The harbor of Rubica laid aglow in the evening light, its waves just visible beyond the dark rooftops and bronze bricks. Caesennia observed the lapping waters from the cracked window of Ravenna Castello, watching as the glowing chariot of Helios dipped into the ocean. The sea itself was beautiful, yes, but the real appeal to Caesennia—the reason she lusted and sought to sail across the waves—laid in what those boundless waters carried. The islands, the ships, the people from all over. Lands spoken to be greater than Ravenna, so vast as to nearly be comparable to the continental landmasses of legend from days long past. Days when the world was whole, and the sea not laden with magic. From the accounts of those souls fortunate enough to travel across the seas, Ravenna was rather large—more so than any other island in the Bronze Sea. But even it could only satisfy the centurion’s wanderlust for so long.
Caesennia sighed as she took her hand from the window’s cracks. Ordinarily, repairing such a pane would be no pain: the builders could simply ask Julian to supply them with a brand new screen with his Glass Curse. As of late, however, the general had been uncooperative. It had been nearly three months since the invasion, and he no longer bore any physical injuries. Yet something evidently still troubled him, and while Caesennia had a hunch on what some of those somethings were, she also valued her life and limbs too much to bring the topic up. Around Julian, at least.
A creaking echoed from behind, and a hand tapped the side of Caesennia’s shoulder plate, confirming that the general was done talking to the previous centurion. She turned, before striding into his office, pulling the dark door shut behind herself.
The entire space was decorated with pristine, crystalline glass acting as highlights to the furniture. Nowhere else in the world would Caesennia expect to see an olive-wood table set with a rim which reflected light like polished diamonds. Nor would she expect to see a chandelier of almost pure glass set on the ceiling in any other office. Nor would she expect to see the walls covered in a cracked glass screen, where the firelight ran up and down the tiny crevices like little slivers of magma. She didn’t have to look around to know every other detail about the room; she had been in it enough. The most recent addition—a set of shed black-purple scales—laid on an embroidered cloth set on an olive platform like an object of reverence. Along with a glass face whom Caesennia had never seen quite clearly enough to recognize.
“Centurion.” Julian said from his desk, his unkempt bronze hair tumbling before his tired grey eyes.
“General.” She regarded with a salute, placing her right fist just below her opposite clavicle.
“You’re being moved to Shell Island.” He said without pomp or filler. “You’ll be leaving in three days aboard The Dutchess.”
Just like that? The centurion blinked, hardly able to believe her ears. After years of being declined every opportunity to move, he decides now is the time? Why?
Evidently able to see Caesennia’s shock, Julian tilted his head. “Have you not wanted this for years, centurion?”
“I- yes, sir.” Caesennia regained her composure and closed her gaping mouth.
Julian sighed, his grey eyes flickering to the book below him, which displayed names in organized columns. A few of which had been crossed out. “Ravenna needs to be ready for an attack from the southwest. And we’re nowhere near it.” His expression hardened. “If Ketch and Cinders did anything, it was proving that no amount of power or might is reliable insurance for someone’s life if they bear no curse. Calvus, for all the faults in training, was nowhere near weak. And Argos was a man of legendary exploits. Elius and Carina were also promising.” The general shook his head. “You were involved in their training, were you not?”
Caesennia swallowed. “Yes, sir. Though their father did more for them than I ever could.”
Julian waved her off. “I do not blame you for their failures, centurion. If Calvus couldn’t kill Ketch after he was forced into hard labor for a month straight, then Elius and Carina never stood a chance.”
The general summoned a shard of glass in his hands, twisting and shaping it into the shape of a crude dagger absentmindedly. “Your transfer is for the sake of training up a new century on the island. We’ve had new volunteers, but Ravenna itself is in a state of chaos right now, and we thought it easier to have you and a few others train the recruits away from Ravenna, while bringing the group already stationed there back. Is that understood?”
Caesennia quickly nodded. “Yes sir.”
“Good.” Julian said, leaning back in his chair and brushing his orange-blonde curls aside with the flat of the glass knife. As he did, his other hand absentmindedly pulled back the book before him, revealing another, far more ancient tome beneath it. Caesennia’s eyes found its pages, noting the words written in a hasty, uneven scrawl. She caught the words ‘monsters of the Dark Sea’ before Julian again shifted the modern record atop the older tome. And when she looked up to meet his eyes, they were even more humorless than before. “I believe that’s all, centurion.” He said in a tone of deadly calm. “You are dismissed.”
Caesennia didn’t need to be told twice.
