Chapter Six
Antora, Lucifaad Territory
A year went by like a dream for Cyrus.
The 66th Legion may have been on campaign, but he spent most of his time sharpening his reflexes and absorbing the knowledge necessary to master his ancestral power.
Ghislaine was his main point of contact in that regard.
Her comprehension of his family's Ceàird sgàil, Shadow Craft in the common tongue, was second to Cedric.
She applauded Cyrus for his perseverance while reprimanding him for his sub-par understanding. Her teaching method mirrored Cedric's, emphasizing ruthless manipulation of the darkness and subjugating it to his will.
However, he felt an odd sensation overtake him each time his infernal energy mixed with the shadows. Ghislaine characterized the darkness as a living entity that resisted them at every turn, but he did not feel such defiance.
On the contrary, the shadows cocooned around him in a protective shroud, wanting and craving his demonic essence. When Cyrus tried to impose his will upon the darkness, it disappeared, alarmed and confused by his actions.
The Spartan had to contend with a perplexing mix of emotions and sensations, but he eventually manipulated the shadows to his will like any other scion of House Kimaris.
Ghislaine either misread or ignored the strange reactions, preferring to move on to more sophisticated techniques that demanded tremendous knowledge and vitality to execute.
The Nekoshu pushed his adolescent body to the breaking point, motivating him with scathing inadequacies that nipped at his pride as a Devil and a Spartan.
He achieved minimal success in mastering the techniques known as Sgàil Folach and Dubhra Sleagh- Hidden Shadow and Dark Javelin - alongside a few demonic spells of varying functions.
Still, Cyrus was far from matching Cedric's martial prowess, especially with his complete mastery of House Kimaris's potent demonic form.
Dubhra Sligeach, Dark Carapace, is the backbone of the Kimaris arsenal.
It encases its user in a hardened exoskeleton and transforms them into a traditional Demon by Devil and Human standards. Few weapons can pierce its outer shell, and each time Cedric takes to the field, his Dubhra Sligeach strikes fear into the hearts of all who stand against him.
The older members of House Kimaris, such as Ashara, Jade, and Ghislaine, were a notch below Cedric's capabilities. Its youngest, such as the twins and Cyrus, were still milling about in the novice territory, but Cyrus was making startling progress out of that tier.
It should have frightened Ghislaine somewhat, but her endearment only seemed to grow with each successful test. Cyrus had other responsibilities within the encampment by Cedric's order, which saved him from being suffocated by the overly affectionate Nekoshu's attention.
He spent his duties shadowing the Legion's Camp Praetor and understanding the critical aspects of warfare logistics within a Devil Legion. Unlike humans, Devils didn't need to consume daily amounts of food or water to keep their bodies from crashing.
They could go weeks, if not months, without any nutrition so long as they satisfied one of their sins.
Azol, the camp praetor, explained this process as vaguely as possible because it was an insignificant detail in his mind.
Cyrus's queries regarding this subject were immediately answered after he stumbled upon Ghislaine satisfying her sin of Lust with a female Centurion from the 5th Cohort.
He would eternally wish he hadn't walked in on her deviancies, but Ghislaine's shameless antics aside, Cyrus was given an exceptional education on a Legion's organization and its inner workings.
By the end of their first month together, Cyrus subsidized more than half of the camp praetor duties, allowing Azol to treat their increasingly over-extended supply chain.
The Lucifaad campaign was entering its second year, and the civil war only seemed to escalate in brutality after the razing of Gehenna.
Cedric's desire for a tactical victory by flattening the border city en route to Lucifaad met with initial success.
The razing of Gehenna severely impacted the morale of many Loyalist Nobles whose holdings lay at the vanguard of the Renegade assault.
Dozens of small towns gradually fell under Cedric's control without bloodshed or resistance. The ruling nobility wisely capitulated as Renegade Legionnaires approached their gates, and they had no inclination to watch their homes burn under the Shadow Lord's gaze.
