Pierce their soul

by lambdagod

Emperor's Spears fight against the Ork till their duty to the Emperor ends in death. The secrets of the Imperium will overshadow their righteous war and everything will be covered in darkness. Note: Second Draft coming soon.

56. Chapter L - Finale

-L-

"It isn't always easy, right?" Malik's voice echoed through the cargo depot for several corridors of crates.

Hilaa was sitting alone atop a crate, Echnisians had pushed the military division into a cargo hangar and the already crate filled hangar was now busy with all kind of infantry. Tank crews and artillerymen sat side by side with hundreds of infantry, trying hard not to get lost among the busy corridors made off stacked crates.

"What do you mean?" Hilaa asked.

"Losing people." said Malik walking closer.

"It's never easy." replied Hilaa closing her Uplifting Primer and sliding it inside her shirt and into a secret secure pocket made just for the book.

"I heard you lost someone close." said Malik.

Hilaa looked at him "Who told you that?"

"Your boy-mechanic is pretty talkative." said Malik grinning.

"Mettav that Semdek." swore Hilaa then realised her blasphemy and did the sign of the aquila with the hope of correcting her mistake.

"So you really were close?" asked Malik.

This topic was none of his business. Hilaa felt the same thing and did not want to respond to him, but still did out of an impulse.

"We were."

Malik stood for a moment without a reply and looked like as if thinking. Hilaa looked at him waiting for the casual I'm-so-sorry-for-your-loss routine. After so many loss one felt that such empty words are dust in mouth.

Malik looked back at Hilaa as if from being released from a trance "His soul is with Ilimbaratur now." he said.

Hilaa still waited for the casual apology but did not receive it.

"What's wrong?" asked Malik not understanding the confused expression of Hilaa's face.

"You're not going to apologize for my loss?" she asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"It's a custom." she replied.

"It's not our custom. Upon the sands one dies without a funeral. On Balharra nobody is sorry for the dead. If it's any worth, the dead should apologize to us, for they are seated by the Ilimbaratur in peace and we still fight and suffer everyday."

Hilaa thought of this for a moment. "I like that." she replied.

"Yet, fighting is our duty, not our suffering." she added.

"But you suffer." said Malik coming beside her.

"It will pass, it always passes."

"It would pass easier with company." said Malik.

Hilaa smirked a knowing smile.

"Is that your pick-up style? Talking about death?" she asked.

"Death is guardsmen's due,eh?" said Malik grinning, then his grin faded in an instant as if he realised something and he added "I didn't mean to do what you think I do, I will gladly leave if you would brand me something I am not." he said with a serious voice.

Seeing his usually grinning face in that serious expression taught Hilaa how this men was able to lead a regiment, instead of being the regimental fool. Malik had more iron in him than he let out, she decided.

"No, no. I didn't mean to say it so bluntly." said Hilaa.

He sat beside her and they stood silent for a long time.

Their silence broke when Aaron walked in with Drorit on his heels.

"There you are." he said to noone in particular.

"Here I am." supported Hilaa taking the reply upon herself.

Aaron realised Malik sitting next to her and eyed the duo inquisitively.

"Hi." said Malik passively, he didn't want a commotion with the captain.

Aaron gave a short nod.

Hilaa looked at the small framed girl behind Aaron and nodded toward her, "You carry her around?"

Aaron glanced at Drorit, who was anxiously standing behind him.

"She is following me everywhere." he said shrugging with one shoulder.

"So captain, the big day is tomorrow, eh?" asked Malik pushing a new subject.

"I didn't had a decoration in mind when we landed on this planet." Aaron replied.

"Decoration? More like celebration." said Malik.

"I don't care about Echnisian celebration, I just want off from this mettavlav planet."

"I don't like this place either." confessed Hilaa.

Malik nodded slowly "There is something wicked here."

"A disturbing feeling creeps into my stomach since we came here, I cared not for it, assuming it's combat anxiety." said Hilaa placing a hand on her belly.

"We will be shipped off once this ordeal is over, so only a little patience is enough." said Aaron.

"Hopefully." said Malik sarcastically.

Aaron caught him taking a quick glimpse of his Lho pack. He put the pack in his mouth and pulled one.

"My turn to share I guess." he said shaking the pack upwards and squeezing it, so the Lho-sticks would stick out of the pack and be easier to take.

Malik took one "Appreciated." he said producing a light and lighting their sticks, Aaron's first.

Hilaa didn't made for the pack, she detested the taste of the low grade Lho-sticks and only smoked under extreme stress.

"I'm sorry for Zeevka." Aaron said.

Malik looked at Hilaa's face to watch her reaction. After hearing Zeevka's name her senses longed for the refused Lho-stick but she managed to not request one. She looked up at Aaron and smiled sadly.

"We are safe, you are safe." she said.

Aaron was taken aback like a little brother being needlessly protected by his big sister.

"She is referring to your antics." Malik said as if explaining the situation to an idiot.

"I did what I had to. Guns don't win battles, morale do. If the men broke then and there, the whole offensive was good as over." he said.

"Still you endangered yourself by charging over the trenches yourself. You're an officer now, Aaron." Hilaa said.

Aaron never was someone who led from the back. Even his platoon sergeant years passed by fighting enemies from the front. Most officers were content with ordering their men to death as they peered over maps and dataslates back at the protection of their camps. Not Aaron.

"And what about me?" said Malik with a grin.

"Well, I suppose you need a scolding too." Hilaa said, remembering that Malik's rank was actually higher than Aaron's.

But the Kavhim Lord seemed so care free and he seemed to have a slimy closeness to his men that his rank did not suit at all. Being a captain it was usual to lead the men in the front but a colonel is expected to be kept out of harms way so he can coordinate the battle without the risk of death. Balharethi combat tactics did not required such a singular leader to exist. Each platoon was a completely sufficient fighting force capable of hampering enemy forces. Their irregular weapon disposition and even usage of improvised-weaponry made them unpredictable and capable of dealing with any targets short of a tank battalion. Balharethi excelled as a force that can take a beating and keep damaging enemy position and numbers. They did not shrink from using dirty combat tactics and always tried to stay away from a direct engagement. There were several types of Balharethi forces taking part in the great Imperial Guard and Kavhim Infantry Regiments were one of them. Usually a Kavhim would have motorized vehicles, trucks, buggies and other sand capable heavy duty or lightweight vehicles. But Malik's Kavhim, Harun, was poor and the other kavhims following his was poorer. It appeared to Aaron that the Balharethi's did not possess any heavy armour. No artillery, tanks or even heavy weapons manned by infantry. They used heavy weapons but it wasn't the usual two man teams as dictated in the Tactica Imperialis. He realised that Balharethi were able to deter any kind of enemy be it heavy tanks or light massed infantry by their highly specialized weaponry, as long as they have the advantage and numbers that it. There were several man carrying heavy weapons by the strength of their arms alone. Aaron really wasn't sure of their effectiveness and thought that against a sufficiently organized enemy, the ragtag guerilla of heavy weaponeers weren't really a match. However when used as a side force, especially in disrupting objectives, Balharethi could really give a good punch to the enemy. Their mobility and general lack of any care for the lives of their comrades made them great assets to work behind enemy lines.

"I appreciate your dedication in the trenches." Aaron said to Malik.

"We did our part."

"I was too busy to see but they told me that our own unit was shot at during the combat by artillery fire." asked Hilaa.

"I heard that too, what happened?" asked Aaron. He heard the vox communication between the units but was too busy to register the entire event during the heat of combat. He knew that some Balharethi were executed by the Commissar Gus Ibrak and the flank held due to his intervention. He was curious to hear it from Malik, whether he was going to tell lies or truth, it was going to be interesting.

Malik cleared his throat to buy himself some time.

"Well?" prompted Hilaa.

"Hashim Kavhim was to our left and they broke." he said.

"Kavhim?" asked Hilaa.

"Platoon sized force. Kavhims come from mutually living tribes so there is no constant size like in other regiments. Munitorum calls it unevenly-distributed-platoon." he said.

"Stay on topic. What happened to the Hashim?" said Aaron.

"I was just answering her question." flared Malik in an accused tone.

Then he continued.

"That gbered Gazam ran away from combat. He left the post and left us exposed. If the Orks turned our way instead of chasing them we would all be dead. Luckily Orks have less brain then a camel so they charged after Gazam and his pack of cowards. Commissar came with his Chimera and fired on the Orks. Gazam did not rallied his men despite the Commissar's presence. Commissar ordered your artillery to fire on them. When your officer refused he pulled rank to execute Gazam and his deserters."

"Naphtali artillery?" asked Hilaa in shock.

"We don't have any." said Malik as a matter of fact.

"Who fired on them?" asked Hilaa.

"I don't know their names." said Malik.

Aaron knew but kept his silence.

"It doesn't matter anyway, they got what's coming to them." said Malik.

Hilaa was both shocked that it was Naphtali who killed those Balharethi men and at Malik's support of the horrible action.

Naphtali had few commissars attached to their forces here and there but generally they never got those ruthless commissars of legends joining their units. There were summary executions in their service record but nothing significant compared to such brutality.

"How can you support such an action?" asked Hilaa almost shouting in anger.

"Gazam tried running from his duty but his duty caught up to him. I never liked him anyway." said Malik indifferently.

Hilaa stood up in anger, she never fully understood the rivalry within the Kavhims. She was accustomed to Naphtali being a single forces, unlike the rivalry among Balharethi.

