Taken out of the interrogation room, Eiran followed the General through a busy hallway, people in many different styles of uniforms, some business attire, others military, all scrambling around to complete important tasks.
Down a flight of stairs, out of the building, he noted that the ground outside was not made of natural igneous rocks, but a synthetic material that was easy on the feet. He looked back at the building he'd just stepped out of. There, he could see three connected buildings.
The central building looked like a cathedral of war—an immense bastion of gilded steel and ancient wrath, bristling with weapons and crowned with spires that pierced the very fabric of space. Tapestries with divine and spiritual motifs added to the baroque style fortress, the scale of it left his jaw agape.
He couldn't really tell how many layers the fortress was made up of, the geometry of the place was just too convoluted, so many armored plates of adamantium and steel, buttresses, cruciform bridges, and tiered sanctums, it all came together to create a legendary, impregnable fortress.
He'd heard of this place, the war monastery. A chamber where the greatest warriors, technicians, and priests came together.
The building to the right, the one that he'd just stepped out of, was most likely the command center, in the distant horizon, he could see the beginning of what he believed to be a flame temple. According to what he'd studied in the academy, at the back side there should be a research facility, but it was currently blocked from his vision. All of the buildings seem to be connected to one of the three protruding bridges coming out of the massive central citadel.
The fortress was so big that the General had him step into a fancy car with him. The vehicle drove them into the fortress, through the entrance gate, up a ramp, and around repeating spirals, every inch was densely littered with fortifications, mounted weaponry, patrolling soldier, eventually leading them into one of the upper layers of the fortress.
Stepping out of the car, Eiran looked in front of him. He just couldn't believe that this was simply just the top level of the fortress, it looked like a castle in its own right.
He closed his eyes and listened
He could feel the warmth of the Flame Father here, protecting everybody.
From below, he could hear drill sergeants barking instructions at their subordinates.
The rhythmic marching of the soldiers, the busy feet of mechanics and scholars, the sound of people.
He could feel a lump in his throat. He hadn't realized how deeply the silence of the dunes had eaten into him until now. The echo of movement, of purpose, of civilization... it wrapped around his chest like a long-lost warmth.
Looking at the handiwork of humanity, what we could accomplish when we put our minds and bodies together, dedicated to a single goal, he wondered why he'd ever felt dread at all.
He wasn't some hero with a divine role to play in saving humanity. He was a cog in the machine, and he was happy with that role. He was Pheidippides, merely a messenger, a delivery man, but when combined with the efforts of everyone else, he knew that small contribution could do so much good.
…
Eiran followed the General into the building, receiving curious gazes from passerbys, but nobody would question who this meek, dust-covered, half-dead stranger following behind the General was.
Feeling slightly self-conscious about the gazes and his condition, he finally noticed that the clean military robes he was wearing were not his.
"What happened to my clothes? Are they getting washed?"
General Tullius glanced back without slowing. "What uniform?"
Eiran blinked.
"You were naked in that armor when you rolled down here."
Oh
Cheeks flushed, he lowered his head.
Guess the head trauma's still fucking up my brain.
…
The air was heavy, 5 figures were seated on a six, pointed table.
With heavy steps, Eiran followed the general to his seat, standing beside his chair.
He looked at the other side of the General's seat, looking at the lady with the neat appearance and office attire. She wore glasses, her hair was tied, and she stood with poise, limiting her presence without making herself look weak.
Come to think of it, she'd been with them the whole time, but he didn't really notice her till now, but now everything else felt off-limits to look at so his eyes naturally found her for a second before he went back to facing the floor.
He caught a brief glance at the simple war room and the domineering faces that lead the discussions when he first stepped inside, but hadn't dared to raise his head since.
Unlike those outside, the people in this room weren't afraid to question the General.
"Tulius, who is this boy you've brought with you, he looks so out of place, how adorable, he looks like a poor, injured chick."
A melodic, seductive voice rang out.
His young adult brain was overtaken by the brief sweet aroma that overpowered the previously heavy air, Eiran now dared to ever so slightly raise his gaze, looking a the cherry lips where the sound had originated from.
She continued, licking her lips. "What a miracle you've made it here, usually wounded birds tend to die before they reach the rookery, what a strong young man you are." her eyes filled with dangerous suggestion.
He suddenly felt a heat rising in his body, a different passion from the one he felt in the battlefields.
The others gave her a fed-up glance, this lady never got bored of teasing hot-blooded young soldiers, did she?
An old man in priest attire full of sun motifs eventually spoke up.
*cough*
"General Fulvia, please leave the poor boy alone, he's merely been touched by the Flame Father's divinity, he's hopeless against your charms."
He shook his head and looked at Eiran, a little bit surprised to see how well he was holding on.
Come on man, don't fall for this seductress, you've already got Sylvia.
He'd tried to limit his thoughts about his girlfriend and future son during the campaign, it helped keep him motivated, but too hope hope could be a bad thing in certain situations.
Hold on, what was today's date? He might have been born already.
An enchanting giggle echoed in the war room, a complete juxtaposition to what you'd expect to hear in such a place.
"Not bad, I'm slightly offended, but I like it when they resist a little bit." she said winking at him.
Subsequently, Eiran could feel himself calming down, he quickly averted his gaze from the woman's lips, her perfectly smooth bronze skin, and her orange eyes that smouldered with mischief.
The old man continued with an amicable smile, yet the pressure remained heavy on Eiran.
I guess this is just the difference between us.
Everyone in this room was much more attuned to the teachings of Flame Father than he was, so it was natural that he'd have a hard time.
"Fulvia, if you'd read the report then you would already be up to speed."
He didn't miss a chance to send a slight dig in her direction, there seemed to be a hint of animosity between the two hidden within their mutual respect. I guess its only natural between an old priest and a cougar who loved to play with naive young men.
"Come child, place this relic on the table, Lucius have a look at it."
Lucius Caecus, that's a name that comes up a lot in the textbooks
Eiran placed the metal cylinder on the table. He was a little bit reluctant to let it go, the assurance that it had provided him helped keep him sane on the journey here.
He then looked at the senior engineer. Well his title had senior in it, but he was only about 10 years older than Eiran, he should be in his late 20s or early 30s.
His facial features didn't really betray his face, but his dark hair was disheveled and long with way too many traces of gray for someone his age. The bags under his eyes and the crazed look in them made others wary of him, even with his small stature.
He took the relic, played around with it a bit, inspected it with some gadgets and then handed it to the priest.
"Can't really tell much, try channeling the relic so I can get a better look."
The priest nodded, and then turned to another priest beside him.
"Francis, come."
I guess the one that's been taking the lead must be a cardinal, and the one next to him is probably an archbishop.
The two old men placed their hands on the relic and chanted simultaneously, releasing an ancient and wise sounding hymn into the air.
"By the divine flame which I do xxxx, I entreat thee — show thyself, O great and xxxxxxx fire! Let mine own xxxxx be thy vessel, and mine will the xxxxxxx of thy holy blaze."
Interesting, the tone of their spells is completely different from mine, I usually sound like I'm begging, but they're just politely asking.
His understanding of the ancient language was a little bit above the average soldier, but it was still enough to pick up this key difference.
As soon as the chants finished, the two old men seemed to be set aflame, a glorious glow surrounded their bodied, slowly moving to establish a connection with the relic. As soon as their flames made contact with the relic —
BOOM!
They were sent flying back…