7,000 Degrees Fahrenheit
Montano threw himself out of the way just in time, but felt the ram on the head of the chariot smash into his right foot before getting tossed into the mud. The 33 in his battlegroup were also largely spared from mortal injuries, but the act was clearly intentional. Montano picked himself up out of the mud as the unit continued to collect themselves. Upon putting some pressure on the foot, Montano feared possible dislocation, but that didn't stop rage and adrenaline from taking over when he saw the mud covered centurion helm operating that vehicle. Falco helped his centurion out of the mud, but Montano continued looking at the vehicle wheeling around in the field. Fearing another pass, Montano ripped the spear out of Falco's hand and chucked it at the vehicle.
After the incident, Aleron turned the chariot around, his mind swarming with thoughts about how to operate the machine, what he'd done, and regret about the whole thing. All those thoughts departed when he looked back at the highway and saw the spear sticking out of the vehicle's side. How Montano managed to lodge a spear into an armored steel chassis from nearly 100 yards away was beyond Aleron's understanding, but the act itself was signal enough for the true concern. Aleron yanked the spear right out of the vehicle's side and lobbed it right back.
Montano felt the spear whip right past his head and found it wobbling in the spot where mud met road. Falco was about to ask his centurion for calm and reason for focus on an objective, but he knew those traits never truly applied to Montano whose viciousness in Colorado said all it needed to. There's no need for calm and reason when those things were so easily mutilated out of existence in a glorious display. There was not a person on earth that could stop Montano from pulling that spear out of the asphalt and pulling the pilot off one of the Interfector's chariots. Before anyone in the Interfector's enormous column could react, Montano hopped on his own vehicle and clumsily sped towards his rival in the center of the field. Both men learned the controls as they went, Aleron jammed the propulsion pedal as Montano did the same. Aleron, without even knowing it was there, reached for a spear in a large quiver beside the control box, and just before passing, both men hurled spears at one another. Both had missed, but that wasn't nearly the end of it as they recovered from the pass and came to halts at the center of the field.
Both drivers stopped their vehicles there in the open, each one facing the other with nearly 300 yards between. Before another charge, the two noticed the entire mass of soldiers gathered around the edge of the small plain. Other passing centuries of the Colorado Meat Grinder placed themselves at the edge of the field as well, wondering what the spectacle was while the other twelve vehicles rested on the road abandoned by their crews. What must have been nearly two full strength cohorts worth of troops were gathered around the field, banners sticking up from the masses of red, and even the slaves in the crowd were completely captivated. Everyone Legion along that stretch of road were curious and captured by this display of defiance, knowing in that strange telepathic way that whatever was going to happen was for Caesar and the Legion in some twisted way.
Both men looked at each other from across the plain and knew there was no backing down now, not that either duelist was intending to. Caesar himself likely couldn't stop the two men, and he probably wouldn't even want to since it was all for him. Before resuming their battle, the men noticed a pair of centurions approaching from the mass of forces. They thought the centurions might be there to arrest, but if that was the case, they likely wouldn't have been coming alone. The pair of centurions split when they were halfway between the duelists, each one walking slowly towards one of the rivals.
As Aleron's man got closer, he could see who it was. Centurion Taurus approached Aleron in the middle of the field and stopped not more than ten yards away. With a Legion salute, Centurion Taurus called up at Aleron atop the loud chariot, "Centurion Aleron! Will you give me the honor of acting as mediator for this engagement of mutual combat!?"
Aleron was briefly amazed that the words from Taurus weren't a plea to see clearly and resume the march. Too lost in the why, Aleron's mouth answered for his heart when his brain wasn't able, "This engagement needs no mediation! I will see to this insubordinate creature's end on behalf of the Legion!"
Centurion Taurus replied with another salute, "Understood, Centurion Aleron!" and began walking back to the congregated mass.
