Chapter 2 Duty Bound

AN: In response to a question I got from a guest, Eldar don't travel using the warp in the conventional sense. They use the webway which gates of it are scattered all over the galaxy, on nearly every world. So they could easily skirt Imperial blockades or pickets, by simply just using a functioning gate left on Krieg or using their superior stealth technology to slip past and land on the surface. Another point in their favour is their farseers and psychic abilities which would allow them to pick a time when it would be most likely to succeed and where. I know I pushed it a bit with them infiltrating that far down, but it is the eldar and something that was more powerful than Krieg security pushed them through and onto Kriegs cold surface, plot. I know that's a little lame, but I needed it to happen so it did.

"No absolutely not, it was your fathers dying wish that you be kept safe from the dangers of this universe and I will not idly go back on my word end of discussion."

After the assault by the eldar on the Von Shreider estate and the demise of the late Lord Baron Hans Von Shreider Erichs father and patriarch of the Shreider family the remainder of the Shreiders had been relocated the governors palace while the mess was sorted out by the Ordo Xenos. During the assault on the estate the 403rd Krieg light foot regiment had tried to intervene in time to stop the xenos, but had found their way blocked by blast doors and airlocks designed to seal the estate in case of a breach. The machine spirits had refused to answer the access codes so despite the protests of the servants of the Omnissiah, the 403rd had used melta charges and blasted their way to the upper levels, far too late to be of assistance in the estate defence or to save the Lord Generals life. The regiment had requested immediate deployment to a war zone to make up for their failure, but currently were being detained and questioned by the inquisition, much to their displeasure. Kriegers are not a people to sit idly by when there are the Emperors enemies to be purged or they feel the need to atone.

The baroness was sitting in an estate room across from Erich and his new personal servant Elisha; being waited on by her one remaining handmaiden refusing to accept any of the governors servants on even a temporary basis, causing the young woman to be on call all hours of the day and night. If the baroness had any displeasure at Elisha being present in such a confidential family meeting then she gave no outward sign of it, instead choosing to ignore her and focus her full attention on her son who had only just recently recovered from his wounds caused from his encounter with the xeno warrior. The room was lavishly decorated with imported furnishings and furniture giving it the impression of being a VIP room from a paradise world rather than one where the people had to eek out an existence underneath cold rock and earth many never ever seeing the surface or a star. A soft beige carpet covered the floor and a rich dark falwood covered the walls giving the room a warm feeling as glow globes gave off a soft light. They sat facing each other in high backed padded chairs of a dark green in colour.

"I am sorry mother, but it is my decision and I will be the one to make it," said Erich resolutely not backing down from the matriarch his mother Helena Von Shreider. He was dressed in formal wear, a stark white dress shirt with a black vest and tie along with fine pants with wing tipped shoes. A gold pocket chronometer with a gold chain looped from his pocket to hook onto his vest, as well as his ever present mask on his face. He was the only one in the room wearing one.

"You are too young to make a decision of this magnitude, I forbid you from joining the Korps and that is the final word that we will speak on this matter. If you wish to join the PDF I could have that arranged. You could serve as you feel the need to and still stay close to home where we can best deal with this crisis, but that is the extent of it," finished Helena brushing an imaginary speck of dust off of her rose red conservative dress. She was dressed in open topped heeled shoes and had an application of makeup that was undetectable, bringing out her natural features making her all the more striking.

"Mother you know as well as I do that one member from every family is required to serve in the Korps at any given time if there is a healthy member able to, regardless of reason or circumstance. It is my duty as well as my obligation to join and fight in the Korps for the glory of the Emperor and his holy Imperium. I am a legal adult now and I bear the mark to prove it, so I will do my duty regardless of your feelings on the matter."

"Don't patronize me, I know full well the laws of Krieg and its Korps do not forget whom my husband and your father was, I know more of the Korps than you could learn in a decade. Able is the eldest male and he will join the Korps as is proper. If a time comes when it is necessary for you to join the Korps you shall, but not before it is absolutely necessary for you to do so." Helena held out her hand to the side and a glass filled with amnesiac was quickly put in its grasp by the servile handmaiden at her side. Dark bags hung under her eyes like heavy weights and she seemed barely awake, the added workload taking its tole on her. Helena took an experimental sip of the drink as if deciding whether or not it would merit her approval allowing consumption. After a moment a dark scowl came over her features and she spat out the expensive drink onto the carpet by her feet.

"You stupid girl! I said Brendans finest, lightly aged with a hint of drought berry and flame berry mix. This is Brandons finest with ice berry and flame berry mix lightly aged." She thrust the drink back into the unprepared handmaiden, causing it to spill and nearly fall to the ground before being caught by the silver haired girl.

"I'm very sorry baroness, I'll make it again please forgive my mistake," said the handmaiden busily trying to refill the glass with the proper vintage.

"What are you doing you silly little wretch?" demanded the baroness causing the handmaiden to jump again. Fearful of her mistresses wrath.

"I-I am filling your glass with the proper vintage your ladyship."

"The same glass girl, the same glass! You might as well be giving me runoff water from the sumps. The flavours will mingle and ruin the entire texture. Are you a simpleton? An ingrate? Or simply too much of a dullard to understand such a simple task?"

"No your ladyship, just with the added work I have become tired of late and I have been unable to get the proper sleep I need to perform my duties."

"Are you saying that your mistakes are my fault?" demanded the baroness now turning in her chair to face the handmaiden.

"No, no I would never suggest such a, what I meant was...please forgive me baroness." Helena eyed her coldly for a long moment, causing the handmaiden to shift nervously under her intense gaze before turning back to face her son.

"Completely useless, why did the incompetent one have to survive?" she gave a light chuckle before noticing the disapproving look on Elishas face. "Care to say something servant?"

"No milady, just that Ingrid is doing the best she can having to wait on you hand and foot day and night. I was just thinking that you should be a little kinder to the people whom you owe your way of life to."

"What was that?" demanded Helena in a deadly low voice. "I didn't hear you, speak up while you still have a larynx to speak with."

"I said you should be more kind to the people you depend on your ladyship and threats will not make me change my answer," said Elisha with steel in her voice. Her near brush with death making the baroness seem infinitely less intimidating.

"You insolent piece of vat waste! I'll have you thrown into the ruins of the old world for your disobedience!" said Helena vehemently rising from her chair. "But first I'll have the magos biologis cut out your tongue, put out your eyes, and shut out your ears so you will wander blind, deaf, and dumb through the wastes so you cannot even repent to the Emperor before you die! Then I will make sure that not even a fragment of your bones can be recovered leaving your soul to forever wander the wastes." Despite the graphic depiction of what was to become of Elisha, she stood her ground.

"That still won't change my answer."

"You wench, I'll-"

"Mother I'll thank you not to threaten my servants, it ill becomes one of your status. I will discipline Elisha at an appropriate time, not when we are discussing matters of such importance as this. She has overstepped her bounds and will be punished accordingly I assure you." Helena seemed to deflate with Erichs words and as the anger seeped out of her she sank back into her chair.

"Yes, yes I have not been myself of late. With your fathers untimely demise and you wanting to go into the Korps, it has left me unsettled. Forgive my lapse in grace, you are right it does not become one of my position. I have been taught better than to argue with a servant, I am better than that." A hard look crossed Elishas eyes, but she said nothing further.

"I know mother these are trying times for us all. I am still trying to come to terms with it myself, but I take solace in the knowledge that he has repaid his debt to the Emperor in full and even now stands by his side in full glow of his light."

"Yes I know that is exactly what he would have wanted," said Helena mollified. A change came over her features as if she had remembered something that she had forgotten.

"Where's my drink?" she demanded turning to her handmaiden in a cold rage, her anger not having found a full release. The handmaiden quickly filled a new glass full of the correct liquor and almost seemed to be pleading the baroness to remember that it wasn't her who had spoken out of turn. The baroness grabbed the offered drink and sipped it her anger simmering just below the surface like a well made stew.

"You're not joining the Korps, she said stiffly."

"Mother you know as well as I do that Able is no soldier. He spends all day in his studio painting and sculpting so unless they intend to have him paint romanticized pictures of war all day, he won't last long in the siege regiments. I will still have to go and fight once he dies the only difference being will be that there will be one less Shreider in the galaxy." Able had taken to his fathers death as he did everything else in his life, with quiet acceptance. Though he seemed to have thrown himself into a new project of late, excluding everything and everyone hardly stopping for meals or rest. He acted as a man possessed, completely consumed by his task and work. As if the Emperor himself had given him the task that he now worked tirelessly on. He was grieving, but in his own way. Their sister had yet to be informed of her fathers death and was even yet either finishing her graduation ceremony, or on the return voyage from Hydraphur naval academy. How she would react was still unknown, no doubt having changed in her time away from the grey touch of Krieg. Erich had taken the loss of his father, and subsequent wounds as a direct insult to his family, feeling a cold and unending anger towards the xenos, the enigmatic eldar.

He trained endlessly, long hours of weapons drill, marksmanship and hand to hand consumed his days; his only companions were the training drones and Elisha watching silently from the side. The eldar, come to strike down his father on a night of celebration to throw the Korps into disarray. Even now, segmentum command was looking to see if their was a good of candidate for leadership as the long serving and decorated Lord Baron Hans Von Shreider, also known as Lord General 01. The Korps was unshaken though, prepared for such a loss and the command structure without an absolute commander was far from crippled. The eldar, the word turned sour in his mouth when he spoke it like some bitter fruit left out to spoil. He would not let this trespass against his family allow to go unpunished, he would show them that a Krieger, a Shreider, would not simply take this laying down. He would get vengeance for his family, for Krieg.

"I will exempt you from service, Emperor knows we have enough power to do such a thing. I merely have to talk with the board of generals and explain the situation to them, they will understand or lose the support and funding of our house."

"But mother the shame that would bring, think of how people would talk, what they would say," said Erich completely aghast at circumventing the sacred duty of the Korps. "How the Emperor would look down on us for such an act, it is inconceivable that we would, nay that we could even consider such an act."

"Erich you are not listening to me," said Helena in a very serious tone of voice that would have passed for impassioned on Krieg. "You can't join the Korps, they would find out." She said it conspiratorially like a juvie trading secrets under the play set.

"Mother what are you talking about? What would they find out?" To the best of Erichs knowledge there were no secrets worth finding out about his family.

"Erich you must listen to me, what I tell you must never leave this room. You must promise me Erich, promise me that you will never repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone else. If I have your word, I will tell you why I do not want you going into the Korps." Erich sat for a long moment unmoving before he gave his answer.

"No, I will not swear secrecy to a secret that I do not know the answer to. I will not be deceitful without a just cause. Tell me this reason and I will judge its merits accordingly. Helena seemed

about to scold her son before realizing that she no longer had the authority to deny him anymore and getting into in an argument with him would just lead to him joining the Korps anyways. She let out a heavy sigh as if she had just received yet another piece of troublesome news that she now had to deal with, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger before continuing.

"Erich I know that you are an adult now, but you are still so very young. Just accept my judgement this one last time I beg of you and do not join the Korps, it will end poorly for everyone involved."

"Why?" asked Erich simply.

Helena let out yet another long low sigh and took a large gulp of her drink before answering.

"You are an untouchable Erich." The secret that had been a dark spot on the Shreider family now out in the open.

"A what? I can assure you mother I am more than capable of being touched," said Erich gesturing to the hidden scar beneath his fine clothes. It had healed quickly with the accelerated healing available from the medicae with the Shreiders money. It would heal into a thin scar no more than a few millimetres wide, but travelling the full width of his torso just above the stomach at the base of the ribs. It could have been made to heal nearly invisible, but Erich had chosen to keep it as a momento of his first combat. Also privately to remind himself that he had adhered to his oath and protected Elisha.

"No no, not in that way," said Helena waving off Erichs rebuttal like she would at the seamstresses if they had brought out a dress she found displeasing. "You are psychically untouchable, that is the reason why you wear that bracelet, it is a limiter." Erich stared down at the offending bracelet, and a look of surprise drifted across Elishas features. The bracelet and its purpose finally revealed made the barely noticed piece of jewelry seem oddly heavy and unwelcome.

"Am I, am I a witch?" questioned Erich causing the handmaiden at Helenas side to take a half step back before a look from the baroness stilled her. As feared and reviled as psykers were in the Imperium, she feared the baroness much more than those touched by the warp. That in itself said something of the baroness. Whether good or bad would depend on the person that you asked.

"No, in fact you are the complete opposite of a witch. You see what an untouchable is, is in fact one who negates the touch of the warp. A witch would be powerless to harm you unless they were to do it by traditional means with a gun or a blade." Which was what any regular citizen of the Imperium thought to worry about anyways, but knowing that someone couldn't set you alight with a thought or rip you apart piece by piece with their mind was somewhat comforting. "A physical touch from you would be painful to them or uncomfortable in the extreme, same with daemons from the warp. It is like their minds are fires that generate their abilities and you steal the air from them. You would render their unnatural abilities moot and useless."

"This seems like a gift from the Emperor," said Erich at length. "Why have I not been sent out to join the ordos? I am sure that they would have use of someone like me." A look of distaste seemed to flicker across the baronesses face, but it could have simply been a twitch of her jaw as she sampled the amnesiac she sipped from time to time.

"I'm sorry, but the ordos? What are they exactly?" asked Elisha confused and like most people of the Imperium having only a limited or no understanding of what exactly the Inquisition was. Many heard wild stories of near omnipotent figures that were immortal and armies of astartes at their beck and call. Others still heard stories that they were simply puppets controlled by the Emperors will and were used to judge them. Others still heard nothing at all.

"The inquisition servant, that is what they are," replied Helena without even looking at her. She was still trying to show that her servants were beneath her and she wouldn't acknowledge them if at all possible any more than necessary. Though she was contradicting herself by talking to Elisha, but she was on her second glass that Erich had seen and more besides if her gait had been anything to go by as she had entered the room.

"What the inquisition, they're real?" asked Elisha paling. "But I thought that they were just a story made up to keep us in line. I know Paladonia had an Inquisitorial presence a long time ago, but it was just told that they were a special police force acting under emergency power. To know that the stories are true, how much power do they have actually?" she asked slightly awestruck at the prospect that some of the more extravagant stories were true. That and slightly fearful. In Paladonian legend it was said that the Bell Tower of Reckoning would ring six times a day six times if the Inquisition ever returned to their world, also know as the tolling of doom. Or bells of doom for conversational purposes. The number six being significant as that was the number of legs that both horse and rider possessed together.

"Enough to burn a world if they see fit," answered Helena grimly still not looking at her. "Inquisitors answer only to those within their order and to the Emperor himself. They wield absolute power in the Imperium that slaves and lords must answer to equally. Even the fabled astartes must heed them, despite about how they feel of it." Which wasn't that great and in many cases chose to ignore the inquisitors unless they felt that the cause was worthy or the reprisal was significant enough.

"Then why is it that I have been kept from their service?" asked Erich. "It seems like the best way for me to put my skills to use would be to join them and aid them in whatever way I can. I know that Inquisitorial work is dangerous, but I am more than adequately skilled to defend myself if the need arises and a death serving an inquisitor seems like a fine end to meet."

"Erich, there are many things that you simply do not understand yet. Things that you mustn't understand until the proper time. I have invested too much into you to lose you at this stage in life. You have yet to come into your full potential that will make a mark across the whole galaxy that it will never forget. To risk losing you now, when those dreams could still be realized would be an irrevocable tragedy. Years of planning and painstaking work have gone into you, far too much for you to simply die." Helena was in a tipsy state and was rambling as all those who become tipsy are prone to do and like some of those people, sometimes they say more than they meant to.

"What do you mean that I haven't come into my full potential yet, that I am going to make a mark on it that it will never forget?" Erich sat straighter in his chair if that was at all possible a pole seemingly replacing his spine, holding him perfectly erect.

Helena seemed flustered for a moment realizing that she had been rambling, saying more than she had meant to.

"Just that your father was a magnificent man who did things to shape the Imperium that countless generations will owe him for yet never even know his name. I see the same in you Erich, I see the same man that your father was inside of you. All of my hopes and prayers, the very thing I know dwells within your soul hidden for now will one day come free and change the Imperium as we know it." She smiled as if at a hidden joke only know to herself, the corners of her mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "I know it will surprise even you when it makes itself known."

"I appreciate your faith in me mother and that you see me serving as well as my father, but that is why I wish to join the Korps. If I have such great potential as you seem to think that I do then what better place than the guard? I have learned much in my time at the estate and have learned a great deal under father Emperor rest his soul, but in order for me to reach my full potential as you said then I must be tested as father was tested. As all sons of Krieg are tested. If I am to be found wanting than I will have come short in your expectations, but if I triumph then I will be all the better for it. The guard will make me stronger, temper my soul, make me the man you see me to be."

The entire time that Erich had been talking Helena had been sipping her glass and draining the third one of the conversation. She held it out to be taken away and gestured that she had had enough for the time being, wanting her wits about her as she tried to dissuade her son from his present course of action.

"Erich how many friends have you had over the course of your life?" asked the baroness seemingly picking her words carefully as to not have them misinterpreted as rude.

"I have had many acquaintances over the years, I have met regularly with the Richters children in sparring and my fencing lessons. The Kochs have always been steadfast riding companions and the daughter of the Kessels has practised many hours with me in the musical arts," said Erich taken off guard at the unexpected question and giving the names of people whom he had spent the most time around.

"No Erich, I mean people whom you could rely upon to help you in any situation, those who would aid you no matter the circumstance. Can you honestly say that they feel a close bond to you and you the same?"

"No," said Erich seeming to lose a portion of his stature.

"Then I will ask again Erich do you have anyone who would stand by your side when you needed them, give you unwavering support even in the face of death and certain destruction? Can you name a single person other than me or your departed father in all this universe who would do this for you?" asked Helena with the air of a scholam instructor asking an absent minded pupil an answer to a question that he knows the pupil doesn't.

"Elisha would," said Erich in a subdued tone of voice. An indecipherable look came over the Baronesses face like a ripple in a small pond and just like that ripple it was gone before you could properly study it.

"I mean besides those who are paid to and cling to you for your status." At these words Elishas eyes flashed and her face began to colour as her slender hands tightened into hard fists barely restraining the anger at the baronesses words. Any more and she would do something that even Erich couldn't protect her from.

"Elisha, can you check and see if my laundry is done? It is in the far sanitation room, a few minutes walk from here." A look of confusion spread across her features, before understanding broke through like a light in the dark.

"Of course Lord Erich, I shall be back when the laundry is ready and won't be such a mess." Elisha walked quickly to the far doors and opened one of the crystal handled doors to leave.

"Such a dullard, didn't even remember the task you gave her immediately," said Helena to Erich. Elisha stiffened in the doorway for a moment, every muscle taught under her maids dress, like a bowstring ready to snap. Which in this case was very much similar.

"Lord, the laundry might take a while so I may be gone for some time. When it is done I shall return and be ready for any future tasks." Elisha said it in a tight voice as if trying to keep a much sharper tone from slipping through and lashing out like a commissars whip.

"That will be fine, take as much time as you need." Elisha left walking as straight as her spine would allow and shut the door very gingerly behind her.

"You really do spoil her far too much," said Helena matter of fact to her son. "If you let a servant believe themselves your equal than that is exactly how they will act. They are beneath you and I Erich, much like a servitor is beneath a regular citizen. In fact I would use servitors if regular servants weren't marginally more intelligent."

"A servitor is an insult to the dead, once a soul leaves its body it should be put to rest, not have its body put to work to do menial tasks," said Erich with more feeling than a Krieger was prone to show unless angered. Servitors, indeed as well as even skull probes or any piece of Imperial technology that used human remains in its operation was reviled on Krieg and was as close to social taboo as one could get to on a world where all were expected to fight and die for the Emperor. The need to atone was ever prevalent, and it was believed that once Kriegers' died in Imperial service, the sins were wiped clean form their souls and all mortal burdens relinquished as they were granted the Emperors peace.

To continue making them serve as a servitor was to deny them their rewards earned through a lifetime of service, no matter how short. The fact that Erich had threatened Elisha with it made him disgusted with himself to his very core and every time he thought of it a hard ball seemed to form in his stomach and disperse metallic claws which tightened around his torso, especially around his stomach. It was a strange feeling, much like the one he had felt when he had made Elisha cry. It was also unpleasant, but that in itself was good. It helped him know that it was wrong.

There was the odd exception to it though, as there is with every rule. A particularly brutal or unrepentant criminal could still be made into a servitor, in order to make up for their crimes that were believed could not be atoned for in their natural life span. This thankfully was seldom done, a death by banishment to the wastes was usually deemed an appropriate enough punishment, where the slow and extremely painful death was thought to be enough to cleanse them of their sins. The towering dunes of toxic ash could still be found, constantly being given new girth as the industrial foundries of Krieg pumped out mountainous amounts of pollution to create new weapons of war for its Korps. The fires of the forges were said to be able to be seen from orbit. Assuming there was a break in the dense cloud cover of ash and irradiated water vapour that is. Dark towering clouds that rose kilometres above the grey lifeless surface of Krieg. The spirals of pollutants reached heavenwards like twisted hands giving devotion to the Emperor, pleading for salvation and forgiveness for their transgression. The pitted and lined surface of Krieg like that of a flagellants back, wishing repentance through self punishment. Then there were the vat born.

These were a different case entirely, not reviled at all, but given the greatest respect even if kept at a distance from the rest of the populace. Vat born were voluntary members approved by the magos biologis whom believed they owed a never-ending debt to the Emperor and were determined to serve until the end of time. They gave freely their bodies so that they could be born again and repent, hundreds, thousands, millions of times over. They denied themselves their just reward and were seen as a martyr for the people. Vat born were put in separate regiments going in before even the regular Kriegers, so that they could be the first to die under the enemies guns yet again. Once the gene template of the person was seen to have done more than its duty, it would be discontinued allowing the provider to finally be at peace. Their name inscribed in the great halls of memory, on the very walls of Jurgens crypt room. It was an honour few received, even among the template regiments. It was said that in the end of times, in the final battle. Those with their names inscribed on Jurgens walls would stand by him as his personal retinue, even as he himself stood beside the Emperor. Such was the reverence of those given the honour. Though they were still considered barely human, merely copies of the original. With each passing generation, more and more of the cloning halls became silent as their ancient machine spirits gave up their age old struggle and joined the omnissiah. Despite the many rituals of the adeptus mechanicus, and their tireless efforts to appease the machine spirits they were simply too old. Their technology unable to be replicated or understood. It was said that the last hall would fall silent when the walls of Jurgens crypt could take no more names. Their true names, not numbers.

"I know that, it was merely idle conversation nothing more," said Helena realizing her slip of the tongue. "But back on topic, there is a reason that you have never had a friend, a companion, a comrade. It has to do with your untouchable nature Erich."

"What does being an untouchable have to do with me being socially unable to flourish?" asked Erich eager to finally understand the reasons for all of the unwarranted scorn he had received over the years. To finally understand simply why people felt such a strong repulsion to him.

"To be an untouchable is to reject the warp and all of its power. It is like you cast a dark cloud that pushes all psychic power or potential away from you, which like I said can strip daemons and psykers of their power in an instant."

"But that is good isn't it? I mean I should only reject those touched by the warp, not those whom are not. Are most people just a low enough level of psyker not to be considered a threat by the Imperium and left alone?" asked Erich searching for a brighter answer than the one he knew was true.

"Erich we are all touched by the warp, it flows through every living thing. Our minds, our souls, all of us contribute to making the warp what it is. Every lustful passion, every kindness we've ever done, every spark of anger all fuels the warp. We shape it just as it shapes us, it is one of the only truths in this universe."

"Mother that borders on heresy," cautioned Erich remembering his long conversations on theology with late sister Freya.

"Be that as it may, it is still the truth. You see we all have a connection to the warp, while you do not. You are an anomaly, a blank spot in this world. All souls interact in some form or another, but your soul is buried, shielded by your untouchable abilities locking all connection to the warp away. You will be reviled wherever you go, shunned as if you were a repentant. I have tried to shield you from this your entire life, but it will always be. People will feel uneasy around you, fearful, angry, or find you incredibly pompous or degenerate. It differs from untouchable to untouchable, but every person without exception will feel this way towards you."

"Mother, do you feel this way towards me?" asked Erich hesitantly.

Helena nodded solemnly. "I do, it makes me feel like a terrible mother, a failure in my duty to raise you, but I do. I love you, I really do, but when you are near I feel the need to retreat, push you away, scream, yell as it feels you intend to do me harm."

"But I would never do such a thing," said Erich shocked at the very idea of it. The idea of raising a hand against his family repulsive in the extreme.

"I know that you would never hurt me or anyone else who was a loyal servant of the Emperor, but I still feel it all the same." Erich rested his head on his hand as he let the information sink in. He would be an outcast, a pariah to everyone he met. He cast his gaze to the supposed limiter on his wrist.

"Mother, is the limiter broken or why do people still fear to be around me?"

"It is not broken, it just as its name implies limits your unique gift." Erich brought his arm up so that the silver bracelet was level with his face, pulling his sleeve back to reveal it.

"If I were to take it off, what would be the consequence of that?" A look almost like horror seemed to spread across the baronesses face.

"You mustn't ever take it off! If you were to to that all psychic activity within a five mile radius would cease to function. The feeling of unease and resentment towards you would intensify to a degree where if you so much as coughed near someone it could cause them to try and kill you," Helena was leaning forward in her chair trying to drive home the seriousness of the matter.

Erich began turning it slowly around his wrist as if it would spin free or be absorbed into himself if he did it long enough. He did it in an almost bored fashion.

"If I can not serve in the Korps, and I cannot work with other citizens of the Imperium, it almost sounds like I am useless. If my life is to be without purpose and I cannot redeem through service in the Korps than I will simply present myself to the inquisition and join their ranks. If what you've said is true and what I've been taught is true than I would be far more useful as a shield against the creatures of the warp than to hide beneath Kriegs skin."

"You mustn't go to the inquisition it would ruin everything!" exclaimed Helena rising from her chair, nearly knocking back her hovering handmaiden with her quick ascent, but knocking down the bottle of amnesiac to be drunk thirstily by the beige carpet before what was left was salvaged by the silver haired servant. "I have spent too long on you to simply have it thrown away by some errant decision of yours!"

"Mother if I cannot join the Korps than to the Inquisition I will go. I do not care what plans you have for me I will not sit idly by and be a leech on the underside of the Imperium. They will know what I am there and be able to properly deal with me. They will understand me, accept me, I will have a place in this universe. I know that even now an inquisitor resides somewhere in this estate. I will go present myself to him and ask for forgiveness for not doing so earlier. All this training I have done, all of my learning will finally be put to use. I am sorry if my decision displeases you, but it is mine to make," said Erich rising from his chair and buckling on his powersword. It was the last gift he had received from his father, the last time he had spoken to him, the last time he had seen him alive. It was a marvel of Imperial craftsmanship, made by the fabricator general himself in the holy forges of mars itself. Yet, it was like a toy compared to Gottandammerung that was even now held in the family vaults awaiting a time for a member of the Von Shreider family to have need of it. Erich would have need of it, but it was meant to be wielded by a member of the Death Korps, not a member of an inquisitors retinue. It was meant for open battle in the hand of an armoured soldier fighting the innumerable enemies of the Imperium. For a warrior, not a spy or a thug who clung to the shadows like a thief in the night.

"Erich stop, I need to explain this in greater detail. You still do not understand the significance of this."

"There is no more need for words and I understand perfectly well," said Erich heading for the door. "I had planned to serve in the Korps, but it seems that my limiter is insufficient for me to do so. This being the case, I will serve in any way I can. I will find atonement one way or another."

"I can get you a better limiter, one that you can use in the Korps," said Helena having run out of options. Erich stopped short of the door, his hand still reaching for the handle.

"You can do that?" questioned Erich mistrustful of the late declaration.

"Yes I can. Not immediately of course, but within a matter of weeks I can get you a limiter that should be sufficiently powerful to make it so as long as there is no direct skin on skin contact you will not be reviled. There will still be a sense of unease around you that will exist no matter what, but it will allow you to interact on a reasonable level with other people."

"I could, be normal?" asked Erich unable to keep the hope from showing through in his voice.

"No," said Helena shaking her head regretfully. "But you will be able to serve in the guard. I am sorry, but this is the best I can do."

"Is there no way to remove this...taint permanently then?"

"The only way would be to expose you to enough warp energy to burn out your untouchable quality, but it is a part of you. Removing it all at once could kill you from the strain, not to mention the long term exposure would more than likely corrupt you or cause a calamity. A slow exposure on the level necessary to remove it would be noticed by the inquisition and we would more than likely killed for dabbling with the warp. Assuming that we could even generate the power to do it. You are simply too powerful for us to do it safely. Assuming it is even safe to do so. As I have said, it is an integral part of your being. Removing it could be, traumatic."

Erich studied his hands turning them over and flexing them as if his own body had betrayed him and if he could find the source of it then remove it he would be fine.

"But I will be able to serve?" he asked as if cementing the fact he could join the Korps needing to hear it again to make sure he hadn't just imagined it.

"Yes you will serve Erich." He nodded as if in approval.

"Then that is what I will do," said Erich almost like a vow.

"I think that we have talked enough on this for today Erich. I feel weary from all this talk and I think I may just go and lay down for a while. Why don't you go and find that little maid of yours? I'm sure that she must have gotten lost by now."

"Yes I will go and find her, I bid you goodbye mother." Erich left the room and headed off in search of Elisha leaving his mother and her handmaiden alone in the room.

"Maiden," said Helena after seeing that her son had departed.

"Yes your ladyship?"

"What was discussed in this room will remain confidential and it will be a secret that you will take to your grave, am I understood?"

"Yes baroness I know my place, I will not repeat anything I have heard within these walls."

"That is good, because if you even thought of saying anything," said Helena looking over her shoulder back at her servant. "You would never stop screaming. Now clean up that mess on the carpet and wake me in four hours for dinner." The baroness departed the room leaving a very scared handmaiden to clean up her mess.

Elisha had been creating a rut down a deserted hallway some way from Von Shreider room blowing off some steam from the baronesses words. Erich had noticed her anger and concocted the fake task for her to be able to leave the room as to avoid an incident. He seemed to be able to pick up on when to do something to avoid a scene, but sarcasm still seemed to fly right over top of his head.

How dare she say that I only stay around him for his status! Thought Elisha angrily. She had raised Erich, not her. She had been the one to encourage him when he was pushed to his limits, not her. She had been there when he had been left alone most days, not her. She had been there for him when he needed someone to simply show they cared, not her. She was the one who loved him, not her. The last thought caused Elisha to stop in her tracks for a moment. She really didn't know if the baroness did love her children, but it certainly didn't seem like it. She had more than enough free time to go and see them, write to them, something but she never did.

Maybe she just wasn't capable of expressing it, being from Krieg. She was certainly jealous enough of the affection that Erich showed her so maybe she did, but just didn't know how to show it. Come to think of it, the little half smile was the closest she had seen the baroness even get to a smile. But even that had seemed malicious in nature. Elisha checked her wrist chronometer. She had been out of the room for over ten minutes and if she didn't get back quickly enough the baroness would probably be snide or just a plain bitch to her again. Then again being late probably wouldn't change that.

Elisha cast her gaze over the hallway that she had been trying to make a trench out of by walking up and down for the past while. It had a golden rug covering the length of it and a white waxed marble flooring. The stonework on the wall was decorated with Imperial symbols and statues decorated the length of it in small crevices in the wall that they called home. It was another extravagant display of wealth, with what seemed like gold plated trim boards running the length of every wall. If she ever had to go back to Paladonia and her old life, she would probably be bored by the simple wooden decor common to her home planet. Paladonia.

Elisha let her mind drift back to her earlier years and her childhood. The long open pastures a deep green that herds of horses would run free through for most of their lives. The young foals and colts with their mothers, the newborns on shaky legs. The smell of leather and horse ingrained so heavily into the people that it might as well of been the smell of sweat. The feeling of galloping, of riding under Paladonias open blue skies and endless fields of grass bringing a wave of nostalgia over her. She had loved riding, loved Paladonia and the union between the horse and rider. Every horse having its own quirks and behaviours, and the bond that eventually formed was just so precious. For a moment she wasn't on Krieg, but back on the open steppes of the eastern grasslands riding to her hearts content, feeling every twitch, every movement of the horse beneath her. Just as quickly though the feeling was gone and she was back in the hallway filled with recycled air from hidden vents keeping them all alive.

Maybe she could get Erich to let her go riding sometime on one of the horses in the stables. She swatted the idea away like an annoying fly. The horses on Krieg weren't natural. They were beasts genetically engineered to survive in the harshest of environments, lungs that pollution couldn't harm, blood that wouldn't shrivel and die from radiation. More machine than an actual animal. They just stared blankly with dead eyes. No quirks, no personalities, no bond, just a form of renewable transportation. Oh how she longed to be under wide open blue skies again with a Paladonian sired steed beneath her. Not some death rider monstrosity.

"Excuse me miss I was on my way to the bathroom and I got lost, could you point me in the right direction?" Elisha pushed down the rush of irritation she felt at being pulled from her fantasies and put on the trademark humble demeanour of a servant.

"I'm sorry, but I am not a servant of this household. I am a servant of the Von Shreider family and we are just visiting the governors palace briefly. If you return to one of the main hallways than you should be able to find someone who can direct you to a washroom," said Elisha basically telling the man that no she couldn't take him to the bathroom and politely frak off because it wasn't her problem.

He was an average sized man, but he was anything but dressed average. He wore a long brown duster coat that fell below his knees with faded leather boots that went up into the duster, with spurs on them like a Paladonian dragoon would wear. He wore a wide brimmed brown hat that was pulled low over his face and only the barest traces of tinted specs could be seen on his face. From what she could see of his skin, he was tanned and slightly weather worn like the herd tenders on the Paladonian steppes. Long black hair fell over his shoulders from under his hat and he was smoking an Iho stick that smoke drifted lazily from into the air from.

"You know, you do have really pretty hair you know? It's a nice colour, but not entirely natural to you though is it?"

"Excuse me?" asked Elisha stunned that this man would have the indecency to comment of her like he was sizing her up. The man sauntered up to her, spurs jangling as he took long sure strides towards her.

"A gene treatment right? I can see that there are a few small scars beneath your hair on your scalp. Guess it was too much trouble to simply make you dye it right?" Elisha self consciously touched the near invisible scars hidden beneath her hair.

"I don't know who you are sir, but it is improper to talk to a lady so, even if they are a servant. I would kindly ask that you refrain from making any comments of that sort in the future," said Elisha as politely as she could manage, but her patience and tolerance for the man running very thin.

"Don't get your panties all up in a bunch miss priss, it's not like I asked to squeeze your tits or anything though they are quite nice if I do say so myself," said the man staring appreciatively. Elisha was beyond stunned, her mouth forming a small O of disbelief at what the man had said. That he had dared to even say it. Had he no manners, or even a shred of decency? Her face began to colour out of a mixture of embarrassment and rage, her mind still too stunned at his audacity to make any coherent action. Though she eventually found her voice.

"You cur, you would dare say that to a lady? Were you raised in a stable or are you just a brigand with no respect or decency?"

"My those are some pretty mean words, I think that you hurt my one and only feeling," said the man bringing his hands to his heart in a mock gesture of hurt. "Have you spent so much time waiting on these pampered inbreds that you've forgotten how to curse? What I said would pass for a friendly greeting in most other places in the galaxy, I even gave you a compliment didn't I? You're even blushing for me too, how sweet."

"You, you," sputtered Elisha unable to put a retort together in her outrage.

"Then again, I've always been partial to hair myself," said the man grabbing some of Elishas hair and letting the silver tresses slide between his fingers. "Don't know why, but I like the more exotic colours and it's so long how do you manage it?" said the man in a conversational tone. That finally pushed Elisha over the edge. She had been forced to relinquish most of her dignity, pride, freedom, how she dressed, her manner of speech, how she walked, ate, entered a room, sat, stood, but the one thing she would not relinquish was her hair.

"You frakking bastard!" snarled Elisha as she put all the power she could behind a punch that took the man below the eye knocking his shades free and causing him to stagger back letting the golden tresses fall back into place. "Listen up you little shit, you've insulted me, embarrassed me, and really frakking pissed me off. No one touches my hair hear me? No one. It's the one thing I have that's mine and no one elses'. You try and touch it again, or any part of me again, or even think of talking like some drunk bar lecher to me and I'll knock your crooked teeth in. How's that sound Mr. Horse Frakker?" To her surprise the man actually laughed, long and loud throwing his head back while he did so. Eventually he turned his head down wiping tears from his eyes before answering.

"Now there's some spunk, I thought there might be some backbone in there, and the cussing too," he said appreciatively. "Horse frakker? That's inventive, I think that I might even use that myself sometime. Then again, it's been my experience that blondes are a bit more feisty than other women usually. Also usually better in bed, though that's harder to check and I fear almost impossible in your case. Almost," said the man as if he could actually entice her into his bed.

"I didn't do this for your amusement, you off world piece of shi- wait. How did you know that I used to be a blonde?" asked Elisha perplexed.

"Well I was curious so I decided to check," said the man as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Elisha glanced back at her hair wondering how he had known that it had once been the colour of grain instead of the metallic sheen it was now. She let out a startled noise as her eyes fell on a streak of blonde hair, boxed in on either side by silver. Hair the colour of new grain. She took it in her hands and inspected in like a vendor does silk, to see if it is indeed the correct quality and there are no flaws.

"How, how did you do that?" asked Elisha looking at her natural hair for the first time in nine years. She cast her eyes up and took a startled half step back as the man was directly in front of her and far too close for comfort. She could smell him at this distance, like a dusty arid trail mixed with old leather, horse sweat and something else. Something that she couldn't quite place, an almost metallic smell, but organic at the same time. Then she looked into his eyes and her blood froze in her veins. Without his tinted ocular specs, his eyes were revealed. A blood red that seemed to glimmer and swirl like they were made of a fiery liquid, actually glowing a faint red. Born from an unnatural internal light. They were hypnotic, but in their depths it seemed that madness dwelled as if they were an ocean of insanity that you only had to look once into before you were hopelessly trapped. Like the waves of depravity would crash over you as they drew you in promising you the world as you drowned and then they crushed you claiming your soul.

Elisha tore her eyes away and looking at the ground beat a hasty retreat backwards, only to run into something soft yet hard at the same time. She turned around and he was there he was, staring at her like a predator eyeing his next meal.

"It's rude to leave when someone is talking to you Elisha, and here you are the one lecturing me on manners. Tsk tsk, and you called me uncultured," scolded the man, if that was what he was, in a mocking tone of voice.

"How do you know my name? What are you?" asked Elisha her heart hammering so hard in her chest it seemed deafening in her ears, seeming to beat so loudly that everyone in the entire palace could hear it.

"You have a strong heart you know? It has a nice beat to it, that's good means that your healthy and strong. Should live for a good long time if you look after yourself and seeing as how you still have your curves under that dress it shouldn't be a problem."

"G-get away from me daemon!" said Elisha trying to sound firm, but her voice wavering slightly.

"Now now daemonhost is the proper term to use. I wouldn't want to be a regular daemon, too many mouths and tentacles for my liking. I like the more human form, makes me nostalgic. And what's this now? Your voice is shaky, what happened to the spunky little maid who accused me of bestiality a moment ago?" Elisha couldn't speak, couldn't turn and run, but she had the presence of mind to scream so she did. Or at least she tried to.

She drew the air into her lungs, but before she could let it out a hand cold like that of a corpse, with fingers that ended in what looked like fearfully sharp claws clamped over her mouth killing the scream in conception. The claws pressing lightly into the flesh of her cheek.

"Now why would you scream?" asked the daemon good naturedly. "If you did that I would have to rip out your pretty little throat and you wouldn't want that would you?" The daemon turned her head left to right in an exaggerated gesture of no. "You want to keep living right?" The daemon bobbed Elishas head up and down like an adviser for a governor. "So I'm going to let you go now, and you're not going to scream okay? If you do that, I get to see if my claws are still sharp. Ready? One, two and you're free," said the daemon removing his hand like it was all just a big game, showing manic glee in his actions. Elisha just stood there like a startled rabbit, drawing in sharp short breaths and cold sweat beginning to bead her features.

"You know I wasn't being disrespectful intentionally, I was just bored so I decided to go wandering and you didn't seem to be too busy walking a rut into the hallway so I came for a chat. Then you had to hit me and it all snowballed from there. You see I'm with Inquisitor Charles and he's not the best conversationalist. Quite smart for an old bastard, but he can be so dull at times to be around. Not at all the best of company or the most appealing. Oh I'm being rude again aren't I?" said the daemon, a look of light bashfulness striking his features as he smiled apologetically, revealing teeth more like fangs filed to needle points.

"Here I looked into your mind to find your name and then I get into a conversation with you without first telling you my name. My name is Phear, bound daemon and all around scoundrel, but loved by the ladies. So I'm free pretty much all day, anything you want to talk about?" asked the daemon as if Elisha was his friend and he was genuinely interested in her well being, and all her minor hurts or secrets.

"Please don't kill me," said Elisha trembling slightly.

"Yes I know, why do people always say that? It's always spare my family this, or you killed my father that. It just gets so dull some times when people just ask for the same things over and over and over. Sometimes I just rip out their heart before they have a chance to say it, because it just annoys me so and then if they do say it I have to sit there while they prattle on about how I'm evil and they're good so they'll triumph and it will rain puppies and lolly pops or some shit like that, said Phear in a mocking way as if to say that it was just utterly ridiculous that he had to put up with it. "So I usually end up killing the talkative ones immediately, but you I like. You just sit there looking pretty and listen while I talk just like a good joy girl would after a lay, but without the benefit of being paid," said Phear as though it was a compliment holding Elishas hair in his hand and letting it flow between his clawed fingers, turning a golden colour as it passed through. The silver disappearing as though washed away like dirt from her hair and it finally coming clean.

"Oh it seems that I pressed a little too hard," said Phear as a little bead of blood formed on Elishas cheek where his claws had previously been. He reached forward and daintily picked it off her face with a clawed finger and brought it to his mouth where a far too long of a tongue emerged and sampled it as if it was fine wine.

"See I knew that you were healthy," he said almost triumphantly. "And you taste so good, just the right amount of minerals and nutrients. I knew that you looked after yourself."

"Please let me go I won't say anything I swear," said Elisha pleading wanting to run, but a part of her knowing she wouldn't make it. Phear let out a disappointed sigh.

"See that's another thing that they all say that irritates me so much, it just makes me want to tear them to pieces." He, if it could be called a he, brought his hand to her breast to better feel her overstressed heart. "Do you think I could take your heart out fast enough for you to see it beating before you died?" he asked squeezing his hand lightly around her breast. "I've done it before and I've heard that-oh and you've fainted," declared Phear as Elisha did what anyone terrified beyond belief would do, her brain shutting down to avoid dealing with the traumatic experience. She fell backwards like a felled column, but a gloved hand caught her and lowered her to the ground, blonde locks forming a blanket for her on the golden carpet, her hair defined by the blue silk ribbon tied in to keep it together.

"Well that's a downer, but I guess it's to be expected. Looks I was right though, they were nice," said Phear appreciatively flexing his hand. "Well maybe next time little birdie we'll have time to play," he said as he felt the seal binding his soul to Charles begin to warm on his chest, signalling that he was wanted. "Always wanting me when I'm in the middle of making a new friend," he said almost regretfully. He could ignore the call if he felt like feeling as though a molten metal bar was being forced through his chest and burning him alive, in agony that couldn't even be imagined. "Oh well until next time," he said waving cheerfully to the unconscious Elisha as he departed.

Elisha was floating on a soft cloud of hazy dream stuff, half aware of what was going on around her yet still asleep. It was a semi lucid state neither asleep nor awake, drifting between the two as a patron at a restaurant struggles to pick their dessert from a large selection, each looking equally as good. Finally though her body made a decision and she fell into a deep sleep. She would have remained this way much longer if not for a rude house guard deciding that a servant asleep in the middle of the hallway breached safety protocols dictating her a fire hazard, that and nobles tended to frown on people sleeping in the hallways. Unless of course it was them after having had too much to drink at one of their lavish parties, which on Krieg were admittedly rare unless hosted for off-world clientele.

"Miss, you are blocking the main thoroughfare of the hallway, I am going to have to ask you to move." He got a light sleep moan as response as people asleep are tend to make. He nudged Elisha with his boot lightly in the side causing her to swat at his foot. "Ma'am you do need to wake up," said the house guard nudging Elisha over with his boot so she rolled slightly.

She woke with a start, eyes darting around the hallway as if desperately searching for something.

"Where am I? Why am I on the ground?" She asked the questions in quick succession still groggy from sleep, more speaking to herself than expecting an actual answer, but like all good Kriegers the house guard took the questions literally and answered her in short order.

"You are in the western quarter of the governors palace in the subsidiary hallway leading to the sanitation and cleaning rooms. As to why you passed out on the ground, I can only assume it is from your heavy clothing and the broken climate controls in this sector of the palace." It was indeed hot, almost uncomfortably so, especially in the heavy dress of a Von Shreider maid. A light sheen of sweat shone of her forehead and spread across the back of her neck.

"Oh, um, thank you," said Elisha politely to the far too literal guard. He was dressed in the standard Death Korps Uniform, but with a predominate colour scheme of red and gold.

"Do you have any idea miss, why you ended up on the floor at all?"

"No, I don't," said Elisha her memory fuzzy and faded leading up to her encounter with the house guard. The last she remembered was that she had been pacing the hallway thinking of Paladonia.

"Can you find your way out of here on your own?" questioned the house guard having strayed from his patrol route to wake her and eager to return to it.

"Yes, I can, thank you for your concern, but I should be fine from here on."

"Very well miss have a good day," said the houseguard departing and leaving her alone again. Elisha checked her wrist chronometer and to her shock found that she had been absent for over half an hour. She took off at a quick walking pace, passing more statues and devotional icons causing her to stop and make the sign of the aquilla several times. She wasn't an overly pious person, but it helped to have the Emperor looking favourably on you.

She rounded one of the many sharp corners meant to aid in the defence of the palace, much like how the Von Shreider estate had been and nearly ran into Erich.

"Excuse me," he said trying to make his way around her. Elisha smiled thinking that Erich was trying to play a prank on her.

"Erich, where do you think you're going? Am I not supposed to accompany you wherever you go? I am your personal servant after all." Erich stopped dead in his tracks, in a posture of what could only be described as a stance of pure surprise.

"Elisha?" he said in an unbelieving tone.

"Last time I checked, that was my name or did it change when I wasn't looking?" asked Elisha coyly.

"What did you do?"

"Well after your mothers comment I went and blew off some steam. Wandered around for a little bit, had a nap and I must say, thank you for getting me out of there. Who knows what I would have done if I had been forced to remain in there with that, your mother," corrected Elisha biting off the harsher adjective she wished to use.

"Your hair," said Erich sounding dumbstruck.

"I know, I know," said Elisha in a placating manner. "It's a little messed up right now, but I should be able to fix it without too much of a problem once I get back to my room."

"I should hope so, if mother were to see it like this she would be most upset. I hope you can get it back to its proper colour shortly." A puzzled look found a home on Elishas face.

"What do you mean proper colour?" Instead of answering her, Erich turned her so she was facing a mirror in one of the alcoves scattered throughout the palace. Everything looked fine, her dress was still clean despite her time on the floor. Her shoes were unscuffed, her hair...Elisha did a double take on her hair. It was blonde again. After nine years, it was its natural colour again. She pulled her long mane of hair from behind her and inspected it. The mirror wasn't lying, it was its natural colour again. Like new grain the blonde hair stared back at her. The baroness was going to be pissed.

"If mother sees your hair like this, she'll take it as an act of defiance against the family. Possibly banish you for it," said Erich gravely.

"But it's only hair, I didn't do anything," protested Elisha.

"Then why did you change it?"

"I didn't do anything to it!" said Elisha hotly. "I was walking in the hallway, got overheated and fainted, then I run into you and find out my hair has somehow gone back to how it was before I became a servant."

"Elisha I know that my mother made you angry, but this is going too far. How long until the dye comes out?"

"It's not dye for thrones sake, I already told you I don't know how this happened."

"You expect me to believe that?" questioned Erich.

"It's the truth, have I ever lied to you even once?" demanded Elisha drawing herself as tall as she could, hands on hips. Even still, she had to look up to talk to him.

"No," admitted Erich.

"Then believe me when I say that I don't know how this happened, I couldn't do something like this even if I wanted to." A thought seemed to cross Elishas mind and she went back to the mirror lifting her bangs and looking at the scalp underneath.

"The gene treatment scars, they're gone," said Elisha in amazement. "Like it never even happened." Elisha let out a cheerful laugh. "This is great, it's finally mine again! Not the baronesses, not Kriegs, I finally have something that is completely mine again!" Elisha let out another happy giggle. "This is great," she declared doing a small twirl to see her hair follow her like a golden stream in the mirror.

"But we have to change it back, or else you'll get in severe trouble," warned Erich. "You're still a servant of the Von Shreiders and tradition demands that it be silver in colour," said Erich sternly.

"But I don't want to change it back I like how it is," pouted Elisha holding her hair protectively in her arms and nearly glaring at Erich. Holding her hair like it was a newborn baby that needed to be protected.

"You serve the family, and family law states that any servant who is bonded in service to the Von Shreider family must undertake the gene treatment as a show of loyalty and dedication," finished Erich quoting the family codex. Elisha seemed upset at the news, a frown presenting itself before giving way to a mischievous smile.

"But I don't serve the Von Shreider family, I serve you Erich," said Elisha a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And as your personal servant, you can request anything that you like of me. If you wanted me to, oh I don't know, change my hair to a more pleasing colour, than I would have no other choice, but to submit, and humbly do as you ask. After all, as long as it was you who requested it than it would be perfectly fine and legal by all the family laws," said Elisha advancing a far too bright of smile on her face, her hazel eyes practically twinkling.

"No absolutely not," protested Erich. The smile never left Elishas face.

"So with the idea of making Elisha more easily recognizable and not to be confused with another servant, I had her dye her hair until a gene treatment could be made available," said Erich in his mothers bedchambers explaining the rapid change in appearance on Elishas part.

"I...see, so this was all your idea Erich? You didn't have anyone influencing you?" she said casting her gaze towards Elisha whose head was bowed in a servile manner, hands clasped together in the perfect picture of humble servitude. It chafed at the baroness to no end to see her pretend to be so servile, while at the same time showing the utmost disrespect to family traditions.

"No mother, this entirely my doing," said Erich forcing out the words as his Krieg upbringing practically screamed at him to tell the truth. "I thought that it would be more productive to have her marked as different," said Erich his inner voice refusing to quiet down.

"Well this is a more unusual action, but I suppose she is yours and it is up to your discretion. But tell me, what made you decide to make this change and back to her natural hair colour no less? I am oh so eager to hear the reasons behind this."

"It just came to me, it seemed like the right colour at least and very easy to recognize her from a distance when I have need of her. I suppose that it was a bit more of an impulsive choice," finished Erich nervous that his mother would call him out on his bluff. Elisha had been very persuasive and when she had asked, he just couldn't say no. A part of him still wanted her and when she asked for something he just could not refuse her. His mother gave no sign of her thoughts, merely taking the information at face value neither applauding or condemning it.

"Yes, but with you joining the Korps it hardly seems prudent for you to mark her in such a way when she will undoubtedly need to assume other duties once you are gone. She will have to undergo the gene treatment again and from what I've heard the more mature the person the more painful the operation. Is that not right servant?" asked Helena to Elisha, not deigning to look at her.

"It is a trial my lady, but in duty such things are but stepping stones," parroted Elisha from her teachings, but secretly remembering the procedure in vivid detail. They didn't give you painkillers for it, so you felt every single detail of the procedure. The pain was intense to say the least like pouring burning ice into your skull and feeling it spread to every part of your body. The paradox was the best was to describe it, the pain that is. It seemed to chill you to your core even as you felt it burn to your very soul.

"One I am afraid that you will have to repeat in a few weeks time, assuming that you are still willing to go through with the treatment to make this," said the Baroness finally looking at Elisha and gesturing to her hair. "Permanent. It would seem most cruel Erich, to force her to go through such a painful procedure, only to go through it again in a few weeks time. It could even result in permanent damage. The gene treatments would reject each other, causing a multitude of problems and in some of the more severe cases, death. So I would implore you son, take back this foolish thought before it does more harm than you had intended."

