For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 55: Justice is Served

Chapter 55: Justice is Served

Marcus understood now what Servius had said—that Rudolf had been the lucky one. Truly, death had been a much kinder fate for the [Ranger].

They left the temple to find the rest of the Legion already sweeping over the newly freed town like a hungry tide. But this was unlike the first time they'd captured it. No, this time, the Legionnaires were far less kind.

The townsfolk were fine, for the most part. Only those who got in the soldiers' way or refused to comply suffered any consequences—though it only took a couple of stubborn rebel sympathizers getting beaten to send people scurrying back to their houses. In just under an hour, the men had finished rooting out the last of the guards and their accomplice priests. The mayor was also rounded up, along with a few of his aides who were suspected of being complicit in the rebellion.

Together, they were all dragged before Gaius to be judged. The young officer was still in charge until Tiberius's return and, as such, acted as a magistrate. From what Marcus had been able to gather, normal Roman justice was done by a judge and a jury of locals who determined guilt. This, however, more closely resembled the justice system he was used to—a single man parsing out right and wrong from the testimonies of others, then passing judgment as he saw fit. Understandable, given both the severity of the situation and how the rebellion was primarily a military matter.

Even then, it was the quickest trial he had ever been witness to. It was not as though there was any question of guilt. Everyone had seen the massive dome in the sky and the guards roaming about once it had gone up. Even the mayor didn't have a leg to stand on when he claimed ignorance—not with Eleonora's report and the words of other disgruntled locals.

The large, blubbering man had begged for mercy alongside some of the other rebels. Most remained silent out of fear. Some, however, appeared defiant even in the face of judgement—Jack being one of the latter. But Gaius had not given it to them.

"A wise man once spoke about the dangers of treason," Gaius began, looking down at the bound prisoners as he paced. "He said that a nation can survive fools and ambitious men, for they at least have their uses. It can survive an enemy at the gates, for at least his intentions are known. But it cannot survive a threat from within.

"The threat posed by a traitor is different. It is more difficult to defend against, as he moves freely and whispers sly words anywhere from the darkest of alleys to the highest of offices. Yet the sweetness of his words is the sweetness of rotting flesh—a disease that will eat away at our very civilization if left untreated."

Gaius stopped, his gaze cold. "When treason is discovered, it must be excised like the rot it is. Treason is the worst crime a citizen or civilian of Rome may commit and carries with it appropriate punishment."

The way Gaius said "appropriate punishment" raised the hairs on the back of Marcus's neck. That alone was enough to make him dread what was to come. Yet it had still not prepared him for the reality of it.

Marcus stared at the clearing before him. In the middle of it stood a collection of newly erected wooden t-shapes. And upon those were the rest of the rebels.

He found himself transfixed by the sight, unable to look away. He had seen his fair share of executions in his time at court—beheadings and hangings mostly, but others as well. The king was awfully fond of the practice and rarely wanted for victims. But this … this was a level of brutality that even the petty king didn't indulge in.

And Marcus surely hoped that he never would. Hopefully he would never learn of such a manner of execution. Not when it could mean popularizing it.

Eventually, Marcus managed to tear his eyes away from the macabre spectacle. The crowd of onlookers was much thinner than it had been. Initially, it had contained Romans and townsfolk both, the latter because the spectacle of a public execution had drawn most everyone out of their homes to watch. However, most had not managed to stay in attendance for the entire process.

Shaking himself, Marcus turned and looked down. Beside him knelt Eleonora, the young [Healer] doubled over and heaving after having emptied her stomach into the dirt. He offered her a hand.

"We should go."

Her head craned up to look at him. Slowly, she reached up to grab his hand and he helped her to her feet. Carefully, they avoided her former lunch as they turned and walked back toward Habersville.

They walked on in silence for a long while, each alone with their thoughts. Once they'd left the remaining crowd behind did Eleonora speak.

"That was fucking brutal."

Marcus nodded in agreement. "Indeed. While I have certainly seen many better ways to die… I can't imagine many worse ones."

It made him rather glad that Myra hadn't seen. At least, he hadn't managed to spot her among the crowd of onlookers. She likely hadn't wanted to see har father's fate.

Marcus couldn't help but wince. He'd failed her. For all he'd promised to try and soften the consequences for the man, there was nothing he could do. Even the barest suggestion of mercy, or even a quick beheading, had been met with staunch refusal. This appeared to be one area where even the normally agreeable Gaius would not budge in the slightest.

Yet he still felt as though he'd failed.

Marcus shook his head ruefully, pushing the thoughts away to check on Eleonora. The girl was still rather pale—understandable, since she'd just watched her former party leader die. Even if he had been a fool, he'd also been her friend. She'd likely need a while to process things.

Marcus patted Eleonora on her back. "Follow me. I know a place where we should still be able to get a drink—and given the day we've had, I'd suppose we both could use one."

The girl nodded numbly as they made their way toward his favorite local drinking establishment, the Tipsy Dryad. It was one of the few places in town where one could still find alcohol—provided one wasn't particularly picky. The admittedly sleazy proprietor of the place was ostensibly a [Barkeep], but given how quickly he'd managed to produce a rather impressive amount of strong liquor… well, Marcus had his suspicions. Either the man was hiding his real class or he had specialized his skills in a less conventional direction.

Stepping into the bar, Marcus found they weren't the only ones who'd needed a drink. The entire establishment was packed to the gills with townsfolk. The air was filled with the acrid scent of the stiff liquor that many of the townsfolk had grown quickly fond of. Despite that, the usual buzz of conversation seemed subdued.

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They snatched a table as another group of patrons left and Marcus ordered a couple of drinks. Once they arrived, he pushed one of the small cups over to Eleonora. The girl downed it without hesitation, coughing slightly, then reached over and grabbed Marcus's cup as well. He sighed as she began sipping on it, then waved down the waitress to order another.

"I was right," Eleanora said, her eyes downcast. "About Jack."

"Hmmm?"

"I told him he was going to get us all killed." She sipped her drink, wincing at the taste. "I hate being right sometimes."

Marcus nodded in understanding, remaining silent. After a moment, she continued.

"...I'm afraid of them," Eleonora admitted. "I mean, I was before, but now…? And I'm supposed to work with them, work under them. And… I don't think I can get away."

Marcus heard a faint rattle. He saw that her hands were trembling around her cup, vibrating it against the wooden table. He could understand where she was coming from. He, too, was bound to the Legion—even more tightly than she was, even if no one knew.

He almost felt a bond of camaraderie with the young [Healer] over the fact. They had both made promises to the Legion, and everything he knew about them said that betraying those promises would be… ill-advised. Even if they did flee, being caught would be disastrous. Today's events just reinforced that.

That wasn't the only thing troubling him, however. He'd fled from trouble plenty of times before. It was how he'd ended up in Habersvile in the first place. But this… well, he suspected that fleeing the Legion might be even more difficult than he'd initially suspected.

It wasn't just the fact that they'd all reached level two, and simultaneously by the looks of things—although that little detail was more than enough to send Marcus reeling. That was a whole can of worms that he'd have to open when he next spoke to Tiberius. But the fact that it wasn't even at the top of his list spoke volumes.

The fight at the temple had left Marcus with questions. When the fighting began, Servius had offered up a prayer to Mars, one of the Roman gods. That in itself was nothing strange. The practice was common even among people in this world.

No, the strange part was that the prayer had been answered.

Up until now, Marcus had assumed that the Legion's gods were effectively fictional. Even if they had been real in their world, they certainly weren't in this one. Yet the answering of the centurion's prayer flew in the face of that presumption. Even more stunning was the power with which the prayer was answered—it had directly contested a working of the god of architecture. That was no small feat. Though Arashim was not one of the major gods, he was widely worshiped.

As for how this had happened… Marcus wasn't sure. But one thing was certain—gods couldn't just be created out of thin air. They weren't some arbitrary flight of fancy that people just decided to believe in randomly. That was a fact—one that had been tested more than once by a mad mage or two. The gods were the gods, recognized by the System for their divinity. However they had come to be, they were here now. And they were eternal.

And yet, despite all of that, Servius's prayer was answered.

