Tales from a Past Life (Updated 23 Nov 2013)

[HunterKYA]

One week, 150+ views since the newest update, not one reply in the bunch.

Wow...uhh, what needs to be said to get comments in here? It's nice to get a critique from more than just one person.

[Rex Anglorvm]

As others have said, you get way more many viewers than comments, look at my 'tale of rome' thread and you will see!I admire your writing, you construct your main characters in a multi-dimensional way so that they become living people, rather than sterotypical image of an ancient Greek or Roman. I think a little more blood would not be amiss, perhaps a little more intrigue too, perhaps knit togther the attack on Selene with some sort of nasty dealings to do with her cousin Aniketos?Your story flows nicely, taking the reader forwards through a natural chronology of time; perhaps a little more time could be spent introducing a few new characters to spice the story up so that we get to see a little more action?Overall, I am enjoying your work though, so have some rep+

[HunterKYA]

At present, I'm about a page into the next chapter.

You want action? Battles? Blood and gnarly stuff? Check, check, and check.

I'll be bringing in the introduction of a plot twist, you know...to throw in a bit of suspense. *muahahaha*

[Derbiean]

Standing by Hunter Aniketos...he's bad news and i do not relish his return whenever that will be

[HunterKYA]

The Conflict Within: Part I

Seven months later… Meridias finds himself part of the invasion of Gaul, a massive effort by Rome to subdue its menacing tribes once and for all, revenge for their sacking of the city some three and half centuries earlier. The expedition was led by some man named Caesar, yet another politician-turned-general seeking a temporary glory before, inevitably, he’d be snuffed out like a flame and replaced by someone as equally ambitious. If his experiences in Hispania were the measure of a man, Meridias didn’t expect much of this patrician, whom he predicted would fall on his sword, much as Fulvius Pulcher had done, when the situation became dire. Life on campaign was rough, the legions foraging and pilfering what they could during their advances deep into eastern Gaul. Upwards of six legions, plus untold thousands of auxiliaries, progressed unchecked, the native Gallic tribes keeping their distance until they could gain a substantial numerical advantage in their efforts to push the Romans out. The Romans too had kept their distance, for they’d been shadowing a large force of Helvetii, who’d crossed over from the eastern side of the Rhine River to launch an attack on the Aedui, a Gallic tribe loyal to Rome. By the middle of June in 58 B.C., the Romans had established themselves less than a day’s march from Bibracte, the largest and chief settlement of the Aedui. The legions and auxiliaries left their camps early one morning, the Helvetii, who were made aware that the enemy was no longer pursuing them and moving towards the settlement, decided that the time had come to engage the Roman army. Cornicens were sounded to assemble the legions, but this mustering would require a few hours, hours which the legions didn’t have with the enemy less than three hours from their position. With horns blaring and drums thundering, Meridias’ legion, the Twelfth Fulminata, was ordered to the rear of the formation along with the Eleventh Claudia and the auxiliaries, who were to act as support, while the veteran legions of the Seventh Claudia, Eighth Augusta, Ninth Hispana, and Tenth Equestris aligned themselves in the triplex acies formation. Caesar chose the terrain carefully, strategically placing the four main legions on the slope of a nearby hill, with the other two legions and auxiliaries formed up near the top. And to buy the infantry time, the equitatus, comprising Romans and Gallic auxiliaries alike, rode ahead to harass and delay the Helvetian advance so the bulk of the legions could form up in battle array. The time the cavalry bought was invaluable, for when they’d been driven off by the Helvetii, what they were met with were six prepared legions in battle order, plus twenty-thousand auxiliaries, who held a tactical superiority by being on the slope of a hill. This alone didn’t act as a deterrent, as the Helvetians outnumbered the Romans by more than half, and were confident they could overcome the challenge the legions were presenting them, they advanced toward the enemy. Across the field the Helvetians marched, banging weapons on shields, chanting and hooting warcries, packed together is a tight, phalanx-like formation as they drew closer to the Roman lines. Not intimidated, the veterans of the front ranks were unshaken while the enemy pressed forward, some spitting on the ground before them, while others shouted derogatory insults at the Helvetians’ mothers. Seems like no matter where a soldier is from or where he’s fighting, you’ll always be able to find those who’ll shout dubious comments to them about the women who birthed them. Every now and again, a particularly good one would spark a few laughs among the rank-and-file, even a centurion if one was lucky. Shields were brought to the ready when the Helvetians were within eighty meters, the legionaries in the forward-most cohorts calmed their nerves, the heavy war chants of the barbarians growing louder with each step drawing them closer. Orders from centurions across the front line resounded, “Ready pila!” as the Helvetians were now within killing range at twenty-five meters, each legionary raised their heavy javelin above the shoulder in firing position. A few meters closer, and across the line was heard, “Loose pila!” ‘Whoosh’ was the sound thousands of pila made as they rushed through the air in unison, like heavenly needles of death. Raining down in the Helvetian ranks, they were indiscriminate in the objects they touched, whether it was shield or flesh. It was a ghastly, albeit glorious sight, to see these weapons fulfilling their destinies. Some merely render the shields of their owners useless, others running through shield and shield-bearer alike, many contacted the flesh in a horribly spectacular fashion. They embedded themselves clean through men’s torsos, nearly severing arms and legs, and those unfortunate few who came close to being decapitated when the pila struck them through the skull. The dense formation had been effectively loosened by the heavy javelins, though this didn’t deter the Helvetians as they rushed toward the Roman lines, letting out blood-chilling screams. A thunderous crunch echoed when the Helvetians crashed into the legionaries’ shields, throwing their full weight into the battle, their swords and spears clanging and cracking against the scutii as the Romans stood firm to resist the initial onslaught. For the first tense minutes, the barbarian horde pushed relentlessly against the veteran cohorts, and looked to be gaining ground, however, it was the Roman