Fallout:Blood and the Bull

honest reviews would be greatly appreciated

Any opinion and comments are welcome

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The merchant looked at me with a mix of desperation and fear, his face stained with blood and dust. He had tried to help the few survivors from his group, but his efforts were futile; the corpses around him told the true story. I showed no gesture of compassion—such was not expected of me.

"What happened here?" I asked in a deep voice, my tone firm as I adjusted the wolf pelts adorning my armor. My eyes remained fixed on him, unmoving, like a predator assessing its prey.

The merchant turned toward me, anger flickering in his eyes. "What do you think happened...?" he began to reply, his voice sharp with frustration. But upon seeing me, his demeanor shifted instantly. He licked his lips, swallowed hard, and lowered his tone. "We were ambushed… they killed my guards and took everything of value."

His fear was palpable, but I had no time to console him.

"Where did the attackers go?" I pressed, ignoring his condition and focusing on what mattered.

The merchant raised a trembling arm and pointed toward a path disappearing into the trees. His voice was barely a whisper. "That way…"

"How many?" I asked, keeping my words brief and to the point.

"More than ten," he answered, his face pale as he looked at me with uncertainty.

I allowed a faint, cold smile to touch my lips, devoid of any comforting emotion. "Good…" I murmured. "I'll see what can be done."

Turning to my brothers, the frumentarii, waiting near their horses, I spoke. "Someone has violated Lord Caesar's peace. They are marked for death." My words carried the weight of a decree, clear and final. They knew what it meant: there would be no mercy for the guilty.

We quickly mounted our horses, and the dogs we had brought began sniffing the trail of the bandits. The scent of fear, blood, and looting guided them like a taut rope.

"Brothers, we have work to do," I said as I adjusted the reins of my horse and the wolf-hide cloak on my shoulders. "These men thought they could defy Caesar's order. Soon, they will learn otherwise."

Without further words, we rode at full gallop, the dogs running alongside us, barking eagerly as they followed the trail. It didn't matter how far the bandits had gone or how many they were.

We began the hunt, following the dirt path stretching straight into the horizon. There was no place to hide; the tracks were clear. The dogs strained at their leashes, noses pressed to the ground as they followed the trail left by the bandits' horses. The dust kicked up by their flight still lingered in some parts of the path, and fresh hoofprints in the dirt confirmed they weren't far.

The path was bordered by dry fields and sparse shrubs, with no dense forests or significant cover to hide for long. It was the perfect setting for a hunt.

"They're not far, brothers," I said, tightening my grip on the reins and staring ahead. "They've left a trail too obvious. Either they're overconfident that no one is following… or too foolish to conceal themselves."

We pursued the trail with the determination characteristic of the frumentarii, but time was not on our side. Within an hour of chasing, the rain began. It wasn't a downpour, but enough to turn the path into a mire and wash away the tracks that had been guiding us so far.

"We've lost the trail, brother," said the frumentarius in charge of the dogs. His tone was steady, but his gaze betrayed the frustration of someone who knew what was at stake.

I paused, scanning the path ahead, now barely discernible under the water trickling through the grooves of the earth. "It seems fate wishes to test our resolve before Lord Caesar," I replied, my tone solemn rather than frustrated.

With no other choice, we decided to continue the search despite the challenges. Splitting into small groups, we inspected the path and surrounding areas for any signs the bandits might have left behind. The rain not only erased tracks; it dampened our spirits. Each step in the mud felt like a greater challenge, but failure was not an option.

Our search yielded no results for hours. The rain fell steadily, washing away every clue. As night began to fall and the weather showed no mercy, I decided we had to stop. Continuing in these conditions was futile.

"Brothers, we will camp tonight," I ordered. "Let the dogs rest, and let the men regain their strength. When the rain stops, the hunt will continue."

The night passed with minimal conversation, the rain drumming on our cloaks as each man took shelter in his determination. There was no frustration, only the understanding that serving Caesar required patience and sacrifice.

