Hestus Borsod could have been an astartes, he was an unnaturally tall and broad man, hugely muscled and tireless he physically resembled the sons of the Primarchs in many ways, but when he said he could have been an astartes he was not referring to his physical form but the events of his life. Hestus had been born on Inwit twenty years after the arrival of the Imperial Expeditionary fleet over that world and after the Lord of the Inwitian Empire had been revealed to be a son of the Emperor of Mankind. To many it was not surprise to learn that Lord Dorn would be the son of such a god-like being. It was in his sixth Terran year that they had taken him. Taken was…an ugly word, his family was of a scavenger clan that lived in the shadow of the Ice Hives, a hard life but given their vassalage to the Ice Clan they always knew that they could rely on the charity of the Ice Clan to make it through a bad season. It had been the clan's traditional rest day when the deep thumping knock came against the seal of their hab-dome and when their father had opened the hatch they had been confronted in great slabs of gray armor in the shape of a man accented in brass and golden yellow iconography. He'd heard his mother whisper "astartes" which made no sense to him at the time then make the crux across her chest as his father gestured at the giant agape at the size of the being.
"I bring greetings from our Lord Dorn." The giant boomed, "it is my duty to inform you that your son has been called for the aspirant muster of the seventh legion."
He remembered mother had grown faint at this, her knees falling out from under her as she collapsed to the floor of the hab-dome, his father had dropped to his knees and plead, "Please, lord, he is our only son, our only child…"
He knew now that in some legions he would have been ripped away from them with nothing further said and intense violence had his parents attempted to interdict but in this case the giant had lifted one hand in a placating gesture, "Please, remain calm, mayhaps we may talk a moment and I will lay out our lord's case."
They talked for a while, none of it made any sense to him at the time and he still could not remember the nature of the conversation but his parents had finally relented with tear filled eyes. What he remembered more than anything though was the giant taking off his helmet and kneeling down to look him in the eyes, his face was lined and scarred but he grinned with a mouth of half-steel teeth with a twinkle in his eye and said, "What do you say, boy? Want to become as big and strong as me?"
Of course he did, what boy of six wouldn't?
As they left the hab the giant wrapped a big fur around him and handed him up to another of his kind leaning out of the hatch of an armored vehicle and before he ducked down to see what mysteries the vehicle held he witnessed the giant handing his father great bundle of what looked to be blankets, he knew now they consisted of rations, blankets, clothes, and carefully hidden fertility aids to ensure that they could conceive more children and he had heard the words he spoke even as he ducked down in the tank with a parting wave, not really understanding what was happening at the time. The warrior had said, "Give him some little brothers and sisters and tell them when they look up to the stars that their eldest brother fights to ensure their protection and a prosperous way of life."
And he did just that, he had now for fifty five years and once he had actually managed to see them all again, his mother and father old now, but he had three brothers and two sisters and thirteen nieces and nephews and he could still remember it all, the familial connection, because he had not become an Astartes. The first few organ implantations had been successful and he had recovered quickly but when the hypnotraining and indoctrination began, there was an issue.
It was not the sort of issue many aspirant boys endured, rejection and mind-burn-out from the hypnotic implantation often resulted in the boys being rendered servitor meat or being subsequently destroyed, rather, in Hestus' case, it had simply not worked. He experienced no pain, no sickness, no debilitation, but neither did he benefit, the hypnotic training simply did not work on him. The Biologans and apothecaries had initially been baffled by this, it was not until a battery of tests had been performed it was learned he had inherited an ancient and rare gene that prevented hypnotism, the flashing of lights or rhythmic applications of low frequency tones were little more than slightly annoying sensory input for him. They continued to train him through physical teaching for a number of years until it became readily apparent that while he did possess the physical robustness and genetic purity the Astartes desired; he could not reach the martial proclivity despite his best efforts and those of his trainers. He spent the next fifteen years assisting the legion in the armorium as legion menial to their forge master until his proficiency with the mechanical components of armor and weapons was identified. He was promoted to the level of Armorer Tertia and given the task of working directly on the armor and weapons of the astartes he had once been so close to becoming and spent the next fifteen years doing just that. He existed in a strange middle ground between the mortal servants of the legion and the astartes masters, he lived among the "mortal" crew despite being at least partially astartes himself, his life span functionally quadrupled by dint of his enhanced physique and robustness. He had gone to war beside them, standing the field of battle during compliance after compliance, augmented in the heaviest of carapace, bearing forth a bolter of his own when such was called for and repairing armor and weapons in the field where needed.
It was in his first year as Armorer Secunda that he met the woman who would become his wife. Requiring one fourth the sleep of a normal human he took to performing extra duty tasks for the upkeep and maintenance of the Phalanx, hoping that in so doing he might eventually rise to the rank of Armorer Primus working side by side as equals with the astartes selected as apprentices to the Master of the Forge. Another menial technician and he had been performing maintenance on a bulkhead to the menial quarters in the bowels of the Phalanx with the man had lost his grip on a las-torch while attempting to turn it off and it had burned a deep gouge through Hestus' forearm. He was unsure what to do, the benefit of his largely astartes physiology was the he knew the wound would heal, but in the mean-time he had a three inch deep gouge through the muscle of his arm. He wasn't certain if he should go to the apothecaries, who would doubtlessly question why he was performing duties not specifically prescribed to him or the medicae who might not know what to do with astartes physiology.
