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TALE - The Second Son (Rough Draft)


simison

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As Theodor began to make the necessary arrangements, the door made way for Ludendof. As before, the officer was the picture of military discipline. It was only because of Darshan's passive abilities as an empath did he sense Ludendof's internal flash of frustration, aimed at Theodor. This would be the first time Ludendof was not the first officer to arrive for a meeting. 

 

Regardless of his emotional state, Ludendof marched to Alexandros and saluted. "My lord! I have come as ordered." 

 

With a quick salute, Alexandros ordered, "At ease."

 

While Ludendof transitioned into a parade rest, he shot a quick glance at the Chief Apothecary. After a moment's hesitation, Ludendof, "My lord, if I may, you said you had an answer for me once Compliance was enacted."

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Alexandros was not remotely surprised that this was the first thing he'd have to address with his logistics officer. "I did and I do. However, I'm going to have to ask you to wait, until the meeting. Just a little longer now."

 

"Yes, my lord," Ludendof said, a little too quickly.

 

"In the meantime," Alexandros added as he handed his dataslate to him. "I have a priority task for you to accomplish. The speed of which will determine how long our fleet will remain in-system."

 

Although still acting with complete professionalism, Alexandros could detect a pang of curiosity within Ludendof. He received the dataslate and pored over the information. "I must admit, my lord. I was wondering if you were going to keep the Legion in grey, or if you were going to mirror the Lightning Bearers." He paused, glancing at the Primarch's purple robes. "I can understand the purple, but why red?"

 

Alexandros grinned. "All while be explained in the proper time."

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Chapter 10: Lessons Learned

 

The moment the last member of the Praetorate was seated, Alexandros asked, "Who can tell me what the projected casualty totals were calculated if we had executed a traditional planetary campaign?"

 

After the brusque end to their previous meeting, an air of hesitation hung over the officers, sons afraid of disappointing their father. Ludendof broke the silence. "With complete void control and the technological inferiority of the planet's inhabitants, a conservative estimate would place losses around 5-10%, perhaps as high as 15%."

 

"That's a potential loss of 6,000 of my sons," Alexandros stated, emphasizing the final word. "Now, what about the Balovians?"

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"From information procured from their warships, we know that they had a standing army of, at least, 100 million," Irvin said. "Unusually small in comparison to their system's population, however it seems they had not experienced war in some time."

 

"What of civilian casualties?"

 

Another pause as the Storm Riders glanced at each other. "It's always difficult to evaluate civilian casualties, my lord," Adalbard offered.

 

"Yet, it is for them that we make war," Alexandros observed. "Let's throw out a simple estimate of 500 million. Many of the Balovian bases were located within population centers, making even precise orbital bombardments capable of wiping out millions in seconds. Furthermore, quite of a few civilians would have been pressed into service as conscripts as we annihilated army divisions. That would have been 600 million people denied to the Imperium. Now, how many casualties happened during my execution of planetary Compliance?" 

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"One, my lord," Irvin said. 

 

"One," Alexandros repeated as he held up a finger. "For the price of one life, we now have a system sworn to the Imperium. The Imperium now has an entire system with its industrial capacity intact. Most importantly, at the cost of one life, there are millions of fathers, mothers, and children who get to go home, not to ruins but to their loved ones."

 

Alexandros stood and circled the table as he continued to speak. "This is the arrogance I spoke of days ago. Whether consciously or subconsciously, each one of you believes that your undisputed mastery of the physical battlefield allows you to neglect the other aspects of war. In its purest form, war is not some mundane thing fought with bolter and blade, but it is one idea or ideal in conflict with another. Wars are not heralded by the squeeze of a trigger but by the silence of a thought."

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"This must come to an end," Alexandros continued as he returned to his throne. "Henceforth, I want the Legion to become as adept to the war of ideas as much as it is to the physical battlefield."

 

A moment of silence prevailed as Alexandros allowed his words to sink in. Adalbard would be the first to speak, "My lord, although laudable, this will be a difficult endeavour. I know well that you teach that we are all men first, but there are barriers standing between us and our mortal kin."

