Memoriter (RP)

[Gratus]

Chapter I : "Today the Roman, and his trouble ..."

Bastards, the lot of them.

Of all the provinces I could have been sent to complete my military service, Southern Caledonia must be one of the biggest shitholes any honest Roman had ever set foot in. My two-week stay in Viroconium had shown me all I would ever need to see of Britannia, and Eboracum had not been much of an improvement.

And now, traveling up through an ungodly hailstorm towards the town of Corstopitum, it became clear ... this whole place was the arse-end of the Empire.

Somewhere I detected the subtle hand of my father, working the strings and ensuring that the early years of my career were an experience not to be forgotten. He would soon beat the rebel out of me, of that he had always been sure ... at this rate, though, he would sooner kill me in the process.

* * * *

On arriving in town I made haste for the comforting shelter of the nearest tavern. Outside, the streets had been deserted, but in here there were civilians and legionaries alike enjoying a break from the relentless storm which hung over the place. Back home my friends had warned me about the ghastly weather of Britannia ... and it had not been exaggeration.

I took a seat next to a stranger at the back of the room, who wore a sullen expression along with a military kilt of hidestrips.

"You look like somebody else who would rather be back in the homeland," I said, in the warmest tone I could muster at this moment. "Pour me a cup of that wine and let us speak together in honour of Rome."

"Very well," the stranger replied. "You look like you are new to these parts. My name is Caracturus Piscius."

"Gratus," I told him, as I gratefully accepted the wine. "Of the Furii family."

"Ah," he said. "You are new. I heard you were coming ... you have been assigned to Cohors I Vardullorum, yes? We will share this drink and then I will escort you to our campus, just north of here ..."

* * * *

The Vardulli campus was one of the more impressive auxiliary forts in this province, I had been told, though it was relatively new to the area. As Caracturus led me north and away from Corstopitum, the hailstorm as if by magic began to clear and was replaced by welcoming blue skies.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

On the outskirts of the camp we were confronted by a rowdy legionary, who I would later learn was named Ruso.

"Relax, friend," said Caracturus, calmly. "This our expected arrival, Gratus Furius. I have brought him here from Corstopitum."

Ruso paused for a moment and surveyed me with weary eyes. The sight of a full legionary kitted out with segmentata was a welcome one, and even this far from the homeland he represented to me a bright symbol for the Glory of Rome. Perhaps my time here would not be so fruitless after all.

"Well, you look like an angry little bastard," said Ruso. "We'll get along just fine."

And so I was escorted to the interior of the fort, and soon began to find my feet in my new home. I was introduced to Auxiliary Prefect Publicola, who was known to be a leader who inspired a fervent loyalty amongst his troops, though the unit itself was held in reserve and did not see much front-line action at this time. I found it to be a quiet campus, and a surprisingly pleasant place to live ...

But that was all soon to change.

[Gratus]

Chapter II : "Omnes barbari delundi sunt ..."

"And that's the one we call 'shaved pussy mountain'."

Auxiliary officer Peanas raised his finger to the horizon and pointed vaguely towards a hill which did, indeed, resemble a hairless vagina.

"By Jupiter," I said, as I shook my head in amusement and returned to my work. "You men out here have far too much time on your hands."

Military life, as I discovered, was not the life-threatening skull-bashing adventure that many imaginative veterans would have you believe. Much of our time on campus was filled with the daily toil of maintaining and expanding the camp. I managed tile production for a new workshop ... brick productive for some new stoves ... ultimately the place ran like clockwork, and all was quiet.

Following a brief spell in service with Cohors I Vardullorum, I had been anticipating a transfer to the associated Legio 17. However, this transfer never materialised. Legate Kinslayer and many of his top men had not been seen in the area for some time, I was told, and thus military operations were in stasis.

For a young Roman being of noble lineage and having great ambitions, being in stasis is never a good thing. But, as always, fate found its way of intervening in such matters.

* * * *

So much noise.

The serine campus had suddenly errupted into a chaotic mass of shouting and movement. Fighting my way through the crowd, I tried to make out through the din what on earth was going on. Everybody was fully kitted up with their spears and shields, and to the north it looked like the fort had been breached. Was that a corpse next to the tailoring workshop ... ?

I grabbed hold of the arm of a passing Tirones and demanded an explanation.

"A barbarian named Flavius led an attack on our camp," he said, hurriedly. "We held them off and they retreated north, but there was a fatality ..."

"You ladies had visitors?"

