B3 Chapter 37: The Clock Turning

The first thing Tiberius noticed was, of course, his level. Level 16. He had gained twelve levels. It was an utterly insane amount over such a short timespan, and not just by Legion standards, either. That was a level of growth that the locals usually measured in years, not weeks.

And with that obscene growth came equally obscene rewards. A hundred and twenty stat points to distribute was simply too much. The sum felt surreal. It honestly made him worry that assigning them all at once would prove too disorienting an experience to adapt to easily. Perhaps he’d need to take things slow and assign them in batches, just to be safe.

Either way, Tiberius took the opportunity to plan out where exactly those points should go. His new set of duties also meant that he had different priorities when it came to his stats. Dexterity and strength would prove even less useful to him now, as marching and fighting were no longer part of his main concerns. He had no desire to appear weak like the incompetent fops who lived the soft lives of politicians, of course. Yet he also couldn’t afford to divert much of his abilities away from the areas where it was truly needed. And when he did need to accompany his men on the march, he could simply use a horse. At least, now that Claude had reigned in his pet dragon once more.

Yet completely neglecting his physical stats seemed like a foolish idea, especially constitution. The number of emperors throughout history who fell prey to assassins was too large to count. It was possibly the most common fate for one in his position. And given Tiberius’s keen awareness of that fact, preparing defenses against it only seemed prudent.

Focusing on his constitution stat, Tiberius attempted to put ten points into it. Given how flush he was with them, it seemed like a reasonable amount to start with. Yet to his surprise, nothing happened.

He frowned and tried again. Then a third time, focusing harder. Working with the System menus had always felt effortless. Yet now, it simply refused to do as he bid.

Out of curiosity, Tiberius tried assigning one point into charisma. The number went up as it was supposed to. The same held true for intelligence and wisdom as well. But any and all attempts to do the same for his physical stats were simply met with failure. Simple, unexplained failure.

That was… troublesome. Tiberius drummed his fingers against the class stone in thought. He’d obviously intended to focus on his mental skills, as that was what the majority of his responsibilities would benefit from. Yet the idea that he had no choice in the matter…

He resolved to make some inquiries about the limitation. Perhaps the Grand Mage or Marcus would know something about this. Although if it were a quirk of his mythical class, then perhaps it would be just as surprising to others as it was to him.

For now, he put nine more points into charisma, wisdom, and intelligence for a total of ten each. Instantly, he felt the changes. His posture straightened and he felt more relaxed, only to tense as a headache threatened to split his skull in half. The sheer volume of new information racing through his mind like a herd of wild horses threatened to overwhelm him.

Tiberius gritted his teeth, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. He then repeated the action and put ten more points into each mental stat. When the reaction intensified even further and nearly caused him to double over, he decided to leave his last sixty points alone for the moment. Getting the rest assigned wasn’t worth rendering himself comatose. An additional twenty points in each stat would be enough for now.

Instead, he focused on his skills. A review of his current loadout made one thing clear, he needed a complete overhaul. Half of them were practically useless to him now. Some, like [Regal Bearing] and [Diplomacy], would obviously see plenty of use in the coming weeks and months. But [Rallying Cry]? If he was close enough to the fighting to utilize such a skill at this point, then both he and his men had failed on a multitude of levels.

He flicked over to his skill list to check for replacements. There, he was greeted with a welcome notification. He had an evolution available.

[You have new skill evolutions available. View available evolutions? WARNING: After viewing, unassigned evolutions will be permanently lost!]

Of course, he said yes.

Available Skill Evolutions:

[Keen Eye] (Uncommon) -> [Eagle’s Eye] (Rare)

The sight was quite honestly a welcome one. [Keen Eye] was one of those skills that always saw use, so an upgrade to it was certain to come in handy. After all, he would doubtless still be leading men in battle, perhaps even further from the front than before.

It was perhaps not the most exciting upgrade, but that was fine as well. Although perhaps it would surprise him. Being able to emulate the qualities of the regal bird sitting atop his Legions’ standards was certain to be a good thing.

With that taken care of, Tiberius turned his attention to his other skills. Along with his influx of levels, he’d gained quite a number of new options—some of which looked quite promising indeed.