Days later, the harbor was abuzz with activity. Caesennia had been down to the stone-brick docks multiple times before, but only now was she finally set to board one of the vessels of the Bronze Legion. Merchants, knowing of Ravenna’s damaged and depleted state, were rushing to sell items of both genuine utility and meaningless comfort to the passing residents. Fishermen presented their catches, selling more than ever before at prices noticeably grander. As the ensigns finished marching onto the transport galleon dubbed The Dutchess, Caesennia followed suit, taking a moment to savor the sea’s cool spray as it caressed her calves. She still could hardly believe the events unfolding before her, even less than the events which took place months ago. Finally, finally, the centurion could leave Ravenna. For the first time. Were she not concerned with her pride and dignity, her movement onto the ship probably would’ve been far more ecstatic.
After the planks had been raised, Caesennia stood before the cramped collective, all fitted in scalemail of gleaming bronze. Some of them—to the centurion’s disappointment—didn’t even seem to be wearing their weapons properly. Gazing out to the group, it was clear that Julian had not exaggerated in calling them brand-new; these men and women were far from being legionnaires. They barely even qualified as ensigns, standing around so disorderly, with attitudes ill-prepared for any kind of combat.
Caesennia took a deep breath, moving her mind beyond her bodily senses. Describing how she felt things with aura was difficult. It was a far cry from the way one saw, heard, or smelled the environment. No, the sensation was more akin to touch, but as if performed with some other extremity, like her skin had been taken and stretched to cover the world. The dame could feel the way each individual aura in the crowd swirled around its owner. Most in Ravenna called this power their individual Genius, a guardian spirit said to have been granted to all humans as a consequence of the Firebringer’s gift of magic. All varied in potential, size, and sensation. Some Geniuses bore obvious signs of magic, emanating an unmistakable flavor. She counted maybe six with magic potential in the crowd—a disappointingly low number. Most centuries held somewhere between ten to twenty mages.
The centurion eased out of her sensing right as that same, strange sensation bombarded her from the south. She’d grown used to it, but to that day still did not know what it was. It couldn’t be a Genius-aura—none were that vast. Not even that of Wotan’s, which she occasionally could single out, an entire sea away, if she concentrated on it. This… feeling, though, required no such effort to locate, just as the sun took no searching to find.
Whatever, you have a speech to give. Casennia told herself, slipping out of sensing entirely and glancing down to the parchment wadded up in her hand. She scanned its scribblings several times. How tired was I when I wrote this? Did I do so with the pen held in my feet? Eventually, she realized that it’d be impossible to decipher whatever in Hades she wrote the night before, tossing the paper aside.
“Attention, soldiers!” She called, allowing her aura to amplify her voice; a trick she had learned from observing Argos use his own aura during rallies. Everyone straightened to attention. Even some of the merchants at the docks, standing too far away to hear an ordinary shout. “Days ago, you made the choice to cease to be bystanders and ordinary civilians. That—the single greatest decision of your lives—has lead you here to me; Centurion Novia Aurelius Caesennia. Starting at this very moment, from your decision to stand for your realm, you become the pride of Ravenna: our soldiers. We depart for Shell Island for your training, and to cycle out those ready for combat. Know that the life of a legionnaire is one of absolute loyalty, and that this strength does not come from soft blankets and reckless brawn. It is honed by discipline and methodical practice of techniques perfected over centuries.”
She walked up to the group, lowering her amplification just slightly to not burst anyone’s eardrums. “This is not to be a time of ease, but I tell you now: every drop of sweat you spill in training is a drop of blood not spilled in combat. For the sake of those in Ravenna—your families, your friends, your fellow soldiers, and even yourselves—take this training as the most significant aspect of your lives. Do this, and you, along with Ravenna, will live to see the next sunrise.”
Probably not perfect, and maybe I should’ve berated them more for their pitiful discipline, but ah well. Caesennia thought to herself, sitting below The Dutchess’ deck in her private quarters. It was a small room, not that of a ship’s captain, but it was isolated from the rest of the soldiers. It was a decent enough speech, regardless. Took a few pieces from how Argos gave them. Minus the fact that I didn’t call them mangy, teat-sucking dogs like he did, but I probably would’ve burst out laughing if I actually said that outloud.
The centurion had retired early. She hadn’t intended on doing so, instead secretly planning on staying up half the night to watch the waves and, hopefully, see some of the islands as they sailed. Unfortunately, an unusually powerful fog had rolled in, preventing anyone on board from seeing more than the ship’s length out. Thus, after talking so much her voice grew weak, she headed to bed shortly after the sun set. After enjoying a bath that was. Turns out that the rumors of Ravenna’s ships having mini bathhouses was true. Tomorrow would be nothing but sailing. Along with the next day. According to the two other accompanying centurions, it took around four days to make it to Shell Island from Ravenna with this kind of ship.
