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

It was late evening when the Legion's forward scouts brought reports of their destination. The mines lay only a half mile ahead, set into the side of one of the land's rolling hills. Rather than advancing right away, Tiberius had ordered for their mobile command post to be set on a nearby hill, one where he could see all the way up to their walls and a little beyond in many directions. It was a bit further back than he might have liked, but there wasn't any better vantage point closer in. Not one that wouldn't get spotted immediately.

Of course, with such a large force, staying unseen for any amount of time would prove nearly impossible. The element of surprise would rather come from the sheer scale and unexpected nature of their attack. Regardless, as with any successful operation, time would need to be taken for planning. And so the Legion made camp before marching on their objective.

He pored over the battle map once again in the dim candlelight of the command tent. The biggest concern of this assault would be making sure their own forces didn't get in each other's way. The execution of the individual tactics could be handled by the first centurion of each cohort. But the positioning and overall approach? That was all up to the Legatus.

Tiberius knew that he was being overly cautious. The opposition's forces were reported at around a hundred soldiers inside the mines and the town that had sprung up around them—as expected. Evidently, the place had not been reinforced further in the wake of recent events. Between their numerical advantages and Quintus leading the vanguard, he didn't anticipate any real resistance to speak of. But the planning of this assault needed to be impeccable regardless.

This campaign was more than its straightforwardness implied. Nor could it accurately be called a training exercise. It would also serve as a tactical shakedown of their entire operation. A field evaluation of how their logistics, training, and usual methods had been affected by the addition of skills—for better or for worse.

Based on what he'd already seen, Tiberius considered the benefits to be mostly positive in terms of efficiency and effectiveness. However, whether those would be maintained in battle had yet to be seen. They were bound to find unexpected consequences and bottlenecks they hadn't even considered. Hence why he was being particularly attentive and proactive in ensuring that everything went as smoothly as possible.

Tiberius turned to one of his aides. "Lucius. Confirm that the sixth cohort has received the extra pila allocated to them."

"Sir," Lucius acknowledged the order before closing his eyes in deep concentration. A few moments later, he reopened them. "Confirmed, sir."

"Good. I expect a full report about the efficacy of their specialists from their Pilus Prior after the battle."

Lucius closed his eyes again as Tiberius looked on. Communications was one of those areas that had seen unquestionable progress. The task of passing off messages was now the job of a few people with an interconnected web of skills. Several had become aides while others were positioned with the escorts and sometimes individual sentries at strategically important positions. Even the battle map on the table was no simple thing, its details shifting before his eyes as they were updated by Legionnaires specializing in scouting and analysis.

Instead of having to choose between delayed information and staying close to the front lines—where he'd be a tantalizing target—the commander could now control the battle from afar without worry. It was an incredible boon to their capabilities—even if the whole setup took some getting used to. As much as Tiberius was acclimating to the witchcraft of this world, some parts of it were a little too new and untested for him to simply embrace with open arms.

Tiberius turned his attention away from his aide, already dismissing the matter from his mind and moving on to the next one. He continued to review details and make adjustments well into the night. He somewhat regretted not swapping out some of his skills for ones more focused on tactics and strategy. Most of his current ones dealt with logistics and direct command, and as helpful as they had proven, the choices felt somewhat lacking in the face of this current operation.

Regardless of his regrets, the matter wouldn't be a dealbreaker. It would just give the specializations of his subordinates a time to shine. Besides, it wasn't as though this would be the last opportunity for him to experiment. There would be plenty more campaigns to come. So long as they were victorious.

As his candle burned low, Tiberius finally stood from his seat. The sounds of the camp around him had lessened as the rest of the men finished their own preparations and headed off to sleep or took watch. Now, it was time for him to do the same. As much as he would have liked to continue planning.

He dismissed his aide and headed off to his own tent. As he made the short walk through the quiet of the camp, Tiberius allowed himself a look up at the night sky above. It was a strange and unfamiliar thing, far removed from the one he was used to. He didn't need to be an astronomer to recognize that much. And as fascinating as the orderly specks of light were, the sight filled him with a strange sense of loss.

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The sky had been a constant, a small source of solace among the ever-changing landscapes that defined the life of a traveling soldier. An assurance that, no matter how far he traveled, home was little more than a long march away. Yet now, even that wasn't true. Tiberius suspected that no amount of marching would bring them back to Rome—even with the strange magics of the System to empower them. It made him wonder how long it would be before he and his men saw their homeland once more.

