B4 Chapter 10: An Old Man’s Tale
"More mana!" Tiberius ordered. “Third Legion, assist!”
The men were already moving. The newly minted members of the Third Legion who had magical training stepped forward to add their own mana to the effort. In moments, they began sweating alongside the veterans, the words of the emperor spurring all of their progress.
The efforts made the ritual circle flare with renewed light and did slow the leak somewhat. But they didn’t stop it entirely. Claude’s apprentices rushed forward, scanning the circle and beginning to call out spells of their own in an attempt to salvage the ritual. A few used strange tubes to deposit lines of crushed gemstones along the outer perimeter, creating a second circle to contain the first. All the while, coils of golden light swirled about them, filling the room like thick smoke.
The stone vibrated. Beneath the chaos, Marcus could faintly hear a few shouts of panic elsewhere in the castle. He momentarily considered whether it would be safer to flee before the ceiling itself collapsed upon his head. But no. Opening the door may well spell disaster. The fact that the golden light wasn’t dissipating entirely suggested it had been outfitted for a failure like this. Even if the door would open for him, he rather doubted that it would help matters.
The figure at the ritual’s center managed to down the second potion. His figure swelled and revitalized, moving quickly to grab a third. But the effects were nothing next to the sheer magnitude of his plummeting constitution. His figure withered with alarming speed and left his gnarled fingers scrambling for the cork.
Marcus swung his lute in front of him and began to strum. His own mana pool was hardly a drop in the bucket compared to all of this, so adding it to the mix would be no help. But he had to help. Otherwise, the Grand Mage may well end up as a pile of dust and ash. And so, he launched into a song. One that had seen much positive reception since he’d begun playing it around the city. The first movement of the Legion’s epic.
A long, long age ago
I can still remember how the legions
Used to march in file
And I knew if they returned again
They could make the whole world bend
And maybe we would triumph for a while
But the winter brought a shiver
With each scroll that I’d deliver
Dark news on the border
We had lost the ancient order
I can’t recall if I had cried
When I heard the eagle standard died
But something stirred me deep inside
The day the empire died
It felt only fitting. Considering the room full of Legionnaires around him, he rather doubted it would fail to resonate.
Marcus raised his voice, the notes of the song carrying to every ear with complete clarity. The swaying Legionnaires seemed to stabilize, and Tiberius’s own shouted orders took on a more authoritative quality themselves. Even Claude himself seemed to tremble a little less under the influence of the [Inspirational Song].
Eleonora stepped forward, the intense glow of her hands visible even through the haze of gold. Claude’s figure flared with matching light, allowing him to rip the cork off the bottle. Over the course of a few long seconds, he raised the container to his mouth and downed the potion, his arm falling limply to his side as soon as he was finished.
Taken from Freewebnovel, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Marcus saw the [Healer] crumple beside him, face pale and shaking. He suspected that she’d be feeling the effects of that little stunt for quite some time. Though if this went on for long enough, he may well join her.
His song continued as Claude struggled to stay upright, trembling as his very life’s essence poured out of him. A grand tale of heroes and conquerors from ages long past, fallen once and risen once more, poured from Marcus’s lips like honeyed mead. This was merely the introduction, setting the stage for the Legion and their future conquests. An inspirational song in multiple senses—one that wasn’t burdened by messy and unpleasant details.
With each note, Marcus felt his connection to the Legionnaires grow and strengthen. Not just the First Legionnaires, either. He felt the tenuous strands that bound him to the Third Legion grow more firm in his awareness as well. Not wanting to squander such an opportunity, he leaned into it, pulling on those connections and pushing even more energy through them. He saw backs straighten and expressions firm with grim determination all around the room.
Then something strange happened. He felt another connection. Not a full one, just a fledgeling thread, unconnected but forming as though being woven in real time. A thread extending toward Claude.
Marcus decided not to let the opportunity slip him by. He focused on that thread, willing it forward, trying to imbue it with all of the ideals of the Legion he’d woven into his song. It began to grow, faster and faster, creeping inch by inch toward the Grand Mage’s trembling figure. The performance rang through the room and the sounds of chanting mages began to sound almost like a choral accompaniment.
“Done!”
A secondary dome snapped into place around the first. The leaking gout of golden energy slammed into it, causing the shimmering wall to wobble like a soap bubble. But it held.
Marcus didn’t stop. Neither did the others. The entire group continued pouring their all into the ritual, under no illusions that this victory was a complete one.
Tension filled the air as they continued to press onward. Marcus moved on to the second movement, then the third, then further as golden light continued to swirl before them. By the time he reached the campaign into orc territory, his fingers were beginning to tire and a soft buzz in the back of his head warned him that he would really start to regret his decisions soon. But still, he pressed on.
He was dangerously close to debuting a work-in-progress movement of his epic when the faint thread finally reached Claude. It made contact with the old man’s chest and snapped into place. Finally, the light within the domes began to dim. Slowly at first, then more rapidly. Claude raised more potions to his lips, shakily at first then with more strength and confidence. By the last one, his tremors had all but ceased. Then, the last of the light finally faded.
Grand Mage Claude looked remarkably similar to how he had before. The same wrinkles, long white hair, a magnificent beard. It was only upon closer inspection that the differences became more apparent. His form appeared more filled out now, as though the final stages of the ritual had imbued him with a small amount of wiry muscle. Despite the ordeal, his eyes shone with nothing but excitement and naked greed.
Marcus finally allowed his hands to drop and his voice to fall silent. Already he felt the headache beginning to set in. But he couldn’t help but allow himself one more [Appraisal].
[Legionnaire – Centurian] (Lvl 1)
The old man laughed manically. “Excellent, excellent! It worked! Avernus, what were the readings on that ritual? The mana saturation had to be incredible!”
“M-master…” One of the apprentices wheezed, his hands on his knees. “The equipment…”
Marcus followed the poor man’s eyes and finally took in the state of the room around them. It was in shambles, to put it lightly. The sensitive equipment that had been happily clicking and measuring away about its perimeter was all shattered into pieces. Even much of the remaining furniture had been tossed asunder in the chaos as apprentices and Legionnaires rushed about.
Claude gaped at the sight. “No readings?! We did all of that and got no data? There has to be some!”
The former Grand Mage pushed himself to his feet, wobbling dangerously in place. He seemed surprised, taking a moment to do a few squats and pace around the floor mumbling to himself. Then, he held out a hand with his palm up and stood there.
“...I suspect you wish to visit a class stone?” Tiberius asked with slight amusement. “In order to test your magic.”
Claude looked toward him and grinned. “Of course! What are we waiting for?!”
The man cackled and bounded out of the room with all the vigor of a spring chicken. Tiberius turned to address them briefly.
“Good work. I thank you all for your contributions in this endeavor. Your efforts will not go unrecognized.” His eyes lingered on Marcus for a long moment. “Now. I must go.”
He left alongside Quintus and his guards. As soon as they disappeared from view, every remaining man in the room slumped to the ground in exhaustion—Marcus included.
“How… how the hell does that old geezer still have energy? After all that?” One complained.
Marcus had no answer. Instead, he simply laid on the cold stone floor and stared at the ceiling, listening to the mad laughter that echoed in the distance.
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