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Razors. A weapon feared across the Sol System by any color but LowReds, and for good reason. Designed to kill Golds in pulseArmor, it is the most lethal melee weapon ever created and akin to a king’s scepter in the historic ages. Touching it is a capital punishment for any other Color than Gold and their Orange artificers, and yet … I own one. “How?”, you may ask. And it is quite easy. Truly.
First you must know that I am a Lurcher. Yes, I see that you know what that means. My kill tally surpasses the amount of people lowReds know their entire filthy lives.
See my knuckles here? XIII Legion ‘Dracones’, Grimmus’ finest. Hard Bastards, all of them, and I stood at the pinnacle with my squad.
I fell in the only great Iron Rain of this age, back on Titan, with the Ash Lord himself. And there on Titan, I took the worthiest kill of my life. You wanna hear it, don’t you? Alright, then listen up. This is the tale of how Ragg ti Nevorro earned the Razor Badge.
“Attention, Squad Lindworm!”, squadLead Hannus ti Lim calls through the barracks and ten pairs of boots scramble to the floor. For the last three months we have been sitting on the Annihilo, not exactly idly, but not fighting in the damn rebellion as most of us wanted. Drills kept us sharp, but even live-ammo drills couldn’t replace a real fight. Not for us, at least.
“Are we finally moving out?”, I ask and Lim grins from ear to ear.
“We aren’t moving out, Nevorro. We are about to participate in the first Iron Rain of this century!”
A silence runs through the room, as heavy as lead. There hadn’t been an Iron Rain in decades, maybe longer. We all knew that there had been none during the reign of Ovidius au Lune. My heart rate spiked, and I could almost hear that of my squad mates.
“An Iron Rain, squadLead?”, I ask and he nods.
“Yut. A goddamn Iron Rain, boys. And we will fly with Legate au Germanicus, as his personal guard. So get your affairs in order, we have 24 hours until launch!”
He salutes crisply and turns around, walking off to his own cell on the dreadnought to prepare himself.
I look around and a wolfish grin splits my face. “We’re about to earn our retirement, and much more.”, I say and hold my fist in front of my body.
“What are we?!”
“The fire of Gray!”
“What do we do?”
“Burn our enemy!”
“Merryweather ..:!”
“Ad Portas!”
With the traditional battle cry of our squad and our color, I initiate our pre-battle procedures. From now on, none of us will leave further than 100 feet from the rest, unless ordered to do so. We meld together, losing our individual selves and become a machine with only one aim: Destroy any enemy that we are sent against.
Twenty hours later, our Cohort stands ready in the dropTube hangar. Our squadLead and his subLead stand in the first line, the squad right behind them. Our Legate au Germanicus, a Peerless Scarred from Venus, is beloved by his Cohort, but hated by most Core Golds. Standing at only 7 feet height, but almost as broad, he is not a particularly beautiful man to Gold standards. His gaze is intense, but filled with an arrogance that few even in his own Color can match. And his reputation as a brutal and cruel man is well earned. I have personally seen him rip the head off an Orange who he blamed for a speck on his armor.
But to us, he is the man who won us the renown and honor we hold today. Third Cohort, only surpassed by Aja au Grimmus’ Second Cohort and the First Cohort of ArchImperator Magnus au Grimmus himself. When I see the warriors around me, I cannot think of any shame. I am proud to see the black-and-purple duroArmor on my fellow Legionnaires, and the more ornate ScarabSkin my squad wears. The helmets of our ScarabSkin are shaped to honor our namesake, the Lindworm, even though you cannot see that right now.
au Germanicus wants to see the faces of his soldiers before battle.
“Third Cohort! Today is a day to rejoice! ArchImperator Magnus au Grimmus has called an Iron Rain down on Titan’s capital, Okeanos. The Moon Lords rebellion will be quashed under our heels today, my faithful soldiers!”
A cheer rises up, but our Legate is not finished.
“I thirst for glory. One could be led to believe that falling in an Iron Rain is already glory enough for a lifetime. But I say no! No, falling shall never be considered glorious! Only once we have landed and our blades are slick with the blood of the rebels does glory come. You have to earn it. Fight for it! And that’s your duty today. Fight until there is no rebel left alive. Show no mercy, give no quarter! Exterminate them like the Rim trash that they are!”
Another cheer arises, far mightier than before. The Third is bloodthirsty. The Golds can take all the glory they want, but us Grays? We only want to kill those who rebel against the Society.
