Chapter 6 The Long Road

I was sized for my legion armor. The tailor was a bit handsy, but it fit perfectly when I got the armor three days later. The armor was made of auroch hide and treated with a beeswax and mink oil mixture. The chest piece was fitted, layered and hardened. The pauldrons, bracers, and shin guards were layered but not hardened with resin like the chest piece. The skirt was made from soft leather flaps that allowed running and riding. The armor had a deep rust color to it. The helmet was the only metal piece outside the rivets in the armor. It was shiny steel and looked Roman, except it had no plume on it.

My first time putting on the complete set, I had the strong odor of leather and beeswax fill my nose. It was not comfortable, but the tailor said I would get used to it. He spent time showing me how to insert leather strips in the helmet to get a good fit. Truthfully, it felt like I was dressing for cosplay and not about to go out into a world filled with creatures of fantasy and legend.

A day later, the commander pulled me from training. I was unceremoniously promoted into the Legion of the Lion seven weeks ahead of my training class. Damian spent time with me in the morning reviewing my mage Castile duties. I was to be a porter for potions and the unit funds. Since dimensional space did not have time progression, I would carry various potions for the mage’s company. I would still be expected to fight, but only at the mage’s discretion. The only good news Damian could find is the unit allowed each soldier to use their preferred weapon.

Most mages in charge of a unit had everyone wield specific weapons so they looked uniform and could function in units. Castile wanted her unit as effective as possible, so she allowed men their preferred weapon to fight with. The rest of the news was not good. Mage Castile typically replenished two to three legionnaires a month—a fairly high fatality rate in my mind.

My orders came, and I was to make the best speed to the Western Boutan front to connect with my unit. I would be traveling with part of a regular army detachment headed to a fort located there. I would be the only legionnaire in the group.

I was marching alongside 124 men down a dusty road two days later. I was wearing my new leather armor, and soon, the polished leather was covered in dust, and my sweat and body odor muted the fresh leather smell. The captain of the army unit moved to walk beside me, and we talked most of the first day of the march. He informed me we had about a week of marching before reaching our destination. He also freely shared what he knew.

The Western Boutan front was the border of our kingdom and orc lands, with the troll swamp lands sandwiched in between. It wasn’t the trolls that required constant subduing though, it was the marsh goblins and troglodytes. The trolls bred slowly while the other two races bred prolifically, and surging populations attack the border every few months. When I asked why we didn’t eradicate the source, he said the land was mostly swamps and useless to humans. It also served as a barrier to the Boutan orcs. Also, there were so many underground marsh settlements. Eliminating them would be dangerous, and they would miss some and breed back to a nuisance over time anyway.

My legionnaire kit had a small personal tent, a cook set, rations, and a bedroll. All the equipment in the backpack weighed over fifty pounds. Walking in the new leather and carrying the backpack had me experiencing new pains and chafe marks in places I didn’t care to discuss. We camped outside of towns at the end of a day’s march. I wanted to fill up my dimensional space with my kit but thought it best not to advertise my ability.

I was able to eat from the soldier’s meal cart and conserve my hard rations. Due to this, after setting up my tent the first night, I moved the ten pounds of rations into my dimensional storage, lightening my pack nicely for tomorrow’s thirty-mile march. The food wasn’t too bad. Some type of sweet cabbage with potatoes and celery. There was minimal salt seasoning, but it still was filling.

I was up and packed at first light, well before the soldiers. Even though they were not carrying backpacks, they were in much rougher shape than me. Complaints flew freely when the officers were out of earshot. I just kept to myself, not wanting to put in the effort to make friends I would never see again.

The captain chose to walk with me again on the second day, and I made an effort for a conversation by asking him about himself. Captain Lucian was the third son of a career army officer. His father commanded a garrison in one of the large cities. He was young, and this was his first command. He was going to command the overnight watch at one of the smaller forts. It was an easy assignment, according to Lucian. After one year, he would be recalled. I asked Lucian what he considered a hard assignment. He told me about the active war fronts. The constant skirmishes with the other human, elven, and orc kingdoms. Defending and expanding those borders was a constant sink of soldiers.

I asked him if women were allowed in the army like the Legion. His response was calculated. It had been tried but always failed eventually. The Legion had more discipline and did a much better job of policing themselves. That was all he said on the subject.

The days on the road started to blur. I spent my nights alone in my tent, oiled my armor with the beeswax mixture from my kit, and sharpened my two spears and short sword. I practiced what Damian had taught me for aether manipulation. I wished I had another spell form to work on. I did have enough high affinities that I could try to manifest a new ability. My displacement affinity was at 61. Displacement was essentially teleportation. The problem was Damian had told me teleportation magic took a lot of aether to use, and aether was one thing I did not have.

On the third evening, I started practicing with the spear. It was best not to get too rusty. Captain Lucian came over and practiced with me. He was good from ten years of experience. I was still able to hold my own. When we switched to blades, he far outclassed me. Thankfully, the captain was open to teaching me, which I appreciated. The soldiers watched us as we practiced, but if they were not ordered to train, they would just rest from the long day’s march.

After six days and nearly two hundred miles, the sprawling fields and woodlands transformed into dead wood and foul-smelling stagnant pools. We had reached the edge of the Agorian Swamp. We reached a square wooden fort on the morning of the seventh day, but the soldiers I was marching with were going to a larger central fort another ten miles down the road. That was where my orders had also told me to report.

The pace picked up as the destination grew close after long days of marching. The end meant rest to the men. The central fort was massive when we approached it. It had forty-foot-high stone walls. Stone walls in a swamp indicated there had been a lot of expense in building this fortification. It was massive inside as well. The bailey was filled with two-story buildings that were civilian businesses. Captain Lucian described the lower part of the fort as having enough variety to keep a thousand soldiers happy and collect their free coin.

Captain Lucian pointed out a smaller stone building near the citadel on the far side of the bailey. “That is your destination. The Legion offices for the fort. Every military fortification has a Legion office, but this region rarely sees members of the Legion, so I am not sure what is inside.”

I walked the shops slowly before heading up the earthen ramp to the Legion building. I passed two brothels, a general store, three taverns, and one inn. The businesses were active with off-duty soldiers. I had no coin, so I moved to meet my new mage commander.

The symbol of the Legion of the Lion was on the door. When I entered, a middle-aged woman was in commoner clothes behind a long bar. A few tables were in the room, and only one table had two men in worn and aged Legion leather armor. One graying man pointed at me, “Are you the raw trainee porter?” He asked gruffly.

I nodded slowly, as I figured out that described me pretty well. The man stood, knocking his chair to the floor with a thud. He drained his tankard, “About time. Magus Castile left two days ago for Formica, a large mining town nestled south of here in the Ironspine mountains. Wylie will get the horses ready. We will leave shortly.”

Still a little in shock at the informality, I was silent. The older man looked at me, evaluating me. He finally said, “Name is Firth, Elaina can bring you back to the storage room. Resupply your pack and take anything else you want. Castile is not someone to be kept waiting, so be quick about it.”

I did not tell them that I did not know how to ride a horse. I figured I could figure it out on the way. I had gone on a trail ride or two as a kid. The woman motioned me to the back room, unlocked a heavy door, and then left me. I went inside and found two rows of deep shelves stocked with everything a soldier could possibly want. I turned back, and she was gone. Could I just take anything I wanted? Would I be charged for the items like my armor? Was there some type of registry? I slowly closed the door and started walking the aisles. One aisle had foodstuff, and the other aisle had clothing, gear, and weapons.

I didn’t have much time, and I was told to resupply. That seemed like an open-ended order….