Prologue: Roman invasion
Opening Act: preparing for invasion
The year was almost 2000 years ago, The place is the roman province of Britannia, and the Germanic northern tribe, known as the Caledonians, is awaiting invasion by the Romans...
Or so it is believed.
In actuality, the Romans give no care to Scotland, and the tribes didn't really seem to mind them taking the lower island, and had no real reason for taking Britain at all..
...
well, except for one belligerent tribe that seems to be intent on "reclaiming the island", an idea which most Roman soldiers worth their salt would laugh at.
but, despite their mirth, this tribe has powerful allies, but they will not need to go to war.
no, what is actually planned by those northern warriors is something more terrible than simply taking Britannia.
…
Camp Deva Victrix, precursor to modern Chester England.
Legio XX Valeria Victrix, the victorious and valiant 20th legion, was stationed at the fort, ready to invade into the north, or defend the border to Caledonia (Scotland) depending on their orders and the events that inspire their orders.
However, as it seems, the only thing besieging the legion is an old enemy of all races, ethnic groups, and walks of life.
The simple and terrible and omnipresent fiend, that goes by the name of “Boredom”.
The shaking boredom, the anxiety, the calm before the storm that you want to both prolong to procrastinate the inevitable, but also want to end and spare you of the slow torture of waiting.
Here is where we start our story, but with a simple disgruntled soldier a midst a great many disgruntled soldiers.
Caspius, a legionnaire, had been sitting on a stone, sharpening his already prepared sword, as there was nothing else to do in the hell of waiting.
His friend, another legionary by the name of Trebonius walked up to him.
“Ave, Caspi.”
He had looked up from his gladius at his trusted companion, and smiled slightly.
“Ave, Treboni. What news have you?”
His friend removed his helmet.
“We are apparently receiving guests”
Finally, his curiosity being aroused, Caspius put down his thoroughly sharpened sword.
“Of the good manner or of the unpleasant?”
A small smile crept upon Trebonius’s face as he sat on the rock across from his friend.
“Of two kinds, the first being a Cohort Praetoria, and second are Equites and other auxiliaries, if that answers your question.”
A chuckle arose from both of them.
“Ah, it seems that command have a plan for us, if they give us such reinforcements. What news from our ‘valiant commander’? I cannot imagine him actually doing anything useful.”
A sound and sign of exasperation came from Trebonius at this display of disrespect.
“Di immortals, Caspius! You shouldn't speak ill of our centurion like that! What if someone overheard?!”
“Indeed, what if someone overheard? How would you justify yourself?”
Both of them jumped at the new voice, and looked to see that it was of a centurion.
However, not theirs, but one unknown to them.
Trebonius and Caspius jumped to attention, saluting the officer as dictated by military conduct.
“Salve, Centurion.” They said in unison
“Salve, hoplites.” Responded the centurion, returning the salute.
Trebonius chuckled at this.
“We are not Greek, sir.”
“I understand, but I consider it to be more familiar of a term. It is best for me to find some way to give my homesickness a small chance of survival.”
Caspius frowned at this.
“Are you from the auxiliaries?”
“No, I am of roman blood, just raised in Greece. I am of the newcomers, but not the auxiliaries.”
In his mind, Trebonius inquired upon the clues.
‘Not of the auxiliaries? We would know his face if he was in our legion… that means…’
This was a Praetor.
The men saluted again, and also bowed a bit.
The Praetor simply frowned at this display. “Please, your respect for me was evident, but I would prefer you answer my question, or rather this amended version: why shouldn't I tell your centurion your disrespect to him?”
Trebonius glanced at his friend with worry.
“Permission to speak frankly, centurion?” asked Caspius.
Trebonius flinched.
The Centurion waved his hand, gesturing for him to continue.
“Because that coward has the gall to insult me after I saved him and the legate.”
The centurion’s eyebrow drifted northward.
“And what do you mean by this?”
Caspius’s expression soured even more.
“Well, I had captured a spy who infiltrated the camp. He was going to certainly kill my commander and the Legate, both of whom were discussing some politics, as well as a sleeping guard stationed at his tent at the time. I struck the sad spy down with my own fists and suffered many injuries myself. However, the commander came outside to see what the trouble was. He saw the situation, drew his sword and killed the already beaten man. He took both the credit and prestige, claiming to have saved the entire cohort from a barbarian assassin that infiltrated the fort.”
