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Marcellus sat within his encampment while drinking from a bottle of wine. By now, word had reached him about Ordius’ encounter with the Franks. He was well aware of their intentions to flee, and had calculated for the variable. It was highly likely that Hagen returned to the army and convinced Constantine to break through the mountains, in a desperate gamble to save themselves. However, things weren’t so easy.

Out of his nine legions, eight of them were guarding the major mountain passes, with the last taking up a position higher up in the hills. Regardless of which route Constantine took, there would be two legions to face him, and a third to act as reinforcements.

Now Marcellus did not know the exact numbers of Constantine’s armies, but according to his allies in Hispania the fool had waged an unsuccessful campaign for control of the region and lost most of his army in his vain attempt at pursuing his so-called claim to the Empire.

What was that claim? The soldiers beneath his command considered him a better choice than Honorius, which wasn’t saying much considering a half-wit would make a better candidate for an emperor than that idle fool. Aside from the support of Constantine’s soldiers, the man had no real claim to the throne.

What was Marcellus’ claim? Conquest and marriage. It was infinitely stronger in the eyes of his peers than Constantine’s. From a position of Strength Marcellus forced the Eastern Roman Empire to recognize his rule over the west. Though it was impossible to say how long they would agree to Marcellus being the western emperor, it was better than Constantine, who was unrecognized by everyone but himself.

Whether it was by fate, or sheer bad luck, Hagen led his forces directly to where Marcellus and his personal legions were established. Even the Cataphracts were with their Emperor. In the distance, the Frankish and Gallo-Roman forces gathered, staring in disbelief that the path they had chosen was the one of most fierce resistance. Hagen immediately complained about the situation to his scout._.

“You said this was the easiest path! Does this look like the safest route to you?”

The scout gazed in disbelief. Just a week prior, when he scouted out the paths, there were noticeably fewer troops here. Now it appeared as if the emperor himself was standing in the way of this path. He tried to make excuses for his failures, but since he was a Roman, he was quickly beheaded by Hagen, who held the man responsible for their inevitable failure.

Obviously, the scout had no way of knowing that Marcellus had played him for a fool. Marcellus decided that during his time camped out int he Pyrenees that he would rotate between the encampments. Naturally, his elite guard was right behind him, thus providing these two legions with an extra force.

Constantine gazed in horror as the Frankish chieftain beheaded one of his scouts, but said nothing more. He realized the position he was in. By now, the enemy spotted their army, and even if they turned around, they would not be able to find another route before being intercepted by the soldiers of Hispania. Hagen swiped his bloody blade in the air and flicked the filth onto the ground before boldly making his speech to the men gathered.

“The way is blocked! As are all the others! Before us stands one army, and behind us another. If we wish to survive, then we must break through. Gather your courage, and fight for your survival! Glory or death! Charge!

After saying this, the combined army of Gallo-Roman soldiers and Frankish foederati rushed forwards towards the enemy army without a care in the world. The lack of organizational efforts on the enemy’s behalf immediately surprised Marcellus. There was no method to their madness, just pure chaos.

As for Marcellus, he waved his arm, and the trumpets blared, signalling to his soldiers to form ranks. Marcellus split his army into two legions. Each legion consisted of ten cohorts of infantry split into two columns, with two cohorts of cavalry flanking the infantry, as well as a group of archers in the rear. Each legion had roughly 6,000 men in total and stood as a massive barrier for the enemy to cross through.

While his warriors rushed forward and to their deaths, Hagen stayed at the rear with his elite guard, along with Constantine and what remained of his palatini. The usurper gazed in horror as his army of roughly 7,500 men rushed towards the enemy without a thought in mind. He looked over at Hagen and questioned the man’s stupidity.

“That’s your plan? To charge recklessly into the enemy’s formation! He is using the old Marian system. With such well-equipped forces, our army is doomed. This is going to be a slaughter!”

Hagen glared at Constantine as if he was looking at an utter fool before snapping the reins and riding off. He did not even bother to explain his reasons. Constantine was forced into a situation, follow the Frankish Chieftain, or lead his soldiers to their deaths. Naturally, he chose the former, and instantly rode after the man, along with what little cavalry he had left.

