Deterioration
2269
The Murderer of Phoenix sat there in the dark taking note of the three veteran legionaries occupying the corners, standing motionless and barely visible in that dim light hanging low in the center of the room. He turned to his right to look at his reflection in the mirror on that wall, unable to see much other than the fact that the fan of feathers across the top of his helmet was slightly crooked. He began straightening it in the reflection until finally taking the helmet off, asking himself, "What's the point? I'm inside." An idle thought he said out loud that was met in response by another teary sniffle from the sunken man across the table from him. The Murderer turned back to face the slave prisoner sitting chained to the chair, who let out another pained mumble.
"What was that?..." Asked the Murderer, barely hearing the mumble.
The slave man mumbled again slightly louder, still unable or refusing to make eye contact with the Killer, "Where's my boy?" The words almost inaudible.
The Killer asked, "This again? Is that all you can say?..." He waited.
The slave mumbled the same question again as a strand of thick blood hung even further from his mouth. The Murderer replied, "I heard you the first time you asked, the second too, and the third, and fourth, and even the 53rd time as well."
"Where's my boy?" came the words again, and that strand of blood finally settled on the beaten man's lap.
"I literally JUST showed you your boy is alive, What!? Two Days AGO!"
"Where's my boy?" asked the slave again, this time with tears falling from his sunken head.
"If you tell me everything you know, I'll let you see him again! It's not that Fucking hard!" shouted the Murderer.
This made the man look up with a face pouring tears that only rehydrated all the dried blood around his mouth and eyes. "I telled you everything I know about those guys!-" shouted the slave prisoner through a tsunami of more tears.
Immediately, the Interfector interrupted before anything else, "No, no no. No you didn't. You gave me the name of the water tower they meet at; my men came back from there yesterday with no information and no leads, no evidence!"
"I telled you! That's where they meet! That's all I know! I want to see my boy again-" cried the man completely desperate.
"And I 'telled' you!: I want names! I want more! I want you to be honest with me!" Screamed the Murderer, still reclining in his chair and keeping his physical composure.
The slave continued to stare at the Elite with tears streaming down his face and begging for some kind of humanity as the slave responded, "I telled you they-"
"WE!" Thundered the Elite.
"I telled you, we used fake names during the meets. I can't give you anything else! I would but I can't! I don't know! Just please-"
"Give me my boy back?..." answered the Murderer, beating the slave to it and with patience now gone. "… I swear I-"
The slave interrupted still sobbing, "We work the forge. We make the weapons. We do what we're told to! You soldiers never even see us. Why can't you just leave us alone!? You didn't have to take my-"
"Ding Ding Ding!..." shouted the Elite, his face now bright and smiling, "… You sir are absolutely right! You all do your job, work the forge, all that blah blah blah, and we leave you alone!... That's a system I do so love with all my heart!..."
The slave stared at the Elite, the tears coming more and more the "happier" the Murderer grew, "… Which is why I don't much care for it when worthless sacks of HUMAN SHIT like YOURSELF STEP ON MY GOD DAMNED FUCKING FAIRNESS!..."
The man sunk his head back down, his wailing only increasing. The Murderer went on, "… You do your job!? Be Nice!? I'm Nice! I just really REALLY Fucking hate it when people like you and your friends abuse my hospitality and plot against me! THEN! You talk to me like I'm a FUCKING idiot and insist on your 'Innocence' when I have FOUR of your conspirators verifying your involvement!"
"Where's my boy?" sobbed the man again.
The Murderer stood and punched the man so hard across his face that it would have thrown him to the floor if the chair he was in wasn't bolted down. Just before the Murderer could do more to the man, the door opened, and in came Aleron holding a plastic plate full of slop. The Elite looked up;
"Ah! Centurion Aleron! There you are. Thanks for bringing this fuck's-"
Centurion Aleron responded in a pressing tone, "My Primus, I wish to speak to you about something urgent in the hall, if it isn't too much trouble for the moment."
The Murderer released his grip on the slave's tunic and glanced at the tray in Aleron's hands. He looked down at the man now weeping uncontrollably and beginning to choke on the tears in hyperventilation, "Sure! I got a free minute. Plus, it's this big baby's lunch time anyway and I had his meal specially prepared."
