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

B2 Chapter 39: Ashes of a Noble Heart

Marcus approached Tiberius's tent only to be greeted with the sight of a snarling and writhing baroness being hauled off. Quite an auspicious start to the evening, if did say so himself. Especially when the woman spotted him and shot him a glare meant to kill.

He shook his head in dismay. Evidently, his efforts to calm the woman had fallen on deaf ears. It was no surprise, of course. Charisma and charisma-based skills weren't mind control. They oftentimes simply helped to open one up to different perspectives and ideas. Ones that they may have been opposed to otherwise.

Of course, even his most convincing speech bolstered by [Silver Tongue] couldn't make someone do something totally against their best interests. Especially not a woman who also had dumped untold numbers into her charisma. But he had hoped that she would see how dangerous resistance might be. Still, he hadn't given up yet.

Marcus pushed aside the tent flap with a bit of apprehension. Inside, Tiberius sat before a simple square table, the granite wall of his face somehow managing to look even more stony than usual. From the way that he was rubbing his forehead, he couldn't help but think that he actually looked tired.

He stepped toward the table and studied the old soldier as Tiberius studied him in turn. A few other Legionnaires filled the tent, mostly aides and what Marcus assumed to be guards. The latter was a new addition. He couldn't remember the Legatus keeping men around him for protection before.

After half a minute of watching each other, Tiberius sighed, gesturing to one of the stools before him. Marcus smiled. He stepped to the side, shifting the stool across from Tiberius until he could sit on the left side of the table. It was a slightly less formal position than directly across from the man. The Legatus simply snorted.

"You wanted to see me, Emperor?"

Tiberius waved him off. "Call me Legatus. We are on a campaign. While Emperor is an accurate title, it is a political one that is more fitting for ruling settlements and the like. The Legion serves the empire always, and you can't have an empire without an Emperor."

Marcus felt there was more to his explanation than that, but didn't press the issue. Not right now. Though he didn't mind using either title.

Honestly, he'd come to respect the old man quite a bit. At first he'd seemed like an arrogant fool to declare himself emperor of a new world after conquering one backwater town. But now? He'd seen the man work. And frankly, Marcus was impressed. Though he knew little about military tactics and the like, results didn't lie.

Even better, the Legatus seemed to share some small part of his own sentiment. Even though the man remained difficult to read, even with [Critical Reception], Marcus had spent enough time studying his mannerisms to tell. Though Tiberius still didn't have a high level of respect for Marcus, his disposition had at least improved.

Perhaps Gaius had told him about the events in the amphitheater. His actions had certainly seemed to endear him to the other men, at least. It was a nice little consolation for having to swim in kraken viscera.

"As you wish," Marcus nodded. "Then… what can I do for you, Legatus Tiberius?"

Tiberius remained silent for a few moments, steepling his hands in front of him. He continued to study Marcus closely as he spoke. "It seems that the baroness is being quite uncooperative. Tell me, is ransoming nobility captured during battle an uncommon occurrence here?"

Uncooperative… well, that was certainly one way to put it. Though Marcus himself might have said "actively antagonistic" or "vengeful beyond belief."

Marcus shook his head. "It is not uncommon. Of course, those being ransomed are seldom pleased about the matter, but that is certainly not among her largest concerns at the moment."

"I see. What about marriage among the nobility? Is it not a matter of securing political alliances and favors?"

"It… usually is, yes." Marcus began slowly. "In most cases. However…"

He gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out how to word his explanation. He sighed, let out a long breath, and came at it from a slightly oblique angle.

"In the capital, there's a rather famous poem written by… well, that's not important." He couldn't help the small smile that crept across his face. "It goes something like this:

A baron bold of modest name,

Did win fair Redcliffe's daughter's flame.

Through scorn of court and whispered spite,

Their troth endured both crown and rite.

No golden match her heart could sway,

She gave her hand, and went her way."

Macus didn't go through the whole poem, as he didn't think that Tiberius had the patience for it. But the single verse was evidently enough to get his point across.

