Heir of Aurelian

Primus gazed upon the ongoing reconstruction of Antonine’s wall. Large blacks of granite were removed from the quarries of Britannia and dragged further north into the inhospitable wasteland of Caledonia, where they stacked and mixed with cement into the formation of a grand barrier.

Months had passed since the Romans had first recaptured this section of Britannia, and even now the Picts and Caledonians beyond the border continued to send raids against the Romans’ efforts to keep them out.

Since the Legate had brought back law and order to the region, he had done a fine job implementing Marcellus’ agricultural reforms. In doing so, expanding food production for what was known as the British Isles in Marcellus’ past life.

The excess grain which was processed and stored had become the greatest export of Britannia as they sold an ample supply to the Irish tribes and petty kingdoms. For their role in repelling the Picts from Britannia, Primus had opted to maintain friendly relations with the Irish, and thus he did not need to worry too much about raids from the west.

Currently, Primus was along with one of his legions who acted as the protectors of the north. Recently, another raid had occurred, and several hundred slaves used to construct the wall were either killed or captured by the Caledonians. a

Thus, Primus was sitting back and waiting for a report from the soldiers he had sent to investigate this matter. Slaves were not worth an expedition north into barbarian territory, however, Rome could not simply take these raids lying down.

Thus, once Primus determined the direction from which these raiders came from, he would lead a minor incursion just north of the border, attacking those responsible, burning their villages to the ground, and enslaving the survivors.

After several minutes of investigation, a soldier returned to the Legate and gave him the response he was looking for.

“The signs point to the raiders fleeing to the northeast. If that’s the case, we’re most likely dealing with the Venicones tribe. Since they have opted to sabotage our efforts to protect ourselves from them, I think a brief incursion beyond the border would be most prudent.”

Primus merely nodded his head in agreement with this claim. They had driven many Caledonian tribes north of Antonine’s wall. However, the only thing that managed to accomplish was fuel the flames of war that lied within the hearts of the Pictish people. Thus, a better example needed to be set.

The Legate did not need a second to think about the proper recourse. He immediately gave voice to his orders, ones that would set the Pictish landscape ablaze in an act of fierce retaliation.

“Gather the legion. We march north. It is time we teach these barbarians a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

With this said, the soldier saluted his legate before going off to relay his orders to the unit who were standing by while waiting for the investigation to be complete. After giving the orders, Primus returned to his horse, which he quickly mounted via the stirrups.

It would be a long journey to strike the Venicones at the heart of their lands. At most, he and his men would not see the safety of Roman soil for a few weeks. However, this incursion needed to happen. For the Glory of Rome, and its Emperor, the Caledonians needed to pay the price of their actions with blood.

Within the hour, the legion departed from the borders of Britannia, and ventured deep into Pictish lands, expecting at any moment to be beset upon by enemies. Despite this, they did not immediately fall prey to an enemy ambush. In fact, they managed to make some distance into the hills before facing their first attack.

After reaching the half-way point to their destination, a group of Picts jumped out from behind the rocks and threw their spears towards the Roman soldiers. While others unleashed the rocks contained within their slings. Against such methods, the Romans simply raised their shields over their heads and resisted the barrage of projectiles with ease.

However, the Picts did not stay around to fight, and scampered off into the hills. Their lack of armor made it much easier for them to escape the Romans, who were clad from head to toe in iron. Primus cursed beneath his breath when he realized that the enemy had escaped, but he did not dare pursue them in case they had planned a much larger ambush deeper inland. Instead, he gave the order to stay the course.

“Continue to our destination. Do not be distracted by such a small war-band of raiders.”

Days passed as the Romans marched on to their destinations, and the weather had turned sour. With rain flooding the foothills and making the paths difficult to traverse. Despite this adversity, the Romans continued to march forward without end. Resting only when it was completely necessary.

Brief skirmishes appeared now and again in an attempt to shake the Romans off their course, but Primus had never pursued the perpetrators, knowing full well that to do so would cause him to walk into a trap.

Finally, after nearly a week of marching passed. Primus and his soldiers arrived at the outermost village of the Venicones tribe. Where their hillfort lay proudly, as if boastfully defying the Roman Legion who had made an exhausting and arduous journey just so they could attack a barbarian fortress.

pan,da-n0v el Despite this reality, Primus was undeterred, and quickly gave the command to his soldiers to construct a siege camp. Within the next few days, he would be breaking his way into the hillfort, where he would put every warrior to the sword, and claim their wives and children as slaves for the Roman Empire.

Though he had only brought a single legion to deal with these troublemakers, in the eyes of the Legate, it was more than enough to deal with any enemy they might face in these barbarous lands. The Venicones would soon experience the wrath of Rome first hand.