In The Name of Rome (AMW Only)

[-Roma Invicta-]

Quintus Horatius Saturninus, Consul of Rome
Curia Romanum, Rome
Monday 10th December 2018, 1900hrs Local Time

Quintus Horatius Saturninus paced across the wide open floor of his office within the Curia Romanum, the building that had been built to replace the old Curia Julia, in the classical Roman style, and was home to not only the Senate, and officers for the Senators, but the offices and support staff for the two Consuls of Rome, of which Horatius Saturninus was one. From his window he could see, in daytime anyway, the majesty of the Forum Romanum, with the various Basilicas housing magisterial departments, the Temples dedicated to various Gods in the Roman Pantheon, and other majestic, important buildings that housed the beating heart of the Roman State, the most prominent of which was, of course, the Curia Romanum. It was no coincidence that all major state activities, domestic and foreign, were conducted here, in the very heart of the Eternal City. Despite the auspicious surroundings, and the comforting view of Rome’s lights twinkling in the darkness outside his window, his mind was ill at ease. The Senate, after breaking for the weekend, had resumed its now two-month old debate on Discharge Grants for Legion Veterans, and as pretty much everyone had expected was still getting absolutely nowhere.

The issue at hand was simple enough; upon the end of a full ‘career’ in Roman Army, either the Legions or the Auxiliary Forces, the retiring soldier, as a reward for his more arduous lifestyle compared to the Navy or the Volantes (Air Force), got a choice between a land grant or a discharge bonus (praemia), whereas the Navy and Volantes veterans could only choose the discharge bonus. Whilst many veterans choose the bonus, which had been re-instituted after the great Roman (re)conquest of Spain had ended, many more had chosen the land grant as part of the steady policy of Romanisation that had always been part and partial of Rome’s conquests; by installing their own citizens, and military veterans at that, into conquered territories it not only decreased the risk of revolt but aided in the expansion of Roman culture and values. That had all been well and gone when were had been vast swathes of public land in Hispania and southern Gaul, however over recent years the amount of public land had decreased steadily, between the vast estates favoured by the Senatorial order and the smallholdings granted to the veteran there wasn’t much left. This posed a problem, for many retiring veterans still preferred the land grant over the discharge bonus.

There had been some thought given, initially, to doing away with the land grant entirely, even if it meant increasing the discharge bonus to compensate. The Comitia Civis, Rome’s principle representative body for its citizens (having replaced the other Assembly, save for the Plebeian Council which represented all commoners, citizen and non citizen alike), had reluctantly agreed to such a compromise; after all the average discharge bonus for even a legionary still amounted to 2,250 denarius (equal to ten years wages, or over two hundred thousand standard dollars,) more than enough to buy, outright, at least a small flat or home in Italia. Veterans that accepted the discharge bonus might not have land to their name, but they would have a roof above their head that belonged to them they they did not have to rent, in Italia no less, and for some this was enough. Sure, many still favoured the land grant, even in foreign lands, as land was the path to true prosperity in the Republic, one way or another, even if it was in far off lands in the provinces. However, when the Praetor Pecunia, the executive magistrate responsible for finance and commerce, had prepared a report for the Senate on just how much it would cost to give every retiring soldier the discharge bonus, it had quickly become obvious that it was not a viable option, certainly not if there was to be an increase.

This had left the Senate, and the People of Rome, back at square one when it came to solving this conundrum. Really it was something that they should have seen coming, after all the public land had always been a finite resource and there was no excuse for a collective failure to face the issue until it had become an issue. Sure, more and more veterans had been taking the bonus, after all in the modern age far more people were concerned about stability than about social advancement, but that had only slowed the problem, not removed it.

Of course the next potential solution, which had formed the current rift between the Senate and and the Comitia Civis, was one that Horatius Saturninus saw dangerous parallels with history. A Plebeian Tribune, the magistrates whose duty was to protect the interests of the plebs, had suggested that the wealthy land-owning class could exchange some of their land for patronage, not true rent but some form of tribute for giving up their land. Well, this had caused an uproar in the Senate. After all, the Senatorial Class were forbidden by law to take part in commerce or banking, in order to retain their ethical standing, and as such their wealth, which their very status in the Senatorial Class depended upon, was drawn from the rent paid by tenants, farmers and residents, on their land. If they gave up their land, for a pittance of their normal rent, then they would be at a significant disadvantage and risked losing their status. It was the age-old problem of land reform in the Roman Republic, and whilst the modern Republic was a true democracy, rather than a disguised oligarchy, the problem still remained. The issue of land reform had directly lead to the downfall of the Republic and Horatius Saturninus was determined to not see that repeated, not on his watch. He knew that those veterans that still sought land were prepared to go to the far reaches of the provinces to get it, but there simply wasn’t enough left.

The weary Consul stopped before the expansive world map that adorned one of the walls of his office and considered it. Rome’s territory spread throughout Italy, southern Gaul and into Hispania, with holdings on Cyprus and Malta, a few enclaves in North Africa, and several island colonies in the Caribbean. It was through these distant holdings that the Republic spread its trade and commerce that maintained its economic strength, guarded and protected by the Roman Military, but even the space in these holdings was running out as they had long ago been settled by Romans during their Romanisation process. What was needed was more land, but in many ways Rome had become complacent as their current holdings had satisfied them up until this point, but now the question truly had to be asked… did the old Roman pastime of conquest need to be revived. It was the only solution, really, Horatius Saturninus thought to himself as he looked at the map, so many areas unclaimed save by barbarians who had failed to form cohesive nation-states, or weak ones with very little integration into the global order. The kind of states that could be picked off by a larger, more powerful state, and were unlikely to result in confrontation with another state, not that Rome was averse to conflict, but conflict would put at risk the very purpose of the theoretical conquest.

The sparsely populated land along the northern border of South America were tempting, that would provide public land for generations, but taking that much land so quickly was a gamble. What Horatius Saturninus needed, if he was to get this mental exercise of his off the ground, was something smaller, easier… something he could use as a proof of concept. He knew that he was proposing the first major Roman Conquest in over a century, but he had the weight of history and precedent behind him, and it would, after all, solve all of their problems for the moment.

Horatius Saturninus had a military pedigree, he had attended the Roman Military Academy from the age of sixteen before being posted to the Thirteenth Legion as its senior Tribune, holding several such positions over the course of ten years before being successfully elected Quaestor in Rome. After his term of office had ended, and he had been appointed to the Senate in his own right, Horatius Saturninus had resumed his military career and had served as Legatus of the Tenth, and later the Seventh Legion. He had returned to Rome at the age of thirty-six when he became eligible for the next step on the Cursus Honorum (Course of Offices) and been elected Aedile, within the Basilica Militum as Aedile for Military Planning, before a final two-year stint as a Legion Commander before being elected Praetor, and being assigned by the Senate and People of Rome as the Praetor Militum, the executive magistrate in day-to-day command of Rome’s Military, being afar and away the best qualified and temperamentally suited of all the Praetors elected that year to be put in charge of the Roman Military. He knew what he would be getting Rome into, committing to a new campaign of conquests would likely put Rome at odds with its neighbours, and yet he would rather a foe from without than unrest within.

His musings were disturbed when he heard steps on the marble floor of the corridor outside his office and glanced away from the map in time to watch as Decimus Galerius Albinus, his co-Consul, enter his office. The two men clasped forearms before one of Horatius Saturninus’ servants entered the room with a decanter of wine, pouring two glasses for the Consuls before withdrawing.

“Are they still at it?” Horatius Saturninus asked quietly.

“Unfortunately so, my friend,” Galerius Albinus scowled, the two Consuls were lucky enough to be in the minority of Consular pairings who had been friends prior to being elected, so had enjoyed a good working relationship. “Celsus and his lot are up in arms now.”

“No doubt wanting to maintain their substantial holdings in central Italy, the size of some Senatorial estates in Italia cannot help but sometimes be seen to be pushing the limits of taste,” Horatius Saturninus commented wryly. “However, I think that I may have come up with a solution… we need land, so we need to go and get ourselves more land… we take what we need and grant land out there.”

“Just like back in the day,” Galerius Albinus nodded slowly. “The world has changed, Quintus.”

“Perhaps, that’s why I’m thinking somewhere that is non-aligned; the other powers might protest but I doubt they’ll try and stop us,” Horatius Saturninus replied firmly. “And if they do, well, we’d need to remind them that Rome is not to be interfered with, or opposed.”

“You have somewhere in mind, I suppose?”

“I do, I needed somewhere small and self-contained at first, a proof of concept if you like,” Horatius Saturninus nodded, glancing back at the map having just made up his mind. “So, my dear friend, Decimus, what do you know of the island of Madagascaria?”

Tribune (Senior Grade) Appius Fabius Catulus
Aden, The Marimaian Caliphate
Tuesday 11th December 2018

Appius Fabius Catulus was eternally grateful, as he sat in a private booth with a very attractive young Arabian woman, for the Marimaian Caliphate’s moderate brand of Islam, and in particular the port of Aden’s long experience dealing with sailors on shore leave. It would have been a piss-poor assignment otherwise. As it was he was able to still enjoy the nightlife, and enjoy the company of a, generally, very attractive race of women, despite being nearly three thousand miles away from home (and the buzzing nightlife of modern Rome). Of course it did not help that the Roman presence in Aden was something of a stand-out compared with the rest of the region, meaning that for some women (and, to be fair, some of the men when confronted with female sailors from the naval squadron based in the port), the allure of something unusual was very much present. The Standing Orders for both the Roman posts out here strictly expected all personnel to exercise appropriate cultural respect as, although the rest of the Marimaian Caliphate was known to be moderate, the Emirate of Adan were more traditional in their attitudes and no one wanted to offend the locals over excessive libido. The unspoken understanding, however, was that clubs were clubs and that what happened in them, or as a result of them, was accepted (or at least tolerated).

After all, and Rome had been very firm on the matter when briefing Fabius Catulus, the importance of respecting local customs and not causing an incident was of the highest importance. Not only was the friendship between Rome and Cairo of top importance, for strategic reasons, but the Roman military presence in and around Aden was essential for operational reasons. The naval squadron based out of Aden was tasked with protecting Roman merchant shipping in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, by no means a small responsibility. Moreover, Castrum Eudaemon (named for the original Greek name for the city) was a small but key forward base for the Roman Army. It was home to two principle units; the first was Cohors IV Praetoria, the 4th Cohort of the Praetorian Guard. The modern Praetorian Guard was Rome’s military intelligence branch, and whilst it may have lost some of its historic reputation for political involvement, and rightfully so, it’s reputation for efficiency and was widely respected, indeed the 1st Cohort (which was responsible for internal security) still retained some of the ‘fear’ aspect of the Guard’s historical reputation, albeit for their ruthlessness in chasing down threats to the Republic rather than for being a threat to the Republic.

The second unit was Fabius Catulus’; part of headquarters element for the 9th Legion. When this arrangement with the Caliphate had been made it had been deemed undesirable, from a optics perspective, to put an entire Roman Legion in a foreign country, however Rome had wanted to ensure that it could use Castrum Eudaemon as a jumping off point for operations East of Suez if the need arose, so a compromise had been reached. In addition to the Praetorian Cohort, which had always been part of the deal, Rome would also station a small legion headquarters in Aden, along with significant prepositioning supplies and assets on an airfield outside the city (which Rome had built and paid for). The idea being that the Deputy Legion Commander, and the Staff Tribunes for Operations and Intelligence, along with a small group of Auxiliary intelligence and operations specialists, would work alongside the Praetorians to prepare for the arrival of the full legion in the run up to to a campaign. This left the Legion Commander, who often had other duties in Rome, back home, along with the Staff Tribunes for Personnel and Logistics, and the Camp Prefect and the Legion First Spear, to take care of the legion and, if necessary, prepare it for deployment to Eudaemon.

Of course in reality, given that Rome had very little interests East of Suez at this point, it was a quiet posting for the 9th’s propositioning leadership element. Technically speaking the Deputy Legion Commander, in this case none other than one Appius Fabius Catulus, being a Senior Tribune, outranked the ‘Junior’ Tribune in command of the Praetorian Cohort, and as such was officially the Senior Officer of the Castrum. In reality, however, the Praetorian Tribune had risen through the ranks and was many years his elder, and as such Fabius Catulus had the sense to keep out of the way of the Praetorian commander except when necessary. As such Fabius Catulus’ days were mostly spent reviewing intelligence and preparedness reports and being responsible for awful lot of paperwork which, Fabius Catulus noted on numerous occasions everyday, his Praetorian subordinate was more than happy to allow him to take control over.

It was perhaps, therefore, not surprising that Fabius Catulus enjoyed a night out as much as the next Roman, after all his days were on the boring side of dull. Fortunately, the two staff tribunes were as bored as he was, and although they were not of the senatorial class like Fabius Catulus himself, they were at the least Equestrian, which meant that it was socially acceptable to socialise with them. They were also about the same age as he, Rome’s military tribunes were made up of the best and brightest minds taught strategy at the Roman Military Academy; what they lacked in experience they made up for in training and theory, and were more than adequately complemented by the vastly experienced Centurions, all of whom had come up from the ranks. Fabius Catulus was a bright young man, however for all his instructors at the Roman Military Academy had praised his instincts and his knack for strategy, they had despaired at his lack of drive and motivation. It was in no small part that they had arranged for him to receive this assignment; for although dull in peacetime if the balloon went up and the Legion had to deploy operationally it would be a change for the young Senior Tribune to proof himself under fire, and hopefully kick his ass into gear.

And, as it happened, Fabius Catulus’ war was on his way.

His attention was drawn away from the Arabian woman as he heard commotion, even against the background of the music, and looked up to see the crowds being parted by security making a direct line for him. He rose, assuming that someone had taken a disliking to the attention he, a Roman, was showing the young woman but was infinitely more surprised when he laid eyes upon a Praetorian Centurion, in full service dress uniform, complete with a pistol in a leather holster on his belt. It was obvious that the officer had wanted to avoid any delays, and figured that showing up in full uniform was the best way to get co-operation from the local bouncers (correctly, as it seemed). Fabius Catulus frowned as the Centurion stopped before him and saluted crisply, if the experienced officer had any disapproval of the younger Tribune he did not allow it to show on his expression.

“Tribune, I have orders from my command to effect you return to the Castrum as soon as possible, we’ve received a general signal from Rome” The Centurion explained, leaning closer to ensure that he was not overheard, given he had quite an audience. “I have been advised to tell you that this message was sent with the highest priority, and that your response is required as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course, Centurion,” Fabius Catulus nodded, shaking his head to try to clear his mind of the intoxication, only partially successful of course but helped by the adrenaline now beginning to surge through his system. “Lead the way.”

[-Roma Invicta-]

Tribune (Senior Grade) Appius Fabius Catulus
Aden, The Marimaian Caliphate
Tuesday 11th December 2018

Fabius Catulus and the Praetorian Centurion made their way quickly past the bouncers, and the large queue outside, and into the waiting Puma armoured utility vehicle that was favoured by cavalry and special forces (which in Roman parlance meant the Praetorian Guard and the Special Operations Legion) units, and by the Legions as very utilitarian versions of staff cars. Waiting in the back of the vehicle was the Legion’s Staff Tribune for Operations and Fabius Catulus’ orderly, one of the benefits of his rank was an Immune, an experienced enlisted soldier paid extra and excepted from more mental tasks due to a special skill set or appointment, as his personal aide, who was holding a suit career containing a service uniform. The Tribune gratefully accepted the uniform from his orderly, and quickly got about stripping out of the shirt and slacks he had worn to the club and began pulling on his uniform as quickly as possible. As he did so he wondered what the hell was going on, after all sending in a uniformed officer to collect the senior Roman Military Officer in Aden was hardly subtle, and the Marimaian authorities would know the Romans were up to something almost immediately. Moreover, Fabius Catulus had identified the Praetorian as Tiberius Germinius Helva, the Cohorts First Spear; it’s senior Centurion, and most experienced officer.

One he was suitably attired, and actually looked like the senior officer he was, Fabius Catulus turned his attention on Germinus Helva.

“What in the name of all of the gods is going on?” Fabius Catulus asked mildly

“We’ve received a flash signal from the Basilica Militum, from what my Tribune said it seems that one of the Consuls has got himself a bright idea and whatever that may be it is East of Suez,” Germinus Helva replied, now that they were safely in private, with only Roman military personnel able to hear, the Praetorian was able to explain in more detail. “All that we know at the moment is that the 9th Legion has been ordered to assume its prepositioning stance, that means that very soon we’re going to be getting a lot of company.”

Fabius Catulus nodded; this was literally what the Castrum had been established for. The Legion moving into its prepositioning positions pretty much guaranteed that they were going to be operationally deployed. Although the agreement with the Caliphate had been made with the understanding that it was a prepositioning base, which meant that at some point or another there would be a major military buildup on-base. However, it stood to reason that such build-ups were to be avoided where possible, meaning that if the Legion was moved into preposition then it would be very unlikely for it to be stood-down and returned home. This was a good thing, as getting the entire Legion out here was no mean feat, after all it entailed bringing not only thousands of personnel but also dozens of tanks, legionary fighting vehicles and supplies, and that wasn’t counting any follow-on troops that were routed through the Castrum. Maintaining the optics with the Caliphate’s population would be important for the long-term viability of the base, and a close co-operation with the Caliphate military would aid in that, it was just good courtesy in any event, after all Rome was about to dump a not-not-insignificant amount of military force in the Caliphate’s backyard, albeit temporarily.

“Okay, let’s get in touch with our Military Attache in Cairo, now I’m sure that the Caliph’s intelligence services are going to let him know that something is going on with us after tonight, but let’s go ahead and let him know formally,” Fabius Catulus commented thoughtfully, as the senior Roman Officer in the Caliphate he could that decision. “I would imagine that they’ll want to station an Observer, or Liaison Officer, with us to keep an eye on what we’re up to, so make sure that we’ve got all the necessary clearances ready for whoever they send.”

The Germinus Helva nodded, the request for clearance for a Caliphate Officer would go through the Praetorian Cohort anyway, so it did not hurt for Fabius Catulus to get a head start on getting that sorted. Next, however, he turned to the Staff Tribune, Gnaeus Salvius Lupus.

“I know they’re not going to like it, but once we get back to the base I want you to wake everyone up; we need to erect the tent farm and perform some routine heritability checks,” Fabius Catulus ordered crisply. “I also want a detail to go through the armoury and perform a full check on all weapons, the Camp Prefect is going to want a firm idea of the status of all the equipment we have on-site.”

The Camp Prefect had a complicated relationship with the Legion’s Deputy Commander. Typically the Camp Prefect was a former First Spear, the senior Centurion within the Legion, and as such was an officer of significant experience, compared to the senatorial Military Tribune who had a great deal of training and strategic education but very little experience. The senior Tribune was there to learn from the Legatus how to command a Legion, either to provide them with the skills and experience needed to pursue a Legion Command themselves or to further their political career. The Camp Prefect was there to oversee the day-to-day running of the Legion, he served as the Legion’s Quartermaster, oversaw the maintenance of the Camp’s buildings and ensured that the Legion’s training standards were maintained. However, it would be the senior Tribune that assumed command of the Legion in the event of the death or absence of the Legatus, not the Camp Prefect, however only a foolish senior Tribune would ignore the experience of the Prefect, and few Tribunes would want to get on the wrong side of him either. In this case, Fabius Catulus had spent enough time deliberately learning the Camp Prefect’s role to know what he could do to help get things ready for the Legion’s arrival.

