Chapter 313
Time passed swiftly.
Two years passed, and even as another year drew to a close, war still had not broken out.
To an unknowing observer, it might have seemed like an era of peace, but beneath the surface, all preparations were already complete.
The chaos in Satavahana grew worse by the day.
The conflict sparked two years ago gradually morphed into a civil war, ultimately boiling over into armed clashes.
The vast country was engulfed in the flames of war.
The previous king's death had lit the fuse of the civil war.
Prince Swati claimed he was the sole legitimate heir and declared his ascension as the Samrat of Satavahana.
The opposing faction naturally raised their banners in open rebellion.
"How could we ever serve a man as Samrat who ruined the nation's future with his flawed judgment!"
Their claims carried clear justification.
Rumors also spread that Rome would never permit Prince Swati's rule.
But the prince was not one to give up.
Swati mobilized the private forces he had cultivated and moved to seize the capital.
The opposing faction, knowing this in advance, immediately launched a counterattack.
As a result, a massive urban battle erupted right in the heart of the capital, with tens of thousands of soldiers clashing in the streets.
Swati's forces could not secure a victory.
The momentum had already shifted to the opposing faction, and he was not particularly gifted in military command.
Continuously pushed back until he was driven to the west, he seemed to have no future left.
Even after scraping together every last soldier, the disparity in military strength had already widened to worse than seven to three.
The situation was utterly desperate.
Swati sensed his impending defeat.
Having started a civil war, his chances of keeping his life were slim even if he surrendered.
The only ends left for him were execution for treason, or assassination by blade or poison in some remote backwater.
Now that things had come to this, his only remaining option was to pray for a miracle and wage one final battle.
It was highly questionable whether his soldiers would even follow him, but he had no other recourse.
But just as he was about to abandon all hope and fight to the bitter end—
An unexpected lifeline descended from the heavens.
A Roman envoy reached out to him through the North India Company.
The proposal from the woman calling herself Marcus's successor was concise.
"Pledge your loyalty to Rome, and we shall make you king. Do so, and we will guarantee both your safety and your autonomy."
A year ago, he wouldn't have even glanced at such a proposal.
Swati despised Rome.
Whose fault was it that he was in this miserable state to begin with? How dare they come to him with this offer now?
Yet, Swati could not bring himself to tear up the Roman letter.
In stark contrast to his inner feelings, he actually sent a reply requesting more detailed conditions.
While his emotions raged, his rational mind was already hunting for reasons to accept Sophia's offer.
If he lost this civil war, he wouldn't be the only one to die; all the subordinates who had trusted and followed him would be executed as well.
As the one carrying the weight of so many lives, shouldn't he prioritize the safety of his men?
It wasn't just the throne he was after anymore.
Besides, the sender of the letter was Marcus's successor, not Marcus himself.
He held a bitter grudge against Marcus, but there was no reason to turn hostile against his successor as well, was there?
Through endless rationalizations like these, he eventually accepted the proposal.
Swearing loyalty was the ultimate humiliation, but if he could seize the throne simply by bending the knee once, there was no more profitable deal in the world.
If things continued as they were, they would all die anyway.
In politics, there were no eternal enemies and no eternal allies.
Swati squeezed his eyes shut and decided to surrender himself to the currents flowing around him.
The moment his response was delivered, Rome issued an official declaration under the pretext of mediating the civil war.
"The unrest unfolding in Satavahana threatens the safety of Roman merchants and citizens residing there. If the armed conflict does not cease immediately, Rome will be forced to dispatch its legions to protect its people."
Up to this point, the declaration was exactly what the opposing faction had expected, but what followed was something no one could have imagined.
"It is only logical that Prince Swati, who holds true legitimacy, ascends as the king of Satavahana. We can find no reason or justification to oppose this."
A massive crack formed in the momentum that had been overwhelmingly favoring the anti-Swati faction.
Those who had proclaimed themselves the pro-Roman faction were completely lost, unsure of what to do now that Rome was blatantly backing Swati.
They hurriedly attempted to negotiate with Rome, but Rome's demands were utterly unacceptable to them.
