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Chapter 9: Old Women Spy Network
🕑 Added 2024-12-26 17:00:06 +0000 UTCChapter 9: Old Women Spy Network
Marcus straightened and peered up at the guards—no, Legionnaires, he corrected himself. They hated being called guards. Sextus seemed to consider him for a second.
"Hmm…" The man stroked his chin. "Depends. I want to hear these accents. I wouldn't suppose you'd be willing to grace us with one of those famed stories of yours first?"
Cassius elbowed his companion. "Fool. Didn't he just say he was busy? What, are your ears stuffed full of hemp?"
Marcus gave a dramatic sigh. "Alas, Cassius speaks true. I only have so much time before I must return." He shook his head regretfully. "The whims of your officers are not to be denied lightly."
"That's for sure," Cassius grumbled. "Come on through."
The men waved to someone below and the gate rumbled open. Normally, it would have stayed open during the daytime, as the most dangerous beasts of the forests only tended to emerge at night. However, with how new the Legionnaires were to the area, Tiberius had seen fit to exercise a bit of extra caution.
As Marcus headed through, he heard Cassius call again from above. "Stop by our fire tonight, Marcus! I'll regale you with the story of Romulus and Remus. It's a classic that you're sure to enjoy!"
Marcus considered it sincerely, but eventually shook his head. "While I appreciate the invitation, I expect that I'll be seeking my bed earlier than ever this night. But if not tonight, perhaps some other night."
With that, he stepped into Habersville. Or at least, what had been Habersville. The sight before him might as well have been a different town entirely.
The entire landscape was abuzz with activity, construction projects underway at every corner. Legionnaires carrying fresh-hewn logs or armfuls of tools packed every road as they bustled to and fro. Empty lots where houses had been torn down gave way to frameworks and in-progress structures being raised to replace them.
He took in the constructions with a critical eye. Finished housing wasn't exactly the Legion's specialty, it seemed. Rough, defensive projects were more their forte. But that didn't mean they weren't trying. And given the local woodworkers he saw already working on some of the completed buildings, Marcus supposed that they might begin looking much nicer soon.
An occasional local made an appearance in the surrounding populace, and noted their attitudes in particular. For the most part, folks seemed happy with the newly cleaned streets and updated infrastructure. However, it was easy to pick out the dissenters. He supposed that some weren't particularly pleased about being forced out of their homes to watch them be torn down. To be fair, they were compensated with a new house and additional resources from the Legion's hunting ventures—it was just poor solace, to say the least.
As Marcus made his way further inward, he saw that they'd even begun renovating the streets into wider and more gridlike arrangements. After asking a few questions, he'd learned that standard road sizes were apparently commonplace back in Rome, one of the many things that the Legion was eager to implement. It also explained the sheer scale of the renovations being undertaken. Redoing the very layout of the town required nothing less than it's complete upheaval.
"Oy, Mister Marcus!"
Marcus turned aside at the reedy voice. An old washerwoman named Margaret knelt in front of her newly-rebuilt home, sat on her newly-rebuilt porch, rhythmically dunking and scrubbing laundry into a wooden bucket on the ground. Her rheumy eyes took him in as she smiled widely. "Don't s'pose ya could spare a minnit fer an old woman like meself?"
He graced her with a particularly charming smile. "For you, Margaret? I could spare all day."
"Oh, shush," The woman chuckled. "Careful, flattery'll get ya everywhere."
Margaret wasn't just any old woman—she was a professional busybody. She knew more than almost anyone about what was happening in the town. A few tunes on his flute and some casual flirting had made him a fast friend of hers, and she'd quickly become Marcus's primary source of information for town gossip and happenings. The woman was vain enough to appreciate the attention, but wise enough to know it didn't truly mean anything. Thankfully for him.
He approached, leaning casually against a nearby post. As busy as he was, he did want to keep abreast of the local situation. It might even help him when talking to the mayor. "What's the news, my fair friend?"
She continued her work as she spoke."Oh, ya know. Everyone's still talking about that army camped outside—as if that wasn't yesterday's news," she said with a gap-toothed smile, her wrinkled face almost closing over her eyes as she chuckled. "But all this construction's got people in a right tizzy."
Marcus offered her his practiced performance smile, which felt less forced than usual. "Understandable. I can imagine there have been some complaints."
"Right. Some." Margaret snorted. "No one's happy 'bout losin' their house. But with how fast they've been gettin' the new un's up, it ain't too bad. Not to mention it's givin' folks a good chance to come together and ply their trades. And the new wall's certainly earned em' some goodwill, too."
He nodded. When the Legion had started tearing down the wall, many townsfolk had protested quite loudly. It had kept the town safe since its founding, and they were understandably concerned about becoming vulnerable to monster attacks. But when asked, the Legionnaires—especially those leading the project—had expressed their skepticism that the poorly-built, rickety thing could keep so much as an overfed cow out. Especially considering how easily they themselves had rendered it useless. By that evening, they had completely rebuilt the thing.
