Last chapter for this week. Taking a break to rest and just visit cat cafe.
Proxima.
A planet that was brought into Compliance by fire and sword. At first glance, just another - one might even say ordinary - planet that had become part of the Imperium. Nothing that would attract the attention of chroniclers or historians.
But there was one factor that changed everything.
And that factor was the Emperor.
He Himself intended to come to the planet and conduct the Compliance ceremony, marking the planet's official induction into the Imperium. Such cases were few and they always attracted great attention. After all, this was no ordinary procedural ceremony where planetary leaders signed papers and swore oaths of allegiance - whether of their own free will or after having cold steel pressed to their throats.
The Emperor Himself would receive the oaths from the kneeling former rulers of the planet. And each time it was a majestic event remembered for centuries. Parade formations of the Auxilia, the terrifying giants of the Astartes, the roaring machines of the Mechanicus. For those who had accepted the Emperor's rule, this was proof they had made the right choice. For those who nursed hatred and desired revenge against the invaders, it brought a grim realization of the Imperium's overwhelming might.
Many felt the aura of triumph and celebration. Many - but not all. And among these "lucky ones" was me.
A military tribunal in the case of an Astartes isn't some ordinary nonsense where two star-adorned officials argue with each other while some real soldier sits between them trying not to laugh as he mentally replays dark jokes like "it's not a war crime if you had fun" and so on.
No, this time everything was much harsher and faster. Interrogations, evidence gathering, witness testimony and more. Though there were strange moments. Working with me weren't just the usual bureaucrats, but also people bearing the sigils of an old man who had brought many changes into my life - Malcador the Sigillite.
Even the documents had strange markings. In some of the files shown to me, I was referred to by the title "Child of Terra". Strange, unusual, though we Astartes are clearly not ordinary, and words like "suspect" or "notorious war criminal" don't quite fit us.
Black humor kept bubbling up violently in my mind before spilling out, making the investigators and others snort.
I prepared for the worst, but after a couple of weeks all charges were dropped, though I was told to expect "a difficult conversation" with Lord Malcador the Sigillite himself. The main role in my victory was played by recordings retrieved from the helmets of the corpse-eaters and cannibals - there was such unvarnished evil there that could only be described as complete shit, which led to my release.
One might think this was victory and cause for celebration, but the part about meeting with the Sigillite made me frown. The reason was simple - when people of that level take interest in you, prepare for problems and difficult tasks. This is even worse than when intelligence or other special services use you for their operations - too often such affairs smell bad and end in blood.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't even notice the corridor was full of Space Marines in purple armor.
"Hmph. Look brothers. The savage apparently doesn't understand why he wasn't reprimanded for excessive bloodthirstiness or dirt on his hands," one of the Space Marines with Centurion markings spoke aloud.
His words caused a wave of chuckles and snorts that made me turn my head toward this talkative peacock. Seeing him brought recognition that made a contemptuous smirk appear on my face.
He recognized me too but threw a glance at the small nameplate with my name, and with each moment of realization his body was seized by a slight trembling as if before a fight.
"Abdemon. My old acquaintance. I thought you'd died long ago in some ditch like a mangy dog. But fate has a sense of humor since you not only survived but managed to rise in rank." My gaze swept over the other members of this jackal pack and I recognized many of them - "I see it's not just you. Eidolon. Lucius. Tarvitz. What a disappointment, though in Tarvitz's case I'm actually glad."
"Buri," Abdemon nearly spat the words and fell silent without even trying to engage in a battle of stares.
Interesting, one might even say very unusual situation, since the famously arrogant warriors of the Third Legion were behaving like rabbits before a serpent. And the explanation was simple.
These were the very bastards I had beaten and broken at the beginning of my Astartes initiation, and I did it so well that I was transferred to another legion despite originally being slated for the Third due to my noble lineage.
"No, no. Abdemon. Not Buri, but Grand-Captain Buri. Though I would have liked it if you addressed me the way we did in childhood. Master. Lord. Ruler. Sovereign. I still remember how loudly you begged me not to break your entire arm but settle for just a couple fingers and dunking your head in a filthy toilet. How you pleaded, mmm. What memories, that even after so many years and procedures I still remember those wonderful moments. Do you remember them?" With a bloodthirsty smile I slowly approached and demonstratively sniffed the air.
"Yes. You remember. That smell of urine and your ragged breathing speaks for you. I've been transported right back to those blessed times." I openly mocked him without restraint while simultaneously throwing eloquent glances at his comrades.
"You bastard!" Abdemon responded furiously, his hand gripping his sword's hilt tighter.
"Now, now. Shitdemon. I was conceived in lawful and recognized marriage between two noble and great people. Not like you, the product of drunken conception between two minor landholders who had only recently washed up and stopped smelling like serfs." I twisted my face in feigned disgust and stepped back a couple meters.
"You know, Shitdemon. I've had difficult months and frankly terrible last two weeks. I could use some stress relief, and there's nothing better than beating the shit out of upstart scum who think too highly of themselves. So now you're following me to the nearest fighting pit to help restore my inner balance." I summoned the petty clerk who was supposed to be my escort and asked him to find a sparring area.
"Buri you're insane if you think you can order us around! We're not your subordinates! We're the chosen of the Third Legion!" Abdemon began raising his voice but when he saw my angry glare and raised eyebrow, his fighting spirit began fading.
"I repeat, Shitdemon. To you it's Grand-Captain Buri and more respect. That you received the rank of Captain-Centurion or whatever it's called in my eyes only means you were given a shiny trinket for polishing your sword. Nothing more. Returning to the topic of your assistance in venting steam. Right now despite the difficult tribunal process I still have a drop of kindness in my soul. But if you refuse now, I will formally challenge each of you to a duel. And the reason will be insult followed by accusations of cowardice. None of you will be able to weasel out of this challenge."
I took out a small handkerchief embroidered with the Fifth Legion's monogram and covering my nose with it as if protecting from a bad smell, approached Abdemon who was simultaneously blushing and paling.
"And the duels will be harsh. I would even say cruel. Because even if you manage to beg for first blood, nothing stops me from quickly beheading you or striking to gut you from navel to throat. Though if I'm in a playful mood, nothing stops me from disarming you and then immobilizing you followed by bone-breaking, joint-tearing and muscle-ripping since not a single drop of blood will touch the floor until I tire of playing with you. By the way, do you remember your favorite move - the guillotine?" My thirst for battle and desire to inflict pain was so strong it made all Astartes step back and grab their weapons as if facing a wild and dangerous enemy while normal humans trembled in fear.
"Well? I'm waiting for your answer." I took a step toward them and smiled.
I understood they had no way out. If they refused, rumors would spread about weakness and cowardice of Third Legionnaires. And with such reputation nothing good awaited them. My strike was calculated and precise, leaving no hint of safe exit from the trap. Now all that remained was to wait.
"For the Legion's honor I'll gut you myself and make you beg for mercy!" Lucius burst forward, fire of anger burning in his eyes though hidden notes of fear could be seen.
"At least someone has courage. Though it's still disappointing you were first to speak up, Lucius. You're not the smartest or most skilled even by my low standards for Third Legion warriors. Do the others agree with you? After all, a jester's words don't carry same weight as a king's." I smirked looking at the enraged Lucius.
"Yes! All as one! Honor means something to us!" Lucius roared but to his surprise my smile only widened.
"Magnificent. Well then, puppets. I'll be waiting in the ring. By the way, how shall we fight? One on one? Or do you want to relive fun times and try attacking all together or from behind?" I asked them with eyes full of mischief and thirst for battle.
"One on one! Honest fight! Steel against steel!" Lucius blurted out, thrusting his sheathed sword forward.
With a snort I just waved my hand at them like slaves to follow me. I even got to see how the others got furious, except Tarvitz who was the only one not letting emotions show, responding only with cold fury.
In the past world they might have shaken their heads or twirled fingers at temples. How could this be? People fighting on same side and such madness, fighting each other. But now the world was more cruel and the cult of strength had its place, thankfully the techno-barbaric past made itself known. And let's be honest, duels in past life weren't banned that long ago and they just changed into bulldogs fighting under the carpet, especially in interdepartmental relations.
Brrr. Remembering cases of undelivered supplies or friendly fire and other setups immediately made me bitter and disgusted. Better this way - honestly letting each other's blood in duels than scheming behind backs. Much less blood gets spilled this way and fewer people die, especially innocents.
The way to nearest sparring area didn't take long though about fifteen-twenty minutes had to be spent getting to a place that could withstand Astartes. But what was surprising was the number of spectators.
"Rork? What are you doing here? And how did you even hear about what happened? By the way, why are there non-Astartes here?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise and nodded toward civilians and military personnel standing in corners.
"I was immediately notified by one of your bodyguards. And the clerk who was your escort immediately passed the request and cleared space for the fight. Then rumors spread like waves in all directions. Buri, what have you gotten into now? I only understood that you crossed blades with Third Legionnaires and it nearly came to bloodshed." Rork crossed his arms and sighed tiredly.