“Now prepare for the Rain, soldiers. Gold and Obsidian will take the Vanguard as is right, but once my feet hit the ground I want to see your hivePods fall like the fists of gods. Make me proud, Third Cohort!”
A wave runs through the gathered Grays. We all lift our right fist and slam it into our chest in the age-old warrior salute. Then the squads file away to their designated hivePods to load up and go through the final checks. But our squadLead motions for us to stay as Germanicus walks over to us.
“Lindworm, you are to follow me into battle. Once the Rain starts, your hivePod will be the first to launch on my coordinates. I will not lie, you are going to be shot right into the toughest part of the battle. But you are the finest squad in Third Cohort, so I expect you to make it through.”
He does not order us to survive, or even question that our pod might be shot down. He expects us to come down and have his back, so we will.
“I will have another protection detail of Gold and Obsidian, but they will be busy fighting the big guys. Your task is overwatch. Look for the small things, and dispatch them before they come close. railRifles for the marksmen, recoilRifles for the rest. Two rocket launchers and a plasmaRifle as heavy weapons. And for the worst case, there is a full complement of ambiRifles to be stored in the Pod in case the enemy uses EMP. All clear?”
The squad nods and Germanicus smiles.
“Make me proud, Legionnaires!”
We salute again with our fist against our chests, then we jog over to our hivePod and load up.
Half an hour before the Rain, we get into the Pod. All of us have trained in simulations, but none of us have ever dropped in a Rain proper. And yet none of us feel fear. We are Lurchers, and Lurchers are recruited only from those Grays who show sociopathic tendencies. No fear, no empathy, only duty and bloodlust.
I pull the dropHarness down from the wall and secure myself. Thick metal bars arrest my body, ready to engulf my body in inertia-absorbing fluid in case the Pod is shot down.
Lim slams the hatch shut and secures himself. The press of a button activates the crane and the Pod shakes slightly as it is lifted and then slotted into the spitTube that will launch us in the second wave.
We wait in silence as the countdown ticks ever down.
Fifteen Minutes.
Ten.
Five.
When it hits zero, a tremble runs through the ship as thousands of starShells are launched. Time passes at a crawl, but then the light goes red and the countdown for the second wave starts. For us, it is only ten seconds, and adrenaline floods my body. Then the timer hits zero and my organs lift up. The acceleration is incredible, even with the dampeners fitted to the Pod. We are shot out at ten times the speed of sound and it takes no time at all before we hit the atmosphere and start shaking violently. We can’t hear through the armored shell of the Pod, but by the way the Pod is being thrown around, I can tell that the anti-air weapons are being run hard. Nothing for us to do but pray.
Less than ten minutes after launch the retro-thrusters kick in and we smash into the ground with a jarring impact. Before the Pod is settled we hit the release buttons and the dropHarnesses pull up. Every Legionnaire has their weapon in hand in under twenty seconds and Lim pulls the lever that drops the assault hatch.
Daylight floods in, but our lenses compensate even while we run out in pairs. As one of the two marksmen of our squad I rush out second, taking in the chaos at a glance and firing my first shot only moments later.
Whoever had aimed our Pod was a goddamned genius, as we are only a hundred feet away from au Germanicus and his Golds and Obsidians. Lim orders us forward and we abandon the Pod to rush to our Legate.
Saying that he was locked in combat would be the wrong description. It is more a flow from one kill to the next, barely exchanging more than a handful of blows with any enemy before they fall to him or his wingman.
But all of them are more suited to close combat in their massive starShells. They have pulseFists, but those lack the range that my railRifle has, and the punch.
With the link between my HUD and railRifle, I am presented with unlimited targets. I need to narrow down, so with a few blinks I filter through them.
Ignore targets without ranged armaments.
Ignore targets without armor-breaking capabilities.
Ignore targets not aiming in au Germanicus’ direction.
There are still enough targets to choose from, but now I can take them out systematically. I tag a Gold at the back with a pulseRifle and fire three shots in quick succession. Two into the chest to overload the pulseShield, on through the head. He never saw me.
Markus ti Dumont, the other marksmen of the squad, requests a direct link between our targeting feeds. I blink the confirmation and see his crosshair. Together we take down an Obsidian Brave in heavy armor on a gravSled, then we move on to single targets. Ever overlapping, we move through the carnage while our squad mates keep closer threats away from the two of us. It is like a carousel, rotating around our central axis.
