For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 39B3 : Come One, Come All

B3 Chapter 39: Come One, Come All

A shock of cold water hurled Marcus rather unwillingly back into consciousness. He coughed and spluttered, writhing about on the hard stone he’d apparently made his bed as he struggled to orient himself. His bleary eyes just managed to make out two pairs of sandaled feet before him before squeezing back shut at the brightness of the midday sun.

“Fuck, man.” he heard one of them say. Marcus winced, the loudness of his voice sending spikes of pain through his skull.

“I know. I told you he’s in bad shape.”

“‘Bad’ is one way to put it. No way we can bring him to the emperor like this.”

“What… what’s going on?” Marcus managed. Despite being currently afflicted with the worst hangover of his life, he managed to speak without slurring his words or any such difficulty. A perk of a lifetime of training and sky high charisma.

One of the Legionnaires set down a now empty bucket. “We’re here to get you back in some semblance of shape. You’ve been on a bender for a week.”

“A week?!” Marcus tried to shoot to his feet in panic, only to slip on the puddle of water beneath him and nearly crack his skull on the stones.

He heard the two men chuckle above him. “Nah, just messing with you. It’s only been three days. But you do have an audience with the emperor today. Or did you forget?”

Marcus groaned. He could vaguely remember flashes of singing before crowds of Legionnaires, overseeing drunken brawls, some rather ill-advised competitions, and the like. But three days? It was a lot of time for him to simply lose like that.

Belatedly, the last part of the Legionnaire’s words processed. “I have… an audience?”

“Yep. And if we don’t get you moving now, you’re going to be late.” One of the Legionnaires reached down and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him to his feet and shaking him. “Come on, friend.”

The two men practically held Marcus on either side as they frog-marched him down the alley. The bard worked to get his feet beneath him as best he could. “Where are we going? To see Tiberius?”

“In your state? Fuck no. We’re going to a healer first, then we need to get you something to wear. I’ll be damned if I bring you before the emperor looking like you’ve slept in a pigsty.”

It was only then that Marcus really took stock of himself. The stone he’d been sleeping on seemed to have been only one in a series of ill-advised sleeping accommodations, if the layer of grime caked across his entire person was any indication. The bucket of water they’d thrown on him had honestly been an improvement. At least it had washed a little of it off.

“When’s this audience again?” He asked, gritting his teeth against the impacts his footfalls sent through him.

“About ten minutes. Which means you’d better hurry your ass up.”

Marcus could only groan. “Give me a minute…”

He shrugged the men off, and after a moment they obligingly released him. Fumbling at his pack, he managed to pull out his spellbook—grateful that he’d somehow managed to keep all of his things—and rifled through the pages. He soon managed to find the one he was looking for and began the incantation as steadily as he could manage.

The effect was instantaneous. The dirt, water, and debris that had caked into Marcus’s clothes and hair rose up as though by an invisible force, coalescing into a singular sphere before him. Once he was completely clean, Marcus directed the sphere to the side of the alley, dropping it away from their path.

One of the Legionnaires whistled appreciatively. “Damn. That’s a useful trick.”

“It’s expensive is what it is,” Marcus grumbled as he stowed his spellbook away once again. He kept a few of those spells on hand just for occasions like this. But he much preferred a bath when he could get away with it. Still, it couldn’t be helped.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been out getting hammered this whole time. A day, sure, but three? Shit, man. Having kids isn’t that bad.”

Marcus did his best to glare, though it turned more into a squint with the brightness of the sun. “Responsibilty and I didn't exactly get along well.”

The fact that he'd decided to stay with the Legion and do what he could to mitigate their rampage was already a bit unusual for him. But that was mostly driven by a desire to see their story unfold from the best seat in the house. Really, the things he did to help people such as the conquered Novarans were just extra. Things he could step away from at any time.

He ran a hand through his newly cleaned hair. The spell had done nothing about its tangles or the wrinkles of his clothes. But he already looked and felt miles better. “Now, remind me of what exactly this audience is about?”

