[RS 1.5] The Scipio Family [Romani AAR]

[Ownager]

536 AUC,
During the Second Punic War, the turmoil and conflict among the senators was reminiscent of a school brawl. Although no one was throwing punches, some too old to try and others too young to dare, there was a heated discussion. It was not often that the Legions of Rome were defeated. Although only a few thousand men had fallen at River Trebia, the loss still angered the Roman Senate. There were a few who were arguing that peace was a better option, and these were the people who were the target of all the Senators fears and anger.
"Peace is our only option!"
A young man called out. His name was Herius Vittelius Polus, an ambitious yet somewhat cowardly man by nature. A few of the older senators, who had never seen Roma surrender to any enemy argued back.
"Hamilcar Barca made Hannibal swear to destroy us!" One man called out, a wizened senator named Manilus.
"Rome has never surrendered!" A young man yelled boldly.
"How will we deal with the Celts when Hannibal leaves? He will not stop them from jumping into our lands, and our defenses are weak." A military strategist turned politician named Aulus Lucullus called out from one of the upper seats.


All this time, Publius Cornelius Scipio the Younger had been silent. But now he rose. Very few people noticed the boy who had just left behind childhood, not even a wisp of hair on his strong chin. Yet he walked with an air of dignity. He stood in front of the entire council, which had split into two sides. The minority was the group who were vying for peace, on his left. On his right were the war supporters. Publius picked up a mallet and smashed a gong hanging nearby. The Senators hushed as the session was started. Publius got the honor of setting the agenda for the session, as the Senators listened, some of the younger ones mocking him.


"First, we shall decide on a course of action and send out orders to our Praetor Gaius Flaminius Nepos." He called out, in a shrill voice. Some of the older senators smirked, but did nothing. "Second, we will debate the alliances with the East. The Makedonians have sent us an envoy requesting a revision of the Trade agreements we had, particularly about the sea agreements." He stated. Some of the Senators began to move in their seats, waiting for the upstart to leave the announcers podium. After the last agenda, he bowed. The senators waited for him to leave, and he did. He moved to a corner of the Room, next to the door. The Senators began their discussion.
"Order the Praetor to request a cease fire!" Herius called out. Another nodded. "Maybe we should send a diplomat." He said thoughtfully. The uproar that came from the other side of the Senate was tremendous. It was amazing to hear so much noise coming from old men and young boys, with very few in the prime of their life. Yet there was a defeaning cacophony that came from the voices of the offended Senators, young and old. The ones who were of medium age had joined the Legions as Tribunes, or else they had become Quaestors. But the young and old, the most headstrong types of people were all that was left. The young were desperate to prove themselves, the old were inflicting their fear of death on their enemies.


The harsh blend of voices made sure that no one was heard, until one Senator called out in a booming voice. This Senator was middle aged, the only one who had not rushed to join the Legions for the exciting war, or taken advantage of the relatively vacant Political occupations and become a Quaestor. He was still young compared to the older Senators, but he was much older than the young upstarts who couldn't keep their mouths shut. "Silence!" He yelled out with his great voice.
Manilus yelled out as well. "Shut your trap Kaeseo. Just because you didn't have the guts to go join the war, doesn't mean we will shy away from the Punae and Hannibal Barca." He said indignantly. Kaeseo Helvius Parnesius shook his head. "Thank Jupiter I didn't, or else we might be forced to listen to your nonsense." He said quietly. Even when he spoke softly, his voice carried across the Senate. There was raucous laughter from the youth, but the older Senators sat quietly. Manilus reddened while the laughter died down. He was about to speak when Herius interrupted him. "You look like an overripe tomato, and I'm not talking only about your face." He said, gesturing towards Manilus' stomach. The round-bellied Senator opened his mouth furiously, then closed it. Whether any words came out would never be known, as the laughter that erupted was defeaning, and the indignant Senator sat down. It was almost a minute until the laughter died down. Some of the other Senators bent over to cover their own bellies. Many of the others shook their heads and left. Slowly the trickle became a flood, and for the First time, the Senate emptied itself. Only Kaeseo stood there, a bemused smile on his face. He shook his head and left too, leaving Publius Cornelius Scipio alone. What would happen next would be a clash between Titans. The might of Carthage piled up with the greatest general since more than a hundred years, versus the most disciplined fighting force ever seen since the reign of Alexander, commanded by some of the finest men in all of Italy.


Marcus Aurelius Scipio was surprised by how afraid he felt. Just a few hours ago, he had been walking with a distinct swagger, patting friends on the back and strapping his armor on while walking. He had been aware of the hiding he would have gotten for such a show of indiscipline, but had no fear. Now, he was afraid of the shoulder straps of a soldier in his cohort. Sure, he was too short to see what was happening in front of him, but he didn't need to see his death for it to happen. He glanced nervously behind him. The soldier behind him was staring blankly ahead, not blinking or moving. Marcus was tempted to reach over and poke him, when the centurion barked orders. The soldier lurched forward, and Marcus turned hurriedly and kept walking. Hannibal. The name stuck in his head. Rome had not faced a general this good with an army this strong since King Pyrrhus of Epirus. Marcus smiled. Hannibal was not his problem. A few days ago, one of the roman horsemen had got into an argument with him that had turned into a shoving match. The arrogant soldier had ridden his horse into Marcus' back during training, and Marcus had slashed at him. The soldier fell off his horse when he tried to dodge the blow. The horse had run away immediately, and the soldier had blamed Marcus. Thankfully the Centurion had come between them before they could exchange blows. So Marcus was not one bit worried for the Roman horsemen, who would have to deal with the Carthaginian heavy cavalry and Hannibal himself. Meanwhile, the foot infantry would most likely have the difficult job of facing the enemy infantry, which was okay with Marcus since he was in the second to last row of the cohort.


"Form Testudo!" Came the order from the Centurion. Marcus was dragged out of his thoughts. He immediately squeezed closer to the soldier next to him, and raised his shield high above him. The soldier he was squished next to had a hole in his sheath, so the blade of his sword kept poking Marcus leg. Before Marcus could point it out, thuds began to ring off the shields of his comrades. Marcus listened for a few seconds, and correctly assumed that the enemy slingers were the ones doing the attacking. As they marched forward ever so slowly, Marcus realized that they were wading through the Allied cohorts. He realized that the Testudines were being used to draw enemy fire so the allied cohorts were protected. "Break Formation!" Came the gruff order from right behind him, where the Centurion stood. Marcus waited for his comrades to move further apart so he didn't hit anyone in the head, then let his shield drop to his side. Immediately a hail of stones took a few lives in front of him. The ranks of soldiers stopped him from seeing who had fallen, but they didn't stop him from hearing the soldiers' death cries. The centurion called out another order. "Charge!"


The entire roman infantry line surged forward. Each Centurion designated a particular area where they would fight. Marcus' cohort was assigned to the center. Marcus ran forward, pilum in hand. The entire cohort stopped, vulnerable to enemy attack as the soldiers fumbled for their pila. Then, the cohort stood ready, pila bared. The centurion rushed to the front of the ranks. "Ready.....Fire!" He roared. The entire cohort threw their javelins. The unit was at a slight incline, so Marcus saw his pila miss and hit the grass in front of the unit. His face burned from embarrassment. One of the reasons why he was in the rear was because he had a strong arm, but his first throw in real combat had failed miserably. The soldiers around him groaned or whooped depending on whether they had hit or missed. Before Marcus could ready his second pilum, the Centurion stood proudly in front of the cohort, and with vigor that was unheard of for his age, he yelled. "For Rome!"A few soldiers shouted their approval, most reached for their gladii. The second time the Centurion yelled, the entire cohort replied, except Marcus, who had dropped his second pilum while trying to pull out his Gladius. He bent over to pick it up when the cohort charged. The men behind him rushed forward, smacking him into the dirt as they ran with eagerness. Marcus got to his feet, picked up his pilum and speared an enemy with a mighty throw, all in one motion. Of course, no one saw it, and he gnash end his teeth. He then pulled out his own sword and charged down the incline.


He caught up with his cohort, but barely. The Carthaginian forces had retreated to another incline, and his cohort had slowed down a little when they saw the enemy retreating. "Come on!" The centurion yelled. He ran forward, but suddenly, a unit of Insubres infantry got up from a kneeling position and charged. The centurion was surrounded, and seeing that, the entire cohort surged forward. But then, Hannibals master plan was unleashed. The two Carthaginian infantry units on the left and right of the cohort charged forward, smashing into the wing of an allied cohort that had been trying to help. More barbarian infantry units appeared behind the heavy spearmen, adding pressure to the cohort. The soldiers in front of him immediately stopped running, and Marcus barely managed to stop himself from running directly into the back of a soldier. Behind him, a booming voice called out "Hold!". Marcus turned to see Gaius Flaminius Nepos behind him, with his guard. But Marcus noticed that the enemy forces were pushing through the cohort. He couldn't see the centurion anymore, but he heard a cry that could be no other. He had spent a year being yelled at and ordered around by the man, and he could recognize his voice. He heard the rallying cries of another roman cohort, and saw the first cohort smash into the flanking forces of the Carthaginian general. Trumpets were blaring, but Marcus had no clue why.


Decimus Tiberius Cornelius of the Equites Extraordinarii cursed his smarting ankle as he spurred his horse forward. Even the simple action of tapping his foot against the flank of his horse to encourage it sent a jolt of pain up his leg. He shook his head to shake off the pain, and dug his heels deeper into his horse's flanks. The horse set off on a gallop. Around him, cavalrymen that had been sitting in the grass and drinking diluted wine while they watched the battle got up and stretched. Decimus reached the front of the unit, and looked down at the two armies as they fought. The enemy right flank was being pushed back, but Hannibals forces were pushing through the center. He calculated that there was only 10 feet between where Gaius Flaminius Nepos and his guard stood and the enemy forces. Only a thin line of men from what seemed to be the fifth cohort, although that was only an assumption based on where they were fighting, held the enemy infantry off. Suddenly, a horn blared in the background. Decimus leaned forward on his horse, trying to see where it was coming from. He saw a man dressed in purple lead a cavalry contingent into the roman right flank. The charge was directly to the front, so the casualties were light. Immediately, a roman trumpet blasted from behind the roman infantry line. Gaius Flaminius had his hand raised. "Get up!" Decimus yelled. The roman cavalrymen jumped into action, pulling themselves onto their horses and lining up next to Decimus. "Charge!" The unit commander ordered. The roman horsemen rushed down the hill, aiming at the Carthaginian left flank.