The Killer took the tray from Aleron's hands and slammed it down on the table in front of the man. After giving one of the legionaries in the corner orders to unbind the slave's hands, he said to make sure the slave eats and joined Aleron in the dark corridor outside the interrogation room.
"What can I do for you, Aleron?" asked the Elite with a smile.
"Your runners came back with those intel reports from New Mexico and Flagstaff…" said Aleron directly before the Elite said;
"Perfect. Have them brought up to my office, I'll start going through them in a bit. Also, did you happen to look into those sites around the slave district?"
"I already saw to the documents' delivery to your desk, the reports are in your quarters now. Also, I did look into those sites," replied Aleron before asking, "I take it you want the Colorado sector news first?"
The Elite shrugged, "Might as well, since that's where that piece of shit in there is from. What you got?"
Aleron replied straight to the point, "Whatever he's told you so far, he's been lying. I have three more accounts from his neighbors that work the tannery in that quarter saying they have seen him leave in the middle of the night multiple times and four other accounts confirming the water tower in that district as a primary meeting place. The contubernium you sent out there under Decanus Pilus even discovered where the slaves stored those missing weapons crates. I'll just say the mill is now under lockdown and the slave supervisor is ready to talk… Names included."
The smile on the Elite's face grew even wider, "Aleron, you are a true detective. Think we should see if that scum fuck in there recognizes any of those names?"
"Don't think so," responded Aleron before adding, "… I had a chance to talk to the slave supervisor on the way back here, the man you have in there is just a smuggler, using his family as cover for the others' operations. It's doubtful he knows their names, but his sobbing doesn't change the fact he played a big role in that ring of insurrectionists. It always surprises me how loyal some slaves can actually be."
The Murderer's grin increased, "I completely agree. Have this given to the slave supervisor for his cooperation..." said the Elite as he placed a small sack of coins in Aleron's hands. He resumed with an extra tinge of pride in his voice;
"With all your work and thorough investigating, it seems I probably should have offered you to the Frumantarii instead of Dalton… I'm curious how he is by the way? Any news?"
Aleron gave his Primus a nod, "The raise to Centurion was more than sufficient, Lord Interfector. But no, I haven't heard any news from Dalton… Although, one of those Flagstaff reports comes directly from the Palatii and office of Lord Caesar himself. The folder is signed by your usual source, 'Markus Dinero' rank unknown of the Palatii. Apparently, that guy was moved from the treasury and is now running the Palatii's status reports on Caesar's personal units there. Seems there's a whole tab in the folder dedicated to new officers from the Schola Decanus, as well as potential Praetorians. Caesar won't list members of the Frumantarii on there, but Dalton could easily be listed as a new 'Potential Praetorian.'"
The Murderer paused for a long moment until changing his grin to a sly smirk, "Can't believe Dinero is still running the Palatii's admin bullshit, haha! Still, a new station so quick? One of these days he's gonna piss off the wrong guy and end up watching over a mine or even back on the front Haha! But thank you, I'll bet Kekos co-signed the reports as a witness too! Either way, if they're running the Palatii personnel desk, well, now I'm sure I'll get a bit on Dalton hahaha!..."
Aleron smiled at seeing his Primus in such a mood. When the Elite refocused, he said, "Anyway, I'll have to look over all that later, still got a few more interviews regarding our usual bullshit, but now…" his eyes drifted back to the little window to the interrogation chamber where he saw the restrained slave still staring at the floor. "… Care to aid in the next round of interviews, Aleron? Could be good to have someone as knowledgeable as you in there for the next one, in case they insist on lying to me even more."
"Of course, Lord Interfector." Replied Aleron. The Interfector nodded and motioned for Aleron to join him back in the room.
Upon re-entering the interrogation room, the Murderer gestured for Aleron to take his spot behind the restrained man. Aleron did so as the Interfector sat back down in his chair across the slave. The Murderer studied the tray of slop and noticed there had been a few sizable bites taken out of it, prompting him to begin;
"Took a few bites I see. Good job. I figured you'd have been hungrier though. Did you like it?"
"Where's my boy?" mumbled the slave again with fewer tears than before.
The Interfector rolled his eyes and slammed his fist on the metal table, "I ASKED IF YOU LIKED IT!?"