And then we are with au Germanicus and he nods to Lim.
“Keep the snipers off of us. They are gorydamn well trained, already lost three men to them.”
Ignore targets closer than 1.000 feet.
I leave anything closer to Dumont and the squad and aim up. The landing site is before the city, just outside of their shieldDome that is being pounded by the ships in orbit. Unfortunately that means that the outer wall is close enough for snipers to make a meaningful impact on the battle. And so far, they are having a field day.
My first railslug takes a Gray straight through the eye. The next takes the top of another one's head. The third rips the arm off a Gold.
It took me less than ten seconds for these shots, but then my HUD lights up with alerts. Enemy snipers are letting go of the easy pickings and aim for the real threat. I smile under my helmet and start weaving. And still, my squad rotates around me, from one cover to the next, always two or three recoilRifles on the same target for maximum kill potential.
I keep firing at the wall, but over the next minutes the second wave of the Rain slams down on the killing field and the sniper duels are replaced by heavier weapons. gravSleds are humming just above the battle and ripWings are tearing each other apart in the atmosphere.
Finally I turn my attention back to my immediate surroundings. The feed of my squad shows two in deep orange, but the rest of us have so far escaped with only minor injuries.
“Good work, Nevorro, but now you’ll be Gold Hunter. Dumont is down”, Lim says and I nod. One marksman of Lindworm is always designated Gold Hunter when in large battles. Usually that’s Dumont for his proficiency in close-range marksmanship, but with him heading for the Yellows I’m the next in line.
I tweak the optics of my railRifle and change the filters of my HUD once more.
Prioritize targets within 150 feet of au Germanicus.
Prioritize Gold Targets.
It takes my armor a few breaths to adapt the new filters and sync with the targeters of my squad, but then I am locked in. I blink an acknowledgement to Lim and sink back into the carousel. When I had first set a slow pace for long range action I am now moving fast. au Germanicus is always at the center of my attention and I shoot anything that comes into the circle I have set up around him.
Of course I cannot kill all enemies that come, not even close. I still have to take cover from the enemy, reload, shoot through the pulseShields. But by the way au Germanicus moves I know that I am having an impact. He weaves and ducks, breaking pulseShields at just the right time for me to take a shot. I am just as much in his awareness as his Gold bodyguards are.
If I wasn’t as concentrated, I would be astonished by the sheer skill the Legate possesses.
At some point during the battle au Germanicus orders us to fall back to the nearest beach head to restock. The squad is down to seven, one lying red in the sand, the other two headed for the field hospital to join Dumont.
I gulp down water from my canteen and stack new magazines on my armor when the Legate steps closer.
“Whats your tally, Legionnaire?”, he asks. He knows, of course. But he wants his men to know their worth.
“Ninety-six, sir!”, I answer with a salute, rifle to shoulder.
“Ninety-six indeed. How many Golds?”
“Sixteen, I believe.”, I answer. “But the least of them were on me alone, sir.”
He shakes his head and smiles down on me.
“You are an exceptional marksman, Legionnaire ti Nevorro. Perhaps the best Gray marksmen in Third Cohort. Don’t downplay the fact that you are a Gold Killer that can keep up with some of the Obsidians. Exceptional, ti Nevorro. I shall leave in five minutes and plan the attack on the wall, and I want you with me. Your sniper’s eyes will be valuable in finding the cracks.”
I salute again, my heart pumping with the joy of his words. All of us know that he does not hold back on praise, but we also know that his praise is only said to those who deserve it.
“Yes, sir!”,I shout and he nods, satisfied. He turns and walks back towards his Gold bodyguards, preparing the next step of the offensive.
Five minutes later I walk next to au Germanicus towards the gravSled that acts as his command platform now that the second wave has cleared a sizable section of the killing ground. I heard from my squadLead that the battle is going in our favour, but sections of the offensive have not secured their beach heads just yet.
First and Second Cohort are obviously all cleaned up already, but we are not far behind. Aja’s signal came just half an hour before ours. We are getting closer to them, last time it was over an hour difference.
“Legionnaire ti Nevorro, what is your assessment of the defence wall?”, au Germanicus pulls me from my thoughts.
I let my eyes roam over the fortifications. They are mighty, I will admit. Massive towers rise a kilometer into the sky at regular distances, and their flanks are dotted with weaponry. Missile batteries, railguns and sluggers are aimed down at the ground.
The wall itself is said to be hundreds of meters thick, but I wouldn’t be able to tell from where I stand. So overall we look at certain death if the pulseShield over the city isn’t brought down.
“I’d usually say that we wait until the orbital strikes rip that little roof of theirs down, but I assume that Lord au Grimmus does not have the patience for it.”, I say and keep looking. A normal Gray wouldn’t be able to see the details any Gold could, but with my occuLens I see sharper than a normal Gray.
“But I also see sloppy work, with respect, sir. Judging by the way the towers align and where the weapons are placed, there is not enough firepower to hold off an army of this size. A bloody run, certainly, but starShells will likely get through fairly easily and Grays survive in numbers.”
au Germanicus nods.
“The odds of starShells surviving are about ninety percent. Grays … More towards thirty. Of the seven hundred surviving of Third Cohort, I would have to sacrifice another four to five hundred. Wasted skill, in my opinion. My advisors consider it worthwhile, but au Grimmus has already halted a massed assault, anyway. Think differently, Ti Nevorro.”
I glance at him for only a second, then I set my eyes upon the wall again. I don’t know how to think differently, but I don’t think this is what he actually means. I think he wants me to think like myself, like a Lurcher.
Instead of looking at the big picture, I narrow down to the details. Pathways, hiding places, climbing routes. Within a minute I have a route of ingress, within a few more I have an overall plan. Reconnaissance from afar is one of the most important roles of a sniper after all.
I point out the route I envision and mark it on the tactical net we share. au Germanicus watches, analyzes and adapts the route, tagging markers to specific locations.
I created it for lurchers, he adapts it for Golds. It is impressive how fast he is picking up on clues that it took me decades to learn. But then there is a plan and we are moving. Fourteen men and women, seven Gold, seven Gray.
We cross the kilometers of no-mans-land that separate the fighting zone from the wall quickly and, against my judgement, without being seen. It does help that the Golds changed their four meter tall starShells for black scarabSkin. And then we scale the wall.
Up close, it is far more and far less impressive at the same time. Far more impressive because the sheer size is so much more apparent, but so much less because the imperfections are also so much more apparent. Saying the wall was in disrepair would be disingenuous, but it is also not kept in the best shape possible. What I had assumed would be a possible but demanding climb suddenly seems like child’s play for an elite squad such as this.
Com-silent as we are au Germanicus only motions upwards and immediately fourteen shadows cling to the wall. The climb up is so easy that just below the top of the wall, my arms are scarcely burning at all.
Each of us hangs below the parapet and listens to the guards stationed above us.
“They’ll make a storm attack, I wager. The fortifications were never brought up to par for this age.”, one of them says and earnes consenting murmurs from his peers.
“We are a lame duck, just waiting to be plucked. I think that the Moon Lords have chosen poorly to rise against Octavia au Lune. Everyone knows that archImperator Magnus au Grimmus would be sailing for the Rim as soon as Octavia felt threatened.”
Thirteen pairs of eyes watch au Germanicus as he listens to the guards. They are most certainly Gray from the way they speak, and the lack of luster in their voices. And I have a feeling that they may be more loyal to the Society than their Rim overlords think. au Germanicus seems to think for a second, then he motions for me to climb up. A wolfish grin creeps onto my face, then I silently finish the climb and look over the wall for the first time.
A ten-men squad of Gray infantry stands next to me, stunned for a moment before training and discipline takes over and ten rifles are aimed at me. I raise my hands slowly before looking at the squadLead, motioning carefully that I want to get off the wall.
He nods and I climb down. They surround me and the squadLead orders them to take my helmet off. Once its off, I salute and look him in the eyes.
“Legionnaire Ragg ti Nevorro, Lurcher, Third Cohort, Legion XIII ‘Dracones’”, I say and a tension runs through the enemy Grays. Not that it was really a surprise to them, they certainly had assumed my role already, but it hits different to be told straight to the face.
“I appreciate the honesty, but what are you doing here? You are an enemy of the Moon Lords and therefore now a prisoner of war.”
I smile and nod to them. “You are Gray. Conditioned to loyalty to the Society and by your speech none of you are from the Rim, either. Earth, I’d guess?”
They don’t confirm my guess verbally, but their body language and expressions are more than enough to answer anyway.
“I am here with an elite team to capture that tower over there. And with that caught, we will capture Okeanos. Now, the question isn’t really whether we will or will not do that, but how fast. Listening to your discussion, I think we may agree that the timely finish of our mission would save us all a headache, right?”
