Toric waited for the recruits to disembark and then he led the others down the ramp to a small group that stood to the side, obviously awaiting them. There were three tribunes, two Legates, a double strength squad of sixteen Legionnaires, and an old man wearing a white robe with the symbol of an eight pointed star emblazoned in gold on the front, a priest of Daath.

The oldest of the Legates stepped forward, bearing the insignia of the Legate First. This was the commanding general of the Legion, the man that was left in charge after the Commander became frozen in time, and if anyone was likely to be upset about Toric’s arrival it was him. However, that was very obviously not the case, as the Legate First stepped forward and hugged Marrick emotionally, turning and saluting fist to heart to Toric with stiff and formal bearing.

“It is my distinct pleasure to meet you Toric, please remove your helmet; you have nothing to fear here.”

Toric chuckled and slipped the helmet off, hooking it back on his belt and smiling at the older man.

“It is an honor to meet you sir. We have a great deal to discuss; should we move this out of the sun? I don’t mind, but dad is getting a bit old and cannot bear up under the heat like he used to.”

Marrick stared at Toric in shock. He had been doing so well, but that was a totally inappropriate joke in this moment. Then the insult registered and he reached out and smacked the back of Toric’s head, dismissing the thought about how inappropriate his actions were.

The old Legate was holding his sides and laughing at the antics. Finally he got himself sorted out and motioned to the priest.

“Brother Augustus has something that he needs to say, and then we will move your little comedy act indoors.”

The priest glared at the Legate, but it just bounced off the old man. Finding himself ignored the priest turned to a younger target, stepping up to Toric and now finding he had to crane his neck to look up at him. The priest grumbled and stepped back so he could stand more naturally, and he finally got to the point.

“Young man, I have been led to believe that it was you who summoned Daath just a few hours ago, is this true?”

The priest made the simple question sound like Toric had committed a grave sin, but it did not faze him nearly as much as the priest had obviously intended to.

“No Brother, I did not summon Daath. I owe Daath my allegiance, my life, and my sword; he would be the one doing the summoning. I made an oath in his name, and he chose to come and reinforce it. Am I to understand that doing so was somehow wrong?”

The priest glared full force at Toric but had to backpedal quickly.

“No, of course it is not wrong to make a truthful oath in His name, and you are correct, you cannot force Daath to come to you, I misspoke. What occurred of such gravity that you had to make such a binding oath?”

Toric turned and gestured to the four Legionnaires standing guard with the Legate and tribune, indicating for them to advance. The Legate First turned and frowned at the sight. He was quick to question it.

“Why is our newest Legate here under guard, and with her cousin?”

Toric smiled sadly as a piece clicked into place.

“She is the reason I had to resort to the oath, Legatus.” Toric did not notice the old form of Legate rolling of his tongue as he spoke, but the others did. “Her cousin was dismissed from my service yesterday and I thought he was on his way back here for discipline. Marrick can give you the details later. Instead when I arrived at the embassy to board the galley I found the tribune with the Legate. She accused me of being an imposter and assumed I would arrive here, be tested, and then be crucified. I was prepared to ignore her ignorance at first, but next she publically shunned me and basically told me to join the other recruits. I was about to act against that insult, but Marrick stopped me. When she saw Marrick she called for guards to come and arrest him and immediately prepare a cross for the crucifixion of a man pretending to be a Legate of the Legion. That was when I swore the oath to prove my lineage and thus my step-fathers. I found it interesting though that none of the Legionnaires at the Embassy moved to obey her, I am certain that the older ones recognized Marrick, but still you would think a good Legate would command some personal loyalty from the troops under her command. I brought her and the tribune with me to speak their case. I will leave them in your hands, Legatus. These men I borrowed from the trainers escorting the recruits; if you could replace them I would be obliged. I told their officer I would return them to duty as soon as I could.”

The Legate First was furious and shocked. It was not a combination of feelings he was very accustomed to, but after a moment he got himself together and turned to bark a few orders. Two men came into view; they wore classic articulated lorica armor, of burnished steel over scarlet red shirts. The only change from the original Roman armor was the addition of armored pants made of red-dyed leather with steel plates affixed. Each one was identically armed, a gladius rode low on their left hips, cocked at an angle for a cross-body draw, and they carried tall spears. These were the First Squad, eight men that served as the bodyguards of the Legate First. They always wore the same armor, dating back to when the Legion had first arrived on this world, and they were always chosen because of their skill. There were no political appointees among them; just hardened veterans. Two of them approached and relieved the four trainers, and quick thank you from Toric sent the trainers back to their duties.

The Legate First marched over to the female Legate and spat a single word at her.

“Why?”

The woman stood her ground and stared right back at the Legate First.

“We have worked, sweated, and bled for all our lives to get where we are within the Legion, and now this kid just appears from nowhere and claims the Legion as his own? It is not right. He is fifteen years old; he still has his baby fat for god’s sake. What has he done to earn this?”

The Legate First just stared at her sadly for a long moment. When his answer came it was in a low, almost whispering tone.

