A/N: Due to the powers of democracy on my pa-treon, I have written a R-18 romantic comedy snippet (~4800 words) about Maxil and Kaelyth (the human smuggler and Aeldari Outcast from "Interlude - A Trader's Tale").
There were 5 options regarding extra perks for pa-treons.
An Audio Book version of this story.
Commissioning Art for the story.
Proofreading/Discussions of people's story ideas.
AMA sessions.
Yet, the one that got voted in was the NSFW content.
As for why I chose the 2 OCs from the interlude to write this… I didn't have any characters that were that intimate at their relevant parts of the plot, so they were one of two pairing I could use.
This is not really relevant to the story. I just needed to vent. I'm proud of my work, but not too proud that I had to do it.
- Europa: over 300 hundred years ago -
My mother's hands tightened on my shoulders as we stood with the other noble houses of Europa. All 400 stood together under their banners and heraldic flags that waved in the dry desert winds. The various entourages and processions of each house sprawled out behind us for hundreds of meters. All of us were kitted out in the finest regal dressings our environmental suits would allow. The poisonous winds from the Mid-Terranean basin blew towards us today, so such a gathering would have usually been postponed.
But today was no ordinary day.
The winds died down, causing our flags to fall limp. Only the banners were left to display each house's heraldry; their history and beliefs summarized in a single symbol. I had memorized each and every one under my mother's careful tutelage. At one time, I would have smiled, remembering the legends and stories associated with every house. Now, the banners hung limply from their supports, like the corpses of hanged men.
We waited in the silence left by the once whistling air and flapping flags.
Then there was a thump.
We could all feel the shockwave through the sands, quickly followed by another. The sound of thousands of heavily armored soldiers marching in unison was traveling through the earth.
The intake valve on my mother's mask began to flutter, and my father wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her.
Far behind us stood mountainous ridges of black obsidian glass. The old stories called them the Alpine Scarps, and spoke of their formation. Atomic fire rained from the skies, suffusing everything in murderous heat and poisonous light. When the first people of Europa emerged from their shelters, the mountains and hills around them had been replaced by blackened crystals of silicon. These molten mountains of glass were infused with the poison of atomics. Geiger counters would begin screaming at their base.
Time and wind hand chipped away at these first crystals, sharpening the once rounded edges into microscopic knives and needles. No man could cross these radioactive masses of flensing blades. No vehicle could hope to climb the almost vertical cliffs. They had been a natural barrier, protecting our lands from the overly ambitious Francs and the meticulous Jermans.
Now, these mountains were the wall we were pressed up against by the invaders.
The first sign of them was through heralds who came demanding an audience with each of the 400 houses of Europa. Each one spoke of a new empire growing out of the splintered Achaemenid with allies such as the backwards Yndonesics and mythical Terrawatt clans. They told tall tales of giants in impregnable armor unifying the Nord and Mid-Afrik polities, as well as the hive cities in the lands of the Indoi.
My father found the herald who came to us amusing, and invited him into our home as a guest. He wanted a rambunctious fool to act as entertainment for his court, and the far-fetched tales of the herald were imaginative, if nothing else. The herald's stay went well until the matter of faith was brought up.
The herald claimed to be an atheist, an immoral breed of human who had no character nor conviction; according to my father. He spoke of his lack of faith as enlightenment, angering everyone in the court and embarrassing his host, my father.
The herald was beaten until he bled, and thrown out of the city gates to be picked apart by the scavengers of the wastes.
"Such a fate is fitting for the godless folk. He should be right at home with the other miscreants." My father said.
A few days later, we were invaded by the forces spoken of in the fantastical tales of the heralds.
They came from the Mid-Terranean basin, traveling over the toxic fumes on flyers we had never seen before. They flew in under the radar, and dropped their cargo of troops without landing. Then, they activated afterburners to escape our air space, out running the anti-air missiles and auto-gun shells our defensive turrets fired.
