Re: A House Divided [A SAI 355 Campaign AAR]
Chapter X: Internal affairs
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The old fort suddenly came to life. The soldiers were running around, putting on armour and preparing their bows.
Flavius Ursinicus was woken up by the cries of his troops.
The small fort in the African mountains was often a target for raiders, but this time his men were screaming like little girls!
He put on his old Lorica Hamata and his spatha, walking out into the dark, warm, African night.
There were two hundred crew members in this fort. Two hundred men, mostly locals.
Ursinicus commanded them, two hundred cowards.
He was too a local, a Berber, but he fled from his home at an early age, joining the mighty Roman army, dreaming of far away places. Instead of seeing far away places he sent to serve in an old, dusty fort for the rest of his life!
He wasn’t always a commander, and he still was not. He commanded this fort only because the actual commander was on leave.
“What is going on?” He asked one of the men that stood outside the headquarters.
“Sir, you should see this.” The man said as he pointed towards the walls.
Life in the Roman army was good for Ursinicus. There was food, drink, money and women! What more could he ask for? Adventures, he could ask for adventures! At the age of forty three he still hasn’t left the dusty province of Mauretania. His life has come down to fighting off bandits and guarding cattle.
He climbed onto the walls and looked down, on the road leading to the fort. This road was leading from the fort into the wilderness, into the Southern deserts.
There was a lone rider beneath the walls, just waiting there, with a torch in hand.
“Who are you and what is your business here?! Introduce yourself!” Ursinicus shouted from the walls at the stranger.
He was most likely one of the Berbers coming to trade, but who comes to trade in the middle of the night?
The man spoke something in his rough language.
“Sir, the man is saying that…” One of the soldiers tried to say something, but Ursinicus raised his hand, and the soldier was stopped in the middle of his sentence.
“I know what he is saying, soldier, open the gates!” He shouted.
“Sir, are you sure that it is wise to open the gates? We know who he is! That man is not alone sir!” Another one of the soldiers complained.
“I know, soldier, now shut up or I will shut you up! I SAID OPEN THE GATES!” Ursinicus shouted even louder and the gates slowly opened.
He drew his spatha as he walked out of the fort to meet the rider.
Two of his men went with him. They were scared, for they knew well enough who that man was, and what could happen to them.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” Ursinicus asked the man in the same language that the stranger spoke before.
“You know well enough what I want.”
“Do I?” Ursinicus asked defiantly.
The stranger removed his hood, revealing a bearded face with several battle scars.
He shouted something into the darkness behind him, and, out of nowhere, several dozen riders came towards the fort, each one of them fully armed.
Ursinicus’ escorts drew their swords, and the men on the walls said their prayers.
The Berber horns sounded, and more people appeared from the surrounding hills, thousands of them. They seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Ursinicus recognized the man. The man was Bodinelqart, his greatest enemy…
“I want this fort, my friend, and the men in it! The Romans have ruled our lands for too long, it is time for us to rise up and crush them!” The horseman said.
“Now, you will either join us, or die. It would be such a shame for so many good men to die. Wouldn’t it be a shame, Philosir?” The horseman asked Ursinicus, who turned pale.
He remembered his old name, Philosir. He was the youngest in his big family. To them he was always “little Philosir”. No more, now he was Flavius Ursinicus, the commander of a small fort in a God forgotten place.
He was Flavius Ursinicus and the man on the horse was Bodinelqart, his greatest foe, his brother…
“So, little brother? Will you join us?” Bodinelqart asked.
Ursinicus looked at Aztaph, his best friend and his fellow centurion.
Aztaph slowly nodded his head in silence.
“Alright, brother. But under one condition!” Ursinicus said.
“Say, little brother, anything for you.” Bodinelqart said and smiled.
“All those soldiers that don’t want to join us must walk away freely, brother. That is my conditon. Either they walk away, or we fight.” Ursinicus said, determined to make an impression on his long lost brother.
“Alright, brother. Now will you please give your men the news?” Bodinelqart said.
