The Mordian Campaigns

Ch-1: Welcome to The Imperium

Author's POV

The battlefield was a hellscape. Smoke and ash choked the air, filling the sky with a dark, oppressive fog. The crack of lasfire, the boom of artillery, and the unholy screams of heretics echoed through the fields of this desolate world. The Mordian Iron Guard held the line, their disciplined ranks an island of order amidst the chaos. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood in perfect formation, their brightly colored uniforms contrasting starkly against the bloodstained mud they fought upon.

Colonel Lucius Havelock stood at the front, his Bolt pistol raised and a Saber sheathed at his hip-a weapon that seemed antiquated in the brutal, mechanized warfare of the 41st millennium. But it was a blade he had wielded in many battles, and to his men, it was as much a symbol of their captain's indomitable will as his ironclad leadership. Unlike other decorated Astra Militarum officers who led from the rear, safe behind layers of troops, Havelock was always on the front lines. It was this practice that earned him the unwavering loyalty of his men.

"Steady!" Havelock bellowed, his voice cutting through the din of battle as he moved up the line. He could see the fear in some of their faces, the way their hands tightened on their lasguns, knuckles white beneath the sheen of sweat and grime. But they stood firm. Mordians always stood firm.

Ahead of them, the enemy forces-the heretics of Chaos-charged with maddened zeal, their twisted forms barely human anymore, their shrieks and howls a mockery of everything sane. Havelock's bolt pistol blasted, and a corrupted figure fell, the bolt blew a hole through its chest. All around him, the disciplined volleys of the Mordians mowed down the charging heretics, cutting them to ribbons as they crashed into the Guard's steel line.

To the right, he caught sight of the Krieg regiments, the Death Korps, advancing with grim efficiency. The Kriegsmen cared little for their own lives, throwing wave after wave of soldiers into the grinder, indifferent to their own casualties as long as the battle was won. Havelock had seen entire Krieg platoons sacrificed in moments, swallowed up by artillery fire and enemy charges, all to gain a few feet of ground. It was effective, certainly, but it sickened him.

Unlike the Kriegsmen officers, who viewed their men as little more than expendable tools, Havelock valued every life under his command. Every death was a weight he carried, but that did not mean he hesitated to make the hard choices. War was unforgiving.

A crackling voice came through his vox-bead. "Sir, heretics are breaching the left flank!"

Havelock spun, catching sight of a detachment of the enemy pushing hard against a weakened part of their line. With a grim smile, he holstered his bolt pistol and unsheathed his saber, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light. "Fix bayonets!" he shouted. "Advance! Drive them back!"

The order was immediate. The Mordians surged forward in perfect unison, their discipline a sharp contrast to the wild, disorganized fury of the heretics. Havelock led from the front, his cutlass flashing as it cleaved through flesh, each stroke measured, each kill precise. His men followed, their lasguns firing point-blank into the enemy ranks before plunging bayonets into the bodies of any that dared come close.

The heretic lines buckled under the onslaught, their morale shattered by the relentless Mordian advance. Within moments, they were in full retreat, leaving nothing behind but the dead and the dying.

The battle was won, but at a cost.

---

Later, as the sun set behind the blackened horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield, Colonel Havelock walked among the bodies of his fallen men. He moved slowly, his gaze lingering on each face, some of whom he knew by name, others only by the uniforms they wore. Sergeant Voss walked beside him, quiet and respectful, as the Mordians gathered their dead with solemn reverence.

"Make sure they're given proper honors," Havelock said, his voice low but firm. "We bury them tonight."

Voss nodded. "Aye, sir. Every man accounted for."

Havelock watched as the soldiers gently laid their comrades into shallow graves. He refused to let them be forgotten, to be thrown into mass pits like the Krieg dead were. Each Mordian was a soldier of the Emperor, and they deserved more than to be discarded like so much cannon fodder.

He clenched his fists, feeling the familiar anger rise within him. He had lost men today-good men-but the fight had been necessary. He could see that in the faces of those still standing. The resolve that had carried them through the storm of battle was there, etched into their expressions. They had done their duty.

---

Hours later, the company had settled into their camp, the fires casting a faint glow across the darkened landscape. In his command tent, Colonel Havelock sat at a small, battered desk. Before him, a half-written letter lay on a piece of parchment. It was addressed to his wife-one of the few luxuries he allowed himself, even if no one else in the regiment knew of it. He had not seen her or his children in years, and every letter felt like a prayer, as though writing it could somehow keep him tethered to a life outside of war.

*My dearest,* he had written, *the battle was hard today, but we held. The Mordians always hold.*

He dipped his quill into the inkpot, preparing to continue, when the flap of his tent was pushed aside. Sergeant Voss stood at attention, his face etched with concern.

"Sir," Voss said, "there's a meeting. The Krieg commander wants to see you, and... there's someone else. Someone high up."

Havelock raised an eyebrow, setting the quill down carefully. He had little patience for Krieg officers, and whoever this "someone else" was, it likely meant more trouble. But he had a duty to perform.

"Very well," he said, standing. "Let's not keep them waiting."

As he moved toward the tent's entrance, Havelock cast one last glance at the half-finished letter. With a sigh, he pushed it aside. Duty called, as it always did.

And so, Colonel Lucius Havelock, veteran of the Astra Militarum, left the warmth of his thoughts behind, once more stepping into the cold embrace of war.

Hey everyone Joaquin here recently I've had the time and more importantly the inspiration to write and update my chapters and I now started a new book this time in the Warhammer 40k universe. I know that I've started and written other books in the past but this time it feels different. So going forward I plan on only sticking on this book and my Hiccstrid book for the foreseeable future. I hope you enjoyed my first installment of this chapter. But other than that PEACE OUT YALL

END OF THE CHAPTER