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Alaric stood within the keep of the stronghold, which he had spent all of his energy defending over the past month. He and his warriors must have sent five thousand romans, and an additional ten thousand Persians, to the afterlife in this siege. Yet, it was not enough. No matter how many men they killed, the enemy kept coming. Until now, Alaric and his most veteran warriors were forced back into the keep.

Those brave souls who defended this Castrum were reduced to a small number as they tore apart the trappings of the keep and used whatever wood they could scavenge to brace the door against the onslaught of their enemies.

The Gothic King sat down on a bench, as a medicus treated his wounds. During this siege, he had sustained several injuries, such as an arrow to the shoulder and a slash across the face. However, he did not let such minor inconveniences halt his defense. Until now, that is.

His most veteran commander had taken over the defense of the keep, as the enemy tried to batter away at its thick wooden door with a battering ram. As the thunderous pounding of the gate echoed in the air, the commander approached his King, and knelt before him with an exasperated expression on his face.

“My King, we are surrounded. There is no way out. We have women and children hiding in this keep. When the gate is torn apart, they will be raped and slaughtered. Is there no other way for them to escape?”

Alaric broke out into a cough, and in doing so spewed out some blood. His face was pale, and his wounds had begun to fester. He knew that even if the Goths were to emerge victorious in this battle, he would die to the infection.

He gazed over towards the women and children who were huddled in the corner, before standing on his two feet. He nearly fell over as he did so, due to how feeble he had become from the illness. Yet, he found his footing, and instantly unleashed his sword from his sheath.

“There is no escape. The enemy has us surrounded here, and in other fortresses. If this war is to be the end of my people, then let us give them such an end that the last stand of the Goths shall be remembered throughout the annals of history! Open the gates and let us die with sword in hand, just like our ancestors!”

The various Gothic warriors, who were exhausted beyond measure, were immediately reinvigorated with this brief speech, and roared their battlecries as they unsheathed their blades. Alaric took a forward position, as he slowly raised his round shield into the air. All while his soldiers tore down the wooden poles which braced against the battering ram.

Within minutes the gates game crashing down, and the Goths formed a shieldwall, without hesitation they fought their last stand, funnelling the eastern Roman army into the small doorway, as the brave warriors of Germania killed as many of the enemy as they could manage.

—

Constantius sat upon his horseback, as he came over the hill, and witnessed the sight of the Roman Castrum being invaded by thousands of soldiers. From where he was standing, he could see the battering ram attacking the gates. He knew in his heart, the keep’s doors would not hold out for long, and when they finally fell, it would be a massacre of Alaric and his people.

He had half a mind to abandon the Gothic King to his fate, and instead search for another fortress under siege that was occupied by romans. Perhaps he could save them from their fate. Just when he was about to turn his army around, the gates opened, where he witnessed the Gothic Shieldwall form, with their swords and spears sticking through the gaps in a desperate last stand, not for survival, but for eternal glory.

He watched in silence for several minutes as the Goths managed to kill hundreds of the Eastern Roman soldiers and their Persian allies. His officers witnessed the fierce battle and gazed down at their feet, unwilling to watch the gruesome end of the Goths. However, as the Eastern Roman soldiers began to break through the Gothic Defenses, one of Constantius officers spoke up.

“Are we just going to let them die? There are women and children in that keep! Don’t tell me we are going to sit here and watch as our allies are butchered like animals?”

Constantius turned his sight to the officer, who had blonde hair and brown eyes, seemingly of half barbarian descent. The man clearly cared for the Goths, or else he would never dare to speak up in front of the Legate.

There was a fierce glint in the man’s eyes as he stared down at his commander. Ultimately, Constantius turned his gaze back to the sight of the battle, and sighed heavily before giving the command to engage the enemy.

“Charge!”

With this said, the Western Roman forces unsheathed their blades and charged down the hillside towards the ruined walls of the fortress, where the eastern Roman Army and their Persian allies had exposed their backsides.

The Western Roman Archers lined up on the hill above the enemy’s position and rained arrows down upon their backs. It came as a sudden shock, as many of the men felt the iron arrowheads pierce through their flesh and enter into their vital organs.

It was only after this first volley was loosed upon the enemy that they realized reinforcements had arrived, and they were not friendly. The Eastern Roman Commander, who had suffered through this siege for nearly a month, called out in fear as he witnessed tens of thousands of western roman forces breach the battered gates of the ruined walls and charge into the fray.

“Behind you! The enemy is behind!”

However, it was already too late. Hundreds of Western Roman Soldiers had entered the courtyard, and sandwiched what remained of the eastern Roman Army in between the keep where the Goths fought for glory, and the western roman ranks. Within a matter of seconds, these hundreds of soldiers became thousands.

The Eastern Roman Commander was horrified when he saw that there was no escape. Attacked on two fronts, they could not adequately defend themselves. Men fell behind him, and in front of him. Forcing him to choose the front to fight on. In the end he chose to fight the Goths. they were fewer in number and if he could wipe them out, he and his forces could use the same tactics as the enemy, and keep the western roman reinforcements at bay.

The Commander charged to the front lines where he began to cut down the Gothic defenders, forcing his way to the front where he came face to face with sickly Alaric. Alaric spat on the man, his spit contained a bloody phlegm which disgusted the eastern roman commander as the two fought in mortal combat.

Alaric gazed into the enemy’s eyes as he swung towards him with his sword. Unfortunately, in his state, he was feeble, because of that, his movements were slow and awkward. Yet this did not deter the Gothic King who fought on for a chance at eternal glory.

The two leaders fought against one another, but it was clear that the eastern roman commander had the upper hand as he played with the weakened Alaric. Before finally driving his sword through the Gothic King’s gut. Despite feeling his life rapidly fly away from his body, Alaric grinned as he pulled out his seax and dug it into the eastern roman commander’s neck.

The look of shock and horror on the enemy’s face as he realized he had fallen into a trap lasted for only a second before he lost consciousness from the rapid blood loss. As for Alaric, he fell to the ground, where his sword was cast away from his reach. He desperately grasped towards the weapon with the last remaining bit of his strength, before finally getting a hold of it and pulling it towards his chest.

Alaric gazed up at the ceiling of the Keep and let out one final prayer. Though not to the Christian God, but to the gods of his ancestors. Realizing on his deathbed that the God he converted to earlier in life had forsaken him.

Perhaps it was the illusion of a dying man, but Alaric could have sworn after saying his prayer to the old gods, he witnessed the sight of valkyries descending to his side, and lifting his spirit into the air. The Gothic King had died a warrior’s death and had earned his place in Wuotan’s hall.

As for the rest of his warriors, they had not been given the luxury to witness their King’s last stand, and instead continued to fight the Eastern Roman Army and their Persian allies. However, with the enemy trapped between two allied forces, the battle did not last long. In the end, Western Rome and their Gothic Foederati emerged victorious at this one castrum. However, there were several more that were in desperate need of reinforcements.