The Triumph of Venus (Imperium #6) - Chapter 1

Daramouda

Inside their temporary headquarters, in the same building where their adversary had commanded from a few weeks previous, Ky stood with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the gathered legates. The large stone building still had damage from the battle for this city through which he could see the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean. The openings let in the chill of a southern Gaul winter, but it was still much better than their other choices.

The battle for Daramouda had been vicious, and they’d been forced to pound the city hard to force their enemy from behind its walls, and most buildings were damaged in one way or another. Of the choices large enough to house his headquarters, this was still the best one, even with the damage.

“First, I want to start this meeting by again commending each of you on the fine work this past year,” he said, now that all the legates had gathered. “We made amazing headway, and Carthage is within our grasp. We have a good chance of ending the war with this year’s campaign, but they aren’t out of the fight yet,”

“First, the north,” he said, his finger stabbing down on the large map laid out in front of them. “Ursinus will continue holding down the north, working with our allies there to both ensure we maintain supply lines through Gaul and protect us from any remnant Carthaginian forces that may still be in the eastern end of Gaul. Meanwhile, our allies in Gaul will protect our rear, toward Hispania, which we have largely skipped so far, from any remaining Carthaginians in that direction.”

Tracing a finger from Germania down to Italy, “The rest of our forces will march on Italia, clearing the peninsula as we move south. The goal isn’t Italia exactly, since I don’t expect a large force to oppose us. The army we faced was just about every man they had under arms on this side of the Middle Sea. They still have territory to draw from, but unless they want to empty out more rebellious areas, like Persia, it’s going to take them time to train new men to send to us. But ... Italia is our pathway to Africa. We can maintain solid supply lines all the way down it and across to Sicily. That leaves us a very small span of sea for us to cross and attack Carthage directly. I have full faith in Admiral Valdar to clear the Carthaginians out of the Middle Sea entirely, but keeping our ocean-borne supply line short will mean we can take this fight head-on.”

He looked up from the map to make sure the men were following him, and then said, “Once we cut the head off the snake, the rest of their forces in places like Greece and Persia should collapse. That might leave some instability for us to deal with, and remnants to clean up, as we figure out what the map looks like with Carthage finally gone, but we will deal with that when we get there.”

“The key is, we can’t let ourselves get bogged down. The Carthaginians have already shown a surprising ability to duplicate some of our new weapons, although now that we’ve gotten a closer examination of their gunpowder close up, it’s clear how low quality it is. Still, I hadn’t expected them to be able to copy us this quickly, and I don’t want to give them a chance to figure out how muskets or rifles work. Right now, our technological advantage is what is letting us take on these much greater odds, and I’m not willing to give that up. They may be severely wounded, but they still have the balance in manpower. Questions?”

“I would caution against assuming our crossing of Italia will be easy, Consul,” Bomilcar said. “The people there will have been under Carthaginian rule far longer than other regions we have occupied, in some cases for centuries. There will be less existing resentment to take advantage of, and many who would either be transplants from Carthage or those who’ve found ways to profit from their overlords. The closer we get to their homeland, the more resistance we should start expecting.”

Ky dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand, “I agree it’s something we should pay attention to, but we’ve seen the brutal way the Carthaginians treat the people under their control. Their greed and cruelty will make it very hard for most citizens to remain loyal, especially once they’re given other options. In fact, the length of Carthage’s occupation will work in our favor. These people will have suffered under their oppressive rule for generations.”

Bomilcar still looked doubtful, “Perhaps, but...”

“But you’re right. We should prepare for opposition all the same. The key is, even if we encounter it, it should be unorganized, and our goal will remain the same. To quickly make our way to Sicily, and across to Carthage. Once defeated, there will be no one left for those people to be loyal to.”

