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Kairos 108: The Hounds of War
🕑 Added 2022-02-22 09:59:17 +0000 UTCHi there,
So, based on the poll, starting with next week I will return to three chapters a week to better focus on the incoming webtoon release.
I will continue to publish Kairos as usual, while reducing Underland's chapters to 1 on Thursday until Kairos is completed; afterward I'll move to three chapters of Underland a week until completion.
With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter ;)
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Dispater’s army made it to the battlefield first, but Zama’s troops had arrived before the Lyceans could even raise camp.
Birds fleeing from the east forewarned Dispater’s troops of the enemy’s approach. Horns and trumpets echoed in alarm as soldiers grabbed their armor and weapons, for the scouts had noticed the enemy less than a few hours away. Dispater immediately summoned an emergency war council to determine how to respond and draw the complex battle lines.
Before she made her way to it, Cassandra took a moment to oversee the future battlefield. A dry wind blew on a flat plain of yellow grass; the river bordered it from the right and woody hills from the left, the two combined forming a narrow corridor roughly two kilometers wide. The midday sun was high in the skies, its light reflecting on the waters.
Cassandra had to admit that Dispater had chosen the battlefield with care. There wouldn’t be enough space for Zama to fully deploy his cavalry and the compact legions of Lyce wouldn’t offer any gap to exploit. Tiberius had also wisely deployed spellcasters at the front, their illusion spells masking the army’s formation with a cloud of dust. Automaton birds patrolled the horizon and already engaged in small skirmishes with Dispater’s pegasi riders.
This is it, Cassandra thought as she entered the command tent. There is no turning back now.
The terrible battle she had delayed for weeks would happen. Victory or death would be its only two outcomes.
When Cassandra entered Dispater’s tent, she found the officers already gathered around their commander and a map of the battlefield.
“They are already advancing straight at us at a steady pace,” quartermaster Severus warned. Having pushed for this battle, he looked as confident as the younger officers.
“What about aerial reconnaissance?” Dispater asked spymaster Vulpes.
“Our pegasi riders struggled to see clearly,” the officer replied. Unlike his confident fellows, his expression remained wary and uncertain. “Zama’s soldiers use smoke to obscure their movements and their metal birds harass the scouts whenever they get too close. But according to estimates, they number fifty-thousand soldiers maximum.”
And Dispater had managed to gather nearly ninety-thousand troops, almost twice the enemies’ number. With the terrain negating Zama’s cavalry advantage, the odds favored the Lycean army… on paper at least.
“According to the scouts, they put the Alexandrian cataphracts and elephants on their left wing close to the river, and the Valian horse archers and light cavalry along the hill,” Tiberius added as he pointed a finger on the map. “As for the infantry, they deployed the automatons on the sides and living soldiers at the center of the formation.”
“I think they intend to break through the riverside with a heavy cavalry charge,” Cassandra said, having documented herself on Valian strategies while Vali’s prince had hosted Kairos last year. “Then they will turn around and threaten the rear. They have more cavalry than we do, so they have the advantage on that front.”
Dispater nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Any sign of Zama?”
“Our flying scouts sighted him at the center of the infantry formation, protected by a heavy escort,” Vulpes replied. “But it could be a decoy.”
His warning fell on deaf ears as Dispater’s eyes lit up with an ugly glint. “Do you have suggestions?” he asked his officers.
“We should take the hill immediately,” Cassandra said immediately. “If we claim it first, our spellcasters and fire rod users will be able to bombard the Valian lines. This could cause their light cavalry to collapse and turn the tables on them.”
Tiberius nodded. “Elephants are dangerous for our heavy cavalry since not all of our horses are used to them and might panic. I suggest our riders fight in a defensive formation and pellet them with spears and arrows, to scare the elephants and prevent them from advancing.”
“It doesn’t matter if they have machines in the infantry,” Severus said. “The sheer weight of our numbers will push forward like a tide. Eventually, the center will break.”
After listening to his advisors, Dispater nodded to himself and immediately gave orders. “Ultor will be at the vanguard and push back the central Valian line; I will follow with the infantry and we shall carve out a way to Zama. The automatons won’t fold, but the living will rout before our charge. The sheer pressure of our number will cause the enemy line to buckle back and break.”
Leading from the front was a dangerous proposition in Cassandra’s opinion. It would bolster the troops’ morale, but also cause them to rout if Dispater was ever killed. A quick glance at Ultor reassured her though; so long as Dispater remained close to the human behemoth, he would survive.
