B2 Chapter 38: It’s Raining Men

Tiberius climbed the last hill with his entourage of guards, stopping at its apex to inspect the situation ahead. At the same time he cracked his neck, taking the opportunity to flex and stretch his legs and feet. His entire lower body felt sore. Hell, even his neck hurt.

All the marching he’d been doing recently had really been wearing on him, even with his skill levels and improved stats. It seemed as though the more capable he became, the harder he pushed himself to match—though the same could be said for the rest of the Legion. Though they were surely leveling their [Warpath] skills faster than someone stuck reading reports at his desk like Tiberius.

Still, he supposed he should be grateful that this wasn’t worse. As someone used to having a mount for these long marches, he likely should have been hobbling. He briefly considered picking up [Marching] again as an individual skill to get double benefit, but decided against it. Doing so would feel like an admission that he was going soft.

He returned his attention to the city ahead. Just as the scouts had reported, it was completely encircled by the Legion. The fortifications the men had built around its walls appeared deep and well-constructed as well.

As he surveyed the landscape, he saw a small contingent of Legionnaires leave the camp and head his way. Quintus and a few of the other, more senior members of the troops that had accompanied him climbed the hill at a steady jogging pace. As they came to a halt, the entire entourage all snapped smart salutes. Tiberius returned the gesture, albeit with a little less stiffness.

His Primus Pilus let his hand fall. “Legatus. I suspected that it was you standing up here.”

Quintus’s lips twitched ever so slightly. The motion was almost imperceptible, but Tiberius had known him for far too long. To him, it was as obvious as a cheeky grin.

The Legatus felt as though he was missing a joke somehow. No matter. This was neither the time nor place for him to dwell on it. Perhaps he’d interrogate Quintus on the matter later, in private.

Instead, Tiberius nodded toward the edge of the Legion’s camp, where eighteen armored figures hung displayed. Each bore similarities to the [Cursed Berserker] who had led the adventuring party against them days before, though this silvery armor clearly held men inside. A second spear strapped perpendicularly to the first held each dead man’s arms out wide as though each were on a makeshift cross.

“Did you run into trouble?”

Quintus shook his head. “No. Not anything I would classify as trouble, at least. We had one attempt at resistance a few days ago, but the aggressors were swiftly dealt with.”

Tiberius hummed in approval. As expected. They had been relatively certain that the forces sent against them represented the city’s last dregs of real military power. And judging by Quintus’s report, they had been right to think so. If the city held any more trump cards, they were holding them close to the chest even as their position steadily weakened.

“I see. Well, then. Report, Primus.”

Quintus did so. The centurion laid out the whole story: how the city had been preparing for a siege upon their arrival, how they’d caught them off guard with the initial encirclement, the capture of the baron’s family, and the failed assault against the Legion.

When he was finished, Tiberius once again nodded. “You have done well, Quintus. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, Legatus.” The Primus Pilus saluted again.

Tiberius gestured behind him, where a long column of Legionnaires snaked through the hills and toward the horizon beyond. “The rest of our forces are not far behind. The siege weapons slowed our advance considerably, but it seems that such a delay was of no consequence to your operations.”

He clasped his hands behind him. “Prepare your men to march. Return to Habersville with them in order to reap the benefits of our recent level up and rest. And provide a written report of any standout soldiers that should be considered for rewards.”

Quintus shifted slightly and cleared his throat. The men with him also exchanged glances. The reaction caught Tiberius off guard. “Is something the matter?”

“Sir. It’s just that… returning to Habersville may be unnecessary.”

He arched a questioning eyebrow. “And why is that? I understand if you are confident in the men’s ability to seize this city as they are. However…”

Quintus was already shaking his head. “No, sir. Allow me to explain. During the time that we’ve been stationed here, the men have not been idle. We have secured the surrounding area and its settlements. In doing so, we found a larger town an hour’s march north,” he gestured in its direction, “that contained a class stone.

“The last group of men should be returning from it later today. Everyone else has already assigned their stat points and dealt with their skills accordingly. Of course, if you wish for the men to return and rest, I will see to it immediately, but…”

Tiberius held up a hand to interrupt the man, a slight smile forming on his stony face. He’d entrusted Quintus with this responsibility because of his competence. But evidently, he’d underestimated his first centurion.

“I understand.” Tiberius said simply. “It seems I was too hasty with my orders. Regardless, this simply suggests to me that you and your men have earned your rest well. Especially considering that we have fresh troops and plenty of time, unless I’m mistaken.”

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“As I said, I will see to it if you wish. However…” Quintus motioned toward the city. “I do not believe we will need to wait much longer for the city to fall. They have been pushed to the brink by our tactics, it seems. I expect that the siege weaponry will be the final straw. And considering that my men have had ample time to recover during all of this, I would rather see this battle to its conclusion, if you have no objections.”

The Legatus nodded. “If that is your desire, then I see no reason to deny it. Speaking of the city’s fate… I am surprised that its leaders have made no overtures of surrender.”

“I am not.” Quintus pointed toward the center most of the eighteen dead men. “It’s a difficult thing for a dead man to surrender. And judging from his fate, I suspect that few are eager to follow in his footsteps.”

Tiberius shook his head. “I don’t know why I even bothered coming.”