Ky could read Bomilcar’s face well and knew the general did not believe his logic. He’d shown himself to be overly cautious, but Ky also respected his experience and meant what he said. They would stay vigilant as they crossed Italy. He just didn’t want caution to slow them down. The introduction of Carthaginian gunpowder had taken him by surprise and shaken his belief that they’d remain so far beyond Carthage that they’d be able to counter the empire’s larger manpower pool forever. The fact that they managed the chemistry needed to reverse-engineer gunpowder meant he had to stop taking the threat of their catching up technologically, so lightly.

“There are other issues as well,” Bomilcar said, not ready to give up that easily. “A large part of our force is now made up of men from Germania and Gaul. They’ve proven capable soldiers, but we’ve also taken the bulk of the available manpower those regions had to spare, especially with Carthaginian deserters turned brigands and Carthaginian field forces still scattered around Germania. Our own manpower resources are also pushed to their limit.”

“I’m aware of our current manpower problems,” Ky said, trying not to be annoyed with Bomilcar’s thoroughness. “What are you getting at?”

“Stretched as thin as they are, I’m not sure how much help our allies in Gaul will be if even a portion of the tribes in that region stay loyal to Carthage and attempt to attack us as we march. I’m sure the port Valdar set up at the mouth of the Middle Sea is set up to prevent further Carthaginian landings, but there is a lot of coastlines, and he is going to have to take a large number of his ships into the Middle Sea itself if we’re going to completely clear it of Carthaginian shipping, ferry our men from Sicily to Africa, and keep us supplied. It is not out of the question the Carthaginians will try and come around us, landing men there. They’ve tried it before.”

Ky started to respond, but Bomilcar wasn’t done.

“Furthermore,” he said, continuing before Ky could counter his point. “Sending our allies from Gaul to deal with Hispania will have its own difficulties. While Britannia is generally seen as a neutral party, or at least preferable to the Carthaginians, Gaul, however, is seen as an enemy. The people in those two regions have been at odds often, with raids back and forth across the mountains that separate them over the years, each seeing the other as an opponent in either the Middle Sea or Oceanus. The tribes would see any forces from Gaul entering their land as invaders, regardless of what’s happening in their own lands. Using the Gauls for this will create a problem in our rear... not solve it.”

“A valid issue. And one we don’t have the manpower to meet either,” Ky agreed, cupping his chin in his hand, thinking. “I will send word to the empress. I know our people are stretched thin, but if we can send a force, not even a large one, to Hispania, they can begin negotiating with the tribes there. If we can get some of them on our side, we’ll have enough support to counter anything the Carthaginians might do. We already have a few centuries and the Port of Kalb to begin with. It’s not a lot, but we’re not talking about battle here, only negotiation and diplomacy. If that fails, then we’ll have to reevaluate. Will that work?”

“We’re at your service, Consul,” Bomilcar said with a sarcastic bow of his head.

How a bow could be sarcastic, Ky didn’t really know, but he knew the general was tweaking his nose.

“And I appreciate that service,” Ky said, giving the general a slight nod in return. “In the meantime, we should begin training any new recruits or volunteers from Germania and Gaul that joined us during the last days of the campaign. We didn’t have time for more than the most rudimentary training then, but now that winter has set in, we need to make up for that deficiency. We need to ensure everyone is outfitted and begin drilling them as soon as possible.”

“We have a few months to catch our breaths, but as the ground thaws I want our men ready to march,” Ky said, looking at each of his legates in turn. “This is the year, gentlemen. We will take Carthage and end this war by the fall. Understood?”

To lesser or greater degrees, the assembled men all vocalized their agreement. They were good leaders, and he had good men. Ky was confident that they were close to ending this war this year and finally having peace.

That evening, once the legates had been seen off and he finished the more routine responsibilities of leading such a large group of men, he shut himself off in his temporary quarters in the, now deceased, Carthaginian commander’s quarters. While he could have reached out to her at any time to ask about the options for dealing with Hispania, since she could not subvocalize like he could, and because an Empress holding conversations to thin air might be a bad idea, he held off until Sophus notified him she was alone in her chambers.

“Are you alone?” he asked, after activating the link.

