B3 Chapter 26: Turtling Up

One of the Legion’s specialist units consisted of an entire century dedicated to one goal—defense.

They were the largest group of specialists that Tiberius had approved to date, and for good reason. Their greater numbers ensured that the formation benefitted from the natural scaling of [Coordinated Bulwark] alongside a dozen or more other defensively-based skills. All of them layered atop each other to form as ironclad a defense as Tiberius had ever seen.

One might argue that this was unnecessary, given how capable the Legionnaires’ normal shield walls proved. But there were stronger forces out there, ones that would undoubtedly be able to contest even a wall composed of six thousand men. Besides, having the entire Legion form a single wall could be cumbersome and inconvenient in many cases.

At Gaius’s command, the men began to creep forward in a turtle formation that appeared nearly impregnable. Not even a tiny slit remained for the enemy to take advantage of, the men forgoing offense in favor of more resilience.

Just because the gate was no more didn’t mean that they had won. Tiberius wasn’t nearly that stupid. There were still the defenders atop the wall to contend with—and given the levels his scouts reported, they wouldn’t be so simple to get through.

It was the ranged fighters that began first. Arrows imbued with a dizzying array of effects sizzled and streaked through the air, only to scatter before they came within a foot of the formation. Waterfalls of glowing rock and shimmering elemental orbs accomplished little more as they split and sputtered out before they could threaten the Legionnaires.

The onslaught thickened until the air was dense with attacks and skills. Tiberius looked to Gaius. “Status.”

The young legatus frowned. “The stamina drain is noticeable, but not catastrophic. They should be able to keep this up for a while yet, perhaps a few hours? Assuming this is all the Novarans have in store, that is.”

Tiberius nodded. Given his recent class change, he no longer personally felt the drain of the Legion’s skill usage. It meant he needed to rely on others to gauge how sustainable such extreme skill use as this would be.

The turtle of Legionnaires moved steadily toward the newly added hole in the castle gate. Just past the threshold, Tiberius could make out a line of melee fighters gathering there, all prepared to face the incoming attack—a combination of uniformly armored guardsmen, ornately dressed knights, and adventurers wearing everything from furs to thin silken robes that hardly covered any skin at all. All of them drew their weapons in expectation of a fight.

When they were about a hundred feet out, the ground in front of the Legionnaires’ formation exploded. Chunks of stone sprayed across the shields alongside the hail of attacks from above. The sheer force of the impact sent the men skittering back as one, their caligae sliding along the stones in unison.

Tiberius lowered his arm from where it had instinctively risen to cover his face. A crater not unlike the one they had left in the gate now smoked in the Legionnaires’ path. Hovering above it was a single robed figure, his long hair fluttering in a sourceless breeze. He looked down at the Legionnaires with an almost bored expression.

“Unfortunately for you,” the figure said, “I’m contractually obligated to ensure that you don’t step beyond this point. I’d much appreciate it if you didn’t make me expend more effort on doing my job than necessary.”

The Legionnaires hesitated, uncertain of whether or not to progress. An aide leaned over and spoke to Tiberius in a low voice.

“It’s a [Force Mage], sir,” the man reported. “Level 32. Others of similar level are making themselves known as well.”

The emperor nodded. He could see the others in question as they elbowed to the front of the defenders’ lines—an armored royal guard, a scowling and unarmed woman bedecked in furs, an old man in loose clothing with a long sword… them and many others. Both sides waited to see to what the other would do next

He’d known to expect powerful individuals. This was, after all, the reasonable place for them to have fallen back to. The question was, were they prepared to face these powerhouses?

Tiberius took another look at the crater and turned to Gaius. “Order the men to fall back for now.”

The new legatus looked surprised. “Sir?”

“We are in no rush,” Tiberius explained. “Our forces are still spread thin. We will secure our position within the city and create better conditions for our attack. In the meantime, let them starve.”

True, individuals required far less food or sleep as they grew in level. But they still needed something. And with the number of people in that castle… Tiberius couldn’t imagine their supplies would last long.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The turtle slowly retreated backward. In response, the Novaran defenders celebrated their apparent victory. They jeered at the Legionnaires as they moved, continuing to hurl spells, arrows, and insults—all of which were summarily ignored.

Though their initial assault had been rebuffed, it was not a defeat. Not in Tiberius’s eyes. Rather, he considered the information they’d learned from this probing attack quite valuable. Many of the enemy forces had come out of hiding, giving them a better idea of what they were up against. And the list of classes his scouts had gathered was certain to be useful for formulating a plan.

“I have other matters to tend to,” Tiberius informed Gaius. “I will leave this situation in your hands. Remain vigilant and keep them contained.”

