South the Mason IC Page.

[Versail]

South the Mason War. War never changes. When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, forming tribes. As decades passed, these villages and tribes began to grow. Some united with others, forming greater nations. Some conquered others, creating vast empires built on a foundation of blood and slaves. These nations would fight, just as the men of the old world did. In this cauldron of fire and war, nations would rise and fall, with only a few rising above the others to form great Empires. Now is your time. For after decades of war, you and your nation stand alive and well over the corpses of the dead nations. Shall you conquer your neighbors, or band together with them against outside nations. Shall you dominate the land, or protect your Neutrality. It's up to you, but no matter what, war shall go on. For War, never changes."

[Routcher]

Memphis, New Egypt

The Grand Vizier and his colleagues gathered in the temple chambers just before the worship ceremony was too begin. You could hear, from another room, the priests practicing their instruments, playing "Born Under A Bad Sign" over and over until they were pleased with the sound levels and other equipment checks.

If it wasn't for bad luck,

Cotton King, the Grand Vizier began, "gentlemen, greetings to you on behalf of the god-king, Atem Sudi. I am pleased you could make it," he said to the group of high priests gathered before him, "and let us discuss business."
The High Priests present represented the nobles below them, and come from the areas of Jackson, Jonesboro, Oxford, and Tupelo.
The one from Tupelo began, "the people of Tupelo, being the newest addition to the kingdom, are presenting some trouble. Many are not filling out the census forms and others are not paying taxes at all. These people are ungrateful for the mercy we showed them by only enslaving one in ten of them last year. It would be wise for the Venerable One to show them what happens when they try us."
Cotton replied, "Very well, I shall let the Pharaoh know of this difficult situation. Next?" He asked, looking to the other priests.
The one from Jackson spoke up, "If one were to travel along the 40 Road towards Nashville always, they would find the Tennessee River. This river would get us access to many eastern waterways and settlements, as well as connecting to the New Nile, making all of this theoretical new trade insanely easy. I think the God-King will be most pleased with the results if he were to command settlers to set up just across the Tennessee River along the 40 Road, to a place called 'Cuba Landing'. That is the perfect place to begin an operation."
"Very wise indeed," Cotton said, nodding and stroking his chin, "I will take great care to tell His Lordship of this place. And of course, I will ensure you reap some of the reward."
The priest grinned, before falling back in line.

I'd have no luck at all

"Next," Cotton said.
This time, the priest from Jonesboro was next, "Grand Vizier, please inform the Pharaoh that we are ready once more for a slaver expedition. This time, we have outlined three potential prime targets, although we'd only be able to hit one before the others prepared and would make attacking them too risky. First, there is Hardy. We haven't hit Hardy in years, and our scouts show that they have gotten lax in their security. I would take a day to reach them and prepare for the assault, and about a day to return with cargo."
He went on, "Second, is Heber Springs, by Greers Ferry Lake to the west. This settlement has plenty of loot, and a decent population. To pick from. However, the God-King might want to wait to attack with a real army so he could just take this prime land for himself."
"Finally," he concluded, "there is Paragold. We go after them often, but their close proximity means even a small haul can be profitable."

Cotton thought for a moment before speaking, "It seems as if Hardy is the ideal target. I will advise the God-King of all options, of course, but I will push for Hardy. Thank you. Next."
Finally, the high priest from Oxford spoke, "All I ask is that the Son of Horus grant the University additional money, as well as donating any medical equipment and robotics not needed by our warriors for us to study. We are making real progress in our study of radiation, and additional money and especially RadX or RadAway would help become closer to making it ourselves. Which, while not as exciting as slaving and expanding, will greatly benefit a kingdom situated on radioactive waterways."
Cotton stroked his goatee before nodding in agreement, "Thank you for bringing this request to us. The money should not be a problem, but the equipment and robotics might be a tough sell. Still, I am on your side in this."
"Thank you, Grand Vizier," the priest bowed.
Cotton spoke loudly, to be heard over the band in the other room, "If there is nothing else, I will report to the Son of Horus immediately, and after this ceremony you will return to your settlements. Go in peace, my friends."
The high priests bowed before exiting the meeting room. as the door opened, the room filled with the smell of Peace Leaves and other drugs, which were legal during ceremonies like this, but rarely any other time (except Psycho was legal for warriors to use in battle and Peace Leaves were always legal).

An hour later, the Grand Vizier met with the god-king himself, Atem Sudi. He arrived in the glamorous palace and, after being allowed in by the jackal-masked warriors know as "The Sentinels", Cotton King bowed before his living god, who was seated on a throne adored with gold, surrounded by beautiful maidens and incense.
"Grand Vizier, you may rise," Sudi said just before placing an olive into his mouth.
cotton stood up, "Thank you, my lord," he went on, "As you know, I met with the High Priests today. Each has a matter to bring to your attention."
The king rolled his eyes, "what else is new?"
Cotton chuckled slightly, before quickly going on, "I think you'll find these issues important, for a change. The people of Tupelo are not paying tribute, nor are they filing the census. If not corrected, this could have serious ramifications."
The Pharaoh leaded forward, "That certainly is important. It would be foolish to show them anymore mercy than I have already. I will order General Wolf to take his men there and show them the Fury of Heaven."
"Very well, sire," Cotton said, "but do try to leave a town left to govern. It would be wasteful to spend so many resources capturing a town and then burning it before we could get a return on the investment."
the king had a stern look that pierced the soul of the Grand Vizier, "I know what I am doing."
"Of course, my lord, forgive me." Cotton swallowed.

The High Priest of Jonesboro is ready to name targets for a slaver raid. He has identified Hardy as the ideal target, although there are less profitable options.."
"just do what you think is best there, slavery is everyday business as far as I am concerned," Sudi said.
"Indeed, but one of his targets is so rich, it might just be worthy of a full conquest. Heber Springs..."
"Ah, very wise, I know of that place. I visited it as a boy. I would love to build a second palace along the lake there. Launch the raid on Hardy, but I will begin organizing a campaign for Heber Springs soon."
"Yes, my lord," Cotton continued, "Next is the University, which would like additional funds and equipment to research radiation, to begin producing RadAway and RadX."
"I have the money, but our men need the chems. Surely, they can use the money to procure the chems themselves?"
"My thought exactly, my king," Cotton nodded in agreement, "Finally, the High Priest of Jackson brought to my attention the benefits of settling along the Tennessee River."
"There is benefit, but the cost of establishing a post would be great," Sudi said.
"While true, their scouts found a pre-war marina just off of the 40 Road. all that would be needed is to send the men and some basic supplies, there are already buildings and boats there. And, it gets us closer to Nashville."
Very well," the king approved, "organize the party. I want men in those boats by sundown tomorrow."
"It will be done, my lord, that is all I have for you."

Cotton left the palace, and returned to his home along the river, a large temple to Ra.

Soon after, the slaver party was sent the Hardy. A settler caravan was sent to Cuba Landing, and money was sent to Oxford. the King met with his Generals. Prince Sudi, the brother of the Pharaoh, was the General of the Army North, 5,000 men based in Jonesboro. He was tasked with organizing a force to attack Heber Springs, with a deadline of two weeks to be prepared. General Wolf was in charge of the Army South, 5,000 men based in Oxford. He was ordered to immediately muster a force to attack Tupelo and show them the Wrath of Heaven. This attack will be covered next time.

Attention Free State of New Orleans
A river barge carrying maize, followed by a boat carrying two motor-chariots has arrived in Baton Rouge. Aboard was also an emissary, who with your consent, would live in either Baton Rouge or New Orleans and act as an ambassador for the kingdom. If he is permitted to live among you, he will inform you that the two motor-chariots are a gift, but more can be traded for or purchased if you desire, and the maize is offered in exchange for sugar.

Attention Admin
A river barge carrying maize, followed by a boat carrying two motor-chariots has arrived in Saint Louis. Aboard was also an emissary, who with your consent, would live in Saint Louis and act as an ambassador for the kingdom. If he is permitted to live there, he will inform the Kingdom of Missouri & Illinois that the two motor-chariots are a gift, but more can be traded for or purchased if they desire, and the maize is offered in exchange for fruit, wine, or anything else of value they wish to give.

[New Dionastan]

The Mothman known as Keel hangs from his perch, on the border forest between West Virginia and Colombia. His agent, Freeman, approaches.

"M'lord, I have your reports from the local village. Capon Bridge is another farming town, mostly civilians, and a small garrison. However the bridge itself could be hard to take. There is however a significant slave population from these two plantations here," points to marked locations on a crudely drawn map "and from what I can tell they would be receptive to the True Faith."

"You have done well. Send a runner back to the Junction, and we'll wait here for further orders on what to do with this town." He nods, and heads off to complete his orders.

[The Traansval]

Hattiesburg, Borderlands of the Free State’s Florida Territories

The barricades surrounded the town, a mix of wood and scrap metal that had been built and then built upon over the decades. Most settlements had one, a wall to act as basic protection, both to keep out the enemy and to fool the inhabitants that they were safe. Upon its hodgepodge ramparts stood Hattiesburg’s Defenders, some wore armor some wore clothes, some carried rifles and some carried pistols. A mix of the local police and armed citizenry, united to defend the town against attack.

Colonel Charles Gravier lowered the binoculars from his eyes, having taken in the defenses of the town in full. Hattiesburg was a town of a couple thousand inhabitants, which in the wasteland made it a settlement of importance. It sat along the old Interstate 49, a caravan route going directly from New Orleans to Meridian via the rebuilt Ridgeway Blvd. Bridge. Hattiesburg had been levying taxes on caravans passing through, which deeply upset the Silverswords Caravan Company which operated the New Orleans-Meridian-Birmingham route. Free State officials had tried all the usual tricks; bribes to local officials were rejected and even resulted in a couple conviction, a temporary embargo was placed by re-rerouting caravans but this just resulted in the Silverswords losing money and Hattiesburg getting supplied from the North, and finally agents hired from Wilsons Rangers were used to collect blackmail on the mayor, however he simply committed suicide and was replaced in an election.

With all options exhausted, the Commission decided on the last option they had to leverage power over Hattiesburg; to conquer it. One of III Corps battalions was assigned, and the Florida Territorial Congress decided to allocated 3,000 of their Gendarmes to support. Baton Rouge also supplied a Precinct of around 1,200 men and Polk Parish supplied a company of around 450 men. General De Grasse, commander of III Corp, appointed one of his staff, Colonel Gravier, to oversee the coalition force.

Now, with close to six thousand men under his command, Gravier looked down upon the city he was tasked with conquering. The city had rejected his call for surrender, and now both sides were prepped and ready for battle. Cavalry Scouts had skirmishes with them earlier and estimated their strength to be no more than a thousand, mostly made up of those men able to pick up a gun. Gravier realized that this would not be a battle, it was to be a slaughter.

“Get those guns into positions!” Shouted one of Graviers staff officers. Gravier had consolidated the heavy weapons sections under his battalion into an ad hoc formation, giving him close to twelve 81mm mortars and eight 20 pounder field guns together in a battery. The firesupport sections had been kept with and dispersed among their original companies; Gravier was counting on overwhelming firepower to win the battle quickly. Currently, his coalition forces were sitting in foxholes and quickly dug shallow trenches, the grass still green and fresh but matted and in some places covered by a pile of dirt. The sun was high in the sky, giving off a heat that made one wish for a nuclear winter. The Colonel looked to his left at the Batteries being set up, and decided upon a course of action.

Gravier nudged his horses flank and casually turned it towards the batteries. His steed trotted up to the guns, where officers and squad leaders were issuing orders and getting the guns ready to fire. Gravier stopped next to his staff officer overseeing the whole process, causing the officer to look up and nod to his CO.

With a leather gloved finger, Gravier pointed towards the walls of the town. “I want fire focused on that, not on the town, we want that left intact boys. Just get those mortars firing behind the walls, fuck up their staging areas or supply areas, and have the 20 pounders blow holes in the walls.”

The artillerymen nodded and set about the Colonels wishes. Gravier watched them as they worked, then set his eyes upon the enemy position. “Sir! Guns sighted and ready” shouted a young Captain, obviously the CO for the ad hoc unit. Gravier nodded and lifted his hand in a tacit call for them to ready themselves. The men hunched over their mortars, or plugged their ears while standing a few feet back from their 20 pounders. Gravier quickly lowered his hand in a sharp movement, and all at once the guns opened up. HE shells rushed towards the walls, smashing into them with explosive power. Mortar rounds fell and sent shrapnel in all directions behind their lines. Quickly the crews got to work, a quick swab of the mortar barrel and a unscrewing of the 20 pounders breach and all of a sudden new shells were loaded. A sound barrage fired, more explosions, more destruction, more death.

Holes were forming in the walls, entire sections collapsed, and exposed behind were men and material being run and moved, like exposing a radroach nest by removing the drywall. The Brownings opened up with their fire, tracer rounds included mostly to intimidate the enemy, showing what looked almost like laser beams of machine gun fire cutting down the enemy who didn’t hide behind his wall. Each twenty pounder had been issued twenty shells, usually they’d include more with the brahmin train but here Gravier had expected that twenty would be enough, and he was correct. When the last shell was fired, the wall had huge gaps in it, fires burned and craters now dotted the dark green grass. It was now, while the mortars still fired, that Gravier looked to his right, towards the man standing with a series of flags, and it was now that the colonel raised the bright green flag clipped to his saddle. Immediately the semaphore messenger began to hit out a message; Attack.

The Brownings and Mortars continued their attack to cover the men as they now moved from their positions. There were several hundred meters between their lines and the enemy’s own, and so at first they advanced as a steady pace. The Florida Gendarmes advanced as companies or platoons, spread out in a loosely organized line. The Baton Rouge Gendarmes, armed with Battle Rifles, had advanced in clumps, not too much cohesive organization but they were spread out along the front and so had the support of the others. The Security Forces platoons formed themselves into an odd wedge like formation, only the wedge was not even and looked more staggered. The Polk Parish Gendarmes advanced as individuals or groups of two or three, natural skirmishing tactics.

As they closed in, they soon came within range of firing, and within range of the enemy's arms. The first shots sent each formation into different positions; Florida Gendarmes fixed bayonets, more a figure of speech since most of their arms didn’t have bayonet lugs, and began to charge forward. Behind them were the Baton Rouge Gendarmes, who were advancing from cover to cover, firing on the enemy. The Security Forces put their doctrine of Fire and Move to work, their AR teams setting up and firing, providing cover for the rest of the men to advance, moving from cover to cover with the same tactic. The Polk Parish Gendarmes had stopped a hundred meters back and were picking off enemy officers or key targets with their accurate rifles, some even with scopes.

The Florida Gendarmes reached the enemy wall first, having lost quite a few of their number in the charge. With pistols, shotguns, and knives, they battled the defenders in close quarters bitter fighting. Behind them came the Baton Rouge Gendarmes, all flooding through the holes and gaps in the wall. The Baton Rouge soldiers reinforced the Florida ones, joining them as they spread out, moving along the wall or into the city. Finally, the Security Forces came in, and they let the Gendarmes deal with the remaining defenders and instead focused on the town. They advanced rapidly through the town, Baton Rouge Gendarmes following them to secure prisoners, towards the town center. The streets, flanked by townhouses and shacks, were home to many a retreating militaman, many of which were more than happy to take a potshot at the SFs, who returned with bursts of AR fire, grenades, or rifle fire. Finally the road opened up onto the town center, surrounded by empty market stalls and finally a large pre-war building rebuilt into the town hall. A company of SFs stormed the building while the rest spread out to take full control of the town.

Gravier could see all of this from his vantage point, through his binoculars. The guns had gone silent but the air was still loud with gunfire and the sounds of warfare. Fighting on the city walls had all but largely ceased as most defenders were either dead, captured, or had retreated into the town. Gravier turned his binoculars towards the town hall again, only to see a platoon of SFs on it, the Free State flag flying from the flagpole, and a man held within their grasp. The man was dressed in a fine suit, although it now was covered in dirt and blood. It was the mayor, newly elected after the whole suicide fiasco. The officer of the platoon spoke to the mayor, who was clearly afraid and trembling, only being able to stand due to being held up. Finally the officer stopped speaking and motioned for one of his soldiers to come forward. Gravier could only see that the soldier held a noose in his hands once it was around the mayors neck, the other end tied to the flagpole. The officer said one more thing, and the mayor obviously cried out something, and then he was pushed off the roof, falling a few feet before the rope snapped taunt, snapping the mayors neck and killing him instantly.

