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Publius Of Petrus

Publius

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Publius    3666

Publius
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Publius Bracchus - An Autobiography of a Military Officer and Orator

 

I am Publius.

 

As I write this on the 16th of Snow's Maiden, 1500, I am 32 years old. In case this booklet is to end up in the hands of those unfamiliar to me, know that I am a human man, currently serving the nation of Oren in whichever way I can, but officially as a Lieutenant in the 2nd Akovian Regiment of the Orenai legion.

 

This booklet is separated in a certain order, and are as follows:

Self Description: Physical

Self Description: As a Person

My Life, Before Service

My Life, Since Service

 

Self Description: Physical

 

So you may be able to better picture who you're even reading about, I'll have you know that I stand just short of 6 feet tall without my boots, or hair. I would say I'm more on the slim side, but boast a healthy weight of 165 pounds. My hair is brown, as are my eyes, albeit a darker shade. Being a 9 year veteran of the Orenai legion, I could not imagine myself being in better physical shape, especially considering that I have yet to sustain a crippling injury of any sort. I personally have few things of great monetary value, as I have served Oren without payment for several years, and have donated what I do make to Duke Vanir, in hopes that it will better fair Oren. I do however, retain a great deal of building supplies, and battle equipment.

 

Self Description: As a Person

 

To first describe myself by my values, I would first look to my personality. Though it is hard to judge one's self fairly, I would say that I am at every level of my being loyal, but ferociously ambitious. I am kind, but when provoked, suffer from a short temper, only worsened by impassioned speech. I am moved to apologize to many who are not familiar with me and have my words used aggressively against them: I swear to the Creator that I can not help being so quick to zealous speech.

 

I also believe I am polite, and well mannered. Though my temper may fail me in times of great grief or anger around those of higher status, I pride myself in my servile attitude, and good service to the men and women of Oren. I feel though that this hurts me in a sense though: I can not bring myself to the cut throat politics that would give me status, and true de jure power, but alas, would a man be worth anything if he could not secure his power and respect honorably? I believe not.

 

As perhaps what could be assumed, I am a Canonist, though I believe that I am better rehearsed than most on the subject. I grieve deeply at the loss of any life, not including those of evil hearts and ill wills. I am often appalled by the fruits of my brothers-in-arm’s rage and zeal bear, but there is little I can do about it I feel, so I do my best to make sure the innocent are protected and well looked after. This is especially true in regards to the poor wood elves, persecuted in a blind rage by my fellow man. I pray that they understand, and I try my best to make amends for our actions against them and their ilk.

 

I pride myself in what I consider good, lawful values. Nothing has been able to shake them since my younger years. Despite not having the most praiseworthy roots, I am proud at what a man they have made me.

 

My Life, Before Service

 

I was born to Idas and Augusta Bracchus on the western edge of the current Duchy of Akovia. Out there, we had a manor, and I was surrounded at all times by over a dozen of my siblings and workers. It was a beautiful place, but one filled with hard work day in and out.

 

My father was uneducated, but like to fashion himself as some sort of noble. We did not own a great track of land, or even lord over a number of peasants, with only farmers and artisands living on our land, but he chose to call himself “Baron Idas of Alras.” In hindsight, I’d probably arrest a man like him for impersonating nobility, but at least we had much to show for our labours.

 

I learned a good deal about farming and mechanics, but far more about rhetoric, philosophy, and theology. Any time I should have been apart of the harvest, I was usually at the table, being instructed on my manners and etiquette. A lot of my education was only made relevant by the company my father fought hard to keep: A series of actual knights, barons, churchmen and the rest. All was well, but we were driven off the land nearly a decade ago by surrounding landlords, and I have only recently reconnected with two of my brothers: Argos and Maximus. I try not to think about it, as I can only imagine the clouds of smoke coming from my home rose to the sky alongside the souls of my family...

 

I spent perhaps a month in Karovia before I set off for Petrus, and at Petrus, I was quickly approached by what was then Oren’s Lord Treasurer and Lord Justicar: Lord Lothar Balian III. We chatted briefly, and he whisked me off to meet Lieutenant Richard Reyne, and I began my long and proud service to Oren.

