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The subtle spice of a mentholatum smoke filled the air as the cacophony of varied strategems and the work of war cast a resonant symphony of its own, the beating heart of war as it were, a scene played out in myriad forms across the annals of history for so long as there had been life there had been conflict. It was a fact the Lord General was well accustomed to, each must earn its keep upon the realm and the universe yielded naught to one who hadn't the audacity to stake the claim.... and keep it. Only one thing was acceptable to the Imperium, a persistent forward push and in their diction, the term retreat was all but taboo, a strategic necessity, a happenstance oft not repeated more than once. The doctrines of commanders had varied such and such though Aleksandr, characteristic of his Mordian heritage, sought clockwork efficiencies in his warmachine which stood in stark contrast of the traditional doctrines of the massed assault, he garnered where a bludeon took many hits to maim, a warhammer, a truly honed weapon, intended to get the job done precisely and in as few hits as possible.

They were the Astra Militarum, excellence was not the expectation it was the standard, on the other side of which lay only two fates, death or summary execution nevertheless, advances in a new sector were customarily challenging, unexpected lapses in progress spurning strategic contingencies, myriad acts of heroism spurned upon vox-casters to hold the morale not that Aleksandr was particularly concerned about that of hsi own. To the Lord General's eye, war had been tediously gamified and it was a matter of wit and resolve, the ever-precarious gambit unto which territories and lives were laid on the line but then, excellence was the standard, withdrawal and advance, assault and defense, interception and interdiction, terminologies were better described then when they saw action. The schola progenium had played one part in orienting him to the realities of war, but the greatest tutor had been experience and his time in the trenches as Commissar was not forgotten. But the great game was played with far higher stakes at this table, necessitating what was an axiom what described the Lord General; Tactical Discretion.

In the Grim Darkness of this millenium, each foe presented itself anew, countless strata of varying edicts and battle formations each unpredictable and menacingly effective in its own right, every foe bringing the devastations of their own arsenal to the front leaving humans to do what they did best; improvise, adapt, overcome . Ofcourse, not all was left to chance, the Lord General laid upon each battlefield a meticulously master-crafted magnum opus that in some ways did not vary in their degree of detail from the work of that eccentric tailor that had just been lingering around, but ofcourse, War was a far more endearing and passionate endeavor than cloth craft and such and such. Nothing brought the General as much satisfaction as a well planned surgical strike excising away the buboe which was the ambition of the foe, with fire, plasma, las and more, a palette that he exercised with fervid and furious intent upon that eternal canvas, the auspicious arena, the field of honor. What a privilege and an honor it was to serve the Emperor so, he loved his job.

The only shame was he could not frequent that place as much as he would have liked, for the duties of the office now beckoned to him like wanton wench having acquiesced a new suitor.

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" What news from the front, was that Tau expedition in the southern zone dealt with? "

He inquired taking momentary pause from the smoking pipe as he reclined upon the auscpicious pulpit what which bore the imperial seal, that surely hung above them all, symbolically if not in forme.

" No, your grace. No engagement was recorded by the perimeter patrol, they departed soon after, we speculate it was an impromptu scouting party with some other motive. They did not intend on being discovered, directed by intel our augur arrays were directed to the area with the machine spirits running a more scrutinizing protocol that was able to diffuse the scrying noise put in place by the xenos, we were able to get a lock and I presume they were well aware, this likely prevented an exchange since the perimeter patrol was not appropriately equipped ... er... supposedly. "

Aleksandr pondered for a moment, his semblance conveying neither displeasure nor approval

" Hmn... very well... see to it that I am not mocked... caution is to be exercised for the principle strategy of that particular breed of xenos is to strike from out of sight, we should anticipate that we are being watched, stagger the patrols, change the routines, Commodore, you have my approval to start conducting regular sorties in that zone utilizing our augur-craft. And... have a basilisk division deployed at the second line, so we have the capacity to strike back if caught unawares... "

The officers receiving command nodded dilligently

" In the meanwhile make our claim against the manufactora in Noumensyd for the debt the locals owe us "

Aleksandr added, taking a slow drag off his smoking pipe

At once, your lordship

Aleksandr, issued a slow exhale of the smoke, before returning to thought

" Still no word of that man of Regac's ? He who took the Thrones ? "

Inquired the Lord General

" No, your lordship "

Was the precarious and somewhat hushed response of a subordinate

" Nor will there be... "

Was the sly response issued from a Colonel Martellan, brooding in the corner amidst other officers

" This was a ploy of Regac's to take the thrones and blame another, this man is well hid and your Lordship's money well spent... I wager it.

