Chapter Four
The Shadow Lands, Kimaris Territory
Ghislaine's decision-making could often be described as reckless and foolish, but she rarely suffered consequences that could be considered severe.
However, tapping into her brother's mind may not have been the smartest idea.
"What. Did. You. Do?" The seething fury in Cyru's gaze gradually dissipated as he fought to regain his composure.
It would be incredibly hard to convince Cedric why his second eldest daughter was a bleeding corpse in his room, but Cyrus was inching closer to testing his luck.
Ghislaine tried to express no resistance, but the blade digging into her jugular made it problematic. The only option was to clearly explain her reasoning and pray he understood her thought process.
Otherwise, this situation would explode in a flurry of her own blood.
"I linked our minds," Ghislaine admitted wholeheartedly. "Just a tiny incursion to satisfy my curiosity is all. I didn't tear open your head and start playing with your insides as our parents did."
"You couldn't trust the word of your father?" Cyrus retorted with a spiteful tone.
"Our father." Ghislaine berated with an equal amount of venom. "Don't forget that he is half the reason you exist in the first place, Cyrus."
The blade inched ever deeper into her skin walkers, forcing Ghislaine to lean back and carefully reevaluate her following words.
Her mocking remarks may just be her last.
"The old man commanded you to leave it be," Cyrus stated firmly. "Why keep prodding at an issue that doesn't involve you."
"When you were born," the Nekoshu began tentatively. "Jade and I noticed something different about you. Our parents were too blinded by their adoration and didn't see it until recently. There was an edge….an aura almost. It didn't fit the innocence of a newborn child, Devil or not."
Ghislaine swallowed as the dagger settled just below the external vein. "Jade was confident you were a skin walkers-changer from House Nebiros. They have a predilection for infiltrating other Houses by fixing sleeper agents through a clan's offspring. It wouldn't be the first time those mongrels attempted to insert themselves inside our family hierarchy."
The Necromongers of House Nebiros excelled at infiltration, making them the perfect assassins and saboteurs for the loyalists.
When the Civil War started, Nebiros skin walkers were routinely sent into neutral territories to coerce or manipulate minor devil houses into serving the regime's cause.
Should these houses fail to rally under the Bashalum's banner, a series of unfortunate events would plague the ruling family until an accord was reached.
By accord, Ghislaine meant total allegiance to the satan clans, but those fools still had the gall to march into the Shadow Lands.
House Kimaris only devoted itself to Lucifer, and his death severed any ties between their clan and House Lucifer.
"I convinced her that you were different with a unique set of quirks, but after your outburst. We…didn't want to take that chance anymore." Ghislaine bowed her head in shame, an emotion that contrasted with her careless personality.
Crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion, and realization dawned on Cyrus of what precisely Ghislaine's action entailed.
This ambush wasn't just a moment of curiosity born of Ghislaine's impulsive nature. His elder siblings planned this incursion to uncover the truth of his rampage, which left a gnawing question.
If he momentarily incapacitated Ghislaine.
Where was Jade?
Shadows emerged from the corner of Cyrus's vision, but the moment he took his attention off Ghislaine, the Nekoshu made her move. She raised her feet and kicked off his hips, sending him back into two pairs of murky tendrils that immediately restrained him in a web of shadows.
A warm body pressed against Cyrus's back, and a limb glided to the dagger in his right hand. The blade was ripped from his grasp and haphazardly tossed toward an agitated Ghislaine.
"What took you so long?" The Nekoshu rubbed the thin cut along her esophagus, tossing one of her spare tunics over her torso.
"You told me you had it under control, remember?" Jade pronounced abruptly.
"I did, but I didn't think he could overpower me so easily." Ghislaine ghosted her right hand over the minor laceration with a concentrated dose of senjutsu.
"Did you find what we were looking for?" Jade eyed Cyrus with suspicion. As much as she loved her brother, the possibility he was the culmination of a Nebiros experiment was likely.
A few months before his birth, one of their skin walkers changers managed to infiltrate their territories and breach the palace before Eleamus and their guards killed him. It was the closest an outside force had ever come to breaching their fortress-monastery in the millennia since its construction.
"Cyrus is clean," Jade glanced at Ghislaine in disbelief.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Ghislaine stressed, waving her arms and removing Cyrus's restraints. "There's not a spec of their mana in him. Our brother is just…odd."