Acknowledge Prince Swati's authority and restore his complete autonomy?
It sounded nice in theory.
But if Swati became the Samrat, would he really spare the opponents who had driven him to the brink?
With Rome backing him, it was painfully obvious how he would wield his newfound power.
This dynamic was highly advantageous for Rome as well.
Because Swati's inner circle was extremely small, it would be impossible for him to fill every corner of the nation's administration with his own loyalists.
Naturally, Rome's influence would inevitably seep in.
The self-proclaimed pro-Roman faction could easily guess why Rome was acting this way.
It was glaringly obvious that Rome planned to reduce Satavahana to a mere vassal state this time around.
In the blink of an eye, the self-proclaimed pro-Roman faction morphed into the anti-Roman faction.
Conversely, Swati, once the vanguard of the anti-Roman faction, swiftly reinvented himself as the flagbearer of the pro-Roman faction.
This absurd twist of fate meant only one thing.
The time for war was imminent.
※※※
Three months after Swati threw in his lot with Rome.
His army welcomed an overwhelming number of legions at the port.
Eight legions had arrived to support Swati, who had been publicly declared a friend of Rome.
Their numbers reached a staggering 50,000 men.
Combined with the 30,000 soldiers Swati led, their total military strength approached 80,000.
The enemy forces numbered nearly 100,000, but the morale of Swati's army pierced the heavens.
The sheer terror of the Roman legions had already been thoroughly proven in the previous war.
Even without the aid of Swati's army, 50,000 Roman troops could easily crush 100,000 enemies.
As enemies, they had been the target of immense hatred, but as allies, nothing could be more reassuring.
Swati personally entered the supreme commander's tent to express his gratitude.
"I thank you for your profound generosity in supporting a man who has made such grave mistakes in the past. From this day forward, Satavahana shall serve as a true ally to Rome, and we will do everything in our power to repay your trust."
"If one remains buried in the past, neither a person nor a nation can progress. Going forward, let us look to the future and strive to build a constructive relationship."
Despite the completely natural way she spoke down to him, Swati didn't even flinch.
He discreetly raised his head and looked forward, his eyes landing on a young woman who had only just shed the vestiges of girlhood.
Beside her sat a young man of a similar age, and flanking them were other youths who didn't look much older.
The two seated individuals were Marcus's children: Sophia and Trajan.
The two standing beside them were Octavian and Agrippa.
'Does Rome view this war as nothing more than a training ground to feed experience to its heirs?'
Just how confident were they to send out every single one of Marcus's precious direct descendants?
Swati's assumption was half right, and half wrong.
Marcus certainly wanted his children to gain military experience, but he had one other goal in mind.
As Marcus's children, Sophia and Trajan bore the duty of establishing a war record that would not bring shame to his name.
Of course, war always came with unexpected dangers and volatile variables.
Therefore, the Roman army had prepared safety measures to ensure the commanders could be safely evacuated in the event of an unforeseen disaster.
The nominal supreme commander was Sophia, but the actual field command of the legions she led fell to Agrippa.
Trajan, too, had Surenas watching his back, ready to clean up any mistakes he might make.
Surenas was not present at this meeting, but if an unexpected crisis broke out, he would assume supreme command of the legions.
Octavian was of no real use in a war, of course, but he had tagged along to handle the postwar administration.
Achilles, having just graduated from the military academy, had been granted command of a single legion as requested beforehand, and he was quietly observing the meeting from the corner.
The thought naturally crossed Swati's mind that in this battle, he might just witness the true caliber of the generation that would lead Rome into the future.
"Now then, shall we begin the proceedings?"
Sophia's solemn voice reached the ears of Swati, who had been blankly surveying the room.
In reality, it was a fleeting moment of just a few seconds, but to Swati, it felt as long as an eternity.
"I believe you were supposed to pledge your loyalty?"
Prompted by Trajan's quiet urging, Swati slowly stepped up to Sophia.
It was a humiliation unparalleled in history, yet it was an unavoidable formality.
The future king of Satavahana pledging his loyalty before the future ruler of Rome.
