Chapter 140: Traitor to Rome

They had been tracking the frozen ridges for exactly a week when Camilla finally detected the heavily armed column departing the northern gates of the Noricum fortress...

Just as Aurelia had calculated, Consul Valerian’s convoy was guarded by twenty-five elite Praetorian cavalry, riding warhorses at the vanguard of the column.

A logistical transport corps consisting of roughly one hundred auxiliary legionaries and senatorial slaves marched in strict formation behind them.

Protected within the center of the formation were two carriage wagons.

Aurelia logically assumed the Imperial Envoy was stationed in the lead vehicle.

The five Syndicate operatives shadowed the column in silence as it began its long descent toward the plains of Mediolanum.

According to their strict tactical doctrine, they would solely initiate the ambush when the Roman convoy entered the deepest, most isolated section of the Alpine gorge, ensuring they were incapable of calling for Praetorian reinforcements in time.

Aurelia observed the lead carriage from the shadows of the pine trees, her eyes locking onto the slight shifts in the curtains that betrayed the Envoy’s presence.

If Aurelia were operating alone, she could likely execute a targeted strike on the Imperial assassin, but it was not guaranteed that she could slaughter the entire Praetorian escort before they dispatched a rider.

But now, backed by the force of Lucius’s premier operatives, it was probable they could blackout the intelligence network in Northern Italy...

Once this specific Roman column was eradicated, the Senate in Rome would not receive a single intelligence report until the snow melted next spring.

And by that time, it would be impossible for Valerian’s spies to investigate exactly what had happened in the mountains.

Aurelia generally did not take pleasure in mass slaughter, but this specific operation was an intentional decision.

It would sever Valerian’s intelligence lines and protect the borders of the Forge Master’s industrialized republic.

She would not regret this bloodbath.

When the Roman convoy fully entered the narrowest chokepoint of the gorge, Aurelia saw a shadow detaching from the cliff face above.

It was Boduoc.

The giant Celt did not bother with stealth; he kicked a ton-heavy limestone boulder over the precipice, roaring at the top of his lungs.

The rock shattered the icy path in front of the vanguard.

The Roman warhorses neighed in sheer panic, rearing up uncontrollably.

The entire column ground to a chaotic halt, the auxiliaries dumbfounded, staring upward in paralyzed shock at the avalanche.

But the giant warrior did not simply roll a rock to block the path as they had expected.

Instead, he leaped directly off the twenty-foot cliff, crashing into the center of the infantry formation with earth-shattering kinetic force.

"Syndicate ambush!" the Praetorian Centurions roared from the front of the column.

Hearing the military command, the veteran legionaries recovered their discipline, drawing their *gladii* and collapsing on the unknown enemy who had breached their center.

The Romans were protected by their interlocking, curved *scuta* shields, an archaic formation that would easily repel standard barbarian raiders, but was useless against Boduoc’s force.

The Celt swung his trench-club, shattering the Roman shields and the men behind them like a scythe reaping dry wheat.

The legionaries surrounding him were thrown backward, their bones pulverized.

Boduoc’s club rapidly fractured under the immense stress of the slaughter.

He simply discarded it, seizing the weapons dropped by the dead... a *pilum*, a brass-hilted sword, and sometimes just a legionary helmet.

Absolutely anything he grasped became a terrifyingly lethal instrument of blunt-force trauma.

Hot blood splashed across the white snow, and formations were torn apart.

In the center of the column, Boduoc was breaking the Roman spine single-handedly.

At the rear of the convoy, the auxiliary reinforcements could barely offer the center any tactical assistance because they were currently being annihilated by their own unseen nightmare.

Silas remained concealed in the branches, working the bolt of his scoped percussion rifle.

He utilized the snow drifts to mask his muzzle flash, adjusting his firing angle after every single shot.

Every single lead bullet he fired punched through the helmet of a Roman officer, striking them perfectly between the eyebrows.

Every single pull of his trigger yielded a confirmed kill.

In less than ten minutes, the once-impenetrable Roman column devolved into bloody chaos.

Aurelia entered the fray. She utilized her grappling hook to swing through the tree line, maintaining a visual lock on her sole target for this operation: the Imperial Envoy.

The two carriages, pulled by panicked horses, broke off from the main road.

