Reborn In 3rd Century Rome with Future Industry

The command left Lucius’s lips and the *Castra Umbra* erupted into a frenzy.

The Security Chief turned to the courtyard, bellowing orders. The ballistas were dismounted from their mounts and hauled onto carts. The Gothic cavalry began replacing their lances with fresh ash shafts from the armory.

Lucius marched back down to the courtyard.

Isolda matched his pace, her eyes scanning the mobilization of the estate’s forces.

"They march with two cohorts," Lucius murmured as they crossed the courtyard. "A thousand legionaries. If we stay behind these walls, Tribune Gaius will surround the estate, cut off our water supply, and build siege ramps."

"Then we do not fight them on their terms," Isolda replied. "My father says the Roman legions are like a boar. If you stand in front of their tusks, they will gore you. You must strike the belly."

Lucius stopped, looking at his bride with a smile. "Your father is a smart man."

Titus and Decimus rushed up to them, both foremen covered in soot.

"Dominus!" Titus gasped. "Valerius says the Third Legion is marching on us! We are hiding the gold in the deepest mine shafts!"

"Forget the gold," Lucius ordered. "Decimus! How much liquid slag is pooled in the secondary crucibles?"

Decimus blinked, wiping grease from his forehead. "Slag? Hundreds of gallons, Dominus. The furnace has been running for days. But it is waste product..."

"It is liquid fire," Lucius corrected him. "Do you remember the clay casting molds we use for the plowshares? The hollow spheres?"

Decimus nodded.

"I want you to take every hollow clay mold we possess," Lucius commanded. "Fill them with boiling slag, and seal the tops with wet clay. Wrap the spheres in chains. Do it now!"

Decimus’s eyes widened. "By Vulcan... they will be iron bombs. If they shatter—"

"They will bathe the Roman infantry in molten rock," Lucius finished. "Move, Decimus!"

The Master Blacksmith turned and sprinted toward the fires of the forge, bellowing for his men to prepare the molds.

Lucius turned to Valerius, who had finished organizing the ballista carts. "Where is the Third Legion marching from?"

"The northern encampment, Dominus," Valerius replied, pointing toward the horizon. "They must take the imperial highway to reach us. It runs through the narrow gorge near the aqueduct ruins."

Lucius’s mind recalled the topography of the region. The gorge was a narrow choke point bordered by high ridges. It was a nightmare for an advancing army, but the Roman legions were arrogant; they rarely feared ambush in their pacified provinces...

Valerius stared at him, shocked. "Dominus... you want to ambush two cohorts of the Third Legion? We have two hundred *Custodes* and fifty Gothic riders. They outnumber us five to one with heavy infantry."

...

Miles away, Tribune Gaius rode at the center of the column, surrounded by the crested helmets of his centurions.

Gaius was enjoying himself. The Guild Master, Spurius, had begged him to intervene, offering a bribe of silver. But Gaius wasn’t doing this for the silver. He was doing this because he knew what Cassius’s son was hiding. He had seen the steel spatha at the border camp. He intended to execute the boy for treason, confiscate the blast furnace, and supply the northern frontier with weapons.

"Tribune," the Centurion called out, pointing ahead. "The gorge narrows for the next mile. Should we deploy auxiliary scouts to the ridges?"

Gaius scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "We are in the heart of Gaul, Centurion. The only things on those ridges are frightened sheep and dirt-farmers. Keep the column tight. I want to reach Fundus Ferratus by midday."

He was oblivious to the fact that fifty feet above him, hidden in the darkness of the ridges, Lucius was watching his every move.

Lucius lay flat against the stone, Isolda beside him, her eyes tracking the Roman column winding through the gorge below.

Further down the ridge line, invisible in the shadows, Valerius and the *Custodes* manned the ballistas. But these ballistas were not loaded with steel bolts.

They were loaded with chain-wrapped clay spheres, radiating heat.

Lucius waited until the center of the Roman column was positioned within the narrowest section of the gorge.

Lucius raised a bronze signaling mirror, catching the moonlight, and flashed it twice toward Valerius’s position.

The silence of the gorge was shattered by the *SNAP* of twenty ballista arms releasing.

Tribune Gaius jerked his head up at the sound, recognizing the noise of siege weaponry. But before he could shout an order to raise shields, the night sky above the legion was filled with clay spheres.

The clay bombs smashed into the walls of the gorge and into the Roman formations.

The results were catastrophic...

The clay shattered upon impact, releasing gallons of boiling slag!

It rained down upon the legionaries like liquid fire.

The liquid rock melted through the iron rings of their chainmail and seared into bone. Men dropped their shields, shrieking in agony as the slag adhered to their skin, burning them alive in their armor.

The tight formations broke apart as soldiers shoved their comrades out of the way in a panic to escape the falling fire.

"Shields up! Testudo!" the Centurions screamed.

But a defensive turtle formation of interlocking shields was designed to deflect arrows and javelins.

It was useless against liquid rock that pooled and burned through the wooden planks.

From the ridge above, Lucius watched the pride of the Roman Empire melt into a screaming mob.

He was redefining how humans killed one another...

"Now," Lucius commanded.

A war horn blew from the darkness at the far end of the gorge.

Amalric and the fifty Gothic cavalry charged into the mouth of the pass. Behind them, sprinting on foot, were two hundred *Custodes*. They were armed with sledgehammers and spearheads that Lucius had designed to pierce Roman armor.

They slammed into the vanguard of the legion.

The *Custodes* stepped over the screaming Roman soldiers, crushing skulls with their sledgehammers and driving the spears through the survivors.

Down in the center of the carnage, Tribune Gaius was thrown from his horse. He scrambled to his feet, his armor splattered with the blood of his own men.

He drew his gladius, his face twisted in a mask of rage. He looked up toward the ridge line, spotting the silhouette of the patrician standing against the moonlight.

"Cassius!" Gaius roared. "You are dead! Rome will burn you for this!"

Lucius looked down at the ruined Tribune.

He felt no pity... This man would have gladly executed his entire family for a fraction of their wealth.

Lucius turned away from the edge of the cliff, taking Isolda’s hand.

"Let Valerius finish it," Lucius said. "Leave no survivors. If the Senate does not know who broke their legion, they cannot send another."

The Battle of the Gorge would never be recorded in the imperial annals.

The Roman authorities would assume the two cohorts had been ambushed and annihilated by an Alemanni raiding party that had crossed the Rhine in the dark.

But the truth was far more terrifying...

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