I’ve never been much of a talker, choosing a life of relative isolation from people as a whole. I never considered myself particularly awkward around people as many of my fellow introverts were. I just enjoyed solitude at arms length. I liked the idea of people and them being nearby when convenient but I never sought them out either. I didn’t go to social gatherings like bars and clubs or small communities like churches. I had a couple good friends and my little brother to talk to. That had been enough.

  My “Escort” had not said much, the men on either side of me while the mage woman led the way. Apparently she held more authority than the Grizzled man or the War hammer man. I had about a million questions but I wisely kept my mouth shut. I didn’t have a need to feel the awkwardness of the situation with needless conversation. Though I was curious about one small thing that I felt wouldn’t hurt to ask

  I looked to the grizzled soldier who had kept me from dying in my first, and hopefully only engagement. “Thank you for keeping me alive.” I said to the scarred man.

  The stoic soldier looked at me as we walked and gave a slight nod. “Not the first green recruit I have ever seen but you seemed greener than most.” The mage woman leading the small group looked over her shoulder at the grizzled man giving him a look that made him mouth snap shut and a stern look cross his features.

  I winced slightly at getting the soldier even a minor reprimand. I genuinely wanted to thank the man. He had kept me alive in the fight. I am not sure if I had died on Earth before I came here but he had stopped me from dying for good a second time.

  I lowered my voice until it was a hoarse whisper. “What’s your name?” I asked. His eyes met mine and a scowl darkened his features. “Awfully bold of you to ask for my name when you won’t give your own.” He said planely, keeping his own voice low. The battle still raged and the sounds of combat kept their lowered voices from reaching the mage.

  “I would if I could, I physically can’t say it. It’s like something is keeping me from remembering it.” The grizzled soldier’s scowl deepend further. “We shall see if that is true or not.” I thought he might say more but apparently that was all he had to say on the matter.

  My heart raced and my palms began to sweat as we approached the ridge where the command tent was currently located. Two neat rows of knights in dull silver plate armor with immaculate navy tabards featuring the kaiju crest stood at the ready. I had thought it odd that the cohort of soldiers I had been fighting with had not been using any spears. The spear had been one of the main killing tools in a soldier's arsenal for thousands of years in Earth history. I now saw that nobody seemed to be using spears. The knights all carried swords, maces and war hammers.

  How did they handle cavalry charges or even an enemy cohort armed with spears? A spear gave reach and could keep the enemy at bay or even slip past their guard. Swords were great for close combat against lightly armored foes. So why doesn’t anyone have a spear?

  Without realizing it I had vocalized my question. The grizzled man scowled at me though to be fair his scowl had not lessened since I had tried speaking with him the first time. To my surprise the large war hammer wielding man spoke up. “The spear is a noble’s weapon.”

  I reflexively scrunched up my face in confusion. That had been nearly the exact opposite on Earth. The sword had been considered the weapon of choice for nobles on Earth. The grizzled soldier had turned his scowl to the war hammer wielding man but the large man just shrugged and gave an easy smile, completely unperturbed.

  I was about to ask a followup question but the conversation was cut short as we approached the line of soldiers. They blocked the only way to get up the ridge easily without having to backtrack to a less steep slope. The mage at the lead approached a soldier in the formation who had a smaller crimson crest on his helmet that looked more like a small mohawk than the more prominent crest of a centurion.

  The two spoke briefly and a moment later the soldier barked an order that caused the knights to quickly and orderly create a gap wide enough for them to walk through single file. The larger war hammer wielding soldier took a position behind me and the grizzled soldier took a position in front of me with the mage taking the lead of our little procession.

  The command tent had people constantly coming and going from it in a hurry though it appeared that most of the command staff was outside observing the battle. As we approached I found the man who I had briefly seen at the battle before he had left to get new orders. He raised an eyebrow at our approach and broke off from the officer group. He held his helmet in the crook of his arm and spoke briefly with the mage. His eyes snapped to me quickly as suspicion crossed his face.

  The centurion was a solid looking man. He wasn’t particularly tall but I wouldn’t call him short either. He did however look like a slab of human meat with muscles that his armor did not conceal well. He had a heavy scruff of a beard beginning to form and the skin around his eyes looked tight, as if he had not slept in days. I had not seen the man fight in our engagement, it had even soured my opinion of him a little at the time since he seemed too good to get his sword bloody but I now realized that was not the case.

