Editing Brotherhood (Story)

{{Delete|While this is a good story, 1d4chan is not the place for it as it hasn't been a major thing on /tg/}}

                                                                    Brotherhood
                                                                 By Kroot Kindred
                                         Theodus     Anaiel     H’aman     Kurrack Lai     Domina Artemis
                                                                     Chapter I
                                                                      Theodus

	Describing how a drop pod operates is a lot like describing a fantastical attempt at self destruction. You are given the final trappings of war, be it spare boltgun magazines, a frag grenade belt, or a final purity seal pinned on the shoulder or breast. Then, you gather your armaments, and strap yourself into the pod, all the while alarm bells signifying that the docking bay would soon be deprived of oxygen would be blaring around you. There is a numbing wrench in your ears and mind as the docking chamber is purged of life-giving air, and then you fall. You fall for miles, minutes, or, for one unfortunate past mission of mine, hours. I knew no fear as I fell, however, for I am an Ultramarine.

	Or, at least I was.

	I was a Captain in the First Company for my Chapter of Space Marines, the greatest warriors of humanity. I lead soldiers into battle against numerous foes, and was well decorated within my ranks. I had stood past centuries of bloodshed and war, all the while my mind being held a fortress of stoic bravery, and then my station was ripped from me. Men in black power armour appeared on my ship bearing Inquisitorial Rosettes, and offered me what they referred to as an honour. They gave me the chance to serve a secretive organization known as the Deathwatch; a coalition of veteran Space Marines who had proven themselves on the field of battle. Men who stood against the tide of Xenos, the alien. I accepted, unknowing of the position’s consequences.

	Once I joined the Deathwatch, my death was staged on my ship. A corpse was drawn, from whom I do not nor wish to know, and I attended my own funeral. My men believed their Captain had died not while leading them on the field of battle, but taken by disease. I was not celebrated with valour or praise, just sent me into the void undecorated and unremembered. I had died, and in so doing I learned why my new colleagues had nomered themselves Deathwatch. I was quietly whisked away from my ship, and onto a new one, wherein I was demoted to serving under a new Captain named Daessios.

	As I fell in the drop pod with Daessios, I pondered why I had ever joined this shadow organization in the first place. While I do not regret the honour of serving the Emperor with his most chief veteran fighters, I do still hold an affection with those I had called friend and brother. I wondered what they were doing now, and how many had died since I had left them. I wondered if any of them still thought of me, or if any of them even cared to carry on my legacy. I quickly dashed away these thoughts, for they were selfish and cruel. My legacy is the legacy of mankind, and it is not my place as a Space Marine to question that.

	“Brother Theodus,” the man beside spoke, his voice garbled by the vox-receiver of my power armour, “I sense a turmoil in your mind. Hold fast, and banish such thoughts. We go to war.”

	The man speaking to me was Anaiel, another member of the Deathwatch and former member of the Ultramarines, though I had never met him in my life before personally. He was a librarian, a psyker, capable of feats those living on primal worlds would akin to magic or sorcery. I had shared much of my time with him since coming to the Deathwatch due to our similar past, and I have grown a fondness and understanding with the man. Fighting beside a fellow member of my previous Chapter was a boost to my morale, which was probably why we were selected to accompany each other in our Kill Team.

	Aside from myself, my Brother Anaiel, and my Captain Daessios, there was a final, silent man in the drop pod. Unlike myself and Anaiel, he was a former member of the Salamander Chapter of Space Marines, little more than a fire cult in my opinion. While he was base and held little with the common teachings of tactic and strategem, H’aman was an expert in heavy weapons and demolitions. Skilled enough to join the Deathwatch, at any rate. His head was bowed in prayer, and he cradled his gun to his chest.

	As we continued to descend, I too bowed my head in prayer. My thoughts turned to the Emperor on Holy Terra, and how we were doing his work by coming here and meeting out his divine will. As my eyes closed, Captain Daessios spoke, “Fear not the alien, for Humanity’s destiny is Higher than any other form of life. We do not go to war, Witch, we go to purge.”

	As if his words were a divine sending, the drop pod crashed into the ground with a whirring slam. Our harnesses released after the initial impact, and the walls of the pod lowered to reveal a smoking battlefield. Three figures, squat and hiding behind cover, turned towards us with shock and anger in their expressions. Their faces were green and ugly, like the maw of an inbred kanine. Dagger teeth jutted from their snarling mouths, and all three took on the cry of, “WAAAGH!” as they saw us.

