"In the earliest known history, this region was known as the Hassian Peninsula and in the era between 437 BCE and 63 BCE was home to one of the most unusual civilizations in world history. First founded by Greeks and Illyrians as a pirate settlement, the civilization that grew out out of the ancient city of Has would come to dominate northern Europe economically, militarily and culturally. Amongst the ruins is evidence that traders from as far off as Sarmatia and Aethiopia visited this far frontier of civilization. The Hassians also provided the only (and probably rather biased) history of the region during this Era."
-South West England Tourist Pamphlet on the Has archaeological site
-21st of April, 72 BC-
From his spot atop a tree in his forrest Cameron could see the hated city. Cameron was a celt, a man of wood and stone. Those in the city were aliens, be they from Greece, Africa, Latium, or even other celtic lands, they were men of iron. Just as the woods and rocks have always been here, he will forever be here. Just as iron rusts and bends, their walls will collapse and they will all one day feel his -
His thought was interrupted when a bird pecked him. “Bird! Do you not see that I, a celt, am one with nature? Why do you attack me?” The bird pecked him again, and again, and soon was joined by others. This was odd, they had never done this before, it was as if they didn’t want him in the tree. “I’m going! I’m going!” He said as he climbed down to the underbrush below.
It was midday, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a relaxing breeze blew over the city from the harbour. Yet for Agon, today was a bad day. “Is something the matter sir?” Asked his assistant. “It’s a beautiful day.” He added in an attempt to cheer Agon up.
Tall, fast and strong, Agon turned on his heels and grabbed his assistant by the shoulders. “I am an important person.” he began. “So you can believe me when I say that I have better things to do than stand at the end of a pier waiting to greet a foreigner who is coming here to tell us how to defend ourselves, and that a nice day is no consolation!”
His assistance started to stammer out a “Yes sir!” when the blast of a horn signalled the arrival of the expected company. Agon watched as the large chains that acted as the port’s gates were pulled up and away from the incoming Quinquereme, allowing it entrance. He watched as the brilliant red ship navigated the waters of the harbour and made it’s way to the pier he stood upon.
Agon gave the order for his assembled men to stand at attention as the ship docked. “Ahoy!” Someone from onboard called. A man in the dress of a Roman general walked over to the rail and looked down at Agon and the assembled men on the pier. “So you’re the scrubs that I’m here to train?!”
“So you’re the military genius who hails from a nation that can’t even put down a slave revolt.” Agon shot back, word of Rome’s humiliating defeats at the hands of the rebel slave known as Spartacus had reached even here.
“Oh I doubt your people could do any better!” The man said as he went down the boarding ramp followed by his personal guard and a dozen people carrying supplies. “Now are you going to show us to where we will be staying or are you just here to try my patience?”
“Very well. Follow me.” Agon said. As the two men walked down the pier Agon extended his hand, “The name is Agon, commander of the city garrison.”
“Kelly Romano, general and patrician.” the foreigner replied and shook Agon’s hand. “I’ve fought many celts in Iberia. If I’m not mistaken these tribes here are celtic as well.” Kelly explained as they walked into the busy streets of the city.
“I don’t know what the celts of Iberia are like, I know some have been hired as mercenaries for the field armies, but I myself have never met one let alone fought one.” Agon replied as they walked through one of the many market places of the city, and he made a mental note of one vendor who was selling fruit at an exceptionally low price. “I can tell you Britannia isn’t Iberia, that Britons aren’t Iberians, and that they certainly aren’t accepting of our presence.”
“Well that’s your problem, I’m just here to help you be better suited to deal with it.” Kelly replied as they reached the end of the market and were unable to advance as a long line of people passed by with somber music played from bronze horns. “Now what is this, some sort of parade?”
“Close” Agon replied. “Funeral procession, council member from some small fishing village.” The somber crowd passed and they were able to continue. After a few minutes of walking they arrived in front of an of an Old storage building. “Here we are! Make yourselves at home.” Agon said and started to walk off.
“Here?!” Kelly asked in surprise. “I’m a man of dignity!”
“Yes. Oh and word of advice, remember your cuirass if you go outside the city, there’s a wild Briton on the loose in the woods.”
Kelly grabbed Agon by the arm. “This simply won’t do.”
For a man named Damianos, concentration was hard enough to come by, and as he lived in the most exciting city in the known world, concentration was virtually impossible. Unfortunately, as an inventor he needed to concentrate. Unfortunately for the city, being under house arrest was his only means of ensuring concentration. So, with a wicker basket of fresh produce in his hands, he walked out onto the central square to commit his monthly act of disturbing the peace. At the center of the square there was a statue of an Illyrian raiding ship, as always he would climb on top of it and shout remarks that were inflammatory yet not treasonous. “Damianos! I implore you to not do this now!” A guard who was patrolling the square called.
