Two days later, within the planned timeframe, Alexios and his brother finally neared the sea. The salty, damp air blowing from the coastline was a novel sensation for the two brothers, and it slightly diluted the grief of their cousin's death.
Ahead, they could see the boundless blue ocean, and in the sky, a few figures circled.
Lycurgus pointed to the sky and said, "Look, the eagles of Zeus. They are watching over us on behalf of the King of the Gods."
Alexios's eyesight was better. He knew they were not eagles, but vultures. He just didn't want to tell his brother. He'd see them soon enough anyway.
A short while later, they finally reached the coastline. It was then that the brothers noticed three other boys on the beach. They were building a large raft, which was nearing completion.
And all around them, the bodies of seven or eight other boys lay on the ground. Vultures were greedily pecking flesh from them, tilting their heads back to swallow.
Lycurgus was curious. "Why are there so many bodies?"
A voice, slightly hoarse from puberty, came from the side. "Because they all wanted to steal their raft."
The two brothers immediately turned towards the sound, on high alert.
From behind a large boulder on the coastline, a boy emerged. He was rather small and slender, with yellowish, fluffy hair. He wore a coarse linen tunic and worn leather armor. A trident was strapped to his back, and two javelins were tucked into a carrier on his belt.
He ignored their wariness and continued speaking to himself. "Those three built that raft. A few other groups saw it was almost finished and came to steal it. After all, stealing is easier than building."
"But none of them succeeded. Those three are good fighters, especially the big one in the lead with the two-handed axe. He killed several of the guys who tried to rob them. Looking at his build, he doesn't look like he's under 16 at all."
"If you're thinking of robbing them, you'd best not. The other two are no weaklings either."
Lycurgus retorted scornfully, "An axe is just a woodcutter's tool. The two of us could take all three of them."
Alexios remained on high alert and asked probingly, "Then why are you telling us this?"
The boy shrugged. "I'm probably heading back anyway. Just giving you some advice. The Angels never said you couldn't just walk back home."
Alexios smiled knowingly. "And what about your teammates?"
The boy continued, "Dead. One was bitten by a poisonous snake in his sleep. The other was killed while we were building our raft. We lost the raft too."
"When there were two of us, we could still put up a fight. Now it's just me. I can't build a raft, and I can't defend it."
Alexios saw through him. "You want to join us, don't you? After all, the Angels only said three people to a group. They never said you couldn't form new groups."
"But you're not a Lacedaemonian, and you're small and skinny. Taking you with us doesn't seem to have any benefits."
The small, blond boy's spirits lifted. "That's not necessarily true. Look at my trident. I was born by the sea. I learned to swim before I learned to walk. For me, steering a boat and handling a sail is second nature. I'm guessing you Lacedaemonians are probably seeing the sea for the first time in your lives."
"You dare to insult a Lacedaemonian warrior? Are you looking to die!?" Lycurgus was enraged.
But his brother stopped him with a raised hand. "So you think we should take you just for that? We know what the journey entails, and we've learned how to row."
The blond boy was amused. "Row? I can see you know nothing about the sea. You'll work yourselves to death trying to row to the Angels' Sanctuary. Have you prepared a sail? Or are you going to rely on those red wool cloaks? A single storm would turn your cloaks into a pile of wool."
Alexios thought for a moment. It was true, three was better than two. And this boy said he grew up by the sea. From his linen clothes, corroded by seawater, and his sunburnt skin, it seemed likely enough. The next part of the journey was by sea. Having an experienced person with them would make things much smoother.
Alexios made his decision. He stuck his spear in the ground and extended his right hand. "My name is Alexios. This is my brother, Lycurgus. We are both Lacedaemonian warriors. You can join us, but you have to listen to me."
The blond boy happily shook his hand. "My name is Gorgias. I'm a fisherman."
And so, the team was three again. They didn't intend to steal someone else's raft; they would build their own.
The three of them went to the forest by the sea to select timber. When they found a grove of fir trees, the two brothers took out their axes to chop them down, but Gorgias took out several wire saws from his pack.