The charge was devastating, as the cavalry smashed into the fanatics that held the far left flank for the Carthaginians. The enemy did not rout, but they had lost a substantial amount of men. Decimus scanned the enemy lines for Hannibal. He noticed the leader retreating to rally his troops. The cavalry commander had seen the same thing, and ordered the cavalry after him. But he had forgotten about the Carthaginian cavalry.


On the far left flank, the roman Triarii were running over to the enemy flank. The action was disguised to look as if they were attempting to protect the flank from enemy cavalry, but with the entire Carthaginian cavalry at the right flank, it was a flimsy cover. Instead of holding position, the allied Triarii began a flanking attack on the Celtic Heavy spearmen, and the fully roman Triarii ran through the enemy rear to help the roman cavalry overcome the enemy cavalry. Gaius Flaminius Nepos began to charge the enemy infantry who had broken through the roman center, and were now flanking the fight cohort. Finally, after what seemed like centuries to Marcus, the roman cavalry came through. Hannibal was obviously dead, but his forces fought on hard. Marcus slew another Libyan, as the cavalry began to chase the routers. The infantry continued to press, and only a determined push by the roman infantry sent them routing.


Just as the main Carthaginian center fell, Quintus Caecilius Metellus and his reinforcements from Arretium arrived on the battlefield. They immediately set about chasing routers, a menial task that was given to them only as a punishment for being late. The great Carthaginian General was gone. Even if a thousand men had escaped, Rome could still claim victory.


Word reached the roman camp that revolts had occurred in Southern Italy. Despite Hannibals defeat, Capua and Tarentum defected from the Roman republic. Publius Cornelius Scipio had been dispatched to face them.


Meanwhile, the army of Gaius Flaminius Nepos besieged Genoa, in an attempt to take the city and rob the Carthaginians of their forward base. Abdeshmun Naraggara and Maharbal had gathered an army to face Gaius outside of Genoa.


Decimus stopped himself from scratching his leg. A medic had applied a poultice where he had hurt his ankle, and any more scratching would make it fall off. He scanned the enemy forces as they approached. Once again the roman cavalry was hidden, but this time, it was to ambush a unit of Numidian cavalry. The cavalry commander got to his feet, and came to where Decimus was standing. "Get the men on their horses. Quietly." He ordered. Decimus went from man to man, telling them to get onto their horses, with as little noise as possible. Once every man was on his horse, Decimus climbed onto his own. The cavalry commander raised his horn, and with a mighty blast, the cavalry swooped forward. The Numidian cavalry had no chance of escape, and as they routed them quickly, the roman cavalry targeted the Libyan heavy cavalry. Another unit of cavalry chased the Balearic slingers, who were inflicting casualties among the allied cohorts.


The roman infantry surged forward, and the battle began. The first enemy army stood little chance, the Garrison of Genoa being massacred quickly. The second army was split into pieces by Maharbal. He ordered some infantry left, some center and some right. This splitting of the forces allowed the roman infantry to crush them one at a time, while the cavalry defeated and killed Maharbal.


In 538 AUC, Gaius Nepos stormed the city of Genoa. As Nepos led the roman column of men through the city, Marcus looked around nervously. His cohort had been spared from the fighting, but the other cohorts were battered. The citizens of Genoa looked on impassively. Marcus had been posted to the front of the cohort, an honor he had earned for his fighting skills during the Battle of Arretium. Right in front of him, Gaius Flaminius Nepo walked, his horse next to him. Gaius turned to look to his right, where a street stretched on, full of roman soldiers. At the same time, Marcus heard a guttural cry. One of the men who had been watching the roman march pulled out his sword and rushed the General. Gaius turned quickly, but he had no time. Marcus hefted the pilum he was carrying, and with one throw, pierced the man through the side. Immediately, a child began crying. Gaius stumbled and fell on his back as his guards pulled their swords out, much too late. A horseman from the roman equites Extraordinarii helped the old general up. "Thank you, Decimus." Gaius muttered. He turned towards Marcus. "Soldier. I owe you my life. Nothing is equal to the price of a life, but I ask you. Is there anything I can do for you?" Gaius asked. "Learn my name." Marcus muttered. Gaius leaned closer. "What was that soldier?" He asked. "Learn my name." Marcus said quietly, looking at his feet. Gaius stared. Decimus stared. The entire cohort stared. Then Gaius burst with laughter. "Of course! Of course. Marcus, right?" Gaius asked. Marcus was stunned. The General knew his name, him out of 1000 men. Gaius smiled. "How would you like to be one of my personal guards?" Gaius asked. Marcus stared at the ground. He stepped forward suddenly. The man Gaius called Decimus pulled out his sword, but Marcus leaned close to Gaius' ear. "I would like to be commander of the fifth cohort." He whispered. Gaius nodded. "You can be both." He said. And so began Marcus' career as Commander of the Fifth Cohort.


Marcus had to be one of the most successful soldiers in Roman history. Or so he felt. Centurion at the age of 22! The honor and glory was almost too much. He wandered the streets of Rome. With the money Gaius Flaminius had given him, he had bought a nice villa in the area around Arretium, a quiet place with fresh spring water and a patch of fertile soil, as well as a slave. Despite the formal relationships most Romans had with their slaves, Marcus had immediately befriended his slave, a middle aged greek from Syracuse. The man was named Jason, and Marcus felt he was more of a companion than slave. Jason was, at the moment, back in his small apartment within Rome, which Marcus had bought with the remaining money he had been given, including the salary he had received for his two years of service as a soldier.


538 AUC, Rome
Marcus was walking down the Main Street when he saw her. She was looking desperately from house to house, stopping passerby who dismissed her with a wave of their hands. Marcus was captivated the second he laid eyes on her. He immediately ran towards her, grabbing her arms. She shrieked and tried to run away when he let go. "Listen, I can help you." Marcus said. The girl looked at him with her piercing blue eyes, her short blond hair in her face. She pulled away the strands of hair, then spoke in halting Greek. "You...help?" She asked. Marcus thanked the gods that he had learnt Greek while in Genoa. The city had some Greek heritage, like the Carthaginians. "Yes." Marcus answered. The woman looked at him again. "I need help. I must reach the plaza." She said in fluent Latin. Marcus just stared at her. "Look girl, you are in Rome. Latin is what everyone speaks here, not Greek. " he said. No wonder no one had helped her. No one understood what she wanted. The woman shook her head. "No, no. I am Greek. I must reach the plaza." She said adamantly. Marcus gave up on explaining, and looked around. "Which plaza?" He asked. "The one with the statue of the god you call Neptune." She said. Marcus smiled. "I know where that is. I'm going that way. You want to join me?" He asked. The girl looked at him again. He was about to explain how unnerving that was when she said something quietly. "What?" Marcus asked, angry that he had missed what she had said. "My name is Lydia." She said. Marcus looked at her face. There was a small smile on her lips.


It took Marcus 6 months to get Lydia to marry him. She had lived in Tarentum, where citizenship had just been granted. That made her legally a roman citizen. She had run away when the city rebelled against Rome, hoping to start a new life in the eternal city. The marriage happened in a Shrine to Juno, in Arretium. Lydia's parents were glad to know their daughter had married a roman centurion, because they believed that would protect them from roman anger over the rebellion of Tarentum. In the six months that Marcus had taken, hundreds of Roman soldiers had marched through Rome, heading south. By 540 AUC, the rebellion had been crushed. Marcus and Lydia moved to his villa in Arretium. Just as Lydia found out she was pregnant, Marcus left to rejoin the legion. Lydia had been worried when he left, but he promised that Jason would protect her. She had smiled and slapped him playfully. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's you." She said.


540 AUC, Genoa.


"Iberia!" Marcus exclaimed. "It would take us one year just to get there!" He cried. Gaius Flaminius Nepos had a frown on his face. "I trusted you with this information, because I hoped you would not scream it loud enough for the entire camp to hear." He said. Decimus stood near the upset Marcus, a frown on his face, his arms crossed. "General, even if we do reach Iberia, do we have sufficient forces to defeat the Carthaginians and Iberians?" He asked. Marcus turned to the cavalryman. "Forget that. What about my family? What about your family? Oh yeah, I forgot. Any girl who looked at you would rush into Pluto's arms rather than marry you." Marcus said. Decimus' eyes seemed to be on fire. "Careful Marcus." He said calmly. A few days ago, Decimus realized that Marcus had been the one to knock him off his horse and twist his ankle, and Marcus realized that Decimus had been the man who had rode his horse into Marcus' back. The two men could barely stand each other since then although Decimus, being 6 years older, was much more restrained. Gaius scowled. "Enough, Marcus. There are thousands of people who will march West. Do you think you are the only one with a family?" Gaius asked. Marcus shook his head dejectedly. He left the tent angrily, without so much as a bow to the General. "I worry about that one." Gaius said to Decimus, only to realize that he too had left the room. "I worry about them both." He said to himself.