At first there was derisive laughter in our halls, for only a hundred or so troops had been dropped off by their flyers. We had no idea what sort of monster had been released in our domain. Each one of them was an armored giant that moved faster than the wind, and could tear a tank apart with their bare hands. The one saving grace for us was that they were disorganized. Instead of using guerilla tactics, flanking our forces, or even attempting to pin our armies by attacking vital supply lines and the cities themselves, they chased after our soldiers like rabid dogs.
We fell back, retreating and giving ground while laying traps for them. They were strong, but not invincible. Furthermore, they were stranded in our lands with no sign of reinforcement or rescue. We thought them fools whose only danger lay in fighting them head on. How else were we to describe their head long charges into minefields and obvious ambushes.
We were so sure that our victory would come, with time.
Then the second wave came.
They burst from the ground in massive tubes tipped with hundreds of grinding gears. All who were above them were shredded to pieces in the drilling bits that could tear through bedrock. Then those tubes opened, and the few hundred we were struggling to hold back were reinforced by thousands more.
We thought the invaders foolish, but whoever led them was not.
They let loose their war dogs, knowing how both they and we would react.
They predicted that we would view them as fools, and think it clever to draw them away from our cities and production centers.
They gave us the false hope that we could grind them down… That the few hundred was all our enemies could muster.
Yet, all we did was follow their plan exactly the way they wanted us to.
Once the fighting no longer endangered the cities they wished to claim, they assaulted us from underground with pinpoint accuracy. Their subterranean strikes shattered the one hope we had to defeat them by destroying our lines of communication and command posts. Divided, disorganized, and disoriented, our armies stood no chance before the invaders.
No one returned from the battlefield. The only source of information we had were from panicked vox-communications and vid logs that cut out to static.
The main houses of each nobility fled the cities, leaving the head of the branch house temporarily in charge. They would test the waters with the invaders, and see whether surrender was an option. Through them we learned that the heralds' farcical tales were historical fact.
The empire they spoke of, the Imperium, had come to claim all the cities of Europa in order to bring unity to this planet. This Imperium was led by the Emperor, and he demanded our surrender at this location; backed up against the Alpine Scarps.
The sound of marching was now audible to the ears. I could see the sands jump slightly with every step taken.
A golden eagle with its wings spread emerged over the horizon, followed by the Imperium's banner. The head of an eagle with two thunderbolts crossed behind it rose as the forces that carried the banner climbed over the dunes.
There were thousands of them. Giants in yellowish-beige armor carrying guns so large they would crush a normal man with their weight. Yet, even the banner holder who had to carry his weapon and the giant banner in each hand gave no sign of being over encumbered. The golden eagle perched above the Imperium's crest neither swayed nor bobbed in his grip, making it appear frozen mid-flight.
Thunder Warriors. That was the giants' name.
"Oh Lord who art in heaven…" My mother began to pray, only to be shaken roughly by my father.
The Emperor had burned every church and temple in our cities. Faith would not be forgiven. The only belief allowed was in the Imperial Truth the heralds spoke of.
The giants came within ten meters of us, and stopped.
My father locked eyes with both my mother and me, then walked forth with the other heads of the 400 houses.
They all knelt down on one knee in a line before the giants.
An ordinary sized man walked out from between the ranks of giants. He held a scroll with both hands, and wore silken robes that were bright white with golden trimmings. His hands were enclosed in skin tight gloves with gold lines running down the tip of each digit to the wrist.
The man unraveled the scroll, then began to speak.
"By the grace of the Emperor of the Imperium, Master of Mankind and the Protector of Humanity, I bring forth His third and final terms for surrender." The man said, voice amplified by the speakers built into his respirator. "The cities of Europa shall be placed in a bare trust for the Emperor. The 400 houses shall become the trustees, appointed to manage the Emperor's assets and investments in accordance with His word. A flat tithe will be paid annually to the Imperium. The rate shall be negotiable every ten years based on the needs of the Imperium and the status of assets within the bare trust. The Emperor reserves the right to change the trustee of his assets whenever He sees fit. Inspection and audits shall be done without warning or notice. Denial of cooperation shall result in the removal of the trustee and liquidation of all assets. The following shall be exempted from the bare trust. All weapons and manufactorums related to the production of said weapons shall become holdings of the Imperium and will be managed by His Imperial Armies. Garrisons of His soldiers shall man them, and they will act as the arbiters of His law for all civil and criminal disputes. Cooperation from them can be sought by the trustees should conflict arise in the management of the bare trust. These are the Emperor's terms."
The robed man lowered the scroll and looked down at all 400 hundred of the heads of Europa. Some of them shook with shame at the sheer audacity of the terms of surrender. They would be stripped of all power, and reduced to accountants and bureaucrats. Their ability to write laws and mete out punishments were taken from them. The fruits of their labor would not be enjoyed by them, but by the Imperium. Even the ability to defend themselves would be taken. Without arms they would be reliant on the Imperium for protection against the raiders and savages that roamed outside their walls.
Yet, these were the only terms that would spare their lives.
"By our blood, we humbly accept the Emperor's terms." All 400 hundred said in unison, even though a few voices shook with emotion. "To seal this bond, we give our first born son, the pride of our future and the carrier of our history to the Emperor. They shall serve you as a son shall serve his father, and carry your name to eternal glory."
"So it shall be remembered." The robed man replied, and two servants scurried forwards to set up a table before him. The scroll he carried was laid out upon it. One by one the 400 heads of houses laid their insignias upon it in wax or blood depending on their familial customs.
As the signing continued, the Thunder Warriors began to march forwards. We all watched as they approached the Alpine Scarps, and began to climb it. The impenetrable crystal barrier cracked under their boots, and crumbled in their armored grip as they climbed the cliff faces. Their armor kept them safe from the flensing shards, while their enhanced biology weathered the radiation. Thousands upon thousands clambered over it, like ants swarming over a much larger beetle.
I saw some in our procession swallow loudly, as they saw what the Thunder Warriors were capable of.
There was some question as to why the Emperor had chosen this location to accept our surrender. Some of us even expected it to be a ruse to slaughter us, backed up against a border with no escape.
Now I knew why our surrender had to take place before the Alpine Scarps.
This was a message from the Emperor.
It would not have mattered whether His Thunder Warriors came from the toxic Mid-Terranean basin or the impregnable Alpine Scarps. There was no necessity for flyers or subterranean troop transports. The Thunder Warriors alone were all that he needed. They were unstoppable, unrelenting, and indomitable. Whatever previously held belief or principle would be overturned before them and their master. Our defeat was inevitable, and His rule inescapable.
That was a lesson the Francs and Jermans would no doubt learn soon. The Alpine Scarps kept us safe from them, but it also prevented us from attacking them as well. Thus, neither Europa, nor Franc, nor Jermani had any major defensive installations on this side of our borders. Thousands of Thunder Warriors would descend upon them through their undefended nethers, like ancient Hannibal did in the fairy tales my mother told.
As the ranks of Thunder Warriors thinned, a different set of armored soldiers emerged. These were enclosed in ornate golden plate armor, and carried giant spears as tall as they were in one hand. A giant blade tipped each spear, with gun barrels on either side.
However, it was not their armaments or armor that held my gaze.
It was their movements.
The sands did not shake when they moved. Every step was as silent as a single dust mote floating to the floor. Yet, they moved with such speed that their red helm plumes billowed behind them. So perfect was their balance that rather than walking upon the earth it appeared as if the earth was receding under them, drawing us closer like victims of a quicksand trap.
One such giant stood before me and my mother. Its red helm plume fell, indicating it had stopped. Its shadow hid us from the sun, and the dark eye holes in its helm looking down at us showed no hint of humanity.
A golden gauntlet opened up, and reached downwards to me, palm upwards.
My mother gave my shoulders one final squeeze, then let go. I heard the flutter of her mask's intake valve as she stifled a sob.
