Nintu: The Masters of Destiny and the Salvation of the Empire

Seguno, Asians

Penultimate month of 575

No sooner had he received his title as Magister Militum per Orientem, before Philipart's expedition was over, than Crásico began planning a military intervention, taking advantage of the fact that they were not so strong, to the tribes located northwest of Arachia.

Although not weak enough to underestimate them.

To ensure his victory -and with the permission of the Senate-, he took control of three legions: the I Robust, II Victrix and III Tutela.

And he formed two others with the levies of the cities of Asians. Which would be dissolved at the end of the operation.

He squandered the money in his coffers, not only in paying the soldiers, but also in buying supplies and food by the bucketload. Compared to Philipart, he wanted to be better prepared.

With that, he took his five legions to Seguno, a city bordering the tribes, where he commissioned one of his generals, Joaquinos Detanio, to train the IV Crásica and V Noma, who used the II Victrix as a resource to train them.

Once established, he ordered the reinforcement of the wall that protected the border to the I Robust and the III Tutela.

A considerable number of auxiliaries were left guarding the place, guaranteeing security.

The efficiency of the work led to the walls being quickly reinforced. And the high morale, which had spread among the new soldiers, contributed to the smooth completion of their training.

The moon rose in the skies, the legionaries rested, some drank, and others fornicated with prostitutes.

In his tent, Crásico, a smile formed on his face.

He felt satisfied with what he had accomplished in such a short time. In a few days he would begin the intervention.

On the map, he was putting the final touches to his plan: he would use the IV Crassica and V Noma to wear down the tribes -lucky the legionary who survived-, while the professional legions would strike the final blow.

"My lord," a lightly armored soldier stepped into the tent.

"Traugott, my boy!" He put aside his pen, approaching him. "I'm so glad to see you," he lifted a hand, patting him on the shoulder.

"Likewise, my lord."

"Ah!" He turned away from him. "Come, we've known each other for more than ten years, don't address me as you," he returned, haltingly, to the map on the table.

Traugott guffawed at his words, nodded and smiled back.

The boy approached the Magister, glancing sideways at the map he was drawing.

"How long will the operation last?"

"No more than a month."

Traugott nodded.

"Huh?" He said when he saw the map in detail. "Why, instead of causing the annihilation of the new legions, why do you use only the auxiliaries? Each legio brings five hundred; in total he would gather two thousand five hundred that, with the proper strategy, could resist the initial attacks of the tribes."

Crásico paused, focusing his full attention on the boy's next words.

"I think you should make the most of this operation. If the intervention is victorious, and, better yet, if a large part of the soldiers survive thanks to Magister Crásico's strategies! His reputation could grow very considerably, don't you think?"

His face lit up when he heard the last words.

According to him, with the majority support of the population, and, of the soldiers, he could do what he wanted without being criticized or frowned upon.

Motivated, he turned to Traugott, looking him straight in the eye.

"You said that, with a good strategy, we could use the two thousand five hundred auxiliaries to hold off the attacks of the tribes until, when they are worn out, we can send in the bulk of the army, right?"

The boy nodded.

"Then!" He went to a drawer, from which he took out a new map of the area, which he hastily placed on the table. "We must create this strategy," He looked at Traugott out of the corner of his eye. "Come help me, you have a good head for this."

A feeling arose in his chest, a feeling he could not understand, it felt good to be considered by the man he held in high esteem thanks to all he had taught him.

"Of cour..."

"Magister Crásico!" A soldier entered the tent without warning, interrupting him.

"What's the matter?" Crásico, offended by the intrusion, asked in a harsh tone.

"They are looking for you, my lord."

Crásico straightened up, put aside his pen, and approached the newcomer, questioning him as to who it was that requested his presence.

"It is Basileus Arcadio, my lord."

Andrio smiled, mockingly, as if unintimidated by the presence of the aforementioned.

Traugott, sighing at the ruined moment, put on his helmet, covering his face.

"Well, send him in, let's see what he who still believes he has power in the Empire wants," the soldier lost his neutrality, laughing at his comment. He then bowed and left the tent.