She had sutured up the wound in his arm and told him to return the following ship-day so they could check for infection, of course by then the wound had healed but she insisted he return the following day so they could check again, at that point he assumed it was just because she wanted to see him again. Within a year they were married by the administratum tracking clerk and deep in the ship they had the unofficial ceremony in accordance with the Catheric beliefs she had been raised with and the ancient Inwiti Orthodoxy that was occulted through the legion in the crux iconography among the Templar brethren and Lord Dorn's own heraldry. Less than a year later their first son was born, and once again the legion came around for the tithe of sons, he still remembered it was Kye who came to their door on his seventh year and asked if they would allow him to become a son of Dorn like Hestus had almost been. But this time neither balked for Hestus knew that Dorn had guided the training and recruitment of his sons with a subtly gentle hand that resulted in far fewer deaths of aspirants when compared to other legions and his son was a very hearty boy owing to his own genes and the subtle manipulation of pre-geneseed organ implantation. At seven he was as big as some boys twice his age and while he inherited his strength and industriousness from him, from his mother he inherited studiousness and intellect. Two years after he was taken they had a daughter and another son three years later, then a third son just before they received unofficial word their son had received the geneseed and would be receiving his black carapace to join the legion as an astartes and Son of Dorn. It was not typical parents received this sort of word of a child taken by the legion, but he had almost been a battle brother of the Fists and in this the astartes of the VIIth seemed to feel sympathy and kinship with Hestus.
Fifteen years after their son had been taken to join the legion he had been assigned to the Phalanx as part of Lord Rann's Siege Breakers and they had seen him again as his company arrived from a compliance where they had been attached to the legion of Horus Lupercal and The Olympian Perturabo, and more to the surprise of he and his wife, their son still remembered them. Sometimes he came down to the level of their quarters and would visit, at first their children had wondered why the Imperial Fist legionnaire, huge and proud in his armor or bedecked in the tunic bearing the twin axes of the Siege Breakers, came to their three room quartering block and it had been much to their surprise when he had smiled and said, "I am your older brother." They had never told them of their older sibling for fear that he would die in the aspirant trials and to reveal his existence to siblings only to find out he had died would wound the children. He had embraced his siblings on that day and they had once again become a family, even though their eldest son now had two fathers…Hestus who had sired him, and Dorn who had remade him.
At present their daughter was attending one of the schola on Araeneus having been identified as possessing the potential for medicae aptitude and their second son was strongly mulling seeking billeting with the Naval Armsman Contingent in the expeditionary fleet. As he returned from the armorium prima he could smell the cooking in their habitation section before he'd even entered the corridor leading to his family quarters. No sooner had he entered the hatch he was greeted by the sight of his second son cooking while his wife fussed over the direction he gave her on cutting up a root vegetable for the dish he was preparing. Armsman be damned, he should seek to become a coquusi on Terra for his talent for the culinary could land him a place in the kitchens of the Imperial Palace. He had just closed the hatch and hung this thick leather craftsman's apron on a coat hook he had fashioned from scrap when a resounding knock came to their hatch. He turned and opened it in surprised and saw a pair of astartes bearing the black scapula with the white Oath Brazier Icon of the Archamusians standing at the entrance, their hands resting casually on their maglocked weapons.
"Armorer Primus Hestus Borsod, Medicae Secunda Deidra Cole-Borsod?" The voice came through their vox speakers.
All the talking had ceased and no sounds were present save the sizzling of the food their son was preparing, the environmental control fans, and the hum of the astartes' power armor.
"Y-yes?" Hestus finally answered.
"We must politely ask that you come with us, please." The other declared.
Brother Zebulun was an astartes, hand selected from a multitude of youths for genetic purity, robustness, mental disposition and intrepidity for his age. He had undergone the long and oft painful process of change that was the path that aspirants walked on the chance that they may become an astartes. Hypnoindoctrination then the surgeries and more hypnoindoctrination followed by the grueling training then by more surgeries and more training on and on and on as he watched the numbers slowly be whittled down from one hundred to eighty, then eighty to fifty, then fifty to thirty. Of those that had been alive or had not washed out after receiving the gene-seed only twenty four received the black carapace. By the end of their first year of line company duty they were still twenty three, but he imagined that would soon drop off and some day he may come to be the last of the hundred that had begun the process.
Such was their way and he felt no reticence in continuing the cycle until his time came to fall in battle, then his gene seed would be harvested and new aspirants would receive it to continue serving their lord and sire, Rogal Dorn. And Zebulun would have it no other way, the part of him that still remembered what it was to be purely human felt pride that he was an astartes, pride that he was considered worthy of being a son of Dorn.
Rogal Dorn looked up from the Data slate to the astartes warrior before him, "Do you know why I have called you here, Zebulun?"
The young astartes attention snapped back to his Lord, disquieted, "I am not certain on that count, lord."
Dorn lifted the slate and waved it up and down where it perched between his index finger and thumb, "The reports of the Apothecaries indicate you have been losing weight, your body mass is down one and thirty eight hundredths of a percent in the last month."
Zebulun said nothing, he just kept his chin high but Dorn could see him swallow.
"Zebulun…"
"Lord?"
"Do you want to tell me why?"
"My lord-" the words died in the young warrior's throat.
"Would you like me to ask your parents?"
Zebulun's mouth opened but before a sound could issue forth the hatch slid open and his parents were ushered in by Captain Kye who waited for but a moment for a nod from Dorn then left the office attached to the Primarch's quarters.
"Hestus Borsod…" Dorn intoned, "I remember your parents."
The demi-astartes nodded and spoke in a choked tone, "I was almost one of your sons, Lord Dorn."
"I remember." He replied, "A rather peculiar genetic lack of sensitivity to light attenuation made you incapable of receiving the hypnotraining."
"I was a poor soldier without it, lord."
