'Prepare to receive your armour, warriors of the Emperor,' said Leodegarius.
Uriel and Pasanius had mounted the dais, and the artificers lifted the first plates of the armour towards their bodies with great reverence. First came the greaves, cuisse and knee guards, followed by the power coils of the midsection.
Piece by piece, the armour was layered upon them and as each segment was fastened into place, Uriel felt as though his soul was being rebuilt. Segments of his armour were fixed in place over his upper arms and then came the vambrace and gauntlets.
The damaged section of Pasanius's armour had been repaired with an end cap to seal his armour at the elbow. His friend had declined the Grey Knight's offer of a temporary augmetic, sheepishly saying that he would rather have one fitted by the Techmarines of Macragge.
Adjustments were made, pieces added and each facet of the armour polished and anointed with sacred oils and unguents until all that remained was the final piece. The artificers slotted the breastplate into position and Uriel felt the familiar hiss and whir of the armour coming to life around him.
Fur-lined cloaks of purest white were fastened around their shoulders and secured with golden eagle clips to their breastplates as the gorget clamped around his neck, tight, but not restricting. As the pressure seals engaged, Uriel could feel the internal workings of the armour revitalise his physique, thrumming with incredible potential energy.
Questing bio-implants unwound from inside the armour and connected with the sockets in his body, meshing his organic structure with that of the ceramite plates and indescribably complex workings of Space Marine armour.
Uriel felt the power of wearing such a magnificent suit of armour, his strength boosted, his endurance enhanced and his ability to smite the enemies of the Imperium increased exponentially.
With Uriel and Pasanius's armour in place, Leodegarius stepped forward and handed them gleaming bolters. The flat plates of the weapons were etched in gold and their length was worked with incredibly detailed lettering. The weapons were freshly oiled, each with a magazine of bolter shells fitted snugly into the space before the trigger.
Uriel nodded as he hefted the bolter, the weapon feeling as though it weighed nothing at all. Strength coursed through the armour and he could feel the channels of energy running through it as surely as though it was a second skin.
A Space Marine was more than any one thing, however, more than his armour, his weapons or his training and dedication. Each of these things combined to create something greater than the sum of its parts.
A warrior without a weapon or armour could be killed by his enemies and a warrior without faith and training would fall to petty vices that led to gross treachery.
Uriel had seen, first hand, what a warrior who was not fully equipped, physically and spiritually, could become, and he had walked perilously close to the precipice that others had fallen from. Images of the Warsmith Honsou and Ardaric Vaanes drifted across his mind, but they were fleeting, ghost images, reminders of a dark time that was now passed.
Uriel turned his head to look at the armour, seeing a thick wad of crimson wax attached to the edge of his shoulder guard. A fluttering length of parchment hung from the wax seal, and written upon it in a fine, cursive script was a line from a sermon familiar to Urieclass="underline"
He must put a white cloak upon his soul, that he might climb down into the filth, yet may he die a saint.
Leodegarius stepped back and bowed to them both.
'Welcome back, warriors of Ultramar,' he said.
EIGHTEEN
Fury blazed in Leto Barbaden's eyes as Uriel and Pasanius marched into his private library alongside Leodegarius and a robed acolyte bearing a scented rosewood box. The Grey Knight was clad in a pale cream tunic, over which he wore a shirt of silver mail trimmed in ermine, yet he was no less impressive for lack of his armour.
At the heels of the Space Marines came four others, hastily assembled by the orders of Leodegarius. Cardinal Shavo Togandis came first, sweating beneath his robes of office, which hung loosely on him where they had been fastened incorrectly in his haste to obey the immediate summons to the palace.
Serj Casuaban walked alongside the cardinal, his expression betraying a mix of irritation and curiosity at having been dragged from his works at the House of Providence. The medicae wore a long, dark coat over his functional clothes and his grey hair was combed neatly for perhaps the first time in years.
Daron Nisato and Pascal Blaise walked behind Casuaban, the latter looking deeply uncomfortable in a set of iron restraint cuffs and the former uncomfortable at the idea of them being there, while knowing that they had to be for now.
The governor of Salinas sat in his chair nursing a large glass of port as this procession invaded his inner sanctum, and Uriel felt a flutter of satisfaction at the man's annoyance. He could see the effort of will it was taking the governor to keep a civil tongue in his head, but not even Leto Barbaden would openly risk the wrath of the Grey Knights by refusing an audience.
There was no denying the sense of renewed purpose that filled Uriel. Now that he was once again armoured as a Space Marine, he was ready to stand alongside such heroic warriors as Leodegarius and Pasanius in defence of the Imperium. Though he had no idea what Leodegarius was to say to the assembly, Uriel could feel the tension in the air and the unbearable sense of expectation.
In the wake of the Unfleshed's rampage through Barbadus, the citizens had taken to the streets to variously demand action, recompense or retaliation. Quite who any such action was to be taken against wasn't clear, but the need for something to be done was reaching critical mass. Several buildings had been burned to the ground and widespread looting had gripped the entire northeast quarter of the city.
Daron Nisato's enforcers had taken to the streets in whatever armoured vehicles remained to them, supported by the few soldiers who were willing to patrol the streets after the massacre at the Screaming Eagle's barracks.
The mood on the streets of the city was ugly and all it would take to ignite a city-wide epidemic of bloodshed was a single spark.
Events of great import were in motion and Uriel knew that many of the players in this drama would not live to see its end were they to misstep but a little. The acolyte with the box placed it on the table in the centre of the room and Barbaden spared it the briefest glance before saying, 'Brother Leodegarius, are you sure that this gathering is absolutely necessary? There is chaos on the streets of my city!'
'You are more right than you know, governor,' said Leodegarius darkly, 'and yes, I am sure that this is necessary. Believe me, things are likely to get worse before they get better.'
'Very well,' muttered Barbaden, taking a sip of his port and sending a poisonous glance towards Pascal Blaise. 'Since this… motley band has assembled, might I enquire why you required the presence of a known terrorist, Brother Leodegarius?'
'I'm no terrorist!' snapped Pascal Blaise. 'You're the terrorist, Barbaden.'
'Whatever,' said Barbaden. 'I'll have you executed before the day is out.'
'No, you won't,' said Daron Nisato, resting his hand on the butt of his pistol. 'If we are ever to have peace on Salinas, we will need this man alive.'
Barbaden ignored Nisato, as though he were not even worth bothering with, although Uriel saw his face darken at the unaccustomed sight of a weapon in his presence.
'I will get to that in good time, Governor Barbaden,' answered Leodegarius, looking into the face of every man present, and Uriel had the distinct impression that the Grey Knight was seeing beyond their physical appearance to some hidden quality that only he could discern.