Augustas Fridgia leaned forward, his hands planted on the side of the table, placing his head directly above the figures positioned upon the map, representing his forces as well as those of the Kin. He wasn't resting or attempting to soothe the knots in his back, though those were distinctly distracting. No, his actions were to place himself in the midst of the coming battle to help him visualize events, like when he extended his domain. Except nothing had changed for at least the last two minutes.
Eyes flicking to the side, Augustas looked at the quick thumping of feet that were rapidly slowing and turned into a fast walk as a messenger swept past the tent flaps. Taking a couple of quick steps to clear the entry way, the legionary passed a note off to one of the tribunes before saluting and exiting the tent again. He wasn't gone, simply taking up a spot outside, waiting for his orders through a mental link without getting in the way.
Still not speaking, the tribune read the message, then moved and picked up another marker, scrolling through the numbered faces and placing it down a couple of miles northeast of the camp. Really, the marker was misleading and did not accurately convey the danger it represented. It couldn't, because there was no marker that separated the Kin and beastkin.
The few-inch-tall hexagon was several inches wide, and on top were five wheels with the numbers zero through nine on each. They were designed to represent beastkin hoards numbering in the tens and potentially hundreds of thousands, not a single band of Kin barely more than five hundred. And yet the potential threat of that force was ten times greater than what the number would historically depict.
Combine the latest arrivals with the literally more than four thousand Kin positioning themselves around the legion, a number that was still growing, and Augustas had a lot to be concerned about. Honestly, he would rather be facing a beastkin horde five times larger than his own legion.
It was easy to predict and plan for the mindless, but someone with intellect, well, you could never really know what they would do. They could waver and fall apart at the first sign of danger, or they could lead you into a trap at the cost of their life.
"I believe that confirms they have paths leading down the cliff to both the east and west." Prefect Opious grumbled.
"Both sides?" Squeaked Legatus Kellaport from his stool at the head of the table, "There goes any idea of sending the mercenaries to find and destroy their path down to the east. How did we miss it? Was our detector not performing his duty?"
"Doubtful. At every patrol, they discovered Kin attempting some manner of descent down the cliff sides. It was to the point that the knights and scouts were having trouble dealing with all of them."
"Distractions." Augustas declared cutting in. "I suspected as much, but I hoped otherwise. They must have gone a half-day's march or more out to each flank before constructing their real attempts. However, the point is moot. They are here now, and thanks to the scanner, we must have pushed their schedule back by days, which is more than we could have asked for. But now we must focus on what to do next."
"And what would that be, Milord?" The legatus of the 14th asked, sounding almost relieved to have the decision taken from his hands. At the question, the consistent but quiet bustle of a dozen aids slowed, as everyone turned their attention to what he was going to say next.
Distantly, Augustas could feel their attention focus on him, but he paid it no mind. His eyes flicked to the markers far to the south, marking where his son and a squad of knight escorts should be. Miles to either side, they had reports of Kin, but they would not be able to stop Justinian's escape.
So that left what Justinian should be heading toward, and that should be his final hope. Augustas Fridgia wasn't willing to believe that his actions of ransacking his way across the vineyards would be allowed to go unanswered. At least two legions and a handful of high nobles had to be coming to apprehend him, or at least make him pay reparations before stripping his rank.
And that force had to be close. The weather might have slowed them down, but they had to be within a day or two of easy marching. His entire life, both in terms of the time he spent in the legions and in high society interacting with other nobles, told him that more legions were close.
Yet, it was still a bet. Miracles happened all the time. Augustas and his actions were not the center of the world, and events outside of his knowledge and planning occurred, and had the potential to undermine his efforts.
Over the days in which his legion, the last of his people, remained camped at the base of the third step, that was his greatest worry. The same nagging thoughts kept repeating in the back of his mind, keeping him up as he closed his eyes, struggling to sleep. When would his presumed killers arrive? Did something he had no knowledge of cause them to be sidetracked?
