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Chapter 3
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2021-10-10 12:37:38This isn’t the first time I’ve just simply laid down to die when an explosion hits near me, the thing is it’s happened to me so many times I just thought it’d end up that way. Lurti knows I get his point so he doesn’t say anything else; instead he unties the blue strap tied to his wrist and smells it. It’s a memento from Aquilia his lady back home in Capua. “They’re saying the war is over, I’m finally going to see her again.” He says. I suddenly burst in laughter at those words, which is a stupid act since it turns out my chest has suffered some bruising from the explosion. But the annoyed look on Lurti’s face is completely worth it. “Lurti, they’ve been saying that before Uncle Servo was first Knighted. What makes you think it’s going to end this time?” Lurti curses and kicks my wounded arm; I curl back from the pain but still keep laughing. A smile curls in Lurti’s mouth as he slowly begins laughing too. He sits down between Varkii and me and stabs his sword to the ground. We watch the rain wash the blood off the grass as the medics pull the dead and wounded out of the battlefield. “Don’t get me wrong Lurti” I say “I wish this war was really about to end.” “So we can go home and just bet on races all day?” “Why not? It’s a lot easier to lose a bet to the gangs than to stab another man in the gut” “You speak the simple truth, brother”
We continue to watch the battlefield as the day passed by; spikes were erected while Gunners and Spearmen took defensive positions as the rest of the Legion tried their best to rest in the cold wet Northland grass. We the wounded were ordered to go to fall back for proper healing, while my two brothers fell in with the rest of the 46th Cohort. The walk back to camp was excruciating and painful to say the least, but the thought of getting trapped in a battle with a weak arm and a burned leg is just way too terrifying a prospect for any sane soldier. So I kept pushing forward. I try my best to ignore the pain in my leg with thoughts of civilization, fresh seasoned meat off the grill, strong wine, fresh water, clean clothes and a warm blazing fire pit. A pole lantern beside me begins to make noise as the coals inside it shift and bounce inside its metal container. I try to march closer to it and do my best to feel its warmth. The warmth it gave out was the best defence we had against the bitter cold that was slowly eating into our skin. I watch the coals slowly die off as the minutes go by. It’s strange how fire can keep a soldier so warm and safe and at the same time remind them of all the horrors they’ve experienced.
The flames slowly dance reminding me of the insanity and confusion that I experienced so many times over the past few years. The stench of a charred body and the screams of a burning man, I remember my oldest friend Riiger’s death like it was not a few days ago. To this day I wonder the shrapnel that tore through his neck made sure he suffered little from the fire but it was clear to me it wasn’t an easy death. “Damn this war” I tell myself. Suddenly my injured foot hits a rock and I shift back to reality. I look around and realize the rain has stopped and the smell of damp earth becomes stronger. The Sun begins to set as night slowly arrives. Soon enough I see the Red and Gold Crystal leaf banner of the Remanian Legions atop a flagpole. Camp Darian was in sight. I immediately head for my tent and drink a few bottles of pain potions and blueberry rum to the rather perplexed look of my fellow tent mates. As soon as the dizziness of drink rattles my head, the numbness of the pain potions begin to take effect, soon after I am fast asleep on the dirt in the tent.
2
I find myself yelling the Red Wolf’s name along with the crowd. As a child I don’t truly understand the stakes involved in this duel, all I know is that the crowd is screaming his name. I look to my right and see my brothers Lurti and Varkii, screaming the Wolf’s name. Then to my left I see my Uncle Servo, The one who had raised us 3in the docks of Capua for as long as I can remember. I tug at his sleeve and ask him why are they cheering for the Wolf? He leans down and tells me “The Red Wolf fights for the Honor of Capua, that’s why we cheer for him.” His words are as vague to me as mud water on a rainy day. Then I hear a loud horn blowing and the sound of steel clashing and for the hundredth time I realize, I am dreaming...
I wake up with a mind numbing headache and intense pain in my left leg. I notice a strange smell coming from my wound and realize some fool has spilled wine on it. I’m about to stand up and punch the nearest person holding a bottle of wine then Varkii shows up and pours a bottle of blueberry rum down my head. I respond in kind by spitting the rum at his face, he only laughs and pour the rest of the bottle down my head. My anger makes the headache worsen as I force myself up and begin punching Varkii on his shoulder. He just laughs and slaps my face then says “Damn you Molag!!! That’s no way to celebrate the end of the whole damn Long War!!”
I nearly faint at the sound of those words, in fact I stumble but Varkii picks me up and hands me a bottle of wine. This time I drink it then I grab the bottle and begin pouring it on the heads of other sleeping soldiers all while shouting the victory cry of every soldier in this Legion and it was “The Long War is over!!!”
