#ADEPTUS DADSTARTES

[askatemplarchampion40k-blog]

💝- A memory that made them feel loved

HALL OF THE NEOPHYTE, 940, M41

Doom of Huss, Black Templar Crusade Vessel.

Johan ran his fingers over his new armor. It felt light- everything did. New muscles made pained spasms in his body, and his head felt giddy from a mixture of pain and drugs, but he felt it inside of him- the new organs, the greater strength. Where once stood a man, now, and ascended being, half-way to the sky gods he had worshiped with the others on a world his mind had been stripped of. Whatever past it was, surely this was the desired outcome. Black Templars did not abduct children for the trials- this he knew. All were willing volunteers. Whoever he had been as a young boy, he had wanted this. Now, here he was.

The brother initiates had looked upon him during the early months as one would examine a common object. Why should they interest themselves? Many of his comrades had died during the surgeries and trials that had been undertaken. Why waste attention on the unblooded youth of the chapter, when even their survival was an uncertain non-concern.

Now, Johan sat in the hall of the neophyte. Minutes ago he had taken oaths, been given real astartes weapons, and sent here, to sit and contemplate, until a brother initiate came to choose him.

Others had been chosen first. Brother Initiate Malachai came and took the top duelist, Grimm- sealing that neophytes fate as a likely future assault marine- if he survived.

Techmarine Kellhus took Volkman, who had always been keen of mind and intellect, and so it proceeded as various brothers who could take neophytes came and went. Sometimes, you could tell the castellan had forced the duty upon them, and they were abusive of their charges- or, no- that was the wrong word. They taught in their own way valuable lessons, especially of hate.

Near the end, well known initiate brothers would attend, picking from the stock several neophytes. These were the brothers who trained many at once, and were kind of teacher figures to many in the crusade. Each looked for complimentary skills with which a neophyte might contribute to their combat squads; thus would bonds of brotherhood and camaraderie be earned by supporting one another and learning teamwork.

Now, Johan sat alone.

He remarked, mostly to himself, that the ID slate stated that yesterday was his birthday. This would have been his… 12th? 13th? It was a blurry arbitrary number, for his life as he recalled it began naught but 2 or 3 years ago following the last stage of the preliminary selection period.

Despite himself, Johan felt sadness. His mind turned back to how happy his past self would be to see him now, in a grown man’s body, strong, and passed through every test. Why then, did he feel so unwanted?

Whump. Whump. Whump. Whump.

It was the sound of ceramite boots upon the Doom of Huss’ floors.

“Are you the last Neophyte ?” A gruff accented voice asked. Its tone seemed somewhat dark and apprehensive. Johan glanced up past the mountain of the astartes, armor and all, to gaze at the face of the warrior who addressed him. A deep wound had once chopped part of this man’s face away, leaving the lower right of his jaw dull unremarkable metal as a replacement. Along the axis of his face, a ritual scar of the templar cross was carved into his old leathery skin, forming its nexus on the bridge of the nose just under his eyes.Two large metal protrusions from his forehead indicated further cybernetics encased inside of his skull- or perhaps just the remains of bullet wounds survived to the head.

“Yes, my lord.” Johan said, standing up, his cherubic face a complete contrast to the initiate’s own.

“Initiate Helmuth. Welcome to the chapter.”

Johan nodded. “I am neophyte 24b. Have you selected me for training brother Helmuth?”

Helmuth’s face contorted. “That isn’t a name.”

“Excuse me?” Johan said, confused. 24b was what everyone called him.

“What’s your real name boy?”

Johan blinked. “There wasn’t much hope for me in the combat trials, so I was not given one brother. I am neophyte 24-b.”

“Is this your ID slate?” Helmuth asked, frustrated as he plucked the pad from Johan’s fingers and held it before the neophyte.

JONAH NIELSEN

NEOPHYTE 24-B

TRAINING GROUP 7

“That is, my lord. Its information is accurate from what I know.”

Helmuth seemed more upset, but not especially at Johan.

“First rule- no, first lesson, boy. The Black Templars do not -ever- brook dishonor. You have been dishonored. I shouldn’t know that name you just read- neither should you. Jonah Nielsen doesnt exist. He died martyring himself for a greater cause, as you will in time.”

The initiate offered the neophyte a hand and stood Johan up.

“In our order we change our names to suit a certain style of gothic, one that I can already tell has not even been taught to you. We discard our old names with the lives that lived them. From now on your Johan, and I will be your brother Initiate. Our order hasn’t done right by you. We do not leave brothers behind. I’m going to personally change that. That’s another thing I’ll be damned if I don’t teach you- some proper responsibility, Somebody has to, and it damn well wont be the brothers who failed to give you even the basics.”

Johan blinked, and nodded.

“Th-thank you, brother Helmuth.”

Helmuth grunted. “You will come to hate me boy, then respect me, then you’ll understand, and by then, you’ll be a full initiate. But every neophyte breaks the same, always. I’ve seen dozens of you pups raised up. With you, i think there’s some good potential, but its going to take some time. Consider yourself my personal pet project for the next decade, neophyte. You really want to become a templar? Earn it. Prove it to me. Now follow along, there’s a few words I’d like to share with your training group’s masters. Maybe you’ll get to see a proper astartes duel as well.”

Johan followed along in the initiate’s wake. This, here, was the precise moment he knew why astartes called one another brothers. They were truly all a great family. Johan knew he needn’t feel alone ever again.