The Mekkar Campaign ends, as the Imperium entrenches and enforces its rule over the former rebellion. Soldiers are stood down, aircrew receive new craft, and Roger Wessyng gets the reward of a lifetime for his service.
But bad news arrives from the south, and even worse news for Edmund from the high command of the Haikk Crusade. But one mans bad news brings another opportunity, and the Leopards prepare for a new kind of war...
"So that's it, huh?"
"Yep. I mean, it could be worse. Normally they execute rebels outright. We're at least just getting told to shut up and put new uniforms on."
The former crew of the Baneblade Standard Bearer watched in disappointed silence as the Imperial Guardsmen who had been their previous enemies were doing inventory and inspections on the myriad of tanks and vehicles at the newly occupied port of Kaol-Daissar. Only a few days previously they had been trying to destroy the tribes that had risen up in rebellion, and now they and the rest of what was once General Smits great army had surrendered to the mercy of the Imperium.
"There go the Baneblades," DeVries said with little shock.
The fact that a planet had a squadron of some of the most valuable tanks in the Imperium had not gone unnoticed, and now the Adeptus Mechanicus were swarming over their former charge, preparing it for transport to a warzone deserving of its eleven barrels of hell. Still, the men and women who had spent a year in its metal hull felt a piece of themselves being stolen away.
"Bastards," Zara coughed.
"We'll be lucky if we're left with a single tank at this rate," 1LT Sariah grumbled.
The Rogal Dorn that they had used since the battle in the desert was itself being inspected by a group of Guardsmen, who had taken an odd interest in their mess of a vehicle, its armament vastly inferior to what it should have been. Their leader was an eccentric in a light blue firm kepi and something resembling a cape. As his men climbed across the Dorn, the officer noticed them and walked over, pulling out a metal case filled with lho sticks.
"My apologies, captain," he said in a wispy, foreign accent. "My men have taken a special interest in your vehicle for a variety of reasons."
A stick dangled from his lips before offering DeVries and his crew a few, which Zara and the captain accepted. As much as they smoked, the Guard officer elevated it to an art form with his effortless waving and puffing.
"Like what?"
"We need a vehicle that can keep up with our men, but is not armed to the point it can only strike at enemy armor. Infantry tanks, the theory goes. And your vehicle, as much of a AdMech disaster as it is, may be our answer."
"Well, you can take it, we don't have much of a choice."
"Yes, but your crew knows it. We will need some instruction, unless you take issue."
DeVries looked at the others, who seemed to accept the offer in resignation.
"Alright. We'll do it."
"The Seventeenth Chasseurs will appreciate it. Captain Lefoux, at your service."
"Captain DeVries, formerly of the Second Heavy Armor brigade."
"Baneblades? Quite a downgrade."
"You're telling us sir," Figeroa said.
"Well, we're all friends and comrades again. I hope you did not open fire on any of us."
"We spent the rebellion out here. Nothing but dumb tribesman. And some other things we haven't figured out."
Lefoux nodded and saluted, walking back to his men.
"Still gonna earn a paycheck," Zara said with a cough.
"Yep. Too bad Pier Seven and a Half shuttered. I was gonna go for another round with Cindy."
"Yeah, yeah. Can we talk about something else?"
"I'm happy the wars over," DeVries said.
"Same," Zara said as he flicked the cigarette and stomped on it.
They could at least all agree on that.
XXXXXX
The Obstinate still had most of its squadrons deployed on the surface of Haikk Four, but one Marauder Vigilant had been held in reserve, unneeded even as the fighting came to an end. It was still awaiting a new crew, a pilot, two gunners, and a navigator, but it already had a surveyor.
"What do you think Max?" Adept Tamara asked.
Maximilian Witt looked at the nose art and nodded with a smile. "Pic Perfect II" was emblazoned on the side, a caricature of the late Jacob Rawls holding a camera focused on a familiar looking and scantily clad Armageddon Guardswoman.
"He would have loved it," Max said.
"I'm sure he would have."
Tamara and Max looked the Vigilant over, the crewman rubbing his eyes, tears welling up at the memory of the crew he had served with and so painfully lost. He had spent nearly every day since his return to the ship in a medbay, his body nearly failing to survive the limits it was pushed to. But he had made it, and he was able to get back into flight status fairly quickly.
"I miss them so much," he said to no one in particular.
Tamara put a metallic arm around him and pulled him close, the other petting his head. The two had become closer after Pic Perfect went down. After a few days, true to his promise to Andre, crass as it was, he did determine that she still, despite her augments and mature age, had more flesh under those robes than he expected.
"I think it's a good machine, and has a good name."
"I think you're right," Max said. "Maybe the crew will be as good."
"We can only hope."
The two looked at the Vigilant for a few moments before Max sighed.
"Well, I have to go check on my surveying skills again. Still got a bit of a concussion."
"You seem fine to me," Tamara said.
"Well, Aeronautica says otherwise."
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her again.
"You… free tonight?"
"Of course I am. Older ladies like me don't have much going on," she said, running a mechanical finger on his collarbone.
"You fox," he chuckled before walking off with a wink.
As Tamara checked the Machine Spirit within, he thought about what his crew would have thought about him and her. They probably would have thought it was hilarious.
XXXXXX
The feast hall was silent, all eyes on the throne at the end, watching in excitement or respect. The Cathedral had been nothing but a constant source of celebration when Edmund and his armies returned, and the Prince himself was treated as if he was a son of the Emperor, though no one would be blasphemous to admit such. But now, in this moment of triumph, the official celebrations for the highest members of Anglerre society, and a few outliers in the wings, had begun. Standing in full official regalia, Edmund cleared his throat and looked at the hundreds of men and women in his presence.
"Gentlemen! Sisters! My men! We have done something great and terrible. We have won a great victory!"
A few cheers erupted before he waved his hands to silence them.
"But we have also embarrassed our dear commanders by not having the decency to die on the field!"
More cheers and laughs erupted, the knights enjoying the blatant insult. In the shadowy alcove on the side, four figures, two human and two Eldar, watched the proceedings.
"Do all of your commanders insult your superiors in such a way?" Farseer Alwyn asked Lord D'Uxford.
"Only Ed ever has the guts to do so. And considering they left us for dead? I would hardly be in favor of them."
"What about you Roger," Anya whispered. "Have you ever criticized your commanders?"
He scoffed at the suggestion.
"I'm a loyal Guardsman. I would never think anything but the best of my leadership."
"Unless they're a commissar of course. I would say it was a shame about Lucan falling in battle, but it really wasn't. They still don't know who killed him."
In the shadows, D'Uxford could not see the Ranger and serjeant quickly look at each other, confirming their joint silence on the truth of the matter. She had seen him duel and kill the man who had been the source of so much sorrow. The Ranger did feel, in a perverted sense, gratitude to the late commissar, whose overreaction had forced Edmund to intervene and brought him and her closer, first physically, and then…
"I wish now to congratulate all of you for surviving and staying firm when I needed you. If the Guardsmen you command are hands, then our body is held by a metal and noble backbone that never wavered!"
More cheers and thudding of fists on the wooden tables followed.
"I wish to award and distinguish a few men tonight! Those who all of us and the Imperium owe a debt! I will start with the first, and most obvious: Captal, if you please."
Barrau de Gast stood and moved to the throne, whistles and cheers following him. He quickly took position in front of the Prince and took a knee before being waved to stand.
"This man, the greatest warrior to come from the mountains of Gasceaux, was instrumental in our victory. Some say I took a risk beyond measure in ordering him to command a section of mounted knights away from our main army. But he held. And he stayed damned quiet. Only when the roar of five hundred knights and men at arms came barrelling through the rebel lines did any of them notice that they were about to taste the bitter fruit of defeat. For this, and your actions in the aftermath, I, and every Anglois here, owes you their lives."
A cheer went up in the Captals honor, who simply bowed his head in appreciation of the words.
"As a reward, and lest no man leave here thinking that I do not appreciate my men, especially when they do a service as great as this, I have been authorized by my father to grant you three castles and an increase of a thousand acres in total to your estates! These lands, confiscated and put into the hands of the crown from rebel traitors during the War of the Lions, all will finally return to the hands of a true Gasc!"
Another cheer rose, the Captal looking in shock at the reward he was granted.
"It's also because the crown is tired of the debts trying to keep the damn things standing," D'Uxford sardonically whispered.
"I wouldn't argue if I got a castle, My Lord."
"Managing one of them is one of the worst experiences one can have as a knight, believe me serjeant. By the way, where are the rest of your men?"
"Celebrating with the other Guardsmen. I offered them to come, but they had no interest. Why am I here again?"
"Because you're my underling, and I told you to be here, so you'll shut your mouth and appreciate the opportunity to watch the ceremony with your social betters. You ungrateful little bugger."
"Yes My Lord," he replied with a smirk, feeling Anya's tense gaze on the Lord of Clavham.
He hoped that there would be no issues as Edmund prattled on about other rewards, thrones and other monetary gifts.
"Farseer, if you don't mind me asking, what of your forces?"
"They are on standby, Robert. We are assessing the current situation on this planet and the system as a whole, and will determine if our presence is needed any longer. We may return to Ducaish and move to more important measures. The Council will decide within a standard day of yours."
"Well, we certainly will miss you and your warriors. I have no shame in admitting that your help was invaluable."
"If only all humans were as honest and appreciative."
Roger tried to hide the quick glare that he gave Anya, who returned it. He feared the answer would be that, but he was now getting confirmation. Would she try to find a way to stay with him? Would he make an attempt? His mind was suddenly clouded by grim thoughts that he hated having. To think, only a month or two ago he was terrified of her constant observation, and the last few days awaiting the return of Edmund and his army were spent by the two being nearly inseparable. But all good things had to come to an end, he guessed. At least the time they had together was-
An electric jolt went up his left arm as he felt her hand take his. To show even the smallest amount of affection, here, in the heart of the Imperium's efforts on Haikk Four, with the highest and most noble of his home planet only feet away, and in a house of the Emperor no less… and so close to her mother! How did she not notice or suspect anything? He slowly turned to Anya, as a way to warn her off, but she simply pressed a finger to her lips and smiled deviously. She was lucky she was pretty.
"-and you do me great honor as Prince of your lands. Were all Gasc's of such quality as you, Barrau de Gast, then Anglerre would be unstoppable!"
"Thank you, Your Highness!" the Captal said in appreciation.
