=== Sebastian ===
The cathedral was silent save for the soft whisper of incense burners and the faint echo of distant hymns sung by the faithful in the outer halls. Candles lined the base of the towering statue of the Emperor, their flames swaying in the stillness, each one a trembling prayer in wax and fire. Sebastian knelt in the shadow of His image, bare of his warplate, clad only in his undergarments.
The Black Templar's head was bowed, his lips murmuring the sacred canticles of devotion. His newly-forged left arm, wrought from polished Beskantium hummed quietly, the faint glow of its inner mechanisms casting a pale light across the stone floor.
"…By Thy will, O Lord of Mankind, hold him close to Thy chest. Grant him a seat at Thy side, so he may witness Thy servant strike down his killer. Grant They servant the strength to endure, as Thou place the Imperium on mine shoulders." Sebastian whispered, his voice low and fervent. "Let my blade never falter, let my shield never break. In the shadow of corruption, make me Thy fire."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the soft echo of boots upon stone.
The officer who entered moved with reverence, his pace measured, his eyes cast low in respect as he carried an object wrapped in blood red cloth. He did not speak until he stood at Sebastian's side, waiting patiently for the warrior's prayer to finish. When the Black Templar finally lifted his gaze to the statue, the officer bowed his head slightly.
"It is done," the officer said. His voice carried a solemn pride. "The blade is complete. Lord Raxor has just sent it. The Imperial Regent herself has also given her command: we are to prepare for full-scale war."
Sebastian drew in a breath, his massive frame rising as he pressed his right fist, his flesh hand, to his chest. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight as he regarded the statue one final time. "Then the hour is upon us," he said, his voice deep, resonant. He rose to his full height, towering over the officer, and inclined his head. "Attend me."
A group of serfs entered the chamber, their heads bowed, their movements careful. Between them, they carried great racks and stands, upon which lay the armor of the Black Templar, black as voidsteel, gilded with purity seals and inscribed with oaths.
The serfs approached as though bearing holy relics. They knelt before Sebastian, placing the armor pieces at his feet before beginning the ritual of armoring.
Sebastian extended his arms, broad shoulders squared, chest bared to the flickering light of the candles. One by one, the surfs lifted the pieces of his warplate and set them upon his body.
The chestplate was first, lowered carefully onto his torso, the clasps hissing shut as the power feeds connected with the ports on his skin. Next, the greaves and sabatons, sealed tight against his legs, immovable as a fortress. The vambraces came next, each one inscribed with fresh litanies of battle, affixed to his arms with sacred oils.
Each piece that locked into place made the air hum, the Black Carapace beneath his skin fusing with the ancient machine-spirit of the warplate.
The surfs lifted the great storm shield next, purity seals fluttering as though alive, the bones of Mace Windu and the metal of his lightsaber freshly polished. They placed it within reach, but did not hand it over yet. That final step would come last.
The last piece was the helm. A surf lifted it reverently, raising it high before lowering it into Sebastian's waiting hands. He studied its dark visor for a long moment, the reflection of the Emperor's statue gleaming across it. Then, without a word, he placed it over his head. The world sealed with a hiss, and his vision filled with the red glow of the helm's optics.
Now fully clad in his warplate, Sebastian reached out and took up his storm shield. It locked onto the coupling on his bionic arm with a sharp click. The power lines engaged, the runes flared, and for the first time since his injury, he felt whole again. Well, almost.
The serfs lowered themselves to their knees as the officer stepped forward reverently, holding out the object in his hands.
He pulled back the cloth, revealing the weapon within. It was the Darksaber, but reborn. Where once it had been a blade made for the hand of a Mandalorian warrior, now it had been reforged to suit an Astartes, its hilt was lengthened and reinforced, wrought of obsidian Beskantium.
Its energy matrix had been reforged by Raxor's masterful hand, calibrated to endure the sheer might of a Space Marine's grip and swing.
Sebastian extended his hand, and took the weapon.
Sebastian activated the blade.
Immediately the sword came alive, its black blade springing into existence with a sound like thunder cracking. The shadows of the cathedral seemed to recoil from its lightless edge, catching the glow of the lightning scattering across its blade.
Sebastian lifted the weapon, holding it high. "A blade taken from a fallen warrior, reforged by loyal brotherhood, and sanctified by war." His voice was steady, resonant. "It shall serve as a symbol. Not of what was lost… but of what shall be won."
The officer bowed his head. "The Regent believes it is fitting, Lord Sebastian. This blade carries with it centuries of conflict and bloodshed. Now it will carve a new path, one under the Emperor's light."
"You forget your place." Sebastian corrected darkly. "It was already in the Emperor's service. All that has changed is who wields it."
The man recoiled.
"Tell the Regent I am ready. Tell her the Black Templar will march. And when we go to Mortis, the Emperor's justice will be delivered by this blade."
Sebastian turned back to the statue of the Emperor. He raised his sword high, the blade drinking the light of a hundred candles, and spoke in a voice that shook the chamber.
"For the Emperor. For Terra. For the Regent. I go to war."
The echoes of his words lingered, long after the Black Templar strode from the cathedral, armored and unbreakable, the sound of his footsteps like thunder on stone.
=== Raxor ===
The forge roared like a beast, its great bellows pumping air into the heart of the fire. The heat was enough to turn the chamber into an oven. Sparks leapt from the massive anvil with every strike of Raxor's hammer, each blow ringing out. The Salamander worked bare-armed, his black skin glistening with sweat and soot, the muscles of his massive frame taut as corded steel.
He drew the hammer down once more, sending a flare of molten light from the half-finished armor upon his anvil. The ringing echo of the hammer faded, leaving only the low growl of the forge-fire and the hiss of steam. Raxor set the armor piece aside, and drew in a deep, measured breath. His skin was streaked with soot, his red eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction as he looked at the armor piece.
"Raxor?"
The voice was soft and hesitant, yet warm. He turned his head to see Sienn, standing in the doorway. She clutched a data-slate close to her chest, her lekku twitching faintly with nerves.
"You shouldn't linger near the forge, without your protective gear. You know the heat bites too deep for those not born of Nocturne."
Sienn stepped inside regardless, her eyes lingering on the towering Astartes with the mix of awe and concern she always carried. She lowered her voice, as though the flames themselves might overhear. "The Imperial Regent has given the order. We're preparing for full-scale war."
Raxor straightened to his full height, towering above her, and set aside his tools. His massive hands reached for a bucket of water, which hissed furiously as he plunged them in. He scrubbed soot from his skin, the scars of decades of battles stark beneath the grime.
"So, it's finally time then." he murmured, voice gravelly. He wiped his face with a cloth. "Tell the Regent I will be there momentarily."
Sienn moved out of his way as he walked from the forge into the main room where droids whirred into motion, trundling forward with the pieces of his black and green warplate. She helped them carefully, her hands small compared to the massive slabs of ceramite. But she had done this before.
Her voice trembled faintly as she lifted one of the vambraces. "I… I don't like it when you go. Not this time. They say Mortis is cursed, and the Republic are moving too. If the Regent is sending all of you—"
He bent slightly, placing one massive hand on her shoulder gently despite its size. His red eyes softened, though his expression remained stern. "Sienn," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a truth repeated countless times. "I have told you this a thousand times over, and I will tell you a thousand more. I will always come back to you."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she nodded, biting her lip to hold them back as one hand clutched the dagger at her side. She busied herself fastening the vambrace around his colossal forearm, even as her hands trembled slightly.
The droids moved as well, locking each plate of armor into place with heavy clicks. Greaves sealed over his legs, the breastplate lowered across his torso, his pauldrons affixed with care.
"You can't always know that." She said faintly.
He placed a hand on her cheek, calloused thumb brushing away a stray smudge of soot she had picked up. "I forge my own path, child. This will be no different than all the others."
He held out one massive hand for the last of his armor save for his helmet, and she hesitated before giving him the sash she had made for him all those years ago.
He took it from her, and deftly wrapped it around his waist.
At last, the droids presented his helmet. Raxor took it in both hands, his red eyes lingering on Sienn one last time. She stood small beside him, clutching the handle of her knife, staring up as though memorizing his every line before he departed.
He inclined his head slightly. "Stay strong, little flame. Keep the forge burning until I return."
With that, he lowered the helm over his head. The seals hissed closed, and the world took on the filtered clarity of his wargear.
He turned, the thunder of his armored steps shaking the floor. Behind him, Sienn watched in silence, her heart tight with fear and hope, until the doors shut.
=== Maximus ===
The chamber was quiet save for the faint hum of the lumen globes and the soft chime of data-slate runes. Maximus sat behind his broad, metal-banded desk, hunched forward in thought as his massive hands scrolled through reports, histories, and fragments of exploration logs.
The Ultramarine captain's eyes narrowed slightly as the holographic projection shifted, showing the known routes that extended into the wild frontier of the galaxy's Unknown Regions. Entire quadrants marked as voids where the Imperium and even the Republic knew little or nothing.
The doors to his study hissed open, and Bo-Katan stepped inside.
"Lord Maximus," she said, her tone respectful. "The Imperial Regent has given the order. We are to prepare for full-scale war."
Maximus looked up from the glowing slate, his deep voice filling the chamber.
"Sit."
Bo-Katan blinked, visibly caught off guard by the request. "Lord?"
"Sit," Maximus repeated, raising a hand with patient insistence. His eyes, dark and steady, brooked no refusal. "There is something I wish to discuss."
She hesitated, then set her helmet down on the desk with a soft clink. She slid into the chair opposite him, her brow furrowed, curiosity warring in her eyes.
Maximus leaned back, his towering frame somehow even larger seated, the chair creaking faintly beneath his bulk. He gestured toward a holographic map between them.
"The Unknown Regions," he said. His tone was neither dramatic nor casual. "Tell me, what do you know of them?"
Her eyes followed his gesture, narrowing as she considered. She leaned back slightly in her chair, arms folding across her chest. "Not much that's reliable," she admitted. "Trade routes are broken, fleets that wander in don't always return. The Republic has some records, but even they tread lightly. It's… chaotic out there. A place where navigational charts change overnight. But," she added, her lips tightening in thought, "I've heard whispers of civilizations out there. Hidden empires. Resources unlike anything in the core."
Maximus gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Yes. Chaotic, yet also potential. Opportunity and danger." He leaned forward, the glow of the projection reflecting in his sharp eyes. "When this war is done, I intend to press for expansion in that direction. The Imperium grows stronger with every conquest, yet it will need more. Resources, knowledge, and perhaps even new allies. The Unknown Regions are the natural frontier."
Bo-Katan tilted her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You sound like a conqueror and a dreamer, all in one."
For a long moment, the two sat in silence, the weight of his words lingering. Then Bo-Katan leaned forward, tapping a finger on the map projection. "Then let's do just that." She said in a tone that raised his eyebrow.
"Once this war is done, the Azure Talons could be remade as an exploration legion. Scouts. Pathfinders. Soldiers who map and secure new worlds in the Unknown."
Maximus looked at her across the desk, considering her with the patience of one who weighed every possibility. Finally, he allowed the faintest of smiles to crease his stern features.
"That," he said quietly, "would be an incredible idea."
The two of them sat together in the silence of the study, the map of the galaxy flickering between them.
But Maximus was no fool. He straightened, shutting down the data-slate with a decisive gesture. His face hardened once more. "But unfortunately, it will never happen. The Imperium does not dream of exploration anymore. It dreams of survival. And survival demands war."
Bo-Katan did not argue, though she studied him carefully, perhaps seeing the faint trace of bitterness in his words. He rose to his full height, towering over the desk, his voice firm once more, all traces of warmth now buried beneath the Captain's mantle.
"Prepare the Legion. Muster the Azure Talons for war."
She stood as well, sliding her helmet back under her arm. She gave him a sharp nod, the iron in her voice matching his. "It will be done."
She turned and made for the door, but his voice called her back.
"Bo."
She paused, glancing over her shoulder.
"Double-check the remade Centurion suit," Maximus said. "Run one last diagnostic. Ensure Raxor's improvements function as intended. I will not have failure on the field because of negligence."
Bo-Katan's lips curved into the faintest smile, a flicker of Mandalorian pride at the implied trust. "I'll see to it personally."
And with that, she departed, leaving Maximus alone in the dim glow of the map. He stood still for a long moment, staring at the Unknown Regions pulsing in faint light, a horizon forever out of reach.
Then, with a sweep of his hand, he turned it off, and strode towards his armor.
===
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