The 30th Arrow
12 Days Later
When the available strike groups arrived on the scene our duelists discovered, they did so with the other groups that got word first. As stated previously, the Hidebarks in that hidden village didn't know they'd been discovered until it was far too late. When the Interfector got word, Caesar had been informed at the same time, and more forces were moved on it while keeping that battle going in the south. Before the Hidebarks could pack up and move, they were being watched by almost all the available strike groups who weren't occupied in the southern battle zone, and when they realized this, they sent what few messengers they could out before they were completely surrounded. Sending out these messengers ended up being an enormous mistake on their part because it sealed their end as the encircling legionaries began digging trenches and erecting barricades around the village. When those messengers reached their forces across the region, all of them were recalled and the forces keeping distraction on the south began fleeing, allowing for easy Legion capture. Those messengers essentially pleaded for backup in that their chief and elders had been discovered.
The village that would have flown under the radar and been considered any other Hidebark mobile camp had its cover blown as the leadership's home because of that mass recall of their warriors. This was it, the chieftains were surrounded, and all of their returning forces fled straight and disorganized into the Legion blockade made by those local strike groups. With the mass of Legion forces cleaning up after their surprisingly abrupt victory in the southern battle zone, it wasn't too long until the Hidebark warriors who'd made it to the small siege line got sandwiched by the Legion's main force that quickly mobilized from the south. Where the Legion found themselves was with a whole lot of captured warriors and surrounding a few hundred civilians trapped in their home. Though the Legion didn't know they were laying siege to the leadership's home on arrival, the return and subsequent capture of all those Hidebarks trying to help was what gave the first clue to Caesar that this was nearly over. Despite the war against the Hidebarks being nearly over, the Hidebarks were a proud people that had no intention of surrendering to anyone.
Of the few warriors that were protecting the village before the siege, it was clear from the moment they knew they were found that even those in camp never intended to give up on that first day. Not even on that second day when the first captives of their returning ambush parties were displayed on the cliffs, holding white cloths. It wasn't even on that 3rd and 4th day when their warriors keeping attention on the south were brought to those same cliffs, again holding white flags and begging their chiefs to surrender. It was on day five when the first Legion emissary was sent down into the village, only to return with a refusal and without a head. The chief of the Hidebarks was the responder to the message, and that was also when the sign came up.
When Caesar learned that the head chief himself was in the village, and after seeing what was done to his envoy, he still intended to deal with the situation diplomatically. A large sign was made on the section of the Legion line housing the leadership that said, "Hydba'ak Kaifal Anoo Mortilla'ka", or roughly translated to "Hidebark Leaders Will Be Spared" if only they'd surrender.
The Hidebark response to this was to send an attack forward directly at the encircling Legion force. This was surprising because it was believed to be mostly women and children in the camp, but that was only partially true and didn't account for the fact that even Hidebark women and able children were also more than willing to fight when their warriors couldn't. The force was repelled, and the siege line's walls were constructed a little higher with the bodies of the dead. What Caesar saw as his very own Siege of Alesia was taking place, and he admired the resolve of their leaders, so the sign stayed up… Even as his leniency failed, and the surrendered warriors were slowly executed before the Hidebarks' eyes.
After the failed assault on the Legion's line, Caesar's patience was gone, and day 6 started with a group of captives falling lifeless from those cliffs. When the bodies fell, the only answer from the surrounded village was a lone arrow in the large sign, shot by a single figure from the middle of the camp. With the executions happening to 3 or 4 captives 5 times a day since the failed assault, it was easy to see a pattern. 5 days and 25 new arrows had pelted the sign, and all from the same large figure at the bottom of the valley. Each attempt to demoralize the tribe was met by that one giant with a bow apparently showing the chieftain's response to the scene. What was interesting to all at the time was how that lone figure never moved, even as the injured around him moved about or people were collapsing from lack of water and food. More bodies fell from the cliffs, and there was no clear sign that the Hidebarks ever intended to surrender if what that giant kept doing to the sign was any indication.
