752. Ambush (2, 4k)

Some things could not be described with precision. They were fragments of the spiritual, existing only within some aspect that transcended the mortal world. Some people were lucky enough to catch hold of them. Others were not.

Cato Sicarius was among the former.

He walked out of his room empty-handed, without even wearing his masterwork Power Armor. The Glyph Array had dismantled the masterwork Power Armor by some method he could not understand at all. Now, that precious suit of lordly armor stood quietly in a corner of his room.

But that was fine too. Sicarius rarely wore ordinary clothes, so rarely he had almost forgotten what it felt like. Experiencing it again, picking that feeling back up, was not a bad thing.

Although the Astartes were already fundamentally different from ordinary humans in physiological terms, he still did not regard himself as a superior guardian angel.

The interior of this special ship was composed of pure silver and sharp white, and everywhere he looked was astonishingly clean. Sicarius was almost unused to it. There were no statues at the corners, no murals on the ceilings, and no stained-glass windows or heavy tapestries bearing the Glyph Array and Ultramarines emblems.

There were barely any people in the corridors either, which fit his idea of the Black Templars perfectly. These Astartes, famed throughout the Empire for their fanaticism, basically only dealt with the Inquisition and the Sisters of Battle. In other words, they only dealt with fanatics like themselves.

Normal people had little value for conversation in their eyes, and over time, the image of the Black Templars had become ever more mysterious and rigid.

That was not a good thing. Staying too far from the people for too long would create a crisis of trust.

The Ultramarines had never had