Legacies Meet For The First Time

To say that he was nervous was an understatement. Not only was Logan new to the legion, having literally just been placed into a cohort, he was also older than anybody he'd happened to meet yet, if you didn't count the Lares. Now, he had requested a meeting with the praetor. Such an action wasn't entirely unprecedented, but it was unique enough to gather attention to himself.

Not that finding the praetor had been difficult. Merely asking for the man had people pointing him in the direction of Calix Kiril and the Principia. While he'd never admit it, Logan was nervous about meeting the praetor, especially since he'd heard that the man was about ten years his junior.

As he approached the building which housed the praetor's office, Logan chuckled to himself. “Here I am, college graduate, monster fighter, new legionnaire, and I'm afraid to meet my ranking officer, a kid you probably doesn't even shave regularly.”

His one bit of insubordination finished, Logan exhaled, assuming a stance that was close enough to military parade rest to pass inspection. Briefly, he checked armor and weaponry. The only piece out of place was his duster. Still, since this wasn't a mustering or inspection, he didn't feel to bad about wearing the non regulation piece of clothing.

Using his boot, Logan lightly kicked the door post, knocking in true Roman fashion. Perhaps it was a trait many wouldn't appreciate, but Alexander had drilled the proper roman behaviors into his grandson and heir. He may not be legion trained, but he would honor his training. Unsure if his knocking had been heard, Logan announced himself. “Legionnaire Logan Alexander Johnson, seeking an appointment with Praetor Calix Kiril.”

Calix sat at the table in front of him, hands folded on top, looking with narrowed eyes at the stack of completed reports on his right hand side. Blinking, Calix shifted his gaze to the left where he usually placed unfinished documents. That particular space on the table at that moment... was empty. Calix narrowed his eyes further as if doing so would summon more papers to his side. The Legacy of Bellona stared hard at this empty space which felt like an empty spot in his gut. If he didn't have any reports to evaluate... what could he do? Of course Calix had many options: a trip to the Arena, strolling down the Pompam Terram and stopping by one of the shops. Venturing into the Greek Camp... well, Calix didn't feel THAT desperate yet. But he didn't really fancy the idea of leaving the Principia. It was literally his home now.

Calix sat back in his seat and rolled his neck, glancing to his left where a Son of Discordia should have been. Calix vaguely wondered what Elijah had gotten himself into, but didn't dwell on it too much. Elijah, as far as he knew, always did something at least semi-productive. He stood up and pushed his chair back, gently pulling his purple cape with him as he began to pace. Calix trumped back and forth from one end of his and Elijah's table to the other, eyes still narrowed and lips pressed in a hard line. To control his thinking, Calix wrapped his hand around the pommel of his first blade hanging from his belt, Phoenix, which had originally been his uncle's before the Tripartite of Evil had trashed New Rome. Thinking of his uncle made Calix think of his father... a former Praetor (like all of Calix's male ancestors before him for five generations) now degraded to a mortal's chauffeur. It sort of struck Calix how he hadn't really thought about his father OR mother until that moment. His duties had snowballed... and have yet to stop.

One of the duties that Calix had was to supervise Cohort sortings, and, in fact, he'd just gotten back from one during morning muster. A tall man who looked more than capable of joining the Legion had been accepted into the First Cohort, Calix's former before his promotion. Calix thought back on the morning, stopping his walk. Tall, definitely. And... older. Yes. In fact, he looked older than most of the other warriors!... older than him! Calix 'hmmed' and would've continued without a second thought to this new addition to the Legion when there came a knock at his door. Calix looked up just as a voice sounded from outside: A Logan Alexander Johnson looking for audience with him.

Calix blinked, his eyes uncurling back to their normal state. The Praetor took his hand from his sword and addressed the closed door. "Enter."

At the approval of his knocking and the command, or offer, it was hard for Logan to tell with just one word statements, to enter, Logan pushed the door ope and entered the Principia. His duster billowed out slightly as he walked forward. It didn't take him long to find the praetor.