With a sigh, Gravier lowered his binoculars and slid them into the holster on his saddle. He turned to his right, towards a Lieutenant in charge of the 7th Cavalry Scouts Platoon, one of the four under Graviers command. “Ride to Lumberville, they’ll have a working radio there hopefully. Send a message back to New Orleans, Hattiesburg is ours.” The Colonel ordered.

The Lieutenant nodded and turned his stead around, shouting for his platoon to follow him as he set about on a gallop south towards his objective. He would be the messenger to inform the Commission of yet another success on the road to New Orleanian hegemony.

---

Baton Rouge City, Parish of the same name

The barge was unexpected, nothing as large as it made regular travel along the mighty mississip. Mostly it was just the Sugarboats making trips carrying cargo south to New Orleans or north to foreign ports, and despite their name they carried more than sugar. Still, while unexpected, the barge was certainly welcomed, particularly by merchants in Baton Rouge. The wealthiest and most powerful of which was Jean-Baptiste Donatien de Vimeur, otherwise known as Jean-Baptiste, head of the De Vimeur family which had a Union mandate over the buying and selling of Maize in Baton Rouge and anywhere north of it along the Mississippi. De Vimeur had of course known of the Egyptians, he did most of his business with them, but their unusually system meant that he had to pay more for Egyptian maize than he would for New Paris maize, despite having a larger supply of it. If it wasn’t for his Union Mandate, he’d probably go out of business.

This move, however, meant a great deal to him. Not only was it a large supply of Maize that he could sell, it also meant that New Egypt wanted better relations, would could mean a trade deal, one that would benefit him most of all…

Jean-Baptiste leveraged his mandate to become the head of the greeting party for the New Egyptians, a party which included a couple local Parish magistrates and a representative of New Orleans. Jean-Baptiste welcomed the envoys, thanking them for their gifts and then treating them to all the fineries of the Free State at his personal villa on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. The Ambassador and his companions were treated to the finest Rum and spirits along with a dinner of fresh Brahmin steak, potatoes, and other fresh foods grown in New Paris and shipped to Baton Rouge.

During this dinner, Jean-Baptisite would approach the Ambassador, and casually mention how a deal whereby New Egypt would lift tariffs on goods sold to New Orleanians and give Favored Nation Status to the Free State in Trade, in return for similar actions on the Free States part, would be most beneficial for both nations, as New Egypt would have cheaper access to the manufactured goods and plentiful commercial items of New Orleans, ranging from Chems to Slaves to Guns, and New Orleans would have access to the plentiful Maize of the Egyptian fields. Just a thought, you know, something to bring up as a side matter at the next meeting.

The next day, the New Egyptian ambassador and his entourage were treated to the sight of the Baton Rouge train station and taken on a ride along the line down to New Orleans, where they were to be given an embassy in the French Quarter.

[The Manticoran Empire]

Washington D.C.
Capitol of the Republic of Columbia
January 21st, 2293

Cornelius Severance sat in the Oval Office, staring out the window at the South Lawn. To look at the building now, it would be difficult to believe that it had been almost completely destroyed in the Great Fire. A strange name for a strange event, but an accurate one. Cornelius had never liked calling it "The Great War". All the accounts he'd ever heard described no fighting. No battles. Just fire and death. But in any event, be it a Great War or a Great Fire, the White House had been almost totally destroyed and had lain vacant for almost 20 years. It had taken the infant Republic another decade to rebuild the city, not to its full pre-war splendor, but to a habitable nature. It had been expanded and improved upon as the Republic expanded and now at least somewhat resembled the old photographs that had been found over the decades.

Behind Cornelius, Minister of War Jason Adams sat alongside Vice President Raymond Johnson and the heads of the Army and the Navy. Adams cleared his throat and said, "Mister President, this is a serious concern. Harford County has spent the last two weeks bombarding my office with telegrams and their representatives have petitioned myself and my subordinates with demands that we deal with those mutants across the river."
Cornelius chuckled. "Really, Jason. You, of all people, should know why we cannot march. It is the dead of winter. We simply cannot march until the spring and they know that. Besides, there are well over 20,000 soldiers in Havre de Grace and a set of narrow bridges. Any attempt by the Mutants to cross will end in the decimation of the mutant attackers. Tell them to worry not. When the spring comes, the Mutants will be dealt with."

[The Manticoran Empire]

Annapolis Naval Base
Annapolis, Maryland
Republic of Columbia
1 February 2293

The Columbian Frigate St. Mary sat at her berth alongside two other First Class Frigates, the Queen Anne and the Hampshire. The crews of the three ships in Cruising Squadron One totaled 1,350 men and 150 guns and they were currently locked in port by ice on the Severn River and it would be March before they could sail. Even with a full month before they could sail, the crews still had a lot of preparation to do. The three ships were scheduled to sail for Norfolk at the head of a group of 16 Paddle Steamers that would carry the 3rd Legion of the 1st Division to Norfolk, with the aim of securing the Norfolk Naval Base. The rest of the 1st Division, as well as the Fourth Corps, would march down I-95 to reach Richmond before sending additional manpower to reinforce the 3rd Legion in Norfolk. In order to facilitate that, ammunition had to be gathered, food stored, coal put in the bunkers, and the crews needed to be drilled.

But it wasn't the logistics that were the most complicated. The distance between Norfolk and the Republic meant that there was no reconnaissance on it. The Hampton Roads Metropolitan Area was believed to have over 920,000 people living around it. If it came down to a fight, Norfolk alone would have over 30,000 men able to defend it. With just 6,200 men, the Republican Army was going to be at a significant disadvantage, which was why three Second Class ships were being sent. Artillery was going to be the key to this battle, if it came down to it. The Republic would demand their surrender, first. But if Norfolk chose to fight, it would be an arduous battle.

[Routcher]

Hardy, Arkansas

Hardy, a settlement of 193 people, was conveniently situated on some Ozark highways, as well as the Spring River. While the river was too out of the way for New Egyptian forces to arrive by boat, it did present the town with opportunities for trade with other settlements as well as agriculture. It had been years since slavers had come in the name of the God-King and taken people from here, and recent scouting had reported that security had gone lax. In their success and wealth, they had grown lazy. It was a mercy, then, for the Pharaoh to take these people and mold them into hard working slaves.

Late at night, the slavers, dressed as normal travelers, arrived from the east along Highway 412. There were 30 of them, and when asked about their business, they simply stated that they were refugees fleeing Egypt and heading towards Missouri for safety. This didn't raise much suspicion, as such refugees pass through Hardy often. The slavers lived among the town for three days, learning their habits, scoping out their security, and locating weapons and supplies, while also looking for easy prey. On the third night, the slavers split into smaller groups, sneaking into houses and other areas and placing slave collars around various sleeping targets. Guards were dispatched as they investigated any screams, and by the time anyone caught wind of what was happening, the party was already out of city limits. They were chased briefly by a mob, but superior firepower, combined with their use of vegetation to vanish and human shields when necessary meant they were able to pull off the raid. They walked away with 5 of their own being injured, and the following slaves: 2 children, 10 women, 20 men, for a total of 32 slaves. It would take a few days to return to Jonesboro, but there should not be many issues.


Cuba Landing, Tennessee

As instructed, a trading party from New Egypt, accompanied by a couple of marine scouts, traveled along the 40 Road towards Nashville, until they came to the mighty Tennessee River. They crossed carefully, as the bridges were of unknown quality. Once they got across, they found the place known as Cuba Landing, and saw that it was indeed perfect for a trade post and launch area for operations on the Tennessee River. Over the course of the next week, this place will be turned into a proper small settlement.


Tupelo, New Egypt
Originally a major settlement of 9,528 people before the Egyptians brought their gods and music to the land, Tupelo now has 4,764 people, as half were slain or enslaved in the conquest. Today, that was about to change once more. General Wolf, commander of the Army South with 5,000 men, had arrived on orders of the God-King, to show the unruly town the wrath of heaven. The Army arrived via the 22 Road, from the Northwest, stopping at the outer neighborhood of Belden, which was used as a small Army Outpost. Everyone else in Beldon was killed, and the district was turned into the operating base for the Army. Since guns were taken from the locals after the conquest last year and not many people have had time to re-arm, it was a simple operation. The Army was given exactly one hour to murder, rape, and pillage as they saw fit, and then return to Camp Belden. All children were to be captured and brought alive to Camp Belden.
the hour began with the loud motor-chariots racing into the city. Then the gunshots, then the screams. Soon after, the foot soldiers entered into buildings and carried out their evil deeds with impunity. by the end of the hour, 476 people were killed, mostly because the Army chose to focus on capturing slaves and destroying buildings over murder, as well as the fact that Tupelo was a big city and many had time to react and flee before the Army got to them. An additional 47 people were captured as slaves, not counting children, which only 3 were captured.

The Slaves were sent to Oxford for breaking, while broken-in slaves were sent to Tupelo for labor rebuilding and erecting a large obelisk in celebration of the conquest and 'taming of Tupelo, which made clear in writing that more would follow if the people did not begin paying tribute. The Army remained for another week before returning to Oxford, leaving behind a token force to ensure tribute was paid.

While it would be a long time before Tupelo would become profitable for the Pharaoh, at least now they knew the price of rebellion. The town is left with just 4,238 people.

Next time:
The Grand Vizier meets again with the High Priests
The Slaver Party Returns from Hardy
Prince Sudi finishes his preparation to invade Heber springs
Cuba Landing begins operation on the Tennessee River

Attention Free State of New Orleans
Impressed by the welcome party of Jean-Baptiste Donatien de Vimeur, the ambassador listened intently to what he had to say. After the dinner, he agreed with the proposal. Soon, word reached the Pharaoh, who also agreed, and a deal was made to lift tariffs on goods sold to New Orleanians and give Favored Nation Status to the Free State in Trade, in return for similar actions on the Free States part, would be most beneficial for both nations, as New Egypt would have cheaper access to the manufactured goods and plentiful commercial items of New Orleans, ranging from Chems to Slaves to Guns, and New Orleans would have access to the plentiful Maize of the Egyptian fields, as well as any other good made or traded in New Egypt. The deal goes into effect as soon as possible. The ambassador further reported that he enjoyed his stay in the French Quarter, but was eager to party with Jean-Baptiste again.

[Ralnis]

The Creator Moth Hive,
Underneath Cumberland Plateau

Among the immense cavern complexes of a park no one knows, underneath the rocks and the tripping of water is the faint sound of chittering, of wings flapping and skittering across walls. Deep in the source, tens of meters underground was a carved out hole with hundreds of large moths, each one a different breed of moth and bigger than ten super mutants. They all chitter and light up their antennas in a sense of communication, minds processing information between each other, each a synapse to the whole of the mutants, a finger and a neuron of the greater whole which are they who call themselves Mothmen.

In the center of the giant moth swarm was a much, much bigger moth. This moth was as big as a house and a wingspan twice as long. It was of different colors all together, with four antennas that glowed in different colors and commanded them in silence and alien majesty. They listened like children would listen to a mother. The silence lasted for no more than five minutes as all the information to be process before it spoke in mind.

My Daughters, the color of winter continues to blanket the fur of the land. We have seen the scouts of our children to the heretical lands of Columbia and heard the news of the Mutant horde called 'Unity'. Such a trifle and fearful things these heretics and mutants are. The Creator spoke to them in a sweet, motherly tone with an air of elegance to it.

Mother, the Columbians are numerous, their manpower five times the size of our own. However, most are for defense and they wouldn't be active during the Snow Color. If we should strike during the time- One daughter spoke in a young tone, her voice was that of a young adult.

Strike? A small response to the Color would be more apt to say. Another one spoke, this time older and had a tone of wisdom to her speech as she continues, the manpower is mostly for defense. Homestead militias who rely on numbers and sharpshooting to hunt down raiders and rebel slaves. They wouldn't believe that some forest people would be so organized or advanced. This is proved by the scouting reports and lack of general knowledge of the Cult and the very capabilities that we have built in the mountains.

Hmm, the Creator Moth process the information given to her before speaking,The Columbians are in the very boundaries of the Cult beyond the Forest Line. A small winter campaign to probe their defensive line. Take a few border counties from them as a test. Liberate the slaves and spread our message to them. I do believe your Secret Sister already has plans for the small tests to the blackpowder legions.

Forward Nightwing Base 773-2121,
Within the George Washington Forest

A secret base within the trees of the forest. It was a small group but it enough to listen to reports of scouts that are sent beyond the Line and those that rely information back to the Cult. Night Priests and a couple of Mothmen work in an underground complex within the forest, its one of many that are hidden around the Cult and the Line. The underground complex is post-war with spartan necessities. It had a radio and computer for information relay back to the other bases and the Hive that trains the Night Priests and Nightkin.

A Night Priest was going over the communication that makes the decentralized network that the Mothmen use to communicate with. A single message was through them by the Silent Mother. The organization of the military was clear and the next message was the green light because of the winter campaign was ready.

Outside Capron Bridge,
Near Keel

A mixed regiment came to the Nightwing and his cadre. Most were Cultists and the rest were a detachment of his kind. They were silent as the night sky and light as the snowfall. The Cultists forces wore the forested camo with scopes on their Lee Enfield's, they were in a loose formation, hiding in the trees till the signal was given from their Nightwing masters. The common cultist was a coscript trained in situations that were benefited them in the night but and a attack was through the winter season.

The Nightwings had energy weapons on loose fatigues modified for their fur and wings. Energy weapons and fusion rounds slung around their back in bandoleers with attached to their persons. The only thing that signified the idea that a Mothman was even there was the different glowing eyes that indicated what breed they were and what hive they came from. None carried a pipboy on their wrist or the biometric glove on their clawed fingers since such treasured technology would never be needed only for scouting and they could only scavenged so much.

Among them was a regiment commander, a Mothmen Nightwing whose seen their fair share of battles of the Cult's slow expansion in the west and the collective efforts to keep the alien cult from making any further tracks into the western side. They kind had seen fighting in the Eternal Siege of Charleston that keeps the former state capital on constant alert of Cultists raids. The Mothmen shared its scarring with bullet wounds and a loss of a couple dozen eyes that would never be replaced but it was skilled leader for this campaign.

It walked to the scout and his cadre and spoke telepathically.

Brother Keel, the Commander spoke via telepathy in a male voice that commanded attention,the Silent Mother has sent us as a vanguard unit for the taking of the village and the county. You will assist us in taking this and liberating the slaves. We need your wings in the first attack to bring down the standing garrison and the conscripts will clean up the miltia.

Are you ready for this?

[NewLakotah]

Background: Caesar of the East

---

Nova Roma. The Eternal City, reborn. For the Augustine Dynasty, the former city of El Paso was to be the new centre of the world. Positioned to ensure their expansions East and West. Now Nova Roma was the centre of the burgeoning empire, that had continually expanding eastward, growing from virtual city-state into a sprawling empire. Much of this due to the successor of the great Augustine, his son, Constantine.

The Augustinian dynasty was a brand new one, as far as dynasties go, with only two members thus far being named Imperator Augustus of the Roman Empire. However, the power that they have managed to seize in such a short time in impressive in almost any regard. From the dawn of Caesar Augustine’s Legion to now, the Empire of the Romans has only grown, not only in size but also in wealth and power. Augustine had organized the Empire in the manner of authority of the old Legion, updated to reflect the changes of Faith and the settling down into a new form of Imperial authority brought about by the conquest of El Paso and the Texico monarchy.

The Texico Monarchy had been an ancient one, dating back to the earliest of tribes that formed in the aftermath of the War. Their number and technology had been supported by the Vaulters of El Paso who had come up to join the Kingdom and help it grow, battling the roving nomadic raider tribes and the Republican states of Midland ad Odessa. Texico was an extremely feudalistic society, with power vested into the local tribal and distant ruling classes so much that infighting between various noble families was almost as common as fighting external enemies.

Texico was run by the long reigning Thompson Dynasty, who had taken control of Texico from the founding dynasty, the Hernandez Dynasty in 2188. For nearly 100 years, the Thompsons had ruled with waning authority, trust and respect, but managed to maintain their authority mostly through the support of the Vaulter Class who were benefiting financially and militarily by the arrangements between them and the Thompson family, not to mention, who were also very interlinked by marriage and family. Between the political instability and the threats from the east, the situation of El Paso was not as secure as the Thompson Dynasty thought. Especially when the attack came from the west.

Caesar Augustine had marched his Legion south, towards the city of El Paso, believing it ripe as a target and an important defensible location to hold, as well as a city worthy of holding the Legion as its base. It was also pushing further out of the range of Caesar of the West and Caesar’s Legion, ensuring any invasion from that side would be well out of range for him to make. His Legionaries and Foederati, the allied settlements that had joined his cause, were well-equipped and battle hardened from several years of war against the Legion in the West.

