Pax Romana

Mistfit said:

I think the rest of us are awed in silence. Great job. I look forward to the continuing story.

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I agree with Misfit. I've been looking forward to these everyday. What more can we say to you Vanadorn this is GREAT stuff.

This story just keeps getting more amazing. (Either that, or the opium Mark Antony was subjected to is starting to seep out of the story and into our minds, but there's not much of a chance of that ) Keep it up V!

Wow! Awesome! I just read the first part it'll take a while to read the rest. This is long! Keep writing.

Wow! Thanks guys and to everyone who's been reading. I'm having a great time with this...so much so, that I've given real thought to picking up writing again when I finish. *shrug* Don't know, have to wait and see how I feel when this is done.

Should have another chapter finished tonight after work and when my daughter goes nighty-night. I've also been working on a project in my basement, and might want to spend some time on that as well. Either way, the ever climbing views and the kind words and support from you guys has made this into a very enjoyable endeavor.

Thanks again, and don't worry about too much praise, I can never get enoguh of it .

V

Vario clasped hands with Thius, Centurion of the 3rd Caesaraugusta Pike Men. “Bapedi’s all yours, Thius. Temple’s coming along fine, citizen arrests are at an all time low, and general peace has been established.” He saluted. “Take good care of our city.”

Thius saluted back, his face haggard, body sagging. “Thank you, Vario. First thing we’re gonna do is get some much needed R&R. The forced march up north and the trailblazing over the unfinished roads outside Utica, has sapped our strength a bit. But we’re here, so leapfrog out and go show those whoreson’s in Giza what law and order are all about.”

The Centurion grinned. Swinging his leg up, he mounted his steed and rode out the barracks to his column of men already drawn up. Scowling, he gave his columns of legionnaire a steady once over. “Alright. Listen up you gulley-dwelling scags! First, some announcements. As most of you turds know, we are leaving the garrison of Bapedi to our replacements, the 3rd Caesaraugustians. They’re a hardy bunch of sods, just a little green in regards to battle line conflict.” He grinned. “A subject the 4th Syracuse knows something about, right!”

“Yes, Centurion!” The brigade stood at rapt attention, their faces smiling, bodies tensed.

Nodding, he rode to the end of the column and turned right, riding along the flank. “We’re to head up to Giza. Us, the 3rd Lugdunum, and the 2nd Veii are going to help keep the peace over there. Now I know some of you smarter animals are thinking, ‘How can only three companies of soldiers help enforce Roman rule in a city of almost ¾ million Egyptian nationals?’” He paused, letting the thought circulate. “We won’t be alone. The mobile armies of the Knight Legions and Scipio’s Legionnaires, as well as two other companies of knights and three other companies of legions are going to help us out. Also, our eight trebuchets, and the one Egyptian model we captured, will be stationed in the city.”

He turned around, riding back to the front of the unit. “I want something perfect clear, you dense brained imbeciles. Make no mistake; most of the boys still able to stand in Giza are pretty banged up. Heard tell that more than three men in five fell during the siege.” He let that thought sink in. “So although the 4th Syracuse has seen our fair share of combat, I don’t want any of you giving any lip to the recovering soldiers we’re going to see. Do I make myself clear!?!?”

“Yes, Centurion!”

Vario nodded. “Good! Rome has committed itself to reinforcing these broken companies and armies as soon as god damn possible. Also, we’re approaching some of the local dissatisfied Egyptians in order to see if they are willing to embrace Rome and fill the ranks of its soldiery.”

Dismounting, he strode purposefully up to Omani. “Corporal!”

Saluting sharply, he replied, “Ay, Centurion.”

“We’re riding out this afternoon.” He drew a bronze decorated gladius from his horse’s saddlebags and handed it to the tall soldier. “I need an Optio, a second in command. You’re it. Congratulations.”

Omani appeared pole-axed, standing there, mouth agape, sword held in his nerveless grip. Vario grinned, unable to maintain a fierce expression on his face. “Well?!?! Acknowledge me, you Zeus scorned miserable excuse for a washer-woman’s wet dream!”

