The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
Thank you for your kind words. I've greatly enjoyed this whole compliance, despite the fears and worry it inspired in me, glad to see how things went in all honesty.
For this... I pick the third reward, Increased odds that any hero Epsilon may kill is instead captured, because while it's uncertain if we'll ever fight Epsilon again if we leave now it's a lot, lot less uncertain that Heroes could die here.
Also, I've been pretending that the signs weren't flashing in my face but yeah it's just a better move to run at this point.
[X] Plan We Are Leaving
- [X] Full Retreat
- [X] Do not deploy Solarus at all
- Location
- Elsewhere
Alright, well now that I have all the bonuses involved. Time for the vote to be closed. This is going to be interesting.
- Location
- Elsewhere
So, for the rolls, they're attached below, and I'm just going to begin by saying your rolls were incredibly low. For the 5 dice, you got 5, 18, 16, 59, and 7 which when combined with a rather aggressive strategy meant that there were a significant number of losses during the fighting. Overall you lost another 12 billion guardsmen and 10k Astartes before you were forced to retreat within the Titan hulls. Thankfully though Dantioch came in clutch and was able to secure an avenue of retreat. Additionally, while the Vigilance is heavily damaged, Karcer did survive and was not captured. Moreover, it'll be repaired by the next set of compliances.
The Warden's Walk: 5 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 5 (Forward Unto Dawn) + 20 (Omakes) + 1 (Defenses) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 120 (Kesar) + 30 (The Primarch is Here) + 40 (Durante and Vergil) + 5 (Outnumbered) + 5 (The Khalsa) + 15 (Titans) + 5 (Vindicare) + 3 (Injured Vanus) = 438
+433
Missile Battery: 78 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 40 (Defenses) + 40 (Anti-Air) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 80 (Titans) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 20 (Armored Forces) + 21 (270) + 20 (Numbers) + 30 (Artillery Park) = 484
+406
The Western Line: 18 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 247
+229
The Far Side: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 30 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) + 20 (Fortress 467 Sally) = 344
+295
The Southern Line: 16 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 245
+229
The Southern Flank: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 5 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) = 299
+250
The Void War: 59 + 39 (Void Combat) + 20 (Iron Warriors) + 20 (Astartes) + 105 (Dantioch) + 30 (Vigilance) + 20 (Teleportation) + 20 (Omakes) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 50 (Khaine) - 25 (Anti-Champion) - 20 (Chaff) + 10 (Numbers) + 5 (Solarus Pushing Himself) = 338
+279
My Turn: 13 + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Void Combat) + 130 (Epsilon's Command) + 40 (Flagship) + 30 (Orbital Defenses) - 10 (Lost Escorts) - 20 (Lost Cruisers) - 20 (Lost Battleships) + 10 (Hammer Down) = 303
+290
The Vigilance: 7 + 100 (Gloriana) + 30 (Vigilance) + 10 (Omakes) + 20 (Karcer) + 5 (Omake) = 172
+160
The Flagship: 42 + 120 (Flagship) + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Elites) - 15 (Anti-Champion) = 267
+225
Karcer's Status: 31 (Captured) + 30 (Omakes) = 61
+433
Missile Battery: 78 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 40 (Defenses) + 40 (Anti-Air) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 80 (Titans) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 20 (Armored Forces) + 21 (270) + 20 (Numbers) + 30 (Artillery Park) = 484
+406
The Western Line: 18 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 247
+229
The Far Side: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 30 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) + 20 (Fortress 467 Sally) = 344
+295
The Southern Line: 16 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 245
+229
The Southern Flank: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 5 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) = 299
+250
The Void War: 59 + 39 (Void Combat) + 20 (Iron Warriors) + 20 (Astartes) + 105 (Dantioch) + 30 (Vigilance) + 20 (Teleportation) + 20 (Omakes) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 50 (Khaine) - 25 (Anti-Champion) - 20 (Chaff) + 10 (Numbers) + 5 (Solarus Pushing Himself) = 338
+279
My Turn: 13 + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Void Combat) + 130 (Epsilon's Command) + 40 (Flagship) + 30 (Orbital Defenses) - 10 (Lost Escorts) - 20 (Lost Cruisers) - 20 (Lost Battleships) + 10 (Hammer Down) = 303
+290
The Vigilance: 7 + 100 (Gloriana) + 30 (Vigilance) + 10 (Omakes) + 20 (Karcer) + 5 (Omake) = 172
+160
The Flagship: 42 + 120 (Flagship) + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Elites) - 15 (Anti-Champion) = 267
+225
Karcer's Status: 31 (Captured) + 30 (Omakes) = 61
- Location
- The Golden State
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I don't want to say I told you so but…
I do want it to be noted that we did not lose anything irreplaceable. It does suck that we couldn't recover our boys or the titan frames but we will be back to 100k Wardens next turn, we will have both our Glorianas back and operational, our titan legion will be back to full strength, and every named character here except Durante has gotten a trait due to just how bad this got without losing anyone important.
- Location
- The Golden State
- Pronouns
- He/Him
There are more pressing matters out there to deal with before we can even begin to go back to cyberstan for round 2 fellas, like idk prevent a full blown civil war for example
There really isn't much we can do to prevent civil war tbh. At this point it is firmly out of our hands and up to the likes of Vulkan, Konrad, Emps, and Mortarion once he figures out who has been assassinating his Heroes.
- Location
- Elsewhere
A slight caveat, but you did lose an Imperator Titan, which will take around 10-15 years to replace. Other than that though your Titan Legion will be at full strength next turn. Along with your Glorianas and Legion.
@Daemon Hunter What happens if we were to drop what we were doing right now to get involved in trying to prevent the civil war from getting worse? Would that effectively end the Tartarus Crusade?
- Location
- Elsewhere
It depends on how you do it and what assets you pull with you. If it's just Kesar, then Ori and Karcer will pick up the Tartarus Crusade once more for it. If you pull your entire Legion though, then it'd effectively end it immediately. And in full honesty, pulling Oriacarius would mean that Karcer would have to be given a lot of priveleges and rights you wouldn't be able to take from her.
But if you pull a notable amount of Astartes, then it'd end the Tartarus Crusade as well. Just due to a lack of bodies.
However, if Kesar leaves that does mean he'd be less able to influence it in the future, just due to other people filling the void out of necessity.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
Unless I'm mistaken that Imperator was already out of our reach. So even if we withdrew in the last round, the only thing that would have been spared is around 10k Astartes, 12 billion IA (which is already nothing compared to the 180 billion that we lost in space on the way to the planet), and some fixable damage to the Vigilance.
- Location
- Elsewhere
So, for the sake of planning, I figured I'd just say this now. But Epsilon is going to be leaving this planet after this and destroy it before he leaves. He's sadly smart enough to realize that this fight was close, and next time you'd be showing up with a lot more forces.
That being said, it isn't known in universe yet, but it'll be known a bit after Pert shows up to help out, but before you actually are locked into deployment patterns.
I can confirm he'll be leaving behind the Astartes prisoners, and a decent proportion of the guardsmen prisoners (8 billion of the 10 billion he has). Also included among the number is an uploaded human, who is going to have an interesting time.
Edit: I should note this doesn't mean he's no longer a part of the story, he will in fact reappear in places. And if you're so inclined, you could in fact try and track him down.
That being said, it isn't known in universe yet, but it'll be known a bit after Pert shows up to help out, but before you actually are locked into deployment patterns.
I can confirm he'll be leaving behind the Astartes prisoners, and a decent proportion of the guardsmen prisoners (8 billion of the 10 billion he has). Also included among the number is an uploaded human, who is going to have an interesting time.
Edit: I should note this doesn't mean he's no longer a part of the story, he will in fact reappear in places. And if you're so inclined, you could in fact try and track him down.
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All Cards on the Table (Must Read)
All Cards on the Table
Two weeks after the M-Talk Incident…
Onboard the Battleship, "Hymn of Vitrue."
Reflecting on the events that had transpired, Lockcraft couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret over his initial interaction with Blair. He realized his first interaction with the Lord General could have been more diplomatic. Now, as allies, things were still a bit awkward between the two of them.
Despite this, their escape from Macragge had been remarkably smooth. Due to meticulous planning, a few breaches in orbital security, and the element of surprise, they evaded any pursuit and effectively warped out when a planetary lockdown was declared.
As they journeyed away from Macragge, Blair divulged some details about why the infiltration and extraction had been so successful and attributed most of their success to information provided by Cegorach.
According to Blair, the insufferable deity had revealed that the Alpha Legion, some sort of secretive Space Marine legion, had spent three decades orchestrating the security breach for some potential eventuality against the Ultramarines. However, Cegorach harbored disdain for these Astartes, and Lockcraft was cautioned to use this information judiciously.
Though intrigued by Cegorach's involvement, Lockcraft's primary focus was unraveling Blair's overarching plan. Two weeks after everything had been said and done, he had been effectively placed inside one of the most comfortable rooms on her flagship and left to ponder the situation.
Lockcraft's security detail had been instructed to liaise with the Founders, apprise them of the situation, and ready the Ravenloft for potential action. However, considerable time had elapsed since those orders were issued.
Despite the passage of time, Lockcraft remained unperturbed about his own safety. Blair had shown no inclination towards torturing or interrogating him, actions she could have easily taken by now. Instead, it seemed she was preoccupied with issuing directives following the success of her announcement. Yet, with the Imperium poised to respond, Blair's window for preparation was rapidly narrowing.
Recognizing the situation's urgency, Lockcraft was determined to engage in dialogue with Blair as soon as possible, even though she might not be receptive to conversation.
While waiting for the right opportunity, Lockcraft delved into Blair's wealth of reading material. He meticulously scrutinized the evidence she presented during the M-Talk broadcast, finding it both unsettling and remarkably detailed.
What struck him most was the depth of Blair's research. Evidently, this was not merely a casual pursuit for her; rather, it appeared to result from extensive collaboration with scribes, scholars, and believers. One term, in particular, caught Lockcraft's attention: Exalt. It seemed to denote the efforts of a group affiliated with Blair, akin to Ravenloft's own research division.
However, the extent of its existence and operation remains unclear. How long had Blair been conducting research with this Exalt? Was it something she formed, or did they come to her?
Considering the level of detail he was seeing, it must have been a considerable duration. Notes on "Deiformology" indicate a systematic study of divine life, exploring concepts like Godspores and Godseeds as incipient divine entities and semi-realized divine sapients. This wasn't some ad hoc organization that she had formed with a few scientists and soldiers.
The revelations in the subsequent reports shook Lockcraft to his core, challenging his hypotheses about the possibility of spiritual reconciliation within the Imperium. Blair's perspective diverged sharply from his own, and her access to classified information confirmed a disturbing agenda within the Consilium: a thousand-year plan to systematically eradicate all traces of religious records, depictions, and historical sites across the scope of the Imperium.
The implications were dire. Even with millennia at their disposal, the loss of such profound historical and cultural knowledge would be immeasurable. The resulting upheaval and chaos within the warp threatened to disrupt the return of what Exalt called "Homo Divinus." A strange title to attach to the gods and one that Lockcraft wasn't too keen to use.
Lockcraft realized that Exalt approached the divine from a pragmatic rather than scholarly standpoint, perhaps even a fundamentally military focus. He needed more information about this group. Unfortunately, that meant talking to Blair, and the passage of two weeks had only deepened his sense of urgency and frustration.
Moreover, Lockcraft grappled with the realization that he had underestimated the machinations of Cegorach and Venus, who seemed to be pulling the strings behind the scenes. Their manipulation had unwittingly led to a looming political and cultural catastrophe within the Imperium that Lord Corax would undoubtedly condemn.
But Ravenloft's failure to anticipate and counteract the emergence of something like Exalt was a sobering wake-up call for Lockcraft. He recognized his complacency and arrogance, believing that his organization possessed the only mandate to study such things. This would not do. As he contemplated his return to the Founders, Lockcraft resolved to initiate a comprehensive overhaul of Ravenloft's strategies and operations.
There would be much to do in the coming years.
But for now, Lockcraft's attention was directed towards unraveling Blair's intricate scheme.
As if sensing his need for clarity, Blair appeared to recollect Lockcraft's presence aboard her ship. He received word from one of her diligent aides that a meeting had been scheduled between them, set to commence on the dawn of the 15th day of his stay.
In due course, Lockcraft found himself escorted through the corridors of the Virtue, ultimately arriving at Blair's office. Stepping into the space, he couldn't help but notice the familiar sight of paperwork and documents scattered across the desk and various surfaces. It seemed Blair shared Lockcraft's penchant for meticulous organization amidst the chaos of their respective duties.
Blair's office could be aptly described as a juxtaposition of order and chaos, where the scattered parcels and objects reflected her nature. It exuded an air of purposeful disarray, the type found in some military camps counter to the "disciplined" image the Imperial Army claimed. Lockcraft could see stacks of reports and documents arranged haphazardly on her desk and various surfaces.
What stood out to him was the scattered religious artifacts and texts amid all the clutter, hinting at Blair's interest in spirituality and the divine. A sculpture of some strange humanoid figure added to the eclectic atmosphere of the room. Despite the apparent disorder, there was a feeling of determination and reverence. This was her chapel.
"I apologize for the wait," Blair said, her attention still fixed on the document before her. "But I'm sure you can understand that what I am doing requires considerable work and attention on my part." She made a small idle gesture for Lockcraft to take a seat.
Lockcraft approached and noted with some amusement at a stack of reports sitting off to the side of his chair. It seemed that those documents had been the prior recipients of this seat. As he sat, he waited patiently for Blair to start. It was better to let her do most of the talking while he tried asking more questions to fish for answers.
Completing her current report, Blair sighed, her weariness mirroring Lockcraft's own during a few late nights at his office. "I suppose I need to set a few things straight. This, let's call it an alliance, will end once you and your organization contribute to a level I deem satisfactory or otherwise. After that, our business is done."
Already, Blair was attempting to establish a unilateral dynamic. "Just because I am willing to offer my organization's services to you doesn't mean that you can dictate all the terms of this 'alliance,' Blair."
"You offered your services to me, Lockcraft," Blair countered, her tone firm. "I never asked for your help because I don't need it."
"You do need it," Lockcraft argued before reconsidering his approach. "Let me try this from a different angle: you are attempting to summon forth a godseed into this realm, what you refer to as semi-realized divine sapients, a term which, incidentally, is quite a mouthful. I can say with absolute certainty that if any aspect of this ritual goes awry, the consequences will be dire."
"I'm well aware of the potential fallout," Blair said, her curiosity piqued. "And you are as well? What exactly has your organization gotten into, Mr. Lockcraft? Better yet, what makes you an authority in this matter?"
Lockcraft settled into his seat, adopting a relaxed posture to appear forthcoming. "The organization I am part of has delved into matters concerning the divine and conducted extensive research on them. One of our achievements was facilitating Venus's manifestation into this realm, a task in which I played a role." His tone remained matter-of-fact, devoid of any hint of arrogance.
Blair's reaction betrayed surprise. "Is that right... Venus never mentioned such an organization in passing..." She appeared slightly perturbed.
"Of course she didn't," Lockcraft replied with a faint frown. "They are playing us both. She and Cegorach are colluding for one reason or another. I knew something was wrong when my appearance on M-Talk was rescheduled nearly a month in advance, which ensured my presence at the studio that night."
"Hmm." Blair's expression soured. "That does sound like Cegorach. But you claim to have helped bring Venus into this realm. How exactly did you accomplish that?"
