His black eyes drilled into the tech-adept’s cowl, locking to the glimmering lenses therein.
‘This is no different to any other raid, honoured adept. We are raiders. We raid. This is what we do, is it not?’
‘Then I would form a further query. Why did we travel across a quarter of the galaxy to reach this location? I suspect I need not process the number of worlds in the Imperium and calculate the percentage that offer potential raid targets. So I would phrase my query thusly: Why did we come to Tsagualsa?’
The Night Lords fell silent again. They watched the prophet in wordless patience, for once.
‘I want answers,’ Talos said. ‘I believe I will find them here.’
‘Answers to what, Soul Hunter?’ one of the warriors asked. He could see the question mirrored in many of their eyes.
‘To why we are still fighting this war.’
As expected, his answer was met with laughter, with the answers ‘To win it’ and ‘To survive’ mixed in with the amusement. That suited Talos well enough. Let them believe it was a veteran’s joke, shared with his kindred.
It took three hours for Xarl to speak the words Talos had been expecting.
‘You shouldn’t have said that.’
The arming chamber was a hive of industry, as Septimus and several servitors machined First Claw’s war plate onto their bodies.
Cyrion glanced at the human serf helping to drill his shin guard into its locking position.
‘You look like death,’ he pointed out. Septimus forced a smile, but said nothing. His face was a palette of bruised swelling.
‘Talos,’ Xarl said, ‘you shouldn’t have said that in the war council.’
Talos closed and opened his fist, testing the workings of his gauntlet. It purred in a muted orchestra of smooth servos.
‘What, exactly, should I not have said?’ he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Xarl shrugged his left shoulder as a servitor drilled the pauldron into place. ‘No one respects a maudlin leader. You are too thoughtful, too introspective. They considered your words to be a jest, and that was a saving grace. But trust me, brother, none of the C laws would wish to descend onto that cursed world purely to satisfy your desire for soul-searching.’
Talos nodded, agreeing easily while checking his bolter. ‘True. Their only reason for making planetfall is to spread terror through the population, is it not? There’s no place for nuance or deeper emotion in such shallow, worthless psyches.’
First Claw looked at their leader in silence for several moments.
‘What is wrong with you?’ Xarl asked. ‘What bitterness grips you these nights? You were speaking like this before you fell into the long dream, and have been twice as bad since awakening. You cannot keep shouting out against the Legion. We are what we are.’
The prophet locked his bolter to his thigh plating along the magnetic seal. ‘I am tired of merely surviving this war. I want to win it. I want there to be meaning behind fighting it.’
‘We are what we are, Talos.’
‘Then we must be better. We must change and evolve, because this stasis is worthless.’
‘You sound like Ruven before he left us.’
The prophet’s lips curled in a snide sneer. ‘I have carried this bitterness for a long time, Xarl. The only difference is that now I wish to speak of it. And I do not regret it. To speak of these flaws is like lancing a boil. I already feel the poison bleeding from me. It is no sin to wish to live a life that matters. We are supposed to be fighting a war and inflicting fear in the name of our father. We are sworn to bear his vengeance.’
Xarl didn’t hide the confusion taking hold of his pale features. ‘Are you insane? How many among the Legion truly paid heed to the rantings of a mad primarch spoken so long ago?’
‘I am not saying the Legion has heeded those words,’ Talos narrowed his eyes. ‘I am saying that we should heed them. If we did, our lives would be worth more.’
‘The Legion’s lesson is
‘This is no different to any other raid, honoured adept. We are raiders. We raid. This is what we do, is it not?’
‘Then I would form a further query. Why did we travel across a quarter of the galaxy to reach this location? I suspect I need not process the number of worlds in the Imperium and calculate the percentage that offer potential raid targets. So I would phrase my query thusly: Why did we come to Tsagualsa?’
The Night Lords fell silent again. They watched the prophet in wordless patience, for once.
‘I want answers,’ Talos said. ‘I believe I will find them here.’
‘Answers to what, Soul Hunter?’ one of the warriors asked. He could see the question mirrored in many of their eyes.
‘To why we are still fighting this war.’
As expected, his answer was met with laughter, with the answers ‘To win it’ and ‘To survive’ mixed in with the amusement. That suited Talos well enough. Let them believe it was a veteran’s joke, shared with his kindred.
It took three hours for Xarl to speak the words Talos had been expecting.
‘You shouldn’t have said that.’
The arming chamber was a hive of industry, as Septimus and several servitors machined First Claw’s war plate onto their bodies.
Cyrion glanced at the human serf helping to drill his shin guard into its locking position.
‘You look like death,’ he pointed out. Septimus forced a smile, but said nothing. His face was a palette of bruised swelling.
‘Talos,’ Xarl said, ‘you shouldn’t have said that in the war council.’
Talos closed and opened his fist, testing the workings of his gauntlet. It purred in a muted orchestra of smooth servos.
‘What, exactly, should I not have said?’ he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Xarl shrugged his left shoulder as a servitor drilled the pauldron into place. ‘No one respects a maudlin leader. You are too thoughtful, too introspective. They considered your words to be a jest, and that was a saving grace. But trust me, brother, none of the C laws would wish to descend onto that cursed world purely to satisfy your desire for soul-searching.’
Talos nodded, agreeing easily while checking his bolter. ‘True. Their only reason for making planetfall is to spread terror through the population, is it not? There’s no place for nuance or deeper emotion in such shallow, worthless psyches.’
First Claw looked at their leader in silence for several moments.
‘What is wrong with you?’ Xarl asked. ‘What bitterness grips you these nights? You were speaking like this before you fell into the long dream, and have been twice as bad since awakening. You cannot keep shouting out against the Legion. We are what we are.’
The prophet locked his bolter to his thigh plating along the magnetic seal. ‘I am tired of merely surviving this war. I want to win it. I want there to be meaning behind fighting it.’
‘We are what we are, Talos.’
‘Then we must be better. We must change and evolve, because this stasis is worthless.’
‘You sound like Ruven before he left us.’
The prophet’s lips curled in a snide sneer. ‘I have carried this bitterness for a long time, Xarl. The only difference is that now I wish to speak of it. And I do not regret it. To speak of these flaws is like lancing a boil. I already feel the poison bleeding from me. It is no sin to wish to live a life that matters. We are supposed to be fighting a war and inflicting fear in the name of our father. We are sworn to bear his vengeance.’
Xarl didn’t hide the confusion taking hold of his pale features. ‘Are you insane? How many among the Legion truly paid heed to the rantings of a mad primarch spoken so long ago?’
‘I am not saying the Legion has heeded those words,’ Talos narrowed his eyes. ‘I am saying that we should heed them. If we did, our lives would be worth more.’
‘The Legion’s lesson is
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