 

"And I do acknowledge these difficulties," Alexandros said. "The standard training regimens the Legiones Astartes employs, by their nature, implicitly reinforces the divide in order to acquaint trainees with their new abilities. A necessary aspect, but it is imperative that we modify the training program to both realize a marine's capabilities while retaining a connection to his core humanity. Not only will this enable the Fifth to win Compliances as I have, it will be necessary to put an end to the plague that afflicts us."

 

Irvin quirked an eyebrow. "The plague, my lord?"

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"The stream of insanity that crippled dozens of Legionaries. I have not been ignoring since we've been campaigning, merely finalizing my studies," Alexandros explained. "Do you remember what your original hypothesis was?"

 

Irvin nodded. "I believed the psykers were the cause of it, even though we have cases not involving them."

 

"You were half-right. On the surface, the psykers do appear to be the cause due to being responsible for 70% of the cases, even though they form 11% of the Legion. As you rightfully observed, they were involved in each case in some degree. However, they are they not the cause, though they do accelerate the appearance of symptoms. No, this weakness is found within each of us. Every single Legionary is in danger of their minds breaking."

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"Impossible!" 

 

The Praetorate swung their heads toward Crassus. Only Alexandros saw the hidden wince. Apparently, the Prefect's outburst had been subconscious. Despite whatever internal reservations, Crassus pressed forward. "My lord, we are not like the mortal auxiliaries. The psycho-indoctrination training alone should prevent this." 

 

"Yet," Alexandros countered without acrimony. "It is failing. All of you are standing from various degrees from the touch of Battle Fatigue. Crassus, if I had to put an estimate, I suspect you are nineteen campaigns from suffering it. Irvin, perhaps as much as one hundred. Ludendof, your position as chief of logistics has protected you, and you might have as many as two hundred campaigns."

 

"Then the answer is to rotate battalions for combat duty," Irvin declared. 

 

Crassus scoffed. "I could not think of a faster way to advertise our weakness to our brother Legions. Not only will our reputation suffer, but we will quickly fall behind in Compliances as we are questioned for holding back so many of our brothers."

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"While I am less concerned for our reputation, Crassus is right that we do have a duty to execute the objectives of the Great Crusades," Adalbard said. "I recommend fewer rotations out of combat duty combined with a complete ban on battle-psykers."

 

"But this doesn't solve the problem," Theodor countered. "All that will do is reduce the number of cases."

 

"We have a duty to the Emperor," Adalbard repeated. 

 

Ludendof became increasingly aware that the Primarch was silently watching the proceedings. Clearing his throat, the brown-eyed Astartes focused on Alexandros. "My lord, I believe you mentioned something about our humanity that would enable us to address this?"

 

Alexandros smiled at him. "Indeed, I did, didn't I?"

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"How can our humanity cure Battle Fatigue?" Crassus asked, in a tone on the thin border between respectful and wary. 

 

"Simple, it is war that causes this plague, thus, we must counter war's influence with the influence of peace. On Delos, there is an ancient tradition among both the Sindhuans and the Tyrins, known as Dharma and Arête, respectively. Although these words have meant different things throughout the ages, for the purpose of the Fifth Legion, I define these words as 'pursuits of excellent'. I want every man to find a path, an interest, a trade, anything that he can devote himself to that is not explicitly tied to warfare. It is imperative that whatever the pursuit is, it provides some relief to him and his duties as a warrior. This is a spiritual pain that harms us. To cure it, we must address our spiritual health."

 

A wave of uncomfortable silence followed over the Primarch's language, the Emperor's ban on religion coming close to violation.

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Alexandros pressed onward. "Additionally, if a man is unable to pursue his dharma then, at the very least, he should have a chance to relieve his burden through entertainment."

 

"Entertainment?" Irvin repeated with a quirked eyebrow.

 

"Yes, entertainment, amusement, merriment, recreation, what have you. This too will provide some protection against Battle Fatigue. Whether it be cards, music, or gaming, I want my sons to be able to enjoy themselves at some point. Though our trade is war, we need not be a gathering of brooding warriors who can think of nothing else beyond their profession. I want every ship within the Fifth Legion to be outfitted with an appropriately-sized sanctam. Within this sanctam are to be a variety of tools for either pursuing one's dharma, for relaxation, or even the simple pleasure of a well-made meal. This is an official order."

