LUCIO DANTE
The graven quiet of the Imperial Palace's South Wing was broken by a terse rapping upon a heavy, wooden door. Zmeyj Vladis, Knight-Commander of the Imperial Fourth Legion (colloquially known as the Shadow of Vostoroy), stood uncomfortably outside the chamber which he had just knocked upon. Despite the late hour, the senior knight stood in his dress uniform, the traditional black and midnight blue of the Fourth Legion. As a respected veteran, Vladis had accomplished much in his years of service, both as a knight and commander of his legion. Reconnaissance, espionage and unconventional warfare were the Fourth's specialties, though their existence was something like a state secret. As far as the enemies of Imperia were aware, there was no Fourth Legion.
"Enter," sounded a resounding voice from the other side of the door.
Vladis swallowed, suddenly realizing that his throat had gone dry, and entered the chamber. The quarters were impressive; a large table for dining (though covered in plans and reports), a small library of scrolls and books, a private bath chamber, and countless trophies from innumerable battles and campaigns. Bright crimson and shining gold filled the room, in heraldry and drapery both. Not far from the door, near one of the south-facing windows, stood the man that Vladis had come to see. He stood a head taller than any man that Vladis had ever met, and his very form seemed to radiate power and magnificence. He was Lord-Commander of the Imperial Military, the legendary Angel of Death, the immortal and unconquerable Lucio Dante.
And here Vladis was, meeting him in his private chambers, while the man was dressed in his bedclothes. The two had met before, though it was in the presence of the Emperor and several other Knight-Commanders. Dante had presided over the meeting, merely a formality to discuss logistics and minor strategy, though for such a simple occasion he was dressed in the full, golden regalia for which he was widely known. Vladis had never seen the man outside of his armor, much less met him alone and in secrecy. He was clad in simple woolen bed-robes (dyed deep crimson, of course), barefoot and without any adornment. Dante turned from gazing solemnly out the window to face Vladis, allowing the Knight-Commander a good look at his superior. While rumor held that Dante was as old as the Empire itself, and sure enough neither Vladis nor any of his colleagues could remember a time before Dante's command, only now did he believe it. The man looked ancient, his hair white as snow, deep ravines etched into his face, and a distinctly tired look in his deep, red eyes. He did not look weak or frail, his body still mighty and strong, but never the less he looked to be a man that had seen more years and far more battles than the gods had intended for him.
"Lord-Commander." Vladis dropped his head and placed his fist over his heart in a salute as soon as Dante had turned his venerable gaze to him.
"Your report, Ser Vladis?" Dante asked in a voice that echoed richly from the walls. Vladis could not help it, but a shiver ran through him as he heard the Lord-Commander speak. It was a sound like war-drums, or metal being beaten upon an anvil.
Wasting no more time with formalities, Vladis retrieved the papers tucked under his arm, and glanced at them again before summarizing: "Yes, milord. The attack was carried through exactly as planned. The Seventh Legion's Tenth Auxiliary Company assaulted the invader's position at nightfall hours ago, under the command of Marquis Sigard. They were wiped out roughly an hour ago. My scouts returned to me within the hour. As expected, the invaders' military strength is staggering, but it is not insurmountable. They have no detectable mages among their number, and no defense against magic. Their defensive strategy relies heavily on fortified positions, though their infantry is highly mobile." Dante said nothing merely rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his eyes became distant. "I will leave the full report with you, milord."
"Very well." Dante gestured to his dining table, already overflowing with paperwork, and Vladis placed the documents on a mostly-clear space. "Excellent work, Ser Vladis. I will have greater need of you and your Legion in the future; stay vigilant."
"Ever vigilant, ever faithful." Vladis answered with the traditional motto of the Fourth Legion. Though many in his legion prescribed to a different code: "Always watching, never trusting."
Though his expression still seemed troubled, the Lord-Commander nodded at this, and made a motion somewhere between a salute and a dismissal. "Good. That will be all."
"Very well, milord." Vladis saluted again and departed Dante's chamber, shutting the heavy door behind him.
Dante paced about his chamber, deep in thought. He idly glanced back to his windows, and noted that the grey light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. In a motion that had become routine to him, Dante drew heavy, red curtains down over his windoes, leaving only the dim light of his few lanterns that glittered against his many gilded trophies and artworks. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Dante stopped his pacing to stand before the shrine to the gods in the corner of his chamber. Dropping to his knees in a stance of piety, Dante prostrated himself before the gods in prayer. He prayed for guidance in these troubled times, and he prayed for strength. Strength for himself, and strength for Imperia.
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