A Narrative History of Byzantium, Book 1: Gloria Sine Fine

[HistoryDude]

Okay, so he needed to check that each group was still where they were when he had last surveyed the battlefield. He didn’t expect the situation to have changed that much, but a lot of things could change in even a few moments, so it was still necessary to check.

Ah, so not much had changed. That was good, as it meant that he didn’t have to change his plan at all. He moved away from the center of the Sassanid army once more. After all, he was far from done, and the battle was even farther from being over.

Most of the more recent recruits - people who had joined during the Dalmatian Campaign and therefore were inexperienced at Siscia - had grouped together. Galerius figured that they were following the principle of safety in numbers. They were fools for that, but they were loyal fools, so he couldn’t let them die. Well, that might take a while.

As he thought that, night began to fall. It was a night with a full moon, though, and the battle was still very much in progress. He suspected that nightfall would provide him - and his comrades - no respite. As he moved toward the group he was trying to rescue, his suspicions were proven correct. The Sassanids seemed to have temporarily gotten over their fear of him, as many attacked him.

He was forced to change his plan. He decided that dual-wielding weapons was going to be his best bet. He drew his sword and a spear. He used these to attack the Sassanids, and he killed many of them. They took the hint and stopped attacking him.

Still, he had valuable time fending them off. He hoped that that time wouldn’t end up making a difference, but he was worried that it would.

He quickly managed to get very close to where the more recent recruits were, but it wasn’t that simple. The newer members were under attack by the Sassanids, and it didn’t look like they were doing well. Indeed, it looked as if they were to abandon each other. Honestly, Galerius wouldn’t blame them if they did break - they were a group of inexperienced soldiers, and they were surrounded.

Galerius drew his bow and shot at the Sassanids. The wind favored him, and the arrow hit the center of the Sassanids. Many Sassanids fled, likely because they expected more arrows. Well, if that was the case, they weren’t wrong. He shot multiple arrows at the center of the Sassanid formation in front of him. Of course, he wasn’t directly behind the Sassanids - that would be suicide. For one thing, being in that position would open him up to short-ranged attack, and, for another, it would render his bow useless.

The Sassanids dispersed, and Galerius took advantage of that. He told the group he was rescuing where the survivors of the Legio I Armeniaca - the original Legio I Armeniaca - were meeting up. Then, he surveyed the battlefield once more. He needed to know what was happening on the battlefield in order to make a plan, after all.

 

[HistoryDude]

There were 3 large groups of Eastern Roman soldiers besides the main one. A few individuals were fighting against the Sassanids alone, as Galerius had done. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearly as good as Galerius, and so their fate was unlikely to be as nice. In addition, there were 2 smaller groups, but they weren’t doing well, either.

This situation meant that Galerius had to make a decision. He could rescue one of the large groups immediately, but that would likely force him to give up on saving at least some of the smaller groups, if he didn’t doom all of them.

The larger groups could hold out for a long time, but they couldn’t hold out forever. The one in the center of the Sassanid army probably could hold out for years, which was why its location was where the Legio I Armeniaca was regrouping. The smaller ones couldn’t hold out for as long, but, if he spent a long time rescuing them, one of the larger groups might break. He wasn’t certain that rescuing most of the smaller groups would make up for not being able to rescue one of the larger groups.

That made his decision exponentially harder. To further complicate things, numbers weren’t the only thing he needed to consider. Even if he managed to think logically - and only logically, meaning that he ignored all emotions and friendships - he would still have to consider the skill of the individual soldiers. He didn’t have enough time to save everyone, and that fact annoyed him greatly.

After a few moments of deliberation, he decided that the large groups could hold a bit longer. The smaller groups likely couldn’t, but he had looked over the battlefield before, and that meant he knew where everyone was. As such, he could rescue a few of the small groups, but he knew that rescuing all of them would be impossible if he wanted to also rescue the larger groups. And sacrificing the larger groups completely was unthinkable.

Thankfully, the Eastern Roman forces seemed to have kept in the same general area. That meant that most of the smaller forces were near his current position. Unfortunately, the effect of his trick with his bow had worn off, so he couldn’t turn around without getting attacked by Sassanid soldiers. He couldn’t leave his back unguarded, but he was alone at the moment. That meant that he had to ensure that there was no one to attack him from behind. That would be even harder than normal, given that it was nighttime.

As such, he decided that dual-wielding weapons would be a good idea. He drew his bow, but he also drew his sword. He shot many arrows, and the Sassanids attacked him, as he knew they would. After all, if he was allowed to shoot them without repercussions, it would be extremely bad for their morale, and it would encourage him - and probably other Eastern Roman recruits, too. He attacked the brave Sassanids with his sword. To their credit, they realized that they couldn’t hold any area when he was opposing them, at least not alone, and retreated.

Now that his back was covered, he turned around and shot at many Sassanids. These required him to turn a lot, but the upside of that was that it meant his flanks were secure. At first, all most of the soldiers in the smaller groups could do was stare at him in shock, but he pointed at where their safe haven was, and his troops got the message. Good. Now, there were only 2 of the smaller groups that he had to save - and a group of two individuals. Surprisingly, those two individuals seemed to be defending themselves extraordinarily well. That meant that they were extraordinarily skilled soldiers, so he needed to save them.

 

[HistoryDude]

Yes, but they were skilled, so they should be able to hold out a bit longer. That meant that he could focus on the other smaller groups, if he wanted to. He could also go rescue one of the larger groups. The unfortunate truth, though, was that there was a rather high possibility that the group of two individuals might not be able to hold out much longer. Galerius was forced to choose who to save, and he hated having to make that decision.

Unfortunately, his feelings changed nothing. He still had to make the decision, no matter how much he hated that fact. He looked around the battlefield, and he saw that one of the large groups was faltering. That was bad. That was very bad.

In a split second, he made his decision. He decided that the two individuals had stood this long, so they would be able to hold a few moments. He would rescue them soon. However, he first had to rescue the large group on the verge of breaking. After all, losing them could mean losing a large portion of their reserves - and some of his friends.

He’d managed to secure his back for at least a little while, but he knew that that situation was unlikely to last. He knows that the best course of action would be to move towards the group he was going to rescue, so he quickly did that. Galerius figured that the Sassanids overcame their fear soon after, but it was already too late. He was no longer an effective target.

As he neared his destination, he quickly noticed that there was already a small passageway that could be used to escape. At first, he wondered why the group of Eastern Roman soldiers didn’t use this pathway to escape, or why the Sassanids didn’t close it. It seemed as if he was the only one who had noticed.

However, he quickly noticed that the eyes of people on both sides occasionally strayed to the opening. That meant that both sides knew of the small opening in the Sassanid lines, so why didn’t either do anything about it? It was a risk to the Sassanids and an opportunity to the Eastern Romans, right? So, why wasn’t anybody taking advantage of it? That didn’t make sense.

There was a possibility that Galerius was considering, deep down, but he didn’t want it to be true. Despite that, he quickly realized that this possibility was the only reasonable explanation, and that horrified him. This horrifying possibility was that the opening existed, and the Sassanids knew that. They were deliberately ensuring that it stayed open, so it granted hope - false hope of escape - to the trapped Eastern Roman forces. He cursed.

This situation was bad. It meant that this particular section of the Sassanid army had an intelligent commander. That made his job exponentially harder. Actually, why was this force more organized than the rest of the Sassanid army?

Galerius quickly realized the reason for that, though. He looked over the Sassanid force. Oh. That explained it. Kavadh was commanding this force personally, so it made sense that it would be a bit more organized than the rest of the army.

Of course, Galerius quickly realized that this rescue would be more difficult than the ones that he’d done before, but it was also an opportunity. After all, if he killed Kavadh, then the Sassanid force would be left without a commander and lose almost all of its organization. That would make an Eastern Roman victory far easier.

 

[HistoryDude]

Of course, Galerius quickly realized that this rescue would be more difficult than the ones that he’d done before, but it was also an opportunity. After all, if he killed Kavadh, then the Sassanid force would be left without a commander and lose almost all of its organization. That would make an Eastern Roman victory far easier.

He drew his sword, but he didn’t do anything with it quite yet. As far as he was aware, none of the Sassanids knew that he was near them, and he intended to keep it that way.

If they didn’t know where he was, then he could surprise them. Surprised enemies were always easier to defeat than enemies that knew where you were.

At first, this idea worked perfectly. He managed to get to the very small gap in the Sassanid lines without being spotted by either side. Unfortunately, his plan quickly lost its viability after that.

The first people to spot him were the people he was trying to rescue. That wasn’t the problem. He put his finger to his lips so that they didn’t accidentally alert the Sassanids of his presence. Thankfully, the commander of his fellow Eastern Romans seemed to get the message.

He began to attack the Sassanids. Unfortunately, Kavadh quickly noticed that some of his soldiers around the small opening were dying. Galerius was quickly faced with an onslaught of Sassanid attacks from both sides.

Galerius cursed. Of course! This was a trap for the Eastern Roman forces if they ever attempted to escape, but it was also a trap for any Eastern Romans who attempted to rescue them. That meant that he’d been outsmarted, and he was now surrounded. If he didn’t do something, then he would perish in battle. He didn’t want to do that, especially considering that his death would likely harm the Eastern Roman war effort overall.

How did he get out of this, though? He was trapped in an ambush, and, at the moment, he only had one sword drawn. That meant he would have to focus on one of the two armies currently attacking his position, at least until he had breathing room to draw another weapon. That was going to be difficult, but, if he could kill or capture Kavadh, then the Sassanid army would become disorganized. This portion of it would be especially disorganized, which would allow him to rescue the army trapped here and then escape.

Where was Kavadh? He frowned. Commanders were usually near the center of their armies, so that was his best bet as to where Kavadh was. The small “gap” was on the army’s right, so Galerius decided that he would focus his attention on the soldiers who were attacking him on his left.

He quickly realized that his idea was… not great, to say the least. Just because he had decided to focus on one direction from which his enemies were attacking didn’t mean that his enemies that were attacking him from the other direction would stop attacking, or even that they would attack with less ferocity.

As such, his back didn’t feel great. He gritted his teeth. “Ignore the pain, ignore the pain,” he chanted to himself. That was easier said than done, and he didn’t get used to the pain, exactly. However, it did stop affecting him as much as it had been initially. Still, he desperately wanted it to stop.

The quickest way he figured that this goal was achievable was by getting the Sassanids that he was focusing on to retreat, at least for a small while.

 

[HistoryDude]

At first, his plan didn’t succeed. The Sassanids had apparently figured out that he couldn’t go on much longer, so they continued to attack him relentlessly. He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t keep going on like this for much longer. Eventually, he would die of his wounds. He wasn’t Achilles.

He doubled his efforts. He attacked the Sassanids with as much ferocity as he could, and he killed many of the Sassanids in front of him. Thankfully, this apparently had an effect on the Sassanid troops who momentarily called off their attack on him. Despite this, he was still being attacked from behind, but he had slightly more time. He had managed to buy enough time to draw another weapon at least, which he did immediately.

He quickly turned around and attacked the Sassanids who were attacking him from behind. They were taken by surprise, and they moved back a small bit. Galerius smiled. His plan had succeeded, at least partially.

However, he knew that this was merely a brief respite. Soon enough, the Sassanids would realize that they heavily outnumbered him, and that he was badly wounded. They would attack, and he wasn’t sure if he could survive that - or that if he did, he could ensure that he wasn’t forced to surrender.

Still, a brief respite was enough to get to his comrades who he was trying to do so. He quickly did so, and then he breathed a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten one key fact. Namely, that he was attempting to rescue a group from the Sassanids. By crossing the line, he’d just managed to trap himself… while almost fatally wounded.