Dorn arched a brow, "To the contrary, your scores in every martial competency would have made you an exceptional soldier, just a below average astartes, the hypnotraining conveys much that simple instruction cannot. Any auxilia tithe would have been fortunate to count you in their number and your performance in the battles to which you were privy was praised as excellent."
The small mortal woman, relatively speaking when in a room with two giants and the colossus Lord Dorn was, spoke up, "If I may ask, why are we here, lord Dorn?" She was mulling whether she should drop to her knees, curtesy or just keep her head bowed and the mental indecision had her fidgeting.
Dorn looked back over to Zebulun, "You have been taking half allotted evening ration to your parents and blood-siblings, have you not Zebulun?"
Both parents glanced to their astartes son then lowered their eyes, but Zebulun spoke before they could say anything, "I have, lord. I will accept whatever punishment you deign fit, lord, but please do not-"
"No one will be punished, Zebulun, it is not a thing deserving of a punishment." He mollified.
"Lord?" The astartes shifted his head to stare at the Primarch.
"Am I a cruel lord and father, my son?"
What a question? But Dorn would never brook a lie, nor would he dismiss the critique out of course, not when spoken from the lips of one of his gene sons. "Ours is a cruel method, lord, but it is tempered in practicality. I would never presume you to be cruel, but ours is to be cruel so that others do not have to be, ours is also a method of discipline."
"By depriving yourself to your physical detriment, but persisting in your duty without once alerting your brothers or commanders to an area of concern, I would dare to say you have demonstrated discipline, Zebulun." Dorn answered with almost paternal tenderness layered under the steely resolve for which his legion was most famed. "I cannot have sons of my own, so your parents were kind enough to bless me with theirs so that you could become my son. I do not begrudge the love of a son for his birth parents and it gives me pride to know you have done this in the spirit of charity, love, and a son's sense of duty. I know you Zebulun, as I know all my sons, and I know you have a sense of charity in you, a thing given without concern because there was need. I know you as well, Hestus, as a son of Inwit that would never ask charity of another and would repay in equal measure item for item or morsel for morsel by goods or deeds."
Ten years prior the administratum had audited the book-keeping of the Imperial Fists' fleet and discovered what they called "anomalous" taxation records of certain families. What they did not know was that this was the result of an old Inwit tradition that persisted in the fleet that you did not take a thing without giving something in return, even that which was freely given left the recipient honor-bound to repay in some means, it was just a part of the harsh life of privation on the world that sacrifice was repaid in kind. When Hestus and Diedra Borsod gave up their son to the Legion, the legion repaid their sacrifice of their first born by exempting them from the taxation levy to be defrayed from the legion coffers. The tradition was followed in unspoken understanding with the administratum and munitorium offices within the fleet but when the overreach of the Adeptus Terra became involved families were back-taxed for the years of absolution they had received.
Such was the bureaucratic inefficiency in the system that the burden of the taxation had just fallen upon the Borsods within the last year.
"Lord…" Hestus began, "we did not know this was affecting Zeb-" he caught himself, "brother Zebulun. If we had known we would have refused."
Dorn raised a hand, "It is alright, Hestus. I know the administratum's tax burden came down hard upon your family with the stipend you reserved for your daughter upon entering the collegium of Araeneus and to have two growing sons besides places burden on your family. We must also consider that through the gift of the implantations you came to require sustenance in excess of a mortal man."
The woman lifted her head, "Lord…you know of our daughter and…and our sons?"
Dorn allowed a hint of a smile, "I make it my concern to know of all that occurs among the greater reach of my legion, Medicae Secundus Diedra Cole-Borsod, I even know you two were wed in the eyes of the god you both believe in after the paperwork with the administratum was completed."
Everyone in the room paled and swallowed as one.
"Lord Dorn…father…" Zebulun sputtered.
Rogal looked back over to his astartes, seeming to ken the nature of his concern. "Who do you think built the chapel, Zebulun?"
It was clear at a glance that Hestus could not reconcile the contradiction, his brow furrowed and his hands balled into confused and frustrated fists, "But…lord…in the eyes of the Imperial Truth, my wife and I are heretics."
Rogal steepled his fingers. "Tell me, Hestus, do you believe in the primacy of humanity and the value of scientific knowledge, enlightenment, and understanding?"
"I do lord, we all do."
Dorn lifted a finger, "Do you believe that all methods of understanding are a gift of the divine and to seek understanding is the purest form of worship?"
"That was our way." Hestus answered, nodding, remembering the dictum of Inwiti Orthodoxy of seeking truth in the Great Mysteries.
"Then how are you a heretic if your metaphysical beliefs do not interfere with that and further reinforce it?" Rogal knew the truth of the immaterium, he still remembered hearing the quiet prayers of Old Night and the ancient chapels of Inwit and Catheric enclaves of Terra through the immutability of time, echoing through the substance of the warp, almost antithetical to that which resided there, drifting off to another quiet and hidden intelligence that the entirety of the primordial destroyer seemed to eschew.
"The Emperor-" Diedra began but Dorn lifted a single finger.
"Specifically railed against religion, in such there is a slight caveat whereby one could say that faith specifically is not heretical to the Imperial Truth as an individual's beliefs should be theirs and theirs alone."
"The ice-caste does split the hair fine." Hestus offered with a grin that he immediately regretted, it slipped from him before he had time to consider his words, he suddenly felt a hot wash of horror and before he could begin sputtering obeisance a rumbling laugh came from the Lord of the VIIth.
"We never could take the Inwit out of you, Hestus."
"Appologies Lord, I seem to have inherited a scavver's quick tongue and equal lack of sense on when to employ it."
