Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

Bohemond shot Kurande a glance.

This proposal clearly did not sit well with him, but for the sake of those Gene-Seeds, he merely offered a noncommittal reply: "I'd advise against it. Our numbers are too few—taken all together we amount to no more than a single Codex-strength Chapter."

"That our numbers are insufficient to guarantee victory is a fact," Kurande conceded, "but to safeguard the Throneworld is our mission. So long as we work in unity, I believe we will make victory possible."

"As it happens, I have another plan."

The High Marshal took up several documents from his desk, drew out a few sheets, and handed them to Kurande and Issaga. "It is not merely that Battle Moon now closing in on Port Sanctus. Across the breadth of the Imperium's domains there are now sightings of Battle Moons. To hold out in the Sol star region awaiting aid is to wait for reinforcements that will never come. The forces on the Imperium's fringes have already been pinned down by Battle Moons everywhere; it is exceedingly difficult for them to spare men to relieve Terra."

Bohemond did not state his meaning outright, but Kurande caught the implication behind his words. "You mean to say that we should take the offensive."

"Of course. The strength of the Ultimate Wall should first be concentrated upon the other Battle Moons. We must take the initiative to sweep away those Orks, to gather up those forces that cannot return to relieve us, and at last to muster an army that will return to Terra. I will launch the crusade in the name of the High Marshal—in this way we may even win the aid of forces beyond the Astartes."

Issaga made to say something, but Kurande raised a hand to stop him. He stepped forward and stared hard into the High Marshal's eyes.

"And then—what of the Throneworld?" he asked, one word at a time.

"We will return there, of course."

"When? After Terra has already fallen?"

"Must we go back now, Kurande? If the Imperial Fists and the Exemplary Fists, and even my own Black Templars, were to be destroyed, what then are we to do? We must fight with greater prudence."

This High Marshal was indeed deliberate enough in everything save leading the charge himself, and even Kurande was forced to admit there was some reason in what he said. But to defend Terra was the mission of the Imperial Fists, and it was the very purpose for which he had assembled the Ultimate Wall; Kurande would never flinch under such circumstances.

"We need fight but a single battle, Marshal Bohemond—and that is the battle for Terra." He said in a low voice: "A thousand years ago, our father did not fall when defeat seemed all but inevitable, and neither shall we now."

Bohemond looked at Kurande in astonishment. He did not agree with Kurande's thinking, yet he was moved by Kurande's will.

"Permit me to offer an analogy."

"High Marshal, there is no time for stories."

"It will take only a moment."

Issaga tugged at Kurande, and Kurande relented; they sat down facing one another.

"Sigismund was Dorn's most beloved son. When the Black Templars were founded during the Second Founding, Sigismund was granted Dorn's favourite vessel—the Eternal Crusader—as the key instrument by which he would extend the reach of the Imperium. She was a Gloriana-class battleship. Alas, she still lies in the shipyards at Cypra Mundi undergoing repair, and will not return to us for another twenty years. I grieve deeply at her absence, but the spirit she represents endures still in the heart of every one of us Black Templars."

"And your meaning is?"

"Sigismund swore never to rest. He said the Black Templars would build no walls, but would only press onward. We will fulfil only the purpose for which the Emperor first created us—to bring the whole galaxy under the dominion of mankind. Not to stand beneath the guise of defence and watch as it falls to pieces and disintegrates."

"Dorn's progeny are renowned for the holding of fortresses. But as followers of Sigismund, we are not so—for us, attack is the only means of defence. Our blades are our breastworks, our tanks are our ramparts. Any weapon is most potent in the advance; and if the enemy is suffered to dwell at the gates, then not even the walls of Terra will avail."

Bohemond's words were radical beyond all question, and Issaga wished to join Kurande in refuting them. But when he turned his head, he found Kurande's expression strangely calm.

It was not that he felt no anger; his anger was drowned beneath an indescribable sorrow.

Was this, then, the origin of the Great Heresy? Brothers estranged by the circumstances around them, until they no longer recognized their own brothers, and turned instead to strike at one another?