There were a few possibilities, of course, the first being that the man had actually been praying to one of the real gods under a different name—though Marcus didn't know of any that even would permit such a practice. The idea of the god being an unknown or lost one was similarly absurd, but theoretically possible.

Those were the most likely possibilities. There was also the other, more frightening one—that the Legion, a group of mortal men, had somehow brought a god with them across time and space into this world. Even more, they'd managed to do so without perishing from the effort. If that were the case… well, Marcus had underestimated the threat and capabilities of Legion even more than he'd realized.

"...I agree," he eventually replied. "I expect that running away would not prove fruitful, especially now. But then again, I don't think doing so would be in our best interests. Or anyone else's, for that matter."

"What do you mean?" Eleanora asked, her brow furrowing. "Are you saying you want to stay with these… these psychos? After all that?"

"I am." Marcus sipped his drink, wrinkling his nose as the fumes alone threatened to burn off his nose hairs. "And lets not be unreasonable here. Though I won't say the rebels had it coming, the Legion punishing them is perfectly understandable. It also doesn't change the fact that they've been quite fair up to this point."

Eleonora made a face. It was obvious she didn't entirely agree, but was willing to hear him out. "Then… what do you think we should do? Do you have a plan?"

The bard waggled a hand back and forth. "Saying that it's a plan might be a bit of a generous overstatement. However… I do believe I have some sort of direction in mind. One that we can orient ourselves toward without guilt."

He set his drink down and steepled his fingers, pausing theatrically. He couldn't help but inject a bit of showmanship into his pitch, even now. "...The strength and ruthlessness of the Legion has become abundantly clear to us. We well understand the threat they pose. However, to others… well, we've seen time and time again how simple it is to underestimate an army of such low-leveled soldiers.

"Now, it's abundantly clear what the Legion wants—to conquer and expand their empire. Something that will require them to take far more towns and cities than just Habersville. And what do you think will happen when they do?"

Understanding dawned on Eleonora's face. "...The same thing that happened here?"

Marcus nodded. "Indeed. The Legion will use demonstrations to enforce their rule when necessary. And unless people understand what they're capable of, it will be necessary. Over and over again, we'll see the same cycle of rebellion and punishment. Especially as the defending forces and populace becomes stronger and more certain that they can handle the threat. Maybe they'll be right. But until they are…"

Marcus trailed off, his meaning clear. The [Healer] gulped. "But what does that have to do with us?"

He smiled. "Well. I think that we have an opportunity here. A duty, you might say. Not just to the Legion, but to the rest of the world. Not in the sense of being great big heroes or anything like that—I tend to leave those things for stories. But perhaps, if we were to adequately convey the danger of the Legion to those they wish to conquer… well, we could certainly save quite a few lives."

"You want us to work against them?!" Eleonora's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "We were just talking about how that's a stupid idea! The last thing I want to be accused of is treason!"

"It wouldn't be treason," Marcus pointed out. "Quite the opposite. We'd be paving the way for the Legion's conquests. We'd be easing not just their path, but that of their future subjects. Think of it as diplomacy, in a way, where we work to ensure as little bloodshed as possible for both sides. It's a win-win."

"You're assuming that they can't be stopped," Eleonora muttered. "They can be, can't they? No way they could stand up to Novara's army… right?"

The bard just shrugged. He saw Eleonora shudder at his non-answer.

He thought about the title he'd earned upon summoning the Legion—[Harbinger of Rome]. At first, he'd seen it as little more than flavor text, a marker of what he had done. But now? Perhaps it was more fitting than he'd anticipated.

Suddenly, the epic he'd been composing took on a whole new purpose. This was no longer just a story about a fascinating group of summoned soldiers. No, now it was a warning. A tale of caution to all those who stood in the Legion's way. A legend in the making—one that hopefully wasn't too fantastical to be believed.

Eleonora met Marcus's eyes. "Do you really think we can do it? Make a difference, I mean? I'm just a low-level healer. I'm nobody."

Marcus smiled meaningfully. "By now, you should know better than to judge anyone by level. But… yes. I think we can."

The girl fell silent, then downed the last of her drink. Marcus did the same. Their lots were cast, for better or for worse. Now he just needed to figure out a path forward.