Luciano stepped off the ship as soon as it was his turn to disembark. The wooden ramp groaned under his boots as the morning mist parted before him. The riverbank was wide, muddy, and bordered by a thick forest that stretched in all directions. Thousands of people waited for orders.
The first soldiers were already unloading crates, tools, and the standards of the new army. The air was filled with tense voices, hurried footsteps, and the clanking of metal against metal. But when Luciano touched firm ground, those closest instinctively straightened up.
Luciano took a deep breath, assessed the terrain, and spoke without turning his head:
—Renzo.
Captain Dellamar appeared at his side almost immediately, light in his movements, with his bow slung across his back and three scouts following him. He was in charge of the legion's mixed brigade, with reconnaissance being one of his various responsibilities.
—Here —he replied with a barely contained smile.
Luciano pointed to the forest.
—I want a fan-shaped sweep to the north and east. Nothing deep, two kilometers maximum. Signs of settlements, large animal routes, and if you find anything walking on two legs, report it to me before you breathe.
Renzo nodded, already turning to give orders.
—As you command.
Luciano then raised his gaze to the massive figure of Ariston Malvus, who was descending from the ship with his usual severe expression. He was the commander of the heavy infantry, and Luciano's childhood friend.
—Ariston.
The tribune approached, adjusting his cloak.
—What do you need?
Luciano pointed to the forest again, but this time to the nearest trees.
—I want a perimeter. Wide. Cut down the tall pines and the border oaks, nothing more for now. We need wood for palisades, watchtowers, and a central square before nightfall. Organize six centuries to cut and drag logs. The others will be in rotation to protect the lumberjacks.
Ariston gave a deep grunt of approval. —You'll have it.
Luciano took a few steps along the wet sand, watching as the first soldiers began organizing makeshift piles of crates and barrels. Amidst the disciplined chaos, he saw the man he needed: Magistrate Ovidio Telmar, with his tablets, pens, and an assistant trying not to drop a chest of wax seals.
—Ovidio. —Luciano's voice was enough for the magistrate to stop scolding his helpers and straighten up.
—Here, lord Luciano —he replied with a hasty bow.
Luciano pointed to the ships, the coast, and the rows of soldiers unloading.
—I need an immediate inventory. Everything that left the port must be on a list, and I need to know what is missing, what was damaged, and what we have left that is useful.
—I understand. I will activate the entire logistics cohort and part of the administrative one. I will have a first report before the sun sets, a more complete second one by dawn.
Luciano took a moment, knowing that he could do nothing but wait and trust his subordinates; they were men and women who had accompanied him for years to the most desperate and bloody battlefields against the barbarians who ravaged the Republic.
It took the legion only a few hours to restore organization throughout the area, with the beachhead expanding another hundred meters for a wide view of the surroundings and the start of a proper camp.
Captain Renzo Dellamar Pov:
Locating oneself in a forest was always complex, even for the most experienced, and those dangers only increased when it was an unknown forest. That is why Renzo understood Luciano's decision when he forbade entry to anyone who was not part of his scout brigade. This made Renzo feel proud, as his commander had entrusted a great responsibility only to him.
At first, everything was as expected from a forest—some game animals here and there—but soon news arrived from his scouts about some ruins not far from the forest with what appeared to be barbarians inhabiting them. The report had already been unusual when Renzo was told they were painted green, but no one knew better than them how strange some tribes outside the Republic could be.
Renzo set out with a large group of experienced hunters toward the ruins. Although communication was expected, few tribes would look kindly upon a Republic army near their homes.
As they approached, the forest seemed to close in on them. Light barely penetrated the canopy of the tall, twisted trees, and the sounds of the forest seemed amplified, creating a feeling of constant surveillance. The group advanced cautiously, crossing small clearings and certain rudimentary traps carelessly placed by the locals, which, in the eyes of any of the twenty hunters following him, seemed to have been placed by an idiot.
Finally, they emerged into a clearing where structures stood partially ruined, with stone walls covered in moss and rotten wood hanging like debris; they were not structures anyone had ever seen. And there they were: the green individuals, moving among the ruins in a clumsy and careless manner.
They had barely bothered to fortify the place with a few stakes here and there, but Renzo knew that whatever they were, they were not human. Their height was barely that of a Republic teenager, and they looked as thin as a child, with pointed ears and tusks protruding from their mouths.
