Chapter Six

0845 Hours, August 01, 2554 (Military Calendar)

Outskirts of Cuebo

Tabah Region, Planet Demeter, Itami System

The sight that greeted Morgan when he arrived in the Azure Kingdom was an unusual one, to say the least, being an honour guard of troops dressed in leather and metal armour polished to a high sheen waiting for him as he stepped off a train that had brought him all the way from Central City.

He counted eighty of them arranged into two lines of forty, each carrying a shield in one hand whilst the other held a spear, standing ramrod straight, but on the barked command from a loud voice they thumped the butt of their spears into the ground three times, uttering some shout with each strike, the moment Morgan emerged from the train carriage onto the station's lone platform.

'It's how they greet visiting dignitaries.'

This came from O'Hare, a diplomatic attaché Argento had sent to accompany Morgan and inform him on the various aspects of life within the Azure Kingdom and Empire of the Black Mountain, as he came to stand next to the Spartan.

'It's not what I was expecting,' Morgan said. 'At least armour wise. I would have thought the premier fighting force around would have more… modern equipment than this.'

'This is their ceremonial garb,' O'Hare said. 'They have equipment more suited to combat back at their garrison, but make no mistake. Those swords and spears are very much real.'

Morgan looked down at his own armour then said, 'I'll take it into consideration.'

Across from them, three men appeared and began walking down the corridor formed by the soldiers towards the train. The one in the centre wore ornate armour decorated with a black sash tied around his waist and gold braids hanging from his left shoulder that made Morgan initially think he was an aide to some senior officer, only for O'Hare to say it marked him as a legatus, or the head of a legion and equivalent in rank to a colonel, maybe a brigadier general, which in either case meant he outranked Morgan.

Under the semi-formalised rank structure of the Spartans, he held command authority equal to that of a lieutenant which irked him somewhat, seeing how he had been a captain in the Army under consideration for promotion to major. It was perhaps one of the few issues he had with the supersoldier program, and a sentiment shared by many fellow officers who essentially found themselves 'demoted' following induction or placed under the command of former enlisted personnel.

And that's not even getting into the situation with Palmer, Morgan thought to himself before banishing it from his head as the legatus approached, taking a moment to examine the other two people with him. One wore stylised armour though not to the same degree as the legatus, and the braids around his arm were silver which, according to O'Hare, meant he was a centurion and likely as not the commander of the troops arrayed before them.

The final man was dressed in simpler armour still but made up for the fact in that he carried a flag bearing what Morgan could only assume was the standard of the legion this group, or centuria to use the proper term, belonged to, that of a stylised image of a bearded man in a toga holding aloft a bolt of lightning.

During the train journey here O'Hare had spoken at length to Morgan about the Azure Kingdom, in particular their decision to style themselves on ancient Rome in terms of both architecture and society, something that even extended to their military which was composed of twelve legions, not the ten General Mack had suggested, structured around the model from Julius Caesar's time. But despite the Roman bent to everything, for some reason they had elected to name each legion after the Greek pantheon instead, making the man on the flag Zeus rather than Jupiter.

Nobody in the Republic had an answer as to why that was, and neither did Morgan care enough to question the people of the Azure Kingdom regarding that little quirk, writing it off as just that. If anything, the various oddities of Demeter were starting to irritate him and his desire to make it off-world simply grew.

But as with his issues with Palmer, Morgan pushed the thought away and duly returned the salute of the legatus when he and his companions reached the Spartan and his aide.

'On behalf of his excellence King McDiarmid the Second, I, Legatus Johan Schmidt of the First Legion, do welcome you to the Azure Kingdom,' the man said as behind him, the files of troops thumped their spears into the ground a fourth time and let loose another exultation.

He then held his left hand out for Morgan to shake which threw the Spartan for a brief moment, expecting the right considering Schmidt had both arms intact, but he recovered quickly and shook it, introducing himself with O'Hare doing the same a moment later though unlike Morgan, he received something of a sneer from Schmidt on shaking hands with the legatus.

