02 - Centurions in San Diego
- Location
- United States
Chapter Two
The legion assembled upon Alnus Hill. Thousands of men armed with sword and spear, hundreds of mounted cavalry, and dozens of elite dragon riders. They stood gleaming in the early morning light as a testament to the might of the Empire.
The Legatus observed his forces from atop his horse, meandering past the tight boxes of soldiers. Battle would soon be upon them and many of them would lose their lives, so the Legatus took the time to pause and speak with each unit. Morale was universally high, he found. They wished for battle with smiling faces, shared crude jokes with excited laughs, and promised their Legatus that they would not falter on the field of battle.
The Legatus could not contain the grin that spread across his features. They were the finest soldiers the Empire had ever produced and none would tell him the opposite.
This love did not extend to the wild rabble that stood alongside his shining legion.
When the emperor had sounded the war trumpets, ad-hoc legions were formed to serve as auxiliaries. Their composition was not of loyal Imperial citizens, but of the filthy barbarian hordes, a great rabble that carried both the face and stench of swine.
Goblins.
Their minds were slow and ponderous things, lacking in cleverness and they carried none of the traits that comprised a soldier. Their will to fight was relative to the coin promised them and nothing further. It was these attributes that allowed them to live while races such as the warrior bunnies were driven to the brink of total extermination. They would not rebel as long as there was gold to line their pockets and they were too stupid to realize their only purpose was to forfeit their lives in the name of the Emperor.
Oh, what the Legatus would not give for even half their number in warrior bunnies!
The Legatus rode to the head of his army where his adjutant waited, eager to be as far from the goblin horde and their repugnant scent as possible. His adjutant was a young man of boyish face and fair haired, son of a Senator, and in the Legatus' opinion, destined for greatness. He had served as a capable right hand thus far, and the Legatus had no reason to doubt him now. His hands shook upon the reins, though not from fear of death, but eagerness to seek out the glory found only upon the battlefield.
The boy saluted, "Legatus," he said.
"Elio."
The boy grinned, "Do you have any words of wisdom to impart upon those of us who are about to die, my liege?"
"Yes," the Legatus said, "Let the goblins do your dying for you."
"Words to live by."
As their chuckles faded, the Legatus turned to his signalman, and gave him a simple nod. The man placed his horn to his lips and blew, drawing the legion to attention. Their heels snapped together with a synchronous crack of leather upon leather that drifted over the field.
Silence reigned and then the trumpet sounded again, issuing the order to march.
The goblins, teeth gleaming with savage glee, rushed the Gate with little concern for organization or appearance. There was a great roughhousing among their ranks, propagated by the erroneous belief that they would receive additional rewards for being the first into the other world. The legion followed behind in perfect lockstep. The goblins reached the crest of the hill and surged forth into the mouth of the Gate, their barks and yips quickly lost in the murky darkness.
The interior of the Gate was an abyss of suffocating gloom with only a pinprick of sunlight emanating from where it opened into the other realm and ghastly pale blue light rising from the ground to light the legion's path through the black. Crossing the threshold of the Gate sent a shiver down the Legatus' spine, a momentary pang of fear that he wrestled down. It was a fear of the unknown, both of the Gate itself and the world that beyond it, but it was a fear that he could not allow to show itself. To the men, he knew no fear. And as long as they believed such, he could tell them to march straight into Hell and confront Hardy herself.
They were good men and he was proud of each and every one of them.
He sent prayer to Emroy for success in the coming crusade, promising that every ounce of blood shed would be in his hallowed name.
The first Imperial legion exited the Gate, six thousand men and goblins in all, to no resistance. Their surroundings confused them, a world of strange sights, sounds, and smells, but discipline held and the army advanced despite the alien environment. The horde of goblins ran rampant in the streets, competing with each other to see who could accumulate the most kills, drawing the denizens of the other side into a panic once the first head was cleaved from its owner's shoulders.
They fled, dressed in their strange attire and overloaded with their equally strange packages, screaming in their incomprehensible tongue. They bullied, shoved, and tripped one another - callously leaving them behind or trampling them beneath their feet in their stampede towards freedom.
