After a few days of preparation, Roger and the Leopards finally ready themselves to depart for Haikk Five. Of course, it would never be that easy, especially for their long-suffering commander, who deals with an emotional outburst by Anya, the reminiscing of Lord Robert D'Uxford, and arguments with Sister Evita over proper equipment distribution. But just as they prepare to leave, he gets more questions than answers from Kallen, who begins to suspect not all is well on Anglerre.
On Haikk Five, Guardsmen of Konstantonoi await the arrival of mysterious reinforcements in the middle of a dark and untouched forest. It is one thing to order men to safely guard new arrivals, it is another if they can do so before the local wildlife gets them first...
The twinkling starlight filled Rogers vision as he looked out the small window in his room. He was able to enjoy it, even after personal concerns should the thick glass fail if the Langriano ever got attacked Since it would be the last time he would get a good view of Haikk System in its cosmic beauty, he stared into the abyss for a good while.
"Did you remember to pack everything you needed, fin naryad?" a soft voice asked from behind.
He felt her presence on his back, hands on both his shoulders, a chin resting on the top of his head. It was as if she wanted to remind him how small he was in comparison.
"As much as I can remember. Food, armor, other nonsense to write reports with. Will you ever tell me what that means, by the way?"
"It is a secret," Anya Syneoch answered with a smile. "One you will never know if I can help it."
"Well that's cute. Better pray you never write it down, cause then I'll have you dead to rights."
"You have not used your… unique ability recently, have you?"
"No. Not much use for it when you're running across an entire system. I'll tell you this-"
She lifted her head off him as he spun around, grabbing her hands and holding them.
"It'd be easier to read Eldari than some of the locals' handwriting, God-Emperor above."
The move and his comment amused her more than she wanted to admit, but there was also a bit of apprehension. It was hard to forget that expedition into the ancient ruins of her species long gone empire, where they had been attacked by their fallen kin and Roger had been given the gift, and curse, of understanding the complex and almost illegible script of the most ancient and proud race in the galaxy.
"Maybe we'll stumble on some more ruins. Your kind had to have settled most of this system, right?"
"It seems that way. But I doubt we will be lucky enough to find any relics of Vaul or something to that effect."
She was wearing her standard uniform, Wraithbone armor covered by a green robe. Given the mix of white and green, Roger had to wonder how the Eldari Rangers stayed as hidden and undetected as they did.
"Hopefully no surprises like last time, eh?"
"In all senses of the word."
"Speaking of surprises, we won't have to expect anything from our new friend, right?"
Anya threw her head back and laughed, surprising Roger.
"Erwan? The man practically worships us. He will cause no issues for anyone."
He looked at her in a bit of surprise. Considering the first meeting between the Leopards and the Vretan knight was him passing out, coming to, and sitting in stunned silence as Roger and the others attempted to explain everything that had happened before he arrived.
"I'm surprised that we Anglois are as tolerant of Xenos as we are, even the more learned of us."
"Well, there is a simple answer for that: he does not believe we are Xenos."
"For fu- tell me he at least doesn't think that you all are abhumans."
"Speridou. Forest spirits. Oddly enough, that is a term in our language as well. He does not seem to understand whatever was on your homeworld was different from our kind."
"Well, it does make things easier. Even if it makes no bloody sense. I was just worried because he was avoiding you all and keeping a safe distance."
She nodded in agreement.
"I do wish to tell you something that the others and I have felt about Erwan. Other than his misguided respect towards us."
"Oh?"
"Something is… strange about him."
"Strange how?"
"That is the oddest part. We can feel something is strange, but we cannot understand what."
"Paranoia about the new guy?"
"Something else. If any of us determine it, we will let you know."
Roger smiled in response, but his mind kicked into overdrive. If the Eldar suspected something was wrong, that was never a good sign. It could be one of the worst signs you could get, actually. As much as he tried to explain their suspicions as paranoia, he was now the worst offender for it. Was there a conspiracy afoot? Was Erwan a trick? A spy? His blood went cold as he had another thought: the Inquisition. What if they had snuck in somebody to spy on his unit? Confirm that they were working with Xenos and then nail them to the wall with the evidence they gathered?
"Do not worry yourself with such things," Anya said quietly. "If there was a serious danger, I would be sure to let you know."
"Thanks," Roger answered meekly.
"No harm will come your way if I can help it. Be certain of that."
