Chapter 9

Devnum

It had taken almost two weeks following his meeting with Lurio for him to get to see the Empress. After her return from Factorium, there had been some kind of crisis in Caledonia that she had to deal with in person, all the time they were getting closer and closer to the day he needed to be underway, still without getting the supplies he needed for the expedition.

Now that he was here, though, he almost wanted to turn around and go back to his ships. The last time he’d dealt directly with her, she was just Lucilla, the Emperor’s daughter, and they’d met on his turf, at the docks, surrounded by swearing workmen and salt air. Now she was the Empress, and he was walking through halls surrounded by ornate tapestries and marble statues. He was a simple sailor at heart, and all this finery and politics seemed designed to unnerve him.

The point was made even clearer when he was escorted into the Empress’s audience chamber, where she sat on a gilded throne atop a raised dais, guards armed with rifles and gladii flanking the room, their eyes following him as he walked. She wasn’t alone, either. Ramirus, the Imperial Spymaster, was there as well, standing next to the throne, his hawk-like gaze boring into Valdar.

“I understand you have something urgent that needs addressing,” the Empress said.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The fleet stands ready for our mission to the Middle Sea. However...” he said and then hesitated, gathering his courage. “Forgive my bluntness, but we have not been allocated sufficient supplies to carry out your wishes. I’ve spoken to Lurio, who made it clear that we’ve been given everything that is available and that there are no options for additional support. While I understand there are many factors that have to be considered where the supplies are concerned, I do not have enough gunpowder to carry out your orders, and I do not want to take my ships into the Middle Sea, far from support, and have them destroyed. The resources already put into these ships are vast, and we cannot throw them away simply because a clerk was too tight-fisted to properly outfit them.”

Valdar swallowed; worried that he might have been a little too blunt. He knew she wasn’t like other potentates he’d addressed before, apt to kill the messenger, but a monarch was a monarch, and they could be temperamental.

Lucilla frowned, but her tone remained level in spite of his directness, “Supplies are short for everyone, Admiral. Winter and the Carthaginians have disrupted our supply lines, and we’ve already had several notable losses on the continent even before this year’s campaign season has begun.”

Valdar nodded and said, “I understand, Your Highness. But controlling the Middle Sea is vital to cut off Carthaginian reinforcements. I’m telling you now, I cannot do that with the supplies I’ve been given.”

Ramirus spoke up and said, “Reallocating supplies weakens land forces, Admiral. Perhaps a delay...”

“Each day we delay is another day for Carthage to strengthen their position!” Valdar insisted. “Once we control the sea, coastal raids can keep their armies in check. Until then, more of their men will pour onto the continent.”

Lucilla held up a hand, stopping Ramirus from responding, and asked, “And is gunpowder the only thing you’re requesting?”

“No, Your Majesty. Once we start sailing, some private shipping will need to be appropriated to support my men and resupply us as we conduct operations. There will be no friendly ports nearby to rely on, at least not until the Consul achieves his goal and takes a port on the Middle Sea. I’ve started speaking to the captains, but they are understandably reticent. Without an imperial decree, I’m not sure we’ll have enough ships to keep the fleet supplied, especially since the supply ships we do have are currently being held here to ferry supplies to Germania and Port Invictus.”

Lucilla tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the admiral’s words. “The shipmasters have already lodged several complaints about how often we’ve pressed their vessels into imperial service, even with the payments they receive in compensation. And aside from their displeasure, the imperial treasury is not infinite, and supplying both land and naval forces is already straining our reserves.”

“I understand their complaints, and even sympathize with them. I was a merchant myself, not that long ago, Your Majesty. But as long as the Carthaginians remain a threat, we face more dire concerns. They will find their businesses disrupted significantly more if we lose. The treasury, too, will find itself in far worse straits if the enemy manages to land soldiers on our shores again.”

He stepped forward, hands spread imploringly, “Without naval dominance, the Carthaginians can continue ferrying endless reinforcements across the Middle Sea, and our forces on the continent will be swallowed by the sheer number of troops sent against them. Without my fleet to disrupt their supply lines and raid their coasts, our foothold on the continent may collapse.”

Before she could respond, Ramirus cleared his throat, his expression grim. “Your Majesty, I’ve just received concerning news. My agents have reported signs of massive Carthaginian troop movements, and it is possible that a new, larger army has landed at a port in Gaul. Nothing is confirmed yet, which is why I was waiting to report it, but the admiral’s warning may be moot. Our estimates indicate that it’s the largest force we’ve seen yet, over two hundred and fifty thousand men strong, compared to our twenty-five thousand currently in service.”

“How sure are you of those numbers?” Lucilla asked.

