Mettermrck

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stynlan: Sidonius was a gem to read about, thanks. It gives me some perspective on the mindset on the Roman aristocracy in that era. Too bad he dies right before where my story is. It would've been a nice cameo. I found a cool site here that discusses him somewhat.

Darks63: Either that or I'm the author of strife, and Remus is the victim. :) You know me, I like unsettling tension in my world.

Stuyvestant: I have a framework plan in mind, which I add to as I write and come up with ideas. Or sometimes people mention that something that gives me more storylines to add (stynlan and Sidonius for example). But the mechanics or the plan in my head, I still haven't fully figured it out.

TC Pilot: That's a good possibility, depending on who prevails in the civil war. Remus by himself will have a tough time overcoming the tribes in Gallia.

Petrarca: That's what I've been thinking about too, what Clovis' religious outcome will be. You still got many Arian tribes around the Franks, and a Catholic Rome...I guess it depends on where my story places him and his people when the time comes.

Lord E: Well, right now it's off to Lugdunum and a date with Gundobad. Maybe I can study some more and portray a Romano-barbarian culture in its infancy, but it's difficult to find enough tangible information and flesh it out. Part of the challenge, I guess. :)

cthulhu: Thank you, sir! Now go back to your AAR and update. ;)

Avernite: Remus never does things the easy way. I remember early in this AAR, when I mentioned how I wanted the story to have plenty of setbacks to balance the implausibility of the Western empire reasserting itself. Hopefully I've portrayed it decently enough so that it's not too fantastical.

VILenin: Thank you, yes that paragraph came up after I had finished, and I wanted to get into his head a little bit more, give him a good military bearing even in the midst of the cultural and terrain descriptions.

Sir Humphrey: Thank you, sir!

Midgardmetal: I'm glad to hear that. And it's finally coming soon....
 

Mettermrck

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gallic0mt.jpg


The lightness of their captivity marveled Remus at times, and he wondered if it derived from an assurance that here, in now-barbarian Gaul, three Romans were ill fit to escape. Or perhaps, he thought, it was the manner of the Burgundians themselves. Around them, as Gundomar’s band of horsemen rode westward towards Lugdunum, was a scene far less military than he had envisioned from these people. They caroused, they joked, they sang, they ate from their packs, all without officers to keep them in line. Indeed, any sense of a hierarchy or command structure was absent, save for Gundomar himself, who rode prominently some distance ahead of them. Every man seemed an equal, and many times he spotted warriors ribbing their commander with gusto, causing Gundomar to roar with laughter or cuff the man jovially. Their manner was hearty, if Remus had been disposed to be kind. The art of bathing was lost on them, their dress shabby and their unkempt. And these, he thought morosely, were one of the tribes that had overrun the west. These were the inheritors of Rome?

eagles1532lz.jpg

Then his eyes studied their weaponry, and some of his doubts began to clear. Compared to their ragged tunics and rugged trousers, the axes, spears, and swords were sharp and well-maintained. Many sported a second blade, typically an imposing dagger of effective length, and slings and short bows scattered amongst them. If they laughed and ignored the discipline of a march, it was a mistake to discount them as fighters.

A blow landed on the back of his head, and he lurched forward, gritting his teeth. The Burgundian way of getting someone’s attention was something he swore he would never get used to. He turned to glare at the offender, a burly warrior with hair cascading over his chest, who snorted and gestured up the ranks. Nodding, Remus led his mount after him, trotting through the milling horsemen.

The army, if he would call it that, traveled as a long band, what Remus would envision as a row tapering at both ends, and bulging in the middle. He could spot no outriders, though surely there must be scouts, and they all seemed at ease, not dreading their prince’s audience with his father at all. If they hadn’t left their women behind, he would deem them nomads in search of better fields. He wondered if he underestimated the coming dangers. Arenius and Gillenus squinted after him, but said nothing.

eagles1523yg.jpg

He found Gundomar towards the front of the pack, carrying on with his fellows, a heavily armed band that appeared to be the elites of Burgundian force. Some wore small accoutrements of leather or hide on their bodies, pieces of armor to mark status and protect those who were the best warriors. Gundomar spotted him and mercifully, did not swing for his head. Instead he laughed heartily at something said to him and pressed something brown and dry into his hands. Pressing his fingers to his lips, Remus guessed his meaning and, trying not to smell it, bit down on the proffered food.

Whatever it was, it lacked taste except for what must have been bits of dirt and something that tasted like leather. If it was meat, he didn’t know for the sure. No doubt it served as an effective ration in the field, however. His teeth ached under the pressure, and shook his head briefly as he tried to ingest the tough food.

Again, Gundomar roared and looked forward for a moment. The sun was beaming high behind them, warming their backs and easing the early spring chill. The broken terrain around them was giving way to flatter grasslands and the occasional flowing stream flush with melt water. Occasionally, they spotted a field worked by hand, and rarer still, inhabitants who would flee inside at their approach. Whether these were remnants of Roman farmhands, descendants of tribesmen turning to the soil, or otherwise, Remus did not know. Yet it reminded him of the empty villages of Italia, bereft of a certain civil spirit, a civitas. The scene of far more intense warfare between the legions and invading tribes, Gallia, despite its inviting green, was becoming desolate.

”So what brings you to Gallia, general?” Gundomar suddenly asked in surprisingly effective Latin. They had never talked aside from the prince’s rather rough reaction of their escape attempt. His guttural accent ruined the flow of the words, of course, but Remus understood him easily.

”To conquer Gaul, of course.”

Someone with a grasp of Latin whispered to his mates, and a roar erupted around them. Gundomar grinned widely but to Remus’ surprise, didn’t laugh with the rest of him. He nodded solemnly and looked forward again.

”Conquest is in our blood,” he said quietly. He raised his head suddenly, as if trying to see above those in front of them. ”My father was a conqueror, like the rest of my people. But look at us now. Do you know where his hearth lies? In the governor’s home in that city, like soft----“ he grinned at Remus, who grinned back.

”Like a soft Roman?”

Another laugh. ”Well put. But you are not soft, I think. Nor I.” He paused for a moment, and regarded Remus, his eyes taking in his bearing and dress. ”Do you know why I took you from my father?” When Remus shook his head, he raised an eyebrow. ”No, your renown is meaningless in my camp. I know little enough of you. But my father wanted you for some reason, and that was enough. At first I thought he intended to treat with you, but now I know otherwise. Yet the thought of him conspiring with Romans, even more than the elders in the city, turned my stomach.” He spit in emphasis.

”What do you know of your father’s plans for me?”

Gundomar didn’t smile, but his eyes flickered mischievously. ”They were not pleasant, that is all I know. Not that I need to explain anything to you, Roman. Most likely, your people abandoned you into my father’s hands…now into mine…”

Remus wondered if this prince’s own plans were just as unpleasant, but figured his life would’ve been forfeit by now if that were so. Was he a pawn then? From conqueror to pawn, he thought to himself.

For a time, the prince ignored him, yet did not dismiss him. Then he began to speak, though still looking ahead. ”We are a hard people, yet we grow soft. My father, a man who slew your fighters in his youth, now writes laws. He sits and his belly grows, and he reads and…writes!” He spat again. ”Warriors drink your Roman wine, they settle down in stone houses, and their women begin to wear bright clothing. To abandon their own ways and call themselves warriors…” Gundomar’s mouth pursed in growing anger.

”We should’ve sacked cities the moment we took them.” He turned back to face Remus, his eyes flaring now. ”Your soft empire may have lost in the field, but in the cities, those decadent, indulgent cities, our warrior hearts are being slain in far greater numbers than your legions ever lost.”

eagles1518gt.jpg

The Burgundian Kingdom in 487

”There.” He pointed in the distance and Remus could see it now, a tall imposing hillside flanked by a distant river. The rocky slopes were foreboding, excellent for defense. And on its crest, the shadows of buildings most civilized still loomed over the surrounding valley. Here at least, some residue of empire lingered, he thought, noting how his appreciation was opposed completely by Gundomar’s loathing. With such distanced thoughts, the two men regarded their destination.
 

stnylan

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An interesting article. It has occurred to me that if you want a look at the post-Roman world from a later point of view you might consider delving into Gregory of Tour's History of the Franks, which I know if is available in a Penguin translation because I've just read it ;)

Gundomar and his father definitely have 'unresolved issues' ;) It is interseting to speculate about what has made Gundomar more 'conservative' (if that is the right word) than his father. I also wonder why he is talking to Remus at all. It cannot be to gain an ally, for from Gundomar's perspective that would surely be like treating with the devil. I wonder if he is trying to create a sense of debt in Remus, to be repaid at a later date.