On the 11th day, another envoy was sent telling complete destruction if the Chieftains didn't surrender on the 13th day. The response from the message was never received since the envoy was on his way back when he was dropped to the ground by that bow-wielding giant. It was only when the giant walked closer to the line to retrieve his arrow and then mutilate the corpse that many legionaries got a closer look at him.
Caesar was waiting for the envoy to arrive at the edge of the line when his praetorians formed a wall in front of him for protection. Caesar had them stand down and halt the legionaries in range as the giant approached and began his work. Caesar stared at that Hidebark giant in wonder, somehow knowing that man could kill him with another arrow, but never would. Just as he thought, Caesar watched that monster yank the long arrow out of the envoy, destroy the body with a large axe, and when he was done, the giant threw the envoy's head so far it nearly landed at Caesar's own feet. It was then that he walked back to the village, back to the same spot, ready to put one more arrow in the sign whenever the next batch of warriors fell.
It was on the night of the 12th day of the Legion's small siege that our story resumes. In only a few more hours, it was going to be the 13th day, and the Hidebarks would have to either surrender or be destroyed. Little did they know, both answers led to the same outcome; just by different means.
The Interfector poured a bit of water on his cloth as he dabbed the doctor's eye, "… I told you it ain't a good idea to talk to Caesar unless he talks to you first. Those praetorians are very serious around him."
"I just corrected what you were telling him about the status of our injured," said Doctor Stinson, wincing at the Elite's careful work.
"Yeah, and he was talking to Me about that, not You doc. I thought you'd know by now that he isn't just a guy you can say 'words' to whenever," said the Elite as he picked residue away from the doctor's swollen shut eyelid.
The doctor, largely collected by this point, said, "Still, those predatorians didn't have to do all... that…" as he recalled his merciless pummeling by 4 sunglasses-wearing gentlemen only 30 minutes earlier.
"And they would've done a lot more if Caesar wasn't so irritated by your cr-... shouting." Replied the Interfector as he placed three more gold coins on the little table next to the doctor.
Upon hearing the jingle, Doctor Stinson gently pushed the Elite's hand away as he made 'eye' contact with the man, "Look, we gotta talk about my terms…"
"Shoot," said the Murderer as he got back to work on the other side of the doctor's head.
"… When I signed on, I thought you said I'd mostly be staying back at Long Shadows?"
"Change of plans I know, but look, these past couple months ain't been That bad for you!..." scrubbing around the open part of the doc's head, the Interfector added, "… You just gotta stop getting the shit kicked out of yourself. You alone are going to bankrupt me."
"I'll say again, you don't gotta keep paying me so generously, I'm already able to probably buy Two Sun itself when I get back…" responded the doctor feeling somewhat ashamed of his conduct and how many bruises it has caused, but still remaining thankful for the amount of money he's been getting.
"Well stop getting beat up. I sort of feel like I have to compensate you each time since I feel so bad…"
"And I appreciate that Lord Inter-Primus, but I just gotta say it now: I didn't really sign up for all this. So, after this, I think I'm done."
"You can go as soon as we return back to Long Shadows and I'll completely understand. No hard feelings. Plus, this campaign against the Hidebarks is almost done and I'm not sure we'll treat too many of them… Unless you wanna take a look at that Hidebark Giant's corpse after we take him out tomorrow. Ha."
"Not really feeling up to an autopsy and I highly doubt that monster would need any of my expertise even if he ends up getting beaten into a slave pen. I hadn't come across too many people who actually like being healed since entering your employment, neither tribals nor legionnaires. In fact, I'd prefer to get as far away from guys like him and guys like predatorians as soon as possible."
"Yeah, the word 'wounded' is almost a personal insult around here... Anyway, your work has been very appreciated, even if you don't hear it, and I'm sure I've compensated you adequately enough. Plus! Now you can add 'Battlefield experience' to the old doctor reputation back home-" joked the Interfector before turning towards a rustling by his tent's opening.