"We conducted a series of rituals that coincided with several major events, such as the chaos that unfolded on the planet bearing her name during the Wargames before the Coup on Terra. There was also an extraction team that secured the Shell of Venus, and through a series of what I can only call favorable cosmic dice rolls, she was able to resurrect into this realm."
While Lockcraft revealed more than he would have liked, this information gave him more credibility, as Blair regarded him with newfound interest. "Truly? Your organization did all of that?"
"My organization boasts numerous powerful assets and benefactors, including the Aeldari," Lockcraft admitted. "We are known as Ravenloft. I am one of its founders and, I suppose, its chief ritualist if we're assigning titles and responsibilities."
"Ravenloft..." Blair tested the name. "And what does Ravenloft do?"
"We study the divine," Lockcraft explained. "Our goal is to understand its nature, discern its intentions for humanity, and, ultimately, ensure that the gods become allies to all life upon their return."
Blair scoffed at his assertion. "Nowhere does it sound like you intend to eliminate them if they become a threat."
"Removing a god is neither simple nor definitive unless Chaos is involved," Lockcraft clarified. "But by that point, the situation would have escalated to a dire state for the galaxy."
"Chaos?" Blair's interest was piqued. "I've not yet heard that term."
Lockcraft was taken aback. "Are you serious?! You've been delving into matters concerning the divine without understanding what Chaos is? What about daemons? And why haven't Cegorach or Venus informed you?"
For a moment, Blair appeared equally frustrated and humiliated by her oversight. "Neither of them mentioned any such group or things like daemons."
"It's not a conventional group, per se," Lockcraft clarified. "Chaos is what the Aeldari refer to as the Great Enemy. It's a corruptive force that has likely existed within the warp for eons. It feeds on souls—humans, planets, and even gods are not exempt. Their power, particularly that of the Archdaemons and their Exalted, surpasses that of most mortal creatures, demigods, and even some gods now."
Blair seemed to take this information seriously, jotting down notes before fixing Lockcraft with an expectant gaze. "Alright, you've made your point," she conceded. Pausing, she regarded him with newfound consideration. "Clearly, you're privy to information that has been kept from me and my forces, and I suppose your services would be considered a red-letter day for me."
"I would hope so!" Lockcraft remarked with a frown, "Because you sought to summon a god without this knowledge," Lockcraft pointed out firmly, unwilling to overlook the potential consequences of Blair's oversight. "So yes, this cannot be a one-sided arrangement while offering my services."
Blair's frustration was evident, but she maintained her composure, refraining from making any inflammatory remarks. "Why don't we just lay all our cards on the table here?" she suggested, her gaze fixed on Lockcraft as she prepared to negotiate. "I'll share what I know, you share what you know, and together, we can outline the extent of our capabilities."
"Agreed," Lockcraft replied, determined to extract the necessary information from Blair. "But first, I have a few questions. I want to understand the purpose of your organization, Exalt, and, more importantly, what you're planning to do."
Blair considered his inquiries before activating her intercom to request refreshments. "That... will require some time to explain," she admitted, acknowledging the situation. "But it seems we have nothing but time at the moment."
Six hours later…
One couldn't possibly cover the vast scope of an endeavor that originated decades ago and has since burgeoned into a sprawling conspiracy spanning thousands of worlds, orchestrated by none other than Exalt or by its more formal moniker, Company EX-Ω.
"Exalt became the shorthand among our founding members," Blair elucidated, commencing her explanation. "It encapsulates the exaltation of humanity, a grand set of beliefs." Lockcraft nodded in agreement, acknowledging the monumental scale of their operations.
Company EX-Ω's genesis stemmed from the aftermath of the events on Monarchia. Blair, along with countless disillusioned soldiers of the Imperial Army, rallied behind her cause after she presented recovered notes and tomes of Lorgar. Yet rather than espousing the Primarch's belief that the Emperor was a deity, Blair posited the existence of other gods, drawing from the diverse array of faiths humanity had developed.
Within a few years, Blair and her company stumbled upon compelling evidence while excavating the remains of a Hellenic Temple, where they discovered traces of Demeter's blood. This discovery galvanized the division, convincing them their mission was viable and imperative. In their eyes, the Emperor sought to monopolize authority over all humanity, eliminating anyone or anything that posed a challenge, including benevolent gods.
However, while Blair and Company EX-Ω possessed the evidence, they lacked the expertise to conduct meaningful analysis. "Most of them were uneducated, with barely a grasp of reading or a rudimentary understanding of theology or philosophy."
It wasn't until they encountered Colonel Juli Hapscom that everything changed.
"Colonel Hapscom possesses an extraordinary intellect, though unfortunately, the Imperial Army failed to recognize it," Blair recounted. "She delved deep into the occult, psykers, the warp, and yes, the gods and their devotees." Blair paused, reflecting on Hapscom's unconventional methods. "She faced execution after permitting a group of shamans to conduct ritualistic sacrifices on a band of army criminals and traitors, believing it was an opportunity to alleviate famine and drought by appeasing local deities. I got her out of jail and faked her death."
Under Hapscom's leadership, Exalt underwent a remarkable transformation, evolving from a clandestine sect of soldiers into the formidable organization it is today. The ranks swelled to encompass nearly a hundred million members, comprising scholars of the arcane, renegade scientists, hereteks, shamans, exiled priests, fanatics, witches, and monster hunters drawn from all corners of the galaxy.
Exalt was also exceedingly capable with their strike teams, known as the Hallowed, acting as the invisible hand or knife for the organization. Blair hinted that their strength lay not in biological enhancements like the Werewolves but in the evolution of their minds to withstand the realities of this type of warfare.
"It lets them fight harder than any Solar Auxillia but also lets them slip into any space. The Hallowed managed to steal the blood of Saturn right under the Imperium's noses, even during the Coup," Blair revealed cryptically, refusing to divulge further details.
All that aside, Blair then explained the purpose of Exalt, which began with her explaining why she was doing all of this. It was, in essence, a crisis of personal faith, with Blair describing that life on Cthonia was brutal and harsh and that it only got worse when Horus Lupercal effectively began a "rampage" against the gangs, killing and slaughtering billions that were simply caught in the crossfire, including her family.
Blair admitted that she was only a young girl when this happened and that her only options not to starve were either to sell her body or join the Imperial Army. Deciding to be a victim no longer, Blair joined up but was dismayed to see how much horror and violence the galaxy held.
"Then I saw Lorgar for the first time, and I thought that I was looking upon an angel. He was extraordinary, and his words to anyone who listened were beautiful. I wanted to believe so badly. And I did. Naturally, the galaxy decided to ruin that as well."
She claimed that after the events of Monarchia, when the Emperor cowed Lorgar, Lorgar left Khur and never returned, leaving the cleanup to traumatized people and a disgusted Imperial Army.
"When Company EX-Ω started learning more and more about the divine and all that stuff, I realized that humanity seldom questioned their own divinity or power to be more than whatever was told of them. Yet it became increasingly clear that humanity was at the bottom of the proverbial food chain. So not only were we nothing, but we were either meat for some monster or fodder for a god. I decided that I didn't want us to keep going through this cycle. I wanted to be at the top of the food chain for once. Humanity would call the shots, not under a king or emperor, but because we as a species decided on it.
Ideally, the long-term goal is to remove the Emperor, the Consilium, and the Martian Parliament and install a more democratic government. That, however, is likely not going to happen. It's too much tearing down and not enough building up. On the other hand, the gods can offer us wisdom and their powers to help create new guidelines and institutions. Exalt's plan, my plan, will likely take tens of thousands of years to realize fully, but the laying of its foundation will start in only ten."
That undoubtedly referred to the god summoning. When Lockcraft pressed for more answers, Blair said that first, Lockcraft had to start explaining himself, Ravenloft, their goals, and, more importantly, his connection to the Aeldari and the threat of Chaos.
Lockcraft explained as much as he could without revealing his primary benefactor. He told her that Ravenloft comprised scholars, scientists, skeptics, priests, etc. Its research tries to understand and learn the rules that structure the divine and identify potential dangers to humanity and the galaxy. He spoke of Morningstar, Venus, the Lord of Gears, Cegorach, and other encounters involving Ravenloft.
Describing Chaos was a more exhaustive endeavor, as Lockcraft spared no detail in elucidating its malevolent nature. He likened the Chaos Gods and their daemons to savage apex predators within the warp, tormenting their victims in ways reminiscent of the most ghastly depictions of Hell. The Aeldari and the Emperor had long waged war against Chaos, emphasizing its grave threat.
"The Emperor despises Chaos." Lockcraft emphasized to Blair, "The only other Imperials that hate them more is Kesar Dorlin and his legion."
"Is that another reason you don't want him gone?" Blair sounded inquisitive enough, "Because he safeguards the souls of humanity from this Chaos?"
"It is rather important, yes."
"Hmm," Blair mused before continuing, "Cegorach didn't mention this either."
Sensing an opportunity to steer the conversation away from Ravenloft, Lockcraft swiftly changed the subject. "How did you even come to meet the Laughing God?"
"I stumbled into one of his plays. Or at least, that's what he told me," Blair explained. "He orchestrates these elaborate plays that intertwine with galactic narratives. Somehow, I found myself unwittingly playing a role—a mime, to be precise. I did not understand what was happening, but it amused him greatly."
Lockcraft, while normally perplexed by such descriptions, was well-versed in the enigmatic ways of the Laughing God. "So, you were a silent performer who inadvertently stole the spotlight."
Blair appeared taken aback by the accuracy of Lockcraft's assessment. "Exactly what he told me, too."
"I've grown to understand much about Cegorach's methods," Lockcraft remarked. "But truly comprehending him? That's a task I doubt anyone can claim to have accomplished or would want to have."
Blair seemed amused by Lockcraft's candor. "You don't like him, do you?"
"I've found it difficult to empathize with the gods," Lockcraft admitted. "They're too much like us, and therein lies the problem. They scheme and manipulate people like you and me for their own ends."
Blair nodded in understanding. "I attribute that more to the Aeldari and their nature. They clearly see humans as pawns. But I believe true Terran gods will have more empathy toward mankind."
"I hope you're right," Lockcraft responded. Morningstar was the sole true human god, and while reports suggested he wasn't as manipulative, Lockcraft knew the gods still viewed most mortals as mere pawns. A man might treat his pet like family, but that doesn't prevent him from using tricks.
Sensing the lull in the conversation, especially after hours of back and forth, Lockcraft decided to cut to the chase. "I want to know what you're planning to do now. You've heard enough from me, as I have from you, but it's time you come clean."
As Blair pondered her response, Lockcraft couldn't help but notice the exquisite ring adorning her finger. There was something about it, something unnatural. It wasn't evil or chaotic but possessed a fantastical quality that belied its appearance. He made a mental note to explore this curiosity later, but for now, all focus was on Blair's answer.
"I need you to promise me that what is spoken here will stay in the room," Blair demanded.
Lockcraft shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, but I need to report what is discussed to the founders because I cannot hope to keep this information hidden. I can promise that the contents will only be shared with a select group of individuals trained specifically to keep their mouths shut."
Blair scowled momentarily but then nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine. It's not like I could have made you do otherwise."
With that settled, Blair took a moment to stand and stretch her legs before heading toward the statue of the strange humanoid. Lockcraft watched intently, curious to see what would unfold next.
As Lockcraft approached, he witnessed the statue's remarkable transformation. Its porcelain exterior seemed to pulsate as if it were alive, and then, before his eyes, it began to reshape itself. Human and animal eyes emerged across its surface, surveying the room with a child's curiosity3.
Lockcraft, taken aback by the spectacle, started to rise from his seat, but Blair gestured for him to remain seated. "Don't move. Cornelius doesn't like strangers, and the last thing I want is for him to disappear."
"It has a name?" Lockcraft inquired, astonished. "What exactly is it?"
"A mimic," Blair explained casually, extending her hand toward the creature. "Cornelius, Green Box, Number 3."
At her command, a large tendril of inky blackness emerged from the mimic, holding a green box for Blair. "Thank you, Cornelius," she said gratefully. "You can go back to sleep now."
The creature's myriad eyes seemed to close in unison as it reverted to its inert state, appearing no different from an ordinary statue. "Extraordinary," Lockcraft murmured, awestruck. Spending time with Blair had brought forth a range of emotions from the typically stoic man, and witnessing this mimic capability only added to his sense of wonder. Though, unlike the Skeleton Key or Clint, the mimic was a creation beyond anything Lockcraft had encountered before, a testament to Exalt's ingenuity.
"One of Commander Hapscom's little projects," Blair remarked with a frown as she settled back into her chair behind her desk. "The mimics are created using the bones and matter of creatures we call Godkins," she explained, likely their term for Eidolons. "It's a challenging process, but the outcome is what you just saw: a mobile vault. Their bodies defy all forms of conventional mass conservation. I've seen one take on the form of a Chimera or as small as a cup."
Surprisingly, she didn't sound or look proud of Exalt's accomplishment. "As someone who has seen some pretty impressive things in him, I'd have thought someone like you would feel a bit of pride in your organization's work," Lockcraft asked as he sat back down.
"I am proud," Blair stiffly remarked. The mimics are important to our studies, but they are very unsettling—even more so than you think."
He did admit that the number of eyes looked concerning. "It's because of what they 'naturally' look like. What does a mimic look like when it isn't shapeshifting?"
"...imagine a human fetus if it was stretched to unnatural degrees and made of oil, ink, and flesh." Blair gave a vivid description. "They aren't in pain, and I dare say they are quite happy even just to be alive, but something about the mimics triggers a primordial fear in humans. Commander Hapscom suspects it's a defensive mechanism humans have for entities trying to hide in our environment or pretending to be us."
"I see." Lockcraft could see its logic, but curiously enough, he hadn't felt fear or disgust upon seeing Cornelius, more genuine surprise and awe than anything. "Well, I can safely say then that Exalt is showing its capabilities in more ways than one." Lockcraft wasn't sure how he felt about that, though.
"I will say that they serve as a reminder of the boundaries we're pushing," she remarked. "The unknown can be unsettling, but it's also where true progress lies." Blair cleared her throat. "In any case, the mimics are just one aspect of Exalt's endeavors. We have much more to discuss regarding our shared goals." Holding up the small green box, Blair removed what looked to be a data-chit and inserted it into a node on her desk.
"So, you wanted to know what Exalt has planned?" Blair asked as a small holo-projector appeared above the two of them. "It's simple. I plan to bring forth a god of justice." A display hovered over the desk, allowing Blair and Lockcraft to see without craning their necks.
What Lockcraft saw was both concerning and fascinating. For starters, he didn't see any familiar signs, runes, or symbols associated with any known gods Ravenloft had encountered. If anything, he saw what appeared to be primarily a form of bastardized Low Gothic and what looked to be a Broken Crown and Blackened Book of Laws as the deity's primary iconography.
A single name was repeated throughout this display: Woedica.
"This isn't an old god of Terra," Lockcraft remarked. "It's new, but of today's faithful." The recent discovery of new gods of humanity had started quite a stir among the established faiths of Ravenloft and caused a bit of trouble over the unknown nature.
Blair continued, her tone tinged with intrigue. "Yes, it seems that way. She's depicted as a female figure, a rarity among the pantheons we've encountered."
Lockcraft leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "A female deity... fascinating." There was also a bit of dynamic play regarding male, female, or non-binary deities. Humans always respond differently when speaking with the "father," "mother," or the "stranger."
