B2 Chapter 67: Quittin' Time

Tiberius watched as his second in command set a heavy bag atop his desk. The pouch clinked satisfyingly as it came to rest, the sound leaving no question as to its contents. Gold. And plenty of it.

Marcus stepped forward and set a second bag next to the first as Gaius saluted. "There are thirteen more bags like this, Legatus. Each containing two thousand gold pieces."

A pleased expression found Tiberius's face. "Well done. Did you encounter any issues?"

The pair exchanged looks before Gaius answered. "No. The ransom went smoothly, sir. We did run into a small issue on the way, but not because of the duke. It all went better than expected to be truthful."

Tiberius nodded and turned to the bard. "And the duke?"

Marcus waggled his hand from side to side. "That matter has yet to be determined. By my estimation, the duke appeared fairly open to cooperation and did not harbor hostility, either open or concealed, from what I was able to discern. However, he did not give a definitive answer regarding his allegiances. One may take that as a positive sign, as it does leave the door open for his defection. Yet it appears that we will need to wait and see how things develop from here.

"In my opinion, though…" The bard paused. When Tiberius didn't stop him, he continued. "I doubt he will side with the kingdom against us. Not anytime soon, at least. Becoming an ally is another matter, but my estimation is that we will at worst be able to treat him as a neutral party in any upcoming conflicts—so long as we don't expand further into his territory, of course."

The Legatus nodded. It wasn't the best outcome, but it certainly was better than things could have gone. The fewer immediate enemies they made, the better. He would rather finish their current war before turning their attention to the subjugation of their neighbors.

However, there was a slight wrinkle. The barony of Wellshire was almost completely encircled by the Recliffe duchy. That meant that any further expansions would be severely limited in their directionality—and any travel to the capital city of Novara would take a rather indirect path.

"Is there a possibility that we can secure passage through his lands for our troops?"

Marcus mulled the question over for a second. "I believe that should be a possibility. Well, one way or another. I'm unsure when you plan to mobilize, but when the time comes I suspect he'll have already made up his mind. That means he'll either be amenable to negotiation or… not."

"Currently, he lacks the military might to stop us." Gaius added confidently. "That's what our scouts observed. If he could, then he would have already forced us out of the barony. But he does have enough strength to make taking the rest of the duchy incredibly difficult. His home city is closer to a real fortress than any we've seen, and it certainly puts a place like this to shame."

"Do you believe that it could stand up against a siege?"

Gaius smiled before remembering himself and turning serious again. "I didn't say that, sir. Merely an observation."

Tiberius snorted. "And the elves? How did they perform?"

"Well, sir." Gaius said. "The peaceful nature of the negotiations meant that there was little opportunity to see them in combat. However, their mounts were able to keep pace with our march and there were no issues between them and the Legion. Although that may have been in part because they largely kept to themselves."

"That's not unexpected," Marcus defended the elves. "Not when you consider their age. After all, how much would a grizzled veteran have in common with the youngest and greenest of men?"

Gaius shrugged, but Tiberius understood. Sometimes getting the veteran soldiers to accept new recruits was difficult, just as the bard said. But so long as those difficulties didn't manifest as open disrespect or an outright refusal to integrate, things would likely work themselves out.

"As for their loyalty…" Gaius continued. "They have passed the tests I put before them with flying colors. They made no attempt to take advantage of the openings or 'weaknesses' that I presented them with during our outing. Nor did I detect even the slightest mutterings of discontent or rebellion. If they are plotting against us, they are hiding it incredibly well… and passing up opportunities for a coup in the process."

A brief flash of surprise flickered across Marcus's features, quick enough that Tiberius might have thought he imagined it. That was only to be expected. He hadn't informed the bard about their plans to test the elves and their loyalty, after all. And while this result was by no means conclusive, it did serve to build a better foundation for their proposed annexation into the Roman Empire.

"Very well. I will speak to Iladrien soon."

Gaius saluted. "I thought you might want to, sir. He's waiting outside to make his own report."

"Good." Tiberius said simply. "You have done well, Gaius."

The young officer maintained his salute, but seemed to straighten slightly with pride. "Thank you, Legatus!"

Tiberius moved the bags of gold to the side and leaned his elbows on the table. "Now. I have another task for you. While you were away, we were approached by a mage. A fairly high-level one. He has offered to assist us with regards to improving our magical capabilities and understanding of the System, on the condition that we assist him with his research."

"His research, sir?"

