Chapter 31 Destination

The battle lasted a whole night, and we didn't stop killing until the morning sun peeked out the next day.

I stood there for a long time and finally came to my senses. "What have I done?" Looking at my hands covered in blood and recalling the cruelty of last night, I thought, forget it, don't think about it anymore. Looking back, the original camp had been burned clean by the fire overnight, leaving only corpses on the ground. This sneak attack was a heavy blow to us.

“Damn it!”

The old warlord kicked away the shield that was blocking his feet. Although he had won, he looked furious. This action frightened the soldier who had just whispered in his ear and made him dare not speak.

"In one battle, the Burgundians only had 300 people, and we had more than 1,000 people! What was the result? We lost more than half of our men. These clumsy guys couldn't even tell the enemy from their own people. Do you fight by closing your eyes and swinging your sword randomly?" The old man was allowed to rage here, and everyone turned a deaf ear to it. The remaining survivors, except for the 200 or so wounded soldiers, had no time to rest, and all took action to carry the bodies of the dead. At first glance, it was not the fault of the person who cut the wrong person, because the clothes of this Burgundian were too similar to those of many mercenary soldiers. They were not wearing armor, and it was easy to make mistakes when carrying the bodies, not to mention in the dim light at night. When he dropped the body, he looked up and saw the annoying phlegm throat. His face was pale. I don't know if he overexerted himself last night or was scared. He was hunched over, and the shovel was shaking non-stop. He no longer looked as arrogant as before.

"We lost about 300 people last night, and there are 200 unlucky guys whose career as mercenaries may have ended here."

Andrew dragged a corpse (because he had to hold the flag with one hand, we all carried the corpse except him) and came with me to the large pit that had been dug temporarily. We threw the body of our comrade who had only served for three days into the pit. There were also soldiers responsible for burying the body.

"I saw the cavalrymen taking the money bags from the bodies according to the old governor's instructions. Shouldn't they send these things back to their families?"

I asked in confusion.

"Ha, Luca, have you ever heard of a king or a general who cares about these guys who work for money?" Andrew pointed at the corpse in the pit and said, "Don't you see it? The lives of us mercenaries are only worth 75 denarii. Looking at the performance of those people last night, anyone with a discerning eye can see that few of us can get the first week's salary."

"But we're still alive now, aren't we?"

"But if we go on like this we will surely die!" Andrew looked very excited, which I didn't quite understand. Maybe he knew something, which made him so frightened.

"Andrew, what do you know?"

"We seem to be cannon fodder." Andrew said hesitantly, "I've seen groups of cannon fodder troops before, acting as pioneers and engaging in direct hand-to-hand combat with the enemy to consume the enemy's physical strength and numbers." Andrew stroked the flagpole stained with blood and murmured, "God, I pray that you can come at the time of the decisive battle and save me from danger!"

I don't know what this guy is praying for or why, but I can still see something unnatural in his worried expression. Time passed by minute by minute, the sun gradually rose, and the soldiers who were busy burying the bodies finished their work (originally they wanted to cremate them, but preparing wood was too time-consuming. I think it might be that the old governor felt sorry for the buried Denarius). After collecting the money bags of the dead, the old governor ordered some to be distributed to the disabled and sent them away. In this way, the entire army was reduced from a thousand to only more than 500 people. The Roman cavalry following the old governor divided the remaining 500 people into five squares, lined up, and continued to move forward. Now the proportion of the governor's cavalry is much larger. Although there are some losses, the loss of one or two unlucky guys is not a loss at all for these veterans.

There was a lot less joy along the way. I think this night raid dealt a heavy blow to the hearts of all the survivors. No one was bragging like a sparrow. The fear of war was now on everyone's mind, even Andrew. "Luga," Andrew said to me as we walked, "or we can find a chance and leave."

"Andrew? Why are you so upset?"

I asked in confusion, but as I saw Andrew's uneasiness growing stronger and stronger, my heart began to panic. I suddenly lost my decision and watched the troops getting farther and farther away.

"Hey! Cheer up!"

The old governor galloped past us on his horse, shouting: "Since we have been attacked by the Burgundians, we are not far from the real battlefield! Come on, Marshal Aetius is waiting for us ahead!"

"Oh, did you hear that?"

Andrew whispered to me, "We don't have any more time, we have to leave!"

"Andrew, where can we go if we leave?"

"Who cares? Go wherever you want! As long as we die, this flag will be taken away by others, dismantled, and sold for money. Then no one will ever know the glory of the Seventh Gemina Legion again!"

"Hey! You two!"

The cavalryman of the warlord noticed our movements and shouted to stop us from talking. He rode up to us, sweating profusely. He was not as relaxed as those of us who were walking. Because there were no stirrups, he had to use his inner thighs to squeeze the horse's belly to avoid falling off. This was not an easy job. The cavalryman wiped his sweat and said, "Don't think you can break the rules just because you came up with an idea yesterday!"

Andrew and I nodded in agreement, but the cavalryman didn't seem to intend to give up. He must have heard something he shouldn't have heard, so he accompanied us for the rest of the journey. Andrew's escape plan failed.

It was already afternoon, and dust was rising on the dirt road in front of us. We could hear the sound of horse hooves approaching from afar. Soon, we saw five civilians on horseback blocking our way.

"It's a scout."

Andrew whispered.

"Report the unit number!"

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The leading scout waved his hand and asked.

"We are the mercenaries supporting Akwe-Sextia," the old commander in chief said solemnly, "We encountered some roving Burgundians on the way, and it took us too much time to encircle and suppress them, so we were delayed for some time."

"It's good that you can come. Now many supporting mercenaries have been attacked by the Burgundians. Come with us, Marshal Aetius is waiting!" After saying that, the scout turned around on his horse and acted as a guide to lead the way for us.

Just a short distance after passing a small woods, a huge military camp appeared in front of us. There was a temporary tall wooden wall with a tower every few hundred meters. The soldiers standing guard on it were attracted by our arrival.

The scout arrived at the foot of the city and shouted to the soldiers on the gate tower: "Open the gate! These are the mercenaries of Akwe-Sextia!"

Not long after the words fell, the huge wooden camp gate slowly opened, and two teams of fully armed Roman soldiers came out. They lined up neatly on both sides of the camp gate, guarding us as we entered one by one.

Yes, we have arrived at our destination exactly.

:

well.

(End of this chapter)