At the exact same time, Centurion Montano couldn't identify the commander who stopped before him. The unknown officer shouted up at Montano over the roar of the engine with a salute, "Centurion Montano! I hope you deemed the supplies I requisitioned to your senior as satisfactory!?"
Montano met the eyes of the officer and it clicked, "You must be Centurion Sereno! And yes, I intend to pay you back in full as soon as I deal with this pathetic excuse for a Legion commander!"
Centurion Sereno of the 59th replied, "No need! I only ask that you allow me the honor of mediating this engagement with Centurion Aleron!"
Montano briefly wondered how Sereno knew that Aleron was on the vehicle across the field, having almost completely forgotten that he himself was the subject of a story told around Legion camps. Montano never even met Centurion Sereno before this moment, but who else would be the man that Falco's commander would engage in such a setting? Lost in his thoughts, Montano only replied, "This engagement needs no mediation! I will see to the execution of this self-important waste of space on behalf of Caesar!"
Sereno gave another salute and replied to Montano, "Very good, Centurion Montano!"
Both Taurus and Sereno walked back to the mass of crimson soldiers beside the highway and met in the middle discussing the particulars of how they would act in possible scenarios that may transpire in such a unique fight. The two stopped about 30 paces from the rest of the enormous crowd and did an about-face to act as mediators and give some form of impromptu legitimacy for the event. Both officers had told the other what was said in their brief interactions with the duelists and briefly marveled how they used almost the same words. What especially stood out to the mediators was how both duelists said that this was an official act on behalf of Caesar or the Legion.
Under normal circumstances, fabricating an order on behalf of Caesar was an action worthy of execution. The same could also be said about fabricating orders on behalf of the Legion without approval from Caesar or someone like a Legate or Elite. Taurus was certain that Aleron was not given any orders with the Elite or Caesar's approval for the chariot-based killing of Montano. Sereno too was almost entirely certain that Caesar did not authorize the execution of Aleron, especially in this vehicular fashion. However, both acting mediators came to the same silent conclusion that this was just "Part of the act."
Both mediating officers had heard the same story as every other masked face in the sea of red and black behind them, and both knew one of the rivals somewhat personally if not by some procedural relationship. Still, despite being too Legion to show it, both officers were excited to watch a legend play out before their eyes and allowed the order fabrications to go un-reprimanded or un-reported. With plenty of reputable witnesses in the crowd behind them, the co-mediators raised their blades and the duelists gunned it towards the other before the blades could fall.
The wind picked up as the two vehicles sped towards each other, but not even the wind could prevent their spears from being hurled at a nearly impossible velocity as they made their pass. Both spears had missed again and the charioteers only knew this when they were far enough away and the black smoke had cleared. Both men were furious that the other still stood and the two whipped their war carts around to make ready for another pass. The whole field was filtered in a black haze as the two vehicles skidded in the mud to orient themselves for charge and the roaring engines continued to pour their black smoke into the air.
As both drivers skidded into place, one would never have guessed that the men didn't have years of vehicle operating experience under their cingulae. The mass of Legion forces was almost silent as the grave as each masked soldier watched the scene, many of the slaves believing this fight was some sort of demonstration for what Caesar's machines were capable of. Most veterans and centurions in the mass knew firsthand why this was happening since some had seen the two wrestling in the mud barely thirty minutes prior, and although they were all too disciplined to cheer, many began stomping in place after the first official pass. The action spread until the entire stationary mass beside that stretch of highway sounded like a terrifying march creeping closer and closer to a glorious, blood-spattered, and savage end for all Caesar's opposition. The duelists facing each other, both men looked to the enormous crowd of witnesses and heard that marching sound before it was all buried under another scream of the engines as they charged once more.