“Since Sophus already told you I was, that’s a silly question to ask,” she said, with a little more heat than he’d expected.

“It just seemed like a way to start the conversation. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she sighed, sounding like she’d just flopped down on her bed. “It was just ... a long day.”

“The senators?”

“They’re absolutely impossible. We’ve been debating the tariffs on foreign shipping we put in last year, to get more of the Scandi captains to become citizens and move here, instead of just traveling back and forth. A group of senators, mostly Caledonian, have decided this is bad policy and want it lifted.”

“You don’t think they’re doing this of their own accord, do you?”

“No. Well, Roti may be for real. He’s made his name in being a middleman between the captains and villages further inland, but the rest? No. This smells like Scandi captains paying senators to push their own agendas.”

“You’re going to put a stop to that, I hope?”

“I’m working on it. So, what’s going on?”

“I met with my legates today to begin planning our advance into Italy and eventually Africa. Overall, things are progressing well. The legions are in good spirits, and I think everyone can feel the war starting to wind down.”

“But ...?” she prompted when he paused.

“But ... Bomilcar made an excellent point about Hispania and our supply lines. He fears that relying solely on our Gallic allies to safeguard our shipments of arms, food, and other materiel could be a problem. Our supply lines are going to run right to the edge of Hispania, and the tribes of Gaul have never gotten along well with the tribes there. Both sides have raided the other for ... well, forever. He pointed out, rightfully, that if something happens and, in order to keep their word to us and protect our supply lines, they were forced to cross into Hispania to deal with a threat, the Hispanian tribes there would see it as an invasion. Since we’ve already sided with the tribes in Gaul, they could read it as us siding against them, and it would push the tribes in Hispania into the arms of the Carthaginians, which we very much don’t want now that we’re so close.”

“But leaving the supply line unguarded isn’t an option, I assume,” Lucilla said.

“No. We got rid of most of the Carthaginians, but there are a lot of deserters, or men who just managed to get away, who have turned brigand to feed themselves. And now that the tribes in Hispania no longer have the Carthaginians controlling them, they are bound to want to start feeling out their newfound freedom. And our supply lines will look very tempting. It’s really a no-win scenario either direction.”

“And you were hoping I had a solution,” Lucilla said.

“I was, although that was before I heard about the senators. It sounds like you have a lot on your hands already.”

“No, I can work with this. Cormac has been wandering the halls of the palace, bored, for months now. And Medb might have quieted down for the time being, but she seems the type that if she isn’t occupied, her mind turns to scheming almost in spite of itself. I haven’t really had anything for them to do, but this might be the answer. I’d have to send someone with them... maybe Ramirus, but it could work to our advantage. Sending a member of one of the royal families — instead of just a diplomat could make negotiations with the tribes there easier. A lot of negotiations is making sure everyone feels like they’re treated with the correct level of respect. They’ve spent some time under Carthaginian rule, and it’s likely they’ve picked up some of the same bad habits the Carthaginians, or our own people, for that matter, have. They’ll almost certainly see sending someone that high up as a sign.”

“Sending Medb might not be a good idea, especially with Cormac. If you think she’s scheming now, wait until she’s no longer being watched so closely. Even if you send Ramirus with her, he’ll have his hands full enough that he won’t be able to watch her as closely as he’d need to.”

“True. But separating her and Cormac weakens her somewhat. She’ll essentially be alone here since almost everyone else has seen through her ... charms. She’s got Cormac wrapped around her finger, but without him, she’ll be more cautious. Like I said, it’s a win-win solution.”

“So, how will you handle it?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think about it. I’m sure there’s a solution here, although if I had my choice, I’d keep Ramirus here, but I also need someone with experience going to Hispania with Cormac. Like I said, I need to think about it.”

“Okay, although I’m sorry to give you more things to worry about,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said, and then paused for several long seconds. “I miss you terribly.”

Her voice had softened to the one they used when they were alone, just the two of them, without the need to worry about politics and war.