"Indeed." Tiberius gave a wry smile. "He wishes to research the Legion and the unique classes we have been granted. Considering your expertise on that front, I will put you in charge of interfacing with the man. Answer his questions and utilize his knowledge for our own benefit."

"Sir!" Gaius agreed enthusiastically. Marcus raised an eyebrow questioningly, but remained silent until Tiberius motioned to him.

"This mage… what is their name?" Marcus asked. "To my knowledge, the only high-level mage in this area is Irina Spellforger, though she doesn't seem to be the type who'd be willing to talk with you."

Tiberius shook his head. "No. This man goes by the name of Grand Mage Claude."

Marcus frowned, seeming to search his memory. "Grand Mage Claude? I don't believe I've heard of him… what kind of magic does he specialize in?"

"Currently he seems to specialize in weathermancy. However, it sounds as though he's dabbled in many others though. He appeared quite old."

The bard frowned in thought for a moment longer before his eyes went wide. "No… Claudius the White? The Hermit of the North?

"You know of him?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nothing for certain. He's supposed to be a myth! It must be someone else. If a man like that truly exists, much less wants to assist you…"

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He looked as though he wanted to spring out of his seat and search for the old man right then. Seeing how Tiberius had essentially finished with the pair, he saw no reason to delay them.

"One more thing." Tiberius swept his gaze across the pair. "As you interact with the man, pay attention to his disposition and character. He has expressed an interest in joining the Legion. I have yet to decide whether I should let him."

He suppressed a chuckle at Marcus's involuntary eye twitch. Gaius, for his part, simply nodded. Before sending them off, Tiberius produced a bottle of bourbon and handed it to the officer. "Take this when you meet him. And send in Iladrien when you leave. Dismissed."

With a bow and a final salute, the two younger men headed for the door. By the time they reached it, Tiberius had already set the conversation aside to prepare for his next meeting.

***

"Iladrien." Gaius called to the waiting elf in the hall. "The emperor wishes to speak with you."

The elf gave a nod as he flowed to his feet. He slipped past the pair and through the closing door just before it managed to shut completely.

Marcus shook his head at the sight. First the elves and now this mage… It seemed that the Legion was amassing quite a collection of powerful people around them. Not that they really seemed to need it.

With their meeting finished, Marcus's mind was already turning to the next most important matter before him—a well-earned rest. As curious as he was about this mage, the fact remained that his entire lower body felt like one massive lump of soreness and pain. It had taken all of his effort to avoid wobbling in front of Tiberius. Even then, he'd needed to use a minor [Glamour] when bowing.

He was considering whether a bath or a tankard of beer would be his first priority when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gaius raised his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. "Apologies for interrupting your relaxation plans. But I'm going to set up a meeting with our new Grand Mage. Would you like to come along?"

Marcus silently cursed. He must be tired if even Gaius could read him so easily. "You're inviting me? I supposed that I would need to wheedle, bribe, and cajole my way into such a meeting."

The Legionnaire chuckled. "Not this time. I want a second opinion about this man. Plus, a lot of my System knowledge is Legion-specific. It would help to have proper context for whatever I'm being told. Though I won't say no to a bribe if you insist."

"Hmmm." Marcus crossed his arms. "And here I thought you people had wrung every bit of System knowledge out of me."

"Possibly. But I suspect that you've internalized more than you realize. If nothing else, you'll likely be able to get a read on the man's intentions."

He nodded. That certainly was true. Still, Marcus didn't overlook the amount of implied trust that Gaius was putting in him. Though he'd told the Legion much about the System, that didn't mean they'd been as open with him about the workings and specifics of their class. Much he'd surmised for himself, but this sounded as though it would delve deeper into sensitive topics that had previously been hidden to him.

"Well!" Marcus smiled. 'I'm not going to refuse the opportunity to meet perhaps one of the most powerful people on the continent. If he truly is who I suspect, that is."

"You mentioned that. Who is this man?"

"A mage of legend." Marcus said simply. "A man so powerful that stories of his exploits are treated as myths rather than historical records. There are at least three epic ballads directly related to his deeds, albeit under slightly different names. And those are only the ones I can think of off the top of my head."

"Hmmm." Gaius considered the information, but didn't look nearly as impressed as he probably should have. "All right then. I will send a messenger for you before the meeting starts. It will likely be later this evening, since I have other matters I should see to before then. That will also give you time to clean yourself up."

Marcus sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "You need to remember to bathe, too. At least I had a chance to freshen up when we were at the duke's estate."