The squad looks at each other, then at their squadLead. He knows that his decision may tip the scales in this war and it clearly frightens him. Sweat collects on his forehead and his eyes twitch to the tower subconsciously.
“What will happen to us?”, he asks. A fair question, as he would turn traitor to his Gold overlords. An offense that usually means death. But since those Golds are declared enemies of the Society, not betraying them would mean death, too.
“If you decide for the Society, you will be integrated into the XIII legion and lauded as heroes of the Battle for Okeanos. You would shorten the battle by hours at least, possibly days, and our Legate honors all actions that save the lives of his legionnaires. You would not be subject to any disciplinary actions.” In short, they’d have get-out-of-jail-free cards.
The squadLead nods at that. “Tell your squad to climb to the gun ports on parapet-height. We will escort you to the tower as prisoner and give you access to the gun room. You can get in there easy enough once the pulseShield is out.”
I nod and they take me in a circle, escorting me. The squad had listened in through my armor anyway, so I am certain that they will be right where they need to be.
The way to the door is short and the only other Grays just watch us go past. They all see a prisoner of war brought for further questioning. The armored door opens for the squadLead and we are inside. The interior is better kept than the outside, but it appears to be understaffed. I expected attendants or at least regular guards, but the corridor is empty. The MoonLords rebellion was even less thought out than I had assumed.
We walk another fifty meters or so until the first bulkhead door is to the right.
“As soon as this door opens, you must take out everyone inside.”, the squadLead tells me and hands me a recoilRifle. I nod in acknowledgement and take up position, aiming at the door. At another nod, he opens and the bulkhead slides into the wall.
Before its halfway open I am through and firing. Five men crew, all facing towards the gunport. Only the loader looks back and falls to the ground with a bullet through the head. Three more follow in quick succession, but the crewLead tries to hide himself behind the gun. Instead of trying to go after him, I shoot the pulseShield control. Barely a breath later he gets shot in the back.
“Good work, Legionnaire.”, au Germanicus says as he climbs through the opening in the wall. The rest of the squad follow and soon we are ready to move on. au Germanicus has called the enemy squad in and they gave us a detailed description of the layout of the tower. The command section is about fifteen floors down, but there are Gold bodyguards for the local commander.
“Don’t worry about them, we will take gorydamn good care of them.”, au Germanicus promises with a wolfish grin.
“You will act as our scouts until then. Take the stairs, I don’t want any surprises when the elevator door opens.”
The enemy Gray’s squadLead receives a comBead with our frequency and moves off with a salute. Only on his signal do we move out of the gunroom and into the tower. The next minutes are tense while we move down the stairwell. I constantly expect the signal to go loud, but somehow the Grays manage to avoid or eliminate any possible disturbance.
Finally we are on the right floor, but from here on out, going silent will be impossible. Instead we get hooked into the system by the squadLead for a few seconds and download the current station of all enemies on this floor. Fourteen against a hundred, on this floor. But over half of these are crewed on the outside wall in gun emplacements or logistic rooms. The main operations room is inhabited by twenty. Fifteen golds, only five Grays who I assume are the coms officers. A difficult task, if we keep the moment of surprise. Without it, very difficult.
“Move fast, hit hard. Lurchers, backline. Center on Nevorro and his pulseRifle. Target Grays first, then Gold. Gold, on me. Phalanx, protect your wingman. All clear?”
We salute, fist to chest. au Germanicus nods and takes point. “You stay here. This part is not yours to act.”, he tells the squadLead of the enemy, who steps back and nods. Then we move off at a sprint.
Two hundred meters ahead are the doors to the operations room, closed but not locked. When we are twenty meters away au Germanicus activates the code we got from the squadLead and the heavy doors open. I wait until the last possible moment before firing the first shot at the Gray at the far back side. Then we are through and into the chaos of a melee. The Golds spread out at the front while we Grays shoot from the back.
The enemy Grays are killed within the first few seconds, but the Golds don’t die nearly as easily. They don’t even scramble, they flow together to form a wall between us and the Gold commander in an instance. And they also cover the second door to the room and try to retreat.
“Fry the doors!”, au Germanicus orders and two of the Grays turn around and shoot at the modules next to the door. Immediately the alarm blares and the room goes into lock-down. Heavy blast doors fall from the ceiling and lock all of us in. We knew this always had been a one-side-out-alive, but the sound of the doors is still haunting. Like a good-bye from the living world.