Meanwhile, the Texican Army was mostly out of position, with most of them far to the border regions to the East, and the only remaining guards and fortifications were in large part designed to defend from an attack from the east. Nonetheless, the city was still a well-fortified and well protected city by battle hardened and well-trained soldiers who outnumbered the Legionaries.

Upon his arrival, Augustine at first camped around the edges of the Texico territory, setting up his camp and defenses while scoping out the military, politics and society that he was facing. However, upon seeing a large number of what was called “The Eastern Legion”, the people of El Paso soon went into a panic and rallied as many of their soldiers as they could to launch a night attack to eliminate the threat before the Legion attacked them. However, Augustine’s soldiers were not tricked nor did they give into to the fear and confusion that the night attack brought. They formed into well organized Centurias, and fought as concise and promptly lead units, almost completely detached from the higher chain of command. The attackers suffered heavy casualties and were soon forced back, however Augustine was not about to let up the advantage. Knowing that at least a large portion of the city’s defense was now outside the gate, it seemed as the perfect time to launch his counter attack directly at the city.

Following the retreating Texicans closely, the Legionaries quickly overwhelmed the rear guard at the city and within a few hours, the city had all but fallen, with the only exception being the Royal Guards who continued to fight and protect the family of the King who at that time was out of the city at the time. Seeing this as an opportunity, he sent an emissary to the family of the King, which included the King’s Mother, the Queen consort and their youngest daughter, and asked them to surrender and thus would be spared. With their Royal Guards running low on both ammunition and men, the Queen had no other option, except face certain death, than to surrender.

Upon their surrender Augustine had the Royal Guard disarmed, their weapons confiscated and the Royal Family placed back under house arrest in the “royal palace”. By this time, the King of Texico, King Robert I, had heard the news of the city’s fall and had turned his own field army, which considerably outnumbered Augustine’s own Legionaries by about 4 to 1, and was now marching back on the city. However, before they could arrive a messenger from Augustine arrived and delivered the message that the Kings family was alive and well, and held as prisoners of war in house arrest. Facing the potential execution of virtually his entire family line, the Texican King was backed into a corner. This was worsened when several of the noble families turned on the King, seeing this as an opportunity to overthrow the weak and long-dominant Thompson family. The two major noble families were the Simpson and the Ramirez were the major leading families that turned on the Thompson Monarchy. Both were middling powers, with small but wealthy fiefs and commanding of decently sized levies.

These armies joined with the Legionaries under the promise of gaining power and position in the new Legion government in El Paso. Augustine, knowing he would need allies outside of the Thompson’s he held as hostages, agreed. What followed was a short series of battles waged mostly between the allied Foederati and the Thompson loyalists over key economic and military localities, while the King himself was in talks with Augustine. Eventually, there was no option for him and he rode into El Paso and surrendered himself and renounced his titles before Augustine and his family. The Thompsons, of course, would remain a threat. Not only were they former kings and queens of an independent kingdom, they still commanded a lot of loyalty, and held the largest levies of any of the noble classes. Simply killing them would only cause these to riot and cause more civil war. However, simply letting the Thompsons return to their ancestral lands just outside of would only be ensuring the possibility of an uprising at some point down the line.

To prevent this, Augustine allowed for the Thompsons to return to their old lands, however, he kept the oldest son, the heir, and the youngest daughter, who had already been held in the capital as hostage and in house arrest, both as wards, the oldest would return to inherit the position and titles of the lands upon the death of his father, the youngest daughter would be raised as an adopted daughter of the Augustine family, in the tradition of ancient Rome. This ensured that two of the important members of the future for the Thomson family would be held as virtual hostages and raised in the traditions and identity of the Roman one, not the old ways. They would be raised and taught in the Roman Catholic Faith, and hold all the ideals of them. And, if the Thompsons rose an army to fight Augustine and the Romans, they would virtually be signing their own children’s death warrants.

To the Ramirez and Simpson families, Augustine granted them major positions, as well as granting them the citizenship of the Legion, Roman citizenship, an important title that allowed them into the inner circle of power. Not only that, both families were granted high ranking titles, with both being granting titles of Consul, and positions within the Roman senate, as well as gaining massive growth to their wealth and the prime points of land.

With the conquest of El Paso, the position of the Legion transformed. Legal positions took hold, and the idea of running a nation and not just an army grew more important. The Eastern Legion transformed into a real Empire, the Roman Empire. the Imperium Romanum.

---

Chapter One: Per fidem in Deum – Part One
“Great empires are not maintained by timidity.”
― Tacitus

---

Nova Roma (El Paso), Imperium Romanum

The city of El Paso was no more. In its place rested a new Eternal City, built over the ashes of the Old World. During the Reign of Kings, as the period before the Roman conquest is often called, the city had undergone a wide variety of changes, even before the Roman efforts. Immediately after the war, the city had been laid barren. What hadn’t been destroyed in the war laid in ruin and waste, prime targets for wastelanders and raiders. Small pockets of human civilization had rested in many small pockets above ground, however, many had fled to the city’s vaults, where they would remain for hundreds of years. These small settlements eked out small scattered safe zones, mostly in abandoned buildings and in the areas surrounding the city, as those places offered better ground for food production, mainly in subsistence farming and cattle ranching.

Between these pockets were the raiders. Between these small settlements and the raiders, an uneasy foothold of civilization had taken hold over the area that was once a booming city. This lifestyle soon changed with the arrival of a large group of settlers that had lived in the far outskirts of El Paso, where the effect of the bombs had been much more limited. These people were lead by a self-proclaimed King of the Hernandez name. They were much better equipped and managed to wrest away control from much of the independent communities that made up El Paso. These people formed what became known as the Texico Kingdom. These settlers soon forged a new take on the city, and began the early development of small-scale industrialization of the region. Small workshops and smiths soon sprang up as a new post-war economy emerged under the protection of the watchful eyes of the Royal Guards, who patrolled the city and set about eliminating or rehabilitating the raiders and tribals that roamed the areas.

After several years, the work of the royal treasury and its ministers soon saw fruit, as the city began to flourish more and more. When the first of the vaults opened up in the city, they were at first greeted coolly, however, both sides saw advantages of working together. When they did, the first of the golden age hit the city and the Kingdom. The industrialization of the workshops took hold under new and effective technological leadership of the vaults, and the ability and firepower of the Royal Army improved greatly. The city itself would continue to grow, and the area around it, settled more and more by wanderers and wealth-seekers alike grew the surrounding suburbs into a larger and larger network, setting apart the city from anything else in the southwest.

After the Conquest of El Paso and the rechristening of the city as Nova Roma, the new capital of the Roman Empire (Imperium Romanum as it is referred to by the Romans themselves), the character and shape of the city continue to grow. New developments across many parts of the city were done, this time in the Imperial style that fitted Augustine and later Constantine after Augustine’s death in combat some years on. Great emphasis on rebuilding and refurbishing the old churches and cathedrals was the trademark of the Augustinian Plan. The city was continued to be divided in the various municipal districts, referred to as “Quartiers”, and the newest developments soon took on a differing style than the old Royal ones. The Imperial style was built around the ideals of the Romano-Christian identity, with the idea that the society should form around the important religious centres and the major governmental systems. This formed the new Imperial Quartier, which was right next to the old Royal Quartier.

These two districts constituted the “core” of the city itself, the two most well developed and richest areas, as constituted by the number of businesses, traders and important government or religious institutions that made up the area. The areas around these two were known by various different names, however, as the distance grew from the core, the level of quality diminished, and the developments shrank, until reached the furthest most quartier of the city itself known as St. Crispin Quartier. This area, fittingly to its name, was home to many various peddlers, cobblers, tanners and other small individual shops and homes. Mostly made in the ruins of the old city, with very little modernized imperial development entering through.

---

St. Crispin’s Quartier

The area was alive with the sounds of the day’s business. The small workshops and the sounds of the craftsmen hard at work in the busy and congested streets. The area was always alive with people. St. Crispin’s Quartier was the furthest eastern edge of the Great City, and as such was one of the first entry points of merchants and traders, from domestic traders and farmers into the town to sell their goods, to the roaming traders who went from settlement to settlement and faction to faction to make their livings, and finally even to the international trade, from major states all around the Roman Empire; at least all of those that were willing to trade with the Romans. As such, it also played host to a large number of raucous bars and pubs, that lined the main throughway of the Empress Theodora Road.

The city itself had no fear from attack. At least not from any real threat. Most of the raiders were long gone, or destroyed, some assimilated. These raider bands were no match to the imperial might of the Roman Army, and the area around the city was arguably the safest from that threat. Nor was there any real threat from Super Mutants. Again, most of these were killed off or forced away, no matter their inclinations, whether they were violent or not, beyond the borders, mostly to the west, as the “Reds” and “Royalists” to the east were generally none to kind to the roving bands of killer super mutants either. However, St. Crispin’s was also the most dangerous of any of the city’s districts. The Municipal police were of fine quality, however, were centred, as were most things in the city, around the main core districts of the city, The Imperial and Royal Quartiers, and as such their reach was somewhat limited this far. Not to mention that this part of the city wasn’t always too keen to treat His Imperial Majesty’s Own constables with too much respect. Squalor and “unchristian” activities were common here, as well as in the neighboring quartier of Las Cruces.

Beyond St. Crispin’s laid the open road of Emperor’s Highway, and were dotted by small communities of suburbs that laid around the city, that mostly provided centers for many of the largest industries to settle into, leaving them all interconnected to the Imperial City by one means or another. These suburbs were independent of Nova Roma, and were apart of the larger region under the control of the noble family of the region, none other than the famed and powerful Simpson House. The current head of the House was Lady Maria Simpson, The Duchess El Paso. Her eldest son, the Lord Marshall Simpson held the position of Magister Officiorum, the highest civilian position within the Roman government outside of the Emperor.

The narrow battered streets of St. Crispin’s were abuzz with commerical and home life activity. The bottom floors were generally the cobblers and other workshop business fronts, while the upper floors were where the citizens lived. It was tight and, considering the positions in the core quartiers of the city, rather unsanitary, but still above standards considering the conditions of the wastes surrounding Roman territory and even some of the smaller townships of the Roman Empire. It was, after all, still Nova Roma.

---

Jessup Winchester stepped through the narrow alleyway towards the battered doorway of a small, seedy looking pub at the end of the street. A neon sign blinked weakly out the name “Caster’s Public House”. Winchester was a slightly hunched man of about 30. Small, rather gaunt, he was no imposing figure, especially considering some of the individuals surrounding him. He was dressed in what was generally the standard wear of those that wandered the wastes; tough battered boots, wide-brimmed hat, khaki-coloured jacket. He looked the part that he intended, that of a general travelling gunman. A gun-for-hire that was common in virtually every part of the desert wastes.

Winchester entered the pub casually, the loud raucous vibe of the pub undisturbed by his entrance. He glanced over at one of the side booths in the far corner. A quiet area, smoke glazing over his view. A hostess suddenly intercedes his view.

“Bar o’ table?” She asks through badly chipped and dirty teeth. Her lack of interest apparent even to the distracted Winchester.

“I’m over with ‘em.” Winchester responds, pointed over at a hunched over figure in the corner. The hostess turns and nods before shuffling off. Winchester glides smoothly through the crowded room, virtually every space of the room was filled with tables and chairs, and in practically every chair sat a person getting drunker and more crass by the second.

Winchester reached the table, sliding in opposite of the figure. The figure was Annabelle Hopkins, a woman of around 35. She was dressed to fit in with the rest of the people in the pub, but clearly was suited for a different sort of attire. She lacked the physical wear and tear on her features that all marked those from the quartier or wastes.

“Well, ya picked a nice spot, haven’t you?” Hopkins said smugly as Winchester took his seat. Winchester smiled back.

“What, figured you could use a break from all that bureaucratic nonsense. Getta taste of the real world.”

“Certainly is cosy, Jessup. Now, how’s life for the Reds?”

“Same old, nothin’ outta the ordinary. The army ain’t doing much, still patrolin’ and watchin’ the border, as always. Word is the Royals might be on the move at some point or other, whether its facin’ the Reds or hell, us, I dunno.”

Hopkins nods and leans in closer a bit more. “Thanks. We don’t have to worry to much about the Royals, we’re working on making a longer term arrangement with them at some point. They might be barbarians, but at least they’re not commies.” She pauses and leans in further, talking quieter now, Winchester leans in as well. “Legate Lucas has already issued several call ups, quiet-like, but call ups none the less to the Comitatenses. Foederatis are also on the move east, supposed to be some of the Palatini moving with them.”

Winchester nods, understanding what was happening. “What’s the wait?”

“The Royals. Can’t march off to war if they would pounce. As such, we might be sending out an envoy to them. Lucius wants me. And I want to, to act as an adviser on the trip. Nobody understands the Royals, or hell, even the Reds, as much as you do. At least, not anybody I would trust.”

Winchester smiles. “I’ll drink to that.”

---

Imperial Quartier

The sun bore down unceasingly on the well paved clean streets of the Imperial district. The area was marked by signs of the wealth of the Empire. The large Imperial Palace, which headquartered most of the Imperial offices stood out as a well maintained and cleaned building. IT was quite new. One of the Constantinian reforms done to the Empire and especially to the city. His emphasis had been on improving the city one district at a time, and what better place to start then the beating heart of the city.

Augustine had occupied the old university campus as the main centre of his Palace, and Constantine had grown that, but had also established some of the area for the use of the private college for higher education, while the rest of the main higher education was conducted further down at the former medical school. This gave the area a wide sprawling and open feel, even for a city position. Many of the buildings were converted into offices where the Imperial ministry worked, and into living areas where they lived and were the nobility of the Imperial court also lived. Beyond the reaches of the campus, lay the rest of the Imperial Quartier. A small number of businesses and bankers held their business just down the street, massed together in a few of the large remaining buildings that lined the main street. However, the area was reserved more for ministerial positions, religious positions and higher class living, Beyond that laid other lesser government positions and a large number of quality family homes, where the wealthy and high class Romans lived. This turned itself into the Royal Quartier, where, in the old city hall, sat the Roman legislature, the Roman Senate and Conventus.

This area was clustered more heavily by commerical and business activity that the Imperial Quartier. Stocks, bonds, industries and merchants made their mark on the area, redeveloping it into a dream of any wasteland trader. The district was the financial and commerical district of the Empire, virtually all the wealth of the Empire was centred in and around El Paso, with various other municipalites acting as their own regional economic hubs. But there was no greater hub or center of commerce than Nova Roma.

---

Earl Deckard Gutierrez was one of the ones who had most benefited from this economic center. At the age of 46, Gutierrez was already an established wealthy man, despite coming from a not so wealthy background. His family had been of virtually no status before the Roman Conquest nearly 25 years earlier. His father had been a owner of a workshop of decent proportion in the city of El Paso. However, during the siege of El Paso, his father had been one of the ones who had allied himself on the side of the Simpson family, the family that had backed the Augustine dynasty with the most force. Deckard himself had joined in the Foederati allied with the Legionaries during the battles that raged for control the city and the region around it.

His father had been the real support. His leadership as a Captain saw combat, and during the stabilization period following, had supported arming of the Legionaries through his workshop, building weapons and funding of uniforms to the soldiers. His loyalty to both the Emperor and to the Simpson family had earned him much praise and respect for his loyalty and acumen. As such, he had managed to secure himself a solid position, allowing to expand his business into the industrial side during the Augustinian reforms.

Deckard himself had remained in the Foederati until he had gained Roman citizenship, thus granting him the opportunity to join the Comitatenses. He did so as a Lieutenant, and served during the expansion years, seeing combat against the Republicans and raiders alike. After some years he had reached the position of captain. Deckard had excelled in the capacity as a leader, mostly in his ability to engage with the local citizenry to gain valuable intelligence and networking. Because of this, he was often transferred from front to front, heading expeditions and creating spy networks across many of the small scattered settlements that dotted the Texan wastes.

Not long after this, with the winddown of offensive operations as the wastelands were secured by the army and the Republican forces yielded to the Emperor’s Legions, Gutierrez saw his military career winding down. He quickly sought a way out and found one. Serving in the Imperial civilian service Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His first years in the service he found himself treating with various bands of settlements along the western and northern fringes of the Empire’s borders. Working to gain their allegiance to the Emperor rather than to the expanding Communists, or “Reds” as they were generally called by the Romans. By the age of 39, he was appointed to the position of Legatum, the position of Ambassador in service to the Emperor.

