“And so I was welcomed into the secret fortress of the Legio Occulta of Augustus.”
Dagos stopped speaking.
There was silence in the auguraculum of the temple of Jupiter. Not a comment, not a murmur. The anticipation of those who were listening to the priest’s account was palpable, as was the tension his words had unleashed.
“And…” said the rex sacrorum in an attempt to prompt him.
“And the fortress contains command and control offices and training camps, but Augustus, in his foresight, created a dense network of dormant presidia located in various provinces of the Empire and able to intervene quickly in any case of necessity.”
“Interesting. Is there a map?”
“A map? Not as far as I am aware, no.”
Fresh protests arose among the priests, which only ceased when the albino augur raised his eyes to the audience. Silence returned – a silence which continued for a very long time. Then came the question that Dagos had dreaded hearing.
“Why did you choose to leave them in the end?”
The rex sacrorum spoke the words carefully, so that even the most distant of the priests in the temple would hear them.
Dagos hesitated.
Fear.
“Dedication to the true cause,” he said.
Pride.
“I realised that I was wrong,” he added.
Envy.
“And are you now convinced that you have made the right choice?” insisted the rex sacrorum.
Dagos took a deep breath. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and the eyes of all those present on him like incandescent daggers, burning into his flesh.
“Yes,” he said.
A loud peal of thunder made the temple tremble, and fragments of plaster fell from the roof onto the heads of the priests.
Dagos did not dare think about what had happened to Jupiter’s chariot.