B4 Chapter 46: Opportunism

Quintus alighted on the sand between two Legionnaires. The dead [Famine Ant Queen] lay before them, its shattered corpse half submerged in swirls of red and white sand.

Yet the battlefield did not go still. A series of small tornados spawned into existence, siphoning the remaining red sand up and away from the soldiers. The remaining ants continued to move as well, prompting the Legionnaires to keep up their assault.

Quintus called for the men to regroup. He prepared for the worst, expecting the things to try and overwhelm them in retribution. But to his surprise, they did not turn and fight. The ants turned in place, antennae twitching, and began to burrow back beneath the sands.

The entire Legion tensed, waiting for them to re-emerge. Scouts and earthshapers pressed their hands to the dunes to sense their movements. But after a long minute, one spoke.

"They're retreating to their tunnels, sir."

Quintus let out a long exhale. He gripped his gladius in one hand, casting his attention toward the Legionnaires around him as he thrust it into the air.

"Victory!"

The shout was echoed in thousands of throats as it rippled across the Legion. Tired grins spread across the men's dusty faces as their shoulders sank with relief. A chant started up, echoing between the dunes as though they were ten legions together.

Quintus sheathed his blades and removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair. Rivulets of sand poured out in response. "Remain vigilant! I will not have us caught unawares as we celebrate."

He spoke to his Primus Pilus in a low voice even as the men continued to cheer and regroup.

"Tally the dead and prepare to return." He glanced around at the sands. "We will bury them in Rome if possible. It is long past time we've returned."

The man saluted and hurried to discreetly carry out his orders. Quintus began to take stock of the situation, sending out orders to tally their lost equipment and siege engines as well. That was when one of the scouts hurried over, a frown clear across his face.

"Sir," he began. "The sixth cohort ambushed the worms during the battle, but were unable to completely rout them. A few dozen remain. They appear to have regrouped in the tunnels."

"With the ants?" At the scout's nod, Quintus grunted. "See if they'll stay that way. We can clean up if need be."

He looked around in preparation to issue the orders when a realization struck him. Quintus's eyes narrowed as he turned to his aquilifer. "The commander. Where is he?"

The man frowned. "I'm uncertain, Legatus. He should have been bound with our group, but in the midst of battle..."

A sense of foreboding filled him. It was just one individual, and yet those commanders were the ones who caused the majority of the problems during this campaign. If that one got loose again...

"Movement!" Another scout shouted. "The enemy is moving west!"

"Form up!" Quintus's order silenced the celebrations as the Legionnaires snapped back into position, ready for round two. But after a few moments, it became clear the forces weren't aiming for them. They were aiming past them.

Quintus pictured the freshly-constructed fortifications of the elves, all grown from solid wood. He imagined the elves manning them, all clad in natural wood armor and wielding wooden bows. The pieces clicked together in an instant.

He swore and waved over a scout. "You. Go check the tunnels, quickly. Everyone else, get ready to move!"

The scout hurried forward, but Quintus already suspected he knew what would be there. Tunnels with considerably less red sand than before, likely loaded up in the gullets of those worms along with their commander. Sand that would prove devastating against wooden structures, armor, and bows.

The forest was about to come under attack.

***

Tiberius strolled through the training field, his Praetorian guards in formation around him. Men and orcs saluted where he passed, every one taking a moment to pause their tasks and acknowledge the emperor.

Walking amongst the trainees honored them, as the emperor was a rare sight for most outside of the parades and processions they put on for morale. It was also clearly a disruption, though none would ever dare to say as much. But Tiberius saw fit to ground himself at times. Though he knew what he saw would be carefully curated, presented in the best possible light and after much planning, he still noticed much at this distance that was not quite observable from afar. The sidelong looks of the human auxiliaries toward their orcish counterparts, the uncomfortable shifting. The persistence of more Novaran-style elements to certain men's armor rather than entirely Roman ones. Small details.

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Still, he did not disrupt for long. Tiberius crossed the practice field before climbing to the top of an observation platform and observing things from afar once more. At this distance, the skewed proportions of their most recent auxiliaries became abundantly clear. Green-skinned forms flooded the entire field, their human counterparts barely making up a fraction of their number where they were peppered amongst them.

Grund had promised him an army, and he had delivered. Multiplying from a population of less than a hundred to almost two thousand in three months... It was an absolutely terrifying rate of growth. One that had him reconsidering whether he should place additional limitations on Grund and his people, lest their numbers spiral out of control. But considering the orcs were largely reliant on Rome for food---which they consumed in great quantities---he felt that they had a good handle on the situation for the moment.

