Worthy of the Highest Praise
2269
Decanus Montano marched at the head of the 6th Century, right beside Centurion Gula as he'd done so many times throughout the years. This march across the plains and sands of New Mexico was taking the century back to the Front's primary encampment north of an allied settlement called "Las Cruces." The century's mission had been successful, the unit had eradicated one of the smaller tribes that considered themselves more of a raider clan than anything. The tribal raiders had allied themselves with the front's primary enemy at the time, the "Guerreros del Instituto" a tribe occupying an old castle-like establishment in the southeastern New Mexico territory. The raiders the Century eradicated were linked to the Guerreros by history, taking their name from some figure important to both clans. In the end, the raiders or "Goss Renegades" allied themselves with the Guerreros and stood watch over the north, something now exposed after their fall to the 6th Century. On the march back to Graham's camp for the Central Campaign, their victorious and triumphant return was interrupted two days out by a group that had followed and watched the destruction of the Goss Renegades. As the century reached the top of a hill, the brush on both sides of the path began spitting lead and fire.
Instantly, Centurion Gula was clipped in the arm and one of the staff ran to him while the recruit ranks in the center of the column dropped their long tent poles and crates of supplies, storming past the outer lines of primes and veterans laying return fire and into the brush. Like clockwork, any Legion century was ready for ambushes on any march, and many masked men were eager for them. Needless to say, as the recruits darted towards the encircling tribal guns, the veterans and primes poured everything they had on the marauders until out of ammo, then the spears came. Before the waves of recruits reached the skirmishers, they threw their devastating volleys of spears at them only seconds before the butchers work began. Dust covered the area and screaming came from all directions as the recruits met with the enemies. The primes emptied their weapons and Montano stormed straight ahead with the staff and a contubernium of veterans.
Montano didn't know which Guerrero had hit his Centurion, but that didn't matter as he saw all of them as responsible. Montano didn't know that Gula's arm had only been grazed, but that didn't matter either when he and the soldiers with him met the line of guns in front and clashed with their spearmen. Montano stood in the brush, slashing and hacking away at everything that wasn't red until making it red with blood. Montano was always so lost in the moment that his reasons for fighting were always lost. His charge into the ambushers' line was initiated by the gunshots, and retribution for his Centurion, but as he carved away at each man, he didn't even notice that Centurion Gula had joined him. Once more, none of that mattered when there was an enemy of Caesar in front of him and he had the flag of the Bull mounted on his back.
The legionaries in his group looked to him as the region erupted into more chaos, the guns popped in every direction while he destroyed everyone and everything that wasn't Legion in front of him. Those legionaries saw that flag, and followed it, taking note of the vexillarius making that dust in the air turn red with each spray of blood. The Guerreros began retreating from each side they attacked from, the gunshots lessened, and Montano faced down one more defiant Guerrero. A large tribal marched towards Montano as his comrades fled, and the Signifer raised his sawed off shotgun. With one blast, the wooden buckler in the tribal's hands was shattered, wood and splinters pelting his face, blinding him and causing a blood curdling scream. That scream was quickly ended when the blade of Montano lodged itself deep into the cranium of the brave Guerrero. Another had fallen to Montano, and the ambush was over with yet another Legion victory.
As every legionary collected their breaths, Montano saw his Centurion covered in blood and nursing the arm that'd been grazed. All the masked faces including Gula's were watching Montano as he stood over the corpse of that last man, looking at the trail of bodies he'd made before the Guerreros fled. Centurion Gula called to reassemble the formation, and the dead from the first shots were stripped of their gear before being piled and burned. 40 minutes after the ambush started, the Century was marching onwards to Graham's camp, and with over 20 new vacant spots in the ranks. Still, the century marched on, feeling more victorious than ever, and with Montano carrying the Bull at the head.
