The return to Novus Roma was not as somber as Michael expected. He traveled only with what was left of his Contuberium and six other legionnaires. He left the others behind to ensure the outpost had enough people. The twelve of them and half the support civilians traveled in relative silence for a few days, then the mood went up and conversations restarted.
Mostly about their dead comrades at first, continuing to remember them, but quickly brighter subject surfaced, and it felt like life could go on. Michael insisted they train every day, but even he found he didn’t have the heart to do more than a token effort.
He practiced a little with his sword and shield, lit a few of the fires, and did not even look at the new information in his head about mind magic. The simple fact it had appeared there terrified him, as did what would happen if anyone else found out about it.
Because they’d lost their hunters to the Gnolls, Michael volunteered to hunt. He’d asked Lierin, since she was their only expert archer, but she refused to kill animals. She ate meat, but she didn’t want to be the one killing them. She did agree to teach Michael archery, and as with everything else, he picked it up quickly. Learning how to track without someone to show him how was slower, but he'd expected it, so began hunting before they needed the meat.
They encountered the replacement Contuberiums for the outpost a little after the halfway point. The city had been informed of their losses by messenger bird; the meeting was a none event where each group continued, simply acknowledging the other in passing.
* * * * *
Michael headed directly to see Granius instead of heading for the barracks. He’d been put in charge, so he needed to give his report, as bad as it was. Hostus looked him over as Michael approached, looking displeased as always, but opened the door before Michael reached it.
“Micheal!” the Praetor greeted him from the other side of the table in the center of the room. Michael stopped just inside the room, the door closing. There was no point in going further since he’d be dismissed the instant he was done; fired, kicked out. He forced his breathing to remain steady. He’d already had his panic attack about it and had accepted his fate. Being thrown out didn’t have to be the end of his life. There were other cities out there, he’d go to one and hope they hadn’t heard of the failure he was, and he’d do better there.
“We won,” Michael said, his tone flat, and the Praetor lost his jovialness. “But I led almost two-third of the men you placed under my command to their death.” He swallowed. “Octacilia, daughter of Herennius, Gralio, son of Statilius, Matia, Daughter of—”
“Stop, Michael.” The Praetor joined him. “What is wrong? Why do you look like the Gnolls are on their way to the city?”
Michael closed his eyes, and the words stuck in his throat. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard. He knew what he’d done. All he had to do was admit it to this man who had thought Michael was more.
“I failed you,” Michael whispered. Silence followed, and he opened his eyes. The Praetor’s face was somber.
“How did you fail me, Michael?”
“You put me in charge of those people, you put their lives in my hands, and I sent them to their deaths.”
Granius nodded. “Were those deaths meaningless?”
Michael opened his mouth and again the words wouldn’t come. Shouldn’t someone like Granius consider all deaths to be meaningless? Wasn’t that how he’d become a great leader, by keeping everyone alive?
“This place you come from, Michael, this other army who threw you out. Did they punish you for every death under your command?”
“No.” But after Carpenter, Michael had taken a second look at how the army did things and he’d decided there was a lack of respect for them. Maybe some of that came through in his tone, because Granius smiled a little.
“Do you feel they didn’t respect their soldiers’ lives?”
Michael nodded and looked away.
“Come,” Granius said, taking Michael’s arm and leading him to the table. “I can’t speak to those you served under, Michael. I know nothing of where you came from, but where I am from, every man who served under you was someone. A son, a brother, a father. I was taught to respect that. To do everything I can to honor them, to see to it they come home after every battle.”
He waved a hand over the table and a map appeared. A simplified representation of Cosconius, as made by a talented cartographer, instead of a photographer.
“I never send anyone in battle with the purpose to see them die. Every time I do, I pray to all the gods each and every one of them will return to their families and loved one.”
“And I—”
“I pray, Michael,” Granius interrupted him, his tone firm. “And I hope. But I know some will die.”
“It shouldn’t be like that.”
The Praetor looked at Michael and smiled sadly. “You are right. It shouldn’t.” He indicated the map. “Do you know how many people live within Cosconius?”
Michael shook his head. He didn’t even want to hazard a guess. He couldn’t even work out Cosconius’ size as nervous as he was, which was a first for him.
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“Roughly five million people.”
Michael gaped, then realized that wasn’t even the population of New York City. The number was large, but for a territory in the three million square mile area, that was nothing. Another thought occurred to him.
“How do you know the population? In a territory this size, it’s got to be impossible to keep track.”
“Every five years I order a census to get a sense of where everyone is, what part of my territory needs to be defended. And that is what I must do. I have to make choices as to where to establish defenses. I wish I didn’t need to. I wish I had no need for an army, and I could wake every morning and not expect a death count to this group of monsters, or that bandit force that’s been making itself difficult on the Castanian range.” He ran a finger along the design of a small mountain range.
“But there are people who want what my citizens earn through hard work. There are mindless, and not so mindless monsters who want to eat my citizens. So I have to send soldiers to protect them. And that means I am sending some of them to die.” He looked at Michael, eyes hot. “But never mistake my willingness to do what is required for a lack of respect for those legionnaires, Michael. I do not want them to die, but to keep my citizens safe, I have to accept that some will.” He placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “If you are to be an effective leader, Michael, you must accept that too.”
“Two-thirds, Granius, how is that acceptable in any way?”