Damianos didn’t heed the guard’s request, and after a minute of climbing was atop the statue. Without caring to look out upon who was in the square at the time he began, “The belief in supernatural deities is foolish!” His ears were immediately met with more intense jeering than usual for such a remark. He looked down and saw what appeared to be a public funeral.
Ardghal was upset, just once he’d like to have something without someone tainting it. He became an admiral, and then the moment his dad died he found himself accused of being unqualified. Now at his father’s funeral some ass was screaming heresy during the sermon.
“Shit! Sorry I was unaware of this funeral! My bad! I shall now go place myself under house arrest!” the mad man atop the statue yelled as he climbed down and was escorted away by a guard.
The sermon started again, and Ardghal tried his best to pay attention, yet he was unable to take his attention of the priestess. A small part of him wondered if being aroused at this time was disrespectful to his father. A much bigger part of him was focused on her black hair and blue eyes.
For High Priestess Michaela Capra this would have been the ideal funeral had the madman not interrupted it. The man who had died, Alexander Murchadh had been a man of honour, integrity, and gravitas, clearly he was a favourite of the gods. A fact that would make a nice speech, “This man represented a marginalized settlement and brought it to prominence. He successfully stood against attempts to allocate power to only the higher stratas of society. He was the head of the household that now boasts an admiral. If the gods smile upon him in death as they did in life, then we need not worry about his eternal fate.” She looked over the crowd and her eyes met the son’s, “Very recently there have been accusations made about Alexander’s political actions. Which only proves that even snakes know how easy it is to blame the dead.”
Ardghal knew that last part was for him, it was nice to know that someone in this large city full of conspirators and swindlers was sympathetic towards him. As she was midway through the closing of the ceremony she suddenly stopped and turned towards the east, he followed her gaze and noticed that what must have been every bird in the city had taken off and flown towards the heavens. “That’s ominous…” He mumbled under his breath. Suddenly a tremor pulsated through the ground and sent everyone in attendance tumbling to the ground.
It continued for 3 minutes, across the city poorly built buildings collapsed, cobble stone roads that had been flat for centuries buckled, and wooden piers broke free from the mud of the harbour bottom.
“Between 72 BCE and 65 BCE an event known as the “Occurrence of the First Century BCE” took place. It was a world wide interruption in history. Most places have no records of what happened during the Occurrence, only records of rebuilding afterwards, leading some historians to call it the “Little Dark Age”. The Hassians however, did keep records of what supposedly happened during this time, and their accounts tell a wild story of everything from increased rainfall, to battle against enemies matching the description of the Han Imperial Army. Archaeology shows that the city of Has was besieged at least once in this period, geographical evidence shows that the weather and seismic patterns were highly irregular, and 6 mass graves full of a long extinct breed of pony (believed to be related to the shetland) have been found and radiocarbon dated to the period. Exactly what caused the Occurrence is still a matter of speculation.”
-Echos From the Past: World History to the 16th Century, page 111
Chapter 1: Downpour
“By late spring, two years after the great tremor, the Hassian people found themselves in the depths of disparity. Though their city had been rebuilt with admirable speed and their ports continued to bring them wealth, the near constant torrential downpour that was matched only by the seemingly constant stream of bad news in varying severity had brought all of society down into a slump.”
-the Chronicler Usibeos, Epics of Last Free City
-May, 68BCE-
“Put your backs into it you wretched dogs!” Severinus Primus hollard through the rain. for miles in either direction all one could see was good honest labour done by a Hassian Field Army. “The Roman Army builds roads that will used for generations and forts that become the hearts of thriving cities on a regular basis, and you’re telling me that a little rain is going to stop you from building a wall?!”
From horseback, Legatus Kelly and General Rin Galeil watched the men work. “So you Romans use your army for civil works?” Rin questioned. “I was under the impression that this was just to improve the army’s work ethic.”
“Well you can have the army do it for free, or you can pay for some private business to subcontract it out to the lowest bidder.” Kelly replied. “It also is important as armies should be expected to build their own field works.” Rin nodded his head in understanding. “Now if you'll excuse me, that officer sounds a tad too Latin for my comfort.” he said and rode over towards where Severinus was directing construction.
Severinus scowled as the Roman Legatus rode towards him on his pompous purebred horse, proudly wearing his pompous red cape and pompous bronze chest piece. “Oh Jupiter give me patience…”
“You there.” Kelly called out. “You sound awfully Latin, and you know quite a bit about the Roman Army.”
“Yes. I was a Centurion before I realized that Pompey didn’t pay, and that the fine city of Has did.” Severinus replied.
“You are aware of the punishment for desertion?”
“Yes, I will be publicly beat to death by my peers.” He said. “I am also aware of the fact that this isn’t Rome.” He said, and as if on cue, a very large Briton wielding a wooden mallet walked up behind him and stood there imposingly.
