The Ultimate Spoils (Tumultus Chronicles Book 1) by Nathan R. Mancini

Author:Nathan R. Mancini [Mancini, Nathan R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Park Street Publishing Pty Ltd
Published: 2021-02-20T22:00:00+00:00

VII

‘Crush your foes utterly so you need not fight again.'

First Centurion Victor Kaeso, Fourth Legion.

Beneath the shadow of his legion’s bronze-fist standard, General Rufus Horatius studied the scene before him with a bitter gaze. He stood in full battle plate, steadfast in the face of the strong mountain breeze that blew against him. Pinned to his shoulders, the general’s long crimson cloak snapped and fluttered behind him in the wind. Around Horatius the members of his legion staff regarded their surroundings with similarly reserved expressions.

‘Salve General,’ said Corvinus, raising his hand in greeting, consciously trying to conceal the pain of his injuries. ‘On behalf of my father as Consul, I welcome you to the field. We are honoured to have our illustrious brothers of the Tenth Legion join us against the enemies of Arcem.’

Horatius grunted at this.

Corvinus had heard it said that Horatius was a cold man, an unyielding if not heartless commander. But he had not expected the general to be so blatantly rude. In the spirit of unity though, Corvinus decided to ignore the man’s disinterest.

‘Let me introduce my military staff,’ Corvinus continued, ‘this is Tribune Bantius, Third Legion. Tribune Fulvio, Fourth Legion. First Centurion-’

‘Explain this,’ Horatius interrupted in a voice gruff from a lifetime of shouting orders in battle.

Corvinus followed the man’s gaze to the buzz of activity behind them, where his legions were busy disposing of the dead in the aftermath of the night’s battle. All along the slopes of the mountain, massive funeral pyres burned, sending black trails of smoke up into the clear morning sky.

‘As of last night, the Evastii threat has been shattered,’ said Corvinus proudly. ‘What you see now are twenty thousand dead tribesmen – the result of a raid I led during the midnight hours.’

‘Twenty thousand?’ said a soldier from Horatius’ retinue with a thick foreign accent. Judging by the gold medals affixed to the man’s heavy armour plates, he was a First Centurion.

‘Be quiet Germanus,’ growled Horatius. The First Centurion bowed his head in obedience. ‘Ignore my man, he knows not when to hold his tongue.’

‘That is quite unnecessary,’ said Corvinus, unsure of how to respond. Next to him, Corvinus saw First Centurion Valko stiffen with unease at the general’s conduct. Tribunes Fulvio and Bantius however were unmoved and watched on in silence.

‘Twenty thousand?’ repeated Horatius, looking up at the pyres.

‘That is the initial count,’ said Corvinus, smiling, ‘the prefects are still going over the final tally but it is safe to say Arcem has won a great victory here.’

‘Tribune Fulvio,’ said General Horatius, disregarding Corvinus, ‘your name is known to me, tell me what has occurred here.’

Fulvio glanced at Corvinus and paused before answering, clearly still resentful towards the whole situation.

‘It is as General Corvinus says,’ said the tribune bitterly, forcing the words out. ‘The enemy has been routed and though I have yet to speak with the Camp Prefect, the initial reports put their fallen at approximately twenty thousand men.’

Horatius ran a hand through his short trimmed, salt-and-pepper hair and nodded, finally accepting this information.

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