B2 Chapter 64: Skill Issue

After having relieved themselves of the baroness and her daughter, the Legionnaires made much better time on their return march. Marcus was honestly a little astonished to see how much the pair had been holding them back in terms of speed. Even the weight of all the gold they were bringing back wasn't nearly enough to slow the Roman soldiers. The only issue was, now that they were gone, there was a new weakest link—him.

Of course, he did his best not to hold the men back too much. Yet there was only so much he could do. He had opted to pass on purchasing a new horse out of fear that they'd draw the attention of their local dragon once again. Perhaps he could have obscured it from sight or disguised it with [Glamour], but there was no guarantee that such a tactic would even work against a high-level magical creature like that. For all he know, it simply smelled every horse within a hundred mile radius.

Instead, he found himself exercising another one of his skills—one that was quickly becoming a centerpiece of his repertoire, much to his chagrin… [Running].

Marcus's legs pumped in a steady cadence as he kept his breaths even. He'd long since shucked off both his cloak and his shirt to run bare-chested, the early afternoon sun causing his sweat-soaked skin to shine. He imagined that he would have looked quite a bit like the protagonist from a particularly steamy romance story if he were just a touch more muscular. And less obviously exhausted.

Every once in a while, when he became tired to the point of falling behind, the Legion took pity on him and stopped for a brief rest. One that he was certain they didn't need, but he appreciated nonetheless. He'd asked the elves if he could possibly ride atop one of their mounts instead so that they could make better time. However, their staglike steeds were evidently quite picky about who they allowed to ride them. So much so that even other elves were unable to so easily swap between the steeds in most cases.

And being carried by the Legion was simply out of the question. Even if the men could do it, he would never live down the embarrassment. Better to struggle along for a day or two than endure a lifetime of jokes at his own expense.

It was because of this that Marcus was able to make a rather strange observation. As his steps slapped along the ground behind the Legion, he noticed that the ground felt… different. Firmer. More solid and easy to run on. Looking down, it also appeared significantly more worn than it should as well.

Perhaps it should not have come as a surprise. After all, the passage of this many men was sure to leave some sort of mark on the land itself. Yet this felt like more than the simple wearing of a new trail or the effects of many footfalls compressing the earth. In fact, if Marcus didn't know any better, he would have said that their passing seemed to leave something akin to an actual road in their wake.

After noticing the strange phenomenon, Marcus made it a point to ask about it at their next rest stop. None of the rank and file Legionnaires seemed to notice or particularly care, looking forward as they were to the end of their march. But Gaius did take quite a bit of interest.

"Hmmm." The young officer scratched his chin. It had begun to sprout the barest bit of wispy stubble as of late, and though he'd made sure to shave it immediately, Marcus still caught the man stroking the spots where it had been quite regularly. "I'm not surprised."

"You're not?" Marcus asked incredulously. "Because I certainly am. What manner of skill do you have that does something like that?."

Gaius shrugged. "It's one of the Legion's duties to care for and maintain the roads on which we march—or, should it be required, build those roads ourselves. Considering how the skills in this world seem to refine themselves according to our intent, I'd suspect this is another consequence of that. Perhaps our practice and subsequent mastery of marching is causing the skills related to it to grow in a new direction. That's how we evolved [Marching] into [Warpath] in the first place, after all."

The bard blinked. "That's… you can do that?"

"Of course. You didn't know?"

Marcus shook his head. He'd long known about the importance of leveling skills rather than just oneself. He was a major proponent of just that. But this was a level beyond.

He sought to level skills in order to improve their power and efficiency. Rarely, doing that enough would even reward him with an even more specialized evolution. Yet they were always either a strict improvement over or a more narrowly-focused version of the original skill. That was his understanding.

Gaius shook his head. "It astonishes me how little this world's own people understand its workings." He gestured toward his men. "When we use skills, we use them to supplement an action we are already performing. They are ways to improve the efficiency of something we were already doing. In other words, we would still be more than capable of performing the base action without the skill… to an extent.

"But from what I've seen, this is uncommon." Gaius continued. "The people of this world let the skill do the heavy lifting and guide your movements as though you are merely a puppet for the System. How, then, do you expect to master anything? Why would you expect to be rewarded?"

Marcus frowned. The Legionnaire's words certainly made sense. His explanation of how people usually used skills also rang true, though it stung a little to admit as much. But could it really be that easy?

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"If what you say is true, then how are you possibly the first to figure it out?" Marcus asked with obvious skepticism. "I don't mean to contend with your results, as you are obviously doing something right. But think about it. There are thousands of years of research that people have put into understanding the System. Research done by powerful mages and warriors and scholars alike, all seeking the best ways to improve their skills and their power. Surely they would have stumbled upon this somehow?"

Gaius snorted. "If such powerful beings exist, then I would like to see them. So far, all we've encountered are weak buffoons."

"I don't think you do. Most of them are either occupied with the war or reclusive by nature, more prone to train and seek out stronger opponents and increase their own power than to take up residence in a town or city. Though I did have the privilege of seeing one of Novara's strongest warriors in a tournament once. The aura that man put off… " Marcus shuddered at the memory. "I got the sense that he could have slain everyone in that city without breaking a sweat."

