Marcus casually strode through the town, humming a soft tune. He kept his pace slightly slower than normal, engrossed as he was in his own thoughts. Still, to any outside observer, he would appear just as affable and approachable as his usual persona demanded.

As he walked, he scanned the populace of Habersville with an attentive eye. Villagers bustled about their work or aided with construction efforts right alongside the Legionnaires. He even heard an occasional greeting called out to the passing patrols. Compared to even a few days before, the level of respect and deference that the Legionnaires enjoyed had once again risen. They seemed to be held in higher favor than even the town’s previous guardsmen.

The reason why was clear. After a bit of asking around, Marcus quickly realized that he’d underestimated how much of a threat the shade slingers had posed to the town. Evidently, the threat of the shadow panthers had been dire enough that they had been petitioning the mayor to call in adventurers—for months. No one had even known about the spiders nesting deeper within. If they had… well, evacuating the town wouldn’t have been out of the question.

And now, within a mere week of arriving, the Legion had already dealt with both problems. Without any harm coming to the locals, no less. That alone had gained the summoned soldiers more goodwill than any other constructions or improvements they’d accomplished so far.

And yet, after all that, the soldiers were still level one. Even Quintus, who Marcus knew for a fact had visited the class stone by now. Something was very clearly wrong here, to the point of ridiculousness, and he suspected that Tiberius knew exactly what it was. The next time they met, he’d utilize every trick in the book until the man yielded some answers.

He continued humming as he meandered toward the town’s front gate. He passed by Margaret’s house and tipped his hat to the old washerwoman as she merrily joined in. Smiling, he opened his mouth and began to sing one of the verses.

“On the mountain, high and broken,

Stood a wizard, robes of blue,

Casting runes and speaking omens,

While the storm above him grew…”

It was one of the first songs he’d ever learned, from a rather gravelly-voiced man performing at a harvest festival, and one that made him want to be a bard. It was still one of his favorites to this day. He often sang it to close the night out in taverns, its melody a lullaby to the sleepy patrons who were just a little bit too deep in their cups.

As he went, he saw no small number of heads turn as they stopped their work and listened for a moment or two. A few of the village children even began to play and run alongside him for brief stretches. Marcus couldn’t help but smile, basking in the attention. He briefly considered pulling out his lute from where it was slung over his shoulder, just to add some accompaniment. But that could become a bit disruptive. He had no desire to completely arrest the town’s productivity, and the Legionnaires usually weren’t fond of people clogging up their streets.

“Oh my darling, oh my darling,

Oh, my daring valiant knight…”

Marcus stepped through the open front gate and turned back to wave at the guards. They were a pair he recognized, though their names weren’t known to him. Learning the names of six thousand individual men took time, after all.

“There you are.”

Marcus’s song abruptly cut off as a familiar voice sent ice down his spine. He spun to face its source—a previously unseen figure pushing off from the outer wall and stalking toward him.

The woman before him was no simple peasant girl like those he’d grown so accustomed to seeing amidst Habersville’s populace. Rather, she was an immaculate lily, bursting forth proudly from among the grasses. While her beauty would have been only passable among the women of Novara’s capital, even that much set her head and shoulders among the rest in a backwater like Habersville. Which was exactly why he could recall her face.

“You’re a hard man to find, Marcus.” The mayor’s daughter said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Those honeyed brown pools, which sparkled with starlight and intelligence in his memory, now held a clear edge of wrath.

Marcus quickly rifled through his memory for her name, backing up as he did.

“Ah! Myra!” He affected an open, amicable tone as his brain tried to catch up with the current situation. The wall made contact with his back, cutting off his best avenue of retreat. Reflexively, a dazzling smile slipped onto his face like a well-worn mask. One hand reached out to tuck a lock of lustrous brown hair behind her ear. “How have you—”

Before he could finish, the woman reached up and smacked his hand away. She leaned in closer and jabbed him in the chest with a single finger, effectively pinning him against the wall. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

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If Marcus hadn’t been aware of his situation before, he certainly was now. It was one that he’d seen so many good bards fall victim to over the years—the consequence of overstaying one’s welcome in a single place. Usually, he was quite adept at avoiding such situations, with a few notable exceptions. But with how interesting the Legion had proven, moving on simply hadn’t been a compelling prospect, loose ends or not. Still, he hadn’t quite expected this level of bitterness out of the woman.

Marcus let his smile dim slightly, from radiant and charming to more agreeable and concerned. “Well, I simply didn’t know you were looking for me. Is something the matter? How can I help?”

The earnestness in his tone combined with [Charm] and [Silver Tongue] to make the pressure on his chest lessen ever so slightly. He decided to press the advantage while he could. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to visit, but, well, things have been quite lively around here.” He gestured toward the Legionnaires manning the walls. “They’ve kept me quite busy around the clock, and I’m sure all of this tumult has made quite the splash in your day-to-day life as well. Social calls are simply a luxury I cannot afford at the moment.”