“Do we have any information on exactly where we’re deploying?” Fabius Catulus glanced at Germinius Helva.

“Rome is being very close-lipped about that,” Germinius Helva shook his head. “Either because they want to keep it secret, or the Consuls aren’t sure exactly where they’re going yet.”

“I’m not sure if that is encouraging or not,” Fabius Catulus replied dryly. “I take it we’ve got a general idea.”

“My Cohort has been ordered to review all of our intelligence, and prepare a briefing for your Legatus, on all the states and non-cohesive areas, along the rim of the Indian Ocean,” Germinius Helva nodded. “That leaves all of India, East Africa and the East Indies, whilst there’s some states we can realistically take off the target list, but never the less its still quite a long list, all things considered.”

“Agreed,” Fabius Catulus nodded slowly. “Well, we can’t get caught up on where we are going, so let’s concentrate on being ready.”

The two officers in the back of the Puma with him nodded their heads in agreement. It wasn’t really any of their places to question any more on the subject, rather their job was to get the Legion ready to go whenever it was directed to. More than likely they would be the vanguard of any assault, after all although a Legion was a formidable military force in its own right it was, ultimately, just five thousand combat soldiers plus auxiliary drivers and support personnel, a major invasion of even the smallest adversary would require more troops. A general rule-of-thumb, one adopted by the Roman Military Academy, was to ensure a strength superiority, where possible, of 3-1 to minimise losses, and the higher strength superiority a command could attain the better. The Roman Military used a number of force multipliers, such as artillery, air support and adequate battlefield intelligence, but nothing could beat the raw advantage of having more troops than the enemy. The added auxiliary cohorts that would deploy with the 9th Legion, and any other legions that were deployed, would make up the Legion Battlegroup (roughly equivalent to a Division) of approximately ten thousand combat troops, but Fabius Catulus knew that, for himself, he would much prefer another legion or two at his back.

It was hardly the time of year or any of this, religiously speaking. For the pagans, who made up approximately forty percent of the Republic’s population it was the run up to the week-long Saturnalia, the world-renowned festival of Saturn which saw a carnival-atmosphere and the reversal of standard social norms. For the Christians, who made up approximately thirty percent of the population, it was a few weeks before Christmas. Not exactly the best time to be starting a war, and yet Fabius Catulus knew there was a very pressing reason why it needed to be now. The terms of office of the Rome’s executive magistrates would lapse at midnight at New Year’s Even and the terms of the new magistrates would then begin, at which point the existing magistrates would take up pro-magistrate positions. Whatever was going on it seemed that one of the Consuls was leading the charge, and as such the political impetus would only last as long as that Consul remained in office, unless followed through by the same man as a Proconsul. As such the timing was crucial; to be considered ‘legal’ the conflict would have to begin whilst the current Consuls were in office, with command of the operation being transferred from Consular to Proconsular at the appropriate moment.

It was, of course, far from ideal, and yet it was the situation they had found themselves in.

Truth be told Fabius Catulus was curious to discover what was actually going on; the latest intelligence brief from the Praetorian Guard had not indicated any sort of impending threat from anywhere in their area of responsibility, so it made no sense that Rome would suddenly deploy an entire legion battlegroup… unless something else was afoot. It would have been nice to have known exactly what was going on, but the Consuls were likely still building a consensus in the Senate, and the Comitia Civis, for whatever military action they were proposing and did not want to risk showing their hand by spreading word of their plans around. It was unlikely that it would make any difference in the long-run, but Rome had not built several vast territorial ‘empires’ over its history by being loose-lipped about military affairs, or by giving adversaries any advantage that they did not already have.

So Fabius Catulus would do what he could for the moment, confident that the Consuls, or at the very least his Legatus, would let him know what was going on when he needed to know.

Quintus Horatius Saturninus, Consul of Rome
Basilica Militum, Rome
Wednesday 12th December 2018

Horatius Saturninus and Galerius Albinus strode up the steps of the Basilica Militum, the nerve centre of the Roman Military, together as they made their way towards the briefing to which the two Consuls had been invited. The Praetor Militum, Publius Cassius Varus, the magistrate in day-to-day command of the Roman Military, had been working with the planning staff at the Basilica Militum to refine the contingency plan relating to Madagascar. The Roman War Staff maintained hundreds of contingency plans, ranging from a joint naval and air operation to ensure absolute dominance of the Mediterranean Sea to invasion plans for every country or territory on the surface of the planet. Part of the work of the War Staff was to keep these plans up to date, on the basis of routine intelligence updates provided b the Praetorian Guard, and once word had reached the Praetor Militum about what the Consuls had planned he had pulled out all the stops for the War Staff to quickly review the plans to see whether there would be a need for prolonged period of review or whether they could proceed based on the existing plans. As it happened, Madagascar was regularly reviewed due to the potential need to control the shipping lanes around the Cape of Good Hope and the Mozambique Channel.

The two Consuls made their way through the wide, majestic corridors of the Basilica Militum, the walls decorated with artwork, classical and modern, depicting Roman military victories from across the centuries, as well as portraits of Roman Generals, underlining the military tradition that Rome had maintained throughout the ages. These corridors were ones they both knew well after a year’s service as Rome’s commanders-in-chief, and after other military service at the highest levels for Horatius Saturnatus (indeed even Galerius Albinus, like many highborn Romans, had undergone military service in the cavalry prior to entering politics), they were very familiar with the layout of the Basilica Militum. Their destination was the Scipio Africanus Briefing Room, the usual venue for high-level briefings.

They were met in the briefing room by Cassius Varus and the war staff, introductions were made, for those that did not already know each other, and all took their seats as the Praetor took up his place at the front of the room by a large display which currently showed a birds-eye view of Madagascar.

“Honourable Consuls, thank you for taking the time from your schedules to allow us to brief you on our existing contingency plan for an invasion of Madagascaria, and how we envision using presently available assets for any operation you may order,” Cassius Varus began. “The plan I will present to you today concentrates solely on the initial invasion of Madagascaria, I’ve already activated a planning cell here at the Basilica Militum to begin work on a deployment plan for an occupation and assimilation of the island.”

Cassius Varus paused and glanced at the two Consuls who nodded their agreement and understanding.

“Our first objective is to secure a beachhead around the natural deepwater Antsiranana Bay, this will allow us to isolate a small enemy force and get our troops ashore avoiding the enemy troop concentrate around the Capital, further to the south,” Cassius Varus continued, gesturing to the display. “Once we’ve secured Antsiranana we can bring in additional forces and push southwards, clearing out any and all enemy forces before us before taking the Capital and establishing our own administration and begin the integration.”

Cassius Varus paused and activated an overlay on the display, showing all known positions of enemy military units or other assets.

“The Madagascaria Military is not exactly much to speak of; between ten and fifteen thousand ground troops, and maybe a thousand each for both the Navy and the Air Force; its essential a glorified security force designed to back up their National Police,” Cassius Varus explained. “They have half a dozen MiG-17 fighters, between two and free patrol boats, and one armoured brigade and two infantry brigades, the former is stationed around the Capital whilst the latter are split across the country, garrisoning major towns.”

“An armoured brigade, on an island that small?” Horatius Saturninus frowned. “That’s a lot of expense for such a small economy.”

“When I say armoured brigade I’m being generous,” Cassius Varus admitted. “They have twelve Digna main battle tanks, compared to a Legion’s sixty main battle tanks.”

Horatius Saturninus nodded and gestured for the other man to continue.

“We propose to deploy the Aircraft Carrier Aventine and her battlegroup to Madagascaria, upon arrival she’ll start an air campaign that we expect will take out all enemy aircraft, air defence and communications in the opening wave of the attacks,” Cassius Varus explained, gesturing as a new marker appeared on the screen and began to strike the existing markers. “Once we’ve degraded their air defence and command and control capabilities the Aventine’s air group will start going after the enemy’s ground troops, although we are assuming the enemy will be smart enough to start a dispersal plan and take their key assets, armour and artillery, under some form of cover.”

Cassius Varus paused as another naval marker sailed into the theatre on the display.

“Once the Nauarchus Princeps is satisfied that the Aventine has taken out the enemy’s ability to interfere with a landing we’ll move in the assault ship Vesuvius and land a cohort from the Amphibious Legion at Antsiranana,” Cassius Varus continued, showing both the cohort moving in and the shore batteries protecting the bay, which were taken out by naval bombardment. “Once the cohort has secured a landing strip we can start to bring in assets from the 9th Legion and it’s battlegroup… after that, we push south and secure the island.”

“It all sounds so simple,” Galerius Albinus commented with a wry smile. “But I spent enough time under the eagle to know it’s not.”

“Indeed, sir, that’s was the simplified version,” Cassius Varus smiled in return. “I’ll make sure to provide your offices with full copies of the operational plan.”

“Very good,” Galerius Albinus nodded, then glanced at his Co-Consul. “Well, Quintus, I’m onboard.”

“As am I… which I should be as this was my idea,” Horatius Saturninus laughed. “Alright then, let’s get to work on the Senate and the Comitia… we’ve got a lot of work to do if we’re to get a vote before the Saturnalia.”

Galerius Albinus nodded; the Saturnalia (the Festival of Saturn) was due to start in only five days, during which time the entire Roman state effectively shut down for a week of celebrations; one of the key prohibitions being that it was illegal to declare war or authorise military action during. Indeed, on the actual Festival Day (the 17th December) it was not the done thing to do pretty much anything aside from celebrate; and whilst the festival had long lasted up until the 23rd they could, at least, get back to work. For the civilian sector these ‘work days’ tended to be generally quite relaxed, not to mention usually paid double and holiday time fiercely fought over, but for the Military, their higher calling to defend the Republic meant that they got back to work; including, in theory, launching offensive action. The Senate, and the Comitia Civis, however, would not sit again until after Christmas, meaning that if the Consuls wanted to get their plan through the legislature they would need to do it in the next five days.

“We’ll probably need to call on you to address the Senate, Praetor,” Horatius Saturninus added, glancing across at Cassius Varus who nodded his understanding. “They’ll doubtless want to know the details of the operation, but we’ll make sure its in a closed session.”

“Good,” Cassius Varus nodded. “I’ll be there.”

[Marimaia]

Ministry of Defence and Military Production
Cairo, Marimaian Caliphate
12th December 2018

"Minister, this just came through."

Lieutenant General Hussein Al-Balawi nodded as he accepted the latest communique, the uniformed aide performing a sharp salute before leaving the well-appointed office. Aged sixty-six with slicked-back black hair, Al-Balawi was the Minister of Defence and Military Production for the Marimaian Caliphate, having held the office for twelve years thus far as part of Prime Minister Faysal Osman's government. While the Caliph was officially recognised as the supreme commander of the Caliphal Armed Forces (CAF), the Caliphate was a constitutional monarchy with a democratically elected government; this meant Lieutenant General Al-Balawi was the true day-to-day overseer of the Caliphate's military, as the Minister of Defence and Military Production also held the position of commander-in-chief. It was also part of the constitution that the Minister of Defence and Military Production had to be a current serving officer as the belief was that a serving officer would be better able to command the respect of the military, and there was also the idea that a serving officer would have a greater understanding of what the Caliphal Armed Forces required in terms of budgets, personnel, and materiel. Al-Balawi had demonstrated that this conventional wisdom was well-grounded in reality as his ministerial tenure had seen the continuation of the CAF's status as a well-trained and well-equipped professional force. Of course he had been assisted in this endeavour by his excellent working relationship with Prime Minister Osman, who viewed national defence as a top priority of his government.

He quickly read the communique and raised an eyebrow at the content. It was a formal notification regarding an intended military build-up by the Roman Republic, more specifically to be centered around the Roman facility in the autonomous Emirate of Adan. Al-Balawi was intrigued by the idea of the build-up as he could not immediately think of any potential target for Roman military action, and he was not about to see the build-up take place without having a Caliphal officer present to observe what the Romans were up to. After all, it was all well and good for Rome to potentially embark on military adventures but the Caliphate had interests of their own overseas and Al-Balawi thought it prudent to discover any potential issues for the Caliphate before they became a reality. However, before appointing a liaison officer to coordinate with (and keep an eye on) the intended Roman build-up in the Emirate of Adan, Al-Balawi would consult with Prime Minister Osman regarding the situation.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Almaza Air Base
Cairo, Marimaian Caliphate
16th December 2018

Major Rafiq Al-Iryani had been rather surprised to receive a request for a meeting with Lieutenant General Al-Bawali at short notice; the thirty year old had only recently been promoted to the rank of Major and therefore had not expected anything like the assignment that he had been handed by the Minister of Defence and Military Production. The Marimaian Caliphate enjoyed excellent relations with the Roman Republic but the intended military build-up in the Emirate of Adan had caused a great degree of interest on the part of Prime Minister Osman; as the duly-appointed Caliphal liaison officer to this Roman operation, Major Al-Iryani would be expected to not only observe Roman activities but also to express any Caliphal concerns which might arise at any point during said activities. Major Al-Iryani recognised that one of the reasons for his selection was his family background; his mother was of Adani heritage and he therefore had a good grasp of the Emirate's culture, making him well-suited to the possibility of balancing the Emirate's concerns with the concerns of the wider Caliphate.

Assuming that the Roman deployment actually caused any concerns, of course. It was the major's hope that whatever the operation was, it would proceed smoothly with typical Roman discipline and efficiency.

Arriving at Almaza Air base in the northeast of Cairo, Major Al-Iryani would board a military-owned business jet to make the roughly five hour flight to Aden along with a small staff comprised of junior officers from the various branches of the Caliphal Armed Forces; it was not often that the Caliphate had an opportunity to observe the military operations of other nations, so the army, air force, and navy were sending their own specific representatives under Major Al-Iryani to see how the Romans conducted their own military actions.

[-Roma Invicta-]

Tribune (Senior Grade) Gaius Flavius Aquila
Forum Romanum, Rome
Sunday 16th December 2018

The Forum of Rome was already bustling, despite the hour. It was the centre of power for the City of Rome, which by extension meant that it was the centre of power for all of the Republic, but like any forum it was also a civil centre. The plaza itself was expansive, and often full of either merchants or politicians plying their trade, but also thousands of Romans going about their business at any of the huge, majestic buildings around the perimeter. These ranged from the Temple of Mars, to the Senate Building to the Basilica Roma and even the great Flavian Bathes, the latter was primarily used by the various high ranking patricians who worked in this part of the great sprawling City of Rome, it was all designed to be simply awe-inspiring, and it worked. The majesty of Rome was on full display here, at the very centre of Roman power, so it had been in ancient times.

Gaius Flavius Aquila was a young man of only twenty years, but he had been to the Forum Romanum a few times over his life, his father was a Senator after all which bestowed certain privileges, most importantly at the moment the place as the Tribunus Laticlavius (Senior Tribune) of a Legion. It was not uncommon for ambitious Romans of high birth to take appointments in the Military to raise their standing amongst their peers, in preparation for a life of politics, and for Gaius Flavius Aquila it was a family tradition even after gaining Senatorial rank, after all they had adopted ‘Aquila’ as their cognomen for a reason. The Flavians were an Equestrian family, they had worked their way up since time immemorial from the plebeian masses, many of their line had served as Consuls, but they lacked the prestige and wealth of the patricians, which was part of the reason that many Flavians, and the Aquila family in particular, choose the Military as a way to raise their status to make their ascent to the high offices of the Republic possible.

Fortunately, the Flavians, recognising the position that their Plebeian roots put them in, were a tightly nit group, with the various branches of the gens always willing to help their kin. Marcus Flavius Magnus was the newly appointed Legatus of the Thirteenth Legion, one of the Legions that was being prepared to reinforce the Ninth Legion in Madagascar, was Flavius Aquila’s cousin and had arranged for him to be appointed to his staff now that he had graduated from the Roman Military Academy. As such Flavius Aquila was preparing for deployment, and was due to join his Legion at Neapolis.

“Ave, Gaius Flavius Aquila.”

Aquila turned his head to look at the source of the voice and his face broke into a broad smile as he looked upon his best friend.

“Ave, Marcus Cornelius Favus,” He smiled. “How are you, I did not expect to see you before I left for Neapolis.”

“I am well, my friend,” Favus replied with a smile. “However, I fancy you’ll be seeing more of me.”

“Oh, how so?” Aquila asked, intrigued.

“I have been appointed the Decurion of a squadron of Legionary Cavalry,” Favus replied, clearly pleased with this, no doubt a result of his rank and connections. “Attached to the Thirteenth Legion.”

“Fantastic! I say that is fantastic news,” Aquila smiled broadly. “It’ll be just like old times, just with an entire Legion at our backs.”

“Indeed! We’ll fuck our way through every servant and whore we can get our hands on,” Favus laughed, Aquila smirked recalling their (mis)spent youth where prostitutes, and more than a few teenaged serving girls, had been the order of the day most days. “Unless you are too high and mighty for us, oh my Tribune.”

“Knock it off,” Aquila laughed. “Even Tribunes need a release, possibly even more than the rest of you fuckers.”

Favus simply smiled.

“You are going to the Temple of Mars I assume?” He enquired, glancing across the forum at the Temple in question, second only in statue only to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus high on the Capitoline, Aquila nodded in return. “Do you mind if I join you, my friend? Then we can travel to Neapolis together.”

Aquila nodded and the two friends made their way through the bustling crowds and up the steps into the Temple. The main chamber was dominated by a massive, truly massive, statue of Mars, adorned as a Roman Legionary, at the base of his feet many people had left offerings. All around the chamber were various Priests, ready to do their work if it was required. Unlike many other Gods however, the soldiers (and other Military personnel) who tended to visit the Temple of Mars in the Forum of Rome knew exactly what they were doing and, more importantly, that it was a private matter, between one soldier and the God of War. The two friends stopped just before the feet of the great statue and knelt down, each offering a sacrifice to the God. In Aquila’s case it was a golden statuette of an Eagle, for Favus it was a golden statuette of a Horse. They remained on their needs in silent prayer and contemplation for a short time before glancing over at each other and standing up, bowing back at the statue before striding confidently back out into the Forum, the favour of the god hopefully acquired they could now depart.

The two friends acquired a Litter and were promptly on their way through the busy streets of Rome, the litter moving them far quicker than walking, and more ‘distinguished’ than the public transport that the plebeians were compelled to use. All told it took them less than an hour to get from the Forum to get to the edge of the metropolis and the seven hills that surrounded it, reaching a train station that would take them southwards. Now that they were outside the sacred boundaries of Rome the two friends could wear the sagum, the distinctive red cloak of a soldier, attaching them around their necks as they climbed aboard the train and were guided to the first class carriages given their social rank and their status as military officers.

They reached Neapolis in good time and were soon making their way into the Castrum Neapolis.

It was with more than a little excitement that Aquila buckled the last part of his ceremonial armour, into place. It was required that an officer reporting to their posts for the first time do so in ceremonial dress; just like the duty officer on any given day. As a Tribune his breastplate was ornately decorated with an eagle, and upon the top of his helmet was a crest of red horsehair running from front to back, marking him out as a senior officer, as opposed to the centurions who wore it side to side. It would look archaic perhaps to an outsider, but it was steeped in history and tradition, and even then if he had a gladius on his belt he also had a modern pistol as well.

Aquila and Favus had arrived only a short time ago and had been directed to the Officer’s accommodation within the Fort, as a Tribune Aquila had the larger accommodation, which he had found very much to his liking. Looking in the mirror he was satisfied that he looked the part and turned and headed back outside, the Legatus was waiting for him and it wasn’t smart to keep a Legion Legatus waiting. He met Favus outside the Officer’s Accommodation and they made their way together over to the Praetorium, the Legion Headquarters.