Edmund then bowed his head to signal he was finished speaking.
"Now, as essential as the Captal and his actions were, there was one who fought at Acra harder than any man. Lord Diazon, if you please!"
Fists slammed onto tables, whistles and yells of agreement coming from all around. Soon, the heraldry of a Black Swan surrounded by black and white ermine emerged from the long tables covered in food and drink and kneeled before Edmund.
"Father said you were the bravest knight he ever knew, have you heard that, dear Diazon?"
"I have not, Your Highness."
"Said that all Vretans fight like devils, but their nobility fights like possessed ones. And after your actions, I am in agreement. For those who spent the battle riding at the end of it, this man and his regiment held our right flank to the death! The average casualty rate of a regiment at Acra was about one to twenty or so. The Seventh held the right flank, and had a casualty rate of one in five."
Gasps and sighs echoed through the hall. The Vretans had held, but they had paid dearly. Roger had seen that first hand.
"I wonder if he will make mention of our warrior's sacrifice," Alwyn said with little emotion.
"Farseer," Roger said politely, "Even if he wanted to, few would believe him."
Alwyn thought about the answer and nodded.
"Yes. The casualties they inflicted in the time they spent fighting…" her thoughts quickly reverted to another subject. "Do you honor their sacrifice?"
Roger nodded.
"I have their names recorded. And I wanted to etch them on that sword you found for me in the ruins, but I quickly gave up on that. Quite tough."
"The Wraithbone is our greatest strength, as much as mind and muscle," Anya said, receiving her mothers approval, still unbelievably not noticing the two holding hands.
"For your sacrifice, I also grant you one of the castles we confiscated, along with a seat in our most noble and honorable Parliament."
A seat in the highest levels of government never hurt, and the position was for all purposes a sinecure. Diazon bowed his head but motioned to speak, which Edmund quickly approved.
"I am honored by your gratitude, Your Highness, but my men made the sacrifice. There will be many families in Vretand who will no longer have their breadwinner. I would like to ask for a lowering of the taxes there."
A few mumbles of disagreement or contempt came from his brother knights. To ask such a thing was considered impolite, treacherous even, but given the service and abilities of the Black Swan, it was worth the effort.
"I will see what we can do. I can, in my fathers stead, promise a payment for those lost, or a relief to be enacted for those with fallen family members."
"Even an attempt would soothe my soul, Your Highness."
"They do deserve it, you are correct. But it may be difficult."
Seeing the Swan with nothing left to say, he received another bow, and Diazon disappeared amongst his fellows.
"Right, who else do I need to honor and embarrass in front of everyone?"
Laughter, some of it drunken, echoed from the stones of the Cathedral.
"Bertucat? Where is that boy? Don't come up here, I just wanted to point you out. That use of the bowmen at the start of the battle? Couldn't have done it any better myself."
More laughs and cheers.
"Now, if you can do the impossible for a Gasc and don't die before you're twenty five, you'll be a fine commander."
Some hisses from the defensive and proud mountain lords came, but the other Anglois found the comment true enough to be hilarious. Gasc's had large families, larger personalities, and had a tendency to kill each other off before anyone became a threat through duels, fights over possible wives, and anything that bothered them that moment or day.
"I did want to ask Alwyn, why are you here?"
As Edmund kept mentioning lesser knights who distinguished themselves, the Farseer tapped her spear.
"A good question. I believe your Prince believes himself indebted to us and would feel remiss to leave our kind out of the celebration, little as we wish to be involved."
"Mother and I thought the invitation was intriguing enough to be worth the effort. A shame that we can not eat or drink, lest we become ill."
"Well, I thought the grox was pretty good. You're not missing much on the wine though."
"Serjeant, what do you know about wine?"
"Stolen enough of it from cellars and Sororitas stores to have a basic understanding," Roger said with a smile, earning a reproving look from D'Uxford.
"I believe your Cadian has some involvement in your comrades drinking habits, by the way, don't think I didn't notice."
"Well, she's a kind soul, for a foul-mouthed, licentious Guardswoman."
"Most of them are both of those things, so I would be lying if I was shocked."
"That Sister Evita is quite amusing. I think she has become a good part of our unit," Anya said.
"As long as Parky's there, she'll do whatever she's told."
"Has she confessed to him yet?"
"No, My Lord. Honestly, I would think hell would freeze over and the Eye of Terror seals itself before she finally admits it to him. And the boy's daft as a rock, so he probably wouldn't understand or believe it."
"Sororitas, eh?"
"Yes My Lord," Roger chuckled.
"Ah, he's finally finished. Then you two can go, and you and I will have to try to enjoy ourselves."
"-and now gentlemen and ladies, I wish you all to feast, drink and honor our fallen, and the heroes who made this battle a victory for Anglerre and the Imperium!"
Cheers and lifted toasts clanged and crashed against each other. Roger lifted his own cup, full of cider, as well. D'Uxford watched impassively and turned to Alwyn, Roger letting go of Anya's hand.
"Proceedings have ended."
"He did give me thanks in private earlier. Roger, now that this war is over, we need to discuss the situation of your unit. It is a bit… inconvenient for both us and the Imperium now."
Roger swallowed and nodded.