He sighed. This situation would be hard to escape, but he could do it. First of all, he needed to ensure that he survived long enough to be able to continue rescuing the remainder of the Armeniaca. If he didn’t, then all of his efforts would be for nought, and a Roman legion would be leaderless. That would be a horrible situation.

He couldn’t focus on that right now, though, because he needed to focus on his current task. He could plan for his death once the Legio I Armeniaca was reunited in the Eastern Roman camp and no sooner.

He grabbed a few pieces of cloth and used them to cover up the wounds on his back, but that was a stopgap solution. He would still die very soon, and that was inevitable. Still, he had probably bought enough time to finish rescuing the rest of his legion - this charge had been his idea, so it was his responsibility to ensure that most of the soldiers who had participated in it survived.

Now that he was in a somewhat safe position, what was he going to do? He needed to find a way out of the trap the Sassanids had set for his comrades that had caught him as well. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was trapped. The question was: how would he get out of this trap? He could kill many Sassanids, but that plan was unlikely to succeed. These men had a commander, and so it was far less likely that they would retreat…

 

[HistoryDude]

Galerius had managed to get into a (relatively) safe haven, but that wasn’t enough. He collapsed almost as soon as he could. He didn’t end up dreaming in this unconscious state.

As such, he felt a shock when he was “woken up”. It seemed as if some of the soldiers he was initially planning on rescuing had found him. He smiled, for this was good news for him. He followed them, but he had no clue where he was going. He knew that he wasn’t going to the main Eastern Roman camp, as access to that was blocked by the Sassanid troops led by Kavadh, and also the entire rest of the Sassanid army.

Where was he going, then? He asked this question to his new companions, and their reply was very cryptic. They simply said, “you’ll see”. Why were they being so secret?

He sighed. He could be patient. He wanted to know where he was going, of course, but these were his comrades. He could trust them - he couldn’t even trust the entirety of the Legio I Armeniaca, but he could trust these men. Only those whose loyalty to the Empire he was certain of had been allowed to participate in his charge, though, so it was highly unlikely that this was a trap. These men hadn’t betrayed him - and the Emperor - at Siscia.

“What would you trying to do anyway?” one of his new companions asked. “We’re fine. We can hold out for many weeks yet.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean that you want to,” Galerius replied. “I was - and am - trying to rescue you. A portion of our legion has managed to drive all Sassanid presence away from a portion of the battlefield. I have been rescuing the scattered groups of my comrades from the Sassanids - the plan is to meet at this safe house and plan how we’re going to return to our tent. Once that is achieved, all we have to do is wait and hold the line until our reinforcements arrive.”

“That logic makes sense,” the man said. “You can plan our temporary commander. I’d quite appreciate an end to this fighting - even if it is only a brief respite. If I can survive until the end of the war, that would be preferable, but I know that this battle is far from over.”

“True enough,” Galerius commented. “What will you do when this war is over, assuming you survive it? You’re a soldier during wartime, yes, but many people - including myself - are soldiers during war. What are you during peace?”

The man smiled. “I have my own plans, my commander,” he said. “But you are my commander during wartime - not my ruler when peace reigns. And, what will you do once the Sassanids are defeated once more? And why do you still fight?”

Galerius pursed his lips. He fought for revenge, of course - the shame of Siscia needed to be avenged. The Eastern Romans had lost Pannonia and some of Dalmatia through treachery, and that could not be allowed to stand. Ultimately, his response was simply, “I fight for revenge,”.

“Ah,” the man - who was starting to look familiar to Galerius - said. “I suspected as much. Many have stayed in the Armenian Legion because they are ashamed of Siscia, and I don’t blame them. Siscia was a disaster. But, if revenge is your reason to fight now, why did you fight at Siscia in the first place?”

 

[HistoryDude]

Galerius sighed. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn’t know why he fought at Siscia - he didn’t even remember most of his life up until Siscia. And why was the man he was speaking with beginning to look familiar?

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I can barely even remember what I did before that disaster happened, let alone why I was present there.”

“Ah,” the man said. “That is the answer of many men in this legion when I asked them why they stayed in the army. Many men want revenge, but few remember the circumstances that led to the event that they wish to avenge.”

Galerius sighed. He knew what this man meant, but he didn’t know what he was going to do with his knowledge. It wasn’t like he could just undo Siscia, and he couldn’t remember what he had forgotten. He had tried to remember, but that knowledge was lost to him forever.

If he somehow survived the war, what was he going to do? Revenge was why he fought. Revenge was why he lived.

Just then, his back flared up in pain. At first, he had to struggle a small bit just to walk. Then, however, he realized something. Revenge was why he lived, but he was far from the only person who wanted revenge on the scoundrel Odoacer. Others could get revenge on his behalf - as well as their own.

The pain was good. It meant that his death neared. It meant that he would never have to figure out what he was going to do once he finally had revenge. Oh, he regretted that he would never get his revenge in person, but he didn’t envy those who would live a meaningless life - those who continued to live their life for revenge and then achieved it…

That raised a question, though. Why was the man asking him these questions. He looked familiar, so Galerius was almost certain that they had met before, but that meeting could have occurred at any number of places. Well, he might as well make small talk.

“Why do you serve in this legion?” he asked. “I - and many others, apparently - serve for revenge. However, you seem to think that this isn’t a good reason, so what is your reason?”

“Oh, revenge is a perfectly good reason,” his companion said. “It’s bad if it’s the only reason. For what do you do after you’ve achieved your revenge? Revenge isn’t as satisfying as it first seems, either. As for why I fight… I suppose that I fight because I want to.”

Galerius raised an eyebrow. “I fight because I want to,” he pointed out. “I just want to fight because it allows me to get revenge. And why, exactly, is fighting because you feel like it - if that is truly why you fight - better than fighting for revenge? For that matter, why do you want to?”

The man smiled. “You’re asking good questions,” he said. “I’ll tell you exactly why I want to once we’re closer to where we’re going.”

“And where are we going?” Galerius asked. “You’ll see is an annoying answer.”

“I’m aware,” the man said dryly. “This is confidential for some reason, though.”

 

[HistoryDude]

Galerius raised an eyebrow but said nothing. There were plenty of reasons why things were being confidential, although it was… unusual that they would keep information from their commander. He figured that they must have their reasons.

He internally cursed. He needed to figure out a way out of here. These troops were welcoming, but he knew that they didn’t truly want to be here. Nobody liked being under siege.

In addition to that, this wasn’t the only group of people under siege. He wanted to save everyone in his legion, but he knew that was impossible. People died. He couldn’t save his entire legion - or even the remnants of the Armeniaca that had survived Siscia, and he knew that. That didn’t mean that he had to like it.

Still, these people were worth saving. Anybody who could hold out for so long against what was arguably the main Sassanid force deserved to be saved from death. They could be extremely useful later.

Galerius finally realized why the man he was chatting with looked so familiar. They had indeed met before, but he still didn’t know where. He hated not knowing - and he hated forgetting than never having known things. He decided that studying the man with whom he had been talking with would make it easier for him to figure out who he was.

But first he had overlooked one very obvious question. “What’s your name?” he asked his companion.

His companion smiled. “I haven’t heard that question in a very long time,” he said, looking at the sky as if remembering better times. “For that matter, I haven’t heard my name in a long time, either. War makes such things almost meaningless. Regardless, I still remember my name, despite all of that. It is Eroton.”

Galerius frowned. That name sounded familiar, but he still couldn’t place it. He would have to study the man in order to figure out where he’d met before, and why he cared about that fact at all.

The man was relatively short, but he looked muscular as well, so his height didn’t really matter. Galerius had seen him use a sword before - he was quite skilled in that department. He blinked. Wait, where had that come from? He was certain that he had indeed seen this man use a sword, but he hadn’t recognized his companion for hours. His conscious mind still didn’t, but he was beginning to think that his unconscious mind might have.

Why now, though? The only new thing he had learned about his mysterious companion was his name.

Anyway, his new companion also had a clean face, and his hair was very short. Suddenly, Galerius realized exactly why he recognized this man - and the real reason why he had agreed to come with him.

Eroton had been childhood friends with him, but, as they grew, they had become interested in the military arts. They had both joined the Legio I Armeniaca, and both of them had made a name for themselves. That was why Galerius was chosen to lead the Legio I Armeniaca in the aftermath of Siscia - he was already a well-known soldier, and he had distinguished himself once and for all at Siscia.

What had Eroton done there? Well, he’d saved his friend’s life.

 

[HistoryDude]

Galerius figured that he should probably acknowledge that that event had happened. “Thank you for my life,” he told Eroton.

Eroton smiled. “You remember, then?” he asked. “That is good, that’s very good. Why did you forget in the first place, though?”

Galerius sighed. “Why do you think?” he asked. “I forgot because the need for revenge consumed me. I wanted to - indeed, needed to - avenge Siscia. When you live for one reason alone, then anything that didn’t matter to that reason becomes useless to you. I didn’t remember because I didn’t need to remember… at all.”

Eroton turned around to look at him. He looked Galerius directly in the eye, and he asked, “if that is truly the case, then why do remember now? If you forgot because it wasn’t useful to your goal, then why is it useful now?”

Galerius smiled. However, this smile looked unnatural on his face, and he knew it. “It still isn’t,” he admitted. “But, deep down, I don’t think I ever forgot.” At Eroton’s disbelieving look, Galerius rolled his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t recognize who you were initially, but, deep down, I did remember your name and you did look familiar. I just couldn’t figure out why.”

“That makes sense,” Eroton said. “Well, we’re here at least. You assume you wish to chat with our temporary commander?”

Galerius blinked. He did want to chat with whoever had managed to hold this long against the best of the Sassanid army, but he needed to know something else far more pertinently. Where was “here”?

The area was filled with tents, so it looked like a camp. The terrain was flat, but this area looked different than the rest of the area where the remnants of the Legio I Armeniaca - the original Legio I Armeniaca - did. There were many fires. Galerius wondered why - the sun hadn’t set yet.

So this was where they were going. It seemed as if these men had managed to set up their small camp. Of course, Galerius knew that they couldn’t hold out forever - it didn’t matter that they had their own camp, they would eventually surrender. Or the Sassanids would figure out that they had a camp and attack it.

These were resourceful people, though, so he had a reason to save them. First, though, he would need to talk with their temporary leader. He wondered who that was.

Eroton made for a tent, and Galerius followed. “You’re going to the tent of your temporary leader, right?” Galerius asked.

“Yes,” Eroton replied. “I am. All three of us need to talk about what we're going to do next. And then we will finally have a plan.”

They were walking toward a tent slightly bigger than the others. From afar, Galerius hadn’t noticed that the tents weren’t all the same size at all. They entered this tent, and Galerius looked around it. This tent was plain, but that was to be expected. After all, this tent had to have been constructed very quickly, so the tents probably functioned as temporary living areas and nothing more.

Weirdly, the tent appeared uninhabited right now. “We should wait outside,” Eroton said. Galerius quickly agreed, and they did so.

 

[HistoryDude]

Unfortunately, as soon as they stepped outside, it started to rain. Galerius cursed. Of course. This was absolutely fantastic.The rain hit his back, and his pain increased tenfold. He grit his teeth. He knew that waiting was the best course of action, but he hated waiting. He was running out of time to finish rescuing the rest of those who had participated in his charge. In addition, he still needed to figure out what he was going to do about the Legio I Armeniaca.

All of these thoughts occurred to him in quick succession, but he never got to think on them further. Darkness began to assault his vision, and, then, he saw nothing at all. He no longer saw the camp surrounded by enemy soldiers, and he wondered, briefly, if that might be a good thing. Then, even his thoughts stopped.

Before that, though, for the briefest of moments, he saw a skeletal being. He seemed to motion him away from its position. He didn’t have time to think on this, of course, but he would later wonder if this being was death, rejecting his soul.

In the immediate moment, though, that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was unconscious, and he might as well have been dead.