I reached up into the giant's hand, and its golden fingers closed around my hand and forearm. However, it did not hurt. So controlled were the giant's movements, that I did not even feel the discomfort of hard metal through my environmental suit.
The giant turned, and walked back to where several flyers were just touching down. They came from above the clouds, streamlined and glowing gold.
I kept my eyes locked forwards. I was not leaving my family. I was returning to the one I now belonged to.
I was one of the Emperor's children now. I would serve him as a loyal son for the sake of the cities of Europa; for the sake of the Imperium.
Had I been born in a lower house or perhaps even an ordinary civilian I would never have known this hardship. Yet, this was the price for my privileged upbringing. The price of being one of noble birth with the responsibility to rule.
'Good bye, mother.' I thought to myself as I boarded the flyer with the golden giant.
The last I saw of her was as a small speck through a window looking up at me, as I disappeared into the clouds.
Nour looked up at the statuesque physique of Rylanor. This man was a walking weapon. He could tell that those bare hands could crush his skull. Yet, the deadliness of Rylanor's form did nothing to detract from his beauty.
'That is the sinister part of it.' Nour thought to himself.
The Thunder Warriors were brutish and violent in their appearance, making it hard to recognize them as anything but weapons of war.
This Rylanor… This new breed of Imperial weapon was far more sinister, like a bomb hidden in a gift basket.
"The pleasure is mine, my Lord Rylanor." Nour bowed.
"Please." Rylanor's voice came from right beside his head. "We are not in a formal setting, just Rylanor is enough." The giant smiled at him gently, but Nour could not stop the cold sweat leaking out of every pore. He had not heard Rylanor move, nor sensed his approach. His life could have ended that very moment, and he would have never known about it.
"This is one of the Imperium's new weapons." Lady Callidus explained. "He is not one of the Emperor's biological children, so you need not worry about the honorifics. He comes from Europa, where they have that tradition of donating their sons and daughters to settle disputes."
Nour looked up at Rylanor, to see whether some reaction would come at this denigration of his former homelands, but the man acted as if Lady Callidus had not spoken.
"Besides…" Rylanor continued, "It would be poor form for us going forwards. I am to be your bodyguard, Lord Nour. Best not to raise any undue suspicions."
"If you say so… Rylanor." Nour managed to reply.
"Good." Rylanor nodded. "After all, this may be one of the last times to speak frankly. During my duties, I shall remain mostly silent. Better for those who face us to think of me as nothing more than your brute." He chuckled slightly, as if with true mirth at his own joke.
"Disarming, aren't they?" Lady Callidus whispered. "Sociable. Humorous. Intelligent. There shall be no need to keep them segregated from the Imperium, unlike the Thunder Warriors."
"Have you ever been to the land of the Franc? I do recommend the food there." Rylanor continued speaking as if nobody else but the two of them were there. "Their cuisine is one of the more palatable aspects of their culture, pun intended of course."
Nour wondered whether he was seeing things with the surreal way Rylanor acted. It was as if the assassin didn't exist, and her whispers were merely figments of his imagination.
"Lord Nour?" Rylanor spoke to him, redirecting his attention to Rylanor's eyes. Each one had a light pink iris, and in their reflective wetness he saw both the standing Eversor assassin and sitting Lady Callidus.
Rylanor did see the assassins, he heard every word they said, yet he utterly ignored them.
"Their personality gives them certain… peculiarities based upon their origins." Lady Callidus continued her explanation of Rylanor. "Noble born children are taught from birth to fear assassination, and Rylanor is no exception." She chuckled as Rylanor continued to ignore her. Yet, his timely silence was kept so she could speak, making it obvious he could both hear her and cooperate with her. "However, such idiosyncrasies are not always faults. If anything, their emotions make them far less predictable."
"I have heard you come from the Nord-Afrik, Lord Nour." Rylanor said as Lady Callidus stopped speaking. "I personally have never visited, but I have fought with men and women from your homeland when I worked with the Imperial Army. They were all brave, loyal soldiers of the Imperium."
"That there is this weapon's true power." Lady Callidus spoke-up again. "I'm sure you can easily imagine how dangerous armies composed of these weapons would be. Charismatic, intelligent, and only marginally less lethal than a Thunder Warrior." The assassin leaned back in her chair lazily. "Imagine a battlefield with them on it. Ordinary soldiers will rally behind them. Stranded platoons will hold the line, waiting for their reinforcement. The very thought of them will keep conscripts fighting, no matter how dire the situation gets." She chuckled to herself softly. "You feel it yourself, do you not? The allure they exude. The reassuring strength they bring. The fear they inspire."
The assassin suddenly stood up, picking up the data tablet as she did so. The Eversor assassin was already gone, vanished without a warning.
"I said this member of the Emperor's Children was not the Emperor's biological spawn, but drops of His blood flow through this weapon's veins." The assassin's eyes narrowed at Rylanor. "A grand inheritance from the Master of Mankind. Let us hope they use it well."
Lad Callidus began to walk away from the two of them, leaving Nour alone with Rylanor.
"Your penal assignment will be handed down officially in three weeks' time." She said over her shoulder. "Take care to make no overt arrangements. It would be better for you to act surprised at the announcement, after all."
The assassin disappeared behind a bookshelf, and her footsteps stopped the moment she was out of view.
"I find the library to be more enjoyable when the only sound audible is the turning of pages." Rylanor said snidely, giving the first hint that he recognized the assassin's presence. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me, Lord Nour?"
"No…" Nour shook his head. "No. I have much to consider at the moment."
"Understandable." Rylanor nodded. "Today's meeting was not done in the way I would have liked."
Nour let out a dry laugh. He came here to satisfy idle curiosity. Now, he was stuck within one of the darkest conspiracies of the Imperium's history. The idea that any meeting with Rylanor could have been pleasant sounded like a bad joke.
"And how would you have arranged our meeting?" Nour asked, morbidly curious how this enhanced being would have done things.
"As friends." Rylanor said quietly, sitting down in the chair beside him. "As fellows." He said, leaning towards him. His size made him look like an adult sitting in a toddler's chair. "As servants to the citizenry of the Imperium."
"Servants?" Nour gave the giant before him a quizzical look. That was not the word he would have used to describe a child pawned off to the Imperium to be turned into a weapon.
"You think I believe myself to be a slave, just because I was given to the Emperor by my parents?" Rylanor gave voice to Nour's question calmly. His eyes studied Nour's face, watching for any sign of fear or embarrassment.
Nour paused for a moment, weighing his words, then sighed and voiced his honest thoughts.
"Are you not?" He asked the gene-enhanced being before him.
Rylanor smiled, and unconscious relief filled Nour's breast. Apparently telling the truth was the best way to build a relationship with Ryalnor.
"If I am a slave, it is only to my duty as one in a position of power." Rylanor said gently. "This world… This Imperium has many imperfections, but after seeing what is outside of it…" The friendly features darkened. His smile, smooth as marble, morphed into a grim granite like glower. "Lord Nour, any sort of order is preferable to chaos."
Nour felt the weight of his words. The sort of weight one feels when speaking to a veteran of a hundred wars. The weight of personal experience and sacrifice.
Still, he had to ask. "Do you feel the same after hearing what was supposed to happen?"
"Yes." Rylanor replied immediately, and his features returned to a soothing statuesque smile. "You wonder what horrors could be worse than what was described just now. What reasons might justify the unjust killing of the men who gave their lives for the Emperor." Rylanor paused, as if considering how to break down a difficult concept to a child. "The answer is both easy and hard to explain, but at its core it comes down to faith."
"Faith?" Nour asked, bemused. He had half-expected to be told to wait and see for himself, but the explanation provided didn't make much sense either.
"The Thunder Warriors are… fanatical." Rylanor said, chewing each word slowly in his mind to make sure they were the right ones. "I have heard this became most apparent during the battle with the Priest-King Maulland Sen in the Nordyc regions."
"Their separation from the Imperial Truth is deserving of destruction?" Nour asked. It made more sense than the single word answer given to him, but how the Thunder Warriors had become religious was a mystery of its own.
"Not exactly." Rylanor shook his head. "They have not broken from the Imperial Truth. However, their philosophy is one with the 'old ways'."
"The 'old ways'?" Nour parroted, unsure what Rylanor meant.
"The ways that kept us alive during the Psi-Wars and Old Night." Rylanor explained, and Nour narrowed his eyes.
Rylanor spoke of religion. The 'old ways' was one euphemism used to avoid the Imperial iterators and censors, but it was too vague to understand without the proper context. The Psi-Wars and Old Night provided that context. Religious people often used those two periods of time as examples of religion working for the good of the people.
"Do you know why the 'old ways' were outlawed by the Imperium?" Rylanor's voice was conversational, despite the danger of the subject matter.
"They were a backwards wasteful set of practices that divided us." Nour said carefully, paraphrasing the message of the Imperial Iterators.
"When opposing ways exist, that is the conclusion one would reach." Rylanor nodded. "However, for a unified community, the 'old ways' were quite beneficial."
"Are you trying to get me killed?" Nour said with an exasperated sigh. He was starting to wonder whether being associated with the Emperor provided some sort of carte blanche protection regarding religion.
"Do not worry. I will keep you safe, even from them." Rylanor gestured to the top of one of the bookshelves. Nour looked, only to see nothing there, but when he turned back to Rylanor he saw the man staring at a different bookshelf behind him.
"Old Night has not been kind to us as a species." Rylanor continued to speak as his eyes followed something unseen. "These trying times have demanded much of us. However, not everyone is intelligent or emotionally in control of themselves to do what must be done." Rylanor snorted, and returned his eyes to Nour. "The demand for sacrifice requires a justification, and the justification for self-sacrifice for the longest time has been faith. Men and women gave up activities they enjoyed, and shared what little they had in the name of higher powers. Even the stingiest miser would pay tithes to his community and church out of fear for his immortal soul. It is that sacrifice and cooperation that kept us going during this Age of Strife."
Rylanor's smile soured slightly as he continued. "Of course, when there was truly nothing left to give, holy wars and crusades have been useful tools for the purpose of holding political power. Whether it be motivated by reducing the number of mouths to feed, or to gain a valuable resource, or regain credibility by securing a holy victory, the 'old ways' made it far easier for people to act out violently. The higher powers took all the blame for their actions, after all."
An exasperated sigh leaked from Rylanor's lips, but was quickly followed by a reassuring smile. "However, as a tool for survival, faith has outlived its usefulness. The time for sacrifice is ending. Now is the time for growth and unity."
"And the Thunder Warriors refuse to give up this… faith of theirs?" Nour asked Rylanor, and the man's reassuring smile turned into a tired, sad one. His eyebrows drooped, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out.
"They cannot give it up." Rylanor said softly. "They may have been made into weapons, but they were men once, boys even. To do what they have done for hundreds of years requires something to believe in."
"Do you pity them?" That was the emotion Nour heard within Rylanor's voice.
"I do." Rylanor nodded. "But, I do so in the same way one would pity a beggar in the street." He locked eyes with Nour. "If they prove to be a threat to the Imperium, they should be buried in the dirt and forgotten. Like Faith, if their usefulness has been outlived, they should not be allowed to exist. The citizens of the Imperium, their safety, and their happiness should be prioritized over all else." His tone was quiet, but resolute.
"What will happen to them now?" Nour asked Rylanor. Avelroi had been spared from the Thunder Warriors, no longer to be used to blacken their name. However, he had not been told how they would be handled.
"I do not know." Rylanor admitted honestly. "I will tell you what I can, though. In two weeks time, my brothers and I shall be attending a ceremony with the Thunder Warriors with the Emperor. Hopefully the Emperor can convince them of the error of their ways."
Rylanor gave another gentle smile to Nour, then stood up. "It has been a pleasure talking with you, Lord Nour. I look forward to working with you in the lands of the Franc."
He extended a giant hand towards Nour.
Nour paused for a moment, then shook Rylanor's hand.
"Likewise." Nour replied.
Rylanor nodded then turned away from Nour, leaving him once again alone in the library.
Nour mulled over everything he had been told and heard.
"Charismatic indeed." He muttered to himself. Lady Callidus had been correct in her assessment. Rylanor and the 'brothers' he mentioned were certainly more advanced than the Thunder Warriors. He had been afraid of the man at first, but now he found himself liking him despite all of his trepidations.
Yet, he was still wary.
What the Emperor intended to do with them, and the Thunder Warriors on a fully conquered Terra was a mystery. Were they to keep hold of his territories, and ensure his will was obeyed to the letter on every corner of the planet? Or were they perhaps meant to…
Nour looked up at the ceiling, at the angels carved into the tops of the pillars.
As he stared at them, he noticed something. Each and every angel was pointing upwards, towards the center of the library's ceiling. There, a holographic map of the stars hovered in mid-air.
Nour stifled a shiver.
The Unification Wars were almost over, but perhaps all that meant was a greater crusade lay beyond the horizon.
A/N:
According to the Codex entries and Horus Heresy material, the Emperor's Children were the only Legion capable of working with non-enhanced members of the Imperial Army. All other Legions used 'lesser' troops as artillery or heavy equipment operators and little else.
At their inception, the Emperor's Children were unique in that they actually coordinated with standard humans on the battlefield, leading and giving tactical as well as strategic orders. The Antarctic Clearance, for example, is marked by Imperial historians as a victory achieved by Army Group Antilles, but detailed analysis of the conflict shows that it was the 3rd Legion who provided the tactical and strategic commands that allowed the campaign's successful completion. Similar examples are said to be littered throughout the Unification Wars, where the 3rd Legion leads standard Imperial forces to victory without taking center stage.
This natural ability to lead was ascribed to the unique upbringing of the 3rd Legion's initiates, whose tutelage in the Europa aristocracy provided them with many historical and modern examples of leadership within combat scenarios. This gave them the base knowledge to lead diverse armies composed of troops coming from very different cultural backgrounds.
The other Legions were unable to mimic this style of leadership, preferring to go into battle with only their battle brothers, leaving ordinary humans to support or menial roles.
This unique ability amongst all legions, the ability to relate and inspire the common man, was what eventually convinced the canon Emperor to allow the 3rd Legion to act as his aquilifers and equerries. They were the embodiment for his ideals for the new Legions that replaced the Legiones Cataegis (Thunder Warriors), and thusly favored greatly by the Emperor in canon.
The Emperor's Children keep these traits from canon, and it is this memory of noblesse oblige that kept Rylanor free from Slaanesh's taint.
They were meant to be leading the way for a better future for everyone.
They were meant to be the carrier of the Emperor's vision for a unified humanity.
They were meant to bear the Emperor's message for hope, honor, duty, and humanity.
This is what the Ancient of Rites stood for, as well as the countless other loyalists of the 3rd Legion who were slain by Fulgrim and his traitors upon Isstvan III.
Fulgrim betrayed this vision of what the Emperor's Children were. Not only did he turn his back on the Emperor, but he abandoned his duty, forsook the common boring man in his arrogance, and spent all his time in self-aggrandizing narcissism after falling to Slaanesh.
As a side note, the Emperor's Children did not gain their name after the Proximan Betrayal. They were given the Palatine Aquila for protecting the Emperor, but their name does come from the Europa nobility and how they gave their sons to the Emperor after they were humiliated by his 'Thunder Legions' (I really wish BL would use consistent names instead of allusions). "The Horus Heresy Book One - Betrayal" confirms this twice by mentioning the name's origins in the Europa nobility, and by stating that Fulgrim making the name "The Emperor's Children" official only reaffirmed the 3rd Legion's pre-existing title.
If you wish to argue with me using the fandom wiki, please be aware that the fandom wiki is frequently incorrect.