"I understand, Farseer. When the morning comes, we'll discuss. I wish to say that-"
A loud crash, what sounded like the crunch of wood echoed through the hall, silencing the entire room. Everyone looked to see if one of their friends or cousins had started a fight, gotten too drunk, or simply passed out and slammed their face into a table. But it wasn't anyone. Then they all turned to Edmund, whose throne had been the source of the noise. He looked agitated, as if he was not doing something essential.
"I lied. I apologize to you all. There is one more thing I should-no, need to do."
He stood up from the throne and scanned the hundreds of men before him.
"Where is Roger Wessyng!" he roared.
He nearly dropped his cup in shock, looking to D'Uxford and Alwyn, the former just as confused as he was, and the latter showing the faint signs of actual surprise. He turned to Anya, who looked at him in confusion.
"Are you going to deny your Prince?"
"No… I guess I shouldn't."
He moved down to the tables, passing the gathered knights who looked up at him, confused as he was. He noticed John Fitzwood, who raised a glass at him with a grin. Strange, he thought. In a few moments, he was standing before Edmund, bowing politely and taking a knee.
"You can look up at me, serjeant," he said quietly. "Don't stand."
Roger politely obeyed.
"Gentlemen, this man, this serjeant, he has been instrumental these last few months. He is the definition of a silent soldier, the type who wins glory, but never tells a soul what they did. He has saved our armies more times than I can count. He has done missions that nearly-impossible, tipped the scales in ways that we cannot even fathom to understand. But he was considered an outlaw, to be executed for crimes he did not truly commit. I thought that I would stay silent, which would protect him and his comrades. But now, the man who ordered his death had preceded him to the grave, and he has proven himself a noble addition to my staff."
A few claps or grunts of approval came. Peasants were still looked down on, not as bad as some Imperial worlds, but the biases and prejudice of the nobility were as strong as ever.
"I have thought of a reward. Maybe some land back home? An early return? All of these, I have considered. But I think there is a way to accurately thank you for your service, and your actions which saved us so many times. One which will fulfill my sense of honor, and stand as proof that the men of Planjou are as rewarding as they are to be feared."
Edmund pulled on the handle of the Claw of Gasceaux, bringing it up to a statue like stance before placing the blade along his shoulder.
"Serjeant Roger Wessyng," he said, his voice booming through the silence that fell.
Anya made a panicked look at D'Uxford, who was watching in stunned silence.
"Are they going to execute him?" she asked.
"N-no. It… God-Emperor, he's actually going to do it."
"Do what?" Alwyn asked.
"I ask you this, Roger. Are you a true man of Anglerre?"
Roger, who was completely confused, stammered for a moment.
"Of course, Your Highness."
"You have bled and served her, and the Imperium with honor?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Bow your head."
He did so quickly.
"Roger Wessyng, you will answer these with honesty. Shall you defend your fellow men, those who fight for the Emperor?"
"Y-yes?"
"Shall you speak only in truths?"
"Yes."
"Will you be loyal to your King, and those who represent him?"
"Yes…"
Rogers' mind stopped. He heard these words before. Was Edmund… was he being-
"Will you show devotion to the Ecclesiarchy, to the one true Church who worships our noble God-Emperor?"
"Yes."
"Will you be brave in all actions?"
"Yes."
"Will you serve with honor, live by honor, and die by it should the need arise?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Never traffic with traitors. Be as loyal as you have. Do not run from a fight, even if you will lose."
The sword dropped to hover above Rogers left shoulder, the flat side of the weapon inches away.
"Do you understand what responsibilities and duties are expected of you should I finish this ceremony, and that the man who kneeled minutes before will be another entirely when he stands?"
Roger took a deep breath.
"Yes, Your Highness."
He felt the blade tap his left shoulder.
"By the powers vested in me by my father, King Edward the Seventeenth, and the God-Emperor who judges all-"
He felt the right shoulder be tapped.
"I dub thee, SIR, Roger Wessyng, knight of Anglerre, in the service of Lord Moressley and his king!"
Roger looked up at Edmund who nodded.
"Rise, Sir Roger."
He did so, feeling... it was hard to describe. He was stunned, even in his wildest dreams, to be knighted by a prince no less…
"Three cheers for Sir Roger Wessyng!" the familiar voice of Sir Fitzwood bellowed.
"Hip hip!"
"Huzzah!" a few hundred voices cried out.
Some were filled with passion, others were merely forced. Rising from the ranks was not a very popular thing.
"Hip hip!"
"Huzzah!"
"Hip hip!"
"Huzzah!"
Edmund looked back at Roger, moving to his throne. He nodded slightly and smirked.
"Congratulations. You're among brothers now. Go back to whatever shadows you were hiding in. We'll discuss this more in the morning."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Roger bowed and backed away, never turning his back. He soon rejoined the other three he arrived with as the sound of music began to fill the air.
"Congratulations are in order," D'Uxford said.
"Did you know?"
"The papers were approved by the king, I did not expect a public knighting ceremony."
"I take it this is a good thing?"
"A very good one Farseer. Roger is now in a better position than ever. He will be allowed his own land, armor, all the perks."
"Congratulations," Anya whispered in his ear.
"Thanks. I don't know how to take this honestly."
"We'll figure it out. You have your own room now. We cleared it out a few days ago. You are a knight, but you are a part of Edmunds circle, so you actually get some comfortable living that isn't a tent. Congratulations, again. I'll show you it, unless you want to stay."
Roger was about to answer when a player struck up a tune that turned D'Uxford ashen white.
"Throne, not this song."
Fists pounded the tables along with the music, and after a few lines, they began singing.
"Ai vist lo lop, lo rainard, la lèbre
Ai vist lo lop, lo rainard dançar
Totei tres fasián lo torn de l'aubre
Ai vist lo lop, lo rainard, la lèbre
Totei tres fasián lo torn de l'aubre
Fasián lo torn dau boisson folhat."
Roger looked over to D'Uxford with a grin.
"You don't like this one?"
"When you heard it only a thousand times…"
Roger laughed as D'Uxford led the three out of the hall. When they walked in, they were mere shadows. When they stepped out, they had two knights amongst them.
XXXXXX
Roger looked out the window of his new quarters, watching the campfires glitter like the stars above. He had no idea where his men were, probably celebrating with the rest of the army. He grinned as he thought about how they would respond to his promotion. Davie would probably not believe him, Hawke would roll with the punches, Parky would probably ask him a thousand questions, and Bob would… Well, he would probably congratulate him at least. He looked to the sky, seeing glittering dots across it like a painted canvas. But instead of the peace it used to give him, it only brought anxiety. That damn nightmare would not leave his thoughts, even a few days after. What did it mean? Who was that woman? When would everything start? He felt himself begin to sweat, and moved over to the table near his own fireplace, a nice touch, if a bit unnecessary, to pour some more water from an ice cold pitcher. He decided that he was worrying himself too much and thought about going back downstairs to rejoin the Princes celebration.
"Is the requirements of knighthood already giving you grief?"
He took a sip of water and sighed.
"If it was, you'd be the first to know, Anya. I thought you were returning with your mother?"
"Mother knows I'm old enough to be my own woman. I can do whatever I want."
"Dangerous game she plays, knowing you."
She climbed in through the window, a bit more winded than usual.
"More of a trek to get up here, eh?"
"It is not as simple as before, yes, but it was worth the effort."
She was still wearing the basic armor and cloak that she had arrived with, her hair still in the ponytail she preferred. Her red hair almost seemed to sparkle in the dim light of his room, almost unreal in its ability to do so.
"So may I ask what this little intrusion on my new quarters is about?"
She looked at him for a few moments before stepping towards him, gently taking his hands.
"I do not know how much longer we will be together. I would prefer to make the most of what we have left."
"Yeah, I get it."
"Do you?"
Roger sighed and looked up at her.
"Hell, I don't know. These last few months have been pretty chaotic, and I'm still trying to figure it all out. Here, let me show you something."
He pulled by the hand to the window and pointed out towards the end of the camp.
"See that little hill over there? The one with a fire or two at the bottom?"
"Yes?"
"I was tied to a post there, facing a firing squad, and only was saved by a few seconds. Now I'm here, standing as a knight in the highest levels of my commanders headquarters as an official part of his retinue, with a Xeno who has impossibly fallen in love with me, and I with her. Try to make sense of that for me."
Anya nodded and sniffed.
"Fate has been kind to you. You should be more appreciative of it."
"Well, I guess I'm bad at accepting the obvious in front of me. I feel like I'm being guided from thing to thing, just barely scraping by."
"I believe your kind calls that surviving."
"Well, I was already fairly good at that. But now…"
They both stared out at the army and the lands they had secured. But it was now all coming to an end, the army possibly moving to another planet or system entirely, and the Eldar would simply vanish. Anya could not disobey her mothers wishes, or those of her own kind. What would they do now?
"I am not sure," she whispered.
"Are you reading my thoughts again?"
"Of course. You should not make it so easy to do."
"Well, you would probably have to teach me, and would do it wrong knowing you. Just to keep tabs on me."
She giggled slightly at this.
"You already know me better than most of my kind, do you know that?"
"Wow. And I still barely know you."
"I am not exactly social. My sisters are better at that. My brothers as well."
"From different fathers, correct."
"Yes. I am the only child of the union between my mother and Kafyll Gwaerin. It is somewhat strange, having siblings who are older or dead before you."
"I know the feeling. At least my brothers and sister liked me. Better than some back on Anglerre."
"Are you going to return there?"
"Maybe one day. I think I still have some more fight in me. It's easier to get back as a knight than a Guardsman, but I'd feel like I'm abandoning my lads, and I can't have that."
"Understandable."
He took a sip of water and rubbed his eyes. He was starting to get tired, it had already been a long day.
"Is your mother mad at me?"
"She does not have time to be angered about a few warriors. She grieves, but she knows you are not at fault."
"Does she know about us?"
Anya opened her mouth and paused for a moment or two.
"No. And it would be better if none of my kind did."
"As for mine. If I was found to be interacting with a Xenos, I would be executed immediately."
"I would be ostracized. Even my fallen cousins would not accept me, unless they were desperate."
"So we stay quiet."
"As much as we have."
"I can do that."
He yawned and looked over to his newly made bed.
"You want to stay the night? Or are you needed-"
"I can make an excuse. Thank you for the invitation."
"It's better than you just crawling in my room and cuddling up alongside me."
"You enjoy it. Do not lie."
"Yeah, sure."
