Aleron Pt III

Veteran Decanus Falco awoke on a stretcher a few hours after he and his centurion's removal from the Camp Forlorn Hope jail. His jaw was almost completely busted, but the pain was nonexistent. He assumed this was because the pain was so severe that he'd been completely numbed to it, but was unaware that the NCR medics had actually injected him with another stimpack before he was readied to move out. He felt his body sweating profusely and believed himself to still be dreaming, but he could see the figure above him despite being too blinded by the sun above to make out exactly what it was at first. The figure adjusted itself, breathed heavily, and looked down at Falco's face, partially blocking the sun above and showing what it was. Falco didn't see anything other than that brown pan helmet and the disgruntled face beneath it before he instantly raised his hands to begin protest. The only problem was that Falco couldn't, his hands were shackled to the stretcher he occupied and couldn't raise his hands but four inches from where they currently were. Just then, the face looking down at him said;

"Look who's awake..." The figure looked up, blinding Falco to the sun again as the trooper spoke to someone ahead, "Ey, Martin. Looks like the mad lad came around."

Falco only heard the trooper ahead called "Martin" give out a "Ha!" before Falco immediately began struggling, trying to break free of his restraints.

There, Falco found out his legs were shackled too, rendering all of his protests futile. This struggle was noticed by the trooper above who only said, "We'll have enough of that outta you, boyo... Should be thankin me and Martin here for givin you a free ride. Your poor pal's been takin the shoelace express like the rest'of'us..."

Falco went to let out a spree of curses and shouts, but his mouth and jaw were too mangled to offer anything but a croaking groan. He tried to form some spit in his mouth for the face above him but came to the same conclusion about that prospect's impossibility before he even attempted it. When he'd been rendered completely unable to protest either physically or verbally, the words of the trooper finally hit him and Falco lifted his head in search of his "pal."

Just beyond the trooper called "Martin" at the front of the stretcher, Falco could see several more stretchers in transport occupied by profligate troops as the whole caravan rounded a slight turn on a highway. Beyond them were three brahmin full of supplies, with three armed troopers on each side of each beast. Then, just past the supplies was a concentration of what appeared to be six troopers encircling someone in the middle at the head of the column. It was hard to see past so many soldiers, but between a gap in the tight little formation, Falco saw his centurion hobbling along with his legs and hands bound. Montano was too far for Falco to get his attention even if his jaw wasn't busted or his vocal chords hadn't been torn by so much screaming, so Falco again realized he was completely powerless.

All Falco could do to keep from even trying his futile escape attempts or keep those thoughts of such an incredible failure from weighing on him was to look around. Falco couldn't stand the sight of the soldiers in brown around this caravan, so his attention went to every other direction as he surveyed his surroundings. There wasn't much but sand and rock to his right, but to his left and past a small collection of buildings he could see a larger building with a sign on top saying "REPCONN." Falco had no idea what that was, but when looking at the structure, his peripherals caught sight of that tower in the distance marking the city of Vegas.

The highway straightened out and although Falco was no longer able to see the entirety of the caravan, his eyes went to the distant suburbs marking the perimeter of outer Vegas. That was where Falco and his Primus were heading, straight to the profligate city, a city that actually took pride in its dissolute nature.

He'd heard that they were actually heading to the profligate army base just outside the city called Camp McCarran, but the fantasies of him not being there for Vegas's sacking finally began to hit him even more. The thought was too much, and Falco couldn't bring himself to take in any more of the sights around him, especially the sight of his Primus bound and marching towards the worst fate a servant of Caesar could receive: captivity... The ultimate way to fail Caesar.

There was nothing for Falco to do but stare up at that blinding sun above and ignore the occasional word sent his way by the stretcher-bearers. Falco had resigned himself to be the ultimate failure that he was, and his only solace was the fact that his centurion was there with him.

Only a few minutes in this defeat had passed when his view of the sun was briefly obstructed after crossing under a bridge of sorts. Just as he came out the other side, he heard the trooper above him say, "... What say you, Caesar man? You smoke?..."

Falco ignored this and wouldn't have replied even if he was able to. The voice of trooper Martin sounded up ahead, "Ah come on man, you know these Caesar boys ain't allowed to smoke! I bet his 'kenturion' or whatever would kill him just for that stimpack we gave him."

The trooper above said to Falco in amusement, "Don't you worry about your kenturion no more, Mr. Bladeswinger. He can't getcha for a measly stim while your with PFC Martin and I... Plus, I'm sure your kenturion's long-dead back in no man's..."

Falco thought about Montano at the head of the caravan, knowing his centurion was still very much alive to their shared dismay, and the trooper above went on talking to Falco as if he were actually interested in his words;

"... That jaw of yours will be fixed up right as lack of rain in no time... Good thing too because I know my Legion bud here is more of a Chaw man than a smoker!"