No, they would come… eventually, and that was the problem. However, there was the possibility, no matter how minor, that the looming war with the Imperium could have already broken out, and they would wait until after that settled down before sending legions to Ironhold. It was unlikely, given that as of slightly over a week ago, they had heard no rumors of it from the merchants they gingerly robbed.
Which was another problem. Sure, Augustas ensured the merchants received some coin, though it wasn't enough to cover the full cost of their goods. The noble did, however, write promissory notes that what was taken would be covered by the Senate, as the items were requisitioned for the good of the Republic.
It was technically accurate, both in that they would get paid and in that the 14th needed the supplies, but neither was the actual motivation behind his action. The high lord didn't think it would work out as well as those who lost their goods would wish.
If they were paid, it would take months, if not years, of wading through a bureaucratic mess, a fact anyone with half a mind would realize. Which meant that every chance they got, the merchants would spread the news of what had happened to them. They would be disseminating the information that he was using the Senate's authority. Another reason that they would come.
Except now, all of that had been lifted from his shoulders. Kin from both the east and west have been spotted gathering around the camp, numbering approximately five thousand in total. They weren't a serious threat, as the groups couldn't be called anything close to organized, but the numbers were sufficient that, unless the 14th was willing to put a concerted effort into it, they would not be able to move far beyond their walls. In short, it was a screening force to keep the Olimpians in place while the real fighters got into position.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
There would be no more escape from their predicament, not without the intervention of some serious aid. And the longer they lasted, the greater that chance became. With the slow and steady approach of the rapidly coming battle, his options had become narrowed rather significantly. And with that knowledge came liberation and clarity. And at the very least, he will have saved his son.
"What else would we do? We are going to stand until we are relieved, as the north always has." Lord Fridgia declared, after he finally emerged from his thoughts. At his words, the legionaries within the tent perked up, standing straighter and sticking out their chests in pride.
"Understood, milord," Kellaport said, bowing his head, though his mouth was tight as his lips were pressed into a line. He was the loudest voice in advocating for the legion retreating to the first step.
The desire could have been out of cowardice, but his arguments were all thought out and reasonable. And honestly, without Leeroy allowing them to safely buy time, or the weather empowering his castings, Augustas probably would have had no choice but to attempt one of his suggestions. But that was in the past now, and it was a mark in the man's favor that he recognized and accepted that fact.
Looking back at the table, the noble pointed to the east, then west, "Double our patrols and harass the Kin if they attempt to set up fortifications, make sure the boys know that skirmishing is not something they should avoid. I want the eighth cohort to have half of their centuries constantly manning the camps' battlements. Instruct the engineers to construct runners here and here in secret, and have them ready to deploy at a moment's notice. I want the seventh and ninth cohorts to gear up, but wait in their tents for their next orders. Instruct the third and fourth cohorts to break up and appear disorganized and spread out, as if their leadership cannot decide whether to defend the flanks or support the prime. And have the mercenaries, fifth, and sixth cohorts make a show of slowly exiting the camp to the south and forming up in a disorganized battle formation."
"What are your intentions, milord?" Legatus Kellapont asked, confused by the commands.
"Until now, the Kin have acted with subterfuge backed by decisive action. The patrols reported that the first Kin they spotted only revealed themselves once they were close. I also remember being told that they were able to conceal more than a hundred ships on the Rush… So what are the odds that there is a force out there waiting to attack the moment we show weakness?"
"A brilliant supposition, Lord Fridgia," declared Prefect Opious, putting a lot of effort into sounding supportive.
The man was a sycophant, but a competent tribune, so Fridgia turned to him and ordered, "Take personal command of the southern side of the camp, and when the battle starts, send what forces you don't need back into reserve."
"Yes, Milord!" the man said, snapping off a salute before exiting the tent.
"What do we do now?" Legatus Kellaport asked, his voice uncertain.
"We wait and watch, of course." The high lord said, unconscious of the grin splitting his face that was making the other man uneasy. "And respond when the Kin make their next move."
