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B2 Chapter 57: Duking it Out
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 03:22:14 +0000 UTCB2 Chapter 57: Duking it Out
Marcus’s steps echoed through the halls of the duke’s estate, bouncing off the paintings and suits of armor that lined its walls. The sound seemed all too loud in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Though he didn’t feel too bad about the noise. Not when Gaius’s armor made five times the racket.
Charles, the duke’s chamberlain, glanced back at them and sniffed. Marcus could sense his annoyance like a palpable aura, and not just at the noise. He likely took the Legionnaire’s insistence on wearing his usual armor as a slight against his lord’s honor. The man had given his word that they would not be harmed during these negotiations, after all.
But Marcus couldn’t honestly blame the man for being wary. They were essentially at the man’s mercy, and although they still held his daughter as collateral for the moment, who was to say he didn’t have some other trick up his sleeve? Never mind that the pair had been forbidden to bring weapons or additional guards.
“I still don’t understand why you want to do this,” Gaius muttered as they walked. “Why not simply take the gold, hand over the girl? We can approach the Duke later after he gets his daughter back and isn’t on edge. Or once he’s backed into a corner.”
“Patience, friend.” Marcus soothed his companion. “Trust me. Have I steered you wrong yet? Besides, I don’t want her poisoning the well, so to speak.”
Gaius sighed. “No. But there's always room for a first time. I hope you know what you’re doing, Marcus.”
He wasn’t the only one. Despite Marcus’s outward confidence, he had no real assurances that the duke’s disposition and situation really would be as he hoped. The man may well consider any attempt to sweet-talk him as an insult of the highest order.
Marcus glanced at the chamberlain walking ahead of them. The man obviously didn’t trust the pair, which was entirely reasonable given that they had ransomed his master’s family. But regardless, he still had duties to fulfill.
The man led them to an ornately carved wooden door. He knocked twice, waited, then pushed it open. “Milord. I’ve brought them.”
A hard voice emanated from within. “Enter.”
Marcus and Gaius obliged, stepping into a large study. Rows upon rows of books lined dark wood shelves that stretched toward the arched ceiling above. But rather than the thick tomes and rather practical decor of the room itself, his eyes were immediately drawn to the figure standing behind the large desk at the center.
The duke was a tall man with a far straighter back than his advanced age would suggest. The silver in his hair had progressed long past just a swath at the temples to conquer the majority of his head. However, it was clearly losing the fight against the growing bald spot spreading across its top. His face was clean-shaven, and his bushy eyebrows framed hard eyes that held every bit of intelligence and ambition Marcus would expect to see in a sharp twenty-year-old.
His clothing mirrored the study itself—well-tailored, tasteful, but practical and not overly gaudy. Behind the desk, Marcus could see that he wore a sword at his hip, its pommel worn and minimally decorated. The style suggested that this was not the blade of an arrogant nobleman, whose blade was a display piece meant more for show than drawing blood. It was instead a functional sword, likely an heirloom that had been passed down for generations.
Marcus imagined what the man must have been like in his prime. If he were about to write a hero for a ballad, he imagined the duke of forty years ago would have been quite a fine subject. Nowadays, he could still be worth writing about. Though perhaps he would play the role of a mentor, one who died at a timely moment to give the hero the motivation necessary to continue on.
All of this Marcus took in as they approached the desk. The sight gave him hope. This man was someone practical, honorable, and intelligent enough to see the truth of a matter objectively. In other words, he was someone Marcus could reason with.
The door clicked behind them as Charles bowed and left. The duke’s face was a mask of neutrality, one that Marcus was well familiar with. No noble got very far without one. At the same time, the man’s steady gaze seemed to assess every aspect of the pair before him, from their clothing down to the price of their armor and accessories.
“Gentlemen.” The Duke of Redcliffe began. “My understanding is that you insisted on speaking to me in person, despite my envoy having full weight to negotiate my daughter’s release. I certainly hope that you make it worth my time.”
Despite their hostages, the man’s initial address aimed to position him as completely in control of the situation. A smart move, and one that showed his confidence.
At his side, Gaius strode forward to claim one of the plush chairs sitting before the desk. He didn’t even acknowledge the duke’s words as he sat. The two stared at each other steadily. Despite the outward neutrality of their expressions, Marcus could feel the tension in the room ratchet up several levels as the young officer challenged the elder noble.
Marcus decided that it would be best to defuse things at least somewhat. He swept into a respectful bow. “Duke of Redcliffe. It is a pleasure to meet you. I believe that some introductions are in order. This is Gaius Pompeius Agrippa, the tribunus laticlavius of the Roman Legion and second only to the Emperor Tiberius Rufius Maro himself. He comes with full diplomatic authority.”
The Duke was silent for a moment before slowly lowering himself to sit in his own chair. He inclined his head slightly, never breaking eye contact with Gaius.
“Tribune Gaius. It is a pleasure.”
Gaius returned the nod. “Duke of Redcliffe. Likewise. Pleasure.”
Both men’s tones made it clear that it was not, in fact, a pleasure.
Marcus continued on, unfazed by the brewing enmity between the two men. “I am Marcus Silvanus D'Angelo, [Royal Bard] and assistant to the Romans. I act as a kind of cultural interpreter, one that aims to clear up misunderstandings between our parties. After all, they come from afar and their culture varies greatly from that of Novara in some ways.”