His senses returned quickly, and he figured that someone had revived him. That was good. He looked around, and he noticed that he was in a tent. He wondered which tent it was, though. Had the leader of this small encampment returned to his tent, or was this Eroton’s tent? He highly doubted that it was a medical tent. The legions didn’t include doctors, and, even if they did, this isolated encampment - a last ditch effort to survive the Sassanid siege - wouldn’t have any.

Wait. If that was the case, then why was he still alive? He wasn’t complaining, of course, although he didn’t fear death. He should have bled to death by now.
He was on the floor, and that was uncomfortable. To be fair, his comrades really didn’t have that much time to set a camp up. He wondered if everybody slept on the floor.

Eroton walked in. “How are you?” he asked.

“Well, I am about to die,” Galerius snapped back. “Other than that, though, I’m fine. I’d prefer to finish this battle before I die, at least. Given how unlikely that is, though, I would like to at least get my affairs in order and get everybody who participated in this disastrous attack to safety - everybody that can be saved, anyway.”

Eroton rolled his eyes. “Hopefully, you’ll live long enough to see those goals fulfilled,” he said. “Come on, we need to have a chat with the temporary leader of this encampment.”

“Very well,” Galerius said as he stood up. It wasn’t easy to stand, but he could deal with the pain. He had dealt with it for a while already.

Galerius followed Eroton outside of the tent, and he noticed that it was still raining. That wasn’t an ideal situation, but he could deal with it.

This time around, Galerius noticed a few differences between the tent that he had been in and this tent. The “command tent” - or at least Galerius assumed it functioned as a command tent - was only slightly larger than the other tents, yes, and it wasn’t more luxurious. Despite those facts, though, it did have a small collection of maps, which is why Galerius thought that it was the command tent.

 

[HistoryDude]

Sorry about my unannounced hiatus. This chapter isn't very long, but it's what I have. I'm hoping to finish up the Second Battle of Hasakah by the next update, but that may prove to be an impossible task...


That was very good. The commander of this small force was probably a very resourceful man. Galerius wished that they didn’t need that, but they did - his charge had gone horribly wrong. The hour of his death was soon, but he still had work to do. He couldn’t die yet.

He looked around. Eroton was present, yes, but so was another man that Galerius didn’t know. He figured that this man was the commander of this force. If his assumption was correct, he desperately needed to talk with him - he needed to ensure that this small force didn’t perish entirely. He knew that some must have died, although he didn’t like that fact.

There were more important things to focus on right now. “Are you the commander of this small force?” Galerius asked the man he didn’t know. “Also, what’s your name?”

“Yes, I am,” the man confirmed. “My name is Titus. Who are you?”

Galerius blinked. He hadn’t expected this (temporary) commander to be that forthcoming, but that was a good thing. “My name is Galerius,” he began. “I am the current commander of the Legio I Armeniaca, although I’m sure that you already knew that.”

“I did,” Titus murmured. “Why are you here? What do you want? You led this charge, and it is a good move… strategically. That being said, people have died here.”

“Did you know any of them?” Galerius asked. Titus didn’t react to that. “Regardless, I am here to prevent more deaths. That is what I want. We need to discuss an escape. After all, your small force might’ve held this long, but they’re still surrounded by the Sassanids.”

“True enough,” Titus acknowledged. “What did you have in mind? We’re surrounded, and it will not be easy to escape.”

“And, even if we did escape,” Eroton interjected. “Where would we go? We are currently in the middle of a Sassanid army. Even if we manage to escape, we will still be surrounded.”

“No,” Galerius said. “We won’t. There is a safe haven within the Sassanid lines. I am saving what is left of the original Legio I Armeniaca. Well, I’m trying to do that, anyway.”

“Where is this safe haven?” Titus asked. “Your goal is noble, but, again, how do you plan to escape? Especially with the entirety of the force currently trapped here? The only opening is a deliberate trap, as Eroton can tell you.”

Eroton winced, and Galerius blinked. He wondered when that particular trap had been set up. Also, he was relieved that he wasn’t the only person to fall for it, although he was ashamed of that fact. “Yes, I’m perfectly aware of the Sassanid trap,” he said, wincing.

“Oh?” Titus asked. “How are you doing, then? Surviving that couldn’t have been an easy feat.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Galerius admitted. “I had to kill many Sassanids, and I was grievously wounded. I survived… if only for a moment.”

“If only for a moment?” Titus inquired. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you dying?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, Galerius raised up both of his hands. They were completely covered in blood. That was his answer. He looked at Titus’s facial expression, and he knew that the man understood his answer.

“Why are you here, then?” Titus asked. “Shouldn’t you… be dealing with your impending death? That seems like something that would be important.”

“My death,” Galerius began. “Well, my death is inevitable. I can delay it, yes, but what would be the point?

“I have a feeling that there actually is a point to that right now,” Eroton pointed out. “Especially since you aren’t dead yet. It has been at least one day since I found you, so you’re clearly keeping yourself alive for something. The question is what that thing is.”

“I got the Armeniaca into this situation,” Galerius said. “Now, I need to get them out of it. Once that is achieved, I can finally rest.”

He wouldn’t live to see Odoacer brought down. He wouldn’t get to see the Armeniaca’s vengeance, but he was certain that it would occur. That was a comfort, but he would watch it from heaven. He had no wish to live a life where he was driven by nothing. And war was all he knew.

There was silence, but that was expected. What response could there be to that declaration? Galerius knew that he couldn’t dwell on his failures. He needed to get on with freeing this section of the Legio I Armeniaca, and then he could free the other groups - those that were still scattered around the battlefield.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “We need to make plans. We need to escape - to make it back to the safety of our camp.”

“And how do you propose that we do that?” Eroton asked. “We’ve considered ways that we could escape, and no answer has come to us. What is this plan of yours?”

Galerius took a deep breath, and, then, he told them his plan. It would be difficult to escape the Sassanids, especially considering that they were surrounded, but it wouldn’t be impossible. It would be far from impossible.

“Very well,” Titus said. “We will try your plan. First, however, we must get some rest. It’s getting late.”

 

[HistoryDude]

Galerius merely nodded. He quickly fell asleep in a small tent that he had on hand (he wasn’t normally that prepared, but he needed somewhere to sleep). He dreamt nothing once more, but he was prepared to execute his plan.

As the night faded, Galerius left his small tent. He would need quite a lot of luck for this plan to work, but he didn’t have anything left to lose. His life was forfeit already, but his time had not yet come. He needed to save as much of his legion as he could…

Dawn was rapidly approaching, but it hadn’t arrived. He could take advantage of that. He highly doubted that the entire Sassanid army was asleep at this time, but it didn’t need to be. They wouldn’t be expecting an attack at this hour, no matter how many of them were actually awake. He still had the element of surprise. That was good because he would most definitely need it.

The previous night, he had asked Titus if any of the Eastern Roman soldiers that had been trapped here would be willing to fight in the early morning. A surprising amount of people were willing to do this for a chance to escape. Nobody liked being trapped by enemy forces.

This news meant that his plan actually had a possibility of working. These volunteers had gathered near the edge of their temporary camp. They didn’t have much time to pull this off, but they had enough.

Galerius figured that these men could use some inspiration. If this failed, then their deaths were incredibly likely to follow - or their imprisonment. He took a reassuring breath and began his speech.

“You have been trapped here,” he began. “And your hopes of survival are low. However, the Sassanids aren’t expecting us to attack so early. They will be taken by surprise. That will be our chance. We don’t need to slaughter their army, and we aren’t expecting to pull that out. We are merely attempting to survive. You will cut open a path of retreat, and then you will lead your comrades to safety. We will regroup, and then we will win!”

The men who were following him merely nodded. He turned and moved towards one of the Sassanid lines, and the men followed.

They managed to reach that line before the sun truly rose. Galerius smiled, for he still had his cover of darkness. He attacked them. Most of the Sassanids were far too tired - or even asleep - to fight back.

By the time dawn came, a pathway to the camp of safety was open. He headed there, and the men that had been trapped for so long followed.

It was not until he finally reached the camp that he turned around. Thankfully, Titus and Eroton were leading the rest of those poor trapped souls towards safety. Good. That meant that this group, at least, was safe.

Galerius decided not to rest. His death was near, and he was determined to save as much as his legion as he could before it occurred.

He decided to survey the battlefield. The two men that were under near constant Sassanid attack were still alive. Galerius figured that that meant that they were very resourceful. Even despite that, though, they would fall soon enough. He should probably go rescue them. If he did that, it may very well be his last act, but he frankly didn’t care. If he was going to die, why shouldn’t he go out gloriously?

He moved out of the camp quickly. He couldn’t let himself get caught needlessly. His death should be glorious, and he fully intended to die as he had lived - that is, by the sword.

He managed to make it very close to the two survivors before he realized the problem. That problem was why they were survivors… namely, they were under attack by the Sassanids, and dawn had come and gone.

He looked around to see exactly which pathway to his two comrades was. Surprisingly, there was an area that was only defended by a single man. He decided to attack there. All he would have to do was get this man out of the way, and then there would be a clear path to escape for his comrades.

Of course, Galerius wasn’t a fool. He knew that, if only one was blocking the area which had effectively become a prison, they must be a good fighter. He smiled at that thought. He could use a good fight right now. If nothing else, it would keep his mind off of his impending death.

He breathed, and then he attacked. He quickly felt the force of another sword of his own. He exchanged blows with this enemy soldier for some time, but neither was any closer to actually winning.

Finally, Galerius saw an opening. He stabbed his opponent in the stomach, and his enemy fell. He now had an open path to his comrades, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

He moved towards his comrades. He didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t matter. They had managed to survive this long, and that was what mattered to him - they would prove useful to the legion after his death.

However, he first needed to talk them into going to the safe camp. He figured that that shouldn’t be too hard. They were probably tired of fighting for their lives.

 

[HistoryDude]

He felt a sharp pain in his back. He muttered a curse, and then he reached towards his back. He felt a sword hilt. He grimaced, and then he pulled the sword out of his back.

Well, the good news was that he now had two swords, but the bad news was that he was even closer to death than before. That didn’t matter. He could still move, so he could still finish fulfilling his goal.

Once he had finally rescued these two men, he figured that he would be too tired to do anything else. The hour of his death was at hand, and he was not so foolish as to believe that he could prevent it. He’d delayed for a rather long, but he would have to delay for a little while longer. He couldn’t fail in his task… not again.

Siscia was a disaster, yes, and he had wanted - he still wanted - revenge for that. There was a reason for that longing - for that want, though. He had failed at Siscia, and, in truth, he still felt somewhat guilty for his part in that massacre.

Oh, he hadn’t turned traitor. He hadn’t turned on his comrades for something as ephemeral as money. He was wise enough to know that gold wasn’t worth betrayal. Even despite that, he had been tempted - if only for a moment. Unfortunately, a moment might’ve been enough for those who were tempted by gold to act. His hesitation might’ve cost the Empire Siscia - and, by extent, half of Dalmatia, Pannonnia, and the majority of two legions.

Idly, he wondered if this was what Varus felt before his death. It was probably worse, though, because Varus didn’t need to live with the consequences of his failure. He got to die, and Germania Magna was lost.

He quickly dismissed that line of thought. His guilt meant nothing. It would not save those members of his legion - and the Italica - that had perished at Siscia. If he acted now, though, he could prevent a repeat of Siscia. He had already done that, in truth, but the more people he could save, the more people could be used to avenge Siscia, even after his demise. As such, he had to move and talk now.

First, however, he needed to ensure that he could do that safely. To do that, he needed to create a safe haven - at least temporarily. That might be… somewhat difficult.

There were many Sassanids here, and he had just killed one of their comrades. It would probably take them a while to notice, but they would notice. Why should he wait for them to notice one death, though? He had the element of surprise - he should use it.

