Heir of Aurelian

After defeating both the Huns and Gepids in battle, Marcellus had turned his army home. Yazdegerd had already escaped, and Marcellus did not intend to pursue him. As far as the eastern roman empire was concerned, their regent was attacked by a horde of pissed off barbarians.

Any claims otherwise were mere speculation. However, if Marcellus were to foolishly pursue the missing target, he would openly be declaring that he was behind the Gepid ambush on the eastern roman forces. Marcellus was many things, but he certainly wasn’t stupid, at least not enough to make an overt move on Yazdegerd.

As for Yazdegerd, he was fleeing for his life, from the pursuing Gepid cavalry, who by now had spent so much time and energy chasing the man they would settle for nothing less than his life. The good news was that the eastern Roman borders were not far away, so if he could survive for just a bit longer, he would be rid of these barbarian horsemen for good.

Or so he thought. The reality was he had two wounds on his body, and his leg was bleeding pretty badly. Luckily, he had not been struck in the femoral artery or he would already be a deadman. Still, as arrows rained down upon him from his pursuer’s composite bows, he found himself increasingly more afflicted with wounds.

The more arrows that stuck into the man’s body, the more rapidly he bled out. If he had not worn his mail hauberk, he would already have expired long ago. These simple interlocking iron rings had protected him from some of the more lethal strikes.

As if he were racing against time, Yazdegerd snapped the reins of his horse to propel the beast beyond its haggard state. This creature would either get him to the Roman border or die trying. He simply did not have any mercy in his heart for the magnificent beast.

An arrow slipped past the eastern roman regent’s head and cut his cheek. Though superficial, it caused Yazdegerd to panic. More and more arrows barreled through the air towards him, and some were even more striking his back. If not for the mail shirt, these arrows would surely have claimed his life. Yazdegerd could only curse Marcellus’ name as he made a mad dash for Roman Territory.

“Marcellus, you bastard, if you are still alive after all of this, I swear I will get you back for this betrayal!”

After saying this, his horse crossed through Roman territory, thinking that he was safe. The man looked behind him with a conceited expression, only to realize that the enemy did not care if they passed through Roman borders, and continued to pursue the man into his own lands.

Yazdegerd could only curse his foul luck. For the Gepid cavalry’s tenacity was beyond reasonable. He did not hesitate to snap his reins once more, hoping he would come across a limitanei patrol. However, in the end, his horse ran out of stamina and began to slow down until finally it collapsed on the ground, sending the man tumbling into the dirt.

Unlike Yazdegerd, the Gepid cavalry had purposefully slowed their horses and maintained their distance when they realized this chase would become a long distance affair. Thus, they had enough energy to catch up with the wounded regent, who could not even rise to his feet.

The commander of the Gepid cavalry got off his horse and approached Yazdegerd with his sword in hand. He quickly pinned Yazdegerd beneath his foot and held his blade to the man’s neck with a sinister smirk on his face. He spoke in his native tongue before spitting on the eastern roman regent.

“A fucking Persian. Here I thought you were supposed to be a filthy Roman. Whatever, it does not matter. When you finally reach your gods, tell them Sueridus, son of Thorismud, has sent you to them!”

After saying this, the man lifted his sword in the air, ready to decapitate the eastern roman regent. However, before he could swing his blade, an arrow struck through his neck. Sueridus gazed in horror as his last moments passed him by, only to realize that a nearby Limitanei patrol had claimed his life.

Upon seeing the approaching army, and the death of their leader, the Gepid cavalry immediately took off in the direction they had come from, but was escape so easily? They had just spent the last hour or two chasing after Yazdegerd. Their horses were tired and thirsty. They did not get far before being butchered by the cavalry of the limitanei. Yazdegerd sighed out in relief when he realized his life had been spared. The commander of this patrol quickly recognized the regent and called out for the support of a medic.

“Medicus! Come quickly!”

As he was waiting for a medic, the man quickly interrogated Yazdegerd, trying to find out just who was responsible for this attack.

“Your Highness, who did this to you? I didn’t get a good look at the riders!”

Yazdegerd coughed as he struggled to get to his feet. Ultimately, he was forced by the commander to stay still. He could only reveal what he knew, as well as his suspicions of who was really behind this ambush.

“Gepids, a whole horde of them. My forces were defeated. I barely made it out alive. Though the Gepids wielded the blade, I believe the sinister voice of a certain dictator is the one who gave them the courage to carry out this attack.”

The limitanei commander reacted in shock when he heard this words and could not help but ask for clarification over the matter.

“You don’t mean-“

However, before he could finish his question, Yazdegerd scowled at him before giving him further orders.

“Send word to Durio. If Titus Claudius Marcellus is so keen on fighting, then I will give him the war that he desires. Muster our men on our border with Illyricum, it is time we taught this pretender in the west a proper lesson about power and authority.”

The commander was quick to follow the regent’s orders. Yazdegerd was soon taken back to Constantinople, where the best medics treated his wounds. Whether or not he would die of an infection had yet to be seen.

Despite their best attempts to de-escalate the conflict during the negotiations, both Marcellus and Yazdegerd in an act of pride had made an attempt on each other’s lives, and because of this the Eastern and Western halves of the roman empire were now closer to a military conflict with one another than ever before.

Whether the two halves of Rome engaged in an all out war was now determined solely by the question if Yazdegerd would live or die from his wounds. Something Marcellus did not have an answer for.