Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 468: Oath of Wolf Blood
After the fall of our Primarch Horus Lupercal, an atmosphere of mourning lingered aboard our flagship.

The Astartes I saw during the day were still carrying out their usual tasks, walking on their fixed tracks, like they were tin soldiers dancing in a music box. As long as the Empire kept turning those springs, they would move endlessly on the same track: leaving on transport ships from one short-distance battle after another, reappearing in a hangar with slightly burnt walls after a period of real time, raising their arms to make the Skyhawk gesture and then putting them down, returning to the compartment to maintain their bodies for a while, waiting for the next collective action.

These metaphors were written by my memoirist companion, and since Lupercal fell, the fun in his words has been restrained too much. The sleep of Lord Horus has caused a certain temperament in us to fall into a long silence. I think I haven't heard real laughter for a long time, the kind of excessive, hearty laughter that needs to be scolded by officers, and the unrestricted playfulness and the marks of friendship left on faces.

I never actually witnessed one of these, Mesati said they were amazing, and Carl Casey said they scratched and clawed.

I heard that even the servitors were no longer assigned cleaning duties, no longer needing to apply cleaning foam on the top of their right tentacles, and holding buckets and synthetic fiber cloths on the left. Is this true? In any case, I think it is unlikely that I will have the opportunity to see the lights of the arena turn on again until Master Horus wakes up.

All these circumstances were not good news for me, and it was in this way that the influence of Lord Horus's "temporary departure" - we are now using this gentle term, as if the power of words could touch reality - directly and heavily and irresistibly enveloped me.

Because I am not keen on war, and I am not good at depicting war.

I was brought to the Vengeful Spirit more than a hundred years ago because I forged a reliquary they required under the orders (or should I say orders? I prefer orders because I was paid, and twice as much) of the 10th Legion Iron Hands. My skills amazed the commander, and I am extremely grateful to the Iron Hands for giving me this opportunity.

One day two extraordinary mortals knocked on my door in Terra, one in black robes and the other with white hair. When I opened the door, they were arguing about whether I should join the Fourth Legion or the Sixteenth Legion. I chose the latter.

The reason was absurd, I had confused the Iron Warriors with the Iron Hands, and decided to go to the Luna Wolves to find inspiration I had never met. But even though I figured it out quickly, I never regretted it - wanting to visit other Legions was another matter entirely, and I couldn't deny how much I wanted to visit the Great Pyramid of Prospero.

I appreciate the atmosphere of the Vengeful Spirit, even though I know we were never one of them.

But all this ended after Lord Horus was assassinated.

The Moon Wolf lost its leader, or rather, its god. It was like a knot in a complex rope that suddenly burned through, and the remaining knots were all on the verge of unraveling.

The era of intimacy is over, and the bond between wolves has become as thin as a hair. Perhaps the Luna Wolves are only one step away from falling apart, and the awakening of Master Horus is still an infinite distance away. At this time, war has become the most effective means to keep the 16th Legion together as a whole.

In these days, there is only war.

It was at this time that a noble warrior found me in the design room of the Vengeful Spirit. His face was broad and his features were stretched. He was similar to Lord Horus in both appearance and spirit, and both possessed a classical elegance. That kind of vague solemnity solidified this face, turning him from a handsome stone sculpture into a lifelike stone sculpture.

Hastur Sejanus, Crescent of the Council of Four Kings. I am flattered by his presence.

He came here with a commission, I'm not sure if it was an order or an order, because I told him in advance that I would not ask for any reward, just as a consolation gift in this special season. Besides, I told him that in the Soul of Vengeance, there is no need for money to trade.

He smiled at me, and even though I had lived with them for more than a hundred years, I was still honored by this fleeting, shadowy smile. Cyjanus told me that he needed five rings, with themes of the moon, namely the new moon, half moon, gibbous moon and full moon, and the fifth ring was for the moonless night.

I think I know who all of these rings will go to, except for the fifth. I hesitate between Malohurst the Twister and a few other famous generals, unsure of who Cyjanus has in mind. I wish I could be sure of this. Personality. Temperament. The silver ring I designed must be tailor-made to match the hand it will go to.

When Sejanus came the second time, I summoned up the courage to ask him. Unexpectedly, he sat down beside me—still as huge as ever, towering over me like a mountain on a satellite. A faint smell of some kind of cleaning agent was faintly emanating from him. I realized that he had just returned from a war.

