For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion
B2 Chapter 17: What We Do in Life

As soon as they registered the coming threat, the Legionnaires sprang into action. Men rushed to the sides of the boat, grabbing oars and beginning to move the ship in a more intentional direction. Gaius took up a position at the prow, issuing orders and directions as the remaining men began pulling out the new style of spear they’d begun to carry.

Marcus stood awkwardly at the center of it all, uncertain of what to do. One man pressed a long spear into his hand, but he was just grateful that no one was driving him toward one of the oars. As they got their feet under them, he called over to Gaius. "Is this supposed to happen? Is building giant flooding deathtrap arenas a favored pastime of your people?"

"Not exactly," a centurion shouted over the din of activity. "Most bouts took place on dry land between gladiators and beasts and the like. But the amphitheater could be flooded to host mock naval battles like this one."

"Aye," one of the other men called over as he rowed. "It’s true. My grandfather oversaw part of the construction. It was a real marvel, pulling that off. Seems like they had the same idea here when they built this place. Though it’s practically un-Roman to be on a ship…"

Marcus spared a glance toward the incoming boats. "Un-Roman? Please tell me that someone here’s fought on a ship before."

"Not in my lifetime. The Mare Nostrum was fully pacified before my father was born. Occasionally we had transport up the Rhine, but for the most part, our navy..."

"If you have breath to talk, you have breath to row!" Gaius shouted. "Let’s move!"

The boat began moving faster as eight oars dipped into the water, driving them towards one of the approaching ships. It seemed like the young officer was aiming to engage before the other could pincer them.

A lurching crunch echoed through the enclosed space as their prow struck one of the approaching boats. It hit the side of the vessel at an angle, the impact sending Marcus stumbling forward. He almost dropped his long spear, which he barely managed to avoid skewering himself with as he used it to prop himself upright.

The Legionnaires, though, were not so slow to react. The two with Gaius who weren’t manning the oars, had their own spears ready. They leapt across the gap right after impact, skewering the armored automatons manning the other vessel with their outstretched spears.

The faceless figures didn’t so much as twitch from the blows. One even grabbed at the spear haft protruding from its chest, pulling it until the Legionnaire holding it was forced to let go or be thrown off balance. Evidently, their reactions to damage weren’t meant to approximate a human’s.

The Legionnaires on the oars quickly locked them in place, grabbed their weapons, and followed their comrades over to the other boat to assist. Marcus moved out of the way as they leaped across the small gap. Their spears and swords tore into the automatons, finding chinks in their armor to disable limbs and forcing them back toward the edge of the boat. Even if the enemies didn’t react to a hole in their chest, a severed limb was still a severed limb.

The rhythmic sound of oars slipping in and out of water grew louder. Marcus swiveled around. The second boat was fast approaching and about to join the fray.

"Incoming!" Marcus shouted just before impact. Another ship joined the knot in the center of the water, sending them rocking again as it impacted their other side.

Marcus looked around in a panic. All of the other Legionnaires were off their boat, having boarded the other one to secure it. Worse, the impact had left a hole in its side and water was quickly filling the vessel’s bottom. Swearing under his breath, he clumsily jabbed out with a spear as the automatons began to board. The strike skidded off a breastplate, but luckily knocked aside a thrust aimed for himself as he backed up.

He looked behind him and quickly realized that he didn’t have much more room. He threw his spear clumsily at the automaton approaching him. It skidded uselessly off its side, but he hadn’t expected much different. The important part was freeing up his hands.

He drew out his spellbook from beneath his cloak. The book wasn’t something he used often, and for good reason. Spell paper and ink were prohibitively expensive, and most spells cast without the full suite of spellcasting-related skills came with pretty nasty side effects. Not to mention that his usual skills were usually more than enough to deal with any threat. If they weren’t, however… he liked to have a backup strategy. And considering that his current enemies weren’t human, he felt more than comfortable using the potentially lethal spells against them. He was no murderer, after all.

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He hastily flipped the book open to a bookmarked page and lifted his hand toward the approaching automatons. His eyes flicked toward the page and read out the words in a clear sing-song voice.

Borne of frost,

Built in ice,

Freeze, all right?

The wording of the spell left something to be desired. Whoever had written it clearly wasn’t a [Bard]. But he did his best with what he had.