The centurion raised an eyebrow, and Trebonius pinched the bridge of his nose, awaiting for Caspius to be beaten in punishment... again.
“Well, that was certainly an intricate and well detailed explanation, why should I believe you?”
A moment of silence and thought passed.
‘What evidence do I really have? The guard was sleeping, and only I and the centurion witnessed the event. The snake, he has more credibility with the officers. The man here is going to be in close contact with both the legate and the master of the camp. If he tells my commander or the legate what I have said, the very least I could be punished with is to be flogged… or killed.’
Caspius finally gave his answer.
“Because no one else will.”
The centurion was about to respond to this, but was interrupted.
“CALL TO ARMS! CALL TO ARMS! THE ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED!”
Immediately those sitting idly had begun preparing for the attack, including the two legionnaires and a praetor.
“We shall talk about this later. I assume you will go with your cohort.”
“Aye sir.” They said in unison.
Little did they know, they would be too busy to refer back to this incident.
---
“WE CARE LITTLE THAT YOU DON’T HAVE FOOD, WE DON’T HAVE ANY OURSELVES!”
“MAYBE IF YOU EARTH PONIES DIDN'T EAT ALL OF IT LIKE THE FAT HORSES YOU ARE, WE WOULD HAVE MORE TO GO AROUND!”
“YOU TWO ARE JUST IMMATURE; WE WON’T STAND TO BE WITH SUCH BRUTES!”
The three ambassadors of the tribes were arguing again.
Not unusual, but thoroughly annoying.
More so, since the winter season had started.
Starswirl the bearded was an old wizard, and was generous enough to let them have this… “debate”… in his castle home.
‘Well, I have made plenty of mistakes in my time.' the wizard thought 'This is just another example of why i shouldn't be so generous.’
The rabble started to grow and progress, and as it did, his patience thinned.
‘Such creatures. How could I be the same species as them.’
Before long, the Pegasus ambassador, Commander Hurricane, had enough of the earth pony ambassador, Chancellor Puddinghead and decided that he could live without his pudding head.
Well, obviously, Puddinghead didn't agree, so it turned into a bit of a disagreement.
The unicorn ambassador, Princess Platinum, got involved only when a bit of dirt got on her clothing.
‘Why didn't they ask me to be the unicorn ambassador? I am surely more qualified than her.’
He shook his head as she flipped the table onto the other two magically.
‘That’s right; I didn't want to have a bias. Well, it doesn't help my desire to be a good sage if I have to deal with these blokes being uncivilized.’
His home started to become a bit more chaotic, with tapestry and furniture being used to strangle and bludgeon.
‘Hmm I should probably step in.’
He calmly used telekinesis to separate them forcefully.
The Pegasus seemed to be rather vexed.
“Let us go Starswirl, or I swear I’ll-”
The sage quickly silenced Hurricane with the “remove mouth” spell he made for fun (and from the prospect of dealing with someone with a dire case of pudding head). Thankfully, for all involved, the remaining two stayed quiet before either could say something profane or incredibly stupid and provoke the sage.
“Now that’s a proper way of convincing me of letting you go, threatening me when you have no power over the situation.”
He focused his powers to merely bind them.
“Now, I was so gracious as to let you come to neutral territory to fight and solve your problems. You were doing the first well enough, I was well entertained indeed. But then I got bored with your bickering and I feel these meetings of just fighting must grow stale, so I am issuing a change of pace.”
He set them down in their seats, making sure to repair his home as well.
“How about instead of just insulting each other, we try to resolve some of our base issues, like lack of food, the inclement weather, and the hordes of monsters about to attack?.”
The two remaining ambassadors able to speak seemed confused at this last bit.
Starswirl sighed, "Well, I would have thought you would have known, but this is obviously something I need to show you."
He used his magic and displayed the image of the gathering monsters on the edge of the desert, not far from the mountain range the castle, which they inhabited currently, resided on.
A chill crossed over them as a massive wolf, one that seemed to make the normal wolves seem like mere pups appeared. along with it were smaller, upright dogs, spears and swords held as weapons.
