Lucius Alden

A Hundred Days

Part VII

-The Edge of Jelin-

Toss an apple to yer darling,

if it's caught Luthos shall favor yer coupling

-

-Lesia saying-

Ancient marital custom

The First marched inside the village of Isker later that afternoon. The few locals that hadn’t run away towards the outer fortifications at Rockfort, stood at the doors of their huts and watched them with apprehension. Lucius that had followed them initially, stayed at the outskirts of the village to inspect the arrival of the Second and a large number of Sam’s troops that had opted to cross the lake after them. The Second Century had gotten itself in trouble en route, but they had managed to come out of the attack on the icy surface of the lake relatively unscathed.

“Centurion Tutor,” Lucius said, his face tired and gloomy despite the win that morning. Watching the death pyres of friends and soldiers that fought and died for him was something that was weighing heavy on the young general. The loss of Zac Ross especially painful as Lucius had gotten close with the habitually skittish squire that had been killed performing unlikely heroics.

A man’s true character is only unveiled under peril.

“Milord, the Second is ready to assist,” The Centurion reported, almost three hundred recruits standing behind him and about two hundred of O’ Dargan’s troops. The supply train was still slowly coming over the frozen lake. The long rows of carts and animals extending from bank to bank.

“Replenish the main Centuries first with your readier troops Centurion,” Lucius told him. “We lost some good men earlier. Bring everyone inside the village. We’ll make camp there.”

“The Issirs build a wall outside Rockfort, sire?” Tutor asked him.

“They have,” Lucius replied and took the reins from Faye. The woman had almost every one of her former warband members following him around. “Let me worry about that Centurion. Bring the Second inside the village before sunset and find quarters for O’ Dargan’s men.”

“General,” Tutor saluted.

“This is a Cohort, Centurion,” Lucius told him and the man nodded. “It’s a part of a Legion, isn’t?”

“Last I checked sire,” Tutor replied with a smile, every part of his armour well-polished and new. “That’s how it is.”

“Well then, let’s keep the ranks separate then,” Lucius retorted without fanfare. “Avoid any confusion.”

“Legatus,” Tutor said loud enough to be heard by the soldiers watching their exchange and bumped a fist on his chest. The majority of them reacting with a thunderous cheer, blades clanging on shields and heavy boots stabbing the frozen ground.

Galio had insisted during the funeral rights to solidify a proper command structure to keep the moral high. The men knew the Legion would always take care of its own.

There would be no Legion without a commander.

Jelin’s Edge plateau, a massive elongated granite rising completely flat at its top, stretched from Alford River to Umlen following the coast of Jelin, guarded at its start from the city castle of Rockfort and the square thick walled Krakenfort almost five hundred kilometers to the west.

“The only other approach to the city is Abrakas Gorge,” Prefect Veturius informed them two hours later, inside the longhouse they had commandeered belonging to a fish merchant that had fled to the city according to one gossip, or had been killed according to another. Lucius had given strict instructions to the officers to avoid reprisals, or any type of violence inflicted on civilians. “Through the forest on the Northwest, it cuts obliquely up the slopes and it will bring us behind Rockfort.”

“Is that the road from Krakenhall?” Lucius queried, pointing at the constantly updating maps of the area.

“Aye milord,” Galio replied. “It heads for Krakenfort first and the Umlen River, then all the way to Lord Vanzon’s city.”

“Can they bring supplies in winter?” Lucius asked the other officers present, mainly the Northmen.

“Once a month,” One of them replied. “Once the snow stops falling.”

“Don’t see them making the attempt,” Said another. “Ice stops everything whether it wants it, or not.”

“Right,” Lucius said. “Cutting the road is paramount the way I see it.”

“Aye milord,” Galio agreed. “That means we have to force the Gorge.”

Lucius nodded.

“We’ve sent for reinforcements from O’ Dargan?”

“We have Legatus Alden,” Centurion Trupo informed him.

“How soon they can be here?”

