Between a Rock and a Carapace

43. Devastation

Titus surveyed the broken wreckage of the once prosperous City of Liria. The Legion fort around the Dungeon entrance had been levelled, giving him a clear view of the devastation the moment he stepped onto the surface.

Garralosh and her monsters had thoroughly done their work. Everywhere he looked, there was wreckage, as if the beasts couldn’t stand to leave one stone on top of another. The Legion commander was weighted with a pain in his heart as took in the ruins. What remained of Baker Dockerty’s shop was visible from where he stood. The jolly old man had been full of life, ready with a smile and a glazed bun—Titus’ favourite—every time he’d stopped by. So much waste, so much loss. All because of one stupid monster.

He blew a breath, releasing the tension building in his chest. What was the point of raging at a dead beast? The kingdom was gone, Garralosh was gone, the Legion’s responsibilities in this backward part of the world were over. Still, Titus held no sense of satisfaction.

They hadn’t defeated the giant croc themselves, and he was filled with regret that he’d failed to take her life when they’d previously clashed. His axe had bitten her flesh, taken an arm, but she’d slithered away like a snake. Perhaps if he’d pursued then, he would never have witnessed this scene now. Perhaps his son would have taken the trials elsewhere and survived.

Regret boiled in his belly.

Sensing her father’s emotions, Morrelia placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

Titus turned his stony face toward her.

“You did more for this city, more for this country, than any dozen other people in its history combined. You fought harder and longer than even the Legion asked of you. There was nothing more you could have done, so stop being stupid and feeling guilty about this. None of it is your fault.”

Nearby Legionaries were quite chagrined to hear their revered commander spoken to in this way, but what could they do? It was his daughter! Titus himself didn’t appear to mind at all. He only nodded and patted the rough and calloused hand on his shoulder with his own, equally worn one.

“You always had a way with words, Morr.”

Morrelia snorted. “No I don’t and you know it. I’m just in a unique position to look at you as a human instead of a legend.”

“You don’t see me as a legend?”

“My memories are of you teaching me how to lace up a boot, not saving the kingdom for the umpteenth time.” She stepped away from her father to run her eyes over the wreckage. “I still can’t believe this happened. When Anthony and I first came here, this whole space was filled with monsters, almost every surface covered with them. How did we ever kill so many?”

Titus flicked an eye at her words. Behind him, many Legionaries were overcome with emotion as they reached the surface. Many had been born here, had parents, spouses, some of them even had children. Morrelia had been able to provide a list, the names of everyone who gathered at the survivor village. It was a scarce comfort.

Only a fraction of the people who’d lived in the kingdom remained, and the capital had been the hardest hit. The tears and cries of anguish stung. Sometimes, Titus wished he could unbend long enough to show that kind of emotion, but he never did. Part of him was afraid that if he ever let it out, he would never be able to bottle it up again. Only his family were able to truly see what went on under the surface—only his wife and daughter.

And he was determined to keep them safe.

“Have you thought about my offer, Morr? I want you to come with us when we go.”

In truth, Morrelia was conflicted. During the journey upward, she’d spent time talking to her old friends, from her centurions, trainees in her year who’d gone on to make full Legionary and others who’d started not long before she left. The Abyssal Legion had been such a part of her life, to reconnect with it again felt so natural, as if she’d been welcomed back to the family.

To her, the Legion was literally family. It was a chance to spend time with her father, to reconnect with her mother after ten years of separation. She didn’t want to abandon the community in the south, the survivors she’d formed bonds with through desperate battles and struggles. But how could she turn away from this chance? If she did, how long would it be until she saw her parents again?

Enid, Beyn, Isaac. Well, Isaac could burn in the third stratum, but the others, even Anthony, that puzzling creature who seemed to turn everything she’d been taught about monsters on its head. There was something building there, something special. She wanted to be a part of it, wanted to help build it. It was an adventure, creating something entirely new out of the ashes of the old.

“Give me a little more time to think,” she told her father.

The commander looked as if he had more to say, though he restrained himself. He wouldn’t push her. His children had never reacted well to being pushed. Titus never once mentioned the idea of joining the Legion to them as they’d grown up. He wasn’t certain he wanted that life for them. Sure enough, they’d thrown themselves in headfirst the moment they’d come of age. Morrelia was the most headstrong of them all, it was unusual of her to be undecided in anything. He would give her the space she needed.

A sob, almost a muffled cry, sounded behind them. They turned to see a devastated Alberton, the Legion Loremaster for Liria. The old scholar had a hand raised to cover his mouth, and his eyes were red as he took in the wreckage of his home.

Titus stepped toward his friend, putting a powerful arm over his shoulders. Morrelia approached his other side, reaching to grasp his arm. Alberton had been a big part of her upbringing in the Legion, both as her father’s friend and as her teacher when she was a trainee.

“Lean on me, old man,” Titus encouraged, Alberton appearing to be close to collapse. “Don’t stand on ceremony.”

“The entire kingdom? Everything my family has built for hundreds of years. All gone? So many people…” The old Legion scholar was beside himself as he openly wept. His entire life, his family, his history, wiped from the face of the world.

All that was left was ashes.

“This is why we call them monsters, Morrelia,” Titus spat. “Look at what they’ve done. Look at this! We can never have peace until they’re all dead. As if they never existed in the first place.”