Trooper Martin let out a laugh and just as the trooper above was about to go on amusing his friend at Falco's expense, a series of shots rang out in every direction.

Falco's heart stopped in surprise before he became instantly giddy at the idea of finally dying. The immediate shots made Falco's stretcher-bearers halt in place as troopers from the rear came storming past them. Falco twisted his head in every direction looking for the attacker as he was gently set down by trooper Martin and his comrade. Falco's gentle lowering was put to an immediate end and the raiders were identified as not-Legion when a laser beam came from the right and pierced Trooper Martin's neck, the blinding beam coming out the other side.

The leg end of Falco's stretcher came down with a crash and bent one of the poles out of place as Trooper Martin fell to the asphalt and the head end fell equally hard when Martin's friend went to see to him. More dirt and debris kicked up as more shots came from all directions and the NCR troopers fanned out to fire into the wastes and nearby suburbs. There Falco laid, slightly concussed from the short drop of his stretcher and the trooper responsible for him was out of sight seeing to his killed friend. All the while, Falco stared up at the sky as his view of it became slightly more obscured by the dust of battle.

Moments into the chaos, Falco heard the voice of his surviving stretcher-bearer scream over the roar of gunfire to one of the rear guard troops, "... I CAN'T LEAVE MARTIN LIKE THIS!"

One of the rear guards screamed back, "WE HAVE TO! COME ON! CONVOY'S MOVING OUTTA THE KILLZONE!"

More gunshots popped off and laser beams shot across the landscape as trooper Martin's friend asked, "WHAT ABOUT THE PRISONER!?"

The rear guardsmen shouted back, "LEAVE HIM FOR THE FIENDS! WE GOT THE OTHER ONE MOVING UP, SO COME ON! LET'S GO!"

Falco propped his head up and watched the NCR forces of the caravan flee north towards the city as more shots pelted the toppled brahmin and the soldiers fled away from the Killzone. Several of the stretchers were left abandoned there with him, and Falco assumed the ones taken were the ones carting their injured troops. As the rear guard scrambled north, returning fire when possible, Falco caught the last glimpse of his centurion still getting rushed away from the ambush site and grinned at his continuing protest before disappearing beyond the dust. There Falco lay, abandoned with the NCR's dead as the shots around him came to a close and the "Fiends" approached the meager spoils of their partially successful raid.

"I don't respect, admire, or even like the Fiends, but I understand Caesar's use for them more and more..." said Aleron to himself as he turned his eyes back to Falco kneeling before him.

Aleron studied the broken and battered man for a long while in the immediate silence. Aleron pieced together a pretty clear picture of what happened with Decanus Falco and Centurion Montano. Despite it being tremendously difficult for Falco to relay the story with his broken jaw, Aleron couldn't help but admire the rapid results of old world medicines and how their implementation would shave days or even weeks off normal legionary recovery times. Aleron knew the reason for this was because overreliance on such remedies would only make the Legion weaker with time, but Aleron briefly gave internal thanks to NCR for giving Falco the ability to relay his story. However, just to verify, Aleron reiterated what he took from the story of Falco. Aleron stated;

"... So, after the Fiends picked through the wreckage of their attack and after the NCR withdrew from the region with Centurion Montano. The Fiends left you alone believing you to be dead in your concussed state. Sometime after they departed, you managed to free your legs due to the damaged stretcher poles. You then walked south through the open wastes, evading regional traffic, NCR patrols, and found yourself at the gates of Cottonwood Cove approximately three days later. Surviving the heat and living off the land, you were taken to the feet of Centurion Aurelius of Phoenix who admired your determination to relay Montano's death and approved your request to be crucified for failure under the condition that you fulfill the last request of Centurion Montano by reporting his fate to me..."

Aleron paused and the decanus nodded with his head hung low. Aleron finally said, "I only have one question..." Falco raised his head slightly and Aleron asked, "Why did you tell Aurelius that Montano was killed when you told me that he was captured? Why did you lie to a centurion of the Legion?"

Falco looked up, and after a brief hesitation, managed to say, "... I am certain of Montano's death by this point. I only left out the details regarding his capture because I have such respect for him..."

Again, it took Falco a while to speak since his jaw was still recovering and Aleron had to have certain words reiterated on occasion. Still, when Aleron heard everything he had to, Falco saw the question on Aleron's mind and went to answer it before it was asked, "... I only told Centurion Aleron the truth because I knew Centurion Montano, regardless of his feud with you, was not afraid to lie to his rival's face..."

