A Cosconian month was thirty-six days, Michael learned, and thirteen of them made a year, he was told. For thirty-nine days, Michael was back in training, and he loved it.

He trained primarily with his squad, his Contubernium, as Joran called it. With the two of them were Lierin, Pompeia, and Octacilia, three women, and while Michael might have had reservations about them serving in the army, going toe to toe with each of them disabused him of the idea women were physically inferior when it came to combat.

Faust, Galio, and Caius rounded out their Contubernium, with Shum, being their training officer. Their Decanus.

Except for Lierin and Shum, everyone in his unit was clearly human. Lierin was taller, thinner, and her ears were elongated, the tip pointed. Michael realized she reminded him of Vulcans, from Star Trek. Joran said she was half-elven, on her mother’s side. The term sounded familiar, Michael guessed it was from overhearing his army buddies talk about their Dungeons and Dragons games again.

The Elven Empire was to the north, far, far to the north, Joran told him, but a few times a year one of their trade caravans visited the city. Occasionally one of them would stay behind and start a family here. Lierin was from such, although she didn’t talk about her parents. As skilled as she was with the sword, she was deadlier with the bow. Her eyesight was like nothing Michael had seen, she could hit targets further than he thought he could manage with his old M16 and a scope. Not to mention that she could let loose half a dozen arrows faster than he could see.

Shum looked like Rogs, although he was taller and more muscular and his teeth were crooked in different directions. He was a half-orc, also on his mother’s side. Shum wasn’t a man who smiled, but he liked to talk when he wasn’t pushing them to fight harder. Orcs had no organized rulers beyond the tribe chief, and they were nomads. Shum’s mother had wandered near the city when it was no more than a town, and Granius had fought them with the militia he’d put together. One soldier had impressed her so much that she took him as her husband and stayed long enough to give him a son. Shum still saw her every few years when the tribe she now led tested the Cosconian borders. The half-orc spoke of his mother testing the borders like his army buddies talked about playing cards.

Or, how Joran spoke of playing dice. His army buddies had stopped being such when he’d been dishonorably discharged, those who hadn't been caught in Carpenter’s betrayal at least. His friends were centurions now, like him.

He played dice with Joran, Faust, and Octacilia along with centurions from other Contubernium, He didn’t care for the game itself, six dices thrown, and each betting on the total, but it was an opportunity to socialize. Through the game, Michael learned about the currency used in the city. The copper sestus was the lowest denomination. As a centurion, he was paid ten sestus for a nine-day week, and those would feed and find him lodging for the week if he didn’t mind surviving on dried meat and sleeping in a stable. Fortunately for him, the barracks had better beds and food than that.

After copper came the iron silaq, the silver folls, and gold aurus. There were others beyond them, but no soldier saw enough coin to ever have one of the platinum tremiss. The ratio was set as one hundred to one for each of the coins. So without spending anything, it was ten weeks to get a silaq, a hundred for a folls, a thousand weeks for one aurus, and a hundred thousand for a tremiss.

How likely was it any of them would even see a folls?

Except for Joran, he ruled at dice and usually left a game with four times what he’d entered it with. Lierin was a reader, enjoying history over the made-up stories she claimed were currently popular. Faust worked leather in his spare time, Caius had aspirations of becoming a battle mage, so spent his time practicing his fire magic. Pompeia liked men, a lot, she had a new story to tell them each morning over breakfast. Galio sewed and Octacilia was a mapmaker. Shum spent all his free time training in preparation for his mother’s next visit.

After eight days of training they had a day of rest, and instead of leaving Michael alone in the barrack, Joran brought him home to his family, his wife and two child, a son, Titus who was eight, and a daughter, Helvetia, who was two. Michael was able to last through the meal. Joran’s family reminding him too much of the times with his daughter and then wife, of what he’d lost.

He stepped outside as soon as the meal was over and sat on the bench at the back of the house looking up.

“Are you alright?” Joran asked.

Michael shook his head. “Sorry for bailing like that, it was just too much.” Joran nodded and sat silently next to him. “I had a family too,” Michael said.

The man looked at him before speaking, when he did it was tentative. “You had to leave them behind?”

Michael shook his head, the image of Lisanne storming off, carrying Mary in her arms. “My ex-wife took my daughter with her when she left me.”

“She left you? Didn’t she love you? Hadn’t she made a commitment to you?”