All eyes turned to look as three legionaries nonchalantly strolled into the fort from the south. Throughout the chaos these men projected an aura of calm, as if this was day-to-day life for them.

They were unmistakable as members of the 18th Legion. It was the first time I had encountered men from that unit, but their reputation preceded them. Legio 18 were universally recognised as being some of the finest Roman combatants in the region at this time ... known as being in equal parts deadly and insane.

"Which of you little girls has rank?" one of the legionaries demanded.

I looked around me at the crowd of fresh new recuits. Damn, where were the officers when you need them?

"Uh ... I suppose that would be me," I spoke up.

"Well, we're going to head north and hit Erring in retaliation for this," he told me. "We're going to hit them fucking hard. You're welcome to tag along as a representative, or you can just sit around here playing dress-up. Your choice."

* * * *

And hit them fucking hard we did.

The 18th Legion cut down barbarians by the dozen as we laid siege to the little village of Erring. Samara, the Lady of Erring, made a noble stand firing arrows with deadly accuracy from atop her medium hut. The barbarian leader Atticuz led a small contigent of celtic warriors to fight against us in vain. But ultimately, the town was overrun and there was no question of the the victory. Flavius himself was run down and brought to justice by Roman spears.

After we had put the settlement under siege for hours, and I had witnessed the carnage first-hand, legionary Ruso arrived with a small Vardulli detachment to reinforce the main army.

"Shit ..." he said, looking out over the ravaged village. "Looks like I already missed most of the fun."

I nodded silently. Part of me felt that I should be horrified by the mindless slaughter I had witnessed here today. But the truth was, I had had my first taste of Roman Glory ... and I wanted more.

[Gratus]

Chapter III: "El incidente"

Publicola Ulpius was a native Briton who had risen to the rank of Auxiliary Prefect through hard work and determination. Like many prominent military figures in Caledonia, he had formerly been a member of the famed 18th Legion. He was renowned throughout the land for being the wise master of innumerable crafting skills, and many people would travel from far and wide to be taught the secrets of their trade from the master himself.

His camp was a tight ship, and there was rarely any trouble within the ranks. When an obviously undesirable personality emerged, they would find themselves transfered elsewhere or suffer an even worse fate.

One such troublemaker was a young Spaniard named Neonus, who was suspected of theft. Rather than have to endure the full severity of Roman military discipline, though, he had managed to secure himself a transfer to the 18th Legion and scarpered away from the Vardulli campus without facing the full penalty for his crimes.

These events had struck a note of dischord among the troops, who would not tolerate such blatantly undisciplined behaviour from one of their own. Within a matter of days, this unrest would reach a grisly and unpleasant boiling point.

* * * *

"Ave Magistrate," I said, solemnly.

Dorotheus Numerius, the Magistrate of Corstopitum, was another man whose wisdom and special knowledge were known well across Caledonia. However, he was not on campus today to teach but rather to observe and dissect the gruesome events which had taken place earlier that day.

"This was the scene of the incident?" he replied, in a business-like manner.

I led him over to where Peanas, a respected Vardulli officer, was casually rolling some tesserae on the ground and looking blissfully unconcerned by what was going on. Dorotheus paused to examine some blood spots as well as a spear and shield strewn on the grass nearby.

"Salve Peanas," I said. "Is this the spot where you attacked Neonus?"

"Here I stabbed him," Peanas replied, before pointing to a spot about ten feet away. "There I stabbed him. And over by those trees I stabbed him again."

I was just about able to surpress a smile at his casual response. Dorotheus nodded and set about examining the scene and gathering evidence. It seemed fairly clear what had happened ... Neonus had shown up in a place where he'd known he would be less than welcome, and had suffered the unfortunate consequences. He should be glad he was at least able to get away in one piece ... as battered and broken as that piece may be.

"I will take these items away as evidence," said Dorotheus. "Unfortunately, it does not look good. Neonus is now a recruit of the 18th Legion, and I doubt they will take too kindly to the Vardulli attacking one of their men."

"Indeed," I replied. "I just hope this can be resolved in a diplomatic fashion without too much of a fuss."

Little did I know the chain of events that this incident had already set in motion ... a chain that would ultimately come to threaten the very fabric of Roman unity in Caledonia.

[Gratus]

Chapter IV : "Audax Gemina"

The Neonus incident did not divert my attention too much from what had been on my mind for some time. True greatness, for a Roman, could only be forged in the fire of battle. And with Legio 17 being inactive in the area, it was Legio 18 who dominated military campaigns in Caledonia.

