The Roman & the Rebel (Closed)

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Every good plan rarely survives contact with the enemy

This thought echoed through Marcus’ mind as the battle continued to unfold. The native people of this land had put up such fierce opposition that they had earned more than a healthy dose of his respect and caution through the long six months of fighting. Each battle had been more and more bloody on either side and cost lives and manpower on either side. He did not know the commander, he had never seen him, the indigenous people would not even speak a name aloud even when tortured. Such fierce loyalty and honor were quite admirable.

After a few dozen captives had been treated to such attempts he had commanded all captives be kept and treated with honor. They would neither betray their comrades on their country even upon pain of death, this was deserving of respect. These people would be subjugated of course, but the cost would not be the Empire’s honor.

The Roman Empire conquered nations through advanced warfare techniques and technology more often than not, but sometimes it just came down to raw discipline. In this case, the Celts he believed they were called had the advantage of larger numbers, better supply routes, and they were matched in discipline because they were fighting for a very strong ruler. However, the Roman Empire had them far outpaced when it came to tactics and technology. Even then it did not mean that every engagement was a success. They lost ground when the tide of battle shifted and the enemy made a clever advance or pressed an advantage.

He was watching the right flank of his push toward their encampment buckle under a furious charge of Calvary. The men reacted to it quickly however and locked the large tower shields together and stabbed at sharp upward angles with the short thick bladed gladius’ that were standard to every Roman soldier. Horses usually took several deep cuts to fall but threw their rider after one. The men behind the recovering front line launched Pilus into the oncoming Calvary. The thin barbed javelins struck and pierced armor or flesh alike and then the mostly metal structure bent as was their design so not only were they difficult to dislodge, they were completely useless. They could not be thrown back at the Roman legion.

Some men with different uniforms than the standard legionnaires fired from the center of the mass of men with longbows. They had dark, to olive skin and were clearly not native Romans, but were conscripted soldiers. Everything about them was unusual and exotic. Their bows were made with very unusual architecture, facial hair ranged from none at all to wispy thin, to full long beards with intricate bone beading.

He had to draw their forces in a little further to bait the hook.

He put the spurs to his horse and his own personal guards rode down to the battle and he entered it with them. It was hard to miss the General in his resplendent décor. His helm was unique in that it bore almost a crown fringed with horsehair across the midline of his skull, and his armor was not the bands of metal over leather like the rest of the soldiers, he was covered in chain mail and the medals that he had been awarded were hanging off his chest. His personal retinue crashed into the front of the infantry, all with lances drawn except the standard bearer who carried a Gladius. The entire Roman army seeing their General charge the rebel forces almost by himself let out one united cheer and surged forward. Marcus hit the infantry first, leading the charge. He killed a man before he was forced to drop his lance and switch to twin Gladius’. His horse reared and kicked, killing several men all on its own as he cut men down left and right. It was not until Marcus actually joined the fight for the first time that the rebels realized why he had risen so high in the Roman military. He was not just a brilliant military mind, he was deadly with any weapon you put in his hand.

The Celtic rebels finally killed his horse and he was forced to leap from the saddle. He landed on top of someone and realized it was not a friendly someone. He drove the pommel of his left blade down on the back of the man’s neck where it was exposed and parried an incoming strike with his right hand. Reversed the left hand and killed the man he landed on with a stab through the back as he righted himself to find that he was surrounded on three sides by enemies.

He met the gaze of the two men and one woman who approached him and smiled at all three. With the metal backed gauntlet, he motioned for them to come at him. They didn’t hesitate; this was a chance of a lifetime. To kill the Roman general and break their forces in the field. All three of the warriors had a weapon reach advantage on Marcus. One man carried a large two-handed maul, the woman carried a long sword and a shield, and the other man carried a horseman’s pick.

Yet Marcus was not a small man. Standing six foot and two inches he had a long reach and a broad frame. He was more than a little imposing. The maul wielder came in quickly and drove the hammer in a downward stroke that left him open. Marcus easily sidestepped the attack. Had they covered each other this assortment of weapons would actually present a problem for Marcus. The varied reach, speed, and penetrating power of each could have been very deadly. Instead, as soon as the man with the maul was open to attack Marcus reacted with the very quick Gladus in his left hand. The form he used to strike left him leaning forward with his hands on the haft of the large hammer, he was also not wearing a metal gorget. With his left hand Marcus drove the blade up and through his throat and out the back of his neck, he felt it sever the spine and knew the man to be dead before his legs even gave out.

The other two were completely stunned by the suddenness at which their friend was struck down and Marcus took advantage of their shock. Horseman pick was next. With a fluid movement almost like was dancing, he pulled his blade free and plunged the right blade through the chain-mailed chest of the other man who’s shock only doubled. He stepped back, dislodging the sword and it made a wet sucking sound as he struggled to breathe. He looked to the woman in a mute appeal for help and then he saw the matching cloth knots around their fingers and realized the significance of it. Lovers, married perhaps?

