AUTHOR'S THOUGHT : This is an old story draft. The chapter is not long. I just wanted to show that I will be continuing the story from here.
The news of the destruction on Sciron Island spread like a plague. Not through official Roman messengers, but through a much faster and more honest channel: fear. The merchants of Salona were the first to hear. They spoke in hushed, awestruck whispers of a phantom fleet appearing from nowhere and a horrifying crucifixion ship found adrift in open water. For the first time in a decade, a sense of security began to return to the Adriatic trade routes.
However, that same news of victory sounded very different in the inland hills.
Inside his praetorium, Ulixes listened to the report from the Egyptian. His network had worked perfectly.
"The Delmatae chieftains have gathered at a hidden fortress," the Egyptian reported, his voice a dry hiss. "They are enraged, Dominus. They see the destruction of the pirate outpost not as an attack on pirates, but as an attack on their monopoly of power in this region."
Ulixes nodded slowly. Just as he had suspected.
"They see a Roman Legatus," the Egyptian continued, "who not only conquered their fortress on land, but now dares to claim the sea. They feel insulted. Threatened. They are planning their retribution."
"Good," Ulixes said.
The Egyptian paused. "Dominus?"
"Let them plan," Ulixes said, his eyes fixed on a map of Illyricum. "Let their anger blind them."
A few days later, Flamma entered the map room where Ulixes spent most of his time. The Primus Pilus' face was as hard as stone, his eyes showing a controlled concern.
"Reports from our scouts confirm the Egyptian's intelligence," Flamma said without preamble. "The Delmatae chieftains have mustered over five thousand warriors. They are moving south, towards our border."
Ulixes did not turn from the map. "They have taken the bait."
Flamma frowned. "Bait, Legatus? We have two thousand of our best soldiers at sea with the Admiral. Our ground force is diminished. They don't see it as bait. They see it as an opportunity."
"Precisely," Ulixes said, finally turning to face Flamma. There was a cold glint in his eyes. "They see our fleet sailing away and assume we have split our strength. They think our main camp is weak. They think I'm a fool."
He pointed to a location on the map, a small guard post marked with the name Castellum Lucis. "They won't attack Salona directly. That would be foolish, and they are not that stupid. They will attack here. Close enough to be an insult, weak enough to be seen as an easy victory. They want to draw us out."
Flamma stared at the map, then back at his Legatus, understanding dawning on his face. "You... you want them to attack that guard post."
"I want them to shed blood," Ulixes replied, his voice calm. "I want them to give the Senate in Rome the perfect reason why I should flatten their hills to the ground." He smiled thinly. "An angry snake doesn't think clearly. It just strikes. And when it strikes, we will break its fangs."
Three days later, just as the pale light of dawn began to creep over the hills, hell exploded at Castellum Lucis. Thousands of enraged Delmatae warriors burst from the surrounding forests, their war cries shattering the morning's silence. They crashed against the small guard post like a savage tidal wave.
The Roman garrison inside, a mere two hundred men, did not panic. Their warning trumpets shrieked, and the disciplined Spartans quickly formed a solid shield wall behind the low wooden palisade. Arrows and javelins rained down on them, but their formation did not waver.
The battle was brutal and short. The Delmatae fighters scaled the walls, their heavy axes and swords clashing against Roman shields and gladii. The Spartans fought with cold ferocity and discipline, every thrust and cut taking a toll. They held off the first wave, then the second, turning the ground in front of them into a slaughterhouse.
But the enemy's numbers were too great. The third wave finally broke through. The shield wall splintered, and the battle devolved into a chaotic close-quarters fight within the narrow courtyard.
The Delmatae warriors, in their blind fury at the unexpected resistance, showed no mercy. They butchered the wounded legionaries, stomping on the fallen. After the last resistance was put down, they plundered what they could carry and burned the post to the ground, leaving a pile of blackened timber and the corpses of their brethren as a clear message of contempt for Rome. They had drawn first blood.
Less than an hour later, a bloodied and exhausted horseman arrived at the gates of the praetorium in Salona. He was the sole survivor of Castellum Lucis, a decanus who had managed to escape in the chaos. He was brought directly before Ulixes.
The man knelt, gasping for breath, his eyes wild with shock and exhaustion. "Legatus... they came... thousands... we tried to hold... but they..." He couldn't continue, his voice choked by sobs. "They butchered everyone. Even those who surrendered."
Ulixes stared at the soldier, his face devoid of expression. He showed no anger. He showed no sadness. He simply nodded slowly. "You have done your duty, soldier," he said calmly. "Now rest. You are safe."
He gestured to a guard to take the man to a medic. After the room was quiet again, Ulixes turned and walked out of his praetorium, his steps steady and purposeful.
He strode directly to the main camp, where his four thousand ground-based Spartan soldiers were training. His presence instantly brought all activity to a halt. The entire camp fell silent, all eyes on him. He climbed onto a small wooden platform typically used for speeches.
He looked out at the sea of soldiers before him.
"The Delmatae have shed the blood of our brothers," he said, his voice calm yet echoing throughout the silent camp. "They think we are weak. They think we are afraid."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Today," he continued, his voice now rising, filled with a cold, steely edge, "we will teach them a lesson about true fear."
He drew his sword, raising it high into the air.
"LEGIO I ILLYRICA... PREPARE FOR WAR!"
The roar that erupted from four thousand throats was not the sound of men. It was the sound of an earthquake. The sound of a coming storm. The sound of a bloodthirsty vengeance.