“Yes to the second.” Michael looked at the stars and peered into his memories of his time with her. Had there been love there? “I don’t know about the first.”

“Did you love her?”

Michael opened his mouth, closed it and thought on that too. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“If you weren’t sure, why did you marry?”

He had to think about that too. “I was still single after my first tour, and my parents thought it was time. They introduced me to Lisanne, we were married three years later.”

“Your parents forced you to marry a woman you didn’t love?”

“No, nothing like that, if me and Lisanne hadn’t gotten along I’m sure they’d have found me someone else, but we did get along. We exchanged letters the entire time I was deployed. She’s smart, funny, has a good head on her shoulder. I figured we were a decent match, so while on leave we got married. I found out she was pregnant with Mary four months into my third deployment. She gave birth four months later. I couldn’t be there, but I took a leave as soon as I could and stayed home for a year, then had to go back. My fourth deployment was going to be my last, I was going to aim to become an officer after that, it would give me more time with Mary. Carpenter happened a year into that, I was sent home and things went to hell.”

“I am sorry Michael.”

“The crazy thing is that I don’t give a damn about Lisanne walking out on me. I signed those divorce papers without hesitation. It’s that she wouldn’t let me see Mary that really hurt.”

“If you’d stayed, would you have been able to get your daughter back?”

Michael remembered the feel of the Colt Government in his hand. Of looking down the barrel as the phone rang. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t getting Mary back. I thought coming here, restarting, would let me put all that behind me forever, but you and your family reminded me I left my daughter behind.” He let out a breath. “And I can’t help wondering what will happen to her.”

“If she’s anything like you, she’ll grow up to be a fighter and she’ll help others.” Joran stood. “I’m heading back inside before I’m missed. Will you be long before coming also?”

Michael didn’t look at the man. “I won’t come back in. I want to thank you for the meal and the company, but I’m not ready to be around a happy family just yet. I’ll sit here for a while longer then head back to the barrack.”

“Very well, Michael. Thank you for the company and when you are ready, my family will always welcome you as one of us.” The man headed inside.

A few minutes later his son sat next to Michael and pointed to the stars, named a few constellations. Michael thanked him and left before his presence became to painful. That night was filled with dreams of raising his daughter, watching her marry. Of living a long happy life with Lisanne. The next morning he woke feeling barely rested and threw himself into his training.

Halfway through the second week of training, Michael finally reached the point where he no longer felt like he’d died at the end of the day, after he’d added an extra ten points in his endurance. Being able to do more than fall in his bed, he took to walking around the city with Octacilia and learning the layout. Walking around the blocks was simple, it was all straight lines north-south and east-west. It was once within the blocks that things became complicated. The lanes and alleys went everywhere. It looked like the buildings had been build without thought to them, other than making sure they had a small yard and didn’t touch. In some places, that meant he could only slip a hand between buildings. By the end of the month, he had enough of a sense of the city he could avoid getting lost.

The rest of the time was spent training. Joran did not invite him to his home again, and Michael was grateful.

Training meant getting up with the sun every morning, putting on his chainmail armor, going for an hour-long run around the city, getting out of the armor and into a hard leather one, having breakfast, training with, and without, his sword and shield under Shum’s supervision. Granius trained with him for an hour each day, focusing on Katas, first the Parry-thrust one, then showing him a second one consisting of a double thrust, then combining the two in a three-move kata of a Parry and two thrusts.

Once Hostus pulled Granius back to his duties, Michael went back to training with his unit until it was time for dinner and then rest.

* * * * *

Michael followed Hostus through the marble halls of the house of leadership, where Granius spent most of his time directing the progress of the city. Too much time, Granius liked to say while they trained. He barely had any left to train with the soldiers once he was done telling this quarry leader what they needed, or that crafter how many houses needed to be added to the city to deal with the growing population.

“I so regret taking on the task of making Novus Roma a gem of a city,” he’d say, in a sarcastic tone and with a grin.

“Michael!” Granius called to him when Hostus opened the double doors to a large room. The Praetor stood by a table with four generals. “Come, come.” He motioned and Michael moved to the table, standing at attention.

“You wanted to see me, Praetor?”

Granius rolled his eyes but didn’t chastise Michael.

“Yes. How do you feel your training is going?”

“I…” Michael looked that the generals studying him. “Shum seems pleased with my progress, sir.”

