The Inferno Within

The Next Morning

It wasn't any later than 8 in the morning when Montano and his nearly depleted century were packed up and ready to go. His men spent the better part of the morning gathering water from a small stream in the wilderness and all the tent supplies were loaded on their poles in line with his soldiers awaiting the order to proceed south. Montano did his last checks around the place of prior encampment, and looked across the highway to see the enormous force under the Interfector's banner was also mostly ready to begin marching in the opposite direction. The massive force stretched nearly a mile long and Montano's tiny brigade still looked like a pathetic excuse for a formation of Caesar's servants. He'd watched each of the chariots roar to life throughout the morning and take their places along the road, but somewhere before his unit was all packed up, he noticed that four of the vehicles hadn't moved from the field.

Montano saw as a crew from the Interfector's force came over to the resting vehicles and began working on them. For the past 30 minutes before Montano's unit was ready to go, he saw the soldiers still working on the terrifying machines as he took his place at the head of his tiny formation. Taking a look at the road south and hearing the distant engines of those idling war carts, he finally looked back at the four broken vehicles in the middle of the field and noticed the identifying plume of a centurion's helmet overseeing the repair work. With one last look at the road south, he saw two different centuries snaking around the idling chariots and continuing north. He saw that three weeks march just to Mesa Verde and the probable four weeks back, imagining what terror he'd feel and receive for missing out on the siege of Denver. Though he knew he'd likely be there for the final assault, every day he missed out on in siege was a missed chance to serve and bring glory to Caesar. At last, Montano brought his hands up to his gifted steel facemask, felt the large chip in the lower right side, and turned to his senior;

"Falco, wait here. We will be joining this force up to Denver."

Falco saluted, gave a signal to the force to rest in place, and Montano proceeded across the field to the broken vehicles and the officer in charge of the Interfector's battlegroup.

As Montano approached, his mind swarmed, not in an anxious way, just in a way that attempted to pinpoint the quickest means of obtaining what he needed. When Aleron was within 50 yards of Montano, the commander of the 32nd had landed on a reasonable cause for approach. He had the entire conversation planned out in his mind that would simply ask Aleron for the specific location of his Primus. Montano figured he would obtain the information, and dispatch a runner or Falco to quickly head up the line and make the request from Lord Interfector himself. With such a simple demand, the conversation with his rival would be no more than a minute, and no fighting would delay his mission further. Not more than 30 yards from the man, Montano heard and saw one of the vehicles spark to life and immediately begin chugging slowly towards the highway between Aleron and himself. Montano saw Aleron's head follow the vehicle as the man stayed in place while Montano continued his advance. The vehicle passed before Montano who paid no mind to it even as he was wrapped in the black cloud it made. As the chariot proceeded on, Montano emerged from the cloud and saw his rival had turned his attention back to the other three vehicles under repair.

Montano stopped when he was no more than ten yards from Aleron and could not find the words as he looked at the long gold-lined cape on Aleron's back. Montano considered the state of his own that was more ragged, burnt, and frayed than any he'd ever seen. The gold on his own had long since been burnt off and even his mask felt like it wasn't a gift from the Legatus Imperialis, but a scrap of garbage he'd fashioned to emulate one of the Legate's favored. Even Montano's uniform and the new sweater he wore somehow deteriorated in the night to match the rest of his ashy and blood-stained self. Finally, Montano looked at the vehicles past his rival and the crews working on them as he said;

"Such fine vehicles Lord Caesar has here, I haven't seen these since Phoenix."

Aleron knew the voice without even turning to see who it was, and hearing that voice again made Aleron's blood boil only for a split second before immediately cooling in the Colorado breeze. Aleron turned around, not seeing the man first, but seeing the absence of a centurion head at the distant crippled century he noticed earlier. Aleron's eyes landed on the man who said those words. Standing no more than ten paces before him was Centurion Montano, standing there in his gifted mask and nearly covered head to toe in dried blood, dirt, ash, and morning dew. Aleron saw Montano's uniform and armor west dented, cracked, and torn beyond belief. His armor and state wasn't a unique sight along the Meat Grinder, but for the first time in too long, Aleron considered how he looked to soldiers out here. The fan of red atop Montano's helmet was in a sorry half-burnt state, and the fine mask he gifted the man nearly 5 years earlier had the lower third of its right side chipped off. Upon meeting the eyes behind the mask, Aleron watched Montano remove the mask from his helmet as the blood-covered officer said;

"I thought that was you, Centurion Aleron. I couldn't quite tell from the distance but..."