  His tabard was covered in hastily repaired cuts and stains that likely were dried blood but it was hard to see in the navy fabric. His armor also sported dents and dings that looked like they had been hammered back out multiple times. In short, he didn’t look like someone to fuck with, not that I was about to.

  His dull gray eyes met mine as he spoke. “Who are you?” He said plainly and with an authority that broke no argument or funny business. I straightened a little as I tried to speak. “I…I don’t know, sir.”

  The centurion watched me with an unblinking gaze. I felt like his stare could strip paint. It was the gaze of a man who could break down a seasoned soldier in moments and get them to do whatever insane thing he was about to order.

  “Not good enough” He said simply. Though I had not been restrained so far, I felt the gaze of half a dozen people on me, ready to spring into action at a word from the centurion.

  “I swear I don’t know. It’s just gone. Like someone took my name from me.” His gaze broke from mine for the first time and went to the mage. She straightened slightly as he spoke “And you are certain he is not under an enchantment?”

  The mage nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. I cast several spells to ascertain if he had an enchantment and even a couple more obscure spells that would tell me if he had consumed something by alchemical means. Nothing so far as I can tell, though I am far from the most skilled or knowledgeable mage in the legion.”

  The centurion's eyes returned to me as he continued to speak to the mage. “I trust your assessment, Yrsa.” His gaze went to the grizzled soldier “When did you first see this man?” He asked the tough looking soldier. He snapped to attention and gave a traditional salute of his fist to his heart, bowing his head slightly.

  “Sir, during our second push into the Tarsenica lines. I thought one of our own had been left behind during the first push. He was laying on the ground like he had been injured. Legion protocol is to absorb any soldiers who have been separated from their unit.” Those had been the most words I had heard from the grizzled soldier since I had met him and his gravelly voice already sounded hoarse from the short explanation.

  He coughed into his hand in an attempt to clear his throat but it didn’t seem to help much and he continued. “He is not wearing any colors that would help determine his unit or cohort and frankly we didn’t have time to question him before the Tarsenicans made their push again. The third cohort's lines were beginning to buckle when we arrived so I gave him a sword and pointed him towards the enemy.”

  The centurion said nothing while the grizzled soldier recounted our first meeting. He had begun rubbing the stubble on his chin pensively. “And how did he conduct himself in the fight itself…?” He seemed to not remember the grizzled soldier's name but he quickly supplied it. “Lucanious, sir. As for how he conducted himself?” He turned to look at me, my spine straightening even more under the combined scrutiny. “Green sir. Very, very green. If I had to guess I would say he had not touched a sword before today. He had no form to speak of and had to have his hand held for him under the most simple of maneuvers.”

  I wanted to shrink away right then and there but I literally had nowhere to go. My instincts screamed at me to stay put so I did. Lucanious had not painted a very good picture of me so far and to be fair, he was one hundred percent right. Just as I was beginning to imagine me swinging from the gallows he spoke again. “But, when the enemy pressed against us, he didn’t run or break formation to protect himself. I witnessed him kill several Tarsenicans myself. It was sloppy work, but he fought the entire engagement without complaint, sir.”

  The large war hammer weilding man spoke up behind Lucanious. “Lucan's correct sir. I witnessed him fight and kill.” The eyes of the men I had killed flashed across my thoughts and I had to resist the urge to vomit. The centurion looked between the two veterans before looking at me. “He does look like he is ready to pop.” He said with zero humor in his eyes. “But this could all be an act. Though I fail to see how. Trying to hide in an auxiliary is not the way I would try to sneak into a legion.” That got the two veterans to chuckle lightly as confusion crossed my face.

  I decided to risk asking a question. “While I know my word means less than nothing to you right now, I’m no spy….sir.” belatedly adding the honorific. “Why does me joining an auxiliary matter?” The three soldiers and even the mage all exchanged glances with each other. “Only two types of people join an auxiliary, boy.” Lucan answered for the centurion. “Slaves seeking freedom and citizenship and criminals looking to clear their records.”

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  That made sense to a certain degree. Roman auxiliaries had a similar structure. If you served long enough in the legion, you could earn citizenship within the empire. It also explained why their equipment had been worse than the other cohorts he had seen. They got the scraps that the citizen soldiers didn’t want or no longer needed.