When they had carried the logs to the shore and were about to tie them together with vines, Gorgias again demonstrated his superior knot-tying skills. During a break, when the two brothers took out their protein ration bars, Gorgias found some shellfish and seaweed in the sea and made a stew. This made the two brothers' opinion of this Emperor-worshipping heretic change for the better.
The three of them worked hard to build the raft. At the same time, they searched for and stored fresh water, finding a source and filling the plastic folding water tank from their packs.
Gorgias also showed off his specialty. He caught many fish by the sea with a hook and line, gutted and cleaned them, and smoked them to make dried fish.
A few nights later, after another day's work, the three of them gathered around a campfire, eating berries they had picked and drinking a stew of fish guts and other seafood. The raft was almost finished. If they could just raise the mast tomorrow, Gorgias would hang the canvas sail he had hidden, and then they could set off. Things were moving in the right direction.
Gorgias took a sip of fish soup and said, "The group with the axe left three days ago. Lately, I've been seeing figures in the distance from time to time. We're facing the same problem they did: the raft is almost done, which means someone will come to steal it."
Alexios was quite calm. "This was to be expected. We just have to hold out until the raft is completely finished."
Lycurgus said proudly, "Let them come. My bow will make them regret it."
Gorgias sighed, feeling the two of them were overly confident. "In any case, tomorrow is the crucial day. If we can't defend it, we're dead. Even if we do, trying to go to sea on a raft like this is a long shot."
"You two should get more sleep tonight. After all, you're the more professional warriors. We'll be relying on you tomorrow."
Just then, Alexios noticed on the hillside behind his brother, silhouetted against the starlight, there did indeed seem to be a figure watching them.
If they dare, Alexios thought, let them come. The warriors of Lacedaemon will turn them into pincushions with our spears.
...
The sun rose as it always did. On the raft by the sea, Alexios was chipping away furiously with a chisel in his hand, while Gorgias, with his nimble fingers, was rapidly tying the spread-out canvas to the mast. His brother, Lycurgus, stood guard with his bow.
Unsurprisingly, the enemy soon appeared. A group of boys approached them from both the left and the right.
Facing these marauders, Lycurgus simply drew his bow and waited. He didn't have many arrows left. He couldn't afford to fire rapidly for suppression; he had to make each shot count. Seeing this, his brother also picked up his shield and spear and stood by his side.
Just as the enemy came within range, a single arrow flew through the air and struck a boy in the neck. The youth collapsed to the ground, an arrow protruding from his throat.
This was a common mistake among the aspirants. In order to reduce weight, carry more supplies, and be more agile, they would wear only leather or cloth armor, or even no armor at all. The two brothers, on the other hand, had only discarded their pauldrons and greaves; they still had their full bronze cuirasses and Corinthian helmets.
Two more arrows were fired, but they were blocked by the enemy's shields. The attackers were now using their shields to cover their torsos; it seemed they had learned their lesson. But Lycurgus didn't care. He nocked his last arrow and fired, striking one of them in his exposed lower leg.
The enemy was clearly stunned, not expecting a marksman among them. But it no longer mattered. Lycurgus had to drop his bow and draw the Lacedaemonian war-blade that had belonged to his cousin.
It was obvious that the two attacking groups were also wary of each other, neither daring to be the first to charge. The three sides were locked in a stalemate. Finally, the group that had already lost a man could wait no longer and charged forward.
But their close-combat skills were clearly inferior to the two brothers'. The attackers, armed with short swords and javelins, were simply slaughtered.
The other group, however, shrewdly filled the gap and immediately joined the fray. One of them, a boy wielding two swords, was incredibly agile, his blades constantly hacking at Alexios's shield, forcing him on the defensive.
This left Lycurgus to face two opponents alone. Fortunately, he had already shot one of them in the leg. The boy was limping badly and could hardly help his teammate.
Alexios continued to threaten his opponent with his spear tip, maintaining distance and waiting for an opening. The dual-wielding boy suddenly rushed in from the shield side. As the saying goes, "the shorter the weapon, the greater the risk." He wanted to close the distance and get inside the spear's effective range.