"And his memories." Jade was now grasping for straws because their actions went entirely against their father's directive.
Cedric ordered the pair to leave Cyrus alone for the time being, and they knowingly spat on his directives to sate their own curiosity.
"Nothing out of the ordinary." Jade turned away and cursed to herself, missing the subtle wink Ghislaine sent a frankly flabbergasted Cyrus.
Whatever confidence Jade mustered quickly fell under a shroud of humiliation. She couldn't quite believe the possibility he wasn't an inception of a Nebiros scheme, but her sister would never lie to her.
Jade wished the world would swallow her whole because now she had to contend with the excruciating scenario of begging for her brother's forgiveness and mending their fractured bonds. Ghislaine may have gone through with the plan, but she remained adamant that Cyrus wasn't a threat to their family.
However, as the heir to House Kimaris, every potential adversary needed to be screened, processed, and analyzed without delay. Jade has never left anything to chance, and there was no exception regarding the family's security.
Cyrus rubbed at his wrists, eyeing both women with barely restrained contempt. The pieces to their reasoning were easy to pick up on, and he couldn't blame them for their ignorance.
His actions in the gardens and his sudden lack of control would scare anyone with half a mind.
Cyrus didn't expect this kind of initiative or patience from Jade or Ghislaine.
The pair had every opportunity to crack open his mind during his coma, but they waited until Cedric took his attention off him to execute their plot. The Spartan in Cyrus admired their patience and strategy, while the Headhunter in him loathed that he was taken entirely unaware, once again blinded by rage.
But that didn't mean he wasn't pissed right now.
Jade stepped forward, mustering what little courage remained to apologize for their brazen actions. "Cyrus, I-"
"What would you have done if I was a Nebiros sleeper agent?" Jade stammered in uncertainty, unable to find the proper words to explain what she would have done to him if such a scenario had presented itself.
Ghislaine, however, had no such reservations.
"We would have killed you." Ghislaine cringed when Cyrus sent a scathing glance in her direction. "A Nebiros sleeper agent has no free will because they aren't sentient. Every decision they make is made by the pull of a Nebiros skin walkers-changer. Only death frees them from their shackles."
Jade followed her sister's words, attempting to relieve some of the burden off Ghislaine's shoulders. "After, father exited your mind. I brought up the likely scenario you were a sleeper agent that prematurely executed your directive to Ghislaine. Father disagreed and lied when we inquired what caused your rampage."
"And you didn't trust him because our father has a weak spot for his kids?" The sheer audacity it took to go against a House Patriarch's orders was well-known by Cyrus.
The hierarchy inside the main houses was a dictatorship that revolved around its head. No clan member was permitted to go against their orders under any circumstances and to do so invited retribution.
Devil culture was the essence of might makes right, and both his sisters knew the price they would pay if Cedric discovered their ignorance.
Cyrus could respect the courage in their actions, especially if it were done not for their benefit but for their families.
Still, his fury was palpable, and he made his displeasure known with a voice made of pure steel.
"Get out." Both women flinched at his harsh tone, and Jade had no heart to speak any more words in his presence.
She was the first to exit his room with a shame-filled gait in her step as her body melted into the darkened hallway.
Ghislaine paused at the door, searching for words to ease his frustrations.
She naively believed her senjutsu could provide him some peace, but the moment she tried, a withering glare sent her into retreat.
Once Ghislaine disappeared, Cyrus took a deep calming breath. There would be a reckoning between them in the future, but as of right now, he didn't want to talk to any of these 'Devils.'
He hadn't been able to properly digest the disbelief of discovering his 'family' weren't aristocrats from the dark ages.
No, they were the entities parents would often utilize to scare their misbehaving children into obedience. Mythological creatures that looked, smelled, and possessed human traits, but in reality, they were anything but.
They were Devils.
And so was he.
The Spartan gradually sat in front of his mirror, clutching the hidden dagger that Ghislaine left behind in her hasty retreat.
The reality that he was no longer human became an undeniable circumstance that catalyzed his rampage. He dedicated his life to Humanity, fulfilling that responsibility in every regard until his last breath.
Was his duty to Humanity genuinely null and void with his passing?
Or did it extend to the next chapter of a far different life?