Yes, he would attack the other Sassanids before they noticed his presence. That should allow him enough time to kill or scare away the other Sassanids - time to form the safe haven he needed to have to speak with his former comrades.

He had recognized the two men who had managed to hold out so long. He had pushed that thought to the back of his mind, though. He could catch up later - if he survived this night. He wasn’t confident that he would.

At first, this plan worked perfectly. The Sassanids didn’t see him coming, and many perished at the hands of his blade. His comrades helped, although they didn’t know why so many Sassanids were dying.

Galerius didn’t know why he was surprised by this. He had explicitly decided to save these two men - even before he knew who they were - because of how long they had held out. It was completely logical that they would’ve killed many Sassanids. Still, the thought that they would continue to do so when he attacked hadn’t occurred to him. Or, rather, he hadn’t considered what they would be doing at all.

Still, the Sassanids hadn’t expected his intervention, which was part of what allowed him to kill so many of them. It took a few hours, but there was a safe spot to meet before night fell.

No Sassanids would disturb them here. Those who were defending - or attacking - this spot were either dead or had fled. The pile of Sassanid bodies would make any of the other Sassanids think twice about attacking. That meant that Galerius could finally talk with his former comrades without interruption. Hopefully, they could catch up while discussing plans. And, if he achieved nothing else, this would be a good spot to die.

Galerius hoped to live a little longer, though. He knew that his death was near, but he wouldn’t attempt to make it come quicker. Well, he had put this conversation long enough. It was about time he caught up with some of his old friends - especially since he had known them even before they’d all joined the Legio I Armeniaca.

“Hello, Galerius,” one of them said. “How have you been? I doubt that this battle has treated anyone kindly - on either side.”

That was true, of course, although Galerius had never really cared about the lives of his enemies. He figured that, if all of the enemies of the Eastern Roman Empire were dead, then there would be peace. And he longed for peace. He figured that voicing that probably wasn’t a great idea, though.

Instead, he spoke of the plan to end this battle. Perhaps his friend’s empathy could be used. “This battle has indeed killed many people,” he said. “We need to end it somehow. I have a plan for that…”

He received no answer to that declaration, but he knew that that silence simply meant that they were waiting for him to continue. He bit his lip - he did have a plan, of course, but it was risky. Still, he would probably be dead by nightfall anyway, so what did he have left to lose?

Nothing. He had nothing left to lose. His life was already forfeit - he might as well ensure that the Sassanids remembered him. He wouldn’t be forgotten.

“There is a small area within this battlefield,” Galerius began. “This area contains a camp, and much of the remnants of the original Legio I Armeniaca. I have been gathering people there. From there, I hope that we can return to our camp - where we can create a plan to end this battle permanently. If we’re lucky, we'll even be able to end the war here.”

“No, if we’re good enough,” the other man said. “Luck is a fickle thing, but we don’t need to be privy to her whims. The Lord helps those who help themselves.”

That brought back memories. Brutus had never put much faith in the supernatural. Galerius could appreciate that now, in ways that he couldn’t before. It was hard to have faith when you were dying but had managed to keep yourself alive through sheer willpower. Relying on deities of any kind would get you killed.

“That he does,” was his only reply to Brutus’s declaration.

“Anyway, the plan is to get to this safe haven,” Galerius began. “You will discuss your next moves - how, exactly, the Legio I Armeniaca, and the two Isaurian legions, plan to end this battle, and, from there, this war. As for me, well, I will rescue as much as my old legion - the legion that I joined - that I can. Then, I can finally die in peace.”

“Very well,” Brutus said. “But even the best plans can go awry. How will you ensure that your body ends up in the care of your comrades? How will you ensure that your body is not left here, forgotten, one amongst thousands of corpses?”

Galerius hadn’t considered that, and he knew why he hadn’t done so. As much as he had accepted the inevitability of his death, he had held off on considering what would happen after that. He didn’t want to die - even if his death freed him from the spectre of a meaningless life. Also, he would be dead then, so why should he care about what happened to his corpse? It wasn’t like that would affect anything.

“Why does it matter?” he asked. “It isn't like the location of my corpse affects anything. Still, if you really want to give me a funeral, I will try to get back to the temporary safe haven for our soldiers before I truly die.”

“Very well,” Brutus said. “I suppose this is where we are parted, then? It was nice knowing you. Give them hell.”

“I will,” Galerius said, and he truly meant that. He might as well ensure that he was remembered by his foes for many years to come.

On that note, he left the small haven. The Sassanids didn’t attack him, but he barely noticed that. He had a mission, and he would not fail in it.

Still, it would probably be a good idea to look around the battlefield. He needed to know just who was even left to rescue. He had got most of the original armenian legion into this mess, so it was only right that he would get them out of it.

And, if it ensured that he wasn’t forgotten, then that was a bonus. In truth, though, he didn’t care about his fame. Why should he? He would be dead soon enough anyway, and the dead could appreciate nothing.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if the remnants of the Legio I Armeniaca who he hadn’t managed to rescue had been scattered. Many had been killed, and the rest had gradually lost their cohesion. Instead of a few large groups and a couple of small groups bravely defending themselves against the Sassanids - as it had been when he had begun his mission - there were only small groups desperately fighting to survive.

What should he do? He could rescue others, yes, but that would be difficult, if not impossible. He could head back to the safe haven, but that would mean sacrificing those who weren’t yet safe. As he considered his options, his choice was made for him.

The Sassanids had apparently gotten over whatever was preventing them from attacking him. Small groups of Sassanids attacked him, but many of them were archers. Idly, he wondered why that was. Deep down, however, he knew the truth. They had held off on attacking him and were wary around him - even as they attacked him - because they were afraid.

Galerius smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who had nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. He counterattacked. Any Sassanids who had been brave enough to attack him without a bow and arrows quickly lost their bravery. Still, he was still under attack.

It was only ranged attacks, so dodging was easier. However, he didn’t want to be under attack at all. He was tired, and, soon, he would be done. Not yet, though. He still had work to do.

He dodged the arrows that were aimed at him. Then, he began to close the distance between himself and those who were shooting at him. Most of the Sassanids dropped their weapons, but they were not all cowards. Galerius could respect that, at least.

He killed most of the archers who were brave enough to stand their ground against him. A few managed to escape, but he didn’t care about that. His goal - and the goal of this charge was simply to thin the Sassanid lines and to buy the Eastern Romans time. He had done what he had set out to do, even if there were more casualties than he would’ve liked.

He looked around the battlefield. The only human beings of any kind near him were dead Sassanids. A few of his comrades had noticed the safe haven and were working their way toward it. Galerius smiled at that. Many of his comrades would live to see another day. That was good.

 

[HistoryDude]

He was still bleeding. He would die of blood loss, if nothing else, before nightfall. He had managed to kill many Sassanids, and his goal had been achieved. However, that wasn’t enough. He would kill as many Sassanids as he could. Then, and only then, would he rest.

Unfortunately, the Sassanids seemed to have learned from their mistakes. They wouldn’t attack him. Galerius shut his eyes, and, then, he resolved to die as he had lived. He had lived his life in battle, so it was only fitting that he would die in a battle.

At that moment, he made a decision. He would take out as many Sassanids as he could. When he knew that her death was on the verge of occurring, then he would head back to the small safe haven that most of the men who had participated in this charge were located.

He drew a dagger. He might as well duel-wield blades. He could kill more Sassanids that way. “And this will be my battlefield,” he said, and, with that, he threw his dagger at one of the Sassanids.

Then, he approached the Sassanids. The other Sassanids apparently couldn’t this act go unpunished, as they attacked them. Galerius had expected this, though, and his sword hit the first one who dared to approach. This seemed to temporarily dissuade the other Sassanids from attacking for a brief while, but he knew that they would eventually get over their fear.

He didn’t plan on giving them that choice. He quickly retrieved his dagger. Being able to fight at range was useful, especially if you had enemies that could also attack you from long distances, and he didn’t feel like drawing his bow. Also, he was running out of arrows, due to the fact that his bow (and his quiver) was only supposed to be used in emergencies. Galerius supposed that his last moments technically counted as an emergency, but his last moments hadn’t come yet. He could last for at least a few more hours.

He would never surrender. He knew that his death was near, but that was no reason to surrender. Only cowards surrendered, and he was far from a coward. He wasn’t being attacked right now, but he knew that that meant nothing. This was merely the eye of the hurricane, and it would be over soon.

He was quickly proven right. He barely had time to dodge an arrow shot at him, and the other Sassanid archers must’ve taken that as a weakness, as he was soon faced with many arrows, all heading towards him.

Galerius dealt with this by slicing the arrows out of the air with his dagger. The archers, however, had smelled blood in the water. They continued their attacks. He continued to dodge their arrows and to slice them out of the air, but they kept coming.

Then, to make matters even worse for him, the Sassanids decided that he was weak. They attacked him with close-range weapons as well. He was quickly surrounded. He shut his eyes, and he decided that this would be his final act - an act of defiance and not submission.

He opened his eyes, and, then, he screamed and attacked them all. His attackers were taken aback at his act of utter defiance - or, at least, that’s what he liked to think. It’s equally as likely that they were taken aback at his sheer bravery - and, in the eyes of some, stupidity.

Galerius didn’t care about what the Sassanids felt, though. Many wouldn’t survive this night, although he wouldn’t, either.

The Sassanids took about an hour to recover from their shock. Once they did, however, they attacked with utter rage. Galerius fended off as many as he could, but the Sassanids kept attacking. It was not long before he had too many wounds and not enough drive.

With his last breaths, he looked around the battlefield. Those Romans who had not died or been captured had made it to the safe haven. That was good. The Legio I Armeniaca would outlast him, and it would defeat the Sassanids. Once that was done, it would avenge itself against the so-called “King of Italy”, Odoacer.
And, with that thought, Galerius breathed his last and descended into infinite silence and shadow.

 

[HistoryDude]

Eroton walked around the new camp. He had only arrived here somewhat recently, but not being under siege was a nice feeling. He sighed. He was no longer under siege, yes, but the battle was far from over. He should probably talk with Titus about how they were going to escape being trapped in the Sassanid lines.

The area that they were currently in was a safe haven for now, but there was no confirmation that that would last. They needed to get to the Eastern Roman lines - and it would be… preferable if they could do it quickly. If they didn’t…well, that probably wouldn’t be pretty.

He had the outline of a plan, but it wasn’t very specific. He decided to talk with Titus about it. In general, he didn’t like specific plans - no plan survived contact with the enemy, so what was the point of crafting a specific plan? Still, he wanted a second input on his idea (which did leave a lot of room for improvisation because that would be needed).

He headed to the tent that he had seen Titus enter. He wasn’t sure if Titus was still in there, but that was the only place where Eroton knew to look for his commander, so he was checking there anyway. He wasn’t quite sure where he would look if Titus wasn’t there, but he’d figure something out.

He knocked on the door to Titus’s tent, and Titus invited him in.

“So,” Titus began. “Why are you here?”

“Our camp is a temporary safe haven,” Eroton said. “We are safe here… for now, but what happens when we are no longer safe here? What do we do then? The Sassanids are distracted by our comrades at the moment, but they can only hold out for so long. Once that’s done, the Sassanids will turn their full attention onto us.”

“And we’re all gathered in a single spot,” Titus said. “Which means that they only have to attack one spot. This is bad. This is very, very bad.”

“I see that you understand how bad our situation truly is,” Eroton commented. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Can we do anything?” Titus asked. “There’s still thousands of Sassanids in between us and our camp. We’re still trapped, although we are no longer under siege.”
Eroton began pacing around the tent. Said tent was extremely empty, only consisting of a place to sleep and a place to eat - there wasn’t much else to do in a tent during a battle, even when there was a lull in the fighting.