"I honestly doubt we are the first to learn such," The Legionnaire seemed unimpressed. "Do you think that these 'powerful beings' would have any inclination to share what they had learned? Either with each other or with the populace at large?"

Marcus opened his mouth, then closed it again with a grimace. Surely something this fundamental would be widely known? However the man's reasoning was hard to argue with. The details of what a given class or skill did were closely guarded secrets for all but the most common ones. Even master craftsmen and artists remained quite cagey about their secrets, passing down information about their skill selections and what had to be done to unlock them to only their most promising apprentices. Given that, the idea that anyone would freely share such valuable information as this…

"...Then, why are you sharing it with me?" Marcus asked. "Surely it's not simply due to our deep bond of brotherhood."

Gaius chuckled and shook his head. "No. It is not. Where I come from, we have a different perspective on the sharing of information. You see, Rome has assimilated quite a number of cultures into its own throughout history—yours included. We specialize in taking that which is worth keeping and discarding that which is not. And so, if we discover a piece of technology or an improvement in the way things are done, we tend to use it."

"Is that not normal?"

"Not as much as you'd think." Gaius sighed. "My studies included quite a bit of history, both of our civilization and those of barbarians. Better to learn from the mistakes of those who we conquered, so as not to repeat them ourselves.

"Anyway, many of these civilizations would develop something grand and incredible with the potential to make great changes—in war, in daily life, in construction, what have you. And yet they wouldn't use it. They'd keep it secret and buried simply to avoid their enemies learning how to do the same thing and using it against them. Enemies who were sometimes doing the same thing." He shook his head. "Two cultures, both hiding the same idea from each other, neither benefiting from it… It was a foolish waste in more ways than one."

Marcus blinked. That sounded like the backbone to quite a strong cautionary tale. He filed it away for later. "I've never heard of such a thing happening."

"I'm not surprised. Secrecy is the name of the game, after all. And who would admit to such a thing in the aftermath? It would make them seem like an even bigger fool." The young officer leaned back, looking up at the sky. "Of course, much of this is conjecture for those same reasons. But it makes sense. It is why we tend to promote the sharing of information. Better to create further innovations as well."

As the Legionnaire finished his explanation, Marcus fell silent. Then, he shook his head. "Your home sounds like quite the strange place. I already suspected as much from observing and interacting with you all, but the more I hear about it…

Gaius chuckled, his gaze still tracing the drifting clouds. "I would imagine it seems that way. But those differences are what allow us to view your world's System with such a different and superior perspective. At least, that's what I believe. And given what we've managed, I don't believe I've been proven wrong."

The pair fell silent, listening to the dull buzz of activity that filled the air around them. Given the brief nature of this rest, they hadn't gone through the trouble of setting up an entire camp. Yet there were more than a few cookfires and stools that had made their way out of packs and onto the dry grasses that sprawled out in every direction.

"Your upbringing must have been far removed from my own." The bard remarked. "The only history I learned as a child was from the soldiers, drunkards, and sellswords that haunted the seedy bar near my home. It wasn't until I was studying the classics much later did I get a good picture of our history."

Gaius gave him a sidelong look. "Really? With the 'royal' moniker in your class, I expected that you would have been born to a higher station than that."

Marcus chuckled darkly. "An assumption made by many. But an erroneous one, I assure you."

He didn't elaborate further. His past was not a topic that he particularly liked to delve into. But he did feel a strange kind of kinship with Gaius. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to build closer bonds with the Legion's second in command. That was surely reason enough.

Gaius didn't press the matter. Instead, he answered Marcus's implied question. "My upbringing was quite a fortunate one, to be sure. My father is a friend and peer of Tiberius's. Or rather, was." His expression faltered. "He passed not too long before we set out on our final campaign."

"Ah." Marcus said simply. "I'm sorry."

Gaius waved the condolences away. "He was a good man. He provided well for his family. I grew up with the finest tutors one could ask for and many of the luxuries besides. Although…" The Legionnaire gave a small laugh. "He didn't allow me to go soft. Not in the slightest. Tiberius saw to that."

"Tiberius did?"

The young officer nodded. "He taught me much of what I know about war. Neither he nor my father would have me being a Legionnaire in name only, after all. He even convinced Quintus himself to become my sword instructor and trainer from a young age. Though that did backfire on them somewhat. My uncle developed a bit of a soft spot for me."

A faint smile came to his lips at that. The pair sat for a long moment, each reminiscing over a past long gone. Eventually, Gaius stood. "Well. I believe it's time to get moving again. Are you ready?"

Marcus heaved himself to his feet and stretched. "I think I can manage."

With a final nod, the officer began shouting orders to form up and make ready to march. Marcus mentally prepared himself. It wouldn't be much longer until they reached Hausten. Then, he didn't care if the king himself descended on the city with his entire army. He'd put his feet up and take a nice long rest.

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