“Tomorrow morning sire.”

“That’s a day,” Lucius said and rubbed his forehead, the fire burning in the fireplace bothering him.

“We need them here to keep the Issirs honest and behind the walls,” Morgan said.

“We need the walls out of the way and control of that bridge,” Lucius countered with a grimace of frustration. “But I don’t want O’ Dargan sacrificing men in a direct assault there. Then again pretending you’ll attack the bridge won’t force its defenders to up and abandon it right gents?”

“They’ve brought Scorpios at the palisades,” Galio informed him.

“Can we burn them?” Lucius asked. The wooden fortifications had been added in the last three weeks and weren’t much better than what their cohort build when in camp.

“We have no Naphtha Legatus,” Kaeso reported, his face sporting a stitch running down his left cheek. “I don’t think those timbers are flammable, they have them doused with water. Everything turned to a block of ice.”

“All is ice out here Decanus,” Lucius commented.

“A direct assault might push them from the wall. They have a castle to fall back to,” Galio offered seeing he was getting frustrated.

“If they lose access to the river they are done Prefect,” Lucius argued. “They won’t retreat that easy.”

“It’s a matter of numbers milord,” Galio insisted.

“Ah, we might lose half our force here,” Lucius grunted and pushed away from the table. No one was seated, since there were no chairs left. The soldiers had stripped everything down to use as firewood. They had already started building a wall outside the village, turning it into a huge camp and dry wood had turned to a very hot commodity. Lucius smacked his lips and then stared at the officers. “One hour of rest gents,” He told them. “Then we’re back here with a solution.”

“Kaeso lost twenty four men,” Galio informed him, as Lucius used the ‘rest’ to get up to speed on every aspect of the army. “The First has eleven dead, fourteen wounded, but I’ll have them back on the field in a week. The Third has eight killed, seven wounded and the Fourth has thirty three killed, twenty one wounded.”

“They hit us hard there,” Lucius said and watched Trupo returning with his scrolls, Tutor following him.

“Fifty two killed, plus Kaeso’s lads,” Galio rounded it up. “We will draw from the recruits—”

“The Fourth gets the best, they need to soar up their strength again,” Lucius interrupted him. “Reinforce the rest as you see fit Prefect.”

“Of course milord,” Galio agreed.

“How many Centurion Tutor?” Lucius asked the commander of the Second Century.

“Over a hundred have been drilled sufficiently sire,” He replied. “I suggest using them in the back lines of the formation until they get their legs under them.”

“Can we form another Century?” Lucius asked.

“Not at this time,” Tutor replied. “Not if we address the casualties sire.”

“Damn it,” Lucius cursed. “O’ Dargan should have forced the lake and not sit for weeks behind the river!”

“If he sends enough men, we can have them occupy the Issirs here milord,” Galio reminded him. “Whilst we circle behind them and cut the road. He lost us time, but he also lulled the Issirs into a false sense of security.”

“They don’t believe we will go any further,” Lucius said looking at him and the old officer shrugged his shoulders.

“They don’t believe the Northmen will Legatus,” Galio replied. “This is the edge of Jelin and beyond Umlen no Jarl has ever ventured. Direwolves infested land. Rockfort was the last Northern city. Had the Issirs stayed in Krakenhall they would have been no meaningful war.”

“Ah perhaps, though they still would have fought for Eaglesnest and Sovya,” Lucius commented.

“They would have aye, but this front would have been quiet.”

“As long as Vanzon is in Krakenhall,” Lucius countered. “This isn’t the old North Galio. As long as he’s there the Issirs will have their eyes set firmly here. So not moving beyond Rockfort, because that’s where the old borders were, seems like a recipe for disaster down the line.”

“As I’ve said milord,” Galio replied with a tired, but satisfied smile. “No Northman would.”

Faye had her right arm bandaged and was sitting at the edge of the bed looking at the fireplace. The longhouse had a separate bedroom Lucius had been given as his personal quarters for the night, with the Prefect and the officers staying in the larger room, a door away.