Sure enough, when she realized what had just transpired she flew into a murderous rage. She screamed like a wounded animal and charge Marcus with no technique or form whatsoever. She swung sword and shield alike as if they were both weapons which they both could be. He repelled both and simply backpedaled until her fury turned to broken sobs. He leveled a blade in her direction, then another at the man he had just killed. “Take him and go. Bury your dead.”

He called over two of his personal guard and gave them instructions to escort her to the safety of her own lines. “These men will make sure that you are not attacked by my men. There has been enough death these past months, enough families snuffed out.” She nodded mutely and let the men escort her to her own front lines. It was not until she made it back to her commander and reported the situation that she realized he was speaking her native language. Consequently, his men never made it back and were killed escorting her to safety, the Celts had seen two high ranking Romans and simply killed them.

He stepped backward and drew the enemy forces toward him cautiously. They now recognized his danger, but also the reward in killing him. He managed to make it back to his lines, but the enemy was starting to slowly funnel up almost like the tip of a spear and slowly he was letting his lines break up to take individual skirmishes and keep him exposed just enough to keep the hope alive that someone could take him down. He was drawing the troops out further and further away from their camp. Those dark brown eyes were waiting for just the right moment to snap the jaws of the trap shut.

Now!

He gave the signal to his bannerman who waved the banner in a circle three times, stopped, then waved it in the opposite direction twice. That was the signal for the horn player to signal the army to spring the trap. The horn player let out three long low peals and then two short bursts. Marcus sheathed one of his Gladius and picked up a fallen shield. He fell into step with his men and the started to push against the advancing rebels.

At the same time, mounted archers broke from the tree line behind the rebel encampment. They began fringing arrows wrapped with cloth at most of the structures that had been constructed and set them ablaze. The only orders that had been given were to burn down the buildings except for any buildings that were being used to treat wounded soldiers or house civilians. The soldiers were experts with the short bow on horseback and made quick work of their task. Soon the camp was an inferno and with arrows to spare they peppered reserve soldiers that fled out of the burning buildings. Once their arrows were spent those who survived fled back into the forest.

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Too late Iona had realized her mistake in allowing her troops to pursue the Roman general back towards his front lines and move further away from their own camp. Blinded by the chance to take down the enemy commander they’d slowly moved further and further away from their own encampment, leaving it open and vulnerable.

It was a grave oversight that they would pay dearly for.

She’d positioned herself within her own lines with the rest of her reserve cavalry for the battle, a position that hoisted up her 5 foot 6 inches frame and allowed her keen blue eyes a good vantage point of the battle from atop her horse but didn’t make her presence and her identity as commander obviously known to the enemy. She wore no shining armor or flashy medals like the Roman general, only simple attire formed from leather and cloth. Her long red hair braided back to stay out of her face and her body painted with the blue battle markings common among her people, she looked no different than the other Celts fighting that day.

Her blood ran cold at the sound of the trumpet blast. After six months of fighting the Romans, she knew that it had to be a signal of some kind. Hearing the sudden shouts coming from their encampment behind her, the young warchief whipped around in the saddle to look behind her and cried out with shock as she spotted the Roman archers riding out from the tree line and firing their flaming arrows at the buildings.

“It was a trap! Forget the General! Hold the line, don’t let them advance!!” she ordered the troops around her with a shout as she quickly steered her horse around and raced towards the encampment, her personal guard riding after her without her needing to give the command for them to do so.

She and her guard rode as quickly as they were able and managed to pick off some of the enemy with their own bows and arrows as the invaders fled back into the trees, but the damage had already been done. The encampment was up in flames, the bodies of reserve soldiers littering the ground while the rest of the camp was in a frenzy trying to put out the inferno and salvage what they could.

With a roar of outrage she turned towards the battlefield and stared down the shining General with a burning anger just as fierce and fiery as the blaze around her.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He watched the camp blaze with mixed emotion. He knew now that the Celts had few options left. Retreat, or push. Their encampment had just been destroyed along with most of their supplies. They had a choice to make before nightfall. The day’s battle may even decide a third option, surrender.

Seeing their camp go up in flames only seemed to anger the painted warriors. They attacked with ferocity and zeal like never before. He understood it, but he also knew this was also something he could exploit. Letting emotion get the best of you on the field of battle was a sure way to make mistakes. This was the entire reason he had led that first charge, and their commander though brilliant he was had not been reserved enough to hold his forces in check to fall for the bait. A shame that, though perhaps with some guidance and discipline he might make him a legate of a province down the line if he proved loyal to Rome. He really had conducted a brilliant campaign so far.

The Roman’s held a tight formation, their shield wall seemed impenetrable as the Celtic warriors beat themselves against it in fury. This only seemed to enrage them further. Each time they launched a new assault they incurred losses by the scores. The gladius was the perfect weapon to go with the large tower shield. It allowed them to strike like a viper in the small gap between those interlocking shield each time someone tried to break in through the formation.