Publius Cornelius Scipio, Gaius Flaminius Nepos, Marcus Herennius Bassus and Decimus Valerius Acisculus sat in conference at a table in a large tent. The four generals had gathered to plan the Grand Invasion of Iberia. Gaius was the senior among them, and he spoke first. "Our forward base is Emporiae. Publius Cornelius Scipio the Elder has forces there that will join my army, as I believe you have as many forces as you need." Gaius said, looking at Publius pointedly. Recently, the two generals had gotten into an argument over the fifth cohort. Publius wanted to have it under his command, while Gaius insisted it would stay with him. The decision had been given to Marcus, who immediately chose Gaius. Publius nodded. "It'll be great to see father again." He said. Marcus and Decimus looked uneasy. Unlike Gaius and Publius, they had no reputations for warfare, and were newcomers to the political pileup that was Rome.


The Assault of Sagunton was a very quick battle. Roman forces took the city easily, with only 18 casualties. The two armies split up, with Publius Cornelius Scipio marching towards central Iberia, where the city of Baikor rested in Carthaginian hands, and Decimus Valerius Acisculus marching to Carthago Nova.




The Battle of Carthago Nova
Marcus was standing as commander of the fifth cohort for the first time in battle. The army was facing Hasdrubal and his forces from Carthago Nova. Marcus snorted at the thought. New Carthage. The Carthaginians were a lot smarter than most Romans assumed they were, but why they had messed with Rome, he could only guess. Rome would raze Carthago Nova, massacre its people so it became nothing more than a collection of mud huts.


The enemy forces took a long time to come. Their arrival was heralded by a unit of slingers running all out towards the safety of the roman ranks. "We took out 300 enemies!" One of them called towards the roman ranks. "Beat that!" Another yelled. Decimus ordered me to the left flank, and they rushed to their positions. The huge seige towers that Decimus had commissioned to take the city disrupted the enemy charge. As the first enemies poked their heads out from among the huge towers, the roman cohorts threw their pila straight and true. Most centurions did not throw any pila, but Marcus was not most centurions. "Fire!" He barked, as he threw his pilum. It embedded itself in a seige tower. Marcus cursed. It was a terrible way to begin his first battle as commander. But his unit seemd unfazed by their leaders failed throw. Most of their pila flew into the enemy ranks, causing much more panick than any number of seige towers. Marcus' unit was on the far left of the line, which is why Marcus was able to see what happened next. The Balearic slingers, including the two who had bragged about their kills to the Romans were just getting into formation when Hasdrubal and his elite guard smashed into their lines. The first of the two men was thrown backwards into another man. The second charged with his dagger, only to recieve a spear in his chest. Marcus felt sick. Those two men did not deserve a death like that. He wanted desperately to attack the enemy cavalry, but before he could make the rash move that would probably have ended his career as Commander, roman trumpets blared. The entire roman cavalry force engaged Hasdrubal and his guard. Marcus watched in fascination, until a deep bellow refocused his attention in the enemy infantry. "Ooooh! Ahhhhhhh!" The enemy soldiers chanted. "Steady!" Marcus yelled. His cohort locked shields and drew their swords. Then, with a roar, the enemy infantry charged.

As the two infantry lines clashed, Decimus Cornelius and the cavalry managed to defeat the cavalry guard of Hasdrubal. After the death of Hasdrubal, the enemy infantry routed. The Romani cavalry followed the enemy into the city, massacring them in the streets. Decimus spiked the city gates open as Roman soldiers flooded the city.


Marcus Aurelius Scipio scratched his head with one of his gloves. He had taken to wearing them during the Iberian campaign and soon it had become one of his defining traits. The years had all blurred together. The Gallaeci were putting up a lot more resistance than expected. The Iberian wars had begun a few years ago at Gadir. Publius Cornelius
Scipio had taken his legion, including the fifth cohort, to begin the attack at Baikor. The following years, they had rushed from city to city, running from the main Gallaeci horde. A sad smile spread across his face as he remembered the city of Sagunton, the first city ever taken by the republic in Iberia. The same city was now burning. A huge Gallaeci army had wiped out its population when the Iberian wars began, and Publius had just brought the legion back to the city to reclaim it. From here, the legion would have two options, and Marcus was going to the Governors villa to discuss just that.


In the years that had passed in Iberia, Marcus had become one of the most famous and respected veterans. His first escalation from foot soldier to commander of a cohort had been dismissed by most as partiality by Gaius Flaminius Nepo, but he had immediately rose even from the ranks of commanders to become something better. He was given charge of all allied infantry, then all roman infantry, then all infantry. He was given the unofficial position of Infantry Strategist, as well as Grand Strategist. Despite the grandiose of the names, his jobs were simple. Lie to the soldiers. Lie to the commanders. Come to Publius to speak the truth. Most of the soldiers believed a reinforcing army was arriving under Sextus Fabius Maximus. A lie that Marcus himself had fed to them to mask the truth. No help was coming, not for another 4 winters atleast.


He entered the meeting room, where Publius Cornelius Scipio, Decimus Cornelius, and an assortment of advisors and tacticians were in a heated discussion. During the Iberian wars, this was where Gaius Flaminius Nepos had made his final stand against the horde of Iberians. Marcus felt it fitting that this room would be used to plan the offensive that would annihilate the Gallaeci.


"Marcus! Just the man I wanted to see. We're having a bit of a debate here, and I would love to see your take on the situation." Publius called, looking up from the maps the men had been arguing over. Marcus strode across the room, and placed a gloved finger on the map, where the Gallaeci city of Numantia was. "We were wondering whether you wanted to march south to aid Decimus Valerius, or North to finish off the Gallaeci." Publius explained. The room was quiet now. The opinion of Marcus Aurelius Scipio was one worth hearing. "Sir, whether we march right now or in one weeks time, we will not be able to beat the Gallaeci. Most of the Northern cities are in open revolt. By the time we reach the last Gallaeci stronghold, at the least, Numantia will already have defected. Who knows how many more." He said, tapping his finger on Numantia. "What do you suggest Marcus?" Publius asked him. "We have to march south." He said, tracing a line from Sagunton to Gadir. "Gaius Flaminius Nepos invaded Iberia with two legions not one. We cannot allow our comrades to be massacred, no matter how speedily their deaths will end the war. Besides, the people of Gadir are now citizens by Senate decree. We have a duty to protect them." Marcus said. "Also, letting the Carthaginians take the city shows our weakness. We cannot appear weak to the Carthaginians, or we will have no choice but to retreat from Iberia under the pressure of fighting the Carthaginians and Gallaeci. The final reason for why we must march South is simple. Decimus Valerius Acisculus controls a huge force. His numbers would boost ours to full legion strength again." He said. Many of the strategists were nodding. Decimus Cornelius was scratching his chin. Like Marcus, he too had risen above the ordinary ranks of cavalry commander to become commander of allied cavalry, then commander of cavalry, although the legion had very few cavalrymen nowadays. He was also a Grand Strategist and Cavalry Tactician. Their rivalry, which had begun with the loss of one horse, had only intensified as they grew more powerful.


"Evacuating half the Penninsula seems hardly necessary Marcus." Decimus said. He always spoke quietly, so people strained to hear him. He also wore gloves, but they were riding gloves, made of fine leather, flexible and durable. "It is not necessary. That is why we shouldn't evacuate half the Penninsula. The men stationed in those cities must remain there. May I remind you that we left only mercenaries and allied troops behind in those cities." Marcus said. Decimus frowned. "Mercenaries and Allied troops are men too." He said angrily. "But not Roman men." Marcus said, with a smile to Publius, who smiled with him. Decimus was known for his support of Mercenaries and Allied troops. Decimus frown deepened, but he didn't speak. Publius began to nod. "I like your plan Marcus. We will march immediately to Gadir. Discussion over. You are all dismissed." He said. A few men grumbled over their quick dismissal, but no one dared disobey. Publius had also risen in Prestige, becoming more and more famous through his battles in Iberia. No one spoke out of turn to him. "Marcus." He called. Marcus turned to look at him. There was something close to interest in his eyes, as if Marcus was a new type of barbarian that he was studying, but cared little about. "Your wife sent a mail to Emporiae. I had to pull in a few favors to get it here, what with it recently being besieged and all that." He continued, but Marcus had lost interest after the word Emporiae. "Where is it?" Marcus snapped. Publius raised an eyebrow. Marcus had spoken out of turn. "Sorry, Sir." Marcus said quietly, arm across his chest. Publius nodded. "Your wife says you have two children, two boys. One of them, she named Decimus. Decimus Aurelius Scipio. The other is called Marcus Aurelius Scipio. They were both born a few months after you left. I would have given you the news earlier, but the Seige of Emporiae and the increasing hostility of the Massalians made it hard for me to get the letter." He said. Marcus felt like collapsing. He managed to stay on his feet, but swayed left and right. "Thank you, sir. If you will excuse me, I have some prayers and sacrifices to do at the temple of Juno." He said quietly. Publius waved his hand vaguely. "Of course, of course." His expression darkened. "There is a problem though." Immediately Marcus was paying full attention. If anyone hurt Lydia, he would walk back to Italy for vengeance. "After Gaius Flaminius' death, other wealthy landowners took his land. One of them, I'm afraid, has no clue who you are, and he ordered your wife to be evicted from your house and land." He explained. Marcus balled his fists. "But. But, I sent a mail back, and she agreed to move to my estate. I own a huge plot of land in Campania. She will be well looked after there." Publius said quickly, seeing Marcus' anger. Marcus un clenched his fists, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Sir, I am indebted to you." He said to his commander. Publius nodded. "Once Gaius was indebted to you. Now he is dead. I hope this time, none of us will die. Yet." He said with a smile. Marcus nodded, then took his leave to go to the Temple of Juno.


Meanwhile, in Gadir, Decimus Valerius Acisculus was tested. Using his allied troops as sacrifices, he managed to defeat the entire Carthaginian army at the gates of Gadir. Despite the win, he was slain by a javelin, and right afterwards, the city was once again besieged. But news of the Roman soldiers' plight had not fallen on deaf ears. Publius Fabius Maximus had been creating a legion to attack the Boii at Bononia. The army was ordered to march west to Iberia. Reinforcements were on the way.


