When You Know You're the Bad Guy
*Longest Chapter in the story... I think you'll understand why as you read.*
Mid October 2276
There at the Interfector's encampment in northwestern Arizona, Aleron stood atop a small cliff looking out at the sentry posts and watchtowers keeping eye on the north. Aleron's eyes followed the decayed old road north winding around the distant rock formations and ending at the far off collapsed section where nearly 50 slaves were continuing their excavation work. He wished that stealth wasn't a priority because the use of dynamite would've completed this entire project weeks ago. His mind went to thoughts about the enumerable paths in the cliffs they'd uncovered that were used by the rangers and briefly wished the Legion could use those since the last skirmish against the rangers was nearing two weeks ago. As silent as those paths have been and despite how useful they'd been for explorer reconnaissance groups, he knew it was still likely that the rangers would be brought back to the region if there was too much attention brought to them by centuries filing through them towards their newly disclosed target. No, the roads had to be cleared, as slow as the effort was. The roads offered ample room for logistics and supply forces to supplement the coming march, something the narrow and dangerous cliff passes prevented.
The sun had just began to lower from it's highest point, and the heat of northern Arizona was beating down on him like never before despite the time of year as he continued to survey the distant slaves' progress. Finally, one of the runners stepped up to him, greeted him with a salute that Aleron wordlessly returned, and told Aleron about the completion of the objective as a folded paper was placed in Aleron's hand. The runner was dismissed, and Aleron then turned back to the Interfector's command tent, walking back to see if his Primus needed anything and report the recent accomplishment of that minor errand.
Passing the two veterans by the entry flap, Aleron entered to see his Primus sitting at the fold out table desk before the standard fire pit scribbling away on a stack of papers, drafting new orders, taking inventories, and noting progress on the cliffs. In the corner of the room beside his cot and belongings was Gabriella sitting beside Amethyst who had the toddler named Abel in her arms. The two slaves looked up at Aleron's entry and the Elite continued what he was doing. Stepping before the desk, Aleron gave his salute and the slaves resumed what they were doing as Aleron said;
"Ave, Primus. Your investigation has been completed."
Aleron extended the letter slightly and without looking up from what he was doing, the Interfector continued writing as he said, "Place it on the stack here, please and thank you."
Aleron placed the folded paper on the stack of documents and waited there silently for several seconds, hearing the pen continuously move across the paper. He hadn't been given the telepathic directive to take a seat so he knew the Elite was almost done. Aleron continued to stare at the wall above the Interfector's unprotected head and heard that pen move quicker and quicker, an indication that the Elite was about to sign. The Elite's pen gave the distinctive sound it made whenever he was making his signature, and at the sound of that final tap, Aleron was instructed to meet the face of his Primus as the Interfector looked up and leaned back, "I could go for a break right now."
Aleron remained silent but nodded in acknowledgement and the Elite stood from the table, taking the folded letter with him as he moved towards the women by Aleron's cot. The women looked up at the Elite's approach and watched him as he sat beside Amethyst there on the floor. The Interfector gestured for the child scarcely more than two, and took the boy in his arms silently whispering things as Amethyst looked to him lovingly. Aleron approached the circle where the slaves and his Primus were sitting and was then ordered to take a seat as well. He did so, not used to sitting on the ground outside of the field, and was asked in an "Inside voice" as the Elite continued rocking the child;
"What was the outcome of that investigation?"
Aleron said how the details were scarce and that details were likely in the folded paper. Struggling to unfold the letter with the child in his arms, he offered the letter back to Aleron with his free hand. Aleron took it and read the thing as he'd been known to do. Without reading any more than what was absolutely necessary, Aleron was something of a "speed reader", and learned all that was in the letter within less than a couple seconds. Aleron said;
"It's as we expected, but there's little else to do. Nothing further could be ascertained about the possible homosexuality of Centurion Clementius. It is reported that the slave suspect is no longer with the 58th Century, and Clementius reported to have killed the suspected slave before a true interrogation could be conducted. This report is corroborated by sentries at watchpost 12B on peak 89 who said the centurion was seen escorting the slave into the unwatched ravine down to the Colorado two nights ago. The same sentries said that only the centurion returned from that trip apparently limping from some kind of injury. When asked about this, Centurion Clementius said that the slave fought back before being put down and explained his absence of staff during the execution was due to his wish to not garner any suspicion from the slave about his impending doom. When asked about the reason for executing the slave, he reported it being for repeatedly malingering during duties at the road excavation. Centurion Clementius appears completely unaware of the investigation into his activities."
When Aleron finished with the report, the Interfector looked up to meet him as he continued to rock the young Abel and said softly with a smirk, "I'll bet Clementius was tipped off about the investigation somehow and tried to get rid of the evidence..." He let loose a light chuckle before speaking his thoughts aloud, "... Even if the slave wasn't executed, I wouldn't be too surprised if Clementius decided to set his partner free. Perhaps I'll ask the men at watchpost 13A if they saw any figures trying to cross the Colorado a few nights back. They should have had a better view of that stretch to the Colorado... One way or another, it would still appear that the issue sorted itself out. Consider this matter ended."
Aleron nodded, placing the paper in the pouch on his left breastplate and all of them there on the ground remained silent for a long while. The Interfector turned back to his son's face and resumed whispering things to the child as Aleron began considering how else to assist his Primus, occasionally noticing Gabriella shifting her gaze between the Interfector' child and himself. Aleron would have reprimanded her for ocularly asking that question, "Where's my child, Master Aleron?" if he wasn't too caught in his own head about other means of assisting his Primus in this long waiting game.
After another long silence, the Elite looked back up to Aleron saying, "Still thinking about joining the Praetorians, Aleron?"
Aleron hadn't been thinking about that at the time he was asked that question. So, Aleron chalked the question up to another means of "small talk" that the Interfector enjoyed on occasion. Aleron replied honestly, "Not at this moment, Lord Interfector. I still consider it some nights when not focused on other matters however."