"But mother that is only assuming that I return her to the family in which I have no intention of doing. She has served me faithfully for many years and there is no one I trust more to do the tasks I need done. She has my utter confidence and as the family law states. When a lord must leave their dwelling, in such a manner that the bound servant is not able to come, then they are to wait for their leading lord to return, only carrying out the last instructions of their bound lord."

Elisha bowed her head just a little farther down, to hide her smile. With those words, Erich had just said that if she chose to, she would not have to listen to the baroness at all since she would only have to answer to Erich. It was the closest to freedom that she was ever going to get and she relished how it would irritate the baroness so. Her smile disappeared a moment later though. She had missed the part of the conversation where Erich had convinced his mother to let him into the Korps meaning that she would be alone on Krieg. Senior officers of the Korps were allowed to bring bound servants, but no one started out as an officer. She did not relish spending the next nearly twenty years with the baroness while Erich rose through the ranks... if he survived. That last thought chased away the last of her good mood. He could die in the Korps and oh so easily. Her little Erich.

"But with you gone she technically would be outside of the family structure meaning that she wouldn't have to listen to anyone," said the baroness, it dawning of her that there would be someone in her domain in which she would have no control over.

"I'm sure that she would help out if you asked her politely," said Erich. A giggle escaped from Elisha which she hastily covered up as a cough receiving a deadly glare from the baroness in the process.

"I'm sure that she would," said the Baroness in a tone that made it clear she would rather be a servant herself than ever speak to Elisha as an equal and ask for her help.

"So it is settled than," said Erich. "And if I am not mistaken it is time for dinner is it not?"

"Yes I believe it is," answered Helena giving her glass to her ever present handmaiden, as she rose to leave. "Please lead the way son."

The dinner was nothing spectacular by noble standards, but an absolute feast to anyone else having such delicacies as real meat and natural vegetables. The governor was an old friend of the late Hans Von Shreider and was the youngest male of his family, exempted from duty in the Korps for he had had no sisters. He was a soft spoken man, but had a silver tongue or so Erichs father had said. He had shown good grace in giving the Von Shreiders sanctuary in his palace, giving them the best guest rooms he had for their use. Erich ate quickly and left, citing that he needed to prepare, leaving Elisha behind to finish as her new privileges allowed her to eat with the family if wearing appropriate finery. The Baronesses handmaidens had the same privilege, but as to date they had never been allowed. The baroness ate sullenly, picking at her meal, while Elisha was having a field day with hers completely ignoring the baronesses discomfort and finally eating the food she had had a look but don't touch policy with.

With recent developments, she was a servant in name only and it felt good. Then the governors other guests arrived.

A bald man with a long scar across the back of his head, wearing a simple dark leather coat and evening finery entered the room, followed closely by a man wearing a long brown duster and wide brimmed hat. He wore riding boots with spurs that jangled as he walked, more dressed for travelling long distances on horseback than for an evening meal. He took a seat next to Elisha as a servant practically stepping on his heels set his food down as soon as he had seated himself.

He smelled faintly of leather and horse sweat and it brought forth memories of Paladonia in her and the wide open steppes and clear blue skies. His face was weathered and he wore dark ocular specs the same colour as his black hair, which was revealed to be full as he removed his large hat setting it at his side. The hair looked as if an attempt had been made to comb it, but had given up declaring the task futile. He looked quite nice to Elisha and then he removed his shades, a pale blue like the skies above Paladonia.

"You have pretty hair," he spoke out suddenly to her.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh I'm being rude, it's just that I haven't been in the company of a beautiful woman in a long time and then the Emperor gives me a saint to sit beside." He spoke in a light drawl that reminded Elisha of the eastern grox farmers and she turned to him, her food forgotten.

"You speak quite freely to a woman that you've just met, and quite boldly too." He gave her an honest smile that made her heart flutter.

"I'm sorry if I was rude ma'am, just that being in the presence of a noble lady such as yourself makes me forget myself. I've never been good at talking to people of status and I always seem to just blurt out whatever's on my mind at the time. I didn't mean to offend you at all milady." Elisha let out a small giggle.

"Well I thank you for the compliment, but I am just a servant of the Von Shreider family and I still didn't catch your name, Mr.?"

"Gunn, James Gunn."

"Well Mr. Gunn I am Elisha and it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine miss," said Gunn doing his best to bow while sitting down causing Elisha to giggle again.

Elisha sat with James for the rest of the meal, her food forgotten and him barely touching his. They talked and laughed, shared stories and tales of where they had grown up and on which planet. Elisha found out that he was a chastenor working for Inquisitor Charles and he regaled her with stories of his exploits, full of dashing heroes and terrible creatures overcome at the very last possible moment. When the meal had ended and the dishes were being cleared away, Elisha rose reluctant to go.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening James, I had a lot of fun."

"I should be the one thanking you Elisha, it was so dull around here. Everyone wearing masks and hardly talking. Where is the laughter, the joy, the love?"

"Well if you have a spare moment sometime, than you can seek me out and we can have all those things that the Kriegers seem to do without."

"Even the last one?" questioned James an enquiring look on his face. Elisha gave a coy smile flashing white teeth.

"Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps we could have all of those things."

"What made you change your hair colour by the way? You said that all servants had to have it a metallic silver."

"Well It's more of a recent change, quite unexpected actually."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it, it's finally mine again," said Elisha holding stroking her hair fondly. "It's the one thing I've wanted for so long and now I have it. It makes me feel so, I know it sounds corny, but happy."

"You're welcome."

A questioning look came over Elishas face. "For what?" James took her hand and gave it a soft kiss.

"For a wonderful evening that I hope we can repeat."

"I do too, come find me sometime later in the week and we can get better acquainted," said Elisha truly wanting to spend more time with James. The pain of Freya's death was still sharp, but she didn't want to end up an old maid. Or marry a regular Krieger. By the throne, there was no way that she was having eight kids.

"I would like that very much, I will see you another time," said James bidding Elisha farewell. He watched her leave the dining hall and a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, the whine of servos as the mechanical hand clutched around his shoulder. The augmetic hidden by fine white evening gloves and a leather coat.

"It is rude to use a dead mans charm to try and seduce a lady Phear," intoned a cultured yet heavy voice to whom the arm of metal and wire belonged.

"How many times do I have to tell you Charles? Gunn, Phear, we are the same. No one soul is dominant, we have a mutually beneficial partnership. Gunn gets to live out his dark fantasies with no fear of consequence and garner fame, while I get to sample the pleasures of the materium and get away from those oh ever so nasty beasties in the warp." The daemonhost turned to face the inquisitor to whom his soul was bound, his pale blue eyes giving way to swirling red pools of madness. "There isn't even a real difference between the two of us anymore Charles. Our souls are merging, not destroying or consuming the other. It really is a miracle, but alas, you will never believe us."

"The only words a daemon will ever speak is lies Phear and I will not be fooled by you or your treachery. You have consumed this mans soul and memories, reading from them like a book and quoting from them like scripture. Using them to pretend like he is still alive and functioning in there, but it is a lie just like everything else you say. He is dead and gone, consumed by your Emperor forsaken daemonic waste of a soul." The inquisitor said it spitefully, showing how much disgust he felt for the creature in his presence and the anger he felt at its lies.

"That really hurts Charles and here I thought we had gone above name calling in our partnership."

"You are my servant daemon, nothing more. Do not presume to be my equal or friend for you are neither," said Charles righteous fury in his hushed words. He had lost the very arm that its proxy now held Phear with, binding him. That battle was forever etched into his long memory as well as the absolute delight the creature of the warp had taken in the fight, felling over a dozen inquisitional storm troopers and militant sister Sororitas each, before his eventual defeat and subsequent servitude. Not to mention the wounded or losses of the local enforcers. He did not even look decayed or sickly as other daemon hosts did, instead preferring to keep his host body in the appearance of a healthy man in his prime.

"Oh that cuts deep Charles," said Phear bringing his hands to his chest where the bindings ended in a large inquisitorial I, hidden beneath his clothes and anchored in his chest in a mock show of hurt.

"Not as deep as I will cut if you do not shut your heathen mouth Phear." Phear put his gloved hands up in a position of mock surrender.

"I will be your silent, but faithful and brutal servant."

"I sincerely doubt the first part," grumbled Charles leaving the dining hall, Phear hot on his heels.

"Oh so you do see me as faithful? I told you we had a blossoming friendship Charles," said Phear jovially. "Perhaps we can even begin playing regicide together to while away our evening."

"Phear."

"Yes I know I know, silence is bliss." Charles walked down the hallway followed closely by his personal daemon. Both figuratively and very inescapably literally. Phears footsteps made his spurs jangle down the polished marble corridor, even though his feet never touched the ground.

"It is of the finest make Erich, the art kept secret and hidden amongst the finest artisans for many millennium. Few outside of their order know how to make one like it, I hope you realize how much trouble I went through to get this for you. Please try your best to stay alive, I am running out of children to send to the Korps." Erich was at the private tram station in the capital of Krieg known simply as Alpha Prime. It was lit by droning electro globes suspended from the ceiling by metal wires. The air was cold and damp, like that of a cellar the temperature hardly above freezing with so much heat lost through the constant recycling of air in the tunnels. It had the stale recycled taste of all air on Krieg, but went unnoticed by the majority of the people on the platform.

It was time for a change to occur in Erichs life. The Korps demanded an able body fit for war that was healthy and strong. Erich had such a body to give, one he would give gladly to the Emperor if it meant that he could have even the slimmest chance of revenge against the cowardly eldar. Despite his conviction though, he was afraid. Not only afraid that he would fail in his duty to the Emperor or the blood oath that he had sworn against the savage eldar. He was afraid of leaving his home, of leaving everything that was familiar and safe to him behind. He was afraid of not seeing his family again, they who had raised and sheltered him when he should have been thrown to the Inquisition. He was afraid of never seeing Elisha again.

Despite his words that he simply wanted things to go back to the way that they were, it simply wasn't true. He had wanted the happiness and joy to return yes, but he wanted it to be more than that. He wanted her so strongly, it was like a physical need inside of him demanding to be sated. He loved her. Not as she loved him though like a part of her family, but as the woman he wanted to be his own. Every smile, every laugh, every word made him just want her all the more. She was so close and yet so far, if only he could reach her, if only he wasn't some damn untouchable. Alas, he would not push her away by trying to pull her closer. Erich was cursed with a logical mind, knowing the appropriate thing to do that would end the best no matter what he wanted to do. He wanted Elisha, would have bartered his immortal soul to be with her, but his mind told him it would not be. That it could not be. It told him that he would only destroy the friendship that he had with his only and truest friend.

He was on the platform, greatcoat and light grey dress clothes worn over top of his environment suit. His powersword was buckled onto his belt, a status symbol as well a personal defence weapon. It was the style on Krieg for the nobility to wear finery over the protective suit to show some differentiation. For only the rich could afford to have to burn the fine clothes when they travelled to or near the surface to avoid contamination. His mother was there in simple dress, mask hanging down at the ready, the only other one in the shockingly dangerous state of dress was Elisha. Her long hair feeding down into her environment suit, a protective cowl leaving only her face exposed. She looked solemn and morose, sad to see her young lord depart, perhaps seeing him alive for the last time.

There were a scattering of servants and bodyguards around the platform, several new servants having been inducted into service as handmaidens for the baroness standing behind her heads bowed in subservience. The only one who really seemed to stand out was Captain 26 of the famed Krieg grenadiers. He seemed almost mournful that his men had died while he had fled with the Von Shreider family. He had sworn to protect them though, and a Krieger never went back on an oath. He was to take Erich to be recruited into the Korps and upon Erich signing his name on the dotted line would be free to fight and die as he saw fit in the Emperors name. Erich didn't know if the grenadier captain disliked him for having to leave his men die while he saw to Erich's safety, though he doubted it. A Krieger would follow an order no matter what without question, without doubt or fear. Erich wondered if he could live up to those hefty expectations. He didn't want to be a disappointment, Emperor anything but that.

"Remember son, there are variable settings for the device for how much it does," said the baroness showing a little more caution speaking about her sons abilities despite the fact that it was only servants who could hear her.

A look of sadness had come over Elisha when Erich had relayed the tale of his ability to her. She finally understood the reason for the scorn he had received and the feeling of unease around him. To know that it was a permanent thing, that would follow him wherever he went was a tragic thing. To know that he would most probably be alone for the rest of his life, only living to fight and die was a sad thing. He would be a Krieger in full and die a Krieger in full on the guns of blades of the enemies of the Imperium, there was no middle ground to be had.

"I understand mother, and I know full well how to use it," said Erich. The device was a bracelet of simple silver emblazoned with his families crest upon it. It looked nearly exactly the same as his old one, except that it was a little bulkier. "I will take it off under no circumstances."

"That is good," said the baroness, pausing for a moment as if considering whether or not to continue. "This is what you wish then? A life in the Korps is not an easy one, a life that has a fearfully short life expectancy. I know that you are angry over your fathers death, but you must consider what you are doing. This isn't some idle quest you are embarking on, the Death Korps is just as its name says. To the death, there is no ageing out, no retirement for old heroes. You will die in the Korps Erich, one way or another." The look on Helena's face was as close to concern as Erich or anyone else had ever seen before. She almost seemed to be pleading to him to stay. "It is still not too late to reconsider, simply leave with me. Stay with me and your brother to rebuild what was lost." Captain 26's head shifted almost imperceptibly towards Erich and his mother as the baroness asked him to walk away from his duty, walk away from the Korps.

"I am sorry mother, but I cannot do that," said Erich knowing that if he so much as took one step towards his mother he would leave and never again be able to even consider joining the Korps. "I am committed, there is no other way for me." The baroness sighed in defeat.

"Very well Erich, serve the Korps your father fought for so dearly the best you can, and if necessary may you find your atonement in his light. I bid you farewell my son, I hope that the next time I see you won't be as a number inscribed on the wall in the hall of the Korps." Baroness Helena Von Shreider turned sharply on her heel and left the tram platform, leaving only Erich, Elisha, and Captain 26 behind.

"Captain, may we have a moment of privacy please?" 26 didn't answer Elisha, merely walked to the far end of the platform, boots echoing his every step. Elisha walked up to Erich and embraced him in a hug. "I will miss you Erich, I hope you know that." Her voice sounded strained as if she was holding her emotions in check.

"I know, and I will miss you as well," said Erich wanting to show the same emotion, but finding he couldn't. Only rarely did a Krieger lose control of their emotions in their lives. For Erich it had only happened four times in his life. The most powerful and most recent was with the woman now in his arms that he didn't want to let go of. But even that was locked away inside of him now. He could tell her that if she agreed to marry him he would stay and she would agree, but to what end? She didn't love him the way he loved her and it would be an unhappy marriage for her, and he could not bear the thought of making her suffer a long life of grief instead of a short spasm when he died, for he surely would in the Korps. He would bear his hurt and sorrow inside of himself, do his best to keep Elisha free from it. He had hurt her once, never again while living would he do it again.

"Erich I have to tell you something," said Elisha sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

"Yes?" asked Erich, sounding calm, but nearly bursting with hope. Maybe she did feel for him as he did for her, maybe he still could be happy with her.

"Things are going to be tough in the Korps. They are going to give you a number, take away your name, freedom, your habits, the little things that make you you. They will try to strip you of even your individuality." Erich felt his hope shatter into a million pieces and scatter as if blown by the dead winds on Kriegs surface.

"I know this, it is duty that we do this."

"No Erich, you're not understanding what I'm saying. If you let them take away everything that you are then you become less than a man, less than human. Only a living piece of weaponry, mindless and obedient to do their will."

"I will still have my faith," said Erich trying to defend the Korps and their crushing discipline.

"Sometimes that isn't enough," said Elisha. "You need to find something precious to you and hold it so closely that it will never slip away, no matter what happens to you. They will try to take it from you, but you can't let them, you can't give in. Do you know why I grew my hair so long Erich? Why I gave myself so much more work to do everyday and need to spend so much more money on it? It's because it's the one thing that is truly mine that no one else can lay claim over. I protected it with every fibre of my being, because it was a piece of me. The real me, not the maid, not the servant, It was Elisha from Paladonia. Even then, it's only one of the things that I kept dear to me. Do you know where the other is?" asked Elisha her hazel eyes seeming to penetrate through his mask and into his untouchable soul.

"In a strong box?" asked Erich. Elisha smiled ruefully at him.

"No, it's in here," said Elisha tapping her head. "And here," she said tapping above her heart. "I remembered who I was, what I was. My name Erich, my name and where I came from was what kept me sane all these years and true to myself. You don't know how many nights I would lay there repeating to myself my name and the planet I was from. I was terrified that I would forget, and you know what? It nearly happened, I came so very close to forgetting my own name Erich. The name my mother gave me as I came into this world under the Emperors light. It was so terrifying, I can hardly even describe it. To lose yourself is the worst thing that can ever happen to you. It feels as though your very soul is slipping away, leaving you empty and hollow. No love, no warmth, no joy or sorrow, you become just a thing to do as it's told. I might have lost it still, if a certain little uptight boy hadn't kept pulling at my hand and calling me Elisha instead of caretaker Alpha six." She smiled sadly at the memory as if seeing the one pearl in a black ocean. "Erich when all seems lost and you feel like your hope has deserted you, remember who you are. In the end it will save you." She wiped at her eyes yet again, more forcefully.

"No matter what happens, remember who you are and it will give you strength. Remember that everyone is a person, an individual. They aren't nameless drones, they are people with things that they love and hate. They have things that they are good at or bad at, there are little quirks and ideas that make everyone different." Elisha drew a shuddering breath. "I don't want to lose my little Erich."

