The Lawman: Chapter 3

The Makings of Great Men

Standing atop the ruined remains of a mighty fortress, a great angel gazed upon the destruction his children had wrought on this world. With the light shining from the raging blaze dancing against his golden armor and his wings soaked in the blood of his enemy, the lonely angel looked every bit of an avenging angel from the legends of old. After what he had brought upon this world? He might as well be.

Here he stood, having brought judgement upon these wretched souls. Where once was a thriving capital, only ruins and the cries of the broken remained. Once great towers toppled, statues dedicated to their glory brought low, and once verdant gardens ablaze as the horrors of war once again claimed another worlds

While some would grow sickened at the sight, all he felt as the city burnt around him was the cold satisfaction for he had delivered justice upon the wicked. "Bloodthirsty savages, every last one of them," He whispered as he walked down from the mountain of skulls that had once served as the fortress foundation.

He had set out from the moons of Baal to bring more worlds to the Imperiums fold. He had his regrets, having to break nations upon his knees, but there were worlds where he would see reason had lost all meaning. Clutching his sword, he grimaced as he swung without passion, bisecting as they tried to sneak up on him.

He had offered peace, yet he was met with war. Gazing upon the wretched soul, he was watched as they clung to life with almost unnatural tenacity. With mouth frothing with blood and eyes maddened with such hate, they dragged themselves forward while holding on to a detonator. "Blood for the Blood Go-!"

Slowly, he watched the light went out of their eyes as his sword layed buried between their eyes. Pulling back, he flicked his blade as he walked, spilling more blood upon the red soil of this world. What madness had he stepped into?

All this bloodshed, all this needless destruction, what terrible waste they were. While most nations would have broken from these terrible losses, this world relished in the wanton slaughter. It was as if they took perverse pleasure in death. No man should take joy in such carnage.

"And yet you did," A voice whispered, making his blood run cold.

Turning back, he watched as the bisected corpse spoke, "You speak of Justice, and yet here are, having slaughtered countless in your blood war." No man should have lived through grevious wounds, and yet, they laughed. "Do not lie. You enjoyed it, the rush of watching life fade from a man's eyes-!"

BLAM!

Breathing heavily, he stared at the corpse, watching it closely as it once more lay still. Lowering his bolter, he whispered wearily, "I'm starting to hear voices where there aren't. I need to rest." It had been weeks since he had last taken more than a minute of sleep. Even he had his limits and this campaign had pushed him well beyond his.

Still, those poisonous words lingered in his mind. Did he really enjoy having his hands soaked with the blood of the countless lives he had taken? Was he nothing more than a bloodthirsty killer? Gazing down on his hands, he wondered.

"No, I am no butcher," He whispered, clenching them as he marched on, crushing the broken remains of their bloody warmachines as he seeked his men. He would soon find his them having set up camp now the fighting had largely died down.

While most rested, having slept as they stood still, guarding the camp, others he would find tended to the precious few inhabitants that hadn't lost themselves into the madness. "So, there are survivors," He whispered as he felt his spirit sour.

As he approached the camp, the guards stirred, reaching for their bolters before recognition flashed in their eyes. "Lord Sanguinius!" The Company Captain greeted them as they knelt before him. With the camp alerted of his presence, both Astartes and civilians knelt before him.

While his son looked at him in reverence, the survivors looked at him in fear. Glancing at his bloody armor and sword, he could hardly fault them. He must have looked quite terrible. "There's no need to fear me," He reassured them with a smile, "Now that this world has been liberated, there will be no more innocent shall have blood spilled on its streets. You have my word."

Almost immediately, the mood in the camp shifted as the survivors burst into tears, prostrating before him as their savior. It would take some urging from his men, before the survivors were herded away back to their camps.

Taking a deep breath, he asked wearily, "How goes the search for the envoys?" Glancing at the blood soaked steps of the temple at the distance, he grimaced.

He could still remember vividly how his envoys were taken, bound and captured, before they sacrificed them upon their profane temples. It was a mistake to trust them, but he had hoped, he had always hoped for there was good in all men. These were not men however, but monsters in human cloth.

Shaking his head, his captain replied through gritted teeth, "We couldn't find them. They're simply too many…" The mountain of dead away from the camp was proof enough.

With a pained grimace, he looked away. Even in the death throes of this bloody empire they denied him peace. Even if his men were to consume every last drop of blood, he doubts they'd ever find them in the sea of memories. "Burn it all, every last drop. Leave nothing behind," He ordered, "I want this place to be forgotten."

