Chapter 371: What Do You Mean, Go to the Maelstrom to Pick Up the Lamenters?
For the Phalanx, after agreeing to the Dark Angels' intervention, the Chaos threat on board was quelled.
Even the appearance of the daemon portal didn't cause any environmental issues on the Phalanx; overall warp readings even began to decrease. The Wardens of Steel, relying on their superior technological reserves, even maintained some areas abandoned due to disrepair—
Teaching the Imperial Fists Techmarines hand-in-hand.
Although due to the Phalanx's sheer size, this level of repair only restored basic functions in some sectors.
For this massive ship born in the Dark Age of Technology, with a radius of 2,300 kilometers yet never showing its true functions, restoring operational status to security systems and automated devices could hardly be called a repair, but it was better than nothing.
Rarely, the Imperial Fists, discriminated against by the High Lords due to their Astartes identity and having little communication with other Astartes due to being on Terra, finally felt what leadership care meant.
But the shame and torment behind this series of victories were unacceptable to the current Imperial Fists.
Leaving aside the interrogation of the Soul Drinkers and siding with outsiders, such a terrifying Chaos corruption appeared on the Phalanx left to them by Rogal Dorn, and they, as the Phalanx Guard, never discovered it...
This made them look like clowns for rushing to the Ultima Segmentum to interrogate the Soul Drinkers.
Coupled with the revelation of a series of secrets at the Feast of Blades and the public disclosure of the Chapter's past shame, these resilient warriors were under unprecedented psychological pressure.
"This is..."
When Ramesses and Arthur, having obtained Lysander's permission, toured the Phalanx to scan its technology and passed a training ground, they saw a bizarre scene.
A Phalanx Warder brother was using the Pain Glove.
Stripped of his armor, input ports on the black carapace on his chest connected to bundles of cables hanging from the ceiling. The Pain Glove itself was like some strange mollusk, a lumpy mucus membrane covering the warrior from neck to ankles.
It writhed on his skin, seeming to determine where to inflict the most extreme pain on the enveloped warrior.
Ramesses immediately looked disgusted.
The accompanying Phalanx Warder was accustomed to it.
If not for the duty of guiding the Primarchs on the tour, he would have put on the Pain Glove to reflect on himself properly.
Too shameful!
"These Imperial Fists have the potential to fall to Slaanesh," Ramesses sighed in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"Still different," Arthur shook his head.
"The Imperial Fists use the Pain Glove to reflect on their mistakes through pain, concentrating their minds to think, making their spirits tougher under the grinding of pain, unlike the Slaaneshi faction relying on pain for pleasure."
And honestly, having contacted many Slaaneshi followers by now, except for god-men like Fulgrim who were in a state of lucid depravity and truly transformed, other Slaaneshi followers, stripping away the sensory filter, probably couldn't last a minute in front of the Pain Glove.
"But ultimately, it's a bad habit."
Arthur also felt that the existence of this tradition was problematic.
Whether it was scavengers struggling at the bottom of the hive or Imperial Fists trying to wash away shame with pain now, reality pushed them too hard.
If not for the omnipresent pressure, why would these Astartes rely on such extreme ways to train themselves?
But change could only come slowly.
"I hope the Imperial Fists can establish offices in the five special administrative regions later."
When Lysander, a battle-hardened warrior full of glory, left the meeting room with a pained expression, Arthur came to him.
The Lord of Knights suggested to him: "Although the Imperial Fists still retain the tradition of the Feast of Blades, communication with other Chapters and Imperial factions is too weak."
In the past, Dorn pursued isolationism, wary of any Legion, not allowing the Imperial Fists to intervene too much in affairs with Astartes, because the Imperial Fists themselves could isolate everyone.
In the post-Heresy era, whether it was the newly formed High Lords or the budding Inquisition, their power source came from the authority of the Praetorians of Terra; whatever they did, they had to look at the Imperial Fists' face.
