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B2 Chapter 22: It’s a Wash
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 04:05:49 +0000 UTCB2 Chapter 22: It’s a Wash
Habersville’s bathhouse was less of a house with baths and more of an art museum that had been erected around a large pool. Clear waters filled the center of the space and lapped against tall pillars set along its edges. Murals and carvings decorated every surface, their reflections rippling softly as bathers lounged and swam.
Of all the structures the Romans had built, this one was the most ornate and impressive—excluding the in-progress temple of Mars, of course. It spoke volumes about just how important these things must have been in their homeland. That, or the boredom and idle hands of the Legion’s more artistically-inclined soldiers.
Marcus’s legs felt like wet noodles by the time he reached the bathhouse’s entrance. The run had only been a moderate one, but he’d done his best to focus on his form the entire way. Given that [Running] was only a common skill, he was fairly confident that even that might’ve been enough to reach level one. Hopefully.
He quickly stowed away his garments and belongings before pulling a ladle from one of the clay oil pots along one wall. He rubbed the oil into his skin, then scraped it off with one of the curved metal implements stowed nearby.
It was another one of those strange customs that Marcus didn’t quite understand. If they wanted to get clean, why not use soap like everyone else did? But the Legionnaires insisted on this ritual for anyone who came to bathe, and so he obliged.
With that done, Marcus stepped inside the bathhouse proper. The waters beckoned him invitingly, urging him to slip into their cool embrace. Yet despite the warmth of the sunlight shining down through the structure’s open ceiling, he noticed that the place seemed emptier than usual. For once, the townsfolk outnumbered the Legionnaires relaxing in and around the bath.
“Marcus!”
A familiar-looking Legionnaire called out to him from the edge of the pool, lifting one hand from the water in a wave of greeting. His face split into a friendly grin.
“Ah, Cassius!” Marcus’s smile was genuine. It had been a while since he’d seen the fellow storyteller. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I joined you?”
“Not at all, friend.” Cassius turned to a second Legionnaire sitting beside him. “Do you mind?”
The other Legionnaire shrugged noncommittally. “Do what you want.”
Marcus kept the smile on his face. It was clear enough that Cassius’s companion was one of the holdouts that wasn’t particularly well-disposed toward Marcus.
The bard joined the two Legionnaires, slipping into the water with a sigh of contentment. The temperature was relatively cool, but that was plenty alright with him. After everything he’d been through that day, it was refreshing. Although maybe the Legion didn’t know about heating spells and enchantments…
“What have you been up to, friend?” Cassius elbowed him in the side. “You look like you’ve put some hair on your chest since I last saw you.”
“You could say that.” Marcus muttered, leaning his head back for a moment as he relaxed. “I’ve been keeping busy. Composing songs, writing stories, fighting off monsters from the deep in an underground arena. The usual.”
Cassius’s eyebrows raised before he let out a thunderous laugh. He clapped the bard hard on the shoulder and shook, the motion making Marcus tense right back up. “That sounds like quite the story! I wouldn’t suppose you’re in the mood to share, are you?”
Marcus smiled. “Well, I haven’t properly composed it into a song like it deserves yet, but… well, I suppose I would be willing to share the draft.”
“That’s the spirit!”
And so, he regaled the pair with the story of how he and Gaius’s men had explored the underground amphitheater. How they’d been ambushed and forced into a pair of sea battles and, of course, how they’d emerged victorious. As he spoke, he noticed the initially disinterested Legionnaire sitting on Cassius’s far side growing more and more invested in the tale, going so far as to lean forward to see Marcus’s gestures.
He considered adding a few [Glamour]s and other effects for emphasis, but decided against it. While he liked to treat an audience of two as he would an audience of a hundred, Marcus still needed to recover his stamina. So for now, he allowed his words to paint a vivid picture for him.
“Well.” Cassius began as he finished speaking. “Your morning has certainly been more eventful than mine. Lucky bastard. Why is everyone else seeing more action than I am?”
“Says the one who was nearly buried alive by a swarm of ghouls,” the other Legionnaire muttered. “Was the incident in the mines not enough for you?”
“I still can’t believe I missed that.” Marcus grumbled. “Of all the battles to miss…”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, friend.” Cassius reassured him. “From the sound of it, you had plenty of interesting experiences yourself. Besides, is it really so bad to leave some stories for the rest of us?”
Marcus chuckled. “No, I suppose not. Although the aspects you emphasize are quite different from what I’m used to.”
“I’ve noticed,” Cassius agreed with a nod. “Your stories always seem to focus on the individuals, on singular heroes. Even when there is a group involved, it’s a small one with a clear main character. Our land has many such stories of heroes and generals and so on, of course, but still. There is an understanding of the ones behind that individual. Like us. It reflects the lack of group cohesion and tactics we’ve seen.”
