Brilliant orange poured out of the morning sun and across the horizon. The sky was blood red, and the furrowed clouds were every shade from palest pink to deep crimson. All of this over a Frach-carved city like Garah was a truly beautiful sight to behold.
Atlas watched the daybreak from his dormitory window, following the motions of a small flock of birds that danced upon the morning light. Every now and then they would climb steeply to meet the rising dome of the sun, before banking sharply and diving back towards the mountain ranges again. He wondered, as he watched the birds in motion, whether everything would be alright. Would they be able to find the Pillar? If they did, would he be able to bring it back without incident? What of the ragtag convict guard sent to escort him, would they earn their freedom?
He sighed, and turned away from the sill as the flock performed their coup de grace, an upward loop and a final dive into the treelines. In his room hung a set of clothes on a single iron hanger, and he walked across the cold floor towards them, curious. They had been there for a number of days but he hadn’t paid them any heed, until now.
The clothes and personal effects of General Atlas Revaan of His Majesty’s Royal Brigade.
It was a small and almost illegible label that was tied to a coat, but he recognised the handwriting as his own.
“Let’s see here…”
Article by article, Atlas lay the clothing down on the bed. The first piece was a standard black undershirt and pants, nothing particularly fancy. The next items were slightly more glitzy; a white greatcoat with silver runes embroidered into the sleeves, all the way up to the shoulders and along the back of the collar. A silver sash was tied around and through the belt loop on the coat, which had silver buttons dotted up the front. Finally, there seemed to be a pair of gloves; made from silk, coloured white and finished around the cuffs with a simple gold trim.
It was indeed an elegant uniform, although not a General’s standard uniform by any stretch. It was customised to very unique tastes, so much so that only a General with high standing would have the authority to wear such attire in the line of duty.
If I die, at least I’ll look good.
Atlas pulled on the pants and the undershirt, before threading his arms through the sleeves of the coat. He tied the sash around the waist, and laced his boots, before finally pulling on the gloves. He stood, dressed at last, in front of a body length mirror.
“Off to the ball?”
The voice startled him. Atlas spun to meet Captain Iziz standing in his doorway, one of the escorts for this mission. He was a short, built man with a gruff voice and a face full of stubble shadow who looked a little bit angry all the time, but Atlas had heard that he was a tenacious fighter and a loyal soldier, and that was all that mattered. He saluted accordingly, which Iziz reciprocated.
“If this is a ball, start me off on a slow song.”
“No time for that, General. It’s time to go.”
Atlas looked bemused. “So, I’m a General now? I’ll be happy to claim the pay if they are offering me a proper commission.”
Iziz turned his head a little. “I fought with you when we stopped the separatists at Gaus VII. To me, you’ll never be anything but the General, sir. I was caught on the wrong flank and trying to fight my way through to a key position when some little bugger tried to spay me with a spear. You took him clean out, sir. A second later and I would have been dead. I’ll make sure you are well looked after on this journey, sir.”
Atlas felt a little touched. He had no memory of Gaus VII, but the emotion that Iziz was trying to keep buried beneath his rough, manly exterior was enough to convince him he had made a difference to someone, even if it were only this one man. He hoped, for Telgradia’s sake, he could do even more for so many others.
“I do have one concern though, sir. Can you fight, sir?”
Iziz's question knocked him off guard. Atlas paused for a moment, looking down at the floor and stroking his chin.
What does he mean "Can I fight?" Of course I -
"It's just that, sir, with the greatest respect...you've been asleep for a long time. There are going to be a lot of men out there to protect you, but between the convict guard and the people responsible for the theft of the Pillar we have the potential for a nightmare if it all goes wrong. We don't know what's on the other side of that portal, waiting for us. I heard about what happened with Keats at the proving grounds...it goes no further than us, though."
Atlas stared at Iziz in disbelief. Why was he now having his abilities called into question?
"Listen Iziz. Firstly, Keats used a level forty Dakuatsu with a full incantation and I walked away from it. I admit, I am a little rusty with my own, but I've had a few days to train with what I know and I'm satisfied I can do a job out there. Secondly..."
Iziz bowed his head a little, and waved an apologetic hand before Atlas finished.
"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no offence. You don't have to explain. We're all quite nervous about this, there's a lot that doesn't add up. The Pillar's last known location was a small garrison on an island called Corone. We don't know what's there but we think that whoever stole the Pillar wasn't working alone, and we could be walking right into a trap."
Atlas nodded.
"I expect so. But, again, I have to reassure you Iziz...I'll be fine. You won't have to babysit me on this."
Telgradian Gateway
The room that contained the portal to Althanas was gargantuan. It resembled an old monastery, with cylindrical limestone pillars connecting the moss covered granite floors with beige archways that stooped up into the rafters, and sunk low into the aisles. Everywhere in the room there were random piles of debris that had fallen from the crumbling roof, except for the gleaming white pedestal which contained the gateway to Althanas.
The pedestal itself was hexagonal, carved from the best marble and engraved with many golden and silver symbols and runes, most of which were unintelligible to modern day Telgradians. Four stone claws curved up and in towards a glowing ball of marine blue light that pulsed and hummed above a metal rim.
Atlas stood at the head of a column of men. The first section contained his officers, Iziz and Mott, and a couple of guards from Kokushi that had been requisitioned for the mission. Behind these were the convict guard assigned by the Council. Atlas looked upon them, and saw many things. Desperation. Ferocity. Fear. Insanity. On some of their faces, he saw hope. On others, he saw despair.
Each of them was a life. Each of them once had something other than the barren, desolate future of Kokushi. Hopefully, they would all come back alive to atone for their sins and live again as free men.
Hopefully, they would choose not to rebel at the first opportunity.
He stood for a moment, and paused for thought. Then, Atlas decided to address his men, and especially the convict guard patrol attached to him.
“We’re going to a place called Althanas to get Osiris’s Pillar. For a lot of you, it will be completely alien. Some of you have spent many years in Kokushi. Some of you have indeed been there your whole lives. This place will be dangerous. There is a good chance we will have to take our objective by force, and I promise each and every one of you now: if you fight hard when it is asked of you, and are loyal to your brothers and sisters amongst you and my men, you will walk free amongst the citizens of Telgradia again with your pride restored. I am Atlas Revaan, and I do not lie to any of you, For our honour, our dignity and our respect…we go forth.”
There was no cheer, or rallying cry, or clashing of shields. There was no need for that here. All there was in the room was anticipation and fear of what was to come.
Revaan felt a tingling in his arm. Iziz behind him strapped on his helmet, tightening the chinstrap to maximum until he had a second fold of skin. Each of the convicts looked a little nervous, like the queue for the gallows on an execution. Whatever anyone felt like now, or whatever reservations anyone had about going, it no longer mattered. The time was here.
Atlas approached the portal slowly, walking tentatively up the marble steps and into the grasp of the iron claw. Electric sparks of blue lashed out from the pulsing sphere and whipped his cheeks, stinging like hailstones in winter. As he penetrated through the marine blue membrane of the portal, his ears popped and everything sounded as if it were being heard from underwater, so he quickly shut his eyes instinctively.
When Atlas opened his eyes a moment later, they were struck by brilliant white, and he winced in pain. He could see Iziz and a huddle of men through the blinding light, wading through the viscous liquid membrane of the warp portal's interior.
Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air. A scent of soil, of grass and earth, of leaves, trees and foliage, then of dirt, gravel and stone.
They had arrived as planned.