"I...you won't lose me Elisha, I will survive the Korps to see you again, I swear it." He tried to put all his emotion and love for her into his words, but found it hardly went above his usual hard edged tone of Krieg nobility. His words always sounded like those of a strict scholam instructor giving a lecture.

"Erich there is a difference between surviving and living." said Elisha sniffling occasionally, but her tone firm as she said it like steel was implanted into her words like in the armour of a Russ to make it stronger.

"If there is then I don't understand it, if I survive then I am alive, so I am living. What is the difference between the two?" questioned Erich truly curious.

"It's something that I'm going to let you figure out for yourself," said Elisha detaching herself from Erich. "It will have more meaning if you figure it out for yourself, rather than me just tell it to you."

"And If I do not figure it out?" asked Erich. Elisha smiled and let out a short chuckle.

"Then I'll tell you when you come back."

"But there is a chance that I won't come back, why don't you tell me now so that I do know the difference? How do you know that I will make it back?" asked Erich wanting to know the meaning of her words in case he couldn't decipher them on his own. Elisha never stopped smiling.

"I know, because you gave me your word that you would make it back and a Krieger never goes back on their oath right?"

"Only when there is a more important one to upkeep," intoned Erich sagely.

"Is there a more important one?"

"No, I can think of no other," said Erich after a moments hesitation. The platform began to swell with noise and vibrate slightly as the approaching tram announced its impending arrival with a loud roar and screech of metal on metal. It was soon too loud to talk and the yellow lit windows of the armoured tram began to rush past, brakes screeching to a halt. Elisha reached up and grasped Erichs mask and he grabbed her hands to stop her from undoing it.

Down here, especially with the tram, it was far too dangerous to even consider breaking a single seal, let alone removing the full mask. He could breath in pollutants, too much of even a non lethal gas in correct quantities would give him brain damage or kill him nearly instantaneously. He worried for Elisha, not having her mask on in a place like this, but if his mother had done it then it must be safe enough.

"Do you trust me?" asked Elisha when the tram had slowed enough for them to be heard over the screeching brakes and sound echoing in the enclosed tunnel. Erich hesitantly took his hands away from his mask, then with a click and a light hiss it came free.

Elisha reached around to the back of her neck and unclasped a necklace handing it to Erich. It was an aquilla like countless others he had seen, but it was highly detailed, yet the each foot and wing ended in a single point. It seemed to be made of a very hard dense metal, but at the same time was extremely light. It was a bright brass colour and Erich could almost feel the acquired warmth of the metal from his glove. A faint glow seemed to emanate from the necklace in the half light of the tram station, flashing when the light from the tram hit it as it passed.

"My mother gave this to me, before I... left Paladonia. It has six points on it, two for the wings, two for the feet, and two for the heads. It represents a horse and rider and the inseparable bond they have together. I want you to have it now. I want you to know that no matter what happens I will be there for you, if not in body then in spirit." The tram came to a final stop and the brakes hissed as the air was released from them. The doors slid open with a hydraulic whirr and clanged as they opened fully.

"I don't know what to say," said Erich his voice finally showing his awe at being given something so precious. It couldn't have been worth more than a high denomination crown piece, but it had value beyond monetary means.

"Then don't say anything, sometimes things like this don't need words," said Elisha, as Captain 26 began to walk over towards them. Erich was nervous, he might never see her again and he wanted to do something. He leaned in and put a chaste kiss on her forehead, any more and he would have never been able to stop himself.

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind when I said sometimes words aren't needed," said Elisha slightly surprised. Erich backpedalled, fearing that he had gone to far.

"If I offended you, I can assure you that I didn't mean-"

"It's fine Erich," said Elisha putting to rest his fears and anxiety.

"My lord we must get going now, we cannot keep the tram waiting." Captain 26 had reached them and was waiting patiently for Erich to get onto the train. Erich hurriedly put on the necklace and donned his mask.

"Just give a moment more captain," said Erich not quite yet wanting to leave, the anticipation of the change gnawing at him, wishing to remain in the limbo of the train station a little while longer.

"I am sorry lord, but the the tram will not wait. We must leave now or we will be left behind." Erich looked between Elisha and Captain 26.

"Very well, let us depart," said Erich turning sharply on his heel and walking towards the tram. Walking beside the grenadier he was a full head taller, though still skinny having yet to fill out.

"Don't forget about me now Erich okay?" said Elisha. Erich stopped and turned to her, pausing in the tram doorway, stooping to fit inside the doorway.

"I will see you in eight months time, upon completion of my guard training. The new recruits are allowed to return home briefly if they choose to." It was tradition that all new Korps recruits were allowed to return home briefly to say their farewells and close any remaining ties with their families. It was strictly optional though, and most simply chose to abstain from the practice, preferring instead to ship out immediately for the nearest war zone.

"I'll hold you to it," said Elisha as the tram door closed. Armoured shutters lowered like heavy eyelids, protecting the tram from any form or radiation as it made its way through the underbelly of Krieg or to the surface if it became necessary.

With the squeal of metal and the strain of super-heavy engines the tram began to pick up speed and was soon departed from the station, chased after by its own sounds rebounding off of the enclosed walls and disappearing down the open maw of the tunnel. Elisha stared after it for a time, before donning her mask and heading back towards the Baronesses entourage on the upper levels. Her shoes made lonely echoes as she walked away from the station.

Erich watched the subterranean city roll by the armoured glass. It was a marvel of architecture. The city was built in a hollowed out cavern stretching for miles in every direction, including vertically. Tall, imposing, grey stone or ferracrete buildings towered high above the lowest levels of the capital hive city. Foot traffic bustled to and fro, a sea of grey and black moving as relentlessly as the tides. Large lights were mounted in the caverns roof, giving off many millions of candle power of light. They bathed the city in a whitish, yellow glow. Though it did little to dispel the perpetual gloom that the city was shrouded in. Skyway bridges crisscrossed like arteries and veins, connecting the hive towers and allowing them to exchange workers like red blood cells. What most people find odd when they walk in a Krieg city is the quiet. Make no mistake, that there is noise like any city, but there is a stillness to it. There is the low rumble of heavy machinery, the steady pitter patter of feet, and the thrum of engines from civil vehicles. There was still noise, but hardly any sound.

There were no raised voices, no shouts of vendors hawking their wares, no voices raised in cheer, simply a quiet grim efficiency. The majority of the people walking down on the bridges would be women, since the majority of the male population was sent into the Korps. Those who were exceptionally virile or had skills deemed necessary to Kriegs survival were exempted and instead served in a civil capacity. A hefty proportion of the male population on Krieg was tied up in the PDF armies or the SDF in orbit. Indeed the thrum of machinery, the press of the forges, the very cold heart of Krieg was kept beating by its daughters.

The reason that those with a higher virility were allowed to remain on Krieg was that they had the highest chance of conceiving and spawning more children. These men were referred to as breeders, as that was the reason why they were kept behind. Krieg was bathed in radiation, it was a fact of life, unavoidable, ignored, and accepted. The people of Krieg had a slight natural resistance to it, but it still affected them. Widespread gene treatments had solved the rampant cancer rates, but it still affected the Kriegers themselves in a more intimate way. To put it bluntly and somewhat crudely, they shot blanks.

The men on Krieg had an embarrassingly low sperm count, just as the women had a terrible conception rate. For every successful conception there was three that had failed. Those were the statistics of the natural conception rates at least. Krieg however, held a somewhat more prominent place in Imperial command on account of the unswerving loyalty and toughness of the soldiers it produced. Obviously wanting more of such a valuable resource, the majos biologis distributed drugs, pills, hormones and other paraphernalia that increased the birth rate. Krieg was a factory, turning out lasguns and guardsmen in equal measure, with an equal value attached to each. Everything and everyone of Krieg was a resource.

Erich watched the quiet, almost solemn way that Kreig went about its daily life and was proud of it. Here was a culture, a people who were devoted to the Emperor body and soul. He felt a slight sense of trepidation looking down on it. This was the norm that was expected, the Korps demanded much higher and he would not disappoint. He could not disappoint.

The rest of the tram ride was uneventful, the spartan furnishings, far less than what Erich was used to, but it worked. The interior was lit with low watt electro scones, set in alcoves in the roof. They gave off a weak yellow light, that gave the interior the impression of a perpetual twilight. Erich sat on a canvas like bench, with room for another on it. With his immense size though, the person would have to be quite small to fit next to him. He could only imagine how large he would be when he finally filled out completely. Facing him opposite was Captain 26 silent and still as a statue.

"Captain, what can I expect to find in the Korps?" asked Erich eager to get just a little more insight into the famed regiments before he joined.

"You will find a much vaunted fighting force. If you are worthy you will find a place amongst its number. If you are smiled upon, you will find a good end to meet in the Emperors service," answered 26 immediately as if prepared for the question, seemingly expecting it.

"Yes I know of that, but what occupations are there within the Korps?" said Erich slightly impatient, it only betrayed by the slight modulation of his voice. 26 seemed annoyed by the continued questioning, the only hint was his posture shifted ever so slightly.

"Well," began 26. "The majority are simple riflemen, armed with a lasgun and standard equipment. If you find yourself amongst them it will mean that you either have no outstanding skills or you are a squad leader. There is no shame in being a rifleman, in fact it is the rifleman that carries the fight to the enemy first. You would be trained to have a general understanding of how to work, operate, clean, and fight with various heavy weapons and other assorted skills such as stealth or trench raiding." 26 brought himself further up on his bench and made himself more comfortable.

"If you are a good shot, you will be trained as either a marksman or a sniper. You would be tasked with terminating enemy officers, compromising enemy morale, directing forward artillery and scouting. With your size though, I wouldn't recommend this choice," said 26 looking Erich up and down. "You need a low profile, be able to hide in every piece of conceivable cover and survive for days on your own with minimal food and water. You would have a large profile, have trouble finding cover and would require much more food and water to sustain yourself."

"So then what would you recommend that I apply for?" asked Erich.

"With your size, strength and melee fighting skills, I would recommend assault. Or if you would prefer heavy squad based weapons."26 rubbed an imaginary smudge off of his gleaming death heads pins. "A word of advice lord, while you still are a lord. Don't be a coward in the Korps, survivalists aren't looked upon favourably in the ranks." Erich felt a dark anger rise in him at the accusation.

"You dare accuse me of cowardice? I would fight and die on a word for the Emperors' glory. I have already bested one of his innumerable foes and I plan to take many more with me before my time is nigh," said Erich, voice low and dangerous. "In the future I would ask that you keep your accusations to yourself."

"I accused you of nothing lord, merely stated the facts. If you have some guilt that makes you perceive otherwise, then that is not my concern," 26 was as unflappable as ever, seeming almost serene behind his mask despite the fact that a miniature ogryn was getting angry at him. His hand never strayed far from his las pistol however.

"I have no guilt, my conscience and soul are free of any such burdens," said Erich easing his vast frame back into his seat.

"There is always guilt lord, no matter what we tell ourselves." Erich remained silent, staring out the window again. His old life already seemed so far away, like it was just out of reach. He felt a stirring inside of himself, whether it was grief, elation, or trepidation, he was not sure. Though it seemed like a vaguely, happy feeling. Even if it did make him antsy.

It was all so new, so much so fast that he wasn't sure that he could keep up. Sometimes it felt like nothing could shake him and others it felt like everything was going to crush him under the weight of his responsibilities. Only time would tell he guessed.

"Servant, I have a small request for you." It was Helena who spoke, baroness of the Von Shreider family. She would never call it a favour, even if that was what it was. They had returned to the governors palace, and since the Inquisition showed no signs of letting up the investigation they would not be returning to the manor anytime soon.

"What can I do for you baroness?" asked Elisha, showing the amount of respect necessary for the nobility of Krieg.

"With this current state of flux ongoing, I had planned on taking a pleasure cruise around the sub-sector for several months. My handmaidens are not quite adequately skilled to look after my needs. This being the case I have come to ask that you accompany me in my endeavour. Only until they are adequately capable of course."

"Of course," said Elisha politely. Not adequately cowed is what you mean, thought Elisha not nearly as politely. The reason that the Baroness got off-world handmaidens, was that they were much easier to intimidate than a Krieg woman. Try to intimidate someone who lived on what was classified as a deathworld and see how well that turned out for you. The women of Krieg might not be soldiers, but being on a world like Krieg made you acquire certain skills. The prickle rat breeding season was an especially dangerous time, as well as the stalkers that dwelt on the surface. Elisha had never seen one in person, but they were supposed to be terrifying. Not to mention, the hard life of living in some of the lowest sections of the hive.

"We will be leaving in two days time, I will expect you to be ready and able at any time that I require. Day or night."

"I will help you when I can, but my other duties may render me unable to be of assistance when you require my help."

"What other duties?" questioned the baroness.

"The ones that lord Erich left for me," replied Elisha vaguely.

"And those would be?"

"I am afraid that I am unable to say. He was most specific that they remain secret." Elisha swore she saw the baronesses jaw twitch as she finished.

"Very well," said the baroness as if the words were being forced out through a thimble. "I will see you when we depart servant." She turned sharply on her heel, moving so quickly that her hair whipped around and she walked away quickly, heels muffled by the expensive carpets.

"I look forward to seeing you soon your ladyship," called out Elisha after her sweetly. "You bitch," she muttered under her breath. The baroness kept walking as regal as ever, and completely oblivious to the flagrant disrespect.

Erich stepped off the tram at the Korps military station. It was a massive structure built for practicality and defensive capability's' instead of aesthetic appeal. It stretched several kilometres down into Krieg, as well as two hundred metres above the surface. The walls in many places were over a metre thick, of hardened permacrete and steel alloy reinforcements. It was shielded against radiation, chemical attacks, orbital bombardment, ground assaults, infiltration and if it ever happened, nuclear. The structure was said to be able to take several direct hits of high yield atomic weaponry. Some would say that orbital bombardment was the most fearsome assault that could be unleashed on a foe; the people of Krieg begged to differ.

An orbital bombardment, if done with the right class of ship and weaponry, could indeed crack a continent; destroy an entire planet even. But, it was the nuclear torch that was a far crueler weapon to use. It would kill you in an instant... if you were lucky. Those that survived would have to endure a hellish wasteland and constant battle for survival. The mutation or utter destruction of the planets animalia and planatalia was shocking. Once docile creatures were turned into ravenous beasts, resistant to all but the deadliest poisons and toxins. There were no naturally growing plant life on Krieg, mushrooms and hydroponics were the only planatalia left of Krieg. Some wished that the same for the animalia. Some of those creatures, were disturbing to say the least.

Erich followed close on Captain 26's heels, careful not to be caught up and separated in the press of bodies and foot traffic. His height helped him keep sight of 26, even at times when he was completely cut off from him by the bustle of Korpsman and new recruits like him. No one ever ran into each other though. No one pushed. No one shoved. It was a very polite press of bodies, but a press of bodies all the same.

Some of the people scattered around talked in low voices, in groups of friends or parents saying goodbye. Erich had heard, that once you joined the Korps, you had no family. Your fellow guardsmen were just that, guardsmen. Though that must have been an exaggeration. After all, his father had still been around while serving in the Korps.

Erich followed 26 through a set of blast doors, guarded by rigid Korps soldiers at either side; their lasguns were held in an upwards ceremonial position, that could easily be brought to bear should the need arise. That will be me, though Erich as he walked past the guards. The roof was not very high, no more than ten metres perhaps and he was certain that the floors above were much lower that this one. There were long lines of masked men, all having reached adulthood at fifteen and waiting to enlist in the Korps. All they did was sign their name on the dotted line and receive their instructions.

Erich had heard that the Korps was changing the way it numbered the Korps. Instead of turning out a random number, it would be done by regiment number, battalion, company, than the troopers number in the regiment. Say that he was the 47th trooper in the regiment, his number would be 0047 within the regiment. If it was for more informal purposes. On paper, or operating with other regiments and he was with the 84th artillery regiment, his designation would be trooper Alpha-84-0047. Or for short hand A-84-0047. With the battalion and company added of course it would be longer with bet more numbers and letters. It was easier to simply reassign the old numbers than to constantly assign new ones. Less of a paper trail.

"There is one thing that I did forget to mention lord when we were coming here," said 26 conversationally as Erich waited in the ridiculously long line. It seemed to travel at a snails pace, despite the fact that each new recruit only scribbled their name of a piece of paper and was guided off down to be kitted in a different area. After being checked for lice, diseases, mutations, or any other ailments that would make individual unfit for military service. In the case of mutations, unfit for life, but that rarely happened.

"May I enquire at to what that was?" asked Erich shuffling forward every few seconds.

"I am afraid that you will have to relinquish your power sword to the Korps until you reach an appropriate rank to use it." Erich turned on 26 sharply.

"This is my sword, mine. It is a symbol of my status and my gift into adulthood. I can fight superbly with it and I will not relinquish it simply because I do not have the junior rank necessary to hold it," said Erich sharply. "I am sure that they will understand my desire to retain my own weapon," said Erich taking a few quick steps to keep the line moving. "A small exception can be made, surely."

"Personal weapons are prohibited for enlisted personal, or officers below the rank of captain. There will be no understanding and no exceptions."

"That is simply intolerable, I must lodge a complaint about this practice," said Erich sourly. "It would make far more sense to allow the troopers to fight with what they were best with."

"The door is right behind you lord," said 26.

Erich let out something akin to a growl and began to unbuckle the power sword. "Makes no sense at all," grumbled Erich.

"What are you doing?" questioned 26.

"I am giving you my power sword, since that I am not allowed to keep it on my person," said Erich stiffly.

