Sky Falling
Epilogue
By author Perfidious Albion
Imperial histories record that in the year 757 of the 30th millennium—eighty-seven years into the Great Crusade—the XXI Legion received its name. It was granted by the Emperor, beloved by all, for their valour in the Battle of Tenebris IV near the southern end of the western Perseus Arm.
That had been in the golden years, the golden age of the Imperium by Vergilius's reckoning, when the Legion was fighting in the Perseus Illumination, that grand campaign during the Great Crusade's first century to bring the western Perseus Arm under the Imperium's aegis. In those years, the Emperor had wandered often between galactic north and south and east and west. He had not taken permanent residence in any one region of the Great Crusade. Most often, he left the armies in the west to themselves and to Aurora Starchild, just as the campaign in the east was commanded by Ozymandias Solarian. On some occasions, though, the master of mankind came and fought on one front or the other—sometimes for obvious purpose, other times appearing in person at some world for reasons no-one knew and few would dare to ask.
In the Battle of Tenebris IV, Vergilius and his brothers of the XXI Legion had fought bravely and well at the forefront of combat, leading the charge against the corrupt, gene-engineered monsters of that dark and forsaken planet and the Tenebrians who had created them. It had been a bitter battle, for the gene-bred war-beasts were formidable and the world's climate was hostile, warped by an ancient terraforming device from the Golden Age of Technology. They had won the battle at great cost in blood. The final foe was a massive bio-engineered gene-construct, a foul creation of perverted science, so deadly and so immense that it could only be felled by the hands of the Emperor himself, beloved by all. It had claimed the lives of many good men, including Legion Master Gaius Valimens, before it fell to the Emperor's fiery blade.
Of the thousands of Space Marines who had penetrated the final bastion of the enemy—a temple of vile god-worship—all but a few hundred had been struck down. Vergilius had been one of those lucky few. But for their valour they had earned the esteem of the one who stood above all others. The Emperor himself had praised the men of the XXI Legion, saying they had made for "a stellar vanguard".
Legion Master Philipus Corpula, newly ascended to that position, had seized his chance. He always was a wily man, that one; never a great warrior, but a skilled campaign commander, with a quick eye for opportunity. Taking inspiration from the Emperor's words, Corpula declared his brothers the Stellar Vanguard, leading the way, foremost in the fight, the Emperor's shining fist among the stars. The Emperor had been right there during Corpula's speech and he had not spoken to decline, which they all took to be as good as his permission. The XXI had gone by the name of 'the Stellar Vanguard' ever after.
At that moment, Vergilius had felt so proud he could burst from it. If he had died right then, he would have died happy.
He wondered what his past self who fought in that battle would have thought of himself and his Legion now.
No, that was a lie, and he should not lie to himself. He did not wonder. He knew what he would have thought. He only wished that he could wonder.
Five Space Marine Legions had been committed by the Emperor to the Perseus Illumination. Other Legions had battled there for some time, more or less, such as the IV and XIV. But five had been ever-present. Counted alongside Vergilius's brothers in the XXI had stood the III Legion, the Thunderers; the XIII Legion, the Stormdaughters; the XVI Legion, the Crimson Guard; and the X Legion, the Daughters of the Dawn. And it was their Golden Lady who, by the Emperor's will, held mastery.
Vergilius thought back often to that time. He had wished so long for his brothers and himself to have a Primarch of their own. He had certainly not disdained Lady Aurora. Indeed he had liked and admired her. Who would not? A knight in shining armour on the battlefield, sweet-hearted and ladylike off it… ever in the thickest of the fighting, leading from the front, striking down the Imperium's foes with a golden sword… fierce and fearless, lethal and beautiful, humble and kind… warm and respectful to everyone from high lords to street-cleaners, remembering the details of their little stories and their children's names… mingling with her soldiers, weeping with them for their losses, doing them more honour than she did herself…
She was everything that men admired. But… she was not his Primarch. For most of the Perseus Illumination the Legions fought separately. Indeed for most of the whole Great Crusade they fought separately, and the campaign in the western Perseus Arm was no exception. Few opponents of the Imperium of Man took more than one Space Marine Legion to defeat them. Most required less than one. Assembling a whole Legion in one star-system was not for the average battle. Space Marines fought in fractions of a Legion more often than not.
When he saw her, Lady Aurora had been a wonder to behold: a golden whirlwind of flashing blades in battle, and in peace a smiling figure of light and laughter. He had not often seen her. Vergilius Masimus had fought under the Sun Queen's command for more than a hundred years. Once every one or two decades, he saw her face. It felt ungrateful to want more than that. Average Imperial Army troops did not get more, after all. But he did want it.
He had wanted his Primarch.
He had not held ill will towards the Bringers of Light. They were kind, welcoming, mingling, difficult to resent. He had envied them, though. Vergilius knew he would not have admitted it at the time, not even to himself. But time granted introspection. He understood himself well enough to realise that by now.
He had not wanted to outshine his friends and comrades in the X Legion, and certainly not to upstage or humiliate them. He had merely wanted his Legion to shine like them, to step out of their shadow with their own great and noble Primarch. What the Bringers of Light had with Lady Aurora, he and his brothers had wanted for themselves: a fearless warrior-lord who would lead them to honour, love them and cherish them, as the Golden Tenth were led and loved and cherished by their lady.
That was what they had wanted. Was that envy so foul? Was it so wrong as to make them deserve what had happened instead?
For years the Stellar Vanguard had been spoken of in the same breath as the Bringers of Light whom they so often travelled near to: honourable, chivalrous, un-haughty, decent and fair. Vergilius and his brothers had not been satisfied with that. They had long desired to find the Twenty-First Primarch.
The future had rewarded him in the cruellest way it could. It had granted his wish.
How could he have been so blind? What a fool he had been, looking forward to a supposedly better tomorrow and taking for granted what he had today. Vergilius and his brothers—his true brothers, born on the soil of Terra—had imagined their undiscovered Primarch as possessing every virtue: gentle and sweet-natured, fierce in battle, fierce in devotion to the Emperor, fierce in passionate hatred of xenos slime, chivalrous and decent with humans, loving to his Astartes sons, courageous and heroic, inspiring, honest and honourable and kind.
In hindsight it was so obvious it was blinding: the commander they had wanted was the Lady of the Dawn. They had dreamt of replacing her with herself. Her exact replica, just in sky-blue armour, not gold, and with a numeral XXI upon her chest. What ingratitude, Vergilius thought. What stupidity. What utter folly his hopes and dreams had been.
A fatherless Legion had craved for decades to be reunited with their gene-sire. And now that they had found him, he would give anything for it not to have happened, to be a fatherless Legion again.
In the year 837.M30, years after the end of the western Perseus campaigns but still with the XXI fighting near the X Legion, the Emperor rediscovered his son. Lord Haqqan was lurking at the fringes of the Adaran Nebula, leading a crew of mixed xenos and human pirate scum, preying on the innocent. Not that his Legion knew that yet. Their newfound lord called them to his side, so, of course, they had answered.
Thus Vergilius and his battle-brothers had parted ways from the Sun Queen and taken up company of the Night Ghoul. And with that, Haqqan's shadow had been cast over the future of the Legion that he loved. Not the piratical Legion of the Adaran Nebula but the Legion that had fought, that black day, on Tenebris IV; the Legion that had been spoken of in the same breath as the Bringers of Light, virtuous, honourable and fair; Gaius Valimens's Legion (oh Emperor did he miss Gaius Valimens); the Legion of which the Emperor himself had once said, "They are fine men."