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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:25
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The Next Chapter, for those of you who have been dying for it. It's a refined model, thankfully. I've composed new Counter Factual and used that as a testing ground for some new literary techniques.
I may post it later, I have yet to produce a satisfactory title for it, but I can tell you that it is very good, the basic 'South wins the Civil War' model with a few interesting twists. I probably wrote it mostly out of hatred for Mr. Turtledove's 'How Few Remain-Great War Series.' Which are, in my eyes, the worst possible take on an Independent Confederacy.
But while you may care deeply about that, That is for another thread, a thread I may well anticipate, but a seperate thread regardless.
This is he story of Crusaders. This is their Legacy.
-
"Vivere militare est" He nodded to his aide.
"Ita," he nodded, "Ita Vera."
"Where will they strike next?" He unfolded a map, pointing to the assorted mountains of Rome.
The aide shrugged. Pointing at an asorted set of peaks to the north.
"That would be a brilliant move, victory there would grant them passage to the seven sacred hills. They would probably crush us with such a blow, but imagine he cost. They have no need to take a sea route, they have a border with us and I am sure their knights can reach us faster on land."
"Not if they were the troops from the Celtic front. They've declared truce and need not stay there. From there sea is the more direct route anyways. They aren't knights either, the Indians favor elephants."
The General sighed. looking at the map he muttered.
"It's over. Isn't it."
His aide nodded solemnly.
-
"We're out of nails, I'm sorry."
"Are you sure? Can you fashion nothing for my horse? We have a message to deliver."
The smithie, a fattening older felow whose white hair flew confusedly in whatever direction length would permit. His utter lack of beard was remarkable, though he unsurprisingly lacked teeth.
"We're out of nails. What is so hard for you to understand?"
"This is urgent!"
"Take it yourself then."
"I won't make it without that horse."
"You shan't rent her without a proper shoe on her. I shant apply some nonsence of a shoe. What could be so important anyway?"
He had been vowed to secrecy. Though his dark eyes parried with the thought of divulging the secret to this doddering old fool he realised that he couldn't. if he was overheard he might as well not go.
He tossed downhis hat angrily, storming off muttering.
"For want of a nail, the shoe was lost."
he scribbled it down on his pad as he dashed off to make a go at delivery on foot.
-
They surrounded him, an evil looking sort, probably not Indians, if the Indians had made it so far his message would not have helped anyway.
He wanted to run, to escape, they were mounted, he would never outrun them.
"For want of a horse, the message was lost," he thought as they ransacked his clothing, looking dumbly at the runes they could not read.
-
Roman generals did not lead from the front. It was a rare occasion that Ceaser did, but Pompey was no Caeser, he perfered things to be done in the classical, coldblooded style.
He surveyed the battlefeild, from his hill, pleased as the Romans stood strong against the Indian invaaders.
He laughed to a nearby legatus.
"Rome may well survive this after all." The smile was wide.
He turned to the battlefeild.
"Why isn't the Right flank advancing?" it was true, the knights stood still, unmoving.
"I....I dispatched a messanger sir. They should have received his message by now."
The Elephants charged the silent flank, catching the knights by surprise and overwhelming them. The Indians held a Roman flank, Pompey would shift his troops, but he already knew it was lost.
"For want of a message, the battle was lost."
-
Upon the ships the battle was perceived silently. Maps were arrayed befoere the ruler and god of India.
"The Sacred hills next. The Romans will be devastated if we burn the birthplace of Mars.
Gahndi, emperor of the Indian empire he had forged with his own two fists looked across the deep blue of ocean to the creen studded mountaintops of rome, the marks of war were apparent from even the vantage of the sea.
The quiet racket of a paddle in the water awoke him from his reverie.
"Sir, the battle is won. We seized th flank and crushed their troops. It wasa slaughter."
"On to the sacred hills then. The very heart of Rome."
"No," Shiva soothly denied them.
"It is not the heart of Rome?"
"The sacred hills. Are Rome."
-
"Empres fall, sir. We are simply the next."
Caeser glared at the advisor.
"Any chance of negotiation?"
The advisor chickled, "They play for keeps."
"So, no negotiation. No hope in heaven."
"That sums it up sir, very nicely."
"No."
:What sir?"
Caeser's eyes were aglow.
"What sir?" He repeated for good measure.
"No hope... but heaven."
"Don't follow."
"Leave then. I must speak with Mars."
Mumbling about superstition the Advisor left.