At dawn, when the rain finally ceased, we resumed the search. We divided the area into perimeters, expanding our reach to any place the bandits might have hidden. It was meticulous work, driven by our discipline and the conviction that every step brought us closer to completing our task.

During one of these searches, we found a small camp. It didn't guarantee it belonged to the bandits, but something about the place immediately caught our attention. Near the extinguished fire, we discovered torn and bloodied fabric carelessly discarded to one side.

"This is a clue," I murmured, lifting one of the pieces to inspect it. It wasn't definitive proof, but it was more than we'd had so far.

What truly confirmed our suspicions was the muddy trail leaving the camp. Deep impressions of boots and hoofprints were clear in the still-soft ground.

"They passed through here not long ago," one of my brothers observed, pointing to the winding tracks disappearing into the horizon.

"The hunt continues, brothers," I said as I straightened and motioned toward the path. "Now we have no excuses. Caesar's will calls us, and we will not rest until it is executed."

With renewed vigor, we mounted our horses and followed the tracks. This time, the trail would not escape us. The bandits had gained a few hours with the rain, but they would soon understand that no one escapes Caesar's shadow.

Our resolve drove us forward, focused solely on fulfilling Caesar's will. There were no pauses; no distractions. The hunt continued relentlessly, the sun climbing higher into the sky until it reached its zenith.

Finally, the trail led us to a small village nestled along the path, its streets still marked by the mud left by the rain. The fresh muck at the entrance of a tavern drew our attention, as did the group of horses tethered nearby, their flanks caked with mud. It was the final piece of evidence we needed.

Without hesitation, we dismounted and advanced toward the tavern, weapons ready.

I pushed the door open forcefully, and the sound from within greeted us: laughter and celebration, drunken voices unbothered by the outside world. My eyes quickly scanned the room, settling on the group occupying the central table.

Their boots were caked in mud, and the daggers and knives at their belts still bore dried bloodstains. No further evidence was needed. They were the marked ones.

The tavern fell silent as we entered, our presence casting a shadow that extinguished their revelry. Some froze in place, while others began to back away, sensing what was about to unfold. The bandits, however, didn't react immediately. They were too confident, too drunk on their apparent success.

I took a step forward, my voice rumbling through the room. "CAESAR HAS MARKED YOU FOR DEATH, AND THE LEGION OBEYS!" I roared, with the force of someone who fears nothing and never backs down. "PREPARE FOR COMBAT!"

The first one fell before he could even rise from his chair, his chest pierced by the spear of a frumentarii. The weapon lifted him from his seat and let him fall heavily to the floor, his eyes wide open in a final gesture of surprise.

Another bandit managed to stand and draw a short sword, but he didn't get a single swing. A swift blade slashed through his throat, and he collapsed onto the table, spilling blood over the remnants of food and stolen coins.

The dogs we had brought lunged at those who tried to escape, tearing at legs and arms with relentless fury. One bandit reached the back door, but a frumentarii intercepted him, plunging his spear into the man's back before he could take another step.

It all happened within seconds.

Some bandits tried to organize themselves, but their disorder and fear made them easy to take down. Two of them raised tables as makeshift shields, but our spears pierced through them with ease, striking them down with precise blows that left them on the floor, groaning as blood pooled on the wooden planks.

A larger group of four men managed to align their knives and swords and charged at us together. It was a desperate attempt that came to nothing. Three of them were struck down by spears before they could take two steps. The last managed to land a blow on one of my brothers' arms, but his attempt was swiftly avenged. A sword ran him through, and he fell with a stifled cry.

The tavern had transformed into a scene of chaos and blood. The villagers and customers, huddled against the walls, watched in horror as the bandits were mercilessly slaughtered. There were no screams or unnecessary orders—only the sound of swords and spears fulfilling their purpose.

One bandit, armed with an axe, tried to leap onto a table to throw himself at us. I stopped him with an upward slash of my sword, severing his legs at the knees. He fell to the ground screaming, but was quickly silenced by another frumentarii.