  The centurion fixed his gaze once more on me. “While I have my doubts about you being a spy, this hardly clears WHY you were here, on this battlefield, at this time. From what I’ve gathered, you are no soldier and if you are a spy, you failed almost immediately after attempting to blend in with our forces.” While I was taller than the centurion by a fair bit, he loomed over me.

  He got uncomfortably close to my face, “I may not know every name and face in my cohort, but you aren’t one of mine. Hells, you can’t even speak our language without a spell. Not every slave or outsider who joins the legion speaks Gorathian low or high common. But they don’t set foot onto the battlefield until they know the basics of Gorathian low.

  I noticed the attention of more than a couple of the centurions at the command tent had focused on our conversation. One of the guards standing at the entrance of the tent bared just the hint of steel as conversations died out.

  “I truly did not mean to interfere in your battle. I don’t even know where I am.” I said honestly. The centurion’s lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t play me for a fool. You may be green, but you are wearing OUR armor on OUR battlefield in OUR dukedom!” the centurion said, jamming his index finger painfully into my sternum despite the armor.

  I had done my absolute best to be respectful and not lose my shit, but I was getting tired of the situation rapidly. I had always been one to keep my emotions in check. I had always been the rock of the people around me. Able to keep a level head even when shit hit the fan. But the absurdity of the moment had finally gotten to me.

  I don’t know how much time had passed between when I had gotten to work to when I had woken up on this strange world. To me, it felt like it was the same day, like I should be expecting to go on lunch at any moment.

  “Back off!” I said, shoving the centurion away from me, or at least trying to. He was an awfully solid man and even with my shove catching him off guard all it did was push him back maybe a foot. The sound of more than a couple of swords being drawn, chiefly among them, had been from Lucan who had done it in one smooth motion, his sword placed at my throat, disappointment crossing his grizzled features. The centurion seemed completely unbothered.

  I didn’t back down, though. If they wanted to kill me, I would rather they get over with it here and now. I wasn’t going to wait for them to get creative. I did lower my hands to my sides and lowered my voice slightly but I was hardly quiet.

  “I don’t know where the fuck I am, or why I’m here in the first fucking place!” I glared right back at him. “The last thing I remember was getting ready for work when I got hit by some strange light. When I came to, I was here, watching you fucks kill each other for god knows what reason and then getting forced immediately into your fight because my only other option was to become a human pincushion”

  I felt the sword nick my neck and something warm, likely blood, trickle down my neck. “I know none of this makes sense, but it's the fucking truth!” The centurion had not broken his gaze even for a moment, and I could tell he wasn’t believing anything I had to say.

  “I’ve heard enough, take him to the gallows. Spy or not, I will not be lied to.” I felt rough hands grab me by the shoulders as Lucan slowly removed his blade from my neck. That’s it. I’m gonna die, perhaps for a second time, I’m still fuzzy on if I had a first time.

  “I’m telling you the goddamn truth!” I yelled as I was dragged away. A large man in exquisite plate armor that had been painted navy blue stepped out of the command tent. He had black, closely cropped hair that was white at the temples, with a matching salt and pepper beard. He didn’t say anything as I was dragged away. He seemed curious, but his attention turned to the battle once I was almost out of sight.

  I tried to shake the hands off my shoulders, but I got a punch to the gut for my efforts. I felt the air whoosh out of me as I doubled over and took deep, choking breaths. The soldiers pushed me hard and with my body already doubled over, I fell face-first into the ground. I let out a low groan as the soldiers hauled me back to my feet.

  This was some complete and utter bullshit. I didn’t know what I did to deserve this. I just felt overwhelming anger at the situation. I don’t know what was going on and why I deserved to be hung. I had even killed their enemies for them!

  As I focused on my rage, I began to hear a strange sound. The battle was not far and the cacophony of battle was ever present. But this sound was something different. Not the sounds of blades clashing or the screams of the dying. It sounded like someone playing a cello in C minor. The deep reverberation of the note, almost vibrating through my boots.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked the soldiers, only to receive another shove for an answer. I heard the note played again, it felt…big. Like the world vibrated along with the strange notes. If I was being honest with myself, I kinda liked it. It sounded sad, almost like a dirge being played just for me.

  I had noticed that the camp was surprisingly close to the battle, all things considered, but the gallows were not far from the edge. I’m sure it was so the enemy could see their friends swinging from them. It looks like I would have company, two men and a woman were already slowly swinging on the platform. They looked like they had been dead for a little while, crows had already begun to feast. One of the soldiers yelled at the birds, causing them to fly off, cawing angrily.

