Chapter Six
Antora, Lucifaad Territory
A year passed like a dream for Cyrus.
The 66th Legion may have been on campaign, but he spent considerable time sharpening his reflexes and absorbing the knowledge necessary to master his ancestral power.
Ghislaine was his main point of contact in that regard.
Her comprehension of his family's Ceàird sgàil, Shadow Craft in common tongue, was second to Cedric himself. She applauded Cyrus for his perseverance while reprimanding him for his sub-par levels of understanding. Her teaching method mirrored Cedric's, emphasizing ruthless manipulation of the darkness to coerce it into submitting to his will.
However, Cyrus felt an odd sensation overtake him each time his infernal energy mixed with the shadows. Ghislaine characterized the darkness as a living entity that resisted them at every turn, but he did not feel any such resistance.
On the contrary, the shadows cocooned around him in a protective shroud, wanting and craving to mix with his demonic essence. When Cyrus tried to impose his will on the darkness, it shrank away from him, almost terrified of his actions. The Spartan had to contend with a confusing mix of emotions and sensations, but he eventually managed to manipulate the shadows to his will.
Ghislaine either misread or ignored the strange reactions, preferring to move on to more sophisticated techniques that demanded a tremendous amount of understanding and energy to perform.
The Nekoshu pushed his adolescent body to the breaking point, motivating him with scathing inadequacies that stung at his pride as a Devil and a Spartan. He achieved minimal success in mastering Sgàil Folach and Dubhra Sleagh- Hidden Shadow and Dark Javelin - alongside a few demonic spells of varying functions.
Still, Cyrus was a long way from matching Cedric's martial prowess, especially with his complete mastery of House Kimaris's potent demonic form.
Dubhra Sligeach, Dark Carapace, is the potent protective shell that is the backbone of the Kimaris arsenal. It encases its user in a hardened exoskeleton and transforms them into a traditional Demon by Devil and Human standards. Few weapons can pierce its outer shell, and each time Cedric takes to the field, his Dubhra Sligeach strikes fear into the hearts of all who stand against him.
The older members of House Kimaris, such as Elerin, Jade, and Ghislaine, were a notch below Cedric's capabilities. Its younger members, such as the twins and Cyrus, were still milling about in the novice territory, but Cyrus was making startling progress out of that tier.
It should have frightened Ghislaine to some degree, but her endearment only seemed to grow with each successful test. Cyrus had other responsibilities within the encampment by Cedric's order, which saved him from being suffocated by the overly affectionate Nekoshu's attention.
He spent his duties shadowing the Legion's Camp Praetor and understanding the critical aspects of warfare logistics within a demonic Legion. Unlike humans, Devil's didn't need to consume daily amounts of food or water to keep their bodies from crashing on them.
They could go weeks if not months without any nutrition so long as they satisfied one of their sins.
Azol, the camp praetor, explained this process as vaguely as possible because it was an insignificant detail in his mind.
Cyrus's queries regarding this subject were immediately answered after he stumbled upon Ghislaine satisfying her sin of Lust with a female Centurion from the 5th Cohort.
He would eternally wish that he hadn't walked in on her deviancies, but Ghislaine's shameless antics aside, Cyrus was given an exceptional education on a Legions Organization and inner workings.
By the end of their first month together, Cyrus was performing the camp praetor's duties while he tended to their increasingly over-extended supply chain.
The Lucifaad campaign was entering its second year, and the civil war only seemed to escalate on brutality after the razing of Gehenna.
Cedric's desire for a tactical victory by flattening the border city en route to Lucifaad was a complete success.
Initially, the razing of Gehenna severely impacted the morale of many Loyalist Nobles whose holdings lay at the vanguard of the Renegade assault.
Dozens of small towns gradually fell under Cedric's control without bloodshed or resistance. The ruling nobility wisely capitulated as Renegade Legionnaires approached their gates, and they had no inclination to watch their homes burn under the Shadowlord's gaze.
Ten Loyalists Legions drew a line in the sand after weeks of rearguard action. Bashalum ordered his Praetor Grayfia Lucifuge to halt Cedric's progress in an open field fifty miles east of Lucifaad called Ashfell.
Cedric drew his forces from Lords Gremory, Phenex, and Baels Corps, gathering a full strength of fourteen Legions upon the amber fields.
