Terra, Venaia region of the Nordic Peninsula.
Haren Svensalen, lean and youthful, stared up at a hololithic screen, his eyes shining as he fixed them on Ramsey, who looked identical to the Primarch.
Stories of the Emperor leading the conquest of the Moransun Federation echoed in his mind. Tales of the Emperor's powerful warriors throwing back the mutated soldiers of mad scientists with their heavy fists flashed through his thoughts.
He clenched his fists tightly. The other boys around him, Trev, Amad, Kennet, all felt the same. The others who had been chosen, every single one of them, had longing in their eyes.
In three days' time, after the Triumph celebrating Primarch Nareth's victory, they would leave their frozen, northern homeland for the training center at Iman Do, half a world away from Terra.
"I will become a Shadow of Order."
"The Luna Wolves are the best!" Trev shouted loudly.
Amad watched the magnificent hall and the rows of military banners on the viewscreen.
"Passing the trials and becoming one of the Emperor's warriors, that's enough."
"No, it's not the same," Kennet shouted.
"Of course it's different," Haren said, recalling the words of the one who had chosen him. "I'm going to be the best."
At the same moment, within the Eternity Gate' hall, wide enough for a thousand people to walk abreast.
Nareth watched as Grandmaster Hurzeler raised the banner high and hung it on a tapestry.
Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind: when Lorgar Aurelian, led by the Cadia native Ingethel, had made his pilgrimage to the Eye of Terror.
Ingethel, a Daemon Prince elevated by the Four, had shown Lorgar a vision of the future. In it, his sons, the Word Bearers, attacked the Eternity Gate, defended by the Imperial Fists.
Lorgar had walked through that vision of the great hall, pausing beneath a banner depicting a white world, where cloaked figures held pennants.
The banner of Valhalla.
Nareth collected his thoughts and said to himself.
'Lorgar made his pilgrimage to the Eye of Terror in 967. Valhalla must have joined the Imperium before then.'
'Hmm, next year's divination will be for Valhalla.'
As Nareth pondered, his gaze traveled forward along the undulating sea of tapestries. Lorgar's vision could only encompass one hundred thousand banners. But Nareth's vision could take in one million.
Even so, he still couldn't see the entire hall. The banners of every regiment from every world in the Imperium's domains stretched into the depths of the hall.
Over two million banners had already been raised in this hall. In the coming decades, another million would be added.
Nareth did not unfold his consciousness. After Hurzeler, beaming with joy, re-boarded his vehicle and the procession advanced for another two hours, Nareth finally glimpsed the Emperor at the end of the hall, standing on a marble dais.
His gaze was drawn to the colossal fortress behind the Emperor, its dense ceramite shell covered in layers of ornate gold.
Nareth's lips twitched slightly. Standing guard before the gates of this majestic, imposing fortress were two Wolf-faced Warhound Titans.
The Warhound Titans, though possessing towering forms and cannons capable of destroying entire cities, somehow seemed unworthy of this magnificent, opulent fortress.
The completed Imperial Palace had consumed a quarter of Mars's adamantium reserves.
Nareth focused his gaze back on the Emperor.
In the Emperor's hand was a battle standard.
The corner of Nareth's mouth turned up. The Emperor had become addicted to giving him banners.
'After the Rangdan War, the Emperor took me into the vault and I chose a banner. Does he think I have a fondness for them?'
The "Mentor of Disorder's" gaze flickered. He saw no spiritual radiance emanating from it.
'Though it's not some magical item, anything the Emperor offers is surely no ordinary object.'
Nareth's gaze sharpened as he examined the flagpole in the Emperor's hand.
The flagpole shone with brilliant adamantium light. The banner itself was black.
The Shadow of Order's Legion emblem, outlined in molten gold, gleamed brightly:
Disordered black arcs forming wings, spikes, and an abstract crown above.
The banner was inscribed with his name, Nareth, in both High Gothic and Vostroyan.
Around the edges, written in High Gothic, were the major victories Nareth had led the Shadow of Order to win: Fire Wyrms, Orks, written in green.
Mitus, depicted with shimmering waves.
In the top right corner, in a faint, almost transparent script that ordinary people couldn't discern, was written Rangdan a sign the Imperium did not wish the brutal xenos to be remembered.
About a fifth of the way down the banner was written Valia-Maximal, Laniarska, rendered in blue-green.
'The material, the style... this seems somewhat familiar...'
A flash of light passed through the Primarch's eyes as he focused on the banner's surface.
'Material I've never seen before.'
Suddenly, a name leaped into Nareth's mind: the Banner of Macragge.
Memories of the Banner of Macragge followed. This was the most precious among the countless banners of the Ultramarines.
It recorded the entire glorious history of the Ultramarines. It was only brought onto the battlefield when the entire Chapter was deployed, borne by the only officer holding the title of High Standard Bearer.
It had been personally granted to Robert Guilliman by the Emperor.
By the 42nd Millennium, it recorded the names of seventy-seven Chapter Masters, from Guilliman to Marneus Calgar.
'Emperor, why did you give me Guilliman's Banner of Macragge?
'No, it's the Banner of Vostroya now.'
As Nareth pondered, the procession rolled forward, finally completing its multi-hour journey.
He stepped down from the vehicle and approached the Emperor.
A smile appeared on the Emperor's face. He spoke loudly.
"Nareth, you have yet again achieved victory."
"Swift as a Pegasus, you swiftly subdued Valia-Maximal."
"I ordered my artisans to forge this battle standard for you, in recognition of your glorious accomplishments in the Great Crusade."
The Master of Mankind looked at him expectantly. "May you continue to charge forth, defeat all enemies of mankind, and inscribe their names upon this banner."
Nareth's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.
'The Emperor wants me to keep winning victories for him.'
He accepted the adamantium flagpole and cast an appraising glance at the banner's surface.
'It's not a materially valuable reward, but the banner's fabric is exceptionally fire-resistant, and any tears won't be noticeable.
'A durable, hard-to-damage battle standard. The weight of history will inspire the Shadows of Order's honor and morale when it appears on the battlefield.'
Thinking this, Nareth felt it was good enough.
'Hmm, after all, the subjugation of Valia-Maximal wasn't a brutal war. Getting any reward is good enough.'
'Better than just a verbal commendation.'
His thoughts concluded, he accepted the battle standard.
"My thanks for your gift. The Banner of Vostroya shall fly upon every battlefield, leading us to victory in every war."
In the Navia region, Haren Svensalen stared intently at the hololithic screen. His fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, but he didn't notice.
A single, blazing conviction echoed in his mind: he would become a Shadow of Order, and beneath that banner, he would win victories for Lord Nareth.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu