Dark Crusade (24): The Roboute Guilliman They Spoke Of

Bert Roboute Guilliman)

Hector Kargio didn't like the planet they lived on. There were many reasons, and he could go on and on for minutes if he were asked to give examples, but he knew in his heart that it was just displaced anger.

Forced to leave Calth, extinguish the sun, and then crash-land in this primitive and backward world.

All of this weighed heavily on his chest like the Rock. Moreover, before the cold warship known as the Night's Soul had even dissipated, remote sensing mapping and orbital observations indicated that this place was merely a medieval area.

This means that the early colonists who arrived here likely failed to complete their mission, otherwise the world would not have become so wild and uncivilized.

Kargio understood that this was not good news; they would likely have to stay here much longer to build a signal transmitter that could contact the surrounding world, otherwise they would not be able to leave this world at all.

This is a matter worth examining—how could a world controlled by colonizers have degenerated into what it is today?

He strode out of the camp. They had arrived yesterday morning, and only a day had passed, yet the area around the camp had already undergone tremendous changes.

People were busy at work in the trenches, on the Autocannon positions, and on the rudimentary transport lines. Auxilia and civilians alike were participating, working in the sunlight wearing emergency-made and distributed goggles, continuing to dig trenches and transport freshly cut timber.

Inside the camp, machinery roared as various facilities were being established. Soon, this camp would become a fully-equipped combat center.

Kargio wasn't worried that they would encounter any problems in this regard.

The Tech-Priest of Calth have encountered all sorts of strange things over the past ten thousand years: eccentric Cogitator malfunction automatically, Servitor suddenly turn into Daemon in cloning slots, and safety incidents where everything seems fine during inspection but a missing screw causes a mechanical failure.

If he had to pinpoint a problem, the Chapter Master of the Calth's Sons now only has one thing on his mind.

Orks.

It is shameful to admit, but the Calth's Sons have never actually fought against this Xenos.

He walked to the outer edge of the camp, where a giant stood deep in thought. His scarlet armor reflected the sunlight, making it particularly dazzling. Two giant axes lay diagonally at his feet, their surfaces dull and lifeless, with a faint, dark red gleam visible at their edges.

Kargio stopped a few steps away from him, not daring to approach any closer. Over the days, he had become quite familiar with the Night Lords; they were similar in some ways, but also vastly different in others.

For example, the Crimson Claws are completely different from the Shadow Knights.

Shadow Knights typically maintain absolute silence in battle, uttering no battle cries. Their blades emerge from the darkness, and most enemies are killed in a single strike without even noticing their arrival.

The Crimson Claws are quite different. They are extremely ferocious in battle, and roaring is a common occurrence. Kargio has even witnessed them deliberately cripple enemies without killing them immediately, instead dragging them along in the darkness, using the megaphone inside their helmets to amplify the sound across most of the battlefield.

Of course, these are all differences in details. If he had to choose the most obvious difference, Kargio would say it's appearance.

Take, for example, the man before him, Skaradrik Chapter Master of the Crimson Claws. Most commoners, upon first seeing the Highlord's face, wouldn't even recognize him as human—excessively pale, with barely visible fangs.

These two qualities alone are enough to inspire fear, not to mention the cruel savagery he possesses. Even Kargio often felt that the Great Lord was more like a dangerous, bloodthirsty beast.

In comparison, aside from his often furrowed brow and gloomy demeanor, the Shadow Knights' Chapter Master Kaul Sahora seems to have nothing intimidating about him.

Kargio coughed lightly, banishing these irrelevant thoughts from his mind, and nodded to Skaradrik, who had been silently watching him.

"Your Majesty," he began solemnly, "I would like to inquire about your reconnaissance activities."

Skaradrik nodded calmly, his lips curving slightly downwards, giving him a somewhat gloomy look.

"There's not much to say, just a few cities captured by the Orks. However, judging from the traces, the Orks on this continent have begun to unite, which means that once our gunboats track them down, war will begin. Considering their numbers, this war won't be easy, and they will inevitably evolve during the war."

Skaradrik stopped speaking, his expression becoming even more sinister. Kargio understood him; he had read a lot of information about Xenos, including those about Orks.

They are undoubtedly an extremely dangerous type of Xenos, numerous, powerful, and possessing strong self-healing abilities. Furthermore, they can achieve technological leaps in incomprehensible ways at an incredibly fast pace. Without a doubt, none of this is a good thing.

He briefly fell into deep thought, his mind now firmly occupied by the idea of war— the Calth's Sons had never fought against Orks before, they needed to accumulate experience in this area, and therefore this matter had to be taken seriously, and he had to lead by example.

His thoughts were so focused that he failed to notice a Thunderhawk Gunship flying back from the distant horizon immediately, unlike Skaradrik, who noticed the obviously unusual flight trajectory right away.

He strode forward and quickly arrived at the designated helipad. Fifteen veterans of Crimson Claws, clad in Terminator Armour, emerged from the tarmac, escorting several terrified civilians. The stench of blood was overwhelming, clearly indicating that a massacre had just taken place.

Skaradrik glanced at them without speaking, and instead went to examine the engine of the Thunderhawk, which belonged to the Calth's Sons.

Upon inspection, he discovered that one of the Thunderhawk's three engines had completely failed, which made his face even more grim—after all, this Thunderhawk was borrowed.