"That is insane. You are glad they died?" she asked tears welling in her eyes.

Malik realised that Hilaa was emotionally unstable and related his indifference to deaths of Gazam's men with his closer loss of Zeevka.

"Calm down, I did not said that." he tried to fix the situation.

"You did, how can you be glad that your brothers in arms die?" she asked shouting now.

Malik was about to reply but Aaron moved closer to Hilaa and embraced her.

She burried her face into his uniform and sobbed violently.

"We don't see it your way, Malik." he explained "And her loss is still fresh."

"I understand." said Malik cursing himself for being so honest about their customs. Outsiders never understood the Balharran customs and shun them as honorless and inhumane.

Hilaa finally stopped crying and released herself from Aaron's embrace. She sat down on the crate next to Malik and presented a hand in want.

Aaron looked at her open hand for a second then sprung into motion realising what she wanted.

She pulled one Lho from the presented pack and let Malik light it up. She took a deep breath and let it burn through her lungs.

"I hate this planet." she said giving out smoke from her nose.

---

Adamab Habas was cleaning his plasmagun while sitting on a crate. He had detached the magnetic coil rods from the gun and placed them in order on a piece of clean cloth next to himself.

Plasma weaponry never was a favourite choice for Imperial forces. Their clunky and over complicated design made them hard to maintain. If the critical parts of the weapon broke down during combat it was impossible to field-repair it. Even minor disfunctionalities might be misdetected as a complete breakdown by less well trained guardsmen and they dump the weapon, deeming it useless. Worst possible fault the plasma weapons can have was called "unevenly fluctuating heated mass dispersal" as it was called by the adepts of Cult Mechanicus or "gets hot" by the less intelligent guardsmen. Ignitions chambers was filled with the "ammo", which is usually a magnetic gas. Once the plasma coils fire up they electrified the gas and rose it at a temperature that can be achieve on the surface of stars. This amazing heat was only contained by the evenly distribution of the mass. If there was a problem and the electrified mass clung together as residue, the entire process of firing the plasma mass failed. At best the gun would detect such a problem and eject the plasma coils found atop the weapon and release the entire contents of the ignition chamber to the atmosphere. A well taught operator was able to survive such a fault by directing the weapon away. Less well taught operators get their heads melted by the overheated gas. After the release, an operator could adjust the cycle a bit and reuse the gun after it self-reloaded, however most operators didn't know how to adjust it and dump the gun considering it useless.

At worst however the mass would be too strong for the coils to held mid air and clung to the side of the chamber. After this there is no return and the heat directly transmits to the gun, breaking the delicate magnetic cycle. As a result the plasma mass was released inside the gun rather than on an enemy, which explodes the weapon and usually kills the operator. If the operator was quick enough he could hear the sound of the fault and try to throw away the weapon to survive. That however required a super-human level of reflex and instinct, which usually found on a Space Marine.

Adamab was a magnificent operator and survived so long with such a dangerous weapon. He knew that cleaning the weapon and applying the maintenance prayers was a crucial part in his survival.

"Lady!" came a shout from among the crates.

Adamab didn't look up from his delicate work. Guardsmen Gundal came into view. His feet was hardly stepping side by side and his chest rocked from one side to the other like he was off balance.

Adamab shook his head disapprovingly.

"You drank again." he said. It wasn't clear if it was a question or a statement.

"I-I did. Bu-bu a liffle." replied Gundal his mouth slurring.

Adamab turned his head as the stink struck him.

"What did you had? Motor oil?" he asked forcing himself not to belch.

"Semdek gave em to me. Good guy that Semdek. Very good guy." Gundal kept on babbling.

He was about to fall face first but held onto a black metal rod and stood upright.

"Did I ever told you that Semdek is a good guy?" he asked.

"Just now." replied Adamab.

"Hey lady." said Gundal trying to get attention.

He repeated several times when Adamab ignored him.

"Hey lady. Hey. Hey."

"What!" Adamab's patience ran out.

"Did I said..." began Gundal.

"Yes you did. Semdek. Amazing guy." said Adamab to shut him up.

"What you doing, lady?" asked Gundal trying to fix his blurry stare on Adamab.

"Oh, you playin with that thing, eh?" he asked seeing the plasmagun.

"It's dangerous you know. That gun." he said nodding seriously as if he was in any condition to talk seriously right now.

"I know. Why don't you take a rest?" said Adamab.

"I don't need no rest. I'm not drunk. Stop treating me like a drunk. Lady." said Gundal still clearly very drunk. A piece of spit ran down his mouth and dropped from his chin.

"Ladies shouldn't play with dangerous weapons." he annoyed Adamab.

Adamab fixed the back plate of the plasmagun and pressed a stud. The gun hummed steadily and started glowing blue. It's upper rods shone bright as the gun woke up.

Adamab's mouth moved as he prayed silently to appease the machine spirit of the gun. Hum of the gun kept rising until it became a blaring shriek.

"Oh, no! It's overcharged. It's going to explode." shouted Adamab holding the plasmagun away from himself in a two handed grip.

"Frak!" shouted Gundal and jumped behind a crate, he didn't manage the full jump and rather crashed on top of it, slamming hips first. Still he made it to the other side, using his arms to cover his fall.

He stayed there a moment and waited for the inevitable explosion. His mind raced to Adamab but he decided it was too late to save him. Gun could go critical any moment, he would be too late and probably kill himself in the attempt.

Except that it didn't. Inevitable bang of explosion never came and the background rumbling noise made by the thousand guardsmen kept on without distruption.

He rose his eyes over the crate and looked at Abamad, he was laughing his ass off.

"You prick." Gundal shouted rising to full height.

"You deserved it." Adamab said. Plasmagun had laid dormant in his hands. It ejected the upper rods and cooled off.

"What was that noise then?" asked Gundal hating himself for getting tricked.

"Stress test. Magnetic field tests itself to high levels. We don't..." he corrected himself "I don't want the magnetic field to fail while I fire it , don't I?" he said.

He locked the rods in place and placed the gun next to him when he was pleased with the outcome.

Two other guardsmen walked in. It was Aaron's men, young Abe and veteran Mosse.

"Welcome to our humble crates. Pick anyone you like." welcomed Adamab.

"Ho." said Gundal leaning on a crate and trying to look sober by staying upright.

Abe ran beside Adamab and sat next to him. His legs weren't reaching the ground so he started swinging them and banged on the crate once in a while.

Adamab tried to shuffle his hair but Abe pulled away disturbed. "Don't do that, I'm no kid." he protested.

"I never said you were." Adamab pointed out.

"Great idea, we can call you 'kid'." smiled Gundal sinisterly.

"I'm no kid." protested Abe.

"Course you are not, kid."smirked Gundal.

"So this is the debrief routine of the second platoon?" asked Mosse sarcastically, although his face stayed ever serious so it wasn't registered as sarcasm.

"We are all done. Except him." Adamab said nodding toward Gundal.

"Ready for what?" asked Gundal.

"Ready for the award ceremony. It's tomorrow." said Abe happily.

"What award?" asked Gundal.

"Medals. They're decorating us with shinies." said Mosse.

"I didn't heard of no medals." objected Gundal.

"That's because you were too busy getting pissed drunk." Adamab pointed out.

"It's going to be awesome. We are deemed heroes." shrieked Abe eagerly.

Adamab liked the young Abe. His energy and youth hopefulness passed onto others.

"I wish we could have left sooner." said Mosse.

"Why?" asked Adamab curious.

"I don't know. There is something here that doesn't feel right."

"What? The place is alright, I mean it's a little cramped sure but at least we got a roof over our heads." said Gundal pointing at the hangar roof above them. A hundred yellow lights shone back at them from the metallic roof.

"I meant the planet. I don't like this place one bit. And besides we already lost too much. I hope we can forget this place as soon as possible." he said.

Adamab bowed a head in remembrance of those who fall in the line of duty.

"We will don those medals for our martyrs" he said.

Mosse looked at Abe, he was still eagerly scanning around for anything to catch his interest. "So youthful, so happy." he thought and a flash of his own self appeared to his mind.

A young Mosse, happy and eager. He remembered the first day he joined the ranks of Naphtali 631st. Then he forgot all about it in an instant. Replaced with nothing but loss and sadness.

"Never again as long as I can do something about it." he thought to himself.

"What is it?" asked Adamab realising his horrible face.

"Nothing. Past." Mosse dismissed him.

Adamab got his answer and didn't push the subject further, everyone who was a member of the command squads long enough had heard the rumours about Mosse and the tragedy of Naphtali 631st. An entire regiment made up of ten thousand men and women was grinded to a handful of a hundred. And the worst part is that there was noone to blame. It was war. A particularly long war. Some rumour spreaders said they went up against chaos cultists, other more eager and imaginative ones included Chaos Marines. It never was disclosed what they fought against, but it changed them in a grim way.

After the mental examination almost half of the surviving guardsmen was given service discharge and placed in less demanding tasks such as menial work, some wasn't in any condition to conduct a life by themselves and sent to mental wards. Few joined pilgrim masses and travelled to shrineworlds for penitence and a life of sacred devotion. Remaining men and women were tough as nails. Those who are fit to continue service was put through physical examination, which included the testing of their faith. After that they were made into several veteran crack squads. Not Mosse though. He couldn't bear being with the remnants for they reminded him off the loss and demanded a normal drafting, which brought him to Naphtali 62nd. Colonel Ibrahim personally greeted him into the fold and placed him in Aaron's squad. Aaron did not question the Colonel's decision and accepted Mosse into his squad without a second thought.