Or maybe he was just wanting to rub the conquest in.
 

The Yogi

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I have decided that this my 2000nd post should be dedicated to commenting this Prince among AARs, which is long overdue anyway.

Trust a son to find something to criticise the father for! Of course, since his father has conquered a kingdom, Gundomar will think that he is growing soft and corrupted and deserve loosing it to his purer warrior son. But maybe Remus can find a way to play out the two barbarians against each other for the benefit of Rome and himself. The Eagles must rise again! :)
 

unmerged(28944)

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As usual, Mett, your writing is excellent.

I agree with stnylan, those were some very interesting proceedings with many different avenues to move forward with. As you said, Remus is far from being prepared for being killed, otherwise his body would already be attracting flies or other such scavengers. No, I think Gundomar has plans for our Roman, despite his distaste for things Roman and I have the feeling that we might be reading of the beginning of a civil war. I'm just not sure how that possibility is going to impact Remus' eventual re-conquest of Gaul.
 

Avernite

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Hmm, even if Remus likes Roman civilization, he and Gundomar have much in common, both longing for days long gone, and both warriors in every grain of their being.

Maybe Remus will become a Burgundian General? ;)
 

Storey

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Mettermrck said:
But my father wanted you for some reason, and that was enough. At first I thought he intended to treat with you, but now I know otherwise.

This puts Remus in an uncomfortable situation. At least he has value so for the moment is safe. Still it’s a precarious situation to be a pawn between a father and son, or more importantly, between differences in how the tribe lived in the past and the future. Lets hope someone in the family has enough brains to figure out how to resolve this without bloodshed.

Joe
 

Lord E

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Great update Mett, and very nice to see a new one :)
Interesting to learn more of the world in Gaul and I think that although Gundomar might not like Romans, I think he has a respect for Remus since they are both warriors, so I think it shall be interesting to read more of what the Burundians want to do with our Roman friends.
 

Mettermrck

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stynlan: Excellent, put the History on my Amazon wish list. Hopefully it'll be the next book I order. :) Well, there's very little source material on the mindset of these Burgundian royals. Gundobad seemed fairly enlightened as a result by virtue of his legal codes that he devised, and since he had tensions with his sons, I thought that at least one of them would be more conservative.

The Yogi: Honored by your 2000th, sir. :) Yes, there's very little in this world that isn't in conflict, the old and the new. Conflict can always mean opportunity.

Draco Rexus: Yes, I'm looking forward to getting into the gritty part of Remus' campaigns in Gaul. The Burgundians are a good introduction to the chaotic nature of Gaul in this timeperiod.

Avernite: I think there's definitely a military comraderie that stretches even across cultural boundaries.

Storey: It could go many ways, this situation he is in. Gundomar's fairly weak compared to his father, especially in sheer manpower, so he'll have to be careful to survive, if that is even in his nature.

Lord E: We shall see, sir. The Burgundians seem pretty busy to formulate plans for our Romans at the moment, though that can change.

Darks63: Remus is a poster child for down low. He's been on the run for years, laid out for illness and wounds at that time, and rarely been fully accepted by his superiors.

yourworstnightm: Well, much of his success comes from planning, but there's also the element of luck. :)
 

Mettermrck

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lugdunum.gif


April 487

Ten years after Caesar’s conquest of Gaul, refugees expelled from Vienne by the Aubroges were settled in a new Roman town at the confluence of the Rhodanus and the Arar. With its tall dominating hill, named after the old forum, or Forum Vetus that stood on it, Lugdunum became a well-defended heart of Roman power in the region. By virtue of its strategic position, the patronage of Emperors, imperial philanthropy such as amphitheatres and vital bridges, the city eventually grew to burgeoning Roman settlement of thousands. In time, it became a provincial capital, the center of a great pottery industry, and an influential city in imperial politics. Such ambitions began to fade after Severus’ bloody battles with Albinus at the close of the second century. The rising power of the East versus West and a myriad of invasions and civil strife saw the decline of Lugundum’s power. The division of Gaul into smaller and smaller provinces by Diocletian and other emperors meant that its preeminence over other Gallic cities was at an end. By the late 5th century, invading barbarians, most notably the Burgundians, had swept down the valley of the Rhodanus, expelled the defenseless Roman authority, and had appropriated Lugdunum as their capital. The governing consularis was expelled, and a harder barbarian rule was installed in its place.