“Very well then.” Kelly said through gritted teeth. Then, feeling the need to exert some of his authority shouted out for all to hear, “Any man caught shirking work will spend the night in stocks on the bad side of the wall, with is trousers down and his busem bared to that forest full of Atrebates!” He said and rode off to inspect construction further down the line.
At the Council building a meeting was in session. Chlotharius Alban a Belgian, and proud member of the Hassian Council, addressed the council’s guest. “Admiral Ardghal, today’s council session has been called to discuss your reluctance to deploy the fleet. The summer trade season will soon be upon us and we need the seas to be pirate free. Your response.”
Ardghal took a deep breath to help compose himself, his dad did this every day, surely he could do this, “A fair concern. Unfortunately the weather has been highly unseasonable, the wind and rain has created a fierce and choppy body of water that would be suicidal to patrol. When the weather finally clears I will personally lead a campaign to pacify the tribes of the Celtic coasts and those of the Germanic Sea.”
“Big words for a man who’s afraid of a little rain!” One councilor called out.
“Ardghal is the man who circumnavigated the island of the Milesians, clearly if he is uncomfortable with the conditions then they must be truly dangerous.” Another, who Ardghal recognised as one of his father’s former friends called out.
Chlotharius gave a sigh of exasperation, “People, we are not here to point fingers! We are here for solutions!”
“I propose a combined land and sea assault on Suebia, the Germans are the worst pirates and unlike the Celts they aren’t even civilised enough to trade!” One man proposed.
“Riddiculous! Landing an entire army on the south shore of the Germanic Sea would be an amazing feat even by Alexander’s standards!” Another yelled back.
The room exploded into bickering over logistics, cost, potential gain, and something about elephants. Ardghal could only sigh as the council became a shouting match.
In a small tavern within the city an extremely drunk Agon was ranting on about his problems to one of the establishment’s regulars. “So… soo… this Roman prick comes up here to tell me how to to my… my… my job. BUT! He like d-doesn’t do that! He just spends all his time getting the field army to build this stupidly large wall from Caerloyw all the way to Rughenor. I tell you it’s a *hic* conspiracy made by the Councilors and the Romans to stunt the growth of Has!”
“Please sit somewhere else.” Morgan asked kindly. and watched as the tall Illyrian lumbered off and passed out on the floor a few feet away. He heard the tavern door swing open and he watched as a large Italian and a tall Balt entered the Tavern. “Richis! Julius! Wonderful to see you all!”
“As it is wonderful to see you!” Richis Dropbearis Vindictus replied. “Now where are the wenches at, it’s time for a celebration!” He said as he looked around the room expectantly.
“Now now those lovely ladies only come out during the later hours. Come sit down let us talk.” Morgan said and turned to Julius, “So I heard that you have been off exploring? Do tell.”
“Oh yes!” Julius began, “Normally I explore by sea, obviously not in this weather. So I resolved to walk around the entire Hassian Peninsula!” He said, beaming with pride. “My feet hurt now…”
“Oh wow that’s a long journey!” Morgan said in amazement.
“If your feet hurt you can walk it off later. Come on tell us what you saw!” Richis urged.
“Well I was surprised to see that Britons farm the same way as the people of my homeland. I saw the wall construction, it seems to be coming along nicely. I tried to visit an Illyrian village, but they threw axes at me. I saw a giant Celtic rock circle, that was nice. There were a lot of cliffs and forests. I was chased by some crazy Briton who wanted to drive me back to Greece. It was good, and horrifying.” Julius explained.
“Now one of these days I just must take you guys to see what really should be my kingdom.” Morgan said, and momentarily day dreamed about a triumphant return to his tribal kingdom in central Britain. “So Richis, what have you been up to?”
“Well, shortly after the fall harvest I bought a few stores of grain with my immeasurable riches, and right now I’m debating whether I should sell it to the starving masses at an exorbitant price, or if I shall give it away and hope to use this act of kindness as a means to get favours from the people.” He said and took a swing of his mead.
“I’d suggest-” Morgan was cut off when the door of the tavern was thrown wide open and a dozen city guards marched in, picked their passed out commander off the floor, then marched over to where the three of them sat and grabbed Julius.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Richis demanded as he and Morgan gave chase to the group of guards who were hauling off their friend.
-Central England, lands of the Atrebates-
The Atrebates were among the most powerful tribes of Britain. They were also entirely unsurpassed in their aggression towards the city of Has. They were the main reason why the wall was being built.
However, while building that wall, the field army of General Rin was vulnerable to attack. That’s where General Sheogorath and his army of irregulars came in. He had been tasked with leading an army of Hassian Britons and mercenaries in the lands beyond the wall to intercept any large Atrebate force that ventured too close.