But in an instant, the dual-wielding boy felt his footing give way and he fell to the ground. Alexios had stuck out his leg and tripped him. It was a wrestling technique, and the Lacedaemonians were skilled wrestlers. His cousin had taught him this trick.
Before the boy could get back on his feet, Alexios thrust the weighted butt-spike of his spear hard into his face.
After dispatching his enemy, Alexios immediately turned to his brother. Lycurgus had already split the limping boy's head open. But the one with the sword and shield was giving him trouble. Lycurgus's arm and thigh were wounded. In fact, he had taken several blows to the chest and abdomen, but his cuirass had saved him.
Alexios twisted his waist and, with a surge of strength, threw his spear. It pierced through the last boy's leather armor, pinning him to the ground.
Alexios ran over, pulled his spear from the corpse, and asked urgently, "How much longer?"
Gorgias, tying knots at a frantic pace, didn't even look up. "Five minutes. Just five more minutes."
The timeframe did not sound promising to Alexios. Four more groups were approaching, and his brother was wounded. The fight ahead would be even tougher.
As the four groups drew closer, the good news was that two of them started fighting each other. But the remaining six were not to be underestimated. The two brothers stood their ground and engaged them. Alexios raised his shield and lunged, but an opponent's hand axe slammed into his Corinthian helmet.
Alexios heard a loud 嗡, and his helmet vibrated. He was about to counter with a shield bash when he saw the enemy's face get pierced by a javelin.
It was Gorgias. The little fisherman had stopped his work and joined the battle. He had accurately thrown his only two javelins, killing one of Alexios's opponents and piercing the thigh of Lycurgus's.
He took the trident from his back and went to help Lycurgus. The small heretic was a better fighter than he looked. He used his trident to parry a spear thrust aimed at Lycurgus and steadily pushed his opponent back.
At that moment, Alexios caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye and felt a wave of despair. The two groups that had been fighting had a winner. One group had only one survivor, who was retreating, while the other three, though wounded, were now charging towards them.
More importantly, two more groups were approaching in the distance. These boys wore red cloaks, Corinthian helmets, and bronze armor. They were also Lacedaemonian warriors.
Alexios had no time to think. They had to finish off their current enemies as quickly as possible. Everyone in his group was injured.
The three boys who had won their previous fight were now charging at them. Just as they were about to reach them, several whooshing sounds cut through the air, and all three of them fell to the ground. Several Lacedaemonian-style javelins and throwing spears had pierced through them. It was the Lacedaemonian warriors from the distance.
Alexios, Lycurgus, and Gorgias could only grip their weapons tighter. All they could do was defend the raft.
The six warriors slowed their pace and walked towards them. The one in the lead took off his helmet. "Your Highness."
Alexios realized he knew him. He was the son of a reserve officer under his uncle.
"Maximus? What are you doing here?" Alexios felt a bit dizzy, whether from blood loss or the blow to his helmet.
Maximus replied, "We are here to help you, Your Highness. We have not forgotten what the king did for us."
Alexios and Lycurgus finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Then what about you?"
Maximus puffed out his chest. "It is better to return in shame than to have the blood of our own people on our hands."
Alexios nodded.
Maximus then pointed his spear at Gorgias. "Your Highness, we can replace him with one of our own."
Gorgias was shocked to hear this.
But Alexios shook his head. "I have already made a promise. I must keep it."
Seeing this, Maximus said no more. He ordered his men to gather the supplies from the dead and give them to the prince.
In the sky above, in the Storm Eagle gunship, Anthony asked Peter, "Captain, doesn't this count as cheating?"
Peter, his eyes fixed on the screen, replied, "Anthony, strictly speaking, almost no one isn't cheating. The ration bars they eat are made with Dark Mechanicum technology. So are their folding water tanks."