This campaign of rapid dominance finally came to a head in an open field fifty miles east of Lucifaad called Ashfell.
Ten Incaris Legions drew a line in the sand after weeks of rearguard action. Bashalum ordered his Praetor Grayfia Lucifuge to halt Cedric's progress and turn back the Renegade Legions before they reached Lucifaad proper.
Cedric drew his forces from Lords Gremory, Phenex, and Baels Corps, gathering a full strength of fourteen Infernal Legions upon the amber fields of Ashfell.
Over a million Devils took part in the battle, and the 66th Legion lay at the forefront of Cedric's relentless assault upon the Loyalist battle line. Infernal bolts and demonic energy filled the skies over Ashfell as Cohorts slammed into one another in a blood-filled rage.
The battle was not limited to the ground; specialized units took to the skies in an effort to establish air superiority for their respective sides.
A flashing light briefly obscured Cyrus's vision, and the scene was so visceral that he found himself momentarily lost under the blazing beams of a Covenant Cruiser.
These moments were few and far between, but they continued to plague him even as the battle concluded.
Cyrus watched from the safe confines of a triage center five miles from its epicenter as thousands of Renegade Legionnaires streamed into the camp with vicious wounds. Some were missing limbs, others had their skin peeling off their bodies, and a select unfortunate few were irreparably damaged by a demonic power that fused their armor and flesh into bundles of frozen ice.
Grayfia Lucifuge was a nightmare on the battlefield, and her battle with Sirzechs Gremory became a legendary display of ruin and ice that would be reviewed for millennia.
After two days of vicious fighting, the Renegade flag flew over the blood-soaked plains of Ashfell, but the cost had been heavy.
Over two hundred thousand devils were killed or wounded in the battle, leaving the victor to deal with the piles of their dead kin.
Cedric ordered the dead be cremated with full military honors, a politically motivated decision given that several of the Loyalists who perished possessed ties to the Noble Families who had surrendered to the Renegades.
Whether the political maneuvering worked was irrelevant, propaganda would ensure that the Shadow Lord's reputation for butchery and mercy reached the ears of Loyalist Nobles and soldiers alike.
As Cedric's Legions marched on Lucifaad, their path was blocked by dozens of fortified redoubts and outposts designed to bleed their overall strength before reaching the capital.
Bashalum's delaying tactic differed from his stubborn personality, but the full extent of his strategy wasn't realized until Cedric's Legions settled in for a prolonged siege of the capital.
The 66th and a pair of Lord Phenex's Legions were stationed at the town of Antora, a city ten miles from the capital, functioning as the primary staging ground for the siege of Lucifaad.
The Loyalists hadn't bothered to put up a fight and allowed the 30th Legion belonging to the House of Forneus to walk in uncontested.
Bashalum did not seek the glorious final engagement he was known for, and Cedric became concerned that the Loyalist Primarch was being counseled by one of his least temperamental Praetors.
Grayfia Lucifuge was a candidate considering the political and martial influence she gathered during the Great War, but Bashalum regarded her as little more than a failed bodyguard seeking redemption.
The architect of the Loyalist exodus following Ashfell remained unknown until Cedric's Legions were victimized by a series of small-scale ambushes aimed at their Praetor and Primus Legionnaires.
House Nebiros had their paws all over these sudden and violent attacks on Renegade OFficers. Their agents were deeply embedded in the occupied cities, and Cedric's Legions had difficulty rooting them out.
Several overzealous cohorts exacted vengeance on the local populace when their Primus Legionnaires were killed, inflaming tensions and prompting an influx of furious civilians to join the loyalist cause.
At least, that's what Cyrus inferred while spectating the war council led by his father. Cyrus had just returned from overseeing a stream of weapons and armor from the forge works of Tophet.
The council consisted of every Tribune, and their Praetors gathered around a detailed war table of Lucifaad and the surrounding territories. Cedric sat at the head of the table, with Lords Gremory and Bael on either side.
