Lorian Legion

Command structure

Circa 75~193?* NC

As established by King Titus Alden (29-65+ NC)

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Total strength

Around 9000.

Military personnel: 5900 (300 engineers-1200 cavalry)

Attached Civilian personnel: around 3000

(Various professions, like blacksmiths, carpenters, nurses, whores etc.)

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Cohorts’ strength

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1^st Cohort (Regia): 2000 Legionnaires (2x1000 centuries)

400 Scout Cavalry

1x Prefect of the first Cohort

1x Optio of the first Cohort

2x Centurions of the first Cohort

4x Decanus of the first Cohort

(Attached units)

1^st Engineering Cohort: 100 Legion Engineers

1x Centurion (first Engineer Cohort)

1x Decanus (first Engineer Cohort)

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2^nd Cohort (Lesia): 1200 Legionnaires (2x600 centuries)

400 Scout Cavalry

1x Prefect of the second Cohort (Placus Durio)

1x Optio of the second Cohort (Potis Durio)

2x Centurions of the second Cohort

2x Decanus of the second Cohort

(Attached units)

2^nd Engineering Cohort: 100 Legion Engineers

1x Centurion (second Engineer Cohort)

1x Decanus (second Engineer Cohort)

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3^rd Cohort (Various, mostly Northmen after 193 NC)*:

1200 Legionnaires (2x600 centuries)

400 Scout Cavalry

1x Prefect of the third Cohort

1x Optio of the third Cohort

2x Centurions of the third Cohort

2x Decanus of the third Cohort

(Attached units)

3^rd Engineering Cohort: 100 Legion Engineers

1x Centurion (third Engineer Cohort)

1x Decanus (third Engineer Cohort)

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Officers

Lord Commander (later Legatus)*: Sir Demos Alden (circa 188 NC)

3x Prefects of Cohort

3x Optio of Cohort

9x Centurion of Cohort (3x Eng)

11x Decanus of Cohort (3x Eng)

3x Dottore of Cohort

1x Supply Sergeant (Baggage train)

3x Leaders of Horse (Scouts)

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Standards

A Gold Sculpted Tiger & Boar,

Placed on top of a pole

1^st Cohort (Roaring Tiger square banner)

2^nd Cohort (Charging Boars banner)

3^rd Cohort (various)

 

 

*(Before Lucius’ the third widespread reforms,

after the Battle of the Turncoats and the split in doctrine.)

 

 

 

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Potis Durio

The Legion is moving

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People called the series of canyons and brittle limestone mountains starting where the Lorian Plains met the Tricorn Heights and reaching almost the faraway Andatelia city, at the easternmost edge of Jelin continent, the Stonemaze Peaks. Impossible to traverse on horse, devoid of potable water and teaming with ruffians and brigands, it split the Lorian controled part of Jelin in two, forcing those wanting to go from Cartagen to Asturia to take the long way around. King Alistair thought it impractical for people to first travel west, in order to go east and decided to remedy the matter permanently. Or perhaps it was Lord Holt that wanted his city reaching the coast directly.

Whomever it was, Potis thought, watching the crack growing at the side of the boulder they had collapsed yesterday, under the constant clanging bedlam of hammers striking metal, he’d decided that the best way to do it, was building a road. The cracked part moved slowly inch by inch, the men working at it hard with chisels and splitting wedges, while vocally urging it along. Optio Potis squinted his eyes, the sun over his head blinding and noticed the whole vertical slope behind them, also sliding sneakily towards the ledge they’d dug out at the sides of the hard limestone.

Surely he was imagining things, he thought at first.

Until he didn’t.

Oh, crap.

“IT’S COMING DOWN!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. His throat hurting, adrenaline surging in his veins and waking him up. A terrible noise started, part of it a roar, the rest something ineligible, but loud enough to reach even the workers working on paving the road a couple of kilometers back and almost at the base of the mountain.

The men jumped from atop the cracked boulder, leaving tools behind, ankles turning when they landed on the rough terrain, knees bleeding and ears ringing as the noise had reached new heights and continued increasing. Potis decided it was time to retreat himself, when he saw the dust clouds rising from the torn apart ground, quickly covering everything up; stones, sharp rocks and huge boulders following right behind them.

The Optio dashed down the quarried but unfinished wide road, nailed boots hitting the ground hard, his feet propelling him forward, half his Cohort running beside him. Behind them, but hidden in thick dust clouds, the slope slowly came down, bringing along enough material to completely fill up the once narrow canyon the Legion’s engineers had widened and turned into a part of their road.

Optio Potis Durio made it down that day. It would take them at least two days to locate all the men lost in the disastrous collapse, but for three. Those they never found as they’d gotten buried under the rocks. Whatever little was left of them.

 

Several days later, traumatized though miraculously unharmed, but for one of his army-issued boots still missing in the mad rush to escape being pulverized, he’d never recovered, a solemn-faced Potis vowed along with the rest of the survivors, to immediately start working on reopening this part of the road. Haul away the bigger boulders and clear the debris anew, find whatever was left of their lost colleagues if they could and finish the cursed road, using their darn swords to cut through the Stonemaze Peaks, if it came to that.

His uncle Prefect Placus Durio, another respected member of the Durio family, especially inside the Legion’s circles, listened to him without interruptions, tiny sad smile on his lips, as an enthusiastic Potis explained how they should tackle the problem and solve it once and for all, bringing all the engineering Cohorts together, to work on the common cause.

“It is a good plan, nephew,” The senior Durio said, resplendent in his officer’s well-polished segmented Legion-type armour. “One matter though, vast enough to make all this mute, has unfortunately surfaced.”

The young officer sat back surprised.

“Whatever it is, surely you can push our request through, right?” He asked his uncle.

“I’m afraid. I cannot.”

Tyeus calloused toe!

“What… Why?” Potis snapped, slamming his fist on the table and making it jump, almost spilling the inkpot onto his uncle’s maps and official reports. They were inside a larger tent, well prepared for an officer, but as with everything in the Legion, if you wanted something to stay in its place, you had to nail it down.

“I will overlook your outburst,” Placus Durio said slowly, fixing the mess he’d made of his stuff. “You’re hurt, but you must grow out of it. Posthaste is my advice.”

“Some good people died,” Potis sniffled a little ashamed now, his face turned a deep red.

“Aye, they did, and more will, the way I see this going,” Placus offered, voice softer now.

For a long minute no one said anything and Potis thinking the meeting was over, wiped his eyes and nose with a sleeve, deciding to go back to his unit. Prefect Placus stopped him before he exited his tent. A finality in his words, lots of sadness and even fear mixed in.

“The Legion is moving.”

At first Potis thought they were given another project, perhaps due to the recent change in overall command, but seeing his uncle’s face and being a Durio, the young Optio quickly realized, what had prevented him from carrying out what he ought to, for those lost and left buried under the rumble.

Only one thing could outshine, or even cancel completely, such a noble undertaking by the Legion. One word that trumped all others.

A three lettered word.

 

 

War.