Just then, Dalton came into the Interfector's tent saying "That makes 30."
The Murderer gave Dalton a nod as he wrapped the doc's head and asked, "The 30th arrow huh? I suppose that's the last one till tomorrow when it's showtime."
Dalton asked "What's Caesar been waiting for anyway, Boss? These people won't surrender… At least that monster won't. I'll say we been wasting our time since that first arrow hit the sign."
"I'm inclined to agree, but Caesar usually has interesting ways of handling this sort of thing. Plus starving them out with this siege and breaking them down gets us a head start on the old assimilation routine. Either way, tomorrow should be exciting. I wanna see that monster up close again. So does doc, ain't that right?"
Startled by his sudden draft into the conversation, Doc asked, "Who? Me?"
Dalton chuckled at the doc's pulverized condition and unawareness as the Murderer finished his wrapping and slapped the man's back saying, "I think you're about good to go. Get up, slugger. Quit taking all those beatings. I'll consider it a personal favor."
The doctor nodded, thanked the doctor, and scrambled out the entrance on command back to his healing tent, hopefully for a slow night and without any other beatings from his employers despite how lucrative they often end up being. The Murderer and Dalton then took their seats by the fire for the night in.
Montano had just finished ravaging Clara or "Making sweet love to her" as she'd say while he began dressing back into his uniform only. He sat there, still resting on the cot and dressing in his casual tunic and undergarments while his woman pulled the thin blanket up to cover herself.
"It's freezing in here," said the woman, curling further into her blanket and body.
Montano only responded, "Make a fire then."
"I just want to cuddle up," was the woman's response, and was one Montano expected. Upon turning to the woman curled into the blanket and looking at him lovingly, he felt disgusted by the fact she was seemingly attempting to subvert a directive.
"Make. A. Fire." ordered Montano to indicate he was serious.
Clara stood herself up, saddened that the man in no way shared her desires, but also used to his behaviors as she got out of the bed and approached the fire cage in the center of his personal tent. As she went about making a fire, adding the kindling, and setting up the appropriate log structure for an efficient fire, she was talking the entire time.
She'd always do what she was told, even after her attempts at breaking through the man's iron skin fell short, and for some reason she'd always talk whenever he was near. Montano assumed she was talking to him, but never truly took time to listen as she told him about her day and what she did, or refreshed him on everything she'd been up to after he'd been gone multiple days. Montano recalled the fact that Clara almost never shut her mouth when they were alone and found himself wondering how so many words could come out of one small mouth. As Montano sat there on the cot, he was still thinking about the woman's words, not what she was saying in particular, just the fact that she talked in general. What was especially bewildering to him was how he recalled her talking almost the entire time he was doing stuff to her as well. This of course wasn't unusual, but as the woman spoke at him while she made the fire, he figured she just enjoyed hearing her own voice.
Some would call the slim young woman's voice "Sweet", but not Montano. He found her words to be rather irritating if he actually listened to them for too long. Then he began wondering if she would ever stop talking. Again, he wasn't even listening to her or participating in the conversation, but he could hear the sound and began to wonder if cutting her head off would cease the noise he found to be almost endless. He considered doing that, but refrained from it because he somehow imagined that even decapitation wouldn't stop her from moving her lips. Also, it would be hard to find time to decapitate her during tomorrow's busy day of annihilating the Hidebarks, and he was too spent from their previous activity to do it that night... This was something he regularly scheduled to do to her, but seemingly always failed to carry out due to some minuscule obstruction or another that always ended up being more urgent.