Elerin and Cyrus remained steadfast over Cedric's shoulder, quietly observing the war council as the Tribunes deliberated over the past week.
"These attacks on our outlying patrols and supply line are becoming increasingly frequent." Instead of exchanging pleasantries with his fellow Praetors, Zekram Bael delved into the reasons for this emergency meeting.
The commander of his Legion's first Cohort had been killed by Nebiros agents, and the Noble was outraged at the loss of his most seasoned field commanders.
"Why are we incapable of locating these insurgents?" Lord Phenex commented. "We have almost two dozen Legions searching the city and the outskirts, and we have come away with nothing but more casualties."
"House Nebiros is one of the few clans proficient in unorthodox warfare." Ajuka Astaroth, the Renegade's chief tactician, stepped forward. "Their skinwalkers are a dangerous asset, and we lack the means and personnel to route them out."
"Our Primus Legionnaires are their primary targets," Sirzechs added. "House Nebiros knows that attacking one of us or our Praetors is a useless gesture, so they are targeting our Cohort Commanders. Several of my Captains have already been killed by skinwalkers and insurgents embedded with the local population."
"House Nebiros knows the internal workings of our Legions to the tee." Cedric drew all eyes as he strode towards the war table. "I fought alongside Viktor Nebiros during the siege of Heaven. His talents lay in deception and speed of movement, all traits our Legions are not accustomed to adapting to."
Viktor Nebiros. The name pricked at his memory.
Cyrus had found a kindred spirit amongst the Devils in Viktor Nebiros. He'd never spoken or met his fellow clan heir, but Viktor's style of warfare was leagues above standard devil doctrine.
House Nebiros was one of the few Devil clans that did not adopt a traditional Legion organization. They separated their forces into dozens of teams that acted independently of one another.
Cyrus surmised that the only chain of command the agents retained came from Viktor himself. This loose command structure prevented any information leaks and kept their enemies off-balance.
Their modus operandi revolved around sowing fear and confusion amongst their foes. It is common practice for skin-changers to ensure that communication between their targets is cut off, isolating Cohorts and exposing them to infiltration.
It is rare that Nebiros agents voluntarily fight a force able to withstand their might. They prefer to attack weakened or isolated units and refuse to give quarter or mercy to their adversaries.
They were an exceptional force during the grinding war of attrition that was the Great War.
Demonic Legions rarely engaged in otherwise dishonorable tactics, leaving asymmetric warfare to House Nebiros.
Nebiros skin walkers discovered and relayed vital intelligence to their Legions that proved critical to several Devil victories over their heavenly cousins. However, their efforts remained obscured by the triumphs of the 66th and the 1st Legions.
Cedric and the other Praetors tried to pool together their minimal knowledge of Nebiros tactics to devise a counter-strategy, but every counter had been matched.
Viktor Nebiros proved that Devil combat doctrine was obsolete, and even the clever tactical mind of Ajuka Astaroth was left reeling in confusion.
"There must be someone in our ranks capable of routing these insurgents." Zekram Bael spoke out, earning the council's attention. "Our position in Lucifaad is precarious. If this disease isn't stamped out, we will be forced out of the territory, and the war may drag on for another century."
Cedric's eyes wandered in thought; few Legionnaires in their ranks had worked alongside House Nebiros, and even fewer possessed a keen understanding of their motivations.
Ajuka was trying to mold their elite cohorts into effective counters to Nebiros skinwalkers, but their rigorous training and dogmatic mindset left little room for adjusting to unfamiliar tactics.
The Renegades needed someone with a fresh perspective on the situation, someone who could look beyond their conventional strategies and was accustomed to operating on a tactical level.
Cedric's gaze inevitably wandered to Cyrus, whose crimson orbs bore a hole into the war table.
Elerin caught his eye again a few moments later, and the two exchanged knowing glances as Cedric drew everyone's focus back to him.
"Tribunes. I believe I do have someone capable of remedying our situation…." Elerin pulled her son out of his daydream just as Cedric called his name.