They got a few amused glances from the various Legionaries they passed, Aquila had been told to expect this by his father, who had risen to the rank of Prefect (the highest rank a Plebeian could achieve, gaining him entry into the Equestrian Order upon retirement). The vast majority of Legionaries, and all of their Centurions, were career soldiers, the Tribunes gained their high positions through their social rank and connections, as a result they had to prove themselves. No soldier who valued his life dared disrespect a Tribune openly, and if they ever did Aquila had been advised to assert his authority immediately, but a young Tribune (especially a senior Tribune, because unlike the junior Tribunes who were intending to go onto Legionary command, the senior Tribunes were using military service as a stepping stone to political office) was viewed as ‘playing soldier’, a view that remained until they proved themselves. Regardless, the two Legionaries standing guard outside of the Praetorium stood to attention and saluted crisply

They were shown through to the Legatus’ office and stood before his desk until the man, like them in ceremonial armour which was even more ornately designed than Aquila’s own. The two young friends stood to attention and saluted.

“Gaius Flavius Aquila, reporting for duty, Sir.”

“Marcus Cornelius Favus, reporting for duty, Sir.”

The Legatus fixed the two young men in front of him with a stern expression, as he looked them over. Both had removed their helmets upon entering the Praetorium and held them under their arms. They were both muscular and athletic, clearly having made the appropriate preparations for their assignments here. Both stood straight-backed, expressions totally serious. The Legatus had seen enough young noblemen joining the Army to further their own careers, often to the detriment of the unit (resulting in everyone else having to pick up their slack), but if their bearing was anything to go by that wasn’t going to be a problem here.

“I am Marcus Flavius Magnus, Legatus of the Thirteenth Legion,” He said after a short time. “It is good to meet you, Cousin, last time you were a mere babe in arms.”

“Yes sir, my Mater mentioned something like that,” Aquila nodded, remaining straight backed and looking forward.

“Relax man! You are the senior Tribune of a Legion, not some rookie Legionary straight out of basic,” Magnus chided as he signalled for three servings of wine to be brought in. “And you, young Favus, are an Officer of the Legionary Cavalry, you hardly have to look like you’ve just enlisted as well.”

The two friends relaxed significantly and took the wine, soon understanding why it fetched a high price in Rome, for it was exquisite to say the least.

“Good, that’s much better, you and I are going to be working closely Aquila, so you need to be able to relax around me and not think I’m going to bite your head off,” Magnus said dryly. “You’ve got ten years of service ahead of you, although I fear that only some of it will be under me, I suspect that my enemies in the Senate will endeavour to place another officer in command of the Thirteenth before long.”

“I sincerely hope not, Sir, and if there is anything that I can do to help, I will,” Aquila said earnestly and the older man smiled.

Magnus had joined the army much the same way that Aquila had, but whereas Aquila intended to continue pushing, aiming as high as a Consul, Magnus had been more content to be commanding Legions, and the Senate had been more than willing to oblige. Unfortunately, in his time he had made enemies, and those same enemies now sought to strip him of the prestigious command he held.

“Loyalty is a trait that I appreciate more than anything, especially to one’s kin,” Magnus said meaningfully, then turned to Favus. “And what about you, will you be joining my cousin here as a Tribune, albeit a junior one, in due course? Or will you be taking up some Procurator post somewhere sooner rather than later.”

“Probably stay with the Legions, Sir,” Favus admitted. “I never had much interest in politics.”

“That makes too of us,” Magnus agreed dryly. “Well, we’ll let you gain some experience with the Cavalry for a couple of years, then we’ll get you started on the tres militia, we’ll have you as a prefect in no time.”

The Legatus sat down behind his desk and leant back in the chair. It was obvious that he was working on something rather important; there was evidence of it all across his desk. Clearly the man clocked onto what they were looking at and smiled slightly.

“Don’t worry lads, you’ve arrived just in time to join us on our march southwards; you’re not going to miss our esteemed Consul’s glorious campaign,” Magnus commented with a wry smile as he leant back in his chair. “You’ll both need to report to the quartermaster in order to get prepared, and you young Favus had best report to your unit, so get to it!”

Centurion Publius Rufius Atellus
Castrum Eudaemon, Emirate of Aden
Sunday 16th December 2018

Centurion Publius Rufius Atellus, officer commanding the 5th Century, 4th Cohort of the 9th Legion, watched as the military business jet of the Caliphal Armed Forces taxied towards its assigned parking spot on the hardstanding. The Roman Castrum possessed its own airstrip, necessary for the rapid deployment of troops without having to co-operate too closely with the host nation, and as such when they had been informed of the Caliphal Liaison Mission’s impending arrival they had liaised with Aden’s air traffic control and offered the ability to land straight at the Castrum. Moreover, it would have given the Caliphal liaison officer a bird’s eye view of the steadily increasing amount of activity at the Roman base, for although the entire Legion wasn’t due to arrive until as late as 21 December the decision had been made at the highest levels that those units that were ready to go were to deploy as soon as there were transports from the Volantes to carry them. One such unit had been Rufius Atellus’ fifth century. Upon arriving earlier in the day Rufius Atellus had settled his unit into the collection of eight-man DRASH-S tents, and several smaller DRASH-C tents that would serve as their stores, command post and his own sleeping quarters, that had been allocated to his century even before they had arrived.

By all accounts the men of the headquarters element, with manpower seconded from the Praetorian Cohort, had been efficient enough in getting a veritable sea of such tents set up for the thousands of troops that would be flooding into the Castrum. It was, perhaps, hardly surprising given that every tent-camp had the same set-up, one that was drilled into every Roman soldier, and the DRASH tents had been chosen by the Basilica Militum due to their ease of transport and easy ability to be set-up one on-site. The forward elements had simply laid down a standard Legion camp, or rather two side-by-side once news that the Thirteenth Legion would be joining them, and smaller camps for the Auxiliary Cohorts, and been all was ready for the troops as they deployed. Indeed, another whole set of tents was already packed away into cargo containers ready for transport to their target.

Shortly after Rufius Atellus’ century had been settled in a staff tribune had arrived from headquarters with news that his century had been selected as the ‘host’ unit for the Caliphal liaison mission. Whilst the liaison officer would, of course, be more than welcome within the command headquarters it had been decided that if liaison really wanted to see what was going on it would be best to attach him to a line unit… and that unit was the 5th Century of the 4th Cohort. So Rufius Atellus had nodded, saluted and after leaving instructions with his Optio, his second-in-command, he had made his way towards the flight-line.

The Roman Centurion was turned-out in combat uniform, wearing the heavy combat armour of the Legions, a pistol in a leg-drop holster on his right thigh and a beret bearing the golden-eagle beret badge of the Legions upon his head, as he stood, hands clasped behind his back watching and waiting. As with all other Centurions, Legion or Auxiliary, Rufius Atellus had come up from the ranks, having joined the Legions as an adolescent at the age of eighteen and had twenty years of service under his belt. The Centurions were the backbone of the Roman Army, and the first true officer rank; as although each century had two other officers, an Optio ranking as a ‘Captain’ and a Tesserarius ranking as a ‘Lieutenant’, these were both appointed by the Centurion and could (and would) lose their rank if assigned to a different century and not re-appointed. As such Centurion, ranked as a ‘Major’, was the first officer rank which was appointed by the Basilica Militum in Rome as a true officer rank, and would retain that rank if posted to a different century. It was one of many unique aspects of the Roman Military, but one that was proven and one that worked.

Rufius Atellus, therefore, had a good eight years on the Caliphal officer who led the liaison mission down from the military jet and towards him, despite their ‘equivalent’ ranks. Never the less Rufius Atellus stepped forwards as the Caliphal Major approached and rendered a parade-perfect salute, out of respect to the Caliphate’s status as the host nation he saluted first.

“Major Al-Iryani? I am Centurion Publis Rufius Atellus,” He asked, having checked the name of the Caliphal officer with the tribune. “Welcome to Castrum Eudaemon, I’ve been assigned by my command to look after you and your team whilst you are with us.”

Rufius Atellus gestured away from the flight line for the Caliphal Major to follow him.

“I’ve been advised that you will, of course, be more than welcome within the Headquarters for the duration of this campaign, however in the interests of giving you something exciting to observe my command has the idea that it would be useful for you to be attached to a Century, mine, for the rest of the time,” Rufius Atellus explained as they made their way away from the airfield, the Centurion returning salutes as they passed enlisted soldiers. “We’ve prepared quarters for you and your team within the headquarters, however if you fancy roughing it with the real Legions you’re more than welcome with my Century, after all once we hit the dirt its not like you’ll have much choice!”

Rufius Atellus’ tone was jovial and welcoming, despite some of his less than complimentary words for the headquarters element. It was a longstanding source of banter between the line cohorts and the headquarters that the former were the ‘real’ army, and this was not exactly untrue. The cohorts of the Legion, and the centuries of an Auxiliary Cohort, possessed all the tactical experience and institutional knowledge of the Army. By contrast, the headquarters elements, made up of higher-born personages, intensely schooled at the Roman Military Academy in the subjects of strategy and the nuances of high command, who provided the leadership. Both had their place, and no Centurion would ever tolerate disrespect to senior officers by any Legionary under his command, but the banter, and it truly was nothing more than playful banter, never the less underlined that unspoken understanding between the ‘rank and file’ and the senior command.

[Marimaia]

(OOC: This is a joint post by -Roma Invicta- and Marimaia)

Castrum Eudaemon, Emirate of Aden
Sunday 16th December 2018

Major Al-Iryani returned the salute from Centurion Publius Rufius Atellus before offering a slight smile.

"Thank you for the warm welcome, Centurion. This is my first time visiting one of your nation's facilities so please indulge me if I seem somewhat uninitiated when it comes to your procedures. My team might also require some degree of indulgence if they start asking questions as it is not often that the Caliphal Armed Forces are fortunate enough to observe the military operations of other nations."

The Major offered a respectful salute to any enlisted Roman soldiers that saluted the Centurion as they passed them, taking care to listen to Rufius Atellus as they walked. He chuckled slightly as the Roman officer mentioned 'hitting the dirt', as it provided a good gateway into asking some important questions that the Caliphate would dearly like to have answered.

"Well, until we 'hit the dirt' as you say, I can at least offer my services as a go-between for you with the local authorities. My mother was born here in the Emirate of Adan so if any issues arise, I should be able to smooth things over. The Adani authorities probably won't have any issues because they should be used to you by now, but sometimes these autonomous Emirates can get a little....well, ornery. Especially the ones based on familial inheritance, the al-Abdali dynasty have been rulers in this area since 1740 so you can imagine how protective they are about their perceived sovereignty."

Major Al-Iryani paused before he asked the most important question in his mind.

"Anyway, perhaps you could answer something for me. When you talk about 'hitting the dirt', which specific dirt are you talking about? We were notified about your build-up but we weren't notified about the potential target of the build-up. As liaison officer, it would help me considerably if I knew where your forces were planning to deploy to. If the Caliphate has established interests in your potential target or simply civilians working there then it would help us to know if there is something we need to be concerned about."

“That is very good to know, Major, I know that my legions Senior Tribune and the forward staff have been working hard to maintain good relations,” Rufius Atellus replied with a nod. “My own unit was not forward deployed, but I know it would be against Rome’s interests to risk that success, especially as we totally get understand the importance of sovereignty.”

The Centurion smiled slightly.

“Of course, I wasn’t aware that we hadn’t let your people know where we’re heading yet, but I’ve not been told to withhold that information,” He commented wryly. “So I don’t think it’ll hurt to fill you in; our target is Madagascaria, we’re ordered to effect a landing and an… adjustment to Roman administration.”

“Madagascar? Interesting choice. That definitely explains the need for the build-up here.” Major Al-Iryani looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t think that it’s a nation with particularly strong ties to us, at least I can’t say that I’ve ever heard about close ties between the Caliphate and Madagascar. Some discreet enquiries with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or the Central Security Commission would confirm that one way or another, if you’d have no objections to such contact. The CSC would probably be the better choice in all honesty, it’s part of their job to be discreet after all.”

The Major smirked and let out an amused sound. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why would Rome want to intervene in Madagascar of all places?”

“Not for purely altruistic reasons I’m afraid; whilst what the so-called ‘People’s Government’ are doing to those who resist their cabal is distasteful in the extreme, it is not in the interests of Rome to interfere in the internal unpleasantness of another sovereign state solely for that reason,” Rufius Atellus replied honestly, referring to the rash of ‘disappearances’ on Madagascar. “However, what it does do is provide Rome with an opening, should we wish to take control of Madagascaria for other reasons; divide and conquer is the oldest strategy in the Roman playbook; if we can support the Rebels against the Government we’ll ensure their loyalty and support.”

Rufius Atellus paused and shrugged, what he was about to say would be easily pieced together by simply following the Roman political discourse in the coming days.

“Put simply, Rome needs more land; one of the methods by which we in the Legions are rewarded for our long years of service to the Republic is with a plot of land to call our own, effectively raising those of us from humble backgrounds to a higher status as a result,” Rufius Atellus explained. “Moreover, the fact that many of these plots are far from the centre of Roman influence, means that the presence of Roman veterans and their families helps Romanise our captured provinces over the centuries, and has by and large been a successful tradition.”

Rufius Atellus paused again.

“However, between the vast estates of the Senatorial class, who rely on the proceeds of their land, both agricultural and rental income, to live as they are prohibited by law to engage in commerce for ethics reasons, and the piecemeal distribution of land to veterans means that there is precious little public land left,” Rufius Atellus continued. “Madagascar is a very sparsely populated territory; even settling the entire current waiting list would do minimal damage to the existing environment, as such a Roman conquest of Madagascar ends the bloodshed, and meets Rome’s need for more land without requiring us to start a long, costly, war with a larger opponent closer to home.”

“I see.” Major Al-Iryani could now certainly understand why the Romans were preparing for a landing on the island of Madagascar, although he didn’t necessarily agree with the motivation. While the Marimaian Caliphate had plenty of experience in dealing with the Roman Republic over the years, Cairo could never truly get their heads around the Roman policy of land grants because they believed that it could lead to inevitable constant expansion in order to fulfil the demands of such a policy. Still, the Caliphate had a good working relationship with Rome and would never really oppose Roman expansionism unless it proved to be a threat to Caliphal interests; perhaps in some cases it could actually prove beneficial to Caliphal interests. Now you’re thinking like a Margrave, Major Al-Iryani thought to himself.

“So how large a build-up will we be seeing here? To my knowledge Madagascar isn’t the most militarily-capable nation in the region but the size of it could present issues if antagonistic forces decide to play guerilla.”

“Rome demands victory from her generals,” Rufius Atellus replied simply. “So we’re making sure we go in hard and heavy.”

The group cleared a building and found themselves looking out over the sea of tents; the scale of the deployment would becoming rapidly clear.

“Initially the plan called for a single Legion Battlegroup; thats a Legion of approximately five thousand men and five auxiliary cohorts of infantry and artillery, and a wing of cavalry, for approximately ten thousand men all told; what you’d probably call a division,” The Centurion explained, gesturing to the camp. “However the Senate is eager to ensure that Rome’s first major military action of the Twenty-First century does not become a liability; so we’ve doubled the size to two Legion Battlegroups, to send a message and reassert Roman military capability to anyone who forgot.”

Rufius Atellus smiled wryly.

“As I said, we’ll be running this in a way that allows us to divide and conquer, we assist the rebels, who have a lot of support but not much military capability, against the Government, but we’d rather go in with overkill than under do it,” He shrugged. “Of course the very fact that we’ll be settling military veterans, who will make up the provinces civil cohorts, its defensive military and civil defence units, after the invasion is over will help us secure the territory and romanise it.”

Major Al-Iryani listened intently to Rufius Atellus, nodding with understanding as the Centurion detailed the Roman deployment plan.

“Considering the importance that your Senate is attaching to this operation, I think it would be beneficial if I go ahead with enquiries to the Central Security Commission in case they have some intelligence which may prove useful. I’ll also have to submit a report to the Minister of Defence and Military Production regarding your intended target, due to being a liaison officer I can submit it directly to him so that there is a minimum risk of your plans being leaked before you’re ready to reveal them. That way he can discuss the situation with Prime Minister Osman, our government might have a course of action that they would wish to take in this instance.”

“I’m sure that Praetorian Intelligence will find that very helpful Major, we’re basing most of our information based from open-source, SIGINT and satellite reconnaissance, we have precious little HUMINT sources beyond our contacts in the rebellion,” Rufius Atellus replied with a nod as they continued to walk. “We’ve got enough information to know what we’re facing, where to strike and to generally launch the invasion, but on the chance that you do have any intelligence that we don’t then I’m sure it would be very helpful for to the Staff Tribunes.”

“Understood, Centurion. So regarding my accommodations, as I’ve been attached to your Century for the duration of this operation it only seems appropriate for me to ‘rough it’ with them.”

Major Al-Iryani smirked. “It would be rather disrespectful of me to work alongside them but refuse their hospitality, after all. My team and I have all spent time ‘roughing it’ in the past, Caliphal officers spend time camped out in the deserts and the mountains as part of the training curriculum. Gets us used to the terrain that we may well be defending one day.”

“Good to know,” Rufius Atellus replied with a nod, the approval of the former ranker obvious. “In that case, follow me.”

The Centurion adjusted his course slightly, turning away from the buildings of the permanent Castrum and heading towards the vast tent camp. They were smartly challenged by sentries at the entrance to the camp, even if they were within a secured military base it was good practice to maintain the kind of security they would in the field. Rufius Atellus simply gave the daily password and returned the salute of the sentry as they let him and his group through without any further issues. They made their way through the bustling camp, up wide open spaces between groups of tents that would, in a permanent base, be the main roads of the camp, weaving in between groups of soldiers moving equipment, tents and other equipment who took priority, even over an officer and his group; or rather Rufius Atellus, as a smart officer and a former ranker (as were almost all Roman Centurions) did not bother to enforce military courtesy at a time like this.

Given the scale of the tent camp it took longer than one might expect to reach the area of the camp inhabited by Rufius Atellus’ century where, once again, there were sentries posted at the entrance to their camp-within-a-camp, although the soldiers immediately recognized their Centurion and saluted. As if by magic, although Rufius Atellus knew that one of the sentries by the command tent would have called inside, his second-in-command, Optio Sextus Sergius Helva, appeared from within to meet him. He strode up towards the group and rendered a crisp salute in the Roman style; fist struck against the chest before being extended flatly forwards.

“Centurion,” Sergius Helva said formally.

“Optio,” Rufius Atellus nodded in reply. “This is Major Al-Iryani, our Caliphal liaison officer.”

“An honour, Major,” The Optio replied with a salute.

“The Major and his men are going to be bunking with us,” Rufius Atellus commented with a knowing smile at the younger Roman officer. “I assume that HQ sent over the additional tents?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sergius Helva nodded again.

“Good, well let’s get a DRASH-C up for the Major’s team, and a DRASH-S up for the Major himself,” Rufius Atellus ordered crisply. “Then arrange for the Tesserarius to give them a daily brief, and the watch-words.”

“Will do, Sir,” The Optio nodded, moving away and barking orders to a group of Legionaries that had been doing their best to quietly move away from the area around the stores tent back to their own. “You lot, I’ve got a job for you…”

A chorus of groans echoed across the open area as the Legionaries were foiled just short of their own tent, and the safety of being but one contubernium amongst many rather than an obvious choice in plain sight, but they never the less snapped crisply to attention as the Optio approached and gave them their orders before moving away to start the task of getting the two additional tents set-up, which in truth would only take maybe ten minutes. Rufius Atellus smiled wryly, he had remembered the elation when he had made his first step up the pecking order, becoming an Immune which, aside from additional pay and responsibility, exempted him from menial tasks.