The next minutes are pure and utter violence. We pull tight to not let them overwhelm us with their Gold prowess. Each Gold of ours watches himself, his wingman and a Gray, while they only have to care for their wingman. But they also only have their Razors, while we have a pulseRifle as well as six recoilRifles.
Lindworm falls into an easy rhythm. I pick the target, kill the pulseShield, they kill the armor and Gold under it. We still lose two Golds and four Grays and are pushed back against the door we came through. Five of theirs have fallen as well, but ten against five is still difficult, even with Germanicus. He fights like a demon, keeping three of them occupied. I focus the fire of myself and the remaining three recoilRifles on one of his opponents and bring him down, but I already see the next jumping in and slicing through au Germanicus’ armor from a previously impossible angle.
Our leader’s thigh opens and red blood streams from a deep cut that looks like it went down to the bone. Even with the pulseArmors self repair and first aid drugs this will impair our best fighter. His wingman rushes in with wide strikes and we fire an unfocused salvo, but the enemy commander just wades through while his second intercepts au Germanicus’ wingman.
Within three strikes, au Germanicus is disarmed and I do the stupidest thing a non-Gold could do. I throw my pulseRifle to another Gray, take one of the Razors from the ground and scream at au Germanicus to jump. To my, and everyone else’s, surprise, he follows my suggestion. Just as his feet leave the ground and the eyes of the enemy follow his body, I slide underneath them and spear the stolen Razor up and through the chest of the commander.
His eyes grow wide with shock and indignation, but I pierced his heart. His Razor clatters to the ground and for some time, all other fights stop. Everything that just happened was unheard of. A Gold following a Grays order. A Gray taking a Razor. A Gray taking a Razor and killing a Gold. I knowingly signed a death sentence to save my Legate.
Sounds come back when au Germancius lands over me, takes the Razor out of my hands and beheads the second in command. He is using the shock to even the odds. Truly a ruthless bastard, but all the better for me.
Two of the enemy Golds throw away their Razors and surrender, the others stumble over each other to try and reach me. They are slaughtered mercilessly.
Fifteen minutes later the operations room is secured, all power to the tower has been cut and Third Cohort is advancing through an uncontested field. I have been held at swordpoint by one of our Golds, disarmed and disarmored. There won’t be a trial, summary execution is the only possible outcome of my actions.
But then au Germanicus walks over and smiles.
“What you did requires an exorbitant lack of regard for your own life… And unsurpassable loyalty to your Legate. Had anyone else tried this, they would have died before my feet had hit the ground again. But you, Ragg ti Nevorro, are an exceptional Legionnaire. I had my eye on you ever since you joined the Lurchers, and the reports of your competency are not overestimated.”
He picks up the Razor I used and looks down its edge.
“The weapon of Gold. Only a handful of non-Golds are allowed to own one, and they are almost exclusively of the Dracones.”
He gestures.
“Stand, Legionnaire. And salute!”
I stand up and salute in the traditional Dracones way.
“Ragg ti Nevorro, I hereby promote you to the rank of subLegate of Third Cohort. You are to report to me directly as head of the Lurcher units of Third Cohort, and bearer of the Razor badge.”
I look at him in confusion. To my knowledge, there is no Razor badge, but the look of horror on his Golds tells me they grasp what is happening far better than I do. One of them is about to protest, but a glance from au Germanicus silences the protest immediately.
“As the wearer of the Razor badge, you are entitled to own this Razor. However, you are neither allowed to wield it nor to show it to anyone else. It will be transported under and stored in secrecy within your new quarters, and the badge may only be worn in gatherings of the same or higher standing than you currently possess.”
He looks over to the three Grays still present.
“None of you will ever talk about what happened in this room. If you do, you and everyone you told will be killed and expunged from Legion records. Do I make myself clear?”
They all salute and nod. “Yes, sir!”
“Good. Then lets wait until Third Cohort is storming the tower: I do not fancy denting the Razors on these security walls.”
And that is how I earned my greatest achievement, and greatest secret. Even after my death, only Gold will know about it. But that is alright with me. Only Gold needs to know. My own color is impressed enough with my rank. I am proud of that, of course. But it does not compare to the feeling of looking at that Razor.
But enough of this. I have meetings to attend, plans to form and carry out. You shall hear from me again another time.
subLegate Ragg ti Nevarro, out.