“So. Are we all just gonna ignore the gorgon in the room?” One of the recruits asked, cutting through the tense silence in our barracks. We had been back there for about ten minutes, but it felt like hours at this point. Nobody had anything to say, though there were a thousand unasked questions behind those sealed lips. “Alright, I’ll do it then. You, Brandon, right? Are you a vampire?”

“Ease up there friend.” James’ voice came from the bunk below mine. “That’s some awfully heavy accusations to be throwing around, especially considering one of our own just got himself killed for acting on such an accusation.”

“Yeah? I think we all have a right to know, considering our lives are in his hands. So what if it’s hard to talk about? Welcome to life.” The guy countered, dropping off his bunk and heading our way. He was around 5’7” tall, with a sandy blond hair. Other than that, nothing really stood out about him. “Besides, I’m sure we all have things in our past that bother us. You don’t see us complaining about it, do ya?”

“Naw, but I don’t see you out there volunteering the information either.” Joffrey drawled. “We’ve stuck by Brandon the longest, and he told us that he would let us know his secrets in time. That’s good enough for me.”

“Yeah, well it’s not good enough for me.”

“ENOUGH!” I shouted, flipping out of bed and staring down all the recruits one by one. “Y’all are pissin’ me off, thinking that you deserve the story of my life because some idiot tried to kill me. I’m no vampire. You’ve seen me in broad daylight, and I haven’t burned up yet. And we already know there aren’t any master vamps our age, which means I can’t be a vampire.”

“Could be some other thing-“ The instigator started, only to have someone else put a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy there Lawrence. Brandon’s got a point. Hell, before this incident I didn’t even know his name, and you want him to open up with something that sensitive? This ain’t the way to go about it, and it sure as hell ain’t the way to build brotherhood like the Legion professes. So let’s do this right. We can go around the room, introduce ourselves. Give a bit of our story. Slowly build to where we can share some uncomfortable things. I’ll start. Name’s Dorian, I’m Senator Garrent’s second son. I think the most embarrassed I ever was, was when I got caught wearing my sister’s dresses. I was only six, and didn’t really know better, just thought they looked fun.”

“Nice to meet you Dorian. I’m Thomas, this is my brother Clint. We’ve been loading wagons for most of our lives, our family’s been part of the teamster’s for generations. Unfortunately neither of us can drive a wagon in a straight line, so we were gently persuaded to find something else to do. Not many guard outfits out there willing to take on raw recruits, so we headed to the Legion.”

The grumpy kid from earlier spoke next, “Bah, fine. I’m Lawrence, son of a cartographer. We move around a lot, so I guess I never really made a bunch of friends. Dad’s getting too old to do it by himself, and I’m not strong enough to get anyone to take me on as an apprentice to learn being a guard.”

“Phillip.” The tallest guy in our barracks said. He was a few inches taller than Clint, who was tallest in our little group at 6’. Dark hair and a pockmarked face, he looked like he could stand toe to toe with the instructors and take a few blows before they felled him. “Oldest son of a blacksmith, not that it helps. I can pound a block of metal into a sheet all day long and not break a sweat, but I can’t get the fine detail work that you need to be a great smith. Rather than waste Da’s time on something I knew I would only be mediocre at, I headed off to the legion. They’ll put my arm to use, and if I have a forge I can do rough repair work to our gear. Now Da can work with my little brother, who barely has to look at filigree before it jumps into the channels at his bidding.”

“Like everyone probably knows, my name’s Brandon.” I said. My hands and knees were shaking a bit, but I knew this had to be done. “About a year ago now, something happened. My memories about the turn are fuzzy at best. The only thing I can remember is waking up in the woods at night, and I was ravenous. Like I hadn’t eaten in days. I had no control over my emotions, and some small thing sent me into a rage. As I headed home, I came across my sister.” Several breaths sucked in at this point, but I kept going. “Yeah. I tackled her, and was seconds from ripping her throat out to get to the sweet life I could detect within. Then she spoke, and I managed to stop what could have been the greatest mistake I had ever made. I got her back to our village, and hunted for a local cave to hole up in until I could greet the dawn. It was supposed to be empty.”