The Elite nodded with a smile, completely aware of the way Aleron thought, and added, "I hear Lucius became the head of the guard a few weeks back. I always liked dealing with him, so I'm sure I could get you a good bit of intel on who's weakest... or strongest if you ever decide you want to do that."
Aleron appreciated that and would've smiled if smiling wasn't for the weak, or for men of exceptional brilliance, renown, and heroism like his Primus. Instead, Aleron replied directly, "That would be most appreciated, My Primus. I may ask for such a favor pending the outcome of our current directives."
Immediately, Lord Interfector said, "Speaking of, you receive any intel on that Twisted Hairs frumantarius I like? Could use a guy like that for scouting up ahead."
Aleron was aware of the man his Primus was talking about, but was also briefly shocked that the Elite would mention the name "Twisted Hairs" since they learned what happened to them in a report they received not more than two weeks prior. Then it occurred to him that the report lacked information about whether or not that name was to be erased completely from future discussions. In such cases, that usually meant that the name wasn't outlawed but merely frowned upon in Legion terms. The same thought occurred to the Elite as well and despite seeing that specific frumantarius' name in countless scouting reports and direct interactions over the years, neither man could remember it for the life of them. Still, the mentioned spy was one they were well familiar with, and when both concluded that "the Twisted Hairs frumantarius" was as good a name as they could get, Aleron replied;
"I believe he was called to the Flagstaff Palatii a while back for the meeting there."
The Interfector kissed the child on the forehead and handed him back to Amethyst who eagerly accepted him. The Elite then stretched his legs out and adjusted in his place after holding the child firmly for so long before saying to Aleron, "That's right. Think he was one of the ones sent west after that meeting..."
He paused and a look of concern and contemplation grew across his face before he resumed, "... Probably good for him to get away for a while, given all that happened to his home tribe a couple months back... Sorta wish I didn't give him a respite period after reporting this 'Hoover Dam' place to Caesar. I certainly would have kept him close if I knew Caesar was going to do that... Can't imagine having to watch that while you're home on break..."
The Elite gave one more long pause before concluding, "... Hope he knows that wasn't my intention and doesn't hold it against me personally."
The Interfector was then quiet with his thoughts and Aleron remembered the day he heard about the mass betrayal of the auxilia sometime before hearing about the Twisted Hairs fate. At the time, the man was still very busy with the work being done in this region, but Aleron saw a darkness in the man's face that lingered for a long time. The Elite always was a big advocate for the auxilia, and while Aleron still internally celebrated their formal integration into the Legion ranks proper, the Interfector was piecing together possible reasons why he was sent to this area in the first place. Regardless of what the Elite would have done after hearing Caesar's order of fate, by the time the news reached the Interfector, the mourning period had passed. What's done was done, or already too in motion to stop, and the Elite focused on the task ahead while that darkness stayed on his countenance for many days after.
Aleron saw the revival of that troubling situation on his Lord's face and tried to ease the Interfector's apparent concern, "He shouldn't hold anything against his commander, Primus. He's been an exceptional asset to Lord Caesar as well as yourself for many years..." When Aleron noticed that did little to halt the Elite's droll feeling, Aleron added, "If anything, he won't think too highly of his brother in the frumantarii, Vulpes."
The Interfector's face lightened up slightly, "Probably. That guy 'Vulpes' always was something else. Did I ever tell you he used to go by -?..."
The Elite stopped himself and looked towards the entrance. All of them on the floor were silent and looked to the Interfector, curious about the interruption. There in the silence and just beyond the tent flap, they could all hear the muffled sounds of a large force marching. Upon making sense of the noise, the Interfector stood himself up with the words, "Already? We weren't expecting them for another week."
Aleron joined his Primus and together they marched to the entrance, exited the tent, and emerged to the sight of a large force entering the encampment. What looked like an estimated five centuries had arrived in the already sprawling camp and began setting up. Before taking any more notice of the massive arrival, their attention was quickly diverted to the man in jeans, a pair of boots, and a white shirt beneath a black old world tactical vest surrounded by twelve praetorians in the camp's center. The Elite and Aleron stepped up to the man immediately identified by the two as Legatus Graham as he was dusting himself off. When the pair was close enough, they dropped to their knees at the same time and each gave a salute as the Elite spoke, "My Legate, pardon the lack of preparation for your arrival-"
The two met the sunken but naturally fiery eyes of the man with slicked-back dark grey hair atop his head as the simple words, "Rise, both of you" came from the second most powerful man in the Legion.
Aleron and the Elite stood and a sad smile stretched across the Legate's face as he added, "No need to worry, Lord Interfector. I came here with this cohort on a separate matter. Still, the force I was truly charged with has been making excellent time and should be here sooner than anticipated as well."
The Elite of Phoenix was about to ask about this "separate matter" that required a full strength cohort, but Legate Graham's back was already turned to his praetorian staff who was ordered to stay put and oversee the encampment duties. When the Legatus Imperialis turned back around, Graham's face said he would answer any questions soon. Accompanying this was the silent order for Aleron and the Elite to follow.
Legate Graham led the two back into the Elite's personal tent and upon seeing who entered, both of the slave women stood in an instant. Amethyst momentarily panicked about whether or not she should set the young Abel down or keep him in her arms before the presence of the Legate, but before she could determine one or the other, Graham was right in front of her. Both Amethyst and Gabriella were silent and completely terrified of the powerful man before them, but Legate Graham's face said anything but terror. His eyes looked gently at the young boy, his face covered in deep lines from two decades of constant stress and war. Amethyst no longer needed to rock the child who stared quietly at the Legate since her arms were still trembling despite knowing what the Legate was like from prior encounters. Finally, the Legate said softly, barely able to be heard by either Aleron or the Elite;
"This must be the young 'Abel' you mentioned."
The Elite replied from his distant place near the entryway, "Yes, My Legatus."
The Legate briefly looked to the Elite and then back to the boy adding again softly, "Such a fine child... Been a long time since I've seen innocence like him."