Three days ago he had heard news, a force of nearly 2 thousand Atrebates and an unknown number of allied Britons were marching on the wall. After a night of studying his maps he decided that his best course of action would be to deploy his forces in the area in and around a clearing that cut through the forest foot path that the enemy would most likely take. Thus he stood within his chariot and looked out upon the path. conditions were perfect as a dense fog had begun to settle over the land. Then he heard it. The call of the black bird his forward forces were giving him a warning.
Within a few minutes he heard footsteps, thousands of them. His hand tightened on his long sword and he awaited for them to come into view. When they did it had the expected result, they abruptly stopped and confusion set in amongst the ranks. They hadn’t expected to see anyone on this path, and the chariot was the greatest symbol of authority amongst the Britons. Shegorath smiled when he noticed the mood of the enemy force change from confusion to outright panic, his forward forces were doing their job.
“Well what are you waiting for? Kill them!” he ordered and felt the ripple of air as the chariot mounted scorpion ballista hurled it’s massive steel tipped bolt at the enemy, disrupting their attempt to form a shield wall. From the flanks came mercenary cavalry from Cantabria, throwing their soliferrum javelins as they rode into direct melee with the disorganised enemy, and his axe-wielding war band charged in to support. As the enemy broke and tried to retreat he committed his chariots to the fight. When he neared a retreating enemy he swung his sword as the small bit of exposed flesh allowed by the warrior’s armour and helmet. The blow struck its target and cut into its victim’s spinal cord. He repeated the process for each retreating foe that his chariot caught up with. Within a matter of moments the engagement in the clearing had been decided, he took the reins of the chariot from the driver and cautiously moved down the forest path.
The path was lined with woad-painted bodies. These men, the ones who had tried to stand and fight had at least met a proper warrior’s fate against his Hassian Briton warbands. As his chariot bumped over the bodies he saw some of the last fights in the forest wrapping up decisively in his favour. Sheogorath allowed himself a smile, and soon the mad general of Has was laughing maniacally as he rode down the path.
Upon reaching the part of the path that that would have had the column's rear guard he brought his chariot to a halt. The retreating enemy had been driven here, to a V-shaped formation of pikes that would have acted as a collection point for the fleeing enemy. This was the coward’s fate, a literal meat grinder as roughly two hundred pikes struck at the lightly armoured Atrebate soldiers from three sides, and the rest of Sheogorath’s army moved into seal the exit. He stepped out of his chariot and found a suitably nimble looking horseman. “Go tell Rin that he need not worry about attack in the next few months, it will take the Atrebates nearly a year to recover from a defeat this severe.” The man nodded and rode off to deliver the message. Sheogorath then turned his attention the the growing body count generated by his pikes. “Excellent.” He said and returned to his chariot.
Back in the Council Chamber, Chlotharius was trying to bury his head in his hands. The debate over whether or not to invade Germania had escalated greatly. At the moment the City Guard was doing its best to enforce order in the chamber, Admiral Ardghal spoke of current ship construction, a tinkerer (who had been brought out of house arrest for just this occasion) was trying to explain how his invention of a spring loaded wheel would allow for better movement of supply wagons through the vast forests of Germania, and a Priestess of the Greco-Roman faith had started giving predictions of this storm finally breaking in three weeks’ time. The doors of a the chamber flew open again and more guards entered, this time dragging along their drunk leader, and a Balt with worn out shoes. They were followed by an angry looking Celt and a rich looking Roman.
“Here this is the man I’ve told you about, the one who explored the Germanic Sea and landed on its coast!” one of the council members from before exclaimed. “Surely he can enlighten us as to the true possibility for an invasion of Germania.”
All eyes in the room fell on Julius. “I… I… Ugh… I guess it’s possible. You would have to put a large focus on securing the Jutland Peninsula first, that way you won’t have to worry about them cutting off your supply lines. Then after that you’d have the ever painful job of differentiating between pirate Germanic tribes and trading Germanic tribes. Then after that it’s a matter of finding a good beach to land on and hoping that your punitive raid doesn’t get you wrapped up in Germania’s complicated web of alliances and blood feuds.” He finished and nervously looked around the room.
Chlotharius had really had enough of this. He stood up, and spoke loudly for all to hear, “Ok I think we’ve all heard enough. Can we please just vote on whether or not we shall pursue this invasion plan so that we can move on to some other matter?” He waited and the room settled down. “Ok now all for it?” The room exploded with cheers and he eyeballed what appeared to be a two thirds majority. “All against?” Very few hands went up, it appeared that most people in the room would rather abstain than appear unpatriotic. “Then the matter is settled, plans will be drawn up by the military, and we will move on to our next topic, increased punishment for tax evasion.”
