Act 2 Chapter 4

And the plot thickens.

Chapter 4

Caligula, Ethias, and Cartas stood observing the Legionaries outside of the Fort. They watched as the soldiers dug into the dirt and scooped out heaps of it with their trenching tools. There was a trench here previously, but it hadn't been used in days. The Carthaginians had failed to concentrate efforts along the entirety of the Fort's perimeter, so some sections hadn't seen use in over a month or so. Some of the men carried barbed-wire bales with them, unrolling them out beyond the trench itself and into the path of the approaching enemy. There was no time to set out landmines, since they had maybe half an hour until they were in the thick of battle. Machine guns were set up as well, with spare boxes containing belts stacked up high.

As a group of men hurried past the three officers carrying planks of wood for the flooring, Caligula turned to the two men.

“So! So. So so. What can you two fine gents do? Besides kill. That's a given. Maybe.”

He was ill at ease, and this was obvious to the two veteran officers. They both shared a private smirk with each other, hiding their faces from Caligula. He was inexperienced. Sure, he had fought in some cavalry skirmishes before, but nothing serious. He hadn't made a name for himself yet in the world of war. He had killed a few men before, but never butchered them. To him, war was still mysterious and still held a trace of glory. The veterans new differently.

“Why sure, we can kill.” Ethias spoke first, mouthing his words around the cigarette stub in his mouth. He reached up to flick it into the dirt. A boot met it as it hit the ground, and smothered it to bits.

“Aye, we can. But then, so can most men when given the chance. A better question is: how do we kill? 'When do we kill?' works as well.” Cartas threw this is as well, following up his companion's statement.

“Well...I supposed. I guess. Sure then, how and when do you kill?”

This time, they didn't hide their smirks and chuckles. Ethias started laughing, but then broke into a coughing fit. This prompted Cartas to laugh harder. After a few minutes of subjecting Caligula to this treatment, they ceased and spoke again.

“We kill with efficiency and determination, strength and finesse, honorably and with nondiscrimination,” began Ethias.

“And we kill when we're told to, as we're told to, and only when we're told to,” finished Cartas.

And together they chanted, “Such is the way of the Praetorians, Guardians of Rome.”

A shocked, yet awed, look came over Caligula. He stared at the two men with renewed interest. They were both shorter than he, both smaller in girth. He had just assumed them to be ill-tempered officers, who had rose through the ranks slowly and without interest. In short, he thought them below himself. Now, Caligula knew differently.

“Praetorians! Wha-, who-, why are you here? Shouldn't you be protecting someone important? Like the professor? Or the Emperor, for the gods' sake?”

“We are, Caligula. Protecting someone important, that is. You think your father would let you enter the same battleground, let alone the same continent, as the Hammer by yourself?”

Caligula paused for a short while. He forgot sometimes about his father. About what he went through to protect Caligula in small ways. His appointment to Decurion was due in part to his father political clout, allowing him to bypass the service-length requirement for such a prestigious promotion. It made sense now, though Caligula, that these two men would be here to protect him. His father wouldn't coddle him or keep him out of combat, but he would make sure he had an edge. A pair of Praetorians was a very sharp edge indeed.

“Aye, I suppose. But enough talk! We should help out these men. That is, if I still outrank you gents.”

Cartas gave a smile while shaking his head, and then walked off to help lay down the flooring to the trenches nearest the group. Ethias adjusted his shouldered rifle, and gestured towards the men setting up barbed-wire.

“Of course you do, sir. So now it's after you, m'lord.”

They both went to help with the bales of wire that needed laying. Ethias dropped his pack and rifle inside the trench and clambered down after them. Picking up a set of wire-cutters and a hammer, he climbed up the other side and jogged over to a couple of legionaries heaving around a bale. Caligula followed suit, except when he walked up the the struggling men he just dropped his tools on the ground.

“Allow me, gentlemen. Take up those tools, and you can do my job.”

With this, he sat down on one knee and heaved the bale upon his shoulder. Grunting, Caligula stood up with the bale.

Straining from the weight, he gave commands to the men and Ethias.

“Alright, one of you run ahead and hammer in some stakes. Someone else, help wrap the wire around said stakes. The last guy can cut the wire where necessary. We've got less than twenty minutes left, so let's get a move on!”

So the soldiers of Rome began a very fast-paced laying effort of barbed-wire. One of the men took up a bundle of stakes laying not far from them and sped off away from the trench. He rammed stakes into the ground at decent distances, smashing them deeper with his hammer. As he zipped on, Caligula managed a sort of fast strut following the stakes. He would weave back and forth between them, pausing only to adjust the bale to allow more wire to drop to the ground. He could feel cuts digging into his shoulder, but he ignored them. As his father always said, a little blood only serves to grease the wheels of productivity. The last two men, Ethias and a legionary, would follow close behind Caligula, wrapping the wire and snipping it in sections. This was to make sure that if one section was pulled down, the entire stretch would not collapse with it.

