Loyal to What Pt I

Roughly Two Months Later

Montano stepped up into the pitch black enclosure. His eyes failed to adjust even with the bright light of the lowering sun behind him. The darkness of the enclosure failed to penetrate more than a foot inside the small space, but he continued forward with three short steps before he found him. Montano could hear Aleron step up into the enclosure as soon as he felt what he was looking for. As Montano maneuvered his way to the proper place in the black, he moved his hand along the man's arm. Looking back towards the blinding light, he propped up the prisoner towards the black figure silhouetted in the entryway. The prisoner's only protest was out of weakness rather than resistance to fate, and Montano couldn't understand why this was happening to the prisoner who didn't have the mental or physical will to defy. Montano heard the jingle of the prisoner's chains as he moved him the few short steps to the entryway and more of those thoughts plagued his mind before he shoved them violently out of his mind. Even those simple thoughts about the reason for this event were walking the slim border of treason, and that was something that was impossible for Montano to entertain. Montano released his grip on the prisoner as he was taken under Aleron's escort. Aleron guided the prisoner down the four short little steps and Montano emerged back into the bright world.

Montano stood upon the edge of the prisoner carriage entryway and his eyes readjusted to the blinding light. He stood there for no more than a few seconds, seeing his rival escort the prisoner down the last step and a few steps away as Montano took a short note of the two formations of legionaries surrounding the prisoner carriage. When the steps were completely cleared and Aleron resumed his place beside the prisoner, Montano stepped down off the sealed wagon and resumed his assignment. Montano took his place on the left side of the prisoner and Aleron briefly glanced at Montano before looking back at the path forward lined with veteran legionaries standing shoulder to shoulder. The duelists heard the metal stairway get dragged away and heard the two legionaries behind them clank the prisoner carriage shut before Montano, Aleron, and the Legate turned prisoner began forward.

Montano and Aleron looped their arms under Joshua's chained arms and marched slowly forward. The whole world appeared to be completely silent. The gently blowing wind moved the banners along the legionary-lined path but all was silent. Not even their footsteps made any noise as the dirt beneath them was stepped on. Both men advanced with their old legate and the duelists' eyes were fixed forward as the legate himself move along still without protest.

Legate Graham was no longer the proud man in crimson and black the two had seen many times before. He also didn't resemble the terrifying man occasionally clad in wastelander garb and rodeo jeans they too had seen on occasion. The man between them was a dirty unshaven mess, a victim of terrible torture in blood stained slave rags with an unkempt beard and a mess of brown hair atop his head. Aleron and Montano both would not have known this man was their old legate if they weren't tasked by Lucius and the praetorian staff for this particular occasion. Knowing this was the day the example was to be set, Aleron and Montano proceeded with their directive unable to stop studying the hanging head of the legate between them, their minds full of memories about what this man used to be. The duelists kept their heads forward and passed a few more centuries along the dirt path before the opening was in sight and the legate lifted his head. Legate Graham had kept his eyes forward since the march began, but he knew the lifting of his head was noticed by his escorts.

Getting closer to the opening at the rim of the canyon, Aleron felt the eyes of Graham land on his person. Even though he refused to meet the look, Aleron felt it clear as day on the side of his helm and heard the silent message as another breeze hit his face. That message made all the memories of the Interfector flash before his mind in an instant and all the times Aleron met and spoke with the Legate entered his ears in a schizophrenic way. Aleron knew that he was about to help kill a man he looked up to even more than the Interfector himself, a man who was one of the Interfector's only friends. Despite these memories and the tragic weight they added to the deed he was about to partake in, Aleron felt the last message enter his being just before the destroyed Legate averted his gaze. That message said, "You do what you need to, but remember who I was."