The archers arranged themselves into a firing line, readied their weapons, and let fly a rain of projectiles that struck down dozens more. If their deadly missiles struck goblins by accident, all the better.
With the beat of massive wings, the legion's dragons took flight, eager to join in the slaughter. The legion advanced cowing both the goblin barbarians and the chaotic mass of people away from the Gate's mouth.
"This place unnerves me," Elio remarked as the massacre played out around them.
The Legatus hummed, "It is unbecoming of an officer to show fear, my dear Elio."
"Do you question my courage, my liege?"
"No, merely making jest," the Legatus said with a grin before adding more quietly, "I feel similarly," he cast his gaze upwards towards the towering pillars of steel, concrete, and glass, "These structures rise higher than the tallest spire of the Imperial palace."
Elio nodded, "If they were any taller they might touch Heaven itself."
The legion heard the sound before they could see its maker, a banshee's wail that set the men on edge. A moment later, the source of the shrill noise came roaring into view, a black-and-white carriage with flashing red-and-blue lights mounted upon its iron frame. The strange vehicle came to a swift halt and a rotund man dressed in black clambered out.
He seemed to ponder the wall of shields advancing upon him before jogging to the rear of his carriage. From the rear compartment the plump man armed himself with a wood-and-iron implement that he shouldered like a crossbow.
There was an eruption of fire from the end of the strange device and a legionnaire fell, a neat hole through both his shield and breastplate. The militiaman pumped his weapon and sent forth another explosion of flame, striking down a second legionnaire.
A Centurion gave the order to charge and the phalanx broke into a surge of men. The stout man began to retreat, no doubt unnerved by the rush of swordsmen bearing down upon him. He managed two more explosive blasts with his strange instrument before the first blade found his flesh. His weapon dropped from his fingers and the legion fell upon him, plunging their blades into his breast until his screams were silenced.
The Legatus dismounted his horse, leaving the beast in Elio's care before going to investigate their strange foe. The soldiers stepped aside for their commander, allowing him access to the mauled body lying in the street. The dead man was nothing special beyond his weapon, the Legatus quickly determined. Nothing more than a man with thinning hair and his intestines spilling forth onto the concrete. The Centurion responsible for the charge offered up the man's weapon and the Legatus accepted it with careful delicacy. It was a strange weapon of simple wood and iron, but lacking in the weight one would expect of a weapon of its size and power. Runes were inscribed into its side, simple script that perhaps held an explanation for the strange object's unforgiving explosive power. The Legatus handed the weapon back.
"Handle it carefully, Centurion," he said, "That weapon will make a fine addition to the Emperor's collection."
As the Legatus returned to his horse, Elio cleared his throat, "Steel yourself, my liege, the Imperator approaches."
True to his word, a detachment of mounted cavalry were rapidly advancing on their position. The Legatus paused to adjust Elio's helmet upon his head, making certain the plume was properly centered down the middle of his skull before patting the boy on the shoulder with a grin.
The Imperator was more politician than soldier, one who used his men as stepping stones to achieve personal goals, always searching for the next chance to return to Sadera as a triumphant hero of war. With the opening of the Gate, the Imperator had fallen upon his knees before the Emperor to allow his legions to venture into the unknown in the name of the Empire.
He was flanked by several others, all in the plumed headdresses indicative of Legatus' and their aides, along with the Imperator's own band of personal guards and assistants.
The Legatus rendered a salute as the procession of men and beast came to a halt. The other Legatus' returned the salute - the Imperator did not.
The Imperator, cloaked in a cape of bloody crimson and armor that dazzled in the sun observed the legion as they reformed their lines and handled the dead and wounded, "Hail, Merovech," he said with an almost bored tone, "I see your men have sustained casualties."
The Legatus - Merovech - nodded, "Indeed. This was our first contact with enemy forces," he paused momentarily, his eyes distant as if thinking over a particularly ponderous task, then spoke again once the light returned to his gaze, "I believe that our foe may have been a practitioner of magecraft."
The Imperator hummed, "A wizard, you say?"
"Yes," Merovech said, then turned to Elio, "Retrieve the weapon we recovered so that the Imperator may see."
