Mars' Son

Marcus Licius Scallus smelled the camp a mile away, the stench of men and beasts almost unbearable. The eight legions, all camped in the same area. Two Iberian legions, four legions from Gaul, a Makedonian legion, then the Illyrian legion.
Mounted on his black horse, Scallus watched the final two legions, the Illyrian and Makedonian legions, march from the pass to camp. The mountains reared upwards, covered in pines or fir trees. Pontus was a nice enough place. The valley's held their own tribes, each angry at the next, blood-feuds so deep, it was a ocean. Now, the Roman Senate had seen to it that the Romans conquered this land.

The Pontus king, Spitridates the Devious, had combed every trader that came within eye-sight of his lands. Romans were no exception. Now that wheat was flowing south from Thracia, it had to cross the Mare Euxinius, a Pontus pond. Angered by such an outrage, the Senate was finally pressured into an assault. Launching the fourteen veteran legions from Thracia, Scallus was general of eight, two were maritime legions, securing Byzantium. Another legion was an auxilia from Batavia, horsemen who swept the valleys with their steeds. Then three were in Armenia, combining with the auxilia there, the horsemen and archers, sweeping down the Trebozoind coast.

Scallus knew his command was special. Three legions would strike Nicomedia, then Sinope, then Mazaka. Two would march to Ancrya, and the southern cities, conquering them. The final three were marching through the mountain passes to Cicilia, sealing off any Seleucid help. They were however, a day from Nicomedia, the branching off point for his command.

The sun was golden as it set.