For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 12B3 : Plan B

B3 Chapter 12: Plan B

When Quintus finally made it through the lines and back towards the command post, he managed to find Gaius relatively quickly. But it seemed he wasn’t the only one aiming to have words with the young leader.

Tiberius stood beside the new Legatus, his bearing as regal and confident as Gaius was tense. Despite being a similar height to Quintus, the emperor seemed almost taller than before as his stony gaze fell upon the centurion. Though perhaps Quintus was just imagining it.

Immediately upon arriving at the hub of activity, one thing was clear. Tiberius was not pleased. To be fair, the man wasn’t exactly prone to smiling even on the best of occasions. Almost anyone else would have just found his expression to be its usual grim façade.

But they had worked together long enough that Quintus could read him a little bit better. There was a certain tightness in his eyes and a slight aggressiveness in his stance that made it clear. They were subtle clues, but present all the same.

Quintus came to a halt, offering a bow to the emperor and a salute to his new Legatus. “Sir. We have identified and eliminated all [Mana Batteries] in the vanguard, as ordered.”

Gaius nodded. “Good work, Primus.”

“A risky manuever.” Tiberius spoke in a deep rumble as he met Quintus’s eyes. “Did you perhaps wish to distance yourself as much as possible from the responsibilities of command?”

Gaius’s grimace tightened slightly as Tiberius continued to stare levelly at Quintus. He internally winced. It seemed that the Legatus was not the only one that the emperor was unhappy with.

On some level, he realized that staying beside Gaius would have been a smarter move than joining the ranks. But his decision hadn’t been an impulsive one borne of battle lust and boiling blood alone. Standing beside his men, Quintus could be a beacon of stability, an example that inspired confidence and rallied the troops around him—something they needed even more in the wake of the leadership changes. Besides, he’d always led better from the front. He often found himself better able to grasp the tides of battle when he was submerged within them rather than looking on from afar.

He considered explaining that he simply did as he was ordered, but that was no excuse. With his experience, Tiberius was right to expect Quintus to exercise more discretion. Indeed, he should have been the one to offer other suggestions of how to deal with the problem.

Responsibility fell squarely on Quintus’s shoulders. Not to mention he didn’t wish to throw the lad to the wolves entirely.

He didn’t argue with the emperor, nor offer a defense for his actions. He suspected that Tiberius had already considered any rebuttal he might pose. Luckily, he was spared from a further dressing-down by the arrival of the duke on horseback. The noble dismounted and offered a bow of his own, the elven Legatus joining them soon after.

Seeing that all of the commanders had gathered, Quintus stepped back. He knew perfectly well that this was not his place. Despite his experience, his authority was no match for that of the men around him. Yet Tiberius had made it clear that assisting Gaius should have been his highest priority this entire time. So rather than assuming he’d be dismissed, Quintus simply took up a position behind the young Legatus and waited.

Tiberius gave all of the commanders nods of acknowledgement. Then, to his surprise, the emperor turned to address him directly. “Quintus. How long before the main force arrives?”

He was taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Twenty-five minutes, sir. That's what scouts estimate considering their speed, positioning, and the fact that they'll need to reabsorb their vanguard. Seventeen if they push past them, or more if they decide to be cautious.”

"Very good," Tiberius nodded before turning to the others. "We will review the effectiveness of your tactics after the battle. For now, I will be taking command.” 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

No one protested the declaration.

Immediately, Tiberius began issuing orders. The cohorts of each legion were divided and placed in strategic positions around the battlefield. Several teams were split off to assist the men already setting fortifications and traps, with some hurrying out to build new ones. They would be quick and dirty, given the amount of time they had. But in this world? Quick and dirty was nothing to scoff at.

“Duke Redcliffe.” Tiberius addressed the graying noble beside him. “I saw your cavalry move quickly to run down the vanguard. Is that their maximum speed?”

The man shook his head. “No, emperor. Most of the men have additional skills to hasten their movement. Some make them move more quickly the longer they remain in motion, others simply provide a simple burst of speed.”

“I see.” Tiberius nodded. “Group them according to the type of movement skills they possess. I want units that are specialized in short, medium, and long range engagements.” He turned. “Legatus Sylendor. How many of your men still specialize in movement and stealth…?”

