A long corridor connected the small conference room to the main assembly hall. After coming out, Andilao stood by a ventilation opening, pushed open the window, and faced the garden outside, his left hand braced on the sill and a cigarette between the fingers of his right.
Those of higher or equal standing had finished their "interviews" before him and left, so when those who emerged afterward passed him and saluted, he only needed to nod slightly in acknowledgment, without even turning around.
The garden was beautiful, but he was in no mood to appreciate it, because he knew the position of Legion Commander was already beyond his reach.
When had he become certain?
When Number Two had asked him a few brief questions and told him to leave.
At that moment, he had finally understood the true nature of this "election" game, and finally grasped exactly what sort of candidate the Whip Bearer wanted.
In his own name, the Whip Bearer had swiftly and decisively drawn the finest core personnel in the entire Whip of Order system from the various Frontier Spaces to form a Militia Regiment. You could say this was because the fighting in the Desert was urgent, or because of a direct order from the High Priest, but it need not have been done with such haste.
Moreover, several days had passed since the flurry of transfer orders went out and personnel began gathering as instructed. Everyone knew that such a large, newly formed Legion would inevitably need a new Legion Commander capable of keeping things under control, yet Number Two had only announced this after everyone had taken their seats at the meeting.
This was not haste born of an emergency, but purely deliberate.
The plans they devised, the ideas they outlined, their understanding and