Geilar was the leader of the Vandal war band that had crossed into Raetia. Upon hearing that Alaric and his Gothic horde had occupied Noricum, this ambitious Vandal wanted to test the waters, and see what he could get away with taking for himself. He led a sizeable war-band of two hundred and fifty men into the borders of Raetia to a village near Castra Regina.

His troops were entirely infantry, and most of them were lacking any form of body armor. After all, a mail shirt was worth a small fortune, and it was not easy to get your hands on the kind of coin required to wear such gear. Luckily for him, he was of noble birth and had access to his father’s mail shirt. Because of this, he had superior protection as he marched at the head of his unit into the unsuspecting village.

The moment the vandal horde approached the borders, the roman citizens began to flee for their lives. They did not have the means to stop such a large force of barbarians from ravaging their homes and raping their women. Geilar had a vicious smirk on his face as he wielded a spear in one hand and a round shield in another. He also had a hand axe strapped to his belt to act as a sidearm. The brute thrust the tip of his spear through the body of a frightened farmer, spilling the man’s blood all over the fields as he shouted in his native language.

‘Kill for Wuotan!”

The barbarian war band had descended upon the village and mercilessly butchered every man in sight. As for the women and girls of breeding age, they were dragged to the side and beaten into submission. The barbarians were in the middle of a raid and did not have time to **** them, but the Vandal warriors would surely have their fun with the Roman girls later that night. As a result, they bound the arms and legs of the roman women and kept them under guard as more men rushed into the village, lighting the buildings and fields ablaze while plundering anything remotely of value._.

The attack was as quick as it was brutal, and the barbarian warriors were left unopposed by the villagers. All they could do was flee for their lives and pray that the Vandals didn’t catch up to them. Even the limitanei who were tasked with protecting the land would find it hard to deal with such fearsome warriors.

For a while, it looked like this would be another easy looting of Roman lands. However, while Geiler was in the middle of hacking away at man’s limbs with his hand axe, he heard the sound of a horn blow in the east. This immediately caught his attention as he gazed in horror at the sight of five hundred heavily armored horsemen rushing towards the village. The chi-rho was proudly painted on the Roman shields, displaying what faction had come to the village’s rescue.

The man at the forefront of the cavalry had a red plumed helmet and was clearly a man of a high rank, this high ranking roman couched the lance beneath his arm and charged as fast as he could towards the raiding barbarians until his lance collided with the chest of Geilar and pierced through his mail shirt as if it were nothing, reaping his life in the process. A look of disbelief filled the barbarian’s face as he uttered his last words.

“Impossible!”

With the sudden death of their leader, the Vandals began to panic. Many of them broke ranks and fled. However, how could they possibly compete with the speed of a horse? After Marcellus claimed the leader’s life, a wall of horsemen collided with the Vandals. Many of their lances broke upon impact, and in doing so, claimed the lives of those who were unfortunate enough to be struck.

After shattering their lances, the Cataphracts switched to their sidearms, the full length of their steel blades were unleashed upon their enemies from horseback, who ran for their lives in fear of being slaughtered like pigs. Though a few brave men stood their ground and fought with the cavalry. After all, it was better to die in battle and enter Wuotan’s hall.

Having skewered the leader like a pig, Marcellus adeptly maneuvered his horse through the ranks, using his lance to stick as many of the Vandal warriors as he could. Eventually he noticed one of these men trying to use the length of his spear to claim the life of a cataphract who had lost his lance, in retaliation Marcellus snapped the reins of his horse and charged towards his new target while he couched his spear once more. In a matter of seconds, his lance penetrated through the man’s back and out the other side, sending him to his gods.

What started as a one sided slaughter of the Roman villagers turned into a massacre of the Vandals, who were too few in number to compete with the heavy cavalry that was a force of Cataphracts. Almost as quickly as the battle had begun, so too did it end in an overwhelming Roman victory. Piles of barbarians lie hewn in the mud, as the victims of their crimes spat upon their corpses.

Not a single cataphract had lost his life in the conflict, nor had any of their steeds. Thanks to the heavy armor they were equipped with, they had been completely protected from the Vandals’ attacks. Upon gazing at the scene, Marcellus realized he had arrived late, and because of this, more than a quarter of the village’s residents had been butchered by the Vandals. He quickly dismounted from his horse and approached the group of tied up women where he cut their bindings. A girl younger than Placidia quickly wrapped her arms around Marcellus and thanked him with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you! Thank you for rescuing me!”

Marcellus could not speak. He simply nodded in silence as he freed the rest of the women and girls from their restraints. For many of them, their families had already been slaughtered, and there was nothing left for them here in their hometown. Upon seeing this, Marcellus made a decree.

“Bury the dead and scavenge anything of value from the barbarians. I doubt this is the last we will see of the Vandals.”

His soldiers were quick to act as they fulfilled their orders. While this was happening, Marcellus made a rough estimate of the damages that had been caused to the village, and how much it would cost him to fix. The hardest part was replacing the slain farmers. Homes could be rebuilt, and fields could be resewn. But life, life, was irreplaceable. Sure, he could find someone to fulfill the labor of the men who were slain, but the village would feel the sting of their losses for generations.

Unfortunately, there was not much Marcellus could do about this, raids like these were all too common an occurrence across the west. The most he could do was respond as quickly as possible and pray to Sol Invictus that he could save the lives of some of the villagers.

This time he had arrived in time to save much of the village’s population, but there were still significant losses. He could only sigh after it was over and done, and curse the vandals who took advantage of the dying Empire. Among all the Germanic tribes, the Vandals were among the worst when it came to raiding.

They killed every male, burned down every building, looted all the valuables, and raped all the women and girls. Such things were not uncommon in this era, but the extent that the Vandals engaged in these crimes was staggering.

Having saved what remained of the village, Marcellus assured them he would send some men to help them rebuild what they had lost. He also gave his condolences to the villagers and promised he would be lenient when the tax season came. After all, much of their crops had been burnt in the conflict. For a small farming village like this, that was their only source of income.

After taking care of business, Marcellus and his Cataphracts returned to Castra Regina. If there was one upside about this attack, it was that Marcellus could finally see just how effective the stirrups were in battle. Still, it was a steep price to pay for information. He felt sick to his stomach for even thinking such a thing.

After returning to the villa, Marcellus sulked around for a bit, not having the nerve to continue the conversation he had left off with Sigefrida. He continued to work well into the night until he finally went to bed. The Vandal attack on the village had left a strong sense of resolve in Marcellus’ heart, to do better in the future, and take countermeasures against barbarian raids that were more than just responding to an attack.