A Lesson In Purpose: A Knights Angelicus Story

“Climb, Squires, there is no rest along this wall.”

Paladin Gerhard Engel stood at the top of the embankment, a great stone wall built many centuries prior. It had been worn down by weather and wind, leaving it cracked and fragmented…perfect handholds for the squires, the young initiate marines, who were attempting to climb it bare handed. Gerhard gave his best scowl, looking down on them as they struggled to ascend; it was a challenging thing, to wear out an Astartes, even one who had only just begun such a journey, but it was necessary, both to teach them the limits of their bodies, and to break down their will; all the better to teach them.

For that education, Gehard had mastered the perfect scowl. It wasn’t just disappointment that weighed heavy on his tightly wound brow, but something deeper, like a parent watching their children fail to live up to their expectations. It was, of course, a farce…or perhaps it had been that way once, but it was hard imitating a feeling for so long, and not come to live it.

One by one his squad made it over that wall, and to a man they were huffing and grunting, testing out new lungs and new muscles. He had pushed them for days to get them to this point, driving their superhuman physiology to the limit, and he could see they were, to a man, spent and worn out.

“Good.” Gerhard grunted, as the last one climbed the wall. “Now…time to go down the other side.”

At the head of a pack of stumbling neophytes, Paladin Gerhard strode into the village that had settled in to the ruins of the once grand castle he had just vaulted with his men. Little hovels of wood and mud were packed against the great stone walls, pack animals crammed into fenced pens, as dogs chased chickens through the streets.

He always found this particular part of their journey amusing, looking back as he did at the neophytes who followed. A few would have been born to families of nobles or tradesman, but just as many would have grown in villages just like this, mired in the muck of poverty. It should have been recognizable, or perhaps even familiar to them.

And yet, there was always that same look; that shock, that awe, that surprise. How could they not? They had evolved to a new life. The halls of the Crown of Sakanna were a far cry from a peasant’s hut; maintained by an army of serfs and servitors, it was an immaculate fortress, not a mote of dust along its incomprehensibly vast halls of steel and artistry. These squires had grown used to a standard of technological living, of science and wealth and service, that made what they witnessed now seem as if a world apart.

And that was the lesson he planned to teach them.

“What do you think of this place, Squires?”

he called back, his voice rough and steady, demanding yet calm. There was a pause, no answer at first, but he expected as such; they were searching for how to answer such a strange, nonsensical question.

“It is…rustic.” Came the only response, one squire finally piping up to answer him.

“I think you mean…dirty.” Gerhard called back, offer a rare grin, as the gathered group looked amongst themselves, unsure what to do. “Smelly perhaps? Rough. Unrefined…One might even call it ugly. Don’t you agree?”

He stopped walking, staring back at the group of students, watching them look first at the Paladin, then over at each other, as if hoping one of them would offer an answer to this strange question. Finally, after what seemed like a minute of waiting, a single Squire piped up.

“Why are we here, sir?” It was the same squire as before, and Gerhard let his grin widen. This one showed promise. Wolfgang, that was his name. He would have to pay attention to him.

“Tell me, what would happen if this village of a mere fifty people, were to be bombed to oblivion?”

No response. Gerhard continued.

“Would the weapons of the Imperium be any less prepared? Would its economy shake at the loss? Would the ranks of humanity be deprived of valued knowledge or talent?”

Another pause. This time he waited, letting them stew on it, forcing their response.

“No, sir.” Wolfgang said at last. “no one would notice.”

“That is correct.” Gerhard frowned, emphasizing his point. “Holy Terra would not shudder were this village lost, nor if a million such villages disappeared. These humans, these citizens of the Imperium…are worthless. They serve no value to it, they produce nothing for which it needs, nor will they have the strength to take up arms if it was needed of them. They simply exist. Now, you asked me, why we are here, squire?”

Gerhard turned, grinning as he led the gathered neophytes onward, guiding them through the village. There, at the end, was a great ruin, huge piles of stone blocks of what was once a cathedral or temple of sorts, long since collapsed inward. The size of the stones in question would require more strength to move than the peasants could produce, or afford to spare, and so it had been left there, untouched, for centuries.

“We are here…to help them. Squires, here is your task; move each of these blocks, and clear the cathedral of debris.”

The collective groan that passed over the gathered squires was like music to his ears, as Gerhard smiled, allowing himself a rare moment of delighted schadenfreude.

As his squires worked, hauling great slabs of stone that would require a team of cattle pulling to manage, a crowd began to gather, the villagers coming to watch the spectacle. All the better, Gerhard figured, to have a visual representation for him to use.
A grunt of agony drew his attention, as he turned to see Wolfgang lug a stone that would crush a man in half, stacking it onto an ever-increasing pile, as he leaned over it, gasping with exhaustion.
“Sire…” He panted out beneath heavy breaths, leaning against the stack of stone. “Why…why are we doing this?”

There it was, the goal of all this, all the climbing, the struggles…it was all to break them down. Gerhard was an artist, and this was his art: to bring these students to the edge of exhaustion, to let them ask the questions they needed to ask, and thus be open to the answers they needed to hear.

“Gather around, squires, it is time for your most important lesson.” Eager for a break, the squires dropped their work, grouping around the Paladin as he looked them over, his face grim once more.

“Answer me, could any one of these peasants move but a single stone?”

“No, sire.”

“No they could not. And why not?”

“…they are weak.”