“If the heavy cavalry doesn’t manage to break through and turn around,” Tiberius warned, clearly worried for his father’s safety.
“It won’t,” Dispater replied. “Severus will take command of the right wing with most of our heavy cavalry… and you, my son, you will take the left.”
Dispater then looked up at his daughter-in-law. “Cassandra, you will take the spellcasters, fire rod users, and workers up the hill, then cover my son’s side with suppressive fire and shoot down those mechanical birds.”
Cassandra’s fork felt warmer in her hand. Perhaps it relished the taste of blood in the air, whether it would be shed by foes or allies alike. Her weapon had been wielded by Jason of Iolcus in the name of revenge, and it never quite stopped thirsting for death. “As you wish, Imperator,” she said softly.
“Good luck then,” Dispater said, though he only spared a smile for his son and daughter-in-law. “We shall meet again after our great victory!”
Cassandra knew he said these words to give the men hope and confidence, but she couldn’t help but find them ominous.
Walking away from the tent with a heavy heart, Cassandra followed her husband outside as they moved to their horses. Tiberius’ face was full of concern, his gaze distant. Cassandra wasn’t sure what to say, and the words that came out of her mouth sounded so desperately out-of-touch.
“How do you feel?” she asked. Cassandra wanted him to open up, to clear his mind before the battle; for his life might very well depend on it.
“I try not to feel at all,” Tiberius replied, his helmet heavy under his arm. He was so dashing in his steel armor lined with silver and red, that Cassandra could have mistaken him for a prince. “To treat this with stoicism.”
“To be free of anger and envy,” Cassandra said with a sigh, remembering the philosophy’s tenets. “To let go of what exists outside yourself, because you have no power over it. It’s easier to say than to do.”
Cassandra knew that all too well. She had to let go of many people and hopes, to always move forward. Disappointed dreams were like ghosts, haunting the living until they, themselves, died. Even though she strived to maintain a positive disposition, she often dealt with moments of gloominess.
Her husband noticed her sorrow, and surprised her by putting his hands on her cheek. “Cassandra, it’s alright,” he said with a smile. “We fought a dragon, remember? Zama can’t have something worse than that in store.”
Cassandra chuckled, her husband’s fingers warm against her skin. “I suppose that after confronting undead [Heroes] and mythical monsters, it must seem silly to worry about an army of men.”
“It’s because you don’t worry about yourself, isn’t it?”
“No?” She locked eyes with him. “I worry for you.”
“Same as I do for you.” Tiberius sighed. “Rationally, it could go either way and odds favor us. That’s what I try to focus on. You will be in one of the safest areas.”
“And you are in one of the most lethal,” Cassandra replied as one of her soldiers brought her her shield. “But so long as I stand on that hill, no one will threaten you. My flames will cast your foes down.”
This made her husband smile. “And so long as I ride, none of these fools will climb the hill. We’ll cover each other.”
“That’s what a couple does all the time, no?” As she said these words, Cassandra approached her lips from her husband’s own. She didn’t care if soldiers watched on, or if it was improper. She kissed Tiberius while he put a hand on her waist and pulled her towards him, the couple embracing ferociously.
Cassandra didn’t want to let him go. Not so soon. Not ever.
But all things had to come to an end, and he broke the kiss first. “Do not die,” was all Cassandra could ask.
“I won’t,” Tiberius replied with a sheepish smile; and his wife could tell he was honest. “After this war, I would like to take you with me on a tour of the Sunsea. I can show you wonderful places—”
“No,” Cassandra interrupted him. “Do not finish your sentence.”
This made Tiberius frown. “Why so?”
“Because I have had too many people dying on me while making promises about the future. All that remained afterward were regrets and unfulfilled dreams.”
“Fine. Let’s not make a plan now until we can credibly make them real.” Tiberius put on his helmet, as did Cassandra. “We will do as we wish after we win.”
Cassandra could only nod as she climbed on her horse, joining up with Chloris and her own contingent. Her armor felt heavy, but not as much as the burden of command. As she rode forward with her amazon troops, a hundred Lycean spellcasters, workers, and fire rod operators followed her as they climbed the woody hills.