Meanwhile, the exotic looking archers with their long strange bows in the rear continued to pepper the mid and back lines of the Celtic army with arrows firing well over the heads of the Roman elite forces. They stood like a rock, breaking the rushing water while bolts of lightning struck the surface from above.

All in all, this was a disaster for the Celtic warriors.

Marcus shouted an order, it was passed to the nearest standard bearer, who waved it down the line. The horn sounded again two long peals. This was one horn sound Iona was quite familiar with by now, she had heard it far too often in the protracted six-month battle. It indicated an incoming cavalry charge. Men with lances came charging over the hills on either side of the battle in a pincer movement intending to crush the lines of the main Celtic formation.

If the Celts retreated they would die by the sword, if they remained where they were they would be slaughtered by the charge, and they could not push forward because of the shield wall. What would the general do now?

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

From the encampment Iona watched in dismay as the Roman cavalry charged in to swoop around her troops while at the same time more and more of the warriors continued to fall against the unpenetrable force of the enemie's shield wall. She could see now that there would be no chance of pushing forward, nor would they now be able to retreat. Either she could give herself over to the General and try to negotiate a surrender or her clansmen would be slaughtered before her very eyes, the few survivors likely carted off as slaves.

It gave her no small amount of pride to see how furiously they continued to fight despite their circumstances, and she had no doubt that they would continue to do so right up to the very end, but as much as she shared in their fury she could not allow that to happen. Not when she might have a chance at saving them.

Her thoughts quickly turned back to the general and how he had spared the life of one of her warriors that day after the woman and two others had attacked him but failed, even having her escorted as she carried the body of her lover back to her lines to ensure that she made it there safely. Up until the trap that he had sprung it had troubled her deeply that the men escorting her had been mistakenly murdered in carrying out their orders, her own troops not realizing the situation until it was too late. The fact that he would be willing to do such a thing gave her hope that if she surrendered to him now she might possibly be able to reach an agreement with him for the lives and freedom of her troops.

All of this raced through her mind while the Roman cavalry was still charging in across the hills and moving in upon the Celtic warriors. Quickly she gave the signal and three long horn blasts rang out across the battlefield, her troops pulling back from the shield wall in shock at the sound before finally dropping their weapons and raising their arms above their heads in a sign of surrender as she moved her horse forward and began to make her way towards the Roman front lines.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Marcus immediately recognized the signs of surrender. He slammed the tower shield into the earth and stabbed the gladius into the sky like a blazing beacon. The man next to him on either side knew what this meant and did the same. It was almost like choreography. A wave of swords flashed into the air in seconds among the entire elite legion and then a long high peal came from the horn. The calvary immediately halted their charge and raised their lances in reply in a similar gesture.

The shield wall did not open immediately, the commander was no fool, there was still a wall of Celt warriors in front of them, even though they had dropped their weapons they may have hidden ones. This was until he spotted a woman on a horse moving forward through the ranks, the soldiers parting for her out of respect.

He called out loudly in Latin “Shield wall stand down!” The men picked up their shields and the first ranks began to part like a sea of red shields around the towering man as he stood alone. The line opened all the way to their encampment, a clear path to their supplies, tents, and buildings. Then he called out in Gaelic in a deep clear call. “No harm will come to all who do not raise arms again.”

A man came to take his shield away as he stood there waiting for the woman to make her way to the front of her lines. When she finally came forward he placed a fist over his heart and inclined his head slightly in a salute, paying her an appropriate level of respect. It was more than appropriate honestly but considering the stinging victory, she just suffered he felt a little embellishment was needed to smooth out negotiation. Then he spoke once more in her native tongue.

“I am Imperial Legate Marcus Augustus, I command the Imperial 7th and 8th Legion. I commend you on a brilliantly fought battle. You always had an answer for my every move, you responded with discipline and foresight. You and your soldiers should be proud. You fought with honor. You have my respect.”

His tone suggested the words were not hollow pleasantries. She had held her own quite well, the battle had pitched back and forth and it was only until this last gamble that he had managed to bait her into a trap she could not escape from. He had been hoping to she would surrender rather than fight to the last soldier like some others had.

“I wish to invite you to my camp to discuss terms, you may bring personal guards if you wish. I will also extend my supplies to your kin and help tend to your wounded. There has been enough death on both sides of this conflict. What say you?”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona was not surprised by Marcus Augustus' ability to speak their native tongue, having already been informed of this by the woman that he had spared earlier that day, she was however more than a little surprised by the amount of respect that he was extending to her and her soldiers as she sat perched upon her mount at the front of her lines. Her eyes still examined he and his men warily, her back rigid and proud, but internally she heaved a sigh of relief. It was too soon to be certain of course, but his tone sounded genuine and so far it seemed as if her inclinations of the man's character had been correct.

There may indeed be some hope for her people yet.

"Thank you, General," she replied in a strong, clear tone as she inclined her head to him by a fraction.