Renzo instantly lowered his hand, ordering everyone to withdraw. Any confrontation with whatever the creatures were did not seem difficult, but the ruins seemed to continue into the earth's interior, and if they were outnumbered in the forest, they had little chance of escaping.
So Renzo decided to leave a few men monitoring the area while he withdrew to the camp.
The sun had not yet finished setting when Luciano summoned the leaders and representatives of the 6,154 souls who had shared the same destiny to the center of the makeshift camp. The beach was covered with tents, but due to the storm some supplies had been lost and some makeshift tents were made with the ships' sails. The smell of damp wood, salty rope, and exhausted bodies floated in the air.
In the center, a wide table made with planks ripped from a transport ship that had sunk served as the council table. On top, a rough map drawn by the explorers showed the little they knew about their location: a coastline, red hills across the sea from where they were, and thick forests. Nothing more.
Tiberius Varenius, his uncle, had been by his side from the beginning; his men had been few initially and only needed a few instructions to organize, so he tried to decipher with Luciano what had happened and what part of the world they were in. Renzo arrived right after along with Ariston.
Helena Varco arrived immediately after. Her crimson armor reflected the reddish light of the sunset. She greeted them with a minimal bow and took her seat without waiting for permission. She represented 800 female warriors, which had been the cause of debate and many complications for Luciano, as although it was not the first time the Republic used women in its ranks, they had always been a title for the pleasure of the nobles and not a cohort of them.
Then it was the turn of Sura of Iron, who entered covered in soot from the morning's work. She was the coordinator of the hundreds of workers employed by the Legion; engineers, artisans, blacksmiths, and even shepherds were under her charge.
Orus Cadenza arrived wearing sky-blue silk, accompanied by two guards with oriental masks. A successful merchant who had decided to follow Luciano in his campaign, all his success was due to the exclusivity of products that came out of his company—things no one in the Republic had ever seen. His retinue of sixty people made him a walking economic power.
After him, Lictor Cassania took a seat with a calm demeanor. The Administrative Cohort—jurists and scribes—was the only reason there were still laws among this multitude and not just brute force.
Ovidio was the last to arrive, who did not bother to greet anyone while still focused on his accounts and reports.
—Renzo —Luciano said, somewhat surprised as he continued reading the report that had arrived in his hands moments before—, inform everyone what your men discovered nearby.
The captain stepped forward. He had rushed his arrival from the forest to the camp, still having branches clinging to his cloak.
—This forest is unlike any I have ever heard of or known. The creatures living here are beyond comparison. We found burrows formed in the very roots of the trees, and we heard howls that belong to no animal we know. In the heights… —he paused briefly, trying to clearly formulate his words— we found spiders the size of dogs, some weaving their nests in the crown of the oldest trees.
A murmur among some representatives was inevitable.
Renzo continued, without embellishment:
—But that is not the most worrying thing. We detected unknown creatures with a humanoid appearance. They move erratically, but are armed, and have taken refuge in some ruins two kilometers from here. We saw about ten on the surface, although we suspect they are not the only ones. The ruins seem to continue underground; collapsed structures, tunnels… possibly inhabited long ago.
Renzo shook his head serenely.
—We do not know. I decided that, given their appearance… —he touched the sketch with a finger, pointing to the dented helmets, the twisted spears— and the attire made of old leather, pieces of rusted armor, and rudimentary weapons, it was prudent to treat them as we treat any savage creature. Without provoking them.
Ariston Malvus cleared his throat.
—We must strike hard and ask questions later. We are new to these lands, and as my lord has instilled in us: ignorance is a sin paid for with blood. We cannot afford to be… kind, when we know nothing.
—For that reason —Renzo replied—, taking action now would be premature. The ruins are deep. Thousands more could be hiding inside. We only know of one entrance and have no idea of its interior layout. Attacking without knowing who our enemy is could be the first step towards a battle we cannot win.
The last comment soon sparked the expected reaction.
—A gutless coward —Ariston snorted, crossing his arms, his armor creaking from the movement—. My cohorts will barely even be tired by creatures like those. The tension in the meeting was palpable; the word coward was the greatest insult to a soldier of the Republic. The air in the tent crackled with the unspoken challenge, threatening to shatter the fragile discipline they had just established.