004: The Descent of a New God!
As the last ray of sunset slowly vanished below the horizon, a crescent moon hung high in the dim, dusky sky.
The Roman expeditionary force, having crossed the sea, was poised to engage the Britannian allied army in a decisive battle the next day.
The Roman expeditionary force consisted of fifty thousand men, divided into five legions, with an equal number in the supply train.
"Is this what you call a favorable situation? These barbarians are right in our faces! How did you, as the commander, let this happen, getting lured deep into enemy territory like this!"
At this moment, in the Roman camp, Emperor Claudius I was berating the commander standing before him with bowed head.
Judging by appearance, Claudius I, who had unexpectedly become emperor at fifty, indeed showed obvious signs of illness. He needed to support his leg with his hands to walk, as one leg was bent and deformed.
From a modern medical perspective, it was most likely a sequela of poorly treated polio. But in the current 1st century AD, most people would simply believe this person was cursed by heaven.
"Your Majesty, for tomorrow's decisive battle, I hope Your Majesty can step forward, in the name of the God of War, Mars, to inspire morale..."
The Roman commander, Plautius, seeing the expressionless Emperor Claudius, spoke with less and less confidence. After all, their emperor could barely walk properly; how could they expect him to fight on the front lines? It would be good if he could just shout a few words.
But Plautius also had his unspoken difficulties. A year and a half ago, following the emperor's orders, he launched the expedition to Britannia. Initially, it was indeed a very favorable situation. It didn't take long to occupy most of the coastal areas and rapidly advance inland, sweeping through most of the plains and forests of the island in a short time.
Logically speaking, with such smooth progress, it should have been like—
A monster from the south has landed on the coast of Britannia.
An unspeakable murderer-king approaches Colchester.
The despicable and shameless Roman barbarians enter Southampton.
The Roman commander Plautius occupies southern Britannia.
With the situation extremely favorable, only the final step remained—
The supreme Emperor arrives this day at his loyal island of Britannia.
Unfortunately, it was at this final step that the Roman expeditionary force encountered major trouble and found themselves encircled by the enemy.
Although Emperor Claudius did have the idea of reaping the rewards—which was normal, as it was to consolidate his rule—he also understood he had no ability to command on the battlefield. He didn't strip Plautius of his command, simply waiting for the supreme military glory to fall upon his own head.
However, if nothing unexpected happened, then something unexpected did happen.
According to today's scout reports, the Britannian allied army, which had been beaten until they lost their armor and fled, had somehow managed to recruit the Picts, who possessed robust physiques and were sometimes even called giants, as well as some large magical beasts that retained strong mysteries.
Now, the fifty-thousand-strong Roman expeditionary force was pushed to the brink by the approximately ninety-thousand-strong allied army of the twelve Britannian kings. The Roman army could neither advance nor retreat without risking a rout that could result in the complete loss of all their lives.
"Plautius, you understand better than I what consequences you and I will face if we lose tomorrow's battle," Claudius said gloomily.
If the expedition to Britannia failed, not only Plautius, but even he himself would not escape blame. Forget the throne; whether they could survive was unknown. The loss of fifty thousand men would be enough to severely injure the ancient Roman Empire, which had only recently endured the madness of Caligula. Latent unstable factors from various regions would jump out again. Magecraft, curses, mysteries surpassing human intellect would bare their destructive fangs at the ancient empire that had endured until now.
So, although Claudius could now use the power of the mages to escape, this news would ultimately be hard to conceal completely. Because the Britannian allied army also had mages. The Roman army might still believe the emperor was present and there was hope for victory. But if they learned the emperor had fled, morale would likely collapse instantly.
"...I understand..."
Then, Claudius paid no more attention to Plautius and returned to his own quarters.
"Gods of Rome, may you bless your children with victory. God of War, Mars, please let your glory shine upon Rome once more."
Claudius closed his eyes in prayer. Although he didn't much like the gods, at this moment he desperately hoped the gods would truly appear.
For some reason, starting over forty years ago, mysteries everywhere had been rapidly disappearing. The gods who walked the earth a century ago had ceased to appear, as if their previous deeds were illusory, as if in an instant, the planet had moved from the Age of Gods to the Age of Man.
"Report, Your Majesty. News from Rome says that the heterodox—from the province of Anatolia—"
"Enough. Don't bring up their petty, scheming nonsense to me."
Claudius waved his hand, dismissing the reporting mage, indicating he didn't want to hear these boring, trivial messages anymore.
