The Marshall

Chapter One

009-M42
0600 TERRA TIME

EMPEROR-CLASS BATTLESHIP "The Roar of Cthonia"

SEGMENTUM OBSCURUS

A soft sound, similar to that of a chirping bird, breaks through the silence and darkness of the room. As if on cue, a warm light switches on, illuminating a modest room with little decoration aside from a shelf full of various, random items. In the corner, near a screen displaying a live image of a paradise world in the early morning, was a bed with the large frame of an Astartes sleeping under a thin sheet. The Astartes shifted and rolled over before he pulled the blanket back and sat up. He rolled his neck and shoulders, filling the empty room with cracks and pops as he shook the vestiges of sleep off of him, then yawned as he stood up and stretched more.

"Lord Marshall, Ship status is green, crew functionality at one hundred percent. There is an alert awaiting yours and the Lord Admiral's attention on the bridge." A robotic voice came from the speaker next to the door of his room. The Astartes smiled and walked to his shelf before picking up one of the various items. "Good morning to you as well, Rora." Constantine said softly, using the nickname the ship's enginseer had given the machine spirit of The Roar of Cthonia, the legion vessel he currently commanded. I need to remember to thank that enginseer for giving her a voice. He thought to himself, afterall, the ship's effectiveness in combat had never been better, since that had been done.

His attention went back to the object in his hand, a framed image of a mountain sticking out of a forested area with a city nearby, and the faint words San Francisco Peaks written on it. As he looked over it, his vision faded and the sounds of children echoed in his ears as he remembered his childhood deep in the London underhives on Terra. The day he found this image was the day he and his sister had been left on their own when their parents had sold them to a gang so they could afford to move higher in the hive. That was the day, they had learned that they can only really rely on each other. He gave a sad smile as he remembered his emotions that day, nigh on three centuries ago. He remembered his sister comforting him as he cried, and then the promise they made each other to never abandon one another.

His attention then shifted to a necklace resting next to the frame as he set it back down. He gathered the chain up and carefully wrapped it around his wrist like a bracelet, since his neck was far too wide for the necklace anymore, and he refused to get the chain replaced. As he wrapped around his wrist, the scent of blood and gunsmoke filled his nose. No longer was he an Astartes warrior, standing in his quarters, instead he was an eleven year old boy, standing amidst bodies, with his sister's lifeless corpse below him. He tasted blood in his mouth from biting into the throat of one of the various gangers that lay dead around him and he stared down the remaining seven. Each of them raised their weapons at him, ready to kill the young boy until a booming voice echoed behind him, metallic and gravelly. "You have thirty seconds to leave this place before you become another notch on my crozius." The voice warned and the seven gangers all froze in fear. The boy could almost hear the ticking of a clock, counting down until the voice behind him acted. Before thirty seconds had passed, all of the gangers sprinted away from the boy. He didn't move, his body betrayed him as he looked down at the lifeless face of his sister, before collapsing to his knees and gathering her up into his arms. She had died, protecting him from the large group that had stopped them, and he didn't get to kill them all… they all deserved to die, but he couldn't bring himself to let go of her. A loud thud shook him from his concentration on her, and he looked up into a face of death. Before him knelt a massive, armored figure, clad in a pale, deep green armor, with a skull for a face. He then spoke once more, but where once the voice carried the threat of violence, it now only held the promise of comfort. "You are safe now, child." It said before its gaze shifted down to the body he clutched in his arms. "Who was she?" It asked, while reaching out and gently placing its massive hand on her shoulder, its thumb hooking into her necklace. "M-m-my s-sister." The boy said, his voice cracking as fresh tears flowed down his face. The sound of a chain snapping could be heard and the boy felt his hand being turned over and the necklace his sister wore, being pressed into his hands. "She was a protector, wasn't she?" The boy nodded his head in response to the voice's question and clutched onto the necklace that was now in his hands. The figure in front of him shifted its weight to stand up and the boy finally lifted his head to look at the figure in all of its glory, lit up by the firelight of several garbage fires near him, and its hand outstretched towards the boy. "Then you are her legacy. Come with me, and you can be everyone's protector, in her name." The boy took the figure's hand and helped himself to his feet, coming face to face with the symbol on their chest….

The very same symbol he now found himself staring at on the necklace wrapped around his wrist, The Eye of Horus, a symbol of eternal vigilance for those chosen to bear the title Sons of Horus. The Astartes smiled and took his eyes off the necklace and moved to the next item on his shelf, a scroll of paper with a wax seal at the top. An Oath of Moment, a litany of promises one made that they would carry out in the battle they were deploying to. The warrior had plenty of his own, but this wasn't his. This one belonged to the first warrior he ever served under, the veteran sergeant that made him into the warrior he was today. It was from the last deployment the sergeant would ever fight on, and he still remembered the final words that sergeant had ever said to him. Everyone dies, my boy, it's how you live that matters. Will it be by the sword? Or will it be on your knees? Me? I chose the sword… And I don't regret a single moment of it, brother.