“How is it?” Lucius asked her chewing on the hard tack he’d dipped in warm ale. The taste vile.

“It’s not broken,” She said falling back on the mattress, her armour ringing. They were both fully clothed, as there was no time for anything else. They were supposed to be sleeping, but Lucius had spent the time going over plans and logistics in the next room. Faye gave him a look of concern. “How are you?”

Lucius grimaced and stared at the bright flames, the only illumination in their room.

“Don’t do this,” Faye said and got up, the bed creaking, to approach him. “It is war, people will get hurt.”

“Killed,” Lucius noted and clasped his hands behind his back. “I wager most didn’t think about that when they joined.”

“Nobody does,” Faye murmured and touched the rough stubble on his face. “Have I told ye…?” She said her voice trailing.

Lucius stared at her rosy face, long red hair gathered behind her small ears and cracked a smile. “What?” He asked her.

“It’s not important,” Faye whispered and kissed him. Lucius wrapped his arms around her armoured waist and pulled her close.

“You taste fresh, Decurion,” He commented.

“I washed wit snow,” Faye replied, her eyes smiling.

“That sounds brutal,” Lucius teased.

“The first couple of minutes only,” Faye teased back. “Then ye don’t feel a thing.”

“Ah, I wish we had time to talk more of this,” Lucius admitted after another taste of her plump lips.

“Don’t worry about that Alden,” Faye soothed him. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” Lucius replied and stopped her from getting away. She stared at him a little hesitant, a fact he hated. “I don’t like hearing all this whispering from your people, or the fear in your eyes.”

Faye blushed. “I knew what I was getting into,” She paused, breathed once deeply and then let it all out. “You’ll need a better match soon, so I’ll just cherish the time I have without regrets.”

“Lady Faye Numbers,” Lucius said a tick appearing on his right eye. “You have me judged completely wrong.”

Faye frowned not expecting the rebuke.

“Prefect Veturius!” Lucius barked and the door opened behind them. A solemn faced Galio walked in, his helm carried in his left arm. “You’re awake officer?”

“A hundred percent, milord,” The aged officer replied.

Lucius reached down his collar and got his family’s gold pendant out. A tiger head engraved on a round medal. He removed it over his head and then tossed it to a thoroughly surprised Faye. The woman grabbed it with both hands and almost dropped it, which caused Lucius and the hawkishly watching her officer some concern, until she finally got her shaking hands under control.

“She caught it sire,” Galio reported, now grinning.

“Lady Faye, I’d like you to be my wife,” Lucius announced without delay looking at her, the stunned redhead turning a little green in the face. “Since you accepted my proposal,” He said and cleared his throat, this part of the plan still as difficult as that first time. “I welcome you to the family.”

“I stand witness,” Galio said solemnly. “All the gods above me.”

“Lucius,” Faye mumbled, looking very pale.

“Wife,” Lucius said smiling, a little worried at the lukewarm reception. He needed to be on the field in twenty minutes to welcome O’ Dargan’s men, so despite wanting something more meaningful, Lucius was on a very tight schedule.

Faye nodded, clasping at the pendant.

“Are you sure? This is…”

“Never had any doubts,” He replied with a half-grin watching her falter, as if she was about to faint.

Good grief.

“You… aye I do. Gods…” Faye stuttered tears rolling down her eyes.

Lucius sighed and stared at his boots.

“Faye, I must say I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic—”

“I’m gonna get sick,” Faye mumbled and run out of the room.

Lucius smacked his lips and glanced at the silent and solemn faced Galio.

“Well,” He said scratching his head. “I mean that was… I should have worked on it some more you think Prefect?”

“I thought it adequate milord.”

“Sure, but… perhaps a romantic ride out to the lake, or something?”

“There are still cremating the fallen milord.”

“There’s that of course,” Lucius grimaced, his face falling. “This ahm… she didn’t appear very pleased.”

