B3 Chapter 56: Field Trip

Quintus took stock of the situation. [Coordinated Bulwark] was no more. The enemy had roused themselves out of their mindless rage. The supernatural, System-granted senses that allowed him to instantaneously grasp the state of the battlefield had also disappeared, leaving him blind and exposed.

A brief glance around revealed that he wasn’t the only one affected. Men to both of his sides wore expressions of surprise, confusion, and stone-faced defiance. Some were even tinged with a touch of fear.

Without hesitation, he raised his voice. “Form up! Stand your ground!”

They were just words, no longer imparting the same depth of meaning as before. But it was enough. Quintus had long learned to be heard over the dying screams of many. And while their opponents may remain bigger and stronger than actual men, they were hardly louder.

The command was enough to snap his men back to the present. Jaws clenched in grim determination as the line snapped together once more, the gaps tightening as years of experience kicked in.

“The plan is unchanged! Advance!”

His shout carried and was echoed up and down the line as they began to move as one—albeit much more slowly than before. There was little else they could do. Retreating at the moment would ensure a quick death for all of them, even if they did have a fortified position to fall back to.

Quintus fought with renewed vigor, stabbing out at an orc as it grabbed the shield of his neighbor. The wood creaked and splintered under the creature’s grip. With a mighty roar, it pulled the man forward, prying him out of the wall. Quintus quickly grabbed the man’s shoulder, practically throwing him back to safety as another man deftly slotted into place to plug the gap. It seemed that their stats had remained untouched, at least.

They braced against their enemies, who hammered against the wall relentlessly. It was clear that their attacks had lost some of their power and energy. But given that the Legionnaires had lost much of their own defense, it still felt as though the barbarians hammered upon them with the fury of an angry god.

Another man was yanked out of position. This one proved less fortunate than the last. A stone axe bit deep into his neck and he crumpled in a spray of red. Quintus grimaced at the sight. No knife of cold dread pierced his insides at the loss—though it also meant that the flood of energy that he’d also come to associate with a comrade’s death failed to manifest. It was isolating. Despite fighting alongside his brothers, it was the most disconnected Quintus had felt from them since arriving in this world.

Quintus bellowed another command as he jabbed his sword between the shields in a smooth thrust. Just because he lacked skills didn’t mean he was useless. After all, earning [Swordsmastery] was not some fluke. It was a reward for his own competence and abilities.

The tip of his blade slid smoothly into his opponent’s ribs and pulled back. All along the line, similar thrusts met flesh and the stone of enemy weapons as they continued to batter at the opposition. Quintus heard a dull gurgle as the one before him clutched its side and fell. Its clear eyes held something different now, with its dying breath. A hint of hesitation… and maybe fear?

Quintus didn’t need to rally his men. They continued striking out, methodically working to push the opponent back. He saw that hint of fear reflected in more eyes with every step. Not all of them—plenty of the orcs continued to exhibit their stupid bravery as they launched themselves forward. But their assault didn’t feel as suicidally relentless as before.

A snarled order came from near the back of the orcish formation, its source invisible to Quintus’s eye. It sounded muffled and indistinct to his ear. Clearly, this commander was not as practiced at cutting through the din of battle with his words. Yet the fact that he was even trying to bring order to the chaos, rather than simply throwing himself into battle…

More orders were called out as other orcs tried to corral their brethren. The rear of the mob began to split, scrambling up the terrain to try and come behind the Legion. At the same time, Quintus watched the shield wall suffer two breaches further down.

He swore internally. Given the current situation, it was all too likely that the skills of their messengers were also out of commission. Which meant that Gaius may not know exactly what was going on here, and if he did, the orders would take time to reach them. Time they couldn’t afford with the threat coming in quickly.

Quintus rotated out of the wall and made for the end of their formation. He had to trust that the other centurions could manage the breaks in the wall. But it fell to him to organize a defense against this greater threat.

The orcs came crashing down on their flanks, forcing the line to bend slightly. The Legion attempted to turn to meet the charge, but between the newcomers and the threat before them, they couldn’t manage it entirely. Quintus barked as he ran. “Elves! Shield wall, now!”

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The green-clad legionnaires had been hailing arrows upon their foes the entire time, slowing the advance. Yet it wasn’t enough to stop it entirely. Worse, their rate of fire had reduced to a mere trickle of what it had been before. Added to the lack of explosions, grasping vines, and other supernatural effects usually applied to their arrows… the soldiers had better things to do.

To their credit, the elves didn’t hesitate in the slightest. They rushed forward to reinforce the Legion, locking their comparatively small shields together to form an extension of the wall. They were not built for the same kind of impenetrable formation as the Legion’s rectangular ones. But they made up for that deficiency by bunching more tightly together, overlapping the bucklers like the scales of a fish.

