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http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/index.php?app=downloads&module=display&section=screenshot&id=684 File Name: Index Astartes - Space Owls File Submitter: MECHFACE File Submitted: 23 Aug 2021 File Category: Background (Lore) The Space Owls Chapter, or the

Tiberius, Nyel, Cyda and Xeran met outside the Master's personal reclusiam. Tiberius did not know why they had been summoned, but he was more puzzled by the reactions of the officers. They appeared anxious, like children anticipating punishment. "I've never experienced this ceremony before," Cyda confessed. "I have, many times," Xeran answered. "I had hoped it had died with Master Ximo. Trust Dyus to bring it back." Before Tiberius could make his own inquiry the door was opened by Cylaros, the Emperor's Champion. He was a giant, fully adorned in baroque armour and armed with a gleaming blade. He was taller than his brothers, and could almost have passed for a Primaris. "Enter," he commanded, and stepped aside for them to do so. It was decorated very differently to any other chamber on the ship, or indeed any chamber in the Chapter's bastions. The walls were lacquered wood, with alcoves containing simple, personal relics belonging to the Master. Dyus himself was sat at a low table, with a series of culinary utensils laid out before him. "You will be seated," Cylaros said, directing them to their designated places. Xeran sat to the Master's right, then Nyel, Cyda and finally Tiberius. Cylaros then took up position behind the Master, stood to his left. "The rules of the ceremony were passed to me by Master Ximo, who in turn learned them from our distant brothers of the Blazing Kitsunes," Dyus intoned as he began to carefully clean the implements. By his left knee a small heating unit brought a silver kettle to boil. "You will remain silent and observe." A herbal drink was prepared in a porcelain bowl. It had a gilded rim and intricate patterning around the edge. It was passed to Xeran who raised it up to carefully examine the patterns. Then he nodded to his Chapter Master and intoned, "I thank you for this gift of tea," and took a sip. He then bowed with all the enthusiasm of a boy at evening lessons, and passed the bowl to Nyel, who repeated he process. Once Cyda and Tiberius had played their part, the bowl was returned and Dyus boiled a second kettle of water, this time preparing each of them a cup of tea in their own unique, antique cups. All of this transpired very slowly and with exaggerated care. Tiberius could sense the tension grow as Xeran and Nyel were forced to sit idle, doing nothing, while their Master performed menial tasks at a geriatric pace. Even Cyda's patience was beginning to wear thin by the time she'd been provided with her steaming drink. With a nod from Dyus, Xeran turned and nodded to a pair of lightning claws in the rearmost alcove and said dutifully, "they are fine weapons, Master." "They are," Dyus agreed. "They were gifted to me upon Ximo's passing, though I do not keep them to honour him. I keep them to honour the Chapter, for the Chapter has seen them as a badge of office since before I was born. Though I rarely use them myself, it is important the customs and beliefs of our brothers past and present are respected." Nyel offered a follow up question about the age of the talons. Dyus answered and then turned to Cyda, "Now you may pass comment," The tradition continued in this manner, very slowly and formally. Once each of the guests had commented and been answered, they drank and the tea was refilled. Then the entire process was repeated with Nyel, who asked about a fading banner; and then Cyda, who chose to complement an old treatise on warfare, apparently entitled “The Art of Siege Warfare.” Then it was Tiberius' turn. Unlike the Captains, who seemed to chose objects they were familiar with or were expected, the Primaris Sergeant located a more curious artefact. “What is the significance of that spent bullet casing?” “It was the first kill I made with a bolter,” Dyus replied. “Forgive me, Master, but I find that unlikely.” Dyus raised an eyebrow toward the sergeant, “are you accusing me of lying?” Tiberius hesitated, glancing to the Captains for some guidance or support. They returned his look with equal parts curiosity and surprise. “With respect, Master, from what I know of you through our limited interactions, and the way your men speak of you, it strikes me as unlikely you would place sentimental value in such a thing as a spent round.” The eyebrow was lowered, and though Dyus' expression did not change, a subtle softening of his eyes suggested that Tiberius had impressed him. “The protocol of the ceremony requires your silence, sergeant. Brother-Captain Xeran, you may pass comment on the