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A Soldier's Life - 418 - Medicus Of The First Legion (minor edits 7-8-25)
🕑 Added 2025-07-06 01:47:41 +0000 UTCChapter 418: Medicus Of The First Legion
I don’t think the boy recognized us. He was older now; it had been nearly two years, and he looked more like a teenager than the orc boy I remembered. His orcish features showed a muscular build and confidence that he lacked when we first found him hiding in the mud. It was some relief that he had made his way here, and I could tease Raelia about him joining the Sentinels. She had wanted to kill the young necromancer for the threat he might pose. I searched for his name in my memory: Topher…Toby…Tovin, that sounded right.
That orc, dressed in heavy gray robes and seated at the end of the table, was the one Benito recognized. My companions didn’t recognize the other man, who looked familiar to me. He was wearing the same mask he had worn when we first met. Seeing only his eyes, I couldn’t tell if he recognized me. His thin gray robes covered his body, and you couldn’t see the translucent skin underneath. Castile said there was a chance I might cross paths with him, and it took me a moment to remember who she thought he was and what he was.
Caracalla Lepidus. Castile and Viridia believed he was a medicus in the First Legion from two thousand years ago. His face had been burned with magical fire and was scarred, a mark in the annals of history. They guessed he had become a revenant to live this long, and he was serving Antonia in an attempt to save the Telhian Empire from destroying itself. That raised new questions about why the Sentinels were harboring an undead.
Durgin was handling the introductions and had just finished with the elves. “We also picked up one of the youngest necromancers in quite some time. Even younger than that savant orc lad.” Tovin stiffened, his gaze narrowing as the dwarf gestured toward Evie. “Might be just as strong with death magic, too,” Durgin added with a hint of pride. With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he announced, “I present to you—Evie Maguire.” Evie stepped back under the weight of fifteen adult gazes.
Durgin had paused, and the High Sentinel got impatient. “The halfling?” A deep, resonant voice came from the High Sentinel. He was an elf from appearances, but his musculature was more defined than any elf I had ever seen. His thick neck and defined, chiseled jaw told of strength beneath his gray robes.
“Lesna Dewglen,” Durgin said, annoyed at being rushed. He clearly had a familiarity with this council. “Elyssara reported she was one of the most skilled shapers she had met in her long years. A very competent illusionist scout who could be an asset to expeditions sent to the Isle,” Durgin said rapidly. Lesna had made up “Dewglen” when she registered in Veilmark. I wasn’t the only one of my companions who caught the statement that they sent expeditions to the Isle, as I glanced uncertainly at Blaze. Why would they need to travel to the Isle of the undead?
“The large brute is Eryk Marko. One of the most skilled swordsmen on the continent, according to Solvar. Maybe you could show him he's not the best, Fenlorian,” Durgin said in a mock challenge to his commander. The High Sentinel’s eyes focused on me. His pale blue gaze seemed to look straight into my soul. My nerves tingled with an icy coldness, and I felt something tapping on my mind fortress spell form, but not pressing too hard.
“Perhaps,” was all he said, and nodded for the dwarf to continue.
“The tall, lean one is Blaze Neptune, master of the bow. Few can match his precision. At his side is Benito Vesta, small in stature but fierce in spirit. His blade dances with deadly grace. On deck, I watched too many of our own underestimate him.” Benito seemed confused that he had such an austere introduction.
I was caught slightly off guard by the casual familiarity of our introduction. We had spent considerable time with the dwarf, but this still felt unexpectedly informal for such an occasion. “Thank you for coming to Sanctuary,” the High Sentinel said, his voice deep and measured. “Although you now reside within our city, it remains to be seen whether you are fit to stay.” Benito stiffened, clearly ready to respond, but Lesna placed a hand on his arm and held him from speaking.
“The big one is not fit to be a Sentinel,” the man in the mask said. I turned to look behind me, even though I knew he was talking about me.
Fenlorian turned to the masked man, surprise on his stern face. “Really? He has not even been tested, and you are disqualifying him already?”
“He has already been marked,” the masked man said. That got inquisitive gazes not just from the other fourteen men around the table but also from my companions. It left no doubt in me that the man at the table was the bone inscriber.
“How do you know without testing him?” Someone else, the only human among their number, asked the bone inscriber.
In his dry monotone, he answered. “Because I was the one who marked him. A man can only be marked once—unless you want to cut off both of his arms and regrow them.” I couldn’t see through the mask, and his tone was monotone like the first time I had met him, but for some reason, I assumed he was smiling.
“You marked his arms and not his skull? What was the purpose of…” Someone else started to say, but Fenlorian struck the table, and it thudded, causing the man to stop talking.
“That will be his decision. If he cannot bear the mark, then he can return to Nausis next time the Salty Widow sails,” Fenlorian declared in a tone of finality, ending the discussion. “For now, you are all welcome.” A smile appeared on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Rest the remainder of today, and tomorrow you will be oriented and given roles in Sanctuary.” He gestured that we were dismissed, and they waited till we left before resuming their discussion.
Evie pressed close beside me and whispered, “I think most of them were necromancers.” I glanced down at her as we followed Durgin through the corridor. She caught the look and added, “I could feel it. They’re not tainted with death essence, but… I can tell.” Her voice dropped even lower. “There’s something strange about the man in the mask. It felt like he wasn’t really there.” I gave a slight nod but raised a hand to signal her to silence. Whatever that mask was, it might not just be for theatrics—it could be a powerful artifact.