The Interfector wondered how or if he should respond until the Legate met the eyes of Amethyst and then Gabriella, "Ladies, would you care to leave us for now..." He was about to explain why but remembered how he didn't need to at the sight of their immediate nods and soft replies.
As the women filed towards the entrance with the boy, the Elite instructed them to use Aleron's tent that he hadn't been using and looked to the Legate who turned to the commanders with a stern countenance that somehow said something else... Something unexpectedly uncertain. Something that slightly resembled some sort of tragedy or even defeat mixed with what overtly looked like tremendous exhaustion.
This expression couldn't be figured by either man, but before Aleron or the Elite could consider it much further, Legate Graham gestured towards the Interfector's seat at the desk and asked softly, "May I take your spot, Lord Interfector?"
Immediately, the Elite said, "By all means" and was quietly instructed to take a seat. Aleron was also ordered to join his Primus on the other side of the table and when both were situated, Graham met the eyes of the Elite with the permission to drop his Legion demeanor. Aleron was incapable of this, so he remained silent as his Primus said semi-jovially, "How on earth have you been, Graham? Before you were put on the march, last I heard, you were killed by a tribal sharpshooter or something out in Utah."
Graham's face brightened up for the slightest second before his face fell back to its rather stressed state as he said, "Suspected rangers actually."
The Elite's face fell to a gloomy one as well as he replied, "That far out huh? We've beaten them back here in Arizona but I had no idea they've been operating out there too."
Graham said, "Don't worry about it. The assassination didn't take..." He was about to chuckle, but instead resumed, "... This war has been a long time coming Elite of Phoenix."
The Elite nodded, and his expression picked up again as he said, "And that's why you were moved out here. Glad Caesar's letting me join the spearhead..." He paused and another slight grin grew across the Elite's face before he asked the Legate, "You excited? I know I personally have been waiting to take the fight to NCR since I first became an Elite."
"Not as much as you are, I'm certain," said Graham half involved.
The man was more busy trying to pull something out of the leather satchel hanging by his belt. Once accomplished, Graham placed a small stack of folded documents on the table. As Graham began setting out the papers and organizing them into some type of order, the Elite continued to observe the face of Graham. The Legate had always been a stern and calculated man, even when they first met way back in 2261. Since then, however, the Elite had seen Graham only ever so scarcely. Every few years when the two finally met up again, both men had done a lot of aging, Graham seemingly more so than the Interfector. When the Interfector first met Graham, the Legate was scarcely more than 30, had a full head of dark brown hair, and was full of military conviction in every word he spoke. Since then, the Elite had only seen the Legate on a few notable occasions and the lines on his face appeared to get deeper while his flaming eyes sunk lower. That flame still flickered in his eyes even at this point, but now he was over the edge of 50, and years of terrible reputation showed in those same eyes like a pile of bright embers rather than a roaring inferno. Aleron continued to avert his gaze from the Legate's face until instruction, but the relationship between the Elite of Phoenix and Legate Graham allowed the Elite to study the face even further, clearly able to notice that particular something that was amiss. Finally, Legate Graham had organized all the papers accordingly on the desk, but just before he could resume, the Elite asked;
"You seem different, My Legate. Is everything alright?"
Graham let the question linger as he double-checked the documents' order before saying sternly to the papers, "Yes. I just have a lot on my mind..."
Though the Elite didn't ask anything else, Legate Graham could feel that his answer didn't answer the question. After a moment he added again refusing to make eye contact, "... Before moving down here, I was still working with the tribes of eastern Utah..." He paused once more before again saying to the papers, "... Something happened..."
The Elite thought maybe it was the assassination attempt he was referring to, but was told by the Legate's face that wasn't it. Because of this, the Elite asked plainly, "What was it?"
Legate Graham was done setting out the papers, but instead of looking up to the Elite, Graham looked up to Aleron who was still looking next to the face of the Legate. Lord Interfector saw what looked like an "apologetic" expression on the Legate's glance at Aleron before looking back down at the papers and saying, "Doesn't matter..."
Accompanying that was the internal order to leave it at that for the moment before Graham looked up to meet the Interfector, adding, "... I'm here to give you a new task, Lord Interfector."
The Elite internally acknowledged and the Legate went on pointing to each relevant paper as he spoke. "You'll still be fighting NCR, but Caesar wants you to cut their throat in the east..."
Pointing to the maps, Graham continued as the Elite followed along with his eyes, "... The place is a settlement in Death Valley consisting of two old-world towns called 'Hopeville' and 'Ashton', referred to by some of the locals as "The Divide." Several members of the Frumantarii are working there now and report the settlement as a large supply line between the Mojave and California. You are to take the Cohort I brought with me today and invade the two towns. Your assignment is to erase opposition and hold your ground for a maximum of two months after arrival while we take the Dam and secure Vegas. You will be getting reinforcements after the Dam falls, but holding that route directly from the West to Vegas is paramount... I won't lie when I say this will be a dangerous assignment. It isn't often that Cohorts have to operate independently for so long, but you are being sent because Caesar knows you have a way with the locals of any region you operate. Silencing the NCR and the blocking of that route is a must, so use your resources and keep the populace on your side enough to prevent external intervention. Most people of the West have no interaction with our forces so it's best any people encountered know little about the kind of ruthlessness of other Legion commanders. That said, just do what you do best: Cut down any opposition, and leave the rest alone..."
The two commanders met eyes again and the Elite internally agreed while a quick glance at the map gave birth to a question that was seen on the Interfector's face. Lord Interfector asked about the route to get there since it appeared as though there were plenty of obstacles in the way and given the shaded areas marking NCR territory in the Mojave. The means of getting so far behind their lines with such a sizable force looked nearly impossible. Legate Graham sought to address this by mentioning the Frumantarii reports about the region. Pointing at each relevant part of the map, the Legate went on;
"... They say to avoid this stretch here that locals have labeled a dead zone leading to a place known only as "Big Empty." Nobody knows what happens to those who stray too close to the desert plains leading to the mountain itself, but local intel says everything from lack of freshwater availability to the superstitious that isn't worth mentioning. Either way, the region has prevented the construction of NCR supply lines from the north as well, so it's best to avoid the area altogether..."