"Indeed," Blair affirmed. "Exalt discovered her, or her followers, in a remote feudal world known as Adara. Despite the world's challenges—disease, conflict, and a not-so-small population of psykers, mutants, abhumans, and who knows what—she still garnered a significant following."
Blair tapped a button on her desk that caused the projector to switch to a series of images on the screen. "Her influence surged after people from nearly a hundred refugee ships arrived in orbit of Adara and promptly mingled with the locals. I guess they got a taste for her style of justice. Unfortunately, their arrival wasn't exactly serendipitous, even after settling down on Adara. The planet couldn't support ten billion people, so when war eventually consumed this world, that was when people received visions of a burning crown. We, being Exalt, figured the resulting slaughter must have jolted her awake for a brief moment."
"A deathscream." Lockcraft remarked and clarified, "When the faithful, regardless of their affiliation, die enmass, their channeled fears, hopes, and whatever else can empower godseeds or awaken a slumbering godseed."
"Honestly, I think both our organizations will need to trade our lexicons so we can be on the same wavelength when explaining things to each other.'
Blair shook her head, "But your observation fits. This 'deathscream' caused something to take shape and surface. When Exalt operatives finally arrived on Adara, the planet was in the midst of a catastrophe. It took the local Imperial Army to establish order and decency once more. Thankfully, the officers in charge were members of my cadre."
"Lucky you."
"I'm blessed," Blair remarked with a smirk, which actually caused Lockcraft to scoff in amusement. "That said, Adara was kept secret. It never made it back to Segmentum Command, and by the time I started my rebellion, anyone who could have said something was either dead or loyal to me."
"So what exactly surfaced?" Lockcraft inquired, prompting Blair to switch to another series of photos. This time, he saw what appeared to be a hovering sphere crafted from either jade or garnet. It seemed roughly the size of a small building, surrounded by servo-skulls conducting examinations.
Lockcraft recognized it immediately. "It's a Shell similar to the one I mentioned for Venus. They serve as incubators for the godseeds."
"We've been calling it a Chrysalis," Blair remarked. "You're correct; this is what you'd call the Godseed of Woedica. A few weeks after our discovery, Cegorach appeared before me again, confirming its nature and detailing a plan to relocate and awaken her."
"Awaken her, I understand," Lockcraft noted. "But why move her?"
Blair shrugged. "To maximize her power potential from her future faithful. We're relocating her and as much material away from Adara as possible."
"Where exactly?" Lockcraft pressed for specifics, noting Blair's intentional vagueness.
With a smirk, Blair replied, "It's a nameless planet for now. We're planning to christen it Verdica. Currently, my focus lies on managing refugee operations there. Nearly three trillion souls have found sanctuary in the system, with an additional ten trillion residing in the sub-sector. Following my proclamation on Macragge, I anticipate those numbers swelling to twenty, perhaps even twenty-five trillion."
Lockcraft's expression turned grave as he grasped the implications. "You can't be serious. You intend to relocate the Shell to Verdica to harness the prayers and faith of those masses for the godseed."
"Indeed," Blair affirmed. "I estimate that twenty trillion souls should provide ample energy to awaken and empower Woedica, particularly those who have suffered injustices under the Imperium. A deity of justice will then stride upon that world. I'll offer my allegiance to Woedica and, I suppose, undertake the task of training and equipping what will likely amount to a couple trillion newly devout followers."
Lockcraft's concern surged as he grasped the magnitude of Blair's plan. "Blair, you can't go through with this. Do you realize what a god of justice will become if it's fueled by the grievances of an angry multitude? That's not justice."
Blair's confidence wavered under Lockcraft's stern gaze. "Justice can manifest in various forms," she argued. "Many of these refugees have endured oppression, murder, and genocide. They deserve retribution for the crimes inflicted upon them."
Lockcraft's tone sharpened. "But once unleashed, an army of zealots won't discern between innocence and guilt. You'd be unleashing chaos and indiscriminate violence."
Blair's expression softened, revealing a flicker of doubt. "Perhaps... we can implement measures to guide Woedica's actions," she suggested tentatively, grappling with the weight of Lockcraft's warnings.
Lockcraft shook his head firmly. "You're underestimating the autonomy of the divine. Woedica won't remain obedient to your guidance forever. And with her power, the consequences of her actions could be catastrophic."
Blair's resolve wavered further, torn between her vision of justice and the grim reality of the risks involved. "But Cegorach and Venus—"
"Have their own agendas," Lockcraft interjected. "We've seen how they've manipulated us. Trusting them blindly could lead to disaster. We still don't know what they are getting out of this."
Blair fell silent, grappling with the implications of Lockcraft's suggestion. "Then what the hell do you suggest?" she finally asked, her tone tinged with uncertainty.
Lockcraft felt a strange impulse as if a distant voice guided his thoughts. "Shatter the Godseed into multiple aspects," he found himself saying.
Blair's eyes widened in disbelief. "You—what? Is that even possible?" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback by the idea.
"It is," Lockcraft affirmed, though he couldn't quite explain how he knew. "By breaking Woedica's power into multiple minor godseeds, we can reshape their essence. Instead of gods of vengeance, they could embody different facets of justice."
Blair shook her head in skepticism. "Like what? And what good would that do us?" she countered. "You say we can't control one god, but you think we'd have any more luck with half a dozen minor deities?"
Lockcraft remained resolute. "Minor deities are more malleable. With less power, they'd be easier to influence and guide. We could shape them to embody aspects such as Mercy, Suffering, Redemption, Virtue, and others. Each godseed could focus on a specific facet of justice, allowing us to wield their influence more effectively."
Blair appeared puzzled. "But how is that possible? The Chrysalis revolves around the worship of Woedica. Wouldn't that align with our objectives? Once Exalt brings it to Verdica, spreading the concept of her worship should be straightforward. Are you suggesting we must also cultivate faith in multiple other deities across the populace?"
Lockcraft confessed, somewhat sheepishly, "Actually, that's not as difficult to pull off. I pulled off something similar in just a few days. I devised an entire ritual, religious doctrine, and concept to divert the Emperor's scrutiny during the Venus incident."
Blair's surprise was evident. "You devised a plan that thwarted the Emperor?"
"With Cegorach's assistance, yes," Lockcraft admitted. "But I assure you, I can contribute to this endeavor. Ravenloft and Exalt collaborating have the potential to achieve more than you realize."
Though Blair seemed intrigued, her hesitation lingered. "I'm still not comfortable with this. None of your proposals address the inevitable backlash from the Emperor's forces."
Lockcraft probed further, "Is undermining the Emperor your primary objective? Is this merely an act of defiance against him and the Primarchs?"
Blair's glare was sharp. "My focus is solely on aiding humanity. That's all that matters to me now."
"Then recognize that sometimes we must tolerate necessary evils, especially when dealing with the idea of creating gods," Lockcraft responded bluntly. "So yes, unleashing Woedica against the Emperor will only harm humanity and bolster Chaos. Besides, he now safeguards the souls of the deceased, which humanity desperately needs."
Blair's weariness was palpable. "Gods..." she muttered, her frustration evident. "The fact that I'm even entertaining this idea..."
Lockcraft sensed Blair's lingering doubt. "I understand your skepticism. But if you doubt me, ask Cegorach or Venus. They won't fabricate such information, especially if you mention I revealed it. I suspect they kept it from you due to your apparent bias against him."
A faint blush tinged Blair's cheeks, a rare sign of vulnerability. "The fact that I can sense your sincerity only adds to my frustration."
Seeking to regain composure, Blair concluded the discussion: "Regardless, I've already set plans in motion. If you're willing to aid Exalt and me, I need assurance that you and your organization remain committed."
"And I need assurances that you won't betray our trust," Lockcraft countered firmly. "Blair, I genuinely want to assist you, but I can't in good conscience participate in a scheme that I believe is fundamentally flawed and dangerous."
"So, where does that leave us?" Blair pursed her lips, her gaze fixed on Lockcraft with anticipation. "I'm open to considering your compromise, but even with some potential benefits, the drawbacks still outweigh them in my assessment."
Lockcraft attempted one last warning. "Let me offer a different perspective. Summoning a godseed of such immense power carries the risk of catastrophic consequences beyond imagination. Consider this: When Dawnstar, the Shell of the god Morningstar, activated in his realm, it triggered conversion storms that swept across the entire planet, altering its very fabric. Containment or control failure of the Shell during Woedica's awakening could result in a feedback loop that could annihilate everyone on that planet."
Blair contemplated his words before a realization dawned. "But wouldn't attempting to create multiple minor gods pose the same risk?"
Lockcraft shook his head. "No, because the power would be dispersed, diluted among them, reducing the potential for unforeseen consequences or at least severely mitigated ones. Nothing is ever foolproof, as someone of your experience can attest. But the reduction in probability to a potential cascading disaster is necessary."
"So, my choices are to gamble on your plan, risking a vague and potentially weaker outcome, or pursue my own idea, ensuring I face either the worst or best-case scenario," Blair summarized, her expression betraying her dissatisfaction with both options.
Lockcraft sighed, feeling he had exhausted his arguments. "I understand your need for proof, but providing it requires us to agree on a course of action."
Recognizing the deadlock, Blair conceded, her uncertainty evident. "We can't decide here, not just the two of us. It seems we're at an impasse until we gather more information."
"Then what's the next step?" Lockcraft inquired.
Blair contemplated briefly. "Let's convene both our organizations at a neutral location within the next few months. We can discuss and confront Cegorach and Venus together."
"That seems reasonable," Lockcraft concurred. "We can use the Black Library as our meeting place."
Perplexed, Blair questioned, "The Black Library?"
Lockcraft sighed, realizing Cegorach had kept Blair in the dark. "Explaining would take time, but it's essentially a vast repository within the webway, home to the Laughing God and the Aeldari. It serves as a staging ground for their operations."
"I see," Blair replied, absorbing the new information. "Well then, I'll arrange for your return to your people to coordinate everything."
"That's a good start," Lockcraft agreed, feeling the tension between them. "But Blair, I must inform you that if we can't reach an agreement, I can't let you proceed with this plan in good conscience."
Blair's disappointment was palpable. "Cegorach and Venus are fully behind this plan. If you attempt to thwart me, you'll be going against them."
Lockcraft shrugged, unmoved. "So be it. While Ravenloft began as a pursuit of understanding the divine, we cannot stand idly by and allow something as destructive as this to unfold, not now that we're aware of it." Besides, Corvus would undoubtedly want to intervene. Something told Lockcraft that the Aeldari might also have a few pointed questions and words about this arrangement.
Blair's anger flared. "Do you grasp the futility of us warring against each other? We'd squander our resources and time, resources that could be used to aid humanity genuinely. Who would emerge victorious? The Emperor, Chaos, the Aeldari? And who would suffer in the meantime? The rest of us. All because of maybes and potentials."
"Perhaps," Lockcraft conceded, his tone unwavering. "But I refuse to compromise on this. I'd rather sever these ties than participate in creating an army of zealots blindly devoted to a god bent on dispensing mob justice. I've made many difficult decisions, Arabella, hoping they were right. I want to believe you've faced similar dilemmas, but there are lines I cannot allow Ravenloft to cross while I'm part of it."
"What I'm doing here... it's about giving humanity a chance for genuine freedom and empowerment," Blair persisted. "For once, they need to know that someone truly cares."
"You care," Lockcraft countered sharply. "I care. Many ordinary individuals care, even those you seem to disdain. But what you're seeking is vengeance disguised as justice. There are less destructive avenues to pursue." His tone softened as he offered a gentle smile. "You have a compassionate heart, Blair, and a genuine concern for the common people. But your justified or unjustified hatred clouds your judgment and leads you astray."
Blair remained stoic. "I'm prepared to go to any lengths and even sacrifice my life if necessary."
"But are the people on Verdica?" Lockcraft challenged.
Blair was left speechless. Lockcraft shook his head. "It's easy to make grand declarations when you're the one perched atop the tower," he remarked before straightening up. "Perhaps you'll come to realize that. Is there anything else?"
With a scoff, Blair signaled for an escort to take Lockcraft back to his quarters. "I haven't lost sight of what's important to me," she asserted softly. "If you and Ravenloft truly possess the capabilities you claim, you'd be wise to support me."
"I want to," Lockcraft replied earnestly. "If you agree to my proposal, Ravenloft will mobilize all its resources to assist you and Exalt. Otherwise, we'll do everything in our power to stop you."
Rather than showing irritation or anger, Blair appeared almost impressed. "I'm beginning to understand why Cegorach may have favored you, Jonathon," she remarked, using his first name rather unexpectedly.
As his escorts entered the room, Blair glanced at Lockcraft before stating, "I'll give your words and idea careful consideration, Lockcraft. You have my assurance on that." She returned to her work, seemingly indifferent to his presence.
"Right," Lockcraft replied, his tone resigned. He allowed himself to be escorted out, sensing that Blair had cast one last fleeting look his way... as did the mimic. Regardless, Lockcraft had presented his case, and he suspected that Blair would only entertain the notion of compromise as a last resort.
This meant either they would find a way to work together, or it would ultimately turn into a bloodbath between Exalt and Ravenloft. Either way, the next few years weren't going to be simple.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, done with this.
Two weeks after the M-Talk Incident…
Onboard the Battleship, "Hymn of Vitrue."
Reflecting on the events that had transpired, Lockcraft couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret over his initial interaction with Blair. He realized his first interaction with the Lord General could have been more diplomatic. Now, as allies, things were still a bit awkward between the two of them.
Despite this, their escape from Macragge had been remarkably smooth. Due to meticulous planning, a few breaches in orbital security, and the element of surprise, they evaded any pursuit and effectively warped out when a planetary lockdown was declared.
As they journeyed away from Macragge, Blair divulged some details about why the infiltration and extraction had been so successful and attributed most of their success to information provided by Cegorach.
According to Blair, the insufferable deity had revealed that the Alpha Legion, some sort of secretive Space Marine legion, had spent three decades orchestrating the security breach for some potential eventuality against the Ultramarines. However, Cegorach harbored disdain for these Astartes, and Lockcraft was cautioned to use this information judiciously.
Though intrigued by Cegorach's involvement, Lockcraft's primary focus was unraveling Blair's overarching plan. Two weeks after everything had been said and done, he had been effectively placed inside one of the most comfortable rooms on her flagship and left to ponder the situation.
Lockcraft's security detail had been instructed to liaise with the Founders, apprise them of the situation, and ready the Ravenloft for potential action. However, considerable time had elapsed since those orders were issued.
Despite the passage of time, Lockcraft remained unperturbed about his own safety. Blair had shown no inclination towards torturing or interrogating him, actions she could have easily taken by now. Instead, it seemed she was preoccupied with issuing directives following the success of her announcement. Yet, with the Imperium poised to respond, Blair's window for preparation was rapidly narrowing.
Recognizing the situation's urgency, Lockcraft was determined to engage in dialogue with Blair as soon as possible, even though she might not be receptive to conversation.
While waiting for the right opportunity, Lockcraft delved into Blair's wealth of reading material. He meticulously scrutinized the evidence she presented during the M-Talk broadcast, finding it both unsettling and remarkably detailed.
What struck him most was the depth of Blair's research. Evidently, this was not merely a casual pursuit for her; rather, it appeared to result from extensive collaboration with scribes, scholars, and believers. One term, in particular, caught Lockcraft's attention: Exalt. It seemed to denote the efforts of a group affiliated with Blair, akin to Ravenloft's own research division.
