“The Falling Frontier

  Reports from officials and eye-witness testimonies suggest that the previously quiet wilderness of the Korathan Frontier have seen a resurgence of monster sightings and wildling raids. Citizens are cautioned from visiting the frontier until security forces have contained the situation. Governor Talbert announced a new night watch program to increase patrols within the region and… ”

  - Times of Traxia, Front Page, “Travel Advisory”

  Legate Joachim von Tanberg kept his head held high despite the fighting below him, uncaring of the possiblity of being shot. He surveyed the field with an eagle eyed keenness, observing each and every melee to determine the best course of action for he and his men. With a singular raising of his hand, his adjudant raised two green flags into the air. The right flanks was to advance.

  A roar from the edge of the field signalled that the orders were received. Bugles and war drums joined in the chorus as the heavy infantry of the XXIII Legion finally joined the field. His was a legion hastily formed through a need for more soldiers during a two-front war, comprised of auxiliaries hastily promoted and trained in the Traxian art of war. He himself was a former Carradorian knight, chosen to lead specifically due to both his noble training and combat experience.

  Their objective today was to support the XVII Legion’s efforts to suppress a Lucurian incursion into the Empire’s northeastern periphery. Given that the western front was current in state of uneasy truce, the only way to bloody the XXIII Legion was to have them thrown into the Eastern grinder. That meant his relatively green contingent of soldiers were now thrown head first into playing a key tactical role on the battlefield. Of that, his only concern was their morale. The majority of auxiliaries being those who expected some backline garrison duty instead of active combat.

  While their voluntary nature meant that there was some level of mental fortitude present. Most still seemed to be nothing more than jumped up rabble given the chance to wield Imperial steel. Still, he supposed they were better than the penal battalions that guarded the Empire’s less desirable frontiers. He had heard rumor that the former Falcon Knight of Carrador had been hauled off to the Korathi frontier. True or not, he did not envy anyone taken to such postings. Casting an apathetic glance over the battlefield, he supposed that getting hacked down by a Lucurian sabre would not exactly be an enviable position to be in either.

  There was something to be said for the different tactics nations used due to their own environment. The Lucurians relied heavily on heavily armored calvary attacks to augment their significantly lighter line infantry. In a melee, the winner would be the Traxians, of that he had no doubt. Yet, the truth of the battlefield is that nothing ever stayed static for long.

  A brutish warhorn caught his ear, his head instinctively turning to try and ascertain the source of the sound. It was unlike the precisely tuned Imperial bugles and horns, nor that of the shrill but recognizable Lucurian trumpets. He turned towards his adjudant and motioned towards the sound. The man quickly alerted a few other officers equipped with telescopes.

  “Sir! Over here!” A Traxian praetorian called out.

  Joachim quickly rode over and dismounted. Barely acknowledging the man with a hasty salute.

  “What is it?” He asked.

  “There, past the second wave. Edge of the treeline. Beasts.” The praetorian directed.

  Other nearby officers followed along, the group training their telescopes in the same direction. A soft curse escaped Joachim’s lips at the sight.

  “Maximus!” He summoned his second in command.

  Tribune Maximus sprinted over, ready for orders.

  “My lord?”

  “Have a a squad of runners report back to the headquarters at Melan. Inform them that the Lucurians are now fielding beastfolk forces or that one of the tribes has allied with the Sultanate.” He told the tribune.

  “The beasts? Bastards.” Maximus spat on the ground, “Dirty mongrels get whipped enough and now they’ll willingly slave away for the Sultanate?”

  “No use speculating now, tribune. We can ask them after the battle when we capture prisoners. For now just get the message sent.”

  “Understood. For the empire.”

  “For the empire.”

  The two crossed an arm across the chest and saluted.

  Normally, delivering a message or direct orders did not require a tribune to do so, let alone the legate’s assistant. But he needed to ensure that the report would be received. He knew the Traxian fervently despised just about anything that was not Imperial or imperial adjacent.

  In fact, in his tenure as legate, most of his issues came not from the troop’s lack of training and spirit. Though those certainly were major issues. The majority of them came from the few Traxian squads folded into his legion. Chief amongst them being the large proportion of ethnically Traxian officers taking great umbridge with a Carradorian legate. Maximus was one such instigator, though ironically also one he could trust. After all, the man’s loathing for the foreign practically ensured that he would absolutely take the chance to warn his countrymen that the beastfolk have thrown in their lot with the Lucurians. Others might delay or obfuscate the usefulness of his report in an attempt to damage his credibility, not Maximus. Joachim knew he hated the beasts even more than he hated foreigners. He would get the report sent.

