Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

Chapter 452: Death By Meetings III

Chapter 452: Death By Meetings III

I double checked the address and my location.

Yup. This looked like it was the right spot. A typical home in an average neighborhood. Nothing ornate, nothing special, but far from a slum or apartment.

The two [Legionnaires] standing guard outside the door helped reassure me that I was at the right place. Full armor and spears, the weather getting cooler probably helped.

“Hi! I’m looking for Legata Katerina, of the Sixth?” I asked them.

One of them turned to me.

“You need - Sentinel Dawn!” He cried out, immediately saluting. The other guard promptly turned to me and saluted as well.

Okay. As much as I grumbled about it, presenting me in front of the entire Sixth with that whole ceremony thing was paying off. Instant recognition. No issues with identity, questioning me, or any of that nonsense. I gave them a cheery wave.

“Hi! Yup, that’s me. Legata Katerina?” I prompted.

“Right this way!”

The two guards glanced at each other, and one of them escorted me inside.

The place was odd inside. Clearly a home, but just as clearly being used as some sort of office. We passed through rooms with flimsy desks shoved into corners with industrious [Scribes] working hard.

The guard led me to the hortus, a little open-air garden in the middle of the house, and saluted to Legata Katerina.

[Leader - 731]. One of the highest leveled mortals I’d ever seen.

I’d met the woman at the after-ceremony party before, where she’d been all smiles and handshakes, smoothly rubbing elbows with everyone else present. Now I got to see her vaguely at work.

We weren’t in the field, and she’d skipped the traditional gear and armor of a legionnaire for lighter clothing, her grey-streaked hair tied up in a severe bun. The woman was stocky and old, with a weather-beaten look from decades in the field, and arms that indicated she was no stranger to the hard physical labor of soldiering.

She was seated at a desk, a few people around her. I recognized the rank symbols for the second in command, the standard-bearer, a few people who were some mix of scribes and runners, and a single tribune. The top brass of the Legion. Only missing the Camp Prefect, who was probably out and about doing their job.

“War Sentinel Dawn for Legata Katerina!” The guard announced.

“Dismissed.” The woman idly flicked her wrist at the guard, who saluted again, turned on his heel, and promptly left.

“One moment Sentinel.” Katerina said. “Tribune. Is there anything else?”

He gave a curt nod.

“Yes ma’am. Disciplinary issue. Soldier got into a drunken fistfight with a civilian last night. Came up for discipline with Centurion Opal this morning. When she saw who he’d gotten into a fight with, she kicked it up to me, and I’m kicking it up to you.”

Katerina gave the tribune a flat look.

“Well, don’t stand around all day, spit it out! Who’d he get in a fight with?”

The tribune swallowed.

“Quintus Pompeius Senecio Sosius Priscus’s second son.” He smoothly said the entire behemoth of a single name out in one breath. “You know-”

Katerina waved him off.

“Yes, yes, head of the Legion budgetary committee for the House of Bone.”

She explosively sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Well, that’s a pickle.”

The Legata eyed me standing behind the tribune, at the entrance to the hortus.

“War Sentinel Dawn. I trust you’ve been listening in. How would you handle the situation? Tribune Tristan decides to tell you about the issue, instead of me. The rules are clear, but the matter is politically sensitive, potentially impacting the operation of the legion if the wrong egos aren’t properly managed.”

Good first impression, good first impression.

I gave her a cheeky grin.

“Last I checked, I’m not in the chain of command for this type of problem, not unless you and half your staff are dead. At which point, I’ve got bigger issues facing the Legion than a political dustup. Frankly, Tribune Tristan tells me about this problem? I politely direct him to you, and let you figure out the solution to the issue.”

Katerina barked out a laugh.

