Regullus listened intently, showing a care and even compassion most astartes lacked, and nodded to the Guardsman’s questions, “It is simple, you will find your first payment will enter your accounts on the morrow. Points will be earned through training and the occasional practice bout our master holds for friends.” The marine’s deep voice echoed around the courtyard. The recruits then made their way on to different activities, though the astartes noted the Eldar with annoyance, “Always so arrogant, he seems to have forgotten who won the war, it is by the grace of the Emperor he yet draws breath.” With a snort he headed for the training grounds himself; perhaps he’d show them a thing or two, after all the current Champion of the arena was his first pupil.
Skippy snorted in derision at the recruits, his prejudices obvious as he inclined his head to the Guardsman, “I’ll put you on a line of credit and you can pay it off as you go, it’ll come to a combined total of five hundred credits, only fifty for the pistol, the fatigues will be a little harder to find.” He then turned a lip up at the Ork, “I’m afraid such items are beyond my reach, chances are they’ve been re-attached, amazing how far the medicae have come these days.” He snorted again, flipping the Eldar a rather rude hand gesture, “You’ll take what you’re bloody well given xeno scum.” He taunted. His jaw dropped at the sight of the beautiful Lithe however, as prejudiced a man can be he can still fall prey to the beauty and wiles of femininity. “Of course ma’am shouldn’t be hard to come by, three hundred credits should be enough to cover it, and I’ll start your line of credit as well.”
The new day dawned and the training grounds were full of Unorian gladiators, at the far end the best the House had to offer trained amongst themselves in a tight knit group, the reigning champion Titus stood above the rest, fending off blow after blow as each fighter charged to test themselves, as one particularly brawny Eldar bounced off his shield the Astartes laughed good humouredly, “Well done Stranos, but watch your foot work, a season off has dulled your senses!” the Eldar in question grinned and flipped a rude hand gesture at the Champion.
“Emperor knows it’s the only reason you’re Champ!” he laughed in return, the assembled group, clearly old friends, all laughed good naturedly before continuing their training. Old man Unor observed from a balcony, Regulus beside him.
“Well old friend, what do you think of the new comers?” he asked.
“They have promise, but attitudes will have to change and fighting styles will have to be polished, and I think I have just the man for the job.” The Astartes pondered, “With your permission master?” the old man nodded.
“Of course Regulus.” He motioned with a hand and the marine faded away.
“LINE UP YOU USELESS LITTLE GROX TURDS!” The drillmaster of house Unor ordered. Regulus bawled and spluttered in a manner typical of any military trainer, “Now I’m sure you all think yourselves quite heroic and strong, I have news for you, those wins of yours meant nothing, it’s now time you learnt what a real fighter is, Titus!” he called and the Champion fell in beside his mentor, “Who among you thinks they can mix it up with my star pupil?” the veteran asked as the marine in question rolled his shoulders in his padded training armour, his blunted sword and round shield hung loosely in an easy grip, a slightly cocky grin plastered across his face. “I’ll even make it worth your while, two points will go to anyone who can last a minute with him.”