The trio advanced further and Montano kept his eyes forward as well before seeing and feeling the legate prisoner's look land on himself. Montano's mask can and did protect him from a lot of damage over the years. However, if there was anyone who could break through the solid steel emotionless visage, it was he who granted the mask in the first place. Montano felt the gaze pierce his gifted mask that and Montano again felt a swarm of memories dig into his mind. Montano saw each time he'd been led to countless victories under the Legate's leadership across the southwest. He remembered his moments of triumph particularly in the New Mexico Campaign where he not only served the legate to the best of his ability, but was awarded special recognition from the man now in chains. Montano felt sick as he felt the defeated eyes of the legate and nearly felt bad for what he was doing. Montano loved his Legate only slightly less than Caesar himself and suddenly felt angrily confused when all those memories of glory were dashed to pieces by the remembrance of that terrible defeat scarcely a few months prior. The confusion of what all the good meant in the face of a single something that was so bad rid Montano of all emotion as a feeling of betrayal struck him by the deed. Betrayal was something unforgivable to anyone Legion, and forgiveness itself was a word that had almost no place in the Legion. Montano couldn't decipher whether it was Caesar who betrayed Graham by this coming event, or if it was Graham who betrayed everyone under the Bull by such an enormous defeat after decades of victory. Montano felt angry, angry at the world, himself, the Legate, Caesar, Aleron, and all those soldiers lining the path, but his eyes remained forward. Montano found the confusion in his mind about what was correct and just disappeared when evidence of who stood victorious in the present spoke the only truth a person had in this world. Caesar was victorious, and the Legate was not, no matter how much victory had been obtained under Legate Graham. The fact that it was Legate Graham who was wrapped in chains and being marched to the platform was the only proof of who was correct, and that's all that Montano needed to understand the matter further. Montano heard the last message of Graham enter his mind, "I forgive you" and Graham finally looked away from the man who served him so well.

The duelists and their legate prisoner reached the end of the legionary lined path and passed between the two banners into the open space. Both men could see all the tents beyond the enormous mass of soldiers congregated around this small patch of dirt. Together, they proceeded towards the rocky edge and towards the wooden platform with the chained man. As they approached, the silence lessened, the soldiers around them remained quiet as the grave, but the dirt they stepped over finally began to release its noise as the soft wind was punctuated by the clink of chains against the metal flag posts of so many Legion banners. When they were halfway to the platform, Graham lowered his head even further and both duelists caught the sight of Lord Caesar standing off to the north side of the crimson mass. The two continued along militarily, but both men considered the same thought at the same time. This was the closest that either man had ever gotten to Lord Caesar, a mere thirty feet away. Both men wondered how they would be received by their lord after carrying out this task, but that changed when they were transmitted the reason that Graham lowered his head. Neither knew how they knew this, but they both learned that Graham didn't lower his head further out of shame, but out of the inability to look at that emperor.

Before either of them knew it, Aleron and Montano handed the chained man to the sentries atop the platform. Within a few seconds neither remembered, the duelists completed the handoff and began their march off to the south end of the surrounding formation as instructed by Lucius. When the duelists reached their position and did an about face they stood completely still and silent, still thinking about how they'd known their legate and what they'd done for him. These thoughts continued to plague their minds as they absently watched their legate be guided further towards the edge of the platform. Both had only seen the Grand Canyon briefly when they handed their legate to the platform sentries, but that image continued to take up the entirety of their vision when the Legate was turned around and the large jars of boiling pitch were brought to the edge of the wooden platform. A praetorian executioner took his place beside a lever, and three others approached the jars of pitch where they then lit long torches. Lucius raised his distant hand with three extended fingers and the duelists continued to fix their gaze on the Legate while they heard all the officers move forward. Every officer, Prime Decanus to Veteran Centurion left their positions from the silent mass surrounding them and completely lined the edge of the open space surrounding the platform. The duelists briefly noticed some of the centurions take their places along the ridge of the Grand Canyon with weapons drawn and aimed at the lone man atop the wooden protrusion. The wind slowed even more and the silence intensified when all eyes were turned to Lord Caesar stepping towards the chained man.

Caesar stopped a foot in front of the platform with the entire praetorian staff behind him and the duelists heard the chain softly clink against the nearest Legion banner a few times over the hour-long seconds. The silence on that ridge overlooking the Grand Canyon ended when Lord Caesar broke the silence. Despite the distance or location in the formation, every legionary present that day could see the sneer on their lord's face as they heard his words for the legate prisoner. Lord Caesar said to the lone figure;

"Go ahead Graham, pray to God. Ask Him to save you..." The chained legate remained silently staring down at his feet. After a long and quiet moment, Lord Caesar added, "... Do it, I'll wait..."

At that, another long moment passed before the chained man ever so slowly raised his head and looked into the rapidly setting sun. Everyone, including Caesar, expected Legate Graham to meet the eyes of Caesar and carry out his mocking demand. Instead, Legate Graham raised his head until he was looking straight into the setting sun behind Lord Caesar. With the rise of his head, the dead eyes of Graham were exposed to all, showing a flame in them burning hotter and brighter than ever before.