The picture changed to a Minotaur brandishing an ax covered in blood, it bellowed in rage.
Finally, a black dragon, and a shadowy figure, a indistinguishable form wrapped in a billowing black robe riding on its head were being followed by a large horde of these beasts, leading them out of the deserts, which the ponies have forever called the badlands, to the west.
... Into the domain of ponies.
“These fellows seem to think that we have food, are food, or whatever, and with the fall ending, they are going to run out of options. But, I assume we don’t want to be used as farm animals, slaves, or as meat, so we may want to prevent this.”
He let them go, their struggling having died when they were forced to see the danger in front of them (both figuratively and quite literally.)
"mhmmmmmmhm"
Starswirl looked for the source of the mumbling and saw the Pegasus try, and fail valiantly at developing a skill in ventriloquism.
"MHMMMHM!"
Hurricane seemed keen on having something to say, so Starswirl used his powers and reached into the waste bin he put the Pegasus's mouth in to give that particular item back.
though his mouth tasted of dust and rubbish, the commander spoke his mind.
“How would we stop these monsters, Starswirl?! We Pegasus don’t have the forces to hold these things back, and the other two tribes don’t have Horse-apples in the way of military!”
Before either the earth pony or unicorn could interject, Starswirl motioned for silence, whether or not he had to use magic was not the question at this point.
The question was: "what was his plan?"
What could save the Equus race?
“I think we should summon the great ones.”
---
In the clearing of the forest across the river, set up to be the site of the encampment, the War Chief snorted and stretched his ax-arm.
“How much longer until the spell is complete Donkur?”
The Druid looked up at him in distaste, and went back to drawing the correct runes on the "volunteers".
“Patient, lord, as the Romans have to get inside the fortress to be ready.”
The war chief could not stand the Druid, and the Druid could not stand him.
They both wanted to rule the horde.
The two wanted the other dead.
It was a beautiful business partnership.
“How much are we getting in return, Donkur? I hate to think that I am wasting my warriors for nothing less than compensation. A few of them nice swords and armor pieces would look good in my armory.”
The old man, finally done with the runes, replied
“From what the spirits and contacts have told me, we will take all of Britannia for our tribe.”
A smile slowly stretched on his cracked lips.
“And all the riches we can carry.”
---
In the command center of the fort.
A group of very powerful men sat in silence.
Powerful, in that they were the top military and political leaders in Brittan at the time.
The Centurions and other men of office had gathered to “discuss” the current situation.
The silence was new. Prior, the room was in argument.
"why aren't we doing anything" was thrown around a lot, as was "what are they doing?".
the question was finally asked, “How did they get past the wall?”
“We allowed them to.”
This was the statement and answer, the one that sent the cabin into shock.
Where did it come from?
It came from someone low, a former slave, a freedman, had said it.
however, this was the freedman of the emperor himself, and the entire room let him be seated before sitting back down themselves.
…
the same man had chosen to break the silence,
“We require for you to muster all 10000 men of the legion, the new auxiliaries and my praetors to gather in the gates or simply rest. Let the Barbarians do their work and they will leave.”
finally, the Legate and Master of the camp entered
Both sat down and glared at the freedman, while the legate leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist.
“My troops tell me that you order us to sit idly while the Caledonians reach our walls…”
The freedman nodded.
“Why yes, governor, I did.”
The master of the camp moved to interject, but the legate motioned for him to remain calm.
“Can you grant me the liberty of telling me why we shouldn't kill them?”
The Freedman simply clicked his fingers as his own praetor brought him a small black box and a note.
“These are your orders currently” he handed him the note.
“And these are your orders and instructions for when the Savages are done.” He said, and then gave the black box over as well.
The legate read all of it. Then again.
Then again.
They were short, but very informative instructions.
They were short, but also damned his entire legion.
---
Caspius and Trebonius stood behind the gate, awaiting the order to counter-attack.
Sadly, that order never came, and they just watched the Scots make these runes in the fields nearby.
Again, the damned waiting plagued them.
What most commanders in armed forces know is that these situations leaves vacuums in terms of knowledge for the troops, and nothing fills the speculation like rumors.
“I hear they are just letting the Caledonians do whatever they want because they were paid to.”
