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"Немного воспоминаний"‘That makes it seem so placid. No, Variel, it was much worse than that. With the primarch gone, we’d been decaying for years – scattering to the stars, guarding our own supplies from the claws of our brothers as much as from the preying hands of our enemies. But at the end of it all, when the grey sky caught fire with the contrails of ten thousand drop pods, that was the day a Legion died.’
Variel felt his skin crawling. He loathed being near any expression of emotion, even the bitterness of old memory. But curiosity forced his tongue.
‘Who came for you?’ he asked. ‘What size was the force to dare attack an entire Legion?’
‘It was the Ultramarines.’ Talos lowered his head, surrendering to the memory now.
‘A thousand warriors?’ the Apothecary’s eyes widened. ‘That’s all?’
‘You think in such small terms,’ Talos chuckled. ‘The Ultramarines. Their sons. Their brothers. Their cousins. The entire Legion, reborn after the Heresy, wearing hundreds of icons of new allegiance. They called themselves the Primogenitors. I believe their descendants still do. To us, they were still the Thirteenth Legion.’
‘You mean the Ultramarines’ successor Chapters.’ Variel could almost picture it now. ‘How many of them?’
‘All of them, Variel,’ Talos said softly, seeing the sky once again on that distant day. ‘All of them.’
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