Chapter 2: The Legion

General Titus stomped through the bloody halls of the former Samurai fortress. His look alone could kill, his aura demanded respect and obedience from his subordinates. He was a born commander. A few stray Knights found in his path either made themselves scarce or knelt, but Titus paid them no mind. Other things took priority.

The Legion forces in the east had turned the castle into an impromptu command post, any orders to Knights in the Myre were sent from this informal little hub. This meant it was the Legion's greatest asset in the war against the Chosen. If this backwater fortress fell, it could set them back weeks as they tried to relay orders to their armies. Soldiers are useless without commands.

Titus rammed the doors to his newly-conquered chamber aside. His commanders and confidants looked up from their meandering for a fleeting moment before returning to their duties. The old general continued down the warpath and marched further into the torch-lit war room.

"Where's that damn Peacekeeper?" He growled "I dispatched her a week ago. Anders should be dead by now."

Shrugs all around. Titus growled under his breath. He pulled aside a chair and plopped his leg foot on it, propping himself up as he eyed the Legion's battle plans. A weary old man like himself had no time for disobedience "Anyone want to chime in? Anyone at all?" The room turned its attention to the general in a more wholesale fashion.

A Conqueror crossed his arms  "Maybe she's just running late, can't rush things like this."

"Unlikely," The Peacekeeper next to him rammed her dagger into the wooden table "I'd wager she threw in her lot with the damn Warden." Her smug outburst was collectively ignored by the room, who had little else to offer the old Warden.

 Titus groaned, tiredly jotting down orders and passing them to a scribe. "I hope you're right Atticus," He ran a hand down his face "I hope to god you're right..."