The walled village of Montegarico seemed like it had been abandoned for years, lonely and destitute under the orange glow of the setting sun. Still, it was a welcome refuge for the survivors of the Second Cohort.
Justus, along with Decani Constantina and Ferrutius, led the remains of their cohort into the settlement. With the loss of Zehr and one of Constantina's scouts, they were left with 63 men and women. Counting the Munifices, without the Immunes and those who were injured, it was barely half of the cohort.
It was the initial kobold assault that took the most men. Many didn't make it to the forest. Some did reach the tree line but took injury that ensured they didn't make it out. Others who made it... haven't been seen, since. Maybe they'd run off, deciding to free themselves of their mercenary contract. Maybe they were rotting in the trees, felled by a kobold spear or bolt.
Or maybe, just maybe, Zehr had saved them.
...If he was alive, anyroad.
Justus hoped he was. He didn't seem like he could die, but the fates were often cruel.
As the dusky glow cooled to a dim evening blue, the Second Cohort finally reached the town walls. The soldiers of the First Cohort met them with surprise more so than cheer.
They had met with their own difficulties, Justus was sure.
...not that it mattered to him. At this point, he didn't care for the glory. He just wanted to lay on the dirt someplace he didn't have to worry about being attacked in his sleep.
A thought occurred to him that Decanus Zehr had mentioned earlier...
It was sun's end and he had no tears left to cry.
Walking through the camp, Justus noted that at a cursory glance, it seemed the First Cohort had taken similar losses.
Justus found the notion inconceivable.
There were more veterans in the First Cohort. They had Equites. They had Iron-Rankers like the Primus Pilus and the Optio. They even had a Gold-Ranker!
Justus counted no more than 50 men and women in the camp. A few would be hidden away in their tents, but... he doubted their numbers would be substantial.
The wild-bearded Decanus Ferrutius gloated to every soldier he recognized. The cool-tempered, scarred Decanus Constantina silently judged all she saw.
Justus made sure the members of his tent group were treated at the infirmary. He was informed by the pink-haired Rhodok Gold-Ranker, Fortuna, that she would see to their treatments, herself.
He thought it was a gesture of kindness. Ferrutius informed him in unkind terms that the First Cohort just didn't have many survivors left to heal.
Gianna's shoulder injury would be fine with magical healing. The old immortal, Modestus, seemed to have strained his back. He'd probably be fine even without special care. Rena slept like a baby. The sun had been especially long for her...
Justus held a tiny hope that he'd find Decanus Zehr among the injured... but there were no signs of him.
Justus left the infirmary tents, walking into a gentle rain and into the hooded Decanus Constantina.
"Hey, you."
Justus looked around him. There was no one else Constantina could have been referring to.
He put on the friendliest smile he could, "Y... yes? Decanus?"
Constantina was easily the best scout in the cohort. She moved fast, had deadly aim with a longbow, and gave clear, precise orders.
However, she was known for having a shite personality. She was strict with her tent groups. She kept her thoughts quiet. She had a fearsome temper. And if the rumors were to be believed, she would cut off the genitals of anyone that mentioned the scar running from her chin, across her lips, and to her nose.
Justus was trying very hard not to stare.
...He thought her scar was attractive, though.
"The Primus Pilus calls for you," the woman said, no trace of emotion in her eyes.
Justus pursed his lips, "O-okay."
The hooded woman continued to stand in front of him. With the falling rain marking the passing of time, it made him anxious.
"Was there anything else, Decanus Constantina?" Justus smiled sheepishly.
"...I'm only going to say this once." She glared, "If it wasn't for you and Zehr, we wouldn't have made it."
"O... oh," Justus was stunned.
The woman turned and walked off with wet footsteps, but the experience stuck with him. Maybe it was because he had suddenly found himself in a position where he was dealing with a lot of people he ordinarily had no business dealing with... Zehr, Ferrutius, Constantina... and now the head Centurion of the Rhodok adventuring company, the Primus Pilus.
He hurried over to the tent where the Rhodok flag flew the highest...
...
"I can't stand the arrogant tone of that Decanus Ferrutius." Optio Sixtus crossed his arms, his heavy gauntlets clanking against his plate armor, "Our company may be at only half its strength, but what makes him think he can say what he wants?"
Centurion Cyrac, the Primus Pilus, refilled his Optio's cup with wine, "Let him talk. Talk is cheap. And he's brought back the best news of the sun."
Sixtus frowned and took his seat at the table and took off his helmet, ruffling his short dark-brown hair in frustration... "We can't abandon the mission."
He grabbed his cup and took a long pull...
"I know..." Cyrac twirled the end of his white, curly beard, "We can't afford not to. We'll need to recruit after this..."
"And we need to at least pay off the pensions of the dead," Sixtus reminded.
"Indeed... Not so long ago, plenty of men died with regrets. Steady pay was the only thing keeping their wives and offspring from being sold into indentured servitude or prostitution..." Cyrac sighed.
Sixtus stared into his half-empty cup... "It's a good rule... but yes, it does not help our financial state."
Cyrac shook his head, "If we don't finish the mission, it'll take years to rebuild the company. And I doubt I have that much time left..."
Sixtus remained silent. The young Champion was in no rush to take over the company... but it was no secret that Centurion Cyrac was not growing younger.
Amidst the light rain, the sounds of muddy footsteps approached the tent, "Good evening, Primus Pilus! Decanus Justus requesting permission to enter!"
Sixtus raised an eyebrow, his cheeks already turning a ruddy hue from the wine, "Decanus Justus? We don't have a Decanus named Justus. Tch. What an absurd name."
Cyrac nodded to his Optio, "He's new. And he's likely to be more agreeable than Ferrutius or Constantina."
Sixtus pursed his lips to the side, "Don't get me started on that-- disagreeable woman."
Cyrac raised his voice, "Come in from the rain, Decanus. And do brush the mud from your sandals before entering."