He began to take off his surcoat and flak jacket, realizing that he was no longer going to have to wear it. D'Uxford had already said something about armor being provided, but what did that mean? Everyone knew that knights had to pay and supply their own equipment. He looked over to Anya and felt his breath stop in his throat. Her armor was already set on the floor, and all she wore was her robes, covering all the important areas, but leaving little to the imagination. Not that he had to, he'd already… he shook his head and sighed.
"Something wrong?"
"No," he said as he stood up. "It's just-"
He stopped as she let her hair fall, going to her lower back. He swung her head a few times, letting it flow with impossible grace. His mind wandered again, and then a thought came through his mind. A crazy, impossible thought. If they truly loved each other, and they only had so much time left… was it right to go to the next level? Would it even work? Their anatomies were similar, that was certain but-
Anya blinked and snapped her head to Roger, and briskly moved towards him. She then delivered the hardest slap he had ever felt upon his cheeks.
"The hell!"
"What, you think that because I care about you and we may have little time, I'll act like some desperate Iybraesil hussy and bed you now? Control yourself."
"What about reading my mind did you-"
"I am not… ready for that yet."
Roger looked at her in confusion, her face beet red, looking at the floor, her arms covering her chest.
"I do not even know if it is… possible. And I do not want our relationship to be soured over such a thing."
"I won't force you to do anything. And please don't slap me again. Goddamn hurt. I better not have to spend my first day as a knight having to explain the giant red cheek."
"I did not hit you that hard."
"It felt like it."
He crawled into bed, and she followed shortly after. He sighed as he tried to process the days events, from his knighting to what just happened.
"I remember hearing that in your culture, somethings can be healed with a kiss."
"Yeah, I heard that too."
She gently kissed his cheek, and he looked to her. She looked gorgeous there, her perfect hair spread out around her, the simple robes covering her lithe and pale body, the freckles and blue eyes just the finishing touches on something almost too good to be true. He ran his hand through her hair to her cheek, stroking it gently.
"Did that help it?"
"It did," he said confidently. "Good night Anya."
"I love you Roger."
"That would be, Sir, Roger now."
"Do not push your luck, Mon'Keigh."
"I love you too," Roger laughed.
XXXXXX
The morning suns filtered in through the window, Roger blinking as the rays streaked across his face. No dreams, but no nightmares. He looked to his side, finding Anya still peacefully asleep. It was rare for her to still be with him in the morning, even rarer that he would wake before her. He cautiously moved out of the bed, trying not to wake her. He got himself some water and walked back to the window, looking out at the aftermath of the celebrations. He could see some of the men close by stumbling, and more than a few of them vomiting. He chuckled, hoping that Davie and the others controlled themselves. He looked back at the bed, seeing Anya had woken up, stretching as she did so.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," she said, brushing her hair away from her pointy ears.
He hated how much he liked them. The oddity yet familiarity of them.
"How did you sleep?"
"Good as always. I am a very light sleeper."
"Could've fooled me."
"How are you going to spend your first true day as a knight?"
"Dunno. Might try to find Davie and them, lord my new powers over them. Or maybe over Sister Evita."
She smirked at the last member.
"Do you think she will take that boy for herself?"
"Not yet. I'll give it time though, nuns are a vicious, over-protective bunch. He might have to figure it out on his-"
A rap at the door silenced them both. Roger quickly motioned for her to hide, either under the covers, or behind the bed.
"Who is it?"
"Sir, Prince Edmund wishes to speak with you."
"Alright. Do I need to wear anything special?"
"Just your standard uniform, I believe."
"Alright, give me a minute."
He moved over to his clothes, and gently pushed the Ranger armor to Anya.
"I will speak with you later," she whispered, kissing him again. "Farewell my love."
"See you soon."
She vanished out the window, Roger wondering how she would stay unnoticed or how she would get to ground. As he finished dressing himself, he gave up after thinking about the abilities of the Eldar. He opened the door to find Sir Trestan Argenac.
"Sir Trestan!"
"Sir Roger!" he laughed as he held his hand out, which Roger took.
"Bet you weren't expecting the dumb Guardsman you escorted all those months ago to be a knight, did you."
"Not in the slightest, but I will say, of all men to be risen from the ranks, you're probably the one I would approve of."
"I'm honored. Is the Prince in his room?"
"No, he's on the roof between the two bell towers."
"That's odd."
"He's with D'Uxford. Something bad has happened, I'm afraid."
Roger nodded.
"Well, I do have a tendency to be dragged into things when it all goes wrong, so that's no surprise."
Argenac laughed as he led him down the halls. Surprisingly quick, they were outside, his escort pointing to the two men on the railed edge. Thanking Sir Trestan, Roger moved quickly over to his commanders, Edmund noticing him first.
"Sir Roger! It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it! How was your first night as a… knight? Don't kneel, you can just bow."
"It was very… interesting. I feel, with all due respect, no different."
"That's because you were a man before, and now you're a man with a title. Congrats on figuring out it means little outside of parties and ordering people around, which you already did."
"Ed," D'Uxford said in disapproval. "There is more to it than that."
"Sod off. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you privately. I didn't sleep well because I got bad news."
"Your Highness?"
Edmund looked to D'Uxford, who cleared his throat.
"Last night, as the festivities were ending, we received a courier from General Lovric and his Mountain Corps. You know them?"
"The Ostau men. What's wrong?"
"Lovric had sent a unit of stormtroopers to assist Volkster and Army Group Six as they wipe out was left of the rebels south of the mountains they are defending. They just returned yesterday, beaten and having lost a third of their men."
Roger straightened slightly, and felt a chill run up his back.
"They lost?"
"Worse. We aren't sure of the exact details but-"
"That cunt Volkster's a fucking traitor. Wiped out half of his Army Group that was loyal, and the other half joined the rebels with him in command."
The knight felt his knees give way as he grasped the stone railing. Betrayed? Half an Army Group!
"Holy shit," he mumbled.
"That's one way to put it. We weren't planning on having to stay here any longer than we had to, but now Lovric and his men are reinforcing the mountains for a rebel attack. He'll hold them with little issue, but our plans to help the attack on Yazd are now a pipe dream," D'Uxford said grimly. "Now we're going to have to stay in garrison for Mekkar until that problem is solved. In simple words, everything has gone wrong."
"Throne."
"Yes. As if I didn't have enough problems to deal with. Oh well, garrison duty is now the Captals problem, not mine," Edmund said with no concern.
"Yes, Your Highness that would-wait, what?" Roger stammered.
"The news of Volkster was less harmful than the one I got this morning from Crusade Command. I have been kicked upstairs for being too competent for my own good."
"That is a very improper way to describe a promotion, Ed."
"Fuck off Duck. That arsehole Borricelli hates that I'm still alright and wants me somewhere close to him."
"He put you in charge of the Crusades intelligence office!"
"He took me away from my boys!"
"You'll be happier there."
"You and the rest of our official family."
"Excuse me, My Lord, Your Highness, why am I here?"
"Because Roger," Edmund said with a hint of annoyance, "The crusade commander specifically noted my reports about a certain unit in our army. Call themselves "Leopards" or some nonsense. He specifically asked that the unit be used for operations throughout the Haikk warzone."
"Which means-"
"Alwyn and I had planned to most likely retire the unit as it currently is, but given the request and the military situation… We both agreed to keep the unit. Under its current command, with some caveats for the new mission set."
Rogers' mouth dropped in surprise.
"Er… very well, Your Highness."
"Which means everything is the same, just your new armor and rank," D'Uxford added.
"What new armor?" Roger asked.
Edmund and D'Uxford looked at each other, before the Prince nodded at him.
"Your Lord, Moressley, was contacted a few weeks ago back on Anglerre. He put forward the money to have your equipment forged and prepared."
"I-really?"
"He said something along the lines of "Should've happened years ago." Your family was also made aware of it. Your father was pleased with the news."
"T-thank you, Your Highness."
"Wait till you actually figure out how not to stumble all over yourself in the damn thing before you than anybody. And you'll need your own heraldry. You can't take Moressley's."
"I know someone who can help me with that."
"Very good. We have two weeks to get everyone ready and move on up to the starfort. That'll be enough time?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Good! Now get down to the armory. Your set, measured and all for a perfect fit. Start wearing it now, you're practically going to live in the damn thing from now on."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Roger bowed and walked away, vanishing back into the Cathedral. Duck looked at Ed and chuckled.
"That boy is in over his head."
"He's as old as us, and he's done more than you or I have."
"Do you think we can get away with Eldar so close to the leadership of this Crusade?"
"I will. I always get my way."
"We'll make it work Ed," Duck said, patting the Prince's shoulder. "We just did the impossible, we can make it work."
"Yeah. And with you at my side… We'll make it work."
The two grunted agreements as Edmund looked out at the army that he had led, bled with, and had kept together through even the worst of things. The army he was being forced to abandon.
XXXXXX
"...with the blessings of the Farseer, and my Prince, the Leopards will continue as before. I wish to state now that titles will be ignored in general, unless we're in settings where it is more appropriate to do so."
He stood atop a rock, looking slightly down on the humans and Eldar below.
"Any questions?"
A green armored hand shot up.
"Yes Kallen?"
"That armor looks well fit."
"Thank you, but that's not a question."
"Is it missing anything?"
"Heraldry. But nothing else. Any questions?"
There was no response.
"Right. As I said, more details to follow. Until then, do what you need to do."
He stepped off the rock, Davie laughing as he did so.
"Bloody hell, of all the people to be knighted…"
"I know, it's terrible. We're really scraping the bottom of the barrel now."
"I think you look quite nice in that," Helene said.
The Cadian had spent the battle in the rear, and had rejoined the Leopards when the rest of the army returned, at her request. Given the glares Hawke and Helene shot at each other, he had a feeling something had happened with their relationship, but he had more pressing matters.
"Thank you Helene. Anyone else want to criticize?"
"As I said, it looks well fit," Kallen said cheerfully.
"Barbaric and simplistic to our standards, but it is an upgrade, I will admit," Moire added.
"I leave you alone for not even a week and look what you do," Cruniach mused.
"I know, we win a battle, I get knighted… You missed a lot. What did you and your Rangers do out there?"
"Nothing important. I am glad to hear of your survival. And our continued relationship."
"I'm afraid we all will have to tolerate each other for a while longer. Despite my best efforts."
The three Eldar and six humans laughed.
"So what's next sarge, er, sir?"
"Hell if I know, kid. We're in deep, and we're going to have to shovel our way out."
"If you all have survived this long, I doubt whatever comes next will be difficult," Evita said, trying to raise spirits.
"Eh, we'll get it. I'm not worried. I wonder what Alwyn will want out of the deal. That's what I'm worried about."
"She is a fair judge of these things," Kallen said, "I would not fear too much on her thoughts."
"Alright. Well, as I said, everyone just needs to hang around and not leave before we get more info. Good news is that we're not going to be stuck on this world much longer."
"Thank Isha for that," Moire said, to the confusion of Davie and the lads.
"And the Emperor," Parky added quickly.
"Aye," Bob concluded.
"Right. Well, I'm gonna say whatever you can drink, grab, and we'll toast my knighting and being together for a while longer, eh?"
"Here here!" Hawke yelled.
A variety of flasks, canteens, and other such things collided. Having taken a good sip of Davies illicitly acquired cider, he excused himself to walk around the Eldars encampment. He was hoping that by now he could remember names, but too many wore helmets or-
"Roger!"
He turned to find a Ranger approaching him, one with yellowish hair.
"Steryn! How are you?"
"Good. I have sent my first drafts of my works on the Battle of Acra back to Ducaish. It's become quite notable."
"I'm glad we could provide you a suitable canvas. Did you do something with your hair?"
"Yes, I changed it again. I like to stay with the season."
"I see. What's wrong?"
"A knight needs heraldry."
"I had a feeling you'd bother me with this. I have some ideas of-"
She handed him a piece of parchment, a colorful drawing. It was a blue shield with a white chevron running through the middle.
"Blue for Susich, white for the newly knighted."
"I like it."
On the left corner was a golden martlett, the right with a blood red sword, blade facing up.
"For the Lord Moressley and the fact you were knighted after a battle."
'Marvelous."
But below the chevron, running through the middle, was a strange Eldari symbol, but he quickly figured out the rune.
"Friend from a lesser race?"
"Literally translated, yes. But it was used at the end of our empire as a symbol of Eldar-Human cooperation."
"I like it. And no one will understand it but your kind and me. I approve. I'll give it to Edmund and the right channels."
"I am so pleased to finally have my own mark on the art of heraldry."
"As am I! Thank you Steryn."
He continued walking, getting nods or waves as he walked by. What a change he had made, going from a scared young Guardsman to a commander of a unit of Xenos and humans. It was almost unreal, he had been living with this for months, and it still seemed just as unbelievable as the day it started. But it was real, it was his life. It was what fate wanted him to be, and he just had to live with that. He moved to the edge of the camp, and found another Ranger waiting for him.
"May I speak with you privately?"
"You've had a lot of private time with me, but I will honor the request."
They moved through the trees to the edge of the forest, finding the fields of Mekkar ahead of them. The weather was perfect, warm enough to be enjoyed, but cool enough that it was easy to do so. A slight breeze came from the east, adding to the pleasant feeling in the air.
"So, what do you think?"
"I think you look very bulky."
"I feel like I'm wearing weights. It takes a while to get used to it, even powered. Evita told me it took a few months before she got to normal movement in her getup."
"I have seen her kin charge into battle in high heels. It is quite incredible."
"Now that's a sight to imagine," he said sitting down, Anya following his move.
"So I guess we got a little more time together."
"So it seems. I am sorry to hear about the betrayal in your army."
"Volkster always was an incompetent puke. But he was loyal, it makes little sense."
"Do you think something convinced him? Maybe forces of higher powers?"
"He was as pious as they come. I'm not banking on him being a heretic, but I have a feeling that something happened. The only thing that can make someone like him give up a good job like command of an Army Group is having power over one's soul. I think somethings up here, but not what we think."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's be real, this place is a hellhole. No one would care if it rebelled or went back to the Imperium. But someone or something is making this a drawn out fight, and the only reason a planet like this is worth fighting so hard over is if it's important, or has something important on it. That's my read."
"Maybe you will find it. Fate and luck have been on your side so far."
Roger laughed before looking for any witnesses, and finding none, moved his arm up Anya's back to her shoulder, pulling her closer.
"Didn't you know?"
"Know what?"
Roger grinned at her as he brushed imaginary dirt off his armor with a gauntleted hand.
"I'm the luckiest man on Haikk Four."
ROGER WESSYNG AND THE LEOPARDS WILL RETURN IN: OF RANGERS, KNIGHTS, AND LEOPARDS PART TWO: THE HOARD OF VANDIRE
XXXXXX
It's been a long time coming, about a year actually, but I've finally finished this story. Or part one of it, obviously. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I'll take a little bit of time here to tell you what comes next.
As I finish this, I'm uploading the Prologue for Part Two. Once I finish my other story I started, In A Big Country, which should in two or so months, uploading on a weekly schedule like this one, I'm gonna take a couple week break before getting back into 40k. At the very least, with the prologue, if you're interested in where Roger's story takes him next, you can find out when the next chapters ready.
I wrote a longer endnote over on Ao3, fitting as that's where this story started, but I do want to thank everyone who has followed, favorited, or just took a chance on it. I'm kind of blown away how many people have read it and enjoyed it. But I'm not done yet, don't worry.
Until next time.