Legio IX Hispania (21) (Patreon)

Marcus had not become the Legatus because he was a fool, or unskilled in the conversational arts. His role was as much a negotiator as it was a strategist. The man wearing his robe was meant to be a senator, after all.

Lightning Dust was none of those things. She was a practical creature, speaking in simple terms of what her nation had lost and what the “ponies” wanted. What depths would they plumb achieve those goals?

Her simplicity was a kind of savvy. She knew exactly what she wanted, and wouldn't entertain elaborate tricks or vague promises to make it happen. In the end, he had to promise a great deal. The senate would compare him to Nero, if he ever returned to report to them.

But if this worked, he might very well return in the sky, carried aloft by a winged beast as magnificent as the Pegasus himself.

"So let me... try to understand," she said, about an hour later. "Ponies can either volunteer as auxiliaries, or join your legion. Auxiliaries can leave after any battle they like, but the ones who join are stuck. Until the war is over. In exchange, the recruits will be... citizens. Your equals. The others will be free, but have fewer... rights."

He nodded. "You can't yet know the honor that is. Only citizens are fit to serve in my legion. I will grant your citizenship as soon as you are given your first assignment. But just as my men, you will not be free to end your service until it is complete."

"And the war ends... when Equestria is free?"

He nodded. "I am told there are three tyrants to overthrow. Many cities and lands must be liberated. One legion is mighty, but not mighty enough to accomplish such a task. I will need to organize others, to dig in roots, fill the openings left in my armies. If we are successful, I imagine whole legions with fewer... riders, as you call us."

She opened those great wings, showing many of the same signs of agitation he'd seen in messenger birds, and trained falcons. The horse had argued for a great deal, now she wondered if she could somehow get more from him.

"Many wish to help, yet... not fight. What about them?"

"The legion requires grain, metal, gold... all manner of resources. I would leave them behind, to take up their expert professions and sustain our advance from the rear."

"Not me, though. Tirek took... everything. Thought I might never feel the clouds again, thanks to him. I want payback. Want to see Equestria the way it was, even if that means getting bloody. I'll sign up today, as soon as I tell everypony else. Just tell me where you want me."

He grinned. Would the goddess be pleased with his success? More importantly—how would he know when his divine ally no longer shared his goals? 

The gods were powerful and wise, yet every story he knew of them told him they had their own agendas, rivalries and schemes that wielded mortals as cudgels and pawns. That would be him and the legion, if he took his eyes away from his purpose.

"I asked if you could carry a rider," he said. "You're a leader among your kind, and I the Legatus of this legion. If I am to retake such a large nation, I will need to travel quickly—to see battles from high above, and intervene where required. Would you be willing?"

She turned on him, looking him up and down. "You look strong... for something your size. Could you hold on? I've been on the ground a long time. I want to fly fast."

"We have saddles, as you've seen. And you would need to fly where I order. Beyond that—you're the expert. I know nothing of the upper air. I will be your diligent student in those spaces." He turned away, gesturing at a large stack of waiting pages on the table. "Each of these? Marks of release, for the dead. The dues of the Empire to be paid to their wives and children upon our return. We have bled for this conquest already, Lightning Dust. You and yours will bleed and die too."

She followed him to the desk, flicking at the pages with her wing. She had surprising dexterity with those feathers, enough to turn the pages without scattering them. "We know that. We've been bleeding for years, since they took over. But if we can fight for a future when we're not slaves to someone else—a future where Equestria is free and safe again—then it's worth fighting for, even dying for. So long as we get to fight beside you, not ahead of you. We won't be fodder."

Marcus nodded his agreement. "Have I not been a man of oaths? When I covenant with you, Rome does likewise. What I have said, I will do."

She left soon after. Marcus left the tent to watch, to verify with his own eyes what the centurion had said. Sure enough, the mare took to the air after only a few steps, ascending with a grace almost supernatural. 

The scribe emerged from the tent just behind him, holding a heavy scroll in one shaking hand. "I heard only your half of that conversation, Legatus. Are these the terms you offer?"

He took it, skimmed it over, then passed it back. "Very good. Bring me the first centurion of the second cohort, and the captain of my knights. Also, Lucius. We will soon have many new souls to organize."

It took until afternoon meal before his desired group was assembled. Not as fast as the ponies were coming—the road outside the command tent was already dense with them. Hundreds of them—mostly stallions, though not all. Some had wings, some horns, and some neither. All had marks on them, colorful brands of ownership to whatever strange god created this land.

"I am... uncertain of your desires, Legatus," his old friend said, once he had read the orders. "Even with all you've shown us—you can't possibly expect them to join legions. Clever beasts, yet beasts nevertheless."

"We have real shortages of men," said the other centurion. His cohort were his engineers, with the largest number of skilled specialists. Consequently, they fought less than any other. "Unless we can hope for strength from Rome..."

"We cannot. Yet there are many natives who wish to help. I suspect there are men among the servants and slaves of each legion who would accept promotion to auxiliary. Their work could be done by minotaurs instead, and volunteers of the ponies. We will create new auxiliary cohorts, made from men and Equestrian alike. Perhaps minotaurs as well, if any are willing to take the oath."