Since Publius Cornelius Scipio had arrived in Iberia, large scale battles between the Romans and Iberians were rare. However, General Caros with a force of 514 men attacked Publius Cornelius Scipio. The battle was the first time that the two powers met on the field of battle instead of brutal seige assaults.


Marcus was no longer in the fifth Cohort. The legion had lost so many men that there were only 4 active cohorts left. However, Marcus would forever assume he was in the fifth cohort. 7 years had gone by since Marcus had left Genoa for Iberia. Now, he was 31, not a grey beard, but still a veteran. He stood now, in command of a unit of men that he had become very close to, enough that he could tell the name of anyone pointed out, as well as their defining traits, strengths and weaknesses, and even their sleeping times. "Men!" He yelled. "For years, we have toiled in Iberia to fight these men. Enemies of the state! Enemies of your families! The enemy before you is robbing years from your life, years that could be spent playing with your children and cuddling with your babies. So enough! Show them the kindness we give to enemies! Show them the tip of your swords!" Marcus yelled. The entire army cheered, but when Marcus looked behind him, Publius was scowling at him. He realized that his speech had drowned out the Generals. Before he could offer any apology, there was a deep warcry. A mangled yell came out from the Iberian forces. "Ooooohhhhh!" Came the resounding cry from the enemy. The trees in front of him obscured his enemy. Suddenly, a javelin flew out of the forest, then another. Marcus managed to deflect the first, but watched in horror as the second pierced the body of one of his comrades. "Pila!" He cried, enraged. He hefted his own pilum, and threw it in the direction from where the javelins had appeared. There were cries of pain as the rest of the cohort threw their own pila. "Kill!" Came a deep bellow from among the trees. "Fire!" Marcus yelled. The pila whistled through the air again. "Kill!" The voice called again. "Charge!" Marcus yelled, his voice like a woman's when compared to the deep, guttural yell.


Once again, Decimus Tiberius Cornelius was hiding in the trees. He was waiting for the signal from Publius, so he could charge down on the enemy flank. He watched as the "fifth cohort" charged into a unit of Scutarii. A deep horn sounded as the two units clashed. Enemy soldiers began to rush out of the woods, smashing into Romani cohorts. Only the fifth cohort was struggling on the left flank, faced by General Daros and his men. A roman trumpet sounded. The signal. "It is time men! Citizens live and die, but soldiers live forever!" He called. The resounding cheer of the cavalry reached Decimus' ears as he charged. The first unit to charge was the Tribunes guard of Marcus Herennius Bassus. Then, the Equites Extraordinarii charged, and finally another cohort swung around and smashed into the enemy rear. The battle was over.


In 548 AUC, the legion sent by Publius Fabius Maximus and the attached legion of soldiers lent by the city of Massalia arrived in Iberia. The attached legion was close enough to help Publius, as the greatest war Iberia had ever seen was about to begin.


Marcus Aurelius was once again going to a meeting. The situation in Iberia was desperate, and the meetings grew grimmer everyday. Not to mention the failing morale in the camp. The soldiers began to realize that no roman help was coming. They were on their own, 780 vastly outnumbered men. As he went into the command tent, he found it crowded and loud as usual. As he went further inside the massive tent, he was bumped and jostled by the strategists and tacticians, advisors and soldiers who were inside the tent. He slowly made his way towards the center, where Publius Cornelius Scipio and Decimus Tiberius Cornelius sat in chairs, pointing at various cities on an ornate map laid on a table in front of them. "Marcus! Sit down my man!" Publius said cheerily. Marcus slowly set himself down in a spare chair.


Marcus looked at the map and realized it was a map of the remaining Gallaeci cities. "We were wondering whether we should break the seige of Numantia or march on Caladunon." Publius explained. Marcus shook his head. "We need a lot more forces to break the seige of Numantia. Since we have not heard any word from Decimus Valerius in Gadir, we must assume he has been overrun. We can take Caladunon, but we won't be able to hold it for long, and to what end?" Marcus asked. Decimus pointed at Vareius. "This city recently rebelled against us, forming a rebel force to deal with as well. Further West, the Gallaeci managed to defeat our forces at this city." He said, pointing at one of the many Western settlements that had been taken. "We are losing the western side of the Penninsula." Marcus commented, for once putting his hatred of Decimus aside. Publius looked at Decimus, something that irked Marcus. Publius always looked towards Decimus for advice, just because he was older. Maybe not always, but many times. Marcus thought. "Decimus. Do you think we should begin evacuations?" Publius asked. Marcus answered before Decimus could. "Yes sir. But not across land. The Gallaeci would easily catch up with us, and even if we take shelter with the Massalians, even they won't be able to hold off the Gallaeci hordes we have seen. We would have lost a valuable ally and have gained nothing. Instead, if we can commission the building of a fleet fast enough, we would be able to launch from Carthago Nova and land in Africa, moving across the desert until we reach the North African Shores, where a fleet from Sicily can pick us up." Marcus said. Publius nodded. "I feel that marching across Carthaginian territory is possibly the most dangerous thing we can do." He said. Marcus shook his head. "The most dangerous thing we could do is stay here or try to escape overland. Without the troops of Decimus Valerius, we will be hard pressed to hold any city, forget attacking anyone. If we march to Carthago Nova, we may be able to get in contact with Decimus. But if we stay here, we are doomed." Marcus said quietly. Publius nodded. "I think we-" Publius began. But a cheer interrupted him. "What in Hades is that?" Publius exclaimed. Marcus pulled out his sword, like most of the men around him. Decimus picked up his spear. Publius got up and stepped outside, the bewildered tacticians and strategists coming out too.


Decimus was trying to make out who was cheering. The cry was getting stronger. "Roma! Roma! Roma!" Came the call from somewhere behind the tents. His heart lifted, and he felt like joining in, except he knew how foolish he would sound. The cheering was getting louder, and Publius stood at the top of the inclined road, hands on his hips, waiting for the noisemakers to show themselves. Suddenly, the thunder of hooves echoed through the abandoned tents, and then the tramp of infantry. A unit of horsemen arrived. They were dressed in Greek armor. Decimus had spent a large portion of his life studying cavalry, and he guessed that the unit in front of him were Lonchophoroi, their armor most likely from Massalia. In their midst rode a man clad in the deep blue of a roman messenger. Behind them, the troops of Publius' army walked, cheering and praising the soldiers. The messenger got off his horse in front of Publius and got on his knees on the dirty road. "General. I have come under the orders of Publius Fabius Maximus, Head of Senate and Ex-Dictator of the Republic." He said. "Get up my friend. Tell me what he says." Publius said quietly. "Two legions are marching towards your aid." The messenger said. "One is an auxiliary legion, lent to us by the noble Massalians." He explained, nodding towards one of the Greek cavalrymen. "The other is a full Romani legion, raised by Publius Maximus himself in order to help you." He finished. For a second, no one spoke. A full roman legion? Decimus thought, his head spinning. A legion of moderate size would easily win them the Penninsula. Two legions of men was something he had only dreamt about. Publius looked awestruck. Then, he slowly pulled out his sword. The messenger shifted nervously and the Massalians hefted their spears, but Publius thrust it into the air. "Roma!" He cried. Around him, all his men lifted their swords and thrust them at the air. "Roma! Roma! Roma!" They chanted. The messenger bowed, and left, as the soldiers cheered and clapped each other on the back.


In 548 AUC, as Numantia fell to Garti of Iberia, Rome was able to barter with Macedon for a ceasefire, in exchange for the town of Dyrrhacium. Publius Cornelius Scipio the younger was attacked by King Leukon of the Gallaeci. Publius met him in a forest outside Caludonon.


Marcus pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands together, then quickly put them back on. Looking around, he couldn't believe it was summer. The trees blocked out all sunlight, and a cold draft made it feel like winter for Marcus. "Titus!" Marcus called to the centurion of the first cohort. In reality, the numbering of the cohorts was completely mixed up, as they had been numbered when the legion first marched into Iberia. Now, the legion of Publius Cornelius Scipio had only 4 cohorts. The prestigious Fifth cohort and the almost equal in repute first cohort were among them.


Marcus waved his arms as Titus turned to see who was calling him. When he saw Marcus, he grinned. "Marcus! Still haven't run back?" He called. Marcus grinned back. A running joke between the two centurions was that one of them had to convince the other to return to Italia. So far, neither had so much as thought of leaving, mostly because the other was still there. The joke had originated from a duel the two had had, which ended in draw. Now, they had decided that the person who returned home first would be the loser of the duel, although Marcus would gladly lose any number of duels to be reunited with his children and wife. "I'll run back to drag your cowardly hide over here again Titus!" He called back. Suddenly, Titus' smile dissappeared. "Pila!" He called to his cohort. The other cohorts pulled out their pila. "Cohort! Aim pila!" Marcus yelled. As his troops fumbled for their pila, one of them called to him. "Aim at what? The trees?" One called out. Marcus smiled, but quickly hid it with his hands, pretending to wipe his mouth. "At the spaces in between the trees, Decurius. Although any tree could beat you in a fight, so you should try to kill as many as you can." He said quickly. Laughter echoed across the cohort, as the men primed their pila.


A war horn rang across the forest. "Hoo. Hoo. Hoo" the chant started. Enemy soldiers began to beat their shields. The laughter died down, to be replaced by stony silence. A huge voice rang across the forest. "Killllll!" The cry came. Marcus did not know enough of their language to translate all they sang, but he knew the word kill. It had been screamed at him by so many enemies, that he had lost count. Among the dark trees, in the deep forest, a light appeared, followed by several lights. Marcus watched as a wave of fire flew towards them. Flaming javelins he thought. "Shields up!" He called, putting his own shield up. The javelins didn't even stick to the shields. They were obviously made to intimidate. The voice bellowed something, and enemy soldiers began to scream. "Fire!" Marcus yelled. Quickly the cohort emptied their hands, throwing their pila in the direction of the screaming. "Ready! Fire!" Marcus called again. The cohort threw their Second volley. "Draw swords! Lock shields!" Marcus ordered. The cohort came together, shields touching. And now we wait. Marcus thought.


