With every day that passed, and still no orders about the imminent war, both the Legion of Chains, and more importantly their commander, were becoming increasingly restless. It was only a matter of time before someone did something stupid, and today it appeared was that day.
The machine commander was sparring with two of it's Elites, blows of sword on scythe echoing across the Association compound. Hex brought it's scythes up, crossed to block the blows from both men, who by now were panting heavily.
Where Verishia selected her Elites for their power and ferocity, Hex had chosen it's personal guard for their ability to think calmly under fire, and they were pushing themselves to the limit to fend off Hex's increasingly furious sweeps of it's scythe-blades. One of the pair finally made a mistake, and ended up with the back of one of Hex's blades swept into his chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying.
Hex immediately called a halt to the fight, not because of the Elite however; his injury was minor, bruising to help remind him to react faster next time. No, Hex had stopped because a cordon of three soldiers had approached the training circle and waited to address their commander.
Insectoid eyes swung over and Hex nodded to the Elites, #See to your wounds, inform the others that we will be conducting another flight drill this afternoon.# The two men bowed, one holding his side gingerly, then both turned and moved off to the barracks.
Hex finally turned to the three waiting soldiers, at a nod from the machine, their leader strode forwards and saluted, "Sir! There's been an incident in the camp barracks. Four men are dead and eight wounded."
Hex's eyes flashed briefly and the machine stood taller, #Show me.# Hex spoke simply, it's patience was wearing thing lately, and it had already calculated the probability that something would happen, just not this quickly.
All three men saluted, then turned and led the machine out of the main compound and through the large camp of tents south of the compound, the main encampment of the Legion of Chain. Everywhere it looked, Hex could see the telltale signs of an army stirred for war, but forced into extended delays in camp. Sentries here were drunk or sleeping, over there a circle of soldiers played a gambling game, and there another circle indicated a sparring fight.
Hex and it's detail moved past these minor infractions and towards a new circle, this one held back by more alert soldiers. The area was roped off, and as soon as the crowd parted, Hex was beginning to theorize what had happened.
Within one of the larger mess tents, a fight had broken out. While this in itself might not attract notice in such a large encampment; in this fight someone must have drawn a weapon other than their fists. Broken furniture was smeared with blood here and there, and four corpses were lined up to the side of the tent. Another eight were being tended to by Suede's physicians, and from their expressions it seemed that the two most seriously wounded might not survive.
Hex paused for one moment to consider the scene, then turned to the guard captain. #Obtain statements from everyone involved, then bring those responsible to me. I must speak to Lord Brutin immediately, after which I will be waiting in the compound, at the punnishment circle.#
The machine spoke no other words, merely turned and strode quickly back towards the compound. When two drunken soldiers were slow to get out of it's way, Hex simply swung the back of it's scythe-limbs and knocked them out of the way. Thus far, noone had ever seen the machine act like this, and those who knew little about machines would swear that their commander was furious...
The machine commander was sparring with two of it's Elites, blows of sword on scythe echoing across the Association compound. Hex brought it's scythes up, crossed to block the blows from both men, who by now were panting heavily.
Where Verishia selected her Elites for their power and ferocity, Hex had chosen it's personal guard for their ability to think calmly under fire, and they were pushing themselves to the limit to fend off Hex's increasingly furious sweeps of it's scythe-blades. One of the pair finally made a mistake, and ended up with the back of one of Hex's blades swept into his chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying.
Hex immediately called a halt to the fight, not because of the Elite however; his injury was minor, bruising to help remind him to react faster next time. No, Hex had stopped because a cordon of three soldiers had approached the training circle and waited to address their commander.
Insectoid eyes swung over and Hex nodded to the Elites, #See to your wounds, inform the others that we will be conducting another flight drill this afternoon.# The two men bowed, one holding his side gingerly, then both turned and moved off to the barracks.
Hex finally turned to the three waiting soldiers, at a nod from the machine, their leader strode forwards and saluted, "Sir! There's been an incident in the camp barracks. Four men are dead and eight wounded."
Hex's eyes flashed briefly and the machine stood taller, #Show me.# Hex spoke simply, it's patience was wearing thing lately, and it had already calculated the probability that something would happen, just not this quickly.
All three men saluted, then turned and led the machine out of the main compound and through the large camp of tents south of the compound, the main encampment of the Legion of Chain. Everywhere it looked, Hex could see the telltale signs of an army stirred for war, but forced into extended delays in camp. Sentries here were drunk or sleeping, over there a circle of soldiers played a gambling game, and there another circle indicated a sparring fight.
Hex and it's detail moved past these minor infractions and towards a new circle, this one held back by more alert soldiers. The area was roped off, and as soon as the crowd parted, Hex was beginning to theorize what had happened.
Within one of the larger mess tents, a fight had broken out. While this in itself might not attract notice in such a large encampment; in this fight someone must have drawn a weapon other than their fists. Broken furniture was smeared with blood here and there, and four corpses were lined up to the side of the tent. Another eight were being tended to by Suede's physicians, and from their expressions it seemed that the two most seriously wounded might not survive.
Hex paused for one moment to consider the scene, then turned to the guard captain. #Obtain statements from everyone involved, then bring those responsible to me. I must speak to Lord Brutin immediately, after which I will be waiting in the compound, at the punnishment circle.#
The machine spoke no other words, merely turned and strode quickly back towards the compound. When two drunken soldiers were slow to get out of it's way, Hex simply swung the back of it's scythe-limbs and knocked them out of the way. Thus far, noone had ever seen the machine act like this, and those who knew little about machines would swear that their commander was furious...