"It will be done my lord," The Captain replied, their eyes hardened as they set off to do the grizzly deed of disposing of these monsters. There would be no feast for there was no battle to begin with, just a simple extermination of beasts. Nothing more, nothing less.

Turning the camp, he instructed, "Have the Engineers from the Auxilia construct a temporary camp away from the city as well" Even now, the city wasn't quite safe.

He frowned as he heard gunshots echo in the distance, "We will have much work to do before this city is safe to inhabit." While he had promised clemency to the innocent, the same can't be said of the monsters who had taken countless slaves from this region to spill blood to their profane temples.

"I'll call upon the general," His captain replied, "I'm sure that the Solar Auxilia would welcome the distraction from all the bloodshed."

A worthwhile distraction, he could certainly use one. Sitting down upon the rubble, he felt the weariness settle upon his shoulder once more. It's been decades since he had taken the mantle of a conqueror and yet the work was not yet done, it was never done.

For every hundred peaceful worlds, there were charnel houses that his legion had to go through; Every noble deed, there were hundreds of battles to be fought. "Do you think we'll ever finish my fathers crusade, Amit?" He asked as doubt reared its ugly head once more.

"We will for the Emperor wills it," The Captain of the 5th Company replied bluntly as he joined him, sitting across from him, "But even if we do, I doubt we'd ever find peace."

"We are bred for war and there will always be wars to be fought," His son reminded him, making Sanguinius frown. As much as he wanted to say otherwise, his captain's word rang true. There will never be lasting peace as something would always threaten it.

"And so, we will fight on without end," He whispered, dreading the blood soaked road ahead. Was this going to be all that he will do? Was all that he was meant to be was to fight and shed blood without end? Why must they fight?

"For it is necessary," His captain answered, catching Sanguinius' attention. Glancing up to his captain, he listened as the man spoke with conviction, "For every drop of blood, sweat and tears we shed on one battlefield, we bring peace to a thousand more." They did not fight for war's sake, but to win the peace.

"We fight not because we want to, but because we must; For the good of mankind," The man reminded him before giving him a wry smile, "So perhaps it's best you leave the lamentation to the poets and scribes amongst the Remembrancers."

"You do have a way with words Amit," Sanguinius smiled back, feeling the weight upon his shoulder lifted. They were not merely warriors and soldiers, but peacemakers as well. While he found no joy in fighting, it was a necessary evil to keep the peace, something he must never forget. "Where would I ever be without you?"
"Probably joining your brother, Lord Curze," Amit fired back, earning a chuckle from the angel. As blunt as the man was his words, they spoke true. If only they were just a bit less violent.

Glancing towards the man's boots still slick with blood, he asked, "So, what brings you over? Weren't you supposed to be clearing the crypts?" While not as treacherous as a Hive City, this world sported quite the number of underground labyrinths. They intended to drag the fight and Sanguinius cursed them for it.

"The corridors are currently choked with the dead," His captain shrugged, making Sanguinius grimace. Ironically, fighting an enemy all too happy to throw bodies at them made the fighting sporadic as there were simply so many dead that they were momentarily blocked from each other.

"While the Mechanicus make themselves useful," His captain replied as he reached for his back, "Might as well make myself useful by helping my Primarch."
"And so you are," Sanguinius snorted as his eyes settled upon the sealed scroll the man handed to him.

"I've come bringing good news," The man replied before frowning, "Or terrible news. It's hard to tell." That certainly sounded ominous especially with the seal of the Emperor himself pressed beside the of the Astropathic House attached to his legion as well as the Sigilite's. Only letters of the highest clearance sported such marks and to see all three were often reserved for rare occasions.

"I hope you weren't reading my letters," He replied, grabbing the letter and unsealing it, "I wouldn't want to censure you again, Amit." While he valued the man's presence, even he couldn't ignore such an act.

"Even I wouldn't dare risk censure from the Emperor himself, my lord" His captain replied before standing up and turning away towards the horizon where the shuttle from his flagship descended down just outside the city. "Now while I haven't read the contents, the look on the Astropath's face was all I needed to know that something important had just arrived."

Such was the consequence of having living messengers he supposed. As advanced as the Imperium was, they were still reliant on the Abhuman houses of the Astropaths. It wasn't all too hard to discern the nature of the message depending on the expression of the messengers. They were not cold unfeeling machines after all.

