Rome Must Perish
Chapter 164 - 117: The Riot in the Supply Camp_2

Chapter 164: Chapter 117: The Riot in the Supply Camp_2

"Roar!!!" The guards raised their arms and roared.

Most of the soldiers in the Guard had been brought over by Pequot from the defeated remnants of Enomai’s forces. Maximus had appointed them as his guards, partly to win hearts and minds, and partly for ease of governance. After all, they had been accustomed to the lax discipline of Enomai’s army and would certainly struggle to adapt to the strict regulations of Maximus’s forces at the beginning.

And indeed, that was the case. Over the past month, they had caused some disturbances, leading many soldiers from the three legions to regard them with strange looks, secretly calling them "barbaric outsiders," which left them holding a deep grudge and eager to prove themselves.

Watching the 600 soldiers of the Guard, armed relatively well, charge aggressively toward the northwest, Flanitnus muttered in a low voice, "After a month in the cage, the hunting dogs are finally unleashed! Hopefully, they will prove useful..."

Maximus felt a bit nervous; there were simply too few members in the Guard.

"If they only block the breach and hold the riverbank, there shouldn’t be a problem. The concern is if they get too eager for merit and adopt an active offensive strategy, chasing the enemy into the rivers..." Quintus’s warning prompted Maximus to make an immediate decision, "Akegu! Keep an eye on Pequot for me and constantly remind him to hold the riverbank and not stray far away!"

"Understood!"

Watching the attendant sprint away, Maximus instinctively murmured to himself, "I wonder where Spartacus and his reinforcements are now?"

Quintus and Flanitnus exchanged a glance but said nothing. They could see Maximus’s tension and unease: in truth, a young man not yet 20 years old commanding such a large-scale, life-and-death battle, amidst a thunderous battlefield filled with bloodshed and chaos, receiving all sorts of good and bad news one after another, and still managing to maintain such composure—his performance was already quite remarkable.

"Report, leader, bad news! Mateninum City has mobilized troops!" A scout raced in from the east.

Maximus’s heart sank sharply.

Flanitnus was the first to ask, "How many? Infantry or cavalry?"

"Approximately six to seven hundred, all of them infantry."

Quintus immediately suggested, "Leader, this should be the City Guard of Mateninum, with weak combat capabilities. Let the remaining members of the Guard and Hagux’s cavalry take care of them, aiming for a quick resolution!"

Maximus took a deep breath, steadied his emotions, and then nodded to Quintus, beginning to issue orders.

.....................

Sistos cautiously lifted the tent flap and peeked outside.

"Hey! Who allowed you to come out? Get back into the tent, or you’ll be sorry!" A middle-aged man wielding a spear spotted him from afar and shouted harshly.

Sistos quickly ducked back inside.

Immediately, several other blacksmiths in the tent surrounded him, whispering anxiously, "What’s going on outside now?"

"Has the Roman Army won?"

"Are those rebels about to flee?"

...

"Everyone stop talking, do you want to attract those rebels here?" Sistos glared, and the tent fell silent instantly.

"I took a look outside. The people guarding us in the camp are still there and haven’t relaxed." As soon as Sistos said this, the surrounding people became visibly dejected.

"However—" Sistos raised his voice a notch: "I noticed that outside the camp, there are barely any soldiers left by the rebel leader."

An elderly blacksmith who had served in the military during his younger days spoke thoughtfully, "We peeked before—the rebel leader had over 1,000 soldiers around him. Now it seems they’ve moved to the east... Remember the sounds of fighting we just heard from the east? Mateninum City is in that direction."

"The Mateninum people have dispatched troops!"

"Not necessarily; it could be the Roman Army landing at Mateninum Port."

"Either way, these rebels are completely surrounded and will soon be crushed by the Roman Army. We’ll regain our freedom soon!"

"You’re thinking too simplistically," Sistos said with a bitter smile. "Once the Romans crush the rebels, I’m afraid we won’t gain freedom—we might even be killed or enslaved instead."

"How is that possible?!"

"Based on my experience serving in the Roman Army, it’s very possible!" The elderly blacksmith replied gravely, "Once the rebels collapse, the situation will turn chaotic. Without ample time to prove that we aren’t rebels, and without the Romans having the patience to distinguish, it’d be simplest if they just kill everyone."

"Then... what should we do?" The other blacksmiths began to panic.

"We can’t just sit here waiting for the rebels to lose. We must break out now! Charge out of the camp and head toward Mateninum City. As long as we reach there, we should be safe!" Sistos clenched his fists and said firmly.

"That’s too dangerous! Even without the 1,000 guards, there are still hundreds of soldiers watching over the camp!"

"Those people are hardly soldiers! They’re just older laborers temporarily pulled from their so-called ’supply camp.’ Without armor, shields, or short swords, just holding simple spears and sticks—there’s nothing to fear!"

Sistos flexed his burly and powerful muscles, characteristic of a blacksmith’s strength, and said in a rallying voice, "What’s more, there are thousands of people in this camp. Most of us are Sarabians, many of whom don’t want to join the rebels and were forced to. At this moment, they probably share the same thoughts as us, but they’re just waiting for someone to take the lead. If we stir them up, we could cause chaos in the camp and escape easily!"

The blacksmiths hesitated and wavered.

Finally, someone gritted his teeth and said, "Staying here could mean death; trying to escape could also mean death. If we might die anyway, why not fight against the rebels!"

His words prompted the others to agree one by one.

After they reached an agreement, Sistos walked to a corner of the tent, where someone was lying down.

Sistos kicked him rudely and said, "Kadesos, get up!"

Kadesos slowly opened his eyes with a puzzled look and asked, "Sistos, what’s going on?"

Sistos stared at him coldly, "Don’t pretend to be asleep—I know you heard everything we said. I’ll ask you just once: Will you join us?"

"I..." Kadesos was reluctant to oppose the rebel army. In his heart, he understood one thing clearly: He was entirely different from these blacksmiths. They were either Sarabians or freedmen and had lived decent lives earning high wages from their craft in workshops. Now that they were forced to join the rebel army, they naturally held resentment.

But he, on the other hand, despite being favored by his former master, had never escaped his status as a lowly slave. Being ordered, scolded, or beaten was a regular part of life, something he’d grown accustomed to. It wasn’t until the rebel army captured Sarabia that he was made the workshop overseer, discussing matters with him and even seeking his opinion—he felt freedom and respect for the first time. Daily conversations with the rebels had gradually made him realize that he and the rebel soldiers were truly on the same side. Why did he have to be assigned to share a tent with these bastards?

Facing Sistos’s menacing glare, although Kadesos was intimidated, he mustered the courage to advise, "Free Italy will not lose. Their main forces are almost here—you shouldn’t make any foolish moves."