Most of an hour passed, and just like Augustas expected, the ring of Kin slowly closed around them. While around five hundred more showed up, as far as their eyes were concerned, the skirmishes were all alone, just waiting for a cohort or two to move out and push them back.
On the northern side of the camp, the fighting had already started as the wolves made another push down the switchbacks, except this time their mages made themselves known by raining elemental attacks down and empowering their warriors. For the first time in days, the legionaries were really being pressed, and Augustas even sent some knights to support the prime cohort.
Still, the attack the noble expected never arrived, so he started playing games he would never do in any other situation. The Imperium would never, not for one second, believe that a legion camp was as disorganized as he was ordering his men to make theirs appear. But what did the Kin really know other than rumors and one battle?
So as they were rolling into the second hour after his orders, Fridgia had the legionaries of the second cohort start running around wildly within the camp, rushing about as if they didn't know where to go or what to do. Centuries formed seemingly disorganized masses, shouting at each other over contradictory orders. And then there was the assembly on the southern side of the camp, which was the longest mustering of legionaries Fridgia had ever borne witness to.
And finally, whether they were acting due to some grand strategy or because they were getting tired of waiting for a better opportunity, three warbands of Kin appeared around the legion. In a rush that would outpace the wind, four tendrils from each of the camp's towers streaked across the space between them. They slammed into Fridgias' mind, showing images and impressions of the warriors even as the union expanded to connect the entire legion.
With the newly appeared warriors and the already existing skirmishers, a force of around four thousand was rushing to engage those mustering at the south, releasing howls that Augustas could clearly hear. Except that was all a distraction. The real threat, and where he expected to contain the best troops, was angling toward the northern side of the camp. From both the west and east, the Kin were sprinting to cut off the switchbacks from the camp, an area that had just become far more intense with its fighting as birdkins swooped down.
There were more than Fridgia anticipated, but what actually occurred was exactly what he had expected. Signaling the third and fourth to defend the earthworks of the spurs guarding the flanks of the switchback, he then instructed more chaos to erupt within the camp, just in case those invisible flyers he knew were somewhere overhead had live communications to the warriors below.
Battle lines were drawn, and it soon became clear that the hardest hit would be the eighth cohort. Even with the best defenses, there was a lot of space to cover, as they were spread over two of the camp's flanks. "Prefect Opious, I am sending the second cohort to reinforce the 8th. I would appreciate it if you could extract a cohort to take their place in reserve as quickly as possible."
"Understood, Lord Fridgia. I almost have my line stabilized and will send them back into the camp within the quarter hour."
"I appreciate the alacrity, but there is no rush, Prefect. Do not take any risks." The high noble responded, receiving a mental confirmation, but only a small portion of his focus was on that side of the battle, as he watched the third and fourth cohorts as they were pushed off the earthworks in the center of their lines. If any of the Kin bothered to look around, they might wonder why only the center was being pushed back, and even there, there were no breaks in the actual line, even after half an hour of fighting.
"Now," whispered the high noble. At Augustas's words, all those legionaries waiting in their tents burst out of them and rushed to form up behind the engineers who lifted and dropped four twenty-foot-wide sections of cast stone to act as bridges over the trenches on the northern corners of the camp.
In less than a minute, two thousand legionaries were colliding into the back ranks of the Kin and were quickly moving to entirely envelop them. Acting in conjunction, the third and fourth cohorts stopped retreating and started fighting in earnest, slowly cutting down the trapped and increasingly panicked wolves.
"Congratulations, Lord Fridgia," Legatus Kellaport said, his eyes glowing as he watched the figurines move in real time, their counters decreasing with every Kin a legionary killed. "I do not believe anyone could have managed a more perfect envelopment."
"Thank you, Kellaport. However, this battle is far from over, but I do believe its fate has been decided."
"What do you think they are going to do now?"
It only took a moment for Augustas to decide, "If I were them, I would cut my losses and prepare for a night assault. Although if they are willing to send their birds down here to support their forces, I will be more than willing to entertain them." A blood thirsty grin of anticipation appeared on the man's face as his eyes glinted in the light at the thought.
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