Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

"And the Iron Cavalry?"

Elheat asked, almost with anticipation.

He had commanded the elite force for months now, and the prospect of a major campaign, especially after being sidelined in the Greecian and Ramie conflicts, clearly thrilled him.

Julius's gaze swept across the room, settling on Elheat.

"The Iron Legions will be split,"

he announced, his voice carrying the weight of command.

"Half will join the main force heading to the Germanic battle lines in Achae. They will serve as our hammer, crushing any resistance and providing crucial support to our Germanic allies whose own invasion has been stunted due to Francian involvement no doubt."

Elheat nodded, a grim satisfaction settling on his face.

He would finally have his chance to unleash the full might of his cavalry showcasing how much they had grown since Julius first unleashed then years ago during the fall of Lunan.

Julius continued, his gaze shifting back to the map.

"The remaining ten thousand, however, will form the tip of our spear. They will be the vanguard of our force, striking ahead of the main army, disrupting enemy formations if they encounter them. Their mission is to establish the defensive line before the main army even arrives, creating a path for our legions to advance with overwhelming force, before striking out to cut a deep gash into the enemy as they settle in to expect us to defend instead coming out to attack them."

Elheat's eyes gleamed.

This was the role the Iron Cavalry was born for: speed, ferocity, and decisive action.

He could already envision his riders, clad in their gleaming armor, thundering across the plains, scattering the enemy like chaff in the wind.

"I want the defensive line established within a week,"

Julius stated, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

"The Francian army must not be given a chance to establish their own lines within Germania, This is not going to be a siege; this will be a war of movement. We will dictate the terms, and we will crush them before they know what hit them."

He looked directly at Elheat.

"Can your men deliver, Commander?"

Elheat rose, his gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"My Iron Cavalry will ride as the wind, Emperor. We will break their lines and leave a trail of ruin in our wake. The Franks will tremble at the very sound of our hooves."

His voice was filled with a confidence born of years of experience and countless victories.

Julius nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I have no doubt, Commander. Let the Franks learn what it means to face the wrath of Romanus."

He turned back to the map, his gaze sweeping across the vast territories that would soon become the battlegrounds of a continent-spanning war.

The die was cast.

The legions were ready.

And the Iron Cavalry, under the command of the grizzled veteran Elheat, was poised to unleash its fury upon the enemies of the Empire.

~

The council chamber settled into a tense silence as Julius tapped the armrest lightly with two fingers bringing forth a tak tak tak sound.

"We know the Francians will respond — but we also know how they fight,"

Julius said, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

"And that, gentlemen and ladies, will be their downfall."

He gestured to the wide field laid out on the war map — miniature banners of red and blue marking projected movements.

"Understand this well: the Franks' power lies not in their cohesion, but in their shock value."

He turned, locking eyes with the assembled commanders: Elheat of the Iron Cavalry, Miri of Logistics, Zeff of Security, even Serena herself, poised and listening intently.

"The enemy will field three primary forces against us,"

Julius continued, sketching three crude lines in charcoal across the northwestern reaches of Germania with one of the pointer sticks.

"First: Their Heavy Cavalry — the famed Chevaliers. Knights in full armour, atop barded destriers. Their tactic is simple: a thunderous, full-force charge meant to break enemy lines in one decisive blow. They operate similarly to our own Iron Cavalry."

He paused, letting the thought settle.

"Our counter?"

Elheat was the first to speak, smiling grimly.

"Hold fast. Anchor with spears and pikes. Bait them into committing, then hammer the flanks with our Iron Cavalry."

Julius nodded approvingly.

"Exactly. We will not meet their charge head-on. Our legion cohorts will present fortified spear walls — while the Iron Cavalry circles wide to strike from behind once their momentum is spent."

He marked arrows flanking the Francian formations.

"They are fierce, but rigid. If their charge falters even slightly, they crumble."

This was a new tactic developed thanks to their campaigns in Greecia, while the legion saw the flaws in the phalanx system when facing infantry, it was undoubtedly still a strong method when facing cavalry, while arming his legions with spears would not increase their carry weight.

