B3 Chapter 3: A Structural Reorganization

The Legion made a little less progress than Tiberius would have preferred before making camp. It meant that they would likely need to push harder the next day, possibly even to the point that their last fortifications wouldn't be finalized until the sun had set. But it was an acceptable tradeoff. The newfound speed at which his men could erect a well-defended camp beggared belief, and its quality had jumped to levels he never would have considered possible in their old world. Besides, with his scouts confirming that all major forces were accounted for in the area, there was little chance of them being caught unawares and exhausted.

As for what was so important that it demanded such a course… That was simple. They needed a class stone.

Of course, Tiberius didn't slow the entire army's advance just for the sake of his own curiosity. He honestly had planned to put off checking his status for another day or two, when their planned march would naturally take them near one. But that had gone out the window when he'd seen the elves' speed—or rather, their slowness.

He hadn't expected the new Legion of elves to keep pace with a fully [Warpath] enhanced Legion, of course. But he'd expected their stats or skills to make them reasonably fast. Yet it didn't take long to realize that, despite their best efforts, they were falling behind.

The elven Legatus, Sylendor, hurried toward Tiberius. His face was pale as he stopped, snapping a precise salute. Behind him lay the tiny town of Aubern, which stood unnaturally silent. The arrival of such a massive force had understandably frightened most of the populace and sent them scurrying to their homes. Although there was no shortage of heads peeking over the walls and out of windows to gape at the mythical elf.

"Emperor. It is just as the [Appraisal] indicated. The System… I don't understand how or why, but somehow… I have been reduced to a level one."

Tiberius nodded. Even if Sylendor didn't understand, he certainly did. The blinding light that had consumed the elves when they'd sworn their allegiance was a familiar sight by now. It was the same light that had erupted from his own men upon activating their classes and every time they leveled.

"I see. Give me a full report."

The Legatus did as he was bid. Every word he spoke only further confirmed Tiberius's suspicions. The acquisition of group skill slots, the massive experience required to level, the legendary [Legionnaire] class… The elven army was no longer just a group of legionnaire pretenders. They were a Legion.

The revelation raised some questions about what might happen to others who joined a Legion. Would their levels and skills, too, be reset? Or would they be made to match the level of the Legion itself? What about auxiliaries who joined?

He shook his head. There were too many questions, and they weren't yet ready to answer them.

Despite Sylendor's barely concealed horror at the sudden drop in his men's combat power, Tiberius was unconcerned. True, they would go into the coming conflict without the skills and stats they'd relied on for so long, as both had reset to their baseline values. But Tiberius saw those things as crutches. He'd seen how effective his own men were as fresh level one's. Losing the advantages of most of their System-enhanced abilities would show the strength of the elves' fundamentals. If they were strong enough, those skill levels would return quickly enough. If not… then perhaps it would be the incentive they needed to redouble their training. Starting with [Marching].

After hearing out Sylendor's report, Tiberius issued a few general orders to the man. Namely, that [Marching] must be assigned as a Legion-wide skill. The others he left to the man's judgement. As tempting as it was to insist on [Shield Wall] as well, the elves' fighting style didn't lend itself quite so well to the skill's use. Besides, giving the man free rein would be a good test to see what kinds of abilities and tactics he placed value on.

He also made sure to share some of the basic information about how the [Legionnaire] class worked. While the elf still seemed a little shaken over the changes, hearing about the massive shared skill pool and stats gained per level seemed to mollify him somewhat.

Sylendor looked toward an aide of his own as he took notes before nodding to Tiberius. "I must meet with my officers to decide on the best course of action. Then we will have our men assign their own skills. By your leave, emperor?"

Tiberius nodded and waved the elf away. He watched as Sylendor began hurrying through the camp.

There was one more reason that the elves' resetting levels didn't bother him. It meant that they might be considered less of a threat, yes—but they would also be less of a threat to him as well. If their new Legion had ended up being more powerful than their human one, in stats, skills, and levels… then perhaps Tiberius's reign would end before it had ever begun.

The deep snap of a ballista firing filled the air. Tiberius glanced up in time to see a bolt as thick as a spear shoot through the sky. A blur of pink darted after it a few seconds later, letting the projectile gain just enough distance that the dragon had to actually pump its wings to catch up. The massive beast caught up with the bolt and snatched it out of the air, gripping it gingerly between massive jaws.

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"Good boy, Rufus! Bring it!"

The magically-amplified voice of the Grand Mage rang across the camp. Tiberius could do little more than shake his head. Admittedly, the sight of such a mighty beast chasing down the weapons like a dog running after sticks was an entertaining sight. And from a few offhand comments the mage had made, it seemed that the resemblance was no coincidence. It also had apparently made him an enemy of every single other dragon alive for what they saw as an inexcusable insult. That last part he'd told Tiberius while laughing, as though the ire of an entire race were a rather entertaining joke.

The implications were worrisome, to say the least.

