The giant suit of golden armor strode at the head of the column.
"Ralph."
"I'm honored that you remember my name, Guardian of the Emperor."
"You're losing commanders too quickly. You've deployed too far forward."
To Dorn, the Crimson Tide's losses were not particularly severe, but far too many of their commanders had died.
"And what are you doing, then?"
Dorn stood at the very front of the line. Ralph had no doubt that he was doing it deliberately, walking faster than an ordinary Adamantium Warrior so that no other troops could get ahead of him.
"I mean combat units of the same type."
"We're used to shouting, 'Follow me!'"
That had something to do with how Ralph had survived this long.
When Khorne Daemons spotted Ralph among a crowd of Red River warriors with "absolutely no ornamentation," they naturally assumed he was the leader, preferring to charge him rather than fire indiscriminately.
Slaanesh's greed coveted the relics Ralph wore.
The daemons of Tzeentch and Nurgle made no distinction between high and low rank. One stayed in the rear flinging spells without a fixed target, while the other saw everyone as an enemy, regardless of status.
"If you consider commanders like us derelict in our duties, please think of us as commissars."
Ralph kept walking. Even after Dorn stopped ahead of him, he continued forward, slowly approaching the Primarch.
Dorn's Adamantium Armor was so thick and broad that it completely blocked the view of the warriors behind him.
A whole string of Crimson Tide Warriors followed behind, looking for all the world like chicks sheltering from an eagle behind a hen.
Dorn shielded the warriors from most of the daemonic attacks and corruption, protecting everyone behind him.
The Crimson Tide's cohesion had not deteriorated with the deaths of several commanders.