'If you would like to follow me,' Schmidt said, gesturing back down the path he had walked. 'We have a carriage waiting that will take us into the city, and to King McDiarmid.'

'Lead on, sir,' Morgan said.

He fell into step behind Schmidt and began walking past the lines of troops who, to a man, would snap straight and plant the end of their spears into the dirt before tipping them forward, creating a loose arch over the entourage as they went by. Once past the troops would fall in behind them with almost mechanical precision into lines eight abreast, their squads or the contubernium, and Morgan couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by the sight.

It spoke volumes as to their coordination and precision, but he also couldn't help but remember the adage of how no inspection ready, or perhaps parade ready unit, ever passed combat. A formation that spent too much time practising their close order drills consequently spent too little time practising more combat related skills that might save their lives in a fight.

He filed it away for later as he and Schmidt arrived at the promised carriage waiting just a few dozen metres from the last of the troops, an open topped affair with golden flourishes in the style of lightning adorning its otherwise simple design and two majestic horses standing ready to pull it. The driver waited until Morgan, Schmidt and O'Hare were seated to snap his reins and spur them into action, the centurion and his standard bearer electing to march at the head of the centuria as it followed the carriage to the city.

'So,' Schmidt said once they were underway. 'The raiders have finally managed to snag themselves a Spartan.'

'So it would seem,' Morgan said.

'So it would,' Schmidt said as he did as everyone else had on seeing him up close, examining his armour with no small amount of curiosity and fascination. 'I've heard many tales regarding the exploits of your kind, of their achievements in combat against seemingly insurmountable odds. Small wonder the Helots regard you as divine agents.

'Assuming, of course, those weren't simply exaggerations.'

'In all honesty, they were probably downplaying what we can do,' Morgan said. 'Lone Spartans have been known to turn around the most hopeless of situations, even without support.'

'A situation you now find yourself in,' Schmidt said as he eyed O'Hare. 'Even if you have chosen to ally yourself with the Western Republic.'

He threw another sneer O'Hare's way which the aide met with a glower of his own, and Morgan glanced his way briefly before returning to Schmidt and said, 'I'm not aiming to ally with just one group, but all of you. They were just the first people I encountered.'

'All of us?' Schmidt said. 'What, so you intend to enlist the help of those cave dwellers as well?'

Morgan took this to mean the Empire of the Black Mountain and nodded.

'The more we work together, the greater our chances of winning against the raiders,' he said.

Schmidt seemed to consider this for a moment then gave a hearty laugh.

'Like such an attempt hasn't been tried before,' he said. 'Prior to the Great War we were all unified under one banner and our efforts against the raiders were coordinated, yet here we still are. Why would your presence mean the outcome will be any different this time?'

'For starters, because I imagine it's been some time since your last collaborative attempt,' Morgan said. 'You, the Republic and the Empire will have all grown and developed since then, meaning there are more options available. That should increase the odds a little.

'Secondly, I'm not exactly a regular soldier, am I? Spartans are amongst the best the UNSC has to offer, both in terms of training and equipment.'

Morgan held his gauntleted hands out to emphasis the equipment part, the plating covering him thick enough on its own to shrug off fire from weapons with larger calibres than what he had seen on Demeter without considering his energy shield, to say nothing of his physical augmentations. He could lift close to a metric ton and run almost as fast as the horses pulling the carriage if they decided to break out into a gallop.

Even so, Schmidt seemed unmoved by his words and flashed him the same disapproving look he had shot at O'Hare before looking past them both to the centuria marching in near perfect harmony behind the carriage.

'I command the greatest fighting force on this planet,' he said. 'And its largest, many of whom are former ODSTs and Marines. What makes you think that you alone can succeed where they failed?'

'The hope is that I won't be doing it alone,' Morgan said. 'That I'll have the backing of you, the Republic and the Empire, and find a way to get everyone off this rock and back to more civilised space.'

Again, Schmidt let out a laugh at Morgan's words after contemplating them for several long moments, fixing him with some toothy grin as he said, 'And what makes you think we wish to leave?'