Cyrus gazed into the mirror, picking out the crimson eyes that stared back at him with an intensity that had never wavered, even in the face of certain death on numerous occasions.
The Covenant may have destroyed his Spartan body and sent him into the confines of a different cadaver, but they never broke his spirit.
He'd killed thousands of genocidal aliens and butchered his way through hundreds of insurrectionists, all in a bid to extend the human race's doomsday clock.
From the shattered heights of Arcadia to the glassed-out remains of Minab, Cyrus never faltered or shied away from his duty to Humanity.
And he wouldn't start now.
A familiar voice from a man whose iron will and dedication shaped the cadets of Project Chrysanthemum echoed in Cyrus's mind. Chief Mendez was an unrelenting taskmaster who mixed physical and mental doctrines until they seamlessly blended as a potent training system.
'One day, Spartans, you'll wake up flat on your face with no weapon, no ammo, and no MJOLNIR to save your lives.' A decade later, Cyrus can still recall Mendez tearing into Beta Company because of their lack of imagination.
The Chief often ran war games between the Cadets and ODSTs to exalt the essential needs of teamwork and initiative. Where their predecessors in Alpha Company excelled, Beta faltered once their carefully crafted strategy fell apart.
'On that day, you will recognize that the most potent weapon in your arsenal isn't your firearm or physical attributes. It will be the organic matter trapped between your ears, and when you realize that, you will become unstoppable. If there's a problem, solve it. If there is an obstacle, remove it. Nothing can stand in your way, and nothing will stand in your way.'
Cyrus quietly mused to himself that there were three objectives that he needed to address.
Objective One, evaluate these Devils and determine if they threaten the human race.
Cedric partially answered this query already.
During the Great War, his Legion took thousands of humans from their homes and turned them into slaves. The only saving grace that House Kimaris had was that their human attendants were not treated harshly, but the same could not be said for other Devil households.
That would be corrected either through words or blood.
Objective Two, uncover the geopolitical landscape of Devil politics and how to manipulate it.
These devils are a martial people whose political system resembled the ancient feudal societies of Earth but with a substantial focus on military doctrine and a near-obsessive desire for power. These are traits that Cyrus could easily exploit for his own gain, but first, he needed an education on Devil society and its expansive history.
Objective Three, secure the future of Humanity by any means necessary.
Cyrus would not tolerate anything less.
Unfortunately, he lacked the power, influence, and knowledge to complete his prime directives.
With newfound determination, Cyrus stood on his toes and resolved to begin his crusade tomorrow. He could achieve little in this untrained form, but that issue can be promptly resolved.
A good Headhunter needs to be patient with his prey, and his sights were sent on an entire species.
All Cyrus needed was time and opportunity, all of which were out of his grasp.
For now.
l==l
As Cyrus would learn, Devils have a flair for the dramatic.
Over thirty thousand guardsmen of the 66th Legion were neatly organized into a parade formation six rows in width and almost a mile long. Surrounding them were hundreds of thousands of bystanders, who stood at rapt attention as the Patriarch of House Kimaris presided over his Guardsmen.
Cyrus carefully scrutinized the Black Guards of House Kimaris as he and his sister galloped past their formation. Each guardsman is wrapped in a black traveling cloak covering their finely crafted carapace and shrouding their features in imperceivable darkness.
He could pick out a five-foot-long lance comprised of an underworld alloy called Griycium. The spear appears to be tuned for close-range combat at a glance, and an uneducated adversary would rightly assume the 66th Legion possessed limited long-range capability. However, a Guardsman can focus their demonic energy into the weapon and fire ionized plasma at targets up to 600 meters in distance.
In their left hand was a black handheld shield that provided their user protection from head to the lower torso while also containing a hitch to mount their energy lances on.
In short, the Blackguards of Kimaris present an intimidating foe for any to face in open battle. The Legion's reputation in the underworld is second to none, and they have carved their name into the very stones of history with their triumphs in the Great War.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Ghislaine's comment drew Cyrus's attention away from their soldiers.
"Dangerous is more appropriate." He found no beauty in the Guardsmen of House Kimaris, only a potential adversary. A whimsical smile crossed Ghislaine's seductive features, and a silent hum fell from her lips.
