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B2 Chapter 70: The Emperor’s New Clothes
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 03:29:38 +0000 UTCB2 Chapter 70: The Emperor’s New Clothes
The Legion had been busy in Hausten. That much was abundantly clear as Quintus and his men spotted the city from afar. Its walls had grown to twice the height that they had been before and bore an assortment of features that would make them quite unpleasant to breach. Tiny pinpricks of gold and red meandered across their tops as men patrolled back and forth.
Their work wasn’t done yet, however. In the distance, Quintus spotted groups of Legionnaires laboring over the packed dirt roads and transforming them into proper paved ones. It appeared to be some sort of punishment detail, based on the heavy containers of crushed rocks being hauled about and poured.
He looked at the already-completed roads they left behind. There had to be miles worth of the things already—quite impressive for a mere couple of weeks. Normally, roads took years and thousands of lives to build properly, though the investment was worthwhile for how long they endured. Quintus remembered marching on roads that must have been five hundred years old and still felt as though they were freshly constructed. But here? He expected they would be much faster to build and potentially even last longer—though that also depended on the amount of wear they would receive. But if it were just standard traffic, he wouldn’t be surprised if these very roads would still persist a thousand years from now. It was strange to think about.
The soles of the marching army’s caligae rattled thunderously against the stones as they approached Hausten. If the men on the wall hadn’t already seen them, then the noise would have warned anyone within a dozen miles of the army’s arrival. That, or of a coming thunderstorm. But that didn’t matter. There was no need to sneak up on their own city.
A contingent of other centurions hastened toward Quintus and met him as they marched. They saluted. “Primus Pilus. Welcome back. Legatus Tiberius is waiting to see you at your earliest convenience."
Quintus nodded. He understood that that meant as soon as possible, provided he didn’t risk danger to himself. “Understood. I will go to him now. I assume he’s at the center of the city?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve prepared you an escort.” A group of centurions stepped forward. “The rest of us will take care of your men and guide them toward the mustering grounds to join with their brethren. With your permission, Primus.”
He nodded in assent. With that, Quintus broke off from the column and began heading toward the city. The gate watchmen saluted their fellow Legionnaires as they entered. As they walked, he took a moment to appreciate the architecture and new constructions that surrounded them. Between the soaring arches, sturdy domes, and fluted columns, the city had quite rapidly transformed into a settlement that wouldn’t look entirely out of place back in their home country. Water bubbled through an extensive network of aqueducts that stretched into the heart of the city, likely filled by wells of some sort.
The developments weren’t just a matter of pride or of bringing civilization to these lands, however. Quintus was well aware that they also served to help the men level their skills. When they weren’t fighting or improving defenses, building better infrastructure was the next best way to grow themselves and their abilities. The benefits to the locals were just a bonus.
It took at least twenty minutes of walking to navigate through the busy streets and reach the Legion’s current headquarters. As Quintus stepped toward the door, he turned to address the Legionnaires that had accompanied him. “I will go meet the Legatus. If you have any business that you need to tend to, I suggest that you handle it now. But be prepared to move out by the end of the day. I suspect things will move quickly from here on out. Dismissed.”
The men snapped smart salutes before hurrying away with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than they should have shown. The centurion just smiled. He hoped a few of them might find a good drink and some quality entertainment.
It wasn’t long before Quintus found himself being ushered into Tiberius’s office. When he stepped inside, he found the man already standing behind his desk, looking out the window with a glass of liquor in his hand.
Quintus closed the door behind himself and saluted. “Legatus.”
Tiberius slowly turned. The older man’s stony gaze regarded him for a moment, the sunlight glinting off of a circlet of golden leaves that now encircled his head.
The centurion cracked a smile. “It seems that you’ve fully embraced the title of emperor. It suits you.”
A grunt escaped Tiberius’s lips. “It was a gift. One that came with a variety of unexpected benefits.”
“Like what?”
