+++Chapter 2+++
With the battle for compliance over, the other vessels of the 73rd expedition fleet returned from their own assignments, gliding through the vacuum of space like vast iron sharks, sidling up to the Legion flagship like Remoras to a whale. The colossal form of The Chamberlin loomed above Seventy three- sixteen. The weapon batteries gleaming in the light of the system's sun. The Firefly like forms of two dozen Stormbirds soared through the vacuum before being drawn inside the vast warship. Each ship in the fleet bore a grimacing skull and II sigil on their starboard side, the port host to the ships name, marked on in letters hundreds of feet high. The majority of the ships were Terran, and featured the same design as the ships of their brother Legions. However, it was clear from the less curvaceous form of The Laertes that it was a Tadrellian design, altered slightly to more closely resemble the other ships.
The Shadow Knights, the II of the Legions Astartes. The Sons of Rival as they were often referred, in lieu of their Primarch.
Through the foot thick glass of his private observation platform, the dark silhouette of the Primarch silently observed the return of his sons, eyes flitting from one ship to another, inspecting them for any damage. Once satisfied, he turned his back on the starlit glory of his fleet, and returnedto his chambers.
'The Chamberlin's' main chamber was filled with the scents of cooked meat and Tadrellian spiced rum as the gathered Astartes celebrated their victory. The sloping ceiling was adorned with filigree carvings of iron and bronze, thick supports curving down and meeting above a large stage sculpted from jet black obsidian. Most of the gathered Astartes had the dark ebony hair of a Tadrel born, marking them as newer additions to the Legion, selected from the Primarch's homeworld. There were a few Terran born, but they were marked only by appearance, in gait and in demeanour, they were still Shadow Knights.
Avaro sat with a collection of his Sergeants at one end of the room. Orion was sitting opposite, grinning to himself
"You did well back there" Avaro smiled, gripping a stub of a cigar between his teeth. Orion looked up and smirked
"Not so bad yourself Captain" he winked. The title was new, Avaro had only been in command of the second for little over a year, Seventy three- sixteen had been his first real trial as a Captain, his first taste of leadership. Smoke curled around Avaro's features as he chuckled, giving Orion a boot in the shin beneath the table. The Captain reached up and withdrew the cigar before addressing the rest of the table
"First round's on me" he called out, the conclave voiced their approval and presented their flagons as a servitor trundled over to the table, bearing the weight of a large barrel of rum.
Orion downed his first flagon in a few seconds and slammed it down on the table, before swftly refilling it. They had all substituted their battle plate for fatigues, coloured a dull grey. Avaro lifted his flagon
"To the second!" he called out.
"To the second!" echoed the others. Nihlus placed his flagon down on the table
"Anyone fancy a bout in the combat cages after this?" Brex laughed, before reaching over and grappling his fellow sergeant
"Lighten up brother, let's finish celebrating this victory before we begin preparing for the next eh?" the others laughed. Nihlus smirked
"Perhaps if you spent more time training you'd still be in once piece" he sniggered, rapping a knuckle against Brex' bionic leg. Rather than taking offence, Brex merely assumed a smug grin
"C'mon Nihlus, we all know who I am" he climbed to his feet and raised his flagon "the Immortal sergeant Brex!" the others groaned at the sound of Brex's self-imposed nickname, true enough the sergeant had walked away from engagements that would fell most Astartes, perhaps not always unscathed, but alive. However, this fact had more of an effect on his ego than his ambition.
Avaro smirked
"Maybe next time you'll spearhead the assault with me Brex" he said, leaning back and taking a long draught of spiced rum. Brex shook his head
"You know as well as I Captain that Orion would be forever heartbroken if I took his place at your side." Orion gave Brex a glare of faux anger
"That's if you could maintain the same performance of my squad, Brex" his expression softened.
The jovial engagement was cut short as a the doors at the far end of the chamber were thrust open. The room fell silent, each Astartes placing his flagon on the table and raising to their feet. Black Wardens stepped through the doorway and into the light, aligning themselves on the stage. They were the Primarch's honour guard, each bore a suit of cataphractii tactical dreadnought armour, complete with power fist and thunder hammer, the snub forms of Meltafire pistols maglocked to their thighs. Once a dozen of the fearsome warriors were on the stage, they lifted their hammers before their faces. Then, he appeared. Clad in pitch black fatigues, and a robe embroidered with the II of the II legion, the Primarch presented himself. His features were stern, as if they ahd been forged from hammered steel. His black hair was trimmed short, keeping it out of his eyes and making the tattoo clearly visible. Over one of his sharp emerald eyes the Primarch had had an II tattoed. Even from this distance Avaro could make out a thin layer of stubble over his father's chin. As he walked forwards muscles rippled and twitched beneath his robes, as if in some silent display of power. He towered over his honour guard and paced towards the edge of the stage. There were a few moments silence as the legendary warrior observed his men. Arms folded across his chest. The terrible might of Valdes Rival, Primarch of the II Legion.
