Chapter 14: Just Wartime Things

The camp was quiet—or at least, as quiet as any camp could be. Men continued to go about their duties as the sun descended toward the horizon, passing between the tents and calling out occasionally to their comrades. Still, compared to the chaos of an active battlefield or the bustle of a thriving town, it was calm. Calm, organized, and peaceful. For the moment.

Tiberius sat stationed behind his desk, a large piece of wooden furniture one of the Legionnaires had liberated from the nearby town. At his elbow stood one of his aides, on hand in case he needed messages sent or any other minor tasks taken care of. The man stood at attention as Tiberius hunched over the documents spread across the desk with a writing implement in hand.

This, too, was one of the strange and foreign technologies of this land. It functioned similar to the reeds he was familiar with, except for one thing: it contained the ink used for writing within its core. The invention was ingenious, certainly, and one whose construction piqued his curiosity. That simple change made it a far superior tool to any he'd used for the purpose. Still, it took a while to become acquainted with. Even now, he found himself reflexively reaching for an inkwell that wasn't there.

His attention returned to the reports arrayed before him. There was a veritable mountain of information to process, a daunting reminder of the challenges they faced. Skill research among the men was proceeding steadily, though it still felt as though they were mostly learning what was already common knowledge among the local barbarians. Yet even that progress couldn't be underestimated. For now, simply testing the skills they had access to was proving valuable enough.

Tiberius scanned the list of skills that had been assigned to patrols venturing deeper into the forest. Many of them remained combat focused for the moment, given the unfamiliar and likely hostile surroundings. But those were not the only ones they'd need to investigate. Exploration would soon be an essential area of focus.

One of the first things they'd done was meticulously catalog all the supplies the Legion had—food, tools, equipment, and so on. They'd brought with them only what the men carried on their backs, since none of the pack animals or horses had been transported alongside them. It was more than it could have been. The men had been ready to march, after all, and even the pack animals' loads had primarily consisted of the officers' equipment. It was a fortunate situation that left them with enough to survive and continue most standard operations without issues.

However, the Legion vastly outnumbered the town's population. It would be foolhardy to rely on their modest resources once their own rations ran out. Hunting could and had been enough thus far to supplement their diets, although Roman soldiers weren't accustomed to relying so heavily on game. Still, although the forest teemed with beasts that could sustain them, Tiberius wanted to ensure that they identified new sources of food as well. More consistent and sustainable ones, preferably before the forest's bounty failed them.

That issue spoke to greater ones as well. If they were to thrive in this place, they would need far more than food—they needed mines, smithies, and a whole host of other resources. Their weapons and armor would need maintenance and, eventually, replacement. They'd need to rebuild their cavalry and archery units, since they had been left behind, which meant that mounts and bows would need to be found as well. The list went on and on.

These concerns weighed heavily on Tiberius as he pored over maps of the area, their faces covered with markings that denoted resources that may be found there. Some of the information came from his own scouts, while some stemmed from Marcus's descriptions and tales. Both had their own limitations, given how foreign and exotic this land could be. Still, one thing quickly became clear. While winter may not be an immediate concern, they couldn't rely on just this one town to meet their needs. The Legion would need to expand their territory outward, and sooner rather than later.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his tent flap opening. A Legionnaire stepped inside, thumping his fist to his chest in salute. At Tiberius's acknowledgement, the man spoke. "Legatus. The silver-tongued one is here."

Tiberius straightened from his work, gesturing for the man to let Marcus in. The bard entered with a flourish, a wide grin stretching across his face as he bowed dramatically. Rather than appear perturbed or insulted by the title, the man seemed rather pleased.

"Legatus," the bard greeted, his tone warm and overly familiar.

"You're early," Tiberius responded simply.

"An entertainer never leaves his audience wanting—at least, not without a sufficient reason."

Marcus winked as Tiberius frowned slightly, glancing at the unfinished paperwork on his desk. He'd hoped for more time to focus before this meeting. However, it couldn't be helped. Interruptions were inevitable. Besides, he did have some matters that he'd intended to question the bard about anyway.

Marcus settled himself into one of the camp chairs across from Tiberius' desk, his grin never faltering. It would have looked convincingly genuine if Tiberius were just meeting the man. Not that he doubted Marcus was pleased to see him or even amicable. It was just that his facade was remarkably consistent and ever-present.

Folding his hands, Tiberius met the bard's gaze. "Very well. I will start off with the most pertinent matters…"

The two men quickly fell into conversation, though not an entirely smooth one. By now, they had developed something of a silent understanding—Marcus knew what level of manners and respect Tiberius expected, while Tiberius had grown to tolerate Marcus's prose and flamboyant posturing so long as it remained within certain boundaries. It was a useful arrangement that seemed to satisfy both men. As a result, over the course of several of these meetings, a kind of grudging and reluctant respect had begun to grow between them.

Tiberius was, first and foremost, a soldier—a general, a commander, a leader of men. But he was also a Roman senator, which meant he was no stranger to politics—distasteful as they were. Regardless, he had learned to navigate the murky waters of political life through practice and sheer necessity. He'd had to, after his father's death had thrust him into the Senate decades ago.

Given that experience, it was easy to recognize Marcus's skill in the same arena. The bard possessed many of the traits of an experienced spymaster—keen observational skills, a knack for gathering information, and a memory that even Minerva would envy. He was also as articulate as one might expect, which made him a surprisingly useful resource. Tiberius might have even liked him if he weren't such a flamboyant attention-seeker.

The Legatus began by asking a few lingering questions about the mysterious System that had quickly become an ever-present facet of their lives. From there, it shifted to more general topics such as geography, history, and—most relevantly—the political factions of Novara. Given that Tiberius had declared war on the kingdom, understanding his soon-to-be enemy was high up on his list of priorities. The aide took notes as they spoke, jotting down important information on a clay tablet.

Marcus claimed much of his information was out of date by perhaps six months or so. Still, he assured Tiberius that politics rarely moved quickly enough to render his knowledge completely irrelevant. Even if it was, the detail and breadth of his answers remained impressive. Enough that it made Tiberius wonder once again at his origins.

Marcus had proclaimed himself to be a [Royal Bard] at their first meeting, implying that there was more to him than met the eye. The out-of-place finery of his clothing and courtly manners only reinforced that suspicion. Still, when pressed for answers about his own personal history, the slippery bard never failed to deflect or change the subject with practiced ease.

Still, despite his shady origins, Tiberius found they weren't enough to justify dispensing with the bard. The information he provided was useful, and as such he found himself glad for Marcus's presence—annoying as it often was.

Once Tiberius had finished off his list of most pressing questions, he nodded in approval. "Good. I have more questions, but this should suffice for today." The fading light of the sun was just visible past the flaps of his tent. "Are there any matters you wish to discuss?"

"Actually… on this particular day, there are indeed." Marcus leaned forward, a more serious glint in his eye even as his tone remained casual. "I've been speaking with the townsfolk, as I'm known to do, and I couldn't help but bent an ear to the whispers of malcontent that have begun to simmer beneath the surface."

Tiberius frowned. "Do you speak of rebellion by the townsfolk?"

"No, certainly not! Nothing so open and brash," Marcus waved the suggestion away airily. "In fact, the majority of the people appear to be quite pleased with the current state of affairs. No, I speak of specific individuals. The venerated mayor of Habersville, for example."

Tiberius gestured for the bard to continue, which he did with pleasure. "You see, the former leader of this fine town is not particularly well-disposed toward your actions as of late. Indeed, he likely feels as though his formerly unquestioned staff of authority has been snatched from his very hands and broken into pieces before his eyes. And while I would not go so far as to say that he was popular enough to stir up an armed rebellion… well, I can certainly imagine a number of ways in which he could make life difficult for your and yours."

He paused, allowing Tiberius to digest the verbose explanation. "What kinds of ways?"

"Oh, every noble has a few such tricks up his sleeve. Even if the man remains a minor player in the grand scheme of things, he is not entirely unconnected to the grander political landscape. Not to mention that he may have some supporters in the more immediate vicinity that would be willing to work with him. Of course, this is all pure conjecture, but…"

Tiberius rubbed his forehead, exhaling in irritation. "Speak plainly, bard. What problems do you speak of?"

Marcus leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers as he did so. "Well, there is one in particular that you should know of. I had quite the interesting conversation with him a little earlier—about Habersville being seized, specifically. That notification you received about declaring war on Novara is evidently not a one-sided affair."

Tiberius blinked, frowning. He couldn't recall ever having told the bard about that directly. Had he simply forgotten? Or had the man pieced it together somehow?

He noticed Marcus studying his face closely, a small smirk playing across his lips at the Legatus's reaction. "Indeed, Novara's leadership would have likely received a similar notification. All this to say, there may—or may not—be a liberation force heading our way. One that our fine mayor may have every reason to cooperate with if given the opportunity."

Tiberius settled back into his chair and thought. The approach of enemy forces wasn't unexpected. Word of the Legion's arrival was bound to get out eventually, whether from outside observation, Habersville's silence, or the absence of the proper codes and phrases being used in official correspondence. The broken bridge had delayed outgoing messages so far, and the Legion had been careful to control all movement in and out of the town. But repairs were already underway. As soon as someone slipped out—or as soon as an outsider came in—word would spread.

Still, Tiberius had hoped to buy more time. Ideally, the first news of the Legion's arrival would come after they had already captured another settlement, one that could provide some of the resources they desperately needed. After all, trade for vital materials like iron was unlikely to happen anytime soon, given that the only easily accessible trade partners around were located within the very kingdom they had declared war on. Their conscription efforts to rebuild the auxiliary forces were already progressing, but the recruits still lacked sufficient training. It would take a few months to remedy that, and he was no longer sure whether they had even that much time.

Frowning, Tiberius made a note to increase patrols along the river. He suspected any attack would come from that direction, given that it faced the interior of Novara. Any impending skirmishes could serve as valuable training exercises for the new recruits. Even if it wasn't ideal.

"I see," Tiberius said slowly. Rather than fill him with dread, the news only served to reinforce his resolve. It seemed that their haste in securing a base of operations had been entirely warranted. "If you learn any additional information regarding this matter, bring it to me immediately."