 

With reluctance, Irvin said, "It will be done, my lord. It may be difficult on the smaller warships, but at least this will allow us to keep it contained."

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"No," Alexandros countered. "Every sanctam is to be open to all, whether they be Astartes, soldier, or civilian. Furthermore, there will be no rank within these places. Everyone is to be treated with equal respect and dignity. It is through this I hope my sons will retain and strengthen their connection to humanity and to their own humanity."

 

Alexandros could see Crassus struggling with the concept, while Theodor was intrigued, representing both ends of the spectrum. Speaking again, Irvin asked, "My lord, are we to display our weakness for all to see?"

 

"Did I say we would? If I am correct, then the plague will come to an end or be reduced to so few cases as to be imperceptible. I see no reason to dwell on what happened before so long as we can move forward." 

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That mollified Irvin and several of the other officers. Adalbard spoke next, "My lord, is this why you insisted I select craft on Terra?"

 

"Indeed," Alexandros said with a nod. "I do not simply intend to make an edict and then not perform any follow-up. It is to your corps that will execute my will and prevent further incidents. You and your subordinates will watch for signs of Battle Fatigue and counter it. It is to you that I charge to guide the Legion toward stability and health, whether it be in my presence or in my absence. To be effective guides requires all members of the corps, present and future, to have their own dharma. To this end, I am renaming the Opsequarion to the Chaplaincy, and your position will be High Chaplain."

 

Adalbard grimaced. "My lord, I must protest. The name is tainted with ignorant mysticism and is an affront to the Imperial Truth."

 

"The Imperial Truth acknowledges the existence of souls, of which I charge you to minister to. Whether it's known as the Opsequarion or the Disciplinary Corps, it does not suffice to reflect this new reality. Therefore, I insist on Chaplaincy which better represents your new purpose. If you are so concerned with how the past has used the term, than I challenge you to 'cleanse' it of its prior connotations and make it more suitable to the Imperium."

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Although he did not look please with his new duty, Adalbard held his tongue. Alexandros continued as he focused on Ludendof, "While I understand the vagaries of war will make it difficult, assessments of a man's spiritual health will play an important factor in duties assigned, especially combat duty." 

 

Ludendof nodded, subtle gratitude playing over his face. "My lord, how soon do you intend to implement all of this?"

 

"Tomorrow. My final order for today is that the entire Legion will assemble on the western outskirts of the planetary capital at 0550, parade formation. I intend for Balov to both witness the transformation of the Legion and to serve as a training ground for my theories, especially in the political arts. It is here that I want my sons to understand the importance of these systems and how to wield them in service of the Emperor. As such, I am invoking my authority as Primarch to claim the Balov System as an official protectorate of the Fifth Legion."

 

There was a pause. "My lord," Irvin began. "Do you mean to emulate the Madrigal Sphere?"

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"No, I do not. Balov will remain under the authority of an Imperial Governor, much as is the rest of the Imperium. The difference is that the Legion will maintain a permanent garrison, alongside the recruitment rights. In addition to protecting the system, they will form a body of advisers to Imperial political agents. They will have no official ability to countermand the governor or the local political body, barring an emergency, but can wield influence to guide the process. An important tool in any politician's arsenal is a mastery of persuasion and 'soft' power. While the Fifth Legion is adapting to my vision, they will have the time and opportunity to learn what I have learned and apply it as Balov is brought into the Imperium's fold." 

 

"It will be difficult," Crassus warned. "We have no training in this." 

 

Alexandros smiled. "Think of it as another field of war to master. A political victory, as I have just demonstrated, can be much more potent that a military one. As the ancient axiom states, 'the pen is mightier than the sword'. If there are no further questions, you are dismissed. We have much work ahead of us."

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~~~

 

"Thank you again for coming at this early hour," Alexandros said as he stepped onto the raised platform.