“I wouldn’t know sire,” Galio replied all serious. “Married my late sister, but she was a quiet woman aye. Don’t remember her reaction, or if she was present. Everything was done in a couple of minutes.”

“Surely a meeting had occurred beforehand,” Lucius argued. “Iron out the details, properties, titles. Why there’s a ton of stuff to work through.”

“Not much details to talk about sire, or land. It was before I got me property at Alden.”

Right.

“Mayhap a jewelry made? A special one…”

“No jewelry was involved sire. We got two barrels of wine and a good stallion,” The Prefect elucidated. “It was a good deal.”

“Goodness me,” A shocked Lucius cleared his throat unsure. “Does she have a child? I mean before…” Gods, this is a disaster Lucius thought, not expecting what they were talking about. Should I run after her? Now that would rattle the men plenty for sure.

Nope.

Can’t do that.

“Aye she had,” Galio replied. “A learned lad. Sharp as a razor.”

“Another scholar out of the family,” Lucius commented and Galio smiled proudly.

“Aye milord.”

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“Not really, but he was in Alden, when we departed.”

Ages away, Lucius thought.

“Ah, should we look to the men Prefect?” Lucius asked after another awkward pause.

“Aye milord. I will notify the men about the change in yer status.”

“Perhaps, give it a couple of days?” Lucius asked not as certain about what had transpired.

“Ahm, I’m afraid that ship,” The Prefect had answered. “Has sailed milord.”

Immediately after winning the battle of Selm Ailo Lucius moved to occupy Isker Village at the banks of the lake some kilometers away from the newly erected walls of Rockfort that stood directly to their north. Realizing a direct assault on the heavily defended palisade would have been costly in men, he paused for reinforcements to arrive.

Sam O’ Dargan sitting idly across Alford River send almost half his men over the frozen lake and later that day received reinforcements himself, by a hard marching Oscar Steele that arrived to his camp bringing with him almost five hundred of Jarl’s warriors. There was a row in the Northman leader’s tent over Mad Wolf’s refusal to give up his sister and Zofia O’ Dargan realizing she might be in trouble, escaped dressed as a warrior with the last of Lucius reinforcements.

Oscar Steele learned about it and despite Sam’s objections brought his men over as well, the Northmen camping outside the village. While details are murky on this part, a newly wed Lucius was informed that the Northmen were prepared to storm his camp to get the Jarl’s missing daughter.

Dirk Curd who was probably involved with the unruly Zofia challenged Oscar to a duel to solve the dispute, but the Jarl’s man denounced the mix-breed and assaulted him during their conversation. A fight broke out, Sam’s Northmen supporting Zofia with some of Kaeso’s men involved, getting to blows with Northmen supporting Steele. People got killed, with the defenders watching from afar, until Lucius and the First Century stepped in to stop it.

Lucius, who was under enormous pressure to continue the campaign with time running out and block the road to Rockfort, faced a big dilemma there, as the majority of the Jarl’s forces were unwilling to continue marching beyond the old Northern city they were sieging.

For them the campaign was over.

“Where is he?” Lucius asked, a scowling Centurion Trupo guarding the door to his longhouse.

“Lady Zofia is in your quarter’s milord. Mister Curd is standing at the door and Mister Steele has asked for the soldiers to leave them.”

“There would be no more fighting,” Lucius told him and burst inside the longhouse. Oscar sitting on a table at one corner looking ruffled, blood on his mail and his knuckles swollen. Four legionnaires fully armed were present and Curd of course, standing on the other side in from the door leading to the bedroom. The mix-breed had a bloody cut on his jaw that didn’t bother wiping away.

“Lord Alden,” Oscar grunted seeing him walking in. “This is an outrage! I was assaulted by yer mix-breed! Two of my men are dead!”

“Your men killed three of Sam’s people Steele,” Lucius snapped angry. “In my camp!”

“Bah, I told ye to give up the girl,” Oscar retorted and got up frustrated. “The Jarl wants her back in Ludr Lucius,” He pointed a finger at a scowling Curd. “That man needs to be put down!”