"I didn't like it. I'm not hungry…" said the man through tears before pathetically adding his famous, "… Where's my boy?"
The Interfector leaned back, saw his reflection in the cracked mirror on the right-hand wall again, and noticed his plume of feathers was crooked again. He took off the helmet, looking back at the restrained slave man again. He studied the man silently for a long time once more, straightening the feathers until he was satisfied, and then placed the helmet on the ground. Still, the Murderer watched the slave with a scowl, silently listening to his soft crying, and hearing those words "Where's my boy?" be mumbled to nobody every now and then. Finally, the Killer looked at the man's lowered head and spoke to him directly;
"You know you're a fucking loser, right?..."
Still with his head hung low, the man sobbed, "Yeah." Blindly hoping upon hope that agreement with his tormenter would allow his son's release.
The Murderer's scowl grew, "You know that literally nothing you did in defiance to me or the Legion mattered, right?..."
"Where's my boy?"
"You couldn't save your friends, you couldn't do anything to stop the Legion or even hinder us, you're fucking pathetic…"
"Where's my boy?"
"You just sat idly by, and couldn't stop anything. You let us walk all over you. We enslaved you due to your withered leg, spared you from making your kid an orphan through servitude. Slavery spared you from the camps and saved the ones you cared about… It did, and it did it so well. Until you decided to turn on the very people who gave you the PRIVILEGE of life!… But that isn't even the worst thing..."
The Interfector's tone demanded an answer as he spat, "Do you know how much of a fucking loser you Really are?..."
"Where's my boy?"
"You're the kind of fucking loser who fucking Ate his own fucking child… Like, that's fucked up, even to me…"
The slave slowly lifted his face towards the Elite, tears pouring down them like never before.
The Murderer gestured towards the tray of gruel with chunks of meat still sitting there half-eaten in the mess, "… I'm surprised you didn't like it. After all, it was made with love, or at least From something you love."
The slave pleaded through his hysteria, "Plee- Please Kill Me" as his world fell apart and his soul was obliterated by the Murderer's words.
"Granted" said the Murderer with a sneer.
Aleron shot the slave in the back of the head, blood spraying onto the Elite's face. Immediately, two of the veterans in the corners began removing the body as the Interfector told the other legionary, "Bring in the next man. Interview number?… 14? I believe? I think he's the one with the sister, so bring her in here too… I'll give that fucker a show."
Aleron moved around the table with his handkerchief in hand, "Sorry about the blood, Primus, let me get that for you-"
"No, no. I'll leave the blood on. Definitely ramps up the 'scare factor' for the next one. Let's not make it a habit though. You should know to hold a gun at an angle before doing something like that at the end of an interview, Aleron."
"My mistake, Lord Interfector. Won't happen again," said Aleron astutely as he pocketed the cloth.
"No, that was my bad, I should have told you, or stepped out of the way. Although, if you wanna get that tray out of here, I'd appreciate it," said the Murderer with a warm smile.
"Of course, Primus. I had no idea you served the kid, I swear I saw him in his cell just this morning."
The Murderer dabbed some of the blood from the corner of his eye, "Yeah, that was a lie. I didn't serve him his kid. Although, as it happens, I did stumble across Centurion Galio not long after lunch. You were already headed to verify the accuracy of that intel in the slave district when Galio said he was in the market for a young boy. I gave him a good deal on Mr. "Where's my boy" here's son for old time's sake. He's off on some incursion into Colorado and perhaps was looking for a new son… or something innocent to defile… Either way, I got a good 4 aureus from it. Suppose I got some savings for that neon sign I been thinking about putting outside the fortress as well."
Several Hours Later
After several hours of the usual business, the Elite dismissed his guards who weren't out on assignments and retired back to his abode for the evening. He met up with Aleron as usual after the dismissal and together the two walked up the steps and across the catwalks to his domicile overlooking the grounds of the "Interior Fortress" of Circle Junction. The Interior Fortress palace itself was an old train warehouse with an enormous vaulted ceiling and stairs and catwalks leading up to a series of floating pods where his personal guards called home.
