I Want to Become Your Blade

"I have already given them more than enough time."

"Those foolish Boeotians are testing my patience. The Imperium has no more time to waste on this pointless squabbling."

"Tell those fools: submit or die. There will be no third option!"

The commander of the Thousand Sons at the head of the group saluted the Emperor, then boarded the shuttle and departed.

The fighting at the front was growing increasingly desperate, and all the newly established Legiones Astartes had been sent into battle.

The Emperor was about to board his gunship when he suddenly heard a voice behind him.

"Father, are you leaving again?"

Every gaze turned toward the voice at once. The Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence, who were used to the sight, took it in stride, but quite a few Astartes recruits looked over before hastily averting their eyes.

A boy in white robes stood there looking at the Emperor. Beside these demigods, he was so small that he did not even reach a Custodian's chest.

Looking awkward, the Emperor walked over and knelt on one knee before the boy. Only then could he come close to meeting him at "eye level."

"My child, war has broken out in the west again. For humanity's sake, I have to go this time."

"It's all right, Father." The boy gave him a radiant smile.

The Emperor felt guilty, but he did not know what to say. After struggling for words for some time, he merely stroked the boy's head, then turned and left.

"Have a safe journey."

The boy watched the golden ship rise from the ground, then swiftly disappear beyond the horizon.

This boy was Bona, an unremarkable, ordinary human who looked so weak that even a single Astartes could casually crush him to death.

Yet to protect this "ordinary human," twelve Custodians and eight Sisters of Silence followed him around the clock. Even when Bona returned to his room to sleep, two Custodians went inside to watch him.

Without so much as blinking.

"Your Highness, please return inside."

"All right, all right, you big corn cob."

The passing Astartes troops inexplicably slowed for a moment, then hurried away as though fleeing.

One or two Astartes even collided, producing a metallic clang.

The accompanying Custodians could only resign themselves to it.

Ever since His Highness had seen an ancient Terran crop called "corn" in the archives, he had insisted on calling these Custodians, who refused to divulge their names, "Big corn cobs."

The Custodians accompanying him had been trying to correct Bona's choice of words ever since.

Although... it seemed more like another way for Bona to protest being forbidden to go outside.

Adeptus Custodes

Bona glanced at the departing Astartes troops, then headed back inside.

"Big corn cobs, how did you get so tall and big?"

"They were clearly mortals before. How did they suddenly become so powerful?"

The Custodians did not answer. They simply walked on in silence.

"Then can I undergo that genetic surgery or whatever it's called? Like those Astartes and Thunder Warriors?"

"No!"

This time, the silent Custodians spoke in unison.

They exchanged glances, communicating in an instant. The Custodian beside Bona carefully crouched and lowered his head, trying to speak to Bona as closely as he could.

"Your Highness, you are already the very best. You do not need any genetic surgery."

"But you're all so tall and big..."

"That is because we must carry out the tasks His Divine Majesty has entrusted to us and defeat all manner of vicious enemies. That is why we underwent genetic modification surgery."

Bona stopped and looked at this big corn cob, determination showing in his eyes.

"Everyone, every single person here, from big corn cobs like you to ordinary people donating money on the street, is doing their part for humanity."

"But I..."

Bona spread his arms.

"I sit here doing nothing, like a flower in a greenhouse. All I have to do is stay here. I can't do anything."

"I can't even bring people happiness and blessings like a flower, because I can only hide behind all those walls."

The Custodian, who had still been trying to say something, was left speechless. More precisely, he had no idea what to say.

Because he himself did not understand why the great Emperor had deployed such a formidable guard to protect a...

Mortal.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but these are our orders."

Bona stared at the Custodian, at these big corn cobs, with a faintly angry expression.

His good upbringing kept him from saying anything, however, and he simply strode back inside at a petulantly brisk pace.

Though to the Custodians and Sisters of Silence, it probably only meant taking slightly longer strides.

During the Unification Wars, the Terran techno-warlords entrenched across the planet were the Emperor's main opponents.

Malcador set down his pen and looked at Bona.

Bona was clearly distracted today. He was not usually like this.

"My child, what's wrong today?"

"Grandpa Malcador, I want to learn to fight."

Malcador was a little surprised, but he still responded with a kindly smile.

"Why is that?"

"I want to help Father a little."

Malcador gently stroked Bona's head.

"There are many ways to help your father. The soldiers killing enemies on the front lines do so in one way, and the staff keeping things stable behind the lines do so in another."

"But I still want to learn. Those big corn cobs watch me every day as if they're terrified I'll fall down the steps and crack my head open."

Bona, who had been slumped listlessly over the desk, sat up, anger showing on his face.

"Grandpa, do you know what happened? Once, I saw a child who had broken his leg in a fall, and I wanted to help him."

"But those corn cobs grabbed me and ran as if they'd seen a ghost."

"Tell me, does that make any sense?"

Malcador kept smiling.

He had thought of a good approach.

"If you want to learn to fight, I can recommend someone."

Bona immediately perked up.

"Who?"

"Malak. Even among the Adeptus Custodes, he is a highly skilled warrior."

Bona brightened at once.

He had seen what these big corn cobs could do firsthand. During one combat demonstration, a single big corn cob had easily beaten a hundred mortals to the ground.

"Great! Thank you, Grandpa Malcador."

"Heh, heh. But..."

Bona's heart rose into his throat.

"Whether Malak teaches you combat techniques is not something your grandpa can decide."

"Grandpa, can't you just order him to?"

Malcador gently shook his head.

"My child, they are not our subordinates. They are our friends, friends who share our ideals."

"If you want a friend to help you willingly, you do not use orders. You use sincerity."

"So I cannot help you with that."

Bona nodded, only half understanding.

I have to win Uncle Malak over with sincerity so he'll teach me to fight.

"All right. I will follow your advice."