"Stop being so sombre, tomorrow is a day of glory." yelled Abe trying to lift their spirit up.

"I'm sure it is, but first let it dawn." said Mosse.

---

Spears were given luxury compartments on the orders of Lord Patriarch, but Ioras knew that the rooms would actually be spying cages filled with ears and eyes.

He had informed his squad on the matter on a closed vox channel. That's why the squad was unusually silent. None of their usual banter or small talk. They polished their armours without removing them and took turns to polish each others. It was a killer task to be without serfs to help with the cleaning process. It was daily routine to tend to one's armour after daily practices and mend any superficial scars upon it. Worse wounds required the care of a Techmarine. However their cleaning was usually done by taking the armour off so the squad was left in an awkward position to tend to each other's armour.

Lord Patriarch offered servants to aid the marines in the process but Ioras refused, saying that no men is allowed to lay a hand on the sacred power armour.

It was a half-truth and Ioras didn't want any extra service that might transfer information back at the Patriach himself. Spies came in all shape and size.

"We could have used the cursed servants." growled Horatus while Deciaci polished his backpack with a long towel.

"Stop whining." Deciaci said slamming the towel on the grill of his backpack to shut him up.

Horatus mumbled something under his breath.

Ioras ignored the cursing marine and went for the door but Julius came beside him.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Need fresh air." Ioras made an excuse.

"Me too." Julius joined in on the excuse.

Ioras nodded with his head towards the door to usher him with.

They walked over the columned halls of the hive and reached a giant balcony. The railings were made out of marble and it's supporting columns were decorated with shapes indistinguishable to Julius.

"What is it, Julius?" asked Ioras.

"Why are we still here?"

"We are to join a ceremony." answered Ioras.

"No, I mean why are we still playing this pretend game that we are good little heroes. We know what the Echnisian Patriarch did."

"And what did he do?" asked Ioras as if wanting Julius to mouth the full accusation of his.

"He and the Lions smuggled alien artifacts and let the Orks run rampant throughout the system, hell, they even gave them ships to leave."

"And what are we to do about it?" asked Ioras.

"Shouldn't we be arresting him? Or even executing him for treachery." said Julius in a righteous spirit.

"Greed and power lures people into wrong actions, Julius. But believe me when I say this, there were many wrong actions taken in the Imperium's history, some were paid in retribution but many gone unnoticed or been allowed."

"We are to just let this go?" asked Julius.

"No, but we are still on this planet and we need to contact Galieo so that we can learn what is our next course of action."

"And after the contact we made to prosecute the heretics?" asked Julius.

"We will be told what to do. Trust in your Lords, Julius." Ioras said.

"I do, but I feel there should be something we should be doing instead of just waiting around."

"You have not changed one bit even after all this." said Ioras in an accusing tone.

Julius waited for him to continue.

"You need to learn patience, Julius. Or..."

"Or I would lead more brothers to death, is that what you are saying?" interrupted Julius.

"You need to get over this. I think you have the potential to become something more but you need to learn patience and learn to trust those who know better."

Julius looked ahead into the hive, they were miles up from the ground.

"You did well in the portal. Deciaci told me you saved him from certain doom. You just need to believe in yourself and more importantly to the wisdom of your lords." said Ioras.

"I will." said Julius holding the railing and bowing his head towards it.

He looked pathetic and self-loating as he leaned defeated.

Ioras clapped him on the shoulder pad and motioned to enter into the spire. As they motioned to enter, Iulius appeared at the doors and stopped abruptly as if he was in a hurry.

Ioras understood something was amiss and directly asked "What is it?".

"They have established contact with Lord Galieo, you must come at once."

---

A bright green holo-projection of Galieo stood in the middle of the communications room. A wide room filled with blinking command consoles and lit screens.

Ioras motioned the officers and servants to leave and waited for the door to close shut behind him before speaking.

When the double doors finally slid and slammed together, he moved towards the hovering image of Galieo.

"Lord Galieo." he said in relief.

"Ioras." acknowledged the Chaplain with a nod and added bluntly "Report."

"We have accomplished our objectives and learned information that needs to be taken to consideration by the Chapter."

"I assume you don't want to unveil these information at the moment." came the Galieo's voice.

They both knew that despite his promises the Patriarch would monitor their transmission.

Ioras nodded "Yes, I need to tell it to you directly. What are our orders, lord?" he asked.

"Golema will reach orbit in two days time. Then we will send in Poletemica to pick you up." said Galieo.

"We will be waiting." said Ioras.

"For the Emperor." said Chaplain and his giant green floating head vanished in an instant.

Ioras stood in the darkened room for a moment, then turned to leave.

---

Lord Patriarch's favourite study was wide enough to be called a hall instead of a room. A giant rectangular carpet covered the floor from one end to the other.

On the walls were hung portraits of imagined scenery. People drifted in the air through the clouds, some of them where seated on blazing stars as they sipped wine from invisible wine glasses grasped in their hands. Almost all of them were without clothing, save for floating pieces of coloured cloth that covered their groins. All the men and women were clean of any body hair and their flesh was muscular and without deformations. They looked as carefree and rich as most people who visit Echnisia.

Lord Patriarch Alfonzo looked at the painting as he stood in the harshly lit room. A great chandelier hung above his workroom but it was unlit. Instead a single light source from above struck Patriarch's giant desk, barely illuminating rest of the room.

"Do you know how much this painting cost to me?" he asked to the figures in his room. They were enveloped in shadows, their black frames was the only signifier that they were even there.

Lord Alfonzo continued.

"Painted by a great genius of a painter. I saw his work , 'Emperor In All His Glory', when I first visited the Great Hall of Guilliman on Macragge."

He stopped talking to fill his empty glass from a crystal spherical container.

"I was struck with the details of the painting, you see. Entire height of the wall was the canvas and it took years to be made. The majestic vision of the artist struck me and I decided to have something similar. I pulled some strings to find him and finally paid him enough to paint me several works of his. To his credit he did. As you can see his style is realistic and detailed. When he was done painting I realised he never even once bothered to put the image of the Emperor in the paintings. I did not mind, thinking it a choice of style. Afterwards he spent several years on our planet, indulging in our services. When he drained the resources that he earned for the work he did for me, he left Idagenia system and went away."

He realised that one of the shadowy figures were getting restless from this pointless story about a painter.

"After a while I heard he was charged as a heretic by the Inquisition and burned at the stake." he said turning to the restless figure as if making a point.

"What's the point of this amazing story?" asked Jeliha sarcastically as he walked into the beam of light.

Patriarch's facial expression did not change as he scanned the scarred face of the Spahkii Commando.

"The point being is that no matter how successful you are, all it takes is one slip to go down." explained the Patriarch.

Jeliha sneered understanding the obvious blame he received "I have not failed. We did as we agreed upon." he said.

"And how many Spears managed to return to the hive? All of them the last time I checked."

"They were too tough, we weren't properly equipped." defended Jeliha.

"You haven't even killed one." pointed out the old Lord.

"They are Space Marines. We lost men damn it." Jeliha protested.

"That is hardly my problem, Captain." replied Alfonzo turning to pour himself another glass.

"We had a deal..." began Jeliha.

"An unfulfilled deal." cut in the other figure who was still hiding in the shadows.

"You stay out of this, you cretin."

"Now that is no way to speak to a commissar, guardsmen." ridiculed Commissar Gus Ibrak.

He still stood within the shadows not revealing his face.

"Commissar my arse. You corrupt frakker." sneered Jeliha.

Gus Ibrak stood his ground, his expression still unseen.

"Now, now. Let's finish our business. I still have a long night seeing into the hive requisition reports." said Patriarch breaking the two.

"Yes, Our business." he said nodding to the Commissar. "Why is he still here?"

"He is here to report and see further business with me." said Alfonzo sipping his drink.

Jeliha looked at the caped Commissar with a disbelieving look on his face then back at the old Patriarch.

"You still owe me, Jeliha." said Alfonzo.

"Me? I lost men and equipment out there for our bargain. How am I to explain that to the command?" protested Jeliha.

"You can say that you were ambushed by a legion of grots for all I care. You failed to disable the Spears so that the Orks would mop them up."

"We tried."

"And failed. That means that your usefulness to me is over."

Jeliha looked at Alfonzo's serious face without blinking.

"Look, there was nothing I can..."

A blinding red flash cut through the room and illuminated it bright red for a blink.

Jeliha stood there as he tried to understood what just happened. Then he toppled onto the floor like a doll that was let go.

Gus Ibrak's ornately decorated gold colored laspistol stood aimed at where Jeliha's head was a second ago.

"That was a clean shot." commented Lord Alfonzo.

"Thank you, Lord." said Ibrak holstering his pistol.

"This clears out the loose ends?" asked Alfonzo raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"This clears out the loose ends." confirmed the Commissar with a nod.

---

Arrayed were the rows of Naphtali and a small group of Balharethi. Among them walked dozens of clerks. Clerks stopped in front of each and fixed the bronze colored medals onto their chests. Crowd cheered as the process went on and on.

"By the Emperor's Will, your defence of Echnisia shall be commemorated with these Red Offensive Honours." claimed Patriarch Alfonzo as the speakers boomed with his voice.