Over a Million Devil's took part in the battle, and the 66th Legion lay at the vanguard of Cedric's relentless assault upon the Loyalist battle line. Infernal bolts and demonic energy filled the skies over Ashfell as cohorts slammed into one another with rage consuming their minds.
The battle was not limited to the ground; specialized units took to the skies in an effort to establish air superiority for their respective sides.
A flashing light briefly obscured Cyrus's eyesight, and the scene was so visceral that he found himself momentarily lost under the blazing beams of a Covenant Cruiser scouring a UNSC settlement.
These moments were few and far between, but they continued to plague him even as the battle reached its climax.
Cyrus watched from the safe confines of a triage center five miles from its epicenter as thousands of Renegade Legionnaires streamed into the camp with vicious wounds. Some were missing limbs, others had their skin peeling off their bodies, and a select unfortunate few were irreparably damaged by a demonic power that fused their armor and flesh into bundles of frozen ice.
Grayfia Lucifuge was a nightmare on the battlefield, and Sirzechs Gremory had to use everything he had to compel her to flee the field alongside her battered Legions.
After two days of vicious fighting, the Renegade flag flew over the blood-soaked plains of Ashfell, but the cost had been heavy. Over two hundred thousand devils were killed or wounded in the battle, leaving the victor to deal with the piles of their dead kin.
Cedric ordered that all of the soldiers be cremated with full military honors, a politically motivated decision given that several of the Loyalists who perished possessed ties to the Noble Families who had surrendered to the Renegades.
Whether the political maneuvering worked was irrelevant, propaganda would ensure that the Shadowlord's reputation for butchery and mercy reached the ears of Loyalist Nobles and soldiers alike.
As Cedric's Legions marched on Lucifaad, their path was blocked by dozens of fortified redoubts and outposts specifically designed to bleed their overall strength before reaching the capital.
Bashalum's delaying tactic differed from his stubborn personality, but the full extent of his strategy wasn't realized until Cedric's Legions settled in for a prolonged siege of the capital.
The 66th and a pair of Lord Phenex's Legions were stationed at the town of Antora, a city within ten miles of the capital that served as the primary staging ground for the siege of Lucifaad.
The Loyalists hadn't bothered to put up a fight and allowed the 30th Legion belonging to the house of Forneus to walk in uncontested.
Bashalum was not seeking the glorious final engagement he was known for, and Cedric was concerned that the Loyalist Primarch was being counseled by one of his least temperamental Praetors.
Grayfia Lucifuge was a candidate considering the political and martial influence she had gathered during the Great War, but Bashalum regarded her as little more than a failed bodyguard seeking redemption.
The architect of the Loyalist exodus following Ashfell remained unknown until Cedric's Legions were victimized by a series of small-scale ambushes aimed at their Praetor and Primus Legionnaires.
House Nebiros has their filthy hands all over these sudden and violent attacks on their officers. Their agents were deeply embedded in the occupied cities, and Cedric's Legions had difficulty rooting them out.
Several overzealous cohorts had exacted vengeance on the local populace when their Primus Legionnaires were killed, inflaming tensions and prompting an influx of furious civilians to join the loyalist cause.
At least, that's what Cyrus was inferring while spectating the war council led by his father. Cyrus had just returned from overseeing a stream of weapons and armor from the forge works of Tophet, a town that specialized in forging Legion equipment.
The council consisted of every Tribune, and their Praetors gathered around a detailed war table of Lucifaad and the surrounding territories. Cedric sat at the head of the table, with Lords Gremory and Bael on either side.
Elerin and Cyrus remained out the corner of Cedric's vision, quietly observing the war council as the Tribunes deliberated over the past week.
"These attacks on our outlying patrols and supply line are becoming more and more frequent." Instead of exchanging pleasantries with his fellow Praetors, Zekram Bael chose to delve into the precise reasons for this emergency meeting.
The commander of his Legion's first Cohort had been killed by Nebiros agents, and the Noble was filled with indignation at the loss of his most seasoned field commanders.
"Why are we incapable of locating these insurgents," Lord Phenex commented. "We have almost two dozen Legions searching the city and the outskirts, and we have come away with nothing but more casualties."
"House Nebiros is one of the few clans proficient in the art of unorthodox warfare." Ajuka Astaroth, the Renegades chief tactician, stepped forward. "Their skin changers are a dangerous asset, and we lack the means and personnel necessary to route them out."
"Our Primus Legionnaires are their primary targets," Sirzechs added. "House Nebiros knows that attacking one of us or our Praetors is a useless gesture, so they are targeting our Cohort Commanders. Already several of my Captains have been killed by skin changers and insurgents from the local population."
"House Nebiros knows the internal workings of our Legions to the tee." Cedric drew all eyes as he strode towards the war table. "I fought alongside Viktor Nebiros during the siege of heaven. His talents lay in deception and speed of movement, all traits our Legions are not accustomed to adapting to."
Viktor Nebiros. The name pricked at his memory.
Cyrus had found a kindred spirit amongst the Devils in Viktor Nebiros. He'd never spoken or met his fellow clan heir, but Viktor's style of warfare was league's above standard devil doctrine.
House Nebiros was one of the few Devil clans that did not adopt a traditional Legion organization. They separate their forces into dozens of teams that act independently of one another. Cyrus surmised that the only chain of command the agents kept was receiving instructions from Viktor himself. This loose command structure prevented any leaks in information, but it also kept their enemies off-balance.
Their modus operandi also revolved around sowing fear and confusion amongst their foes. It is common practice for a skin-changer to ensure that communication between their targets is cut off, thereby isolating Cohorts and exposing them to infiltration.
It is rare that Nebiros Agents voluntarily fight a force able to withstand their might. They prefer to attack weakened or isolated units and refuse to give quarter or mercy to their adversaries.
Their tactical doctrine differed from traditional Devil warfare based upon strength in numbers and direct engagements with their enemy.
Deception and subtly were lost upon the grinding war of attrition that was the Great War. Demonic Legions did not need to engage in otherwise dishonorable tactics and left the duty to be monopolized by House Nebiros.
During the Great War, Nebiros skin changers discovered and relayed vital intelligence to their Legions that proved critical to several Devil victories over their heavenly cousins. However, their efforts remained obscured by the triumphs of the 66th and the 1st Legions.
Cedric and the other Praetors tried to pool together their minimal knowledge of Nebiros tactics to devise a counter-strategy, but every counter had so far been matched. Viktor Nebiros proved that Devil combat doctrine was obsolete, and even the clever tactical mind of Ajuka Astaroth was left reeling in confusion.
"There has to be someone in our ranks capable of routing out these insurgents." Zekram Bael spoke out, earning the council's attention. "Our position in Lucifaad is precarious. If this disease isn't stamped out, we will be forced out of the territory, and the war may drag on another century."
Cedric's eyes wandered in thought; there were few Legionnaires in their ranks that had worked alongside House Nebiros and even fewer that possessed a keen understanding of their motivations.
Ajuka was trying to mold their elite cohorts into effective counters to Nebiros skin changers, but their rigorous training and dogmatic mindset left little room for adjusting to unfamiliar tactics on the fly.
The Renegades needed someone with a fresh perspective on the situation, someone who could look beyond their conventional strategies and was accustomed to operating on a tactical level.
Cedric's gaze inevitably wandered to Cyrus, whose crimson orbs had borne a hole into the war table.
Elerin caught his eye again a few moments later, and the two exchanged knowing glances as Cedric drew everyone's focus back to him.
"Tribunes. I believe I do have someone capable of remedying our situation…." Elerin pulled her son out of his daydream just as Cedric called his name.
"…Cyrus."
"I have no fucking idea how we got here." For once, Cyrus agreed with Ghislaine's statement as the pair stood at the head of their Legion.
"Leave it to father to be this eccentric," Jade remarked and turned towards Cyrus. "Did you have any idea this was going to happen?"
"Not a fucking clue."
The war council had erupted in indignation at Cedric's declaration that his male heir possessed an understanding of Nebiros tactics. In a matter of seconds, Cyrus was commissioned to the rank of Primus Legionnaire and given the task of molding one of the 66th Legion's cohorts into an effective counter-insurgency unit.
The sudden promotion completely blindsided Cyrus, and he'd almost joined the other Tribunes in their protest, but a dose of potent infernal energy from Cedric quieted all disputes.
"My son will handle what we as Tribunes have been incapable of managing. Cyrus will therefore be promoted to Primus and choose one of my cohorts to lead. This is not a debate. This is an order."
Fast forward an hour, and Cyrus was standing at the head of the entire 66th Legion. All thirty thousand of them were eager to fulfill their Primarchs directives to a tee, but only one Cohort would be given the honor of being Cyrus's personal guard.
"You have the pick of the litter," Ghislaine commented lazily.
Cyrus glanced up towards her, she was leaning provocatively against a Griycium spear earning an exasperated glance from Jade, who stood to his right. The Nekoshu was putting on a show for the whole camp to see, but thankfully their Legionnaires were disciplined enough to keep their eyes forward.
The same couldn't be said for their attendants or Jade.
"If you lean anymore on that spear, you'll end up flashing the whole camp." Jade's chastising remarks earned a condescending glance from Ghislaine.
"Is that why you can't keep your eyes off me?" The Nekoshu neglected to wear anything more than loose clothing that showed a generous amount of delectable skin. Cyrus wisely chose to ignore his sisters by play and stepped towards a patiently waiting Eleamus.
"My lord." The Praetor gestured towards his Legion. "Have you made your decision?"
"I…Have." Cyrus was hesitant to choose which of his father's cohorts to take as one of his own at first. The First Cohort seemed to be the most logical choice considering they were Cedric's finest warrior, but Cyrus found them too eager to please.
The same could be said of most 66th cohorts. They were all finely tuned machines bred for a conventional style of warfare but not the kind Cyrus was storming headfirst into. He needed a cohort filled with fresh recruits and mindsets that hadn't been poisoned by legion doctrines just yet.
Only one Cohort fit the mold Cyrus was looking for, and it was also the most unlikely to be chosen out of the ten candidates.
"Give me the 10th." Cyrus's declaration silenced all commotion in the camp, and Eleamus's eyes widened considerably at the selection. Ghislaine and Jade's argument also came to a screeching halt, and Cyrus could feel their eyes boring into the back of his skull.
Each detachment of the 66th Legion had a nickname, and the 10th was appropriately dubbed "The Forsaken" because of their propensity for losing its best Legionnaires to death or other transfers to more elite Cohorts such as the 1st and 2nd.
Of all the units Cyrus could have chosen, the 10th Cohort was the most unlikely of choices to be his vanguard, and the other Primus Legionnaires could scarcely believe they had not been selected.
But Cyrus seemed to be the only one to realize that the 10th was a factory that constantly churned out fresh talent. Talent that he was counting on molding into his own personal Hunters.
"Arkias!" Eleamus recovered from his stupor and called forth the 10th Cohort's stunned commander. "Step forward!"
Primus Legionnaire Sezran Arkias started his service with the 11th reserve Cohort before transferring to the 10th after the Great War. He'd been in charge of the Forsaken for only two years, and the Legion's more experienced Cohorts had easily overtaken them in victories and honor.
It was no secret that they were at the bottom of the litter in choices, and the 10th wasn't expecting to be selected as Cyrus's personal Cohort. Their shock resonated with the rest of their sister cohorts, but none dared to question their Lord's command.
Eleamus stood taller than the rest of the Legion, and his voice boomed for all to hear. "Our Lord has chosen the 10th as his iron fist. Does anyone disagree with this nomination?"
None spoke in disagreement, and only a fool would deny the honor of becoming a High Lord's honor guard, and Arkias was no fool.
The Primus Legionnaire glanced over his shoulder towards his Guardsmen, who stared back with muted disbelief. Their black cloaks billowed in the wind, revealing finely tuned carapace with the 10th Cohorts insignia emblazoned on their shoulders.
None within the Legion respected the 10th for good reason, but Cyrus either didn't know or didn't care about their reputation. Arkias subconsciously gripped his spear a little tighter, threatening to shatter the Gricyium lance in hand.
They would not be found wanting.
"The Forsaken stands ready to execute our Lord's commands." Arkias banged his lance against his shield, an action mimicked by 3,000 Legionnaires of the 10th Cohort. Griycium shields smashed against Pretrium lances, and a sound as beautiful as it was haunting echoed across the encampment.
