Pro Consulate of Cisapline and Transalpine Gaul

Lepidus smiled politely "Taking advice is good, making your mark with it, is best Drusus." Lepidus hoped his words would ring through. Now focusing on the important matter ahead, military strategy. As they drew closer into the woods and ambushes became more and more probable. "Lets hope we're not lured into a trap. Otherwise these woods are the last thing we'll ever see." Lepidus was worried, ambushes weren't Rome's best occupation.

Marcus Livius perked up after hearing the scouts report. He had never known battle, but now that one was near, his blood was heating up and he felt true excitement for the first time since before his father had died.
"I hope you can trust your scouts, Marcus Aemilius, because I sense we will have a great victory here today." He expresses to the Consul, his cheeks flush with the thrill of an upcoming fight, his voice  marked with emotion.
"I believe the troops are ready for a fight after this march too, they are tired of the chase, but appear eager! They rain will only dampen our enemies hearts." He implores Lepidus.

Drusus hurried off to his legion the Legio X Primigenia, a good solid veteran unit. He gathered all his senior officers and centurions around him to discuss the battle plans.

"Okay, men! Tomorrow is the battle. I know it has been a long slow slog through this forest, but we are finally here with an enemy in front of us. It is time to unleash the power of our military might upon these barbarians. They have no traditions like us, no history like us, and no prowess like us!" Drusus felt more encouraged by this than ever in his life. He felt certain of his victory. Mars would be sacrificed to tonight, and Jupiter tomorrow after the victory.

"We have the privilege of fighting of the right hand of out esteemed Consul Lepidus! We must not disappoint him!" He implored his officers.
"We shall hold back briefly until the center has engaged. Then we shall charge forward and push their flank into the middle with all our weight!"
"Once we hold the hill and the high ground , the enemy will melt away, however we must not pursue in this forest and risk out men getting lost. While it is difficult terrain, try to keep your men together, alone among the trees they will not survive." Drusus implored some safety , although he wished for as much glory as could be gained. He needed to make a name after being away from the Roman political life for so long.

The battle began in confused fashion, with the Roman legions struggling to advance into the thick undergrowth. In particular was the formation of the left of the Roman battle line disrupted, either being too tightly packed together by the trees or isolated and separated from their companions. One section of the left hand side did not even make it into the battle at all, becoming confused and finding themselves lost as they meandered through the trees. Meanwhile their disjointed comrades were pushed from the hill with heavy losses, the outnumbered Gauls making short work of their disorganised foes. Thus did the Roman left have to retreat, albeit they did so in good order, the Gauls having too few men to organise an effective pursuit without compromising their battle line.

In the centre, things fared better for the Romans. Lepidus led his Gallican legion up the forested slopes with apparent ease, the veterans apparently finding it easier to keep cohesion than their fresher counterparts. They pushed the token Gallic defence from the forest, but it became apparent that much of the Gallic army was missing. Where were they? Just as Lepidus prepared to turn and push the Gallic right from the hill, he heard sounds of commotion coming from his rear...

On the Roman right, Livius Drusus prepared his advance. Lingering slightly behind the rest of the Roman force, it would take the Romans a while to notice that there was no resistance arrayed opposite them. Confused, the Romans stalled, passing orders on to their Imperator that the enemy had apparently vacated this part of the hill. Before they could signal a general advance, the Romans were met with a rude surprise - the Aquitanian chieftain had taken the largest part of his army and outflanked the Romans. Emerging from the trees to the east, the Gallic charge frightened the raw recruits, and many turned to run before the battle had even truly began. Drusus put up a valiant defence with the most stalwart of his men, but even with the help of the Roman cavalry - that had dealt with a Gallic surprise attack of their own - his efforts were limited to damage control.

Fortunately for the Romans, the presence of their cavalry and Lepidus' own efforts in the centre meant that the Gauls were too disjointed to organise a pursuit. Lepidus led his men from the field in good order, and though they were badly bruised the Imperator probably felt that things could have gone much worse in facing the Gauls deep in their own territory on unfavourable ground. Thanks to the courage of the Roman cavalry and Lepidus' own victory, disaster had been averted.


