Kotys shot him a grim look of doubt, then turned back to his sketches.
"The battles yesterday took a heavy toll on the rebels. They now number about a hundred, more or less. The garrison fort sits at a strategic point—cradled between a rocky ravine and a fast-running river, which they cleverly diverted back into the ravine before we arrived."
His dagger sliced deftly through the dirt, carving the terrain with measured precision.
Rainer pointed toward the gate.
"That means a frontal assault's the only option."
"With the equipment we have, yes." Kotys nodded.
"Hence my focus on this single wall."
*Thud! Thud!*
Two horsemen rode up suddenly, kicking dust as they came to a halt before them.
"Daem—Stranger!" barked the first, voice forceful yet laced with unease. "We've been ordered to escort you to the front!"
The second dismounted and tossed a leather vest at Rainer's feet with thinly veiled disdain.
"Mercenary armor, courtesy of Lord Praefect," he said, before turning a sharp glare on Kotys.
"Pedite, return to your century!"
Kotys merely inclined his head, stood, and crossed to a nearby boulder where a spear and round shield rested.
He brought them back to Rainer, who took them with a quiet intrigue—though he caught the slight tightening of the horsemen's grips on their weapons.
Rainer twirled the spear, testing its balance, then grinned.
"Nice pick, Kotys! Just as requested!"
Before Kotys could respond, however, the spear slipped from Rainer's hand and clattered to the ground.
The horsemen exchanged a glance—and burst into laughter.
"Son of Mars?! If Mars were an abusive drunkard!"
"Hah! Aye! I recall a staggering fool called Mars stumbled through my village once. Perhaps this is his lost whelp!"
They burst into laughter once more.
Rainer's brow furrowed, and he clenched his fist, shaking it at them.
"At least I had a father, bastards!"
Their laughter only grew louder, and Rainer barked back; their argument devolved into insults and jeers that echoed across the open field.
Kotys watched in silence, head shaking faintly. Without a word, he picked up his arms and turned to leave.
"Kotys!"
Rainer called, and he paused, glancing back.
"Be glad—you just won the lottery!"
Kotys frowned. "The…lottery?"
Rainer flashed a wide grin.
"My friendship!"
Kotys blinked, unimpressed but nodded.
"…Hn. Farewell."
He turned again, leaving those words behind.
Rainer sighed contentedly and crouched to pick up the armor. Sliding it on over his tunic, he rolled his shoulders to test the fit.
"The old man couldn't offer better armor? So stingy," he muttered, hanging the shield across his back and gripping his spear once more.
*Buoooo!!!*
A horn's deep cry tore through the morning air, trembling across the plain and filling it with nervous energy.
Rainer's lips curved into a smirk at the atmosphere.
'This brings back memories…though why does this remind me of high school. Ha! Like the morning before an exam you didn't study for.'
He inhaled deeply, the dry air filling his chest as he turned meditative.
'...There comes a time when all things must prove themselves true before the Highest heavens.'
When he opened his eyes again, they were focused.
'Time to put in a good shift.'
–✺–
The air thickened with tension.
Columns of soldiers advanced, their formation rippling like a steel tide. Dust rose around them, choking the wind.
Ahead loomed the rebel fort—stone wall braced deep in the earth livened by the activity of defending rebels along the parapets.
Auxiliary Persian archers darted forward behind strategically placed palisades, placed against the fort; the shouts of officers split the air behind them.
*Cluk! Cluk! Cluk!*
The battering ram creaked forward, its iron head glinting as archers pressed beneath wooden cover, loosing counterfire from behind cover.
*Buooo!*
The horn called again, and formations shifted—testudo, shells of interlocked shield columns began their steady crawl toward the storm of arrows raining down from the wall.
Behind them, astride a magnificent black stallion, Praefect Alexios observed in silence. His muscle cuirass gleamed in the rising light, his face calm and severe.
Two senior officers flanked him, their armor polished, yet the rigour of prior battles remained evident.
"Rebel filth," one spat, voice venomous. "They do not deserve Rome's gift of order."
Alexios exhaled faintly through his nose.
"It is unwise to rebel against Rome—unless the reward outweighs the ruin. For that, Chieftain Teres is a fool. His bow shall break this day."
The officers exchanged pleased glances.
Hooves thundered suddenly behind them, and two horsemen galloped up through the rear columns.
"Lord Praefect!" one called.
"He is here!"
They reined in sharply as Rainer dismounted. His eyes swept the fortress once—then back to Alexios.
"It's smaller than I imagined," he remarked lightly, almost amused.
The officers blinked in disbelief at his ease, given that he was to lead the charge.
"Really?" Alexios asked, curious despite himself.
"Yeah. I've seen worse," Rainer replied, then tilted his head slightly. "You got any requests? Head of the leader, maybe?"
Alexios arched a brow and leaned down toward.
"You can deliver that?" He asked, voice low and solemn.
Rainer shrugged. "I'll try. But I want freedom in return. Honestly, I despise this slave status."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then Alexios began to laugh—low, rolling, like stone cracking in heat.
Rainer frowned. "What's so funny? You don't believe I can?"
"Oh, I want to," Alexios chuckled. "Bring me Chieftain Teres' head, and you shall be—well rewarded."
His mouth split into a dark grin, a rare sight that startled even his officers.
Rainer smirked and thrust his spear into the ground.
"Deal."
Then, without warning, he lunged at him. One hand seizing Alexios's crested helmet; the other unclipping his gem-inlaid dagger along with its sheath.
The officers gawked, half reaching for their swords—but Rainer was already stepping back, spinning the helmet in one hand.
"I'll be needing this!"
He strapped it on, the white crest catching sunlight, and flashed a mischievous grin.
"Worry not, boss! That head's yours!"
Then he turned, grabbed his spear and sprinted straight into the battlefield.
Alexios stared after him in disbelief, and a long silence followed—until one of the stunned officers murmured, almost reverently,
"Perhaps…he truly is Mars' wayward son."