Culture Clash

Sisebut studied the suit of power armour in front of him, a golden giant of a statue that radiated supremacy and glory. Sisebut’s eyes traced the High Gothic numerals printed on it, the sleak, smooth plates of the breastplate that marked him out as a new recruit. The armour stood as the embodiment of the Imperium’s power and culture. Sisebut hated it. Athanius strood down the corridor, quietly enjoying the solitude as he was able to read through the data slate in his hand in peace. Whilst some of the other higher ups in the legion wore their robes when not on campaign, Athanius preferred to remain in his armour at all times. It gave him a sense of great honour and a small smile grew on his face. He mentally checked his surroundings out of the corner of his eyes to make sure no one was there to see him. The journey from Certus Minor to the world designated 12-46 would not take long, and Athanius wondered how these recruits would compare to himself and the brothers he joined with. As he continued to scroll through the data, he heard a crash from a room he passed. He paused, and put away his data slate. He turned and knocked on the door. “It is Captain Eurex, open up.” The door slid open and Athanius surveyed the new battle brother and the room behind him. Sisebut stood up straight, not showing any sign of anxiety, shame or anger, which judging by the power armour on the floor was impressive in Athanius’ eyes. “Legionary Sisebut, explain the commotion immediately.”

“Lord Captain. My power armour…” Sisebut hesitated.

Athanius stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. “You disrespected the armour. The legion’s armour. Do you know how Theoderaf, our father, would feel to know you disrespected his armour?”

Sisebut hung his head, his eyes fixed on the armour as he bent down and picked it up. “I am sorry, my lord. I meant no offence to the legion or our father. I beg your forgiveness.”

Athanius sighed and waited until Sisebut had put the armour back upright. “What is this really about, Sisebut? Speak honestly, as Theoderaf is our witness.”

Sisebut nodded slowly, raising his head and meeting Athanius’ eyes and holding his gaze for a long second. “This armour, whilst glorious, is not Certian. There is nothing on here to show our culture, our homeworld, when we go across the stars. I just do not wish to lose what made us the chosen people for the Emperor.” Sisebut relaxed after this, his pent up anger melting away. He stood there, standing straight with pride and a touch of defiance.

Athanius listened, not showing any emotion as he let Sisebut finish, and then he stood thinking for a few seconds. “I understand, brother. We do not write in Certian on our armour like some other legions do with the languages of their homeworlds, but that is not us abandoning our culture.” He gestured to his right shoulder pad. “You see this eagle here? To the Imperium, this is the symbol of the Emperor, representing the Imperium’s glory. But to us, it represents our faith. The eagles of Certus spoke to Theoderaf of the Thunder King, and although our depictions are different stylistically, the meaning is the same. We do not need others to see our culture, the cultures of Imperium and Certus are one now and we bring them with us wherever we go.” Athanius slammed his hand onto his chest plate, covered in spiralling engravings. “These engravings are my culture now, my history. As my ancestors carved their victories onto their skin and monuments, I shall carry on their tradition in this new era. In time you will forge your own, and it shall become part of Certus’, the legion’s and the Imperium’s culture.”

Athanius crossed the distance between them in a single stride, his terminator armour making him tower above the unarmoured Sisebut. His eyes blazed, yet not with anger, but with zeal. “The blank plate is yours, brother. Treat it with respect, and it shall tell your story for the rest of time.”

Sisebut’s eyes began to blaze too, as he slammed his fist into his chest in salute. “I shall, brother. I will bring honour to Certus.”

Athanius turned away and headed for the door. Just before he opened it, he called out. “May the next time your armour falls to the ground be with a foe’s weapon through it.” [[Category:C]]