“What’s our commander doing?” Eroton wondered. Then, he remembered the wounds that the commander of the Legio I Armeniaca had entered their old tent with. “Never mind. That was a stupid question.”

“So, basically, we’re trapped in between enemy lines, and we have no hope of rescue,” Titus summarized. “Well, I guess that means we’re going to have to save ourselves. How are we supposed to do that?”

Eroton frowned. There wasn’t an incredibly obvious solution to their dilemma, but almost every problem could be solved. How could they save themselves?

“I need some time to think on this,” Eroton replied. “I have the barest outline of a plan, but it isn’t very specific. After all, no plan survives contact with the enemy.”
“That’s true,” Titus admitted. “But I would like to know what your plan is anyway. We can work off of it.”

“Very well,” Eroton said. “My plan basically consisted of using darkness as a shield. We managed to get this deep into Sassanid lines by using darkness as cover, so why shouldn’t we be able to get out that way?”

“Because the Sassanids might expect that strategy now,” Titus pointed out. “However, it is a decent beginning of a plan. Let’s talk again once you have a more specific outline.”

Eroton agreed to this, and he left Titus’s tent. He needed to know how they could save themselves. Using night as their cover might work, but it might not. He needed to come up with multiple ideas for how to start off. He could modify them as needed later.

His dreams might hold answers that his waking mind didn’t hold. Yes, he would consider their current dilemma once he had rested.

Eroton had every reason to trust in his dreams. They had helped him many times before, after all. A dream was how he knew to join Titus’s group. There was safety in numbers, of course, but there were many large groups of soldiers after Galerius’s charge had been defeated. His dreams had told him to seek out Titus, and he had done so. That had almost certainly saved his life.

In addition, a dream had led to his saving of Galerius’s life at Siscia. Well, it had alerted him that Galerius’s life was in danger at Siscia, anyway.

In short, his dreams had proven extraordinarily helpful in the past. If he couldn’t figure out a solution to his dilemma while awake, his dreams would probably aid him enough to allow his survival, at the very least.

With that thought, he fell asleep. His suspicions were immediately proven somewhat correct. He dreamed of a battlefield that was empty except for corpses. Corpses littered the area, though, and the area looked red. He also saw walls, but they were as crimson as death.

Eroton deduced that these were Hasakah’s walls, and that the battle had ended. However, he was unsure of who had won the battle, although he did know that casualties were high. He wasn’t sure of what the fate of Hasakah itself was, either.

He saw a foolish charge, although it occurred at night. He only saw this for the briefest of moments, but it told him all that he wanted to know. The Eastern Romans had charged, relying on the darkness of night to shield them from Sassanid eyes. This had failed, but the Eastern Romans hadn’t given up without a fight. They had fought, and many Sassanids had been slaughtered. In the aftermath, the remnants of the Armeniaca had led the rest of the three legions forward in a charge that resulted in the utter slaughter of both armies.

Eroton understood the warning very clearly. Do not charge blindly, even in darkness. That will end only in death for all.

Eroton frowned. This had told him what he shouldn’t do, but not what was actually a good course of action.

As if responding to his thoughts, his dream changed. No longer was he present in a great graveyard, but, rather, he stood next to a river. The river was clear, and it contained only specks of red. These specks could easily have been left over from the First Battle of Hasakah.

The city existed around him. It was night, but it was clear that the city remained in existence. Its walls stood, but they could be bypassed.

Eroton awoke with a start. Its walls stood, but they could be bypassed… the answer lay in that fact, and Eroton knew that. He knew the answer, but it wasn’t presenting itself to him. What was he missing? He knew that he was missing something, but not what.

Wait, there was a river inside of Hasakah. And the walls could be bypassed. Oh. That was… actually a really good idea. It would be difficult to carry out, but, if they could, they could avoid a lot of casualties.

Eroton exited his tent, and he saw that it was still night. The stars glittered above his head, and he was comforted by that. There was still hope of victory, after all. That was the silver lining in all of this. Still, Eroton was worried - he had a bad feeling about this, although there was no reason for it to exist.

As much as Eroton wanted to share his current plan with Titus right now, he suspected Titus was still asleep. That was a good thing, actually, because any sleep they could get at all was excellent. War didn’t often allow time for such luxuries as sleep.

He should probably get more sleep himself actually. He had the answers that he had wanted, but fighting a war while tired was a terrible idea. He went back to his tent, and he immediately fell into a deep sleep.

This time around, his dreams were far less coherent. He saw a great darkness, and he heard a whispering voice. It was soft, but convincing. In response to it, rivers of blood existed… and war reigned unchallenged.

The sun attempted to rise, but it was interrupted. The dawn was marred by darkness. In the shadows, he saw men, and they were holding strings. These strings stretched across the entire planet. Indeed, they enwrapped it.

“Revenge,” a thousand voices whispered. “We will have our revenge, and no one shall stop us!”

All the while, an unseen figure cackled. “Revenge, indeed,” they whispered. “All will be subject to me. They already are, after all.”

After those ominous words were spoken, Eroton awoke. What was he supposed to make of that dream? Was it implying that his will - and, by extent, the will of his comrades - was subject to another’s?

He didn’t have to dwell on that. He needed to talk with Titus, and they needed to plan an escape from in between enemy lines. He could deal with his dreams later, when his life wasn’t on the line.

He exited his tent and noticed that it was barely past dawn. That was good, for it meant that he hadn’t slept for too long…

He decided to head towards the center of the camp. He had heard a rumor that Galerius’s body had arrived in the camp. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was true, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Also, he really needed to talk with Titus. He had a plan, now, but no plan survived contact with the enemy.

As he left his tent, he felt the soft coldness of rain. It was drizzling. Eroton smiled faintly. He could use that, although waiting until it was raining harder might be a good idea. The weather could be an extremely good weapon against any army…

He arrived at the camp’s center, and he saw that Galerius’s corpse was indeed here. He frowned. Why was it here, of all places? It almost looked like a warning - and a threat.

Eroton didn’t stay to dwell on this. Instead, he sought out Titus. He desperately needed to talk with him, if only to ensure that they survived this battle. Death wasn’t a fate that Eroton wanted, even if it was glorious. It was better to live unknown than to die known.

Titus wasn’t near Galerius’s corpse, but that just meant that he was sane - nobody liked to be near death. No sane person, anyway, even if they saw the glory that death could bring. “What?” Titus asked, turning towards him.

Eroton sighed. “I have an idea on how to escape from our… current predicament,” he began carefully. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

“No, we can’t,” Titus agreed, “But what was wrong with your old plan? Other than its vagueness?”

“It was vague, yes,” Eroton acknowledged. “But that wasn’t the problem with that plan. All plans need a certain amount of vagueness. No plan survives contact with the enemy, after all. And there are many things that can’t be predicted.”

“True enough,” Titus admitted. “What is this plan of yours?”

“It’s simple enough,” Eroton began. “We can’t kill our way out of this position, at least not without suffering many deaths ourselves. Luckily, my plan allows a limited amount of casualties, and we won’t have to slaughter the Sassanids.”

“Good,” Titus said. “This war has gone for far too long as it is. Any way to end it will be excellent for both sides.”

“Indeed,” Eroton commented. “All we have to do is sneak into Hasakah itself. We can pass through the city unopposed.”

“That will get us back to our camp,” Titus said. “Which will contribute toward ending this lengthy war. How will we ensure that the Sassanid army doesn’t catch us during our escape into the city, though?”

“We will use night as a cover,” Eroton replied. “The darkness will shield us.”

“Very well, then,” Titus said. “This isn’t a very specific plan, but it works as an outline.”

“One last thing,” Eroton said. “Why do we have Galerius’s corpse? He must’ve died in battle against the Sassanids, but why would they give us his corpse?”
Eroton saw that Titus was considering this. He had meant it was a rhetorical question, but he truly did want an answer, so he stayed. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity but was likely only moments. Finally, Titus responded to his inquiry.

“I imagine that they were making a threat,” he admitted. “Although I am not sure what they believe that will accomplish. They might be attempting to make us show fear.”

“Fear?” Eroton asked. “They have killed our commander, and they want us to know that. Yes, they want us to fear them. But why? And why return the corpse permanently? They could’ve made their point just as much if they simply kept the corpse. In order to make us feel fear from our commander’s death, all they needed to do was show us the corpse. No, they have another motive.”

“I’m assuming that you have a theory as to what that motive is?” Titus asked. “You wouldn’t have brought this up if you didn’t.”

Actually, he brought this up due to natural curiosity, but he did have a theory. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was a correct theory, though.

“They might’ve respected him as a worthy opponent,” he said. “Or they might be saving their own skin. If they tried to show us our commander’s dead corpse, and then attempted to leave with it, would they really believe we would allow that. No, we’d kill them.”

“Fair point,” Titus admitted. “Why is this relevant, though? We should be focusing on escaping and then on actually winning this war. The motives of our enemies shouldn’t matter to us.”

“But they do,” Eroton said. “If we know our enemies, we know their weaknesses and their strengths. It is far easier to win a battle against the enemy you know than against the one you don’t. That may well be one of the reasons why the Sassanid Empire still exists.”

Titus raised an eyebrow. “How?” he asked. “How do you reason that? The Sassanids continue to exist because they have fought us off.”

“And we have fought them off,” Eroton countered. “We have annihilated their armies. We could have taken Persia and Mesopotamia many times, but we rarely actually did. We spared them, and that was by design.”

“What do you mean?” Titus asked. “Are you implying that something is happening that we aren’t aware of?”

“Oh,” Eroton said, amused. “There are many things happening without our permission or our consent. There are many things happening without our knowledge. I can assure you of that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Titus asked.

“The truth lies,” Eroton replied. “The truth always lies.”

On that note, Eroton headed back to his tent. He knew that the shadows hid many things, and they would conceal more by the time this day was done.

 

[HistoryDude]

Eroton had much to think about. He had a plan now, but it was vague, and it might not succeed. He had told Titus that the truth lied, and he knew that that was true. But that raised a question. Which truths lied? Did all of them, or were some truths honest?

He quickly dismissed that thought. It didn’t really matter anyway. There were more pressing matters to deal with. With Galerius dead, somebody would need to command the Legio I Armeniaca - even despite the fact that it was split in half.

He would need to get into Hasakah proper. The army would follow, and this nightmare would finally be over. But that was assuming everything went well, and something almost always went wrong. Oh, he knew the Sassanids, and that helped in planning against them, but it didn’t guarantee his victory. No, victory was found in ability to improvise.

There was no victory from plans. A man could plan all he wished - it would do nothing in the heat of battle. Many men could only think of the fight during a battle. Eroton wasn’t one of those men, and, indeed, most of those men had already died. A man who didn’t think - or even just thought too little - during a battle got himself killed. Eroton knew that firsthand.

Eroton sighed. They would begin their escape when night fell. There was no use pondering on it any more than he already had.

Still, thoughts and plans filled his head throughout the day, but that wasn’t what he was focused when night finally did fall. No, he was focused on escaping. To do that, he needed to find Titus - and a short meeting with Brutus and his companion couldn’t hurt.

The Legio I Armeniaca needed a commander, and it would get one, by the Lord. The younger recruits answered to the older ones. They wouldn’t oppose their choice.

Brutus, his companion, and Titus all arrived at the same time. “Why are we here, Eroton?” Titus asked, ever-blunt.

“We need a commander,” Eroton said. “We are here to discuss that issue. I would prefer if we had one before we attempted our daring escape, which means we don’t have much time.”

“Very well,” Titus responded. “The sun is only just now setting, so we still have some time to decide on this matter, as well as any other that might come up.”
“Why should we decide on a commander?” Brutus interjected. “It’s not like we are the entire legion.”

“We’re short on time,” Titus snapped. “We need to choose a commander very quickly, and men will follow us. It might not be normal, but this won’t be official until we get word of Galerius’s death back to the Emperor anyway.”