Going over the technicals of the route, the Interfector found himself questioning the route to reach the Mojave itself. Graham answered that as well as he elaborated on the task's particulars and general notes accompanying each point along the route, "... You should keep your forces disguised as refugees and separate to travel in small groups when necessary. Caesar has ordered attacks along southern Utah to create causation for a refugee crisis and distract the rangers and border guards along the northern Mojave territory. It should also be noted that contact has been made already with a number of the local Mojave raiders, so feel free to travel through their territory as needed. However, the 'Great Khans' have recently suffered a terrible defeat against NCR forces, so avoid this region as much as possible. NCR forces are sure to be crawling all over this section of the route for the foreseeable future, but as I said, travel in small groups as you see fit to avoid suspicion..."
The Elite gave the appropriate acknowledgments and listened intently as the Legate continued, "... The trip around the canyon and Mojave territory shouldn't take more than two months, and once you and the cohort arrive at the Pyramid Peak rally point, I leave the dealing of NCR's Death Valley supply line to you... There's still plenty to do in preparation for our assault on Hoover Dam, so you'll have ample time to deal with this accordingly. Although, I'll expect your primary objective to be done before the end of the first month of 77. You'll again be operating independently until the Dam is secure, but the Frumantarii in the region will be at your disposal and that route to the Mojave must be eliminated one way or another before our assault. I'll say once more that the forces I brought today are yours, so make your plans, study my orders, and I'll expect you to set out by the end of the week in order to keep our timetable."
At that, the Legate was done, and the Elite was still going over a number of the documents on the table for several silent seconds afterward. Finally, when the Elite had understood all he needed to and knowing that he would have plenty of time to study along the way, Lord Interfector inhaled deeply as he reclined back in the chair. To signal his readiness for his role in this grand invasion of the West, Lord Interfector stretched his legs out once more and turned his head to Aleron as he said;
"Hear that, Aleron? Let's get packing."
Immediately, Aleron began to stand when suddenly he was halted mid-rise by the Legate, "Actually, hold that thought, Elite."
Aleron lingered in place for a moment before sitting back down slowly at the Legate's momentary silence. When Aleron was seated, Legate Graham looked to the Elite and said, "Lord Interfector, I would like to ask your permission to have Aleron temporarily reassigned to my command for assistance at the Dam."
Lord Interfector was hesitant for a moment at the thought of losing his right hand even temporarily, but knew it was impossible for him to say "no" to the Legion's Legatus Imperialis regardless of his personal relationship with the man. So, the Elite said to Graham, "You don't need 'permission' from me, My Legate."
Studying the Elite's expression and knowing how close the two were, Legate Graham said concerningly, "You aren't too sure, are you? Lord Interfector?"
"It's not that," said the Elite simply before Legate Graham added;
"The Legion and the staff under my oncoming forces... 'lacks'... in manners of efficiency, veterancy, and combat effectiveness in the way that you speak so highly about regarding Aleron..." The Legate again paused, seeing the misfortune in the Elite's face at the idea of losing Aleron. Finally, Legate Graham added, "Tell you what, I'll let you decide."
Not feeling it was his place, the Elite concluded that it wasn't his decision to make, not even the Legate's, but Aleron's decision. So, being one of the last remaining commanders of this caliber in the Legion, the Elite of Phoenix made his decision by asking Aleron, "Aleron? Is joining Legate Graham agreeable to you?"
Knowing what he was doing by asking Aleron to make the decision, Lord Interfector wasn't all that surprised when Aleron turned to meet the face of his Primus for so many years with the words, "Anything my Legatus desires of me."
For the briefest moment, Lord Interfector felt like his loyal dog and best friend of many years had just sided with the stranger holding a treat, but the feeling vanished as quick as it came before the Legate said, "Excellent, your transfer to my command is much appreciated, Centurion Aleron..."
Aleron was about to reply appropriately but the Elite was quicker with a response when he said idly, "Hate to lose him, Graham, but may he serve you well..." He paused again, and Graham nodded at the Elite with a face of concern, allowing the Elite to add, "... I'd also appreciate his return to me at this Death Valley place when you send the backup, My Legate."
Legate Graham nodded understandingly in agreement to the request and his face fell again to that unusual expression. The Elite noticed this revival of tragedy in the Legate's face and the look of defeat appeared even deeper in the lines on Graham's face. For the faintest second, Graham's face gave the Elite a vague premonition that it was indeed best for Aleron to accompany him instead of the Elite. This expression emblazoned on the Legate's face once more gave rise to the original question about his demeanor, and that question constructed itself in the Elite's mind further when the glance he gave Aleron earlier finally made sense. The silence after the transfer continued until the Elite formulated the question, the Legate saw this, and both of them knew that the business had concluded for now. Both men internally landed on the same issue that was needing address and the Legate's next words after the long silence were to Aleron;
"Centurion Aleron, could you please give us a minute."
Aleron acknowledged his first order received under the Legate's formal command by standing up, saluting the two, and stating "True to Caesar" for both men who only nodded in recognition of the dismissal. Both the Elite and Legatus Imperialis continued to stare at one another silently, each with their own questions on their minds as Aleron exited the tent and took his place on a small bench next to the command tent's wall facing his personal tent. Aleron looked through the open mouth of his personal tent, watching the two slave women joyfully playing with the young boy there on the ground as he thought about his future service to the Legate.
Legate Graham and the Elite were silent for a long time after Aleron's departure as some particular thought neither man could figure was weighing on both of them. The inability to grasp or understand what that thought was nearly infuriated both men, but Lord Interfector had the most questions in his mind, and since he couldn't understand that unknown thought, he decided to seek answers for those regarding the man before him. Lord Interfector finally ended the silence by asking softly;
"What exactly happened in Utah, Graham?"