0931 Hours, August 01, 2554 (Military Calendar)

Cuebo

Tabah Region, Planet Demeter, Itami System

Morgan's first proper view of the Azure Kingdom's capital came as the carriage crested a hill that lay between it and the train station, the driver even stopping for a moment to let him take it all in before carrying on down the other side of the hill, though rather than being more or less straight as it had been the road now wound left and right, passing by bodies of water that were an incredibly deep blue.

It was very much a breathtaking view, especially for someone that had only been exposed to the dowdy scenes of the Republic, and Morgan had to wonder if the Azure Kingdom hadn't undertook some massive civil engineering project to ensure such a thing would always happen. The slope they had just climbed was of a gentle enough gradient that walking up it was hardly taxing, and now they were set to weave through a series of ponds that were almost identical in size and shape, a rarity within nature.

As for Cuebo itself, it certainly looked to be the better of the two capital cities Morgan had seen during his time on Demeter, appearing far cleaner than Central City had which, likely thanks to being in a desert, always had this subtle but noticeable orange tinge to the air that gave everything a dusty, almost dowdy appearance despite the bustling population.

Cuebo, on the other hand, seemed to all but glisten in the early morning sun, surrounded as it was by lush green forests and fields covered in crops awaiting harvest. Its buildings were arranged in neat rows and made of a reddish-brown brick, never rising above two or three storeys which only served to help distinguish the structures that performed important governmental duties. Those were built with grand Doric columns made of a white stone, supporting huge domes emblazoned with mosaics that, O'Hare had mentioned, chronicled heroic deeds accomplished by past heroes of the Kingdom.

The streets of the city were made of paved tiles and lined with the citizenry who had come out in their droves to greet the returning members of the First Legion and their guests, offering loud cheers as they threw flowers into the road as the formation passed by. Some landed in the carriage though by accident rather than design, and what few did were tossed back out by Schmidt who returned the cheering of the citizens with genial waves and smiles.

A few of the women in the crowd clamoured to grab Schmidt's flowers then held them up triumphantly, offering coy and impish smiles to the legatus who gave the occasional nod back. Morgan looked to O'Hare for some manner of an explanation but he just shook his head minutely by way of a reply, either because he didn't know or it wasn't worth telling.

Morgan gave a half shrug back and settled in for the rest of the journey, using it to take in more of the city around him which, as far as he knew or could tell, was doing a very good job of replicating the style of ancient Rome in terms of architecture with many doorways and windows being arches of varying sizes, and around the tops of the buildings were reliefs depicting who knew what, though judging by the fact that many of the images had people carrying some form of weapon it wouldn't have been much of a leap to assume they were battles.

The people of Cuebo continued the Roman imagery, being dressed in loose fitting tunics made of white linens beneath larger, looser sheets of cloth they wrapped around themselves in a specific pattern before securing them into place with brooches or clasps. Beyond that, each wore a coloured strip of garment somewhere on their bodies that denoted their social rank within the Kingdom, another aspect of ancient Rome they had copied, with the colour of the cloth corresponding to which caste they belonged to.

There were five such ranks within the Kingdom but regular people could only move between the bottom three. The top two were reserved for the king and his ruling council, known as the Twelve Senators, and were hereditary positions passed down to a designated heir.

Eventually the carriage found itself emerging into a huge, wide open square sat roughly in the centre of the city by Morgan's estimation where an even larger crowd was waiting for them, alongside what was presumably the rest of the First Legion judging by their shiny armour and spears, neatly arranged into their cohorts outside an impressive looking building that Schmidt said was the Curia Primus, or the legislative heart of the Kingdom where McDiarmid and his council determined matters concerning everyday life.

On seeing the carriage emerge from the buildings the crowd erupted into wild cheers, creating a cacophonous din that almost drowned out a trumpet section playing some jubilant tune.

'They're certainly putting on a show,' Morgan said to O'Hare.