But he said nothing, only turning his gaze to the leader of the squad. They began to communicate in the dialect of Cainril, the homeworld, the short, cold syllables sounding to the ears of the civilians almost like the prelude to an impending massacre.

They collapsed to the ground in terror, the men and women in their dirty clothes huddled together in panic, only a young child remained calm, or rather, seemed unaware of fear.

Skaradrik noticed him. He wanted to say something, but swallowed his words instead. He impatiently gestured to his squad and then stepped aside, obscuring the civilians who were rushing over, including Kargio.

"What's going on?" Kargio asked seriously. "Are these civilians?"

"Yes," Skaradrik replied with a hint of helplessness. "My squad discovered them during a reconnaissance mission. They were supposedly a group of refugees hiding in the wilderness, heading towards a city called Namas. When they were found, they had already been almost wiped out by a group of Orks; these are the last survivors."

Kargio lowered his head and looked at them. Like Skaradrik, he was also drawn to the child who was barely managing to remain calm. So he knelt down on one knee, intending to communicate with him in a more peaceful manner.

"Can you understand what I'm saying, child?"

"I understand," the child replied in a rather oddly accented High Gothic.

This brought a rare smile to Kargio's face. He softened his tone and asked again, "So, what's your name?"

"Al," the child uttered a simple word, more like a nickname or pet name. "That's what my mom calls me."

"So, the city you're going to— Namas, right? Do you know where it is?"

Seemingly encouraged by Kargio's smile, Al's trembling, which he thought he had hidden well, subsided considerably.

That's how children are; compared to adults whose mindsets are already fixed, they always possess more courage.

He answered Kargio loudly, "I know, it's in the east! That's what that bearded uncle said!"

"Uncle Beard?"

Al wanted to say more, but a pair of hands covered his head, protecting him.

A sallow-faced, emaciated man smiled at Kargio with a mixture of fear and humility, "Sir, master, he's just talking nonsense. He knows nothing."

"I know!" Al struggled to say. "That bearded uncle said he was a merchant, and he'd been to Namas! He said the lord there was tall and strong, generous and kind!"

The man held him even tighter, his smile almost faltering, "Sir, this child knows nothing. That merchant... he's more of a vagrant than a merchant; he sells shady things."

"We had no other choice but to follow his directions to Namas, and that's when we ran into the Orks. If it weren't for the intervention of you gentlemen, we would probably all be dead. So please don't listen to this child; he's still young and doesn't understand anything."

"I understand!" Al screamed in his arms. "I know my mother is dead!"

Kargio paused for a few seconds, then turned his question to the man, "And who are you?"

"I'm Al's teacher," the man said hastily with a smile. "My name is Daviel."

Kargio nodded noncommittally. He could tell the man wasn't telling the whole truth—or at least not entirely the truth. His High Gothic was fluent and clear, and even in this situation, he was thinking about protecting the students.

Such a person is extremely rare in a primitive world, so he couldn't possibly be just a simple teacher. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that, so he continued to press for answers.

What do you know about the city of Namas?

This time, it was the man's turn to fall silent. Faced with Kargio's serious gaze, he lowered his head hesitantly.

At that moment, Skaradrik threw a small, glittering ball, which landed perfectly in the arms of the crying boy.

It was indeed a small sphere to Skaradrik, but to the boy it was as big as his fist. It was hard for Al not to be drawn to it.

The boy reached out and picked it up, tried to squeeze it, found a small protruding corner, and then gently pressed it. In that instant, the ball suddenly opened up a small corner.

Then, a fragrance that neither he nor Kargio had ever smelled before slowly rose from it.

"Eat," Skaradrik said curtly, making a pouring gesture.

Al stared at him blankly for a while before doing as he was told. A brown ball rolled out of the opening and landed in the boy's hand.

He tried looking at it, smelling it, and then gently licking it; his eyes suddenly lit up.

He eagerly ate it, while his teacher exclaimed in horror, "Al--!"

"Let him eat it," Skaradrik said coldly. "It's called chocolate; it won't hurt him to have a little."

"But, sir..."

"Don't call me sir," the Grand Lord said, then turned and left. Kargio watched helplessly as he led fifteen Crimson Claws away, and resumed the conversation.

"Tell me, Daviel, what do you know about the city of Namas?"

The man murmured a few syllables, as if in thought, or perhaps in fear. Kargio noticed the hairs standing on the back of his hands, meaning he was truly afraid—so, why?

Calth's Sons narrowed his eyes. Why would talking about a city frighten him? He began to wait patiently, while observing Daviel's behavior more closely.

The latter had clearly noticed this as well; fine beads of cold sweat slowly rolled down his forehead, and the trembling of his thin body became increasingly noticeable.

Until a small hand placed a brown ball near his lips.

Daviel sighed helplessly, smiled nervously, handed the chocolate back to the boy, licked his cracked and dry lips, and began to answer Kargio's question.

"Yes, sir, we heard from that merchant that a miracle had occurred in Namas. He described it vividly, and it seems to be true. Although all vagrants have this ability, if what he said is true, then we are saved."

"Hope is the most terrible thing, especially when a person is in dire straits. Anyway, he said, one of the God-Emperor's sons has been born in Namas."

The God-Emperor? Could it be that this colony wasn't separated from the Imperium?

Kargio suppressed his shock, remained calm, and gestured for Daviel to continue.

"They say the one who has come is the Lord of Macragge, the great Roboute Guilliman."

A thunderbolt exploded in Kargio's mind.