Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 173: Old Grievances

"In the beginning, it was merely conflict. Slaughter driven by selfish desires, brothers turning upon brothers... but such things had happened many times before. Yet, we know their minds and bodies eventually suffered corruption, their belief systems twisting irrevocably. After that, it was no longer simple conflict; it was outright rebellion against the Emperor."

Hearing Soshyan's words, Malakim nodded in silent agreement.

"Rebellion takes many forms. It can be blatant and brazen, like the great betrayal that once engulfed the sea of stars, or it can be insidious and imperceptible, harboring hidden murderous intent. But the ultimate result is always the same."

Soshyan's smile was as bright and sharp as the blade resting at the other man's waist.

Then, Armin stepped forward, offering a massive greenskin skull to Malakim, seemingly intending it as a gift.

Malakim stared at the enormous, heavy skull in disbelief. For a moment, Soshyan even suspected the Lamenters' Chapter Master might refuse the trophy.

After a long silence, Malakim extended his empty hand, accepted the skull, and handed it to the warrior standing beside him.

"I am willing to bear witness to your intentions, Chapter Master Soshyan."

He said, smoothly sliding his longsword back into its scabbard.

Just then, another voice rang out from the raised dais."Seeing you clutching that sword, I thought you were itching to start a war."

It was Lord Malakim; his tone was decidedly unfriendly.

The Master of the Death-Sanctum slowly descended the steps of the dais, his posture overtly aggressive. The base of his massive scythe dragged across the metal deck plates, producing an earsplitting, grating screech.

It sounded like a wild beast grinding its fangs.

"We are always prepared to fight the Emperor's enemies to the death."

Malakim replied, his tone perfectly even, neither hot nor cold.

Standing between them, Soshyan naturally understood the root of this inherent hostility.

It traced back two thousand years, to the 9th Black Crusade. The Lamenters had been ordered to the Cadian Sector to repel the invading Legions of Chaos. The Excoriators Chapter was also engaged in the same theater of war at the time.

During a planetary defense campaign, the Lamenters found themselves heavily besieged by overwhelming enemy forces. They Voxed the nearest Imperial forces for immediate aid—the Excoriators. However, not only did the Excoriators fail to respond, but out of profound distrust, they outright abandoned the isolated and helpless Lamenters Chapter to their fate.

Ultimately, it was the arrival of reinforcements from the White Scars and the Ultramarines that saved the Lamenters from total annihilation. Yet, the Chapter still suffered a catastrophic, near-terminal blow. Reduced to a mere 200 warriors, they failed to fully recover even after two millennia. Even before the outbreak of the Badab War, the Lamenters numbered only around 800 initiates.

Thus, ever since the 9th Black Crusade, the Lamenters Chapter had placed the Excoriators—the Chapter that had left them to die—firmly on their blacklist, swearing never to associate with them again until the end of time.

Of course, neither Lord Malakim nor Malakim Phoros had even been born when that incident occurred.

But that did nothing to blunt their inherent, institutional disdain for one another.

"Yet you choose to associate with the enemies of the Emperor?"

The moment Lord Malakim uttered those words, the Lamenters' warriors bristled, their hands instinctively dropping to their weapons.

Seeing this, the warriors of the Excoriators Chapter immediately mirrored the gesture.

The atmosphere instantly petrified.

Soshyan inwardly sighed.

Initially, upon hearing of the Lamenters' arrival, Lord Malakim's very first instinct had actually been to dispatch the fleet and annihilate them. Were it not for Soshyan appealing to logic and reason, the orbit above Gaethis would likely already be choked with burning wreckage.

News of the war in the Maelstrom Zone had spread in all directions. After all, it was the largest collective Astartes rebellion since the Horus Heresy. Only someone like Soshyan, who had been drifting through the Warp and had only recently assumed command of his Chapter, could be entirely ignorant of such a monumental event.

Naturally, when he was finally briefed on the general circumstances of the Maelstrom campaign, he, too, was profoundly shocked.

