The Tiger's Fate (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 3) Read online

  Chronicles of an Imperial Legionary Officer

  Book Three:

  The Tiger’s Fate

  By

  MARC ALAN EDELHEIT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chronicles of an Imperial Legionary Officer BOOK THREE: THE TIGER’S FATE

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2016 by Marc Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  I wish to thank my agents, Andrea Hurst and Sean Fletcher, for their invaluable assistance. I would also like to thank my Beta Readers: Barrett McKinney, Jon Cockes, Norman Stiteler, Nicolas Weiss, Stephan Kobert, Matthew Ashley, Melinda Vallem, Brett Stewart, Brett Smith, Jon Quast, Greg Schell, Tim Andrew Adams II, Chris Cox, Gary Furrow, Mario Rivera, Michael Reeves, Michelle Klein, Paul Klebaur. I would also like to take a moment to thank my loving wife who sacrificed many an evening to allow me to work on my writing.

  Editing Assistance by: Hannah Streetman, Audrey Mackaman

  Cover Art by Piero Mng (Gianpiero Mangialardi)

  Cover Formatting by Telemachus Press

  Dedication

  To My Loving Wife, Elizabeth, who put up with many lonely evenings so that I could finish this novel.

  The Tiger’s Fate is book 3 in the series. Why not start at the beginning?

  Book One: Stiger’s Tiger

  Book Two: The Tiger

  Excerpt from Thelius’s Histories, The Mal’Zeelan Empire, Volume 3, Book 2.

  The Mal’Zeelan

  Imperial Legion

  Pre-Emperor Midisian Reformation

  The imperial legion was a formation that numbered, when at full strength, five thousand five hundred to six thousand men. The legion was composed of heavy infantry recruited exclusively from the citizens of the empire. Slaves and non-citizens were prohibited from serving. The legion was divided into ten cohorts of 480 men, with First Cohort, being an over-strength unit, numbering around a thousand. A legion usually included a mix of engineers, surgeons, and various support staff. Legions were always accompanied by allied auxiliary formations, ranging from cavalry to various forms of light infantry. The Imperial Legion was commanded by a legate (general).

  The basic unit of the legion was the century, numbering eighty men in strength. There were six centuries in a cohort. A centurion (basic officer) commanded the century. The centurion was supported by an optio (equivalent of a corporal) who handled minor administrative duties. Both had to be capable of reading and performing basic math.

  Note: Very rarely were legions ever maintained at full strength. This was due primarily to the following reasons: retirement, death, disability, budget shortages (graft), and the slow stream of replacements.

  The most famous legion was the Thirteenth, commanded by Legate . . .

  Post-Emperor Midisian Reformation

  Emperor Midiuses’s reforms were focused on streamlining the legions and cutting cost through the elimination of at least half of the officer corps per legion, amongst other changes.

  The basic unit of the legion became the company, numbering around two hundred men in strength. There were ten twenty-man files per company. A captain commanded the company. The captain was supported by a lieutenant, two sergeants, and a corporal per file.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  Prologue

  General Treim guided his horse off to the side of the road, pulling up to a stop in front of the tribune, who was clearly waiting for him. Colonel Aetius, who had been riding at the general’s side, turned his horse after Treim’s and stopped alongside his general. The steady tread of hundreds of hobnailed sandals on weathered paving stone was the backdrop behind the two senior officers. Yokes in hand, helmets hanging from ties about their necks, and covered shields strapped to their backs, the tired and weary men marched by.

  The tribune executed a perfect salute, which Treim responded to with a simple wave. He was tired from a long, forced march. As ordered, it had taken the old general seven hard days to get here, and he was eager to be out of the saddle. He had received his orders following the successful conclusion of a small campaign before the city Anesia. Had he not forced the enemy to battle and defeated them, he would have had to abandon the city and its population of two hundred thousand. Of late, the Cyphan Confederacy had taken too many of the empire’s cities. It had felt good to give them a real drubbing.

  “General,” the tribune greeted using the old tongue, which immediately put Treim on guard and drew all of his attention to the man. The old tongue was only spoken at court. “The emperor commands your presence.”

  “Tribune,” Treim said, using common. Without looking he could tell that Aetius had stiffened in his saddle. “What is your name?”

  “Tribune Handi,” he replied smoothly, flashing a smile that the overly-painted ladies of court likely found charming.

  Everything about the officer before him was too perfect for the general’s taste. Even the young man’s smile irritated him. Treim very much doubted that the officer before him had ever done any hard soldiering.

  “Tribune Handi,” Treim said, sounding the man’s name out. He was unfamiliar with the family. It bothered him little. He had been probing to see if the tribune was from a friendly house. Had the emperor sent an enemy to greet him, he would have been on his guard. Instead, he decided that Handi was a nobody, and no cause for concern. There were a thousand nobles just like him. Treim idly wondered how the man had obtained such a high rank serving the emperor directly. Either his family was extremely wealthy or he had a powerful mentor. Perhaps even the emperor had taken a liking to him. Treim decided he would require more information on this man. Later this evening, when time permitted, he would ask his spymaster to make some inquiries.

  “Tribune Handi,” Treim started again sourly, “I am weary from a long march. Surely the emperor will excuse me long enough to make myself somewhat presentable. I would not wish to offend his majesty’s sensibilities.”<
br />
  “I am afraid my orders were to bring you straightaway, sir.”

  “Colonel.” Treim turned to Aetius with more than a little irritation. “Locate the space allotted for our legions. See that our men set up the marching camp.”

  “Yes, sir.” Aetius offered a salute, just as Lieutenant Marius, one of the general’s many aides, rode up. He was returning from delivering a dispatch and handed over the reply to the general after a hasty salute.

  Treim pocketed the dispatch. He would read it over later when there was some privacy.

  “Marius,” Aetius said, “the general will be visiting the emperor. See to the general’s needs.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant’s head had snapped up at the mention of the emperor, and he straightened in the saddle, apparently becoming aware of the tribune for the first time. He was dusty and grimy like the rest of the army, but the youthful officer’s eyes were now lit up with the prospect of potentially seeing the emperor.

  “Lead on, tribune,” Treim said, stifling a yawn.

  The tribune turned his horse and led both the general and aide off the side of the road. They wound their way through the maze of camp follower tents that hugged the massive encampment and concentration of the emperor’s best legions.

  As expected, the camp smelled awful, but Treim was pleased to see that basic sanitation was being practiced. With so many people in such a confined area, the smell was something to which one eventually became accustomed. Men, women, and children moved aside and watched the officers pass. The streets were crowded. A large number of merchants had set up shop with the hopes of preying upon the men of the legions and turning a profit. As long as they did not gouge too terribly and paid off the camp prefects, those who would share with the generals would be permitted to stay.

  Off-duty legionaries weaved their way through the streets, stepping aside as the party rode by and offering salutes. Treim knew there were six legions and a number of allied auxiliary formations present. That kind of military concentration attracted a lot of camp followers. Treim would be adding an additional four legions to that number and sixteen auxiliary cohorts. The flower of the empire’s military was being gathered here with the purpose of striking back against the Cyphan. It had taken some time, but the military machine of the empire was finally grinding forward. Other legions, which had been stationed along the frontier, were also being brought in. Recalling the legions would cause some problems with the fringes of the empire, but it could not be helped. The empire would deal with any troublesome neighbors once the Cyphan had been dealt with.

  The camp eventually gave way to the fortified encampment of the legions, one positioned after another. From what he could see, each legion had its own fortified marching camp. The one he was being led to was that of the emperor, who had mustered the Praetorian Guard. The praetorians were the emperor’s personal guard, an over-strength legion, numbering close to ten thousand. The men who served with the Praetorian Guard had previously served with distinction in the regular legions before being recommended. Theoretically speaking, they were a crack force, one capable of giving a good accounting of themselves in the field. However, most had not seen any action, other than the occasional assassination of one of the emperor’s foes, in many years. With their flashy armor and purple cloaks, they certainly looked impressive. Treim had a feeling the praetorians had long ago gone soft. Sadly, in the general’s estimation, the praetorians were a political force to be reckoned with. Whoever paid the most owned them.

  A smart emperor always paid them well, for if someone gave them a better offer, the empire could find itself abruptly with new leadership. Such things had been known to happen. It was one of the reasons why Treim had no desire or aspiration to be emperor. He was content to simply serve with distinction and honor. If he’d had his way, he would have already retired. Instead, the Cyphan Confederacy had had other ideas.

  The praetorians standing post on the camp gate saluted smartly. The general was waved through by the gate officer without even having to sign in. Unlike the men in the streets before the gates, these men would know who he was, or perhaps they simply knew his escort, the tribune.

  The tribune led General Treim through the neatly ordered streets of the praetorian camp toward imperial headquarters. The High Command would be here also. Treim made a mental note to remember to speak to them. He badly needed replacements. All four of his legions were understrength, not to mention his allied auxiliary cohorts. The last time they had seen any replacements had been before the winter campaign against the Rivan.