Cackles of Laughter soon followed him up the hall, it wasn't Caeser's voice, he reqalised. Too deep. Too... Godlike.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:25
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The metallic clang stung his ears. It was all he had left to offer. He had plotted long with Caeser to perfectr his surprise. He had apparently failed, he cracked a grin as his body, a body he supposed now, fell to the floor. Mortality was a funny thing.
Shiva's curved blade finished the swing, as the Gladius enchantingly rolled away from the limp hands, a hypnotic noise followed in it's wake.
"Ah, how the mighty have fallen."
The new voice took Shiva by surprise, Mars grunted his last breaths in stammering confusion. Shiva turned his head.
Cernunous grinned back at him.
"Again?" Shiva asked. A perplexed glare reflected back from the craggy horned face.
It became apparent that Cernunnuos had regained his bearings. His eyes lit up and he spoke.
"No. No, of course not. We are both tired. I would rather crush you when I recover."
"You trust me?" Samaharamuti asked, grinning.
Mars grunted for the last time and then lay dead, blood seeping from his lips. This caught the attention of the Indian and Celt for a moment before they turned to each other.
"No, I don't. But I trust my sword."
Shiva nodded.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing really.Just came to watch the show. I suppose we shall meet again?"
"We don't have to."
"But we must. Do you think that the process can be stopped. In the end, there can be only one. You know this as well as I. I don't relish the thought of fighting you, I saw you and Mars. Peace has no hope. Not until one stands, uber aelles, as Tiw would say."
Shiva frowned.
"One day perhaps. But I have the Romans to deal with first"
"Deal as you must. It is right to kill the godless ones. It is the way of the godless to die."
-
Marcus Secundus had once been an advisor to Caeser. No-one before him, though the crowd was massive, would have ever guesssed this. His toga waas unstained, much like a preists.
Marcus was no preist.
"There is no god." His voice boomed before the masses. Who took aghas looks upon their faces. He stood before the Great temple, tat first building Caeser had built in Rome. Marble veins bled slowly away from the wound which took it's daggar of a pulpit upon them.
"Mars is dead, and Mars alone was God. I call you people to see this. We shall stand tall, We need no petty god to govern our affairs!" His fist was raised to the heavens, defiantly.
"Your like have come before. You have always been wrong."
Marcus eyed the stranger in the crowd, a sneer in his visage.
"Mars hsa always struck them dead," He raised his arms away from him, baring his chest to the sky, "If you live, exhalted Mars, then strike me down for the blasphemer I am."
Silence swept across the expectant crowd, a few near the front backed away, fearful.
Nothing happened.
His arms fell.
"Do you see?"
The crowd stared dumbly, a man cried out,
"He lives!"
Marcus frowned.
"Thank you captain obvious."
The man smiled proudly and turned to the crowd, "I'm a captain!" he exclaimed, leaving to spread the good word.
Marcus sighed. He had lost momentum to the fool.
"So join me my freinds. We shall worship none, we shall build swords rather than temples. We shall defend our homeland ourselves, not ask the pity of a dead god."
Cheers rose with fists matching his own. The very heavens shuddered at the volume.
-
"What do you think your doing?"
Marcu looked up from his papers, "So the king makes housecalls now?"
Caeser sighed, uncomfortable, "We make exceptions when our kingdom stands threatened."
"Don't worry." Marcus put his pen back to the parchment and turned his eyes away from Julius.
Caeser shook his head quickly, surprised.
"What do you mean."
MArcus looked up, pity in his eyes for the ignorant.
"Your day is over, naught can be done. Surrender yourself to destiny and enjoy what remains of your life."
Caeser sneered, "My life is eternal," he took up his Gladius, "Much unlike yours."
Marcus lazily pulled a knife up and slid it across the king's arm. Blood came forth excitedly.
Marcus looked up.
"Leave this house. I shall grant you a Kingdom as long as I\it pleases me."
Caeser stammared, backwheeling for the door.
"I still have followers." He turned and ran for his chariot.
To the swinging door he muttered, not bothering to look up from his writings, "So does Mars."
-
"We've met stiff resistance to the East sir."
"Legions? Pikes? What do the Romans hae left?"
"It seems to be peasants. An army of them."
Judas shrugged, "What of it? Simply slaughter them."
"They are building lines, crude soldier work at best, but they fight and die. We die as well, general, and they have many more than we."
"So? Bring the catapaults and use those. It should frighten them off."
"Their determined sire. And besides, our artilarry has fallen behind, it would take weeks for it to catch up on the unpaved dirt and mud. Our supply lines are broken, they would have no direction to go in. We cannot get the catapaults."
