The number of legionaries on the street was definitely somewhere in the thousands, half of which were not or only barely conscious. Meaning they were in no way organized and ready to move when I arrived. I knew the state of the legionaries was strange, with them supposed to be able to fight at the drop of a hat and all, but I didn't think they were trying to ruin our reputation on purpose.

Their excuses of having broken limbs, being unconscious from head wounds, having no more mental energy, being the only survivor of their century, or warily watching their enemies across the street all sounded good and reasonable, but at the end of the day, this was taking forever. After an hour of reassuring the group's leadership of the beastkin's sincerity, which was a handful of subtribunes and the few centurions forced to join the subbies' debating, we were finally ready to move.

I could tell that the centurions didn't want to be there for the discussions, but the spring tribunes didn't have much experience with combat. Getting ahead of any stupid ideas they might form in their collective head was a good idea. Not that the sacrificed centurions had to do much while their fellows were doing the real work of getting the legionaries ready to move, as the only idea the subtribunes had was to try and send out a pulse calling for orders.

After I told them — each of them… a few times — they finally believed me the beastkins could block mental energy. Or they finally accepted that if they were going to get a response, they would have gotten one by now. Who knew what the correct answer was?

Kanieta knew. And so did I.

Because she told me the beastkin were blocking telepathic communication to prevent the legion from getting any bad ideas. She was trying to lower the tensions, not raise them, and the 15th charging the Northern Fort in a needless gesture would not accomplish that. After all, she was going to let the prisoners go, and more death at this point was counterproductive. Or that was what she said. How this situation would really happen was still to be seen…

I — and everyone else I talked to — just could not see what she got from lying to us. Kanieta could have us all killed at any time. Under these circumstances, without our weapons, our fight would be futile, and that was against normal beastkins. Not these super-powered magical ones.

After everyone was organized and those who couldn't walk were collected by those who could, I found myself at the head of the column. Everyone was tense as we looked at the wall of armed beastkins, no more than two dozen feet away, blocking our path.

The tension built on our side, and I could see the beastkins shifting as they readied themselves for a fight in response. Whether their movements were conscious or not, it only served to ratchet up the tension as the legionaries noticed and reacted in kind.

"This is going to shit fast," I muttered to myself.

"Ha," barked Centurion Hella next to me. The man had been sticking close to me since I arrived before the prisoners. He said I had 'the smell of a survivor' around me, and I was good luck to be around.

I did not miss his hands and, more specifically, his knuckles as I studied him. His blond hair was cut short on the sides and only slightly long on top, and he didn't look bad for his age and rugged looks, but his hands were those of a pugilist. Despite his small stature, he was a fighter, and I doubted anyone had underestimated him more than once. However, the second opportunity to underestimate the man was wholly dependent on whether the offender lived through their terminal case of bad judgment the first time.

The short and sweet of it was that the centurion was my watchdog, not that I cared too much, as he wasn't bad company. "Well," Centurion Hella said after a moment, "Someone better get to it."

I turned to him with squinted eyes, but he wasn't even looking at me. He was cleaning some dirt and blood out from under his nails with a sliver of wood and a bored expression. Seconds passed as my eyes drilled into him without a response. I was starting to question if I had even heard him speak…

Sighing, I looked down the street, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward, ignoring the smirk on Hella's lips. Sweat gathered on my back as I took the first step, and the attention of thousands settled onto me. I stopped for a fraction of a second as the weight settled onto my mind. It was like I was actively trying to feel the other's emotions, but I wasn't doing anything of the sort. I could suddenly just feel it all.

Like I was hit in the head with a sledgehammer, my thoughts became slow and sluggish, but the idea of forming a mental shield sent a shiver of phantom pain down my spine. However, I didn't have another choice, as a wave of weakness swept through me as my foot came down, causing me to stumble forward as my leg couldn't hold my weight. Shoving back the collective will boring into me, I gathered my willpower and closed off my mind while ignoring the jab of pain in my head. It might hurt and make me a little dizzy to form a mental shield, but doing nothing would have left me unconscious.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

After taking a few staggering steps forward, I stopped, hunched over, and sniffed at the liquid in my nose while wiping at it with my hand. I looked at the blood and tasted the copper tang in the back of my throat before standing straight again.

The spikes of concern, amusement, and curiosity made my knees weak again, but I was half expecting it and could push it aside. The shielding around my mind wavered, but after a moment to collect myself, the emotions slid off me like water pouring over a rock. Continuing my walk on pure willpower, I took a few more steps before the ranks of the beastkins fell back.

This wasn't them cowering in fear from my incredible mental powers or a strategic scattering to avoid the charge of the bloody and bruised legionaries behind me. No, this wasn't anything so grand on our part.

The beastkins pulled back in good order, in what could nearly be considered a legion standard. Not that the comparison is fair. How could the beastkins compete with a century of men who practically share the same mind? But the fact they are anything close is beyond impressive.

I slowed my steps to match their pace, as I didn't want to show signs of pressing them, and the legionaries behind me shuffled forward at the same speed. Slowly and steadily, we marched down the street in unison.

With me in the middle between the two groups, we traveled from the middle of the Northern Fort to the bridge that connected to the other sides of the rivers. I looked at the destruction inflicted on the fort. Images of the intact buildings I spent years walking between flashed across my mind. It made me feel… nothing.

I just didn't care. I was mildly curious about how many people got out on the boats, but it was more out of a professional curiosity. The actual legionnaires themselves, beyond their usefulness in any potential fighting, I wasn't that concerned for their survival.

While talking to Kanieta and watching her through the morning, I overheard some beastkin bring up the subject of the escaping legionaries. She threw a look at me before telling them to push back the knights and burn any barges they could before moving on to another topic.

I'm sure they got hundreds out, but far more — as was made apparent by the line of people behind me — were either unconscious or unable to escape the encirclement. We really don't have any reliable information network once our union breaks. I thought before focusing on what really mattered, putting forward one foot after another.

Holding the mental shield in place while walking was far more challenging than it should have been, and my throbbing head was getting worse by the minute, but I was managing. Besides, some rest should heal me right up, and what could I expect after everything I had been through?

Putting my head down and gritting my teeth, I pushed through the pain, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. I blinked in surprise, my eyes snapping to the rapid movements playing out before me. The beastkins in the formation flowed to the sides of the square in front of the gatehouse, blocking the northern bridge.

Saying the gates were open would be technically correct. The stone gates were smashed to pieces, and the steel portcullis was ripped from the roof and was lying twisted in the passage. So… open? Sure, I guess it was, but it won't be able to close again.

I slowed briefly but continued forward, not changing my pace or direction. The shuffling of feet behind me picked up for a second, but it quickly died down with a few shouts to get back in line. Not many of those back there could move at a run, and if they started rushing forward now, someone would be trampled or left behind.

As soon as I stepped onto the bridge, I heard shouts of surprise. I could see those on the walls of the Middle Fort gesturing to me, but something wasn't quite right. Looking back, I saw a blurred shimmer in the air, enveloping the gate and everything inside. Even the sound of marching I had grown accustomed to was gone.

Turning, I smiled as I looked at the Middle Fort and continued striding up the bridge, waiting. Silence slammed down on the fort all at once as I heard the first ranks of the legionaries coming out of the gates behind me. The silence held firm until I was a quarter of the way up the bridge, then the damn broke, and those defending the fort cheered so loud that it shook the air.

The cheering never stopped as more and more legionaries came out of the Northern Fort, and the line filling the bridge grew. By the time we were halfway to the Middle Fort's gates, they were thrown open, and figures were wildly waving us forward like we were desperately fleeing some pursuer.

When I was within a hundred yards of the entrance, figures on horseback rode into view. I squinted as I felt a mild pain from the light glaring off their armor, but I continued to study the important-looking people. Because you know… important people need attention to remain alive. I wouldn't want them to die or anything.

My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes widened in shock as I saw the purple stripes running down the side of the pants of two of the figures on horseback. Only the Prefect and Legatus of the legion had purple stripes signifying their rank, as our legion didn't qualify politically for a tribune latic to be appointed. More accurately, the political creatures that comprise that office would ensure they weren't ever sent here, so one was never appointed.

Moving to salute my commanders, I froze as thunks of metal hitting stone sounded around me. Knights had fallen from the sky and stood like impassive guardians carved out of steel. I felt a twinge in my mind as large chest-sized stones rose from behind the walls and moved to hover over the heads of the knights.

My mind flashed with disbelief as I looked at my commander and fellow legionaries about to attack me. Even those on the walls cheering a moment before had quieted down and drawn their bows, looks of growing fury covering their faces.

Why would they att— Oh. Shit. They think we are an illusion…

"Legatus Panta!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, "I am Scout Green! I come with a message from the leader of the Redtail Faction of the Kin and a gesture of goodwill." I waved to the line of legionaries behind me, indicating to them, "She wishes to open peace talks between our nations."

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and sweat began to bead on my brow. A second was an eternity to one in a mental link, so long as they were willing to use mental energy, and I would bet my life that they were doing that now. When the pressure reached the point where I thought my heart would stop, a wave of relief passed through me as a voice ordered, "Come forward alone and relay the message."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.