  He set his sights back upon the enemy. The other legion had sent its auxiliaries to try and halt the sudden intrusion. He grimaced at the disappointing sight. They were being too hasty, assuming that the undisciplined beast tribes would hit harder than expected. Now, their auxiliaries, most of whom are far less armed than a legionnaire, will likely pay the price and be overrun anyway.

  One of the other tribunes looked at him, he shook his head. There was no need for adjustments yet.

  The 17th Legion was a veteran formation, staffed mostly by veterans of the Lucurian frontiers and augmented by auxiliaries drawn up from the empire’s poorer mid-rim citizenry. A way to outsource the fodder to those who, in their eyes, contributed little anyways. It was efficient in bolstering the ranks, Joachim admitted. But once again, the problem of quality reared its ugly head once more.

  They were led by Legate Crassius, a stern, almost overly cynical appointee of the Traxian court. Over the past weeks he had seen how they operated, how the constant hostility they faced had molded the 17th into a brutal legion, its leader an apathetic warlord whose goal was to stablise the frontiers. An almost immovable rock to dash the hopes of the swift striking Lucurians. Though granted, Joachim was relatively certain the only reason sultanate forces were able to win hearts and minds was specifically because Crassius was so brutal.

  Noticing a rogue wing of Lucurian calvary fast advancing up the left flank, he quickly signalled to his remaining tribunes. He raised his hand a pointed, the message was clear, reinforce the flank. A series of bugles blew loudly in succession, passing the order down the chain to his peasant soldiers. In this he expected to see some success. Unlike the 17th’s auxiliaries, his rabble was at least equipped with proper gear including their armor. They could withstand most of a calvary charge, though he still held his own calvary in reserve, just in case.

  The enemy tide smashed itself into the poorly formed infantry squares, trampling men and material under their hooves. The lines buckled as legionnaires tried to flee, only to be cut down in the confusion. But the overall formation held. Despite the sacrifices of the initial troops, the rest of his soldiers manage to maintain a relatively cohesive defensive line to deter the cavalry from advancing further. Their pikes and javelins being enough to ward off the enemy, even if they didn’t cause as much casualties as he would’ve liked.

  Seeing the Lucurians momentarily deterred, he breathed a small sigh of relief. He wanted to hold his knights back in case of a critical emergency, and he didn’t want them to be committed too soon. Especially now that the beast tribes were here.

  His attention returned to the 17th’s auxiliary, slaughtered for the most part, as he had expected. Their light infantry was no match for the ferocity of the beastfolk. Centaurs, maujurrin, and wolfkin made up the majority of the irregular force. An indicator that at least several of the more human friendly tribes had allied themselves with the sultanate, a troubling proposition.

  They fail to understood why we are fighting, Joachim mused, they do not realize that the darkness only grows. That we must be the bastion against it, united by alliance or by force.

  Then he saw them, the enemy Marzban, or commander. It wasn’t the leader of the entire Lucurian force here, they were likely situated further back. The commander was more akin to a tribune, but important enough nonetheless. He refocused his attention on them, scanning the clump of officers and men near them.

  He calculated the distance that might need to be covered, the advantage that they might gain. In his mind a new plan plan began forming. Given the current circumstances, that Lucurians would win through attrition. Furthermore, the 17th’s legionnaires were battle-hardened, his were not. They would break and they will break should more pressure be applied. To preserve his men, he needed to seize the moment.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  With a whistle and a gesture, he motioned for tribune Agrania. An almost completely by the books officer, she would be otherwise unremarkable if not for her barely concealed desire for uplifting her own status despite already being a tribune. A gloryseeker who has thrown in her lot with those that would like my removal. A troublesome thorn but a worthwhile tool in instances like this.

  “Legate.” She announced her presence with a half bow.

  “Tribune Agrania. Is the calvary ready for action?” He asked.

  “Of course, my lord.” The tribune grunted half heartedly.

  “Good. The enemy imagines that their new arrivals would break our lines. We will prevent this. Or rather, your unit will, tribune.”

  “My lord?” She perked up.

  Joachim had to hide a small smirk. The thought of glory and playing a pivotal role in the battle. Bringing in a noteworthy deed to her name. So easily motivated.