Those words still echoed within him, with every swing of his sword, and every step he took, he remembered why he chose the sword, not as a tool of vengeance, but rather as a tool of protection. With that his attention turned to three other items. A journal he hadn't touched for nearly four decades, a unique brown hat that had a high top and a brim that curved up on the sides, and an oath of moment with the seal of the Deathwatch on the wax. These were remnants from the time he spent in servitude to the Ordo Xenos. The journal was his collection of mission logs and memories, something he made sure to keep when he suddenly found himself the impromptu Watch Master of his sector for nearly three decades. He stepped down during an investigation by the Inquisition as to his ineptitude as a leader. All evidence found was that which supported his skill and wisdom, but he still felt his duty to the watch was done and that it was time to return home to his legion. The hat was a gift from an old friend during those days. He remembered the raucous laughter from him, an old World Eater chaplain, and a young skitarii as they shared a drink to celebrate his retirement from the watch and return to his legion. Somewhere in all that drinking, the skitarii had placed the hat upon his head before promptly passing out, showing that even the augmentations of the Mechanicus, could not keep up with the metabolism of an Astartes. He kept the hat as a reminder of the camaraderie he had with the people of that sector. The Oath was given to him from the Chaplain, a man who had become a steadfast friend of his. They had both saved each other plenty of times over and leaving was bittersweet for him, as he never knew if he would see his old friend again in the galaxy.

This brought the Astartes to the final object on his shelf. A Star of Terra. This was one of his favorites in his collection, it was a medal given to members of the Astra Militarum and the highest honor they could receive. It wasn't even his medal, rather it was given to him by a hero of the Imperium, Caiaphus Cain. He had risked his life to save the legendary Commissar during the fall of Radan, to the onslaught of a tyranid hive fleet. The commissar ended up saving his life as a hive tyrant bore down on the wounded Astartes and a melta grenade went off in it's face, followed by a volley of weapons fire. And the commissar stood over his prone body and helped him to his feet. In the Thunderhawk transport, Cain gave him the Star, saying, I could give thanks, but that is not enough for the fact you saved me and all of those civilians, so… here. And he had smiled before taking it, replying with The fact you and them are all alive is more than enough thanks for me, Commissar Cain, but I accept your gift regardless.

Just then his journey into the past was interrupted as the speaker in his room went off abruptly. "My Lord Marshall. If you could please get dressed, I request your presence on the bridge. It is urgent." Spoke the gruff and not very smooth voice of the Lord Admiral. The Astartes straightened up and hit a switch on his wall, opening an alcove that held two servitors and an armor cradle with his war gear. The servitor gave a nod, confirming it had done the proper litanies to ensure his armor and it's machine spirit were ready for use. Then he stepped into the cradle and let the servitors get him into the undersuit and put the armor onto him.

—

The doors to the bridge open and in walked a massive warrior clad in white and black armor, a gilded Eye of Horus on his chest, an embroidered white cloak with a black wolf's head hanging over a gray crescent moon, and a beautiful sheath leading up to hilt made to look like a wolf running up the backside of the weapon and a chain leading to his left arm where it wrapped around multiple times before being connected to the upper end of his vambrace. The warrior walked to the center of the bridge where a smaller man, dressed in the elegant uniform of the Imperium's Navy, stood at attention. The warrior moved his eyes to him and gave a soft smile.

"Lord Admiral Del'Rousse, I trust everything is alright?" He asked, hinting at the request the Admiral had made earlier. "In our sector, Marshall Hoyal? Yes everything is alright. However we received a general call for assistance from Brigannion IV." The Admiral replied as he walked over to the navigation table, gesturing for Hoyal to follow him.

"Brigannion? Talion, you must be joking. I have never known Havi to be the one to admit when he needs help. The Warden of Brigannion relies on nothing but his Iron Warriors and hardy Brimlocks." The Marshall said as he thought about the steadfast son of Perturabo that defended the fortress world. Talion chuckled at the candiness of Hoyal, something he had always enjoyed about the Young Wolf that had been assigned command of the Legion vessel they now stood in the bridge of.

"You may be right, Constantine. However, according to the report attached to this call for aid, scouting parties were discovered on the planet, scouting parties made of members from various traitor legions all working together. Confirmed sightings are of Dark Angels, Salamanders… and Blood Angels." Talion explained, watching as the Marshall tensed at the mention of the Blood Angels. Something the admiral had noticed was that every Son of Horus bore an immense hatred towards the traitorous sons of Sanquinious. For good reason. They were the reason that so many of them had died during the Siege of Terra and the death of Horus, their primarch and gene-father. A period of brief silence fell between them before Constantine selected the Brigannion system. "Talion, relay the coordinates to the fleet, and have our master of the vox reply to Havi, let him know that the Sixteenth Legion will answer his call." The Young Wolf said before he turned and walked away, leaving the bridge. War was on the horizon and he needed to make sure his wolves were hungry.