"Just met some friends from harsh childhood. Remember I told you they first wanted to shove me with these purples but I was too hardcore for these weaklings so they transferred me? Well some of them forgot to control what their tongues say and I had no choice but to remind them that too long a tongue might lead to too long a piece of steel in the body." I jokingly summarized the situation.
"Hm. So these are those same weaklings you beat and made into your, as you called them, bitches in childhood?" Understanding dawned in Rork's eyes and a smile played on his face.
"Yes. I'm glad you remember my stories. Now tell me, would you mind pairing up with someone as judges? Originally I planned some sparring and beating them like servitors but now I think it will come down to duels." I nodded toward other Astartes in purple armor who immediately surrounded Abdemon, Eidolon, Lucius and Tarvitz.
"Duels? Buri maybe you shouldn't risk it? One or two duels with you then have one of ours replace you?" Rork's face tensed.
"Rork, I thought you were my friend and believed in me. But your words are full of doubt and lack of faith. Don't shatter my heart with this behavior, just stand aside and try not to get splashed by the blood fountains that will soon erupt from these pigs who haven't realized they've entered a slaughterhouse." I feigned disappointment and jokingly clutched my heart.
"Buri! Stop clowning around. Your sword skills are no reason to let ego lead you. Especially since you recently killed one centurion and got out of a pile of shit. And now I seriously doubt this won't end in death. Plus some of these officers will be honor guard for the Emperor Himself during the final Compliance ceremony!" By the end of his speech Rork was getting angry.
But when he saw the cold glint in my eyes, he immediately calmed down. He knew that look - he'd seen it too often both in battle and duels. He realized I was just clowning on the surface while being completely serious inside.
"Ugh. Do what you must." He extended his hand and I grasped it in ancient warrior greeting.
"And come what may. I can't just play around, Rork. Not with them. The fear of me still lives inside them. Now hand me my sword." Rork nodded with a serious face and moments later returned with a sword wrapped in Fifth Legion's flag adorned with personal seals of Chief Techmarine Bharvon and Tribune Volkov.
Unfolding the flag I drew it out. The sword that had spilled my blood but now belonged to me. A xenos sword that was like malevolent mist and had been the most dangerous opponent on my path. But it died by my hand and now its weapon was mine.
Moreover, I didn't just take it by right of conquest but reforged it into a double-edged two-handed blade. Yet even that didn't stop it from keeping its cruel nature. The blade still frightened with its cold and frankly dark color like a panther waiting to attack its prey and drink its fill of enemy blood.
Finishing my inspection I entered the circle and closed my eyes.
"First to answer the challenge is Lucius! The fight will be non-lethal without inflicting serious wounds!" Rork loudly announced to all.
My opponent entered the circle and began examining me.
I kept standing with closed eyes.
"Heh. Think you'll scare me with that strange blade? Or showing off by closing your eyes? That won't help you! Those days are gone when you seemed strong and mighty." Lucius began talking and even through closed eyelids I felt how with each word his vanity and ego grew stronger.
"Why are you silent? Realized you're still living in the past? That we've become much stronger! My swordsmanship has been recognized even among my brothers. Answer me! Look me in the eyes and answer, you stupid sav..." He didn't finish as I opened my eyes and met his gaze.
"You're going to hurt. Very badly." I whispered barely audibly.
These words made Lucius falter for a brief moment, his eyes showing ancient fear. Because these were the exact words I'd say before breaking something or making him experience agony and pain.
"No! No! No!" Not words but a growl tore from his throat as he tried to overcome sticky fear with fury.
"Yes." A single word left my lips and next second I attacked.
Lucius caught my strike in a hard block. Blades clashed with a metallic shriek and sparks, momentarily locked in balance. Lucius even felt encouraged and smiled, taking this as first step to victory.
But this was a mistake. I wasn't just a swordmaster but also taller and stronger. Slightly increasing pressure broke the balance. Lucius's blade started moving toward his face, he resisted and when less than two inches remained between steel and his face, balance returned.
The opponent strained all his strength and even cheered when the sword moved a couple centimeters from his face. But again - mistake. He got so absorbed in our clash that all his attention was on the blades. So it was an unpleasant surprise when pressure suddenly lessened. He gave in just for an instant but that was enough for me to strike his chest hard with the sword's pommel.
The sudden change in pressure, brief confusion and inability to retreat or dodge led to him falling to the ground.
Not giving him a chance to rise, I put my foot on his chest and with my sword struck his blade hard, knocking it from Lucius's hands. He should have surrendered and signaled the judges. Only stubbornness and resurging fear of his opponent stopped him.