Aleron let those words linger for a while as he looked at the broken state of the deliverer and wondered about whether or not Montano truly was alive at this point. Aleron himself had every reason to believe that Montano found the time to do what he needed to do in captivity, but still, there was something else. Even the idea of Montano getting himself captured in the first place was something that continued to leave Aleron feeling somewhat vacant. Aleron remained silently contemplating all of this, the weight of his rival's fate striking him a bit harder than he thought, and though he was inclined to grin at Montano's desire for Aleron to hear his true fate, the matter was still one that only left him thinking. At last, Falco looked up a bit more to the eyes of Aleron, expecting Aleron's face to show amusement in the failure of his Primus but was surprised to see Montano's rival still stuck in deep contemplation. Falco remained ready to defend the honor of Montano despite his shackled and battered state, but the more he looked at Aleron, the more he knew that he wouldn't have to do that. Finally, Falco managed to say to Aleron;

"... I must also inform Centurion Aleron of my final message before my death: ... Centurion Montano intended to give to you everything that was in his possession, every title, every slave, every property... Should he die."

Even hearing that Montano left everything he had to his sworn enemy did little to change the demeanor of Aleron still stuck in thought. As odd as Aleron thought it was that he too left everything he had to Montano should he die, this idea could not change what Aleron was considering, even as Falco added;

"... Centurion Aurelius was aware of this as well, so expect a runner with the remainder of my Centurion's belongings with the accompanying certifications in the coming days..."

"Could it really be?" Thought Centurion Aleron. Aleron had dreamt of Montano's death for so many years, spent days planning it in his mind, and even attempted it on so many occasions throughout the years. So much planning, so much preparation, so many battles, so many wars, and so much time passed only for Aleron's sworn enemy to die in the aftermath of one battle that wouldn't even be recorded in the Legion's history? Montano, after all he'd done, was finally gone, and although he was likely dead by this point, Montano was actually taken captive as well? Aleron would have certainly used such a fate against him if they were to ever face each other again before a bout of mutual combat, but Montano was gone now, dead or captive didn't matter. Aleron knew that he would never see his rival again, and would never have the chance to be the one who personally escorted him into the grave. All of this left Aleron feeling more empty than he'd been in his whole life.

Aleron would receive the items left to him, but the idea of receiving these inanimate objects or titles for slaves and land so many miles away only carved the feeling of Aleron's emptiness even further into his being. After so long in this silence after hearing the news and battling the emptiness of the new world without his rival, Aleron heard from the bound man before him;

"... Centurion Aleron. I have done all that was left for me in service to Caesar. I am yours to end for my failure by capture, and am ready for the cross..."

Ever so slowly, Aleron was pulled from his thoughts as the present came back and the words entered his brain one by one. Aleron finally looked up from his lap, his mind clear as the weight of Montano's fate hung dangerously in the background until he looked upon the hanging head of Decanus Falco.

At any other time in his life, Aleron would have looked at a legionary who'd been captured and knelt before him with dripping disgust and disdain. Aleron would have personally hammered in the nails like he'd done to so many slaves and profligates over the decades, but Aleron looked at the chained decanus in a way that was completely foreign to his prior determinations. Aleron saw the defeated and hanging head of Falco and the thoughts of acting on Falco's request for death were nestled in the furthest parts of his mind. When Aleron looked at Falco, he was not looking at a legionary who got captured. He wasn't even looking at a legionary who escaped captivity without spilling a word. Aleron was looking at an exceptionally devout and loyal officer of the Legion, an officer who did not get captured, but merely stuck by the commander he so loved even if it meant failure to Caesar. Whether that was because of coincidence, unfortunate circumstances, or fate was irrelevant. Falco loved his commander so much that he craved his own death, but not before he could carry out the final demands of that commander when his situation left him free from captivity.

Finally, Decanus Falco felt the eyes of Centurion Aleron as he awaited the determination in that deafening silence. No words came, but still, those eyes remained on Falco's person until the kneeling man, at last, looked up to meet the eyes of his centurion's sworn enemy. When Aleron saw the eyes of Falco sitting above that broken and distorted mouth, he could not see Falco. Centurion Aleron could only see the last remaining vestige of a man he dedicated years of Legion service towards besting. Aleron's life flashed before his eyes. Everything he'd done since meeting Montano in that sleepy Arizona town between waging war on the Ajoans, serving the Interfector, running Circle Junction, fighting at Dog Town, pushing the Legion towards even more victories, and then helping pick the Legion back up after the humiliation at the Dam, all of it flashed before his eyes. He heard the words of Montano accuse him of disloyalty to Caesar on that first morning, and saw the determined eyes of Montano as Aleron was carried back across the Dam. Then, he saw the face of that man hovering over him the night after Graham's death as his own words from that evening went through his mind again: "Do it... Montano."

Montano was to win that night and Aleron was to die. "It should have been me," thought Aleron. Aleron should not have lived past that night, and although his end may not have prevented the ultimate fate of Montano, Aleron knew that if there was anyone in the room this evening who was destined for a cross, it wasn't Falco, it was himself. Aleron knew that he'd been living on borrowed time since the night Montano won their last fight, but then Aleron remembered another person who was living on borrowed time...

