Captured by the Picts (my version)

The arrow flew from his bow, straight into the the side of the biggest of the Picts's heads. He knew Picts respected strength, and so the biggest would probably be their leader... and a lucky shot was all that was needed to start the battle. But as the rest of the Centuria led the charge, he knew it was too late for whoever the woman had been.

But, still, let's stop here for a second, and retreat. Back into the Sailor's Den, not long after the Pitt had ended. It is a dark night, that's for sure, and dark nights are usually special in the capitol of Aquilonia. They tell tales, they hold secrets, and they carry dangers... and not necessarily in that order. Sepherim was walking towards the Centuria's office in the city, still a bit happy from all the soft beer Medeia had prepared for him during the fighting. And then, coming out from one of the stone doorways, came a man in black heavy armor, a long sword on his side, and disdain in his eyes.

-You are Sepherim, of the Centuria Obitus- it should have been a question, but certainly didn't sound as one.

-Yes... indeed, I am. You are... one of the Black Dragons, no?- Sepherim's shyness came to the surface.

-Aquilus waits for you. Follow me.-

That damned Black Dragon must have been up to something, there was no doubt of that. He always was. But if the Centuria was to remain out of the dark pools of Aquilonian politics, he better obey. That was what he hated the most about the whole situation. But he followed after the silent elite soldier, deep into the streets of the city, to one small alley. Where Aquilus was waiting for him.

-It is good to see you Sepherim- he said, with an acid tone-. Have you heard about Geonsar and the western village's current situation.-

The ranger shook his head: to be honest, he didn't feel much like speaking to the man.

-Well, then you should go to the village of Lucus Augusti, I'm sure you will find a nice contract there. Take a few of your men with you... several few, now that I remember how pathetic they are. I'm sure you'll be able to finish what a pathetic unit didn't.-

-You are sending us to fight your own battles again, Aquilus?- irony was in the rangers voice, but hatred was certainly stronger. Many had died, and still the Black Dragon wouldn't let go.

-Oh, yes, there is still much to fuck here and many gold to earn. Certainly much better than risking my important life in a battle somewhere lost in the west. There is no glory or power to be made there. So go, at least smile, Picts are your target. Don't say I'm not a good man.-

Picts! After the battle with them several months ago, Sepherim had both secretly admired, feared and hated them. He still didn't understand why they had let them live, butb a revenge was always welcome. In any case, the discussion was over, Aquilus and his man were walking away with sarcasm drawn in their lips.

Lets advance a few days now, shall we? The Centuria gathered a dozen men, and with both cohorts ready, marched west. They did get a low-paid contract in Laetia Augusti, a much smaller place that such a grand name deserved. Yet, some silver coins for each of them would be a nice change, as usually Aquilus didn't want them to have any money. It would help build the city, that was for sure.

And so they marched to the wide forests, west of the city. There were many uncharted lands to explore there, many things to watch and dangers to keep. And yet, they were too many for most of the forest's dwellers to attack them.

When nights came, Cytheris, Boriel and him gathered around the campfire to prepare the battleplans. They knew the Picts' tactics, and how they organized their villages and camps... a knowledge that had been paid in their own blood. But, this time, it would be paid in Pict lives, there was no doubt about that.

A few days later they found a trail. A couple small figures, maybe two women, or weak men, that walked together for some time. It was at least two days old, but it could well be the marking of Pict hunters or explorers. Certainly, it was worth following to the source. And so they did, indeed, among the foliage and trees, they walked the path the others had made north. At some point it looked like they had disagreed, and then one of the traces dissapeared and the other became heavier. A fight, and one of them had charged the other on his shoulders. But not long, certainly, before more foots appeared: stronger, heavier marks. The enemy. Tracing them back to the source was not difficult... and blood was to be spilled.

So then, lets return to the beginning, shall we? The Centuria was ready, and they had just seen the woman's sacrifice when the first arrow flew and downed the biggest Pict. As one, Boriel's Cohort charged forward, backed with the strenght and magic of Isaias'. Picts were caught off guard... which is logical, as their perimeter watchers had been taken down previously in silence, with veiled daggers and unseen arrows.

The battle advanced quickly, with their leader down the enemy was disorganized and in disarray. Several tried to flee to the wilderness just to be downed. Others fought alone, or in small groups, surrounded by the well organized Cohorts. Even though the Picts were more, they were no match for the Centuria's training, the training of a true Aquilonian Legion, forged in many fires since then.

But the Picts fight hard, with a savagery and power unknown to many civilized armies, and several Frateres were hurt by their strong attacks. Thankfully, Cytheris was ready to bring Mitra's healing on them before it was too late, and so they could push forward without fear. In case any was left in them in any case. And then, a voice startled Sepherim, right after shooting one of his arrows. There should be no one left alive behind him. But there was, the woman in the pole, her face and body damaged terribly by a severe beating, was still breathing surprisingly.

-R... release me please- barely came out of her throat.

Sepherim focused on her, her good aquilonian seemed strange in this western land, which had much more of a closed accent. He was drawing his dagger to free her when his mind finally understood the destroyed face he had before him.

-Milika?- Against what was usual in him, his voice didn't tremble a bit. Soror Cytheris said that it was his mask as a Triumviro that gave him confidence.

The story, from there on, has already been told. They freed her, and they journeyed back together from there to Laetia Augusta. They burned the corpses so they wouldn't spread diseases, and after Cytheris healed the poor woman's wounds, conversation was fluid... even if Sepherim's shyness returned soon after the battle finished. Yet, the full of the Centuria treated their guest with the proper respect, and even though Thanatoss thought a couple times about asking for Milika's services, even he decided in the end that it was not the time for it.