“Me too. You know the last time we saw each other was at your coronation a year ago.”

“I know. Sometimes I think these devices of yours are more cruel than they are helpful. Hearing from you just makes me miss you more. It’s like ... you’re almost next to me, but I can’t see or touch you. Sometimes I just want to throw everything away and just run off, the two of us.”

“I know, but you wouldn’t do that. Your people need you too much, and you’re too much your father’s daughter. It won’t be much longer now. We’re on the borders of Italy, and Valdar has already started sweeping the Middle Sea clean of Carthaginians. Another year’s campaigning, and the war will be over and we can come home.”

“Good. Maybe then we can finally talk about children.”

Ky didn’t say anything. He hadn’t considered children. It just wasn’t something he’d had to think about, where he’d come from. Children were born through gene selection and careful planning, and taken away shortly after birth to be raised in clutches.

“Ky,” she said after a minute, breaking the silence.

“Sorry, I ... I just haven’t ever really thought about children. Things were different, before.”

“Does that mean you don’t want them?”

“No. The idea of children with you ... I think it sounds nice. I just ... I don’t want to say I need to think about it, because I know how that might sound. I just need to adjust to the idea.”

“I didn’t mean to spring it on you. Well, you have a whole year to ‘adjust to the idea.’ But, do think about it. I can promise you now I’m not going to forget. I ... have to go.”

The line went dead and for a second, Ky got worried until Sophus broke in.

“One of Lucilla’s guards knocked on her door. There is apparently an issue that must be handled, although from what is being discussed, it does not seem like a priority requiring disturbing a monarch in her chambers.”

“People can sometimes be a little too narrowly focused on their own problems, making them seem more important than they are to other people,” Ky explained.

“You are a perplexing people,” Sophus said. “Is this what Aelius means when he talks about making elephants fly?”

“The phrase he used was ‘to make an elephant out of a fly,’ and yes. Sometimes ...”

Ky knew this would end up in an hour-long discussion on human behavior. Ever since reaching sentience, the AI had become steadily more interested in human quirks and foibles. While Ky wasn’t the best judge of Roman behaviors, many of which he found strange, he was the most easily available human for Sophus to question in order to explain them.

***

Carthage

Normally, the emperor’s palace was a place everyone in the empire wanted to be. Stately, elegant, it was known for its sheer opulence, where the leaders of an empire that stretched most of the way from Asia to the Great Sea could have their every whim catered to.

Today, however, those who found themselves in it almost certainly wished they were anywhere else.

“Incompetent fools!” Emperor Imilcar roared, his face contorted in rage as he addressed the cowering assembly of nobles and generals before him. “Hispania and Gaul, lost! And not one of you seems to be able to stop them. Our armies crushed by an enemy a fraction of their size. Our fleets sunk by a handful of ships. Not one of you has shown the ability to win a single battle.”

“My lord,” Magonides said, almost hesitantly. “We have tried, but the enemy’s new weapons... we cannot match them. And they’ve rallied significant tribal support in both Gaul and Germania, making supplying our armies difficult. We ...”

“Excuses,” Imilcar roared. “I acquired the firepower for you, just like the Romans use. Is that not enough? And tribes? You talk to me of barbarians barely able to dress themselves, and suggest this is why our vast armies have been defeated. Do you expect me to believe this?”

“I ...”

“Maybe you do,” the emperor continued, running over whatever the man was going to say. “Maybe you have reason to find excuses for your failures. Have I not paid you enough that you see fit to whore yourselves to the Romans? Have you sold your services to them, and betrayed me?”

“No, your magnificence,” Magonides cried, falling to his knees, pressing his head to the floor. “I would never betray you.”

The emperor scoffed at the man, waving him away like a nuisance.

“What about the rest of you? How are you going to fix this? Which of you has any idea how you’re going to redeem yourselves and retake our lands?”

The generals and nobles all shifted uncomfortably, the silence stretching as each glanced at the other, afraid of saying anything.