The boy was cut off before he even had a chance of going about his task with a disinterested wave of the Imperator's hand, "That won't be necessary. You defeated this," he snorted with bemusement as he said, "Wizard," then continued, "To the loss of what? Four men? Consider how many hundreds fled without drawing sword against us, Legatus. A hundred slaves for the mines, a dead wizard," the general gestured to the towers of glittering glass risking above them, "And a world no doubt teeming with treasures beyond our wildest imaginations, all for the mere price of four soldiers! That, Legatus, is a victory!"
"My liege," Merovech pressed, "If we face these mages in strength, our forces will be decimated. This world of treasures is unlike any we have ever seen before-"
"Bah!" the Imperator exclaimed, rocking on his horse, glancing between his party with a wide grin upon his face, "The Legatus has seen his first taste of combat and already is ready to return home with his tail between his legs!" his comment is answered by chuckles from his guards. The Imperator leaned forward on his horse, "Are you a coward, Merovech? I thought a hero such as yourself would be made of sterner mettle."
"I think the word you are looking for is cautious, Imperator," one of the Legatus' said. A tall man with broad shoulders, flaxen hair, blue eyes, and face of chiseled marble, Legatus Radomir is one of the men that Merovech considers a personal friend. Radomir grinned, "And I believe we should consider his words before casting them aside."
"Hmph," the Imperator grunted, "Magnus. It's preposterous. We destroyed their kind when they proved too dangerous to the good of the Empire, so why would the people of this world be so willing to let such brigands live?" the Imperator, his face red, flailed wildly upon his horse like a child forbid candy, "It doesn't matter! We're missing the complete point of this conference!"
He stewed silently, casting angry glares at the assembled men. This done, he composed himself with great spectacle, "Now, before Legatus Merovech derailed our discussion with preposterous talk of wizards and the destruction of our forces, we came here to discuss strategy."
He continued, "Now, having surveyed the terrain, I have come to a grand strategy that we will need to employ with much haste. We are letting too many potential prisoners escape with Legatus Merovech's brilliant strategy of blindly rushing forth, so I have come to the conclusion that we should instead - like a great hinge - drive this flock of savages towards the sea where they will be more easily corralled and enslaved."
"Eduard's forces will compose the blocking element-" The stout Legatus, almost as tall as he was wide, nodded at his mention in the Imperator's battle plan, "-while the two heroes of the Bunny War, will serve as the grand hinge."
The Imperator leaned back, grinning widely, obviously quite content with himself.
"My liege, while I don't doubt your intent," Radomir spoke up, "If Merovech and my legions are to form this 'Great Hinge' you speak of, it will mean exposing the rear of our forces to enemy attack."
The Imperator simply smiled, "Speed and aggression! Speed and aggression will be our allies in this endeavor. If you attack swiftly and mercilessly, then the enemy no opportunities to consolidate and mount a defense."
Merovech opened his mouth to interject but was silenced by the Imperator's raised hand.
"You have said quite enough already and I will not have my commands undermined. You exist to carry out my orders, Legatus. My will is your will. Is that fact understood, Legatus?"
With mechanical slowness, Merovech nodded his head, "Yes, my liege. I am the instrument of your will."
"Fantastic!" the Imperator exclaimed, "Now that that's settled we can go about implementing the grand hinge and bring much glory and fame to ourselves, our Emperor, and the Empire!" With his speech said, he summoned his troop, and rode off down the road harangue other officers.
Radomir grinned, "Quite the wonderful fellow, isn't he?"
Merovech frowned, "He's going to get us killed, you know."
Radomir clapped him on the shoulder, "And that's what makes it fun!" with a whistle, he summoned his adjutant to his side, "Pip! We ride!" The boy saluted Merovech informally and then the pair galloped off at speed to rejoin their legion.
Eduard left in a much less dashing manner, offering a simple nod before departing alongside his aide, leaving Merovech alone with Elio. The man's face was grim, but he issued his orders nonetheless, "Pass the word. Reform the lines in accordance with the Imperator's plans, we'll move out in five minutes."
"And what of our rear? It's unprotected, as you said," Elio questioned.
