For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 25B3 : The Bigger Picture

B3 Chapter 25: The Bigger Picture

"Father! What are you doing?"

A young boy from the House Aridus crowd wriggled away from the group and darted toward the priests of Arashim. He grabbed at the robes of the eldest one, a bearded man who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Out of the way, child," the priest's voice was stern yet not overly cruel as he brushed the boy aside. His hands began to glow as the other priests began to mutter soft prayers. Another column of divine energy rocketed forth, this one resembling an ornate column.

This time, the Legionnaires weren't so unprepared. They formed up, though their hasty wall proved too small to entirely shrug off the attack. It punched through their center, sending a whole group of men tumbling.

The boy interposed himself between the priests and the Legion, forcing them to halt their attacks. “They saved us!”

"They are heretics." This time, the lead priest's bark was harsh and reprimanding. "They not only deny the primacy of the gods, but actively work against them. They have torn down their temples, massacred their followers, desecrated their names! We cannot allow such heathens within our city!”

He shouted with all the passionate righteousness of, well, a priest delivering a sermon. One of the adventures stepped forward at his words—a lithe woman with a bow and two knives slung across her back.

“Mate, are you daft? You really wanna do this right now? Cuz if you're looking for heretics, there’s a whole lotta greenskins around who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your gods. We’ve got bigger problems, and pissing off the ones who are helping seems like a shit idea.”

The priest sneered. “You know nothing. These outsiders,” he gestured to the Legionnaires, “herald doom with their coming. If we allow them to gain a foothold, they will destroy our way of life more thoroughly than if the orcs razed every single home and ate all of our children. The gods have made that clear. They are the threat.”

As he spoke, one of the other priests moved the child out of the way, clearing the path for another attack. But the delay had been enough for the Legionnaires to regroup. Another column of light ricocheted off the phalanx, though it wavered slightly under the impact. The nearby Novarans shouted in protest and alarm as they were forced to throw themselves out of the way of the wayward attack.

Marcus saw a look pass between the House Aridus members. Then, one of the [Knight]s stepped forward. “[High Priest]. I must beseech you to cease your assault. The boy speaks truth. If not for these men, our entire house may have fallen to the orcs.”

But the priest's expression only darkened further. “You side with the heretics? You mean to make an enemy of the gods?!”

“No. Our builders have constructed many a home dedicated to Arashim and paid many a tithe. You know this,” the [Knight] tried. “Were our lord still with us, he would tell you of the many offerings he's made to the gods and their causes. Yet we also owe these men our lives.”

“You make excuses for a greater evil than you know. They must be stopped.”

The two men continued to argue with increasing intensity. Marcus saw the House Aridus forces move to stand with the [Knight], as though preparing for the worst. The adventurers seemed split on the matter, not entirely certain what to do other than stay out of the brewing conflict. Though some of them did seem to edge toward the Roman side.

The Legionnaires, on the other hand, had clearly already made up their minds and were readying their throwing spears behind the wall. Just as it seemed they might come to blows, Marcus decided to step in.

“Friends, friends!” He made placating gestures toward the priests. “I believe there must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

He instinctively flared his [Charm], only to wince as pain exploded in his skull. Skills were still off the table for now, then. That would certainly make things more complicated. He couldn't even use [Appraisal] to see the levels of the priests.

The [High Priest] whipped around to regard the newcomer. “I see no misunderstandings here, fool. Only those who know not their place beneath the gods!”

Marcus gestured to the Legionnaires behind him. “These men are humans. Ones from a different time and place, of course. One from which we all descend. But they are not so unfamiliar as you may believe. Not nearly so much as the orcs. So why would they be the targets of your ire above a threat that has plagued Novara for centuries?”

“You cast doubt on the will of the gods?!” The old priest bellowed. Another priest behind him wore a stormy expression, but the lack of further reactions told Marcus he was barking up the right tree. If they had all known what their god said directly, then the reaction would have been different.

“Not at all. I merely question whether you truly do speak for them.” Marcus shrugged. “I wonder… Have any of you received such visions? Such divine commands?” Marcus addressed the other priests and spread his hands wide. “If this truly were a matter of such world-shattering import, then would not Arashim seek to spread the word to all of his followers?”

Arashim was a god with many, many followers. Marcus couldn't begin to fathom how many different directions his attention was pulled in at any given moment. It meant he likely only bothered to very occasionally communicate with his most devout followers, even someone as important as the [High Priest], and not at all with the lesser clergy.

