rust && metal on his tongue, a hum of pain in his arms, a small cut on his lips. he had swung a fist on a legionnaire’s unsuspecting face one day. WE ARE LEGION, they say. true, in times of peril they stand as one, UNITED, a stronghold of power. but in times of lax ( when no enemy greater than them stands ), each COHORT, each legionnaire, is a man for himself. && when three boys from the THIRD had spun LIES about kenneth, FEARLESS with their fabrication of stories, LOUD && rowdy under the heat of the sun. THEY LAUGHED. THEY MOCKED. TEMPER amassed, garrett was simply having none of it. three against one. but when one is the son of the war god, FIGHTING && WINNING is as easy as breathing and talking. ❛ none of your business. ❜