The noise of armored tread brought the Legate and his officers into the conversation. None of them looked pleased with the news.<br/><br/>'Or because the Empire deems us expendable,' said the first cohort's second centurion, Lucia Cornelia. She was a tough old matron, built like a brick house and mistress of the Legion's siege resources. 'Don't want to waste the glitter boys in the First or the preening, parade ground nancies in the Twelfth, do we?'<br/><br/>'Enough,' the Legate growled. 'We were planning to make a foray into the deeps anyway, so you can all cease your grumbling.' He rounded on the new girl, Cain. 'And you, on the other hand, can tell your Inquisitor that this is a Legion operation first and foremost. Primary objective is to find whatever is stirring these Deep Ones up and mount its head on a pike. Secondary is to put every last Deep One to the sword.<span style="font-style: italic">Tertiary</span>is to mark and open up routes for the inevitable influx of miners once we've made the cave systems safe.'<br/><br/>The Armsman gave him a look of incredulity. 'That still leaves my objective unaddressed. Surely it--'<br/><br/>'QUATERNARY,' rumbled Octavius. 'ONCE. THESE TUNNELS. ARE. SAFE. YOU MAY. SPELUNK. AT YOUR LEISURE.'<br/><br/>'Standard Legion operating procedure,' added the First Centurion. 'Primary objective is to ensure the area of operation is clear of any threats to Imperial or allied forces. Our AO is whatever forsaken grottoes we claim in the name of the Empire. Everything else comes after. If your boss had a gram of sense, he'd have sent you in after receiving the all-clear signal instead of during our little field trip.'<br/><br/>Cain set her jaw, clenching her fist. 'Very well. Where shall I bunk?'<br/><br/>Lucibius scratched his jaw. 'My optio's tent group is down a man. Make yourself useful and fill in that gap. Oh, and try not to piss anyone off. Our boys don't take too kindly to POGs.'<br/><br/>'"POGs", sir?'<br/><br/>'People other than grunts. Clerks, bookkeepers, glorified bureaucrats like you.'<br/><br/>'Noted.'<br/><br/>'And do remove yourself from the vicinity of my sorceror,' interjected a man in Legion leathers. He was a wizened fellow, with a neatly trimmed beard, the liver spots of old age, and the dark skin of a man who came from one of the surface-dwelling cities or tribes. To most, he appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties. In truth, he was in his forties, prematurely aged by the rigors of spellcasting. Arch-mage Malik commanded the Legion's spellcasters like a fiercely protective and demanding father. 'The Legion takes care of its own. My clerics will see to him.'<br/><br/>Titus sighed in exasperation. The girl's gear was almost pristine--a bad sign, most likely. It showed that she'd hardly seen combat, or at least hardly participated in it since her assignment to this outfit. Either way, it made him uneasy. He'd simply have to hope her shield arm wouldn't be the weak link that killed them all. He'd also have to hope that she would be able to fit in without a hitch.<br/><br/>The Legion began its march into the newly-opened mine tunnel on the next morning. Like all Imperial military forces, the XIV marched hard and quickly, leaving little room in its itinerary for breaks to rest and refill waterskins. Not that anyone cared, anyway. Within hours, the XIV had cleared the man-made tunnels and entered the natural hollows of the Earth, accidentally opened by the mining crew that had unwittingly unleashed the Deep Ones. Many of the surfacers in the Legion marvelled and gawped at the titanic caves, bioluminescent flora, and massive crystal growths encountered along the way.<br/><br/>The Legion's last stop for the day put the men on a rocky shelf overlooking an underground lake filled with glowing multicolored microorganisms and plants. It almost resembled a clear night sky on the surface, in Titus' opinion. Opportunistic soldiers fished with spears or improvised lines. Most of the fish caught were blind and covered in tough, rock-hard scales. To the XIV's great pleasure, these were filled with succulent, perfectly edible meat (at least, according to those with fishing and medical experience) which went well with the standard-issue spices in every trooper's mess kit. Some roasted them on spits over open flames. Others used heads and tails in thick, flavorful stews. Preserved and salted, the rock fish supplemented the poorly-supplied army's rations. Much to the chagrin of the Legion's more adventurous gourmands, those fish that were translucent and bioluminescent were thrown back. Satisfied, the troops broke camp the following morning and continued onward.<br/><br/>'Optio, I didn't get to kill,' complained one of the men in Titus' tent group as the Legion marched.<br/><br/>'That freaking sucks, chummer,' replied Aulus, fresh from sickbay. 'Did your drill officer tell you you'd get to kill?'<br/><br/>'Hell yes, he did.'<br/><br/>Aulus turned to Cain, who had probably spent her time in abject horror at the Legion's mannerisms, culture, and sense of humor. 'See, Julius here asked if he could kill people without getting arrested. I asked for beak-wetting. Drill sarge told me I'd get to check out the Elven rainwoods, get all kinds of strange. What'd you ask for, Titus?'<br/><br/>Suppressing a smirk, the Optio kept on marching without a word.<br/><br/>'Titus here, upstanding member of the bourgeoisie that he is, probably saw that one recruitment poster, the one with the Legionnaire slaying the sand dragon in full dress kit.'<br/><br/>'Woo! Dress kit with a sword!' yelled another soldier in the back.<br/><br/>'And now look where we are,' Aulus exclaimed, gesturing at the immense tunnel and the rock formations surrounding the Legion. 'We're six months into our service, Julius hasn't killed anyone, I am half a world away from good knife-ear loving, and Titus is down here hunting for dragons in a worn-out set of armor that smells like four days of piss and ball sweat!'<br/><br/>Cain gave Titus a look.<br/><br/>He raised an eyebrow. 'It's like you<span style="font-style: italic">weren't</span>expecting us to be a band of murderers, thieves, and frat boys.'<br/><br/>She sighed and kept on with the march.