"The purpose of these rules is to test their will through the wilderness march, to confirm their bloodlust through mutual combat, to test their leadership and obedience through the three-man teams, and to test their adaptability and execution through the sea voyage. What they have just shown is unity, trust, brotherhood, and camaraderie. This is within the rules. In fact, it should be encouraged."
"What I don't want to see is someone with a mechanically-driven crossbow, wearing flak armor, and carrying the engine of a speedboat, passing the trial with ease."
Peter continued to stare at the screen. "I'm starting to like these Lacedaemonians more and more. They are brave, resilient, and brutal, but they have a sense of honor. They are perfect recruit candidates."
...
On the fifth day of their journey at sea, Alexios held the rope that controlled the sail, ready to follow the commands of the short Gorgias.
As soon as they had set out to sea, their command structure had reversed. Gorgias now gave the orders, and the two professional warriors obeyed.
Upon boarding, Gorgias had made them discard their helmets and cuirasses. These items would only take up space on the raft and would be of no help at sea. If they fell into the water wearing a helmet and cuirass, even if they were expert swimmers, it would be useless.
However, Alexios had kept his shield. He didn't want to part with it. His mother had given it to him before he left, saying, "Either come back with it, or on it."
Gorgias hadn't objected too much. After all, the shield was just wood and iron.
At this moment, Gorgias was fiddling with his old brass sextant. When he had first pulled the thing out of his pack, Alexios had nearly wet himself. He was afraid this device would disqualify them. But Gorgias had calmly explained that ships had been using these things long before the Angels arrived; it was hardly high technology.
Although Alexios didn't know what a sextant was or how to use it, the aged appearance of the instrument allayed his fears. Gorgias also said he had bought it at a second-hand market, and it had cost him nearly all his savings.
Lycurgus, meanwhile, was still staring intently at his fishing rod, hoping to catch something. Even if it was just another fish, fresh fish was better than smoked jerky.
There was one advantage to being on a raft: they had plenty of time. So, they started chatting to pass the hours.
Gorgias told his story first. He had indeed been born a fisherman, or more accurately, a sailor now. As the second son of a fishing family, by tradition, he had no right to inherit the family business. Besides, there wasn't much to inherit: a dilapidated house, a small, old boat, and a few tattered fishing nets. If the family's assets were divided with each generation, there would be nothing left.
So, his father had introduced him to the captain of a merchant ship to be an apprentice sailor. An apprentice sailor, besides the hard, tooth-chipping bread and watered-down wine on board, received only a few silver coins a month. It would take five or six years to work his way up to being a full sailor, who could then bully the new apprentices.
So, when he heard that the Angels were recruiting, he had left the ship without a word to the captain and used all his savings to prepare for this path of ascension. He was prepared: either he would become one of the Angels, or he would die an unknown death along the way.
Alexios and Lycurgus's story was much more ordinary. They were, after all, the sons of a king, so they never had to worry about their livelihood. But from a young age, they had undergone the strictest beatings and training, constantly being forged into excellent warriors and commanders. Their parents had always told them that although the kingship was hereditary, it was also contested between two great noble families. If a more outstanding peer emerged, they could be replaced at any time.
When the Angels announced they were recruiting, the elders of their family had immediately smelled an opportunity. Whether it was the mortal auxiliary army or the Angels' forces, if a family member joined, the family's future would be limitless. Thus, a large number of Lacedaemonian boys had flocked to this trial. He and his brother, along with their cousin, had set out with the honor of the royal family.
Unfortunately, they quickly ran out of things to talk about. Then came the jokes and stories. Whether they were funny or not, it was better than silence. Unfortunately, they soon ran out of jokes as well. Then, it was just the three of them staring at each other. Occasionally, they would move the sail this way and that, opening it halfway or fully, according to Gorgias's instructions.
Just as Alexios was lying down to rest his eyes, with his brother Lycurgus at the helm, he heard his brother and Gorgias talking.
"Hey, fisherman, what's that dark thing over there?" his brother's voice asked.
"What dark thing? Wait a minute!" Then came a sudden, startled cry from Gorgias.
"Damn it, it's over! That's a fucking storm."