The Praetor nodded. “The number is larger than I would have liked, but the reports I received indicated that it wasn’t just Gnolls you faced. There was an Outlander with them.”
Michael swallowed and nodded.
“Vile creatures,” Granius spat. “I wish the gods just destroyed them.”
“What are they?”
Granius shrugged. “Powerful beings, dangerous beings. They are responsible for almost all catastrophes in the world’s history.”
“Where do they come from?” Michael asked cautiously. “The name Outlanders would imply they come from some other place.”
Granius nodded. “I couldn’t tell you where they come from. I think the name came about because when one shows up, they’ll either speak a different language or with an accent that indicates they are from one of the other kingdoms, or other lands as the commoners like to call them. Beyond that, I have as few ideas as I expect you do.”
“Have you encountered them before?”
Granius looked thoughtful. “Two that I know of. Both times it took far too many of my legionnaires to remove them. Set back my work by years.”
“That you know of? That implies there might have been more. As powerful and destructive as they are, I’d think you would know for sure.”
“I like that you have a perceptive mind,” Granius said. “Those I’m not certain of is because they didn’t attack any of my cities.” He indicated an almost perfect circle in the southeast area, then a dot at what had to be a hundred passus away. “I am almost certain that lake wasn’t there when this outpost was built. None of the maps I’ve collected from before the territory expanded there have it. There are no mentions from the scouts I sent out to explore the area before it was built. My guess is that an Outlander entered the territory, saw the outpost, used their power to make the hole that became this lake and left. There was an earthquake in the night.”
“Don’t they all want to conquer everything? That was the sense I got from Lierin’s telling.”
“They all cause trouble, make no mistake, Michael, but only the worst of them make it into the history. The others become local legends, or are forgotten.” He looked at Michael. “You faced one and defeated it by yourself, that is quite a feat.”
Michael opened his mouth, but Granius knowing smile stopped him.
“Did you intend to tell me others helped you?”
Michael shrugged.
“There is no shame in accepting you are the hero, Michael.”
“But how did I defeat her if they’re supposed to be so powerful?” He regretted asking the question. What if the answer was that he was one of those creatures?
“I expect she was one of the weak ones.”
“There’s such a thing?” relief filled Michael.
“There must be, otherwise the world would have been destroyed long ago. I suspect they start like anyone of us, the two I’ve encountered worshiped dark gods, so maybe that’s part of it. The report said the one you fought did too.”
“Doesn’t that mean there might be good Outlanders too?”
Granius looked at Michael. “If there are, where are they? Where are the kingdoms ruled with peace and understanding?” He sighed. “It is possible some started as good, but my father had a saying from his father, and so on father back than I know. The more power one accumulates, the easier it is to want to abuse it. I’ve seen it among the politicians in my home. It’s one of the reasons I left. I tried to stop it, but the decadence became unbearable and I was only one soldier.” He forced a smile. “I am taking what I learned and applying it to Novus Roma.”
Granius straightened and fixed his gaze on Michael. “I am sorry, Michael, but I must ask this. How are you?”
Micheal frowned, searching the Praetor’s eyes. “I’m good. I was down when I came in, but you’ve made me feel better about the loss. I still regret each death, but they played a part in fighting the Gnoll back.”
Granius shook his head. “It isn’t what I am asking about. You aren’t the first to go up against an Outlander. I fought two with my armies, I saw more than one legionnaire take on the Outlander, not all of them died, but such a fight leaves its mark. You were in her face, you saw her eyes. You were there when she died. You caused that death. That will change a man.”
Michael thought about telling him about the knowledge that flowed into him then, but there was an edge to the Praetor’s tone that made him cautious. On top of the warning about mind magic, Michael wondered what Granius would do if he thought she’d somehow changed him, infected him, like if she’d pushed information in Michael’s head. As much as the Praetor liked Michael, would he do what was needed to protect his people? To make sure Michael didn’t become like her?
“I’m good,” he said, his voice cracking. “Watching her turn into those motes of light was freak—strange, but she didn’t do anything to me. I mean, I don’t think she did.” And because he had that knowledge in his head now, he couldn’t stop himself from adding. “Would I know it if she had?”
Granius watched him for long enough Michael’s hands started shaking. He made tight fists. He couldn’t panic now, not when it looked like he’d stay. And she hadn’t infected him, he was sure of it. It was just knowledge and he wouldn’t look at it.
“You would,” Granius said. “You did defeat her by yourself, she might have been too weak to do anything to you.” He nodded. “But Michael, if you ever feel something different, if you start to doubt who you are, what we are doing, come tell me.” Granius hesitated. “If it’s early enough, the mages might be able to help.”
Michael didn’t like the hesitation. Granius had made it clear that as much as it pained him, he would put his citizens before anyone else. Even someone he saw as his friend. “I will.” Michael didn’t want to risk finding out what the mages would do if they decided he was infected. “Will there be anything else?”
The Praetor smiled. “No, Michael. You and your Contuberium have done more than I could ever ask. I am proud of you, of all of you.”
“Thank you Granius,” Michael said, smiling broadly. “I’ll make sure they know.”
“You do that.” Granius paused, “And I’ll see you tomorrow, an hour past the zenith for our practice.”
“I’ll be there, Granius.” Michael turned and left, the pride he felt mostly overshadowing his worry.