Chapter 125: Augusta Praetoria

January 5, 222 AD, Augusta Praetoria (The Italian Alps).

On the foothills of the Great St. Bernard Pass, an army composed of thousands of *Custodes* traversed the snow-covered terrain in two columns.

Every single infantryman looked utterly exhausted and fed up after a week of continuous travel in this harsh environment.

However, they persisted because their primary objective was finally within sight...

Commander Valerius, positioned in the middle of the infantry formation, squinted ahead at the mountain-fortress of Augusta Praetoria.

After carefully inspecting the city for a while, he noticed that the primary limestone city wall was not too different from the one he had shattered in Genava.

The only distinct difference was that this city looked a little smaller than the Gallic stronghold.

Ultimately, this was a massive advantage for him, since it confirmed that there would not be too much localized resistance.

The city only needed to serve as a secure transit station or a vital logistics supply point for their eventual attack on the most crucial location in the region: the sprawling plains of the Italian peninsula.

For this specific purpose, the place was perfect.

Sensing that they were within a lethal distance from the enemy battlements, Valerius immediately gave the order to halt and set up the canvas tents, preparing for a prolonged siege to breach the city.

"Halt!"

The torsion grenade-throwers were quickly assembled by the Syndicate artillerymen and immediately set up in their respective firing positions.

Hundreds of sandbags were well placed in front of these timber machines to protect the delicate torsion ropes from enemy arrows or, in rare cases, counter-artillery ballista bolts.

One of the greatest advantages of this launcher is that it does not need to have a direct line of sight to the target.

Measuring the altitude, wind resistance, and parabolic trajectory correctly could do the job just as well.

Seeing that everything was firmly set up and the artillerymen were waiting to initiate the bombardment, Valerius did not immediately start the slaughter.

Instead, he initiated the standard, routine diplomatic procedure established by the Forge Master.

Although Valerius did not have much hope for its success, he sent a trusted Gallic auxiliary to convince the opponent to concede defeat nonetheless.

Five hundred yards away...

Rows and rows of armed Roman auxiliary soldiers stood on the city wall, gripping their *pila*, ready to take on the enemy at any time.

Among these tense warriors, there were four figures who looked different, their attire comprised of colorful tunics, and their fingers adorned with various gold signet rings.

It could be easily concluded that these four were the patrician magistrates of the city...

The Roman soldiers, seeing these attackers approaching within lethal range, were just about to pull their bowstrings and fire their iron-tipped arrows.

However, before they could do so,

"Wait!"

A loud shout rang out from one of the four patrician magistrates, which instantly stopped the deadly barrage of arrows that was about to be unleashed.

With his shout, the Roman archers finally refrained from acting. However, unknown to the archers, had they indeed killed the diplomatic messenger, the wrath of Commander Valerius would have fallen upon them in a matter of seconds, causing vastly more casualties than militarily necessary.

Perhaps the magistrate who shouted to stop the attack inadvertently saved the lives of the soldiers of the garrison.

As for the reaction of the messenger...

*Phew.*

"Thank the gods," he muttered in a light, almost inaudible voice.

As he witnessed the Roman soldiers slowly putting down their drawn bows, a wave of relief washed over his chest. Despite his bravery and his absolute readiness to die, having chosen the dangerous job as a frontline messenger, he still, at the end of the day, greatly preferred to remain alive.

Facing the curious eyes of the four Roman magistrates peering over the parapet, the messenger of the Syndicate no longer hesitated and boldly spoke out the message he was meant to deliver.

"Greetings to the city of Augusta Praetoria and its citizens. The sovereign Forge Master of the Syndicate, Lucius Cassius, has decided to conquer the Roman Senate. Since the Italian Alps are currently under the corrupt reign of the Senate, the Forge Master has waged a just, moral war on this region for the absolute independence of the plebeians from the brutal, conscripting reign of the patricians."

The messenger paused to take a deep breather in the mountain air, while the four magistrates were taken aback, as they had no clue that this rebel faction possessed the audacity to conquer the whole of the Roman Empire, which, according to their aristocratic worldview, was the strongest, most eternal nation in the world.

They looked at each other with deep confusion, doubt, and even creeping nervousness.

Having the military qualification to compete and wrestle with such a behemoth like Rome scared them quite a lot and made them skeptical.

However, they remained silent and continued to listen...

The messenger continued, "We have already decisively captured the city of Lugdunum, the city of Massilia, the city of Vienna, and the fortress of Genava. So, please, at the strict behest of the Forge Master and Commander Valerius, who is currently commanding this massive army you see before you. Please accept defeat and concede total control of the city. In exchange, not a single plebeian in the city will be harmed, and all of the citizens of the city will be seamlessly converted into protected citizens of the Syndicate." The messenger’s face was expectant. "Treated exactly like one of us," he added.

With that declaration, the messenger waited for the magistrates’ reply.

The four patricians, each representing a minor branch of the powerful Julii and Fabii houses, withdrew from the edge of the city wall and quickly began to deliberate on their next course of action.

The senior magistrate of the Fabii branch said, "What do you all think? Do you truly believe that Gallic peasant is telling the truth?"

The magistrate of the Julii replied, "It might be true. Have you noticed how, for the last several weeks, merchant caravans from the Gallic lowlands have stopped coming to our city? We initially thought this might be due to some early winter avalanches in the passes, but it looks like what the man in front of our city wall is claiming could be true."

A younger magistrate asked with a distinct hint of panic on his face, "Then what do you think we should do? They possess significantly more infantry than us. Just from a single, cursory glance, it can be seen that they have more than ten thousand armored soldiers; we barely have five thousand auxiliaries. The only advantage we have against them is this stone wall. Considering this reality, can we actually resist their siege?"

This was the primary worry of all the magistrates as they fell into deep thought...