As the two charged one another, the field quickly became even more clouded in smoke with the large wheels of each contraption tearing up the grass and spraying mud in every direction. Visibility was almost completely gone for both men before hurling their spears once again. Montano couldn't see it coming, but Aleron's spear flew out of the smoke and clipped Montano in the neck. While Aleron couldn't see his minor victory, he knew he'd made some success when a burst from Montano's SMG came from the smoke. The action made Aleron return with his own long spray of bullets, but the two continued their pass and made another turn and halt on opposite sides of the field. As the smoke cleared and the vehicles rumbled in a halt, they assessed the damage.
Aleron noticed a brand new dent in his shoulder guards where one of Montano's bullets pelted the thick steel. The small hole showed his shoulder was just barely spared and the lack of an exit hole gave meaning to the hot loose object bouncing around in the hollow space beneath his pauldron. Aleron's vehicle on the other hand took the most damage. Aleron heard the engine continue chugging and sputtering, but he could see hydraulic fluid or some sort of oil spraying out from somewhere under the front right wheel well. the haze had cleared just enough for Aleron to see Montano reloading his submachinegun and Aleron went to reach for his ammo satchel when he noticed something unique.
Montano peered through the smoke as best he could to see the damage he'd done to Aleron, but his attention was quickly brought to his neck. He raised his hand and felt his neck, upon inspection, his hand came out very red. As red as it was, it didn't appear to have severed the artery, but tracing the wound with his blackened fingers showed a slim chunk of his neck was taken away by Aleron's spear. Taking a quick inventory, he noticed his vehicle and person was largely spared Aleron's return fire, but then he adjusted in place and noticed the pain in his foot from earlier. Surmising it was an ankle dislocation based on the site of pain, and figuring his neck could be bandaged off later, he figured he could fix at least one of his problems without his rival noticing any supposed success. Montano stomped his dislocated foot on the floor of the chariot, the ankle bone popped back in place and he laughed hysterically at the pain beneath the engine noise. Head back in the game, Montano reloaded his weapon very overtly to show his enemy he was ready for more, but to his surprise, Aleron had managed to detach something from the side of his vehicle, a long pole of some sort.
Aleron lifted up the heavy instrument off a mount on the left side of the chariot. Taking it off the rack, he wrapped his hands around the oxygen tanks, saw the gauges, and cackled to himself as he realized what he'd found. Being no stranger to the steelworks of Circle Junction, and more importantly, how to incinerate Caesar's enemies with old world tools, he ignited the end of the long thermic lance and looked deep into Montano's eyes from across the field.
Montano couldn't look long at the brightest thing in 100 miles. He immediately looked and found his own long thermic lance on the side of his chariot and too knew how to ignite the thing from experience with smaller versions of this industrial monstrosity.
The mass had to look away when the lances were ignited for they were the brightest thing in any direction. These balls of rock melting fire at the end of their ten-foot poles were made even brighter in the black haze and overcast landscape along the highway. With both men ready for their ends, the two locked eyes past their miniature suns sparking at 7,000 degrees Fahrenheit and screamed into the wind as their engines roared. Their chariots launched them towards each other at over 40 miles per hour and smoke shrouded the landscape once more while the balls of fire got closer and closer to one another. The lancers immediately lost their ability to aim in the flurry of smoke and both men watched in awe as the balls of fire approached through the cloud. With one last scream for their honor, the suns had landed where destiny decided and the duel ended.
Aleron lost grip on his lance the millisecond he felt the impact. The Interfector's second shifted himself just in time to save his life but Montano's thermic weapon slid its way across Aleron's left pec to his right shoulder, melting the steel of his armor like nothing and instantly cooling in the Colorado cold. Aleron was thrown from his chariot, his upper armor almost completely melted to a new shape around his right shoulder. With Aleron embracing the pain of those third-degree burns across his upper torso, he laid there in the mud in agony, surrounded by the cloud of black smoke with Montano's lance lying a few feet away, melting the earth around it.