Graham's eyes remained transfixed on that sun for another long silent moment before the words, "Forgive him Father... He has no fucking idea what he's doing," crept softly out of his mouth, carried in the wind for all to hear.

Legate Graham kept his gaze on that sun for a long time after those words left his mouth and more silence continued to devour the surrounding world. As the silence consumed more and more of the world around them, everyone could see the flame in the Legate's eyes die more and more and more. The flame within had finally been extinguished for the final time, it was gone for good, and not even the embers remained in them when his eyes finally landed on the man he served for three decades. 30 years of the utmost dedication flashed before his eyes only to be sentenced to death the second he failed his friend and stood for himself for the first time. The anger nearly sparked once again as more memories of the betrayal weighed on his being. However, before the dam could break, Joshua, without thinking about it, placed all those enormous weights at the only place they belonged: At the foot of the cross. Graham thought about that symbol that saved himself and billions of others over the centuries and how he'd personally twisted that symbol into something that showed the end to all who opposed Lord Caesar. Graham was ashamed of his entire life and everything he'd done, but when that flame was gone this time, it was gone for good, and Graham was internally happy that he was about to receive what he so deserved. A price he'd pay again and again since he knew this was a defeat that would only ensure an even greater victory. Caesar was still grinning at having sparked that flame earlier, and felt as though he could reignite it one last time when he saw it finally die as the moments passed.

The chains continued to tap softly on the Bull banners when Caesar finally raised his arms out and gestured to the sky. "I half expected a lightning bolt to strike me, but look at that... Not a cloud in sight..." Caesar paused, waiting to see if his words had any more effect on his second, but as it was said, the flame was extinguished for the final time. The fire in Graham's soul was gone for good, he was dead, and he was ready. Caesar continued to meet the black eyes of Graham and was frustrated about the lack of effect.

After another moment of frustrated contemplation, Lord Caesar finally asked, "... Anything else?"

Graham, at last, lifted his eyes from the emperor, from the setting sun, and to something far above the both of them. A lone tear fell from Graham's eye and a triumphant smile crept across his face when he shut his eyes and spoke straight to that something else. Completely calm, soft, and without the burden of that flame, Graham said;

"I'm ready Lord."

The chained man slowly opened his eyes, and lowered his head one final time in complete humility. This was not humility before the emperor he failed, the former friend before him, or the wicked mass watching him, it was to the wood he stood upon. It was to the rock around him, the air he breathed, and the water flowing far below in that massive canyon beneath him. It was humility before this planet and its people that would always be saved despite the darkness of the blackest nights. Graham was completely ready for his death which had already been a long time coming. Graham felt that fire of wrath leave his soul for good, but knew that matter, either physical or spiritual is something that cannot be removed but can only take new form. Graham felt the platform ever so subtly rock as the praetorians stepped forth with the jars of boiling pitch and flaming torches, knowing that the removal of his inner flame would take a new shape in a new flame around him. A flame that would in turn replace that destructive fire inside with one that encompassed a returned prodigal's forever after. All was silent as the praetorians stopped before him and there he knew, deep in his heart, that he was to die. As much as he was scared and resigned to his death, he also knew that death was something that had already been conquered by the true Lord of this world. No matter how painful this death would be, it was only the beginning, even for a man who sinned so greatly but ultimately bowed and repented before the throne of glory like he'd done in his complete resignation. Judgment awaited the Legate, but his place in eternity was yet to be decided, for there was still more work to do. Though neither Graham, nor Caesar, nor Aleron and Montano, or anyone else there knew it, Graham would indeed live on. Being alive in story, reality, or even a strange mix of the two, death was most certainly not the end of someone like Joshua Graham. Although, the undeniable truth remained: death still had to come before any resurrection could take place, and Graham did not have long to wait.

All Legion eyes watched the Legate stay in place as the jars of boiling pitch were cast upon him. The figure remained in place as the burning sludge coated his person and dripped down his head as if it were nothing. His head hung low and his hands remained chained and motionless as they hung in front of him even as the skin was burned away. All eyes continued to watch, expecting an agonizing scream at the searing pain that never came. Not more than five seconds after the first jar was poured, the long torches ignited the silent legate, and the silence continued as the body was instantly wrapped in flame. The lever was pulled, and the Legate immediately fell through the trap door, down into the Grand Canyon, and the only sound was the gentle clank of those chains tapping against the metal posts upholding the Bull banners.