For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion

"Rudolf!" The [Fighter] called over to one of his party members. "What level is that thing?"

The [Ranger] blinked, then stared intently at the creature. "Er… twelve. Higher than most stuff around here."

"That's gotta be some kinda roaming boss," the party's leader scowled. "That doesn't look like it belongs in this forest."

"Be careful—it's a chimera type," the [Healer] woman called over.

The adventurers grimaced as if that meant something. Quintus and Ricardus rejoined the rest of the Legion as they formed two walls, one with four men and the other with three. The lines moved to flank the beast from slightly different angles. The adventurers, however, had other plans. Rather than attempt to work with the Legion, their warrior charged toward the face of the beast, screaming with his sword held high.

The archer continued loosing arrows at the beast, repositioning around the clearing as quickly as he was able. Most of them sank into tree trunks as the creature's slight movements sent them skittering off its thick pelt. Several, though, struck true and lodged themselves in their foe, slowing it down. Their healer was still occupied by reviving the member of the Legion that had been stabbed in the side with its stinger. From his brief glance over, Quintus suspected that the venom dripping from its stinger must have been difficult to heal.

All this, Qunitus took in as he slotted himself next to his fellow Legionnaires. They could have used the extra man, but it couldn't be helped. Right now, he was more worried about driving the beast off than killing it. Especially given its own state.

The serpentine creature had taken countless deep stabs into its sides, on top of the arrows peppering its face and body. Quintus had even personally hacked off part of its tail. Yet it still showed no sign of retreating. In fact, it was healing. Its hind leg, which had been injured on their first assault, was now moving much more nimbly than he remembered. It didn't look as though it could pounce like it had done at the start, but it was no longer stumbling over it every time it tried to move. And that did not bode well.

Whether that really did indicate some sort of supernatural healing or simply its ability to adapt to wounds, he didn't know. But Quintus did know the thing was clever. Its tactics had proven as much, trying to bait them into lowering their guard for an attack from behind. Only pure chance had allowed them to avoid it. He wasn't confident that they'd be able to see through its tricks in the future, especially if the engagement dragged on.

The thing leaped onto its prey, its claws slamming into the fallen man's shoulders. That was when Quintus called the charge. This time, seven swords slid into the beast's sides in unison. Their blades kept it from jumping up, forward, or back as it hissed its odd roar. Quintus kept everyone in formation as they repeatedly stabbed over and over again. The thing began to thrash, attempting to writhe and roll away but hemmed in by the pair of shield walls.

In the back of his mind, Quintus made note of another tactic they needed to try—stabbing in a wavelike or alternating series of blows instead of in and out all at once. An approach like that would be incredibly useful in this case. As it was, he simply tried to make sure that his individual stabs were always offbeat instead of synchronized in the intimidating, singular motion that shield walls were best known for. Pinning this thing in place was almost more important than dealing damage.

Eventually, though, the beast grew wise to their cadence. When the others drew back for another strike and left only Quintus's blade inside, it suddenly jumped forward. His arm wrenched up at the sudden movement as the beast threatened to carry it away. He grimaced, activating several of his skills and slicing down and through the bottom of the beast's belly.

Blood sprayed the men as the monster screamed. Its nearly flayed rib cage started to peel open in midair as it completed its leap, disengaging from the wall of spikes that had caused it so much pain. The thing roared and spun, pulling the rest of its body clear of the Legionnaires. Yet the sheer amount of wounds finally seemed to take their toll as it stumbled once more.

Quintus saw the beast turn toward the forest in an attempt to flee. But before it could take two steps, an arrow streaked through the air in a flash of brilliant light. The projectile slammed into its back leg before exploding with a soft whump, like that of a fresh log falling on a raging bonfire. The beast screamed again. This time, Quintus sensed pain and fear in its strange hissing roar as it stumbled. Its still-healing rear leg tried in vain to support its weight as its front two claws dragged itself forward.

