A Soldier's Love (Warhammer 40K/RWBY Crossover) (OLD)

Misinformed

Lord General Thuris Tyvanich was annoyed. His headquarters had not even been established on the planet and it was midnight when an aid had awoken him from his slumber to inform him of his army's status.

"What do you mean 'engaged in combat?' we were not due to engage the enemy for several weeks, what has changed?" The Lord General demanded as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The aid before him stood to attention and handed him the stack of papers. "Read for yourself, Sir." He dutifully replied. The Lord General took the reports in his hand and began to read. "This is madness." He muttered. "The army hasn't even completely deployed yet." He eyed the stack of papers in his hand with contempt. The man rose to his feet and looked at the orderly, "You are dismissed." The soldier saluted and left. Tyvanich shook his head. the reports painted a bleak picture on the ground. Multiple regiments reported intense ground combat, some had even halted entirely. As the previous Imperial Garrison pulled out, there would no doubt be an opportunity for resistance groups to establish a greater foothold, but this seemed far too much. It was almost as if the Imperial Guard had hardly established control of the planet in the first place. Tyvanich stood and dressed himself. His finely-tailored trousers were partially covered by tall well-polished riding boots. Finally donning his cuirass and greatcoat, the Lord General looked down at is nightstand, next to the lamp sat a single object that defined not only himself, but the entirety of the Death Korps of Krieg. A simple brown gasmask with empty tinted-glass sockets staring up at him, almost as if it could see his soul, as if it judged with hollow eyes like that of a corpse.

Tyvanich stared back into the empty sockets for a moment. The Lord General pondered whether or not to put it on. He turned towards the mirror to gaze upon a face staring back at him. He gazed at it for a moment, now familiar with the sight of his own face. As a Lord General, he had to constantly interact with other non-Krieg officers on a nearly daily basis. He had led armies of non-Krieg soldiers for nearly a decade, armies consisting of everyone from Cadians and Catachans to Tallarn Desert Raiders and Maccabian Janissaries. The General had been impressed with the tenacity of the other soldiers of the Imperium. As the first Krieg officer ever to attain the rank of Lord General, it was feared that his lifetime of "programming" in the Death Korps would make him little more than a murderous and incompetent butcher. But Thuris Tyvanich had surprised everyone, including himself. He was a quick study and displayed a rare trait in the Death Korps officer corps, innovation. He was a rising star and a hero, and had broken countless stalemates and saved vital campaigns.

Finally, he reached for his gasmask, looking it over in his hands. He was still a Krieg officer. The men gathered in the trenches on the planet below were Krieg Guardsmen through and through. Everyone from the lowly trooper to the Generals of the various Line Korps had been raised since birth to sacrifice in the Emperor's name. The Lord General was cut from that same cloth as every other man on the planet. But his years commanding the other armies of mankind had changed Tyvanich, he wasn't like these men anymore...or was he? He didn't know. He was an excellent commander, sure. But he had grown unaccustomed to the peculiarities of his former comrades. Could he still truly lead these men? The Lord General pondered this for a moment, turning the Gasmask in his hand. He hadn't worn it in years as it made other non-Krieg officers uneasy, but now there was no reason not to wear it. Tyvanich stood with a hundred thoughts spiraling in his mind, he had started to doubt himself and even who he really was. But the gasmask held no doubts. In his hands he held the face of the Death Korps, and Tyvanich knew it. He was a Krieg officer, even if he ascended the ranks all the way to Lord Commander Militant of the Imperial Guard. He was the highest ranking Krieg Officer in history, and it was time to live up to it. Tyvanich inhaled and slipped the mask over his face. The familiar old smell of stale air filled his nostrils. The rough material felt strangely comforting. The Lord General felt a wave of comforting nostalgia wash over him, as each breath of filtered air filled his lungs and washed away his doubt and fear with each exhale.