The Mordian Campaigns

Ch-3: Duty Calls

Havelock's POV

The familiar thud of heavy boots echoed through the ground. I didn't need to turn to know what it was or who it was. But I did anyway. To my left, an imposing figure emerged, clad in thick green power armor, the unmistakable silhouette of a son of Nocturne.

The Salamander stepped forward, his towering form becoming clearer, his armor emblazoned with the symbols of Vulkan's legacy. A Space Marine, one of the Emperor's angels of death, here on our battlefield. Famed for their dedication to humanity-a blessing to some, perhaps-but to men like me in the Astra Militarum, their presence only meant one thing: the fight was about to get far worse.

I couldn't help the bitterness that crept into my voice. "What are Space Marines doing here?" I asked, turning to Wulfen, my concern masked as frustration. The Krieg officer stood next to me, unflinching behind his ever-present gas mask.

He inhaled audibly through the filter before replying in that monotone rasp all Kriegsmen seemed to share. "The Space Marines are here for an important mission. Your company of Mordians is renowned for urban combat."

I scowled, my voice hardening. "Yes, we are. So are you, Kriegsman. If the Astartes are involved, the battle's about to become far bloodier than it needs to be. Typical." The disdain for the Space Marines seeped through, despite my best efforts to remain stoic.

Wulfen, of course, didn't flinch. He never did. "Regardless, Colonel, we have our orders. No matter the cost-Kriegsmens, Mordians, Astartes-we will win because the Emperor demands it." His words carried the same single-minded focus that all Kriegsmen seemed to have, as if losses, sacrifice, even human lives were just numbers to be tallied.

The weight of Wulfen's words hung in the air, as cold and unfeeling as the gas mask obscuring his face. Typical Krieg, I thought. Sacrifice was their only strategy, their creed carved in bone and steel. Every life was just another round in the ammunition belt. But that wasn't how the Mordian Iron Guard fought not if I could help it.

I felt the familiar thud of armored boots hitting the ground again-heavier this time. The Salamander stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over both me and Wulfen. Clad in thick, emerald power armor, his appearance was every bit as imposing as I'd expected from the sons of Nocturne. I glanced at the salamander emblem on his pauldron, flames curling around the icon. The primarch's legacy burned in every movement, every breath.

The Space Marine's helmeted gaze locked onto me, unreadable through the expressionless faceplate. When he spoke, his voice boomed with authority, amplified by the vox-caster in his helmet. It wasn't the monotone hiss of a Kriegsman-there was something else there. Purpose. Power. Unshakable conviction.

"Colonel Havelock," the Salamander began, his voice a rumble of thunder, "your company will form the outer cordon for the assault. My brothers and I will be the tip of the spear." He paused, as if to let the gravity of the situation sink in. "We will liberate the city. If we fail, high command has made it clear-they will order a full bombardment, reducing the city to ashes. The population, the infrastructure... everything will be lost."

My jaw clenched. Typical of the brass. Burn everything down if you can't control it. I wasn't surprised-but it didn't sit any easier hearing it come from the mouth of a Space Marine.

Wulfen, of course, didn't flinch. His gas mask gave away nothing, but I could almost feel his dogmatic certainty radiating off him like a shield. "Regardless, Colonel," Wulfen added, his voice as flat as ever, "we have our orders. No matter the cost-Kriegsmens, Mordians, Astartes-we will win, because the Emperor demands it."**

The words stabbed like ice. The cost. He always came back to the cost, like it was a currency to be spent freely. He didn't care how many bodies were stacked in the Emperor's name, so long as the mission was achieved. But I wasn't Krieg. My men weren't expendable resources to be thrown into a meat grinder.

I turned to the Salamander, my eyes narrowing beneath my cap. Despite my disdain for Astartes, there was one thing I knew I could rely on them for-they cared about the people, even if only in the broadest sense. I had to get the point across.

"And what of the civilians, Space Marine?" I asked, voice calm but sharp. "Your Chapter's reputation precedes you. You protect the people, do you not? Or is the liberation of the city more important than those who live in it?"

There was a beat of silence, the Space Marine towering above me. I could almost feel Wulfen's indifference beside me-he didn't give a damn about the civilians, and I doubted he'd ever considered it. But this wasn't Krieg. We weren't here to raze cities to the ground.

The Salamander tilted his head slightly, the weight of his armored presence unwavering. "We protect humanity, Captain," he responded evenly, his voice more measured now, but still carrying the weight of millennia. "But there are times when protection comes at a price. This city will be free, but how much of it survives depends on how quickly we succeed. The longer this drags on, the more it will suffer under the enemy's grasp-and under ours, should we fail."

The implications weren't lost on me. I fought the urge to scowl, keeping my face stoic. Failure. Even the Salamanders knew there was a line between saving a city and obliterating it. But it didn't make the prospect of following that path any easier. The Mordians could fight, there was no question about that-but at what cost?

Wulfen, naturally, was unfazed. "Victory demands sacrifice, Colonel," he said, his voice dripping with cold detachment. "The city's fate is secondary to the Emperor's will. We will break the enemy, and the Imperium will endure, no matter the price."

I glanced at the Krieg officer, my lip curling slightly. Of course that's all he cared about. He'd flatten every building and turn every street into a mass grave if it meant victory.

But the Salamander remained silent, his posture resolute, unwavering. For a moment, I almost agreed with him-despite my history with the Astartes, at least this one cared about the people, even if it was just a fraction more than Wulfen.

I looked out over the horizon, the distant sounds of artillery and gunfire echoing faintly. The battle wasn't over yet, and our orders were clear. But that didn't mean I had to like them.

"Very well," I said finally, straightening my posture. "We'll support the spearhead. But my men aren't Krieg. We're not here to die in droves-we're here to win. Don't forget that."

The Salamander nodded slightly, the subtle gesture of acknowledgment passing between us. As much as I disliked them, at least the sons of Vulkan understood sacrifice wasn't always measured in blood alone. Wulfen, on the other hand, was beyond reason. I exited the meeting once now knowing the purpose of my summons, more importantly the mission in which my men would have to fill. I looked out onto the battlefield; our forces were lined perfectly to the hive city I could see the fighting taking place all around.

Streets were a lit with the tell tale signs of lasgun firing from both sides. I was able to make out distinctive firing positions just from the sight of the lasgun fire going back Iand fourth. Soon my men were going to be in all of that. Door to door, Street by street and building by building we will cleanse this world of heretic control......

End of the chapter