Not all of the orcs were mature yet. A number of them would take more time until they reached their full potential, apparently. But they seemed about equivalent to human preteens, well within the age where they should be learning how to march as soldiers and fight.

He watched a group of orcs "spar" against each other. They lashed out with barely-restrained fury, muscles bulging under the influence of the [Battle Trance]. Despite using blunted practice swords, the blows drew blood more often than not, and the sickening sound of cracking bone echoed across the yard. As he watched, two orcs broke their practice swords against one another, prompting the bloodied orcs to immediately halt their spar until they were both re-armed.

It was absolutely barbaric. Yet the orcs' impressive recovery meant that they did not need to fear injuries during practice like others did. Even broken arms would mend in a day, if not hours. Though that did mean a rather sizeable uptick in costs for training equipment and replacements.

The fact that they weren't outright killing each other, especially with [Battle Trance] active, was a massive leap forward in terms of restraint already. The fact that these younger orcs inherited the abilities of their forebears was also a relief, though Tiberius was a bit suspicious as to how Grund had accomplished that. He would have expected at least some to regress toward their ancestors' more barbaric tendencies. Though Rome had its own practices for runts and weaklings. He had no doubt that orcs would have something similar.

He turned his attention from the vicious displays of combat toward the other side of the field. Toward an area where the orcs were considerably less impressive.

A few contubernia of orcs clustered together around piles of sticks and canvas. They carefully lifted the sticks, arranging them carefully in place with the speed of an old man assembling a tower of cards. Wooden splinters peppered the ground, and nearby lay a concerningly large pile of similar materials and their fragmented remains.

As Tiberius watched, one of the orcs tried to gingerly stretch the canvas over the frame of an in-progress tent. The material ripped straight in half. The orc closed its eyes, trembling ever so slightly.

Despite the orcs' combat prowess, their abilities in other areas were... lacking. Despite having picked up skills to assist with such things, their natural strength, lack of dexterity, and general inexperience made the scene a common one. Even when they did manage to succeed, putting up a single tent took a full hour when it took an equivalent group of humans two minutes, even without skills.

That was a massive problem. It meant that the orcs were, at present, unable to build fortifications, camps, and other structures integral to Legionnaire tactics. They were a powerful force, to be sure, but if that couldn't be leveraged properly...

A Roman with a shaved head and flowing robes stepped toward the shaking orc. He laid a hand on the orc's shoulder. Together, they took long, deep breaths until the orc opened his eyes once more. With a nod of thanks, the orc exchanged the canvas for a new one and began his work again.

Their resident [Breathing] specialist had taken to the orcs quite well. He had amassed a huge following as he assisted with the orcs in learning to control their [Battle Trance] further. It was one of the few groups of humans that the orcs seemed on genuinely friendly terms with so far.

Still, despite the amount of specialization the Legion had begun to display, there was still a baseline of expectation for what each man should be able to do. And he had no intention of abolishing that yet. They were auxiliaries for now, and they would remain that way until they found a solution. Perhaps a mixed legion where the men covered for the orcs somewhat was a possibility, though one he didn't want to pursue.

The possibility of an orc Legion seemed a little more distant now. And based on the expressions of the Legionnaires overseeing this training, they remained skeptical as well. Still, it took one time standing behind an orc shield wall or following behind an orc's charge to see the potential.

His [Eagle's Eye] found Grund halfway across the field. The leader of the orcs seemed to sense his gaze, looking up and saluting sharply. So far, the orc had stayed true to his promise of loyalty. Whether that would continue to be the case, however...

"Sir." Lucius's voice reached his ear. "And urgent report. A new dragon incursion has besieged the northern border, larger than the others."

Tiberius sighed. "How concerning is it?"

"Very. The sheer numbers have already broken through our fortifications and forced the men stationed there to retreat. Legatus Gaius is assessing the situation, but he is requesting reinforcements immediately."

The emperor closed his eyes. It was the natural progression of things. Such incursions had been plaguing them for months with ever-increasing intensity, so a more significant assault like this was only to be expected. It was one of the reasons why the senate had called for Quintus to return and be on call for such things.

But Quintus wasn't here. He'd delayed his return for too long, and now Tiberius would have to find reinforcements elsewhere.

His eyes opened and fell back to the training yard. He would have words with his former Primus Pilus later. For now...

"...Inform the leaders of the auxiliaries." Tiberius said. "It is time for them to be tested in battle."