B2 Chapter 37: A Feast for the Crows

The clean-up operations had dragged on a little longer than expected. The six armored warriors were no match for the Legion and their numbers. However, the hail of arrows and seemingly magical attacks forced them to act with a bit more caution. They had to be extra diligent to always work under the cover of their shields as they dragged the bodies, horses, and equipment out of range.

As Quintus took stock of their own situation, he couldn't help but be a little pleased. While several men had been injured, none of the injuries were particularly dire. Nothing that their healers couldn’t patch up over the course of a few days.

They had also taken the opportunity to seize the wagons stranded outside the city. Unfortunately, many of them had taken the opportunity to flee inside during the brief period where the portcullis had been open. From the looks of it, many of the now-missing wagons were those of wealthier merchants or traders in finer goods—something that Quintus suspected was no coincidence.

He did regret that his caution had caused them to miss out on seizing all of the wagons when they could. But testing the defensive capabilities of the guards on the wall had seemed needlessly risky, especially when Tiberius likely wouldn’t be long in coming. Oh, well. It wasn’t as though those merchants were truly escaping. After all, they’d still be in the city when it was taken.

For now, Quintus contented himself with what they had recovered—several wagons full of radishes and potatoes, as well as six horses and a number of wagons. They also received the consolation prize of two oxen and a single old, nearly-starved cow.

A few hours later, he stood looking over the battlefield from a nearby hill. The Legionnaires milled about below as they worked on fortifications, assembled for scouting missions, or patrolled the perimeter of the city. More tended to the plethora of camp duties that needed doing or took a moment to rest by a cookfire.

Having the high ground was a no-brainer in battle. It provided both a superior defensive position as well as a better visual of the surrounding area, allowing for more effective planning and execution of strategies.

Yet they weren't in battle at the moment. Quintus simply felt the desire to survey the status of things from afar. To have a top-down view of their operations as the men moved.

It took him a moment to realize why this sat so strangely with him. But as he considered his own posture—standing straight with his shoulders back and his hands clasped behind him—it clicked. This was the exact pose he’d seen Tiberius adopt so many times, standing deep in contemplation atop a nearby hill or tall building or veranda.

It was a bit of an epiphany for the Primus Pilus. Quintus had seen his fair share of responsibility and being in charge, of course. But this was different. This siege was one of the largest operations he’d ever been personally in charge of.

Perhaps that was why he found it so satisfying to watch everything. Everything below was part of his responsibility, something that he had charged the men to do and would reflect on him directly, for better or for worse.

It was… a new level of stress. But not an entirely unwelcome one.

Quintus turned to look toward the front of the city. A group of Legionnaires were setting the last of the armored warriors up on a pike. The now-disarmed corpses dangled in an arc before the front gate on full display to weaken the morale of the enemy. Now, anyone looking toward the Legion’s camp would be reminded of their defeated champions and leaders.

He picked out one particular figure, placed prominently in the center of the formation. Baron von Latimore. Needless to say, the baroness was not happy about the situation. Not that Quintus particularly cared about that. It mattered little to him if the woman glared at him and his men with murderous intent through tear-blurred eyes. Although he was almost impressed that she hadn’t devolved into hysterics over her husband’s death. He’d really expected a more explosive reaction than this cold anger.

Either way, he wouldn’t hold it against her. They did need her to remain in one piece if they were to ransom her to the duke.

His attention flicked to the tent where the woman and her daughter were being held. A flash of purple caught his eye as a man emerged from the flap and began striding away. The bard, Marcus.

Quintus’s eyes narrowed. The bard had requested permission to speak to the woman, apparently in an attempt to secure her cooperation or at least keep her from doing anything stupid. Quintus had reluctantly granted the request, though he obviously had reservations.

Over the past couple of days, the man had spoken to her about four times. Quintus had made sure to set men in or around the tent to report exactly what was said during these conversations, fully expecting some sort of betrayal or offer of aid to the woman. But so far, Marcus had only comforted her and even worked to dig for information. He hadn’t done anything to even suggest escape, so far as he could tell.

Quintus shook his head. He just couldn’t get a proper read on that man. Until the centurion could figure out what he was after, the man’s motives were still highly suspicious. But it seemed as though he meant no harm. For now.

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As he looked out over the landscape, Quintus nodded in approval. Things really were going quite well. In fact, the only real complaint he had was that they’d killed the horses upon which the baron and his allies rode.

It was practically unavoidable. The men had worn armor too thick to pierce with projectiles, and so targeting the horses was the reasonable alternative. But it still stung. The six they’d gained from the farmers were old nags compared to the young, powerful, and well-trained mounts that had fallen or escaped back into the city. They could have been captured and utilized by the Legion or even bred.

