B4 Chapter 33: Green No Longer
B4 Chapter 33: Green No Longer
The brief celebration was cut short as Quintus led his men back to the outpost. It was an organized retreat through the remnants of the scattered enemy, who proved far simpler to deal with in such numbers---and without covering each others' weaknesses.
They arrived to find the hastily constructed fortifications still standing, albeit not without their own scars. Deep gouges from tusks, claws, beaks, and stingers marred every inch of the stone walls. Corpses piled against the walls formed mounds and makeshift ramps that their fellows had readily climbed. There didn't seem to have been any collapses, or if there were, the Legionnaires had been able to repair them quickly enough. But it was clear the men here had seen more than their fair share of fighting as well.
Despite the damage, Quintus felt pride welling up from within as he looked over the walls. The damage was mostly cosmetic, after all, and seeing the speed with which this outpost had been raised? In the middle of an ambush, no less? He knew his men were capable, but this demonstration made it clear that he'd perhaps undersold their abilities.
The Legionnaires had long been used to forming a defensive position with their shields, but being able to create something more permanent like this... It would vastly improve their ability to do battle. With a bit more refining, they would be able to outlast any enemies who came at them or simply make their position even more unassailable, all with far less risk and cost to themselves.
The Legionnaires atop the walls shouted in greeting at their approach. A section of the wall sloughed away to allow them entry before sliding back into place once more. He ordered the rest of his strike group to go rest as he sought out his officers and Primus Pilus. He found them near the center of camp, coordinating men on watch and organizing the rest as they took a similarly well-deserved break.
Quintus stopped before them "Report."
The Legionnaires saluted sharply as his Primus, a veteran named Agrippa, spoke. "Legatus, sir. The enemy has broken. We remain vigilant against further attacks. We estimate that we lost around a hundred men, most of them in the initial ambush."
He closed his eyes briefly. That was less than he'd feared, but more than was acceptable. His carelessness had allowed them to be taken unawares, and his men had paid the price.
He sent a brief prayer to the gods that their souls find rest before his eyes opened once more. They betrayed no hint of his inner thoughts. His self-incriminations would wait until he had privacy. For now, he had more to do.
Quintus turned to regard the men all around him, both on the ground and atop the ramparts. They were exhausted, many still seeming a little off-balance from the combination of low stamina and practically empty mana. Even he felt a bit of that nausea return as the adrenaline of the battle faded. Yet they were also triumphant. Their eyes glittered with the rush of victory.
He raised his voice for everyone to hear.
"Legionnaires! This was your first true test, your first battle as the Third Legion. And you have done well. Even with every card stacked against us, we have driven our enemies away, sent them fleeing back into the blasted sands from which they came!"
A chorus of shouts met his proclamation---tired ones, but appreciative. Some of the men lifted cups in his direction that he chose to believe were filled with water.
"You have done well, not just by me, but by your brethren. By Rome." He turned to meet the eyes of each and every one of his new recruits. "Each and every one of you has now seen combat and come out the other side. From this point on, you are green recruits no longer. From this point on, you are brothers. Proud members of the Third Legion, one and all. Men who I am proud to lead into battle."
Another round of shouts. He saw the faces of the Novaran natives steel with determination and pride. Throughout all of their training, there had always been a clear divide between themselves and the more experienced veterans of the First Legion, and understandably so. But those kinds of boundaries had a way of disappearing after watching one another's backs in battle. Quintus simply wanted to reinforce that truth.
Of course, they still had much to learn. But he could confidently call each and every man here a Legionnaire now.
"Now rest," he finished, not wanting to ramble on too long. "That we may do it again!"
That earned him a laugh. The exhausted men saluted one final time before returning to their duties, either scanning the dunes beyond or taking the reprieve to relax. Already the smell of simple porridge and bread rose from lit cookfires, even those humble offerings making Quintus's stomach rumble.
The command to rest wasn't simply an idle one. They needed to recover whatever resources they could, and quickly. They didn't have the stamina or mana for another fight like this. If another invading force sought to catch them unawares, they would have little choice but to weather the attack and hope that they would recover more quickly than they spent their stamina. The fortification would certainly help with that, but it alone would not make victory certain.
In their condition, retreating back to the forest wasn't a viable option either. Even if they did have the stamina to move all of their men that distance, it would leave them far too open to another ambush. And this time, they wouldn't be able to create a fortress out of nothing. No, they needed to stay in place. At least for tonight. And in the meantime, Quintus had other matters to attend to.
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He finished speaking with his leadership about practical matters of organization before turning toward one of the towers. There was one more officer he needed to speak with. One that had been conspicuously absent during their meeting.
Quintus felt his legs complain as he strode up the stairs to the top of the tower. There, he saw who he'd been looking for Grand Mage Claude paced back and forth, scribbling rapidly in a shockingly thick book. Curls of smoke rose from the still-smoldering remnants of arcane squiggles below his feet.
