- WITH BAYONET, FOLLOW ME!!! - I roared, I screamed at the top of my lungs, raising the broken infantry battalion to attack.
Once again, grey men stood with green youths to do their duty and protect what little they had been given in mortal life. The enemy could take life, but not the will to win.
My legs still ached and only the crystal frame somehow held the bones together, allowing me to fulfill my duty as a nobleman and lead the soldiers into the very hell. None of them asked why I looked so strange and why my hair shimmered with a rainbow light, a simple man with a rifle was only concerned about the firmness of his comrade's shoulder and the determination of the enemy. And the latter gave way, because as soon as we rushed into the attack, the space marines made their move.
Without fear and doubt, with coordinated work and incredible tactical skills, they never went ahead and hit as hard as possible. One company, one hundred space marines, in the hell of war, where millions of armies fought, this is just a drop in the ocean. No matter how cool the equipment is, it will not help to survive a massive artillery barrage or a plasma cannon shot. Astartes were not invulnerable and omnipotent, but if they were in the right place, at the right time ... the enemy was torn to shreds.
And so it was this time. Using their advantage in firepower and speed, they isolated the enemy's very location and broke through the defense with one decisive blow. Acting as a single organism, they sowed chaos in the enemy's rear, and the enemies in front of us did not know what to do, because we were already on the attack, while precise single shots of bolters were heard behind us.
An explosion and the machine gunner and the pillbox were blown to pieces by a plasma grenade. Taking occasional shots to the chest and stepping over comrades, we flew into the trench again, plunging bayonets with unprecedented fury. Each blow was revenge for each fallen brother. Death was the price for death here and no other currency was used.
I lost my ancestral blade, but the artillery sabre I found on the battlefield was no worse. Yes, it was less colorful, but due to its shape and weight it cut like crazy. I could even take most of the shots on my chest, where the crystal grew in growths and shattered into dust after even one hit. It was very painful, and my only arm and legs were less well protected, which is why my wounds only multiplied. But it was unlikely that anyone cared.
- MERCY!!! - the xenos screamed in an unknown language, but it was too late and my saber fell right between the neck and shoulder, reaching an important artery.
I didn't understand the xenos' anatomy, but a fair amount of strangely colored blood flowed, because the nutrients had to be delivered to the brain somehow. And with this blow the battle ended, the extermination began, because no one took prisoners. The Astartes also made sure that all the enemies were destroyed. This cruelty had both personal and objective motives, because among the attacking enemies there were people, with some mutations or not, but people.
"Another victory snatched from the enemy's throat," the Primarch said as the Camelot commanders gathered around the ruins of the enemy headquarters. "But thanks to courage and skill, we paid a much lower price than expected."
The entire army looked with incredible awe at the warriors who seemed to have come from fairy tales. It was no other way than Arthur himself had come from Avalon and brought heroes with him to protect Alba in such a dark hour. And it was understandable, because the Primarch himself towered over everyone like a god of war, that each Space Marine was the greatest warrior and even the weakest of the Astartes would have no trouble destroying the strongest warrior of Alba.
Their power armour was the pinnacle of perfection, their bolters were a byword for power and reliability, and their tactical skill and mastery spoke of the hundreds and thousands of battles these legionaries had fought in infernos where mere mortals would not have been able to survive. They had dispersed the storm in the warp, killed the Daemon Prince and crushed the Rangdan forces that had landed in this area.
"I suppose I should say something inspiring..." the Primarch chuckled and removed his helmet, revealing a stern, pale face with a rather terrible scar that even the best Apothecaries of the Legion could not heal. "Yeah, I knew I should have asked the Word Bearers for help, but they talked me out of it..."
There was a pause, everyone was waiting for something and hoping for something, and the Primarch continued to stand and choose his words. And although his charisma left much to be desired, having won a crushing victory, he had already won the hearts of all the defenders. There was no need for words, and no matter what he said, this knightly world would still swear allegiance to the Imperium, like hundreds of others who had survived the dark times.
— My name is Moiran, I am the Primarch of the Eleventh Legion, the "Fatebringers"! The Age of Strife has come to an end and by the will of the Emperor of Mankind, my father, the Beloved Lord of All and the greatest of men, I fight alongside my brothers in the Great Crusade to unite the galaxy and lead humanity to the dawn! Many worlds have already become part of the Imperium, one by one we crush our enemies together with other Knightly Houses that, like you, have passed through the darkness, maintaining purity of mind in the gloom, full of darkness and temptations! And I invite you to join us! Together, neither xenos nor daemon can stop us, for as long as humanity is united, it is invincible!
Moiran experienced incredible favor at that moment, surprised by the joy with which this world accepted him. The knights, though, kept a mysterious silence, but only because they were awaiting the decision of their overlord, Galahad, who had already conveyed his consent to unite and only needed a personal meeting to discuss the further strategy of the war.
This was also necessary for Moiran himself, on whose shoulders lay not only the conquest of worlds, but also the duty of effectively introducing them into the Imperium. Although with the Knight Worlds everything was always simple, because thanks to their conservatism they understood better than others the value and necessity of the Imperial Truths. So the meeting did not take long to come, but what surprised me even more was the personal attention of the primarch.
While he was at the meeting, one of the Space Marines took me to the landing zone, where the Excertus Imperialis, aka the Imperial Army, the main armed forces of the early Imperium, from which the well-known Imperial Guard was formed, was in full swing. The Imperial Army included both ground and air forces, but what distinguished it most from the Imperial Guard was the presence of its own space forces.
And only thanks to the millions and billions of these soldiers, the Great Crusade did not get bogged down, not having time to retreat to Terra. There were twenty Legions, but in the vast galaxy they could not be everywhere in time, and the Imperial Army joined the campaign. While the formidable Astartes went forward, ordinary soldiers also strengthened the garrisons, keeping order on the captured world. And even Malcador the Sigillite himself was guarded not by magnificent Space Marines, but by the chosen soldiers of the Imperial Army.
But to understand how enormous the Imperial Army's contribution to the Great Crusade as a whole was, one must know one thing - there were so many of them that no one could count their numbers. After all, it included even the militias of the captured worlds, and if an average planet with a hundred million population and industrial development could easily afford a garrison of a million soldiers, and in case of war mobilize all ten, after which send everyone under arms and raise the bar to twenty... the Imperial Army was truly enormous, and its hierarchy was complex and confusing, which caused justified concerns on Terra.
However, the Crusade moved relentlessly and the Imperial Army continued to grow to maintain the momentum the Empire needed.
"Am I some kind of guinea pig?" I asked, sitting in a field hospital while mere mortals ran around me, collecting data from devices.
"No," the space marine, who was also carefully studying the collected data, answered curtly.
- And you won't execute me?
- No.
- And you know that I am a sorcerer.
— Yes.
There was a certain aura of hostility around this Space Marine. So formidable and strong, he also had a stronger mind, which gave him an advantage in almost everything compared to a mere mortal. And because of this, some Space Marines developed a certain disdainful attitude towards ordinary soldiers. Astartes never ran, and regiments sometimes had to be returned to battle by force. If the Astartes were given a task, then the task would be completed, and mortals often made mistakes. As in general, ordinary mortals were weak.
Although it is not worth thinking that all space marines were like that. After all, a lot depended both on the legion itself, where the most effective way to achieve the goal was seen differently, and on the space marine as a whole, who was determined by his personal experience. Of course, they were made first and foremost soldiers who would simply follow orders, but even in the harsh discipline of one company, the characters of these supermen differed.
One way or another, for some reason they weren't going to execute me on the spot and even provided medical assistance. Along the way, they took a strange crystal for study. An hour passed, then another, and at some point the space marine left to solve more important issues, leaving me to the hospital staff. And everything would have been fine, but soon the captain of the first company visited me.
"Moiran pleaded for you," said the captain, bald, with a powerful jaw, a creepy look, and an augmented eye. "You were pardoned, your title, lands, and glorious name were returned."
- I already have a name, Mordred. It suits me. What happened to Kara?
- You are free to choose your own name. As for Kara, I don't know who that is. Someone close to you?
- My maid, she was in the palace when it all started. I don't know if she survived.
"We'll find out," the space marine nodded, and then sat down on a steel box with medicines, staring at me.
The entire staff immediately left, having understood the hint. Apparently, this was not the first time something like this had happened, and there were no random people among these workers.
- You fought bravely, but more importantly, you used the warp to achieve your victory.
- Yes, I think I...
- It seems your soul has also become a vessel for the essence of the warp. However, you are not mad and you hold control in your own hands. Tell me everything, but do not try to lie.
- That's it? You won't even believe half of it, immediately branding me a madman and smashing my skull with one blow. If you want to interrogate me, then go straight to torture, - I waved it off, realizing that I most likely wouldn't survive the conversation.
