For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion
B2 Chapter 21: What is Your Profession?

Quintus led a long column of men as they snaked through the hills, keeping to the valleys and behind the elevated terrain as much as possible. They’d managed to evade notice so far, but he wasn’t sure that would last much longer. The hills themselves were not nearly as pronounced as they’d looked on the map. A mistake in their information, perhaps. Or maybe he just hadn’t accurately taken account of the scale.

Either way, the fact remained that their forces would have more trouble hiding than he’d hoped. It wouldn’t be impossible, of course. Just a little more difficult if the enemy was properly wary. His forerunners had spotted the enemy’s column earlier that day, and he suspected that their own forward scouts would soon spot the Legion if they hadn’t already. That would throw off their initial ambush and might ruin their element of surprise.

However, there was good news as well. The speed that the Legion moved at vastly outstripped the pace of their enemy. It meant that, even if they didn’t catch them completely by surprise, a rapid enough advance wouldn’t leave the other army time to fully reposition into a defensive square. That meant they’d be able to fall upon the strung-out column itself.

It wasn’t optimal, but if they played their cards right it would work out quite well. Especially if the auxiliary archers showed up anytime soon.

“Can… can we… slow… down…?”

The panting wheezes roused him from his thoughts. Glancing over, Quintus spotted its source easily. An exhausted girl, drenched with sweat, gasped for breath beside him. Her legs wobbled as they pumped mechanically forward, struggling to keep up with the rest of the Legion.

“No,” Quintus replied simply.

Eleonora groaned as Quintus shook his head. Their march had only lasted a few hours and been at a fraction of their maximum pace. True, the men had skills to bolster their performance, but he suspected that Eleonora would look much the same even if she’s been moving at the Legion’s pace before coming to this world. At least she was leveling the [Marching] skill she’d been told to take.

The [Healer] had been assigned to accompany the cohorts into battle for a few reasons. The first and most obvious was her abilities as a healer. Such skills would be in great demand the instant they entered battle, of that Quintus had no doubt. The second was to oversee the century of other medics she’d been training for the Legion.

Their progress had been… adequate. The men had managed to pick up a number of medically-related skills, including [Minor Healing], which was apparently the most basic variety of healing spell out there. Unfortunately, its efficacy left much to be desired. It did little more than fix cuts, mend bruises, and set bones, albeit more quickly and efficiently than such things might’ve healed naturally.

Fortunately, their abilities were not limited to the magical. Several of the Legion’s milites medici—their doctors—had picked up skills related to more mundane medicine, such as [Surgery] or [Cauterize], which allowed them to make leaps and bounds in their effectiveness. But as far as regenerating limbs or cleansing diseases went? Miracles like that were still restricted to the domain of the [Healer] and her spells.

Unless, of course, the severed limb was still on hand. He’d seen one of the more skilled milites medici reattach a man’s fingers the other day. They’d worked as though he’d never lost them.

Still, their efforts continued. These advancements were a start, and certainly made it easier to keep the men in peak fighting condition. But he couldn’t help but look forward to the day when their doctors were more akin to magicians, able to cure any wound with a wave of their hand. Though he suspected that the men would begin to develop some rather reckless habits if that were the case.

That all depended, of course, on their resident [Healer] surviving this march. Something that was seeming a little unlikely based on her breathing. At least she would level her skill this way. Though if she passed out, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem for the men to carry her.

Aside from Eleonora’s labored pants and occasional complaints, the march was relatively peaceful. They continued for several hours before the scouts brought more news. “Sir. We’re fast approaching the ambush point. It appears that we’ve still managed to go unnoticed.”

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Quintus nodded to the aides that marched alongside him. Those men were doing an admirable job of hiding their exhaustion. Far better than last march, at least. Maybe they were just reluctant to emulate Eleonora’s example.

“Let’s divide our forces and position, then.” Quintus suggested. ‘We should be prepared to move if we are spotted.”

