The rumbling thunder of guns, echoing across the killing fields.
Bursts of fire, tumbling down from the heavens.
Ixion sat in reflection, brooding on his command throne, staring out the viewport at the planet below. Istvaan V had been one of the hardest things he'd been required to do while in command. Countless brothers from their fellow Legions put to the sword. Thankfully, they hadn't been chosen to stay, pursuing their shattered brethren like hounds. That alone might break the Company, shaken as it was after the massacre.
His brothers. Confused by events, angry, lashing out at the smallest provocation. He'd even received reports of a legionary butchering a dozen serfs over a bulkhead scratch, like one of Curze's maniacs.
What should he do now? What did the Company deserve, betrayal of the Primarch, the Warmaster, their brothers? Or stay the path, destroying and tearing down all they had fought to build, all they had bled for, sacrificed for?
No. They needed to stand as one. United. They would stay loyal to the Primarch, his orders, no matter the cost, be it body, soul or conscience. He pressed the control to open the chambers doors, summoning those who waited without.
Velis entered the chamber, trailed by several lower-ranked officers.
"Brother," he called out. "Have you made a decision?"
From the throne, Ixion stood. "Yes brothers." He paused, as if in thought.
"Today, we fight for the Primarch! For the Warmaster!"
Silence fell across the room, the last words spoken echoing faintly.
As one, the assembled officers drew their sidearms, all aimed towards the throne.
Velis sighed, mournful.
"No, brother. For the Emperor."
Edited by SalvationOfReason, 05 June 2016 - 03:00 AM.