"Hmm," Ghislaine purred with amusement at the 10th's unified response to Cyrus's choice. "I think they like you."
"The rest of our Legion disagree with your selection." Jade carefully observed the tightened postures of the other Cohorts. "They feel slighted, angered that the 10th were chosen over anyone of them."
"They'll get over it, Jade." Ghislaine leaned against Cyrus, earning a scathing glance from her sibling. "It's not like this is the first time the Legions took issue with our selection."
Many of the veteran Cohorts, such as the 1st and 3rd, privately objected to Jade's choice of the 2nd Cohort as her personal guard but did not overtly condemn her selection. Instead, they showed their dissent by conducting themselves with distinction during a deployment into the Blighted marshlands.
On the suspected orders of Bashalum Beelzebub, a significant number of bandits and mercenaries raided their caravans. Cedric sent a third of his Legion into the marshlands to clear it out and look for any evidence of the Satan's involvement.
They found no verification of Bashulum's meddling, but the campaign demonstrated that Jade's decision to adopt the 2nd Cohort as her own was sound.
Tharathon, the 2nd's Primus Legionnaire, and Jade had a symbiotic relationship; their shared temperament guaranteed that the 'Sons of Kimaris' were a perfect match for their future Matriarch.
It remained to be seen if Cyrus was capable of establishing the same rapport with the 10th.
Eleamus dismissed the Legion, but Arkias and the 10th Cohort remained rooted in place, not out of disrespect of their Praetor but because they awaited their Lord's command.
Ghislaine sighed dramatically and wrapped an arm over Cyrus' neck, flaunting her enticing physique. " You have your work cut out for you, little brother. I hope you're up to it."
He untangled himself from the Nekoshu and cast her a stern look. The very last thing he needed was for her to humiliate him in front of his new Cohort.
Jade silently took Ghislaine by her arm and pulled her out of sight from the 10th. She was joined by Eleamus, who spared Cyrus a respectful nod before falling from view.
The Spartan was beset by over 3,000 Legionnaires who anxiously awaited his command. The grounds for their selection were well-known, and each of them pondered what their futures would be like under him.
Cyrus stepped forward. His crimson eyes peered into the souls of every Legionnaire in the 10th. The Spartan searched for weakness either in posture or expressions to weed out, and there were more than a few who stood out to him.
Devils are emotional beings that display their emotions on their sleeves. They could carve their faces into granite all they wished, but it was their eyes that told the story. Most of his species found it nearly impossible to disguise their emotions; they were far too potent to be concealed, and suppressing their sentiments posed a risk to themselves and others.
Cyrus was no exception to this rule, but he refused to share any more similarities between himself and his….people.
The Spartan shoved these stray thoughts to the back of his consciousness, focusing entirely on his new private army. While Cedric was in charge of the 66th Legion as a whole, the 10th were Cyrus's personal units, which he could instruct, command, and discipline as he saw necessary.
It was time to make this new chain of command clear for all to see.
"This Cohort will be trained to MY SPECIFICATIONS." Potent demonic energy licked at Cyrus's frame. "I will only accept those who are willing and qualified to meet my standards. If I find you lacking, you will be transferred to another Cohort…."
The 10th's few veteran Legionnaire's silently begrudged this ultimatum. Being forcibly transferred from one's Cohort was deemed a tremendous humiliation.
Cyrus was playing on a Devil's pride.
"…Your training as Legionnaires will not assist you. Everything you have learned under the tutelage of our Immunes will be inadequate…."
The Legions were eerily similar to the Roman army of ancient times, with a few adjustments to account for a Devil's unique capabilities. Their wings necessitated aerial combat, and their Lances functioned similarly to firearms, albeit with notable limitations.
The Devil's war doctrine was a baffling mixture of modern and ancient tactics, all crammed into a somewhat seamless army made for conventional warfare. A doctrine was that easily exploited by those with an in-depth knowledge of the Demonic Legions such as House Nebiros.
Cyrus needed to erase the indoctrination and training that these Legionnaires had already undergone if he was to achieve the task at hand.
The severe lack of experience and veterans is one of the primary reasons the 10th was selected as Cyrus's personal guard.
But first, he had to break them.
"…I will mold you into guardsmen capable of hunting these Skin Walkers and any who serve under them, but it will not be celebrated. You do not take the field for superficial indulgences such as recognition or honor…."