Within fifteen minutes, they had finished a decent length of the trench. Other teams had been working longer, so a formidable barrier of wood and wire stood between the approaching dust cloud, no doubt containing thousands of Carthage horsemen, and the defenders who were now taking their positions in their trenches. Sandbags had been piled up across the outer edge, and firing slots were laid out at certain intervals. All in all, about four thousand legionaries were sitting in the trench line. The remaining soldiers were waiting inside the wall at various heights. They would serve as snipers, spotters, medics, and other various roles. They would also be manning the remaining artillery pieces, which out of seventy only about seventeen were working and had ammunition. No Roman cavalry would ride out to meet the Carthage force. There were only fifty or so horses still healthy enough to be ridden, and the Carthage army was mostly comprised of horsemen. They were the main reason Rome still fought with swords often. The Mongols and Aztecs had at least adapted modern firearms.

So, as the antique but massive force rapidly closed in on the defenders, an order went out from the Centurion. He had arrived, with Cassius at his side, a few moments after Caligula, Ethias, and Cartas met up in the trenches. As he spoke, he glanced up to the section of the wall that held Valencia, Archimedes, and Cicerus.

“Soldiers of Rome! Brothers in arms! Give me but a moment! We now face what is the beginning of the end. The end of this war, the end of lives, the end of the world as we know it! We will be hard pressed, from here on out, by wave after wave of Carthaginian savage. We will have no reprieve, no rest, and no mercy until our brothers arrive to liberate us from this Bastion of Hell! And so, just remember this. Fight bravely in the coming battles. For cowards die many times throughout their lives, fearing the inevitable and never living free. But the valiant die but once! For they accept the unknowing path of fate, and die in such a way that no one will ever forget their name! For Honor! For Glory! For Rome!”

As the trenches erupted with war cries and shouts of bravery, the Carthage force arrived in truth. The Battle for Dakar had begun.

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The five companions still sat around the table Cassius's room on the Blooded Bull. They'd been there for hours, just now realizing that dawn should be approaching. Each of them was tired and a bit exhausted. Dante seemed to suffer the least of them, since even Augustus was looking a bit less enthusiastic than normal.
"So, that's what happened before things got really bad." Cassius spoke to the group, although he was looking directly at Dante.
"So, you guys weren't really separated during that time for long? I mean, except for Miss Valencia that is. And you all just met then?"
This time, Caligula spoke up. "No, not necessarily. We were separated during the fighting, but we knew where each other was. Or rather, we knew where they generally were. It wasn't until the major fighting hit that we ended up all together."
"And, Cali and Cassius had met before, remember," chimed in Valencia. She was suffering the worse out of all of them, having nothing to lean against and dealing with her agitating injuries. Her hair was beginning to fall out of its styled look, causing it to just fall around her shoulders. She brushed it out of her eyes as she watched Dante turn to face Augustus.
"What about you Augustus? What happened to you? You mentioned something about you being there, earlier.”

Now, they all turned to face Augustus. Caligula, Dante, and Valencia all looked on with questioning glances. Augustus look across at them, smiling slightly and scratching at his beard. While he was doing this, he was really focusing on Cassius. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man look on with a hard look.

“Yes, Augustus, tell us what happened with you.”

This cold order did not surprise Augustus. For the past two weeks, Cassius had been acting oddly around him. Even though they were old acquaintances, they had never really known each other. Augustus knew as much about Cassius as anyone really did, and Cassius just knew that Augustus had been in the Legion for decades. Even with this formality, it was still strange for Cassius to act this cold towards someone. Merciless killer and adamant perfectionist that he was, Cassius still treated those he knew with some sort of respect or warmth. He was, after all, still human.

“Er, yeah. I might've let slip that I was there a wee bit. Not a whole lot, though. Just some standing around and watching the clouds.” Augustus tried to slide the question off and move on from this topic.

“Clouds, really? I didn't notice any. Sure weren't any when the Hammer struck. We all remember a blue sky. Very clear, very revealing. Right, Augustus?”

“Damn,” thought Augustus. “What's this kid's angle?”

“You don't want to know what I did. I just attended Hephaestus and his lads. Cleaned some cuts, saw some death. Same as every war.”

“I doubt that.”

Now, Cassius stood up. He leaned forward, hands stretched out over the table. A hard look came across his face.

“You're not who you've been acting like. People like you die quite quickly, or go insane. No regular, run-of-the-mill grunt lives as long as you and sings a happy tune.”

At this, Augustus knew things were serious. He thought that something must be really bothering Cassius, for him to burst out like this. He'd been awfully talkative ever since boarding from New Rome. Socializing with the crew at times, neglecting training with his sword and guns, and acting in a manner not entirely depressing to normal men. Augustus stood up to match Cassius. He dropped the smile and decided to play along.

“Alright kid. What do you want? We're just telling a story here. Something eating ya?”

Cassius just continued to glare and only said, “You know what I'm talking about. Augustus.”

The other three in the room felt terribly awkward. It hadn't been extremely hare to tell the story to young Dante, definitely not hard enough to drive up Cassius's emotions. Something else must be on his mind, reasoned Caligula and Valencia. Dante just felt a tad bit scared of the two men.

