章節 52: Pecos Colony I
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POV of Sheila
Pecos Colony, my home, stands as a reminder of our people's roots, of the sacrifices and hardships our ancestors endured to carve out a future. They left behind the uncertain security of the Republic of Rio Grande when the land began to dry up and resources became scarce, abandoning cities and settlements. The journey was hard, but our people survived, resilient as ever, driven by the hope of finding something better.
Here, in the lands of Pecos, life isn't easy either, but we've made these plains our own. The herds we tend, the same ones our past generations raised with such effort, have given us a wealth our ancestors could never have imagined. Meat and milk, coveted by those who can afford them, have made our colony a key trading center in the region. However, our strength doesn't just come from the animals we care for, but from the nature of our people themselves: cunning, swift, always ready to adapt. We know how to move when the moment calls for it, which has allowed us to survive and thrive in a world where others haven't.
But with wealth comes greed, and shadows stretch across the horizon. Trade has attracted mercenaries and raiders alike, drawn to our goods. Rumors of organized bands planning to ambush our shipments never stop. And while we've defended our roads before, the threats are multiplying.
In Pecos Colony, we had learned to live on the move, always following our herds and building temporary settlements where we could trade our wealth for other supplies. The few fixed trading posts we had were desert refuges, places where the brahmin's meat and milk allowed us to prosper. If one of those posts was raided, it was just a temporary blow; we rebuilt it quickly and moved on. That was our life, until the Legion arrived.
The Legion's movement under Paullus marked a turning point. Up until then, we had dealt with bandits and raiders, but Paullus was different. He wasn't just another leader; he was a beast, cruel and disciplined, moving with the weight of an unstoppable horde. To the north and south, in New Mexico and beyond, he left behind ravaged towns, chained slaves, and ashes in the wind. Despite being defeated by the Sundogs and later by the Republic of Rio Grande, they never managed to kill him. He stayed alive, like a persistent shadow, raiding, burning, and enslaving in the name of Caesar, a leader whose name was starting to echo as a distant but real threat.
With each raid by Paullus, more of our towns were reduced to ashes. Families lost their herds, their livelihoods, and fear began to spread among us. However, amidst the despair, resistance blossomed. We used our earnings to acquire better weapons, and the herds that were once our sustenance now gave us the opportunity to defend ourselves. Little by little, our tribes and towns stopped being easy prey. Paullus found more and more resistance, and his attacks on our lands became less frequent.
But even when it seemed like we might weather the storm, the real monster appeared. Lanius. Paullus' successor arrived with an even greater fury. This new leader wasn't just a raider; he was a conqueror. While Paullus sought wealth, Lanius sought absolute submission. He conquered all of New Mexico in just two years, crushing any resistance in his path, punishing those who dared to defy him.
We were lucky, that's all. Pecos Colony, by some miracle, never caught Lanius' eye. Had it done so, our story would have ended very differently. Despite our improved weapons, we were poorly equipped compared to the thousands of fanatical legionaries Lanius commanded. If his attention had turned to us, we wouldn't have stood a chance.
But we weren't his target. Lanius had his sights set on something much larger: Dog City, the largest city in the north, where thousands of souls were about to be crushed under his ruthless march. While his army advanced toward that city, we could breathe a little easier, but only for a while. We knew we couldn't hide forever. The world was changing, and Caesar and his Legion's shadow loomed ever closer over us.
The threat of the Legion didn't end with Lanius. Although his brutality was legendary, it was his second-in-command, Gaius, who began to stand out as an unstoppable force in our region. While Lanius crushed all of New Mexico and headed north, Gaius was assigned a new mission: to conquer Mexico in Caesar's name. His reputation quickly grew among those who traded with the Legion. It wasn't just rumors; merchants spoke with fear of his relentless efficiency. If Lanius was the destructive force of the Legion, Gaius was the hammer that struck with surgical precision.
What set him apart from Lanius was clear. Gaius didn't revel in cruelty; he didn't destroy for the sake of pleasure. But what he lacked in brutality, he made up for with astonishing efficiency. Soon, word of his first great feat in northern Mexico spread: in just two days, Gaius had wiped out one of the region's most powerful drug cartels, a group that had resisted the Republic of Rio Grande's efforts to crush it for years.