“I think we’ll work well together.” She said, and refocused on Tristan.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Leonidus, you’re going to pen a very polite letter to Senecio, extending our apologies, this isn’t how we like to conduct ourselves, heap the bullshit on thick. Mention that every rule and law is going to be followed to the letter. Offer to let him or his son hold the lash themselves, if they’d like, and the number of lashes is going to be maximized. Throw in some time in the stockade, and latrine duty for two weeks. I’d offer to double the number of lashes, but we’re already needing to follow the rules to the letter, or the crusty old fart will come down on us even harder. Have Ardenus deliver the letter personally with Reed, and bring two squads with you. Full spit and shine, maximum polish. Not the one involved in the fight, and not Wren. Tristan. Through the centurion, let the soldier know about the penalty, and more importantly, why. Throw him 888 arcs for his understanding and cooperation, then see if Maxlin can brew him something fancy. Something that lets him feel the pain and the sting, but removes the aftereffects, lets him bleed plenty, but heal quickly. That should interest that maniac enough that he’ll sit down and do it, while also neatly following the rules to the letter. Am I missing anything?”

The second coughed.

“Katerina, we’re moving out tomorrow. Time in the stockade isn’t going to be useful, practical, or help Senecio’s ego.”

She snorted.

“Fine. No stockade, three weeks latrine duty.”

Tribune Tristan saluted and left. I stayed where I was.

Katerina eyed me.

“Well? You don’t seem to be the type to play games, and I haven’t got all day.”

I almost hurried up to her desk, then remembered who and where I was.

I was Sentinel Dawn, and this was my Legion.

I didn’t march, that’d be wrong. I did stride forward with confident steps, stopping in front of her desk.

First impression was over, what about second impression?

“Hi! I’m Dawn. We met before. I’m settling into the role, and figured we should have a chat. Get a feel for each other, set expectations, start to get an idea of how we’ll work together, all that good stuff.”

I’d started strong thanks to some of Iona’s suggestions, annnnnnnd promptly lost it.

Katarina nodded.

“Excellent. Arachne gave me a basic overview of your capabilities. Got some mixed feelings about you. On one hand, we’ve got a War Sentinel now, excellent! Not even a vampire, which is fantastic, it opens up more possibilities than normal. On the other, your age, background, level, and speciality gives me a moment’s pause. Not born in Exterreri? Never marched with the Legions? Only 500? Just a healer? I’ll admit, I need some reassurance here, and some ideas of how we’ll work together. There was a big fancy speech when you were promoted, but let’s put our cards down on the table for a minute. Every third word of that speech is a gross exaggeration when it’s not a total lie. My mind’s open, hit me.”

I gave Katerina a tight smile. On one hand, her concerns made sense. On the other, I was so tired of proving myself. Of explaining myself.

Maybe, just maybe, if I was lucky, this would be the last time.

“Three and a half million points of magic power, with enough control to perform perfect repairs. Roughly 100 meter radius on my direct healing, and a slightly larger radius on an extremely rapid passive healing aura. While I have mana, it’s virtually impossible for anyone to die near me. It’s technically possible that we could get hit with something powerful enough that overloads my healing but, politely, we’re utterly fucked if someone like Sentinel Stacked hits us with one of her cards anyway. You may be older than I am, you may have campaigned more years than I’ve been alive, but I’ll wager I’ve seen more hours in fully engaged battle than you have.”

I was getting comfortable. Settling into my role like a second skin.

I was Sentinel Dawn.

I was a healer.

This role was right for me, and I’d been trained on how to take command of a small team of Rangers to execute my goals.

I wouldn’t dream of commanding a full legion, but right here, right now?

Katerina and her team were simply another group of Rangers, and that role I knew exactly how to execute.

“From you, I need at least a squad of batteries. The more the merrier. I only have a million points in my mana pool, and while that’s far more than enough for any small-scale engagement, I suspect it’s nothing when we get to a proper pitched war. I’ve got layered artifacts to disguise my level, and my initial thoughts involve remaining inconspicuous. Just another healer in the backlines. Maybe throw on some armor and join a squad. Might need to rearrange some people, but picture me in the middle of a testudo, surrounded by batteries, my skills immediately healing any fatal wounds. Can’t do much about drowning or curses though.”