The Legatus gestured out the window. “It allows me to locate each Legionnaire under my command with… unnerving accuracy. It is not a tenuous link like I had previously experienced. However it wears on the mind to process the information of so many locations at once. The gods did not make us to see like they do.”
Quintus blinked. “That… is certainly quite a gift.”
“It is. The ability is taxing to use, especially over long distances. But useful. I suspect it will only prove more so as time goes on.”
Quintus shook his head. “Well, it certainly is an improvement to your wardrobe. You’ve always erred on the side of austerity.”
“You sound like a woman.” Tiberius grumbled before gesturing for him to sit. “It is a practical piece of equipment, nothing more. I treat it the same as I would a breastplate or gauntlet.”
It certainly didn’t look as practical as the protection a helmet would offer, but Quintus held his tongue. Instead, he moved on to more important matters. “If you truly will be taking on the mantle of emperor… then who will lead the Legion? Will you continue to serve as both Legatus and ruler?”
Tiberius took a long sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the table. Reaching over, he retrieved a bottle of dark liquid along with a second glass that he began to fill. Only after pushing it toward Quintus did he answer.
“Officially, I will retain my position as Legatus. For now. Not only is that what the System continues to recognize me as, but it will also ensure that we are not shaking up the command structure just as this war reaches its peak. Afterwards, however… I will formally pass on command.”
“To Gaius?” Quintus guessed.
Tiberius smiled thinly. “You believe he is too young.”
Quintus considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I trust your judgement. Even if he is young, the boy will grow into his position well enough. He’ll have to.”
Tiberius nodded. “We will all need to, if we are to grow our burgeoning empire. If we cannot, then it is only a matter of time until we are whittled down and scattered like handfuls of grain. But refrain from telling him. I have a few more tests that he must pass before I will allow him to lead the Legion.”
The centurion bowed his head in deference. “Of course, emperor.”
Ever since he’d stepped in the room, Quintus had noticed a difference in the old man. It wasn’t just his laurel crown, either. It was his demeanor.
Before, Tiberius had been a military leader. One who had declared himself emperor out of necessity more than anything, as a way to give himself and his men purpose in the uncertain circumstances they found themselves in. But now? He had truly taken that mantle and accepted it as his own. He carried himself with a regality and confidence beyond that of a soldier.
Perhaps the System would agree. After all, though [Legatus] was a powerful class, he couldn’t imagine that [Emperor] would be less.
The emperor gestured for Quintus to raise his head and refilled their glasses. “Now. Report, Primus. We have much catching up to do.”
And so Quintus spoke. He gave the man an update on Habersville, the state of the men he’d brought, as well as the training of their auxiliaries. The latter was of particular interest. The dedicated [Auxiliary] class had been unlocked by a number of other men, though it continued to be influenced by their previous classes as well. Their stat points were similarly influenced, with each level earning the men gaining whatever points they would have gotten from their old class and more. The consensus seemed to be five points earned in total—which, for men whose common and uncommon classes earned them one or two, was practically unthinkable.
Tiberius tapped his jaw. “One point less than a Legionnaire. That’s unfortunate, but still better than before. Regardless. The sooner we integrate them into the Legion, the better, in that respect.”
Quintus frowned. “Respectfully, sir, I disagree. These men need the training more than they need a single extra stat point. If we rush the process…”
A next sigh escaped the Legatus. “I understand. I would prefer to give them more time and ensure they are properly trained as well. Better to keep the ideal of a Legionnaire intact. But we may find ourselves with little choice. Our losses have been fairly minimal as of yet, but you know the standard attrition rate on campaign.”
He nodded. Campaigns could sometimes go on for multiple years, incurring losses through battle, disease, and starvation, among other things. If the losses became too severe, a Legion might dissolve entirely. There was one rare case where he could recall a Legion persisting with only half of its men, but most would fall apart before that point.