"Ah! Legatus Quintus!" The old man finally noticed his approach as he stepped forward. "I was hoping to speak with you about requisitioning the Third Legion's mages for a few experiments. I've done quite a bit of testing with the First Legion's men regarding group casting, but obviously, none of them are anywhere near my own experience. I need to see whether me serving as a lynchpin can elevate their abilities, or whether I'll simply be made less potent. Conventional wisdom says we'll meet somewhere in the middle, but, well---"
"Legionnaire." Quintus cut the man's tirade short. "Do you think you are above your Legatus?"
Claude blinked. "Er... No? Not with regard to rank. Tiberius made that very clear. Why?"
"Then why in the name of the gods do you act like it?" Quintus gestured toward the remnants of the calamitous spell beneath them. "You went off on your own and, without so much as informing a single person, launched an attack that nearly rendered the entire Third Legion as useful as stumbling drunkards. You singlehandedly kneecapped the abilities of every caster in this Legion."
The mage tilted his head. "Went off on my own? I was just following the orders you've given me from the start."
Quintus felt his anger rise. His voice turned soft and dangerous. "And what orders are those?"
"To do as I will. Since I received no other orders during the battle, I assumed that was still the case."
He almost ripped into the man about the obvious differences between his day-to-day experiments and a life-or-death battle. But he stopped himself. It was true. He hadn't given the mage orders. In fact, he'd been more than content to forget that the man existed.
Claude straightened. To his surprise, the man snapped a sharp salute as he met Quintus's accusatory stare unflinchingly. "It seems as though there has been a misunderstanding. First of all, I apologize, sir, for not conveying my intentions. However, I would point out that I have been rather encouraged to 'go off on my own' up until this point. Whenever I have approached with a request to execute an experiment or pursue a line of research, you have instructed me to do as I will.
"As for my actions during the battle..." Claude frowned. "My understanding was that you required an opening, and so I worked to provide one of acceptable quality, one that would additionally render as much of the enemy army unable to continue as possible. Additionally, while I am responsible for teaching the mages of the Third Legion, I have thus far not been permitted oversight of them during battle. That lack of oversight led me to underestimate the amount of mana they had already used---hence my overestimation of the Legion's remaining mana pool. The fault lies with myself."
Quintus found himself staring at the mage. The unexpected display of seriousness caught him off guard. He'd expected a casual dismissal of his objections, not this.
Once again, he found himself adjusting his estimation of the old man. It wasn't often that he truly considered Claude's age, other than how it would negatively impact his abilities as a physical fighter. But it seemed that centuries of life had indeed imbued him with some amount of maturity, though seldom shown. He likely had more experience than Quintus ever would, albeit in different areas. And considering the lethality of that spell alone, he had seen his share of death as well. More than most of the formerly green recruits.
He heaved a long sigh, allowing the tension to drain out of his shoulders. "It seems that I have shirked my duties as a commander."
"What? Nah," Claude relaxed slightly, sensing Quintus's own change in mood. "It's my own fault, too. I should've checked in when the battle started. Like I said, I get wrapped up in my experiments sometimes. Though you were pretty wrapped up yourself, as was everyone else."
Quintus just shook his head. It was no excuse. If he had properly utilized Claude, they may have been able to end this battle before it truly began. His failure had directly led to the death of his men. His brothers.
"Then we will ensure that we make plans in advance." Quintus squared his shoulders. "Tomorrow, after we have rested, you and I are going to have a long conversation about your abilities and limitations. No interruptions."
The mage's eyes lit up. "Excellent! I'll make sure to have a list of suggested research avenues ready for that."
Quintus tried to hide his grimace. But it couldn't be helped. This was a conversation that needed to happen, and he wouldn't let some distasteful or boring parts stand in his way.
Claude seemed to read his expression and smiled. "If it would help, I have a nice bourbon stored away in one of my rings. Or a whiskey, if you'd prefer that."
The Legatus's eyebrows rose. "You do, do you?"
The old man scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe. Assuming I won't get in trouble for it."
Quintus chuckled and shook his head. He'd overlooked worse offenses, and he had no desire to slap down such a peace offering. "Bourbon will do nicely."
"Wonderful. Then... is there anything else?" Claude's fingers twitched. The man was clearly itching to return to his work, though too respectful to say it outright.
"That will be all, Legionnaire." Quintus nodded. "As you were."
He turned to descend the tower as the mage produced his book and pen once more. With that taken care of, his thoughts turned to other matters. Namely, where to go from here.
Retreating to the forest was an obvious move. Given the unexpectedly fierce opposition of the foe here and the state of their forces, returning there for a resupply and to communicate their findings was the least they should do. But what then? Should they simply linger, patrolling the border for other possible incursions? Or try to nip the problem in the bud?
He wasn't yet sure. But it was clear that this threat was more dire than he'd initially assumed. Whoever this foe was, they had clearly attempted a full-scale invasion into the elves' forest---into Roman territory. And that could not be overlooked.
He continued mulling over courses of action as he checked in with each cohort and century. Tiberius had said he didn't want to start additional wars across their border. But if the war was coming to them... Then perhaps they needed to take matters into their own hands.