Roman defeat. The Romans retreat to Lactora.

Casualties:

Gallic dead:
92 cavalry
355 heavy infantry
490 light infantry


Roman dead:
Legio Equestris - 800 men
Legio Gallica - 145 men
Legio Primigenia - 700 men
50 gallic cavalry

Post battle rolls:
Drusus - serious wound. Cannot fight on the front lines of battle for 3 days.
Lepidus - minor wound. -1 resilience for 2 days.

Publius Cornelius Sulla was a man who had a penchant for getting himself into trouble. In this he was like his father, Servius, who had managed to cling on to senatorial rank by the skin of his teeth. The only difference was that Publius was smart enough to keep his nose above water. Or so he thought of himself. A Sulla by reputation and manner, Publius could often be found loitering in the Subura, Roma's most plebeian neighbourhood. Not entirely by choice, it must be said, as Servius Sulla did not have the funds or intelligence required to pull himself from obscurity onto the Palatine Hill, as his half-brother had done. The bitter old man was now reduced to living as the client of his much younger sibling, who was now riding high as the most powerful man within the city of Rome, occasionally turning out to vote in elections and make the required speeches expected of him.

So, naturally, Publius spent his days trading on his uncle's fame and money in the local brothels and drinking houses. Not that there was anything wrong with that. The Consul frequently spent his own free time with whores, actors, and catamites. In his young days, he had even dabbled as a playwright. But the old hypocrite had stressed to his errant nephew the prudence of doing so behind closed doors, a successful political career having lent him an air of respectability. Instead, Publius had become infamous for his misbehaviour in the lower part of the city, particularly for his gambling debts and his dalliances with married women. He was, in short, an utter liability to any self-respecting relative. But this lecherous behaviour was merely an indication of his virile manhood, and was not the reason he had been swiftly packed away from Rome to the provinces. Publius' true error had been getting caught up in the Saturnine Conspiracy. Being a young, impoverished noble with significant debts and little future prospects, Publius had enthusiastically become one of the rabble rousing Tribune's most prominent supporters. Not that he had officially engaged in any violence himself. There were no surviving witnesses to his plunder of senatorial mansions on the Aventine. He had made sure of it.

But being implicated was enough. Despairing of the ineptitude of his fellow conspirators and foretelling their imminent demise, Publius fled to join his father, who had shamefully been reduced to posing as a woman to flee the city and escape to a kinsman's house in Campania. There they had waited out the storm, keeping their heads down as Servius had always been so adept at doing. Upon his triumphant return from Hispania, his uncle had finally decided that enough was enough. On the eve of his Consular election, the precious reputation of Sulla Felix could not afford to be connected even flimsily to a coup against the state. So, favours had been called in. Sulla's clients turned out for Publius' election to a military post in Gaul, to serve alongside the antiquarian Lepidus as a military tribune. Publius was given two days to pack his things, say farewell to his whores, and get the next ship from Ostia. Otherwise, his uncle had implied, he might find himself being hauled before the Praetors. Facing no choice at all, Publius accepted his fate and prepared for what was potentially a years long posting in wet and dreary Gaul.

His turn of misfortune did not end there. After a few days of sailing, Publius' ship was chased around Sardinia by pirates, eventually running aground off of Corsica in a storm after a brave attempt to run the pirate blockade. After spending a month among shepherd and swineherds, Publius was picked up off the Corsican coast and sent on his way to Massalia. With now long blonde hair and a ragged beard, he looked more a Gaul than a Roman, and it took several days for the provincial administration to confirm his identity and posting. Eventually, they were convinced enough to give him an ill fitting suit of armour, a borrowed horse, and send him on his way into the Gallic wilderness.

This ragged Roman would arrive at Lepidus' camp some days later, not long after his defeat with the Aquitani. It seems the tale of the missing tribune had been solved for the time being.