A war against what? I wondered, those restless people? Those fanatics who had given their brains away?
No, in fact, they are all the same. Everyone will definitely place their pride on something, perhaps a creation of their own, or perhaps an idea that they are proud of. This is just like a creed. Whatever you place your thoughts on is your own choice.

Cyjanus said the fifth ring belonged to Garviel Loken. Although Horus Lupercal was far away on Terra, the Luna Wolves could not be separated. All work still needed to continue, and all facilities were still in operation. The wolf shepherd who returned must be welcomed by a thriving wolf pack that still had the faith to shout to the moon.

The fifth person on the Shadowmoon Council is a new decision. An unusual reform. An inspiring symbol.

And they do need a companion who can maintain a calm vision in the chaos and accompany them to continue to fulfill their fighting oath.

This is a good thing, Sejanus never lacked the courage and vision to take the first step. But for some reason, I felt a pang of sadness as I listened to him.

The fact that Horus Lupercal was asleep struck me a second time, this time more fiercely, like a rushing river under the moon, splashing down on my head, the water hitting me like a piece of pale iron. I thanked Sejanus for telling me, and when I said goodbye to him, I felt that he was more disappointed than I was.

I think it's because he is taking on the responsibilities of the legion leader alone. Yes, that's what he is doing. And a mortal may be no different from an automatic recorder to them, and talking to a living person is not as stupid as talking to yourself in front of a recorder. The Memory Envoy is a compromise choice, and he happens to have a commission to give to me.

When I was drawing the blueprint, I kept thinking about how to arrange each pattern to make them fit the needs of Cyjanus and the Shadow Moon Council. This is a half-memorial meeting, so I won't arrange the emblems too fancy. But it can't be too plain, otherwise everything will no longer be unique.

The third time Cyanos came to me, I told him shamelessly that the molds were not available recently and I couldn't even get a batch of samples. He told me it was okay, and after a while he asked if I was interested in designing something simpler.

"We decided to promote the association system," he said, shrugging wistfully, "to consolidate our internal camaraderie. The tactical characteristics of the Luna Wolves are suitable for the development of the association, and a single individual is not enough to withstand the current storms in the empire. The Warrior Association needs a more universal symbol so that each of us can belong. Do you have any opinion?"

I came up with lots of ideas, we talked about shoulder pads, badges, sigil, epaulettes, cuffs, necklaces, rings.

"What about the coin?" I said. "It has a moon on the front and a wolf's head on the back."

"why?"

"In the mythology of my hometown, each of us needs a coin to give to the boatman to cross the river of sorrow."

Sejanus smiled, a small smile, his eyes sparkling.

"Please," he said.

A river of sorrow. As I spoke these words, I happened to think of the Word Bearers.

I can't blame you for that. The Word Bearers have become so well-known in the universe that even someone like me who doesn't know what's going on outside the porthole knows how much the events of Nikaea have caused in the galaxy. They're a bunch of sad lunatics, we all say.

Especially those who hold the truth, those who hold the truth with unpredictable minds.

He was the first person to support Perturabo's ascension to the position of Warmaster, the first person to oppose Perturabo, and the first person to be placed under house arrest by Perturabo using his authority as Warmaster.

This contrast of ups and downs was promoted by the Imperial propaganda machine, and this kind of conflict, which contains countless secrets, is what people like to talk about in the tavern after a day's work. When one of my fellow memoirists held up the Holy Word and told me that she also opposed the revision of the Imperial Truth, I looked at her in horror, wondering how she could say such a thing. "Aurelian punished himself with molten armor," she said. "Many of us believe that this is his repentance for promoting Perturabo."

"I'm not one of many of you," I said bitterly. I don't like to think too much about the implications. "Besides, I like Perturabo. He's the ultimate goal for us design craftsmen. So you'd better not criticize him in front of me, otherwise I'll say it's a waste for Lorgar Aurelion to burn so many precious old night relics."

She held back the rest of her words. She was actually very easy to talk to when the Holy Word was not mentioned.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but couldn't help thinking - even a memoirist holds such a view.

The coins for the Warriors were designed very quickly. Because this was required for mass production, I simplified the heraldry marks, which made everything much easier. The mold factory sent a sample of the coin, which was about the size of a Space Marine's knuckle. The heraldry was clearly engraved, and its toughness and hardness were also commendable.

