Chapter 2: Marcus
1163 AD
“My Liege Lord, Caesar Marcus of the house Veru-Devian, Son of the Great Lord Alexander, Founder of the house Veru-Devian,
I write to you with discontent. Roughly two years ago you tasked me with the great endeavour of securing a victory of our ally Jósef of Nyitra and I regret to inform you that I have failed. I left with roughly 4911 men. 2163 men from your land in Bohemia and 2748 men hired to join our causes, from whom approximately one-third of the mercenaries hailed respectively Croatian, Polabian and Bavarian lands. As of the writing of this letter I will return with only 1500 men. The war has been lost and the Duke has been deposed. A wicked Catholic has been installed in your brother-in-law's place. This new pretender claims legitimate rule as his grandfather once ruled over Hungary and he, therefore, claims part of the Hungarian lands.
When we first arrived we were well supplied on our scouts informed us of the location of both the hostile and also allied forces. We chased the largest force in the region, roughly 4000 men, as the other aggressors had not yet arrived so we took the chance as tried to engage the host. I do not brag My Lord but it is fairly well known that I am a commander of great ability and with the stronger host I believed, as did the others in my command, that a victory against this enemy was inevitable.
We chased them for four months. Always right behind them. While we made sure they could not besiege our allied holdings, our allies besieged their holdings. Then suddenly, by the mid-march, we finally caught them off guard, or so we thought. They had found our allies, only around 1500 men, amid a siege and they attacked them. We rushed to their aid but we were too slow we engaged anyway as we were sure to defeat an enemy we had already estimated to be able to beat, but now they were also tired from a skirmish. It all lasted 6 days. On the first days, the small skirmishes were in our favour but suddenly, on the fourth day, a host numbering 5000 men arrived to assist the enemy. This was in the midst of the combat, as soon as I saw this I commanded the men to retreat. The next days were spent on the run and fighting the small groups chasing after us. From what I gathered we lost 2800 men that day. I lost those men. The next year or so we spent besieging smaller keeps and gathering supplies, always on the run. That is until today when I met with the aforementioned new Christian lord here. The war was over and we had lost. He promised us safe passage out of his lands.
I lost all those men, and I hope that you can forgive me for my failures my Lord."
Your Loyal Marshal, Vassal and Commander, Comes Konstantinos of the house Makrembolites.”
Marcus put down the message he had received. “But why didn’t Konstantinos just return home with this message?” Marcus asked, confused as to why a messenger had to relay it to him. Three years ago he had pledged to defend his new ally József and the three years had been rough. Smaller reports had been sent to Antonina, who had taken residence in Marcus' keep whilst she acted as his guarding and mentor, and he had only seen a glimpse of them but he knew it was bad.
“Lord Alexander has declared that the duchy Meissen, just north of us actually, must be reclaimed and reinstated into the Empire,” Antonina answered.
“But why not just come back to Praha and prepare if it’s just north of us?”
“You’ll learn soon enough of the loyalties people have to Lord Alexander, Marcus. While you are lawfully their rightful feudal Lord, they feel an obligation to him which transcends all” Marcus knew that Alexander was supposed to be this great and mythical man but he had never met him. Most of the time Marcus had been travelling between Antonina's estate and his own, not finally settled home in Praha. Marcus felt that there were many secrets of the world, both mystical and simply political, which Antonina deliberately chose not to share with him. Most of all he wished to know of Lord Alexander, his father. Antonina had taught him about the scrolls which told of Lord Alexander's return around one hundred years ago. He was no man, he was a Demigod and Marcus was his son. He knew that he was bigger and stronger, and most likely smarter, than others his age. Antonina had shared with him the secrets of the family, a coven of witches and wizards, or that was what the peasantry and nobility, not of Alexander's blood, called it.
“When will I meet him then? I’m almost 16 and I really want to meet him.” Marcus knew that his time would come but he was growing impatient.
“Soon enough.”
In the following days, Antonina and Marcus welcomed and tended to the wounded soldiers from the war in Hungary, even seeing some Hungarians joining them after defecting to the side of the non-Christians. Marcus had been studying the Magyar culture and practising their language, having become fully fluent now thanks to his countless hours with Judith, who had been teaching him.