	I grasped my shield in my hand, crackling energy humming from it. I knelt underneath its protective surface as the Orks rose their crude weapons to fire at me. The energy of the shield lashed out at each of their bullets, destroying them before they could impact. While they fired upon me, H’aman rose his fiery weapon, thrumming red with heat and death before discharging into our offenders. The screams of the Orks as they burst alight brought a wicked smile to my face as I rose from my hiding position to see their scorched carcases.

	We four angels of death stepped from the pod, gazing out at the field of destruction around us. Smaller creatures fled from our presence as they saw their masters burn, and we returned their cowardice with stray bolter-fire, killing them instantly. We walked forth, calm in demeanor and cold in exterior. Men and women dressed in combat armour stood at attention as we stepped past them. Some of them bowed their heads, swearing loyalty to the Emperor or bravery in battle. Captain Daessios was furious at all of them.

	“Guardsmen!” he began, “do not stand here idle in the face of the enemy! The Emperor’s women and men have little time to bow during war. Take up your weapons, regroup where the fighting is thickest, we shall handle ourselves!”

	The majority of the Imperial Guardsmen nodded, taking up their weapons and wounded like Captain Daessios commanded. I looked after them, and asked, “And where shall we go, Captain?”

	Daessios looked to Anaiel, who was firmly grasping a long metal staff in his armoured hands. It held heraldries of winged beasts and eyes that glowed with a faint blue hue as it swayed in the wind. Anaiel himself was gazing into the cloud marred sky, frowning as he spoke, “I sense the green-skin’s commune in the Warp. It dances across the sky like… like a naked drunkard.”

	“Can you follow it, Witch?” Captain Daessios asked, taking up his gun as he surveyed the ground.

	“I believe I can. Its source is not doing anything to mask its presence,” Anaiel assented, casting his gaze back down again. His red eyes shone through the shadows of his embroidered, white hood with a fiery concentration. He had caught the figurative scent of the Ork Warboss, and he was ready to begin the chase.

	Daessios shouted encoded orders to the other Captains landing on the battlefield in other drop pods to maintain their position and draw fire away from us. I took in the scene as he did so, one that matched the battle-charts I had glanced upon precisely before we landed ourselves. It was just inside a metropolitan area covered all around by mountainous terrain. The crags would extend for hundreds of miles all around the mining town, giving it a wide advantage to most forms of assault. The station in which we were fighting was a refinery, and forged armour and weapons for the Guardsmen we had just relieved. It was a point of heavy strategic worth, and it was overrun by the Ork Hordes, green skinned aliens who subsisted on warfare of all kinds. We would not let them take this station, even if it cost us our lives.

	After Daessios finished telecommuting orders to the rest of the men, he turned back to us and plainly spoke, “We will follow the Witch’s lead. Shield, stand and guard the Witch. Burns, stand at the rear guard and cover for us. We move, for the Emperor!”

	At the Emperor’s cry, we took position, H’aman standing in the back while I protected Anaiel and Captain Daessios in the front with my Storm Shield. We moved quickly through the battle, staying low and behind cover Marine and Guardsmen fought the green tide of death. Anaiel directed me with verbal or physical indications of where to go. We ran for perhaps fifteen minutes through the city, behind alleyways and thoroughfares, streets and buildings, blood and decay. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the complex, corpses and enemies became more abundant. In our tightly knit band, we dispatched what minor threats came into view, but due to our numbers and discreetly chosen passageways we managed to avoid the bulk of the horde.

	When we came to the downtown area, Anaiel held up a hand. He returned his gaze skyward, and nodded, “Here, it is right here. I can sense the alien’s presence inside this building. He is leading from insi- “

	Before Anaiel could finish, bullet fire rang from the windows. It clashed against Anaiel’s shoulder pads in a wrenching clang of steel against steel. I brought my shield to hide Anaiel from the rest of the barrage as H’aman and Captain Daessios returned coverfire against our attackers. Daessios directed us to back into the alleyway we came from, and we quickly obliged. H’aman was the last to take cover, leaving a final bout of flame to the Ork’s turrets as we gathered ourselves.

	“I marked three guns, Captain, all on the second floor. We need to get inside before they fortify the first,” I listed, taking a knee as I inspected my shield.

	“We need a distraction larger than Burns’s fire it seems,” Captain Daessios murmured, snarling, “Damn them, we should have come sooner.”

“Making comments on the past does not help our present,” I retorted, resulting in the Captain giving me an acid stare from under his helmet.