"You'd better get used to them because you will take command of the Legion sooner or later." Cyrus frowned in discomfort, eyeing the rows upon rows of devil soldiers.
"I'm not a commander, Ghislaine."
"Not yet, you're not."
Cyrus and his family remained at the head of the procession while their father inspected almost every single one of his guardsmen. Cyrus, Ghislaine, Jade, and Elerin were each given a black horse to sit on while the rest of their family stood silently in front of them.
He found it amusing that Devil's even cultivated warhorses, considering they all retained wings and could easily outpace the stallions. But, as with all things, horses signified a higher social standing and were permitted solely for the image instead of practical means.
The members of House Kimaris were garbed in finely crafted formal wear with a light grey coloring with shades of black, signifying their house's primary colors.
It was evidently a long-standing tradition for the Patriarch of House Kiamris to vigorously inspect his Centurions and their cohorts before a deployment.
Usually, Cyrus didn't care for any of this, but his elder siblings made it a point to stand on either side. Despite the tense conversation that took place no less than twelve hours earlier, the pair went about like it had never happened.
Whether this was to prevent Arwen or Elerin from becoming curious at their sudden icy relationship, he would never know.
Ghislaine found the whole procession a complete waste of time, and for once, Cyrus agreed with her.
"How much longer is this going to take?" The Nekoshu mussed loud enough for only Cyrus and Jade to hear.
"Last time, it took around two hours." Jade's reply earned a sigh of frustration from his sister. "Right now, we're sitting around hour number one."
"I don't know how long I can stand these dramatic proceedings." Ghislaine made the unfortunate mistake of speaking too loudly.
"You are an example of our House, Ghislaine," Elerin sharply hissed. "So do keep your back straight and your comments to yourself."
The Nekoshu cowed under her mother's scolding remarks, emitting a humorous chuckle from their siblings. Cyrus, however, remained intentionally silent because Ashara was staring holes into the side of his face with an unreadable expression.
He tried to apologize for the harm he inflicted upon her, but she pointedly ignored him. Once it became clear that he would get nowhere in his confession, he abandoned any thoughts of clearing the air between them.
Between Ghislaine and Jade, Ashe was the only one who had stood by his side from birth until now. Even if he didn't want it, her constant presence instilled some form of bond that mirrored his own with their elder siblings.
Cyrus couldn't rightly explain how such a thing was possible.
He surmised that during the haze that was his time as a newborn, he subconsciously formed a connection with those family members that spent the most time around him.
It would explain why he didn't particularly feel anything for the twins or Arwen, even if they adored him to no end before the incident.
Thankfully for Cyrus's ears, Cedric wrapped up the ceremony with a grand speech exemplifying the qualities of the 66th Legion. He found the entire address an amusing prospect of sending nearly ten thousand men and women into the jaws of war with false promises of glory and honor.
As the Legion marched, so did the assigned member of House Kimaris. Cedric gave Arwen a yearning kiss and embraced his youngest daughters, who failed to keep the tears from their eyes.
All the while, Cyrus awkwardly stood between the invisible cage Jade and Ghislaine created around him.
"Not one for heartache, boy?" Ghislaine murmured into his ear.
"Father isn't dead yet," Cyrus retorted, driving his elbow into her side and forcing her back. "They cry like he is walking into certain death."
"They cry because they care," Jade scolded, turning her emerald eyes toward them in mild derision. "A virtue that both of you should exhibit."
Ghislaine raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, we're following him into the fucking war. As far as I'm concerned, I'll save my tears for when he actually bites the dust."
"I'm delighted to hear that my demise could provoke such an emotional response from you, daughter." The Kimaris Patriarch approached his gossiping offspring with a somber Arwen tucked into his neck. "Take your brother to the honor guard and keep an eye on him."
Cyrus bristled at the suggestion that he was a careless child, and his hands instinctively clenched. Ghislaine tenderly gripped his shoulder, infusing his frayed nerves with her calming essence.
"Guardsmen!" Eleamus's voice echoed across the territory, and every Guardsman responded with the roar of twelve thousand spears smashing into the ground below.
"Air adhart gu Cogadh!" As one, the 66th Legion marched into the long night amongst the silent well-wishes of their families and friends.
This civil war would be their first taste of conflict for a few Guardsmen, but for many, this would be little more than another brutal campaign under their belts.