At the moment they were nothing more than two sons of Inwit, one of clan vassalage to another, and while the Inwiti could be quick to brutality, they appreciated candor and a word spoken true was never cause for the spilling of the blood of the speaker.
"To the matter at hand, I believe I can devise a solution that will be of positive disposition to all parties." Dorn declared as he lifted a piece of graphite from a narrow wooden tray and examined the end of it, "Your son…and your brother, Zebulun…Asher is talented in the culinary, is he not?"
Zebulun nodded, intuiting how his gene-father and lord had come to know this, but his birth parents stared in wide-eyed shock.
"It seems he desires to join the armsman contingent, but I believe he will grow out of that desire in due time, in the interstice I will place him in the culina regiis where his talents may be honed. Of course, there will be times when there will be excess or left-over dishes which can be brought back to his family, as has been the accepted way of the culina since the inception of the Imperial Navy and further back to the times before Old Night."
"Father…" Zebulun began, but stopped as abruptly.
"I cannot ease the burden of the taxation and the administratum's bureaucracy, but this will perhaps better ease the burden of basic sustenance than whatever rations Zebulun brought to you."
Hestus bowed his head deeply, "Thank you, Lord."
Dorn raised a hand, "Do not be so quick to thank me, should your son decide he hates life as a coquusi, you will likely be the ones to hear of his displeasure." He turned his head slightly to the astartes, "Zebulun…"
"Lord?"
"You are dismissed; I will expect to see that you have returned to your original weight by the next report of the apothecae."
"Yes…" he hung for a moment on a title, "father."
The astartes departed, sparing not a glance towards his parents, perhaps from some embarrassment of forcing them into this situation, perhaps not wanting to show such sentimentality before his lord. Before either could ask for leave to depart Dorn raised a single imperious finger again, "I have a question of you, Hestus, Diedra."
The small woman bowed her head, "We will answer whatever we can, lord Dorn."
"I will preface by saying I know that you learned of Zebulun's ascending to the ranks of the astartes because my sons told you as one who would have been their brother and among my first sons, Hestus, but what I desire to know is whether you approached Zebulun or he approached you."
"Zebulun came to us, but I fear we may have perhaps fomented it, Lord." The mortal woman answered.
Dorn tapped the stick of graphite twice on a piece of parchment; his brows furrowed contemplatively, "How so?"
The woman's lips stole into a smirk as she turned and pointed with theatrical deliberateness at Hestus, "He stands out in a crowd, lord."
The corner of Dorn's mouth crept up slightly as he glanced down at the parchment, "I suppose that he would."
He looked up at the two, Hestus was likely functionally immortal like all astartes or, at the very least, his natural lifespan would far outstrip that of a mortal human, save for a few lines and the pitting of forge work on his face, Dorn could not appreciably see any real aging on the man since his time as an aspirant. Diedra Cole had changed little in the twenty years since she had wed herself to Hestus, but as fair as she was, he did look her thirty nine years even if they were graceful and fertile years. He marveled at the contrast, he huge and blushed with fairer aspects of virility, she possessed of the dual virtues of her sex; soft yet subtly domineering.
"So when Seneschal Rann returned to the fleet with his forces, you came to witness the formatio victoria?"
"Yes, lord." Hestus replied, "Based on my experience as an aspirant and the reason I was not able to proceed to geneseed implantation and receiving my black carapace, I believed it was safe to assume Zebulun would not recognize us."
"Did you recognize him?" He directed the question more specifically at Diedra.
"We did, lord, we were able to pick him out immediately."
Dorn cock his head to the side slightly, lacing his fingers together, "How so?"
"His head was not cleanly shaved and I recognized his part line in the stubble." The woman answered a moment before Hestus spoke up adding more information, "He also still had the same gentle eyes our son always had, lord."
Dorn tapped the parchment again with the graphite, "I have heard it said Zebulun has kind eyes, Rann told me that such eyes should not fool me, though."
"Lord?" Hestus inquired, the confusion evident.
"One is not sent to the siege breakers via appointment or standard billeting, they are carefully selected. Zebulun does indeed have a gentle side to his nature as has been witnessed by his brothers and attested to in his conduct between battles, but in war he is patient and unmovable as a stone on defense and as ferocious as my brother Angron's war hounds on attack." It surprised Rogal to see that this revelation seemed to awaken more an expression of concern in Hestus than Diedra.
He filed it away mentally and continued, "On the world thirty nine fifty one he held in a shield wall for four hours beside his brothers until the auxilia for our push on the capital city's fortifications were in position and once the shields unlocked for the charge he was the first over the enemy walls and slew thirty eight in close combat with his seax in under four minutes, opening a lane by which our forces could penetrate and encircle the defensive fortifications. Later in the same day he attacked an enemy armored squadron moving in column to attack our flanks, he destroyed the first tank with a krak grenade and stopped the entire column, preventing a tercio of Auxilia from being flanked and attacked. Three days after that he captured an enemy supply depot, again single handed, and forced an entire brigade of the enemy to retreat with their supply compromised."
The biological parents exchanged looks, the demi-astartes still looking concerned but on Diedra Cole-Borsod's face was a smile of pride and satisfaction at the revelations. He began to scribe an order giving Asher Borsod a remit to enter to Culina Regiis and undertake apprenticeship with the Coquusi Primus as he continued. "Zebulun walks the thin line between rash and judicious with a discipline some say that only the seventh legion possesses. It is for this reason he drew the eye of Seneschal Rann. He is an excellent warrior and I count myself as fortunate that you blessed me with such a son."
Asher Borsod could have become an astartes. Kye watched with a critical eye as Hestus approached with his son, his right resting on the shoulder of the boy. He was a tall lad, very tall for his age and strongly built in a time he should be a gangly and awkward youth. If this son was anything like Zebulun he could complete the trials and enter into the strange realm of duality that they all occupied; sons of two fathers, human and yet not, the weapons of the Emperor's will and their lord's remit.
"Hestus, I was told you were bringing me a cook, not an aspirant." Kye declared with a hint of a smirk at his former aspirant-brother.
"Brother Captain, I plead that you get no such ideas." Hestus declared in a deferential tone.
"Be at peace, Hestus, I have no design on making any more astartes out of your sons, though I must admit it was a shame we could not have convinced you and Diedra to have produced a few more, we could have staffed an entire line company, but we would have likely had to provide you with larger quarters and greatly reduced work-shift for that." Kye replied, the smirk turning into a slight grin as he watched his brother flush pink at this. At times it was hard to remember that Hestus was still human…greatly enhanced, nearly astartes in his own right, but the basic soul and personality had never been wiped blank by the indoctrination and training. Kye couldn't help but wonder if a day would come where all the sons of Dorn could be able to make such a claim, to remember who they were and what made them unique from before they underwent the trials.
"Lord," the boy began, "I don't think I could become an astartes, I'm not as strong as Zebulun…brother Zebulun."
Kye looked down at the youth, at twelve almost the size of most adult men, "Your brother Zebulun was younger than you and I doubt any stronger and you need not be so formal with me, boy, your father was like a brother to me."
The boy bowed his head, "As you wish, brother captain."
"Just call me Kye. Are you ready to report to the culina?"
There was a twinkle in the lad's eyes as he looked up, "Yes, I am ready."
The Archamusian Master looked over to the Armorer Primus, "I will escort him, Hestus, he will return on the evening midway the second watch."
The armorer nodded, squatting to level himself eye-to-eye with his son, "Keep sharp ears and sharp eyes, son, do whatever the coquusi instructs, understand?"
The boy nodded, "I will."
"Good boy, we're proud of you."
Kye felt a moment of melancholy, he would never produce offspring of his own, never take a wife and have sons or daughters, the closest he would come was when they had extracted his secondary progenoid. In but a few years they would repeat the process and harvest the regrown replacement, but they would not be his sons, they would be his brothers. He hung on the thoughts of the strange loneliness that defined his life and that of all astartes as he clapped wrist to wrist with Hestus and began leading Asher for the Culina.
"Who was Archamus?"
The boy's questions snapped him from his reverie. "Archamus? He was one of the first like your father and I. Archamus became an astartes the same time I did."
"What happened to him?"
"Happened?"
"I'm sorry sir…it's just…you lead the Archamusians…you don't name something after someone who's still alive."
Kye turned his head to look down at the boy, "We call ourselves sons of Dorn…lord Dorn still lives."
"Yes, but you call yourselves that, to everyone else calls you the seventh legion or Imperial fists." Asher answered without pause.
Kye arched his brows, "I can't argue with that. Archamus, Captain Yonad, and myself were close, battle brothers from the time we received our first implants. We all progressed through the training, received the gene seed, our black carapaces, and appointment in the thirty eighth battle company. On our first campaign Archamus was struck by an anti-armor round and died, but before that he did, he entreated me to remember the oaths we made to lord Dorn and to each other. I named the Order of the Oath Brazier the Archamusians because we bind ourselves in the oaths to serve our Primarch beyond the mere remit of astartes, just as we did then and as Archamus bid us continue to do as he lay dying.."
The boy nodded, his face solemn, it made him think of how Zebulun was storied among his battle brothers even at the young age for his great sense of empathy. When the young Zebulun had been brought into the Siege Breakers, some of his more experienced battle brothers had witnessed him divvying up a ration between civilians displaced in their assault on a stronghold of some dissolute ruler who had refused compliance. A veteran sergeant and two other astartes had grumbled amongst themselves about Zebulun wasting it on mortals and petty commoners where Seneschal Rann had declared, "The boy does it because he is gentle and kind when he's not splitting skulls. Five hours ago these people fled in terror at the mere sight of us, now they will remember that one of the monsters from the stars filled their stomachs and kept them alive after their lord turned his back on them, if there is a better way to bring these people into the Imperial fold I have yet to see it."
Kye furrowed his brow, "Did you never ask your father about Archamus?"
"I asked him about some of it, but I never asked why you called your order the Archamusians."
Kye continued without a word, then finally gave into his curiosity, "Why not?"
"Because it wouldn't be right to ask him, I knew that if it was right for me to know you would tell me and if it wasn't right for me to know, I'd never ask anyone else."
Kye nodded, there was respect in that, honoring the rites and meaning of the Order, knowing there were things he might not have a right to know. "You are a good lad, Asher."
They continued for some time with some slight conversation, it was an effort for Kye, but this was the son of one who would have been brother to him and he did feel a unique kinship with Hestus in this, most of the first did. Some of the younger intake of Inwit referred to Hestus jokingly as "uncle", though never to his face. Hestus had, perhaps, become bigger as a armorer than he ever would have been as an astartes, and for a young battle brother of the legion the giant, who they assumed to be mortal, swinging his great maul to beat out the plate or frame from the legions terminators and dreadnoughts must seem larger than life. Hestus had always been tall, taller than most of the others of the first and this had persisted through his time as an initiate until he was determined unfit to continue in the training process. He'd always been strong and accurate, but the physical mnemonics that were part of the hypnotraining had never become ingrained and no amount of training could compensate for that lag in reaction time. Everything he did was deliberate at a point it should have been instinct, with enough time it may have become instinctual for him, but at critical moments during the training when success or failure, life or death were measured in slivers of a second the slight hesitation of consideration could have resulted in the death of not only him, but his aspirant squad mates.