Caesennia had set aside her armor and weapons, sitting on the bed for a moment of meditation. Spending time sensing nearby auras was good practice, and helped her relax. She exhaled, feeling once again the energy of the crew, the radiant magic energy of the sea, the innate energy permeating the air. In a way, she could feel the waves’ caress even from within the cabin.
Still can’t believe I’m here… the dame thought to herself. After all these years, finally, finally I get to move from Ravenna. Even if it’s just to Shell island. She found herself grinning as she laid back onto the bed. I mean, training everyone up will take up most of my time, but I’m sure I’ll be able to have some time to explore. Hell, may even lead the recruits around the place under the guise of “exercise”. Yeah, recruits, today we’re taking a hike. It’s for your vigor and strength, trust me.
Caesennia allowed her sensing to cease, feeling as her aura rapidly fell back to her from the sea’s expanse. Sensing this close to the sea felt different. It was like trying to see underwater—everything was blurred. The ocean’s surface constantly produced its own aura of sorts, lightly charged with magic, which laid over every other presence nearby.
Satisfied and comforted, Caesennia allowed herself to lay back and close her eyes. Though, in her excitement, the dame found sleeping a more arduous task than usual. Nevertheless, after nearly an hour and a half, the centurion’s breathing evened, and her eyes closed.
The following day was indeed little more than sailing for the ship, and little more than drilling for Caesennia and the other centurions on board. Quickly she came to realize just how unprepared this legion was. It was one thing if the men and women were slower than trained legionnaires, had less endurance, and required instruction on aura. It was another to stand before the group and to realize that several members had put their scalemail on backwards, that their helmets were uneven, and some held their swords too low. How in Hades someone could make such mistakes was beyond Caesennia, but nevertheless, they had happened.
The group’s drills—once she sorted out all the other issues—were… average. Or rather, they averaged out. The troops did show unusual enthusiasm and vigor, but most displayed not even the slightest skill or knowledge of weapon use. Nevermind controlling their auras for more advanced weapon moves, Caesennia had to constantly remind them to keep their shields up while doing attack drills with their training blades.
Hours later, the centurion found herself sitting with the others over their dinners. The conversation, initially about the recruits, quickly turned to matters within Ravenna.
“It’s been nearly three months and the general still doesn’t seem the same.” Sir Revian complained, gesturing with the chicken bone held between his fingers. There was little question to which Ravenna general he referred to. After all, there weren’t many left. “Sits in his glass-filled room half the damn day while the kingdom continues to fall apart. He’s not injured anymore, so what in the name of Hades is wrong with the man?”
“Oh, give it a rest.” Dame Victorias chided. “The intruders got past him and killed Calvus. Along with the countless other casualties. Probably blames himself for all that happened, and what he could’ve done better.”
Revian snorted. “We’re the Bronze Legion, the glory of Ravenna! We shouldn’t be moping about could-haves or what-ifs. We have enough of concern already: a new king, catching Cinders and Ketch, and a possible war from Keraxe.”
Caesennia had to agree. Julian’s continued bad mood was beginning to weigh down on the entire legion. That said, she suspected the cause to be more than just mere guilt. Something had gone on. And, whether he was aware of his own actions or not, Julian was making that fact known to all who came across him.
“Speaking of the new king, what do you think of him?” Caesennia tried, her voice set in a neutral tone.
The two across from her exchanged glances. Their thoughts were likely the same as hers regarding to the now-king Revon Ceasar.
“Well…” Victorias tried after a long, before her voice faded into the sound of lapping waves and buffering winds. She seemed to scramble for a less obvious view to express. “He certainly is… passionate. I’ll say that much.”
Revian sighed. “I suppose, but kingship is not a position to be lead with passion alone.”
“Even so, drive is important.” Victorias replied. “Though my concern is if he is blinded by vengeance for Calvus.”
Revian’s expression darkened, his eyes housing a murderous rage. “I don’t blame him. Ketch, Cinders… what was that other one called? Lashtia? Lassdus?”
“Iris Lasadh, a former citizen of Ravenna.” Caesennia stated. “They suspect she used a fire mutation magic.”
