The Veylara Oath Part 2

The council chamber aboard the Sa’cean cruiser was quiet save for the soft hum of engines. Blue-white holo-projections shimmered above the table, casting ghostlight over Tau and Astartes alike. Kaelor and Jorvai sat side by side, armor scraped bare of insignia, their size dwarfing the Tau officers who ringed the chamber. Dahkir Temur lingered at the edge, grease-stained and silent, still smelling faintly of scorched coolant.

Rehn’ith entered last. His step was measured, his long coat swaying behind him. The Fire Caste honor guards who flanked him shifted uneasily in the presence of thirty-three superhuman giants. But Rehn’ith himself betrayed no fear—only a certain weariness that even Kaelor, hardened as he was, could sense.

“My friends,” the Tau commander began, voice even, “I would not call you here if it were not dire.”

The holo shifted. A world bloomed into view—green and rich, its surface pocked with scattered cities and fertile plains. Flames smoldered across the northern hemisphere, black smoke trailing into the atmosphere.

“This is Veylara,” Rehn’ith said. “A colony world of the Dal’yth sphere. Its settlements are young, its people mostly of the Earth and Water castes. Families. Farmers. Scientists. They have little defense of their own.”

The holo zoomed closer. Dark shapes moved across the plains, swarms spilling like ink across the land. At first they seemed like shadows, then the detail sharpened—spined beasts, talons flashing in the light. Tyranids.

A murmur ran through the chamber, even the Tau officers stiffening at the sight.

Rehn’ith’s voice dropped lower. “We sent a garrison fleet, but it was torn apart at orbit. What remains of our defenders are scattered across the settlements, fighting a war they cannot win. Without aid, Veylara will fall within the cycle.”

He let the words hang. For a long moment, no one spoke. Kaelor studied the holo, the crawling tide of alien flesh. He could feel Jorvai beside him, silent, his jaw tight.

At last, Rehn’ith drew a breath. “I do not expect you to answer this call. You are few. Your vision—” his eyes flicked to Kaelor, just for a moment “—is still fragile. To spend your lives here would be… wasteful. I ask not as commander, but as one who has come to respect you: will you aid us, knowing what it may cost?”

The silence deepened. The Tau officers shifted, some looking down at their hands, others staring openly at the giants across from them. The weight of the ask was clear: this was not another escort or rescue. This was war against a foe that had consumed whole systems.

Kaelor turned his gaze to Jorvai. No words passed. None were needed. In that heartbeat, both remembered why they had fled the Imperium. Why they had chosen to carve their own path.

Kaelor stood, the holo’s light spilling over the scars of his armor. “We did not abandon one tyrant to shy from another. Show us the way, Rehn’ith.”

The Tau commander blinked, just once, and inclined his head. He had not expected the answer to come so swiftly, so firmly.

Jorvai rose beside Kaelor, the weight of inevitability in his voice. “We are thirty-three. If Veylara stands tomorrow, it will be because thirty-three stood today.”

For the first time that night, Rehn’ith’s mask of calm cracked. Relief flickered in his eyes, chased quickly by resolve. He bowed low, hands pressed together. “Then the people of Veylara are not yet lost.”

The holo flared brighter, painting the chamber in ghostly greens and burning reds. The Freeborn leaned forward, eyes fixed on the dying world. They had made their choice.