Hagen’s plan was simple: send his army to their deaths, while he and his men rode up a more treacherous path. Though it was narrow and risked being crushed by falling rocks. It was unprotected. Why was it unguarded? Because it was impossible to march an army through the path. However, it was still entirely possible for a few dozen men to safely cross, if they were lucky.

Thus while Marcellus’ army battled the reckless stupidity of Constantine’s forces, the usurper, and his Foederati commander absconded among the chaos. Not realizing that there was another legion in the mountains above waiting to intercept them.

The Frankish warriors charged like rabid hounds towards the roman shieldwall. Arrows and plumbatae alike fell upon them, riddling them with holes, and claiming their lives. Relatively few men wore body armor, and with such overwhelming missile fire it was impossible to block everything.

Despite the deaths of hundreds of men, the remainder of the army boldly charged through the rain of arrows and war darts into the ranks of the enemy. The Gallo-Roman soldiers were completely unaware that their emperor had abandoned them from behind.

To Marcellus, this battle was too easy, and thus he sat back and ordered commands. With the use of flags, he signalled for his front line to slowly recede back into the hills while the flanks surrounded the enemy.

The Cataphracts circled around the hillside and into the rear undefended mob of barbarians and traitors, skewering them with their couched lances. When stuck between a wall of heavy infantry and four cohorts of heavy cavalry, the enemy forces had nowhere to retreat. As men tried to break away from the chaos, they were cut down by the roman spathae.

What was supposed to be a battle turned into a massacre as the Roman forces continued to hold their formation and stab away at the torsos of every enemy they came across. With an oval shield in one hand, and a spatha in the other, the Romans worked like a well-oiled machine as they surrounded the enemy, pushed them back with their shields, and shoved their noric steel blades into the enemy’s abdomens, spilling their guts out onto the floor, along with all the blood and bile their body contained.

Marcellus favored the double envelopment, and against an army that attacked without a care for tactics, it was extremely simple to pull off. Before the usurper’s army even knew it, they were surrounded on all sides and being cut down like a bunch of whelps. Marcellus glared in disdain as he witnessed the fall of the usurper and his army. It turned out he did not even need the support of the soldiers of Hispania.

While his army was being torn asunder, Constantine gazed in horror at the narrow steps above. He was forced to abandon his horse and hug the cliff side, like he had watched Hagen and his men do before him. The path was too narrow and too steep for a mount to trudge through. The man’s heart bled as the army he spent so long cultivating was annihilated without mercy. Hagen, on the other hand, saluted his men as they fell to the Roman blades.

“I will reunite with you all in Wuotan’s hall soon enough!”

Unlike the Gallo-Romans, the Franks knew they were walking into their deaths. Yet they proudly did so. They were more than willing to exchange their lives so that their Chieftain and their most elite soldiers had a chance to escape. Thus, they fought with everything they had to kill as many Romans as possible on their way to the next life.

However, that was easier said than done. The Romans had two layers of protective armor. On the outside was their lorica squamata, which was a thick vest of iron scales. Below this vest was a form of padded armor, akin to a gambeson called a subarmalis. It was made of either quilted leather or textiles. If the Frank’s spears got passed the Roman shields, then they would soon find themselves stopped by this protective barrier.

Thus, despite their best efforts, only a few hundred of Marcellus’ warriors fell in battle. By the time the Usurper’s forces were completely annihilated, Constantine and Hagen were nowhere to be found among the corpses, thus outraging Marcellus as he yelled towards his soldiers to locate his target.

“Where is he? Where is the usurper?”

A centurion who was tasked with checking the corpses shook his head in disbelief as he announced his failure.

“I’m sorry, your majesty, but he is nowhere among the dead…”

Marcellus forcibly calmed his wrath as he issued new orders to his army.

“Send word to all troops to scour the mountains. I want that bastard found, and brought to me alive!”

Thus, a massive manhunt was about to take place in the Pyrenees. As for the dead, those who weren’t a part of Marcellus’ army were left for the wolves.