With his rival now facing him, Montano got an even better look at the man's apparel. With his mask removed, Montano almost couldn't stop himself from gazing in near awe at the pristine condition of Aleron's attire. The steel of his cuirass and shoulder guards nearly glistened even in the overcast atmosphere and the leather torso guard was polished almost completely black, save for the iron studs along each strip. Montano felt his sleeves were rolled partially up and the burns and scars on his arms were even more visible. Before Montano could get lost in envying his rival's uniform even more, his mouth spoke for him,

"... What a fine uniform you're wearing-" Not intending to say anything unnecessary to the reason he was there, Montano stopped himself stopped himself and then began again with another intention to remind Aleron that cordiality was possible between them. Montano quickly added, "It's been so long since we served side by side, hasn't it, Centurion Aleron?..." For good measure, he also added quickly, "It's an honor to see you in the Colorado wilderness."

Aleron continued to look over Montano as he raised a fist to his heart, prompting Montano to do the same as Aleron replied, "It is an honor to see you too, Centurion Montano... How's Clara and Raquel?"

Montano answered, "Clara remains back at the homestead north of Gallup, and Raquel is there behind my staff..." He went to point to his depleted century by the highway but didn't turn his head upon noticing a few of the engineers looking up from their work at he and Aleron.

Aleron returned with a simple, "That's excellent to hear..." as his attention too was drawn more towards something else. Almost all of the eyes in Montano's century were looking their direction and he even noticed that the centuries marching up the Meat Grinder were all seemingly looking at them as they passed. Though the passing units were too far to truly say for sure, both men continued to feel like there were over a thousand eyes on them. Finally, the focus of both men landed on each other again and Aleron felt even more suspicious about why Montano approached in the first place. Montano felt equally disturbed by all the eyes on him, but he still only approached Aleron for one reason alone... A reason he couldn't seem to remember as he felt those eyes and looked upon his rival's uniform.

In an effort to possibly jog his memory, Montano asked plainly, "How goes regional control over the Elite's Praetorship?"

Aleron almost squinted in suspicion, but knew that facial expressions were something that not only showed weakness, but also led to unnecessary conflict. As Aleron wished he had a mask, he found himself answering Montano's question, "There remains a guerrilla war in northwest Arizona with the Desert Rangers. Auxilias continue their reluctance to offer tribute as well, and there's currently some issues with townships as reserve garrisons diminish in the Meat Grinder..."

There it was. Montano remembered the reason he approached Aleron. "I worry for our forces since the problems under the Praetor's control sound tenuous..." said Montano, remembering he needed replenishment forces, and the logistical problems in the Interfector's jurisdiction needed remedy. Upon realizing what he said and how it Wasn't beneficial towards obtaining the Interfector's whereabouts, Montano went to correct himself, but Aleron responded first in his calm demeanor;

"There is little to worry about, Centurion Montano. With the end of this front, regional stability will resume. Holding the territory however is just more difficult with the particular drain this front is causing."

Was that an ill statement against the eastern front? Montano thought for a second. Victory across the east was no reason for a lack of adaptability on the part of those leading logistical administration? Again, before Montano could realize that these thoughts in no way benefitted his goal, he found himself saying;

"I assure you that it truly is no picnic here in Colorado, Centurion Aleron. The front needs competence in logistical administration in order to progress."

Surely Centurion Montano did not just tell me how to do my job? thought Aleron. There's no way he came over to me to provoke a fight again, Aleron thought still. Aleron finally concluded that he would narrow in on the reason for approach since it obviously wasn't to fight. After all, Aleron briefly recalled the warm remark from his rival about his uniform on introduction, so clearly, he intended peace... Unless that remark was a subtle insult about my position at Circle Junction away from the Meat Grinder, Aleron again thought. With only the smallest measurable amount of rage boiling, Aleron decided to stay true and focus in on the reason for Montano's approach... Although, Aleron needed to correct Montano's statement first, so he said;

"Competence is not an issue, Montano. Although I can assure you that the logistics of the campaign, even this far from Circle Junction is not the impediment so much as the particular tactics and pace requiring such soldier demand on this end of the front. However, I understand your concerns. Given what I've seen in status reports following each battle, I see the style of warfare Caesar's enemies employ and what remedy is required."