As she continued talking and Montano kept thinking, he wondered why he even let her talk in the first place? She was a slave, so he could silence her if he treated her like any other slave, and with enough real abuse, but for some reason he never assaulted her at least physically. He figured he refrained from harming her for talking for the same reason some wasters listen to old radio static or local stations that play the same 8 songs on repeat: It was just something irrelevant going on to create a false sense of companionship while you think about more important things. His mind drifted on, curious if any wasters out there destroy their radios if they won't turn off. As he again contemplated Clara's destruction, he began wondering why he even kept Clara around at all. Just as he thought that, the woman bent over to pick up another log for the fire, and he remembered.
That's right, he somewhat admired her dumb obedience and willingness to put out on command. It should be quickly noted that Clara herself was a very smart woman, and though there were seemingly gaps in her logic and actions, her character was a unique one that will require later study. Thinking about the most recent encounter with his "Lover" he began considering the possibilities of getting another servant, perhaps one that Clara could make noise to as opposed to himself. Then he considered whether or not the new slave would have the same sexual desire and blind obedience Clara came with. Likely not, and creating the kind of slave like Clara the servant was a timely endeavor. The time and patience required to make another Clara would likely drive him to kill both of them. Unless he could skip that step... Find himself a slave with the same sexual abilities as Clara but did not speak all the time and wasn't too scared of him to lay still during his ravaging... Did Clara have a sister?
By the time he had this thought, Clara sat back down on the cot next to him and started putting her underwear back on. What was curious was the way she was looking at him while she re-dressed. Montano didn't realize this, but she was waiting for his answer to a question he didn't even hear. Still, Montano knew the cue from such a look, and though he didn't answer her question, he was still stuck on one particular thought and found himself asking;
"Do you have a sister?"
She squinted, perplexed by his non-answer to her question, but she still answered anyway, "I think so?..."
Montano was still thinking. As much as he'd hate two Claras, he had to admit to himself that he would buy up her sister in a heartbeat if she had the same sexual skills, and could take care of Clara #1s "Talking malfunction" as he considered it. For all he knew, he wouldn't even have to buy her sister, especially if she was one to blindly offer herself to servitude like Clara. In any event, Montano was snapped back to the moment when her answer to his question sank in. Montano looked at her;
"... How do you not know if you have a sister?"
Her hand drifted over to and rested on his arm, and he let her for some reason when she replied;
"A little over a year ago, my sister Was on her way up to Gold Canyon to live with me after our mom died. But, the trek up from Mexico isn't too safe and I didn't get anymore letters from her after the one saying she was on her way. I waited for her for months, but sorta gave up after all that business around Phoen- er, what's left of the old Civilized Valley. I didn't really mind when the Legion showed up in Gold Canyon, after all, if it wasn't for what happened in Phoenix, I probably wouldn't have met you. Also, I know the Legion has been ridding all the trash in the southern wastes so I'm hoping we come across my sister one of these days after the Hidebarks are through. Once you all start cleaning out the raiders, things will be a lot better in the south. It's like I know my sister is still alive, like, I can feel it. But I'm almost certain she probably got abducted by a clan of raiders or something. That stretch from El Puerto to even Two Sun is still so dangerous. Raquel is so smart though, like, I'm sure she's fine wherever she is, but..."
Montano was still thinking about how Clara and her sister were exchanging letters and wondered how long she'd been able to read and write. This was news to him and he considered how he'd perhaps been underutilizing Clara as a slave. Though the ability to read was something incredibly dangerous for a normal slave to have, he'd known slaves who'd been quite beneficial to Legion officers as scribes, people to write down beneficial information for the Century. Montano considered this as Clara went on and his thoughts returned back to the beginning when she again looked at him expectingly. He answered another question he didn't hear, recently reminded by the fact he didn't enjoy hearing her talk, let alone being asked questions;
"You should write down your thoughts, servant."
She looked at him silently for a moment. After almost too long of silence, her blank face grew a warm smile. She gripped his arm a little harder and leaned on his shoulder;
Clara whispered into his ear and kissed his cheek, "That's a great idea. Then I'll know just what to say when I see her again. You do listen to me."
