B4 Chapter 13: Back to the Beginning
B4 Chapter 13: Back to the Beginning
“Ready… Halt!”
The head of the column came to a shuddering halt with Quintus’s order. The men quickly worked to begin making camp as the long tail behind them continued to move, each segment halting in turn and adding their own efforts to making camp. It was only an hour later when the last of the Third Legionnaires arrived, the camp fully formed and operational. The process that used to take the entirety of a day had been shaved down to far more manageable proportions thanks to the wonder of skills.
The entire Legion moved outside of its walls and formed up into ranks once they’d assembled. A few minutes later, the last of Quintus’s Legion stood arrayed before him, every cohort neatly arranged and standing at strict attention.
Habersville had grown significantly since Quintus had seen it last, the formerly tiny town now sprawling across both sides of the river so as not to press even deeper into the forest. Between its role in the new empire’s founding, its crafting industry, and the nearby colosseum, it had seen quite the boost in traffic and public interest. Though formerly considered an out of the way backwater, it now found itself perfectly located to manage the influx of trade from the elves as well—something that they used to their full advantage.
Quintus turned away from the burgeoning city and looked out among the men, seeing a patchwork of old and new faces arrayed beside each other. He had taken Tiberius up on his offer to exchange two cohorts of First Legionnaires for two cohorts of his trainees, taking in his original first cohort and the ninth for his own. The ninth contained the least experienced members of his old Legion, though at this point that wasn’t saying much. They were all veterans who had been through much, both in this world and the last, especially compared to the rest of the Third Legion.
As expected, Gaius had not been happy to lose such a large portion of his men. But Quintus made sure that they were replaced with a number of his own most promising Legionnaires. The loss hurt, of course. But it was nothing compared to Gaius’s own troubles. Still, it was Tiberius’s—the emperor’s—orders. Neither of them would refuse.
“You have completed your first true march as Legionnaires,” Quintus addressed the men. “It will not be your last. Nor will those in the future be nearly so easy.”
Their speed had not been what he’d hoped, in part because his men did not have [Warpath]. Instead, he’d ordered them to take a recently earned skill that bore further investigation—[Imperial Road]. Preliminary tests indicated that it made slight improvements to the roads their men traveled on with every step while also increasing travel speed. The improvements were small and relatively insignificant on their own. But as a group? Six thousand men’s passing left quite an impression. The road that had been built between here and the capital was noticeably finer than before. Its interlocking paving stones were so tightly fitted that Quintus did not think he could fit the edge of his blade between them. It was almost perfectly smooth, and when it rained, the water ran off entirely.
Though their trip had gone quite smoothly. Compared to a year ago, the bandit population within the empire had seen a stark decline. The swift responses of Legionnaires sent to apprehend them, the press-ganging of offenders into work crews or auxiliary service, and general presence of the Legion had ensured that. They couldn’t be everywhere at once, but they certainly did try. Even the boundaries of different noble factions no longer held enough sway to keep them from retribution.
After a bit of pomp and ceremony that befitted the Third Legion’s first official march, Quintus dismissed the men. Most returned to camp straightaway, while others were permitted to head into the small city in rotating shifts. Despite its growth, Habersville was still nowhere near large enough to accommodate an entire Legion itself, which was why the majority stayed outside for the moment. Besides, setting up camp was always good practice for the men. It kept them from growing complacent.
“Watch over the camp,” Quintus commanded Aeneas, his own Primus Pilus. “I have business in town.”
The man saluted smartly. Aeneas was an old friend, a veteran who had served alongside Quintus for almost as long as he’d been a Legionnaire and the former Pilus Posterior just under Quintus himself. He was one of the many first Legionnaires who now served as part of his own Legion. Yet despite their long history together, the many nights spent around a fire drinking looted liquor and swapping tales of battles long since won, Quintus couldn’t help but feel a new sense of distance between himself and the other man. As though the promotion to Legatus had drawn a line that Aeneas could not—or would not—cross.
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He tried to ignore the feeling. The stiff formality would fade with time. The bond of friendship and mutual respect he and Tiberius had developed was proof of that. Although now that the man was emperor, Quintus found himself uncertain whether he’d ever feel comfortable addressing him so casually again. Only time would tell.