"…Cyrus."
l==l
"I have no fucking idea how we got here."
Cyrus silently agreed with Ghislaine's statement as the pair stood at the head of the 66th Legion.
"This is…insanity," Jade remarked and turned towards him. "Did you have any idea this was going to happen?"
"Not a fucking clue."
The war council erupted in indignation at Cedric's declaration that his male heir possessed an understanding of Nebiros tactics.
In a matter of seconds, Cyrus was commissioned to the rank of Primus Legionnaire and given the task of molding one of the 66th Legion's cohorts into an effective counter-insurgency unit.
The sudden promotion completely blindsided him, and he'd almost joined the other Tribunes in their protest, but a dose of potent infernal energy from Cedric quieted all disputes.
"My son will handle what we as Tribunes have been incapable of managing. Cyrus will be promoted to Primus and choose one of my cohorts to lead. This is not a debate. This is an order."
An hour later, the entire Legion was postured before Cyrus in a parade formation for his selection. All thirty thousand were eager to fulfill their Primarchs directives, but only one Cohort would be honored to be Cyrus's personal guard.
"You have the pick of the litter," Ghislaine commented lazily.
Cyrus glanced up towards her, she was leaning provocatively against a Griycium spear earning an exasperated glance from Jade, who stood to his right. The Nekoshu was putting on a show for the whole camp to see, but thankfully their Legionnaires were disciplined enough to keep their eyes forward.
The same couldn't be said for their attendants or Jade.
"If you keep leaning on that spear, you'll end up flashing the whole camp." Jade's chastising remarks earned a condescending glance from Ghislaine.
"Is that why you can't keep your eyes off me?" The Nekoshu neglected to wear anything more than loose clothing that showed a generous amount of delectable skin.
Cyrus wisely ignored his sisters by play and stepped towards a patiently waiting Eleamus.
"My lord." The Praetor gestured towards his Legion. "Have you made your decision?"
"I…Have." Cyrus was hesitant to choose which of his father's cohorts to take as one of his own at first.
The First Cohort seemed the most logical choice considering they were Cedric's finest warriors, but Cyrus found them too eager to please.
The same could be said of most 66th cohorts.
They were all finely tuned machines bred for a conventional style of warfare but not the kind Cyrus was storming headfirst into. He needed a cohort filled with fresh recruits and mindsets that Legion doctrines hadn't poisoned.
Only one Cohort fit the mold he was looking for, and it was also the most unlikely to be chosen out of the ten candidates.
"I want the 10th." Cyrus's declaration silenced all commotion in the camp, and Eleamus's eyes widened considerably at the selection.
Ghislaine and Jade's argument also came to a screeching halt, and he could feel their eyes boring into the back of his skull.
Each detachment of the 66th Legion had a nickname, and the 10th was appropriately dubbed "The Forsaken" because of its propensity for losing its best Legionnaires to death or transfers to more elite Cohorts such as the 1st and 2nd.
Of all the units Cyrus could have chosen, the 10th Cohort was the most unlikely of choices to be his vanguard, and the other Primus Legionnaires could scarcely believe they had not been selected.
But he seemed to be the only one to realize that the 10th was a factory that constantly churned out fresh talent.
Talent that he was staking his life on.
"Arkias!" Eleamus recovered from his stupor and called forth the 10th Cohort's stunned commander. "Step forward!"
Primus Legionnaire Sezran Arkias started his service with the 11th reserve Cohort before transferring to the 10th after the Great War.
He'd been in charge of the Forsaken for only two years, and the Legion's more experienced Cohorts had easily overtaken them in victories and honor.
It was no secret that they were at the bottom of the litter in choices, and the 10th wasn't expecting to be selected as Cyrus's personal Cohort. Their shock resonated with the rest of their sister cohorts, but none dared to question their Lord's command.
Eleamus stood taller than the rest of the Legion, and his voice boomed for all to hear. "Our Lord has chosen the 10th as his iron fist. Does anyone disagree with this nomination?"