While of a similar height, that was all that Logan could say that the two shared in common. Logan had noticed that many of the younger legion members appeared to be in peak physical condition, something which his time in the mortal world had stripped him of. There was no doubt in his mind that all of his skills, hunting fighting, strategy, even foraging, had rusted with time. Now was his chance to clean them up and polish them to a finely honed edge once more.

Standing at attention, Logan explained why he sought out Calix so early in his life within the Legion. “My grandfather, the man who trained me, was Alexander Chitty. He passed away less than a month ago. On his death bed, he gave me this.” Logan pulled the letter from a coat pocket and offered it forward, holding it between the extended middle and index fingers of his right hand. “I was ordered to give it to the praetor upon my acceptance with the legion.”

As he stood there, Logan's eyes began taking in details. The furniture, the stack of papers, the bearing of the man before him. Years of training began to stir to life as he began to gather clues about the type of man who stood before him. He'd heard nothing but good about Calix, but Logan had always preferred finding these things out for himself.

As he stood there, in his forefather's armor, equipped with his weaponry, Logan wondered if anybody would notice the age of the equipment he carried. It had been well tended to in the past, and was in excellent condition. Still, few things could be used regularly for fifty years without leaving signs of that usage. More importantly than inquiring about the age of his gear, Logan wondered when people might start asking questions about his own age, since it was obvious he was older than many of the other romans.

'Speak of the Devil,' Calix thought as the stranger entered the Principia. The person who presented himself to the Praetor was, in fact, the same Legionnaire who passed Calix's mind not two minutes before. He blinked in slight surprise. Most new campers took a few hours or days to settle in before coming in with a problem that needed to be solved. But with the determined look on the older man's face, Calix knew that what he had come to discuss did not concern a scuffle with barrack-mates over bunk arrangements.

The new Legionnaire stopped his march in front of Calix and stood firmly at attention which impressed and confused him. Calix definitely appreciated the show of professionalism, he just hadn't seen it in quite awhile. In fact, to his knowledge, no one had ever come into the Principia in full Roman mode. They would maybe stroll in with the proud and impeccable bearing of a Roman but would break it once of the Legacy of Bellona actually began to speak. Or they'd fumble a bit, trying to figure out what to do until Calix gave them a sighed command to 'rest'. This man walked and halted with no inhibitions, a rarity in this modern version of the Roman Legion. The Legionnaire was also rather blunt, simply offering a letter to Calix, apparently written by his grandfather, an Alexander Chitty. Calix nearly frowned. Chitty.

"At ease," he said, coming to attention himself for a second to give the command. He took the letter and opened it. By skimming the sheet, Calix saw it to be a letter of recommendation from Alexander Chitty for his grandson, Logan Alexander Johnson, just as he proclaimed at the door. Calix nearly thought about smiling. He remembered when he first came into the Legion. He offered the then Augur, Wilhelm, an entire manila folder of recommendations written by his uncles on the Senate as well as his father, only to have them mean nothing. But not now. Not here.

Calix nodded and tucked the letter away in his armor. "That seems to be in order," he said, looking up at Logan. Logan Alexander Johnson. Alexander Chitty. This time, a change in expression did occur in Calix's face. His eyebrows came together a tad. Realizing he was close to staring, Calix shook his head and addressed Logan once more. "Forgive me," began the younger. "The name Chitty sounds rather familiar..."

“A few decades ago,” Logan answered the praetor, “the name would have meant a great deal. I intend to see that it does again.” His stance had relaxed somewhat, his legs shifted to a wider stance, and his hands were no longer held stiffly at his sides, but hung loosely. Despite the still military bearing Logan portrayed, his posture was noticeably more relaxed. A slight smile quirked at Logan's lips as he apologized for his statement. “Forgive me, I didn't intend to step out of bounds.”

With no small measure of pride, Logan explained a small bit about his grandfather. “Alexander Chitty served with the legion during most of the fifties. When he left the legion, he joined the regular military, where he served with distinction in Vietnam for eight years. I have an entire chest in the barracks where I have kept the medals and honors he won, during both his tenure with Rome and his terms in the American military. He never spoke of it, but when he brought me to Rome as I child, he was treated with a great amount of deference. After seeing his medals, I believe he may have served as praetor toward the end of his time with the legion.”

After his explanation, Logan's hand shifted nervously on the hilt of his sword. Slowly, the hand was moved away from the weapon, his thumb hooking into the belt nearby it. In his heart, he planned on honoring the achievements of his grandfather. When Logan discovered who his grandfather's godly parent had been, the medals would be presented at the temple, to show the being what their child had accomplished. It had been a last promise to his grandfather, and one that Logan would not break.

“I never made it to the Wolf House.” Logan explained, “After the death of my parent's, my grandfather took on the responsibility of both raising a son and training a successor. He said he'd seen first hand the value of knowing how to fight in the mortal world and the mythical world. So, everything he'd learned by experience and hardship, he sought to bequeath to me.”

As he spoke, Logan's eyes darted to the chair nearby. He'd spent a good portion of the last several days on his feet, and any rest would be well appreciated. Still, he hoped that he hadn't revealed too much or offended with the talk of his grandfather.

Logan's rather blunt answer took Calix aback. He raised an eyebrow, also taking note of Logan's firm resolve to look at least slightly militarized. Nothing he could do about that, he supposed. It wouldn't exactly kill the Legion either to have more warriors like this one. But it was probably because of this Alexander Chitty that he acted this way. And perhaps his age contributed. Logan apologized with a smile, the first the Legacy of Bellona had seen. Logan apologized for stepping out of bounds.. not for the comment itself. So now Calix knew his intentions. To make a mark. A man on a mission. Which didn't surprise him in the least. But the question NOW: how did this Legionnaire plan to leave his mark? By the sound of Mr. Chitty's accomplishments both in and out the Legion, he had big shoes to fill. Calix absently looked down to his own shoes for a second. He did know how that felt... all of his family members before him becoming Praetor and then members of the Senate... speaking of Praetor...

The name of Alexander started to make a fuzzy picture in the back of Calix's mind. The time-frame Logan gave assisted. The fifties. That was during Grandfather Dante's rule, because he then went to University in the sixties and became a Senator right after that. Grandfather Dante always told Calix about his days in the Legion while rocking his grandson on his knee. Some of the words were muddy, but Calix SWORE he heard the words, 'Praetor' and 'Alex' more than once during these stories. Calix narrowed his eyes in a searching manner at Logan's face. And a face. A much, more younger face, yet older than his when this 'Alex' stopped over for a drink or just a talk. The younger, yet older face with the same amount of pride and purpose. Calix could have been hallucinating, but he was pretty sure...

Calix listened to the rest of Logan's story with rapt interest seeing if any more puzzle pieces came together. Very odd, not going to the Wolf House. Even with his impromptu training and book tutelage as a child, Lupa had found Calix and his parents during their vacation in Rome the summer before his entrance into the Legion bearing news about the destruction. That's when he was taken. That's when he was properly trained. But by the looks of it, Logan had had a good amount of conditioning himself. The older demigod's eyes flickered away, and Calix turned. His chair? Oh yes of course. "You must be tired," he said, stepping aside and motioning Logan to sit. He walked around and remained standing, wondering if he should continue with his hunch. He went for it, something very un-Calix-like.

"Your Grandfather. Did he serve his Praetorship with a Kiril?"

Logan smiled lightly at Calix's question. As he adjusted his duster prior to taking the seat, making sure that the coat wasn't sat on, but didn't bunch up around his sword either, he answered lightly. “My grandfather had countless books, most devoted to war and strategy, and many related to mythology. He even had a few of his own journals from his time in Rome and Vietnam. However, only one book stayed on his desk constantly: the Divine Comedy.”

Logan let that statement sink in as he settled into the seat, still maintaining good posture, but letting out a barely audible sigh as he did so. A slight smirk still played at his lips as he explained the relevance of the book. “The book was also signed, by one Dante Kiril, a Senator, or so it said. My grandfather said that it was a shared joke between him and his closest friend. What that joke may have been, I've no idea.”

Logan was silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. His brow furrowed as thoughts emerged, arranged themselves into words, and were judged. After a moment, he spoke. “I am older than many of the legion. I came here in weapons and armor belonging to somebody who had already proven themselves. I have done nothing to prove my worth, or show that I should even wear the armor. However, Rome has called me, and I won't turn from my duty. Perhaps, in time, I will prove myself worthy of my grandfather's legacy. Perhaps, like him, I will earn the friendship of a praetor. For now, all I have to offer is what training I have, and hope it is enough”

((Awesome stuff because I was looking at my copy of The Inferno when I decided on that name XD))

Calix would have rolled his eyes if what Logan told him was one SMIDGE more predictable. Of course Grandfather Dante would pull something like that. Name him after a famous poet and he goes off, claiming himself to be so, signing books and everything it seemed. Sometimes it astounded Calix how they came from the same line of ancestors. Grandfather Dante, even though he served the Legion well, acted like such a clown sometimes. When Calix sat in his study, poring over books much like the ones Alexander Chitty possessed, Grandfather Dante would come up behind him in some disguise he either created or acquired from various trips overseas and make ridiculous noises. After twenty times, Calix had gotten used to it, and the studious young man paid his grandfather no mind.

Evidently, Grandfather Dante shared his jokester ways with his fellow Legionnaire and Praetor. And that was enough to make Calix's mouth twitch in a smile. "That sounds like him," he confirmed, rubbing absently at his arm guard then continued in a slight mutter, "Thought himself an Alighieri when he couldn't even write a proper Haiku..."

Logan brought them back to a business state of mind, telling Calix how he wore his grandfather's armor without earning the right to do so, being called to Rome, hoping to serve and do justice to his grandfather's name. Calix folded his hands in front of him, hearing sincerity in every word. Calix knew how that felt, to grow up in a shadow of someone so great... a lot pressure it put on someone's shoulders. Even though Calix sat there on the Praetor seat, he still had much to prove. Just being called 'Praetor Kiril' wasn't enough. He gave a friendly smile to the older demigod. "I welcome you personally into the Legion, Logan. From what you have told me, you have come from a strong legacy and from what I have already seen, you will have no problems bringing honor back upon your family's name. You have a friend in this Praetor, I assure you."

Knowing that Calix considered him a friend meant a lot to Logan. Even if his superior was just being cordial, it was the thought that counted. Any friends would be appreciated, even if it meant he had to venture to the Principia regularly to meet with them. If he was fortunate, and the legionnaire smiled slightly at this, he might reside here as well someday.

Logan bowed his head slightly, showing his appreciation for Calix's affirmation. “Thank you, Calix.” Logan deliberately didn't use the man's rank this time, offering his own statement of friendship as well by dropping the formality.

After a moment of silence, inspiration struck Logan. “Perhaps I may be of use to the legion sooner than anticipated. When he returned from Vietnam, my grandfather realized the benefits of guerrilla tactics, especially when against a numerically or technologically superior foe. While the abilities of many monsters that we may face don't count as technology, the same strategy still applies. Alexander made sure that I knew how to work with the legion in both traditional, and guerrilla methods.

Also, Alexander often scorned the legion for its over reliance on unicorn horn as medicine. Even the greeks have this,” here Logan faltered briefly before finding the words, “ambrosia. Such medicines are fine, but what if you have none? How then to treat your wounded? If you're away form the city on a quest, there may not be a store that you can run into.

When the Roman Empire was at its height, the legion marched on its stomach. Every man knew which plants could be foraged for food and medicinal purposes. Imagine if such knowledge was taught to our legion again. Every legionnaire capable of foraging and guerrilla warfare to defeat whatever enemy we came across. These need not replace traditional legion training, but could be used to augment it.

While I may not have an extensive, encyclopedic knowledge of such things, I can teach what I know. Would I have your permission to do so, if my colleagues show interest and willingness to learn?” Logan asked with some hesitation, hoping he hadn't overstepped his bounds.

Calix gave Logan a friendly smile when her returned the informality offered to him. Foolishly, he thought that was where it would end. And Logan would leave the Principia to go about his way, making a name for himself and his Grandfather. Fleetingly, the thought occurred to Calix to ask Logan about the things his grandfather taught him. Already, the older demigod demonstrated an amazing amount of control and respect and overall military upbringing. But it seemed that Logan read his mind, for soon he was spouting different ideas that would benefit the Legion. Two ideas: guerrilla warfare and better knowledge of the world around them. Calix froze for a second, running through both ideas in his mind.

Guerrilla warfare seemed like the most un-Roman thing imaginable. Jumping from place to place like un-civilized... creatures, hacking and slashing at everything in sight. No order! No strategy! Well, technically, it DID count as a strategy and a very effective one of Calix remembered his history correctly. But they were ROMAN. Surely, a lot more people shared the same thought as him. He didn't think that the Legion would change so easily overnight... even if these tactics were used just to 'augment' the training. Calix felt torn between catching them up with the times... or keeping their battling tradition. He pursed his lips and pulled his eyebrows together. "We'll see," he said vaguely.

But the second idea did cause a more positive reaction. As a child while reading through his own grandfather and father's texts, Calix came across much of what Logan spoke about. Plants. Edible and deadly. What could be used as a salve and what could be made into a soup. Even with modern commodities such as mortal money and convenience stores, and the all important unicorn horn remedy, the knowledge of everything around the area could prove vitally important in the near future. Besides, how much unicorn horn could you carry around with you in the Mortal world without looking like a fool? Calix's look of disapproval softened slightly and he gave a slow nod. "I see... we can't pamper the other Legionnaires too much, of course. They must learn to fend for themselves." He sat back in his chair and bit the inside of his cheek. "Being... stuck here in Long Island has put a quick halt to any quests. The knowledge would not be put to good use as of yet. But an introduction would suffice."

Logan nodded, understanding both what Calix said, and what he did not. The foraging and plant based training would be welcome and useful to the legion. However, any knowledge and use of guerrilla tactics would be done solely by Logan for now. Rome had survived for so long, even in this form, due to the might of its military upbringing. As the old adage stated: if it isn't broke, don't fix it.

The new legionnaire knew that asking to introduce such controversial tactics into the dogma of Rome's military wouldn't meet with immediate success. However, even Rome had fallen at times to under equipped, less populated militaries who were willing to stoop to using whatever tactic they had to in order to survive. When facing such enemies, Rome's response had always been to increase the military discipline and training.

Still, Logan smiled slightly. His efforts hadn't been entirely in vain. Calix had consented to him teaching foraging to those who would be interested. Of course, being stuck within the camp as they were, such options were scarce. Still, he could teach of a few easy to identify plants that would serve multiple purposes. The young man was sure that he had a few ready examples that could be established for a quick lecture in a short time.

Logan rose to his feet, reassuming military posture once more. “Thank you, Calix.” He addressed the praetor by name for the last time in this discussion. “I will take what you've said under consideration and inform you of any results I have from teaching the others. Perhaps I can file my report in person when that happens and we can compare ideas on how to progress those studies.” Logan wouldn't go so far as to ask for another meeting bluntly, but he hoped Calix would accept the invitation.

Logan offered a brief salute, awaiting his dismissal with the military bearing he had been trained with.