After the ceremony, Leo was taken to a familiar room. It was the office Raynor had used during his time at the Forbidden Wall.
Leo changed back into his Brevis PDF General uniform. It was the same attire, but wearing it now felt entirely different. The former air of noble refinement had diminished, replaced by a weathered, battle-hardened steadiness. He stood by the window, gazing out at the Forbidden Wall.
The door opened. Guss walked in, carrying two cups of tea. He placed one on the table and sat on the sofa with the other.
"Sit."
Leo turned around and sat opposite him. Guss took a sip of tea and spoke:
"Luna Saint Gallus has officially taken control of the family's power. She has the support of the Mechanicus, most of the Paladins, and the Knight Auxiliaries."
Leo's eyes dimmed for a moment. He knew what this meant; he had lost his family. The house that had raised him, the legacy he took pride in, no longer belonged to him. Unlike other flighty noble youths, he didn't think his pedigree limited him. He understood clearly that without this halo, he was just an ordinary commander, or perhaps even just a common guardsman. The pain of this loss was impossible to ignore.
Guss watched his expression and set down his teacup. "But rest assured, the Governor said that as long as he isn't here, the primary command of the Forbidden Wall remains in your hands."
Leo looked up. "Thank you." His voice was sincere, but the sense of displacement remained. Having lost his greatest harbor, he found it difficult to feel truly happy.
Guss stood up, walked to his side, and patted his shoulder. "What if," he stared into Leo's eyes, "there was a chance to put House Saint Gallus back on the right track? Would you take it?"
Leo's pupils contracted sharply. He stared at Guss without speaking, but the longing in his eyes was almost overflowing.
Guss nodded, sensing Leo's desire. "Luna and the Mechanicus do control the majority of the Knights and the family's armed forces. But under your grandfather's long reign, many people do not recognize her—older Paladins, the vassal regiments loyal to them, and those who despise the Mechanicus interfering in family affairs."
He took another sip of tea. "They are all waiting for someone. Someone with enough 'standing.' Someone who can go back to lead them and restore the family to its proper path."
Leo understood.
"The Lord Governor also said," Guss smiled, "that if you want to prove who is the true legitimate successor, then settle it at Saint Gallus Castle. Whoever wins is the legitimate one."
Leo fell silent, thinking. Doing this would damage the family's foundation. A conflict between two factions, regardless of the winner, would cause irreversible harm. But it was better than letting the family be ruined in Luna's hands—a woman corrupted by Chaos, colluding with the Mechanicus to trade the STC for forbidden knowledge. If she continued to rule, Saint Gallus would eventually become a true traitor.
Leo only hesitated for a quarter of a second. He stood up, walked to the window, and looked toward the distant Saint Gallus Castle. That castle was where he had grown up; it was his home.
He spoke, his voice low but carrying the weight of a firm resolution: "My father often said..."
Guss listened intently.
"A Knight should die on the battlefield, wrapped in horsehide; that is honor." Leo turned around. There was no more hesitation or loss in his eyes, only a burning fire. "Who could have predicted he would fall to the schemes of cowards? The family no longer has a place for me."
He set his teacup down, the impact vibrating through the table. "I might as well play the tiger against the wolf."
He stopped in front of Guss and clenched his fist. "When I rise again, I shall make..."
Guss looked at that hand, then at Leo's face. The noble air had completely vanished, replaced by a heroic spirit Guss had never seen before.
"...the heroes of the world bow their heads!"
Even with the upheaval at the Forbidden Wall, the Orks in Brevis failed to cause significant trouble. Scattered Ork forces remained across the ice fields, ranging from a few hundred to a few thousand, still wandering in search of a fight.
But every time they showed their heads, they were targeted by Wildling cavalry appearing out of nowhere. These Wildlings strictly followed the task Raynor had assigned them: locating Ork remnants, marking positions, and finally bringing Frost Priests to summon the Frost Soldiers.
The Frost Soldiers emerged from the "Ice Lotuses," launching fierce attacks on the green pathogens like white blood cells. There was no suspense, only a one-sided slaughter.
Raynor occasionally checked the battle footage through Sarah's link. The coordination of the Frost Soldiers grew more seamless, and their tactics more efficient. This was thanks to the Tyranids' unique memory recovery capability. If Sarah wished, she could receive the combat experiences of every individual Tyranid. Through countless practical encounters, the swarm could continuously refine the fighting style that suited them best.
Sometimes Raynor even felt that these creations, bred from Tyranid genes, were the ideal army. No fear, no hesitation—only absolute obedience to orders.
Through these constant battles and biomass recovery, Sarah's favorability finally broke seventy.
On an ordinary night, Raynor was reviewing documents in the Governor's Mansion office. Each stack was at least a meter high. Glancing at the mountain of paperwork, he rubbed his brow and continued his hard work.
"Isud" sat in the corner, quietly flipping through a tome borrowed from the Ecclesiarchy. She had recently developed an interest in history and culture, especially ancient texts with religious undertones. The mini-ripper curled up in Raynor's sleeve, showing only a pair of tiny compound eyes as it napped lazily.
Suddenly, Raynor felt something transmitted from the ripper, as gentle as a feather brushing the surface of water. He looked down at the little creature in his sleeve. The ripper's compound eyes were open, looking at him. Those eyes seemed different again.
"Sarah?" he thought.
"Mmh," the cool female voice responded. "I am here."
Raynor waited for a moment to see if anything had changed. When she hit fifty, Sarah had learned independent thought. At sixty, she began to act more "human," initiating questions and sensing various emotions. But at seventy favorability, there seemed to be no obvious change.
If anything, Sarah felt more human. Her language was more natural, her reactions sharper, and the understanding between her and Raynor had reached a point where they could understand each other without words.
Looking at her, Raynor suddenly remembered something. How long had he known Sarah? From those dark pipes in Necromunda to now, it had been nearly a year. In one year, a Tyranid warrior who knew only consumption and killing had become like this.
He looked down at the tiny ripper. The little creature looked back, its compound eyes bright.
"What are you thinking about?" Sarah asked.
"Thinking about you," Raynor answered honestly.
The ripper's compound eyes squinted, and several pink bubbles appeared over its head. Raynor smiled.
Soon, Raynor found he began to understand Sarah's thinking more deeply. As his mental link with her grew tighter, he could sometimes vaguely perceive what her true thought patterns were behind the simple words and emotions.
It was a massive, cold, efficient gestalt consciousness. Like all Tyranids, the core of Sarah's mind was "Consumption." It was the fundamental meaning of Tyranid existence. Just as humans need to breathe and eat, it wasn't a choice; it was a "must." In that mode of thinking, there was no distinction between good and evil, only efficiency. Consume the weak, evolve the self. It was the same ideology as the Hive Mind.
One could almost describe Sarah's thoughts as "hollow," yet Raynor discovered something different. Deep within those hollow instincts, he perceived something that didn't belong to any Tyranid instinct.
There was only a single name: "Raynor Corvana."
When he perceived that name, his heart felt as if it had been struck hard. It wasn't simple love or dependence; Sarah couldn't yet comprehend such complex human emotions. But it was something far more complex than that.
Raynor looked down at the tiny ripper in his sleeve and those bright compound eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Reaching out, he gently stroked the ripper's head. The little creature rubbed against his finger, letting out a faint, satisfied purr.
"Sarah," he said in his mind.
"Yes?"
"I love you."
Sarah didn't understand the meaning of those three words, but she derived an unprecedented sense of satisfaction from them. Her favorability, which usually required massive amounts of biomass to move even slightly, actually rose by one point because of those three short words.