As they worked their way up, Cassandra regularly took a look at the plain. The army of Dispater had unfolded its lines, gleaming beneath the sun. Standard-bearers raised the banners of Lyce, Dispater leading the center in his shining silver armor. An escort of elite warriors surrounded him from all sides, while Ultor stood shirtless before his patron. The [Demigod] wielded an enormous blade meant for two hands with his right and a shield with the other, while ranks after ranks of infantrymen formed a tightly-packed mass of steel without any weak point. Their square shields bore the wolf symbol of their homeland, and their raised spears gave the formation the appearance of a sea of fangs. There were so many men on the battlefield that the earth trembled with each step, and even the war drums could hardly be heard.
The army’s right wing near the river was all heavy cavalry and just as tightly packed. Mounted spellcasters followed them, ready to beguile enemy troops with illusions and spells. With the river nearby, they could easily draw upon the water to summon elementals or create walls of liquid. No charge would push them back.
Her husband’s troops below the hill lacked the tight density of the right wing, but their horses were strong and quick. Hundreds of mounted spearsmen rode at his side, each of them equipped with javelins and short swords; others carried bows matching those of the Valians in reach.
The enemy army soon came into sight.
Dust raised by horses and conjured mist partly obscured Zama’s army, but Cassandra saw enough. Mighty elephants thundered near the river, carrying towers of wood manned by archers on their backs. Legions of automaton infantry walked in utter silence, all of them identical. They reminded Cassandra of Thales, but unlike the shy crafter, these machines advanced without any hint of emotion. They were soulless tools, mechanical slaves in the service of a ruthless tyrant.
As the scouts reported, most of the human infantry walked in the middle of the force while surrounded by automatons. Olive-skinned Valians walked side by side with whiter Thessalan recruits, all of them carrying the best weapons money could buy. The infantry line marched in a crescent formation, the center advancing closer to the Lyceans than the edges; Cassandra suspected that Zama intended for this line to absorb the brunt of the central charge, lessening the pressure.
To Cassandra’s surprise, the cavalry wing facing her husband’s force was nothing impressive, only made of mounted archers and Valian light cavalry riders clothed in heavy robes. Their commander rode a mighty black warhorse at the front and carried a single sword as long as a spear. Although he looked a little different than the other Valians, his sight bothered Cassandra for a reason she couldn’t explain.
Queen Persephone, please protect my husband from harm, Cassandra prayed to her goddess. Please, do not leave me a widow so soon.
The flying skirmishers of both armies had already engaged in battle above the skies, pegasi riders dancing with gold-colored automaton birds; the former struck with bows and spells, the latter with fireballs. Cassandra guessed that Talos had equipped his machines with fire rods.
“Faster!” Cassandra ordered her troops as the various battle lines marched towards one another. “Hurry up!”
“Yes, Milady!” Chloris said behind her, raising a bow in case any assassin would sneak up on them. The troop climbed down the hill, their steps and horses sending stones falling down as they approached the hill’s summit.
The armies below clashed before they could reach it.
The sound of steel meeting steel echoed across the land like a scream as Ultor charged into the Valian central battleline. A swing of his sword sent four men flying, and another half a dozen more. The Valians’ shields seemed to reverberate as they absorbed the shockwave, the two infantry crashing into one another while archers and slingers fired projectiles at the back. The cavalries at the wings followed, war elephants tearing through frightened horses near the river while Tiberius’ troops exchanged arrow and missile fire with their counterparts.
“Quick, prepare for a bombardment!” Cassandra ordered as she raised her fork, building up flames at the tips. “Support our left wing and bombard the enemy line!”
Her troops managed to reach the hill’s summit, giving them an impeccable view of the battlefield. Cassandra opened fire first before her soldiers could even position themselves, unleashing a blast of ghostfire to the skies. Her fireball incinerated a horseback archer harassing her husband’s troops, charbroiling the rider and horse both.
Her spellcasters and archers imitated her, firing arrows and magical projectiles from their vantage point. The sudden bombardment, combined with the relentless advance of Tiberius’ troops, spread chaos through the enemy ranks. The enemy’s light cavalry folded back before the Lyceans’ advance, the Valian riders retreating while mounted spellcasters among them used spells to enhance the contingent’s speed. Tiberius chased after them with a ferocious roar, his loyal soldiers echoing his howl as they charged after him.
As she watched him, Cassandra could scarcely compare him with the shy, young soldier that had joined Kairos’ crew one year ago. The boy had matured into a man and commander. One who combined Panos’ valor with wisdom.
