Sanctum Librarius Zenon Skyreaper placed the enchanted Centurion helmet upon his head. Unlike mundane equipment, its metal remained cool, his vision remained uncompromised and his voice projected through its molded scowl.
He did not wear it often. While wearing it, he felt... detached when dealing with others. However, the situation called for his utmost professionalism.
He narrowed his eyes, not that anyone would be able to see it, "How many, Optio?"
"Over twenty at first glance, Centurion," The green-haired Decanus looked behind the wall, "They're peaceable enough-- though it looks like our villains have gained... a plaything."
Zenon felt hatred grip his heart as he stepped out from the wall, "While the enemies of the Flame still draw breath, there can be no peace."
"Of course. How could I forget?" Tycon shrugged as Zenon walked past, "Do as you will. I shall cover you."