The seconds that passed in silence were heavy, forcing the air out of Avaro's lungs, being regarded in such fashion by the Primarch. But as quickly as his discomfort had arisen it vanished, as the Primarch smiled.
"My sons" he said, his deep voice echoing through the chamber "today we have won a great victory, and another compliant world has been added to the growing Imperium of man. But of course you all know this" he added with a sly grin, a low chuckle echoed through the ranks of the gathered Astartes "you have done me proud, proud as any father can be of his children, this victory is yours,enjoy it" he grinned "and will somebody please get me a flagon?" the room exploded with laughter, the Primarch contributing most of all. Marcus Epoch, Captain of the 1st Company leaped up onto the stage and handed the Primarch a battered metal tankard. The colossal figure took it, placing a hand on Epoch's shoulder and raising the flagon "to the II legion!" he called out. Two hundred flagons were lifted in response
"To the II legion!"
The room quickly returned to its former raucous celebration. A table was carried onto the stage by a handful of Veterans so that the Primarch could drink seated. Avaro remained staring in the Primarchs direction, after most others had returned to their drinks. His trance like state was broken only by the sound of his name
"Captain Avaro." The Captain turned in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Before the table stood one of the armour clad warriors of the Black Wardens
"Yes?" he replied. The rest of the table had all fallen silent
"The Primarch wishes for you to join him for a drink" the man stated "provided you are not otherwise engaged"
"Now?" the Black warden smirked
"Yes lad, now." Avaro gave a cursory look to his sergeants, all of whom were grinning ear to ear
"Lead on brother" Avaro got to his feet, flagon in hand, and the Black warden bowed, before trudging over to the stage.
The Primarch sat at the head of the large stone table, flagon in hand, and deep in conversation with Dreyphus Pyke, his equerry and leader of the Black Wardens. Epoch was sitting to his right, silently listening to Rival's words. Rax was there too, along with a few other Captains that Avaro didn't recognise. The conversation ended as Avaro arrived. The Primarch's face lit up
"There he is, the famed Pup, take a seat lad" Avaro seated himself beside Rax, opposite the Primarch
"Pyke was just regaling me with the details of the battle on Seventy three- sixteen, quite an impressive victory Captain" Avaro bowed his head
"It was nothing my lord"
"You may dispense with the formalities Captain, this is a celebration not a war council" Avaro lifted his head, smiling sheepishly
"My apologies." Waving his hand the Primarch lifted his flagon to his lips
"None necessary." He emptied the flagon, downing the contents in a matter of seconds. A servitor behind him scurried over and refilled the container, before darting off again
"So, I believe this is the first time we have met properly" Rival smiled "I have heard much about you Avaro, I'm sure you have a few tales to tell"
"A few" Avaro admitted, taking a sip of rum.
"I should like to hear one at some point, when you're not too busy" Rival said, leading forwards, resting his huge forearms on the table.
"I'm sure I could find the time" Avaro replied, smiling. Rival nodded
"I'm glad to hear that" he turned to Epoch "Marcus, where have you been hiding this boy?" Epoch chuckled
"I have hidden him nowhere Primarch, the Second Captain is mostly preoccupied, training aboard The Hammerfell with the rest of his company" Rival nodded in approval
"A good General leads by example" he stated, before draining another flagon
"Speaking of which, will you be leading us in our next endeavour?" Epoch asked raising an eyebrow. In most Legions, that form of talk would incur severe punishment. Avaro awaited his Primarch's response with baited breath.
"Aye" Rival lowered his flagon "it was a shame I could not join you today. But there were matters that needed seeing to, my brother, the Warmaster has informed me that there is a resurgence on a compliant world. A problem I'm sure we can lay to rest."
"What sort of problem?" Rax grunted, throwing back his own flagon and emptying it without a thought. The Primarch grinned
"A problem of the green variety. It seems my Brother Lorgar is unable to adequately deal with an ork insurgence." The group chuckled.
The rivalry between the Shadow Knights and the other Legions ran deep, especially with those who pretended to be better or tougher than they were. The likes of the Emperor's Children, Ultramarines and Word Bearers struck little joy in the hearts of the II Legion when they were forced to fight beside them, they bore closer ties to the more unruly Legions; The Luna Wolves, The White Scars and the headstrong Space Wolves.
"Never send a preacher to do a soldier's job" Rax growled, a few other Captains nodded in agreement. Rival raised a hand
"Let's not be unfair, the Word Bearers have played their part in the Crusade, let's not resort to resentment Captain." Rax bowed his head
"I apologize my lord" he replied. Rival's expression softened
"It's nothing" The Primarch lay his flagon down on the table and straightened up "I fear I must depart, for now at least, battle plans must be drawn up and routes plotted" he sighed "how I hate paperwork" the gathered Captains smirked, as if in agreement "I hope to see you all at the briefing" he stated, before turning his eye to Avaro "some of you before then. But for now" he bowed his head and exited through the gilded doors, followed by his Black Wardens.