Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(32)

Legion armor always made a man's shoulders look wide, but Cyril's looked almost deformed beneath the pauldrons. His forearms were bare, scarred, the skin stretched tight over cords of muscle. His armor bore the same red-and-blue eagle insignia Tavi had seen on Lorico's tunic, somehow embedded into the steel.

Tavi stepped aside to let Magnus and Max enter, and the three of them came to attention while Lorico announced them. "Subtribune Scipio, Astoris Magnus, and Antillar Maximus, sir."

Cyril looked up from the paper he held in his hand and nodded to them. "Good timing, gentlemen. Welcome." He gestured for them to join the circle around him. "Please."

"My name is Ritius Cyril," he continued, after they had joined the circle. "Many of you know me. For those who don't, I was born in Placida, but my home is here, in the Legions. I have served terms as a legionare in Phrygia, Riva, and Antillus, and as a marine in Parcia. I served as a Knight Ferrous in Antillus, as a Tribune Auxiliarus, Tribune Tactica, and Knight Tribune, as well as Legion Subtribune. I have seen action against the Icemen, the Canim, and the Marat. This is my first Legion command." He paused to look around the room steadily, then said, "Gentlemen, we find ourselves in the unenviable position of pioneers. No Legion like this one has ever existed. Some of you may be expecting to serve in a token fighting force-a political symbol, where the work will be light and the business of war will seldom cross paths with us.

"If so, you are mistaken," he said, and his voice turned slightly crisp. "Make no mistake. I intend to train this Legion to be the equal of any in the Realm. There is a great deal of work ahead of us, but I will ask nothing more from any of you than I do of myself.

"Further, I am as aware as any of you of the various agendas of the lords and Senators who supported the founding of this Legion. Lest there be any misunderstandings, you should all know now that I have no patience for politics and little tolerance for fools. This is a Legion. Our business is war, the defense of the Realm. I will not allow anyone's games to interfere with business. If you are here with your own agenda, or if you have no stomach for hard work, I expect you to resign, here and now, and be gone after breakfast tomorrow." His gaze swept the room again. "Are there any takers?"

Tavi arched a brow at the man, impressed. Few would dare to speak so plainly to the Citizenry, of which most of the officers of every Legion were members. Tavi glanced around the gathering of listeners. None of them moved or spoke, though Tavi saw uncomfortable expressions on several faces. Evidently, they were no more used to being spoken to in no uncertain terms than Tavi was to hearing them so addressed.

Cyril waited for a moment more, then said, "No? Then I will expect you all to do everything in your power to fulfill your duties. Just as I will do all in my power to aid and support you. That said, introductions are in order."

Cyril went around the room and delivered terse introductions of each person there. Tavi took particular note of a beefy-looking man named Gracchus, Tribune Logistica and Tavi's immediate commander. Another man, a weathered-looking veteran whose face had never been pretty even before all the scars, was identified as Valiar Marcus, the First Spear, the most senior centurion of the Legion. When Cyril reached the end of the introductions, he said, "And we have been the beneficiaries of some unanticipated good fortune," Cyril said. "Gentlemen, some of you know her already, but may I present to you Antillus Dorotea, the High Lady Antillus."

A woman rose from where she sat on the stool in a grey dress that bore the First Aleran's red-and-blue eagle over the heart. She was slim, of medium height, and her long, fine, straight dark hair clung to her head and shone as if wet. Her features were narrow and vaguely familiar to Tavi.