After the ordeal is done there was a great celebration. For the first time in their lives, Naphtali and Balharethi alike saw what the riches can bring. Patriarch did not cut back from the expenses and the service was nearly on par with aristocratic levels of luxury.

"This is amazing." said guardsmen Gundal dipping a chip into a tasty paste and gulping it down with some of this alcoholic beverage.

"What's this called?" he asked eagerly to the waiter who distributed the drinks around. A piece of chip flew from his mouth and irritated the waiter but the man responded anyway.

"It's called Echa-Wine, sir."

"I'm no sir. I'm Gundal." said Gundal as he eagerly grabbed another glass from the tray and drank the glass like it was a shot.

Waiter looked at him awkwardly, he was used to aristocrats holding the glass between their two fingers like it was a bug and take a sip once in a while. This wholesale slaughter of the Echa-Wine was incredibly awkward for him.

Gundal dropped the glass onto the tray "Now, that's better than amasec." he proclaimed.

"Maybe you should slow down. It might hit hard." warned the waiter.

Gundal ignored him.

"Don't worry about him, he is an expert in getting drunk." came a man's voice from nearby.

Speaker was a handsome young man who looked bored with the commotion around him.

Seeing the cool and reserved manner of this man, waiter regained his composure and stood upright. After hitting the piece of chip which Gundal lodged on his uniform away, he walked towards this man.

"Care for some, sir?" he asked.

Man looked up at him and the waiter was dumbstruck by his feminene and handsome looking face. After a while he realised he was staring.

"I'm sorry, sir." he replied and averted his gaze.

"No worries. I get that a lot." Adamab replied.

Beside them Abe was all too eagerly talking to a waitress. At the distance Malik and Aaron was sitting with a group of guardsmen. Waiters and waitresses buzzed around them.

"I can't believe we are heroes." said Cafur holding the medal in his hand and looking at it as if he is going to eat it.

"Getting shot over some piece of metal is not my idea of a hero." replied Imras as he was sitting there with bandaged up leg. He was shot in the leg during the engagement and now he had to carry a crutch around while his leg stood like a piece of wood.

"You should be grateful that the Emperor spared you, many weren't given such a chance." said Hilaa in an angry tone.

Imras was going to say something cynical but he saw Malik's penetrating gaze when he lifted his head up and nodded to Hilaa in acceptance instead.

Hilaa saw this and slapped Malik on the shoulder.

"I didn't said anything." protested Malik grinning.

Hilaa smiled back.

"Why doesn't he drink?" she asked nodding towards Alexis.

"Musan kavhim traditions forbade him from drinking alcohol." he said.

"Why?"

"Something to do with keeping the mind pure and having your soul balanced." he explained.

She nodded with an open mouth to that.

"We are no heroes." said Mosse thoughtfully.

Cafur looked at him "We are given medals." he pointed out.

"We were useful to them today. They would spend us like coins if they would had the need." replied Mosse grimly.

"Oh, cut the realistic view, Mosse." said Aaron.

"Today we won and yes, we are heroes. For one day maybe. But still we are." he said.

"To those who are not with us today. To the martyrs." he said raising a toast.

All raised with him.

---

"We are ready to leave, Munitorum transfer permits have arrived." said the chief engineer Abalafi.

The old men Abalafi was the real work behind the guns of Naphtali for however many years. His junior engineer, Semdek was nowhere in sight. Abalafi had released him from his duties for this night. Young people had much energy to celebrate during such events.

He handed a glowing dataslate to the Colonel.

Colonel Ibrahim took the slate and looked at it's contents.

"That was fast. Usually these things take months." he commented.

"Apparently we aren't leaving the system just yet. There is still Ork presence all around the planets of Idagenia."

"And our armour? I don't expect you to restore them fully in such short notice but still..."

"We did what we can do. Many are unsalvageable without Mechanicum aid. Rest will be set to fight while we are in transit."

"Good." nodded Ibrahim pleased with the news.

"The loss of men however, will never be replaced." said Abalafi in a sad old man's voice.

Ibrahim put a hand on his shoulder "Naphtali 62nd is coming to a close." he said.

He continued "I expect Munitorum to deem us under-strength very soon."

"Even if we get fresh reinforcements?" asked Abalafi.

Ibrahim nodded. "Even then. Naphtal is far away."

"What about outsiders?" asked Abalafi.

For an instance he saw anger and rejection flash through Ibrahim's aged eyes. "I would never accept such a violation of our customs. Naphtali 62nd is Naphtali." he stated.

Abalafi nodded as they are joined by Malik.

"Colonel." acknowledged Ibrahim.

"Call me Malik."

"I will call you Colonel." insisted Ibrahim.

An uncaring expression passed Malik features as he closed in and stood beside them.

"We are to be shipped I understand." Malik said.

"We?" asked Ibrahim.

"Haven't you checked? Munitorum transport number for both our ships is the same." said Malik with a grin.

"Is it?" he asked Abalafi which the old men nodded in response.

"Apparently Munitorum did not wanted to spare any extra ships for our regiment, hence shipping us with you."

"But that's-" began Ibrahim silencing himself. He detested joining up with outsiders for the long run.

"Don't worry Colonel, we will get along just fine." Malik said and turned to leave.

Ibrahim looked at Abalafi as if asking for a way out of this.

"We can't do anything. You know as well as I do that once Munitorum spoke, we obey." Abalafi said.

"I know." said Ibrahim in defeat.

"Let's hope we are not sent somewhere that is really demanding. We are under-strength as we are." Abalafi comforted the old Colonel.

"Whatever happens to us in the future, Aaron will lead them to a bright dawn."

"You still keep that boy in high regard." said Abalafi as an obvious fact.

"He has more potential than I ever had. I can't bear to lose him while an old-boot like me dwells in the Emperor's realm."

"That deathwish of yours is pretty unsettling. Why do you forsake yourself of the glories you won, if I may ask?" asked Abalafi, careful not to overstep their companionship.

"I have no deathwish, but I am old. I can't bear to drag my men down because of my failings. I should have gone but it seems The Emperor has his own design for me."

"You are a good men and a better commander. I think you should benefit Naphtali with your presence as much as you can. We will all pass away one day. Why not make the most of it?"

"You are wise as you are clever, old friend." said Ibrahim, acknowledging his support.

---

Next day the littered streets stood empty like they were never filled before. Naphtali tanks and artillery alongside infantry moved towards the hangar area outside the hive-spire. There was a giant carrier waiting for them. It had a huge eagle head instead of a cockpit and it's doors awaited open, invitingly.

Munitorum clerk accompanied by the chief loading officer oversaw the embarkation process. Carrier itself was not huge by Imperial standards. There were bigger ships which could bring down thousand of guardsmen and armour in one go. But this one was enough for the Naphtali and their companions.

Ioras watched the ship from one of the spire balconies.

"Entire system must be buzzing with activity for them to be able to leave so soon." he thought.

Horatus came beside him.

"When are we to leave?" he asked.

"Sometime tonight. We are still waiting for the call-sign from Poletemica." said Ioras.

"Good. Sooner we leave this cursed planet the better." Horatus stated his opinion.

"Even the guardsmen are leaving before us." he added.

"Yes, and we better leave before the Ork forces arrive at the hive." said Julius walking towards them.

"Will they be able to deter the Orks?" asked Horatus.

"They have enough forces and walls to keep the Xenos out." said Ioras.

"Not that I wanted to but I need to point out that maybe there is some way we can help them." said Julius.

"There is none. We don't have the power to fight an Ork army. Even if we did, I wouldn't spend a single marine for the corrupt aristocrats of this warped planet." Ioras said.

Julius fall into silence.

"They need to deal with their own problems, those scheming weaklings." said Horatus.

"We won the day once. And we were lucky. We are out of this planet as soon as we can. What happens after that is not our problem or our duty." Ioras said.

"I agree." said Julius watching the Imperial Carrier-ship slowly close it's giant gates and heat up the atmospheric lift motors.

With a giant boom the carrier fired it's vector thrusters. Even though the carrier was small compared to it's brothers, still the ship was huge and obstructed a huge part of the landing platform. Fire roared and intensified as the captain put in more and more thrust into the engines. Soon the huge eagle headed carrier lifted and slowly made for the void.

---

The day was finally over and the night began with the Patriarch's celebration ball. All the aristocratic and wealthy guests were taking the steps up to the giant entrance. It seemed almost odd to have such a giant structure situated atop the hive spire. But the spire itself was huge and more than able to house such architecture.

By all means Echnisia wasn't the most glamorous of planets within the Imperium. But it was able to keep up with it's counterparts. The mass of overly decorated guests were a bizarre sight to see. Some ladies had oversized skirts in the shape of a dome while others wore bizarre bodysuits with a mass of hanging cloth following in their heels. Almost all of them had an over abundance of make up on their face and an extreme quantity of jewellery. Gentleman were more refined clothed compared to their female counterparts. Most of them wore uniforms resembling military ones, full on with coats and sometimes with the addition of caps. Others were more alternatively fashionable and wore vests over specially tailored shirts and pants.

To Julius' eyes however all of them looked as bizarre as an Ork wearing a suit. He wasn't used to the spectacle of Imperial aristocracy and their less noble but wealthy counterparts.

Ioras on the other hand were more used to the sight before him. He had brought Horatus and Julius alongside him to the ball with the hopes that they would give him a reason to leave early. But both of them stayed ever silent and observant of this new environment they were both getting into.

"So? Impressed?" asked Ioras.

"None at all." answered Horatus in an offended tone.