“Captain,” Anaiel began, “I may have a way to remove the turrets as a problem. I just need to see them.”

“You have a spell for this, Witch?” Captain Daessios inquisited, turning his wrathful gaze from me to the stony expression of Anaiel.

	“I do, but we do not have time for your phobias to impact your tactical judgement. We can either charge mindlessly into the building while bullets rain down upon us, or I can remove the threat to our lives. The choice is yours.”

	“Insubordinate- “

	“Captain, Anaiel, enough!” I broke, standing between the two. H’aman was as silent as ever.

	All was silent save for the Ork’s bullets for a long moment. Captain Daessios finally relented, ordering, “Shield, guard the Witch while it casts its spell. Burns and I shall… provide covering fire.”

	I took up my shield as I stood in front of Anaiel, and charged into the bullets, providing the needed distraction. While the turrets trained on me, H’aman and the Captain fired their weapons into them while Anaiel walked in between them. He raised his staff, and shouted a primal roar at the Orks, one which I would swear to the grave they returned. The air around him shimmered with a blue light, almost as if he had pulled the sky itself down around him. Bolts of the same pigment leapt from his open palm, striking out against the turrets one by one, each becoming silent.

	As the battlefield settled, Anaiel breathed heavily while his nimbus of energy subsided. Captain Daessios drew ahead of us, and scoffed, “Abhor the Witch. Know that our enemy lies ahead, do not be idle.”

	We followed our Captain inside. The door was barred closed, but the meager defenses did not stop our power armour-enhanced strength. The inside of the building was dark, but our helmet’s vision was not impeded. Our armaments were serving us well as we advanced inside the building, as softly as our heavy metal feet would allow. I took the lead as we advanced down hallways, my gaze swooping about to ensure we would not be surprised.

	The loudspeakers of the complex rang with a wine that indicated an improper use of the vox caster, causing each of us to wince as we halted out advance. A gravelly voice sounded  all around us from the speakers, “Space Marines! I didn’t know a fella’ like me warranted such a honah!”

	“Do not waste my time with words, Xenos, my ears require your screams instead,” Captain Daessios responded, signaling us to keep advancing through the hallways.

	“Don’t be such a git, humie. It’s five floors to me, and I’m getting bored.”
	
“Witness the stupidity of the Xenos as it reveals its own position to us, brothers,” Captain Daessios dryly replied.

	“Oi! You weren’t supposed to do dat!” the burly voice indignantly shouted back. Captain Daessios decided to stop bantering with the enemy for as he fell silent, the voice continued, “Yah humies never want to have fun while yah fight. If yah took this a lot less serious-like, I bet you’d lose more. I’d like it if yah lost more.”

	“We would never stoop to your level, alien. Make peace with your false Gods if you hold any, for today you die in the name of the Emperor,” Captain Daessios declared as we reached the stairs.

	“Nah nah nah, yah’ve got that mixed up wrong. Today, yah lot’s gonna die in the name of your Emrpah. I’mma live in filf, squallah, and the blood of your Space Marine brethren!”

	As we reached the top of the stairs, the door to the second floor burst open. A corpse of a member of the Deathwatch flew past, and hit my shield with tremendous force, causing me to trip and fall onto Anaiel. A large Ork easily the size of three men bashed through the door, and filled the room with flame from a weapon mounted into his left hand, all the while shouting the Ork’s warcry of “WAAAGH!” Anaiel and I were free from the danger of the flames as we had toppled onto the ground, but H’aman was caught just inside the blast. A primal roar surged from his Vox, the first sound I had ever heard him make. To anyone who didn’t know the man, it might have sounded like a scream of terror. It was not terror that had overcome him, however, but orgasmic fury.
	
H’aman released flame from his own weapon back onto the Ork Warboss whilst still aflame. The Ork howled in pain, and covered his face with his armoured right side, which was replaced with a tangled mess of wires all connected to a massive gouging claw. Captain Daessios leapt through H’aman’s fire, and plunged his sword into the Ork’s arm, forcing him back into the room. It seemed the Warboss had deceived us about its location, for the pained screams of the Ork before us matched the annoying drivel that once poured from the loudspeakers.

	As Anaiel and I recovered, standing back up again, H’aman’s armour had begun self cooling. Steam drifted off H’aman’s frame as he knelt on the ground, his arm over his side. He was in great pain, but he would survive. Behind him, however, came lights, and shouts of “WAAAGH!” from below. The Orks had tried to flank us, and soon they would overcome H’aman. I shouted, and ran down past Anaiel to support my fallen comrade, the greenskins coming into view as I did. I began to swing my Powermace  against them, Anaiel’s blue bolts of psychic fire clashing from behind me as I did so.