Despite the bad blood that was already on the verge of spilling between the men of the Vardulli and the 18th Legion, it did not take a great deal of manouvering to secure my transfer between units. I departed Vardulli lands on good terms, with the promise that I may return someday should the 17th resume active service in the region. Little did I know the full extent of what was to come in the months and years that followed, and what this promise would come to mean for myself and others ...

* * * *

Legio XVIII Audax Gemina was the longest-serving offensive unit in Caledonia, and within its ranks were some of the toughest and most battle-hardened veterans in all of Britannia. It was led by Legate Vlad, a feiry and dedicated leader of men who had achieved many great things on the field of battle.

When I joined, at the head of the 18th were the Triumvirate of Vlad and his two chief advisors Torgonius and Junia. Torgonius was a man who had seen much combat before entering the priesthood and erecting a magnificient temple just north-west of the 18th campus. His son, Torginae, served in the ranks of the legion as an accomplished warrior and was very well-respected among the other men.

And then there was Junia. Generally speaking it is, of course, unheard of for a woman to serve in the Roman army, least of all as an officer. However given her status as one of the finest combatants in all of Caledonia, and given her popularity among the soldiers of the 18th, the Empire looked the other way as Junia filled her role in a manner equal or superior to any man. She was as feared and respected as any member of the 18th.

It was a difficult transition. To begin with, I struggled to fit in amongst these men who were accustomed to the daily bloodshed and harshness that their daily life in this province entailed. It was a more intense and hostile atmosphere than I had encountered in the Vardulli ... but at times there was, too, a great sense of comradery.

The 18th legion were one unit, and one voice. Fervently loyal and unflinchingly brutal.

* * * *

"Halt!"

"Greetings! My name is Banquo, of House Veneficus."

I approached the outskirts of Ursus Island just as an overzealous legionary was pointing his pilum vaguely in the direction of an approaching stranger. Soldiers in this unit were always suspicious of outsiders, I had noticed, but this man looked harmless enough dressed in a simple toga. I motioned for the legionary to lower his weapon.

"Salve stranger," I said. "What is your business here?"

"I seek an audience with Legate Vlad."

It was not unheard of for emissaries from the various prominent Houses and local powers in Caledonia to make their way to Ursus Island in order to discuss recent political matters. As the most prominent military unit, the 18th were often found at the centre of such things. After acknowledging Banquo's request I made my way to the Principia, where I found Vlad and informed him of our visitor.

"Banquo?" Vlad looked up from his papers and frowned. "Is he not an associate of Progresso et Industria? Remove him from our lands, man."

It was a surprising reaction ... the very mention of the name had seemed to light a fire and I dared not broach the subject any further ... and nevertheless, I was not one to question orders so I quickly made my way back to where the legionary was still standing guard over this apparently unwelcome guest.

"Sorry, Patron," I told him, cautiously. "I have been asked to see you off our lands."

Banquo smirked at this. "So I take it your Legate has no interest in iron from the east?"

"Remove yourself from our campus," I said. "Or we will need to remove you ourselves ..."

The man stared at me for a long moment, before turning to leave without saying a word. Myself and the legionary followed close behind to ensure that he and his entourage did indeed leave our lands, before making our way back to the camp. This incident left me with many questions, and it seemed there was a lot I needed to learn about the local politics of the region. Who were Progresso et Industria? What was their history with the 18th Legion?

Questions which would soon enough be answered, one way or another.

[Gratus]

Chapter V : "A deeper wound in the soul ..."

The criminal Neonus predictably did not last long in the disciplined ranks of the 18th. His presence simply proved to be too much of a distraction and caused great dischord among the troops. Ultimately he was cut loose, and fled to Corstopitum where he went into hiding for many months.

But the damage was already done ... with the facts of the case not being fully understood, the word had spread throughout Caledonia like wildfire that a member of the Vardulli had attacked a member of the 18th Legion. Whether on the streets, in the villas or out amongst the barley fields, it was all people spoke of.

The Legate known as 'Kinslayer' had himself returned to Caledonia to deal with the matter personally. However, I would later learn of a history between Vlad and Legate Kinslayer, who had also once served in the ranks of the 18th and felt he had not found the opportunities to further his military career. I was told that other officers had been promoted at his expense while he was passed over, which apparently brought the proud Germanic warrior great shame and outrage.

History is often driven by personality, not rationality, and the truth was that there was never any hope of a diplomatic resolution between these two steadfast Legates.

* * * *

Shit ...

I lay on my back beside the river, with my whole body aching in pain. Desperate to impress the higher ranking members of Legio 18, I had been working overtime out here on the outskirts of Ursus Island desperately trying to find good clay spots for our latest workshop construction. On the plus side, I had found a good spot, though the discovery had landed me flat on my back.

Eventually I brought myself to my feet, and was preparing to limp back to camp when from out in the darkness I heard a voice.

"Is everyone here?"

My entire body froze as I recognised that the raspy voice in the darkness spoke not in latin, but in some native Celtic tongue. Barbarians ...

I quickly fell down out of sight on the riverbank, keeping close to the ground and watching these intruders from afar. There were so many of them ... and it looked like they were gearing up to head east, towards Corstopitum. My mind was ablaze as I thought of the unsuspecting residents of the city, being blissfully unaware of the large-scale barbarian raid that was about to land on their doorstep.

Staying low and hidden in the darkness, I waited until the last of the savages had headed out before gathering together a small group of legionaries and heading east, at quick pace ...

* * * *

As it turned out the untrained rabble of barbarians could not match the speed of a well-practised military march, and we arrived in Corstopitum well ahead of the impending raiding party. However, it was clear that the force we could muster would not be close to a match for the size of the barbarian army.

Nevertheless, as the enemy approached from the west we began the process of supporting the 6th Legion and indulging in minor skirmishes at the city limits. The barbarians played it smart, knowing that all they needed to do was bide their time and see us drop one by one ... and then the city itself would be theirs for the taking.

We recieved word that a detachment from the 33rd Legion was headed to Corst to help us defend, but it looked like at this rate they would note arrive in time. The 6th Legion was rapidly losing men, and we could not hold out for much longer.

"They must not reach the basilica," said the Magistrate, desperately.

It was clear that one last stand was needed if we were to keep them from doing just that ... perhaps, if we were lucky, we could force them to retreat and at least buy ourselves some time. We set ourselves up to the south-west of the city limits and waited, glancing at each other with the look of men who were ready to meet their ultimate fate. To this day, I have never been so certain of my own impending death as at that moment.

And the rabble charged. Spear met gladius and blood began to spill as the battle got underway. The disciplined Roman legionaries held their ground well, but it was clear that they would soon be overwhelmed. But just at that moment, when all seemed lost, there was a glimmer of armour and launching of pilums from the south. It was Legate Vlad, with a small group of reinforcements from the 18th.

The barbarians found themselves trapped between two determined and bloodthirsty groups of Roman soldiers, and one by one they began to fall. One of them managed to break through the wall of defenders, and without thinking I grabbed hold of the nearest spear and thrust it towards his torso. He dropped, without a sound.

It was all over within minutes. A small group of barbarians had managed to escape with their lives, while the majority had fallen to Roman steel. I looked around at my comrades with an expression of pure amazement that we had survived the ordeal. And what's more, now I could truly call myself a man of war.

I had taken my first life ...

[Gratus]

Chapter VI : "Escalation"

It was a cold evening in southern Caledonia when Vlad called an assembly of the troops on the 18th Campus. I did not know what was to be said, but I feared the worst. A heavy, foreboding atmosphere hung over the Principia as we stood in disciplined formation waiting to hear the words of the Legate.

"Men, we are at a crossroads," he began. "Two couriers have this very week been sent out to Governor Ulpius seeking his guidance on the Vardulli situation. We have had no response. Without his intervention, it is clear that the Vardulli and 17th Legion themselves are not prepared to accept our demands for recompense."

I had heard that Governor Ulpius had not been seen in the region for many months. The lack of proper governance had been apparent even from my first days here, and was surely a large part of the reason that this province had become such a shit-hole. There were many rumours circulating about where Ulpus might be ... but wherever he was, it was clear that Caledonia had effectively been left to govern itself for the interim.

"With the Governor absent, are we to tolerate our own legionaries being assaulted by a third-rate unit?" Vlad raised his voice. "No! Myself and the officers have agreed ... our only option is to teach the Vardulli the error of their ways by a show of force. This night, we will attack the Vardulli camp."

There was a general murmur of agreement amongst the soldiers of the 18th Legion. I stood silent, thinking of my old home and the men I had considered friends.

* * * *

Looking back now, I would say that I was drunk on the passion and intensity that being a part of the 18th brotherhood brought with it. However, I was not so drunk that I would turn my own spear on another Roman, least of all those who had taken me in during my early days in this province. I caught the arm of Legate Vlad as he walked towards the armoury.

