Chapter 731: The Vandal Invasion

It is said that time flies like an arrow, the days and months pass by like a shuttle, and time passes quickly, just like seeing with the naked eye the sun rising from the distant sky of Asia at a movable speed, finally hanging in the middle of the sky, and then slowly falling.

The passage of time seems so normal, but for those who are about to face a battle, the wait before the battle can really be described as a year.

The next morning, the sea surface was calm, but there were undercurrents beneath the surface. The gentle sea water kept hitting the sandy beach on the shore, making a roaring "splashing" sound.

On the coast, there are teams of soldiers, no, it should be said that they are militiamen. They are the border guards for coastal defense. Since there is no trace of the patrol troops, they can only mobilize them to come to the coastline.

The Vandal warships were already within reach, which was a great irony, because when Rome was fighting against Carthage, it had never seen the invading fleet at such a close distance, and the invaders were none other than the so-called vassal states of Rome.

"Cheer up, guys. After this battle, we'll go home and eat. I'm starving. I hope the next battle will give me a good appetite." The border guard officer was wearing a suit of scale armor and a leather belt made of cowhide with nine bronze plates hanging on it.

It is said that this bronze medal was passed down from this guy's grandfather's grandfather's grandfather. It can be said to be a family heirloom, a real treasure.

Perhaps he realized that this was the only thing a border guard officer could do for Rome. After all, the Romans were no longer willing to see the desperate scene of the Visigoths approaching the city forty years ago.

Although he said very arrogant and presumptuous words, in his heart, he must have been as sad as the soldiers behind him.

But as an officer, he fulfilled his responsibilities. The soldiers standing behind him had different expressions on their faces, but the only thing in common was the beads of sweat flowing down from under their brass helmets.

Hundreds of people gathered together but it seemed as if there was no one there. Everyone was silent and no one made a sound.

This included the officer who was shouting loudly to try to boost the morale of the soldiers. He also made no sound, and his wide-open mouth looked as if someone had grabbed his neck tightly.

Before my eyes was a flag that cut through the morning mist, with a red cross drawn on the brown flag. It fluttered in the gloom of dawn, and was particularly conspicuous even from a distance.

The warships came one after another. Although they were not huge, the huge number made the Romans standing on the shore shocked.

The others couldn't stand any longer. They looked at each other in bewilderment. They had never faced such a large battle before. They could see that if they stood on the shore and faced them, it would be a dead end.

"Oh, my God!" The officer finally uttered a sound with his mouth wide open. In front of him were hundreds of warships rushing towards them.

The Vandal warships were getting closer and closer, and the countless oars on both sides were paddling the water up and down, splashing huge waves and pushing the warships against the wind and waves.

Imagine, how can it not be frightening to see hundreds of warships expand into a huge force that almost covers the entire sea surface? Moreover, the Roman soldiers defending on the coast were so weak that they were not able to compete with them at all. This feeling of despair lingered deeply in the hearts of every soldier.

"I, I need to tell the officers about this now!"

At this time, an elderly veteran next to the officer was obviously uneasiness. He was already sweating profusely and trembling as he spoke to the officer.

Before the officer could react, he saw the old soldier had already slipped away.

"Damn it! Come back! Come back!"

The officer shouted at the top of his lungs, but the old soldier, who had already been frightened out of his wits, refused to look back. He dropped his spear and shield and ran as fast as he could, dragging his old body.

With a leader, the other soldiers stared with their eyes wide open, looking at the direction where the old man ran away. They whispered to each other, and the main content was self-evident. "Wow! Wow! Wow!"

The Vandal warships came riding on the wind and waves. The huge sails and the blood-red cross made everyone outside retreat in fear.

"There are so many of them, there are too many of them!"

"Damn it! Damn it! We are no match at all!"

The soldiers began to hesitate. They were unsure if they could fight, and their morale began to waver.

"No retreat! I order you, no retreat!" The officer turned around from time to time and gave orders to other soldiers, trying to use his little remaining authority to suppress the already shaky morale.

But how could the soldiers muster the courage to do this? They did not even have as many warships as the Vandal ones, not to mention the ferocious Vandal soldiers armed with axes and spears.

“Run, run, run!”

This was the voice that was faintly heard in the hearts of everyone present. The soldiers were terrified. They had to take action: resist and wait for death, or just run away.

Of course, he looked up at the simple spear in his hand, then at the old shield in the other hand, and then lowered his head to look at his casual clothes from home, which could not provide any protection against the axe.

These things are no match for the blows of the Vandal's battle-axes! The soldiers retreated two more steps.

"What! What are you all doing!?"

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The leading officer roared at the top of his lungs, but his roar was not even one-tenth as loud as the roar of the waves smashed by the Vandal warships.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Seeing that the leading Vandal warship was less than a hundred meters from the sea, the soldiers who had come together could no longer bear the fear lingering in their hearts. They turned pale and retreated repeatedly, muttering: "They are coming, they are coming!"

"Don't run, don't run!"

Seeing that the situation was not good, the officer rushed over and grabbed the leading soldier, whose face had already turned pale.

"Don't run! Roman soldiers are not allowed to escape in such a humiliating way! This is Roman law, and this is my order!"

Even if he shouted until his voice was hoarse, no one would obey his orders anymore.

"Screw your law!" The soldier who was being held tightly roared, and seemed to be furious. He grabbed the officer's chain mail and pushed it open.

The old officer let out a scream like a broken gong and fell to the ground. His armor and ancestral bronze plate were covered with sand. The soldier who pushed him down had already run away with the others, leaving him alone.

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

The soldiers fled, and the officer's last bit of courage disappeared with them. He panicked, and trembling, he climbed out of the sand, crying all the way, and chased in the direction the others fled.

"My king, they are running away!" On the bow, a noble officer pointed at the Roman soldiers fleeing on the shore ahead and said to Gaiseric. "Your prestige is like Attila, bringing them endless fear."

Gaiseric did not show any joy at all because of such praise. He looked gloomy, stared at the city of Rome not far away, and murmured in a low voice: "I hope he is in it, so that I will have the desire to conquer it."

(End of this chapter)