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The Cursed Blue Rose
Of all the banners the Infernate puts in the field, none is read with more dread than a serpent coiled about a burning sword, its fangs poised in both directions. It is the mark of Rysalia, High Commander of the Infernate's armies, and the Legion of Ash is hers.
An ordinary army takes an oath of obedience. The Legion takes something else. Its soldiers pledge a portion of their own spirit to their commander, and the pledge is not one a man may later withdraw — the flow runs one way, toward her, and only death ends it. What it buys them is a place in the most feared formation on the continent. What it buys her is a reserve of strength she carries into the field in the bodies of the men standing nearest her.
This is why the Legion fights close-ordered and why it does not break: a scattered Legion is a weaker Rysalia, and every soldier in it knows so.
The Legion's seat is Kharbeta, the Infernate's religious capital in the southern ash country — a city of basalt ziggurats raised by Creed hands on the bones of a settlement of giants. Doctrine there is not preached so much as taught, and the Legion's demands shape what is taught and to whom. Pupils finish their reading and their obedience in the same hall.
The city keeps its own credo, and it is a short one: do what thou wilt.