She may be surrendering to the man but the sting of defeat was still fresh, and she didn't want to appear as if she was groveling and lose face before her men.

"I am Iona, daughter of Boyden, and warchief of these clans. I accept your offer to discuss terms at your camp."

She waved forward a couple of her more skilled and able bodied men at the front lines to join her and act as her guards.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Among Romans, a woman would not be allowed to lead armies. It was simply not the way of their world. The fact that this woman had risen to the rank of Warcheif which he assumed was equivalent to his own rank or roughly so spoke to her skill, cunning, and power. He would not underestimate her, and not be a fool to think her week either.

She returned his offer of respect with only the slightest inclination of her head. It was almost an insult, but he could not expect her to grovel, nor would he ask it. Still, he would remember the fact that of the two of them he had been willing to push pride aside in favor of diplomacy.

“Be welcome Iona, daughter of Boyden.” He watched as she selected her guards and several men from the front rank stepped forward in equal number to the soldiers she had selected to match their number as an honor guard. “Please Warchief, let us speak of how peace can be struck between our people.”

He led her down the column made by the bright red shields toward the sprawling tent city that was his camp. Each man they passed looked straightforward and had their blade sheathed, but seemed poised and ready just in case the Celtic woman decided peace was not on her mind.

At the end of the row of men stood a giant tent that sprawled out easily the size of a small house. The tent was guarded by two men with small round shields and short spears. As Marcus and Iona appeared with her guard the men beat the haft of their spears on their shield twice rapidly, then snapped to attention. This seemed to be some sort of signal, as the other men who had been traveling with them turned and walked back down the column of men to fill their spot in the shield wall once more. The shield wall did not close.

He motioned toward the entrance of the sprawling tent, speaking once more in Gaelic. “Please enter and be comfortable. There is wine and food. Warchief, do you have something, an insignia, a crest that my men can show to your people so that when they approach them to offer aid they are not looked upon as hostile? Few have been able to learn enough of your language to communicate with your people. I believe that if they realize we are talking they will accept help.”

Carts of food and medicine were already being loaded nearby. A mixture of Roman soldiers and men from other cultures were working to complete the task. Some of those who were not Roman were in chains, but other’s were not.

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

As the two guards that she'd selected for herself had stepped forward, Iona had swung herself down from her mount and joined Marcus and his men to walk down the column of red shield bearing soldiers towards the Roman encampment, finally arriving at the giant tent at the end.

The General welcomed her inside of the tent and she glanced back up the column, relived a bit by the sight of the shield wall remaining open. Relieved we was as well by the sight of the carts of food and medicine being made ready, though the sight of the non-Roman workers in chains made her wary...even if there were others that moved about freely.

"I can provide you with what you ask," she agreed with a nod as she entered the tent, her men following after her as she quickly took in the contents and layout of the room before turning back to Marcus, "Though even with it there may be those that are distrustful of your intentions... our people are very cautious of outsiders."

Her own expressive blue eyes mirrored her words as she examined him, wondering if his plans for their people were indeed honorable.

"Word of mouth from other Celts would be better. One of my own soldiers accompanying your men to vouch for them perhaps," she suggested.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He listened to what she said intently. It made sense of course, why would they welcome an insignia only? He could have easily just of killed her and taken it. “That makes perfect sense. We are sending out multiple teams to aid your people, we will need several soldiers. Five to be exact.”

He contemplated how to handle the situation. He wanted this to be resolved without any further loss of life, furthermore, he wanted to gain the Warcheif’s respect and trust. This was a difficult situation indeed. He could choose to trust her honor and risk having to start the battle all over again, or risk insulting her in some fashion and ensure that the deed is carried out.

He looked over the map to gather his thoughts. His men were all still in place, so were hers. The trap was still set, she really couldn’t escape and she likely knew it. He decided this was worth the gamble, in order to make this an alliance and not an enslavement he had to win her over rather than use brute force.

“I have considered what you say. I want this to be done so no one gets hurt and everyone’s needs are met. Here is what I propose. As a sign of good faith return to your men, take your guards with you. Pick the individuals you would assign to accompany my men to deliver the aid. You may pick more than five if you fear for their safety, I simply ask that you bring no harm to my troops and assure that they return unharmed in return. I believe this is the first step toward friendship rather than conquest.”

He looked into the fierce woman’s eyes thoughtfully awaiting her reply. The fate of her people was literally hanging in the balance on what she decided to do next. Such was the weight of leadership. He wondered which path she would take. Cooperation, or condemnation?

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona listened to Marcus' words carefully. She too was weighing the odds in her mind. He offered her a chance at friendship between their forces and she knew she would be a fool not to take it. What other choice did she have? His men still had her own troops surrounded. Refusing him now would surely be the same as sentencing them all to a bloody death.