The battle was going surprisingly well so far.
Though the automatons’ iron discipline stalemated the Lycean infantry on the right and left, the center was being pushed back. Ultor was tearing through men like butter while Lycean soldiers followed after him, their spears slamming against Valian shields. Dispater brightened at the center of the formation, some enemy defenders transforming into golden statues as he focused his gaze on them. The central force pushed like a fist into soft flesh, the sheer weight of Dispater’s numerous troops pushing the central battleline backward.
However, the Lycean right wing struggled along the river. Though the riders offered a heavy resistance with javelin throwers and spearsmen trying to throw off the archers atop the elephants, the giant beasts didn’t panic; perhaps their handlers had Skills calming them down. Lycean spellcasters managed to raise walls of water to slow the enemy down and a collapse, but they were slowly pushed back all the same.
Could this side of the battleline last for long? They were unfortunately too far away for Cassandra’s troops to support them.
Cassandra glanced at the workers as her men distributed fire rods to them. “Bombard the automatons!” She ordered. “If we can collapse their defense, the day is ours!”
“It already is,” one of the male workers said as he held his fire rods. “The Legate’s plan is going perfectly.”
Cassandra wanted to agree, but something in the servant’s words raised all kinds of alarm. The man’s voice lacked any hint of fear or tension, only the calm certainty of inevitable victory.
And why had Zama sent no soldier to the hills? If he was half the strategist his reputation suggested, he should have understood the danger of artillery fire from this position.
“What would you know about Lord Dispater’s plans?” Cassandra asked while squinting at the servant.
The worker smiled, revealing a row of pointed fangs.
Realizing the danger, Cassandra immediately raised her fork, but it was too late. The worker smashed his fire rods on his knee, detonating it in the middle of the squadron.
The resulting explosion tossed Cassandra off her horse, sending her crash back against the dirt. Flames consumed the hill’s summit, turning it into a candle. Trees were snapped in half, men burnt alive, horses sent packing. Chloris shouted something as she raised her bow, the amazons opening fire on the foes within their own ranks.
“Blood for the Wolf-God!” a worker roared as he emerged from the flames, a layer of black fur covering his skin. His nails had turned into claws sharper than steel, his teeth into fangs. His predatory appearance frightened the horses and Cassandra’s mount swiftly ran away in panic.
“Kill them all!” More beastmen howled as they transformed in the troops’ midst, spreading chaos and confusion. “Let none escape!”
The servants, Cassandra thought in horror as she swiftly rose to her feet. She had distrusted the officers, and missed the invisible people toiling among the war councils, pouring drinks to unsuspecting officers as they openly discussed their plans. As Ultor had warned her, Lycaon’s magic could hide his servant’s true nature from detection.
And they had been all fooled.
But why strike now? Why not poison or murder them in their sleep? It didn’t take her long to guess. Though Cassandra wasn’t certain of the exact figures, she knew that many members of the Senex’s houses were part of this army.
Why assassinate a few at dinner, when you could kill thousands in battle?
Cassandra didn’t think Lyce would risk too many important people in this campaign, but the death toll would weaken Lycaon’s seal. Considering how close he was to escaping already…
The werewolf’s claws clashed with Cassandra’s shield as she protected herself, before retaliating with a thrust of her fork. Her weapon gutted the beast, only for two more to try to flank her. One she incinerated with a blast of ghostfire, and the other she kept at bay with a push of her shield. Her own soldiers were too busy fighting her own battles to help her; the bombardment had stopped as the soldiers frantically tried to escape the flames. Half a dozen of the werewolves rampaged among the surprised mages, who had little hope of defending themselves in close combat.
The enemy werewolf attempted to use her confusion to lunge at her fangs first. Cassandra raised her shield to stop him, the shock pushing her down the hill.
A wave of energy spread across the battlefield.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier, as a mythical power took hold of the hill and the plains. An ancient magic that Cassandra had felt twice in her life; once when she had earned a [Legend], and a second time after becoming a [Hero] in Achlys.
A notification appeared before Cassandra’s eyes, an omen of doom.
General Zama’s [One for All] Legendary Skill activated! All troops under the general’s command will benefit from his personal buffs until the battle’s end!
Cassandra immediately took a look at the battlefield below her, and immediately realized the trap.
The Lycean infantry had pushed deep into the Valian army as the center retreated… and lost all cohesion as they did so. They punched through their foes, but the officers could barely control their own mass of men.