***

Tiberius watched over the veritable wall of siege engines as the teams worked swiftly to prepare them. Cornelius hurried up and down the line at practically a sprint as the Legionnaires began setting things up, calibrating their aim and preparing ammunition.

The weapons were set up well outside of what Quintus had assessed to be the range of the city’s own defenses. Those were mostly limited to archers and the occasional magic spell of some sort, as they’d seen no evidence of siege weapons on the opposing side. Nor had they suffered any attacks from long-ranged skills that would have approximated artillery of any kind. Still, the Legion were prepared to deal with such things should it become necessary.

It wasn’t too difficult to position themselves so that they weren’t vulnerable but could still hit the walls. Soon enough, a series of probing shots hurtled toward the city, raining down inside its walls or slamming into them directly.

Tiberius’s eyes narrowed as the first trebuchet shots struck the tall stone fortifications and left behind a crack. A small crack, to be sure. But these were just testing shots. They had yet to utilize the good ammo or any of the men’s offensively-oriented skills. If they were already managing to damage the structure…

He set the matter aside for the moment. The time to test their artillery’s destructive capabilities would come soon enough. But for now, they had another goal in mind—winning the mental battle.

Cornelius practically skidded to a halt in front of him. A few beads of sweat populated the head engineer’s brow as he saluted. “Legatus. We are ready to begin.”

Tiberius nodded. “Excellent. Send the first wave.”

Cornelius gave him a thin smile before turning over his shoulder. “You heard the Legatus! Send him up!”

One of their larger catapults released, its bowl swinging high into the air with a whoosh. The arm hit the stop, sending its payload arcing toward the city with impressive speed… despite its irregular shape.

An observant onlooker might have noticed that there were now seventeen rather than eighteen figures hung before the city gates. Indeed, that was because the eighteenth was now on his way back home, albeit without his armor.

Not that his kinsmen would appreciate the gesture. A few days in the sun had allowed the corpse to begin decomposing just enough for the man’s visage and smell to be disturbing.

The Legion watched the dead man fly, letting out a loud cheer as he sailed over the wall. A minute later, the distant sounds of screaming rose from the city. The screams only intensified as they began firing pieces of the dead horses, each into a different area.

The timing was perfect for their purposes. The corpses had begun to rot and smell, but not enough to spread disease as efficiently as they might. After all, Tiberius didn’t want to cull the populace so much as subdue it, demoralize them to the point that they lost all will to fight.

Given that this would likely be a short siege anyway, it might be unnecessary. But he would never pass up a training opportunity for his men. Besides, given that they didn’t plan on massacring or enslaving the city, it would serve them well to make a clear example. If word spread about this event, then perhaps the next city might consider surrendering before things got to this point.

They slowed down after the initial onslaught. But every ten minutes, they fired another man or piece of horse into the city. Once the sun started to set, they had to pause, and they planned to resume their bombardment at dawn. But for now, they just settled in, the new men helping expand the fortifications as they joined the camp.

Yet as the day turned to night, Tiberius found himself facing his next responsibility—speaking with the captives Quintus had taken. Or rather, the captive. Only one of them might be worth talking to.

The young woman was dragged into his tent. She writhed and struggled against the guards, clearly not interested in cooperation or making it easy for them. Tiberius could make out her muffled protests behind the gag. When she was forced to her knees before him and her head pulled back to meet his gaze, he saw nothing but bitter hatred in her red-rimmed eyes.

He looked at her dispassionately. He knew who she was. Quintus had informed him of the situation, obviously. He just didn’t particularly care. Not past the benefits she could grant them through her ransom.

Still, he found himself somewhat disappointed. For a noble, she wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping her composure. Her rather emotional reaction regarding the death of her husband was also surprising. In his experience, marriages among nobility were more of a practical and political affair. Unless her reaction was simply for fear of her and her daughter?

It could be an act, but he struggled to see what she would gain from it. So he had to assume that this was genuine, which might make ransoming her a bit harder.

Tiberius could only shrug. Maybe the nobility in this world didn’t have the same norms and customs he was used to. Or maybe she was just unique. Marcus could probably help to enlighten him further, but he had yet to talk to the bard.

With s quiet word, he sent one of his aides to fetch the man. He’d meet with him afterwards. But for now, Tiberius just took a moment to watch the seething woman.

Eventually, he broke the silence, tapping his fingers on his desk.

“Lady Von Lattimore,” he began. “You and your daughter will be ransomed back to your father. We will be reaching out to him shortly to negotiate terms. As such, you need not fear for your safety or that of your daughter. However, I can also guarantee you some measure of comfort should you cooperate. All I require is for you to sit quietly for a few days while we figure out the particulars.”

He nodded to the guards, and one removed the gag from her mouth. She promptly spat on the ground.

“Fuck you.”

One of the guards roughly threw her to the ground and she wriggled in her bonds. Realizing that they wouldn’t be getting anywhere, Tiberius sighed and motioned for the Legionnaires to take her away. He would be well in his rights to have her executed, but that wouldn’t be profitable for the Legion right now.

He rubbed his forehead as she was dragged out of the tent. This was a headache he didn’t really need, but the Legion needed resources. Maybe he’d have one of his officers deal with her in the future.

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