 

My Life, Since Service

 

I joined the regiment in 1491, and was quickly given the rank of Man-at-Arms, rather than being made a draftee, with my manners and the rest apparently being so outstanding, that they felt it inappropriate to have me set at that rank.

My early service largely consisted of me becoming familiar with the Oren I served, and meeting those I would be serving with. It also was met with me zealously recruiting for it, and soon nearly half the registered men had joined at my prodding. My service was well noticed, but my inexperience in the nations workings got me in trouble: Not knowing the army was not centralised, when I was offered a position in the garrison over in Leuvaarden, I explained my I was already apart of a regiment, and would need transferring. The man who took me in explained that it would all be taken care of, and I was given a bunk. It only took me that night to realise the mistake I had made, and I went back to Petrus. Lieutenant Reyne exploded upon finding out, and we marched towards Leuvaarden. I scrambled to explain it was largely my mistake, but he only listened when a witness explained it to him. Embarrassed, he marched us back, and I was wary that I may have hurt my position in the regiment, though I would soon find out it was just a trivial drama that I happened to create.

 

In 1494, my service intensified as we marched alongside the High Elves against those willing to defend Leyulin, the Dwarves and Wood Elves, specifically. I regret this battle in hindsight, but my involvement is as follows:

 

We rallied in Petrus at dawn. We stood in file as men returned from patrols, and slowly, mustered until there was no men outside of our group. We were given a small, half hearted speech, but we were marched out to meet what was possibly the largest assembly of people ever gathered in history: The Orenai Legion. Orders were called out all around us, and it soon became apparent that we were more than ready for what we faced. Petrus was overflowing with troops, and soon we surged onto the main road, not marching, but half charging to where we were to be stationed. This lack of organization has improved over the years, but I am of the belief that this is somewhat healthy: The anxiety many of the men feel is eased in this rush, and charging out like a warband has always got us to our destinations quickly.

 

We soon were outside Haelun’or and met with some of their men. I laugh at the thought that I actually was impressed by their stature and appearance in hindsight, as they are disgusting and treacherous fools, as recent history proves. They were dumbstruck by our numbers, as I was, and soon talk began about explosives. I knew nothing of such devises, but this day would teach me everything I needed to know…

 

Scouts from the Silver City reported that Leyulin had be evacuated, and the armies of our enemies were underground, in a grand underground fort. The trap was obvious, and we began destroying the town as we thought about what we would do. A solution came to mind after a while: Use the explosives to blow up the ground into their fort, and pray we don’t just fall into a trap. The idea spun my head, and to see it executed was more head spinning. When we made it down, some resistance was met, but our numbers saw to the end of anyone who came to reinforce the defences. Men from all the regiments and levies began to descend into the caverns, raving madly about Dwarves they wished to kill, and spitting with fury the things they would do to them. One would forget that this war was between the High Elves and Wood Elves if they were to see this battle.

The tunnel fighting is the most intense I have ever faced. Traps were everywhere, and parallel tunnels we set up alongside every tunnel we used, housing many men that would cut us down at our feet, and finish us off as we hit the floor. Traps were everywhere, and many men were burned to death in acid, or the magma. Terror was in the hearts and minds of many of those fighting, but it only drove us harder against our enemies. After a quick debate, explosives were used against the walls of the tunnels, and thankfully only revealed the dwarves’ postions. They retreated again, but this time, to far better ground, and left us to charge an open bridge, watching it with archers.

 

We had cleared out many tunnels in the most intense battle that housed archers, and many “balconies” of sorts we either blown up or raided by the men, but we had no way to reach these.

 

A group of men huddled by the opening to the bridge, often getting struck down by arrows. The Wood Elves made their wrath known here, as they and the dwarves shot furiously at the men preparing. Fire back was weaker, but effective, and the vastly outnumbered Wood Elves were soon not enough to shoot dead the grand army we brought.