Snapping out of it, he roared back, “Ay, Centurion! Thank you, Centurion!”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, he spun him around, facing the 1,000 men of the 4th Syracuse Pike Men. “Ladies! This is Optio Omani! You will obey his orders as you would mine. Any one gives him any back talk, complaint, or guff, I’ll personally watch that soldier eat a half-pound of his own guts! Do you get me!?!?”

“Yes, Centurion!”

“Excellent.” Addressing Omani, he continued, “You have your orders. I want this raggedy band of bustling broken ball busters set to travel and packed to go before the marshal calls out 4:00.” Glancing sideways at the assembled men, he added, “You’re probably going to need a couple of Corporals to help you out. Make sure you pick one or two men who you can trust and will listen to your orders.” He picked out Minimus, his large, muscled form easy to spot in the neatly dressed lines of soldiery. “Even if he might be a huge ox-like misshapen lump of regurgitated whale vomit! At least you’ll know you can trust your back to him.” He nodded at the wide soldier, offering him a pinch of respect in doing so.

Remounting his steed, he called out, “That’s it, boys. You’ve got your orders. Diiiiiisss…MISSED!”

Good, good. Any farther expansion plans?

Pick up writing. This is writing. You could probably flesh this out a bit more and turn it into a book. Really enjoying it.

Vanadorn, you are an excellent writer. This has got to be one of the best stories here, and I check the topic daily.

Vanadorn said:

...Don't worry about too much praise, I can never get enough of it .

V

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Considering that we feel the same way about your chapters, if you keep giving one, we'll keep giving the other

Also, you're better than a lot of writers in one crucial respect, though some (none that I've seen, of course) might be better in others; you update this thing daily. Some, though also good storytellers, just keep us hanging for weeks (take Daftpanzer, for instance).

It is remarkable how you can describe something as mundane as repositioning troops in such detail as to make it so interesting!

Gushing and blushing. Thanks so much. Ego has been sufficiently stroked.

@Das: By this point, I was very stretched out, many core cities had 1 or 2 defenders in them. Was tight on cash. Most new troops were sent to the ever expanding front, so it's spearmen all the way throughout the heart of the empire. Just finished invention before the fall of Giza (Leo's and Archi's flight), and will be starting my own Leo's Workshop, hoping that the ever running war has slowed Cleo down from finishing hers. I need some time to build up much needd infrastucture. So a pause to expansion is in order.

@ Barb & Biggamer - you guys should be a professional pep rally squad. I do enjoy writing, forgot how much I enjoyed it. Life just seemed to fill in my free time and this stuff got put aside. Until lately that is. When I started this, I figured, "I'm going to be 34 in a few days (may 31st), and I still haven't finished a writing project bigger than a short story. If I don't try now, It'll only get harder." and here we are, voila.

@ Specialist: Yeah, I know what you mean. Some of the stories are pretty interesting to read, but they take so damn long to add to it. When you see the thread pop back on top you think, who-hoo, more story! But it's usually some guy complaining that there's nothing new, or someone new saying they like it alot, but where's the rest. I figure, if you're going to take the time to read my work, I should have enoguh courtesy to complete as much of it as I can. Otherwise, why start the thread?

@ Deleted: That's the point. To you and I, it's just moving units, or launching an attack, or picking a tech, or starting a building. This is CIV. As our history has shown us, the great sweeping effects of the world occurred at the minutia level, someone was actually living it day by day. That's what I'm trying to portray with this story, but still follow the game as it was/is played.

Daughter is asleep, it's 9:50 PM here now, and it's time to write. Next chapter very shortly. Thanks again to all.

V

EDIT: PS: Just checked. 81,000 words, 146 pages. Who would've known?

“Give me ‘nother hit would ya, Marrick?”