“Kelly’s Wall, a massive stone faced earth work stretching across the border of Southwest England, appears often in British folklore. When the Romans found the wall during their conquest of Britain, the Emperor himself refused to venture near it for fear of incurring the wrath of the builder. Supposedly it was one of King Arthur’s last holdouts against the Saxons. The Saxons believed the wall to have been built by giants. Napoleon planned on using the wall to help him establish a defensible beachhead in Britain. In the 1870 Hienrich Schliemann proposed that the wall could be Hassian in origin, this theory has since been confirmed by radiocarbon dating and formal archeological digs.”
-The script for an on site tour guide
A/N:
I hope to get chapter 2 out as soon as possible.
Chapter II: A War that Straddles the Division Between Myth and History
Chapter 2: A War that Straddles the Division Between Myth and History
Chapter 2: A War that Straddles the Division Between Myth and History
“As the high priestess of Has predicted, the storm that had hindered the Hassian fleet so far broke after three weeks. During that time the entire nation had been put to work building ships and gathering supplies for the expedition to Germania. The mission was launched with the intent to remove the threat of piracy from their trade lanes in the Germanic Sea. Despite this simple initial objective, the situation would soon escalate in ways that not even the gods could have predicted.”
-the Chronicler Usibeos, Epics of Last Free City
-Early June 68BCE, off the coast of Jutland-
Admiral Ardghal scanned the coast of the great peninsula before him. This was Jutland, the great barrier between the North Sea and the Germanic Sea. He had sailed around it many times before, he had fought pirate off the coast, but he had never landed on it before. Now he was leading an invasion fleet of around 200 ships to ferry nearly four thousand men under the command of General Rin to the peninsula.
-2 weeks prior to the invasion, the Roman style villa of Kelly Romano-
Kelly was a man of dignity. That old storehouse Agon had tried sticking him with would never do. So, he had a villa built in the countryside, his own piece of Roman high society for him and his staff of Centurions to enjoy. As he gazed out on its man made pond, now overflowing with rainwater, he was reminded that he was far from Rome. Turning back to face his two guests who currently sat around his table he took a breath and spoke, “I would like to inquire as to your invasion plans, and inform you that I and my staff will be joining your operation.”
Admiral Ardghal was far from pleased by this news, “And under what authority do you insert yourself into Hassian foreign operations, and claim space on my ships, space that is needed for the soldiers and supplies of the Hassian army?”
General Rin Galeil cleared his throat, “Yes I also fail to see why it would be of any interest to you, the Roman frontier is far off, and last I checked the Republic has its hands tied with King Mithridates VI of Pontus.” The Mithridatic Wars as they were called, had made Rome rather unpopular in Has, as Pontus was a fellow Hellenic state.
“Admiral, you seem to forget that my men and I came here on our own boat, and can easily just follow along with your fleet, and I highly doubt Has is in any position to refuse the aid of veteran soldiers. As for your implication Rin, I want to see how the new Roman trained Hassian Army will perform, and I’d like to remind you that after the destruction caused by the Cimbri, Rome takes a special interest in all things concerning the germanic tribes.” Kelly explained.
“Fair enough.” Ardghal and Galeil said almost in unison.
“The plan is pretty simple, it’s a large operation with a few unknown variables so simplicity is preferred.” Ardghal explained. “I drop Rin and some of his men off on Jutland, then after they built a suitable fortified outpost, I take them to the next spot and rinse and repeat until Germania is pacified. Then I take the fleet to begin anti-piracy operations in the Germanic Sea.
-Early June 68BCE, off the coast of Jutland-
Aboard Richis’ luxury yacht, Julius, Richis, and Morgan moved in formation with the other ships. “You know,” Julius began, “the Germans are so uncivilized that one can gauge the power of a tribe by simply measuring the radius of their zone of depopulation.”
“Zone of depopulation?” Richis asked as he took a swig of his finest wine.
“It’s a barbarian thing, and I mean like really barbaric. Basically, because trade isn’t developed, Tribes will try to amass as much land as possible and ensure that no one but them lives in it, as to ensure they have what they need to grow and survive. Since they are also too primitive for clear borders, the result is less a conquest and more a depopulation, thus the term.” Morgan explained.
“The Suebi are surrounded by fifty miles of depopulated forest at all times.” Julius added. “They are supposedly the gold standard for Germanic barbarism.”
“For once, let’s hope that we only stumble upon the bronze.” Richis joked and took a swig of whine.
-Early June 68BCE, foreign quarter of Has-
Agon was considered by some to be a miracle worker; he maintained law and order in a city of 20,000, a city that contained Britons, Greeks, Illyrians, and Persians, a city that regularly saw traders from Italia, Northern Africa, the wider Celtic world, the wider Greek world, the Sarmatian Steppe, Asia, and the strange lands south of the Sahara, a city that contained a bustling foreign quarter that contained embassies from every land known to civilized man, embassies from lands unknown to civilized man man, and embassies from lands that civilized man couldn’t possibly imagine.
