The Mordian Campaigns

Ch-5: The Iron Spearhead

Havelock's POV

The next morning arrived with a cold clarity, as if the night had never truly ended. I woke an hour before sunrise, the camp still and shrouded in a dim haze. My preparations were methodical, unchanged by the years of war or the impending battle. Dressing myself in the same way I had countless times before, I slid into the proud uniform of a Mordian officer-the bright blues and deep reds, sharp and immaculate as tradition demanded. The uniform wasn't just for ceremony. Beneath the finely tailored fabric, it was reinforced with lightweight flak armor, a standard for all Mordian infantrymen, though you wouldn't know it from its polished, formal appearance.

For most of my officers, the uniform was a canvas to flaunt their wealth and status, a display of their upbringing. Ornate cuirasses, filigreed with gold, encrusted with jewels, and adorned with elaborate family crests were the norm. They entered battle like walking monuments to their own egos, convinced their armor reflected their worth as much as their skill.

But that wasn't my way. I had no noble heritage to parade, nor did I see the value in such vanity. The cuirass I wore into battle was plain, functional, and well-worn, bearing only the marks of service. It wasn't for pride or appearances that I chose to wear it, but for the man who had bestowed it upon me-a veteran sergeant who had long since passed, and whose wisdom and humility had shaped much of the officer I became. To wear it now was not just armor; it was a reminder of the real duty I had-to my men, to the Emperor, and to the ideals of service and sacrifice.

With that final thought, I adjusted my belt, clipped my saber into place, and stepped out into the dawn, ready to lead my men into battle.

~Later~

1 hour before the offensive

The plans were set and the men were given their orders to fall into their respeced ranks, some entered fighting vehicles and transports while others lined up perfectly behind them in order to follow them into battle.

I held a briefing for my company officers and our newly Salamander comrades.

"Gentlemen and Astartes...." I said with a pause as I gave a respectful glance to both my men and the Space Marines.

"Our plan is simple. Each of the 10 companies will be supported by ground vehicles and 1 Space Marine. Our infantry will follow behind our heavy armour in order to break through the initial defensive perimeter of the Heretic lines." I said before being interrupted by the loud bombardment of our artillery and Krieg artillery.

"Artillery will softened their lines all the way until we come only 400 yards from the enemy lines. The Kriegsmen objective relies on us to break into the city first. They will also be staging their own offensive simultaneously as ours. This will force the heretics to stretch out their lines just enough for us to break them." I explained as I looked at everyone of the faces before me, both of my men and Astartes. I took a pause before explaining them the next and most importantly last order of my plans.

"And last of all men... there will be no retreat in this offensive. By no means are you to order your men to retreat from the battlefield what's so ever. The fate of this city is dependent on our actions of today....." My words carried heavy on my mens minds, I could tell. I knew all to well of the look that they showed me...

I had known these men for some time now, I've learned of where they were from, and to each and every name that they all hold dear to their hearts..... this was the curse of being an officer after all.

I knew I could trust them, but still the order was not easy to give. For anyone who knows of how brutal the Astra Militarum could be this would the primer to that example: Given the order to not retreat and the only options were death or victory. Death coming from the enemy hands or the hands of a commisars bolter.

Victory was the only option we had today, or the death of all our comrades and brothers would have been for nothing. For high command would rather glass the whole city and even planet if it meant eradicating heresy. Those were our options in this cruel cruel world we live in.

"We will get it done sir." One of my captains said to me. Followed by the others agreeing and giving their absolute best response despite being told the news I had just given them. And with that my men left my side with each captain being assigned a space marine for the offensive.

I looked down for moment as they left and gripped the pommel of my blade tightly. I felt the familiar thud of power armour step next to me. It was T'kell and he had his helmet removed, he looked down to me due to his massive stature before saying.

"I see the weight of command on your shoulders, Colonel. Know this-my brothers and I carry that burden alongside you. We share the same duty, though our paths may differ." T'kell's words hung in the air like the heavy fog before dawn, each syllable deliberate, carrying a weight that even a man like me couldn't dismiss outright. The burden of command was something few could truly grasp. Here stood a warrior from a brotherhood that was as far from ordinary as a man could be, yet he spoke of the same weight I carried-perhaps even more.

I took a breath, the tension that had built between us like an invisible wall still there but... softening. My gaze flickered to my men in the distance, preparing for the onslaught ahead, then back to the hulking figure before me.

"Sergeant," I began, my voice steady but guarded, "command is a burden I carry not for glory, but for them." I nodded toward the soldiers, some battered, others grim-faced as they checked their weapons and armor. "Every decision I make is with their survival in mind. Not just victory, but ensuring they live to see it."

I paused, feeling the weight of my own thoughts. "I don't trust easily, especially when it comes to my men's lives. But if you're here to help them survive this... then perhaps we can find common ground. We both have our orders. We both know the price that's paid if we fail. Just make sure your Astartes understand that these men aren't expendable to me."

I met his bright red eyes, with my own, his eyes were focused on me as I spoke to him about all of this. "I respect the burden you carry, Sergeant, but understand-I don't expect you to carry mine."

T'kell's POV

The colonels words were..... different from what I expected to hear. I have fought alongside many other guardsmen regiments, where many of the officers would have not batted an eye over knowing his men were going to be sent to their deaths for only a small parcel of land they would call a victory. But not Colonel Havelock, he was different, and for that I've begun to respect him. But that didn't matter now as the offensive was now on its way. Havelock started heading toward the front of the formation, his men at attention waiting for their leader to join then into what would be surely..... a blood fight.

End of the chapter