That night, Ulixes stood alone in a secluded cove, far from the camp's lights or Salona. The rhythmic crash of waves on the sand was the only music in the silence. He gazed at the dark, boundless Adriatic Sea, a battlefield alien to him. He took a deep breath, the cold, salty air filling his lungs, then closed his eyes.
He was ready to summon his general. He focused his will on Artemisia's silver card in his mental inventory.
Just as he was about to activate it, a disturbance arose. A new sensation. An unexpected system notification shone in his mind.
Congratulations! You have obtained 'Item Card: Summon 10 Warships' from the Observing God.
Ulixes opened his eyes, slightly surprised. In his inventory, next to Artemisia's silver card, a second silver card now floated, depicting the silhouette of a warship. He was silent for a moment, then a thin, cold smile touched his lips. The gods had not just given him a general. They had given him an entire solution.
He no longer hesitated. He focused his entire will, not on one card, but on both silver cards. He was no longer just summoning a general. He was summoning a solution. He activated both simultaneously.
The previously calm sea before him began to churn. An unnatural, thick fog rolled in from the horizon with impossible speed, swallowing the moonlight and stars. From within the wall of fog, gigantic silhouettes emerged silently. One large and intimidating Quinquereme, flanked by nine sleek and fast Liburnian ships. They glided into the shallow waters like a ghost armada, their oars moving without rowers, their sails unfurled without wind.
On the deck of the main Quinquereme, the fog coalesced and formed a figure. A woman in exotic black leather armor, two curved swords sheathed at her hips. Her long black hair flowed, stirred by a wind Ulixes could not feel. She stood tall, her sharp, intense eyes fixed on the shore. Artemisia.
Ulixes felt the bond form instantly, an invisible yet absolute web of loyalty, binding the dangerous woman to his will.
Artemisia's voice carried across the water, clear and sharp above the sound of the waves. "You summoned me with my armada, Roman. Your command?"
Ulixes looked up at his new admiral, standing on the deck of her ship, unintimidated by the power he had just unleashed.
"This sea is full of rats," he replied, his voice calm. "Cleanse them."
On the ship's deck, amidst the thinning fog, a cruel, satisfied predatory smile spread across Artemisia's lips.
With agile and unhesitating movements, Artemisia descended from her main ship, landing silently on the wet sand. She walked towards Ulixes, her dark cloak billowing behind her, her sharp eyes scanning the Legatus from head to toe. She stopped directly in front of him, the scent of sea and leather clinging to her.
"I see her ships, Roman," she said, her voice sharp as a sword's edge. "Where are my troops?"
Ulixes did not waver under her piercing gaze. "Tomorrow," he replied calmly, "I will give you two thousand soldiers from my elite legion. They will be your sword. I expect good results."
A thin smile, almost a sneer, touched Artemisia's lips. She seemed satisfied with the quality of the promised troops. "Of course," she hissed.
"Follow me," Ulixes said curtly. "You will stay at my residence. It's warmer there than on an empty ship deck."
Ulixes turned from the shore, not looking back. He knew the woman would follow him.
They walked in silence through the deserted streets of Salona in the middle of the night. Their steps were synchronized, not from training, but from the instinct of two predators moving with the same purpose.
When they arrived at the praetorium, Mira and Kore greeted them in the atrium. They bowed respectfully to Ulixes, but their eyes were fixed on Artemisia with cold wariness. They recognized danger when they saw it.
Ulixes saw the Egyptian waiting in the shadows of the pillars. "Egyptian," Ulixes called softly. "Go to Flamma. Tell him I need two of his best Centuria to secure the secluded port to the south. Ten new ships have arrived. Make sure no one approaches them without my permission."
The Egyptian nodded and vanished. The command, spoken calmly, was a display of power that did not escape Artemisia's notice.
Ulixes led her to a private balcony overlooking the dark sea. He poured two goblets of wine.
"I've seen your maps," Artemisia said, breaking the silence as she accepted the goblet. She did not drink it, only stared at the sea. "Those pirates are cowards. They hide in these coves," she said, pointing with her chin towards the jagged coastline in the distance.
"That's why I need you," Ulixes replied. "I need an expert to clear out those rat nests."