  The song had begun to get louder, I could practically feel my teeth vibrating from the cello-like sound. The soldiers didn’t seem to notice, which seemed even more bizarre to me. One of the soldiers turned towards me and said something, but it was in the quasi-latin language. Apparently, my translation spell had ended. I guess there was no point keeping it running if I was about to be hung.

  The soldier got inpatient with me and shoved me up the steps, drawing his sword for further emphasis. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go up the stairs or I get stabbed.” I spat near his feet but began to climb the stairs. The strange song suddenly stopped playing once my feet were on the platform. The first soldier looked to his companion and said something, and the other smacked his lead like he had forgotten something. He produced a pair of iron manacles and then clasped around my wrists, my hands behind my back.

  This was the end of the road, I guessed. My thoughts went to my brother as I was guided to a rope that was unoccupied currently. There were blood stains around the noose, I noted numbly. I guess I didn’t get a fresh rope. “You know, that’s not very sanitary. That could give me an infection.” I said as the rope was brought around my neck.

  I really wish I could have said goodbye to Richard one last time. I wondered how he would fare without me. He was a grown man like me, of course. But he had always been a little different than everyone else. He was brilliant in his own way. He just had never been good at expressing it to anyone except me. He would talk for hours about stuff that went way over my head, but I always listened because nobody else would. He was odd so that made him the outcast.

  A tear ran down my cheek as the soldiers went to the mechanism that would drop me through the floor to join my new lifeless companions. “I’m sorry little brother” I said quietly as the two soldiers argued over who got to pull the lever. “I hope you get to live a long, happy life without me.” The soldiers settled the dispute with some quick round of some strange version of rock, paper, scissors. Great, I’m about to be killed by a couple of idiots.

  Just as the winner wrapped his fingers around the lever, I felt a tremendous sound hit me. It sounded like a tuba being played in a hallway. Even the guards noticed it. They quickly turned towards the battlefield, the loser pointing frantically at something in the distance. I squinted to see what they were pointing at.

  The battlefield was on an open plain, but on the enemy side there was a large forest that their camp was just on the boarder of. The canopies of the pines shook as something massive moved through them.

  “What the hell is that?” I said aloud. I felt the deep tuba-like song play again, I felt like my bones were ratting in my skin from the vibrations.

  Then I saw it. Two glowing orange eyes could be seen in the shadows of the trees. The sounds of battle had stopped, and from my vantage point I could see much of the battlefield. Everyone turned towards the glowing eyes. Cheers broke out among the Tarsenican side of the battlefield, while groans and wails of terror from my side.

  Clang….clang…clang… It sounded rhythmic, almost like giant, metallic footsteps. When it stood in the light, I understood why. It was a giant mecha straight from an anime. It had to be at least sixty feet tall. It was humanoid in form, it sort of resembled a knight, but the proportions were off, it looked bulkier and the body was more angular in shape. It reminded me a lot of several different mecha series I had watched as a kid, but it also somehow was more primitive, less robot and more humanlike.

  I stared in fear and in awe as the giant machine of war took its first steps towards the battle. It carried a massive spear that was easily eighty feet tall and a supporting tower shield on its offhand. It wore a massive black and yellow cape that matched the banners of the Tarsenican army. That machine could easily wipe out the entire legion with just its feet alone. I don’t know how any army could hope to stand against it. Each step it took sent up great plumes of dust and debris. Its own allies scurrying out of the way as the giant mech moved

  It was to my sudden shock when I felt the platform go out from under me as one of the soldiers finally had a mind to pull the lever, opening the hinged door beneath me. I felt the rope bite hard into my skin as the weight of my body nearly snapped my neck. Instead, I tried gasping for air, but unable to do so. The soldiers didn’t even wait to make sure I would die, running back to the command tent.

  My eyes settled on the massive mech as it approached the battle. As my vision began to darken, my legs still swinging helplessly below me. I heard the song from before, the one that sounded like it was being played on a massive cello. The song sounded deep and mournful, A fitting companion in my final moments.

  Just as my vision became pinpricks, The cello song played again, louder than ever.

  I heard a deep male voice in my head. “You can hear my song…interesting. Come little human. Let us speak…”