However, Marcus’s words had less effect than he’d hoped. After all, churches did love their hierarchies and structure—especially Arashim’s. But he did see a flash of doubt cross a few faces of those with more ornate robes. He decided to double down. Without his skills, it was going to be a lot harder to convince them with pure charisma.

Silently, he sent up a quick prayer of his own for help. After all, if there was a time he could use it, this was certainly it.

“This man clearly bears a grudge against House Arashim’s saviors,” Marcus continued. “One that he intends to settle using the power of his god—a misuse of authority, to be certain. Whatever divine revelation he claims to have been blessed with has clearly been twisted, if not outright fabricated. That, or… well, based on his demeanor, he may simply be stark raving mad.”

“Such insolence!” The old priest turned on Marcus, his face red. “Be silent, heretic!”

The man’s palm began to glow, and Marcus internally swore. Evidently, he’d been relying on his skills a bit more than he’d realized to stay out of trouble like this. That, or he’d just picked his fight a little unwisely.

A beam of light shot towards him, its passage leaving geometric sigils in its wake. He prepared to throw himself out of the way, but a jovial voice echoed through his mind.

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“Don’t worry, I got you.”

Marcus's eyes widened. That voice… Despite its carefree tone, the power behind it was unmistakable. It seemed that, while Arashim may be busy, at least one other god was certainly watching.

He remained in place as a sphere of radiant white and gold appeared around him. The priest’s attack splattered off of the barrier with a musical sound, leaving him completely untouched.

The entire crowd froze in shock. The head priest’s eyes widened as the others began to mutter. Marcus wasn’t entirely sure about what just happened. But he had a pretty good idea. And he certainly wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.

“Truly, it seems as though I’ve struck a nerve,” Marcus shook his head in mock disappointment. “After all, if the gods deem me worthy of withstanding your ‘judgement’, then I would say that doesn’t speak well of how yours supports your mission.”

“You are no priest!” The head priest was practically spitting now, nearly incoherent with outrage. “How dare you claim to be so?!”

“It seems that I am as much a holy man as you are.” Marcus gave his best shit-eating grin, specifically designed to enrage the head priest. “Or do you intend to claim that was not, in fact, a work of the divine? I’m certain that someone amongst you is capable of using [Sense Divinity].”

The man screamed, moving to fire off another bolt toward Marcus. But one of his companions grabbed his arm. “Enough, Rine.”

“You too, Orrin?” The [High Priest] hissed. “Has this miscreant deceived you, too?”

“I do not doubt your dedication to the gods. But there is at least a kernel of truth in the man’s claims, though small. That shield was divine in nature.” The other priest turned his gaze on Marcus, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “There is more to this situation. For us to continue down this path without additional preparation would be… unwise.”

Marcus couldn't help but agree. The priest's display had successfully turned the crowd against him. Even the undecided adventurers eyed them with hostility after the attack on Marcus. If they kept this up, the Legionnaires wouldn't be the church's only enemy in this fight.

The man called Orrin raised his voice to address the other priests. “We must pray for guidance on the events of this day. In the meantime… we shall pull back.”

The high priest vehemently protested, but his ravings fell on deaf ears. His brethren pulled him away, evidently deferring to Orrin’s directions. The other priest swept one final look across the crowd.

“Though we do not take to the front lines, know that the church has not been idle in addressing the orcish threat. As for heresy… know that we will not hesitate to seek retribution against those who attack the church and act against the gods. Of that, you can be certain.”

With that, he turned to follow the retreating flock of priests.

Marcus practically sagged with relief. That could have gone very badly, very quickly. If Arashim himself had decided to provide clarification or support in that moment, they would have been screwed. Even the Legion was not strong enough to stand up to the full might of a god.

But even a [High Priest] didn't have a direct line of communication to his patron. He would need specialized rituals and a lot of time before he'd receive any sort of “guidance”, or to be granted power past what he’d already shown. Time that would give the powderkeg of parties currently assembled time to disperse—and the Legion time to prepare a proper response.

Marcus heard the clatter of shifting armor behind him. Turning to look, he saw the Legion stepping forward, not quite giving chase but also not relaxing their guard for an instant. They’d apparently learned their lesson from that surprise attack.

One of the centurions met Marcus’s gaze and frowned. “That was a situation we could have handled ourselves.”

“Ah,” Marcus wagged a finger. “My dear Remus, you are mistaken. I did not intervene for your sake. I just did not wish for your valiant efforts to go to waste. After all, it seemed to me as though these people you rescued would have gladly laid down their lives to repay that debt.”