The Utica pike man tilted his leather flask into Kellum’s mug, the thick liquid steaming slightly in the crisp autumn air. “That’s it, Kellum.” He stopped after only a dollop. “Mars’ Nuts! You know you drink a lot?”

Kellum frowned at his small portion. “Ah, wot da ya know? Ya just as bad as t’at battle axe I married, ya know t’at?” Tilting his head back, he drank his draught quickly, smacking his lips as the sharp beverage tingled against his lips and warmed his belly. “I’m a man, dammit! I’m entitled to ‘ave a drink or two if’n I want it! I mean, Zeus’ Bunghole! I volunteered fo’ this watch!”

Marrick waved his hand, trying to calm the acrid pike man. “Whatever, whatever. Don’t wanna pick a fight or be your son. Just wanna know that you’ll be able to watch my back if need be and that you won’t be slobber knockered if I need you.”

“Bah! Don’ worry ‘bout me none.”

“Hey! Speaking of sons, how soon before your wife gives birth?”

Kellum grinned. “I can’t wait. Li’l tyke’s kickin’ awfully hard. It’s been ‘bout 8 months or so so far, so could be any day.” He puffed out his chest. “Yessirie, always wanted a kid. Been waitin’ long time for it.”

“I’m glad for you, Kellum. You deserve some happiness…especially since what happened to…you know.” Marrick trailed off, uncomfortable to talk about Kellum’s wife being raped last year. The look on Kellum’s face assured the embarrassed soldier that the topic was indeed not for discussion. He rapidly changed the subject. “Hey, didja hear the latest news from Giza? They’ve caught another band of resisters, call themselves the Egyptian People’s Front. Gonna string up the leaders and add another row of crosses to put them on. What’s that, four…five nationalist groups so far?”

“Ya. ‘eard ‘bout it. T’ere sayin’ that t’ere almost at the last group o’ yello’ rapists.” He angrily spit over the low wall. “String ‘em all up, I say! Do like we did back in our great grand pappy’s day to the Carthage scum an’ kill every other one o’ them rotten dog pukes!”

Marrick shrugged. “Can’t say if that’s right. But whatever they’re doing, I hear tell that by next spring, the city’ll be fully integrated with Rome.”

“Bah! I’ll believe it when I…” Kellum stopped, staring past his companion’s shoulder to the eastern hills. Coming over the rise was a column of riders. “Wot the ‘ell? Get a load o’ this.”

Their steeds were a mix of tans and browns, long of limb and sleeker than Roman customary warhorses. Barding of leather, decorated with feathers, furs, and tails bounced across the horses’ backs. The riders were clad in boiled leather cuirass, brown and black, with tinges of a pinkish color, reminiscent of dried blood, highlighting their clothes. They sported huge spears, also festooned with tufts of fur and hide, each one some 12’ in length with large wooden cross guards near the hilts. They lay across their mount’s backs, legs tucked tight against the flanks, the wind whipping passed them as they flew faster than anything any Roman had ever seen move before. The forested rises disgorged dozens and hundreds of these fast moving cavalry, and their numbers showed no sign of slackening.

“Oh…crap.”

Kellum slapped Marrick across the back. “Ya durned gaw-eyed loon! We’re under attack!” He ran for the alarm bell, ringing the clapper back and forth until the notes sounded as one continuous tolling. “ALARM! ALARM! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!!!”

“What the hell are they? Egyptians?!?!”

Kellum squinted, surprised to see the invading cavalry already approaching the base of Utica hill. “No! They a’int no ‘gyptians, I tell you t’at!”

Marrick watched with morbid fascination as the riders came closer, their numbers already over a thousand and still growing. “Well they sure as hell ain’t Zulus!!”

The walled city of Utica woke from their early morning slumber with a start. Doors were thrown wide and shutters were drawn closed. Men filled the streets rapidly, racing for their positions on and around the walls, donning their leather and chain armor, grabbing their spears, bows, and pikes. From Baron Leofsig Uticus’ keep, the elite guards had already mounted up, numbering fifty of the Baron’s personal knights and squires. They charged down Main Street, racing for the Eastern Gate with all speed.