Still, Quintus wasn’t sure. None of their battles so far had proven too deadly, though perhaps there was some amount of luck factoring in. Additionally, he had noticed that the prevalence of disease among the men had plummeted quite considerably. Between that, the ability to heal wounds that would have otherwise been debilitating, and a strange phenomenon where they seemed to require less food than before, battle truly was becoming the biggest contributor to their losses.
It made him hope that replenishing their numbers wasn’t something that required an immediate answer. But perhaps he was being too optimistic. Not to mention that he truly did not believe these men were ready yet. While most had gained experience fighting monsters now, fighting men was a different story entirely. He was acutely aware of that. And besides…
“...To become a Legionnaire, one must be a citizen.” Quintus pointed out.
“Indeed. That is another matter we need to consider.” Tiberius sipped his drink again. “As much as I would like to make each man serve his twenty-five years as an auxiliary, we certainly do not have the time. Even two years may be too long. In the future, perhaps we can re-institute that requirement, but not right now. Yet there must be some requirement to earn those rights.”
Quintus grimaced, but nodded. Two years without any reinforcements to replenish the Legion? Even his optimism wasn’t so strong as to make him believe it would work. “What do you have in mind?”
The emperor sighed and set his glass on the wooden desk with a soft clink. “We must institute another way for their loyalty and worth to be proven. I have some ideas on that front. Evidently, there does exist a class that is able to create binding contracts and the like. Perhaps our men can learn to do the same, though I hesitate to entrust such matters to the System.”
“I do believe that there should still be a requirement of time served.” The centurion put forth. “The last thing we want is for a green recruit to become shell-shocked after their first battle. A failure like that will put his brothers in unacceptable danger.”
Tiberius grunted in agreement. “True. Until we have a pool of citizens to draw from, however, such requirements will need to be low. Perhaps three months as an auxiliary with participation in one major battle.”
The suggestion made Quintus stiffen. It was low—almost insultingly so. It threatened to devalue the very premise of citizenship itself.
Tiberius seemed to read his thoughts. He met Quintus’s eyes unflinchingly. “I am not happy about it either. Truly, I would prefer to maintain as much of the old ways as possible. Yet doing so threatens to kill our new empire in its very cradle. Though we have a populace, an empire must have citizens. Ones with a vested interest in its existence. Otherwise, we shall soon find ourselves spread too thin as we struggle to maintain it ourselves.”
The two men fell silent after Tiberius had finished speaking. He had a point. Quite a good one, Quintus had to acknowledge. The new emperor was thinking beyond the battle effectiveness of the Legion and toward the future of these lands and their people. Yet that didn’t make him like it any more.
“I will bring the matter before the rest of the staff.” The emperor continued. “But I wanted to hear your thoughts first.”
“We could simply change the role of the auxiliary units in the field.” The centurion offered. “Alter their responsibilities to make them more similar to the tactics of a Legion. They will not be as strong, but they will still be of some use. And perhaps it will give them more time and experience before they will need to fill in the holes of the Legion.”
Tiberius shook his head. “My friend, you are not thinking large enough. I don’t want to just backfill Legionnaires. I want to stand up another Legion.”
Quintus’s eyebrows rose. “A second Legion?”
Tiberius chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound that was all too rare. For a moment, the man ceased to be the emperor. Sitting there and relaxing with a drink in hand, he was once again the old friend that Quintus had long known.
“The auxiliaries are not the only source of new soldiers at our disposal. It seems that our elvish friends were hiding more than just this crown amongst their trees.” Tiberius tapped his head for emphasis. “Come. Let us go to the mustering grounds and see. Perhaps these troops will inspire more confidence than the auxiliaries.”
The older man stood, donning the mantle of leadership once more. The Legatus—no, the emperor—began walking toward the door. Quintus followed right behind him.
Comments
Moses Lambert
“The last thing we want is for a green recruit to become shell-shocked after their first battle." - "Shellshock" was a term invented in WW1 - Romans wouldn't've used it.
Etez
Thx for the chapter :D