What remained was a Roman populace inundated by new settlers, warriors mostly and their families, who encountered the very foreign situation of living in and governing a city. New settlers began to reside directly along the riverbanks, leaving the original city, on the Forum Vetus, to diminish. With its walls and grand buildings, however, Burgundian rulers maintained their residence literally above their subjects. It was a difficult proposition to weld two societies together for common benefit, and warrior kings found it trying to learn economics and civil administration to complement their mastery of warfare. Loathed though the Roman aristocracy may have been, they were invaluable in keeping the city running. Once despised and persecuted, Burgundian rulers now found it necessary to protect them. King Gundobad found this to be vital, and he was one of the first barbarian rulers to draft legal codes that differentiated between Burgundian and Roman, and afforded protections to both. It was a divided society, assimilating at an agonizingly and painfully disruptive pace.



gallic0mt.jpg


They bent over their makeshift fire, a privilege granted only after a long and halting conversation with their guards who, even after they understood their intent, were reluctant to allow their prisoners access to an open flame. After a time, their badgering paid off and with a gruff wave of their hands, their keepers relented, leaving them only a minimum of material to build their fire. A small pot made out of copper was all they could muster to make their mid-afternoon meal, which Arenius grandly titled ‘boiled water with dirt’. Though they ate less food than their captors, they ate the same variety, which called into question how these people could maintain themselves on such decrepit fare.

Gundomar’s army had carved a small camp on the south bank of the Arar, directly across from the old Roman town and above a small settlement that was growing along the south bank. Remus, who had never been to Lugdunum in his lifetime, could only marvel at why a people would ignore such a defensible position above for vulnerable points down by the rivers. Was it a need to be closer to a source of water, a superstitious fear of distrust of stone and marble towns? Or perhaps it was more efficient, for easy access to trade and the old Roman roadways? Having encountered a world beyond them, these people simply made the worst use the tools they had come across. These were still warriors, he decided, and not rulers.

”Has Gundomar returned?” he asked idly as he stirred the thin gruel. Hearing their prince’s name, a couple of the guards glanced warily at them, but turned back. This must be an important journey, Remus noticed, as a full eight warriors had the responsibility of keeping their Roman guests contained and miserable. Some watched them, while others watched the camp.

”I spotted him crossing the river this morning. He only took ten or so guards with him, not much of an escort if one feared ambush. Likely he’s talking with his royal father now, the grand paterfamilias screaming at him if I was to hazard a guess.” Gillenus grunted and dipped a spoon into the pot, wincing at his brief taste. Remus decided it had little to do with the heat.

Remus swept the sky briefly and took in the terrain, which seemed perfectly placed to set up Lugdunum as a fortress city. The Burgundians had chosen their capital well, even if they made poor use of it. He felt the wind on his neck, noting the more moderate temperature. He glanced at Arenius. ”It’s spring now. You think the Franks are marching?”

Arenius didn’t look at him, though his expression sobered. ”If King Clovis was smart, and I believe he is, he’ll be on the move. Between Alaric and he, Syagrius is an anvil. A weak, vulnerable anvil.”

Gillenus sighed, even as he sat down with a veneer of calm. ”We simply have to escape. Successfully, this time. Yes, general?”

”Vero,” Remus sighed and turned to sit as well. As he did so, he couldn’t help catch a glimpse of blue out of the corner of his eyes. Bending on one knee, he turned and saw what could only be a marvel. A man, tall and erect, with a bearing that instantly marked him as a Roman aristocrat, was strolling right down the muddy causeway of the Burgundian camp, his eyes ignoring those around him, making purposefully for where Remus, Gillenus, and Arenius sat. His dark hair had long since faded to a distinguished grey, and his pale skin look soft and refined, with an aquiline nose Remus hadn’t seen since Rome. To his shock, no one accosted the intruder, though more than a few pairs of eyes looked him over. None of the guards brandished a weapon or even flinched. What sort of camp was this that allowed just anyone to brazenly walk through its defenses?

Cautiously, the trio stood and waited for their visitor to approach. Though their clothing was far shabbier than the approaching man, they naturally assumed a matching posture, with a certain raising of the shoulders, the positioning of one’s feet, the inquisitive raising of one’s eyebrows, gestures not yet lost in the chaotic world around them.