  “Take this,” He handed her the telescope, “There. By the copse of trees beyond the third hill. The enemy’s marzban. We need to take him out. Prevent him from orgainizing the beastial auxiliaries. For should they combine, a united front will decimate our frontlines, legionnaire or not.” He announced.

  “I see them.” She replied snappily.

  He could see the lust in her eyes, the realization at a chance to make herself known. If the calvary were to succeed, it would be one of the pivotal points of the battle no matter what happened. She was too ambitious to simply stay in line, but thankfully wrapped up in enough honor and tradition that she wouldn’t be bold enough to defy order. Just a little push.

  “I won’t force you, tribune. I know the calvary company is capable but this will be a dangerous manuever. If you don’t think it tactically viable I won’t demand that of you.”

  “No worries, my lord. It will be done.”

  “For Traxia.” He affirmed.

  “For Traxia.” She saluted.

  With nary a glance behind or even a shred of doubt, Agrania set off to rally her men and assign them their new orders. To Joachim, it felt, foolhardy, stupid even. But in a way, he understood her eagerness. They saw him as a lackluster legate not only because he was a foreigner. But that his time spent serving Carrador taught him the importance of having strong bulwarks and defensive postures before advancing in contrast to the aggresive and flexible style of Traxian warfare. They saw him as a slow, plodding leader who wouldn’t press the legion to enter the fray until absolutely necessary, and they weren’t wrong.

  He would prefer if less lives were sacrificed in the name of peace. That there would be more measured posturing to dissuade enemy attacks rather than the throwing of troops to the frontiers. Alas, he knew that it needed more than just sentiments to change the current situation. That both the Traxian emperor and the sultans had to come to an accord before anything would happen. And neither of those scenarios seemed likely to happen, let alone both of them at once.

  He sighed. Now was not the time for those worries. His immediate attention returned to the field at hand. Almost all elements of both sides were crashing into each other. The carefully organized battlelines now all devolving into brutal melees. On the far side, Argrania’s calvary raced towards the enemy commander. The sultanate’s response far slower than Joachim expected. An unexpected surprise.

  Before he could rest on his laurels however, he spotted something odd. The beastfolk had halted their advance after bashing in the auxiliaries. Furthermore, the Lucurians were starting to pull back, at least those who aren’t stuck in the melee. A chill ran down his spine, what are they doing?

  He glanced around him. Beyond him, there were a few scattered praetorians assigned to his safety, the standard for most battlefield commanders. But of his officers, aside from his signifier, the rest of the command staff were currently with their respective units. A vexing conundrum.

  He gestured for the signifier’s attention, summoning the man to his side. He hesitated, continuously scanning the battlefield for any other signs that made him feel uneasy. To his horror, the retreating Lucurian front emboldened the legionary troops on the frontline. The Traxians and auxiliaries slowly breaking formation to give chase to their routing opponent. On the far flank, Agrania’s calvary reached the Marzban’s position, the imperial calvary running over the camp guards. The enemy’s cataphracts and spahis however, offered a more robust challenge, fending off the majority of attacks as they fought to protect their commander.

  The beastfolk line remained still and unmoving, now slowly being bolstered by Lucurian troops and other such soldiers. He watched with a growing horror as they slowly formed an ever bigger wall of bodies and shields. They were reforming, but why?

  He chewed on his lip. If he waited to find out, he suspected he would greatly regret it. He motioned to the signifier to draw closer.

  “Braxon.”

  “Sir.”

  “Sound… the retreat.”

  “Sir?” The man’s voice raised in alarm.

  “The Lucurians have something up their sleeve. I will not have the legions march to their death.” He informed the man.

  “But Legate Crassius and the 17th…”

  “I will deal with him. Blow the horn.” He repeated.

  The man looked away before looking back and saluting.

  “As you command, sir.” The man reluctantly agreed.

  He paused, but Joachim did not force him. He could see it on the man’s face. No one like retreating when things were going well.

  After one last hesitant grunt, the signifier raised his horn to his lips and blew out a rhythm. The retreat was sounded for the XXIII. Joachim winced at the noise. He knew that if his hunch proved wrong, or even if it proved to be right. It was ammunition that could be levied against him. Against the timidity and disappointment that came from operating a foreign legion instead of augmenting existing legions with more auxiliaries.