A blast of icy wind erupted forth from his palm, engulfing the automatons before him. The three in the front of the charge froze fast, seizing up as their joints locked up and filled with ice crystals. Even the water filling their boat and the surface nearby began to crackle from sheer proximity to the spell.

The words on the spellbook’s page burned away as the mana stored inside them was used to fuel the spell. Marcus winced as the words disappeared from his mind and a sudden headache threatened to split his skull in two. Thankfully, it was just pain—far better than one of the enemy’s spears actually splitting his head open.

He leaped up, grabbing the gunwale and tumbling over to the other ship. The attack had bought him a bit of time, slowing his aggressors and forcing them to navigate past their frozen brethren. He half-fell into a small pool of water that had begun to accumulate in the vessel.

As he regained his feet, he saw that the Legion had devised a far more effective way of dealing with the automatons than dismembering them. One of the Legionnaires stabbed forward with his spear, then twisted violently. The sudden motion pulled the thing off its feet and sent it off the side of the boat. Its blank, mannequin-like face showed nothing as it sank into the waters below.

More went overboard as he repositioned behind the Legion’s formation. The men made short work of the few remaining automatons, then shifted in preparation for the next wave of attackers following on Marcus’s heels. Unfortunately, they couldn’t bring the entirety of their forces to bear. A pair of men found buckets and worked swiftly to bail out the water that continued to pour into the ship.

Marcus backed up and moved to help them as the rest of the Legionnaires formed a wall along the boat, slinging their shields onto their arms and bracing them against the gunwale. Their spears lashed out, stabbing toward the faceless armored figures as they approached. The enemy’s attempts to climb aboard were met with two feet of sharpened metal piercing their limbs and chests.

However, the situation had changed. The Legionnaires were no longer on the offensive with the full weight of the contubernium’s eight men behind them. Now, they were on the defensive. And with the sheer amount of water pouring in, they appeared to also be on a timer.

"Claudius! Decimus!" Gaius shouted. "Man the oars! We need to gain distance!

Two more men peeled off from the wall to do as their commander bid. The remaining men redoubled their efforts, stabbing over and over again between raised shields. Once a small gap opened up between their boats, the automatons suddenly turned back, abandoning the half-sunken boat they were launching their assault from in favor of their own pristine vessel.

Manning the oars, both parties began to maneuver around the arena. Between the men bailing out water and the Legionnaires’ stated lack of expertise at sailing, however, they found themselves moving more slowly than the other boat. And even with how in sync the men moved, it was hard to beat the coordination of literal golems. It was all they could do to avoid receiving another hole in their side.

Marcus gritted his teeth. At this rate, their enemy didn’t need to do much more than wait for them to sink. Maybe he could cast another spell? He was loath to do it for a multitude of reasons, but given the alternative…

"Sir!" One of the men called from the oars. "Permission to use our throwing spears?"

Gaius scowled. "You saw how little they did. Even if you fill them with more holes than a public toilet, they’ll continue rowing."

"Not the return function, sir. The other one."

Marcus looked between the two men in confusion. Evidently Gaius understood, because he nodded. "Do it. We need some way to beat them before we sink. It’ll be a good field test."

Nodding, the Legionnaire pulled his oar in and stood. He hefted the spear in one hand and aimed carefully at the other boat as it skated across the water. Then, he threw.

The spear sailed through the air, lodging itself deep into the side of the boat. Marcus assumed that the man had missed his intended target. Until he spoke a single word.

"Boom."

The head of the spear flared cherry red and exploded. The blast tore open a head-sized hole in the side of the enemy vessel. Water began rushing in, prompting the automatons to abandon their rowing and bail themselves out with jerky movements. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t enough. The boat quickly sank beneath the water, taking its armored occupants with it.

A thunderous cheer rose from the stands. Marcus looked over in utter confusion. There, lining the arena, stood the rest of the Legionnaires that had come on this excursion. They roared in approval, pumping their fists and shouting. Marcus even swore he saw a few coins exchange hands.

He shook his head. Despite how much time he’d spent with the Romans, there were still so many things that didn’t make sense to him. Oh, well. It wasn’t the kind of performance he usually put on, but so long as it pleased the crowd…

He gave a flourishing bow, then gestured to the men standing beside him as though they’d all put on a particularly fine play. The boat steered toward the edge of the arena, its occupants eager to step onto dry land once again.

That was when the water began to swirl and foam at the center of the arena. The trumpet sounded again, and Marcus’s heart sank.