In the accursed forest, it was impossible to see anything. Left, right, forward, Marcus looked, straining his neck to no avail. Then, the cries of roman soldiers on his right, mixed with mangled calls from Gallaeci troops reached his ears. Behind him, Publius turned his guard around to face something behind them. He heard more shouts and cries as another unit engaged the Triarii behind them. Then, more cries to his left. They got behind us. He despaired. "Attack!" Marcus cried. Behind him, the fifth cohort charged the enemy. 11 Romans fell under a hail of fire javelins. Just as he began to despair, he heard the trumpets of the roman cavalry.


Decimus paced in front of his horse, kicking a tree once in a while. The Lusitanian javelineers had rushed off to harass the enemy. Meanwhile, his cavalry was stuck until they could clearly see who they were fighting. Publius did not want the cavalry to arrive too early. He peered into the forest, but saw nothing. Then, one of his men cried out. "I see them!" He called. Though he was glad that he finally had a fight on his hands, Decimus felt jealous that it hadn't been him who had spotted the enemy. Since the battle with Hannibal, he had been the one to spot the enemy and rally his men against them. "Sir! They've got a cohort surrounded!" The soldier said. Decimus nodded and mounted his horse. "Men! Our fellow soldiers need us! It is time to do our duty." He yelled. His men shouted a challenge. With a roar, they rushed down the hill, dodging trees and some of the Iberians even throwing javelins. The roman cavalry arrived in a clearing. To the left and right, dense forest. A worn path seperated the two forests. He could hear the clamor of battle behind him. He saw one of the cohorts break a unit of the Gallaeci. He was startled by a loud warcry. All the enemy units were fighting. Then, as he watched, a swarm of mercenary Iberians rushed out of the woods, chanting songs while attacking the enemies on the left flank. Decimus blew his horn, signaling that the cavalry was attacking. He immediately charged the enemy attacking the surrounded cohort on the left.


Marcus heard the thunder of hooves a split second before the roman cavalry smashed into the unit attacking his cohort. Decimus was at their head. Marcus spat on the ground as the Gallaeci ran for their lives. Of all the people to save him, it had to be Decimus. Decimus moved his horse in front of Marcus. "If I had known it was you, I wouldn't have helped." He said, spitting at Marcus' feet. Marcus trembled with rage, but he had a battle to win. As the entire roman cavalry, Publius included, rushed to the west, Marcus rallied his cohort against the enemy soldiers who had returned. The charge from the left by the cavalry and from the right by the Iberian mercenaries had routed the entire enemy army. Leukon was nowehere to be seen. He charged at a Gallaeci, who was looting a dead roman. He bellowed with rage, and slew the man with one thrust. He looked into the sightless eyes of Titus, Centurion of the First cohort. "Looks like you're going where I cannot follow my friend." He said softly, closing the mans eyes.


Decimus was finishing off the garrison of Caladunon, which had attacked from the West. There had only been 76 men, but they would have been worth 4 Romans each on the walls of Caladunon. In the forest, they were dead men walking. As he killed the last enemy, he heard a furious bellow. Publius had his back turned as King Leukon of the Gallaeci, the blood of the Lusitanian javelineers on his armor, charged into the guard of Publius. "General!" Decimus called as he rallied the cavalry against Leukon. The Kings charge was furious, and half of Publius' guard dropped dead. It was the closest Publius had ever come to dying on the field of battle. Decimus and the cavalry, as well as some mercenaries, enveloped the King, and finally managed to kill him.


The next season, Publius took the town of Caladunon. However, it seemed 548 AUC would be a time of hardship for the republic. Just as the republic managed to defeat the great army of Leukon, Hiero II of
Syracuse attacked Messana. His army of two units was defeated by Decimus Fabius Maximus, as his brother, Sextus Fabius Maximus marched across Italy, recruiting troops to take Syracuse. Publius Cornelius Scipio was now known as Publius Hispanicus, for his efforts in Iberia. The seige of
Gadir was also broken in this season, and the loaned Massalian legion was decimated by huge Gallaeci armies, although they managed to take Numantia.


Marcus had once again been called to Publius' tent. There were very few strategic meetings nowadays, since the two cohorts that remained of the roman legion that had first invaded Iberia were hardly a force that could change the tide of a battle. Besides, the Gallaeci were all but destroyed, their last mountain stronghold surrounded by the legion sent by Publius Fabius Maximus from Rome. The city of Vareia had just been taken from a rebellious group of Romans who had wanted to break away from the republic. Now the remnants of the original legion were marching to support the most powerful army in the Penninsula.


"Marcus." Publius said the second he entered the tent. Marcus bent to one knee. "Lord Hispanicus." He said. The word lord was seldom used by the Romans, but there seemed to be no title better suited than Lord. "Lord Hispanicus. I quite like the sound of that. I called you here to pass on some news." He said. Marcus heart beat quickened. "Publius Fabius Maximus has moved your family from Campania to the area around Roma. He has done so with all of the families whose patriarch is here among the ranks of my army." Publius said. Marcus' heart sank. "And why is that sir?" Marcus asked. Publius frowned. "He thinks I am untrustworthy. The fool believes that he can control me by controlling my soldiers." He said softly. Marcus looked up at the general. "And are you untrustworthy, sir?" He asked. Publius scowled at him. "To you? No. To my men? No. To that old fraud? Possibly." Publius said. "Why is that sir?" Marcus asked. Publius paced in front of him. "Rise, Marcus. Do you know why all roman legions so far have been raised in Rome?" He asked. Marcus nodded. "It allows the soldiers to marvel at the city's beauty and remember what they are fighting for." Marcus said. Publius nodded appreciatively. "You've learned. So then, You and I are standing here, across the sea from Roma. Why are we here? If Roma is in Italia, why am I in Iberia!" He yelled. Marcus shifted uneasily, startled. Publius was usually quiet. "I'll tell you why. The Senate, it sent me here so I do not interfere in their politics. They will hear my name soon. I am the greatest roman general to ever live. The legion will rally to my side and I will march on Rome, and then show the Senate what I think of their politics!" He shouted. Marcus got up slowly. "My lord, do you truly think it wise to march on Rome?" Marcus asked. A civil war would result in a huge amount of bloodshed on both sides, and in the end, Rome would bleed. He still had an ace with him that could prevent the war, which he planned to unleash soon. "Do you truly think it is the Senate that should be blamed? Your father never used to think like that." Marcus said calmly. Publius clenched his fists. "My father-" he stopped abruptly. "Did you say my father used to?" Publius demanded. Marcus nodded. "Your father died three days ago, still believing that his son would never stray from his path." He said. Publius fell to the ground. Marcus rushed forward to help him, but he raised a hand. "My father." He whispered. Marcus knew one of the rumors about Publius Cornelius Scipio the Younger was that he was adopted by his namesake in Graecia. Of course, the rumor had never been proven, and now, only one person knew the truth. Publius got back up. "Where was he buried?" He asked. Marcus shrugged. "They took his body back to Rome." Publius nodded. "In his honor, I may discontinue my planning." Publius said calmly. His voice was shaky, and Marcus knew he needed some time alone. As he left, Publius called to him. "Marcus, if I was you, I would move your family to Iberia. Much safer under my protection, and safe from Rome's politics." He said. Marcus nodded. "Yes, sir. I-" He began. "No! Address me as Publius Hispanicus from now on." Publius interrupted.




The beginning of 549 AUC was marked by the seige of Syracuse, when Sextus Fabius Maximus rallied forces and took Syracuse with a massive mercenary army. Syracuse itself had not been a great threat. The real threat was Massalia. The Greek city had been allied to Hiero, and Idanthyrsus, the elected leader of the Republic of Massalia would not allow the roman legions to return to Italia without a fight. The news was met by a multitude of groans from the roman soldiers assembled as they longed for hearth and home. But Publius Hispanicus had good news as well. "Our sister legion from the south will join us on the journey my friends! We are both going home together!" He yelled. The men cried out in delight. The idea of having a strong legion to accompany them on their way back to Italia was a very encouraging prospect. The grand plan of Publius Hispanicus would soon be underway, as the remnants of his legion moved to Numantia.

"Lord Hispanicus." Publius Junius Pera said, bowing to Hispanicus as he entered the command tent of their combined forces. Hispanicus nodded at him. "At ease. I heard the seige is coming to an end." He said. Publius nodded, pointing to a map. "As you have requested, the Southern Iberian Legion has begun its march to Numantia. Baikor has been emptied of its garrison, until your replacements arrive of course. New Carthage, Emporiae and Vareia have been relieved of most of their taxes until your replacement garrisons can arrive my lord." Pera explained. "What about the deadline?" Hispanicus asked, scratching his beard. "My lord, Iberia is a large place, and there are atleast a thousand men scattered around the Penninsula. However, I believe we will meet your deadline of 1 year." He said. Publius nodded. "Send out another message. Inform every town and roman soldier that if he is not in Numantia by 550 AUC, he will not be allowed to return to Italia." Hispanicus said. Pera nodded. The message would speed up the arrival of men, so that by one year, every roman soldier in the entire Penninsula would be in Numantia, ready to leave for Italy. Everyone except his own legion.


