Relatively happy and delicious (?) Preparations for a vigorous (?) The Manifest Steel of Motion.

Take a look at the other side of the Infinite Void.

Before they could truly venture into the heart of the Kalysis sector, the Sons of Dorne's fleet anchored somewhere in the Imperial Fortress World and replenished their expedition one last time with a reserve of psionics, mostly Starwhisperers.

Despite the Chief Navigator they had brought with them from Terra, Lord Karowa, and the Chief of the Star Choir, Lord Kylesassi was not satisfied with the quality of the manpower they could replenish.

Ever since the recent terrible subspace storm and shockwave environment, the Star Choir has lost more than ninety percent of its personnel compared to the day of departure, and has begun to become normal at times, muttering some prophecies that no one understands for many days, and even expressing his displeasure to his new team and the first company commander and others in the wake of his wakefulness, "This kind of Star Whisperer with inferior strength and rough technology! Are they legally registered?! How could you allow such goods to be sent to the noble ships of the Sons of Dorne to serve as carriers of the Divine Word? ”

This forced Karois to send two of his armed servants over to guard the doors and pipes of Kylesasi's private cabin, lest he wake up one day to find the choir leader a cold corpse.

Of course, the working environment is relatively better than the Star Whisperers who have to be immersed in the completely unfamiliar subspace from time to time, so Karowa, who can barely maintain his sobriety, will not directly say this to the additional staff, but in private, he has also expressed his euphemistic dissatisfaction.

Danat Lessander can only say that he can't help the plight of the Star Whisperer and the Navigator Master.

In contrast to some of his unlucky combat brothers, the First Company Commander, as a symbol of the miracles of the state religion and a legendary hero who has always been regarded as a testament to the emperor's favor with the Primordial in the warband, is much more emboldened in the religious and occult sense against certain imperial institutions and personnel.

Nevertheless, he now had to lead his brothers in a long and fervent prayer in the sacred chapel of the ship: the late paradoxical atmosphere of the ship and the entire fleet had reached a tense limit that could not be ignored.

The Gothic minaret of the Chapel towers above the top of the Fury Storm's hull, and its interior is an empty and tall dome with delicate, slender and transparent windows on the sides - don't ask why such an unreasonable and fragile ceremonial design is on top of a battleship that has been battled so much, in short, it is standard on the ship of the Fist of the Empire, and if it were a black sanctuary, the chapel could be twice as large and magnificent - the light of distant stars looked down on everyone from here, cold and scrutinizing, Wait for the opportunity to take away some sacrifice of good fortune or misfortune among them forever.

"My brothers! O son of Dorne! The priest shouted in a voice that was dry from his long shouting of war cries and shouting prayers, "We are on an expedition!" The expedition never stops! We will prove with the pain and exhaustion of the flesh - wield our weapons and forever strike at all aliens, heretics and traitors! We will praise the Emperor in a never-ending battle! ”

"Praise the Emperor! Praise the Emperor! Praise the Emperor! His fighting brethren tapped their weapons along with his words, and a high-pitched response from their hoarse throats reached an even more feverish climax as they saw the First Company Commander come forward.

"My brothers! O brothers who are connected to me by the noble blood of Dorne! And everyone else! ”

The First Company Commander's voice was still loud and powerful after centuries of service and millennial trek in subspace, and he took another step forward, exposing his face to the starlight and candlelight of the chapel: Danat Lysander wore the iconic yellow Terminator armor of the Fist of the Empire, and on the back of his head was an iron halo cast in the shape of a skeleton and laurel, with the inscription "AND THEY SHALL KNOW NO FEAR", A short shaved gray-white hair ran along the top of his head to the back of his head, while the rest of it was shaved to reveal his scalp and plugged into a neural cable to the bio-relay interface.

The look on his face was firm and tinged with a pure sense of honor, and the service spikes glistened on his forehead, telling the story of his loyal service to the Emperor, which made his next words all the more uplifting.

"Ladies and gentlemen! We've made one last adequate replenishment in this fortress world, and I know that some pointless rumors are quietly tarnishing our honor here lately. His voice was muffled, but raised again, grabbing everyone's attention.

"But I will say that your conviction should not be shaken by any rumors, because the sacred task to which we have been entrusted from the beginning has not yet been completed, and until then everything is an obstacle to the fulfillment of our mission. When you are worried, you might as well think about the goal of our trip that I mentioned at this moment, thousands of years! Sons of Dorne! For the first time in thousands of years, we have heard so clearly about the remains of our Holy Fathers! This is such a sacred task that requires us to remain united, and we must clench our fists as much as possible before striking a blow! Gather up your confusion, anger and strength! Pour them all down on the heads of our great enemies, the Iron Warriors! Keep your faith! I know it's a noble request, but that's what I'm asking of you at this moment! Glory to the Emperor and Dorne! Repent! Pray! For the Sage on the throne and Dorne! ”

"Praise the Emperor! Praise to Donne! The crowd chanted in unison again, the ceremonial curtains and flags of honor in the chapel fluttered slightly in the corners of the various disturbed air currents, the servo skulls flew overhead with lit sacred candles, and the servants of the warband, holding incense burners, emerged from the shadows and sprinkled the smoke of incense on each Astarte monk who knelt down in prayer, purifying their bodies and minds and giving them blessings.

Lysander himself was praying for spiritual purification and strength from the Emperor and Rogdorn, and it had been a full thousand hundred years since the first prayers poured out of his tongue, that he could eat and drink—nay, he could even use them as if he were his own weapon—and he could naturally incorporate them into his every breath as if he were using his own weapon.

He had a hunch that this time maybe he would have the highlight of his legendary service — or the end of it. Will the saga end? He didn't know, but he was sure that every Son of Dorne would make it to the end.

Lysander's prayer was over, and he stood up, turned, and raised his trademark weapon, the Fist of Dorne, aloft toward his warriors.

"Hold your arms tight! Get ready for battle! ”

In response, the warriors raised their chainsaw swords at him. The sound of the brand-new First Company of Imperial Fist warriors striking their breastplates with their fists salutes their ancient company commanders.

The Furious Storm's weapons array, shield generators, engine room, and ion reactor were all inspected again, the mechanical priests muttered binary prayers, smeared holy oil on every gear and piston, officers shouted shouts or issued orders on bridges and beyond, and warband servants ran back and forth, each praying as they grabbed whatever they could for the battle ahead.

Wail.

Nothing (?) The transition chapter is mainly to highlight a completely different style of painting on both sides of the atmosphere (turn the eye)

The second chapter has, in the yard

(End of chapter)