“We’ll have you something set-up soon enough, Major,” Rufius Atellus commented with a smile.

“Appreciated, Centurion. The past couple of days have been something of a blur, what with the assignment notification and the flight out here, it’ll be good to have some semblance of stability for a while. Once we’ve settled in I’d appreciate an opportunity to consult with your superiors before I start contacting Caliphal agencies, just to make sure that they’re aware of what I’m doing.” Major Al-Iryani paused for a moment and then smirked at Rufius Atellus. “Don’t be surprised if some of my team start asking you all manner of questions, I get the feeling that at least one of us will end up giving lectures on Caliphal-Roman military cooperation once all of this is over.”

“Of course, Major; we would normally have daily briefs each morning, however tomorrow is the festival of the Saturnalia, which is a public holiday even for the likes of us preparing for war, so we’ll be having a briefing this evening; so you can come with and speak with the legion command,” Rufius Atellus replied with an understanding nod, then smiled. “That’s what you’re here for, after all, Major, and the Legions are very aware that, in many respects, we’ve shunned many of the methods of other militaries in favour of our own traditions, so anything that you or any of your team want to ask then feel free; I’ve briefed all of my people to accomodate you where possible.”

[Walmington on Sea]

Marigold Victoria, Walmingtonian Indian Ocean Territory

Almost ninety.

This really is too much. How is a fellow supposed to take on a full roast after Church with the mercury so high? And in his best!

The Governor struggled to resist a desired slouch that would surely have cost him at least the trouble of filling out an expenses claim for a trip to the local haberdasher. His shirt buttons already looked in danger of losing the battle against a fast-breaking post-mass meal of beef, potatoes, carrots, and Yorkshires.

It really is too much, he sweated.

And yet, even on the Sabbath, duty refused to abate, and there would be no respite. From the dining-room window he could just about distinguish the face of his city’s beloved clock-tower, modelled after a more famous erection in far-away Westminster (no, not that one!).

Hm! Later than it ought to be! Almost a full hour lost to that digestif. Sherry? Sherry!

Arthur uttered a rather pitiable little sigh as the increasingly fleshy late middle-aged representative of His Godfreyite Majesty in the Indian Ocean rocked himself up from his seat, dead set on… oh, well, perhaps one last snifter at the bar on the way out? He could even browse the day’s news... Being a respectable establishment, Marigold’s would have at the very least the British paper of record along with the two leading Walmingtonian journals.

He sat against –rather than really upon- a stool at the end of the bar closest to the main doorway out into the capital, settled his bill, and added a glass of port to the sum before perusing the newspapers laid out there as a courtesy.

“Hm! The old girl’s up and running again, at last!”

Governor Lavender gladly set down The Sunday Times, with its dry talk of a trade summit down-under, and picked up a rather more slim-line copy of The Bugle On Sunday, his eye drawn by a front-page inset depicting the pocket-battleship HWMS Godfrey Grace à Dieu docked at Gibraltar. Walmington’s last big gun-and-armour warship was briefly stretching her 11.1” rifles in the shadow of the iconic rock before heading towards home for Christmas, intending to show the flag in Portsmouth en route.

”Your Excellency.”

Arthur gave a look and then a nod. His boxes would be in the waiting car. “No rest for the wicked, Nirmal! My chariot waits!”

He tipped the barman rather better than was the broader Walmingtonian custom and shuffled awkwardly through the tearoom’s lobby, out to an air-conditioned Chassire town car.

English River, Victoria, WIOT

“Oh, what now? Driver! What’s this?”

”Looks like mobilisation, Excellency. Legion men.”

Lavender’s jowls shook. No, no, this can’t be right.

“Hold here!”

He exited the £80,000 hand-built vehicle, wiping his brow with a kerchief as he went. Damnable heat, almost three figures, now!

”…right wheel!”

The Governor only caught the end of the command, bellowed forcefully though it was by the old chap standing at the middle of the crossroads just outside his official residence. He mopped his brow again, though no more sweat had yet gathered in its many creases.

”Salute to the left, salute!”

Several dozen men –and boys- of the Legion of Frontiersmen expressed to their King’s representative the proper respect as they marched by, the part-time volunteer militia of –overwhelmingly white- Walmingtonian citizens having been activated in response to a signal from Lime Crescent to which the Governor himself was not yet privy. These long lunches were almost becoming burdensome!

The platoon passed and Lavender’s car took him the last few yards to his residence.

“So, it’s the ruddy Papists getting all agitated again! Miki, you should fly out in the morning. I don’t know where they’re going, but if it’s Aden they’re starting from, I shouldn’t bet against them coming through here. Perhaps it’s the Spice Islands! There’ll be Hell to pay!”

The Governor then spent several hours apologising for his assertion of two years previous that this posting should provide the couple with a long sought quiet life, while trying to read over his second wife’s shoulder as the dispatches piled up.

A Nimrod flying into Zanzibar. Sir Henry sending British sell-swords to Waynesia. A frigate recalled from the East Indies to take up station at Ceyloba a fortnight early. Not much more he could actually do without resupply. Where were they going? Why hadn’t he bothered to keep up with Roman politics?

Time for another nip.

[-Roma Invicta-]

OOC: This is a Joint Post between Marimaia and -Roma INVICTA-

Castrum Eudaemon, Emirate of Aden
Monday 17th December 2018

Rufius Atellus could not help but smile fondly as he watched his Legionaries laughing and joking with their comrades as they sat around several field tables that had been laid out for them in the centre of his centuries tents, waiting for their food. Under normal circumstances they would have rotated through the base’s canteen, but today was not a normal day. For day was the Saturnalia, the Festival of Saturn, a day of much merrymaking that led into a near week of festivities; it was a time that, in many respects, overturned Roman social norms; gambling was permitted, partying was the order of the day and a carnival atmosphere fell over the Republic. For those in the military they could not enjoy a full week away from their duties, as those civilians in Rome and the provinces could, but they were allowed this day. In the military the day was capped with a banquet, in which, as part of the role-reversal, the unit’s officers served their men their food, rather than the other way round. As such, Rufius Atellus, his Optio, his Tesserarius and Major Al-Iryani, stood by the command tent and waited for the food to be brought to them.

Rufius Atellus and Al-Iryani had attended the ad-hoc briefing the previous evening where the Centurion had formally introduced the Major to the Legion’s senior tribune, now that the Major was setted in. Rufius Atellus had left the Major to speak with the Tribune a while, excusing himself to the Officer’s Mess where he had enjoyed a glass of spiced wine with his brother officers before returning to collect the Major as he finished his meeting and escorted him back to the century.

“How did your meeting with the tribune go, Major?” Rufius Atellus queried, glancing past the Major where he could see the food being delivered to the next century along. “Well, I hope.”

“Yes, very well in fact. He appreciated the idea of contacting the Central Security Commission so I can press ahead with enquiries in that regard.” Al-Iryani regarded Rufius Atellus with an inquisitive raised eyebrow. “So what does this particular holiday commemorate? In the Caliphate we have Muslims, Jews, and Christians of many denominations so we are used to the special days of those faiths, but I can’t say that we have much experience with Roman festivals.”

“This is the Saturnalia; the Festival of Saturn, our god of commerce and wealth, which is where the celebrating and gift-giving comes from, however he is also the god of renewal and liberation, which is why its held at the end of the year and why we like a good party,” Rufius Atellus explained with a broad smile. “In Rome they celebrate an elaborate rite at the Temple of Saturn, asking the deity to bless the Republic with wealth and prosperity over the next year, but for the rest of us it’s an excuse for a good party, gifts and a general loosening of social norms.”

“Well that explains why we’re the ones serving the food today. Are there any other holidays or rituals coming up soon that I should know about? I’ve got no problem helping you to honour significant days but I’ll be far better at it if I know about them in advance.”

“Indeed, we’re very strict on distinction of rank in the Legions, principally due to the fact that our field officers are all former rankers, so the lads like festivals like this,” Rufius Atellus replied with a broad smile. “As for festivals, there’s always something going on but nothing on the scale of the Saturnalia; certainly nothing that will have the same impact for us under the eagle..”

Major Al-Iryani nodded. “Good to know. So aside from the joviality provided by Saturnalia, how’s morale among the men? Are they excited at the prospect of seeing action on the battlefield?”

“It’s good by all accounts, this is our first real operational combat deployment in some time, exercises not included,” Rufius Atellus replied with a nod and a smile. “So anyone getting to be involved this is buzzing, even if it means being away from home at this time of year.”

“Speaking of home, is there anyone that you would normally be spending this time of year with? Any family?”

“My wife, Lucia, and my twins, Gaius and Sextus,” Rufius Atellus replied fondly. “They’re visiting family in Mediolānum given that I’m away… yourself?”

“Safiya, my wife. No children as yet but there’s time enough for that. We’ve got a lovely apartment in Cairo, good school nearby, so everything’s set for when the time comes for a son or daughter.”

“That’s good, there’s always time for that, my twins are only six, we had them when I first made centurion,” Rufius Atellus agreed. “My first time properly away from home over the holidays since they were born, the Basilica Militum tried to avoid deployments around now, except the Navy of course.”

“I only made Major last year, so it’s only now that I’m really thinking about children, possibly settling down a bit more. The Caliphate is, if I’m honest, not fond of combat. We’ll train for it, we keep our military as modern as we possibly can, and we will not hesitate to respond if someone threatens our sovereignty….but we’d much prefer a peaceful life. Thankfully most nations prefer to trade with us, we were truly blessed with the amount of oil and gas we found within our borders.” Major Al-Iryani smirked slightly, he had almost uttered ‘Allah blessed us’ but thought better of bringing too much religion back into the conversation.

“So Vis Pacem, Para Bellin,” Rufius Atellus commented, lapsing into Latin. “If you wish for peace, prepare for war… Rome might have built its wealth by conquest, but we built our prosperity through peace, the Pax Romanum.”

Rufius Atellus looked like he was going to say more but was interrupted by the arrival of the group of senior officers and headquarters staff brining the food. The young deputy legion commander, Senior Tribune Fabius Catulus stood beside the two officers as the other tribunes and their subordinates began to serve the food to the gathered troops.

“Centurion, Major,” Fabius Catulus nodded.

“Tribune,” Rufius Atellus replied respectfully. “Enjoying your night, sir?”

“Surprisingly so,” The younger man grinned. “Last Saturnalia I was on the receiving side at the Academy.”

“How long have you been a Tribune then, if you don’t mind me asking?” Major Al-Iryani chimed in with an intrigued expression.

“Ten months or so, I graduated from the Roman Military Academy in the summer of 2017,” The Tribune replies. “Received my first commission just after the new year, posted to the Ninth.”

Major Al-Iryani nodded understandingly. “I imagine that your family must be very proud.”

“They are; there’s a great deal of expectation, especially amongst prominent families for scions to have a successful political career to maintain the families Senatorial status,” The Tribune nodded. “An important part of a successful career is solid, proven, service to Rome, meaning that the time we spend under the Eagle very important.”

“A commitment to doing your duty for your nation is always an admirable quality, Tribune. In the Caliphate, prominent families often help to serve the nation by contributing to the construction of hospitals, schools, and other civic buildings. Then again, our prominent families tend to be secure in their position due to their birth.”

“Privilege comes with responsibility, and in our system that privilege is very much less secure,” The Tribune replied. “Senatorial rank requires not only wealth but membership of the Senate, otherwise they are just very wealthy equestrians, with far less privilege… and responsibility.”

The Tribune watched as his staff returned having fed the century.

“I’ll leave you to it, Centurion, Major,” The Tribune nodded. “I’ve still got half a legion to feed!”

With that the young Tribune smiled and moved away with his staff towards the next century.

Major Al-Iryani nodded respectfully in return and watched as the Tribune moved away before turning back to Rufius Atellus.

“So, Centurion. I hope to not cause any offense with this question, but did his familial background play any part in his position?”

“Indeed, the senior ranks of the Roman military are open exclusively to Senatorial and Equestrian backgrounds, the former taking Legatus and Senior Tribune and the latter taking junior tribune and independent prefect-level commands,” Rufius Atellus replied with a nod. “Such men, and women, attend the Roman Military Academy, which requires wealth and connections, where they receive world-class training in strategy, logistics and military theory to prepare them for the role.”

Rufius Atellus pauses, clearly not offended.

“Plebeians such as myself join as enlisted soldiers, gaining my officer rank through experience and competence, meaning that our field grade officers are experts in tactics and on-the-ground combat,” He continued. “It’s a system that’s worked well, we know our business and the turbines know theirs, as much as we have to respect them, they respect the Centurions knowledge and experience.”

“So is there any way for a Plebeian to rise to a Senatorial or Equestrian level? It would be a shame to see a truly gifted Plebeian denied access to the upper echelons of command simply by accident of birth. Some form of meritocratic method to achieve according your ability?”

“Senatorial and equestrian status is based around wealth, and thereby success; meaning that anyone who meets a certain prosperity is raised to that level, with all the positives that come with that, which is passed to offspring but can be lost,” Rufius Atellus explained. “This encourages people to work their hardest to improve their family’s prospects, for example if I reach the highest rank a plebeian can attain the discharge bonus I receive will almost certainly boost me up to equestrian rank.”

Rufius Atellus smiled fondly.

“I might retire a First Spear Centurion, or a Prefect, but my twins, should they choose to enter service, would do so as tribunes, or commanding Prefects,” he continued. “The old hereditary elite, patricians, are entirely closed off, but that is based on blood line and whilst those families are more prestigious they don’t offer any specific benefits, indeed you can often have plebs far wealthier that an unfortunate patrician.”

Major Al-Iryani made a thoughtful ‘hmm’. “So that means that the Senators and Consuls who run the Roman Republic are among the richest citizens in the nation?”

“The Senatorial class, yes, however you can be a Senator without being rich, as having held even the lowest magisterial position entitles you to sit in the Senate itself, however as being Senatorial class means you need to have a seat in the Senate is also means that those rich enough need to have served Rome otherwise they woudl just be very wealthy equestrians,” Rufius Atellus replied. “Once you’re in the Senate you can rise to the highest levels, even as a lowborn pleb, if you’ve got the political chops, we call members of the Senate who are the first in their family to gain a seat a ‘Novus Homo’ or New Man.”

Rufius Atellus paused and smiled, suspecting the name he was about to drop would be known to an educated man such as the Major.

“The great Orator, Cicero, who served as a Consul, was a New Man. In any case, whilst the Senators possess great prestige and influence, actual legislative ability is in the hands of the Comitia Civis, and executive power
Is in the hands of the elected magistrates; meaning that actual power, rather than influence, is in the hands of the people.”

“So did this system simply evolve over time or did it come about as a reaction to a historical event?” The Major asked, interested to learn more about the Roman system.

“The system goes as far back as the Old Republic, when it was closer to a classical oligarchy than a true republic,” Rufius Atellus commented. “The benefits were enhanced when the New Republic was reborn after the Borgia Crisis, enumerated in the written Constituion, whilst safeguards were enacted to minimise the downsides.”

The Centurion paused.

“The power of the people was consolidated in the Comitia Civis, and representation was made more egalitarian and lesss controlled by the privileged elite,” Rufius Atellus added. “The consolidated Comitia empowers it in a way that a half dozen separate assembly’s could not have wielded’l

Major Al-Iryani nodded understandingly. “The reason for so many questions is because it’s quite different from the system we have here in the Caliphate. Up until the 1950s we were more of an authoritarian monarchy but there were a multitude of concerns which raised their head during the final years of that system. Caliph Abdullah yielded to the recommendations of his Royal Council and established a parliamentary system for most of the Caliphate, the exceptions were the established Emirates, territories given autonomy for either religious purposes or because a family earned their own territory. In establishing the parliamentary system, the Caliph gave up the right to create Emirates so there hasn’t been a new one since the 1920s.

“Parliament sits for six year terms, we have a variety of political parties but there’s only one that’s of any real consequence. The National Democrat Party have been in power in one form or another pretty much since the establishment of Parliament.”

“We’re quite different from a lot of systems, but it works, especially now that the checks and balances are enshrined in a written constitution which we all swear to protect,” Rufius Atellus replied thoughtfully. “I can understand why you moved away from absolute monarchy, far too susceptible to being abused and the voice of the people is often too loud to ignore… so is there a reason for such dominance by one party?”

“Well you have to look at the other parties to discover that reason. The Social Democrat Party have managed to become associated with the CSR and Romnika, two nations which would tear down our entire way of life if given the chance, so they are lucky to hold any seats in Parliament at all. The Liberal Party has some degree of support but their outlook is somewhat more optimistic than realistic when it comes to foreign policy and some matters of internal policy. The National Democrat Party are more pragmatic than idealistic, so they tend to have more room to adapt to changing situations. They support a strong military, they support the need for a flexible foreign policy. If a nation has a different political system to ours, the NDP prefer to engage them through dialogue and attempt to build a relationship on our similarities. The Liberals tend to bang on about how we shouldn’t trade with this nation and that nation because their politics don’t match up with ours, but at the end of the day there is not much room for idealism in foreign policy.”

“Indeed there isn’t, if you commit yourself to a certain ideology you risk becoming predictable and easily countered, potentially to the detriment of your ideals,” Rufius Atellus agreed. “Rome doesn’t really go in for ideology, the overriding concern is the ‘good of Rome’, everything else is secondary.”

“That is pretty much the driving ideal of the National Democrat Party. What is best for the Caliphate, that is what they concern themselves with. The Liberals will often complain and the Social Democrats will as well, but ultimately the voters of the Caliphate elect the NDP into office over and over again. Prime Minister Osman is currently in his twelfth year as Prime Minister, before that he held a variety of ministerial positions. Seventy years old and shows no sign of stopping. We’re due to have an election in 2019 and it’s a definite that he’ll be aiming for another six years.”

“I can certainly understand the voice of the people, although our executive magistrates have to wait a certain number of years between holding positions at the same level,” Rufius Atellus commented. “The idea being to avoid one man attaining too much power, but as every elected magistrate becomes a member of the senate their enduring voice is as loud there as in the Comitia Civis.”

Rufius Atellus shrugged.

“We tend to have temporary coalitions more than anything else, in a particular matter with no enduring loyalty thereafter, for flexibility,” He added. “I do my best to ignore politics however, it irritates me more often than not, and I’ve no interest in a career afterward, I’ll happily retire into my land grant!”

Major Al-Iryani chuckled. “As long as the NDP are in power, I have no concern about the future of the Caliphate. I’m happy to serve my nation as an officer of the Caliphal Armed Forces, I vote when the time comes but I have no interest in actually becoming a politician. Perhaps Minister of Defense and Military Production one day because the constitution stipulates that the position be held by a current serving officer, but it’s not as politicised a position as the rest of the government ministries.”

“Makes sense, best to have someone who knows what they’re doing in command politically,” The Centurion nodded. “Part of the reason why military service is essential for a successful military career, as our senior magistrates hold military command, this little campaign of ours is being led by one of the Consuls.”

“I see. Does that put extra emphasis on a need for victory in this campaign then? Obviously victory is the sought-after outcome in any campaign, but if one of the Consuls is leading it then would that place further importance upon its outcome?”