“This boy sacrificed everything he had for the Legion before he even had a chance to know he had it. His mother is bound beyond his reach; trying to save his father, our Commander. His father saved six-thousand Legionnaires, myself included, and in doing so condemned himself to a living death that has lasted for fifteen years and will continue for another five. He was raised without knowing his parents, raised by a man that you ordered crucified. That man, Marrick is the Legate Third and did more to earn his position than you ever have. Moreover, the Legion is not about arrogance and pride; did you not listen when the ‘boy’ spoke. We are family, and you should have welcomed a long lost brother with open arms, not scorned him as a stranger. Lastly, he did not seek us. He did not even know to come looking for us. The Legion reached out to him when we knew he was close. You have shamed us all, and I will leave your punishment up to the Heir.”

Turning to the tribune he glared until the man dropped his eyes, and then just shook his head in sadness, seeing the rot of entitlement had spread more widely than he had ever imagined. Gesturing to the two members of the First Squad he gave a few quick instructions for the both of them to be confined to low level guest quarters and issued field rations and water for meals. Then he turned back and started to apologize to Toric.

Toric raised his hand to forestall the apology.

“There is no need Legatus, you did not do these things, and while I understand the chain of command and that you feel responsible, please know that in this I do not hold you as such.”

Toric looked at the priest.

“Are you satisfied that I had good cause to call upon Daath in my oath?”

The priest looked startled and then recalled that he had initiated this conversation.

“Yes Lord Heir.”

Toric nodded and returned his attention to the old Legate.

“Let us go inside Legatus. Perhaps a tour of the Fort is called for, my memories are all dated to before the war, and I would much like to see how it has changed.”

The Legate First, the priest, and all those present looked confused at that statement, but Toric did not notice, already striding purposefully toward the Fortress. Marrick lagged behind and quickly explained to those following that Toric had access to the memories of everyone that he shared blood with in a direct line back through time. The priest looked ecstatic and wanted to start asking question immediately, but Marrick forbade it. Toric was still spinning from all the added information and he was going to need time to get his mind settled.

As they walked the group followed Toric, marveling in the fact that he seemed to know every twist of the halls, each nook and cranny in the rooms, and then suddenly he stopped at a dead end in a hall. The Legate First walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“This is a dead end Toric, your chambers are back this way, come on.”

The man spoke gently, tugging at the boy’s shoulder, but he did not move.

Toric didn’t hear the Legatus; his mind was centuries away, millennia even, watching this wall being built over a doorway. He was supervising the work and making certain that the masons built it so it would look seamless and like a natural part of the stonework. Daath had commanded that this be sealed, as it was no longer needed and a danger to the future Legionnaires. He said it would come to light again in time, but it would be ages before what was concealed ever saw the light again. Toric stepped forward, moving away from the others, and lifted his hand behind him to motion them back. His left hand pulled the war-hammer from his belt and his right donned his helmet to activate the strength enchantments and shield his eyes.

Marrick shrugged when the First looked at him and backed away, motioning for the others to move back as well. Then they watched as Toric gripped the hammer and turned to the side, swinging with all of his personal, magnified strength focused into the head of the hammer. Thousands of pounds of force were poured into that single six inches square bit of steel and when it struck the wall on a precise point, the entire edifice crumbled away. A long hallway was revealed and a gesture from Toric sent fire jumping along the sconces, lighting each one all the way down the gently sloping ramp. The priest and Marrick and the First quickly catch up with him, but Toric turns and holds up a hand.

“Legatus, please bring two of your men. Brother Augustus, you cannot accompany us; this area is forbidden to the clerical arm. Marrick, I need you to stay here and not allow anyone else to pass. I will show you later, but for now you are the highest rank I have available to bar the way until a door can be built.”

Toric started to turn back away, but the priest was incensed.

“How dare you, boy! The priesthood has the right of way to every inch of this Island and you have only just arrived; now stand aside or I will have you ejected from this Fortress.”

Toric had no inclination to deal with the petulant cleric and simply gestured with his right hand. A cage of fire sprang up around the priest and he ignored the man’s screaming to turn back toward the flickering ramp. The Legate First and his two most senior guards followed him quickly. The guard’s eyed Toric’s back with expressions of mixed awe and fear. It was a long walk and the floor never once leveled out from the slope, nor did it turn. By the time they reached the bottom, the Legatus estimated they had journeyed at least a mile out and maybe six hundred feet down.

Another one of the fire gestures from Toric lit a pit of oil in the back of the room, the fire raced out from the central brazier along half-pipes inlaid on short stone walls until there was light flickering from fires around nearly the entire circumference of the room. In the center of the circular room was a short altar with a chair sitting behind it. The chair was strange to the eyes of the Legatus and his men, constructed of thick wooden beams that seemed to be hand carved and inlaid with pearls and seashells.

Suddenly one of the guards shouted in surprise and then gasped as recognition flowed through his mind. A figure was striding out from a blank wall, immediately recognizable as Daath. The second guard and the Legatus both knelt where they stood. Toric strode forward to the altar and knelt there, slipping his helmet off and setting it next to his knee. His head came up and looked at Daath as He sat on his throne in this ancient shrine.