Merovech sighed, "Perhaps, the Imperator is right. Perhaps, I am simply a paranoid man jumping at shadows," he shrugged slightly, "A Legatus' view of the battlefield is quite narrow."
"And what if you're not simply paranoid? What if you're right?"
"Pray I'm not. If I am, then pray to Emroy for guidance," he chuckled, "And if Emroy won't answer, then pray that our dragon riders are watching over us instead."
"You're putting a lot of weight upon blind faith, my liege," Elio remarked, "That's unlike you."
The Legatus fixed him with a harsh glare, "Go."
Without a word, the boy turned and galloped off to dispense the Imperator's will amongst the troops. Alone, the Legatus allowed himself to slouch in his saddle. He felt very tired.
"They're turning around," Brad whispered. Out in the street beyond a Centurion detached himself from the rest of the legion, kicked a goblin in the ass, got into a short argument with the disgusting creature, all culminating in him manhandling the little beastie along to where the thing needed to be. In a way, it almost reminded him of a Sergeant Major trying to unfuck a boot with his head stuffed up his ass. He glanced back to Ray, who was parked further back in their little observation post, trying to get into contact with Pendleton to call up the cavalry, "Anything?"
Ray shook his head, Nokia pressed to his ear, "Nope."
"Goddamnit," Brad hissed.
In their effort to recon the situation they'd ran into what could best be described as a wall of shields. Inappropriately equipped to deal with such an occurrence, they'd fallen back to regroup, observe, and plan out their next move. Rather quickly they'd come to the conclusion that they'd need to get in touch with Pendleton to call in the cavalry, but so far they'd been unsuccessful. Which was highly irritating, having an entire base full of Devil Dogs camped eighty klicks up the road, but no way to know for sure if they were on the way or even aware of the dragons and shit attacking downtown San Diego.
They waited in a hastily abandoned boutique, Brad peering through the front window at the retreating army and Ray tucked away in the corner muttering obscenities into the phone. Brad waited until the army was out of sight, then gave them another couple minutes to clear out before he eased himself up off the floor, "Alright," he said, "I'm gonna take a look outside."
Ray flashed him both a grin and a thumbs-up, "Try not to get ate by a dragon," he snarked.
"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Corporal Person," Brad muttered to himself. He took a breath, then eased the shop doors open. In the owner's infinite wisdom, they had attached a pair of bells to the door frame with ribbon, which now tinkled against each other as the Sergeant tried to silently push the doors asunder. To the Marine, the tiny bells might as well have been Big Ben ringing over foggy London. Despite his distress, the legion of monsters and men didn't return to bring death upon him, and he made it out onto the sidewalk without incident.
The streets, previously full of fleeing civilians and marching soldiers, were now eerily empty. The abandoned police car howled endlessly, its mutilated owner lying not far from it. The siren's scream echoed between the towers of concrete, bombarding Colbert with sound. He'd never compared the sound with moaning of a dying man, but he couldn't shake the mental association now.
Still, despite this he pushed forward. Being the Communist Republic of California, the cruiser presented the most likely source of a viable weapon outside pillaging a sporting goods store, and Brad wasn't too keen on facing down legionnaires with a baseball bat.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he dropped to a knee next to the massacred cop, careful not to kneel in the pooling blood and shredded entrails lying about the man's corpse. To his great relief, no one had bothered to pilfer the officer's belt. He undid the patrol belt as quickly as he could, slid it out from under the overweight cop's body, and tossed it over his shoulder.
The patrol car was still blaring its headache-inducing call to the heavens, which indicated the keys were still in the ignition. Colbert counted this as a small blessing, since it kept him from having to dig through a dead man's pants. He settled himself into the driver's seat, taking a moment to seek out the siren's on/off button and silence it before easing the car into reverse. Careful not to run over the corpse in the street, he turned the cruiser around and headed back towards where he'd left Ray.
A moment later the wiry man emerged from the store and climbed into the passenger seat. He surveyed the inside of the car, taking in the scent of cheap cigarettes that clung to the upholstery.
"Y'know," he said, "When I was a kid, I always had this fantasy of stealing a cop car and going for a joyride," the corners of his lips sagged, "But this isn't really how I pictured it happening."
Colbert eased onto the gas, "I know the feeling."
The legion assembled upon Alnus Hill. Thousands of men armed with sword and spear, hundreds of mounted cavalry, and dozens of elite dragon riders. They stood gleaming in the early morning light as a testament to the might of the Empire.
The Legatus observed his forces from atop his horse, meandering past the tight boxes of soldiers. Battle would soon be upon them and many of them would lose their lives, so the Legatus took the time to pause and speak with each unit. Morale was universally high, he found. They wished for battle with smiling faces, shared crude jokes with excited laughs, and promised their Legatus that they would not falter on the field of battle.
The Legatus could not contain the grin that spread across his features. They were the finest soldiers the Empire had ever produced and none would tell him the opposite.
This love did not extend to the wild rabble that stood alongside his shining legion.
When the emperor had sounded the war trumpets, ad-hoc legions were formed to serve as auxiliaries. Their composition was not of loyal Imperial citizens, but of the filthy barbarian hordes, a great rabble that carried both the face and stench of swine.
Goblins.
Their minds were slow and ponderous things, lacking in cleverness and they carried none of the traits that comprised a soldier. Their will to fight was relative to the coin promised them and nothing further. It was these attributes that allowed them to live while races such as the warrior bunnies were driven to the brink of total extermination. They would not rebel as long as there was gold to line their pockets and they were too stupid to realize their only purpose was to forfeit their lives in the name of the Emperor.
Oh, what the Legatus would not give for even half their number in warrior bunnies!
The Legatus rode to the head of his army where his adjutant waited, eager to be as far from the goblin horde and their repugnant scent as possible. His adjutant was a young man of boyish face and fair haired, son of a Senator, and in the Legatus' opinion, destined for greatness. He had served as a capable right hand thus far, and the Legatus had no reason to doubt him now. His hands shook upon the reins, though not from fear of death, but eagerness to seek out the glory found only upon the battlefield.
The boy saluted, "Legatus," he said.
"Elio."
The boy grinned, "Do you have any words of wisdom to impart upon those of us who are about to die, my liege?"
"Yes," the Legatus said, "Let the goblins do your dying for you."
"Words to live by."
As their chuckles faded, the Legatus turned to his signalman, and gave him a simple nod. The man placed his horn to his lips and blew, drawing the legion to attention. Their heels snapped together with a synchronous crack of leather upon leather that drifted over the field.
Silence reigned and then the trumpet sounded again, issuing the order to march.
The goblins, teeth gleaming with savage glee, rushed the Gate with little concern for organization or appearance. There was a great roughhousing among their ranks, propagated by the erroneous belief that they would receive additional rewards for being the first into the other world. The legion followed behind in perfect lockstep. The goblins reached the crest of the hill and surged forth into the mouth of the Gate, their barks and yips quickly lost in the murky darkness.
The interior of the Gate was an abyss of suffocating gloom with only a pinprick of sunlight emanating from where it opened into the other realm and ghastly pale blue light rising from the ground to light the legion's path through the black. Crossing the threshold of the Gate sent a shiver down the Legatus' spine, a momentary pang of fear that he wrestled down. It was a fear of the unknown, both of the Gate itself and the world that beyond it, but it was a fear that he could not allow to show itself. To the men, he knew no fear. And as long as they believed such, he could tell them to march straight into Hell and confront Hardy herself.
They were good men and he was proud of each and every one of them.
He sent prayer to Emroy for success in the coming crusade, promising that every ounce of blood shed would be in his hallowed name.
The first Imperial legion exited the Gate, six thousand men and goblins in all, to no resistance. Their surroundings confused them, a world of strange sights, sounds, and smells, but discipline held and the army advanced despite the alien environment. The horde of goblins ran rampant in the streets, competing with each other to see who could accumulate the most kills, drawing the denizens of the other side into a panic once the first head was cleaved from its owner's shoulders.
They fled, dressed in their strange attire and overloaded with their equally strange packages, screaming in their incomprehensible tongue. They bullied, shoved, and tripped one another - callously leaving them behind or trampling them beneath their feet in their stampede towards freedom.
