Sicarus entered the hall, once it would have been a grande hall, but with the decay and dust it could no longer hold that title. As he stepped forward he once again saw the silent rows, 10 abreast and 4 deep. Upon a raised platform stood another 10, and sitted in the middle one seated. Above hung skeletal flags, once glorious victory banners from an age past. Light flooded into the room from the stain glass windows that flanked both sides, and dust lazily fluttered in the sunlight. Beneath his feet and leading up to the seated figure was a tattered carpet, once it might have been red, but little remained of it.
Before him stood the Silent Angels.
Each power armour suit stared directly forward, eeriely it appeared as if they saw something he did not. The layers of dust coating their armour gave him some comfort. For he knew it had been some time since any of them had moved. He believed them to be empty, but his predecessor claimed they were filled with statues of stone.
He began his steady approach to the seated figure, his augmented leg giving him a limping gait. Behind each of the figures on the platform was a giant suit of armour. Each one held its helmet in it’s hand, reassuringly showing that the armour was indeed empty. There at least. He was told these were suits of armour called terminator armour.
He reached the seated figure. The figure did not wear his helm, it was placed down beside his throne. Each hand clasped his throne arms tightly, and his stone grey face looked filled with sorrow. His eyes were closed. Sicarus knew that this was the only one of the Silent Angels that still lived and breathed, he was told the rest died long ago.
“My Lord. I bring news that requires your attention,” whispered Sicarus. There was no response, and he stood there for a few moments. He then cleared his throat and repeated loaded.
“My Lord. I bring urgent news that requires your attention”
From this louder tone the eyes upon the statue opened, and dust crumbled from its eyelids. The golden coloured eyes that opened seemed filled with a faint life. It opened its mouth, but all that was expelled was a wheezed whisper. Sicarus quickly brought up a flask of water to his Lord’s mouth. It took one glup of water, and a small amount trickled down his chin cleaning a track of dust from his face.
“What… news? Have… have my brothers arrived?” whispered the statue with a tinge of hope.
“I’m afraid there is no news of your brother’s sire. It has been two hundred years as far as I can glean from the reckons since we last heard from them,” replied Sicarus.
“My brother’s will come. The glory of the 12th company will return. Shall it not brother Caylus?” whispered the statue, once the Captain of the 12th company. As he spoke the name Caylus he turned his head towards one of the silent suits of armour to his left. Caylus once the Forge Lord of the 12th Company.
“Caylus died over 300 hundred years ago Lord. You have sat here immobile for 200 years. I have a request from terra here,” spoke Sicarus. He pulled a rolled scroll from within his robes.
“Poor Brother Caylus. Don’t worry Caylus the Chapter Master himself promised us fifty battle brothers. The ranks shall swell again. They are in transit Caylus. Is that not right Adept Tomas?” The Captain’s eyes blazed with hope.
“I am Adept Sicarus. Adept Tomas died long ago. There are no new recruits. Terra asks that the suits and equipment we have here are reassigned to help the formation of a new chapter. Will you send them a response?” replied Sicarus angerily. He grew more and more impatient that he got the same questions every time he returned to the Captain. He was beginning to surmise as to why his predcessor took his own life. This Space Marine was but a shadow and a mockery of the Adeptus Astrates he has read about.
A tear ran down the Captain’s face. “The company shall rise again. Give me word when my brothers arrive” spoke the Captain. His eyes closed.
“Sleep well my Captain. Perhaps one day your dreams will come true”
Sicarus turned around and left this hall of sorrow and memories.