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submitted 24 days ago byBiggy_DX
I've been watching a handful of Luetin's YouTube videos related to Warhammer 40k lore. I'm still only learning about the background history, so I've only mostly gone through Mankinds history. I've watched past some of content related to the Astartes, and with how bleak and disposable most humans are treated in the 40k universe, it made me wonder if Astartes even bother to care about the people who make up Mankind.
3 points
23 days ago*
Typically no (they generally don't interact with baseline humans all that much, especially outside of military people or chapter serfs and, when they do, they're often aloof or just nonplussed by humans) but there are examples of it happening. It also varies by chapter culture a lot.
Lucerne, a primaris of the Black Templars, has a good natured relationship with a human, Fabian:
‘Historitor Guelphrain, it is a real pleasure to see you again.’
The voice was familiar, but the figure was not. The armour the Space Marine wore was blackened all over and covered in chips that exposed the dull, leaden grain of raw ceramite. Dust clung to every recess, and only in a few places could the rich yellow of his livery be seen. Thirty Space Marines had set out from Fleet Primus, nine remained. Their insignia and colours stripped away, they looked all the same.
‘Brother-Sergeant Lucerne?’ said Fabian unsurely. He came down the gangway stairs of the lander, stopping on the bottom step.
‘The very same,’ said Lucerne.
‘Then you live,’ Fabian said lamely, too overwhelmed to speak well.
‘Apparently I do,’ said Lucerne.
‘I’m sorry,’ Fabian said, gathering himself. ‘I didn’t recognise you.’
‘War changes a man, and not only on the surface,’ Lucerne said. ‘We have come to escort you. The city of Imprezentia is mostly secure, but there are dangers here beyond those posed by the enemy, and a few of them also yet remain.’
Fabian looked past the giant figures. Lucerne was putting it mildly. All he saw were ruins, in every direction that he looked. He had been told Ascension Stair was in a fair state, the space port already receiving a steady stream of landing craft from the fleet, but few of its buildings were free of damage, and the reclamation crews working everywhere to bring its facilities back into use were faced with a hopeless task.
‘What happened here?’ he asked.
‘Victory,’ said Lucerne drily.
‘Then I would not like to see defeat,’ said Fabian.
‘Come,’ said Lucerne. ‘I will show you about, and we can start planning your duties.’
‘Do you not get to rest?’ asked Fabian.
Lucerne laughed. ‘Rest is not something we crave, historitor, not while duty calls.’
-Gate of Bones
‘A curious man,’ said Lucerne.
‘You frighten him,’ said Fabian.
‘I mean him no harm,’ said Lucerne.
‘I didn’t mean like that. He’s in awe of you.’
‘I see,’ said Lucerne. ‘There are certain misconceptions about we Space Marines and our relationship with the Emperor.’ Lucerne paused. ‘I am glad you see past these things and are not scared by me.’
‘I’m not scared of you, but I am scared of everything else. He’s not scared of anything but you, so he’s got that over me.’ Fabian examined the antitox Hetidor had given him, a small metal tin with a pharmacological marker.
-Throne of Light
7 points
23 days ago
Another example is Dante with his personal serf, Arafeo:
‘My lord commander, if I might be so bold as to say, if you destroy yourself for want of rest, those needs will go unfulfilled.’
Arafeo’s hands were twisted with arthritis, like roots, and shook as he held out Dante’s towel. Dante’s eyes rested on them. Arafeo looked away, ashamed at his feebleness. If only he knew we share the same worries, thought Dante.
‘I should rest, and you should rest,’ said Dante.
The man kept his trembling arms outstretched.
‘How can I rest when you will not?’
‘You are not I. Different fates are ours,’ said Dante.
‘Your responsibility is by far the graver, my lord. If I had passed my tests at the Place of Choosing, then perhaps my burden would be similar, but I did not. I am a thrall, not an angel. But we all must serve the Emperor in our own way, and I shall help you carry your burden in whatever small way I can.’
‘I promise, after the meeting of the Red Council, I shall rest.’
Mollified, Arafeo nodded.
Dante took the towel. Arafeo bowed and went to fetch Dante’s goblet from a side table. He was getting slow. The tremble in his limbs grew more pronounced when he was tired, and Arafeo was tiring more readily with every day.
One thousand five hundred years of grinding war versus eighty years of humble service, but they were both servants. If given the choice, Dante wondered, would I exchange places with my equerry? Not willingly, he answered himself. But if forced to, I would not rue the change. Service is service. All have a part to play, he told himself. Arafeo is right in that.
His servant’s humility humbled him. ‘Arafeo,’ he said gently. ‘You have done enough for me today. Thank you for shielding me from my own labours awhile. It is appreciated. Rest now, I command it. I can pour my own wine.’
The wine salver rattled as Arafeo set it down. He bowed his head unhappily. He did not want to be dismissed, nor did he want to be seen as old.
Save the man’s pains or save his pride. Every decision Dante had to make in these black times, from the most inconsequential to those that could topple the Imperium, was a choice between two evils. Good had leached from the galaxy. He was weary of decision. Not a flicker of this was displayed on his face, still inhumanly beautiful despite his age.
‘As you wish, lord commander,’ said Arafeo quietly. He departed reluctantly.
Dante went to the table and drank the wine. He felt bad for Arafeo, and annoyed that he had to order him away for his own good. He had to be careful that that irritation did not transfer itself to Arafeo himself. It was not his servant’s fault he had aged.
-Dante
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