Agon found himself in one such embassy. The people were so Asiatic that they made Parthians look European in comparison. Their writing looked like slashes of ink arranged into vague pictures. Their native tongue sounded neither civilized or barbarian, in fact it was unlike any other language spoken in the city. Their architecture was exotic beyond belief with it roofs that swooped up into narrow peaks, and apparent absence of glass, the Embassy stood out like a sore thumb amongst the many Greco-Roman style buildings. The guards wore steel laminar armour and carried an unusual pole arm that ended in two dagger-like blades, one pointed forward and the other protruding at a perpendicular angle. Its inhabitants practiced a strange dance in the morning, which was supposedly linked to how they were so good at fist fighting. Their food was probably the most unique, as they used oils to cook their foods (creating a greasy but tasty dish) rather than using them as dressing for vegetables. It was hard to believe that such a strange place could exist, yet goods (mostly silk) from the supposed Han Dynasty continued to flow into the city (whether or not their boast of having a population in the high tens of millions was true was a different matter) on an annual basis, greatly contributing to Has’ virtually unrivaled wealth.
Agon was here on a matter that he considered to be beneath him. Across the table from him sat an odd group composed of a female merchant and from the Han Dynasty, a general from the kingdom of Armenia, a Greek, a Scythian noble, and the magistrate of the Han embassy. On his side of the table was himself, councilor Chlotharius of Belgica, a Greek councilor, a Briton Chief, and a Persian councilor. The two parties had met here today to discus renewing Has’ membership in the Golden Antler Trade Company, an old treaty system created by some Scythian Noble when they were at their peak of power aimed at ensuring the efficiency of trade. Has had consistently benefitted from its membership, so it was almost certain that it would be renewed. All that was up for debate was some details of the renewal.
“Our terms are simple,” Chlotharius began, “the Company is to refrain from being involved in Hassian politics, and is to refrain from partaking in any activity that may undermine the sovereignty of our sacred Polis.”
The other party discussed amongst themselves in what sounded like Scythian. Although Scythian was an Irannic language Agon’s working understanding of Persian was no help. The Greek, presumably the company’s translator spoke, “There’s nothing disagreeable about your terms, but for the sake of knowing, what would you do if we said no?”
Agon smirked, “Capture Mons Regius, Jultand, and a few other key points along the trade routes around here, then effectively cut you out of the Northern European markets. Yes, it is possible, I’ve spent a few sleepless nights thinking out the logistics of it.”
The other side went back to talking amongst their selves. “Agon, that sounds rather Draconian.” Chlotharius said.
“Indeed, I always liked Draco myself.” Agon said, earning him some shocked expressions from the rest of the Hassian party.
The Company party stopped talking and their Greek member once again spoke, “We find your terms acceptable, we will now move on to getting it in clay.”
-Early June 68BCE, Jutland-
Rin Galeil almost fell over as his transport ship beached. After regaining his balance he ran to the bow to get a look. The land was densely forested, and he was relived to know that his choice to bring a minimalistic cavalry compliment hadn’t been wrong. He grabbed his Theurious (long ovular wooden shield used by the later Hellenic era Greeks) and unsheathed his Celtic long sword (which was superior in quality to both the array of Greek swords and the Roman Gladius which had been considered for the Hassian “Legionaries”). “Alright boys! Let’s get going!” He called out, then hoped over the side of the ship and into the waste deep water bellow. His men followed suit and splashed down behind him. As he and his men waded to shore more and more boats dropped off their loads of warriors.
The Hassian legionary was different in many ways from its Roman basis. Aside from the use of a Greek shield and a Celtic sword, Celtic style chainmail was used, there was no standard helmet (the men around him wore a mixture of Celtic, Illyrian, and Greek helmets), they still carried Greek style ash spears, they used a Celtic style of javelin, and most importantly they wore pants. Furthermore Legionary units were not the majority of the army, as Hoplite style units, Briton style units, and Illryian style units were still overwhelmingly present, and normally the army would have large cavalry and pike compliments (however those forces would likely only complicate fort construction).
Elsewhere, making the same wade to the shore was Kelly Romano and his staff of Centurions. “You see men, this is why we wear skirts.” Kelly said, “Pants get soaking wet, and then become rather uncomfortable.” His Centurions nodded and made jokes about the drenched barbarians.
The area chosen was excellent for a fort, it had a small natural harbour, a hill, and the nearby forest would provide wood for the fort’s walls. “This is going to be a lot of work…” Rin muttered and began shouting orders to his men.