“I don’ know wot they are. But they be ‘ttackin’ this city, so they must be working wit’ that Zombie Whore Queen, Cleopatra!” He paused. “Zeus strike me blind! There are so many o’ them!”

The gates were slammed closed, the bars set and braces laid in. Centurion Halthastius came out of the barracks, berating the rest of the pike men on his way out, spurring them into position. Racing past them, he ran up the dozen plus steps to the battlements and peered out at the gathering throng. “What in Tarterus?…Who the hell?…Ah, DAMMIT!!” he pounded the parapet with a mailed fist. “It’s the god damned Arabs!”

“Sir, Centurion, sir?” Kellum asked, “Who in bloody arsed ‘ell are the Arabs?!?”

Halthastius blew loudly through clenched lips. “Report came some weeks ago that the scuzzy Egyptians joined in some alliance with the people that live past the Zulu nation. Called the Arabs. Dammit! They were not supposed to be able to launch an attack until the god damned spring!” He punched the wall again. “How the hell did they get here so damned fast?!?” Shaking his head, he turned to both men. “You two,” they snapped to attention, “I want every person with a bow on this wall firing arrows into every one of those galloping horsemen. I want everyone else with a pike, spear, or even a fire-sharpened stick, drawn into ranks and lined up below. I want it done now! Hop to it!”

Kellum and Marrick ran down the steps, taking the last three in a single bound. As they charged toward the main square, they gathered attackers gave forth a ululating howl. Thousands of screaming men bellowed out their war cry, chilling the blood of every Roman inside Utica’s defenses. And then the doors shook. Shook violently.

“Archers!” Centurion Halthastius cried. “I want archers up here now!” The great doors shook again. And again, and again, and again. Kellum slapped Marrick’s shoulder and nodded farewell, running into the massive barracks and training camp.

“Archers and bowmen to th’ walls!” he cried, trying to rally the men still found there. “Come on! Come on! Centurion wan’s every archer out on th’ damned blasted wall!”

From outside, he heard a horrible cracking sound, followed a moment later by the Arab war cry ringing out once again. Some Roman defender yelled out in a frantic voice, “Sweet merciful crap! They’ve broken through! They’ve broken through! The gates are open!” A moment later, Halthastius’ baritone rang out. “Draw lines! Set pikes! Come on, set pikes! Left flank, hold…Hold! Reinforcements! We need reinforcements! Left flank! HOLD!!!” The crash of men and horses carried wildly through the streets of Utica.

The populous panicked. Men, women and children began running for the western and northern gates. The streets became clogged with the mad press of hysterical bodies. This slowed down the much-needed reinforcing troops that were trying to make the Eastern Gates.

Kellum paused in his race for more defenders. Sucking breath wildly through panting lungs, he turned from his mad dash towards the southern armory, back to the living quarters by the training grounds. Here, the families of the men serving in the Utica armed forces, were already packing to leave. Kellum ran past the still calm mob to his own house. Throwing the door wide, he startled his pregnant wife who had already thrown some of their meager belongings into a blanket.

“Kellum! What are you doing here?!”

“Listen t’ me ya silly woman!” He grabbed her by the shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes. “I wan’ ya gone and git from th’ city! Ya hide yerself deep in th’ hills and then ya’ make for Syracuse. Don’ stop, don’t look back. Jus’ go!”

“Kellum! What is it? Is it that bad?” Fright crept into her eyes, but her face remained firm and strong.

“It’s bad, woman. Real bad.”

She gripped his hand, pulling him toward the door. “Then come with me. Come on!”

“I can’t! I’ve got my duty!”

“To Hell with your duty, you crazy coot! You have a child on the way. That takes precedent, dammit!”

