Whispers of a Dead Empire

"Lady Asteria, your legions await you." Kharon's voice echoed across the courtyard as clear as day before fading away in the wind that seemed to kick up even more. The Empress' cloak flapped idly on the wind as she stood there, taking in the sight of the legions that stood before her. Her eyes scanned the entirety of the troops that stood here, at least until they passed over us.

Behind her gaze, it felt like there was a monster gazing at us, just below the surface, yearning for release. It sent a wave of shivers down my spine as sweat formed beads on my forehead. After an agonizingly slow eternity, her eyes left me, and she strode forth between her soldiers. The breath that I didn't realize I was holding escaped from my lips, and I sank into my seat. At this moment, she felt so much different. In a way, she seemed so much more severe and unyielding.

Next to me, the sound of weeping filled my ears. They weren't the tears of sorrow but the tears of a pilgrim who had just completed a journey. "By the gods. The great ancestors, they are here." The halfling that sat a few seats away stared at the Empress. Tears streamed down her face, scintillating in the last few rays of sunlight that broke through the storm clouds brewing overhead.

"What do you mean?" I tore my gaze away as the weeping slowly grew quiet.

"The Empress bears the soul of a dragon, and the child is one herself. They are in the same family as the great ancestors." The woman wiped away the tears that had run freely down her face.

So that's what that monster on the shield was. Dragons rarely left the Aberthaol mountains. In fact, it was so rare that many considered them extinct. The last confirmed sighting of a dragon was many millennia ago, just before the fall of the Assyrians. But the fact that the Empress bears the soul of one raises more questions than answers. I pulled my gaze away from the halfling's face and back to the Empress, who was walking through the rows of her troops.

Once she reached the front of the formation, Alessia spun on the heel of her foot, and her burning gaze focused on the troops that were arrayed in front of her. "Attention!" Her voice cracked, broke through the silence that filled the air like a thunderbolt, and the legion before her snapped up straight. "Present Arms!" The legion all took out their weapons, taking various poses as one. The shaft of the spears touched the ground and was angled slightly towards the sky. Swords were brought up close to the face for more than two seconds before they were turned slightly and dropped to the waist. The ones who wielded bows kept their weapons sheathed and instead placed their hands over their hearts and were bowed slightly at the waist.

"Order Arms." As her following command rang out, the troops quickly repeated the process and sheathed their weapons. Their movements were smooth and precise, a far cry from their movements outside of this. It was like their muscles, though decayed and atrophied, refused to release the past memories. Once all the weapons were sheathed, Alessia issued her following command. "Officers. Forward march." In front of each formation, a single undead stepped forward and marched slowly and deliberately, at least until Alessia told them to stop.

"Inspect arms." Her voice bore no hesitation and was issued harshly. It made me think back to the conversation I had with Kharon previously about how the Praetorian guard grew as strong as they were. But now I know. Judging by how quickly and efficiently Alessia was belting out commands, I guess she is relentless. Even though they were undead, I felt pity for them.

As one, the presented officers quickly drew their weapons and repeated the process that I saw early, only this time, they extended the weapon out slightly and never dropped it down to their hips. The Empress stepped forward, leaving Nyx behind with Alessia. She strode forth to the first officer, who remained still. With movements, like a loving mother, she reached forward and knocked away some of the dirt that had built up on his uniform. Though the overall state of the outfit would be considered unacceptable, I don't think she minded all that much. Once she was finished, she looked over the weapon before moving on to the next.

With each officer, she treated them much like a mother would. Dusting off the uniform where she could and adjusting what was left were slightly skewed. It was something that most of the ruling class would never consider doing. In fact, I can't even remember a time when any noble has so directly interacted with any of their lesser officers. Looking back and thinking about her words, I should have expected her to do something like this. Alessia stepped forward once more and belted out more commands as she finished up. "Port arms." The officers quickly reacted and presented their swords once more. This time, placing them in front of their face, close enough to kiss the hilt, before they rested the blades on the shoulder. The spear users stood there, with the shaft touching the ground, and the tip, at a slight angle, with their hand on their back. A few heartbeats passed before the next order came. "Order arms." As the various weapons were sheathed, Alessia issued more commands. The officers spun on their feet as smooth as flowing water and marched back to the legion. Though it took a few extra steps to ensure they faced the front once more.

"The sheer discipline here is enough to make many of the king's commanders jealous." Cato's quiet voice teased my hearing, as his voice almost drowned by the sound of feet smashing into the ground.

"Aye," I replied quietly, not willing to interrupt the ceremony to any degree. Though it was true, the drill alone was as smooth as could be, and each soldier followed the command. Perhaps drills like this were commonplace in her military. No, not just commonplace. From the looks of it, they were a full-time professional force.

"At ease." Alessia barked at them once more, before spinning on her feet, and walking towards the door at the bottom of the outlook. The two palatines kept close to the Empress and her daughter as she walked towards the door before they vanished into the depths.

"How many kingdoms do you think can field multiple full-time armies and not go bankrupt?"

"Few. Maybe more if they required you to have your own arms and armor. Only in times of war do most kingdoms worry about constantly having a large army at their disposal." Cato's voice sounded grim as he took in the troops standing before us.

Before, we just saw them as mobs, something to kill for money and experience. But now, we see them for what they were for. These were warriors. The silence was still thick in the air as we waited for the next part of the inauguration. Which thankfully didn't take all that long. The Empress emerged from shadows that seemed to cling to her like a newborn. She walked over to the railing and nodded towards Kharon, who gave her a bow before he glided over to one of the chairs.

"Warriors of Asteria honored delegates, I thank you for coming today. Many of you are no doubt curious why I have you seated before one of my legions." She paused, and I felt her eyes as they passed over me. "I am sure that many of you may be filled with worry and doubt that my legions will be fielded to claim your lands as my own. But fear not." She leaned forward and grabbed onto the railings. "These honored warriors of Asteria have a different purpose. As does this celebration." Her voice was soft now, and her gaze much less severe than before.

Her gaze left us and focused on the undead that had gathered before us. "Warriors of Asteria, for years, we have sat here, clinging to the remnants of what we once were. We have fought, and we have bled. Many of us have been losing hope. Though in our darkest of hours, a hero has come to aid us." She pushed away and gestured towards the shadows in the overlook, and a foreboding presence filled the air. It was heavy and smothering and seemed to cling to every inch of me. Lightning flashed through the sky, and thunder split the air as a set of gray eyes broke through the darkness flashing, much like the lighting above. "My warriors, I present to you, Octavian Varus."

The legions reacted to that name, not in rage but in excitement. Spears were slammed into the ground. Swords bashed into the shields, and the metallic screams of happiness filled the air until the Empress rose her hand, silencing them. From the shadows, a man, impossibly large, emerged. His size was greater than that of the beast kin that sat nearby. His muscles were taut, threatening to tear through his pristine uniform. Around him, the air rumbled, and the sky seemed to bellow, returning a hero. He strode forth, arriving next to the Empress. He looked over the legions that stood before him, his scared face before turning to us. Though he radiated an impossible power, in his face was sadness. But not just any sadness. This was a man's face who looked as if he had lost everything. He closed his eyes as he gripped the railing. The sheer bulk of his gray hands quickly encircled the stone railing.

Droplets of water rained from the sky and landed gently on the giant of a man. Trails ran gently down the well-scarred flesh of Octavian's face as the rain started to pour even harder. For a few brief seconds, his eyes remained shut. But once he opened them, the sadness that I had witnessed vanished and was replaced by a righteous fury that seemed to burn away the water that had graced his decrepit flesh. Things were about to get very interesting.