Gutierrez moved quickly across the wide expanse of the campus towards the ministry office situated at the far southern edge of the Palace ground. The Palace was the former campus of UTEP, and as such was well isolated from the boom and bustle of the city, while retaining the use of many buildings for office and business work. Gutierrez by now was just started to gray in his rather disheveled black hair and beard. Short and not exactly endowed with good looks, Gutierrez seemed rather out of place amidst the glamour and fashion of the Imperial Court. He dressed more modestly too, preferring the business wear more often associated with businessmen in the Royal district than the bright and loose fashion of coats and, in many cases, robes, of the high Roman class.

Gutierrez entered the building, moving quickly past the security personnel and other ministry workers that milled about at work. His focus was solely on his objective ahead, which was no small objective. Today, the ministry would have the official meeting with the Magister Officiorum themselves, alongside other senior members of the Imperial service.

The meeting room was already full with the attendees as Gutierrez arrived. At the head of the table sat the Dux Lord Sir Marshall Simpson, the Magister Officiorum themselves. Flanking him on his left was the Consul of Nova Roma, Consul Elanor Ramirez, the Duchess Dell. The other attendees, Issac Monroe, the head of the Foreign Ministry, Gutierrez’s boss, and Scriba Claudia Octavia.

Gutierrez bowed deeply and cordially towards the seated Magister.

“Forgive me, Magister, if I am running late.” He said in a deep crackling voice.

Simpson nods formally in response, and points down at the table. “Please, have a seat, Legatum. We have not yet begun our meeting, as such you are not considered late.”

Gutierrez smiles and takes his seat. Consul Dell stirs in her seat as he does. “Well, shall we begin?”

“Certainly, Consul.” Monroe says. He leans forward, opening a folder containing several full pages of documents. “As you are all well aware, we face multiple threats on two fronts from two large, and very powerful nation. Secondly, we are faced with heathen immorality and repulsiveness of the northern Communist barbarians. Their threat against us is one of both life and death, and culture against culture. We simply cannot afford to keep status quo with them as the continue to grow stronger. As such, it is the opinion of the Emperor, supported by the Magister Militium, that military action should be taken to weaken, or if practicable, eliminate the barbarian threat from the north.

“However, before we could ever begin to muster the strength to march northwards, we must, not only have a plan, but also assurances. From The Royals. We might not be friendly, but we certainly must share a common enemy. As the Communist ideology classes just as strongly with them as it does us.”

Simpson clears his threat, and Monroe sits back, silent. “This is of upmost importance. Something that we the high ministry, and which holds the support of the Senatus, consider crucial to the safety and well being of the Empire. The Comitatenses have already began calling up, in small numbers, the necessary reserve forces to face into combat the Reds. Now, first, we need to ensure the support of the war is with the people. Consul Dell, I am sure can vouch for that.”

“Certainly, sir.” Dell replies calmly. “The Emperor can certainly count on the dependability of his nation’s armory and industry and the people to support the war.”

“The Emperor has, however, made it clear.” Simpson continues. “That there can be no offensive action, until a reasonable treaty is in effect with our Royalist neighbors. Now, this is where you, sir, come in.” Simpson gestures towards Gutierrez who nods in reply.
“Do we have intelligence of any moves within the Reds’ territory?”

“We’ve had operatives within the nation for some time, and across much of the northern plains. According to it, we have yet to see any major military move towards the front by the Reds or Royals towards us. However, we cannot simply take that for granted. The Reds are a fickle sort, their message of universal domination and “liberation” a clear threat to us.”

Gutierrez simply nods again as the room falls silent for a moment. Simpson leans in towards Gutierrez, raising his finger up at him.
“I have no doubts in your abilities, Legatum. We can have an official word from the Emperor outlining what he would consider acceptable from the Royals.”

Gutierrez nods and smiles. “Yes, Magister. Thank you, I can work on arranging my diplomatic team as soon as possible. I can depart as soon as I receive His Imperial Majesty’s letter.”

[The Manticoran Empire]

March 2293
Annapolis Naval Base
Annapolis, Columbia
St. Mary, Queen Anne, and Hampshire set sail, leading a group of 6 enormous troopships on a 17 hour journey to the mouth of the James River. Almost 36,000 men, a far larger force than initially proposed, would be landing at Bay Tree Point on the northern end of the Newport News Peninsula. From there, the force would move south to Newport News, where they would face at least 22,500 opposing militia. It would take several hours for the troops to land, meaning that they would have to make camp at the beach. The following morning would start with a nearly 4 hour march, which would end in what would probably be an all day battle.

17 hours later, the troops were beginning their landings, with 7,200 men landing at a time. It would take five trips, each lasting upwards of half an hour, before the full force was offloaded and that included hauling the artillery and the horses for the officers and the cavalry. The troopships would then return to Annapolis to bring additional supplies, as the troops only had the supplies they could carry, which amounted to ten days of rations and 120 rounds of ammunition. Each artillery piece had their caisson with 50 rounds. Supply wagons had been brought but they would need to be assembled and supplies loaded, which would take a day and a half to get. By the time supplies had arrived, it was expected that Newport News would have been captured. A second Corps, marching from Fredericksburg, had also begun its own four day march along Route 17. They would rendezvous with the Corps from Annapolis in Newport News before seizing the rest of the Hampton Roads area. Once Hampton Roads was secured, they could use it as a supply base before advancing into the rest of the state.

[The Manticoran Empire]

The Battle of Seaford

---

Seaford
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
2 March 2293

General Paul Verdan’s Corps was still gathering itself when the cavalry was dispatched. The 412 cavalrymen of the 1st Legion of Greene’s Division advanced toward Seaford, along Seaford Road. Around 9:00 AM, at a fork between Seaford and Back Creek Roads, the cavalry spotted a strange sight. 218 soldiers stood in a loose formation right in the middle of the fork. They flew no banners and they seemed uncomfortable in their current position. They were armed with what appeared to be breech loaders but they didn’t have individual rounds on bandoliers or cartridge boxes. Rather, they had several pouches that probably carried the ammunition. Major Kevin Willoughby, commanding the force of cavalry, sent a group of riders to bring some of the other cavalry units to support. In the meantime, he had the rest of the troops form up a thousand yards from the Seaford defenders. Then they charged.
The charge only took them 90 seconds to complete and they were under fire for 40 seconds of them. 24 men were killed or wounded and, typically, so were their horses. And then they reached locals. 388 charging cavalrymen running into a loose formation of men was a brutal event. In less than a minute, nearly one hundred men had become casualties, most of them quickly dead as they were trampled by horses. The others panicked and fled, being run down and slaughtered to the last man.
It was a short engagement, with 218 casualties among Seaford’s defenders and 37 casualties among Willoughby’s cavalry. As the battle ended, the rest of General Greene’s cavalry, some 824 additional horsemen, arrived. They joined Willoughby’s 375 survivors in killing any wounded Seaford folk left on the field before continuing on around noon.

The Battle of Newport News

---

Seaford
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
3 March 2293

It was still dark as the troops were roused from their beds at five o’clock that morning. They collapsed their tents, folded their bedding, and collected their full kit. It took about 45 minutes, all together, for everyone to be ready to march. At 5:50 AM, the First Corps of the Republican Army started their march down Seaford Road. After 57 minutes, they were on Wolf Trap Road, marching south. Another 40 minutes and they reached Route 17, with a straight shot to Newport News. Another two hours went by as the force continued its march. The sun was rising over the ocean and the troops were bathed in a soft, warm, red-orange glow as it did.
After four hours on the march, the Republican Army had reached Interstate 64. It was almost 10:00 in the morning by this point and they had not yet engaged the enemy.

Much of the city had been torn down to build new buildings. Most of the buildings in the new Norfolk were East of Route 60, which kept them closer to the river, where fishing was better. There were plenty of farms where the rest of the city had once been, with many of the pre-war forests having been torn down to make room for these farms. The settlement was walled, which was fairly standard for settlements in the wasteland, and there didn’t appear to be much artillery. The wall followed the old Route 60, until it reached Route 258 and then came down Briarfield Road and then back up 16th Street, known thanks to cavalry scouting the previous day. The northern end of the wall was Blount Point Road.

With the reports from the cavalry in, General Paul Verdan, commander of the First Corps, stood on his horse and turned to his subordinates. “Gentlemen, we are going to mass our artillery on this road here, the old Jefferson Avenue, moving south, all to concentrate their fire on that wall yonder. However, I do not want to engage in violence if we don’t have too. Captain Clarke, you will go forward under a white flag to request the city’s surrender. General Greene, I want you to set up your division on the left of this avenue, the old Morris Boulevard that leads to the wall. General Allen, set your division on the right, heading south. We shall array ourselves in front of them, so that they may see what they are up against. Captain Clarke, you will inform them, with my compliments, that I require the surrender of this town and that I would prefer it be done without bloodshed. Inform them that I am willing to negotiate terms for their surrender and that they can be assured that no harm will come to people or their property if the settlement surrenders. Are we clear on that?”
Captain Clarke saluted and said, “Yes, sir. You are willing to negotiate terms and no harm will come to the settlement if surrender is agreed.” Captain Clarke then rode off, placing a white handkerchief on his saber as he went towards the settlement. “Now that that is taken care of, General Greene and General Allen, you may deploy your divisions.” The two officers saluted and they, with their staffs rode away to carry out their orders. General Verdan looked to the walls, standing just over a mile from him, hoping to whatever God may exist that he wasn’t forced to battle this day.
A mile away, Captain Clarke stopped his horse before the gates of the settlement. Some thirty feet above him, a soldier poked his head over. “What do you want?” the soldier asked, sharply and with a hint of annoyance. “With the compliments of General Paul Verdan of the Republic of Columbia, the surrender of this settlement is required. The general is willing to negotiate the terms of surrender and assures you that no harm shall come to the inhabitants of this settlement, nor to their property, should the settlement surrender without a fight.” Captain Clarke stood on his horse, awaiting an answer. The soldier’s head disappeared for a few moments but returned. “I’m not authorized to open these gates to anyone other than inhabitants or recognized traders. I’m gonna have to ask up the chain about you but that may take a while. You go and tell that General of yours that he shouldn’t expect much. The mayor ain’t bowed to raiders and she sure as hell won’t bow to y’all.” Captain Clarke nodded, “Very well. I shall inform him.”

It took Clarke a few minutes to reach Verdan’s headquarters, established in a barn where a pre-war bank once stood. “General Verdan, I spoke with a member of the settlement’s guard. He informs me that the mayor of this settlement is unlikely to accept your offer but that it may take some time before we receive a definite answer.” Verdan looked at his staff and thought for a moment. “It could be that they are delaying long enough to gather their full strength. Captain Richards, when is St. Mary supposed to arrive in the James River?” Richards looked at a notepad and said, “General, she was supposed to have sailed at eight o’clock. With a favorable wind, she should be in the James River about now.” Verdan looked out towards the walls. He could see the three masts of the St. Mary flying her colors proudly about five miles distant. “Captain Clarke, return to the wall and inform the settlement that I am a man of patience but that the captain of the frigate sailing up the James River is not. Inform them that he has a ship of 50 guns and is known for his short temper.”
“Yes, sir. A frigate of 50 guns and a captain with little patience, yes, sir.”

A few minutes later and Captain Clarke again stood at the base of the walls. “With General Verdan’s compliments, sir. A frigate of 50 guns, the Saint Mary, is currently sailing up the James River. She carries 50 guns and her captain is an impatient man. He expects this settlement to have surrendered by twelve o’clock and, at present, it is almost eleven. As such, you have approximately one hour to agree to General Verdan’s request of surrender before Saint Mary opens fire. When Saint Mary fires, we shall as well. I shall await your reply.” Several minutes passed before a woman’s head leaned over the wall. “You tell that General Verdan that I will not bow to anyone who threatens this town. If you want a fight, we’ll give you a fight.”
“Very well, Madam.” With a tip of his hat, Captain Clarke rode away.

When he returned to General Verdan with the settlements reply, Verdan sat back in his chair, a folding chair which he brought for situations like this. “Very well. If they will not surrender, we must take the settlement by force. Order the artillery to commence their bombardment and send a rider back to Seaford. We shall be needing resupply, I should think. See to it that the first wagons to reach us contain ammunition and food.”

At exactly 11:17 AM, the guns fired. Solid iron bolts raced the 1.1 miles to the wall, tearing holes into it and knocking defenders off. At 11:19, the first broadside from St. Mary fired. The settlement responded at 11:20, with their first shots sailing over the entire line, exploding in enormous plumes of earth several hundred yards back. Verdan looked at his staff, “Well, at least we know they have artillery. Tell General Greene to begin his advance and to make it quick.”

General Greene’s division began its advance at 11:43 AM. Several soldiers carried grappling hooks with thick ropes that would be used to climb the walls, under the covering fire of other soldiers. Surprisingly, the artillery that the settlement had only fired sparingly and it didn’t appear to be targeting the infantry. In fact, the artillery didn’t seem to be firing on the artillery, even. 18 minutes into the advance, the infantry began to come under small arms fire from the walls. At 500 yards and with the fire coming sporadically, casualties were light initially. The casualties started to pick up as the force got closer but the continued firing of artillery meant that only a handful of rifles were firing at them. By the time the division reached the walls, out of 14,544 men, around 2,400 men were casualties. Now, the corporals, of whom 1,000 were still standing, rushed forward and hurled the grappling hooks up the wall. As the corporals attached their grappling hooks to the walls, the privates, some 9,650 in total, poured fire into the walls. A full minute of firing took place, putting almost 2,000 bullets into the defenders. And then half of the division was climbing up the walls while the other half kept firing. Another 700 men had been hit during that time and the fire was starting to die down as Greene’s division met the defenders in hand to hand combat on the walls.

General Verdan saw Greene’s division climbing the walls and instructed General Allen’s division to launch their own attack. The attack went in much the same way as Greene’s had, with over 3,000 casualties before they made it onto the walls. But once on the walls, Allen and Greene’s troops had the advantage. The defenders lacked bayonets and hand to hand combat training Furthermore, half the defenders had been pulled off the walls to go and fight off the St. Mary. Solidly outnumbered on the walls, the defenders were pushed off the walls. In the almost two hours since the attack had started, large holes had been made in the wall by cannon fire and hundreds of defenders lay dead, their blood soaking the causeway that they died defending. Hundreds of survivors fled from the walls, attempting to set up new defensive positions but it was too late. Greene’s division opened the gates and the cavalry swarmed in. The dragoons charged in, using their rifles, pistols, and sabers equally and with great skill. And, unlike the infantry, the Dragoons had suffered no casualties yet and they were fresh. With an extra 1,200 men in the attack, the troops began advancing through the town.

It was about 1:00 in the afternoon now and Verdan’s Corps had suffered some eight thousand casualties. The defenders, for their part, had lost about two thousand men on the wall during the climb and another 1,500 during the melee. Now, the 6,500 defenders were facing off against 22,324 attackers and the battle was going poorly. Despite more advanced weapons, the attackers were simply too few in numbers and lacked the experience against trained adversaries. With most of their fighting being against raiders, mutants, and ghouls, foes who were generally unable to breach the walls, it quickly became a bloodbath. The Columbians didn’t spare the civilians as they charged through the city. Men, women, and children were all shot or cut down. In a town of almost 90,000, almost 10,000 were slaughtered in the rout.

It was at the old Riverside Elementary School that the Newport News City Hall now stood. Or had stood, anyways. Holes had been torn into it by the St. Mary’s guns and even more holes were being added by small arms fire all the time. The mayor sat in her office, hiding under her desk to avoid shrapnel and shards of glass. She could hear the door on the main lobby explode as a shell hit it. A few minutes later, she heard voices below her. “Move it, men. This is city hall. That bitch has to be here somewhere. The Colonel was very specific. She ain’t to be harmed.” A few more minutes went by before she heard her door shatter into splinters when a soldier kicked it in. Several footsteps could be heard as a few soldiers walked in. Then, she heard a voice. “Miss Mayor, I am Colonel Maynard, commander of the 3rd Sub Legion of the First Legion. I am terribly sorry about the mess but I must insist that you get out from under your desk.” The mayor crawled out from under her desk and rose cautiously. “What do you want, Colonel?” she asked. Colonel Maynard smiled and said, “Your surrender.”

After nearly five hours of battle, Newport News had surrendered. 12,429 Columbians were killed, wounded, or missing and well over 20,000 defenders and civilians had been killed or wounded. A rider was sent back to Seaford with a message, stating that the battle had been won and including a casualty estimate. 2,113 men had been killed and another 9,570 had been wounded. 746 men were missing. Personnel were in the process of collecting the bodies for burial and equipment for redistribution. It would still be another three days before the Second Corps arrived but today had shown General Verdan something. Virginia would not be bought cheaply. Over a third of his force was casualties, meaning he would require replacements in substantial numbers. This would also mean that a much larger force would need to be raised to continue the campaign and he had included those insights in his message, to be relayed back to Army Headquarters in Annapolis.