…
“Legionnaires of the Lupus Infernus! Today is a momentous day in Remanian history; ever since we were children we have been told the story of the Long War. We all know the story of how Remas gallantly defended herself against the Persians who dare stood in the way of our growing empire. But we are all too aware on how the Persians proved to be more than just some mysterious barbarian nation. But the 500 years our Empire has spent defending its honor has finally come to bear fruit! The war is over! Home awaits us! But until then we remember the near forgotten ceremonies of Peace and then we celebrate!” The General’s speech causes entire Legion to erupt in celebration. I limp around camp and join in the cheers of fellow Remanians hugging, shoving, even punching and then I see Lurti sitting down in crate holding the Blue strap in his hand. I walk over to him and give him a hug, he begins crying and laughing at the same time as members of his squad also starts hugging Lurti.
Suddenly a horn blows signalling the Peace Ceremony which is something that hasn’t been seen in many years. Lurti and I look for Varkii and find him drunk in the arms of one of our medicae, the field doctors. We wake him up with cold water and prepare ourselves for the Ceremony.
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Both sides face each other at opposite sides of the battlefield from yesterday, the stench of smoke and blood still fill the air to some degree. We hear that the officers simply named the battle, Final Eternity. Although I found the name a bit bland, in all truth I believe it didn’t matter. The ceremony was conducted by the meeting of Generals from both sides. When our own General Vaxides read the official Persian letter and inspected the seal for authenticity while the Persian Leader General Izari did the same with the Remanian letter. When both Generals returned the letters and saluted each other we knew the war was now over. The cheers of both armies are much more deafening than the fiercest battle cries or loudest explosion, the Long War was finally over and yet despite my happiness I find my heart beating really fast, my fingertips
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It’s early in the afternoon when the Legion begins the march; everyone is much more cheery than usual after all we were going back to civilization. Some of these soldiers have been serving for at least 20 years now, our General Vaxides has been serving for 50 years straight. The smiles on everyone’s faces are clearly evident despite the terrible Northland cold, the Centurions even allowed loose marching formations. So Cohorts were allowed to mix ranks, with that I marched with Lurti and Varkii. I noticed throughout the march Lurti constantly smelt the blue strap in his wrist while Varkii and I talk about our plans to start our own business. Varkii was thinking of making deals with butcher shops at the tower levels in Capua where wild game was pretty much scarce. “We’ll be rich Pup! Imagine all those pompous senators an
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The crowd’s roar becomes stronger when the Red Wolf draws first blood by hitting the Iron Ram’s head, the Ram spits out blood but isn’t down yet so he strikes back at the Red Wolf’s side. The Wolf immediately blocks it and kicks the Iron Ram in the chest and hits his face again with the sword. Killing isn’t allowed in Gladiatorial games anymore, the weapons are blunted and hollow but the attacks still draw blood and blood is all the crowd really cares for. As for me all I care about is the rush of the crowd and the thrill of watching the Champion Of Capua defeat his opponent. But all of my hopes of seeing victory turns dim as the Iron Ram sweeps the Red Wolf’s feet and kicks his face as the Wolf’s body hits the ground. The crowd’s thunderous applause turns into loud cries of fear and worry as the Iron Ram raises his 2 swords to finish off
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“Every Legion is divided into two distinct units, Cadet Molag Broner, what are those units?” I freeze for a second but I take a short deep breath to break the anxiety. “Sir, every Legion is divided into Companies and the Companies are divided into Cohorts sir!.” “Correct Cadet Molag, now first and foremost what does a Legionnaire fight for Cadet Rook?” The Cadet in question was a bulky man, roughly around my age. He would always brag about his days as a young boxer. “The Legionnaire fights for the honor and the preservation of the Remanian Empire.” The Lanistae, clearly unimpressed lets out a harsh southland curse and punches Rook in the stomach, making him clutch his stomach in pain “Cadet Rook! Do you mean to tell me that your honor is more important than the lives of your fellow Legionnaires?” Rook straightens his posture and lets out
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I had completely forgotten how great beer tasted like, over the past 5 years the only drink we’d ever taste was either 2 week fermented “wine” or on special days blueberry rum. But even blueberry rum begins to taste like stale water after 5 years. So the taste of cold malt beer was one of the few things I had been looking forward to since the treaty. Over the past 30 minutes since Lurti’s knock out, Varkii and I must have tried over five kinds of grain ales. Varkii being the smart drinker was barely drunk yet but as for me, it was the opposite. Like Lurti I always was a weak drinker but I wasn’t looking forward to getting passed out. “I’m going out for some air.” I tell Varkii as I stumble towards the door.