Holding up a palm, the man stopped and bowed his head. Remus and his men did likewise. They could have been meeting one another at the baths in Rome. But they were not, and the absurdity of the situation was not lost on them.

The visitor smiled and looked around them with a wave of his hand. ”Warriors they may be, yet they still have a certain wariness of our culture. They can best our legions in the field, yet let a Roman walk upright, dressed in our fineries, bathed, with an assurance they will never emulate, and they will let him pass. In their hearts, they still deem us betters. Remarkable, is it not?”

Remus was silent.

”Ah, my manners. Yet another quality we possess over our fellows here.” He nodded to one of the guards, who started indifferently at him. The man was right. Their guards were perfectly willing to let Romans talk amongst themselves.

”I am Marcus Celeris, late of Vienne, newly residing here in Lugdunum.”

”And I am----“, Remus began.

”Remus Macrinus, magister militum. It is something of a wonder that Romulus’ leading general is here in Gaul, a prisoner of the Burgundians?”

Having become used to people knowing his name, Remus merely fell silent, not affecting the look of surprise as he might have in the past.

”Well, magister. When I heard Prince Gundomar had brought his small army to visit his father’s capital, I knew you would not be left behind. Oh, don’t look so surprised. Everyone knows the Prince has a Roman prisoner, and among my circle, we know perfectly well who it is.” Celeris looked around the camp again, with a sniff of his nose. ”So naturally I strolled up to the Prince’s camp to take a look for myself. These guards can’t fathom that a man would dare walk unarmed into their camp. Any such man must surely have authority.”

His voice dropped to almost a whisper. ”There was a time when I truly would have walked unarmed, but times do change.” He pulled the lower part of his light blue tunica aside, revealing an unmistakable sheath on his leg. ”Even the aristocracy has had to make accommodations to the new reality.”

Having absorbed all this, Remus nodded, and invited the man to sit around the fire. Observing the hardening mud, Celeris wrinkled his nose and, looking around, grabbed a small hide of leather that sat nearby and dragged into position near the fire, sitting with as much grace as he could muster. Again, the guards did not object.

”Now that your curiosity is satisfied, I trust you have a pragmatic reason for being here,” Remus mentioned as he offered a spoon to Celeris. For his part, the aristocrat declined, his manner almost making them believe it had to do with his own contentment than the food itself.

”Naturally, though does any man in my position need a reason to observe? Or to view what foods you cook here, dear magister? My old master, Sidonius, used to say that there is nothing like thin living to give tone to a system disordered by excess. It is fitting that you give truth to this.”

For a time, they sat in quiet, accepting one another’s company with any lack of rancor of tension, Remus feeling a certain reassurance at this Roman intrusion into his barbarian captivity.

Celeris was staring down to the river, his eyes appearing more pensive than the rest of him. He turned back and smiled. ”And so, magister. Your presence here in Gaul can only be military. Surely Romulus needs you more in Italia, however? I hear Odoacer remains defiant and King Gunthamund besieges Agrigentum even as we speak. Well, if one can trust the gossip of sailors.”

Remus eyes flickered upward as he digest Celeris’ words. Agrigentum, a small town in southern Sicily, was surely outside Romulus’ domain. Which meant that either the young imperator was pushing into Sicily or else the Vandals were absorbing the vestiges of Odoacer’s rule in that region. Either way, it boded ill for the Empire. No commander wished to face two fronts in war.

He gazed back at his visitor, who was again looked down to the river. Remus followed his eyes, observing the slow languidly crossing of a pair of distant wagons, a supply train perhaps. The city gates were opened and a pair of riders had crossed beyond the walls, taking the long mountain trail up the Forum Vetus. Riders were also galloping down the roadway.

”Any news of Syagrius, domine?” Arenius, seeing Remus keeping his own counsel, had leaned forward to continue the conversation.

Celeris turned back, his eyes sparkling some. ”Ahhh, I had thought your manner distinct. Gallics, then.” He nodded with a touch of self-satisfaction. ”Very little, I am afraid. If anything had happened, I am sure word would have reached us here soon.” It was an answer that did little to satisfy Arenius, who slumped back.

Again, Celeris looked back at Lugdunum. Remus gazed at Gillenus a moment, to see if he was observing the same.

