Chapter 212: Too Many Who No Longer Speak
Those who wagered their lives to climb were unusually numerous.
For generations, the people had lived in darkness. Now, for the first time, they saw the light. Some recoiled at its cold cruelty and shrank back into their pits, while others were willing to stake their already worthless lives in exchange for a one-way ticket promised to end in death.
Perhaps, for the people of Galaspar, the line between becoming an Astartes and a mortal auxiliary wasn't very clear. Becoming an Astartes seemed like the higher calling, but for those who had spent their lives struggling on assembly lines, joining the mortal auxiliary force was temptation enough.
It was a ticket to the sky, to the universe—a chance to pass through the yellow mists of Galaspar and glimpse the world beyond.
Disabled young men, silent middle-aged men, strong adult women—the news that the Death Guard was also recruiting mortal auxiliaries spread like mushrooms after rain, giving these people a renewed hope.
Fathers and sons, husbands and wives, siblings—Along the road to the final trial, small family units began to appear. The age-appropriate boy would strive to become an Astartes, while his family members hoped to join the mortal auxiliaries.
People flowed forward, struggling toward the finish line.
At that finish line sat the Revenant, observing their every move from on high like a judge.
He was the one who had amended the recruitment rules. His towering figure was clearly different from other commanders, and the intricate designs on his pauldrons made his distinguished status even more apparent.
The people looked upon him with a mix of awe and fear, yet rumors kept them from kneeling or expressing their thanks. He remained silent and expressionless, showing neither joy nor sorrow. From time to time, red-robed mechanical monstrosities would come to kneel before him, only to be pointed elsewhere by the dark, long-handled scythe in his grasp.
The recruitment on Galaspar was going exceedingly well.
Hades watched the data streaming in from all corners and reflected silently. Ever since he officially added the clause for "simultaneous recruitment of mortal auxiliaries," even the pass rate for Astartes selection had risen.
'Maybe it was because people were no longer traveling alone?'
Hades wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
But what he could be sure of was that this wave of Galaspar recruits wouldn't just blur the lines already growing indistinct between Terra and Barbarus—they would also strengthen the bond between the Death Guard and its mortal auxiliary corps.
Those mortals who passed the trial could be immediately assigned their posts. But to become an Astartes still required one final test.
Hades waited patiently for that next trial. In the meantime, the current batch of successful candidates were all being put through initial ideological and combat training, learning the values of the Death Guard.
Even those who would never become Astartes had earned the Death Guard's respect through their tenacity.
After all, they had passed a selection trial meant to filter out the worthy for Astartes ascension.
Hades himself wasn't responsible for this phase of training. Mortarion took personal charge, accompanied by Garro and Vorx. The Primarch took training soldiers very seriously. Though there had been warning signs earlier—hints that Mortarion was beginning to treat Astartes as more precious than he should—Cinis' appearance had helped realign his focus.
Now, Mortarion was calmly and methodically training the Death Guard's mortal auxiliaries.
Although Mortarion claimed he was "training" them, in reality he was just using the same method he had used to train the Death Guard on Barbarus.
A Primarch personally instructing mortal auxiliaries—this was rare enough to be historic. Usually, a single offhand speech from a Primarch to mortal troops would be elevated into a grand moment in Imperial propaganda. Something to stir hearts and be commemorated for generations.
But since neither side really had much concept of what was supposed to happen, things proceeded with a kind of muddled mutual understanding. Mortarion didn't care about any of that pomp. The people of Galaspar had no frame of reference. So the result was a strange but functioning balance.
Hades didn't concern himself with how Mortarion trained the Astartes aspirants. But when it came to training the mortal auxiliary forces, he had only one rule:
"Mortarion, you can't train them all into mutes!"
Hades gestured wildly in frustration. As usual, Mortarion ignored his melodrama, quietly focused on mixing reagents.
"Some of them will have to take on administrative duties. We need… different kinds of people."
God Emperor knew what the Death Guard's gene-seed did to people. Even though their gene-seed was among the most stable and productive—with almost no mutation or failure—those who became Death Guard were without exception pale, lean… and unbelievably quiet.
Not everyone turned out like that, of course. Hades was determined to find the best of the bunch—the "tallest among dwarfs," so to speak—to handle internal administration. Sure, they wouldn't be political masterminds like the Ultramarines' leadership, but with the help of mortal clerks, they could at least manage the small chunk of territory the Death Guard was responsible for.
Eventually, he'd have to go to the Ultramarines to ask for some pointers. But since the two Legions hadn't formally met yet, it would be too abrupt to send someone now. That sort of thing should wait until Mortarion and Guilliman had at least shared a formal introduction.
Hades made a mental note of it.
Mortarion, meanwhile, ignored him entirely and looked down in satisfaction as his current mixture began to clarify. The Galaspar Order had once used drugs to maintain control over the populace—forced medication to enforce compliance. Now that the Order was gone, the people of Galaspar were suffering from various degrees of withdrawal.
The Death Guard had been distributing a bare minimum of placebos to stabilize the population.
But for those about to enter his Legion… Mortarion would not tolerate that weakness.
This particular concoction would rot away their already-damaged neural receptors—then stimulate the growth of new ones. After all, even Astartes used certain enhancers in combat. The Legion had plenty of research in this area.
The process would, of course, be extremely painful. Mortarion had no intention of giving them painkillers. Painkillers would dull the agony—but they also inhibited nerve regeneration.
"Are you done?" Mortarion asked slowly. "I never told them to be silent. They chose that on their own."
'Brother,' Hades screamed internally. 'Look at yourself! You're massive, grim, and looming—who in their right mind would even dare speak up in front of you??'
"Go do your job," Mortarion added, still unmoved.
He stashed the reagent and waved dismissively, like someone shooing away a stray animal. "Go, go. The first ships from Graia just arrived. You're the one who should be greeting them."
Hades departed, full of resentment. As he left, his voice echoed down the corridor:
"Mortarion! If you train them into mutes, the paperwork workload is going to triple for the Death Guard's future administration!"
Mortarion offered no response. He did appreciate the stoicism of silent warriors, but he also prided himself on never intentionally fostering it. There were still plenty in the Death Guard who made noise all the time. That loud one just now, for instance?
Wasn't that proof enough?
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