Choices, Epilogue

So, the final post of Choices. Sisters Part 1 is coming up next.

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“What troubles your mind, Ankelion?”

It was a fair question from the Captain-General.

Ankelion stood upon a golden rampart overlooking the greater Imperial Palace, the vast, continent-spanning and majestic halls of his Master’s home arrayed below and around him, stretching to the horizon and beyond. After his return to Terra, he had sought out the stretch of gleaming wall to gaze out from, to think about his past actions and reflect. When he visited that wall, his memories often brought him back to those dark months at the end of the Heresy, when the maligned forces of the traitor Primarchs and their Sons wrought ruin upon His works.

The rampart had an unfortunately special place in Ankelion’s twin hearts. It was there he had first beheld the traitors and their dark masters, now more than ten standard millennia ago. So few of the Brotherhood remained who had been alive in those days, had borne witness to those dark months. The Brotherhood of old had held the Primarchs in contempt and had seen them as failures. Many of his Brothers still did. Yes, some had proven otherwise, but the rest? The rest had utterly failed. Where nine of His sons and their legions had stood by the Master of Mankind, nine more had turned against him. And time and again, the Astartes proved that they were unworthy of Him, for one reason or another.

But it was also on that same wall that Ankelion had first met him, His most loyal Son.

The first person Ankelion had ever failed, even before his Master.

“You ask a difficult question, Captain-General Valoris,” Ankelion answered. “But you are right, honored Captain-General. I have been troubled, as of late.” Ankelion’s helmet was off, resting on the stone railing of the rampart. In the absence of his spear, he carried only his misericordia, its scabbard lashed to his armor. The damages that had been wrought by the arch-traitor against his armor had yet to be repaired, the panopoly yet to be fully restored to its previous splendor. It was a task a part of him looked forward to, weeks of careful and laborious work in quiet solitude. There was also the matter of his Paragon Spear, now half a galaxy away and frozen in perpetual time, a traitor ran through on its blade for eternity. It too would have to be reforged and replaced.

“Yet your most recent mission was a rousing success, I must say.” The Captain-General moved to stand beside him, his gauntlets resting on the railing besides Ankelion’s. “A chapter on the verge of collapse, saved at the last hour by their reinforcements. A world brought into the Imperial fold. You even got a battle out of it, something that normally never bodes well for a torchbearer fleet.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Ankelion’s expression darkened. It wasn’t a battle, for the most part. More of a slaughter against those monsters. He’d ended the Lamenters’ crusade, personally. At the moment it had seemed the logical course of action, albeit one that was… unconventional. Most of his Brethren would have likely done as Tyvar had done to the Brazen Drakes, judging them for their treason on the spot. “You read the reports, Captain-General? Regarding these Sons of Sanguinius and the world they found?”

“I have,” he replied. “Much of what is there is… concerning. The world they found for themselves certainly is a unique find. But that isn’t what troubles you, is it?”

“No. It’s what else I found there that troubles me.”

“This psyker you spoke of?”

Ankelion recalled the brief month he spent there between putting an end to the traitor and his departure, all the while ensuring the Lamenters’ Primaris reinforcements were smoothly integrated into their ranks. Compared to many other Chapters, the Primaris were practically welcomed with open arms. Ankelion was privately relieved that it had gone so smoothly despite the initial misstep, and no doubt the Lord Commander would be as well. Still, five companies was perhaps the largest single reinforcement he knew of. Larger formations were simply formed into new chapters entirely.

In between ensuring the transition, Ankelion had also personally taken stock of the contents of the witch’s vast library, as well as her personal notes and journals found during a sweep of her fortress. The story the collection told was one that would have disturbed Ankelion, had he been able to feel fear or understand betrayal. It was a story of a woman who was untold eons old, who had seemingly been betrayed by beings that called themselves gods. His Master had sometimes spoken of an age of his early life, before the calendar the Imperium used had even begun. The implications of the dates of those oldest tomes? She would have been that old at least, truly predating human history as the Master of Mankind did.

More than once during his journey and return to Terra, Ankelion wondered if he had simply been lucky in defeating the witch. How had someone so old been so comparatively weak, compared to his Master? Compared to him, even?

“No, not a psyker Captain-General,” Ankelion answered. “That witch I fought was something… worse.”

“As bad as what lays within the Cells below?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

The Captain-General said nothing to that. Neither of them spoke for a long moment before Trajann broke the silence. “Indecisive? Do you question your decision, Shield-Captain? To allow them to take custody of her, where remanding this person into our custody may have been the wiser option?”

Not allowed, he had all but ordered them to. If the stasis field of her impromptu prison ever failed, she would return, again be free to wreak havoc on that world. At least with an Astartes presence there, her actions would be greatly hindered until she could be re-contained. “No,” came his response. “That witch was dangerous, but space in the Dark Cells is valuable. The Lamenters can contain her, I believe. Although…”

“Although?”

“I question if I am biased, if anything,” Ankelion admitted. The day he’d allowed his first and only friend he’d ever made to go to his death alone, to face a Brother who had betrayed them all, he would never forget it. It might have been why he was partial to the Sons of Sanguinius, a chapter that had lost their father in their darkest hour.

“Ah.” A beat passed in silence. “You were at the Angel’s side, were you not? The day the Traitors breached the Palace walls.”

“I was,” Ankelion spoke. “And I was the last among my company still standing. He demanded that I fall back to aid our fellow Brothers elsewhere, to shore up other defensive positions. I did so, reluctantly. For a day and a night, he fought a legion on his own. And then not long after, he went to a battle he would never return from.”

“Another question, Ankelion,” and Trajann turned to look at him in the eye. “Why was it you asked to helm the torchbearer fleet destined for their Chapter?”

“Because I wanted to judge them myself,” his answer came readily. “The High Lords found them wanting, yet offered them a second chance. Some of us thought it was a foolish decision, that the Lamenters were beyond forgiveness for siding with traitors, even if they had been deceived. I wanted to see how right or wrong they had been, If those sons of his were deserving of Guilliman’s offering and forgiveness.”

“And did you find the answer you sought?”

“Yes.” Ankelion picked up his helmet, putting it back on. “I found heroes.”

“Heroes?”

“It’s something I’ve come to understand about the galaxy, the universe,” The Shield-Captain spoke. “We are a people beset on all sides by a million foes. Only through the weight of His inexhaustible armies are the enemies of Mankind held at bay. But to whom does Mankind look up to, Captain-General Valoris, beyond the Emperor?”

Ankelion turned and stepped away from the rampart. “Heroes,” he said. “That was what I found on that planet. For a thousand years they stood against that immortal foe, before his angels ever arrived on its surface.”

To his surprise, Trajann chuckled. “Ankelion, it should be you in my office, not me.”

The words made him seize for just a millisecond. “No,” Ankelion replied back. “It is not something I think I could ever earn.”

“To the contrary, You more than have.”

Ankelion thought about his words. “Maybe in another thousand years, Captain-General. And maybe after I win a Blood Game or three.”

“Maybe. But you have your own affairs, Captain. Don’t let me hold you. And it was nice talking with you again.”

Ankelion nodded and departed, leaving the rampart behind him. The Captain-General was right, he still had things to take care of. The affairs of his Shield-Company, as well as the repair and replacement of his damaged and lost equipment. The thoughts about the Lamenters and the world they laid claim to fell to the back of his mind as he focused on other tasks.

He had work to do.