"We shall win. They are only peasants."
"They have a rallying cry, can you explain it for me?"
Judas sighed, "I must be off to fight real armies, what is it?"
"Deus Mortuus Est" (NB: My Latin if foggy, I didn't take it this year, methinks the cases and declensions are right, correct me if not)
"God is dead." with this he turned and left, not bothering to remember it.
-
A daggar their banner, swords unsheathed, they marched with ironically religious zeal.
"Deus Mortuus Est!" shouted from very marching tongue. The heavens quaked and the mountains shivered. With every raised sword and torch came another chance at freedom, another loss worth dying for. The numbers swelled, the mob of romans marched on angrilly. A storm on the horizon.
The armed masses had found a strength they had never known before.
God save the Kings.
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SKILORD
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Live free or Die
Mar 2002
time: 05:25
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Internal dissent would see the shattering of the Ceaser's regime into fragmented factions, many blame him, for failing to re-establish order, as the major catalyst in the coming revolution. Indian forces continued to ravage the countryside as the newfound glory of the masses began to shine and the reactionary forces of the Ceaser, calling themselves the 'Crusaders' fought desperately."
-The People's History of the People's Republic of Rome, Volume 1, Before the first Republic.
-
Burning feilds.
As he stood before them he wondered who had set the fire, noone would ever know, he guessed, though there would be attempts to blame ones enemies. Personally he suspected the Republican Revolutionaries, they were the only ones lacking the scruples which bound both the Conservative 'Crusaders' who refused to beleive that their way of life had fallen, and his own Indian forces, who were far to respectful of Roman civilians, from what he had seen, though it was possible that their respect towards his former countrimen was staged for him.
God it hurt to go home. He shot his eyes towards the heavens, wondering if any God indeed heard him, whether Shiva had adopted him or if he still stood under the juridstiction of a now dead Mars.
An aide tapped him on the shoulder, having approached from behind.
"Sir, the Romans come again."
Judas wondered if the man even remembered anymore. Had his Roman features faded in the presence of the Indians so much that he could no longer be recognised?
"Bring out the troops."
The aide looked down, "Sir, they are unarmed."
Judas glanced at the nervous young man, testing him for the courage to stand by that farce.
"They will be easier to kill."
"Women, sir, and childeren.?"
Judas stood at once, "What do they approach for."
"They come to protest the traitor, or so they chant."
"Where....." Judas looked again at the burning feilds, memories of those feilds, on brighter days when smoke did not choke the sky, returned to him, a tear blessed his cheek," Where are we?"
"You know that sire, Cumae."
Judas dropped to his knees, sobbing, wishing that his father's feilds would somehow stop burning, that somehow... somehow it would all be over, a terrible nightmare, and he would come to his senses back in Pompeii with that idiot general. God, what had he done, what had he done?
-
Grunts responded to the galley-master.
Axes sat quietly near the long benches, oars rowed steadily ahead against the tide. Not a word escaped the Norse lips.
"Odin shall smile upon our axes, he shall stand beside us, men, we shall stand like Gods upon the feild, we shall crush the enemy once and for all."
"We shall eat the feast of champions, we shall take the sword of victors and smite the king of their false nation down."
The reply was perfect, each rower had prepared, memorising those lines in the great academy of warriors, in Trondheim. The men were ready, and the officers were proud.
The captain's usually solemn head appeared, grinning to the gsalley master.
"Land ho."
-
"And so we go. Ships into the mist of the future, ever carried by forces beyond our knowledge to places beyond our control."
"Perhaps you, Ragnar." Odin laughed, "I am master of my own destiny."
"Are you though, you have no fear of things beyond your control?"
"Beyond my control, old freind?" Odin's laughter continued, "I am a God. I am the force mortals refer to as beyond control."
Ragnar grinned feebly back at the diety who had befreinded them when he had been but a cheiftan and Odin but a child-god. They ruled now, hand in hand they had crushed every opposition, their Berserkers defeating the followers of the other sects, uniting the nation under a single rule, their own.
"Are you sure we're in the right? With our attack and all?"
"No," Odin shook his head, as unconfident as the King, "I am unsure. They have fought more than we, they are better at it than we can hope to be, but they are off gaurd, that is our only hope. We must seize their ciies and destroy their means of fighting back."
"Are you sure they are a threat."
"They wish to conqure the world my freind. Peace treaties are meaningless in this world. Always are we at war, with everyone."
