For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 36: Something Stupid This Way Comes

The town watched on from afar, gathered in the field as the thousands of soldiers marched away. Their bearings betrayed a mixture of emotions about their departure. Many of the children ran about, jubilantly laughing, cheering, and pointing as though the event were a particularly exciting attraction at a carnival—an attitude sharply contrasted by the looks of consternation adorning their parents' faces. In fact, the only ones who appeared even more concerned to Marcus's eye were those with daughters of courting age. Their stiff demeanors and set jaws remained completely at odds with the girls' teary eyes and flowers.

He shouldn't have been too surprised. Such developments were only natural, after all. But it always surprised him just how quickly entanglements between soldiers and the local folk could spring up.

Marcus himself stood among the gathered crowd, seeing the Legionnaires off with the rest of them. He had obviously considered accompanying them on their campaign, of course. Such a development was monumental. Their second conquest since they'd been summoned, and their first real move to expand the fledgeling empire they had begun to form… such an adventure would surely prove a crucial part of his epic in the making, not to mention the value of the stories themselves. After all, wasn't that what he was here for? To chronicle the daring deeds of the bold as they made history?

But alas, after ample consideration, he'd elected to stay behind this time. He had responsibilities to attend to. For one, a good portion of the Legion would remain behind to oversee the town, albeit without much of their leadership. As the acting liaison between the soldiers and the townsfolk up to this point, Tiberius had personally requested that he help the officers in charge interpret and avoid any potential misunderstandings.

The request had honestly surprised him. Given the man's disposition up until this point, Marcus hadn't expected Tiberius to trust him with such a thing—much less when he was away and unable to keep his eye on the bard. It would be simply foolhardy to refuse such an opportunity to curry favor with the Legatus. And given how many other things he had to tend to around town, well, staying behind only made sense. He would just have to trust the Legionnaires he'd tasked with bringing back details and stories for him. Between their penchants for storytelling ability and accuracy, he could surely piece together something quite serviceable.

His staying behind certainly had nothing to do with the sheer speed at which the Legion was marching. Not at all. His attempts to keep pace with the first group of men had purely been for reference purposes, nothing more.

Marcus watched the soldiers disappear into the forest in a seemingly endless column, shaking his head in disbelief. They were already moving at a speed practically equivalent to an average man's run. And that was while moving through the narrow path out of the Evergreen Seas. If they increased their pace once they emerged onto the open roads… He shuddered at the thought.

Tiberius obviously hadn't told him their exact plans, but he had managed to piece together quite a bit from the man's questions. The mines that he believed to be their destination were only a few days travel away. But at the pace they were going, the men would certainly arrive well before that. At least, if skill exhaustion didn't put an early end to their march.

He kept his ears open, listening intently to the quiet mutterings of the townsfolk around him. A gathering like this, amongst neighbors and friends, made people feel comfortable with sharing their thoughts and opinions more openly with each other—something which he took full advantage of. In this case, those mutterings took the form of rumors about what this march was all about.

Since Tiberius and the Legionnaires hadn't told the people about their intended destination or the events of the previous evening, the theories remained quite varied indeed. Some said that the town had almost been invaded and they were moving out to seek retribution—by who varied. Some claimed Novara, others the green skinned devils from the west, and even one young man claimed to have seen them fight off a troop of level 100 elves from deeper in the forest. Others claimed that they were leaving to find the source of some insidious magic that had fallen over their men. Some even guessed that they were off to deal with another monster threat like the spiders.

Those were only a selection of the ridiculous stories circulating. Despite all of the exaggerations and outright lies though, he'd heard a few people land relatively close to the truth, albeit still a bit embellished. That a party of high-level adventurers had come to take the town back, and the Legion had fought them off. Two wasn't quite a complete party, and while level fifteen might have been high around here, it wouldn't have even qualified the pair as trainees back in the capital. Still, it was better than he'd expected them to get. Even if the conclusion that the soldiers marched forth to get revenge wasn't entirely correct. Not immediately, at least.

That wasn't to say that a group of level one soldiers fighting off level fifteen opponents was any less impressive. If they were level one, of course. He still had yet to unravel that mystery but he'd seen enough Legionnaires step away from the class stone with pleased expressions written plain across their faces. Whatever their true level, it was clear that they were making progress of some sort—even if it was somehow hidden from his [Appraisal].

Marcus hummed a jaunty march under his breath, keeping in time with the men's footfalls. He'd considered playing something for them as a farewell send-off, but had decided against it. He'd already done plenty of that in the aftermath of the funeral, and the men were in too much of a rush to entertain any kind of ceremony or delay like that. The best he could have done would be to serenade the troops as they passed by or entertain the crowds here—something that might draw the wrong kind of attention to himself, if it meant people would ask for details about what was happening. Besides, considering their speed, he doubted that the Legion would even appreciate an [Inspirational Song] from him.

As the last troop marched into the forest and out of sight of the town, the spell over the gathered crowd seemed to break. People began turning their attention elsewhere, dragging their children back inside or returning to their fields and businesses to continue their work. Even a few lumberjacking teams set out, each escorted by Legion patrols, preparing to do their sweeps through the forest.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Marcus turned toward the Legion's camp, then hesitated. Was that where he wanted to be right now? Gaius had been left in charge of the camp, and he was on quite friendly terms with the young officer. But at the moment there was no explicit need for him to spend more time in the command tent.