His message was on the desk of the President four days later. The knowledge that Newport News had been captured was welcome but the casualties were indicative that more troops would indeed be required. The need for more troops would require calling up those able bodied men in the reserve, which would take a full three months to accomplish. All of this meant that First and Second Corps would have to secure Hampton Roads only with the troops they had, now only some 65,000 men, assuming Verdan’s estimate was correct on how many of his wounded would return to duty. More likely, considering the distance that Second Corps had to cross, a bit over 50,000 men would be what Verdan and Rogers, the commander of Second Corps, would have at their disposal.

Severance signed the order calling up the reserves within an hour of reading the message. The Navy cut orders for a dozen frigates to be detailed for the Hampton Roads campaign, including the St. Mary. Furthermore, five ships of the line would also be detailed to provide additional naval gunfire support for the campaign.

[The Manticoran Empire]

The Battle of Gloucester

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Gloucester
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
4 March 2293

General Rogers Corps had spent the last three days on the road and two hours this morning. With the sun just now peeking out overhead, the leading elements of General Samuel’s Division could see a force of defending soldiers arrayed before them. Over 2,000 in all, they represented the cream of Gloucester County.
The Virginians were formed along Main Street, cutting across Route 17. The First Legion of Samuel's Division, commanded by Legion General Henry Royce, formed up on a line a half mile up the road. The Legion's 48 guns were set up, loaded, and primed. Its 48 infantry companies formed into ranks, with 16 formed in a loose skirmish line.
It had been the Legion Cavalry, 412 men under Major Rupert Petraeus, who had made first contact at 7:00 that morning. Over the last hour and a half, they'd fought a light skirmish, suffering 78 casualties. In exchange, they inflicted 30 casualties on the Virginians.
By 8:30, the 16 skirmish companies had arrived and covered the cavalry as they withdrew. The skirmishers kept the fight up as the artillery opened fire. Over the next 12 minutes, another 97 locals were casualties, joined by 64 of the Columbians. By that point, the main force had arrived. The remaining skirmishers joined the main force, a total of 4,256 soldiers. On the other side of a 176 yard gap stood 1,925 men of the Gloucester County Guard. Some of them were busy hauling their wounded comrades to the rear. Most, about 1,900 in all, were formed into two offset lines, each man about 4 feet apart and with about a two foot distance between ranks. The front rank was kneeling, the second rank standing. Both ranks were shoving new clips into their rifles as the Columbian line halted and dressed.
It was 8:43 in the morning and the two lines stood, the Columbians rigidly at attention, their rifles shouldered while the Gloucester Guard were relaxed with their rifles at the ready. Bayonets on both sides gleamed in the low morning sun, a sun that glistened off the dew covered grass. Then the orders came. “MAKE READY!” The order was shouted down the line by officers and NCOs alike and the Columbians moved as one, their rifles coming off of their shoulders to the position of low ready, bayonets pointing towards the Virginians. “TAKE AIM!” This order, unlike the previous order, was shouted by both sides almost in unison. Both lines lifted their rifles to their shoulders, the Columbians full-cocking theirs. For a split second which seemed almost an eternity, the two lines stood, frozen and in complete silence. And then the order came.
“FIRE!”
6,156 rifles cracked as one, throwing lead across the gap. The Columbians fired 4,256 lead bullets, causing 57 casualties to the Virginians. The Virginians own 1,900 rounds claimed 25 Columbians. The Virginians fired 3 times in the 4 seconds in took the Columbians to reload and fire again. In that time, another 74 Columbians fell. Then the Columbians fired a second time. This volley had 4,157 bullets in it, bullets that claimed 55 Virginians. Another 3 Virginian volleys as the Columbians reloaded. Another 72 Columbian casualties. Another Columbian volley. Another 54 Virginian casualties. 3 Virginian volleys. 69 Columbian casualties. One Columbian volley, 53 Virginian casualties. On and on it went. In the first minute the Virginians fired 50 times and the Columbians fired 15. Each time, fewer bullets were fired and fewer men fell. At the end of the first minute, the casualties were just too great and the Virginians began to fall back. 1,063 Virginians were still on their feet, not including the 25 that had been helping wounded away when the shooting started. 3,299 Columbian riflemen, plus another 528 other Columbians, remained on the field. 1,056 Columbian infantry had become casualties, with 191 dead and 856 wounded. Meanwhile, 174 Virginians lay dead and another 863 were wounded. The earlier skirmish had also killed 14 Columbian cavalrymen and wounded 64. Total Columbian casualties were 205 dead and 920 wounded yet it was a Columbian victory. It had lasted less than two hours but it had killed 379 men and wounded 1,783 more. The commander of the Gloucester County Guard considered launching a counter attack after rallying his men behind the walls of Gloucester at Belroi Road but the rest of Samuel’s Division was arriving now and the Columbians were taking the wounded Virginians prisoner. Faced with such enormous odds and the fact that he now also faced a cavalry force that outnumbered his own infantry, the grizzled veteran of hundreds of battles with raiders, ghouls, and super mutants decided that, instead of seeing the city sacked, he would push the mayor to surrender. And if the mayor wouldn’t, he would.

At 10:15 AM, a single messenger approached General Samuel’s line. He held above his head a white handkerchief and was escorted by a group of 10 Privates and Corporal. The Corporal saluted smartly and said, “General Samuel, allow me to present Colonel Henry Sewell, Gloucester County Guard.” Samuel returned the Corporal’s salute and the man stood aside. “Well, Colonel Sewell, I hear that your men gave a good account of themselves on the field a couple hours ago. Legion General Royce speaks highly of their courage and discipline under fire and in the face of such odds.” Colonel Sewell only nodded. “Thank you, sir. We did that which we could. Alas, it was not enough and we heard tell what happened to Newport when your army there sacked it. I have no intention of seeing such slaughter in my county. As such, I humbly beseech you to accept the surrender of the Gloucester County Guard and, by extension, the County of Gloucester.” Samuel thought a moment. “Colonel, do you have any terms which you were hoping I would agree to?”
“Only that our wounded be treated and my men permitted to return home.” Samuel thought a moment more before he answered. “Very well, Colonel Sewell. I shall permit your men that are of able body to return to their homes and I shall see to it that your wounded receive what medical aide we can provide. However, I must stipulate that your men hand over their arms and ammunition, so that they may not harass us as we move on.” Now it was Sewell’s time to think. He thought a moment and straightened. “Very well, General Samuel. I agree to your terms. I shall assemble my men to hand over their arms and munitions at noon today.”

True to his word, Colonel Sewell assembled his surviving able troops, 1,088 in all, in a clearing just outside the walls. Before the war, it had been home to a Wal-Mart and Home Depot. Now, it was little more than a meadow. And it would be in this meadow that the Gloucester County Guard was effectively disbanded, under the watchful eye of 16,845 Columbian soldiers. In the face of such odds, what else could they do? Especially since the Columbians effectively held axes over the heads of 863 wounded Gloucestermen. So the remaining Gloucestermen turned over their rifles and their ammunition and began their treks home. Some had a fair way to go, others lived right here in Gloucester town, but all were going home. Hopefully to stay.

The Battle of Yorktown

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Gloucester Point
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
6 March 2293

It was just after sunrise, meaning it was still cool and the area was bathed in soft, orange light. General Samuel stood at the Gloucester Point Boat Ramp, looking across the York River to Yorktown. Yorktown had heard about the invasion. Between the Battle of Seaford on the Second, the Battle of Newport on the Third, and the Battle of Gloucester two days ago, Yorktown had to be feeling fairly surrounded at this point. And, based on what Samuel could see through his binoculars, so did the rest of York County. There were nearly 3,800 men defending Yorktown, most of them from outside the town. Unfortunately for Samuel, his division would have a single bridge to cross and no reinforcements, since General Rogers was 13 miles away in Gloucester with the rest of the Second Corps. It would take them most of the day to reach Gloucester Point, meaning he couldn’t rely on them. However, he’d considered that. Yesterday, he’d taken a small boat from the Gloucester Point Marina and met with the commander of the frigate Queen Anne. The man agreed to lend Samuel his Marines as well as 120 lifeboats from the six transports that had brought the First Corps and were currently being used to ship in supplies. It was decided that enough supplies were in place that First Corps could maintain itself for a couple of days extra. Using the lifeboats, he could send a full legion across the York River, outflanking the defenders by landing at the old Coast Guard Training Center, 2 miles east of Yorktown.
His current plan had the Queen Anne dropping its Marines about now, allowing them to secure the beach that Legion General Erwin Collins Third Legion would be landing at. The Queen Anne would then sail towards the bridge and would set itself at an angle between Gloucester Point and Victory Hill before opening fire. It would be joined by the artillery of the First and Second Legions, with the Second Legion’s infantry formed up at one end of the bridge in preparation for an advance. Meanwhile, the Third Legion would land at the Coast Guard Center, with their own cavalry and artillery before marching about a mile until they reached the ancient redoubts that marked Washington’s Siege of Yorktown. 24 minutes for the crossing and 25 minutes for the march, with another 20 minutes for assembly and deployment. A total of 69 minutes. Enough time for 121 guns to fire 41 times. 4,961 rounds. At that point, another 48 guns would join the barrage. That next salvo of 169 shots would precipitate the infantry advance. The Second and Third Legions would begin their 25 minute advances under the cover of artillery fire. By the end of it, 2,535 more rounds would be fired by the artillery. And then they would meet the enemy in combat. At that point, it would be a question of time before the Virginians broke or surrendered. Attacked from two sides and pinned by artillery, Samuel was confident of victory.

He looked east and saw Queen Anne advancing upriver. That meant the marines had been released. He waited a moment as the frigate moved herself into position and then waved his hand. 121 guns fired almost in unison, hurling shell and shrapnel at the Yorkist lines.

Those first shells caught the Yorkists by surprise. 13 men were killed or wounded in that first volley and that was just the beginning. Men ran about, trying desperately to find something, anything, that could protect them from the hail of iron and flame that was tearing the village of Yorktown to pieces.

Two miles east, the Marines landed at the Coast Guard Center to no resistance at 7:00. The Yorkists, it appeared, had focused their efforts at the bridge. The Marines stuck a blue handkerchief on a bayonet and waved it, signalling to the Third Legion that it was safe to begin the crossing.
And cross they did. For 24 minutes the men rowed. And in those 24 minutes, 1,694 shells were fired by the artillery, killing or wounding 188 Yorkists. Then the men were hauling themselves off the boats and pulling their equipment, horses, and guns off after themselves. In the 20 minutes it took them to get assembled, another 1,452 shells were fired, causing 161 casualties. In the 25 minutes it took the Third to march to the Yorktown Battlefield Park, another 1,815 rounds were fired, causing another 201 casualties. It took them 10 minutes to get the guns unlimbered and in position and all the troops formed. 10 minutes in which another 66 Yorkists became casualties.

The battle had been raging for 79 minutes now and 629 Yorkists were casualties. At 8:20 AM, 80 minutes into the battle, the Third Legion joined in. This new 169 gun salvo killed or wounded 18 more Yorkists and signaled the start of the advance.

The Third Legion was marching in two ranks, extended in a close order line formation. The Second Legion was advancing in four columns of four files down the George P. Coleman Memorial Bridge. In those 25 minutes, another 1,815 rounds were fired and another 201 casualties suffered by the Yorkists.

And, at 8:45 on the dot, the artillery stopped.

For a moment, it was dead silent. No sound could be heard as the smoke of burst shells hung lazily in the still morning air. A few Yorkists peered over their shallow earthworks to see what was happening. Shockingly, there was no one in front of them.

And then they heard the drums. Steady, rhythmic, martial.

And coming from behind them. One by one, Yorkists turned on their heels. Their line had been formed on Water Street and the bridge passed over their heads. The Yorkists, so distracted by the incoming shells, had completely ignored that fact and the Columbians had been entirely unaware of it.
The Yorkists were now in a real pickle. They were hemmed in from three sides. The river prevented them from fleeing north and they had almost 10,000 men blocking their path to the south and east. The only option, then, was west. The problem with that was that the Columbians were less than 200 yards away and the Columbians were ready.

For many of the Yorkists, this was their first taste of true combat. Sure, they had fought before. They’d been in gunfights and battles with raiders, super mutants, ghouls, and even other settlements. But they’d never faced something like this. They’d never faced such a concentrated barrage of artillery nor been opposed by such a large host. Some of the older, more experienced veterans already had the rifles in hand and making sure the actions were free of dirt and the weapons loaded and ready to fire. But close to half the men were young and inexperienced, most of them close to panic after having been shelled for almost two hours straight and having seen 830 of their friends, neighbors, and relatives killed or grievously wounded.

But the old hands were there, shouting out encouragement in the stillness and silence. “Look lively, lads,” one would say. Another would shout, “Buck up now, there’s a good lad.” And then another would call, “It’s all gonna work itself out, you’ll be fine.” The words of encouragement steadied many of them, who busied themselves collecting their rifles, sweeping dirt and grime off of the receivers and ensuring they were loaded.

All the shock and encouragement took maybe 90 seconds. Then they heard the orders. “MAKE READY!” In nigh perfect unison, 8,640 rifles went from the shoulder to the ready. “TAKE AIM!” The rifles went from the ready to the present. Quickly, a Yorkist officer shouted, “READY, MEN! TAKE AIM!” The old hands were smooth in their actions, raising their rifles to their shoulders with the calm, mechanical precision of experience. The younger ones made quick movements, rushed and sloppy, driven by panic combined with muscle memory. And then the Columbian and Yorkist officers shouted as one.

“FIRE!”

There were 2,960 Yorkists that fired their weapons, compared to 8,640 Columbians. The Yorkists put 39 Columbians down. The Columbians dropped 115 Yorkists. As the Columbians reloaded, the Yorkists fired three more times. 113 Columbians fell before they fired again, dropping 113 Yorkists. Then it was the Yorkists again, claiming 109 Columbians. Then it was the Columbians, claiming 112 Yorkists. The shooting lasted a full minute. The Columbians fired fifteen volleys to the Yorkists 45. At the end of that single minute, 1,588 Yorkists were dead or wounded as were 1,192 Columbians. 1,372 Yorkists were still on their feet at the end of a minute of shooting. The Columbians still had over 7,400 riflemen, with a total of 8,504 officers and men.

And that’s when the shout was heard. “CHARGE!” Out of the thick smoke that had blanketed the Columbian line, came thousands of Columbian soldiers, their bayonets levelled at the Yorkists. The Yorkists could see Columbians charging from the front and flank and turned to flee the only way they could. West.

But as they did, the cavalry of the Second and Third Legions, 824 men thus far uncommitted, caught them in the flank with a volley. 10 more Yorkists dropped. All of them died, some to the bullets, most to being trampled by other Yorkists as they fled. And then the cavalry charged. They thundered in from the flanks, sabers at the ready. They crashed through the broken Yorkist formation, shattering them. Yorkists were cut down and trampled with equal abandon and the charge by the cavalry slowed their retreat long enough that the Columbian infantry could pile in. No one stopped running, though. It became a running melee up Water Street, with Columbians shooting, stabbing, hacking, and slashing any Yorkists they could reach. And the village wasn’t spared, either.
The First Legion’s Cavalry was picking through the village itself, plundering and looting. All 98 people who lived in Yorktown were found in a church, out of the way of the fighting. The cavalrymen surrounded the church, with the villagers still inside, and opened fire with their rifles. They fired hundreds of rounds into the church, shattering windows and splintering wood and then they kicked the door in. It was at that point, just before the massacre started, that Major Willoughby stormed in. He stepped between his men and the villagers and said, “Any man who wishes to harm these civilians will answer to me. And then, he will answer to his God.” With the specter of death hanging over their heads, Willoughby’s cavalry left the church to continue to loot the town.

Back on Water Street, some Yorkists tried to surrender. They’d throw their rifles away, lifting their hands in the air and begin pleading. “QUARTER! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD QUARTER!” But their pleas, all too often, fell upon deaf ears. The cavalry simply cut them down or shot them dead where they stood. The infantry were little better. A group of Yorkist soldiers, about 400 in all, crowded into the ruins of an old museum. While the cavalry chased after any survivors still running around outside, this small group tried to parlay with the infantry. Tried and succeeded. Their surrender was accepted and they became the only group to really be successful in their attempt to surrender.