The orcs didn’t allow the reinforcements to go uncontested, of course. Quintus saw a dozen men die in a second before the shield wall closed ranks and began to consolidate. But it gave them the space they needed.

Quintus gave orders to turn and face, forming three sides of a long rectangle. The hasty formation managed to stifle the enemy’s approach and catch them from assaulting their backs. Even better, a dull series of thwacks echoed across the field as a quarrel of ballista bolts fired into their foes. The formerly unceasing weapon fell silent a moment later as the men began to reload. But Quintus could hardly spare the attention. Though the situation was stabilizing, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t collapse at a moment’s notice.

A messenger sprinted toward him with astonishing speed. “Primus Pilus! Orders from the Legatus!”

Quintus turned to receive the man, keeping one eye on the battle. “Speak, man.”

“We pull back,” the messenger panted between breaths. “Fighting retreat. Whatever they did to skills, ends half a mile back. Men past that weren’t affected. Like me.”

That was news. And it certainly explained the man’s incredible speed. That also meant that whatever this effect was, it wasn’t continuous. It had been a one-time thing. Unless they used it again, of course.

“Got it,” the centurion nodded. “Tell Gaius to be ready. I won’t put it past them to use it again.”

With a quick salute, the messenger began tearing away once more. Quintus wasted no time in disseminating the orders. It wouldn’t be easy, but given their current capabilities, pulling back would put them in a far better position to defend. Something that they’d need, given the fact that more orcs would be incoming once the bard finished leading them around. Assuming this all hadn’t ruined that plan as well.

***

Tiberius stepped toward the training field. It had expanded even further than before as logging operations had cleared nearly a league of space all the way to the river. It was an unavoidable consequence of the sheer amount of construction being done all around the empire, and the timber was constantly being shipped all throughout Novara. Hopefully the elves wouldn’t take too much issue with the development. Not that their approval would cause Tiberius to stop, of course. But perhaps they had some ways of ensuring that they replenished the resource as fast as it was used.

All around the field, groups of the auxiliaries drilled under the watchful eyes of centurions. Rows upon rows of men practiced moving in unison, flowing smoothly between formations as Legionnaires called them out. Occasionally, a man or contubernium would be called out for sloppiness or for moving too slowly. But for the most part, the only sounds were the barks of the Legionnaires and the clatter of shields and swords.

At Tiberius’s approach, the current drills were called to a halt. The auxiliaries remained huddled in a defensive formation as a group of centurions moved to greet their emperor. They bowed as the one at the head spoke. “Emperor. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tiberius waved for the men to raise their heads. “Secundus. I merely wish to see what progress you’ve made with the recruits.”

The centurion, ever serious, nodded sharply, his expression stoic. “Yes, my liege. It would be my honor.”

Without another word, the man turned toward the auxiliaries.

Tiberius watched on in silence. The most recent reports had given him a rough idea of what to expect. Still, being here in person, he couldn’t help but find himself a bit surprised at the progress the former country bumpkins had made.

“You have done well,” he praised Secundus with a nod. “Tell me. Do you feel that they are ready for battle?”

The centurion paused. “It depends, my liege. As reinforcements on the back lines? Certainly. To go side by side with my brothers?” He snorted. “They have done well against monsters, I will admit. But I wouldn’t yet trust them to have my back.”

Tiberius chuckled slightly. “I suppose it is good to have high standards. But in our current times, I suspect that we will require their presence on the battlefield sooner rather than later.”

“If that is what you command, my liege.”

He nodded. It would be years before the natives were a proper force. Still, they could hardly wait that long. Some concessions would need to be made. Though if they truly proved themselves, then perhaps becoming a full legion sooner would not be entirely off the table. It would all depend on how they fared in true combat.

Secundus cleared his throat. “If I may, my liege… Despite my words, there are a few men that have proven themselves to be standouts.”

Tiberius raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“Yes, my liege. They have even begun training in the arena to further their personal abilities.”

“I see.” He’d heard the arena was being used for such purposes. But for these auxiliaries to earn the right to use it… “Are these standouts available to show their abilities? After you show me your other recruits, of course.”

“Yes, my liege!”

The centurions dispersed, some returning to the recruits while Secundus and most of the others moved to show their emperor around. It was a familiar dog and pony show, one that needlessly got in the way of the actual work being done. Still, it was the only way Tiberius got to lay eyes on things nowadays.

After a few hours, Secundus personally led him to the arena to continue their tour and see those standout prospects he’d mentioned. It seemed that Tiberius would get to visit the ancient structure sooner than expected.

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