Cica shudders involuntarily at Garland's story.
"Aww, sorry to be nosey. Mama always said I better learn to think before I open my mouth. Sorry to get right in your business like that. I just...well, it is pretty unusual, isn't it?
"Anyway, condolences for your losses."
She gives the Masked Man a sheepish smile and then takes another big bite of pancake.
Ilistra focuses on eating, scarfing her food down voraciously. She does pause and glance at Garland out of the corner of her eye when he explains his mask and the terrible burns beneath.
When she's finally stuffed from breakfast, she starts gathering the empty plates and cups from everyone. She brings them to the wash room, drops them off, and hurries away before any of the servant staff can say or do anything ugly.
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The soldiers finish up their food, eager to be back to the barracks in time for their first morning muster. They are expected to be ready to meet their new commander, the centurion of 7th century.
The surrounding soldiers all give Ilistra looks of open scorn when she stops behaving as a soldier and begins to tidy up dishes while in uniform. A burly oread and an ifrit stand up from the table next to the 13th contubernium's, the table labeled 12.
The oread steps in front of Ilistra blocking her way. "Oi! What the f#+~ you think you're doing, mudblood? Seventh don't do slave's work!"
The ifrit glares angrily at the rest of the group still sitting at table 13. "Yeah, fishes. Where is your pride? How can you let this dumb animal bring shame to our banner in front of everyone?" He turns to Ilistra. "Put the dishes down. Now." pointing back at the table where she had just retrieved them.
Ilistra's eyes go wide as saucers as she's confronted for her actions. Realization begins to dawn on her about just how far in station she has apparently risen in the past hour. She spins and follows the ifrit's finger back to the table where she lets the dishes noisily clatter to the surface. "Nke a abụghị ezigbo," she mutters.
"This isn't real."
The Oread's eyes narrow. "Hey, ain't you that kitchen whore? Ya, you are..."
He steps forward and makes to grab at Ilistra's tunica.
Suddenly the dark form of Placidus is there between Ilistra and the two soldiers from the 12th contubernium. His body instantly drops into a ready stance, hands low at his sides. It is clear he is no stranger to unarmed combat.
"No." he says calmly.
"That is enough. Return to your table. She will bring no more dishonor to our banner."
By this point the immediate area around the group in the dining hall has grown quiet. All eyes turn to the confrontation, waiting to see if there will be greenhorn blood spilled.
"Mma. ọ dị adị n'ezie," she says as she turns back around to face the Oread and the tall one from her unit. A heat shimmer begins to appear in the air around her.
"How would you know? Your meat would get cooked in my kitchen," she hisses at the oread.
"Okay. It's real again."
One corner of Placidus's mouth quirks up for a brief moment, but overall he maintains his stance of calm readiness.
Right about then a roughly barrel shaped Undine in a centurion's uniform marches up. He swings his red centurion's baton to point at the confrontation. "Granitus, Embrellan, what is the meaning of this!?" he asks the soldiers from the 12th.
"This f$+&i-" Granitus doesn't get any further into his sentence before the centurion's rod is shoved forcibly into his mouth.
Embrellan, the ifrit, gulps nervously. "The new native girl there, she was bringing dishonor to the unit, sir! Cleaning up dishes like a slave in front of everyone!" Embrellan sounds genuinely scandalized.
The centurion sighs, closing his eyes. He removes his baton from Granitus' mouth, turning to look at Ilistra. "That true, Auxilliara?"
Ilistra shifts uncomfortably under the centurion's attention. She could scarce believe she's potentially in more trouble now than she'd ever been as a slave. Sighing and resigning herself to another beating, she shrugs one shoulder while looking away. "Yes."
With her head turned, her eyes fall on the others in her unit. She realizes that if she's still going to be Auxiliara to them, she'd better try to preserve their honor, even if hers was in the gutter. "Wait, no," she says, turning back to the centurion. "The dishonor is mine alone. I'm a stupid halfbreed." She taps her forehead. "Dumb native."
Then she waits for her reprisal, trying not to tense up or flinch.
"You two, f&&% off," the centurion says dismissively to Granitus and Embrellan. He kicks Granitus in the thigh, and uses his baton to shove Embrellan away point first. The two chastised guardsmen slink back to their own table, casting dirty looks over their shoulders as they go.
The centurion then whirls on the 13th contubernium. "You five, come with me. I better not hear a damned word." He then begins walking out of the dining hall, clearly expecting immediate and unquestioning obedience.
Cica falls in line with a nod.
Darius keeps a silent eye on the entire scene. He falls into the pack, following along with the “team.”
Certain she's already on this centurion's crap list, Ilistra falls in and stays with the group, head lowered.
Pladicus turns and follows the others, his posture stiff.
As they walk in silence, Cica finds herself starting to whistle nervously and then quickly quiets herself.