However, the extent of its existence and operation remains unclear. How long had Blair been conducting research with this Exalt? Was it something she formed, or did they come to her?
Considering the level of detail he was seeing, it must have been a considerable duration. Notes on "Deiformology" indicate a systematic study of divine life, exploring concepts like Godspores and Godseeds as incipient divine entities and semi-realized divine sapients. This wasn't some ad hoc organization that she had formed with a few scientists and soldiers.
The revelations in the subsequent reports shook Lockcraft to his core, challenging his hypotheses about the possibility of spiritual reconciliation within the Imperium. Blair's perspective diverged sharply from his own, and her access to classified information confirmed a disturbing agenda within the Consilium: a thousand-year plan to systematically eradicate all traces of religious records, depictions, and historical sites across the scope of the Imperium.
The implications were dire. Even with millennia at their disposal, the loss of such profound historical and cultural knowledge would be immeasurable. The resulting upheaval and chaos within the warp threatened to disrupt the return of what Exalt called "Homo Divinus." A strange title to attach to the gods and one that Lockcraft wasn't too keen to use.
Lockcraft realized that Exalt approached the divine from a pragmatic rather than scholarly standpoint, perhaps even a fundamentally military focus. He needed more information about this group. Unfortunately, that meant talking to Blair, and the passage of two weeks had only deepened his sense of urgency and frustration.
Moreover, Lockcraft grappled with the realization that he had underestimated the machinations of Cegorach and Venus, who seemed to be pulling the strings behind the scenes. Their manipulation had unwittingly led to a looming political and cultural catastrophe within the Imperium that Lord Corax would undoubtedly condemn.
But Ravenloft's failure to anticipate and counteract the emergence of something like Exalt was a sobering wake-up call for Lockcraft. He recognized his complacency and arrogance, believing that his organization possessed the only mandate to study such things. This would not do. As he contemplated his return to the Founders, Lockcraft resolved to initiate a comprehensive overhaul of Ravenloft's strategies and operations.
There would be much to do in the coming years.
But for now, Lockcraft's attention was directed towards unraveling Blair's intricate scheme.
As if sensing his need for clarity, Blair appeared to recollect Lockcraft's presence aboard her ship. He received word from one of her diligent aides that a meeting had been scheduled between them, set to commence on the dawn of the 15th day of his stay.
In due course, Lockcraft found himself escorted through the corridors of the Virtue, ultimately arriving at Blair's office. Stepping into the space, he couldn't help but notice the familiar sight of paperwork and documents scattered across the desk and various surfaces. It seemed Blair shared Lockcraft's penchant for meticulous organization amidst the chaos of their respective duties.
Blair's office could be aptly described as a juxtaposition of order and chaos, where the scattered parcels and objects reflected her nature. It exuded an air of purposeful disarray, the type found in some military camps counter to the "disciplined" image the Imperial Army claimed. Lockcraft could see stacks of reports and documents arranged haphazardly on her desk and various surfaces.
What stood out to him was the scattered religious artifacts and texts amid all the clutter, hinting at Blair's interest in spirituality and the divine. A sculpture of some strange humanoid figure added to the eclectic atmosphere of the room. Despite the apparent disorder, there was a feeling of determination and reverence. This was her chapel.
"I apologize for the wait," Blair said, her attention still fixed on the document before her. "But I'm sure you can understand that what I am doing requires considerable work and attention on my part." She made a small idle gesture for Lockcraft to take a seat.
Lockcraft approached and noted with some amusement at a stack of reports sitting off to the side of his chair. It seemed that those documents had been the prior recipients of this seat. As he sat, he waited patiently for Blair to start. It was better to let her do most of the talking while he tried asking more questions to fish for answers.
Completing her current report, Blair sighed, her weariness mirroring Lockcraft's own during a few late nights at his office. "I suppose I need to set a few things straight. This, let's call it an alliance, will end once you and your organization contribute to a level I deem satisfactory or otherwise. After that, our business is done."
Already, Blair was attempting to establish a unilateral dynamic. "Just because I am willing to offer my organization's services to you doesn't mean that you can dictate all the terms of this 'alliance,' Blair."
"You offered your services to me, Lockcraft," Blair countered, her tone firm. "I never asked for your help because I don't need it."
"You do need it," Lockcraft argued before reconsidering his approach. "Let me try this from a different angle: you are attempting to summon forth a godseed into this realm, what you refer to as semi-realized divine sapients, a term which, incidentally, is quite a mouthful. I can say with absolute certainty that if any aspect of this ritual goes awry, the consequences will be dire."
"I'm well aware of the potential fallout," Blair said, her curiosity piqued. "And you are as well? What exactly has your organization gotten into, Mr. Lockcraft? Better yet, what makes you an authority in this matter?"
Lockcraft settled into his seat, adopting a relaxed posture to appear forthcoming. "The organization I am part of has delved into matters concerning the divine and conducted extensive research on them. One of our achievements was facilitating Venus's manifestation into this realm, a task in which I played a role." His tone remained matter-of-fact, devoid of any hint of arrogance.
Blair's reaction betrayed surprise. "Is that right... Venus never mentioned such an organization in passing..." She appeared slightly perturbed.
"Of course she didn't," Lockcraft replied with a faint frown. "They are playing us both. She and Cegorach are colluding for one reason or another. I knew something was wrong when my appearance on M-Talk was rescheduled nearly a month in advance, which ensured my presence at the studio that night."
"Hmm." Blair's expression soured. "That does sound like Cegorach. But you claim to have helped bring Venus into this realm. How exactly did you accomplish that?"
"We conducted a series of rituals that coincided with several major events, such as the chaos that unfolded on the planet bearing her name during the Wargames before the Coup on Terra. There was also an extraction team that secured the Shell of Venus, and through a series of what I can only call favorable cosmic dice rolls, she was able to resurrect into this realm."
While Lockcraft revealed more than he would have liked, this information gave him more credibility, as Blair regarded him with newfound interest. "Truly? Your organization did all of that?"
"My organization boasts numerous powerful assets and benefactors, including the Aeldari," Lockcraft admitted. "We are known as Ravenloft. I am one of its founders and, I suppose, its chief ritualist if we're assigning titles and responsibilities."
"Ravenloft..." Blair tested the name. "And what does Ravenloft do?"
"We study the divine," Lockcraft explained. "Our goal is to understand its nature, discern its intentions for humanity, and, ultimately, ensure that the gods become allies to all life upon their return."
Blair scoffed at his assertion. "Nowhere does it sound like you intend to eliminate them if they become a threat."
"Removing a god is neither simple nor definitive unless Chaos is involved," Lockcraft clarified. "But by that point, the situation would have escalated to a dire state for the galaxy."
"Chaos?" Blair's interest was piqued. "I've not yet heard that term."
Lockcraft was taken aback. "Are you serious?! You've been delving into matters concerning the divine without understanding what Chaos is? What about daemons? And why haven't Cegorach or Venus informed you?"
For a moment, Blair appeared equally frustrated and humiliated by her oversight. "Neither of them mentioned any such group or things like daemons."
"It's not a conventional group, per se," Lockcraft clarified. "Chaos is what the Aeldari refer to as the Great Enemy. It's a corruptive force that has likely existed within the warp for eons. It feeds on souls—humans, planets, and even gods are not exempt. Their power, particularly that of the Archdaemons and their Exalted, surpasses that of most mortal creatures, demigods, and even some gods now."
Blair seemed to take this information seriously, jotting down notes before fixing Lockcraft with an expectant gaze. "Alright, you've made your point," she conceded. Pausing, she regarded him with newfound consideration. "Clearly, you're privy to information that has been kept from me and my forces, and I suppose your services would be considered a red-letter day for me."
"I would hope so!" Lockcraft remarked with a frown, "Because you sought to summon a god without this knowledge," Lockcraft pointed out firmly, unwilling to overlook the potential consequences of Blair's oversight. "So yes, this cannot be a one-sided arrangement while offering my services."
Blair's frustration was evident, but she maintained her composure, refraining from making any inflammatory remarks. "Why don't we just lay all our cards on the table here?" she suggested, her gaze fixed on Lockcraft as she prepared to negotiate. "I'll share what I know, you share what you know, and together, we can outline the extent of our capabilities."
"Agreed," Lockcraft replied, determined to extract the necessary information from Blair. "But first, I have a few questions. I want to understand the purpose of your organization, Exalt, and, more importantly, what you're planning to do."
Blair considered his inquiries before activating her intercom to request refreshments. "That... will require some time to explain," she admitted, acknowledging the situation. "But it seems we have nothing but time at the moment."
Six hours later…
One couldn't possibly cover the vast scope of an endeavor that originated decades ago and has since burgeoned into a sprawling conspiracy spanning thousands of worlds, orchestrated by none other than Exalt or by its more formal moniker, Company EX-Ω.
"Exalt became the shorthand among our founding members," Blair elucidated, commencing her explanation. "It encapsulates the exaltation of humanity, a grand set of beliefs." Lockcraft nodded in agreement, acknowledging the monumental scale of their operations.
Company EX-Ω's genesis stemmed from the aftermath of the events on Monarchia. Blair, along with countless disillusioned soldiers of the Imperial Army, rallied behind her cause after she presented recovered notes and tomes of Lorgar. Yet rather than espousing the Primarch's belief that the Emperor was a deity, Blair posited the existence of other gods, drawing from the diverse array of faiths humanity had developed.
Within a few years, Blair and her company stumbled upon compelling evidence while excavating the remains of a Hellenic Temple, where they discovered traces of Demeter's blood. This discovery galvanized the division, convincing them their mission was viable and imperative. In their eyes, the Emperor sought to monopolize authority over all humanity, eliminating anyone or anything that posed a challenge, including benevolent gods.
However, while Blair and Company EX-Ω possessed the evidence, they lacked the expertise to conduct meaningful analysis. "Most of them were uneducated, with barely a grasp of reading or a rudimentary understanding of theology or philosophy."
It wasn't until they encountered Colonel Juli Hapscom that everything changed.
"Colonel Hapscom possesses an extraordinary intellect, though unfortunately, the Imperial Army failed to recognize it," Blair recounted. "She delved deep into the occult, psykers, the warp, and yes, the gods and their devotees." Blair paused, reflecting on Hapscom's unconventional methods. "She faced execution after permitting a group of shamans to conduct ritualistic sacrifices on a band of army criminals and traitors, believing it was an opportunity to alleviate famine and drought by appeasing local deities. I got her out of jail and faked her death."
Under Hapscom's leadership, Exalt underwent a remarkable transformation, evolving from a clandestine sect of soldiers into the formidable organization it is today. The ranks swelled to encompass nearly a hundred million members, comprising scholars of the arcane, renegade scientists, hereteks, shamans, exiled priests, fanatics, witches, and monster hunters drawn from all corners of the galaxy.
Exalt was also exceedingly capable with their strike teams, known as the Hallowed, acting as the invisible hand or knife for the organization. Blair hinted that their strength lay not in biological enhancements like the Werewolves but in the evolution of their minds to withstand the realities of this type of warfare.
"It lets them fight harder than any Solar Auxillia but also lets them slip into any space. The Hallowed managed to steal the blood of Saturn right under the Imperium's noses, even during the Coup," Blair revealed cryptically, refusing to divulge further details.
All that aside, Blair then explained the purpose of Exalt, which began with her explaining why she was doing all of this. It was, in essence, a crisis of personal faith, with Blair describing that life on Cthonia was brutal and harsh and that it only got worse when Horus Lupercal effectively began a "rampage" against the gangs, killing and slaughtering billions that were simply caught in the crossfire, including her family.
Blair admitted that she was only a young girl when this happened and that her only options not to starve were either to sell her body or join the Imperial Army. Deciding to be a victim no longer, Blair joined up but was dismayed to see how much horror and violence the galaxy held.
"Then I saw Lorgar for the first time, and I thought that I was looking upon an angel. He was extraordinary, and his words to anyone who listened were beautiful. I wanted to believe so badly. And I did. Naturally, the galaxy decided to ruin that as well."
She claimed that after the events of Monarchia, when the Emperor cowed Lorgar, Lorgar left Khur and never returned, leaving the cleanup to traumatized people and a disgusted Imperial Army.
"When Company EX-Ω started learning more and more about the divine and all that stuff, I realized that humanity seldom questioned their own divinity or power to be more than whatever was told of them. Yet it became increasingly clear that humanity was at the bottom of the proverbial food chain. So not only were we nothing, but we were either meat for some monster or fodder for a god. I decided that I didn't want us to keep going through this cycle. I wanted to be at the top of the food chain for once. Humanity would call the shots, not under a king or emperor, but because we as a species decided on it.
Ideally, the long-term goal is to remove the Emperor, the Consilium, and the Martian Parliament and install a more democratic government. That, however, is likely not going to happen. It's too much tearing down and not enough building up. On the other hand, the gods can offer us wisdom and their powers to help create new guidelines and institutions. Exalt's plan, my plan, will likely take tens of thousands of years to realize fully, but the laying of its foundation will start in only ten."
That undoubtedly referred to the god summoning. When Lockcraft pressed for more answers, Blair said that first, Lockcraft had to start explaining himself, Ravenloft, their goals, and, more importantly, his connection to the Aeldari and the threat of Chaos.
Lockcraft explained as much as he could without revealing his primary benefactor. He told her that Ravenloft comprised scholars, scientists, skeptics, priests, etc. Its research tries to understand and learn the rules that structure the divine and identify potential dangers to humanity and the galaxy. He spoke of Morningstar, Venus, the Lord of Gears, Cegorach, and other encounters involving Ravenloft.
Describing Chaos was a more exhaustive endeavor, as Lockcraft spared no detail in elucidating its malevolent nature. He likened the Chaos Gods and their daemons to savage apex predators within the warp, tormenting their victims in ways reminiscent of the most ghastly depictions of Hell. The Aeldari and the Emperor had long waged war against Chaos, emphasizing its grave threat.
"The Emperor despises Chaos." Lockcraft emphasized to Blair, "The only other Imperials that hate them more is Kesar Dorlin and his legion."
"Is that another reason you don't want him gone?" Blair sounded inquisitive enough, "Because he safeguards the souls of humanity from this Chaos?"
"It is rather important, yes."
"Hmm," Blair mused before continuing, "Cegorach didn't mention this either."
Sensing an opportunity to steer the conversation away from Ravenloft, Lockcraft swiftly changed the subject. "How did you even come to meet the Laughing God?"
"I stumbled into one of his plays. Or at least, that's what he told me," Blair explained. "He orchestrates these elaborate plays that intertwine with galactic narratives. Somehow, I found myself unwittingly playing a role—a mime, to be precise. I did not understand what was happening, but it amused him greatly."
Lockcraft, while normally perplexed by such descriptions, was well-versed in the enigmatic ways of the Laughing God. "So, you were a silent performer who inadvertently stole the spotlight."
Blair appeared taken aback by the accuracy of Lockcraft's assessment. "Exactly what he told me, too."
"I've grown to understand much about Cegorach's methods," Lockcraft remarked. "But truly comprehending him? That's a task I doubt anyone can claim to have accomplished or would want to have."
Blair seemed amused by Lockcraft's candor. "You don't like him, do you?"
"I've found it difficult to empathize with the gods," Lockcraft admitted. "They're too much like us, and therein lies the problem. They scheme and manipulate people like you and me for their own ends."
Blair nodded in understanding. "I attribute that more to the Aeldari and their nature. They clearly see humans as pawns. But I believe true Terran gods will have more empathy toward mankind."
