Varius had too much experience ordering troops to clear his throat in front of them from emotion, but he was losing composure fast. How in the hells had Theira managed to keep it together swindling Tychon to his face not once, but twice?
He pointed to the old woman. “She has your marching orders now.”
Every soldier turned in unison to her, pounding a fist on their breastplates. Instant willingness to following civilian leadership.
She just eyed Varius. “And you?”
“Tell me where to find Caius Sobanus,” Varius said, his voice low and dangerous, “and I will end this.”
No one moved.
Would they truly stand by a patrician of the empire against a sorcerous incursion, even after everything?
Would they truly and undeniably supporthim, even after everything?
“Legatus Varius, sir!” A voice finally yelled. “He is sheltered in the patricians’ dome, sir.”
Varius managed not to collapse as it felt like his bones lost all their strength beneath him in sheer relief, but it was a near thing.
It helped that his heart was pounding in anticipation, though.
The old woman shrugged. “That’s what I would have guessed, too. Not like him to be seen anywhere a bit of dirt might touch him, is it?”
“Let’s see,” Varius said, “if I can’t fix that.”
He looked at the soldier who’d spoken; saluted. The man was ashen, but at this he glowed. Varius’ chest constricted.
Maybe they didn’t know what Varius had done to leave, or maybe they doubted what Caius Sobanus had told them before, or maybe—maybe they didn’t blame him, for surviving. Maybe they recognized he’d been as caught as they were.
It had been too long since the soldiers of the empire could make a choice they felt good about. Varius had changed that, with Theira’s help.
That was the answer to what he could offer them now.
A chance.
To make their own choices; to live.
He could break them all out of this cycle, once and for all, and he would.
Varius gathered the golems, and the rhythmic boom of their steps was as inexorable as the drum of the legions.
His soldiers ran ahead of him, removed any resistance. They took care of their own.
No soldier was loyal to the patricians who sent them to die over the legatus who’d saved their lives time and time again, who’d paid out his own money for their gear, who’d stood by their side to break news to their families.
Caius Sobanus’ real mistake was believing his people were stupid.
Varius doubted he appreciated that, but soon it wouldn’t matter.
As his golems closed in on the enormous stone dome, two soldiers carried a struggling Sobanus out.
“The patricians are inside, sir,” one of them yelled up to Varius. “And only patricians, sir.”
Well, well.
A perfect field for military exercises after all.
And a place where he didn’t need to hold back his strength.