Montano felt the lance get pulled from his hand, something he took as a sign of victory in the cloud of smoke. Although he couldn't recall what happened to Aleron's weapon since he was so focused on aiming his own through the blinding light and blackness. Montano couldn't think about this long because a second later, his vehicle burst through the smoke and before looking back to try and see his victory, he noticed Aleron's lance sticking out the front of his chariot's pilot carriage. In an instant, Montano felt the heat and looked down to see Aleron's lance incinerating and melting its way through his control box. In a panic, Montano jammed on the breaks, tried switching gears, and steering, but it was no use as the control box was sparking and hissing and rapidly becoming a lump of molten metal. Montano saw the thick woods around the field getting closer and closer and his vehicle was stuck speeding at 40 miles per hour. Knowing he was stuck on a speeding machine he had no control over, his final resolution was to look back and try to see if he'd at least be meeting Aleron in Hell through the smoke cloud in the center of the plain. Montano unfortunately could not tell before everything went black.
Some say Montano's vehicle slammed into a tree and sent him into another. Some say Montano was knocked unconscious on collision when he was thrown into the barbed wire netting above his chariot. Either way, Montano did not die, and neither did Aleron. Everyone there saw Montano's chariot get wrecked at the edge of the woods and saw Aleron's vehicle slow to a halt just beyond the smoke cloud without a rider. By the time of Montano's wreck, the cloud had cleared enough to show Aleron lying in the field beside Montano's sparking weapon, and many soldiers ran to each duelist. Upon finding both duelists still breathing, the only thing that needed to be known was that both had won, but both had lost yet again.
Three Days Later
Aleron sat there in the personal tent of Lord Interfector awaiting his return from that brief "errand." Aleron had spent the past two other nights in there as well after passing the outpost at Fairplay and the man shifted uncomfortably. He was rather used to sharing a tent with Lord Interfector during the march to Denver and even over the years during their semi-frequent tours around the Praetor's territory. It should come as no surprise that this recent uneasiness was due to the chariot duel three days earlier. He remembered hearing about a collision, but Aleron unfortunately fell out of consciousness shortly before, and couldn't see past Montano's weapon as he laid there in the mud. His injuries, though still very painful even three days later, allowed him to regain consciousness only an hour or two after the duel. All he truly remembered after getting thrown from the chariot was the moment he awoke. He wished he'd remained unconscious because he remembered waking up when a couple armorers from a nearby century were prying off his armor. When Montano's weapon landed, it essentially melted his armor to "Better fit" his shoulder. Being almost impossible to take off, the armorers thought it might be best to keep his shoulder part steel since that seemed the more legendary solution. In the end, it was decided against and Aleron awoke in the middle of them re-heating the armor to better remove it. Even at this time, the pain of the injury and crude treatment remained.
Though Aleron didn't know it, Taurus had resumed the march while he was out shortly after getting he vehicle operational again. By the time the thermic lances came out, Taurus realized that his and Sereno's roles as mediators were futile, and so he dispatched a runner to relay word of what was happening to the Interfector. The runner was already a mile up the road when Montano's vehicle was destroyed. With the site of the duel being less than a full day's march from Fairplay, the Interfector wouldn't take long to return to the large battlegroup already marching under Taurus after the incident. So, it was that evening that Aleron awoke again on the back of a different chariot and met with the Interfector who'd made the run from the meeting with Caesar at Fairplay almost immediately upon hearing the news. To Aleron's surprise, the Interfector didn't say anything other than, "Good, you're awake" that night.
So, two days and two nights later, Aleron had continued to walk directly behind the Interfector who remained silent for almost the whole time even when they encamped. Aleron was given basic instructions or orders to carry out during each encampment, but it was on that second day when Aleron learned that there was a new century that had joined the Interfector's bolstering cohort. To little surprise, it was Montano's 32nd Century, completely replenished with soldiers from the Interfector's force. Then it was on that second night of encampment that Aleron counted the chariots. 13 out of the original 14 remained, and Aleron knew that number was due to what happened to Montano's chariot, a destruction of Caesar's greatest machinery that he himself was responsible for. So, the march went on, Denver got closer, and Aleron thought a lot about the condition of Montano, but didn't have to think about it long since idle conversation from off duty legionaries said he was still alive. Aleron did not wish to know much more than that, and didn't even have an opinion on the matter. Aleron instead was more focused on the lack of words from his commander and friend. He simply couldn't tell if the Interfector just had a lot on his mind or if he was angry about the duel. The Interfector didn't shine any light on either.