  Treim swept his eyes across the training grounds and was pleased to see the praetorians drilling. There were at least three companies hard at it, with sergeants shouting orders and hurling profanities at their men. Perhaps, thought Treim, they might just be ready for a fight. Then again, he understood, only time would tell.

  “This is where I will leave you, sir.” The tribune stopped in front of an elaborate tent and dismounted. Several praetorians were stationed around it. Two slave boys ran forward to take the horses of the general and his aide as they dismounted. Treim paid them no mind as he stretched out his back. It had been a long, dusty ride, and he wished he’d had time to clean up before meeting with the emperor. There was no point worrying about spilt wine. The emperor knew his value as a fighting general and would just have to accept that his loyal servant was a little saddle dirty.

  The tribune spoke to the praetorians. One of the praetorians, a lieutenant, stepped into the tent. A moment later, the emperor’s personal steward, Thelonius, emerged. He clicked his tongue at the general’s appearance. Treim shrugged in reply. Thelonius was an old man, gray-haired and stooped by age. Despite the steward’s decrepit appearance, his mind was as sharp as any sword. He had served the imperial household faithfully for years. Treim knew the man well and respected him.

  “No time for a bath?” the steward asked with pursed lips.

  “I was commanded to attend,” Treim informed him and nodded toward the tribune. “You could even say I was plucked right off the road.”

  “Tribune Handi,” the steward said, “thank you for discharging your duty so faithfully.”

  The smartly dressed tribune offered the general a salute. He stepped off and away from the emperor’s tent, leading his horse. Treim watched the man go and was tempted to frown, but kept his face impassive. He did not need to make any fresh enemies before he knew which way the wind was blowing.

  “A social climber,” the steward whispered. “A current favorite of his majesty, but no one of consequence.”

  “How is he today?” Treim asked in a whisper, referring to the emperor.

  “He is in an excellent mood,” the steward informed him. “Especially now that his most successful general has arrived.”

  “Good,” Treim said, with some relief. The emperor’s mood had a tendency to shift more easily than Treim’s adopted teenage daughter. “Can we get this over with? I need a bath and some sleep.”

  The steward led him into the tent, but not before telling Lieutenant Marius to wait outside. The lieutenant looked crestfallen. Treim knew he would get over it. The general turned and entered the tent. He discovered the tent was full of senior officers, all waiting in attendance upon the emperor, who sat upon a raised golden throne along the back wall. The emperor was saying something to one of the officers when the steward announced him.

  All eyes turned upon Treim. Some were friendly and others most definitely not so.

  “Ah,” the emperor said with a smile. He gestured impatiently for the man he had been speaking with to step away. “Our most successful general has finally arrived to the party we are preparing for the Cyphan dogs.”

  General Treim made his way up to the emperor, who was garbed in flowing, royal purple robes. A crown of delicate golden leaves rested upon the emperor’s prematurely balding head. Even though the emperor was only in his thirties, he l
ooked much older. The office weighed heavily upon him. Treim went to a knee and bowed his head. The emperor held out a hand to him. Treim dutifully kissed the ring of office.

  “Rise, my faithful general,” the emperor said. Treim stood and took a couple of respectful steps backward. There were two praetorians standing to either side of the emperor. Their eyes were upon him, ever on the lookout for trouble, for in the empire no one was above suspicion. “We were gratified to receive word of your victory before the gates of Anesia.”

  “I am pleased to serve,” Treim said neutrally. Standing off to the emperor’s right was Harananos, his secretary. Garbed in the plain robes of a freedman, he looked harmless. However, he was anything but and had a fearsome reputation for disappearing some of the emperor’s more dangerous foes. Harananos nodded a greeting to Treim, but said nothing.

  “I look forward to the day we crush the Cyphan,” the emperor said, cracking a smile. He paused. The crowd of officers seemed to hold their breath as the emperor gazed around the tent. Treim knew something important was coming and so did those gathered.

  “I am pleased to announce,” the emperor continued, “General Treim will lead that effort. General Treim shall command the combined might of the empire when we next go into battle.”

  “Me?” Treim asked with more than a little surprise, though with his recent successes he knew he shouldn’t be. Treim had assumed the position would have been filled by someone more senior to him. He wondered if the emperor was jesting, for the man was known for flights of fancy and moments of terrible jest. Was this one of the latter? The general sensed it was not and his mood darkened. The emperor should have had the common sense to consult his opinion in private and ask rather than just announce it. What if he had refused? Could he refuse?