The archers arranged themselves into a firing line, readied their weapons, and let fly a rain of projectiles that struck down dozens more. If their deadly missiles struck goblins by accident, all the better.
With the beat of massive wings, the legion's dragons took flight, eager to join in the slaughter. The legion advanced cowing both the goblin barbarians and the chaotic mass of people away from the Gate's mouth.
"This place unnerves me," Elio remarked as the massacre played out around them.
The Legatus hummed, "It is unbecoming of an officer to show fear, my dear Elio."
"Do you question my courage, my liege?"
"No, merely making jest," the Legatus said with a grin before adding more quietly, "I feel similarly," he cast his gaze upwards towards the towering pillars of steel, concrete, and glass, "These structures rise higher than the tallest spire of the Imperial palace."
Elio nodded, "If they were any taller they might touch Heaven itself."
The legion heard the sound before they could see its maker, a banshee's wail that set the men on edge. A moment later, the source of the shrill noise came roaring into view, a black-and-white carriage with flashing red-and-blue lights mounted upon its iron frame. The strange vehicle came to a swift halt and a rotund man dressed in black clambered out.
He seemed to ponder the wall of shields advancing upon him before jogging to the rear of his carriage. From the rear compartment the plump man armed himself with a wood-and-iron implement that he shouldered like a crossbow.
There was an eruption of fire from the end of the strange device and a legionnaire fell, a neat hole through both his shield and breastplate. The militiaman pumped his weapon and sent forth another explosion of flame, striking down a second legionnaire.
A Centurion gave the order to charge and the phalanx broke into a surge of men. The stout man began to retreat, no doubt unnerved by the rush of swordsmen bearing down upon him. He managed two more explosive blasts with his strange instrument before the first blade found his flesh. His weapon dropped from his fingers and the legion fell upon him, plunging their blades into his breast until his screams were silenced.
The Legatus dismounted his horse, leaving the beast in Elio's care before going to investigate their strange foe. The soldiers stepped aside for their commander, allowing him access to the mauled body lying in the street. The dead man was nothing special beyond his weapon, the Legatus quickly determined. Nothing more than a man with thinning hair and his intestines spilling forth onto the concrete. The Centurion responsible for the charge offered up the man's weapon and the Legatus accepted it with careful delicacy. It was a strange weapon of simple wood and iron, but lacking in the weight one would expect of a weapon of its size and power. Runes were inscribed into its side, simple script that perhaps held an explanation for the strange object's unforgiving explosive power. The Legatus handed the weapon back.
"Handle it carefully, Centurion," he said, "That weapon will make a fine addition to the Emperor's collection."
As the Legatus returned to his horse, Elio cleared his throat, "Steel yourself, my liege, the Imperator approaches."
True to his word, a detachment of mounted cavalry were rapidly advancing on their position. The Legatus paused to adjust Elio's helmet upon his head, making certain the plume was properly centered down the middle of his skull before patting the boy on the shoulder with a grin.
The Imperator was more politician than soldier, one who used his men as stepping stones to achieve personal goals, always searching for the next chance to return to Sadera as a triumphant hero of war. With the opening of the Gate, the Imperator had fallen upon his knees before the Emperor to allow his legions to venture into the unknown in the name of the Empire.
He was flanked by several others, all in the plumed headdresses indicative of Legatus' and their aides, along with the Imperator's own band of personal guards and assistants.
The Legatus rendered a salute as the procession of men and beast came to a halt. The other Legatus' returned the salute - the Imperator did not.
The Imperator, cloaked in a cape of bloody crimson and armor that dazzled in the sun observed the legion as they reformed their lines and handled the dead and wounded, "Hail, Merovech," he said with an almost bored tone, "I see your men have sustained casualties."
The Legatus - Merovech - nodded, "Indeed. This was our first contact with enemy forces," he paused momentarily, his eyes distant as if thinking over a particularly ponderous task, then spoke again once the light returned to his gaze, "I believe that our foe may have been a practitioner of magecraft."
The Imperator hummed, "A wizard, you say?"
"Yes," Merovech said, then turned to Elio, "Retrieve the weapon we recovered so that the Imperator may see."
