Heir of Aurelian

Marcellus had departed from the city of Rome several weeks ago, with only a single slave in tow. He would soon arrive at the province of Raetia, where he would live under constant threat from the barbarian hordes. He had been demoted from a leader of the Emperor’s palace troops to a frontier general.

While much of the Empire was suffering from countless threats, the Italian peninsula was still somewhat safe to travel. Though occasional brigands and raiders would appear. Thus, Marcellus had been dispatched with a small contingent of soldiers to protect him on his journey to the Frontier Town of Castra Regina.

Eventually, the young general could see the township on in the distance and noticed it was a far cry from where he was used to living. Unlike the city of Rome, which was protected by the mighty Aurelian Walls, the majority of the Frontier Town was completely unprotected. The only real area of defense was a small stronghold in the center of the village.

The rest of the buildings outside this military structure appeared to be nothing more than farmhouses, whose fields appeared to be largely unfertile. If Marcellus was considered a field commander of a massive army in the past, he was now more akin to a feudal lord, presiding over a small town on the borders of the realm. Not only was his job to secure the region from potential threats, but he also had to make sure everything ran as smoothly as possible.

If this area wasn’t such a turbulent region whose lands had been ravaged by past wars, and whose borders were surrounded by barbarians, then perhaps Marcellus might consider it a comfortable position. Goths, Vandals, and other barbarian tribes existed outside his borders, or at least in such proximity that they could become an immediate threat.

Marcellus strode into the township on horseback, where he noticed several members of his new Army being derelict in their duties. Unlike the men in his previous army, the majority of these part-time soldiers lacked any form of bodily protection, and only a handful of men had helmets. After all, they had to pay for such luxuries out of their own pocket. Thus, only the most veteran troops could afford a helmet, let alone a mail shirt.

When these men saw the proud Roman General on horseback, they immediately halted their activities, and saluted the man while gazing upon the mighty scale armor that adorned Marcellus’ chest with envy. Not only did he have a protective vest, but he also wore a gilded helmet, with a proud red plume which acted as a symbol of his authority._.

Marcellus instantly noticed the jealousy in the eyes of the soldiers, but he simply ignored it. After all, the men quickly shifted their gaze onto Sigefrida, who wrapped her arms behind him as she rode on the back of Marcellus’ horse. Sigefrida acted with indifference as she noticed the lustful gazes that glanced upon her.

Instead, she focused her gaze on the villa within the stronghold. It was a decrepit old building that clearly had not seen maintenance in some time. The Barbarian beauty sighed heavily as she gazed upon the quarters she and her master would stay in for the foreseeable future.

After riding through the gates of the small stronghold, Marcellus made his way to the villa. He hopped off the horse before helping Sigefrida down from her position. As soon as he was safe and secure within the stronghold, the Commander of his retinue dismounted from his steed and kneeled before Marcellus with a solemn expression on his face.

“General, it has been the highest honor serving you. I must say it is my greatest misfortune that we must part ways here. Unfortunately, we have all been reassigned to another position. We weren’t even supposed to protect you on your journey. I just want you to know that we have not forgotten the sacrifices you have made for us, and the soldiers of Rome stand behind you should you ever require our aid.”

Marcellus gazed at the man with a cold expression on his face. He said nothing, for he could say nothing. He knew exactly what the man was implying, but if he were to even nod his head in silence, it could be considered an act of treason. Instead, he responded with in an indifferent tone before dismissing the cavalry commander.

“You are dismissed. I will pray to my god that you are victorious in all your endeavors…”

The commander of the cavalry said nothing more, instead he mounted his horse and led his soldiers off and back towards the city of Rome where he would regroup with his new unit. After he and his soldiers had made some distance, the commander gazed back on the small frontier fort and uttered a few words beneath his breath.

“Such a waste…”

After saying this, he continued on his journey. As for Marcellus, he had marched into the derelict villa, and gazed upon its poor state of astonishment. If he had known it would be in such a neglected condition, he would have brought more slaves with him. After saying this, he realized what he needed to do. Reaching into his coin purse, the general handed a few large gold coins to his slave.

“Go to the town market and see if you can find a few slaves for sale. I don’t want you to have to clean this mess by yourself. If anyone tries to lay a hand on you, tell them you are the personal slave for the new Dux, and if they dare to harm you, I will have their head.”

Sigefrida silently nodded her head in response to her master’s orders and quickly departed from the decaying villa. She rushed out of the fortress and into the nearby town. The streets were nothing more than loose dirt, not even paved with stone.

As for the buildings, they were as worn as the manor, if not more so. It was abundantly clear that this town was in an impoverished state. She immediately wondered if Honorius had deliberately selected the worst frontier town for Marcellus to rule over.

The moment Sigefrida entered the town, she caught the eyes of many men. She was quite obviously a barbarian, and a slave at that. Yet she was among the most beautiful women these frontier folk had ever laid eyes on.

Normally Sigefrida did not care about such improper glances, however a particularly hideous bald and fat man approached her with a few goons following behind. These thugs had set their eyes on the woman since they saw her riding on the back of Marcellus’ horse.

“Hey pretty woman, you seem to be new in town. How about I show you around?”

Despite her internal disgust, Sigefrida wore a polite expression as she declined the man’s offer.

“There is no need. I am simply here to buy a couple of slaves, and then I will return to the castra. My dominus is waiting for me…”

The man did not seem pleased with this response and immediately grabbed hold of Sigefrida’s forearm as if he was going to force her to follow him.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist…”

Despite his fierce grip, Sigefrida managed to pull her arm away from the large man and instantly threatened him, as she had been instructed to do so.

“I am the personal slave of the new Dux. If you wish to remain a member of the living, I highly suggest you back off!”

A nearby guard raised his brow when he heard these words. He immediately walked towards the public display of hostility with the intent of interfering. However, before he could do so, one of the other soldiers by his side tried to stop him, shaking his head before reminding him of the position that the fat man held in the village.

“Betto may be a fat, disgusting pile of puss, but you know who he is! If you get on his bad side, your family will go hungry when winter comes…”

While the soldier warned his comrade of the consequences of messing with the fat man, a large slap resounded in the air. Sigefrida had become annoyed by Betto’s egregious behavior and swatted him, leaving a small red handprint on his face. With a dominating presence that should not belong to a slave, the Suebi beauty condemned the man in front of the whole town.

“Scoundrel! I will have your head for this!”

Evidently, the man had groped her chest, which caused the woman to respond with such fury. However, Betto’s face immediately darkened as he gazed upon the proud slave with a hint of hatred in his dark eyes. Just when he was about to retaliate, the soldier stepped forward and unleashed his blade with a murderous aura.

“Betto, stay you hand if you wish to keep it. This is the Dux’s slave, and no harm shall come to her without his permission. If you resist, I am afraid I will have to bring you before the man himself…”

The large man named Betto spat on the ground in disgust. A man in his position did not fear a mere Dux. In fact, without Betto, many of the citizens would starve to death every winter. He dared to see how this new General would punish him.

“Ordius? You dare stand in my way? You should think twice if you want to survive the winter.”

The soldier named Ordius did not sheath his blade, nor did he back away in fear. There was only a single reason that would compel an average part-time soldier to stick up for the slave of a disgraced general. That was because, unlike his brothers in arms, he recognized the Marcellus the moment he first arrived in the village.

If he did not oppose Betto now, then many heads would roll should the fat man have his way with the beautiful slave. Thus, a showdown had begun to take place in the middle of the small border town. One that could have serious consequences on the people who lived there.

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