“Not that,” he said. “The title. Consul. We’re going to see the consul!”
Myrrin allowed that to sink in.
“Sweet steel of home!” she suddenly cried.
With a SNAP, the commander’s boots halted, and he turned to face the two of them with a wry expression.
“I can hear every word you’ve said back there.”
Myrrin and Donnelan flushed red from embarrassment, but the commander just waved it off.
“Come walk up here next to me and we’ll talk as we go. We don’t want you embarrassing yourselves in front of Minerva, now do we?”
“Of course not, Commander!” Myrrin snapped out a crisp salute.
“We wouldn’t dream of it, sir!” Donnelan mirrored her movement perfectly.
“Just relax a little,” Titus said. “You’re making me nervous, and I’m married to the woman.”
He resumed walking as the two of them caught up.
“Look, Minerva might be one of the highest-ranking members of the Legion on Pangera, sure. But she’s not as terrifying as people make out.”
“I don’t know, Commander,” Donnelan said warily. “Aurillia seemed more than a little intimidated.”
“Well, sure, but that’s an isolated case, you’ll see.”
The two young Legionaries weren’t much mollified, but they had little choice except to follow their leader as he marched onward toward the ever-growing mountain in the distance.
The streets of the fortress were built to the exacting standard of the Legion engineers. Straight, flat stone and wide paths allowed for the easy flow of traffic, and there was plenty of that. Legionaries in armour moving goods to warehouses or delivering supplies to the innumerable barracks throughout the Expanse or moving out to the teleportation arrays for deployment. With so many soldiers and administration staff in one place, the fortress held as many civilians as any city, but here, nothing was allowed to distract from the military purpose of the fortress.
Alberton the Loremaster had droned on and on about the place when they’d arrived, blinking through the teleportation gates, filling the head of every Legionary who’d never been here with the history of the Abyssal Legion’s seat of power.
This place had never been conquered, not even during the Cataclysm, she’d learned. This Expanse had been found and claimed by the first Legion in the opening years of the Rending, and as the conflict raged on, they’d built it up to its current state and used it as a staging ground and central organising point for the entire war effort. Its location was an intensely held secret. Myrrin didn’t even know what stratum they were in, though from the extremely dense Mana in the air, she was afraid that she could take a guess.
“Have you been to the forges yet? At the foot of the spears.” Titus waved toward the great towers that pierced the sky. “That’s where the best arms the Abyssal Legion has to offer are made, including my axe.”
Myrrin’s heart skipped a beat with excitement at the news. She’d long admired the commander’s axe, a weapon of incredible power. She’d love to see where it was made, but her enthusiasm dimmed. The closer they got to the towering mountain, the more its sheer size loomed over them, the more their hearts quailed. The size, scope, and power of it was overwhelming. Only the commander was unaffected, his step becoming lighter and his stride further extending the closer they came to it.
16. The Heart of the Legion, Part 4
Donnelan and Myrrin struggled to breathe. They huddled together in a vain attempt to ward off the suffocating waves of pressure that emanated from the surrounding Legionaries. There didn’t seem to be a single guard standing at their post, or official running messages, who didn’t seem as though they were a high-Level powerhouse with the stats of a top-Level delver. The two young Legionaries felt as small as mice clinging to a toothpick in an ocean storm as they trailed in their commander’s wake, desperately struggling not to succumb. For his part, Titus didn’t appear to notice their plight.
After they were allowed entrance through the yawning gate of the Iron Mountain, they hastily made their way inside to find the interior bedecked in breathtaking marble, the wide-open halls lined with incredible, lifelike statues of long-passed Legionaries. The commander’s steps only lengthened as he moved from place to place, giving his name at each checkpoint they crossed and gradually penetrating deeper into the heart of the fortress.
It took hours, and by the end, Myrrin’s head was spinning. She couldn’t say where they were, who’d they’d met, or even why they were there anymore. Every time they moved from one chamber into the next, the strength of the Legionaries on guard leapt to a new tier.
The soldiers standing guard next to her were resplendent in the most impressive Legion armour she’d ever seen. Trimmed in gold, the living rock plates were wreathed in precious metals and alive with veins of Fire Mana that seeped heat into the air as it trickled through the stone. She wasn’t even able to look the man in the eye, and when she snuck a glance at Donnelan, she found he was sweating profusely and shaking in his seat.
For goodness’ sake, Commander! Why did you have to bring us with you?
Oblivious to her suffering, Titus was speaking quietly with an armoured official outside a grand set of double doors. The doors themselves were elaborately carved and decorated, set into an archway that extended fifteen metres high. A full squad of ten Legionaries stood guard in formation outside the door, their dominant auras unrestrained, flooding the room with their thirst for battle.
After a few moments, the official stepped through the cavernous door, leaving Titus by himself. He gazed on in silence before he turned back to his two, cowering young Legionaries. He clicked his tongue before walking over and clapping them on the shoulder.
“Come on now, young ones. You need to show a little more mettle than this. Don’t embarrass our Legion.”
The two of them stopped trembling, eyes filled with a kindling resolve.
“Don’t forget,” he said, “it’s going to be way worse on the other side of the door.”
He gave them a squeeze on the shoulder with his sausage-fingered hands and turned to walk back to the door, never noticing the crumbling confidence he left behind.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Donnelan moaned under his breath. “I curse the day I ever got curious about the inside of the Iron Mountain.”
“Y-you’re g-going to meet the c-consul! A-aren’t you excited?”
“You’re stuttering. I’m sweating like I’ve spent a day doing drills in armour. This isn’t looking good.”
“I-if I pass out in f-front of the consul, will I b-be discharged?” Myrrin whispered, horrified.
“Of course not. The commander will just hate you forever.”
“Nooooo.”
When the official stepped back through the oversized doors, they both jumped in their seats and shut their mouths, staring straight ahead. Titus exchanged a few short words before he returned to them.
“We’re up. Step quickly. We don’t get much of her time.”
So saying, he brushed down the shoulders of their uniforms with his palms as if they were unruly children before grabbing each of them by the arms and straightening their posture.
“It’s going to be tough in there, show me what you’re made of.”
He shot each of them a hard stare, his cold blue eyes piercing through the mountainous pressure that suffocated them and stiffened their spines.
“Yes, Commander!” Myrrin shouted unthinkingly and saluted him, Donnelan following suit a moment later.