Tanya's Third Life as a Barbarian Queen, Chapter XXXIV

I will have the chapter as links to download at the bottom of the post. As well as a link to the Google Document page.

Kontia.

Tanitious, Centurio Primus Pilus.

Zorzal raved at the departing Lepus and the Apostle of Emroy, the latter of which seemed to revel in his fury. I glanced at the First Prince of Sadera and truly wondered just what the man was thinking; he must have known the Apostle had grown weary of him. I held back a sigh, gladdened at least that Emroy had not sided against us, for there was no reason why his voice upon the earth would lie. 

We spent little time at the ruins of the cottage after the Tanaoi Queen and her companions left, and returned to a quickly-raised tent atop a hill overlooking the battlefield. It was a hill close to the walls and offered us some view of what was happening beyond the Tanaoi trench work. It was here that I laid out the paper, and it was indeed paper, containing the conditions of our surrender.

I looked to Zorzal, who had thrown himself into a chair in the tent and was filling a goblet with wine. The rest of the command carried a grim resolve with them. I settled down to read the conditions: there were eight pages of them written in an unusual style. Whoever served as scribe to this Queen was well-practiced, able to judge the size of each letter as well as the space between words in order to make effective use of the paper.

The conditions themselves were rather generous, with clear assurances for the men who surrendered to be given shelter from the elements, as well as fair rations while kept as prisoners of the Steppe Barbarians.

It became clear that a Saderan had a hand in drafting these conditions. That the Queen of the Tanaoi was receptive to such suggestions spoke well of her. Tyuule had mentioned that Queen Tanya of the Tanaoi had once been exiled from her people and wandered the world. Indeed, the Queen herself had confirmed this in her claims to have traveled to Sadera and Rondel at the very least. 

During that time she must have come to something of an understanding of Saderan civilisation. It would explain why her behaviour diverged from that of her peers. That her people had refused to join the others in battle was not craven as Tyuule and Zorzal believed, it was instead sanity itself. Just as it made sense for her to flee when three legions could have made way to her territory and brought her into bondage.

Her marching south was strange when she had the vast steppe to vanish into; a remarkably odd decision. But Zorzal had offered the Tanaoi the perfect conditions for that gambit to pay dividends. 

I grit my teeth as I considered the state of the Ninth Legion - the Legion that I had served with all of my strength since I was a boy of twelve. To think that she would deteriorate to this... but this was not the end. It would be a humiliation, perhaps, but we would survive the disgrace.

I set the surrender conditions aside neatly and looked about the room. While Zorzal was brooding in his chair, the other commanders were talking amongst themselves. All of them were highborn sons of Sadera, born to pride and wealth. Terrible, awful pride. Even now, their pride would not allow them to meekly submit to such conditions as these. Conditions that would allow the Ninth Legion to survive and to regain lost honour another day. 

No, regardless of our situation, they would not abide surrender without a fight. It was a terrible thing to condemn even a single brother to die for pride alone, but I had little choice. I would abide by Zorzal's assault; an assault that the Tanaoi would likely repulse. After that repulsion, I would then insist upon the conditions written here.

I would have to hope that this worldly barbarian would continue to listen to whatever the Saderan scribe had written down as the conditions after such a battle. Their pride must give way to reason at last. In truth I did not begrudge them their birthright. I did not know the weight that came with it. I did not, could not know, and thus I shall not stand in judgement.

I had been born from nothing, of nothing, and had nothing but the Ninth Legion to hold pride in. Was it so strange that I held the men of the legion as my brothers and the highborn nobles of Sadera did not? It was merely how the world was.

I stood up and addressed the room, drawing the attention of Zorzal and his companions as well as a handful of competent men of the Ninth Legion.

"Tribune," I began, addressing Zorzal as he raised his goblet at me. "I will advise you that these conditions are not particularly objectionable," I offered, only to watch as his face contorted into rage.

"You would have us submit to these barbarians, you coward!" He spat his rage while I carefully schooled my features to suppress the frustration welling in my core.

"No, Tribune, the assault should go on as planned. I am merely doing my duty to you in reading the terms and informing you of their contents." It pained me to agree to the assault, may the gods have mercy and bring the boys I was sacrificing to their bosom. "If it pleases you, I shall begin preparations at once by exchanging our hostages and informing the Tanaoi of our intentions to give battle." Hopefully, while I was addressing the Lepus representatives, I could impart on them some indication that we would be more receptive to the conditions of surrender after the battle. 

In the best case, we would breach their defences and bring the Tanaoi to heel, but it was my duty to prepare for the worst and seek to act in the interest of the Legion first and foremost. Of course, we did seem to outnumber the Tanaoi considerably. But if the war had taught me anything, it is that a single Lepus Warrior could be the equal of many men in battle.

"And let them prepare? No, look at the arrogance of that whore! Married, she says! To some small-dicked rabbit no doubt, practically a woman." He took a long draught of his wine before he continued. "Perhaps I should prove it to the arrogant bitch, in front of her entire tribe." The Prince was seething.

"They have our men, Tribune. It would be best for the morale of the Legion if they were returned to us before battle. It would also demonstrate our civility as Saderans to return the Barbarian hostages if we are to reject their terms." I tried to refocus the Prince away from his overactive imagination, but he was incensed beyond reason.

