Tales of Esgarond

Imperator Marcus Longinus gazed out from the front of his army watching as the horizons darkened with storm-clouds. It seemed fitting for the foe that faced them, for truly had their shadow washed over all resistance like a force of nature itself. The foe had arrayed its forces in the distance, the host when all combined seemed so numerous it looked to be reaching into the horizon and beyond.

The ground before him had been lush with fields of wheat to be gathered in the incoming harvest, but conflict having scarred the land beyond such use There was little life here that wasn't wild, choking weeds crawling into those fields strangling the life from them. His legions were encamped on a small rise with their camp set up behind them, facing down on the implacable horde of darkness below them. The Legion's resistance in the face of such odds seemed to be an insult to the power set against them, a final joke to scorn the great civilization that they defended before its fall.

Marcus sighed and dropped his head in exhaustion. Such dark thoughts did him no good, but they came ever more frequently as the years passed, few though they yet seemed to be. He was only in his 30s, but the constant war ever since his first foolish notions of adventure and glory on the field of battle, the politics, betrayals, daggers in the night and losses of friends and family were beginning to take its toll. Now this latest invasion had sapped what vitality was left in his body.

Perhaps today would see its end? Finally.

"Imperator"

Marcus lifted his head to look upon the newest tribune laticlavius of Legio IV Imperator. Proculus Magnus was a good officer, one of the best. None but the best would be in his position within the legion that had carried Marcus to greatness. But none could replace the losses of Lucius, Theodosius or Aemilius. Those had been more than his officers, they had been friends. Brothers.

"Yes Tribune?"

Proculus looked nervous as he spoke, "Sir, the men seem tense. Perhaps you could give them a few words? They have been known to carry men to victory in the past. Perhaps once more?"

Marcus turned to look at the men at his back. They stood in perfect silence, staring at the growing tide of darkness that filled the horizon before them. Brave, but terrified.

As well they should be. Marcus thought. He didn't feel any words come to him. Not as they used to. Before it seemed that he would simply say what was in his heart and the speeches would flow. But now he was empty and the words would not come. Nevertheless he kept this to himself. The men needed him to give his best, and they deserved no less from him. After a moment deliberating he nodded, "Very well,".

Wheeling his horse around, he addressed the legions arrayed before him, shouting his words as best he could to catch their ears. The gestators would take down his words in any case and distribute the speech, but it seemed wrong to give these men anything but his best.

"Harken to me brave soldier, pray hear my words for I would speak. Fear not. I will not waste my time and yours seeking to assuage your doubts and fears with empty words and hollow promises. I wish only to address that which is true, but perhaps hidden from the eyes of many.

Though our nation has stood to face and defeat many an adversary, the one that stands before you now is one that would cause your ancestors to feel shame at their own accomplishments. On this field, and on this day the fate of our nation stands. The fate of our people. Many of you here no doubt would wish that a mere tenth of the strength of other nations stood beside us this day. Yet, even as I stand with you in the shadow of this darkness, I tell you that I would not wish it so. I would not stand to have with us one more warrior of those who does not stand with us in this moment."

Marcus gave the men before him a hard stare. The legion gazed back, a thirst for hope in their eyes drawn up from their souls by his words.

"No. I for one would not die in the company of any who do not stand here this day, nor would I share the fruits of our victory with them. Look to you left. Look to your right. There beside you stands the only brother, the only strength you need to carry this day. Look to them. For nowhere else in all Esgarond will you find a more trustworthy shield-brother than the one that's stands beside you this day. Trust in him and I will make this promise to you. The enemy stops here! Here they die! Here they face you, my legions, my brothers in arms, my brothers in tribulation! Here we vanquish the foe!"

Marcus opened his arms out, as if to embrace the legion standing before him, his own words beginning to light a spark within him he'd thought long extinguished. These were not his words, these were the words of a soldier, a leader, of the Imperator of Atlas himself.

"Many have judged this day as the last stand of our people. The last faltering resistance before the fall. But as I now stand here and look upon this band of heroes, this valiant host of defiant warriors, my heart cries out to God in joy. For in you, I see not the dying embers of a fallen people, nor the valiant last stand of a faltering nation. I see within you the will, and the strength of our ancestor's and the hope of our great people.

No my brothers, count this not as the last day of Atlas, as others have, but as the day when our people rose from the ashes of our time to cast back the darkness before it. This is not the end of an Empire, but the beginning of an Empire that will shake the foundations of our world, from this day into the halls of Eternity! This promise I make to you and to this promise will I hold!"

In the empty sky, Marcus saw a single bird fly over the legion, its cry echoing over the battlefield. An Eagle.

"Look!" a voice called out from the ranks as someone caught sight of the Eagle, "A messenger of the Lord watches over us!"

"Raise the standard!" Marcus cried pointing towards the Eagle as it flew overhead "Let the Lord's messenger see your resolve!" the Aquilifier raised the Legion's Eagle standard and waved it overhead. The Eagle's cry echoed through the battlefield once again and in that moment a single shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds and shone upon the standard, its golden surface glittering in the reflected glory of the sun, dazzling in its brightness.

The legion cheered, its brave silence from before drowned out now in cries filled with hope and renewed defiance. No man now feared the growing tide of darkness that swept in from the horizon before them. The Lord was watching them, their Imperator was leading them and they were the legions of Atlas!