Aleron remembered that man so well, and more importantly, how highly his Lord Interfector looked up to him... A long time had passed since that day he overheard his Elite speak to the old Legate, and there Aleron remembered the Elite himself and what a wildly devoted yet tragic man he was. Aleron thought back to the first day he met the Lord Interfector and what he did. Aleron saw himself standing between two legionaries chained to two posts. The one on the left was his younger self, and the one on his right was Montano wearing the rags that Falco currently wore. The chained Aleron looked into the eyes of his rival on the other post, both with their backs ready to be opened as the Centurion of today and so many years past stood between them... So many years of such exceptional servitude was given to both Aleron and Montano that day when they were extended a mercy that neither of them wanted. That mercy extended to Aleron and Montano ignited the engine that drove both men to so much success and triumph by their inability to be put back in their incognito positions within the Legion's ranks after that day. Aleron continued to think about that first act of "kindness" from a fish out of water like the Lord Interfector was and continued to be throughout his own years of exceptional servitude for a master he couldn't love but followed anyway out of duty. Both duelists knew that they owed the Lord Interfector so much for that simple act, as the two would forever be remembered for standing out from the masses of legionaries from that point forward, and never look back when they remembered the look in the others' eyes before their next moment of glory.

There, Aleron broke from his dreaming thoughts and looked into the eyes of Falco seeing the same man that was chained to the post outside Gold Canyon back in 2262. Aleron saw the same fire in Falco that the Interfector saw in himself and Montano that day, and knew Decanus Falco's story was not nearly over.

Aleron, at last, said very calmly to Decanus Falco, "... No... Stand up..."

Aleron could see the panic in Falco's eyes at being spared from what he felt he was due, but Aleron put a halt to any protest before it could start as he told Falco the words that weren't Aleron's own;

"This matter is over. You might have been wrong in some form or another, but that doesn't mean your damned hands should be nailed to a cross. You screwed up? Fine. I don't care. Just don't let it happen again. I hope you learned something... Mercy isn't such a bad thing if you can help it."

Weeks Later - Mid 2281

Aleron's sparing of Decanus Falco went unnoticed by pretty much every other centurion or commander in the lakeside encampment, and he'd been ignored entirely by Lord Caesar and the elites of the Fort's interior for so long that nobody even took notice of his new slave. Some of Aleron's peers at the lakeside encampment occasionally asked in passing why his new slave was a man of military age and fitness, but their inquiries were usually brushed off when Aleron said the new slave owed him. No further explanation was needed after that, especially since Aleron was the Fort's top administrator who had more "important" things to do than explain the backstory of his new "pion."

Of course Falco protested his sparing that first night, but was very forthrightly reminded by Centurion Aleron that Falco was not to question the orders of a centurion as the words of a centurion were the words of Caesar wherever the Emperor wasn't. Falco continued to feel like the failure he was, but regardless of his internal dismay, he carried out the orders of his new centurion without question or protest. And so, Falco strictly adhered to Aleron's orders to not take his own life despite the lingering mental pain of having been captured. Falco's jaw was fully healed shortly after that night and he tried to take as much humiliation as he could in the demotion to slave. Becoming a slave was certainly not the crucifixion he wanted, but it did well in giving him the feeling of justice he craved for his failure to Caesar. Falco would carry out each of Centurion Aleron's menial directives and often worked alongside Gabriella, bearing the brunt of the abuse on errands around the camp from his former brothers in rank and arms Falco never revealed who he used to be, but always identified himself as the property of Centurion Aleron before he had the satisfaction of a beating brought about by one of his ex-brothers he failed. Aleron himself continued to be plagued with the empty void left by Montano's fate, and although time seemed to help, the thought was still there hovering in the background while Aleron filled his days with menial work for the Fort's operations.

It should be mentioned that Aleron was only keeping Falco a slave just as a temporary means of punishment while he figured out how to properly utilize him. He considered raising him back to his prior rank and having him set off to oversee Montano's old lands and slaves now left to Aleron, but he decided to hold off on that as he was pulled this way and that regarding matters of the Fort. So, Falco would remain a slave in the meantime if only so Aleron could keep a stricter eye on him and allow him to serve in a better way.

Now, Aleron obviously knew how skilled of a fighter Falco was, and being the second to a man like Montano meant that he was a very dangerous kind of slave. Of course, Aleron knew that Falco would bear any kind of abuse since the former decanus saw the enslavement as the punishment it was. Aleron's only fear regarding the new slave in the meantime was that Falco would become so deteriorated by slavery that he would screw up his next shot at redeeming himself... Whenever or whatever that may be. Either way, Aleron was hesitant to send Falco into the arena, but the fear of him becoming complacent eventually outweighed his fear of Falco using a chance in the arena to achieve his overdue death. So, after a few weeks in slavery, Aleron had Falco fight in the Fort's arena under the strict orders that "death was not an option." With the complacency worry being dealt with by arena fights, Aleron had a secondary objective to fulfill with Falco's time in the arena as well. This secondary objective was one that Aleron was working on while Falco took part in the series of fights.