But with the end of the War of the Beast and the death of Thane who rebuilt the Chapter, the Imperial Fists gradually turned from Praetorians of Terra who could influence the appointment and dismissal of High Lords into an ordinary Chapter.
The loss of Chapter history made them lose leverage to threaten the High Lords, and a series of passed bills made these politically insensitive stones unable to parry.
Even the fortress-monastery on the surface of Terra no longer belonged to them. Except for recruitment periods, the Imperial Fists could only fulfill the duties of Praetorians of Terra on an orbital satellite of Terra.
In the current 41st Millennium, the power between them was completely asymmetrical, and the existence of the Imperial Fists shifted from substantial significance to symbolic significance.
"But Lord Arthur, we—"
Lysander was ashamed of their origins and recent actions.
"Some things are not problems once brought up," Arthur shook his head.
"This matter is not leverage against you, but taking it out now and handing it to us to define is also showing our attitude to the outside world."
The Imperial Fists' past had problems, but it didn't mean Lysander and the others were traitors. What Arthur and the others had to do was to make everyone correctly recognize that history, rather than letting these histories become chips for various Imperial departments to attack each other.
Arthur also knew that in the past, the reason these Chapters kept secrets was naturally that there was no existence with enough weight to define this matter. Exposure would have no effect other than intensifying conflicts between various Imperial departments and adding trouble to themselves.
But now, hasn't someone with enough weight arrived?
"..."
Lysander was silent, looking up at the Lord of Knights.
He hurriedly withdrew his gaze.
Dorn above, please forgive my wavering.
He shook his head hurriedly, then accepted the order.
"I will communicate with the Chapter Master. The Imperial Fists will actively integrate into the construction of the Dawnbreakers' system in the future."
"For humanity," Arthur reached out and patted Lysander on the shoulder.
"For humanity!"
The revitalized First Captain of the Imperial Fists quickly took his leave.
"Sometimes I really think you care too much about these Astartes," Ramesses couldn't help but tease from the side. "Even a mother wouldn't go this far."
"My existence is to maintain the stability of the entire military system," Arthur shook his head; this was what he should do.
"Old Ro and Karna mobilized grassroots power through scientific management and faith. I must ensure these forces supported by countless civilians play their due role, worthy of the sacrifice and dedication of countless humans, instead of letting military units fall into endless internal friction. This is one of the meanings of my existence."
Thump~ Thump-thump~
A Custodian passing by unexpectedly, intending to see what these Astartes were planning, heard this, turned around, and walked out.
"Hahaha~"
Ramesses laughed unreservedly.
The Custodian's departing steps became faster.
"What now?"
He asked again.
Although Romulus arranged a lot of work for him, at least his realspace self was relatively free.
No clue about the power of Ynnead, the Laughing God was still struggling whether to betray his brothers, and daily life was just fishing in the warp and conducting a series of tests.
"Go to the Maelstrom to pick up the Lamenters and Carcharodons," Arthur replied, turning around, preparing to leave the Iron Blood.
They entered the Ultima Segmentum ahead of the Dawnbreaker Fleet main force. There was still some time before the main fleet returned to the Dawnstar Sector.
The Black Templars and other successor Chapters would go too. The Feast of Blades would be held there. The Iron Blood would undergo repairs at the Forge World Mars near Dawnstar, while reserving technology for building Gloriana-class ships in the future.
At the same time, this captured Gloriana-class ship, at Helbrecht's proactive suggestion, would be supplied to members of the Shattered Legions as an active flagship in the future.
"Wait?"
Ramesses tilted his head.
"I remember they went to the Ghoul Stars in the northeast corner of the galaxy, right? How could they appear in the Maelstrom?"
"...You have to ask the Lamenters about that."
Arthur was also speechless when he first received the news.
"Lost in the warp?"
Ramesses guessed what happened in an instant.
"No wonder I couldn't contact Kahurangi. I thought he was dead."
"Correct."
Arthur nodded, confirming his partner's guess.
"Fuck!"
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