B2 Chapter 71: We Are Legion

The journey to the mustering grounds was not a long one. They were located a little ways from the city, right by a small monster nest that apparently needed extermination. Of course, such a task would have been trivial for the men already present, but they waited before acting to expedite their brethren’s travels.

Quintus took on a deep breath of the air. Dusty as it was with the passage of so many men, it still smelled of freedom to him. He had spent far too long sitting behind a desk, his training and fighting limited to the mere few hours a day he could claw for himself. But now, he was back where he belonged—on the field, and soon to be on campaign once more.

He would have even said that he was enjoying himself, if not for the ancient man next to him.

“…So your [Coordinated Offense] skill evolved after you intentionally tried to warp it into an offensive use case? I see, I see…” The white-haired Grand Mage muttered before addressing him once again. “And have you tried using it to not only identify an enemy’s tactics, but to twist or influence them as well?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have been otherwise occupied since gaining the skill.”

“Well, it’s not like we have much else to do on this march!” The old man grinned. “Go on, try it out!”

“There are no enemies nearby.” Quintus ground out. Though he was very close to considering this old man one.

“Ah, right.” The mage sighed. “Pity. Well, once we run across something I must insist that you try. In the meantime…”

The mad mage continued to pepper him with questions constantly, with such frequency that it became impossible for Quintus to fall into the near-meditative state that usually characterized his marches. He had joined up with Tiberius’s entourage as they set out, but had immediately latched onto Quintus and all but ignored both the emperor and the other men around them. Quintus had hoped that [Warpath] would allow them to outpace the man and leave him in the dust, but he’d been sadly mistaken. The mage had simply produced a small pillow of some sort and began floating beside him, inexplicably keeping up despite his best efforts.

The first centurion resisted the urge to groan as he glanced at Tiberius’s back. The emperor had warned him about the mage and instructed him to be forthcoming about his skills and capabilities, as the man was apparently quite knowledgeable about them. And who would say no to advice on how to further improve one’s power and abilities?

Yet what had begun as a simple report had quickly turned into a constant slew of demands for additional information and demonstrations of different kinds of uses. Quintus was beginning to feel more like a show horse or a gladiator on display for betting. He couldn’t even tune the old man out, given the mage’s annoying ability to make his voice louder and louder and louder until Quintus’s ears rang and he eventually answered.

Luckily, their speedsaved him from having to suffer the man for too long. They soon crested a final hill and looked down over the flattened area of the mustering ground. A massive host had already converged upon it, composed of two groups—the red and gold of his fellow Legionnaires, as well as an army of other elven figures clad in greens and browns. The sight was finally enough to make the mage shut the fuck up, much to Quintus’s relief.

As their group began descending toward the men, Quintus noted a group of Legionnaires off to the side. They were arrayed in a shield wall, penning in a small herd of some kind of monstrous deer creatures with barbed and thorny antlers. The creatures battered uselessly against the crimson and gold fortifications over and over, trying in vain to escape.

With Tiberius’s arrival, a shout went up. Immediately, the shield wall sprang into action, blades sliding between the gaps as they slew the beasts with brutal efficiency. Quintus felt the effects of [Warpath] fade as the “battle” before him ended.

Their group stopped before the massed troops. Already the Legion had formed up into their standard ranks by century and cohort. But to Quintus’s surprise, the elves’ formation mirrored their own.

Ten groups of men, each consisting of eighty to a hundred and twenty men, stood in neatly arranged rows before them. In front of each stood a single elf, his armor slightly finer and more ornamental than that of his brethren. Each and every elf stood at rapt attention—a level of discipline that Quintus appreciated after his dealings with the auxiliaries.

However, while the groups appeared to be organized similarly on the surface, a closer look indicated some rather glaring differences. Every single one of the six thousand foreign “legionnaires” was armed with a longbow and a pair of quivers hanging from each hip. A pair of long daggers were slung over their backs, the hilts visible over their right shoulders, while the bow was slung over their left. Moreover, the elves bore shields that were small and round, fitting entirely on the forearm and curving outwards just enough that they wouldn’t affect one’s ability to hold a bow. Their brown and green armor and helms appeared to be crafted of wood, though their construction was of no like that Quintus had ever seen.

It was different from the Legion’s equipment by a significant margin. Still, Quintus could see how it would be deadly effective, especially in a forest. Large volleys of arrows in trees didn’t work very well, but neither did large shield walls. And based on what he’d heard, with the accuracy these archers could boast? Even compared to the Legion’s own abilities and advanced skills, he could imagine that this would be an incredibly deadly force.

As Tiberius stood before the men, both forces saluted in unison. The resulting clatter of gauntleted fists on chestplates cracked through the air like a peal of thunder in the clear sky. The emperor nodded with approval as Quintus moved to take a spot behind the emperor, a step and a half behind and to his right. The aquilifer Lucius mirrored his position on the other side and set the Legion’s standard against the ground.

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A pair of figures strode down the center of the elven formation. The first was a tall, regal-looking elf wearing helm plumed with pure, almost luminous white. Behind him followed a second elf, this one bearing an elegant and perfectly straight branch of white wood. Sitting atop it was a familiar golden eagle, its wings spread wide to either side.

The elven legatus and aquilifer came to a halt before Tiberius, then fell to one knee. The rest of the elven forces followed suit in a ripple behind him.

“Emperor.” The elf said, his head bowed. “It is an honor to present my men before you. We have long waited for the day that Rome would rise from the ashes and reclaim its former glory. And now, to be granted the opportunity to assist with that effort… The gods have truly smiled on us this day.”

