Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The northern winds carried the scent of rain and blood as Julius' legions stood poised along the final ridges overlooking the Ramie capital, Almorr.

What had once been a bustling heart of trade and culture of their nation now lay under a dark cloud of dread, the once-proud banners of Ramie hanging limp from weathered towers.

The countryside surrounding the city—farms, villages, and smaller forts—had already been taken, piece by piece, as the Romanus hammer descended from the north.

Smoke curled from isolated farmsteads, signaling both victory and cleansing.

Every village and estate the Legions secured had been brought under control with precision.

Former Ramie tax collectors, slavers and nobles were either executed or sent in chains to Carthage.

Romanus order replaced Ramie corruption.

The northern campaign had been a textbook march of conquest, but it was the discipline of Julius' forces that shocked even the conquered.

There were no random burnings, no senseless looting.

Taxes were collected, but fairly, and grain stockpiles were carefully accounted for.

The message was clear: Romanus was here to stay.

The march had not been without blood.

Along the way, scattered Ramie loyalist forces had attempted to delay the advance.

Small garrisons dug into forts, raiding parties attempted to ambush supply caravans, and the occasional local militia tried to raise a ragged defense.

None of it slowed the inevitable advance.

For every Ramie ambush, the Shadow operatives had already intercepted their messengers and cut their own supply lines.

For every loyalist garrison that held a village hostage threatening to kill the villagers and blame their deaths on the advancing invaders, Romanus infiltrators had turned the villagers against them with promises of security and fair treatment under Julius' banner causing the hostages to revolt against the real aggressors.

The countryside of the north belonged to Romanus.

~

On the evening of the fifth day, Commander Berta stood on a ridge overlooking Almorr's northern gate, her cloak whipping in the cold wind.

By her side stood General Elheat, fresh from overseeing the rearguard and ensuring the supply lines from Parthia were clear.

Together, they studied the Ramie capital below—a sprawl of ancient towers, high stone walls, and narrow alleys brimming with refugees.

"Look at them,"

Bente said, his arms crossed.

"They packed the whole damn countryside inside those walls."

Berta grunted.

"Starvation will do our work for us, before we even commit to a proper invasion."

The countryside had been stripped clean of crops, livestock, and even water sources as the Ramie forces rapidly retreated.

Every well outside the capital was either poisoned or commandeered for Romanus use after they dug them back out restoring the water for the surrounding village, and while food had been stolen and stockpiled in the capital Romanus's march was to fast for them to take it all, resulting in the marching legions having the ability to purchase grains from the villagers all while ensuring they would be their dues once the 'bandits' who'd robbed them had been dealt with.

It had been a deliberate tactic—a tightening noose to cut the capital off from everything it needed to hold out, cutoff from their resources they would have to rely on the south even more.

However the northern Legions were not the only threat.

From the south, a second column—composed largely of veteran Parthian auxiliary forces—had crossed into Ramie territory, sweeping across the plains.

These men, hardened from warfare and drilled into discipline under Romanus standards, had proven remarkably effective in their engagements with the Ramie garrison forces in the Kingdom of Carthage, and seeing the liberation army grow quite sizeable they broke off, and marched for conquest in southern Ramie.

Their siege tactics—cutting off water, disrupting supply chains, and ambushing fleeing nobles—were being employed to devastating effect just like their brothers in the north.

To the east, a contingent of cavalry and scouts, bolstered by former Ramie defectors, patrolled the foothills to prevent any messengers or couriers from fleeing the city and fleeing abroad.

The capital was completely isolated.

~

Inside Almorr

King Aled paced the length of his throne room, his once-ornate crown crooked on his brow, his once-gleaming robes stained with sweat.

The grand chamber—once the seat of Ramie pride—had become a war council, filled not with wise advisors, but with frightened nobles and bickering generals.

"Where is our relief force?"

Aled demanded, voice cracking.

One of his aging commanders, Lord Ferros, wiped his brow with a trembling hand.

"There… there is no relief force, Your Majesty. The southern armies have either fled or surrendered to Queen Serena. The northern nobles surrendered when the Romanus banners arrived, as it stands now we are on our own."

Aled's fist struck the arm of his throne.

"Then we will hold the city until our allies come!"

Silence followed.

There were no allies of course they did not know this, envoys had been sent out but they never got the chance to leave the boundaries of Ramie Kingdom.

They were isolated in their little corner of the world, and the only possible ally they could rely on would be the Principality of Christendom, however they were hard at work securing their claims over the fallen Carthaginian kingdom, while envoys were rushing out to ensure the reclaimed kingdom, and it's allies did not retaliate against the Principality for it's own actions during the war that came before.

No help was coming.

~

By the seventh day, the noose around Almorr was as tight as it would get.

Romanus siege engines had been assembled under cover of night, their wooden forms looming just beyond bowshot range.

These weren't just battering rams and catapults; these were innovations born from Elheat's war games (at least that is what they believed, instead they were investments unlocked by Julius via his system)—ballistae with siege bolts the size of tree trunks, siege towers reinforced with iron, and even a prototype counter-siege artillery designed to dismantle defensive engines on the walls before they could fire a single shot.

The northern siege force numbered close to 40,000 strong, with detachments from the original Romanus veterans who had fought alongside Julius since the early Grecian campaigns who were newly returned from the greecian theater ahead of the primary legions heading straight for Ramie instead of home like the others.

But they were not alone.

From the south, Serena's forces had crossed into Carthaginian territory, fully reclaiming her ancestral lands and the Romanus portions had turned north to rejoin their own forces in the final conquest.

Her southern army, swollen to nearly 65,000 strong, moved with a purpose that could only come from reclaiming their lost homeland, while discussion on the reformed court raised questions about whether to continue the war to reclaim the lost lands still occupied by the Principality or if they would negotiate for their return with Romanus being their backer and mediator during the negotiations.

After all after weeks of fighting they were no longer rebels.

They were an army, and one that needed to abide by the rules of the state, if any rogue elements popped up, Serena would quickly stamp them out lest Romanus need to descend upon the lands to quell possible insurrections by her own people, polar opposite to her own desires.

And with Romanus banners at their side, Serena's rebels became the southern anvil catching the Ramie kingdom on both sides.

The capital stood between two unstoppable forces.

~

As dawn broke on the eighth day, the drums of war echoed across Almorr's walls.

Berta's voice rang clear above the gathering forces.

"This is your final chance, citizens of Almorr! Open the gates and surrender, and you will be shown mercy under Romanus law! Resist, and we will grant you the fate your king has earned!"

Her words echoed, but no reply came.

Behind her, the Legion stood ready, a sea of shields and spears.

Serena's banner, fluttering beside Romanus' own, had been raised at the southern end of the battlefield, the partian forces already fanning out into siege positions of their own.

For the first time in centuries, the armies of two nations—Parthia reborn and Romanus ascendant—stood side by side, not in battle with each other, but united against a common foe.

The city of Almorr was doomed.

The only question that remained was how much blood it would cost before the Ramie crown fell.

As the first flaming projectile arced through the sky, crashing into Almorr's outer wall, Berta raised her sword.

"Let the siege begin."

The horns of Romanus howled.

The storm had come.

And it would not pass until Almorr lay at Julius' feet.

The hammer of the north.

The flame of the south.

The Ramie kingdom had nowhere left to run.