“How many Sentinels are there?” Blaze asked as we crossed the plateau with Durgin leading us.
Durgin shrugged, “Fifteen hundred. Maybe a bit less. Maybe a bit more. We add a dozen or so every voyage and lose about the same.”
“How do you lose them?” Lesna asked incredulously.
Durgin seemed to hesitate in answering. “A few head back to the mainland. A few die of old age. And a few who go to the Isle and don’t return.”
“I thought you only watched the Isle? Why do you need to set foot on it?” I questioned. Nothing seemed to be what it appeared now that we were here.
“We need to track the number of undead creatures developing aether cores. We can only do that by exploring the island. Don’t worry, the expeditions are infrequent and small, typically consisting of eight or nine people. They push into the interior during the day and retreat before nightfall. You probably won't be asked to join one for many years.” The dwarf winked at Lesna. “I was just teasing you when I introduced you.” He paused outside a three-story building on the southern tip of the plateau.
“You can find an empty room in there,” Durgin indicated the building. “The quartermaster will come by and get your sizes for clothes. There is a larder in the basement and a community kitchen for initiates. Clean up after yourselves, as messy roommates always make people grouchy.”
“That’s it?” Benito asked, somewhat apprehensive at the brief tour.
“What do you mean? You’re in Sanctuary now,” he said with a sigh. “Things move a little slower here—relaxed, you know? When you’ve got folks who live for centuries, there’s rarely a rush.” He gave a half-grin. “You’ll still have your classes, and you’ll be assigned duties. But you’re not going anywhere… unless you fancy a swim to the Isle of the Dead.”
“When do we get tattooed?” Benito asked, more eagerly than he should have to be indoctrinated into a cult. He had been admiring the sailor’s ink on the voyage and the prestige it gave them.
“You need to earn your Sentinel mark, boy. Give it time, and I am sure it will happen.” Durgin seemed eager to leave, his simple orientation duties completed.
The elves had already entered the building. We paused at the entrance, examining the common room, which was half kitchen and half sitting area. It didn’t have the feel of a tavern but more like a communal house. The elves were already heading up the stairs, and Lesna voiced her anxiety watching them go. “They are going to get the best rooms.”
“Go,” I relented, and Benito, trusting Lesna’s word that there were only so many good rooms to go around, was the first to the stairs. Lesna and Evie were right behind. This left Blaze and me alone just outside the building. We both scanned the plateau, where maybe fifty Sentinels went about their daily business, and five children were playing. Did the children receive the same mark?
“This is one place I definitely never thought I would be. Being here takes all the mystery out of it. It seems so normal.” He spun, taking in the buildings on the perimeter of the plateau. “Besides the fact that we are on a mountain in the middle of a raging sea, living with elves, and there is a horde of undead just a few miles away.” He smiled to go with his sarcasm.
“You want to know about the man in the mask?” I said that after Blaze seemed to be waiting for something.
“If you want to share,” he said indifferently, but I knew him, and it was a burning question for him.
I took a breath. “Castile and I had a spell form etched onto our bones so we could fool the Truthseekers if needed. That man in the mask is the one who did it,” I admitted. I trusted Blaze with my life, and if he had betrayed me, I don’t think I would have been able to handle it.
“So they are going to do the same thing, but to our skulls?” I shrugged as that was the impression I got from the interaction. “I am so glad I decided to come along,” he said sarcastically.
I called after him. “Make sure all our rooms are close together.”
I Inhaled and watched the people. Blaze was right that it seemed so normal. The children felt so out of place as they played a type of ball and stick game that resembled lacrosse. I was going to make dinner for everyone, but the masked man was walking toward me at an unhurried pace.
When he reached me, I asked with some snark, “Are you here to cut off my arms?”
His dry, unemotive speech made it hard to read the man. “There are other people who handle that, and you would probably want to have the healers close by to avoid bleeding out. The High Sentinel asked me to retrieve you. He wishes to speak to you privately.”
Blaze had already gone up the stairs, and since no one was in the common room, they wouldn't know where I went. I considered the possibility of betrayal, but it seemed unlikely. “Are you from the First Legion?” I asked in Latin, hesitating to go with him.
He hesitated before responding. “I am. I was once called Caracalla Lepidus. I was the First Medicus of the Legion of the Lion.”
He had confirmed Castile’s suspicions. “How many of you are left from the First Legion?” I asked.
“What a curious question.” He tilted his head, studying me before answering. “As far as I know, three remain on Desia. Are you coming?”
“Are you all undead?” I asked, but I still wasn't following him.
He tilted his head to the other side, and it looked more creepy than he probably realized, since his body was so still. “I have answered enough of your questions this evening. You will follow.” He turned and didn’t wait as he walked back toward the administration building.
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Comments
M.A.C.
And it is still disappointing to think how little introspection the protagonist has, the story is pretty good but apparently the author is not learning from his mistakes.
M.A.C.
Meh, at this point why don't you write about the protagonist defeating evil with the power of love and friendship? What a disappointment of chapter, more than 400 chapters and we still do not have clear the principles by which the protagonist moves, in his day was more than justified the death of that child.
Azwrix
Mmmm Topher the NecroOrc
