Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

The warriors of the Second Legion exchanged glances, Admidel at their head, and Lin could read the doubt written on their faces.

"What exactly is this thing, that it could bring such grave consequences?"

"A Chapter relic—and no ordinary relic at that. Among those who fought shoulder-to-shoulder with you, wasn't there one they called the Emperor's Champion?"

"By the time we arrived, that Emperor's Champion who had single-handedly held back over a thousand Orks had already fallen." Gradually Admidel overlaid the image of the sword before him with the Black Sword that Bohemond had spoken of reclaiming, and realization dawned on him: "So this is the Black Sword that the Black Templars swore to take back?"

"Correct. This is the most precious relic of the Black Templars. They regard the Emperor as the god of mankind, and only a warrior whom they deem chosen by the Emperor is worthy to bear the Black Sword—the so-called Emperor's Champion."

Lin took the Black Sword and examined it carefully. The feel of it in his hands told him that there was indeed an uncanny psychic force pulsing within the blade: "There are ten such swords in all, which means there can be at most nine Emperor's Champions at any one time. If one of the Black Swords is lost, it means there will be one fewer warrior who can be personally chosen by the Emperor."

Admidel understood Bohemond's earlier obstinacy: "So that's why the Black Templars were so resolute... but why can ten Black Swords only have nine Emperor's Champions?"

Lin waved his hand: "There's no need to dig so deeply into the affairs of the Black Templars."

Admidel grasped why the Black Templars had earlier fought tooth and nail to recover this sword—but that being so, returning it now was hardly a simple matter either.

After all their toil and trouble, they would discover in the end that the thing was in your hands—how, then, would they ever explain it?

What's more, so long as no one spoke of it, for now no one should know that the Black Sword was in their possession...

For the sake of the Ultimate Wall's unity, Lin felt it was necessary for him not to return this Black Sword.

Besides, this cesspit called Warhammer could never in the end shake free of its eerie, ghost-ridden faith. Keeping this weapon in hand, Lin reckoned the thing might just be an opportunity to study these uncanny, furtive powers later on.

Even if the thing were a medium used by the Master of Mankind to hurl His suicide troops, once it came into my hands, it would have to take the surname Li as well!

This was clearly not the moment to study the Black Sword, however, so Lin ordered the Felynes to hurry up and hide the weapon away. Only after admonishing the Felynes again and again did Lin finally leave the Hunter.

All these matters would have to wait until they returned to Cath Maximus. For now he had to give more thought to the problems at hand—such as how to make some preparations for the coming clash between the Imperial Fists and the Black Templars.

He hurried to the surgery chamber aboard the strike cruiser, where the wounded warriors of the Second Legion now lay. But Lin had no time to treat them just yet; his gaze drifted over the other wounded and finally locked onto a figure that was plainly different from the rest.

The current High Marshal of the Black Templars, Bohemond.

This High Marshal had received no special treatment; let alone the Exemplary Fists, not even a Black Templars Apothecary was at his side.

Lin walked over and began reviewing the data on the vital-signs monitoring equipment. He found that, though this High Marshal was in no danger of dying, his internal organs were damaged in many places, and the severity of his wounds was considerable.

The defect in this son of Dorn's Sus-an Membrane left him conscious even after grievous injury, but that very consciousness instead aggravated his wounds.

After being forcibly knocked unconscious, this High Marshal had not woken again. It was only because there were more critically wounded patients that the Apothecary had, for the time being, passed over the gravely injured Bohemond.

"Prepare a spare set of superhuman organs." Lin instructed the medical Servitor: "I'm going to prepare for surgery."

"How is his condition?" asked the Astartes in the adjacent sickbed.

Lin looked over and saw a warrior whose face was covered in scars.

"I am Issaga, Master of the Priests and Librarian of the Castigators Chapter," he introduced himself. "While visiting the Black Templars as a representative, I received the summons of the Ultimate Wall and came here together with them."

"A Priest and Librarian both? Such a dual role is quite rare among the Astartes."

"For certain reasons, the loyal warriors of our Chapter must be guided and soothed by psychic means." Issaga clearly had no wish to dwell on it; he looked toward Bohemond: "You still haven't told me his condition, priest."

"Multiple contusions and fractures across his body, with damage to his internal organs as well. The failure of his membrane has worsened his injuries; fortunately, his clotting organ is still functioning normally, so there is no danger to his life."

Lin deliberately switched to a medical cutting tool to slice open Bohemond's black carapace, thereby displaying to the others his rigor and his care: "I will perform an operation to replace the organs within his body. He should regain consciousness by the time he returns to Cath Maximus, but he will need at least half a month of rest to recover even basic combat capability."

"Thank you for your efforts, priest."

"No need for thanks. In truth, both I and Kurande have been hoping to meet this High Marshal. Though he remains unconscious for now, I too have been able to behold the bearing of this Chapter Master."

These words made Issaga sense the peculiarity of Lin's identity: "Just who exactly are you...?"

"The present leader of Cath Maximus, Magos Lin. Together with the Ultimate Wall, I fight to resist the greenskins."

Issaga was filled with solemn respect: "It is rare for a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus to grasp the bigger picture as you do."

"I merely fight for the common wealth of mankind." Lin replied modestly, confident that he had already made a good impression on this Astartes who held a voice of authority: "I believe that, through our shared efforts, we shall surely become an Ultimate Wall, indestructible, standing before the Throneworld."

Issaga nodded in agreement, and seeing that the moment was ripe, Lin shifted the topic: "However, before we reach the final, decisive battle, I think we should still avoid unnecessary sacrifices as far as possible."

The Castigators' Priest suddenly grew somewhat awkward: "Although Brother Bohemond can at times become overly aggressive for the sake of glory, he is truly worthy of the name of Dorn."

"I'd say he's more like Guilliman, actually."

For a moment Issaga pondered whether this remark was meant as praise.

After thinking it over, he decided that someone from the Cult Mechanicus probably did not understand the grudges between the Primarchs so well, and so he took the remark as a compliment for the time being: "Aggression aside, he is indeed as far-sighted as Guilliman."

"I hope, too, that he will make the right decision—but my logic still leaves me with concerns on that account. Honored Brother Issaga, as a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus, I have always firmly believed that only concrete action can dispel doubt."

Issaga had already caught the deeper meaning behind Lin's words; he mused: "I cannot promise anything, but I will do my best to mend the divisions among the sons of Dorn."

"That is enough." Lin nodded in satisfaction.

The Castigators' faction was already faintly leaning toward them. Although the only Castigator present here was Issaga, who served as their representative, this symbol carried weight enough.

On top of that, they still had in hand the Black Templars Gene-Seeds left behind by the Abhorrence...

The medical Servitor brought over the spare superhuman organs, and Lin bent to his work, continuing the surgery on the High Marshal whose belly he had cut open.

It might not be enough to make the two of them collaborate in perfect intimacy, but he thought he had already grasped the key to keeping the Imperial Fists and the Black Templars from turning against one another.

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