If this absolute hierarchy was not established, Rome would never offer him their aid.
Honestly, Rome was already showing him immense consideration by not forcing him to perform this ritual in front of the entire army.
Swati squeezed his eyes shut and dropped to his knees.
"I, Swati, prince of Satavahana, pledge... my unwavering respect and loyalty to the great Augustus Marcus and his chosen heir."
"A wise decision. Under our rule, you and the people who follow you shall enjoy enduring peace and prosperity. As the representative of the great Augustus, I swear this."
"...May I trust that your promise to guarantee my autonomy remains valid?"
"Of course. Satavahana is your nation. Rule it as you see fit. However, you must keep in mind that if you ever act against Rome's national interests, we will have no choice but to sanction you."
"Naturally. I will never do anything to harm Rome."
Swati desperately swallowed his overwhelming humiliation and composed himself.
Exchanging a fleeting moment of pride for absolute power was a cheap price to pay.
Even if Rome had gotten what they wanted out of this deal, the exact same held true for him.
He hadn't taken a one-sided loss.
Just as Rome was using him, he only needed to use Rome in return.
From now on, that was the mindset he had to carry into his rule.
If he let momentary desires or hot-blooded impulses dictate his judgment as he had in the past, the only thing waiting for him would be utter ruin.
"Well then..."
Trajan smoothly rose to his feet.
The moment he spoke, Agrippa unrolled a massive map across the table.
"We completed our scouting the moment we arrived. The enemy hasn't divided their forces; they've massed their entire 100,000-strong army in a single location. They are likely planning for a pitched battle."
"They're attempting another pitched battle against us?"
"They likely judged that if they broke into smaller skirmishes, they would have no way to deal with our Aquilanus. It isn't a completely flawed line of thought."
Satavahana had already tasted the devastating power of Rome's absolute finest—their heavy cavalry clad in Plate Armor.
Naturally, they couldn't have failed to prepare countermeasures.
Swati nodded and carefully offered his insight.
"Satavahana has spent a long time desperately searching for a way to halt the breaking power of your cavalry. Just as our war elephants failed to pose a major threat to the Roman army, we had to devise a way to survive the devastating impact of Rome's main forces."
"And did they come up with anything good?"
"First, the conclusion was that there is absolutely no chance of victory in an even-numbered frontal clash. Ideas were raised about setting up obstacles or scattering iron spikes in the vanguard to stop the cavalry charge, but those can simply be bypassed, so they aren't fundamental solutions. The tacticians believe it is realistically impossible to neutralize the heavy cavalry without suffering casualties. The plan is to pack the soldiers into the tightest possible formation to bleed away the cavalry's momentum, and while the front line is being pierced, they will attack from the flanks to force the riders off their horses. Or, they might deploy shield-bearing spearmen in a hedgehog formation to completely deny any breakthrough... I understand this tactic is also widely used in the Western regions."
"So in the end, their entire strategy relies on clumping up as tightly as possible to avoid being swallowed by the cavalry."
Swati couldn't deny Agrippa's concise summary.
Yet, despite hearing that their primary force had been so thoroughly analyzed, neither Agrippa nor Trajan showed much of a reaction.
Was it out of absolute confidence that mere tight formations couldn't stop their cavalry?
No, it felt a little different from that.
Trajan was even sporting a faint smile.
"If the enemies are going to group up on their own, our accuracy will skyrocket. It's the absolute perfect environment."
"Indeed. We'll be able to secure spectacular results in their very first real combat. Agrippa, are the men fully prepared?"
"Of course. This may be their first real battlefield, but they are elites who have run through these drills dozens of times."
"Excellent. I look forward to it, then. Prince Swati?"
"Ah, yes."
Catching Sophia's gaze, Swati straightened his posture and squared his shoulders.
"Focus your efforts on managing any of your soldiers who panic and try to flee. All you need to do is attack on our signal, and your role will be complete."
"Ah, yes. You want us to attack the fleeing enemy soldiers."
"No, not that..."
Sophia leaned forward over the table and added one final clarification.
"I'm telling you to keep a tight leash on your own men, so they aren't startled into running away."