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

<pfont-weight: 400">Tiberius came to a halt, prompting the guards accompanying him to do the same. The town continued to bustle around them as the elven envoy stared up at the in-progress statue looming over them. The man working on it was doing an admirable job. It was a rather accurate depiction of Mars and a faithful recreation of similar statues he’d seen back in Rome. The details of its chiseled face were already quite recognizable. Assuming one was familiar with the figure being depicted, of course.

The Legatus made an effort to keep his face impassive as the street bustled with energy all around him. Confusion and a rather generous helping of suspicion roiled within him. Iladrien recognized the god of war. Their god of war. One whose name had, to this point, been met with uncomprehending looks and shrugs, even by their resident bard.

His mind whirled with possible explanations. Tiberius very much doubted that the elf had learned of the god in the little time he was in the city. While the Roman Pantheon was slowly gaining traction and followers in the city, it was a slow thing borne of mild curiosity more than anything else. They certainly didn’t have anyone proselytizing in the streets about them. A glance toward a shrugging Marcus suggested that this wasn’t his doing, either.

There was something about the way Ithilien said it, too. A certain kind of familiarity. As though it wasn’t just the face of the god he recognized, but what he actually represented.

The Legionnaires working on the temple continued their work, not having heard the elf’s question. Before the silence stretched on too long, Tiberius cleared his throat, drawing the elf’s intent stare away from the statue and back toward him.

"You are correct. This is a temple to Mars. Does he hold some significance to you?"

"If you’re asking if I follow Mars…" the elf paused, shaking his head, "Then no, I do not. None of my people do. He is a figure from the distant past, and separate from our forest’s ancient traditions. The only reason I know of him is because deific history is an area of study that I specialize in. But our allies…"

Iladrien’s eyes widened. He took in Tiberius and his men anew, his gaze scrutinizing. After a few moments, he visibly calmed himself. When he spoke, it was in a measured and careful tone.

"You are a follower of Mars, are you not?"

"And your men?"

"We worship many gods," He replied evasively.

"Such as?"

"You have quite an interest in our gods," Tiberius frowned. He wasn’t entirely sure if he liked this line of questioning.

Iladrien spared one more look at the temple, then sighed. He looked Tiberius in the eye. His face held an intensity that surpassed anything seen from the elf so far.

"You are not from here, are you?"

Tiberius remained calm. "As I stated earlier, our home country is a great distance away from here."

"You remain evasive on how great a distance that is, though," Iladrien pointed out. His voice lowered. "Let me rephrase, then. You are not from this world, are you?"

The Legatus tensed. All around him, his guards sensed his unease and shifted subtly, readying themselves for whatever might come next. The elven envoy’s guards moved in response, both groups engaging in a silent standoff as their leaders held each other’s gazes.

"...That is a strange accusation to make," Tiberius said levelly. "And a bold one."

Iladrien looked from Tiberius to his men, then at Marcus. Something seemed to click for the elf as his eyes narrowed at the bard. "It was you, wasn’t it?"

For once, Tiberius had the pleasure of seeing their resident bard completely flabbergasted. Just for a moment. The man’s eyes went wide with panic before he quickly put his mask of affability back in place. "Why, what could you possibly mean?"

Tiberius didn’t buy the act for a second. Nor did their elven friend, from the looks of it. Iladrien let out a deep sigh. "Where did you find it? The book?"

"What book?"

"I took you for a bard, not a court jester," Iladrien said sourly. "But if you are not willing to admit to it…"

The elf turned toward Tiberius. To his surprise, he bowed—a deep bow, not a shallow one as he’d been offered earlier. "My apologies, Emperor Tiberius. It seems my knowledge of history outside of my domain was unacceptably rusty this day. I failed to recognize the significance of your dress and country’s name at first. This is an oversight that shames me deeply. Though I am honored to meet the new Emperor."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He bowed again, smiling. It was a more honest smile than before, not the cold and calculating one of a diplomat.

Tiberius accepted the bow with a nod of his head, but internally the questions just kept piling up. He resolved to interrogate Marcus about this "book" matter later, then asked the first and perhaps most important one. "You know of Rome?"

"I do. Very well, in fact." Iladrien straightened. "Of course, I have never met a true Roman in person. The last one disappeared before the time of my great-grandfather."

"Disappeared?" Tiberius felt a flicker of hope within his chest. "To where?"

"Well, perhaps it is better to say that they were… stamped out. Extinguished by their enemies," the elf clarified. "If you are wondering if they were able to return to your homeland, then I’m afraid not. Not so far as I’m aware. I do not believe it is on this planet, or maybe not even this plane of existence. No matter how far you march in any direction, you will not see Rome."

Tiberius felt the flicker disappear. The idea of being so far away from home that it was physically unreachable… he wasn’t even sure how to conceptualize that. Perhaps they were simply in one of many separate domains that the gods lorded over.

