Evan stood before the great conference table and formally opened the meeting. For the first time in history, the Lamenters' bad luck had not spilled over onto us. Cause for celebration indeed. The Main Force's big shots took the opportunity to gather.
It was now year 195 of the chapter era.
After the Drukhari incident, we had only a hundred men left. The warriors Anthony sent also totaled just a hundred.
Ordinary Astartes did not harvest a second gene-seed, so after their fifth year of neophyte training and surgery, they were put through hell. We did harvest it, so only after ten years, when they entered the Eleventh Company, did we start putting them through hell.
With supplies from the Adeptus Mechanicus and our own stockpiles, we could fully armour three hundred neophytes. The second batch of four hundred, together with the eighty-odd highly magic-resistant warriors we had just taken in, could also be fully armoured using the five hundred suits Anthony had supplied as Imperial aid.
That made eight hundred newcomers.
If we counted from William's disappearance, we could add the hundred Imperial reinforcements Anthony sent and the hundred warriors we had wheedled out of Lian Leilo.
Over thirty years, the Chapter had drawn on the reserves and contingency measures accumulated over the previous hundred and fifty years to replenish its ranks with nearly a thousand men.
Nearly two hundred had died in the Drukhari incident. In other words, Evan's directly commanded force now consisted of two hundred veterans and eight hundred neophytes.
Never mind their poor combat effectiveness, inadequate training, or utterly unremarkable gene-seed. They were still Primaris Astartes wearing power armour.
But there was no armour for the next five hundred neophytes.
And please note: we did not recruit in batches every ten years. There was no