curiosity...” When the ritual was done, which concluded with bows and more slow, methodical cleaning of utensils, Dyus finally appeared ready to address his men. “On to other matters. With regards to our performance in the field...” The Master's gaze fell to Nyel. The leather-faced Captain met his Master's eye calmly, “Nyel, my friend, I have left the Company in good hands. To be truthful I was reluctant to appoint you, and for that I must apologise.” “No apology necessary,” Nyel replied. “You wanted an Iron Captain. Throne, all the Ironforged wanted one of their own raised up!” “I also wanted us to fight together at least once more, to help put their minds at ease.” Nyel's expression quickly became one of shocked surprise, “Oh no, you're not going to pin that on me!” “Who else would you suggest?” “Sorry old friend, but he's right,” Xeran chimed in, “nobody's better for the role.” The Eighth Captain gave a defeated groan, “oh fine, bestow the damn curse on me!” “As you wish,” Dyus replied. He cast a quick glance to Cylaros, who drew his blade and tapped Nyel's shoulders with it from across the table. “I name you Seneschal, defender of Tasal and ward of all our holdings.” “And Emperor damn you for it!” Nyel spat, but he couldn't keep a slight chuckle from his voice. The Chapter Master then turned to Cyda, “and you, Cyda have proven yourself more than worthy of command. I commend your efforts in the hinterlands; you achieved far more than I expected. I shall expect more of you in the future.” “Thank you, I think,” Cyda replied with a slight bow. With Xeran, nothing was exchanged but a silent nod. Then at last, Dyus turned to Tiberius. “Brother-Sergeant, I think we both know I was not particularly trusting of you on your arrival. You have shown my doubts to be misplaced.” “It is an honour to serve, Master,” Tiberius replied with a bow. “No, Tiberius. It is a duty to serve one's master; the honour is to fight beside a friend. I hope that, in time, we will form that bond. For the moment, I suspect our duties will keep us apart. Before I dismiss you I wish to offer you a choice of deployment. You have served beside three Companies now, and if you wish to transfer from the Fifth to the Fourth or Eighth, or indeed to take a temporary deployment in any other Company, you need only make it known.” Tiberius bowed again, “Thank you, Master, but I am content to serve Captain Cyda.” “Very well. You may go.” The Captains rose, but Tiberius remained. “If I may ask, what was the purpose of the tea ceremony?” “Many have asked that question,” Dyus replied. After a pause Tiberius asked, “and what were they told?” “They were told nothing. Now if I may ask, what was the purpose of the ceremony in your opinion?” Tiberius could tell the Captains were lingering, curious about the answer he would give. His eyes turned once more to the bolt round. “I think I understand the purpose of the bolt round. It was a falsehood waiting to be found; a reminder that our enemy is not always in plain sight.” Dyus' expression gave nothing away. Tiberius continued, “the careful handling of the cups requires care and patience, for they are fragile things. Perhaps respect for relics? Or perhaps to teach us that patience and care is as necessary in war as swiftness and might.” Still there was no confirmation or denial. “I think it is an act of meditation. An unusual one, clearly born of a Chapter Cult very different to your... to our own.” “You've done that twice now,” Dyus noted. “my forces, not our forces; my cult, not your cult. You still see yourself as an outsider.” Tiberius wanted to deny it, but he could not bring himself to do so. “Perhaps that is why you find value in this ritual where my Brothers do not.” “Then I was correct?” Tiberius asked. “If that is what you want the meaning to be, then that is it's meaning,” Dyus replied in an uncharacteristically cryptic fashion. “If ever you wish to repeat the ceremony, you know where to find me. You are all dismissed now.” Safely away from the Chapter Master, the Captains laughed together about Tiberius' questioning of the ritual. Briefly, Tiberius suspected the laughter was at his expense, but then he saw the looks of respect on their faces and felt the congratulatory pats upon his forearms. “You made a hell of an impression, Tibia!” Nyel laughed. “I think you impressed him,” Cyda agreed. “and I'm honoured you chose to stay with the Fifth.” “Thank you. And my name is Tiberius, Captain.” The correction brought a fresh round of laughter, “you know, if you're going to fit in you could stand to pick a name that's less... foreign?” “I could stand being called 'Tiber' if that helps,” Tiberius offered. “Good start, Tiber,” Xeran said with a grin. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the firing range; tea ceremonies make me want to destroy something.”