Shrugging, the bard turned his steps back toward Habersville. He had yet to be called upon for a specific task or report of any kind, meaning he could spare some time for himself. The spectacle of the Legion's march also had him in the mood for a performance of his own. Perhaps he'd seek out a tavern and play a few songs there. It was a little early, but surely someone was drinking at this time. If they had managed to find more booze, of course.

Marcus hadn't made it two steps when he found himself halted suddenly. Looking down, he'd run directly into an open palm held out before his chest. His eyes traced up the slim, feminine hand up to meet its owner's intense gaze.

"Oh! Myra! How wonderful to see you again!" Marcus instantly slipped into character, taking a half-step back and giving a flourishing bow. He had made sure to memorize her name after their last encounter, just in case she caught him again. Now he was glad for his foresight.

"Marcus." His name came out in a sharp, clipped tone that sounded angry. But when he risked a glance up at her eyes, he realized that wasn't quite the case. The crease of her brow wasn't quite right for that. Rather, her gaze held more concern than he'd expected.

Internally, he puzzled over the observation. If she wasn't angry, then what was it? An attempt to rekindle what they'd had? Was she really taking his distance this harshly?

"We need to talk." Myra said, invoking the phrase that all men grew to fear more than any other. She lowered her voice, glancing around at the townsfolk that still milled about. "But not here. Follow me."

"Of course, of course!" Marcus easily agreed, mind whirring with excuses to get out of this. "I'd love to talk, just as soon as I'm done with—"

"No. We need to talk, now." She insisted, grabbing his wrist and leading him through the crowd. "I'm well aware that you've been avoiding me, Marcus, but today you need to listen."

"Avoiding you? What man would ever want to avoid a beauty such as yourself, Myra?" He reluctantly followed, keeping his tone light. "It's just that I've been so incredibly busy keeping up with the Legion. They keep me on my toes—never a dull moment with them, as you can plainly see."

The look she sent him was skeptical at best. Marcus found himself slightly offended at her disbelief. Perhaps his performance wasn't quite as compelling as he'd hoped. Still, he allowed himself to be dragged along anyway. He supposed that this conversation was well overdue. Enough time had passed that, hopefully, there wouldn't be any passionate yelling or screaming as he let her down gently.

He followed along as she dragged him around the town's wall and out of sight. They weren't entirely alone, but a far enough distance from others that they wouldn't be overheard. Good—she wasn't planning on making a scene. That would make things much easier for both of them.

Marcus let out a regretful sigh. From his experience, it was better to take the plunge and begin on his terms rather than allow her the chance to work herself up uncontested. At least, that was how it usually worked. "Listen, Myra. I'm sorry that I haven't been around. I understand if you expected—"

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Myra held up a hand, cutting him off before he could say more. "Listen to me. Something's off with my father."

Marcus blinked, rocking back on his heels. It took a moment for him to switch tracks from his prepared speech to process her seemingly unrelated words. But all his years of performing had given him quite a bit of experience with improvising.

"Your father? What do you mean?" He asked.

Myra looked around warily as though double checking that they wouldn't be overheard. "I don't know. Something's just… strange. I'm not talking about him being surly, either—he's been that way since the Legion took his authority as mayor. But for the past few days at least, he's been… different."

Marcus recalled the embittered mayor that he'd spoken to at his manor. It had been all too clear that the man held a deep grudge against Habersville's new overseers. Yet he hadn't seen the portly man around at all since then. Even when he had gone back to pay him a visit, the mayor had always avoided him, perhaps not interested in another confrontation with the bard. But Myra was still speaking.

"...He's always been a bit secretive and, well, shady, but now? It's gotten to a whole other level." Her frown deepened. "And he won't tell me what's going on. Normally, he'd at least offer some explanation—some sort of problem with the guards, funding, or the baron—but he's completely stonewalled me. Not that I was ever involved in his schemes, of course, but he'd at least give me hints—especially if he wanted the gossip to spread."

Marcus remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Her hesitation said there was something else she wanted to say, but wasn't entirely sure if she should.

"...I think he's doing something dangerous. Really dangerous." She finally admitted. "I don't know what. I just get this feeling."

"Why are you coming to me with this?" Marcus asked slowly.

"Because," she folded her arms in front of her. "You have quite a bit of influence with the Legion, as you are so fond of pointing out. If he is involved in something like I expect he is, then I'd expect it has to do with them. And I'd rather minimize the fallout as much as I can, however I can."

He frowned, rubbing his chin in thought. This wasn't at all how he'd expected this conversation to go. There was a chance that it was all a ploy, a cleverly engineered excuse to seek his help and bring them closer together. Myra did seem clever enough to pull something like that off. But somehow, he didn't think that was the case. And if it wasn't, then this may prove more serious than he'd originally thought.

After a moment, Marcus nodded. "All right. I make no promises, you understand. But if he is up to no good, I can do my best to ensure that he remains unharmed."

"Good." Myra let out a breath of relief. "I appreciate that, Marcus. I won't say thank you, because… well, you owe me that much at least."

He winced internally at that. Evidently, she did still hold a bit of resentment under the surface. But if all he had to deal with was snide remarks like that, well, he'd count himself lucky.

He met her gaze, straightening with newfound confidence now that he had a better grip on the conversation. "So. Tell me everything you know."