“No.” Gerhard frowned, his voice heavy and direct. “They are not weak. You are strong. Each one of you has been blessed with power, granted to you by genius ten thousand years in the making. And you have only yet begun to realize that strength. Soon enough, each of you will join the ranks of the Knights Angelicus, one of a thousand chapters of Adeptus Astartes. You will find your bodies flush with strength that will make what you feel now seem paltry in comparison. You will be armored in steel such that blows bounce off you, and you will feel invincible. You will be given command of weapons and warmachines that can…that will turn castles such as this to little more than dust. You will stand beside a thousand brothers, each cloaked in might, and together, you will bring worlds to heel, you will crush tyrants, you will slay monsters, you will defy the gods. You will be profoundly, undeniably, strong.”

He paused. Stopping his speech, letting the moment sink in. Equal parts tiredness and the gravitas of the moment kept them from speaking, letting him continue.

“Long ago, when the Emperor still walked among us, there were those Astartes who believed that that strength entitled them to what they wished. ‘Might Makes Right’, if I can claim it, then it is mine. Ignorant, they were, to how the strength of which they were so proud was built on a temple of life trillions strong, and without those they trampled beneath their boot, they would be nothing more than another brick in that vast edifice. The arrogant belief that we somehow can disregard the least of us because of our outstanding power, is the very belief that has created the greatest, most vile enemies of mankind.”

Another pause. He was approaching the climax now, and he had their attention.

“So, this is the lesson you must learn, young ones. We are guardians of not just the great spires, but of the least of these. The weakest peasant, the smallest child. Each and every one must be given value. Each must be preserved if we have the strength. Our gifts are built on the sacrifice and struggle of trillions of souls; without them we are nothing. And so, we shall return that favor, and we will fight, and we will die, so that the least of them may-“

“Excuse me mister.”

It was strange. For all the confidence and power in his voice, as he guided the minds and hearts of these squires, it was but the softest of voices that drew his attention. Even Gehard himself was surprised, as he turned, looking at…nothing. At least, that is until he looked down.

There, barely coming up to his knee, was a young child, a peasant girl, clearly having seen fewer than forty seasons. The other peasants kept their distance out of respect or awe, but somehow, this young child had found the courage to approach these giants, and, so it would seem, talk with them, holding on gently to the edge of his robe even as she stared up with bright, curious, and incredibly brave eyes.

For a moment, Gerhard froze. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t expected it. He had given this speech a hundred times before, and never once had one of the locals dared interrupt, until now. But improvisation was the heart of a good teacher, and the Paladin smiled, slowly lowering himself down onto one knee, bringing himself closer to the small child.
“Yes, little one?” He said in response, his voice calm and quiet; this would, he believed, prove to be an even more valuable lesson.

“Are you a troll?” She asked, so much sincerity in her voice it actually made him laugh, doing his best not to be too loud, lest he scare the young one.

“No, little one, I am not a troll.”

“hmmm….” The young child furrowed her brow, deep in thought, as she leaned against that great trunk of a leg, holding on to Gerhard’s robe.

“Are you a dragon?” She looked up, as if this was in any fashion a reasonable answer to the question she was pondering. Ah, what stories she must be told, to have such an active imagination, so full of images of monsters and myths. But Gerhard was prepared now for the puerile absurdity of it, and so only smiled.

“No little one, I am not a dragon.”

“HMMM….” The young child’s brow furrowed even deeper, squishing her soft face together as she held one hand to her chin, reminding Gerhard of a diminutive imitation of one of the great philosophers. He was, through it all, keenly aware of the eyes on him; the peasants, and his own squires. Let them wait, he thought; let them see that an Astartes could be gentle with their charges.

“Oh, I know!” The child squeaked, eyes going wide as if she had solved some great mystery.

“Are you an Angel?” She asked at last, her mouth wide with anticipation. Gerhard could see the absolute certainty on her face, and the joy this thought brought to her. It would be a shame to crush such eureka, and it was, for what it’s worth, essentially correct.

“You are a clever one, aren’t you?” Gerhard beamed, giving the girl a gentle pat on the head. “Yes, I am an angel…we are all angels.”

“ I knew it.” She huffed, as if she had broken through some dark revelation. Then, with unparalleled tenacity, the young child proceeded to haul herself up onto the knee of the kneeling Astartes, climbing his leg like a tree as she came to sit upon it peacefully.

“Grandma says the angels are up there in the stars!” She pointed a finger upward, drawing the eye of Gerhard and the gathered squires; ah, what power this child has, to command the actions of Astartes!

“and that you are fighting off monsters and dragons, to keep us safe.”

“Your grandparent speaks the truth, little one.” The paladin smiled, bracing the child with one hand.

“Then why are you here?” The child’s question was so sincere, but so biting; ah, of course she had found a loophole in his mythological logic! Clever little one.

“I am teaching them to be angels, like me.” He said it all with a smile, having to learn how to speak in a soft tone once more; so gentle a creature this was, that sat on his knee, it would take all his skill to restrain his power, to leave her unharmed.

“By picking up rocks?” She asked, tilting her head. Nothing would get past you, would it little one!

“By learning to help.” He replied, letting his voice be heard, not just by her, but by those who gathered; it was time to return to the lesson, now with the aid of his newest assistant.
“Hmmm…” Back into deep though the peasant girl went, kicking her legs in the air, completely fearless on the knee and braced by the huge hand of the space marine. Gerhard let her think; his duties, and his lessons, were not nearly as important as the ruminations of a young girl.
“So, if the monsters come…will you come protect us?”

“We will not let the monsters ever make it to you, little one.” He responded with a smile, seeing the reassurance on her face.

“But should a monster ever make it here, and scare you in the night…then we will come and protect you.” He continued, letting a mote of pride drift into his voice, as he looked up, speaking this last part not for her…but for his squires.

“Because that is what Angels do.”