	We held the Orks off from our behind, all the while I hazarded glances down at H’aman. He had noticed the enemy behind us, and had begun to try and stand, bringing his weapon up from his side. I sent a few more blows at the Orks before ducking to one side, not wanting to be overcome with H’aman’s fire. He discharged his weapon at the bulk of the horde, sending the Orks back the way they came, routing them before they could reach us. They ran from the flames and back down the stairs, their morale routed, their spirit crushed. H’aman’s arm went limp as he sank back down against the wall.

	“Anaiel!” I screamed, “Look after H’aman, I’m going to Daessios!”

	“Acknowledged,” Anaiel nodded, “Go, quickly, I’ll do my best to soothe him!”

	I ran from my comrades alone to where my Captain had drawn the greenskin. So far the mission was going well. We had snuck past enemy lines, we had supported the Guardsmen below, and we had even located the Ork Warboss, the leader of our enemies forces. Once we cut off the head of the snake, the body would wither. Our combat here was joined, and we had nearly brought him low.

	The moment I had reached the height of the stairs was the moment my life changed for the worst.

                                                                   Chapter Two
                                                                     Theodus

	As I got to the precipice of the stairs, a grizzly image played in my mind. The visage of the Ork Warboss I had briefly seen and heard flashed before me, its claw bloody in Captain Daessios’s entrails. I saw the image of the man who had torn my life away beaten low and to the brink of death by the enemy. It was a worthy death, one filled with valour. He deserved such a demise, one that would send him away in the surety that he passed in service to the Emperor. It was better than the death he had constructed for me.

	These thoughts were more heresy. I could not allow my mind to be so clouded whilst on the field of battle. I shook my head, raised my shield on high, and charged into the room. Unlike the martyr my mind had pictured, the scene before me was one where my Captain was winning. He had the Warboss on the defensive, using his skill with a power sword to keep the massive creature at bay. Its claw, while powerful, was poor at deflecting the many blows Captain Daessios was delivering. If I joined the fight, the contest would be over before it truly began. It was that fact that made me stop.

	Images kept playing in my head, over and over; beating me like a sledgehammer. While I knew it was my duty to obey my superior, my emotions held other ideas. Darker thoughts brewed in my head. Scenes like the one I had first imagined, all in gruesome detail, came upon me, each one more harrowing than the last. I didn’t want to admit it, but the more repugnant the death, the more joy I felt. Why should this man hold the chisel of my supposed tombstone, and not the other way around? The question boggled my mind for too long.

	While I stood paralyzed deliberating, Captain Daessios landed the final blow. The massive Ork tripped under its own bulk, allowing my Captain to plunge his blade into the creature’s neck. It made an unholy sound as gobbits of its flesh and life’s blood spattered in random directions. It sputtered, jutting a few times before it finally lay still, unable to speak as its mouth filled with liquid. Daessios twisted his blade to ensure the kill was sound, and then removed the blade.

	He stepped away from the corpse, and looked at me, staring coldly as commanded, “We are victorious this day. Bring Burns into this room if he is still able to move, the Xenos is not truly dead until it is purged in the Holy Fire of the Emperor.”

	I stood motionless for perhaps a moment too long. If my Captain knew of the treacherous thoughts held within my mind, he did not show it. I nodded, and returned to the hallway where Anaiel stood tending to H’aman. When I came upon their presence, Anaiel turned to me with a grim expression. For a moment I feared the worst, but H’aman quickly dashed away those fears, sputtering garbled noises as his still body stirred. I knelt down beside the pair, inspecting H’aman’s injuries more thoroughly.

	“I do not know what the Salamanders do to have such a resistance to flame, but H’aman is relatively unscathed. His burns, once properly treated, should be no threat to his life,” Anaiel explained, “The worst of it is that he is still conscious, though perhaps he views that as some sort of blessing.”

	“He is our Brother, I am glad he lives,” I exclaimed, truthful in that statement. While I held skepticism over H’aman’s patron Space Marine Chapter, we had fought beside each other as equals today.

	Anaiel paused for a moment before asking, “Just as our Captain is?”

	My head veered towards Anaiel as shock played on my face under the mask of my helmet. Anaiel’s hooded visage was stoic and masked, but I could tell he held a pained expression as he continued, “I can read your mind, Brother. We will speak of it later, how fares the Captain?”

