77. The Fake and the Coward (Part 1)

The familiar feeling came back.

Saul Tarvitz thought.

He stood amid a stretch of scorched earth, with the other sixty-two Emperor's Children around him. Ships roared over their heads, many Blood Angels aboard them waiting to strike. But it was not their time yet.

Though every craft had its specialty, the Emperor's Children did not believe their combat strength was inferior to that of the Blood Angels. Unfortunately, there were only sixty-three of them now—what could sixty-three men do?

Saul Tarvitz had an answer to that.

"Exactly the same as before."

A voice came from behind Saul. The Respirator Grille altered his voice, turning what had originally been a cheerful tone into something utterly terrifying. "We are the vanguard again, Captain. Always are."

"Are you pleased by that, my brother?" Saul asked without turning his head. He did not need to look back to know who had spoken.

"Ha!"

The man let out a ringing laugh and came before Saul, his weathered MK3 Power Armor clanking with force as he moved. He raised a hand and struck the Double-headed Eagle on his chest, his tone immensely proud.

"Naturally, my Captain!"

He laughed heartily, elegant High Gothic tumbling out one line after another. "Such honor cannot be handed over to those juniors for no reason. We are the Emperor's Children! Of course, if you could explain our mission to us in detail, that would be even better, Captain."

Beneath his helmet, Saul Tarvitz could not help but smile as well.

His brother Antrik had always been like this, never knowing how the word danger ought to be written. That confident optimism had inspired all of them countless times at the brink of life and death.

"Our mission is to act as the vanguard and reconnoiter this place's environment. There is no