What the Republic had repeatedly failed to do, Gaius accomplished in just 48 hours. Families who still traded with the Republic began to wonder if the Legion was invincible, if perhaps the Republic, with all its attempts to control the north, was destined to fail. Gaius' success wasn't just military; it began to erode confidence in the institutions that had maintained the balance in this land. If a single person, commanding a few hundred legionaries, could crush a cartel of that magnitude, what hope did we, small traders and nomads, have of resisting?
The Republic of Rio Grande, in an effort to consolidate power and protect us from Caesar's advancing legions, had done everything possible to get us, the peoples of Pecos Colony, to join as new states of their Republic. The promises were tempting: protection, safe trade, and, above all, an army that could stand against the brutality of the legionaries. We were at a crossroads. Some leaders in the colony believed it was the only viable option to resist, while others feared we would lose our identity, our nomadic way of life, under the Republic's influence.
However, while we debated our future, fate took a turn. Las Granjas, our neighboring state, which was supposed to put the integration proposal to a vote, suffered a devastating blow. The "Fox of Chihuahua," their shrewd and charismatic leader, was assassinated on his way to the parliament of his city. His death was a shock to all of us. Las Granjas had been a stronghold of resistance against Paullus, a land that had proven its ability to defeat the Legion in the past, with a strong and well-trained militia. If anyone could resist the legionaries, we thought it would be them.
But it wasn't.
In just one day, Las Granjas fell. One single day. Under the command of Legate Gaius, the Legion forces tore through what we had once considered one of the safest and best-defended regions in our area.
It was the first time I regretted this democratic system we have. Although I, as the leader, had done everything possible to defend my people, a vote needed to take place to join the Republic of Río Grande, respecting the procedures. During the next two months, we had to resist so that the vote could be held, ensuring all families were present to vote.
But Legate Gaius was there, just across the river. No one knew when he would cross, and we would be next on his list of conquests.
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the checkpoint where I stood, watching the dusty horizon. Everything seemed quiet, as it usually was this time of year. However, that peace was shattered when one of my officers approached, his face tense and sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Sheriff Sheila… Paullus is on the move again. He tried to raid territory in the Republic of Río Grande, but was repelled. Now he's burning the southern settlements," he said gravely, as though the words were heavy in his mouth.
A knot formed in my stomach. It wasn't the first time Paullus had re-emerged like a persistent nightmare, impossible to eliminate. I clenched my fists tightly, my teeth grinding in frustration.
"That bastard again… How is it possible they still can't kill him?" I said, unable to hide the anger in my voice. He was like a ghost that refused to disappear, a scourge that seemed eternal for our land.
"Call all available officers and arm the volunteers! We can't think about resisting the Legion with Paullus burning everything in his path," I said firmly, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing on my chest as I grabbed my revolver and rifle, both now familiar in my hands.
The officer didn't hesitate for a second. He nodded quickly and rushed off, kicking up a trail of dust as he ran to gather the others. We knew that time wasn't on our side. Paullus moved with the ferocity of a storm.
I felt the cold steel of the revolver against my waist, a tool I had used far too many times in recent years. My rifle, worn but reliable, hung over my shoulder as I made my way to the settlement's central square. The people of Pecos Colony were beginning to notice the shift in the atmosphere, their conversations growing quieter as fear began to settle in.
As more officers arrived and volunteers began to gather, I knew we had to do more than just defend. Paullus wasn't an enemy that could be ignored; he had to be stopped before his destructive hand reached our doors.
We mounted the vehicles, engines roaring as we sped across the dusty terrain. The dry wind whipped around us, but our thoughts were clear and focused. The sound of wheels crunching gravel was only interrupted by radio transmissions as we tried to communicate with the border officers. We knew Paullus wouldn't stop, and we couldn't afford to waste time.