Several times, Tiberius pressed his commanders for information on their men’s capabilities. He would then adjust plans accordingly, sending out orders to fine-tune positioning and adjust fortifications to more exacting types. He even asked Gaius and Quintus for their input, though the man knew what the first Legion could do better than anyone. Still, Quintus got the impression that these questions may have been more teaching opportunities than actual inquiries.

Quintus worked on translating the Legatus’s broad directives into actionable orders and getting them to the proper channels. Gaius did much the same, though the lad tended to listen more than he spoke. On one hand, it was a good thing. Perhaps it meant he was taking in Tiberius’s example and would learn something from it. On the other, it was hard to miss the lad’s growing tension as he realized just how much more he could have done to prepare.

The battlefield quickly transformed, faster than Quintus had thought possible. In no time at all, towers rose into the air, with elven archers stationed at points of interest. More of their pointy-eared allies took up positions behind the first Legion’s lines to reinforce them from a range. The duke's cavalry was hidden behind a [Galmor] and split into a dozen smaller different parts for a larger impact at critical moments. Better fortifications for repelling a charge, providing better vantage points, and giving soldiers a place to cycle out and rest sprang up around them.

It no longer looked as though the Legion were being ambushed at their camp. Now, the marquis’s troops would be assaulting a well-fortified position, one that might as well have been prepared weeks ahead of time.

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Quintus was eventually sent back out into position to take control of his cohort. Despite Tiberius’s earlier words, the man knew how valuable his first centurion was on the field. And now that Tiberius had taken charge, Gaius had a better advisor to watch over his shoulder. Quintus and his men were placed front and center as the keystone of the battle line, as the first cohort should be.

The sight of the fortifications around him filled Quintus with newfound confidence. With the ability to erect them as quickly and easily as this, he may never have to face a completely open field battle again. He’d seen too many men die as a result of stacking up on their enemy’s flank in an attempt to roll them. Thrilling as it may have been, he would take an advantageous position behind a solid line any day.

Finally, twenty minutes later, the enemy drew near. He and his brethren watched as the enemy approached and they waited for Tiberius's plans to take shape.

***

Tiberius watched with grim satisfaction as the battle raged before him. Things were going quite well indeed. Now that he’d organized things and coordinated their forces, the marquis’s forces were out of their depth.

The Legion had managed to draw everyone in and pin them in place with proper flanking forces. Their only avenue of retreat was up a steep hill that proved much more costly than the enemy expected. The first couple of times they had tried it, they found themselves faced with a different wall—one of fire and death raining down from above.

Traditionally, siege weapons were made for taking down large, stationary targets like walls or defenses. Troops themselves were far too mobile to be practical targets. Even aiming at large formations could be difficult, as erecting and aiming the weapons took time.

That issue had been remedied beautifully. Hundreds of fist–sized rocks and stones rained upon the men’s heads, guided toward targets through the magic of skills and enchantments. Lengths of metal and wood that might have been called spears tore through the soldiers like upscaled versions of the elves’ arrow rain. Through a mixture of enchantments and skills, the weapons proved more effective and versatile than ever.

The speed and frequency of the assault was relentless. Quintus had been right—their engineers’ newest innovations were proving quite effective in the field. Even better, they were holding back. Most of the more costly ammunition made from in-demand materials or bearing particularly complex enchantments stayed in reserve for now. There was no sense in wasting it before it was needed. Against a retreating force of massed soldiers forced to run up a hill slowly, this was devastating enough.

It only helped that the the soldiers of the main army proved significantly weaker than those of the vanguard. Evidently, the advance force had been comprised of the elites, the best of the best, outfitted to deal with any problem that the army would encounter while the main force was left to mop up the remains. Given what he knew about this world’s combat, it made some amount of sense. But when that vanguard failed… It left the rank and file scrambling a bit more than one would normally expect.

That wasn't to say they were going to win so easily, of course. As satisfying as it would be to completely wipe out the enemy, there was a tradeoff to be made. His own men had begun to tire as well. And while they could certainly chase down their foes as they began to retreat, the odds of eliminating them down to the last man were vanishingly low.

