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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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The Varangians, as the emperor’s personal guard, always moved with him.
This meant that the battlefields where the Varangians were deployed were always fierce. Unfortunately, however, this battlefield was a little different.
“Symbatios! You rat! How long will you keep hiding?!”
Adramyttion, overlooking the island of Lesbos, was located at the tip of a long bay. It was the only place in Thrakēsiōn, a land of mountains and hills, with a wide-open plain.
However, that didn’t mean the terrain was flat. Symbatios and Peganes’s army, who had arrived before us, had already occupied the high ground. The imperial commanders, already outnumbered due to the hastily assembled army, chose to maintain a standoff, waiting for reinforcements from other thema (Theme, regions).
It was a very rational, textbook approach, but my presence became a variable…
The emperor, unable to simply let time pass while hosting a distinguished guest, desired a more aggressive attack.
‘At first glance, it seems like the reckless action of a debauched and foolish emperor…’
But in reality, it was a move with more complex political calculations.
The rebel leader, Symbatios, had risen up against the emperor, claiming that Basileios’s appointment as co-emperor was unjust.
His main point was that people from Macedonia, meaning this region and the land across the sea, were favored, while those from Asia Minor were discriminated against. If the situation dragged on, there was no guarantee what the strategoi of Asia Minor, Anatolia, who already harbored resentment towards both the emperor and Basileios, would do.
Both the emperor and the co-emperor had to crush Symbatios swiftly.
‘The longer Symbatios holds out, the greater his chances of victory. If the war drags on longer than expected, the emperor will have to reconsider. Deposing Basileios and appointing Symbatios would resolve the immediate crisis.’
So, surprisingly, the one in the most urgent situation here was co-emperor Basileios.
“The terrain they occupy is high and wide. It’s not easy to maneuver the Tagmata. Your Majesty, we must push through with force. The Skoutatoi (Skoutatoi, infantry) must hold out long enough for the Tagmata to flank them.”
“Hmm-”
The initial skirmishes on the first day were light clashes between units of 100 (Kentarchia). It was like throwing jabs to gauge the opponent’s condition.
The prediction that the rebels would collapse on their own hadn’t come to fruition yet. The troops of Thrakēsiōn and Opsikion were still following Symbatios’s command.
“Alright, Basileios. Let’s divide the Tagmata into five Droungos (Droungos, battalion) and flank them. In a wide circle. You will personally lead them, co-emperor.”
“Your orders, Your Majesty!”
“I will personally lead the Skoutatoi.”
“But Your Majesty…!”
“Your Majesty!”
The emperor’s bombshell declaration filled the grand and ornate tent with the cries of his commanders.
‘Michael must have read too many epic poems.’
I enjoyed fighting at the front lines myself… but honestly, it was only possible because I was as strong as I was. If you could catch arrows flying at your back with your bare hands, then it was fine. But Michael wasn’t like me, was he?
“Your Majesty…! That is not how a Roman emperor displays his valor…! Please reconsider and inspire our brave Roman soldiers from the rear, allowing them to fulfill their duties…!”
Rentakios, clearly lacking the composure and calmness of the seasoned Damian I had met in Cherson, desperately tried to change the emperor’s mind, but this chariot enthusiast seemed determined.
“Enough.”
Unlike his usual boisterous and impulsive demeanor, he spoke in a low, serious voice, silencing everyone.
“Look at the glorious emperors of Rome: Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Aurelian, Heraclius. Not one of our great predecessors shied away from battle. They crushed every enemy they faced.”
“But none of those great men personally wielded a sword…!”
“How can you be so sure, my dear subject, Rentakios? Then what about Alexander, the king of Greece and god of Egypt? Didn’t the greatest conqueror personally strike down Darius of Persia with his sword?”
“But…”
Rentakios couldn’t continue. He probably wanted to say, “But you are not Alexander, Your Majesty Michael!”
“My co-emperor Basileios will personally lead the Tagmata on horseback. He is doing what he must as a Roman, but what about Konungr Helgi here?”
Michael pointed at me with a calm voice and expression.
“My good friend, Konungr Helgi, willingly joined the battlefield for Rome and me, even though he is not a Roman. Konungr Helgi, forgive my impudence, but I have a question for you.”
“Speak freely.”
“When our Roman infantry marches and our cavalry charges, will you simply stand back and watch?”
I couldn’t do that, since I came to fight.
“I will not. I do not seek out fights, but I do not shy away from them either.”
Since it was ultimately up to the emperor and his subjects to decide, I simply stated the facts without expressing any personal opinions, but it seemed to be enough for the emperor.
“I see, thank you. Konungr Helgi. Now, Rentakios, and all you proud citizens of Rome. This is why I must fight. Am I not the emperor of Rome? So let us speak no more of my place.”
The generals, though not all with expressions of agreement, no longer voiced their objections to the decisively delivered order.
Their eyes even seemed to hold a certain respect.
Of course, Rentakios’s face turned even paler, as if he was about to grab the emperor’s sleeve. Basileios, maintaining his poker face but with subtly shifting facial muscles, smiled as if impressed, but the chill in his eyes deepened.
“I will accept Basileios’s suggestion. Prepare for battle, Rome.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
As the Romans bowed their heads in unison, my eyes met Michael’s, who was also bowing slightly.
Michael’s eyes were smiling brightly.
Sporadic skirmishes continued for two more days.
We probed for their weaknesses, and they observed our movements from above and responded accordingly.