He pushed the thought from his mind. Now was not the time for such idle distractions. With a small shake of his head, Tiberius pushed open the flap of his tent.

***

The sun was slowly rising over a distant hill as the Legion broke camp and moved into position. The hobnailed soles of their caligae made relatively little sound against the grass and dirt of the field they'd chosen as their staging area. Compared to the clamor they made against paved roads, they might as well have been barefoot. Not that these paths were paved—it seemed that the people of this world considered narrow paths of packed dirt adequate enough to be called "roads". One more project for them to address once they'd secured the area for Rome.

Before them stretched a continuation of the hilly landscape they'd seen on the way over, albeit slightly taller than the others. According to Marcus, the region was called the Menard Plains, with these particular hills being dubbed the Rolling Mountains by locals.

Tiberius couldn't help but laugh at the descriptor. He'd crossed the Alps enough times to understand what a real mountain was. Either this world had an inexplicable lack of the natural structures or these "locals" had quite the penchant for exaggeration. Still, there were mines set into these "mountains," so that was something.

As for the mines themselves, they were set into the side of the largest hill in the area. A smallish settlement stood just outside the mineshaft, surrounded by a fifteen foot tall wall of rough-hewn stone. According to reports, the place seemed to mostly serve as housing for the workers and their families. That, and a way to control access to the resource-rich hill beyond. Interestingly, it seemed that there was no slave population here, which felt a bit strange to Tiberius. In fact he had yet to see any during his time here. Maybe he should ask the bard about the matter.

The wall would be a slight impediment to their assault. However, there were a few glaring issues with its design. First, the structure was built straight up and down without any angles or murder holes. That meant that if archers were going to defend against invaders, they would have to lean out significantly in order to hit the men sheltering in the lee of the wall. This would allow the Legion quite a bit of freedom once they reached their target and ensured that they'd get much higher before they could be engaged.

On top of that, there was no one walking along the top of the walls keeping watch. There hadn't been for days now, according to the scouts. Either they'd received some kind of warning and were in hiding—unlikely, given the haste with which they'd marched—or the place simply didn't see much need for regular patrols. It meant that the Legion could more or less sneak up on their opponents by staying out of sight of the two guards manning the front gate and positioning themselves behind the other hills.

As expected, the mining town remained sleepily unbothered as Tiberius watched his men take their positions. There was no obvious response or reaction that he could discern—not yet, at least. The cohorts took their positions and, at a signal, they crept forward at half march, trying to remain undetected for as long as possible. A tall ask for a force this large. But considering all of the factors at play, one that they could afford to try. The first cohort began to angle toward the front gate, hanging back slightly. They'd be in charge of storming the entrance after a slight delay.

When they were only a quarter mile from the walls, they abandoned any attempt at stealth. There was no need, now that they were more or less in place. A bell began to toll from within the city as the few visible guards began to shout with alarm and scramble about. Finally, additional forces began to appear atop the walls, stringing bows and taking aim.

Tiberius grumbled under his breath at the delayed response. Tactically, it was good that their enemy was unprepared. But in the grand scheme of things it wasn't quite so simple. This didn't seem like it would be enough of a challenge to really push the Legion, nor would it be quite as trivial as Habersville's assault. That would severely limit the usefulness of this assault as a testing ground for his own forces.

He found himself almost annoyed at the idea—that, and the gall of the enemy to waste his time—before catching himself. He could not afford to underestimate them. Most of the soldiers in the town had reportedly averaged around level ten, somewhere between the local wildlife and the pair of assailants they'd faced not too long ago. And while his men had proven themselves able to overcome such a disparity with numbers and tactics, it was still no guarantee. Especially if the enemy had a way to isolate the Legionnaires and pick them off that way. Such a strategy could prove disastrous, since Legionnaires were not meant to stand alone. Not to mention that any anti-siege tactics of the defenders would increase the battle's difficulty by orders of magnitude.

There was always a chance of some unexpected development catching them off guard. As much as their scouts did good work, they weren't clairvoyants. It was possible they'd overlooked some aspect of this town through simple ignorance or lack of experience with the system. He deemed that unlikely though. THey were prepared as well as they could be.

Tiberius scanned the area and his map of the battlefield. All his men were in position. With one last nod of approval, he turned to a nearby officer.

"Signal the attack."