"Indeed, Governor," Sarkan's voice trembled slightly, a mix of disbelief and genuine gratitude in his tone.
His armored fingers unconsciously caressed the battle scars on his knee armor: "That batch of supplies—fifty sets of brand-new Power Armor, standard equipment for half a Codex Company, and eighty new recruits supplemented at Rostov—all far exceeded our expectations."
The armor's servo-systems hummed softly with his breathing as he continued, "This allows us to return to our garrison with dignity and strength."
These words were spoken with particular solemnity, each one carrying significant weight.
Suddenly, his posture became extremely formal, the armor's servo-systems making subtle adjustments to position him in the most standard military stance.
"I am deeply honored to receive your private invitation before my departure," his voice became deeper and more solemn, his gaze behind the faceplate fixed on Alex: "I just wonder if there is anything else you need to instruct?"
Although Salkan maintained perfect etiquette, Alex keenly perceived the subtle changes in the other party's demeanor and movements, as well as the wariness in his seemingly relaxed yet always-ready-for-action posture.
This was not surprising—Alex understood Astartes too well.
For any Chapter, the identity of an Inquisitor was like a Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.
Whether it was a compliance review of the Chapter's Codex, an investigation into the purity of their Gene-Seed, or the requisitioning of Astartes for a special mission an Inquisitor needed to perform, all of these meant enormous risk and burden for any Chapter.
Alex did not answer directly; instead, he leaned back comfortably in his chair, asking with a hint of genuine curiosity, "Company Commander Salken, the legacy of the Silver Blades is impressive. Whose scions are you?"
"Nominally, we are a successor Chapter of the Salamanders," Salkan replied, a hint of imperceptible helplessness in his voice, as his armor joints made a slight metallic friction sound: "But in practice, we use more of the Ultramarines' Gene-Seed."
"Oh?" Alex raised an eyebrow, his slender fingers lightly tapping the table, a glint of understanding flashing in his eyes, his voice carrying a scholar's inquisitiveness: "Then your Chapter's history must be quite ancient? Only the era of the Second Founding would have such a blend."
He was referring to that special period—the Great Rebellion had just ended, all Legions had suffered heavy losses, Gene-Seed was extremely scarce, and even the Primarchs had to set aside their pride and support each other during those difficult years.
Salkan shook his head: "Our progenitor Chapter might trace back to that era, but the Silver Blades are merely a successor Chapter split from the progenitor, so our history is not that long. We merely inherited the... legacy of that special period."
Alex nodded understandingly, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table, wisely avoiding this sensitive topic that might touch upon the Chapter's secrets.
He readjusted his posture, crossing his hands on the table, and brought the conversation back on track: "Regardless, the loyalty and bravery displayed by the Silver Blades during the Rostov Expedition have been noted by the Emperor and the Imperium."
The light outside the window suddenly brightened at this moment, illuminating Alex's solemn face.
He continued, "Every fallen warrior will not be forgotten. To express the respect of Rostov and myself, I have a personal gift I wish to bestow upon you and the Silver Blades Chapter."
Sarkan's armor servo-systems made a slight adjustment sound, and he bowed slightly, his gaze holding cautious anticipation.
In his mind, this was most likely a symbolic token—perhaps an honorary medal engraved with the Chapter's emblem, or a jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger; such gifts were not uncommon in interactions between Astartes and other factions.
"Thank you for your generosity, Governor," Sarkan's voice, transmitted through his armor's vocalizer, carried just the right amount of respect: "The Silver Blades cherish every loyal friendship."
He was already considering how to properly place this token in the Chapter's archives.
Just then, the heavy, massive wooden doors of the reception room slid smoothly open under the action of silent hydraulic mechanisms.
Two powerfully built Servitor, moving with precise steps, slowly entered, pushing a large equipment crate equipped with sophisticated damping devices.
A massive Adeptus Mechanicus symbol was printed on the surface of the crate, which was so large it almost occupied the entire central area of the reception room.
Alex's gaze turned to this behemoth, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: "Company Commander Salken, this is my gift."
The Servitor stopped with the Adeptus Mechanicus' characteristic precision in the center of the reception room, their multi-jointed mechanical arms unlocking the complex securing latches with dazzling speed.
With an elegant gesture from Alex, the crate hissed as air pressure was released, and the heavy armor plates slowly unfolded, revealing the astonishing gift contained within.
Inside the crate, under soft internal lighting, a Terminator Power Armor of ancient and majestic design stood quietly on a special stand.
Every inch of its armor exuded the cold luster unique to ancient technology; unlike the blocky design of modern models, the curved plates of this armor presented perfect lines, and the massive energy shield generators on its shoulder pads shimmered under the light, making the entire armor resemble a work of art from the Golden Age.
Company Commander Salken shot up, his Power Armor and chair emitting a sharp hum from the sudden movement.
His breathing became rapid, his eyes wide, his jaw almost dislocated.
The design of this armor was so ancient and unique that at first glance, he even mistook it for some rare Adeptus Mechanicus combat robot—its massive size and unique shoulder structure were utterly different from the rugged style of modern Astartes equipment.
"This... this is..." Salkan's voice stuttered noticeably for the first time, revealing the intense emotional turmoil within him.
Alex's voice chimed in at the opportune moment, with a hint of pleasure at the other's reaction: "Saturn-pattern Terminator Power Armor, Company Commander Salken."
His fingers lightly traced the edge of the crate, "An ancient relic long extinct from the armories of most Chapters, and even difficult to find a trace of in the Mars archives."
"Sa-Saturn-pattern?!" Salkan's voice suddenly rose, as he finally recognized this legendary equipment he had only seen in the Chapter's ancient texts.
His armor's life support system blared an alarm, indicating his heart rate and blood pressure were rapidly rising.
"This... such a precious relic," his voice trembled with excitement: "Can it really be... given to me? Given to our Chapter?"
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and Salkan had to grip the armrest of the chair to steady himself.
The Silver Blades were famously a poor Chapter; their entire Chapter's Terminator Power Armor amounted to no more than five sets, and all of them were pieced-together second-hand goods.
As a Company Commander, he wasn't even qualified to wear one, let alone this Saturn-pattern, which was a rare treasure even for newly founded Chapters!
Was he, a mere Company Commander, truly worthy of wearing such a sacred relic that might be even older than the Chapter's history itself?
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