"I hope you're right," Lockcraft responded. Morningstar was the sole true human god, and while reports suggested he wasn't as manipulative, Lockcraft knew the gods still viewed most mortals as mere pawns. A man might treat his pet like family, but that doesn't prevent him from using tricks.
Sensing the lull in the conversation, especially after hours of back and forth, Lockcraft decided to cut to the chase. "I want to know what you're planning to do now. You've heard enough from me, as I have from you, but it's time you come clean."
As Blair pondered her response, Lockcraft couldn't help but notice the exquisite ring adorning her finger. There was something about it, something unnatural. It wasn't evil or chaotic but possessed a fantastical quality that belied its appearance. He made a mental note to explore this curiosity later, but for now, all focus was on Blair's answer.
"I need you to promise me that what is spoken here will stay in the room," Blair demanded.
Lockcraft shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, but I need to report what is discussed to the founders because I cannot hope to keep this information hidden. I can promise that the contents will only be shared with a select group of individuals trained specifically to keep their mouths shut."
Blair scowled momentarily but then nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine. It's not like I could have made you do otherwise."
With that settled, Blair took a moment to stand and stretch her legs before heading toward the statue of the strange humanoid. Lockcraft watched intently, curious to see what would unfold next.
As Lockcraft approached, he witnessed the statue's remarkable transformation. Its porcelain exterior seemed to pulsate as if it were alive, and then, before his eyes, it began to reshape itself. Human and animal eyes emerged across its surface, surveying the room with a child's curiosity3.
Lockcraft, taken aback by the spectacle, started to rise from his seat, but Blair gestured for him to remain seated. "Don't move. Cornelius doesn't like strangers, and the last thing I want is for him to disappear."
"It has a name?" Lockcraft inquired, astonished. "What exactly is it?"
"A mimic," Blair explained casually, extending her hand toward the creature. "Cornelius, Green Box, Number 3."
At her command, a large tendril of inky blackness emerged from the mimic, holding a green box for Blair. "Thank you, Cornelius," she said gratefully. "You can go back to sleep now."
The creature's myriad eyes seemed to close in unison as it reverted to its inert state, appearing no different from an ordinary statue. "Extraordinary," Lockcraft murmured, awestruck. Spending time with Blair had brought forth a range of emotions from the typically stoic man, and witnessing this mimic capability only added to his sense of wonder. Though, unlike the Skeleton Key or Clint, the mimic was a creation beyond anything Lockcraft had encountered before, a testament to Exalt's ingenuity.
"One of Commander Hapscom's little projects," Blair remarked with a frown as she settled back into her chair behind her desk. "The mimics are created using the bones and matter of creatures we call Godkins," she explained, likely their term for Eidolons. "It's a challenging process, but the outcome is what you just saw: a mobile vault. Their bodies defy all forms of conventional mass conservation. I've seen one take on the form of a Chimera or as small as a cup."
Surprisingly, she didn't sound or look proud of Exalt's accomplishment. "As someone who has seen some pretty impressive things in him, I'd have thought someone like you would feel a bit of pride in your organization's work," Lockcraft asked as he sat back down.
"I am proud," Blair stiffly remarked. The mimics are important to our studies, but they are very unsettling—even more so than you think."
He did admit that the number of eyes looked concerning. "It's because of what they 'naturally' look like. What does a mimic look like when it isn't shapeshifting?"
"...imagine a human fetus if it was stretched to unnatural degrees and made of oil, ink, and flesh." Blair gave a vivid description. "They aren't in pain, and I dare say they are quite happy even just to be alive, but something about the mimics triggers a primordial fear in humans. Commander Hapscom suspects it's a defensive mechanism humans have for entities trying to hide in our environment or pretending to be us."
"I see." Lockcraft could see its logic, but curiously enough, he hadn't felt fear or disgust upon seeing Cornelius, more genuine surprise and awe than anything. "Well, I can safely say then that Exalt is showing its capabilities in more ways than one." Lockcraft wasn't sure how he felt about that, though.
"I will say that they serve as a reminder of the boundaries we're pushing," she remarked. "The unknown can be unsettling, but it's also where true progress lies." Blair cleared her throat. "In any case, the mimics are just one aspect of Exalt's endeavors. We have much more to discuss regarding our shared goals." Holding up the small green box, Blair removed what looked to be a data-chit and inserted it into a node on her desk.
"So, you wanted to know what Exalt has planned?" Blair asked as a small holo-projector appeared above the two of them. "It's simple. I plan to bring forth a god of justice." A display hovered over the desk, allowing Blair and Lockcraft to see without craning their necks.
What Lockcraft saw was both concerning and fascinating. For starters, he didn't see any familiar signs, runes, or symbols associated with any known gods Ravenloft had encountered. If anything, he saw what appeared to be primarily a form of bastardized Low Gothic and what looked to be a Broken Crown and Blackened Book of Laws as the deity's primary iconography.
A single name was repeated throughout this display: Woedica.
"This isn't an old god of Terra," Lockcraft remarked. "It's new, but of today's faithful." The recent discovery of new gods of humanity had started quite a stir among the established faiths of Ravenloft and caused a bit of trouble over the unknown nature.
Blair continued, her tone tinged with intrigue. "Yes, it seems that way. She's depicted as a female figure, a rarity among the pantheons we've encountered."
Lockcraft leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "A female deity... fascinating." There was also a bit of dynamic play regarding male, female, or non-binary deities. Humans always respond differently when speaking with the "father," "mother," or the "stranger."
"Indeed," Blair affirmed. "Exalt discovered her, or her followers, in a remote feudal world known as Adara. Despite the world's challenges—disease, conflict, and a not-so-small population of psykers, mutants, abhumans, and who knows what—she still garnered a significant following."
Blair tapped a button on her desk that caused the projector to switch to a series of images on the screen. "Her influence surged after people from nearly a hundred refugee ships arrived in orbit of Adara and promptly mingled with the locals. I guess they got a taste for her style of justice. Unfortunately, their arrival wasn't exactly serendipitous, even after settling down on Adara. The planet couldn't support ten billion people, so when war eventually consumed this world, that was when people received visions of a burning crown. We, being Exalt, figured the resulting slaughter must have jolted her awake for a brief moment."
"A deathscream." Lockcraft remarked and clarified, "When the faithful, regardless of their affiliation, die enmass, their channeled fears, hopes, and whatever else can empower godseeds or awaken a slumbering godseed."
"Honestly, I think both our organizations will need to trade our lexicons so we can be on the same wavelength when explaining things to each other.'
Blair shook her head, "But your observation fits. This 'deathscream' caused something to take shape and surface. When Exalt operatives finally arrived on Adara, the planet was in the midst of a catastrophe. It took the local Imperial Army to establish order and decency once more. Thankfully, the officers in charge were members of my cadre."
"Lucky you."
"I'm blessed," Blair remarked with a smirk, which actually caused Lockcraft to scoff in amusement. "That said, Adara was kept secret. It never made it back to Segmentum Command, and by the time I started my rebellion, anyone who could have said something was either dead or loyal to me."
"So what exactly surfaced?" Lockcraft inquired, prompting Blair to switch to another series of photos. This time, he saw what appeared to be a hovering sphere crafted from either jade or garnet. It seemed roughly the size of a small building, surrounded by servo-skulls conducting examinations.
Lockcraft recognized it immediately. "It's a Shell similar to the one I mentioned for Venus. They serve as incubators for the godseeds."
"We've been calling it a Chrysalis," Blair remarked. "You're correct; this is what you'd call the Godseed of Woedica. A few weeks after our discovery, Cegorach appeared before me again, confirming its nature and detailing a plan to relocate and awaken her."
"Awaken her, I understand," Lockcraft noted. "But why move her?"
Blair shrugged. "To maximize her power potential from her future faithful. We're relocating her and as much material away from Adara as possible."
"Where exactly?" Lockcraft pressed for specifics, noting Blair's intentional vagueness.
With a smirk, Blair replied, "It's a nameless planet for now. We're planning to christen it Verdica. Currently, my focus lies on managing refugee operations there. Nearly three trillion souls have found sanctuary in the system, with an additional ten trillion residing in the sub-sector. Following my proclamation on Macragge, I anticipate those numbers swelling to twenty, perhaps even twenty-five trillion."
Lockcraft's expression turned grave as he grasped the implications. "You can't be serious. You intend to relocate the Shell to Verdica to harness the prayers and faith of those masses for the godseed."
"Indeed," Blair affirmed. "I estimate that twenty trillion souls should provide ample energy to awaken and empower Woedica, particularly those who have suffered injustices under the Imperium. A deity of justice will then stride upon that world. I'll offer my allegiance to Woedica and, I suppose, undertake the task of training and equipping what will likely amount to a couple trillion newly devout followers."
Lockcraft's concern surged as he grasped the magnitude of Blair's plan. "Blair, you can't go through with this. Do you realize what a god of justice will become if it's fueled by the grievances of an angry multitude? That's not justice."
Blair's confidence wavered under Lockcraft's stern gaze. "Justice can manifest in various forms," she argued. "Many of these refugees have endured oppression, murder, and genocide. They deserve retribution for the crimes inflicted upon them."
Lockcraft's tone sharpened. "But once unleashed, an army of zealots won't discern between innocence and guilt. You'd be unleashing chaos and indiscriminate violence."
Blair's expression softened, revealing a flicker of doubt. "Perhaps... we can implement measures to guide Woedica's actions," she suggested tentatively, grappling with the weight of Lockcraft's warnings.
Lockcraft shook his head firmly. "You're underestimating the autonomy of the divine. Woedica won't remain obedient to your guidance forever. And with her power, the consequences of her actions could be catastrophic."
Blair's resolve wavered further, torn between her vision of justice and the grim reality of the risks involved. "But Cegorach and Venus—"
"Have their own agendas," Lockcraft interjected. "We've seen how they've manipulated us. Trusting them blindly could lead to disaster. We still don't know what they are getting out of this."
Blair fell silent, grappling with the implications of Lockcraft's suggestion. "Then what the hell do you suggest?" she finally asked, her tone tinged with uncertainty.
Lockcraft felt a strange impulse as if a distant voice guided his thoughts. "Shatter the Godseed into multiple aspects," he found himself saying.
Blair's eyes widened in disbelief. "You—what? Is that even possible?" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback by the idea.
"It is," Lockcraft affirmed, though he couldn't quite explain how he knew. "By breaking Woedica's power into multiple minor godseeds, we can reshape their essence. Instead of gods of vengeance, they could embody different facets of justice."
Blair shook her head in skepticism. "Like what? And what good would that do us?" she countered. "You say we can't control one god, but you think we'd have any more luck with half a dozen minor deities?"
Lockcraft remained resolute. "Minor deities are more malleable. With less power, they'd be easier to influence and guide. We could shape them to embody aspects such as Mercy, Suffering, Redemption, Virtue, and others. Each godseed could focus on a specific facet of justice, allowing us to wield their influence more effectively."
Blair appeared puzzled. "But how is that possible? The Chrysalis revolves around the worship of Woedica. Wouldn't that align with our objectives? Once Exalt brings it to Verdica, spreading the concept of her worship should be straightforward. Are you suggesting we must also cultivate faith in multiple other deities across the populace?"
Lockcraft confessed, somewhat sheepishly, "Actually, that's not as difficult to pull off. I pulled off something similar in just a few days. I devised an entire ritual, religious doctrine, and concept to divert the Emperor's scrutiny during the Venus incident."
Blair's surprise was evident. "You devised a plan that thwarted the Emperor?"
"With Cegorach's assistance, yes," Lockcraft admitted. "But I assure you, I can contribute to this endeavor. Ravenloft and Exalt collaborating have the potential to achieve more than you realize."
Though Blair seemed intrigued, her hesitation lingered. "I'm still not comfortable with this. None of your proposals address the inevitable backlash from the Emperor's forces."
Lockcraft probed further, "Is undermining the Emperor your primary objective? Is this merely an act of defiance against him and the Primarchs?"
Blair's glare was sharp. "My focus is solely on aiding humanity. That's all that matters to me now."
"Then recognize that sometimes we must tolerate necessary evils, especially when dealing with the idea of creating gods," Lockcraft responded bluntly. "So yes, unleashing Woedica against the Emperor will only harm humanity and bolster Chaos. Besides, he now safeguards the souls of the deceased, which humanity desperately needs."
Blair's weariness was palpable. "Gods..." she muttered, her frustration evident. "The fact that I'm even entertaining this idea..."
Lockcraft sensed Blair's lingering doubt. "I understand your skepticism. But if you doubt me, ask Cegorach or Venus. They won't fabricate such information, especially if you mention I revealed it. I suspect they kept it from you due to your apparent bias against him."
A faint blush tinged Blair's cheeks, a rare sign of vulnerability. "The fact that I can sense your sincerity only adds to my frustration."
Seeking to regain composure, Blair concluded the discussion: "Regardless, I've already set plans in motion. If you're willing to aid Exalt and me, I need assurance that you and your organization remain committed."
"And I need assurances that you won't betray our trust," Lockcraft countered firmly. "Blair, I genuinely want to assist you, but I can't in good conscience participate in a scheme that I believe is fundamentally flawed and dangerous."
"So, where does that leave us?" Blair pursed her lips, her gaze fixed on Lockcraft with anticipation. "I'm open to considering your compromise, but even with some potential benefits, the drawbacks still outweigh them in my assessment."
Lockcraft attempted one last warning. "Let me offer a different perspective. Summoning a godseed of such immense power carries the risk of catastrophic consequences beyond imagination. Consider this: When Dawnstar, the Shell of the god Morningstar, activated in his realm, it triggered conversion storms that swept across the entire planet, altering its very fabric. Containment or control failure of the Shell during Woedica's awakening could result in a feedback loop that could annihilate everyone on that planet."
Blair contemplated his words before a realization dawned. "But wouldn't attempting to create multiple minor gods pose the same risk?"
Lockcraft shook his head. "No, because the power would be dispersed, diluted among them, reducing the potential for unforeseen consequences or at least severely mitigated ones. Nothing is ever foolproof, as someone of your experience can attest. But the reduction in probability to a potential cascading disaster is necessary."
"So, my choices are to gamble on your plan, risking a vague and potentially weaker outcome, or pursue my own idea, ensuring I face either the worst or best-case scenario," Blair summarized, her expression betraying her dissatisfaction with both options.
Lockcraft sighed, feeling he had exhausted his arguments. "I understand your need for proof, but providing it requires us to agree on a course of action."
Recognizing the deadlock, Blair conceded, her uncertainty evident. "We can't decide here, not just the two of us. It seems we're at an impasse until we gather more information."
"Then what's the next step?" Lockcraft inquired.
Blair contemplated briefly. "Let's convene both our organizations at a neutral location within the next few months. We can discuss and confront Cegorach and Venus together."
"That seems reasonable," Lockcraft concurred. "We can use the Black Library as our meeting place."
Perplexed, Blair questioned, "The Black Library?"
Lockcraft sighed, realizing Cegorach had kept Blair in the dark. "Explaining would take time, but it's essentially a vast repository within the webway, home to the Laughing God and the Aeldari. It serves as a staging ground for their operations."
"I see," Blair replied, absorbing the new information. "Well then, I'll arrange for your return to your people to coordinate everything."
"That's a good start," Lockcraft agreed, feeling the tension between them. "But Blair, I must inform you that if we can't reach an agreement, I can't let you proceed with this plan in good conscience."
Blair's disappointment was palpable. "Cegorach and Venus are fully behind this plan. If you attempt to thwart me, you'll be going against them."