She put one of her hands on his cheek, moving towards him. A moment later, their lips were pressed on each other, holding for a few moments. Roger marveled at how warm they were and felt slightly pathetic in how much he enjoyed it. And her as well.
You better not be reading my thoughts.
Will you let me enjoy this?
They held together for a few moments before the locks on his door started to open. They both pulled away, looking at it in slight horror. Like a cat hearing a sudden noise, Anya leapt into the shadows, leaving a stunned and unfocused Roger to deal with whoever had interrupted their moment. He was quickly thankful that she had escaped and got away from him as quickly as she did.
"Roger? I wanted to inform you that Davie and the others are prepared."
"Thank you, Evita," he said with barely hidden irritation. "I take it that all my men are properly blessed and spiritually prepared for whatever we face?"
"Yes," the Sororita answered flatly. "Why were you not with us?"
"I went to the officer's chapel. Bishop Chelmster provided my spiritual guidance."
Her mood instantly relaxed at the statement.
"Forgive me, but I fear for your soul, and the souls of those under your command."
"I understand and appreciate it. I am certain that the lads are happy to have you with them, and not just because you run around with a Heavy Bolter."
He was smart enough not to make a comment on Parky, being the only one genuinely enjoying her company, and to not say anything about the reality of his meeting with the Bishop. While they did meet at the officer's chapel, their discussion had little to do with theology, and more to keep an eye out for any sign of the great enemy he had been chasing for a few weeks now: the Temple Tendency. As much as Imperial and Inquisitorial duties sent him to Haikk Five, there had been rumors and reports of the Temple operating there, and the Bishop was taking advantage of his mission.
"Either way, we are prepared. And what of our… fellows?"
She could not bring herself to say comrades or warriors, unsurprising given her upbringing and the group she belonged to.
"Fine. And what did I tell you about-"
"I am trying. I promise."
She is lying.
Of course she is.
"Well, keep trying. Prince Edmund told me that the Konstantins have Heavy Bolters and the ability to maintain power armor. Less you have to worry about."
"That is good news. And I do look forward to meeting them. Their planet is a jewel in the Imperium, and the cathedrals they build… spectacular. I have seen picts, they build domes with mosaics making one seem so minor compared to the glory of the Emperor."
"Considering the ones we'll work with are in a fort surrounded by enemies; I am sure anyone of the faith is worth their weight in gold."
"I am glad you think so. I only hope that they accept me as quickly as your men have."
"I'm sure they will. Some minor things before I leave, and then we can go. Tell the lads we're heading out soon."
"Very well."
She bowed politely and exited his quarters, Anya slipping out of the shadows.
"We have plans to kill her should her zealotry overtake sense."
"I would prefer you don't, even if that happens."
"What, you actually like her?"
"Parky does. And I wouldn't break his heart."
She bit her lip and sighed.
"As would most of the females in our ranks."
"Correct. So, in the interest of keeping our little group happy, you'll refrain from killing her."
"I never said I was to be involved should the worst happen. But I will keep it in mind and inform the others."
"I would prefer it."
He went back to the window, staring out at the stars that burned thousands of miles away. She slid next to him, her attention divided between the sight and Roger. He did not notice her attempts to read his mind, to delve into whatever secrets he still held from her. Failing to do so ate at her ego with every passing moment.
"Roger, what have you dragged us into?" she asked aloud.
"In general, or going to Haikk Five?"
"The former."
"Why don't you read my mind and try to figure it out? Actually, when did you learn that little trick?"
"I took your advice."
He turned to her, somewhat confused.
"What do you mean?"
"You told me that I should not refuse destiny, and I have not. Of course, it will be a while before I begin training in earnest, but I have started taking small tips and bits of advice from fellow Seer's, including my mother."
"Ah. Well, I'm glad to hear it."
She was silent for a few moments before he heard a noise from her. One the Ranger had never made before: a growl.
"Anya?"
"That is all you have to say? You are glad to hear it? I am sacrificing everything in my life, my freedom and all that entails, and you only say that?"
"Anya, I didn't mean to-"
"What would happen if our love were known? Not just by your comrades, who are too dim to realize what I and my fellow warriors truly are, but those of your species like Evita?"
"You know the answer to that."