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“Legionnaire Molag Broner Cohort 46 3rd Company 17th Legion Bright Tigers, I’m here to check for the belongings of deceased Legionnaire Riiger Clarion also from Cohort 46 17th Legion Bright Tigers.”“Riiger Clarion? Knew the lad, he’d be sending letters whenever he could. Good with the sword but bad with the shield. Not too smart for a Remanian I’ll wager”“That’s him indeed sir, we both grew up in New Capua and also went to New Capuan Military Academy. He almost didn’t make it because of his slow shield arm.”“
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By nightfall I had already woken up and the rest of the camp was already considerably rowdy, the smell of roasting meat and nearly every type of ale in existence was everywhere. Normally on a “peaceful day” we would conduct some combat drills to stay in shape but the war was over. By some crack in the laws of war we were all discharged so there was no point in conducting any more drills. Lurti and Varkii were out there enjoying themselves drinking their own skulls off with the rest of their unit. Normally a soldier like me would just enjoy the party but I wasn’t in the mood to endure the noise of an entire Remanian Legion going drunk, I’ve seen it enough times when veterans try to forget where they are. I just wanted to find some peace and quiet so I could read Riiger’s Journal. So I grab a goat leg and opt instead to go back to Iasi alone so
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“So soldier, would wine do you good today? I know you’re not here for the ale” The barmaid asks. “Oh no thank you, water would be fine.” I reply. She gives me a puzzled look and then says “There’s probably some boiled water that has cooled down. I’ll go fetch you some.” Before she leaves she gives me a small wink and walks towards the kitchen. I try to guess why she gave me a puzzled look till I remembered that inside any Remanian city; water is as filthy as a pig’s ass. In the battlefield clean water was easier to get by because we always left some buckets out for the rains. Here in the city people would rather drink ale and rum to avoid whatever diseases had cooked up in the water. Of course folks around would boil water but boiling hot water isn’t something you’d be drinking instantly. The barmaid arrived in a few minutes carrying a mug of
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I was expecting the weather to turn dire and shower us all with some unneeded freezing rain, but surprisingly the weather stayed calm the whole day though, nothing wilder than a strong wind passed by. Varkii and I stayed at that supply tent till the next morning. I expected Trosdig to wake us up for the sake of Cohort solidarity but it seemed that he couldn’t care less, or perhaps he thought we were dead. … It wasn’t too long till I was awaken by a disturbing bright light shining brightening our resting spot, I expected it to be the Sunrise but instead it was just the one of the squads lighting up a massive bonfire for warmth. I look up into the sky and see the Moon shining brightly down upon us. “Serene isn’t it” I look behind me and see a woman standing behi
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Though the distance between me and the Cohort was only a few short paces, my sprint to close that distance felt like a day’s worth of marching, and the howling growls of the charging barbarians did very little to satiate my panic. Once I joined my comrades, Varis immediately slaps me in the head and garbles some angry words at me; I couldn’t hear any, thanks to the rumble of guns and the bashing of shields. I stay in the back ranks for a while, watching the barbarians slam wildly into our well packed ranks. So far, no casualties, though the breach in the wall was still flooding with our rag armored opponents. Miraculously, the fighting seemed to die down for a moment, that’s when Trosdig finally found some time to berate me. “By Loki’s Children! What is your job here Mallic?” “I I I am A Soldier of Remas!” I stammer, but with enough of the vigor and passion that I once ha
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I had faced disrespect in the past, disrespect from my brothers, and disrespect from strangers, from officers, prisoners, enemies and so forth. The irritation that follows is something I have never outgrown so what followed next was a flurry of fists, curses and more spit as I wrestled the tattooed legionnaire to the ground. My opponent fought back as hard as any Remanian soldier was expected to and so did I. He struck back by punching at my ribs as I tried to land an elbow strike to his face, I clinch through the pain and go through with the attack as I feel his nose crack under my elbow. But despite that attack he is able to flip me over and then begins to deliver strike down on my face with a series of quick punches. I block with arms and catch one arm and use it
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After forming up, a group of officers led us to a set of habitation tents near the perimeter of the Southern walls of the fort, from which we were split up and assigned to the tents by squad. “Get some rest, you’re moving out before dawn and meeting up with the rest of the legion at the main fortress.” Says one of the Officers, we salute in response and begin unpacking. Trosdig had again released me as scribe after remembering my bad arm and took in Frederick this time. Once we settled by the tents, Cub passes by and I strike up a conversation with me “I thought there was a meeting?” I ask him “