Aleron watched the 30th arrow strike the sign and continue to wobble long after the bodies fell from those cliffs. The moon was high and the world was still as the only sound to be heard was a distant training drum beating on the other end of the line. Aleron had seen the final arrow each night get shot since the sign came up because he posted himself right beside it each night in order to watch over the camp alongside the prime sentries of the night watch. This wasn't out of duty since his position kept him by the Interfector's side most days. At night, however, the Interfector preferred to be alone, so Aleron was dismissed to go about whatever he wanted, and this usually led him to the sign each night to watch the village below, and wait until that last round of captives fell from the cliffs, just waiting for that arrow.
When that final arrow came to a halt, Dalton gave Aleron a pat on the back and said, "There it is, the 30th arrow, I'm gonna tell Primus, see you in the morning." Aleron nodded and turned back to the village as one of the prime sentries climbed up on a small ladder to remove the arrow.
The young Decanus watched the village under the stars, but there wasn't much to see in the dark night. Fires gave their glow all along the ridge, marking the Legion line, but the village below was still dark, with the only real light down there coming from one medium-sized fire in the middle that didn't show much other than the silhouette of that Hidebark giant. Aleron thought he could make out some hidebarks moving someone to an enclosure and exit without the body. He couldn't tell whether or not that tent was where the hidebarks were storing their dead or injured. He'd seen bodies get hauled in there throughout each day and knew the hidebarks were rapidly failing due to starvation and thirst. As more were dragged into that enclosure, the whole scene was just a background for what every set of legion eyes was really looking at; that monster who still hadn't moved from the center of camp, and was still ready to give his answer whenever the hidebark captives fell.
As he watched the monster, he wondered what the plan was. Of course, he knew they were only a couple of hours from the 13th day when that final offer of surrender would need an answer. What was curious to Aleron was the fact that there hadn't been any plan he'd been made aware of. Though Aleron still hadn't been within 20 yards of Caesar, the Elite kept Aleron and his staff well informed. Everyone still knew that they'd head down there sometime the next morning, but no plan or battle rehearsals had been issued to the entire surrounding force. His attention turned once more to that distant training drum, but he knew that was likely out of idleness. With the world still and calm as can be, Aleron focused back on the giant by that lone fire.
Aleron saw what happened to both of Caesar's envoys, and watched that giant begin pacing back and forth occasionally slapping the ground with his axe. For several minutes, the giant moved back and forth in the glow of the fire, surrounded by the dark world, and actively battling the edge of darkness with his axe when he felt he should. Each pace back and forth was punctuated by a series of savage swings at the ground. The beast lodged the blade deep into the earth, cranking the heavy axe out of it, and bringing it back down again and again before beginning to walk back and forth again and again on a loop as the minutes drifted by. No matter what he did in psychosis or how many times he slammed that axe into the ground, the fire continued to flicker while doing very little to keep the darkness beyond it at bay. The flame would burn forever, but always be surrounded by the night, and the arrows of defiance wouldn't do much to stop what the world intended. Aleron finally watched the giant remove the long bow from his back, snap it over his knee, and leave the spot he rarely left in days. The last arrow of the night, the last arrow of the war, tomorrow was the day it would end, whether or not the Hidebark symbol of defiance wanted it.
When Aleron returned to his tent, Gabriella stood in an instant, ready for her master's orders. Aleron stayed silent, but the slave continued to watch him go about undressing his armor and making sure the fire was large enough for the night. Gabriella continued to watch her master's feet, knowing not to look at his face unless asked and still be ready for any demands. Aleron usually had Gabriella do something upon returning to his domicile for any menial chore, but he had been unusually silent most nights after returning from his observances over the line.
