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B2 Chapter 34: To Fight, or Not to Fight
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 04:06:49 +0000 UTCB2 Chapter 34: To Fight, or Not to Fight
Quintus looked over at the subdued noblewoman and her daughter. He'd taken them, their retainers, and the horses back to their camp and set a heavy guard about them before stepping away. He didn't particularly want them to privy to talks about what to do with them. Not unless it served a purpose.
Such decisions were usually above Quintus’s pay grade. Still, he obviously knew of a few common uses for foreign nobility once they were captured.
The soldier in him wanted to take the most expedient approach. They could march the pair up to the gate and demand the baron’s unconditional surrender. If they were refused, then they could start cutting parts off of the two until the baron reconsidered. It was simple, straightforward, and often quite effective.
But as tempting as it was, Quintus held himself back for a few reasons. The main one being the claims of the foppish excuse for a man before him.
“So. This duke is wealthy, then?” he asked.
The purple-cloaked bard sat across the cookfire from the centurion. Marcus, if he remembered correctly. Despite how much he'd done to ingratiate himself to the Legion and Tiberius in particular, Quintus simply couldn't help but dislike the man.
Sure, he got along well with the men, and he’d even heard mention of a few rather respectable contributions he’d made to their cause. He just seemed… dishonest. Sleazy. Two-faced. Like he would, if given a better deal, gladly turn tail and spring for the other side.
The bard nodded slowly in response to the question. The bard’s expression seemed relaxed, but Quintus couldn't help but notice the intensity with which the other man seemed to focus on him and his facial expressions.
“Indeed. In some respects, at least. I am uncertain of the status of his estate and its current assets, of course. But between his title and the leverage it gives him, he should be able to procure a hefty ransom. Although it may require time for him to move the capital,” Marcus said.
Quintus nodded. This was the other common use for nobles: ransoming them back to their families. Another tried and true way to fill coffers and bend others to their will.
Of course, there was a very decent chance they’d end up capturing them again later in their conquest, but that was of little concern. By that point he suspected things would be quite a bit different already.
The Primus Pilus fell into quiet contemplation. On one hand, his mission was to conquer this city and force it to surrender. On the other, he'd also been tasked with getting his men and the auxiliaries additional experience—both practically in the battlefield and numerically in the form of System levels.
The bard continued talking as he thought. “While I'm certain the duke will be quite interested to hear terms on the return of his daughter and granddaughter, let us not forget the baron as well. Making the surrender of his fine city a condition of the ransom would be quite reasonable, in my opinion. And beneficial to all parties. Wouldn't you agree?”
Quintus had to suppress a snort. He wasn't particularly concerned about avoiding conflict, in all honesty. While a siege would be a drain on the resources of both sides, it would also provide quite a lot of value for the men and for practical testing of their siege weapons.
A quick glance over his shoulder simply reinforced his point. In the short time they'd been here, the men working on fortifications had increased their speed manifold. They were gaining such valuable skill levels from this. Who knew how much the siege weapon engineers and operators might benefit as well? Once they arrived, of course.
However, he had been told to avoid unnecessary risks. And having a bit more money wouldn't hurt. He was willing to bet that Tiberius wouldn't say no to a few chests of this world's currency dropped on their heads.
“...Of course, I am quite aware that you by no means require the city to surrender. The might of the Legion would surely be sufficient to take it, even in your current numbers. However, it is both a matter of expediency and additional benefits. Surely the local populace will look upon you more kindly as rulers if there is minimal bloodshed…”
Maybe he could both siege the city and ransom the nobles? Maybe. Although that would present complications of its own, not to mention cause him to lose out on whatever additional spoils the baron may offer. Though they'd take all he owned by force regardless.
“...Of course, such an approach would also signal to other nobility and leaders that you can be bargained with. This will surely pave the way for less resistance down the line…”
Quintus let out a small sigh. If the old fox was here, he was certain that the man would have decisively identified and chosen the best option in an instant. He was a Legionnaire and a fighter, not some politician. Sure, he knew battlefield tactics, but this? It might have farther-reaching implications than this battle. He didn't feel qualified to make the decision.
