Chapter 64 Astartes' Leisure Life
"Sigismund, when will you finally win a game?"
"Today."
Sigismund of the VII Legion spoke with the same solemn conviction he carried into battle.
He lost again.
The Seventh Legion's "Hobby Problem"
Before Yuki encouraged the Legions to cultivate leisure pursuits, Sigismund's greatest challenge had been finding enough players for mahjong. The Imperial Fists were not known for recreational enthusiasm.
They trained.
They fortified.
They reinforced.
They trained again.
Sigismund often traveled to other Legions simply to find a table.
Now that leisure activities were officially encouraged, he returned to his brothers with renewed hope — only to find them gathered around architectural hololiths.
"We have formed a civil engineering study group."
"…That is not a hobby."
"It is to us."
Sigismund stared.
The hololith rotated, displaying stress tolerances and load-bearing geometries.
Sigismund left.
Fortunately, a few battle-brothers agreed to play.
Sigismund allowed himself a rare smile.
"I lose to veterans. I will not lose to beginners."
Three minutes later:
"I believe I have won."
"No."
Sigismund leaned closer.
A flawless hand.
Perfect.
Unassailable.
He sat back slowly.
Sigismund's swordsmanship was legendary.
His luck at mahjong was catastrophic.
He had never won.
Not once.
Yet he continued playing with unwavering determination.
Across several Legions, he had acquired a reputation:
the greatest swordsman in the Imperium and the worst gambler alive.
By nightfall he had lost every round.
He tugged at his golden hair in disbelief.
"How is this possible?"
"This is becoming tedious, Sigismund. Do not summon me again."
"Yes."
"Agreed."
Sigismund reached out with uncharacteristic urgency.
"Brothers… one more round."
They withdrew with remarkable tactical efficiency.
The sons of Dorn did not enjoy mahjong.
They enjoyed structural integrity.
They had endured the day purely out of respect.
The Sword Saint was left alone once more.
He would have to visit another Legion.
Again.
The Emperor's Children & the Culinary Cataclysm
"Haha! The soup is finished!"
Akurduana placed the steaming pot upon the table with radiant pride.
No one moved.
Edolon stood abruptly.
"I have recalled an urgent matter."
Akurduana smiled pleasantly.
"Of course. When you return, meet me in the training cages. I wish to evaluate your progress."
Edolon sat down again.
"…after dinner."
He drank.
His face drained to the color of parchment.
"How is it?" Akurduana asked eagerly.
Edolon rose, hollow-eyed.
"To the training cages."
He marched out with the solemn dignity of a condemned man.
The moment the door sealed, the Emperor's Children moved with flawless coordination.
Food into disposal.
Table cleared.
Evidence erased.
They exhaled.
Survival achieved.
The III Legion cultivated artistic refinement unmatched in the Imperium.
Music.
Poetry.
Philosophy.
Sculpture.
Painting.
Akurduana possessed inexhaustible enthusiasm for all of them.
Lucius once studied one of his paintings.
"Brother, your depiction of ancient Terran boars is… vivid."
Akurduana beamed.
"It is a Goromon."
Lucius stared at the violent abstraction of lines and color.
"…a Goromon. Yes. Highly evocative."
He chose survival over honesty.
His cooking, however, was a universal trial.
Even transhuman physiology struggled against it.
Yet Akurduana loved sharing meals.
Respect for his martial excellence compelled participation.
Nearly half the Legion had endured the experience.
Once, Fulgrim entered to find warriors sparring with desperate intensity while Akurduana stood proudly beside a simmering pot.
"Father, would you like to—"
"I have urgent matters requiring my attention."
He departed immediately.
Quiet Hobbies of the Rising Sun Angels
The Rising Sun Angels favored pursuits other Legions might consider unsophisticated:
ball games
competitive wrestling
music gatherings
board games
mechanical tinkering
They enjoyed themselves without apology.
Eusonis, however, preferred stillness.
Reading.
Chess.
Go.
At first he read merely to sit quietly beside Yuki.
In time, he discovered peace in silence itself.
Each page reminded him of tranquil moments spent at her side.
Go spread through the Second Legion, then outward.
Eusonis mastered it quickly.
Now masters came to challenge him.
Zhao Yi placed his final stone and exhaled.
"I have lost."
"Thank you for the match," Eusonis replied. "Am I now the strongest player among our Legions?"
Zhao Yi smiled faintly.
"I am only second in mine."
"Oh?"
Xuan raised his hand.
"I am first."
Eusonis looked between the bearded veteran and the baby-faced warrior.
"…appearances deceive."
He lost.
Completely.
He smiled.
"I will defeat you one day."
Xuan blinked.
"I will be waiting."
More Than Weapons
The Legiones Astartes were weapons.
Everyone understood this.
But they were not only weapons.
Yuki wanted them to remember that.
To understand they were citizens as well as guardians.
Only then could they see mortals not as lesser beings —
but as the people they existed to protect.
Among all the Legions, the Salamanders already embodied this truth.
They maintained bonds with their kin.
They returned to their settlements.
They lived among those they defended.
No other Legion matched this intimacy with humanity.
The Judge Arrives
Though the outcome seemed apparent, ceremony remained necessary.
Yuki arrived aboard the Soul of Vengeance to observe candidates for Model Legion distinction.
Company commanders assembled.
Garviel Loken stood among them, helm sealed, tension tightening his posture.
He had heard the stories.
The Princess.
The Vice-Emperor.
The Emperor's Angel.
But he had never seen her.
She arrived beside Horus like a figure drawn from myth.
Horus smiled with rare warmth as they spoke.
They approached.
She stopped.
"What is your name?"
It took a moment for Loken to realize she addressed him.
He straightened instinctively.
"Garviel Loken, Tenth Company Commander, Luna Wolves. Your Highness."
Horus glanced toward her.
"Sister?"
She smiled and placed a small device into Loken's hand.
"My brother is brilliant," she said softly, "but he is not infallible. I may require your help."
Horus chuckled.
"That is true, Loken. I will rely on you."
They moved on.
Loken remained motionless.
He opened his hand.
A small vox-bead communicator rested in his palm.
Not an ornament.
Not a token.
A responsibility.
He closed his fist around it.
And for the first time since joining the Legion, Garviel Loken understood:
loyalty could carry a weight heavier than war.
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