That seemed peaceful enough, thought Aleron. At the same time, Montano thought, did Aleron claim to understand what it's like here in Colorado just by reading reports? With all thoughts of returning to the reason about to begin their sprint into the Meat Grinder, Montano asked as calmly as he could;

"You understand the enemies out here?..." Again, this was said as cordially as Montano could muster, even as he said, "... Then surely you understand that the tactics implemented by so many enemies in this land are only defeated by the most vicious and merciless of assaults ordered by the authority of Caesar and his esteemed subordinate on this front? Lord Caesar, and the Centurion Carnifex in particular are relying on replacements to be readily available when needed, especially with the fall of Denver fast approaching."

Aleron almost marveled at the fact that this man came over to him to offer instruction on how to do his job better. Aleron was excellent in his duties, and last thing he wanted was to get a lecture from a man who couldn't do half of the things he did to support the Legion daily. The kinds of problems I deal with are not the ones you can just swing a blade at, Aleron thought as he said;

"Those replacements are available, and supply is moving up the line at all hours since the start of the Campaign. Mesa Verde remains our anchor in this land, a place that is currently almost at capacity for soldiers to replenish battered centuries-"

Haha! Montano thought. He admitted it. It's Aleron's fault that Montano is having to make the three-week march just to get replenishment forces from Mesa Verde. Just before realizing he didn't have to make that trip after acquiring the whereabouts of Lord Interfector, Montano interrupted Aleron;

"An excellent word to hear, Aleron, but being this far from Mesa Verde is rather limiting to the progress of the campaign when it's moving faster than logistics can apparently keep up."

Montano at least found some comfort in the calm delivery of his words, but before anything else, Aleron said, "Do not interrupt me, Montano..." Then immediately, Aleron resumed, "Outposts and resupply points are at equal intervals along the line, so I can only enforce my position that the tactical mind of commanders like Carnifex would better be oriented towards preservation of legionaries when possible. I must still admit that I don't see how bettering the movement of troops and supplies could prevent something like the state of your unit. What exactly happened to your century anyway?"

"That is my concern, Aleron. My unit is merely in need of replenishment before re-joining Lanius in Denver." Montano wondered why the Hell in Caesar's name that This man would ever need to know what kind of battles the 32nd had gone through... Then it occurred to him again that gaining replenishments from the Interfector's force was the reason he approached in the first place.

When Montano was done, both were tense, and Aleron asked, "Re-joining? But what could have happened this close to the highway to Denver? Which enemy has been neglected in order to cause such a diminishment of your century?"

Montano was tired and again forgot the reason he was there after hearing another slew of words from That man. Montano said plainly, "I tire of your questions, Aleron. However, I will tell you, since you're about to finally join this front under the leadership of Carnifex that war under him moves very fast. Sometimes when you're so busy killing one enemy, you are blind to another."

"I dont follow." said Aleron beginning to wonder even more about the reason Montano was talking to him.

Montano explained, "My Cohort under Lanius was sent to destroy the backstabbing *Tribe Erased* immediately before he moved to Denver. The *Tribe Erased* was bigger than the Guerreros but fell in 1/8th the time under his leadership. Though my century fought valiantly, some ill-trained New Mexican conscripts of the 48th under Centurion *Name Erased From History* fell back, and despite the victory, Carnifex ordered the decimation of the entire Cohort."

"How could that be? Especially if you won the day? Decimation is so rarely done?" Asked Aleron, more interested in the situation than even he thought he'd be.

Montano answered, but not before feeling something of a new sense of pride in his battered appearance, "Perhaps you truly have been too far from the front because Carnifex takes no amount of failure in the pace of this campaign."

At that, Aleron briefly looked himself over. He noticed the shining state of his armor and intact uniform in a way that he didn't think would happen. Montano felt Aleron's look and felt even more pride in his own disgusting uniform than earlier, knowing that he was now the envy of the man before him. Feeling like he'd won... whatever this was... Montano's world was thrown into a confusing spiral once more when his rival smacked him over the head with the reason for approach.