Arkias felt the outrage growing within his Cohort. Every Devil that joined Samael's Legions did so to execute enemies of their Lord with honor and glory that would be recognized for millennia.
Lord Cyrus's condemnation of such beliefs as fallacies was an indictment of all the Legions stood for.
And just as the 10th's contempt for their new commander reached a fever pitch, and an all-too-familiar sensation overwhelmed them.
Fear.
A tidal wave of shadows spilled out of every inch of Cyrus's flesh, splashing in between the Cohorts formation like a consuming tidal wave.
"…You take to the field for one purpose and one purpose alone…."
As tendrils glided across carapace and war lance, none dared to move a single inch.
Not the Centurions.
Not the Fresh-faced Legionnaires.
And not even the Veterans of the Great War dared to draw their Lord's ire.
"…To execute my will above all else…."
Hovering off to Cyrus's side was a pair of Azure orbs flashing with amusement and adulation. Elerin shadowed her only son when Cedric did not need her by his side, and these moments of personal time were few and far between.
It was unheard of for a Noble to command a Cohort at such an early age; not even Sirzechs was appointed commander of a Cohort until he was sixteen years of age. Cyrus was ten years younger than the Gremory, but he was different from the rest of his kind.
A Spartan's mind nestled inside a Devil's body.
The possibilities were endless, and Elerin was eager to watch Cyrus bloom into the greatest her kind had to offer.
But he needed an army at his back, and the 10th would become his vanguard into the future.
The shadow's bent to Cyrus's will and his demonstration over House Kimaris's ancestral power stunned Arkias.
It wasn't long ago that many of the Legion's officers found a new form of amusement watching the little Lordling's training sessions with Lady Ghislaine and Matriarch Elerin. Ghislaine often asked her subordinates to spar with Cyrus to gauge the difference in skill between the Centurions and himself.
Arkias only observed one of Cyrus's sparring sessions, and he demonstrated an aptitude that suited his station. Still, Cedric remained the only member of House Kimaris that proved capable of subjugating the shadows at his beck and call.
At least until now.
Darkness engulfed Arkias, and demonic whispers brushed against his ear, daring him to shift or balk so they may feast on his flesh.
"…If I find you lacking in spirit or skill. If you decide that your age and experience gives you influence over me…."
Each and every member of the 10th Cohort felt icy fingers gripping their hearts in a vice-like grip as Cyrus took one step forward. His remarks were spoken in a deep, ominous tone that would eternally remind Arkias and his men the price of defiance.
"…You will die…."
Cyrus had minimal tolerance for these devils, a sentiment borne out of his distaste for most of them due to their gross indulgence in sin. It was possible that some didn't justify his contempt, but for now, they were faceless creatures that deserved neither pity nor admiration, and they would either conform to his way of thinking or die in the process.
"…It's your will against mine, and you will lose."
He would not tolerate dissension or failure.
Ghislaine managed to extract herself from Jade's confinement just as Arkias and his Cohort were dismissed from the rallying field. Cyrus momentarily glanced in her direction before returning his gaze to Arkias as his men dispersed.
He had put on quite the act to alter his Cohorts impression of him. Cyrus did not want the 10th to see him as a boisterous child who was beyond his depth.
They needed to see him as their commander above all else, and while his actions may have ruffled a few feathers, he was more than willing to take a popularity hit to draw a line in the sand.
But damned was he tired.
"I think that went well." The Nekoshu's easy grin fell when Cyrus collapsed, and she dashed forward just in time to keep his skull from crashing into the floor.
"Should have known you exerted yourself too much." Ghislaine's exhaled in amusement. "Fucking idiot."
"At least he's our idiot." Ghislaine's ears perked up at Jade's voice, and she turned to see her sister and mother approaching them. "He's learning at an astonishing rate, and I wouldn't be surprised if he could match us in a few years. I didn't think he had a firm grasp on our Sgàil just yet."
"There's a lot we don't know about, Cyrus." Elerin said as she came to a knee, threading a hand through his raven locks before coming to a silent conclusion.
"Come along, Ghislaine." Elerin gently grasped the Nekoshu's shoulder and gestured for her to carry Cyrus. "I'm sure he would appreciate waking up in his tent rather than on a dirt floor."