A subtle grin appeared over Aleksandr's features.

" You have a rare grasp of the conspirator's mind, Martellan... and are to be commended on it. Better us than the Tau, doubtless sowing discord by virtue of bolstering notions of resistance. "

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" Some speak of certainties and others seek to defy them, for better or for worse, there are those who inspire poetic allegory and those who write and sing of it and better to be in the former camp, excess consideration of intricacies whittles the mind, what matters truthfully is absolution in the present. The Emperor beckons us to live while we live, oblivion is a certainty but it is also the end and better therein to invest in the journey than to dream about ends... on my part, I do not wish to keep company with the dead, so long as the heart beats and there is vivacity, Emperor willing we shall go on with vigor. And nothing quite inspires vigor as.... Amasec "

Ruby waves cascaded into crystalline chalice, sweeping unto themselves as rich crimson settled, an exquisite vintage nonetheless, the grape that had given its life for such delectable ends was not without its meaning and the bottle itself paid homage to the vine, to some meaningless theatrical eulogy, to others an epitaph, an edifice of celebration, perspective is what differed, the only flaw was to be so grounded in one or the other, to live excessively or to give in to lamentations and obsess over death. Aleksandr had no sympathies for heartless neuters, a contradiction into themselves, a cry for grandeur ill-earned, a beckoning for adorations unmerited, the expectation of reverence by virtue of ill-fulfilled privilege, misconstrued and ill-afforded by parasites with ulterior motives what would easily be confused for true respect and then in subtle jest to make challenges upon it, but a cliff was neither daunted by the roar of the wave nor did it afford its audience.

In truth, a profound sense of self-respect could be easily mistaken for pride, but the former needn't supplication, it was equally at home upon the throne or within the trench, for its virtue was act, not record. These things became increasingly incomprehensible, hubris was easily afforded to those who narrowed the confines of their horizons to absolute truths, in one forme or the other. And why should one not aspire to some measure of greatness, posterity would not afford recognition to those not emboldened to seek some measure of glory or to defy the mundane simplitude, the principle greatness therein was that a portion of the quill that writ fates was present in the hands of even the unlikeliest of souls. There were those to call Alexander proud whom had not marched the deserts at Opis, there were those to call Caesar proud whom had not baptised themselves in the frigid Rubicon, but were they proud to aspire to something more than themselves and to not be contented with anything less than the world and if kings and conquerors were truly forgotten then they would have no place in the histories of civilizations and peoples far removed from them by centuries.

Carpe Diem... Carpe... Diem.

Or forever be unto those whom should say, it was luck, it was fortune, it was favor, it was far too difficult, it was not known... and so forth. But to be granted a day and not invest it in some measure of achieving greatness was in and of itself not necessarily virtue. The theatrics were well-merited, the bravado festive and unperturbed, the passion unabashed and the will indomitable. The Emperor had not left in his stead those whom should see the galaxy surrendered to others, his gilded visage beckoned conquest and battle to every soul in the Imperium, for therein was progress, the endless, unforgiving, glorious march. And in the end, to possess dignity was to have something to be dignified about, it phased not the wise and self-assured but infuriated those whom had something to envy.

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The lord general issued a slow swirl to the sanguine concoction, a fresh measure of Lho-substrate added to the smoking pipe, easing himself for a moment. The wall decorated with the skulls of various xeno and heretic, trophies taken from past foes and great battles, they were game unto him. Frigid eyes scowered the horizon beyond the window.

" Arpat will be ours "

He muttered, before eyes shifted to the great library beside him, the deeds of the imperiums great heroes, treatises on strategies and great battles and anecdotal volumes on varied disciplines of science, technology and medicine.

" Your Lordship "

Stated one of Aleksandr's subordinates coming forth with a large case, undoing the clips before bowing down on one knee presenting the contents to the Lord General. A gilded galvanic rifle, a true masterpiece of mechanicus ingenuity.

" Ah, Archibald, you've been missed old friend... "

The Lord General added, addressing the rifle.

" The magnificent trait of the galvanic rifle is that it kills yet leaves the corpse intact, well-suited for the mechanicus to conduct their experiments or... for a trophy hunter to process their quarry. Tell them to ready the lander and we'll see if those feral orks continue to be a problem "

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