Both sides face each other at opposite sides of the battlefield from yesterday, the stench of smoke and blood still fill the air to some degree. We hear that the officers simply named the battle, Final Eternity. Although I found the name a bit bland, in all truth I believe it didn’t matter. The ceremony was conducted by the meeting of Generals from both sides. When our own General Vaxides read the official Persian letter and inspected the seal for authenticity while the Persian Leader General Izari did the same with the Remanian letter. When both Generals returned the letters and saluted each other we knew the war was now over. The cheers of both armies are much more deafening than the fiercest battle cries or loudest explosion, the Long War was finally over and yet despite my happiness I find my heart beating really fast, my fingertips tingling with adrenaline and my eyesight becoming stronger. It was fear that I felt.
I take a few short breaths and simply focus on watching the Persian Land Ships march away on their gigantic steel limbs. The smoke coming out of their pipes were much more grey than black since most Persian machines were usually powered by burning oil instead of coal. From a distance we see some Persian soldiers from the Land Ship’s deck saluting by placing their blade’s hilts pressed on their hearts. We reply in turn by doing saluting by raising our weapons.
The Land Ships begin to fade from view with only smoke and giant holes in the ground left as proof of their existence. We hear a horn blowing signalling the army to return to Camp Darian, as soon as we reached camp everyone was ordered to pack up and begin marching. Everyone’s mood was so cheery that even we wounded helped in the packing up.
As we helped in disassembling the encampment I begin to think back on the events of the day. The war was over, but judging from the how the demeanour of my fellow soldiers went, it was clear that many felt that this was just a dream. I go back to the strange fear I felt earlier maybe that’s what it was just uncertainty. A lot of us younger Legionnaires entered thinking we would die in battle. I think back to my past and remember the events that brought me here
I was 16 when I graduated from the Legionary Academy in Capua, in a matter of weeks I was already in the Northern Border, driving my sword through the neck of a charging Persian, the very next day I survived my first explosion but I could not say the same for many in my Cohort. That singular moment made me fully realize the situation I was in, and that I had just entered an event that was called the Long War. After time, death started inching closer to me, it didn’t take my brothers but it took many friends, close friends. Riiger, was my closest friend, we had known each other since we were small boys back in Capua. He died after a piece of shrapnel ripped through his neck and a splash of burning oil coated the entire left side of his body. I still keep his blood stained wooden crucifix in my pocket promising to return it back to his family, he requested it seconds before he choked on his blood. I dig in my pocket for the crucifix and pull it out. It still had the dark stains of Riiger’s blood. It was a simple oak cross and didn’t contain any carved icon of Christ on it like the ones in the State Rosaries back home; Perhaps Riiger was an Orthodox.
I was never serious with matters of faith but our Uncle Servo would bring us to the cathedral every Sunday when we were young. He was an Orthodox himself. I only found myself there because I was dragged to it but I believed Varkii and Lurti felt something different in that place at least for a while till Uncle Servo died. Varkii neglected his job at the blacksmith and became enamoured with the concepts of drunkenness while Lurti began ignoring his studies at the Schola Academia and turned to the touch of various women.
Ironically despite my apathy towards religion, I became a prayerful lad during those times, I was only a boy of 11 years old then but I had toil for more coin at the butcher’s shop just pay for Varkii’s drunken revelries and medicine for Lurti’s wounds when getting in fights all over the city. A woman who was under a committed relationship with another man was something he was oddly fond of. Eventually as their foolishness took its toll, the two began to act a bit more civil. Varkii drank less but still got into trouble, Lurti flirted around but got in trouble with fathers now instead of husbands and men he stole women from. Yet I still had to toil harder at the butcher’s shop because of their occasional foolishness. Eventually I could not take any more of it; one day I simply told them that I was entering the Legionary Academy and that I would be leaving. That little decision of mine got them back into their sense; their little baby brother was out to go off into the Long War and will probably bleed to death after losing his torso.
My brothers immediately decided they would be joining also, claiming “responsibilities as the elder siblings” so we headed for the place that every child in Capua knew only by its nickname, Hell Wolve’s Den. I always thought it was a charming title for such a place.
The training we endured was indeed a journey racked with pain and suffering. A day of was started by running through a dense forest in a very short amount of time. Through the ordeal, we would be wearing full armor, from uniform tunic and chain mail shirt to plate armor so heavy it could stop most weapons. After that it was fighting, then formations, command terms, engineering. But through all that were the Lanistaes, screaming orders and mercilessly beating anyone who dared to show any signs of slowing down. Finally at the end of the day everyone had to hit the firing range, all in formation and under the watch of a Lanistae of course.
Every soldier of Remas carries a firearm. Gunners carry Muskets and Bows if the commander demanded it, while Spearmen and Legionnaires carried the Carbine.
It was during our training in the firing range, where Varkii cemented his reputation as a capable marksman. Even a moving target was no match for him.
I had to admit I was a bit jealous of Varkii at that time, back home I was a good shot with a fire arm myself. Uncle Servo would take occasionally take us hunting in the outskirts of Capua. Varkii would always hunt birds with a pistol while Lurti usually hunted small game with a bow.
I preferred to use a musket; I would always go for wild boar. It was common for me to bring home the least amount of game but always the largest. I’d sit for hours just waiting for the right sized boar to take down. Then I’d come home with just one boar but it’d always be really huge then we’d sell some to the butcher then Uncle Servo would cook the rest…
The flooding of memories begins to fill me up with rather strong emotions. Tears had begun to well up in my eyes. But as I try my best to choke them back; some of the tears drop on Riiger’s crucifix and slowly wash away the blood. I guess I’ve always kept blood stains as reminder of Riiger’s death but the sight of his dried blood washing off the crucifix told me that Riiger’s death was over and all that was left for me was to return the crucifix back to his family. I put the crucifix back to my pocket and say a promise to Riiger again in my head, it calms me down a bit as I pack up the rest of my things, wipe off my tears and prepare for the 7 hour march to the nearest city, Iasi.
