Lol I'm stupid asf, this chapter was supposed to posted right after 51, it sat in the draft this whole time.
Chapter 52: Proud Soldiers, Difficult Men
The conference did not run long.
Duvette, Kleist, and Volkov concluded the deployment arrangements in as little time as the task allowed. When the three of them walked out of the tent, Kleist's face still carried unmistakable dissatisfaction, but he said nothing further. He gave Duvette a perfunctory salute, turned, and walked away with his adjutant.
Duvette stepped out of the command tent at an unhurried pace and drew a long breath. He looked around. His gaze moved across the orderly rows of tanks and the busy soldiers of the armoured regiment, then stopped at a corner beside the tent.
Anderson, Finn, and the other soldiers were standing there, facing a group of Eisenmark troops.
The atmosphere was tense. No weapons drawn, but both sides were standing straight and the hostility in the expressions was not ambiguous.
Duvette's brow came together. He crossed to them at a quick pace.
"What happened here?" His voice was flat and cold.
Everyone turned toward him and came to attention. The movement was sharp and uniform, but the soldiers of the 101st had anger on their faces, and the Eisenmark soldiers wore expressions that were closed and guarded.
An Eisenmark officer with a captain's rank markings stepped forward. He appeared to be in his early thirties, his face set in severe lines, the jaw held tight.
"Sir," he said, his tone formally correct throughout. "Your men were out of order. They were moving freely through the camp without authorization and attempting to touch our vehicles."
Duvette turned to look at Anderson and Finn.
"Is that what happened?"
Anderson fixed the captain with a stare and produced a low, controlled sound in his throat. "We were looking for somewhere to wait," he said, his voice rough. "Hans," he indicated a young soldier standing beside him, "wanted to get a closer look at one of the Leman Russ as we were walking past. That is all he did. These people surrounded us and started insulting us."
Duvette looked back at the captain. "Is that accurate, Captain?"
The captain's expression did not shift. He remained at attention, posture exact. "I ordered them away from the operational equipment, sir. That is standing procedure."
"Is it," Duvette said. His voice dropped another degree. He turned back to Anderson. "What did they call you?"
Anderson kept his eyes on the captain and said, steadily, "They told us to stay away. Called us rats that rolled around in the mud. Said we had no right and no business getting near their vehicles."
Duvette let out a short, cold sound and returned his gaze to the captain. The man was looking somewhere past Duvette's shoulder, his posture unchanged, still rigidly upright.
Duvette trusted Anderson's account. Anderson was not Stroud. He did not go looking for trouble. And under these circumstances, there was no reason whatsoever for any of them to provoke a well-equipped allied regiment. The insult for the offense of wanting to look at a tank was excessive by any measure.
"Is this how Eisenmark treats its allies?" Duvette asked, each word deliberate. "Is this what your commanding officers have taught you? That this is the appropriate way to address soldiers fighting alongside you?"
The air in front of the tent settled into something very still.
Then a voice arrived from beside Duvette.
"Apologize to them for your insulting language, Captain Ronan."
Commissar Volkov had positioned himself at Duvette's side. His face carried nothing, but the deep grey eyes had fixed on the captain with an authority that did not invite negotiation.
The captain stiffened visibly for a moment. Then he brought his heels together with a crisp sound, turned toward Anderson and the others, and delivered a correct military salute.
"I apologize for the inappropriate language used by myself and my men." His voice was level throughout. "Please accept our apologies for the discourtesy."
He held the salute and waited.
Anderson glanced at Duvette. Duvette gave a minimal nod. Anderson turned back and answered gruffly, "Apology accepted."
On the surface, the confrontation was finished. Volkov dismissed the Eisenmark soldiers with a gesture, and they dispersed immediately, returning to their posts. The 101st soldiers relaxed, though something residual remained in their eyes.
Volkov looked at Duvette and lowered his voice. "I have something I would like to say to you."
Duvette nodded and signaled Anderson and the others to wait by the camp entrance. Once they had gone, Volkov walked with Duvette to a quieter corner nearby.
"Eisenmark soldiers are always like this," Volkov said, with a directness that carried a faint undertone of weariness. "It is not a personal animus toward your men specifically."
Duvette raised an eyebrow.
Volkov continued. "Eisenmark is an extremely traditional feudal world. Even after the Departmento Munitorum and the Adeptus Mechanicus established their tank foundries there, the old noble culture and chivalric tradition carried forward intact. The soldiers selected for the Astra Militarum are the finest the world produces. They regard themselves as knights of iron."
He paused, looking toward the soldiers in the distance, moving between their vehicles with methodical efficiency.
"They have always looked down on regiments like the Ash Watchers 101st. In their view, only soldiers of their discipline and their quality of equipment are truly worthy to serve the Emperor. Other Astra Militarum regiments, by comparison, simply do not measure up."
"Proud soldiers, difficult men," Duvette said.
"Yes." Volkov nodded. "They hold themselves to an extremely demanding standard, and without entirely meaning to, they impose those same demands on everyone around them. Combined with the contempt they carry toward those who fail to meet it, their reputation among other Astra Militarum regiments is not particularly good."
He drew a quiet breath.
"And that reputation is part of what led to this posting. Colonel Kleist's arrogance finally exhausted the Lord General's patience aboard the troopship. The General put them here deliberately, in the rear, so that the regiment would understand that the Imperium's armies could achieve victory without them. For men like these, being assigned to cover a withdrawal is an intentional humiliation."
Duvette nodded. For a regiment that prided itself on being an elite, an assignment to protective duties on the second line was exactly the kind of diminishment that would sit badly.
Volkov gave a quiet sound that was almost a laugh.
"Which is, among other reasons, why I have been with them for several years and they still regard me as an outsider." He looked at Duvette. "In any case, Commissar Duvette. I can see that your soldiers genuinely trust you. I expect I will understand why before long."
Duvette returned a measured smile. "I hope our cooperation ahead goes smoothly."
* * *
Duvette led Anderson and the others back to the 101st's encampment.
The camp was active. Soldiers checking their equipment, counting ammunition, the air carrying the particular quality of tension that preceded an engagement everyone already understood was coming.
Duvette called all of the regiment's officers to the improvised command table. A city defense map was spread across its surface, with defensive positions and ambush points marked in charcoal.
"Dylan." Duvette looked at the acting deputy commander. "Take one company and half the PDF forces. Escort the pilgrim column. Keep them moving north without stopping."
Dylan came to attention. "Yes, Commissar. Stroud has just transmitted a report, however. The northern plain is currently clear."
"I know." Duvette cut him off. "The civilian column still needs protection. If you encounter Ork scout elements, you ensure the column keeps moving. And you make sure nothing as idiotic as what happened in the city occurs out there."
"Understood."
Dylan turned and left to assemble his forces. Duvette looked at the remaining officers and began laying out the specific combat deployments for what was coming.
Evan came into the tent at a run. "Sir. Sister Olivia has sent a communication. She and her sisters intend to remain and fight alongside us."
"They are welcome." Duvette nodded. Combat units of that quality were not a resource to turn away under any circumstances. "Invite Sister Olivia to our tent. We have no time to spare. We need the full deployment settled immediately."
"Yes, sir."
Duvette watched Evan's retreating back and drew a long breath. He had the clear sense this was going to be another hard fight.
But that was the Astra Militarum. Fighting until you were dead, or until you had taken enough trophy worlds to earn a dignified retirement.
He looked at the four hundred Emperor's Wrath his display showed him.
He told himself, without equivocation, that he was going to survive this.