Schadenhold Fortress was especially lively that day.
Dantioch and Priest Jannif had been watching the bouts in the Arena below for quite some time.
Jannif frowned, his voice brimming with displeasure. "They have no sense of honor as Astartes!"
"Especially that Ogryn—warrior down there. He even keeps a Cigar in his mouth while fighting!"
"I have never seen an Adeptus Astartes show such contempt for sacred combat!"
The more Priest Jannif spoke, the angrier he grew. He simply began singling them out.
"And those others, leaning against an Armored Vehicle while polishing their boots, swearing in nothing but Lower Hive slang."
"They're just thugs wrapped in Power Armor, monsters modified by a heretic!"
Dantioch said nothing.
He had noticed it too. These troops were far too restless and boisterous, like a band of desperadoes who had just clawed their way out of the bottom of a Hive City, rather than the Emperor's angels.
"Not to mention their combat experience," Jannif continued. "Their marksmanship is adequate, but their swordsmanship is terrible, and they have pitifully little experience in close combat."
"More importantly, they never fought in the Great Crusade, never witnessed the Hrud's entropy fields, never stood against the Orks'
charges."
"In a real fight, these veterans turned raw recruits probably wouldn't last a single round."
"But what worries me most is their will to fight." Priest Jannif's tone suddenly grew grave.
"Dantioch, you should know perfectly well that the battle ahead will leave us no chance of survival. These recruits, only recently transformed from mortals, probably aren't prepared at all."
Dantioch nodded in agreement. Those were precisely his greatest concerns.
Although this fighting force that had appeared out of nowhere had greatly bolstered the loyalists' strength,
warriors who lacked systematic training and unit cohesion could hardly be considered qualified Space