The Legionnaires were thankfully willing to let him change the subject. Apparently, the trials for the Novaran nobles were in full swing, and he was supposed to be speaking on behalf of the nobles that had surrendered during the invasion.

The trials were for show, of course. Just like with the king's execution, it was a song and dance whose primary purpose was to smooth the transition of power and put the people at ease. As much as Marcus had done to paint an agreeable picture of the Romans, showing them as reasonable people with respect for the rule of law would certainly help.

It would also give Tiberius a perfect opportunity to get rid of any nobles that could prove problematic in the future—something else that Marcus was happy to advise on. Though most of those had already been burned to the ground during the initial takeover.

He winced as they emerged from the alley and into the full intensity of the daylight. His head pounded as though Vulcan himself had made the inside of Marcus’s skull his personal forge.

“I don’t suppose we’d have time to stop by a healer?” Marcus ventured, scrubbing his face with one hand. “That spell of mine only can do so much…”

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The trio hurried along to get Marcus back to some semblance of his usual self. They then made haste toward the castle, where he slipped in through a servant’s entrance to arrive fashionably late for the first trial. Thankfully, they were still going over the formal administrative bits rather than doing anything that would have made his absence noteworthy.

Settling into a seat, Marcus sighed, unobtrusively smoothing a few more wrinkles from his cloak and scanning the room. To his dismay, the princesses were indeed present—and looking right at him.

He fixed a smile to his face, suddenly looking forward to the proceedings even less than before.

***

After spending months on open plains, the towering cliffs and rock formations of orc territory felt even more confining and claustrophobic. Blind corners perfect for hiding ambushes, rough terrain that forced their columns to weave about or condense down, not to mention a lack of good spaces to camp… Quintus had marched through the Alps before, and he would have called even that place downright friendly in comparison.

Their only saving grace was [Warpath]. In addition to speeding their progress and ensuring they spent as little time in this blighted land as possible, its strange secondary effect helped to smooth their march tremendously.

Gaius had the men focus on the effect of their feet on the land below, on picturing what it would look like once they had civilized this territory. The results were incredible. The irregular and rugged terrain smoothed out considerably and became far more agreeable to navigate. It was almost similar to marching through snow, the men in the front compacting the white stuff to make their brethren’s lives easier. By the time the end of the column passed, scouts reported that there were even a few patches paved with stone.

Of course, the “roads” still left a lot to be desired. Given their serpentine paths and the constant changes in their formation’s width, what was left behind wasn’t nearly as efficient or neat as the roads Quintus was used to. But it was a start, and it would make their return march many times more pleasant.

But what really had Quintus on edge was the lack of activity. Despite how perfect the terrain would have been for ambushes, sneak attacks, and catching the Legion unawares, they had yet to encounter a single shred of resistance. Not a soul. Even the scattered settlements they came across were all recently abandoned like the first.

The lack of any opposition was almost worse than probing raids. Both he and the men grew more tense by the hour, waiting for some sort of trap to snap closed around them as they eventually slowed and began to exercise more caution, waiting for scouts to confirm the path was clear.. They couldn’t afford to be complacent, yet this state wasn’t sustainable either.

Days passed like this before they finally spotted their first group of orcs. Yet it wasn’t an ambush or even a populated settlement. This was a troop of the green skinned barbarians jogging deeper into the wasteland. The group was small enough that a century of Legionnaires and elves each had no trouble handling them. By the time Quintus reached the site of the engagement, it was already over.

Orc bodies littered the ground. A handful of them had been bound and restrained for questioning in hopes that they could provide insight on what was going on. Although considering how they howled and fought against the restraints, Quintus didn’t put too much faith in their ability or willingness to communicate.

The centurion passed by the few Legionnaires that had taken injuries, nodding to them in acknowledgement as they were tended to by healers and surgeons. Then, he barked out his orders. “We make camp at the rock shelf to the east. Take the prisoners there and present them to the Legatus for interrogation. Move the wounded there as well.”