And they soon found themselves flanked.
The automatons had held on the right and left, but their true purpose had been to hide the things lying in ambush behind them. Zama had kept two reserve forces on the sides, hiding them behind a cloud of dust and illusion.
Vulpes had heard tales of living siege engines and the truth wasn’t so far off. As the wind blew the dust away, towering shapes of metals stepped out of their smokescreen. Four-meter tall clockwork juggernauts with great bull horns smashed into the Lyceans, their single crystal eye unleashing streams of searing hot flames at the men. Their hearts were furnaces, their fists burning maces smashing through shields clothing.
But somehow, these monstrosities weren’t half as frightening as the effects of Zama’s magic.
Powerful spellcasters were rare, and their magic could rarely affect more than a few troops at most. Usually, magical support could only give basic temporary enhancements to a few elite troops before battle.
But as Cassandra’s Skills recorded all the buffs suddenly affecting the enemy soldiers on the plain, she realized that magicians could cast a lot of them if they focused on a single person.
[Regen], [Hasten], [Strength Up], [Vitality Up], [Agility Up], [Fire Resistance]...
As far as Legendary Skills went, this one was simple… but frighteningly effective.
The Valian army seemed to explode with power and the Lycean advance came to a screeching halt. The warriors who had been forced backward from the sheer weight of the Lycean advance fought back with renewed strength and speed.
Though Ultor kept hacking his way forward, his allies failed to follow after him. Dispater had been correct, killing Zama would cause his army’s strength to collapse; but the Lyceans would never reach the general. The enemy troops had turned into an impenetrable, regenerating wall protecting their leader so dense that even Ultor struggled to push through. Nor could Cassandra see Zama anywhere among the troops as dust obscured the battlefield.
The wounds of the Valian soldiers healed faster than humanly possible; sometimes the flesh grew enough to spit out arrows and spear points impaled in them. For each foe that Ultor cut down, two more swiftly moved to close the gap. From Cassandra’s vantage point, the enemy seemed to move as a single entity.
While the Thessalan automatons pushed back the right and the left wings of the infantry, the walking siege engines slammed against the isolated Lycean center. Fangs of metal closed on the trapped legionnaires, who could no longer push the central line further.
Worst of all, Zama’s Legendary Skill also affected his riders. The frontline near the river completely collapsed as the empowered Valian started to move as swiftly as horses, their strength doubled. Their charge pulverized walls of water raised in their way, their horns sending horses flying while the archers on their back tore through Lycean armor as if they were made of clothing. The turnaround was so quick that most Lycean riders failed to retreat as the enemy trampled them.
Zama’s troops had temporarily transformed into an army of pseudo-[Heroes].
And Tiberius…
His troops had progressed far and stretched themselves thin as they pursued the retreating riders. But the Valians suddenly turned around, the riders tossing away their robes to reveal steel armor. A shroud of darkness covered their leader as he had his men charge into Tiberius’ force. Cassandra’s husband immediately realized the danger and ordered a retreat, but the enemy quickly gained ground.
Gritting her teeth as the werewolf battered against her shield, Cassandra responded with a surprise thrust of her fork. Her weapon, wreathed in flames, tore through her foe’s belly. The beast kept howling even as his guts fell off, slamming against Cassandra’s protection until she finally blasted his head off with a fireball.
Why weren’t the werewolves affected by Zama’s buffs? As the general’s troops, they should have benefited from them.
Unless…
Unless somebody else commanded them. A leader that even a [Demigod] couldn’t hope to order around.
And the Beast Cult only answered to one man.
“No, no, no…” Cassandra glanced at the battlefield, unable to see her husband among the dust raised by the horsemen’s thundering charge.
And while their elephants caused the Lycean left wing to panic, the Valian heavy cavalry started to turn around to strike Dispater’s army from the rear; just as Cassandra had predicted. Though the Lyceans outnumbered their foes two to one, they would soon be surrounded from all sides.
“Milady!” Chloris called from above. Cassandra looked up, and though flames were spreading through the hill, it appeared her troops had slain the remaining werewolves. A crater fumed where the fire rods had detonated and the corpses of many mages lay on the burning grass. “Milady, what do we do?!”
“How many spellcasters do we have left?” Cassandra shouted, her second-in-command’s crestfallen face was answer enough. “Fall back into the countryside! Retreat to Apollonia!”
The day was lost.
