The uncharacteristically bolting sound belonged to the usually calm and quiet Plinius, who jolted around the opened hole on his white horse, behind him reinforcements of almost three extra troops, among them the few soldiers who came with him from Rome. And like a sudden invading winter puff of air, the battlefield regained its balance, resolves rising high again in the hearts and swords of the attackers, while fears and surprise sweeping the attacked group.
"I heard you were a noiseless fellow, but I was certain you would not miss this party for your life!"
Ilianus growled like a happy animal. Plinius smiled briefly before ambushing the place, leading his soldiers courageously from the front, wearing his silver and red armor, as his similarly colored cape flew behind him like a wave ready to sweep this merciless shore. His sword was tearing through the enemies, a resolute expression dominating his features every time he slew one of the hooded men, and a saddened goodbye yet devoid of compassion or respect when he killed one of the betraying soldiers.
The battle started fierce then dwindled like a flame facing the intrusion of wind. Bodies with different embroidered slogans and worn colors fell alike into the talons of death, deaf to the howls of the fight and the screams of their friends for help or encouragement. Blind to their wounds and torn limbs, senseless to their suffering and struggling. Ilianus, receiving wounds leaving marks on his sturdy body no less impactful than the bites of flies, roared in enthusiasm, encouraged by the lieutenant's arrival, fighting and dashing through enemies line faster and more brutally than before. Plinius had to abandon his horse at that bizarrely tight yet spacious place , trudging the fighting ground on foot but with no less strength or speed. For a few moments, the outcome hazed in the distance like an upcoming sunrise painted to clean all the crimes and pleas this cult had caused and brought. But that sunrise shied at the last second, as a robust feet shook the floor, waving around a massive Fascina that stabbed its opponents more similarly to a sword that a trident. Growing a long beard despite his smooth face made him resemble the sea god Neptune, but his mature features, giving more years to his actual age, it was more accurate to picture him as Poseidon the elder Greek god. His mere entrance into the battlefield lifted the hopes and fighting spirit of his men, exclusively the remaining hooded men. This made things clear, he was their leader, and he had finally decided to descend onto the hell of blood and murder to end this invasion that went wrong for both parties, both failing at their strategies and surprised by accidental ones.
Plinius did not waste a moment to run toward the man, not caring for the enormous size difference that resembled the difference between Ilianus and any other man, cutting bodies and amputating arms as he dashed forward, frowning at the cruelty of this fight. However, Ilianus was closer to the leader and faster than the lieutenant. He jumped at him like a bear that had been caged for long, but Aengus was prepared and unfazed by the sudden attack like a man possessing more than five senses. He rebelled the steel bat with his Fascina, trapping the weapon's head between the three divided fangs while kicking the giant Greek so hard that the bear - like man flew crashing across the wall. This simple act, the first one since his entrance proved him to be an enemy not to be underestimated. Loyal Roman soldiers crumbled at his feet, three holes piecing their bodies. Ilianus tried to get his balance back and stood swaying while holding to his bloodied head, uncaring for the blood that merged perfectly with his hair color and clouded his vision, still stumbling forward like an enraged bull by the red he was seeing, in a second attempt, hoping it to be the final and decisive one.
Aengus laughed loudly at the futile display of resoluteness and bravery, sending an aura of a vow of winning, inviting by his arrogant laugh victory to reside in his hands. The two colossus men managed to exchange few blows this time, but the "Justice Pallbearers" tridents was something else, it truly never missed an aim or trailed off track like a god's work of a miracle. The two even butted heads like savage beasts, the Greek grunting through his head wounds. By the time Plinius arrived to aid the man who informed him of the plan and invited him to take his share, that man had already fallen down, pierced at the shoulder, the sound of his tendons getting cut gritting like an awful verse that had no rhyme or schema other than pain and wailing. Ilianus's fighting hand was useless now, and likely forever, which frustrated the giant more. He tried to get up but another kick sent him across the ground like a sweeping rug. Plinius communicated with his eyes with two of his men to protect and carry the wounded man to safety despite his enfeebled protests that quickly fell silent to unconsciousness. At the horrible barbaric act, the soldiers morals began to tremble. How could one man flip the scale this easily and defeat the one gladiator they believed would never fall that easily with the body and strength of an ox? Plinius had to correct this situation, he looked around for the lancer and the counselor and found neither. There were no time for speculations. Although his sword was nothing in power and sturdiness like the Greek's bat, he did not back down, and he charged at the leader, raising the hopes of his followers with words lost between the clashing of the two weapons. One strategy was a must; he had to avoid getting his blade tangled between the sea god's weapon fangs and this sole act proved too difficult and exhausting, demanding a quick presence of mind and a quicker feet and swirls. Aengus raised his Fascina high in the air aiming to crush the crazily daring lieutenant like a bug, but Plinius was a soldier, and this was not his first battle, though the most unique of its kind. He lowered his body, almost squatting on his knees and summoned his entire hand strength into the blade of his sword, praying to break the weapon in two. The blade of the trident did acquire its first scratch but did not break, merely lost its aim and drifted in another direction. Meanwhile, Plinius felt the tendons and muscles of his arm on the edge of tearing. He could not repeat Ilianus's mistakes, so as the following strike hunted him, he crawled avoiding it without shame, as survival was needed for now.
"You are the one responsible for all these people's misery, I will send you back to hell where you belong!"
Plinius threatened, panting and drenched in blood and sweat, few injuries, not serious enough, adding to the charm of his military appearance.
"Misery? I was doing my duty, saving their lost souls!!"
Plinius batted his eyes few times, unable to digest any word except the madness they conveyed. It did not matter, he was not here to negotiate with the man, he had come to end it all, as a Roman citizen and soldier, as a duty toward his gods, emperor and citizens. He darted once more as the expected yet delayed result had finally spoken. The old building, vandalized, burnt, and destroyed, began to collapse entirely, notwithstanding the crowds prancing and warring inside it. A bridge, came crumbling down, separating the two men but crushing many others, undifferenting between foes and allays. As if the justice it was once a symbol of meant nothing no more.
Now the battle turned into a chase, evacuating the place became the first priority. The enemy was mostly vanquished and those who were seized as prisoners for further investigations were killed to ease the escape. Plinius dusted the gravel and stone laden air bathing him but could not see Aengus anymore. So despite his formidable appearance, he was a coward. But returning back to his mad words, maybe he believed his escape was necessary to carry on his message of salvation he spoke with frantic eyes about. Either way, looking at his drained and wounded men, Plinius gave the order for them to retreat, killing any thug or disloyal soldier they came across and to carry their injured friends at the cost of the unharmed lives, if not by destiny, then by their own blade.
While the troops started to run away, among horrible screams of crushed humans and thunderous clomping of collapsing pillars and walls, Plinius did not move from his place, making sure everyone of his comrades was taken care of and not forgotten. He then stopped one of Laurentius men and asked him in a hurry:
"Where is the counselor and the dual wielder?"
"They went up investigating the place, from the start of the battle… they were probably looking for their leader…"
"They must have fallen into one of their traps or died, otherwise, that pallbearer would not have joined the fight!"
The asked soldier and another one leaning on him answered in the same hurry. Distress was visible on Plinius's face, as he cast one last look at the slowly yet destructively slumping former palace of justice.