The men rushed to obey. Gaius chose to set up camp a little early today, prioritizing the information they might get from the orcs over speed. Quintus couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Something was off here, and even if the orcs were less than cooperative, perhaps there was something that could be learned from the brutes. And gleaning that information would be far easier if they didn’t need to worry about doing it on the move.

The men dug into hillsides, set up tall watch posts, and fortified all entries to the camp. They positioned themselves on the highest piece of ground they could feasibly manage. The whole matter was complicated somewhat by the lack of trees in the area, but that was nothing they hadn’t overcome before. By this point, the men were more than capable of producing acceptable earthenwork fortifications that went toe-to-toe with some wooden ones.

It took a few hours for everything to be set in place, and by the time Quintus had made sure that every single approach or overhook was at least watched, if not occupied, Gaius had already begun questioning the orcs. The Legatus emerged from a tent emitting rather unpleasant noises and called for a staff meeting. They gathered at the command tent to find Gaius grim-faced, like a younger echo of Tiberius at some of his worst moments.

He, Quintus, and the other officers gathered around a three-dimensional map of the surrounding area. Gaius nodded at a nearby Legionnaire, who retrieved a stylus and began to make several quick strokes across the map.

“Evidently, there’s been a call to gather the orcs for war. Not just any war, though. One directly following a moot. One that’s promised to be the greatest in the history of their people,” Gaius explained, pointing to a spot to the far west. “The gathering point is here, in the most densely-populated settlement in these lands. And every last orc in these mountains is headed there.”

Quintus looked at the spot. It appeared as a massive bowl in the mountains, forming a patch of flat land several miles across. While they didn’t have eyes on its contents yet, he had no doubt that scouts were already on their way to remedy that deficiency.

“How many?” One of the officers asked. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Gaius shook his head. “Based on the words of our captives, ‘lots and lots and lots.’ Asking these brutes to estimate numbers appears to be an exercise in futility. But I have no doubt that it will be a larger force than even the one we saw at Novara. The scouts have been keeping track of the settlements we’ve run across, and their best estimates have the total numbers in the hundreds of thousands.”

Murmurs rose around the table. And no wonder. The Legion was used to fighting outnumbered, of course. But like this? Even if there were only a hundred thousand orcs, they would be facing almost twenty to one odds in their current numbers, and that was with the elves counted among them. Not to mention that it was in rather unfavorable terrain.

The number had even Quintus frowning. While it was true that they'd managed to deal with the orcs rather handily last time, it was with the benefit of a fortified position and the Legion not being their main focus. If this flood of fighters were focused entirely on them, it might be a different story. Even if Rome brought to bear the full weight of its forces—two Legions, Duke Redcliffe's men, Novara's remaining military, and whatever soldiers the nobility could field—they wouldn't be able to come remotely close to those numbers. And that wasn't considering the amount the orcish forces might grow in the time it took to rally their troops together and bring them here.

All this ran through Quintus's head as Gaius continued. "Fortunately, it doesn't seem that word has spread to the entirety of the orcs yet. This group only just heard of the moot a day ago. And while we don't know how quickly their messengers move, we do know that there is another massive settlement over in this direction.”

Gaius indicated a location south of them. The stylus-wielding Legionnaire marked the location, then began drawing a glowing path between it and the earthen bowl that was the orcs' gathering point. “If these orcs are still en route, then we may be able to intercept them and prevent them from joining the main force. That will make them significantly easier to manage, in theory. It will also give us a better chance to hone our tactics on a smaller scale before throwing ourselves headlong into the lion’s den. Thoughts?”

As he finished, Gaius's gaze rose to meet each other man's in turn. There was a firm and decisive quality to his tone that hadn’t been present at the start of this whole endeavor. When the young man’s eyes met Quintus’s, the centurion gave him a subtle nod of approval.

The situation wasn’t a particularly promising one. Yet despite that, Gaius kept his composure and did not allow the men to feel hopeless. With any luck, things might actually go their way.

The group went back and forth for a while longer, hashing out the final details of their plan. Then, they broke to get what sleep they could. Tomorrow, this campaign would truly begin.