-Mid June 68 BCE, Has council building office of Chlotharius Alban-
During the Iron Age, it required a lot of work, wealth, manpower, and warfare to be super power. On the other hand, it only required good leadership to play the role of a super power. The city of Has had a population much smaller than Massalia to the south yet it had gone out and brought a larger bit of land under its sway, Has was not as wealthy as Carthage yet it had taken on the role of providing for the Phoenician Colonies in Africa, Has did not have the military might of Rome yet it’s mission to Germania was every bit as daring as Pompey’s actions in Syria. As a result, any outsider would certainly believe Has to be a superpower by reputation alone. Alban considered this as he looked out his office window at the busy city markets bellow.
“Ahem.” A thickly accented voice called, Alban turned and saw the Han Merchant from the company meeting standing in his doorway, “You wanted to see someone from the Imperial embassy?”
“Yes, yes, I’m just curious about what’s on the other end of the trade line, so would you mind answering some questions for me Ms…?” It occurred to him that he had forgotten her name.
“Mi Hua.” She said. “Yes I can answer a few questions.”
“Didn’t you need a translator before?” Alban asked as he noticed the translator he had scheduled had only just arrived.
“We were speaking Scythian just to keep our discussion private. What sort of Merchant operating in Europe would I be if I couldn’t speak Greek?” She replied.
“Ok then,” he said as he motioned for the translator to leave. “What is your land called?”
“Our land is called China, and it is ruled by the Han Dynasty.” She replied. He knew that bit already, he just wanted to start with simpler question.
“Ok then, rough estimate, what is the population of China?” He asked. He did not know the answer to this question, but he had heard some simply absurd rumors.
“Well I haven’t bean there in over a decade, but I think it was 35 million the last I heard.” She replied.
“Impossible. In all of Rome there’s less than ten million!” Alban replied. 35 million inhabitants would make the Han Dynasty the most powerful nation to have ever existed.
“It’s natural to attribute supremacy to a faction like Rome. It’s conquered the homelands of most of the city’s inhabitants, it’s risen from very little and has destroyed every other power on the Mediterranean except Egypt, and surely it has a monopoly on Southern European trade, making it easily the most powerful faction that you are familiar with. However, just because it’s what you’re used to considering being a supreme unrivaled nation, does not actually mean it is.” She replied.
“Elaborate.” He said.
She sighed, “As a merchant I’ve gotten the chance to travel to many parts of the world. I’ve visited Roman areas, and I can see many admirable things in their civilization, and I’ve seen that there are a great many reasons why they dominate the Mediterranean world. That said there are many reasons why the Parthians rule the Iranian plateau, there are many reasons why the Xiongnu rule the eastern steppe, and there are many reasons why Has dominates the northern seas.” She paused, as if to think of what to say next, “There are a great number of reasons why all of the Far Eastern Orient kneels to bow before the Han dynasty of China.”
“You think Has is powerful?” He asked, and suppressed a smile. The illusion Has put on was powerful indeed.
“While you’re concept of Polis confuses me, you are certainly powerful relative to your surroundings.” She said.
“Well you’ll have to ask a Greek about the importance of the Polis, but I guess I have no more questions.” Alban said, and when she looked confused he clarified, “I’m from Belgica.”
-Mid June, 68 BCE, Off the northern coast of Jutland-
“Contact sighted off the bow!” An officer hollered. Ardghal rushed to the bow and looked out on the water, ahead there was a large mass of what Germanic style ships, arranged in what was unmistakably a battle formation.
“Bring the fleet to battle stations! I want the light ships to begin harassment operations, the ballista ships should open fire on the thickest part of the formation, and I want fire pot ships brought to the front of our formation.” At his words the drums and horns of the Hassian fleet rung out their orders.
“Sir the enemy has formed up into a V formation, we’ll be out flanked if we try to advance.” The officer stated.
“I’ve been patrolling these waters for a long time, no single German tribe could have this many ships, therefore this must be the combined fleet of some sort of large confederation.” Ardghal said, then looked at the northern edge of the V, “We hit one section really hard and the rest of the formation will fragment and retreat.” He gave his orders and watched as the fire ships swung around to port and charged the northernmost grouping of enemy ships, as they drew within throwing range a short missile exchange occurred, the Germans threw javelins, the Hassians threw pots of fish oil with burning covers at the enemy. As intended a massive inferno engulfed the enemy grouping, and the northern flank of the enemy formation began a hasty retreat. Seeing this, the southern flank also broke. Upon seeing his fire ships returning safely from the burning mess to the north Ardghal let out a sigh of relief. “Now if only my political opposition was here to view this.”
“They’d say you let them get away.” The officer replied, and Ardghal hung his head in exasperation.
-Mid June, 68 BCE, Office of Francois of Loire-
Ahumm-Hiram found himself in an unexpected situation, as an experienced merchant he had experienced harassment before, however this was quite a bit more than what he had ever previously experienced. “You will purchase five tons of Tin.” The man in the purple robe said calmly as his West African friend threw another bucket of water in Ahumm’s face.
“I’ll never be able to sell that much!” Ahumm exclaimed when he was done coughing up water.