Aleron said in a casual manner, "I see, well, you can petition Lord Interfector for replenishments of your decimated unit."

In that simple sentence, Montano immediately went from that feeling of triumph to a feeling of defeat. This feeling wasn't because of his rival being the one to suggest the replacements, but because of Aleron's use of the word "Decimated." Sure, Montano had used the word because that is part of what happened to his unit. However, Aleron had seemingly ignored the part where Montano's forces fought valiantly. Aleron's words made it seem like Montano was in need of replenishments because of that decimation reason alone... Which was something that put any notion of concluding the matter in the furthest part of his mind. Aleron, felt the same way, his offer was not intended to insult Montano, but it was always destined to one way or another.

After a silent moment, one of the chariots kicked on. The engine whirred to life and moved slowly to a spot beside Aleron and Montano. The pilot lowered his mask and shouted to Aleron over the whir of the engine, "Centurion Aleron!? Shall I!?-" but the soldier was cut off by the raise of Aleron's hand.

The chariot idled beside the two and Aleron looked back to Montano, asking, "Does that suit you, Montano!? Shall I have the Interfector bolster your-!?"

Montano shouted over the engine, "Take one of these chariots!? Alright!" Montano heard what was really asked, but he also knew what he was doing as he looked over the rumbling vehicle beside him. Montano took little interest in his rival's words as Aleron replied;

"That is not what I said! It is no trouble at all! Lord Interfector brought up plenty of replenishments!..." Montano was still busy studying the chariot and barely heard the previous words until Aleron's last statement, "... The decimated soldiers of your century at least, should be replenished as soon as possible!"

There it was again! Why does this desk rider insist on belittling the actions of my forces, especially the forces on the east, the forces under Caesar!? Montano thought as he noticed Aleron signal for the pilot to step down, who did so after putting the contraption into a halt. The engine whirred low and soft as Montano saw Aleron give the pilot a piece of paper. When the pilot walked towards the other broken vehicles to carry out some order, Montano turned away from the chariot and back to his rival. All he could think about is Aleron's obviously intentional means of irritating him. When Aleron felt the gaze of Montano long enough, he turned to the man who said;

"Why are you even here, Aleron? From what it sounds like, there's a lot going on in your territory. Perhaps it's best you take your shiny uniform and see to assisting us on the front rather than speaking ill about my valiant forces."

Aleron was honestly shocked at hearing this. Aleron was under the impression that they had reached some sort of mutual understanding with his offer to bolster Montano's century. All this prompted Aleron to respond;

"Why the hostility? I never spoke ill of your unit? You said it yourself that the battle took its toll on your troops and the decimation only furthered that. You also said that this front is moving fast, which means, you don't have time to go all the way to Mesa Verde when Lord Interfector has legionaries for you right now."

This apologetic clarification was something that Montano simply couldn't accept, especially since Aleron used that word "Decimation" again. Montano remained true to his conviction and utterance. The provocative words he said were true (To him at least), Aleron was better suited away from Montano in the thick of the Colorado Campaign. Unfortunately, Montano couldn't connect the fact that it was Caesar who ordered Aleron and his Primus to Denver, and wasn't just some chance for them to "get out there."

As the vehicle continued to softly whir next to them, Montano stayed true to his stance, "Perhaps you should move along, leave these machines here for those who could actually use them"

This statement bewildered Aleron again who still couldn't quite grasp the reason Montano was escalating things. Aleron replied strictly, "I don't appreciate your tone when I had been nothing but cordial to you, Montano. These vehicles are to be used in the encirclement of Denver-"

Montano remembered being told not to, but he intentionally interrupted Aleron this time when he said, "Yes, Denver, a place where I'm going to fight, not just to drop off equipment."

Aleron's blood was beginning to boil again, "I am not just dropping these off, I am to accompany Lord Interfector in the siege as well. Yes, directly alongside your Lanius or Carnifex. Under the advisory of Lord Interfector, perhaps 'valiant' units such as yours will be prevented from suffering further unnecessary decimations."