Still, she didn't want to be responsible for condemning her people to a life of oppressive servitude either. Marcus claimed that he was sending teams of his men out to 'aid' her people, but what if it was just a trick to get her to cooperate in order for his victory to go more smoothly? What if the soldiers she sent with his men were mistreated, or his troops tried to do harm to the people?

"I will do as you ask," she replied finally, giving him a nod.

"I promise to instruct the five that I send with you to not raise arms against your men and to do all that they can in aiding communications with our people so that all may return back unharmed," she swore to him, her tone conveying her sincerity.

She paused a moment before adding in warning, "Though should any of your men attempt to harm them, or our people, and they must rise up in self-defense... I would not deny them their right to do so."

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He stared at Iona intently as she considered his proposal. He wished he could read what was going on behind those azure eyes. He had to admit he did not speak her tongue perfectly, occasionally her words were hard to understand, and he had no doubt the accent that he spoke with was off which made him hard to understand, still they seemed to be making headway toward some sort of measurable accord, so he thought.

Finally, she gave him an agreement, albeit with a condition. “I thank you for your trust, Warchief.”

She seemed genuine and sincere when she offered the oath to see that all came back unharmed, but then she continued and his face turned serious and grim. He didn’t quite look offended, but his eyes turned to steel and his words hardened with an edge of seriousness.

“You have my word that any man who should survive the retaliation of your people will be brought to you so that you may carry out justice yourself and your people will not be punished in any form for defending themselves by my men. If my men step out of line from their discipline, they know the penalty for such an act is a swift death. I promise any crimes committed upon your people under this armistice will be answered with justice decided by your hand. I will not interfere in any way.”

It was as he was finishing that sentence that a strange looking man with dark skin and exotic piercings appeared in the opening of the tent. He was one of the bowmen that had been at the rear of the legion. Unlike some of the other’s, there was no mark of slavery on him, he had never been bound to servitude. He saluted and spoke in heavily accented Latin, obviously his mouth used to forming another language, but he had adopted the Roman tongue quite fluidly. He saluted fist to chest both the Legate and the Warcheif, then Marcus returned the salute and the man vanished.

He turned to Iona and nodded. “The wagons are ready to begin leaving, they simply await your men, Warchief. I will await your return here, then we may discuss what to do next.” He went as far as to unbuckle his sword belt, setting the dual blades aside and completely disarm himself. Another sign of trust, or perhaps foolishness.

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona had noted the change in Marcus' face as she had given her conditions for helping him, but she refused to back down or alter them. She'd known that she would be risking his offense, but it was a risk that she was willing to take for the sake of her people's safety. She stiffened slightly in response to his steely gaze and the edge in his voice at first, misunderstanding their meaning and thinking him angry at her, but then relaxed a bit as he continued to speak and she was able to make out what exactly he was saying.

Just as he was finishing and before she'd managed to give a reply a strange looking man appeared and spoke to the General. The man was obviously not Roman, and yet he seemed to speak their language fluently. Then, with a final salute to them both, he disappeared just as quickly as he'd appeared and Marcus explained that the wagons were already ready, and were simply waiting for her soldiers in order to depart. As much as she hated the fact considering all that it had cost her, she had to admit that the discipline and efficiency of the Roman troops was quite impressive. The act of trust on his part was not missed by her as he set his blades aside, her eyes conveying to him that she understood and appreciated its meaning.

"I shall go and choose the ones to accompany them then and shall be back soon," she agreed with a nod.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

The two leaders met eyes as he set his blades aside. She seemed to respect the fact that he had disarmed in her presence. The truth was he didn’t need the guards outside, he could easily kill the two men she had with her in seconds and then it would come down to he and the warchief in single combat. He did not want that threat looming over her head, he wanted this to be smooth and honorable.

“Thank you Warchief. I will await your return.”

He stood at attention and offered her a salute as she departed. Another oddity, showing her a sign of respect that he didn’t need to. It seemed the Marcus was sincere in his desire for peace. When she departed she would notice the wagons were already near the front of the tent and each man only had a single gladius, no shield. They were not prepared to defend themselves in earnest, they simply had weapons in case they were attacked. Honestly their hands would be busy handing out supplies, or seeing to wounded anyway.

Marcus passed the time waiting for Iona composing a record of the battle in a large leather bound book. He had detailed every day the developing tactics of both his units and the enemy units as he had observed them, and given by his commanders. All of the leaders kept such records of their battles and the histories were stored for study and adaptation.

If Iona decided to return she would find him still writing in the large leather bound volume, immortalizing the days events so that future generations would remember the fiery war chiefs valor.

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Satisfied with her observations of the wagons and the soldiers about to depart with them, Iona walked with her guard back to her own front lines. She was a little on edge at first as she made her way once down through the column of red shields, not sure how Marcus' soldiers may react to her or her men now that their commander was not present. She need not have worried though, for they remained silent and kept their gaze straight ahead as before. Upon reaching her own troops, who were much relieved to see the safe return of their warchief, Iona quickly explained the agreement that she had come to with the Legate and asked for five volunteers to accompany the wagons.

