Chrysalis

Commander Titus was a stoic man with a reputation for an Iron will and an unbreakable sense of duty. And it was true, he'd lived a hard life and had made hard choices without hesitation. Where others would shirk their responsibilities, Titus shouldered his burden with pride. For this, he was both loved and respected. The commander knew his reputation and did his best to live up to it. Square shoulders and a stern countenance were synonymous with Titus, as if his face and body had been carved from granite.

But if there was one thing that could push him to the edge of cracking, it was the person he saw coming toward him now.

The Legion had marched hard back to Railleh as the wave had waned and the shocking news of Garralosh's demise spread. The Legionaries had been in dire need of rest, but not all were able to receive it. As the technical crews, smiths and enchanters laboured long to repair worn weapons and armour, scouting parties had been dispatched to ascertain the environment within the Bulwark. Messages were sent to every outpost, ritual spells of communication were enacted to reach out to the wider Legion network and now they awaited word from their superiors.

With the wreckage of their homes weighing on their minds, Titus and his troops had been unable to rest. After the centurions had found the third party attempting to escape the barracks and venture to the surface, Titus had considered relenting and allowing a team to establish an outpost on the surface. When the fourth escape party had contained a good number of centurions, Titus finally gave the order that he himself would lead a full column to the surface. All advanced gear was left behind, only leathers and basic weaponry allowed. The soldiers were eager to be away.

Despite their victory in the lines, the soldiers' mood was grim. They knew roughly what awaited them above. A ruined city, a destroyed nation. How many of their loved ones had survived the slaughter? They pushed hard and Titus marched at their head, as relentless and unyielding as a stone. The Legionaries stuck to the main paths, as direct as they could be. What monsters they found were ruthlessly crushed.

the fourth day, as they were climbing up the main tunnel, they'd heard footsteps coming down. Titus raised a fist, then pointed to his left and right. Immediately archers had moved to covered positions along the walls of

on the surface. He could clearly hear the footfalls of those approaching, though they were still two hundred metres away. He could make out the tone of their voices, almost the words as well. Then

heard it. It was all he could do not to break ranks and run forward. To the soldiers around him it merely appeared as if he grew as still as a

they did, his eyes narrowed. Farmboys and merchants' daughters with shoddy gear, no levels and little training. In normal times he'd roll them up, smack their heads and boot them out of his Dungeon, but these were not normal times,

his will break and he ran to his daughter. He wouldn't stand for such a break of decorum, besides, if he tried Morrelia might just punch him. She wasn't one

Morrelia! Hey! Longtime no see!"

CRACK!

in all directions. Shouts of alarm and confusion arose but Titus himself hadn't moved, instead he remained at

How could he be so careless as to call out to Morrelia in front of the commander? It was well known that the legendary commander of stone doted on his daughter, even if he never let it show. The young Mage felt ice cold sweat rolling down his back as he felt as if he were grasped in a giant fist. He prayed that his

had recognised Donnelan, and his mind seethed with the torturous drills he would put the Legionary through the moment they got back. As she approached the Legion force, Morrelia couldn't help but sigh.

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