The Interfector had made a habit of keeping Aleron close in the past few months, not out of suspicion or anything, but more out of camaraderie. The Interfector was close with the legionary named Dalton for unsure reasons and had been missing him since having him sent to Flagstaff for official training as a member of the Frumantarii. Dalton's absence left the Murderer feeling somewhat lonesome and because of that, he had been becoming more acquainted with the most reliable and dependable member of his staff, Aleron. In fact, the two had become so close over the months and even years in his guard that he was even able to outsource most of his more stress-inducing tasks to Aleron who saw each one through in a more than praise-worthy manner. The Murderer had come to respect and admire the services of Aleron to such a degree that he even bestowed the highest rank he could upon the man. Aleron was granted the title of a Junior Centurion, the highest rank a member of an Elite's personal guard can achieve.
With this all said, that night, the duo headed upstairs and to the Elite's personal quarters directly overlooking the Interior Fortress's plaza, a lavishly decorated domicile that still maintained the rustic and industrial aesthetic the old train maintenance facility naturally held. With this evening being so standard for both the Elite and Aleron, by the time they entered the domicile, Gabriella was already waiting inside, lighting the lanterns and candles, dusting where necessary, and ensuring the residence of Circle Junction's Praetor was up to standard.
The duo entered, and Gabriella was greeted by the Interfector with a warm "hello," followed by Aleron who greeted the slave cordially before ensuring she had completed her tasks for the day. To which she replied, "Yes Master Aleron."
When the two had taken their seats at the table in the center of the room, Gabriella poured their water into cups and asked the two if there was anything else needed for the evening. "I think I'm all good" responded the Elite, and Aleron told her that he was pleased for the moment and ordered her to stand by for possible further directive. The slave bowed politely and walked her way over to her usual spot in the Elite's abode, taking a seat on a finely reupholstered red couch near the Elite's large bed. She sat on that couch, pulled a few fabrics and needles from her thin grey evening gown, and began knitting while occasionally glancing out the enormous window at the rapidly lowering sun.
After Aleron and the Elite were sufficiently rested, Aleron stood himself up and approached the desk in the corner of the room, and lifted the heavy stack of documents he placed there earlier. Aleron placed the stack on the center table, and the Elite stated idly, "Let's get to it."
Together, the two had done what they'd done countless other nights and just sat at that table in the lavish quarters, going over reports and documents from all across Arizona and the New Mexico front, calculating inventories, tributes from allies, and making notes on how to address problems that had risen across the Circle Junction Praetor's jurisdiction. This was a task that neither man considered to be "Work." Both were actually quite fond of those kinds of nights, especially since the kinds of document batches only came in on that scale around once a week, sometimes only once a month. The Elite loved using that time to go over everything he was in charge of and found particular delight in assessing how to deal with each report, how to respond, where to send it, and he certainly used that time to entertain himself by chatting with Aleron or asking for his input on the dealing of particular matters.
Aleron might not have been able to recognize himself if he knew where he'd be and the kind of things he would be responsible for. This most certainly was due to the Elite's influence. Something about the Interfector's personality was rubbing off on him after so much time at his side over the years, and this only increased when Dalton left for Frumantarii training. Aleron still often found himself puzzled by the demeanor of the Elite, but by this time, found himself seeing his Primus more and more like a "Friend" if only he knew the word. With all this said, the two were still more than monsters. The world outside their little slice of paradise in the Interior Fortress was still one that demanded only the most merciless and horrible of men. Something that you would never see if you asked the slave woman still sitting there knitting away while her master and his master worked.
Gabriella enjoyed the report nights as well and was always at the ready for the next call. She secretly really liked the Interfector of Phoenix, and Dalton, both of whom were men that treated her politely and warmly. Nothing sexual was happening between her and either of them, but the consistent attention, cordial acknowledgment, and simple warm remarks from the Elite and his friend always seemed to make her cheeks color. The reason Gabriella truly grew to love the Interfector wasn't because of any romantic attraction, but because she was intelligent enough to know that The Murderer's kind influence over her master, Aleron clearly impacted him. Aleron was no stranger to harming her in the immediate days after acquiring her, and verbal abuse or torment was regular for many months, but even in the early days, Aleron deemed himself a "Fair" master. He maintained strict Legion-style rules for literal years after she became his servant, but the more Aleron was around the Elite, the more she noticed a change in his demeanor. Where she once feared every second Aleron was near, over time, she eventually found him treating her more and more like a "person" rather than something to bark orders at or terrorize into obedience. This didn't mean that she was "off the leash" by any means. All this truly meant was that she found herself becoming more and more comfortable with her lot in life. Only able to see the fringes of the slave city from the Interfector's great window, she still watched that smoke pouring into the sky across the city and saw those crimson soldiers patrolling the Interior's plaza, and knew that she "had it good." So, there Gabriella sat, knitting away, making some sort of decoration or fixing a tunic for her master on a comfortable seat, smiling to herself and taking pride in her work as the two men in her life occupied themselves with their own business, and ready to answer any call that could come. Still, no matter how good they were to her, that world outside still marked them as monsters by every action they did.