	“We are victorious,” I breathed, allowing the subject of my mental treachery to rest, “The alien lies dead. Soon his army shall rout. If all goes well, we should be back the Watchtower in a week’s time. There will be no siege.”

	“Emperor be praised, our work here is nearly done,” Anaiel raised his head, a wide and weary smile spread across his face. It was contagious, for I found myself mirroring the expression.

	“Captain Daessios wants to burn the carcass. You know the larger green-skins are, he could be playing dead,” I continued, remembering my purpose here.

	“H’aman is in no condition to move without a gurney. Take his weapon, I will stand here and keep watch over him,” Anaiel offered, standing from his position.

	I took up H’aman’s weapon, and stood as well. I nodded to Anaiel, and moved back up the stairs to where Captain Daessios stood. He was examining the room at large, one which the Orks had turned from perhaps a lobby to a munitions storage. One of the turrets that had harried us earlier stood jutting from a window, and sitting at its aiming receptacle was the body of an Ork, his head charred and glowing blue from Anaiel’s flame. Along all of the walls were crates filled with what I could only guess were spare guns and knives for the Ork chaff that had snuck around us from below.

	“Does H’aman fare well?” Captain Daessios broke the silence.

	“Yes- you used his real name?” I pointed out, a bit taken aback. Captain Daessios had pinned the names Burns, Witch, and Shield on H’aman, Anaiel, and myself since we were initiated into the Deathwatch.

	“The mission is over, you have passed your test. You are soldiers of the Deathwatch now,” Captain Daessios explained, “I just received word that the Orks are retreating into the mountains. This planet’s guardsmen can handle whatever is left of the threat, our work is done here. Shuttles will take us back to our ship before the sun sets on this place. Emperor be praised.”

	“Emperor be praised,” I echoed, “I have H’aman’s gun. He is unwell and cannot move without medical attention, but Anaiel says he will pull through in the end.”

	“Burn the corpse, I shall call for an apothecary- “

	Before Daessios could finish, a shadow filled the room. Darkness enveloped my vision, and at first I thought it was a malfunction in my helmet’s tracking systems. Then, I heard my Captain begin to scream in utter fury, rage, and pain. I brought H’aman’s gun high, and began to discharge it at the ceiling, hoping the fire would illuminate the room around me. It was as if the darkness itself snuffed the flames, for no light emanated from the weapon. My Captain still cried, and I heard the clang of metal against metal, the sounds of combat. We were being ambushed, but this darkness was nothing I had seen the Orks do before.

	I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around, and hefted the shield I still carried high, going low to the ground as to avoid any fire this new combatant might unleash. I needn’t have bothered, as Anaiel’s voice sprang high, exclaiming in the words of High Gothic, “Let There Be Light!” the entire room was illuminated anew in blue radiance. I raised my head above my shield, and looked into the face of Anaiel under his heavy hood. His eyes red in pigment and fury, but sputtered into something like horror.

	I turned around again to see my Captain in pieces. His arm had been severed from his body, and lay flat against the ground ten feet away from the rest of him, leaving a scarlet trail in its wake. Daessios himself was bloody as well, for gashes and cuts lined across his armoured frame, making him look more like jigsaw pieces forced together against their design than a man. His helmet was carved open, and his face, glazed with the macabre signs of death, lay in an eternal scream of anger and pain. My heretical fantasies had been realized, Captain Daessios, my murderer, my teacher, and my Captain lay dead on the cold stone before me.

	His killer was not the greenskin threat we were planning to face. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, clearly not human but something disgustingly alien. Half of its body was covered, or maybe composed of, gnarled tree roots that pulasted with veins and capillaries. The rest of its body was a twisted mass of silver, chrome, and crimson, the latter of which was most clearly the blood of Captain Daessios. It had three arms and no legs, but was held aloft by some skittering creature. It was kneeling, if such an action could be conferred to this monster, next to the corpse, its hands searching along his various belt pouches and compartments.

	I did not waste time with the aberration. I rose H’aman’s flamer high, pointing its deadly nozzle towards the repulsive violation of life that had taken my Captain, and unleashed holy fire upon it. The creature looked up at me with a single green eye, and snarled at me. The fire washed over it, but also seemed to pass through its carapace as if it was not truly there. It retrieved a strange staff, not too unlike Anaiel’s, and thrust it towards me. Light as green as its eye shot towards me at the pace of a bullet, and I rose my shield to hopefully deflect whatever malevolent energy it cast upon me. By the time I lowered my aegis, the creature was scuttling out of the window where it had presumably come in from.