Unlike the Roman army, the people had elected her to the position of Warchief and were only honor bound to follow her commands. There was no actual law declaring that they must do so. She would not try to force them.

Much to her surprise and great pride however, almost every soldier indicated that they would be willing to go at her request. She carefully chose the five that she thought would be best suited to the task: not those with the greatest strength among them necessarily, but those with good temperaments and clever minds who she could trust to be helpful in aiding the communications between their people and the Romans and who would be honorable in carrying out her orders of making sure the Roman soldiers returned safely. Then she, the five, and her guards made their way back to the Roman encampment and to the wagons at the front of the tent.

With a few final parting words to the five that would be leaving, she then turned to her two guards and instructed them to remain at the entrance of the tent with the general's guards before re-entering. Her own, albeit small, sign of trust.

"It has been done as we agreed upon," she informed him with a nod.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He heard a commotion out front and the sound of the heavy greased axles beginning to turn, men grunting under strain as heavy loads were being hauled. Orders were being given and finally, the strange procession of warriors and goods were being marched through the shield wall. It was not long before the beautiful young Warchief was casting a shadow over his table once more and he looked up from the writing he had been doing in the leather-bound volume. He replaced the quill in the ink pot and took some fine grain sand and sprinkled it into the wet ink to help it dry. Then he rose and took notice of the two missing guards. He smiled at Iona as he stood and gave her a short bow, once more using her native language to communicate.

“Welcome back. I hope I did not keep you waiting long. I was simply documenting the day's events. I was passing the time until you returned. I had faith that you would. You did not seem like the type of warrior who would give your word only to go back on it. You have conducted yourself with honor and brilliance throughout our engagements.”

He motioned to a chair that had been set up in her absence and nodded. “Please sit, make yourself comfortable and let us get to work discussing how we can cease this conflict and create a lasting peace between our people. As you have seen from walking among my soldiers not all of them are native to Rome. While not all people that we encounter are reasonable, most find that the benefits of being a friend of the Roman empire are many.”

He waited for her to sit and then sat across from her. He made sure the ink had dried and then closed the book he had been writing in. He had the table covered in a large map that showed the region they were currently in. Before she had left there had been figures to represent his forces and hers laid out on the map, now there was a large marker for their combined forces, and a marker representing the forces that she consistently wared with to the North and the South.

“I know that you frequently war with these two groups of people and the conflicts run deep and may not be able to be healed through diplomacy. A friendship with Rome would mean you would never have to stand alone against them again.”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona's took her seat in the chair that Marcus offered to her which appeared to have been set up specifically for her while she had been gone. Her eyes momentarily shifted back to the book Marcus had been writing in with interest as he closed it. Her own people had no written language and passed on their events and histories orally, so the idea was foreign to her but intriguing none the less. She wondered briefly about what he may have written for the day's events. Would it be an accurate telling, or would things be altered to bring more glory to the empire of Rome? History was decided upon by the victors after all.

Her attention then turned to the map that had been laid out upon the table, noticing the new markers and how he had arranged them. She arched an eyebrow and lifted her gaze to meet his own as he began to explain how Rome could be an aid in dealing with their enemies to the North and the South. Clearly he had caught her interest. Surely though there would be some kind of price to pay in exchange.

"And the cost?... What exactly would be expected of our people should we agree to submit ourselves to Rome?"

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He smiled at her. He had noticed her curiosity when he closed the book. Either she could read and she was trying to figure out what she was writing, or she couldn’t and she wanted to know more. She was an intelligent woman. She knew that she would get nothing for free, she quickly saw to the heart of the matter. He folded his hands together and pushed his fingers together like a church steeple with a nod of his head. “Of course, there is always a trade. I assure you it will not be chained if the submission is willing. I will be blunt. You saw the man who entered the tent just before you left. His people submitted to Rome willingly. Some of the men serve in the Roman Legion as supplementary fighting forces and are paid very well for their services. We bring a lot of change with us to many parts of the world.”

“We trade skills and knowledge. Your soldiers are ferocious fighters, they know no fear and yet are still able to remain disciplined unlike your neighbors the Gauls. Any who wish to be professional soldiers for the Legion would be paid well for their services, given supplemental training. We would unify the region under a central government, teach your people better ways to harvest the land, better ways to forge steel. You would be made more prosperous, and as a result, you would be subject to some taxation to Rome”

He paused for a moment and then continued. “Though it has almost never occurred in very rare cases we have called upon city-states that have submitted to form an emergency militia until the legion can respond to a local situation. I can count the times this has happened on one hand. We are not seers, after all, we cannot predict everything. Submission is not slavery. You get to keep the majority of your culture and freedom. You gain more than you lose.”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona listened carefully as Marcus explained to her the changes that would take place in her people's land if they willingly agreed to join in an alliance with Rome. Most of the things that he mentioned she agreed sound beneficial to their people. A few caused her pause, such as the taxes they would owe and the duty to fight for Rome should they be called upon, but she agreed with his statement that it appeared they would gain more than they would lose from the union... especially considering that the alternative would be forced subjugation in chains.