Quintus couldn’t help but sigh in resignation. His dreams of a full cohort of cavalry would remain that for now. But he supposed they couldn’t have it all. Not yet, at least. One way or another, they’d make it happen.

He took one more moment to study the city walls. The dear among the defenders was palpable. They had seen the Legion in action, if only briefly, and it had resulted in what were presumably their strongest remaining fighters being cut down in an instant.

If left alone, that fear would probably fade bit by bit. But Quintus had no plans to let that happen. There were little things he could do to constantly remind them of their defeat. The pikes were just the start.

“Primus Pilus! Your presence is requested at the camp.

Turning, he pushed the city to the back of his mind. They wouldn’t be attacking anytime today, maybe not even tomorrow. But there were other things that required his attention.

***

The long columns of Legionnaires marched down the sorry excuses for roads in this province at a leisurely jog. Behind them the massive wooden siege engines creaked and groaned with every turn of their wheels.

Despite the incessant and honestly grating nature of the noise, it didn't bother Tiberius. He'd tuned it out over the last day and the half, a skill he'd honed during his time as a rank-and-file Legionnaire.

Over the last day and a half, he and the fresh troops he'd rotated in had made good progress. The siege engines had slowed them down, of course, but not nearly as much as expected.

He would have much preferred to construct the things once they arrived at their destination. Such was standard practice for a siege. However, the relative scarcity of trees in this area made such a strategy unfeasible. Hence the comparatively inefficient process of moving the weapons on the march.

It still wasn't as bad as it could have been. Far from it. As slow as the Legionnaires were moving, the siege weapons were still eating up miles far faster than Tiberius had ever seen. Cornelius the engineer had evidently foreseen this problem and urged the teams assigned to each weapon to act accordingly. They had taken skills related to not just combat, but transportation and mobility as well.

Six monstrous siege towers accompanied them, each capable of shelling out six men abreast at various points on a wall. There were wagons full of siege ladders, and the trebuchets, catapults, and ballistae were so numerous that he'd had to confirm the reported numbers to ensure there hadn't been a mistake. Entire centuries were dedicated to moving and operating the weapons.

Was it excessive? Probably. With this much firepower, they could have easily reduced Stonester’s wall to rubble. He suspected the seat of the barony would be no different. Even if the city's defenses were more formidable than any they'd seen so far, they were bringing far more than they'd reasonably need to overcome them.

It was part prudence on Tiberius’s part. But also part curiosity and a desire to see whether “overwhelming force” would truly be as overwhelming as he hoped.

Still, he didn't have high hopes for the city's walls. The pitiful wooden wall around Habersville when they had first taken the town was frankly pathetic, even more so now that he knew what skills and stats could do. His men had built a better wall in half a day, and without even using the advantages of this world. Between that example and Stonester, he really was beginning to lose faith in these people's construction capabilities.

Tiberius had a few theories about this. The first was that the manner in which warfare was conducted here differed so greatly from their own world that they simply hadn't developed many of the innovations the Legion saw as obvious. Possible, but not the most likely. If that were the case, he would have expected to say least see other features take their place rather than keep such a basic wall.

The other idea was that construction classes and skills simply weren't valued. Perhaps the people who took up such professions, if any, simply didn't take or train skills related to making these walls the best they could be. Tiberius was well aware that skills to improve building efficiency and stretch how far materials went existed. Perhaps those were deemed more valuable?

Or perhaps there were those who valued proper fortifications. They simply couldn't be found this far out, where no one could afford their services.

A master blacksmith like Gareth had come to Habersville specifically to escape the hustle and bustle of competition in the capital. If there were more men of his skill level there… perhaps the place would finally prove a greater challenge than anything they'd seen so far.

In the meantime, however, this city's wall would be their best opportunity for testing. Even though they planned to seize the city for themselves, he held no compunctions about demolishing this part of it. They would end up rebuilding any fortifications themselves anyway.

A dark spot appeared on the edge of the distant horizon. Tiberius’s enhanced eyesight allowed him to notice it well before the others. A few minutes later, a scout rushed toward him.

“Sir. We are approaching the city.”

Tiberius nodded. “What is the situation?”

“The Primus Pilus appears to have it surrounded. Our position is well-fortified and set up for an extended siege. He has confirmed that the enemy has spurned his offer to surrender, but they are waiting to mount a full assault.

That was all good news. The Legatus was pleased to hear that Quintus had actually waited. He’d honestly expected to find the city already taken and under Legion control. But the fact that his old friend had shown restraint would allow them to learn much from this encounter—and likely preserve men they would have otherwise lost.

A small bit of relief washed through him. He’d regretted not being more explicit in his orders to the man, but it evidently hadn’t been necessary. As expected of Quintus.

Tiberius and the men continued onward toward the city. Once they arrived, they’d be able to rotate out some of Quintus’s men. Then, the real siege would begin.