The guards had made no moves to approach or assist Marcus, which only made sense. Myra had done a fairly good job of ensuring that her actions didn’t come off as too aggressive, much to his chagrin. To any observer, this would just appear as a disagreement—and not one likely to come to blows. Yet.

Myra’s jaw clenched. “I suppose…” After a moment, she removed her hand from his chest and crossed her arms. However, she remained where she stood, barring his escape. “I suppose that is a reasonable explanation. However. Busy or not, we still have things to talk about, Marcus.”

The way she stressed his name sent shivers down his spine. Hiding his unease, he nodded agreeably. “Yes, of course! We certainly do.”

Frantically, he ran through what he could remember of their conversations. He was fairly certain he hadn’t actually promised her anything, but, well… sometimes women read into a man’s words far more deeply than he ever intended.

“However…” Marcus continued, edging along the wall slightly. “As much as I would love to stay and talk, I have prior engagements at the Legion’s camp that I must see to. The Legatus will be expecting me, and he’s certainly not a man to be kept waiting.”

Technically, his meeting wasn’t actually with Tiberius. Not this one, at least. But appealing to the highest authority possible would give him a better chance of escaping this conversation.

He stepped to the side, moving past Myra to return to the road. To his surprise, she made no move to block him. Instead she simply fell into step next to him as they walked. “That’s alright. I’m not busy. We can talk on the way.”

Marcus suppressed a curse. Once they arrived at the camp, he doubted that Myra would be let inside, but that still left him with a few minutes in which he’d be subject to her interrogation. He did his best not to look like he was hurrying while simultaneously walking as fast as possible.

“About the Legion…” Myra began, wasting no time. “That is an interesting matter. I had a few questions I wanted to ask about them.”

Marcus kept his eyes planted firmly ahead, not willing to help her one bit.

“You see,” she continued, looking at the camp that seemed all too distant, “They have quite an interesting architectural style. All of this new construction is making that quite clear. I went and visited the beginning of what they claim is an aqueduct, and I can’t help but think it looks… awfully familiar. In fact, it looks quite similar to those ruins we explored together. You remember that, don’t you?”

Marcus flicked his eyes over to glance at her face. Despite his skills’ attempts to neutralize her anger, Myra’s delicate features remained accusatory—if less angry than he’d initially feared. Most of her wrath had been replaced with curiosity and suspicion at this point.

Hopefully, it would stay that way.

“I hadn’t noticed the similarities,” Marcus said honestly. Perhaps he should have, but there had been so many other things vying for his attention. Besides, he’d had better things to focus on during their little excursion.

“Well, I certainly have. Although I’ve yet to return to the ruins and confirm.” Myra hummed thoughtfully. “It’s strange, isn’t it? A mysterious group appearing out of nowhere, just a single day after we explored those ruins. A group whose structures bear an uncanny resemblance to ones made thousands of years earlier. That is quite the coincidence, isn’t it Marcus?”

“Perhaps,” Marcus allowed, drawing out the word. “Stranger things have been known to happen.”

He could tell that the woman was building to something, and quite frankly, Marcus wanted no part of it. Thankfully, the gate to the camp loomed only a short distance away. Cassius and Sextus stood among the Legionnaires guarding it, their shift having taken them to this post for the day.

Before they quite reached the camp, however, Myra quickly stepped in front of him. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Marcus. Especially not like this. I seem to recall telling you not to touch anything in those ruins, especially if it could be of historical importance. You didn’t happen to find anything like that did you? A relic, perhaps, or some sort of rune circle that you simply forgot to tell me about?”

“Of course not!” Marcus lied through his teeth.

“Mmm-hmm.” Myra gave him a dubious look and crossed her arms. He did his best not to look down from her face to the ample cleavage she was showing off. He was pretty sure she did that on purpose. “You’re certain? Because—”

“Marcus?”

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods as Cassius’s voice rang out. Leaning over to see past Myra, he saw the Legionnaire raise a hand in greeting as he called out again. “You’re running late! They were just about to send a runner looking for you!”

Marcus leapt at the opening, quickly stepping past Myra as she looked back at the guard. “Ah, apologies for my tardiness! Myra, as much as I regret cutting our conversation short, duty calls. I’ll talk to you some other time!”

By the time he finished speaking, he was already level with the pair of Legionnaires. He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “Thank you, friend.”

Cassius shot him a wink as he fell into step with Marcus as his escort. “You owe me one for this. Perhaps a round of drinks and another story or two.”

Even as Marcus disappeared into the bustling camp, he felt Myra’s dark eyes drilling holes into the back of his head.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep