Aurelian fought with his bulging pack. Grunting as he heaved it onto his back once more. Several of the metal strips that made up his armor, jostled by the pack - bit uncomfortably into his back. A moment of awkwardly shuffling on his feet let them all settle back into proper order.
Order, he knew sighing in relief, was a lifesaver in his profession - especially as a scout. A vital piece of equipment not being in order was a death sentence on the battlefield. Yet alone when you were far ahead of your legion, deep in enemy territory, scouting.
He had seen one too many spell slink in between the enchanted metal strips of their armor. Metal that ought to have saved their life failing due to them having been displaced by an earlier tussle in the mud. Still, he mused, the dammed enchanters were right, being able to replace each individual metal plate after it shattered underneath a spell with a spare was worth the few downsides of the armor.
The rowdy column settled down into the stifling silence of discipline as their centurion walked down the line. Inspecting them one by one.
Aurelian had already doublechecked his kit as had everyone in his team. All was in order, as it should be. That didn't muzzle the unease within him. Their centurion was a bloodhound that could and would sniff out any mistake and tear viscously into them for it.
The centurion stopped at their contubernium. The men around him practically holding their breath as he inspected the eight of them. Far above the celestial sphere roasted Aurelian in its sweltering purifying radiance. Then again, that could just be the demanding glare he felt scrutinize him.
"All set?" Their centurion growled from a throat that sounded like it didn't know water existed.
The metallic thump came from all around in response. Aurelian's brothers saluting as one as they banged their left arm against their chestplate. The sound never got old, Aurelian thought, feeling it in his bones.
"Good."
Aurelian felt an icy wave of air erupt from the centurion. The sensation of a piercing gaze turning into a thousand eyes with the swiftness of a skill.
"Good." The centurion repeated before saluting crisply, "Standby until it is our turn for transit," he barked. Abruptly the man left, continuing his hunt for a legionnaire to tear into.
Aurelian respected the man. Say what you want about him and his ancestors. Werewolves, if you were to listen to the crap men said about the man but one thing that was sure. Their centurion cared about them. Everyone had one time or another heard him sob in his tent, each night when they lost a man. That was why, they would follow him into damnation and beyond. Besides, the mans almost single-minded obsessiveness had no doubt saved scores of men.
A cloud passed by momentarily, and Aurelian heard the sighs turn to curses as it left. The sun here was merciless, redder than the star, Aurelian called home and by far more sweltering, gratitude once again filled him for his rare skill.
If he could marry a skill, he would have proposed to [Steadfast] the day he first lay eyes upon her.
Smiling nostalgically, he reveled in the weather. Instead of the merciless heat that cooked the men around him, all he felt was a mild and balmy warmth. He toggled the skill off with a thought and the harsh and unforgiving weather staggered him. Another flick and he gazed at the brows glistening with beads of sweat around him.
"Who do you think, invited the fiery star to the war?" He joked, pointing upwards with his thumb as it rested on the wooden shaft of his spear.
The punch came out of nowhere, impacting his shoulder with a dull thud.
"Learn from its red-hot surface and be silent like it is, Aurelian or else you will find more where that came from." Adhelmar chuckled. "We are far from the light of that pleasant golden star of yours that you call home."
Aurelian laughed heartedly in response.
"That is rich coming from you, Adhelmar. How can you even speak with that golden spoon in your mouth. And oh, Aurelian, you bastard. Turn that skill off and suffer with the rest of us like real men." Octavian interjected to the agreement of the rest of the contubernium.
Aurelian looked over towards Octavian who appeared to almost be drowning in sweat with the best shit-eating grin he could muster.
"Sounds like someone is jealous they don't have a a rare skill."
"I'll make it rarer, if you don't shut up soon. And wipe that smirk of your face," Octavian quipped glaring and shuddering. "Swear, on the Halls, Adhelmar. You should have seen his face, for a moment I thought there was two of you."
Barely audible someone whispered, "One bastard is more than enough."
"Sounds to me, Octavian, like someone has been staring at my face too much. Although I can't blame you for that." Adelmhar chuckled. "Now, now, Octavian leave the killing of Aurelian to the Hosoterans." He continued before smiling and adding, "Not that this heat would bother a veteran with the amount of endurance Aurelian has, now would it? Though I think he would rather be dead than toggle that skill of his off."
"Sorry, sir." Octavian said demurely before saluting. "Didn't see you from behind that haze of icy air rising from that custom enchanted armour of yours. Good to see you, was just about to call the chaplain for an exorcism. Thought we had a ghost problem."
Aurelian let the familiar and friendly banter flow over him as he heard ahead their cohort's trumpet blare to life. The bickering men around him vanished. Taciturn soldiers taking their place. As one their cohort began marching towards the obsidian archways and the iridescent nebulas that shimmered beneath their pitch-black surface.
The surface of the portal, sandwiched in between the two sides of the Gateway rippled chaotically, pulsating like a heart. Oscillating from one beat to the next with wild waves that crashed into one another soundlessly. Their ripples and wakes obliterating each other until the portal was smooth like glass. Aurelian stared at the awe inspiring display. The unfathomable depth of the surface of the portal, despite its width being as thin as a feather.
The mind, he knew, liked to play tricks on one when you gazed into the portal but for a moment, Aurelian thought he saw judging eyes staring back at him from within.
The repeating pattern of the portal had always helped to calm him. Like the ebb and flow of the seas or the dancing flames in a hearth. It helped him keep his mind off the fact - that no one, knew how the portals worked.
[Chronicle], he willed. He like most others in his profession were a superstitious bunch, and this small ritual before he ventured forth has kept him safe all these years.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Name: Aurelian au VIII
Titles [Legionnaire], [Tried and Tested], [Veteran], [Deathbound]
Class: [Enduring Gale]
Acclaim: Perseverance IV, Ironwrought, Bloodied, Windkissed, Deathbound, EnduringLevel: 68
Strength 45
Constitution 48
Endurance 57
Dexterity 43
Intelligence 22
Wisdom 13
Resonance: 7
Willpower: 25
Skills:
Passive [Discipline], [Veterans Swordsmanship], [Veterans Spear], [Formation III], [March],
Active:[Chain of Discipline], [Last Stretch], [Javelin], [Swipe], [Counterattack], [Linked Armour], [Stealth], [Identify], [Analyze]
Dual: [Galewalk], [Steadfastness], [Tempest]
It calmed him seeing his growth from one deployment to another. Fastened his resolve with the knowledge that his duty not only strengthened the Empire but also his eternal soul. With a mental command, [Chronicle] faded from view. A last step later and Aurelian was up on the stone pedestal. A few strides away from him, the portal stared back at him. The absolute size of it encompassing his entire vision and continuing far past it.
He didn't waver, mindful of the three greenies in his conternbium. Looking confident was the best way he could help them. If he wasn't scared, they wouldn't be either. And oddly, enough, Aurelian mused as he took a deep breath.
He wasn't hesitant this time.
It was like plunging into icy waters. The cold liquid surface of the portal flowed over him greedily. Both slippery and rough, grabbing and releasing at the same time. A soft pop to his ears and he was through the veil. The bustling sound of armour creaking, clattering and clanking as the column marched vanished into unnatural silence.
There was no sound in the passageway.
Disorienting as the process was, Aurelian followed his training. Anchoring himself onto the familiar rhythm of the march that was ingrained into his bone marrow at this point. Feeling his heart slow into a steady rhythm as he centered himself - he opened his eyes.
And froze midstep, his heart thundering in his chest, galloping like a horse charging, at the sight before him. The rhythm of marching all but forgotten.