Finally, a response came. The border officers had managed to observe his movements. Paullus was advancing with his Legion chariots, that dark war machine that moved his troops from place to place with brutal efficiency. They gave us his exact location and the likely route he would take toward the next settlement.
Clenching my fists, I pressed on. There was no time to lose. Every minute that passed meant more destruction, more lives ruined. The people in that settlement wouldn't have any idea what was coming their way, but we were prepared. In a matter of hours, we managed to get ahead of Paullus's destructive path. We set up in the settlement we had deduced would be his next target, hiding among the abandoned buildings and preparing our positions to ambush him.
The day's heat was beginning to fade, but the tension in the air was palpable. We all knew that as soon as we saw the Legion banners approach, the real battle would begin. My hands gripped my rifle, my heart pounding. Paullus believed this would be another easy assault, another town he could burn without resistance, but this time he would be surprised.
From our elevated position, I could see my men and women, ready, hidden behind walls and rubble. Some took positions behind old trucks and wagons, their weapons aimed at the settlement's entrance. We knew the advantage was ours. Paullus was coming in confident, used to his mere presence causing terror, with no one offering more than token resistance.
But this time, it would be different.
The sun began to set, and in the distance, I could see the dust kicked up by the Legion chariots. My heart skipped a beat, but this time it wasn't fear—it was the anticipation of the battle we had been waiting for. I looked at my officers and nodded. They knew what was coming.
"Get ready," I murmured into the radio, keeping my voice low. "Everyone hold their positions. When they're close enough, we'll give them a welcome."
The sound of the chariots grew louder with every second. The Legion was coming, and this time, Paullus wouldn't walk away unscathed.
The Legion chariots stormed into the center of town, the roar of wheels and the clash of metal echoing through the air like an oncoming storm. The ground trembled under their weight, and dust rose in thick clouds, darkening the sky for a moment. The Legion raiders, confident and full of arrogance, leaped from the chariots, ready to repeat the brutal routine of destruction they were so accustomed to.
But this time, things would be different.
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章節 53: Pecos Colony II
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POV of Sheila
From our strategic positions, we watched as the legionaries spread out through the town, approaching buildings and preparing to loot whatever they could find. I held my breath, waiting for the right moment. The orders had been clear: do not fire until they were close enough, until we were sure they wouldn't have the chance to regroup.
The first raider reached a dilapidated store, pounding the door hard. That's when I slowly exhaled and raised my hand. We knew it was time.
"Now!" I shouted with all the force I could muster, and the sound of rifles exploded in the air like deafening thunder.
Dozens of shots rang out simultaneously, all aimed at the unsuspecting legionaries. In a matter of seconds, several fell to the ground before they could even react. Chaos gripped them. The raiders barked orders, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from, but the attack was precise, each shot counting, each bullet hitting its mark.
One of the legionaries attempted to retreat to one of the chariots for cover, but my rifle was already aimed. I squeezed the trigger and saw him fall before he could set foot inside the vehicle. Around us, my men and women, disciplined and trained, fired from the shadows, moving between the ruins as the legionaries began to retreat, desperate to escape the ambush.
"Don't give them any room!" I shouted over the radio, as we pressed forward, maintaining the pressure. We knew that if we allowed them to regroup, things could turn against us.
The situation shifted in the blink of an eye. The legionaries, caught off guard at first, quickly began to regroup. Their iron discipline and rigorous training drove them to fight back with a ferocity that was difficult to contain. We saw how some of them took cover behind their chariots and ruined buildings, while others began hurling grenades and dynamite towards our positions.
"Take cover!" I yelled just as an explosion rocked the ground a few meters from where I stood. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the sound of the detonation made my ears ring. Some of ours managed to dodge the explosions, but others weren't as lucky. I watched as one of our volunteers was thrown into the air by the impact of a grenade, his rifle falling lifelessly to the ground.
The legionaries weren't just shooting with pistols and rifles—they were advancing with swords and spears, seeking close combat. They knew our advantage lay in distance, in our precise shots from cover, so they tried to force us into close quarters, where they held the upper hand.
