Dead Man Walking

Graf Aklus walked through the hallways of the Antares, his footsteps heavy, slow, as if the burden in his soul weighed down his physical body. The once familiar corridors, ones he had walked time and time again in his decades of faithful service and knew like the palm of his hand now seemed alien, lifeless, shrouded in a baleful darkness, reaching out with his tendrils to smother him. He was escorted by a pair of Cavaliers. They were his brothers, but they seemed like wardens to him. As they made their way to the upper decks of the ship, Aklus sank deeper into his thoughts, as a way to cope with the reality of his situation, perhaps. However, when he reached the entrance to the Primarch's chambers, the gate's intricate decorations hiding its heavily reinforced nature, he was pulled out of his daydreams.

Another two Cavaliers were standing guard beside the door, unnaturally still and silent. As expected of our Father's favourite sons, he mused. Everything is pristine, perfect. As it should be.

The guards finally showed a sign of life, as the one positioned to the left turned to face the wall and pressed a black button. A few seconds passed before a soft chime was heard. Having been given permission, the guards opened the door and ushered Aklus in.

It was the first time the Legionary had set eyes upon his Father's private chambers; such an honour would never be granted to someone as lowly as him. It was an incredible sight, and for a fleeting moment he forgot all about his predicament, as he took in the sights of the hall with the wonder of a child. The room was decorated with fabled Skandran works of art, ones he had been taught about in school, before he had even completed the first decade of his life. The wall behind the gene-sire's study was adorned with a mural he could only describe as divine, displaying the Amber King during his triumph on Antire, hours after their hated enemy's surrender. To the right, a portrait of Queen Kierstenn, signed by none other than Absalom himself, a testament of his love.

"Kneel"

The sharp tone of his Father's voice shocked him, and he instinctively fell to his knees in the middle of the room. He dared not look up, but he knew that Absalom stood above him.

"You know why you're here, child?"

Aklus didn't reply, for he discovered that no voice could leave his lips

"Do you?" the tone of his Father's voice was harsher this time, overflowing with impatience and barely hidden disgust.

Aklus pushed himself to speak, to embarrass himself no further. "F-ather… I… please"

"You plead for what, graf? Forgiveness? You should ask that from the hundred brothers of yours that died because of your oversight!"

"We couldn't… we couldn't know they would be there… our information was falsified, it is not our fault…"

"No. It is only yours. For the dead bear the fault no longer, and you led your men to their deaths at the hands of mongrels armed with weapons made of scrap metal. You, Aklus Edan, have made a mockery of what it means to be a Black Star. Whereas I raise you all for greatness, some of you are bound to fail. However, even in failure you can still serve… In the Boetar…"

Aklus felt his twin hearts skip a beat as he struggled to comprehend what he just heard. Surely, his Father, loving and caring, could not come to a decision so callous.

"Father, I implore you, please, do not do this. I will try my hardest, I will become a paragon of your virtues, the finest son of the IIIrd. Please, Father, forgive me."

Absalom kneeled and grabbed Aklus' chin, lifting his head up and looking into his eyes; he saw nothing but a miserable dog staring back. He rose and turned his back to his wayward son.

"I will forgive you the day you atone in death. Until then, you are my son no longer. You will bear not my emblem, nor my colours. You will have no name. You will live to fight and die in order to aid the duty of your betters. You are now a Boetar. May you find your peace in the afterlife, and may the rest of your stay in this world be filled with regret. Take him away"

The Cavaliers grabbed Aklus and carried him to the door, his legs too weak to carry him. In his soul, broken by sorrow and pain, he had realised that he now was nothing but a dead man walking.