Already Set In Motion Pt. I

Two Months Later

Smoke poured into the sky all across the war-torn desert as Aleron stood upon the ridge top. The sounds of battle pierced the distance while Aleron shifted his eyes from the giant bloody mess in the middle to the slowly approaching mass identified as an Ajoan counterattack. Centurion Arman of the 5th shouted an order and the column of veterans of the 5th 6th and 9th centuries began their quick march to intercept the Ajoan reinforcements on the desert plane as a string of loud gunshots burst from the primary chaotic brawl. Just then, the urgent voice of Decanus Gula entered Aleron's ears, "Aleron! Follow"

Aleron turned from the distant battle to immediately join the entourage of centurion staff officers headed by the Prime commander of the Interfector's personal guard believed to have been called "Prime Decanus Dalton" at the time. Aleron joined his senior, Gula, on the urgent walk as more of the staff legionaries at the camp were called to join the entourage all the way to the command tent. The sixteen officers entered the tent and approached the center where The Killer paced back and forth in a frustrated manner.

The commander stopped his pacing when all had entered, and paused with his hands on the table when Centurion Galio of the 9th approached. The Killer looked to the man calm and expectingly when Galio spoke, "Dominus, the Veterans are moving to intercept the reinforcements, but the situation in the center has us taking heavy losses-"

Seemingly continuing an argument or conversation from before the staff arrived, The Interfector interrupted, "And if we don't intercept the savages' backup, our center will take even more losses."

Galio spoke in respectful disagreement with his superior, "Lord Interfector, if we fall in the main battle, the Veterans may be too fatigued or suffered too many losses to even reinforce the center. If the Veterans become too bogged down in the counterattack, they may not even have a center to reinforce by the time they get there."

The Interfector's face turned from a listening expression to another strange mix resembling something of frustration and understanding at the same time. The Commander said, "Well, the order to intercept was already given.. Gula?"

"Yes, Dominus?" said Aleron's senior.

"You had Decanus Aleron pass the order to Centurion Arman, correct?" asked the Commander.

"Correct-" said Gula before the Interfector instantly turned to Centurion Galio and said, "So what you're saying is that timing is key here?"

Centurion Galio responded, "And strength. The sooner that force is dealt with, the less chance we have of losing our entire center… And possibly even this fight."

The Interfector's face was locked in concentration for only a few long and drawn out seconds before saying in frustrated but calm demeanor, "Well, Get out! Fall out outside! All of you!..."

Not sure what's happening, but instinctively carrying out the order, all the staff soldiers automatically began to file out the entrance while the Interfector's orders were detailed in the form of an authoritative voice over the shuffle of footsteps;

"Dalton, you take the staff corps and have them bolster the Veterans' interception! Galio, have someone run word to your scouts around the center; have them do what they can from range, and bring up one of our auxilia units to keep distant and fortify our ranged troops! I need three lines of guns doing everything they can to keep our center alive! Dalton, ensure this counterattack is taken care of fast!"

The staff officers who'd normally graduated from places on the frontlines in exchange for general military administrative duties were not always spared from getting into the sand pits of desert warfare. Of course they knew this, but it wasn't often that a battle was in such a situation to order their "Desk jockeys" (In other armies) into the frey. In the Legion, nobody was safe from ending lives or getting sprayed with blood in the name of Caesar, something the staff officers of Legion units everywhere longed for after gaining their more "cushy" position. Despite the terrifying nature of the strategic position the commanders of Caesar's Southern Campaign found themselves in, the desperation of it, and order into the carnage was celebrated by each staff officer including Aleron as they formed up outside.

The Prime commander of The Killer's guard, "Dalton" took the head of the small staff force and they all began a running march through the camp toward the war torn desert plane. Across the camp, slaves led by tribal auxiliary troops came from the distant battle, hauling the Legion casualties back to camp in an effort to heal or salvage from the fallen. A row of wounded or dead legionaries lined the wall of the forward healing tent where the 6th's Grama lifted each soldier's head, briefly checked for life or death, swore over the distant screams of battle, and moved right along.