“Good, Good.” Granius waved a hand over the table and the image of a map appeared. Micheal’s eyes went wide, and even wider when he realized the image was three dimensional and as photo-realistic as anything he’d ever seen. Even the science fiction movies didn’t manage anything this real.

Granius shrugged when Micheal stared at him. “I dabble.”

Michael nodded and had a sense this was more than dabbling. He forced the surprise aside and studied the map. In the center was a city, which he suspected was Novus Roma. Four spots were equidistant from it at the cardinal points.

“Watchtowers,” Granius said when Michael pointed to one. “Those are the first ones from when I began expanding the territory. They’re one passus away. Once I secured the area, the next ones were built three passus away.” The Praetor indicated the circle of twelve points on the map.

One passus was five thousand paces, which was just that, the length of a step, although everyone carried a length of rope of the official length of the pace, which he approximated to be two-and-a-half feet long.

The next ring had eighteen outposts, and was twice as distant, with another ring twice that and four more following the same doubling in distance. That made the territory what? Something over five hundred passus in radius? A thousand miles? Michael let out a whistle.

“I don’t control the largest territory,” Granius said, “but for the population I have. It is impressive.”

“Do the elves have the largest?”

“The dwarves. They control most of the east, all the way to the edge of the elven lands to the north, and the unlivable ones to their south. A desert,” Granius explained. “No one knows how far it extends. The west is mostly unexplored until you reach the Kingdom of Richard.”

“Lionheart?” Michael asked, studying the map.

“I don’t know that the old king had a moniker. Is that where you’re from?”

Michael shook his head. “Sorry. Richard Lionheart is a character in stories I remember from my youth. A king, so my mind just jumped to that.”

“Well, you’d have to travel for over a year on horseback to reach their borders, but halfway there you’ll start encountering city-states that rival Novus Roma. Korinth is bigger, but not much of a military force. It’s mostly merchants, with mercenary protecting the city.”

“So a city you’ll incorporate?”

Granius chuckled. “It will be a long time before I can extend my borders that far.” He looked at the map and when he continued, he was pensive. “I’ve seen what overextending your forces can do. I’m not interested in doing that.” He shook himself and smiled. “But that isn’t what I called you here for.” With a wave of the hand, the image changed and showed a forest with a mountain behind it. If the orientation hadn’t changed, this was to the north-west.

“That’s the edge of my territory, and there’s been an incursion of Gnolls that I’d like you to go stop.”

“Me?” Michael looked at the generals, then Granius. “Sir, isn’t there an outpost closer? Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to dispatch them to handle this?” The map zoomed out until an outpost became visible. Michael had no idea the distances involved without an index.

“If this was solely about removing the incursion, you’d be correct, but I think it’s time to see what you can do in the field.”

“Sir, will all due respect, I’ve only been training for a month. There’s no way I can take on however many of the monsters that are there.”

Granius smiled. “And in that month, you’ve made more progress than most recruits do in a few years. Whatever training you received before coming here served you well.”

Michael knew he was learning faster than most, but there was no way Granius could be serious.

The Praetor chuckled. “Stop worrying, I’m not sending you alone. Your Contubernium is going with you, as well as two more.”

“But it’s going to take us a month to get there, aren’t they going to have spread everywhere by then?”

“Gnolls aren’t adventurous,” one of the generals said. She indicated the forest. “They’re going to settle in there, look for caves, hollows, anything they can hide in. They’ll venture out to test the forces we have there, but it’ll be some time before they have the numbers to mount an assault on the outpost. They need to do that before they can risk one of the villages.”

“Fortunately, no one had settled that area before the outpost was built,” Granius said, “Unlike with the town you were at. I keep settlements away from the edge of my territory to avoid what happened there. As Dranik said, it’ll take them time before they are ready to attack.”

“But hasn’t it already been a month? That’s how long it took for a scout to come back, right?”

“It took two days for a messenger bird to fly here,” Granius said. “More efficient than runners.”

Michael nodded. A four-day delay in communication wasn’t as horrible as eighty days between sending a report and receiving orders, but a lot could happen in four days. This was so different then the battlefield he was used to. Hours was what he expected when he made a report, and that was because the people in charge couldn’t make instantaneous decisions.

He straightened. “Sir, I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”

The Praetor studied Michael, his expression losing some of the humor it had held. He looked at the generals, who left them. “Michael,” he said once it was only the two of them at the table. “I’m not sure you understand what I’m offering you here.”

