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so-called officer would flee at the first time of trouble . He sneered at the thought of the pompous Fleet Officer Kretarus cowering on his bridge. Then again, calling that political hack an ‘officer’ is being generous .
    “Sir, I think we’ve got bigger problems than that.” The senior decanus shook his arm in haste, pointing to the field, diverting his attention away from the fleeing air fleet.
    All along the front, the Mongols were advancing. Already, Regillus could see the Roman skirmisher lines falling back to the main legion ranks.
    “Tell the men we’ll have work soon enough,” he said grimly, replacing his binoculars in their case. “If the Mongols have any more surprises up their sleeves, we’d best get ready for a bloody day.”
    As the space between the Roman and Mongolian centers continued to close, Regillus felt his heart beating faster. Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. Slowly, the Mongol horseman picked up speed, beginning their charge, but had yet to shelve their horsebows.
    The entire Roman line gave a thunderous battle cry as they lowered their shields and prepared to receive the charge. Light cavalry against armored infantry backed up by spears and artillery? There is no way such veteran horsemen would actually attempt that! Regillus remembered how the Mongols had attacked back at the inn.
    “It’s a trap. Those Mongol forces aren’t going to carry out their charge.”
    “Sir?”
    “That’s not how they fight! Their entire strategy is based on their history as nomadic steppe warriors. I remember the veterans talking about how our armies kept getting slaughtered by the Mongols until we could trap them against the river. In the middle of a driving rainstorm and using a rebel tribe as our allies. I doubt that any rainstorm is going to happen here to save us. Those riders will make pincushions out of our forces. This battle is already lost.”
    The men around him looked uncomfortable. Several mutters of anger at their commander’s defeatism reached his ears.
    And yet, they trailed off as the Mongol forces twisted and shifted, peppering the lines with seemingly unending volleys of arrows. Caught by surprise, the Romans ducked behind their shields, although the expert marksmanship and sheer amount of fire knocked holes in the thin, red line. They were now galloping away from the imperial forces, firing Parthian style over their shoulders.
    Further to the rear, Regillus could see flags and standards swirling as reinforcements were ordered forward. Arranged in a checkerboard pattern behind the main line, reserve cohorts rushed men forward to fill the gaps. Even the cavalry seemed to be stirring, gradually forming up into a huge diamond formation centered on the general’s standard. He can’t be expecting that the Mongols will actually receive their charge…
    Etruscas lowered his spyglass.
    “Is the general about to lead a cavalry charge, sir?”
    “Yes, and we better start making preparations to cover it from our flank.” Regillus quickly sketched out some orders, and had several of his cohorts already moving before the semaphore system operator sent a messenger over.
    “It’s as you said, sir. The tribune is ordering us forward.”
    “Indeed, he has no choice. Without our flankers, the charge will be surrounded and cut off inside a half hour. With them, he might last out the hour. That is, until we are overrun and our forces trapped against our own walls or the mountains,” Regillus stated harshly.
    “All to satisfy the honor and tradition of our leadership.” He filled his voice with scorn. All the anger and frustration he had felt, the years of suffering under his parents’ and brothers’ torment came welling up. The young officer clenched his fist. Why can’t we learn to change how we fight? To change how we deal with this? How many more young men must die to satisfy old men’s need for honor?
    It was a thought that had been considered by generations of younger men;