“Why are they just pouring liquid everywhere?”
“Why aren't we doing anything?”
“If this is just a prank by Modestus, I swear….”
Questions, speculations, accusations and other such falsehoods quickly fill a void of truth, and almost seamlessly.
But, what also fills it…
“hey, what are they doing?!”
"we need to do something!"
Better than all the above,
“WHY THE HELL ARE WE STILL HERE!?”
"WE NEED TO KILL THESE BASTARDS!"
"GET ME A BOW! I'LL SHOOT ONE RIGHT NOW!"
Is Fear.
---
“With all due respect, this set of orders is not appropriate for my men. I request to decline to follow them.”
The freedman smiled.
“Well, I say you have no choice in the matter.”
The legate slammed his hands on the table in exasperation.
“Please!" the legate bowed "My men aren't to be sacrificed like animals for your damn-“
“I would advise you to be both calm and civil. We don’t want you ending up as your predecessor, Agricola.”
Silence had again reached the building, albeit this time it was more pregnant of a pause.
The men subconsciously gathered towards the poles of authority, ready to fight for their respective leader if needed be.
“Agricola also disobeyed an order… he let the old British king live, or tried to. We advise you not to make the same mistake.”
A horn blew outside the walls, and in entered the centurion of the praetorian cohort.
“Sirs, we are receiving reports of the Caledonians retreating into the woods.”
The commanders were confused.
The legate was not.
And the freedman simply smiled.
“Well, it seems you have little choice anyway, both with me and inevitability of doing your duty. We will be off.”
The legate slumped into his seat as the freedman was preparing to leave, before being stopped by the master of the camp.
“And why would you be leaving?”
The smile disappeared.
“Only your legate is allowed to know.”
The smile appeared in the room again, on not the freedman’s face, but on the Camp Master’s.
“And only he is allowed to leave this camp while it is under siege, and that is only with the proper bodyguards.”
The freedman looked extremely fettered, and his own men looked on with worry
they would, if need be, protect their charge…
but what could be so bad about staying?
---
Starswirl looked at his notes again, and carved into the ground again, furthering the complicated series of runes left as instructions for the ritual.
The tribe leaders both feared and revered this unicorn, but what he compared to was a gnat in the face of the old ones.
"what does he think to accomplish" hissed the unicorn, "all we normally get is a sword or a painting"
"I got this helmet." replied the commander
"But that was small scale compared to this! he is going to-"
a large, booming voice that could only be from Starswirl's magic rang,
"I also hear he has functioning hearing."
the ponies had to shiver in fear from the sudden onset of what would become the royal canterlot voice.
"it is done, please stand back."
they backed up, sheepishly.
What they all feared was that star swirl would do the necessary evil.
He focused all of his magic, his horn growing an unnatural green.
"I will bring Gods here."
---
The legionnaires had not yet panicked, for there was no reason once the Caledonians retreated. But, as fate would have it, the Caledonians arrived again, this time marked in black runes of pitch.
Caspius had made the assumption that these Scots were doing something quite like the Israelites during and after Masada, a massive suicidal demonstration of their will, that they will never to never bow to Rome.
However, now that he saw these men, he feared that it was worse than that.
Trebonius as well knew, but had figured out what the runes were.
“Good gods, they are going to set it all on fire.”
Fire, fire was a problem for Romans throughout history.
Particularly because they built most of their structures with wood,
like forts.
…
Like the one they were in…
…
Fear once again had reason to come back.
"THE ENTIRE THING IS MADE OF PITCH!"
"WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF-"
they stopped their shouts. The torches were brought out, but they were not lit, which did not bring relief to the watching legionnaires, but confusion.
A chant was heard, it was ominous and unintelligible, and the torches glowed with green fire.
before the men could react, the land was in blaze, green fire spreading even onto the skin of the men in the fields, snaking towards the camp.
"how in-"
"its so brigh-"
“what is-“
These sentences were never finished, for the speakers had gone.
---
Starswirl’s eyes glowed brilliantly, as did the whole of the field.
The ambassadors looked on in horror, as a massive building, part by part, was slowly materializing in front of them.
It was wooden, made of material less sophisticated than castles, but appeared to be easily assembled.