He considered waiting for Tiberius to let him give the orders. But no. This battlefield and these men were his responsibility. Putting off a choice like this wouldn't just cast doubt on his ability to operate independently—it would make him a spineless coward as well.
Quintus spat off into the dirt next to him before taking a swig of the barley wine in his cup. It was an acrid brew that felt like it could strip the paint off of a wall. But it was what they had, so he wasn't complaining.
“...What are your thoughts on the matter?”
Quintus directed a baleful glare at the bard. This entire time, the man hadn't ceased his prattling once. It was as though he was simply enamored with the sound of his own voice.
Then again, maybe that was the case. It took a certain kind of narcissist to become a performer, after all.
“Bard.” Quintus said simply.
“Yes?” He perked up, eagerly anticipating Quintus's response.
“Shut up.”
The bard stilled, then let out a long sigh. “As you wish.”
The two continued to sit in blissful silence for a few minutes longer, the distant sounds of Legionnaires at work the only backdrop to Quintus’s thoughts. That was, of course, until the bard pulled out his lute.
Quintus’s eye twitched. Evidently, his order for silence hadn't been quite clear enough. But before he could open his mouth to clarify, the man began to strum softly. Quintus found himself listening despite himself as the bard gently sang a melancholic tune.
Ten years have flown on Vulcan’s breath,
Since I was bound to a soldier’s death.
A noble slain, the forum cried—
They swore I stood there, sword at side.
She walks these hall with midnight’s grace,
With veil of black o’er moonlit face.
None know the name she dares not tell,
She mourns where my pale ashes dwell.
***
“Hail, Legatus!”
The Legionnaires responsible for manning the walls called out in greeting as Tiberius approached with his men. He simply raised a hand in acknowledgement. Despite being emperor, he saw no reason to insist on some kind of grand ceremony every time he returned. Too much of a hassle and an interruption.
The return trip had proved slower than the one toward the ambush, and not just because of the prisoners. Still faster than a normal march by many times, but nothing like the blistering pace they'd set to meet the incoming army. It was one of the downsides of [Warpath]. Still, Tiberius figured they would make up the time once they set out once more.
“See to it that the men rest and rotate out. Prepare the siege weaponry and fresh cohorts to move at first light tomorrow.” Tiberius ordered the centurions as he turned toward Habersville. His own rest could wait. First, there were other matters for him to attend to.
He strode quickly yet purposefully through the streets of the town as he headed for its center. A contingent of guards and aides surrounded him as he moved, their heads on constant swivels. The assassination attempt had shamed the men and put them on high alert for other such dangers—even here.
It only took a few minutes for the Legatus to reach his destination. Placing his palm flat against the glassy surface of the class stone, he watched the dance of golden light course up his arm and coalesce into words before his eyes.
Information:
Name: Tiberius Rufius Maro
Age: 54 (LIV)
Class: Legionnaire – Legatus (Legendary)
Level: 3 (III)
Experience: 421,183 / 1,800,000 (C̅D̅X̅X̅MCLXXXIII / M̅D̅C̅C̅C̅)
Stats:
Strength: 11 (XI)
Dexterity: 10 (X)
Constitution: 12 (XII)
Charisma: 18 (XVIII)
Wisdom: 13 (XIII)
Intelligence: 13 (XIII)
Free Points: 4 (IV)
Titles:
Born to Rule
Born to Conquer
Bonds of Brotherhood
Conqueror of Towns
Roman Emperor
Bane of Cats (I)
Bane of Spiders (II)
Bane of Ghouls (IV)
Boss Slayer (I)
Craftsman (II)
Blood on Your Hands (II)
Warforged (I)
Skills:
[Logistics] (Uncommon) - Lvl 41 (Individual)
[Swordsmastery] (Rare) - Lvl 2 (Individual)
[Rallying Cry] (Uncommon) - Lvl 11 (Individual)
[Keen Eye] (Uncommon) - Lvl 22 (Individual)
[Paths of Victory] (Rare) - Lvl 4 (Individual)
[Warpath] (Rare) - Lvl 4 (Legion)
[Coordinated Bulwark] (Rare) - Lvl 2 (Legion)
[Military Leadership] (Uncommon) - Lvl 43 (Officer)
[Oration] (Uncommon) - Lvl 35 (Legatus)
[Commanding Presence] (Uncommon) - Lvl 41 (Legatus)
He was pleased with the results. They were still some ways from the next level, of course, but not as far as he might have feared. As intimidatingly large as the amount of required experience continued to grow, he had no doubts that they would find themselves able to meet it before long.