Aleron followed in the loose formation right behind Dalton the Prime who gave the order to sprint upon passing the last of the camp's outer tents. The 16 stormed across the desert floor, keeping distant from the primary fight marking the center at risk of falling. Their tribal auxiliary gunners charged out beside the staff reinforcements, veering off to establish the Interfector's line of guns and Aleron focused on what was ahead. Dalton the Prime had shifted the staff north where they saw the solid column of Veterans slowly approaching the swarm of Ajoan reinforcements. With the Veterans being the only obstruction between the fresh Ajoans and the dire situation of their center, Prime Decanus Dalton had positioned the staff to smash into the Ajoan's flanking force.

The staff slowed their sprint upon getting closer and the sounds of carnage were louder than ever. Decanus Dalton was seemingly slowing for ranged fight when the tightly packed Veteran formation met with the flanking Ajoans. Just before the clash of steel, Aleron saw the front line of Veterans unleash a volley of lead while a couple dozen spears came flying out from the back of the formation. The spree of gunshots from the front ended when the swarm of Ajoans stormed over their fallen and smashed into the veteran formation. Aleron was fixated on the battle, despite being in the middle of reloading his repeating rifle. Having no memory of being given the order to fire, he was one of thousands in the Legion able to act upon orders with his mind being anywhere else. The line of guns to his left and right thundered and Aleron began instinctively firing again as he watched Ajoans climbing over their brothers in the front line and flinging themselves into the middle of the Veteran's formation.

The Veteran formation began to break as more and more Ajoans threw themselves on it from above and the whole thing turned into a chaotic mess. Decanus Dalton saw this too and gave the roaring order to charge. Aleron threw his rifle over his back, and drew his blade dipped in rancid blood as he and the other Staff veterans began to storm into the battle.

Several Ajoans on the outer edge noticed the staff charge forth, but by the time they did, it was too late and Aleron slammed himself into one of them. On the desert floor, Aleron saw the petrified face of an enemy taken off guard and lodged his blade into the man's head. He whipped around to find himself in the middle of the fight with masked legionaries in red all engaged against vicious tribal warriors covered in tattoos and bedecked in wood and leather armor. Though nearly impossible to tell who was who, Aleron had been Legion long enough to know it was Gula who was the soldier swinging the fire axe around his head, keeping 4 tribals with spears at distance. Though the Prime named "Dalton" was another "Unknown" by his relation to the Interfector, Aleron could tell he was the servant of Caesar who slid a machete out of an Ajoan's stomach and began calmly reloading a high-tech looking dusty pistol. He also recognized a few of his colleagues in Centurion Theracos' staff, but a thought that hadn't entered his mind in weeks finally did in that moment, "Where's Decanus Montano?"

Of course Montano was in charge of the 6th's contubernium of veterans. The 6th's veterans would have been in the middle of the intercepting formation… Aleron didn't have much longer to think about anything when an Ajoan warrior was declared victor against a newly killed veteran legionary and thought Aleron would be the next victim.

As the tribal charged Aleron through the chaos, Aleron picked up a sledgehammer off the desert floor and swung the heavy steel block behind him, ready to turn the charging tribal into paste… Only, that didn't happen.

When Aleron brought the heavy weapon behind, he felt it crack against something made of solid and reinforced plastic. Against all instincts, Aleron turned around mid-fight to see who he hit. There in the dirt, Aleron saw the fan of feathers indicating a Legion Veteran Decanus slowly standing to his feet with the side of his helmet and part of his plume smashed inward. Not anything critical, but certainly enough to knock a sturdy and muscular veteran to the ground. Time again seemed to slow as Aleron watched the Decanus rise. Upon lifting his head, the Decanus scanned the one who'd knocked him over and saw Aleron standing there with the sledgehammer still slightly raised. Aleron saw that his accidental blow had knocked the goggles off the eyes off the man, and upon meeting those eyes, he knew: Montano.

In an instant after what felt like forever, Aleron remembered the Ajoan charging him, whipped around, and saw the man had been tackled by a nameless veteran before reaching Aleron. Just as he was about to turn back to Montano or find a new Ajoan to kill, someone slammed into Aleron. Thrown to the ground and completely disoriented, Aleron's wild vision returned when he was rolled over, and there he saw Montano sitting atop him with his face exposed. Aleron's dirty goggles were torn from his head and he saw Montano's sneering face beneath a nearly totaled helmet. Dust choked Aleron as he felt the pressure of Montano atop his armor and saw that face scream the words, "COULDN'T LEAVE ME BE!? WORTHLESS DOG!"