"I've never seen them so happy, conflicted and confused at the same time," His captain voiced his concern as he frowned, "Baffling to say the least."

"Concerning even," Sanguinius muttered as he stroked his chin. The last time he had a letter such as this was seven years ago when his father rediscovered his brother, Corvus Corax. Still, why would the Astropaths be confused? Shouldn't this be a cause of celebration?

"Well, we'll never find out what it says if we're just going to stand here and stare at it!," He shrugged as he unscrolled the fine velum, "Now let's see…" As his eyes laid upon its contents, he smiled. Just as his captain suspected, the Astropath delivered good news and such good news were.

"So the rumors were true," Sanguinius whispered excitedly as he stood up, "Another brother of mine had just been found!" All but one of their brothers remained lost, and soon they will be all reunited; He could feel it. His celebration would be cut short as his eyes found the summons by his father.

"Wait, there's more," He muttered as he read on. Why was his father asking him away from the battlefield? He was needed here in the front, where he could better direct his sons. He had planets to bring into compliance and a campaign to finish.

His frustration would soon give way to confusion however as he read on. "No…" He whispered, eyes narrowed as he reread the reason why he was being recalled, "This can't be right." Surely this was just a mere jest, but a part of him told otherwise.

"We don't… we'll no one have tried before, but-! Surely this is just a mistake." How could something like this happen? "How!?" He shouted, unsure on how to process all this. He knew there was a possibility, but this was just something else.

"My Lord?" His companion asked in concern, "Is something wrong?"

Unable to hold it in, he blurted out, "I'm an Uncle!?" Perhaps he should have shared this in private as everyone in earshot turned to his direction. Wincing, He turned away from the surprised gaze of sons and those in the camp.

Thankfully, the Sigillite wasn't around to hear this. He'd probably get an earful…

-x-x-x-
On the other side of the galaxy, a certain old man felt a disturbance in the warp. "God damn it," Malcador cursed as he gazed up from his cup, "Have I not hammered the idea of Operations Security in that boy's skull?" Given how a couple of Astartes and Remembrancer now know, he did not.

Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he sighed. It seems that he'd have to give that boy a full lecture on the matter, but not before he dealt with another round of holes to patch up. The feathered bird brain wasn't the only one to be informed. He and his brother were as well.

In hindsight, that might not have been the wisest decision, but it did deal with other problems down the line especially with more fragile egos. "Sometimes I wonder if I am dealing with more than just two children." He muttered. Oversized children, all of them!

"Did you say something Mr. Malcador?" Morrison asked as he looked up from the wooden frame that he was currently working on. What the man needed him for out here in the future site of the Eleventh Legion's training ground was beyond him.

While he was powerful, he would be no help here. He was no carpenter nor was he a master mason. He would only get in the way and it was as if the man wasn't lacking with helping hands. The people of their Primarch's hometown had gathered in force, working together to build them with massive timber imported from a nearby star system as Carcan was devoid of tall trees.

Even without their help, the Primarch alone was more than enough as he lifted up a section all on his own. Still, the man was polite enough to ask and so he came.

"No, it's nothing," He replied, waving the man's concern off as he took a step aside to let one of the workmen bring the Primarch some freshly made nail, "And please, call me Malcador." Never did he know that the day would come that he wanted a Primarch to be less polite. "You're making an old man feel older with that outdated honorific."

Strange as it may be, he welcomed it all the same. It was quite refreshing not having to deal with fragile egos for once. After taking a sip of the wonderfully brewed coffee that the man's wife made, he asked, "Now how might I help you?"

"I do hope that it doesn't involve more lessons for your daughters," He jested, glancing towards the house over at the distance, "While they're quite gifted, they're also quite the pair of hell raisers." He wasn't sure if he wanted to be proud or angry at those two.

Thankfully for his health and already frayed peace of mind, it wasn't. "Oh no, nothing of that sort," The man chuckled as he picked up a log and measured it, "Besides, I've already asked a lot especially after I pulled you from more important matters."

"Nonsense," He replied as he hid his smile behind his cup, "Helping shape the next generation is just part of the parcel of ruling a successful realm." While the current needs of the empire were important, so too was ensuring its future. He was just making sure that there won't be any problems down the line.

Draining his cup, he let out a satisfied sigh before he asked, "Now, where we're we?" He had children to teach and he didn't have all day. The time he had in this farm was fleeting and he would soon go back to Terra and it would be some time before he could get the chance to meet the girls again.