The Legate looked up and into the eyes of the Elite, staying silent again for several seconds before answering softly, "... I've just done a lot of thinking lately. Probably for the first time in a long time..." He paused to look even deeper at the man across the table.
Legate Graham had always liked the Interfector, and though he had only seen him so few times over the many years, that admiration grew. He honestly didn't expect the Elite to survive too long after the fall of Phoenix, and seeing constant assurances of his survivability over the years made him admire the name "Interfector" more and more while at the same time, it sickened him. Graham had known the man, even if briefly before he became the "Interfector of Phoenix" and their relationship was a strange one. Still, Legate Graham knew who the Interfector was before the title, and even though he was one of few living Legion commanders that had memorable life before Legion servitude, Graham's mind was troubled by something even a man like the Elite probably couldn't even begin to comprehend... Much of this was because of his own role in creating the Elite before him. Graham had been alone in the world for so long, surrounded by men who didn't know life before the Legion, and being surrounded by men so alien to yourself creates a kind of isolation that is unbearable when compared with a life that was. None of this feeling was relieved over the years he'd spent in eastern Utah, teaching the tribals of the land ruthless warfare, especially when he remembered earlier years of his life spent in the same land for very different reasons. Looking at the legitimate concern in the Interfector's gaze, he remembered what was in store for himself and all those dreams in the wilderness of Utah, seeing the embodiment of error after error in the real sympathy within the Murderer of Phoenix's eyes.
Constantly getting lost and losing each battle of the mental war within, Graham was too tired to keep fighting. Regardless of the Elite's ability to truly understand the types of wars he was fighting regularly, Graham met the eyes of his creation across the table saying in a dead manner and uncaring of the words he himself spoke, "... I just feel I've let someone very important to me down..."
The look of tired death appeared on Graham's face even more as the words, "... He knows what I've done and all the mistakes I've ever made are finally, after so long, catching up," crept out his mouth in an exhausted manner.
Legate Graham continued staring past the Elite looking like he was near death as the embers in those eyes got even dimmer. The Elite's face never changed, he looked at the Legate's tired shell deeply concerned and worried. Recalling times he'd seen the Legate's wrath in full fury, he believed every story he heard about the Legate standing over piles of burning corpses across Arizona and New Mexico. Lord Interfector couldn't believe any of those stories any more when he looked at the half-dead man across the table and was more worried for the man than he knew how to handle. Finally, the Elite asked hesitantly;
"Was this important man, Caesar?"
Another burst of flames erupted in the Legate's eyes despite no change in his statue-like composure. The Legate shook his head slightly as the words, "No, not him..." slid from his mouth.
The Elite wondered what else to ask but the Legate's words said there was something else he needed to say. Both remained quiet once more until the flames in Graham's eyes cooled back down to embers. Finally, the Legate ended his thousand-yard stare and locked eyes with the Elite as he resumed in his dead way, "... I know we don't talk much these days, but I know you're different from other commanders..."
The type of men they were was an even bigger means of relationship that both had bonded over during the years of isolated contact. The Elite thought about this fact as Legate Graham went on, "... You remember things before Caesar. I don't need to explain what we are to you. You and I aren't indoctrinated into believing something false... Guys like us, we know we're the bad guys."
For another silent moment, Lord Interfector was shocked by the Legate's words. The shock wasn't from the accusation but from the reminder of something he'd long repressed. Yes, the Interfector knew he was a bad guy, but he'd spent years keeping himself busy with service to Caesar and attempting to personally indoctrinate himself into believing the nobility of his position. This attempt worked in the day-to-day, but he did in fact naturally have a demeanor completely contrary to the typical servant of Caesar in the way he dealt with everyone officer, slave, and otherwise. On the many occasions that being good got in the way of service, he was more than willing to crush that goodness with the hammer of servitude, absolving himself of blame, and allowing him to sleep, while completely avoiding the overall sum of his characterization saying: he was a bad guy.
Feeling the same sense of defeat at the reminder of his true being, the Elite said in his own exhausted way, "Yeah, I know we're the bad guys... But that's all there is in this world, just bad..."
Seeing no change in the Legate's state, the Interfector resumed the justification he'd used nearly every day over the years, "... Might as well be the worst..." He paused again and chuckled to himself in that dead way as he internally acknowledged what he actually was despite his conflicting heart, "... It's been a few years, but I used to try my best to be a good man in this bad world, but that don't mean much in a system that's pure bad."
Both stuck in their own heads, Lord Interfector contemplated his life, who he was, where he'd been, where he ended up, and all he'd done. His mind ran through every wicked deed, especially the big one that gave him his current name. That thought still disgusted him, but at the same time, he wouldn't have traded it for the world. He'd accepted what this world was and accepted who he was destined to be based on the life he lived. Lord Interfector's thoughts were interrupted when he caught the gaze of Graham who rested his elbows on his knees as he looked at the Elite almost bursting at the seams in tremendous sorrow;
"I'm so sorry I brought you into this, Drifter."
The fire was completely gone from the Legate's eyes and the Elite was left in shock at that address. Something was smacked back to life in him as he choked out, "... Nobody's called me that in a long time, Graham..." As Lord Interfector looked at the guilt-ridden thing before him that didn't resemble Caesar's second in the slightest, he asked in a stutter, too bewildered by the display and thoughts in his mind, "What's come over you?"
Legate Graham sunk lower in his place as he stared into the Interfector's eyes, looking even more like a dead man than before as he said, "I think what I did with you, way back then, was probably one of the worst things I've ever done... You were such a good man who could've done so much good, but I took that and destroyed it."
Lord Interfector didn't know how to handle the shell of a man he so respected or the revival of these memories he regularly justified or attempted to forget. Immediately, he replied assuredly, resigned to what he knew he was, "You didn't do anything wrong, Graham. I know I was born bad and..." He stopped, thinking again about those horrible days in his earlier years and what he'd done leading up to the Legion. "... I would've done something equally bad even if you never approached me with that offer."
