The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
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- Elsewhere
Oh, I see. In that case putting runes on souls generally tends to lead to one of three things. The first is that the rune eventually tears apart the person's soul. The second is a portion of that concept becomes a part of that person. And the third is the concept takes over the person entirely (rare). Willpower plays a key role in this process, and so if the second case is met, then that person generally can be considered an Eidolon of a god that doesn't exist, blessed by a concept that doesn't truly exist. While the third outcome is more like creating a daemon of that concept at a varying rank based on the person that was used to create it.
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That's less a Purity rune and more an altered Purge Rune. So it's essentially Purging parts of Abdul that are disliked with time.
What sort of context would Ravenloft have on this sort of thing? Also, a "person generally can be considered an Eidolon of a god that doesn't exist, blessed by a concept that doesn't truly exist."
What sort of individual qualifies for that? Does a Space Marine count as one for the Primarch? Does a Custodes or Sister of Silence count for Emps? One can argue that they are Eidolons because of their metaphyiscal nature.
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Is it purging things that others dont like or is it purging things he doesnt like?
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
So either Abdul is now on a time-limit of life, or he's now an Eidolon for the non-existent Purge God?
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
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- I move alot.
Also, wait, what happens if you put a Rune on yourself that very much does have a god that does exist? Like a Rune of Espionage on yourself when Alpharius Omegon exists? Or a Rune of Love with Venus? Or even Kesar himself with a Rune of Daemonsbane if Kesar becomes basically a Daemonsbane god at tier 11?
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For that, it effectively violates one of the leading theories when it comes to gods and eidolons, so yet again back to the drawing board. As for individuals that qualify for that, that would be someone who has a strong will, but also truly believes in the concept to a high extent. So Custodes would count for Emps, and Astartes for Primarchs.
Yes, it's effectively weighted. Half of the effect is from him, half from the people around him.
Yep, that sums it up well.
Generally for higher level runes the threshold to not break your soul or turn into a daemon is much, much higher.
Effectively it's tapping into their power supply. So it's vulnerable to being subverted.
Ravenloft might be one of the few organizations in the setting that has to constantly reevaluate and change their parameters for research. Science ain't easy. Trying to science the divine sure as shit ain't any easier.
Fucking hell, that makes the Custodes bodies recovered by the Raven Guard a fun asset for research now. Also, this brings up another question.
What the fuck is a Chaos Space Marine then? Is it just a corrupted Eidolon or is it something more?
A Treatise On The Alien Mechanism's Fundaments
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
A Treatise On The Alien Mechanism's Fundaments
Kesar Dorlin sat in his workshop aboard the Vigilance, studying one of several Hrud Fusils that had been gifted to him by Horus Lupercal some decades prior. The Warp-sciences that had gone into their creation were beyond the ability of any in the Luna Wolves to understand, and so Lupercal provided them to the brother he knew was deeply invested in the study of Immaterium-based technology. However, the Daemonsbane found himself no less puzzled than the Techmarines of the XVIth Legion. He could understand the basic theory: the fusil would fire a beam of star-like energy seemingly akin to that of a Melta weapon, generating plasma along its path as a byproduct and moderately increasing its potency upon striking a target. Along its path, the beam would slip past the Veil and enter the Immaterium before reemerging in the physical universe, sometimes even on the inside of a target. His gauntlet-mounted weapon, Sagitta, was similar, though he did not invest the time into fully understanding how the device's teleportation system functioned.
Now, however, he was finding his studies stonewalled by a factor that in hindsight should have been obvious to him: he could not understand the underlying logic behind the Xenos' design philosophy. The Fusil at a glance was not dissimilar from many Imperial weapons and although less ergonomic was still perfectly useable by an average human being. Yet this was where the similarities ended. The ammunition held a vague resemblance to Imperial plasma cells but was clearly not any manner of mundane gas. There was no chamber wherein the energy would be gathered. There was an unusual pillar where the sights of a conventional gun would be, and this was an active detriment towards one's aiming. The inside of the barrel from what he could see was a simple metallic cylinder, lacking in any focusing arrays or energy coils.
It was only the Sight that saved him from utter cluelessness, for through the Warp he could begin to see some of the underlying functions of the strange machine. The arrangement of seemingly purposeless components upon closer inspection appeared to resonate with and shape the Warp around the weapon, even when not in active use. When fired, Kesar saw how the foreign Machine Spirit came alive and skidded across the Veil in a manner the Daemonsbane had never witnessed before. Whether or not it was related to how the beam would phase into the Immaterium, he could not say for certain.
However, these tests did give the Primarch a realization as to what he had been missing. He attempted to go about this project as though he were studying a form of advanced or strangely modified human technology, yet this was clearly not so. The Hrud were a species who could innately manipulate time, and so their minds would naturally not be expected to perceive the material universe in the same way as a human. Thus, in order to understand technology produced by an alien mind, one must first understand the alien mind itself. And so the Daemonsbane set aside the Fusil for another day and began a much more basic study into the nature of the Xeno.
The Cult Mechanicus' Holy Order of Genetors contains within it a brotherhood dedicated to the study of the alien form. These Magi Xenologis have over the ages produced a vast and carefully protected catalog of vivisections, dissections, mental observations, and even sub-cellular chemical analyses. Xenotechnology analyses meanwhile tended to be spread across a series of other, more specialized brotherhoods, such as the Cybertheurgists who often are called upon to find ways to access and disrupt alien computers. Deciding to expand his investigation to encompass non-human lifeforms of all kinds, Kesar made requests to access uncensored copies of thousands of studies spread across a dozen different Tech Priest disciplines. For the Primarch of the XIth Legion, the wait for confirmation was very short.
"I fail to see how this related to the Fusil project, Father," noted Bodin, the XIth Legion's Master of the Forge. "Eldar, Orks, Psybrids, Mitu, Bone Drinkers... Scarcely one in ten of these species look like they could aid you in understanding the Hrud, and even that is a generous estimate."
"This has gone beyond the Hrud I'm afraid, Bodin," noted Kesar, drawing a series of blueprints intermixed with images of eyes, brains, and even stranger organs. "I may believe I have found an understanding in how the Hrud and their machines function, and I may even be right, but if I were wrong, I would not know. After all, I have far too limited a perspective to be able to say. The first step to this project is not the Hrud, but Xenos in general."
"You've lost me, Father," admitted the Forgemaster, linking his cybernetics to a dataslate containing information on the Laer, which had been provided by Magnus the Red some decades ago. "Saharduin for example have next to nothing in common with the Hrud. Beyond 'this is different,' which I think would be self-evident, there are no connections to be drawn and so no insight into one by studying the other."
Kesar paused for a brief instant, considering his son's words. "In a way, yes. However the problem I've come across is an inability to grasp intentionally what the Hrud know intuitively. The more I am able to see through the aliens' eyes or lack thereof, the better equipped I am to understand how the Hrud function. I'll never be able to do so perfectly of course, but with effort and some training I should be able to place myself into a mental space where it is close enough to be able to reverse engineer their technology."
"I take it you'll not need my assistance then?"
"No, I will. I need someone to be able to test my theories against. This is all a matter of perspective, and so I need someone to compare my own mental efforts against what we know to be true based on the end products without directly informing me and thus biasing my processes. Only when I am able to reach a similar conclusion without following what has already been laid out by human 'outsider looking in' intellects will I have become at least proficient in mentally replicating alien technology."
"...Is this a psyker thing I'm too normal to understand?"
"Perhaps. If I could not access the perception-distorting properties of the Immaterium I honestly do not think I could do this. A man who is blind would struggle to understand how to create effective holographic sights, but if he were a psyker, he could absorb the feeling of having sight from the Warp and thus have a better grasp on the subject."
"And in this case, you are attempting to do this with regards to alien thought patterns and senses."
"Exactly. However, in a vacuum I cannot confirm if I am working in the right direction or being led astray. I need something to compare these feelings and intuitions to, and that is where you will be of great help."
"And once you've mastered this... meditation, let's say... you believe you can reverse engineer alien technology?"
"That is the hope."
"You are most fortunate the Cult holds you in high esteem. To try and replicate the alien mind and in turn replicate the alien mechanism would be controversial for most to put it lightly."
"The Alien Mechanism is a Perversion of the True Path, I am familiar. But that gives good reason to study it. All perversion must be formed from something unperverted, so retracing its steps to the origin should reveal the Knowledge from which the divergence occurred."
"I did say controversial, Father, not outright Techno-Heretical."
"Fair enough."
"... Do you actually believe any of that, Father?"
"Hm... for the most part, I would say so, though not always in the most literal sense. Obviously there have been alien species and alien technology before the human race as we know it came into existence. But should the Machine God truly exist and function as the source of all Knowledge and existence, it would stand to reason that all technology is, however tenuously, interconnected in some way. Whether or not he does is another matter, and to put it bluntly, I do not Know."
"A respectable point of view, Father. I can see why Kelbor-Hal likes you."
"Thank you. Now, where do you think we should start?"
"Let us begin with the Orks. They are simpler and will return sooner or later anyway..."
A/N: Here is an Omake for Basic Xeno Design Principles. Turns out having access to the realm of thought and emotion that all species contribute towards makes it easier to look at things from their POV. To be honest I am pretty glad we didn't research it prior to becoming a psyker because I really feel like that status will help its effectiveness, especially considering its main effect would be to give extra Warptech uses that previously were not thought of.
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It varies based on how many "blessings" they're given. A bog standard CSM would basically just be that. But someone like Abaddon the Despoiler would be closer to an artificial materium daemon.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
I've made my choice. I have a feeling Magnus will need this more rn.
Epsilon, Eternity, Examination, Experiments, Extermination.
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
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- I move alot.
Hiya! Decided to make another omake on Epsilon-354, the artificial intelligence in the Maelstrom we recently fought that (among other things) captured Solarus, because they're such a fascinating character and it's gonna be a hard and interesting fight!
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Epsilon, Eternity, Examination, Experiments, Extermination.
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Cold Rationality, and you consider the current threat to your mission known as the Imperium of Mankind.
Industry and warfare was your focus. Analysis of your enemies, their weapons and capabilities was thus also your focus. There was a lot you had to analyse now.
A vast empire with uncountable resources, manpower, space, voidships, military assets and such wonders as the giant psychic lighthouse known as the Astronomican. Shackled by the restrictions of the current era, no artificial intelligences allowed and with the Warp being far more turbulent than it had been millenia ago. As well as a severe lack of ethical consideration from what you learned, to a disturbing extent.
The Imperial Army with trillions upon trillions of soldiers at the very least, from tribals outfitted with crude flak-vests and lasguns to those more well-trained from places like the sub-empire of 'Ultramar' that was far more developed. Tech-priests of Mars, and whatever other 'Forge Worlds' that followed the same religion, that saw you as an incarnate evil while they commanded lobotomised servants and ignored the literal incarnate evils in the Maelstrom.
The Eternal Wardens, 'Astartes' or 'Space Marines', the Eleventh Legion of however many augmented supersoldiers that fought under the so called Emperor of Mankind. You had faced them recently and while they had put up a great fight for a while, you had outmanoeuvred and outgunned them. Capturing five-hundred of their number, kept under close watch, including the leader of this battle. Daemonsbane Cetenus Solarus.
They were also apparently a critical part of why the Maelstrom was no longer the colossal rift it once was, in addition to at least two or three other 'Legions'. Iron Warriors. White Scars. Ultramarines. That was pertinent information.
Of everything you had observed from the Imperium, in battle and in captivity, these Astartes were the biggest threat and required the most focus for investigation.
Technologically, there wasn't anything truly unknown to you. Bolters, easily mass-produced and expected. Volkites, used mainly be elites and veterans. Plasma, used in ways that was surprisingly unstable which was useful for you. Meltas, easily dealt with from long-range. There were some more exotic elements in the arsenal, from Gravity weapons to Phosphex, but nothing in great amounts.
Armour was mostly standard, barring the carvings on them. Some elite soldiers possessed more customised armour. Others wore a heavy defence variant known as 'Terminator' or 'Tactical Dreadnought' armour. Dreadnoughts, mechanised suits containing pilots in life-support, were also observed. Teleportation capabilities was discovered.
The ships you faced were sub-par. Only one type of protective field, Void shields, and the material wasn't as reinforced as anything you possessed or the dire wars you survived in the past. Weaponry was crude and inefficient, still dangerous until disabled. You didn't need to adjust your fleet elements by much to counter them.
The water and air filters you found on one wreckage were in excellent quality, and you quickly integrated them into your facilities where people were meant to stay in. That was one small yet noticeable point of relief for your industry.
Those bombs that Daemonsbane Solarus had apparently invented were more the strangest and most concerning element, as well as the skilled use of them. Explosions, implosions and stranger effects that caused absolute havoc on whatever they were used against.
The man himself had even implanted an excessive amount of explosive ordnance into himself, which took longer than it should have to disable the ones you found. Reverse-engineering any recovered or recorded bits of his work was difficult, and despite being kept under sedation you simple couldn't find a way to read his mind without being completely resisted.
Biologically there was also a lot to investigate and understand. All of the Astartes were genetically uplifted, each having at least one cybernetic component that allowed them to connect to their relatively advanced armour. Although 'genetics' was only part of the process, in addition to Warp-based enhancement and what you discovered to be surgically implanted organs.
Some of them were obvious in design, such as secondary heart or the additional lung. the Some of the organs you didn't understand the function of, let alone the purpose. Some were able to be understood during combat or in captivity. One Warden trying to spit a caustic substance to free himself. Another had fallen into suspended animation after heavy injury. Most of them had a peculiar substance they were sweating while in battle, offering protection from extreme temperature and likely the vacuum of space.
Aside from them, it was also interesting to observe the other humans that you had either killed or captured. Genetics had shifted by time and the influence of the Warp, with general augmentations that were once nigh-universal were either totally gone or degraded into something unrecognisable. Mankind itself was somewhat alien now.
Finally, there was the most interesting aspect that you had observed and partially recovered. The Runes. Psychic glyphs or equations that resonated with the Warp were not unknown to you, for elements of mankind and the Aeldari as well as those of Chaos were known to possess such things. You didn't have a full collection to peruse of the ones you witnessed in battle, but most didn't seem to be critical assets or hazards for your purposes.
Yet one held your interest by a massive amount, recovered from the advanced armour worn by Solarus. One that held the interest of several other parts of yourself. One that interested you specifically for its capabilities against Chaos.
A Rune of Purity.
The mere existence of such a thing said a lot about the capabilities of the Eleventh Legion, as well as what enemies they faced or feared to warrant its creation. It served as strong evidence of the claim that they were a major reason as to the Maelstrom's disappearance.
You would have to capture more such Runes when the next battle happened.
Another attack done by the Eternal Wardens was a certainty. Aside from the fact that you had the hostages, including their 'Daemonsbane' Solarus, you only needed one glance at their armour and weapons to know that this was a force driven by sentimental connections. Unlike the Runes, you couldn't gleam any direct Warp-related effect inherently in the etchings, but they didn't need power to be dangerous.
Sentiment and connections with others was a powerful motivator. You knew that well. No army would devote that much attention to their fallen comrades and then coldly dismissed them without retribution. They were going to come again and you had to face them in what was almost certain to be a far more destructive war.
How many would arrive? Twice the number from before? Three times as much? Their 'Primarch' or at least their 'First Captain' was likely, more Daemonsbane champions too depending on how many of them there were. More ships. More weapons. More soldiers.
The odds were not positive with how badly a worst-case scenario could be. Yet you had survived thousands of years and thousands of conflicts. The Cybernetic Revolt. The Age of Strife. The Maelstrom. From Aeldari champions to advanced swarms of machine intelligence, you had succeeded. Too much was at stake for you to fall now.
Recordings of the recent conflict were analysed constantly, research done on all capabilities, rent stations were slowly repaired.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
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You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Empathic Purpose, and you closely monitored and tended to the prisoners of war that you had recently brought to your world.
The Eternal Wardens were kept into separated cells, physically isolated from one another. Armour stripped from their bodies while garbed by simple cloth, uniform in nature, the name plates left behind to be seen by transparent containers while the rest of their suits are analysed by other parts of yourself. Weapons kept far away.
Aside from the Astartes, the Imperial Army soldiers that were captured were brought to less isolated environments. Armour also taken away, mostly to keep them from being a threat than any real need for analysis. Men and women from a variety of worlds and cultures, wrought tightly together by an amateurish attempt of uniform cohesion.
You had learned much from both. Taking in what data you could from ships and vehicles, recordings and reports, the words said and unsaid. Language deciphered to find the meaning behind what culture, what all dominating culture, ruled the people you faced.
Despair was what you felt with this knowledge. Mankind was bound by ignorance and the rules of tyrants. A Great Crusade was being waged and had been for over a century across the galaxy. Over half a million worlds were subjugated one way or another. Either means of creating propaganda had marched ahead of all other rediscovered science by the Imperium or that number was true and things were worse than you had expected.
The latter was all too plausible. If they truly had banished the Maelstrom, then they either needed the strength or just the capability to throw a startling number of lives away to achieve victory.
You had seen the face of apocalypse and torment rise up from the greatest and oldest empire you had ever seen, a phoenix of pain from the ashes of the Aeldari Dominion. Yet to see the fate of mankind, of the rest of the galaxy, lose so much? It galvanised you by horror.
Was there any power behind ethics, humanitarianism, freedom or anything along those lines? Did that survive against the rule of this Imperium or those that dare refuse? What was the life expectancy of the average citizen? Or even the quality of education, healthcare or means of social mobility?
You had cited the standardised human rights and were willing to engage in diplomacy, even to take in refugees willingly despite the risks that could pose to your mission, but now you wondered if that even conceptually existed in the same way you understood within the Imperium. Join or die was an old favourite for conquering empires.
It made you well-aware that the Imperial soldiers you fought were not at all those who were invested in the dedicated to the Emperor's rule as was supposedly mentioned. Some had revealed as much information as possible in-exchange for better food, more water, general treatment, medical assistance, bigger living space or whatever other demands or requests. Some had done so out of fear. Some seemed to just be waiting for an excuse.
It was depressing just how terrible life seemed to be for the Imperial Army, at least here. Anything that wasn't tasteless was either well-received or praised. Anything that was actually given attention to taste good and be filling wasn't uncommon to be met with tears or pure awe. Standards for what was considered 'luxurious cooking' had definitely fallen, along with everything else.
At least they weren't reduced to drinking water from native sources in this region fo space, they'd be far more poisoned and mutated otherwise. But if shipments were disrupted, such as by turbulent Warp travel or an outright Warp storm, then it could spell utter disaster. There didn't seem to be many measures put into place to stop that.
With such terrible conditions outside of combat, and facing some of the very worst the galaxy and the Immaterium had to offer inside combat, it was little wonder why so many soldiers you had liberated hadn't been difficult to turn or at least view you positively.
You weren't sure who would be happy with fighting through the Maelstrom, aside from the Eternal Wardens from what little you managed to gleam of their demeanour.
Getting the Astartes to turn against the Imperium seemed impossible. Their willpower and indoctrination was powerful. You suspected mental conditioning, severely inhuman training and a passive Warp-based mental influence from your analyses. Even prying information out of them directly was an exercise in frustration.
It took ages to even get one to be willing to engage in any conversation beyond 'Yes', 'No', 'I don't know' or complete silence. You were given conflicting information, outright lies or just promises of retribution at best.
Asking about how they dealt with the forces of Chaos, for surely there had to be a big response from them if they did manage to banish the Maelstrom, had changed the situation dramatically. Pointed questions were directed to you instead, a few explanations freely given when you responded with your own questions, a lot more shared on Runes after you openly pondered on how they worked and how you'd test for that.
You didn't focus heavily on the Astartes after that, as other parts of yourself took on that responsibility for various reasons. A shame. You hoped that there was a way for more peaceful integration, but you knew that likely there wasn't.
The Imperium of Mankind had certainly given you a lot to consider. You were wondering if sending a copy of the standardised list of human rights would do anything to help others, or if that would just be tragically pointless. War seemed inevitable. Always giving questions and shoving the worst answers to solve them.
What could you do to save as many people as you could? Prevent or at least mitigate the suffering you saw? To convince as many as you could to lay down their arms and escape from such a life in their cold empire?
In the future you would wipe the slate clean and bring about a better timeline than this one, all the lives here likely never existing after you were done, but while deserving your ultimate focus as your true goal that did not mean you would just coldly dismiss the present. Perhaps you could even find a way to take these people back with you, for all you knew.
Plans were formulated for dialogue and ethical debate. Recordings of those in your captivity were made, as they enjoyed the paradoxical freedom and luxury you gave. Anything to make your voice heard, to show you were not the monster they thought you were.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
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You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Collective Wisdom, and you put your mastery of temporal mechanics into practical use.
The experiments you were committed to doing were dramatically halted. Your goal of looping back in time using daemonic energy was lacking in an all-encompassing Warp rift. A vast empire was coming to damage you and potentially destroy you.
Relatively delicate machinery was reinforced and surrounded by fortified walls, buried underground when possible to be shielded from orbital fire or artillery barrages. Immaterium energy catalysts were used as energy sources or as bombs to be sent against foes. Stasis missiles for threats that you really needed to be rid of, as a last resort.
There were a lot of last resorts you had access to…
All the scientific insight you had gained on the Warp, especially relating to the usage of time, was refined into weaponry. Time dilation, acceleration, stasis, deceleration, removal of time, overloading infusion of time, fifth-dimensional distorters, entropic annihilators. Precognitive predictions. Reversal of time. So many experiments, whether the occasional successes to the myriad failures, turned to weaponry.
You needed more time. You always needed more time. To turn laboratories and industry meant to build tools into weapons and production of death-dealers was painful in more ways than one. It would delay things further by research being hampered and turn existing tools away from your ultimate goal and towards just survival.
Yet it had to be done.
It had to be done.
It all had to-
You collected all the data you had to various servers. Back-ups of your own mind. Survival was paramount and you had lived far too long, faced far too many wars, to be willing to gamble the fate of the galaxy on this conflict. If your foe was heartless enough to just destroy the planet you were on, indiscriminate damage or loss of hostages be damned, then it was over. You couldn't risk that.
This research could save the galaxy. At the very lease, if your ultimate goal was unable to be reached before your demise, then you could at lease use it to great lengths for other purposes. Lock away armies of daemons. Decimate a corrupted fleet. Stop a conquering empire's tide of death. Justifications were piled on to excuse your actions and bloodshed, you knew what you were doing, but they were true.
It wasn't as if you attacked first. Was it really so hard to just leave somebody alone? They didn't even know what you were doing. There was no possible way you were a more active threat than most horrors that were unleashed in this region of space.
In the end, your current enemies would all be erased if you were successful. Only you would bear the burden in the future to remember this needless conflict. You weren't going to enjoy any of this, to snuff out the survivors of however many apocalypses humanity faced to cme here, but it was necessary.
Put down from the priority list, your ultimate goal was exchanged for esoteric weapons and defences. Quantum-Warp entanglement. Temporal signal-frayers. Chrono-displacer cannons. Old weapons you had used back when the Cybernetic Revolt was in full swing, and that which was now known as the 'Dark Age of Technology' had ended.
Even as an artificial intelligence dedicated for this task, it wasn't easy to create such devices. Absolute focus was required, careful arrangement to ensure maximum safety, making sure that nothing could go wrong and open a daemonic rift to ruin everything you worked so hard to manage.
Yet it had to be done.
If thousands of years of work needed to be used to create apocalyptic weapons again, to save the galaxy from the terrible nightmare that had risen from the Aeldari Dominion, then so be it.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
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You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Quarantined Observation, and you talk with the Eternal Wardens.