"By Caesar's will!" one of my brothers roared as he struck down another enemy with a swift thrust of his spear.

Silence reigned in the tavern. The bodies of the bandits were scattered across the floor, their weapons useless beside them. The tables were overturned, and the stench of blood filled the air.

The tavern keeper, who had been hiding behind the counter, emerged trembling. "W-we didn't know who they were! Please, don't destroy my tavern!" he stammered.

I looked at him coldly. "You have nothing to fear, as long as you remember whose lands these are. If you ever see men like this again, send a message to the Legion immediately. Understood?"

The man nodded quickly, retreating toward the counter.

"Cut off their heads," I ordered with a firm voice that resonated through the tavern. "They will serve as a reminder. No one defies Caesar's will and lives to tell about it."

My brothers did not hesitate. Swords rose, and one by one, the heads of the fallen were severed from their bodies. The sound of flesh being cut and bones crunching filled the tense silence of the room. The villagers, pressed against the walls, watched in horror, unable to look away.

Before leaving the tavern, I cast one last glance at the tavern keeper. "Let this serve as a lesson. Caesar protects these lands, and his peace will not be challenged. Spread the word."

The man nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he wiped the counter with nervous movements.

After the massacre and the collection of the bandits' heads, we made our way to the horses they had left tied outside the tavern. It didn't take long to find the cargo they had stolen from the merchant: chests filled with jewelry, spices, finely carved combs, and other valuable items that spoke of the high price of their theft.

"This confirms their crime, brothers," I said as I opened one of the chests, revealing its contents. "Not only did they defy Caesar's peace, but they also dared to rob brazenly from those who should be protected under his shadow. This loot must be returned to its rightful owner as soon as possible."

We thoroughly inspected each horse, ensuring nothing was hidden. My men redistributed the loads, securing the chests and sacks of spices on our mounts. The dogs stayed close, panting after the fight, as we kept watch for any further threats.

"Brothers, we have fulfilled Caesar's will here, but our task is not over," I declared firmly. "The loot must be returned to the merchant so that his peace may be restored."

"Ave Caesar, true to Caesar," my companions responded in unison, with the devotion of those who know their purpose is greater than themselves.

When we returned with the recovered cargo, we found the merchant not far from the site of the ambush. He had set up an improvised camp along with the few survivors of his caravan. From a distance, we could see the smoke of a fire and figures huddled around it, trying to keep warm after the storm.

As we approached, the dogs began to bark, announcing our arrival. The merchant, recognizing our silhouette, rose immediately. His face reflected a mix of relief and anxiety as he ran toward us.

"You've returned! Please, tell me… tell me you've found it," he exclaimed, his voice trembling.

Without a word, I motioned to my men. One of them dismounted and opened the first recovered chest, revealing the jewelry and spices that had been stolen.

The merchant knelt beside the chest, touching the items as if to ensure they were real. "It's… it's everything they took… I can't believe it. You recovered it!" His words were laden with emotion, and for a moment, it seemed he might break into tears.

"Your cargo is complete, and your enemies have been eliminated," I said coldly. "No man who defies Caesar's peace lives to tell of it."

The merchant lifted his gaze toward me, still kneeling. "I don't know how I can ever repay you for this. My guards… my friends… some of them died. But you've saved what remains. There are no words for my gratitude."

"You owe us nothing, merchant. Peace in these lands is not a luxury; it is Caesar's will."

Before departing, I addressed the merchant once more. "Let this be etched into your memory, and may others learn from your experience. In Caesar's lands, justice is swift, and peace is absolute. Anyone who dares to defy Caesar will find us at their throat before they see another day."

The merchant nodded fervently, his face still marked by fear, but with a spark of hope in his eyes. "I will remember, my lord. I will always remember this day. And I will never forget who protects these lands."

With our duty fulfilled, we mounted again and left the camp behind.

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honest reviews would be greatly appreciated

Any opinion and comments are welcome