Despite the Legate's unchanging expression, the fire erupted in his eyes again as something that looked like a lone tear fell, making him scoff and reply, "I'm afraid I don't believe that for one second. I can't shake that I'm personally responsible for what I turned you into..."
The Interfector felt the concern in his own face and deeply felt for the Legate's personal guilt, but the Interfector knew that who he became was no fault of Legate Graham. In an attempt to relieve some of the burden Graham was so obviously carrying, Lord Interfector thought about a particular instance where he realized what he'd always been. He explained to Graham as his own mental war raged in his mind;
"Don't believe me?..." Lord Interfector paused, unsure whether he was trying to convince himself or Graham who he was. Lord Interfector threw that thought out and went on regardless of any premise;
"... It was over a decade ago, and I was still new to my Praetorship at Circle Junction when I knew for sure you had no role in what I did at Phoenix... I was surveying the Arizona slave quarter going to oversee some task, I forget what exactly. But, it must have been the shift change because I remember a large crowd in front of one of the forge buildings. Every slave on the street will stop in their place and bow at the approach of myself and my guard... and I remember everyone did so that particular day, all except one... One man stood while everyone else was bowing, and apparently, he recognized me because he called out, 'Lord Interfector!' My attention turned, and before one of the street patrols could reach him through the crowd and make him bow, he shouted, 'Fuck you, you piece of shit, you destroyed my home and killed my family...' I had the man brought before me in chains there on the street. There I asked calmly if he was just using me as an outlet for some other commander, but he made it clear that he was from Phoenix and spat on me, saying I was personally responsible... I didn't feel bad, ashamed, or even angry about what I did or how he reacted. I merely resumed my errand, having him follow along in chains until I was done with my business in the slave quarter. When I returned to the Interior Fortress, I said no other words but had him chained to a street lamp there in the plaza... He was angry at first as the hours turned into days, and slowly he starved while water was given to keep him alive enough for starvation to be the cause of death. As time went on, his anger disappeared and he would eventually cry and scream and beg for me to release him as I went about my daily business. It must have been day six or seven or so when he was too weak to stand. I remember stopping one day on return to my residence and I remember marveling at how he begged and begged for me to let him go, saying he would do anything, that he was sorry for what he said, and that he would take it all back... I learned what I was, what've always been when I knelt down to him and said, 'you weren't there to save my family, so why the fuck should I have saved yours?'... he died chained to that pole two days later and..."
Lord Interfector paused for a long time, seeing the story imprint itself in Graham's mind. Though a tear nearly escaped from the Interfector's eyes at the remembrance of how horrible he was and truly is, he was willing to acknowledge it as he let loose a dead chuckle before saying desperately, "Isn't that the pettiest thing you ever heard?..."
Graham stared at the Interfector whose recollection placed an enormous terror on his mind. Upon looking back into Graham's face, he saw the Legate facing the guilt and terror eating his mind right alongside him. This understanding and sympathy he was hoping Graham would eradicate with a statement of deserving made no sense when the Legate continued emanating his concern for the man who so clearly didn't deserve it. Finally, the Elite managed to stutter, still defeated and resigned to the horror;
"... It's really strange when you know you're the bad guy... and you don't really see a way or even want to be anything else anymore." He paused again, more dead than Graham after that release, seeing the Legate again in his deep concern and understanding.
After the story and after a long enough silence, the whole thing did little to erase the Legate's guilt about his role even in the story presented. In fact, the Elite's story of cruelty only further weighed on the feeling of guilt in his mind. The Elite felt as though he'd done a service by seemingly absolving Graham of any responsibility, but Graham's face sunk even more when, even after such a story, and even after the Interfector's reversion back to his wicked self-acceptance, Graham said;
"Back at the gas station, I could have shown you another way to handle your tragedies and this life. A true way to thank you for saving me. But I didn't and now, your story is even more proof that I am to blame. For that, I cannot forgive myself. One mistake after another, all in the name of duty or loyalty, but all... meaningless..."
The Interfector was shocked to hear that, but still accepted the fate in how he turned out. Lord Interfector asked, "I think you should forgive yourself, Graham. I'm my own man, a man that can let nobody down but myself-..."
He stopped, seeing once more the terrible plague on Graham's face, and wondered why he would blame himself so harshly for the things he'd done, and why exactly it was weighing on him now? Lord Interfector's mind thought back through every word the Legate said and saw that the tremendous guilt in his mind stemmed from letting someone not Caesar down. Caesar, the convenient justification for everything malicious Caesar's legionaries had ever done, apparently did nothing to prevent the all-out decay and breakdown of the Legate here. What on earth could Graham had done to cause such a breakdown when Caesar was the justification for this world of bad. Apparently, Caesar wasn't enough to halt what was happening to Graham, and whoever he truly let down, that person's wrath manifested unlike Caesar's. Where Caesar's wrath beheaded whole towns, burned homes, enslaved the weak, and killed the strong in the furnace of war, the wrath of Graham's "Someone else" psychologically annihilated Caesar's second, a man who was the embodiment of all those atrocities that came with the Bull... A man who was completely defeated in everything but battlefield reputation.
Finally, the Elite asked the question, "... Who's this man you let down?"
Graham did not want to answer that the way expected. Graham had no names to give, only because it was the name he'd been far more terrified and defiant of than Caesar. Lord Interfector himself would not be able to ever understand, but even the thought of the name on his mind made him even more horrified at what he was, what he'd done, what he refused to do, and how far that life had gotten him. After so long in the silence, Graham felt that presence he'd felt so many nights alone in the wilderness, and the horror sank further into his being when he realized He was closer than ever. Graham had no desire to face what he knew was in store for him, but he could deny His impending return no more. So many years of running led to victory at the expense of ultimate defeat, he was not ready for the return, but there was nowhere else to run;
"He's just someone I knew my whole life but someone I spent so many years trying my hardest to run from..."