When they reached the culina and entered the coquusi tertia almost dropped a pot in surprise, bowing his head.
"L-lord, what brings you to the culina regiis, does the lord primarch require sustenance?"
"Where is the coquusi primus?" Kye inquired, finding the kitchen cramped in his power armor.
The older man stepped forward, thick limbed and pot-bellied belying his physical strength, roughly the same height at Asher but much thicker limbed with a hard expression and a pocked nose set over the most precisely waxed and uncharacteristic mustache Kye had ever witnessed. He was always a gruff man and Kye found he almost appreciated the affected bellicosity of the head chef with whom he had butt heads more than once in a unique posturing dynamic that amused Kye.
"I bring orders from lord Dorn." Kye declared to the chef who stood arms akimbo as he glared back with all the intensity one without one iota of truly martial pedigree could muster.
"That damn fish broth?" The Coquusi Primus barked with a sour expression.
Kye stymied a grin, he knew for a fact that the primus would allow none other to touch or prepare the broth, spending hours refining the flavor and consistency to mimic the thin Inwiti soup that Dorn's old Sergeant Custus had brought to him for years when he still existed as lord of the Inwit Star Empire.
"Why, do you have some prepared?"
An affected sigh and grumble issued from the thick lips of the head chef as he folded his thick arms over his barrel chest, "I might have some…"
Kye shot the man an equally affected glare, "Come off it, old man, we both know you take pride in making lord Dorn the best fish soup in the Imperium."
"Old man?! I'll have you know you're twenty years ol-" he stopped, "did you say the best fish soup?"
He reached up and began pulling and twisting at his waxed mustache, trying to hide his pleasure at having his skill so declared.
"Lord Dorn says he can close his eyes and feel Inwit with each sip." That much was true, it was one of the few comforts Dorn allowed himself and once he actually closed his eyes and mistakenly called Kye Custus.
"Who is the boy, a new dish washer? I did not think bringing staff to the kitchens was a duty fit for the captain of the Huscarls."
Kye held out the folded parchment, "On the order of Lord Dorn."
The chef walked over and snatched the parchment with all the patrician haughtiness as would befit the lord of the little pocket empire he seemed to view the Culina Regiis as then broke the wax seal, opening the four corners and began to read. He muttered the words as he read them, reaching up with his left hand to twist the ends of his moustache, "By my hand and by my decree, Rogal Dorn, lord Primarch of the seventh legion… Asher Borsod, eh? So you like to cook, boy?"
"Sir, I do." The lad responded.
"Any good at it?"
"I do not know, sir, my family and my brother like it."
"Your brother, isn't he part of your family?" The chef inquired with knitted brows.
"The brother to whom he refers is an astartes of Seneschal Rann's siege breakers." Kye supplied.
"So you wanted to be a coquusi, pulled in a family favor?"
Kye felt a spark of anger in this, to imply the son of one of his would-be brothers, the brother of one who was gene brother to him would stoop to nepotism, the very idea that his lord…his sire…would entertain such debased politicking. He opened his mouth but the lad spoke, cutting him off.
"Sir, I had intended to become an armsman in the fleet, but our lord believes I have a talent that should be utilized, that's the way of the legion and Inwit, to utilize appropriate talents where appropriate."
Kye felt the anger squelch as he saw how the boy had turned the accusation around.
"This isn't Inwit, and you are no legionnaire, boy." The chef crowed at him.
"But this ship was built above Inwit, and its lord, the one who holds the power of life, death, usefulness, or irrelevance is from Inwit and is the lord and master of a legion." Asher countered deftly.
"You have a smart mouth." The cook frowned, each word enhancing his scowl.
"My brain isn't too shabby either, sir."
The cook's scowled deepened, brows furrowed, lips pulling inward then suddenly cracked into loud guffaws. "Alright, boy, you're clever enough for the culina, now let's see if you have any actual talent, cook something for me."
Kye was still irritated, but he could see that Asher seemed to have some talent for handling the recalcitrant coquusi and prepared to depart but not before he left one final reminder that the chef should control his sense of imperiousness specifically when it came to his father and lord. He placed an armored hand on Asher's shoulder, prompting the lad to look up at him, "Will you be well here, Asher Borsod?"
He nodded, a smile crossing his face, "I think I will be fine Captain Kye, I hope I can honor our lord's trust in me."
Kye nodded and turned, leaving the Culina, he would report to lord Dorn that his appointment for Asher had been discharged and proceed about the duties and concerns of the day, the bulk of the fleet would be making for Araneus Prime to take on a new supply of the Araneus pattern war gear for the legion and a cadre of "tech priests" that had been attached to the legion and expressed a certain degree of apostasy towards the machine cult and desired to indulge in the pure science that was rumored to be occurring in the forges of the former Inwiti Star Empire.
Diedra Borsod wasn't astartes, but she had borne one, and if she was to have her way she would bear more. The Rejuvenat treatment was justified through the pretense of biologan study of parental implantation of pre-geneseed organs and her own genetic purity. Initially there had been a suggestion that Hestus simply sire additional children by other women, a suggestion she had not wanted to make and one she had made more to assuage her own need to know where Hestus stood.
As it turned out, Hestus had no desire to sire more children to be given over to the VIIth Legion, he had brought up the comments made by Captain Kye in passing, something he found amusing and he was certain she would as well. What he had not expected was that she wanted to honor the legion by giving it more sons to become warriors. Even the amongst failed aspirants in the VIIth the death rate was under fifty percent, possibly the lowest out of every legion. Children died every day in the Imperium, on some worlds the numbers were truly alarming, compared to the expected life-span of many hive dwellers and feral worlders, the mortality rates among legion aspirants was actually lower. Every day tens of millions of infants were born in some of the more heavily populated segmentums, and in those segmentums up to a half or more would never make it to adolescence. Diedra hedged that if Hestus had been so close to becoming an astartes and if Zebulun had excelled to the level of which was rumored, she could produce other sons that would be able to succeed as aspirants and join their brother in the legion, remade as sons of Dorn.
She found herself now in front of Lord Dorn again, alone this time, having been summoned to stand before him by another pair of the Archamusians as she had been seven years prior.
"Mistress Cole-Borsod..." Dorn began where he stood by a drafting table.
"Lord, I have come as summoned."
Dorn lifted his head to examine her, his gaze always inscrutable. "Do you not think Zebulun was gift enough?"
How could she answer the question? Here was a transcendent being speaking to her like any mortal would to any other, what could she say? Every instinct told her she should supplicate herself and beg forgiveness for the temerity of assuming she should be the one to provide sons to the Lord of the VIIth, but there was another part of her that realize that this was a man who appreciated candor and would respect directness more than platitudes. "Lord, if I overstep I can only say I am heartily sorry for my pretentiousness, but my only desire is to strengthen the legion."
"Do you assume you are uniquely positioned to do so, Diedra Borsod?"
"Only in a very relative sense, Lord."
He set the brass caliper he had been holding while taking measurements down, "Enlighten me." his voice rumbled.
"By your own admission, Zebulun was a warrior of quality, it was my womb that served to create him from Hestus' seed. If it could be said that Zebulun proved to be an excellent warrior because he excelled during his time as an aspirant, would it not be worth seeing if more warriors of such quality could be supplied from the raw material of hardy and genetically pure children?"
"You are not a brood mother, Diedra, to expect such from you is vile."
"And if I do it voluntarily, Lord?"
"If such is the case, I am humbled by the devotion, however I must have your word and oath that you would surrender them to me voluntarily."
Her eyes widened, "They were pre-selected?"
"Both Issachar and Gad were declared eligible for aspirant training on the basis of physique and genetic purity, though we did not one small mutation in Gad...he shows many of the hallmarks of early development in psykers."
Diedra paled, "What will be done with him?"
"With the blessing of you, I will induct him into the aspirant trials to become a Librarian of my legion."
She furrowed her brows, he was was a Primarch, the closest thing to a physical manifestation of an angel of the Lord she could think of. "Why do you need my blessing, lord, what right for I have to possibly deny you?"
Dorn placed a hand on the table, looking off at a darkly lit book case lined with old tomes bound in colored leathers with letters of gold leaf, "The taking of sons to make into astartes, to have them join my legion is an intolerable cruelty, Diedra Borsod, perhaps it is a necessary cruelty, but a cruelty none the less. I have subjected your family to this cruelty once already, as I did Hestus' family when we took him, I have attempted to ameliorate the wound I cause at taking children from parents who have kept and cherished their children, I have attempted to be a father for those unwanted children who were cast off to the aspirant tithe or found alone and near-feral. But you and Hestus loved and cherished Zebulun and we can thank whatever greater power that may be that Zebulun was never stripped from you as a son but simply remade into something...greater. I cannot guarantee that such would be the case for Issachar and Gad, and if they were to die in training, if they were to fail, or if they were to forget you, would not that just be visiting a cruelty-once-denied on you again?"
"Lord, life is cruel, I think it must be crueler than it once was because I cannot see even human stubbornness prevailing if it was always this cruel. A day may come when life is no longer cruel, but it is not this age, if we are to usher in an age of hope and reason, would not sacrifice now be preferrable to later?"
Dorn's eyes softened slightly as he caste their cold slate gaze on her, "You turn my own rhetoric on me, Diedra Borsod."
"Lord, I would rather endure a cruelty that was incidental than one that is deliberate, I know from your words that you would not levy any further pains or burdens on me and my family, and that is why I am comfortable in commending my sons to you, to become your sons. Besides, I still have three other children who are not astartes."
Asher had finished the apprenticeship in the Culina and had found in being a coquusi a calling, at present he had ascended to Coquusi Secunda in the Culina Regiis and was being obviously groomed to take over at Primus within a decade. Dinah had not returned to the fleet, but she was still connected inexorably to the VIIth, acting as a Biologan Tertia on Araneus evaluating aspirant tithes before being moved to the various training worlds of the VIIth. And Dan...Dan had been the child that most oft drew the least attention, but he had shown promise for calculation and as such was training to become a Gunnery Adjutant Adicior within the fleet.
"I take it then, that I have your blessing to take two more of my sons for you increase?"
She nodded.
"And Hestus, does he not have a father's veto?"
Diedra stared at the Primarch for a moment, unsure what to make of the question, "Lord...he would never deny you anything."
Hestus Borsod could have been an astartes, and the still and quiet shame that had once caused him, the shame of failing, was all but gone now. He still held the role of Armorer Primus on the Phalanx, one of only five having been made the Primus of the great Domum Electi, tending to the weapons and armor of the Templars, Huscarls, and Siege Breakers. Ah yes...the Siege Breakers...his augmetic hand clicked reflexively as he thought back to the day he saw his life within a hair's breadth of ending. That was the day he'd looked over to his wounded first son, a hole from some accelerator weapon punched through his chest armor. Zebulun had been in a moment of unconsciousness when he'd dropped down beside him, his own hand and forearm shredded to pulp by a similar weapon and had believed for a moment that he had witnessed his birth-son's death.
His son's helmeted head jerked with a start, "Armorer Primus Borsod?"
"Brother Sergeant...Zebulun..."