Not seeing much of a choice, our hero decided that falling in line was his best option for the moment. Perhaps his potent silver tongue could have resolved the matter. However, Garland was well aware that even his charm had its limits...
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The centurion leads the group out of the dining hall and back across the garrison to their own bunk house at a brisk marching pace. Once there, he motions to the space in front of the 13th contubernium's bunkhouse with his baton and screams, "FALL IN! ATTENTION!"
Once everyone is standing at attention the centurion begins pacing back and forth in front of them, a few inches from their faces. "I am
Centurion Yannis Antonis, your commanding officer. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be: 'Sir!'"
"You're the lowest form of life on Gaia. You are not even human f*~*ing beings! You are nothing but unorganized grab-asstic pieces of reptile s++~! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on red, blue, yellow, brown or black. Here you are all equally worthless! Your daddy does not matter! Rulers will be in the s%@! with serfs. Do you s!%% slurping maggots understand!?" He stops on front of Ilistra, his face frozen in the rictus of a growl an inch from hers.
When told to fall in line, the respectful Garland instantly recalled his basic training and affirmed with a strong, "Sir, yes sir!" He promptly followed through with Yannis Antonis' instructions. When asked if he understood, Garland again affirmed with a firm "Sir, yes sir!"
For now, our hero would play the game. There was no need to needlessly antagonize anyone, especially his superior officer. The last thing Garland wanted to do was start his career on the wrong foot.
Darius follows along with the expected protocols of the legion, joining in the chorus of ”Sir, yes sir!”
Placidus falls in and assumes the stance of attention with ramrod rigidity. When Antonis' tirade finally comes to an end, he snaps out a brisk "Sir, yes sir!"
Ilistra had spent most of her time in the kitchens, but had spent enough time on the Apollonia Guard barrack grounds that she'd witnessed a few dressing-downs by the centurions. She just had never thought she'd be on the receiving end of one, and didn't realize how unnerving it was to have someone screaming in her face. She flinched several times and instinctively put up her hands to protect her stomach and crotch.
She also couldn't find her voice right away, with his snarl right in her face. Fortunately, others shouted their response. With their reminder, she croaks out a pathetic, "sir yes sir."
Cica nods a crisp, "Sir, yes sir!" and then immediately becomes self-conscious about the syrup stain on her sleeve, and clasps her hands behind her back.
"Good!"
Antonis steps back from Ilistra's face. "I know you are new here, but that is no excuse for behavior unbecoming a warrior. From this moment onward everything you do reflects upon your legion and your century. The Seventh has a long and storied tradition that will not be s%@@ upon by you diaper wearers! I never want to see or hear of any of you doing serf's work again, unless there is absolutely no other option!"
"As motivation to remember your place, all of you can run your maggot asses around this yard ten times, and then drop and give me fifty press ups! MOVE, MAGGOTS!" Antonis starts whacking any of the 13th contubernium who do not immediately spring to with his baton.
Darius takes off, making certain to keep even pace with the rest, not trying to stand out as either the worst or best, preferring to remain lost in the anonymity of mediocrity.
Though used to backbreaking labor, running for no purpose and then the press ups leaves Ilistra shaky and tired.
"Sir, yes sir!" Cica begins the run along with the rest of the 13th, not expecting a problem.
When it comes to press ups, she realizes that there's a huge difference between the 20 they were asked to do in basic and 50 after a long run.
Wiping sweat out of her eyes, Cica manages a slight smile at the others. Through burning lungs, she whispers, "Well, I think we all learned something today, eh?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
Being fit as a fiddle, the hardy Garland easily kept pace with Darius!
Once the unit has completed their task, they are thoroughly soaked in sweat, no matter how fit they are. The sun has fully risen, and the temperature is scorching.
Centurion Antonis has the soldiers get some water and then fall in again, this time in the shade. "Now that that's out of the way, we can get to your real mission. Your first task as members of the Guard is to vet and potentially execute an intelligence asset. A man named Jask Derindi used to work as a clerk in the Ministry of Finance here. He was indicted some years ago on suspicion of corruption, by working with the Free Captains to subvert Apollonia. Derindi escaped and fled back to the Empire. Recently he was discovered working in Vita as a scribe by an agent of the Grand Custodian. The agent was able to apprehend Derindi and have him returned here to face justice."
"Apparently Jask Derindi was able to convince the brass that he has information valuable enough to keep him alive. You are to go and pick him up from the holding cells, and then investigate his claims. If it turns out that he is lying, you are to execute him on the spot. If what he says is true, fully investigate and then bring him back and report. I'm not clear on the details of his claims. Its need to know, and apparently I don't. Are your orders clear, soldiers?"
Placidus handles the exercise with the same lack of overt emotion he has presented to every other situation so far. When they are given their assignment, Placidus thinks for a moment and then replies, "Sir, they seem clear enough, sir!"
Ilistra blinks and glances around, still unsure if she's a soldier. She turns back to face Antonis. "Uh, yes, sir. Sir," she says, still out of breath, trying to get used to the military cadence.