Lord Interfector already didn't know what to make of Graham's words, but the strain on the Legate's face said that what he was admitting to was so real that it was literally killing him for some sense of liberation, and unbearable pain was brought to his being by confronting the reality of a man's past;
"... He knew me and who I would be while I was in my mother's womb, and loved me anyway, still does... He did a lot for me, paid a price I could in no way earn or make up for, a price I didn't ever deserve, especially now. I took all He'd done for me and all the times I was picked up after so many falls, and turned my back... Been running for so long that, now... Now, after all I've done, all the lives I've destroyed, after so many years, I can't bear to face Him ever again..."
When he paused, the Legate appeared as though he was one more breath away from dying, but still, the man continued breathing, his eyes no longer looking at the Elite but staring straight past him in some sort of trance he clearly wished he hadn't entered.
The next words out of Graham's mouth were, "Why do you persecute me?..." a seeming question that required no answer when made real in its simple utterance. After another silence, the Legate resumed, "... I still can't pinpoint where I went from savior to killer, but there's no more denying what I've done, and it's one thing to go from killer to saved, but redemption for the one who knowingly turned away is unforgivable, even to Him..."
Both men were then silent once more, and the Interfector, though lost in exactly what Graham was referring to, saw the enormous pain behind the fallen man's eyes. Unable to understand much else, but unwittingly knowing more than he knew, Lord Interfector brought Graham's eyes to his own before saying, "I think he'll forgive you if you ask him, since you said he knew who you'd be."
The suggestion was left at that while Graham's exhausted and dead face twisted to one of inconsolable fright as he took in the words and what that suggestion meant. The idea was one he'd heard and felt from that presence in the wilderness, but one he could never bring himself to do when he remembered all he'd done. With images of those dark nights in the presence of the spirit that drew closer and closer, his fright at the Interfector's words made him speak the revelation he tried running further from to even less avail;
"I know He's already left the 99 for me, and I wish He didn't. I don't want to be saved ever again, and that's why I feel Him stronger than ever, but I'm far too ashamed to ever go back. I simply can't. Not after so long..." He stopped, not ready to turn, but ready to succumb to what he'd always known was in store, " ... I think I'm ready though."
Lord Interfector could only ask, "Ready for what?"
Graham broke his trance once more to meet the eyes of the Elite, seeing the same concern on his creation's face that never left. Graham faced the fate he knew that running led to, still unable to beg forgiveness from his someone else, but now ready for it all to be over as he said, "I think I'm just about ready to die. I've been feeling it for a long time, and that presence that's haunted me these recent years is too close now... I still feel the fire, this blind hate inside, but I can't do anything about it despite rediscovering those eyes that have been watching me. I can't stop what I've become, I can't go back, but I also can't take going anymore, so death is the only thing that's next."
The two were silent again for several long minutes. After admitting to the reality of his observed life, and after accepting his wicked life he subconsciously knew was rapidly coming to a close, he sat there unrepentant, ready for the end he knew he deserved but was unwilling to even attempt to rectify. Lord Interfector could not fathom all that was truly on Graham's mind and understood little about what had come over Graham, but he could see the clear evidence of a man who, despite the horrors in his mind, resigned himself to the same conclusion of evil that Lord Interfector had a long time ago. Where one believed his end was imminent for the final conclusion to a bad life, the other's heart remained noble despite complete helplessness in the face of an awful world both helped create. Either way, both men were absolutely exhausted from their shared actions in this world and nation under Caesar that made even the best of intentions a futile effort to counter something so monolithic and awful. Regardless of their personal tragedies, the lives they lived, whether they were good here and bad there, the sum total of their actions or moral dilemmas painted both men as bad under the Bull. Both men accepted this, and both were tired, ready for whatever was next but knowing in their hearts where life under the Bull led from the very beginning.
Finally, the Interfector expressed his thoughts to the broken Legate whose firey eyes began to flicker once more at the acceptance he spoke, "... I think you'll be fine, Graham... But I know what you mean... I think I'm just about ready too after the life I lived... I think I do want to visit my old home in NCR though, before that happens..."
He paused once more, considering everything the two had said since the start of the talk, and how little it all meant in the grand scheme of their lives built on atrocity, neither aware or able to commit the only act needed for true peace and true acceptance of what they'd done, "... I honestly don't think I really care too much about battling NCR anymore. I just want to go home."
The Legate propped himself up from his dead state as the fire grew even more in his eyes. Even though the revived flame did little to change the greyness of his face, the Legate met the eyes of his creation saying with that continued tone of defeat, "Me too, Drifter."
Lord Interfector finally stood from his place, mind still swarming with thoughts, but unparalyzed by their weight, he recentered his mind on the task at hand. Feeling the weight of his armor replace the weight of his soul's defeat, Lord Interfector stood looking down at the Legate who was recovering much more slowly, "I guess I'll see you in 'The Divide' before we march on NCR proper... Shouldn't be more than a few months from now, right?"
Graham looked back into the eyes of Lord Interfector, the words serving as another reminder of the fate he knew deep down was close, "I'm not sure I'll ever cross the Colorado."
Lord Interfector grew a slight smile. If there was anything he ever saw himself an expert in, it was being good at heart in an undeniably bad nation. Even if that goodness within still resulted in a bad sum characterization. Because of that, he took the Legate's words and brushed them off as he adjusted his armor, "I'll see you there, Graham. Keep your head up..."
Just then he saw the flame in Graham's eyes glow even brighter before the Elite concluded, "... I might like to meet this 'secret friend' of yours sometime when we reach the west."
For the briefest moment, the fire in the Legate's eyes died completely before returning once more followed by a tragic grin, "He already knows you, knew you your whole life and..." He stopped, finding some sort of hope in the Elite's suggestion, but knowing what it would take in service to the Bull for them to meet up in the west, he said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
At that, the Elite saw the new hope behind the fire in his Legate and friend's eyes, and grinned once more before saying, "I'll see you on the other side of the river, Graham."
