Taskmaster

Despite being one of the 2,000 mortal auxiliaries aboard the battle-barge *Tian Sheng*, Yongfu rarely had a chance to see the Space Marines. His company was sequestered toward the stern of the warship, surrounded by the constant hum of its massive engines. Their days were spent in a rigorous cycle of training exercises and maintenance interspersed with brief break periods, usually lasting no more than half an hour. Thus, it was only on rare occasions that Yongfu was afforded enough free time to make the twenty-minute trek to the Astartes’ training hall.

On this day, the room was alive with the sounds of a duel. The clashing of blades rang through the air amplified by a vaulted ceiling. Yongfu sat above it all, perched atop one of the catwalks that spanned the room’s width. Below, a crowd of legionnaires clad in lacquered black armour watched as two of their number sparred in a roped-off ring. Toward the outer edges of the room, even more congregated. Their armour was of a different make than their brothers’, the otherwise smooth plates of ceramite interrupted by exposed power cables and bonding studs. Yongfu recognised it as Mark V power armour, a detail that he had gleaned from one of the serfs on the vessel. Such knowledge made him feel quite smug, although he would never mention it to his squad-mates.

In the centre of the room, the two warriors fought with a fluidity that belied their massive appearance. They flowed from one strike to the next, their weight shifting with each motion. Attack and defence blended together as they redirected hits and returned them with lethal precision. All the while they methodically paced around each other in perfect synchronicity. The glossy black of the pair’s war plate made them seem like two droplets of some ferric liquid, circling the ring as if moved by a magnetic force. To Yongfu, their grace was almost soothing. Many in his company would joke about the paradoxical name of the XVIIth Legion, but in watching the serene motions of the men below he knew that no title could fit the Warriors of Peace better.

A bulkhead opened at the far end of the room and a lone figure entered. The duellists paused and the hall fell silent as he strode in. He wore a full suit of archaic power Armor with a fraying grey sash tied around its waist. The chest plate was inset with a circular metal casting of his legion’s symbol. Two glowing green eyes peered out from the studded faceplate of an otherwise featureless helm. As he made his way to the centre the crowd parted, giving him a wide berth when he passed. He stood no taller than the other marines, and yet they moved around him as if he were a giant. At last the figure arrived at the forefront of the crowd, where Yongfu could see him more clearly and at last recognized him as Taskmaster Zhen. As Lord Preceptor of the Seventeenth, it was rumoured that over a tenth of the legion passed through their initiation under his watch.

The Taskmaster surveyed the ring before turning his gaze toward the two warriors in the middle, both of whom were now kneeling. He spoke.

*“Why did you stop?”*

He motioned for them to rise. Slightly embarrassed, the marines obeyed. They assumed a combat stance and crossed blades before looking to the Taskmaster for confirmation. He gave them a slight nod and they resumed fighting, his emerald gaze following their movements.

Where before they fought in perfect harmony, this time one began to put more strength into his blows. Each time their blades met, sparks flew and the duel became a steady crescendo as the warrior advanced toward his foe. The other duellist was quickly put on the defensive, overpowered by the escalating barrage of blows. It wasn’t long before he was pushed to the edge of the ring, his power armoured greaves digging into the stone floor as he struggled against the onslaught. The attacker at last summoned his strength for the coup de grâce. He surged forward while his blade made a beeline for his opponent’s torso. In an instant his foe sidestepped and grabbed his sword-arm, spinning around and redirecting his momentum to the ground, where he crashed in an armoured heap. His weapon clattered away.

Seconds passed. Yongfu could practically feel the tension in the room as Zhen approached the downed Astartes. The warrior quickly picked himself up, then kneeled and hung his head low in front of the Taskmaster.

*“That...was sloppy. Was it your intention to impress me with such careless technique?”*

Zhen looked around and addressed the entire room.

*“War is balance! Strength means nothing without control! You are Space Marines of the Warriors of Peace! You will either fight like one of us, or you will fail in battle as he failed today.”*

He knelt and brought his helmeted face near the warrior’s.

*“Do you consider yourself one of the Fourth Legion brutes? Or perhaps you would like to join the ranks of the Akaan Adiike?”*

A few marines in Mark V grimaced. Zhen extended his hand toward the bowed legionnaire’s chin and lifted his head.

*“I never forget a face. Yours is not familiar to me. Who trained you?”*

*“...My tutelage was under Lieutenant Fang of the Sixth Company, sir.”*

*“I see. And I take it you know who I am?”*

*“Yes, sir.”*

The Taskmaster leaned over and carefully picked up the fallen sword. Holding it by the blade, he thrust its handle before the kneeling warrior.

*“Then keep training. Or I will personally see to your removal.”*

Zhen calmly stood up and turned around to leave the training hall. The armoured crowd dispersed out of his way.

*“And tell the mortal that he is welcome to come down from the rafters and watch from the ground.*

*He may learn something.”*