Fate: Hero of Justice Takeover-Chapter 250: [] Caligula’s Night Raid

Take a freshly slaughtered wild chicken from nearby, clean and portion it. Marinate with pepper, lovage root, a pinch of caraway, meat broth, and wine.

Fry, then place in a ceramic pan. Add the seasoning atop the chicken, pour in wine to simmer until the flavors meld and seep into the meat. Sprinkle with pepper, and serve.

Thus, a fragrant Parthian-style chicken was born.

"So... this is why you've been hiding in your tent, sneaking delicious food behind my back?"

Nero's ahoge swayed as she snatched another drumstick under Sakatsuki's pained gaze. With a "chomp!" she took a bite, her eyes instantly narrowing in bliss at the tender, juicy flavor.

"Umu! To think you could cook this well—I misjudged you, Legate!"

As she spoke, Nero devoured the "tribute" meant to bribe her, leaving the plate spotless. She then turned her curious gaze to the white-haired youth sulking in the corner.

"What are you doing over there?"

"Grieving. Brooding. Mourning. Wallowing."

That chicken had been the product of his meticulous planning and all the resources he'd wrung from his officers! A dish that surpassed the culinary technology of this era by over a millennium!

And now, aside from the drumstick he'd sneakily eaten earlier, the rest had vanished like a river flowing east...

Curse my oversight! I never imagined someone would barge in unannounced!

While lamenting the ancient adage "Even the wise make mistakes," Sakatsuki silently berated himself for cutting corners—setting up only soundproofing magecraft and neglecting defensive wards.

Next time, I'll set the defensive spells to lethal damage... (yandere face).

"Umu, umu!" Nero's limited mental capacity left no room for understanding the legate's sorrow. She proudly patted his shoulder with her greasy hand. "Were you not burdened with the Pisa expedition, I'd drag you back to the palace to cook for me forever!"

"Please spare me that fate, Your Majesty." Secretly adding this grudge to his ledger, Sakatsuki shed his "depressed otaku" persona and reverted to the shrewd commander. "Enough idle chatter. Your Majesty, what urgent matter brings you here?"

"Ah! I nearly forgot!" Nero snapped back to attention. "Legate, the thing is—"

Before she could continue, a chime echoed through the tent—the simple magecraft doorbell Sakatsuki had installed.

With a wave of his hand, the curtain flung open. Ethel and Rosario, fully armored, rushed in and shouted in unison:

"Sir—and Your Majesty! The enemy approaches!"

Enemy?!

Nero stiffened, but before she could speak, Sakatsuki calmly asked:

"Numbers?"

"One!"

"Understood. Rally the troops and prepare for battle." As he spoke, Sakatsuki grabbed the crimson cloak hanging on his chair and fastened it around his shoulders, striding toward the exit.

If the battle dragged into nightfall, the red garment—symbolizing the governor—would let soldiers track Sakatsuki's position for better coordination.

Halfway out, he finally remembered the emperor still present and reluctantly turned back. "Your Majesty—"

"No need to explain!" Nero cut him off, pounding her chest with a heroic expression. "I'm ready to take the field! My cheers will surely inspire the soldiers to fight fearlessly on the front lines!"

Yes... fearlessly fleeing from the front lines—because compared to the enemy, your singing is the deadlier threat.

Rosario, Ethel, and even Sakatsuki shuddered in unison, traumatic memories resurfacing.

"Actually, I wanted you to stay in the tent..." Sakatsuki sighed wearily.

Exhausted. Just end me.

"Your Majesty's safety is paramount. With battle imminent, military authority supersedes imperial command here. My apologies—restrain her. Don't let her take a single step outside!"

"Yes sir!" The former Praetorians, including Ethel, swarmed forward and seized the struggling emperor.

"How dare you?! Unhand me! Legate! I am your emperor!"

Amid Nero's protests, Sakatsuki strode out of the tent with renewed vigor.

***

Outside the Tent.

Thanks to prior orders, none of the soldiers had removed their gear. At the first blast of the war horn, Sakatsuki's forces assembled in neat ranks at the camp's edge.

Whether intentional or not, the surrendered prisoners lagged slightly behind the main troops.

Sakatsuki noted this with a flicker in his crimson eyes but said nothing. Ascending a platform, he gazed into the distance.

There stood a man in ornate golden armor and a blood-red cape. His purple hair was matted with grime, his face twisted into a bestial snarl. Sensing Sakatsuki's gaze, the man on the plains abruptly looked up—

Two pairs of blood-tainted eyes locked across the distance. In moments, the mountains of corpses and seas of blood reflected in Sakatsuki's gaze overwhelmed the hatred festering in the man who had slaughtered legions.

As if sensing his intimidation tactics failing, the man roared. Despite his regal attire, he charged forward like a wild beast—his speed rivaling that of galloping cavalry.

"...What of the rescued soldiers?"

Rosario, standing guard beside Sakatsuki, replied: "They've been integrated into the legions. Heeding your warning, they've kept silent about anything that might lower morale."

"Good." Sakatsuki glanced back at his troops.

Though unaware of Caligula's infamy, the soldiers instinctively recoiled at the man's feral charge.

This won't do.

With that thought, Sakatsuki summoned the black banner—only to dismiss it immediately. Snorting derisively, he snatched the gold-and-red Roman standard from Rosario's hands.

"Centurions of the First Legion—forward!"

The commander's clear orders reinvigorated the troops. Four hundred soldiers of the First Legion roared in response, their step forward igniting a bloody aura so thick it seemed tangible.

"Open the gates! Meet our unruly guest on the plains!" The crimson-clad commander raised the standard, his gaze coldly fixed on the Berserker halfway across the field.

"Second Legion—exit through the flank gates and hold position. Await orders!"

"Third Legion archers, slingers, crossbowmen—man the walls! All others, including integrated prisoners, report to the quartermaster for tools!"

In moments, all but the Fourth Legion reserve forces surged into action, flowing toward their objectives like a well-oiled machine.

Only the prisoners "pardoned" by Nero remained, shuffling nervously until they noticed Sakatsuki's gaze upon them.

His blood-red eyes held no mercy:

"Prove your loyalty."

Minutes later, a small contingent of fully armed troops marched through the main gate. Under their centurions' barked orders, they charged toward Caligula—now encircled by the First Legion.

***

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