lines flexing to accept the onrush, allowing the Helvetians to be drawn in. They had accepted the bait without fail. Throughout the supporting ranks, orders were given to the legionaries to release their pila. This might have been a dangerous move had the battle been fought on even terrain, but with the strategic placement of the Twelfth and Thirteenth, along with the auxiliaries, near the top of the hill, the trajectory of the javelins would inflict the greatest amount of damage on the Helvetians. The angle from which the javelins descended would also inflict more grievous wounds, further demoralizing the enemy from continuing the fight. Throughout the course of the battle, much of the heaviest fighting was conducted by the veterans, who were finding out that for all their numbers, the Helvetians couldn’t find men that could best a legionary in single combat. The stench of death hadn’t yet set in, although the blood from thousands of bodies scattered around the battlefield made it difficult to secure a firm purchase, with flies beginning to float around the warm corpses. A few hours later it was early afternoon, the outcome of the battle seemed decided, as the Romans were pushing the Helvetians in the same direction they’d been pursuing them the previous day, with some units starting to flee back to their camp. Around this point, the Boii and Tulingi, whose ranks had made up the rearguard of the Helvetian army, maneuvered their warriors around the Roman flank, and were poised to attack with a force fifteen-thousand strong. Concerned over this development, Caesar ordered the Twelfth, Thirteenth, and auxiliaries to change their facing to meet the Boii and Tulingi army that was threatening the Roman rear. With no time to properly redeploy, the legions had to face them as they were at present. When the two forces met, the combat was frantic and confused. Boii and Tulingi warriors fought ferociously, their large stature and intimidating appearances made far more daunting than they actually were. The barbarian style of fighting was undisciplined, individualistic, relying on brute strength without the use of tactics; while the Roman method of fighting centered on discipline, organization, and coordination, allowing them to routinely prevail against armies much large than themselves. This was clearly exemplified when a fearsome Boii warrior, who had a full beard, adorned in chainmail and a crude helmet, and wielding a broadsword and shield, spotted a centurion’s crest through the chaos of the battle. Through the cries and shouting, this barbarian spouted something off in his native tongue, trying in earnest to frighten the Roman, before charging at the man to deliver a blow to his shield. Naturally, the Roman deflected it easily with his scutum, the warrior immediately slashed his sword at the centurion and again, it was deflected away. Thrust, slash, backhand…the warrior, young and vigorous, was quickly becoming frustrated that none of his blows were finding their mark, and began to lash out wildly; while the centurion, patiently biding his time, was looking for a weakness in the barbarian’s technique. As the warrior was set to deliver a heavy blow, he raised the sword over his head and moved his shield away from the body, this was the opening the centurion had been looking for. Kneeling down and bringing the scutum over his head to parry the strike, the centurion sharply thrust his gladius deep into the warrior’s stomach, twisting the hilt as he withdrew the blade. Blood oozed from the warrior’s mouth, soaking into his beard as he crashed to his knees. Looking down at his fatally-stricken opponent, the centurion cynically sneered at him as the man experienced his last seconds on earth. Rotating the sword with the blade facing down, the centurion struck the man between his neck and collarbone, severing arteries that would hasten the warrior’s death. Withdrawing his blade, the centurion watched as the man fell into a heap on the ground, never to rise again, and maybe by giving him a soldier’s death, his gods won’t frown on him in the afterlife. Quickly wiping away the blood from his face, Meridias sardonically commented, “That’s how you show these f------ b------ who’s boss,” before engaging more oncoming enemies. This fight would stretch into mid-afternoon until the Boii and Tulingi, realizing they couldn’t match the Romans in a direct assault and with their lines collapsing, signaled their forces to retreat back to the main Helvetian camp. Over the horizon, the moon slowly began creeping into view when the battle was reaching its endgame, with the legions having pushed the Helvetians and their allies behind the walls of their camp. For the legionaries, whose bodies were tired, aching, bruised, and bleeding, their final objective was in their sights and nothing would deny them victory, let alone a weak barricade. Pushing through the wall proved little challenge, because once they reached the interior, nothing would be left standing, for the only way a barbarian left that camp alive was either they surrendered or had fled earlier in the day. At dawn the next day, the grim task of collecting the dead was started. The putrid smell of death was horrendous, with the picture of severed limbs and decapitated heads almost commonplace, bodies skewered with javelins like were being put on a spit to be roasted, and to the untrained eye, this would have been mortifying and grotesque. In the victorious aftermath of war. the populace believes it is glorious; to the soldiers returning from war, it is an escape from its dehumanizing effects. Meridias, in the midst of overseeing his surviving men combing through bodies to retrieve their fallen, was witness to corpses numbering in the tens of thousands strewn across the field. He couldn’t objectify the slaughter, for bringing death was his repertoire, though he didn’t want war to be all that defined him. Every man he killed, battle he fought, and day he survived, brought him closer to the life he’d sought for so long. With his optio Celeris standing at his shoulder, Meridias pulled a small clay figurine, something Selene had sent him, from the pouch on his belt, which bore an unmistakable female likeness. It was a reminder of whom he was fighting for; wanting to believe that the gods had imbued it with a piece of Selene’s spirit, in effect, to always keep her close and guide him through peril. Bringing it to his lips, Meridias kissed the figurine and slipped it back into the pouch. Celeris, catching it through the corner of his eye, commented to him, “What was that, centurion?” “That, Celeris, is my guiding light,” Meridias grinned, “She is the goddess who acts as my shield, a goddess whom I would move the heavens to be with again.” “Well, centurion,” Celeris remarked, “I’d say we’ve helped in getting you a bit closer to that," as the two were again reminded, with bodies lying everywhere, that this war wouldn’t soon be over.

[McScottish]

A centurion and an optio...now where have I read something about that certain partnership before... Well done Hunter, excellent writing as always, have some rep and I can't wait to see you're next 'entry'.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Ah yes, some blood and guts! Thats what the masses like too see!

Will rep when able+

Rex

[Scottish King]

Meridias on campaign is a nice change of pace. Liked the ending with the figurine. It was a nice touch!

[HunterKYA]

Currently working on the next update. Doing my best to weave the beginnings of the plot twist into the story, and it's proving a bit trickier than I thought. Should be able to get everything wrapped up and posted by the weekend.

[HunterKYA]

The Conflict Within: Part II

Two months later… Blood dripping from his nose, Meridias wiped it across his forearm, forming a long crimson streak running from the wrist to the elbow. The Fulminata had been placed on the left flank for the battle against the Suebi, having gotten hammered again and again by the fearsome Germanic people, whose numbers were only beaten back by Roman determination. With such fierceness and belligerence in their eyes, the normally stalwart Meridias didn’t know how the legion would hold much longer, each successive attack decimating its numbers little by little, and under the blows of similar attacks, the left flank would collapse without aid. Dire as the situation looked, a soldier fights until one of two outcomes has been attained: the enemy has been driven off or the enemy has overwhelmed him, and it is in those moments that one has the greatest clarity of all. Absolution. Whether he was a kind father and husband, respectful of his family, or if he was a man loving of debauchery and hedonism, it is when death is closest that they are as equals with little to distinguish them. Confusion was everywhere Meridias looked, with the Suebi swarming and having infiltrated the lines, the legion looked to be overrun; it was when he was fighting on desperately that he came across a scene of clarity. In a flash, the landscape was transformed, there was no battle or soldiers; instead, it was replaced by buildings and streets, people going about their lives, and from a distance, Meridias was witness to a boy walking with a girl and several paces behind, a pair of men was tailing them. Yelling out to the young couple, trying to warn them of the danger, it was little use however, as Meridias couldn’t be heard as he reached out for them. The boy and girl walked into a building, with the dubious fellows patiently biding their time. Time pushed forward a half hour before the men made their move, after a jump of a few minutes more, Meridias watched as the boy carried the girl’s body through the streets. Coming out of the dream, he was struck with a terrible headache. It was a Suebi swordsman having knocked Meridias to the ground, standing over him, ready to swing the death blow. Were it not for the vigilance of Celeris, standing mere feet away and using his scutum to deflect the stroke, the centurion would have met his end then and there. The optio doggedly fought off the swordsman, finding enough time to hoist Meridias back to his feet before the next enemy came their way. Coming to his senses, Meridias continued the fight for several more minutes, when, a couple hundred meters off, the rumble of cavalry was heard thundering ever closer. Several moments later, a momentous crash of horses slammed into the Suebi flank, stunning and throwing them off balance, the legions on the left were given a reprieve and began to staunchly defend their position. Shifting the balance, the two legions on the left began exerting their influence over the barbarians, whose warriors were being steadily pushed back. This change in fortune was in concert with the four legions holding the right flank, which had had their way the Suebi since contact was initiated earlier in the day. It wasn’t long before the Suebi chieftains, notably Ariovistus, deigned it folly to continue the fight, for even by comfortably outnumbering Caesar’s legion by two-to-one, his people hadn’t been able to gain a tactical advantage throughout the day. With trumpets sounding, the Germans began their slow retreat from the field. When the Suebi fled, the legions harassed them until late in the afternoon, inflicting several thousand more casualties before pursuit was called off. A few hours later, the Romans had found their back to their camps. Back in his tent, Meridias couldn’t fathom what had come over him during the battle, how everything had been so vivid, so real, yet it wasn’t, which is what troubled him. Nothing like this happening had ever come over him, letting it leech into his thoughts that the specter had returned, but he couldn’t reason why it’d be revisiting him now, as it’d been a fabrication of Selene and once she’d returned, they’d vanished. This, on the