“Almost certainly; his political career would be dead if this campaign were to go to hades,” Rufius Atellus replied grimly. “However, even in victory he has to answer for his conduct before the Senate, which avoids the risk he, or any Consul, would throw away our lives unnecessarily to ensure his victory.”

“Then I think we should be hoping for a quick victory. For the sake of the Madagascan people, you and your men, and your Consul as well. Although I have to admit, nothing I’ve seen so far suggests that your forces are going to be defeated anytime soon.” Major Al-Iryani smiled warmly. “I’m glad that the Caliphate knows Rome as a friend, I would hate to be on the opposing side to the Legions.”

“Indeed, as I said, Rome demands victory from her generals, that tends to lead to a certain culture,” Rufius Atellus smiles. “I know that Rome values the Caliphates friendship as well, especially when there are so many foes out there for both of us.”

[-Roma Invicta-]

Nauarchus Princeps Lucia Germinius Carbo
RNS Aventine, Suez Canal
Friday 21st December 2018, 1200hrs Local Time

The Commanding Officer of Carrier Group II of the Roman Navy stood on the walkway outside the navigation bridge and looked around at the spectacle. The Aventine, and Carrier Group II, was transiting the Suez Canal en-route to the Mare Indicus destined for operations against Madagascaria. The squadron had received their formal orders three days previously, the day after the main day of the Saturnalia, and after a rapid period of taking on additional supplies, fuel and munitions, had began to make their way eastwards towards destiny. The Aventine and her group were currently tasked as the Roman Navy’s response force, was one of three major Roman formations operationally deployed, the others being her sister ships Esquiline (on sovereignty patrols in the Mediterranean) and Quirinal (on presence patrols in the Caribbean). Indeed, Aventine was specifically assigned to provide a global response capability for the Roman Navy; bringing the concentrated military strength that only a carrier group could provide to wherever the Senate and People fo Rome required them. It was in that role that she had been assigned to spearhead the Roman military operations against Madagascaria, and given that in Carrier Group II she had more aircraft than many air forces and more firepower in her escorts than in some navies, she was the perfect choice to do just that.

Which was, of course, how she had been designed.

The Capitoline-Class Fleet Carrier, of which the Aventine was the second ship of the class, was a modern, highly-capable fleet carrier displacing some 65,000 tonnes on average. Carrying a formidable air-wring of some fifty-six aircraft, and sporting a defensive missile armament (to complement her escorts), the carriers were the pride of the Roman Navy. It was therefore perhaps not surprising that they were suitably escorted at all times. Three potent Ostia-Class guided missile destroyers provided wide-area air defence services to the carrier group, their powerful active phased array radars throwing a wide area of coverage over the group, their positioning carefully maintained to provide comprehensive and overlapping fields of fire. The destroyers were complemented by three Venator-Class anti-submarine warfare frigates, these large, sleek, ships were only slightly smaller than the destroyers, but were uncompromisingly optimised for locating and destroying enemy submarines when compared to their general purpose siblings which shared the same basic hull form but a very different equipment load-out. Two frigates were positioned out beyond the destroyers, running quiet away from the loud carrier in search of prey, whilst the third remained close to the carrier serving in a dual role plane-guard and close-in anti-submarine sentry.

All of this meant next to nothing in the very confined quarters of the Suez Canal; and as such all seven ships of the squadron were at a heightened status of readiness to defend against an attack, with additional security parties turned-to and all the man-served weapons on all ships were kept fully-manned at all times for the duration. Of course, the likelihood of an attack in the Suez Canal was highly unlikely; not only did the Caliphate of Marimaia keep a good with over perhaps their single most important national asset, but sinking a ship the size of the Aventine in the Suez would be disastrous for the world economy as the ship would likely block the passage for months, meaning that only a fool would sanction such an attack. Never the less, Fortuna favoured the prepared and Lucia Germinius Carbo was one to be prepared.

Unlike the Roman Army, the Legions and the Auxiliary Forces, which were strictly men-only, the Roman Navy and the Roman Volantes (Flying Forces) were open to both genders. Moreover, both the Navy and the Volantes were run in a very different way to the far more traditional legions, although there were still some constants. Due to the highly technical nature of both armed services, all of the officers were trained at their respective service academies (Roman Naval Academy and Roman Volantes Academy), rather than promoted from the ranks as was the case in the Legions, whilst enlisted sailors (or their counterparts in the Volantes) were very heavily trained in one specific area. There was still the perks of social rank, in that equestrians and members of the senatorial rank could (and did) join at higher ranks, but it was far less pronounced than in the Legions due to the fact that all officers attended the same academy, even if the Fleet Tribunes and Naurchus attended very different classes focusing on strategy and multi-ship tactics over the concerns of a single ship.

Lucia Germinius Carbo was one such officer; hailing from the Germinius Carbo family, members of the Senatorial Order, she had joined the Roman Naval Academy at sixteen, graduating at twenty and receiving her first commission as a Fleet Tribune shortly thereafter, serving in several successive roles over the next eight years before receiving her promotion to Nauarchus. Since that point she had rotated between sea-going commands and major administrative posts ashore, as the Roman Navy liked to ensure that its senior officers had both operational and administrative experience. The Madagascar operation was the first time she had been appointed to the higher rank of Nauarchus Princeps, equivalent to Vice Admiral under other ranking systems, meaning that she was the senior naval officer commanding both her own Carrier Group II and Amphibious Group I. She would not retain the rank after the end of the operation, but it was a good step towards receiving one of the rare regional naval commands who did.

For now, however, Germinius Carbo was most concerned with getting her task force safely through the Suez Canal; even if an attack was highly unlikely she wanted to be on her toes. They were roughly half way though their sixteen-hour transit of the Suez, and after that they would have a four and a half day steam southwards to their operating box north of Madagascaria. In her most recent update to Consul Horatius Saturninus, who as the Magistrate-in-Charge would be operating under the call sign ‘Omega’ for the duration, she had called it a solid five days before her ships were in position. Fortunately, this was pretty much in line with what the Consul had intended. The prolonged period of festivities of the Saturnalia followed pretty neatly into Christmas for the Catholic inhabits of the Republic, the second largest religions denomination, and although there was now a distinct separation between Church and State in the Roman Republic, no magistrate wanted to conduct military operations during such a religious period. As such the start date for the air strikes, launched by Germinus Carbo and Carrier Group II, would begin on 27 December.

Germinus Carbo turned as she heard footsteps on the walkway behind her and turned to see her immediate subordinates, Nauarchus Gaius Fulvius Caepio, Commander of Amphibious Group I, and Prefect Sextus Antonius Celsus, the commanding officer of the Aventine. Prior to this operation she and Fulvius Caepio had shared the same rank, indeed they shared the same permanent rank, however as the senior of the two she had been appointed to the higher Nauarchus Princeps grade for the duration to provide a clear chain of command.

“Ave,” Germinus Carbo smiled as she returned the crisp salutes the two men had offered. “How go your preparations?”

Fulvius Caepio, as the senior of the two men, answered first. As the Commanding Officer of Amphibious Group I he was responsible for carrying the cohort from Legion XXV Amphibium that was tasked with securing a beachhead that would allow the Legions, and their auxiliary cohorts battlegroups, gathering in Aden to deploy in-force onto Madagascaria. Theres was the most dangerous and difficult part of the entire campaign; securing the beachhead was essential, and was also the one chance that the enemy forces would likely have to throw them back into the sea. After all, once the Legions were ashore it was, essentially, game-over for the enemy. Although this enemy seemed unlikely to be able to withstand the Might of Rome no one, but Fulvius Caepio and the Amphibious Cohort’s senior Centurion in particular, was underestimating their foe. A cornered, weak beast could still be dangerous if underestimated.

“We’ll be ready to go, by the time we arrive,” Fulvius Caepio replied with a nod. “And I don’t know about you, Ma’am, but we’re spoiling for a fight!”

“Make sure that you do,” Germinus Carbo said firmly. “There’ll be a lot of eyes on the Roman Navy to prove our worth and show what we can do; we can’t bank on our reputation as much as the Legions can.”

“We’ll get it done, Ma’am, and we’ll get it done right,” Fulvius Caepio nodded. “We wouldn’t want to give the Legions any excuse to take the piss now, would we?”

Centurion Rufius Atellus Atellus
Roman Naval Base Aden, Emirate of Aden
Saturday 22nd December 2018, 1400hrs Local Time

Rufius Atellus stood with Major Al-Iryani and a small group of senior officers as they stood on the dockside of the Roman Naval Station and watched the procession of ships steam past. Those Roman ships in Aden not in a self- maintenance period, or deployed on other tasks, had been sortied in support of the fleet and would operate under their command for the duration of the campaign unless needed urgently by their own squadron. The group, in addition to Tribune Fabius Catulus there was also the Legatus of the 9th Legion, Gaius Tullius Cordus, and Legatus of the 13th Legion, Marcus Flavius Magnus, both officers having arrived with their staffs the previous day to oversee the final preparations now that the majority of their commands had successfully forward-deployed to they staging positions at the Castrum. The two Legion Commanders were joined by their entire staff of tribunes, including the 9th’s Deputy Commander, Senior Tribune Gaius Flavius Aquila, as well as the Camp Prefects for both legion’s and their first spears (senior centurions). All told there was a significant amount of Roman senior officers stood on the dockside watching the Fleet go past, much to the amusement of the handful of Roman sailors still alongside watching from their own ships.

For himself, Rufius Atellus was very interested. They had watched the Carrier and its escort group go past, followed by the assault ship and its escort group, but he was most interested in the small flotilla of military cargo ships that followed maybe half an hour later, escorted by two Roman frigates. These ships were the backbone of the Roman Military’s ability to deploy its legion’s far and wide, whilst the Legion would deploy by military combat aircraft, to get boots on the ground, their tanks and other armoured vehicles would follow in the transports. Indeed, much of their supplies and ammunition were also carried by other transports in the group less optimised to carry large amounts of armoured vehicles and deploy them directly to the land via ramp than the large roll-on/roll-off transports at the other end. As the old saying went; ‘Amateurs talk tactics, Professionals talk logistics’. The amount of firepower offered by the carrier group was all very well and good, and formidable, but it was the dedicated and efficient supply chain that would keep the Legion ashore and advancing just as much as the air support offered by the carriers.

Rufius Atellus knew that, somewhere aboard one of those ships, was not only the Sagitta infantry fighting vessels that carried the armoured infantry of the legions, but also the Equites main battle tanks that provided the armoured punch and various other artillery, support and logistics vehicles that would keep the 9th Legion pushing forwards. Part of Rome’s success, aside from the might of her Legions, had been the complex and efficient supply chain she had always managed to maintain; keeping her armies in the field fit to fight.

In any case it was all becoming very real now; it had always been possible that the plan would go awry and the invasion be cancelled prior to execution and the build-up in Aden played off as an impromptu training exercise, at least internationally. However, with a sizeable naval Task Force sailing into the Mare Indicus (Indian Ocean) they were, effectively, committed and Rufius Atellus could not imagine a halt being called now, not without an unacceptable loss of face for Rome. There was, after all, more concentrated Roman military power in this part of the world than there had been in decades and that presence was becoming more and more visible and obvious as the pieces were moved into position. Within a week the first airstrikes would begin against enemy targets inside Madagascaria, the cohort from the 25th Legion would secure its beached and Rufius Atellus and his comrades would deploy in-force onto the island to conquer it in the name of Rome… for the good of its people, of course. It all seemed very inveitable, indeed Rufius Atellus knew that, even now, Rome’s intentions were at last being made clear.

Quintus Horatius Saturninus, Consul of Rome
Curia Romanum, Rome
Saturday 22nd December 2018, 1200hrs Local Time

Horatius Saturninus stood on the steps of the Curia Romanum in the Forum and looked out across the crowd of journalists, government workers and other Romans that thronged about the Forum today as they did every day. The crowds were kept at bay by the Roman Vigiles whilst the journalists, which were allowed a little closer to set up their cabers and audio equipment, were separated from Horatius Saturninus and his co-Consul by the two magistrate’s lictors. The pair had just finished presiding over the Senate for a critical vote, the members of which were now stepping out onto the steps behind the two Consuls for the announcement. The two Consuls, but Horatius Saturninus in particular, had spent the past days building a coalition of broad consensus for his audacious plan to expand Rome’s influence in the Mare Indicus, to acquire new land for the military land grants… and to liberate the people of Madagascaria from an oppressive government… although only the last reason was the one that would ever be given if anyone in the Roman Government was ever asked. The Senate had approved the measure by a clear majority, and Horatius Saturninus was assured of sufficient support in the Curia Civis for a declaration of war which, despite the Senate’s role in shaping foreign policy, was firmly in the hands of the people.

Stepping forward to a microphone Horatius Saturninus held up his hand causing the crowd to quieten suddenly as they realised that the Consul was about to reveal what all the fuss was about; few in the Republic had missed the fact that two full Legions had been deployed overseas over the past week, the Saturnalia notwithstanding.

“My fellow citizens! I come before you today to reveal that our great Republic, which has for some time now stood at a fork in the road, has chosen its path forwards and, after today’s senate vote, has embarked down that rode for the glory of Rome!” Horatius Saturninus began formally. “For many years Rome has been kept at bay; after fighting so hard and for so long to rebuild everything that we had lost, across hundreds of years, we, as a people, were exhausted… but today, my friends, I tell you that from now we are reborn afresh!”

Horatius Saturninus paused to allow a cheer.

“For too long, Rome has taken a step-back on the global stage; we’ve maintained our military strength and defended our trade and other interests; stood sentinel watch against those that would do us harm, but we have very much looked inside our own borders,” Horatius Saturninus continued. “Today that ends, as Rome stands ready to take the fight to those that oppose freedom and prosperity, to fight alongside our friends and allies and to defend the defeated and downtrodden who come to Rome to beg our assistance to their cause.”

Horatius Saturninus paused once more.

“That last commitment that I speak of today; Rome has known the rule of tyrants and we don’t care too highly for it; our great Republic stands for personal freedom and private prosperity, for faithful service to the state which guarantees protection in return, yet not all those across the globe share those ideals and we cannot turn aside those that beg our help in the pursuit of such lofty goals,” Horatius Saturninus explained. “Madagascaria, greatest of the islands of the Indicus, and its people lies under the thumb of a tyrannical government and those fighting to free their people from oppression have come to Rome to beg our help in winning their freedom. The gods help those who help themselves, and yet asking for help is not a sign of weakness, indeed it is the surest sign of wisdom.”

Horatius Saturninus smiled as he saw many nodding faces; although Romans valued strength they also valued wisdom and they knew that once upon a time the Roman people had suffered under the tyrannical regime of the Emperors. And yet no one had been there to help the Romans, the had fought their way back to freedom, and everything they, as a people, had gained since. Could they condemn their fellow freedom seekers to oppression just because they needed a little help in reaching the light?

“I therefore tell you now; at my order the 9th and 13th Legions are preparing for deployment to Madagascaria where, along with elements of Rome’s Navy and Volantes, they will enforce the downfall of tyranny and set about the rise of freedom under Roman protection and guidance, for the good of Madagascaria and the glory of Rome,” Horatius Saturninus said firmly, more nods following as the crowd now understood the troop movements. “Rome has a tradition and responsibility of leadership; those that cannot govern themselves, or need guidance, are ours to lead, protect and guide towards a prosperous future together… what we will do is as servants of that great tradition and of this eternal city and the Republic for which it stands, so pray, I beg you, citizens of Rome, that the gods may give us victory in the name of strength and honour!”

[-Roma Invicta-]

Decurion Princeps Marcus Calidius Aculeo
RNS Aventine, North of Madagascaria
Thursday 27 December 2018, 0700hrs Local Time

Decurion Princeps Marcus Calidius Aculeo grinned fiercely as his Sicarius Mark I tactical strike fighter was catapulted from the decks of the Aircraft Carrier Aventine and into the early morning haze. The carrier was conducting high-tempo strike operations, generating a major sortie that would open hostilities with Madagascaria. The three state-of-the-art electro-magnetic catapults, which had replaced old-fashioned steam catapults on Rome’s newest aircraft carriers, were launching fighters into the sky as quickly as the flight deck crew could get them into place and perform the standard safety checks. Above a tanker aircraft was busy refuelling the first aircraft to be launched to ensure that all of the fighters involved in the opening attack had as much fuel as possible. Calidius Aculeo was amongst the last to get off the deck, but then that was perhaps hardly surprising as he was a Squadron Commander and he and his counterpart in the other squadron had been going over the last minute details of the attack plan with the Wing Prefect, who ranked alongside the Ship’s Prefect, with the Nauarchus to ensure there weren’t any mistakes. Indeed, although he shared a rank with his counterpart he was the senior of the two and, as such, was in command of the attack.

After a short time Calidius Aculeo looked around himself and, after being satisfied that the two-squadron attack group was formed up and ready to go, thumbed the ‘talk’ button on his stick.

“Delta, this is Iota-Lead,” Calidius Aculeo said crisply and clearly. “All aircraft formed up and ready to go.”

“Message received, Iota,” The Wing Prefect replied a moment later. “Upsilon, this is Delta, execute attack plan.”

Upsilon was the callsign used by the air controller aboard the Airborne Warning and Control System (AWACS) aircraft that had launched from the carrier prior to the first fighters.

“Iota-Lead, Upsilon, vector your flights in for attack against pre-designated targets, break, Zeta-Lead, cover Iota and await attack orders.”

Calidius Aculeo nodded to himself and now thumbed the squadron tactical net.

“Iota-5, Iota-Lead, commence suppression of enemy air defences in Sector One & Two, break,” Calidius Aculeo ordered crisply, pausing briefly for any essential traffic. Iota-9, wait for Iota-5 to report clear skies then hit missile launchers in the same sectors… Iota 2, 3 & 4 our target is the missile boats.”

“Iota-Lead, Iota-5, received, rolling in on attack profile.”

“Iota-Lead, Iota-9, received, moving into holding position.”

Calidius Aculeo watched as four Sicarius strike fighters pulled ahead of the rest of his squadron and split into combat-pairs to conduct their attacks. The Sicarius Mark I was the current state-of-the-art fighter design in the Roman Military; operated by both the Volantes and the Navy’s air arm the Sicarius was a stealthy design optimised for strike operations, but with sufficient fighter pedigree to give herself a good showing in air-to-air combat. Whilst the Sicarius might not be able to stand toe-to-toe with the Bellator Mark III, the Roman designation for the very capable Eurofighter, it was entirely possible that the Bellator would not detect the Sicarius before it was too late. Whilst the Bellator was more than capable of ground attack with her swing-role designation, it did not excel in the same way that the Sicarius did; it's stealth allowing it to penetrate enemy air defences and strike with impunity. It was therefore not surprising that it was a quartet of Sicarius that had been chosen to conduct the suppression of enemy air defence (SEAD) mission that would clear the way for the rest of the strike package. Intelligence had pinned down the early warning radar systems in the northern third of Madagascaria, dubbed Sector One for the area around Antsiranana, Rome’s first real strategic target, and Sector Two for the broader northern third of the island.

After a time Calidius Aculeo looked down at his radar screen and watched as the lead fighters in each of the pairs launched two AGM-88E advanced anti-radiation guided missiles, all four missiles sharply diverging shortly after launch. These missiles were targeted on the enemy radar sites, four of which had been located. As the missiles approached the radar sites shut down and their emissions ceased, but the advanced avionics aboard the missiles remembered where the emissions had come from and continued to guide their missiles in on their target. A short time later, and regrettably out of sight from Calidius Aculeo’s position, the enemy early warning radar sites disappeared in fireballs as all four missiles struck home successfully on their targets.