Upon returning to Graham's camp, the headquarters of the New Mexico Front, they entered to hero's welcome. The north was now open and the Guerreros had to consolidate their forces in the region even more. When the century entered the gates of the regional fort, the thousand+ legionaries watched their blood covered return, marveling at the success and dominance of the 6th. Having left most of their lodging back at the fort, the century entered their section of the camp and began unpacking like they did after any sortie into hostile lands. What had been seen as a job for 2 or more centuries, was done by one, the 6th, a unit full of men like Montano who yearned for every battle and chance to serve Caesar. Montano felt revitalized after that week-long excursion and felt better than ever upon another triumphant return. Although, it wasn't until after he'd helped Gula unpack the staff's essentials that he was free for the evening and had to unfortunately return to his personal enclosure in the large fortification.
Clara and Raquel sat in the personal tent of Montano, hearing the return of the 6th but paying it no regard since the two were busy bickering with one another over something irrelevant. Clara was still the overly faithful and trusty servant of Montano even after nearly 7 years since entering his company. Her initial contract regarding "Volunteer Legion Servitude" expired after the first 3 years at his side, and had more money than any slave ever had.
It should be quickly noted that "Volunteer Servitude" was not something that was usual in the Legion. For a society that utilized slaves to a massive degree, the idea of someone offering themselves to the Legion was something only done on rare occasions. Most of the time, a volunteer slave in the ranks sold themselves to the nearest Legion unit for a select period of time and were subject to any treatment the master of their contract wanted. This volunteer system was primarily used by people in Legion territory who had debts to pay to the Legion or others and was sometimes a means of avoiding worse means of servitude. This said, slaves of the Legion were predominantly enslaved for life after the Legion conquered their people. These volunteers were again held to a contract and timeframe, but in a society where slave abuse and even the killing of slaves was rampant, it was easy for volunteers to have their contracts nulled after doing something execution worthy.
All this said, Clara had legitimately sold herself into slavery after meeting Montano, and offered the one thing she knew her master wanted, sex. Though she was subjected to abuse and even death if Montano wanted it, she knew Montano only really wanted to kill for Caesar, and any period of respite would be occupied by his base instinct of desiring sex she was more than willing to offer. After Montano purchased Clara's sister, she had gotten her original reason for offering herself to Montano out of the way.
This reason may come as a surprise to some readers, but as hinted earlier, she was a very smart woman despite how Montano felt about her. She was cunning enough to know that the Legion owned essentially all of northern Arizona when she met Montano, and knew he and his unit was in the region to tame the south. As she told the man earlier, she lost touch with her sister sometime before meeting Montano and knew she was lost on her way into Arizona from the sisters' family home in Mexico. Though Clara did like Montano and genuinely believed her lovingness could eventually break through to him, she figured she could at least enter his company and use the Legion's conquest over southern Arizona as a chance to find her sister. The chances of finding Raquel were one in a million, but even one in a million is still a chance. It was a gamble Clara was willing to take, and it more than paid off in her eyes after the 6th found Raquel around 5 years prior.
Though Clara still liked and loved Montano in a way, "Siding with the victors" was something that many in Arizona saw as a good idea after the fall of the Phoenix Metropolis in 2261, and Clara got that message. She considered her relationship with Montano to be something of a game. She didn't mind giving the man sex, since Montano was indeed a very attractive man if you could see through all the scars and blood on his skin. With his presence in Gold Canyon, and without her sister, she had no desire to spend the remainder of her days in the sleepy town of Gold Canyon waiting for her sister. Yes, Clara offered herself to Montano and joined the slave ranks of the 6th Century because she didn't have much else going on and thought they might be the best means of figuring out what happened to Raquel. It was still her idea to side with the victors of Arizona, and if she could side with them by clinging to the arm of a dangerous man who used her for sex she enjoyed, that was only a win win in her eyes.
As many have read about her, believing her to be a dumb young woman trying to get through to a man who wouldn't have it, she did indeed have an idea of how the mind works. Repetition is the key to learning and changing just about anything, and though she had learned early on how Montano dreaded the sound of her voice, she knew she was relatively safe at his side provided there was sex involved in his respite periods. As shown earlier, Clara talked and talked, and Montano ignored and ignored over the months and years, knowing that time and flowing water makes stones smooth. As she talked and Montano ignored, the subconscience of Montano was shaped to the point where he would begin to desire Raquel just as much as Clara. If not for family reasons, then at least for sexual ones. Without even realizing it, Clara had shaped Montano's subconscious mind, without touching his cemented Legion mind, so when the 6th happened across the camp where Raquel was detained, Montano could not say no to acquiring her. Two different reasons, same outcome, one new slave, one happy "Family."
