Heir of Aurelian

After defeating the Huns in a decisive battle, the western roman forces and their Gothic foederati moved on from their position, and headed east to chase after the Gepid war-band, and what remained of the eastern roman army.

When they finally encountered their targets, the romans witnessed the sight of the Gepid host basking in victory. The thousand men who accompanied Yazdegerd were brutally slain in combat, and their bodies dismembered. A mountain of heads lie in the middle of the road where individual barbarians continued to add to the pile.

To the side, the gepid king Athalaric was counting the coins taken from the corpses of the eastern roman soldiers before he gazed upon the sight of the approaching army. When he saw Sarus and his gothic warriors aligned with the abominable romans, the gepid king knew he had been played from the start. He could not help himself, but to call out to his old rival, and shame him for signing away his life in service of Rome.

“Sarus! You bow your head to the fucking romans! You and all your followers are a disgrace to your heritage. Was this your plan all along? Weaken my forces against the eastern roman forces, only to swoop in with your masters and claim my head? If you have even the slightest shred of honor left in your blackened soul, you will face me like a man in single combat!”

Marcellus instantly gazed towards Sarus with a shrewd expression on his handsome face. The man was practically shaking with rage at the mere accusation of selling his soul to Rome. Though Marcellus wanted nothing more than to work together with Sarus to eliminate the enemy in one fell swoop, he felt he owed it to the man to allow him to choose how to end his decade long rivalry. Thus, he sighed heavily before speaking the following words.

“Saurs… I will leave this to your discretion, whether you wish to fight him in a duel to the death, or slaughter him alongside his forces. Either way, you have my support.”

Sarus could hardly believe the words he heard the Imperator speak. Perhaps after years of butting heads the two of them had to begun to form some kind of bond.  In the year’s past, Marcellus would have simply denied the man such glory, and massacred the enemy with his army without asking for Sarus’ opinion. Yet now, he was allowing Sarus to make his own decisions. It would appear that this filthy roman who he had followed into battle for so many years was not such a detestable figure after all.

Thus, after nodding his head with a vicious grin on his face, Sarus approached the Gepid King where the two barbarians met together in between their two armies. Both Sarus and Athalaric glared at each other fiercely for several moments in silence, as they were waiting for one another to make the first move. Ultimately, Sarus was the first to speak in response to his old rival’s previous claims.

“What can I say? The Imperator has promised me your head, and that is a good enough reason for me to join him. You don’t think I have forgotten the trouble you have caused me all those years ago? If not for you, I never would have considered working for the Romans. But the pay is good, and now after all these years I can finally have my vengeance. If you think I will allow you to die with honor, guess again!”

Before Athalaric could even react. Sarus pulled out his seax, which hung from his waist, and threw it into the gepid king’s neck. Blood spouted out from the wound as if it were a fountain while the man slowly fell to his knees in disbelief. The entire gepid war-band gazed in horror as their mighty warrior king died from the sudden attack. After killing his rival, Sarus glared at Marcellus and yelled at him to initiate the attack.

“What are you waiting for? Charge!”

Marcellus was surprised to see that Sarus had behaved so dishonorably, but then again, he always was a bit of a snake. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why he enjoyed the man’s company so much. Regardless, after hearing Sarus’ words, Marcellus snapped back to reality and issued the order to charge.

“Charge!”

With that said, he couched the lance beneath his shoulder and snapped the reins of his horse, propelling it forward, barreling down the hillside and into the gepid ranks, who were still stunned by the sudden loss of their king.

A thousand horses and their riders clashed into the barbarian ranks with little resistance, the might of their lances skewering through the torsos of the enemy, and sending them to the afterlife. Not far behind the cavalry were the infantry of the Gothic foederati who clashed with the enemy with spear in hand.

It did not take long for the gepids to break ranks and flee for their lives. But how could they do so? They were on foot, and what few cavalry they had were chasing after the eastern roman regent. There was no escape for the barbarian menace, as the roman cavalry ruthlessly cut them down.

Those with a sense of honor stood and fought to the death, hoping to bring down at least one enemy warrior with them. These hopes were in vain, as they were vastly outnumbered, surrounded, and stabbed to death by multiple spears before they could even attempt to harm an enemy.

It was a merciless slaughter of the routing gepids. While Marcellus hunted down those who fled, Sarus withdrew his knife from his old rival’s neck and severed his head. After years of feuding with this man, he had finally emerged victorious. He intended to boil the flesh from the skull, and infuse it with gold so that he could turn it into a drinking glass. Which was a common tradition among the germanic peoples.

Not long after, the remnants of the Gepids were all put to the spear, and the roman army regrouped, searching for their primary target. Unfortunately, after searching through the pile of decapitated heads, they could not find that which belonged to Yazdegerd. Causing Marcellus to curse to the highest heavens for his ill fortune.

“God fucking dammit! He escaped! That fucking Persian serpent, I don’t know how he managed to survive that ambush, but one way or another, I swear I will take his life!”

Though Marcellus had failed to eliminate his primary target, he had in turn slaughtered the Gepids and Huns alike as well as their kings. Though the tribes would still be present on the borders of Rome for the foreseeable future, they had lost their monarchs and thousands of their greatest warriors. It was a huge blow, one that would keep them tame for some time.

Thus, Marcellus could only curse his poor luck and turn his army around so that they could return to their borders. Though Yazdegerd had escaped, he was currently being pursued by Gepid cavalry. It was uncertain if he would reach Constantinople in one piece.

However, even if Yazdegerd did survive the ordeal, he simply had no proof that the gepids responsible for his poor condition were hired by Marcellus. In the end, he would still be forced to pay the agreed ransom in order for Marcellus to keep maintain his silence about the scandalous actions the eastern roman army had taken on their western border. Thus, this negotiation, and the brief skirmishes that occurred after were all in Marcellus’ favor, and by extension the western roman empire as a whole.