The time for brave detachments and scouts to gauge each other’s strength while risking their lives was over. Now, the real clash was approaching.
Thrakēsiōn, Opsikion, Optimatoi, Boukellariōn.
A civil war involving four thema (Theme) of the empire.
Enemy forces: 20,000. Mostly heavy infantry, relatively few cavalry.
Allied forces: Approximately 19,000. Significantly fewer heavy infantry than the enemy, but a large number of elite cavalry. Special units: Varangian Guard and Aros warriors.
[Baaaaam- Boooooong-]
[Baaaam- Baaaam-]
Metal horns and trumpets blared loudly, and following the plan formulated over three days, Rome’s renowned military system moved in unison.
‘The lieutenants are truly skilled. They know exactly what they need to do.’
I had wondered if I had mistakenly joined someone else’s war, but now I felt like my eyes had been opened.
I had said I would personally wield a sword, but I was still stationed in the rear as a reserve force, leading the Varangian Guard and a small contingent of Scholae cavalry, alongside the emperor. Although I couldn’t see everything with my own eyes,
my senses, which had already transcended human limitations, relayed the situation on the vast battlefield in real time.
The 14,000 infantry, a sizable force considering they had been hastily assembled, were divided into seven units of 2,000, each further divided into five Droungos, moving in formation, maintaining distance to minimize exposure to enemy fire.
Dividing the troops like this allowed for much greater flexibility. Of course, it required rigorous training to make it possible.
“Tagmata-! Charge!”
“Signalman! Sound the horns! Move swiftly!”
The 3,000 Tagmata were split in half, flanking the enemy before them, left and right. Basileios led the left, and Basiliskianos the right.
The enemy cavalry would emerge to counter the flanking maneuver, but they were no match for the imperial cavalry, both in number and skill. They wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.
Ultimately, our heavy infantry, acting as the anvil, had to clash fiercely to draw out the enemy reserves that had been deployed to counter our cavalry.
‘Good. Then my task is clear.’
My role was simple: to crush the enemy before me with overwhelming force.
“Alright, we advance too! Forward!”
“Forward!”
All of Rome’s renowned archers were stationed in Trapezounta in the Black Sea region of Asia Minor, so both sides lacked dedicated ranged units like archers. However, the javelin throwers, with their long tradition, and a few archer battalions unleashed their projectiles, piercing each other’s bodies.
“Ugh!”
“Argh! My knee!”
There were no agonizing screams of “Aaaagh!” or “Uwaaagh!”, only short groans. Our javelin throwers, unable to overcome the terrain disadvantage with courage alone, were routed after losing the javelin duel with the enemy, who were now close enough to see each other’s faces.
But the role of light infantry was to draw the enemy’s attention.
The imperial Skoutatoi, who had been silently approaching for the duration of three volleys of javelins and arrows, began to close in on the enemy, who had formed a solid wall of spears beyond the gentle slope.
The eagle-bearer (Aquilifer) raised the Roman eagle (Aquila) high in the air, and the might of Rome, passed down for a thousand years, advanced towards fellow Romans.
“Nobiscum Deus! Nobiscum Deus!”
“God is with us! Hurry! God is with us!”
“Uoooooooooooh-!”
Roman soldiers, calling upon God, shouting their battle cry, and making beastly roars while banging their shields together.
Soon, both attacker and defender, roared from behind their shields, shaking the very ground.
“Attack-!”
“Push!”
“Opsikion-! Not a step back!”
“Thrakēsiōn! Hold your ground!”
Short, sharp words flew through the air, piercing my ears.
As the troops raised for the defense and glory of the empire unleashed their long-honed skills against each other, the rebel infantry, with their clear terrain advantage, began to push back the charging imperial troops.
“First rank! Fall back! Second rank! Cut them down!”
“Don’t chase! Shields! Shields!”
It was my first time witnessing a Roman battle. The first rank of infantry, wielding large shields and long spears, formed a hedgehog-like barrier, trying to push each other back. But as the imperial forces were gradually pushed back, their commanders quickly withdrew the first rank and deployed the swordsmen waiting behind them.
The imperial infantry, wielding one-handed longswords called Spatha (Spatha), charged in unison, slashing and stabbing.
“Die!”
“In the name of God-!”
[Slash! Thud! Crack! Stab!]
“Aaaagh!”
“Gah!”
Unlike the spearmen at the front, who had been pushing against each other, the swordsmen, relying on their shields and armor, pressed forward. Countless rebels fell to their slashing and stabbing attacks.
Of course, imperial soldiers also fell, pierced by spears or struck by enemy swords and axes, but the battle had now turned into a viscous melee, like being trapped in a swamp.
It was common sense, even in the distant future, that striking down from above was stronger than striking up, and that when conditions were similar, the one occupying the high ground had the advantage.
The emperor, mounted on his steed Bucephalus, urged his troops forward, who were charging valiantly with the eagle held high, but only suffering casualties, unable to break through the enemy lines.
“Do not follow the traitor! Soldiers of Thrakēsiōn and Opsikion! I am the emperor of Rome! Hya!”
“Uh oh-!? Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
“Protect His Majesty!”
Michael, recklessly spurring his horse, charged into the battlefield where arrows, spears, and swords flew.
Of course, I, who had been monitoring Michael’s every move, reacted immediately.
“Storolf! Refil! Let’s move!”
“Yes, Konungr!”
[Booooooooong-!]
Amidst the chaotic battlefield, the wild and fierce roar of the horn echoed.
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[and anotha one]
