Dilectus
The abhuman collapsed at his feet and was swiftly dispatched by a thrust from another Brother as he stalked over to the next. This one was laying prone in the mud of the hillside, bleeding profusely from a belly wound that left its intestines hanging out. Its death was certain, but not nearly fast enough for Battle-Captain Ferrac so he ended the filthy creature with a single swing of his axe-rake, putting it out of his misery. More awaited the swing of an executioner's axe, a strange reprieve in the battle but a welcome one, though he wondered why the fight had ended so abruptly.
Ferrac looked along the line and finally saw the reason for this reversal. The great monster that led the assault lay bleeding upon the slope, its head separated from its neck by the kiss of blessed metal. Chapter Master Coluber stood proudly upon the corpse, holding aloft the severed skull in a triumphant pose. It had been his hand that had struck the fatal blow and so broken the will of the mutated abhumans. Now he accepted his due, as the Amber Vipers cheered their lord's victory.
Ferrac didn't begrudge him the glory; such was the right of his office. Instead the Battle-Captain turned to Assault-Sergeant Anaxar and ordered, "Check the beastmen are properly dead."
"On it," Anaxar replied as he set to work.
Ferrac sighed as the Amber Vipers went to work, hastily dispatching wounded Abhumans before the next wave came. Everywhere he looked wounded beastmen covered the hillside, their heavy jaws boasting long tusks and vicious fangs. Ferrac saw the thick coarse skin over their hides, bulging muscles and grasping paws that made them resembles Ogyrns. Yet these Abhumans charged on four legs, like a horse's and their skin was tough. Hence their local name of 'Centyrs'. They were vile perversions of the true human form, born from degeneration of the sacred bloodline and mutation run wild. They had made the air ring as they bounded out of the Tanglethorn forests, an endless tide sweeping from of the shadows to overrun the cities of men, but not nearly enough to break the Amber Vipers.
Ferrac looked upon the piles of corpses and replayed their charge in his mind's eye. They had been fury and bestial rage made flesh, but set against them a thin line of amber defiance had held the hilltop. Amber Viper Space Marines, defending their position with unyielding courage. They had met the charge with bolter and missile, flamer and melta, volkite and phosphor, a barrage that would have repulsed an Ork offensive. Yet the Centyrs cared nothing for losses and kept coming, wave after wave of them. Blood spraying high as craters were blown into bodies, the air singing with screams of pain and magnesium flares of light searing the eye where Phosphor shells detonated but nothing had given them pause, until their leader had been slain.
Ferrac's vox tickled his ear as a voice issued, "Sergeant Reddam, reporting movement in the forest."
"Another wave?" Ferrac growled as he listened to the fast-moving unit's reports from afar.
"Negative," Reddam replied, "Enemy force is moving away and breaking up. Seeing a lot of infighting in their ranks. I think killing their leader has broken their will, they are retreating."
"Confirm that," Ferrac growled, "I want you to track them and note avenues of escape so we can hunt them down."
The vox fell silent but Anaxar looked over and asked, "Did we just win?"
Ferrac pulled free his helm, revealing an iron plate fused to his forehead and cheekbones. It was a legacy of war and he had adorned it with etchings of snakes and serpents. It made him resemble a feral warlord, which was the whole point, but right now he felt more weary than violent. The day had been long and the blood spilled enough to sate even his lust for violence.
Ferrac sighed, "Looks like it."
Anaxar muttered, "Good job too, I don't think the mortals could have taken another charge."
"Who cares?" Ferrac sneered.
"We should," Anaxar pointed out, "We came to Brenia for recruits, remember."
Ferrac grimaced as he looked down the hillside where their allies regrouped. The Amber Vipers hadn't fought the Abhuman horde alone; they had been aided by the native warriors. Though in Ferrac's opinion they hadn't been good for much other than soaking up blows. They were primitive warriors on horseback, clad head-to-toe in iron plates held on with straps. Banners and flags flapped in the cold wind from poles attached to the backs of their saddles, making them seem a flock of birds on the wing. They were crude and simple warriors, not even boasting lasguns or artillery. Brenia was a feral world and the greatest armaments its chevaliers could boast were explosive-tipped lances, stubber pistols and short chainswords.
Ferrac thought the Amber Vipers could have managed without the local's assistance but the rulers of this cesspit had demanded to stand alongside their saviours in battle. For generations the pure-bloodlines of Brenia had fought to hold back the Abhuman tide of Centyrs, a tradition they had refused to abandon even in the face of annihilation. A respectable pride in other circumstances: complete foolishness in the face of the tidal wave of mutants that had arisen to consume their world.
Ferrac's eyes travelled to the sky, where he found the reason for this world's distress. Over the black mountain uplands and Tanglethorn forests that dominated Brenia the Cicatrix Maledictum loomed. The yawning rift split the sky horizon to horizon, visible even in daylight. Brenia hung perilously close to that galactic wound, festering in the periphery of its taint. Nauseating to look upon in the day and at night its lurid stain made mortals cower indoors and huddle around their fires as if that would bring relief. Fear and suspicion were the least of the troubles it unleashed. The taint had emboldened the Abhumans of Brenia, making them bigger, stronger and more ferocious than they had ever been before. United under a leader they had risen to wipe out pure-blood humanity, a torrent of corruption the natives could not withstand. So the Amber Vipers had come, to save this cesspit from its taint. That the local's genes had proven robust enough for Transhuman ascension was a surprise but at least it was something to make the campaign worthwhile. This planet had little else to offer, in Ferrac's opinion.
"You think they will keep to the deal?" Ferrac mused.
"Probably not," Anaxar snorted, "I've never encountered a governor who didn't try to weasel out of his agreements, once the fight is done."
"Saving their world in exchange for recruiting rights," Ferrac muttered, "How could any man squirm his way out of that?!"
"They'll find a way," Anaxar scoffed, "They always try."
Ferrac sighed, "Then I'd better go put the fear into their ruler."
"Fear of the Emperor?" Anaxar probed.
"Fear of me," Ferrac growled as he set off.
Ferrac strode off, seeing Amber Vipers finishing off the wounded and dying. Knives plunged without remorse, ending Abhuman mewling with quick thrusts. The Centyrs had dared to endanger pure human dominance of this world and so deserved no mercy. Only a handful of Amber Vipers had fallen and they were being tended to by white-clad apprentices, the nascent Apothecary order spreading out along the line to care for the wounded. From the crowd stepped forward Shrios, chief Apothecary of the Amber Vipers. His chainsword dripped with gore and entrails were lodged in the blades, but he was unharmed.
His sullen face glowered at his apprentices but lightened when he saw Ferrac closing and called, "A good day."
"Good enough," Ferrac retorted.
"You sound less than pleased," Shrios commented as he fell in step with the Battle-Captain.
"We didn't come here for the fun of it," Ferrac growled, "We have a debt to claim."
"Ah…" Shrios sighed, "That again."
Ferrac strode away from the mob of Astartes and made his way over to the armoured horsemen. The Chevaliers of Brenia milled around the base of the hill, their mount's flanks coated in the blood of the fallen. Their explosive lances were spent and their heavy chainswords coated with gore, but they stood defiant. Their banners flew proudly in the wind and they laughed and cheered each other's feats, sharing the fierce joy of having survived another battle. Ferrac wasn't impressed. True their charges, withdrawals and counter-charges had been skillful, but there were notably fewer of them than had started the battle, their victory had come at a high price and had the Amber Vipers not been here they would have been culled to the last man.
Ferrac picked his way amongst the men, who made way for the bulk of a Space Marine without rancour. In the heart of the mass he found the man he was searching for: Gaerd, First Prince of Brenia, under the Emperor's sovereignty. The crown-prince of this world was a hearty man, with broad shoulders and packed muscle to his arm. His body was covered in the local's iron plate and he hefted his weighty sword one-handed. He had removed his helmet to reveal a face scarred by battle, with a firm set to his jaw and a sweat-coated brow. A banner flew from his mount's saddle, depicting a young woman upon horseback. Ferrac had no idea what local legend that represented and didn't care, he was here for a purpose and would see it done.
At his ear Shrios muttered, "A good specimen, a little younger and he'd make a decent recruit for the Chapter."
"Pah, I doubt it," Ferrac snorted, "This world offers quantity not quality."