One year later, Briganton,
The final mountain stronghold of the Gallaeci, manned by the best of the tribe, who were led by their High Chieftain, Ambon, fell to Publius Junius Pera. The sudden attack by the roman General was because of the hundreds of men who had begun packing the valleys with men. These men, suddenly finding themselves leaderless, dispersed into the mountains, only the most resolute staying behind to harass the legion. Publius Junius imediately marched to Gadir. Since the second message had gone out, Gadir had been severely undermanned. The Carthaginian outpost of Tingi continuously sent armies to beseige the city, but now a large army threatened to take it. Publius Junius quickly sent the enemy forces into retreat over the land ridge. Then, he made one of the most important decisions in the history of the republic. Publius Junius Pera took the largest roman force South of Numantia into Carthaginian territory. This move put the two Mediterranean superpowers in an immediate state of war, and now, instead of a few major battles, a major invasion had begun. The war with Carthage had reached a full circle. Hannibal had attacked the heart of the republic, Italy. Now, Publius was taking the war to the heart of Carthaginian Trading Empire. Africa.


Decimus slumped in his saddle. Half a years hard riding was taking its toll on the man, even though there had been frequent rests in between. Decimus found himself unable to even get off his saddle and fetch his horse some water, but at his position as commander of Horsemen, he could always order someone else to do it. Marcus appeared next to him. "How does a cavalryman get tired? Isn't it the horse that does all the work?" He asked. Decimus was too tired to answer, so he just ignored him. "Stuck up weaklings. You think you cavalrymen are gods eh? Think running into an enemy from the back makes you noble? Think again." Marcus leered. Decimus shook in his saddle. He could barely control his anger, his weariness forgotten. Decimus had seen so many of his men die to help their foot borne comrades. Yet here, this man was accusing them of cowardice. "-although missile cavalry are probably less honorable." Marcus continued. Decimus directed his horse in front of Marcus. "You infantry always assume you have things tough. Try charging an enemy at breakneck speed, not knowing whether some fool will turn around and gut you just as you attack them. Not being able to stop, even as you charge to certain death. Brave that and then tell me who has it easier." Decimus said. Marcus kicked at the ground, a sneer on his face. "Try bracing yourself for a frontal attack from a Gallaeci warrior tattooed with the names of men he has killed, bellowing war cries that could scare the dead. Try surviving a shower of flaming javelins of arrows as you march forward, not sure which volley will spell your doom. Try that first, and then have your glory robbed away by a pretty little boy in shiny armor with a sharp stick and a pony." He said angrily. Decimus couldn't find anything to say to that, so he spurred his horse on and joined his cavalry corps, even as Marcus shouted insults at him.


As the legion marched over the river that marked the Western boundary of Massalian territory, Publius Hispanicus ordered a halt. The men sat down and prepared to camp the night. Publius Hispanicus had other plans. In the dead of night, when the only sounds were low whispers between drowsy sentries and the cracks and pops of a dying fire, Publius went into the infantry tents. There, he searched through the tents to find one man. With the rising fame of Marcus as a heroic soldier and able commander, another man had fallen from the spotlight, someone who was eager to prove himself. Publius went into the tent of the centurion of the lost third cohort of Gadir, which had fought with extreme valor at the gates of Gadir, but had lost all of its fame when Decimus Valerius Acusculus died. Although no one mentioned it openly, a cohort that had allowed its General to be killed could never make up for its failure, no matter how hard they tried and how bravely they fought. Publius Volumnius Flamma Violens was his name. What transpired that night will remain a mystery forever, known only to two people, but the next day, the city of Massalia was taken, Idanthyrsus was found with his throat sliced open, and Publius Volumnius was made a full fledged general and adopted son of Publius Scipio.
Two years later, Caralis,
Carthago Clupea, Heir to the title of Shophet among the Carthaginians, took the important trading outpost of Caralis. The city had been protected for a long time by Titus Sempronius Longinus, a retired legionnaire who had been given this out of the way, yet honorable job for his services. But his clever tactics would not help him face of a full Carthaginian army. Before reinforcements could arrive, word arrived in Roma about the fall of Caralis. And although the old general had killed more men than he had lost, he was slain in the streets, and Rome found itself short of one of its oldest and most capable generals, and one of its most profitable trading ports.


553 AUC, Tingi
Time was going by quickly. Another year had passed, and Carthage was no closer to being defeated. In fact, they had managed to take back one of their key settlements in the previous year. Severe retribution was coming from Rome though. A frustrated Publius Hispanicus was delayed by a cautious Senate, while Spurius Fabius Maximus took one of the newly commissioned legions with him to Sicily, to prepare for an invasion of Africa. But far to the West, in the barren desert, Publius Junius Pera prepared to face the most powerful Carthaginian lord in the Western African Desert, Briareus Gisgo.


The battle began as Carthaginian forces began to engage the roman soldiers from a distance. A large force of archers would be one of the most deadly weapons in the hands of the Carthaginian force. The roman line was stretched into one, extremely long line. Even as the roman cavalry prepared to begin a flanking maneuver, the enemy forces rushed in to attack. Briareus was a military genius, although very few people knew that. Most assumed that it was pure luck that his plans worked. But his plan that day was brilliant, unless it was just coincidence. He attacked the left and right ends of the roman line. Obviously, the center broke in two, half of the men flanking the attackers on the left, the others flanking those on the right. The tactic was good, and would end the Carthaginian infantry attack faster. But everything went wrong then. Light infantry that would never have been able to challenge the heavy cohorts charged out of the trees, and began to cause devastating casualties on the flanking troops' unprotected backs, aided by the archers.


On the left flank, the large roman cavalry force faced almost equally mobile light infantry, the likes of which they had never seen. A few cavalrymen attacked these light infantrymen head on, while the rest followed Junius around the enemy. On the right flank, the Sacred Band of Ba'al, the most powerful unit the Carthaginian Empire could field was surrounded by three cohorts, yet was causing tremendous damage. The Balearic slingers that Junius had brought were outnumbered so badly, the archers paid little attention to them, concentrating fire in the weak backs of the roman infantry. However, here the battle turned. The roman cavalry began to crush get through the light infantry, with the aid of a unit of Triarii. The cavalry began to chase off the missile infantry, but they ran almost as quickly, and managed to keep the cavalry occupied as more and more missiles caused more and more deaths among the roman ranks. Finally, Briareus was killed by the roman cavalry. The cavalry spread out to chase down each and every last archer, and the Carthaginian infantry broke. The Sacred Band was completely surrounded and massacred, but the remaining men were chased down and killed. The roman legion had lost a huge amount of men for the first battle in enemy territory, but had a major victory. 264 Romans fell to the vicious hail of arrows and Carthaginian spears, but 1357 Carthaginians littered the ground with their bodies. The town of Tingi fell that same year, and the invasion from the East had begun in earnest.


555 AUC, Roma,
Finally, after nearly four years of planning, Publius Hispanicus was ready to begin his attack on Carthage. Troops from Arretium, Ariminium and Roma had formed the legion under Spurius Fabius Maximus, but Publius Hispanicus' legion was completely from the veterans of Iberia. These men were hardened, experienced, and eager for more battle. Atleast, most of them.


Villa outside Capua, Campania,
"Decimus! Marcus! Lydia!" Marcus called. He entered the villa, looking around for his children and wife. Suddenly, two young boys jumped out and attacked him with wooden swords. Marcus smiled to himself even as he pulled out his own sword. "Lesson one, boys. When you outnumber the enemy, never show them your true numbers. Wait for the oppurtune moment." He said, while disarming the first. "Lesson two. Don't attack someone you know you cannot beat. Here, it is me. On the battlefield, you could be killed." He said, as he body slammed one into the wall and held his own sword to the throat of another. "Marcus!" Lydia shrieked, calling from a window. Marcus just shrugged and withdrew his sword from the boys throat. "I know what I'm doing woman. If I wanted them dead, they would be dead." He said. Lydia frowned and crossed her arms. Marcus sheathed his sword. "Marcus, what happened to your leg? Can't you move faster? Decimus, that was some poor swordwork. I expect better." Marcus said harshly. The two boys looked at each other and then at their father. Marcus smiled and spread his arms. Despite the boys almost being men, they rushed into their fathers arms. Marcus had taught them, in the short period that he was with them, that hugs were used even by the most hardened veterans to greet friends and loved ones.


That night, Marcus' family was united at the table. Only Jason, who had been claimed by disease before Marcus had arrived, was not present. Marcus even decided to invite a few of his comrades in arms. Decurius, the man who Marcus had said could be beaten up by a tree, was there, along with his wife and two sons. Lydia had insisted, against Marcus' will, to invite Decimus and his four children. "Four children! By the gods, why would the world want four more of him?" Marcus had yelled, all the way to Decimus' house, and all the way back. Despite this, Decimus was present, along with Tiberius, a close friend of his and fellow cavalryman.


Marcus went over to the children playing nearby. Decimus had two children beyond the age of twenty, but the other two were 15 and 12. Unlike Marcus, Decimus had taken his entire family with him on campaign. Tiberius had a thirteen year old and a twelve year old. Decurius had a 14 year old and a 15 year old. He gathered up all the children. "Listen boys, here's what we are going to do. Cavalry sons over there. Infantry sons over here. You guys get swords." He said, pointing to the infantry sons. "You guys get spears." He said to the cavalry sons. He handed out blunt wooden swords to the "infantry sons" and wooden sticks to the "cavalry sons". "Fight." He commanded. As the two groups clashed with shrill yells and the thwack of sticks, he calmly walked over to the main dining hall.


Just outside Capua, Campania, Roman Republic
Late into the party, as the men were joined by another ten old veterans, and their 12 sons, a knock came on the door. The fighting between the two groups of children had ended long ago, so it couldn't be a weeping child needing medical aid. "I'll answer it." Marcus called to the others. Most of the men were deep in conversation, but only Decimus nodded, making Marcus angry. He pulled the door open. "What do you want?" He barked at the hooded figure before him. "Is that how you address your commander?" Publius Hispanicus asked, pulling off the hood.