"But are you sure them? Surely the Romans are a geater-"
"Yes, the Roman threat of this.... Republic.... it is a great danger to us both. But you see, the Romans fall a little more each day at the hands of the Indians, to fight them is pointless for surely they will fall. We shall destroy both while they are weak, rather than only Rome. And by the way," Odin pulled forth his knife, "Never again are you to refer to me as Shirley."
-
Musketballs came across the feild, the smoldering ashes were crushed beneath the boots of the musketmen.
Their black and red banner surrendered their purpous, but it didn't take that to determine that they were Republican warriors, the Revolutionaries were the first to effectively use the musket, and even still they held a monopoly in it's use, though most nations held the technology.
Judas stood before his army, the crack troops of the Indian forces. Lances and sheilds held ready as the Cavalry, mounted upon their signature elephants, prepaared the charge.
"Right Flank reports engagement sir."
Judas nodded, as he had expected. Gone were the mob tactics of the revolutionaries, experience had brought with it a respect for the higher calling of strategy and order. It was mostly due to this revelation that the Roman EMpire, though Empire no longer, was now dominated by the Republic.
"Order a charge from the left."
"Scouts report the taking of positions to that side, it's what they expect."
"Then have our flank attempt to flank them and order the Elephants to mak a go at the offesive they mounted to the right."
"It would expose our center to them sir."
"They're huddled down, it's a gamble I'm wil ing to take."
Torches lit the night sky. As to the heavens he cast his hopes, let me die here, Shiva, let me one final peace. A burial in my families tomb, a proper respect for a defender of Rome.
The people of Cumae were resoundingly monarchial, after long conversations with his parents he had convinced them to forget the kingdom lost to them and take up the banner of India. Rome was dead to them, buried in the muskets of the revolutionaries. It salved his soul to know that he would not be accounted a traitor by them, bt rarther a defender of the old regime, a monarchist to the end.
He could not forgive himself though. His family may see all his guilt absolved, but it was in no sense that way. Were he truely as they thought he would be a Crusader, like his brother, but he was not, h was a traitor to Ceaer, his king.
"Lord, let me die. Make me face no more days."
"Left flank reports a smal victory to their flank, they seem to be retreating."
A pause.
"Retreating... where?"
It was with that phrase that musketballs tore the night, tearing shreds into the center, into the midsts of command.
"Return fire, bring the reserves to the center immediately toss it all in their face."
Judas took up his sword, his gladius, rcently curved in the Indian style, a style which was used in Rome by theives and highwaymen.
Bursting forth from the tent Judas forced the men around him to form a flank, striking at the revolutionaries, whose bullets had been expended, leaving them with swordplay, an art far more suited for the Indians.
A Roman,weilding a musket as a crude bludgeon, charged Judas, who sidestepped and slit his stomach.
"I shall go to Hell if I must, but I shall provide an honor gaurd." he muttered, slicing into every struggle for every scrap of land. Devastating the Roman front, when not through his own efforts, through the inspiration his distaste for life provided the men with.
The Romans fell back slowly, dying on every inch, but fighting for the right to die on that inch, and no furthur back.
"Right flank reports their victory sir, the Romans retratd backwards this time," a lopsided grin was the mark on the aides face. Bloodsoaked Judas looked to the younger \man.
"Aye, so be it."
Crawling back to his tent he collapsed to a dissapointed slumber.
-
Boats were unloading silently at the dock, Axes, men, stood ready before the ships, delicate prayers lifted the spirits to anticipation.
"Let us go."
They stole away through the streets, towards the Barracks where a sleeping army awaited them. "Blow the door." the door was rammed and laid low.
Pikes greeted them, though the men wore no armor. Axes began to swing feircely into the group.
Suddenly shreiks greeted them from the other side, the other Berserkers had managed through the wooden walls and were attacking from the rear, the baatle was lost to the Indians.
"Surrender!" was the shout on every Norse lip.
There was no reply, but the stabs and cries of battle of the Pikemen.
"India has no stomache for war," a Berserker grinned to the General, after the battle was over.
"No," but he was not so sure, not a single pikeman had surrendered and if that was any indication he loathed the thought of meeting the people in the morn.
"We should pray."
"For what? Victory is secured!"
"For those destroyed by demons of their own design." A dreamy look in his eye, the general saw the nightmare spread before him.
Suddenly he wondered if it was such a good idea, there was an almost audible hum in the air, the hum of a giant turning it's attention on a gnat.
Lord help us, the General prayed.
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02-04-2003 09:04
But now I have been able to read through the whole thing and all I can say is: wow!
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