"Folks are a little less happy about 'em tearing down the temples, though," Margaret continued. "That's a whole headache an' a half."
"They what?" Marcus asked, his eyebrows shooting up. This was news.
"Oh, yeah." She waved a sudsy hand dismissively. "Ya know me, I don't even like them gods—fat lot of good they've ever done for me. But tearing down them temples has got those priests awfully 'set. Awfully 'set."
"What did they do?"
"Nothin'. Not a darn thing they could do, though. The army simply told them to git, and they went and got."
Marcus pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps they were simply another casualty of the town's renovations? Do you happen to know if there are plans to rebuild them?"
"Oh, there's more than plans, that's fer sure. They've got some mighty fine ones goin' up in their place. But they ain't fer any gods I've ever 'eard of." Margaret shrugged nonchalantly. "Comin' from a strange land, 'course they got their own strange gods they worship. But that's got 'em priests in a tizzy more than anythin', for sure."
"Hmmm…" Marcus muttered, tapping his chin. He'd have to ask about that. He'd picked up a lot about their culture from the book and rough banter of the soldiers, but he hadn't really discussed their mythology. He hadn't even imagined it might be different from his own. But if one didn't have the System to prove which gods held power and were officially recognized as ascended, then perhaps the differences made sense.
He tucked the thought aside for later. "Oh, by the way—how is your grandson faring amidst all this?"
Margaret paused, standing up and stretching painfully. "He's doin' good, but… well, you've heard about them conscription efforts. The army says they'll be roundin' up the menfolk fer workers and whatnot. Not that they seem ta need it, mind you."
The bard winced. He had heard about that. Evidently, the Legion needed auxiliaries to help handle all manner of tasks. While the Legionnaires themselves were plenty capable of carrying out all the necessary camp functions, doing so required time and people—which meant that they would have fewer men fighting. And since Habersville was the only settlement they had yet to encounter… That meant any military-aged man without a function essential to the town was being drafted.
Margaret wrung her hands. "Ta be honest, Mister Marcus. I was hopin' you'd stop by so I could get to talkin' with you about 'em."
Marcus grimaced. "Forgive me, Margaret. As charming as I may be, I don't think I have enough sway to get someone out of conscription."
"Oh, no, nothin' like that," the old woman waved her hand dismissively. "Gary could prolly use a bit of hard work to set him straight. He's a good boy, but he's been fallin' in with the wrong crowd lately, gettin' up to no good. So this whole thing——well, it might be the best thing fer 'im. But… you know the boys out there better'n any of us. Maybe ya could talk to his boss—his cent-oo-ree-yawn, whatever they call 'em—put in a good word for him. Just let 'em know that Gary be a smart boy. Maybe they could git him a bit of extra responsibility?"
Marcus internally relaxed, then smiled reassuringly. "That, I can certainly do. Though I make no promises. Not everyone finds me quite so charming as you do, milady."
The old woman chortled and swatted Marcus on the shoulder. "Well, I have always had a weakness for a pretty face."
After finding out who Gary's centurion was, Marcus bid Margaret goodbye and continued on his way. While it was a Legionnaire that Marcus had never met, he promised to track the man down regardless. The washerwoman had given him enough information that he was more than willing to do her a small favor. Not that he thought his words would carry much weight, of course—the Legion didn't seem to have much respect for anyone outside their ranks. That was made abundantly clear after they had fired the city guards.
He shook his head in amusement. Their public reaming had been quite the spectacle, and from everything he'd heard the men weren't allowed anywhere near guard shifts or weapons of any kind. Not until they'd undergone "additional training," which Marcus simply assumed was a living hell. He pitied the poor fellows.
Still, the news was mostly good. It seemed that the public's attitude toward the Legion had been shifting, bit by bit. People's suspicions were slowly being allayed since the Legion seemed mostly reasonable and invested in improving the safety and well-being of the town. It meant they, like so many groups of downtrodden peasants, were content to wait and see for now. Hopefully the upward progress would continue. For everyone's sakes.
He continued on toward the mayor's mansion, where several Legion officers responsible for the day-to-day running of the town stayed. He'd also been given a room there, as Tiberius had officially pronounced him a military asset. Marcus wasn't exactly sure what to think of being named an "asset," but it got him a comfortable bed in the best building in town, so he couldn't complain too much. Still, his bed would have to wait to welcome him until the evening. For now, it was the mayor himself who he was interested in.
Stepping up to the comparatively grand building, Marcus combed a hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. Hopefully, the man would be reasonable. But considering his current situation… well, this meeting may not be the most pleasant one.
He mentally prepared himself before stepping inside.
