Speculum Enigmate Chapter 50

*Planet Lujan II*

The Fortress-Monastery of the Storm Heralds sat in the icy cold of night, the stars twinkling in a cloudless sky. Many of those motes of light were moving, for they were in fact ships breaking orbit. The vessels of many Chapters were departing Lujan II, Mortifactors, Howling Griffons, Praetors of Orpheus, NovaMarines, Smoke Jaguars, Red Hunters and more. Their business concluded they turned their prows towards deep space, thrusting away at top speed.

In the Fortress-Monastery the life of the Storm Heralds returned to normal. Endless preparations for war being enacted. Drills were run, recruits were selected and implanted, weapons were blessed and consecrated and rituals millennia old were performed. Many of the new Primaris inductees stumbled over the ritual phrases, still becoming accustomed to the traditions of their new Chapter. For their part the older Astartes eyed the taller warriors warily and their new war machines with suspicion, few among them having seen them in action yet. Despite the best efforts of the Masters, distrust and suspicion would mar the Chapter for many years to come, but at least they weren't shooting at each other.

Persion and Jediah watched this playing out as they walked through the boulevards of their home. To Persion it seemed odd how much his attitude had changed. In only a few weeks he had led both breeds of Transhuman to war, seen them fight and die and save each other's lives in the white heat of battle. Bonds had been forged and trust built, but the rest of the Chapter had yet to experience that. Strange, he thought, he had learned a great deal in a short time and the Marine who had returned to his home was not the same one who had left.

The squads sent to Pascum had made rapid progress through the Immaterium, the warp current that was the Saint Karyl Trail proving steady and swift as always. Over the passage of their journey they had laboured to hone their skill, practising manoeuvres they had learned and making what repairs they could. The squads had been in good humour but they had been saddened by loss. Brothers of both orders had been lost and their passing had been mourned. Yones' loss stung especially, and Persion swore once more to exact vengeance. He was sure a reckoning with his killer was inevitable.

Suddenly Jediah commented, "Looks like we missed something."

"Indeed," Persion replied eyeing the sweating labours of the serfs, "It seems the Feast of Blades was more eventful than expected."

Jediah didn't reply but Persion eyed him. The other Lieutenant had fought hard in the battles and it showed. Persion's plate had been battered and scored but Jediah's was wrecked. No amount of buffing and polishing could disguise the rents and tears marring its smooth surface and the loud growling of the Machine Spirit every time he took a step. The plate would surely require returning to the Forges for repair but Jediah had made a point of keeping his fan-blade, he seemed to like the razor-sharp implement.

As they walked Persion spied Brother Novak strolling towards them, his helm free to reveal his burnt features. Persion frowned as he saw the Champion's armour was almost as battered as his own and called out, "Novak, what happened? You look a mess."

"You can't talk," Novak retorted as he strolled nearer, "You look like you had a fight with a trash compacter and lost."

Persion paused to ask, "I feel like we missed something. What happened at the Feast of Blades?"

Novak sniffed, "Problems arose, were confronted and overcome. I'll tell you about it later."

Persion cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I have to see Smyth about a thing," Novak said as he resumed walking, "Give my regards to the Chapter Master!"

Novak wandered off with a jaunty step and Persion muttered, "He seems more pleased with himself than usual."

Jediah merely grumbled, "Come, else we shall be late."

Persion sighed and they resumed their march. Swiftly they made their way through the towering buildings and hangers of the Fortress-Monastery. They walked under the silhouette of orbital defence lasers, which blotted out the stars with their bulk and soaring Templums, heavy with golden embellishments. They skirted the Librarian's Tower, giving it the traditional wide berth. They even crossed the path of a bunch of Neophytes marching before a mostly augmetic training instructor. They were following the golden footsteps of the 'Primarch's Walk', a new feature commemorating the tour Roboute Guilliman had taken of the Storm Herald's home. The shaven-headed youths walked in coarse robes, shivering in the cold night air as they gazed upon the sacred ground where their Gene-Father's feet had trod and mediated upon the path he had laid out for the Chapter.