After the sun disappeared, Aleron and the Elite were still sitting at that table with reports and folders scattered all across it, the Elite was talking loudly to Aleron about this and that, remarking in his casual manner on almost everything he did to or thought about a report. Aleron responded when necessary, mostly in agreement with his Primus, and offering his advice to any questions that came his way. Eventually, the Elite found the folder he'd been looking for since the start, lifted it up, and thumped it with his finger as he stated, "Aleron! Here it is!... Oh, and look at this."
The Murderer tossed Aleron the folder, and he studied the report bearing the sigil of the Flagstaff Capital. The words of the Interfector came with a smirk, "What did I tell you?"
Aleron looked at the folder, and signed at the bottom was the name "Markus Dinero," below that occupying the witness line was the name, "Tom Kekos." Aleron grinned and replied, "Correct as always, Primus-"
The Elite interrupted, "Haha! I still can't believe they got moved to Palatii Personnel!" Aleron motioned to hand the folder back, but the Elite added, "See if you can't find Dalton in there, would you? I'm busy with my... This... Thing..." as he got back to reading one of the other reports.
Aleron concurred, and flipped through the thick folder before asking his Primus idly, "If I may ask, how do you know those two?"
The Elite was still busy making notes on the report from New Mexico he was studying as he replied, "We just did some work for Caesar back in the day, Kekos is a bit of the silent type, but I'd honestly be surprised if even you can shut up Dinero. That fucker, love him to death, but he's got one hell of a loudmouth."
Aleron was taking his own notes on the demands inside the "Schola Decanus" section, vaguely recalling his own time at the Flagstaff leadership school or camp. That place all Prime Decani go to after surviving as a recruit decanus for long enough. Aleron found himself asking, "You knew those two since before entering Caesar's servitude? I'm surprised they haven't earned themselves new names if they've been in Caesar's service as long as you..."
The Murderer glanced up from his folder at that and let out a chuckle, "Those two? Ha! You noticed they don't have ranks listed next to them. I'll just say they haven't done anything 'Legion' enough to warrant a new name or rank."
Aleron was highlighting Decanus biographies for placement in Arizona reserve pools as he asked, "I'm sure their prestige allowed them to skip the camps, like yours, My Primus?"
Again, the Murderer chuckled, "Something like that. I heard those two did have to go to legionary camp for a little while, er? a part of it? But Caesar saw them more fit to run logistics and treasury admin from Flagstaff since they were never much ones for the old blade fencing... Dinero would probably piss himself in the fray, Haha! Although I feel Kekos could probably hold his own in a fight..."
Aleron had just reached the section for potential Praetorians from the Flagstaff Officer Personnel list when the Elite said aloud, "- Speaking of machete play, guess what I just came across..."
The junior centurion looked up from the first entries, "I haven't the slightest idea, Lord Interfector?"
The Elite slid the report he was looking at across the table to Aleron who briefly noticed the sigil of the New Mexico Front on the heading before looking back at the bookmarked page. The letter was a detailed and thoroughly written page detailing the actions of a notable individual on the New Mexico Front with a list of deeds and actions attached that concluded with an order for a mask to be made to certain specifications in recognition of a soldier to be promoted to Centurion on the front. A sketch of what the mask should look like was pinned to the back, but on the text page, at the bottom of the entire document, the recipient of the mask and person to be recognized for promotion was listed as "Veteran Decanus Montano, Signifer, 6th Century." Below that, the order came from "Joshua Graham, Legatus Imperialis, Legion."