Setting the thought aside, Quintus turned and began heading toward the city alongside a few officers and aides—albeit at a far more sedate pace than the comparatively excitable soldiers.
Stepping through the tall wooden gates revealed even more changes to the town than just its footprint. The streets bustled with people, both the suntanned working folk he’d come to associate with the place and more colorfully dressed merchants who hawked wares at every corner. There was even a surprising number of pointy-eared figures rushing about, some manning market stalls of produce and fine wood ornaments while others tended to beautifully twisting trees that dotted the town’s interior.
Part of the Great Ruthin Forest’s request during annexation was that their territory was still able to keep some level of autonomy and separation from the world of the humans. As such, only full citizens of the empire were allowed to venture deeper into the forest and seek their lands. That meant that, while trade between humans and elves was flourishing, the elves still held quite a number of the cards and control. The elves themselves were still far outnumbered by the humans, but their offerings never failed to catch Quintus’s eye.
Already, Legionnaires clustered around the most enterprising merchants that had set up shop near the gates. Quintus shook his head and continued inward. His business lay deeper within, in an older district of the town.
Quintus headed across the river and into “old Habersville”. Despite the designation, the place hardly looked older than the rest of the town. Most of the old buildings had been rebuilt shortly after the Legion had come to this world and had only seen further renovations since then. Most, but not all.
Black smoke poured out from a chimney atop a squat two-story building. It was a simple affair, but well maintained, relatively humble amidst the comparatively grand constructions that now surrounded it. The steady thuds of hammer on metal echoed from within.
Quintus knocked on the door before entering. Despite his expectations, the man inside did somehow hear his knocking over the racket and was already standing from his work as Quintus entered. A broad, burly bear of a man turned toward him, face smeared with sweat and soot.
“Well. Long time no see.” Gareth the blacksmith stepped forward and clasped Quintus’s hand in a grip that would have had any warrior envious.
“Master Blacksmith. You’ve been well?”
“That I have.” He looked Quintus up and down with a frown. “Seems like that armor’s been treating you better than you have it. Repairs?”
Quintus gave the man a wry grin. “I won’t say no to that. It’s saved my life enough to have earned it. But it will have to wait.”
He fully intended to let the blacksmith work on his armor before heading out. However, he felt a bit vulnerable without his kit, even with trustworthy men around him to compensate.
Gareth nodded. “Fair enough. What do you need?”
“I’m told you and your apprentices have new equipment for inspection?”
Gareth nodded. “Yep. Got a few projects you might wanna see. The boys came up with some ideas for your shields and spears. Between Stonester and the ore from the west, we’ve got enough for a whole lot of upgrades. Dependin’ on how much you wanna invest.”
“Enough to outfit three Legions, should they prove worth it.” Quintus looked around the shop. “Where are they?”
“Not here. The boys took ‘em down to the colosseum to test.” At Quintus’s apparent surprise, the man shrugged. “Better than testing ‘em on training dummies. Not enough monsters ‘round here to fight anymore, either.”
“I see.” Quintus mused. He’d intended to head in that direction next, but it seemed as though he had another excuse to do so now. “Thank you.”
The pair talked for a while longer, mostly about the blacksmith’s own projects. Most of them weren’t directly related to the Legion and their needs, though there was one design for a greatly improved spring that might interest the engineers back home. Quintus asked the man for some samples to bring to them.
Gareth continued to be quite satisfied with the handful of Legionnaire apprentices who continued learning under him, the best of the hundred or so men who had initially undergone his tutelage. Though their interests diverged over time—Gareth still had no desire to make swords or implements of war—he could appreciate the work those men had put in and even learned a bit from them as well. They were still far from his own skills, though.
A while later, it became clear that Gareth was itching to return to his forge. Quintus said his goodbyes and left, intending to stop by again later. For now, he had some new equipment to evaluate—and an itch to scratch. That encounter with the dragon had reminded him of just how long he’d gone since having a good fight, and this would be a perfect opportunity to satisfy that desire.