The man shook his head in disbelief, clenching his teeth and grasping his brow. “A woman barely out of adolescence with a mutated magic, reports of one of the attackers wielding the gods forsaken Death Curse, a lightning conjuror who tore up the entire hall and slew the king, and a magma warlock who singlehandedly took on the entire elite guard before the Castello… I don’t know who hired this group, but they should be regarded as a serious threat. Not just to Ravenna, but to the entire War Seas. That thrice-damned woman Cinders killed a quarter century in two minutes, and she wasn’t even the most powerful of the attackers.”
Caesennia thought back to the time she had sparred a man she would later learn to be Kaden Ketch. While his weapons skill wasn’t extraordinary, his aura held a certain unusual strength to it. A strength she swore grew just slightly every day she met him. And then, of course, there was the magic circle he spawned. It alone, without even summoning forth a spell, screamed of chaotic doom. Like the king of the gods himself had come alive once more to deliver divine wrath through the hands of a scrawny boy.
“Guess there’s always someone stronger, eh?” She sighed. “The gods are long gone, but that doesn’t mean those with power akin to them have ceased to roam the world.”
Victorias nodded. “Right, and that’s why training up this new century is important.”
“Can’t deny it pisses me off, though.” Revian growled, clenching his fists onto the table. “Caesennia, you’re the youngest at this table, and yet you still stand a decade older than the majority of the attackers. We train, practice, and study war using the best of our resources. As we age, we only gain further understanding—and it’s not like we’re so old as to be weak. Yet our army was torn apart by a group who were little more than teenagers. Three centurions dead in the attack, our king slain, and a curse-holder incapacitated. From. Teenagers.”
“Weren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t be moping?” Victorias interjected. “And frankly, what does it matter that they were?”
Caesennia leaned back in her chair, sighing as she watched the pair argue. Ever since she had known them they had been like this. Always bickering like an old married couple. Earlier in her years Caesennia tried to get them to stop by saying things like ‘why don’t you quit arguing and go make out?’ or ‘daw, you two are so adorable, go get married.’ Now, though, she felt too tired to even try to mediate between the pair. Without another word, she got up, took her plate over to the pile, placed it inside, and walked through the group of eating ensigns. All of whom were talking loudly, their voices excited and full of anticipation. Almost none of them noticed Caesennia’s movements.
Normally, the ensigns would be asked to dine in silence, and to eat with all haste before going back to training. Yet, seeing as they were not encamped on Shell Island yet, the centurions had elected to grant the soldiers a moment of ease. They were likely stressed enough from the recent events at Ravenna, and it wasn’t as if the ship facilitated any significant training, anyways.
One of the ensigns, a young man likely not much older than Kaden, looked up at her as she passed. “How long will this training take, Novia?”
Caesennia stifled a chuckle, placing her hands behind her back and standing upright. She raised an eyebrow at the recruit.
“What?” He asked.
“You’re to call me Centurion Caesennia, ensign.” She replied. “Until you do that, I cannot respond to your questions.”
“Right, sorry ma’am- er, Centurion Caesennia.” He swiftly corrected. “How long will we be staying at Shell Island?”
“The usual duration of boot camp.” Caesennia replied. “Or ninety days—give or take a week.” She turned to walk away, before pausing. “Take heed in calling your officers by rank from now on. Nevermind the physical trials we can assign in boot camp for failing to do so, neglecting it too many times can delay your promotion. Understood?”
“Yes ma- er, yes Centurion Caesennia.” The young man replied.
Caesennia smirked, shaking her head as she walked out. Well, they do have energy. Let’s hope I won’t have to be too tough on them while in training. Never much liked getting after people. She continued to head to her room, yawning and stretching as she did. Two more days until Shell Island. Two more days until I have a bit of freedom. She told herself as she again got ready for bed.
The day couldn’t come soon enough.
To be frank, I’m not… stellar… about the ending of this chapter. I’ve noticed over my time of writing that my quality degrades towards the end, and I have a tendency to rush. If anyone has advice pertaining on how to do conclusions and the like, or a better mindset to have, I’d love to hear it.
Also, I know the title sucks compared to the others, and I’m sorry for that. I couldn’t think of a better one.
I may be taking a brief break from this to do other AO stories that unfortunately won’t include Caesennia, but will include my OCs. They barely even exist, I have to write SOMETHING about them.
@Raimon, @Zormego, @SkyRocket, @Winnyv6, @Mirage, @J0n, @LiterallyHermes, @ravvy, @Randomness, (Daron can’t be pinged on account of being banned), @lopiditty. You all requested to be pinged for the update of the Centurion’s Odyssey, so here you are. Please enjoy.