Marcus objected. “Just because we tell stories differently doesn’t mean we don’t know how to fight. Besides, power scales to the individual. Why wouldn’t you sing about your heroes?”
“Why wouldn’t you sing about the armies they lead as well? Or have you simply omitted those stories?”
“Well…” Marcus hesitated. There were a few stories of the sort that Cassius described, but they were fairly unknown or unpopular. The man had a point, as much as he hated to admit it.
“You and your obsession with stories,” the other Legionnaire cut in, saving Marcus from having to respond. “I’m half convinced that becoming the hero of your own is half the reason you wanted to enlist.”
Cassius shrugged. “What can I say? I joined the Legion to seek honor and glory. If I end up finding even more than others, then who would I be to complain?”
“Speaking of the Legion…” Marcus took the opportunity to shift topics. He looked around the bath as he scrubbed himself. “It seems quieter today than usual. Is something happening?”
“Ah, you haven’t heard?” Cassius asked. “Most of the Legion is on the move again. Six cohorts marched out just this morning.”
That caught Marcus’s attention. He paused his attempts to remove the kraken bits from his hair to look at the bardic Legionnaire. “They did? To where?”
“I don’t know exactly, but apparently there’s an army coming our way from the barony. They’re trying to nip them in the bud before they cause any trouble.”
Marcus frowned. An army? Where had the baron managed to field an army from? His forces should have been tied up in the west like everyone else’s. Unless he’d been able to pull them back somehow?
“What kind of army?”
Cassius shrugged. “Again, I don’t know. I’m not privy to things like that. All I know is that my cohort has to stay here. We’re to be on alert for threats if things don’t go as planned.”
“Well, you certainly look alert.” Marcus quipped.
Cassius lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, there’s no cause for alarm yet. Might as well take advantage of rest when the opportunity presents itself.”
Marcus considered the man’s words as he floated in the water. The Legion moving to take on a force fielded by the baron… that was quite an escalation. It was a direct challenge to the baron and Novara itself, an escalation even from seizing Stonester. If they successfully beat them…
“Say…” Marcus began. “Do you think they’ll return after the battle? Or would they continue marching toward the barony?”
“Hmmm… no idea.” Cassius turned toward his companion. “What do you think?”
The man shrugged. “I’d expect them to keep marching. Best to take advantage of the enemy’s weakness.”
Realization began to dawn on Marcus. He shot up suddenly. “I have to go after them.”
“What?” Cassius frowned. “Why?”
“Why else? If they take the barony, I need to chronicle it!”
He didn’t state his other reasons, of course. This was exactly the kind of situation he’d spoken about with Eleonora. A chance for them to save everyone a lot of trouble—and lives. Provided he could convince the baron of the Legion’s danger, of course. But given that they’d be hot off the heals of decimating his army, Marcus suspected he may well have an easier time with that than expected.
He was already on his way to the edge of the bath when Cassius called out to him. “How do you plan on catching up?”
Marcus froze halfway up the steps. That was a very good question. With the speed the Legion marched, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up, much less gain ground on the army. And that was assuming he knew where they were in the first place.
His spirits fell as the futility of his task settled upon him. But then the other Legionnaire spoke again. “Why not accompany the auxiliaries. They may not have left yet. If you’re quick, you may be able to catch them.”
Marcus blinked. “The auxiliaries? They’re going as well?”
“Yep. First time they’ll see combat for most of them.”
Marcus relaxed slightly. He knew for a fact that the Legion’s supporting trainees weren’t nearly as quick as the full-fledged soldiers were. They had been training and almost certainly leveling their own [Marching] skills, but…
Suddenly, he realized that he’d never gotten the other Legionnaire’s name. He extended his hand. “My apologies, friend. I never formally introduced myself. I’m—”
“Marcus, I already know.” The soldier waved him off. “Only a fool wouldn’t recognize you at this point. You’ve gained more than a little notoriety among my brethren.”
The admission filled Marcus with pride. Having his name recognized was further proof that he’d entrenched himself well among the men. The combination of his campfire songs and exploits had evidently been paying off.
“Ah, I’m glad to hear that. I’m afraid I never quite got your name, however.”
“Romulus,” the man said. Romulus took Marcus’s hand cautiously, as though he still didn’t quite trust him fully. It was a common enough sentiment. As a charisma-based class, [Bard]s were often looked upon with as much suspicion as used horse salesmen. When his monstrous stat didn’t allow him to push past that initial distrust, of course. Which was one of the reasons such suspicion often proved justified. Still, given the Legion’s general resistance to his usual charms, he’d come to expect such a reaction.
“It was wonderful talking with you, gentlemen.” Marcus sketched a quick bow as he emerged from the water. “But it seems I must be on my way I wish you a wonderful rest of your day!”
His words flowed out in a rush as he hurried to the exit to get dressed. Picking up [Running] was already paying off. And unfortunately, it looked like he’d be power-leveling it quite soon.