Eventually their march brought them to the Chapter Master's Minaret and a pair of Honour Guards in their tradition eagle-winged helms waved them through. The Lieutenants stepped inside a grav-lift and were whooshed upwards, flying past level after level until they reached the summit of the tower. They alighted without a qualm, entering the Chapter Master's reception hall. This was the first time Persion had visited so lofty a place and he took in the room with a glance. A broad space was set out, with marble floors and arched armourglass windows looking over the Fortress-Monastery. The walls between were hung with banners, ponderous with the weight of history and marks of famous victories. Trophies of the Chapter's most notable kills were displayed on short pedestals, glimmering in the light of stasis fields. The Ork Warlord Nek'snappa's power Klaw, the spear of the Revenant Dauphin and Persion was pleased to note the head of Vorshaan the Dusk Prince was amongst the collection, his dead eyes staring eternally in despair. Then a pair of withered servitors, their mouths hanging wide to reveal rotten teeth, squawked mechanically to announce their arrival to the room.

Three Storm Heralds awaited the pair and Persion saw the tallest among them was First Captain Jemiel. The Primaris officer was magnificent in his pristine armour and he loomed over the room with a stern glower. The other was the far more welcome sight of Third Captain Toran, his red cloak torn and frayed in many places and fresh scars marred his armour. Persion wondered where he had acquired the damage but had no time to ask for the third soul demanded his attention. In a black throne sat Chapter Master Phalros the Pure, the ultimate authority in the Storm Heralds. His patrician features were set in an unreadable mask and his armour gleamed, from the Iron Halo over his head to the ponderous Power Fist on his right arm.

Persion and Jediah bowed deeply to their masters and the Lieutenant said, "My lords, we come as summoned."

"Rise," Phalros said graciously, "Brothers Persion and Jediah, we have been discussing your report. Your mission to Pascum turned out to be far more eventful than anticipated."

Jemiel glared as he said, "A simple diplomatic mission and somehow you two managed to start a war."

Persion should have been shamed by the rebuke but he'd had enough of soft talk, if he'd learned one thing it was he hated decorum and diplomacy. He drew in a breath and retorted, "The Genestealers started the war, we finished it."

Jemiel bristled at being talked back to but Toran intervened, "Indeed, we can hardly hold our Brother responsible for the enemy's actions. They conducted themselves magnificently and rose to the occasion, as I knew they would."

Jemiel's eyes narrowed as he snapped, "You coddle your Marines, ignoring their mistakes and errors. You play favourites with your old comrades."

Persion butted in to say, "The Captain is not at fault, if you have a rebuke you can say it to our faces."

Jemiel's lip curled as he snapped, "Impudent wretch."

Yet Jediah countered, "We're not novices you have to lead about by the nose. You can drop the good captain, bad captain routine."

There was a short snort of amusement from Phalros and he said, "Spoken like true warriors, bold and direct. Very well, Toran, Jemiel we can dispense with the pleasantries and get straight to business. Brother-Lieutenants, your mission reports make for troubling reading, much was irregular in your conduct and yet it is hard to argue with the results. We sent you to secure Aleys Bassail's rule and you did so. A Genestealer cult arose and was defeated, your duel with the Patriarch alone warrants commendation. Plus we learned several interesting things about our new Primaris paradigm."

Toran added, "Apothecary Memnos has sent copious records of his findings, the Apothecarion's understanding of the new Gene-seed type has grown. His warnings against interfering with the Furnace have been distributed to all Apothecarys."

Jemiel added, "The Pascum rebellion has been put down while you sailed. Jaric Phoros has scoured the planet and is eager to return to the Crusade. He sends Astropathic missives requesting Imperial Guard garrisons be sent to collect the Emergency Tithe."

Persion frowned as he asked, "The Tithe continues?"

Phalros nodded, "Indeed, the Administratum does not let little things like wars get in the way of their tax collections. The planet will be stripped for every coin it owes and the populace will lament their rebellion. All traitorous officers and officials have been executed and any common rebel who survived to surrender has been condemned to form a Penal Legion. They will repay the Emperor for their sins by dying in the glory of battle."

Jediah asked, "What of the Eldar knave?"

Toran stated, "If any Company crosses paths with this Warp Spider he will die, he is now an enemy of the Storm Heralds.

Persion protested, "I volunteer to lead a kill-team to hunt him down."

Jemiel however countered, "Sadly we have no leads to follow. We must let the Inquisition deal with him, we have concerns closer to home."