An investigation? she thinks, but quickly realizes that she should be glad for it. Given how weak and fatigued her muscles were at the moment, she wouldn't be able to hardly lift them if they were given a physical task.
Darius gives a salute and his affirmation to the assignment along with the rest.
Interesting. Let us go and see what this man has to say...
"Sir, yes sir!" affirmed Garland with a crisp saulute. Orders (metaphorically) in hand, our hero prepared himself to interrogate his first villain! What would the wicked fiend say in his dastardly efforts to subvert justice?
Antonis nods. "Good. Don't f&*@ up. The holding cells are at the south end of the garrison. They are expecting you. Dismissed!" With that the centurion ambles off across the yard and begins yelling at other soldiers.
"Nke a dị ka ụdị nrọ," Ilistra mutters to herself as soon as the centurion's attention is off her. She again fights with the tunica, now stained with sweat.
"This is like some sort of dream."
She starts trudging toward the holding cells, keeping pace with the others. She can't help making furtive glances at Garland, his story about being burned by an ifrit causing her to wonder if he bore any grudges against all of the fire-blooded people.
Darius follows along amongst the rest to the holding cells. He knows how he would go about getting the information, but he was curious what methods the others would use...
The holding cells are easy enough to find. The the Apollonian Guard garrison is laid out like a standard legion camp, just larger and more permanent - a layout the new soldiers had been required to memorize in basic training. The cells are at the southern end, as Centurion Antonis described. The jail is low rectangular structure built from bricks made of local clay. The few small windows are barred, as is the sturdy gaviv wood door. After talking to the tribune in charge of the building, they are led to one of the cells inside by a pair of fellow guardsmen. The two prison guards stand back once the group reaches the cell, telling the newcomers to ask if they need anything.
Jask Derindi is a dark skinned suli man, whose hair is knotted into thick locks. He is dressed only in the rags of a scribe's plain linen tunica, and looks rather forlorn. He glances up as the group approaches. "Come to seal my fate, have you?" he asks in Vitan . His accent is a strange mixture of those from the Capital and the local polygot accent. "Or will I be allowed a chance to prove my innocence?"
”Perhaps, if you think such a Chance is warranted, you should take this opportunity to speak your mind and hope it’s adequate to warrant mercy,” Darius says bluntly as he steps over to the cell, remaining out of reach of the bars.
Garland also stepped forward and joined Darius, ultimately standing a half pace behind his fellow Narinar.
"Indeed. We are here to ensure that justice is carried out properly."
Ilistra stays in the back, saying nothing. Wide-eyed, she pays attention to the exchange and tries to get a sense of the captive.
"Well then you must know that I am falsely accused. Did the Governor accept my offer? I will lead you to the hidden temple if you give me a chance to prove that I never betrayed Apollonia?" Derindi looks hopeful for the first time.
Ilistra moves to stand directly behind Darius. She whispers in his ear, "I don't think he's lying."
”What sort of Temple? And why would this discovery lead to someone branding you a traitor?” Darius continues to ask.
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Jask frowns for a moment. "What are you, all new? Great..."
After a sigh he continues. "Clearly no one has seen fit to fully explain the situation. I am accused of treason - collaborating with the Free Captains to subvert the finances of Apollonia. I am not guilty. I believe I can prove this if I am able to find documents belonging to the man who framed me, one Captain Avret Kinkarian. His ship, the Brine Demon is wrecked on the shores of a nearby island, according to my research."
He pauses to allow this set of information to soak in. "I knew that the Baron would not be willing to forgive me on my word alone, and he is not the type to waste resources on an investigation when he could just execute me and be done with it. I needed some kind of leverage."
"Luckily for me, while working in the Vitan archives I came across the fragmentary notes of one of the original explorers of the area around Apollonia. Their name is lost to time, but not their claim that there is an ancient temple from Atlantean times hidden on the same island as Kinkarian's wreck. The island is called the Shiv, do to its dangerous nature and frequent use by local pirates. It is also said to be haunted." Jask blinks, realizing he is getting off topic.
"In any case, I have found no more recent record of the temple's discovery or excavation. The Baron is a greedy man, and one of the prime ways to strike it rich in the Grave is to find a trove of ancient treasure from before the War. I memorized the location of the temple, and destroyed the notes. Despite my discovery, I had no intention of ever returning here. Then, one of the Baron's agents just happened to recognize me when in Vita, and the choice was taken out of my hands."
"I do not want to die for a crime I did not commit, so I offered to take the Baron's men to the hidden temple in exchange for the chance to try to prove my innocence by finding the Brine Demon. I know the chance that there will be intact records is small after all these years, but I have no other choice. Apparently you are disposable enough to send to the island with me, on the off chance that I'm not lying."
"Which I'm not," he insists desperately.
"We go on boat, then?" Ilistra asks, lapsing into her 'simple native' persona.