn of this line of kings and emperors. Meridius' line, a proud line, a line which would endure. Of that he would make certain.

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