At the moment, Marcellus was within the city of Rome, standing inside his villa, where his agents reported to him the latest intelligence of the ongoing war in Illyricum. Nearly two weeks had passed since the conflict begun, and Alaric had expertly held off the enemy during this time.

The superior ranged weapons that were in the hands of the western roman empire were not an easy hurdle to cross for the east. The use of crossbows with armor piercing bolts had sent more than 10,000 eastern roman, and Sassanid soldiers to the grave within the first two weeks of combat. Yet compared to the hundreds of thousands of men that were at the command of Yazdegerd, this was a paltry sum.

Marcellus, on the other hand, had roughly 150,000 men in total beneath his command. About one third of which were actual roman citizens. The rest were Foederati from the various Germanic tribes, mostly Goths and Suebi.

However, unlike Yazdegerd, Marcellus could not bring forth the full might of his army into Illyricum. Battles were still being waged on the frontiers of his borders against Germanic tribes, and Italia was under threat of the eastern roman fleet.

Thus, Marcellus could spare no greater than 50,000 men to march into Illyricum and confront the eastern roman forces in the field. Though he would not personally lead them, after all, he was waiting for the invasion of Italia, where he would mount the defense of the Roman heartland against the invaders from the east.

Thus, for the meantime, he could only delegate command of his forces to another. Constantius was standing by Marcellus’s side. He and his legions had been recalled from their area of responsibility and now were waiting orders. Marcellus gazed upon one of his more promising military talents and placed a hand on his shoulder as he issued his command.

“Flavius Constantius, I am giving you command of the forces which shall march into the Diocese of Illyricum in an attempt to drive the eastern romans, and their Persian lovers out of the region. After I have crushed Yazdegerd’s army in Italia, I will sail to the diocese of Dacia and unleash a two prong invasion of the east. I must know before I give you the orders. Are you ready for such a terrible responsibility?”

Constantius sighed heavily and reflected on his service up until this point. Initially, he was one of the few capable generals beneath Honorius, other than Marcellus. In fact, he truly believed if it was he who marched into Gaul to put down Constantine III, he would not have failed. Despite this, Marcellus was defeated, shamed, and exiled to the frontier. Where he raised a rebellion and overthrew the previous emperor.

Initially, he held a disdain for Marcellus. After all, the man was nothing more than another usurper. However, as time passed and Marcellus slowly stabilized the declining empire. Causing Constantius to grow rather hopeful about this new despot. Eventually, Constantius was promoted to the rank of Imperial Legate and given control over a Diocese. Something he felt as if he had not earned. After all, he was not among Marcellus’ loyal followers during the man’s brief rebellion.

To be tasked with 50,000 men to march against a hostile horde of well over double that number was no easy request. In fact, it was borderline suicide. How was he supposed to break the enemy’s sieges with such a paltry force? Despite this, Constantius wondered if he could emerge victorious. After all, his men were equipped with superior arms and armor, and had gone through brutal training to ensure that they were fit for combat.

The young Imperial Legate sat there for several moments in silence, debating whether he should accept this position, or flee to some far-flung corner of the world. Though the war had only just begun, he knew it was not as simple as Marcellus made it out to be. The Eastern Roman Army was testing Marcellus’ defenses. They had not fully committed their troops to the war just yet.

If five hundred thousand eastern romans, supported by another hundred or two thousand Sassanids, truly marched on western Rome with the intent of total conquest, the fortresses established across the realm would only hold out for so long. There simply weren’t enough soldiers in the Western Roman Army to emerge victorious.

Marcellus had made a gamble, providing the best arms, armor, and training available to his troops. Functioning under the theory of quality over quantity, and while this may work against the barbarian hordes who dares to cross the border. It was not the same for the Eastern Romans and their Sassanid allies.

Despite the precarious position Western Rome now found itself in, Constantius ultimately sighed heavily before nodding his head and accepting the honor of leading Western Rome’s legions in a desperate attempt to break the ongoing sieges within Illyricum.

“Very well, it is an honor that I believe is undeserved, but if you think I am the most suitable man for the job, then I will undertake this endeavor, and I will do it with the same determination that I always have when I wage war, and that is to fight until the very last. The Eastern Roman Empire thinks that they can destroy us, but it will be I who show them who is truly destroyed in the end. For the glory of Rome, and its emperor, I shall do everything in my power to defeat our enemies!”

Marcellus smiled when he heard this and nodded his head thrice before patting Constantius on the back and complimenting the man. All the while reassuring him that Death was not always final.

“Victory or Death, those are the only two options we have available to us all. If you should die honorably on the battlefield, then I promise we shall one day meet again in the Elysian Fields.”

In response to this, Constantius broke out into laughter before questioning his emperor for his religious proclivities. There had long since been rumors that Marcellus was a godless heathen, but he had always denied these claims. However, just now, he practically admitted them to be true. Despite being christian Himself, Constantius held no grudge against the pagans and merely laughed at this revelation with humorous intent.

“So it’s true, you really are a pagan? Well, I must say, although I don’t necessarily approve of your beliefs, it has been the greatest honor fighting under your banner for what little time I have done so. Very well, if I should die on the battlefield, I shall be waiting for you in Elysium with a pitcher of wine at the ready.”

After saying this, the two men shared a laugh before Constantius departed. Marcellus dearly hoped he had put his eggs in the right basket, because if his dreams had taught him anything, it was that Constantius was a very capable general.

As for Yazdegerd, he would deploy his Magister Militum Durio to Illyricum to meet Constantius in battle. Whereas the Sassanid King would reserve his own forces for the invasion of Italia. Yazdegerd wanted to taste Marcellus’ blood himself, and he would not allow Durio to steal that right from him. Thus, two weeks after the start of the Roman-Byzantine War, the conflict had reached a new level of intensity.