838.M30
Talassar System, Talassar Prime.
It was one of humanity's earliest colonies after leaving the Sol System.
Along the vast ocean's edge, humans built their first settlements upon rugged cliffs. Over thousands of years, these outposts grew into mighty industrial cities. Deeper inland, colonists used terraforming technology to establish endless stretches of farmland.
The House Sicarius was one of the great noble houses, owning nearly 490,000 square kilometers of farmland. Only the nobles who ruled over the industrial cities surpassed them in wealth and influence.
Yet now, Lord Ron Sicarius, the current head of the family, was in dire straits.
The relic armor crafted by the artisans of Old Terra that covered him was scorched black. His sword arm felt increasingly heavy, and sweat dripped from his brow, tracing down his cheek.
He lowered his left shoulder, eyes locked on the tall, shark-faced alien charging toward him.
Ron knew he couldn't match the two-meter-tall creature in brute strength. His only chance was to strike at its weak point.
As they met, he drove his knee forward and swung his longsword in a powerful arc, piercing the water canister on the alien's back.
During months of desperate defense, Ron had discovered that the aliens' greatest weakness lay in those canisters, vital to them as oxygen was to humans.
A jet of water blasted across Ron's face as the xeno's blue body convulsed violently, like a patient in the throes of madness, before collapsing heavily into the wheat fields.
Wiping his face with his arm, the cold water jolted Ron's senses awake. He looked around.
Members of the House and their guards were locked in desperate combat with the xeno invaders.
Then his gaze froze, his eldest son, Jay, had been shot through the head by an alien bullet. A fine red mist drifted in the air.
At forty-two, Ron had survived countless pirate raids, but now he forced himself to suppress his grief. Rage was secondary; his duty as patriarch came first.
"Fall back into the underground caverns!" he barked coldly.
Thankfully, their ancestors had foreseen disaster. When terraforming the region, they had preserved the natural cavern systems beneath the mountains.
The retreat was written in blood. The alien' explosive munitions and energized blades tore through men and machines alike. Loyal retainers and guards fell one after another, turning the golden fields red.
"Father!" cried Wellington, Ron's fourth son. His armor had been split open by an alien sword, and the energy field had burned a gaping wound in his chest.
"We should use the ancient weapons once we reach the caverns," he said hoarsely. "It'll take only seconds to wipe those aliens and their ships off the surface!"
"No!" shouted Matheus, the second son, blocking him. "Those energy weapons would destroy all of Talassar! The people on the surface, our own vassals, won't make it underground. Everything we've built would turn to ash! The planet's ecosystem would be ruined beyond repair!"
While speaking, Matheus spun his blade in precise movements, piercing the water canisters of several aliens. His golden hair streamed in the wind; he was the family's finest swordsman, trained from childhood.
Ron's expression hardened. He had made his decision.
"We will not use the energy weapons. Not unless there's truly no other choice. We won't turn our home into a wasteland."
"We'll defend the house's honor. Use the tunnels. Fight for every inch of ground!"
He knew this decision would cost countless lives, of his family and his people.
'How long will this struggle last?' He wondered bitterly. 'How many will survive when it's over?'
Then, Matheus suddenly shouted: "Father! Look to the sky, light!"
Ron turned. Countless streaks of light were descending like meteors, hundreds of them falling all around.
"Aliens! Take cover!" he roared. The skies were dominated by the enemy; these lights had to be another alien weapon.
The House Sicarius and their guards sprinted toward the nearest cavern entrance.
But before they could reach it, one of the lights crashed down directly in front of the entrance.
A hiss of pressurized air filled their ears, the sound of a landing ramp opening.
From within stepped a squad of towering warriors in black power armor, each as tall as the aliens they had fought.
The leader carried a staff crackling with light.
Ron stared. The giant's face was not shark-like; it was human, though vastly larger than any man's.
Before they could react, the giant raised his staff. A violent gale formed above his head, then crashed downward.
Ron's heart seized. They had no time to dodge.
But the storm struck behind them.
Matheus turned back and saw a raging tempest engulfing the pursuing aliens. Shards of ice fell from the sky, shattering their water tanks and skulls alike.