 

A shout rang out above the men, demanding a charge. Some were all too eager, heading off before the numbers could ensure success, and were mostly lost. When the army stormed though, the wall of Dwarves collapsed, if for no other reason than the weight of the mass of men against them. Soon, the area was cleared, and bodies were dumped in droves into the lava pools under the bridge.

 

I did not notice the stench until that night after celebrations, so overjoyed were we to slay these men and women. In hindsight, it was a grand shame, but proved Oren’s ultimate military superiority, and was openly acknowledged by the Silver City in a public address concerning the battle.

 

Though I fought in many more battles in the ensuing Uru-Orenian war, I feel it inappropriate to spoil the contents of my book to be on the subject. I will say though, that battles were never so evenly matched again, as no fort as great was ever constructed afterwards.

 

In my service, I rose to be a Sergeant in a few measly years because of my intensive and valuable service. In my time as a Sergeant, I began to lead men formally, passing on my manners to them as my tudors did myself. Though we were not a force that was too noteworthy in battle for the time being, we were respectable, and did our best to uphold the laws and morals of Oren in our service, and acted only in her interests. We proved this especially in 1496, when a major dispute broke out over the poor attitudes, disrespect and even immoral law breaking allegedly perpetrated by the Order of St. Amyas. Though the squabbling may have been about something more petty, the response was an overwhelming and resounding desire for blood to be spilt. Our Duke of Akovia, then acting Lord Regent, Vasili Vanir, explained that this could easily be solved through discussion and questioning, but many would not have it for a second.

 

This meeting was held in the castle/estate of the up and coming house Dystov. Every lord offended and his men were there, seething with rage and calling to the sky for retribution. Duke Vanir was clear to these men that the situation would be handled, and to cool their passions while they think of reasonable terms to be sent. This talk went on for hours, until finally they grumbled approval for Duke Vanir to go and look into the issue.

 

Escorting him to Leuvaarden, he explained aloud the necessity of unity, and how humanity had fallen from grace so many times because of infighting. I found my passions completely cooled upon our arrival. Waiting outside, he soon entered to talk.

 

Things took a sharp turn for the worst quickly after.

 

Turning to the right of the keep, we suddenly seen men from house Montfort, then of nearly all the lands of Oren spilling out around the keep, calling loudly again for heads to roll and retribution. A knight quickly locked the gates, and yelled back horrified that this would not stand.

 

My men were confused and near panicked, looking to me for direction. I took to calling to the other lords first, asking them to sheathe their weapons and take heed to reason, but it was not the time to ask for that. First, I ordered my men to the end of the bridge, and to form a line to prevent any more from crossing, but decided to send the across it, and reform there.

 

I stood on that bridge, begging the men of Oren to come across with me, and to wait for a verdict before they acted so wildly against the men of Leuvaarden’s keep. Some hotly debated why they could not join us across the bridge, and I took to zealous speech denouncing barbaric means of persuasion. Only after Constantine Dystov crossed himself, did men and women fall in behind the regiments line and air their grievances, rather than rattle their swords.

 

A proud moment, it was.

 

Following that day though, Richard Reyne went missing, and soon, I took on more and more of his old responsibilities. I soon found myself promoted to his old rank, and found myself more and more often in the company of nobility, a pen in hand, and my feet on improvised stages. I have since taken to airing my opinion on many matters, and doing more to better Oren on a grander scale. Currently, my pen is mostly used to write military reforms, something I am proud to do, alongside my long time friend and comrade Jace Evans.

 

Though my life and service has not even been half described, what there is to really know about me, I feel I have put words to. Though someday I might write more on myself, I feel myself bored to tears at what I’ve done, compared to things to come.

 

Despite the horrors of the world, I await my future with honest excitement, and I pray that someday, I as a person am a subject of interest. Until then though, I shall be writing reforms and histories, while praying for the happiness service afford me.

 

(If there's interest, I can post more autobiographical stuff on major events, but otherwise, I'll just write history. Thanks for reading!)

Edited by Publius
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excited    10833

excited
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'The Hound' Rom Visconti moves a hand to bash his own breastplate, before elevating it in a salute. "Deus Magnus Dominus, long live Petrus." 

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