"Was it an illusion?"
In his daze.
Fugerui, a Black Templars attendant, gazed at Sigismund's Black Sword, which he guarded within the Chapter.
It was the legendary Black Sword wielded by Sigismund, First Captain.
Like the other holy relics, it had always been kept in the Chapter's most honored place, awaiting the day it could be brought onto the battlefield in The Emperor's name. This time, after receiving the news, they had chosen to bring these relics with them. Perhaps they could accomplish something in this war.
He had no other task. He bore only one responsibility: to guard it.
To protect it with his life.
The legendary black blade stood there quietly.
He could feel the honor it displayed from ages past. It was as if he were bathing in the boundless glory of the High Marshal.
Though it stood there like a piece of history on display.
Its mere existence could inspire the entire Chapter to fight. When he had become an attendant charged with guarding holy relics, he had heard all the tales passed down from the Great Crusade.
Unfortunately, he would never witness those stories with his own eyes.
Before him, Lieutenant Bernt of the tactical squad he was close to bid him farewell.
Those Black Templars warriors would board the Battle Barge and march forth for The Emperor.
And he, too, was carrying out an honorable duty for the Chapter.
He did not believe his task was much easier than theirs.
Lieutenant Bernt and several of his squadmates bade farewell to their dear friend who guarded the relics. So long as the holy relic was aboard, they could unleash their combat strength to its fullest.
The Primarch and the High Marshal were watching them.
They had to win.
Bernt boarded a Battle Barge.
Their mission