B4 Chapter 14: Fighting Words
B4 Chapter 14: Fighting Words
The Colosseum was even grander than Quintus remembered. The entirety of the structure had long since been excavated from its earthen tomb and restored, but now it had become more. Colorful scenes depicting memorable fights and the feats of fine warriors decorated its exterior. Glowing stones harvested from Stonester’s mines studded both interior and exterior, enchanted to ensure the structure continued to shine no matter the time of day. And the stands? Despite the impressive amount of seating, the roar sounding from the place clearly indicated that it was packed.
Quintus passed between twin lines of warriors as he headed toward the entrance, each statue extending their weapon of choice outward to cross overhead. Most were swords and spears, but there were a few staves, bows, axes, and other stranger weapons among them as well. From what he’d heard, the place had become quite a popular spot for adventurers to test their mettle and train under more controlled conditions. The titles and rewards offered by the place certainly helped as well.
The halls were mostly empty, with nearly everyone present preoccupied with watching the bouts themselves. Nearly. A steady stream of what appeared to be employees of the Colosseum ran to and fro, their arms laden with scrolls and equipment and even a few pitchers of water. They clearly weren’t Legionnaire messengers—likely just locals or natives from around the empire who had been hired to work the massive complex.
Quintus stopped a man carrying a platter of food. “You. Where can I find the Colosseum administrator?”
“Hmm? Oh!” In an admittedly impressive move, the man shifted the large platter to one hand and pointed. “He’ll be over in that direction, sir. Turn the corner to section E, first room on the right.”
The Legatus nodded in thanks, and the man quickly scurried off, his cargo tottering dangerously with every step but somehow not spilling. Quintus watched with amusement for a moment before continuing forward.
The correct door wasn’t particularly difficult to find. A near-constant stream of people constantly flitted in and out, to the point that Quintus wondered why they even bothered to keep the door on its hinges at all. He had his guards wait outside and out of the way, then waited for a break in the traffic before sliding inside himself.
The office within was a complete mess, with stacks of papers, ledgers, and ink bottles scattered upon every surface. The walls were practically invisible behind the schedules and lists of rankings that had been pinned up there, some layered upon older ones thickly enough to protrude an entire inch from the wall. The sight rivalled even the former Grand Mage’s laboratories, albeit far more condensed. The confined space made everything feel far more claustrophobic.
A harried-looking Legionnaire shuffled through some papers as Quintus entered. “Is the current bout finished yet? If it is, I need someone down there to check the rewards on the adventurers’ side. The Legionnaires will report theirs, they always do, but those adventurers always ‘conveniently’ forget. Oh, and obviously record the results so we can redo the rankings.”
Quintus remained silent, prompting the man to finally look up. His eyes widened, paperwork forgotten as he straightened and saluted. “Primu—no, Legatus! Ah, apologies! I wasn’t aware you’d be visiting, sir!”
He waved the man off. “Relax. I’m not your Legatus. No need to stand on such ceremony.”
“Even so, sir, the position demands a level of respect. As does your time as my Primus Pilus.”
Quintus gave an internal sigh. It hadn’t been long since his formal promotion, and yet he was already getting tired of this overly respectful treatment. How did Tiberius deal with it?
Regardless, the administrator dropped his salute to fruitlessly adjust some papers. “Nevertheless. How can I assist you, sir?”
“I was told that the new equipment from the blacksmiths is being stored and tested here. I’m here to inspect it.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, of course! Right this way.”
The Legionnaire administrator swept toward the door and gestured for Quintus to follow. He set a brisk pace down the main thoroughfare, snapping orders at another handful of assistants as they passed by and sending them scurrying about like busy ants. They’d only made it a few steps when a roar of approval shook the structure.
“Ah. Finally.” The administrator sniffed. “I was getting worried we’d have to push back the next bout.”
Soon, the halls of the Colosseum flooded with people as they stretched their legs or sought refreshments between bouts. Modest folk from Habersville, exotically-clad toupes that had to be adventurers, even a few finely-dressed nobles mingled in the halls. There were no small number of familiar faces, either. It seemed that many of Quintus’s own men had beaten him here. Including plenty of his newly minted Legionnaires.
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“We can take ‘em.”
Quintus glanced over at one such group waiting in the wings for the next bout—not to watch, but to participate. The speaker was a man who was vaguely familiar, unfortunately. A loudmouth who’d seen his fair share of discipline by centurions, though without ever pushing things far enough to get him removed from the Legion outright. Beside him sat two of his comrades.
One frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure about that, Ham.”
“Whaddya mean you’re not sure? You saw that bout earlier. Those adventurers couldn’t so much as scratch the Legionnaires’ shields. What makes you think they’d do any better against us?”
“Because those are Legionnaires, Ham.”
“So are we.” The third retorted. “Remember?”
Quintus stopped to observe the men. He had a bad feeling about where their thoughts were taking them. And the efforts of the only one with any sense seemed wholly inadequate to prevent the others from running headfirst into trouble.
“But we just got the damn skill a couple days ago!”
“Feh.” Ham waved a hand dismissively. The loudmouth’s flushed face clearly indicated that he’d somehow already managed to become at least a little intoxicated. “Level 1 or level 20, it’s still the same skill. You know how strong it is. Especially against toothless strikes like those.”
“Exactly.” The third man’s eyes lit up. “They’re not so tough. I mean, with these stats? We can take a couple adventurers,just us!”
That was enough for him to hear. Stepping toward the trio, Quintus crossed his arms. “You three.”
His voice made them jump, tripping over themselves to salute—with the drunkard making a noticeably more sloppy job of it than the others. Quintus looked them over. “You will not enter into a bout against anyone. Especially not in that state. I forbid it.”
“Sir,” the only sensible man said. “Forgive us. It was idle talk, and—”
“Why not?”
Quintus’s gaze swung to Ham. His scowl was fierce enough to make the crowd part around him, giving both him and the subjects of his ire a wide birth. The man quailed, adding a belated “sir” in a higher pitch than he’d probably intended.
“The order of your Legatus needs no explanation for it to be followed.” Quintus growled. “But I will explain anyway. I will not have my Legion humiliated because of your incompetence.”
Ham reddened even further at his words. To his credit, the man didn’t drop his salute. “Forgive me, Legatus. But we’d just be bringing more glory to the Legion by destroying our enemies.”
“What enemies?” Quintus shot back. “Who are your opponents? How do you intend to fight them? What tactics and strategies will you employ?”
“The ones we were taught, of course.” Ham replied. “As for who we’re fighting… we’d find that out when we signed up, right?”
“If that is the extent of your planning, then you’ve already lost.” Quintus said bluntly. “You may be Legionnaires, but you lack the levels, stats, and battlefield experience to rely on any one of them reliably.”
These men were Legionnaires, true. But their training had been rushed. They weren’t nearly as tested as Quintus would have preferred, not by any stretch of the imagination. Worse, their expedited training hadn’t entirely managed to instill proper discipline into all of them—the fact they were even having this conversation was proof of that.
Ham pursed his lips. “With all due respect, sir, we’re not recruits any longer. We’re a full Legion, just like the First Legion. They’re stronger, sure, but we’re bound to catch up before long.
Quintus couldn’t help but sigh. The man was absolutely hopeless. Worse, he didn’t realize how out of his depth he was. Because by Quintus’s reckoning, a well-coordinated team of adventurers may well have these three dead to rights—even with the rest of their contubernium.
He’d known the men’s egos would swell with their new classes and everything that came along with them. Still… this level of overconfidence was liable to get them killed. Them and their brethren.
Quintus considered how to handle this situation. On one hand, he could have the man whipped for insubordination. That was the least of what he was owed for his back talk. Then again… he was already on track to kill two birds with one stone here. Why not add a third?
““I believe a demonstration is in order.” He turned to the administrator, who was hurrying back after Quintus’s abrupt stop. Before the man had a chance to catch his breath, Quintus spoke. “I would like to make an adjustment to the next round’s bout.”
“Of course, sir!” The man agreed without hesitation. A pen and paper appeared in his hand. “What would you like?”
Quintus glanced at the trio of men. “What century are you from?”
“Second century of the fourth cohort, sir!” Ham replied proudly.
“I see.” He turned to one of the veteran Legionnaires at his side. “Fetch his century. Have them gather here without delay.”
The man saluted and ran off. Quintus ignored the confused looks of the trio and instead turned to the administrator. “The adventurers will not compete. Pay them what they would have won as compensation, from the Third Legion’s funds.” Quintus glanced at the trio. “Instead, my guards and I will serve as opponents.”
The three men paled. Even Ham’s flush immediately disappeared as the weight of the words set in. “Sir…?”
“Against these three?” The administrator cut in, scribbling madly.
“No. Against their entire century.”
Silence followed his declaration. Even the administrator paused his writing to stare. “Are you certain, Legatus Quintus? Far be it from me to question your judgement, but would not such a bout affect the men’s morale…?”
He nodded. “It will. I am counting on it. But an instructional demonstration such as this is far better than an embarrassing loss to outsiders.”
The trio shrank back at his glare, but the Legionnaire administrator shifted uncomfortably. “That is… not what I meant.”
Quintus thought for a second, reading the administrator’s downcast eyes, before realizing what the man was getting at. He was nervous that the men would see their Legatus fall. He worried about Quintus losing in front of his men.
He couldn’t help but chuckle.