Even with her rudimentary ability to read minds, she could sense what his thoughts immediately conjured: death. It came in all forms: a firing squad, burning at the stake, even one gruesome form where he was nailed to what looked like a massive letter "T" from the barbaric script of his people's language.
"Do you know what would happen to me if it was discovered?"
"I never thought about it."
"Because I did not want you to. I would be ostracized, that is certain. Being fond of your lowly and barbaric kind is one thing, and more common than you would believe. Maybe pity more than fondness, but to share such a bond… It is unthinkable. Undesirable. Disgusting. And I am willing to risk it all, being chased to the ends of the galaxy by my mother so she could end my life and the stain on the name of House Syneoch, having to join Corsair gangs, or be with… worse scum of my species in desperation."
A single tear ran down her cheeks. It was a rare occurrence, even for her. Eldar were more susceptible to emotion, but their ability to control it was beyond what any human could imagine.
"We both have so much to lose, and yet you think I can just get away from you. Give up on my feelings. And I do not know if you truly love me or not, I feel more used as a bed warmer than someone you truly care about! And it hurts. It hurts me so deeply that I cannot in good conscience continue to hide it."
"I-I…"
Roger ran his fingers through his brown hair. It was one of the simple, unremarkable traits he had that somehow enticed her.
"Anya," he said as he moved his hand to wipe the tear off her cheek. "I care about you. If you think that, you're crazy. After all, I'm here, on this station, a knight of Anglerre because I went out of my way to help you. That damn canteen and seeing you thirsty… it was the start of something I never expected. I'm already bad at love. More than a few jilted maids and one noble lady on Anglerre can tell you that. A few Cadians and a very frustrated Catachan as well. But our thing-"
He looked out the window again, trying to gather his thoughts.
"It's hard. I don't know what to do or say. I don't know what's right, and if I'm doing it correctly. And I don't want you to follow me so it can end in disaster. I've been a shite partner, I know that. You shouldn't get held up on me because I know I'll screw it all up-"
He stopped, feeling two hands dig into his armpits, his feet lifting off the floor. He was spun around, suddenly looking Anya in the eyes. She was holding him up again, a slightly embarrassing action, but one he could do little to stop. Pulling him in, they embraced, his head on her shoulder.
"I am not letting you go. You are the first being of any kind to make me feel the way I do, and fate has drawn us together. I cannot ignore that."
He squeezed her gently and sighed.
"I understand. It's good to know where we stand on this at least. And… I'm sorry."
"Do not be. You have nothing to apologize for."
They stayed together for a few more minutes before she let him back down on the ground and let go. Looking at him for a few moments, she closed her eyes and nodded. They both knew this would not be the last this would be an issue, but for the moment, they reached an understanding.
"We should find more time to be together when we arrive on this new planet."
"We will. Plenty of time away from everybody, lots of forests and such… we'll make it work. Always have."
He stared into her deep, icy blue eyes and smiled. He was lucky to have her.
Correct.
"For Throne's sake!"
XXXXXX
"Right, here you are."
Lord Robert D'Uxford was standing in his quarters, handing the seated Roger Wessyng reports and other paperwork.
"Most of this you will deliver to the commander of Stratioupolis, rank of Komes, in charge of about 200 or so men, think a banner knight, or in Guard terms a Major or Captain. Battalion size outfit. Name is-"
He looked over another set of parchments to confirm. Thankfully, he had no issues dealing with the various forms, documents and other minutiae that were beloved by the Administratum and Munitorum.
"Manuel Papagos. Reports directly to Taxiarkhes Constantine Delphinas, commands a thousand or so men."
"Wait, so what's a Tagma?"
"Five taxiarchia's, or about five thousand men. I understand the confusion, there never really has been a consistent organization for the more unique Imperial Guard regiments, us included. We are supposed to be eight or so regiments of a thousand, but we never got that right. Anyways, give those to Papagos, he will know what to do."
"I'll be on my best behavior to impress the Konstantins."
"Best of luck on that," D'Uxford said apathetically. "They are probably one of the most organized and professional people we have that are not Cadians or adopting their ways. They believe they are the finest planet in this Segmentum, and they are a small empire on their own."
"Really?"
"They would eventually lose for the sheer resources the Imperium has, but if they broke off, they would have a chance of getting away."
The Lord of Clavham banished the heretical thought and cleared his throat.
"There is another thing I wish to speak with you about. My mother. She is treating you well?"