 

Next to him, Mat stifled a yawn as he took the stairs. He stole another glance at the gathering in front of the platform. Over 20,000 Legionaries stood at attention in their finest armour, every medal and commendation earned from decades of war displayed on grey. Towards the city, a stream of civilians came despite the darkness. Darshan could see fear and caution playing out over them, but most of all curiousity. At the forefront of the crowd was the new Imperial Governor, Chukhay, watching and assessing. 

 

"I'm still not sure if I'll be much help, Mat muttered, uncomfortable that it was just him and Alexandros alone on the platform for all to see. 

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Alexandros chuckled as he stopped in the platform's center. "Nonsense, you'll be of great help to me."

 

Taking his place next to the giant, Mat stared out over the legionaries before him. "Could I become one of them?"

 

Alexandros swiveled his gaze on the young man, a temptation to peer into the future bubbling within. Darshan resisted the effort. An answer would require casting his gaze years into the future, and he distrusted any answer that was more than a few months ahead of him. "I don't know. I would be lying if I didn't say it is a perilous process to become a legionary. But you are not like others, Mat. You possess a strength of will that can be forged into steel with continued discipline. If you are serious, I can make the arrangements to have you begin the process. Though I will insist that you use your actual name."

 

'Mat' twitched. "...I don't remember it. I was just a tiny kid when I lost my family."

 

With a pause, Alexandros said, "Mahtva. Your name is Mahtva." 

 

"You sure?" Mahtva asked, distrust and hope mixing his tone.

 

Alexandros tapped his forehead. "There are precious few things that the human mind actually forgets. Most memories are simply buried to allow us to deal with the present, some more deeply than others."

 

The young man chewed on the thought for a moment before he nodded, "Thanks." 

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Alexandros smiled before turning his attention to the legion before him. A morning wind caught his red cape. No longer was he dressed in a simple robe, but this morning he wore his full armour. "My sons," the Primarch said, his empowered voice echoing across the land. "I stand before you this dawn as a disappointed father."

 

While their discipline would never allow them to display it, Darshan could see the collective aura of the legion violently react to the chastisement. The fact a crowd of mortals stood as witnesses only twisted the shame deeper. Good

 

"When my Father explained to me the purpose of the Great Crusade, I could not tell you the joy I felt to know that my kin were involved in such a noble undertaking. Never more would mother Terra be separated from her lost children. Thousands of years of isolation and predation would be ended as the lost would be found and the oppressed be liberated. It is with pride that I accepted my birthright and ascended as Primarch to take my place within the Great Crusade and to lead you, my sons. Alas, I came to sense a subtle poison among you. This poison can be summed in a name."  

 

Alexandros raised an open palm before clenching it into a tight fist. "Storm Rider. All of you have steadily drifted from the ideals of the Great Crusade as the years have come and gone. Instead, you have confused visionary majesty with raw physical might, an unspoken belief that you are more than men. That you are a force of nature, demigods of war. To this, I say," his hand chopped down. "No."

 

"This is the poison that quietly infects the soul of the legion. By believing you are greater than Man, you are divorcing yourself from the very quality that separates us from the monsters that feast on humanity. Though you may stand taller than any single man, this does not mean you are his superior in value. When I secured this world in the name of the Emperor, it was not the mightiest of the legion who stood by my side.

 

With a mental cue, Mahtva stood tall and straight as he could next to the giant. Alexandros swung a hand towards him. "It was this youth! Although he had been deprived of home and kin, he possessed strength and will worthy of Astartes. This young man would have been forsaken by arrogant fools, who would have deemed him nothing more than the refuse of our race. Yet, he was the one to protect me from the assassin’s bullet! It is in him that all can see the purpose of the legions. We do not travel the stars as a horde seeking to slake our bloodlust. We are more than that. Our purpose is not to slay the enemies of the Imperium, but to be the protectors of humanity. To watch over them, to allow Mankind to unlock potential the potential within!

 

Now.

 

Throwing his hands into the air, a great gout of fire erupted from Mahtva's hands, mixing with the light of the rising dawn. A few cries sounded from the crowd, but Darshan was not concerned with them as he reached out, ministering to his sons. It was time to plant hope.

