Storms on the Horizon 1/2

Several days later, on the vast grassland, dozens of giant blue wolves, facing the rising sun, pulled a wooden animal cage mounted on a cart, speeding towards the front of the main tent, and came to a steady stop. They lay down on the ground, vying to gnaw on the scraps of meat and bones thrown out by a few young shamans.

"Your Majesty, the Dragon Beast you requested for transportation has been delivered."

The old shaman, holding a rattan staff, came to the front of the shaman's tent and respectfully transmitted his voice to those inside.

A moment later, with a suspicious slurping sound, Attila lifted the curtain and stepped out, looking at the caravan with a lingering gaze. Her eyes fell on the animal cage, and she couldn't help but frown slightly.

"Only one?"

"Uh, this is the third batch. We've almost caught Wyvern in the area."

The old shaman coughed lightly, then skillfully pulled a sharpened wooden stick from his pocket, picked his teeth, and spat out a lump of dark brown muscle. The wrinkles on his face relaxed with satisfaction, and his gaze toward the Wyvern in the cage held a different kind of "friendliness" and "affection."

The meat here is pretty good, firm and delicious, but it's a bit chewy.

The Wyvern in the cage seemed to sense the hidden malice around it. It flapped its wings violently, stirring up a gale, and opened its mouth to let out a sharp, defiant cry.

However, as a slender figure approached, its scarlet pupils swept over, and the Wyvern in the cage shuddered, like a rooster being strangled by a butcher. Its screech stopped abruptly, and its massive body shrank into a corner, trembling.

"The taste from last time still wasn't right, this one..."

Attila circled the cage, scrutinizing the Wyvern before her, stroking her smooth chin and muttering to herself.

"Your Majesty, we can try this later. We don't have much time, so you should hurry on your way."

Upon hearing this, the old shaman solemnly advised him and then ordered his men to open the cage.

Although Attila was still reluctant to give up, she had no choice but to abandon the idea.

Just as the Xiongnu king was approaching the prison cart, the Wyvern, its desire for food aroused, immediately stirred its ether, flapped its wings, and took flight, soaring into the air.

Hiss hiss hiss!

However, before the Dragon Beast could escape, dark red halos immediately converged and tightened from mid-air, firmly encircling the slender neck of the Wyvern. The intense pain from its soul caused the Dragon Beast to wail and fall to the grassland, crashing into the ground and creating a deep crater, where it remained motionless.

Ha, the roasted lamb is already licking its lips, and it still wants to run away!

The old shaman grinned, revealing his yellow, sleazy teeth. He raised his hand, drawing a wisp of energy from around Attila and channeling it into the vine staff that controlled the restriction. He chanted incantations, and a jet-black mark appeared on the Wyvern's forehead.

He didn't die from the fall...

Attila gazed wistfully into the deep pit, watching the enormous creature gradually begin to move, a hint of regret appearing in her eyes.

Soon, the Wyvern, its eyes regaining their clarity, climbed out of the deep pit, sniffed the air, and ran to Attila in small steps. Like a docile wolfhound, it respectfully lowered its head and gently rubbed the silver-haired girl's hand, showing complete submissiveness.

"May the heavens above grant Your Majesty a triumphant return!"

The Hun soldiers who stepped forward set up the saddle and reins for the Dragon Beast, and the old shaman led his people to kneel down respectfully and offer their blessings to the king who was going to war.

With a whooshing sound, the two figures, one human and one dragon, gradually disappeared into the distance on the horizon.

When I found her, she was only this small. Time flies.

The old shaman gazed at the black dot gradually disappearing from view in the distance, feeling quite emotional. But the moment he turned back with his staff, his aura sharpened and his gaze became piercing.

"How are the preparations going over there?"

"Great Shaman, as you instructed, our people set off three days ago, and currently 70% of them are in place!"

A Chinese man with his hair tied in a braid stepped forward, pounded his chest with his right fist, and responded solemnly.

The old man nodded in satisfaction, looked up at the sky where dark clouds had gathered, and murmured meaningfully to himself.

The world is about to change...

At this time, the border of the Roman Seventh Province.

Hundreds of Celtic cavalrymen, dressed in light armor and carrying shields, short swords, javelins, and longbows in a rather incongruous manner, rode two horses each, divided into two teams on the left and right, guarding a central carriage as it moved forward steadily.