The centurion looked over at the House Aridus members, many still clutching their improvised weapons. Their determination had only redoubled in the face of this new aggressor. The boy who had attempted to stop the priests stood shell-shocked in the street, uncertainty written plain across his face.

“Besides,” Marcus continued, “making an overt enemy of such a large faction is something that should be run by the emperor, is it not?”

Remus grunted. “They attacked us. They are already enemies.”

“Fair, fair. But will the emperor wish for them to be engaged now, while there are still orcs to be slain? Or later, to limit the enemies you face at once?”

The man didn’t have an immediate answer. Marcus honestly suspected that Tiberius would have no problem with the Legionnaires running the priests down and killing them right there. But given the power the [High Priest] had displayed… Perhaps it really would be better to have more reinforcements for such an attack.

“What’s this about ‘my dear Remus’?” One of the other centurions called over mockingly. “Do you have something to tell us, brother?”

“Only that your mother makes a fine lay,” the centurion shot back as he gestured another man over. “Report this to Tiberius. He needs to be aware that there are other hostile factions in the city.”

The Legionnaire nodded, closing his eyes to convey the message. Marcus let out a sigh. “Well, then. I suppose I should be making my way toward the emperor as well… I don’t suppose you could spare a few men to accompany me?”

He was entirely spent. Trying to visit any more noble houses while in this state was a recipe for disaster and simply asking for failure. The best he could do now was to go see Tiberius and offer whatever insight he could about this new situation.

The centurion nodded and assigned a contubernium to go with Marcus. Stretching, they set off at a brisk walk toward the castle. Not a run—he didn’t have the stamina for that.

The Legionnaires relentlessly poked fun at him for his slowness, but he gave as good as he got. Besides, with everything he’d done today, he’d earned himself a bit of a break.

***

As much as it surprised him to admit it, Tiberius actually found Castle Novara quite impressive. Not just because of its size, intricate construction, and bizarrely shiny facade that seemed to fly in the face of nature and the elements. It was actually one of the most easily defensible structures that he had yet to come across as well.

The walls were imposing, with not a single protrusion or exposed surface to claw at or climb in sight. A slight slope ensured that there was no shadow in which to hide from archers or the assortment of defenders that crowded its top.

The telltale blue sheen of enchantment made it clear that their thickness wasn't the only source of strength, either—and if Tiberius had to guess, he'd bet there were plenty more tricks and deterrents in store to dissuade attackers as well.

That guess proved true as a small cluster of orcs reached the castle's base. They fruitlessly attempted to scale and beat at the walls, only to be rebuffed but an explosion of force. The defenders didn't even have to do anything.

Tiberius frowned. He had hoped the orcs would whittle these defenses down before he made his move. At the very least they could have made the Novarans tip their hand. Yet that no longer seemed as though it would happen. Not with so many of the orcs having fallen to his own men within the city.

His frown deepened. The fact that his men had diverged from orders so greatly was… concerning. He would need to ensure they received an appropriate reprimand. Later, though. For now, he had other matters to deal with.

Tiberius relayed his orders. The first and second cohorts began to set up defenses in a ring around the castle, even turning a few inconveniently placed buildings into rubble. Their remains would be excellent sources of ammunition for the siege engines.

The artillery rumbled into position behind the Legion's lines, their teams rushing about to prepare. Once they were all ready, Tiberius gave the order. It was time to test out a weapon that had yet to see live combat. One that hadn't yet found a foe resilient enough to justify its use.

Something that vaguely resembled a ballista, but larger and far more complicated, rotated to face the castle's front gates. Its entire surface was inscribed with runes and enchantments that made the weapon practically glow with energy. The slug of lead loaded within bore similar marks, all with one purpose in mind—to punch through anything in its path.

Tiberius waited until the others were ready. He wanted to be certain everything was in place, however this ended up.

“Ready, sir!” 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

With that final call, Tiberius nodded. The machine let fly its payload towards the gates.

He didn't even see it move. It felt like he barely blinked, before a boom like that of several thunderbolts all striking at once deafened everyone within a mile.

All Tiberius saw was the sudden crater where the front of the castle had been moments before, its perfectly round edges smoking and sparking with blue energy.

He heard a muffled crack through the ringing in his ears. Looking over, the ballista was in pieces. Evidently, a full power shot was a bit stronger than his engineers had estimated. A shame. Those things were not cheap to make. But it had done its job.

Tiberius turned toward Gaius, who stood waiting by his side. “Order the men to advance.”