Lord Interfector departed his tent while Graham collected himself further. As the Elite went to go survey and introduce himself to the commanders of the new centuries he was assigned, Aleron sat in his place stunned. Aleron had overheard the entire conversation from his spot on that bench next to the wall of his Elite's tent. Upon learning that he could overhear the private conversation from that seat, his mind battled itself about whether or not he should listen at all since the words were not for himself. He had heard so many things said by two of the Legion's greatest commanders that could have been called treason against Caesar or the Legion. Part of him felt he should report the two of them to... Someone? There was no other "Someones" higher than his Elite in 400 miles and nobody higher than Legate Graham other than Caesar himself. Legate Graham and Lord Interfector were the words of Caesar, and the more he heard from the two men, the more he began to think for himself and form his own opinions about thoughts he'd never had. In the end, Aleron had no desire to report either man to anyone or anything, he had heard everything said, and came to a resolution created by himself based on experience with the two men. Aleron continued to figure out all that he'd learned and consider the subsequent thoughts, trying to make sense of the ones he'd never had before that went something like this:
Aleron had learned that the two men he met firsthand and respected most in his whole life had resigned themselves to a fate that neither of them wanted at some point in their lives for service to Caesar. Both the Legate and his commander/friend of 14 years clearly had regret for everything they've done for Caesar. Their conclusion said the monolithic and unifying force the Legion is, remains something worth serving till the end, and this was shown by their complete resignation to the Legion's speculated end for both men despite internal misgivings about their roles under Caesar himself.
As Aleron continued to grapple with his thoughts and understand the reality of what he overheard, he was so locked in his own head trying to better understand the two men he served with all his being that he didn't even notice how low the sun had gotten or take notice of the new arrivals in the camp.
Centurion Montano led his century past the entry posts and stepped into the Interfector's camp limits. He took notice of the large force Legate Graham had brought up on the separate task, and ordered his legionaries where to begin setting up, briefly looking back the way he came to see the long line of crimson creeping closer and closer to the encampment. Turning back to the camp's center, Montano looked for the Interfector or his Legate to check in with, but couldn't see either in the mass of red shuffling about the camp and all over the surrounding cliffs. When his eyes landed on the command tent atop a small hill, he instantly saw the Legate emerge. As his staff began directing the force where to stand by, Montano's eyes drifted from the Legate to a centurion sitting on a bench beside the command domicile. Montano absently approached the Legate for orders and arrival duties, his eyes were still trained on the Centurion sitting on that bench. He speculated at first glance, but the closer he got to the Legate, the more clearly he could detail the other centurion. When he was within 50 yards of the Legate, Montano could clearly see that the centurion was Aleron, who hadn't even noticed his arrival. Aleron sat on that bench with a face that Montano had never seen before, seemingly locked in some deep contemplation. Centurion Montano shrugged the thoughts of his rival out of his head when he stepped before Legate Graham, ready for new orders.
Lord Interfector did as he was instructed and departed for The Divide by the end of that week in mid-October, taking his newly assigned Cohort out to see his special task in the Mojave War was done. Being such a unique assignment that was taking the Interfector so far, Aleron was granted special permission from Legate Graham to carry out the last instruction from Lord Interfector of Phoenix. Aleron was ordered to take the Interfector's child named Abel and wife Amethyst to the care of his briefly mentioned friend from prior days called, "Markus Dinero" an administrator in the Flagstaff Palatii. Centurion Aleron carried out his order expertly not less than two weeks after the Elite's departure and left the written instruction of Lord Interfector in the hands of Markus Dinero who would hold the family until further notice or a time of reunion could be arranged. Within those instructions contained a demand to leave the child and wife to his old friend in the Frumantarii named Dalton should the worst happen. It wouldn't be until Aleron arrived back under the Legate's authority and two months of preparation passed before word reached Arizona about how the worst did in fact happen.
Aleron never heard from the Elite after his departure from the camp in northwest Arizona, and never heard from the family again after leaving them in Flagstaff. Though his lack of word about the family was due to them not being part of his life after the drop-off, the lack of word from the Murderer of Phoenix came with an unusual explanation not more than a week before the Battle of Hoover Dam.
Nobody knew what happened at "The Divide" and the Interfector's disappearance became wrapped up with The Legend of The Divide in the Legion's camps. As stated above, something strange but catastrophic happened in the place Aleron's Primus of 14 years was sent not long before the Battle of Hoover Dam. Though the Interfector wasn't the reason, the supply line he was sent to cut was destroyed by some other means. One way or another, the Legion usually wins, even during this time, and their goal was accomplished when an entire region west of the Mojave Wasteland was rendered completely uninhabitable. Despite the vanishing of an entire Legion Cohort, and despite half of Death Valley being consumed into an enormous cloud of dust, the NCR across the Mojave and lower California were still scrambling to figure out what happened out there when Legate Graham launched his attack.
The fate of the Interfector hit Graham when members of the Frumantarii reported what they'd seen beyond the cloud of dust, but the fire of wrath in him had been reignited with an enemy in front. Even though both commanders had accepted their ends, Graham, despite his breakdown, was a man of untethered rage who remembered the Interfector's fate and how that man embraced what he was, seeing his end for the Legion's banner despite the wars in his own mind.
So, with Aleron and Montano under the command of their Legatus Imperialis, it was the early months of 2277 when both found themselves on the frontlines of the first battle in Caesar's newest war, the Legion's final war. This was a war that would put new meaning behind the duelists' feud when all they'd been through culminated in one massive shockwave created by the fall of a Goliath.
A/N: The issue about the homosexual centurion was a reference to "Jimmy" the prostitute at the Casa Madrid Apartments in West Side... In case you were wondering. Also, sorry if this was a little long, I considered splitting it but decided not to because I felt the length was still fitting given all that ultimately happens. Hope you liked it! : )