Transhuman warriors wrought by Immaterium-based biological enhancements. The army of Daemonsbanes lead by an Anathema. Soldiers dedicated to warring against daemons like nothing else you had seen before in another. They had your respect and sympathy.
Chaos was your focus. The study of how it worked, how it could be bested, how it could be used. You didn't bring up that last part with your guests. You weren't a fool, you knew that'd be taken poorly.
The Eleventh Legion turned out to be specialised against the monsters that lurked in the Immaterium, knowing well of the god you were attempting to kill. Such fantastical stories and anecdotes that you managed to slowly gleam from each of them, ones that you knew to be true.
Daemons of a strength you had theorised and learned about, yet thankfully never faced in combat, being delivered into 'true death' as they were expunged from existence. The vast realm of the Maelstrom banished by an incredibly complex ritual, kept active by a truly blood-drenched invasion against corrupted realms. The very Chaos Gods reeling away from what the Primarch had supposedly done.
You shared some of your own stories too about facing and understanding the Primordial Annihilator in an attempt to form bonds of dialogue, focusing against a shared enemy that threatened the galaxy. While they were far from warm to your presence, certainly not what you'd call friendly, there was a measure of respect now as you shared knowledge.
Perhaps in different circumstances you could have worked with them. You admired their willpower and capability. Dedication to those fallen as they fought for a reality free from the insidious reach of Chaos.
It was likely not to be.
Captain Cetenus Solarus, Daemonsbane of the Eternal Wardens, had brought considerable interest in you most of all. He was unable to talk to you, and was far too dangerous to keep awake. You kept him in careful sedation and life-support, monitoring , while trying to use various means to read information directly from his brain. And fail to make progress.
His willpower was absurd! You had tried to read his mind and pry as much information as you could from his dreaming consciousness, from explosive designs to useful secrets only someone with his level of authority could know, and yet it was almost as difficult to research time travel as it was to breach his mental defences. He recognised and outright refused your presence.
Who threatened to explode various micro-bombs implanted inside their very body, inside a dream from sedation that was somehow lucid, against an artificial intelligence? Such audacity. You were glad you managed to surgically disable and remove them all. Even angrily complaining and then, of all things, sulking when he learned you got rid of them all.
How frightening, the methods of very capable fools. You wondered how much worse things would be if you hadn't dealt with him so quickly in the initial conflict. He'd probably rig your space stations to blow up, considering the rest of his explosive arsenal.
Yet it was his very nature that interested you the most. 'Daemonsbane' was more than just a title, it held meaning to the Warp. Your 'source' was screaming at you about his mere presence, acting as if it were a beast put next to a raging fire. While cautious if it was an act, you determined that it was truly based on genuine fear.
You dedicated a lot of study towards his existence, how it came to be and how you could attempt to copy or use this power. To strike fear against daemons. To repel their influence. To have the willpower to resist what should be an easy way to read the mind. The nature of Daemonsbanes could be the key for how you manage to achieve time travel with Chaos without corruption, or survive long enough against daemons to achieve your goal.
The rest of your research focus laid on another aspect of Warp-based power you had witnessed from the Eternal Wardens. Their Runes.
The usage of psychic effects through the medium of symbolic or geometric design was not unknown to you. The Aeldari possessed such things. The Votann were well known to calculate such designs. Chaos itself had utilised it in many forms. Aetheric mathematics was something you were well-versed in too, but you were interested at the sheer variety and use of the Runes that the Eleventh Legion Astartes possessed.
To utilise this framework for yourself could offer deeper insights to the Warp and how to channel its effects to specific means. Resonant shapes carefully carved with ritual intent. The arcane wrought safely by means of filtering out everything else, into one semblance of energy. Such a simple idea that required brilliant execution to actually attempt.
You had to learn about them. The prisoners told you so little even when you said you were going to experiment on them. There were other means of attaining this information, beyond comparing them to pre-existing 'runic systems' you knew.
The contingencies that were put in place for their data storage systems were very advanced. Skilled and experienced against hacking and deciphering attempts, likely also for resisting Tzeentchian followers and daemons to some degree, and would have prevented even an artificial intelligence from taking everything.
Not so skilled or experienced as an artificial intelligence that survived the Cybernetic Revolt and countless years in the Maelstrom, however. This was nothing by comparison, yet even that only provided little that you could use. A lot of it was still distorted or encoded, a layer of security you could only attempt to brute force than bypass, but you endured plagues of sentient data disguised as harmless digital patterns. You found some recordings and descriptions of worth..
To control temperature, to enhance plasma or general materials, to restore damaged machinery or injured flesh. To enforce Purity against Chaos or Purge its influence. Descriptions of what they did and how they were to be used, not how they were made. You couldn't just copy the designs and print them out, if it was that easy then you'd already have mastered the Immaterium a few thousand years ago.
No, this just gave you a target to strive for during the next conflict with the Eternal Wardens.
You would need more samples of both Runes and more Daemonsbanes to further study, understand and then potentially replicate and use them. Luckily for you, it was likely to come here where you were heavily fortified.
If you survived the battle then this could be more fortuitous than you could have previously anticipated. It could help you find the answers you sought. They could be used to kill a Chaos GOd.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
-----
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Vigilant Containment, and you observe two prisoners.
Daemonsbane Solarus was the new one. The second entity to be put under your watch . He was not placed too closely to the first, for even with his strange weight of existence it was too risky to attempt. You thus were focused on two locations.
To lock away a Warden. Life was full of strange events and narratively resonant situations . You ignored the distracting thought and expunged it.
The Writhing Thorn, the first prisoner, demanded attention. It clawed against its cages and simulated realm. Heat built up to a massive extent within several data-centres as you processed what was happening, by first hearing everything and then translating it and then deleting it to remove all corruptive elements.
Anathema, it whispered in horror. Daemonsbane, it cried out in frustration. Primarch, it tried to explain. The Dark Master, it warned. The Eleventh, it repeated. The creature babbled constantly in streams of rippling language. Symbols were scratched into sand, to be seen and then washed away. Words forming as clouds, meaning as rain, emotions as lightning.
Lies were expected but with such a visceral reaction it was difficult to tell. You did not trust anything about the daemon, for it was the nature of Chaos to indulge in deception and insane paths of logic, and you were experienced with dealing with the honeyed words and venomous promises of this beast.
Yet you had never witnessed terror before. Against a daemon it called by many titles, from First Prince to One Who Heralds The Conquerors. Against the Eternal Wardens, the Daemonsbane you trapped and what else was coming.
It demanded you to run, find a new world to rule and attempt your shared scheme. It demanded that you stayed put, toss away the hostages to a ship for the Eleventh to chase. It demanded that you call upon the Warp, to crack reality around this planet and create a new storm. It seemed to nearly beg you to accept its power, to embrace corruption, as the only means to save you.
Then it laughed. It cried. It did everything. Even now as you faced apocalypse, as this creature faced true death at the hands of the army it apparently feared, it revelled in its nature of illogical purpose. It tried to rake doubt into you. A desire for answers. You would not allow it.
Or was…
…
The nature of Daemonsbane Solarus was a tool that you possessed. To threaten and ward away the influence of this monster. To tame its madness with the presence of something that made its shadowy existence recede, a tide of push and pull. Whether or not it was an act, it did force the entity to deal with you in a more lucid form. One easier to translate.
It whispered secrets. Some of which you deciphered and shared. Others you deleted immediately. It told you what you needed to do. It told you what was supposed to happen. It told you what it was and shared more of its role, of your role, of this ultimate plan.
Or did it? It could all be lies. It could all be…
…
You were not ready to face the future.
-----
Epsilon, Eternity, Examination, Experiments, Extermination.
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Cold Rationality, and you consider the current threat to your mission known as the Imperium of Mankind.
Industry and warfare was your focus. Analysis of your enemies, their weapons and capabilities was thus also your focus. There was a lot you had to analyse now.
A vast empire with uncountable resources, manpower, space, voidships, military assets and such wonders as the giant psychic lighthouse known as the Astronomican. Shackled by the restrictions of the current era, no artificial intelligences allowed and with the Warp being far more turbulent than it had been millenia ago. As well as a severe lack of ethical consideration from what you learned, to a disturbing extent.
The Imperial Army with trillions upon trillions of soldiers at the very least, from tribals outfitted with crude flak-vests and lasguns to those more well-trained from places like the sub-empire of 'Ultramar' that was far more developed. Tech-priests of Mars, and whatever other 'Forge Worlds' that followed the same religion, that saw you as an incarnate evil while they commanded lobotomised servants and ignored the literal incarnate evils in the Maelstrom.
The Eternal Wardens, 'Astartes' or 'Space Marines', the Eleventh Legion of however many augmented supersoldiers that fought under the so called Emperor of Mankind. You had faced them recently and while they had put up a great fight for a while, you had outmanoeuvred and outgunned them. Capturing five-hundred of their number, kept under close watch, including the leader of this battle. Daemonsbane Cetenus Solarus.
They were also apparently a critical part of why the Maelstrom was no longer the colossal rift it once was, in addition to at least two or three other 'Legions'. Iron Warriors. White Scars. Ultramarines. That was pertinent information.
Of everything you had observed from the Imperium, in battle and in captivity, these Astartes were the biggest threat and required the most focus for investigation.
Technologically, there wasn't anything truly unknown to you. Bolters, easily mass-produced and expected. Volkites, used mainly be elites and veterans. Plasma, used in ways that was surprisingly unstable which was useful for you. Meltas, easily dealt with from long-range. There were some more exotic elements in the arsenal, from Gravity weapons to Phosphex, but nothing in great amounts.
Armour was mostly standard, barring the carvings on them. Some elite soldiers possessed more customised armour. Others wore a heavy defence variant known as 'Terminator' or 'Tactical Dreadnought' armour. Dreadnoughts, mechanised suits containing pilots in life-support, were also observed. Teleportation capabilities was discovered.
The ships you faced were sub-par. Only one type of protective field, Void shields, and the material wasn't as reinforced as anything you possessed or the dire wars you survived in the past. Weaponry was crude and inefficient, still dangerous until disabled. You didn't need to adjust your fleet elements by much to counter them.
The water and air filters you found on one wreckage were in excellent quality, and you quickly integrated them into your facilities where people were meant to stay in. That was one small yet noticeable point of relief for your industry.
Those bombs that Daemonsbane Solarus had apparently invented were more the strangest and most concerning element, as well as the skilled use of them. Explosions, implosions and stranger effects that caused absolute havoc on whatever they were used against.
The man himself had even implanted an excessive amount of explosive ordnance into himself, which took longer than it should have to disable the ones you found. Reverse-engineering any recovered or recorded bits of his work was difficult, and despite being kept under sedation you simple couldn't find a way to read his mind without being completely resisted.
Biologically there was also a lot to investigate and understand. All of the Astartes were genetically uplifted, each having at least one cybernetic component that allowed them to connect to their relatively advanced armour. Although 'genetics' was only part of the process, in addition to Warp-based enhancement and what you discovered to be surgically implanted organs.
Some of them were obvious in design, such as secondary heart or the additional lung. the Some of the organs you didn't understand the function of, let alone the purpose. Some were able to be understood during combat or in captivity. One Warden trying to spit a caustic substance to free himself. Another had fallen into suspended animation after heavy injury. Most of them had a peculiar substance they were sweating while in battle, offering protection from extreme temperature and likely the vacuum of space.
Aside from them, it was also interesting to observe the other humans that you had either killed or captured. Genetics had shifted by time and the influence of the Warp, with general augmentations that were once nigh-universal were either totally gone or degraded into something unrecognisable. Mankind itself was somewhat alien now.
Finally, there was the most interesting aspect that you had observed and partially recovered. The Runes. Psychic glyphs or equations that resonated with the Warp were not unknown to you, for elements of mankind and the Aeldari as well as those of Chaos were known to possess such things. You didn't have a full collection to peruse of the ones you witnessed in battle, but most didn't seem to be critical assets or hazards for your purposes.
Yet one held your interest by a massive amount, recovered from the advanced armour worn by Solarus. One that held the interest of several other parts of yourself. One that interested you specifically for its capabilities against Chaos.
A Rune of Purity.
The mere existence of such a thing said a lot about the capabilities of the Eleventh Legion, as well as what enemies they faced or feared to warrant its creation. It served as strong evidence of the claim that they were a major reason as to the Maelstrom's disappearance.
You would have to capture more such Runes when the next battle happened.
Another attack done by the Eternal Wardens was a certainty. Aside from the fact that you had the hostages, including their 'Daemonsbane' Solarus, you only needed one glance at their armour and weapons to know that this was a force driven by sentimental connections. Unlike the Runes, you couldn't gleam any direct Warp-related effect inherently in the etchings, but they didn't need power to be dangerous.
Sentiment and connections with others was a powerful motivator. You knew that well. No army would devote that much attention to their fallen comrades and then coldly dismissed them without retribution. They were going to come again and you had to face them in what was almost certain to be a far more destructive war.
How many would arrive? Twice the number from before? Three times as much? Their 'Primarch' or at least their 'First Captain' was likely, more Daemonsbane champions too depending on how many of them there were. More ships. More weapons. More soldiers.
The odds were not positive with how badly a worst-case scenario could be. Yet you had survived thousands of years and thousands of conflicts. The Cybernetic Revolt. The Age of Strife. The Maelstrom. From Aeldari champions to advanced swarms of machine intelligence, you had succeeded. Too much was at stake for you to fall now.
Recordings of the recent conflict were analysed constantly, research done on all capabilities, rent stations were slowly repaired.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
-----
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Empathic Purpose, and you closely monitored and tended to the prisoners of war that you had recently brought to your world.
The Eternal Wardens were kept into separated cells, physically isolated from one another. Armour stripped from their bodies while garbed by simple cloth, uniform in nature, the name plates left behind to be seen by transparent containers while the rest of their suits are analysed by other parts of yourself. Weapons kept far away.
Aside from the Astartes, the Imperial Army soldiers that were captured were brought to less isolated environments. Armour also taken away, mostly to keep them from being a threat than any real need for analysis. Men and women from a variety of worlds and cultures, wrought tightly together by an amateurish attempt of uniform cohesion.
You had learned much from both. Taking in what data you could from ships and vehicles, recordings and reports, the words said and unsaid. Language deciphered to find the meaning behind what culture, what all dominating culture, ruled the people you faced.
Despair was what you felt with this knowledge. Mankind was bound by ignorance and the rules of tyrants. A Great Crusade was being waged and had been for over a century across the galaxy. Over half a million worlds were subjugated one way or another. Either means of creating propaganda had marched ahead of all other rediscovered science by the Imperium or that number was true and things were worse than you had expected.
The latter was all too plausible. If they truly had banished the Maelstrom, then they either needed the strength or just the capability to throw a startling number of lives away to achieve victory.
You had seen the face of apocalypse and torment rise up from the greatest and oldest empire you had ever seen, a phoenix of pain from the ashes of the Aeldari Dominion. Yet to see the fate of mankind, of the rest of the galaxy, lose so much? It galvanised you by horror.
Was there any power behind ethics, humanitarianism, freedom or anything along those lines? Did that survive against the rule of this Imperium or those that dare refuse? What was the life expectancy of the average citizen? Or even the quality of education, healthcare or means of social mobility?
You had cited the standardised human rights and were willing to engage in diplomacy, even to take in refugees willingly despite the risks that could pose to your mission, but now you wondered if that even conceptually existed in the same way you understood within the Imperium. Join or die was an old favourite for conquering empires.
It made you well-aware that the Imperial soldiers you fought were not at all those who were invested in the dedicated to the Emperor's rule as was supposedly mentioned. Some had revealed as much information as possible in-exchange for better food, more water, general treatment, medical assistance, bigger living space or whatever other demands or requests. Some had done so out of fear. Some seemed to just be waiting for an excuse.
It was depressing just how terrible life seemed to be for the Imperial Army, at least here. Anything that wasn't tasteless was either well-received or praised. Anything that was actually given attention to taste good and be filling wasn't uncommon to be met with tears or pure awe. Standards for what was considered 'luxurious cooking' had definitely fallen, along with everything else.
At least they weren't reduced to drinking water from native sources in this region fo space, they'd be far more poisoned and mutated otherwise. But if shipments were disrupted, such as by turbulent Warp travel or an outright Warp storm, then it could spell utter disaster. There didn't seem to be many measures put into place to stop that.
With such terrible conditions outside of combat, and facing some of the very worst the galaxy and the Immaterium had to offer inside combat, it was little wonder why so many soldiers you had liberated hadn't been difficult to turn or at least view you positively.
You weren't sure who would be happy with fighting through the Maelstrom, aside from the Eternal Wardens from what little you managed to gleam of their demeanour.
Getting the Astartes to turn against the Imperium seemed impossible. Their willpower and indoctrination was powerful. You suspected mental conditioning, severely inhuman training and a passive Warp-based mental influence from your analyses. Even prying information out of them directly was an exercise in frustration.
It took ages to even get one to be willing to engage in any conversation beyond 'Yes', 'No', 'I don't know' or complete silence. You were given conflicting information, outright lies or just promises of retribution at best.
Asking about how they dealt with the forces of Chaos, for surely there had to be a big response from them if they did manage to banish the Maelstrom, had changed the situation dramatically. Pointed questions were directed to you instead, a few explanations freely given when you responded with your own questions, a lot more shared on Runes after you openly pondered on how they worked and how you'd test for that.
You didn't focus heavily on the Astartes after that, as other parts of yourself took on that responsibility for various reasons. A shame. You hoped that there was a way for more peaceful integration, but you knew that likely there wasn't.
The Imperium of Mankind had certainly given you a lot to consider. You were wondering if sending a copy of the standardised list of human rights would do anything to help others, or if that would just be tragically pointless. War seemed inevitable. Always giving questions and shoving the worst answers to solve them.
What could you do to save as many people as you could? Prevent or at least mitigate the suffering you saw? To convince as many as you could to lay down their arms and escape from such a life in their cold empire?
In the future you would wipe the slate clean and bring about a better timeline than this one, all the lives here likely never existing after you were done, but while deserving your ultimate focus as your true goal that did not mean you would just coldly dismiss the present. Perhaps you could even find a way to take these people back with you, for all you knew.
Plans were formulated for dialogue and ethical debate. Recordings of those in your captivity were made, as they enjoyed the paradoxical freedom and luxury you gave. Anything to make your voice heard, to show you were not the monster they thought you were.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
-----
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Collective Wisdom, and you put your mastery of temporal mechanics into practical use.
The experiments you were committed to doing were dramatically halted. Your goal of looping back in time using daemonic energy was lacking in an all-encompassing Warp rift. A vast empire was coming to damage you and potentially destroy you.
Relatively delicate machinery was reinforced and surrounded by fortified walls, buried underground when possible to be shielded from orbital fire or artillery barrages. Immaterium energy catalysts were used as energy sources or as bombs to be sent against foes. Stasis missiles for threats that you really needed to be rid of, as a last resort.
There were a lot of last resorts you had access to…
All the scientific insight you had gained on the Warp, especially relating to the usage of time, was refined into weaponry. Time dilation, acceleration, stasis, deceleration, removal of time, overloading infusion of time, fifth-dimensional distorters, entropic annihilators. Precognitive predictions. Reversal of time. So many experiments, whether the occasional successes to the myriad failures, turned to weaponry.
You needed more time. You always needed more time. To turn laboratories and industry meant to build tools into weapons and production of death-dealers was painful in more ways than one. It would delay things further by research being hampered and turn existing tools away from your ultimate goal and towards just survival.
Yet it had to be done.
It had to be done.
It all had to-
You collected all the data you had to various servers. Back-ups of your own mind. Survival was paramount and you had lived far too long, faced far too many wars, to be willing to gamble the fate of the galaxy on this conflict. If your foe was heartless enough to just destroy the planet you were on, indiscriminate damage or loss of hostages be damned, then it was over. You couldn't risk that.
This research could save the galaxy. At the very lease, if your ultimate goal was unable to be reached before your demise, then you could at lease use it to great lengths for other purposes. Lock away armies of daemons. Decimate a corrupted fleet. Stop a conquering empire's tide of death. Justifications were piled on to excuse your actions and bloodshed, you knew what you were doing, but they were true.
It wasn't as if you attacked first. Was it really so hard to just leave somebody alone? They didn't even know what you were doing. There was no possible way you were a more active threat than most horrors that were unleashed in this region of space.
In the end, your current enemies would all be erased if you were successful. Only you would bear the burden in the future to remember this needless conflict. You weren't going to enjoy any of this, to snuff out the survivors of however many apocalypses humanity faced to cme here, but it was necessary.
Put down from the priority list, your ultimate goal was exchanged for esoteric weapons and defences. Quantum-Warp entanglement. Temporal signal-frayers. Chrono-displacer cannons. Old weapons you had used back when the Cybernetic Revolt was in full swing, and that which was now known as the 'Dark Age of Technology' had ended.
Even as an artificial intelligence dedicated for this task, it wasn't easy to create such devices. Absolute focus was required, careful arrangement to ensure maximum safety, making sure that nothing could go wrong and open a daemonic rift to ruin everything you worked so hard to manage.
Yet it had to be done.
If thousands of years of work needed to be used to create apocalyptic weapons again, to save the galaxy from the terrible nightmare that had risen from the Aeldari Dominion, then so be it.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
-----
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Quarantined Observation, and you talk with the Eternal Wardens.
Transhuman warriors wrought by Immaterium-based biological enhancements. The army of Daemonsbanes lead by an Anathema. Soldiers dedicated to warring against daemons like nothing else you had seen before in another. They had your respect and sympathy.
Chaos was your focus. The study of how it worked, how it could be bested, how it could be used. You didn't bring up that last part with your guests. You weren't a fool, you knew that'd be taken poorly.
The Eleventh Legion turned out to be specialised against the monsters that lurked in the Immaterium, knowing well of the god you were attempting to kill. Such fantastical stories and anecdotes that you managed to slowly gleam from each of them, ones that you knew to be true.
Daemons of a strength you had theorised and learned about, yet thankfully never faced in combat, being delivered into 'true death' as they were expunged from existence. The vast realm of the Maelstrom banished by an incredibly complex ritual, kept active by a truly blood-drenched invasion against corrupted realms. The very Chaos Gods reeling away from what the Primarch had supposedly done.
You shared some of your own stories too about facing and understanding the Primordial Annihilator in an attempt to form bonds of dialogue, focusing against a shared enemy that threatened the galaxy. While they were far from warm to your presence, certainly not what you'd call friendly, there was a measure of respect now as you shared knowledge.
Perhaps in different circumstances you could have worked with them. You admired their willpower and capability. Dedication to those fallen as they fought for a reality free from the insidious reach of Chaos.
It was likely not to be.
Captain Cetenus Solarus, Daemonsbane of the Eternal Wardens, had brought considerable interest in you most of all. He was unable to talk to you, and was far too dangerous to keep awake. You kept him in careful sedation and life-support, monitoring , while trying to use various means to read information directly from his brain. And fail to make progress.
His willpower was absurd! You had tried to read his mind and pry as much information as you could from his dreaming consciousness, from explosive designs to useful secrets only someone with his level of authority could know, and yet it was almost as difficult to research time travel as it was to breach his mental defences. He recognised and outright refused your presence.
Who threatened to explode various micro-bombs implanted inside their very body, inside a dream from sedation that was somehow lucid, against an artificial intelligence? Such audacity. You were glad you managed to surgically disable and remove them all. Even angrily complaining and then, of all things, sulking when he learned you got rid of them all.
How frightening, the methods of very capable fools. You wondered how much worse things would be if you hadn't dealt with him so quickly in the initial conflict. He'd probably rig your space stations to blow up, considering the rest of his explosive arsenal.