The Battle of Yorktown left 215 Columbians dead and another 977 wounded, alongside 612 Yorkists wounded and 2,777 dead. Another 400 able bodied Yorkists were taken prisoner. Most of the Yorkist dead had initially been wounded but were later killed, either by their injuries or through being trampled in the route and subsequent charge or because they were executed by Columbian soldiers looking to steal their personal effects. For all intents and purposes, Yorktown was a massacre, not a battle. News of the slaughter would echo across the county and leave tens of thousands in fear. With virtually every single member of the York County Guard either dead or being held on Columbian prison ships in Chesapeake Bay, who would protect them from raiders and other threats? How would they harvest their crops in the fall, with so many of their men gone for good? In a single day, the lives of 30,000 people were put in jeopardy.

The Battle of Hampton

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Newport News
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
9 March 2293

General Rogers’ Corps had arrived yesterday. It had suffered several hundred casualties in battles in Gloucester and York Counties, but was still mostly intact, with some 33,491 officers and men present and fit for duty. Added to the 23,489 men under General Verdan, a total of 56,980 officers and men of the Republican Army were fit for combat duty. Their next destination was the city of Hampton, a distance of a little over 4 miles between the cities walls. Hampton’s walls extended down Lasalle Avenue to the river and then from Lasalle Avenue along Route 258 to Mill Creek, about 6 miles long. With a population of 67,567, it was believed that Hampton would be defended with similar weapons to what Newport News had had. Given the population, Verdan and Rogers estimated that perhaps 7,500 men defended Hampton. General Verdan would leave General Allen’s infantry, about 8,655 men altogether, and would bring General Greene’s division along with General Allen’s cavalry and artillery, totaling 14,628 men. General Rogers’ Corps would set up along the eastern side, from Chesapeake to East Mercury while General Verdan would set General Greene up along East Mercury. St. Mary, Queen Anne, and Hampshire would provide naval gunfire support as well as deploy their Marines and some of their crews to seize Fort Monroe and Fort Wool. General Greene would be instructed to provide some troops to assist in the capture of Fort Monroe while the majority of the forces would be securing the city.

The march to Hampton began at 6:00 AM, for a march of 5 miles along Route 258. After three and a half hours, the entire force was in position and the artillery was deploying to provide support. Captain Clarke, General Verdan’s aide de camp, was sent to demand the cities surrender.

Arriving at the gates on Old Buckroe Road, Clarke was met by a soldier, in an uncanny recreation of the battle five days earlier. “What do you want?” the soldier demanded. “With General Verdan’s compliments, I would like your surrender.” The soldier replied, “And would I be correct in assuming that, should we refuse, you’ll attack us like you did Newport last week?” Clarke nodded, “You would be correct in that assumption, sir. Surrender would be in your best interests.” The soldier shrugged. “I’ll talk to the mayor. I’ll give you the answer in one, maybe two hours.” Captain Clarke returned to General Verdan’s headquarters, in another barn, this one standing above the foundation of the Dominion Children’s Academy.

“General Verdan, this city would appear to have a similar opinion as Norfolk. Surrender appears unlikely but I have been assured of a response within two hours.” Verdan looked at his pocket watch. “That would put it at about midday before we receive an answer.” He turned to another aide and said, “Ride for General Rogers’ headquarters. Ask him to please signal the Navy and inform them that our attack is tentatively scheduled for half past noon. Inform him that a surrender will be indicated by white flags flying from the city walls. An attack will be signaled by a red flag and the commencement of a bombardment. Captain Clarke, you will ride back to the wall and give them the signal to display if they choose surrender. Inform them that, should they not signal their surrender by twelve thirty, we will attack.” Captain Clarke saluted and said, “Yes, sir. We require signal of surrender by twelve thirty.”

A few minutes after that meeting, Captain Clarke was back at the walls of Hampton. “With General Verdan’s compliments, I am instructed to inform you that, should you agree to surrender, you are to indicate your surrender by flying white flags from the wall. If we do not see white flags on the walls by twelve thirty today, we will commence our attack.” A soldier on the wall replied, “I’ll let the mayor know.” Captain Clarke returned to General Verdan, as his presence would no longer be needed at the wall.

As the clock ticked by, the troops were permitted to relax. Many were concerned. Chaplains held services and men wrote final letters for sweethearts, wives, and parents. Aboard the three frigates, the 204 Marines were gathering about a third of each crew for use as a landing party. The total strength of the landing party now stood at 585 officers and men and were in the process of ensuring they had arms and ammunition and that the boats were in good condition. The three ships boats would be sufficient to deploy the entire party under the cover of the naval guns. Once ashore, speed and aggression would be required. As such, each man carried a rifle with a bayonet fixed, two pistols, and a cutlass. A one pound swivel gun would be mounted the bow of each boat, allowing 24 small guns to be used. The Marines had even crafted small “carriages” for the swivels, so that they could be removed from the boats and employed during the attack. The carriages were little more than blocks of wood with a hole at one end for the swivel to slide into and two handles on either side for men to carry it. A total of four men would be detached to man each gun, for a total of 96 impromptu artillerymen. The guns wouldn’t do much to any defenses but they weren’t being brought for that. They were being brought for anti-personnel work with grapeshot.
Due to the form of the island on which Fort Monroe stood, the Marines would have to attack along Fort Monroe Beach, left with a single road into the fort, 5 Northgate Road. The three frigates would be the primary source of covering fire, though they had been promised a legion from General Greene’s division, meaning they’d have close to 4,000 men and 48 guns in support as they crossed the Mercury Boulevard Bridge. With about 4,500 men in total, it was believed that they would be able to secure the fort quickly and with minimal casualties, especially since the majority of the defenders would be attempting to hold the walls.

12:30 came and went with no white flags flying. Disappointed, General Verdan and General Rogers ordered red flags to be flown over their headquarters. At 12:36, the first guns fired. 576 guns fired on the walls while another 75 guns were firing on Fort Monroe. The boats, carrying the landing parties, entered the water at 12:40. It would take them 7 minutes to make the 3,000 foot journey from the ships to the beaches. 7 minutes in which 300 rounds would be fired, with a broadside fired roughly every 100 seconds. During the last 4 minutes, the ships had already fired 150 rounds. With a total of six broadsides fired by the time the landing parties reached the beach, combined with the fire from the Army, Fort Monroe would be hit by 288 shots from the Army and 450 from the Navy. Almost 3,200 shots would be fired at the walls from the Army’s remaining 528 guns.

With the infantry having a full mile to walk, the artillery would be firing a total of 15 additional salvoes, meaning that by the time the infantry reached the walls, 11,088 shots would have been fired by the 3-inch rifles. At Fort Monroe, it was expected that it might take the landing party and the legion nearly that long to reach their destinations, meaning another 1,845 shots striking Fort Monroe’s defenders. The sheer weight of iron shot and shell tearing into the defenders was astounding. Bolts tore jagged holes into the walls, sending splinters flying through the air like daggers and ripping limbs from men unlucky enough to be behind the wall where the bolt hit. But bolts were only used for the first three salvoes, just to get the range. With the range now known, shell and shrapnel were used. Shrapnel shells would be fired over the walls, with their fuses cut so they would explode over the heads of the defenders, raining jagged bits of their cases and half inch iron balls that shattered bone, tore flesh and organs, and doused the walls with blood and viscera. Shell was fired at the walls and tore enormous holes into the wooden palisades.

Wood made sense for the walls, since it was the most plentiful building material in the wasteland and two hundred year old trees made plenty of posts and planks. Against the pipe guns and hunting rifles generally carried by raiders, it worked plenty well. But against proper artillery, the wall was only moderately effective. When bolts hit it, they just ripped a roughly three inch diameter hole into the posts and blanks, sending splinters flying about and causing only a few casualties. But shell would take the three inch hole and make it a yard or more in diameter, even tearing up the wooden causeways that the defenders stood on and hurtling them to their deaths, if they hadn’t been killed outright in the explosion. The jagged bits of iron and the wooden splinters inflicted even more casualties, killing and maiming soldiers and civilians with equal abandon.

Some shell and shrapnel shots overshot the walls, exploding in or above houses and streets, turning families into bloody debris. Some even started fires when they blew burning bits of wood out of stoves and fireplaces.

At Fort Monroe, casualties were unsustainable. Only 500 men had been there in the first place and close to ten minutes of fire had resulted in almost a hundred men becoming casualties to artillery fire alone. They hadn’t been able to inflict many losses on the Columbians. The four howitzers they possessed had limited ammunition and nobody was well versed in how to operate them, as they had never been allowed to fire except in emergencies. And the last time one of those had occurred had been almost a century ago when a pack of Deathclaws attacked. None of the men who had fought those Deathclaws off were alive today and the 20 men assigned to the gun crews had only ever practiced the steps of aiming and firing them. The only knowledge they had around actually installing the fuses and determining charge weight was from the handful of manuals they still had, all of them reproductions from pre-war manuals and they were missing some of the pages. With shells exploding all around and men, women, and children screaming in a mix of terror and pain, they could be forgiven their shaking hands and blank minds as they struggled to remember their drills and training. Their rate of fire was, predictably, slow and their accuracy left much to be desired. And, without anyone to spot where their shells were landing and limited communications aside from runners even if they had spotters, corrections couldn’t be made.

By this point, it was nearly 1:00. The attack had been underway for twenty four minutes. 9,114 shots had been fired by the artillery, 7,161 of these shots being shell or shrapnel. The destruction these shots wrought was vicious. Of the 7,000 men holding the walls around the main city of Hampton, around 840 were casualties, with 183 of those dead. Several hundred civilians in Hampton were also killed or wounded and several houses were burning, killing many more who found themselves trapped by the spreading fires. Hundreds of brave men and women formed bucket brigades, dodging shrapnel and exploding shells as they hauled water from cisterns, wells, and anywhere else they could get it to the fires, desperately attempting to save as much of the city as they could, if not from the artillery then at least from the flames.
At Fort Monroe, 1,353 shots had hit the walls, inflicting 146 casualties, with 32 of them dead. The only respite they had was that the legion, some 4,000 men, had taken nearly 15 minutes to arrive, as they had been forced to also use boats to get there. The downside to that was that it meant they spent almost 8 more minutes under concentrated artillery fire without being able to reply to anyone aside from the landing party at the beach, faced nominally by a company of 125 men but in practice, 89 men were casualties, with 19 dead. With only 36 men fit for combat, they had to draw from the other companies. The problem with that was that while the Eastern and Western companies had suffered no casualties, due to the artillery being focused on the Northern and Southern walls, the Northern Company also required reinforcements, with their own casualties totaling 57 men, including 13 dead. But the legion had finally arrived on the beaches five minutes earlier, during which time the attacking force had advanced across 1,000 feet of mostly open ground in the face of growing fire from the ramparts. But in those same five minutes, the Eastern and Western companies, thus far unscathed, began to suffer losses. 369 shots hit the walls, inflicting a further 41 casualties on the defenders, with 9 more dead. About 100 men had been sent to the Southern wall, enough to bring the force there back to full strength and a bit more. 150 went to the North Wall, where the largest enemy force would be. 16 of the now 218 strong force at the North wall had become casualties, with 25 casualties at the South Wall. And the rifle fire began. At the North Wall, the Legion suffered 532 casualties while at the South Wall, the landing party suffered a staggering 450 casualties. The landing party routed, fleeing back to the boats with 135 survivors.

But that small victory was not nearly enough. 2,765 Columbians were scaling the North Wall. While 156 men attached grappling hooks to the walls, rifle and artillery fire inflicted 61 more casualties on the North Wall, while the frigates at Sea, combined with sporadic fire from the retreating landing party, caused another 20 at the Southern Wall. With only 232 survivors fit for action, it was clear the game was up. Fort Monroe surrendered at 1:05 PM, after suffering another 11 casualties on the South Wall and around 40 at the North Wall. 181 prisoners were taken and the Columbian flag flew from Fort Monroe’s flagpole at 1:09.

At the walls, the battle was going equally roughly. With 840 casualties already inflicted in the first 25 minutes of the battle, the arrival of the infantry, some 37,728 men, within 500 yards 7 minutes earlier allowed the defenders to finally inflict casualties on the Columbians.

General Greene’s Division, some 5,760 infantry in total, faced a section of wall nominally defended by 1,352 Hamptonites. However, the artillery fire from 240 guns over the course of 25 minutes, some 3,600 shots, caused about 382 casualties, including 83 fatalities. The surviving 970 able Hamptonites fired their rifles, inflicting 905 casualties upon General Greene’s division during the 7 minutes it took them to cross 500 yards. 4,567 survivors then fired up at the walls, covering 288 other soldiers as they attached their grappling lines. Over the 30 seconds it took for the grappling lines to be attached, 76 casualties were inflicted on the Hamptonites. Another 27 casualties to artillery fire were inflicted before the Columbians clambered over the wall and the guns stopped. A fierce melee ensued on the East Wall, but the Hamptonites were severely outnumbered. With only 867 soldiers able to fend off 4,855 attacking Columbians, the Hamptonites began to withdraw. Slowly, at first, but soon it became a route. 70 Hamptonites were dead alongside 55 Columbians as a result of the short melee and the Columbians took the time to pour fire into their fleeing foe.

On the North Wall, General Amos was launching his own attack, with 14,544 men, facing a nominal defense of 2,824. However, 229 of these defenders were casualties from artillery fire. The 2,595 survivors inflicted 2,422 casualties on Amos’ men during the 7 minutes they were in range. Then, as 576 men rushed forward to attach grappling hooks, another 11,520 fired. In thirty seconds, some 192 defenders were killed to rifle fire and another 16 were killed by artillery. The 2,387 remaining able defenders faced long odds but held their ground initially. They gave as good as they got for a few minutes, killing about 250 Columbians for the loss of 300 of their own. Then, someone shouted that the East Wall was collapsing. Men paused and looked to the east. Seeing their comrades fleeing and knowing that their flank was now exposed, men from the North Wall began to run.

At the Western Wall, an almost identical fight to the one at the Northern Wall was being fought by General Samuel’s division. Hundreds of both attackers and defenders lay dead or wounded, strewn about the ground and the wall as thousands of attacking Columbians swarmed up the wall and engaged in vicious hand to hand battle. News soon reached the West Wall that the East Wall was routing and then they heard that the North Wall was routing, as well. With 5 to 1 odds in front of them and the same now able to pour fire into their flank, the troops on the Western Wall fled.

It didn’t do any of them any good. Sacrificing the high ground to disciplined and experienced soldiers, the Hamptonites were slaughtered by rifle fire. Then the gates were flung open and hundreds of cavalrymen swarmed through the streets, shooting and hacking any in their path. Men, women, and children were slaughtered, their blood running in red rivers through the streets. Soldiers grabbed women, intent on taking advantage of them while their officers were distracted, some even with the cooperation of their officers. Other soldiers tossed lit matches into houses, setting them ablaze. Still others simply murdered anyone that wasn’t wearing a Columbian uniform.

At 5:00, the mayor of Hampton finally surrendered. It took another hour and a half for the Columbian soldiers to be brought to heel. In over 6 hours, some 7,346 Columbians were killed or wounded. Nearly 1,000 more were missing. Almost 30,000 people, nearly half the population of Hampton, were dead, wounded, or missing, most of them civilians butchered by the Columbians after they breached the walls. Newport had been bad but Hampton would be remembered forever as a massacre.

General Verdan and General Rogers each sent an independent report. General Verdan reported his casualties as 281 killed, 1,270 wounded, and 448 missing. General Rogers reported his losses as 967 dead, 4,377 wounded, and 656 missing. The Navy reported their losses as 82 dead and 368 wounded. The total casualties for the Columbians were 1,330 dead, 6,015 wounded, and 1,104 missing, totaling 8,449 casualties. The pattern that was emerging lead both Verdan and Rogers to request reinforcements at the earliest possible opportunity. In the meantime, they would focus on consolidating their position and installing batteries at Fort Monroe.

While Verdan and Rogers were consolidating and licking their wounds, the other settlements of Hampton Roads had caught on to what Columbia was doing.

And they were not going to stand for it.

Hampton Roads Strikes Back

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Norfolk side of the James River
Hampton Roads Region
Virginia
10 to 17 March 2293

The battles of Newport News and Hampton had sent shockwaves throughout the Hampton Roads region. Representatives from several cities and settlements all gathered in Norfolk to determine a response. After the loss of Newport News and Hampton, only 48,531 men were available for combat duty. These troops were well armed but it was reported that additional forces were being raised in Columbia. Initial call ups of reservists amounted to two full corps, of which one would arrive by the 15th and the other by the 20th. Two more corps were expected to arrive by the middle of April. If they were allowed to arrive in force, there would be nearly 200,000 Columbian Soldiers, a force which would likely overwhelm the region.

