The Ultimate Spoils (Tumultus Chronicles Book 1)

by Nathan R. Mancini

  ‘Shall we use training or live weapons?’ asked Xaphia.

  ‘Live weapons,’ said Corvinus. ‘No challenge otherwise.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Xaphia said, drawing a sword from her belt and standing in the centre of the hall.

  Corvinus swung his arms, loosening his muscles as he made his way over to the weapons rack on the side wall.

  He picked a gladius – the standard weapon of Arcemite legionnaires – and returned to stand before his opponent.

  Though the gladius was smaller than Xaphia’s curved sword, Corvinus trusted his proficiency with its blade from his schooling and military service to make up for the disparity. There was an expectation for Arcem’s nobility to be competent in all things military and it could not be said that Corvinus had been found wanting. He was the son of a famed soldier after all.

  Slowly, they began to circle each other, eyes focussed on their opponent, searching for any weakness to exploit.

  Corvinus made the first move.

  As quick as lightning, his blade descended to carve Xaphia in two. No sooner had the gladius struck for his opponent than it was deflected by an equally swift parry. The two swords met in a clash that echoed throughout the hall. The duel had begun.

  The first stroke almost cost Corvinus dearly as Xaphia went on the attack, her block suddenly turning into a downward slice. Corvinus spun on his heels, narrowly dodging the curved edge of his opponent’s sword.

  Before his turn was complete, Corvinus found himself already parrying a second strike and a third swiftly after that as Xaphia became a blur of steel.

  Using her height to press a dangerous advantage, she danced around him.

  It took all his skill just to follow her movements as Corvinus struggled to bring his gladius up in time to each new threat. As shocking as the notion was, Corvinus knew his opponent was holding back despite the ferocity of her attack. Xaphia was toying with him.

  The thought drove Corvinus to fury as he pressed forward, trying to draw closer to his opponent. If he could get through her guard, her long reach would be negated. Up close and personal, that was the killing zone of the gladius and was exactly how Arcem’s legionnaires liked to fight.

  Corvinus managed a strike amid the flurry that flew against him. But his opponent read the move and raised her blade high to parry.

  The heavy blade of the gladius slid off the curve of Xaphia’s sword but Corvinus followed through with the motion, stepping in close with a lunge aimed straight for Xaphia’s exposed underarm.

  With a cracking of bone, the blow was deflected as Xaphia’s arm twisted in the most unnatural of ways to parry the strike. Rotating well beyond human limitation, she battered the gladius away.

  Before he had time to abhor the alien’s flex of limb, Corvinus realised he was no longer holding his sword. Retched from his grip by the force of his opponent’s counter, the gladius skidded across the stone floor with a clatter.

  Xaphia’s heavy boot swung out and took Corvinus’ footing from beneath him. He fell hard, landing on his back with the razor edge of a curved blade resting neatly on his throat.

  ‘Yield?’ asked Xaphia.

  Corvinus looked up, blinking his sight back into focus. Xaphia’s bronze mask stood over him and it was easy to envision her sly smile beneath.

  ‘Men of Arcem may fall but never again shall we yield,’ he coughed.

  ‘Yes I’ve heard that before,’ said Xaphia, sheathing her sword, ‘but such pride would only leave you as a corpse beneath my blade.’

  Xaphia offered him her hand.

  ‘Come,’ she said, ‘others will be here soon and it would not be good for you to be seen so defeated.’

  Corvinus glared at the hand before him, imagining the wiry grey fingers beneath the black leather glove. Reluctantly he took the proffered hand and let his guard help him up.

  ***

  Tribune Fulvio approached the walls of the citadel. The howling arctic winds ceased momentarily as he rode through the outer gateway into the courtyard beyond. Though Fulvio was warm under his wolf fur coat and leather gloves, he could see his riding companion was not so well outfitted and shivered from the breeze, bare hands frozen in their clawed grip.

  Fulvio pulled back on the reins and his horse whinnied in response; its breath fogging in the cold as it came to stop before the steps of the inner keep. The mountain bastion towered above but its heights had long since lost its effect on him.