“As I said, Empress, we haven’t confirmed it yet, and some may be double counting, as the reports are from different agents and not all of the forces are in one place. It seems as if the commander has split his forces, sending some north to face the Consul and some to Hispania. What we know for sure is that there has been a constant procession of ships across the Middle Sea, delivering men and supplies to their port in Gaul this winter.”

“Which is why my mission is so important,” Valdar said. “If we don’t cut off the flow of reinforcements, we will never hold the continent. We pushed them off Britain because we blocked their fleet from reinforcing Londinium before it fell. If we hadn’t, we would still be fighting here, on this island, against wave after wave of men crashing into us. The Carthaginians don’t consider most of their soldiers to even be people. They’re just slaves to them. And their deaths are nothing to them but offerings to their god. There is no amount of losses they aren’t willing to take, which means we can’t just outfight them. We have to cut them off, which is what I’m trying to do. And what I can’t do if I don’t get the gunpowder I need.”

Lucilla drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne as she weighed Valdar’s request. She didn’t reply right away, but he could see the calculations churning behind her eyes as she examined every angle. Her gaze flicked to Ramirus, and he gave a slight nod. At least he seemed convinced, despite arguing against Valdar earlier.

In the end, there was only one choice.

“Very well, Admiral. You have convinced me. I will authorize Lurio to release the supplies you need, and I will urge Hortensius to increase production as much as possible, although until the nitrate pits in Ériu begin producing, I’m afraid we might already be at our max capacity on gunpowder production. As for the transport ships, I will issue the orders for their appropriation today.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Valdar said, bowing low.

“Now that you have what you need, don’t fail us. Stop their shipping whatever the cost.”

Germania, North of the Rhine

Ky looked through the tree line at the distant Carthaginian supply depot. The small wooden fort stood silently in the wide clearing, bathed in moonlight. They’d received word of these small forts springing up near the Rhine in a shallow arc roughly across from the main territory of his largest allies and the only area they had successfully freed entirely from the Carthaginians. When put together with the army that had recently marched up from southern Gaul, it wasn’t hard to figure out what the Carthaginians were doing.

So far, the enemy had been spread out, trying to counter the raids and uprisings happening across Germania, but they were gearing up for a larger, more concentrated push against any villages they could get to. Already, thousands of civilians had been marched south, many presumably conscripted into their forces and sent to Greece or Asia Minor to free up armies there to come west.

The hit-and-run raids by Ky’s forces had done well, and the tribes not being folded into the legions had taken to them with enthusiasm, but they didn’t have the manpower to face a concentrated push. Muskets could only go so far, especially when used the way most of the tribes preferred.

He’d begun receiving rifles for his legions, but he only had two full legions armed with rifles. That should still be enough to take on the Carthaginians, but so far the enemy hadn’t been obliging him. Instead of starting a headlong attack, like they’d done before, the enemy was pushing their armies around his edges, cutting off supply lines and burning out or displacing anyone who might ally with the Britannians.

The larger Carthaginian armies were an issue when dealt with head-on, but they were just as much of a problem when spread out. Maybe even more so. Ky had managed to counter their size difference with technological force multipliers, but that only worked in head-on conflicts. He did not have enough men to meet them in all of the places the Carthaginians were attacking, especially since he couldn’t afford to spread his own forces out, which would invite a counterstrike against those Ky left behind.

He also couldn’t ignore the hits on his allies. Already the tribes had started expressing their dissatisfaction at their people being slaughtered or shipped south. The raids on supply lines had been helping slow the Carthaginians, but they needed to do more, which is why Ky found himself and his small band of Germanic tribesmen so deep in Carthaginian-held territory. If he was going to slow down the Carthaginian units roaming Germania, he had to do more than take wagon trains, and this supply depot was the first step.

The Carthaginians could probably replace these supplies, but it would take time, and it was the beginning of the planting season, which meant there wasn’t a lot for their people to steal or forage. The more he choked off their supply, the more they had to pull back units or risk losing them.

Still, it wasn’t going to be an easy task. He had two dozen Germans against a garrison of fifty-plus inside the small, hastily built wooden fort. Going over the wall, even of a lightly defended fortification like this, would be costly, so Ky waited and watched. A scout had reported a wagon train in the area, and based on earlier activity, Ky was pretty sure it was heading this way.

The hardest part was keeping Wulfram and his men holding in place just watching Carthaginians on the parapets and doing nothing. They only calmed down when the four horse-drawn carts loaded with supplies came rumbling down the wagon trail out of the forest and into view. This deep in Carthaginian territory, there were only a handful of guards, so it didn’t raise any concerns as far as manpower went. It did, on the other hand, solve one big problem.

“We should move,” Wulfram said over Ky’s shoulder.

“Not yet,” Ky said, not looking back. “We need the gate open.”

“They will just close it before we close the distance.”