However, it would be weeks before all the region’s troops could be gathered. They didn’t campaign, aside from marching around to attack raiders and clear out ghouls, mutants, and monsters. The need to gather supplies of ammunition, food, and other items as well as organize the trains that would carry those supplies, was going to take the most time, with the marches only taking a week or so, depending on where the force was marching from. If the Columbians noticed it, it was reasonable to assume that they would take advantage of it and likely attack Norfolk or Virginia Beach, the result being that the region would be defeated in detail. They would need to keep the Columbians distracted and off balance, to prevent them from effectively attacking before the region had gathered its force. So, it was decided that Norfolk, Virginia Beach, Portsmouth, and Chesapeake, comprising the largest portion of the total forces, would assemble their troops. Norfolk had 13,759 men and 6 howitzers. Virginia Beach had 25,135 men and 10 howitzers. Chesapeake had 13,548 men and 6 howitzers. And Portsmouth had 5,284 men and 4 howitzers. That gave them a manpower advantage against the Columbians and their howitzers gave them a firepower advantage. However, the only way across the York River was in boats or across a single bridge, eighteen miles away, and the Columbians had been reinforced with more ships. The Columbians now had seventeen warships in Chesapeake Bay. Seventeen warships that could tear any ship in Hampton Roads to ribbons and could inflict terrible damage upon the towns themselves. They couldn’t march away, leaving the towns undefended, as the Columbians could then land troops and seize them with no resistance. And then there was the issue of the Columbian ships, who could shell them as they crossed the bridge. Combining those ships with the Columbian’s own guns, it was simply asking for a disaster.
The decision was made to divide the forces. Norfolk and Chesapeake would send 10,000 men each, Portsmouth 5,000, and Virginia Beach 20,000, a total of 35,000 men. They would bring with them twelve howitzers. However, without draft horses they had to use brahmin, which would limit their rate of advance to 10 miles per day. At that rate, it would take them two full days to reach Bartlett. Then they’d have to deploy and cross the bridge.
One of the men, General Adrian Howe from Virginia Beach, had a concern to voice. “Given the lack of crossings at Hampton, would it not be logical to assume that the invaders would concentrate their troops in Newport, the one place where a quick crossing can be made?” They could leave one of their more depleted units in Hampton and still resist us with good effect if we tried to land troops. But at Newport, they would probably have far more men. And not just men, but artillery, too. And the lack of full bridges across the James in front of Norfolk will allow them to send ships to support Newport. Certainly, our howitzers could do damage and inflict casualties, but we’d be unable to cross and our enemy will still receive reinforcements. What will we receive? Richmond hates us, especially after the thrashing we gave them a few years ago. Anyone else who could help us will take too long to get here.”
“Well then what would you suggest?”
Howe pointed at a map of the region. “We draw them out.” He tapped his finger on Suffolk, a town, 18 miles south of Bartlett and 18 miles west of Portsmouth. “Suffolk has another 5,000 men and four howitzers of their own. If we send our main force there and draw the Columbians to it, then we stand a chance of defeating them soundly. They’ll be unable to receive the support of their fleet in the bay and will be at the mercy of our guns.”
“But what makes you think they’ll even risk their army when they know they have reinforcements on the way?” The new voice was General Harold Forsyth, the commander of the Portsmouth forces. “For all we know, the Columbians have decided to withdraw north, to Yorktown. They control both York and Gloucester counties and can use the piers on the York River to land their supplies and reinforcements. It will be a four day march for us to reach Yorktown. It can hardly be said that any of our armies are ready for that. The men need food and water. We need tents, bedding, ammunition. Hell, we’ve never even tried to move our howitzers on the roads. For all we know, we’ll be slowed even more by having to repair yokes and harnesses. By the time we get there, the Columbians will have been reinforced by at least one, perhaps two corps. That’s over 120,000 men, if the refugees estimates of their current strength is correct. And that assumes they don't also replenish the two corps they already have here. To be perfectly honest, I don’t see much hope in chasing them or trying to draw them into a battle. They’ve shown themselves to be aggressive, certainly. But they’ve also shown a desire to achieve certainty of victory. Has anyone bothered to ask why they haven’t tried to cross the James yet? I’ll tell ya why. It’s because they know that reinforcements are coming and they are waiting until they have numerical supremacy. In all likelihood, the men we observe in Hampton are readying to march north. And it doesn’t matter which path we take. The Columbians aren’t going to fight us on our terms.”
The debate would continue for the rest of the day on the 10th and all day on the 11th. The decision was made to follow General Howe’s aggressive plan. On the morning of the 12th, the army began it’s march to suffolk, leaving behind the guns and choosing to rely on the guns at Suffolk. By the evening of the 12th, a total of 40,074 men were camped in and around Suffolk, Virginia. But for the next two days, nothing happened. By the morning of the 15th, the men were beginning to grow restless without a fight. General Howe ordered a reconnaissance in force to Bartlett. The five thousand Portsmouth men, led by General Forsyth, marched for 7 and a half hours to reach Bartlett. When they did, they saw smoke across the river. Forsyth rushed across the bridge with some of his troops. Before he was even halfway across, he stopped.

Newport News had been razed to the ground two days ago as the Columbians left. At the same time the Virginians were meeting in Norfolk, Verdan and Rogers held their own council of war, electing to withdraw north to Yorktown to meet their reinforcements. It would be an eight hour long march so, to cover themselves, they would torch the cities of Hampton and Newport at dawn. On the morning of the twelfth, the Columbians set fire to Newport. Hampton was abandoned on the 13th. By the morning of the 14th, the Columbians were fortifying a position 7 miles long. With 576 Infantry Companies, 48 Cavalry Troops, and 48 Artillery Batteries, it was considered a strong position. And it would become stronger on the 15th as the Fifth Army Corps arrived.

Late on the 15th, General Forsyth returned to Suffolk, reporting that Newport News was burned to the ground. Another messenger had arrived that morning, stating that Hampton had also been burned and instructing General Howe, General Forsyth, and the commander of the Suffolk Guard to attend a Council of War in Norfolk. The three men departed on the morning of the 16th, arriving that evening. For the last few hours of the day, they sat and argued with the other generals, attempting to determine their response. Forsyth couldn’t resist telling Howe, “I told you so. The Columbians withdrew back to Yorktown, a place where they can be safe from us and where they can replenish and reinforce.” The commander of the Norfolk troops, General William Allenby, responded tartly, “Then we must march with all haste and push them out!”
“Are you mad! For all we know they are reinforcing themselves at this very moment. It would take us three days just to make the march to Yorktown if we left the guns behind. Meaning we wouldn’t be there until the 21st at the earliest. If we bring the guns, then it’s going to be the 23rd or 24th before we get there. By which time they will probably not only be reinforced and resupplied, but well entrenched. But if we hole up here, we can force them to come to us and when they do, we can use our howitzers and field guns to deny them their naval support and we can concentrate our forces along the Elizabeth River. It will force them into a crossing, one which we can make prohibitively costly. The Columbians suffered heavy losses at Newport and Hampton and we can be confident that they will suffer heavy losses if they try a crossing.”
Allenby said, “You would have us hide behind a river after those animals massacred 40,000 people! No sir. We ought to attack them in force and with all the firepower we can muster. We must crush them at Yorktown and drive them into the York River.”
At that moment, a sergeant walked in. “Pardon me, sir, but Hawley is here.”
“What’s that butcher doing here?” Howe demanded.
“I’m here, Adrian, to offer you my services. Five thousand six hundred men, armed and ready for a fight.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“I get to live longer if I fight with you. Them Columbians didn’t murder those civvies cause they like it. Their blood was up and they were killing anything and everything they found. After they knock you lot out, they’ll come after my little slice of Virginia next. And unlike you, they don’t want to tax me. No, sir. They’ll kill every man in my band. And probably a good portion of the folk living with us. Y’all are at least neighborly and don’t bug us so long as we don’t bug you.”
Forsyth spoke up. “If we are going to attack, another 5,600 men would be helpful. The guns will slow us down and make us vulnerable. Hawley’s men could be used to screen our advance and prevent raids.” Allenby nodded. “Very well. Hawley, have your men in Suffolk in two days.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Good, then we will depart for Suffolk tomorrow with as many guns as we can bring and most of the garrison, about 11,000 men. Combine that with the 40,000 men in Suffolk and Hawley’s own 5,600 men, we will have 56,600 men at our disposal with 150 guns. Carts have already been loaded with ammunition and supplies so we shall not be delayed by that.” Allenby clapped his hands together. “Excellent. By next week, we will have driven these invaders from our lands. Gentlemen, let us eat. Mister Hawley, you are welcome to join us.”

[NewLakotah]

Chapter One: Per Fideum in Deum – Part Two

“Great empires are not maintained by timidity” -Tacitus

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Brady, San Angelo Prefecture
Imperial Romanum

The sun was pushing its way down, with it the coolness of the night rising faster, although the light from the sun clung to everything and would do so for as long as it could. The town was quiet, its lazy feel due simply to a lack of things to do. Brady was a small, one horse Roman town, the last of the large towns before entering into the border areas between both the Reds and Royals. As such, it was an important military crossroads and a forward base for one of the Comitatenses Legions, the Legio II Custodes Imperatoria. Outside of this, the region of McCullough County, and much of the eastern region, was considering the “breadbasket” of the empire, one of the areas where agriculture and food production was the most consistent and providing the most towards the Empire’s needs. Other areas were also agricultural, with cattle ranching being the most popular, but not place matched the consistent ability of the San Angelo Prefecture.

Because of this the area remained rather sparely populated, with the exception being San Angelo, the Prefecture’s capital, and to a lesser extent, Brady, being one of the key military and transport hubs for grain and cattle. As well as for the meat packing industry. The area outside of these two towns were predominantly rural, with the landed nobility and the other yeoman farmers making up the largest segment of the population, with the rest either being stationed military personnel, or those that created their jobs based on the stationed military personnel, many being of an “immoral” work.

The town of Brady and the surrounding county was under the control of the Comitissa Abigail Swallow, the Lady McCulloch. The county was one of the most important of the region, besides perhaps only San Angelo the capital of the Prefecture, and as such had made it and the Swallow Household, very wealthy. Their house manor on the outskirts of the town was large, surrounding by fields, and rebuilt in large post after the war, although this area had been more or less spared the worst of the nuclear warfare that had destroyed most of the North American continent.

For Abigail Swallow, her position had afforded plenty of luxuries, that many, even other “patricians” in other parts of the empire wouldn’t dream of having. The position of Comitissa, or Countess anglicized, meant that she was the effective political controller of the country of McCulloch. Of course, there was town and county assemblies, made up mainly of other noble patrician families, however, she effectively dominated the area and even to that owned a large portion of land which was worked by tenant farmers who paid her sums in return for the ability to work and sell their crop, as well as indentured servants, barbarians who had been seized through military campaigns and had as of yet to adopt Romanized cultures and views, perhaps because no one really wanted to let them as no Roman could be held as a indentured servants, and so, granting them Roman citizenship would be losing of a cheap labour force.

This had made the Lady McCulloch extremely wealthy, independently as it were, allowing for her to stretch her authority far beyond that of the average political and patrician class-fellow. Her father and mother before her had expanded control, investing capital into various ventures in the town and county, giving them even more control over the business ventures that went on. Her large Estate was at the end of the town, far enough to be distant from the bustle and busy streets of Brady, but close enough to allow for easy access into town. Beyond that stretched the rest of the Swallow Estate, large areas of land filled with various cash and food crops, as well as ranching territory farther along the fringes of Swallow’s lands. Down the small battered pathway stood the main core of the town of Brady.

Brady was not by any means a large town, it was mainly an agricultural centre, the entire eastern region of the San Angelo Prefecture was dominated by agriculture of various sorts, mainly food or cash crops, tobacco and cotton being dominant. Ranching, of course, was a major agricultural product, as it was in almost any part of the empire. This made the region the as it were, “breadbasket” of Rome, and, made Brady an important agricultural hub. The town’s main street, which lead down to the gated wood of the Swallow Estate, was the main centre for commerce. While much of the food production and packing was done in San Angelo, there was still several packing industries, mainly meat packing, that formed the basis of the economy of the town. The main military officer’s headquarters was also in the town, albeit it not along the main road, however, their impact, along with the rest of the enlisted men who resided mostly in barracks only a few kilometres outside of the town, was certainly felt by the town’s businesses. Alongside that, the merchant class had moved in, in a large way. Trading companies and transport companies lined the street with their signs, office and central commerical buildings, and the various carts and cattle carts stocked and ordered for business. In between these were the standards of any town: the general stores, small workshops, textiles, the boucheries, and, of course, the public houses.

In all it created a unique sort of town, filled with the landowning aristocracy that dominated much of the land, the free-owning yeoman farmers, the tenant farmers, the town’s working class, the wealthy plebeian merchant class. A mix of people intermixing and milling about, the last major town before entering the limites. In all Brady was, as it was so often described, bustling but quaint.

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The Lady McCullough stood and watched as the caravan approached her gates. She was standing out front of her house, on top of the steps, placing her above the rest of her household and staff that stood around. Pomp and ceremony were important parts of Roman, especially upper-class Romans, and duty and protocols were important to follow. Especially in this case, a visit from the Prefect himself, Galerius Licinius. Below Lady McCullough on the steps, closest to her and just a step below, was her 24 year-old nephew and adopted son and noble heir Lord Constans Waterman Swallow. He was her adopted son in the custom of Roman traditions of adoption, and with no natural born heirs herself, he was next in line for the position of Comes of McCullough. Tribunus Sir Cartier McDonough-Wainwright, in his full red dress uniform stood a few steps below, his hand tucked formally into jacket, his other resting on the hilt of his sheathed sabre. McDonough-Wainwright was the commander of the forward base of the Custodes Imperatora, their forward headquarters based in the town of Brady itself. Below the rest of them several of the town’s important civilian administrators stood dressed in their most elegant styled formal wear. The town’s mayor Isaac Hull and Councilor Marissa Tumley were the most prominent members, and finally, below them was the staff and servants of the main manor, all waiting to receive their guests.

The caravan moved up the long drive, before finally stopped in front of the house. Out in front rode several mounted Royal Guards, their crisp red and blue cavalry uniform with gold trim over black pants and high riding boots stood out sharply as they stared forward under their more ornate than practical dress helmet with red fringe, looking somewhat like the ancient Roman equestrians themselves. Behind the caravan rode several other official Praetorians. And then, finally, out stepped the entourage. Prefect Licinius stepped out smartly onto the drive. In his fine prefect looking Prefect military dress uniform and standing nearly 6’5, there was hardly a more intimidating and commanding figure than Licinius. Even the crisp uniform and stance of McDonough-Wainwright seemed slack in the face of this professionalism. Licinius had been one of the original Legionaries in the time before the Conquest. That loyalty and support had lead to him gaining this positon, Prefect of one of the most important military and civilian districts of the entire country. It might be far-flung, in relations to the capital, but its importance to the nation couldn’t be stress more.

The man strode swiftly up to the steps in a parade-like manner, staring straight forward, eyes fixed in front of him, and on Lady McCullough, who did her best to look official and in control as much as she could in the face of the Prefect. Behind Licinius walked up several other members of his staff and guests, a few military officers and administerial staff members. The various members of the reception committee bowed respectfully as he walked by, and, as he stepped up directly in front of the Lady McCullough, she also dipped in respect, lowering her eyes and head, while McDonough-Wainwright saluted crisply at his own turn. Licinius had returned the salute, and although it was quick and merely a reaction, it was still crisp and professional. Licinius had stopped now, his staff several feet behind him still on the steps. Lady McCullough tried hard to maintain her pose and presence in front of the imposing figure, and she thought she had managed to do a decent job. Size be damned in my estate, she thought to herself.

“Prefect Licinius, it is my honour to welcome you to Brady, my Lord.” Lady McCullough said smiling warmly up at the tall man from her own height of around 5’2.

“Lady McCullough, it is my honour to be here in your fine estate.” Licinius replied, his high voice cracking like a whip as he spoke, which, almost surprisingly, made him seem more intimidating and professional.

“If you will come with me.” Lady McCullough spoke again, motioning to the inside of the building. Licinius nodded and started inside. Inside, the manor was marked with the signs of high-class livings. Sharp and clean, the living area and dining hall stood out. Although some of house and its furniture was battered remnants of the old world, worked back into as good of a shape as they could manage it, others were handcrafted from workshops in town.

The Prefect and his entourage has entourage had entered into the building and had finally congregated in the parlour, while several of the servants walked around, handing out drinks, and hors d'oeuvres to the ensemble. Formal greetings and introductions had been exchanged between the group and the talk had generally shifted into more informal talk, as they waited to begin their more important business of the day, the reason for the visit of the Prefect to the town of Brady, which wasn’t exactly a quick ride.

