Guido the Strong
While his cousin ruled from the towers of Verona or the harbors of Ravenna, living off his explots and issuing orders that affect hundreds of thousands, he is but the closest relative to the devious rular of Polaterra. While he can't get his head around the minor concessions unspoken in a treaty or the infliction of a rebellious Governor, in hind sight that probably kept him alive. What he can do, however, is to sap as much prime men out of a city as possible, train them in Trier until they are raw, march them hundreds of miles with minimal losses and keep them holding the ground against the Celts. Although the upper class dislikes Rondo's devious eyes when he travels through the realm, it is the pleading eyes of the lower classes that pierce him when he and his recruiting agents fall upon the city. "So easy to forget" he pondered, "The sacrifice to keep them safe." At the end of a campaign, he lets all his recruits a leave, and at the end of ten years, they can return home with all the loot from the squad quartermaster they can carry. Volunteers can leave after three seasons and levies stay for just one, plugging a hole until the next round of recruiters fall upon another city.
He looks north from his northern fortress of Trier. Unlike his brother in Verona, he can actually see the small city states of the celts to the distance. Their belltowers and large communal fires for ceremonies lit the sky on certain 'Holy-days'. The trees block the paths, but every week another horde marches closer to his borders. Every spring his army must march out, to fight battle after battle during the summer, and perhaps gain a few years peace from a city they've captured, only to return in the fall and recruit again in the winter. They just didn't have enough troops to cover the plains, the settlers to hold the cities, and the engineers to take the pass. What they can do is to block the pass with bodies until the country behind them is strong enough to attack inf full force. He lived a decade like this, master of a overrated tower-called citadel town, taker of young men from designated cities, and leader of men, some willing, others simply more frightened of him than the Celts further ahead. Days that are so same, but so different, passed though his eyes as he kept his virgil on the towers of Trier.
Until one day. He was looking north again, watchful for the tell-tale flocks flying as another Celtic army passes a town to the tolling of bells. "Greetings, cousin." spoke a voice behind him. It was smooth and rich, but the cold undercurrents made him shiver, even though he stood firm in battle after battle. He turned to see Rondo the Sly behind him. It has been a decade since he was crowned General of the Pass, and a decade since they met. While Rondo became rotund despite his late nights and excersice, to Rondo, Guildo simply became tougher, ageing in the battles of the pass.
"You have an assignment for me"
"Very observant, you must remember to keep your head in war and let me do the politics." said Rondo with a wink. "Yes, and I can't blame you. Every time I meet you it was to give you a new assignment: To conquer Trier, Mantua, or another city."
"To be chief of the Pass, to be your shield while you secure your country" said Guildo.
"It is your country too," said Rondo "And I belive you wish for your new assignment"
"More war?"
"Indeed, and more recruits. I have behind me a large horde of levies armed and trained with spears, as well as my Guardsmen and a fleet of warships. Do what you will with them"
"The objective?"
"Take the pass you are chief of, cover the land with the dead, and claim it for Polaterra."