The boy was cut off before he even had a chance of going about his task with a disinterested wave of the Imperator's hand, "That won't be necessary. You defeated this," he snorted with bemusement as he said, "Wizard," then continued, "To the loss of what? Four men? Consider how many hundreds fled without drawing sword against us, Legatus. A hundred slaves for the mines, a dead wizard," the general gestured to the towers of glittering glass risking above them, "And a world no doubt teeming with treasures beyond our wildest imaginations, all for the mere price of four soldiers! That, Legatus, is a victory!"
"My liege," Merovech pressed, "If we face these mages in strength, our forces will be decimated. This world of treasures is unlike any we have ever seen before-"
"Bah!" the Imperator exclaimed, rocking on his horse, glancing between his party with a wide grin upon his face, "The Legatus has seen his first taste of combat and already is ready to return home with his tail between his legs!" his comment is answered by chuckles from his guards. The Imperator leaned forward on his horse, "Are you a coward, Merovech? I thought a hero such as yourself would be made of sterner mettle."
"I think the word you are looking for is cautious, Imperator," one of the Legatus' said. A tall man with broad shoulders, flaxen hair, blue eyes, and face of chiseled marble, Legatus Radomir is one of the men that Merovech considers a personal friend. Radomir grinned, "And I believe we should consider his words before casting them aside."
"Hmph," the Imperator grunted, "Magnus. It's preposterous. We destroyed their kind when they proved too dangerous to the good of the Empire, so why would the people of this world be so willing to let such brigands live?" the Imperator, his face red, flailed wildly upon his horse like a child forbid candy, "It doesn't matter! We're missing the complete point of this conference!"
He stewed silently, casting angry glares at the assembled men. This done, he composed himself with great spectacle, "Now, before Legatus Merovech derailed our discussion with preposterous talk of wizards and the destruction of our forces, we came here to discuss strategy."
He continued, "Now, having surveyed the terrain, I have come to a grand strategy that we will need to employ with much haste. We are letting too many potential prisoners escape with Legatus Merovech's brilliant strategy of blindly rushing forth, so I have come to the conclusion that we should instead - like a great hinge - drive this flock of savages towards the sea where they will be more easily corralled and enslaved."
"Eduard's forces will compose the blocking element-" The stout Legatus, almost as tall as he was wide, nodded at his mention in the Imperator's battle plan, "-while the two heroes of the Bunny War, will serve as the grand hinge."
The Imperator leaned back, grinning widely, obviously quite content with himself.
"My liege, while I don't doubt your intent," Radomir spoke up, "If Merovech and my legions are to form this 'Great Hinge' you speak of, it will mean exposing the rear of our forces to enemy attack."
The Imperator simply smiled, "Speed and aggression! Speed and aggression will be our allies in this endeavor. If you attack swiftly and mercilessly, then the enemy no opportunities to consolidate and mount a defense."
Merovech opened his mouth to interject but was silenced by the Imperator's raised hand.
"You have said quite enough already and I will not have my commands undermined. You exist to carry out my orders, Legatus. My will is your will. Is that fact understood, Legatus?"
With mechanical slowness, Merovech nodded his head, "Yes, my liege. I am the instrument of your will."
"Fantastic!" the Imperator exclaimed, "Now that that's settled we can go about implementing the grand hinge and bring much glory and fame to ourselves, our Emperor, and the Empire!" With his speech said, he summoned his troop, and rode off down the road harangue other officers.
Radomir grinned, "Quite the wonderful fellow, isn't he?"
Merovech frowned, "He's going to get us killed, you know."
Radomir clapped him on the shoulder, "And that's what makes it fun!" with a whistle, he summoned his adjutant to his side, "Pip! We ride!" The boy saluted Merovech informally and then the pair galloped off at speed to rejoin their legion.
Eduard left in a much less dashing manner, offering a simple nod before departing alongside his aide, leaving Merovech alone with Elio. The man's face was grim, but he issued his orders nonetheless, "Pass the word. Reform the lines in accordance with the Imperator's plans, we'll move out in five minutes."
"And what of our rear? It's unprotected, as you said," Elio questioned.
Merovech sighed, "Perhaps, the Imperator is right. Perhaps, I am simply a paranoid man jumping at shadows," he shrugged slightly, "A Legatus' view of the battlefield is quite narrow."