"Iota-Lead, Iota-5, enemy radar sites are history… hunting for mobile units.”

“Iota-9, Iota-Lead, move in at your discretion,” Calidius Aculeo ordered crisply. “Iota-5, commence Iron Hand patrol in support.”

Four aircraft of his squadron’s third flight began to make their way forwards, these aircraft were loaded to bear carrying munitions on their wings at the expense of stealth (compared to the others which had gone in ‘clean’). They began manoeuvring towards the string of Silkworm missile emplacements that were arrayed along the coastline, the Madagascaria government clearly made the decision some time ago to rely upon mainly fixed defences instead of a larger, and more powerful, navy or airforce. They had been effective enough, deterring lesser foes for many years up until this point, but against a large, sophisticated foe, it was only a matter of how much it would cost their attacker to destroy them.

As the third flight moved in the act that Calidius Aculeo and Iota-5’s flight had been waiting for; the first of the mobile SAM sites lit off their own radars. It had been an impossible decision that the enemy soldiers manning the sites had been forced to make. Under ideal circumstances the mobile SAM sites could remain hidden, relying on the early warning radar to guide their missiles after launch. Now, against aircraft without the ability to engage the sites from outside the SAMs own range this worked perfectly… however Calidius Aculeo’s fighters possessed weapons that could do just that. It was part of the reason why the designers of surface-based air defence were consistently developing longer-ranged missiles. Now that their external guidance had been destroyed the SAM gunners had been forced to make a decision… did they lie low and avoid detection, thereby saving their skins and equipment but be unlikely to get any kills, or risk bringing up their own radar, ensuring destruction but increasing the likelihood of taking some of their foes with them. In this case the Madagascarian Government’s troops had elected for the latter, little good that it would do them. This was the critical weakness of a ground-based air defence network, without a complementing defensive counter-air (DCA) element provided by an air force the SAM sites were easy pickings for attacking fighters… especially stealth fighters that could move about the airspace with impunity before launching their strikes.

As the enemy SAM installations focused their attentions on the incoming ‘dirty’ birds they were struck pre-emptively by the still-stealthy aircraft of the second flight; in this case cluster munitions designed to spread destruction across the wide area favoured by mobile SAM sites, ensuring that one or two canisters would likely get all the launch vehicles. Submunitions rained down on the enemy positions, wrecking devastation as they did so, the smart munitions that did not find themselves a target self-destructing against the ground in an effort to avoid long-term collateral damage brought about by unexploded submunitions. Only two SAM sites got off a missile before they were destroyed; the first of which cleanly missed its target thanks to a well-timed jink after a head-on engagement, whilst the second clipped a Sicarius’s wing; only the skill, training and composure of the pilot allowed him to return safely to the carrier, and it was a damn tightly run affair. Calidius Aculeo could not afford to dwell on such matters, and would not know the fate of one of his pilots until he himself returned to the carrier after the mission, for the aircraft of his second flight were engaging the Silkworm missile launchers and his own flight was turning its attention to the enemy missile boats.

Favoured by small nations due to their relatively cheap price, and their ability to pack a hell of a wallop for that price, missile boats were a very real and present danger to even the largest capital ships. Sure, a missile boat would never survive an engagement with a true warship, but odds were good that they would sink it and in the cold arithmetic of war that was a very acceptable exchange rate. It was largely for this reason that the fleet was holding well; the enemy might lack the numbers, even with missile boats, to put a dent in the Roman attack force but they could certainly sink at least one ship, if they got through the Roman anti-missile defences, and if Fortuna choose not to shine on them that ship could be the carrier. This was, of course, the strength of the carrier battle group in modern naval warfare; the fighter wing allowed the group to stay back, out of the action, and remove threats without ever coming into range, and it was precisely that which was about to happen to the Madagascarian missile boats.

Now, unlike the enemy radar installations and Silkworm batteries the missile boats were underway, fast and agile, which posed more of a challenge for the Romans. Where the previous strikes had relied upon either anti-radiation seekers, for the SEAD strikes, or simple GPS targeting based on extensive scouting, this attack would need a little more finesse. Of the four aircraft in Calidius Aculeo’s lead flight two of them were equipped with the AN/ASQ-228 Advanced Targeting Forward-Looking Infrared (ATFLIR) targeting pods, as well as GPS-guided bombs for their own attacks, and it would be these two aircraft that would laser designate the missile boats. Turning his attention away from the wider battle, Calidius Aculeo watched as the two targeting aircraft pulled ahead and diverged as they descended to designate the targets, sure enough a few minutes later two targets popped up on his targeting display. After a brief check with his wingman to confirm that they were going after separate targets, Calidius Aculeo armed a Paveway-IV laser guided bomb and, with a squeeze of the trigger, deployed the weapon, a slight jolt as the aircraft lost a little weight the only indication that he had just dropped 500lbs of hurt.

The Paveway, and it's counterpart dropped from Calidius Aculeo’s wingman, glided downwards, the control surfaces of the bomb adjusting its trajectory and glide path as they received updates from the laser designation. This would allow them to continuously update their attack profile in response to evasive manoeuvring from the missile boats; who were zigzagging in response to the general attack but were not conducting particularly dramatic manoeuvres as they were not yet aware that they were under attack. By the time they were, it would be far too late. In a higher threat environment, with more targets to take out, the Romans would likely have used another system such as the AGM-65 Maverick to take out missile boat targets, but the latest iterations of the Maverick were far more expensive than a Paveway IV and as such the cost-benefit analysis had made their decision. Not that it mattered all that much in the grand scheme of things; guided directly in on their targets both Paveway IVs struck home on their targets, scoring direct hits thanks to continuous designation, breaking the banks of the missile boats and sending them below the waves in short order.

“All Iota flight leaders, this is Iota-Lead,” Calidius Aculeo said with satisfied smile. “Report status.”

“Iota-Lead, Iota-5, report eight enemy SAM sites destroyed, we are red on ordnance.”

“Iota-Lead, Iota-9, report twelve enemy missile batteries destroyed, we are yellow on ordnance.”

“Iota-5, Iota-Lead, message received and understood, you are clear to return to the carrier,” Calidius Aculeo ordered after a moment, eight SAMs sites was just about what Praetorian Intelligence had predicted would be present in the immediate area, their removal would clear the way for operations around Antsiranana. “ Iota-9, Iota-Lead, expend any further ordnance on targets of opportunity in accordance with rules of engagement, then return to the carrier at your discretion, break, Upsilon, Iota-Lead.”

“Iota-Lead, Upsilon, send traffic.”

“Upsilon, Iota-Lead, all known SAM sites in sectors one and two are destroyed, the door is open.”

“ Iota-Lead, Upsilon, roger that,” The Air Controller acknowledged. “Zeta-Lead, this is Upsilon; you are clear to commence attack.”

Now that Calidius Aculeo and his squadron had taken out the enemy air defences in the immediate area around Antsiranana, and struck key mission-critical targets, the door was wide open for the non-stealthy Bellators to commence their own strikes. The squadron commander’s flight was equipped with the Meteor beyond-visual-range air-to-air missile (BVRAAM), and was tasked with providing offensive-counter-air for the strike whilst the remaining eight aircraft were outfitted with an array of missiles and guided bombs of varying sizes and capability depending on the targets they had been assigned. These targets had been selected over the past few days using satellite reconnaissance of the area around Antsiranana, and consisted of key communications and command clusters, hard points and storage depots amongst others. In short, this phase of the opening strikes was designed to degrade the enemy’s military infrastructure in and around the target area, and to deprive them of efficient command and control.

“Upsilon, this is Zeta-Lead,” The Squadron Commander of the Bellator squadron reported suddenly. “Contact, Fresco.”

Calidius Aculeo’s eyebrows raised in surprise; they had all known that the Madagascarian Government had a half-dozen MiG-17 subsonic jet fighters but no one had really expected them to take to the skies to oppose the Roman assault. After all, they were hopelessly outmatched by the Roman aircraft on a technical level, and it was doubtful that the Madagascarian Air Force could afford regular training flights meaning that they were outmatched on a skill level as well. Never the less, none of the Roman aviators could afford to leave those MiGs unattended, it would be awfully embarrassing to get downed by an old MiG because you weren’t paying attack, and the four Bellators assigned to fly offensive-counter-air surged forwards to engage their targets, not that they needed to get all that close. The Meteor was one of the most advanced air-to-air missiles in the world, it was fast, agile and had a no-escape zone some three times that of the nearest competitor; against old, slow MiGs there was no contest… and of course the Bellators could engage from far outside the range of the MiGs own, aged, air-to-air missiles.

Calidius Aculeo watched as six missiles sped through the skies in front of him, leaving distinctive white contrails in their wake as they bore in on the target. Unlike other missiles, whose rocket engines had only one setting, the Meteor had a throttle-able system which allowed it to adjust its speed throughout the flight, ensuring that it arrived at its target with fuel remaining the manoeuvre, which allowed for such a deadly no-escape-zone. Top-of-the-line fighters would have struggled to escape a Meteor, especially fired at the (relatively ) close range the Bellators had been able to safely close to, for the MiGs there was no hope, and all six contacts disappeared from Calidius Aculeo’s situation display, although reports quickly came in of parachutes being sighted.

“Upsilon, Zeta-Lead, splash six bandits.”

“Zeta-Lead, Upsilon; roger that, good work.” The Air Controller replied. “Iota-Lead, Upsilon, you are clear to return to the carrier.”

Calidius Aculeo acknowledged the instruction and reformed his squadron and they began to head back towards the carrier. As the Squadron Commandeer, Calidius Aculeo would wait until last however the rest of the squadron would land depending on who had the least remaining fuel, which had been monitored by the air staff aboard the carrier. It took some time to get the rest of the squadron on the deck, although not as long as one might think thanks to the efficiency of the deck crew, but soon enough he was approaching the carrier from the bows, up ahead the aircraft that he was following in was on final approach.

“This is 414, abeam, pilot Aculeo,” Calidius Aculeo’s weapons system officer reported to the air traffic controller aboard the carrier.

At this point, once Calidius Aculeo had confirmed that the aircraft ahead of him was about to land, he performed what was known as the ‘carrier break’, a left hand overhead performed at approximately 800 feet and 350 knots that would take his aircraft out wide and in on the stern of the carrier, ensuring that the aircraft would arrive at 60 second intervals. As he began the final turn Calidius Aculeo conducted the landing checklist, ensuring that all three wheels were down and locked, the flaps were on full and the hook was down and locked, descending in height as he did so. Once he had settled into ‘the groove’, the final portion of the approach, he identified ‘the ball’, an orange orb of light emitted by the landing system that would let him know where he was on the glide slope.

“414, Sicarius, ball, fuel state red, 9.0.” Calidius Aculeo said crisply, ‘calling the ball’,

“Roger ball,” The Landing Signals Officer (LSO) replied promptly.

From this point on it was simply a case of small, almost unnoticeable stick inputs and minor power corrections to account for loss in lift as she aircraft slowed, to ensure that it maintained a proper position on the glide scope. As the carrier deck grew in front of him Calidius Aculeo turned his attention to keeping the ball in the correct place, ‘flying the ball’ rather than ‘flying the deck’ as sone aviators had a tendency to do, then, almost as a surprise, the touchdown came. He immediately throttled up to full military power, just in case he had not grabbed one of the arrestor wires but after quick confirmation in his ear that he had he throttled down as the deck crew ran in to secure the aircraft and taxied quickly from the aircraft to allow any further aircraft to be landed. Up ahead he could also see two fresh Bellator fighters being prepared on two of the three forward catapults to fly the Combat Air Patrol (CAP), although intelligence suggested they had destroyed all of the Madagascarian aircraft no aircraft carrier would operate without a CAP up, just in case. After all, it wasn’t just the Madagascarians that might have an axe to grind.

Handing his helmet to the first of the deck crew to climb up the ladder at the side of his aircraft to assist him he smiled broadly as he looked down at his Crew Chief, a Decanus (who held a rate equivalent to a Petty Officer), who already had a stencil and special paint (that would allow him to paint over the stealth coating without compromising it) and began applying the mark of an enemy patrol boat, signifying Calidius Aculeo’s kill.

“Why do I feel that if I bombed the crap out of a whale you’d have a whale stencil to paint on my bird,” Calidius Aculeo commented with a chuckle as he climbed down from the aircraft. “Not had an air-to-air kill in a while…”

“That’s what happens when you start flying a stealth fighter sir,” The Decanus grinned. “Your not supposed to get into scraps.”

“But that’s just boring,” Calidius Aculeo grinned back. “Well, if I can’t do that let’s get her loaded to bear for the next sortie… no need for subtly now that we’ve knocked out their air defence.”

“Roger that, Sir,” The Decanus nodded. “I’ll get you more ordinance than you’ll know what to do with.”

“I don’t now, Decanus,” Calidius Aculeo smiled wryly. “I’m sure I can find something to do with all of it!”

[-Roma Invicta-]

Centurion Marcus Bantius Carnifex
Antsiranana, Madagascar
Monday 31st December 2018, 0700hrs

The Roman helicopters, assault versions of the AW101 ‘Merlin’ (or as the Romans called it the ‘Vulcan’), began to take small arms fire as they approached Antsiranana, however they were equipped with modular armour plating around the cabin area and the engines and weathered the fire well. The door-mounted miniguns buzzed in reply, raining 7.62mm down upon the city like a hailstorm. The effectiveness of the four days of air strikes in degrading the enemy capabilities around the city had ensured that the ring of surface to air missile batteries had been destroyed, but it could not remove the threat of man-portable air-defence systems (MANPADS), and 9K32 Strela-2 missiles screamed into the sky. Fortunately, for the Romans, the Strela-2 was a first generation system and easily distracted. Never the less, although the Roman Vulcans were equipped with the latest countermeasure systems, luck could only go so far and one enemy missile charged undeterred upon one of the helicopters and the craft was soon spiralling in flames towards the water of Antsiranana Bay, along with the forty Roman Marine Legionaries it had been carrying. Ultimately however, the remaining eleven Vulcans descended on the chosen landing zone; the wide beach on the southern edge of the bay.

The beach had been chosen as the landing zone for its ability to land all of the helicopters at once, whilst also being the closest such landing zone that was not too close to major enemy hard points. Any other landing points would have entailed a long tactical advance to battle, which would have given their foes ample time to reposition to best counter their attack. The beach was also the only location that the landing craft could bring ashore the armoured vehicles, which meant that securing the beachhead was essential.

Marcus Bantius Carnifex, Centurion of the 4th Century of the 2nd Cohort of Legio XXV Amphibium, the Roman Military’s elite amphibious infantry, watched from the back of the Vulcan as Bellator fighters flied low over the city. By all accounts the city had been abandoned by the majority of its inhabitants, fleeing southwards from the coming fighting. Although it was not widely known to the common soldiers, as a Centurion, Bantius Carnifex had been informed during the final pre-assault briefing that Praetorian Intelligence contacts had been working with the rebels to facilitate the evacuation of the city under the very noses of the Government troops. The last thing that Rome needed, in the interests of both its long-term strategy and intentions in Madagascar and its position on the world stage, was for there to be heavy civilian casualties during its conquest of Madagascar. Damage could, and would, be rebuilt in short order after the end of hostilities, but civilian deaths would throw a long shadow over the island and future relations between Rome and its soon-to-be newest province.

Bantius Carnifex gripped his weapon, a Beretta ARX-160 Gladius, tightly as the Vulcan flared towards the beach and as soon as helicopter touched down on the sand he sprinted down the ramp and became the first Roman Marine on Madagascar, joined shortly thereafter by the thirty-nine other Marines who followed and began to set-up an all-around defence, flat on their stomachs in the sand. The Romans came under scattered fire almost immediately, but it was not too heavy for there was only a platoon-sized enemy force covering the beach. Within a minute of having touched down the Vulcans were taking back to the skies and the Roman Marines were organising themselves for their breakout from the beach. Bantius Carnifex glanced about him and spotted the other half of his century, led by his Optio (his second in command), Lucius Tadius Viridio, hurrying over as the Vulcans laid down covering fire to allow the cohort to consolidate itself. Bantius Carnifex was relived that it had not been half of his century that had been in the downed Vulcan, for such a loss was worse than losing men in honourable close combat with the enemy.

“All present and correct, Centurion,” Signifier Tadius Viridio reported crisply. “Ready to advance.”

Bantius Carnifex looked about him and surveyed the enemy positions. The enemy platoon, which was keeping its head down under minigun fire from the Vulcans, held a strong defensive position between the beach and the city, but by sheer necessity they had left the rest of the beach unguarded. It made sense, after all there was little more than a company of troops in the city and they were all scattered about trying to protect key positions. Bantius Carnifex suspected that the Madagascarian Government had already determined the city lost, indeed he suspected that they were already looking for ways to fleet the island, but had ordered their troops to hold the city and make the Romans pay for every inch of the city. Urban warfare was a slow slog at the best of times, but it had to be done and the Roman Marines were fully prepared for it.

“Alright lads, let’s get off this beach!” Bantius Carnifex shouted to his men and, gesturing forward with his rifle, led them towards the road at the top of the beach.

The century scrambled up the sand towards the road and several contubernium took up overwatch positions as the rest of the unit scrambled onto the road and took up their own positions, facing towards the unseen enemy further down the road. The first order of business was to push forwards and flank that enemy platoon; a Roman century was made up of three officers and eighty-two enlisted soldiers, which made it far larger than a platoon and similar in size to a small company. However, Roman military tactics called for centuries to be the main tactical unit and as such were used in much the same way a platoon would be. What this meant was that a Roman century would enjoy a significant advantage in men and firepower over the enemy unit it was most likely to encounter during its own activities, an enemy platoon, and would have the ability to give a good showing of itself should it encounter a large enemy company-sized force. Moreover, each century possessed three specialist contubernium equipped with general purpose machine guns, mortars and anti-tank weapons giving the century an organic heavy weapons capability. It was largely this imbalance of power between a Roman Century and its likely opponents, an enemy platoon, that played a significant role in modern Roman military success. The strength of the century also ensured that if it came up against a larger enemy force it would likely be able to hold its position long enough for its sister centuries to move up to support it.

As it was Bantius Carnifex arrayed the three general purpose machine guns of his machine gun contubernium in a half circle to secure their rear and flank, leaving the anti-armour and mortar teams with them as well, under the command of his Tesserarius (his third in command, or watch officer), instead advancing with the remaining seven rifle contubernium. The Roman Marines, eager to take the pressure of their comrades on the beach and effect a true breakout, advanced quickly along the road until they could see the flank of the enemy position a little further up the rode. Bantius Carnifex paused and barked hurried orders into the century radio net and a few moments later the distinctive sound of falling mortars could be heard and two explosions erupted on the enemy position. Unlike the Marines on the beach, who had been unable to get their mortars set up for fear of being targeted, the mortar teams on the road had no such problem and had been able to drop two mortar bombs onto the Madagascarian position with precision. With the enemy in disarray Bantius Carnifex urged his men forwards and the century advanced, half the sections providing covering fire as the other half advanced to the next position of cover in the classic ‘bounding overwatch’ advance.

The Madagascarian unit was struggling to maintain its cohesion as half continued to rain ineffectual fire down on the Romans on the beach, most of the other half turned to face Bantius Carnifex’s unit whilst a few even took potshots against the helicopters high above. It was obvious, Bantius Carnifex mused much later, that the platoon’s officer had likely been killed in the mortar strike and as such the platoon had been unable to offer effective resistance to the larger Roman century.