Phalros nodded, "Indeed, your conduct was unorthodox but victory is victory. To our surprise we find we must applaud your performance. You have earned your places, both of you."

Toran smiled broadly as he said, "Persion, I am pleased to award you the permanent rank of Lieutenant. You shall continue in the Third as a leader of Marines. We have a special reward, a treasured relic weapon…"

Persion lifted an augmetic hand and said, "Save it, I want no fancy toys or badges. Simply let me serve as a tactical officer and I will be content."

"Really?" Jemiel asked in surprise, "You turn down laurels?"

Persion smiled warmly and patted the Friction Axe on his hip as he said, "My axe served me well and I wish for no other weapon at my side. Let me wield it in battle and I shall count myself honoured enough."

"Surprisingly noble," Jemiel slowly remarked, "Perhaps I was wrong about you."

Toran concurred, "A kill-team leader you shall be. But Jediah, for you there is a special gift."

Jediah's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he said, "Why am I not filled with eagerness."

Toran grinned in amusement as he reassured, "Worry not, we merely recognise your unique contribution to the victory. You took a squad of Reivers and turned them into a disciplined and effective force."

"A first," Jemiel muttered, "I've never seen anyone manage that before."

Phalros took up the narrative and said, "It seems your skills are wasted in your current role. You have unique talents and a singular skill. Therefore we are proud to bestow upon you the rank of Vanguard Lieutenant."

"Vanguard?" Jediah asked warily.

Jemiel explained, "Taken from a rather obscure passage from the new Codex Imperialis. It builds on the idea of the Reiver squad to create a formation dedicated to covert operations, sabotage and assassination. A Vanguard formation is expected to range deep behind enemy lines, conducting wide-ranging campaigns of disruption and terror. You will be expected to get behind the line, raise hell and counter anything the enemy can throw at you."

Persion grinned as he remarked, "Sounds a perfect role for you Brother."

Jediah didn't smile but he did say, "I'll need more troops, one squad of Reivers won't be enough."

Toran wasn't put out as he explained, "A small selection of assets from Tenth Company will be attached to the Third, as a supporting force. We can work out the details later. But first we need to address your armour."

"My armour?" Jediah queried.

Phalros explained, "Mark VII plate is too cumbersome and noisy, your own reports show this to be true. The Codex Imperialis demands Vanguard forces employ Phobos plate, but that is only fit for Primaris. Thankfully we have an alternative."

A scuffling noise came from the grav-lift as a litter rose into sight, born by two servitors. Upon that bier was laid out a most curious suit of armour. To Persion's eye it looked like someone had tried to forge a suit that was half traditional armour, half scout plate. The breastplate and pauldrons were Mark V plate but the legs and abdomen were thinned down greatly. The helm was fronted by an angular sweep, almost like a cross between Mark VI and Mark III and the backpack was far more compact than usual. It had several features of Phobos armour added on and the Storm Herald's icon was on one pauldron while the other bore a chained skull.

"What is this?" Jediah asked.

Phalros explained, "Several millennia ago a disgraced Techmarine tried to forge what he called 'Mark IX' armour. It was a failure, as were most of his heretical inventions, but the armour was preserved as a curiosity."

Jemiel added, "Thankfully our Primaris Techmarines deemed it salvageable and used their superior knowledge to correct the errors in the design. You will find it far more suited to stealth operations than your current plate."

Perison wouldn't have trusted an untested Heretek invention but Jediah merely nodded as he stated, "It will do."

Toran smiled broadly and said, "Then use it well. You have made us proud, both of you."

Phalros added, "We shall be watching you with keen interest and I expect you to keep accumulating victories."

Persion got the message. The Chapter Master was willing to give him a chance but it was up to Persion to prove himself, if he screwed up there would be no favouritism for him. Persion's future rested in his hands, which suited him well, he wouldn't have it any other way. The Storm Heralds would need him to excel and he intended to live up to his new rank. Only one thing troubled him.

Persion faced his masters and proclaimed, "I shall not fail you, I intend to prove myself equal to the task. I shall prove my worth, no matter what stands against us. All I ask is one thing."

"What do you desire?" Phalros asked.

"Keep me at the sharp end of the battle," Persion answered, "I loathe diplomacy."

*The adventure continues when the Storm Heralds return in Festum Gladius*