Fallout:Blood and the Bull

Any opinion and comments are welcome

----------------

"Marching through a noble's hunting preserve?" I whispered, a mix of incredulity and mockery in my voice as I observed from our concealed position. "Doesn't this just scream for us to kill them?" The question, directed at the men nearby, elicited a few stifled smiles. They knew as well as I did that the enemy force had made a fatal mistake.

From our vantage point among the trees, we watched carefully. It was a small force, barely an armed detachment from a minor noble who had been taking control of plantations near the hunting forests belonging to our contractor, Count Lucien D'Avranches. Poorly equipped, relaxed, and disorganized, they looked more like a group of armed peasants than a proper army.

"Centurion," I whispered to the man beside me. "Have the decani lead their squads. I want the front blocked while two more groups flank them. Once they're in position, we'll crush them like a bear trap. And remember, no one escapes."

The centurion nodded, silently relaying the orders. The men moved with calculated precision, each decanus leading their squads like cogs in a perfect machine. Tarn, the orc, brought up the rear of one formation, hefting his massive heavy pilum and a reinforced shield that resembled a mobile wall.

The signal came. From the shadows, our front lines unleashed a volley of pila. The projectiles hissed through the air with deadly accuracy, striking the unprepared enemy soldiers. Chaos erupted immediately. One of their leaders was skewered through the neck, his body falling backward as his men cried out in shock. Another tried to raise a makeshift shield but was pinned beneath the weight of a pilum that shattered his defense and impaled his chest.

The enemy soldiers began shouting, trying to regroup, but a second wave of pila struck before they could react. More bodies fell to the ground, pinned like insects on a board. Panic set in, and at that precise moment, I gave the final order.

"Now!" I roared.

My men charged out from the trees, shields raised and spears ready. The impact was brutal. The enemy, still reeling from the ambush, barely had time to lift their weapons. Tarn, ever at the front, rammed his massive shield into a group of soldiers trying to form a defensive line. The first man was flung backward like a ragdoll.

With a roar, Tarn raised his gladius and split the skull of a second soldier with a single strike, blood and fragments of bone splattering the terrified men around him. A third tried to flee, but Tarn closed the distance in a single stride, using his pilum as a club to crush the man's head with a hollow, resounding crack.

The slaughter was merciless. Enemies fell one after another—some to the sharp edges of my men's gladii, others crushed by shields that shattered bones and left them helpless on the ground. The screams of the dying mingled with the clang of steel and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the earth.

One of the last men standing tried to face Tarn, holding up an improvised spear with trembling hands. Tarn simply growled and advanced, ignoring the feeble attempt. With inhuman strength, he grabbed the man by the neck, lifted him off the ground, and hurled him against a nearby tree. The body crumpled unnaturally before falling lifeless to the forest floor.

When it was over, the clearing was littered with corpses and the dying. The forest, tranquil just minutes before, was now stained with blood and echoed with the final gasps of the defeated.

"Clean the area," I ordered, surveying the scene. "Collect any useful weapons and make sure no wounded survive. Prisoners will be those fit to work as slaves. The rest… aren't worth the effort."

Tarn, drenched in blood and breathing heavily, turned to me with a look of satisfaction mixed with controlled fury. "Easy," he growled, wiping the blade of his gladius on a corpse's cloak.

"As easy as it should be," I replied calmly, watching as my men efficiently finished the task. We had sent a clear message.

Skirmishes began spreading across multiple zones of enemy territory. Following my orders, each centurion primus pilus had the freedom to move as they saw fit, so long as their attacks didn't involve reckless risks. The strategy was simple but effective: relentless and lethal pressure on our contractor's enemies, denying them any chance to regroup or take the initiative.

Ambushes became our primary weapon. From forests and hills, our troops struck enemy caravans and detachments with devastating precision. Tight shield formations and javelins hurled from above ensured no enemy had time to react. The bodies of the fallen were left scattered as warnings, while our men withdrew before reinforcements could arrive.

In open fields, battles were swift and decisive. My cohorts, drilled in discipline and maneuvers, demonstrated overwhelming superiority against the disorganized forces of the lesser nobles. Enemy lines, often composed of hastily armed peasants and soldiers, crumbled under the charge of our tight formations. The advance of our shields and spears shattered any attempts at resistance, and the speed of our victories made it clear that opposing us was a fatal mistake.

Even our equites, the light cavalry we had assembled, entered the fray. Though not yet a large force, their training and tactics made them effective against the nobles' cavalry. Using harassment techniques, they launched javelins from a distance to disorganize enemy riders before closing in for direct combat. On several occasions, they ambushed larger cavalry detachments, using terrain to their advantage and neutralizing any perceived edge the nobles thought they had.

One battle stood out in particular: a clash between our cavalry and a well-armed detachment of noble riders. The fight was brutal. As the enemy riders charged, our equites feigned a retreat into the forest, luring them into a carefully laid trap. Once the nobles were in position, Tarn, leading a group of heavy infantry, emerged from the shadows with a thunderous roar.

The impact was devastating. While the equites harried the flanks, Tarn and his group closed the path, smashing shields and bodies with a force that left no room for survival. The enemy cavalry was reduced to a heap of corpses and riderless horses, their charge crushed by the combined tactics of mobility and brute strength.