“Um...I think I've heard enough for now. We've been here for so long...”

Valencia jumped at the opening Dante created. “Yes! He's right. We've got duties, we're hungry, and tired. Let's call a break, yes?”

As she moved to struggle up, Caligula leaped out of his seat to assist her. He tossed one of her arms around his shoulder to help her walk out. Even though she could technically walk, sitting down for several hours hadn't made her injuries any better. It was better for her to have support, and Caligula was the next best thing to crutches if not the actual best thing.

When the got to the doorway, the pair stopped and Valencia called back, “I guess we'll see you later, maybe this evening? We should all have a nice, calm dinner without spontaneous outbursts of suspicion.” And with that, Caligula lead his friend out of the doorway and off to her quarters where he would ensure that she had plenty of rest. Augustus shook his head and headed out as well. He stopped and made as if he was about to say something to Cassius, but instead kept walking. This just left Dante and Cassius together, a situation that pleased Dante not a bit.

“Um...so...” squeaked the mouse. “I guess I'll just...leave too. If that's OK! I think it is...”

Cassius turned a hard look upon Dante.

“Optio.”

“Er...yes, Legate Cassius sir?”

“You're muttering. It's weak and shows uncertainty. How can one ever find you strong if you can't even conquer your own doubts? I'll answer that for you: no one ever will. You'll be weak and forgotten. Now take this advice and leave my sight. I've lost the mood for socializing.”

Dante scurried out without another word at this command, finally leaving Cassius to himself. He rose from the table and kicked back his chair, ignoring the smashing sound as it crashed into the wall. He briskly moved for the door, slamming it shut. This was no easy feat, since the steel doors weighed several dozens pounds. Dreadnaughts seemed to be full of redundancies, since these doors were designed to resist almost every type of explosive short of several tons of nitroglycerin in the even of a boarding. Not that any ship has ever managed to put a dent in the hull of a dreadnaught, let alone get close enough to board one. Yet in Cassius's current state of agitation, he looked as if he could punch a hole straight through the walls. Private fits of rage were not uncharacteristic for the man, since no one can remain calm and cold all the time.

Damn that man, he thought, damn him to hell! Cassius shoved the table from the middle of the room with a well-placed boot. This gave him room to pace down the length of the room, which he of course did. The thoughts racing through his mind were varied in emotion. Most were of rage, some of pride, and just a tiny speck were of sympathy. This was due to a sudden realization that had hit him halfway through the group's recounting of the events at Dakar. Throughout the entire telling, he had been distracted over the papers he still held in his pocket, committing part of his mind to deciphering the sections that were cryptic. But it wasn't until he realized Augustus would tense up a bit at every mention of the Hammer. This lead to him remembering Augustus mentioning that he was with Hephaestus during the battle. And then, it all clicked. Checking to make sure he was correct, Cassius removed the folded documents from their holding place, and sorted through them until he came to a printed letter. He read it in his head:

Gentlemen and loyal Soldiers of Rome,

You have been picked for your well-placed and correct loyalty in the Caesar, Emperor Sevarius Octavius II. This final foray into the heart of the treacherous “New Roman Republic” will be one of glory and triumph. You few lucky men have been chosen to receive more than the normal allotted. You are tasked with securing the Traitor. You all know who he is, and what he is capable of. I have no doubt that many of you will be killed either by his hand, or the hands of those he was trained. He is formidable, he is vicious, but he is still a man. If you cannot win over him by force, use guile. Secure his friends and comrades-in-arms, and give them this offer: Any and all who submit to the will of the Caesar and turn in the Traitor Gaius Cassius XII will be exempt from any accusations of treason and the punishments that would arise from said accusations. Furthermore, should the Traitor be brought to me in chains, I will allow the Republic to continue its existence, free from the, as they have said, “yoke of the tyrannical Empire.” Such claims are base and false, but let the fools have their ideals. No doubt their leaders have decided to resist capture by any means, so the people of New Rome will fall back into our glorious dominion. Should further assistance be required, seek out Vulpes. He's been tasked, ever since the reign of my father, to keep an eye on Hephaestus. After all, national heroes can't just walk away from their country.

Your Divine Eminence,

Emperor Sevarius Octavius II

Caesar of Rome

Heir of the World

He had planned to reveal the letter to his companions after the recap. The rest of the documents were, he originally thought, irrelevant. Just a few maps and brief dossiers on the leading political and military figures of New Rome, including himself, Caligula, and Valencia. But now with his sudden revelation, these were evidence. Instead of confronting his friends about how this unknown “Vulpes” might have lead to the downfall of their nation and how he or she needed to be hunted down, Cassius would take a different course. He would have liked to explain his guilt at hiding this chance of salvation from his friends in exchange for his own freedom and certainly his life, but it did not matter now. Confrontation of a different sort was needed, and this one would not be amongst friends. Shaking his head, Cassius tossed the papers onto the table, opened the door, and started his way towards the deck. He grabbed his gun belt on the way out, buckling his Cato revolver to his side. He was going to need it.