The drivers whipped the beasts, burrowing into the dense pine forest in two different directions.

It was obvious that the Envoy had instantly calculated that she was facing heavy industrial weapons and a superior force...

For a Roman assassin trained to fight standard soldiers, a Syndicate firing squad was an unbeatable tactical nightmare.

Unfortunately for the Envoy, she could not escape Aurelia’s tracking.

Aurelia had already locked onto her specific carriage before the ambush began.

The individual fleeing in the second wagon was likely the corrupt Praetorian Tribune, Severus.

Aurelia left the Tribune entirely to Valerius and Camilla.

Despite the fact that the Envoy’s carriage violently tossed and vaulted over the icy roots of the forest floor, the Roman driver continued to whip the bleeding horses, clearly being ordered to accelerate at all costs.

Aurelia closed the distance.

In order to guarantee a lethal strike with every pull of the trigger, she held her fire until she was less than ten meters behind the fleeing vehicle, perfectly in line with the rear guard.

She aimed her revolver at the four Praetorian cavalrymen attempting to shield the carriage, and pressed the trigger to execute them one by one.

The Praetorians immediately attempted to scatter at the deafening roar of the firearm, but the distance was far too close for Aurelia’s reflexes.

Furthermore, their armor was actually causing vastly more harm than good against the lead bullets.

The supersonic projectiles deformed and fragmented upon piercing the armor plates, turning the Roman steel into jagged shrapnel inside their own chests.

After eliminating the four cavalry escorts, she aimed her barrel directly at the carriage horses.

As the two beasts collapsed into the snow, the carriage launched forward from its own momentum.

It slammed into a pine trunk and instantly exploded into a shower of splinters.

Through the cloud of flying debris and snow, a figure wrapped in a cloak rolled out of the wreckage.

Aurelia aimed and fired without a second of hesitation, but the Envoy’s reflexes were inhuman; she snapped the cloak upward, deflecting the lead bullets into the trees.

Aurelia immediately backpedaled, breaking open the cylinder of her revolver to reload a fresh set of paper cartridges and percussion caps.

"Traitor to Rome!" the Envoy screamed, charging through the snow toward Aurelia’s position.

They were absolutely not fighting in a cramped office anymore.

Now, out in the open forest, every single step Aurelia took backward forced the Envoy to expend massive amounts of energy plunging through the snow.

The lethal range of Aurelia’s rifled revolver was roughly fifty meters, which was vastly larger than the striking radius of a weighted chain...

The Envoy’s whip could never reach Aurelia, while a single lead bullet could end the assassin’s life at any given moment.

At this distance, firing while moving backward, perhaps only one or two out of every six shots actually struck the target.

However, Aurelia possessed the luxury of time.

After five full cylinders the Envoy’s stamina and her previously fractured arm failed her.

The cloak dropped by a fraction of an inch. A lead ball shattered the Envoy’s left shoulder, and a split-second later, another bullet tore through her stomach.

She could no longer remain standing...

She staggered three steps forward, and then collapsed into the snow.

Aurelia was not in a hurry to approach her.

She reloaded her final cylinder, ensuring the hammer was cocked, before she slowly walked toward the dying assassin.

During the prolonged firefight, Aurelia had maintained a perfect circle, ensuring she controlled the high ground.

The exact moment Aurelia’s boots crunched the snow beside the assassin, the Envoy suddenly whipped her right hand upward, attempting to drive a concealed dagger into Aurelia’s femoral artery.

But her muscles were shredded; the blade merely grazed Aurelia’s boot before falling into the snow.

"You damned plague... the Consul will nail you to a cross!" the Envoy hissed.

Aurelia aimed the barrel of the revolver at the center of the assassin’s chest. "Is that a fact? I will wait for Valerian to try."

Then she pulled the trigger.

The Imperial Envoy’s cloak had unraveled during her final collapse.

Blood streamed from the exit wounds in her back, forming a puddle that slowly melted the Alpine frost beneath her.

Aurelia squatted methodically in the snow and pulled back the cowl masking the assassin’s face.

She calculated that the Envoy looked unexpectedly young, likely similar to Aurelia’s own age.

However, the raised scars covering her jawline and neck destroyed any trace of humanity...

Her skin looked as if it had been burned by a red-hot iron brand, leaving puckered tissue that severely restricted her facial expressions.