“Yes,” Eroton agreed. “And we need to escape, if not now, then soon. That will be far easier to do with a commander than without. If we don’t have a commander, we have no one to unite this camp.”

“Fair point,” Brutus acknowledged. “But who should command?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? In all honesty, all three of them had qualities that would be useful to a commander. The problem was that nobody seemed to want the position. Eroton could understand why - being the commander of the Legio I Armeniaca meant many responsibilities, and no one wanted those. Not to mention the fact that both of the previous commanders had died in battle, and it had been their own fault… to an extent.

Still, somebody had to lead, and a commander must be chosen. It wasn’t clear who that would be, though, and time was running out. They needed to pick a commander by tomorrow’s nightfall, although today’s would be preferable. They needed to escape before they were too trapped to do so.

Eroton sighed. They really didn’t have time for this. They needed a commander, of course, but they needed to escape far more. They couldn’t let the Sassanids eliminate what little remnants of the original Legio I Armeniaca there still were. That would be an unmitigated disaster, and the assured end of the Armenian Legion for eons to come.

“We need a commander,” Eroton snapped. “And we need one now. We don’t have a choice. A few men will only follow a man who is officially the commander of the Legio I Armeniaca, and we need to get everyone out of the Sassanid lines. We are trapped between enemy lines, and we have the option to get out of that situation. We need to take it!”

“Carpe Diem,” Titus murmured, uncharacteristically vague. “Carpe Diem.”

“Are either of you going to volunteer?” Brutus asked. “As Eroton said, we don’t have much time, and we’ve been arguing about this for a while.”

Titus shut his eyes. “If no one else will agree to command,” he began. “I will. I have some experience, anyway. I will not enjoy it, but necessity holds no law.”

No one objected or volunteered to command themselves, and so it was decided. Titus would become the new commander of the Legio I Armeniaca, but there was still a very pressing question that needed to be answered.

Eroton finally voiced what everyone was thinking. “So,” he said. “Are we going to begin our escape tonight, or will we wait until tomorrow’s night dawns? I personally don’t care, but I think you three might care.”

At that moment, Brutus’s companion finally made himself known. “Tonight,” he said, and that was all.

Everyone agreed - or, rather, no one argued. No one liked the position that they were currently in. On that note, the meeting adjourned.

Eroton began preparing as soon as the meeting ended. He needed to get the escape started as quickly as he could. After all, everybody would either be dead - or, worse, prisoners - if that failed. Eroton wasn’t about to let that happen.

Still, he couldn’t afford to mess this up, so he would’ve preferred to take more time to plan. Unfortunately, they didn’t have more time, as night was dawning. They had until dawn to put their plan into action. They had decided to not delay a night. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, they were effectively under siege and needed to escape, but, on the other, they couldn’t afford to screw this up.

If they could get into the city, they could follow the river. It wasn’t that complicated. Unfortunately, that was a big if. Eroton knew that he was going to have to make a lot of snap decisions. Just as he thought this, he heard a knock on his tent’s door.

“Come in,” he called.

Titus entered. “We’re preparing to make our escape now,” he said. “I really hope that this works. I don’t know what will happen if it doesn’t.”

“It’ll work,” Eroton assured him, as he got up. “If things go wrong, we can always improvise. If things don’t go wrong, then we will be back at our camp, safely, by dawn.”

“And if we can’t improvise?” Titus asked. “What would happen if we can’t escape? Aren’t we prisoners, then? That would be a disaster!”

Eroton got up and looked Titus right in the eye. “I’m not going to lie,” he began. “Yes, that would be disastrous. However, the chances of it happening are relatively low. This isn’t a guaranteed success, but it’s incredibly likely to fail, either. Trust us and yourself. We’ll be fine.”

And, with that, he got up. The two men left the tent together, and the escape truly began.


Next time, the escape attempt begins, and both sides make dangerous gambles... Stay tuned!

 

[HistoryDude]

Eroton made it to the walls of Hasakah without incident. Titus, Brutus, and the army followed. For the briefest of moments, Eroton allowed himself to hope that his plan had succeeded without unintended consequences. Night was a good cover, after all, so the Sassanids hadn’t spotted them?

That hope was quickly destroyed like a wave devouring a ship. The guards refused to allow them into the city. Eroton could see why they might be suspicious, of course, but they didn’t have time for this. Still, it looked like he was going to have to be the one negotiating with them for passage into a city that was still Eastern Roman. He knew that Hasakah hadn’t fallen, and it wasn’t really under siege. That made the guards’s reluctance weird, but it was possible that they were being cautious.

There was another possibility, of course, but Eroton really didn’t want to consider that. He remembered Siscia, of course, but it hadn’t made him paranoid. Some days, he thought that Galerius was overreacting to Siscia, but he knew where he was coming from. Gold was a very good motivator - to any person.

Wait… gold was a good motivator. It was possible that these guards were being bribed by the Sassanids to not allow them to pass, but that only meant that they were greedy. Eroton could capitalize on that greed. In order to pass, all he needed to do was offer them more gold than whatever the Sassanids had offered them.

Unfortunately, that was far easier said than done. For one thing, Eroton didn’t even know how much the Sassanids were paying these guards - if they even were being bribed. To add to his troubles, he wasn’t in command of the Legio I Armeniaca. The official leader of this legion was dead, and the acting legion was Titus, which meant that Eroton had to find Titus, and he had to do it quickly. If he couldn’t do that… well, it wouldn’t be pretty, to say the least.

All of this ran through his head quickly, and, then, he quickly realized that he had barely a clue where Titus even was. He absolutely didn’t have time for this. They needed to escape, and they needed to do so now. Unfortunately, it seemed as if whoever commanded this Sassanid army was more cunning than they had thought.

Okay, so where might Titus be? Eroton didn’t know the exact spot, but he did know Titus. He should be able to deduce where Titus was at the moment.

Titus was in command, and he wasn’t the type to abandon his comrades. Eroton knew that much. Titus would fight with them, if things came to battle. Still, that wasn’t very helpful as to where he was right now. Still, Titus wouldn’t abandon his army without due cause, and he led from the front. That meant that he had to be somewhere on the front lines. Thankfully, that was where he was at the moment. Of course, that wasn’t actually that helpful.

Still, Eroton had to try. He surveyed the once-scattered remnants of the original Legio I Armeniaca. Many looked starved, and many were covered in blood. Briefly, Eroton felt a surge of anger, but he pushed that down. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. He spotted Titus after some time. That was the good news. The bad news was that Titus was on the other side of the army. Eroton was currently on the edges of the right flank of this makeshift army. Titus was on the edges of the left flank.

Eroton cussed. He could get to Titus, but it wouldn’t be easy. There was technically an army between them, even if it was an army friendly to them. The situation could be worse - the army between them could have been a Sassanid army - but this was still a very bad situation.

Well, he might as well get started on reaching Titus. If he couldn’t do that, then the Legio I Armeniaca was going to be trapped here. They would be easy targets, and everybody here would either be captured or killed. Eroton couldn’t allow that to happen. The night wasn’t eternal, as much as he wished this night, in particular, was.

He moved, and he tried so silently. He trusted the men that he had been with for days and most of the original Legio I Armeniaca, but he knew that some had faltered. They hadn’t abandoned their legion, but they had considered doing so. And spies could be anywhere. This is what he told himself the reason for his attempt at excessive stealth was, but the true reason was to avoid alerting the Sassanids of where he was.

It was quite some time before he had managed to reach the makeshift army’s left flank and even longer before he finally found Titus. Thankfully, Titus spotted him quickly. “Why are you here?” he asked Eroton.

“We have a problem,” Eroton responded. “The guards won’t let us through. I suspect that they’re being bribed by the Sassanids. There isn’t any concrete proof of that, of course, but why else would they not allow us through? It’s possible that they believe us Sassanids, but that is unlikely.”

“Why?” Titus asked. “Why is that so unlikely? We are an army, and we have come from territory that is known to belong to the Sassanids. As much as I hate to say this, as much as I hate to be compared to a Persian, they have every reason to believe us Sassanids.”

“At first,” Eroton began, unsurely. “I thought that as well. As such, I attempted to prove that this was not an army of Sassanids, that we were not an army of Sassanids. They still refused to let us pass. We aren’t allowed to enter the city, and we must do so. As much as I hate to admit it, the guards having been bribed is the best situation for us. If they were not…”.

“What if they were not?” Titus asked. “Why is betrayal due to gold the best situation for us?”

“The alternatives are really bad,” Eroton said plainly. “If they have betrayed us due to gold, we cannot trust them, yes, but we can outbid the Sassanids. If they aren’t letting us in because they believe that we are Sassanids, then it is unlikely that we will be able to convince them otherwise. If they aren’t letting us in, and they haven’t been paid, that means that they have outright us all, and, if we don’t know why, we can’t do anything about it.”

“In short, our situation is really bad,” Titus summed up, blunt as always. “We need to get past, and we won’t be able to pass if the Sassanids aren’t bribing the few people guarding Hasakah’s walls. We must hope that men have given into greed, and, if they have not, then, we are doomed. Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t have the authority to negotiate with the people guarding this city,” Eroton responded. “I don’t command what little remains of this legion. Of course, the one who officially commands this legion is dead, but you are acting commander. You have the authority to negotiate. I do not.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking about negotiation,” Titus said. “If these so-called guards will not let us through, then we should kill them and force our way into the city. We shouldn’t reward treason.”

“What other choice do we have?” Eroton snapped. “We are using darkness as our cover, and that darkness is not eternal. We’re running out of time, and we cannot get caught.”

“And a battle would be quick,” Titus snapped back. “The night is yet young. We can defeat them and enter the city quickly.”

“We can’t do that undetected,” Eroton replied. “We need to enter Hasakah stealthily, and a battle isn’t stealthy. Any Sassanid soldier who was awake would notice, and it could even wake some of the soldiers in the Sassanid army that are asleep. It’s much too risky, and we can’t take that risk unless we must. Attacking them should be a last resort.”

“Very well, then,” Titus said. “We will attempt negotiations, and a battle will be our backup plan, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I don’t like it, but we do what we must.”

“Amen to that,” Eroton murmured. “Now, come. We have negotiations to conduct, as much as we wish that we didn’t.”

Eroton gets up, and Titus follows. They arrive at the walls of Hasakah, and Titus demands that the guards let them pass. Eroton wonders if Titus simply didn’t believe him, or if he is in denial. It didn’t matter, and the guards still refused.

“Why?” Titus asked. The guards looked confused, but Eroton wondered why he didn’t ask them that himself. He had simply come up with reasons why they might have refused to allow this remnant of a legion to pass. But he hadn’t asked, and that might have been a mistake.

The head guard simply took gold coins out of his pocket. That explained everything. He had been right - they had been bribed. Still, something felt wrong. Even when Odoacer had tried to bribe the entirety of two legions at Siscia (and how it hurt to remember that), there had been honest men - loyal men. It made no sense that all of the men who were guarding Hasakah were disloyal.

Hasakah should have held. Eroton didn’t believe that it had fallen. It wasn’t famous for holding - not famous like some other cities that he had fought at were, but the Sassanids weren’t attacking the city. If they had been, then he could see being barred from Hasakah’s walls, but the Sassanids had been under attack, and they hadn’t attacked before then. They cared nothing for the city.

“How much did they pay you?” Titus asked. “How much did they pay you for your betrayal of your empire? You were entrusted with guarding this city, and, if you were paid to do so, I have no doubt that you would open the gates in a second. Let us pass, or would you have us pay you as well?”

The leader of the guards sputtered at that, and Eroton saw some of the other guards exchange uneasy glances. Oh. That made much more sense. Only a select few of the guards knew of the deception. The rest had probably actually thought that they were Sassanids.