Aleron looked up from the page and as soon as he did, the Elite said, "Your old pal, Montano made centurion... Any thoughts? haha."
The junior centurion looked over the page, not feeling any emotion in particular, and certainly not how the Elite was thinking he felt. Aleron read the lines detailing his rival's actions again and replied, "If the Legate himself orders it, I would say Decanus Montano has more than earned the promotion and gift."
The Elite cracked a grin again, "Water under the bridge, huh?..." Aleron's face and demeanor remained unchanged, and the Elite noticed this, causing him to remark, "... Your professionalism never ceases to astound me, Aleron. I swear, perhaps I should enroll myself in a legionary camp because I could do without the whole 'feelings' thing sometimes."
The Murderer's eyes drifted towards the window, looking out at the darkness and the smoke-hazed lights of the city out there. His eyes landed on a bright little speck at the edge of the darkness, the location of one of the Circle Junction region's several surrounding soldier and indoctrination camps.
"You would get through the camp no problem, My Primus," said Aleron with a nod and grin.
The Elite whipped his head back towards Aleron, "No offense to you and others who came from there, but fuck that. I've been inside a few of the surrounding camps since taking this post, so I'll politely stay put."
"You, My Primus, are more Legion than anyone in the Arizona territory, or any who'd fallen on any of Caesar's fronts," said Aleron sincerely, but with a hint of jest, vaguely recalling his own memories of his time in that camp... And how even those memories seemed to have never happened at all despite being so real in his unconscious mind.
"Don't feel like it sometimes, haha... But that's enough ass-kissing from you," said the Elite with a grin before saying, "Gimme that file back, I wanna see the details of Mr. Montano's new mask."
Aleron smiled and handed the New Mexico folder back to his commander. The Elite made notes on the page and Aleron got back to sifting through the Dinero file for Dalton's name. As the two continued their work, the Elite finished his marks on the report from Legate Graham and said idly, "I think we could do that. Oh hey! didn't that 'giant' get his mask made in the forges here in Circle Junction?"
Aleron asked, "What giant?"
"You know the one? That fuckin Hidebark beast. Last I heard of that guy, he had a mask made for him here only a few months before I took charge of this place."
"I thought that mask order was for some 12 year old that was granted Prime Legionary after getting sent to the soldier stage of the camp as a punishment?" asked Aleron.
"I remember that, I heard the kid was fuckin huge... Pretty sure that kid had a mask made for him... as well... or?..." stated the Elite as he considered past orders and the first days upon taking his current post.
Aleron thought and then questioned, "That kid, is that the 'Hidebark Giant' you're talking about, Primus?"
The Elite thought for a second doing some internal math before exclaiming, "... That order back in?... 64?... That would make him?... That would mean that Hidebark giant would've been 11 or 12 when we found him... Plus the 3 months of camp-... 12?... No Way was that Hidebark Beast a toddler when we took out that tribe!"
Aleron snapped his fingers, "Yeah, I believe those were two different orders around the same time. Right around the time, you became Praetor of Circle Junction... One mask order for the 12-year-old, one for the Beast... I think?"
The Elite shook himself from getting lost in his train of thought and said, "Either way, pretty sure that Giant Hidebark with the bow had his mask made here, the one with the bandage mask.. I wonder what happened to him?... I'm also curious about that big 12 year old now Haha! Sure the kid is all grown up now... or got killed on an NM battlefield."
It hit Aleron and he thought back to his interaction with the Hidebark beast the Elite was talking about. Aleron thought of that bandaged face bleeding even more as it stomped on the head of his fainted captive. "That's right. I remember now. But?... News about that guy?... I think I saw something about him in a batch last month. I think that was the directive report from Caesar himself. Lord Caesar said he was sending a force to Colorado for reconnaissance headed by a... -"
Aleron's recollection was interrupted when his commander shouted, "That's right! I forgot about that! And Shit! thanks for reminding me! We gotta get a head start on the preparations for Colorado. I meant to tell you after I brought up Galio earlier today, but we got sidetracked. Anyway, New Mexico has been winding down for weeks and Caesar wants to be extra ready for a big Colorado push..."
"Noted, My Primus."
The Murderer nodded, "Let's finish this up. We'll have that mask made for Caesar's 'Centurion Carnifex'- er, Mask for Montano, and I need you to set aside any of your other tasks. Tomorrow I need you to run and deliver a new directive for the mills and forges first thing in the morning. If anything, pass on the new directive to the tanneries. I wanna get a head start on the big prep for Colorado before anything else..." Said the Elite, hastily trying to get as much of his thoughts out in the open before forgetting about them with tomorrow's busy work.
"Of course, Lord Interfector-" said Aleron.
"... Oh, and could you drop off the mask order as well?" added the Elite.
Aleron nodded and the Elite added once more, "And don't you even think about editing that mask design... I don't want a report from Graham in a few months about how his gift to Montano ended up with several penises chiseled into its design!"
Aleron was momentarily bewildered at his superior's assumption that he would ever do such a thing... And Why he would ever do something like that even to a gift for his old rival. Then the "joke" sank in, and he grinned at his commander, "Wouldn't dream of it, Primus."
The Elite acknowledged the fact his guard understood the jest and whipped towards Gabriella who'd been sitting at the ready since the Elite started talking louder. He told her, "Gabriella? Be a doll and grab a runner downstairs, would you? An explorer to be precise."
"Immediately, My Lord Interfector" came from the servant's lips as she stood herself up and departed from the abode.
Aleron and the Elite finished up their work on the stack of reports and set aside the ones that could be put off. While Gabriella was out, the Elite hastily wrote out a letter, that was in direct response and acknowledgment of Joshua Graham's requisition for Montano's new mask, and began writing out his new directives for the beginning of the Colorado preparation. Around 10 minutes later, Gabriella returned with one legionary explorer in tow. Gabriella took her place back on the couch while Aleron finished stacking his orders to distribute in the morrow and the legionary stepped up the table where the Interfector was writing out his 4th new response letter. The explorer took another step forward;
"Ave, Lord Interfector, I am at your disposal."
Without looking up, the Elite was still writing as he asked, "Rank and unit? Don't want to lose track of you, since... I need you to... run an errand for me," trying to maintain focus on what he was writing.
The legionary explorer responded in a deep and dry tone, "Speculatore, Explorer Attachment, 18th Century, 25th Auxilia Draft"
Still writing with one hand, the Elite handed the legionary explorer the response to Graham's request without looking up until his peripherals caught something. He noticed the legionary scout and flashed his gaze towards him, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
The legionary explorer took the letter in one hand and studied the Elite for a second, "I think you.. and I.. met long ago, Primus. History, is something we share. You spoke with me by the mighty Colorado. Your words held, conviction..."
"No shit?..." asked the Elite, making note of the explorer's dreadlocks before turning back to the letters he was writing, "... Anyway, the envelope has all your instructions attached.. You should probably get a haircut too by the way, as cool as those dreads are, they aren't in regulation."
"The braids, they have meaning to my people. Symbols, of something greater, like the flag of the Bull. Your road led you to Dry Wells, my... home, but not my home. Home isn't just a place you were born in..." replied the explorer auxiliary in that deep tone.
"I guess it doesn't matter since you said you were in the auxilia draft. You can go now." answered the Elite idly, still writing.
"Men walk many roads, followed your road, heard your message, whether you meant it or not. Had to know the, why, of it. Now, I walk the east, for Kaisar. Across the old world, slayed many for the Bull, learned many lessons walking through battlefields, marked by graves, fields now homes. Homes of the dead. My roads lead me through ash and sand, storms and wind, Circle Junction, Fort Abandon-"
"You're Seriously still talking!? Get out of here! Run that letter to Legate Graham's camp in New Mexico! Go on, git!" barked the Elite, slamming his pen on the table.
"Of course, Lord Interfector," said the strange Twisted Hairs auxiliary explorer as he ran out of the room.
"Since when did Twisted Hairs runners get so... chatty? Anyway, where were we?" asked the Elite, still scribbling a response letter.
Aleron thumped the folder, "Found Dalton right here, Primus."
A/N: You owe me a fave and follow if you read those lines in the Explorer's voice. Also, I'll probably release the next chapter sometime a little after Thanksgiving. I have the next two chapters completed, but they're really long and cover a lot. Take care and have a happy holiday! :D