“Instead of an empty cave, I found a girl. No. A hunter. She was in bad shape, could barely lift her sword. We made an unlikely duo, sitting there talking until the sun rose. As I held her so she could see one last sunrise, she asked me to kill her. Drain her, so the vampires chasing her couldn’t use her blood for some ritual. As my back burned, I did as she asked. Next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground staring at the sun, with a bit of knowledge in my head. I’m a sanguimancer, they were what vampires started out as before they became corrupted by their own power. I can use my blood or my enemies blood to fuel magic, but the sun doesn’t harm me at all. I can’t eat food, and anything I drink has to be at least half blood. The last restriction is that I have to drink the blood of a sentient being once per month. That’s all I know about what I’ve become, though several people have hinted there is much more that has been lost to the past.”

“By Solaris.” Someone muttered, and several people sat down. “Sorry, I’m Frederick, and my father is a member of the clergy. Does the church know this? N- n- not that I’d tell if they didn’t.” He stuttered at the end as several people nearby glared at him.

“They know.” I nodded. “It was our local priest that assured everyone that I was safe. Not that it mattered to some people.” I trailed off at the end, hopefully quiet enough for nobody to hear. Unfortunately, I was out of luck.

“Some people will always take an idea too far, you can’t blame yourself for it.” The guy in the next bunk said. “Name’s Alfred. It was either this or the gallows for me, and the only reason I got offered the choice was because what I did was in defense of another. My uncle was always a bit touched, and not always there. Couldn’t hold a job, and my spineless parents wouldn’t try and hold him accountable for whatever he did. Beat me black and blue to drive the devils out? Oh, that’s just how he is. Brand magic spells into the boy’s body for good luck? Why didn’t you run when he had the iron? Never mind that a ten year old boy isn’t going to outrun a full grown man. I took a good bit of abuse, but it was my sister that I had to protect because my parents wouldn’t. She turned ten this year, and was starting to develop. I could see him leering at her, and told my parents I didn’t trust him. That got me a beating for doubting family, but by then a beating was no big deal. And so I took it upon myself to never leave him alone with her. I could tell he was getting frustrated, and thought for sure my parents would notice. Then dad sent me on a trip to town, said it was important and that it would show I was growing up. He didn’t see the smile my uncle had, but I did. I headed down the road, waiting until I was out of sight before doubling back and running home as fast as I could. I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Alfred, you don’t have to-“ I started, only to have him hold up a hand as he wiped a tear away.

“It’s ok, it kinda helps. Nobody has been judged so far, and there are at least three of you who I know would do what I did. I burst through the door to the woodshack, and saw him leering over her. Telling her it was her fault, that the lust demons she was consorting with were driving him mad. Her eyes were closed, but I could see the tears as he did the unspeakable. So I grabbed the iron that he had branded me with, and I didn’t stop until his head was shattered. And when my parents arrived and tried to stop me, well. I turned on them in my fury, telling them that this was their fault, that they had failed to protect my sister. I didn’t kill them, but I broke several bones. My mother won’t see out of her right eye ever again, and it is unlikely that my father will be able to walk. By the time the guards arrived, I had nothing left. They gently took the bar from my hand, and slowly pried me from the hug I had around my sister. A priest had come, and covered her with a blanket and swore to me she would be ok. I didn’t feel anything again until three days later, when the Praefectus Castrorum came to my cell with an offer. I could hang for murdering my uncle and crippling my parents, though that would be the easy way out. Or I could live. Join the Legion. Half my pay would automatically go to my sister, who was being raised in the church. My parents were being exiled from the capital, and sent to somewhere I would never know. There would be some work they could do, but that was it. I chose to live.”

“Damn good on ya for that!” Came a quiet voice from the back. There was a short guy there, barely skin and bones with blonde hair. “Name’s Paul, but everyone calls me Small Paul or Smalls. Grew up on the streets, as my Pa barely made enough to keep him drunk. Got fairly good at nickin’ purses, though I knew well enough to keep away from any gang’s turf. Some of the local merchants would turn the other way for a while to let me sneak an apple or bread, but most of ‘em didn’t care. It was fine when I was younger, Pa used to just beat on me when he lost at poker or something. Then he started noticing how long my hair was, and how soft it was. Half the time he would pass out as he beat me, and those were the good nights. The rest of the nights, well. I wish I had you as my brother then. If I disappeared for a night, he would find me and drag me back. I would get beat, and worse. The day I was old enough to join the Legion? I gave him a special goin’ away present. I had found a bit of rope, and tied him up real good. A bucket of water to wake him up, and a rag to keep the screams down. Cut him so that he couldn’t do what he did to me to anyone else, washed my hands, and headed straight toward the legion. I don’t know if your punishment to them was better or not, but you ever need a hand? Just ask friend.”