Raquel did not like being taken by raiders only to be bought by the Legion and she was very vocal about it. Bearing a similar personality to Clara, Raquel could not find it in herself to offer herself over to the Legion. Luckily for Clara and Montano, she didn't have a say in the matter. Raquel was purchased by Montano and the two sisters were reunited on the march to wherever the 6th was headed. Over time, Raquel adapted to the march, but it took time for her to accept her new place in life, but luckily, Clara was there at her side. So, for the past 6 years, Montano had been on the march to different battles and fronts at the head of the 6ths columns, doing his best to forget about the two loud sisters at the column's rear, and doing his best to use them as he saw fit whenever the century set up camp.
There will be more to say about Raquel in the near future, but at this point, both sisters were fine with the arrangement and both gave Montano what he wanted when he was around (Rarely at the same time). Meanwhile, while Montano was charging head first into battles, the sisters were usually back at whatever fortification the 6th was attached to, doing their work, and largely living their own lives within the confines of whatever encampment they were in. The torment from other legionaries was minimal when they mentioned the name Montano, and everyone in crimson on all the fronts knew not to bother the servants of Montano when he was out, and especially when the tent flap was shut.
In the end, the sisters were left to their own devices, most of the time, and the two had it made. Still, as smart and willing to adapt as the sisters were in their lot in life, it should hopefully be obvious that subtle influence wasn't Clara's only specialty. Her biggest one was foresight. Without explaining too much directly, it should only be said that Clara, the eldest sister, knew that she was getting up there in years. She was about to turn 28 near the middle of 2269, and that meant time was fast approaching that Montano might no longer be sexually attracted to her... This was something that could prove disastrous since the renewal of her newest volunteer contract was to expire when she turned 30.
As Montano stepped through the tent opening, he heard the bickering even louder than before, and neither sister acknowledged him. Montano did not reprimand either for not greeting him, he'd long grown used to how the sisters were as servants. Still, Raquel was the only "Lifelong" slave of his that he acquired through Legion conquest, and the younger, so she was usually the first to be grabbed by his hands upon return from any campaign. The argument between the sisters was ended when Montano turned Raquel around and pushed her shoulders down till she was on her knees. As he began undressing himself and Raquel began tiredly doing likewise, Clara swatted Montano's hand from its spot atop Raquel's head.
Clara barked, "You said I was first, Montano! Plus! That bitch hadn't tended the brahmin OR fetched adequate water for the week! I told her you were coming back today and she-!"
Raquel had removed her top and rolled her eyes as she turned away from Montano, "Would you shut up Clara! You're just mad that he keeps choosing me first!..."
Montano began removing his belt, mind completely blank to all the noise when the piercing shriek of Clara entered his ears through a tremendous sob, "So that's it, Master Montano!? You don't want me anymore!? Is that it!?"
Clara began sobbing uncontrollably, as Raquel urged Montano to remove his lower garments, but Montano was stuck. His mind was frozen in place and all he could hear was Clara wailing while Raquel continued to tug on his belt from her knees. Without any thought, Montano drew his knife from his belt, tilted Raquel's chin upward, and pressed the blade to her neck. She didn't know the knife was there till she felt that cold steel pressed to her skin. Montano wordlessly took great pleasure in watching her face turn from seductive wanting to stone-cold terror, but his brain was short-circuiting as he heard Clara still crying.