With that, their forces split. Two cohorts followed Quintus west while two more followed the other senior centurion to the southern side of the enemy column. The last two were held in reserve just out of sight. They followed after their scouts, being careful to avoid the field of traps that had been set up across the plains. Getting injured by their own countermeasures would be embarrassing, to say the least.

It wasn’t long before Quintus had his men in place. They lined up just behind the peak of the long hill where the ambush would take place. Once they were ready, Quintus nodded to one of the Legionnaires that specialized in communications. The man closed his eyes, sending an unseen signal to the other group before opening them again and nodding.

Quintus tensed, keeping his eyes on the horizon where the opposing force would soon appear. Their own scout—or scouts—would likely precede the main body, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. They would get noticed, but when was the question. The longer it took, the better.

Soon, a lone female figure appeared, her form sheathed in tight-fitting black leathers that left little to the imagination. She crept through the grasses, moving carefully even though her garb did nothing to grant her any level of stealth in this setting.

He frowned at the sight. The woman looked… familiar, somehow. He could have sworn he’d seen her before. But where?

After a moment, it dawned on him. He had seen her before. That night in the woods, when a patrol had been ambushed. When the first Legionnaire had died. She’d been the one to kill him.

He gritted his teeth at the memory, then smiled grimly. It seemed the gods had been good to them this day. Though they’d already killed the woman’s companion, it seemed that they’d have an opportunity to finish the job and exact their revenge. Not now, though. Soon.

Quintus held his breath, waiting for the inevitable shout of warning that alerted the army behind of their presence. But it never came. Instead, the woman’s attention was directed solely at the ground.

“Level sixteen [Rogue]”, one of his men informed him in a whisper softer than the shifting grass. “She’s one of the high level threats and the main scout we’ve seen. The rest of the army are in a level range of 4 to 9. Most falling closer to 4. No combat classes from what we have seen, mostly [Farmers] and assorted craftsmen.”

That aligned with what he recalled. Still, the revelation proved reassuring. They’d handled two adventurers of her level with essentially a few centuries of men. With these numbers? Quintus suspected that these threats may find themselves overwhelmed more quickly than they expected.

She knelt down, moving her fingers deftly across a spot in the grass until a soft click sounded. The woman straightened, tossing aside a mess of wood and metal before continuing to comb the ground before her.

The realization struck him in an instant. This was why they hadn’t been spotted. Rather than ranging far and wide, their high-level [Rogue[ was preoccupied with dismantling the field of traps they’d laid out. So much so that she hardly even paid mind to the rest of her surroundings.

He smiled to himself. Disabled as they were, the traps still making themselves plenty useful. He’d have to make sure that the men who’d produced them knew.

The woman passed between the hills obscuring the Legion. After a little more silent waiting, the army behind her finally appeared.

It began with three individuals at the lead. A massive warrior in fiendish black armor and two women, one in revealing robes and the other in a comically large hat. Considering their strange garb, Quintus was all but certain that these were the high-level adventurers he’d been warned about.

He frowned. Including the [Rogue] woman, they’d only seen four high-leveled individuals when there were supposed to be five. That meant there was one unaccounted for. That was never a good sign. He wanted to ask his scouts about the matter, but didn’t want to risk making noise. Not now.

The group followed the route that had been cleared for them, carefree and chatting as they moved. Behind them came the bulk of the army. They were clumped together in a loose column and bore comparatively poor equipment. Furthermore, its soldiers were uncoordinated, some horsing around with each other in a clear lack of discipline. Others appeared wary, gingerly weighing each step even though the path was ostensibly safe.

Quintus waited for the entire vanguard to move past their position. The plan was to cut off the highest level troops from the rest of the army, and considering that the discipline and fitness of the troops only decreased as they passed, it did seem as though their strongest were concentrated at the front.

With a few silent signals, the men readied themselves. For now, they would crush the main body of the army and retreat before any reinforcements from the rearguard or the vanguard could come at them. Hopefully that would allow them to deal substantial damage and avoid engaging the high-level enemies until they had been softened up.

Quintus raised his hand slightly, the movement mirrored by centurions all the way down the line. Then, when the moment was right, he dropped it—and the Legionnaires exploded into action.