Finally, Aleron laid himself down on his cot, and shut his eyes as Gabriella still stood awaiting a directive, but Aleron was occupied with his mind. He wasn't thinking about any one thing in particular, just going over the myriad of things he'd done and seen throughout the day. This occupied him for a long while until he could feel the servant still standing and looking in his direction, waiting for an order to do some chore or even to go to sleep. Aleron turned his head and opened his eyes to see the woman standing there beside her cot, and still looking in his general direction. He could feel her waiting, and finally indulged her as he continued thinking about his afternoon;
"You may speak."
The woman looked up from the chest beneath his cot to meet his face as she asked timidly, "Would master have me do anything for him?"
Aleron thought for a long moment and the woman resumed looking at the chest beneath him. With Aleron's mind now chronologically running through the late afternoon activities, he said something to her that she wasn't expecting at all, nor him for that matter. The question came idly and unexpectedly from Aleron's mouth, "How did you get your name?"
The servant taken aback by the question, took a second to respond, not knowing how exactly to answer. Finally, she answered softly, "Master Aleron gave me my name..."
Aleron again thought for a long moment, admiring her obedience-based answer, but he knew that wasn't the truth. As he turned back to look up at the ceiling and eventually his eyelids, he said, "No. I allowed you to keep it. But where does your name come from?... You had it in your former tribe. I want to know why you were given your name."
The Decanus was now thinking about the night, and his time by the Elite's side right before being dismissed for the evening. Gabriella again wasn't sure what to say, having never been asked anything related to her being since being swallowed by Legion servitude. So, she finally answered cautiously, "... My-... the name comes from a story of my former people..."
She waited.
Aleron finally closed his eyes as he felt his servant still standing beside her cot. He very briefly recalled his own name and how he got it, something that he'd long forgotten. All he remembered was that his name was loosely derived from a word only vaguely pertaining to a place he'd been born. Did he get his name from Legion or elsewhere? All he knew and all he even cared to know was that his name meant nothing relevant. He could only truly remember that his name had something to do with the tiny decrepit airstrip he was born on or near. A part of a sky vehicle or something equally irrelevant, but at least serving as an adequate means of being addressed. Although, for the life of him, he could not remember if he was allowed to keep his name, or if the name was given to him at a Legion boys camp near an old air vehicle. Either way, none of that mattered to him, and one way or another, he was "born" with his name that had no true meaning. Born in a non-existent tribe or born in the Legion's fire, neither was relevant when the present was all there is. Still, something inside him wanted to know where names came from as he told her flatly, "Sit down and tell me the story" and resumed his recollection of the day, creeping closer towards his observance of the nameless giant.
At that, the slave sat back down hesitantly, and started with only a slight shake in her voice, "... It's been so long, b- but I will do as master..."
The Decanus was finally thinking about the evening and walking towards the sign where he awaited the last round of captives to fall from those cliffs, but more importantly, waiting for that last arrow to hit the sign. Aleron caught fragments of the slave's story but was more focused on running through each individual action he'd done that evening. Every breath he took, every gust of wind he felt, everything he saw, the glow of fires across the siege line, and the sight of shadows shuffling about in the suffering village below. He caught only part of Gabriella's opening;
"... My sister was named after her, and I was named after the sister... He loved that woman so much and only had eyes for her even as the world moved further and further towards war..."
Aleron only subconsciously took in the story as he thought about Dalton the Prime eventually stepping up and taking in the sight. Dalton had mentioned something about the Interfector's explorer bringing some intel back from Long Shadows, and how he had to take part in one of the clifftop executions earlier that day. Aleron couldn't recall exactly what the words Dalton said were but remembered being interrupted a few seconds later when their attention turned to the protruding rocks where those executions were always done. The necks of the surrendered warriors were opened, and the bodies shoved off the ledge into the darkness;
"... The war came and the world was consumed by it. Everything and everyone's lives were forever changed, especially theirs..."
The young decanus watched those last bodies fall from the cliffs, and turned to the sign of surrender just in time to see the arrow land right in the middle of the "o" in the word, "Mortilla'ka" roughly meaning, "To be spared."