The rest of the morning wasn’t nearly as heavy, as most of the people in our squad were second and third sons of farmers. Lacking anything to stand out from the crowd, and not wanting to cripple their brother’s lives by cutting into their inheritance, they headed to the Legion. Most of their stories were fun, if embarrassing because of the audience. One poor fellow had tried to sneak off to see a girl, only to be treed by a rather proud chicken.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Welcome to the afternoon teaching session.” Michio greeted us. “Today’s lesson seems to be one you all were lacking in, though I hope you are already taking pains to correct it. Brotherhood. When the Legion says it, we mean it. All the people in your squad, in your Legion are your brothers. They will lay down their lives to save yours, and you will do the same in return. That is part of what makes our Legion so powerful. Before the little incident, there have only been three cases where a Legion was required to be decimated. The first was at the death of Emperor Ishiwa. The Legion had let in assassins to kill him. It didn’t matter that he had driven the empire to the brink of collapse, what mattered was the Legion had abandoned its duty. Even the people cried out for mercy, but the Legion stood strong and took their punishment. The second and third were both during routs. A single cohort broke during an onslaught of ghouls both times, and their reinforcements abandoned their posts in the midst of the savagery of the enemy.”

“Now, I’m sure some of you are wondering how Brotherhood can make the Legion so successful. We will get into battle tactics later, but cohort style tactics are much different. First, we have the shield wall. Most of the barbarians you will engage will simply trust their rage and numbers to overwhelm the day, charging in a mass of limbs and weapons. We counter this with our shield wall. I trust my brother to protect my flank, as I in turn protect theirs. The front line of shields becomes a portable wall, stopping the enemy cold. And then the butchery begins. Spears from the second line cross over the wall to take the enemy in the head while our blades flash out in devastating stabs and short chops. The spears prevent people from breaching above, while our gladii prevent from below. All the enemy may reap is death.”

“Similar to the wall is the Testudo. If you are on a side, be it front, back or flank, you and your brothers make a wall of shields. Those in the middle will cover from above. In this way, we are protected from enemy archers while our cavalry and archers deal with the threat. Again, notice how each formation requires that a brother cover our own deficiencies. No soldier of the Legion may stand alone, for there will inevitably be gaps in his defense and offense. But grant him a band of brothers, and he will win the day.”

“Sir?” Lawrence asked, getting a nod from our teacher. “What happens if our enemy has shields, and attempts their own shield wall?”

“Ah, smart question young one. That is where our ranged attack comes in. And no, I am not referring to archers. Anyone familiar with the pilum?”

“I am sir.” James said, getting the nod to proceed. “According to my dad, it is a soldier’s best weapon against the shield. It is a small spear designed to be thrown. When it pierces a shield, something happens to it so that it is both more difficult to remove and next to impossible for the enemy to take it and throw it back at us in a lethal manner.”

“An excellent answer, and mostly correct. The trick is in how it’s made. Ask those with blacksmithing experience if you want, but here’s what I know. The tip is hardened, so that it will pierce the shield or armor with ease. Behind the tip is an iron bar that isn’t hardened, so that the force of impact will bend the bar. The rest of the pilum is wood. With impact, the enemy has three choices. First is the easy one, abandon the shield that now has a large, bent piece of iron and wood sticking out of it, throwing off the balance and adding weight. They could stop and try and twist the pilum out, but that isn’t likely with a horde of their fellows charging at their back. And even if they manage to remove the pilum, the front end is now bent. They can throw it, but the chances of the sharpened point hitting anything is minimal. In the end, most just discard the shield, leaving themselves open to our assault and creating a hazard for their friends to trip on.”