"I don't want it," 26 said frankly. "You're not in the Korps yet, and unless you actually intend on giving it to me to keep, then I suggest that you hang onto it until they ask for it." Erich felt his face flush at his mistake and quickly refastened the belt. He shoved his hands into his well tailored pockets irritated.

"Don't put your hands in your pockets, it's a sign of disrespect," said 26. Erich quickly removed his hands and kept moving forwards. Finally, he was staring across a stone table sunk into the floor at a Korpsman sergeant. He pushed a form forward that was only a single page long with a small x at the bottom. Signature. Erich signed his name in full on the dotted line in his elegantly sloped, long hand writing. Erich Rudolf Von Shreider. The auto quill seemed unnaturally loud as he set it back down on the desk.

"Down the hall trooper," said the sergeant with absolute authority. Which in a way, he now had over Erich. Erich turned to 26 to say his final farewell and thank him for his help.

"Get moving trooper," said 26 to him before leaving to conduct some task or other. Erich stood there stunned for a moment, before realizing that he now no longer had the same privileges as before.

Erich took off at a brisk walk down the indicated hallway, clutching at his paper like a lifeline. He saw several doorways with signs hanging above them proclaiming their different functions. New recruits and Korps personnel bustled about, moving from room to room with professional ease. Occasionally a new recruit was confused as to where to go and an imposing noncom would point him in the right direction. Erich himself was ushered into an infirmary by a sergeant with a bionic arm and then proceeded to be poked and prodded. He was declared fit enough for service and was sent to the next station.

Erich went through several other stations and finally had to deposit his personal effects into a clear, heavy plastic box. His power sword was deposited inside, as well as his fine clothes that covered his enviro suit. He was allowed to keep the aquilla necklace since that it was a devotional icon to the Emperor. That was probably good, since he would quite possible have gotten a court martial when they would have tried to take it. That would have been a short and inauspicious career in the Korps.

The next station was the mandatory devotional station. In it, Erich was marked as a chip of the Emperors hammer. A member of his innumerable legions, fight the seemingly infinite numbers of mankind's enemies. On his left bicep, right below the shoulder, an Imperial Aquilla was tattooed into his flesh. The symbol of humanity was etched into his flesh in the form of a daring double-headed bird, in bold black. Now he was forever marked by the Imperial Guard, their mark to be carried as a part of himself till his dying breath.

The last station was in a warehouse like building, where they took his measurements and made him stand in another line. He was issued more of his kit the farther down he went and by the time he got to the end, he had everything he needed. There was no need to switch masks, since that civilian and Korps masks were mass produced to save on factory retooling. Though the enviro suits would have to be handed in to the Korps, so they could use the standard issue of the Korps. As Erich was waiting to continue on; milling around with his syndicate waiting for orders. He decided to take a first hand look at his new equipment.

He pulled the helmet out of the fishnet synthetic bag and turned it over in his hands. There was a bladed spike on top and it was scratched in some places showing the bare metal underneath. His probing hands felt over the surface, then caught on something. Erich turned the helmet over to look at the problem spot and nearly dropped it. In the side of the helmet was a hole. Just big enough for his finger to slip through. A gap toothed grin in the metal that seemed to promise Erich a similar fate, with an arrogant assurance. As if fate wanted to make it clear what would happen and wanted to tear down any facade of survival.

"The Death Korps," said Erich to himself, now understanding it in full.

Erich was sleeping fitfully, when the reveille was sounded. He woke up instantly and rolled out of bed onto the floor. He began to remake his bed as fast as he could, frantic activity mimicked by all the others around him. Heavy boots thudded down the centre isle of the 120 man barracks. One of the sergeants flipped the mattress of a trooper too slow to get out of bed. A few minutes of frantic bed making, with improvised measuring and hoping that it was right, they were uniformed and going for their morning run. It was a ten kilometre run through dimly lit tunnels still on the night cycle.

Erich had failed the bed inspection on his first day of training. He had never had much of a standard to maintain and even then the servants had done most of the work. The company sergeant major hadn't said a word when he had seen the bed and footlocker. He had left instructions for the sergeant and left. Erich was then made to carry the bed and foot locker three kilometres and set it up in one of the innumerable tunnels and await inspection. He had managed to pass, but then had to carry it back to the barracks and make it back before lights out. They had given him an hour to do it in and if not for his immense size and strength, he was sure that he wouldn't have made it in time.

They ran in step in ranks of three, those who fell behind would face extra duties and punishment details. They ran in full gear. Packs equipped for life in the field and lasguns slung over shoulders. Their laboured breathing and thunder like footsteps was the only sound that accompanied them. Other regiments had songs, inspirational phrases, or some other morale boosting device to call out as they ran. The Korps had none. Erich ran at the front, his height giving him the honorary position of right marker. It was better at the front of the column, he could see where to place his feet and didn't have to look at the backs of the other troopers and trust that the ground beneath his feet was free of any imperfections.

They set a steady rhythm and the pace wasn't overly taxing. Erich had to remember to keep his paces shorter to the standard, so he didn't outpace the shorter troopers. The pack didn't bother him, well designed to help the wearer carry it with ease, despite the weight that it held. The lasgun was still a little foreign to him, but he was learning it as quickly as he could, determined to succeed. He had dealt mostly with pistols and swords, the nobility finding little use for a las rifle. Though he had used one on occasion on prickle rat hunting trips in the lowest levels of Krieg hives.

The sergeants ran alongside them, spaced strategically to maximize their supervisory roles. It was unnecessary though, the troopers would do what was expected of them. One thing that Erich had learned when he had arrived in his new home was that he was not allowed to call himself by his name, even in private. He wasn't even allowed to refer to himself as I, the proper introduction was this trooper. For slipping up, the new recruits were made to run laps around the tunnels. Only for a kilometre though for an infraction. There was a lot of running those first few weeks.

After their run was a short hygiene period with lethargic water, then breakfast. Five minutes was all that was allotted to eat. They shovelled the food into the sides of their masks, holding it open with one hand and piling it in with the other. Then they were inspected, uniforms marked and lasrifles scrutinized. It was only an hour or so of standing at attention though and it allowed a reprieve from the training. They had yet to receive their full identification numbers, so they were simply numbered A-001 to A-120. Erich was trooper A-027. Those who failed the inspection would go through it again at 0200 hours after several hours of drill.

After inspection they had drill, and learned all the subtle nuances and timings of the clockwork precise movements. The drill sergeant major went around with a metal rod and gave the troopers a rap who were doing it incorrectly. A-027 only received a few raps during the class and the thick fatigues took most of the blow anyway.

After drill was weapons maintenance classes, where they were taught to care for their lasrifle as if it was a small child. Giving it constant care and attention. The Krieg lasrifle was longer than most other regiments had, and semi-automatic. It had fewer shots per cell, but greater range and power. They had a sword bayonet that they sharpened to a razor keen on their leather strops. By the end of their training, they would be expected to take apart their rifles and put them back together in two minutes. As of yet, it took a little better than half an hour.

They did bare knuckled pushups until they bled, the skin tearing on the hard ground wrists shaking until they finally gave out. They would run until they dropped, then crawl until they couldn't move. The physical regimen was gruelling, but it had a purpose. The knuckle pushups would toughen their knuckles with callouses, and strengthen their wrists for fighting. It would teach them to deal with pain and harden their resolve for when combat was thickest. The running and other exercises would give them muscles, strength and endurance, allowing them to operate when most others people would have collapsed from exhaustion. They would do group exercises, working their muscles until they could take no more. Work them to the point of exhaustion and pain. Then they would do it again. No one complained about it, no one wanted to do poorly and fail.

Bayonet practice was done with a precise brutality. Graceful, yet deadly. The sword bayonets flashed on the ends of the long rifles as they spun in patterns of attack and defence. They easily punctured the test dummies, sticking fast until pulled free after twisting to cause maximum damage. A-027 had heard that at the end of training, if there were enough criminals or failed vat born, they would get to practice on live targets. There was no way of knowing if it was true or not, but if it was then they would have to be sure to practice the best that they could. There was no arguing if it was a fatal stab on a living target. It would be embarrassing to run them through only to have to stand there while they bled out, from the inept thrust.

A-027 found out that he excelled at marksmanship and unarmed or melee weapons training. The long las rifle favoured by the Korps fit his size perfectly and years of intense training made him able to break rockcrete blocks with his bare hands. If only he could use a sword, or something other than the sword bayonet. Then he would show them true skill with a blade. He wasn't good enough with a rifle to qualify as a sniper, but that suited him just fine. He doubted that he would do particularly well staying still for days at a time if it proved necessary for just a single kill. The unarmed fighting was exhilarating if a bit dull at times. Having had extensive training, added to his strength and size made it simply lack in challenge. It was also in the unarmed training, that he killed his fist human being.

The ground was dirt here, to limit the damage done when the troopers hit the ground. It was a rectangular area, and completely flat. A-027 stood in the formation of 120 men at rigid attention as their captain briefed them on their latest training. Row upon row of silent, mask clad Korpsmen gave him their full attention, their rifles held leaning against their shoulders in a position of attention. The area was well lit, but not overly bright. The lighting could be changed to simulate different times of day, as well as the ground changed to simulate different environments. You could fight on solid rock one day, have it dotted with boulders on irregular ground another and shifting sand dunes on the third. The Korps took its training very seriously. The captain was named Captain T-98, denoting him as a training officer. The odd arthritic movements and low whine of his legs hinted at the augmetic replacements that were undoubtedly under his fatigues. The clack hiss when he spoke wasn't just the usual expulsion of gases from his enviro suit. It made A-027 wonder just how extensive the damage was, but he was fast finding that he was starting to not care about things that weren't a priority to know, or related to his duties.

"Today, we begin what in my professional opinion is the most important aspect of your combat training," said T-98, his words punctuated by the clack-hiss of his breathing. Usually it wasn't proper to refer to yourself directly, but it also depended on the situation. The standard was mostly for new recruits who needed to be fully integrated into the Korps and the denial of personal identity was just a tool used. The Korpsmen who survived for an extended period of time began to refer to themselves in the first person, understanding the need to place the needs of the Korps above themselves and thus allowed to identify themselves as separate again.

"For on this day, you will be learning how to fight with the weapons that the Emperor armed you with when you came into this world. I am talking of your hands, your feet, your teeth and even mind. A time will come when the difference between life and death, victory and defeat, will depend upon your ability to fight with your bare hands." T-98 removed the glove on his right hand and held up his hand for all assembled to see. It shone brightly in the light.

"I lost this hand and much of my arm in a fight with an ork," T-98 said making his hand rotate a full 360 degrees. "I was stationed with the 301st heavy siege regiment on Almanya in our own segmentum. I was on the eastern portion of the trench line and in the thick of the fighting. We were well dug in and were able to pour fire onto the advancing greenskin menace, killing them in droves. They were only able to reach the trench line when we ran out out of ammunition for our heavy stubbers and bolters. I shot this orc twice in the chest, before he jumped into the trench with me." His tone changed as is reliving the fight in vivid detail, his voice sounding almost dreamy and distant.

"My rifle was knocked from my grasp and I was forced to fight with my bayonet and bare hands. The xeno was horribly strong and fast, but clumsy. Even so, a single hit from his choppa and another distinguished veteran would be here training you instead of me. I scored several wounds on the beast, but nothing enough to kill it. It attempted to bite me, with its grotesque tusks and deformed mouth. It bit down on my arm after it knocked me against the trench wall, but I was able to turn the bayonet so that it faced upwards. When the xeno bit down it took my arm, but I took its life in return. I credit my survival and many kills that I have made for the Emperor to these very classes in which you are about to partake in now. Learn well, be quick, don't hold back and fight as hard as you can." T-98 donned his glove again and looked over the assembled ranks again as if looking for something. He departed, accompanied by a sergeant in full dress uniform and left with the stiff gait of mid-grade augmetics.

A-027 and the rest of the recruits were split up into pairs or small groups and instructed to begin when ready. This would be the first time that they would actually fight instead of just training and they were eager to show their skills. Shortly after they started fighting, they were stopped by the supervisors with a few curt words. They had been fighting, like they were still sparing in the civilian training centres. They weren't supposed to hold back in the least and after a verbal lashing, they were told to continue.

A-027 circled with his opponent, a larger Korpsman who was closest in size to him. He was a little shorter, but built like a Baneblade. A long vivid scratch decorated the front of his mask, a reminder of the fate that the previous owner had no doubt suffered. The large Korpsman rushed forwards and led with a powerful hay-maker. A-027 blocked it with a flick of his arm and delivered a straight, powerful punch directly into the other troopers mask. The thickset Korpsman staggered back, and then A-027 followed up with a powerful sidekick knocking him flat onto his back.

A-027 adopted a low stance, securing his footing on the dirt ground and waited for his opponent to regain his footing. The Korpsman was quickly on his feet, though he coughed and quickly brought his hands up in a ready stance. The wide Korpsman was a little more wary now and watched for an opening to exploit. A-027 didn't give him a chance to find one. He rushed his opponent and executed a standing spin kick which took the robust Korpsman in the side of the head. A-027s' opponent almost hit the ground again, but recovered and threw his weight into a hard return punch that was sidestepped. A-027 danced around the Korpsman, making him seem clumsy in his attempts to land a blow. A-027 hit him again and again, but he refused to go down.

He came again and again, each time receiving more punishment than the last. A three strike punch combo, followed by a round house sent him sprawling. A strike at the knee, twisting it savagely, possibly dislocating it and then a back fist to the side of the head. Each time the Korpsman came back for more, and each time A-027 hit him a little harder hoping that he would just stay down.

After a particularly brutal hit against the Korpsman, A-027 was sure that he heard bones crack, but his opponent didn't go down, simply attacked with renewed ferocity wheezing. 'Don't hold back,' the words echoed in his mind like words in a wide cavern with an amused child wanting to hear its own voice. He ducked a swing from the Korpsman and delivered an uppercut with such force that he lifted his opponent off of the ground, then kicked him as hard as he could while the Korpsman was still in the air.

The Korpsman flew backwards and hit the earth hard, the greatcoat taking the worst of the impact with the ground. A-027 held his fighting stance and waited for his opponent to either yield or continue the fight. And he waited. And he waited. A-027 cautiously dropped his stance and advanced to his fallen opponent. He was wary for a trap, but that was not the way of the Korps. He knelt down and shook his opponent. Nothing. A-027 felt his heart-rate pick up and a nauseous feeling take hold in his stomach. What had he done?

He had killed his opponent, a fellow Korpsman. This was a crime, a travesty of the Korps good name. Not to mention that he had killed a loyal and devout servant of the Emperor. He would be expelled from the Korps, discarded, shamed before all of his family in addition to the Korps. His father would be ashamed. A-027 stood up hastily and backed away from the body quickly. Eager to distance himself from the body as if it would rise up and accuse him of committing the crime of its murder. The training was supposed to be hard, realistic. Not fatal, not like this. A-027 was still running through the various punishments and shame that he would be dealt and had done when one of the training sergeants walked up to the fallen Korpsman. He knelt down and checked for signs of life.

"Sergeant, I...I didn't mean for this to happen. I was only trying to do my best and not hold back. If I would have known that I would, if it would have done this, then I would never have done it." A-027 was almost pleading with the sergeant to understand. The sergeant removed one of his gloves and a pale hand checked for a pulse. Then the sergeant removed the Korpsmans' mask, looking for any sign of life. A young bruised face, discoloured with blood leaking from the mouth was all he found underneath. The jaw looked distorted, as if it had a joint from which it could bend with and the bone distended the flesh of the dead face. The sergeant stood and advanced on A-027 with a confident if quick stride. Despite being nearly a head shorter than A-027, the sergeant made him feel very small.

"How did this happen?" asked the sergeant, his voice strictly business. A-027 adopted a position of attention and found a spot far away to stare at, while he told what had transpired.

"In the course of this troopers training with A-062, this trooper dealt a fatal blow to him, which resulted in his death sergeant."

"Did you hit him in the throat or any other area which would could have caused internal hemorrhaging or destroyed any vital areas?"

"No sergeant, this trooper did not. This trooper fought him how it had been taught and trained. This trooper should have restrained itself and it did not. This trooper is sorry for its failure sergeant, and will accept any punishment that is deemed fit." A-027 stood straight and waited for the words that would end his career and possibly his life as well.

"Your punishment will be the regular for breaking article 2, subsection 5," said the sergeant in a businesslike tone.

"Personnel protocol, sergeant?" Questioned A-027 confused.

"Yes, you referred to yourself as I several times, but it was in a stressful time so some leniency will be given for the situation."

"But sergeant, this trooper killed a fellow Korpsman."

"Yes, but we ordered you to not hold back and from my preliminary inspection of the body, you followed the rules accordingly. It was not your fault, though in the future we would ask that you refrain from killing your sparring partner. Cripple if necessary, but don't kill if at all possible. After supper tonight, you will be expected to report for disciplinary action. That is all."

"Yes sergeant," said A-027 dumbly. The sergeant left and a quartermaster found a place beside the body and began to strip it of all its gear. A-062s' gear. On a world where every scrap of equipment was irreplaceable, nothing was wasted. Even if it had to be picked off the still warm body of its previous owner. The quartermaster worked quickly, like an efficient scavenger. He undid the clasps and seals with a quick, professional air. One of the last pieces removed from the dead Korpsman was the mask with a long scratch down the front of it. A-027 never wanted to see that mask with the scratch for the rest of his life.