Marcus dipped his head graciously. "Of course, of course. Oh, and speaking of retribution from faraway and hitherto unseen entities of great power… the destruction of Habersville's temples has also been on quite a few tongues today."

Tiberius grimaced, his jaw tightening. "Yes. Unfortunately." At Marcus's questioning look, he continued. "It is standard practice in Rome to let barbarians practice their own religions, so as long as they acknowledge our gods as well. However, these particular priests were not open to… reinterpretation… of their practices in any sense. An example had to be made."

Simply recalling the debacle threatened to give Tiberius a headache. Even with reassurances that the structures would be rebuilt, the priests had raised enough of a fuss to drag him away from his more important work to handle it. It had taken some rather direct threats to end the conflict, something that he had hoped not to resort to. It didn't help that the temples in question had been located in particularly problematic locations for the reconstruction efforts.

Marcus raised his hands in surrender, an amused glint in his eye. "Make no mistake, I am no priest. I merely repeat the words of others. It is far beyond me to question your decisions, honorable Legatus. However… I expect that some of those gods may take issue with your actions."

Tiberius waved a hand. "So long as the priests do not also foment rebellion."

"I doubt that. But regardless, the gods are not known to take kindly to slights. They are known to be fickle."

Tiberius frowned, drumming his fingers on the desk. The bard's tone remained as light as ever, but he weighted his words as though they held unspoken significance. Of course, he was no stranger to issue like this. Local populations often tried to cling to their mistaken, backward religions before acknowledging Rome's gods as superior. But then again… given how much magic and strangeness he'd already seen in this world, perhaps there was more to their worship, as well.

"What kind of action might we expect from these gods, Marcus?" Tiberius asked as directly as he could. Sometimes, it was the only way to get an answer out of the man.

Marcus smiled impishly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You might get smited."

"Mmm," Tiberius muttered, unimpressed. While that kind of threat might work on some of his men, Tiberius was not one to be so easily cowed. Not by gods whose direct intervention in the world was clearly limited to the realm of myths and legends. He made his occasional sacrifices to Mars or Jupiter like anyone else, but it was largely political theater. "I'll keep that in mind. But as I said, we have no issue with your worship of your own gods. The priests will be allowed to rebuild their altars and places of worship alongside the temples we plan to erect."

"Oh? And what gods do you and your men follow?" Marcus asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Most of the Legion gives offerings to Mars, the god of war," Tiberius replied. "But a bard like you? I'd wager you'd find more interest in Apollo. I'm certain one of the more faithful men will be happy to tell you all about them."

Marcus nodded, seeming to recognize that he wouldn't be getting more out of Tiberius on the topic. For a moment, the stoic Roman simply studied the man sitting across from him. His foppish hat, silken shirt, and gaudily tailored cloak clearly marked him as a successful entertainer or minor noble—or at least, someone posing as one. That seemed unlikely given the bard's undeniable skills, however. Still, one question continued to nag at him.

Tiberius leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Marcus. Why are you still here?"

The man feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean? You have yet to dismiss me, oh honorable Legatus."

He glared at the bard, barely suppressing a roll of his eyes. After a moment, Marcus shrugged. "Where else would I go? The bridge has not yet been repaired, and I dare not venture deeper into the Evergreen Seas alone. Even if I did seek such adventure, I would find myself woefully unprepared to knock on its door with my abilities."

Tiberius eyed him skeptically. "Surely that is not the only reason. There are other ways to cross a river. That should be no obstacle for someone of your... resourcefulness."

Marcus smiled slyly, but Tiberius continued to fix him with an intense stare. Eventually, the bard finally relented. "Perhaps there are other reasons as well. After all, I am a bard, as you are so fond of pointing out. And what bard would pass up the opportunity to pursue a great story in the making? The escapades of you and your men… Already it is abundantly clear to me that your exploits will form the foundation of many an epic tale. Why, it would be remiss of me to be anywhere else!"

Tiberius narrowed his eyes. "Surely it's not that simple. You'd turn traitor for a story? Against your own countrymen?"

"Am I really a traitor?" Marcus asked, his tone softening as he gestured grandly around himself. "The way I see it, these townspeople find themselves in better hands than they've ever been. Why, they have plenty of fresh food and water, their defenses would make even a duke envious, and their homes and businesses have been renovated at no charge to themselves. Why, they've even been able to go about their logging in more peace than ever! I've heard there hadn't been a single man injured by a panther since your arrival."

Tiberius suppressed a smile. All of these things were true, of course. Though most people were by their natures opposed to change, some were clear-eyed enough to see the light of Rome's promise and actively sought to be part of it. Marcus, despite his flamboyant nature, seemed to be one of them. Given his relatively educated nature, perhaps it wasn't surprising he'd recognize the superior ways of the Empire.

"You have not answered my question," Tiberius said, his voice firm. "You actively aid me and my men. You will be seen as a traitor in the eyes of any king or noble. Why do this?"

Marcus simply gave a rakish grin. "Well… let's just say that the king and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye."