Jonathan strolled down the street slowly, his hands hanging idly from his swordbelt and his hat pulled low over his eyes to shield them from the glaring morning sun, the white feather at the top bobbing gently as he strode forwards. He’d felt the hunger again, a week ago or something. The wanderlust, the feeling that he had to go peer over that next hilltop and see what was there. So he had left off, put on some slightly sturdier clothes than normal and headed into the woods, taking the back roads and moving at whatever tempo struck his fancy. He was vaguely aware of also sitting at home, behind his desk, writing letters and reading reports even as he strolled down the boulevard, watching the people walking to and fro. Being in two places at once was sometimes confusing, but as long as you didn’t actually dwell on it, it was the most natural thing in the world…
The man now known as Legion wandered as the city woke up, buying himself a bite to eat and sitting down on a windowsill out of sight. It had been a while since he had walked here, through these streets. A lifetime? Two? Jonathan wasn’t certain, not that it really mattered. Time ran differently to him…There was no such thing as objective time, only a random order of people, places, actions. And even those were only vague…The Demonhost jumped off the windowsill, straightening his hat and brushing the crumbs from his doublet. There was still quite a bit to do today, before night fell. He was in the capital of the Magocracy today…He might as well visit their only attraction…Jonathan straightened his sword-belt, hooked his thumbs along it and headed deeper into town…
The rich and powerful were waking up around now too, their robes rustling as they walked, conversed and plotted. This town was a cesspit, Jonathan knew that all too well. He had lived here, repeatedly, through the ages. This atmosphere of quiet repression and malcontent, this vicious struggling for power, it called to him. People here were hopeless…Especially the mages. He could feel them watching him, their eyes depreciating, judgmental. Jonathan wore no robe, no staff, only a sword on his hip and no signs of power were embroidered on his clothes. To them, he was an untermensch, someone of no worth…They knew so little. He had magic, more than a few of them…And he knew it was just another tool in his arsenal. It mattered so little in the grand scheme of things…
Jonathan locked eyes as he moved, staring down those who challenged him, a small grin on his face as he moved up the main staircase, moving straight up the steps to the main hall. The entry of a man dressed in something close to a military uniform in what was considered a place beyond such things turned some heads, but most chose to just ignore him. He walked up to the registrae, calmly waiting for the scribe to finally peer up from his books…
”Name? Purpose of visit?”
The Demonhost clacked his tongue softly, fixing his dark eyes on the clerk, boring into them and tapping his fingers slowly on the wooden desk in front of him.
”Book 15, page 37...” He waited for the man to get up and take the dusty ledger of the shelf. ”There’s a sealed note there, the word written is “Legionarius.”
The clerk blanched, reading the note, then rereading the order above. He swallowed. Legion grinned, a wicked little smile that he allowed himself. Knowledge was only a little part of what he kept from former life…Ways in were another…The scribe quickly wrote him down a pass, signing it with a visibly trembling hand, before handing it over…
”Thank you…You‘ve been a great help.” He put the card in his pocket, giving the man another hard look. ”Though it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more polite next time…”
He turned, a setting a foot forwards before actually thinking about it, walking straight into someone, his not inconsiderable mass connecting with someone else. He stopped quickly, taking off his head with a slight bow.
”Dreadfully sorry…I wasn’t paying attention, my deepest apologies.”