Lun stood with the rest of the centurions of the 4th Cohort in the 14th Legion. The situation was tense, to put it mildly. Everyone knew why, but that didn't mean they weren't walking on eggshells to avoid the ire of their superiors.

After the 14th Legion had traveled close to six hundred miles and fought a battle to make it to the Triad, the legion needed some time to rest and resupply if they were going to be in anything close to fighting condition. When they finally started marching south with purpose, to reach Ironhold, they averaged about fifty miles a day, but that didn't last more than a week.

Not because they couldn't maintain the pace, but because after they left the Northern Province, it seemed that every petty noble took it upon themselves to hinder the 14th's advance in any way possible. The minor towns had their gates closed and placed guards to prevent the legion from easily marching through the fields surrounding them. And then there was the annoyance that the negotiations for purchasing food were overly lengthy and drawn out.

In the places between the towns and villages, it seemed that a storm had swept through the area. That was the only way to explain why the road had earthen berms five feet tall blocking the route, or why a half dozen trees had chopped themselves down and fallen onto it. Well, they chopped themselves down and then somehow rolled over the thirty yards of flat ground from the tree line to stack themselves on the causeway… Yeah, only a simpleton would believe such a tale when a particularly arrogant noble suggested it as an explanation.

The attempts to slow them were so blatant that no one was even pretending that it wasn't happening. It was just that no one knew exactly who was doing it, and City Lord Fridgia wasn't willing to spare the time to find them. Though the couple of times when the legion happened to come across some of the workers blocking the road early on in their journey, they were hanged as bandits. Not that it did more than make their harassers more careful.

What made it worse was that Lord Fridgia had no real authority, at least in the legal sense. A legion at his back effectively meant he could do anything, but with his territory destroyed and his people ravaged, now was not the time to go making enemies. Or so that was what Lun assumed was the reason behind Lord Fridgia not marching up to the local noble's house and tearing it down with those inside to set an example.

The minor inconveniences mounted, a couple of hours here and there every day, and what should have taken them a fortnight at a leisurely pace took them three weeks. And then they became trapped outside the walls of the Arch, the only bridge crossing the Rush south of the Triad and North of Olimpia.

Lun heard rumors of Legatus Kellaport attempting to secure enough barges to make the river crossing practical in a timely manner, but that obviously hadn't worked out yet. And he wasn't the only one meeting surprising resistance for such a simple matter. Every day since their arrival, Lord Fridgia had marched into the city, his face becoming more stony and stark with every uneventful trip. But everything changed this morning.

Last night, a messenger had staggered into camp. Word quickly spread of the man dripping with river water, his steps screaming exhaustion, but his unwavering determination driving him forward. What made it all the more notable was that his clothes bore the heraldry of the Fridgia Family, and as soon as he met the guards at the camp's edge, he demanded to be taken to the high lord immediately.

Within half an hour of the messenger's arrival, the high lord was galloping out of the camp in the dead of night and had entered the city. By noon, everyone in the legion had learned the contents of the messenger's report.

Apparently, the city blocking their path hadn't only stopped the legion from crossing, but had also denied a trio of Fridgian messengers for days as well. Not that it stopped there, as the civic guard had even prevented anyone with a ship from taking them across. Running out of options but knowing the 14th was just over the river, the leader decided to attempt the swim across the Rush to deliver his report. While simple and expected, the news was monumental to the legion. The Kin were advancing on Ironhold.

That was over a week ago, meaning the legion had no time to spare. Even Lun could calculate that at their best speed, the legion would take a week to reach the fortress city. That was assuming there were no more nobles that would stall them, which was quite an assumption, as they still had multiple days of travel to reach the switchbacks cut into the Steps. A notoriously narrow path that would act as a natural bottleneck.

With time frantically burning away, and the unspoken thought that they could already be too late hot in everyone's minds, people were on edge. Without the orders even being given, the campworkers had started breaking down the camp, and the legionaries were fully equipping themselves for battle. When no tribunes stopped them and instead told the workers to hurry up, the legionaries began gathering in their cohorts and half stood in formation as they silently glared at the city blocking their path.

The 14th legion might have survived a heroic journey, and in doing so, they escaped a trap with the better part of their strength still intact. What had to be mentioned in the same breath was that they also failed to protect Basetown, to defend their home, family, and friends when it mattered the most. It ate at everyone the entire way to the Triad, and the reality threatened to crush them with despair. When they learned that the survivors of the fallen were in Ironhold, everyone within the legion was determined to march there.

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Few as the survivors were said to be, everyone was hoping they would be the lucky ones who would have one of their family members still alive and waiting for them. A hope that was being chipped away at as the petty nobles harassed a legion they should have been aiding. But even if they were the last of their lines, they still wanted to man the walls of Ironhold, if only to fulfill their oaths.

The camp's mood only grew worse when Lord Fridgia returned, his face as dark as a storm front. Soon after, official orders came to prepare for battle and break camp. And now Lun was standing before his tribune, waiting to see what the high lord was planning to do with his legion.

