It began with silence, then came the crows.
Carrion crows circled above, no longer waiting for scraps. Now they fed openly, hungrily, jabbing at the corpses strewn across the field like discarded dolls. The stench of blood and death clung to the air, heavy and undeniable. Among the broken bodies lay Titus Livius Decimus, pinned beneath the weight of the dead, injured but alive. His mind struggled to make sense of what had happened, how it had unraveled so quickly, how glory had turned to ruin.
Only days earlier, he had marched in perfect formation across a floating bridge engineered by Roman genius. Two months of backbreaking labour had transformed the Danube into a strategic crossing, linking the empire’s ambitions to the wild terrain of Dacia. The bridge stood like a wooden centipede, its backbone formed of iron-reinforced timbers, stretching over a thousand metres from bank to bank. It groaned beneath the weight of soldiers, warhorses, and siege equipment, yet it held firm. Rome always held.
The excitement had swept through the camps like wildfire. Orders to move out brought a flurry of action. Tents came down. Packs were strapped. Weapons were checked and checked again. Each cohort moved in precision, every step rehearsed, every formation drilled. Thousands of men marched as one, the iron heart of the empire pushing deeper into foreign soil.
Titus had crossed with pride, his loyal war dog Lakon trotting beside him. Towering and powerful, Lakon was bred for war. His dark coat bore the marks of past battles, but his senses were sharp, and his loyalty unmatched. Together, they advanced with the army as it carved its way north.
On the far side of the river, the Romans established their foothold. Scouts had already mapped the terrain, chosen the elevated site, and marked the layout of the camp. What followed was nothing short of a marvel of military discipline. Trenches were dug. Timber was felled and hauled from the forests. Defensive walls were raised with palisades sharpened to spear points. Engineers and legionnaires moved like parts of a machine, each man aware of his duty, each role contributing to the whole.
As dusk approached, the stronghold came alive with the sounds and smells of a mobile city. Fires crackled. Leather tents lined up in orderly grids. Soldiers polished weapons, unpacked rations, and prepared for whatever the forest might bring. From the Principia, Cornelius Fuscus observed the rising walls and the order unfolding before him with satisfaction. To command this force was to command a civilisation in motion.
Titus was on his way to report to the Praetorian Prefect when he heard the shouting. He turned toward the noise and found a contubernium servant being choked by a brute of a legionnaire named Fabius. The boy was bloodied and gasping, feet kicking in the air. Before Titus could intervene, Lakon had already launched forward, a black blur of fury and muscle. Fabius went down hard, the boy released, but the rage had only begun.
What followed was no clean contest of equals. It was a brutal, close-quarters fight, born not of discipline but of survival. Fabius fought like a beast, his strength terrifying, his will unbroken. Titus matched him with grit and speed, pushed beyond his limits by necessity. Blows were traded. Blood spilled. For a moment, it seemed the monster would win.
But Titus knew when to wait and when to strike. A single, blinding move ended the brawl. Fingers jammed into the eyes. The beast fell. And the power shifted.
Still limping, still reeling, Titus took the bruised servant under his wing. Gaius Flavius, beaten for over a year, now found safety in the shadow of a battered scout and his war dog. The three made their way toward the Principia, the boy still stunned, Lakon ever vigilant, and Titus unsure of what waited beyond the Prefect’s tent flaps.
In the fading light of that first night, Rome’s camp stood strong behind sharpened timber. But deep in the forest, others were watching. Others were waiting. And as the wolves circled in silence beyond the palisade, Titus had no idea that this was the last night Rome would sleep without fear.
What will unfold next will blow your mind. Read DRACO DAWN to know more: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1968296484/.