I waited for Cyjanus to come to me next so I could tell him I had completed his commission.

He never came, and my anticipation slowly turned to worry. I found myself fearing that Crescent of the Shadow Moon Council had died in some unknown battle, as sometimes happens.

Or, we all know that the recent subspace environment is not peaceful, with storms all around, navigators frequently sending feedback that the road ahead is unclear, and astropaths screaming and blowing their heads off. The solar star field is completely wrapped in a chaotic force field, except for the Word Bearers who are fearlessly rushing in.

Yes, they recently ran away from the Iron Warriors, moving at an incredible speed, covering a warp route that would have taken months in a matter of weeks. It was a religious miracle.

You can imagine how angry the Fourth Legion was.

In short, I hope that Cyjanus has not crashed because of this. It would be such a pity and would make me suddenly feel that the world has no meaning.

Privately, I am a staunch believer in the Imperial Truth. This doesn't mean that I don't believe in the existence of psychic power, but that I believe that above all else, there is no supreme will that exists in all things. Our destiny is not controlled by an absolute existence. As for those powerful lives, they are just lives that we don't understand.

The ancient Terran sage said - it seems like heresy, perhaps - the ancient Terran sage said that if God does not exist, then everything is permitted.

Therefore, our behavior no longer has fate as an excuse, and we cannot say that this is God's will to explain our actions. People who do good may not necessarily have a good ending, and people who abide by morality may not necessarily be rewarded. Without God to guarantee these things, the world just exists.

Despite this, I still paradoxically hope that Sejanus can get a result worthy of his efforts. If God can really guarantee that good deeds will be rewarded, then let him do it. I thought pessimistically.

"That was a mistake," Carcassi said as we chatted. "The Master of the Fourth Legion should not be Warmaster."

"Watch your words. Even if you think this position belongs to Master Horus..."

"No, you're wrong. I just think this position shouldn't exist. The Terra Council is rising, the center of power in the empire is shifting, and the political focus is shifting from violence to economy and internal administration. At this time, a single warlord is given the power of a million troops..."

"You should go post your limericks at the gate of the palace so that we don't have to listen to you talking about everything here."

"Because my insights will elevate me?"

"Because your eloquence will put your head on the tip of the Custodians' spears."

"No, let's think about it. The great Emperor didn't even divide up duties and responsibilities. Except for one sentence, the Warmaster will be the leader of all the legions... This is the entire letter of appointment. Look, they give authorization to the planetary governor and also attach 800 pages of documents and regulations..."

"I think you've had too much to drink," Euphrates said. "I really have."

“But here it comes,” I said. “This is where it comes to.”

It was at this moment that the world began to shake, the lights on the ceiling went out in an instant, and a howling of anger and strong hatred suddenly surged from the bottom of the world, as if with a loud bang, a black light exploded brightly in front of my eyes, taking away everything I could think about. I rolled to the ground, terrified.

Did the Spirit of Vengeance hit an asteroid? Or has the world finally ended?

Soon after, the lights came back on, and the radio told us to calm down. A violent storm had just erupted in the warp, which had some impact on the real universe, but everything was recovering quickly. Don't worry, believe in the power of the Emperor. And so on.

I should have been relieved when Cyjanus found me for the last time, but his expression made me tense up. Distraught, incredulous. If those were words that could be applied to a Space Marine without being considered blasphemous.

I handed him the five rings. He thanked me, but his expression was absent-minded, which made me feel unfulfilled.

When I handed them to him, he was visibly more interested, lifting one and rubbing it between his fingers, observing its texture.

"We originally decided to use this coin to assist in our battle oath," said Sejanus. "One drop of blood on the moon represents moonlike purity; one drop of blood on the wolf's head represents conquest and destruction."

"Oh, good..." I didn't know how to respond. "Would you like to give it a try next time?"

He was silent for a moment. "Of course," he said.

"Are you going to war again?"

"Correct."

"Is there another pacification operation needed?"

"Yes... and no. We finally contacted Terra and got a new order."

I didn't dare ask what it was, but fortunately, Sejanus spoke up himself.

"Prospero," he said tremblingly, "Terra has announced that Magnus has betrayed the Imperium of Man and destroyed any hope for the throne. Next, our target will be Prospero."

(End of this chapter)