"I am steel and I am doom," Knight-Captain Edwards recited. "I am a cog in the holy machine at the heart of the world. Blessed be the God that was Broken. In its name, I ride into battle."
"Blessed be," replied the Crusaders under his command. The thirty men each kissed the rusted cog that hung from the thin steel chain around their necks, before reverently saying silent prayers to their God.
The moment required a speech, Knight-Captain Edwards decided. It required an orator who could inspire these men to great feats of courage and valor: a Churchill, a Henry, a Robert Bruce. What it had was a retired Royal Marine Commando who had barely passed grammar-school oratory class. He would do his best.
"All right, lads, gather round," he said. "We've all been in the heat together. There are no cowards or slackers here, only good, strong men ready to do God's work. I'm proud to lead you lads into battle: I can't think of a better bunch of bastards I'd rather have on my side in a fight.
"Tonight is going to be a different fight than any fight we've had before. We're not liberating fragments of the Broken from captivity. Tonight we're punishing these infidel wankers for killing our friends and family. Tonight, we're going on the offensive.
"There will be no raiding. No one is going to capture any artifacts. There shouldn't be any, but if there are, you will ignore them. Let them keep their toys. What you are doing tonight is sending a message. You are going to kill everyone you see to show these bastards what happens when you fuck with God's Chosen.
Edwards took a deep breath before going on. "Tonight is going to be the toughest test of your conviction to date. You're going to see and do things that may test your faith. Tonight you are going to see people who look like civilians, the very same people many of you once swore an oath to protect. You may even see people who remind you of the ones you love. You will hesitate. You will question your cause.
"When you do, I want you to remember Open Hands. I want you to remember New Delhi." He took a packet of 3x5 glossy photographs from his vest pocket. "Each of these is a photograph of a man, woman, or child who was killed by the Foundation. I want you each to take one of these and keep with you. I want you to memorize these images while we drive into battle, and when we get there, you will take this photograph and keep it in your helmet or vest pocket.
"I want you to remember that these people, who look like civilians, all have blood on their hands. Their work is directly responsible for the deaths of faithful women and children. Men have died capturing the toys of Satan that they pile up as treasures in their vaults. Remember that these are the fucking blasphemers who have dared to keep the corpse of the Broken hidden away from the world. Remember that it is for their sake that your loved ones have died.
"Do your duty. Remember to stay out of the way of the Mads when they slip their chains. Protect your comrades. Kill everyone you see."
"In the name of the Broken!" Knight-Sergeant Jorgenson bellowed.
"IN THE NAME OF THE BROKEN!" the Crusaders shouted in reply.
As the men filed to their various vehicles, Knight-Captain Edwards tapped his second in command on the arm. "Erik," he said, quietly. "I've got a special assignment for you…"