"And what if you're not simply paranoid? What if you're right?"
"Pray I'm not. If I am, then pray to Emroy for guidance," he chuckled, "And if Emroy won't answer, then pray that our dragon riders are watching over us instead."
"You're putting a lot of weight upon blind faith, my liege," Elio remarked, "That's unlike you."
The Legatus fixed him with a harsh glare, "Go."
Without a word, the boy turned and galloped off to dispense the Imperator's will amongst the troops. Alone, the Legatus allowed himself to slouch in his saddle. He felt very tired.
"They're turning around," Brad whispered. Out in the street beyond a Centurion detached himself from the rest of the legion, kicked a goblin in the ass, got into a short argument with the disgusting creature, all culminating in him manhandling the little beastie along to where the thing needed to be. In a way, it almost reminded him of a Sergeant Major trying to unfuck a boot with his head stuffed up his ass. He glanced back to Ray, who was parked further back in their little observation post, trying to get into contact with Pendleton to call up the cavalry, "Anything?"
Ray shook his head, Nokia pressed to his ear, "Nope."
"Goddamnit," Brad hissed.
In their effort to recon the situation they'd ran into what could best be described as a wall of shields. Inappropriately equipped to deal with such an occurrence, they'd fallen back to regroup, observe, and plan out their next move. Rather quickly they'd come to the conclusion that they'd need to get in touch with Pendleton to call in the cavalry, but so far they'd been unsuccessful. Which was highly irritating, having an entire base full of Devil Dogs camped eighty klicks up the road, but no way to know for sure if they were on the way or even aware of the dragons and shit attacking downtown San Diego.
They waited in a hastily abandoned boutique, Brad peering through the front window at the retreating army and Ray tucked away in the corner muttering obscenities into the phone. Brad waited until the army was out of sight, then gave them another couple minutes to clear out before he eased himself up off the floor, "Alright," he said, "I'm gonna take a look outside."
Ray flashed him both a grin and a thumbs-up, "Try not to get ate by a dragon," he snarked.
"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Corporal Person," Brad muttered to himself. He took a breath, then eased the shop doors open. In the owner's infinite wisdom, they had attached a pair of bells to the door frame with ribbon, which now tinkled against each other as the Sergeant tried to silently push the doors asunder. To the Marine, the tiny bells might as well have been Big Ben ringing over foggy London. Despite his distress, the legion of monsters and men didn't return to bring death upon him, and he made it out onto the sidewalk without incident.
The streets, previously full of fleeing civilians and marching soldiers, were now eerily empty. The abandoned police car howled endlessly, its mutilated owner lying not far from it. The siren's scream echoed between the towers of concrete, bombarding Colbert with sound. He'd never compared the sound with moaning of a dying man, but he couldn't shake the mental association now.
Still, despite this he pushed forward. Being the Communist Republic of California, the cruiser presented the most likely source of a viable weapon outside pillaging a sporting goods store, and Brad wasn't too keen on facing down legionnaires with a baseball bat.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he dropped to a knee next to the massacred cop, careful not to kneel in the pooling blood and shredded entrails lying about the man's corpse. To his great relief, no one had bothered to pilfer the officer's belt. He undid the patrol belt as quickly as he could, slid it out from under the overweight cop's body, and tossed it over his shoulder.
The patrol car was still blaring its headache-inducing call to the heavens, which indicated the keys were still in the ignition. Colbert counted this as a small blessing, since it kept him from having to dig through a dead man's pants. He settled himself into the driver's seat, taking a moment to seek out the siren's on/off button and silence it before easing the car into reverse. Careful not to run over the corpse in the street, he turned the cruiser around and headed back towards where he'd left Ray.
A moment later the wiry man emerged from the store and climbed into the passenger seat. He surveyed the inside of the car, taking in the scent of cheap cigarettes that clung to the upholstery.
"Y'know," he said, "When I was a kid, I always had this fantasy of stealing a cop car and going for a joyride," the corners of his lips sagged, "But this isn't really how I pictured it happening."
Colbert eased onto the gas, "I know the feeling."