At that Montano simply felt astounded that Aleron would actually use the word "Valiant" in a mocking manner, and then finally end his statement with another intentional reminder of the 32nd's decimation. Aleron knew full well that decimation was something done to entire cohorts, even for the actions of a lone century. It is unknown when exactly Aleron knew what he was doing, but in his words above, he did intentionally imply that Montano's unit was the one bearing the stain of cowardice. In an attempt to justify his position and take a jab at Montano, Aleron felt victorious until Montano's silence was explained.

Wordlessly, Montano looked away from Aleron and took two steps before swinging his leg up on the chariot. As Montano took his place in the chariot's gun carriage, Aleron's brain struggled to process the act of silent defiance before him. Finally, Montano began fiddling with the controls and Aleron ordered still calm,

"Leave that vehicle alone. You can't even pilot one of these."

Montano, more focused on examining the controls, said as if simply uninterested in Aleron's order, "Can't be too hard to figure out."

Aleron's blood began to steam, "I ORDER YOU TO STEP DOWN!"

The brand new charioteer looked up from the control box, as he flipped the gear switch into drive. The engine let loose a howl and Montano asked Aleron over the roar, "You order me!?"

Aleron's head began to steam and his mind scrambled for words while fantasies about executing this worthless dog flashed through his mind. Before Aleron could say anything else, Montano's new ride jolted forward. The last two machines in the field sparked to life in an instant as well, Aleron saw red, and lost complete control of his actions as he ripped Montano off the machine and began savagely assaulting him there in the mud.

Punch after punch was delivered to Montano's head and face until Montano managed to pull his assailant off. The two wrestled in the mud delivering intense blows to one another with Aleron having the advantage by striking first. Finally, Aleron twisted the man's arms to a point that allowed him to take his spot back on top of Montano. In the maneuver, he found himself in a position where neither could move, but Aleron was at least in the position of victory. The two stopped everything and Aleron in the winner's spot felt the presence in front of him. Figuring it was the engineers who were ready to assist, Aleron said through winded breaths;

"Good, you're here... Now... Arrest this insubordinate worm!"

Aleron was surprised when no reply came and he wiped some of the mud from his eyes on his shoulder guard only to briefly see a group of blood and dirt-covered legionaries before him. Still focused on the sneering and muddy face of his rival, the voice of Montano's Senior ordered more powerfully than Caesar himself;

"Centurion Aleron, release my Commander at once."

Aleron didn't look up, but then he felt the weapons pointed at him and the two men released their grips as Aleron stood. As he stood to his feet, Aleron glanced around and saw his staff was still nowhere to be seen while the group of engineers stood by their machines unsure what to do about the whole thing. Montano dragged himself out of the mud with the assistance of Falco as the staff continued to train their guns on Aleron. Feeling completely betrayed by the whole world, Aleron stepped forward and screamed into the guns pointed at him,

"You, Montano, should be killed!..." Still feeling those guns and glancing at the idle engineers, he whipped back to Montano and his staff. The sight disgusted Aleron and he continued, "You!? I'll see you and the rest of your century crucified!-"

Before Aleron could say anything else, Montano spat, "Go ahead, Aleron! Go petition Lanius about this incident when you reach Denver! See if Lanius doesn't kill you outright for wasting his fucking time! Your power in Circle Junction means Nothing to him, Caesar, or the forces in the Meat Grinder!"

Aleron stood stunned, but met the words head-on with pure Legion ferocity, "It would be You who'd get his unit Decimated, Ha! Fucking failure! How have you not been killed for cowardice already!? Relying on your staff to save you!?"

Immediately Montano screamed, almost too enraged to choose his words coherently, "You talking shit!? Seriously!? I love killing my own! You can't survive six seconds out here under Lanius! You and your pristine uniform and shit!? Go tell Lord Interfector you'll go back where you belong!: Playing 'Supply Bitch' for us true servants of Caesar on the Edge of Gl-"

"Fuck you Montano! I'll fucking kill you!" Aleron shouted, his voice more resembling that of a demon than a person.

Montano cackled maniacally, "You haven't killed anyone but defenseless slaves in how long? What? 11 years now!? HAHA!"

