The Plains of Pluto
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 3
Athens, Greece
Ramirus questioned the reasoning for holding this meeting in this particular bouleuterion with the temperatures descending as they were. He had seen such buildings in other parts of Greece, particularly northern Epirus, where the sides of the building were at least enclosed, offering more protection from the elements. But here in Athens, it had open sides that offered no such comfort. Perhaps it was to allow people to see their politicians at work, or perhaps it was because of the somewhat warmer climate of the Aegean, but he had to say he preferred the northern Greeks’ choice of building styles.
This was looking to be a particularly harsh winter, and the wind coming off the ocean felt like it was cutting him to the bone as it whipped through the semicircular meeting house.
He understood it was tradition and, in moments of crisis like this, people tended to cling to such notions. But he was an old man, and he could do with a little more insulation and a little less tradition.
It could be worse. At least here, there was a roof. They could have chosen one of the open-air amphitheaters for this meeting.
The weather did not keep the Greeks away, however, and the building was packed with delegates from across southern Greece. Ramirus had already met several of them in the ongoing negotiations and recognized the Athenian and Spartan representatives with central places at the bottom of the rows of stone seats, center to all of the other men gathered there.
He also appreciated that, against tradition, they had placed a stool for him to sit on at the central spot facing the gathered men. As a younger man, Ramirus had prided himself on his ability to stand and speak for hours, defending Lucilla’s father in the various political fights that were his primary battleground.
Those days were far behind him and Ramirus’s knees now protested after a short walk across a room. He patted the legionary loaned to him by Modius, who had accompanied him down the difficult steps to his assigned place, sending the man back up to the top to wait for his time to leave.
He was a good boy, but Ramirus didn’t need a uniformed man standing at his shoulder as he tried to negotiate with people afraid of giving away their power or sovereignty to a foreign power. Even if it meant their own safety.
Ramirus sat, looking at the men for a moment. He did not need dramatics to get their attention, but he wanted more than that. He wanted their focus, and a moment’s silence had a way of doing that.
“Honored representatives,” he said finally. “Things are dire, and I come before you today with no time left to argue and debate. The fears of the loss of Thessaly, Thrace, and Macedon have come true. They have joined the Eastern invaders, cutting free Greece in half. You are caught in a precarious position, by yourselves with the Eastern forces between you and the bulk of the Western Alliance. Now is the time to decide what your future will be. Now is the time to decide if this is the end of your long history.”
“And you offer us what? The privilege of being crushed first? You point out that the Easterners are between us and your forces. Wouldn’t that be a strong argument for the rest of the free states to follow our northern brethren and join the Easterners for our own survival, instead of siding with your lot?” the Athenian representative asked.
“We aren’t in the way of either of you,” one of the men Ramirus didn’t recognize said. “Why should we choose either side of the conflict and put ourselves in danger? I still say our best option is to remain neutral. We have maintained our independence through worse times.”
“The world has changed. Modern warfare brings destruction on a scale your ancestors never imagined. The artillery alone...”
“We’ve seen the weapons,” interrupted the representative of Argos. “Whether we submit to Britannia or the Easterners or even if Carthage had remained in power, the result is the same. Foreign rule.”
The gathered Greeks all voiced their agreement. In some ways, Ramirus could see their point. They weren’t in the direct path of the fighting, and it would be appealing to think that they could somehow hide and remain untouched while the rest of the world burned.
Appealing, but naive.
“I know you have been contacted by the Easterners, who want you to join them the same way we want you to join us. You are not being left alone. The attention is on you from all sides. The Easterners do not want to fight on two fronts and that is exactly what we want. The difference is that one side offers alliance and autonomy, while the other demands submission. Ask the refugees from Thessaly about the Eastern occupation. From what we understand, already their men are being taken from their homes and put under arms.”
“And how would you be different?”
“The Western Alliance exists solely as a mutual defense,” Ramirus said, using the phrase the Consul used so often. “Each member maintains complete autonomy over their internal affairs. Britannia has no interest in governing Greece. We seek only to preserve your independence against those who would strip it away entirely.”
“How magnanimous of you,” the Spartan representative said. “And one you will maintain right up until you bring legionaries with rifles and cannons into our cities.”
“Ask the Germanic Alliance, or the Hispanians, or the Gauls if our words are so false? Those rifles and cannons we bring are not to rule your people but to preserve your ability to speak for them. The Eastern forces have already occupied three Greek states. Their people don’t enjoy the luxury of debate anymore. You have sent representatives to Germania, spoken to some of our allies. You have seen for yourself that they maintain their own laws, their own customs, their own trade relationships.”
“Yet you speak of weapons and warfare,” the unknown representative interjected. “From where we stand, both sides seem evenly matched. Why choose either?”
Ramirus made a mental note of the man. That was twice he pushed neutrality, which if Ramirus were a suspicious man, which he was, he would conclude that it might be easier to get the Greeks to reject the West in the name of neutrality and open themselves up to invasion, rather than push the Greeks into the arms of the west.
Worse, it could work. They had compromised one of the Greeks’ own, who was telling them exactly what they wanted to hear.
“That apparent balance is an illusion, and a dangerous one. The Easterners throw waves of men against our defensive lines, losing hundreds daily to our artillery. Their largest fleet in history was decimated by a far smaller force of our ships. They can’t match our rate of innovation, while they struggle to copy our existing weapons, we develop new ones.”
“Britannians,” the compromised man said. “Always speaking of their strength while fighting from a position of weakness.”