In a week of relentless combat, we had forced the local forces onto the defensive. Each small victory eroded their ability to respond, compelling them to retreat and cede territory. Plantation after plantation fell back under our control, but what we found upon arrival revealed the true nature of the nobles supporting our enemy.

Anything of value had already been looted or relocated. The granaries were empty, the storage rooms stripped of grain and tools, and the main plantation houses reduced to deliberate ruins. The only thing left behind were the slaves.

They remained there, hunched under the weight of their wretched existence, their bodies marked by the toll of years of toil and constant punishment. Many had backs covered in whip scars, their faces void of hope. They had been abandoned because, to their masters, they were no longer useful: their spirits had been broken to work obediently in the vineyards and fields, but their worth as property had long since vanished.

"Commander, you need to see this," said one of the frumentarii, holding up a half-burned letter.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"That we were going to attack," he replied grimly.

"Well, shit. We've got a traitor on the count's side," I muttered.

The frumentarii stood silently, watching my reaction as if gauging my thoughts was as important as delivering the news. The letter, its edges singed, was written in an elegant but hurried hand—a strange blend of care and urgency. Though incomplete, it was enough to confirm the worst: someone had informed the enemy of our movements.

"This doesn't make sense," I murmured, letting the letter fall onto the table in my tent. "My men are loyal. None of them would dare betray our cause, not even out of fear. Besides..." I gestured to the polished, precise handwriting. "Most of our troops can't even read, let alone write. If one in a hundred knows how, I'd call it a miracle. This came from outside—someone close to the count, you're saying?"

The frumentarii nodded, leaning slightly forward. "That's the most likely explanation, Commander. Someone with access to his private meetings but ambitious enough to sell information to the highest bidder."

"Do you have suspects?" I asked, clenching my fists.

"No names yet, but there are signs. We've intercepted rumors. There's a noble among the count's advisors who seems to be living well beyond his means—lavish banquets, newly acquired lands in the past few weeks. Everything suggests he's being funded by outside forces. But I'll need time to confirm it."

"Time is what we don't have," I replied, jaw tightening. "If this traitor keeps acting, our troops will be walking into a trap."

Without delay, I rode to Count Lucien's castle, the weight of betrayal burning in my mind. The half-burned letter was enough to confirm that someone close to the count was working against us. I knew I couldn't reveal the situation to him outright; I needed a plausible excuse—something to divert suspicion.

When I arrived at the castle, I dismounted quickly. The guards recognized me immediately and allowed me to pass without objection. Lucien was in the main hall, surrounded by his advisors, who spoke in hushed tones around a table covered with maps and scrolls.

"Konrad," Lucien said, looking up as I entered. "What brings you here? I didn't expect to see you at this hour."

I gave a respectful bow and adopted a solemn tone, making sure everyone could hear me. "My lord, while inspecting one of the recently reclaimed plantations, we came across something I believe to be of importance—a testament, apparently belonging to your late father. It contains sensitive details, and I'd prefer to discuss it in private."

The hall fell silent for a moment. The advisors exchanged glances, some intrigued, others visibly tense. Lucien frowned, clearly puzzled. "A testament from my father? What would it be doing on a plantation? Very well. Advisors, leave us for a moment."

There were murmurs, but none dared challenge the count. One by one, they filed out of the room. When the last door closed, Lucien turned to me, his expression a mixture of expectation and concern.

"Well, Konrad," he said firmly. "What is this about my father's testament? Show it to me."

I took a deep breath and stepped closer. Carefully, I pulled out the burned letter and laid it on the table before him. "My lord, there is no testament. But I needed your attention without alerting your advisors. This is what we found—a half-burned letter containing information about our movements. Details that only someone in your inner circle could know."

Lucien leaned forward, reading the still-legible portions of the letter. His expression hardened as he grasped the implications. "Are you saying that...?"

"Yes, my lord," I interrupted. "There's a traitor in your circle—someone feeding information to the enemy. And it's not my men. This level of detail doesn't come from simple soldiers. Most of them can't even read or write. This points to someone educated, of high rank, and with direct access to your private meetings."

The count's face darkened, and he exhaled sharply. "This is... unacceptable. Do you have a suspect?"

"For now, only leads," I replied. "But there are rumors of a noble making suspicious moves—acquiring wealth recently and living beyond his means. If you allow me, I can investigate discreetly to uncover the traitor."

Lucien nodded slowly, though his jaw remained tight. "Do it. But do it quickly. And keep this quiet."

He raised his eyes to meet mine, his gaze piercing. "What kind of message, Konrad?"

"One that reminds everyone that betrayal will not be tolerated, my lord. Sometimes words aren't enough. A decisive action can speak louder than any speech. But that decision must come from you."

The count remained silent, contemplating my words. He knew I wasn't suggesting a light action. It wasn't enough to expose the culprit; once revealed, the punishment had to be exemplary—a warning to anyone else considering a similar betrayal.

"Do you have a plan?" he finally asked, his voice more controlled.

"First, we must identify the traitor without room for doubt," I replied. "If we act too soon, he could escape—or worse, turn this into a political scandal. Second, once we have him, his punishment must be public but justifiable—a demonstration of your firmness and fairness. It will make the rest of your advisors think twice before moving against you."

Lucien nodded slowly, understanding the strategy. "Do what needs to be done, Konrad."

----------------

Any opinion and comments are welcome