other hand, was something else entirely, seeing how it’d come on without warning or provocation. Nursing a twisted knee, acquired when he’d been knocked down by the Suebi swordsman, Meridias was resting on his mat when a familiar face ducked in to check up on him. Celeris sat down next to his centurion, seeing the wrap around his knee, “You going to be alright walking around on that?” Propping himself upright, Meridias answered, “Nothing a full night’s rest won’t help. Surgeon said I should be fit to terrorizing the men in the morning.” A couple moments passed in silence. “Celeris,” Meridias muttered, “thanks for having my back out there today.” The optio was direct when he stated, “Sir, if I can speak freely, what happened out there? One second, you’re holding your own, the next…it’s like you were caught in a dream.” “I don’t know what it was,” Meridias confessed, his eyes darting away, “it’s like I was caught in a memory, but only as a spectator, not the one living it. Felt as real as you sitting next to me, it was the day that led me here, something that’s defined my life.” “For what it’s worth, I’ll keep this quiet,” Celeris assured him, “I’ve known and respected you long enough to maintain this confidentially. I wouldn’t trust the milites to keep silent, because they know how to keep a secret about as well as a whore knows to keep her legs closed.” They both grinned at the quip. “All joking aside, if it reaches a tribune, it won’t be long until it reaches the ears of the legate. He’ll question if these battles are affecting you more than physically, and they’ll question your leadership,” Celeris explained. Meridias stated, “I know the procedure, Celeris.” “Anyways sir, I need to get back to it. If I don’t get on night watch, senior centurion will be breathing down my neck for a week,” Celeris said as he exited the tent. This left Meridias a bit of time to interpret what that vision was he saw during the battle. As sounds of camp life were heard outside, and the faint light of torches dancing around in the darkness of night, Meridias pondered the meaning behind the scenes, leaving him curious as to why his presence had had no effect on the outcome. The most he gathered was it’d been the day he’d left Heraclea, but if he knew the outcome, why was he hallucinating? Why did it carry such a weight from the past, that it would endanger his life now? After the strenuous day he’d had, all Meridias could think was getting a decent night of rest. He took some time shortly beforehand to reread a letter Selene had written him before the campaign had begun, speaking of how Atellus was eagerly awaiting the chance to meet him and how she longed to be with him again. This thought, in itself, brought a smile to Meridias’ face, prompting him to find the small pouch he normally wore on his belt sitting next to his mat. Reaching over, he grabbed the pouch and pulled out figurine, whispered a small prayer to himself, taking a moment to imagine whom it represented, kissed it and careful placed it back in the pouch. Resting his head on the mat, Meridias shut his eyes and went to sleep. “Why haven’t you said anything?” a phantom whispered in his dream. A voice roused Meridias from his sleep, a voice coming from nowhere. He sat up on the mat, looked around to see if anyone was there, but when he saw it was nothing, Meridias laid back down and went to sleep. “You’re the one responsible!” This time, the voice shouted the words. Frightened, Meridias rolled off the mat, with pulse racing, his head was darting in every which direction find where the voice was coming from, yet, like before, the source eluded him. Hesitantly rolling back onto the bed, Meridias calmed himself, laying his head down and going back to sleep. “Murderer, MURDERER!!!” The voice screamed at him through the dream. Only this time, Meridias wasn’t allowed to wake up, forced to watch, in unbearable horror, the shadowy figures of an adult and child being cut down by another shadowy apparition, who disappeared into a hazy distance. What looked like blood pooled under the figures, and Meridias cried out to them, helpless to give them aid. The dream ended with him on his knees, face buried in his hands weeping, with the voice murmuring “This will happen, if nothing is said.” Shortly thereafter, when he awoke, Meridias sat upright in pure silence, seeing a tinge of sunlight coming in from outside. Feeling his face was wet, he initially thought it was sweat that’d formed during sleep, though when he used a hand to wipe away the moisture, there was a columns running down his cheeks. The tears, from the dream, had in fact been real. Rising from the mat, Meridias could flex his knee, but not without wincing every now and again from the pain. Although limited in his range of movements, this injury wouldn’t be enough to hinder his duties. Since the sun hadn’t yet crested fully over the horizon, Meridias saw fit to go from