Suddenly, a hand full of sand was slammed into Aleron's eyes and he could no longer see as he felt blow after blow land on his face. The deafening mix of screams, clashing steel, and gunshots of battle got steadily quieter as each blow struck Aleron's face. He felt his nose burst, his cheek crack, and maybe a tooth or two slide into his dust coated throat. Unable to do just about anything, Aleron's face was continually beaten as he swung his machete around wildly, not sure if the parts of Montano he did hit were of damaged in any way. Blow after blow, Aleron stopped feeling, and his attempted defense was growing weaker and weaker while the sounds around him got quieter and quieter until… Darkness.

Aleron thought he spent a long time unconscious, but in reality, it was only a few moments after Aleron passed out that Montano ended his assault. After which, Aleron came to almost immediately and felt the weight of Montano get hauled off of him and senses slowly begin to return as his mind sparked steadily back to life. Aleron felt himself getting dragged by some unknown person until his sense of hearing returned. The battle against the Ajoans' flanking force had ended by the sounds of things though the battle in the center was still going strong. Upon hearing that, Aleron heard the distinct voice of Decanus Gula barking in a seemingly incoherent way and felt the arms dragging him stop. Just then, Aleron felt warm water pour over his eyes and his vision slowly returned, but was still blurry by a newly swollen layer of skin around his eyes. More water was poured over his eyes and he heard the voice of Prime Decanus Dalton sound from right above him, "Bring up Centurion Arman!... Can you see anything, Aleron?"

Aleron's throat was still coated in dust, teeth, and blood, but he managed to sputter an assurance and nod before Dalton lifted a canteen to Aleron's mouth. Aleron looked straight ahead while his vision refocused, and even more senses returned. He felt the continuing concussion but painfully looked around to see the remainder of the veterans and staff reorganizing amid the corpses of Legion and Ajoan alike. Aleron was stuck looking forward ten yards from him where all he could really see was Decanus Montano sitting in a similar upright position, but restrained by three large legionaries, and with Decanus Gula marching back and forth, sputtering incoherent anger. Though he couldn't clearly see the face of Montano, Aleron could imagine his grin upon looking at the work he'd done to Aleron's face.

None of that mattered when Aleron heard the heavy footsteps of someone and heard the winded words of Centurion Arman, "Prime! You called for me!? I take it you have further order from our Dominus!?"

Dalton responded as Aleron's head slumped into his own chest, "Yes Centurion. Take your veterans and the rest of this staff and move on the center. Fast."

Centurion Arman began to march to the head of the surviving veterans when he stopped and said, "Decanus Montano! Get up and take your place-"

Montano started standing when Decanus Gula interrupted, "Centurion, I am to see Decanus Montano and Aleron here back to camp… By Centurion Theracos' order."

In that moment, the Centurion head of the cohort's veteran reserves really saw the situation beside the newly assembled remainder. His eyes flipped from Aleron whose face was battered into oblivion, and Montano who was standing, but still restrained by three veterans. Arman's face switched from study to rage as he shouted, "I have no time for this!... Fine! Get them out of here, and have The Killer move a detachment of auxilia to bolster our right!..."

He motioned to the soldiers restraining Montano and shouted, "You three! Fall in! Gula, you and Dalton see those two back to camp! Ensure they're crucified!"

Prime Decanus Dalton responded, "Yes Centurion!" as Arman stormed off to lead the rest of the veterans and staff. Aleron barely heard any of that as a new wave of pain came over him and began struggling just for consciousness. Montano was released from the grip of the three legionaries but was ordered to move by Gula who held him at pistol point. A nearly unnecessary gesture since Montano had resigned himself to whatever Centurion Theracos had in mind for such a relapse. Whether it was crucifixion, some lesser torture, or even time in the slave pens at some distant Legion outpost, Montano casually walked back to camp in front of Gula and beside the unconscious man on the Prime's shoulders. Montano felt finally satisfied.