Rainer leaped over a few dead soldiers riddled with arrows and reached the ladder just before the Roman formation on his side reached it.
"Aarrrh!"
Suddenly, he heard a scream and looked up just in time to find an auxiliary soldier falling to the ground. Rainer stepped aside and the soldier hit the ground hard. A javelin was thrust through his armor into his chest.
Rainer smacked his lips in regret, looked up, and began his climb, shield up.
It turned out the auxiliary archers had done a great job; there was a noticeable lack of enemy archer fire, even from the windows. As a result, he could calmly pace his climb. This as well as the fact that he hurt himself from that fall despite his expert fall, and needed time to recover.
Approaching the betterments, he quickened his pace.
Suddenly, a rebel with a forward pointed helmet peeked down at him, then drew out a javelin to throw downwards.
But this didn't slow Rainer down.
He deftly changed the grip on his shield, holding it sideways, then frisbeed the round reinforced shield up at the rebel before he could toss the javelin.
It smacked him on the head, ricocheting upward alongside his helm and the man fell back, unconscious.
Rainer slowed, arriving at the battlements. He could already smell the mix of fear and morbid anticipation the rebels exuded.
Spear at ready, he went up pointy end first.
On the wall before him stood at least six armored, mean-faced, rebel soldiers with crazed looks in their eyes.
They all stood ready to turn Rainer into a human kebab.
However, Rainer had a plan, a plan which had been cooking in his head ever since he saw Kotys' sketch of the garrison fort.
In an explosive burst of speed, he pushed fort, pierced the spear onto the battlement and skillfully pole-vaulted over their heads.
The world seemed to slow as the rebels mouths fell open, gazing up at Rainer who looked down at them with alarm.
The spear bent to its limit, cracking under the explosive force, as they stared at each other in stunned disbelief.
A few tried thrusting up at him, but missed remarkably, astounded at the bizarre siege-breaking technique being employed.
Rainer was stunned by his sudden burst of strength; he had meant to land behind them, but at the speed he soared, he was sailing up and over the battlement.
"NoOOo!"
He yelled as his hand left his spear, flying past. His hands briefly brushed the floor before slipping off the wall.
"..."
"..."
A strange silence settled over the rebels.
They looked from Rainer's handprint to each other with astounded expressions.
"That one's crazier than us!"
"I guess the Roman auxiliary recruit's anyone these days, scary."
–––
Boom!* *Boum!*
The ladder trembled as the battering ram rocked the gate below, sending tremors across the wall; Kotys hurried up as fast as any man in full armor could.
Above, the sounds of combat erupted; curses in native tongues, the clash of blades, the shrieks of the wounded, and then the gurgling of a dying man amidst the chaotic noise.
However, just before reaching the battlement, Kotys hesitated and glanced down briefly.
At the ground level, the centurions had regained control of the situation, and Roman auxiliaries had began climbing after him.
He exhaled and leaped up and over onto the wall. Immediately, his eyes scanned his surroundings.
To the side, a large black metal pot lay steaming on its side next to a pile of smoldering firewood. Two archers lay dead beside him, one with an arrow embedded in his head and the other in his neck.
Before him, three dead soldiers were dismembered on the wall, their blood creating a path toward Commius, who was faced off against two men with his gladius and a stolen shield.
Kotys grimaced, observing him.
Commius had sweat-soaked, reddened limbs, and various patches seemed to swell and wrinkle into ragged sheets. His movements were slightly awkward, and his pained frown revealed his distress. Yet he fought on, desperately.
Suddenly, Commius created some space between himself and his clearly experienced opponents, heaving heavy breaths. Then he glanced back and noticed Kotys.
At that moment, Kotys saw the dark red scald marks across a third of his face, over an open left eye.
"Kotys! Don't just stand there! Fight with m—"
However, before Commius could complete his sentence, Kotys hurled his spear toward him. It flew past him by an inch, punching through the mail of a rebel soldier who had lunged toward's Commius.
Commius appeared grateful, startled but grateful.
"Come to me!" He yelled, before turning to face his vexing opponent.
Kotys drew his gladius, but just as he was about to charge, he noticed someone spring up through the air over a few enemy soldiers at the far end of the wall.
Kotys could hardly believe his eyes.
"Rainer?"
–––
Chieftain Teres was a practical man, he saw life for what it was: A brutal arena only meant for the strong and lucky.
Yes, he was strong, but it appeared his luck had ran out.
He marched across the hall below the battlement, many dead and bleeding archers littered the floor—even less fought on, grittily firing down the window despite having an arrow or two plunged into them.
His hard, handsomely-angled face, weathered by a life of warfare was grim. But he did what he could, he nodded to those who met his gaze, patted the shoulders of those he passed by, and even attempted a smile but failing.
Teres was at his limits, the fury in him, irrepressible. He glanced down at the scroll on his belt and caressed it with guilt in his eyes.
He had doomed his men, and for this he prayed in his heart that he suffered the worst of punishments in the afterlife.
He suddenly glanced out the window, at the great mountain range in the east, and his lips twitched slightly.
'The Golden Gate. Is it really there? Has the land of the gods really appeared to us? Or is it something else—something evil?'
He let out scoff and shut his eyes with grief.
'Perhaps the underworld has come to me.'