"Don't let them get close!" I shouted as I fired my rifle at a legionary charging towards us with a spear. My shot hit him in the chest, and he dropped to his knees before collapsing. But for every one we took down, it seemed like two more appeared, determined to finish us off.
Beside me, one of my officers had run out of ammunition and was fighting hand-to-hand with a legionary wielding a sword. The clash of steel echoed in the air. I rushed toward him and, before the legionary could make a fatal move, I fired my revolver, saving my officer by a hair's breadth.
The battle remained a brutal fight. Despite having gathered more than a thousand men and women, the enemy kept pushing with unexpected force. Paullus's men were fewer in number, but their discipline and savagery kept the fight in a constant state of tension. The explosions from grenades and gunfire mixed with war cries, and the air was thick with dust and gunpowder.
As the battle raged on in the growing darkness, an unexpected sound broke through the chaos: gunshots. But they didn't come from our positions or the legionaries in front of us. It was a different echo, distant, coming from the rear of Paullus's forces. The legionaries began to notice it too. There was a sea of bullets, growing louder, tearing through the night.
"What the hell…?" I muttered, looking toward the horizon. We didn't understand what was happening, but soon it became clear. The darkness behind Paullus's legionaries was suddenly illuminated by an intense glow, a wall of fire that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Flames engulfed the rear of their troops, casting shadows of legionaries as they turned to face this new attack.
"They're being attacked!" one of my officers shouted, pointing his rifle toward the fire. And it was true. The legionaries, who moments ago were focused on us, began to redirect all their efforts toward their rear, their attacks on us weakening. Something or someone had ambushed Paullus's forces, and it wasn't a small group. The noise of gunfire and the roar of explosions suggested the attack was coming in force.
I seized the confusion, my mind racing. "This is our moment!" I shouted to my men and women. "Move forward! Don't let them recover!"
My words echoed through the air, and the momentum was immediate. Without hesitation, we began to push forward, taking advantage of the fact that the legionaries were now forced to fight on two fronts. The fire crackled in the distance, and though we still didn't know who was behind the attack, we were ready to take advantage of the opportunity.
With the legionaries focused on their rear, our shots became more accurate, and we began to push harder. Every bullet we fired found a disorganized target—legionaries trying to fight two enemies at once. Paullus's commands, which had once rung out with clarity, were now lost in the chaos.
The wall of fire in the rear continued to grow, illuminating the battlefield with a hellish glow. Whatever it was, whoever was attacking Paullus, they had arrived at just the right time.
The fall of Paullus's legionaries began to accelerate. Their discipline, which had seemed unbreakable before, crumbled under the relentless pressure of our ambush and the assault from their rear. Every shot we fired found its mark, and the legionaries, trapped between two fires, began to fall like flies. The explosions and fire behind them forced them to retreat toward our lines, only making it easier for our rifles to do their work.
"They're retreating towards us!" one of my men shouted, aiming precisely at a legionary desperately running through the shadows.
Paullus' legionaries, cornered and disorganized, were trying to escape from whatever was attacking them from behind, but in their chaotic retreat, they ran straight into our gunfire. It was utter chaos. What had initially been a well-organized and fearsome force now resembled a group of desperate raiders, crumbling under the crossfire.
Every time one of them tried to stand up and regroup, they were struck down by our bullets or by the mysterious forces still attacking from the rear. The situation Paullus had created, thinking he would secure an easy victory, was turning into a nightmare for his men.
"Don't stop, keep shooting!" I ordered, my voice filled with determination. I knew we were close to breaking their formation entirely, and we couldn't allow them to regroup. I squeezed the trigger over and over, watching as the ranks of the legionaries fell faster and faster.
Confusion filled Paullus' ranks. Desperate shouts echoed through the air, but the legionaries were so overwhelmed by the pressure from their rear that they hardly paid attention to our positions. The few who tried to advance toward us fell before they could get close. Paullus' forces were entirely trapped, and retreat was their only option.
As the battle raged around me, something caught my attention amidst the chaos. I saw Paullus, easily recognizable by his imposing armor, with his steel helmet and heavy shoulder plates. He stood in the middle of the battlefield as if untouched by the hell unfolding around him. My rifle was already lined up toward him, my finger ready to pull the trigger when something strange happened.