Hearing this, Alexios immediately shot up and looked in the direction they were pointing. A massive, black cloud, laced with lightning, was bearing down on their small raft in the middle of the vast ocean.
Lycurgus began to panic. "Let's get around it!"
"It's no use. A storm like that can stretch for dozens, even hundreds of kilometers. We can't go around it."
"Then let's go through it."
"On this little raft? A single giant wave could capsize us."
"Why didn't you have us build a better boat?"
"You should have given me half a year."
Lycurgus was now completely frantic. "Sailor, use your invincible knowledge of the sea and think of something!"
Alexios snapped, "That's enough, Lycurgus! Stop bickering. Gorgias, what do we do now?"
Gorgias stared at the storm ahead and, based on his knowledge, replied, "There's nothing we can do but tie ourselves to the raft."
They quickly used everything they could find—vines, leather straps, even their cloaks torn into strips. They tied themselves to the raft as best they could, praying they would survive the ordeal.
But when their small raft entered the storm, they were still tossed about violently. One giant wave after another lifted them up and threw them down. At one point, Alexios even saw his brother's mouth open, the food he had eaten for breakfast flying into the air.
Just then, he heard a tearing sound from his waist. It was the strips of his red cloak, ripped from his body. Gorgias was right; wool was not a good choice against the corrosive seawater.
In the next moment, Alexios felt the world spin. Seawater poured into his mouth. He knew he had been thrown from the raft. He was now submerged, lost and helpless.
Alexios could only try to remember what his swimming instructor had said. You need to feel and practice... paddling with your hands, kicking with your feet... improper control... too early...
The knowledge his instructor had taught him was useless now. All he had learned was how to not drown in a calm lake. And now, this Lacedaemonian from the mountains was finally witnessing the might of Poseidon.
Just then, a figure from the raft leaped into the raging waves. He was as agile as a fish, swimming towards Alexios.
Suddenly, Alexios felt someone pulling him. He knew he shouldn't pull back. So, he just kicked his legs wildly, trying to give his rescuer some assistance.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the raft. His brother reached out and pulled them both back on board. Alexios collapsed, clinging to the wood for dear life.
Reborn, he had learned a valuable lesson: seawater is not good to drink, especially when you can't swallow any more.
Unfortunately, his shield had been swept away by the storm, along with their food and drinking water.
...
Peter and Anthony stood on the beach, watching the time displayed in their helmets, waiting for the last of the aspirants to arrive.
It was already dusk on the final day. He did not accept latecomers. This was why the trial was so bloody and strict; the warband's supply of gene-seed was limited, so a rigorous selection was necessary.
Even after multiple rounds of culling, over 100 aspirants had reached the still-under-construction fortress-monastery on this island. But they only had 40 gene-seeds, meaning more than half were destined to never become Space Marines. The Apothecary brothers would screen them. The best-case scenario for the rejected was to become high-ranking servants of the warband. The worst was to be converted into servitors.
Now, he was on the beach, waiting for the last group that could possibly reach the island, the only team to have survived the storm.
Anthony couldn't help but marvel. "Captain, it's incredible. The city-state of Lacedaemon, with a population of less than 300,000, has contributed over a third of the recruits. And their numbers only account for 3% of the total population, and that's including slaves."
Peter replied calmly, "It's not surprising. Their excellent training and mutual loyalty saw them through. How many aspirants on this journey argued over the distribution of food and water, held back in a fight for fear of injury, or turned back due to a lack of perseverance and unity? Such cases were almost nonexistent among the Lacedaemonians."
Just then, Peter's eyes finally caught a faint glimpse of a raft in the far distance. This was thanks to one of the Astartes' modified organs, the Occulobe.
This organ enhanced an Astartes's vision, allowing him to see farther and more clearly. He could see in low light and was more resistant to bright light, able to recover quickly even from a flashbang. For example, Peter was now staring directly at the setting sun, and he didn't find the light glaring at all.
Anthony also saw the three newcomers. "Captain, there's only half an hour left. Unless they can set foot on the beach before then, they'll be late. Those three are quite unlucky to have encountered the storm. Or perhaps, lucky enough to have survived it."