Raquel tried to shout for her sister's aid, but Clara was still too upset to see what was happening to her sister, and the blade was pressed a little harder into her neck, almost enough to break the skin. Montano saw Raquel's eyes that were still very pretty despite being wide in fear and felt that little chin trembling in terror as he pressed the blade a little more against her neck. Right at the verge of breaking the skin, he looked back at Clara, looked back down at Raquel, saw what he could of her beautiful form, and looked at Clara again. Upon finally looking back down at Raquel, he removed the knife from her neck, tiredly said, "No" and pocketed the knife. Raquel, still half-naked and on her knees stayed there while Clara continued her thing and Montano got dressed again, no longer feeling his original desires towards the nubile younger sister.
Raquel, still petrified in fear for the moment, regained herself quickly as if nothing had happened, and whipped towards Montano, "What's wrong master!? Tell that bitch to go away so we can have some alone time!"
Clara said through a series of sniffles, "Don't call me a bitch Raquel!"
The two began shouting at one another again, and Montano for some reason couldn't bring himself to kill them, or even imagine it like he almost always did. Although, that sawed-off shotgun started looking like it might feel good pressed to his own head. Raquel had stood herself up and dressed in an instant, and the two continued to argue while Montano laid there on the cot wondering if Caesar would authorize his suicide to avoid any more of this life.
Suddenly, the women silenced themselves at once when Centurion Gula entered. Montano stood from his cot to the attention and Gula took a second, able to cut the tension and flurry of nonsensical emotions in the air with his machete. Montano said, "Ave, Centurion, True to Caesar."
The women remained silent, and Gula studied the air again for another moment with a questioning look before saying to Montano, "Come with me, Montano, your presence is required in the command district."
Without anything else, Montano walked out with Centurion Gula and both women remained silent for several long seconds after the two departed.
Clara finally turned to her sister, "Think anything will come of that?"
Raquel shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe. Let's turn it down a notch though. I actually thought he was going to kill me that time."
Clara approached her sister who showed the blade mark on her neck. "Yeesh, sorry sis, let me get that for you" as Clara started wiping the mark on Raquel's neck.
Montano and Centurion Gula walked from their section of the large fortification past dozens of tents and zones marking the other centuries making up the New Mexico Front. Hundreds of soldiers in crimson roamed the camp, exercising and training, ordering slaves where to go, sorting captives, and patrolling the pens of recent conquests. Slaves did their work tending to their assigned contuberniae, moving supplies, fetching water, and moving the wounded from returning raid groups, and watching the world around them as they restored armor, and refitted weapons or uniforms amidst the busy activity of the enormous fort. Montano and Gula marched past all paying no mind to much as they made their way further towards the series of tents atop the fort's hill marking the command district.
The two walked up the dirt paths, past the legionaries training and past the row of crosses lining the path, each one holding up the remains of some misfortunate soul decaying in the sun. Up they went until finally reaching the top of the hill, and past a collection of tents serving as quarters to the admin and logistics personnel attached to the command sector. Gula took the lead as they approached the large tent with a large seal of Caesar's face lined with banners of the bull. Centurion Gula spoke with the two praetorians outside the tent for a moment before one of them gestured towards the overlook a short 50 paces from the tent of Legate Graham himself. Gula motioned for Montano to follow him, and he did so.
Together, the men approached the overlook where there were three crosses at the edge of the cliff overlooking the allied township of Las Cruces only 5 miles away. When they got closer, Montano had noticed the man standing in front of the center cross, looking up at the man pinned to it, and surrounded by 12 legionaries, some of whom were wearing the capes of Praetorians. The twelve sets of eyes watched Montano and Gula as they approached, each face masked and helmeted if not wearing reflective shades. Most were holding spears and all of them had automatic rifles slung over their backs, standing motionless while that they approached continued to face the center cross. When Montano and Gula were within 10 paces of the man, they stopped at the signal of a praetorian, and there they stood.
Gula whispered for Montano to remove his mask and helmet, and he did just that before the two of them were left once more to stand in place as the wind blew slowly. Montano wondered why he was called to the command district in the first place, but took the time to look at the three men occupying the crosses and settlement in the distance. Montano was close enough to see that the two crucified men on the flanks were sunken on the posts, and the pools of blood beneath their nailed wrists were no longer growing, indicating the two were dead. As for the man nailed to the center cross, Montano saw the blood still dripping ever so slowly from where he'd been pinned, and though his head was hung low, Montano saw the man's chest still heaving large breaths that were noticeably becoming weaker each time.