Tiberius muttered to himself in a tone that Marcus likely wasn't supposed to hear. "Gods damn it."

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath of frustration. "So… what you're saying is that this baron was one half of the country's favorite star-struck lovers, and we've just killed him? Is that right?"

Marcus blinked. From the man's reaction, he not only understood what Marcus had been trying to convey, he also seemed to instantly grasp the implications of the baron's death and how it would affect the Legion's reputation among the wider populace.

He honestly hadn't expected that level of insight from the man. Tiberius was no fool, but this was a matter of politics, not of battle. Perhaps he was still underestimating the old Legionnaire even now.

"I'm afraid so." Marcus confirmed.

The Legatus lowered his hand, his expression once more becoming hard and implacable. "It is of no consequence. Our campaign has not been aimed toward winning hearts and minds—not at this stage." Tiberius shook his head. "Will this development affect our ability to negotiate with the duke?"

Marcus shook his head. "Duke Mark is a very reasonable man. Though he did approve of the match, he will not allow the death of his son-in-law to affect his decisions. Not when his daughter's safety is involved. Although, it may interest you to know that the poem I mentioned is also quite popular amongst the common folk. Housewives and young maidens always have a soft spot for such tales of romance between disparate stations."

Tiberius nodded. "Understandable. He signed his death warrant when he attempted to attack the Legion. But he would have been a valuable asset to ensure the public's compliance." The man fixed Marcus with an intense gaze. "Did you inform Quintus of this information prior to the assault?"

"I… did not." Marcus confessed. "I do apologize. But honestly, I did not believe it to be relevant. It is exceedingly rare for nobility to perish in conflicts such as this. The possibility didn't even enter my mind."

Tiberius raised an eyebrow at that. "Do you mean to say that the nobility does not fight in their battles?"

"No, that's been known to happen." Marcus said. "But usually the aim is to capture, not kill. When a noble does die, it's usually during a duel, not on the battlefield. And duels are usually mutually agreed upon. When it comes to proper war, well, usually it's third sons of unlanded gentry that are leading the troops."

Tiberius nodded at the explanation. "I see. Tell me more about the practices of the court and nobility in this land. I suspect such knowledge will be useful very soon."

Marcus was happy to oblige. The conversation continued on for quite some time. Honestly, the only thing missing, he thought, was a nice glass of whiskey.

***

A loud crack snapped Marcus out of his slumber. He shot up out of his bedroll only to wince in discomfort. All of his running and [Running] the day before was coming back to bite him. He felt sore, more than he had in ages.

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He hauled himself out of bed, albeit a bit more gingerly than before. He'd managed to bribe his way into one of the contubernium's tents the night before, but now he noted that every bedroll around him was empty.

He pushed his way out of the tent and into the early morning chill. The sun had yet to even peek over the horizon, its approach only heralded by a soft lightening of the night sky.

Another crack sounded. Marcus's head whipped around just in time to see a stone sail high into the air toward Hausten's walls. It exploded as it neared the top of the fortifications, stone shards peppering the half-asleep defenders below.

More and more stones sailed through the air as the rest of the siege engines joined in. Soon, the city was besieged with to a deadly rain of full-sized boulders and jagged bits of rock alike.

Marcus began to hurry through the camp. His was not the only empty tent, it seemed. Most of the Legion were already up and about as they formed up to assault the city.

Suddenly, the hail of projectiles ceased. For a brief moment, the battlefield fell deafeningly silent as the last stone struck its mark. For a blissful moment, Marcus thought it was over.

Then one more catapult activated. It hurled the last of the eighteen dead men over the wall—the one wearing finer clothing than any of the others. The baron himself.

The second it landed, the siege towers began moving forward as the assault truly began.

Marcus watched for a long moment before turning away. He didn't need to see the attack itself. He'd seen enough battle up-close as of late. Besides, it wasn't like he'd be using many of these kinds of details in his epic. Maybe some of the firsthand accounts from the soldiers themselves, but this…

He conjured a whole plethora of excuses as he headed away from the battlefield. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. How the Legion achieved victory was something that others might find more interesting. However, he found that he didn't quite have the stomach for it today. Perhaps he could make himself useful elsewhere… like talking to the baroness.

