Into the Storm by Larry Correia Read Free Book Online Page B

ruin some Menites’ day. So if you want a piece of that action, shut your mouth and get off the crate.”
    “Yes, sir!” Wilkins hopped down.
    The crowd, disappointed that the fiery preacher was done, began to drift away. Cleasby found himself apologizing to a disgruntled trollkin who muttered something about the army ruining the best shows before stomping off.
    Wilkins approached them and saluted. “The opportunity to bring the light of righteousness to confront the evils of the Protectorate fills my heart with joy.”
    “If you ever question my orders again, you’ll have the opportunity to fill your backside with my boot. Understood, Sergeant?”
    “Yes, sir!” Wilkins stood at attention.
    “Cleasby. Clipboard.” Madigan thrust out his hand. Cleasby gave him the list. Madigan pretended to study it, though Cleasby was fairly sure he’d already memorized it, and addressed the sergeant again. “You were a Precursor knight, a soldier for the Church. Why did you leave the order?”
    Wilkins stuck his chest out a bit. “I had a prophetic vision, sir.”
    “A vision?”
    “Yes, sir. Ascendant Katrena spoke to me in a dream. I saw a world filled with lightning. I understood then that Morrow’s path for me required me to become a Stormblade. I enlisted immediately.”
    Cleasby scratched his head. That explained the possibly delusional part. Even in a world with magic and miracles, it wasn’t like the ascendants made a habit of talking to people directly.
    “And how’s that path working out for you?”
    “There have been . . . setbacks.”
    “As in you’re a self-righteous busybody and nobody wants to serve with someone who’s always judging them and telling them what to do.”
    Wilkins scowled. “It is my sacred duty as one of the pious to point out when my brothers and sisters are faltering, distancing themselves from Morrow’s light.”
    “I bet they love that.” Madigan scowled. “I’ve been told you’re good in a scrap.”
    “Morrow has blessed me with courage and a strong arm.”
    “Do you really want to protect the good citizens of Cygnar from the wrath of Menoth?”
    “Of course I do, sir.”
    “Excellent—but no matter how strong you are, you’ll never get the chance if you can’t function as part of a unit. You want to be a Stormblade, you have to fight as a Stormblade, but they won’t have you. That’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it, Wilkins? Good thing your sermon holds the answer. What was it you were saying all the ascendants had in common?”
    “I believe they all chose to sacrifice something of great value.”
    “Then you’re going to have to learn to sacrifice being judgmental and telling your comrades what to do. The only demands to the men I want to hear from you should be related to the quality of their soldiering and not the state of their eternal soul. You want to lead them to Morrow, you’ll do it by example.”
    Cleasby was grudgingly impressed. He hadn’t expected Madigan to use the Morrowan’s own sermon against him.
    Wilkins swallowed hard. “That will be very difficult for me, sir.”
    “It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice if it wasn’t difficult, now would it? Welcome to Sixth Platoon, Wilkins. Now, let’s get you two sergeants properly suited up. I want to make a grand entrance for this next one.”

    The area around the Black River docks was the roughest part of Caspia. It was a rather stark difference from the pristine marble churches of the Sancteum. The buildings here were just as tall, only instead of being filled with books, artwork, and holy relics, they were packed with poor people. The farther they got off the main road and into the warren of tenement buildings and smoke-belching factories, the more uncomfortable Cleasby became.
    It didn’t help that he and Wilkins were clanking along in full suits of blue and gold heavy storm armor and carrying huge galvanic swords, so everyone was coming to their windows to gawk. He felt awkward, clumsy,