Gaius laughed over his shoulder as he turned and walked away, taking his stench with him.

Marcus rolled his neck and sighed. It was time for him to head out as well. Quickening his steps as fast as he dared, he left the baron's estate and made for the nearest inn he could find. Given how quickly the Romans worked, it was entirely possible that they'd already erected a bathhouse somewhere in Hausten. However, he had neither the patience or energy to find out. Right now, he valued expediency above all else.

Stepping inside of what appeared to be a relatively simple and cozy inn, Marcus found quite a crowd inside. At least half of the tables were full of Legionnaires, all of them with tankards of some amber brew in front of them. Most turned to look as he entered, their eyes lighting up with recognition and interest.

"Marcus!" One called, raising his drink. "Here to grace us with a song or two?"

He grinned. "Always, friend, provided you'll grace me with a drink or two in return. Ah, but you'll have to be patient. I'm afraid the road has not been the kindest mistress, and I have no desire to inflict her perfume on others."

"What does that mean?" Marcus heard one of the younger Legionnaires lean over to whisper to his fellow.

"He means he smells like shit." The other soldier replied.

"Oh. Then why didn't he say that?"

"Because performers never pass up a chance to make something sound fancier than it is."

Marcus chuckled at the exchange and swept into a bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a few moments… I'll return soon to regale you with story and song."

A chorus of cheers rose up as he made for the innkeeper. To Marcus's surprise, the man didn't seem to mind the fact that his establishment was packed full of soldiers who had only recently conquered this city. In fact, he seemed rather pleased. Taking a look around at the sheer number of drinks and meals being served, perhaps he could understand why.

The man hurried to lead him upstairs to the washroom. There, he turned a large knob set above one of the wooden tubs. Water began to pour out of a spigot and into the tub, slowly filling it.

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. A faucet like this was a marvel he hadn't seen since leaving the capital. They were prohibitively expensive works of enchantment, reserved only for nobility. "You must run quite the establishment to have a luxury like this."

The innkeeper chuckled. "While my place is better than any you'll find in Hausten, this is a rather new addition. Those Legion folks got that aqua-duck thingamajig of theirs working and hooked near everyone up to it. Pretty much everyone's living like a noble now."

The bard ran his hand under the water, only to pull it back immediately. "It's… it's hot?!"

"Yep." The man beamed. "Nice, ain't it? Between all the new business and the cost of enchantments going way down, I got it installed for a rock-bottom price. I even got a ten-year supply of fire crystals for a few dozen gold. Can you believe it?"

That caught Marcus's attention. "How did you find magical materials that cheap?"

The innkeeper shrugged. "Seems like there's been a lot more magic goods floating around all of a sudden. Word is there's some sort of special merchant in town. They're hard to get in touch with, but if you know the right people, you can get kind of whatever you need for bargain-bin prices. It's crazy. It's like they have no idea what the stuff they're selling is worth." He shook his head. "Well, I'm not complaining. But anyway. Enjoy your bath, sir."

A moment later Marcus was left alone with the quickly-filling tub. He had a slight suspicion about who this mysterious purveyor of magical goods may be. And if he was right… Well, this meeting with Gaius might prove somehow even more interesting than he'd expected.

Putting the matter aside, he quickly shucked off his clothes and settled into the bath. Marcus groaned contentedly as he felt the days' worth of sweat, grime, and soreness slowly seep away. By the time he managed to pull himself out of the tub's blissful embrace, his clothes had been freshly laundered and folded by the door.

He pulled on his finery once more and stretched. If he had been a lower level, he would have needed a nap immediately. But as things were, he felt as though he'd be more energized by working in front of a crowd right now. Besides, it would ensure that Gaius's messenger had no trouble locating him.

Heading downstairs, he started picking out his setlist for the night. There was an impromptu stage of a couple of rectangular tables shoved together in the far corner, a chair perched atop them. The Legionnaires had all shifted their chairs and benches around so that they were in a wide arc in front of it. Marcus grinned at the sight, climbing atop it to a chorus of cheers and good-natured insults from those more familiar with him.

As he sat down, he tuned his lute, letting the tension build. Then, just before the anticipation turned to impatience, he began.

It's twilight now in the Embered Flask,

The torches are flickering low,

There's a soldier whose face has forgotten its youth,

Sippin' a wine that he barely knows.

He says, "Son, can you sing me a marching song?

Though I don't recall its tune,

But it's strong, and it's loud, and it made us all proud,

And I'll likely be living it soon…"

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