	The danger averted, I dropped H’aman’s gun, and ran towards the body of Daessios. I scanned him for any faint signs of life, but he was already gone. There was nothing I could do for him now. I looked up to see Anaiel beside me, his red eyes grim as he looked about the Captain’s corpse. In the event where Captain Daessios would fall in battle, I was to take command of our Kill Team, and it was clear with H’aman barely conscious and Daessios dead, Anaiel would look to me to find out what we should do next.

	“Return to H’aman, I do not want him unguarded in his current state. I shall… I shall make contact with the nearest Deathwatch Superior, and inform him of the situation. We shall fortify this position should the creature return,” I tried to sound stern, but I was still caught with disbelief of the situation.

	“Theodus- “

	“Do as I command, there was one of those things, there may be more.”

	“Yes sir,” Anaiel nodded his head, and walked back to H’aman without another word.

	I was good on my word, and within a minute I had another Kill Team acknowledge me, and promise to be at my location within the hour. After I had made contact, I looked back at Daessios, Captain no longer. His eyes were still alight with fury, he never stopped fighting that creature. The alien was searching him for something, his pockets still lie open and mostly empty. Spare magazines for his pistol and grenades lay strewn hap-hazardly on the floor. I knelt down by him again, and began to search him myself.

	He had a copy of the Codex Astartes pinned to the back of his belt, a manuscript of war written by one of the Sons of the Emperor, and the Primarch for my previous chapter of Space Marines. It was lined in gold, and held a series of purity seals signifying its holy imperative to drive back the forces of Chaos and the Heretic. His power sword was a relic he had kept from his home chapter of the Black Templars, space marine zealots who fought with the fury of the Emperor himself. It was engraved with a black cross, the insignia of that chapter. On the surface, there was nothing the alien could have made use of.

	The other Kill Team arrived at our position whilst I was still looking through Daessios’s things. What happened next was a wash in my mind. An apothecary carried away H’aman with Anaiel in toe, and I remained in the room where the murder took place. The scent of death, both from Daessios and the Ork Warboss, was beginning to fill the room. The Captain of the other Kill Team questioned me about the mission, how it progressed, and how it culminated into this. I answered truthfully, withholding no detail. He repeated his line of questioning perhaps fifteen times before relenting. We were all tired.

	We left the manufactorum, and went to the guardsmen’s barracks. The citizenry and workers were being escorted back to their positions, the monotony of their tasks beginning to take hold again. I immediately went to the infirmary, where hundreds of guardsmen were stationed as patients. Servitors and medics ran through halls while screaming and pain seeped into the minds of all present. The casualties of war were always numerous. I decided to agree with my Captain posthumously, we should have come sooner.

	I found my battle brothers sequestered away from the bulk of the suffering masses. H’aman had been stripped of his power armour, for he lay naked on the white bedsheets. His burns were being attended to with sacred unguents and soothing balm. H’aman was sleeping, at peace. I craved his rest, and knew that I would be getting some soon enough.

	“We are wickedly fortunate,” Anaiel broke the silence, “due to H’aman’s injuries, we’ll be some of the first to return to the ship.”

	“You find fortune in this, Anaiel?” I questioned, cold in my voice.

	“I find fortune in all things, the Emperor’s blessings can come in small, hidden places as well as shining, golden ones,” Anaiel smiled. It was a weary expression, one that begged me not to test his faith. I relented.

	“Earlier you told me we would speak of the Captain,” I remembered.

	“Brother, please, wait until we return to the ship. We need rest more than arguments,” Anaiel seethed.

	I agreed with him in silence. I walked over to the wall, and tried to think of quiet things. My mind had been tumultuous throughout the entire mission, filled with heretical doubt and treason. My worst, and yet best wishes had been fulfilled with my Captain’s death, and I knew not how to think on it. I breathed deeply, and began to think about other things, simpler things. At one point, I opened my own copy of the Codex Astartes, and instinctually read a passage.

	“The warrior who acts out of honour cannot fail. His duty is honour itself. Even his death, if it is honourable, is a reward and can be no failure for it has come through duty. Seek honour as you act, therefore, and you shall know no fear.”

	“Daessios died with honour,” was all Anaiel responded.

	“Yes. He did.”

	I closed the Codex Astartes, and tasted salt on my lips.


[[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]]