He was about to bring his guest back to their conversation, when a distant shout echoed up the hillside. Remus ignored it at first, but then it rang out again. Now it continued as an echo, a pulse, someone repeating a short burst of sound. Celeris stood and looked after the shouts, which were coming from precisely where he had been looking the whole time. Almost as if…Remus smiled to himself.

The sound was closer now and Remus realized it was a single word, shouted over and over. Around them, the normal business of camp faded and men stood to regard the distant approach of dust. It surely was one of the riders Remus had observed coming down the Forum Vetus. He couldn’t distinguish the pronunciation. It was a Burgundian word, harsh and sharp as it echoed across the camp. Then slowly, like a rolling wave, others in the camp picked up the sound. It reverberated around the tents, less of a shout and more of a wail, a collective groan as warriors added their voice to the echo. Men dropped what they were doing, put down food, set down all they were carrying, and turned their eyes down the hillside.

Remus turned to Celeris, who was now watching him with twinkling eyes.

”Lost,” he said with precision. ”It means lost.”

He stepped closer to Remus and together they observed the rider, who had dismounted in the center of camp, warriors gradually walking closer, their manner shiftless.

Remus suddenly cast back to years back, to Pryopius’ camp on the Via Cassia. He recalled the lone rider sweeping into camp, the shiftless soldiers watching him. ”Imperator mortuus est,” he mouthed, not realizing he was doing so out loud.

”Not precisely,” Celeris said next to him. ”The King lives. It is his son who has died. The King has struck down Gundomar.”

They looked at each with regard, both wrestling with what it meant. ”Then we…” Remus began, faltering.

vtearca2xl.jpg

”You will be in the King’s hands by nightfall if you remain. Fortunately,” he said with more calm than Remus felt, ”these warriors are in no state to object when four unarmed Romans walk boldly out of camp.”

Remus, staring at the idle guards walking towards the center of camp, all of them with their backs to them, and quietly agreed.
 
Last edited:

Petrarca

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Long live assimilation! Death to the purists!

It will be very interesting to see Syagrius's forces bolstered, and perhaps triumphant, with the arrival of Remus. I look forward to the radical effects in the offing, as well as the very weird religious situation. Can an extant western empire preserve trinitarian Christianity as well as the Franks did in OTL?
 

unmerged(28944)

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Good-bye Gundomar, hello Daddy! :p

Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser! (Thank God my old English teacher can't read this, she'd be hunting me down with a ruller for that line! :rolleyes: )

Nice work on keeping the supsense building, Mett.
 

stnylan

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Have you ever read any of Michael Palin's travelogues? The first one he did Around the World in Eighty Days started by him going to a veteren travel broadcaster/writer, and asking for advice. His advice was, when confronted by any sort of trouble, be English to the hilt. Imperial English, stereotypical English, and you can walk out of trouble. A very similar attitude, all in all.

It's noteworthy that Remus remains his persepective, and goes not get side-tracked by culture talk. He remains a man focused on his job, regardless of his surroundings.
 

Stuyvesant

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Excellent update! I really enjoyed reading about the clashing and morphing of those two very different cultures, the Roman and the Burgundian. Ironic to see how Celeris' words and actions in this update leant truth to Gundomar's bitter remarks about Roman civilization being a greater threat to the Burgundians than the Roman military. It was quite a telling scene to have Celeris, nominally a subject person living on the whim of the Burgundians, take such a superior, even condescending attitude towards his barbarian overlords.

Will Gundomar's death mean the end of Remus' Burgundian escapades, or are there still chapters remaining? :)
 

Petrarca

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Stuyvesant said:
It was quite a telling scene to have Celeris, nominally a subject person living on the whim of the Burgundians, take such a superior, even condescending attitude towards his barbarian overlords.
I love imperial condescension. Like an Attic Greek commenting on how semi-barbaric Macedonians conquered them and the entire known world, only to die in drunken stupors. :cool:
 

The Yogi

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A dad can only take so much, apparently. I must translate this update for Yogi Jr so he'll know there are limits to everything... :D

Great update, Met! Now, first things first: before Remus can begin restoring the Empire in these lands, he needs to get some kind of an army to do it. Now get to it! :)
 

Lord E

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Great work Mett. So the father killed the son, well that was evil, still it was good for Remus, now he can at last get away from the Burgundians and start creating an army and then begin the real Gallic campaign :)