CHAPTER 5 ~ A PRINCE OF TRAITORS

Men ought either to be indulged or utterly destroyed, for if you merely offend them they will take vengeance

― Attributed to the philosopher Machivellius, M2

The warbird sat in the centre of a stretch of open fenland, the angular, metallic structure an incongruous sight set against the flat, featureless landscape and huge, grey Grollan skies.

Agust Vesnius Kaeso emerged from the marshy undergrowth skirting the eastern approach and made his way across the open marshes to the lander. He'd staked out the location two hours before the agreed rendezvous, but he'd watched the landed shuttle from his hidden position for another hour, just to be certain. This spot was some ten kilometres north of the Imperials' position, yet — as hemmed in as the enemy were — that was no reason not to exercise caution. It had been as a newly initiated space marine that his aptitude for foreseeing the potential for traps and ambushes had first brought him to the attention of the older warriors of the Tristessera; warriors like Silenus Rand.

"Lord Kaeso." The man before him in the loading bay bowed and remained looking at the floor. He was the shuttle's pilot, one of the Tristessera's mortal slaves. Kaeso did not know the man's name. There was no point. These mortals died so easily, and so often.

"Lords Zarilah and Florea made contact shortly after our arrival," the man said. "They will not be making the rendezvous. They hunt the enemy."

Kaeso nodded. He kept his expression neutral as he strode across the bay. "Where is Silenus?"

The man scuttled out of his way, still avoiding eye contact. "In the apothecarium, Lord."

Kaeso found Silenus, as the man had suggested, in the aft storage area that had become a makeshift field hospital and laboratory. The apothecary's plate was stained red with gore. The remains of a Grollan PDF trooper lay before him. The body was female. It remained whole, but the stomach area had been opened, flaps of skin pinned back to keep open the wide cavity in the woman's gut.

Kaeso smiled at the sight of the apothecary. While true warmth between the warriors of the Tristissera was rare, Silenus was held in genuine respect. It was he who had performed the various procedures which had elevated Kaeso and other members of the warband to transhuman status. While bastardised and improvised, it was still that same process that had created the first space marine legions.

Silenus put down his tools as he saw Kaeso enter. "Vesnius Kaeso," the apothecary greeted him. "How goes your hunting, brother?" The older space marine's hair was short and grey. Unlike Kaeso, he had the preternaturally white skin and enlarged, black pupils common among their lineage.

"Clearly, my prey was not as entertaining as the one my brothers hunt," said Kaeso. "They have seen fit to ignore my order to resupply."

Silenus pursed his lips. "Allow me to guess — Zarilah?"

Kaeso nodded. "And Florea." He'd kept his face a mask before the mortal, but Silenus, with his enhanced perception, would identify the micro-expressions of fury in his features.

Two bowing slaves entered the medical area. Kaeso allowed them to begin the removal of his battle plate. It was a relief to feel it coming free. He had been in his armour for two weeks straight and he yearned to be free of his own body's stench.

The apothecary extended a sharp implement from his gauntlet and resumed his probing of the cadaver. "Calin Florea has always been a follower, easily swayed. Save your wrath for Taln Zarilah."

Kaeso lifted his arms to allow the mortals to remove his pauldrons. He had no fear of being overheard. The armouring slaves' hearing had been removed so that their masters could converse freely in their presence. "'The Blade of Heroldar' remains a thorn in my side. I am leader, yet Zarilah believes that his status as a veteran of the legion wars means he can disobey my orders and openly undermine me." He grunted. "Do you know what he calls me when he thinks I do not overhear him? The Ultramarine."

Silenus managed to perform a gesture resembling a shrug in his power armour. "So, kill him. Surely you must have considered it?"

"Of course I have," Kaeso said, "Do you imagine I don't dream of putting a stop to these endless challenges to my authority?"

Silenus smiled, baring his teeth. "And leave this backwater conflict, perhaps? Without Zarilah, the others would fall in line. No more seeking easy prey to satiate the lust of the old guard." He wagged a finger at Kaeso. "Maybe even join the Warmaster Abaddon's crusade — a chance to test your generalship in a true war, hmm?"

Kaeso felt the heat rising in his cheeks. The apothecary somehow always saw the thoughts he tried to keep hidden. "I cannot challenge Zarilah and that is the end of it. He is the greater swordsman. I would lose — and so would the Tristissera."

Silenus shook his head. "It has always been the way in our brotherhood that we respect only strength. The weak perish. Set an example to the others."

The body on the table emitted a weak groan. Kaeso raised an eyebrow.

Silenus nodded. "Yes, still alive. Barely. I flatter myself that I have further extended the limit of mortal suffering possible before death." He gestured at the woman. "I've injected her with diluted Astartes combat stims. It will kill her eventually, but right now it's allowing her to survive despite missing several organs."

Kaeso frowned. "I applaud your efforts, but our stockpile of stims is dwindling. This feels like a waste."

"Do not fret, my leader," Silenus said. "I drew it from a collection of Novamarine supplies we took in a raid many years ago. Their stims have proven incompatible with our line's physiology.

"I've also fitted an explosive device in the wall of her stomach. Once armed, it will be quite impossible to move her without triggering it." He gave a small smile. "Of course, when her comrades discover her and find she is still alive, they will try."

Kaeso nodded. It was an old Tristissera ruse, to booby-trap the enemy's dead, but Silenus had raised this trick to a new level of artistry by keeping the carrier of the payload alive. It was a very effective tactic. The horror created by weaponising casualties — and the subsequent effect on enemy morale — was considerable.

And it is done for that reason and no other?

The thought was given voice only in his mind, but Kaeso knew the disgusted tone. It was the rational general within him, the one which silently cursed the Tristissera's most self-indulgent excesses. It railed against every indulgence he bestowed upon his warriors and every sop granted to their perversions.

And yet, it was all necessary, Kaeso told himself. The Tristissera granted power on the basis that their leader granted them opportunities for slaughter and atrocity. Once those outlets were denied to them, they would turn on him.

"After all, I am a prince of traitors." Kaeso reminded himself bitterly.

He only realised he had spoken aloud when Silenus laughed. "A philosopher of Old Terra once said, as a leader, 'it is better to be feared than to be loved'".

Kaseo snorted. "That sounds like one of the axioms of the Primarch."

Silenus regarded him with a curious expression. "Ah yes, but which one? I met several of them." A thin smile spread on his lips. "They were all quite mad, you know."

The apothecary resumed his work. Kaeso said nothing as the armourers finished washing him. Once, freshly initiated to the ranks of the Tristissera, he had eagerly absorbed whatever nuggets of insight Silenus Rand and the other veterans chose to share about the age of the Primarchs and the old legion.

More recently he'd found that the more he learned, the less he wished to know.

"There is no glory to be found in the past or the future," he muttered, "only horrors."

If Silenus Rand heard this, he pretended not to.