It's going to rain...

Samael looked up at the low, leaden clouds above, sensing the dampness in the air, frowned slightly, and nodded to the Centurion in the ranks.

The Roman veteran, whose face now bore a scar that added to his fierce and rugged appearance, nodded respectfully, spurred his horse, and spurred it on towards the towering, rugged line in the distance.

It was a city wall made of gray rocks, standing on a stretch of mountains, nearly 100 kilometers long, about 4.6 meters high, 3 meters wide at the base, and about 2.1 meters wide at the top, with fortresses, watchtowers and so on built on it.

The city wall was surrounded by moats on its north and south sides, each about 3 meters deep and 9 meters wide. The southern moat was further from the city wall, with a high earthen fort on each side. A military road ran between the earthen fort and the city wall.

The northern moat is closer to the city wall, but it is deeper and wider. There are no high earthen forts on either side, and there is an inner fort built about every 3 kilometers along the city wall.

Each fort can accommodate about 60 people, and there are two towers between two forts, which serve as outposts.

According to custom, if there was an enemy threat, the defenders could quickly use fire as a signal and relay it along the wall. Because of this, some soldiers were stationed on the Great Wall, but most of the troops were stationed on the south side of the wall.

A cursory glance reveals that there are 20 fortresses built along the entire section of the city wall, complete with command posts, barracks, granaries, hospitals, temples, and other buildings.

A fortress can accommodate more than 1,000 soldiers, so this garrison, including cavalry and infantry, had more than 20,000 people and was the garrison of the Seventh Legion, but this does not include military dependents and the settlers of various ethnic groups who migrated here.

The saying goes, "If ten times the enemy's strength, surround them; if five times, attack them."

Therefore, once the war potential of this defensive line is fully unleashed, under normal circumstances, it would take three to five times the number of troops to even begin to take on this tough nut.

This is the Great Wall built by Rome by mobilizing the nation's resources. This single line of defense made the Celts and Hunnic Wolf Riders sigh in despair, finding it difficult to cross easily.

"I am Aurus, the Centurion of the 300th Company. I was ordered to carry out an escort mission half a month ago. Now that Lord Nero has reached an alliance with the Britain and Celts is willing to be incorporated into the Empire, my mission is complete. I have come to report back. Please open the gate and allow the team to enter."

The Centurion, riding close to the city wall, raised the Claudius banner and calmly addressed the wall amidst a hail of arrows aimed at him.

According to the standard Roman Legions organization, the entire army consisted of 10 cohorts. Each cohort included 3 platoons, each platoon was further divided into 2 centurions, and each centurion consisted of 100 men.

There are no dedicated company commanders or battalion commanders in the legion; the Centurion are responsible for the legion's military operations. The 60 Centurion in a legion are ranked in order of authority, with the first Centurion of the first company of the first battalion being called the "chief Centurion," the highest-ranking Centurion in the legion. In the event that the legion's command headquarters is destroyed, he will be in charge of commanding the legion's operations.

Therefore, Centurion were the backbone of the Roman Legions, with a very high skill ceiling and floor.

The third-ranked team is not only a reflection of the team's position, but also a symbol of individual ability.

Soon, a group of guards on the city wall recognized the Centurion, lowered the basket, and placed the warrant personally signed by Nero Centurion.

As the officer on the lookout tower carefully reviewed the insignia and contents of the warrant, the sound of the winch turning followed, and the tightly closed door creaked and slowly lowered.

The Centurion felt a sense of relief and waved his hand behind him. The Celtic cavalry and the carriage carrying Nero slowly approached.

However, just as everyone was preparing to enter the city, a commotion broke out on the city wall. The city gate, which was about to open, closed again, and a figure in a dark red-trimmed purple robe appeared on the crenellation, looking down mockingly. This caused the Centurion to frown.

Samael gazed intently at the robust, prematurely balding Chinese man standing at the top of the wall. Based on Nero's description, he quickly identified the man before him.

The person in charge of this defensive line is Quintus, who is also the current supreme commander of the Seventh Legion.

This is the man who was flirting with the wicked woman in Rome, their attitudes ambiguous.

If we happen to run into this guy personally inspecting the area, we're in trouble.

Since that's the case...

Amidst the raging sandstorm, the Ancient Serpent, Boudica, and Brunhilde exchanged glances and nodded in tacit agreement, their answers unspoken.