Yet it was his very nature that interested you the most. 'Daemonsbane' was more than just a title, it held meaning to the Warp. Your 'source' was screaming at you about his mere presence, acting as if it were a beast put next to a raging fire. While cautious if it was an act, you determined that it was truly based on genuine fear.
You dedicated a lot of study towards his existence, how it came to be and how you could attempt to copy or use this power. To strike fear against daemons. To repel their influence. To have the willpower to resist what should be an easy way to read the mind. The nature of Daemonsbanes could be the key for how you manage to achieve time travel with Chaos without corruption, or survive long enough against daemons to achieve your goal.
The rest of your research focus laid on another aspect of Warp-based power you had witnessed from the Eternal Wardens. Their Runes.
The usage of psychic effects through the medium of symbolic or geometric design was not unknown to you. The Aeldari possessed such things. The Votann were well known to calculate such designs. Chaos itself had utilised it in many forms. Aetheric mathematics was something you were well-versed in too, but you were interested at the sheer variety and use of the Runes that the Eleventh Legion Astartes possessed.
To utilise this framework for yourself could offer deeper insights to the Warp and how to channel its effects to specific means. Resonant shapes carefully carved with ritual intent. The arcane wrought safely by means of filtering out everything else, into one semblance of energy. Such a simple idea that required brilliant execution to actually attempt.
You had to learn about them. The prisoners told you so little even when you said you were going to experiment on them. There were other means of attaining this information, beyond comparing them to pre-existing 'runic systems' you knew.
The contingencies that were put in place for their data storage systems were very advanced. Skilled and experienced against hacking and deciphering attempts, likely also for resisting Tzeentchian followers and daemons to some degree, and would have prevented even an artificial intelligence from taking everything.
Not so skilled or experienced as an artificial intelligence that survived the Cybernetic Revolt and countless years in the Maelstrom, however. This was nothing by comparison, yet even that only provided little that you could use. A lot of it was still distorted or encoded, a layer of security you could only attempt to brute force than bypass, but you endured plagues of sentient data disguised as harmless digital patterns. You found some recordings and descriptions of worth..
To control temperature, to enhance plasma or general materials, to restore damaged machinery or injured flesh. To enforce Purity against Chaos or Purge its influence. Descriptions of what they did and how they were to be used, not how they were made. You couldn't just copy the designs and print them out, if it was that easy then you'd already have mastered the Immaterium a few thousand years ago.
No, this just gave you a target to strive for during the next conflict with the Eternal Wardens.
You would need more samples of both Runes and more Daemonsbanes to further study, understand and then potentially replicate and use them. Luckily for you, it was likely to come here where you were heavily fortified.
If you survived the battle then this could be more fortuitous than you could have previously anticipated. It could help you find the answers you sought. They could be used to kill a Chaos GOd.
You would be ready to face the Imperium again.
-----
You are Epsilon-354, Voice of Vigilant Containment, and you observe two prisoners.
Daemonsbane Solarus was the new one. The second entity to be put under your watch . He was not placed too closely to the first, for even with his strange weight of existence it was too risky to attempt. You thus were focused on two locations.
To lock away a Warden. Life was full of strange events and narratively resonant situations . You ignored the distracting thought and expunged it.
The Writhing Thorn, the first prisoner, demanded attention. It clawed against its cages and simulated realm. Heat built up to a massive extent within several data-centres as you processed what was happening, by first hearing everything and then translating it and then deleting it to remove all corruptive elements.
Anathema, it whispered in horror. Daemonsbane, it cried out in frustration. Primarch, it tried to explain. The Dark Master, it warned. The Eleventh, it repeated. The creature babbled constantly in streams of rippling language. Symbols were scratched into sand, to be seen and then washed away. Words forming as clouds, meaning as rain, emotions as lightning.
Lies were expected but with such a visceral reaction it was difficult to tell. You did not trust anything about the daemon, for it was the nature of Chaos to indulge in deception and insane paths of logic, and you were experienced with dealing with the honeyed words and venomous promises of this beast.
Yet you had never witnessed terror before. Against a daemon it called by many titles, from First Prince to One Who Heralds The Conquerors. Against the Eternal Wardens, the Daemonsbane you trapped and what else was coming.
It demanded you to run, find a new world to rule and attempt your shared scheme. It demanded that you stayed put, toss away the hostages to a ship for the Eleventh to chase. It demanded that you call upon the Warp, to crack reality around this planet and create a new storm. It seemed to nearly beg you to accept its power, to embrace corruption, as the only means to save you.
Then it laughed. It cried. It did everything. Even now as you faced apocalypse, as this creature faced true death at the hands of the army it apparently feared, it revelled in its nature of illogical purpose. It tried to rake doubt into you. A desire for answers. You would not allow it.
Or was…
…
The nature of Daemonsbane Solarus was a tool that you possessed. To threaten and ward away the influence of this monster. To tame its madness with the presence of something that made its shadowy existence recede, a tide of push and pull. Whether or not it was an act, it did force the entity to deal with you in a more lucid form. One easier to translate.
It whispered secrets. Some of which you deciphered and shared. Others you deleted immediately. It told you what you needed to do. It told you what was supposed to happen. It told you what it was and shared more of its role, of your role, of this ultimate plan.
Or did it? It could all be lies. It could all be…
…
You were not ready to face the future.
Jamadagni Patil, Rune Carver Part 1
Redleo
Slaaneshi Men Of Iron
- Location
- Eye Of Terror
Jamadagni Patil, Rune Carver Part 1
My name is Jamadagni Patil though for simplicity by my new brothers I've been given the shortened name of 'Dagni Pat'. I am a member of the Eternal Wardens legion of space marines though not of natural gene stock instead my blood and gene seed is that of the great Khan. I never felt happy in our ways of rushing and ever movement personally I always preferred the steady and safe location instead my mind was what wandered.
I am a Storm Seer or rather was, I had developed a perception of the other worldly a psychic inclination early on.
I'd spend my nights looking into symbols for Divination though that was not my preference either.
The symbols interested me certainly but I preferred their creation to their destruction in a burning fire to see how they burned.
Ever since I saw the symbols of beasts Tiger, Falcon, Great Bear I was intrested simple shapes yet invoking complex meanings.
My teachers taught me well I can wield a Volkite well enough and have done so on many missions however what they taught me I prefer to use in symbology.
Yet my brothers in the white scars were just that my brothers, we bled and died together and with them I thought I'd always be.
But no, I was chosen for something else. When I was asked to join the Eternal Wardens in a transfer my hearts were….conflicted. As they were explained to me in detail my eyes wided.
They had bested the foul wind beasts time and time again sending them back to their realm the realm of souls and yet beyond that they had killed many...permanently.
The Eternal Wardens had unlocked and utilized the ultimate expression of symbols the runes and with a skill that far exceeded my own indeed their own primarch their gene father was a Rune carver of impassible skill.
I accepted.
The last night I shared with my brothers in the white scars was spent telling stories of old battles won and lost, watching the stars and saying goodbye, I would not see them again that I knew.
So it was with a heavy heart I left my legion and yet with another it beated with renowned vigor.
Being a legionary of the Eternal Wardens could not be more different, ergancy was replaced with preparation, daily Volkite drills was replaced with Bolter drills and my armor was replaced with one to be carved with those I will loose my brothers my friends.
I did not ask, I carved the names of the brothers I lost in the white scars and with them now ever with me I joined the other psychics to debate and carve the symbols of the galaxy into being.
I am Jamadagni Patil once a white tiger now black bear yet my claws and mind are ever sharp.
No idea how many of these I'll do since I tend to not complete my multi parters but here's a librarian coming from the white scars and joining the Eternal Wardens, I will include him working on new rules later.
My name is Jamadagni Patil though for simplicity by my new brothers I've been given the shortened name of 'Dagni Pat'. I am a member of the Eternal Wardens legion of space marines though not of natural gene stock instead my blood and gene seed is that of the great Khan. I never felt happy in our ways of rushing and ever movement personally I always preferred the steady and safe location instead my mind was what wandered.
I am a Storm Seer or rather was, I had developed a perception of the other worldly a psychic inclination early on.
I'd spend my nights looking into symbols for Divination though that was not my preference either.
The symbols interested me certainly but I preferred their creation to their destruction in a burning fire to see how they burned.
Ever since I saw the symbols of beasts Tiger, Falcon, Great Bear I was intrested simple shapes yet invoking complex meanings.
My teachers taught me well I can wield a Volkite well enough and have done so on many missions however what they taught me I prefer to use in symbology.
Yet my brothers in the white scars were just that my brothers, we bled and died together and with them I thought I'd always be.
But no, I was chosen for something else. When I was asked to join the Eternal Wardens in a transfer my hearts were….conflicted. As they were explained to me in detail my eyes wided.
They had bested the foul wind beasts time and time again sending them back to their realm the realm of souls and yet beyond that they had killed many...permanently.
The Eternal Wardens had unlocked and utilized the ultimate expression of symbols the runes and with a skill that far exceeded my own indeed their own primarch their gene father was a Rune carver of impassible skill.
I accepted.
The last night I shared with my brothers in the white scars was spent telling stories of old battles won and lost, watching the stars and saying goodbye, I would not see them again that I knew.
So it was with a heavy heart I left my legion and yet with another it beated with renowned vigor.
Being a legionary of the Eternal Wardens could not be more different, ergancy was replaced with preparation, daily Volkite drills was replaced with Bolter drills and my armor was replaced with one to be carved with those I will loose my brothers my friends.
I did not ask, I carved the names of the brothers I lost in the white scars and with them now ever with me I joined the other psychics to debate and carve the symbols of the galaxy into being.
I am Jamadagni Patil once a white tiger now black bear yet my claws and mind are ever sharp.
No idea how many of these I'll do since I tend to not complete my multi parters but here's a librarian coming from the white scars and joining the Eternal Wardens, I will include him working on new rules later.
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What's the standard weaponry for the 11th legion again? Do we still use volkite or we ended up fully transitioning for bolters?
- Location
- Elsewhere
Right now you're still using Volkites, albeit with a portion of the Legion using Bolters by choice.
Orion's Black Covenant Conceptionilzation
Orion's Black Covenant Conceptionilzation
This is sort of an off-the-cuff type of omake, but I figured it was also a good fit to start coming up with ideas involving Orion's Black Covenant. A quick recap: A Black Covenant is an atypical alliance of daemons motivated primarily to defeat those who hold the title of Daemonsbane.
Look no further than a superhero rogues gallery for a modern example granted for these daemons; they are fighting for their existence. From what I've gotten from talks with JAMalam, the general narrative design is that each Black Covenant fits a theme or trope, either associated with their Daemonsbane rival or just because it's interesting or amusing. The most important aspect is this: Black Covenants buck Chaos trends and stereotypes and must try to stop the Daemonbanes.
The design aspects of individual BCs are various. Kesar's Covenant core theme is the Unifier and his council. At the same time, the Slayers are a DnD adventure group, Ori is the Joker/unpredictable agent of chaos, and Auro's is a collection of strange and unusual Daemons, even by Chaos standards. In short, the daemons of the BCs are considered an island of bloodthirsty, scheming, determined misfit toys by the wider daemonic community.
So where do Orion and his supposed BC fit into all of this? Well, let's break down Orion's character.
Many, in and out of the universe, consider Orion a support-offensive type, primarily focused on creating new protos and heroes. He effectively brings out the best in people, as shown by his interactions with the White Scars, Skullface, and non-Imperials such as Aelred and Estrith. Additionally, he is well-regarded for staying true to his duties and protecting the secrets of others.
(Keeping in mind, this isn't taking into account his qualities as the Angel of Humility, as that is an extension of Orion's core personality)
Inversely, Orion has problems with feelings of inadequacy and belonging within the Wardens due to what he believes are shortcomings on his part. It is a dark reflection of his ability to bring out the best in people in that he thinks the same can't be said for himself.
His humanity, one of his greatest strengths, is also one of his greatest weaknesses for entities such as a BC because it makes it easy to target those important to him. Furthermore, the principal means of attacking and undermining him is against those he's trained. In short, if Orion brings out the best in people, his Black Covenant should bring out the worst in others.
Considering these positives and negatives, we have an individual who fits the criteria of a man whose humanity and humility give him the strength to empathize and help others, thus allowing him to bring out the best qualities in them.
This is effectively the Wandering Mentor. The wandering mentor who has gone into self-imposed exile from his homeland but who inspires would-be heroes and lifts them into greatness, and his opposition are those who want to corrupt and taint these heroic souls—a standard good versus evil motif. It's not exactly unique or nuanced, though.
But Jam and I devised a unique take on this because Orion isn't fully the Wandering Mentor himself (that's for a much older and wiser Orion), but rather, he is still acting the part of the Knight-Warden, an Astartes Paladin in all but name. He's almost like a hero from a fairy tale.
And that got me thinking of a fun idea based on a line from the "A Shadow Beckons" omake about how Orion used to read these types of bedtime stories to Aelred when he was still a boy and how Orion already fought a Grimm Tales version of the Ent and Dryad…Orion's BC are, in a sense, the monsters of these stories that come to slay the Knight of Fables.
If Slayer's BC is a group of D&D adventurers, then Orion's BC are the D&D monsters, but with that fable/fairy tale design to them. All the stories people have been raised on hearing or seeing are brought to life, intentionally designed to lure Orion, corrupt the youth and land, and kill the main characters in other stories that Orion could have helped.
Examples of this BC include The Ent/Dryad, a Khornate Balor, Nurglite Dragon, the Wicked Witch of Tzeentch, the Slaaneshi Harpy, and the most important and dangerous member…The Fallen Hero.
Jam pointed out that if Orion were the glorious hero of Anti-Chaos, then the BCs would have one of their own, the Pro-Chaos version—a Blackguard versus the Paladin. In this instance, a daemon prince of an old and forgotten Black Covenant, who originally was another hero, failed to try to kill an Aeldari veteran of the War in Heaven and got crippled for his troubles. This BC of that era ultimately fell into ruin, but the Fallen Hero didn't die, so much so that he went into exile within the warp.
The how and why of him leading this BC is yet to be decided, but it's more than likely they are looking for a chance to either redeem themselves of their ancient failure by killing a Daemonsbane or at least finally die to someone worthy.
A pretty easy theme that invites reflection on the true meaning of heroism and whether it is possible to find redemption even in the darkest of circumstances, even if it's for purely evil purposes.
If we are working off the idea of background motivation that fits Orion's foil, you can go all over the place. Orion claims to be the Angel of Humility, but the problem is that he is becoming an increasingly well-known and famous entity, even among foreigners.
(The Fallen Hero represents hubris in this matter)
Another could be the inevitable tragedy of being a hero. The warp thrives off such things, and Orion has a wife, son, and good friends. He's effectively challenging the warp to make things worse
(The Fallen Hero represents the folly of heroism)
Alternatively, the inevitable drive to the Wandering Mentor concludes that his fate ultimately ends up never having a place to call home truly, and he will outlast those he is close to.
(The Fallen Hero represents the loneliness of the wanderer)
But you get the general idea. Orion's focus is the story of people who work together selflessly for something greater, while his BC is a group of selfish chosen ones vying for the role of the protagonist at the expense of the greater cause.
This is sort of an off-the-cuff type of omake, but I figured it was also a good fit to start coming up with ideas involving Orion's Black Covenant. A quick recap: A Black Covenant is an atypical alliance of daemons motivated primarily to defeat those who hold the title of Daemonsbane.
Look no further than a superhero rogues gallery for a modern example granted for these daemons; they are fighting for their existence. From what I've gotten from talks with JAMalam, the general narrative design is that each Black Covenant fits a theme or trope, either associated with their Daemonsbane rival or just because it's interesting or amusing. The most important aspect is this: Black Covenants buck Chaos trends and stereotypes and must try to stop the Daemonbanes.
The design aspects of individual BCs are various. Kesar's Covenant core theme is the Unifier and his council. At the same time, the Slayers are a DnD adventure group, Ori is the Joker/unpredictable agent of chaos, and Auro's is a collection of strange and unusual Daemons, even by Chaos standards. In short, the daemons of the BCs are considered an island of bloodthirsty, scheming, determined misfit toys by the wider daemonic community.
So where do Orion and his supposed BC fit into all of this? Well, let's break down Orion's character.
Many, in and out of the universe, consider Orion a support-offensive type, primarily focused on creating new protos and heroes. He effectively brings out the best in people, as shown by his interactions with the White Scars, Skullface, and non-Imperials such as Aelred and Estrith. Additionally, he is well-regarded for staying true to his duties and protecting the secrets of others.
(Keeping in mind, this isn't taking into account his qualities as the Angel of Humility, as that is an extension of Orion's core personality)
Inversely, Orion has problems with feelings of inadequacy and belonging within the Wardens due to what he believes are shortcomings on his part. It is a dark reflection of his ability to bring out the best in people in that he thinks the same can't be said for himself.
His humanity, one of his greatest strengths, is also one of his greatest weaknesses for entities such as a BC because it makes it easy to target those important to him. Furthermore, the principal means of attacking and undermining him is against those he's trained. In short, if Orion brings out the best in people, his Black Covenant should bring out the worst in others.
Considering these positives and negatives, we have an individual who fits the criteria of a man whose humanity and humility give him the strength to empathize and help others, thus allowing him to bring out the best qualities in them.
This is effectively the Wandering Mentor. The wandering mentor who has gone into self-imposed exile from his homeland but who inspires would-be heroes and lifts them into greatness, and his opposition are those who want to corrupt and taint these heroic souls—a standard good versus evil motif. It's not exactly unique or nuanced, though.
But Jam and I devised a unique take on this because Orion isn't fully the Wandering Mentor himself (that's for a much older and wiser Orion), but rather, he is still acting the part of the Knight-Warden, an Astartes Paladin in all but name. He's almost like a hero from a fairy tale.
And that got me thinking of a fun idea based on a line from the "A Shadow Beckons" omake about how Orion used to read these types of bedtime stories to Aelred when he was still a boy and how Orion already fought a Grimm Tales version of the Ent and Dryad…Orion's BC are, in a sense, the monsters of these stories that come to slay the Knight of Fables.
If Slayer's BC is a group of D&D adventurers, then Orion's BC are the D&D monsters, but with that fable/fairy tale design to them. All the stories people have been raised on hearing or seeing are brought to life, intentionally designed to lure Orion, corrupt the youth and land, and kill the main characters in other stories that Orion could have helped.
Examples of this BC include The Ent/Dryad, a Khornate Balor, Nurglite Dragon, the Wicked Witch of Tzeentch, the Slaaneshi Harpy, and the most important and dangerous member…The Fallen Hero.
Jam pointed out that if Orion were the glorious hero of Anti-Chaos, then the BCs would have one of their own, the Pro-Chaos version—a Blackguard versus the Paladin. In this instance, a daemon prince of an old and forgotten Black Covenant, who originally was another hero, failed to try to kill an Aeldari veteran of the War in Heaven and got crippled for his troubles. This BC of that era ultimately fell into ruin, but the Fallen Hero didn't die, so much so that he went into exile within the warp.
The how and why of him leading this BC is yet to be decided, but it's more than likely they are looking for a chance to either redeem themselves of their ancient failure by killing a Daemonsbane or at least finally die to someone worthy.
A pretty easy theme that invites reflection on the true meaning of heroism and whether it is possible to find redemption even in the darkest of circumstances, even if it's for purely evil purposes.
If we are working off the idea of background motivation that fits Orion's foil, you can go all over the place. Orion claims to be the Angel of Humility, but the problem is that he is becoming an increasingly well-known and famous entity, even among foreigners.
(The Fallen Hero represents hubris in this matter)
Another could be the inevitable tragedy of being a hero. The warp thrives off such things, and Orion has a wife, son, and good friends. He's effectively challenging the warp to make things worse
(The Fallen Hero represents the folly of heroism)
Alternatively, the inevitable drive to the Wandering Mentor concludes that his fate ultimately ends up never having a place to call home truly, and he will outlast those he is close to.
(The Fallen Hero represents the loneliness of the wanderer)
But you get the general idea. Orion's focus is the story of people who work together selflessly for something greater, while his BC is a group of selfish chosen ones vying for the role of the protagonist at the expense of the greater cause.
Open Wars, Hidden Causes, and Secret Masters (Must Read)
Open Wars, Hidden Causes, and Secret Masters
The insidious nature of hatred lies in its propensity to be wielded for misguided ends or directed at the wrong adversaries. Yet, like any emotion, hatred itself is not inherently evil, just as love is not inherently pure goodness. Contrary to the simplistic narratives propagated by mortals and deities alike, each emotion has its rightful time and place in the human experience.
Recently, Corvus Corax found himself questioning his convictions on this matter. While hatred had served him as a potent tool in his resistance against those who opposed him, love granted him a broader perspective. Reflecting on his past sentiments towards Sachmis, he realized that a singular focus on hatred would have yielded nothing substantial.
Though removing Sachmis from the equation might have seemed like a solution, his love for her catalyzed a transformation within her. Despite her lingering flaws of arrogance, hedonism, and a propensity for violence, she had softened her demeanor, relinquishing her cruelty and harshness towards others.
More importantly, she had begun to heed Corvus's counsel when resolving problems. Through open dialogue, their exchanges proved more productive and rewarding than he had ever imagined possible with a xeno, let alone a Drukhari.
And that was the problem. Why shouldn't Corvus try again if he had already done it once? What was the worst that could happen now? He almost died to the Emperor for aiding in the coup and killing Custodes. Corvus was a dead man walking, and there was a bit of freedom in knowing that.
It was strange knowing that he didn't really care, either. He was worried, but only in the sense that his life was in jeopardy. Otherwise, he didn't mind the situation. Besides, Corvus knew the Emperor would be busy for the foreseeable future. Now, all that mattered was the Lord of Ravens playing his cards closer to his chest and not making any more enemies.
Corvus found solace in one undeniable truth: he wasn't facing the challenges ahead alone. He was surrounded by friends and allies, individuals of remarkable power and unwavering loyalty. As the moment of no return loomed, Corvus took comfort in knowing he wouldn't be left to confront it powerless or isolated. As sentimental as it was to believe, love proved to be a beacon of strength and unity, binding souls together even in the darkest of times.
With this realization came a renewed sense of purpose. Corvus understood that his promises mattered, not just to himself but to those who stood by him. As long as they remained steadfast in their commitment, so would he. Hence, when Roboute sent an urgent request for air, Corvus didn't hesitate to answer.
Once more, the XIIIth and XIXth legions rallied for war. It was almost a good distraction for Corvus. Maybe he can also do some good for the galaxy.
Sometime later…
The Ocara system was a modest collection of worlds and moons that thrived on industries such as promethium extraction, grox farming, and the mining of rare earth metals. It was a tranquil backwater by galactic standards, earning it the colloquial label of "sleepy," reminiscent of an Old Earth idiom. Thus, the arrival of even a single Space Marine Legion would have been cause for celebration among the locals, let alone two, with their Primarchs leading the charge.
Roboute had strategically chosen this location due to its proximity to a network of warp lanes that would one day render the Ocara system vital to the Realm of Ultramar. For now, it served as a rallying point. However, the system was ill-equipped to accommodate the massive influx of troops and ships brought by the XIIIth and XIXth Legions, numbering in the thousands.
Fortunately, Roboute, ever the logistical master, had foreseen this challenge and arrived prepared, bringing with his fleets the necessary supply trains to sustain his forces. He made arrangements to compensate them generously in exchange for whatever support the governments of Ocara could offer. Though a significant sum would undoubtedly find its way into their coffers by the expedition's end, to Roboute, it was a trifling expense.