tent to tent to wake the men who were still asleep, observing as what remained of his century got themselves ready for the day. While Meridias was patient for a centurion, he made certain to convey an urgency to his soldiers always be organized and ready to move at any time. “Come on ladies, I’m injured and could move twice as fast as any of you!” Meridias spouted off, not to demean or degrade, but to encourage. Within minutes of being roused, Meridias’ century, the forty-five who survived the battle fell in behind their centurion, to march the seven kilometers distance between the legion’s camp and the battle sight. Their task, repugnant as it might be but one which was necessary, was to identify and recover the bodies of Romans they could identify, to give their mortal vessels rites and prayers for their passages to Elysium. Taking each step was like have a dagger jabbed in the knee, Meridias grimaced to himself, doing his best not to show any outward signs of pain. During this time, his mind was focused elsewhere, primarily on deciphering those messages the howling voice had spoken of during his dreams the previous night. At this point, when he thought the clarity of his life had become unobstructed, something else comes to the forefront to confound him, one more obstacle to climb over. It was like a game the gods delighted in playing, watching as the mortal attempted to devise plans to circumvent their machinations, they knew that ultimately, time was one their side. Supervising the collection of corpses, Meridias made small talk with Celeris throughout the day, occasionally directing him to watch over men venturing into areas that’d been sparsely cleared since the battle. When their shift on the field had ended, the century had gathered roughly one-hundred bodies from the field, whose remains couldn’t be identified until their signaculum were matched to legion rosters back in the camps. And it didn’t escape Meridias’ attention, that if it weren’t for the hand of Fate and a bit of luck, he would be lying amidst this unfortunate multitude. Pulling out the figurine from the pouch on his belt, Meridias couldn’t help but wonder if it indeed had some sacred spell connected to it. But such were the superstitions soldiers lived by, clinging on to the hope that a simple talisman, of any shape or color, would act as a shield to help them see another dawn. With the sun slowly crawling down the sky from its terminus, the century found itself marching back to camp, where it would rest for a couple hours before that start of nightly patrols. Cloth in hand, Meridias was dusting himself off and hadn’t been back in his tent five minutes when a messenger came by, informing him to proceed to the praetorium without delay. Wiping off his face, Meridias tossed the cloth to ground, making his way without haste to the commander’s tent. Thoughts were running through his head, concerned why he was being summoned before the legatus, when nothing besides the incident during the battle the day prior could have brought any attention to himself. The last thing Meridias wanted, was to be reprimanded for a slight lapse in concentration. When reaching the interior of the praetorium, Meridias saw the legatus was speaking to a mercenary, whose face was too dimly lit to recognize and who turned his back before he’d gotten any closer. Saluting the legatus, “Centurion Aemilius reporting, sir” he acknowledged. “Ahh yes…Aemilius. Our illustrious imperator Caesar has deemed it a priority to secure reinforcements. He has tasked each commander to request one soldier, along with several others, to return to Italia in order to attract new recruits. We have suffered grievously at the hands of these barbarians, and our numbers need replenishing. Given your years of service, and ability to instill valor in others, I am giving you the obligation of attracting fresh bodies to fill our ranks,” the legatus stated plainly. “Where in Italia will I be sent?” Meridias asked. “Rome.” The legatus replied. Before Meridias could get ahead of himself, the commander continued, “Select a group of eight men to supplement you, for our imperator has many enemies within the city, so you are to tread lightly and be discreet in your recruitment efforts. Once your group is chosen, you are to find your way to Genua, where you are to board ship for Rome. Make whatever accommodations you need to, for the duration of your stay is unknown.” “Is there anything else, sir?” Meridias asked as he was about to salute. “Yes, there is. Your group is to be reinforced by some mercenaries we’ve recently had come into camp,” the legatus pointed out, with the anonymous mercenary turning around, coming into view. The legatus indicated, “I believe you two are acquainted, or so I’ve been told.” Meridias’ eyes peered over to his commander, then looked toward the man just as his face became visible. Of all people it had to be, it was…Aniketos!