Then it was too late. My blade began striking vulnerable spots in armor joints. Thin streams of blood flowed from wounds and punctures. I was about to stab his dominant hand.
But a sharp cry from judges made me stop the blade inches from the armor.
"Victory to Grand-Captain Buri! The duel cannot continue due to risk of wounds becoming severe which is prohibited in this duel. Does anyone disagree with judges' decision?" Rork looked at those present while his colleague from Third Legion just stood arms crossed, not taking his eyes off me and the blade in my hand.
"I accept your decision. But I must do one more thing. I swear it carries no risk of severe wounds." Without waiting for answer I grabbed Lucius by the hair and with my sword sheared off most of it.
"In your homeland's history, Lucius, there was a legend that slaves and thralls weren't permitted long hair. That was only for warriors and their leaders. And you fit neither category. Know your place." I threw the shorn locks on the floor and with a contemptuous look stepped back to my half of the circle where I began inspecting the blade for damage.
"You...you...I hate...fear..." Lucius muttered until Third Legion's Apothecary and assistants carried him out.
This brought a slight smirk and inner satisfaction of a job well done.
"Next." I lowered my sword point-down and closed my eyes again.
Eidolon entered the circle with quick steps and I opened my eyes. He wasn't bad, I'd even say good. Not a trace of fear in his eyes which radiated such contempt that drenched not just me but everyone around us.
"Empty bravado, Eidolon. For you by the way I also have a history lesson. Want to hear it?" I smiled with just my lips and took fighting stance.
"No. I'm here to spill your blood and prove you're just an arrogant braggart."
"Ha. Irony. Or sarcasm? Just unusual hearing about others' pride from your mouth. But I'll begin. You're from one of those small pseudo-kingdoms near Ursha, right?" Not letting me finish, Eidolon attacked first but was still too slow, letting me easily evade.
"Rude. Though I thought you were taught more refined manners. Now I'll continue. So these small kingdoms should have fallen long ago. Disunited, weak, few in number. Frankly pathetic. But what was their secret of survival?" Another attack at me hit nothing thanks to evasion.
"And it's simple. Tribute. You paid us tribute. Food, iron, machines. But the most valuable thing you gave was people. Your serfs and slaves went in droves to mines, fields and waste pits where they died after some time. With their lives they bought you survival chances. Only sometimes you didn't have enough and had to pay with something else." Next attack was more precise and faster, forcing me to parry with my blade and break distance.
"And that was your kin. Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles. All your relatives except outright elders, who you preferred to slit throats and throw for processing rather than waste food on useless two-legged cattle, lived in constant fear of losing everything to become mere bargaining chips and tribute payment." Another strike and attempt to kick my leg which I blocked but had to exert more force to push back the angering Eidolon.
"Men became test subjects for scientists. Victims for those working with the Warp. Dolls and targets for young Urshan warriors' training. And women. Despite you considering them noble maidens, in Ursha they were just meat for pleasure. Rarely taken even as third or tenth wives. Mostly concubines who with age were given to common warriors for amusement. Hope you're starting to understand the point I'm making by telling all this?" I parried his blade then suddenly grabbed his arm.
Eidolon tried to break free but I held firmly, not letting go. He tried to strike with his sword but my strike was stronger, forcing his blade far back. Eidolon didn't react in time as my sword approached his neck. A thin stream of blood flowed down the blade as small drops began falling.
"And the point is simple. In my eyes you're weak. Tribute. Victim. Doll. Don't forget that when looking at me. Now kneel." Eidolon decided to show character and kept standing.
"Hm. Must continue the history lesson." A light sweep and he fell, next moment my blade pierced his forearm, pinning him to ground like a butterfly in an entomologist's collection.
A kick to the face painted it red from a broken nose. Not letting him recover I grabbed his hair and repeated what I did to Lucius.
"To help the lesson stick, it would be good to have a partner who'll help you two remember the most important things. Next!" I shook the hair onto the ground.
Civilian spectators began whispering and discussing. My warriors looked at me with pride. Third Legionnaires could only clench fists helplessly.
With Eidolon removed, the circle was clean and ready for next bout.
"Abdemon. Now your turn. But this history lesson will be personal. Prepare..." I didn't finish as doors to the hall suddenly burst open and an unknown weight seemed to press on me.
I couldn't even move.
"Cease. Immediately!" A stern voice full of power and authority made everyone fall silent and become still as statues.
Applying all possible effort I managed to turn my head. And I wish I hadn't.
Because the speaker and source of that crushing pressure was a very familiar old man.
Malcador. Malcador the Sigillite. Regent of Terra.
"Well shit."
Words that succinctly and completely conveyed the situation I found myself in.