The African stood directly infront of him, grabbed the back of the chair he was tied to, leaned forwards causing he chair to tilt back and spoke, “Listen little man! I know the roman numerals, so I know that one-” he pointed at him with the index finger of his free hand, “plus one-” he raised his middle finger, “equals five!” The then violently thrust the two raised fingers in front of Ahumm’s face, making quite a big deal out of how the two fingers made a V shape.
“W-well I can’t fault that logic,” Ahumm said then added, “but you know that this will crash the price of Tin back in Rome. Right?”
To his surprise, Francois, the purple robed runner of this business only laughed, “Why that is my very intent! No longer will roman parents have to worry about the fact that their children’s bowls are made with arsenic. What I am doing is accelerating the advancement of the human condition!”
“Really?” Was all Ahumm managed to say.
“No, not really.” Francois replied. “I just want to lower the prices there enough to start a tin buy frenzy. Then when all the mountains in Italy have been mined dry of the stuff, I’ll be able to dictate prices to them. I’m playing the long term game you see.”
“Well what do you plan to do while the prices shift back to the profitable side in Rome?” Ahumm asked.
“My company deals in iron and glass as well, we’ll get by, that and I have a plan to create a larger domestic need for tin.” Francois explained.
-meanwhile, at the Tavern-
Damianos was unveiling to the crowd of drunkards his new invention, “So, simple tin cylindrical container, wax seal over the hole,” he pulled out his knife and punctured the seal, “inside of it there’s ale! And it keeps it much fresher than some clay urn vase with a cork stuck in it!” The crowd roared with excitement.
-Back at the Office of Francois of Loire-
“So you see, we intent to sell them in crates of 8, 12, and in packs of 6 slightly taller ones.” The African summarized.
“Your marketing plan is genius!” Ahumm remarked.
“Good, now that you see things my way I think I’ll have to hire you.” Francois replied.
“What?!” Ahumm demanded, clearly confused.
“Amadou, take this man to middle management!” Francois ordered, and the African grabbed the back of the chair and dragged it, and Ahumm away.
“No! You can’t do this!” Ahumm cried as he was dragged away.
-Mid July, 68 BCE, Germania Magna, west flank of the Hassian line-
Being many miles from shore, and quite a far way east of Juteland, Leonas Anaruu was for all intensive purposes in an alien land. Being a native of Egypt Has had been a strange enough location, but he had gotten used to it. The towering trees and deep ravines of Germania were in a league all their own. Currently he found himself in a clearing, waiting with the rest of the army commanded by General Rin.
A casual glance down the ranks showed him something he didn’t expect to see, Centurion Severnus Primus riding down the line in his direction. The centurion stopped in front of commander Alcaeus Falco.
“Scouts have reported that the target is in the old wood, take your men and start some fires to smoke them out, if you can’t manage that then harass them and lure them out here. In the clearing they’ll be easy opponents for our formation.” Severnus commanded. Being a part of the mercenary unit lead by Alcaeus, Leonas obeyed commands, retrieved the flint from his bag, and followed his commander into the woods picking up dry tinder when he could.
The aforementioned target was some sort of violent tribe, which had being driving many other German peoples to the Baltic coats. As many tribes had agreed to leave the coast if the could be defeated, it seemed like knocking them off would be a quick way to make the coast more manageable. As the enemy encampment came into view, it quickly became apparent why these people so terrified the Germans. They stood completely still, bolt upright, in a large circle with the most well armed warriors on the outermost ring, their purple eyes glaring out on the forest. Alaeus whispered his commands to the nearest men, who passed them on until the man besides him whispered to Leonas, “we can’t sneak around them, light your fires now, but keep them small. We’ll get them to chase use, and hopefully the fire will for up into a nice big blaze by the time they’ve passed.
Leonas passed the message on and began preparing a small fire. They were making quite a bit of noise, but the warriors didn’t seem to notice.
Alaeus was the first to finish his fire, and has his eyes raised to follow the rising smoke he saw a large bird flying amongst the upper branches of the forrest. He tracked the creature’s movements, until in landed on a branch directly above him giving him a good look. Four hooves, and wings, the blue fur and multicolored mane were unusual, but otherwise this creature matched the description of the Greek’s Pegasus.
The Pegasus glared down upon the men, all of whom stared back at it. It gave a hiss and the circle of warriors moved. Not as a formation of men, but simultaneously they all broke out into a mad sprint towards the Alaeus and his small raiding force.
“At a certain point the Hassian historical record takes a turn to the absurd. The records of trade and expansion continue, but they are vastly overshadowed by reports of a long fierce war against “fantastical creatures”.[13] Why such obvious legends aren’t separated from the tablets containing the historical record is entirely unknown.[citation needed]”
-The text of a Wikipedia article on the records of Has
