Heir of Aurelian

Decius Flavius Primus stood on the field of battle overlooking his Army as he advanced upon the position of the Pictish war bands who had been ravaging the Diocese of Britannia for the past few years. Alongside his army were the Hibernian foederati, who were armed and ready to engage in mortal combat with the enemy.

In the distance was Hadrians’ wall, and for the first time in years the Picts were up against the wall with a Roman Army advancing on them. For too long, these Celtic barbarians had ravaged the lands of Rome. This was largely the fault of the now deceased Usurper Constantine III, who emptied the Romano-British garrisons to press his claim in Gaul.

However, under Marcellus’ authority, Britannia was reclaimed for the Empire, and as a result, the Legions of Western Rome had pushed their way into the region, and had battled fiercely for control of the lands they used to rule over.

At first, the campaign was slow, with brutal warfare every step of the way. However, after a series of small victories against the Picts, the painted savages were now on the borders of Caledonia and Britannia. With one more battle, they would be pushed beyond Hadrian’s Wall once more.

Thus, Primus had a cruel smile on his face as he lifted his sword into the air and gave the order to march on the remainder of the Celtic war-band._.

“Charge!”

The Roman heavy infantry, along with the Hibernian Warriors rushed forward, their numbers were so overwhelming that they need not care about fancy formations. The Picts hurled their spears, and unleashed their axes as they desperately tried to halt the Roman onslaught. However, it was only the last gasp of a dying man.

The Roman Army quickly surrounded the Picts, and with their backs against the wall, they could only struggle in the face of death. The Roman Soldiers pressed their shields against the Picts and thrust their spathae upward into their guts. These savages were from a tribe that was renowned for its lack of armor or clothing. Because of this, it was exceptionally easy to get past their defences and claim their lives with a vicious strike.

Every second, the Celtic barbarians screamed in agony, as their shields were bypassed by the skilled maneuvers of the Roman infantry. One by one, their bodies fell to the floor with lifeless eyes, as the Roman and Hibernian soldiers cut them down like wheat to the scythe. This was not a battle, but the massacre of a routing army. After all, it was not easy to scale the walls, and only a few men at a time could squeeze through the gatehouse, especially when it was packed full of men fighting for position.

The battle was over as soon as it had started, and the majority of the Picts were butchered where they stood. Only a few dozen men escaped their fate and returned to their homeland with their tails tucked between their legs.

Nath Í mac Fiachrach wiped his enemy’s blood from his face before approaching Primus, as the High King of Hibernia, the man, was always at the front lines of war, and he too had done his part in slaying the enemy.

The man gazed upon the Roman General and congratulated him on his victory. They had fought together for many months to remove the Pictish Menace from the Diocese of Britannia, and now they could finally celebrate their victory.

“I need a drink after all of this. What do you say you come back with me to my home and I will introduce you to one of my daughters? You still don’t have a wife, do you?”

Primus scoffed when he heard this suggestion. He was a Proud Roman and did not intend to live the rest of his days in this frontier. He wanted to return to Rome with glory and be heralded as a hero by all. Thus, he quickly declined the King’s offer before giving orders to his troops.

“It is not yet time to celebrate. Though we may have pushed them beyond Hadrian’s wall, we are still not finished. I believe I told you before. I do not plan to stop before I retake Antonine’s Wall. We continue our march. I will leave behind some men to secure Hadrian’s Wall and the surrounding regions. As for the rest, we continue our march at dawn.”

Nath Í mac Fiachrach could only sigh when he heard this. He had seriously hoped that the Roman Legate would reconsider after taking Hadrian’s Wall. However, it appeared that Primus was determined to retake and rebuild Antonine’s wall.

Unlike its southern brother, Antonine’s wall was not made of stone and mortar, it was an earthen fortification with wooden palisades. Centuries had passed since the Romans last stood watch along its length, and the wall itself no longer existed.

To rebuild it to a state similar to Hadrian’s Wall would be a massive undertaking, one that would take years to complete. In truth, Nath did not know if it was worth the effort. After all, Hadrian’s wall was a sufficient barrier so long as it was properly garrisoned. The problems the Romano-British had in the past regarding Caledonian invaders were simply due to a lack of troops in the region.

However, for Primus, it was not a matter of practicality, but of glory. If he could expand the borders of the Western Roman Empire, even by a little, it would be remembered throughout history. Not only would his name be written into the records as a capable General, but Marcellus would also be remembered as the man Emperor who retook Antonine’s wall.

The Price of Eternal Glory was always filled with bloodshed, and Primus was not afraid to fight for it. Thus, despite Nath’s sigh of contempt, he was undeterred from his goal. Instead he merely glared at the High King of Hibernia before scolding him.

“You will just have to wait a few more months before you can celebrate back in your homeland. I’m sure the joy you get from putting the Caledonians to the sword will itself be more than enough reward for your efforts.

However, I will make sure to handsomely reward you and your army once we have retaken Antonine’s wall. Until then, I need you sober and ready. You never know when the enemy will attack us, especially after we enter lands that have been conquered by the Caledonians for centuries.”

Nath Í mac Fiachrach could only sigh once more and shake his head. He had lost in the game of drink, and the price to pay was to become Foederati for the Romans in Britannia. He had no choice but to obey Primus’ orders. No matter how much he wanted to return home to his lovely wives. Thus, he could only nod his head in agreement.

“Fine, I’ll be ready to march at dawn. This reward of yours better be worth it!”

Thus, the Caledonians were driven beyond Hadrian’s Wall, and the Romans were preparing for their next conquest. At the very least, the Diocese of Britannia would be much safer now that the threat of the Picts was removed.