Zebulun had looked down at the hole in the armor, cratered at the edges and crusted slightly with the fast congealing blood they both shared. "It's not so bad as it looks da, I'll need an apothecary before the day closes but it won't be mortal even if I have to crawl back to the Thunderhawk."
The training he remembered had kicked in at that moment, "Did it hit your spine, are you incapable of standing?"
He'd overlooked the term of endearment Zebulun had used at that moment, his instincts as a father incapable of separating the fear he felt for his stricken son from his role with the legion.
Zebulun grunted out a laugh, "No, I would crawl because I am not willing to entertain taking another such wound. Da...your arm."
Hestus had lifted the stump, a thick paste of clotted blood and dirt covering the tattered meat of the end, "Quite the thing isn't it?"
"Does..." Zebulun's voice grew quieter, softer, "does it hurt?"
"Like the fires of hell...but it's cleaner than it looks, the bone sheared clean, the meat is well...they'll just have to slap on an augmetic, but there are worse things."
An apothecary had found them, Zebulun had been patched up quickly and risen to rejoin his unit, however when it was time to receive treatment the apothecary had been insistent that Hestus be evacuated as a casualty. He'd tried to refuse at the tme but Zebulun had concurred, "You need to get it treated, Da, what would they say if they knew I let you stay here with a shredded arm and a missing hand?"
The apothecary had escorted him back to a casualty collection point, "A thunderhawk will be here in ten minutes to take you back to the fleet, Armorer Da."
"Hestus...I'm armorer Hestus, Hestus Borsod."
"But brother Zebulun..." The apothecary began, somehow managing to manifest and almost confused expression on the solid face-plate of his helmet.
"He called me Da because he's my son, I sired him, my wife gave birth to him."
Later that very year Issachar had joined his brother as an astartes, selected to join the Templars but there had been some question regarding Gad. They had heard he had received his gene seed and black carapace, but no posting had been declared until word came that he had been sent to train an additional year among the Hound Keepers of Angron's XIIth and then eight months amongst the Corvidae of Lord Magnus' XVth. Two years later he returned to the legion, having blooded himself next to his War Hound and Thousand Son cousins and had been inducted into the Librarius on the Phalanx. All three of their sons had survived the path of the aspirant, each had succeeded in becoming astartes and while Issachar had only vague memories of his life and family from before his induction, his twin brother Gad seemed to have retained none. Still they found themselves drawn to their hab-quarters in the Phalanx, often following behind their older brother, Sergeant Zebulun who had since readopted his last name of Borsod.
On such nights Asher would prepare a humble family feast and they would sit around the table with their brother Dan and their trio of younger siblings who had been born after Issachar and Gad had left to join the legion and all would seem right with the universe for those few hours they spent together, if only they could devise a way to draw Dinah back to the fleet though with her new family, a husband and three children of her own, such was unlikely. Dinah had been present when Issachar received his black carapace, and she had apparently wept to meet the younger brothers she had never met. Levi and Judah were so enraptured by their three astartes brothers, sometimes arriving in their armor, other times in tunics or robes, and in those moments even Gad who could not recollect the family by his own mind would smile for he would feel the contentment around him.
The Three Brothers…that was what the Legion called them, three brothers all ascended as astartes and sons of Dorn, but every astartes who marveled at the statistical unlikelihood and the gravity of familial sacrifice paid them homage. Diedra had risen in rank to Effectus Medicae Primus, every Medicae on the Phalanx and the attendant permenant Auxilia force of the VIIth legion reporting up the chain of command to her, it was a position of great prestige and respect, but to the astartes she was "Honored Mother" or "Great Matron" and they bowed their heads slightly if they passed or would halt a transport tram to allow her a berth if she approached. A second round of Rejuvant treatment a year after reaching her current position had seen her give birth to their youngest three children, and when time came for the mandatory genetic screening of the infants Kye himself had entered the nursery, dismissed the Biologans at bolter point and crushed the samples in his gauntlet.
"Hestus, Diedra, you have both given enough to the Legion and the Imperium."
Of course neither would hear anything of the sort at that point and they had submitted the samples themselves to the biologans days later. Judah had been identified as genetically pre-selected for aspirant trials and this time Dorn himself had come to their quarters to speak to them and to their boy. Hestus still remembered the straight forward youthful innocence Judah had displayed, then a mere five. As Dorn knelt to look at the child he had climbed up on the Primarch's armored thigh and just stared at the face wide eyed. Dorn's giant hand had come up to steady the boy, and he'd looked back down into the child's eyes.
"Judah…it is a good name."
"Are you my grandda?"
"After a strange manner, I might be close to being such. A time may come in the years to come where you are asked to become like your brothers Zebulun, Issachar, and Gad. It will be hard, there will be pain, and you may perhaps even die. If the day comes where you are asked to follow this path, you must think hard on it, harder than any boy should ever have to think."
"Is that how you become a son of Dorn?" Judah asked, eyes still wide.
"It is the path one must take to reach that point, yes." The lord replied.
"I'll think about it then, when they ask…but I'll probably say yes."
The Primarch smiled down at Judah, the stone of his face softening to something gentle and paternal, "You will have all the time you need to consider it, Judah"
Judah was nine now, and in the coming weeks the question would be put to him, a choice for him to make on his own because the family had earned that right in the eyes of the Primarch and his would-be Legion brothers. Judah was already bigger than Zebulon, Issachar, or Gad had ever been, a strong and muscled youth, a fast runner, a quick mind, and in his heart he had been prepared since the day their Lord had come to see him four years prior to follow the aspirant path his brothers had followed, the path his father had followed, because Hestus Borsod could have been an astartes.