"... He had answered the call of war and his tribe sent its warriors to the north."
Aleron thought about the glows of the fire across the line as that arrow continued to wobble to a halt and recalled the faint smell of the dead, an odor that had drifted up from the village more and more throughout the days of starving them out.
"... He was so in love with her, but he couldn't be with her because the war was all he wanted. He got what he wanted, but left her, his heart at home. He couldn't leave, war became all he knew, and it became all he would ever be. This slowly killed him because he still missed his heart, but the war had already claimed him. Years in the ruined village had taken his soul, and the sun never shined again as the poisons of the dead world all-around became forever part of him..."
He remembered Dalton tap him on the shoulder and head off to tell Lord Interfector about the last arrow, and recalled turning to see the hidebark shadows hauling one of their dead or injured to the enclosure.
"... When he was allowed to go home, he reunited with his heart again. She loved him despite being gone for so long, and even though he wore the visible and invisible scars of battle. War was still all he could see, but not even that could stop her love from breaking through. He was her and she was him..."
Aleron had finally reached the last part of his night. He saw that giant with the axe and bow pacing back and forth in the same general spot he'd been for days, slapping the axe into the earth, and yanking it out to do it again and again until it was time to pace to and fro again on a continuous loop.
"... The war never left him. War was still all there was in the world around them. Together, they were love, but the world of war outside had pulled them apart before. No matter how beautiful they were together, the scars all over his body and inside his soul from so much terror were always fated to return..."
The decanus remembered the giant swinging away at the earth, right on the edge of the fire's glow. Where the light met the darkness. No amount of swinging would keep the darkness away as that fire continued to burn its faint light behind him. Aleron recalled the giant finally snapping his bow and leaving that spot where he stood for days.
"... And then the war pulled them apart for the last time. The world was destroyed and had taken her beauty and spirit in the great fire... He thought he could be happy with her forever, but when he became the symbol of war, and it came back, it took her from the world for good, and now he walks the wastes-"
Aleron lifted his head at her sudden stop, but his attention was pulled to the mouth of the tent by the sound of someone hastily entering. It was Dalton the Prime who'd entered helmet in hand saying;
"Aleron, grab your stuff, there's something going on in the village."
The young decanus leaped out of his cot and threw on his armor in a flash, leaving the slave sitting right where she was before he entered. As Aleron stormed out of the tent with the Prime, he did so thinking about a man who was called to war, became it, and thought love and peace could change who he was, only for war to return and remove everything else from the earth.
As Aleron stepped up to the line of barricades overlooking the village, more legion forces congregated along their sections of the line. Aleron saw Montano leave his tent with Gula and meet with Theracos as they approached until his attention was turned to the Interfector emerging from his with Dalton in tow. The Elite started asking a different centurion some questions that got buried by the noise of the camp activity. Aleron saw as Montano and the other staff of the 6th stepped up to their barricade. He suddenly heard the approaching Interfector asking whether Caesar knew what was happening or if he should fetch him. Aleron as well as everyone else's attention was immediately turned to the village upon hearing a loud series of piercing wails coming from the people. There they saw distant shadows hastily moving about down below, with that fire in the middle now completely unattended and beginning to die.
For several long moments, the line was filled but less was seen below, and no new orders came. All eyes of everyone under the bull were fixed on that village as the fire died, leaving everyone to wonder what was happening or waiting for orders to move. The crying continued neither louder nor quieter until that lone fire in the camp flickered out of existence and Aleron thought of what he'd heard from his servant and everything he'd seen throughout the day and current night:
The last arrow of defiance had been fired, and nothing changed. War darkens everyone and everything, and when the fire dies, the defiance is gone and darkness wins, but the suffering continues… When that darkness takes away all innocence, it leaves the charred man behind in a torn world to join it, or start the fire again. Every set of Legion eyes watching the darkness shrouded village and hearing those wails knew the only logical choice in the world was to join the night.