"They knew the risks, the men will understand," Zorzal said dismissively. I turned to the other men in the tent for support, but was quickly reminded that here, in Zorzal's retinue, I had few allies.

"It will cost us lit-" I attempted to push my luck, but was quickly rebuffed once more.

"I have made my decision!" Zorzal snapped. "Go and kill the Lepus hostages, then be ready for my order for the men to attack." The man did not wait for my response as he looked around. "Where is Tyuule?"

I blinked at the question and indeed found the subjugated Warrior Bunny nowhere to be found. The rest of the tent's occupants seemed to notice her conspicuous absence just as the young Prince had.

"Of all the times!" Zorzal shouted, throwing his goblet across the room and rounding upon one of his retinue. "Find her!" With that order given, he rounded upon me. "What are you still here for? I have given you your orders," he growled expectantly. 

I said nothing more, knowing it would be useless, and merely offered him a Saderan salute before quickly making my way out of the tent as Zorzal began to rage at the men that remained.

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It was with a heavy heart that I made way to where the Lepus hostages were being kept for the duration of the talks. I brought with me a century of Legionaries with a fair amount of experience; men who knew what grim task awaited them should the barbarians resist.

We found the ten of them lounging in a tent overlooked by a host of guards. They were in good spirits, talking and laughing with each other while keeping an even spacing between themselves. Though unarmed, naked even save for intricately-applied paint over their bodies, being in a circle facing inwards allowed the lot of them to watch any approach. At their sides were their wineskins, and each had an ornate copper comb.

I approached the Centurion overlooking the hostages and recognised the man as Antonious, a relatively young man for the position but rather competent and good natured. He was a good choice for this position even if he was to be overseeing something dishonourable.

But we had our orders.

"Tan!" He called out when he saw my approach. The Lepus likewise seeing me and the hundred men at my back became quiet, their ears twisting in an uncomfortably inhuman way. I would have to assume they could hear every word we said.

"Don't be overly familiar, Centurion!" I chastised the man, but my heart was hardly in it. Antonious noticed that quickly and adopted a more serious expression. "How are they?" I probed, giving my men a chance to spread out and cover any escape routes. The Lepus could be unreasonably fast when they wanted to be.

"In good spirits, surprisingly," Antonious replied, glancing at the hostages. "There have been no issues."

"Surprisingly?" I inquired.

"Well, I don't know, it's likely nothing Sir, it's just odd how... at ease they are. None of them have drunk from their wine, so I suppose that they are merely an easygoing lot." He shrugged as I felt my heart quicken. Something was not quite right.

"Behind me, then," I offered. It was not like I could tell the man what was to happen with the Lepus listening. I approached the hostages, and in turn the lot of them got to their feet with an uncanny grace, bodies shaped by a lifetime of violence and survival on the hard steppe on full display as powerful muscles shifted under painted skin and little fat.

Calm, relaxed, yet threatening. Each of them with wineskins in one hand and copper combs in the other.

"I am Tanitious Centurio Primus Pilus," I addressed them. "I am here, under protest, to carry out the will of my Prince and Tribune Zorzal El Caesar. Due to a failure for an accord to be reached, he has declared the parlay between our peoples to be over and battle shall be given. I have been ordered to execute you and I intend to carry out this order," I said with a resigned sigh. "But I swear an oath upon my soul that your deaths will be given swiftly and without undue suffering, as well as that your bodies will be given full funerary rites so your souls shall be given over to the Gods without delay." I looked what seemed to be their leader in the eye as she lent back on one of her legs and seemed to test her balance for a moment.

"I believe you," she said at last, "but unfortunately, I cannot offer you the same. I have no intention of making this quick or painless, for any of you." 

"You cannot hope to overco-" I began, only for her to hop forwards and throw her wineskin to me.

"Catch~!" With a grin did she send the leather wineskin slamming into my chest as I fumbled with the bag that felt like it was packed full of sand. A moment later I was thrown backwards as if she had somehow covered the dozens of feet between us in an instant and struck me in the chest.

I lay stunned on the ground, trying to take in air as the world seemed indistinct and distant, as if I was underwater. A faint hiss was all I could hear before the sound of confusion and shouting began to fill the air from that uncomfortable and unnatural silence.

I looked to the hostages and watched as they launched wineskins into the crowd before moving in concert with each other to throw themselves into battle, their ears high and their legs carrying them into panicking men with an eager bouncing gait. Horrendous banging, one after the other, sounded out, followed by screams and more chaos.

I had to do something! I rolled onto my side and pushed through the pain to get to my feet, only to find that when I tried to push up from the ground, I had nothing but mangled stumps where my hands had been. 

I had but a moment to panic before I suddenly rolled forwards into the grass, the world growing faint as I was plucked from the ground by a grinning barbarian with a pilfered blade wet with my blood.

Then, darkness.

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Sometimes honour demands that you don't tolerate the orders of fools. Doing so can cost good men everything.

Now, let the battle commence!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Aju18FnGFibMYXv3SCyCuTKW5DDp5s_TrPnjpwWxwic/edit?tab=t.0