Editing Conservators (section)

===Knighted, Part 1: The Forge===
Scout Marcus Killian breathed deeply of the forest air as he traveled along, the clip clopping of his steed's hooves on the dirt road the only sound besides birdsong and the wind in the trees as he made his way along the path. To his right of him stretched a great green field, cattle grazing here and there. To his left lay a great green wood, a thick and untamed forest of tall oaks, teeming with life. He turned his gaze to the road ahead, thinking on the long path which had lead him here.

It had been twenty years ago that he had been first inducted into the ranks of the scouts of the Conservators. This followed four years of training and education at the hands of more senior battle brothers, and their approved aides. He learned the art of sword and bow, of stealth and infiltration, of dramatic assaults and mounted combat. He learned mathematics, philosophy, metalworking, weapons maintenance, medicine, a host of skills which would aid him in his long life to come.

He had yet to leave his homeworld of Gallorn, or Gallorn III as it was officially known. He chuckled, in his great grandfather's time nobody would ever have thought that, because the idea of leaving one's world simply would never occur to anyone. So much had changed over the past two hundred years.

It had been over two centuries ago that the Conservators first came to the world of the Asharn March, a young chapter looking forwards to a glorious history of service in the Imperium's name. Unfortunately a series of disasters robbed them of that destiny before they had even set the foundations for their fortress monastery. The Ork WAAAGH, the embargo of the Mechanicus, the total cutoff of all supplies and support beyond direct military intervention from other chapters or the Imperial Guard, all of it had left the young chapter destitute.

But as much had been lost, much had since been rebuilt. New members had been inducted, remaining weapons had been cared for with utmost care, even replicated where possible by tech priests and skilled artisans working with hand tools by firelight. Now, over two hundred years later, the Conservators were a true fighting force to be reckoned with.

Marcus had spent two decades in the service of the chapter, as a scout marine. He had received all of the implants successfully, making him in body a full Astartes, a superhuman beyond the ken of ordinary men. Clad in masterfully crafted steel plate, sword at his side and bow in hand he had spent years fighting the feral greenskins who still sometimes arose to plague his world's beautiful green fields and peaceful folk.

It had been an eventful twenty years. He had built a home with his own hands, inherited his father's tavern, taken a wife who was currently with child. And now he was about to take the greatest step of his life, to becoming a full battle brother. He turned his horse down a cobbled path deeper into the woods, towards the sound of rushing water.

Before the mounted marine sat a solid wooden building with a stone chimney gently issuing smoke. It sat beside a coursing river which turned a large waterwheel connected to he structure, which looked to be both home and workshop. Marcus dismounted, walking his horse to the stable and penning her there, patting the animal before he walked back to the building. It seemed he had been noticed, as a stout man in an apron was waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest. "So, you are the latest scout they have sent to me, Killian was it?" He asked.

The marine nodded. "Yes sir, Marcus Killian." He said politely, standing before the man. Despite how the marine towered over the human, the smaller mortal was in no way intimidated. The Conservators had long since become part of the general population of the worlds they oversaw. While there were still few of them, seeing one about the village in their daily life was nothing too extraordinary. Almost two centuries of constant casual contact had worn out any awe left at the sight of the superhumans. Marcus could tell when someone in his tavern was new by the moment of surprise in their eyes when they saw an Astartes serving mead at the bar, as everyone in town had known him for years.

"Very well, Scout Killian, come with me and let us begin." The man said, leading the Astartes into the building behind his solid little home. Inside it was clearly a smith's forge, large stone furnace set up in the back wall, the waterwheel cranking a small generator, neat wires hanging from wooden rafters as they powered some of the more exotic devices in the smithy. "Tell me, marine, what blade do you envision yourself wielding?" He asked, leaning slightly against a large table.

The Astartes nodded, having thought long and hard on this subject, testing various blades out in the chapter armory in the nearby city. "A hand and a half sword, small enough to wield one handed but with a large grip for two handed fighting, sharpened on both edges and with a straight blade until the point." He said, picturing it clearly.

"Draw it." The smith said, putting out a piece of charcoal and pointing to a hide on the table. The marine nodded, taking the stylus and marking out the image he saw in his head, a simple, sturdy two sided blade, sized for his armored hands. The smith nodded. "Elegant but powerful, versatile and strong. I approve." He said, thinking over the image for a few moments. "Then let us not waste time, I have the forge prepared already." He said, going over to a set of shelves. He got out a strange looking device, some form of exoskeleton which he fit over his right arm, powered by cables dangling from the rafters.

He pointed to the forge. "You work the bellows." He instructed, getting a steel bar and working some arcane looking controls on the side of the forge. The marine worked the bellows as the forge as they heated the metal. When it was red hot the smith removed it, setting it upon the great anvil and swinging his servo assisted arm, the deafening crash of hammer on glowing steel echoing around the forge.

Time faded away as the two worked the forge, hours and days ceased to matter when time was measured by the pounding of hammer on steel, the fiery breath of the bellows and brief moments caught in breaks when food and drink was shared between smith and marine. The steel was heated, beaten, folded upon itself and hammered flat again. Twisted and turned, folded and bent, slowly the sword took shape over days and nights of constant working.

Steam rose from the quenching bucket as the blade was plunged into it, tempered as it cooled. The smith smiled as he drew out the cold blade, laying it down as he took a cloth to polish it. "Almost done." He said with satisfaction. Marcus was impressed, his enhanced body had carried the exertions easily enough, but the smith was an unaugmented human, yet somehow he had been able to shoulder the burden of such an intensive labor with little rest.

The sword blade was polished until it shone, and sharpened until each side carried a deadly edge. It was fitted with a solid cross guard and a slightly pointed pommel that could shatter a skull easily enough. The hilt was wrapped in rich brown leather, thick enough to withstand the wear of power armored fingers for some time before needing to be replaced.

At long last the smith and marine looked at the sword laying on the table. "It is finished, and a fine blade it is." The master craftsman said with pride. Marcus nodded.

"I will be honored to carry it forth, you have my thanks master smith, I only wish that I could have your skills." He said truthfully, never having been one for forging.

The man nodded. "Aye, we each have our talents that's for sure." He said, sheathing the blade and handing the sword to Marcus, resting in its sturdy leather scabbard. He longed to draw the sword, but knew he could not, hanging it on his swordbelt.

"My thanks again, I should be returning home now, it has been a privilege." He said with a bow of his head.

"Fare thee well marine." The smith said with a bow of his own head. "That is a fine blade you have helped to forge. I am honored to know you will carry it forward, beyond this world to your battles amongst the stars."

Marcus smiled, the prospect was as exciting to him as it was to the man before him. Giving his thanks once more, Marcus mounted his horse and rode back down the path towards his home.