The questions about Montano burned in Aleron's mind despite not even knowing whether or not he had yet to awake from the fight, and the Interfector remained something of a mystery to Aleron regardless of how long he'd known the man. At the end of each day, Aleron would lay down to sleep after a rough march in his condition and then consider the question of what was to happen to both he and Montano. He thought back to the Gold Canyon whipping post all those years ago, the mercy extended to him at first, and then the feel of that whip in front of the Ajoans and wondered: "What was to come of this?" Aleron hadn't been harmed for disciplinary infractions in so long, and he doubted Montano had as well. Both men were centurions, and outside of tremendous battlefield failure, centurions of the Legion were so rarely punished. Would an incident like the chariot fight be brought before Caesar himself for punishment? Would both he and Montano be crucified for their conduct? Or, Aleron had not truly expected this, but would it be possible that both he and Montano would perhaps be rewarded for their courage? The latter was doubtful, but stranger things have happened that ultimately resulted in Caesar being pleased.
Aleron recalled all of this and speculated so much more as he sat there in the Interfector's tent on the morning of that third day. Outside the standard encampment duties he was instructed to carry out, that morning the Interfector gave Aleron the first unexpected directive since the duel: "Wait here till I return."
Many minutes passed and Aleron was still waiting patiently as he heard the pack up going on outside the tent. Finally, the Interfector returned, ducking under the opening while Aleron was in the middle of thinking about Montano. Aleron stood to the attention upon his commander's entry and gave his "Vale" as the Elite silently motioned for Aleron to sit back down. Aleron did so and the Interfector removed his long wolf coat from over his shoulders, and warmed his hands by a lit torch as he glanced at his second with a soft grin;
"I'm certain you'll be happy to know that Montano just awoke this morning."
Aleron noticed this grin was the first facial expression he'd seen on his Primus since the duel before Aleron returned, "Excellent news to hear, My Lord."
The Interfector almost chuckled as he looked back into the flame, saying idly, "Tell me how you really feel..."
Aleron was about to convey his internal disposition on the subject of Montano's recent awakening when the Interfector added the answer to what Aleron was thinking about prior to the sarcastic directive, "... Montano suffered two fractures in his left leg and one in his right, the only thing that saved his life after a head injury like that was his helmet, and his ribs are..."
The duelist momentarily felt rather proud in what he'd done to the man until he recalled that the machine did most of it on collision. Something that stole some of the glory from his "victory." He attempted to regather some of that glory when he considered that it was his weapon that destroyed the machine. Before he could re-obtain that pride, he remembered again that his victory destroyed a nearly irreplaceable piece of Legion equipment. Aleron just sat there and listened to the few other injuries Montano sustained, and despite how bad they were, everything the Elite was saying sounded like they weren't enough to send him to the Recuperatio Unitatis. The man briefly recalled his own tremendous pain where Montano's lance melted its way across his chest and shoulder and really heard the last part of the Interfector's status report;
"... Montano vowed to be upwardly-mobile by the time we reach Denver."
Ahah, a new way to best that man; Aleron thought as he internally vowed to overcome his melted chest and shoulder's pain before reaching Denver. As soon as he realized the Elite was looking at him again, he noticed a little more of the man's return to his usual self. Aleron truly wondered why the Elite was seemingly fine with the whole thing and thought once more about the kinds of punishments he felt were due. The Interfector could see this thought battle in Aleron's mind and prompted with the motion of a hand for Aleron to respond.