Falco entered the Fort's arena under the name "Falcon" and although that wasn't the cleverest of names, it was enough to prevent any parallels with any legionaries who may have heard about the death of Montano and his staff in an attack on Camp Forlorn Hope. After all, if anyone back at Nelson managed to see two of their own get captured in the night of Montano's fate, there was no way of knowing exactly which two legionaries they were through the smoke of battle, distance, and darkness of that night. The only one who may have been able to connect the two people was Centurion Aurelius, but he'd been assigned to oversee Cottonwood Cove likely until the next battle at the Dam, and the chances of Aleron stumbling across him with Falco by his side were not going to happen in the foreseeable future. So, the only strangeness that came from Falco's time in the arena was the curiosity that was usually stirred when Falco entered the cage and expertly slaughtered the other slaves who tried their hands at freedom. Despite Aleron's misgivings about having Falco kill a few recruits in that series of fights, he figured that Falco was merely trimming the fat that would have died in the opening machinegun fire of the first wave against Hoover Dam.

So, the days passed slowly by and nothing changed for Aleron regarding his station. The days did go slower than usual for him since the placement of Falco at his side managed to bring the continuing weight of Montano's end that he still battled to keep in the background of his mind. Even when this plagued him, Aleron kept focused on his work for the Fort regardless of how unworthy it may be during this endless stage of idleness in the Mojave War. It wasn't until the end of July, 2281 that many of the thoughts he'd been trying to ignore caught up to him, and everything he went through since the end of Graham forced Aleron's consideration about who he was exactly.

Late July 2281

Aleron sat at his command desk within his command domicile, glancing out the window he had Gabriella create. The lake was really pretty from that little hill his tent occupied, and he sincerely considered going for a swim since the heat of the Mojave was horrid despite Gabriella still dutifully fanning him. He eventually glanced back at her from the window and gestured with his hand that he'd had enough and was permitting her to fan herself. Gabriella started fanning herself after graciously thanking Aleron for his kindness, something that was met with no response as his mind remained elsewhere. She considered asking about Aleron's internal state, and Aleron felt this unspoken question as well but refused to address it.

The Centurion didn't know that he would miss Veteran Decanus Soranus, but this little transfer of Aleron was one that he felt compelled to do given Falco's series of victories in the arena. Today was the day, and Aleron's only regret was that the situation with the ranger slave would have occurred to him earlier. Aleron thought that it would have been excellent for Falco to earn his way out of slavery by finally dealing with that "Stella" slave, but unfortunately, the idea occurred to him too late, and Otho already told Aleron that "Falcon" had won enough fights to earn the ability to serve. Aleron settled this minor frustration by reminding himself that Stella would fall to some other reputable legionary or individual another day.

So, Aleron had just returned to his domicile after hearing from Otho about Falcon's final victory and immediately dismissed his old senior, Decanus Soranus who left to oversee Montano's entrusted lands not more than five minutes prior to the current moment. There, Aleron waited for Falco/Falcon to return to his command domicile and report his success. Aleron briefly wondered how Falco would handle the reinstatement back to his old rank, but remembered that a legionary, ex-legionary or otherwise, was impossible to read beyond the telepathic level. Aleron reflected on the past weeks and how Falco had carried out all of his slave duties excellently, even taking several beatings from other legionaries without protest until he could relay who his master was to the amused aggressors. As excellent as Falco was as a slave, Aleron was able to read the man's subconscious mind the whole time which still emanated a supreme self-loathing. It was true that this feeling became less and less over the days, and it was almost non-existent when he was being humiliated, but it was still there and Aleron wondered if his plans for the man would increase or decrease that radiating feeling.

Either way, Falco was likely still getting himself cleaned up as Aleron sat there, and the centurion knew the man had a few other errands to see to before checking back in. So, Aleron motioned for Gabriella to split her use of the fan between himself and herself as Aleron resumed his current duties in waiting.

Opening up the stack of folders on his left, he briefly read the report and noted the progress on the excavation of those intake tunnels. He wished that there was more progress than he read, but it appeared that the blockage was far Far worse than originally expected when it was discovered months earlier and the excavation was still going steadily enough provided Caesar didn't plan on using them tomorrow. When Aleron read all he needed to, he pressed his stamp on the first page and tossed the folder onto the stack on his right.

"9 more to go now... I can only hope to Mars that the rest of these require more work," thought Aleron as he placed the next folder in his "To-do" stack in front of him.

Just then, he heard the flap to his tent open and Aleron looked up and didn't see Falco who he expected. Instead, Aleron saw his vexillarius enter the enclosure, step before him, hail the room, and Aleron immediately looked back at his folder as he asked, "What do you have for me, Decius?"

Aleron looked up as the vexillarius placed two more folders on his desk and heard the standard bearer say, "Two more for you, My Centurion..."