He almost knew by heart what the messages would say. It was just that spreading Christianity—today donating grain here, tomorrow building a church there, all sorts of miscellaneous things. He didn't want to hear it anymore because the pressing matter at hand was the menacing ninety-thousand-strong Britannian army...
"What's that noise? Could it be those barbarians launching a night raid?"
Claudius, resting his chin on his hand, suddenly heard noises outside the camp, but they soon died down.
This made the emperor extremely curious. Wondering what had happened, and without even summoning a mage to report, he walked out himself. Then, following the crowd's gaze, Claudius instinctively looked up at the sky. Actually, because of his nephew Caligula, he particularly disliked the moon goddess Diana, so he basically never looked at the moon at night.
But now, lifting his head with the others, the emperor understood why, despite the moving crowds, the compact supply trains, the sounds of unknown phenomena—all intertwined creating a bustling, noisy uproar—no one uttered more than a word. They simply watched silently—
A ray of sunset was slowly vanishing from the horizon. A crescent moon hung high in the dim, dusky sky. In the sky where sunset and moonlight met, something enormous and fiery-red became clearly visible.
"Hmph, barbarian magecraft? Trying to affect us with this."
The quickly composed Emperor Claudius asked the mage beside him. As Roman emperor, he naturally understood that such a scene could only be achieved through magecraft at present.
However, the trembling voice of the court mage told Claudius an unbelievable truth.
"N-no, Your M-Majesty, th-there's no fluctuation of magical energy there at all. It's like a pure phenomenon..."
"What!? Look again carefully. Is there some unknown magical beast in the sky?"
"Your Majesty, no, there really is nothing. Only the usual scenery. This is like pure..."
The mage swallowed nervously, not uttering the final few words.
But Claudius knew well. The unspoken final words were 'divine providence.' So he fell silent. Presumably, the reason for the silence among both the Roman army and the Britannian allies was the same—
Was this a reappearance of the glory of Rome's supreme god, Romulus?
Or did it stem from the great power of the ancient Britannian island itself?
Both sides remained silent, silently praying that this long-absent 'divine providence' belonged to them.
The evening breeze at dusk carried a hint of cold, brushing against Roman Emperor Claudius's face. He couldn't help but shiver, while continuing to watch the strange thing slowly forming in the sky. In his heart, he already felt this could not possibly be a divine providence of the Roman gods. Because, although not fully manifested, it was completely different from the symbols of the Roman gods he knew... so it could only belong to the enemy.
Claudius's mood sank to the extreme. The Roman soldiers naturally felt the same, because it was clearly not the symbol of their God of War, Mars. If this continued, the Roman army seemed likely to collapse on the spot.
Just as Plautius was about to make a last-ditch effort, the enormous thing in the sky finally fully manifested—
The power born from outside common sense shone brilliantly, yet lacked world-destroying force. It was simply intensely dazzling.
"What... is that?"
Claudius muttered the question. Because those five fiery-red cross-like decorations were facing the Roman army, and these words floated beside them:
By this, you shall conquer.
"Your Majesty, within Roman territory, only Christianity uses the cross as its symbol," the court mage beside him explained to his emperor.
"....." Emperor Claudius fell silent for a moment, not replying to the mage. Instead, he quickly called for a messenger. "Quick, go tell Plautius to have everyone mark their large shields with identical crosses! This is the power of a god! The five crosses symbolize our great army! Rome shall surely be victorious!"
As this order was passed from Claudius to Plautius, before long, everything in the entire Roman army that could be marked was marked with crosses. The effect was also evident: every soldier of the Roman expeditionary force believed Rome now had divine protection and was thus invincible!
"Christianity, the cross... a new god."
It was not a question seeking an answer. This was Roman Emperor Claudius speaking to himself. Beneath the dark night sky, he spoke as if inquiring.
"Your Majesty, then should we immediately inform—"
"...Unnecessary."
Claudius waved his hand, interrupting the court mage's words.
"I will personally meet him—Novia from the province of Anatolia, the messenger of this new god."
The next day, in the decisive battle between the Roman expeditionary force and the Britannian allied army, the Britannian allies were utterly defeated. Regions including Wales and Cornwall were completely overrun.
Thus, in AD 48, the whole of Britannia became the forty-fifth province of the Roman Empire.
Note: I'm new to translating so please be kind and tell me any mistakes you all find, I will try to release a chapter a day but don't expect much
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