None spoke in disagreement. Only a fool would deny the privilege of becoming a High Lord's honor guard, and Arkias was no fool.
The Primus Legionnaire glanced over his shoulder towards his Guardsmen, who stared back with muted disbelief. Their black cloaks billowed in the wind, revealing finely tuned carapaces with the 10th Cohorts insignia emblazoned on their shoulders.
None within the 66th Legion respected the 10th for good reason, but Cyrus either didn't know or didn't care about their reputation. Arkias subconsciously gripped his spear a little tighter, threatening to shatter the Gricyium lance in hand.
They would not be found wanting.
"The 10th stands ready to execute our Lord's commands." Arkias banged his lance against his shield, an action that 3,000 Legionnaires of the 10th Cohort mimicked. Griycium shields smashed against Pretrium lances, and a sound of grinding steel echoed across the encampment.
"Hmm," Ghislaine purred with amusement at the 10th's unified response to Cyrus's choice. "I think they like you."
"The rest of our Legion disagree." Jade carefully observed the tightened postures of the other Cohorts. "They feel slighted, angered that the 10th was chosen over anyone one of them."
"They'll get over it, Jade." Ghislaine leaned against Cyrus, earning a scathing glance from her sibling. "It's not like this is the first time the Legions took issue with a selection."
Many veteran Cohorts, such as the 1st and 3rd, privately objected to Jade's choice of the 2nd Cohort as her personal guard but did not overtly condemn her choice. But Jade's Cohort proved her faith by operating with distinction while deployed into the Blighted marshlands.
Bandits and mercenaries raided their caravans on the suspected orders of Bashalum Beelzebub. Cedric sent a third of his Legion into the marshlands to clear it out and look for evidence of the Satan's involvement.
They found no verification of Bashulum's meddling, but the campaign demonstrated that Jade's decision to adopt the 2nd Cohort as her own was sound.
Tharathon, the 2nd's Primus Legionnaire, and Jade had a symbiotic relationship; their shared temperament guaranteed that the 'Sons of Kimaris' perfectly matched their future Matriarch.
It remained to be seen if Cyrus could establish the same rapport with the 10th.
Eleamus dismissed the Legion, but Arkias and the 10th Cohort remained rooted in place, not out of disrespect to their Praetor but because they awaited their Lord's command.
Ghislaine sighed dramatically and wrapped an arm over Cyrus' neck, flaunting her enticing physique. "You have your work cut out for you, little brother. I hope you're up to it."
He untangled himself from the Nekoshu and looked to Jade for assistance. The last thing Cyrus needed was for Ghislaine to humiliate him in front of his new Cohort.
Jade silently took Ghislaine by her arm and pulled her out of sight from the 10th. She was joined by Eleamus, who spared Cyrus a respectful nod before falling from view.
The Spartan was beset by over 3,000 Legionnaires who anxiously awaited his command. The grounds for their selection were well-known, and each of them pondered what their futures would be like under him.
Cyrus stepped forward. His crimson eyes peered into the souls of every Legionnaire in the 10th. He searched for weaknesses in posture or expressions, and there were more than a few who stood out to him.
Devils are emotional beings that display their emotions on their sleeves. They could carve their faces into granite all they liked, but their eyes told the same story.
Most of his species found it nearly impossible to disguise their emotions; they were far too potent to be concealed, and suppressing their sentiments posed a risk to themselves and others.
Cyrus was no exception to this rule, but he refused to share any more similarities between himself and his….people.
The Spartan shoved these stray thoughts to the back of his consciousness, focusing entirely on his new private army. While Cedric was in charge of the 66th Legion, the 10th was Cyrus's personal unit, one he could instruct, command, and discipline as necessary.
It was time to make this new chain of command clear for everyone.
"This Cohort will be trained to MY SPECIFICATIONS." Potent demonic energy licked at Cyrus's frame. "I will only accept those willing and qualified to meet my standards. If I find you lacking, you will be transferred to another Cohort…."