A flash of recognition crossed the duke’s expression, but he didn’t falter. After several moments of studying his counterpart, the man turned to Marcus. “Before we go any further, I must confirm something. You say that this man is second in command to an emperor. Why, then, is he only level four?”
Marcus almost blinked. He honestly had not expected such a direct question so early. He’d expected far more dancing about the topic, more probing and overtures before they actually began to speak of anything substantive. Evidently, the duke was serious about them not wasting his time.
He took a deep breath. If that were the case, then perhaps it would be best to follow suit. Even if that meant facing the man with truths that on their face seemed unbelievable.
“Because they are new to this world,” Marcus stated simply. “When I said that they came from afar, I meant it. The Romans are not native to this world. They arrived mere months ago. Yet despite this, they have made great strides in leveling during that short period. And their strength greatly outstrips their level… As the adventurers who were sent to destroy them learned quite acutely.”
The duke’s frown deepened at that. “Then they are summons? Tied to this world by a summoner?”
Marcus shook his head. “They are not. Though they were indeed summoned, they are permanent flesh and blood humans rather than ephemeral constructs or creatures that can be so easily banished. This is now their home.”
Gaius gave him a sidelong glance. Likely the man didn’t approve of the amount of information Marcus was sharing. But he felt it was important to provide an adequate background. It would also do wonders to build up trust between himself and the duke—trust that he’d soon need.
The duke narrowed his eyes. “And you saw fit to ally yourselves with these foreign invaders? Or would you call yourself their leader?”
At that, Gaius snorted, and Marcus shook his head. “I am no more a leader than a man strapped to the back of a bull can be called a rider. I am merely an observer, one that seeks to smooth negotiations on their behalf—for their sake and that of others. For you see, Roman culture and the Legion’s classes thrive off of conquest, expanding their territory, and occupying greater and greater swaths of land.”
“So you come to threaten me.” The duke said flatly.
“Far from it. I come to provide you with an alternative to fending off this threat. For they are a threat. If their accomplishments so far are not proof enough of that, then perhaps their alliance with the elves shall be more convincing.”
“An alliance with the elves?” The duke repeated slowly. “I know bards are meant to spin tales, but try to at least make them believable.”
Marcus spread his hands helplessly. “If you doubt my words, I’d be more than happy to introduce you to the elven envoy accompanying us. Or the contingent of elven fighters that accompanied him.”
The duke stared at him, evaluating his words. Marcus projected nothing but confidence and open honesty. While his skills were usually used for manipulation and the twisting of words, today they were being put to use in quite a different way. To try and explain to this noble exactly how fucked he’d be if he went against the Legion.
“...Why would the reclusive elves choose to ally themselves with this group of summoned foreigners?”
Marcus smiled. “I’m glad you asked.”
And so he began telling the tale he’d heard from the elves. About the history of the Roman Empire in this world. About how their empire had spanned the entirety of the continent, so long ago that only the most long-lived races remembered their names, about how they had ruled over all before eventually collapsing and being scrubbed from the annals of history, albeit not completely.
The duke listened intently, his neutral expression remaining firmly in place. But it was clear that he was listening. His words and their gravitas were being taken seriously. And no wonder. After all, Marcus was giving one of the best performances of his life.
At his side, he could feel Gaius remain still and unmoving. The officer was tense, clearly not understanding why Marcus had chosen to share information so freely with this man. But whenever their eyes met, the message that Marcus sent him was clear—“trust me”.
“...All of that is to say, the Romans have returned to our world once again,” Marcus concluded. “And it seems that they are dissatisfied with its state. Many times have I heard them bemoan our lack of proper infrastructure and progress.”
“...I see.” The duke said simply once he had finished. “Let’s say I believe your story. If what you say is true, then it seems I would have every reason to warn the king of this nascent threat and rally our forces against them.”
“You certainly could do that.” Marcus agreed easily. “Although you have far more confidence in your victory than I do. Honestly, after seeing what these men can do, I somewhat doubt that anything less than Novara’s full military or the top adventuring parties in the country would be able to take them on. And that’s assuming the king would be willing to pull troops out of the west… or even listen in the first place.”
The slightest hint of a grimace flickered across the duke’s face, and Marcus knew he’d hit the nail on the head. His estimations of both the kingdom’s state and the duke’s feelings about it had been right on the mark.
Marcus braced himself. This was it. It was time for the real pitch.
“If I may continue to be honest… Even without the Romans invading, Novara is already in dire straits. Between the war and the state of its leadership, the kingdom is treading on thin ice. And that was before I left the capital. Now?” Marcus shook his head. “I doubt that it will last another few years before things devolve into turmoil in some manner or another.”
“That certainly sounds like the rationalizations of a traitor.” The duke sneered, but his heart wasn’t entirely in it. Marcus could feel all too clearly how his words resonated with the man.
“Perhaps.” He gave the duke a lopsided grin. “But you don’t become an entertainer of renown without being observant. And as one who prides himself in his knowledge of stories, I am fairly certain that I’ve heard this one plenty of times before. Which is why I wanted to speak to you.”
Marcus gestured toward both himself and Gaius for an appropriate amount of dramatic effect. “War is coming to Novara, and sooner rather than later. What do you say to joining the winning side?”
Comments
Etez
Thx for the chapter :D shit's gonna start hitting the fan soon
Beeees!
The Duke is smart, he may protest and struggle. But I bet he will be the first of many to capitulate when they spot the eagle banner marching towards them