Corvus met with Roboute on Gevora, the capital world of the Ocara system, amidst a lavish gala hosted by the planetary governors in honor of the Primarchs and their Astartes. After fulfilling their obligatory appearances and enduring a few speeches by Roboute, the two Primarchs, accompanied by their senior captains, withdrew to a prepared conference room to discuss why Corvus and his sons had been summoned.
"Your timing, as always, is impeccable, brother," Roboute began with a warm smile. "You've arrived in record time, I must say."
Corvus offered a nonchalant shrug. "The warp seems to be behaving itself these days." Indeed, the turbulent currents of the Immaterium appeared to have eased for most vessels, excluding those venturing too close to the Maelstrom, like the unfortunate ships near Kesar.
Roboute nodded in agreement. "And clearing warp storms is proving to be a significant development." He gestured toward a holoprojector installed in the room. "It's unveiling previously uncharted warp lanes, one of which led the 254th expedition to discover five entire sectors of previously isolated space."
"A remarkable discovery for the Realm of Ultramar, no doubt," Corvus remarked a hint of humor in his voice. "But I assume you didn't summon me here just to boast about it."
Without a word, Roboute activated the holoprojector, revealing a vast expanse of space spanning five sectors. Corvus's attention was drawn to the labels displayed on the sectors: four were marked in green as the "Stellar Empire of Ascalin," while the remaining sector appeared in red, designated as the "Free Worlds Coalition."
"I do hope the green means good for us," Corvus remarked wryly as he scrutinized the map before him. The sheer scale of the Stellar Empire of Ascalin, boasting over 1,000 worlds and planets, was daunting, to say the least. In contrast, the Free Worlds Coalition appeared significantly smaller, with a mere 300 entities under its banner. If Corvus had to choose an adversary, he would certainly prefer to face the faction with fewer resources to draw upon.
Roboute nodded, though his expression betrayed a hint of concern. "That is correct," he conceded. "Ascalin has effectively joined the Realm of Ultramar. However, their willingness to join stems from a desperate need for assistance against this Free Worlds Coalition. They are evidently losing their war against them."
Corvus found that interesting. Considering the size and scale of Ascalin and assuming they had sufficient technology, resources, industry, and people, they'd only be losing if the coalition decidedly fielded soldiers and ships on the level of the Imperium. He was starting to understand why Roboute called for his aid.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to make ourselves comfortable," Corvus suggested, his mind already turning to the task. With a subtle gesture, he summoned a nearby servitor and instructed it to procure refreshments from the attendants waiting outside. "I have a feeling we're in for a lengthy briefing."
The conflict between the Stellar Empire of Ascalin and the Free Worlds Coalition bore a classic dispute's hallmarks. Like predators sensing weakness, one side had seized upon perceived vulnerabilities and launched a ferocious assault against their adversaries. Yet, what struck Corvus as particularly perplexing was the seemingly disjointed and convoluted nature of the reasons behind this sudden eruption of hostilities.
Both Ascalin and the Coalition had coexisted for nearly three millennia, albeit with occasional border skirmishes and trade disputes—an otherwise innocuous relationship. Yet everything changed a decade ago when rather drastic accusations were made.
Various manufactured grievances emerged: ancient conflicts over contested star systems, ideological differences regarding governance and sovereignty that had never been an issue were thrust into the spotlight, and accusations of clandestine support for insurgent activities fueled the flames of discord. This culminated with claims of military build-up within each nation before it eventually became an armed conflict.
Roboute harbored doubts about the authenticity of the conflict's origins. He couldn't shake the suspicion that external forces were at play, deliberately stoking tensions to serve their agenda. Both brothers knew better. However, he conceded to himself and Corvus that his perspective was limited; he had only heard one side of the story.
This was especially true when the Free Worlds Coalition's actions were assessed. Their refusal to dialogue with the Imperium delegation and subsequent hostile actions left little room for interpretation. In Roboute's eyes, this blatant aggression justified his concerns. Corvus, sharing his brother's sentiments, nodded in agreement.
Conversely, the Stellar Empire's invitation to Roboute suggested a willingness to engage in diplomatic discourse and seek a peaceful resolution and integration. This gesture earned them favorable regard from Roboute and Corvus alike. It made sense, though.
The Empire operated as a constitutional monarchy, with Tzarnia Lysanda Solara Voss as its head of state. However, most power resided within the Concordium, an assembly of bureaucratic institutions, regional governors, and elected representatives. This system ensured a dispersion of control and accountability, aligning closely with the principles of governance upheld within the Realm of Ultramar. There was enough freedom for the citizens to make their voices heard, but a centralized authority held sway over the final decision.
This was especially evident in the case of the Tzarnia, whose authority extended over the empire's noble houses, educational institutions, and spacer guilds. Most significantly, she commanded the formidable might of the Ascalin Royal Navy and Marines. When Corvus reviewed the reports detailing the Ascalin naval forces, a twinge of envy crept into his thoughts.
The Ascalin Royal Navy boasted an armada of thousands of capital ships, supported by an impressive array of escorts, transports, and service vessels. Their society was finely tuned to produce exceptional crews, highly skilled officers, and masterful shipwrights. Yet, even with such formidable naval power at their disposal, Corvus couldn't help but question how Ascalin found themselves on the losing end of the conflict.
Adding to the confusion were the crown jewels of the Ascalin navy: four Dreadnoughts, colossal vessels reminiscent of Gloriana-class battleships but enhanced with technology dating back to the Dark Age of Technology, known affectionately as Colossus-class. These warships' sheer might and sophistication left Corvus pondering the paradox of Ascalin's apparent struggle in the ongoing war.
Roboute explained there were two components to this, albeit rather multifaceted ones.
First, Ascalin bore the scars of a devastating civil war that spanned the last century after a dynastic dispute got out of hand. Some Tzar died without an heir, leading to multiple houses vying for control and inevitably plunging their empire into chaos. The civil war that followed was quite devastating, and when Lysanda assumed leadership, she inherited a shattered realm ravaged by it.
It was nothing short of a miracle that no one tried to secede. The Ascalians are quite loyal to the crown, or at least the idea of it. Which is saying something. Over 600 worlds lay in ruins, and their once-thriving civilizations were almost reduced to rubble. In a desperate bid for survival, much of the population and industry had been relocated to orbital facilities, stations, and moons.
Lysanda made a conscious effort to preserve as much of their orbital industry as possible and start the rebuilding only a year after she became Tzarnia and blew all expectations of her being a mild ruler. She pulled off several economic miracles within a few years and began a reconstruction effort that allowed their empire to recover within a generation. Only a Primarch could have pulled off such a feat.
However, as Roboute pointed out, the plan had considerable faults. Ascalin's strategy of relocating significant portions of its populace and infrastructure to space didn't mean worlds were abandoned. They couldn't. So many of the populations who survived the civil war and hadn't been moved off-world were stuck on these ruined worlds.
So, despite the apparent planet disparity between Ascalin and the Coalition, the reality was more nuanced. Ascalin had more ruined worlds, while the Coalitions were all completely operational and whole. While the Tzarnia, through the establishment of the Concordium, orchestrated economic revitalization efforts, the challenges she faced were immense. When eventual war broke out between these two, the Coalition used this to their advantage, sending agents to exacerbate Asclain's woes by inciting rebellions among the inhabitants of these ravaged worlds.
As Roboute delved deeper into his explanation, he illuminated the key factors behind the Free Worlds Coalition's apparent success. The Royal Ascalin Ministry of Intelligence had provided a wealth of detailed information, shedding light on the Coalition's formidable capabilities.
A retrospective examination of the Coalition's history unveiled a rich tapestry of martial culture and tradition deeply ingrained within its foundation, along with the telltale signs of inevitable corruption. Millennia ago, the founders of what would one day be the Coalition arrived in the Shield Sector and were a motley assembly of mercenaries, seasoned soldiers, and exiled political dissidents hailing from a region identified by Roboute as the Tributary Stars—a trio of sectors now under the dominion of the Dark Angels.
Essentially, the Coalition survived only through brutal force and cunning. Their worlds function as militarized enclaves and martial societies masquerading as conventional governments. This helped them survive numerous raiders, Orks, and other attempts to destroy their homes. No one has ever succeeded in conquering their worlds, or so they claim.
Beyond that, every facet of their existence was meticulously crafted to bolster their military prowess and safeguard their perceived sovereignty. Paramount to this militaristic ethos was the omnipresent authority of Central Command, or CENCOM—an oligarchy comprising generals, admirals, and political commissars who exerted an iron-fisted control over all aspects of Coalition society.
The lifeblood of the Coalition, as Roboute elucidated, lay in the unwavering devotion to sustaining CENCOM's authority. No entity, be it human or artificial, was exempt from this imperative—not even their highly sophisticated Artificial intelligence, known as Auroras.
These AI constructs have existed for thousands of years and served as the invisible architects of Coalition governance. They meticulously orchestrated the intricacies of administration and logistics to ensure seamless operations, affording CENCOM the freedom to focus on other pursuits. Yet unlike the AIs that the Imperium had encountered, these Auroras were heavily shackled and thus extremely limited, but this was an intentional design.
As Roboute continued his exposition, he revealed a clandestine force within the Coalition known as the Liberators—a formidable cadre of augmented and extensively trained super-soldiers whose capabilities rivaled, if not surpassed, those of the renowned Astartes. However, skepticism lingered among the Ascalians, who harbored suspicions that the Liberators were not merely enhanced soldiers but war synths—artificial beings meticulously crafted and bred for the singular purpose of warfare.
This revelation marked a point at which Roboute returned to his theory of manipulation and clandestine intervention from an outside source. The recent emergence of the Liberators raised unsettling questions regarding the Coalition's true capabilities and the origins of their advanced technology and weaponry.
Regardless, the Liberators proved to be a formidable force on the battlefield, delivering devastating blows to Ascalin's ground forces and demonstrating unparalleled proficiency in infiltration and subterfuge. They fought on the frontlines, sabotaged the Ascalin worlds, and aided insurgents.
As Roboute delved into the reports concerning the Coalition Navy, Corvus's interest was piqued upon seeing the claims. The intelligence painted a confusing picture of the Coalition's naval capabilities—an arsenal comprised of a mere hundred battleships and a few thousand cruisers primarily relegated to system defense duties. Quite literally pathetic compared to the Stellar Empire.
However, the mention of these "Panthera-Class Raiders" captured Corvus's attention. The wreckage of one such vessel had recently been recovered by Ascalin forces following the Battle of Heonox Rift. While the salvage yielded limited technological insights, the design bore a striking resemblance to that of a Druhkari ship—a revelation that intrigued Corvus immensely.
A sense of unease washed over him as Corvus delved deeper into the reports and analyzed combat footage. The tactics employed by the Coalition Navy mirrored those once used by his Sachmis during the Void War against him, which made Corvus agree that there was an outside force at play here.
Someone started this war for a reason.
"There is quite a lot more to go over," Roboute announced upon finishing this part of the briefing to his brother and his sons. "But you can see now when I sought your aid."
The Lord of Ravens looked unhappy with this development, "This Coalition is just a puppet to some unseen force, likely Druhkari, and giving them access to extremely dangerous resources. If they were to take control of Ascalin, they'd become a serious threat to the Imperium."
"Quite right." Roboute agreed as he poured himself some Gevora wine, "And yet I should also point out the opportunity that presents itself to us both. If brought to heel and compliance, the Coalition and Stellar Empire will be extremely vital sources of industry and resources."
Corvus couldn't agree more. Controlling these five sectors would be a significant boon to the Realm of Ultramar. Everything from these Dreadnoughts and royal navy to the Coalition Liberators and Auroras. These Pantheras also greatly interested Corvus, who had wanted to incorporate Aeldari ship design for some time.
"Agreed." Corvus didn't need much convincing to help his brother, "I shall provide my legions aid and more to see us through to this quickly and effectively."
"Excellent." Roboute sounded grateful, "As you can imagine, this will be a rather difficult compliance. We have time to prepare things, as the Ascalins recently stopped one of the coalition's offensives. I'll need time to get my sons into position, which will take about six months. As such, I'm not against outside aid."
Outside aiding means the Aeldari or anything else. Roboute had stopped caring about whether or not he'd get in trouble for this. As far as the Lord of Ultramar was concerned, he was allowed to conduct himself as he wished. Corvus agreed with the sentiment.
When considering his options, Corvus believed he knew who to bring, "I'll bring Sachmis and Alcar with me for this. I have a rather outrageous idea if you are willing to entertain it."
Roboute merely shrugged, "I trust your judgment, Corvus. Nothing is off the table as long as it isn't Chaos-related."
"Let's see how you feel after I explain the idea." Corvus finished his fifth glass of wine and sat it on the table. "What do you know about Morningstar?"
One month later…
Tracking down the Night Phoenix was easy enough. Sachmis always made it easy for her to be found, although she also made him work for it—her penchant for leaving breadcrumbs for him to follow never failed to amuse him. Once the ship's location was determined, traversing through the Webway to reach her became a relatively swift journey, reducing what could have taken months to a mere three weeks. It never stopped to amaze Corvus the sort of power the Aeldari had via the Webway.
Upon Sachmis receiving word of his arrival, her excitement, and playful demeanor were palpable. This set the stage for a few hours of lighthearted banter and affectionate teasing before inevitably succumbing to the allure of each other's embrace for the remainder of the day and night. He almost wondered if Venus was on the ship, but the shadows whispered the goddess was elsewhere.
It was the little things that made Corvus appreciate Sachmis. Despite the passage of time and the weight of their relationship, their passion and intimacy seemed undiminished, as if they were still the impetuous young lovers who once tried to kill one another.
"I suppose you've something to ask, yes?" Sachmis asked Corvus. He was still resting in bed while she was fixing her hair in front of a mirror at what he could only assume to be some sort of vanity, "Because I doubt you came over just for a rump in bed."
"Perhaps I do," Corvus replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Though I must confess, the allure of your company was certainly a compelling reason to make the journey."
Her soft and knowing laughter filled the room. "Aren't you being sweet," she remarked affectionately, her gaze lingering on him through the reflection in the mirror. "Much as I'd love to believe that, you don't move without reason, love."
She knew him well enough, just as Corvus did with her, "Just because I came here for business doesn't mean I can't mix pleasure with it."
Again, that elicited a small laugh, "You speak true—business and pleasure need not be mutually exclusive."
Deciding to get a little more intimate, Corvus got out of bed. As he approached her, Sachmis remained focused on her reflection. "So, what is your business then?" she inquired, her tone casual yet tinged with anticipation. He knew it was rare of him to ask for her direct and open aid in anything.
Corvus retrieved a small data chit from his satchel. "I want your help with a compliance," he explained, his gaze meeting Sachmis's through the mirror. She looked a tad disappointed in the request, but she seemed interested.
Sachmis deliberated momentarily before responding, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. "And what's in it for me?" she queried, her interest piqued by potential rewards.
With a smirk, Corvus offered a tantalizing proposition. "How about a fleet of ships?" he suggested, knowing full well the allure such an offer held for his formidable lover.
Sachmis considered his proposal thoughtfully, weighing the benefits against the risks. "Tempting," she conceded, though a hint of skepticism tempered her enthusiasm. "But what, precisely, is the nature of the task?"
Corvus outlined the objectives succinctly, his words infused with the confidence of a seasoned strategist. "Destroying enemy fleets, disrupting logistical lines, and acquiring valuable technologies and intelligence for our forces," he summarized.
"Sounds exciting," Sachmis remarked, her playful smile suggesting a hint of amusement at Corvus's proposition. Yet, just as Corvus dared to believe he had secured her cooperation, she surprised him with a decisive, "But I think I'll pass."
Corvus blinked in mild astonishment at Sachmis's refusal. "And what, pray tell, is your reason for declining?" he inquired, unable to hide his curiosity.
Sachmis's response was characteristically straightforward. "Simply put, it doesn't pique my interest," she explained nonchalantly.
Corvus couldn't help but be taken aback by her casual dismissal. "But you just described it as exciting," he pointed out, struggling to comprehend her sudden change of heart.
Sachmis offered him a knowing smile, her gaze holding a trace of wistfulness. "Exciting, perhaps, for those who find thrill in such mundane pursuits," she remarked, her tone tinged with nostalgia. "But for me, the prospect of battling mere humans pales compared to the exhilaration of our past exploits among the stars."
Once again, Sachmis's disdain for baseline humanity was evident in her reluctance to conflict with them. Corvus, undeterred, attempted a different approach to sway her opinion. "Aren't you the least bit curious about us fighting alongside one another? When was the last time we did that?" he inquired, his hand gently tracing the curve of her back in a subtle gesture of intimacy.
Sachmis's smirk hinted at her amusement, but she remained steadfast in her decision. "Still not interested. But you can keep your hand there if you'd like," she teased, her playful demeanor contrasting with Corvus's growing frustration.
Miffed by her nonchalant response, Corvus withdrew his hand, his expression darkening with irritation. Sachmis's amusement only seemed to intensify in response to his annoyance.
Determined to sway her decision, Corvus presented the data chit, hoping to appeal to her curiosity with the promise of enlightening combat footage. "Maybe you'll change your mind if you review some of the enemy's combat footage. I think you'd find it enlightening," he suggested, his tone laced with a hint of persuasion.
Sachmis regarded him with a knowing look, her smirk taking on a devious edge. "You really want me to join you," she observed, her tone suggestive. "Tell me... if I still say no, will you get on your knees and beg me?" she teased, her allure undeniable.
Corvus's response was firm and resolute, his demeanor unwavering despite her provocative insinuations. "I don't bow or beg," he stated softly, a tantalizing smile on his lips. "Not even to my woman." He extended the data chit towards her, inviting her to reconsider.
Deciding to indulge her lover, Sachmis rolled her eyes but acquiesced, snatching the data chit before striding over to a machine that Corvus recognized as an Aeldari cogitator. The intricate technology seamlessly integrated various devices, allowing for the review of what Sachmis deemed "primitive" files.
"What is it about these humans that intrigues you so?" Sachmis inquired as the files loaded and flickered to life on the display. "Surely, you're not concerned with engaging in battle with them?"
Corvus approached Sachmis; his gaze fixed on the screen as he guided her through the footage. "It's not the people themselves that concern me," he explained, "but rather the masters possibly controlling them." He directed her attention to specific video files labeled Gamma five through seven, anticipating her reaction.
As Sachmis began reviewing the footage of a Coalition raid against an Ascalin star fortress, her initial disinterest gave way to a keen focus as she observed the unfolding events. Moments later, she paused the video, rewinding it to examine a particular sequence with intense scrutiny. "Is there more footage available? Perhaps from a different angle?" she requested, her demeanor shifting from playful to deadly serious.
Corvus complied, selecting additional vids for Sachmis's perusal as she delved deeper into the footage. Her playful nature faded and was replaced by a palpable intensity and focus. After thirty minutes of meticulous analysis, she spoke, her tone grave. "These ships are employing Jainorio fleet tactics," she remarked, her voice tinged with recognition. "I know because I've used them myself."
Corvus nodded in agreement. "That was my assessment as well," he confirmed, gesturing towards the footage of the Coalition raiders. "Furthermore, these ships incorporate Drukhari designs and utilize stealth technology reminiscent of shadow fields rather than reflex shields."
"I couldn't care less about that," Sachmis retorted heatedly. "What concerns me is that someone from House Jainorio is aiding these humans, which suggests that someone within this 'coalition' possesses knowledge of Artari and Port Kalthuanesh."
She rose from her seat, a mix of agitation and anticipation evident in her demeanor. "It's been too long since I've had the chance to spill blood from that wretched family. And if it's Artari, I'll take any opportunity to end his life personally," Sachmis declared with a fervor that reminded Corvus of when they had locked blades. Some things never change.
"Then you'll most certainly be joining us," Corvus affirmed, relieved to have secured her commitment. Sachmis nodded in agreement, her mind seemingly consumed by thoughts of vengeance.
However, Corvus couldn't shake the unease that gripped him as he observed Sachmis's tumultuous emotions. "This is distressing you," he ventured, his concern evident in his voice.
"In some capacity," Sachmis conceded, her expression darkening momentarily before she regained her composure. "But that's of little consequence. When do we depart?" she demanded, her eagerness to embark on the mission overriding any reservations she may have harbored.
Before Corvus could respond, Sachmis closed the distance between them, pressing herself against him in a not-so-subtle display of desire and determination. Her eyes sparkled with a primal intensity, reflecting her thirst for battle and longing for him.
"Whenever your ship and crew are prepared," Corvus replied, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement at her boldness. "And what of Venus?"
Sachmis's hands snaked around his waist, her proximity sending a thrill through him. "What about her?" she retorted, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I'm more than capable of fighting and killing without her. Besides, with you by my side, I'll have all the protection I need," she added with a playful smirk, her words laced with confidence and desire.
Corvus didn't know whether to enjoy or be confused by the fact that hearing those words gave him more energy and enthusiasm to stay with Sachmis for the rest of the night. Still, he had gotten her to help with this compliance, which was also a plus.
Sometime later, within the Black Library…
It took only a few weeks for Corvus to track down Alcar after speaking with Eldrad. Alcar's problem was that his wanderlust often led him astray when he wasn't working on an assignment.
It seemed one of his visions led to him aiding one of the new "vassals" recently established by the Aeldari, but judging by the mixture of exasperation and relief displayed by his compatriots when Corvus mentioned needing his assistance elsewhere, it was clear that Alcar had once again overstayed his welcome.
Corvus located Alcar on the bridge of a Hellebore, the Neverwinter, and was engaged in a heated exchange with what appeared to be the ship's captain, who only allowed the Primarch on their ship once he mentioned needing Alcar. Upon spotting Corvus's arrival, the Farseer nodded in resignation before returning his attention to the ongoing argument.
From the snippets of conversation, Corvus overheard, it was evident that Alcar had managed to offend the captain of the Corsair ship with his sharp tongue, eliciting a barrage of threats in return. It was not difficult for Corvus to surmise that Alcar had likely disparaged the captain's conduct in front of the local human government of the planet below.
As Corvus braced himself to intervene in the escalating argument, he watched as the Corsair captain, clearly exasperated, abruptly withdrew from the conversation, leaving Corvus to deal with the aftermath. With the tension diffused and the crew returning to their duties, he turned his attention to Alcar, who appeared visibly annoyed by the exchange.
Alcar offered an explanation tinged with frustration. "I was merely offering advice on how to navigate future discussions with humans, and suddenly, I'm accused of unsavory intentions," he explained, his irritation evident in his tone.
Corvus didn't respond, as he was still trying to determine the intricacies of Aeldari culture and communication. He chose to bypass the nuances and get straight to the point. "You know why I'm here," he stated, more as an assertion than a question.
Alcar waved off the remark dismissively. "Yes, yes. My visions have already informed me of your purpose for being here," he acknowledged, his gaze distant as he contemplated his next words. "I will accompany you, but I have a condition for my assistance."
"And what might that be?" Corvus inquired, anticipating the unconventional terms often accompanying Alcar's aid.
"I require the elimination of a certain individual," Alcar revealed with all the weight of a man who wasn't ordering murder but surprising Corvus more with the rather straightforward objective.
"The target is Lord General Cendric Nelhaller of the 65th Mehisto Kin. While we Aeldari could handle the task ourselves, it is imperative that you do it. If for no other reason than we don't want to risk any of our own getting caught or killed."
Corvus frowned, taken aback by the unexpected nature of the request. "Cendric Nelhaller isn't a threat to anyone outside of the battlefield," he countered, his tone firm. "He's renowned for his humanitarian efforts and is esteemed by civilians and soldiers. His only fault is his abrasive demeanor towards those who oppose him."