Montano knew through experience in crucifying those who opposed Caesar that the man on the center cross was trying harder and harder to live, a task proved futile through what crucifixion does to men. Some men who are sentenced to crucifixion are bound to the cross by ropes and chains, left to die in the sun over the course of days, given water on occasion only in order to prolong the suffering of the condemned. Other crucifixions were done in the matter of expediting the death process. Those were done with nails that were driven into the extremities of the cross's victims. As the condemned were hauled up, the nails tore into the skin by the weight of gravity, and more blood poured into the sands beneath. Between the pain and shock at the experience and massive blood loss, the men nailed to a cross were left to die in a frantic state, their bodies unsure how to handle the situation, pain, loss of blood, and suffocation that came with the internal organs of the body crushing themselves in a pinned state; the breathing was made nearly impossible for much longer than a few hours at most, until life begins to fade, the breaths become shallow, and the blood stops. The body, completely destroyed and with death inching closer and closer in the unchangeable position, the cross was a means of killing in a manner of complete horror and agony.
After several long moments of standing in silence, the man staring up at the soul on the center cross turned around to face Montano and Gula. The man stood facing them silently still, wearing a standard Legion uniform but his upper garb and armor was decorated with gold lining, and with a large golden bull emblem peaking out from under the black wolf pelt tied around his shoulders, clasped in place by a golden pin resembling a crown of leaves. The man's maskless face was cleaner than most others and emotionless, only bearing the marks of the age and stress. The creases were in all the right places from probable decades of screaming orders over the roar of gunfire and the carnage of battle. The faintest mark of gunpowder marked his left cheek, indicative of a scar that'd been unaccounted for in a previous washing, and his hair stood light brown and combed over with only the smallest touch of grey to be seen in it.
The man looked Montano over again and glanced up from his face to see the flag of the bull sitting over Montano's shoulders, and the air was unusually tense even for Montano as he waited there patiently next to his Centurion. Montano knew who the man was, and was ready to speak to him, still unsure of what this meeting was about. The silent man turned ever so slightly back to glance at the cross behind him before looking back at Montano and ordering him to step forward with a motion of his hand.
Montano took several steps forward until he was within talking distance of the man and immediately dropped to one knee, placing his right fist over his heart and staring at the ground before him. Before Montano could give his greeting to the illustrious personage, the man said in a deep, calm, and almost sympathetic voice;
"I've been hearing your name a lot lately... Do you know who I am?"
Almost as if he'd been programmed, Montano raised his head only to look at the legs of the man and responded, "You are my Legate, the one sent to bear witness to the Son of Mars."
The Legate gave no response other than telepathically permitting Montano to look up and meet his eyes. Montano saw the face of Legate Graham still emotionless... But there was something else.
Behind those blue eyes, beaten face, and expressionless countenance, there was a peculiar sense that Montano could not figure. Still on his knee, Montano watched the lips of his Legate release the simple words;
"Why do you say that? Decanus Montano."
Montano looked back down at the knees of his supreme Legate, and replied to the question the only way he knew how, "That is what Caesar has taught us, what is true, My Legate."
The Legate remained silent for another long moment before looking again at the bull mounted on Montano's back and saying to himself with a light chuckle, "That's what Caesar is teaching them?..." He paused once again and looked back at Montano. He addressed the bowing Montano with a simple question, "What is truth?"
The question sounding more like a statement.
Montano hadn't ever wondered that, and searched his mind for the answer to the question before the Legate again told Montano telepathically to meet his face. Upon raising his head, the Legate motioned with his hand for the Signifer to rise. Montano stood to his feet and met the eyes of his Legate once more. After another long pause, the Legate stated in his characteristically military tone.
"I'm sure your statement from the words of Caesar was an act of gratitude on his part, but I am just a man, Decanus Montano. I wasn't sent to bear witness to anyone... Not anymore..."
