Reforged Regiment

When Alexander emerged from that grand hall once more, his expression was as calm as still water.

No one knew what he had discussed with the living primarch inside. But everyone knew that a tremendous storm was about to sweep through the Imperium's military structure.

Inquisitor Valerius and his cruiser, Words of Truth, had long since slunk away from Terra's orbit. The so-called investigation into Alexander's "suspected heresy" vanished without a trace, never to be mentioned again.

In its place came a highest-level decree personally issued by Guilliman, Regent of the Imperium.

[Commissar Alexander von Lawrence is hereby appointed a Hero of the Imperium. In the battle for Viridia Prime, he displayed unparalleled courage, wisdom, and self-sacrifice, serving as a model for all Imperial soldiers.

Though the 99th Regiment, "Cadian Pride," under his command was nearly wiped out in battle, the indomitable will to fight and absolute loyalty to the Emperor it demonstrated are sufficient to wash away all disgrace and reforge supreme glory.

Therefore, the designation of the 99th Regiment, "Cadian Pride," shall not be revoked. The regiment will immediately receive the highest-priority reinforcements of personnel and equipment from Terra itself. All surviving soldiers are promoted by three ranks. Its commissar, Alexander von Lawrence, is exceptionally promoted to Legion Commissar.

Upon completion of its reorganization, the 99th Regiment, "Cadian Pride," will officially join the ongoing Indomitus Crusade, attached to the Fourth Fleet battlegroup.]

When this decree, personally signed by the primarch, spread throughout the Imperium, all who heard it were stunned.

A second-line regiment that had been nearly crippled was not only spared disbandment, but granted the highest-priority reinforcements that even legendary founding Chapters could only dream of? A young commissar who had graduated from the Loyalty Academy less than a year ago was exceptionally promoted to Legion Commissar?

More importantly, they had been assigned directly to the core fleet of the Indomitus Crusade, personally commanded by Guilliman!

Countless speculations surged beneath the surface among the Imperium's upper ranks.

Everyone wanted to know exactly what that young man, Alexander von Lawrence, had said to the primarch. Had his mad, heretical-sounding ideas known as the "Hearth Theory" been purged by the primarch, or had they...

Received the primarch's... tacit approval?

No one knew the answer.

When he saw his "family" again, it was at Sleep of the Loyal, a military space station in Lunar orbit above Holy Terra, within a highest-level rehabilitation center specially prepared for them.

After days apart, the three hundred and fifty-one familiar faces had been completely transformed.

They were no longer dying wounded men. They wore brand-new gray training uniforms bearing the double-headed aquila, their patchy hair from burn injuries shaved away, the blood and dust washed from their bodies.

Most striking of all were the new prosthetics gleaming with cold metallic light.

Some soldiers had lost a leg, now replaced by precisely engineered piston-driven power limbs brimming with the Adeptus Mechanicus's brutal aesthetic. Others had lost an eye, their sockets fitted with multifunctional tactical visors that shimmered with streams of ruby-red data. One veteran whose face had been bitten away by an Ork had his lower jaw replaced with a heavy metal mandible, engraved with skull insignias marking his kill count.

Every one of them was like a work of art shattered by war, then reassembled by the most efficient craftsmen with steel and wire, their bodies carrying the cruel, powerful beauty of a post-human age.

They were no longer purely human.

When Alexander appeared before them in a newly tailored black Legion Commissar uniform, his left arm replaced by the savage and powerful Punisher Type VII combat prosthetic, the entire rehabilitation center fell deathly silent.

Then, three hundred and fifty-one bodies of steel and flesh straightened with all their strength. Three hundred and fifty-one arms, some flesh and some metal, rose in unison and offered their sole spiritual leader a flawless salute filled with fanatical devotion.

"Elder Brother!"

The uniform roar, like grinding steel, echoed through the vast rehabilitation center.

Alexander smiled and returned the salute with his metal left hand.

"Welcome back to the ranks, soldiers."

"ROAR!!!"

The soldiers hammered their chests with iron fists, their altered vocal cords crying out their hunger for war and glory.

But just as this celebration among "family" reached its peak, a cold and ill-timed voice came from the doorway.

"Silence! This is an Imperial military facility, not a barbarian's gladiatorial arena!"

Everyone turned toward the sound.

A man stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark green Imperial officer's uniform so crisp it looked cut by a blade. Behind him stood two adjutants in matching dark green uniforms, their faces wearing the arrogant expression of people who believed themselves superior.

The officer was around forty, tall and sharply featured. His hair, fixed in place with pomade, was so immaculate that not even a fly could land on it. His chest was nearly too full of medals to hold them all. He wore a pair of spotless white gloves and held a silver baton symbolizing his authority to command.

Everything about him radiated an elite rigidity and arrogance that did not belong here, born from a military aristocratic family with a thousand years of history.

He was the newly appointed military commander of the 99th Regiment, "Cadian Pride"—Colonel Valerius Karsten, a pure traditional Imperial soldier from the Mordian Iron Guard.

Colonel Karsten frowned as he inspected the bizarre soldiers before him with a critical, even disgusted gaze, as though they had been assembled from scraps in a junkyard.

When his eyes finally settled on the young commissar standing at the center of the crowd, with a savage steel arm and an amused smile on his face, his frown deepened.

He had long heard of this "heroic unit's" exploits, and had also read the post-battle report on the Hearth Theory.

In his eyes, this was not an army at all, but a pack of deranged lunatics bewitched by cult ideology. And this young commissar before him was the most dangerous, most insane cult leader among them.

"You are Commissar Alexander von Lawrence?" Colonel Karsten marched up to Alexander with regulation-perfect steps. He did not salute, merely looked down at him appraisingly.

"I am your new partner, Colonel Valerius Karsten. By order of the Regent of the Imperium, I have come to oversee the military affairs and daily training of the 99th Regiment." His tone was filled with impersonal coldness.

"Welcome, Colonel." The smile on Alexander's face did not diminish in the slightest. "Welcome to our... warm family." He placed deliberate emphasis on "warm" and "family."

The corner of Colonel Karsten's mouth twitched despite himself.