Aleron ignored the reports, briefly studying the flag carrier before asking sternly, "Anything more? I trust that you scanned through the reports as I instructed?"

"Yes, Centurion..." said the vexillarius militarily before adding, "Both directive reports require your address..."

As the vexillarius spoke, Aleron had already opened the two folders and spread them out. A brief glimpse at the top one showed a priority indicator, but Aleron was left bewildered by the other one. After giving it a once over, Aleron looked up at the vexillarius and asked him, "Perhaps my excellent vexillarius can enlighten me about the importance of this second one?"

"My Primus-" said the officer before Aleron interrupted with another read into the second report;

"How exactly is it my duty to address the issues of the midget slave brahmin tender of the Fortification Hill Interior!?"

Decius the vexillarius answered his centurion's inquiry, "My Centurion is the overseer of all matters regarding the operations of Fortification Hill..." Aleron remained staring at his subordinate menacingly, his eyes alone ordering the flag bearer to elaborate, "... From what I understood upon receiving the report, Veteran Decanus Antony, Master of Hounds for this front, does not wish to overstep his position regarding my Primus and only wishes for your approval to keep the contraband he acquired from the young slave girl under your jurisdiction."

Aleron looked back down at the report, read it a little more, and wondered how it was possible for Antony to draft up an entire report about a "Teddy bear" he confiscated from one of Aleron's Fortification Hill operational supply slaves: a young slave girl called "Melody." Aleron was half tempted to have Antony brought before him in chains and have him thrown in the pen for wasting Aleron's time. Basically, Antony was asking permission from Aleron to keep the confiscated toy bear because his hounds were enjoying the thing, and was asking for assurance that Antony did not overstep his bounds by reprimanding and punishing a slave that wasn't under his jurisdiction. Aleron didn't believe that any such report was ever drafted in the entire history of the Legion. Most legionaries treated slaves however they wanted and enacted punishment as they saw fit on the spot, with the only preventative measures for slave treatment being the slave's ability to relay the name of their master and current directive to any possible aggressors within a Legion camp. In the end, Aleron already wasted too much mental energy on this dilemma. The only thing about this degrading report that Aleron considered was the idea how Aleron must have been doing such a great job in his station that Antony would even feel the need to draft a report about possibly overstepping his bounds, even in such a minuscule way. For the briefest moment, Aleron considered actually reading through and putting legitimate effort in addressing the key notes of the report if only for a new way to keep busy in the idleness. Then, Aleron caught a glimpse of the stack on his left and the new "priority" report, and knew he had plenty more important things to do than put effort into a dilemma requiring no more than two seconds to solve. Decius saw the conclusion his centurion arrived at and Aleron turned up to his vexillarius when he heard the soldier ask;

"Shall I inform Antony that he acted in the right and did not overstep his bounds, My Primus?"

Aleron silently stared at him for six seconds before concluding the whole ordeal, "Yes." He was going to say that Decius should have said that before accepting the report for such a worthless waste of time, but he saw the look on Decius' face and knew the message was received and such a thing would not happen again. Aleron handed the report about the toy and hound master back to Decius and was going to shoo him off before he caught another glimpse of the report marked as a priority. Aleron motioned for the man to stay put and looked back down at the remaining report. Aleron skimmed the overview and let out an audible and curious, "Huh?..." before asking the deliverer;

"Who gave you this one?"

"Just a runner from the interior who appeared to have just come from there and knew you were my Primus." said the vexillarius.

Aleron continued reading the report and just the overview page alone stuck out to him. "Lord Caesar's mechanical mongrel has been found?... I didn't even know he went missing?..." Said Aleron, leaving his vexillarius wondering whether or not a response was necessary.

The centurion continued reading as he thought to himself, "... Gifted to Lord Caesar by Lord Interfector of Phoenix after successful combat trial in the Siege of Denver... Fought in the battle of... Colorado Wilderness, Brotherhood Campaign... Lost in battle during the Auxilia Campaign, June of 2276... Northwest Arizona... Last seen near garrison at Dry Wells, December of that year... Believed to be living with a dissolute gang leader in Vegas region, City of Freeside..."

Aleron flipped through the report showing pictures and sketches of the mechanical hound with notes to the identification marks and then skimmed the following documents that elaborated on the hound's short but illustrious service to Caesar. Aleron briefly thought back to that hound and how he was the one who found it. Aleron remembered the place in Denver he acquired it, then how well it performed in Montano's combat trial before handing it off to Lord Interfector to be given to the Emperor as a trophy from Denver. As interesting as it was, Aleron's recollection of Caesar's notable pet was cut short when the point of the report hit him. That being: There wasn't one.

Aleron looked up and asked the vexillarius, "... What am I supposed to do with this? I'm in charge of matters of the Fort's operation?"

Decius snapped from his idle trance in an instant and replied, "The runner did not relay a summary of the report and objective. He only said that my Centurion's input was required for a suggestion on further action..."