 

"My sons, I invite you on a journey with me. Not to simply make war for its own sake, for the victory of the Great Crusade is preordained. No, but to look past the Great Crusade and onward into eternity." Darshan saw the earlier shame give way anticipation and excitement. Working subtle power, Darshan stoked the growing fervour.

 

"We will stand between humanity and her foes as we return to the glories of the Dark Age of Technology. No, not to merely reclaim past glories, but to exceed them! To stand as the wardens against the threatening darkness! To usher in a new halcyon age of peace and prosperity! To bear the burdens of our race upon our own shoulders! MY SONS!" Alexandros roared as he threw his arms toward the heavens. "WILL YOU SHARE THIS BURDEN WITH ME?"

 

The legion's answer shook the earth. 

 

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Chapter 11: The Two Seers

 

Darshan sat in the center of his quarters on bare floor. Hands pressed together with his feet resting on opposing thighs, he wore nothing as he assumed a his own replication of the ancient padmasana pose. Although his eyes were closed, he saw far more than the human eye was capable of. Twenty shards of his soul surrounded him in a large circle, a ray of light connecting each shard to him. In a ritual invented on his days of Delos, he inspected each beam for damage. Metaphysical cracks were identified and healed with persistent concentration. 

 

He could not recall the first time he became aware of the spiritual damage he had incurred. Recognition of the corruption had eluded him even as he had gained a gradual awareness that his soul was not quite what it should be. Nor was he sure exactly what would occur if one of the spiritual tethers broke. Would the shard simply fade away? Would it assume a life of its own? Or would it be devoured by a Warp predator? 

 

It was one of the few times Darshan had been tempted to break his own self-imposed divination limitation. The damage was gradual, and it would take decades, scores of years before the event in question could occur. As curious as he was, Darshan decided against looking so far into the future nor would he allow the damage to accrue. It was too irresponsible. 

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However, he suspected a clue lay in the onslaught of Battle Fatigue that had afflicted his sons. Indeed, he was afraid that it was a fault within him that had manifested among his legion. A small pang of guilt rang out as it always did when he thought of it. Even if it was a weakness that Alexandros had no part in its creation, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of his sons had paid with their lives for it. Still, the symptoms had been diverse, which made it difficult to speculate how his soul would break, or if he would break in the same way. A primarch, despite similarity in appearance, was not the same as a space marine.

 

With a final effort of will, Darshan exorcised the last of the spiritual blemishes. Before he concluded the ritual, he prayed. It had been a new addition, shortly after leaving Terra. He prayed for the protection of his sons in war, and that his remaining lost brothers be found. There was a reason he always split himself into twenty fragments. He did not pray to any deity and cared naught if his prayer was answered by nothing. It was the action itself he found solace in.

 

Alexandros opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He had not taught his psyker-sons this technique because it required utter discipline and an intense mastery of telepathy to use. None of his sons had yet to demonstrate the necessary strength or aptitude to perform it. Dharma and rest would have to suffice instead. 

 

Speaking of which...

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Clothing himself with his robe, Alexandros exited his private quarters into a large hallway. Three unique lumens were installed in the ceiling at regular intervals. That had been the last modification to the Elpis, completed only a week ago at Hena-jagathi. Alexandros was eager to put them to use as he exited the hallway into another room. This room, while reserved for his use, served as an ambassadorial suite. Unlike the eclectic collections decorating his quarters, the suite was more focused, featuring the luxuries expected by the elites of Terra, such as a table of mahogany from the On-turas system. 

 

Alexandros swiftly crossed the room and opened the door to the hallway. Standing on the other side was a Halcyon Warden, on the verge of opening the door himself. The legionary recovered and saluted, "My lord, requisition for you." Behind the Warden was another escorting a stasis crate. On the other side of the crate was Irvin Ruel. 

 

"Lord Commander Ruel, what an unexpected surprise," Alexandros said as he returned the salute. "Legionaries, if you would deliver the requisition in the inner hallway."