"I would choose a military drill instead of this..." he hang onto the last word when he couldn't find it.

"Charade?" completed Julius.

"Yes." agreed Horatus.

"We have fought through the ruined streets against giant Ork machines, invaded enemy held trenches and now you complain?" asked Julius with a smirk.

"I would take the trenches anyday." replied Horatus.

"I want you two to behave like normal human beings. We get through this evening as easily as possible." warned Ioras.

"Yes, lord." both marines answered.

"Problem is, we aren't normal human beings." said Julius as they moved to join the mass.

Oncoming Space Marines caught a lot of stares as they came by. One Space Marine was an odd sight, three was interesting.

They moved through the crowd without acknowledging the other attendees. People parted sideways to give a wide corridor to the passing marines.

Julius saw confusion, interest and occasionally fear in the sea of eyes that stared at them. For those who had never seen a Space Marine before would find these super-human defenders to be disturbing at best and outright terrifying at worst. Human mind is used to the normal shape and characteristics of a human body, the oversized Space Marines caused this instinct to fire and in turn alarm the mind.

Luckily none of these people ever saw a Space Marine in combat. A Space Marine at peace and at war are completely different. In peace their training and conditioning is contained by will and obedience to orders. In war however they are truly free and their destructive actions would cause any normal human to sink into crippling horror.

This crowd considered their sight to be a novelty rather than a threat.

"I've never been stared so much ever." said Horatus under his breath.

"They're just curious." said Julius realising the dumb stares on the faces of many.

"This crowd makes me anxious. There are so many blind spots for assassins and attacker to hide." Horatus said.

"Then it is a good time to practice on your restraint, marine." said Ioras.

"Yes, lord." submitted Horatus but kept a sharp eye on the crowd for any potential dangers.

They climb the stairs with ease while other guests were annoyed by how many steps there are. Some aristocrats were carried atop palanquins held aloft by their servitors. Other more wealthy ones arrived via air and landed atop the giant building where the ball is taking place.

Building itself was huge and looked like a cathedral except that instead of gargoyles leering down from the battlements, there were statues of naked men and women stationed atop.

These ferrocrete citizens of the building were given various poses, some where lying comfortably while others reach out to one another or salute the crowd beneath them with open arms and open genitals.

Three marines had reached the door and saw a servant dressed in black clothing saluting the incoming invitees. When he saw the three armoured giants walk atop the stairs, his eyes grew wide and he stood even more upright than he was.

"Welcome, lords." he said bowing slightly with his two arms locked straight on his sides.

Ioras looked at the servant as they kept walking "We are being attended." he said as a matter of fact.

"Yes, of course you are lord. May I ask for any items you wish to be stored?" servant said.

Spears had came unarmed except for their combat knifes to the ball and their armour cannot be removed easily, so they really had nothing to submit to this man.

"What items?" asked Horatus, he seemed tense as if caught with contraband.

Servant shrunk a bit, moving his head an inch back, getting tensed from Horatus' tone, then he composed himself "Coats, arms and any other possessions you would like to..."

"We are fine." said Ioras cutting the man off mid-sentence and walking past him.

They entered the crowded hall. The first thing Julius did was to look upwards to see how high the ceiling was. It was higher than a chapel-barracks but it did not even compare to the chapter halls back on Aegenia, Spear's homeworld.

When the hall was full and everyone had a glass on their hands, Patriarch Alfonzo flanked by his children entered the hall from atop a balcony with a pair of stair cases leading to the ground floor.

"Esteemed visitors and honourable guests." said Lord Alfonzo raising a hand in presentation.

"Tonight we are here to celebrate the victory we have won." he announced.

Julius spent a thought on the word 'we'. In reality the Patriarch did nothing to help the Spears except sending some trash of a reinforcements, yet it was clear he advertised it to other as his victory. It made Julius angry just thinking about how low common people are compared to the Imperial Guard or Astartes. Petty politics and meaningless words ruled their lives instead of action.

Ioras had the same thoughts but it wasn't anything new to him. Instead he was scanning the crowd to see any reaction with hopes of deriving some information. How much these rich aristocrats were informed on the conflict outside their walls? Ioras assumed not much.

He saw several relieved faces in the crowd and confirmed his theory.

"Among us are some of the heroes that helped save our fair city, Emperor's Space Marines." announced Patriarch Alfonzo laying out a hand towards them.

Heads turned towards them in unison, some had quick nervous peaks at the marines while others took long stares taking in every detail of their oversized bodies enveloped in armour. Astartes grade power armour was a sight to behold and it was even bigger and stronger compared to Sororitas or Munitorum grade versions employed by other servants of the Emperor.

Patriarch cut his speech short and called everyone to have a pleasant and pleasurable evening.

Julius let out a bored sigh as everyone broke into chatter among themselves, his expression was drowned among the background noise. However Ioras heard it, yet he let such a thing go.

It was Horatus who pushed the subject further.

"I thought you liked these people." he quipped to Julius.

"Not when we waste our time with pleasantries." said Julius.

Ioras ignored the duo and kept scanning the crowd for anything interesting. The majority of the guests were not of the military wings of the Imperium so there was little he could relate to in this mass of people. He used his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop into some conversation and try to gleam information.

"...this crisis is clearly averted by the dedication of Lord Alfonzo himself..."

"...I heard that the next wave would be pencil belt dresses..."

"...well my friend, Emperor did not look upon your face the last time..."

He isolated many and focused on the individual noises one by one. His peering was cut short when his hearing caught a single soft voice through all the noise.

"There you are." said Agathe Ferdinand of Echnisia.

She walked at them smiling, her dress flowed behind her like a curtain. She wore a gown with a flowing tail but the dress were tight in her thighs and hips. The upper body of her dress had long arms ending with tulles at her sleeves. Her chest all up to her neck was covered with a corset like upper clothing which also ended with tulles at her neck. Her hair was finely decorated with small glistening silver clips clinging to the side of her head, above ear level. Her mass of hair was collected in a ponytail.

"You...I..." Ioras managed to say when he first saw her. She looked absolutely astonishing.

She had raised her head upwards to looked at his face and waited smiling for his to recollect his thoughts.

"I meant, you look astonishing, my lady." said Ioras finally composing himself and managing a small bow.

Their exchange gathered glances from the guests around them but Agathe was able to completely ignore the stares, it was a trait gained from a life in aristocratic circles.

"You look astonishing too." she said looking at the ornate power armour. Up close dozens of dents and old-repaired wounds were showing on the ages old armour.

She stood staring at it and marvelled at the traces of unending war. If the armour was a man's face it would be scarred into ugliness.

"How old is that?" she asked.

"Very." Ioras replied instinctively, he was driven into thoughts of old wearers and did not realised that his answer was clumsy.

He snapped up when he realised that she was looking at his face and expecting a better answer.

"I mean, it is with our chapter for long decades, my lady." he corrected his mistake.

She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Several hundred years old." he detailed further.

"That armour is older than our House?" she asked with an impressed expression.

"It is." he answered.

Agathe had presented Julius and Horatus to other guest in order to get rid of them and have some alone time with Ioras.

Julius was attracting attention with his somewhat acceptable social skills but Horatus were terrible at keeping company. After several tries he gave up and went to check out the fancy food atop the tables.

He saw Julius standing near a distant table with a crowd around him. Most of people around him was impressed and shocked in a positive way about whatever he was telling them.

"Look at him, getting all pompous and talkative now that he attracts attention." snorted Horatus to himself. He tasted a nearby yellow paste, whatever it was, and found the taste to be revolting. He gulped it down since he was used to eating anything, he had worse on battlefields when he needed to consume locally found food. Astartes metabolism was able to drain even the tiniest bit of value from edible products and able to keep an Astartes from starving even under conditions that would see normal men dead. In reality the yellow paste was a very expensive aperitif enhancer that was eaten to increase the Echa-wine's taste. However Horatus' metabolism completely neutralised some of the ingredients and turned the tasteful paste into a sour tasting thing. There were drawbacks to being the super human protectors of mankind.

Seeing his displeased expression a servant came beside him and tried to advise him on how to properly mix the food and drink. After fifteen minutes of careful tutoring, he failed. Horatus was not able to taste whatever the servant was trying to help him with.

"No, I don't get that taste." he protested.

Horatus' displeased mood was tensing but the servant spent years in the courts of raging aristocrats and their spoiled kids. So he had more patience and sensibility under his belt that would storm even an angry Astartes.

Servant understood that Horatus wasn't able to taste the food like he did and speculated it to be something with his condition, but he kept this observation to himself, knowing full well it never paid off to point out the weakness in those with power.

"Clearly these are not to your standards my lord." the servant said.

"Damn right they ain't. It's worse than those rotten vermin we had to consume." said Horatus.

"Rotten vermin, lord?" asked the servant his mouth curling into a barely checked expression of disgust.

"Yes, the battle dragged on and on and we had to consume whatever we had, and we had flock of vermin found within the sewers." said Horatus.

"Very good, lord." said the servant keeping a gag from coming up.

"If it pleases my lord I need to resume my patrol." the servant excused himself.

"Yes, yes, patrolling is good. It keeps the mind fresh." said Horatus as the man bowed and left.

He spent some more time watching Ioras chatting with that Echnisian girl. He tried every dish there is but only some felt good. He was chewing slowly as another servant came by towards him.

"Is everything to your satisfactory, my lord?" asked the bald man with a smile.

He looked at the contents of the table with a belittling look before answering.

