Cilicia

"BRING ME WATER, I SAY"

The pro-consul was postrated on his campaign bet, covered in furs and blankets, sweating his fever. He had one leg covered in bandages, some of them bloody or worse. It didn't smell well on the tent, no matter its large size. Crassus' hair fell wet on his forehead.

"I don't want to hear about our casualties. I know them, all too well, bring me fresh water, for Jove's sake"

The pro-consul swallowed whole a gallon of water, while shaking from the fever that had seized control of his body.

"Pro-consul, the legions should be here any time soon"

"Aye, but where are they? Left me fighting against that rabid dog of a king alone while Asia was ransacked. I bet that populist filth is trying to have me killed"

He added, frowning.

"Mercury be merciful"

Grunted, while trying to find a more comfortable position. A spear had gone cleanly into his tight, piercing it from side to side, luckily it was a clean thing that didn't cut any veins, else he would have bled like a pig in seconds. But it was painful and on the way to Cilicia it had gotten infected.

The vast encampment was well fortified, with palisades and towers, housing whatever remained of the three legions. They were close to Cilicia's own capital, Tarsos, and the news coming South were increasingly more troubling. Not only had Mithridates conquered Bythinia in weeks, but also most of Asia, to Crassus' chagrin. But there was little he could do with one leg and only three battered legions, least so fighting Mithridates himself. The notion tortured the pro-consul to no end on his feverish bed.

A missive arrives from Rome.

A fleet of warships arrives from the southwest, having loosely followed the coast of Asia Minor to move towards Cilicia. Finally, reinforcements for the beleaguered Crassus had come. 
The vanguard of the ships would be the spearhead that broke the blockade - arraying themselves to face the fleet of the King of Kings. They would be under the command of Cinna, and contain all those warships which were not transporting men. 
Behind them would be Sulla, heading up the Quinquiremes with the legionaries loaded on board. Acting as a reserve, their priority would be making a beach-head on the Cilician coast once Cinna had won the victory at sea. Finally, the ships approached the land of Asia, where men walked in the footsteps of great generals and kings of old. The Pro-Consul made ready his ships, and ensured Cinna was prepared for his own task of smashing the Pontic fleet while Sulla prepared the legions for whatever eventuality.

Battle Fleet: Cinna (3 Command)
90 Triremes
50 Hexaremes

Transports:
65 Quinquireme

Cinna's ships clear away the Pontic navy without too much difficulty. Perhaps taken by surprise, they sustain some losses before their commander breaks away from the Roman fleet and sails back towards the Pontic stronghold at Athens, where the Greek fleet is stationed in the port at Piraeus.

Roman victory. Pontus loses 20 Tiremes, 6 Quinquireme, and 2 Hexareme.
Cinna loses 8 Triremes, but captures 10 Tireme, 3 Quinquireme, and 1 Hexareme.


---


With the Pontic threat dealt with and Cinna victorious, Sulla begins landing his troops around Tarsos. When he disembarks, he sends a runner informing Crassus of his arrival.

Sulla approached on horseback in his military regalia, put on in anticipation of any coming battle with the Pontic fleet. With him were the first cohort of his favoured legion, the Victrix, battle hardened veterans of the campaigns of Marius and Lepidus against the Gallic and Germanic tribes. Gone was the face of jovial camaraderie; the steely mask of the general had once again encased itself over the Imperator's freckled and sunburnt features.

"Ave, Crassus."

The Pro-Consul's eyes fell on Crassus' men, who looked to have been put through the worst of some hard days of campaigning. They, like their commander, looked lean and weary. Who could blame them. Lucius dismounted and closed the distance between himself and Capitolinus, offering his arm in friendship.

"I am glad to see you still among the living. When I heard of the loss of Asia and Cappadocia, I thought I might find you food for the vultures. Fortunately, Crete fell quickly enough that I could get here in time."

Sulla smiled thinly.

"Well, the Bithynians and our Asian allies have ever been soft. They lack the true Roman virtues required to stomach long months of war. I believe these easterners will fold when faced with a real force. Their true strength is in numbers alone."

The Imperator was clearly enjoying the sight of his numerous legions disembarking nearby, forming marching columns as they took the route to Tarsos. He nodded in agreement with his counterpart.

"That is my hope. With these men at my disposal, we will break out of the Cilician gates and drive this barbarian back into Pontus. If we threaten Mithridates from his rear, we can force the decisive engagement needed to send the tyrant packing."

"Your wounds look fierce. I shall send you my physician. A most learned man from Attica."

Sulla noticed and gestured to the poorly healed leg, having seen men carrying such wounds for a lifetime. They required careful treatment, something the rank and file could ill afford.

"Well, at least that is something. Defeat is defeat, but at least there is no disgrace. We shall regroup."

Proclaimed the Imperator, loudly. Standards being lost would have caused a headache for everyone, Sulla included. The Pro-Consul cleared his throat, and spoke somewhat less in volume, so that only the immediate company would hear.

"Before we begin, we must come to an understanding about command. All know and respect your reputation, myself included. I would not joust with you in the courts. But in turn, I would expect you would not contend with me on the battlefield. Would you disagree?"

Sulla Felix patted Crassus on the shoulder. Trying to ease the blow.

"Now, I have no desire for us to be anything less than friends. So, we shall find a way to conduct this respectfully. In return, I can use my considerable influence at home to protect your position here as well as my own. There would be no shame attached to your name for the Cappadocian... incident. No charges of misconduct from any rascals. You have my word."

"Good! Good."

The Pro-Consul clapped the man's shoulder at the newly won agreement. It was best that such things went smoothly. It seemed that, at least, the Cappadocian venture had served to humble Capitolinus in regards to matters military. To have the man on his side rather than at his back was a great boon, nonetheless.

"We will. I shall give the men some time to rest from the voyage and ensure our supply lines are intact. Will your men be fit for campaign? It is best to strike fast and hard, while the spring months allow us to pass through the mountains."

The veterans knew what to do, the military machine taking over in the background behind the two governors. They would march quickly to join Crassus' own army at his encampment.

"I shall handle Rome. Despite my absence, I have not remained blind to developments. For the meantime, I shall appoint one of my legates to command of the fleet so that we can press our advantage at sea. That the Republic's navy is here with us shall also delay any attempt to usurp command."

Who that would be was a good question. Cinna and Caesar had invaluable experience on land, though he had no doubt both would do a fine job in scourging Mithridates from the waters. Perhaps he would broach the matter with the young Lepidus.