After Publius and his ten guards had been fed and watered, Publius gathered all the veterans to the dining table. "My friends. All of you have served me faithfully. Each one of you served as a Centurion in my army. except for you, Decimus, and your comrades." He said. Most of the veterans nodded. "I know how promising home and hearth seem. But you are all adventurers at heart. It is destined that you rejoin the legion." He stated. To this, many of the soldiers began to mumble. "My lord." Decimus said. Publius turned to him. "With all due respect sir, I, and many of those around us have fought for you in the past. Now, we are reaping the rewards of our service. We have everything we were promised, and have fulfilled what we promised." Decimus said. Publius nodded. "Marcus?" He asked. Marcus thought carefully. He had been lucky once in life. He had found a loyal wife who cared for him, even when he went away for the long Hispanic campaign. But now, she finally had everything she wanted. Could he really take it all away from her again? Could he truly believe that she wouldn't leave him for another if he dissappeared again? The twins adored him as a hero, but if he left again, would he still be a hero to them? "Sorry, my lord, but I have finished my obligation. It is time for me to relax and reap the benefits of my work." He said firmly. Publius nodded again. The other men gave similar excuses. Finally, Publius turned to Marcus. "Of all my men, I expected you to be most excited to return to the legion. Farewell then." He said, and left. As the party resumed, no one noticed the small, darting form of Decimus Aurelius Scipio as he ran back up the stairs to his room.


The next day, as Marcus Aurelius Scipio slept late into the morning, the young Decimus set out to find the legion recruitment camp. He came upon the recruiter, who was busy taking down the name of a young boy, barely older than him. "Sir." Decimus said quietly. The recruiter turned to him, waving off the other boy. "Who are you? The pig keeper?" He asked indignantly. "A future centurion." Decimus said, his jaw set. The recruiter raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. Right. Well, sorry kid, but we don't have space for runts like you." He said firmly. "I'll be 16 in one week." Decimus insisted. The recruiter yawned. "Alright then. Property?" He asked. Decimus frowned. "What?" He asked. The recruiter shook his head. "You have to have some property to enlist. Unless you want to join the Velites. For that, you need a spear and shield. Where is your equipment?" He asked. Decimus frown deepened. "Don't you supply the armor?" He asked. The recruiter laughed suddenly, a deep, hearty laugh. "I don't. I'm not that rich. But the state does not supply armor either you idiot. Each man brings his own." He said, allowing another chuckle. Suddenly, a shadow fell over the desk. "Is there a problem here?" A cool voice asked. The recruiter jumped up from his chair. "No, sir. I was just sending this boy off." He said. Decimus turned to look at the face of Publius Hispanicus. "You." They both said at the same time. "You visited my father's house." Decimus said. Publius frowned. "Your father...Blessed, Jupiter! You're Marcus' son!" He yelled. The recruiter just scratched his head and looked at Decimus. "Here to enroll without your fathers permission eh?" Publius asked. "I'm a man in one week. I don't need his permission." Decimus said angrily. Publius nodded. "I admire your daring." Publius said with a smile. "Sign him up. I'll pay for his armor." He said to the recruiter. "But sir, what about the property requirement?" He asked quietly. Publius glared at him. "I know men who had property and men who didn't. Both fought equally well. Don't you dare question me again." Publius snarled. The recruiter nodded quickly, then turned to Decimus. "Name?" He asked.


Marcus kicked the ground in anger. "Decimus!" He yelled. And for once, he didn't mean his old horse riding rival. Lydia ran over to him. "Marcus. You're making a scene. Decimus is old enough to make his own choices. He's a man now. You have to help Marcus grow." She said calmingly. Marcus shook with rage. "I just wish I knew where he was going. I mean, I know he should be free now, but I'm a father. It's my job to keep him safe." He said. "I know Marcus, but your other son needs you now. This is a big journey for him too." Lydia consoled. Marcus nodded. "I want you to know that I would never move you this far if I didn't know what I was doing. I already bought the land, and I can find some work in Carthago Nova if the pensions are not enough." He said. Lydia nodded. "Marcus, I'm so proud of you, for refusing to continue your military career to look after your sons." She said, pride shining in her eyes. "Wait." Marcus said suddenly. "The military! That's where he's gone!" He yelled. Lydia gasped and slaves stared as Marcus strapped on his sword and rushed towards the port.


Marcus strode purposefully towards the recruiters desk. He grabbed his sword in his right hand, and grabbed the recruiter in his left. "Decimus Aurelius Scipio. Where is he?" He demanded. The recruiter yelled and screamed. "Guards! Guards!" He cried. As the soldiers nearby drew their own swords, Marcus turned to face them, his eyes burning with anger. "Do it, I dare you to. The blade of Marcus Aurelius Scipio thirsts for blood. Sate it." He roared. The guards backed off, even though they outnumbered Marcus four to one. "Where is he?" He demanded again. The recruiter pointed towards the sea. "The Jupiter's eye! It left today!" He yelled. Marcus threw the recruiter backwards, and kicked over his desk. "Damn it!" He yelled.


Decimus Aurelius Scipio was feeling very pleased with himself as the Jupiters Eye set off. He could almost hear his fathers roars of anger. Since he had first seen his father, he had always wanted to lead a life just like him. Spending the prime of his life fighting and then leaving the military for a quiet life on a farm or in a city was what he had wanted ever since he first saw his father. But his father would not hear a word about it. "I risked my life so that you would never have to risk yours. I worked hard so that you would not have to. Why would you want to take up the same burden? I took it up to spare you. Who do you want to spare?" Marcus the Elder had asked him all the time. Decimus never told Marcus the real reason why he wanted to join the army. It was exciting. It was much more exciting and interesting than living a peaceful life in a city. And Decimus loved to be excited.


Decimus hurried along the deck of the ship, answering the summons of Publius Hispanicus. The great general was about to brief him on the situation in North Africa and explain what was expected of him, as well as hand out his armor. He knew he couldn't be late. In exactly five minutes, he found his way between the maze of rooms and quarters aboard the pride of the fleet, the Junia, and arrived in Publius' headquarters. The place was surprisingly empty. Publius Hispanicus, the man who had conquered so much, was not threatening or intimidating in any way. In fact, if he had not been Rome's greatest general, he would hardly be listened to, even among the common soldiers. As Decimus entered, Publius turned from a map he had been studying. The general was famous for his strategic discussions over huge maps, on which miniature figures would be moved to symbolize legions moving. "Decimus. Sit down." Publius said. Decimus sat immediately on a chair nearby. It was impossible for the young man to ignore the authority that was thick in Publius' voice. "While in Iberia, your father met an expert swordsman from the Gallaeci tribe. His specialty? Fending off multiple attackers with ease. His technique included a host of bluffs, slashes and parries that could make a man fall down. He was taken prisoner in a battle. Your father was the one to beat him one on one, though this man managed to take 3 roman lives. Just before he was executed, the swordsman offered to teach Marcus. Instead of executing him, Marcus made him a slave. He taught your father a great deal, and then Marcus gave him to me. I've been using him to train my best men." Publius explained. He raised his hand. A man stepped out from a dark corner in the room. He was very short and thin for a Gallaeci. Tales of their enormity and strength had spread across the roman ranks for years. But this man could pass for roman, except for the tattoos that covered his body. He nodded pleasantly to Decimus and then turned to Publius. Publius looked at Decimus. "He will train you during the boat trip and in Africa." Publius said. Decimus was taken aback. It wasn't every day that he was given a chance like this, to train with a warrior who had trained his father. "B-but does he speak Latin?" He asked. "Training on a ship is good. If you can keep your footing on a ship, you can keep it on land." The trainer said in accented Latin.


The rest of the trip was mainly un eventful. Publius had not exaggerated when he said that the Gallaeci swordsmen was one of the best in the world. The longer he fought against him, the more he doubted that his father had ever beaten the man. One day, he could not bear the suspense. He gathered enough courage to ask his teacher. The man sat down and sighed deeply. "I used to think I was the gift of the gods or my tribe. I had never met an equal on the battlefield. I charged into battle naked, sure that my sword was all the armor I needed. Your father was just another soldier. Large shield, which I knew would be unwieldy. I cut at his shield, a blow that could hack a mans limbs off. I may not seem like much, but then I was a mountain of muscle." He said contentedly. Decimus could barely believe that his father was the man who had defeated this warrior. "Marcus was not like most men. He simply sidestepped the blow, and swung his shield in a crushing arc. I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was your fathers prisoner." The Iberian said.


6 years later,
Decimus Aurelius Scipio had been fighting in Africa for 6 long years. Time and time again he had been tested, but now, the battle with Carthage was all but over. With the fall of the last great city of the Empire, Cirta, the empire of Carthage was all but finished. Finally, Decimus could return home after the excitement of the war, to be treated like a hero by his family and country, until he was called away to spend more of his life in conflict. He had gained a large amount of money through loot, and could easily rent out a moderately sized apartment in Rome. But a new threat had arrived in Italia, one which threatened to wipe out the entire heart of the Roman republic.


In the year of 561 AUC, two huge Greek armies took the entire republic by surprise when they besieged and took Patavium. Immediately, panic spread among the people. The people of Arretium and Ariminium rushed out of their cities, carrying all they could. The previous owners of Patavium had been gathering a large horde of men to retake the city, but their forces were massacred in open battle by the trained Greek hoplites. The Senate decreed that Publius Hispanicus return to Italia to fend off the invasion, even as they fled to the safe city of Syracuse. Just as Publius Fabius Maximus was reassuring the populace, he died of cough. The people went into panic once again. Riots erupted in Roma even as Sextus Fabius Maximus, Publius' son took the job of governing the republic. Once Sextus Fabius Maximus regained control of the people of Syracuse and Rome, riots began in Messane, where the popular governor Spurius Fsbius Maximus had once ruled until he fell in the Second Punic war, which constituted of the invasion of Africa. The emergency reserve legion at Rome had been sent off to aid Publius, only to be sunk by the Carthaginian fleet. Rome levied an emergency legion as the aged governor of Arminium set about constructing forts in all the mountain passes that entered into mainland Italia, which protected the cities of Arretium and Arminium, as well as the town of Segesta. The forts were garrisoned by hastily recruited mercenaries, who, like wolves smelling fear, smelt the roman fear and demanded outrageous payments, which were unhappily given. Messana rose to riot, but much of Iberia was stable, except for the Northern cities of Vareia and Numantia. The legion under Publius Junius Pera was under the joint command of a man named Otho, Publius himself, and Hispanicus, who was making preparations to leave to Italia, along with Decimus.