Kurande knew well that Bohemond was likewise a son of Dorn, but the rift between them had now made them strangers to each other. He could not help but recall Lin—that sage of the Machine Cult who was far more able to offer help than were his own brothers.

He declined Bohemond's further elaboration and instead laid bare the fact: "You are standing by and watching Terra fall."

As Kurande had expected, Bohemond did not answer directly. He passed over Kurande's words and went on pressing his point: "Now we have a better choice. Only if we strike outward at once, and in the course of gathering reinforcements cut off the Orks' fleets from the other Battle Moons, will we blunt the momentum of the Orks' advance. Then these beasts will be forced to turn back and deal with us. But if we return to relieve Terra, the greater part of the Imperium will be put to the torch."

"Then Terra will be lost."

Kurande rose to his feet, having no intention of continuing the conversation. "Marshal, you hold the Emperor to be a god. If you abandon Terra, then what becomes of the Emperor?"

A strange expression flitted across Bohemond's face, as though he had never once considered the question. "The Emperor is eternal, of course."

A god, of course, could not be vanquished by beasts; even should Terra fall, the radiance of the god would still shine as brightly as before. So, at least, the Black Templars firmly believed.

Kurande closed his eyes. Both his hearts pounded violently within his breast—this was the first time outside of battle that he had felt a stress response triggered by purely psychological pressure.

Issaga, too, stood up. He knew the moment had come for him to take the stage.

"Brother Bohemond, at your waist hangs the sword that belonged to Sigismund." Issaga pointed at the blade. He knew well the origin of the High Marshal's sword, for several centuries ago it was with this very blade that Sigismund had taken off his arm. "This sword was forged from the smelting of Dorn's shattered blade—the broken blade that our father, in a moment of fury at having failed to protect the Emperor, snapped in two. This sword has now been passed to you. I think you ought not stand by and watch Terra fall, letting that same age play out once more."

Bohemond's gaze turned cold. "Are you accusing me, Issaga?"

"I only wish to have you make clear your priorities, High Marshal. Whose oath is the more important to you? Is it Sigismund's? He was a great warrior, the first Emperor's Champion, the first Black Templar. But ought not our father Dorn to take precedence over him? To defend Terra was the mission Dorn entrusted to every son of Dorn—and that, of course, includes Sigismund. Would you deny Dorn for Sigismund's sake? Will the Black Templars abide by the oath that flows in our very blood?"

"And by what means, then, would you defend Terra? With that flame-wreathed daemon weapon in the hands of the Imperial Fists? Or with your Warp sorcery?"

Bohemond, replying with irony, likewise rose to his feet. Issaga knew he had failed to persuade him. This conversation had reached its end.

"We will defend Terra in our own way, but it shall never be by passive defence." Bohemond issued the order to depart: "Let this conversation end here. I will not hinder the actions of the Ultimate Wall, but neither will the Black Templars be governed by the Ultimate Wall's decisions."

He had cleaved the Ultimate Wall and the Black Templars into two separate bodies—but this, at least, was not the worst case, in which the Imperial Fists and the Black Templars would vie for command.

Kurande said nothing; he was the first to leave the chamber.

Bohemond—or rather the Black Templars—were not worth any further regard from him.

But Issaga lingered a moment, and only after Kurande had gone did he press the question: "What do the Black Templars intend to do?"

"If the Ultimate Wall will not support me, then I must muster my forces anew." Bohemond answered: "I will summon the remaining crusading armies of the Black Templars from abroad, and with my own strength carry out our mission."

"You must spare a squad to the Ultimate Wall—even if it be but a single man."

"You wish me to acknowledge the leadership of the Imperial Fists?"

"It matters greatly—even if only symbolically, it is enough to ensure that the Ultimate Wall will not fracture."

Bohemond pondered for a moment. Though their views diverged, he had no wish for internecine strife, and in the end he gave a nod.

"I have here a warrior called Lancelot. You may take him with you."

____

Gift for Everyone: Once we hit 30 Powerstones, I'll release +1 bonus chapter

________________________________________

If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)

👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