 

As the legionaries moved, Alexandros waited for a moment before falling in step behind them. Irvin took his place next to his gene-sire. Although he had offered a respectful nod upon Alexandros' greeting, his following silence was more than enough to reveal his displeasure to the Primarch. Alexandros didn't press. What Irvin wished to discuss would require complete privacy.

 

The four of them entered the hallway between the rooms where Alexandros directed them to the center. Once there, Alexandros keyed in the code to deactivate and unlock the crate. The legionaries, unaware of what was inside peered around the giant as he opened the crate. Inside the adamantium shell was a young sapling resting within a large pot of fresh earth. 

 

Alexandros smiled as he withdrew the plant, "At last." He delicately placed it next to the wall before reaching for a set of controls built into the wall. After inputting a few commands, the central lumen shined with the brightness and youth of Sol itself. "Thank you, my sons. Please return the crate to logistics. Lord Commander, if you would be so kind as to remain." 

 

Irvin held his silence long enough for the entrance to close behind the legionaries. "You ordered a tree?"

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"Not just any tree. This is an authentic green apple tree as could be found on ancient Terra. A descendant species survived in the Alpha Centauri system."

 

Irvin spared the sapling a few more seconds before he turned his attention to the three ceiling lumens. "Why three? Wouldn't one suffice?"

 

Alexandros pointed at a space on the wall. "There are two forcefield emitters built into the wall. I intend to have three separate biomes here. The center will be temperate, the section closest to the suite will feature a recreation of a jungle. The final section I'm not sure what I'll use it for. Perhaps desert plantlife as we saw on Hena-jagathi." The Primarch shifted the pot a little bit more before he deemed his work finished. He stood and gave his full attention to Irvin. "Now, what is distressing you enough to come to me, Irvin?"

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As far as Alexandros knew, Irvin had never worn off-duty robes. A black, body sleeve was the closest he would ever reach to casual wear. Today, he wore his full armour, meaning he wished to discuss official matters. Irvin came to a position of attention, which, as always, mildly exasperated the Primarch whenever it happened in his private ship-domain. "My lord, I wish to formally protest the new legion organisation."

 

Alexandros could not be less surprised, even without calling upon his arts. "Not pleased with your new title, Brigadier?" 

 

Irvin's patrician features twitched. "I am able to serve under any title as necessary, whether it be chapter master, brigadier, or sentinel. However, I do not see the benefit of modifying the organisation of the entire legion. Especially four years after Balov."

 

"The new structure is more forward-looking, Irvin," Alexandros countered. "If we remained with the original organisation, the legion would have well over 31 chapters. Nor do we intend to cap the legion's size at 31,000 marines. At some point, we were going to need an additional layer of unit size to accommodate our growing size." 

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"I understand that, but why was it necessary to institute so many changes instead of simply adding an additional unit size, such as the brigade? What benefit is there from renaming a company to a century, using company to replace chapter and outright eliminating battalion? Especially now that it has been four years after Balov."

 

"It suited my purposes," Alexandros said. "The new organisation better reflects the synthesis of the traditional Roma legions and the more modern designations. I agree that it would have been an easier transition if I had implemented the new system during the transfiguration at Balov, but it was not necessary to address it at that time. If anything, this will serve as an abstract lesson that the legion's evolution is not yet concluded. You are well aware that my divination is limited, and that there might be additional reforms necessary as the Great Crusade progresses."

 

Only partially mollified, Irvin continued. "Very well, my lord, but what of the new rank system? Allowing every officer to choose an alternative title will cause unnecessary chaos and confusion when the chain of command, by its very nature, requires absolute clarity."

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"There are limits in place to keep titles rank-specific," Alexandros reminded him. "This will prevent the worst of the damage you fear, while allowing the benefit of building esprit de corps throughout the legion. By choosing his own title invests a marine in his ranks and gives him a measure of expression. At the same time, it teaches the Wardens to respect different systems of power outside the legion through language." Seeing the resistance in Irvin's blue eyes, Alexandros declared, "This is my will, Irvin."

 

The Terran stared for a moment before nodding. "As you will, my lord." 

 

Alexandros allowed Irvin his irritation as he asked, "Are there any other matters that require my attention?"

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