It’s early in the afternoon when the Legion begins the march; everyone is much more cheery than usual after all we were going back to civilization. Some of these soldiers have been serving for at least 20 years now, our General Vaxides has been serving for 50 years straight. The smiles on everyone’s faces are clearly evident despite the terrible Northland cold, the Centurions even allowed loose marching formations. So Cohorts were allowed to mix ranks, with that I marched with Lurti and Varkii. I noticed throughout the march Lurti constantly smelt the blue strap in his wrist while Varkii and I talk about our plans to start our own business. Varkii was thinking of making deals with butcher shops at the tower levels in Capua where wild game was pretty much scarce. “We’ll be rich Pup! Imagine all those pompous senators an
The crowd’s roar becomes stronger when the Red Wolf draws first blood by hitting the Iron Ram’s head, the Ram spits out blood but isn’t down yet so he strikes back at the Red Wolf’s side. The Wolf immediately blocks it and kicks the Iron Ram in the chest and hits his face again with the sword. Killing isn’t allowed in Gladiatorial games anymore, the weapons are blunted and hollow but the attacks still draw blood and blood is all the crowd really cares for. As for me all I care about is the rush of the crowd and the thrill of watching the Champion Of Capua defeat his opponent. But all of my hopes of seeing victory turns dim as the Iron Ram sweeps the Red Wolf’s feet and kicks his face as the Wolf’s body hits the ground. The crowd’s thunderous applause turns into loud cries of fear and worry as the Iron Ram raises his 2 swords to finish off
“Every Legion is divided into two distinct units, Cadet Molag Broner, what are those units?” I freeze for a second but I take a short deep breath to break the anxiety. “Sir, every Legion is divided into Companies and the Companies are divided into Cohorts sir!.” “Correct Cadet Molag, now first and foremost what does a Legionnaire fight for Cadet Rook?” The Cadet in question was a bulky man, roughly around my age. He would always brag about his days as a young boxer. “The Legionnaire fights for the honor and the preservation of the Remanian Empire.” The Lanistae, clearly unimpressed lets out a harsh southland curse and punches Rook in the stomach, making him clutch his stomach in pain “Cadet Rook! Do you mean to tell me that your honor is more important than the lives of your fellow Legionnaires?” Rook straightens his posture and lets out
I had completely forgotten how great beer tasted like, over the past 5 years the only drink we’d ever taste was either 2 week fermented “wine” or on special days blueberry rum. But even blueberry rum begins to taste like stale water after 5 years. So the taste of cold malt beer was one of the few things I had been looking forward to since the treaty. Over the past 30 minutes since Lurti’s knock out, Varkii and I must have tried over five kinds of grain ales. Varkii being the smart drinker was barely drunk yet but as for me, it was the opposite. Like Lurti I always was a weak drinker but I wasn’t looking forward to getting passed out. “I’m going out for some air.” I tell Varkii as I stumble towards the door.
“Legionnaire Molag Broner Cohort 46 3rd Company 17th Legion Bright Tigers, I’m here to check for the belongings of deceased Legionnaire Riiger Clarion also from Cohort 46 17th Legion Bright Tigers.”“Riiger Clarion? Knew the lad, he’d be sending letters whenever he could. Good with the sword but bad with the shield. Not too smart for a Remanian I’ll wager”“That’s him indeed sir, we both grew up in New Capua and also went to New Capuan Military Academy. He almost didn’t make it because of his slow shield arm.”“
By nightfall I had already woken up and the rest of the camp was already considerably rowdy, the smell of roasting meat and nearly every type of ale in existence was everywhere. Normally on a “peaceful day” we would conduct some combat drills to stay in shape but the war was over. By some crack in the laws of war we were all discharged so there was no point in conducting any more drills. Lurti and Varkii were out there enjoying themselves drinking their own skulls off with the rest of their unit. Normally a soldier like me would just enjoy the party but I wasn’t in the mood to endure the noise of an entire Remanian Legion going drunk, I’ve seen it enough times when veterans try to forget where they are. I just wanted to find some peace and quiet so I could read Riiger’s Journal. So I grab a goat leg and opt instead to go back to Iasi alone so
“So soldier, would wine do you good today? I know you’re not here for the ale” The barmaid asks. “Oh no thank you, water would be fine.” I reply. She gives me a puzzled look and then says “There’s probably some boiled water that has cooled down. I’ll go fetch you some.” Before she leaves she gives me a small wink and walks towards the kitchen. I try to guess why she gave me a puzzled look till I remembered that inside any Remanian city; water is as filthy as a pig’s ass. In the battlefield clean water was easier to get by because we always left some buckets out for the rains. Here in the city people would rather drink ale and rum to avoid whatever diseases had cooked up in the water. Of course folks around would boil water but boiling hot water isn’t something you’d be drinking instantly. The barmaid arrived in a few minutes carrying a mug of
I wake up to the sting of cold water and the site of Varkii standing beside my bed with a bucket in his hand. Varkii, realizing I’m still half asleep pours another bucket of cold water at me. “What was that for!?” I yell at him as I get off the bed. “Get up strap on your armor, we don’t have time” This was the first time I had seen the whole Iasi camp under duress. Hundreds of soldiers were running around in full battle gear, I could hear the Centurion’s whistling along with the confusion of the many soldiers who had just woken up from their hangovers. “Varkii, what’s going on?” I ask him while I step off my bed desperately bearing through the pain in my leg while I search for my sword under a pile of bottles and pig bones. “There’