“Don’ tell me wots wot, ya rotten battle axe!” He pushed the door open, pointing at the other families racing for the city exit. “Wot if every one o’ them damned ‘usbands decided to give up an’ go run off wit’ t’ere families? Huh? Ya ever t’ink o’ t’at? Who’d stop these bastards then?” In the distance the sounds of battle were growing, and columns of smoke were attesting to the fact that the city was now burning as well. Cupping his wife’s tear streaked face, Kellum laid his forehead against hers. “I know I ain’t much fer sayin’ it, woman…I love ya. I’ve always loved ya.” Tears were rolling down his own cheeks now, mingling with hers as her held her sobbing form. “Just promise me t’at you’ll get away and grow our child up strong an’ good. Promise me t’at.”

“O, Kellum.” She struggled to get the words out between the racking waves of grief. “I…I promise. B-b-but you have to promise me…you’ll try…try harder than anything you’ve ever done…t-t-to stay alive and come b-b-back to me.”

Unable to see clearly through the tears, Kellum nodded. “I promise, wife.” Laying his hand on her belly, he kissed it tenderly. “I promise. Now go. Go!” He shoved her out the door and into the running mass of citizens as they tried to stay ahead of the maraudering army.

“KELLUM!” She cried out, trying to watch her husband as the crowd carried her to dubious safety.

“WIFE!” He called back.

“I LOVE YOU!!” The both yelled in unison, the unfamiliar words for both of them bringing a sense of peace to their heart as the Arab attack drove them apart. When he could no longer see her, Kellum grabbed his pike and charged back to his unit at the Eastern Gate.

Rounding the corner, he stopped, surprised and stunned beyond belief. The eastern gate was a mass of crackling flames, the walls and barbicans had been torn down with ropes, grapples, and horses. The fires were spreading unchecked throughout the city. Hundreds of Romans lay dead in the streets, both soldiers and plebeians alike. Everywhere he looked, Arab looters were torching buildings, trashing homes, and slaughtering people.

He could see no sign of organized resistance anywhere near the now ruined gates. Dimly he heard sounds of combat further west. Turning, he ran in that direction, pleased to hear some of his countrymen were still fighting, dismayed to hear that they had been pushed back so far into the city. As he passed avenue and road, he saw dozens and scores more dead Romans along the way. But only men. No women. No children. A chill washed over his skin. “Slaves.” He muttered, scowling hard as he ran closer to the fighting. “Th’ damned Arabs are takin’ slaves!” He could only think of his wife, hoping against hope that she would get clear of the city in time.

Past Tinsmiths Lane, near the butchers’ quarter, Kellum finally saw the welcome signs of red clad pike men as they held the northern corner. He raced up the street. Reaching the main bulk of the defenders he was surprised to see less that a hundred soldiers holding the line. “Wot the…Eh! W’ere is everyone else?!” He shouldered his way into the 2nd, and rear most line, setting his pike and staring around wildly.

“This is it!” The soldier to his left replied. He had a hollow look to his face as he watched the Arab riders form up into lines for another charge. “Centurion Halthastius died after they broke through the gate. Baron Leofsig was mowed down during a counter charge near Baker’s Square. Optio Jranium we lost after they set flame to Zeus’ temple.”

“Shut up!” another soldier yelled out. “Keep focused, men! We’ve got to hold them here!”

“Where’s th’ gut slimy reinforcements?!” Kellum swore, looking westward for the sign of any Romans coming this way.

“We are the reinforcements! There’s no one else!”

The Arabs gave their eerie war cry once more, spurring their mounts hard at the Roman position. “Here they come! Hold the line, boys! Utica!”

“UTICA!!” The cry burst from Kellum’s lips, along with the remnants of the Roman defenses. Almost impossibly fast, the Arab cavalry struck the line. The long spears skipped past the pike men’s, striking red armored forms at the same time that rigid pikes and pole arms tore into the mounted troops as well.