The Legion didn't need the order to charge. The men rushed forward and resumed their stabbing for several long, gruesome minutes. But finally, the beast gave one last shuddering breath and ceased its movements.

Quintus turned and looked over his shoulder. The scrawny archer was on his knees, panting as he propped himself up with his free hand. His bow had dropped to the ground, sweat and puke spilling from his mouth as he heaved.

Ricardus stepped forward and clapped the [Ranger] on the back. "Good work, lad."

The archer tumbled forward from the impact, sprawling into the dirt.

***

"Isn't there supposed to be a bridge here?"

Sharath crossed her arms, frowning at the scene before her. A wide river divided the open plains at their backs from the expanse of tree stumps and forestry that characterized the opposite bank. The rushing water churned with tips of white foam as it swirled about the unseen rocks below.

Merethe cocked her head, eyes glazing over for a moment as she referenced her mental map. "...Yes. This is the right place. Look."

She pointed to the riverbank. A few remnants of partially-submerged wooden pylons on either side were all that remained of what must've once been the bridge. 𝙍å𝐍оΒЁṣ

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Sharath shook her head. This was an annoying development. Not that it was a real problem. Even at level nine she'd had enough agility to deal with an obstacle like this, not to mention six levels later. Still, it was a sign that something was indeed wrong.

"Think someone took it down on purpose?"

Merethe shook her head, short blonde curls swinging slightly as she did. "I doubt it. The water level appears quite a bit higher than the bank would indicate. I suspect that this was the result of natural phenomenon. Then again…" Her gaze traveled upward to the curls of smoke lazily drifting up from deeper within the forest. "...Perhaps not."

As they mulled over the broken pillars, Sharath looked over toward her sister. Her mottled green cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze, making the edges of her form indistinct and difficult to pin down even now. The longbow slung over one shoulder gave a clear indication as to her profession. Despite that, her sister's fine features and tall stature gave Merethe an elegant poise that turned heads—at least, whenever she wasn't trying to remain unseen.

Sharath herself shared many of the same distinguishing features. In fact, from up close, they were as close to identical as two sisters could be without being literal twins, all the way down to the moles on their left cheeks. It was one of the reasons they'd both found it so important to differentiate their styles. Still, most of Sharath's preferred black, tight-fitting garb had been tucked away for the moment, stored in favor of more convenient travel tunics and the like. For now, at least.

Her chosen attire lent itself far better to a more urban setting. Back in the cities, Sharath was the one who blended into the shadows and alleys without effort. But here, in the wilderness? She actually had to work to keep up with her sister. But soon, she would have to don her battle gear and tie up her long blond hair in a braid close to her scalp. Habersville wasn't far, after all—just across the river.

Of course, Sharath didn't expect to face too much trouble. Not anything that they couldn't handle, at least. This mission was exactly up their alley, something that was exceedingly rare for a pair of scout- or rogue-types traveling alone. It had been a lucky find on their way through the local barony, and the emergency pay was an even better cherry on top. It meant that they wouldn't have to scrounge for lower-level quests or team up with larger parties for a while yet.

That last option wasn't something either of them were eager to jump back into yet. Currently, they were between parties—far between parties. Their last one had been a disaster entirely. It wasn't Sharath's fault, nor Merethe's. They got along with people amazingly. They just hadn't found anyone with whom they wanted to get along in the last couple of years. Duoing like this would slow down their leveling a little bit, sure, but at this point they were still strong enough to make do. A level 15 adventurer could find work in most places in the outlying provinces, if not in the capital or some of the higher-level zones. As long as they stayed in human-occupied areas and didn't push too far, they would slowly grow. It just took patience.@@novelbin@@

"Hey," Merethe said, her [Eagle's Vision] flashing as she peered past the distant bank. "I see something. It looks like… a group of guards, perhaps?"

She pointed to a path that wound into the treeline. Sharath shaded her eyes and squinted. Unfortunately, she didn't have nearly the same vision as her sister. "You're gonna have to help me out, here."