Tiberius eyed the ancient mage as his dragon landed beside him. He'd understood since meeting the man that, despite his appearances, Grand Mage Claude was no limp-wristed, doddering scholar to be trifled with. He was the most powerful individual they had yet to encounter in this world, and by a wide margin as well. Tiberius had no doubts that the man would be able to bring an entire nation to its knees by himself if he so desired, even without the aid of his monstrous pet.

The fact that Claude seemed to desire nothing of the sort was a rather fortuitous development. Rather, the old mage seemed to desire nothing more than to pursue his research in whatever subject currently interested him—and right now, that subject was the Legion.

It was a blessing in many ways. The more Tiberius learned about the old mage, the more he was incredibly grateful that they weren't enemies. He doubted that even their forces would be able to stand against him. Not for another dozen or so levels, at least.

But even without Grand Mage Claude adding his combat power to their own, he had already proven his worth several times over. It was clear enough from Gaius's enthusiastic reports on the men's skill development as of late. The levels were rolling in even faster than ever before, and some of the ways the men had managed to stretch and bend their skills were honestly astounding.

This march was only the latest example. The strange path they'd left in their wake had only become more obvious and conducive to travel as they moved. Tiberius thought he'd even seen the beginnings of paving stones appear underfoot a few times after the mage gave the frontmost cohort some visualization exercises to try out. If that ability continued to develop… Well, perhaps the Legion wouldn't need to expend much effort in maintaining their empire's roads after all.

His thoughts, and his enjoyment of Claude and his pet "playing", were interrupted as Gaius strode toward Tiberius. The newly-appointed Legatus drew himself up tall and saluted, perhaps a little more stiffly than he used to. "Emperor Tiberius, sir. The camp is in order. All the men are accounted for. As for the duke, his men arrived not too long ago. The man himself is requesting a meeting with you."

Tiberius nodded. "Good. Have him escorted to the command tent once his own forces are settled. I have a few matters of my own I must see to first."

Gaius saluted and turned away. He had hardly taken two steps before an officer was at his side with some other matter that demanded his attention. The sight was admittedly a little disorienting. It felt strange for Tiberius to not be the one taking charge of such things, as though he were somehow neglecting his duties. Even though they were no longer his to see to.

He sighed. For the moment, he had a bit more time to himself than he quite knew what to do with. But he supposed he should enjoy it while it lasted. All of that time would certainly go up in smoke the instant they reached Novara's capital.

At least it seemed as though both Gaius and the Legionnaires were taking the transition well. Of course, the new Legatus leaned on Quintus and his experience quite a bit, but that was only to be expected. It was one of the reasons he'd left his Primus Pilus in the position, after all.

Although he was interested to see who Gaius would choose as his own Tribunus Laticlavius now that the position was open. A few of the officers were already clearly vying for the spot, and some were clearly more suited than others. But he would hold his tongue and refrain from giving advice unless Gaius asked for it.

Best to let the boy figure things out himself. Even though Tiberius had promoted him earlier than expected, that didn't mean he couldn't still give him tests.

Tiberius began to make his way into the tiny town, his guards flanking him the whole while. The duke would have to wait. Now that the camp was all settled, there was one matter that he'd put off for long enough already—the matter of his own class change. And considering that the class stone would likely soon be overwhelmed by elves looking to review their own statuses, it would be best for him to visit it sooner rather than later.

Not that anyone would dare make an emperor wait in line or anything so silly. But he did not want his own activities to interrupt an otherwise well-coordinated operation if he could avoid it.

He stepped toward the class stone, his guards scanning the surroundings for any threats. His hand made contact with the obsidian monolith. A ripple of golden energy rushed up its length before bursting into a sparkling cloud of embers that danced just beneath the stone's surface. The motes of light rushed down to suffuse Tiberius's hand as though caught in a whirlpool, rushing through his fingers and up his arm. He flashed briefly with golden light as words materialized in the air before him.

Information:

Name: Tiberius Rufius Maro

Age: 54 (LIV)

Class: Emperor (Mythical)

Level: 4 (IV)

Experience: 0/400 (CD)

Stats:

Strength: 12 (XII)

Dexterity: 11 (XI)

Constitution: 14 (XIV)

Charisma: 21 (XXI)

Wisdom: 15 (XV)

Intelligence: 15 (XV)

Free Points: 0

Titles:

Born to Rule

Born to Conquer

Bonds of Brotherhood

Conqueror of Towns

Roman Emperor

Bane of Cats (III)

Bane of Spiders (II)

Bane of Ghouls (IV)

Boss Slayer (I)

Craftsman (III)

Blood on Your Hands (II)

Titanslayer

Warforged (I)

Baron

Imperator

Expansionist (I)

Skills:

[Logistics] (Uncommon) - Lvl 41

[Swordsmastery] (Rare) - Lvl 3

[Rallying Cry] (Uncommon) - Lvl 22

[Keen Eye] (Uncommon) - Lvl 35

[Paths of Victory] (Rare) - Lvl 7

[Warpath] (Rare) - Lvl 6

[Coordinated Bulwark] (Rare) - Lvl 3

[Military Leadership] (Uncommon) - Lvl 69

[Inspiring Oration] (Rare) - Lvl 3

[Commanding Presence] (Uncommon) - Lvl 62

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