With a twinge of regret, he said goodbye to [Swordsmastery]. As much as he enjoyed having the skill, it was a vanity he could no longer afford. One made even more useless so long as his physical stats remained stagnant. He quickly slotted all of the new options to save them before finally settling on one called [Balanced Judgement]. The impression it gave him was that it would assist with settling disputes and evaluating the claims brought before him, giving him more complete and unbiased information. But how exactly that worked remained to be seen. For now, he’d give it a shot.

[Delegation] was another skill he picked up. Though he considered himself quite good at it already, the skill apparently conferred additional benefits when assigning men to tasks. It allowed him to buff them based on a fraction of his stats, something that would be far more relevant now. In exchange, he dropped [Logistics]. As useful as it was, that was also certainly something that he’d be delegating going forward. He was the emperor now, not a Legatus. And while he would keep [Military Leadership] for the foreseeable future, he also recognized a need to step back somewhat.

There were a few more he recognized from overviews and skill lists he’d been given by the Grand Mage and simply found in books. [Royal Proclamation] allowed him to send notifications to citizens and the populace of his nation, something that would certainly prove useful, especially if he could exercise discretion in the recipients. [Bestow Nobility]

was fairly self-explanatory, and also quite relevant already.

He dropped [Rallying Cry] and [Warpath] for the two skills, feeling another complicated mix of emotions at losing the Legion’s marching skill. Even though he’d already decided that it wouldn’t be of service to him, it was yet another example of the growing distance between him and his men.

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Checking over his sheet one more time, Tiberius nodded with satisfaction and stepped back. The worst of the backlash from his sudden influx of stats had faded, though it had yet to disperse entirely. But he had no intention of letting anyone else see that.

Turning away from the stone, he recalled his guards and headed for the door. He’d dallied for long enough. Now, it was time to get back to running his empire.

***

The rapid footfalls of the Legion’s caligae marching in unison rolled across the increasingly mountainous terrain like an incoming storm. Yet the sound was a bit more muted than one might expect, belying their actual numbers. The footfalls of the elven Legionnaires made certain of that, their steps culminating in little more than a loud whisper as they marched alongside their human brethren.

The sight was… strange. It wasn’t that Quintus had anything particularly against the elves. His emperor had decreed them Romans and Legionnaires just as he and his own were. Yet their current situation was quite a departure from standard practice.

Rather than sending the First Legion to pursue the orcs alone, it had been decided that Gaius would lead a handful of cohorts from his legion, as well as a few from the elven legion as well. The result was a combination of the two separate legions marching together in a strange fusion of forces.

It was completely against the norm. A legion followed their Legatus. That was how things worked. They could be split into smaller functional units, of course, or take on additional troops such as they did with auxiliaries. But a legion following a Legatus that was not their own? Mixing parts of two separate entities together? Quintus didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Had it happened before? Certainly. But those were often cases where the legions had taken enough losses for one to simply be subsumed into the other. In this case, after their campaign was done, the elves would go back to their own Legatus once more.

Of course, Quintus knew why it was happening. It was a way to get Gaius, the elves, and the human Legionnaires experience working with one another, while also keeping a force at the capital where it was needed. Tactically, it wasn’t a bad idea either. The elves specialized in ranged, sustained damage that even the spears and slings of the First Legion couldn’t match—a specialty that would only become more devastating as they grew in levels. That was something that could be best leveraged from behind the fortifications of a shield wall, one more robust than they could manage themselves in the wide open fields or mountains they now found themselves in. And something they had used to great effect on the scattered warbands they’d encountered on the march.

Still, it would take some getting used to. Legionnaires though they may be, Quintus didn’t know them like he did his own men. But perhaps that was something that battle would fix.

“You look tense, uncle.”

Quintus turned his attention away from the green cloaks fluttering in the wind and toward Gaius, who rode beside him atop a brown mare. “It would be foolish to relax. Though Rome has claimed this territory, that doesn’t mean that it’s entirely safe for us.”

“I know, I know,” Gaius sighed. “But you don’t look tense like you’re looking for battle. You look more… uncomfortable?”

He cursed the young man’s insight, but tried not to show it. Evidently he failed. Gaius grinned boyishly. “Missing a saddle already? You know, I’d be more than happy to promote you to officer…”

“No.” Quintus shut him down emphatically. He’d already endured enough jokes from the men about such things. Continuing on horseback now would only exacerbate rumors of him going soft.