With a shout of approval from the beach the rest of the Roman centuries that had been pinned down on the beach surged forwards and swarmed over onto the road, their Centurions arranging them in defensive positions around the beachhead. Bantius Carnifex spared a glance onto the beach and gritted his teeth as he saw lifeless bodies lying on the sand. The casualties the Romans had sustained during their initial landing would have been far worse, had it not been for his century’s flanking attack thus avoiding a frontal assault, but any contested landing was deadly. So far, Bantius Carnifex estimated that the Romans had lost maybe fifty men, and at least a dozen more were wounded and being tended at the ad hoc aid post that was being established in a dip in the landscape. Looking out into the bay he could see the distinctive form of a Roman frigate, leading a small group of LCACs and other landing craft towards the beach that the Marines had just captured. The frigates forward 127mm naval gun was firing every few seconds, targeting emplacements positioned around the bay, the aft 76mm secondary gun atop the hanger was also engaging targets of opportunity.

Bantius Carnifex could not, however, spend too much time watching the Navy at work, as he was approached by Centurion Princeps Titus Paulus Felix, the Cohort Commander.

“Centurion, a fine flanking action,” Paulus Felix said complimentarily. “There’s no rest for the wicked, however, I’ve got a job for you.”

“The 4th Century is good to go, Sir,” Bantius Carnifex replied firmly, glancing around at his men arrayed in defensive positions, his subordinate bother officers keeping an eye on them and their surroundings. “Where do you need us?”

“There is a contubernium from the Seventh Praetorian Cohort set-up in an Observation Post approximately seven kllometers south of here, overlooking Arrachart Airport,” Paulus Felix answered simply, producing a map and indicating the position of both the airport and the Praetorians. “It’s not much to look at, but it’s an honest-to-gods runway and we’ll be able to bring equipment and troops in, we’ve got the 9 and 13th Legions at Aden just itching to get down here.”

Bantius Carnifex nodded. The Praetorian Guard, once infamous for its political entanglements was now renowned for its professionalism and capabilities. The first five Praetorian Cohorts, which were large than their Legion counterparts, handled internal security and military intelligence for Rome, the remaining cohorts were Special Operations Forces, each with a specific role. The Sixth Praetorian Cohort, for example, was Rome’s premier counterterrorism unit whilst the Seventh Praetorian Cohort were experts in long-range recognisance patrols and tactical observation. It made sense that the Basilica Militum would have deployed some special forces into Madagascar, aside from those already working with the rebels, although this was the first time he had heard of it for reasons of compartmentalisation.

“You want us to take the airfield, I take it?” Bantius Carnifex stated.

“Indeed, I’m going to take the cohort into the city, but we’ve already got elements from the 9th Legion in the air,” Paulus Felix replied with a wry smile. “Let’s make sure they’ve got somewhere to land, right Centurion?”

“Right, Sir,” Bantius Carnifex nodded.

Palus Felix nodded his own approval and turned back to the rest of the Cohort. They would have to wait for the tanks and armoured vehicles to come ashore before they could start moving into the city, but Bantius Carnifex and his men had no such problem. It would take them the better part of two hours to advance southwards to the Praetorian’s position, if they wanted to maintain tactical cohesion and readiness. So Bantius Carnifex gathered his Marines, gave a quick briefing, and began their advance southwards along the road.

As Bantius Carnifex and his century advanced southwards the rest of the cohort consolidated their position around the beachhead, brought the armour ashore and began their advance into the city. Their progress would be slow, armour and infantry working in close concert with each other to avoid stumbling into any ambushes. The one saving grace of this particular urban assault was the small size of the enemy garrison; there simply wasn’t enough of them to properly defend the city; where more could have delayed them for days, if not weeks, and cost them dear to do so, less than a hundred could only delay them for so long. Moreover, as much as the Roman Legions were experts at maneuverer warfare they were no slacks in urban combat either, and whilst the Auxiliary Cohorts were experts in urban defence the Legions had concentrated on urban offence and spent almost as much time in urban training areas as they did on the plains and highlands of Italy and Spain.

For Bantius Carnifex and his century however things were far simpler. They linked up with the Praetorians in their observation in the tree-line, just off the road; indeed even though they knew they were there they would have been hard-pressed to spot them, and certainly not in time to have survived the feat. After a quick conference with the Praetorian Decanus, Bantius Carnifex returned to his century. What unfolded next was a classic Roman ‘century assault’. Once they had advanced close enough the machine gun section set themselves up in a advantageous position, that would give them firing lines all along the perimeter, as did the mortar section and the anti-tank section to ensure a central location from which they could provide heavy weapons support as required. The rest of the century, under Bantius Carnifex’s direct command, advanced forwards using a bounding overwatch, half the century skirmishing forwards as they other provided covering fire, as they came under fire shortly after beginning their advance. The mortar section laid down smoke screens to provide cover for the advancing Marines, which combined with the overwatch sufficed to make the enemy fire random and light.

Once the Romans were inside the perimeter they spread across the airfield quickly, under the careful control of Bantius Carnifex as he orchestrated a sweep of the airfield. By the end the remaining hold-outs surrendered and he had only a few wounded men to show for it, which was far better than he had expected. As the century regrouped around the control tower Bantius Carnifex radioed his success into the Cohort command post. It was only a short time later that a newly brought ashore Puma light armoured fighting vehicle, a vehicle favoured across the Roman Military to provide utility transport and logistical support when true armoured vehicles weren’t required, brought the Centurion Princeps down to the newly captured airfield. The Cohort Commanders vehicle was halted and challenged at the gate by the newly installed Roman sentries, before being allowed to proceed into the inner perimeter; this was an active war zone and the Romans could not afford to take their chances.

Bantius Carnifex met Paulus Felix outside the control tower building, which also served as the headquarters for the airfield, and greeted his commanding officer warmly, although as per protocol did not salute due to the potential risk of snipers.


“How fare things in the city, Sir?” Bantius Carnifex queried as they made their way into the building.

“Slowly, we’re having to go house-by-house to clear the place” Paulus Felix replied dryly. “By all accounts the enemy has broken down into as little as fire team strength, but they’ve had all weekend to prepare and their holed up in damn good positions.”

Bantius Carnifex nodded his understanding. Although the Roman Military had the upper hand in numbers, firepower, training and experience, and could therefore beat the defending Madagascarian Government troops in a straight up fight, it also gave the defenders every incentive not to fight straight-up. As such, rather than commit to a conventional defence of the city which would have favoured the Romans, the defenders had clearly instead elected to spread out and fight them from small, but well placed, defensive positions. This meant two things; the first was that each of these individual defensive hard-points, although manned by as little as four enemy soldiers, would take even a larger Roman force some time to flush them out from. The second was that the Romans would, by necessity, have to assume that every building they passed could hold a defensive enemy force, and as such they had to go slowly and methodically search each and every one of them, lest they take casualties as a result of a lack of caution. All this meant was that taking the city would be a long, hard slog, even if the Romans could not use this airfield to bring in additional troops, they would have to retain a significant force in and around the city to protect their rear as the soon-to-arrive Legions advanced southwards.

It was, ultimately, doomed to failure if Roman willpower remained steadfast, as Bantius Carnifex was confident it would, but it was a damn good strategy on the part of the Madagascarian Government, and damn smart too. Whatever else might be said about this campaign, none could ever call it easy. He just hoped that the higher-ups belief that the rebels, could bring sufficient support to the post-war Roman administration to avoid an insurgency, as that would, if anything, be even worse than this.

“And we can expect to face that in every city or town garrisoned by the enemy,” Bantius Carnifex said out-loud after a few moments thought. “I hope the Consul is right about the support we can expect from the rebels, Sir.”

“So do I, Centurion,” Paulus Felix agreed. “What do you know about the rebels?”

“Only what was in the briefing packs, Sir; they’re a hodgepodge group of pretty much anyone who has been wronged by the Government, and given the excesses and atrocities, that’s quite a diverse and sizeable group,” Bantius Carnifex replied. “There’s all sorts of different ideologies at work there, and ethnic groups, and whilst that means that they’ve got a lot of support for their anti-government aims they have, according to the brief, avoided discussing what happens if the succeed.”

“Almost,” Paulus Felix nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “This is for yours, and the other Centurions, ears only.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Part of the reason why the rebellion was so eager to accept our terms when the Consul offered to help was because it solved that very question; the leadership of the rebellion, generally smart men and women, knew that once their unifying aim was achieved they’d start to struggle,” Paulus Felix explained. “There’s just too many competing ideas in there, and no single faction is powerful enough to rule over the rest, civil war would be almost a certainty… however, the leaders of all the major factions have agreed to support a Roman administration, so long as they have a voice in an advisory council.”

“Don’t we risk unifying them against us?” Bantius Carnifex frowned.

“Possibly, however there are of course certain benefits to joining up with Rome; with access to our economy and connections their standard of living will increase, their opportunities will expand and they’ll be protected,” Paulus Felix shook his head. “The Basilica Militum’s general hope is that, by the time the ‘honeymoon’ period has worn off the benefits of being part of our Republic will be enough to quell any ideas of independence… and of course, all of this is to provide space for military land grants, so planting retired Legionaries here won’t exactly hurt the romanisation process.”

Bantius Carnifex nodded his understanding again; he was of plebeian stock and had worked his way up from the ranks and as such although the Roman public education system provided a well-rounded knowledge base, it did not provide the same kind of strategic and geopolitical education as provided by private tutors of the wealthy, or provided by the Roman Military Academy. Of course, Paulus Felix had risen from the ranks as well, as had all members of the Centurionate, but as a senior Centurion Princeps he had had far more exposure to the higher levels of command and it had clearly rubbed off on the older man.

“What do we do now, Sir?” He said simply.

“We’re going to start airlifting the Legions in from Aden, and start to bring their armour ashore once we’ve got a suitable stretch of harbour to get those transport in safely, but your concern here at the airfield is the former,” Paulus Felix replied firmly. “Our cohort will keep clearing the city, but the Consul is eager to get the 9th and 13th down here in as much strength as possible, so your job is to watch our flank for any sign of a counterattack, and watch-over the transports as they come in.”

“You got it sir,” Bantius Carnifex nodded, glancing down at his watch, it was shortly after noon. “We’ll watch your flank.”

[Marimaia]

OOC: This is a Joint Post between Marimaia and -Roma INVICTA-

Centurion Publius Rufius Atellus
Antsiranana Airfield, Madagascar
Monday 31st December 2018, 1700hrs Local Time

“As you can probably tell by the evasive action we’re taking, we are flying into an active war zone!” Rufius Atellus yelled to his men, hanging onto some cargo webbing by the ramp as the transport aircraft banked sharply and began to ascend. “Once we land we’ll be heading directly to our vehicles and straight into the action, so be ready to go!”

Rufius Atellus hung on tightly as the Adonias Mk.I transport aircraft, the Roman name for the A400M, banked sharply again as it completed its go around and prepared for its actual landing. It was standard procedure for transport aircraft flying into a hot landing zone to launch an aborted landing attempt on their first approach, maintaining enough airspeed to evade any ground fire that their attempt might attract. The theory was that any enemy forces on the ground would open fire on the first attempt, not knowing whether there would be a second, in order to hit the aircraft whilst it was at its most vulnerable, slow and straight, and valuable, full of troops or cargo. Therefore, if no fire was forthcoming it stood to reason that it was safe to attempt a proper landing the second time around. Sure enough, after not attracting any fire on their first attempt the Adonias was able to touch down safely on the second approach and was quickly taxied towards the waiting ground crew for a rapid refueling. Not only did the aircraft have more troops to bring down, but the hangers of the captured airfield would not offer any sort of protection to aircraft stored within, civilian in nature as they were.

Almost as soon as the aircraft had slowed to a complete stop the ramp was lowered and Rufius Atellus’ century, and their Caliphate observation detail, were quickly hurried off the aircraft by the loadmasters. Each of the Adonias transports completing a mission to Madagascar brought a full century of troops, just under three quarters of the capacity of the aircraft, with the remaining space taken up by critical supplies and equipment. The Legionaries were off the aircraft in seconds and had formed up into a smart formation on the hardstanding, as the loadmasters began to unload the cargo and the ground crew began to refuel the aircraft. A harried looking Decanus directed them towards the holding area for the vehicles and moved onto the next group; the entire hardstanding area was busy with troops and ground crew. With their destination now known the century set off, not marching given that it was a combat zone, but walking together in a smart, cohesive group towards the holding area.

In the holding area they found a Marine Centurion, from the 25th Amphibious Legion, directing the troops to their specific vehicles where their drivers would be waiting for them. As his century was directed towards the correct place Rufius Atellus clasped arms with his brother officer in a gesture of solidarity.

“How goes the war?” Rufius Atellus queried. “Centurion?”

“Bantius Carnifex,” The Marine Officer replied, then smiled. “So far so good, but these bastards are damn persistent in making us go building-to-building in the city.”

“So we were told,” Rufius Atellus nodded. “Any idea were they want us?”

“Not as such,” Bantius Carnifex shook his head. “But there’s word that the enemy might be preparing a counterattack.”

“We’d best get going then,” Rufius Atellus replied. “Strength and Honour to you.”

“Strength and Honour.”

Waiting for the 5th Century were twelve Sagitta infantry fighting vehicles, the backbone of the Legions, sufficient to carry the entire century into battle and provide them with fire support. The vehicles, which could carry eight Legionaries apiece in a well-protected shell, were armed with a 25mm autocannon and were a good complement to the Equites main battle tank that provided the legion’s main offensive punch. The entire structure and doctrine of the Roman Legion was focused around the idea of a combined arms attack; armour supported by infantry. It ensured that no tank unit would advance unsupported by infantry, and that the heavy infantry of the Legions would never be too far away from armour support. It wasn’t suited for all types of combat of course, which was why each Legion was supplemented by auxiliary cohorts of lighter, motorised infantry to make up the Legion Battlegroup. Nevertheless, if there was a counterattack brewing, Rufius Atellus was eager to get going.

“Mount up!” Rufius Atellus ordered crisply, before turning to Major Al-Iryani. “Well Major, you’re with me in the command vehicle.”

Major Al-Iryani nodded in agreement. “Understood. Let’s see this done as quickly as possible, I’ll admit to not being a fan of urban combat. Too much potential for the enemy to use civilians as shields.”

“Agreed, even though the majority of the civilian population were advised to leave through our contacts in the rebellion, some are still in the city,” Rufius Atellus agreed with a grim expression. “That just makes the job of our people clearing the city that much harder, not only do they have to keep an eye out for hostiles but for civilians too.”

Rufius Atellus shrugged and ducked down to enter one of two command IFVs in the twelve provided for the Century; one for himself the other for his Optio. Where the others were outfitted to fit a full eight-man section into them the command variants were designed to hold half that many people, with the space taken up by communications and command systems, including an uplink to satellite imaging and the Roman command net system. Rufius Atellus pulled on a headset as the rear hatch closed and they century group set off.

“Latest intelligence suggests that a Madagascan armoured unit is marshalling here, Ambilobe, some one hundred kilometers south of here, we believe it to be their main tank force and supporting infantry,” Rufius Atellus commented pointing to the map. “Normally we wouldn’t advance anywhere near that fast, due to the risks to our supply chain and flanks advancing so fast, but the countryside is friendly to us and that unit is coming for us and we’d rather keep the initiative.”

“According to intelligence from the Central Security Commission, those tanks are more than likely Digna MBTs built by the Emirate of Khartoum. The Emirate manufactures a lot of basic military equipment and sells it to smaller and/or poorer nations who can’t necessarily afford modern tech, usually unlicensed copies of prolific makes and models because no-one’s ever really going to care about filing lawsuits.” Major Al-Iryani shrugged slightly. “What can I say, Khartoum have always had a rather different outlook compared to the central government in Cairo. The main point to keep in mind is that those tanks were designed in the late 1940s and Khartoum won’t have upgraded the design too much because that would potentially price out some of their preferred target customers. The primary disadvantage with the Digna is that its small size can restrict the physical movement of the internal crew, which in turn can slow down the operation of the controls. The primary advantage of them is that they’re quite light for a main battle tank so they’ve got good mobility, but the armour won’t be up to modern MBT standards so once you hit them, they’re going to take damage.”

He smiled as a thought passed through his head. “Thankfully Khartoum keeps track of who they sell to and what they sell to them. Most of the time.”

“That matches up to what Praetorian Intelligence had been able put together about the Madagascan military’s equipment before the invasion began, but it’s good to hear it confirmed from a source with inside knowledge,” Rufius Atellus nodded. “As far as we can tell, this constitutes the enemy’s main armoured strength, they’re clearly trying to push us back into the sea before we can fully consolidate our hold here… so we’ve got to stop them before they try.”

Rufius Atellus smiled slightly.

“Our cohort is joining a Equites Squadron in heading southwards, we’ll leave the enemy armour to our own main battle tanks, who will clear the way for us, before we move in and defeat the enemy infantry in the town itself,” RUfius Atellus explained. “By all accounts this is going to be more of a straight-up fight than that goat-fuck we’ve just left in Antsiranana, we’re facing regular troops here, which works to our advantage of course, so this might be the one time in the campaign you’ll see a proper Legion assault.”

“Rest assured that I’ll be taking notes. Not just out of the Caliphal military’s interest but also because the Emirate of Khartoum might want to receive genuine information on how their merchandise fares against a truly modern military. Cairo could get something out of them by offering to share the observations with them.” Major Al-Iryani chuckled slightly. “Politics is such a wonderful thing.” The sarcastic tone to that particular statement revealed the Major’s true opinion of the sometimes-bumpy relationship between Cairo and the autonomous Emirates of the Caliphate. The brief moment of sarcasm disappeared as he continued. “Have you got any air support available for this engagement or is it going to be purely a ground offensive?”

“We’ll have air support available, a flight of Sicarius strike fighters are available, call sign Iota-IV, however we don’t anticipate needing them,” Rufius Atellus shrugged as the IFV joined the rest of the force. “Although only one squadron of tanks are ashore, that’s still a dozen, and they’ll more than match our foes on-on-one, so we expect to be able to handle it ourselves.”

“Understood. If there’s no need to commit assets then best to keep them back, just in case a different situation requires them more urgently. Although I suspect that your forces don’t need it, I’m still wishing us all luck.”

“Exactly, especially given that we really need to keep most of our assets around the beachhead to cover the arriving transports and the unloading of the rest of the armoured vehicles,” Rufius Atellus agreed with a nod, glancing at the external camera from the gunner’s position. “Although we believe that we’ve removed the native Madagascan air force from the equation, there still remains the risk that someone will interfere in what we’re trying to accomplish… seeing mere aggression and not the fact that a Roman administration here will avoid civil war.”

“This campaign could quickly turn into a quagmire if other actors start interfering. If they intervene on behalf of the current regime then it could embolden the Madagascan forces and make them far less likely to surrender. If other nations interfere in an attempt to seize Madagascan territory for themselves then it could lead to chaos.” Major Al-Iryani set his jaw with a stern expression. “Hopefully things won’t come to that.”

“Exactly… we’ve discussed this before, my friend, and like then I’m not going to pretend that Rome doesn’t have a vested interest in an outcome that results in Madagascaria becoming a province of the Republic,” Rufius Atellus nodded his agreement. “That being said, a Roman administration is the only means by which peace can be sustained after the end of the war against the regime, anything else is chaos, like you say, however some will only see what they want to see and be willfully blind to everything else.”