***

Marcus found Baroness Mariella von Latimore sitting before one of the small cookfires, her daughter cradled in her lap. Despite her straight back, it was clear that she was not doing well. Her hair clearly hadn't been brushed since her capture, and she wore the same travel dress that she had before, though it now bore quite a few more rumples and wrinkles. Unsurprising, given her current situation. Perhaps she simply did not have the luxuries of a hairbrush or clean clothes.

Her distant gaze seemed as though it were focused on some unseen point beyond the flames, the red puffiness of her eyes still clear to see. The little girl curled up against her was pressing her face into the baroness's neck as though she were asleep. Nearby, the four guards watching them stood back at a respectful distance as they kept a close eye on their charges.

It was a welcome change from her being gagged and bound. Perhaps Tiberius was showing a bit more leniency than Quintus.

The woman didn't look up as Marcus approached, simply studying the flames in silence. He stopped for a moment to study her as well. There was something hauntingly beautiful about this young woman and her daughter, even in their grief. The way she held herself called to mind a woman watching a funeral pyre of old, watching her beloved being sent off to meet the gods. A better fate than what had actually befallen the baron, to be sure.

His imagination began to run wild with the poetry of the moment. He'd even begun to compose the beginnings of a song in his head before catching himself. Now was not the time for that. Instead, he fixed the scene in his mind. Perhaps it would serve as a good vignette during his epic in the making, a juxtaposition between the Legion's conquest and its consequences. Its triumphs and the tragedies left in its wake.

Marcus stepped a little closer, clearing his throat. The baroness seemed to rouse from her daze and looked up with eyes empty of the fire he'd come to associate with her.

It wasn't hard to understand why. Even now, the sounds of Hausten's walls and final lines of defense falling echoed across the camp as the Legion took the city with brutal efficiency.

He glanced at the guards. They stood close, but not so close that they'd be able to hear a low conversation. Especially not if he put up a [Glamour].

He took a seat on the log beside the baroness. She returned her attention to the fire, but otherwise didn't react. The woman continued to ignore him as he sat there. Up close, he saw the little tear streaks running down her daughter's cheeks.

"I have news." Marcus began, speaking softly. "The Legion have sent a messenger to your father. About the ransom."

"That is hardly news." The baroness retorted. Even her voice felt distant and impassive. "You speak of things that were already foregone conclusions."

"If that is what you think, then you are more optimistic than I expected." Marcus chuckled darkly. "I certainly wasn't convinced that they would take my advice."

He really had expected some worse fate to befall the pair—and it very well might have, had he not been around to persuade Quintus of her value. The man seemed to have far less patience for her antics than Tiberius did, at least.

The thought that he'd managed to save these two at least filled him with a bit of pride. Even if he hadn't been able to keep the baron from running himself on the Legion's swords, he certainly could do so for these two. It was something.

Mariella von Latimore didn't seem to share the sentiment. "If that is the case, then it seems you've overstated your influence here. I expected as much. Otherwise, you would have convinced them to spare Klein as well."

Marcus reached out to put a reassuring hand on the baroness's shoulder. "Mariella. I—"

"Don't touch me." The woman snapped. "I am not one of your naive girls to be saved and seduced, bard."

Marcus slowly pulled his hand back, a little affronted that she thought so little of him. Yes, the woman was beautiful, but she'd just lost her husband. To make overtures toward her now would indeed be in poor taste. He had standards. He would wait at least a couple of weeks.

Although he really wasn't interested in her case. Baroness Mariella had a daughter, after all. Women with children were all the more likely to expect commitment from him.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. "Mariella. I am sorry for your loss, truly. I… wish I could have done more." He bit his tongue before pointing out that the baron had been the one to impulsively attack and rush to his death. Blaming the man wouldn't get him anywhere. "But I can't change the past. All I can do now is work to protect you and your daughter. He would want you safe—that's why he did what he did."

"So what? You want me to simply sit here like a good little girl amidst my husband's murderers?" The woman finally met his eyes. A deep resentment filled them. "To play along as they extort my father?

"If that's what keeps you safe, then yes." Marcus replied seriously. "I can swear that you will not be harmed if you just cooperate. Especially under Tiberius's watch. The alternative is to continue antagonizing the Legion and risk their ire."

Marcus shuddered slightly at the thought. He doubted they would kill the baroness at this point. Still, with how creative they seemed to be in both warfare and their execution methods, he couldn't help but think they might have a few methods of retribution fitting for a situation like this.

"That's not the only alternative." The baroness leveled a look at him, her voice lowering further.

The bard discreetly glanced toward the guards. They had begun talking amongst themselves, paying little mind to the pair's conversation. That was good. He didn't want even the slightest suggestion that they were talking about this to leak out.

"This is our best chance." The baroness insisted. "They're distracted with the assault, and the camp has never been more empty. Even if they discover us, we'll have a head start."

The sounds of catapults and trebuchets firing in the distance seemed to intensify as though to emphasize her words. A sound like so many thunderbolts exploded across the camp, followed shortly after by explosions and what sounded like an avalanche.

"As I said… it won't work. There's too many of them around. Even if you did somehow manage to get out of camp, they certainly have enough men to comb over the entire barony and beyond to search for you."

All that was true, of course. But it wasn't even the half of why Marcus refused to help her escape. Besides completely destroying all the credibility and rapport with the Legion that he'd so carefully built, there was also the question of what came next. Where would they go from there?

The obvious choice was the duke's estate. They'd be taken in readily and protected better than anywhere else. Marcus would surely even be rewarded for his assistance…

…And then, in a few days or weeks or months, the Legion would be at their doorstep.

It wasn't even that Marcus believed they'd go to such lengths to retrieve the baroness. He just didn't expect their conquest to stop anytime soon. And if that was the case, then the duke would certainly find himself under siege before long. And unless he was able to call his troops back from the western front, his territory would fall just like the baron's… Only now, they would have no use for the baroness.

Some might say he was fatalistic, that he was catastrophizing and predicting a doom that would never come. After all, how could such a low-leveled army hope to trample through Novara unopposed? Surely the king would do something. But then, he was a bit more familiar with the man's disposition than most. And they hadn't seen what he had.

At least if the ransom went through, then Marcus might be able to speak to the duke. He had some ideas already of how to persuade the man of a more peaceful solution to the looming conflict. Besides, he'd been on the run too long already. He was quite enjoying the level of freedom he had around the Legion and their territory.

The baroness looked away. "You are a coward, Bard Marcus. A coward and a fool to live under the heel of these savages."

He shrugged. "You are free to think that. However, know that I am doing the best that I can—not only for you, but for the citizens of Novara. But alas, I am one man. I must be content with what meager influence I am able to wield at times.

"If you do attempt to escape… There will be little I can do once they find you." Marcus admitted. "I can't guarantee that they'll decide that you're still worth ransoming off, either."

The baroness glared at him. "Failure is not a given."

"No, but it is all too likely. And frankly, I don't see why you're so eager to make your daughter an orphan."

Marcus looked meaningfully at the little girl as he felt her mother's glare burn into him. It was a bit of a low blow, but necessary. The woman was going to do something incredibly dangerous if he didn't remind her of everything she had to lose.

"Look…" Marcus sighed, allowing his voice to return to a more conversational volume. "It's just for a few weeks, a month at the most. Just sit tight and try not to actively antagonize your captors. I'll see about getting you better accommodations, as well as some books and toys for her." Marcus indicated the young girl with his chin. "It may not seem like much, but it's what I can do.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save your husband. But I can help the two of you. But only if you let me."

The woman remained silent, staring into the cookfire once more. Marcus saw their flickering flames reflected in her deep blue eyes, embers of light that seemed to burn deeper within.