"As much as an Inquisitor can, I guess. She hasn't threatened to kill me or my family for being near Xenos, so she's better than Commissar Lucan."
D'Uxford nodded at the statement. He remembered Lucan: an insufferable fanatic who saw loyalty to the Imperium and its ideals more important than securing a victory for humanity at large. Another of the many short sighted and blissfully ignorant people who could never grasp ends justifying means and kept the Imperium from achieving victory. Working with the Eldar was a stretch, even for someone as cynical as he, but to tear down Third Corps and Prince Edmund for doing so was too much even for D'Uxford. Lucan's death had been a relief for him, even to the point he ignored the Commissariat ordered autopsy which found that the weapon that killed him was not of any type the rebels or the Anglois carried. In fact, the wounds were remarkably like the ones Roger had inflicted with the strange, bone-white blade he had been carrying since his disappearance into Eldari service, but that was just inconvenient in his eyes.
"Most things are better than Lucan honestly. Oh well. Did she give you any information on her mission for you?"
"Only a set of sealed orders, not to be opened before I reach planet side and for my eyes only and no one else. You included. Actually, she specifically included you."
"Ah, Katherine. Always planning ahead."
"If you will not take offense to Milord, you two are quite similar in many ways."
"She is my birth mother," he said with a twinge of annoyance. "It is inevitable, but not a fact I wish to broadcast. Mind you, I do wonder if I would have been a good Inquisitor."
"I think Prince Edmund prefers you here."
"Correct. By the way, how is Sir Kerhoued? I have not seen him since he joined you a couple of days ago."
Roger scratched his cheek, trying to figure out the best way to explain the Vretans response to the Leopards.
"My men and Sister Evita have commented he is… strange in some ways, but nothing to endanger the unit."
"And the Eldar? Does he believe they are abhumans too?"
"Well…no. But his explanation for them is just as ludicrous."
"Is it going to be a problem?"
"No, he's fully accepted working with them."
The answer was rushed in an attempt to protect not just Erwan, but Vretand as well.
"Good to hear. Ah, pardon me for holding you here longer than necessary, you should depart soon, should you not?"
Roger stood up and bowed, D'Uxford outstretching a hand. It was a luxury afforded to him since his knighting to be treated with such respect.
"Best of luck to you Roger. I cannot tell you if you are charging into danger or an easy assignment. Just try not to get yourself killed; you are quite frankly the only agent we can trust with these sorts of things."
"Thank you, Milord."
"We have plenty of them, but as you probably learned in that near disaster at Al-Madin, they vary in usefulness. But, one must play the cards they are dealt."
"Milord."
He bowed again and started moving out of the room.
"And make sure the Eldar are still on our side by the end of it."
"I've done well so far."
"Keep at it."
As he closed the door, D'Uxford was busy looking over parchments and acted as if Roger had never been there at all. This was not an insult, as he knew. The Prince's spymaster had more important things to handle instead of being sentimental. Moving away from the stark quarters, he headed down the labyrinthine maze of hallways, some filled with fellow Guardsmen or crew of the Starfort. Many of them parted to let Roger through, the powered armor and jupon bearing his heraldry as much a sign of warning as respect. Salutes were returned, some of the more pathetic looking crew bowed, and he thankfully disappeared into the near abandoned part of the station he and his unit resided in. He moved to their barracks and opened the door, seeing Davie and the others getting ready.
"Well?" he asked, the others getting some form of attention.
Roger had been able, through connections and the Prince, to get them new equipment: better lasguns, new flak jackets, and even new helmets.
"This new battery works like a charm Rog," Davie said with unhidden joy, keeping the bowl-shaped kettle helmet that was something of a standard for the Anglois regiments.
"I thought the Hellgun could use a new one. You kept complaining about your back being too warm."
"He's an old bloody man, he complains about everything," Hawke chided.
His plain bascinet meant his ability to pull his Longbows string was completely unheeded.
"Aye," Bob said, his simple flat top helmet still his favorite.
"Where's Parky?"
"Where do you think?"
"The poor lad is gonna get prayed to death Rog, I swear."
"I know."
As if on cue, the door opened again, one figuring towering over them all in black power armor and short silver hair, the other wearing a flak jacket over a red and blue quartered jacket like his comrades.
"Hello sir!" Parky said happily.
"Parky. Sister Evita."
"Sir Roger," the Sororita said as she formed her hands into an Aquila. "Our unit is prepared in equipment and spirit."
"She's telling the truth Boss," Hawke agreed. "Davie actually stayed awake for the whole service for once!"
"I dozed off a bit at the halfway point. I'll get it one day."
Evita frowned at the admittance of theological failure but decided not to dwell on it. Roger looked at the pair and noticed a few missing items.
"Heavy Bolter?"
"Awaiting my requisition from my Orders Holy Armory."
"Did they fix the gyrostabilizer?"
"Yes, thankfully it was an easy repair for the Techpriest."
"Good. Parky, where's your helmet?"
The young man was obviously embarrassed, fixing his lengthening blonde hair.
"I-I got a new one."
The other Leopards looked at him in amusement.
"Really?" Bob asked.
"Yes, I did. Here!"
He lifted a strange, foreign-looking piece of headgear, at least to Anglois standards. To Rogers surprise, instead of giving the poor boy a hard time, the other three gave their approval. It was a good-looking piece of equipment, freshly polished to show a bright silver gleam. Putting it on, they quickly realized that it had a visor that when dropped down, protected his nose and eyes. It had a back piece that safeguarded the neck, and his commander tried to figure out where a Guardsman could find such a piece of work.
Then he noticed flecks of black paint on the sides. And the faint outline of a fleur-de-lis on the front, above the eye slits. He snapped his head to look at Evita, who quickly realized he had figured it out. He pulled her away from the gaggle, his eyes demanding an answer.
"It was an extra helmet we had in our armory. I removed the paint and the symbology. Well, that and the eye pieces."
"You gave him a piece of goddamn power armor?" Roger hissed. "How can he even wear that? It has to be heavy as all hell!"
"You of all people should know how light and protective ceramite is given your own armor. And all parts that connected to the armor have been removed."
"It's not exactly fair to give him something like that while the rest of us are sitting around with simple metal."
"Says the man with a Xenos forged sword."
He opened his mouth to reply but bit his tongue.
"Damn your eyes, I'll tolerate it, but if he gets any more preferred treatment, I'll have to do something."
"What, you think I will give him a Bolt Pistol or some such?"
"Don't be funny with me on this."
He pulled away and whistled, getting everyones attention.
"We're leaving in an hour! Make your peace with whoever and whatever you need to and gather your stuff! If you forget anything, we aren't coming back for a while and you'll miss it until we get back!"
A few grunts and a salute met this as he looked back at Evita, who closed her eyes and bowed her head in acceptance. Satisfied, he walked out of their barracks and back to his own quarters. As he reached the door, he found himself facing an armored figure, clad in black with a large white flower in the middle.
"Sir Erwan! You're early."
"Nerves, Sir Roger. I know that you explained this… Webway we will be traveling on, but I have reservations."
"As did I the first time. It's a bit of a shock going from one place and then finding yourself in another. I'm sure you'll be fine, or at least do better than Evita."
"She did not do well?"
"First time I went through, I felt a bit sick to the stomach and got a headache. Davie and the others felt the same on the first attempt, but she took it worse than everyone. Must have spent ten minutes throwing up, it was almost embarrassing."
"Well, I will try to not do the same."
"You'll never get used to it, God-Emperor knows I haven't, but if you do fine the first jump, you're set."
Erwan nodded, following Roger into his quarters. Moving through the still open passageway to the Eldar camp, they moved in silence before the Vretan spoke.
"I do not mean to be nosy, but what do your men think of me?"
"No issues. They've dealt with worse knights, and as long as you don't piss them off or get in the way of their duties, it'll stay that way."
"I never commanded men before, unless you count a three-man patrol with men at arms. I know that having to rely on someone else to lead your men, especially given your past with them, was not an easy act."
"Considering how big our unit is, knowing how to lead three men is more than enough."
"Will… the Speridou accept my command?"
"They know you have my blessing, so they will do so."
Erwan nodded, the beak-like visor his helmet used as a faceplate lifted.
"How did you earn their trust? Why do they follow you?"
"Good questions. They'll never tell me the answer, so I wouldn't bother trying to figure out why."
"I wish I could be as honored and blessed as you are. I will not lie, I feel some envy at your circumstances."
"You know how I got here, so your envy is misplaced. I earned it somehow, and I wonder if I really deserved it."
They moved to the Webway Gate, a faint hum echoing from it. Nine warriors stood in front of it, equally divided into two Warrior Aspects: Striking Scorpions and Dire Avengers, with the last three being followers of the Outcast through the Rangers.
"Roger," Kallen said with pleasure. "You are early. And you brought Sir Erwan with you."
"He insisted. Nerves about the Webway, you know all that."
"It is quite amusing actually. I have heard legend that some of the highest members of your Imperium attempted to use it for themselves. Thousands upon thousands of cycles ago of course."
"Really? I wasn't aware."
"Well, touching anything made by our hands is taboo and sacrosanct to your people, no? So, we should all keep this inconvenient truth a secret, correct?"
Erwan nodded eagerly, seeming to ignore everything the Scorpion commander said and more interested in watching the Eldar. Quickly realizing this, Kallen approached Roger and grabbed his shoulder.
"Roger, could I speak with you privately?"
"Yeah, is something wrong?"
"Let me explain."
Pulling him away from Erwan, standing still and having a mesmerized look on his face.
"It's Kerhoued, isn't it?"
"Well, the problem is not that he is an issue. It is the fact that he is so much of the opposite."
Roger looked at Kallen in slight confusion.
"What does that mean?"
"The way he treats us… it is a bit pathetic. He treats us as if we are something approaching gods."
"Well, you have to understand that his people think your kind, in various forms, have protected and ensured their safety on Anglerre."
Kallen looked back at him in surprise.
"Please tell me that's possible."
"It… is. Very rare though. I will have to look more into that."
"If you wish, and tell me what you figure out. As long as it's good news of course."
The Scorpion whispered something in Eldari, sounding as much like a question as a statement.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Some things make more sense now. Thank you, Roger."
"Er, happy to help. I guess. Anything else?"
The moment of questioning introspection was brief, Kallen returning to his normal, cheerful self.
"No. I must say, I do look forward to this operation. It will be, as your kind says, "Like old times." A bit of permanence will do us all good I believe."
"Let's see how long it takes before it bites us in the ass like those last couple times, eh?"
"True," he laughed.
He looked at Roger and noticed he was openly wearing the Wraithbone sword gifted to him nearly half a Terran year ago.
"At least you are armed well. Did you ever name it?"
"Your kind names weapons?"
"Humans do not do such?"
"They do, but I never bothered."
"I call mine "Starsplitter". I think you can understand why."
Roger drew his blade and twirled it, Erwan looking at the two with approval.
"A fine blade, Sir Roger."
"Thank you, Sir Erwan."
He looked at it a few moments before his face lit up.
"Do you name your blades poetically or after individuals?"
"Either or. Moire, and you will never tell any man or Eldari this, named her own blade after a lover. "Andal", I believe. Sailor on one of our Craftworlds merchant ships."
"What happened to him?"
"Alive, as far as I know. But being in love with a sailor when you are a warrior yourself would never end well. Why do you ask?"
"I'll name it after a woman I loved and has been gone for a long time."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
"Gwenn," he said before sliding it noiselessly into its scabbard. "I'm calling it Gwenn."
XXXXXX
"Don't like this Barbar. Not one bit."
"You don't like anything on this planet, Kydones. No one comes this far into the forest anyway, so we must be alone."
"Dekarkhes, you think a good lasbolt will kill anything out here?"
"Head on a swivel Gabras. Doesn't matter if you can kill it with a bolt if it gets you before pulling the trigger."
Dekarkhes Bardas Taronites had served the Tagma's of Konstantonoi for a decade now, having cut his teeth securing his home system for the Golden City he had been born into, son of a wine merchant who had fallen into tough times. To them, the past was as important as the present, most obvious in their local tongue, a variant of a language so ancient it was said to be as old as the Emperor himself. In retrospect, he preferred commanding the ten men of his Dekarkhia than spending his days tending to grapes, even if they tended to panic at bad odds or minor inconvenience.
"Gamoto!" one of the veterans swore. "Fucking woods."
"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Stavro?"
"You would not believe what it did to yours, Cyril."
The two laughed, having bled and served as long as Bardas had.
"Hey Dekarkhes," one of the greenhorns asked. "What are we doing here anyway?"
"Because the Kenterion told us to be here and wait for foreigners. You want to argue with him?"
"That asshole? No way!"
"Good boy. Now make sure that nothing gets past us and cuts us to pieces."
A strange bird called out through the trees, sending them all into alert. Bardas hid it well, but he agreed with his men. This forest was nothing but bad news and being sent out here felt as much a way of killing them off as an actual mission. They were well equipped, armed with Kallinkos pattern Lasguns, a Forge World that had supplied their Guardsmen since time immemorial, and wearing lamellar steel and leather armor under their flak jackets. Expensive, but their overlords could afford it as one Konstantin was worth, literally and metaphorically, five or ten other Guardsmen. Even the plain, circular helmets they all uniformly wore were comfortable and protective.
"Saint Maurice, protect us for our safety, and forgive us for our sins-"
"Who's praying? It's just a damn bird!"
The nine men of the Dekarkhia, veteran and new alike, froze at the baying screech of a new animal. They were spread out around the trees and rocks to watch all angles around them, but the whine of battery packs being prepared filled the air.
"What the fuck was that?" Kydones asked.
"I don't know," Bardas hissed. "But it certainly didn't sound friendly."
The rustle of leaves and branches became louder and louder, until it became impossible to ignore. Then, bursting from the foliage in front of him, the culprit emerged: a stag lion, one of the most dangerous and aggressive animals on Haikk Five.
"Skata!"
Everyone stayed still, hoping the animal, massive antlers and powerful frame in view. They could have aimed, but by the time any of them did so, it would charge and cut them all to pieces. He looked right into their leaders' eyes and started to growl, the Dekarkhes mentally praying to Maurice, Konstantin saint of soldiers and warriors. But just before it prepared to strike, a flash of metal and wood came from its left, impacting the beast, which let out a gurgled howl. Another arrow hit next to it, the creature falling stone dead in a moment. The unit let out a sigh of relief, as the crunch of leaves came from the direction the arrows did. The figure wore lamellar armor similar to the rest of his comrades but was lighter and finished with chainmail. The most distinctive part of his uniform was his helmet, adorned with a decorative faceplate. The silvery metal visage looked like a mustachioed man, with two wide eye holes.
"Throne's sake Janos, were you hunting that thing?" Bardas asked.
The facemask was lifted, Janos Bekoba smirking with satisfaction.
"Good kill, Cimyak. You do your ancestors proud," Stavros agreed.
Nodding, Janos pulled the arrows out of the animal's side before turning back to his commander.
"Well, now that we are all together, did you find the arch?"
Janos nodded before pointing to the trees he appeared from. Suddenly, Bardas heard the clanking of armor and weapons echoing in that direction. One after another, figures began appearing from the greenery: two of them in plate armor, wearing helmets with their visors lifted, another four whose only uniform was flak jackets with red-blue quartered jackets underneath, and one massive woman in power armor, wielding a Heavy Bolter. He felt Kydones nudge his side.
"I think that's them."
"Have to be sure though."
He approached the one wearing a light blue jacket with a silver-white chevron through its middle, a golden bird in the left corner, a red sword opposite, and at the bottom a strange, white triangle with a tail.
"The eagle cries," he bellowed.
"And the leopard heeds the warning," the man replied.
"Good to see you got here, however you did so. Dekarkhes Bardas Taronites, Seventh Bandon of the Konstantin Eighth Tagma."
He outstretched his hand, the other man grasping firmly with his gauntlet.
"Likewise. Sir Roger Wessyng, knight serving Prince Edmund of Anglerre."
He spoke well, but the accent was strange. Judging by Sir Rogers slight hesitation at listening to his welcome, the feeling was mutual.
"That scout of yours is quite something, Dekarkhes."
"Janos is a born scout. I would have brought horses, but it's an hour walk from here to Stratioupolis, and we don't want unnecessary harm coming to our mounts."
"Understandable. Well, if you wouldn't mind, we should get going. It's already late, and I know enough about forests to imagine it gets pitch black in this."
"Correct. I wasn't expecting a Sister of Battle to join you."
"It's a long story."
He looked over his shoulder despite the two being about the same height, Bardas maybe a few or more digits taller.
"What in the Emperors name is that?"
"Stag-lion sir," Kydones answered. "Awful creatures. Tear men apart in seconds."
"I pray they're rare."
The Dekarkhia laughed, their leader included. The faces of Roger and his men sank as they realized what they just stepped into.
"Welcome to Haikk Five," Bardas said humorously.