“Are ye gonna do it Oscar?” Dirk taunted him. “Ye weren’t that willin’ when ye had the chance.”

“Dirk that’s enough!” Lucius growled, glaring his way. “What is this? Are we fighting amongst ourselves now?” This he said to both of them.

“There’s no need for any fighting,” Oscar told him. “Give up the girl and we’re done.”

“Ye ain’t getting her Oscar,” Dirk warned him.

“Ah, I will,” Oscar told him with a smirk. “Jarl agreed to it. I just have to get rid of yer bastard first.”

“You will not,” Lucius said. “Zofia is under my protection.”

Oscar smacked his lips. “The campaign is over lad.”

“You will address me as Legatus in my camp!” Lucius blasted him. “We aren’t friends Mister Steele, or equal in station!”

Oscar spat down and eyed him tauntingly.

“We take Rockfort with or without ye Legatus,” He finally said. “Sam will come around and this dog will have his head cut off, when you leave these lands.”

Lucius breathed slowly to calm himself down.

“How will you take Rockfort?” He asked the leering Northman.

“We’ll wait them out,” Steele replied.

“What happens if Lord Vanzon arrives?”

“That’s months away.”

“One? Two?” Lucius taunted him.

“Enough time.”

“Then what? Fight him all over again?” Lucius asked him. “Is that your plan?”

Steele shrugged his shoulders. “It’s how it is. It will be years for Vanzon to recover and we will be firmly prepared by then.”

“Fine,” Lucius said. “Fix your men for a siege here and over the river.”

“What about Zofia?”

“You ain’t getting her,” Lucius replied. “She will come with me.”

“To Regia?” Steele showed him his teeth. “I thought you were married Legatus.”

“She will follow me on campaign, Mister Steele,” Lucius rustled. “I intend to head over to Krakenfort.”

“You will march on Krakenfort?” Oscar stood back shocked. “In the middle of winter?”

“Caravans do it,” Lucius replied.

Oscar shook his head. “The Jarl will never agree to send his men so far.”

“Men are free to go wherever they want,” Lucius retorted eyeing him. “The lands beyond Rockfort don’t belong to the Jarl.”

“Who do they belong to?” Steele asked him.

“When this campaign is over, you will have your answer,” Lucius replied.

Lucius looked at a silent Faye, before turning his eyes on Zofia. Her baby was sleeping soundly on his bed.

“What did Steele say?” Zofia asked him, looking worried.

“Your father wants you back,” Lucius said tiredly.

“I ain’t marrying him Lucius,” Zofia replied. “He wants my son killed.”

Lucius nodded.

“Steele is a snake,” Faye added. “He doesn’t believe in our gods.”

“What does he believe in?” Lucius asked her. She looked a bit better now. Her sickness not present.

“The Painted God,” Faye replied with a shrug.

“Never heard of that,” Lucius admitted. “What does he promise this god of his?”

“Oscar thinks he’ll never die,” Faye replied. “Or something like that. Everyone in Bloden Port are like that, since that priest came.”

“What does the Jarl think?”

“Oscar is loyal to him, it’s all that matters for my father,” Zofia replied.

“I’m not letting them get your baby,” Lucius assured her.

“What will you do? If they take Rockfort, the Jarl will turn towards the Crulls.”

“He can’t fight them. If he crosses the Montfoot he’ll face the same problem,” Lucius explained. “Even if he wins, the most he’ll gain is a fort that’s been burned and rebuilt a couple of times since I’ve arrived here. How will he take Eaglesnest? The moment he threatens it, the Crulls will ask the Lake Lords for help. What happens if Kaltha sends an army up here? Or Midlanor? Does he even understand how many men the High King can send against him? What if Lesia gets involved? Sovya even.”

“Regia?” Zofia asked looking at him. “Will your father fight him again? Will you?”

Lucius sighed.