The Korps training lasted for eight months. For eight long months, A-027 learned the art of killing, discipline, drill, and unswerving loyalty to the Imperium of man. They drilled relentlessly day in and day out. The Korps gave, but they also took away. They took away their fear, their doubt, their laxity, their selfishness, their gluttony and their old identities. They were the Korps, just as the Korps was them. They gave them a calling, duty, purpose, a way to serve that would redeem them all. Once clumsy with the long las rifles, the new Korpsman could pick off a prickle rat at a hundred metres, open sights. Once unsure with a bayonet, they could wield it as well as any artist did their brush. Once hesitant to fight hand to hand, they attacked each other like the other was a member of the arch enemy. They were Korpsman in all but designation now, but there was still one test left to them.

The lift ascended on well maintained tracks and cables, only making the occasional screech or groan. The lift was for bulk shipments and at the moment contained over a hundred Korpsman of A-027s' training company. The company had done well in training, the troopers performing well to the conditioning and harsh training standards. Nearly the entirety of the Korps training took place underground. Safe, secure, presided over by the steady gaze of veteran Korps soldiers. Many of which were classified as combat invalids, but were still of value so were relegated to training roles. Through their guidance and tutelage, the next wave of Korpsman were trained sent forth into the Emperors' wars. Still, not all knowledge can be taught, some needed to be learned first hand.

After the 'never-ending night,' many Kriegers were never given a proper burial. There was simply not the resources or ability to bury them. Not only that, but it was dangerous to try and find the bodies on the surface. Any suit breach would be fatal, and dragging a full body was both tiring and dangerous. You were exposed to more than just the elements on the surface. It was these conditions that made chipping the acceptable form of burial.

Chipping, was the act of taking a small fragment of bone from a body in order to put the soul at rest, by at least giving a piece of its body a proper burial. There was no real formal procedure for chipping, formalities took time and that was something that you just didn't have when exposed to the howling, ferocious and sickly winds that prowled Kriegs surface. Air was precious as it was limited on Krieg and the little gauge on the side of their suits was all too willing to remind them of it. Not to mention the risk of stalkers.

A-027 checked his gauge. Full. He stared at the measuring increments on it, as if wondering if it was lying to him and was in fact empty. Simply waiting until he was beyond the safety of the underground facilities, before it would coyly inform him that he was going to die. It was an irrational fear of course, he had filled his tanks personally. He had nearly a weeks worth of breathable air, and he wouldn't need even a tenth of it. It would be simple. Walk in the old world, find a body, take a bone fragment, then leave. It wasn't like it would be overly hard or dangerous.

Yellow glow globes, protected by iron bars passed the lift by as it ascended, eyeing the soon to be Korpsman. A-027 checked his las rifle for the umpteenth time to pass the time. Focusing lens was clean and correctly aligned. The power pack was tight in its holding. The weapon was good, so why did he feel so nervous? The dark metal of the lift and silent troopers around him were unforthcoming, and A-027 found that he didn't really care to find out. Nervousness would pass and if it didn't then he would ignore it, fears only interfered with combat efficiency.

The lift ground to a halt with a loud clank and the hiss of hydraulics releasing pressure. Red strobe lights flashed and the great metal door in front of them emblazoned with a giant imperial skull, sank into the ground. Beyond the giant door, was several Korpsman technicians and another giant door emblazoned with yet another Imperial skull. The technicians were quite adept at handling the instruments of the Omnissiah, much to the displeasure of the Adeptus Mechanicus. There was a long standing disagreement between Krieg and the Martian priesthood. The Adeptus Mechanicus believed that they had jurisdiction over any and all mechanical instruments in the Imperium of Man. Krieg, politely disagreed.

When you were dependant on the bulk filters, purifiers, and various other instruments that kept you alive day to day, usually you wanted to be the one to make sure that they continued working. Of course a few large scale accidents had occurred as a result of this practice. The vigilance of the average Krieger was usually enough to stop any significant damage, so the catastrophes were mitigated. The priesthood had tried to use these incidents to show that only they could manage the glories of the Omnissiahs' creation. Citing that they should be the ones to handle the facilities. They denied all accusations that they had been responsible for the incidents with the machines, saying that there would be repercussions for further slander. The leaders of Krieg had relented, and stationed large units of PDF to guard the facilities and keep the Mechanicus out. The accident rate had dropped by 96% after this action was taken. Several priests had been terminated after attempting to sneak into the air purification plants. The Adeptus Mechanicus denied all involvement with the 'rogue' priests.

The Korpsman troopers filed in and filled in the space between the two doors, and the large door behind them closed like a hungry maw. There were several actual Korpsman grenadiers standing guard at the thick door in front of them. That was a little odd since that grenadiers were either bodyguards or deployed to warzones on dangerous missions. To have soldiers of their calibre here was a bit of a rarity.

There were no final instructions, the orders had been perfectly clear. Obtain a fragment of bone from a deceased citizen and return. Obtain it in any way necessary and do whatever it took for the mission to succeed. Strangely dire sounding orders for such a simple task. A-027 reformed with the rest of the company and waited for the technicians to open the final obstacle in their path. With a warning klaxon and angry red strobe lights, it opened. Tainted light crept in, like a snake through the cracks in a wall. A hiss, then a rush of cold, toxic air washed over them causing their greatcoats to flare momentarily. For many of them, it was their first time looking upon the surface of their planet. It was a sight that would be burned into their minds for the rest of their lives.

Dark, blackened towers rose like desiccated skeletons from the grave soil of Krieg. Many broken or fallen down, shattered remains of a once proud city stood. Tall, imposing, intimidating and utterly lifeless superstructures stood like jet black apparitions of the souls of those who came before. The ceiling on the surface stretched forever, with dark rolling clouds swirling violently like storm waters that A-027 had heard formed on oceans, but had never seen. No, not the ceiling, the sky. It was so high. A-027 felt nauseous looking at it, like he was going to fall into the sky, because surely the simple forces of gravity could not hold him down with such an expanse looming overhead? Forks of lightning lanced the sky, briefly illuminating the charred remains of the old hive. Thunder rolled like a baneblade, rumbling deeply before dying away completely. The land was desolate in all directions, sand or sickly grey dirt was all that was present as far as the eye could see. It was a place of death and misery, a tomb, a graveyard, but one which its dead still needed to be put to rest.

Some scavenged through the old hives, looking for treasure or profit. Some looked for old technology hoping to sell to the Mechanicus, while others looked to piece together history. They would be intruders too, but hopefully the dead would forgive them since they were coming to give them peace, not rob their crypt.

As one, the Kriegers took a step forward, A-027 being one of the first outside. Heavy automated bolter and multi las turrets guarded the approaches to the gate, which was stuck in the side of a mountain face; a gentle slope leading down towards the hive. The Kriegers formed a column and began marching into the old world. Only two words were said, and by a grenadier no less.

"Good luck," as toneless and emotionless as the land surrounding them.

The first casualty died badly. After a half hour of marching, just at the outskirts of the city limits, he died. All had been fine, then a trooper farther back in the column had begun frantically fiddling with his respirator unit. Hissing was heard, then hacking and coughing. For how long he had been breathing unclean air was uncertain, only that he had noticed far too late. The trooper fell to the ground gasping and retching, spasming while trying to breathe air that trickled away like sand between his fingers. The column stopped and watched. There was no helping the trooper and no way that they could get him back in time for medical treatment. It was a bad way to die, a hated way to die and if being honest feared. No one wanted to die like that, no one deserved that. Helpless and fragile, fighting against an enemy which was unable to be struck back.

The company quartermaster walked calmly up to the gurgling trooper, and the ranks of Korpsman parted like wave to the bow of a ship. He knelt down to the trooper who was becoming quieter and delivered a las bolt from point blank range. An end to a bad death. The quartermaster worked quickly and efficiently stripping the corpse of all valuable equipment. Blank blue eyes stared up from the dead Korpsman, his mouth discoloured and a discoloured bile was present. They stared in silence.

An opportunistic Korpsman drew level with the body and rammed his sword-bayonet into the skull, working the blade before breaking off a fragment of bone. He deposited it into a glass vial, before walking back to the main gates. Crude, but it was a necessary thing to do and if he was smart enough to pick an easy target, then all the better. It was logical and practical, so why did it leave a bitter taste in A-027s' mouth?

The Korpsman reformed back into their files and resumed their marching. They were the Death Korps, death would not stop them. That still didn't stop them from double checking their gear though.

The Kriegers broke off into either pairs or small groups as they entered the city, some heading off on their own. No clear direction had been give for the retrieval of the chips, so since it was an individual assignment, the more ground that they could cover the faster they would get done and could leave this place.

Whether through fortune or chance, but most probably his untouchable qualities, A-027 was left bereft of a group or even partner to travel through the stricken hive. The wind howled down the empty streets, and his footprints in the dust and ash was wiped clean by the ever prevalent winds. Only dust and echoes belonged here, a place of memories for days gone past. Barely remembered truths and half remembered facts were all that he had to guide him. The toxic air formed serpent like tendrils, that greedily pulled, poked and prodded his A-027's environment suit looking for a way in. Finding none, it seemed to howl, drawing away in anger before returning for a more hopeful search.

Walking in the shadow of corpse like building and the long empty streets made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A-027 carried his las rifle cradled in his hands. It reassured him, made him feel more at ease in this place. The towering spires made his bulk, which had seemed so large in the tunnels underground seem so, insignificant. It was sobering as it was alien. A-027 looked to the sky again, then looked away just as quickly. The nausea was instant every time he looked into the endless sky.

He cast his gaze from left to right, hoping for an easy find and an end to this test, but he could find no easy pickings. A sudden thought occurred to him. What if he got lost? He had water that could be fed through the mask and freeze dried food that he could do the same with, but how long would that last? Would he eventually become the prize of another enterprising Korpsman looking for a chip to complete his test with? A-027 felt a momentary surge of panic, before pressing it down and reasserting his calm, cold, Korps trained mind. If he became lost, he would find a vantage point to reorient himself or vox for help. It was that simple, panic was useless. With renewed purpose, A-027 resumed his trek through the old world, looking for his chip.

Dark came quickly in the hive city and with only occasional sightings of other Korpsman on similar tasks, the dark seemed to solidify the feeling of isolation. It was not true dark though. Night was still many hours away, it was the malnourished spires and towering clouds that made night real when it was still a lie. Outside the hive it would still be light, but inside it may as well have been night. It would make finding his chip all the harder. It didn't help that the shadows were starting to play tricks on his eyes.

Dark shapes, dim silhouettes that danced just beyond the edges of his vision only to disappear when he dared to acknowledge them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his hands tingled all the way to his shoulders. Curse this place and its dancing shadows! Damn this premature dark and unclear task. A-027 tightened his grip on his rifle and continued onwards, the shadows always following, just out of sight and out of mind.

There were many building around, but none of them appeared even remotely safe to try and navigate. They were all crumbling, decayed wrecks that were so obviously a death trap as to not even warrant entertaining the idea of entering them. Falling through the rotten floor of a 200 storey hab was not A-027's idea of a good, honourable death.

The most promising place for a chip turned out to be what appeared to be an old hab spire that was mostly intact. Pieces of the wall was missing in places, it was the same monotonous grey as everything else around it; the paint or natural colouring having fled years ago. The windows were nearly all blown out, broken glass having once littered in bright patches, now were faded and worn. The permacrete was pockmarked and scarred, charred in many places and yet it stood. Amid the torment and desolation it stood. A beacon of permanency on a world where the only permanent thing was the the empty wastes and ruin its land.

A-027 climbed the short, but wide reaching stone steps, rubbed smooth by the countless passing of wind over its forgotten surfaces. Pieces of rubble and rocky debris dogged his footsteps as he picked his way through the debris. A particularly loud whooshing caught his attention, just before a large piece of permacrete added a new pile of debris, only scant metres from where he stood. Permacrete fragments spattered against his greatcoat even as A-027 jumped back and scanned the upper reaches of the spire.

He felt his adrenaline spike as he found targets, the dark shapes and shadows higher up and perched on ledges. Creatures, grotesque and deformed. There were dozens of them, only black outlined, but clearly visible. A-027 brought his rifle around, drawing a bead on one of the dark apparitions. He fired a las round, the sharp crack and red beam of the las bolt issuing forth. It struck the beast dead centre and, nothing. It didn't move, didn't cry out, no reaction. Only another piece of ferracrete, or maybe marble fell down and crashed onto the ground. A gargoyle.

A statue, a sculpture, a tribute perhaps, he had been jumping at shadows and had wasted a perfectly good round on absolutely nothing. He should have been more insistent on merging with another group, the loneliness and dark was getting to him. A-027 squared his shoulders and entered the spire, his mind set. Watched by countless pairs of cold, old eyes.

It was strange to tread through a mausoleum of the dead. It was a place of work, a place of living and daily life. Old cogitators stood unused at the reception desk, empty chairs behind petrified or rotten wooden counters. Wood. Grown and raised from Krieg itself, alive yet dead at the same time. Fallen shelves and empty slot boxes said that no one had lived here for a very long time. A-027's boots rang loudly on the stone floor and it almost seemed an affront. He softened his steps, almost fearful to make too much noise like he had when on the marble floors of the great Imperial Creed Cathedrals. As if the echoes would annoy the ministers and the beadle's would glare disapprovingly, fingering their truncheons ringed with rosary beads.

There was some rotten piles of cloth and fragments of wood mixed in with rusted metal that hinted of furniture, but it could have been anything at one time. Empty pictures hung in decaying frames, any colour having long drained away, so not even the outline remained. A-027 looked around the lobby for easy pickings, hoping that he could find a body and leave.

He came upon one such body, behind what he believed was a reception counter. He felt relief and quiet satisfaction that he had found his prize without having to proceed further. A-027 pulled a glass vial free from one of his pouches and bent to reap his grisly harvest. Just as A-027 was about to retrieve his chip, he noticed the other markings. Someone had already removed bone fragments from this skeleton, several in fact if this deep scratches and broken off pieces of bone were anything to go by.

He could take a fragment from the corpse, no one would question it. No one would ever know of the deception and it wasn't like he would be the first to do it. The bayonet hovered indecisively for a moment, before plunging back into its sheath.

"No, this trooper is better than that," said A-027 to himself. He wouldn't take the easy way out for this test, or anything else. Do it right, or don't do it at all. The best piece of advice, from his best teacher. A-027 felt where the aquilla necklace was beneath his heavy environment suit. It gave him a sense of peace and vindicated his decision. Nothing ever worth doing, was done right the easy way.

He rose quickly, eager now to continue his search, then promptly hit his head on the shelf above him. The spike atop his helmet promptly punctured the old metal of the shelf with a squeal of rending metal. Annoyed, A-027 pulled to try and free his helmet from the wall. His helmet came free, but with half the wall coming with it. The sound was catastrophically loud and it shattered the quiet stillness and sombre attitude of the hive spire.

A-027 was covered in a mini avalanche of rusted metal, petrified wood and rotten plaster. A-027 erupted from the small mountain of debris, sending wood fragments and plaster flying. Angry now at having looked foolish, A-027 ripped the metal free with one hand braced on his helmet and one pulling the shelf off his head. It came free with a drawn out screech, then squawked as A-027's heavy boot crunched it on the ground. The plaster reduced to paste under the heavy footfalls of A-027 as he marched away stiff backed, rifle unslung. The shadows were still at the edge of his vision, real, but intangible.

A hip check helped open a rusted shut door and A-027 put a boot on the first step experimentally, testing to see if it would hold his weight. It sagged inwards like wet paper, but held. Obviously having something stronger to maintain its shape. A-027 repeated this process, making the trek up the stairs, even to the very next level seem tortuously long.

The second floor was gone. Not in the sense that it was caved through though. No, that honour went to the floor exactly thirty four storeys up, which had caved in the rest below it. Whether through a miracle or that the lobby ceiling was stronger, it hadn't broken through to the lobby. So the trek continued with each floor above the other inaccessible. On the 36th floor, A-027 all but broke the door down, already having had to drag his leg out of several holes that could in fact, 'not' hold his weight. It was bad enough that each time his foot fell through, the nausea and fear of falling to the ground was extreme, but if by some fluke it punctured his suit, he would be a very dead Korpsman.

The rusted door stuck fast into the wall, even the rusted push bar was enough to penetrate the decaying wall. The hallway was empty, the carpets having long ago shed their hair and the walls lost their colour. Once decorative wallpaper having long ago shed its splendour and in places metal, stonework, or even brittle wood showed through. Wall lamps that had been set with chem-globes cast out barely enough light to be seen. A-027 swung his flashlight around, the beam piercing the near gloom and guiding his way.

Holes in the floor above his head did little to ease his apprehension that the floor could hold him. He didn't know why, but A-027 waited until he was nearly halfway down the hallway before picking a room to enter. The door was locked, but a well placed shoulder opened it as well as any key. It was funny in a way, he was acting almost like a delinquent juvie; breaking into homes, causing property damage. The thought almost brought a smile to his face. If only the damned shadows would stop following him.

The inside of the hab had once been nice, but like anything else on the surface, was nothing but an echo of what it had once been. His search was finally over though, for inside the hab was his chip. A whole lot of chips.

There were two larger skeletons, as well as three smaller ones; rags of clothing draped about them like a paupers mannequin on display. A long broken window cast a lonely light into the room, a gap in the crumbling spires allowing in just enough light to see without aid.

The skeletons were all piled in a corner, the smaller laying on top of the larger. With a sudden realization, A-027 knew what these skeletons were. A family.

Had they been here when the bombs fell? Huddled together for comfort or protection as nuclear fire rained outside their very home? Had they taken their own lives rather than see the horrors of what was to come in the aftermath? Or maybe yet, they had died slowly from radiation poisoning, their bodies decaying right before their eyes? It was a fate well remembered on Krieg and why those who survived were more resistant to radiation. It was a natural phenomenon. Luck of the genetic draw. Those who survived had already possessed some inherit resistance to it and there genes were passed on to their children. The amount of radiation that would have been around when these Kriegers were alive, would have cooked a lead Adeptus Mechanicus in an environment suit.