  He spotted several legionnaires around the courtyard and barrack huts going about their business cleaning and repairing their kits. Swathed in heavy winter cloaks, their faces and much of their armour was covered against the freezing wind. Not one of them looked up from their work or gave any sign of notice to the new arrivals.

  Removing the scarf from his face Fulvio looked around, displeased at Ultor’s cold reception of such nobility. Where were the legion officers and servants to attend to him upon arrival? Surely they had known a senator, their tribune no less, was coming.

  Fulvio shook his head, dissatisfied, but too tired from the long days of riding since Monarx to wait in the cold for a greeting that would not come.

  ‘You there,’ he called to a nearby soldier, ‘take this horse to the stables, have it brushed and fed well and keep it out of the cold.’

  The legionary turned and looked at the tribune questioningly.

  ‘Now,’ said Fulvio, ‘or do you not know your superiors when you see them?’

  ‘Sir,’ said the legionary, quick to grasp the reins as the tribune dismounted. Fulvio landed with a crunch as the hard snow squashed beneath his boots.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘You may take my companion’s horse too while you are at it.’

  With his free hand the soldier beat his fist on his armoured chest in a hasty salute, before reaching to grab the reins from the tribune’s fellow traveller.

  Fulvio nodded. Then, looking over his shoulder, he called out.

  ‘Are you coming Bantius?’

  Bow-legged and stiff from the ride, the man identified as Bantius dismounted with none of the grace of his companion. Rubbing his hands to keep warm, he marched briskly to join Fulvio, who was already walking up the steps of the keep.

  As they approached the entrance to the inner citadel, the pair of legionaries standing guard parted the heavy doors for them.

  Inside the room was dim, though on either side of the doorway braziers were lit, trying to take the edge off the cold outside. As they entered, both breathed a sigh of relief to finally be out of the wind.

  A man entered from an adjacent room, his tunic stamped with the thick black numerals “IV” marking his servitude to that legion.

  ‘Welcome to Ultor,’ said the slave, bowing low. ‘Rooms have been prepared for you, if you would care to follow me.’

  Bantius smiled at the prospect of some rest. Shaking off the flakes of snow that had built up on his coat, he went to follow the legion slave before Fulvio spoke up.

  ‘We carry a letter for Senator Corvinus on behalf of the consul. You will take us to him first, for I shall not be reduced to a messenger any longer.’

  ‘As you wish,’ said the slave. ‘General Corvinus is currently in the training hall, this way please.’

  The slave led them through a series of winding stairwells and corridors into the heart of the citadel. The passageways had a damp air to them and most of the rooms they passed were bare, lacking all ornamentation or anything that could be considered furniture by an aristocrat. Only the occasional legion banner adorned the cold walls of Ultor. Fulvio frowned at the state of the citadel and was glad that he would not be staying in this backwater garrison again for long. Their orders would soon see them marching against the Evastii. Until then he only hoped the slaves could be trusted to keep the hearth stoked in his quarters.

  Eventually they emerged into a massive hall. Its chamber must have run the entire length of the citadel, for it stretched off for a great distance. The walls were lined with vast racks o
f training weapons, each boasting an impressive collection of foreign and deadly looking blades. Just by a casual glance one was able to see the gladius was the main weapon stocked. Many hundreds, if not thousands of the swords lined the walls, quantities almost enough to arm a legion anew.

  Towering stone pillars dotted the room, supporting the roof where sculpted angels and leering gargoyles did battle in the shadows of the arches high above them. Bantius looked up, marvelling at the ancient architecture. Fulvio was not so interested and walked straight towards the two figures in the centre of the room. The great hall was nothing new to him, as Tribune of the Fourth Legion Fulvio had been here many times before.

  ***

  Corvinus ceased their training as he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned towards the entranceway to face their new arrivals. In his periphery he saw Xaphia bow before leaving his side, fading into the background of the hall like a common bodyguard.

  ‘Senator Corvinus, salve,’ Tribune Fulvio called, his voice echoing across the room.

  ‘Tribune Fulvio, salve,’ said Corvinus, holding out his hand.

