Daniel Ottalini - Antioch Burns

As the smoke cleared, the cannons ceased firing. A deafening quiet descended the battlefield. Regillus reassured the men around him, who were beginning to panic.

“Remain at your posts!” Regillus ordered. “Make them fight for every step! Keep a steady eye, men! The Mongols will test us soon enough. Centurion, I need a demi-cohort here to accompany me to the breach,” he demanded. The shell-shocked centurion nodded without speaking as half of his manpower was pulled away.

Regillus raced back to the central compound. The advantage of being besieged on such a small island was more apparent when having to move from one place to another. Several messengers accosted him along the way, requesting instructions and directions.

“Stay at your posts and prepare to repel an enemy assault.” He repeated to each panicked courier, attempting to calm the jittery soldiers.

Inside, Regillus’ own body was in upheaval. Shock, surprise, and fear warred with each other to dominate him. Taking advantage of their disorganization, Regillus fought through his own feelings to demonstrate his calm, consistent demeanor. He only slipped once, when an aide from the main gate commander asked for orders a remarkable fourth time. Losing himself, Regillus screamed at the man.

“If your tribune does not seem to understand those orders, legionnaire, then by the gods’ I will come down there, take command, and send him outside the walls with just a knife. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” With that, the messenger fled, his cape streaming behind him.

“Legate General, where would you like me to position my bucerelli? ” Ioannes asked. He had been woken from sleep, and was only looking more functional after having downed a large, steaming mug of tea.

“At the breach, along with our central reserve. The fallen tower here,” Regllius tapped the newly updated three-dimensional map. “Drive back the Mongolian forces and make them bleed,” Regillus growled. The entire siege was balanced on the edge of a sharp gladius , and Regillus knew that every minute he wasted giving orders was one that allowed the Mongolians more time to organize their assault.

Ioannes saluted.

“Save me a space on one of those airships,” he quipped. Regillus gave a short chuckle.

“Let’s make sure we both get a space. Alive.”

The young legate general clasped his fist to his chest. “May Mercury grant you his speed, and your Christ watch over you.”

Ioannes made the motion of a cross on his chest, then turned in a flash of cloak. His personal bodyguards formed up around him as he swept out of the room. Regillus turned to his other advisors, their faces grim.

“How far away is the relief fleet, Hypatos Junic?”

“About four to six hours away, my general. That of course, depends on wind, cloud cover, their ability to navigate…”

“So you’re saying plan for six, prepare for eight or more?”

The former governor’s aide shrugged slightly, eyes rereading the last reports in an attempt to glean additional details. A brief pause, then his dark eyes met Regillus’.

“Sir, I’m saying plan for twelve hours. We must hope they make better time.” The words were heavy in the air, the other advisors staring down at the table, as though examining the information would yield different results. Regillus forged ahead.

“I see. And all civilian populations have been secured at the airfield?”

“As many as we could fit, sir. The rest are here in the palace.”

Regillus strode to the large open windows that looked north, out over the Orestes River. A small, sheltered harbor protected by large towers and a thick metal portcullis, raised via pistons and winches, framed the view. Moonlight shone down, reflecting off the river. Unnatural motion on the river drew his eye. He pulled out his binoculars and scanned the river. At first, he saw only the moonlight and waves.

“Sir?” an officer asked, curious. Regillus ignored him.

There!

“Centurion Eruminus. Get a messenger to the northern river towers immediately. Tell them to prepare for an assault.”

“Sir? But the Mongols are all focused on the wall breach.”

“Boats, man! The Mongolians have a second assault planned. While our attention is at the breach, they’ll sneak in our back door.”

Regillus handed his binoculars to the centurion.

“Keep an eye on them from here. I will take the civilian reserve and the city watch to assist in the defense.”

“My lord, I could send for a cohort or two from the reserve…”

“No! All of our legionnaires are needed at the breach. That must hold until the air fleet arrives. Civilians can better defend from the wall defenses anyways. Keep me appraised.” The centurion saluted numbly, before turning back to watch the wave of Mongolian boats float down the river.

Regillus motioned to his small bodyguard unit, the excubitors, elite soldiers closely connected to the famous Praetorian Guard in Rome. They practically oozed lethality as they navigated their way through the packed corridors, weaving their way between the small knots of refugees taking shelter from the Mongolian attack.

“Make way for the legate general! Make way!” His signifer excubitor ordered. The governor had been provided with ten for his rank, yet only four had remained behind when the coward fled the city. These men had offered their loyalty to Regillus, as de facto leader of the city. A clear passage allowed Regillus to speed up, and they soon arrived in a small courtyard. His excurbitors formed up behind him, their top rated equipment and armor shinning in the moonlight. By contrast, the men in the courtyard were a motley assortment armed with scavenged weapons of every type.

With the fall of the city, the civic legion had been folded into the remnants of the Syrian IV. Their counterparts, the city watch, were equally depleted, many of their rank being dual members of both legion and watch. A wounded legionnaire made his way forward.

“General sir! Decanus Putriskus reporting for duty!” The man’s words slurred slightly, and he adjusted the bandage wrapped tightly around his head. “My…charges…are ready, if you are facing a pack of schoolboys. Now against the Mongols… well, they’ll do about as well as you expect, sir.” He turned around to face the roughly hundred citizen reservists.

“Alright you lot, straighten up and form ranks. Show some respect for the general here and look sharp!” The civilians shambled their way into lines. Regillus knew he would have to keep his orders simple. He spied volunteers with the look of street toughs, grey haired mustered out legionnaires, and young men, barely more than boys, all deemed ‘fit’ for service. How can these men hold out against trained, vicious killers? How can I ask this of them?

“Because if you do not, sir, we all will die anyways,” the closest excurbitor, Lamous Tuosokes, whispered to him. Regillus realized he must have spoken aloud. He gave a quick nod.

“Men, the time is dire. The Mongolians have breached the citadel walls and are even now crossing the moat. But they are devious and have decided to strike from the rear as well! You are the last line between your families and the enemy. Will you follow me?”

In response, Regillus received a deafening cheer of assent.

With no time to waste, Regillus led them to the north wall. Dividing his force in two, he positioned his least able bodied men atop the ramparts, alongside the scant handful of Syrians manning the artillery. At the water gate, Regillus positioned his demi-cohort, mostly made up of the retired legionnaires and youngest men. Some part of him hoped that the portcullis and wall defenses would stop the Mongols, but Regillus refused to hold out much optimism. So far, the easterners had surprised and outwitted him at every turn. This time, he would not be fooled so easily.