While Cedric said his final goodbyes to Arwen and her children, Ghislaine dragged her younger sibling to the Legion's honor guard. Jade followed in their wake, eyeing the rank and file as they marched in formation.
The territories of Acheron were, at minimum, a three-day journey from the Shadow Lands, and the Legion would have to take the treacherous route over the abandoned marshlands of Berith.
The House of Berith was one of the few Devil clans to forsake their ancestral home due to the costs of the Great War. The casualties inflicted upon them left their coffers empty, and their Legion decimated to barely a handful of soldiers.
It was a journey that Cyrus was looking forward to.
The affluent confines of their fortress-monastery had begun to grate on his nerves, and walking unfamiliar lands was a welcome change to his otherwise stale life.
He never did enjoy the comforts of abundance.
l==l
The Blighted Marshlands, Berith Territory
After two days of sluggish marching, the 66th Legion camped on the outskirts of this desolate marshland. The Centurions hounded their subordinates every step of the way because hiding within the dense foliage were creatures born out of nightmares.
They were eerily similar to the Sangheili in stature but remained a feral collection of beasts that hid in the shadows with razor-sharp teeth and claws. A few unfortunate Guardsmen separated from their compatriots were never seen again save for their dying screams in the distance.
"Glad we're out of that fucking nightmare," Ghislaine tossed her form-fitting top onto her bedding. "Can't believe the old man made us travel through the marshlands."
"Our father," Jade emphasized while stowing her weapons. "Made the decision because we need to reach Acheron in a timely manner. The Loyalists have been conducting raids along the frontline for weeks, and with Azuraki dead, those raids will turn into full-blown incursions soon."
"Tell that to the twenty guardsmen we lost to the Gaiseadh."
Cyrus watched his elder siblings fall into one of their patented arguments from his bedding. He was forcefully lodged with the pair by order of their father for protection.
Two honor guards from the 1st Cohort were posted in front of their tent, and Ghislaine continually expressed her ire for this security detail with vitriol.
Cedric dismissed her griping and directed her attention to Jade, who pointedly looked elsewhere. The pair argued over random and otherwise inconsequential topics during their march.
Cyrus suspected that their constant disputes stemmed from their actions against him days earlier.
For her own reasons, Ghislaine lied about what she witnessed and covered for Cyrus and his oddities.
Jade wouldn't understand unless she experienced what the Nekoshu saw firsthand, but the point remained that they both lost what inkling of trust he had in them, and that frustrated Ghislaine above all else.
The Spartan was preparing to turn in for the night, but the flap to their tent swung open, and Eleamus's carapace helmet poked in. Jade was the first to demand an answer to his sudden interruption, and the Praetor diligently responded.
"Lord Cedric requests his son's presence." All eyes immediately snapped to Cyrus, who grumbled to himself as he tossed the warm blankets off him.
"Did he say why?" Ghislaine's inquiry held a hint of concern.
"He did not." Cyrus wrapped a black cloak around his adolescent form. The marshlands were impossibly cold during the night, and he did not fancy experiencing the frozen winds on his cheek.
He strode past his siblings without a word, each sporting inquisitive and concerned expressions. Jade wanted to say something to Cyrus but paused halfway through, opting not to draw attention to herself.
A wave of chilling winds bit at Cyrus's clothing as he exited the tent behind Eleamus. The marshland's frozen nights were as infamous as they were inhospitable, and a thick fur cloak shielded every guardsman from the harsh elements.
The encampment was a cacophony of ironworks, marching soldiers, and hushed conversations. Cohorts were assigned perimeter duty while the rest entered a mixed state of moderation and combat readiness.
Those few who weren't distracted with their duties stared into Cyrus's back with trepidation or caution. The rumors surrounding the hair of House Kimaris reached far and wide through the ranks of the 66th Legion.
Most Guardsmen felt a freezing chill creep up their spines when they looked upon him. Even the vaunted members of the elite First and Second Cohort, the Shadow Keepers and Sons of Kimaris respectively, were affected by his presence.
Cyrus ignored the whispers and the mixed gazes the best he could, and thankfully for his sanity, the Centurions growled at their underlings to get back to work.
Eleamus was not blind to the attention drawn to his master's heir apparent, but he declined to comment. He had little interest in the rumors or speculations that plagued every collection of soldiers.