Aleron asked almost confused, "What's to come of the incident?"
The Elite met Aleron's eyes again for a moment as he asked, "Sorry?"
"The duel, My Primus? How are Montano and I to be punished?" asked the duelist.
The Interfector looked back at Aleron and stayed there for a long silent moment before finally answering, "You aren't. Neither of you..."
Aleron was instantly shocked to hear that, but then he saw the grin on the Interfector's face once more and something clicked in his mind. He had spent so many years beside the Interfector but realized in that moment how little of him he actually knew. Despite all the titles and responsibilities the Interfector was in charge of, Aleron never actually knew the man so much as the commander. The Elite let his personality and principles seep out of his centurion's garb and Aleron had no idea what to even make of that for so long. The duelist was long past the days of punishment in the style he'd grown up knowing about that he realized in that moment he had a "Friend" in his commander. Still, there was something else that was pressing, but the idea of what he was to the Interfector cemented itself after Aleron managed to croak out;
"My Primus isn't mad about the chariot ordeal?"
As Aleron wondered what that "Something else" was about the Interfector, the Elite replied with another soft grin as he looked back into the fire, "Nope. If anything I should thank you for that since it gave me a reason to leave that meeting with Caesar..."
Aleron contemplated the meaning of the Interfector's words in general before he went on, "... You and Montano's little battle got me out of one of the most uncomfortable meetings I've ever had with him. There was talk about diverting our force to the eastern border to prepare for a possible offensive into Brotherhood territory. I know he'll come to understand that Denver must be destroyed first, but the losses on this front are almost already too much for the moment without opening up yet another conflict without a breather. It was best that I was called away. Might've even saved the Legion if I wasn't there to answer any more questions about the status of our reserve pools. That number is not who's available in the territories, it's who's left in it..."
Aleron again continued wondering the meaning of the words he was hearing and how to understand them in a way that would lead to future Legion victories when the Interfector said it, "... Just because we're on a winning streak, that doesn't mean it will stay that way, especially within these styles of victory..." He met Aleron's eyes once more and added, "Caesar is a smart man, so I'm sure he understands that, but it's easy for victory and success to cloud someone's judgement or rid them of caution... That's what men like you and I are for though, right Aleron?"
The Elite saw Aleron break from his concentration. Aleron then agreed with his commander and friend, still chewing on those words as he said, "Of course, Primus. May I ask what this means for the present?"
The Interfector saw the light in Aleron's eyes, knowing some of his own actions and outlooks were finally beginning to blossom in the mind of his subordinate. The Elite answered the question plainly, catching his own glimpse of an unknown spirit in Aleron's eye before the words left;
"What this means is that we continue the march. Denver and these "Hangdogs" will fall in a matter of weeks. Where Caesar wants to go next will have to wait until afterward. Caesar will triumph, but you and I will carry out one order at a time..."