'It's what they do,' O'Hare said. 'Appearances are everything to them, doubly so because you're coming to them after us. They have to show us up.'

Morgan nodded, recalling the looks Schmidt had thrown O'Hare's way and how he had spoken about the Republic, but even so this all seemed over the top for a lone Spartan coming to request military aid.

The carriage came to a halt by the steps leading up to the Curia where a deep red carpet had been put down, members of the First Legion lining it. Like those at the train station, they planted the butts of their spears into the ground ahead of tilting them forward, creating another loose arch for the carriage's passengers to walk down once they alighted from it, Schmidt walking next to Morgan as O'Hare trailed a few steps behind the pair.

As they did, Morgan couldn't help but feel a little out of place next to everyone. They were all dressed in near pristine equipment polished to a high sheen, or expensive and finely tailored clothing, whereas he was wearing a somewhat scuffed set of armour coloured a muted green intended for operations in forested terrain. Even without his towering height, he stood out.

He quashed the thought as they approached the foot of the stairs where a man dressed in a toga and wearing a vibrant blue sash around his waist held up a hand, signalling for the amassed crowd to fall silent which they did, impressing Morgan given how many people there were and how far some of them were from the man.

'Presenting his highness, King McDiarmid the Second!' he said.

From the top of the stairs leading into the Curia a man appeared, wearing a brilliant white toga and a deep purple cape that hung from his left shoulder, secured into place by a golden clasp bearing a relief of his face. Behind him was a contubernium in their ceremonial garb, four to a side, acting as a praetorian guard, and further back were twelve more people dressed in similar attire, though the capes they wore were crimson in colour.

On catching sight of McDiarmid the crowd gave three cheers as the soldiers thumped their spears into the ground, the king descending the steps one at a time as he gave waves to the people until he arrived at the base, whereupon Schmidt dropped to one knee before him.

'Your highness,' he said. 'May I present to you Spartan Morgan, of the United Nations Space Command Spartan Branch, and Henry O'Hare, of the Western Republic.'

'Rise, Legatus,' McDiarmid said before moving to Morgan, firmly grasping his hand to shake it. 'Well met, Spartan, and welcome to Cuebo, the glistening heart of the Azure Kingdom!'

'Thank you, sir,' Morgan said, noting that the king ignored O'Hare despite him only being a few feet away. 'Your city is unlike anything I've seen before.'

'I'm glad to hear you say it,' McDiarmid said as he placed a hand on the Spartan's back and began leading him towards the Curia Primus. 'My ancestors worked hard to ensure it, and I intend to continue that tradition. Now, the communique from the Republic mentioned you wish to enlist our help in tackling the raiders?'

'Yes, sir,' Morgan said. 'Yours, and that of the Republic and Empire. President Argento has already pledged her full support.'

A faint smile crept onto McDiarmid's lips when he heard that, saying, 'I'm sure she has, but you must understand, Spartan, that what they have to offer pales in comparison to what we can provide you with.'

They reached the top of the stairs and entered the Curia which, as befitting its status as the heart of the Azure Kingdom, was lavishly decorated with carved statues, intricately designed mosaics and frescos, plus a fountain that sat square in the middle of the entry foyer. A pair of young women were sat on the edge that ran around it and on seeing McDiarmid, Morgan and everyone else enter, they sprang to their feet to hurry over, each one carrying a silver tray bearing goblets filled with a honey coloured liquid.

Once the trays were clear one of the women approached Morgan and motioned for his helmet which he had been holding in the crook of his arm since stepping off the train, offering to carry it for him, but he just shook his head and followed after McDiarmid into one of the many rooms that filled the Curia, an expansive one home to a long table made of what looked like marble and a window that ran the full length of the room's far wall, providing a stunning view of the city and, in the distance, a huge lake that glimmered in the sunlight.

McDiarmid seated himself first at the head of the table then gestured for everyone else to do the same, motioning for Morgan to take a seat next to him and, almost begrudgingly, allowed O'Hare to position himself opposite the Spartan.