98. The Return of the Lamenters (3)

Guilliman stood inside the separate port Terra Space Station had specifically set aside for the Lamenters and straightened his collar. Unlike the paintings and sculptures of him, he was not wearing armor, but the simplest civilian clothes.

Simple though they were, the gold trim and patterns still gave them sufficient solemnity.

Needless to say, he was waiting. The Victrix Guard followed close behind him, each of them standing ramrod straight—they had heard Guilliman tell the story of the Lamenters before coming here, and had been deeply shaken by it.

Ask yourself honestly: if you had suffered all that unjust treatment, could you still have remained so loyal?

No one could answer that question, and so they decided to give the Lamenters the highest level of respect.

At last, after more than fifteen minutes of waiting, the top of the port slowly opened, and a battlecruiser entered sluggishly. Its weather-beaten surface had clearly gone without maintenance for a very long time. Large patches of mottled scars covered it, and many of the Gothic cathedral spires had even snapped off completely.

Guilliman pressed his lips together. From the walkway at the side, they could see all of it clearly. The special field inside the port meant they did not need to enter the room to take shelter when it opened, and could instead see the ship even more directly.

He knew its name: Mater Lachryma.

The weeping mother.

It came to a steady halt. A side hatch opened, and nine Astartes in yellow-painted armor walked out. The one leading them wore no helmet, revealing a face filled with excitement, confusion, and remorse. He held his helmet in his left hand and a gleaming golden battle standard in his right. A golden teardrop slowly swayed upon it.

Guilliman walked forward.

"A pleasure, Chapter