"It's alri..." began Horatus and his mind snapped to attention as his instincts rose to alertness.

He listened to something he thought he caught with his enhanced hearing.

Servant was also alarmed from his blank stare and looked at him in puzzlement.

Horatus turned towards a nearby giant window leading to a balcony and crouched to one knee.

"Incoming!" he roared at the top of his lung.

A giant winged blurry shape crashed through the window and flew into the giant ballroom. At the same time a nearby wooden door cracked in two and slammed onto the floor, allowing passageway to another figure.

Winged shape floated in the air as his compatriot from the door came into view and stood several metres ahead of Julius.

Aristocratic crowd was dumbstruck by the sudden explosion of events and they stood around like dumb animals under a spotlight.

Figure from the door was bulky and wore a carapace armour that resembled power armour. His head was bare and there were several electronic tubes going into the back of his head from the armour itself. To complement his bulky stature his arms were connected to gigantic power-fists. Atop each power-fist was a row of bolt-launchers. He wasn't as tall as a Space Marine in his armour but still was a head higher than a comman man. He was a threatening sight to behold. The brute was an Orrus Spyrer.

Spyrers were bands of aristocratic girls and boys who are too eager to prove themselves to their House lords. They are given the top quality gear and sent to the underhive to hunt down the weaker gangs they encounter there. Most of them are spoiled young teens or young adults who just love blasting helpless people apart with their high-tech devices and weapons. Their armours varied and had the best quality protection system that can be afforded on the hive. These murderous young aristocratic swore an oath of fealty to their House lord, usually a Patriach or a Matriarch, and then set loose upon the ravaged wasteland called underhive to hunt and kill as their sick hearts desired. After they had accomplished their given task they were allowed to return to the aristocratic fold and take their place in hive spire politics. Many Spyrers make cunning and vicious politicians and dominate the pleasantry game of the spire as much as they know how to kill.

Atop the crowd hovered a being carried by his metallic wings. A Yeld Spyrer, stood mid-air in the great space of the hall, scanning the crowd below. Half his face was covered in photo contact augmentations. The metallic wires pierced into his skull and a metallic plate covered his left eye along with a robotic eye. His carapace skin-armour gave him ample protection on par with a stormtrooper of the Imperial Guard. He wore laser gauntlets, these complex devices carried a wrist mounted array of laser weapons and the fingertips of the gauntlets were iron fangs that can rip throats in close combat.

Yeld Spyrer was the first to react, he detected Lord Patriarch Alfonzo among the crowd and directed his laser gauntlets at him.

"You fall tonight, failed Patriarch!" he exclaimed in a loud voice.

Then he fired.

A barrage of lasfire streamed towards Alfonzo, each beam struck into a protective shield and dispersed as ineffective waves. Patriarch's shield-belt gleamed with energy as it retracted the protective barrier inside it. Two helmeted House Bodyguards appeared beside the Patriarch and blazed their own laser rifles at the Yeld.

Yeld's wings buckled as he gracefully flew out the way of the incoming laser fire.

Julius caught the sight of the Orrus Spyrer and was spotted in return.

"Lackey of weak Patriach, die!" said the Orrus Spyrer with his strong and manly voice.

He raised his gauntlets and fired several of his bolt-launchers. Bolt-launchers were primitive versions of powerful bolt-weaponry used by the Astartes. However their basic design allows it to be upgraded to be more effective.

Bolt rounds flew towards Julius with their rocket boosters blazing them forward. But Julius' reflexes were far more faster than the Orrus. He grabbed the giant wooden table before him from the side and flung it upwards. Wooden table was thick and clearly was very expensive. It rolled on it's side and blocked the path of the bolt rounds. Two rounds weren't able to penetrate the thick wood and exploded on impact. Their resulting force sent shockwaves through the carbon cracked the giant table into several big pieces. They also sent splinters all around, cutting into the guests standing nearby haplessly. The other two bolt round managed to punch through the weakened table and hit Julius.

One round glanced off his shoulder-pad, misdirecting itself on the curved surface. Last one exploded on his chest, sending Julius staggering backwards. Bolt round wasn't able to penetrate the armour but it was a close call. If Julius were to be hit from the gaps of the armour he could be severely damaged.

As the Orrus was firing Yeld had swirled around and spotted Ioras and Agathe among the crowd, far from Julius and Horatus.

"If I can't kill you, I'll kill your blood." said Yeld and fired a barrage at the duo. Ioras moved in a blink and embraced Agathe's small frame with his bulk. Laser shots burned Ioras' backpack and shoulderpads on several places but the damage was superficial.

"You okay?" he asked with an almost growling voice.

"Yes." Agathe only managed to say, shocked at the events.

Ioras' hand reached for a holster that is not there.

"Cursed!" he swore.

He grabbed Agathe with both hands, squeezing her thin belly carefully with his powerful gauntlets. He sprinted towards a nearby column and placing her behind it.

Despite the explosions and the invasion of the ball many of the guests were just staring at the spectacle before them, watching intently.

"Oh my, another assassination attempt." Horatus heard a women from nearby say as if it's a casual thing.

"I know, the last one was soooo boring. I mean, poisons? Really?" the next woman said.

"Who do you think is it this time?" chatted a nobleman in ear-shot.

"I suspect the merchants, but it might also be a coalition this time." replied another nobleman.

People near the combat ran away from it, but those near Horatus was fairly safe and they watched the assassination attempt like a show. They kept commenting on it as they sipped from their glasses and placed pasted delicacies to their mouths.

That was until he reached to his backpack and revealed the boltgun he was concealing this whole time.

"Oh look, look. That marine has a weapon. How admirably interesting." pointed one nobleman from nearby.

"It's going to get more interesting." replied Horatus as he aimed double handed with the boltpistol. He was still crouching and a perfect position to snipe the flying bastard off his high horse.

Yeld was still firing at Ioras but Horatus had his in his sights. Before he could pull the trigger a line of gossamer stuck to the side of the pistol and wrenched it away in a powerful pull from his hands.

Boltpistol stood in mid-air, hung by the spidery thread fired at it. At the end of the spidery gossamer line was another figure in technological armour. This one held onto a wall with ease like a bug. He had two claws each atop his gauntlets and a wrist mounted gun of curious design. A Malcadon Spyrer, a hunter specializes in stealth and ambush. His right arm had fired a silky substance from the spinarets on his wrist and kept him stuck to the wall. His black armour was decorated with tribal red lines that made him look more like a spider. His armour was more elegant compared to the other spyrer. He only wore a flak armour to cover his chest but his powered body-suit spanned all his body, covering the flak beneath. Pistons and spiky implementation adorned the sides of his legs and arms, empowering him to move fast and jump high.

Horatus used his enhanced vision to zoom in on the arm weapons wielded by the Malcadon and tried to discern their other purposes, offensive ones if there was any.

Astartes weren't really the experts on less than lethal weaponry, such as web spinners used by the Malcadon. They usually want their opponents dead, not alive.

But it was easier to discern the purpose of these weapons. Horatus realised that they had some strength to them being able to hold that man attached to the wall.

He grabbed a nearby metal plate and threw it spinning at his boltpistol. Malcadon's reaction time was on par with the Marine, but he was too late to react due to the unusual type of attack. Plate struck the strong line of web and managed to shear it in two. Boltpistol fell with a clung to the stony floor. Guests dispersed slowly as the fight between the two sides became full blown.

Julius hid behind another table but Orrus blew it apart with his bolt rounds. At the same instance Horatus made for the gun, Malcadon jumped pushing himself off the wall and landed behind Horatus. He used his two web spinners and spun a web at Horatus' legs from behind. Horatus fell chest first onto the stone floor, cracking it. He slided without cutting his momentum and grabbed the boltpistol. He sat with his feet bound and used the pistol's sickle shaped magazine to cut the threads.

Malcadon watched him intently, he was quite impressed by the strength of the Astartes and learned about his enemy by watching him.

Horatus aimed and fired at Malcadon when he was able to stand up. He missed. Malcadon was too fast and jumped sideways, normally an unacrobatic person jumping sideways would slam himself to the ground, but Malcadon landed sideways, rolled once and cartwheeled to his feet, keeping one feet on the ground like a well versed acrobat.

Horatus had wasted a round and realised that he would spent and entire magazine trying to his this guy. And that pistol was their only weapon.

He saw the barrage hitting around Julius and realised his wasn't a fair fight.

"Julius! Catch!" he shouted.

Julius turned his head towards him and saw the boltpistol in Horatus' grip. Horatus aimed the gun at the Malcadon pretending to shoot. Malcadon didn't took the bait and instead of running away, he ducked and fired a duo of web lines at the boltpistol, trying to grab it.

Horatus blocked the incoming webs using his other arm and flung the boltpistol towards Julius.

Malcadon could have caught the boltpistol mid-flight but now both his web spinners were full and he watched as the boltpistol landed at the hands of Julius.

"We can't have you get that, now can we?" asked Horatus with a sarcastic grin.

Malcadon released the useless webs from his spinner and readied them for a next shot. Doing this he cocked his head sideways as if saying "Why would you disarm yourself?".

Horatus understood this partially and produced a man's arm long Astartes combat knife from his backpack. "Oh, Don't worry. I'm going to do you with this." he said reversing the blade in his grip and taking a close combat stance.

In response Malcadon jumped, spun mid-air and landed on it's feet atop a nearby dais gracefully as if in challenge.