The pair finally reached Cedric's war tent, guarded by several of his Elite Night Wardens. Their numbers seldomly exceeded twenty, but each was an army in its own right.
They differentiate themselves from the rank and file with thicker, more ornate carapace armor and forgoing the handheld shield given to every Guardsman.
A Night Warden's only armament is the ionized lance and the skills they have acquired over centuries of warfare.
They are a handpicked cadre of Black Guardsmen assigned to protect the members of House Kimaris at all times. Each is honor-bound to obey the Shadow Lord's commands, keep his secrets, counsel him when invited, and remain silent when not—their brutal and efficient training results in only one of twenty candidates surviving the selection process.
After selection, they take their oath of complete servitude to House Kimaris, and no matter the circumstance, there is always one Night Warden in the shadows of those they protect.
They are led by a demon called Zakan, who has served alongside Cedric since the Shadow Lord's inception a millennia ago. Many have moved to remove the older Devil from his prestigious status as the First Warden, but none have matched his ferocity.
As Cyrus moved toward his father's tent, his path was unceremoniously blocked by a pair of crossing lances. He could practically feel the restrained anger rolling off Eleamus as his eyes bore into the Night Warden to their left.
"Zakan?" Eleamus's warning tone put Cyrus on edge. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Lord Cedric is currently in a war council." Zakan and his compatriot slowly retracted their lances under Eleamus's withering glare. "Remain silent until the proceedings are finished."
Cyrus became a spectator to a battle of wills between the First Warden and the Legion's Praetor. He was no stranger to rivalries between different military branches; the rapport between ODST and Spartans wasn't exactly cordial.
Neither Devil was willing to back down. Zakan refused out of an overzealous desire to protect his Lord, and Eleamus out of indignation at the Warden's perceived insolence.
"I understand." Cyrus's words drew the pair's attention, allowing cooler heads to prevail before the demons could come to blows. "May I enter?"
Zakan nodded sharply toward Cyrus, and he wasted no time entering the massive war tent. Eleamus chose not to follow in his wake, opting to wait outside for his own reasons.
Cedric's command tent was everything a military leader needed. The interior was sparse and contained little decorations or extravagant fabrics. At its center stood a topographical map illustrating the exact position of Rebel and Loyalist forces. Surrounding the table was a bed comfy enough to smother away the stress of leadership and enough luxuries to keep them occupied.
Cyrus's gaze settled upon his mother, who stood in quiet vigil as Cedric conversed with the Tribunes now under his command. His crimson gaze found half a dozen devils that gave off waves of potent and dense demonic energy.
There was a power that Cyrus was not accustomed to dealing with, and despite their red holographic forms, he still felt the sheer energy weighing down on his shoulders.
The Covenant would have worshipped them as deities to their misbegotten religion.
As Cyrus approached his mother's side, he caught the final words uttered by a blonde-haired devil bearing the insignia of the Phenex House on his right shoulder.
"….37th Legion have taken position east of the Aranda river. We have lost Acheron's western territories, and the 2nd Legion is in full retreat." A crimson-haired devil bearing the emblem of the House of Gremory spoke up.
"That is no surprise Lord Phenex. With Primarch Azaraki's death, House Agares is in shock. We cannot rely on the 2nd Legion until their heir has returned from the human world."
While the Tribunes gave their reports to Cedric, Cyrus scrutinized the features of each high-class Devil, and the knowledge he acquired from the litany of records kept in House Kimaris's archive came in handy.
Names ghosted to the front of his mind as his eyes registered each Devil standing around the war table.
Sirzechs Lucifer, the commandant of the 56th Legion and tribune of the Northern Taskforce, comprised of the 7th, 16th, 44th, 59th, and 71st Legions.
Zekram Bael, Patriarch of the 1st Legion, commanded the Southern Taskforce involving the 3rd, 62nd, 36th, and 8th Legions.
Ajuka Astaroth was appointed commander of the 29th Legion by his father, the late Lord Astaroth, and was subsequently in charge of the Western Taskforce consisting of the 30th, 47th, and 34th Legions.
Zargath Phenex, Patriarch of the 37th Legion, commanded the Eastern Taskforce comprising the 32nd, 68th, and 50th Legions.