The pair strode up to the man, their eyes level with his on horseback. Gaerd turned to them and sheathed his blade as he called, "Well met friends, by the blood we shed this day I deem you comrades and hail your valour."
Ferrac glared at the man through his iron mask spat, "I'm not here to mince fancy words. We saved your lands, now you owe us."
Gaerd didn't take offence as he replied, "The firstborn sons of our families, to replenish your ranks. A high price you demand, but one we shall pay gladly."
Shrios sounded surprised as he replied, "You aren't going to try to weasel out of it?"
"Why would I?" Gaerd asked with a frown.
Ferrac explained, "In our experience most governors pledge anything when they are desperate, but grow reluctant when the time comes to pay up. I thought you were such a cur."
That brought raucous laughter from the crowd, making Ferrac glance about in confusion. These men seemed amused by his insult, words that would have demanded bloodshed on most planets provoking only mirth. Ferrac started to think these people weren't usual and snapped, "What's so funny?!"
Gaerd smiled broadly as he replied, "A man lives and dies by his word on Brenia, lies do not pass our lips. Your forthright manner is pleasing to our ears, unlike the passing trade ships who seek to hide knives behind soft words."
"Then you will keep to your pledge?" Shrios pressed.
"Even if we hadn't sworn it we would do so anyway," Gaerd proclaimed, "To serve the Holy Terran Emperor as one of His angels is every young boy's dream. We are honoured to offer our firstborn to the Amber Vipers."
Nods spread through the crowd at the words and Ferrac said, "Surprising, we shall begin selecting recruits at once. Meanwhile I will lead the quest to wipe out these Centyr entirely."
To his shock gasps arose at the offer and Gaerd's face grew red as he cried, "No, you can't!"
"You what?" Ferrac uttered.
"You must let them flee," Gaerd stated, "So they can breed more."
Ferrac was baffled by the retort and said, "You want them to come again?"
Shrios added, "But we could exterminate them all."
"Then who would our children's children fight?!" Gaerd protested.
Ferrac was stumped by this denial and said, "You speak nonsense."
But Gaerd explained, "Brenia is a world of conflict and war, a land where the strong survive and the weak are culled. Loyalty, courage, strength, brotherhood, we are taught these from birth so we can withstand the Centyr. If they did not come every generation we would sink into apathy and indolence, becoming weak and soft."
"The Abhumans nearly wiped you out," Shrios protested.
"True, this horde was greater than any seen before, the influence of the Great Rip in the sky no doubt. We thank you for your aid, but the challenge must continue. We must become more vigilant and ruthless in the future for the threat continues to grow. This is good, our sons will grow even stronger than we, the Holy Terran Emperor demands it."
Shrios shook his head and said, "You merely seek to justify your rule over the planet. You need a threat to keep the peasants in line and the nobles in power. There are more than enough threats in the galaxy without you coddling one!"
"And would you prefer our sons to become fat and idle!" Gaerd retorted, "We have heard of other worlds from passing traders. Planets where men wage war upon men, thieves and criminals multiply in the gutters while nobles leach off the downtrodden. Worlds where rulers grow weak from thinking the privileges of rank come without sacrifice. No, I will not have it. Brenia will remain pure and strong."
"I agree," Ferrac stated.
"You do?!" Shrios started in shock.
Ferrac nodded, "We mistook your people's character, we did not consider that your strength comes from adversity. We shall respect your ways and customs. All we ask from you is to keep to our bargain."
Gaerd lowered his head in agreement and said, "It shall be so. Tales will be told of this victory and all the noble families will send sons to be selected for your ranks."
Ferrac nodded respectfully and turned away. Shrios trailed after him as they departed and the Apothecary hissed, "What's got into you?!"
Ferrac replied, "I saw the hearts of these people and was surprised by it. There is something priceless in the soul of this world, worth more than Adamantium. Purity, resolution, zeal, their spirits are strong and will remain strong. The Chapter needs such iron in its recruits. We must mark this world in our annals, for the future."
Shrios glanced at him suspiciously and said, "You intend to return?"
Ferrac concluded, "I must speak to Coluber and tell him the Amber Vipers must revisit this planet, in the years to come. I believe we have just discovered our first permanent recruiting world."