Artemisia turned to him, her sharp eyes glinting in the moonlight. "I will give you a clean sea, Ulixes," she said, using his name for the first time.
She raised her goblet. "To our hunt," she said.
Ulixes raised his own goblet. "To victory," he countered. They drank in silence, two unlikely allies, bound by divine loyalty and the promise of future fire and blood.
The morning after the summoning, the air in the camp felt different. Two thousand soldiers, hand-picked by their Centurions as the strongest and most disciplined, gathered in the main square. They did not know their purpose, only that they were ordered to bring light combat gear and rations.
Ulixes, with Flamma, led the column out of the main camp, not towards the forest, but along a hidden path leading to the coast. They marched in complete silence, two thousand pairs of leather sandals hitting the ground with a deadly rhythm.
When they arrived at the secluded cove and the sight before them was revealed, even the toughest Spartan-spirited soldiers paused for a moment. On the clear blue water, ten sleek black warships were anchored. One large and menacing Quinquereme like a sea monster, flanked by nine agile Liburnians like wolves. They did not look like Roman ships. They looked like weapons.
At the end of the newly built wooden pier stood a figure. Artemisia. She simply stood there, arms crossed, watching the two thousand approaching soldiers with the cold gaze of a blacksmith assessing the quality of steel.
Ulixes stopped his troops before her. "Admiral," he said, his voice clear. "These are your swords." He gestured to the two thousand soldiers standing in perfect formation.
He then turned to face his troops. "From today, you no longer report to your Centurions. You do not report to Primus Pilus Flamma. You do not report to me." He paused for a moment, then pointed to Artemisia. "You report to her. Her command is my command. Her will is my will. Understand?"
A simultaneous roar that shook the air was their answer. "YES, LEGATUS!"
Artemisia stepped forward, walking along the front ranks, her sharp eyes scanning every face, every scar, every tense muscle.
"I've heard about you," she said, her voice sharp and without warmth.
She stopped in the middle of them. "These ships are my body. You are its blood. Weak blood, hesitant blood, blood that disobeys my orders even before I utter them..." She smiled faintly, a smile that promised nothing but pain. "...I will throw into the sea to feed the fish."
There was no pause. No time to adjust. After her brief, cold speech, Artemisia's first command rang out. "Board the ships! We start with the oars!"
For the next few weeks, the secluded cove turned into a training hell. Ulixes observed from the deck of his main ship, the Quinquereme, watching his new admiral reforge his land legion into a naval force.
Her methods were brutal and efficient. On the first day, the two thousand Spartan-spirited soldiers were ordered to row. They, accustomed to the strength of their legs and backs during marches, were now forced to learn a new rhythm. Under the scorching sun, Artemisia stood on the deck, beating a large drum with relentless rhythm, faster and faster. Sweat drenched the soldiers' bodies, their shoulder and arm muscles screamed in protest, but not one of them stopped. They rowed until their hands blistered and their backs felt like they would break, the Spartan spirit within them refusing to show weakness.
In the following days, she trained them in boarding enemy ships. Two Liburnian ships would sail side by side, and at her command, the soldiers would jump from one deck to another, practicing fighting on swaying wooden planks. The fighting was chaotic and violent. Some soldiers fell into the sea and were forced to swim back to the ship with their heavy armor, a harsh lesson in balance.
On one occasion, Artemisia herself leaped into their midst. Her hard wooden training sword moved like lightning. She danced among the soldiers, deflecting attacks, sweeping legs, and incapacitating three of the best soldiers in the blink of an eye. She did not do it to show off. She did it to assert her dominance. Her message was clear: she was not just a commander, she was the strongest predator in this sea.
Her discipline was absolute. When a soldier made a mistake in tying a sail rope, endangering the ship's maneuver, Artemisia stopped all training. The man was tied to the mainmast. The sound of the whip lashing through the air and landing on the man's back was the only sound in the cove, a grim reminder to everyone that the sea showed no mercy, and neither did their admiral.
Ulixes observed everything in silence. He saw the cruelty in her methods. But he also saw the results. He saw his previously clumsy soldiers now moving on deck with the confidence of a sailor. He saw them looking at Artemisia not with love, but with a mixture of fear and respect as hard as steel. He had unleashed a monster to lead his wolves, and the results were beginning to show.