Rhazii was still frowning by the time Meesei got to see his face again, but he wiped his eyes clear and nodded. "I'll do that," he answered. "Goodnight, aunt Meesei."

[hr]
"That is [i]Legate General Gro-Tagnud[/i] to you, Champion of Hircine." The bald, uniformed Orc looked up from the reports on his desk. His look was almost as piercing as the large crested helmet to the right of the papers. Beyond the military precision of his salt-and-pepper beard, his skin was pocked, wrinkled, and stretched in a way only decades in legion service could cause. All the same, his quick spring onto his feet and walk around the table told of a still sturdy body. His firm handshake added strength to the mix.

"But those particulars are not important right now," he continued. "The letter you received should have filled you in on how many men I have under my command for this mission."

Gro-Tagnud was hard to place. He had the eloquent delivery of Marod without the charisma or subtlety. He stepped back and stood with his legs a shoulder-width apart, clasping his hands behind his back.

"First thing's first. I need to know what your expectations are of the legion here. What do you need us for, how do you want us to do it, and how does it tie into your overall desired outcome?"