"They…" Matheus breathed, "they're here to save us?"
Ron raised a hand. "Stay cautious."
The other black-armored giants began slaughtering the aliens, while the staff-bearer strode toward them.
He pressed a device at his throat, and a deep, unfamiliar voice emerged, close enough to their tongue to be understood.
Nine minutes later, the storm-caster, identified as Nicholas, a psyker of the "Shadows of Order" Legion, found the right dialect of Low Gothic.
"What? You say you're the head of the House ?" Nicholas blinked in surprise.
Before the battle began, the Storm Lord had relayed an order from their Gene-Father: all units encountering locals should seek out the House Sicarius.
Nicholas didn't know why their Primarch cared about these colonials, but he trusted that their Father always had a reason.
"You and your house will come with me," he said.
"This…" Ron hesitated. "Thank you for your aid. House Sicarius will offer a hundred million tons of grain in return."
"No need for alarm," Nicholas replied with a smile. "This is a blessing for your house. You're about to enter an age of golden prosperity."
Half-escorted, half-compelled, Ron and his kin boarded the black transport. On the way to the city, Nicholas explained everything.
They were Astartes, warriors of the Legion known as the Shadows of Order. Their Gene-Father, the Primarch Nareth, had taken special interest in the House Sicarius.
Ron didn't know how this "Lord Nareth" had heard of them, but relief washed over him.
When they landed, he was brought before the Storm Lord himself, the commander of the 9th Chapter. On the warrior's right pauldron shimmered the emblem of a blue ocean wave.
"My lord," Ron bowed, "the House Sicarius is forever in your debt."
"Ron Sicarius," the Storm Lord said. He too didn't know why the Black Emperor valued this family, but he trusted there was a purpose yet unseen.
"You'll fight beside me," he ordered. "Tell the people of Talassar: we came to save them. From this moment on, Talassar stands under my Legion's protection."
"If you perform well, you'll become Planetary Governor. You'll rule this world in my stead."
Ron's eyes widened in disbelief. Fortune had fallen from the heavens, literally. Though the House Sicarius was noble, they had never rivaled the great city-ruling dynasties.
Now he was being offered dominion over them all.
'It could only be because of Lord Nareth's favor. Without it, the Storm Lord would never have chosen him.'
"Praise be to Lord Nareth," Ron said, bowing deeply. "I will not disappoint you, my lord."
Energy filled his weary limbs; his eyes burned with renewed fire.
He followed the Storm Lord into Trent, Talassar's greatest industrial city.
Ron was about to warn him that the aliens' weakness lay in their water tanks, but the Storm Lord was already upon them, sidestepping a powered blade and driving his sword into a canister.
Water burst out. With a gesture, the Storm Lord seized control of the liquid, sending it whipping through the air,
Boom, boom, boom!
Each jet struck another alien, bursting their tanks in a chain of detonations.
The Sicarius warriors stared wide-eyed.
'They just arrived… and already know the aliens' weakness?!'
Matheus watched the Storm Lord wield water like a weapon and thought: 'If only I could wield such power…'
Then he saw another captain, Jorginho, raise his hand and unleash a similar ability, killing a dozen more aliens.
'So this must be a gift from Lord Nareth himself,' Matheus realized. 'If he values our house so much, perhaps one day I, or my descendants, might serve him, and gain such power as well!'
Emboldened by the thought, Matheus surged forward, slashing another alien's canister open and shouting to the terrified Talassarns:
"Don't be afraid! The black-armored warriors are our saviors!"
"They are the Shadows of Order, the soldiers of Lord Nareth!"
The Storm Lord, seeing the House organizing the civilians with calm precision, nodded in satisfaction.
'As expected, the Sicarius are capable people,' he thought. 'That one, Matheus, his swordsmanship rivals that of a trained Vostroyan noble.'
The aliens' weakness proved fatal to them. The 9th Chapter of the Shadows of Order swept through the planet with ease.
Fifteen days later, the Storm Lord officially declared that the Saharduin pirates had been destroyed.
And in that same proclamation, he announced that all of Talassar would henceforth be under the protection and governance of the Shadows of Order, and that Ron Sicarius would serve as the planet's first Imperial Governor.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu