For the Glory of Rome: Chronicles of an Isekai'd Legion-Chapter 50: Do You Have a Warrant?

The temple of Kona loomed before them, its sharp lines and fine craftsmanship a stark contrast to the buildings around it. Intricate lines of text detailing notable inventions and constructions lined the temple's trim, serving as both decorative ornamentation and a physical record of historical achievements. A crossed quill and hammer hung above the front entrance—the symbol of the god and his adherents.

This temple was one of the few that hadn't needed to be demolished during the Legion's reorganization efforts. Evidently, its location wasn't quite inconvenient enough to warrant such measures. However, that small mercy evidently didn't stop the priests of Kona from providing support for this rebellion—not surprising, considering the close ties that Arashim and Kona shared in so many tales.

Servius glanced over at Marcus, thumbing the blade at his hip. "You're certain that our brothers are inside? Alive?"

Marcus nodded. "Very. Of course, the state they might find themselves in—whether they are injured or bound or in more dire straits—is unclear, but…"

The centurion's brow furrowed. "For what purpose are they holding them hostage? I have yet to observe any of the locals making use of slaves. Do they seek to use them as bargaining chips?"

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"Perhaps…" Marcus mused. "But I suspect the reality may be much simpler than that. Recall that these are not professional soldiers we're up against—they're merely responsible for keeping the peace within the town. They're more used to breaking up drunken fistfights and disputes over cows than engaging in serious combat—much less killing."

Servius's frown deepened into a thunderous scowl. "They are squeamish about killing? Weakness. Even a guard must be ready to kill to protect his home and his people—whether it be men or beasts."

"In some places, I'm sure, though monster hunting is more of an adventurer's job. And such an attitude is surely a great boon when danger comes knocking. But in a small town like this…" Marcus shrugged. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if they managed to knock out some of your men and simply didn’t know what to do with them after."

The centurion considered that for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. "I am once more astonished at the softness of these people. But I will not complain if it means seeing more of our men alive. We will have to place their rescue as a secondary priority, however. Ridding ourselves of this barrier," he gestured to the dome above their heads, "Remains the primary goal."

Marcus grimaced, but nodded in agreement. They'd briefly considered the possibility of waiting things out rather than mounting a direct assault like this. Marcus couldn't imagine the dome lasting forever, after all. However, if the rebels' goal was to stall, then they were likely more prepared for such a tactic than the Legionnaires were—and they would've had far more opportunity to stock up on food and supplies beforehand. The capture of their fellow comrades simply sealed the deal. They would choose violence.

The bard nodded to the temple. A few groups of guards paced around its exterior. “I think we should expect quite a bit of resistance within as well—and not just the priests and guards. My network of informants haven’t been able to locate the two adventurers since this all began. I wouldn't be surprised if they, too, were inside.”

“Two? Were there not three?" Servius asked.

"Ah, right, you wouldn't know. Eleonora, the [Healer], is…no longer with her party. She made a deal with Gaius to defect and inform him about the rebellion."

The man nodded, his plumed helm waving slightly as he did. "A sensible woman. At least one of their number displayed some intelligence. I shall make note of the adventurers, but I do not expect them to pose an issue. No more than the guards."

Marcus shrugged. He wouldn’t have brushed them off so easily. Even a low-level adventurer generally had more in the way of specialized combat skills than a higher-level guard might, after all. However, the Legionnaires had seen both of them fight and likely had communicated about it either formally or through word of mouth. So while Marcus might know more about the System and this world, he wasn’t going to question the man on his knowledge of battle tactics.

Servius turned to survey his men. There were twenty-four in total, not including Marcus and Myra—the last of which had been left behind at the warehouse. The Legionnaires had been split into two groups for the assault. The first would be responsible for moving into the temple, subduing its inhabitants, and taking down the dome by whatever means they could manage. The second would take care of the guards outside and remain there afterwards. They'd serve as lookouts and hold a perimeter to block any attempts to reinforce the place—or escape it.

Marcus himself had ended up with the group going into the temple. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about it, for obvious reasons. Still, it made sense. Even the small amount of magical knowledge he possessed was far more than all of the Legionnaires combined. They'd need someone to help identify threats and deal with any of the more mystical elements they would encounter. Assuming that "kill all the priests" didn't suffice as a solution, anyway.

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At the very least, he'd have a front row seat for chronicling the action, just as he always sought. And while he suspected the time for diplomacy and words had long since passed… well, it wouldn't hurt to have a negotiator on hand.