“Well although the Caliphate’s primary wish is to see the restoration of order in Madagascar, I think that we’d prefer to see that order being restored by a nation that we have an excellent long-standing relationship with. While we may not be able to come right out and declare our support for this campaign due to our usual policy of non-interference, I doubt that anyone in Cairo will lose any sleep over Roman control of this island.” Major Al-Iryani paused momentarily. “I never said any of that officially, of course. We are strictly here as observers after all.”

“Of course,” Rufius Atellus grinned. “Would the observers prefer to watch from in here or a handily placed hill?”

“While a handily placed hill would be ideal, odds are that the Madagascans would end up shooting at us so I’d say that we’re far safer in here.” Major Al-Iryani gestured towards the equipment within the vehicle and smiled. “Besides, we’re going to observe a lot more with all of this than we would with a simple pair of binoculars.”

“I thought so,” Rufius Atellus smiled. “Well, we’ve got an hour’s trip ahead of us, so do you have any questions about the campaign so far?”

Major Al-Iryani paused for a moment. “Without revealing any sensitive intelligence that you don’t wish to reveal, have the rebels been of any assistance thus far? Considering that the Romans are here to help them whilst achieving other objectives, I’m interested to know if they’re cooperating or if they’re just leaving everything to your people.”

“They’ve been very helpful in providing us with accurate, up-to-date intelligence on the movements of Government troops, and ensuring that our planners have an accurate lay of the land when they were forming our strategy,” Rufius Atellus replied. “They’re also serving as an advanced trip-wire for any enemy troops, it was a rebel unit that spotted the enemy armour heading towards Ambilobe, and communicated that to a Praetorian special forces team implanted with their cell leader.”

Major Al-Iryani nodded in understanding. “Good to hear. If you have the option of pointing to the fact that the anti-government forces have been actively cooperating with you, then it provides more legitimacy to the operation. Other nations will find it more difficult to oppose the campaign if you have the support of local forces.”

“Very true, and I know that the other Consul, Decimus Galerius Albinus is due to go to that summit in Sydney next month, when we’ll likely still be at the height of operations, I’m sure his honour will gratified to have such a riposte in his rhetorical arsenal, should he have to defend our actions at what is supposed to be an economic summit,” Rufius Atellus agreed with a nod. “That being said, I was speaking to Tribune Fabius Catulus last night in the Officer’s Mess, and from what I gathered the higher-ups don’t really expect anyone to actually intervene, although we can’t discount the possibility, instead we anticipate some grandstanding but little action, ultimately, international apathy will win out.”

“I have a feeling that your higher-ups might be right on that count. The only nation that I could personally see attempting to intervene might be the Commonwealth of Socialist Republics, but the simple range involved would pose a considerable hurdle to such a move. As far as the British and the Australisians are concerned, they may well protest the campaign but I doubt that it would be a wise move for either of them to wade into the situation now.”

Rufius Atellus snorted.

“THe CSR hardly has a pot to piss in militarily, when it comes to expeditionary warfare, certainly when you consider the kind of interference we would be able to run from our bases across the Mediterranean… now, they’ll keep spouting their nonsense in Europa and bitch about the rest of us, but ultimately do nothing,” Rufius Atellus shook his head wryly. “The Australisians don’t concern me, we have decent relations with them all things considered, and they’ll only want that to improve now that we’re in Madagascar… as for the British, they might not like it but I doubt they’ll do anything… they know the impact on their economy if we cause issues for their shipping in the Mediterranean, so not exactly wise, no.”

Major Al-Iryani smiled once more. “Good to know that this has all been considered in advance, evidently nothing has been left to chance in this campaign.”

Rufius smiled knowingly and leant back against the interior wall of the IFV. It was the better part of an hour before they reached the area around Ambilobe and that was when the fun really began. The twelve Equites main battle tanks surged forwards ahead of the swarm of Sagitta, moving quickly to engage their foes. As the Major had correctly stated the one advantage the enemy tanks had was speed and agility, clearly the Decurion in charge of the cavalry squadron wanted to bring the enemy to action before they could get up to speed. The countryside was shook as the Roman tanks opened fire, their advanced targeting systems making light work of keeping up with the enemy tanks, who were not yet up to speed, and half the enemy tanks were destroyed in the opening salvo. The other six got lucky in some way, a dip in the terrain or an unexpected turn buying them a brief respite. As the Equites pushed the enemy tanks away from the town the Sagitta moved forwards and the cohort descended on the city, once they were close enough the centuries split up to enter the town from a different aspect.

Rufius Atellus and the Fifth Century entered the town from the wes, the troops disembarking as they did so. Each eight-man contubernium advanced with their Sagitta, in classic Roman combined arms tactics. In the Legions the relationship between the heavy infantry of the Legionaries and their fighting vehicle was close and well-drilled; the troops protected their fighting vehicle from flanking attacks whilst the Sagitta provided heavy firepower when it mattered the most. Rufius Atellus was infinitely grateful for the presence of their Sagitta when, as they crossed a crossroad, they came a bullet destined for his head slammed harmlessly into the armour of the command Sagitta as he and two other contubernium attempted to secure the intersection. The Legionaries reacted immediately and set-up a perimeter, but it was the 25mm autocannons of the three Sagitta that swiveled quickly and targeted the snipers nest the shot had come from, destroying it swiftly.

Within a few minutes the Fifth had secured the major intersection and set up defensive positions. They, and three other centuries, were tasked with securing the main avenues in an out of the city, whilst other centuries pushed into deeper into the town to sweep for hostiles. This was far from an uneventful tasking, however, as a group of enemy soldiers clearly decided that they didn’t fancy street fighting a Roman legion cohort and tried to flee westward out of the city. This did not go well for them either, as the Fifth’s position was a strong one, thanks to their fighting vehicles, and the enemy troops were soon under heavy fire from three Sagitta and two dozen Roman legionaries as Rufius Atellus watched on in mute disgust as the 25mm guns ripped through their flimsy cover. He was a Soldier of Rome, and he would do whatever it took to kill Rome’s enemies, but no man truly liked to see slaughter like this, and yet… this was how Rome fought; with overwhelming firepower and superior tactics. Truly, these government soldiers had no chance; their small arms against armoured vehicles.

“Cease fire!” Rufius Atellus barked into the century radio net and after a few moments the fire slackened.

The silence in the immediate area was almost deafening, even if there was gunfire audible in the distance, as Rufius Atellus reached into the Sagitta and pulled out a megaphone. Reaching into his pocket he flipped through some laminated notes.

“This is Centurion Rufius Atellus of the Ninth Legion,” He called in passable Malagasy. “Surrender now, and you will not be harmed.”

A few more moments of silence passed before the first Madagascan soldiers began to emerge from their shattered cover, hands raised and weapons nowhere to be seen and began to walk towards the Roman position. Far few than had initially attacked, Rufius Attelus noted, but more than he had feared.

“Secure them,” He ordered crisply to his Optio. “And maintain the perimeter.”

“Truly you Romans know how to get the job done.” Major Al-Iryani observed. “Let’s hope that this is indicative of the Madagascan military elsewhere, if that turns out to be the case then this campaign might well be far less bloody than first feared.”

“That’s part of the reason why we try to fight as unfairly as possible; Rome has always favoured group tactical superiority over individual capability, that goes as far back as ancient times; individual barbarian warriors might have been formidable but against the discipline and training of a Roman battle-line that added up to much less,” Rufius Atellus commented. “The same is true here, those 25mm cannons give us one hell of an advantage over our foes, even at the section level… some might say an unfair advantage, but true honour is victory in the name of Rome, individual honour matters less than the survival and prosperity of beloved Roma…”

Rufius Atellus shrugged.

“Besides, such an advantage saves lives on our side, ensuring that we can either win the firefight or withdraw in good order, and on the other side by encouraging them to surrender in the face of overwhelming firepower rather than fighting to the last against roughly even odds,” He added simply. “Unfortunately, I rather doubt we’ll be able to rely upon that advantage in this campaign, if the enemy chooses to fight; like Antsiranana this town has been largely emptied, but if we face an enemy, employing tactics like this still holding out to the north, in a populated city, we’ll not be able to rely on our preferred tactics, and instead have to turn to bloody, close-quarters combat.”

Rufius Atellus sighed.

“Our superior tactical training will serve us well, over these Madagascan troops, but in tight confines it doesn’t take much for a inferior soldier to get lucky once,” He shook his head. “I received a report just before we launched the attack… the casualty toll in Antsiranana is over fifty now… dead and wounded, not counting the Vulcan that went down this morning.”

Major Al-Iryani looked particularly solemn as he responded. “War is never a pleasant business, even when it is being fought for the right reasons. My condolences for your fallen comrades.”

“War is hell… it may be our profession but it is hell none the less,” Rufius Atellus commented sagely. “What separates us, soldiers and officers, from savages is that we will never enjoy it… or we ought not anyway.”

[-Roma Invicta-]

Quintus Horatius Saturninus, Consul of Rome
Antsiranana Airfield, Madagascar
Monday 7th January 2019, 0900hrs Local Time

A week into the war and things were going well for Rome.

Both the 9th and 13th Legions had successfully deployed into Madagascar, each along with the half dozen infantry, cavalry and artillery auxiliary cohorts that made up their Legion Battlegroup, which in size and capability was roughly analogous to a Division on the conventional scale. The two Legions had advanced southwards, largely pushing the enemy before them with little resistance. The 13th had advanced down the western coast and taken the city of Mahajanga, a rebel stronghold in itself which meant that they had been welcomed with open arms. By contrast, the 9th had had the harder time of it; advancing down the eastern coast they had encountered stiff enemy resistance in the port city of Toamasina, Madagacaria’s chief seaport and a key strategic target as it would massively simplify reinforcement and resupply, should it become necessary. However, Toamasina was only two hundred kilometres northeast of the capital and, given its strategic importance, the Madagascan Army had made an attempt to hold the city. Fortunately for the Romans, however, the 9th Legion was essentially at full strength, rather than having to detach units to garrison captured settlements that role fell to the auxiliary cohorts, allowing the Legion to keep itself consolidated as much as possible.

Of course, the support of the surprisingly organised and disciplined rebel troops didn’t hurt either.

Consul Horatius Saturninus had turned Antsiranana Airfield into his headquarters as soon as he had arrived on Madagascaria to take personal command over the operation. Unlike pretty much any other head of state/head of government, the Roman Consuls still possessed significant and direct command authority over the Roman Military, and it was far from uncommon for Consuls to take command of military action like this. Typically, as in this case, one Consul would take command of the expedition whilst the other Consul remained in Rome to keep the Republic running smoothly. It would, perhaps, be strange for outsiders to see one of Rome’s senior magistrates in military uniform, armed and wearing a rank insignia that placed him directly in the chain of command, rather than merely exercising civilian control over the military, but it worked for Rome and had for centuries. Of course, by and large the Consul would be kept as far away from the actual fighting as possible, although when compared to how close other national leaders occasionally got to an active war zone it would be enough to give those nation’s security apparatus severe anxiety.

Horatius Saturninus, of course, was no stranger to military life, however. Although not a pre-requisite, to either a political career or reaching the lofty heights of the Consulship, it was very common for Romans of Senatorial and Equestrian rank to embark upon a period of military service in young adulthood, particularly if they had political ambitions. These young scions, who received world-class training at the Roman Military Academy (or its counterparts), typically took up senior staff roles, leaving the actual war-fighting to the ‘professionals’, and where they held actual command of a unit they were supported by a highly experienced professional soldier, usually a First Spear Centurion, and there were very clear, if unspoken, rules and traditions regarding the relationship between the two. The equestrian, who would usually be holding the rank of Prefect, would technically command the unit, however his responsibility was typically administration and logistics, and whilst he would have the final say the day-to-day and tactical command of the cohort fell to the First Spear.

It was a unique set-up to be sure, but it was one that largely worked for the Roman Military, by providing a highly experienced, professional force whilst also enabling staff officers and senior commanders to receive the best possible training, and given that the two parts of the military worked well together, complementing each other’s strengths and weaknesses, it resulted in an odd (to outsiders) but eminently workable structure.

Horatius Saturninus, for example, had attended the Roman Military Academy from the age of sixteen, graduating shortly after his twentieth birthday and immediately had been posted as a Senior Tribune with the Thirteenth Legion. As the Senior Tribune his role was two-fold; the first was to serve as chief of staff, coordinating the administrative management of the Legion, a role which the Academy had well prepared him for, the second was to learn from the Legion Commander the role, skills and nuance that would be required to command a Legion in his own right. Unlike the majority of Senior Tribunes, who remained at that rank for their ten years of military service, Horatius Saturninus had been one of the few to receive a Legion command. Typically, the Legion Commanders were men of Senatorial rank who had elected to remain in military service, rather than pursuing a political or civilian career, rotating through various Legion commands as required, however a small number of Legion Legatus were young hotshots. It was perhaps hardly surprising therefore that, after leaving the military, such young Legion commanders tended to have a successful political career, typically achieving election as one of the many Quaestors immediately after leaving the military.

Given that Horatius Saturninus was a Roman Consul, it was safe to say that this had been the case for him. He had served as a Quaestor in Rome, which meant that it had been one of the most prestigious positions than, say, somewhere in the provinces, indeed due in no small part to his military service he had been appointed by the Senate to a Quaestorship within the Basilica Militum, re-elected several times, and again as a Curule Aedile, also at the Basilica Militum, it came as no surprise to anyone that, when he was elected Praetor in his year (the age of 39) he had been appointed by the Senate as the Praetor Militum, responsible for the administration and day-to-day control over the entire Roman Military. Such a state of affairs was common in the Roman Government; for although the magistrates were elected on their own platforms, with the Republic operating under a plurality-at-large voting system in which each voter had enough votes to fill the number of positions available, and the two (in the case of Consular elections) candidates with the first and second most votes were thereby elected. As the electorate did not vote magistrates into specific roles it fell to the Senate to appoint the magistrates to their roles (aside from the Consuls, of course), and the Senate typically appointed magistrates based on their own knowledge or expertise.

It was not, perhaps, the most proportional electoral system, but it did result elected officials who had a broad level of support across the population.

In any case, Horatius Saturninus’ career to date meant that he had a great deal of practical experience in conducting a military campaign of this nature. However, with the campaign’s outcome a relatively foregone conclusion there was no need to micromanage its conduct, and Horatius Saturninus had more than enough confidence to leave it in the hands of his Princeps (the two senior commanders he had appointed for the campaign; the Legatus Princeps, Gaius Flavius Magnus (who also commanded the 13th legion), and the Nauarchus Princeps, Lucia Germinus Carbo (who also commanded Carrier Group II… normally there would have been a Legatus Volantes Princeps, but there was no appreciable Vis Volantes presence in this operation, so far). Rather, Horatius Saturninus was looking at the bigger picture; although it was pretty obvious that Rome was going to come out victorious in this campaign it was what would happen afterwards that was of more concern for the Consul; for his priority was in avoiding a long-running insurgency by those that felt like they had been been on the losing side of this entire affair. Which meant that ensuring a provincial government that enjoyed broad support across the political spectrum would be essential.

The Provincial Governor would, of course, be a Roman magistrate, likely a Propraetor given the small size of the future province, but he would rely on the advice, and support, or a provincial assembly. It had been the future membership of this provincial assembly that had been taking up much of Horatius Saturninus’ attention, for it would need to represent both the elites and the general population, across all the political and ideological boundaries. Moreover, there was the delicate balancing act between Rome’s interests and those of the local population, especially given Rome’s intentions to issue land grants to military veterans in Madagascar. There had been some contention between Horatius Saturninus and the rebel leaders on this point, however the Consul had been able to broker a compromise in which the vast swathes of land formally owned by the regime and its supporters would be seized by the Roman state, leaving the land owned by the rebels and their supporters alone. This had had the added bonus being a powerful piece of leverage when they had been trying to bring defectors over from the regime.

Of course, knowing the importance of retaining the positive optics of the situation, in which Rome’s presence was supported by the rebel majority, Horatius Saturninus had had to offer some concessions. Most notable was that a significant proportion of the public land in Madagascar would be reserved solely for future Madagascarian veterans of the Roman military, which deep down Horatius Saturninus had to admit was a fair request. It solved the crisis that Rome had been facing for the foreseeable future at least; and at least Madagascaria would never be a problem in the same regards, but the Consul knew grimly that Rome would, at some point, have to do this all over again. Right now, however, that was not his concern; by the grace of the gods he had resolved the crisis for the moment at least, and his concern was ensuring peace and prosperity on Madagascaria into the future.

Horatius Saturninus glanced up as his personal orderly, stepped into the room.

“Minister Rakotovao, Your Excellency.”

“Ah, good,” Horatius Saturninus nodded. “Send him in.”

Minister Andry Rakotovao was a senior member of the rebellion, who had up until recently been the rebellion’s main man on the inside of the regime and had been integral in the survival of the rebellion. Moreover, as Minister of the Exterior, he was, arguably, the most qualified individual the rebellion would have to play a leading role in the provincial government and he had been immediately flagged by Praetorian Intelligence as a key individual to get on-side to ensure a peaceful situation in the province going forwards.

“Minister,” Horatius Saturninus said with a warm smile as he offered a hand to the other man. “It’s good to meet you in person.”

“And you, Consul,” Minister Rakotovao replied in english; the language that the two men shared, although neither was as fluent they were in their mother tongue, but sufficient to communicate with. “I must say, I am impressed by your Legions.”

“Most people are,” The Consul replied wryly. “And I must say that you have a beautiful country.”

“We do, although many of us have not had a chance to enjoy too much of it over these past years; the fear of beatings, arrest and being disappeared does tend to remove any enjoyment one could enjoy in the world around them,” Minister Rakotovao commented darkly. “For many of my people, encountering soldiers that aren’t beating them, who are professional and considerate, is something of a surreal experience, although far from an unwelcome one, once they get over the surprise.”

“And the fear,” Horatius Saturninus agreed. “In many cases, it is the children leading the way.”

“Indeed,” Minister Rakotovao smiled fondly. “Nothing overcomes a child’s fear than sweats.”

“Very true, I was visiting an auxiliary cohort that was garrisoning a small town a few hundred kilometres south of here; the adults we encountered on our drive into the centre of town looked at us with fear and suspicion,” The Consul leant back in his chair and smiled. “On this open area in the centre of town, however, I found a dozen children playing soccer with a half dozen Auxiliarymen who had stripped out of their body armour and weapons, and it was smiles all around.”

“Truly heartwarming to hear, Your Excellency,” The Minister smiled.

“It is, and something that I hope to encourage more of once the fighting is done; the sooner your people stop seeing the military, which will be theirs too soon enough, as the enemy the better, although it will take a lot to build the trust,” Horatius Saturninus nodded. “That’s where you come in, Minister, Rome is eager for Madagascar to enjoy the benefits of the loyalty to the Republic; we need someone like yourself, the sole trusted and respected member of the regime, and a secret rebel to boot, who can command a great deal of support.”

“I feel that you overestimate me, Consul,” Minister Rakotovao chuckled. “What did you have in mind?”

“You already know that Rome will appoint a provincial governor for Madagascar, most likely a former Praetor, but we want a provincial assembly and senior representatives of your own people… all of them, across the political spectrum,” Horatius Saturninus replied. “We want a Madagascan as the Governor’s second in command… we want you to be one of the first batch of Madagascan’s we grant Roman citizenship to, the best and the brightest.”

The Consul paused and smiled slightly.

“We also want our second in command to be elected and we want him to be widely respected,” He continued, leaning forwards with a smile. “Therefore, my friend, we want you to stand in the Roman magistrate elections as Quaestor.”