Lockcraft shrugged, unmoved. "So be it. While Ravenloft began as a pursuit of understanding the divine, we cannot stand idly by and allow something as destructive as this to unfold, not now that we're aware of it." Besides, Corvus would undoubtedly want to intervene. Something told Lockcraft that the Aeldari might also have a few pointed questions and words about this arrangement.
Blair's anger flared. "Do you grasp the futility of us warring against each other? We'd squander our resources and time, resources that could be used to aid humanity genuinely. Who would emerge victorious? The Emperor, Chaos, the Aeldari? And who would suffer in the meantime? The rest of us. All because of maybes and potentials."
"Perhaps," Lockcraft conceded, his tone unwavering. "But I refuse to compromise on this. I'd rather sever these ties than participate in creating an army of zealots blindly devoted to a god bent on dispensing mob justice. I've made many difficult decisions, Arabella, hoping they were right. I want to believe you've faced similar dilemmas, but there are lines I cannot allow Ravenloft to cross while I'm part of it."
"What I'm doing here... it's about giving humanity a chance for genuine freedom and empowerment," Blair persisted. "For once, they need to know that someone truly cares."
"You care," Lockcraft countered sharply. "I care. Many ordinary individuals care, even those you seem to disdain. But what you're seeking is vengeance disguised as justice. There are less destructive avenues to pursue." His tone softened as he offered a gentle smile. "You have a compassionate heart, Blair, and a genuine concern for the common people. But your justified or unjustified hatred clouds your judgment and leads you astray."
Blair remained stoic. "I'm prepared to go to any lengths and even sacrifice my life if necessary."
"But are the people on Verdica?" Lockcraft challenged.
Blair was left speechless. Lockcraft shook his head. "It's easy to make grand declarations when you're the one perched atop the tower," he remarked before straightening up. "Perhaps you'll come to realize that. Is there anything else?"
With a scoff, Blair signaled for an escort to take Lockcraft back to his quarters. "I haven't lost sight of what's important to me," she asserted softly. "If you and Ravenloft truly possess the capabilities you claim, you'd be wise to support me."
"I want to," Lockcraft replied earnestly. "If you agree to my proposal, Ravenloft will mobilize all its resources to assist you and Exalt. Otherwise, we'll do everything in our power to stop you."
Rather than showing irritation or anger, Blair appeared almost impressed. "I'm beginning to understand why Cegorach may have favored you, Jonathon," she remarked, using his first name rather unexpectedly.
As his escorts entered the room, Blair glanced at Lockcraft before stating, "I'll give your words and idea careful consideration, Lockcraft. You have my assurance on that." She returned to her work, seemingly indifferent to his presence.
"Right," Lockcraft replied, his tone resigned. He allowed himself to be escorted out, sensing that Blair had cast one last fleeting look his way... as did the mimic. Regardless, Lockcraft had presented his case, and he suspected that Blair would only entertain the notion of compromise as a last resort.
This meant either they would find a way to work together, or it would ultimately turn into a bloodbath between Exalt and Ravenloft. Either way, the next few years weren't going to be simple.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, done with this.
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Alright, quick tl;dr: Blair and Lockcraft basically argued over the nature of Blair's plot to bring about a God of Justice, Woedica (of Pillars of Eternity lore) who would effectively be empowered by tens of trillions of angry, scared, and bitter people against the Imperium and the Emperor, to which Lockcraft said "That is a terrible idea" and offered a solution by creating what amounts to a pantheon of lesser gods instead so they can be easier to guide and control. Cegorach and Venus intentionally withheld vital information from Blair, likely to see how she'd react, and meanwhile, the primary plan now is for Exalt and Ravenloft to arrange a sitdown to work out something.
A Mutal Union (Must Read)
A Mutal Union
Macragge, one year after the Masquerade End…
As one of the most prosperous and stable worlds in the Imperium of Man and the homeworld of Roboute Guilliman, Macragge stood as a beacon of order and security. The mere thought of its descent into anarchy left many bewildered, prompting them to consider how distant the rest of the Imperium was from such turmoil.
The aftermath of what some dubbed the Masquerade's End plunged Macragge into chaos during its initial months. Fortunately, this tumultuous period wasn't characterized by self-inflicted harm but rather by a fervent demand for answers from the confused and somewhat terrified people of Macragge.
Protests erupted across the planet, with elements of the Arbites and civil government uniting in solidarity with the people. While a few riots flared up, they were swiftly quelled by level-headed militias and PDF companies. No one wanted to storm the capital or engage in the act of rebellion, at least not yet, but something had to be said and done by the Primarch.
While many expected the Astartes to intervene and quell the unrest, they were instead tasked with a weightier responsibility: safeguarding Macragge's security and uncovering the intricacies of Blair and her forces' orchestration of the Masquerade's End and their subsequent escape from the planet.
The investigation into Macragge's infiltration unveiled a troubling reality: an intrusion access point had been clandestinely established within the defense grid, rendering the capital vulnerable and exposed. The findings of the Vigil Operatii confirmed this unsettling revelation. What perplexed the Ultramarines was the discovery of a breach seemingly made decades earlier.
Despite the confusion, the urgency demanded resolution, and Tarasha Euten was given the mantle of responsibility in this unfolding crisis. Amidst the chaos, she devoted herself to engaging with diplomats from worlds within the Realm of Ultramar, providing insight into the unfolding events and disseminating crucial information.
It didn't take long for neighboring worlds to obtain copies of the M-Talk episode that ignited the crisis. Despite efforts from Macragge to suppress it, the episode had already proliferated, with potentially hundreds of thousands of copies in circulation and spreading rapidly among citizens. With the momentum unstoppable, the focus shifted to mitigating the fallout. Damage control became paramount. By the third month, it became exceedingly clear that aside from answers, the people now wanted one more thing: the right to worship.
However, granting such liberties sparked vehement dissent among the gathered diplomats and governors. The Imperium of Man, known for its strict stance against public or clandestine religious practices, was not to be defied lightly. Yet, proponents argued that Terra's response would be tempered, given the significant financial influence the Realm of Ultramar wielded.
Ultimately, Legatus Baelsar championed the cause, urging Ultramar's lords to sanction religious freedoms. His rationale was pragmatic: the turmoil threatened to stagnate the economy. 'As it stands,' he reasoned, 'our primary advantage to forestall Terra's intervention is perilously close to collapse. Productivity has plummeted, commerce is paralyzed, and essential goods languish unused. If appeasing the populace with their desired faith is the solution, then controlling its dissemination is our best course.'
Several weeks later, Seneschal Euten issued a decree announcing the authorization of select faiths to establish temples and other places of worship across Ultramar. Newly appointed religious leaders collaborated with the government, and by the ninth month following the onset of the Masquerade's End, a fragile tranquility began to return to the Realm of Ultramar as a whole.
As the year drew to a close, Macragge, and thus the Realm of Ultramar, was restored to peace and prosperity. Across the realm, many places of worship emerged, drawing congregations numbering in the millions as new adherents sought answers or solace in the promise of eternity.
Yet, amidst this resurgence of faith, skepticism persisted. In an unexpected turn, the revival of free press and journalism swept across the Five Hundred Worlds as individuals sought to uncover the truth behind Blair's claims or discern whether they were mere fabrications.
A diverse array of voices emerged, from philosophers and scholars to scientists and tech-priests, each offering their own interpretation of events. Amidst the cacophony, distinctions blurred between truth and 'truth,' fueling a growing spectacle that would soon reverberate across tens of thousands of worlds. Those attuned to the currents of change recognized that the Realm of Ultramar heralded a profound shift in Imperial culture: the resurgence of faith and skepticism.
Yet, had anyone known what consequences awaited the rest of the galaxy following the fallout of the Masquerade's End, they would have more fear and trepidation for the future.
Macragge, Palace of Ultramar…
Aldrich muttered to himself as he stepped out of the armored car and approached the familiar imposing front entrance of the Palace of Ultramar. 'Another thrilling day in paradise.' He thought to himself.
It was nearing midnight by the time Aldrich finally returned to the palace. He had been absent for nearly three days, engrossed in consultations with PDF and Auxilla commanders and discussions with Imperial Army commanders across the system. Despite the return to relative normalcy, the realm still grappled with its share of everyday challenges.
The truth was that hundreds of regiments remained to be trained, equipped, and dispatched to various fronts across the galaxy. Matters were further complicated by the demands of newly formed regiments for officially sanctioned "chaplains." Initially met with resistance, Aldrich gradually warmed up to the idea after some argued that it could bolster veteran retention.
Indeed, the influx of former army veterans seeking to reenlist, albeit only after embracing newfound faiths, presented a conundrum. People were embracing conversions, genuine or otherwise, at an alarming rate.
It was madness. Then again, the same could be said about this entire year.
Aldrich couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu, as if he had been transported back to Terra, grappling with a myriad of crises while grappling with solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems. No one seemed satisfied with the outcomes, yet no one stepped forward to shoulder the burden of finding a resolution.
To compound matters, the weight of responsibility rested squarely on Euten's shoulders. Even after a year, the absence of Guilliman loomed large. He remained entrenched in his pursuits, seemingly unaware of the turmoil brewing in his domain. While Aldrich couldn't help but admire the Primarch's dedication to safeguarding the Imperium, he couldn't shake the sense that Guilliman's focus on external threats left Ultramar teetering on the brink of collapse.
Euten bore the brunt of the chaos, enduring countless sleepless nights, navigating delicate compromises, and sometimes even resorting to pleading for more time to reassure the populace that peace was within reach. When Guilliman eventually returned, Aldrich vowed to confront him, regardless of his divine stature. Strong words were overdue, and he intended to ensure they were heard.
Not that he would ever dare to voice such thoughts to Euten.
Her unwavering love for her son Guilliman was evident to all. Sometimes, to a degree, that likely blinded her. Case in point: when confronted with the weighty question of whether the Imperial Truth was false and if Guilliman was aware, she fiercely shielded him.
She went so far as to place the blame squarely on the Emperor publicly, asserting that his deceit had played a huge part in all of this. This wasn't merely a passing criticism but a damning indictment, a formal proclamation casting the Emperor as the architect of their woes, his falsehoods the root cause of their troubles. Anti-Imperial sentiments were simmering once more.
Approaching Euten's private chambers, Aldrich couldn't shake the memory of his cautionary words to her, warning of the inevitable backlash from Terra should she proceed with her bold stance. Yet, Euten remained resolute, her unwavering focus on preserving her son's empire at any cost.
Navigating past the vigilant patrols of Astartes squads, Aldrich couldn't help but note the heightened security measures surrounding the palace. This added an extra layer of complexity to his late-night visits to Euten's chambers; his movements were conspicuous, observed by many.
While such scrutiny might be expected from Astartes, who cared not for whatever the Legatus or Senschal got up to, it felt distinctly uncomfortable for him as a man who had been seen in public with Euten on numerous occasions. A few commanders went so far as to ask Aldrich about his relationship with the Primarch's mother.
To exacerbate matters, independent news agencies began speculating and making unseemly insinuations about their relationship, casting shadows on their association. However, some good news was that the people seemed quite fixated on this "scandalous" behavior. An outsider supposedly dating Lord Konor's widow and Roboute Guilliman's mother was, if nothing else, an amusing distraction.
But what troubled Aldrich more than anything was his own uncertainty regarding the validity of their conjectures. In recent months, he and Euten had undeniably grown...close. Perhaps more so than any platonic friendship could allow.
With a soft knock on the door before using his personal key, Aldrich entered Euten's dimly lit chambers, his voice hushed as he called out, "Euten? Are you here?" Even though he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, Aldrich still felt it unseemingly just to enter a woman's chamber unannounced.
As Aldrich entered the small living room, he noticed enough light to navigate without stumbling over anything. His gaze fell upon Euten, sound asleep on one of the couches. Beside her, an empty bottle of wine and a wine glass rested on the table, silent witnesses to the exhaustion that permeated their lives over the past year. It was a familiar scene—a testament to their countless hours laboring in this room together.
She slept with a grace that belied the effects of an entire bottle of wine. There had been occasions when Aldrich succumbed to exhaustion, indulging in a fifth of Macraggian scotch before collapsing on the couch. Though he hesitated to disturb her, he couldn't shake the thought that she would have been more comfortable in a bed.
To his surprise, Euten stirred, softly uttering, "Welcome back, Aldrich," her voice barely above a whisper as she kept her eyes closed.
Aldrich couldn't help but smile. "You weren't actually asleep?"
"I was," she confirmed, her tone gentle as she settled back into the cushions. "Until I heard a voice. At first, I thought it was Konor until I remembered where I was."
Her words struck a chord with Aldrich, a bittersweet reminder of her enduring love for her late husband. Despite his efforts to suppress the thought, it was a poignant indication of his place in her heart.
"Would you like something to eat?" Aldrich offered, though his own hunger was negligible. When Euten responded with a noncommittal sound, he inferred her lack of appetite mirrored his own. It was almost comical, the highest-rated human general in the Realm of Ultramar functioning effectively as Euten's private cook.
"Fetch another bottle of wine or scotch," Euten commanded, her tone decisive. "Come, sit, and drink with me."
Though he knew it wasn't the wisest choice, Aldrich complied without argument. He selected a bottle of scotch with plenty remaining and two glasses before settling beside Euten. "Looks like you've already gotten a head start on me."
"Mhmm..." She hummed softly, slowly sitting up and offering a brief stretch. "What time is it now?"
"Just past midnight," Aldrich replied as he poured them a drink. "You'll be pleased to know I've addressed the issue with the delayed shell shipments to the front."
Her chuckle was music to his ears. "Bless your heart, Aldrich." She raised her glass in a small toast. "A toast then to your success."
Whether she was in good spirits or something weighed heavily on her mind, Aldrich couldn't discern. "Indeed, cheers," he nodded, clinking his glass against hers.
The pair savored their drinks in the subdued ambiance, enveloped by a comfortable silence. Aldrich couldn't help but notice Euten's proximity, though she seemed either oblivious or indifferent to it as she refilled their glasses.
"You're already ahead of the drinking, Euten," Aldrich quipped as he watched her sip her scotch. "No need to turn it into a competition."
Euten offered a bittersweet smile. "My apologies, Aldrich. I suppose I'm just...well, in need of a celebration."
"Is that so?" Aldrich raised an eyebrow, expecting to hear positive news. "You don't appear particularly jubilant."
"I'm not entirely sure how I should feel," Euten admitted, her expression troubled. "But I've decided to announce Roboute's engagement next week. I've already issued a statement teasing an important announcement and wanted to finalize the details with you."
Aldrich nearly choked on his scotch. "What?" he exclaimed, setting down his glass. "Euten, I thought we would discuss this further."
She shrugged, her demeanor somber as she continued to drink. "I made an executive decision based on the prevailing sentiment among our people."
"So your solution is to announce that your son will marry an alien?" Aldrich struggled to contain his disbelief. "That seems rather rash."
"But it will serve as a useful distraction," Euten replied resignedly, her tone akin to that of a condemned prisoner. "In times like these, distractions are all we have. They shield the populace from harsh realities."
As Euten raised her glass again, Aldrich gently intercepted her by clasping her hand. "Euten, what's truly going on here?" he pressed, concern etched in his features. "I understand this year has been challenging, but why introduce such a contentious issue now merely for diversion?"
For a moment, she remained silent, grappling with her thoughts before finally speaking. "This empire is Konor's legacy. Roboute put his soul into turning it into the most prosperous section of space in the galaxy. And… I came perilously close to losing it under my stewardship."