"It will not be easy," she began, admitting her concerns about the situation to him, "The people of this land value greatly their freedom and traditions, the individual tribes rarely coming together except when it is needed to defend ourselves from a common enemy such as we did with you. Regardless of the benefits, it will not be easy to convince them all to follow a central government and abide by the new ways of living that you speak of."

"But... I will do all that I can to help you make it so," she added with a nod of agreement, here eyes meeting his own.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Such was the case with most people in most lands she saw the reasoning in cooperation. She also saw the difficult road ahead of them in making a lasting union between their two peoples. Combining two cultures was never an easy path. He listened to her words, and her concerns without interruption, his eyes fastened to hers intently and he finally nodded his head thoughtfully. “I have faith in your ability. You are a strong leader, and you will have all of my support and aid. Together I believe we can accomplish this great task and make your people stronger. Rome was once like this you know. Factions fighting among one another for land, honor, and tribe. Now we are a beacon of knowledge and strength with a mission of uniting the world together.”

He paused a moment in thought. His eyes studying the map, then her beautiful, yet painted features, then back to the map once more as if he could still see the figurines marking the locations of the soldiers on the map. In truth he could, they were just in his head. “So what would be the best way to move forward? I doubt bringing your men into our camp would work, they would feel like prisoners. We have extra tents, but not enough to house all of your troops. I could pull back my forces, you could send your uninjured men back to their supply lines where they could shelter and keep a smaller unit here. I could supply enough tents for oh, a thousand or so while your wounded are treated. I would pull the majority of the legion back as well so that our numbers are not out of balance.”

He looked up at her for a moment. “You would be welcome to make an encampment here, or with your own troops while we continue to negotiate and plan how to navigate what is to come. You have seen my men, they know your importance and that you are a guest here. None would dare harm you. Still, you would have the freedom to come and go as you chose. It is up to you.”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised by the amount of respect that Marcus continued to show her even now that her guard was not present. She had heard that in Rome women were not allowed to hold positions of power within their government, and she had observed for herself that they must not be allowed to serve any function in the military either. She would have thought that a commander from such a nation would have little regard for the opinion of a woman, but throughout all of their conversations thus far he had shown her otherwise. As she'd shared her thoughts with him he'd listened intently and did not try to interrupt or talk over her. Not once did she feel as if he'd talked down to her in any way, even making a point now to ask for her opinion on how they should proceed next.

She studied his face for a moment, the suspicion and wariness that had shown in her azure gaze before during their negotiations now replaced with curiosity as she examined him briefly before lowering her gaze to study the map. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin atop her folded hands as she considered their options.

"You are right, bringing my men into your camp now would make them feel as if they were being taken captive and would not be very helpful. Likewise, they would probably feel as if I was being held a prisoner if I was to stay in your encampment apart from them, though I am sure that is not your intention and that I would be very safe here," she assured him quickly as she lifted her gaze back up from the map.

She lowered her hands and set them back in her lap as she leaned back into her seat.

"I think two smaller, separate encampments that are still fairly adjacent to one another would be best. I will send those of my men that there aren't enough tents for back to our supply lines as you suggested."

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Their eyes met across the table. They were no longer studying maps or borders. Now they were studying each other. This was no longer about nations or wars, it was about the person across the table. Could they trust one another truly? Was the other person honorable and earnest in intention? Obviously, both parties liked what they saw from each other because Marcus actually smiled when Ilona replied to his words. His eyes reflected that smile and he nodded his head in agreement to her words. “Perfect. I will pull my troops back and leave the majority of my forces back in a staging area. A slightly larger force will be needed to help distribute supplies but once that is done they too will fall back.”

He rose from the chair slowly and then offered her a salute. “Then it is agreed. I will begin preparations to move my men and when you are ready you may return to your soldiers. If you would like I could escort you, or you may return on your own. I am unsure if your soldiers would see this as a sign of weakness rather than diplomacy.” He listened for her answer and then he walked from the tent.

He turned to the soldiers in the shield wall and shouted a harsh command in his native tongue. Then men shouted the command down the line pounding weapons on their shields once until it reached the standard bearers which began signaling. Finally, the loud noise ended in a complex burst of trumpets and the cavalry began to retreat into the forest in a thunderous burst of hooves. Most of the archers, except two columns, marched off, and similarly, the shield wall began to file off in a tremendous thunder of noise in an orderly rank and file leaving two single rows on either side, the column that the war chief would traverse back to her people. The Roman war machine was nothing if not quick and efficient. Behind them there was also several workers and laborers who stayed behind, one of them came up to Marcus, and he began speaking rapidly in his native tongue, the two traded information for a moment, and then he saluted Marcus and ran off to begin working.