"There are ten men, all of them rather short. Their attire and weapons are relatively consistent, swords and some kind of tower shields. They appear to be moving carts filled with… stone, perhaps?"

"Are they rebuilding the bridge? Why would they use stone when they're living right next to a forest?"

"Well," Merethe said, gesturing to the broken pylons. "Wood didn't seem to work out for them last time."

"Huh." Sharath snorted. "Well, that doesn't seem like particularly rebellious activity. We should still take a closer look, though."

"Agreed. Either way, we should move before we're seen."

As they'd talked, Sharath crouched low and activated a few of her stealth abilities to hide among the tall grass. At this distance, it seemed like overkill to go fully prone, but reducing her profile couldn't hurt.

"You know," Merethe pointed out, still standing out in the open, "How about we just go talk to them?"

Sharath looked up. "Really? Do you really think that's a good idea? They wouldn't pay for adventurers like us to come and check it out if everything was peaceful. He'd just send a herald or something. Clearly, the baron thinks this should be treated as some kind of insurgency."

"I don't know how a herald would cross this," Merethe said as she gestured to the washed-out bridge.

Sharath shrugged. "I guess… Can we at least scout it out first though? Before we just walk up to an enemy fortification and say 'hi'?"

"Fine," Merethe sighed, conceding the point. She joined Sharath, wrapping her cloak around herself and crouching low. Only the [Rogue]'s higher-than-average senses let her make out her sister as the green cloak faded into the gentle brown of the tall grass around them. "Let's go a bit upstream. We can cross there."

The sisters moved slowly and cautiously, keeping an eye out for any other patrols or signs of life. However, slowly for them was equivalent to a light jog for most normal men. Before long, the group was out of sight behind a copse of still-standing trees.

In the meantime, they reviewed the quest instructions. They were to scout out the rebellious holdouts of the area and pacify them if possible. If that wasn't possible, then they were to report back. It was rather light on instructions. The main caveat was that they needed to get it done as soon as possible, which suited them just fine.

Sharath took a couple of steps backward, then sprinted toward the river. As her foot met its edge, she launched herself into the air, somersaulting gracefully over the rushing water below. Her boots touched down on the other side with only the softest of sounds.

She grinned back at her sister, who rolled her eyes at the display. Merethe soon joined her on the other side of the riverbank, albeit with a far more reserved display of her dexterity. Once they were in the forest, they began weaving their way back downstream, flitting between shadows and tree trunks as they moved.

"Huh," Merethe noted.

Sharath paused, raising an eyebrow. The ranger's voice came out as a low whisper. "There's shadow panthers here. Creatures like that usually stay deeper inside the forest, not near the edges like this. Let's avoid them."

Routing themselves around the monsters didn't take much effort—not that fighting them would have been a problem, either, but it was best to avoid disturbing things where they could. Still, it was unexpected, and unexpected things were never appreciated on missions like this.

Once they'd made their way back to the road, they edged closer to get a better look. At this distance, Sharath was able to pick out a steady stream of traffic as materials and men trudged to the river and back.

"Those don't look like town guards," Merethe whispered. "They look more… militant. Like an army. What's their level?"

Sharath focused for a moment and activated [Appraisal]. She had taken the not-uncommon skill, whereas Merethe had not. Wasting an entire slot to simply gain some basic information was not exactly a popular move. However, someone in the party had to have it. And as a rogue, it was a little bit more important for Sharath to know who she was up against than her sister. Especially given how frequently people would try to hide their true nature or class.

"...Well?" Merethe prodded her after a moment. "Anything?"

Sharath didn't respond. Her mouth simply hung agape. They were level one. These men, most of whom had to be in their twenties or thirties, were all level one. There was even an older man with grey in his beard, clearly a grizzled veteran. How? How had they failed to level, even accidentally?"

"Sharath?"

She snapped her jaw shut, glancing over at the concerned face of her sister. Swallowing, Sharath narrowed her eyes at the soldiers. "Something is fishy here."