The boy’s grin remained, causing Quintus to shake his head in disapproval. He had once more returned to his post as Primus Pilus, since Devin and his cavalry had been left behind for this campaign. The terrain of Corwyn Pass was not particularly favorable to their fighting style, and the jagged mountains the orcs called home were little better. And despite their wealth of experience, Quintus didn’t begrudge he and his men the opportunity to do something else for a change. Such as securing the interior of Novara’s territory against bandits, orcs, and potentially rebellious nobles. Alongside a contingent of Legionnaires, of course.

The profile of Corwyn Pass soon came into view—at least, what remained of it. The towering walls and high cliffs that Devin had spoken of were now reduced to rubble, caved in to fill in the narrow path. Yet despite the sheer amount of rock and stone, Quintus was able to spot a narrow channel that had been dug through it, as though a worm had roughly nibbled its way through a massive apple. It had been stabilized by beams and frameworks, but still looked a bit less stable than Quintus would have preferred.

A smaller group of Legionnaires greeted them as they approached, saluting as they headed through. “Legatus Gaius! Primus Pilus!”

They returned the salutes as they went through. These men had been responsible for holding the pass since the orcish invasion had been rebuffed, and were one of the few groups of Legionnaires stationed along the border. The rest of it was still being secured by Novara’s old military.

It was a bit counterintuitive, but made sense. The Legion simply didn’t have the manpower to hold the entire border themselves, not while also doing everything else that was required of them. Holding provinces against external forces wasn’t their specialty, either. They excelled at conquest and putting down internal rebellions. Spreading themselves so thin would also negate a number of the advantages they had from their class.

Quintus was certain that Tiberius had made other considerations when deciding on this path, though he wasn’t entirely certain how he intended to keep their loyalty. Perhaps that was one of the other aims of their current campaign. To ensure that these men who had spent who knows how long away at war could finally return home to their familes, earning some goodwill that way. Or perhaps he’d just prevent information about the king’s fall from reaching them. Either way, it wasn’t Quintus’s concern. Though he suspected that they would eventually be brought in and properly trained as auxiliaries once the situation permitted it.

They wound through the pass in a single file column and emerged into a barren landscape of craters and boulders. It resembled the ground left behind after one of the Legion’s battles, though the bodies were replaced with jagged spires of stone rising into the air like blades cutting through the earth itself. Not particularly hospitable.

Still, despite the obvious hostility of the terrain, the value of this area became immediately apparent to Quintus. Veins of ore clearly ran through the stone rising from the earth, as obvious as ripe fruit dangling from a tree. He was no expert in identifying such things, but the fact that it was present at all was quite telling. This place was simply rich in unexplored resources. It reminded Quintus of parts of northern Italy, but even more rich.

No wonder Novara had wanted this land. The orcs didn’t even know the riches they sat atop.

“Sir,” Quintus heard a scout rush up to Gaius. “There is evidence of a settlement nearby.”

The Legatus nodded. “Is it populated?”

“No, sir. Completely empty. Yet they couldn’t have been gone long. The hearths are still warm, and the stench of orc still fills the air. It doesn’t appear that they fled in a hurry, though.”

Gaius frowned. “Understood. See if you can find where they went.”

The scout saluted and disappeared as Gaius turned to Quintus. “Thoughts?”

Quintus considered the information. “It’s possible that they knew we were coming, but unlikely. If that were the case, they’d be more likely to rush us rather than retreat.”

Gaius took a moment to think. He’d been truly starting to come into his own as Legatus on this campaign. He didn’t hesitate to consult Quintus on quite a number of matters, but even without that, the boy appeared to be making fewer mistakes than even a few weeks before. It was good to see.

“Hmmm… I don’t think this is evidence of an ambush, but it’s best to proceed with caution,” Gaius finally said. “We’ll need to keep an eye out for more signs like this. If they are massing for another assault already… Perhaps we’ll find this campaign more exciting than we initially expected.”

Quintus shook his head. “‘Exciting’ is not the term I would use. Nor is it something I’d particularly seek out. Boring and predictable missions are the ones that result in the fewest losses.”

“Come now, uncle,” Gaius admonished. “You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t enjoy the thrill of a good battle? If so, I believe you’re in the wrong line of work.”

“That’s not what I—”

Gaius shook his head regretfully. “It’s all right—I hear you loud and clear. I’ll make sure to process your promotion as soon as we return. If boring is what you want, then I’ll make absolutely certain that you have it. It’s the least I can do to repay all the good work you’ve done.”

Quintus just glared at the grinning youth.

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