For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 45B3 : Presenting, The Beetles

B3 Chapter 45: Presenting, The Beetles

Marcus scrambled to his feet. If he hadn't been wide awake before, he certainly was now. And the situation around the camp only confirmed Abel's words.

The commotion he'd heard outside resolved into a chorus of curses and heavy footfalls. Dashing for the tent flap, Marcus emerged to find that most of the Legionnaires had already done the same. They were rapidly grouping up, albeit in various states of undress, stabbing and stomping at the black shapes that now covered the ground.

Glancing around for their source, Marcus spotted a collection of freshly dug mounds protruding from the ground all about the camp. Chitinous forms poured out of the miniature volcanoes, the clacking of pincers a steady drone that underpinned the rest of the chaos.

[Black Beetle Scavenger] (Lvl 3)

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. At least they were low level. Though that was little consolation when facing numbers such as these.

Rather than spreading mindlessly about the camp, however, the creatures seemed to have an aim. Several aims, in fact. All about him, the insects skittered into packs and cookpots and pockets wherever they could. Many came away with rations of bread or dried fruit as others were smashed or crushed before they had a chance to claim their prizes.

He stomped on a few, tap dancing in place as they tried to dart past. They were surprisingly sturdy, albeit slow. It took his entire weight to crush one underfoot, its legs splaying out awkwardly, and even then its shell remained more or less intact.

Marcus looked over his shoulder to see Abel stabbing at more of the beetles as they attempted to steal a wedge of hard cheese and a slightly stale pastry from his bag. The boy was quite adept at finding the chinks in their armor. But before he could marvel at the squire's dexterity, a shout rose up from elsewhere in the camp.

“Rally around the food stores! Move!”

The Legionnaires hurried to group together, grabbing whatever food of their own they could salvage on the way. Several shouted strings of rather inventive expletives as the disturbed bugs gripped tightly onto arms and backs to avoid being shaken off, their sharp pincers drawing blood.

Marcus rescued his belongings from the bugs, shaking off a few stragglers as he hoisted them out of reach. “Come on, Abel!”

“Milord, your sword—”

“You're already using it better than I would. I see no reason to change that!”

With that, the pair sprinted out of the tent and began following the stream of beetles deeper into the camp. It didn't take long to reach their destination. A ring of Legionnaires had positioned themselves around their supplies, but they could only do so much against the burrowing foes. Even with men stabbing at any bug that showed its ugly head, a steady stream of food was disappearing underground every moment.

Marcus frowned. While the bugs posed little threat to the Legionnaires themselves, the theft of the soldiers’ food would be far more problematic. As the Romans were fond of saying, an army marched on its stomach. And while the men could last quite a long time on little food, these supplies were also meant to sustain their brethren on the warfront.

Quickly, he pulled out his lute and strummed a few quick chords. Then, he turned his [Charm] up to max and began to sing.

A [Bard] was more than a simple performer. In fact, more than one had made names for themselves as adventurers rather than entertainers like Marcus. They chose a different set of specializations and skills that allowed them to support their party, strengthen others, and—modt importantly—hinder their enemies.

Marcus had not chosen that path, of course. But that didn't mean he couldn't exercise some of his skills to emulate the same effects.

The song rang out across the camp. He'd hoped to slow the swarm or maybe draw some of their attention, lessening the pressure on the Legion. These bugs clearly weren't the most intelligent, so it shouldn't be too hard to influence them. Though such tactics obviously had a smaller range than that of the music itself.

At least, that's what he thought.

The insects froze in place. A wave of sudden quiet rippled out across the camp as the skittering stopped, leaving only the song and the sound of Legionnaires swearing in its wake.

Then, all at once, the bugs changed direction.

Marcus unintentionally slipped into a falsetto as the nearest of the beetles began scurrying up his boots. He kicked them off in a hurry, backpedaling away from the encroaching mass only to dance around more insects approaching from behind. He soon found every beetle in the vicinity swarming toward him in a sea of shiny black.

He quickly danced through the bugs, placing his feet wherever he spotted a patch of clear ground and using the bugs as stepping stones where that wasn’t an option. Abel tried to follow, only to fall behind as Marcus’s superior dexterity stat and [Mythchaser] quickly took him away. The boy’s rapier quickly began to resemble a skewer of rather unappetizing street food as more and more bugs fell victim to his stabs.

The Legionnaires wasted no time in taking advantage of the opening. A group of them hastily worked to secure the food and kill any remaining bugs trying to abscond with it. Meanwhile, Marcus arced around the camp singing his song the whole while.

“While these bugs

Lend me an ear,

I could use some help, here!”

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The lyrics were fairly basic, but his current audience wasn't exactly the most discerning. Besides, it got the message across.

In no time at all, the Legionnaires shifted their attention to destroying the rest of the swarm. Now that they didn’t have to worry about defending an objective, they were able to make quick work of the creepy crawly critters as Marcus led them around by the antennae. Luckily, the beetles were slow enough that they stood no real chance of catching up to Marcus. But he did have to watch out for more burrowing up from below regardless.

Ten minutes and a lot of jogging later, Marcus finally fell silent. He doubled over, panting from the prolonged use of his skills and the several laps he’d made around the camp. Behind him trailed a veritable sea of chitin and twitching legs, the last of which were being run through by Legionnaires just to be safe.

“Damn!” One of the soldiers clapped him on the back. “That’s pretty useful. Since when have you been able to do that, friend?”

“Since… now…” Marcus panted as he caught his breath. The effectiveness of his song really had far outstripped his expectations. Had his recent levels really improved his abilities so much? Or perhaps this was one of the benefits of Apollo’s blessing? He resolved to check his status at the first available opportunity.

“So long as you don’t do it to us. Though I’m pretty sure Decimus was following right along with them, the fool.”

After the Legionnaires finished expressing their appreciation, they began the work of clearing the now rather littered ground of the camp of the felled monsters. Once he’d caught his breath, Marcus turned to address the elephant in the room. The rather proud-looking squire standing off to the side.

“You were amazing, milord! To control such a horde simply with the sound of your song—”

“Abel,” Marcus interrupted the excitable boy, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Why—no, how did you follow me?”

“Because I want to serve milord and learn from you,” the boy answered without hesitation. “As for how, one of the officers was kind enough to lend me a horse. He said I was old enough to fight, he did.”

Those bastards, Marcus cursed internally. He would make sure that the man responsible came to regret his decision. The Romans had a different threshold for when a boy was old enough for war. But that didn't mean he agreed with it. He or the System.

“I left you behind for a reason. It’s not going to be safe where we’re going.”

Abel looked him dead in the eyes. “I don’t remember you leaving me behind, milord. At least, you never told me to stay behind. And besides, I need to push myself if I'm to earn a rare class like yours.”

The bard pinched the bridge of his nose at the boy’s look. He really had hoped that simply sneaking off would have been enough. Unfortunately, it seemed that he'd underestimated Abel's stubbornness. Worse, he did have a point. Without a wealthy backer or powerful connections, taking risks and dedicating oneself to their path was about the only way for a person to try and earn a more rare or exotic class. It was how he’d gotten his. Still…

“There's a difference between pushing oneself and running to one's demise,” Marcus muttered. Then he shook his head. "We will talk about this later. For now… go see what the Legionnaires need.”

Abel brightened. “Of course, sir!”

The youth scampered off to do as he was bid. Marcus couldn't exactly send him back, not alone and this close to orcish territory. Besides, considering the help he'd gotten from the Legion, there were more likely to help him get back than anything. Which meant Marcus was stuck with him until further notice.

Marcus grumbled, helping out where he could before trying to eke out a bit more sleep for the night. Keeping himself alive was already going to be a problem. Looking out for the boy as well? He just hoped that these Legionnaires found him just as endearing as the last ones.

***

The next few days made it perfectly clear how dangerous an area they were wading into.

From the moment they stepped into the mountainous wasteland that the orcs called their home, they found themselves under nearly constant attack. Not from the orcs, though. It was the rest of the land’s inhabitants that they needed to worry about.

Apparently, the inhospitable place wasn’t lacking for other dangers. Sharp-toothed lizards that disguised themselves as rocks, sharklike creatures that swam through the earth as though it were water, flying skeletal shapes that dove at anyone careless enough to go off on their own… There was no end to it.

They’d been warned about such things, of course. The creatures were leery of approaching larger groups, so the men who had come before them had managed to avoid most of them. Even the scouts, who usually moved in twos or threes, could usually make use of their skills to sidestep any conflict or simply stay out of sight. But whenever their century rested or had smaller groups split off for any reason, the predators would take advantage of the opening to try their luck.

With conditions like this, Marcus supposed that the orcs’ disproportionate strength made sense. One wouldn’t survive in this place without being strong. Even the relatively low-leveled monsters were incredibly vicious and could be a real threat, even if one was prepared. It also made their comparatively short lifespans seem a little less crippling, given how death seemed to loom over this place.

Fortunately, the Legionnaires were up to the task of keeping everyone safe. Although he did pitch in a few times by bewitching particularly small-minded predators with his songs, practicing his new abilities and testing their limits. He managed to keep up with the men fairly easily, though Abel had much more difficulty navigating the terrain with his horse. It took an almost constant stream of [Inspirational Song]s to keep both the animal and the boy from falling behind the column.

As they traveled, Marcus considered the deal he made with Apollo. They were in too much of a hurry to make a detour to a class stone, meaning he hadn’t yet been able to check for a tangible change in his status. However, his certainty at it being more than a particularly vivid dream only grew. Though it was strangely timed, given the lack of worshippers in need of “converting” around them—or intelligent life at all, really. Even most of the Legionnaires already proclaimed some sort of respect for the deity, though Abel had taken to the worship of Mars with a fervor that had surprised everyone. Apparently, many of the House Aridus survivors had done much the same.

Still, he made what preparations he could. When the time came to sing Apollo’s praises and nudge people in his direction, he intended to do so. Getting on a god’s good side might not be a bad idea, after all—especially if it would earn him one or more favors. And considering the definite improvement in his persuasive abilities as of late, it seemed as though there were other benefits he could reap as well. Besides, he’d never been one to shy away from performing.

And so, he did what he always did. He composed songs and tales that weaved together the stories of this world’s gods with those of Apollo. They were rough things for now, but soon enough he was confident that they would be good enough to spread on their own, not just through his own tellings.

After a few more days of travel, Marcus could feel the nearness of the other Legionnaires. What had once been a tight bundle of connections stretching out into the unknown began to fan out and grow more distinct as they drew close. Soon, the sound of battle echoed between the rocks and reached their ears. The century sped up, moving quickly as they neared the warfront. It sounded far more active than Marcus had been led to believe, and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

When they rounded the corner, they spotted a gaggle of green-skinned orcs battering at a small shield wall. Behind them stood a gully filled with strange contraptions and more men scrambling to get into position.