Being so close to his goal now, A-027 almost felt timid. Like he was intruding on something sacred, as if he was a grave robber and not putting them to rest at all, but disturbing them from it. Regardless, orders were orders.

With a precise plunge and pry, A-027 freed a bone chip which he promptly deposited into a glass vial. He turned to go, but it just didn't seem right to leave the others here like this. Alone, separated after being so long together in death. This is a weakness, thought A-027, and yet three more vials were produced and three more chips deposited. A-027 put his rifle to the side as he worked, freeing his hands for the grisly, but necessary task.

A-027 had a sudden revelation as he finished depositing the last chip into a vial. He could get more. It wasn't like he was limited to how many chips he was allowed to gather and the more he found, the more souls that he could put at peace. His good mood was ruined by the sudden feeling of being watched and a hard lump formed in his stomach, even as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It was irrational, but for some primordial reason, he felt in danger.

He reached for his rifle as he turned, feeling the need to protect himself from the perceived danger. He never laid a hang on his rifle. A massive clawed and furred hand closed itself over his mask and head, throwing him like an angry child does a toy. Though a child can't throw a toy through a wall.

It happened so fast and the pain so unexpected, that all A-027 could do was manage a look of surprise behind his mask as he was thrown clean through the wall into the next room. The wall was old, weak and gave easily enough, but it still hurt to go through. A-027 ploughed into an old pict viewer and tumbled end over end, on an ungainly roll on account of his pack. Glass shattered and debris from the wall was thrown all over the room.

A-027 was scrambling for his rifle, when he realized that he had set it against the wall in the other room. He still had his bayonet though. Before he could rise, the creature, the shadow, had already reached him.

It grabbed him and hit him against the ceiling, causing fresh pain to course through A-027's body, but also debris to fall and hit the creature. Some dust or plaster must have landed in its eyes, because it let out a growl and thrust a muscled fur-covered arm in front of its eyes. A-027 used this to lash out with a kick and break free. He rolled backwards and stood dropping his pack to free him up for better mobility.

The creature looked at him with maliciously intelligent yellow eyes, as it brought its claws to the ready. A stalker. A creature that prowled the surfaces of Krieg and had become known shortly after the 'never-ending night.' It was seven feet tall, with long arms and legs. Savagely sharp claws and mind boggling dexterity was its most dominant traits. A-027's greatcoat had several large rips in it, torn by the creatures claws. It was a flak greatcoat, so it seemed that the biology reports hadn't exaggerated at all about their capabilities. The creature was slender, but its claws seemed to be at least a foot in length each. It was mangy, with a flat face and curved back ears. Three claws adorned each foot, but none of that mattered, because A-027 was going to kill this beast.

The creatures hot breath misted in the cold air of the hab as the stalker flexed its claws.. The bayonet caught the light and glinted as it was brought into a fighting stance. The stalker growled lowly and A-027's respirator hissed in response. They rushed each other.

The stalker roared as it charged, a deep yet piercing note that rang strangely clear. A-027 made no sound as he closed the distance besides the thudding of his boots. He ducked the swing of the stalkers claws and gouged it in the side with his bayonet. He quickly slashed the stalker again even as it turned, dark blood almost black burst forth and stained its already dirty and matted fur. It howled in pain and lashed out, batting the bayonet aside and tearing lines into his flak armour. The bayonet was torn from A-027's grip, but before the stalker could attack again he rushed it and tackled it like a star scrumball player straight through the closed door and into the hallway.

A-027 landed on top of the stalker and it struggled to get free. If A-027 had been a smaller man, he might have been thrown off and killed, but as it was he was nearly the same size as the stalker and its height didn't mean it was Herculaneum, but it was close. The stalker stalker hissed, growled and snapped its jaws in his face. The hot breath washing over his mask and its claws continually trying to gut him. It was terrifying, but a part of him had never felt more alive. It seemed to relish in the close and bloody combat.

A-027 hit it exactly as Lord General 01 had taught him and its head rebounded off of the floor beneath them. Dark blood bubbled out of its nose and ran across its face. A clawed hand managed to rake across his mask. Three deep grooves were cut into the dull brass of the mask. For a moment A-027 thought that it had been punctured, but it held true. He didn't know if it had the same anatomy as a human, but it was his only chance. If it got him off of it, then it would be free to gore him as it saw fit.

A-027's fist formed into an open hand, and he put all his weight and power into a palm strike, directed at the creatures already damaged nose. It gave with a sickening crack of bone and the stalker shrieked loudly before another strike finally silenced it. The stalker fell limp, even as dark blood stained the already dirty floor, as well as his gloves.

Suddenly tired, A-027 rolled off the creature and sat with his back to the wall. His heart stopped dead, when he looked more closely at the creature. It had a burn in its right shoulder. A las wound. That was why it had seemed so weak. But he had thought that it was a gargoyle. But if that wasn't a gargoyle- howls suddenly reverberated down the halls and all the spire. Erich could hear footsteps, heavy, fast, inhuman and it was coming his way. As A-027 grabbed his pack, the first stalker rounded the hallway. As he grabbed his rifle, they were halfway to him. A-027 burst into the hallway, running as fast as he could in the direction of the stairwell, popping off a few poorly aimed shots behind him.

Oh, but they were so close. Barely twenty paces behind and closing fast. Leaping from wall to floor, and roof to wall, they were moving as nimbly as any dance acrobat A-027 had ever seen. He primed a grenade and threw it into the mass of flashing claws and slavering maws. Its detonation was magnified in the confined space as hot flame and shrapnel exploded in a whirlwind of death. The defiant floor finally gave way and caved in, encouraged by the detonation, taking many of the shrieking stalkers with it. A lone stalker jumped through the explosion, tackling A-027 through the doorway and into abyss in the centre of the winding stairs. They fell down, down, down.

All he felt was pain. It coursed through his entire body, like a virus it infected every part of his being. Dark serpents clouded his vision as he tried to clear it. He was lying face down, of that he was sure. A-027 pushed himself up on shaky arms and stared into the face of a stalker. It was dead, clear by the lack of anything behind its eyes and the sunken in chest. They fallen through the different landings, the stalker hitting first and absorbing the worst of the fall.

He rolled over on his back and stared up at the stairs, winding ever upwards like a corkscrew, black spots still flashing across his vision, competing with the light leaking in from outside through the cracks in the building. A-027 stared at the flitting shadows, his head still fuzzy with pain and his everything sore. The more he stared, the more A-027 came to realize something in his pain hazed mind. The shadows were only passing over the centre of the staircase, going from side to side. With a shock of panicked adrenaline, he realized that the stalkers were jumping across the gap and getting lower, closer to him.

With a hidden reserve of strength, A-027 threw himself to his feet and ran. He ran for all he was worth, ran faster than he had ever run in his life. His long strides carried him out into the plaza and finally outside, pursued by the howls of the stalkers. Sharp las cracks and more howls, some in rage others in pain, greeted him as he emerged from the spire. There were more.

He couldn't resist a look upwards, then immediately wished that he hadn't. Down the sides of the spire, dozens if not hundreds of the things were climbing down the tower. It was their den, stalkers were a community animal. Where there was one, there was many, many more. This tower must have been their main den and he had disturbed him. None of the gargoyles remained on their perches, fore they hadn't been gargoyles at all.

A-027's feet kicked up dust, dirt and ash as he ran as fast as he could down the street. Tall, dead towers watched his progress with dead eyes, content to watch his fate and leave him to it. The shrieks were all around him, but there was also many las cracks all around. There was still hope. A-027 had what he needed now, so all he needed was to make it back. As he rounded a corner, A-027 almost put a las round through another Korpsman being pursued by a trio of stalkers. He quickly switched his aim to the stalkers behind the Korpsman and put the first stalker down with a well placed shot between the eyes. The other stalker was taken down by a barrage of las rounds from both A-027 and the other Korpsman. Steam rose from the stricken stalkers, but the last closed in, mouth slavering.

A-027 met the leaping stalker with an out-thrust bayoneted rifle. The leap of the stalker and a careful redirection by trooper A-027 sent it soaring over his head and onto the ground behind him. He and the other Korpsman stabbed down with their bayonets, until the stalker was as pockmarked as a plague victim and it stopped struggling. There were still more stalkers though, and a pair of Korpsman wouldn't survive long on their own.

"Follow this trooper and watch his back and he'll watch yours," commanded A-027 even though he didn't have the authority to command anyone. The Korpsman nodded sharply.

"Trooper A-120," he said by way of introduction.

"Trooper A-027."

They moved through the streets, picking up more and more Korpsman until they were at platoon strength with twenty five troopers. Some were dug into store fronts, or locked into brutal hand to hand combat with stalkers. Some they managed to save and others found atonement early. The more firepower they had, the easier it was to keep the stalkers back, no matter their numbers. A stalker made the mistake of showing itself and was literally exploded by 25 las rounds. They moved as a unit, like they had been taught, watching every corner, every possible ambush area. It seemed stupid now that they hadn't done it to begin with. You fought as a unit or you died, it was simple luck if you died or lived in a fight if you did as you were trained. Luck.

That bastard grenadier had known that this was going to happen! Cursed A-027 to himself. He had known what they were walking into, known what was waiting for them. And for what? What purpose would they have to keep this from them? Deep down though, he knew. A-027 knew that it was to teach them this lesson. For a lesson, they were willing to risk an entire company of Korpsman. It seemed like a terrible waste. But a lesson learned like this was never forgotten.

They came upon another platoon beset by stalkers, and they fell upon the beasts from behind. A Korpsman leapt from a pile of rubble and speared a stalker in the skull with his bayonet. Another stalker was blown to pieces by a grenade, and many more were turned to smoking ruin by disciplined las fire. Korpsman were killed too. Suits punctured, run through by claws, torn apart. It was brutal.

The stalkers though, are not a creature to attack large groups, even if they themselves are in one. With the merging of the two platoons, something seemed to trigger in the stalkers brains and they fled. Scampering, running, leaping, moving in any way that they could to escape, pursued by las bolts. When the last las bolt had died away, it was almost serenely quiet, the towers loomed high above them as if wondering which of the Korpsman would join its cadre of the dead.

The Korpsman scanned the surrounding buildings and alleys, looking for any evidence of stalkers waiting, watching just out of sight. No one seemed too keen to move, but A-027 would be damned if he was going to spend the night in this city. They had roughly half the company and they could make it out shortly if they moved now. But that would just leave the other half to die. That wasn't how the guard did things, and standing orders were that if situation allowed, no guardsmen was to be left behind. A-027 could here the stalkers moving just out of sight, now that he knew what to listen for. The shadows at the edges of his vision weren't just shadows, but very real things that did indeed, for lack of a better word, stalk you.

"All right listen up!" called out A-027 like he was the company senior for the day. "There are still Korpsman in there ruins and sons of Krieg don't leave anyone behind. We don't leave until we have every breathing Korpsman with us; the dead can be handled by the quartermasters."

"Trooper, this trooper doesn't believe that you have any authority over us, so stop acting like you are a senior Korps member. It is more tactically feasible to finish out objective, losses are unfortunate, but acceptable in any mission. It was trooper A-004, an average Korpsman, but one who excelled at following every order to the letter. In A-027's opinion, he was also one for only doing whatever he was told and never venturing further. If it wasn't spelled out, then he was sure that trooper A-004 wouldn't do it.

"This trooper doesn't care what you think, but you're right. This trooper doesn't have any authority over you. This trooper only has a dedication to duty that you obviously seem to be lacking. This trooper will no show cowardice by refusing to help its fellow troopers, by refusing to meet the enemy. This trooper has no authority over you, and you have no authority over it. But this trooper will not leave anyone behind." A-027 readied his las rifle with a hum of an activating power cell and marched off in search of other survivors. To a man they followed him, shadows dancing just at the edge of their vision.

The rest of the Korpsmen were easy enough to find. They just had to find the building with the most stalkers prowling around the outside. A few las shots scared them off and left a few dead. Eyes glinted in every alley they passed and were greeted with las shots. Indistinct shapes moved behind windows and the Korpsman shot at them every chance they got, until they realized that they would run out of ammo long before they ever left the city at this rate. So they continued walking, shadowed just out of sight by the prowling stalkers.

The building that the rest of the Korpsman were stranded in, had a wide, large window at the front. It offered a clear field of fire in a 180' arc and copious firing angles. Against a ranged enemy, it was a terrible place to make a stand, but for one that needed to get close, it was just right.

A-027 held up his hand as they approached, and they were allowed entry into the building. It soon became obvious as to why they hadn't moved, there were far too many wounded. None with serious suit breaches, for those were dead. The ones with minor breaches had the holes patched with an adhesive plastic and an anti radiation-chemical cocktail injected into them. The rest had broken bones, or some other kind of impact wound. Their limbs were splinted, or else laid out on any available flat surface to provide comfort as well as firing points. Even wounded as they were, if they wanted to survive, they were expected to fight. The quartermaster was the one to greet A-027.

"Are you the one in charge of this group?" he asked, seemingly unconcerned by the roaming stalkers.

"No, this trooper just couldn't leave other guardsmen behind needlessly. I went looking, the others followed."

"So they all just followed you without question?" asked the quartermaster.

"No, some objected to staying, but in the end they all came," answered A-027. "Krieg doesn't leave its soldiers behind. It would completely undermine the entire cause of our mission if we were to merely only consider our own lives more important than any other. If this trooper may ask quartermaster, what can we do to be of assistance.?"

"Well, I need bodies to help carry the more severely injured. Many of them can walk, but they will need to be protected. Can I count on you Korpman to do this?"

"Yes quartermaster," answered A-027 immediately, chest puffing out slightly. "What is the plan for retrieving the remaining Korpsman. This trooper volunteers to stay behind with a group of others and search."

"There isn't a need trooper, their all dead," said the quartermaster turning to help make the other Korpsman ready for their journey.

"Dead quartermaster? How can we be sure that they are all dead?"

"Because trooper," said the quartermaster, an edge creeping into his voice at being questioned about who was alive and who wasn't that were under his care. "I have an auspex reader with the status of every live Korpsman in the company. Everyone who is alive is here. Now do you need me to repeat myself or is once enough for you? Do you think that you are better qualified than me to make that judgement, that you can try to bully me around like you have these troopers." A-027 was surprised at the accusation. He hadn't tried to bully anyone, least of all a superior in the Korps. He had merely done what he believed was the correct course of action. He hadn't made anyone follow him, with threats or otherwise. Then again, there was a reason that people would look negatively on things he did.

"No quartermaster, this trooper understands."

"Good," said the quartermaster, "But keep that tone out of your voice. You're a trooper."

"Yes quartermaster."

The quartermaster took over officially, yet unofficially. They improvised stretchers and switched between who would carry the wounded and who would watch out for stalker activity. The wounded were in the middle, surrounded by a wall of las rifles and that wall bristling with gleaming bayonets. It took several extra hours, to make it back to where they started from. It was nightfall by the time they made it back to the gate and the stalkers had been becoming ever more bold, running barely twenty paces away from the closes man, and even trying to grab a Korpman at the rear. The light of the las rifles had killed it, and illuminated many more thinking of doing the same thing.

It had grated on their nerves, and they were edgy and tired, but they had made it. The automated defences began firing on the stalkers, causing them to withdraw. Another thing that should have caught his attention, but didn't. The turrets.

Wearily they trudged to the door and waited. It opened, and the wounded were brought in first. After that, those that were inspected were allowed in, a chip as the price. A-027 noticed trooper A-120 lagging back, hesitating to go towards the gate.

"Come on trooper its time to go," said A-027 to A-120. He looked up startled, then looked away as if ashamed.

"This trooper lost its chip when the stalkers attacked. I wasn't able to get another." A-027 knew what had to be done. He walked quickly up to the trooper and reached into his belt by his bayonet. Trooper A-120 readied his rifle, but was surprised when a glass vial with a chip in it was produced.

"Take it and head inside. We've all earned our place in the Korps." A-120 took it hesitantly.

"This trooper didn't get it," he protested.

"Think of it as a replacement."

"But you need one."

"This trooper has extra."

"Thank you."

"There is nothing to thank this trooper for," said A-027 wearily walking to the gate and handing in his chips. He didn't sleep well that night, his dreams filled with shadows that grabbed at him with claws.

AN: Holy that took a long time. I know that these chapter are huge, but when I update I like to actually give enough to read for awhile instead of just a 1000-2000 word blurb. I've read some very good stories that are like that, but to me it just seems like it just whets my appetite. So hopefully this is a good enough chunk (as well as an actually good story) Unfortunately as a consequence, there will be some grammar mistakes or some sentences that don't make sense because I was thinking faster than I could type. Seriously this is 61 pages of text. Saying 'this trooper,' was a pain, but it is probably more in line with the whole Korps idea, so I think it's okay. Doesn't mean I have to like it though, I had to change I to this trooper, way too many times. So, now Erich is a full fledged Korpsman and now can start trying to get revenge on those pesky eldar. Any feedback is appreciated, and if you have any questions, comments, concerns, dirty jokes (Not it the review panel please) let me know and I'll try to fix any glaring grammar problems or canon whoopsies. It will be a long while before the next chapter comes out, but it will be in the same word range as they ones. In case I forgot, I do not in any way shape or form own warhammer or work for black library. Although avoid the book "Emperors finest." If that is the title of the book I'm thinking of, it's not very good. (Shudders) Las guns that can only fire once every few seconds.