Festum Gladius Chapter 49

The rumble of engines filled the landing fields. Familiar growls of Thunderhawks mixed with the throatier rumble of Overlords. They shook the air with vibrations, rattling the bones of anyone too near as the gunships readied for take-off. Under the harsh illumination of the floodlights they shone in their multi-hued heraldry, reds, blues, silvers, greys, whites, purples and many more. Warriors of many Chapters preparing to depart the home of the Storm Heralds and not without acrimony. Of the Red Hunter's craft there was no sign, the mortal pilots had taken the gunships and slunk away in shame, leaving an absence on the field nobody commented upon.

The stars above were drowned out by the harsh lighting, while the sound of the sea could not be heard over the growl of engines. Exhaust and enriched-fuel stenches filled the nose and the ground trembled from the shudder of mighty machinery. It was a sight that would have driven a mortal to weep, clasping their hands over their ears in pain but to a Space Marine it was hardly remarkable, the launch bay of a starship was no stranger to such displays and all had experienced such sensations before. In fact it was almost comforting in its familiarity.

Novak looked over the various craft and wondered when he would see such a sight again. The gathering of two Chapters was a rare occurrence in the galaxy, the confluence of thirty was a wonder to behold perhaps once in a lifetime. Such was the Indomitus Crusade, the rarest of endeavours and a momentous undertaking that would blaze a path across history. For a heartbeat Novak felt a throb of regret that he had turned away from such glory, but he quickly shook off the foolish notion. Under that veneer of splendour the Crusade was a snakepit of feuds, plots and intrigue. Scores of bickering Chapters, hundreds of generals and politicians scheming for advancement. Even without the Red Hunters it had turned out to be a poisoned chalice and he was well rid of it. Guilliman may lead this army to forge a better future but behind closed doors he had brought a slice of Terra's darkness with him.

"Disappointed?" came the voice of Smyth. Novak glanced sideways and saw the Ancient standing proud with the banner of the Third in his hand. Beyond him were other dignitaries, Phalros, Jemiel and more. Behind were stacked ranks of Storm Heralds, waiting in parade formation with bolt rifles held upright before them. A display of honour to farewell the departing Chapters. The whole assemblage waited on the edge of the landing ground, just outside the deafening howl of the throbbing engines as they waved off each party.

Novak considered his words carefully as he replied, "It would have been a life of glory."

"You don't look very sad," Orath growled in his ear from the other side.

It was true, Novak was happy to be seeing the back of the guests but he couldn't reveal that. Nobody could ever suspect he had lost to Iventus on purpose. So Novak hastily set his face still and said, "I missed a chance for glory but I remain in the company of my Brothers. I take solace in that."

Smyth nodded sagely as he said, "Yes, we must cherish our Brotherhood, in the final analysis it is all we truly have."

"Bit fanciful but he's right," Orath added, "We stand as one or perish apart."

Novak smiled as he quipped, "What's this?! You two agree on something, miracles abound."

Smyth carefully stated, "We have formed a working understanding."

Orath commented, "Too right, there are bigger threats out there than we can dream. We can't afford backbiting and sniping in the ranks."

"Who are you and what have you done with Orath?" Novak uttered in mock amazement.

"Don't laugh, this is important," Smyth hissed.

"If you dare mock me I'll smash your skull down into your groin." Orath snapped.

"Ahhh, that more like the Orath I know," Novak teased, "Glad to see you haven't gone soft."

Their conversation was interrupted as the representatives of the Smoke Jaguars paused to speak to Phalros. Words of Brotherhood and blood-debts were exchanged as the two Chapters renewed their ancient alliance. Novak half-listened as the usual pleasantries were made and Phalros offered condolences once more on the loss of their Champion. If the reserved warriors suspected the truth behind their lost Brother they gave no hint of it, as ever keeping their council to themselves. They departed for their Thunderhawk with heads held high but the next Chapter were far less cordial. The Fire Lords stomping past with barely a glance, not deigning to speak to Phalros.

Novak muttered, "Are they trying to insult us?"

Yet Smyth cautioned, "Stay your tongue, the last thing we need is to make more enemies."

But Orath retorted, "We hardly need to try, the Feast was a disaster. Word will spread of these days and we will be painted in the worst light. The Storm Heralds hardly have a sterling reputation and this tragedy will turn many hearts against us. As usual we will be last in line for glory and least in the eyes of the great and powerful."

Novak sighed to himself as the next delegation approached, the Steel Confessors. Novak looked on with interest as Janus limped up, wobbling on a shaft of plasteel for a leg. He had yet to receive a true augmetic yet refused to be pushed about in a wheelchair. So he walked on a metal bar, ungainly but upright and proud, ever proud. The Champion paused to speak to Phalros and exchange ritual greetings but then he lurched on to face Novak.