"Oh right," The man asked as he snapped his finger before he laid down his hammer and sat down on the log. "If it's not too much to ask, I need your help," The man asked, "More specifically with how to train my Legion."

"Ah, so that's what this is for," He mused to himself as he found uncertainty in the man's eyes. "Haven't you trained your Lawmen yourself?" He replied as he gave him a questioning look, "From what I've seen, they're quite capable on their own."

His friend had sent him to verify his son's words and he had seen plenty enough. While they were less than he had hoped for, they were still far more than he expected. They had their flaws, but nothing more time and experience couldn't fix. They were certainly impressive enough with what they could face. He was half tempted to take some for his purpose.

"If you can turn mortals into beings capable of fighting those who lurk in the shadows," He replied, "Then training your legion wouldn't be much of a problem." His lesser brothers shaped their Legions well enough so he could do so with ease.

"While I appreciate your confidence, old man," Morrison replied as he stroked his chin, "I have a feeling that training my sons would be an entirely different matter."

"They've already fought countless battles across hundreds of worlds," The man frowned, gazing around at the training grounds they were breaking ground for, "I'm not sure if what I know would be enough for them."

"So old timer, got any tricks and tips you can throw at my end to make them ready for what's to come?" The man asked, "Surely you've fought your fair share and certainly far more than I have in my short life.

For a moment he stared at the man before he laughed. Wiping tears from his eyes, he mused, "Now isn't this something, one of his sons who lacks the pride of his brother's." The man had always been full of surprises, but they were more than welcomed.

"Is it wrong to ask for help when they know jack shit?" The man questioned as he sported a wry, self-deprecating smile on his lips.

"No, no it is not," He replied, smiling back at the man. "It's good to see that at least a few of you know when to swallow their pride," He confided. If only some of his brothers had as much sense as the man before him then most of their problems wouldn't have cropped up in the first place…

"I take it the other is the Hydra…" The man chuckled, "Or is it Sanguinius?"

He gave the man a pointed stare before snorting, "Both actually." Those two had always been his favorites not because of their abilities, as capable as they were in what they were made for, but because of how easy it was to work with them. "Though both do still have their egos," He admitted.

"I can only imagine," The man replied as he shook his head with mild amusement.

Grinning back, he stood up before gesturing to follow him as he walked away from the construction site. "Now come along. Let's take a walk around the facilities you're building while we discuss how to turn your sons into a legion that would be worthy," He called out as the man got up and trailed behind him.

As they got out of earshot of the workers, he glanced back at the Primarch. "Oh one more thing, do keep my student a secret," He warned, making the giant man glance away sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. Good, he knew when he messed up.

"I'm keeping him a surprise for later," He scolded. While Morrison would serve as the Emperor's shield against the darkness, his other students were to be their eyes. Grinning once more, he teased, 'I wouldn't want to have my other student think that he'd need to tie some loose ends."

This earned a laugh from the Primarch. "Good one old man," The man sighed before he frowned at the smile that still remained on his face. "You're joking right? He's not here is he?" He asked as he looked around, suddenly on alert.

"Who knows," He shrugged, "Maybe he's already lurking in the shadows. Your realms' borders are quite porous you know?" Oh the twentieth was still in the Cracan Prime right now, but the man didn't know that, did he?

Walking a bit faster, he kept shut, refusing to elaborate. "Come on Mal, I don't have to watch my back now, do I?" Morrison asked as he ran after him, trying to get an answer from him, but all he'd get was laughter. "Let's talk about this!"

-x-x-x-

Eventually, he caved in, telling Primarch that his brother wasn't on the planet. He had his share of fun, now it was time for business. Sitting under the shade of the few trees that the planet had growing on its surface, he discussed the future of Morrison's Legion.

"Now tell me Morrison," He asked, "What separates a man from a Space Marine?" Waving a hand, he willed the warp to stir, shaping the dust into an effigy of the man's legion. The Eleventh Legion, or more affectionately known as the Head Hunters.

While to many, they were a legion of violent thugs, to the enemy of the Imperium, they were terror incarnate. Much like their brother legion, the Night Lords, they were skilled in inspiring fear in the enemies with the macabre habit of tearing limbs, and most often, heads as their armor often sported. Even those that were sane were often shunned for the very dread they inspire; a sharp contrast to the calm that Morrison exuded.

"Is it the blood in their veins," He asked as he showed the man visions of his children's deeds, "The armor and weapons they are armed with or the skill they had accrued from a lifetime of training and battle?" He left nothing out, letting him see them for what they were; Monsters, Tenacious beasts that refuse to bow down from a fight.

Faced with this darkness, the man frowned, yet he did not flinch. Gazing up at him, the man answered, "It is their fight in them; their Will."

"Yes, exactly," He nodded, "It is their will that sets them apart from mortal men." They were his finest warriors and they exemplified the very trait that had defined humanity for ages. They were the best that man had to offer.

"Whether by choice of their own or from circumstances beyond their control, it is by their will that they survived it all," He told him, "The harsh training, the grueling surgery, and the battles they have fought, all of it by the grit and determination in their hearts." From mortal men they are forged, hardened by the fighting that defines their very life. They were warriors in every sense of the words and only warriors at heart could survive a life.

"It is why even with careful selection of aspirants and the best medical care the Imperium could offer that the survival rate remains slim," He noted grimly, "What use would be all the gifts they possess if they do not have the will to fight on."

It was not for the lack of trying that they couldn't perfect the method for their mortal frame was not designed to handle such power imparted by the organs implanted inside them. They could have made a lesser form, but for the war that was the future of humanity, they could not make compromises. They had to be made of iron or they were not fit for the task.

"This will they possess paired with their bodies and their arms is what makes them such a formidable force," He added, "And it's perhaps their greatest weakness."

"Why is that?" Morrison asked as he gave him questioning looks. He could understand why. Surely such willpower couldn't be all bad, but it had its drawbacks.

"They can be stubborn bastards," He replied wryly, making the Primarch snort. "The glory they won over the years can often blind even the best of them," He noted. A veteran of countless wars indeed. "They have survived where lesser men faltered so why should they change how they are?"

"Which makes them harder to train," Morrison grimaced as he stroked his chin. They were old dogs whose habits had long set in.

"This is why I would have preferred a fresh stock," Malcador shared, thinking of a future that never was. His and the Emperor's Knights, their last gambit in an unwinnable war. "But not everyone has the luxury for such an endeavor." If Morrison wanted to have an easier time, then there was one clear action at hand, and yet Malcador saw in his eyes the same old stubborness in his children's eyes.

"I will not abandon my children nor the Lawman I have trained," The man declared, "Even if it takes me the entire war, I will bind them as one."

"And I would have been disappointed if you did," He smiled, satisfied with the man's answer. "Wasting such experienced men would have been stupid after all," He replied. The only reason why his possible future could have thought of starting from scratch was if he had nothing. Right now, they had everything. "And that is why we must use this very weakness against them."

As the man raised a brow in question, Malcador chuckled, "Do you think these warriors would falter if you gave them a challenge?" Just as determination got them here, so too shall it become the instrument that helps them to reshape.

"These are hardened soldiers, they can take the abuse. Break their pride, make them remember that they are mortal once more," He explained, "Push them till their bodies start to fall for they will not be fighting men, but monsters." No dog was truly too old to learn new tricks, the only problem was having the will to see through it to the end.

"It is only when they let go of their beliefs of their superiority can you build them up back once more and make them your Lawmen," He concluded as Morrison nodded in understanding.

"Push them to their limits huh?" The man mused before a wide grin slowly stretched across his face, "I think I might have something."

"Good," Malcador chuckled, "It'd be amiss of me to have the one line primarch to swallow pride and ask for my help to fail in their endeavor."

While there were many tricks of the trade to train an Astartes, making them be pliable enough to be trained once more was more important. What was the use of all these lessons if they were going to be ignored? Best their pride and body be bruised than have them be buried under six feet of dirt.

"Oh you won't be disappointed," The man replied as he shot up to his feet and ran towards the farm, leaving Malcador alone under the lone tree in Morrison's farm. "I just need to check if I have enough cattle for this!" The man shouted as his form quickly shrank in the distance.

"Cattle?" He asked, confused by the man's need for beef. What did livestock have to do for training his Legion? Shrugging, Malcador got up as well. Well he did his part. Best he observed the training for now just to make sure things go well. He did have a few months left on his schedule.

A/N:

Finally, free from this chapter. I'm really sorry it took this long, but after a few rewrites, I finally slayed this beast. I am now satisfied... and I could move on and oh boy that's a lot of back log I need to finish. Wish me luck