With surreal fascination Kellum watched the soldier he was talking to a moment ago die as an Arab lance blew through his armored chest. His own pike bent as it lodged into a horse’s shoulder, stopping the trooper’s charge and flinging him from the saddle. Drawing his short sword, he plunged the pointed end into the fallen rider’s throat, killing him. A blow staggered him, ringing against his plated shoulder. Whirling, he slapped the thrusting spear from striking him again and dashed in, slicing the Arab’s cheek open from ear to lip.

The remaining Romans tried to hold back the massing invaders, but the pikes failed and they were forced to use knife and sword. Kellum stepped in again, his own blade leading the way when a solid blow punched into his side, tearing through his kidneys. Looking down, the long end of a spear was driven into his body. His legs buckled and the cobbled ground came up to meet him. Coughing, he tried to get his body to raise, but the spear held him flat long enough for another warrior to strike the fading Roman across the temple with a knobby mace. The sky turned white and Kellum felt empty.

And then he felt nothing. His death prevented him from watching the rest of Utica’s citizenry butchered, its buildings torched, and the city razed. His death prevented him from seeing over 2,000 women and children rounded up and sent back under escort to Arabia.

His death prevented him from seeing one of those enslaved Uticans was his wife and his unborn child.

You're writing faster than I can read! ( Not that I'm complaning)

Vanadorn Posts Again! Hurray!

So, will Kellum's son become a Mameluke? That'd be a nice character...

Do you have enough soldiers nearby to take back the city?

Livia shut the door slowly. Her son, Commodus, tried to push through. “Let me through, mother. I’m the heir apparent. If it concerns Rome, it concerns me. You have no right to keep me out.”

Caesar’s wife gave her eldest son a hard stare, her matronly influence still more than enough to cow the 30-year-old prince. “Petulant child!” She scolded. “If your father wants you, he’ll send for you. Now stay out. Make yourself useful and go play with your nephews, surely your sister can use a break.” She made a shooing motion, pushing her son away again, and close the chamber door.

Lord Caesar sat in the dim light of the fireplace. The great map behind him was marked with a number of pins, strings, and markers. Around the great king, papers were strewn about. His left hand cradled a crystal goblet, filled with some red wine. Across from Caesar, Castellan Constantine sat perfectly still, his gaze locked on the saddened king and friend.

“Marcus?” Livia called, walking softly to her troubled husband’s side. She laid her aged hand on his stooped shoulder. “I’m here.”

Caesar turned his gaze slowly upward, staring blankly at his wife. Absently, he patted her hand. “Thank you dear.” Gripping her smallest finger, he swung her around so she was in front of him. “Please, Livia. Have a seat.” He glanced back and forth between his wife and his friend. “It’s a cold winter this year.”

“Marcus,” Constantine began, “what did you want to talk to us about?”

The great Roman pushed himself back in his chair, bracing his body hard against the fabric cover padding. “Prospero’s returned from the site of the attack on Utica.” He stopped talking, just sat there, looking blankly at the opposite wall.

“And?” Livia asked.

“It’s not there anymore.”

Constantine frowned. “What do you mean? The keep? The defenses?

“No.” Caesar seemed to have a hard time focusing, he was blinking rapidly. “The city of Utica is not there anymore.” He locked his gaze first on the castellan and then his wife. “They burned every building to the ground and killed or enslaved every citizen that lived there. The. City. Has. Been. Destroyed.”

Livia turned pale and Constantine dropped his own goblet. “But…but…why…” he seemed unable to find the words to express his horror at this news.

“Great merciful Juno, Marcus, no!” Livia lost control and began crying gently, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Caesar shook his head. “That’s it. We can’t fight a war on two fronts. Our forces would be divided and then it’s over. Plus there has been growing resentment towards the conflict with Egypt anyway. This latest blow has shattered the peace of Rome. I’ve had dukes, earls, and barons write frantically for the need of more troops to keep the peace. There have been riots springing up everywhere. All the great projects and buildings throughout the empire have suffered from some sort of loss and vandalism. The populous has made it abundantly clear; they no longer want a war.” He paused, trying to work out the thoughts as they spilled from him. “I no longer want a war. I didn’t want a conflict to go on this long. Our people and Egypt’s people deserve better.”