Still, that didn’t mean return was impossible. They’d come here somehow, after all, so perhaps there did exist a way back. But for now… there was so much more opportunity here.

"So. This world has seen Romans before." Tiberius said, still processing all of the implications. "Where did they reside?"

The elf shook his head with a wry smile. "Where didn’t they reside? That is the better question. The empire of the Romans stretched as far as one could travel before it collapsed during the War of the Gods, at least. But anywhere on a map, anywhere that humans or elves or orcs have explored, was once under Roman rule."

Despite himself, Tiberius felt himself swell with pride. This Rome that Iladrien spoke of was not any that he’d ever known personally. But it still bore his country’s name and, from the sound of it, their practices. The idea that it had so thoroughly succeeded in its conquest… It was an example he hoped to live up to.

Still, something didn’t quite add up. Iladrien had said that this empire had existed well before his great grandfather’s time. Judging by the lifespan of elves, that was likely a period of thousands and thousands of years ago. Yet in his home, Rome hadn’t even existed for a single thousand, not as an empire, republic, or kingdom.

That was all assuming that the elf was telling the truth. It was entirely possible that this was some sort of strange ruse to lull him into a false sense of security. But then, why go through the trouble? Not to mention that some of the customs and practices of elvish culture he’d described sounded oddly familiar…

One thing was for certain—this conversation had given Tiberius plenty of new information, yet also left him with too many questions to count. Some of which the envoy may be able to answer.

He turned to Iladrien and spoke. "It seems we have more to talk about than expected. I wish to invite you into our camp to speak more on these matters."

"As much as I would love to accept…" Iladrien began, looking at the sky. "I cannot. Another time, perhaps. Now, I must return and inform my liege of these developments, especially with these new revelations in mind. I’m sure the senate will be fascinated to hear of them as well. However… rest assured that this will only serve to improve our chances of reaching an amicable agreement."

Tiberius nodded. As disappointing as it was, Iladrien’s departure would give him some much-needed time to process and confirm a few things. "I understand. It was good to meet you, Iladrien of the Great Ruthin Forest."

Iladrien bowed once more. "And you, Emperor Tiberius. I look forward to returning with good news from my people and the senate."

The Emperor watched as the elf and his party left, melding into the trees as though invisible. After a few moments, Marcus broke the silence.

"Well! That certainly went better than expected." He grinned, straightening his hat. "I must admit, I did not expect to meet an elf in my time here, much less an entire delegation of them… And the stories! When they return, I simply must discover more of their history."

"Indeed. Although…" Tiberius smiled thinly. "It seems as though we have much to talk about, as well. Tell me, what is this book he mentioned?"

***

Quintus led the group of exhausted recruits into the makeshift encampment that had been erected outside of Stonester. The sprawling field of tents and temporary housing may as well have been a town itself at the moment, considering the scale of it, and for good reason. The burnt-out husk of the settlement was still in the midst of being rebuilt.

Even with their skills, a cohort of the Legion still needed time to construct everything, especially considering the most readily available resource here was stone. But at least the mines were back in operation already. The steady supply of ore was already proving invaluable for their war preparations.

After finding a place for his charges to rest—something that they did with no complaint— Quintus finished dropping off the official correspondence he was sent to deliver and issued orders to the centurions in charge. Then he went to talk with the supervisor of the mines.

The supervisor was a tall, severe man wearing spectacles and a seemingly perpetual frown. A plain gray tunic and trousers smudged with dirt hung off a wiry frame that hid a deceptive amount of muscle.

In another setting he may have appeared intimidating, but here, under Legion rule? The occupying force had instilled in him a healthy dose of fear, securing his cooperation. The man commanded enough respect among his underlings that keeping him around was deemed a good decision. There was no point in wasting useful skillsets and people, after all, so long as they proved loyal.

The supervisor stood up and gave an almost-correct salute, which Quintus didn’t bother to reprimand him for. He, after all, was a civilian and couldn’t be expected to get things right the first time. Quintus decided to treat it as a gesture of respect rather than the insult that some centurions might have taken it as.

"Status report," Quintus ordered. "How are the mines running?"

"Well enough, sir." The man spoke with just a hint of a drawl. "Production is increasing by the day, and we’ve yet to have any incidents with monsters or the miners themselves."

The supervisor launched into an in-depth breakdown of their operations. It was largely redundant, as most of the information had already been covered in the man’s reports. Still, it was good to know he was at least consistent.

"What about the ghouls?" Quintus asked once the supervisor started to repeat himself. "Have there been any signs of them breaking free?"

The man scratched his chin. "Not yet. We’ve been able to keep them down for now, but don’t have any means of permanently containing them. Evidently, you need a certain kind of mage to do that, and they’re not easy to find out here. But, well… I was wondering… With this many men…"

Quintus motioned impatiently for the man to continue as he began fidgeting nervously. "Well… do you really want to keep them suppressed, sir? What if we just, you know… let them out?"