Gaius nodded. “Yes, sir. I will see it done.”

With that, the emperor turned and headed back toward the city proper. Dealing with the noble houses, arranging sweeps of the interior, cataloging the resources and personnel available… There were any number of actions he’d need to take in order to see the city brought under control and utilized effectively. And there was no reason not to get ahead on such matters.

A flash of purple cloth caught his attention. Turning toward a nearby street, he saw Marcus and a contubernium of Legionnaires heading his way. The bard looked distinctly disheveled, the man staggering forth as though drunk or on his last legs.

Tiberius frowned. Such a lack of decorum was uncharacteristic of the bard. But he smelled no alcohol as the man approached. Between that and the occasional steadying hand the men reached out toward him, it seemed as though Marcus was simply exhausted.

Still, the bard seemed to pull himself together a bit as he approached. Tiberius motioned for his guards to allow the man through. Stepping before him, Marcus gave a flamboyant, if unsteady, bow.

“Emperor. I bring news from deeper within the city. It appears that a new… complication has arisen.”

“So I am told.” Tiberius had already been informed of the church’s aggression by his messengers. “Speak.”

The bard straightened, then gladly did as he was bid. Too

gladly. Rather than a concise report, the man launched into a full retelling of his encounter with the orcs and priests of Arashim, complete with dramatic flourishes and descriptions of the local Novarans’ near-fatal last stand.

Tiberius sighed inwardly but didn’t let a hint of his annoyance touch his face. Occasionally, the Legionnaires that had accompanied Marcus would chime in to ground the daring tale back down in reality—something that Marcus clearly did not appreciate, even if Tiberius did. Though he had never known the bard to lie, he did have a way of molding the truth to fit whatever narrative or story he happened to be telling.

Yet despite all of the clear embellishments, Tiberius found himself sizing up the bard with a modicum more respect than before. The man was clever and adept at weaseling his way out of most any situation. So much so that it was easy to forget that he could sometimes have a backbone. Just like when he’d fought alongside Gaius and his men in the colosseum.

Tiberius didn’t allow his thoughts to show, however. Instead, he simply nodded as Marcus concluded his tale.

“I see. What do you make of this development?”

Marcus mused. “Personally? I’d be quite shocked if these priests were the only ones making such a move. From what I recall, there were at least a few other churches who fought alongside Arashim’s at Habersville, and he is certainly not starved for allies in the pantheon.”

“Hmmm.” Tiberius tapped his bicep. “Very well. We shall speak further about these ‘allies’ later.”

“With all due respect, emperor, I am more than willing to—”

“The men will be warned of the threat. I will have men locate and watch the local churches to see what they are up to as well,” Tiberius explained. “From your tale, the might they can bring to bear is not to be underestimated. But they are far from the only faction we need concern ourselves with. For now, you are dismissed.”

Marcus flashed him a smile and another bow, accepting the dismissal without protest. The bard’s eyes had begun to droop noticeably even as he stood there. In this state, Tiberius rather doubted whether such a conversation would be productive.

He watched the bard leave, heading toward the nearest concentration of Legionnaires—likely to ask for directions to camp. Between his efforts with the nobility and this matter of the churches, the man had proved quite useful once again. Perhaps it was time to reward him for his loyalty.

That was a matter for later. For now, he simply relayed a few orders to his aides and turned toward his other tasks.

A quick report on the reinforcements sent to aid Quintus revealed good news. The Primus Pilus and his cavalry had managed to thin the orc horde considerably and chase off the remainder. They had taken losses, but not catastrophic ones. In hindsight, he’d likely undermanned his first centurion’s infantry, an oversight that could have saved additional lives.

It was a reminder that even he was human—and capable of making mistakes. Something that he needed to remain vigilant of. As emperor, there were even fewer people willing to disagree with him and his orders. The ability to remain self-critical would be even more invaluable now.

He relayed an order for Quintus and his men to pursue the orcs and harry their retreat. Fighting the barbarians off, only to have them disperse across the countryside, wouldn’t do anyone any good.

He sent along additional men for good measure, well-rested ones that could help to relieve the toll of the previous battle. Judging by the route these orcs were taking, they would be heading back towards Corwyn’s gap. That meant Quintus and his men would be gone for a couple of days in their mission. Time that would allow Tiberius to shore things up within the city itself.

Arrangements were made to expand Rome’s influence throughout the city, secure it, and handle the noble families Marcus had marked. Some of the positive or neutrally-oriented ones he planned to visit himself in the coming days. The others… Their rubble would make a fine place to begin new constructions. After all, his men needed quarters, and he had yet to see a bathhouse in the city.

Tiberius continued on his way, moving deeper into the capital as he let the castle stew.

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