No, Cassandra thought. Not if I can get my husband out of this nightmare.
“I’m going after Tiberius!” Cassandra shouted as she faced the battlefield, unable to see much through the dust. “Don’t wait for me!”
“Milady!” Chloris called her in panic, but Cassandra didn’t listen. Tapping into her reserves of strength, she pointed her fork at the ground and unleashed a blast of flames.
The explosion threw her into the air, above the hill, and towards the battlefield. Using flames to control her improvised flight, she managed to soften her landing. Her flight ended in the plain where her husband’s troops had clashed with the Valians, dispelling a cloud of dust.
Cassandra was immediately welcomed by enemy cavaliers attempting to ride her down. She raised her fork and blasted them to pieces, her ghostfire tearing through their buffs and consuming their flesh. Their horses fell down dead on the yellow grass.
“Tiberius!” Cassandra shouted as she waved her fork to dispel the dust. The sound of clashing steel echoed all around her, as the battle remained underway… but only death surrounded her. The nauseous stench of blood filled the battlefield, while the corpses of the fallen lay in the grass. The butchered remains of Lycean soldiers and horses covered the plain, and Cassandra noticed very few Valians among them.
“Tiberius!” Cassandra’s voice grew more and more frantic. “Tiberius, where are you?!”
She looked around, her cries drowned out by the sound of battle. She noticed movement in the dust as riders clashed in the chaotic melee, though she couldn’t tell if they were friends or foe.
Please, goddess, Cassandra prayed inwardly as she breathed dust. Please, not again… not again… I won’t survive it…
Where was his horse? She had to find Tiberius’ horse somewhere. If it was dead, then her husband would be nearby.
“Please gods,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Cassandra.”
But the gods were cruel, and the voice didn’t belong to her husband.
The challenger rode out of the dust atop a black horse. The illusion that had disguised him as a mere Valian had vanished, revealing the bloody armor and funeral mask underneath. His black warhorse made no sound as it walked, and the world grew colder in the dread rider’s presence.
Even though it was the first time they met in the flesh, Cassandra immediately recognized the figure from Julia’s description.
Romulus, Legate of Lycaon
Legend: The Beast Incarnate (Demigod).
Pantheon: The Wild Hunt.
Level: ???
“Is he who you are looking for, woman?”
Romulus revealed his free hand to Cassandra, lifting her husband’s severed head by the hair.
The sword had torn into him at the jaw, leaving only the upper part of the skull untouched… but Cassandra immediately recognized Tiberius’ gaze. His last expression had been one of absolute terror, perhaps as he saw the blade of death lunging at his neck.
Cassandra felt the fight go out of her at the sight, her heartbeat stopping. She didn’t cry or even breathe. She only froze in place as her body went cold and despair overcame her. She thought she would have been numbed to death now, after losing so many lovers and friends…
But it hurt just as hard as the first time.
“Fret not, young widow,” Romulus declared as he pointed his sword in her direction, his eyes two fire pits straight for Tartarus. “You will join him in death soon enough.”
Cassandra gritted her teeth, her sorrow turning to rage. A new strength born of bitter hatred rose inside her heart, fueling her muscles. Her weapon answered her desire for vengeance and echoed her bloodthirst.
The [Fork of Nemesis]’s power has temporarily increased!
Cassandra’s fork blazed with the flames of revenge as she charged.
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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons ;)
Comments
Joel Sasmad
Well the last of your sons is dead. Congratulations Dispater...
Adrian Gorgey
I think she'll die but serve in the temple so we'll still see her
King Lokajad
Agh cassandra! I'm so sad and scared for her right now T.T
Pariah
I hate this yet love this. Truthfully I really liked the bittersweet victories that blurred the line with defeat that so characterized this story at its outset, and this just breaks it all back to bear. Thank you
Conor lennon
Need to be notable casualties in a war for it to have meaning. Plus tiberius was not close to getting a legend anytime soon meaning this could always happen.
Jonas
Thanks for the great chapter
Max Müller
guess we know who amongst those close to kairos would die (greek stories are almost always tragedies)
Juli Freixi
Nooooooo
Hugh Mungus
Bro what. No way Tiberius is actually dead.
Void Herald
Edited, thanks ;)
Archaon
I knew this would be another Cannae. Always remember, overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer.
Max Müller
This it, Cassandra thought as she entered the command tent. -> This is it, Cassandra thought as she entered the command tent.