Katerina and the rest of her group studied me carefully.

“That is… interesting.” She finally admitted. “I can’t tell you how many times a [Mage] has insisted that a team supporting them and them alone will absolutely and for sure change the tide of any battle we engage in, but they’ve never had the experience, power, and backing to make me think it was possible. That, and with all due respect to Sentinel Calamity, it seems unlikely that you’ll gas us in the middle of the night to test preparedness. Are you familiar with the Sixth Legion’s specialty?”

Devour had covered it in his lessons, and I’d done some additional reading since hearing I was assigned to the Sixth.

“Sixth Legion, cognomen Dread.” I recited. “Famed for alchemical concoctions and weapons. Heavier and more compact than most other Legions, you trade outriders, flanking, and cavalry forces for going deep on the alchemy. The main weapon I’ve heard about are effectively explosive rocks, but I suspect the true capabilities aren’t written down in books.” I drily added the last part.

“In large part because it depends on the Optio leading the alchemists at the time.” Katerina agreed. “We have one of the highest accident rates in-”

Katerina was cut off by a bunch of shouting and yelling deeper in the house, and the sounds of a fight. Her staff tensed, drawing weapons as the Legata remained calm at her desk.

“If it ends up being a problem, it ends up being a problem.” She said. “Carrying on, highest accident-”

A moment later there was a cry, and a guard hurried over. He opened his mouth, and Katerina raised an eyebrow at him. He remembered himself, and saluted.

“Legata! We caught a high-level spy in the house, but as we moved in to capture him, he walked through a door and vanished! He was a saurian, no obvious insignia.”

Katerina looked doubtful.

“What level?” She asked.

“Legata! Over 800.” He briskly reported.

“You managed to find a spy over level 800?” Katerina’s tone was doubtful, and I agreed with her. The soldiers were mostly around level 256, and managing to stumble into and find a spy triple their level? It just didn’t make sense.

The standard-bearer was getting excited.

“Katerina, permission to speak?” He asked.

“Granted.”

“Was the saurian an iguanodon-type?” He asked the soldier.

The soldier nodded.

“Yes sir.”

The standard-bearer turned back to the Legata, acting like a kid at Christmas.

“Katerina, I think that was Arash the Wanderer.”

The name didn’t have the impact he thought it would.

“Who?” Katerina asked the question we were all thinking.

“Arash the Wanderer! Immortal, famously cursed to never exit the same door he entered. Sighting him’s supposed to be good luck!” The standard-bearer looked around, his excitement slowly dimming as none of us particularly cared.

That was one heck of an interesting curse though. Mine felt tame by comparison. Knowing White Dove, dude had probably been something of a homebody before getting cursed. It’d fit her style.

“Not a spy then, just an interruption. Got it.” Katerina summarized. “Dawn. Would you be willing to give a demonstration of your abilities? Say, now?”

I wanted to nod. To say yes.

I knew what would happen if I did.

Violence. Absurd amounts of violence, two centuries, cohorts, or even the entire legion going to a mock-battle, doing their best to figure out just how strong I was. People would be stabbed, slashed, punched, trampled and more. Yes, I’d be there to patch them up, but in no way, shape, or form was this not a massive amount of harm that I’d be inflicting on people.

There were some areas where my [Oath] was cut down to the bare bones, and other places where I was a little more generous with the spirit of things. Not ordering violence on people was one area where I drew the line, where another healer might not.

Awkward for a War Sentinel, to be sure. Ordering defensive positions to be taken, then operating off that was workable, but not offensive like this.

“One slightly awkward problem.” I told the Legata. “I’m oathbound, and I wrote the original [Oath]. I can’t say yes to this, but if there’s a practice session, I’ll be there.”

I got a Look from Katerina. A really unamused one.

“A War Sentinel,” She said, voice completely flat. “That’s sworn to First, do no harm?”

Eh.

That was a pretty accurate description.

“Yup!” I cheerfully said. “That’s me!”

She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“Gods save us all.”