They could see pieces of armor start to form, their weapons following, they thought this was all that would happen.
but lo, each set of armor arrived with the respective owner, passed out and laid down.
Starswirl was staggering each breath threatening his balance, and he was kept up only by his sheer will.
It was remarkable that after teleporting a whole fort and its inhabitants from across the planes of existence he was able to speak.
“it is done, I have saved-“
*thump*
… for as long as he could, until the wizard followed the lead of the newcomers and fell unconscious.
---
It is almost done,
The note had been read to the officers, and they had decided to do their duty.
All in the cabin heard the shouts of the men outside vanish slowly.
All centurions but one stood beside the Master of the Camp, ready to keep the pious man in with them if he tried to escape.
The last one had chosen to fall on his sword, after hearing the plan.
The general thought was “Might as well take the bastard down with the rest of us in his plan.”
The peculiar thought in this situation was “this isn't going to plan.”
Three guesses as to whom that last thought belonged to, first two don’t count.
The legate got up from his seat, carrying a fairly large bottle of his own private reserve, and walked over to the freedman, put his arm around him and started to read from the instructions again.
“Welcome, dear legate, as you are about to find out, you and your legion have chosen, or been chosen to participate in a glorious campaign that will make you all go down in the annals of history.
Welcome, to Imperio: Bellum Gerere Xenosphere,’”
Operation: Conquest of the alien world.
SPQR: Xenosphere.
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Ha, funny, Octavian was from an equestrian family!
Also, if this legion is in Brittania pushing north into Caledonia, they would not be fighting Caledonians, they would be engaging tribal Picts. Praetorians were Germanic, not Balkan, as "Praetorian" was a nationality at the time, not a rank. "Praetor" was a rank, however. This fellow Donkur, I believe that his title, in a tribal situation, would be more fitted with either shaman, druid or sorcerer, "wizard" was not coined until the Medieval Period.
M'kay, time for some good old Klondike style constructive criticisms.
First off, this is a commendably refreshing idea. Going back to the actual tribal division in Equestrian history is rarely ever touched on, and I always want to see more Equestrian history. Bbbbbuuuuut, though your concept is good, the execution could stand for some improvement. Like most other readers on this site, I will invoke the old adage of "Show vs Tell". In the first few sentences, you simply just tell us where the characters are and what is happening. That is kind of a no-no. Instead of just telling someone that a freedman client of Augustus Caesar held more clout than even the highest patrician senator, try to imply it. Say that the legates all minded their tongues around the Emperor's client, that the centurions and regulars all scrambled just to make sure he didn't so much as frown in contempt. Imply that he has power over all of them, without directly saying it.
The next thing that I noticed, you tend to start a new paragraph each time you start a new sentence. It's kind of the opposite from the normal first time fic, where everything is one gigantic paragraph, but it makes your story harder to get into.
Eugh, that's just in bad taste. That's two sentences that took up four lines. How about we try:
But even if you do compact the sentences into proper paragraphs, not many of those will be very long. Your story lacks details. I'm not talking about details of the age, or breaches of the fourth wall to directly address the reader, I'm talking about narrative and action detail sentences!
Oh, nicely done on the narrative description there, that is possibly one of the more correct bits in here. But, it was immediately followed by:
That sentence is not descriptive of action nor is it narrative. There is a subject, but no predicate.
There are other things that I could go into, but it's late for me, and I have to dig my car out in the morning to go to work. But, since you have intrigued me, I shall keep my eye on this one.
Well fuck, I can't compete with a post like that...
2170075
i am vigourously taking notes... it will be fixed in the morning.
Ah, so another Roman fic! Keep it up centurio; Rome depends on you! But in all seriousness, this looks interesting. I'll look into this soon.
changes have been made now that i am more lucid.
still, if anything seems amiss, please point it out.
2170957
Ave amici,
I didn't see your story until now,
very good to know there are some other Romans on this site.
2174766 Romaphiles, actually.
2175054
same difference.
2175818 Ah well. In any case, I shall be giving this a read when time permits. Maybe expect a comment this week.
did you know that there is a legion called "Legio X Equestris"?
2432609
....
this... this is...
too many parallels to ponies are to be made in roman trivia.
I like it,... but please do me a big favor, don't write in the 'royal' Capslog, thank you...