"At last, some fun." said Horatus charging ahead towards the spidery adversary.

---

Ioras was hard pressed. Yeld Spyrer was up in the air and there was no way he could get to him. His barrage of laser fire ineffective against his power armour so far. But any lucky shot could cause him harm, or worse, hit Agathe.

He once again grabbed Agathe and sprinted towards another column. Laser fire flickered around the column creating tiny scorch marks.

"What are we going to do?" asked Agathe.

"No idea." answered Ioras.

"I have this." she said showing a ring in her finger.

"What's that going to do?" asked Ioras, checking from the side to see if Yeld was trying to flank them. In response several laser bolts slammed at the stone column melting small dots on it.

"It's a digital weapon." she said.

"Digital? One of those small devices?" asked Ioras.

"Yes."

"What's it loaded with?"

"Plasma, I loaded it myself." she answered.

Ioras looked at her for a second "Carrying a plasma weaponry on your finger is insane." he said.

More laser fire landed around them, hitting the stone floor this time.

"How many shots?" asked Ioras.

"One." said Agathe.

Ioras revealed his head from the corner and checked the range. Yeld was staying away from them keeping a good range.

"He is too far for a lucky shot." said Ioras.

"Why is he firing from afar? We are unarmed." Agathe pointed out.

"Astartes are never unarmed. He is wise to keep a distance. He knows we have no weapon to respond at this range."

Then he added "Can you shoot that device accurately?"

"Sure I can." answered Agathe as if offended.

"You only have one shot." warned Ioras.

"I can do it."

Ioras looked at her, he grabbed her from the shoulder with one hand and grabbed the decorative elongated dress-tail with the other. With a ripping sound he tore the useless tail from her dress.

"What are you-" she said.

"Can't have that useless thing slow you down. It was a liability." he answered.

"Well, many guests here would kill you with their bare hands for ruining this dress." she joked.

"I'll take my chances." said Ioras without a smile.

"What's the plan?" she asked.

"You sure that thing won't explode?" asked Ioras to make sure.

"I'm sure..." said Agathe "...I hope" she corrected with a quick pause.

Ioras looked at her with a serious gaze.

"I'll be okay, don't worry." she comforted.

"We move close to him, I will be your shield. Once we get within range, roast him." said Ioras.

"You're going to get shot?" asked Agathe displeased with such an idea.

"His laser weapons are no match for my sacred armour." replied Ioras, trying to sound righteous as best as he can.

"I never knew Astartes were crazy." she quipped.

"Not as crazy as carrying a plasma ring." he returned the quip.

Agathe smiled "Whenever you're ready."

"Stay behind me and move fast." said Ioras.

They both waited in silence for a second before Ioras said "Go!".

Ioras came into full view and braced the laser fire as Agathe his behind him. They covered ground moving fast paced. Ioras kept his speed at a minimum which will keep Agathe behind him. If he had ran away it would expose her to certain death.

He braced a shower of laser fire as they moved together.

---

"Come out to view, you useless dog of house!" said Orrus with a broken low gothic.

"I'm not anything of the House." replied Julius from behind a broken piece of table. He was almost covered by the giant remain of the table. He had Horatus' boltpistol in his hand.

"I need to finish this guy fast and help Ioras." he thought.

He would be needing to spent the minimum amount of ammo so that they could kill that flying bastard assassin.

"I thought marine have courage, not coward." Orrus Spyrer mocked.

Julius ignored his and revealed himself to take a shot.

Orrus was slow to react and Julius had a clear shot. He aimed directly at the open head. One well placed bolt round would finish this brute off. He fired. Bolt round flew into his face and exploded into piece of metal shards as it struck a protective shield barrier.

"Warped fiend." cursed Julius as he realised that there was a flickering force field protecting the Orrus on top of his armour. He had wasted a precious shot and also his gun was useless against such a shield. He needed to preserve the ammo for others and cannot try out shooting every bolt round at Orrus.

"Gaaargh!" roared Orrus as he fired several bolt rounds at Julius. Three shots went wide and exploded around Julius, throwing stone marble and wooden pieces around. One round struck him on the shoulderpad and exploded. Force of the bolt round knocked him sideways and he fell to his side, luckily his drop had put him back in cover.

Orrus charged at Julius' position and crashed through the remaining wooden pieces covering Julius. His oversized crushing fists splintered wood apart and he was on top of the Marine.

Orrus punched downwards and Julius rolled sideways just in time to escape from the incoming death. His crushing fist slammed the stone floor and created a huge crackling sound. Floor was cracked like a tank fell on it. Spyrer agent kept up his attack. He moved to reach Julius so he could land a killing blow on the downed Space Marine. But Julius was no neophyte, he was an Astartes sergeant. Although he was demoted to marine rank due to his actions, he still retained the experience.

He fired once, blowing part of Orrus' lower leg armour in a shower of metal pieces and wiring. Orrus lost his balance and sprinted forward to keep himself on his feet. He got past downed Julius and crashed into a nearby column crushing a huge chunk of it.

Julius used this moment to get back on his feet. His adversary came out in a roar from the debris cloud and swung a punch at Julius' head. If the fist had connected it would crush Julius head into a pulp. But Julius dodged his upper body and returned a blow at Orrus' chest. Giant Orrus staggered backwards, his chestplate was cracked by the immense blow. Julius felt that he had cracked several ribs with his punch. Orrus raised his fist to fire his bolt-launchers at close range but Julius was faster to react.

Before Orrus could pull the trigger with his thought, Julius closed in and grabbed Orrus' hands with his own. He had dropped the boltpistol while attempting the grapple.

Julius forced Orrus' deadly arms upwards, a blink later bolt-launchers fired their contents into the ceiling.

Orrus used all his strength to dislodge the marine's grip from his arms, but even with his augmented armour systems he was less powerful than a Space Marine in full power armour.

Julius seperated his arms to sides with a sickening crunch, ripping tendons and wiring apart.

He had won, but killing this man would be so pleasurable for him. Something in his mind kept wishing for death. Was it his own death? A redemption for his brother's demise? Or the death of this assassin?

It was the death of this assassin.

"Your last mistake was to get close to a Space Marine." Julius said with an evil grin on his face.

He was enjoying this greatly.

He headbutted the Orrus directly at the side of his forehead. His thick Astartes skull had crushed this man's skull in. There was a clear spherical cave-in at Orrus' head.

Julius watched his face, Orrus looked blankly at him. Then a stream of blood came pouring from his nose, spilling over his mouth and down his neck.

Orrus collapsed from fatal brain trauma and died.

Julius looked at the corpse and savoured the kill for a moment. Orrus laid there like a broken ragdoll, his arms bent all wrong and with a face covered in blood.

He lifted the boltpistol from the ground before going into further combat.

---

"Now!" roared Ioras as he parted sideways to reveal the crouched form of Agathe behind him.

She held up a fist towards the flying Yeld. With a huge whine the digital weapon fired forth a ball of burning plasma. Ioras was at a shock that such a tiny device can produce such a powerful shot. Yeld tried to get away by swinging sideways in mid-air but his left wing got caught by the plasma and melted instantly. He lost his lift and crashed onto one of the statues below, breaking it apart.

Ioras charged at the downed Yeld but he was greeted by a hail of laser fire. He ignored the incoming laser shots trusting that his armour will hold them off. Yeld raised both his fists towards the incoming marine and opened up a full powered barrage. Ioras got shot almost fifteen times and crashed onto his shoulderpad as one shot burned into his neck.

Yeld rose up to finish the marine, he wasn't going to take any chances and shoot him with a well placed shot this time.

Ioras looked up at Yeld, he knew he had second for the kill shot to come but he had a plan. He was going to take the shot on his shoulderpad and then launch forward and capture the Yeld alive.

A never ending second passed between the two, Yeld was taking aim from him robotic eye reticule while Ioras was expecting the shot to be fired so he could act.

Yeld's head exploded in a shower of gore, painting the remnant of the broken statue behind him red. Spyrer's body collapsed in the instant it was shot, it landed with a clang and it's mechanic wing spasm as dead nerves fired, wing opened and retracted for a few times before settling in it's death.

Ioras looked at the dead Yeld helplessly. He wanted to capture the assassin alive but now that chance was forever gone.

He turned his head to where the shot came from. Julius was standing amidst the ruined dining tables with a smoking boltpistol in his hands.

---

"Stay still." growled Horatus as he swung the combat blade towards the Malcadon. Spidery assassin jerked his body like it was made of rubber and dodged the incoming slash.

It was the third time Horatus managed to murder the air around Malcadon but not the Malcadon himself.

Malcadon slashed at Horatus' side and cut out black wires from the abdomen of his exposed inner armor.

"You cursed..." said Horatus through gritted teeth and stabbed forwards in return. Malcadon was on par in speed with Horatus and he jumped backwards to let the attack go to waste.

Horatus stepped forwards to close the gap. Malcadon fired webs at Horatus legs and bind them together. Horatus slammed onto the ground as Malcadon jettisoned another line of web to the roof and pulled itself up in one quick motion. Horatus turned on his back just in time to see the Malcadon diving towards him with one of his double bladed claws aimed at his head.

He roared and raised his blade in front of his face. Two claws slashed around the combat knife but stopped short of cutting into his meat when the middle webspinner had struck the blade itself.

Horatus was going to grab the Malcadon, he knew that he was the stronger one and would be able to rip this puny man's arm out with his bare hand. His hand snapped towards Malcadon's wrist but Malcadon was quicker. He jumped backwards, rolled full two circles in mid air and landed on his feet with his web spinners aimed at Horatus.

Horatus rose but web hit him. Malcadon fired more and more web until Horatus' entire arms and chest was wired together. It was impossible for a normal man to escape from such an entanglement. But Horatus was no mere man.

He rose on his feet and then fell on his knees, his legs were still bound together. With a roaring shout he pulled his arms away from his chest. For a second nothing happened but then a ripping sound came and tiny lines of web started started to snap with pinging sounds.

Malcadon watched in amazement as his adversary ripped the webs apart and freed his arms. Next Horatus slashed upwards in one motion and severed the lines trapping his legs together. He jumped upwards from the kneeling position and rose to his feet in a single act.

Malcadon cocked his head sideways as if impressed by Horatus' feat.

"This is not your day." said Horatus as he lunged forwards. Malcadon tried spinning his web at Horatus' feet once more but Horatus was wise to him and jumped. He almost flew compared to human standards of jumping and landed atop Malcadon's feet with a sickening crunch. Then he kicked his leg in, broking his femur bone into several dozen pieces. Malcadon jerked backwards making an arc with his back as immense pain struck him. He fell on his back. After a second of torment he fired both his web spinners at Horatus' face, trying to blind him. Horatus put his arm in the way and his arm got entangled. Malcadon pulled himself towards Horatus, hoping to land a killing blow before the marine can finish him. One of Malcadon's arms spinners was connected to the web so he struck with the other. Horatus jerked his head and dodged the incoming blow, he felt the gleaming blades rush past his ear. He was face to face with Malcadon but it was over. He stabbed his knife at Malcadon's stomach twice, cutting anything that was in his path. Malcadon squealed with a female voice.

"Oh you were a women? Sorry, I couldn't tell." said Horatus snidely and spitted on her face.

She screamed as the acidic saliva eat at her flesh eye and corroded her face-mask onto her skin.

Horatus cut the webs holding them together and dropped the Malcadon on the ground. She was squirming in pain on the ground and Horatus left her to die slowly.

First she arched towards left, then towards right. Her hands were paralysed from the pain and there was nothing she can do as her eye corroded into fleshy goo by the acid. Her stomach churned out blood as she moved, her broken leg was standing backwards.

Horatus looked at her squirm for a moment then stepped on her face with his boot.

"This is how we deal with bugs." he said.

With a crunch his boot sunk into Malcadon's head.

---

"We could have captured him." said Ioras.

"He was shooting at you." defended Julius.

Horatus came to view while they were arguing.

Ioras saw the blood on his armor and shook his head.

"I'm not even going to ask." he said.

"I crushed her head like the bug she was." boasted Horatus.

"Good one." supported Julius.

Ioras sighed but it was done.

"Who were they?" asked Horatus.

"And why did they attack us?" added Julius.

Ioras looked towards where the Patriarch is "I have a very good idea why."

His vox churned to life and was filled with a crackling vox transmission.

"This is Poletemica, come in Lord." came in the pilot's voice.

"Ioras responding."

"Lord Ioras, proceed to evac-point five oh six seven for immediate lift."

"On our way." said Ioras.

He locked his helmet and voxed the rest of the squad.

"Understood, lord. We are moving now." came in Iulius' voice over the vox.

Patriarch Alfonzo understood what was going on and came towards them with two of his bodyguards at his heels.

"You...you! You destroyed everything!" his old finger was shaking as it was pointed at Ioras.

"These were your men weren't they Lord Patriarch?" asked Ioras throwing the pleasantries out the window.

"How dare you accuse me such. You have no proof."

"Emperor's Astartes don't need proof. This was your doing, you have been lying to us in many things."

"I did no such thing." he said standing hard on his crane.

"Enough of your lies. You are revealed to be a hazard to our operations but we overcame them nonetheless."

"I gave you the command of the forces you so led into the enemy territory."

"Only after you crippled them to cover your dirty secrets." Ioras said.

"What secrets?" came in Agathe angrily.

"This House is smuggling alien artefacts from a nearby tomb." revealed Ioras.

"Lies!" roared the old Patriarch, his voice stayed strong and did not thin despite his shriek.

"Tomb? Is this true, father?" asked Agathe snapping her gaze at the old men.

"They are lies of these...these..."

"Careful, Lord Patriarch." warned Ioras.

"You judge me so easily, now what? Are you going to shoot me? In front of my children and guests?" asked Alfonzo.

Agathe looked at Ioras expecting the worst.

"I will do no such thing. An Ork army is marching towards the hive as we speak. Your hive and your house will need a leader to defend them against the Xenos." said Ioras.

"You held such a vital information from us?" said Alfonzo.

"You tried to get us killed, so be grateful that I even warned you of the Orks." said Ioras.

"We will be leaving this planet and leaving you to your own defenses. An Imperial hive city is more than adequate for such a task, only you will need to find the courage in your hearts." added Ioras.

"I own this planet! Do you think you can just accuse me with your lies and then leave unhindered?"

Ioras considered this threat for a moment and then snapped a purity seal from his armour and handed it to Agathe.

"Behind this seal is the coordinates to the tomb. Maybe it is time someone else rules this house." he said as Agathe read the seal.

"Don't you corrupt my daughter with your lies." said Patriarch.

Ioras ignored the old man.

"You are capable of leading this House, Agathe. Once you are the Matriarch of this House, we, Spears can be your allies. But such an opportunity now rests in your hands." Ioras said to her.

Agathe looked up with a stern look on her face. That look snapped the memory of their first encounter back to Ioras' mind. That battle-fatigued and tired eyed Agathe.

"You can go." she said.

"What?" roared Alfonzo.

"I always knew, father. I didn't exactly know what was going on but I knew that something was corrupted in this house. Apparently that thing was you." she said.

"Don't you dare judge me, girl. I did what I had to do, everything I have I clawed with my nails to gain them." snorted Alfonzo.

"By the authority given to me by the Emperor of Mankind, I hereby declare thee, Agathe of House Echnisia, to be the commander of all forces loyal to the Imperium on Echtesia. And a wise Matriarch to thy Noble House." said Ioras connecting his two hands hovering atop Agathe's head.

"You have no such authority." said Alfonzo.

"Yes, the right is mine!" shouted Eduardo the second from behind his father.

Ioras looked at Julius who was holding the boltpistol. Julius took the cue and cocked the gun as in making a point.

"I have all the authority when it concern the security of the Emperor's lands. I will take no authority from a mere man." Ioras said.

Alfonzo and Eduardo remained silent.

"Do you have enough backup to keep that position?" asked Ioras to Agathe.

"I do."

"Call your guards here so that your father or your brother would not..." began Ioras.

Agathe grabbed a laspistol from one of Alfonzo's guard and shot the old man in the face. Patriarch collapsed on his back, dead.

"There won't be any need for that." she said.

She aimed with the laspistol towards her brother, who was already fleeing. Crowd of gathered guests parted sideways and gave Agathe a wide corridor to shoot through, they knew what was going on. In Imperial aristocracy coup and murder was casual business.

Eduardo was shot in the back and collapsed on his face, breaking his neck.

Ioras watched the whole event in amazement. When done with her murders, Agathe turned to Ioras with a steely look in her eyes.

"You are free to leave Echtesia, Lord Ioras. You will not be hindered and I expect the cooperation you promised once you get back to your chapter."

"Thank you, my lady. I will inform my Lords of the situation here." said Ioras.

"And House Echnisia will be free of any charges of smuggling alien artefacts I assume." said Agathe.

Ioras looked at the dead Patriarch "The perpetrator is now dead, so the sin is redeemed." he said.

"Good to hear that. Now if you will excuse me I have a city to defend." she said.

Her bodyguards snapped to attention behind her.

"I have no doubt you will be victorious." said Ioras bowing to the Matriach of the House Echnisia.

Julius and Horatus did likewise.

---

"Embark with haste!" roared Ioras as his men ran towards the hovering Thunderhawk. Strong wind blew as they ran towards Poletemica. The back hatch of the Thunderhawk opened with the robotic sound of pistons as the Thunderhawk's strong engines kept it aloft.

Marines entered into the hatchway one after the other. Cussax, Herean, Deciaci, Fextus, Achagon embarked. Rexus and Iulius waited at the sides covering the embarkation with their heavy weapons ready.

"All clear." said Rexus as they saw Ioras and others arrive.

"Move in." ordered Ioras and the devastators went up the ramp.

Ioras slowed down as Julius and Horatus climb up the ramp. He turned and looked at the hive spire one last time.

All the lies, the death and war. Were they worth it? Did it mattered at all? For the Emperor it did. It was His land and they ended the source of the Ork menace that was invading it.

"Lord?" asked Julius waiting for him.

"Squad Extus, all objectives completed. No casualties." reported Ioras into his mission log and cut the log off before joining the others.

Thunderhawk Poletemica fired it's engined and roared skyward, disappearing into the mass of clouds.

-End-

---

End Notes: Well people, the first book is over. I prepared something special for those who actually read this far. It's on the deviantart page, also link below. Now I will be editing the story, fix gramar errors and so forth. Then I hope to collect it in pdf form and upload it somewhere. I would also upload to this site as I edited the story into chapters so hopefully it would be easier to follow. Also make a review, if you don't review you ain't contributing.

Special gift link:

lambdagod.deviantart.com/art/Medal-wp-625879395