Eroton thought that he might’ve heard a curse from somewhere, but it might’ve been his imagination. The guards agreed to let the legion pass for free, although that was probably because around half of the guards were glaring at their leader.

Unfortunately, the damage was done. The small remnant of the original Legio I Armeniaca began to cross, and Eroton moved to the back of the army. He would guard the army’s back, and he wouldn’t enter Hasakah until the entire legion had crossed.

At first, the crossing occurred without problems. Much of the army had already passed, but Eroton knew that dawn was coming. Once it came, they would lose their cover of darkness. If most of the army had already passed, this shouldn’t have been a problem, but Eroton was worried anyway.

As it turned out, these worries weren’t unfounded. He looked over at the Sassanid camp, and, then, he realized that it looked empty. That realization came too late, however, and he barely had time to shout a warning to the few men who hadn’t crossed into the city.

Few of those men heard him, and even fewer cared. If they had, perhaps things could’ve been different, but Eroton wasn’t about to dwell on what could have been.

The Sassanids had attacked.

They had attacked the back of the remnants of the first Legio I Armeniaca. That had been what Eroton had been attempting to warn his comrades about, but it had been no use. The few that hadn’t crossed were now engaged in a desperate fight for their lives.

Eroton drew his sword and attacked the Sassanids. His blade slashed and stabbed, but he wasn’t Galerius or Demetrius. He killed, but he didn’t kill many people at once. He would be overrun soon, and he knew that.

He muttered a curse. He had suspected the truth about why the guards wouldn’t let him through, but he hadn’t thought about - or he had willfully ignored - what that meant. It meant that the Sassanids had dealt with the guards recently. He couldn’t have known about when they made the deal, but he should have suspected something. He should’ve known that the commander of the Sassanid forces wouldn’t have bribed the men guarding Hasakah without a reason.
It was too late to dwell on such things, though, and such thoughts quickly fled from his mind. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He had to focus all of his attention on merely staying alive.

Even so, he knew that he would be overrun soon enough. The Sassanid army vastly outnumbered the small number of men who hadn’t managed to cross into Hasakah. They couldn’t hold, but they couldn’t escape, either. If they attempted a retreat, it would have to be into Hasakah, but they had no way of knowing that the Sassanids wouldn’t be able to follow them there. Eroton heavily suspected that they would attempt to do so, at least.

Eroton sighed. He was trapped between an army and a city, a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t allow the Sassanids to enter Hasakah. He had to buy his comrades time. And, with that thought, he shut his eyes, and his blade attacked the Sassanids.

He didn’t believe that he would survive, but he needed to get his former comrades to safety. They had all run headlong into this, but they were only following orders. He shouldn’t fault them for that. He needed to buy them time.

And he did. Almost a hundred Sassanids lay dead from his blade, but he doubted it would be enough. The Sassanid army was large - they could afford losses. The few men of the Legio I Armeniaca who were still stranded outside of Hasakah could not.

All of these thoughts came to him as he had finally been punctured by a blade. It had hit his heart, but it had come close, and Eroton suspected that he wouldn’t survive the night. But, then, this entire plan was always a longshot. He hoped that this had bought his comrades enough time to escape, but he didn’t know that it had. That was the worst thing - the lack of knowledge.

He collapsed after that, and he suspected that he would be a prisoner even if he survived, but, again, he didn’t know. The battle could’ve ended, but he did not dare to hope. After that thought, all he sees is inky blackness.

Then, suddenly, he felt pain. It was pain as he had never before known - excruciating pain - but it was pain. Pain was good. Pain was knowing that he was alive. But where was he?

That thought quickly ended his brief euphoria. Yes, indeed, where was he? Why was he awake? Was he a prisoner? Had he been brought back to the remnants of the legion - the legion that he had almost died to save? That would’ve been the best option, but he was rarely lucky. There was no way that he was that lucky. The Lord wasn’t nearly so kind.

Then, he heard a voice. “He’s still alive,” it said, in what sounded like a tone of disbelief.

That was true enough. He didn’t yet know if death would’ve been kinder. Death would mean an end to his suffering, yes, but it would also mean an abandonment of his post - for the rest of time. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, and, for once, he didn’t want a question that he had thought of answered.

Then, he heard a familiar voice. It was Titus’s, and he could almost weep in relief. He wasn’t a prisoner, any more than he had always been. He suspected that someone had saved him, but he doubted that the danger was past.

And there was that sinking feeling that he had only been saved because he was important, that he was trapped in a gilded cage. He quickly dismissed that thought. If he was trapped in a gilded cage, then he had always been so, and what would freedom even feel like? No. He would continue to serve, as he always had. He would plan, and he would grant the Eastern Roman Empire victory.

“Where are we?” he asked. His words came out raspy, and his throat was raw. His stomach was still in pain.

“Dawn came,” Titus said. “We are in Hasakah proper, and the Sassanids have contented themselves with the deaths of those who weren’t able to cross into the city itself. The guards shut the gates after that, but I noticed a gleam in the eye of the leader of the men guarding Hasakah. I don’t believe that that bodes well.”

Eroton bit back a curse. He knew that at least some of the guards were up to something, but he didn’t know what that was. Also, he thought of why the Sassanids had bribed the guards. He was wounded, and he could do little else. He was so lost in his mind that he barely noticed it when Titus left wherever he was.

What were the Sassanids planning? And did they succeed in what they wanted to do? The majority of the people who had survived the initial separation had survived, yes, but the Sassanids had managed to kill many men. Heck, they even almost managed to kill him. Still, they hadn’t succeeded with that, and everyone with any authority had survived. At first glance, it seemed as if the Sassanids got nothing that they wanted, but first glances could be deceiving.

Really, the only major thing that the Sassanids had achieved that might have majorly benefitted them was the death of Galerius. The Legio I Armeniaca was technically without a commander, but that hadn’t majorly damaged the legion. Was that what the Sassanids wanted? A breakdown in authority? If it was, then they had failed epically.

Still, there were other explanations. The current situation wasn’t really that bad for the Sassanids. It wasn’t great, obviously, but it wasn’t bad. What was the Sassanids’s play here? What were they trying to do? The obvious goal was to destroy the three legions, but the obvious option was rarely correct.

Furthermore, none of the actions of the Sassanid army made any sense if that was their goal. It was still technically possible if the commander of the Sassanids was a total idiot, but Eroton highly doubted that. If the commander was an idiot, then he wouldn’t have survived the initial attack. The army wouldn’t have survived the initial attack.




Again, another reminder to vote in the Q3 ACAs! Also, this update officially brings our word count to 100,000+ words, but we're far from done. Stay tuned!

 

[HistoryDude]

What did the Sassanids want here? And how did they plan on getting it? There were so many questions and so few answers.

Eroton hadn’t considered this before. That wasn’t weird, though - there had been no time to consider things. He had time now, though, and he didn’t know whether or not he liked that. He could attempt to figure out the motivations of his enemies all he wanted - he wasn’t going to get a clear answer.

In short, he had to wait… and to hope. Still, knowing possible plans of the Sassanids could be helpful… assuming that they weren’t simply making things up on the fly. That was still possible, if unlikely.

The good news was that the Sassanids would need time before they went on the attack after this. All of the momentum was with the Eastern Romans, even if the Legio I Armeniaca was almost totally crippled. He suspected that a stalemate might follow this. Idly, Eroton wondered what Galerius had been thinking when he led this charge. Was it supposed to be a distraction?

If so, it hadn’t succeeded that well. The Sassanids had lost many men, of course, but so had those who had attacked them. That decision didn’t make any sense if this was meant to be a distraction. Unless… Oh. That was… actually a pretty good plan. But, if Galerius was trying to buy time, why was time something they needed? That didn’t make sense unless reinforcements were coming…

Eroton shut his eyes. If reinforcements were coming, the war could be over soon. Very soon. Still, they still needed to escape. They were in Hasakah, but how could they get back to their camp? Eroton knew where that camp was, but they needed to cross the length of Hasakah to get there, and the rump legion seemed fine staying where they were.

He needed to talk to Titus. That would be far easier to do if he wasn’t too wounded to move.

Thankfully, Titus had apparently realized that he was decent at planning, at least when a quick plan was needed. He approached him of his own accord.

“Hello, Eroton,” Titus said.

Eroton rolled his eyes. “I know you want something,” he said. “Go on. Ask your questions. I have all day.”

Titus sighed. “Yes, I suppose you do,” he commented. “But we don’t have time to dwell on that. What are the Sassanids planning? And why did they let us escape so easily?”

“I wouldn’t call our escape easy,” Eroton said dryly. “They did bribe the guards of the city to delay us. However, it is true that none of them followed them into Hasakah, and that makes little sense… Unless they were planning something. They could simply have been trying to make us afraid, but I doubt that. They risked far too much for this to be a mere fear tactic.”

Titus frowned. “What’s their game, then? If this isn’t a fear tactic, what is it?” he questioned. “It can’t be an outright attack, or they would have tried harder to enter the city. And I know that they’re planning something, I want to know what that is!”

Eroton raised his hand placatingly. “I know,” he said. “What I’m saying is that I’m certain of what their plans are. However, I do have an idea of them - or, at the very least, a theory.”
“That’s good enough,” Titus snapped. “All we need is something to work with.”

“That’s good, as that’s all that we have,” Eroton replied. “It is probable that the Sassanids are trying to force a battle inside Hasakah. That would allow them to have an advantage, as we won’t be able to easily cause discord in their ranks.”

“It’s not like we were able to cause discord in their ranks in the previous battle,” Titus responded.

“Except we were,” Eroton countered. “The Sassanids couldn’t form lines or have a formation of any kind because we were in the middle of their camp. We were trapped inside their camp, yes, but that prevented from employing a formation because we were separated from each other. Any formation that they attempted to make would collapse. If they let us escape as one unit, then they would only have one unit to fight, and they could create a formation.”

“That seems like an extremely cunning plan,” Titus mused. “Do you truly believe that the Sassanids could be that cunning? And, if they can, why weren’t they more cunning before now? Surely, an opponent as cunning as the one you describe could have easily defeated us before now.”

“Unless they didn’t want to,” Eroton pointed out. “And nothing is ever set in stone. Even the most cunning planner can easily be undone by those who he remains unaware of. The best strategy is, naturally, to simply have an extremely vague plan - if you must have one at all. Make things up on the fly.”

“That sounds… unstrategic,” Titus said. “The problem is that your reasoning is sound. Still, can you elaborate on your theory?”

“Yes,” Eroton said. “Defeating us inside of Hasakah will allow them to take the city as well as destroy most of a legion. If they have control of the city, then they can easily use that to defeat the rest of our legion and the other two legions. It wouldn’t be that difficult to pull off.”

Titus frowned. “How would they use possession of the city to defeat our army?” he asked.

“They would control the city,” Eroton responded simply. “Both of our camps are outside of the city. They could attack us from two directions. At the moment, we control the city, and this move would be good - but I doubt that that is the only reason that they would attempt to take Hasakah. In truth, it is likely that they fear that we will use our possession of the city to defeat them. In theory, we could do that, but that is a discussion for another time.”

“I see,” Titus said. “Thank you for your time. I’ll have medics repair your legs. We need to have someone capable of thinking on the fly in order to win. Even if we didn’t, that would be incredibly helpful.” And, with that statement, he left Eroton’s tent. That left Eroton alone with his thoughts.

Eroton thought about the plans of the Sassanids. Everything that he told his commander was true, but he was almost certain that their fear contributed to their decision far more than the benefit that they would get from the city. Fear was always the strongest motivator.

Still, that didn’t explain much. He and his comrades had never actually used the fact that they technically controlled the city in this battle at all. The Sassanids knew that, so why did they think that the three legions would use that now? It made no sense, or, at least, it made no sense at first glance.
It was extremely likely that the Sassanids just wanted the battle - and the war - to be over. It was likely that they were tired. Normally, this would be excellent news, but the Eastern Romans were tired too. They wanted to end the war.

