Brief 3:
Custodes
Terra
0 422 999 M41
We the Custodes:
We who are.
Born of his blood, through his grace,
Bound to his will, a duty known, near and far,
Perfection built, upon a mortal base,
Powered from within a star.
We who are.
We who stand,
Below the throne, before the man,
Lay down our lives, at his word, at his command.
There is no question, just his plan,
Duty’s demand.
We who stand.
We who speak,
With his voice, his word complete,
For us he bled, born to a world, cold and bleak,
Numb our hearts, our souls elite,
To guide the weak.
We who speak.
We who fight,
Those down below, in the deep,
Chaos flows, and demons weep, without their might.
Locked away, their souls may keep,
Never shall they see the light.
We who fight.
We who die,
Cowards all, free from pain,
After the fall, our lives mean not, behind the lie,
Failure is, but noble gain,
There is no try.
We all must die.
-Desmond Aetheus, 0 134 015 M31
——
PSSSSHHHHHHH
Dust and leaves blew out from beneath the cruiser as the sleek automated transport touched down on a grassy knoll. The season of rot had begun as the trees sat bare, golden leaves carpeting the ground.
Exterior lights on the cruiser illuminated the surroundings, showing a single path cutting through the dense forest. Silently, the passenger door slid open, allowing the old man his first glimpse of home.
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It never was his home, but the home of his people. His family. The noble Aetheus clan.
The old man crunched into the dry leaves as he stepped down from the cruiser and began his walk to the manor. Each step brought a spin-tingling sound amplified by the soft bite of the cool breeze. The smell of winter was in the air, as his heightened senses analyzed every detail in his surroundings. It would have been a pleasant walk if not for the three guards and eighteen detection devices homing in on his every step.
The guard's heart rates had increased by an average of twenty-three percent as he passed from the grassy path onto the marbled walkway. He could not blame them for their fear, as it was not every day that an apocalypse in full resplendent golden armor walked by your post. Good thing he had left his helmet and weapons in the cruiser, or they may have made things more complicated.
In the distance, the manor house sat, as resplendent as the day he left all those centuries ago. That was his first hard day, but as a toddler, he could not understand the gravity of the honor bestowed upon him. Now, he arrives to bestow that same honor on another.
As he approached, a statue rose in a silhouette, as lights from the house obscured his view. A blink and his eyes adjusted to reveal a thirty-foot statue of an armored warrior with a sentinel blade raised high in a heroic pose and a storm shield held at his side.
It was him…
And to make matters written on the base in stylized lettering was:
“Per-Praecido”
-Desmond Aetheus
The old man sighed.
It was never a quote or battle cry. It was an identity given to his team for their swift, precise strikes that cut through the enemies of the Imperium.
An age gone and another valor stolen. He expected nothing else from the nobles of Terra.
——
“Ancestor! We welcome you to the seat of Aetheus power!” Said Rowland Aetheus, current patriarch and pompous insects.
It was not fair to consider all nobles to be slime, leeching power from the truly powerful in the galaxy, but his brother's descendants were most certainly insects.
“A pleasure... For you, I am sure,” Desmond replied as he studied the assortment of mortals before him.
Rowland was a tall mortal with dark hair and rat-like features. He would never know why his brother’s line had diluted themselves with Skaven.
Standing next to Rowland was his lady wife Ophelia, mother of the whelps arrayed behind them. She was far more attractive than Rowland, not enough to remove the Skaven from their line, but it was a step in the right direction.
“I would like to introduce you to my wife, Lady Ophelia Aetheus, and our children. This is our oldest Desmond…” Rowland began, but a raised hand from the original Desmond cut him short.
“Master Aetheus, where is the boy?” Desmond asked.
Although he could more than indulge his distant relatives, lions don’t eat with rats. Once the boy became a Custode, then he could honor his family, but today, Desmond wanted to collect the boy and return to the palace.
“Great ancestor, we do not mean to offend.” Rowland began with a look of trepidation on his face, “But the boy's mother, our daughter Cara, is heartbroken at the thought of losing her son. She refused to bring him out.”
“If mothers had their way, there would be no Custode nor an Empire of Mankind, as chaos would have no heroes to vanquish it.” Desmond said, “Bring me to the boy. His destiny is set for greater things.”
——
“NO! You won’t take him! Not my son, not my Pauly.” She shrieked as Desmond and the Aetheus clan entered the manner.
It was strange that they had a statue of him in the front but didn’t consider having a door tall enough for him to walk through. To a shrewd mind, that was a dead giveaway that the Custode they bragged about was nothing more than a figure from the distant past.
“Cara, you need to calm down. We have discussed this.” Rowland said as he tiptoed closer to the girl who wrapped her body around a young boy.
No older than three, the boy couldn't escape his mother's bosom. He struggled as the commotion of a giant gold-plated man drew his attention.
“NO! HE IS STAYING WITH ME.” YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM
“Cara dear. We discussed this. Paul is special, so special that he has been requested to join the Emperor’s personal guard. There is no greater honor.” Rowland pleaded, “Right ancestor? Paul will get to meet the Emperor.”
“If he survives.”
With those words, the air left the room.
Realizing his mistake, Desmond said, “The Empowe personally participates in the creation of each Custode.”
A sob came from Cara as she said, “Father, don’t do this. They can take another boy.”
“CARA! We are done with this! Paul is special, and he will bring honor to this family. We all must do our duty.”
Cara stood and faced the family. The regal entryway could fit over a hundred people, leading to the standoff from across the hall, which was one of Desmond's rare mistakes. In his youth, his unyielding commitment and strategic foresight had led him far in the Custodes. However, a mistake could happen as the years became uncountable, and he fell for 100% proficiency. An angry mother was not something he expected to need a battle plan for.
“Fine, if you won’t save him. I will!” Cara said as she pulled a glass orb from her skirts.
Smashing the orb on the floor caused a cataclysmic eruption in the hall. Like a flashbang, a blinding light disoriented the mortals. Desmond cleared his vision with a blink, in time to watch Cara carry Paul into the spinning blue, white, and purple Rift.
Desmond studied the Rift for several minutes before Rowland and Ophelia approached.
“Ancestor, is it a portal to the warp? Are we safe? What should we do?” Asked Rowland, with Ophelia attached to his arms.
“Safe. For now.” Desmond said as he waited for his weapons, even though an army would find it difficult to defeat him unarmed.
A crash came from above as stained glass rained down on the hall. It was once a mural of Desmond. Now, a sleek autonomous transport was floating through the new entryway.
“MY WINDOW!” Rowland cried before Mrs Aetheus slapped him.
“Rowland! Our daughter just jumped in that portal, and you care about your window!”
The cruiser sat down on the plush purple carpet and opened a sliding door to allow access.
Inside sat the legendary sentinel blade and storm shield wielded by Desmond Aetheus, each custom-crafted by a generation of skilled artisans. Before collecting his weapons, Desmond dawned his Auramite helmet to complete his full suit of power armor.
Sword and shield in hand, Desmond strode towards the Rift. He may no longer stand the long watch over the Emperor, but he could fulfill his duty to protect this recruit. Lions always protected their cubs.
He stepped into the Rift, and it closed behind him.