Malkat, his voice quavering, said, “Uh, your Magnificence, I believe if we, uh, improve training for the infantry, they will be more effective against the Roman forces.”

“So it’s the men’s fault for these failures? It’s training then, and not their incompetent leaders, squandering their lives? That’s your suggestion?”

Malkat paled and stammered, “I, well, no, I merely suggested ...”

“Enough,” Imilcar snapped. “Your grasp of warfare seems tenuous at best. Malkat? Ashtoreth? Do either of you have anything to add, or are you just going to stand there like scolded children?”

Ashtoreth shifted uneasily. “Perhaps if we, ah, sent agents to their island, sabotaged the production of their new weapons?”

“Do you think we have not tried that?” the emperor said, leaning forward, staring through the general. “And does the number of weapons they have lessen how they use them? Maybe if we wait until they run out of weapons, then you’ll be able to think of a way to defeat them.”

“I, um, I will, I think... uh,” Ashtoreth mumbled, trying to think of anything to say.

“You’re idiots. Every last one of you, only able to think of ways to make the losses someone else’s fault or strategies that let you win without a fight... as long as we wait long enough. Are none of you still men?”

“Your Magnificence,” Abithal said. “I fear the situation grows dire. The Romans now control a large section of the Middle Sea with their fleet of fire-weapon-armed ships. We can barely supply the forces we have left in Italia and Graecia, let alone mount any meaningful resistance.”

Abithal looked left and right, perhaps looking for support, but the other generals abandoned him.

“I believe our only recourse is to withdraw our remaining armies from the continent, consolidating our strength here in Africa. We simply lack the manpower to face the Romans and their barbarian allies across such a broad front any longer. Not with their superior weapons making even ten to one odds unwinnable.”

Imilcar’s eyes flashed with anger. “Are you suggesting I should cede our hard-won lands and retreat like a whipped dog?”

Sweat beaded on Malkat’s brow. “No, great one. Certainly not. I just... perhaps we should confront the truth in front of us. Most of our best units have already been destroyed, leaving mostly garrison commands and newly formed units to replace them. At the same time, the tribes in the free ... conquered lands flock to the Romans, lured by promises of plunder and fed lies of your magnanimous rule.”

Again he looked left and right for support, and again he found none.

Nervously, he said, “We must shore up Africa’s defenses and bleed the Romans when they come. Make them pay dearly for each mile gained.”

The room fell dead silent when Malkat finished speaking. Every eye turned to the emperor, whose face darkened and jaw clenched as he stared fire through the slowly withering general.

“Retreat?” Imilcar said, his voice dripping with contempt. “You dare suggest that my Empire surrender lands won through centuries of bloodshed? That we scurry away like rats and allow the barbarian hordes to run rampant?”

“N-no, Your Magnificence, I did not mean ...”

“Silence!” Imilcar bellowed, rising from his throne. “Your cowardice sickens me. Carthage bows to no one!”

He descended the dais towards Malkat, robes swishing behind him. The general quaked, falling prostrate.

“P-please, I beg forgiveness, Your Radiance. I only wish to preserve your divine rule.”

“You are weak, and there is no room in my service for weak men,” Imilcar scowled, waving to the guards flanking the chamber. “Take this wretch outside and drive him onto a stake. Carthage has no need for sniveling dogs.”

The guards seized Malkat by the arms, dragging the now screaming man away. The general’s pleas for mercy could still be heard down the hallway as Imilcar turned to the remaining generals.

“Let this be a lesson. Carthage did not claw its way to glory through timidity and concessions. The riches of the world flow into this city, and I will not have them jeopardized by Roman upstarts.”

None of the gathered generals or nobles dared reply.

“You will defend our holdings in Italia and Graecia, and protect our homelands from the Roman pirates. I will not accept another inch of Carthaginian soil lost. The man that does will face the same end as his predecessor. Either die in the field, or here in answer to your failure.”