Both sides were likely to get their wish soon. Eroton sighed. He could do nothing about that for now… but he hoped that he got to participate in the battle to come - he hoped that his commander would keep his word.

If he didn’t - either out of deliberate malice or because of forgetfulness - then Eroton would be forced to watch a battle, and he could do nothing in it. Oh, he could talk, but what good would that do? Words did nothing. He had no intention of allowing his comrades to become lambs - lambs to the slaughter.

He might as well get some sleep before the battle began. He would need to be well-rested before the return began.

His dreams were filled with messages that he didn’t understand. He saw blood, but he couldn’t tell who it was from, and he saw an army crashing into a wall, but he couldn’t know where the army was from. In short, his dreams were completely useless, but, then, he hadn’t expected them to be helpful.

When he awoke, he attempted to stand. To his shock, he could. That meant that Titus was actually serious about him being useful in the fight to come.

Unfortunately, it also meant that that fight was going to occur extremely soon. Well, if that was true, he might as well prepare for it.

He thought on how the Sassanids might choose to attack them. He realized that they would need to cross Hasakah’s walls no matter what, but Eroton wasn’t so naive as to believe that the full force of the Sassanids could be stopped there. No, that would be utter folly. Still, he did believe that they could be delayed there, giving time for the remnant of those who had charged with Galerius to make plans. After all, the more plans a person had, the more options they had, and the man with the most options was almost invariably the victor in battle.

As soon as he finished thinking this, he noticed that he was being approached by Titus. “Is it time, then?” he asked his commander. The response he got was decidedly affirmative.

Titus instructed him to stay in their temporary camp. Titus told him that they needed to keep order in the camp while they were gone. Eroton quickly agreed to stay, as he deduced that Titus was leading men in defense of Hasakah’s walls. Nobody was really needed to keep order in the camp, but Eroton knew that Titus wanted to give his leg time to heal.

Eroton didn’t want to do nothing, though, so he settled on planning how to ensure that the escape of the scant remnants of the Legio I Armeniaca was successful. He knew that the walls of the city wouldn’t hold, but the battle there would buy him time to plan.

He didn’t expect the Sassanids to actually kill many of the soldiers defending Hasakah’s walls, either. He expected the battle at the wall to affect… absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

No, his comrades would retreat back to his tent, and the true battle that would decide the fate of the Legio I Armeniaca’s remnants would probably occur near the river. Well, that was what Eroton hoped - he knew how to fight battles along rivers. If he had to fight in the streets of Hasakah, there might be a problem.

Eroton shut his eyes. He hated this, but Titus was right in that his leg did need healing. That fact didn’t make his wait any less boring, though. Eroton hated feeling useless.

Eroton worried about the outcome of the battle at the wall for hours. Indeed, he worried about it until Titus actually returned to their camp, with most of the men who had left with him at his side.

Despite the lack of casualties, Titus didn’t bring good news. No, he brought the news that Eroton’s theory had been completely correct. Eroton got up. He knew that his leg probably still needed more time to heal, but they didn’t have more time. The battle that was extremely likely to decide everything was here, and Eroton had no intention of missing it. If he died, then he died, but he would not go down without a fight.

Eroton suggested to Titus that they attempt to trap the Sassanids between the Eastern Romans and the river. Titus agreed, despite the extreme risk inherent in doing that. Eroton didn’t know exactly why Titus agreed to his idea, but he imagined that it was because everything had a risk - and the greater the risk was, the greater the reward could be.

Eroton moved toward the river with the rest of the survivors. If this failed, much of a legion would be lost forever. If it succeeded, however, the Sassanids would be left in a position that was very unfavorable to them. The entire battle at Hasakah came down to this, and Eroton knew that. They could not lose.

The Sassanids attacked at dawn.

 

[HistoryDude]

Short update here...


Eroton had been expecting this. Actually, he had expected them to attack at night, as the Eastern Romans had earlier. Apparently, that wasn’t their style. Eroton figured that that was probably because they figured night attacks were against the rules of accepted war... which was pretty much completely true, but also shouldn’t matter, considering that the Eastern Romans clearly weren’t abiding by those rules.

Regardless, the Eastern Romans were prepared for this. They fought with all of their might. Everybody knew that losing here would mean death or imprisonment.

At first, Eroton managed to stay away from the battle’s main action. Still, he knew how quickly the tides of battle could turn, so he had his sword out anyway. If the battle made it to him, he needed to be able to face it. Relying on everything going “right” or according to plan was a recipe for disaster and death.

The wisdom of this would quickly be proven. A few men managed to spot an opening in the Eastern Roman lines, and they took it. Eroton fought them, and those that weren’t killed were forced back. The gap in the Eastern Roman lines was quickly closed.

After that, the line in front of Eroton held. It held for the entirety of the battle, and, soon, there was an opening in the Sassanid lines. Eroton was unsure of why this opening existed. His first impression was that the Sassanids were simply breaking up. However, that was put into question by the fact that the opening was never closed, and no Eastern Romans took advantage of it.

Eroton thought that that was a prudent move. The Sassanids wouldn’t have kept such an opening open for that long unless it was a trap. Thankfully, the remnants of the Legio I Armeniaca were smarter than to fall for that trick.

Eventually, the Sassanids realized this, but, by that time, it was far too late. The Eastern Roman soldiers had opened many more gaps in the Sassanid lines. To their credit, the Sassanids knew when a battle was lost, and they retreated.

Eroton let a brief sigh of relief at that. He had been worried about that battle, although that worry had proven to be increasingly irrational.

After that, the remnants of the Legio I Armeniaca made good their escape. Finally, at long last, they arrived at their camp.

Eroton slept in an actual tent for the first time he could remember that night, and he was immensely relieved. Unfortunately, his sleep was far from peaceful.

Demons invaded his dreams. He remembered horrors, and he couldn’t stop remembering, as much as he wanted to. He longed for his dreams to be filled with something else. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but could have been as short as a minute, his dreams changed.

He saw blood build a throne. And he saw blood rip that same throne apart. Then, he woke up in a cold sweat.

What was that dream supposed to mean? Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to think about it too much. He was partially safe, but the Battle of Hasakah had not been finished. The Sassanid army hadn’t been destroyed - and they no longer had to deal with an army behind their lines. Eroton knew that the plan was to wait, but he knew not what the Eastern Roman army was waiting for.

Deep down, he knew that that particular fact didn’t matter. They were waiting for something, and that was all he needed to know. Still, that didn’t sate his curiosity. He wondered if Titus knew. Galerius had, but the dead could share no information.

Eroton got up. He might as well ask Titus. He wasn’t guaranteed an answer, but it was better than doing nothing at all.

It was at that moment that he received a letter from Titus, asking to meet with him - and a few others - in his tent. Eroton smiled. This would be a good opportunity to ask his question - and to begin to make his own plans.

When Eroton arrived at Titus’s tent, Titus was alone. He was waiting on a few other leading men within the Armeniaca - he needed to have his election to leadership of the legion confirmed.

Eroton and Titus made small talk while they waited. Eroton figured that every man of influence should know of what the plan was, so he refrained from asking that question.

It didn’t take long for the other men of influence to arrive, and Eroton was grateful for that. Eroton wasn’t aware of which influential men in the Legio I Armeniaca were even still alive. He hated not having that information, but he figured that he wouldn’t have to wait to know for that long.

He assumed that the new (interim) commander of the legion had chosen to surround himself with those he knew, so he would probably recognize most of the influential men that remained. Of course, that was probably the majority of men who survived from Galerius’s Charge at all. That charge might have been successful, but Eroton had no clue why they had charged, so he couldn’t know how successful it was.

It was possible that everything had been for naught.

 

[HistoryDude]

More normal updates should start coming right about... now.



Albinus paced. Where was the freaking Legio I Armeniaca? He wanted to have all the information that he could get. That wasn’t strictly necessary, but he sorely disliked variables. They could mess up his plans, and he preferred to have his plans succeed. Still, he could adapt his plans if the situation called for it. The problem here was that he had no clue where the Legio I Armeniaca was or where they could be at all.

He let out a curse under his breath. Okay, where were the possibilities as to the missing Legion’s location? He had heard that Galerius had charged at the Sassanids, and he did have a very faint recollection of that happening, but that didn’t explain much. A simple charge would have ended by now, regardless of whether or not the charge had succeeded.

This was made even more confusing by the fact that the commander of the Legio I Armeniaca had left most of the new recruits for that legion behind. That implied that Galerius had been intending to return. He couldn’t have just suicidally marched off to the center of the Sassanid ranks. Albinus was sure his friend had better self-preservation instincts than that. Getting trapped in the center of an enemy army was a recipe for disaster.

Still, if he had done that, it would explain why the majority - the veterans - of the Legio I Armeniaca were missing in action. It was an explanation, but it wasn’t a satisfactory one. Galerius was smarter than that, so he had to know that doing so would likely mean his death.

He had to know that doing so would likely mean his death.

Galerius had seemed… more subdued during this battle. Albinus had thought that it was probably the fact that the Battle of Hasakah was far longer than the previous battles that he had fought in. It was, however, possible that it wasn’t. If something else was bothering his… comrade? Co-commander? Friend? If something else was bothering Galerius, then Albinus wanted to know what it was.

Unfortunately, Galerius was missing. If he was anywhere, he was trapped behind enemy lines. Albinus wanted to believe that he was still alive because he could still be useful to Albinus’s plan. He could handle the Eastern Roman Empire’s military defense, which meant that Albinus wouldn’t have to command and govern a territory at the same time. That wouldn’t be easy.

Why did he care about what was easy now? He hadn’t cared about that before. He could command just fine without Galerius, but he had come to value his fellow commander’s council. He had been somewhat intelligent. Still, the far more important problem was the majority of a legion’s absence. They couldn’t all be dead, even if some were. A legion of the Romans was not so easily destroyed.

Inside Albinus’s heart, though, there was doubt. Roman legions had been destroyed before - and their destruction was always a portent of disaster. The Parthian destruction of a few legions had led to the destruction of the First Triumvirate and destroyed the already fragile peace between Caesar and Pompey. The instability that resulted from that took decades to overcome. Other than that, three legions had been destroyed at Teutoburg Forest, and Germania Magna had been lost forever. Its inhabitants had eventually brought about the fall of the Western Empire. Nothing good ever happened when a legion was destroyed.

That was why Albinus refused to believe that the Legio I Armeniaca had been effectively destroyed. If it had, this battle was as good as lost and Hasakah with it. The rest of the Eastern Roman military could hypothetically beat the Sassanids back anyway, but that hypothesis was based on numbers alone, and battles were won by more than just numbers. Morale mattered just as much, and the loss of a legion would destroy any morale the Eastern Roman legions had.

That couldn’t be allowed. Sharing his suspicions with anybody would also likely lead to the same result, regardless of the truth of things. If the Eastern Roman army retreated from Hasakah, and the majority of the Legio I Armeniaca hadn’t perished, then they were likely to perish anyway if he shared his suspicions. It was a risk that he couldn’t take. If he had to omit information from everyone else, then so be it.

Still, clarifying his plans with Clementius and whoever commanded the members of the Legio I Armeniaca that hadn’t left would be a good idea. He needed to make it explicitly clear that the army needed to stay put. Retreating would be a terrible option, especially considering that reinforcements were going to arrive soon.

Ignorance was bliss, of course, but knowledge was power. This information needed to be shared, and he needed to have a backup plan in case a legion had been destroyed. As much as he dreaded even doing so little as thinking about it, there was still the possibility that the majority of a legion was destroyed.

Consider all variables you know, he remembered Demetrius telling him. Consider all variables you know and plan for everything that could come from them.