Just as Decius was done, Aleron was going to ask who specifically gave him the report, but instead flipped to the overview page and noticed a lack of any directives he was to act upon as the report's recipient. It was on that page however that Aleron just noticed the report was from Lucius himself, but even knowing that still left Aleron confused about what he was to do with this. Then the last sentence from Decius ran through his mind again and he tossed the closed report back on his desk as he said generally;

"... I guess?... I can see if there are any frumantarii in the region who can investigate further?..." Aleron thought some more before adding, "Maybe I can dispatch a trader or contractor to the city, or?..."

"An excellent idea, My Centurion," said Decius.

Aleron ignored the praise, and with his frustration beginning to grow at such strange new responsibilities, looked to the vexillarius and said, "... Ask around the Fort for any frumantarii who may be able to act on this 'report'. Tell them the instruction is from Lucius so they'll actually listen to you..."

Decius was about to affirm the order and set off when Aleron gestured for him to leave as he added, "And if you happen across Lucius or one of his runners you know, tell him I'd like to inquire about my directive regarding the hound further..."

The vexillarius acknowledged the command and set off. When the flap to his tent completely closed once more, Aleron turned back to his stack of To-Do reports, but as soon as he did, the tent flap opened again.

Aleron was about to lose it when in came Falcon/Falco. The slave entered and hailed Caesar as he knelt before the desk, and Aleron didn't mind this interruption. Aleron stood and a hint of invisible pride washed over him as he moved around the desk to stand before the kneeling Falco still partially spattered in the blood of the arena. After Aleron returned his hail, he motioned for Falco to raise his head and the man did so, meeting the eyes of Aleron who gave the unspoken permission to speak. Falco stated;

"Master, I have slain my adversaries in the arena and completed the remainder of my tasks before kneeling before you now. I am told by the arena master, Otho that my Master has new words for me regarding my victory."

"I do..." said Aleron as he stepped over to his cot and lifted the blade that was leaning against it before stepping back over to his place before Falco. Gabriella watched Aleron hold the blade in both his hands and saw her newest servant raise his head once more when Aleron was back in his place.

Aleron said simply, "Slave, from this point forward, you are to to be raised back to your prior rank of Veteran Decanus. Do to your remarkable series of victories in the Fortification Hill Arena, I have determined that you are absolved of your prior failures and require your placement in my staff. I trust that from your new position, you will only bring the Legion and myself more glory..."

Falco watched the blade get lowered towards him and was given the cue to accept it. Feeling the weight of the iron weapon in both hands, Falco did feel a sense of pride that completely erased his prior sensation of failure, even if it was only for a few moments. Falco would continue to struggle with the mercy extended to him, but Aleron knew this, having been there himself. Aleron thought back to the days after he and Montano's punishment when the Ajoans were destroyed and how he too struggled with the raise to the Interfector's staff and knew what Falco was unable to understand in the current moment: more time, more battles, more victories, and more glory will erase any failure. Falco continued to hold the blade before him as he knelt there in the current moment, grappling with the idea of his centurion's word vs the word of Caesar, who spoke on who's behalf in which setting, and how that lone contradiction paved the way for a road of glory that Aleron and Montano both tread throughout the years.

When all was done, Aleron ordered Falco to rise, saying that Falco was to be addressed as his new name for the time being, and that he was to wear his face covering at any time he was outside his Centurion's domicile. Then, Aleron raised his arm and pointed towards the chest in the corner of the tent, adding the final directive that Falco was to dress in the apparel befitting his new/old rank, and not look back.

As Falco got out of his slave rags and adorned himself in the armor of a veteran decanus, Aleron returned to his desk and back to the stack of reports. Aleron was very thankful for the short break from this menial work, but the feeling of dreadful idleness returned to him not long later. Sorting through supply lists and fortress inventories, Aleron read that Dale Barton was at the Fort again, and looked to Falco as he considered having the new staff officer bring in that man for inquiry. Moments later, Falco had finished strapping on the last of his armor, pushing the left shin plate into position before rising and approaching Aleron's desk for instruction. When the new officer stood before Aleron, the centurion reclined back in his chair, feeling the sensation of new pride and lingering self-loathing wage its war in the air around that decanus statue. At last, Aleron looked up at the crimson and steel clad devil, knowing the first order he'd give the man would be small, but would also be a step in the new direction of his service under Centurion Aleron.

"The trader, Dale Barton is at the Fort. Find him and ask if his return to the Fort comes with the howitzer firing mechanism I required him to retrieve from Yuma before his last departure. You are to inform him that I have waited long enough and saw him depart too many times for him to still be empty-handed regarding this matter. If the trader is without the desired part, or if he has not even been to Yuma in the past months, you are to bind him in chains and bring him before me for punishment." Aleron thought.