Decimus Aurelius Scipio entered the command tent for the fifth time. He was wandering aimlessly around the huge camp. Publius Hispanicus had given him the right to do so a long time ago. As he re entered the tent, looking for something to do, he heard a cool voice behind him. "Your father always knew where he was going." Decimus turned around to see Publius Hispanicus himself. It had been a long time since the two had met face to face, the last time being when the Iberian teacher died of dehydration as they crossed the deserts of Numidia. Now that the Legion was camped near the relatively cooler climate of Carthage, the soldiers grew lax and carefree. "My father was always content with what he had." Decimus answered. Publius raised an eyebrow. Looking at the man who defeated the Gallaeci in battle time and time again, the man who had saved the entire legion of Publius Iunius Pera at the famous "The Battle of Carthage", during which a failed refused left tactic backfired and routed the entire allied cohort wing of Pera, Decimus felt insignificant. This man had accomplished more in 20 years than he could do in a thousand. But he was determined not to feel inferior as he always felt when around Publius. The man had everything. Good looks, fame, and most of all, a legacy to be passed down through generations. "I see." Publius said haughtily. "Well then. If you think so, let me ask you something. Are you happy with what you have?" Publius asked. Decimus frowned internally. If he said yes, then Publius would assume he had no ambition. If he said no, Publius would think Decimus was ungrateful. He chose a neutral response. "I believe the Fates have given me what has been decreed." He said. Publius frowned. "That's not the answer I asked for." He said. Decimus panicked. He wasn't used to being in tough situations like this. He knew that Publius could make his life extremely happy or extremely miserable based on how he felt. So he tried to look ambitious. Before he could answer again, Publius interrupted. "You want a legacy to be passed along generations." He said. Decimus' mind reeled. Publius had read his mind, word for word, like a book. "I know because I felt the same when I was your age. Speaker at the Senate, I was. I explained the agenda, and saw the Senste in its true colors. Its a mob. A rich mob, but still as much a mob as the people. They will never have a legacy. No one will write stories about their deeds. But here, we soldiers will have songs sung about our bravery. But if you were more?" He asked, leaning closer. Decimus felt like stepping back, but didn't want to appear meek. "Then you would become a King. A sole leader. When the power is divided among old fools and young jokers, just because of their public status, there is no one to blame. The Senate orders a Consul to fight a suicide battle, then blames the Consul. We are scapegoats to them, to be praised when needed, and sacrificed when not. But a King, like those in the East, he could truly accomplish something. Imagine what I could accomplish as the sole leader of the republic." He said, looking at the sky with a dreamy expression on his face. "With strong generals at my side." He said, with a sideways glance at Decimus. Decimus was shocked. Publius was inviting him to a conspiracy against the Senate! The idea was so preposterous that he almost laughed. But he kept a straight face. "I know what you want. If you refuse me now, the world will not remember you for your sacrifice. But if you join me, even if we lose, it will be the greatest rebellion in Roman history." He said, the dreamy expression returning to his face. Decimus mustered his courage. "Sir, I am honored that you would give me such a choice, but my duty is to my state. I fight for Rome. Not even for undying fame would I give up my homeland." Decimus said firmly. Publius looked surprised, his serious demeanor dissapearing. "Your father said something similar. I was at the brink of turning on Rome, and he drove sense into me. Incidentally, my father died at the same time, almost as if just the thought of betrayal killed him..." He trailed off. "You are right. I can't forswear my duty." He said sternly to himself. And he walked out without a word to Decimus, who stood there, stunned.


The next year, Publius Cornelius Scipio left Africa to command a legion assembled just for him near Rome. At the same time, a Greek mercenary army was commanded by Decimus Fabius Maximus, a strong member of the Maximus family, and Consul of the republic, and Gnaeus Aemilius Paullus commanded a Samnite elite army. In the year, the town of Dyrrhacium felt to the Greek city states, who had only grown in strength since their attack on Patavium. A roman fleet blockaded all shipping from Corinthos and Thebes, but in revenge, the Greek navy blockaded the port of Tarentum.


By the end of 563 AUC, Decimus Fabius Maximus had laid seige to Patavium, and Publius Hispanicus was beseiging Mediolanon. Just as the the War of North Italy seemed to be all but over, Disaster struck at Massalia. The city was always a weak link, a chink in the armor of the Roman republic. It had large walls, but was poorly garrisoned, and mostly by Massalian levies and mercenaries who were unwilling to fight for Rome. Also, it was a critical rest stop for troops marching to Iberia by land, and without it, land trade between Iberia and Italy would be shut down. The Arverni, the frightening warriors of Gaul had rushed down with more men than could be counted, nearly five full armies, to crush the garrison of Massalia and take the city. As the hordes flattened everything in its path, the Republic, for the first time, seemed weak and unable to protect itself. Since the Invasion of Hannibal, no major incursions in to roman territory had occurred for 17 years. But now, Arverni, Greeks and even a small Macedonian force was waiting to attack. Massalia had fallen, Emporiae was besieged by a Carthaginian force from the island port city of Pollentia, The force under Otho boarded ships to take the last Carthaginian colony and extinguish the empire once and for all. Gnaeus Aemillus Paullus besieged the city of Massalia, as Decimus Fabius Maximus took Patavium. A large force of Carthaginians on boats, who were retreating from Lepcis Magna were caught by the roman navy and sunk, drowning the last great army of Carthage.


In 564 AUC, the city of Massalia fell to Gnaeus. He immediately rushed to aid Emporiae, but walked right into a trap. The Arverni forces laid a perfect ambush. As the men marched, the Arverni forces swarmed in from all sides. The battle was won only through the sheer will of the Samnite elite men, and the excellent use of cavalry. But this victory in which 1339 Arverni fell was insignificant, as Gnaeus would soon realize. The Arverni were not invading, they were migrating. Huge hordes of people looking for new lands had arrived in the small strip of land Rome controlled between Iberia and Italia. Rome found itself facing more enemies than it ever could face. But it after the fall of Mediolanon that the greatest loss to the republic would happen. This was an event that would be remembered for decades, if the Romans had decades ahead of them.


The Winter of 564 AUC was marked by the victory of the roman defense forces from Caladunon over the beseigers of Emporiae. But bad news began to spread across the Res Publica. The legion of Gnaeus Aemillus Paullus, eager after their victory, found themselves faced with over 6000 Arverni, all of who converged on the lone legion. But the most dreadful news was still to come. Betraying their country, their duty and their honor, Publius Hispanicus and his followers among the army deserted the Roman republic. Just as hopes were rising with the arrival of the undefeated general, they were crushed by this news. If the greatest general since Hannibal was abandoning Rome, then surely there was no hope, the people thought. Italia was being abandoned at an alarming rate. People fled to either Iberia or Africa, or back to their old homes in Greece. Decimus Salvius Otho, completely oblivious to the turn of events, finally took Pollentia and began to sail back to Italia.


One year later was when the damage of Publius' betrayal was seen. The strongest of the three levied armies had defected, to the man, to Publius, who had been supporting them and their families for years, making them more dependent on him than the Senate and the Republic. In 565 AUC, the Winter saw the spilling of roman blood everywhere. 1116 Romans were killed by the Arverni, along with Gnaeus Aemillus Paullus. The remaining soldiers were sold into slavery. In the same season. The white winter snow was colored bright red by the destruction of the second legion, this time by the soldiers of Taurasia, the last city not under Roman control in the Po valley, excluding Bononia. 1151 Romans, including the Consul Decimus Fabius Maximus were killed, and the second legion was gone. Never in the history of Rome had so many men been killed in such a short time. Even when fighting Hannibal, the casualties had been lighter than this. The Arverni offered peace to Rome, in exchange for money. Sextus immediately accepted. If there was any way to delay the Arverni, he would pay any amount of money to do it. But Sextus himself was swaying in loyalty, as he only, among all the generals knew the true state of the roman republic. Patsvium fell once again to the Greeks, and Mediolanon fell as well as any remaining Roman forces retreated behind the forts constructed by Quintus Claudius Marcellus, governor of Arminium.


Maris sighed as he dragged his sack back onto the donkey. It was the third time it had fallen down, and he was getting older and weaker. At 52 years old, he was far too old for lifting sacks. But once again, his family had been forced to move, and Marcus the younger had caught a raging fever, so he had been forced to do the grunt work. It was a weird twist of fate that Decimus, the old cavalry commander of 58 years was in the same caravan as he was. The two had made the exact same plans without knowing it, until they had seen each other in the last place they had expected. But Marcus could see the town of Emporiae. There, he would be able to get some rest, collect some of his pension and continue. His family was weary, but if he could get to Carthago Nova, they would be safe. The conflicts of the last few years had delayed there progress, especially as raging hordes of Arverni soldiers roamed the territory of Massalia, looking for fitting prey. Marcus had actually watched the battle where Gnaeus Aemillus Paullus was killed, and some of the survivors had joined the caravan. But now that they were nearing the entrance of Iberia, he knew that inside, he would be able to easily get his family somewhere safe. Well not all your family. A nagging voice reminded him.

[Ownager]

I just noticed that the Italics to represent thoughts are not present. Sorry. I could have sworn I added them to the document.

[Ownager]

Oh shoot. Just noticed another mistake. This is Roma Surrectum 2.5, not 1.5. I probably should have proofread, but I'm too lazy.