“I do, sir. But I think that the success of an operation like this is more important than me proving myself to you and failing.”

“It’s just us, Michael, please stop it with the ‘sir’.” Granius looked at the map. “I understand how you feel. I had to start somewhere too, and it’s scary, but I don’t think you understand that you’re special, Michael.”

“S—Granius, I’m just a soldier, one who didn’t learn anything like this.”

Granius smiled. “I’m just a soldier too. Or it’s what I like to tell myself when all this starts to overwhelm me. But I’m also Praetor of Novus Roma, of all of Cosconius. These people look to me to keep them safe. I want you to be one of the men I can send out and know he will take care of the problem for me. I’d go. If I wasn’t tied here, I’d be there to deal with those monsters myself.”

“I’m not some…” he searched for the word, superman was what he wanted, but he didn’t think Granius would know what he meant.

“Hero?” the Praetor offered.

Michael nodded. “I can handle a sword and a shield. You have men and women who can do magic. Wouldn’t they be better?”

Granius walked around the table and placed his hands on each of Michael’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “Michael, look inside you, there’s more to you than your shield and your sword. You are a man who stepped into a fight with a horde of goblin not knowing what to expect. Who stayed until he was nearly dead. The report said that you didn’t even move from where you stood once the arrows started flying. You had to be dragged to safety. You may not want to see yourself as a hero, Michael, and I like that about you, but you are one. I need you to do this. I need you to take your Contubernium and go to the outpost to deal with those gnolls. I need you to trust that you are the hero I see, even if you don’t see him.”

Quest

Protect Cosconius, 2

Type

path, continuation

Praetor Granius Sepurcius as called on you to help protect his territory by traveling to the furthest outpost and removing a band of Gnolls before they become a problem.

Will you take on the quest Granius has offered you?

Michael nodded in spite of not feeling any of the confidence Granius showed. “I will.”

* * * * *

“Sir,” one of the civilians from the support troupe called to Michael. “We’re running low on meat and vegetables.”

Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose. Why did they always have to come to him with that? Couldn’t they just take care of it? They knew who their hunters and foragers were as well as he did.

“I’ll see to it,” Michael answered, still uncertain how he’d ended up with everyone coming to him to make decisions and still did eighteen days into their jouney. He located the two hunters and two foragers and instructed them to coordinate with the cooks to see how much they needed to gather.

You have gained a level

Leadership

level 10

Michael dismissed the message with an annoyed swipe of the hand. At least those notifications came less and less as they went up in level. He could go days now without one of them appearing, not that he did much more than direct people. He’d hoped to get some training in, during the trip, but there was always a problem for him to deal with. It was as if they’d all decided he was the commanding officer, despite being the least experienced centurion here.

“It’s the Praetor’s aura,” Pompeia said later, as they ate. The meat was roasted and dry, they wouldn’t eat the result of today’s hunt for a few days, and by then, the meat would be as dry and tough as this. “Everyone knows he’s taken a liking to you, so they defer to you now.”

“But I’m just another centurion,” Michael protested, which caused the others around the fire to chuckle.

“Who can learn magic with a few hours practice,” Caius replied. “Has matched us with the sword in only a few weeks. Of course, you’re just another centurion. You and a dozen more like you and we’d be taking on the Elven Empire.”

“Two dozen,” Lierin said, “don’t underestimate the Empire’s might.”

Octacialia waved the half-elf’s concern aside. “This is Michael, by the time we reached the Empire he’d be a master mage, an alchemist, a crafter, and a blacksmith.”

“I think you’re piling it on a little thick, Octa,” Michael said.

“Oh, no, you’ll be in all the books Lierin reads by the time we get back.”

“He won’t,” she replied, “not unless he’s behind the rise of the Dwarven Realm a thousand years ago.” She looked at Michael expectantly.

“Two months ago I didn’t even know there was a Dwarven Realm.”

“That’s what a secret hero of the world would say,” Joran commented, cleaning his bowl with the rest of his bread.

Michael eyed him. “You saved my life back in Windfall, I don’t think a ‘hero of the world’ would need that.”

“If he wanted to remain secret he’d have to,” Galio said.

Michael looked at them. “You know what, you people aren’t my friends anymore, I was hoping for support from you, not to turn me into this hero I’ve never known about.”