Janus paused before him and remarked, "So, you yet draw breath."

Novak nodded as he replied dryly, "The galaxy has yet to produce a warrior good enough to kill me."

"So I see," Janus snorted, "Yet still you came second. Strange, we have crossed weapons. I know you're good, too good to fumble a fight with a sloppy move like that one."

Novak stiffened as he said, "Iventus got lucky."

"Luck?!" Janus snorted, "Warriors have no use for luck. Iventus won because you got sloppy and lost your head."

Novak could hardly tell him the truth so stated, "He won for a day, next time we cross blades I shall floor him."

"That's more like it," Janus grinned, "You are strutting peacock Novak, but a fierce fighter and I would be honoured to fight at your side again someday."

"As would I," Novak replied sincerely, "Perhaps the Storm Heralds and Steel Confessors will become allies in the future."

Janus scoffed, "Don't try to flatter yourself, you're no diplomat. Chapter politics are above the heads of our sort. But know this, all debts shall be repaid in blood."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Novak deflected.

"Course you don't," Janus said slyly, "But secrets have a way of getting out and I've seen enough to know what really happened on this island. The Red Hunters have made many enemies and they shall find the Steel Confessors are not forgiving in nature."

With that Janus turned and limped away, boarding a waiting Overlord. Novak sank back in deep thought as they left, wondering what Janus had uncovered and who else he had told. He had held the Red Hunters were getting off lightly but if a fraction of what they had done here became public knowledge the armies arrayed against them would blot out the stars. If he were the Chapter Master of the Red Hunters he would be looking to his defences with a worried eye.

Most of the Chapters had now boarded their craft but one remained. The line stiffened as the Cato Sicarius stepped by, his heraldry perfect and magnificent in all regards. The commander of the Victrix Guard walked with his head held high and his bearing impeccable, regal, glorious and exacting, the exemplar of Ultramarian ideals. At his side walked Iventus, his plate now bearing the unique crests of the Victrix Guard. The victor of the Feast seemed inordinately pleased with himself, a faint smile cracking his stern visage. That he had achieved his life's ambition was obvious and not a hint of doubt as to his future role appeared on his face.

Cato Sicarius stopped before the Storm Heralds and declared, "Sons of the Imperium, we came together to celebrate the joining of hosts under our common gene-father. Though only one soul could ascend to the highest echelons know that every Astartes has his place in the armies of Roboute Guilliman. All should be proud to stand under the aegis of our Imperial Regent. Firstborn or Primaris we are all his leal men and know that he is proud of each and every one of you. I, Cato Sicarius, join him in saying your efforts shall be noted in the wars to come and our sacrifices shall not escape his notice. The Indomitus Crusade soon resumes its campaign to save the galaxy on and we..."

Novak's ear tickled as Orath growled, "Holy throne, he's going to keep us here all day with this pompous speech."

Novak muttered back, "I've never met another Space Marine who's more in love with his own voice than he."

Even Smyth whispered, "He seriously needs to learn how to get on with it."

For long minutes Cato Sicarius waffled on, droning about glory and honour. Finally the endless declamation wound down and the Ultramarines prepared to depart. Yet as they moved off Iventus paused by Novak and said, "Champion, may we meet again and test each other's blades. I would see more of your elegant swordsplay."

Novak was stunned by the remark and could only reply, "I would relish a rematch, your zeal is admirable."

With that they left, climbing into an Overlord and Orath muttered, "That was unexpected."

"I think he admires you," Smyth commented.

"Well, there is much to admire," Novak quipped irreverently.

"Why you little..." Orath snarled.

His retort was cut off by the howling of jet engines, building in power as the gunships prepared to take-off. A strong wind swept over the Storm Heralds, scorching Novak's eyes and making the banners of the Companies billow on their Adamantium poles. Novak squinted but did not sway as landing claws lifted from the ground, gunships floating on pillars of jetwash, then their noses rose. First Cato Sicarius' chariot shot skyward, leaving a scorched patch of earth behind, then the others, one by one ascending into the heavens. The flock of aircraft dwindled as they climbed for orbit, shrinking in moments as the howling of their engines faded. Novak watched as friends, rivals and enemies left the shores of his home, probably never to return. He felt the bittersweet tang of parting but also gladness that he was not among them, he was where he needed to be, with his Brothers in their endless conflicts. So the Feast of Blades ended and the Space Marines returned to their lives of never-ending war.

The End

*The Adventure continues when the Storm Heralds return in Incantator Congressus*