  Fulvio took the proffered arm in the traditional military greeting, his grip strong.

  ‘This is Senator Lucius Bantius of House Furii,’ said Fulvio indicating his companion. ‘The Senate has recently appointed him Tribune of the Third Legion.’

  ‘Salve Tribune Bantius,’ said Corvinus, offering his hand out to the man. ‘I suppose it is fitting that I be the first to welcome you to the legion.’

  As they clasped hands in greeting, Corvinus took a moment to consider the man who was to be his second in command.

  In his mid-twenties, Bantius carried an air of nobility around him. Like a younger version of Fulvio, his hair was cut short and well oiled. Beneath his fur coat, Bantius displayed several gold chains around his neck, draping prominently over his armour as if to impress his wealth upon others.

  ‘House Furii,’ said Corvinus, ‘your family owns some of the quarries among the islands of the Aecor Collectives if I remember correctly?’

  ‘My family owns all of the quarries in the Aecor Collectives,’ said Bantius.

  Corvinus nodded, already beginning to dislike the man. Whatever House Furii’s wealth, it was still a minor family in the politics of the Senate and as such could do little more than trail the direction of the upper houses like Fulvio’s.

  ‘And may I ask with which legions you fought before this?’ said Corvinus.

  ‘I was stationed with the garrison in Syphax for my military service,’ Bantius answered.

  ‘I do not recall there to have been any hostility in Syphax since they became Arcem’s protectorate over a century ago,’ said Corvinus. ‘Where did you serve after that?’

  ‘I served my two years as expected by the Senate,’ said Bantius with clearly growing irritation. ‘Once my duty was fulfilled, I returned to enter public life in Monarx.’

  ‘Are you to tell me the Senate have sent me a military tribune who has yet to see action?’ said Corvinus.

  ‘I have served Arcem in my own way for longer than you,’ said Bantius, ‘I could be with real soldiers earning glory yet the Senate expects me to take orders from a boy who has never held a command before, in a no-name, undermanned legion. That is the true travesty.’

  Corvinus definitely disliked the man.

  ‘You should excuse my companion’s frustration,’ said Fulvio, ‘it has been a long and arduous ride from Monarx, he is merely tired.’

  Bantius glared at Fulvio but eventually backed down.

  ‘Forgive my temper,’ he said at last, ‘I am tired as Tribune Fulvio says. Perhaps it would be best if I retire to my quarters and be properly received afresh tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Corvinus, ‘I am sure we will be brothers in no time.’

  Without ceremony, Bantius turned sharply and marched away, leaving the legion slave to hurry after him.

  Corvinus watched them go before turning to face Fulvio. The older tribune also seemed uptight, but hid it well behind a more dignified manner.

  ‘So what news from the capital?’ asked Corvinus. ‘I was under the impression the Senate would have been dismissed already for the winter months and that my father would have joined you on the ride here.’

  ‘The senators have been dismissed for winter once more but your father was delayed by Elder Liberius,’ said Fulvio. ‘Both consuls were required for questioning in his ongoing investigations for the Spolia Opima.’

  ‘Arcem has barbarian raiders across its lands and the Senate holds back its consuls from leading its armies to war. That is absurd,’ said Corvinus.

  ‘It is highly irregular,’ Fulvio admitted, ‘but I do not think Liberius would have done so without good reason. The search for the culprits behind the theft must be near to its conclusion.’

  From the corner of his eye, Corvinus saw the shadowy form of Xaphia against one of the stone pillars behind the tribune. Listening in on their conversation, she drew one of her curved blades from its scabbard with the stealth of a cunning assassin, ready for the worst.

  ‘Which reminds me, I have a letter for you from your father,’ said Fulvio, as he began riffling through the inside of his coat.

  While the tribune’s attention was distracted in his search, Corvinus stared at his bodyguard and shook his head. Xaphia paused, her bronze mask nodded slowly before she withdrew behind the pillar and was lost from sight.

  ‘Here it is,’ Fulvio said at last, brandishing a crumpled letter in his hand.

  Corvinus took the letter. Breaking the wax seal embossed with the raven crest of his father, Corvinus read its contents.