It was almost too much. Aleron reached towards the SMG on his hip but stopped himself when a flash of clarity showed those guns still pointing at him and remembered he was all alone in this somehow. He was too enraged to order assistance from the engineers, and even if he did, he knew what Montano would say to the plead for backup. Aleron intended to prove that he was more Legion than the wretch before him, and there were fewer ways of doing so than by storming headfirst against overwhelming odds that nearly ensured death. He would prove who was truly ready to leap from the "Edge of Gl-" but then he cut all his thoughts short.

There in the silence of a world where time had stopped, Aleron thought of the Interfector. If Aleron learned anything from years at the Interfector's side, it was that true service to Caesar was getting the job done to benefit the Legion. Aleron knew he was too important in his station to throw his life away against this "Thing" that called itself "Centurion Montano." Aleron had already let his "Feelings" get the better of him when he assaulted the man. So, for the first time in his years of knowing Montano, he decided to stand down from a seemingly inevitable fight.

Aleron halted his reach for the gun and let it hang as he instead wiped some more mud from his face. His uniform was ruined from it's prior state, and he felt a bit of pride in this as he continued looking into the barrels of those guns. Aleron reached up and straightened his mud stained helmet and looked back into the eyes of Montano as he said softly;

"I have job to do, Montano. Caesar's orders to the Interfector and I must be done..."

Still calm, Montano's shoulders were rising up and down with that little line of guns behind him as Aleron continued;

"That said, you go fuck yourself and get your replenishments from Mesa Verde instead. I hope the three weeks of march cause enough of a delay to get you and the rest of your cowardly decimated unit killed. That would be the biggest service you can do for Caesar, you fucking failure."

Montano was speechless, even as Aleron turned his back on the man to give the engineers a signal of some sort. One legionary ran to hop on Montano's abandoned ride and the other two repaired vehicles began chugging towards the highway as well. Aleron took a few steps forward to join the gaggle of engineers and Montano wouldn't have it. The words Aleron said were just about the most atrocious thing one legionary has ever said to another, then he just walked away? Montano was left to a very real and possible fate, a fate that he played a big part in creating, a fate that he would not tolerate. Aleron stopped in his tracks when Montano managed to sputter;

"He's talking about the 32nd as cowards when he's the one literally walking away!? Ha!"

None of Montano's staff laughed, instead they just silently lowered their guns as Aleron continued his walk with the engineer group back to the main road.

Who was at fault for this situation? Montano first? Aleron second? Montano third? These were the thoughts going through both men's minds. Montano was defeated from the physical standpoint in the end as he rejoined his diminished century to begin the march south. The man was resigned to the three weeks of marching and the equally long return trip before joining the siege of Denver. However, there was little he could do other than give the order of march. His 33 remaining men picked up their tent poles and supplies, where they began silently following their commander whose head was swarming with new thoughts and prayers that he'd stumble across another bolstering unit along the way.

Aleron took the last verbal blow and continued to walk until he approached the head of the long column where all the vehicles were rumbling behind him. Even after taking his place at the front, Aleron felt like the bigger man up until precisely 3.4 seconds after seeing Montano's column begin their march. As they approached, ready to pass the long column, the second Montano's face was close enough to detail Aleron felt like what he truly was "A Centurion who walked away." Sure he won the physical altercation, but he lost the honor battle astoundingly. Aleron tried not to let this get to him as he unconsciously walked to the lines of chariots under the guise of a standard check, but it wasn't working. Aleron's force was ready to go, standing on the old highway awaiting the order to march. While casually looking over the vehicles he was attempting to inspect, Aleron was more focused on Montano continuing to march south. They were almost about to reach the Interfector's staff and pass the chariots.

Aleron almost vomited even at thought of what Montano would say in passing and the original insult was continuing to eat him alive. Just as Montano's unit passed the Interfector's staff, Aleron could handle the insult and possibility of further insult no more. In an instant, Aleron lost complete control of his actions and didn't know what he was thinking as he took over the driver spot on the nearest chariot. All he knew was that he was not a big enough man to back down from anything, no matter the task at hand. Regardless of who that insult was from, Aleron would not stand for such words that belittled his ability to advance the Legion, even if retribution meant diminishing that ability.

Aleron took the controls of that chariot and gunned it right into Montano's column.