He also had a new title—[Warforged].
[Warforged (I): Emerge victorious against an enemy nation’s army. +5% to constitution when fighting forces from a nation you have declared war on.]
The fact that winning a battle earned him a title was a pleasant surprise. It even seemed to be a useful one. Anything that improved his men’s survivability was a worthy reward indeed. And judging by the number next to its name, this was one of those titles that could be leveled as well. It made Tiberius look forward to how high that number would climb over the coming months.
One thing that did interest him was the amount of experience they had gained from this conflict. To be perfectly honest, Tiberius hadn’t expected to level again so quickly. It had taken a quite frankly unreasonable number of ghouls to reach level two. Compared to that, the force they’d just taken on was only a fraction of the size. They hadn’t even killed all of the men they’d faced.
Maybe it was due to the adventurers. They were quite high level, after all. Or maybe there was something else at play.
He hummed in thought and set the matter aside. Something to have Gaius investigate, perhaps. For now, there was something else on his mind—skills.
A quick review of his own skills revealed acceptable progress in most of them. He was even offered a rare evolution for his [Oration] in the form of [Inspiring Oration]. One that he obviously took, of course.
[Congratulations! You have assigned the skill [Inspiring Oration] (Rare) - Lvl 0.]
Finally, he went over his stats. Just as last time, the level had granted him one point to every available stat, as well as four to distribute as he pleased. And just like last time, he decided to put two into charisma and one each into wisdom and intelligence.
But before he finalized the choice, Tiberius hesitated. Investing into his mental stats was one of the best things he could do as a leader. But there was something more important than even that. Not dying.
Memories of the assassination attempt flashed through his mind. He had come all too close to finding out if he was bound for Elysium or Tartarus. And while he was certain that his men would take extra precautions to prevent a repeat of that incident, who was to say they'd be successful?
After a moment’s thought, Tiberius shifted one of his free points from charisma to constitution. Would that really change anything? Maybe not. But maybe it would just prove to be the difference between life and death if he was caught off-guard again.
As he confirmed the changes, he instantly felt their effects. His mind felt sharper, his memories coming more quickly and clearly than they had in ages. He felt like he was in his thirties again—maybe even his late twenties.
That wasn't all. Looking at his reflection in the glossy surface of the class stone, even his face looked younger. The craggy wrinkles that characterized his stern expression were beginning to disappear, though that fact thankfully didn't lessen the severity of his face. Even his hair appeared a bit thicker, even if its grey remained.
It was enough to make him wonder about the mage that had been part of that adventuring party. She'd looked like no more than a girl. But if stats and levels could accomplish something like this, then perhaps he'd been mistaken.
It didn't matter now. What did matter were the implications for himself. There were so many things he'd simply never found time for in his younger years, things that no longer seemed out of his reach. Perhaps his newfound youth would allow him to pursue them once more.
In between his other duties, of course. There were still so many lands to conquer.
Satisfied, Tiberius stepped away from the stone. This wasn't the only reason why they'd come back to Habersville. He'd best get moving if he didn't want to keep Quintus waiting.
He headed back to camp. Already a line had begun to form behind the Legatus as other Legionnaires assembled to assign their own stat points and check their skills. Centurions barked orders to keep everyone organized and moving.
Given how fruitful their last combat had been for him, he expected many of his men would also be pleasantly surprised. Maybe he'd even see some new rare or even epic skills in the next report.
As he neared the camp, Tiberius veered off toward the practice field nearest the forest. His destination was obvious—the massive line of wheeled wooden constructs that lay to one side, fresh sawdust still visible on some. The siege engines.
When he had left, many of them were still under construction. But now? He looked forward to seeing what surprises his Legion had in store for the unsuspecting city.
Comments
Etez
Thx for the chapter :D
Beeees!
Maybe just a little fighting, as a treat