Peter replied, "It's fine. The time is not up yet."
Although it was very nearly up.
The two of them watched the distance, watching the three boys desperately paddling, fighting against the waves of the sea. With their efforts, the raft drew closer to the beach, inch by inch.
They paddled frantically. 20 minutes left. They felt an excruciating ache in their arms. 10 minutes left. The muscles in their arms felt as if they were on fire. 1 minute left. Finally, with their bones and muscles numb, they crawled onto the beach, gasping for air. Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps approached.
Peter looked at the three boys before him. A modified, deep voice came from his vox-grille.
"You are late. Two minutes late."
The three boys looked up and saw a towering steel angel. His silver-grey armor shone with the golden light of the setting sun, making him look like a pale-gold giant.
Alexios struggled to support himself with an oar, about to argue. "Lord Angel, we encountered a storm—"
"That is not an excuse," Peter cut him off.
Gorgias asked, trembling and hesitant, "Then... have we lost our chance?"
Peter looked at the three boys. He thought of his Primarch. He also thought of Captain Crassus. In truth, they were only late by 1 minute and 31 seconds. If they had jumped into the water and stood on the seabed, it would have counted as them having reached the island.
Peter made his decision. "I can give you a chance. The price is a corpse, a life. If two of you kill the third, the two spots will be theirs."
The three boys were instantly shocked. But then, the two brothers looked at each other. They were blood brothers. They could not possibly kill each other.
Gorgias, lying on the ground, silently gripped the small fish-gutting knife at his waist. He knew his chances were slim. They were all in the same exhausted state, but he was facing two Lacedaemonian warriors. He had to protect himself.
Alexios questioned the Angel. "We are comrades, brothers who have entrusted our lives to each other. How could we kill him?"
Peter replied mercilessly, "You were late. There must be a punishment, no?"
"It shouldn't be like this! This is not right! The Angels I know are glorious and proud warriors, not traitors who stab their comrades in the back!" Alexios roared. This was not what his parents and elders had taught him. Be cruel to your enemies, but never betray your comrades.
This was why the Lacedaemonians, despite occupying the most fertile land, possessing the most powerful city-state, and practicing a heretical faith, had stood for a thousand years.
Peter could see it. The two brothers had received the same education and shared the same values. The remaining variable was the small, blond boy.
"And what about you? What will you choose?"
Gorgias's hand had already left his knife. He replied calmly, "The priests of the Mechanicum said they would build ships of iron. Since I have already failed, I choose to become a sailor on an iron ship."
Peter nodded. This young man was very methodical. From his choice to participate in the trial, to his preparations, to joining another team after his own had died, and now, even after failing at the final hurdle, he had found a path for himself. He was at least more thoughtful than the axe-wielding hunter from before.
"Very good. You have passed the trial."
"What!?" the three of them exclaimed in shock.
"The name of our warband is the Forged Steel Brotherhood. Our battle cry is 'Into the forge, forged in steel,' because I do not want my commanders to see their brothers as tools. I want everyone to enter the furnace like ore, to be fused together and emerge as forged steel. Because we have no fleet and no supplies. We have only each other. Only our brothers."
"Therefore, we will never accept anyone who is willing to abandon a comrade into our warband. Because in the Legion, countless warriors died for that very reason."
Hearing this, Alexios was stunned. "The Legion? Countless warriors? You mean there are many more warriors like you? Hundreds... thousands!?"
His imagination could not possibly conceive of a battle with hundreds or thousands of warriors in such armor.
Peter replied, "Tens of millions. Countless Astartes died for that reason. Many of them were highly decorated, yet they died in obscurity."
Gorgias, standing to the side, was also captivated. He asked curiously, "What kind of war would require millions of warriors like you?"
"A battle among the stars. The game of the Four Gods of Chaos. A war that will decide the fate of all humanity."
Lycurgus and Gorgias couldn't help but exclaim:
"The Owl of Athena!"
"My Emperor!"