[HunterKYA]

Per the results of the MCWC, I won't be submitting my work again.

In terms of cumulative totals, of both content volume and overall time spent, it feels like a wasted effort.

[Rex Anglorvm]

A great update there, and glad too see the bad penny has returned to dog our hero's steps...

Re the MCWC, it all depends, if you write to win thats one thing, but if you write anyway and the contest is coincedental, then entering will do no harm either.

Rep+

[Magister Militum Flavius Aetius]

I love this, excellent storytelling! I may have to write a tale of the Glory of Rome when Starscape is finished.

[HunterKYA]

Currently working on the newest update. It's going to having a major reveal, but what it is and what it'll mean for the story, you'll have to wait and see.

[Scottish King]

Looking forward to your next update!

[HunterKYA]

The Conflict Within: Part III

The motley group trekked on through the Alps as the telltale signs of fall were starting to show themselves, with an ever so slight chill in the air and the rustling of the leaves in the trees. Passing into Roman territory about a week into their journey, relatively little had taken place that was worthy of speaking of, which could also be said about the Romans and mercenaries. From the time they’d left Fulminata’s camp, an unsettling tension existed between Meridias and Aniketos, and while no words were exchanged, the groups maintained their distance from one another. Days passed into nights and nights into days, the rivals kept some space between them, letting their men swap stories and trinkets, but none with each other. When they needed orders or directions relayed, they did so through their lieutenants, for they’d heard enough of their voices the previous year, it was the preference not to hear the other speak. When the group was about a day’s march from their destination, Aniketos, is his own characteristic way, decided it best to ride up to join Meridias at the head of the short column. Having kept his mouth silent for most of the journey, he wanted to annoy the centurion for the sake of getting under his skin once more. Whistling for a couple seconds, Aniketos remarked, “Lovely weather we’ve had on this little trip, isn’t it?” pleasantly smirking at the Roman. “What do you want? Your voice is grating on my ears.” Meridias said indifferently. “Now now, is that any way of speaking to an old friend?” Aniketos replied, laughing. Spitting off to the side, Meridias answered, “How, in that convoluted mind of yours, are we friends? I’d let alone have slit your throat, dumped your body in the woods a couple miles outside of camp and said we’d been ambushed.” “You overestimate your abilities and doubt mine,” Aniketos mockingly retorted. “I don’t underestimate anything,” Meridias said, “Because in the right set of circumstances, you’d be an adequate fighter, but I’d still place my bets on Selene beating you.” “How’s the b---- doing these days?” Aniketos unconsciously spat out. Knowing that this was an explosion waiting to happen, Meridias tried snuffing it out by lying, “Wouldn’t know, haven’t seen or heard from her for close to a year.” “You expect me to believe that? That girl was infatuated with you, I could see it in her eyes when I was in that cell.” Aniketos sneered back at him. “It’s the truth, now leave it alone,” Meridias insisted. “If you say so, but how do you know she hasn’t spread her legs again? How do you know she isn’t f---ing someone else’s shaft? How do you know she hasn’t popped out another kid? A year is a long time for something to happen.” Aniketos taunted. Gritting his teeth, Meridias replied, “Maybe because I know she isn’t you. Drop it!” Aniketos smiled, “True, she isn’t me,” he then deflected, “but maybe she doesn’t know you as well as she thinks.” “What are you talking about?” Meridias asked. Casually looking at his fingernails, Aniketos grinned, “Some ten years ago, fed up with that girl having always looked down on me, spoken down to me, I planned to have her roughed up as a means to an end. Only thing is, some street rat who’d garnered her attention intervened.” His blood pressure rising, Meridias wanted to drag Aniketos from his horse and pummel him until there was nothing left to recognize. Instead of acting, he wouldn’t speak, letting Aniketos prattle on until he’d had his fill. “From the three men I gathered, two acted as the muscle, one as a messenger. This group had tailed my cousin for weeks, learning her habits and routines. Everything had fallen into place when they noticed this straggly looking guy, who’d become smitten over my cousin, in the markets one day. These men introduced themselves, posing as his friends, using this as a ploy. Weeks passed, and they shadowed the pair everywhere they were found together.” Aniketos claimed. Meridias listened attentively, waiting for the moment he could justify killing Aniketos. “When I decided it was the right time, I relayed the information to the group. They announced it to the street rat, whom the messenger told me unwillingly went along with it, wanting to object but smartly realized, being outnumbered, he would’ve been beaten and left to die in the street if he’d objected. Anyway, this guy leads my cousin to the docks, indirectly signaling the group to follow wherever they went. Leading them to a brothel several blocks away, the muscle patiently waited a half hour before making their move, leaving the messenger to stand watch and vanish should anything go awry.“ Aniketos said. It was the waiting that was killing Meridias, though he tried his best not to lead on what he was planning through his body language. “The last thing the messenger saw before he left, was the guy carrying my cousin’s body through the streets in the rain. Nothing was seen of the kid after that night.” Aniketos concluded. Wanting to appear curious, Meridias asked, “You ever find out what this kid’s name was?” “All my guys heard was Cornelius, nothing else. They did know he was Roman, that’s for sure, just by his accent,” Aniketos announced. Feeling that Aniketos was unsuspecting, Meridias believed the discussion over. “Although,” Aniketos continued, “they did tell me, he was a little taller than average.” A few tense moments passed as he looked over at Meridias on his horse, thought it over a second, then said, “You’re a bit taller than average…” This was when Meridias, with a sharp whistle, signaled the group to halt its march. He quickly dismounted the horse, grabbing an unwitting Aniketos by his armor, wrenching him off his horse and into the dirt. Meridias knelt over the mercenary, throwing a couple brutal punches into the side of Aniketos’ face. He looked up at Meridias, mouth bloodied, just smiling. Swirling the blood around, Aniketos spat on Meridias’ armor, bragging to him, “Always seem to get under your skin, don’t I? There was something off about you, from the minute I saw you with her.” Holding Aniketos by his armor with one hand, Meridias drew his pugio with the other, pressing it flush against the Greek’s windpipe. “Do it Roman, do it and stand a hypocrite,” Aniketos demanded, “It’ll be news to her ears, to learn that her lover and father of her child, was involved in the incident which nearly took her life.” Meridias pressed the blade harder, to the brink it would puncture the skin. “That’s it, harder!” he urged Meridias, “Whether you tell her or I do, she will leave you, feeling betrayed by the very person she trusted. I guarantee I will slander you in the worst way imaginable, portraying you as a predator, who’d been luring her into a trap from the second he met her. Regardless of what you tell her, she won’t look at you the same way. She will abandon you, taking your son with her, and you will never see them again. I promise you!” Meridias had a sadistic look in his eyes, as he held the blade taut against Aniketos’ throat, the type of look a soldier has when he’s been unhinged. The Greek hadn’t predicted this reaction, and wouldn’t openly admit it, but was inwardly frightened by what he’d unleashed. Aniketos didn’t let this show on the exterior, appearing brash and confident, even on the losing end of a battle. Both the Romans and mercenaries stood where they were, fearful that the wrong move or utterance could send Meridias against them. For those witness to this, it was like hours, not seconds, as they felt like the tension hadn’t come to a head, despite what all had happened. Meridias looked poised to open the Greek’s throat, so tired was he of hearing Aniketos’ voice and the lies he wished to spread, to satisfy his innate wanting for attention. “You,” Meridias addressed him, rage in his eyes, “are a spoiled brat who's starved for acceptance, or maybe you didn’t suck your mother’s t*** long enough when you were a child, I don’t give a s---! I hear one whisper from you, I won’t open your throat, that’ll be too easy. No…I will cut off your head and crucify your body, for the crows and wolves to gnaw at until there’s nothing left. I will see that all trace of you is wiped away, where no one will remember you existed.” Aniketos grinned, “You’d have to kill your whore for that to happen.” Disgusted, Meridias took the blade from Aniketos’ throat, slamming it into the Greek’s shoulder. Howling in agony, Aniketos cried, “I hope you live to regret that! “ Returning the blade to the mercenary’s throat, Meridias signaled for the legionaries to come over. When he saw them hesitate, Meridias commanded, “Anyone who stands there will join him! Get over here…now!” A handful of these legionaries were veterans, some with as many as fifteen years. Few had seen an officer go on such a tirade, but none whose purpose was as vindictive as this. They cautiously approached their centurion. Having gotten their full attention, Meridias announced, “I want this man bound, gagged, strapped to his horse and led in the opposite direction. Leave him no food or water, so that he can die of thirst long before hunger sets in.” Once Meridias stood up, the legionaries moved in and restrained Aniketos. “There’s no need for this. We can work something out!” Aniketos pleaded. Turning to face the Greek, Meridias responded, “You had your chance to repent, yet stubbornly refused. Groveling and bargaining for your life comes too little, too late. For all your posturing, when you have Death staring you in the face and the Fates waiting to judge you, you cower like a simpleton, asking forgiveness. Sadly, forgiveness is nowhere to be found with me, in regards to you.” These words came as the legionaries were gagging Aniketos, preventing any type of response. “Whatever truths you know, will die with you. But as you pass into Tartarus, be assured, she will learn the truth, just not the lies you would’ve told her.” Meridias pointed out while the legionaries were binding Aniketos’ hands, strapping him to the horse’s saddle by way of a long leather belt. A couple minutes later, when all was ready, Meridias indicated for someone to slap the horse on his hind-quarter. Once a firm smack was applied, the horse began trotting away from them with Aniketos in tow, struggling to keep up. Without a glance over his shoulder, Meridias mounted his horse, ordering the group to proceed on to their destination of Genua, while Aniketos, on the other hand, was heading steadily westward.