Nervous laughter passed through the tent. Even Lucius met his eyes. "What you suggest... will not be easy. We will need a place to train them. We will need translators to relay orders between the natives. Digging fortifications is one thing, but a legion cannot run on grunts and gestures."

"So it is." He looked to the other centurion. "Dodge will be that place. Create a training facility suited for the abilities of these creatures, as well as any men who wish to rise from our ranks. Accommodations for the families whose wives were among the legion’s followers should be considered as well."

The man met his eyes, a faint smile on his face. He seemed to be waiting for Marcus to tell him of the jest—but he would be waiting a very long time.

"We will need... cement, stone, iron, steel, brass, lead... many things, Legatus."

"And you will have them all." He stood from his seat. "I will see to all. But first, the matter of translation. I must speak with the scholars."

The scholars in question grew more successful every day. Their tent was very near to his—ordinarily a strange place of honor for such a lowly profession in war. But their latest scheme required some of his time and was yet the only one to bring success.

The process involved several of his best linguists, from the legion and its followers both. That meant a handful of foreigners were present, even a few women. 

Their success could not be denied, however. In such times, he would accept whatever strange requirements brought the legion its victory.

On one half of the tent, scholars with their pens. On the other, volunteer ponies, each claiming to be scholars of their own sort. They were older, weaker creatures, and all had horns.

"Commands today," said one of his scholars, as he entered. "I have a list of common orders given to a contubernium while at war."

He took it, skimming quickly over the block letters. "Advance," he said. 

"Advance," one of the ponies repeated back to him. His own scholars scribbled furiously, representing the word given by ponies. "Advance," one of them would say, and ponies did likewise.

He now spent at least an hour this way every day. With each session, a table of terms and simple phrases grew between Latin and “Equian.”

"If I may," one of the unicorns interrupted the usual flow, raising his foreleg in a similar way to a man. "I have something that may interest you, Legatus."

Marcus raised one hand to ease the nervous scholar at the center of the room. "Yes, Lampblack?"

The pony shifted nervously, tail whipping against the floor. "Since we received our magic, we have... experimented. There are spells for linguistics, as you've experienced. I have a friend who... used to be quite the hobbyist with spells. He believes he can grant your ability to others."

Marcus stood up, eyes widening. "That is fantastic news. If it can be done, we'll begin with my officers, then spread it to every member of—"

The unicorn cleared his throat, pawing at the floor. "Forgive me, Legatus. It is... a difficult, costly endeavor. Even with our power returned, he may only be able to cast it once each day. Assuming, of course, you were willing to let him try."

And if one unicorn could do it—others might be able to follow! He fought back his excitement at the prospect. Much of that was selfish, anyway. It would be good for there to be others who heard as he did. He would need someone he could trust first, then move to those centurions who trusted him least. After that... translators."

"Sir?" asked Servius Julius Scaevola, the scholar at the center of the room. "What is the pony saying? It seemed too complex for our list of commands."

"He's saying, I don't think you'll need to wait on me to run this going forward. Servius, Lampblack. Let's put this unicorn to the test."

The unicorn in question was an orange and yellow stallion of slim build and nervous disposition, taking shelter in the basement of Dodge's library. He introduced himself as Sunburst, before explaining a complex diagram scribbled on the wall in charcoal. 

"Not a word of that penetrated my skull, sir," Marcus said, when there was a brief respite in his explanation. "I do not believe I'm qualified to understand. I wish to see a demonstration instead. This man here—he is your volunteer."

"I would feel better if I had heard the explanation," Servius said, shifting nervously in his dusty toga. "I cannot see how this Pythagorean nightmare could somehow produce a man who can comprehend another tongue."

"Feel free to listen in great detail, after it works," Marcus said. He waved to the stallion. "Let's see this delivers what it promises."

"Yes. Well... forgive me, it may take a moment. I was more of a student of the theoretical than the practical. But in desperate times..." His horn glowed, turning brilliant gold. Marcus's honor guard turned towards the door, and one even moved to rush inside. Marcus raised a hand, gesturing for them to halt.

The unicorn muttered something—words, a poem. He couldn't quite make them out. I would never have indulged such a display on our arrival. What does he think he is, an oracle? Equestria had forced him to change his view on a great many things, however.

With a final burst of light, the spell was complete. Sunburst collapsed to his haunches, huffing and wheezing from the apparent exertion. 

Servius looked entirely unmoved at first. What difference should he expect from a supernatural means to understand language? "How do you feel?"

Then his white hair changed, growing in thick, deep orange. Even the wrinkles on his face seemed to fade, his skin less sagging with age. 

"Remarkable." Servius stared across the room, attention fixed on the unicorn. "I've never felt anything like it. Remarkable!"

Sunburst grinned through his exhaustion. "It worked! We can't be certain for how long. You might not have enough latent magic to sustain its effects. But it should lay down patterns in your mind similar to studying a language conventionally. Repeated casting should make it permanent, eventually."

"Remarkable," Servius said again. "Do all ponies talk this quickly?"