The world remained silent as Montano stood at the ready, as he did whenever he spoke to anyone above his position. Montano suddenly glanced past his Legate at the man on the cross behind him who let out the most shallow breath and noise, what he perceived to be the cheyne-stokes of the crucified man. Though the Legate did not turn back to look at the man on the cross, he saw Montano's eyes flash upward for a second before asking the Decanus directly;
"Do you know how the condemned are nailed to the cross?"
Montano again glanced at the dying man who'd slowed his breathing before darting back to the face of his Legate, "The crucified are nailed to the cross through their wrists and through the metatarsal of the foot, My Legate."
Montano once more saw the man on the cross, and saw the blood still dripping from each nail he spoke of, the blood leaving its' mark on the sand below and running down the feet, staining the cross in so much red. The Legate asked, "And why is it done in the wrists and not the hands?"
Montano responded once more, "The bones in the hands are too weak to support the weight of a human being. The intersection of bones in the wrist ensures the crucified stay where they belong and suffer as long as possible when the nail is hammered in."
"Stay where they belong?" asked the Legate, almost rhetorically. Before Montano could conjure up another answer, the Legate added, "Do you know what those men behind me did to end up on those crosses?"
Montano ended his mind's search for the answer to the previous question, and replied robotically to the latter, "The cause is unknown to me, My Legate, but I know the Legate is always correct in dealing with those who oppose Lord Caesar."
Legate Graham stayed silent for yet another long moment, studying the scarred and beaten face of Montano, seeing that dead and wrathful essence behind his eyes that occupied the entirety of Montano as a person. Subservient, loyal, professional, brutal, merciless, savage, and ready to murder or be murdered at the moment of instruction, those were the sole characteristics and traits of Montano as he stood there facing his Legate. The Legate could see the very spirit of Montano, he understood it, and knew that Montano was a monster he himself created. A creature ready to die at any moment, a creature ready to kill at all times, a creature bred for the world they lived in, and one that Caesar deemed worthy of the highest praise. This was a praise that could only be delivered by the second of Caesar himself, a man who was above nearly all else in the wasteland, but who still saw himself as on a level field with Caesar. Still, to a man like Montano, the word of the Legate was the word of Caesar.
Legate Graham finally spoke, "These men were crucified so that their people could be 'saved', saved from us. They died-"
At the word "died", the last living man on the cross gave another short series of agonizing breaths before his head twitched and sunk again. The Legate resumed, "They died with the intention of saving a people we will be ending very shortly thanks to warriors like you."
The crucified man's breathing became inaudible, but still the blood dripped into the sands below. Montano placed his fist over his heart again as he responded, "It is only an honor to serve Lord Caesar. The resistance of such men is futile to his might."
Once more, the Legate remained silent, watching Montano and hearing the man behind him breathing ever so softly whenever the winds slowed. Finally, the Legate said to Montano, "Considering all of your actions on this campaign, and everything you've done in service to Caesar, I intend to raise you to the position of Centurion. From this point onward, you are charged with commanding the 32nd Century."
The Legate paused, allowing Montano to process the news before the new Centurion replied, "My Legate does me a great honor. I will carry out the new responsibilities to the entirety of Caesar's satisfaction."
Legate Graham then added, "Befitting your new position and service, I am permitting the creation of a mask to be made to your desires, and I will grant one specific demand of yours, whatever it may be."
The rewards, perk, and accolades bestowed upon him would have made Montano ecstatic, if he knew how to be. Instead, Montano replied sincerely as the Legate signaled for a praetorian to step up with a book in hand, "I only ask for the opportunity to serve Caesar greater, My Legate..."
The Legate looked at Montano for a moment as the praetorian stepped up and opened the book. Graham then asked, "Your position at the head of the 32nd Century will give you ample opportunity to serve Caesar in every way you desire.. Perhaps there's something else I can directly offer you?"
