Chapter 43: 1st Year: The Wall I
POV: Commander Frag
I gazed upon the barren wasteland, its scorched terrain now littered with the remains of heretics and scum. My warriors were scattered throughout the former bandit encampment, salvaging war-gear and usable materials. The wounded were being assisted by their brethren, limping toward the medicae carts for rudimentary treatment.
*"Hmm. That's the sixth encampment purged. The outer perimeter is finally secure. Phase two may now commence."*
With that thought, I called out across the field.
"Goss! Get over here!"
"What do you want, you Emperor-damned bastard!?"
The reply was immediate and loud—Goss was trudging toward me, his expression twisted into a permanent scowl, as if merely responding to me cost him something dear.
"What now? Wasting my damn time again?"
He barked once within arm's reach. His blatant disrespect grated at my nerves, but I forced myself to maintain composure.
"Huuu. Phase one is complete. We move to phase two—construction of a bastion. We need a forward stronghold to halt any further incursions from these bandit vermin. You're leading the construction."
I spoke in a commander's tone, arms crossed, my gaze fixed in the direction from which the filth usually emerged.
Behind me, I heard Goss scoff, his muttering barely suppressed.
"Tch. You're lucky the Boss picked you, you thrice-cursed bastard. If not for Jacob's orders, I wouldn't have followed your idiotic crusade. I would've continued working on Leon's armour instead."
I waved him off with a dismissive gesture, not dignifying his disrespect with a reply. Yet, at the mention of **Leon**, my thoughts briefly lingered.
*"Young Leon... Reports say you've finally awoken. Huh."*
I remained in place, watching the corpses and debris being cleansed from the battlefield. After nearly an hour, one of my subordinate officers approached and saluted crisply.
"Clean-up complete, Commander."
I gave a firm nod.
"Make camp. This site shall become our foothold. We hold here until the construction crews arrive. Understood?"
"AWOOH!"
The thunderous confirmation echoed through the ruined camp. Satisfied, I made my way to my temporary command post within one of the few still-standing hab-blocks, two officers at my side as we prepared for the next phase.
---
**POV: Goss**
"Tch. Emperor-damned bastard…"
I growled under my breath, trudging toward my quarters—an untouched building within the camp, now repurposed as my sanctum. The room was chaos incarnate: traps, weapon schematics, data-slates, and cogitator parts strewn across the floor like an offering to the Machine Spirit.
I pushed through the mess and reached my comm-link array. With a few taps and coded pings, I established a vox-channel and summoned the construction servitors and tech-adepts from the primary base.
That task complete, I grabbed a blank blueprint parchment and tossed it onto the workbench. My mind already began constructing the schematics for a defensible bastion.
"Throne-damned idiocy… I should've stayed buried in my forge-lab…"
I muttered bitterly. The workload was unholy, even by Mechanicus standards.
I sighed and continued drafting, the only respite in my mind being the memory of **Leon**—and how much more tolerable his leadership had been.
---
**Two Months Later**
**POV: Commander Frag**
The sounds of the industrious echoed throughout the newly risen fortress. Standing atop the parapets of the bastion's walls, I surveyed the fruit of our labor.
Two months had passed.
The outer walls were fully constructed—armored with steel plates and reinforced concrete, bolstered by manned autocannon turrets designed by Goss. Patrols roamed both the ramparts and the perimeter beyond. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.
Reinforcements had arrived from the central base—**2nd Company** deployed at last. From my reports, it wasn't Varn who commanded them, but Jole. I stifled my disappointment; though I must remain impartial, I would've preferred Varn at my flank. Jole was... unpredictable.
Fate, as always, served us no favors.
I grunted and recalled another bothersome report from base.
"Damn it. Kids these days are an Emperor-damned pain..."
I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. Leon's disappearance from base had stirred a storm, and thankfully, I wasn't present when **Jacob's** fury was unleashed.
Just as I managed to settle my growing migraine, one of my officers rushed up the stairwell of the wall, saluting quickly before reporting.
"Sir, 2nd Company will arrive within three days."
I nodded and motioned for him to continue.
"Our scouts embedded within the outer bandit sectors report that the two closest factions have consumed all remaining smaller groups within their range. They've now joined forces."
My eyes widened in alarm.
"Where are they now?"
My tone turned grim, darkened by a mounting dread.
The officer hesitated but pushed through his nerves.
"They haven't aligned with the other four bandit factions as predicted, sir. After merging, they began moving… directly toward us."
Without another word, I turned and slammed my fist into the nearest **alarms-runic node**, triggering a fortress-wide klaxon. The shrieking wail echoed across the bastion like a battle hymn.
"All units—**Stage Four Alert!** Arm yourselves and man the defenses!"
My voice carried like thunder across vox-speakers as servitors, gunners, and infantry leapt into motion.
I turned back to the officer.
"How many?"
His voice wavered.
"Approximately 1,500 hostiles, sir. And closing fast."
My jaw clenched. My fists curled tight around the railing.
*"Throne of Terra… grant us strength."*
I silently offered a prayer to the Emperor.
The bastion would hold. It **must** hold. There was no other choice.