  ‘The Senate has finally recognised the legitimacy of my legion,’ he said with a smile. ‘In response to Evastii crisis, the Third Legion has been officially added to the Senate scrolls and pay lists.’

  ‘Congratulations, state finance should help your recruitment very nicely when this is all over,’ said Fulvio. ‘I suppose the appointment of Tribune Bantius was due to this announcement.’

  ‘Now I just need to find a Camp Prefect to ease my work and the Third Legion will be complete,’ laughed Corvinus.

  ‘I am sure Prefect Castus will be more than happy to assist you with such duties.’

  ‘He already has, thank the gods.’

  Fulvio nodded. ‘Is there anything else in the letter?’ he asked.

  Corvinus looked back to the page. As he continued reading Corvinus felt his heart beat quicken.

  ‘It endorses my command of the Third Legion, and of both legions of Ultor in the coming campaign.’

  ‘What was that?’ asked a suddenly alert Fulvio.

  ‘In my father’s absence it says command of the Fourth Legion is to be entrusted to me as well,’ stated Corvinus.

  ‘Let me see that.’

  Fulvio snatched the letter from his hand, eyes racing through the rest of the message.

  ‘That cannot be right,’ he said.

  ‘The letter is countersigned by Consul Zeno,’ Corvinus pointed out. ‘I do not think it is mistaken.’

  ‘No offence, but you are decidedly inexperienced for such a command. A single legion is insignificant enough for tradition to turn a blind eye, but two?’ said Fulvio. ‘Surely you see as Tribune of the Fourth Legion, I am its rightful commander in the absence of your father.’

  ‘Normally that might be the case, but those orders were penned by my father as consul and his intentions are clear,’ said Corvinus. ‘Technically speaking, as General of a legion I outrank you, Tribune. If you don’t see that surely you understand that the Valerii Legions should be commanded by a Valerii?’

  ‘No, I do not,’ said Fulvio bitterly, dropping the letter.

  Like Bantius before him, Fulvio stormed out of the great hall.

  Corvinus watched the tribune go, feeling a wave of unease mixed with excitement wash over him. As much as he hated the thought of discord within his command, the opportunity could not to be wasted.

  C
orvinus bent down and picked up the crumpled letter from the stone floor. The message ended with the words he had been awaiting ever since arriving in Ultor days before. It was time to march. Arcem’s north had been mobilised and was ready to coordinate against the Evastii. The same orders had been sent to the other garrisons and their commanding officers, and they would soon be in the field.

  General Horatius and his men would march south from Tarqus and drive the enemy towards the Valerii legions heading north from Ultor. Between them and Consul Zeno’s legion coming from Emissus in the west, the Evastii incursion was to be isolated against the mountains and crushed.

  Corvinus felt the metal on his spine twitch with anticipation. The time for war games was over. The real beast was calling.

  IV

  ‘When in doubt, advance.’

  Arcemite battle saying.

  When reciting the histories of the world, it was said that the men of Tumultus had once been united as one nation. That is, before The Fall – before their almighty technologies had scorched the world and reduced its people to a primitive existence. But Corvinus did not believe much of the old tales.

  Looking up at the distant figures of the Evastii enemy he could not imagine there ever being a time of peace with them. Though their men were little more than specks on the mountainside at this distance, Corvinus could still make out the brutish war banners driven into the slopes before their camp. Each was emblazoned with clan symbols, a host of skulls, runes and beasts glared down on the legions of Arcem below.

  In the days since crossing into Arcem, the Evastii had quickly realised the danger of being caught in the open plains between four Arcemite legions. Instead of trying to fight and overpower each legion individually or to break loose into Arvum Superior, the Evastii army had withdrawn to secure a position in the mountains.

  Lacking their usual belligerence, this move had been most surprising and Corvinus wondered whether their leader, Ariogaisus, had lost his warring spirit. As the longest-reigning Evastii king, he must be a grey old man by now.

  But once the Valerii legions had tracked the Evastii back to the mountains of Arcem’s north-eastern fringe and seen their position, Corvinus knew there was still some sense in the king’s judgment.