Montano thought for a second, considering the most efficient way of packing up his domicile on the 6th Century's end of the fort and considering the best means of situating his servant sisters in the new position. Suddenly, Montano heard the shrieking nonsensical cry of Clara in his mind and remembered the young Raquel arguing with her sister. The new position as a centurion would require him to learn the duties and responsibilities from others of the rank, something he figured would be more difficult with the two sisters anywhere near him. At the words of the Legate, Montano gave his one request the instant the idea entered his brain;
"If I may, my only request from My Legate is for a parcel of land in New Mexico..."
It wasn't uncommon for those promoted by such illustrious people like the Legate to request land; it just wasn't expected from a warrior like Montano. Time on respite often had legionary officers and centurions retiring to pieces of land within newly conquered territories. In fact, this means of reward often served to the Legion's benefit. When an esteemed warrior or officer was given land, the land was then built upon by the inhabiter, and farms or ranches were easily erected. Many farms that started as rewards to soldiers on respite turned into excellent means of sustaining and taming Legion territory. Officers on respite would build up their ranches when they weren't on campaign, and upon returning from campaign, they usually did so with more slaves to work the land. This was a great system for the Legion, and the relatively frequent deaths of those who'd been granted the land, often had everything turned over to the Legion state directly. It was very beneficial to have esteemed soldiers of Caesar work and build a plot of land, because of this, many of the northern Arizona farms and ranches under the bull banner fueled the Legion's campaigns. Some such places also ended up becoming breeding camps or soldier camps, depending on the utilities installed by the rewarded soldiers. Needless to say, though the request wasn't expected from Montano himself, the request was granted immediately. Little did the Legate know, Montano only really asked for the land in order to rid himself of two women he somehow couldn't bring himself to kill.
Clara smiled.
The praetorian then handed Montano the book, and standing before the Legate, Montano flipped through the pages looking for a mask template. Most legionaries offered a mask reward, ended up decorating them to their own desires, and detailed them with trophies and emblems of the conquered. Masks were rarely offered to those promoted, except by extreme actions of service to Caesar. There is plenty to say about custom masks, but the categories fell within only a few simple lines. In short, Montano chose a mask template resembling the expressionless "Art Deco" style metal masks given to the Flagstaff Guards of the Palatii. Caesar's personal centurions who directly protected his palace residence in the Legion capital. On top of that design, he made a note for the mask to bear that of a "Warfare mask", a design with large rivets on all of its seams, built for battle, and ready to be scratched and beaten beneath the expressionless elegance of the Art Deco face. Montano saw this saddened dead face as resembling his own, and the warfare rivet pattern would be meant to endure all the punishment he expected in the new position. The deal was set, and Graham asked if there was anything else the new Centurion needed while he still had an audience with himself.
Legate Graham sent the praetorian to deliver the mask order and promotion details to a runner on route to Circle Junction, and Legate Graham wrapped up the meeting by saying, "Your service to Caesar has been an example to all. You alone are seemingly only one of few out there made solely for the Legion, and I hope the rewards I've given adequately express your worth and value to the Legion."
Montano dropped to his knee once more and replied to his Legate, "The honor is all mine, My Legate. There is no higher reward than the praise of him who reigns above everything in this world. I will wear my rewards with pride and carry out my new duties only in service to the Son of Mars, My Legate."
Montano remained on his knee for a long time, waiting for dismissal from the Legate, but the order didn't come. Staring at the ground, Montano saw the feet of his Legate step away for a brief second. When he looked up, Legate Graham was holding a spear he took from one of the guards nearby. Montano wondered what he was doing when the Legate caught Montano's eye once more. The Legate then turned towards the cross where the man gave another weak breath as more blood dripped to the ground. Graham looked up at the sunken head of the last man alive on that set of crosses, and planted the spear in the victim's abdomen. Upon removing the spear, the blood from the wrists came to an end, and the man in that center cross fell limp for the final time. The dead man hung from the cross, and Legate Graham tossed the bloody spear into the dirt beside the kneeling Montano and said;
"You may leave."
Centurion Montano stood, did another respectful bow, and turned towards Centurion Gula, ready to depart.