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TtOW! - 12.1 Interlude: Just Another Day in the Provinces
🕑 Added 2022-11-05 02:42:56 +0000 UTCCanus Sittius Dio groaned. He shivered as something wet and cold landed on his face for only the fiftieth time tonight. He turned over to the other side of his cot, only for a second drop to land on his face. He cursed and leaned out of bed. Looks like his armor would be warmer than his bed today, so he went ahead and got himself dressed. He swore once more as he saw the puddles pooling on the stone floors. Blasted roof hadn’t been repaired in a decade.
And likely never would. Why would it? Hardly anyone stayed out here, anyways. Most of Canus’s men spent their time on their farms. Canus himself hadn’t been on campaign in quite some time, and lived out on his estate in the countryside. Under normal circumstances, the only thing separating the old legionary from any other folk was the torn banner hanging over his fireplace and the set of worn, though well-maintained armor in his bedroom.
These were not normal circumstances.
Canus finished strapping his sword on his waist. He took a deep breath and opened his door, making his way into the drafty hallway.
“Dux.”
His soldiers knocked their right fists against their chests as he passed them by. He nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way to a staircase. He grunted as he made his way up.
One would think a lifetime of levels and a generous allotment to endurance perks might help one’s knees. But of course, that would be too convenient.
To be fair, one could stave off the ravages of time with perk purchases. But purchasing perks with the same effects only ever increased in cost, and experience earned only ever dropped as levels increased. At some point, a man could end up spending all the extra years he gained hunting down a hundred creatures for each level, thousands before he could afford the next perk.
Canus had seen men and women like that, so desperate to delay their end that they forgot to enjoy their lives, spending all of their time just trying to earn some more. He had decided enough was enough for himself. He would take the time his deeds had earned and make the most of it.
To be fair, being half-elven didn’t hurt. He would admit he couldn't expect the average human to sympathize with his views when he was guaranteed over three times their lifespan at birth.
But whatever the case, he had chosen to abscond to the frontier province of Turannia, where he had hoped to live out a quiet life with his family and with the land.
But then the local Dux had gotten himself killed. A young officer fresh out of the academy who thought he was commanding the legions of Velus himself instead of a bunch of glorified farmers. Canus didn’t have to wonder how the man earned himself a post all the way out in Turannia.
And, of course, the Empire hadn’t gotten around to sending a replacement.
So when the united host of Madadh-allaidh came through the now empty border, the provincial governor had practically begged Canus to return to duty.
And unfortunately, he could not refuse. Hard to live a quiet retirement when the latest wulver chieftain is burning down the next door neighbors. Especially when more than one of said neighbors were Canus’s own descendents.
And once he had the office…well, Canus couldn’t bring himself to abandon his troops. He saw the officers coming out of the capital these days. And while all old soldiers complain about the fresh commanders, Canus had lived long enough to say with certainty this latest crop was the worst he had ever seen.
No, the old half-elf was perhaps the best chance for any of the troops in this province to survive the decade.
Assuming they survived the day that is.
Canus made his way to the top of the ramparts. He stood on the top of a large stone fort at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea, built with exacting precision to Imperial standard. Imperial Standard two centuries ago, that is. At this point, cracks and moss covered the walls. The Imperial banners were torn and ripped, barely hanging onto the walls. The protective wards hadn’t been refreshed in over a decade, and he was pretty sure the ballistae would explode if fired.
And worst of all, the roof leaked like you wouldn’t believe, and it was raining.
Canus shook his head and made his way up to the watchtower. A single woman stood at the top. She had a cloak made from the pelt of a sea lion on her shoulders, the creature’s head covering her smooth red hair. Slightly pointed ears stuck out from underneath, twitching as the rain pelted the stone. Underneath her cloak she wore her traditional hunter’s garb, but with the medallion of an Imperial Exploratores on her shoulder. Her slightly webbed hands wrapped around a harpoon made of bone. She didn’t react as Canus walked up beside her, her eyes locked on the rocky coastline below.
Oh, and the fleet of ships landing along the beach.
She gave him a slight nod as he joined her.
“Dux.”
“Miallói”
The Selkie Exploratores was a woman of few words. Didn’t exactly stick to protocol but Canus didn’t exactly want this job, so he didn’t exactly care.
She got the job done and kept her mouth shut. As far as Canus was concerned, she was a model soldier. He was more than happy to let her act as she pleased.
It also didn’t hurt that she was the deadliest Imperial soldier in the province.
“How are we looking?”
She shrugged.
“We’ll live.”
Canus sighed and pointed down at the fortress below.
“And them?”
She shrugged again.
“If we have help.”
Canus heaved a sigh. He knew that officially it wasn’t the worst year on record but he couldn’t help but feel that these incursions were increasingly frequent. Just his luck.
And he knew the opponents they now faced. The Dobhar had long battled with the Selkie for control of these lands and the waters around. And now they battled the Empire too, ever since it laid claim to this place.
They were ferocious and tough, their kings were said to be invincible to harm. They were not, but they may as well be for his soldiers below. They might be brave, but the limitanei had long ceased to be legionaries in all but name. They no longer had the perfect training and teamwork of the legions, spending more time and perks on farming than fighting. Heck, ever since the Empire started paying them in land instead of cash, they had to supply their own equipment too. Homemade spears replaced enchanted blades, leather and cloth instead of metal scale.
They were no longer expected to win, only to hold the enemy at the gates long enough for the comitatenses to arrive.
So all Canus could do here…was hope the comitatenses were indeed on the way.
He heaved another sigh.
Barbarians at the gates. Bandits in the hills. And the local mages were reporting some serious readings from the Beithigh Forest beyond the boundaries of the province. The Exploratores were saying someone or something had picked a fight with the Tyrant of the Beasts. Bit of a dramatic name for an Ursanus Alpha, but an accurate one for a farmer with a stick.
What he wouldn’t give for a single century of his old command. He could have this province cleaned up in a month.
Instead, he would now have to stretch his experience to the limit if he wanted most of these boys and girls to survive to lunch.
He turned to exit the tower when a gust of wind blew past him, angling the rain such that it flew under the tower’s roof, drenching his face and cloak.
Canus swore.
And of course, it had to be raining today.
Author’s Note:
Hey look it's another chapter! Yay Friday!
So y’all know what the setting’s going to be or was it a bit too subtle? I considered coming up with my own name for limitanei/comitatenses but let’s be real, how many of y’all recognize those names? And how many of you who did didn’t recognize it specifically from Total War or other historical strategy games? Which is the only reason I myself learned of them hahaha.
Anyways!
Can Canus hold the line until reinforcements arrive? Will he ever be able to retire in peace? And just what could have picked a fight with the Tyrant of the Beasts? Tune in next time, to find out!