Aldrich shook his head in disbelief. "Look, we've all had a rough year. No one could have predicted something like the Masquerade's End erupting here on Macragge. But despite it all, the Realm of Ultramar is slowly finding its footing again. Everything is back to normal."
"Nothing feels normal!" Euten's voice rose with frustration. "I've had to compromise my son's authority to placate people who were on the brink of rioting or rebellion across the Five Hundred Worlds. Roboute faces enemies outside and within our borders, and instead of crushing them, I've been forced to negotiate, appease, and concede. Yet I can't shake the feeling that this is the beginning of our troubles. I've merely bought us some time, but I need more."
"And you thought a wedding involving Roboute was a good means to get more?" Aldrich struggled to grasp the logic behind her decision. "Last year, people discovered that gods apparently exist. Do you honestly believe they'll take kindly to the news of Roboute marrying an alien while still coming to terms with the previous crisis?"
Euten shook her head, acknowledging the potential complications. "It would undoubtedly stir up trouble, but I hoped that once Roboute returned and set things straight, people would eventually come to accept the situation. How quick man is to forget their troubles when all their needs are being met."
"But It would have been a tremendous risk if it backfired," Aldrich pointed out, his concern mounting. "This isn't like you, Euten. I've known you for years and witnessed your political prowess firsthand. You're one of the sharpest and most determined individuals I know. You aren't a jackal like many others, and you care about the people. So the idea that you would resort to such a risky move goes against everything I've come to understand about you."
She must have realized how shameful her next words were, refusing to look Aldrich in the eyes, "I miss Roboute," Euten confessed after a moment of hesitation. "I know it's a feeble excuse for my actions, but it's been almost seven years since I last saw him, and it feels like... I'm adrift in life once more."
"Adrift?" Aldrich repeated, puzzled. "You're not adrift, Euten. Trust me, I know what it feels like to be adrift." Memories of his solitary years on Cetin came flooding back.
"It's different when you've lost a spouse and have a child," Euten countered. "You realize that nothing is certain, and the good things in your life can end on a whim. I don't want to see everything Roboute, Konor, and I built crumble. So I worked hard in his sted. But I can't match my son in terms of statesmanship. After struggling for so long to secure victories on my own, I think I may have... become resentful to my son."
"Toward Roboute? You?" Aldrich couldn't fathom it. "I can't imagine you ever resenting your son."
"No," Euten admitted. "But I might have resented him for leaving me alone. I can still remember those days when we were a family. Some days are harder than others. Being alone is a difficult thing to reconcile, especially when you realize the last vestige of your family might either die or, gods willing, have his own someday."
Reaching back to take her glass, Euten admits quietly, "I don't want to be alone."
"You're not alone," Aldrich insisted, gently grasping her hand and stopping her from taking another shot. "You have me." This was a rather brazen decision on his part, but it felt appropriate.
"I know," Euten smiled gratefully at him. "Aldrich, I don't think I've properly thanked you for all the help you've provided me and, by extension, my son."
"You and he technically outrank me," Aldrich half-joked, turning to Euten. "But so far, you're proving to be much more accommodating and understanding. Considering my last two bosses were the Emperor and Malcador, that's saying something."
"Heh," Euten chuckled, setting down her glass once more. "That really is saying something." Her uncertainty was palpable, mirroring Aldrich's own confusion. They remained hand in hand, unsure what to do or say next.
Moments passed, each one stretching into an awkward eternity. Just as Aldrich was about to break the silence, Euten surprised him by slowly turning to face him. "Thank you for being here, Aldrich," she said softly. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips lingered, and Aldrich found himself unable to pull away.
But as the kiss lingered, Aldrich's sense of propriety kicked in, and he gently pulled back. "You're... you're drunk," he stammered, attempting to downplay the significance of the moment. "You should... you should get some sleep."
"I'm not drunk," Euten insisted, her tone uncertain. "I'm sorry, that must have been... unexpected."
"That's one way to put it," Aldrich replied, trying to mask his conflicted feelings. "I didn't... I didn't dislike it. The kiss, I mean. I just didn't want to... I didn't want to do anything you might regret later."
Euten's smile in the dim light was both disarming and intriguing. "Are you embarrassed, Aldrich?"
"No!" Aldrich protested, though his cheeks betrayed him. "I just... I wasn't expecting it from you."
"And if I'm not against it either, why stop?" Euten's amusement was evident. "We've known each other for so long, Aldrich, and we've endured a year of hell together. I don't know what this is, but you and I make a good team. And you might be the only true friend I have left in the galaxy who isn't my son."
"But what exactly is this?" Aldrich struggled to put a label on it. Love seemed too daunting a concept for him, especially since he'd never experienced it before. "And where do we go from here?"
Euten's uncertainty mirrored his own. "I'm unsure what this is or what steps to take next. I thought... maybe we could just throw caution to the wind. After all, I'm a widowed mother, and you were essentially a warrior monk. Perhaps it's time for both of us to embrace some madness."
"Just explore whatever this is, but let's pretend tomorrow isn't looming over us?" Aldrich suggested with a chuckle. "No offense, Euten, but we're no longer in our prime. At least not unless we opt for some rejuvenation treatments." It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.
Euten nodded in agreement. "We can still take things slow, but I'm not interested in playing games or going through the motions of traditional dating. You know who I am, Aldrich, and I believe you understand me well enough that we can bypass all the nonsense."
"Heh, might as well just get—" Aldrich caught himself before making a flippant remark, but then inspiration struck. "Oh my god, the cosmic irony of it all!" He couldn't help but chuckle at the sudden realization.
Euten blinked, taken aback by his reaction. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I think I just stumbled upon another idea for your distraction plan." Taking both her hands in his, Aldrich locked eyes with her and grinned. "Tarasha Euten, I, Aldrich Baelsar, formally ask for your hand in marriage."
Euten's expression shifted from confusion to bewilderment, her cheeks flushing crimson. "We... we can't—I mean, we said we didn't want to take things slow, but this is so... oh, what the hell. I'll marry you if you tell me what brought this on!" The fact that she didn't even push back probably said more about how Aldrich was and how well he was taking all of this in stride.
"You mentioned using Roboute's impending marriage as a distraction for the people, right?" Aldrich posed the question, already knowing the answer. "Well, let's change it to our marriage."
Euten considered his proposal momentarily, her embarrassment giving way to contemplation. "That would likely be better received by the populace as a whole," she mused. "It could underscore Ultramar's ties to the Imperium if I were to marry a former Lord Militant. Not that I particularly care about that aspect. However, it would reinforce the perception that our realm is thriving, especially if it leads to another significant political victory."
"More importantly, we can consider inviting other potential partners into the mix," Aldrich suggested with a smirk. "A little skullduggery to spice up the wedding."
Euten raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, though she was warming up to the idea. "That's certainly an... unconventional approach," she remarked, "but it would undoubtedly make for a lively and spirited event. Personally, I had envisioned something a bit more intimate and cozy."
"As did I," Aldrich admitted, "but let's make the best of it. Besides, I'd like to put any unsavory rumors to rest. If we're going to explore whatever... this relationship is, we might as well do it with the title of husband and wife."
"That's a valid point," Euten conceded. "I'd rather not have people questioning my integrity or assuming I'm being seduced by you."
"Considering you're the one doing the seducing, technically, I'm the victim," Aldrich deadpanned, eliciting laughter from Euten as she leaned into him. It was as if an invisible barrier, barely perceptible, had dissolved between them, and suddenly, it felt natural to touch and hold one another—a weight lifted from their shoulders.
Aldrich initiated their celebration with a kiss, though it may have been a bit awkward, prompting a giggle from Euten. "Someone's rusty," she teased.
"I haven't been with a woman since I was a young man," Aldrich admitted. "I figure it's like riding a horse; you never really forget."
Euten fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Why don't we... see if we can pick up where we left off with our previous partners?" Her invitation caught Aldrich off guard.
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Are you sure?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "We wanted to skip all the formalities of dating, and technically, we're engaged, so... why wait?" A rather scandalous look appeared on her face, "Don't tell me you aren't attracted to me?"
"No, you're beautiful," Aldrich replied without hesitation. "I just... I guess I'm still processing all of this." Some part of him remembered that Euten had just been dreaming about her late husband, but it also reminded Aldrich that the man was gone and had been gone for a long time.
Euten may not have fully moved on, and perhaps she never will, but this was her reaching out to form a connection with him. In that case, why should he turn it down?
"So..." Aldrich cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "The bedroom?"
"It would be a good place to start, yes," Euten agreed, smiling as she rose from the couch. After a brief stretch, she extended her hand to Aldrich. "Let's enjoy ourselves. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be busy."
"Yeah," Aldrich nodded, taking her hand and rising to his feet. "I suppose you and I have a life to plan out together."
One week later…
As planned, Euten made the announcement to the public amidst some fanfare. The main focus was on Macragge's return to stability and the ongoing efforts of the Realm of Ultramar. Despite the challenges, the people and the government had weathered the first storm of a post-Masquerade's End galaxy.
When it was time to express gratitude to those who had aided in this endeavor, Euten surprised many by revealing that she and Legatus Baelsar had developed a romantic relationship over the past year. They announced their engagement, which was set to take place in a few years once things settled within the Realm of Ultramar.
The public response was largely positive. While a minority had speculated about their relationship, the majority were curious about how the Primarch would react to his beloved mother remarrying after all this time.
Some audacious reporters and investigators questioned the timing of the announcement. In response, both Euten and Aldrich acknowledged that part of their intention was to uplift the people's spirits. Even amid uncertainty and unprecedented challenges, their relationship served as a reminder that amidst the darkness, there could still be moments of profound connection and hope.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, another omake.
Macragge, one year after the Masquerade End…
As one of the most prosperous and stable worlds in the Imperium of Man and the homeworld of Roboute Guilliman, Macragge stood as a beacon of order and security. The mere thought of its descent into anarchy left many bewildered, prompting them to consider how distant the rest of the Imperium was from such turmoil.
The aftermath of what some dubbed the Masquerade's End plunged Macragge into chaos during its initial months. Fortunately, this tumultuous period wasn't characterized by self-inflicted harm but rather by a fervent demand for answers from the confused and somewhat terrified people of Macragge.
Protests erupted across the planet, with elements of the Arbites and civil government uniting in solidarity with the people. While a few riots flared up, they were swiftly quelled by level-headed militias and PDF companies. No one wanted to storm the capital or engage in the act of rebellion, at least not yet, but something had to be said and done by the Primarch.
While many expected the Astartes to intervene and quell the unrest, they were instead tasked with a weightier responsibility: safeguarding Macragge's security and uncovering the intricacies of Blair and her forces' orchestration of the Masquerade's End and their subsequent escape from the planet.
The investigation into Macragge's infiltration unveiled a troubling reality: an intrusion access point had been clandestinely established within the defense grid, rendering the capital vulnerable and exposed. The findings of the Vigil Operatii confirmed this unsettling revelation. What perplexed the Ultramarines was the discovery of a breach seemingly made decades earlier.
Despite the confusion, the urgency demanded resolution, and Tarasha Euten was given the mantle of responsibility in this unfolding crisis. Amidst the chaos, she devoted herself to engaging with diplomats from worlds within the Realm of Ultramar, providing insight into the unfolding events and disseminating crucial information.
It didn't take long for neighboring worlds to obtain copies of the M-Talk episode that ignited the crisis. Despite efforts from Macragge to suppress it, the episode had already proliferated, with potentially hundreds of thousands of copies in circulation and spreading rapidly among citizens. With the momentum unstoppable, the focus shifted to mitigating the fallout. Damage control became paramount. By the third month, it became exceedingly clear that aside from answers, the people now wanted one more thing: the right to worship.
However, granting such liberties sparked vehement dissent among the gathered diplomats and governors. The Imperium of Man, known for its strict stance against public or clandestine religious practices, was not to be defied lightly. Yet, proponents argued that Terra's response would be tempered, given the significant financial influence the Realm of Ultramar wielded.
Ultimately, Legatus Baelsar championed the cause, urging Ultramar's lords to sanction religious freedoms. His rationale was pragmatic: the turmoil threatened to stagnate the economy. 'As it stands,' he reasoned, 'our primary advantage to forestall Terra's intervention is perilously close to collapse. Productivity has plummeted, commerce is paralyzed, and essential goods languish unused. If appeasing the populace with their desired faith is the solution, then controlling its dissemination is our best course.'
Several weeks later, Seneschal Euten issued a decree announcing the authorization of select faiths to establish temples and other places of worship across Ultramar. Newly appointed religious leaders collaborated with the government, and by the ninth month following the onset of the Masquerade's End, a fragile tranquility began to return to the Realm of Ultramar as a whole.
As the year drew to a close, Macragge, and thus the Realm of Ultramar, was restored to peace and prosperity. Across the realm, many places of worship emerged, drawing congregations numbering in the millions as new adherents sought answers or solace in the promise of eternity.
Yet, amidst this resurgence of faith, skepticism persisted. In an unexpected turn, the revival of free press and journalism swept across the Five Hundred Worlds as individuals sought to uncover the truth behind Blair's claims or discern whether they were mere fabrications.
A diverse array of voices emerged, from philosophers and scholars to scientists and tech-priests, each offering their own interpretation of events. Amidst the cacophony, distinctions blurred between truth and 'truth,' fueling a growing spectacle that would soon reverberate across tens of thousands of worlds. Those attuned to the currents of change recognized that the Realm of Ultramar heralded a profound shift in Imperial culture: the resurgence of faith and skepticism.
Yet, had anyone known what consequences awaited the rest of the galaxy following the fallout of the Masquerade's End, they would have more fear and trepidation for the future.
Macragge, Palace of Ultramar…
Aldrich muttered to himself as he stepped out of the armored car and approached the familiar imposing front entrance of the Palace of Ultramar. 'Another thrilling day in paradise.' He thought to himself.
It was nearing midnight by the time Aldrich finally returned to the palace. He had been absent for nearly three days, engrossed in consultations with PDF and Auxilla commanders and discussions with Imperial Army commanders across the system. Despite the return to relative normalcy, the realm still grappled with its share of everyday challenges.
The truth was that hundreds of regiments remained to be trained, equipped, and dispatched to various fronts across the galaxy. Matters were further complicated by the demands of newly formed regiments for officially sanctioned "chaplains." Initially met with resistance, Aldrich gradually warmed up to the idea after some argued that it could bolster veteran retention.
Indeed, the influx of former army veterans seeking to reenlist, albeit only after embracing newfound faiths, presented a conundrum. People were embracing conversions, genuine or otherwise, at an alarming rate.
It was madness. Then again, the same could be said about this entire year.
Aldrich couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu, as if he had been transported back to Terra, grappling with a myriad of crises while grappling with solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems. No one seemed satisfied with the outcomes, yet no one stepped forward to shoulder the burden of finding a resolution.
To compound matters, the weight of responsibility rested squarely on Euten's shoulders. Even after a year, the absence of Guilliman loomed large. He remained entrenched in his pursuits, seemingly unaware of the turmoil brewing in his domain. While Aldrich couldn't help but admire the Primarch's dedication to safeguarding the Imperium, he couldn't shake the sense that Guilliman's focus on external threats left Ultramar teetering on the brink of collapse.
