Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The mud had barely dried from winter's thaw when the banners of Romanus moved again, this time not in straight lines of conquest, but in arcs — precise, deliberate, and dangerously quiet.

Joan's maneuver had been predictable, even noble in its defiance.

She intended to strike the artery of the Empire's incursion, the corridor, cut the lifeline of La Morienne, and sever Julius from his momentum.

But Julius had no intention of letting her swing first.

Instead, he stepped back.

And in stepping back, he set the bait.

~

Romanus Forward Command – La Morienne Ridge

"They're committing to the pass,"

Sabellus confirmed, his finger drawing a rough arrow across the eastern side of the war map.

"Their scouts believe we've weakened the southern garrison in favor of pushing westward. They're trying to flank us."

"They're trying,"

Julius murmured. He leaned forward, studying the placement of the XIV Legion near the base of the Tevrine Hills.

"But she's moving like I would. She's assuming I've grown impatient."

"Has she taken the bait?"

Julius gave the faintest smile.

"She thinks she's outmaneuvered me. But all she's done is commit her forces to a spear thrust through fog. And I hold the torch."

He gestured to the other markers.

The 13th and 17th Legions — both veteran, both reinforced and fresh from the journey — had not moved to support the La Morienne front.

They had instead advanced silently west and north, spreading into the now-vacated countryside in a wide arc behind Joan's position.

"It's not a hammer we use,"

Julius said, turning to Sabellus.

"It's a bowl. And now we just need to let her fall into it."

~

Northwest of Joan's Vanguard – Saint Olyne Forest

The pines were thick with spring bloom, the undergrowth barely disturbed.

But hidden in the roots and stones lay the passage of thousands.

Romanus had moved fast.

Too fast for rumors to catch up.

The two reinforcing legions hadn't even lit cookfires. No signal flares.

No horns.

They moved like ghosts in a long crescent, and the few villages they passed were silenced — not with death, but with oaths of silence and the promise of grain.

Julius's orders were clear:

No blood unless seen.

No fires unless forced.

And most importantly — leave nothing to suggest the army had passed through.

The encirclement grew with every step.

Joan believed Julius was focusing on her, planning to meet her head-on.

But Julius had built the corridor like this for a reason.

He was not meeting her.

He was surrounding her.

~

Saint Joan's Encampment – Southern Tevrine Pass

"Enemy movement's slowed,"

reported Captain Morn, breathless from the descent.

Joan turned from her map table.

"Which front?"

"All of them."

He laid out the scout's crude sketch — Romanus legions shown as black dots, pulled inward toward La Morienne and eastward along the old border.

"They're pulling back. No engagements reported along the south since yesterday."

One of the lieutenants narrowed his eyes.

"They're stalling. Reorganizing."

"No,"

Joan said quietly.

"They're doing something worse."

Morn glanced up.

"They're inviting us."

~

She didn't say it, but the thought curdled in her gut.

He's trying to draw me in.

The lack of resistance, the open path into the corridor, the unmoving banners in the east — it all smelled too sweet.

Like overripe fruit.

But she couldn't stop now.

The people needed victory.

And her men… her men had earned a battlefield.

They had trained.

Bled.

Buried their friends.

Learned the rhythm of war.

To deny them their chance to strike back now would be betrayal.

Still, she modified the orders.

"Split the vanguard. Move twenty thousand east with the heavy carts. Keep the remaining force to the hills. We're no longer pressing a straight advance — we're fanning out."

"And if the corridor really is open?"

Joan looked west, to where the sun melted low between forested hills.

"We take it. But not all at once. I'll lead the second wave myself."

~

Two Days Later – The Trap Begins to Close

At first, the silence of the open fields felt like grace.

The Romanus outposts had been abandoned.

Barricades broken from the inside.

Supply routes cut without a sound.

It was almost as if the corridor had never existed at all.

Joan's forward force surged forward, emboldened.