Ursinicus turned around, sheathed his sword and walked towards the fort. Philosir, he thought about his name, his old name. He was no longer Flavius Ursinicus, he was once again Philosir, just Philosir. This was his chance. The Romans couldn’t give him glory, maybe his own people could.
Two weeks later
Verenianus Flavius looked towards the city. Rusaddir was the city’s name. The Berbers occupied it about a week ago. Somehow they got through the limes, through the forts. The men that came to Verenianus told him of treason, and that the Berbers were let through by a disloyal commander. Whatever the case, he had to re take the city.
He commanded the Fourteenth legion. The men were from the tranquil Hispanic provinces, not used to active campaigning. It was Verenianus’ task to change that.
As the men approached the city, they felt more and more excited. They have never been in combat. Never. The army marched from Tingis in utter silence. They were too excited to talk. There was no usual joking around. Just silence.
The men spent hours cleaning their equipment, and sharpening their swords.
Finally, the hour has come. Now they will make a name for themselves.
The enemy was far more numerous, and they were commanded by an able man. This surely won’t be an easy one.
As soon as the troops were deployed, the enemy charged forth. They were eager to fight, eager to die!
As the enemy horsemen approached, the limitanei untied their spears, and they got ready to unleash hell upon the enemy.
Closer, closer, closer…
The enemy was approaching one step at a time, their sharp spears pointed towards the brave Romans.
Our spears are unleashed, and the enemy falls by the dozen.
Either killed by spear, or crushed by horse, the enemy dies.
They do the only thing that they can do properly, flee…
As soon as the enemy horsemen flee, the infantry moves in to fill the gap. Countless filthy Moors fall upon our lines.
The auxilia prove to be an excellent bait, and most of the enemy army is lured out of the city.
Verenianus is afraid that the auxilia might break, so he moves in with his cavalry to help.
The Moors are soon trapped between two Roman forces and they soon rout.
With the Moors crushed, the Fourteenth moves in to finish off the last enemy forces.
Some Moors were killed, but their brethren soon came at us again.
The two forces clash, and the Fourteenth moves in even closer.
The Berbers are driven back and the Quartodecimani pursue them into the city.
After this, it is over quickly. As soon as the enemy tries to make a stand, the Fourteenth breaks them!
Bodinelqart is soon found and killed. That happens to all that defy Rome!
After the battle, all that remains are corpses, endless corpses…
Victory is ours!
Ursinicus was swinging his sword wildly. He killed many Romans, the same men that he called friends until a month ago. He was exhausted, with the heat and the enemy wanting to kill him. He was sweating heavily under his armour, hoping to survive this fight. The battle was clearly lost, and his brother was slain. The Romans will have no mercy, that was certain.
There were too many… Just too many.
He was thinking about his little dusty fort in the mountains and what would have happened if he told his brother no that day.
What if…
The words rung out in his head as a Roman hit him on the head, knocking him unconscious.
He was awaken by the Romans later on, from what he could see it was already dusk. The man bent over him, and Ursinicus recognized him. It was one of his former soldiers.
The soldier didn’t recognize him, he couldn’t. By this point, Ursinicus’ face was overgrown in a beard and all bloody from the battle. The soldier asked him for his name several times.
Urisnicus was too embarrassed to speak, he was to embarrassed to say his Roman name, he knew that he let his comrades down, so he just silently muttered… “Philosir”
Verenianus was pleased with the victory. Very pleased.
The people of the city were spared, but there were not many. When the Moors took it over, they took many slaves, and now it was Verenianus’ job to find those people. As he looked through the window of the dark room he was in he thought about the future, about the Fourteenth. The men celebrated him after the victory, naming him Africanus, Imperator and bestowing upon him all sorts of honours.
He remembered that he was worried before the battle. He was afraid that his men would not make it.
Now, after the battle, he didn’t have to worry anymore. The men were brave, the men were confident, and the men were his…
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Originally Posted by LoveMuffinBoy
So yes, a great story which I'm really enjoying so far, with lots of little threads to keep you going and obviously the larger picture of Julian battling against the barbarians (and winning, I might add!) which is always a bonus!
