‘By the Emperor!’ Lyrian flinched as another explosion echoed nearby. ‘We’re here at the worst possible moment. It was so peaceful back at our forge. Why did they send us here? They said it was safe!’

Victorius let out a nervous chuckle. ‘The Departmento Munitorum never makes mistakes, Lyra. It was safe, right up until the Warp rift opened. Since we’re supposed to boost the guardsmen’s morale with our music, I’d say now’s the perfect time to do it!’

‘Very funny, Vic,’ Maximus retorted, examining his cithara with its pathetically dangling broken strings. ‘And I suppose you’ll be drumming with your bare hands?’

More explosions rocked the area as demon roars filled the air. Debris showered down on the trio. Lyrian shuddered, clutching Maximus tightly, each roar feeling like it could be the last sound she’d ever hear. She glanced sideways at Maximus, hoping to find some reassurance, but his face was as tense as her own. 

‘Don’t worry,’ Victorius said, his voice slightly shaky. ‘I heard they recently deployed some Cadians here. They’ll definitely push back the enemy, no doubt about it.’

The demons’ roar grew louder, drowning the explosions. Maximus gazed grimly at the sky, where the Eye of Terror pulsed with an ominous reddish light in the distance. 

‘What a stupid way to die,’ he muttered. ‘Utterly inglorious, without doing anything useful for the Emperor. Just… stupid.’

The demon roars grew closer. Chunks of rockcrete fell from the ceiling as something massive struck the walls. Through the settling dust, a squad of guardsmen in dark green uniforms, led by a Commissar, rushed into their shelter through a breach in the wall. They looked dirty, grim, and angry. The Commissar eyed Victorius suspiciously.

‘Who are you, and what are you doing here?’ he demanded.

Victorius recited automatically, ‘We’re here to enhance troop efficiency and loyalty through musical sounds, as per Departmento Munitorum orders. Musicians. Unarmed.’

‘And without instruments,’ Maximus added glumly, shaking his cithara, its broken strings swaying pitifully.

‘Seriously? You’re here at the worst possible moment!’ the Commissar snarled. He turned away, striking a dramatic pose with his chainsword. ‘Alright, guardsmen! You have ten minutes to prepare. We’ll launch a counterattack as soon as our valiant artillerymen finish their barrage. Intelligence reports that this sudden Warp rift is relatively small, and we’re mostly facing Bloodletters with an advance force of Flesh Hounds. We’ll attack without tank support because, as our revered Lord Castellan said, “Though our tanks and artillery are mighty, it is the vast ranks of Imperial Guardsmen that shall trample the enemy to dust!” Your ten minutes start now. Don’t waste time!’

The soldiers positioned themselves along the wall, transferring grenades to front pockets. One guardsman removed his helmet with Cadian emblem. He sat down next to Lyrian, pulled out a lho-stick, and gazed skyward. His violet eyes seemed to reflect the sky above.

‘Mind if I sit here?’ he asked.

Lyrian nodded absently.

‘Don’t be afraid. We’ll protect you. Back home, they used to say if a Cadian can’t field-strip his own lasgun by age ten, then he was born on the wrong planet. We all could.’ He took a drag from his lho-stick and fell silent.

‘Were you… were you there?’ Lyrian asked cautiously. ‘During the defense of Cadia?’

The guardsman nodded.

‘And you survived…’ she sighed. 

‘Yeah. And we’re still living—for Cadia.’ He paused. ‘Still dying for her, too. It’s how we were raised.’

Suddenly, the explosions ceased. The roar of demons could still be heard, but it seemed to have diminished. The Commissar struck another dramatic pose, raising his chainsword high:

‘’Guardsmen! The hour has come! Remember—we are Cadians, the line that can’t be crossed. We charge where lesser troops won’t dare—and now we’ll prove it once again! Do not forget—we are the Cadian Shock Troops, best by far!’

The guardsmen quickly got to their feet, some raising their lasguns, others retrieving grenades from their pouches.

The guardsman sitting near Lyrian shook his head, donned his helmet, and grasped a grenade in each hand, grinning with a peculiar, fearless, and almost reckless smile.

‘Cadians, attack! Let’s show the Imperium and the galaxy that we care about them!’ the Commissar shouted.

With loud, barely intelligible cries, the guardsmen rushed out through the breach in the wall.

The air grew thick with the smell of ozone and brimstone. Victorius gripped the wall’s edge, knuckles white, then forced himself to look—finally seeing an epic battle he’d only read about.

Amidst smoking craters, guardsmen advanced, unleashing lasgun fire at charging Bloodletters. Cadians with grenades waited behind. The demons screamed, flesh sizzling under laser beams, yet crawled ever forward. Outpacing all other demons, the Flesh Hounds surged forward. Their skin blazed with hellfire, their eyes glowing with Khorne’s fury. Each time they leaped, the air around them seemed to warp with pure hatred. A command was heard, and the lasgun fire ceased. The grenadiers charged forward. They ran towards the demons, winding up to throw. Grenades flew forward—they exploded with terrible echoes of demon bodies being torn apart.

Some Flesh Hounds reached the forces—screams filled the air. The Commissar swung his sword at the demons, shouting, ‘Forward! For the Emper—’ before fangs and claws consumed him. His last words still echoed: ‘For the Emperor…’

The Cadians, oblivious to losses, rushed forward—shooters opening a hail of fire while others retrieved grenades from their pouches, preparing for the next charge. Everything was engulfed in smoke.

Victorius ducked back behind the protective wall and exhaled loudly.

Lyrian snapped out of her daze and looked thoughtfully at the others.

‘I’ve seen this too. They still live and die for Cadia. We absolutely must write a song about this.’

Maximus nodded grimly. ‘Sure, we’ll write it if we get out of here alive.’

‘When, not if,’ Victorius corrected. ‘Listen, it’s all quiet now. The Cadians have won.’