Crásico snapped his fingers, returning to the table. To which he fixed his gaze, incredulously, on Traugott, seeing him with his helmet.

"What's the matter, boy?"

Trau turned toward the exit.

"I for-forgot that General De-Detanio asked me to be on guard duty during the non-night," turning slightly towards Andrio, he bowed to him. "See you at dawn, my lord."

Crásico, with a smile, nodded at his words.

And, at a hurried pace, Traugott withdrew.

The man sighed, returning his eye to the map on the table, untraced because of the messenger's interruption.

"What to use the auxiliaries with," he whispered to himself.

He narrowed his eyes, remembering with analysis and detail everything Traugott had said.

"The now Magister militum per Orientem, Crásico," with noticeable mockery in his words, Arcadio stepped into the tent.

"Basileus Arcadio," he humored him, speaking in the same tone, moving closer to him. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Arcadio positioned himself in front of Crásico, raising his head, looking at him over his shoulder. Thus, with clear and blunt words, he sentenced:

"Give me some of your legions."

Crásico frowned, blinked repeatedly, and, as if on reflex, raised a finger, with which he wiped his ear.

"I think I misheard, can you repeat that?"

"I want you to give me control of some your legions to me."

Not knowing how to respond, wishing that what he had heard was a joke in very bad taste, he tried to evade it.

"I remind you that I am one of the Magisters of the Empire and you are just the pretty fase," he answered with sharp words towards Arcadio's dignity. "The truth is that there is nothing pretty about it."

The Basileus made an effort to keep his composure.

"Oh, I know. Still, you have to give me control of some legions."

"Crásico hesitated at his words, still wanting to evade them."

"Why would I have to? Try to make me," he stood firm, raising his head and imposing his figure before Arcadio.

"Ah, it's all right," he nodded repeatedly. "If you want it that way," after reaching into his clothes, he took out a roll of paper and handed it to Crásico. "There, now give me my legions."

The man fearfully opened the roll and began to read its contents:

 Former senator and now Magister per Orientem Andrio Canrrio Crásico. Basileus Arcadio requested permission to undertake an expedition to the south of the Nilus, in which he wishes to be the sole leader; which was approved. You are therefore obliged, by order of the whole Senate, to hand over to him at least three legions. And if you refuse, both your permission for the intervention to the northwest of Arachia and your title of Magister will be withdrawn.

Signature: Members of the Senate.

The roll of paper fell from his hands, his breathing became heavy.

Inwardly, he cursed the senators, who seemed to have turned their backs on him.

"I will wait at the entrance to the city for my legions," turning around, he emphasized his last words, after which he withdrew from the tent.

His body trembled, and, at a slow pace, he went to a chair to sit down and try to calm down.

"My lord," the words of that person came to him like a blessing. "Tra-Traugott," he looked at the boy with trembling eyes. "Now what am I going to do? We'll have to delay the intervention until we get more tropos," he slammed the table. "He must have something on his hands to make an expedition so soon after Philipart's return!"

"Calm, my lord," he approached him, patting him on the shoulder. "You must take advantage of the fact that he Basileus has no military experience, no knowledge of army structuring.

"Then tell me what he could do."

"Use the IV Crásica and V Noma legions to create a new one, divide them, so to speak, into a sixth called..." he paused briefly, thinking of a suitable name, "the VI Arcadia. That way it will be easier to evade it. Each legio would consist of only three thousand six hundred soldiers. A number that for us is not correct, but for Arcadius, it will be normal."

"And the two legions that he will receive, are the ones that were armed with the levies, while I will keep the professional ones."

"Exactly, but... for the sake of your plans, don't mention the war elephants."

"Relax, I'm not crazy enough to tell you about our new weapon," with the intention of withdrawing, he stood up. "Before I hand over your precious legions, do you have any other advice for me, my boy?"

Traugott smiled as he saw that Crásico heeded his words.

"Get more elephants, more men, supplies, and prepare. Not for intervention, but for any possible move Magister Philipart, or, Basileus Arcadio might make."

Crásico opened his eyes wide, managing to decipher what he was referring to.

"So, may the Nintu bless us."