“Just ask Lierin,” Joran said, “she’ll be happy to tell you all about who you’ve been.”

Grumbling about the worthiness, and lack of, of anyone claiming to be his friends Michael finished his food.

* * * * *

The top of the outpost’s watchtower was visible when they made camp, Ocacilia said that they’d be there before the zenith on the next day. After eating, Michael found a quiet place to be by himself and did the one thing he’d put off until then. Look within yourself, Granius had told him when he’d accepted this quest. That phrase took on an entirely new meaning when there was something to actually look at.

With a sigh, he called up his character sheet.

Name

Michael Vladmyr Rostov

Level

24

Race

Human

Age

32

Aging speed

37.88

Statistics

Strength

41 (base 34, plus bonus)

Agility

39 (base 32, plus bonus)

Intelligence

11

Endurance

45

Wisdom

10

Statistic Points to distribute

33

Faith

Hit Points

350 out of 350

Stamina Points

391 out of 391

Essence Points

111 out of 111

Traits

Facility with Numbers

Level 1

Language(spoken) Cosconian

Static

Panic Attacks

Static

Trait points to distribute

24

Skills

Marshal Skills

Category level 17

Bashing, Medium Shield

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Bashing, Small Shield

8 (base 4, plus bonus)

Blocking, Brawling

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Blocking, Medium Shield

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Blocking, Small Shield

7 (base 3, plus bonus)

Dodging

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Kata (one-handed sword, parry-thrust)

5 (base 1, plus bonus)

Kicking

5 (base 1, plus bonus)

Leadership

12 (base 10, plus bonus)

Parry, Knife

5 (base 1, plus bonus)

Parry, One-Handed Sword

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Punching, Brawling

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Slashing, Knife

5 (base 1, plus bonus)

Slashing, One-Handed Sword

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Thrust, Knife

5 (base 1, plus bonus)

Thrust, One-Handed Sword

38 (base 34, plus bonus)

Kata

Category level 14

Parry-Thrust, One-Handed Sword

29 (base 25, plus bonus)

Thrust-Thrust, One-Handed Sword

25 (base 21, plus bonus)

Parry-Thrust-Thrust, One-Handed Sword

21 (base 17, plus bonus)

Athletic Skills

Category level 1

Jumping

3 (base 1, plus bonus)

Running

35 (base 31, plus bonus)

Spells

Fire

Category level 1

Flame

8 (base 7, plus bonus)

Water

Category level 1

Condense

8 (base 7, plus bonus)

Without anyone to compare it with, his level meant little other than indicating how far he’d progressed from level one, but he also didn’t know what the upper limit was, or if there was one. His aging worried him, if it meant he aged at one third the speed of anyone else, he’d stay young while everyone around him withered away. Would he have to leave before that became noticeable?

His stats were a little simpler to understand, He’d confirmed he was much stronger than he looked, as well as stronger than most centurions, even Shum, who looked massive. Without numbered weight, he couldn’t tell if he was four times stronger than he’d been before, but he’d picked up an anvil without straining himself. His agility and endurance were tougher to test, although he could definitely run longer and harder than before.

The faith statistic baffled him a little, it had no numbers attached to it, which could be a reflection of his lack of any faith. The battlefield either made faithful of soldiers or destroyed it utterly. He’d seen to much horrible stuff, had done too much of it himself to believe in any god that would allow people to do such things.

His traits were also self-explanatory, and the fact he could increase his facility with numbers was interesting, he could turn himself into some sort of genius with numbers, not that he expected it would do him much good here.

His marshal skills were all high, from the month-long training, but comments from his friends made him wonder if he should find other things to do. Or, if he was going to be as long-lived as he suspected, he could wait until later.

His spells, well, he’d barely gotten to practice them, other than lighting a fire here and there or taking a handful of water. He kept meaning to set aside time to practice, but distractions kept coming up.

He snapped his finger and a flame appeared over it.

You have gained a level

Flame

level 8

Of course, he’d been that close.

He took a branch and stared at its tip. He felt the heat coming from it, then snapped his fingers. The flame appeared at the end of his thumb, again. He shook it off. He'd have to ask another of the centurion for their technique and see if that one worked for him. Not that any he'd talked with had begun by summoning a flame at his finger instead of a fire pit.

He got up and rejoined the others. He had a sense that starting tomorrow, he wouldn’t get much time to relax and enjoy his friends’ company.