"Death comes to us all", shouted the Commissar. "Death in the service of the God Emperor comes only to the privileged few." The conscripts cowered, except for Alfus from Belisimar.
"Death should be slavering for that one", he whispered to his friend Theodosius, "if there is any justice". Alfus had been press-ganged into a New Etrurian Free Company while drunk after a works night out. Sweetfruit had pulled his power sword out and was slashing it through the air around his head. The power in this blade made the air sparkle and sing as it swept from ear to ear. Sweetfruit's blade was a family heirloom and had been handed down through four generations of illustrious ancestors until it had arrived at their unworthy descendant, Tatum Sweetfruit, Commissar by privilege and inheritance.
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