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that they would come out of this battle without any reports back to Novara. Nor was he entirely certain that chasing down the enemy wouldn’t lead them out of their advantageous position and into some other trap. They would certainly crush every last one of the foes that they could. But if a few got away, as they always did… it would not be the end of the world. They had grown enough that information leaks were practically unavoidable.

As long as they could keep the majority from retreating to Novara’s capital, he would be satisfied. But that certainly didn’t mean he would let them off easy.

Interestingly enough though, it seemed that the retreating force wasn’t trying to head in the direction they expected. They fled further to the north, possibly toward the marquis’s own lands if he had to guess. It meant that any remnants of the routed force wouldn’t get in the way of their march. Perhaps whatever dregs remained might try and sneak up behind Rome’s forces later, but judging by the terrified faces Tiberius saw? He rather doubted it.

Tiberius watched as his men slowly closed in on the panicking army like a tightening noose. Every once in a while, a Legionnaire would fall or be hobbled by a lucky strike or a particularly empowered attack borne of desperation. Yet even when they fell, Tiberius felt nothing. He no longer experienced the visceral thrill of dread that accompanied the deaths of his own Legionnaires.

It was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it would allow him to avoid distractions amid the fighting and focus on victory. Yet at the same time… that feeling had reinforced their bond. It had made him keenly aware of each man's sacrifice as they gave everything for Rome. It made the battle feel so much more impersonal than before.

It was just one more way that he'd been alienated from his men. It had been no different before all this, back in the original Rome, but now… He would have to ensure that they were properly honored in some other way.

The marquis’s forces rallied again, their dwindling numbers spurring them to make one last push to escape. They spread out, running up the hill once more as the siege weapons and archers rained down death upon their heads. A few drew ahead, looking as though they might actually escape.

Then another group appeared over the top of the hill.

Tiberius could see the momentary flicker of hope in the enemy's eyes, only to be replaced by despair. These men were no allies. Their armor, battered and worn as it was, still displayed a familiar insignia upon it. That of the Duke of Redcliffe. His son and the remainder of his cavalry had finally arrived.

Tiberius smiled as the horsemen split into small wedge formations and plowed through the retreating men, completely blindsiding them. The scouts had reported the approach of these men, of course. It had been one of the many things Tiberius had factored into his plans. Though he hadn’t considered just how effective they would be.

There was nothing but chaos as the horses trampled men underfoot, their riders hunching low with their lances. They wheeled and spun, emerging from the crowd of the marquis’s men only to turn and make another pass through. Three times, the horses charged through the retreating men, decimating their numbers.

When all was said and done, they’d come much closer to completely eliminating the enemy than Tiberius had expected. The grasses of the fields around them lay flat beneath fallen bodies, hoofprints, and the stamping of armored feet. The groans of injured and exhausted men replaced battlecries and the clatter of weapons as they finally were granted a moment of rest.

He looked out at what remained of the marquis’s forces. There wasn’t much. Only a few of the more important-looking generals had been rounded up and left on their knees, bound and disarmed. At their center was a man in exceptionally expensive-looking armor that would have been more at home on a display stand than in actual battle. Considering its pristine condition and the completely impractical ornamentations that littered its surface, Tiberius guessed that was exactly where it had been until recently.

It didn’t take much to guess who it might be.

Looking on the situation from afar, Tiberius watched as the first Legion prepared their new prisoners to be brought before him. Perhaps they would be ransomed like the duke’s daughter had been. Perhaps they would be executed outright or interrogated for information. He hadn’t yet decided what the best course of action would be.

Yet as he mulled the matter over, he saw a figure riding purposefully out to the battlefield. The duke and an escort. A glance to the side revealed that the man had indeed left Tiberius’s side, which was understandable. Perhaps he meant to reunite with his son and his men.

But as the riders turned aside, it became clear that was not at all the case. They turned toward the prisoners, coming to a halt before them as the duke dismounted. He stood over the marquis, his face as black as a midnight storm. The two men exchanged some rather heated words that Tiberius couldn’t hear from this distance as his Legionnaires looked on.

Before Tiberius could send a messenger that way, it was too late. The marquis spat in the face of the duke and snarled something. In response, the duke drew his sword from its scabbard and beheaded the man in a single stroke.