A figure emerged from the smoke and fire, walking directly toward Paullus. He wore full steel armor, each step heavy and menacing, wielding a machete in hand. He was a formidable warrior, and for a moment, I thought he might be one of ours, a mysterious ally who had come to take down the infamous marauder. But when my eyes settled on the man's chest, a chill ran through me.
The emblem of Caesar's Legion gleamed on his armor.
He was a legionary, no doubt, but why was he attacking Paullus? Paullus seemed to notice it too. I saw his lips move, saying something I couldn't hear from my position. His movements were quick, though he looked more bewildered than scared. Was this armored man not one of his own legionaries? Or perhaps something else?
The air felt thick with tension, the battle continued around us, but my entire focus was on that scene. Something didn't add up. A legionary of Caesar's Legion, proudly bearing its symbol, but confronting the man who, in theory, should be under the same orders from Caesar. There was something profoundly unsettling about what I was witnessing.
Paullus, with his imposing figure and characteristic fury, launched the first attack. His sword moved swiftly, aiming to cut down his opponent with the same brutality that had claimed so many other lives. However, the man in steel armor was not like his usual victims. With an almost inhuman calm, he dodged every strike with precise movements, his agile steps contrasting with the weight of his armor. The sound of steel clashing with the machete echoed through the air, but none of Paullus' blows managed to pierce the defenses of the mysterious man.
Every time Paullus tried to strike harder, the man blocked or simply dodged, as if anticipating every move with ease. It was almost surreal to watch Paullus, the terror of so many towns, be frustrated again and again by a single warrior. The fury on Paullus' face was obvious; his attacks became more frantic but also more clumsy, fueled by frustration.
My men and I watched in silence, too confused to intervene. We couldn't understand what we were seeing. Who was this man? Why was he wearing the Legion's emblem if he was clearly fighting one of their own?
The armored man didn't even attempt to attack. His machete only moved to deflect Paullus' blows or block them with calculated precision. Every time Paullus' steel descended, the man received it effortlessly, as if the weight of the battle didn't affect him at all. It seemed like he was toying with Paullus, waiting for the exact moment to strike.
Paullus, on the other hand, was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. His movements, once lethal and precise, were now slower, more desperate. With every step, every failed strike, it became clear that this fight wasn't going the way he had planned.
I seized what seemed like the perfect opportunity. With Paullus distracted and growing increasingly frustrated, I raised my rifle, aiming directly at his head. My finger was on the trigger, and in my mind, I could already see that damn raider falling to the ground. But just as I was about to fire, the armored man moved swiftly and pushed Paullus out of the line of fire. The shots that should have ended his life veered off, hitting the dusty ground instead.
Before I could react, the armored man, with surprising speed, drew a rifle he had nearby and aimed it at me. I barely had time to process what was happening before he fired. The whistle of the bullets passed so close, I felt the impact as one of them ripped through my hat, knocking it off my head and sending it tumbling to the ground.
I ducked instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest. For a second, everything went silent in my mind, as if the battlefield had been paused by the intensity of that moment. I had narrowly escaped death by mere millimeters. The precision of those shots was terrifying.
"Fire on Paullus, kill him!" I shouted with all my might, my voice cutting through the roar of the battle. My men didn't hesitate. A hail of bullets began to rain down on Paullus and those around him. Every shot was a promise of justice, a vow to end the suffering that damned raider had caused. But when I dared to peek and see the result, something unexpected happened.
More men in armor, similar to the one who had thwarted my initial attempt, emerged from the shadows. They were silent and fast, moving with terrifying coordination. Before we could react, they grabbed Paullus and dragged him to the rear. My men tried to take them down, but the bullets bounced off their armor harmlessly, as if their suits were impenetrable. Frustration mounted with every useless shot.
"Damn it!" I cursed, watching as those armored men carried Paullus away from our reach.
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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
創作者的想法
Chill_ean_GUY
Chill_ean_GUY
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
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