“Marcus, I heard from Tiberius that Cleopatra signed some alliance with the Arabian forces to jointly attack us.” Constantine righted his fallen goblet, trying to find some thread in the news that he could somehow gain some comfort from. “I don’t think she’d be so quick to talk with us about peace.”

Caesar smiled slightly, only the corners of his lips turning up. “She has been trying to talk to me ever since we took Byblos. The loss of Giza I’m sure has affected her people just more strongly than the loss of Utica has affected ours. This alliance with the Arabs is just a way to tip her hand.” He shook his head. “No, we will sue for peace.”

He pushed himself to his feet, striding carefully to the great map. “We’ll do this now, before the Arabs have chosen another Roman city to attack. Once peace has been established, I want the northern border with Egypt stripped. I’ll move every available unit with combat experience and a full roster of men south with the spring thaw and bolster the cities most likely threatened by another attack; Pompeii, Caesaraugusta, Sabratha.”

He turned back, “Constantine,” he said, “I want the libraries in Leptus Magna and Virconium stopped. Make sure the Lords there know that I want them devoting their energies to training a new set of knights as soon as possible.” He laughed. “Knights! Ha!”

“What, husband?”

Caesar sat back in his chair, his face twisted into a sardonic grin, teeth bared. “Just thinking. Remember the Incans that were here last year? We traded many things but two items of interest to them were our chivalric codes and our armor plans?”

Livia nodded, “Yes. What does that have to do with this?”

“According to Prospero, the Arab warriors that attacked and sacked Utica were armored in a similar fashion, although with less metal, to our own knights. That and the fact that their tactics were as good as some of our newest companies.” He shook his head. “The Incans traded the knowledge to the Arabian people. And know we are facing our own forces. Forces that have attacked and destroyed one of our cities and massacred our people.” He took another long drink. “Because of a decision I made. This whole thing is my fault.”

Constantine placed a comforting hand of his king’s leg. “It’s not your fault, Marcus.”

“If not mine, then whose?” He closed his eyes, his tired face appearing closer to 60 than the 50 that he was. “I am the King. I am Rome. If not me…then whose fault lays the blame?” He lay back further. “Please see to it my wishes are carried out. I want peace with Cleopatra as soon as possible. Have Tiberius take care of the details.” He grabbed his wife’s hand once more. “Livia, please have Latham bring me another port and a blanket. I fear there’ll be no sleep for me tonight.”

Constantine rose, bowing low to his friend. “Rome could have no king or ruler greater than yourself.” Rising, he walked out, followed closely by Livia.

“All he wanted was for Rome to be great and her citizen’s happy,” she said, her face still tear stained and flushed.

Constantine held her hand briefly. “Unfortunately, to get peace and happiness, we sometimes have to march through war.” Leaving Caesar’s wife, the castellan moved swiftly through the palace halls, seeking Senator Tiberius to pass on Caesar’s wishes to him.

Trading weapons technology to the AI is a dangerous game. How did the Ansar Warriors do? I'm thinking of playing a game as the Arabs, since having that kind of knight seems really fun.

@ Biggamer - They did very well. Fast (3 move) - so they came out of the dimmed area and struck my city hard. Like any of those types of units, they rule on the attack, but not so good on the defense (only a 2). But at a time when most everything is 1 move or 2 if lucky, they certainly rule the board. It's my fault, didn't expect an alliance against me. Hell, I hadn't met them for most of the game to this point, "what beef wit' da Romans?"

So, they sacked a city (Utica - didn't want to kill off Kellum, I liked the hick!) and I have spearmen and the odd pike in the area. There are 3 cities threatened and no reinforcements for a bit. Gotta move fast.

Thanks for reading. More in a day or two.

V

Just wanted to add my voice to your chorus of admirers, Vanadorn.

It's taken me a month to get this far, but it's been worth it! Can't wait for the screenies! Awesome story! Hit those Ansar Warriors hard!