"I don't know if I can take any part in this," I told him, cautiously. "These were my people ..."

"I understand," he replied. "We will not force you to go. You can wait here for our safe return."

With that, he turned his back and began to walk away.

This was really going to happen, it seemed. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. Caledonia was, at this moment, on the brink of civil war. The best I could hope for was that it would all be over quickly and decisively ... a long and drawn out campaign would only make the warriors of the 18th more bloodthirsty, and would surely mean greater casualties for the Vardulli.

"Legate Vlad - " I spoke up.

He turned to look at me, and I felt a heavy lump in my throat.

"There is a weak spot. In the Vardulli barricade, to the south-west. Should you attack this day ... an attack from that angle would surely bring a swift victory."

* * * *

The assault on the Vardulli camp did not occur that night.

Poor weather conditions and the revelation that a majority of the Vardulli and its officers were out on manouvers forced the 18th Legion soldiers to reconsider and head back to camp. I was relieved, and hoped that it would also grant Vlad and the other officers to review their position and perhaps try to approach once more from a diplomatic angle.

But word had gotten out that the 18th had planned to attack the Vardulli, and all hell was about to break loose. There were arguments and riots in the Corstopitum forum, with sharp divides forming between those who supported the 17th and 18th Legions in this matter. Vlad and Kinslayer both published pamphlets telling their own sides of the story, which were circulated freely among the general populace and caused even greater unrest.

The civil war was coming, and I could not seem to escape its centre.

[Gratus]

Chapter VII : "Storm"

Progresso et Industria were once considered one of the most powerful Roman groups in Caledonia. With unparalleled political influence, P.I. once held the firmest of grips on the fragile economy of the region. Such was their power and influence that they even had a legion of Rome loyal to them; the 29th.

The leader of this group was a powerful Patrician named Augir Appius, who was known as being among the wealthiest Romans in all Britannia and was also a long-serving Magistrate of Corstopitum. By the time I arrived in Caledonia the power of P.I. had waned, their presence lessened and all that remained was a shadow of their former prominence. But with Augir's own immense wealth and network of personal clients, they could always be a potentially influential force in the region.

I learned that the intense hatred which existed between P.I. and the soldiers of the 18th Legion went back many years. Some of the men told me about how, in the Year 183, they had overthrown Augir from his position as Magistrate and temporarily installed Vlad himself to govern the city. Augir and some of his associates had found themselves temporarily exiled, a great shame to the house of Progresso et Industria.

Augir would not regain this position. Over the following three years, the Office of Magistrate first went to Sabina, who was then suceeded by Flaminius of the Valerii, who had in turn finally been suceeded by Dorotheus, a former Primus Pilus of the 18th Legion.

And now, it seemed, all this history was to come to a devestating climax. With the Civil War now threatening to overflow at any moment, Magistrate Dorotheus took a decisive stand and chose to publicly exile the 17th Legion and its associated units from the city.

* * * *

"I feel bad fighting a man in a dress!" Vercengetorix bellowed.

He swiftly brought his tower shield up in defence as Tozzonius aimed a fierce stab in the direction of his torso. Tozzonius dodged swiftly to one side as the barbarian's swinging weapon narrowly missed his head, before executing a flawless counter-thrust. The crowd cheered.

"This coming from a fellow wearing a skirt," Lysansius smirked, enjoying the display.

The Open Market Day in the town of Erring was a chance for the Romans to forget the recent troubles on either side of the wall, lay down their weapons and enjoy a day of mutual celebration. Aside from the combat and wrestling displays, there were many opportunities for trade and commerce or one could simply sit back and enjoy the general feeling of merriment. It was the first such event I had been to in quite some time, and I enjoyed forgetting for just one evening about the brewing hostilities amongst the Roman factions.

What waited for us when we returned home, none of us were prepared for.

* * * *

"To the citizens of Corstopitum,

On the morning of Day 176, Year 187, the 17th Legion, with the support of the 29th Legion, and the Vardulli Auxilliary, stormed Corstopitum to relieve its citizens of the tyrant reign of the Magistrate Dorotheus ... "

Legate Kinslayer's public notice was there for all to see. The exiled 17th had raised arms, and with the aid of PI's legion and client network had taken control of the town by force. With this line now crossed, there could no doubt that things would only be taken further from this point.

These men were drunk on the rush of considered victory. What troubled me was that the next step would doubtless be a more audacious one.