Soon enough the laborers were scrambling about the camp pulling up the stakes of tents, unpacking the contents, and preparing to make them habitable for the Celts. Marcus turned to Ilona and smiled at her. “All is being made ready, the troops are being pulled back and the supplies are being prepared. You may return whenever you are ready”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Iona found herself a little taken aback by the smile Marcus gave her at her reply, and while she did not quite manage one of her own, she did finally offer him a salute in return after rising from her seat with him.

"You may escort me back if you like," she agreed with a nod, "I think that they would see it for the act of diplomacy that it is meant to be. You already allowed me to walk back on my own once after all. I think it may help to show them that we are united in this decision."

She followed him out of the tent, watching on in amazement as the Roman troops quickly carried out the order that Marcus had shouted... which apparently had been for the men to disperse. Likewise when he spoke with one of the laborers, though she could not understand the exact words that were spoken, it was obvious that Marcus had been relaying their plans as almost instantly the tents for herself and her men that would be remaining at the encampment were being prepared. Once again she had to admit that the efficiency and discipline of the Roman army truly was impressive. Hearing him addressing her again, she turned and found him smiling at her once more.

"I shall go to them now then," she replied with a quick nod of her head, "I'll need to give the orders to those that will be heading back to the supply lines, and there will also the wounded to see after."

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Iona seemed generally taken aback by his smile when he offered it to her, but she recovered quickly when he offered her the salute, which she stood and returned.

When she agreed that an escort back would be seen as an offer of diplomacy he seemed genuinely pleased by the prospect.

The troops began their grand endeavor and soon enough it was just a small fraction of the legion and workers as well as Marcus’ personal guard. As she spoke he nodded to her swiftly and he began to make his way into the column of soldiers. A few men from behind them began to step behind the pair and Marcus spun quickly and spoke in his native tongue. His words were hard and crisp. The soldiers behind him were respectful but insistent, and Marcus’ eyes narrowed, his words growing increasingly sharper. The soldiers simply saluted and fell back to guarding his tent.

Marcus shifted back to her tongue and spoke to her as they walked toward her encampment along the wall of men and shields. “I am sorry for that. There are certain rules that it is frowned upon to break but I have found in the past it best to do. As a high ranking officer walking to an enemy encampment is putting my entire army at risk and it is extremely frowned upon. They were insisting that if I go, they accompany me. I had to remind them that if we do not give others the chance to act with honor then we are no better than tyrants. Trust must begin with risk. Just as you came to my camp alone at risk of your life I do the same as a show of faith that we can trust one another. My life is in your hands War Chief and I had to remind my men that I am a good judge of character.”

 

[BlondeAmbition4RP]

Though Iona was not able to speak Marcus' native tongue, she'd been pretty sure that she was understanding the general exchange between himself and his men based upon their tones and body language, though not being able to understand the words themselves did make her uneasy considering the situation that she was in. Now that they would be having more direct contact with the Romans other than just on the battlefield she decided that she would have to make it a point to learn as much of their language as she could. It would not do well for her to have to rely on Marcus to translate for her all of the time.

As he shifted back to her tongue and the pair continued their walk down the shield wall he confirmed her beliefs of what had been said during the exchange, and she nodded in understanding.

"It is good of your men to look after your well being, and I promise that I do not take your trust lightly Commander. You have my word that your life and the lives of your men will be safe while in our encampment moving forward. I will speak with my troops at once about it," she assured him adamantly, growing quiet for a brief moment before adding, "I was greatly troubled when I talked with the woman you spared on the battlefield earlier today and discovered that the men following her that were killed were not attackers, but an escort you'd sent. I want to make sure that such misunderstandings do not happen again, and I think it wise that myself and some of my troops begin to try and learn your tongue."

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He was not happy about the exchange that had taken place. It showed on his face for a brief moment before his features softened as he listened to Iona’s words. Once more he would smile at the smaller woman as they walked down the rows of men. “I have no doubt that you will take every care War-Chief. If I doubted your honor we would not be having such a pleasant discussion.” He nodded his head as she spoke of the men that had fallen accompanying the woman back to her forces. “Those men knew that the order given was likely to cost their lives. Still, you raise a very valid point. It would not due for just me to be able to bridge the gap in communication between your soldiers and mine. We should take steps to correct that as soon as possible.”

He paused in thought and then tilted his head curiously. “I noticed you watching me with interest when I was busy recording the events. It would likely be a good idea for you to learn to read and write my language as well. Do you and your kin have written language? I have noticed that some cultures do, and some favor a traditional oral recording of events. While I was able to find people capable of teaching me your words, I never was able to track down anyone who had seen it written.”

“Aside from the value of being able to permanently record history it also allows for recording cultural art such as stories that might otherwise be lost. We are also able to send written messages to distant places either with trained birds or soldiers who bear the messages on them. It is a way to pass information that does not require the person to speak, or even know the message. Most men do not learn to read and write, but they can still carry a message from one commander to another without ever having read the message. This protects the information from being tortured out of him.”