[Scottish King]

Antiketos drove the man too far. He should have saw that coming. Good update!

[Rex Anglorvm]

A very good update, although I've a feeling it will not be the last we see of the weasel known as Antiketos.

Rep+

[HunterKYA]

I'm thinking about putting the story on hiatus for a while.

Main reason, the lack of critiques is wearing thin, which is leaving me relatively uninspired to continue the storyline. Secondly, I've been playing with the idea of venturing into sci-fi over the past couple weeks, going over details such as characters, plot, locations, lore, backstory etc., because a change in scenery might do some good and spark more creativity.

It feels like with the influx of sci-fi stories and their popularity, maybe TfaPL has, figuratively, run out of steam. Honestly, I don't know what I'll do atm.

[Rex Anglorvm]

I'm thinking about putting the story on hiatus for a while.

Main reason, the lack of critiques is wearing thin, which is leaving me relatively uninspired to continue the storyline. Secondly, I've been playing with the idea of venturing into sci-fi over the past couple weeks, going over details such as characters, plot, locations, lore, backstory etc., because a change in scenery might do some good and spark more creativity.

It feels like with the influx of sci-fi stories and their popularity, maybe TfaPL has, figuratively, run out of steam. Honestly, I don't know what I'll do atm.

Don't be too disheartened; sometimes you can run out of steam for ages on a project only to find your interest rekindled in it at a later date.

That’s happened to me countless times, I often have more then one story on the go at a time, as it keeps things interesting. As for a lack of critique, that may well be because people like your work and don’t wish to add criticism, even if it’s only constructive!

Keep writing because you enjoy it!