During his time as a line warrior, Soshyan had heard tales of Huron. As the stalwart protector of the Maelstrom, the man's glorious deeds were beyond reproach.

Yet such a renowned hero had actually betrayed the Imperium, devolving into a loathsome traitor.

Setting aside the incredibly complex political factors involved, it was glaringly obvious that this rebellion had dealt a devastating blow to the reputation of the Adeptus Astartes. The wider Imperium might very well view the existence of the Space Marines with renewed suspicion and paranoia.

However, Soshyan also recognized the unique nature of this rebellion. The renegade Chapters had not turned because they opposed the Emperor or had succumbed to Chaotic corruption; rather, it was primarily a violent reaction against the Imperium's stifling bureaucracy.

The underlying cause was the ferocious blowback generated by the High Lords of Terra's relentless, creeping encroachment upon the independence and autonomy of the Astartes Chapters.

Take the seemingly reasonable Imperial Tithe, for instance. Over the long millennia, it had morphed into a crushing burden for the vast majority of Chapters. By their very nature, Astartes Chapters operated continuously in zones of extreme, high-intensity conflict, making catastrophic casualties a constant risk. Yet the Tithe entirely failed to account for actual manpower losses. It had strayed far from its original intent, devolving into a tool solely used to exert control and leverage over the Chapters.

What was even more exasperating was that, in principle, a Chapter could petition to receive a portion of their tithed gene-seed back if they suffered devastating losses.

However, the Imperium's glacial, byzantine bureaucracy rendered this possibility practically nonexistent. It essentially meant the tithed gene-seed was simply "swallowed whole."

Then, the gene-seed would sit in the vaults of Mars for thousands of years, entirely untouched, even if the founding Chapter it belonged to was wiped out.

The Astral Knights were the perfect example.

Over the millennia, they had dutifully tithed thousands of gene-seed progenoids. Yet, when the Chapter suffered its near-terminal blow, they couldn't count on receiving even a single implant back from Mars. The High Lords would far rather simply form an entirely new Chapter.

A new Chapter that was easier to control.

The Astartes were not blind to this injustice. But with the Emperor locked in eternal slumber and the Primarchs gone, the Adeptus Astartes had lost their voice within the highest echelons of Imperial power. As Imperial bureaucrats continued to shackle them with endless new regulations and even subjected them to legal judgments, the Space Marines found themselves without any institution willing or able to advocate on their behalf.

Only the Chapters of the First Founding possessed the requisite prestige to resist the encroachment of Imperial institutions, but even their influence was largely limited to self-preservation.

This was also one of the reasons Soshyan felt a genuine resonance with the Lamenters.

He had never voiced any dissatisfaction with the Imperium, but that didn't mean he had forgotten exactly what the High Lords of Terra had done following the annihilation of his Chapter.

"We have all shed enough blood."

Soshyan raised his hands, turning first toward Lord Malakim of the Excoriators, and then toward Malakim of the Lamenters.

"I've heard that when greenskins get bored, they simply start fighting amongst themselves. Have we spent so much time fighting greenskins that we've begun to act like them?"

"Certainly not."

Lord Malakim shrugged and hoisted his massive scythe over his shoulder. Malakim released his grip on his sword hilt, but his expression remained as taut as a bowstring.

"If you merely called us here to mock our misery, then you have had your fill."

With that, Malakim turned, intending to leave.

But Soshyan placed a firm hand upon his pauldron.

"That was never our intention."

Malakim didn't stop in his tracks, but he did pause.

"We are merely passing through. We still have a Penitent Crusade to conduct in other sectors. I appreciate your hospitality, Chapter Master Soshyan."

"The purpose of a Penitent Crusade is to wage war against the enemies of the Emperor. We can provide you with exactly that right here."

"We number fewer than three hundred warriors. We cannot offer you much assistance."

"Then, Chapter Master Malakim, would you be willing to tour my flagship? Perhaps you will make your final decision after you've seen it; it won't be too late."

Malakim pondered the offer for a moment before finally turning back.

"Very well. In acknowledgment of your goodwill, Chapter Master Soshyan, I will accompany you."