“I came here to make an alliance with the North. Granted I had a different idea, where the North started, or where it ended. A different problem, just needs a different solution.”

“What does this mean?”

“I want Sam’s men to follow me. Will your brother agree?”

“Those that crossed the lake, are here to protect me,” Zofia said what he’d suspected. “There’s not much else he can do.”

“What about Curd?”

“He’ll protect his son,” Zofia said simply, looking away.

“And you?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to win this war,” Lucius said after a thoughtful moment. “Before Rockfort falls. Then we will talk with the Jarl again about proper strategy and treaties. But by then I might be less inclined to accommodate his wishes.”

Stormbolt neighed, the wind blowing down Abrakas Gorge drowning it. Lucius stooped on the saddle and patted his frosted mane with affection. “I promise I’ll get you back on thick grass covered fields old boy,” He told him and glanced at Faye riding close next to him. The torch carrying legionnaires slowly marching up the sloped terrain, the shadows created amidst the whitebark trees long.

Distorted.

Barely human.

A long row of military carts and packed animals were following. Lucius force had almost doubled in size already and the supply train had grown exponentially along with it. Many civilians were following. Widows and orphans that wanted a second chance. Amongst the many fresh recruits joining, a large number of mix-breeds, even defectors of Vanzon’s force. The majority lured by the presence of one of their own so near the Legatus and the fear of the Jarl’s forces occupying the lands they had found safe haven for so many years.

“Are you well?” Lucius asked his approaching wife and she smiled. Her hand capped his over the reins, fingers clutching him tight.

“Never been better, Alden,” Faye replied with a large smile despite the bitter cold of the Northern night.

“I could have been a bit more delicate the other day,” Lucius admitted and she shook her head that fox tail she’d installed on her helm -despite his objections- dancing right and left.

“Yer wife is not a delicate woman,” Faye Numbers had told him, her eyes shining in the light of the passing torches. “But she’s with child.”

Lucius and his cohorts would march west over Jelin’s Edge plateau following the ancient frozen road for almost a month. The journey a testament of will for those not accustomed to the climate like the Legatus himself and even for the hardened Northmen. Working together, men and women, soldiers, civilians and animals following behind them, they build a camp at every stop and huddled together under the angry skies.

Lucius even traveled further to the North one day, according to some accounts and reached the lip of the plateau overlooking the distant coast that marked the end of the continent. The coast itself tiny under their feet, this side of the plateau standing almost a kilometer in height. He looked through his spyglass at the massive sprouting icebergs, these silent, blinding white and slow moving mountains. He tried to imagine what stood beyond the frozen ocean, even asked aloud frustrated and ‘Hulking’ Layton standing tall beside him laughed hard for long, then stooping looked into his frosted over face and told him.

‘Yalca. The land of the tall people’, Layton had said allegedly and when Lucius queried whether he meant as tall as him, the giant had laughed equally hard and then corrected the celebrated Legatus. ‘Tiny’, Layton had said pointing a finger at a stunned Lucius. ‘Normal’, turning that finger on himself with a goofy smile and then spun his trunk like arm to the North and added.

‘Tall people.’

Fanciful tales aside, Lucius reached the mountains of iron near Krakenfort either on the twelfth week of his campaign, or the thirteenth, at the end of what the people now call the five hundred kilometers march.

That same month he turned twenty eight. He’d married Faye ‘Scarlet’ Numbers before the march had started, the woman -fiercely loved today by the Third Legion’s veterans- pregnant to his child. What had started as a single Century that previous summer, was now two full Cohorts.

‘The Legatus’, as Centurion Gladius Tutor wrote in his war diary, ‘had almost had his Legion.’

Lord Sirio Veturius

The Fall of Heroes

Chapter II

(Legatus Lucius Alden,

Northern campaigns,

A Hundred Days

Volume III, 13th week,

Third Month of Winter

1st & 2nd Cohort

-500 kilometers, a Scarlet Wife &

The Land of Tall People.)

Winter of 190 NC