~

"Second: Their Infantry,"

Julius continued, tapping another section of the map.

"Massed pikes, halberdiers, levy swordsmen. Braver than peasants, better armed than militia — but not cohesive. Their footmen depend on their knightly commanders for discipline. Sever that link,"

Julius said,

"and the foot breaks."

Zeff leaned in.

"Simple then. Kill their commanders?"

Julius smiled faintly.

"Yes. Strike at the heart. We will target their nobles first, using specialized detachments — the Velites, the Praetorian Hunter Squads. Archers and crossbowmen will pin their lines. But it will be precision, not brute force, that cuts the root."

"And if they entrench?"

Miri asked, practical as ever.

"If they dig in,"

Julius said,

"we isolate them. Burn their supplies. Siege lightly and force surrender. They lack the stomach for a drawn-out campaign."

~

Finally, Julius drew a heavy black circle around a river junction far to the north.

"Third: Their reinforcement route. Already, we know some of their lords have pledged to push deeper into Germania. Their goal is not only to seize territory but to link up with isolated Germanian warbands."

He circled smaller figures near the borders.

"Make no mistake — Germania will be drawn into this war fully if we do not act."

A ripple of discomfort crossed the room.

Germania.

A land of fierce berserkers, warbands, and tribal kings who bent the knee to no crown lightly.

"They will not ally with us out of gratitude,"

Serena murmured, her voice cutting with its usual precision.

"They barely trust each other, and only worked with us previously because we hired them."

"Agreed,"

Julius said.

"But necessity breeds strange partnerships. If we can blunt the Francian advance, if we show the German tribes that Romanus, not Francia, holds the path to freedom — they will choose us, and perhaps we can secure a more suitable alliance than one similar to mercenary hiring nature."

He placed two markers together — a golden eagle for Romanus, a broken axe for Germania.

"And if they don't?"

Zeff asked quietly.

Julius's gaze was like iron.

"Then we conquer as we must, they have weakened themselves from conquest in Greecia, then immediately moving to Achae, if they are weakened further by Francia and choose not to bend the knee, then their fate will be decided."

~

"Now,"

he said, straightening,

"a word of caution."

"The Germanian berserkers — they are unlike anything the Francians expect."

He drew a jagged line across the projected battlefield.

"Francian knights are taught to charge into organized ranks, to break clean lines. Berserkers fight in chaos. They welcome bloodshed. They are fury made flesh."

Serena nodded.

"And that fury will tear through Francian order like a wolf through a flock."

"Exactly,"

Julius said.

"But..."

He turned a warning glance across his generals,

"that same fury can turn on us if we are not disciplined."

He drew a hard, thick line between their forces.

"Our Legions will not fight like the Francians. We do not rely on brute charges. We will hold the lines. Shield walls, rotations, controlled formations."

He tapped the map firmly.

"The Iron Cavalry will not seek glory — they will shatter isolated pockets, not clash head-on with massed berserker units. Skirmishers will bleed them before the heavy line engages."

"And the Velites?"

Elheat asked.

"Flanking. Hunting down stragglers. Disrupting rallies. Our aim is simple: control the battlefield. Not win by numbers. Win by discipline."

~

The council leaned back, absorbing the enormity of the campaign.

Already, messengers were moving, commanders drawing up their muster lists, blacksmiths sharpening blades that would soon sing of war.

Julius allowed them a moment of silence, then said, quieter now:

"One final goal."

All eyes turned to him.

He placed a single small figurine on the board — a crowned figure marked "Empress Yuri."

"This campaign does not end with a battle. It does not end with a treaty. It ends when Yuri stands free — and when the Francian prince who dared touch her kneels before the Empire."

He looked up, brown eyes burning with iron will.

"Prepare yourselves."

He reached for his gladius, drawing it slowly, the steel flashing in the torchlight.

He held the sword high.

"We do not lightly go marching off to war, but for the sake of our empire and the honor held within we must."

He drove the blade into the center of the map, splitting the Francian banners cleanly apart.

"...we do not stop until our enemies are dust."