  Even glancing at the field, he could see the hesitation in his men. Their own bloodlust ignited by their progress in the melee. The 17th of course, continued their brutal fight without caring. An expected but disappointing outcome nonetheless.

  The more reticent commanders and tribunes in his legion heeded the command, the slow withdrawal offering some semblance of acquiescence. On the far side, Agrania’s force had slain the enemy commander, a worthy honor in most cases. Yet today was different, Joachim felt the growing sense that something else was in play, something they had not anticipated yet. At least the calvary commander’s dutiful obedience to following orders meant that the unit was already riding back towards him, despite a few stragglers taking to the chase and ditching the company.

  That meant at least a good two thirds of the legion would be preserved. The last third being the centuries currently engaged in combat or had held off the left flank’s Lucurian attack. Too bruised to let the enemy go without a fight, he had already written them off as casualties on the field of battle.

  His caution paid off when a third battle horn sounded across the battlefield. More rustic, less whole, the notes themselves were shrill and aggravating. To their west, a third force appeared descending on the Traxians at full speed. Joachim let out a dejected sigh, the men caught in the middle would die, the rest who weren’t already fleeing barely able to escape the coming encirclement. All his elements were scattered across the field, even more so for the 17th. There would be no one to stop the coming tide.

  He counted around only about half his troops had made it out of the ensuing encirclement with the majority of them being the calvary contingent. Both Agrania and his main infantry commander looked furious as they arrived, likely believing he had ordered a retreat through no reason at all. Though their anger was quickly quelled with a simple gesture towards where the new army was coming from. Members of the hill tribes that plagued the Traxian frontier finally saw their chance to break free, allying themselves with the sultanate invaders.

  He suspected it was more due to Legate Crassius’s brutal reprisals against the local peoples during his tenure overseeing the frontier. But that was a conversation to be had with other officials and not his officers. For their part, the sight alone seemed to stir some level of understanding. Agrania didn’t even brag about the enemy commander’s head that she had mounted on a pike.

  “Legate.” Tribune Auchellion lowered his head.

  “Tribune.”

  “What is the plan here?” The soldier asked.

  Joachim sighed, “We retreat to Fortress Volcheg, fortify there and send out a messenger to inform high command about the current happenings.”

  “That’s it? We’re just abandoning the rest of our people and our comrades?”

  “Not fully, but yes, we are.” He stated honestly.

  The two tribunes looked to each other, their doubts clear to read on their faces. They were taken aback by the blunt statement, but they did not outright question him. Sensing a chance, he seized it.

  “The troops currently out there are too far from us. They won’t reach us before they are surrounded. Even the men under your command, Auchellion, are barely going to scrape by before the circle is closed. It is only by the graces of the Goddess that you actually heeded my orders, unlike your comrade Triarion. Who will be remembered as a martyr for the empire.”

  “Sir!” Agrania hissed.

  “We do not go home empty handed, thanks to you. For the rest of them, the retreated needed to have started long ago. It is too late now.” He informed them before turning around, “Braxon!”

  The signifier rushed back to his side at once.

  “Sound the retreat again.”

  “Understood, legate!” The man saluted and hurried bellowed on the horn once more.

  Joachim grimaced. He was condemning thousands to their deaths and while his officer’s indignation was justified, he had already made his choice.

  “Auchellion, Agrania, any questions?” He barked.

  The two traded a glance before shaking their heads.

  “No sir.” Agrania responded for them both.

  “Good. Then take up a defensive posture around those hills. We’ll keep the escape route open for as long as we can. But when this horn rings out next, we are leaving. Am I understood?”

  “Yes sir!” The two affirmed.

  So it was that from his perch, Joachim von Tanberg watched a Traxian legion was engulfed by its own folly. The thousands of men being slaughtered on the battlefield as the majority of his contingent simply watched. Only when he had sighted a fresh group of Lucurian calvary in the distance did he motion for the horn to blow again. He refused to let the rearguard be surrounded. Thankfully, despite his earlier dismay, Auchellion followed through and the rearguard hastily retreated to friendly lines.

  He already began preparing for the next challenge in this campaign, how to justify his actions to an outraged imperial court. The frontier has fallen and they’ll be looking for a scapegoat. Tsk, just so happens that I’ll be the only ranking officer left out here, bastards. He thought about his remaining officers, three of whom had little imaginative skills but were competent enough. If they’re the ones that the court turns to for the frontiers, then Goddess help us all.