They crossed the shattered border of La Morienne's secondary defense line and pressed into the valley proper.

And that's when the roads disappeared.

The southern passes, so long frozen, had turned to marsh.

Carts bogged.

Scouts vanished.

The gentle plains turned suddenly sharp, flanked by ridges — old, nameless, forgotten by time.

And then, from every direction… horns.

Low.

Measured.

Controlled.

Romanus warhorns.

Not in retreat.

Not in defense.

But in arrival.

~

Western Edge – XIV Legion Spearhead

The 14th Legion broke cover first — descending from the ridgelines like wolves.

They didn't charge.

They flowed.

Four cohorts wide, shields raised, boots striking in time with the marching drums of their signal unit.

Joan's vanguard turned to meet them.

The clash was instant — and catastrophic.

The militia, too tightly packed from their advance, had no space to maneuver.

Spears found gaps in armor.

Flaming jars hurled from torsion baskets exploded into their second line.

And in the distance, more horns answered.

Joan's force was surrounded.

~

Romanus Command – Elevated Watchpoint, Tevrine Ridge

Julius stood beneath a broken arch, arms crossed, his cloak motionless despite the wind.

Below him, the bowl was complete.

Joan's forces had advanced too far.

Their rear cut off.

The corridor behind them no longer passable.

Sabellus stepped up beside him.

"She knows now."

Julius didn't respond.

He simply watched.

"She has two choices,"

Sabellus said.

"Engage us here, on your terms. Or pull back and save what she can."

Julius murmured, almost to himself.

"She'll fight."

"You sure?"

"No,"

Julius said.

"But I hope she does."

Sabellus gave him a long glance.

"You want her to break through."

"I want to see what she'll do when she realizes I'm not fighting to win."

Julius turned to him.

"I'm fighting to understand."

~

Elsewhere – The Root's Whisper

A horse galloped over dead grass, hooves kicking up black dust.

The messenger dismounted in silence, saluting with the twin-fingered gesture of the Root.

He handed the sealed scroll to Sabellus, who unrolled it at Julius's order.

His eyes moved quickly.

Then widened.

"A second Francian army has left the royal capital."

Julius looked over.

"Joan?"

"No… not her. The King ordered it."

Sabellus turned the scroll.

"Prince Amaury commands it."

Julius's eyes narrowed.

"And where is he heading?"

"Northwest."

"Not to reinforce the corridor?"

Sabellus shook his head.

"To confront the Brittanians. They've made landfall on the northern shore."

A pause.

Then Julius chuckled softly.

"Francia bleeds on every side."

He stepped forward, looking out across the growing battle.

"And still, they choose division."

His eyes burned with something unreadable.

"She may be their only chance."

~

The Encircled Army — Joan's Decision

Smoke had begun to rise from the west.

Columns of Romanus infantry tightened around the northern ridgeline.

The trap was nearly complete.

And in the center, among her captains and couriers, Saint Joan looked up toward the burning sky.

She held her blade in hand.

It glowed again.

Blue.

And warm.

As if urging her forward.

But her heart was still.

Her thoughts calm.

It was no longer about ambition.

Or defense.

It was about sacrifice.

She turned to her captains.

"If we commit, we fight them with everything. We don't save the flank. We don't withdraw. We strike."

"And if we die?"

Joan closed her eyes.

"Then we die so the rest may rise."

Thunk*

Only her declaration was opposed by her own men.

Even as she was about to be the first to race out and join the frontline fighting against the romanus legions, she instead received a blow to the back of the head.

Causing her to fall unconcious.

Before being carted away by a small squad of her men, the rest formed up and fought fervently as if she was still there commanding them.

The battle ended in Romanus's victory however even with that Julius was dismayed to know the enemy commander had slipped away unable to be caught by the net they'd cast.

Even then of the fifty thousand she'd brought into the region, Romanus only managed to take a third of them into the afterlife, with the rest managing to slip away and retreat to fight another day.