The 10th's few veteran Legionnaires silently begrudged this ultimatum. Being forcibly transferred from one's Cohort was deemed a tremendous humiliation.
Cyrus was playing on a Devil's pride.
"…Your training as Legionnaires will not help you. Everything you have learned under the tutelage of our Immunes will be inadequate…."
The Legions were eerily similar to the Roman army of ancient times, with a few adjustments to account for a Devil's unique capabilities. Their wings necessitated aerial combat, and their Lances functioned similarly to firearms, albeit with notable limitations.
The Devil's war doctrine was a baffling mixture of modern and ancient tactics, all crammed into a somewhat seamless army made for conventional warfare.
A doctrine easily exploited by those with an in-depth knowledge of the Demonic Legions such as House Nebiros.
To achieve his goal, Cyrus needed to erase the indoctrination and teachings these Legionnaires had already undergone.
The severe lack of experience and veterans is one of the primary reasons the 10th was selected as Cyrus's personal guard.
But first, he had to break them.
"…I will mold you into guardsmen capable of hunting these Skin Walkers and any who serve under them, but it will not be celebrated. You do not take the field for superficial indulgences such as recognition or honor…."
Arkias felt the outrage growing within his Cohort. Every Devil that joined Samael's Legions did so to execute enemies of their Lord with honor and glory that would be recognized for millennia.
Lord Cyrus condemned such beliefs as fallacies.
And just as the 10th's contempt for their new commander reached a fever pitch, an all-too-familiar sensation overwhelmed them.
Fear.
A tidal wave of shadows spilled out of every inch of Cyrus's flesh, splashing between the Cohort's formation like a consuming tidal wave.
"…You take to the field for one purpose and one purpose alone…."
As tendrils glided across carapace and war lance alike, none dared to move a single inch.
Not the Centurions.
Not the Fresh-faced Legionnaires.
And not even the Veterans of the Great War dared to draw their Lord's ire.
"…To execute my will above all else…."
A pair of Azure orbs flashed with amusement and adulation off of Cyrus's flank.
Elerin shadowed her only son when Cedric did not need her by his side, and these moments of personal time were few and far between.
It was unheard of for a Noble to command a Cohort at such an early age; not even Sirzechs was appointed commander of a Cohort until he was sixteen years of age. Cyrus was ten years younger than the Gremory, but he was different from the rest of his ilk.
A Spartan's mind nestled inside a Devil's body.
The possibilities were endless, and Elerin was eager to watch Cyrus bloom into the greatest her kind had to offer.
But he needed an army at his back, and the 10th would become his vanguard into the future.
The shadow's bent to Cyrus's will and his demonstration over House Kimaris's ancestral power stunned Arkias.
Not long ago, many of the Legion's officers enjoyed the little Lordling's training sessions with Lady Ghislaine and Matriarch Elerin.
Ghislaine often asked her subordinates to spar with Cyrus to gauge the difference in skill between the Centurions and himself.
Arkias only observed one of Cyrus's sparring sessions, and he demonstrated an aptitude that suited his station. Still, Cedric remained the only member of House Kimaris that proved capable of subjugating the shadows at his beck and call.
At least until now.
Darkness engulfed Arkias, and demonic whispers brushed against his ear, daring him to shift or balk so they may feast on his flesh.
"…If I find you lacking in spirit or skill. If you decide that your age and experience give you influence over me…."
Each and every member of the 10th Cohort felt icy fingers gripping their hearts in a vice-like grip as Cyrus took one step forward. His remarks were spoken in a deep, ominous tone that would eternally remind Arkias and his men the price of defiance.
"…You will die…."
Cyrus had minimal tolerance for these devils, a sentiment borne out of his distaste for most of them due to their gross indulgence in sin. It was possible that some didn't justify his contempt, but for now, they were faceless creatures that deserved neither pity nor admiration, and they would either conform to his way of thinking or die in the process.
"…It's your will against mine, and you will lose."
He would not tolerate dissension or failure.
Ghislaine managed to extract herself from Jade's confinement just as Arkias and his Cohort were dismissed from the rallying field. Cyrus momentarily glanced in her direction before returning his gaze to Arkias as his men dispersed.
He had put on quite the act to alter his Cohort's impression of him. Cyrus did not want the 10th to view him as a boisterous child beyond his depth.
They needed to see him as their commander above all else, and while his actions may have ruffled a few feathers, he was more than willing to take a popularity hit to draw a line in the sand.
But damned, was he tired.
"I think that went well." The Nekoshu's easy grin fell when Cyrus collapsed, and she dashed forward just in time to keep his skull from crashing into the floor.
"Should have known you exerted yourself too much." Ghislaine's exhaled in amusement. "Fucking idiot."
"At least he's our idiot." Ghislaine's ears perked up at Jade's voice, and she turned to see her sister and mother approaching them. " He's learning at an astonishing rate, and I wouldn't be if he could match us in a few years. I didn't think he had a grasp on our Sgàil just yet."
"There's a lot we don't know about, Cyrus." Elerin said as she fell to a knee, threading a hand through his raven locks before coming to a silent conclusion.
"Come along, Ghislaine." Elerin gently grasped the Nekoshu's shoulder and gestured for her to carry Cyrus. "I'm sure he would appreciate waking up in his tent rather than on a dirt floor."
"As you say mother, but I doubt the little shit would appreciate the labor involved or say thank you." Ghislaine turned Cyrus on his back and carefully adjusted him in her arms. He was heavier now than the countless times she would carry him to bed, but he never whined or sought attention.
A trait that his family didn't realize was a blessing as much as it was a curse.
Ghislaine leaned his head against her collarbone, enjoying the peaceful expression etched into his face before turning towards her mother. "I don't suppose you could make that stew of yours?"
"I'm sure I can manage." Elerin's enriching laugh tingled at the back of her daughter's mind. "Now, move along. I have a meeting with your father later tonight."
Jade and Ghislaine exchanged knowing looks that Elerin pointedly ignored. What she and Cedric got up to in private was their business and no one else's.
Besides, they wouldn't take very long. Elerin wanted to spend time with her son before he departed from the camp with his Cohort. She didn't know when or where she would see Cyrus again. He demanded that he be allowed to take the 10th on a prolonged training cycle to the Blighted Marshlands, and her idiot husband agreed.
So all she could do was savor her time, even if Cyrus slept through most of it.
The following morning, the 'Forsaken' marched into the Blighted Marshlands with Cyrus at the helm. Ghislaine tagged along, unwilling to let the Gaiseadh feast on her idiotic brother in his sleep.
Cedric watched their departure from the skies, returning to his tent when his son finally fell from sight.
For nearly a year, the 10th Cohort was isolated from its Legion, spending seven months within the harsh confines of the Blighted Marshlands.
The civil war reached its third year, and the casualties continued to climb as both sides traded stunning victories and crushing defeats. Through it, all whispers reached Cedric's ears that the 10th had their numbers nearly cut in half.
Whether it was by attrition or Cyrus himself remained a mystery to the curious.
Reports became scattered amongst his spies that small pockets of Blackguards from the 10th were seen entering small settlements for several days before returning to the Marshlands. Cyrus led these random incursions for reasons unknown that baffled his agents.
What was clear was that each incursion severely impacted Loyalists' insurrections in the immediate area. Cedric's local agents would report that Cyrus had made an entire Nebiros cell disappear in little more than a few days leaving behind traces for the garrisoned Legionnaires to pick up on.
Cedric's men attempted to communicate with the 10th, but all efforts were stonewalled or ignored entirely. Cyrus had no desire to connect with Cedric's men and continued to lead his Cohort as he saw fit.
Still, this sighting confirmed that Cyrus and his men were back on the grid.
And Cedric couldn't wait to see what came next.