Tiberius looked down at the elf. “What is your name?”

“Sylendor Florus, sir.”

He nodded. “Sylendor. You and your men are prepared to serve Rome? To serve me?”

“Nothing would please me more, emperor.” The elf responded immediately, without a single hint of hesitation.

“I see.” Tiberius looked out over the field of green before him. “Give me your oath, then.”

“With pleasure, sir!”

The elves began to speak. As one, they recited the words that were all too familiar to Quintus—the sacramentum militare, the oath of duty that he himself had sworn upon joining the Legion.

“The soldiers swear that they shall faithfully execute all that the Emperor commands, that they shall never desert the service, and that they shall never seek to avoid death for the Roman Empire!”

The words were slightly different, but not so much as Quintus might have expected. It seemed that the elves’ claim to have faithfully maintained the ways of the empire were no mere bluster. Even if they had made some adjustments.

As they finished, Tiberius nodded with satisfaction. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I accept your oath of service. Stand.”

The elves didn’t have time to comply. As soon as Tiberius finished speaking, their forces erupted with radiant white light as though a second sun had appeared before Quintus’s very eyes. He squeezed them shut, but managed to avoid flinching. He was beginning to become accustomed to being blinded like this. Though judging by the storm of curses that filled his ears, that sentiment was not shared universally.

A few seconds passed as everyone blinked away the stars and slowly regained their vision. When they did, Quintus saw that the elves had regained their feet and many were placing reflexively drawn weapons behind their backs once more. A sea of eyes widened in surprise beneath gleaming helmets of polished wood, scanning the air in disbelief and excitement.

“Hmmm.”

A small noise from Tiberius drew Quintus’s attention away from the sight. The man was also scanning the air before him, undoubtedly reading some sort of System notification. When he had finished, he looked out across the assembled forces.

“It appears that our timetable has been moved up.” The old soldier said quietly. Then, louder, he called across the field. “Gaius Magnus Agrippa! Step forward!”

The boy did as he was bid. He’d already been at the front of the Roman Legion’s formation along with the other officers, so he didn’t have far to travel. He hastened forward as quickly as he could manage without appearing to rush.

“Emperor.” Gaius saluted as he came to a halt.

Tiberius looked at the young officer for a long moment. Then, he began to speak—not just to him, but the whole assembled host. His voice carried across the field as it was amplified by his skills.

“I have long been the Legatus of this Legion. I have led you through many campaigns and stood with you through countless battles. Together, we have faced each and every foe in our path, and together, we have seen them fall before us like wheat before the scythe. We have stood tall and proud in the face of each and every obstacle set before us. All to bring glory and honor to Rome— in our first world, this world, and the next.”

He paused as roaring cheers welled up from the men. Spears clattered against shields in thunderous applause as every heart filled with pride. As the sound subsided, Tiberius continued.

“And as we have civilized this world around us and bent it to Rome’s will, we too have changed. We have adapted and grown, seizing every advantage to further establish our dominance. We have built off these advantages to become stronger than ever before. We have ensured that, even here, the name of the Legion sends fear into the hearts of any who would think to oppose us.”

Tiberius clasped his hands behind his back. “Throughout all of this, I have led you. I have guided you and steered your course unwaveringly, as is my responsibility. It is a duty that I have borne gladly all these years… And it is one that I must now bestow upon another.

“I must pass on this burden in order to take on a more weighty one—that of emperor.” Tiberius raised his chin. “I must accept this responsibility and stand, not just for our Legion, but for Rome itself. I must chart a course through this foreign world, not just for us, but for each and every citizen of our empire. I must dedicate myself to this task in full—and as such, I must leave the title of Legatus to another. As we together have adapted and grown, so too must I.”

Tiberius nodded to Gaius, whose eyes had gone round. “Gaius Magnus Agrippa! The position of Legatus is a heavy burden to bear. It is a responsibility and an honor offered to but a few capable men. Are you prepared to accept it?”

Gaius fell to one knee. “I am, emperor!”

“Then I will have your oath.”

Gaius repeated the sacramentum militare—the one that Quintus was familiar with, this time. As he finished, Tiberius bid him to rise and turn to the Legion.

“I present to you Legatus Gaius! May he lead you to victory on every battlefield. For the glory of Rome!”

“For the glory of Rome!”

The shout was echoed in every throat—even those of the elves. Three cheers of “Ha-ooh! Ha-ooh! Ha-ooh!” rose up from the gathered host and filled the air. Then, Quintus was once again blinded.

This time, the Legion wasn’t caught quite as off guard by the event, and Quintus heard far fewer curses as a result. It took another moment for his vision to return for the second time. Then Quintus found the golden text of a notification waiting for him.

[System-wide announcement: The mythical class of Emperor has been claimed by Tiberius Rufius Maro. All glory to the Emperor!]

An explosion sounded above him, then another. Quintus instinctively ducked, only to relax once he saw the source. Fireworks. Giant flashes of multicolored light that filled the sky above them to celebrate, courtesy of their mages.

The size of them was… worrying, to say the least. If directed at an actual target, Quintus wondered how much of it would have remained intact. And if this was what they could accomplish now…

“Long live the emperor!”

The Primus Pilus turned. The twin legions before them had only taken a moment longer to recover. Their shouts and cheers rose in volume until they were nearly deafening, competing with the explosions above for dominance. Beneath it all, he could just hear the sound of an ancient old mage cackling madly in the background.

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