“Well, much of the north is great farming area, but simply isn’t used as much as it should due to the danger from the Reds, quite frankly, we really have no people willing to risk that sort of danger and life when there is ample farming area to the south of it that is far safer than anything that goes on up there. Not to mention the Limitanei and Comitatenses extreme desire to launch artillery fire on any open field that they find in their training missions.” Lady McCullough was talking to Licinius, Lord Waterman Swallow, her nephew and adopted heir, sat next to her, seeming more interested in his glass of port than the conversation.

“Certainly you are there. It is a shame, however. That the territory is marked so unusable, due to the conflict, however, minimal and minor that threat has been, however, that will be soon to change.” Licinius responded, his sharp cracking voice stopping and stopping on a dime like a reloading machine gun. Lady McCullough nodded and smiled before looking up at the clock.

“If you wish, we can continue our discussion, and move on to the matter of attention that you desire, in the dining hall. There we can hold our discussion in a more private manner after our food is served.” Lad McCullough said. Lord Waterman Swallow practically leapt out of his seat with a smile.

“Quite,” He said, moving towards the table. “This way gentlemen, ladies.” He said with a smile. Lord Waterman Swallow was a rather dashing looking young man, with a smooth cut hair cut and a classic 3 piece-suit. Other than a short tour of duty with the Limitanei, one where he had shown little desire or aptitude for military science, most of his life had been spent in the town and region, managing the farms and business side of the packing industry. He had done well, and even though he was young, showed remarkable aptitude for business and agricultural sciences. And, being a young dashing looking young noble man in the area, made him very popular with the ladies. Especially when he would inflate his “combat tours” as a lieutenant “guarding the border from all enemies, man or beast” as he would often say. Now in the presence of actual military professionals, he kept his service record to himself, no reason to pretend in front of real soldiers.

The dining hall was exactly that, a large hall with a large wood table that dominated the centre while various cabinets, mainly holding wine and other such delicacies stood around the sides. Various members of the service and kitchen staff were already there, placing the plates of food around the table as the various members shuffled in from the parlour and into in the dining hall. With a quick wave from Lady McCullough the staff had left after filling the glasses and plates, and after a prayer from Legate McDonough-Wainwright, the party began to dig into their food, and begin to discuss their business.

Licinius was the first to turn the subject to the matter of business. He looked from both McDonough-Wainwright to Lady McCullough in swift mechanical motions. My God this man doesn’t shut off, I would certainly hate with all hell to be his wife, Lady McCullough thought to herself.
“Now, I do believe it is the proper time to settle down to business. Your magnanimity and graciousness as a host has been absolutely superb.” Licinius said. Lady McCullough smiled and nodded.

“Now, the basis of our concern here, in the San Angelo Prefecture, is very simple, really. Several thousand Comitatenses are heading to here and all along the border areas. To my knowledge all we seem to be waiting for is the go ahead from Nova Roma. What, if anything, they are waiting for, is, well, unknown to me and probably classified to the highest levels. What is important, desperately important, is the need to supply our soldiers.” Licinius paused. McCullough said nothing. McDonough-Wainwright nodded, knowingly. Of course, being a Legate he was already primed for news such as this. Lady McCullough, having never been a member of any military force, was certainly not privy to that information. That being said, the news of troop movements and preparations for… what was it exactly? A campaign of some sort, something major. Something that had certainly been in the works for many years. That was not news.

McDonough-Wainwright nodded with deep consideration. “Certainly, our soldiers are, here, well supplied and maintain several depots and caches of supplies throughout the region. Brady, here, is one of the largest forward bases from San Angelo, the rest of the area to our north and east are simply Limitanei areas.”

“I am aware, Tribunus. Thank you.” Licinius said. “Housing will certainly be a secondary issue, I can imagine, however, we are in dire need of grain and meat supply. Mostly for canned packaging.”

“Most undoubtedly. San Angelo is far better equipped in the packing industry than we are here, Prefect. But we do have our own industry, ran, most ably by our own Lord Waterman Swallow, my adopted son and heir.” Lady McCullough said, with a turn and nod to her adopted son who nodded with his own smile. “I am sure that our packaging facilities can be used for produced required for military services.”

“Good, certainly. Soldiers aren’t picky certainly with the food variety, mainly whatever fills their stomachs and whatever meat they can get, even if in small amounts.”

“Don’t forget the bloody rum rations! That’ll keep any soldier fit to fight for days.” MDoungh-Wainwright interjected, with a hearty laugh. He was joined by several of the other military members, then the rest of the group joined in.

“Without question, Tribunus.” Licinius replied still grinning. “That will certainly help in that regard, however, that is not entire the necessity. Soldiers embarking into the field will need that, soldiers in their encampments will not as much. They will be wanted and requiring fresher foods, foods they can often cook themselves. This region is the breadbasket, as such I am sure that they should not be going starving. However, we do need to worry some about the effect on trade with the rest of the nation.”

Lady McCullough nodded her head. Seeing the issue plainly now. This wasn’t just a minor military operation that was going on. This would be major. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, would be marching this way and all along the borders areas to the north of them. Feeding them, arming them and equipping them was the most important priority for the Legate next to her and to the Prefect across from her. These concerns were no doubt straight from Nova Roma itself. This wasn’t a simply operation. This was an invasion.

Lady McCullough turned again to her nephew and adopted heir. “Constans, you certainly have the best knowledge of our County’s stores.”

“Certainly. We have several months stored in case of any famine or pest destroys our crop fields. Certainly many of the nobles have plenty of stock available for sale, not to mention the yeomans.” He replied airily.

“Quite. Our stock yield will diminish without question, but it should harm our exporting to the rest of the nation for too long. You could expect shortages, Prefect.”

“We will certainly have to rely on other parts of the nation to handle the load as well, not all certainly on us, to say the least.” Licinius replied.

“Oh, I would most certainly hope to God for that,” Lady McCullough said with a brief laugh. “When the expected troops would arrive, you can be certain that there will be enough product to go around.”

“Very good.” Replied Licinius who glanced now over to McDonough-Wainwright and slide across a sealed large envelope. “Then, Tribunus, this is for you, preparations for your men to move out into the field should begin as soon as possible, in line with these orders.

McDonough-Wainwright nodded seriously and slide the envelope to his side. “My forward units are already prepared, the rest will be ready as soon as the command comes to them.”

---

Approaching the Northern Border, Imperium Romanum
Legio Mariae de Mercede IV

Laurentinus Samus trudged forward, his head down, weighed down by the heavy infantryman’s load that he carried. Samus was an pedes, private or infantryman, in the Legio Mariae. His red uniform jacket was covered with dirt and dust, and his sweat tricked down from under his brown felt hat. It was a good thing they wore those. Those wide brimmed hat kept the sun out of his eyes and face, and did make it seem cooler. A hell of a lot better than wearing that damned helmet he thought. The one that clanked along his with the rest of his kit strapped to his back. The helmet was heavy, and didn’t seem to quite fit the head of the 19 year old man from the city of Odessa.

He and his unit had been marching for days now. The long sun-filled days scorched down, even though it wasn’t terribly hot, it wasn’t summer, the long days out in the sun certainly made it feel hot. Then at night, with the sun gone, the air grew colder, the chill reaching all of them. This was certainly not a fun outing. Add in the occasional run in with the various desert creatures, the radscorpions and geckos that loved to scrounge the soldiers good and attack the unwary soldier, forcing him to report to medical for some days made the entire trip completely unpleasant.

Samus had been lucky so far. Lucky or smart. Either way he had managed to avoid most of the unpleasantries that came with long marches, rationed canned food and living in tents. No illness, no cramps, no sprains or anything so far for the young man. So far, he thought. He knew though he couldn’t keep on carrying on like this, not forever. At the same time, he had no desire to stop anywhere around here. There was practically nothing. Occasionally their road would pass through some small town or other, one that was actually occupied and hard folk stared at them with hardly a recognition of pride or praise on their faces. Nothing really out here to be happy about. But still, he still felt that he truly, really couldn’t carry on anymore.

Nonetheless Samus had continued to trudge forward, mindlessly tramping through the virtual wilderness, you could hardly call whatever this trail was a real road, with the attitude and mind of a true legionary. There was a sudden call from behind him, one of his officers, the Ducenarius by the name of Wilson Ableton.

“Clear the road!”

Samus turned as he stepped dutifully to the side as he saw a cloud of dust coming towards him. As it drew near he saw the figures of the equites riding through the now cleared path, as shouts from the officers continued on down the line in front of him. Samus stared up through with a dirt covered face and through the dust thrown up by the hooves of the horse, at the cavalrymen. Like virtually everyone in the infantry he disliked the cavalry on a matter of principle. Look at those bastards, all high and damnably mighty while we slog our way forward, he thought to himself as he closed back into ranks, the shouts of his circitor driving back into the line and back to moving forward.

“Bloody cav.” A man next to Samus said spitting out dirt as he spoke. This was one of his fellow pedes, a another young man of around 19 by the name of Daniel Pinkston. Or “Pinky” as they all called him.

“Yea’, actin’ all mightier than us lot, like we ain’t even the shit from their ‘orses.” Said a voice directly behind them. This was Claudia Callahan, a slightly more senior enlisted rank at semissalis. It didn’t really provide her with that much extra authority other than better pay, even though she did do her best to flaunt her position and authority whenever she could. Mainly when the real officers and NCO’s weren’t around.

“Damned bitches too, I bet. Real fightin’ always boils down to us infantry. They’ll run faster ‘n’ wind when the shootin’ comes. All those damn aristocrats ain’t got a real stomach for a fight.” Samus joined in.

“You won’t say that when we get where we goin’.” Another, louder more commanding voice, boomed out. It was Circitor Adams, one of the only real combat veterans of the unit. “True ‘nuff. When the shootin’ starts, we’ll do the work. But the equites are our eyes and hears. Not to mention shockers. Without ‘em, we’d be blinder than bats.”

The group fell silent and Adams moved up the line, spitting out a few sharp words at anyone that appeared slacking out of formation.

“You think it’s true, mate?” Callahan said, her voice barely higher than a whisper. Samus turned back to take a brief look at her, a bit of confusion on his face. He glanced at her dirt and sweat lined face, strands of her hair had fallen out of what was once a professional-style bun and now were stuck across her face.

“Is what?”

“Oh, for Christ sake, Sammy, the rumours o’ course.” She said and Samus turned back, he knew what she was on about now. It was what everyone was thinking, the secrecy and attitude of the senior officers were suspicious and the rumour mills had been at work. Most of them saying the same thing, they were heading to war. Maybe not straight to a battle, but certainly to fight someone, and no raider band or large group of ferals this time. Something a lot more real. Some said they were going to fight the Royals, other said the Reds. By the way they were marching, the Reds did seem like a far likelier enemy, but, well, as they said, you never know.

Samus stared forward still, silent for a moment. “Gotta be, right? Even what Adams was sayin’. Oh yeah, we definitely gotta be marchin’ to war.”

“I ‘ope so. And I wanna take down those damn Reds, too.” Pinkston chimed in now. The others around him grunted in agreement. There was no love for the Reds. Very little love for the Royals for that matter, either. But at least they seemed to have morals, identities. The Reds were a bunch of godless, heathen bastards. Ones who wanted to destroy everything about the Roman Empire. Destroy the sacred and holy sites of the Roman Catholic Church. The great Eternal City, if the Reds had their way, would be extinguished. And that to these proud Romans all of them, was simply unthinkable.

“Well, we marchin’ north ain’t we?” Samus said. The others grunted and nodded again. He smiled, “Then, if we are marchin’ to war, and I bet a fiver we are, then it seems like we are at the time to crush those barbarian bastards out of this world.”

---

Towards the rear of the same marching line rode the Legate Praefect, Sandra Claudia Apollonia. She knew the answers to the questions that she knew only too well that were being passed back and forth among the men and women under her command. At nearly 40, Praefect Apollonia had served as a junior NCO in the foederati during the Conquest. Before that she had briefing fought a few battles in the Republican Army’s militia, before their unit commanders had switched sides to ally with the Romans and against their former government. This had obviously caused some tension, but Apollonia had realized the situation and was quick to back her district’s militia and political leaders against the National Republican Army that still remained. When they, and all those that had fought and served with them, had received Roman citizenship she had quickly joined the Legionaries. She knew having fought alongside, and even earlier on against, that there was nothing that matched the professionalism and ability of the Legionaries.

Apollonia had grown up the daughter of a rather well to do farmer, but had never taken personally to that lifestyle. The Republican life was different from that of the Royals. Everyone had a fair chance, was the idea, and no one, by birth, could have the control over any other. It was supposed to be an egalitarian society, one that did not live up to that expectation. It was certainly egalitarian, as in most of the society survived on subsistence agriculture or hard labor in mines or in the cities with little pay and worse living conditions. So for her, her lifestyle was one of relative luxury. It certainly wasn’t a noble one, but one that was remarkably better than most, even if she did dream of someday become a noblewoman.

Now, after many years of hard service to her country and Emperor, she had gained much of that position. With the title of Legate, she had been granted her own plot of land, some miles outside the town of Midland. It wasn’t top quality farming land, but it was decent for ranching and a small private income, that supplemented her much better pay as a senior officer. She wasn’t by any means, a member of the nobility, only the lower landed aristocracy, but that, along with everything else, would certainly come in time. There was nothing like the conquering of a new territory and the spreading of spoils of war to the gallant officers who had won that war.

Apollonia stared out at the long line of trudging soldiers, a long thought entering her brain of her own time when she also marched in those lines as one of the many “grunts” of the pedes. It was the this understanding and connection that had made her so popular with the soldiers. A gritty toughness, lacking the sophistication and mightier-than-thou attitude that many of the noble legates and commanders had in their relation to the dirt-eating infantry. She understood their conditions, knew their complaints and was also there, able to talk to. For Apollonia, she relished the ability to talk with many of the junior officers and enlisted soldiers. It made them more dedicated and loyal, knowing their commander had their back, making them have hers all the more. Not to mention, having a legion loyal to you, well, you never know when that might be important in the future.

She was snapped from her trip down memory line by the arrival of a junior staff officers, one of the many equites runners. He rode up, snapping off a salute, one she returned smoothly.

“Madame Legate, a message from headquarters. Generalis Mesquita sends his compliments.” He said, corralling the panting horse as he moved in closer. Apollonia kept her horse in formation and line, steady forward as she held out her hand and took the message with a nod. He keep the horse alongside, slightly behind. Good form, understands the position and where to be, she thought, as she opened the message. Generalis Mesquita was supposed to be some miles to the northwest. Well by now, mostly just west, in the town of Hobbs in former New Mexico, heading towards Denver City with the Far Western Legionaries and one of the regiments of Foederati that would all serve under his direct command. The invasion being, first and foremost, his show. One he would certainly not miss for the world.

Most of the message was standard affair, placement of where her legion was to be expected, and where to wait. A call for a meeting of the high command and Legion officers in preparation, and finally, the date for the planned operation and Codename. Most of it didn’t stick out, and for a second she wondered why this message was even delivered, by hand no less, while on the march. She realized that not only was he not at Hobbs, but closer, the words of where her legion would be diverted finally stuck out. Castrum Issac A. Denton. The forward base along the western fringe of where the main assault towards Lubbock had been originally slated. And she realized what that meant. Her legion, the Legio Mariae de Mercede IV was not to be the cover for the flank, but was now position to make the main forward assault, straight across the desert and border. The tip of the spear for the invasion.

She smiled softly to herself for a moment, and turned back to the runner, squinting at the sun now in her eyes and she lowered her head slightly so the brim of her felt hat would cover the sun.

“Are you returning to the Generalis’s headquarters promptly?” She asked. She did her best to hide her more country-plain accent in comparison to most of her peers high-class sophisticated accents, and was usually successful, except when excited.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied.

“Very well, if you need rations or water, you can find them along the line to the rear in the supply train, as well as a fresh horse, should you be desiring that. Give the Generalis my compliments and inform him, we will arrive to our destination under time and under budget.” She said with a soft smile.

“Very well, thank you, ma’am.” He said with a salute, one she returned again, and he started off down the line for water and a fresh horse.
“Anything important, ma’am.” The voice next to her belong to her senior staff officers, and one of her longest serving companions in the army and in combat, and arguably one of her closest friends. She turned to face him, a Centurion by the name of Tomas Robago. Now, she wasn’t even trying to stop herself from smiling.

“Mesquita has seen it fit to change our position in the line of battle. Come the dawn of our invasion, we will be taking point.” She paused and watched as the Centurion took it in. “With God’s grace and some luck, the glory will be ours, Tomas.”