Chapter 260 Attila
After both parties informed each other of their strength, the discussion quickly turned into a one-sided speech by Luca, and Aetius sat opposite Luca without saying a word. There was no other way. The huge gap in strength had already made Aetius lose the right to speak. Although they were both subjects of the Roman Empire, the difference in internal competition had already suppressed Aetius to the point of suffocation.
Everything seemed to be going well, but when the meeting came to discuss the battle plan, the two sides had disagreements.
The Eastern Empire represented by Luca thought they had absolute strength and planned to use siege weapons and a powerful offensive army in one go, imitating the way Scipio the Younger did in the past, using a double attack from land and sea to completely destroy the Vandals in Carthage. Although this would be met with fierce resistance from the Vandals, there would be many uncertain casualties.
However, Aetius believed that they should first seize Mauritania and Caesarea, two provinces adjacent to Iberia, in addition to Africa, so as to completely block the Vandals' retreat. With such a double blow, the Vandals had nowhere else to escape. In this way, the strength of the Vandals was weakened layer by layer, and then the Vandals were completely wiped out. This method was very thorough, but it would take a long time, and there was no guarantee of what decision the Vandals would make after capturing the two provinces. They might move east again. If they entered the territory of the Eastern Empire, it would be hard to say for anyone. No one, including Luca, dared to take such a big risk.
"Sir Luca!" After discussing for a long time, they still couldn't come up with an accurate idea. At this time, Aetius actually called Luca and said slowly: "Sir, you should not have forgotten the 10,000 new soldiers I have now!"
"Sir." Luca smiled and said, "I know what you mean. You just want to train those 10,000 soldiers for your use. But they know nothing. If we just send them up like this, they will only be cannon fodder. Of course, we have enough weapons and equipment to equip them. Tell me, Sir Aetius, how long will it take you to train these soldiers?"
"Two months!" Aetius held up two fingers and said to Luca, "If you have enough patience, I will use these two months to train the 10,000 new soldiers and reorganize the 10,000 hired mercenaries. I still pray for your patience so that I can complete these tasks."
Being treated with such courtesy by the most powerful person in the Western Empire, Luca was naturally full of vanity. After all, everyone had their own difficulties. He also had to solve the problems of the Eastern Empire's troops not adapting to the local climate or other logistical support. This would also take a lot of time, so Luca had to agree to Aetius' request and promised him enough time.
At the same time, in a Roman village in the southwest of Pannonia Province in the northeast of the Western Empire, as night fell, the village was not as quiet as usual. The flames engulfed the houses of all sizes in the village, and the villagers fled in the flames.
War horses, hundreds of them, shuttled through the flames and chaos, the riders holding bows and torches, they roared strangely, set houses on fire with torches, and shot villagers with bows and arrows.
"My Lord!"
The old village chief knelt on the ground, his body hunched, curled up and shivering, his clothes were covered with dirt and blood, his face covered with dust and wrinkles was covered with tears, and the tears were slowly flowing down his wrinkles. In front of him, two horse hooves slowly appeared in the firelight, and above them were the eyes that were still so bright in the dark night.
"Ah, Centaurs, Huns, Huns!" The old village chief was frightened by the sight of the horse's hooves, which aroused his most primitive fear. It was simply the fear of the Huns who were like legends. The Huns plundered the village wantonly, taking away food, clothes, young men and women, and any resources that the village could use.
On the scorched earth, only the old village chief knelt in the ruins, and the Hun cavalry pulled the loaded carriages and the crying men and women slowly passed by his body. He was in tears, but he could do nothing. Beg for mercy? When has mankind ever won over the tears of the devil? Not to mention sympathy, it was useless and a waste of effort.
Not knowing where the courage came from, the old village chief wiped away his tears with his sleeves. He raised his head and saw a scene he had never seen in his life.
A black warhorse, like the mount of the god of death in hell, its black fur blended into the night, and the surrounding firelight could only illuminate its black fur but not the whole thing. There was also a half-figure riding on the horse in the firelight, wrapped in wolf skin, with a flat face and a ferocious expression, and small eyes, but few people dared to look at it, fearing that the gaze could kill people! The horse's back seemed to be his throne, allowing him to sit on it and look down on all living beings like a king, although most of them were old and trembling. His right leg was crossed, and his right hand naturally hung at the bend of his right leg, as if this would make him feel more comfortable. He said nothing and sat motionless on the horse's back, like a statue.
Soon, a fully armed warrior came over. He was not tall, and the burning flames reflected his yellow skin, black armor, and the deep scar on his cheek. He took each step very carefully and slowly. He leaned forward, holding a golden crown in his hand. The crown was made of gold, and a huge gem was inlaid on the front, back, left and right. It was inlaid with small gems, and looked extremely luxurious. It was definitely not an ordinary item.
The warrior raised the crown above his head and came to the man on horseback respectfully. He spoke in a loud voice, but no one knew what he was saying, probably in their language.
The man on the horse didn't say anything, just nodded, made a nasal sound, and hummed dully, as if he agreed.
The guard then came to the old village chief holding the crown, and with a "swish" he drew out the scimitar he carried with him. He gently placed the blade on the old man's neck and lifted his chin little by little, forcing the tearful old man to look into his hungry eyes and face the deepest fear in the old man's heart!
"Tell me! Where did this come from?"
The unskilled Latin sounded a bit awkward, but when it came out of that mouth with a little hoarseness, it sounded extremely vicious.
The old man shuddered at the mere sound of the voice. He could no longer use words to answer what he wanted to answer now. He just shook his head and repeated with trembling lips: "God, save me, God, save me!"
The old man's shaking head meant that he had an answer, although it did not satisfy those people.
"You refused to answer!" The man with the knife showed a ferocious smile on his face. He took a step and slowly walked past the old man.
"No one can deceive our king!"
“Ka-ka-ka…”
The latest novel is published first on Liu9shuba!
The moving body drove the sharp blade, and it also slowly pulled the neck of the old man with a face full of fear. Soon, he twitched and fell to the ground, and the blood that kept oozing out dyed the land red and merged with the scorched earth around him.
While the old man's blood was still flowing, the warrior squatted down, grabbed the old man's head and lifted him up, then placed the crown under his still bleeding neck, letting the blood dye the crown red.
He held the still bleeding crown and presented it to the king on horseback. In the firelight, the man finally showed his yellow teeth, indicating that he was very satisfied.
He grabbed the crown with one hand, and calmly clenched his hands into a circle, slowly putting it on his head, letting the blood flowing from the crown run across his face, making him look more like a demon from hell.
The soldiers gathered around him, raised their weapons and cheered, and they shouted a name: "Attila, Attila, Attila!"
(End of this chapter)