Marcus sat there waiting, trying to still his beating heart as final preparations were made and signals were passed between the groups.The Legionnaires were stretched a little bit thin, but it couldn't be helped. They wouldn't be getting any reinforcements unless they succeeded.

The waiting came to a stop all too suddenly as the centurion raised his hand and made a fist. The assault group began moving forward as one, rushing out from the shadows to head for the temple entrance. Marcus sprinted along after them, hanging back slightly from the front. He was no combatant after all.

One group of Legionnaires rushed at the guards, catching them unawares. They shouted in alarm, only to be silenced quickly by a hail of swords and stones. On their heels, six of the Legionnaires charged forward with what appeared to be a rather large log held between them—a battering ram. It had been rather hastily erected, yet still managed to look like a professionally-made implement of war.

They swung the massive timber in unison, the wood glowing as it smashed into the door with a resounding crack. The head smashed right through the double doors, splitting the beam barring it in a single strike. The temple doors, made more for aesthetic appeal than defense, never stood a chance.

The Legion had a few of their members take skills related to siege warfare. Marcus remembered seeing them running drills to that effect—maybe not battering ram drills, but many of their field exercises involved setting up and seizing fortifications and the like. With that in mind, it was no surprise that they might use rams, ladders, and other siege equipment to great effect.

The sound of splintering wood echoed through the space as they got their first look at the interior of the temple. A grand hall sprawled before them, filled with polished wooden pews that ran down its length until they reached an ornately carved altar at the very front. Simple windows let in rays of morning light, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

The men entered the space with practiced efficiency, carefully using their shields to block potential angles of assault as they ushered everyone through. To Marcus's surprise, the entire hall was empty—there wasn't a single soul in sight among the pews or even standing along the walls. It was almost enough to make him doubt his initial suspicions.

However, that wasn't the entirety of the temple's interior. Looking around, he spotted a door at the end of the aisle, set just behind the altar from where sermons were given. A thin sliver of pulsing light emanated from the crack below the door.

Marcus pointed at it. "There!"

The Legionnaires wasted no time. The twelve men sprinted forward led by Servius, their shields up and heads swiveling for signs of danger. From the look of it, they must have expected crossbowmen to leap up and take shots from behind the pews or up in the rafters. But fortunately, no such attacks came.

The soldiers kicked in the second door—this one offering far less resistance than the first, from the look of it—and once again made an efficient entry. Marcus heard a cry of alarm followed by a brief struggle as he rushed after the soldiers. By the time he made it inside, two young priests lay lifeless on the ground, blood seeping quickly into their robes.

Their advance took them down a set of stairs and into a large basement beyond. Here, it seemed, were the rebels they'd been searching for.

Nearly thirty people filled the timber-walled space, most of them guardsmen that had abandoned their games of dice and cards and drawn the truncheons at their waists. Simple pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, obscuring some of the room from sight. Yet they did nothing to hide the most notable feature of the space.

At the center of the room knelt five priests of Arashim, their entire bodies flaring with light that seemed drawn into the center of a glowing ritual circle that surrounded them. The light coalesced into a golden orb—one that was the same color as the dome outside—as the priests shook with exertion. Nearby, another five priests leaned up against a wall or lay on bedrolls, taking their rest.

"Shields!"

Servius's command rang through the small space as the Legionnaires sprang into action. But they weren't the only ones.

As Marcus took in the scene, he spotted two more figures among the crowd—familiar ones. One was a young adventurer hurriedly stringing his bow as the Legionnaires appeared. The other… well, the other was the infamous hothead with little more between his ears than loose rocks: Jack, Eleonora's former party leader.

The warrior was already shouting a warning at his allies, his sword and shield drawn as the Legionnaires descended upon them. Jack charged, roaring in defiance.

"Tyrants! We'll free this town from beneath your boot!"

Some corner of Marcus's mind found the statement ironic, considering that they had literally trapped Habersville's residents here—not to mention that he'd yet to see a Legionnaire wearing anything other than those odd sandals of theirs. Regardless, Jack continued to rush forward, his muscles swelling slightly as he activated some kind of enhancement skill.

Marcus tried to remain out of sight. He was no fan of bloodshed and battle—not the real stuff, at least. He much preferred the more poetic and heroic versions that could be found in the stories he told. Less messy. But then, he suspected this battle wouldn't last too long anyway. Not when their opponents were a group of disorganized guards with sticks, a terrified archer, and one warrior determined to get himself killed.