It was a simple order, but one that just needed to be done. Just as Aleron finished mentally crafting the order, he went to relay it to the new staff officer, "The-" but he was interrupted.

Aleron's attention turned to the tent flap, unable to see who was entering with the blinding light. Figuring it to be another interruption for some other worthless report that apparently required his attention, Aleron's frustration was instantly ended when he saw it was Lucius who had entered. Taken by the arrival of Lucius and two other praetorians, Falco remained like a statue facing his primus before Aleron caught the stern look on Lucius' face as he approached Aleron's desk. Aleron had never seen Lucius wearing an expression like that and was even more puzzled when Lucius stepped up and ordered to the room;

"Everyone but Centurion Aleron, leave, now."

Aleron nodded at Falco who still hadn't seen the arrival for focus on his centurion, but the nod from his primus immediately made Falco about face and leave with Gabriella. Aleron remained puzzled as Lucius stared at him and the two praetorians flanked the desk. The room was silent and Aleron found the silence worrying as he stared into the face of the man he reported to. Aleron heard the heavy tent flap swing to a close, taking the footsteps of Gabriella and Falco with it and Aleron was momentarily terrified that the look on Lucius' face came from knowledge about who exactly Aleron decided to spare and then promote. As this fear entered his brain, Aleron remained upright and full of conviction, ready to defend his decisions as well as accept the consequences of what they may entail. All of this worry and resolution in Aleron's mind came to a screeching halt when Lucius said to Aleron;

"Draft me a list of every doctor you've ever met or heard about during your time with the Lord Interfector. I need the list of every town from here to Roswell left standing after the Eastern Harvest Campaign. I already had a radio message sent to the current Praetor of Circle Junction for the same information but your time under the Interfector will fill any possible gaps in what the Praetor will return with..."

Although Aleron was relieved this meeting wasn't about Falco, the tone and message of the praetorian's delivery kept that worry there. Aleron listened intently as Lucius went on;

"... I also require the names of every independent trader who frequents this Front with medical expertise and surgical ability, as well as the names of any such trader who's gone west throughout the terror so the frumantarii can track them down. To assist you in this, I am dispatching four frumantarii agents to your direct charge that you will utilize for scouting local vaults and ancient army depots that know what to look for..."

Just then, Lucius withdrew another folder marked with a priority indicator and placed it on Aleron's desk. Lucius then motioned for Aleron to take a look at it and Aleron did so, still wondering what this was about, and wondering even more why the directive report only had two pages. Skimming the first page, there was no explanation of the directives, but the list of directives highlighted everything Lucius just said, with the addition of several ancient medications that were not considered contraband anymore. The second page only had an old photograph of a mechanical instrument with several arms sticking out of it at the base of a console. The heading above the picture said that the thing was called an "Auto-Doc" with various notes pointing to parts of the cross section.

As Aleron's eyes lingered on the page with the photo, Lucius added, "... The frumantarii I've given you will be looking for these 'auto-docs', but you are to issue them the location of these vaults and military bases when I've cross referenced your intel with that of Circle Junction. While you compile the information, I still need the list of our traders and doctors in both the east and west... Get it done, Centurion Aleron..."

Lucius turned to depart but halted when he saw Aleron's eyes still lingering on the pages with that confused expression. Aleron noticed that Lucius was still standing there, and looked up, realizing that he'd forgotten to acknowledge the order, "... Yes, Praetorian. I will see this done..."

Thinking that's what Lucius was waiting for, Aleron watched Lucius remain in place. Moments passed and the two continued to lock eyes, and Lucius showed no signs of his impending departure. Aleron studied the tremendous worry and urgency on the face of Lucius and several more moments passed in the silence. Although Lucius had no doubt that Aleron would accomplish the new directive, and even though he did not owe Aleron an explanation, the silence ended when both men were brought back to the present and Lucius said to Aleron;

"... Lord Caesar is sick... He remains fine at the moment, but he himself believes his demise is approaching..."

Aleron's face never changed, but the news hit Aleron's mind with a tsunami of dread. Aleron could only ask, "How long?"

Another momentary silence ensued as both men thought and battled the horrible news. Lucius finally said, "... Weeks, or maybe months if our Emperor is correct in his assessment, but his affliction is slowly getting worse."

Aleron replied immediately, "I'll see this done before anything else."

Lucius gave Aleron a small nod, his face still plagued with dread as he said, "I know you will..." He turned to depart when he stopped himself for the final time and said to Aleron, "You will not tell anyone what I have told you. The frumantarii I've dispatched to your charge already know, but discussion of this will never take place. Not your servant, not your staff, nobody is to know the nature of your orders regarding this matter."

Aleron said, "Understood, Praetorian..." and the tent flap swung to a close as the praetorians left.

Being left with such terrible news, Aleron immediately began collecting and drafting his necessary lists. The urgency of the matter saying that Aleron would have to inquire Lucius about the mechanical hound at some other time.