“My Lord, may I speak with you?” One of the Hungarian men pushed forward between all the people so he could stand before Marcus.
“What is he saying?” Antonina asked gesturing for a translator.
“He just wants to speak to me,” Marcus said. He changed back into the language of the Hungarian man, “You may, what is it you wish to speak to me about?”
“My Lord, after our liege József was deposed and a Christian Lord was put in his place we felt that we could no longer call that place our home. I come to you with these men,” gesturing to the large band of men who had come with him, “we wish to join in the fight for Meissen, to fight for the Lord himself, but we beg for you to let us regain our strength here before we leave.” Marcus thought about the lessons he had been taught.
“You shall stay here until you feel ready to leave for war.” Marcus proclaimed to which the Hungarian men exclaimed chants he did not know but he could understand that they were happy. Antonina applauded Marcus for showing the men hospitality to which he remarked that it was she who taught him how to act appropriately. The pleasantry with the Hungarian band was cut short once Marcus saw what was happening not far behind them. Marcus’ half-brother Avitus, his sickly younger brother, was blessing wounded soldiers, praising that by Lord Alexander's will that they will get better. Avitus was intelligent for his age and that was the problem. The others around his age didn’t preach the name of the head of their dynasty. But Avitus truly believed that he was making a difference for the better with his small preachings, people had started giving him the nickname ‘The Child Preacher’. Some bullies had surrounded him and started pushing him but it didn’t stop Avitus. He continued preaching and everything was normal, right until one of the children, Verus - who, from what Marcus gathered, was the head of this little group of bullies, chose to do something he had not done before. He punched Avitus.
Verus was as old as Marcus so it was not a light punch or anything like that, he threw his whole weight at the sickly boy. Without hesitation, Marcus threw himself toward Verus. None stood in his way. The group of bullies ran away as fast as they could as soon as they saw him because Marcus was their liege and he was also Lord Alexander's son and carried blood from the Demigod. His strength was unmatched. Marcus reached Verus, on top of Avitus continuously beating him, commanding him to stop. Verus stood up but spit at Avitus on the way.
“Get up Avitus, it’s all right.” Marcus said, helping his brother up.
Avitus with all the power left in him rose to his feet. “It’s all right brother. Verus and the others will one day see the errors of their ways and-” Avitus fell back down. Verus had hit him again. Marcus felt the rage, which had built up inside him, almost flow over and take control of him.
“Help him up,” Marcus commanded Verus giving him a stern look to which Verus chose to answer by spitting at Avitus again. Marcus felt that he lost control. It was his body but he was not the one in control of it anymore. It all happened so fast, it was like a blur. One second Verus was spitting and then Marcus chased him outside the walls of the keep, out to some fields. It was only when Marcus felt Antonina pull him back and yell for him that he realised what he had done. It would be a lie to say Verus was breathing. The few breaths he took were wheezes while he lay there, bloodied and beaten.
Marcus retreated back inside the keep with Antonina, who promised to sort things out with Verus. Marcus begged for her to compensate his family and make sure they didn’t need anything but Verus didn’t have any family. His parents died when Lord Alexander conquered these territories. His brother had raised him but he died in the war in Hungary. Antonina promised to take care of it. By nightfall, Marcus wanted to check up on Avitus and went to see him. He was in fine shape but had visibly taken a beating.
“Sometimes Avitus, I feel as if you’re fifteen years my elder. As if some wise man speaks through you.” Marcus said to his little brother with a smile on his face, trying to brighten his mood.
“I just try to be like you.”
“You shouldn’t”
“You did what you deemed was right brother. Mother is proud, wherever she is. You chose to protect me.” Avitus smiled. Marcus knew that Avitus looked up to him and wished to be like him when he grew older but Marcus knew some fundamental things that Avitus did not. Marcus did not know specifically how he knew but he felt what he thought to be the spirit of Avitus. He had tried it before with Antonina, she had told him vaguely about feeling the life force of others. He felt that Avitus was very sick, something which he had been his whole life and that he most likely would not make it to fifteen. Marcus didn’t want Avitus to spend his time trying to be someone else like Marcus. Avitus dreamed of the day their mother returned and this great spark wasn’t something Marcus would want to take from him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his younger brother that their mother was dead.