Lastly was the sole woman of the gathered tribunes in the form of the infamous Serafall Sitri. She commanded the reserve Taskforce led by the 12th Legion alongside the entirety of the 13th, 65th, and 24th Legions.
Each Devil is a mixture of the old guard and new blood. Zekram, Zargath, and Cedric have centuries of experience leading men into battle, while Ajuka, Sirzechs, and Serafall brought a fresh perspective with near-unlimited firepower.
Truly Cyrus was amongst gods and demons now.
"What is clear." The aged features on Zekram Bael's face betrayed the power in his voice. "Is that Azaraki overplayed his hand and has placed us in a precarious situation. I cautioned him to avoid directly engaging with Grayfia Lucifuge and her Incaris Legions."
"It matters not what Azaraki's action has done to us." Cedric retorted sharply. "What matters now is plugging the gap in our line. We may have the loyalist territories surrounded, but that does not mean we should underestimate their forces. You, of all people, should know that Zekram." The Bael growled at the subtle jab but said nothing in return.
"With Lord Glasya-Labolas and his Legions occupied with garrisoning our territories, it falls to use to handle this predicament." Cedric turned his attention to a patiently waiting Serafall, who studied the war table.
"Lady Sitri, dispatch the 24th and 65th Legions to close the gap between Lord Phenex and Lord Bael's armies. I do not doubt that Bashalum will seek to exploit our momentary weakness with 3rd and 4th Incaris Legions."
"As you say, Primarch," Serafall replied before biting her lower lip. "Where should I commit the rest of my reserves?"
"Have them reinforce our Northern Taskforce. Tereaku Leviathan will seek to remove Sirzechs Legions from the siege at Tophet. I want you and your Legionnaires ready to fight when that happens."
"It will be done." A pair of pink orbs danced towards the Gremory Heir. "It'll be nice to serve alongside you again, Zechs."
"I look forward to it." Cedric ignored the byplay between the tribunes and turned towards the rest of his council.
"Is there anything else we need to discuss?" Several heads shook no, and Cedric breathed a muted sigh of relief. "Good, my Legion and I will be arriving within the next few days, and I expect you and your Praetors to be present in Acheron upon my arrival."
This was not a request for them to disregard, and none were willing to challenge Cedric's directive.
"We are adjourned." With his final piece said, the Primarch dismissed his war council for the week, and the pressure in the room began to subside with each tribune's departure.
After what felt like hours, Cedric's attention fell upon his first wife and only son. "I apologize for the delay. This civil war is far more precarious than I first believed."
Elerin placed a soft hand on Cyrus's shoulder, a comforting smile gracing her lips before Cedric pulled her gaze.
"Give us the room, Elerin."
The Matriarch reluctantly released her grip at her husband's command and exited his tent to make use of herself elsewhere. Cyrus followed her retreating form momentarily as Cedric sought to engage him in conversation.
"Have you been to many war councils?" The Primarch noticed the hesitation to converse about his past so openly. "Not to worry, Cyrus, no one else can hear you outside this tent. In here, we can speak openly without the worry of unwanted listeners."
"No…..I have not." The Spartan replied hesitantly.
His time as a headhunter did not afford him the capacity to observe his superior's strategy on anything less than a tactical level.
"Most of the time, it's little more than navigating politics between Houses," Cedric remarked, motioning towards a cluster of chairs at a separate table. "Take a seat. I have questions, and so do you."
Cyrus sat opposite his father, scrutinizing his surroundings for a snare or trap on pure instinct. Cedric summoned a red wine on instinct pouring its contents into a pair of opulent chalices.
"Your mother still worries…." Cyrus's brows furrowed as a chalice was pushed in his direction, and Cedric snorted in amusement. "…. You're a devil, Cyrus. We are not as restrictive as human society."
"So I've noticed." Cyrus thumbed his chalice with a concerted gaze before drinking its contents. A soothing sweet aftertaste graced his taste buds as his father mimicked his actions.
A tense hush reign over the Kimaris men for some time. Neither desired to extinguish the silence and focused more on their drinks than on one another.
Eventually, Cyrus grew tired of the delay and directly engaged Cedric with poignant words.
"What do you want to know?"
The next words out of Cedric's mouth gave him pause.
"Tell me about the Covenant."