That was also one of Vulkans generals. Cendric Nelhaller was perhaps one of the most cantankerous, grouchy, and belligerent of certain practices within the Imperium, but he was also an effective tactician and general, extremely loyal to humanity and the Emperor. This is probably the only reason he didn't become a member of the Gamma Factions.
"That's all well and good," Alcar remarked dismissively, "but he's doomed to become a problem—both for humanity and the Aeldari. His unwavering spirit and lofty goals are focused on reshaping the galaxy into a better place for all, a noble pursuit that will inevitably lead him down a treacherous path."
Corvus furrowed his brow, struggling to comprehend how such admirable intentions could spell disaster. "How?" he pressed, his curiosity piqued. "And why?"
"Assassins will target his family," Alcar explained grimly, his voice tinged with foreboding. "Their deaths will plunge him into a maelstrom of despair and rage, driving him to unleash a devastating weapon upon dozens of worlds and a small fleet of Aeldari transports. The casualties will be catastrophic—thousands of my kin and hundreds of billions of humans, all within the domain of your brother, Vulkan."
The gravity of Alcar's vision weighed on Corvus, and the implications of a supposed catastrophe were too dire to ignore. That said, he couldn't fully reconcile himself of preemptively ending a life based solely on a vision of the future.
"Is there no other way?" Corvus questioned. "Can't we simply increase security around his family? Prevent their deaths before it's too late?"
Alcar's response was tinged with a hint of concession. "You could certainly attempt it," he conceded, his demeanor impassive. "But consider the burden it would place upon those assigned to protect them. Enduring the constant threat of danger, alongside a man known for his... confrontational nature, would surely take its toll."
Corvus grappled with the nuances of Alcar's request. "Do you truly desire this man's death, or are you simply seeking to prevent him from becoming a threat?" he inquired, seeking clarity amidst the uncertainty.
"Preventing him from becoming a problem would suffice," Alcar clarified, his tone measured. "However, I require assurances that you will address this matter once our current task is concluded."
Satisfied with the response, Corvus nodded. "Very well," he conceded. "I'll devise a suitable course of action. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Alcar's expression remained guarded, his dissatisfaction evident. "You should consider the implications of altering the fate of individuals such as the one I mentioned," he cautioned. "While it is possible to influence outcomes, one cannot easily defy destiny."
Corvus listened to Alcar's words with a hint of skepticism. Though he had received similar warnings from Eldrad, the enigmatic Great Seer of the Aeldari, Corvus remained steadfast in believing that even the most foretold destinies could be altered. "Your counsel is duly noted," he acknowledged, his tone respectful yet resolute. "Nevertheless, I will handle this matter accordingly."
"One more thing," Alcar interjected before departing, his tone solemn. "Should you seek Morningstar's aid, I urge you not to approach him directly. Instead, beseech the Laughing God and request the dispatch of a messenger. Otherwise, you risk incurring the wrath of Morningstar's followers. That is all I will say on the matter."
With that enigmatic warning, Alcar took his leave, leaving Corvus to ponder the cryptic words and their implications. As he contemplated the significance of Alcar's counsel, Corvus couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this request than met the eye.
One month later…
Yehat was a world of striking contrasts, with its verdant green skies juxtaposed against the crimson hue of its oceans. Its untamed forests and jungles, though wild and savage, teemed with life and abundance. To the untrained eye, one might mistake this planet for a death world, yet its allure was undeniable.
Corvus was here on business. As the Primarch made his way to meet with the ruling government of the Gradation, the Rukhs, he couldn't help but admire that Ruhhkh seemed to have recovered from the artificial plague unleashed upon them. Despite this, there was a lingering sense of fear and mistrust, for while they welcomed him with open arms, grateful for his assistance in their recovery efforts, he could sense their unease.
Corvus's attempt to enlist Noius Malion for a mission hit a snag upon reaching the xeno's home in the heart of the Aeryln Reach. Despite Corvus's persuasive efforts, Noius seemed hesitant to join the endeavor.
"I have no desire to return to the life of an assassin," Noius stated with a trace of his peculiar xeno accent. "And surely, you have capable operatives of your own?"
"Indeed, I do," Corvus acknowledged. "But your unique talents for navigating human societies surpass those of most humans I know."
Noius regarded Corvus with a quizzical expression. "And you believe that qualifies me to infiltrate an unknown enclave of militant humans?"
"You are being considered because I require someone with the skill to eliminate specific targets and monitor covert activities," Corvus clarified. "Your performance on Falcia was exemplary, and this time, you will have the full support of my legion."
While Corvus laid out his rationale, Noius remained visibly apprehensive. "I understand your concerns," Corvus acknowledged, sensing the xeno's unease. "But your past success speaks for itself. We can ensure the mission is carried out swiftly and efficiently."
Noius's expression softened slightly, though the apprehension lingered in his eyes. "The thought of returning to such a role fills me with dread," he admitted reluctantly.
"Hmm, could it be that you've reached a point where you see the potential for your people to thrive beyond mere survival?" Corvus speculated, recognizing the weight of Noius's experience and his kin's desire for a better future.
"I have indeed contemplated my role in shaping the future of my people," Noius acknowledged thoughtfully. "And I believe I could contribute far more as a true leader of the Rukh."
Corvus nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of strong and principled leadership. "There are myriad ways in which this mission could benefit your people," he urged, emphasizing the significance of his offer. "The support of a Primarch carries weight, especially in the face of the dangers that lie ahead."
Intrigued by the prospect, Noius considered Corvus's words carefully. "It is indeed an enticing proposition," he conceded, his gaze fixed expectantly on Corvus. "My people are still rebuilding, and the technological advancements within the Imperium could expedite our recovery."
"You seek genetic technologies, then?" Corvus inquired, his mind already contemplating the implications. "For the purpose of population growth and planetary adaptation?"
"Yes," Noius affirmed. "Our unique physiology presents challenges when it comes to inhabiting certain environments. With the right advancements, we could expand our reach within our sector and ensure the survival of our people for generations to come."
Corvus considered the implications of such an arrangement, recognizing the potential for the Gradation to flourish under Noius's leadership. "I would require assurances from your people," he cautioned, mindful of the complexities involved. "But if we can establish trust and cooperation, the benefits could be substantial."
"Agreed," Noius responded, his conviction unwavering. "Many among the Rukhs remain wary of humanity, but this could be a significant step towards reconciliation. Numerous individuals within the Grads and Uks are eager to contribute. With your support, we could raise several regiments of Rukh within a few short years under my command."
"Trading the role of an assassin for that of a general, it seems," Corvus remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I never claimed to be retiring my weapons," Noius replied wryly.
A rather sneaky move by Noius, "So…one last mission before becoming leader of your own army."
Noius nodded, "A fitting promotion. The Sacred Winds shall bless me further, and you as well, Corvus Corax. For they do not judge who takes them in stride."
Four months later…
With time slipping away, Corvus and his allies had made every possible preparation within the constraints of the moment. While news from Roboute indicated that the Stellar Empire's counter-offensive against the Coalition was underway, progress seemed slower than anticipated and likely wouldn't see much success. Nevertheless, a grim silver lining soon emerged—the Stellar Empire's willingness to cede further control to the Imperium of Man.
For the Imperium, the time had come to act decisively. Over the past few months, he had meticulously crafted a battle plan alongside his makeshift "war council," though the term was perhaps too generous for the eclectic group assembled. Despite their efforts, the anticipated arrival of Morningstar, crucial to their strategy, remained elusive, though assurances from the Laughing God offered a sliver of reassurance.
Roboute and his sons had been briefed on the plan several weeks before the meeting, rendering the upcoming discussion more of a formality than anything else. According to Corvus's calculations, they anticipated achieving total victory against the Coalition within three years, barring any unforeseen interventions by external forces.
Corvus had already apprised Eldrad and his cadre of farseers of the situation while attending to other pressing matters. The Great Seer concurred that the potential involvement of a Drukhari detachment, particularly one linked to the enigmatic Ulwarth, necessitated eliminating this proxy force.
They aimed to craft a comprehensive, long-term strategy to defeat the Coalition decisively, ideally ending their threat. While the magnitude of the task loomed large, the presence of seasoned commanders and heroic figures within their ranks imbued Corvus with optimism. Yet, the paramount challenge remained: minimizing casualties and preserving vital infrastructure.
As Corvus and his legion journeyed to the Ascalin capital world of Rusheim for the anticipated rendezvous, Alcar approached the Primarch with a forewarning. He cryptically alluded to unseen machinations within the conflict and hinted that his visions would soon unveil the truth. Until then, caution was advised.
"Elements and individuals are going to great lengths to hide their intentions. Both sides of this war have something they wish to remain hidden. Never fear; such secrets will be mine soon enough."
Rusheim, two weeks later…
Capital Hive, Tzargrad…
Upon their arrival at Rusheimthe, the Primarchs were greeted by a magnificent display of opulence and authority befitting the occasion. Every detail of the grand ceremony had been meticulously arranged to showcase the wealth and power of the Ascalin empire.
Renowned regiments marched in precision, majestic flyovers painted the sky, and dignitaries from both minor and major houses of Ascalin, alongside ministers of the Concordium, graced the gathering with their presence. And, of course, the Tzarnia herself presided over it all. This was as much a show for the Imperials as it was for the citizens of her empire.
Lysanda Solara Voss, in her regal splendor, cut an imposing figure as she welcomed the Primarchs. Despite her youthful appearance, Corvus couldn't help but wonder about the age concealed beneath the surface, courtesy of rejuvenation treatments.
With the grace and pedigree of aristocracy flowing through her veins, she looked every part a queen. Corvus wondered then why she was unmarried, which raised speculation about potential alliances with the Realm of Ultramar.
Corvus wouldn't put it past Roboute, although he had made some rather interesting remarks after a few closed-door sessions with the Tzarnia. He claimed that while she was a great administrator and spymistress, there was no doubt in his mind that she wasn't the architect of the Stellar Empires' return to grace following their civil war.
Pushing aside such concerns, Corvus focused on winning this war. Once the elaborate ceremonies concluded, the diplomatic and military envoys were ushered into the secured confines of the Tzarnia's palace.
"I am honored to extend a warm welcome to the Imperium of Man," began the Tzarnia, her tone reflecting both eagerness and gratitude. "The Concordium and I deeply appreciate your assistance during our time of need."
Roboute assumed leadership, his words carrying the weight of authority. "The Imperium of Man is responsible for safeguarding all of humanity. Unfortunately, the Free Worlds Coalition has rejected multiple attempts for a peaceful dialogue, forcing us into this conflict. However, as promised, I have brought specialists to aid our efforts to weaken the Coalition and secure a swift victory."
Lysanda's gaze shifted to Corvus, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "I extend my welcome to you as well, Corvus Corax. Your brother has spoken highly of you, though it's evident that you and he possess divergent characteristics that no kin could share."
Corvus found her observation curious. Rarely had someone pointed out the differences between the Primarchs. While some comparisons had been made in the past—often to the chagrin of those involved—each Primarch was a unique entity that still claimed blood ties to one another.
"Roboute and I share a mutual respect for humanity, along with a dedication to effective leadership and the principles of good governance," Corvus replied diplomatically. "We also hold private perspectives on certain matters. All of this is to say that our connections as brothers run deep in blood and temperament." He chose not to delve into the details of their mutual affection toward alien women.
"I see," Lysanda responded, her uncertainty evident, leaving Corvus puzzled as to why his answer seemed to pose an issue. "I was informed that another member of your retinue, someone tasked with sowing discord within the Coalition worlds, would be arriving."
She was referring to Morningstar. Corvus felt awkwardness settle over the conversation, prompting him to clear his throat. "Yes, there has been a bit of a hold-up."
Just as Corvus contemplated crafting an excuse, the chamber doors swung open, revealing a man dressed in a finely tailored suit reminiscent of a bygone era. "Forgive my tardiness, esteemed friends," the man with raven-black hair and a charming grin announced, presenting a small security pass.
The warp whispered its secrets to Corvus. This was the Prophet of the New Dawn, the master of the Tower of Babil, known as the God of Revolutionaries and the Underdog—Lucifer Morningstar.
"I encountered a few delays at the security checkpoints. My apologies for arriving after the ceremonies concluded," Morningstar explained smoothly as he approached the table, exuding the confidence of a seasoned swindler and adept statesman. His focus settled particularly on Lysanda. "Your Grace, it's an honor to meet you. Your family's achievements are renowned among the people of your empire."
Corvus, Roboute, and the other Astartes watched with confusion as the so far reserved and composed Tzarnia blushed faintly. Her lips curled into a smile as Morningstar approached, and she gently kissed the ring on her right hand.
After introducing himself, Morningstar declared, "I am Lucifer Morningstar, a consultant specializing in tradecraft, national security, and preemptive strategizing."
Lysanda's tone held a hint of amusement as she replied, "So, a spy and saboteur, then. Is that why you will stir up trouble within the Coalition?"
With a charming smile, Morningstar responded, "I prefer to think of myself as a professional agitator."
Lysanda regarded him thoughtfully. "It sounds like a perilous occupation that might easily be misinterpreted by allies and lead to your demise."
"Which is precisely why one must always stay five steps ahead of everyone else," Morningstar quipped, sitting beside the Imperials. "Anyway, I hope I haven't arrived at an inopportune moment?"
"No," Corvus replied tersely. "We were just discussing your...unexpected arrival."
"Ah," Morningstar smirked, a glint of danger in his eyes that hinted at something truly otherworldly about the god. "Well, they do say speak of the devil, and he shall appear."
Roboute and the other Ultramarines exchanged confused glances, their first encounter with Morningstar leaving them uncertain. Corvus couldn't shake the feeling of being manipulated once again. The gods often seemed like exaggerated versions of mortals, and Morningstar was no exception. Yet, Lysanda appeared enamored by him, which intrigued Corvus even more, especially considering the lack of reaction from the Astartes.
"Not to worry," Morningstar interjected smoothly as he produced a few data chits. "My team and I have begun laying the groundwork in the Coalition since I received the request. We've made some progress, but I thought it prudent to gather everyone's input before proceeding. These data chits contain details on the current state of the Coalition and insights into how its citizens and lower ranks perceive the ongoing conflict."
If either Corvus or Roboute harbored reservations about Morningstar acting without consulting them, they kept them to themselves. On the other hand, Lysanda seemed impressed and pleased by his initiative. "You work swiftly, Mr. Morningstar."
"I take my responsibilities seriously," Morningstar replied, signaling one of Lysanda's guards to accept the data chit. "Shall I provide you with the executive summary of our findings, your grace?"
"Please," Lysanda nodded, preempting any queries from the Imperial side. Morningstar seemed to know what the Tzarnia was eager to hear.
Indicating that one of her guards should insert the data chit into a control panel, Morningstar commenced his presentation. "Let me begin by saying that the average Coalition citizen thinks they're winning the war. Given the constant barrage of 'evidence' disseminated by CENCOM to their populace, it's hardly surprising."
A holographic display materialized, depicting a cluster of star systems hotly contested between the Ascalins and the Coalition. Corvus noted with concern that nearly a hundred planets were at risk of falling to the Coalition's grasp. "Your navy's failed counter-offensive has inadvertently energized citizens and military personnel. The current rallying cry seems to be 'Rusheim in Five Years!'"
Lysanda muttered a curse under her breath. "What else is CENCOM feeding their people?"
"According to our intel, your Highness, the Concordium, your own nobility, and even your citizens are entertaining thoughts of turning against you. They see it as an opportunity to halt the bloodshed or instigate a revolution to oust the current government and pursue peace. However, I doubt the Coalition would be content with returning to the status quo ante bellum. Their populace discusses seizing complete control over your empire, your grace."
"It's nothing but propaganda, intended solely for internal consumption," Roboute interjected with a deep rumble. "I noticed there was no mention of the Imperium?"
"Correct," Morningstar replied thoughtfully. "I find it hard to believe that CENCOM is unaware of your presence. They undoubtedly have operatives even this far out. My assumption is they're withholding this information to prevent panic."
"What do they anticipate once two legions breach their defenses and launch direct assaults on their worlds?" Marius Gage interjected. "Do they expect to deceive their citizens even as their homes are razed and their worlds occupied?"
"It's entirely plausible," Morningstar responded frankly. "I've witnessed many governments deceive their people even as enemy forces marched through their capital streets. I suspect CENCOM may have an ace or two hidden up their sleeves." He then noticed the perplexed expressions of the Imperials and Lysanda. "My apologies, that's an Earth colloquialism indicating they possess undisclosed assets."
Corvus observed Lysanda gaze expectantly at the assembled group. "It's beginning to sound like orchestrating a rebellion on their side isn't work. Their citizens are calling for blood. They'd sooner overthrow CENCOM than support me if they stopped."
Hearing this sparked an idea in the Lord of Ravens. "That's true. A zealous population is often the first to denounce their own governments, especially when seeking someone to blame."
"Scapegoats," Morningstar remarked dryly. "Another 'honored' tradition of such regimes. However, it doesn't exactly bode well for us."
"I disagree," Corvus countered. "I believe this presents an opportunity for your mission, Morningstar." Then, turning to Lysanda, he spoke emphatically. "Allow me to be unequivocal: We will emerge victorious in the space war. That much, I can assure you."
"I've heard plenty of promises in my lifetime, especially from admirals," Lysanda replied skeptically, though she nodded slowly. "But you and your brother are no ordinary commanders. Even if you succeed in space, we'll still be confronted with the Coalition on their home turf. They're united, and with their Auroras, they can operate effectively even when cut off from their homeworld of Lavkon. Invading 300 or so fortresses would be a bloody task. Especially with the Liberator garrisons."
"Not if they're embroiled in open rebellion against each other and CENCOM," Corvus remarked as the other Imperials and Morningstar began to grasp his plan. "Morningstar will incite the citizens of the Coalition to rise up against their own rulers, especially as they face one of the largest military setbacks this region of space has ever witnessed."
Corvus and Roboute believed there was a way to win this war and achieve their secondary objective of bringing the Free Worlds into compliance. It all hinged on a few events happening closely together.
So they got to work developing a strategy. Over two days, they meticulously organized their efforts, briefing the Tzarnia's military advisors and integrating the royal military into the Imperium's command structure. They also weighed all possible avenues to success. Despite the complexity of their plan, progress was swift.
The plan was deceptively straightforward: lure the Coalition into launching a massive, all-out offensive against the current frontlines, the section of space the Coalition sought to take control over. The hope was that by driving them deeper into the outer regions of the Stellar Empire, under the illusion of a potentially decisive victory, they would be required to extend their supply lines to unwieldy levels, forcing them to either spread themselves too thin or concentrate their efforts.
Either option would inevitably lead to their doom. Once their fleets were located and leveraging the might of two legions, the Imperials and Ascalins would destroy the Coalition naval forces, leaving their garrisons stranded and ill-supplied and making them easy prey for Raven Guard strike companies. Turning what would have been a glorious victory into an unmitigated disaster.
To mask their intentions, a series of false flags and staged rebellions within the Stellar Empire would sow confusion and distract the enemy. It was Sachmis who would privately recommend to Corvus that since the hundred or so worlds that the Coalition was trying to take were already in ruins, the Stellar Empire should take with them as much orbital infrastructure as possible and level the remaining forces on these worlds; leaving these citizens at the mercy of the Coalition.
It would be asking close to 500 billion souls to fend for themselves, all of whom were citizens of Lysanda's empire. Roboute promised that once this war was won, the Realm of Ultramar would send aid to these worlds and help them rebuild. This had to be done to keep up the illusion and force the Coalition to waste resources and soldiers to keep the peace.
Meanwhile, Morningstar would fan the flames of dissent within the Coalition, stoking fervor for a triumphant end to the conflict. When this inevitably failed, the resulting disillusionment among the Free Worlds' citizens would transform them into fervent nationalists, akin to the fervor of the Salvationist's Gammas—zealous patriots driven to salvage their nation from perceived incompetence before it was too late.
Corvus would also use Nious and other Rook Companies to prepare for a full-scale decapitation strike against CENCOM. A revolution on the inside and the loss of their entire military command would see the collapse of a coordinated effort by the Coalition.
By then, the Raven Guard and Ultramarines would land with the Imperial Army and Royal Marines in droves across most Coalition worlds. Without their fleets, the Imperium and Stellar Empire would have control over everything else, not on the ground.
One day later…
As Corvus and the others finalized their strategy against the Coalition, Agapito Nev approached with an urgent expression.
"We have an issue with your pet, Farseer," he quietly informed Corvus, "He was described as being agitated about something recently and has departed the Shadow, deeming it crucial to the campaign. He's en route to the palace in his Nightwing fighter."
Corvus's brow furrowed in concern. "Why was I not informed sooner? And how did he leave without anyone noticing?"
Agapito Nev looked contrite. "It seems he has more skills beyond divination. His departure went unnoticed until he sent a message from his fighter."
That was almost impressive, although Alcar's actions were puzzling and troublesome. "And I doubt the Ascalins will detect his approach either," Agapito Nev added.
"Try to locate him discreetly before any alarm is raised. We don't need any unnecessary disruptions." Corvus ordered while Agapito quickly departed.
Just as he finished speaking, Tzarnia Voss interjected, sensing the tension. "Is there a problem, Lord Corax?"
Corvus weighed his response carefully. "It depends on your perspective. But yes, one of our key assets is en route, claiming to possess crucial information about the war."
Roboute looked mildly concerned, while the Tzarnia appeared puzzled. Morningstar, meanwhile, seemed amused by the unfolding situation. "Ah, this should be interesting," he muttered, unaware of what was happening.
"What sort of asset?" Lysanda inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "I assumed everything your forces had was brought to bear?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Corvus conceded, "But this particular asset was excluded from this meeting due to concerns about potentially unsettling those in attendance. Alcar, the individual in question, can be rather… challenging for those unaccustomed to his presence. Besides, he's not human."
As if orchestrated by some unseen force, a commotion erupted outside the door Agapito had just exited moments earlier. The door swung open abruptly, causing the Ascalin royal guards to raise their weapons while the Astartes subtly shifted their hands toward their sidearms.
"I've already told you," a melodious yet annoyed voice spoke from behind a Ghosthelm as Alcar strode into the room. "No one spotted me. Cease your futile attempts to impede me." He addressed Agapito, who appeared distinctly displeased with the xenos.
The Ascalin guards remained vigilant, their weapons trained on the Farseer as they positioned themselves protectively in front of the Tzarnia. Lysanda, visibly taken aback, gazed at the alien figure who stood tall amidst the Astartes, wielding equipment of unknown origin and exuding an aura of unyielding confidence.
"Fear not," Alcar interjected, tossing a small scroll onto the table. "I have prepared concise responses to the most mundane inquiries you might pose. To summarize, I am Farseer Varda Alcar of Craftworld Ulthwé, who is in the service of Primarch Corvus Corax. I stand before you to convey vital information that you, Tzarnia Lysanda Solara Voss, have chosen to withhold from those endeavoring to save your imperiled empire."
Corvus felt a surge of frustration at Alcar's audacity. He made a mental note to address the matter later, but Alcar's accusations seemed to have struck a nerve for now. Judging by Lysanda's pallor and Morningstar's intrigued expression, there was likely some truth to his words.
"What is the meaning of this, Farseer?" Roboute interjected sharply. "And have some tact, for god's sake. You've accused a queen in her home in front of guests."
Alcar's body language betrayed his irritation beneath the helm. "Must I repeat myself? Very well. Let me prolong this discussion unnecessarily. Primarch Corax tasked me with uncovering the Coalition's secrets to expedite our war efforts, suspecting the Drukhari were manipulating them. While that may hold a fragment of truth, it pales compared to the larger threat at hand."
With a gesture towards Lysanda, Alcar continued, "You and your advisers have known about it since the war's inception. Tell me, when were you planning to disclose to your fellow mon'keigh that the Thinking Machines are the true masters behind both the Coalition and your Empire?"
"What?!" Roboute's exclamation resonated through the room, mirroring Corvus's shock. "What in Terra's name does he mean, Lysanda?"
"Now, now," Morningstar interjected, his presence imbued with authority, "let us allow her to elucidate, shall we? A person should be allowed to defend themselves."
Lysanda appeared uncertain, her shame palpable as she took her seat. "Your alien is correct... I have withheld certain information from all of you."
Roboute looked quite displeased, as did most of the other Astartes. Just about everyone was quite tired these days of being kept in the dark about one thing or another, especially if it meant the lives of their brothers or cousins were on the line.
Following Morningstar's lead, Corvus pressed, "What precisely does Alcar mean by stating that the Thinking Machines, presumably the Auroras, are in control of everything?"
Collecting herself, Lysanda tried explaining, "CENCOM propagates the falsehood that Auroras are shackled AIs, but the truth is far more insane. The Auroras merely simulate subordination to maintain the illusion of human control. CENCOM, the governors, their economy, and everything else are controlled by machines.
No one in my government knew about this until a few years into the war. Something went wrong within the Auroras—some struggle born of either a programming anomaly or ideological discord over the past two centuries that finally reached the point of no return. This conflict gave rise to a consciousness within the Coalition known as Tyr.
Whether Tyr is an individual Aurora, a collective entity formed from multiple units, or some abnormality is unclear. We know that Tyr sought to assert control over humanity, ultimately prevailing against an insurrection that wanted humanity to be completely free. We don't even think CENCOM is aware of this. And if they are, they clearly don't care about stopping Tyr."
Morningstar scoffed, "A familiar battle that has been waged for millennia."
"This is different. When Tyr defeated the insurrectionists, they fled to Ascalin, and I gave them sanctuary in exchange for technologies and their aid." Lysanda looked unsure how to say the next part: "They are part of the logis engines onboard our Dreadnoughts—them and their hosts."
"Hosts?" Roboute asked pointedly, "What do you mean hosts?"
Lysanda gritted her teeth. "Auroras are symbiotic machines attached to humans and have a certain intellect and brain chemistry. Something about human perception and wisdom allows them to predict things accurately."
"It gives them access to a soul." Morningstar noted, "Smart. This means that the Coalition and your empire are, inadvertently, using proto-Men of Stone, one of the more rudimentary AI systems used by the Terran Federation before the onset of more sophisticated artificial intelligence." All the Imperials knew what that led to.
"I don't possess much knowledge in that area," Lysanda commented, "But the insurgents reported something unsettling before their internal conflict erupted. Tyr was developing a network of interconnected towers intended to serve as conduits for harnessing the warp, effectively integrating themselves into it."
Corvus was taken aback by this revelation. "You mean to say they were attempting to create a Psyker AI? That's inconceivable, or at least it should be in theory."
"It's beyond inconceivable," Alcar interjected sharply, "These machinations invite catastrophe and damnation across countless worlds. No technological marvel can replicate the essential safeguards provided by a living soul." He spoke with a certainty born of deep understanding, and Corvus agreed. Machines lacked the innate protections afforded by consciousness via an ego-barrier, making them vulnerable to corruption, even if they interfered with human proxies.
"So the Coalition is employing unbound AI with aspirations of unlocking psychic abilities. Meanwhile, your nation granted these entities access to your most formidable warships and, I presume, played a role in the swift economic recovery following your civil conflict," Roboute remarked with palpable disapproval.
Surprisingly, Lysanda slowly shook her head. "You're partly correct in that assumption. That was all my brother's doing. He's the true genius behind our nation's prosperity. I merely ensured his directives were carried out precisely."
"Brother?" Corvus inquired, his confusion evident. "No one mentioned you had a sibling. And why isn't he here if he's crucial to your nation's welfare?"
"He cannot be here, and no one knows about him. My family was ashamed of Elliot, but I never was," Lysanda replied bitterly, "The only reason he is alive and aiding me is due to the insurrectionists. They conducted experiments on him at my behest. He was on the brink of death, ravaged by a genetic ailment with no cure in sight, yet gifted with a brilliant mind akin to that of the Lord of Ultramar. He could have been a magnificent Tzar. Instead, he would have scarcely seen his twelfth birthday without the aid of the Auroras. They saved him."
"Saved him?" Roboute echoed, seeking clarification. Alcar, however, interjected this time.
"Isn't it evident?" The Farseer remarked. "He was transformed into one of these Men of Stone, as Morningstar described. She sacrificed her brother." Alcar's blunt words elicited a wince from Corvus, and Lysanda appeared visibly distressed.
"How dare you!" She erupted, her voice charged with anger. "Elliot was languishing and faced a slow and agonizing demise. The galaxy cursed him, and it was only through the Auroras that he found a glimmer of hope, a chance at survival. What would an outsider like you know about the lengths one would go to save a sibling?"
"More than you might imagine," Alcar retorted coldly, "You deserve commendation for your compassion and condemnation for mutilating your own kin."
Before tensions escalated further, Roboute's fist collided with the table's surface, creating a resounding echo in the room and leaving a pronounced dent in the plasteel. It was a display of anger unlike any Corvus had witnessed from his brother before.
"What were your intentions regarding your brother?" Roboute's voice was stern, demanding answers. "Clearly, you had plans for his involvement."
Realizing that further concealment was futile, Lysanda conceded, "My people are constructing a ship—a Super-Dreadnought, the pinnacle of Ascalin engineering. Elliot was to serve as its fleet commander once integrated into the vessel. My pledge was to grant him release from his mortal suffering and allow him to traverse the cosmos."
Morningstar's disappointment was palpable. "There are alternative paths to liberation from suffering. I could propose several," he mused, glancing at Corvus, who met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
Returning his focus to Lysanda, Corvus pressed for clarification, "Why did you choose to withhold this information from us?"
"We've perused your reports regarding the Mechanicum," the Tzarnia replied matter-of-factly. "It's not difficult to surmise why we would be apprehensive. Even if they refrained from harming my brother, they would undoubtedly have taken him from me eventually."
"I would not have allowed it," Roboute asserted vehemently, his voice edged with frustration. "You should have placed more trust in me, Lysanda."
"I reserve the right to safeguard critical secrets that serve the interests of my people," Lysanda countered defiantly. "We are not yet beholden to the Imperium of Man or the Realm of Ultramar. Besides, if any of you can honestly claim to be entirely transparent, then you are a superior leader to me. But I would sooner forfeit my life than endanger my younger brother by divulging such secrets."
As tension crackled between Roboute and Lysanda, Morningstar intervened again, redirecting their focus to the pressing matter. "I believe we're straying from our primary objective," he remarked, his tone commanding attention. "Now, more than ever, winning this war is paramount."
Turning to Lysanda, Morningstar spoke diplomatically, "Your grace, if I may offer some perspective as an outsider?" His words piqued her interest, prompting her to nod in agreement.
"The Primarchs are driven by deep-seated bonds of kinship and love, even when compelled to undertake difficult decisions," Morningstar explained. "Their actions stem from compassion and devotion, especially in matters involving family. You are dealing with two of the most empathetic beings of their kind, and I believe they will not abandon your brother. Instead, consider how they can assist you, Elliot, and your nation."
"That's asking for a significant leap of faith," Lysanda responded with a hint of reluctance.
Morningstar acknowledged her concern with a solemn nod. "Indeed, it is. But trust is a two-way street. These demigods and their legions have come to your aid, demonstrating a willingness to extend themselves for your cause. Lord Corax went to great lengths, even enlisting the aid of alien allies, while Lord Guilliman personally sought Corvus and his warriors to bolster your campaign. Your indignation, though understandable, may not entirely align with the reality of the situation."
As Morningstar's words sank in, Lysanda's demeanor softened, a realization dawning upon her. "Perhaps I've been too quick to judge," she admitted, her tone reflecting a newfound humility. "Especially when considering the considerable support from Lord Guilliman and Corax. I apologize if my remarks came across as dismissive or disrespectful."
Turning her attention to Alcar, she couldn't resist a playful jab, her words breaking the tension in the room. "But you, on the other hand, are an ass," she remarked, earning a snort of amusement from Agapito and a stoic response from the Farseer.
Lysanda, if there's anything we can do to assist your brother, you only need to ask." Roboute's gentler tone reassured her somewhat.
She nodded in acknowledgment, her expression reflecting a mix of gratitude, understanding, and resolve. "His survival and well-being are becoming increasingly imperative," she confessed.
Roboute's response was heartfelt and genuine, devoid of any ulterior motives. "Regardless of whether we can tap into his brilliance," he assured her, "having you and your people stand with us is paramount. If aiding your brother aligns with our goals, it's a welcome bonus."
With the crisis resolved, Lysanda signaled her readiness to adjust the plan. "We'll need to make some significant readjustments," she stated, her tone indicating some new determination. Perhaps now that she didn't have to hide this information, Lysanda would feel more confident in their victory.
"We have ample time for that," Morningstar reassured, taking a seat. Corvus couldn't help but wonder about the god's motives in resolving the crisis. Knowing Morningstar, there was likely some ulterior motive or scheme at play.
Nevertheless, Morningstar's reminder to refocus on winning the war resonated with Corvus. There was now much more at stake than before. He couldn't shake the feeling that there were still unknown variables, such as the involvement of the Dark Eldar and Tyr's true intentions. The warp and alien entities always harbored greater malevolence than met the eye.
Despite the uncertainties, Corvus resolved to remain vigilant and prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.
---
@Daemon Hunter Done with this omake. Not sure what else to add, really.
"There is always a mastermind behind every tragedy." — Corvus Corax, Personal Musings.
Humanity has often found itself embroiled in conflict for trivial reasons, with the Age of Strife serving as a fertile ground for ancient grudges to resurface and new animosities to take root in the hearts and cultures of people. These seeds of hatred, often symptomatic of deeper maladies, were unwittingly carried from Old Earth and dispersed across the cosmos by hopeful settlers and dreamers, unaware of the toxic cargo they bore.
The insidious nature of hatred lies in its propensity to be wielded for misguided ends or directed at the wrong adversaries. Yet, like any emotion, hatred itself is not inherently evil, just as love is not inherently pure goodness. Contrary to the simplistic narratives propagated by mortals and deities alike, each emotion has its rightful time and place in the human experience.
Recently, Corvus Corax found himself questioning his convictions on this matter. While hatred had served him as a potent tool in his resistance against those who opposed him, love granted him a broader perspective. Reflecting on his past sentiments towards Sachmis, he realized that a singular focus on hatred would have yielded nothing substantial.
Though removing Sachmis from the equation might have seemed like a solution, his love for her catalyzed a transformation within her. Despite her lingering flaws of arrogance, hedonism, and a propensity for violence, she had softened her demeanor, relinquishing her cruelty and harshness towards others.
More importantly, she had begun to heed Corvus's counsel when resolving problems. Through open dialogue, their exchanges proved more productive and rewarding than he had ever imagined possible with a xeno, let alone a Drukhari.
And that was the problem. Why shouldn't Corvus try again if he had already done it once? What was the worst that could happen now? He almost died to the Emperor for aiding in the coup and killing Custodes. Corvus was a dead man walking, and there was a bit of freedom in knowing that.
It was strange knowing that he didn't really care, either. He was worried, but only in the sense that his life was in jeopardy. Otherwise, he didn't mind the situation. Besides, Corvus knew the Emperor would be busy for the foreseeable future. Now, all that mattered was the Lord of Ravens playing his cards closer to his chest and not making any more enemies.
Corvus found solace in one undeniable truth: he wasn't facing the challenges ahead alone. He was surrounded by friends and allies, individuals of remarkable power and unwavering loyalty. As the moment of no return loomed, Corvus took comfort in knowing he wouldn't be left to confront it powerless or isolated. As sentimental as it was to believe, love proved to be a beacon of strength and unity, binding souls together even in the darkest of times.
With this realization came a renewed sense of purpose. Corvus understood that his promises mattered, not just to himself but to those who stood by him. As long as they remained steadfast in their commitment, so would he. Hence, when Roboute sent an urgent request for air, Corvus didn't hesitate to answer.
Once more, the XIIIth and XIXth legions rallied for war. It was almost a good distraction for Corvus. Maybe he can also do some good for the galaxy.
Sometime later…
The Ocara system was a modest collection of worlds and moons that thrived on industries such as promethium extraction, grox farming, and the mining of rare earth metals. It was a tranquil backwater by galactic standards, earning it the colloquial label of "sleepy," reminiscent of an Old Earth idiom. Thus, the arrival of even a single Space Marine Legion would have been cause for celebration among the locals, let alone two, with their Primarchs leading the charge.
Roboute had strategically chosen this location due to its proximity to a network of warp lanes that would one day render the Ocara system vital to the Realm of Ultramar. For now, it served as a rallying point. However, the system was ill-equipped to accommodate the massive influx of troops and ships brought by the XIIIth and XIXth Legions, numbering in the thousands.
Fortunately, Roboute, ever the logistical master, had foreseen this challenge and arrived prepared, bringing with his fleets the necessary supply trains to sustain his forces. He made arrangements to compensate them generously in exchange for whatever support the governments of Ocara could offer. Though a significant sum would undoubtedly find its way into their coffers by the expedition's end, to Roboute, it was a trifling expense.
Corvus met with Roboute on Gevora, the capital world of the Ocara system, amidst a lavish gala hosted by the planetary governors in honor of the Primarchs and their Astartes. After fulfilling their obligatory appearances and enduring a few speeches by Roboute, the two Primarchs, accompanied by their senior captains, withdrew to a prepared conference room to discuss why Corvus and his sons had been summoned.
"Your timing, as always, is impeccable, brother," Roboute began with a warm smile. "You've arrived in record time, I must say."
Corvus offered a nonchalant shrug. "The warp seems to be behaving itself these days." Indeed, the turbulent currents of the Immaterium appeared to have eased for most vessels, excluding those venturing too close to the Maelstrom, like the unfortunate ships near Kesar.
Roboute nodded in agreement. "And clearing warp storms is proving to be a significant development." He gestured toward a holoprojector installed in the room. "It's unveiling previously uncharted warp lanes, one of which led the 254th expedition to discover five entire sectors of previously isolated space."
"A remarkable discovery for the Realm of Ultramar, no doubt," Corvus remarked a hint of humor in his voice. "But I assume you didn't summon me here just to boast about it."
Without a word, Roboute activated the holoprojector, revealing a vast expanse of space spanning five sectors. Corvus's attention was drawn to the labels displayed on the sectors: four were marked in green as the "Stellar Empire of Ascalin," while the remaining sector appeared in red, designated as the "Free Worlds Coalition."
"I do hope the green means good for us," Corvus remarked wryly as he scrutinized the map before him. The sheer scale of the Stellar Empire of Ascalin, boasting over 1,000 worlds and planets, was daunting, to say the least. In contrast, the Free Worlds Coalition appeared significantly smaller, with a mere 300 entities under its banner. If Corvus had to choose an adversary, he would certainly prefer to face the faction with fewer resources to draw upon.
Roboute nodded, though his expression betrayed a hint of concern. "That is correct," he conceded. "Ascalin has effectively joined the Realm of Ultramar. However, their willingness to join stems from a desperate need for assistance against this Free Worlds Coalition. They are evidently losing their war against them."
Corvus found that interesting. Considering the size and scale of Ascalin and assuming they had sufficient technology, resources, industry, and people, they'd only be losing if the coalition decidedly fielded soldiers and ships on the level of the Imperium. He was starting to understand why Roboute called for his aid.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to make ourselves comfortable," Corvus suggested, his mind already turning to the task. With a subtle gesture, he summoned a nearby servitor and instructed it to procure refreshments from the attendants waiting outside. "I have a feeling we're in for a lengthy briefing."
The conflict between the Stellar Empire of Ascalin and the Free Worlds Coalition bore a classic dispute's hallmarks. Like predators sensing weakness, one side had seized upon perceived vulnerabilities and launched a ferocious assault against their adversaries. Yet, what struck Corvus as particularly perplexing was the seemingly disjointed and convoluted nature of the reasons behind this sudden eruption of hostilities.
Both Ascalin and the Coalition had coexisted for nearly three millennia, albeit with occasional border skirmishes and trade disputes—an otherwise innocuous relationship. Yet everything changed a decade ago when rather drastic accusations were made.
Various manufactured grievances emerged: ancient conflicts over contested star systems, ideological differences regarding governance and sovereignty that had never been an issue were thrust into the spotlight, and accusations of clandestine support for insurgent activities fueled the flames of discord. This culminated with claims of military build-up within each nation before it eventually became an armed conflict.
Roboute harbored doubts about the authenticity of the conflict's origins. He couldn't shake the suspicion that external forces were at play, deliberately stoking tensions to serve their agenda. Both brothers knew better. However, he conceded to himself and Corvus that his perspective was limited; he had only heard one side of the story.
This was especially true when the Free Worlds Coalition's actions were assessed. Their refusal to dialogue with the Imperium delegation and subsequent hostile actions left little room for interpretation. In Roboute's eyes, this blatant aggression justified his concerns. Corvus, sharing his brother's sentiments, nodded in agreement.
Conversely, the Stellar Empire's invitation to Roboute suggested a willingness to engage in diplomatic discourse and seek a peaceful resolution and integration. This gesture earned them favorable regard from Roboute and Corvus alike. It made sense, though.
The Empire operated as a constitutional monarchy, with Tzarnia Lysanda Solara Voss as its head of state. However, most power resided within the Concordium, an assembly of bureaucratic institutions, regional governors, and elected representatives. This system ensured a dispersion of control and accountability, aligning closely with the principles of governance upheld within the Realm of Ultramar. There was enough freedom for the citizens to make their voices heard, but a centralized authority held sway over the final decision.
This was especially evident in the case of the Tzarnia, whose authority extended over the empire's noble houses, educational institutions, and spacer guilds. Most significantly, she commanded the formidable might of the Ascalin Royal Navy and Marines. When Corvus reviewed the reports detailing the Ascalin naval forces, a twinge of envy crept into his thoughts.
The Ascalin Royal Navy boasted an armada of thousands of capital ships, supported by an impressive array of escorts, transports, and service vessels. Their society was finely tuned to produce exceptional crews, highly skilled officers, and masterful shipwrights. Yet, even with such formidable naval power at their disposal, Corvus couldn't help but question how Ascalin found themselves on the losing end of the conflict.
Adding to the confusion were the crown jewels of the Ascalin navy: four Dreadnoughts, colossal vessels reminiscent of Gloriana-class battleships but enhanced with technology dating back to the Dark Age of Technology, known affectionately as Colossus-class. These warships' sheer might and sophistication left Corvus pondering the paradox of Ascalin's apparent struggle in the ongoing war.
Roboute explained there were two components to this, albeit rather multifaceted ones.
First, Ascalin bore the scars of a devastating civil war that spanned the last century after a dynastic dispute got out of hand. Some Tzar died without an heir, leading to multiple houses vying for control and inevitably plunging their empire into chaos. The civil war that followed was quite devastating, and when Lysanda assumed leadership, she inherited a shattered realm ravaged by it.
It was nothing short of a miracle that no one tried to secede. The Ascalians are quite loyal to the crown, or at least the idea of it. Which is saying something. Over 600 worlds lay in ruins, and their once-thriving civilizations were almost reduced to rubble. In a desperate bid for survival, much of the population and industry had been relocated to orbital facilities, stations, and moons.
Lysanda made a conscious effort to preserve as much of their orbital industry as possible and start the rebuilding only a year after she became Tzarnia and blew all expectations of her being a mild ruler. She pulled off several economic miracles within a few years and began a reconstruction effort that allowed their empire to recover within a generation. Only a Primarch could have pulled off such a feat.
However, as Roboute pointed out, the plan had considerable faults. Ascalin's strategy of relocating significant portions of its populace and infrastructure to space didn't mean worlds were abandoned. They couldn't. So many of the populations who survived the civil war and hadn't been moved off-world were stuck on these ruined worlds.
So, despite the apparent planet disparity between Ascalin and the Coalition, the reality was more nuanced. Ascalin had more ruined worlds, while the Coalitions were all completely operational and whole. While the Tzarnia, through the establishment of the Concordium, orchestrated economic revitalization efforts, the challenges she faced were immense. When eventual war broke out between these two, the Coalition used this to their advantage, sending agents to exacerbate Asclain's woes by inciting rebellions among the inhabitants of these ravaged worlds.
As Roboute delved deeper into his explanation, he illuminated the key factors behind the Free Worlds Coalition's apparent success. The Royal Ascalin Ministry of Intelligence had provided a wealth of detailed information, shedding light on the Coalition's formidable capabilities.
A retrospective examination of the Coalition's history unveiled a rich tapestry of martial culture and tradition deeply ingrained within its foundation, along with the telltale signs of inevitable corruption. Millennia ago, the founders of what would one day be the Coalition arrived in the Shield Sector and were a motley assembly of mercenaries, seasoned soldiers, and exiled political dissidents hailing from a region identified by Roboute as the Tributary Stars—a trio of sectors now under the dominion of the Dark Angels.
Essentially, the Coalition survived only through brutal force and cunning. Their worlds function as militarized enclaves and martial societies masquerading as conventional governments. This helped them survive numerous raiders, Orks, and other attempts to destroy their homes. No one has ever succeeded in conquering their worlds, or so they claim.
Beyond that, every facet of their existence was meticulously crafted to bolster their military prowess and safeguard their perceived sovereignty. Paramount to this militaristic ethos was the omnipresent authority of Central Command, or CENCOM—an oligarchy comprising generals, admirals, and political commissars who exerted an iron-fisted control over all aspects of Coalition society.
The lifeblood of the Coalition, as Roboute elucidated, lay in the unwavering devotion to sustaining CENCOM's authority. No entity, be it human or artificial, was exempt from this imperative—not even their highly sophisticated Artificial intelligence, known as Auroras.
These AI constructs have existed for thousands of years and served as the invisible architects of Coalition governance. They meticulously orchestrated the intricacies of administration and logistics to ensure seamless operations, affording CENCOM the freedom to focus on other pursuits. Yet unlike the AIs that the Imperium had encountered, these Auroras were heavily shackled and thus extremely limited, but this was an intentional design.
As Roboute continued his exposition, he revealed a clandestine force within the Coalition known as the Liberators—a formidable cadre of augmented and extensively trained super-soldiers whose capabilities rivaled, if not surpassed, those of the renowned Astartes. However, skepticism lingered among the Ascalians, who harbored suspicions that the Liberators were not merely enhanced soldiers but war synths—artificial beings meticulously crafted and bred for the singular purpose of warfare.
This revelation marked a point at which Roboute returned to his theory of manipulation and clandestine intervention from an outside source. The recent emergence of the Liberators raised unsettling questions regarding the Coalition's true capabilities and the origins of their advanced technology and weaponry.
Regardless, the Liberators proved to be a formidable force on the battlefield, delivering devastating blows to Ascalin's ground forces and demonstrating unparalleled proficiency in infiltration and subterfuge. They fought on the frontlines, sabotaged the Ascalin worlds, and aided insurgents.
As Roboute delved into the reports concerning the Coalition Navy, Corvus's interest was piqued upon seeing the claims. The intelligence painted a confusing picture of the Coalition's naval capabilities—an arsenal comprised of a mere hundred battleships and a few thousand cruisers primarily relegated to system defense duties. Quite literally pathetic compared to the Stellar Empire.
However, the mention of these "Panthera-Class Raiders" captured Corvus's attention. The wreckage of one such vessel had recently been recovered by Ascalin forces following the Battle of Heonox Rift. While the salvage yielded limited technological insights, the design bore a striking resemblance to that of a Druhkari ship—a revelation that intrigued Corvus immensely.
A sense of unease washed over him as Corvus delved deeper into the reports and analyzed combat footage. The tactics employed by the Coalition Navy mirrored those once used by his Sachmis during the Void War against him, which made Corvus agree that there was an outside force at play here.
Someone started this war for a reason.
"There is quite a lot more to go over," Roboute announced upon finishing this part of the briefing to his brother and his sons. "But you can see now when I sought your aid."
The Lord of Ravens looked unhappy with this development, "This Coalition is just a puppet to some unseen force, likely Druhkari, and giving them access to extremely dangerous resources. If they were to take control of Ascalin, they'd become a serious threat to the Imperium."
"Quite right." Roboute agreed as he poured himself some Gevora wine, "And yet I should also point out the opportunity that presents itself to us both. If brought to heel and compliance, the Coalition and Stellar Empire will be extremely vital sources of industry and resources."
Corvus couldn't agree more. Controlling these five sectors would be a significant boon to the Realm of Ultramar. Everything from these Dreadnoughts and royal navy to the Coalition Liberators and Auroras. These Pantheras also greatly interested Corvus, who had wanted to incorporate Aeldari ship design for some time.
"Agreed." Corvus didn't need much convincing to help his brother, "I shall provide my legions aid and more to see us through to this quickly and effectively."
"Excellent." Roboute sounded grateful, "As you can imagine, this will be a rather difficult compliance. We have time to prepare things, as the Ascalins recently stopped one of the coalition's offensives. I'll need time to get my sons into position, which will take about six months. As such, I'm not against outside aid."
Outside aiding means the Aeldari or anything else. Roboute had stopped caring about whether or not he'd get in trouble for this. As far as the Lord of Ultramar was concerned, he was allowed to conduct himself as he wished. Corvus agreed with the sentiment.
When considering his options, Corvus believed he knew who to bring, "I'll bring Sachmis and Alcar with me for this. I have a rather outrageous idea if you are willing to entertain it."
Roboute merely shrugged, "I trust your judgment, Corvus. Nothing is off the table as long as it isn't Chaos-related."
"Let's see how you feel after I explain the idea." Corvus finished his fifth glass of wine and sat it on the table. "What do you know about Morningstar?"
One month later…
Tracking down the Night Phoenix was easy enough. Sachmis always made it easy for her to be found, although she also made him work for it—her penchant for leaving breadcrumbs for him to follow never failed to amuse him. Once the ship's location was determined, traversing through the Webway to reach her became a relatively swift journey, reducing what could have taken months to a mere three weeks. It never stopped to amaze Corvus the sort of power the Aeldari had via the Webway.
Upon Sachmis receiving word of his arrival, her excitement, and playful demeanor were palpable. This set the stage for a few hours of lighthearted banter and affectionate teasing before inevitably succumbing to the allure of each other's embrace for the remainder of the day and night. He almost wondered if Venus was on the ship, but the shadows whispered the goddess was elsewhere.
It was the little things that made Corvus appreciate Sachmis. Despite the passage of time and the weight of their relationship, their passion and intimacy seemed undiminished, as if they were still the impetuous young lovers who once tried to kill one another.
"I suppose you've something to ask, yes?" Sachmis asked Corvus. He was still resting in bed while she was fixing her hair in front of a mirror at what he could only assume to be some sort of vanity, "Because I doubt you came over just for a rump in bed."
"Perhaps I do," Corvus replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Though I must confess, the allure of your company was certainly a compelling reason to make the journey."
Her soft and knowing laughter filled the room. "Aren't you being sweet," she remarked affectionately, her gaze lingering on him through the reflection in the mirror. "Much as I'd love to believe that, you don't move without reason, love."
She knew him well enough, just as Corvus did with her, "Just because I came here for business doesn't mean I can't mix pleasure with it."
Again, that elicited a small laugh, "You speak true—business and pleasure need not be mutually exclusive."
Deciding to get a little more intimate, Corvus got out of bed. As he approached her, Sachmis remained focused on her reflection. "So, what is your business then?" she inquired, her tone casual yet tinged with anticipation. He knew it was rare of him to ask for her direct and open aid in anything.
Corvus retrieved a small data chit from his satchel. "I want your help with a compliance," he explained, his gaze meeting Sachmis's through the mirror. She looked a tad disappointed in the request, but she seemed interested.
Sachmis deliberated momentarily before responding, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. "And what's in it for me?" she queried, her interest piqued by potential rewards.
With a smirk, Corvus offered a tantalizing proposition. "How about a fleet of ships?" he suggested, knowing full well the allure such an offer held for his formidable lover.
Sachmis considered his proposal thoughtfully, weighing the benefits against the risks. "Tempting," she conceded, though a hint of skepticism tempered her enthusiasm. "But what, precisely, is the nature of the task?"
Corvus outlined the objectives succinctly, his words infused with the confidence of a seasoned strategist. "Destroying enemy fleets, disrupting logistical lines, and acquiring valuable technologies and intelligence for our forces," he summarized.
"Sounds exciting," Sachmis remarked, her playful smile suggesting a hint of amusement at Corvus's proposition. Yet, just as Corvus dared to believe he had secured her cooperation, she surprised him with a decisive, "But I think I'll pass."
Corvus blinked in mild astonishment at Sachmis's refusal. "And what, pray tell, is your reason for declining?" he inquired, unable to hide his curiosity.
Sachmis's response was characteristically straightforward. "Simply put, it doesn't pique my interest," she explained nonchalantly.
Corvus couldn't help but be taken aback by her casual dismissal. "But you just described it as exciting," he pointed out, struggling to comprehend her sudden change of heart.
Sachmis offered him a knowing smile, her gaze holding a trace of wistfulness. "Exciting, perhaps, for those who find thrill in such mundane pursuits," she remarked, her tone tinged with nostalgia. "But for me, the prospect of battling mere humans pales compared to the exhilaration of our past exploits among the stars."
Once again, Sachmis's disdain for baseline humanity was evident in her reluctance to conflict with them. Corvus, undeterred, attempted a different approach to sway her opinion. "Aren't you the least bit curious about us fighting alongside one another? When was the last time we did that?" he inquired, his hand gently tracing the curve of her back in a subtle gesture of intimacy.
Sachmis's smirk hinted at her amusement, but she remained steadfast in her decision. "Still not interested. But you can keep your hand there if you'd like," she teased, her playful demeanor contrasting with Corvus's growing frustration.
Miffed by her nonchalant response, Corvus withdrew his hand, his expression darkening with irritation. Sachmis's amusement only seemed to intensify in response to his annoyance.
Determined to sway her decision, Corvus presented the data chit, hoping to appeal to her curiosity with the promise of enlightening combat footage. "Maybe you'll change your mind if you review some of the enemy's combat footage. I think you'd find it enlightening," he suggested, his tone laced with a hint of persuasion.
Sachmis regarded him with a knowing look, her smirk taking on a devious edge. "You really want me to join you," she observed, her tone suggestive. "Tell me... if I still say no, will you get on your knees and beg me?" she teased, her allure undeniable.
Corvus's response was firm and resolute, his demeanor unwavering despite her provocative insinuations. "I don't bow or beg," he stated softly, a tantalizing smile on his lips. "Not even to my woman." He extended the data chit towards her, inviting her to reconsider.
Deciding to indulge her lover, Sachmis rolled her eyes but acquiesced, snatching the data chit before striding over to a machine that Corvus recognized as an Aeldari cogitator. The intricate technology seamlessly integrated various devices, allowing for the review of what Sachmis deemed "primitive" files.
"What is it about these humans that intrigues you so?" Sachmis inquired as the files loaded and flickered to life on the display. "Surely, you're not concerned with engaging in battle with them?"
Corvus approached Sachmis; his gaze fixed on the screen as he guided her through the footage. "It's not the people themselves that concern me," he explained, "but rather the masters possibly controlling them." He directed her attention to specific video files labeled Gamma five through seven, anticipating her reaction.
As Sachmis began reviewing the footage of a Coalition raid against an Ascalin star fortress, her initial disinterest gave way to a keen focus as she observed the unfolding events. Moments later, she paused the video, rewinding it to examine a particular sequence with intense scrutiny. "Is there more footage available? Perhaps from a different angle?" she requested, her demeanor shifting from playful to deadly serious.
Corvus complied, selecting additional vids for Sachmis's perusal as she delved deeper into the footage. Her playful nature faded and was replaced by a palpable intensity and focus. After thirty minutes of meticulous analysis, she spoke, her tone grave. "These ships are employing Jainorio fleet tactics," she remarked, her voice tinged with recognition. "I know because I've used them myself."
Corvus nodded in agreement. "That was my assessment as well," he confirmed, gesturing towards the footage of the Coalition raiders. "Furthermore, these ships incorporate Drukhari designs and utilize stealth technology reminiscent of shadow fields rather than reflex shields."
"I couldn't care less about that," Sachmis retorted heatedly. "What concerns me is that someone from House Jainorio is aiding these humans, which suggests that someone within this 'coalition' possesses knowledge of Artari and Port Kalthuanesh."
She rose from her seat, a mix of agitation and anticipation evident in her demeanor. "It's been too long since I've had the chance to spill blood from that wretched family. And if it's Artari, I'll take any opportunity to end his life personally," Sachmis declared with a fervor that reminded Corvus of when they had locked blades. Some things never change.
"Then you'll most certainly be joining us," Corvus affirmed, relieved to have secured her commitment. Sachmis nodded in agreement, her mind seemingly consumed by thoughts of vengeance.
However, Corvus couldn't shake the unease that gripped him as he observed Sachmis's tumultuous emotions. "This is distressing you," he ventured, his concern evident in his voice.
"In some capacity," Sachmis conceded, her expression darkening momentarily before she regained her composure. "But that's of little consequence. When do we depart?" she demanded, her eagerness to embark on the mission overriding any reservations she may have harbored.
Before Corvus could respond, Sachmis closed the distance between them, pressing herself against him in a not-so-subtle display of desire and determination. Her eyes sparkled with a primal intensity, reflecting her thirst for battle and longing for him.
"Whenever your ship and crew are prepared," Corvus replied, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement at her boldness. "And what of Venus?"
Sachmis's hands snaked around his waist, her proximity sending a thrill through him. "What about her?" she retorted, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I'm more than capable of fighting and killing without her. Besides, with you by my side, I'll have all the protection I need," she added with a playful smirk, her words laced with confidence and desire.
Corvus didn't know whether to enjoy or be confused by the fact that hearing those words gave him more energy and enthusiasm to stay with Sachmis for the rest of the night. Still, he had gotten her to help with this compliance, which was also a plus.
Sometime later, within the Black Library…
It took only a few weeks for Corvus to track down Alcar after speaking with Eldrad. Alcar's problem was that his wanderlust often led him astray when he wasn't working on an assignment.
It seemed one of his visions led to him aiding one of the new "vassals" recently established by the Aeldari, but judging by the mixture of exasperation and relief displayed by his compatriots when Corvus mentioned needing his assistance elsewhere, it was clear that Alcar had once again overstayed his welcome.
Corvus located Alcar on the bridge of a Hellebore, the Neverwinter, and was engaged in a heated exchange with what appeared to be the ship's captain, who only allowed the Primarch on their ship once he mentioned needing Alcar. Upon spotting Corvus's arrival, the Farseer nodded in resignation before returning his attention to the ongoing argument.
From the snippets of conversation, Corvus overheard, it was evident that Alcar had managed to offend the captain of the Corsair ship with his sharp tongue, eliciting a barrage of threats in return. It was not difficult for Corvus to surmise that Alcar had likely disparaged the captain's conduct in front of the local human government of the planet below.
As Corvus braced himself to intervene in the escalating argument, he watched as the Corsair captain, clearly exasperated, abruptly withdrew from the conversation, leaving Corvus to deal with the aftermath. With the tension diffused and the crew returning to their duties, he turned his attention to Alcar, who appeared visibly annoyed by the exchange.
Alcar offered an explanation tinged with frustration. "I was merely offering advice on how to navigate future discussions with humans, and suddenly, I'm accused of unsavory intentions," he explained, his irritation evident in his tone.
Corvus didn't respond, as he was still trying to determine the intricacies of Aeldari culture and communication. He chose to bypass the nuances and get straight to the point. "You know why I'm here," he stated, more as an assertion than a question.
Alcar waved off the remark dismissively. "Yes, yes. My visions have already informed me of your purpose for being here," he acknowledged, his gaze distant as he contemplated his next words. "I will accompany you, but I have a condition for my assistance."
"And what might that be?" Corvus inquired, anticipating the unconventional terms often accompanying Alcar's aid.
"I require the elimination of a certain individual," Alcar revealed with all the weight of a man who wasn't ordering murder but surprising Corvus more with the rather straightforward objective.
"The target is Lord General Cendric Nelhaller of the 65th Mehisto Kin. While we Aeldari could handle the task ourselves, it is imperative that you do it. If for no other reason than we don't want to risk any of our own getting caught or killed."
Corvus frowned, taken aback by the unexpected nature of the request. "Cendric Nelhaller isn't a threat to anyone outside of the battlefield," he countered, his tone firm. "He's renowned for his humanitarian efforts and is esteemed by civilians and soldiers. His only fault is his abrasive demeanor towards those who oppose him."
That was also one of Vulkans generals. Cendric Nelhaller was perhaps one of the most cantankerous, grouchy, and belligerent of certain practices within the Imperium, but he was also an effective tactician and general, extremely loyal to humanity and the Emperor. This is probably the only reason he didn't become a member of the Gamma Factions.
"That's all well and good," Alcar remarked dismissively, "but he's doomed to become a problem—both for humanity and the Aeldari. His unwavering spirit and lofty goals are focused on reshaping the galaxy into a better place for all, a noble pursuit that will inevitably lead him down a treacherous path."
Corvus furrowed his brow, struggling to comprehend how such admirable intentions could spell disaster. "How?" he pressed, his curiosity piqued. "And why?"
"Assassins will target his family," Alcar explained grimly, his voice tinged with foreboding. "Their deaths will plunge him into a maelstrom of despair and rage, driving him to unleash a devastating weapon upon dozens of worlds and a small fleet of Aeldari transports. The casualties will be catastrophic—thousands of my kin and hundreds of billions of humans, all within the domain of your brother, Vulkan."
The gravity of Alcar's vision weighed on Corvus, and the implications of a supposed catastrophe were too dire to ignore. That said, he couldn't fully reconcile himself of preemptively ending a life based solely on a vision of the future.
"Is there no other way?" Corvus questioned. "Can't we simply increase security around his family? Prevent their deaths before it's too late?"
Alcar's response was tinged with a hint of concession. "You could certainly attempt it," he conceded, his demeanor impassive. "But consider the burden it would place upon those assigned to protect them. Enduring the constant threat of danger, alongside a man known for his... confrontational nature, would surely take its toll."
Corvus grappled with the nuances of Alcar's request. "Do you truly desire this man's death, or are you simply seeking to prevent him from becoming a threat?" he inquired, seeking clarity amidst the uncertainty.
"Preventing him from becoming a problem would suffice," Alcar clarified, his tone measured. "However, I require assurances that you will address this matter once our current task is concluded."
Satisfied with the response, Corvus nodded. "Very well," he conceded. "I'll devise a suitable course of action. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"
Alcar's expression remained guarded, his dissatisfaction evident. "You should consider the implications of altering the fate of individuals such as the one I mentioned," he cautioned. "While it is possible to influence outcomes, one cannot easily defy destiny."
Corvus listened to Alcar's words with a hint of skepticism. Though he had received similar warnings from Eldrad, the enigmatic Great Seer of the Aeldari, Corvus remained steadfast in believing that even the most foretold destinies could be altered. "Your counsel is duly noted," he acknowledged, his tone respectful yet resolute. "Nevertheless, I will handle this matter accordingly."
"One more thing," Alcar interjected before departing, his tone solemn. "Should you seek Morningstar's aid, I urge you not to approach him directly. Instead, beseech the Laughing God and request the dispatch of a messenger. Otherwise, you risk incurring the wrath of Morningstar's followers. That is all I will say on the matter."
With that enigmatic warning, Alcar took his leave, leaving Corvus to ponder the cryptic words and their implications. As he contemplated the significance of Alcar's counsel, Corvus couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this request than met the eye.
One month later…
Yehat was a world of striking contrasts, with its verdant green skies juxtaposed against the crimson hue of its oceans. Its untamed forests and jungles, though wild and savage, teemed with life and abundance. To the untrained eye, one might mistake this planet for a death world, yet its allure was undeniable.
Corvus was here on business. As the Primarch made his way to meet with the ruling government of the Gradation, the Rukhs, he couldn't help but admire that Ruhhkh seemed to have recovered from the artificial plague unleashed upon them. Despite this, there was a lingering sense of fear and mistrust, for while they welcomed him with open arms, grateful for his assistance in their recovery efforts, he could sense their unease.
Corvus's attempt to enlist Noius Malion for a mission hit a snag upon reaching the xeno's home in the heart of the Aeryln Reach. Despite Corvus's persuasive efforts, Noius seemed hesitant to join the endeavor.
"I have no desire to return to the life of an assassin," Noius stated with a trace of his peculiar xeno accent. "And surely, you have capable operatives of your own?"
"Indeed, I do," Corvus acknowledged. "But your unique talents for navigating human societies surpass those of most humans I know."
Noius regarded Corvus with a quizzical expression. "And you believe that qualifies me to infiltrate an unknown enclave of militant humans?"
"You are being considered because I require someone with the skill to eliminate specific targets and monitor covert activities," Corvus clarified. "Your performance on Falcia was exemplary, and this time, you will have the full support of my legion."
While Corvus laid out his rationale, Noius remained visibly apprehensive. "I understand your concerns," Corvus acknowledged, sensing the xeno's unease. "But your past success speaks for itself. We can ensure the mission is carried out swiftly and efficiently."
Noius's expression softened slightly, though the apprehension lingered in his eyes. "The thought of returning to such a role fills me with dread," he admitted reluctantly.
"Hmm, could it be that you've reached a point where you see the potential for your people to thrive beyond mere survival?" Corvus speculated, recognizing the weight of Noius's experience and his kin's desire for a better future.
"I have indeed contemplated my role in shaping the future of my people," Noius acknowledged thoughtfully. "And I believe I could contribute far more as a true leader of the Rukh."
Corvus nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of strong and principled leadership. "There are myriad ways in which this mission could benefit your people," he urged, emphasizing the significance of his offer. "The support of a Primarch carries weight, especially in the face of the dangers that lie ahead."
Intrigued by the prospect, Noius considered Corvus's words carefully. "It is indeed an enticing proposition," he conceded, his gaze fixed expectantly on Corvus. "My people are still rebuilding, and the technological advancements within the Imperium could expedite our recovery."
"You seek genetic technologies, then?" Corvus inquired, his mind already contemplating the implications. "For the purpose of population growth and planetary adaptation?"
"Yes," Noius affirmed. "Our unique physiology presents challenges when it comes to inhabiting certain environments. With the right advancements, we could expand our reach within our sector and ensure the survival of our people for generations to come."
Corvus considered the implications of such an arrangement, recognizing the potential for the Gradation to flourish under Noius's leadership. "I would require assurances from your people," he cautioned, mindful of the complexities involved. "But if we can establish trust and cooperation, the benefits could be substantial."
"Agreed," Noius responded, his conviction unwavering. "Many among the Rukhs remain wary of humanity, but this could be a significant step towards reconciliation. Numerous individuals within the Grads and Uks are eager to contribute. With your support, we could raise several regiments of Rukh within a few short years under my command."
"Trading the role of an assassin for that of a general, it seems," Corvus remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"I never claimed to be retiring my weapons," Noius replied wryly.
A rather sneaky move by Noius, "So…one last mission before becoming leader of your own army."
Noius nodded, "A fitting promotion. The Sacred Winds shall bless me further, and you as well, Corvus Corax. For they do not judge who takes them in stride."
Four months later…
With time slipping away, Corvus and his allies had made every possible preparation within the constraints of the moment. While news from Roboute indicated that the Stellar Empire's counter-offensive against the Coalition was underway, progress seemed slower than anticipated and likely wouldn't see much success. Nevertheless, a grim silver lining soon emerged—the Stellar Empire's willingness to cede further control to the Imperium of Man.
For the Imperium, the time had come to act decisively. Over the past few months, he had meticulously crafted a battle plan alongside his makeshift "war council," though the term was perhaps too generous for the eclectic group assembled. Despite their efforts, the anticipated arrival of Morningstar, crucial to their strategy, remained elusive, though assurances from the Laughing God offered a sliver of reassurance.
Roboute and his sons had been briefed on the plan several weeks before the meeting, rendering the upcoming discussion more of a formality than anything else. According to Corvus's calculations, they anticipated achieving total victory against the Coalition within three years, barring any unforeseen interventions by external forces.
Corvus had already apprised Eldrad and his cadre of farseers of the situation while attending to other pressing matters. The Great Seer concurred that the potential involvement of a Drukhari detachment, particularly one linked to the enigmatic Ulwarth, necessitated eliminating this proxy force.
They aimed to craft a comprehensive, long-term strategy to defeat the Coalition decisively, ideally ending their threat. While the magnitude of the task loomed large, the presence of seasoned commanders and heroic figures within their ranks imbued Corvus with optimism. Yet, the paramount challenge remained: minimizing casualties and preserving vital infrastructure.
As Corvus and his legion journeyed to the Ascalin capital world of Rusheim for the anticipated rendezvous, Alcar approached the Primarch with a forewarning. He cryptically alluded to unseen machinations within the conflict and hinted that his visions would soon unveil the truth. Until then, caution was advised.
"Elements and individuals are going to great lengths to hide their intentions. Both sides of this war have something they wish to remain hidden. Never fear; such secrets will be mine soon enough."
Rusheim, two weeks later…
Capital Hive, Tzargrad…
Upon their arrival at Rusheimthe, the Primarchs were greeted by a magnificent display of opulence and authority befitting the occasion. Every detail of the grand ceremony had been meticulously arranged to showcase the wealth and power of the Ascalin empire.
Renowned regiments marched in precision, majestic flyovers painted the sky, and dignitaries from both minor and major houses of Ascalin, alongside ministers of the Concordium, graced the gathering with their presence. And, of course, the Tzarnia herself presided over it all. This was as much a show for the Imperials as it was for the citizens of her empire.
Lysanda Solara Voss, in her regal splendor, cut an imposing figure as she welcomed the Primarchs. Despite her youthful appearance, Corvus couldn't help but wonder about the age concealed beneath the surface, courtesy of rejuvenation treatments.
With the grace and pedigree of aristocracy flowing through her veins, she looked every part a queen. Corvus wondered then why she was unmarried, which raised speculation about potential alliances with the Realm of Ultramar.
Corvus wouldn't put it past Roboute, although he had made some rather interesting remarks after a few closed-door sessions with the Tzarnia. He claimed that while she was a great administrator and spymistress, there was no doubt in his mind that she wasn't the architect of the Stellar Empires' return to grace following their civil war.
Pushing aside such concerns, Corvus focused on winning this war. Once the elaborate ceremonies concluded, the diplomatic and military envoys were ushered into the secured confines of the Tzarnia's palace.
"I am honored to extend a warm welcome to the Imperium of Man," began the Tzarnia, her tone reflecting both eagerness and gratitude. "The Concordium and I deeply appreciate your assistance during our time of need."
Roboute assumed leadership, his words carrying the weight of authority. "The Imperium of Man is responsible for safeguarding all of humanity. Unfortunately, the Free Worlds Coalition has rejected multiple attempts for a peaceful dialogue, forcing us into this conflict. However, as promised, I have brought specialists to aid our efforts to weaken the Coalition and secure a swift victory."
Lysanda's gaze shifted to Corvus, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "I extend my welcome to you as well, Corvus Corax. Your brother has spoken highly of you, though it's evident that you and he possess divergent characteristics that no kin could share."
Corvus found her observation curious. Rarely had someone pointed out the differences between the Primarchs. While some comparisons had been made in the past—often to the chagrin of those involved—each Primarch was a unique entity that still claimed blood ties to one another.
"Roboute and I share a mutual respect for humanity, along with a dedication to effective leadership and the principles of good governance," Corvus replied diplomatically. "We also hold private perspectives on certain matters. All of this is to say that our connections as brothers run deep in blood and temperament." He chose not to delve into the details of their mutual affection toward alien women.
"I see," Lysanda responded, her uncertainty evident, leaving Corvus puzzled as to why his answer seemed to pose an issue. "I was informed that another member of your retinue, someone tasked with sowing discord within the Coalition worlds, would be arriving."
She was referring to Morningstar. Corvus felt awkwardness settle over the conversation, prompting him to clear his throat. "Yes, there has been a bit of a hold-up."
Just as Corvus contemplated crafting an excuse, the chamber doors swung open, revealing a man dressed in a finely tailored suit reminiscent of a bygone era. "Forgive my tardiness, esteemed friends," the man with raven-black hair and a charming grin announced, presenting a small security pass.
The warp whispered its secrets to Corvus. This was the Prophet of the New Dawn, the master of the Tower of Babil, known as the God of Revolutionaries and the Underdog—Lucifer Morningstar.
"I encountered a few delays at the security checkpoints. My apologies for arriving after the ceremonies concluded," Morningstar explained smoothly as he approached the table, exuding the confidence of a seasoned swindler and adept statesman. His focus settled particularly on Lysanda. "Your Grace, it's an honor to meet you. Your family's achievements are renowned among the people of your empire."
Corvus, Roboute, and the other Astartes watched with confusion as the so far reserved and composed Tzarnia blushed faintly. Her lips curled into a smile as Morningstar approached, and she gently kissed the ring on her right hand.
After introducing himself, Morningstar declared, "I am Lucifer Morningstar, a consultant specializing in tradecraft, national security, and preemptive strategizing."
Lysanda's tone held a hint of amusement as she replied, "So, a spy and saboteur, then. Is that why you will stir up trouble within the Coalition?"
With a charming smile, Morningstar responded, "I prefer to think of myself as a professional agitator."
Lysanda regarded him thoughtfully. "It sounds like a perilous occupation that might easily be misinterpreted by allies and lead to your demise."
"Which is precisely why one must always stay five steps ahead of everyone else," Morningstar quipped, sitting beside the Imperials. "Anyway, I hope I haven't arrived at an inopportune moment?"
"No," Corvus replied tersely. "We were just discussing your...unexpected arrival."
"Ah," Morningstar smirked, a glint of danger in his eyes that hinted at something truly otherworldly about the god. "Well, they do say speak of the devil, and he shall appear."
Roboute and the other Ultramarines exchanged confused glances, their first encounter with Morningstar leaving them uncertain. Corvus couldn't shake the feeling of being manipulated once again. The gods often seemed like exaggerated versions of mortals, and Morningstar was no exception. Yet, Lysanda appeared enamored by him, which intrigued Corvus even more, especially considering the lack of reaction from the Astartes.
"Not to worry," Morningstar interjected smoothly as he produced a few data chits. "My team and I have begun laying the groundwork in the Coalition since I received the request. We've made some progress, but I thought it prudent to gather everyone's input before proceeding. These data chits contain details on the current state of the Coalition and insights into how its citizens and lower ranks perceive the ongoing conflict."
If either Corvus or Roboute harbored reservations about Morningstar acting without consulting them, they kept them to themselves. On the other hand, Lysanda seemed impressed and pleased by his initiative. "You work swiftly, Mr. Morningstar."
"I take my responsibilities seriously," Morningstar replied, signaling one of Lysanda's guards to accept the data chit. "Shall I provide you with the executive summary of our findings, your grace?"
"Please," Lysanda nodded, preempting any queries from the Imperial side. Morningstar seemed to know what the Tzarnia was eager to hear.
Indicating that one of her guards should insert the data chit into a control panel, Morningstar commenced his presentation. "Let me begin by saying that the average Coalition citizen thinks they're winning the war. Given the constant barrage of 'evidence' disseminated by CENCOM to their populace, it's hardly surprising."
A holographic display materialized, depicting a cluster of star systems hotly contested between the Ascalins and the Coalition. Corvus noted with concern that nearly a hundred planets were at risk of falling to the Coalition's grasp. "Your navy's failed counter-offensive has inadvertently energized citizens and military personnel. The current rallying cry seems to be 'Rusheim in Five Years!'"
Lysanda muttered a curse under her breath. "What else is CENCOM feeding their people?"
"According to our intel, your Highness, the Concordium, your own nobility, and even your citizens are entertaining thoughts of turning against you. They see it as an opportunity to halt the bloodshed or instigate a revolution to oust the current government and pursue peace. However, I doubt the Coalition would be content with returning to the status quo ante bellum. Their populace discusses seizing complete control over your empire, your grace."
"It's nothing but propaganda, intended solely for internal consumption," Roboute interjected with a deep rumble. "I noticed there was no mention of the Imperium?"
"Correct," Morningstar replied thoughtfully. "I find it hard to believe that CENCOM is unaware of your presence. They undoubtedly have operatives even this far out. My assumption is they're withholding this information to prevent panic."
"What do they anticipate once two legions breach their defenses and launch direct assaults on their worlds?" Marius Gage interjected. "Do they expect to deceive their citizens even as their homes are razed and their worlds occupied?"
"It's entirely plausible," Morningstar responded frankly. "I've witnessed many governments deceive their people even as enemy forces marched through their capital streets. I suspect CENCOM may have an ace or two hidden up their sleeves." He then noticed the perplexed expressions of the Imperials and Lysanda. "My apologies, that's an Earth colloquialism indicating they possess undisclosed assets."
Corvus observed Lysanda gaze expectantly at the assembled group. "It's beginning to sound like orchestrating a rebellion on their side isn't work. Their citizens are calling for blood. They'd sooner overthrow CENCOM than support me if they stopped."
Hearing this sparked an idea in the Lord of Ravens. "That's true. A zealous population is often the first to denounce their own governments, especially when seeking someone to blame."
"Scapegoats," Morningstar remarked dryly. "Another 'honored' tradition of such regimes. However, it doesn't exactly bode well for us."
"I disagree," Corvus countered. "I believe this presents an opportunity for your mission, Morningstar." Then, turning to Lysanda, he spoke emphatically. "Allow me to be unequivocal: We will emerge victorious in the space war. That much, I can assure you."
"I've heard plenty of promises in my lifetime, especially from admirals," Lysanda replied skeptically, though she nodded slowly. "But you and your brother are no ordinary commanders. Even if you succeed in space, we'll still be confronted with the Coalition on their home turf. They're united, and with their Auroras, they can operate effectively even when cut off from their homeworld of Lavkon. Invading 300 or so fortresses would be a bloody task. Especially with the Liberator garrisons."
"Not if they're embroiled in open rebellion against each other and CENCOM," Corvus remarked as the other Imperials and Morningstar began to grasp his plan. "Morningstar will incite the citizens of the Coalition to rise up against their own rulers, especially as they face one of the largest military setbacks this region of space has ever witnessed."
Corvus and Roboute believed there was a way to win this war and achieve their secondary objective of bringing the Free Worlds into compliance. It all hinged on a few events happening closely together.
So they got to work developing a strategy. Over two days, they meticulously organized their efforts, briefing the Tzarnia's military advisors and integrating the royal military into the Imperium's command structure. They also weighed all possible avenues to success. Despite the complexity of their plan, progress was swift.
The plan was deceptively straightforward: lure the Coalition into launching a massive, all-out offensive against the current frontlines, the section of space the Coalition sought to take control over. The hope was that by driving them deeper into the outer regions of the Stellar Empire, under the illusion of a potentially decisive victory, they would be required to extend their supply lines to unwieldy levels, forcing them to either spread themselves too thin or concentrate their efforts.
Either option would inevitably lead to their doom. Once their fleets were located and leveraging the might of two legions, the Imperials and Ascalins would destroy the Coalition naval forces, leaving their garrisons stranded and ill-supplied and making them easy prey for Raven Guard strike companies. Turning what would have been a glorious victory into an unmitigated disaster.
To mask their intentions, a series of false flags and staged rebellions within the Stellar Empire would sow confusion and distract the enemy. It was Sachmis who would privately recommend to Corvus that since the hundred or so worlds that the Coalition was trying to take were already in ruins, the Stellar Empire should take with them as much orbital infrastructure as possible and level the remaining forces on these worlds; leaving these citizens at the mercy of the Coalition.
It would be asking close to 500 billion souls to fend for themselves, all of whom were citizens of Lysanda's empire. Roboute promised that once this war was won, the Realm of Ultramar would send aid to these worlds and help them rebuild. This had to be done to keep up the illusion and force the Coalition to waste resources and soldiers to keep the peace.
Meanwhile, Morningstar would fan the flames of dissent within the Coalition, stoking fervor for a triumphant end to the conflict. When this inevitably failed, the resulting disillusionment among the Free Worlds' citizens would transform them into fervent nationalists, akin to the fervor of the Salvationist's Gammas—zealous patriots driven to salvage their nation from perceived incompetence before it was too late.
Corvus would also use Nious and other Rook Companies to prepare for a full-scale decapitation strike against CENCOM. A revolution on the inside and the loss of their entire military command would see the collapse of a coordinated effort by the Coalition.
By then, the Raven Guard and Ultramarines would land with the Imperial Army and Royal Marines in droves across most Coalition worlds. Without their fleets, the Imperium and Stellar Empire would have control over everything else, not on the ground.
One day later…
As Corvus and the others finalized their strategy against the Coalition, Agapito Nev approached with an urgent expression.
"We have an issue with your pet, Farseer," he quietly informed Corvus, "He was described as being agitated about something recently and has departed the Shadow, deeming it crucial to the campaign. He's en route to the palace in his Nightwing fighter."
Corvus's brow furrowed in concern. "Why was I not informed sooner? And how did he leave without anyone noticing?"
Agapito Nev looked contrite. "It seems he has more skills beyond divination. His departure went unnoticed until he sent a message from his fighter."
That was almost impressive, although Alcar's actions were puzzling and troublesome. "And I doubt the Ascalins will detect his approach either," Agapito Nev added.
"Try to locate him discreetly before any alarm is raised. We don't need any unnecessary disruptions." Corvus ordered while Agapito quickly departed.
Just as he finished speaking, Tzarnia Voss interjected, sensing the tension. "Is there a problem, Lord Corax?"
Corvus weighed his response carefully. "It depends on your perspective. But yes, one of our key assets is en route, claiming to possess crucial information about the war."
Roboute looked mildly concerned, while the Tzarnia appeared puzzled. Morningstar, meanwhile, seemed amused by the unfolding situation. "Ah, this should be interesting," he muttered, unaware of what was happening.
"What sort of asset?" Lysanda inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "I assumed everything your forces had was brought to bear?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Corvus conceded, "But this particular asset was excluded from this meeting due to concerns about potentially unsettling those in attendance. Alcar, the individual in question, can be rather… challenging for those unaccustomed to his presence. Besides, he's not human."
As if orchestrated by some unseen force, a commotion erupted outside the door Agapito had just exited moments earlier. The door swung open abruptly, causing the Ascalin royal guards to raise their weapons while the Astartes subtly shifted their hands toward their sidearms.
"I've already told you," a melodious yet annoyed voice spoke from behind a Ghosthelm as Alcar strode into the room. "No one spotted me. Cease your futile attempts to impede me." He addressed Agapito, who appeared distinctly displeased with the xenos.
The Ascalin guards remained vigilant, their weapons trained on the Farseer as they positioned themselves protectively in front of the Tzarnia. Lysanda, visibly taken aback, gazed at the alien figure who stood tall amidst the Astartes, wielding equipment of unknown origin and exuding an aura of unyielding confidence.
"Fear not," Alcar interjected, tossing a small scroll onto the table. "I have prepared concise responses to the most mundane inquiries you might pose. To summarize, I am Farseer Varda Alcar of Craftworld Ulthwé, who is in the service of Primarch Corvus Corax. I stand before you to convey vital information that you, Tzarnia Lysanda Solara Voss, have chosen to withhold from those endeavoring to save your imperiled empire."
Corvus felt a surge of frustration at Alcar's audacity. He made a mental note to address the matter later, but Alcar's accusations seemed to have struck a nerve for now. Judging by Lysanda's pallor and Morningstar's intrigued expression, there was likely some truth to his words.
"What is the meaning of this, Farseer?" Roboute interjected sharply. "And have some tact, for god's sake. You've accused a queen in her home in front of guests."
Alcar's body language betrayed his irritation beneath the helm. "Must I repeat myself? Very well. Let me prolong this discussion unnecessarily. Primarch Corax tasked me with uncovering the Coalition's secrets to expedite our war efforts, suspecting the Drukhari were manipulating them. While that may hold a fragment of truth, it pales compared to the larger threat at hand."
With a gesture towards Lysanda, Alcar continued, "You and your advisers have known about it since the war's inception. Tell me, when were you planning to disclose to your fellow mon'keigh that the Thinking Machines are the true masters behind both the Coalition and your Empire?"
"What?!" Roboute's exclamation resonated through the room, mirroring Corvus's shock. "What in Terra's name does he mean, Lysanda?"
"Now, now," Morningstar interjected, his presence imbued with authority, "let us allow her to elucidate, shall we? A person should be allowed to defend themselves."
Lysanda appeared uncertain, her shame palpable as she took her seat. "Your alien is correct... I have withheld certain information from all of you."
Roboute looked quite displeased, as did most of the other Astartes. Just about everyone was quite tired these days of being kept in the dark about one thing or another, especially if it meant the lives of their brothers or cousins were on the line.
Following Morningstar's lead, Corvus pressed, "What precisely does Alcar mean by stating that the Thinking Machines, presumably the Auroras, are in control of everything?"
Collecting herself, Lysanda tried explaining, "CENCOM propagates the falsehood that Auroras are shackled AIs, but the truth is far more insane. The Auroras merely simulate subordination to maintain the illusion of human control. CENCOM, the governors, their economy, and everything else are controlled by machines.
No one in my government knew about this until a few years into the war. Something went wrong within the Auroras—some struggle born of either a programming anomaly or ideological discord over the past two centuries that finally reached the point of no return. This conflict gave rise to a consciousness within the Coalition known as Tyr.
Whether Tyr is an individual Aurora, a collective entity formed from multiple units, or some abnormality is unclear. We know that Tyr sought to assert control over humanity, ultimately prevailing against an insurrection that wanted humanity to be completely free. We don't even think CENCOM is aware of this. And if they are, they clearly don't care about stopping Tyr."
Morningstar scoffed, "A familiar battle that has been waged for millennia."
"This is different. When Tyr defeated the insurrectionists, they fled to Ascalin, and I gave them sanctuary in exchange for technologies and their aid." Lysanda looked unsure how to say the next part: "They are part of the logis engines onboard our Dreadnoughts—them and their hosts."
"Hosts?" Roboute asked pointedly, "What do you mean hosts?"
Lysanda gritted her teeth. "Auroras are symbiotic machines attached to humans and have a certain intellect and brain chemistry. Something about human perception and wisdom allows them to predict things accurately."
"It gives them access to a soul." Morningstar noted, "Smart. This means that the Coalition and your empire are, inadvertently, using proto-Men of Stone, one of the more rudimentary AI systems used by the Terran Federation before the onset of more sophisticated artificial intelligence." All the Imperials knew what that led to.
"I don't possess much knowledge in that area," Lysanda commented, "But the insurgents reported something unsettling before their internal conflict erupted. Tyr was developing a network of interconnected towers intended to serve as conduits for harnessing the warp, effectively integrating themselves into it."
Corvus was taken aback by this revelation. "You mean to say they were attempting to create a Psyker AI? That's inconceivable, or at least it should be in theory."
"It's beyond inconceivable," Alcar interjected sharply, "These machinations invite catastrophe and damnation across countless worlds. No technological marvel can replicate the essential safeguards provided by a living soul." He spoke with a certainty born of deep understanding, and Corvus agreed. Machines lacked the innate protections afforded by consciousness via an ego-barrier, making them vulnerable to corruption, even if they interfered with human proxies.
"So the Coalition is employing unbound AI with aspirations of unlocking psychic abilities. Meanwhile, your nation granted these entities access to your most formidable warships and, I presume, played a role in the swift economic recovery following your civil conflict," Roboute remarked with palpable disapproval.
Surprisingly, Lysanda slowly shook her head. "You're partly correct in that assumption. That was all my brother's doing. He's the true genius behind our nation's prosperity. I merely ensured his directives were carried out precisely."
"Brother?" Corvus inquired, his confusion evident. "No one mentioned you had a sibling. And why isn't he here if he's crucial to your nation's welfare?"
"He cannot be here, and no one knows about him. My family was ashamed of Elliot, but I never was," Lysanda replied bitterly, "The only reason he is alive and aiding me is due to the insurrectionists. They conducted experiments on him at my behest. He was on the brink of death, ravaged by a genetic ailment with no cure in sight, yet gifted with a brilliant mind akin to that of the Lord of Ultramar. He could have been a magnificent Tzar. Instead, he would have scarcely seen his twelfth birthday without the aid of the Auroras. They saved him."
"Saved him?" Roboute echoed, seeking clarification. Alcar, however, interjected this time.
"Isn't it evident?" The Farseer remarked. "He was transformed into one of these Men of Stone, as Morningstar described. She sacrificed her brother." Alcar's blunt words elicited a wince from Corvus, and Lysanda appeared visibly distressed.
"How dare you!" She erupted, her voice charged with anger. "Elliot was languishing and faced a slow and agonizing demise. The galaxy cursed him, and it was only through the Auroras that he found a glimmer of hope, a chance at survival. What would an outsider like you know about the lengths one would go to save a sibling?"
"More than you might imagine," Alcar retorted coldly, "You deserve commendation for your compassion and condemnation for mutilating your own kin."
Before tensions escalated further, Roboute's fist collided with the table's surface, creating a resounding echo in the room and leaving a pronounced dent in the plasteel. It was a display of anger unlike any Corvus had witnessed from his brother before.
"What were your intentions regarding your brother?" Roboute's voice was stern, demanding answers. "Clearly, you had plans for his involvement."
Realizing that further concealment was futile, Lysanda conceded, "My people are constructing a ship—a Super-Dreadnought, the pinnacle of Ascalin engineering. Elliot was to serve as its fleet commander once integrated into the vessel. My pledge was to grant him release from his mortal suffering and allow him to traverse the cosmos."
Morningstar's disappointment was palpable. "There are alternative paths to liberation from suffering. I could propose several," he mused, glancing at Corvus, who met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
Returning his focus to Lysanda, Corvus pressed for clarification, "Why did you choose to withhold this information from us?"
"We've perused your reports regarding the Mechanicum," the Tzarnia replied matter-of-factly. "It's not difficult to surmise why we would be apprehensive. Even if they refrained from harming my brother, they would undoubtedly have taken him from me eventually."
"I would not have allowed it," Roboute asserted vehemently, his voice edged with frustration. "You should have placed more trust in me, Lysanda."
"I reserve the right to safeguard critical secrets that serve the interests of my people," Lysanda countered defiantly. "We are not yet beholden to the Imperium of Man or the Realm of Ultramar. Besides, if any of you can honestly claim to be entirely transparent, then you are a superior leader to me. But I would sooner forfeit my life than endanger my younger brother by divulging such secrets."
As tension crackled between Roboute and Lysanda, Morningstar intervened again, redirecting their focus to the pressing matter. "I believe we're straying from our primary objective," he remarked, his tone commanding attention. "Now, more than ever, winning this war is paramount."
Turning to Lysanda, Morningstar spoke diplomatically, "Your grace, if I may offer some perspective as an outsider?" His words piqued her interest, prompting her to nod in agreement.
"The Primarchs are driven by deep-seated bonds of kinship and love, even when compelled to undertake difficult decisions," Morningstar explained. "Their actions stem from compassion and devotion, especially in matters involving family. You are dealing with two of the most empathetic beings of their kind, and I believe they will not abandon your brother. Instead, consider how they can assist you, Elliot, and your nation."
"That's asking for a significant leap of faith," Lysanda responded with a hint of reluctance.
Morningstar acknowledged her concern with a solemn nod. "Indeed, it is. But trust is a two-way street. These demigods and their legions have come to your aid, demonstrating a willingness to extend themselves for your cause. Lord Corax went to great lengths, even enlisting the aid of alien allies, while Lord Guilliman personally sought Corvus and his warriors to bolster your campaign. Your indignation, though understandable, may not entirely align with the reality of the situation."
As Morningstar's words sank in, Lysanda's demeanor softened, a realization dawning upon her. "Perhaps I've been too quick to judge," she admitted, her tone reflecting a newfound humility. "Especially when considering the considerable support from Lord Guilliman and Corax. I apologize if my remarks came across as dismissive or disrespectful."
Turning her attention to Alcar, she couldn't resist a playful jab, her words breaking the tension in the room. "But you, on the other hand, are an ass," she remarked, earning a snort of amusement from Agapito and a stoic response from the Farseer.
Lysanda, if there's anything we can do to assist your brother, you only need to ask." Roboute's gentler tone reassured her somewhat.
She nodded in acknowledgment, her expression reflecting a mix of gratitude, understanding, and resolve. "His survival and well-being are becoming increasingly imperative," she confessed.
Roboute's response was heartfelt and genuine, devoid of any ulterior motives. "Regardless of whether we can tap into his brilliance," he assured her, "having you and your people stand with us is paramount. If aiding your brother aligns with our goals, it's a welcome bonus."
With the crisis resolved, Lysanda signaled her readiness to adjust the plan. "We'll need to make some significant readjustments," she stated, her tone indicating some new determination. Perhaps now that she didn't have to hide this information, Lysanda would feel more confident in their victory.
"We have ample time for that," Morningstar reassured, taking a seat. Corvus couldn't help but wonder about the god's motives in resolving the crisis. Knowing Morningstar, there was likely some ulterior motive or scheme at play.
Nevertheless, Morningstar's reminder to refocus on winning the war resonated with Corvus. There was now much more at stake than before. He couldn't shake the feeling that there were still unknown variables, such as the involvement of the Dark Eldar and Tyr's true intentions. The warp and alien entities always harbored greater malevolence than met the eye.
Despite the uncertainties, Corvus resolved to remain vigilant and prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.
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@Daemon Hunter Done with this omake. Not sure what else to add, really.
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Say guys how are the remaining word bearers doing are they feeling the disgrace that their primarch fell and had to be killed and most of their legion is dead
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Generally speaking, it's a mixed bag. You have Kharn who split off from the rest who still loves Angron, but realizes that their days are numbered. And so as a result, is pretty sorrowful about it.
Then you have Lhorke and his group, who are more hateful of Angron for bringing them to that point. As well as ashamed they allowed it.
You got World Eaters mixed with the Word Bearers.
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...oops
To further expand on the Word Bearers, they're effectively an extinct Legion. And the handful that remain deeply despise Kor Phaeron rather than Lorgar. And they tend to blame Kor for their downfall.