He paused, trying to better figure out that look behind Aleron's eye. He thought he'd found it before resuming, "... So, our force will join this Lanius or Carnifex in Denver, lay siege for however long it takes to win in a decisive manner, and hopefully forces in the Meat Grinder come to understand that getting your entire force destroyed doesn't bring honor to Caesar, it throws the Legion's future in the dumpster... I don't know if you heard by the way, but I replenished Montano's unit. We're going to need veteran commanders like him familiar with siegework construction.-"
At that, the Elite understood the question and spirit in Aleron's mind, it was the fire of two conflicting ideas: The idea of Caesar's victories vs the Legion's future, a struggle personified by Montano, a man seeming to stand against the Legion future in favor of the other. Aleron, believing he was finally coming to understand the motives and actions of the Interfector, couldn't understand why his Primus would assist a man like that who apparently stands in the way of the future that the Murderer of Phoenix stood for;
"My Lord, I fail to understand the reason you would aid that man who continuously dishonors your position and subsequently mine. A man willing to throw away the Legion's future as you say by wasteful tactics and-"
Aleron was cut short by another raise of the Interfector's hand, standing there silently for a long moment. The Interfector could see what he'd always seen in Aleron's soul, pure dedication to the thing he himself stood for. Though Aleron didn't know it, Aleron was always dedicated to the Legion itself rather than Caesar directly and the Elite wondered if that was why he took a shine to the fanatic in the first place. Aleron was the most procedure and detail oriented soldier he'd ever known, in a nation and army that was moving more and more towards the savage victories that unwittingly put Caesar's creation in jeopardy. The Elite could see that Aleron's supreme dedication to his unknown disposition manifested in conflict with Montano who seemed to embody the contrary of that devout soul. In the silence, the Interfector knew that they were all Legion, and briefly marveled at how it was possible for two minds to take different paths of thought when every masked soldier was so focused on a singular but dual idea: "Caesar's : Legion." Subtle deviations in thought turned out to not be so subtle when it created situations like the perpetual duels of Aleron and Montano. This idea of two similar but very different minds reminded the Elite of a philosophy he'd recently heard from the Emperor they all bowed to. After so long in thought the Interfector spoke to his subordinate;
"I heard a unique idea from Lord Caesar about something called 'Hegelian dialectics.' Thesis and Antithesis. Victory in the present is needed even for that future people like me and Graham have in mind. With a simultaneous Colorado Campaign and Brotherhood Campaign on the verge of turning everything Caesar created into a nomadic war band, It is only inevitable that the Legion's victories and the Legion's future meet and 'Synthesize' into something new. It is hopeful that this 'Something new' is what enables that reunion with the west he so desires..."
The Elite saw the look on Aleron's face who had no idea what "The west" was, but the Interfector realized he was on the verge of disclosing information he was not authorized to share. In effort to clarify the reason that all soldiers under the Bull must cooperate in this period of Caesar's reign, he was about to share more than he was allowed to, more than he knew, more than he could say without delivering possible falsehoods. In the end, the Elite decided that perhaps it was best that things didn't need to be explained. With the two about to exchange types of consciousness, the Interfector decided it was best to maintain focus on the present, especially when Caesar was the only one who volunteered to be burdened by contemplation about the future's particulars.
Finally, the Elite said, "... One step at a time, Aleron. All that needs to be said is that the Legion is at the height of power, and though a fall of any type is nowhere in sight, commanders like you and Montano are more than needed. I expect peace from both you and him when we reach Denver. There are plenty of profligate tribals that need destruction... Wherever the post-Denver synthesis leads us, I can assure you there will be no shortage of wars and battles..."
Aleron gave a silent nod, accepting the will of his commander as the Elite concluded;
"... I should mention lastly, since I'm certain there's nothing I can do to prevent you and Montano from fighting again in some way or another, aside from death, I'll tell you very kindly what I told Montano 20 minutes ago: 'Do not destroy Legion equipment like that again or I'll chain you both to chariots and have them drive in opposite directions.' Denver will fall, but further damage to Caesar's and Legion equipment will result in your ripping in half. Sound fair?"
"Of course, My Primus" replied Aleron to his commander and friend's serious statement.
The Elite widened the soft grin on his face and patted Aleron's leg. The two stood and emerged from the tent to better oversee the camp's pack up. An hour later, Aleron took his place behind the Interfector who ordered the march, and Montano chuckled to himself from the back of the Interfector's assigned chariot. The smoke cloud on the horizon marked the soon to be destroyed city of Denver and inched closer and closer as the minutes turned into hours.
A/N: 7,000 degrees Fahrenheit is not only the minimum average temperature of thermic lances, but it's the temperature at which rage boils in in the veins... Not really, just thought that'd be a cool sentence I couldn't work into the story. Also, forgive me if the conversation between Aleron and the Interfector was a tad confusing. It should all make sense later ;) Thanks for reading :D