And probably at some point the captain of the first company of the Fatebringers really had such a thought. However, he did not show it, moreover, he simply nodded, not pressing.
- It is your right. I will not judge you, nor will I pass any sentence or torture you. However, if you want to serve Humanity, then you should do everything to extend this term. Even the most experienced psykers become food for the creatures living in the warp, entire ships disappear and sometimes even demigods can make mistakes.
- So you won't kill me?
- You will be asked to fight in our ranks. You have proven yourself in battle, and although your control of the Knight was clearly not distinguished by skill, what you did with this ancient machine... we have never seen anything like it. Perhaps in this lies a new opportunity for Humanity. In any case, only you determine your fate, but consider ... - the space marine rose to his feet and suddenly darkness fell on his face. - For ourselves, we decide it ourselves. And our decision will depend on whether you bring benefit or harm to the Imperium.
The captain was already heading for the exit when suddenly a light started blinking in his helmet, which he was carrying under his arm. Returning the helmet to his head, he received the message and responded, after which he activated the external speaker and said it to me.
— The meeting is over. The military campaign to destroy Rangda and her allies will continue. Galahad also said that he allows you to decide for yourself how exactly you will serve the Imperium, which includes Camelot, and soon the entire world. And Moiran wants to talk to you.
- With me? Why?
- I don't know and I'm not interested. A war awaits me, where I will create a destiny for my enemies. Come to the palace of Camelot.
And the captain left, and I just sighed. If the primarch wanted to talk to me, it could only mean one thing. I somehow interested him. And how could he be interested in a mere mortal? Well, I wanted to believe that it was just that I managed to survive the fight of the daemon prince and also desecrated the Knight, without falling into the power of chaos... but something told me that Moiran understood much more and perhaps somehow sensed Tzeentch? The latter, by the way, went quiet, not helping me at all, as if he was afraid to appear and get caught.
And if psykers served for the good of the Imperium in one way or another, because without them space travel would be much more complicated, and the Emperor himself was a psyker, as were some primarchs, some astartes, just many servants of the Imperium and in general everyone knew about the warp, because there were Geller Fields that protected from warp energy and demons during jumps between systems. But still, this is all different, and as soon as they suspect me of having ties to Tzeentch...
"God, I don't want to die…" I sighed and suddenly even thought about trying to escape.
But this was a bad idea. Escaping from the Space Marines was hardly possible, and where to run? Towards Rangda or deep into the Imperium? They would find me there and there, because there were probably special services that deal with such uncontrolled psykers. Maybe some kind of Inquisition, although judging by the fact that there was the Imperial Army instead of the Imperial Guard, I was inclined to believe that the Inquisition might not even exist. And in general, having briefly listened to the conversations of the staff, I realized that it was the thirtieth millennium according to the Terran calendar.
In general, it is not clear at all, but it is very interesting how exactly I will die. And the ways to die after these events became much more. One way or another, soon I returned to Camelot, came to the palace, was accompanied by Galahad's guard to the primarch, who decided to visit the library, treasury and armory first of all. The primarch himself decided not to take personal part in the battle this time, arguing that his sons also need to gain experience.
"What magnificent sculptures, what a pity that half the palace has turned into ruins," the voice of the primarch was heard, admiring the masterpieces of Camelot. "Do you know what distinguishes a man from an animal?"
- Morality, ethics and culture? - I decided to guess, trying to connect the obvious facts.
"The ability to make choices," Moiran replied, and then continued to slowly walk around the hall, moving towards the ancient tapestries on which he recognized the era of colonization and the uprising of the machines. "Yes, how many times has humanity been on the brink of destruction? And how many other species have failed? They made their choice and saw the fate they created themselves. Ah, I miss talking to Fulgrim. He may be a character, but thanks to him, I can now see the world through the prism of art. Who knows, maybe one day we will even find a common language with him. At least Ferrus is doing everything he can to bring that time closer and influence Fulgrim for the better. And vice versa.
- Why did you order me to appear?
— I only give orders in war. And no need to "you", we are all servants of the Emperor and we all serve for the good of Mankind. The structure of my legion is simple and does not require ass-kissing. As with my allies, I expect critical thinking, not pious awe. I am not a demigod, I have already made mistakes and can make mistakes again. And who, if not my comrades, will stop me from making another mistake? In an argument, the Truth was born, the light of which I saw.
- And yet I still haven't received an answer.
- I didn't receive it, because I'm still thinking about what happened and what to tell you. I hope you're thinking about the same thing now.
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