"As you say mother, but I doubt the little shit would appreciate the labor involved or say thank you." Ghislaine turned Cyrus on his back and carefully adjusted him in her arms. He was heavier now than the countless times she would carry him to bed, but he never whined or sought attention.
A trait that his family didn't realize was a blessing as much as it was a curse.
Ghislaine leaned his head against her collarbone, enjoying the peaceful expression etched into this face before turning towards her mother. "I don't suppose you could make that stew of yours?"
"I'm sure I can manage." Elerin's enriching laugh tingled at the back of her daughter's mind. "Now, move along. I have a meeting with your father later tonight."
Jade and Ghislaine exchanged knowing looks that Elerin pointedly ignored. What she and Cedric got up to in private was their business and no one else's.
Besides, they wouldn't take very long. Elerin wanted to spend time with her son before he departed from the camp with his Cohort. She didn't know when or where she would see Cyrus again. He demanded that he be allowed to take the 10th on a prolonged training cycle to the Blighted Marshlands, and her idiot husband agreed.
So all she could do was savor the time she had, even if Cyrus slept through most of it.
The following morning, the 'Forsaken' were seen marching into the Blighted Marshlands with Cyrus at the helm. Ghislaine tagged along, unwilling to let the Gaiseadh feast on her idiotic brother in his sleep.
Cedric watched their departure from the skies, turning back towards his tent when his son finally fell out of sight.
For nearly a year, the 10th Cohort was isolated from its Legion, spending seven months within the harsh confines of the Blighted Marshlands.
The civil war reached its third year, and the casualties continued to climb as both sides traded stunning victories and crushing defeats. Through it, all whispers reached Cedric's ears that the 10th had their numbers nearly cut in half.
Whether it was by attrition or Cyrus himself remained a mystery to the curious.
Reports became scattered amongst his spies that small pockets of Blackguards from the 10th were seen entering small settlements for several days before returning to the Marshlands. Cyrus led these random incursions for reasons unknown that baffled his agents.
What was clear was that each incursion severely impacted Loyalists' insurrections in the immediate area. Cedric's local agents would report that Cyrus had made an entire Nebiros cell disappear in little more than a few days leaving behind traces for the garrisoned Legionnaires to pick up on.
Cedric's men attempted to communicate with the 10th, but all efforts were stonewalled or ignored entirely. Cyrus had no desire to connect with Cedric's men and continued to lead his Cohort as he saw fit.
After half a year in isolation, credible evidence of the 'Forsakens' emergence came from a report originating from the Lucifaad City of Nova Babylon. 3,000 Blackguards bearing the 10th Cohort's insignia marched through the city gates searching for Skin Walkers and Loyalist insurgents hidden among the populace.
Cyrus and his men finally returned to the civilized world of Devils and Angels. But they weren't the same men and women who marched into the Blighted Marshlands with their heads held high.
They walked into the swamp as Legionnaires and came out Hunters.
Cedric could not stop the grin from spreading across his face. His son was beginning to exhibit his true potential.
And he couldn't wait to watch the world burn under his gaze.
Ah it's good to be back. Some of you may know and others not so much that but this story won a poll recently and earned the spot of being updated once a week. I have chosen Friday as my go-to day and you can look forward to weekly updates after next week.
Unfortunately, I have a funeral to attend this weekend and already it is looking like a very shity occasion because fights will break out. It's not a good sign when your father tells you to stay near the exit.
Regardless here is Chapter 6.
As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and remember to PLEASE! review to your heart's content every little bit helps my motivation.
Reviews: Goddamn there's a lot to answer.
Otto Morris: Covenant do not exist and Cyrus will return to his good old firearms with modifications.
Laplase: Baby steps, baby steps but he will attain the same lethality he was known for.
VGBlackwing: Yes it is before cannon by a still-undetermined amount of time that I have not decided yet.
Bluzerker: Honsetly I'm not feeling the Incest route myself, but I'm going to do what's best for the story so it may end up going both ways.
Next Chapter: November 26th earliest, December 3rd latest.
The next chapter is available on my Pa t re on for those who would like to see it. The Link is below.
www .(p)at (r) e o n. co (m) /Cypher1597 (remove the spaces and () to access)