"Your orders are simple. We will be marching through Arch. The 4th Cohort will be positioned behind the prime. Should the Archies do the smart thing and open the gates, we will march through without a second word. If they refuse, the gates will be broken open, and the Prime Cohort will continue on to secure a path to the bridge. You and your legionaries will secure the area around the gate until the legion marches through, whereupon you will follow up the rear. Is that understood?" While everything the tribune said was spoken aloud, it was also sent through a union to ensure that there was no room for a misunderstanding.

"Yes, Domine," all of the centurions mentally chorused, saluting with fists to chest.

"Good. Gather your men and form up outside the palisade in the second position for marching." With nothing more to say, the centurions turned and strode to their men. The tents in their section of camp were already taken down, and all of the legionaries of the 4th Cohort were milling about in groups fully equipped. Specifically, they were gathered in their centuries, waiting for a command they knew was coming.

"Third Century!" Lun barked twenty yards away from his men, causing all of them to snap to attention and turn to face him. "Form up for marching!"

"You heard the centurion!" parroted Optio Jankens, who was new to his position, but had grown comfortable in it over the march south.

Before Lun had covered the distance to take up his position at the head of the column, the men were standing with their spears up, shields out, and heads locked ahead. As soon as he was in range, Lun used some psy to form a telepathic tendril and formed a union with his century. "Okay, boys, we are marching into the city, whether they like it or not. If they decide to disagree, there could be combat, so stay on your toes. Forward march!"

Lun led his men a few steps forward before slowly turning the century in an arc. He would like to say that he was the first to start marching, but he wasn't. There were centurions whose men were closer to the meeting, so they had an unfair advantage, not that he was using that fact as an excuse.

Joining the stream of legionaries moving along the central passage through the camp, Lun guided his men past the palisade and to the left flank, joining the rest of the 4th cohort forming up. Glancing to his right across the dirt path leading into the camp was the Prime Cohort, already in evenly spaced ranks, ready and waiting.

While Lun could not see it, he knew that all around the palisade, the other cohorts of the legion were also forming up in the surrounding fields. Assuming Lun and his cohort were facing north, although he wasn't sure if that was actually true, the Prime and 4th cohorts would be the first to start marching, followed by those cohorts on the west and then the east flanks. If they were expecting a simple day of marching, the camp followers would then follow, guarded by the 8th cohort that would still be within the broken-down camp. At the very back would be the cohorts positioned on the southern side of the perimeter.

This had the potential to be as far from a simple day of marching as possible, so Lun didn't know what the precise order would be. Then again, he didn't need to know, and such thoughts were pointless, not that he had anything else to do at the moment.

Dropping the union, Centurion Lun stood in place, the sun beating down on him. It wasn't long before he started to sweat, and water bearers began coming by, topping off the legionaries' waterskins, which wasn't a good sign for how long they were going to stand in place. With nothing better to do, Lun started tracking the sun as it fell from the sky.

By the centurion's count, the legionaries had been standing in place and waiting for close to two hours, which was rather typical of the legion. Most of the men's fire had vanished under the sun's harsh caress, as all that was left of the inner fires were sweaty puddles. Or so it seemed.

When a pulse message rolled across the legion to begin marching, the determination flared with life once more. With the sound of drums that echoed over the surrounding fields, Lun soon saw the 1st Cohort of the 14th Legion advancing toward the western gates of Arch City. That remained the case until his own century fell in line with the rest of the cohort, sliding into place behind the prime.

For half an hour, Lun felt his body tense as the city walls grew taller, and the unknown fate they were rapidly approaching became all the more pressing. A pulse message to stop beat against Lun's mind, and the tension spiked.

"Open the gates and let my legion pass, or face my wrath!" Thundered Lord Fridgia from where he hung in the air above them, looking down on the city blocking his path.

"Augustas," sounded a weaker voice a moment later, that was so smooth it was slimy. "Let's be reasonable here. This situation is unprecedented. A northern legion coming south? Unheard of! To hastily take action would do a disservice to future generations. We must consider—

"Enough!" Barked Lord Fridgia. "You and your ilk have tested my patience beyond all reasonable bounds. It is time that you remember what it means to displease the north!"

"Wait!" Screamed the smooth-talking voice, but it was already too late. The oppressive summer heat, slowly cooking the world, vanished in an instant, replaced by frigid winter winds. Within seconds, a deep cracking sound of breaking ice could be heard, then seen, as it appeared that the entire river over a mile away had frozen over before lifting into the air.

The massive ice block hung in the air for a second, then it began to move toward the walls, quickly reaching the speed of an arrow in flight. Only able to stand in awe at the sight, the centurion could not look away from the display of raw power. Before he knew it, the cracking of stones filled the air a second before the ground shook from the colossal impact. Before the dust could settle or the bells in Lun's ears stop, Lord Fridgia's voice thundered again as he commanded, "Charge!"

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