Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The sun dipped low over the hilltop fortress the Romanus legion had created, casting long shadows across the battlefield below that really only served to create a no-mans land between the attacking and defending sides.

General-King Julius stood on the summit, his armor dulled by weeks of dust, blood and the need to preserve what water they had.

The siege had turned their once-proud rudimentary fortress defences into a ragged shell, its defensive wooden was chipped and its entryways reinforced with hastily nailed planks across a dug out trench forming a drawbridge of sorts.

And yet, the Romanus banner still fluttered defiantly in the wind visible to all for miles around.

Beyond the romanus defences, the Greecian levy army sprawled in a state of disarray within their expansive siege camp.

What had once been a moderately disciplined force of tens of thousands was now a ragged collection of men slumped against their tents, their morale crushed by hunger, disease, and whispers of betrayal.

The first clash weeks ago had been a slaughter—the Romanus defenders, seasoned veterans of countless campaigns, had broken their advance with fire, arrows, and unyielding shields.

And now, General Julius's spies had even been sowing discord in their camp like seeds in a barren field.

As he scanned the enemy battle lines, Julius allowed himself a grim smile.

A cluster of men near the Greecian command tent were arguing loudly.

Fists flew.

The Greecian general, a once-proud leader, stood nearby, shouting to restore order, but his voice carried no authority anymore, with the built up tension coming to a boiling point with no where for them to vent it.

It was only a matter of time before their infighting erupted into chaos across the entire camp.

Behind Julius, the sounds of his own camp were no less desperate.

His men were exhausted—weeks of sleepless nights and ceaseless vigilance had left them hollow-eyed and gaunt.

They held the walls, but just barely.

Supplies were starting to dwindle, and the water was running dry.

Julius knew that relief was their only hope, but he had kept that knowledge close to his chest, unwilling to let even the whisper of desperation infect his ranks.

A scout appeared at his side, panting and dust-covered.

His face was alight with urgency.

"General,"

the scout said, saluting with trembling fingers.

"The relief army has been sighted. They're less than a day's march from here."

Julius's heart leaped, but he kept his expression stoic.

"Their numbers?"

"five legions strong, sir,"

the scout reported, revealing that their reinforcements amounted to around thirty to forty thousands and while still considerably less than the Greecian host, if the greecians knew more fighters of the second legions caliber were coming they were sure to turn tail and run for their homes.

"Germanian and Dacian auxiliaries. Mercenaries, by the look of them, but fierce. Their banners carry the eagle of Romanus."

The men on the hilltop who overheard the news exchanged hopeful glances.

Julius raised a hand to silence them.

"Good. Let them approach under cover of darkness. We'll give the Greecians no warning of their arrival."

He turned to a nearby centurion.

"Double the guard on the eastern wall. Tonight, we'll hit the enemy hard to soften them up for the Auxillaries arrival. Then we'll march in force tomorrow to link up with them, and break this siege for good."

The centurion saluted sharply and hurried off.

Julius allowed himself one deep breath, his first in days.

Relief was coming.

But so was the bloodshed.

That night, the fortress stirred with quiet purpose.

The Romanus legionnaires sharpened their swords more so than they had done out of sheer boredom and polished their shields with bits of scrap cloth, preparing for the inevitable clash.

The air was thick with tension and the scent of oil-soaked torches.

Julius stood in the war room, poring over a crude map of the battlefield, when one of his spies returned from the Greecian camp.

"General,"

the spy began, his cloak damp with sweat.

"Their ranks are crumbling. The food stores are nearly gone, and their general has lost control of his officers. But they still have numbers—if they learn of the auxiliaries, they may rally out of desperation."

Julius nodded.

"Then we keep them in the dark. Let their fear fester until it devours them."

As the hours stretched toward dawn, the first distant rumble of marching boots reached the walls of the hilltop fortress.

Julius climbed the eastern edge and peered into the gloomy haze brought on by the morning fog.

There, emerging from the shadows of the forest, was the Romanus relief army.

The auxiliaries moved like a tide of iron and fur, their torches casting flickering light across their ranks.

The Germanians, towering and broad-shouldered, carried massive axes and round shields painted with snarling beasts.

The Dacians were leaner, their curved falx blades glinting wickedly in the torchlight.

They marched with the discipline of mercenaries who had seen many wars but feared no man, each eager to spill blood and earn valour and honor in battle.

The sight sent a surge of energy through the legionaires on the walls.

A low murmur spread through the ranks, growing into a subdued cheer.

Julius raised a hand to quiet them.

"Hold your joy for the battle,"

he said.

"The Greecians will not make this easy."

At the break of dawn, chaos erupted in the Greecian camp.

The auxiliaries had waited until first light to strike, crashing into the enemy's eastern flank like a thunderclap.

The Germanians led the charge, their war cries echoing across the battlefield as they tore through the Greecian lines with brutal efficiency.

The Dacians followed close behind, their curved blades slicing through shields and spears with terrifying precision.

From the walls of the fortress, Julius watched as the Greecian army dissolved into panic.

officers shouted conflicting orders, and the levy soldiers, already weakened by starvation and fear, broke rank and fled in every direction.

It was a rout even so early in the battle.

"Open the gates!"

Julius commanded, drawing his sword.

"Romanus, to the field! Stength and Honor!"

The gates creaked open, and the legionnaires poured out in perfect formation, their shields locked and their weapons gleaming.

They moved like an unyielding tide, pushing into the disorganized Greecians and cutting them down with ruthless precision as they were caught in a pincer.

Julius led the charge, his voice rising above the din of battle.

"For Romanus! For the eagle! For The Eternal City!"

The battle was over within hours, as the once lively Greecian camp was turned into a sea of blood.

The Greecian camp was in ruins, their army shattered beyond repair as tens of thousands lay slain upon the ground while countless others were being restrained bound to find themselves being sent off back to the mercenaries homelands as Slaves.

Even the Greecian General was captured, dragged before Julius in chains.

The defeated general knelt in the dirt, his once-proud armor battered and bloodied.

"You have lost,"

Julius said coldly, sheathing his sword.

"But your men will live, though not under my rule for they are the spoils of victory, and shall live out their lives in slavery."

The General looked up, his eyes filled with defiance.

But then he glanced at the battlefield around him, at the bodies of his men and the victorious banners of the Romanus legion.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I yield, we accept the fate we have brought upon ourselves." he said hoarsely.

As the sun set over the hilltop fortress, the Romanus banners flew higher than ever.

The auxiliaries celebrated their victory with booming laughter and cups of strong mead, while the legionnaires tended to their wounded and reinforced the fortress walls.

General Julius stood on the summit one final time, watching the horizon.

The siege was over, but he knew the war was far from won.

Still, for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself a rare moment of peace.

The fortress stood strong, and his men stood with it.

Victory was theirs—for now.

But what he didn't know was the new the reinforcements would be bringing with them.