“Let me be clear; this isn’t mere boasting. The death toll among the Easterners is staggering. Our iron-clad river boats control every major waterway. And this is only the beginning. The Britannian factories produce weapons that would have been unimaginable a decade ago. You have a lot to say about neutrality, but use the language of capitulation.”
The Greek stood to argue but was stopped by a gesture from the Athenian.
“And what specific guarantees would the Western Alliance offer us?”
“Full participation in the Alliance Council. Complete control over your domestic affairs. Mutual defense obligations, yes, but also access to our trading networks and manufacturing techniques. We don’t seek subjects - we seek partners.”
“And if we remain neutral?”
“No one will remain neutral in this war.”
The chamber erupted into angry shouts, delegates rising from their seats in outrage, with some even moving to leave entirely.
“We do not take kindly to threats from foreigners, Roman or otherwise,” the Spartan representative said angrily.
“You mistake my meaning entirely,” Ramirus said, raising his hands placatingly. “I do not threaten, merely predict. I predict the same fate that will befall your northern neighbors before this is all finished. The fate the entire continent suffered under Carthaginian rule. Complete absorption and subjugation.”
“More fear-mongering from...” the compromised man said.
“Hold your tongue,” Ramirus snapped, speaking harshly for the first time. “You might speak the words of neutrality, but I hear only the Easterners when you speak.”
The way the man glanced aside at his neighbors at the comment, he might as well have announced his true allegiance then. The Easterners might have picked the easiest among the Greeks to manipulate, but they also picked a fool. Ramirus could see several of the other representatives, especially the Spartan representative, look at him suspiciously, finally putting things together.
“If you choose neutrality, the Western Alliance will respect that choice. We will hold our line along Illyria and Epirus, leaving Athens and the southern states to their own devices. The Easterners, however, would offer you something completely different. In action if not in words.”
He paused, letting the delegates settle back into their seats before continuing. “But consider what happened in Sarmatia after they passed through. Every small kingdom absorbed, their people conscripted, their customs erased. The Eastern forces did the same as they entered Germania, until the Western Alliance finally halted their advance. The process has already begun. The Eastern armies flood into Macedon. Their artillery positions grow closer by the day. I’m sure they would prefer that you give in to them willingly, but they will not have the luxury of waiting for that much longer, and will turn to harsher means. The time for debate grows short.”
A rumble rippled through the crowd as they discussed it in hushed whispers. They knew he spoke the truth.
The Athenian representative rose. “We thank you for your words, honored ambassador. The council must discuss this matter privately.”
“Of course,” Ramirus said, struggling to his feet. “But do not deliberate overlong. The day approaches when Eastern forces will stand at the very steps of this chamber. When that day comes, it will be too late for choosing sides.”
The legionary hurried down to assist him, but Ramirus waved him off. He’d made his case. Now it was up to the Greeks to decide their fate. As he climbed the worn steps, he could already hear heated discussion breaking out behind him. Whether they chose alliance or neutrality, war was coming to Greece. He only hoped they realized it before it was too late.
Port Vikhavn
Valdar looked over the port, which was finally bustling again after months of his fleet trapped in the harbor, unable to leave because of the enemy fleet sitting just offshore.
The activity was still all military and supply ships, since there was little commercial value in this port. But that would be changing, and not a moment too soon. He could see from where he stood that the forts were already covered in scaffolding, repairing the scars created by the numerous Easterner attempts to get through to the port.
They had held up remarkably well, although Valdar wondered if they would continue at the same level of performance once the Easterners figured out the secrets to the artillery shell like they had figured out the rifles and cannon.
His ships were also under heavy repair. They had done what they could for them, but until the Easterners’ fleet had been destroyed, he had been effectively under a blockade, unable to get more than the most rudimentary supplies needed for the repairs.
That was one of the things that had his officers waiting for him in the port commander’s office, in fact.
The port’s command building stood on high ground overlooking the harbor. It held not only offices for the commander himself, a centurion who would soon be promoted to tribune, if his sources were correct, but also for his staff and officers, and an office for the engineer sent to oversee ship repairs.
The building was in pure chaos when he entered. Aside from all the work happening on the water and across it, this building was also undergoing renovation, as it expanded to make room for the new role this port was to have.
The commander had graciously given them use of his office for this meeting, seeing as it was the only part of the building not filled with workmen.
“Gentlemen,” Valdar’s entrance brought the room to attention, “be seated. We have much to discuss.”
As the assembled officers settled into their chairs, Valdar continued. “We’ve had our first real chance to assess the damage since the defeat of the Eastern fleet. I know many of you have had a chance to tour the forts and see the wreckage still being dredged from the harbor entrance. Now that we have a moment to breathe, I’d like your thoughts on what went right and wrong with our defense.”
“The forts did the job better than any of us could have predicted,” Einar, the captain of the Aquila, said. “I will admit I was one who thought we would be fighting a losing battle inside this harbor the day after the enemy arrived. Instead, those forts took every cannonball the enemy had to offer and sank everything that tried to run their gauntlet. Even the enemy’s biggest push only allowed a handful of ships through.”
“I do wonder what the difference will be once the new artillery shells are in place,” the port commander said. “How the forts will fare?”
“Considering we received our initial shipment of shells with the first supply convoy that was able to come through and the enemy has yet to copy them, I imagine well. Yes, the enemy using well-packed explosive shells could do more damage to our forts, but what we could do in return to a wooden ship is ... significant. Hell, we don’t even have to be as accurate with them. An airburst above the ship would shred its sails and scour its deck.”
The commander nodded, considering that. It was easy to only focus on the fire coming in when you were a landsman, instead of thinking of how that fire would look on a much more vulnerable wooden vessel.