Euten bore the brunt of the chaos, enduring countless sleepless nights, navigating delicate compromises, and sometimes even resorting to pleading for more time to reassure the populace that peace was within reach. When Guilliman eventually returned, Aldrich vowed to confront him, regardless of his divine stature. Strong words were overdue, and he intended to ensure they were heard.
Not that he would ever dare to voice such thoughts to Euten.
Her unwavering love for her son Guilliman was evident to all. Sometimes, to a degree, that likely blinded her. Case in point: when confronted with the weighty question of whether the Imperial Truth was false and if Guilliman was aware, she fiercely shielded him.
She went so far as to place the blame squarely on the Emperor publicly, asserting that his deceit had played a huge part in all of this. This wasn't merely a passing criticism but a damning indictment, a formal proclamation casting the Emperor as the architect of their woes, his falsehoods the root cause of their troubles. Anti-Imperial sentiments were simmering once more.
Approaching Euten's private chambers, Aldrich couldn't shake the memory of his cautionary words to her, warning of the inevitable backlash from Terra should she proceed with her bold stance. Yet, Euten remained resolute, her unwavering focus on preserving her son's empire at any cost.
Navigating past the vigilant patrols of Astartes squads, Aldrich couldn't help but note the heightened security measures surrounding the palace. This added an extra layer of complexity to his late-night visits to Euten's chambers; his movements were conspicuous, observed by many.
While such scrutiny might be expected from Astartes, who cared not for whatever the Legatus or Senschal got up to, it felt distinctly uncomfortable for him as a man who had been seen in public with Euten on numerous occasions. A few commanders went so far as to ask Aldrich about his relationship with the Primarch's mother.
To exacerbate matters, independent news agencies began speculating and making unseemly insinuations about their relationship, casting shadows on their association. However, some good news was that the people seemed quite fixated on this "scandalous" behavior. An outsider supposedly dating Lord Konor's widow and Roboute Guilliman's mother was, if nothing else, an amusing distraction.
But what troubled Aldrich more than anything was his own uncertainty regarding the validity of their conjectures. In recent months, he and Euten had undeniably grown...close. Perhaps more so than any platonic friendship could allow.
With a soft knock on the door before using his personal key, Aldrich entered Euten's dimly lit chambers, his voice hushed as he called out, "Euten? Are you here?" Even though he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, Aldrich still felt it unseemingly just to enter a woman's chamber unannounced.
As Aldrich entered the small living room, he noticed enough light to navigate without stumbling over anything. His gaze fell upon Euten, sound asleep on one of the couches. Beside her, an empty bottle of wine and a wine glass rested on the table, silent witnesses to the exhaustion that permeated their lives over the past year. It was a familiar scene—a testament to their countless hours laboring in this room together.
She slept with a grace that belied the effects of an entire bottle of wine. There had been occasions when Aldrich succumbed to exhaustion, indulging in a fifth of Macraggian scotch before collapsing on the couch. Though he hesitated to disturb her, he couldn't shake the thought that she would have been more comfortable in a bed.
To his surprise, Euten stirred, softly uttering, "Welcome back, Aldrich," her voice barely above a whisper as she kept her eyes closed.
Aldrich couldn't help but smile. "You weren't actually asleep?"
"I was," she confirmed, her tone gentle as she settled back into the cushions. "Until I heard a voice. At first, I thought it was Konor until I remembered where I was."
Her words struck a chord with Aldrich, a bittersweet reminder of her enduring love for her late husband. Despite his efforts to suppress the thought, it was a poignant indication of his place in her heart.
"Would you like something to eat?" Aldrich offered, though his own hunger was negligible. When Euten responded with a noncommittal sound, he inferred her lack of appetite mirrored his own. It was almost comical, the highest-rated human general in the Realm of Ultramar functioning effectively as Euten's private cook.
"Fetch another bottle of wine or scotch," Euten commanded, her tone decisive. "Come, sit, and drink with me."
Though he knew it wasn't the wisest choice, Aldrich complied without argument. He selected a bottle of scotch with plenty remaining and two glasses before settling beside Euten. "Looks like you've already gotten a head start on me."
"Mhmm..." She hummed softly, slowly sitting up and offering a brief stretch. "What time is it now?"
"Just past midnight," Aldrich replied as he poured them a drink. "You'll be pleased to know I've addressed the issue with the delayed shell shipments to the front."
Her chuckle was music to his ears. "Bless your heart, Aldrich." She raised her glass in a small toast. "A toast then to your success."
Whether she was in good spirits or something weighed heavily on her mind, Aldrich couldn't discern. "Indeed, cheers," he nodded, clinking his glass against hers.
The pair savored their drinks in the subdued ambiance, enveloped by a comfortable silence. Aldrich couldn't help but notice Euten's proximity, though she seemed either oblivious or indifferent to it as she refilled their glasses.
"You're already ahead of the drinking, Euten," Aldrich quipped as he watched her sip her scotch. "No need to turn it into a competition."
Euten offered a bittersweet smile. "My apologies, Aldrich. I suppose I'm just...well, in need of a celebration."
"Is that so?" Aldrich raised an eyebrow, expecting to hear positive news. "You don't appear particularly jubilant."
"I'm not entirely sure how I should feel," Euten admitted, her expression troubled. "But I've decided to announce Roboute's engagement next week. I've already issued a statement teasing an important announcement and wanted to finalize the details with you."
Aldrich nearly choked on his scotch. "What?" he exclaimed, setting down his glass. "Euten, I thought we would discuss this further."
She shrugged, her demeanor somber as she continued to drink. "I made an executive decision based on the prevailing sentiment among our people."
"So your solution is to announce that your son will marry an alien?" Aldrich struggled to contain his disbelief. "That seems rather rash."
"But it will serve as a useful distraction," Euten replied resignedly, her tone akin to that of a condemned prisoner. "In times like these, distractions are all we have. They shield the populace from harsh realities."
As Euten raised her glass again, Aldrich gently intercepted her by clasping her hand. "Euten, what's truly going on here?" he pressed, concern etched in his features. "I understand this year has been challenging, but why introduce such a contentious issue now merely for diversion?"
For a moment, she remained silent, grappling with her thoughts before finally speaking. "This empire is Konor's legacy. Roboute put his soul into turning it into the most prosperous section of space in the galaxy. And… I came perilously close to losing it under my stewardship."
Aldrich shook his head in disbelief. "Look, we've all had a rough year. No one could have predicted something like the Masquerade's End erupting here on Macragge. But despite it all, the Realm of Ultramar is slowly finding its footing again. Everything is back to normal."
"Nothing feels normal!" Euten's voice rose with frustration. "I've had to compromise my son's authority to placate people who were on the brink of rioting or rebellion across the Five Hundred Worlds. Roboute faces enemies outside and within our borders, and instead of crushing them, I've been forced to negotiate, appease, and concede. Yet I can't shake the feeling that this is the beginning of our troubles. I've merely bought us some time, but I need more."
"And you thought a wedding involving Roboute was a good means to get more?" Aldrich struggled to grasp the logic behind her decision. "Last year, people discovered that gods apparently exist. Do you honestly believe they'll take kindly to the news of Roboute marrying an alien while still coming to terms with the previous crisis?"
Euten shook her head, acknowledging the potential complications. "It would undoubtedly stir up trouble, but I hoped that once Roboute returned and set things straight, people would eventually come to accept the situation. How quick man is to forget their troubles when all their needs are being met."
"But It would have been a tremendous risk if it backfired," Aldrich pointed out, his concern mounting. "This isn't like you, Euten. I've known you for years and witnessed your political prowess firsthand. You're one of the sharpest and most determined individuals I know. You aren't a jackal like many others, and you care about the people. So the idea that you would resort to such a risky move goes against everything I've come to understand about you."
She must have realized how shameful her next words were, refusing to look Aldrich in the eyes, "I miss Roboute," Euten confessed after a moment of hesitation. "I know it's a feeble excuse for my actions, but it's been almost seven years since I last saw him, and it feels like... I'm adrift in life once more."
"Adrift?" Aldrich repeated, puzzled. "You're not adrift, Euten. Trust me, I know what it feels like to be adrift." Memories of his solitary years on Cetin came flooding back.
"It's different when you've lost a spouse and have a child," Euten countered. "You realize that nothing is certain, and the good things in your life can end on a whim. I don't want to see everything Roboute, Konor, and I built crumble. So I worked hard in his sted. But I can't match my son in terms of statesmanship. After struggling for so long to secure victories on my own, I think I may have... become resentful to my son."
"Toward Roboute? You?" Aldrich couldn't fathom it. "I can't imagine you ever resenting your son."
"No," Euten admitted. "But I might have resented him for leaving me alone. I can still remember those days when we were a family. Some days are harder than others. Being alone is a difficult thing to reconcile, especially when you realize the last vestige of your family might either die or, gods willing, have his own someday."
Reaching back to take her glass, Euten admits quietly, "I don't want to be alone."
"You're not alone," Aldrich insisted, gently grasping her hand and stopping her from taking another shot. "You have me." This was a rather brazen decision on his part, but it felt appropriate.
"I know," Euten smiled gratefully at him. "Aldrich, I don't think I've properly thanked you for all the help you've provided me and, by extension, my son."
"You and he technically outrank me," Aldrich half-joked, turning to Euten. "But so far, you're proving to be much more accommodating and understanding. Considering my last two bosses were the Emperor and Malcador, that's saying something."
"Heh," Euten chuckled, setting down her glass once more. "That really is saying something." Her uncertainty was palpable, mirroring Aldrich's own confusion. They remained hand in hand, unsure what to do or say next.
Moments passed, each one stretching into an awkward eternity. Just as Aldrich was about to break the silence, Euten surprised him by slowly turning to face him. "Thank you for being here, Aldrich," she said softly. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips lingered, and Aldrich found himself unable to pull away.
But as the kiss lingered, Aldrich's sense of propriety kicked in, and he gently pulled back. "You're... you're drunk," he stammered, attempting to downplay the significance of the moment. "You should... you should get some sleep."
"I'm not drunk," Euten insisted, her tone uncertain. "I'm sorry, that must have been... unexpected."
"That's one way to put it," Aldrich replied, trying to mask his conflicted feelings. "I didn't... I didn't dislike it. The kiss, I mean. I just didn't want to... I didn't want to do anything you might regret later."
Euten's smile in the dim light was both disarming and intriguing. "Are you embarrassed, Aldrich?"
"No!" Aldrich protested, though his cheeks betrayed him. "I just... I wasn't expecting it from you."
"And if I'm not against it either, why stop?" Euten's amusement was evident. "We've known each other for so long, Aldrich, and we've endured a year of hell together. I don't know what this is, but you and I make a good team. And you might be the only true friend I have left in the galaxy who isn't my son."
"But what exactly is this?" Aldrich struggled to put a label on it. Love seemed too daunting a concept for him, especially since he'd never experienced it before. "And where do we go from here?"
Euten's uncertainty mirrored his own. "I'm unsure what this is or what steps to take next. I thought... maybe we could just throw caution to the wind. After all, I'm a widowed mother, and you were essentially a warrior monk. Perhaps it's time for both of us to embrace some madness."
"Just explore whatever this is, but let's pretend tomorrow isn't looming over us?" Aldrich suggested with a chuckle. "No offense, Euten, but we're no longer in our prime. At least not unless we opt for some rejuvenation treatments." It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.
Euten nodded in agreement. "We can still take things slow, but I'm not interested in playing games or going through the motions of traditional dating. You know who I am, Aldrich, and I believe you understand me well enough that we can bypass all the nonsense."
"Heh, might as well just get—" Aldrich caught himself before making a flippant remark, but then inspiration struck. "Oh my god, the cosmic irony of it all!" He couldn't help but chuckle at the sudden realization.
Euten blinked, taken aback by his reaction. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I think I just stumbled upon another idea for your distraction plan." Taking both her hands in his, Aldrich locked eyes with her and grinned. "Tarasha Euten, I, Aldrich Baelsar, formally ask for your hand in marriage."
Euten's expression shifted from confusion to bewilderment, her cheeks flushing crimson. "We... we can't—I mean, we said we didn't want to take things slow, but this is so... oh, what the hell. I'll marry you if you tell me what brought this on!" The fact that she didn't even push back probably said more about how Aldrich was and how well he was taking all of this in stride.
"You mentioned using Roboute's impending marriage as a distraction for the people, right?" Aldrich posed the question, already knowing the answer. "Well, let's change it to our marriage."
Euten considered his proposal momentarily, her embarrassment giving way to contemplation. "That would likely be better received by the populace as a whole," she mused. "It could underscore Ultramar's ties to the Imperium if I were to marry a former Lord Militant. Not that I particularly care about that aspect. However, it would reinforce the perception that our realm is thriving, especially if it leads to another significant political victory."
"More importantly, we can consider inviting other potential partners into the mix," Aldrich suggested with a smirk. "A little skullduggery to spice up the wedding."
Euten raised an eyebrow at his suggestion, though she was warming up to the idea. "That's certainly an... unconventional approach," she remarked, "but it would undoubtedly make for a lively and spirited event. Personally, I had envisioned something a bit more intimate and cozy."
"As did I," Aldrich admitted, "but let's make the best of it. Besides, I'd like to put any unsavory rumors to rest. If we're going to explore whatever... this relationship is, we might as well do it with the title of husband and wife."
"That's a valid point," Euten conceded. "I'd rather not have people questioning my integrity or assuming I'm being seduced by you."
"Considering you're the one doing the seducing, technically, I'm the victim," Aldrich deadpanned, eliciting laughter from Euten as she leaned into him. It was as if an invisible barrier, barely perceptible, had dissolved between them, and suddenly, it felt natural to touch and hold one another—a weight lifted from their shoulders.
Aldrich initiated their celebration with a kiss, though it may have been a bit awkward, prompting a giggle from Euten. "Someone's rusty," she teased.
"I haven't been with a woman since I was a young man," Aldrich admitted. "I figure it's like riding a horse; you never really forget."
Euten fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Why don't we... see if we can pick up where we left off with our previous partners?" Her invitation caught Aldrich off guard.
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Are you sure?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "We wanted to skip all the formalities of dating, and technically, we're engaged, so... why wait?" A rather scandalous look appeared on her face, "Don't tell me you aren't attracted to me?"
"No, you're beautiful," Aldrich replied without hesitation. "I just... I guess I'm still processing all of this." Some part of him remembered that Euten had just been dreaming about her late husband, but it also reminded Aldrich that the man was gone and had been gone for a long time.
Euten may not have fully moved on, and perhaps she never will, but this was her reaching out to form a connection with him. In that case, why should he turn it down?
"So..." Aldrich cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "The bedroom?"
"It would be a good place to start, yes," Euten agreed, smiling as she rose from the couch. After a brief stretch, she extended her hand to Aldrich. "Let's enjoy ourselves. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be busy."
"Yeah," Aldrich nodded, taking her hand and rising to his feet. "I suppose you and I have a life to plan out together."
One week later…
As planned, Euten made the announcement to the public amidst some fanfare. The main focus was on Macragge's return to stability and the ongoing efforts of the Realm of Ultramar. Despite the challenges, the people and the government had weathered the first storm of a post-Masquerade's End galaxy.
When it was time to express gratitude to those who had aided in this endeavor, Euten surprised many by revealing that she and Legatus Baelsar had developed a romantic relationship over the past year. They announced their engagement, which was set to take place in a few years once things settled within the Realm of Ultramar.
The public response was largely positive. While a minority had speculated about their relationship, the majority were curious about how the Primarch would react to his beloved mother remarrying after all this time.
Some audacious reporters and investigators questioned the timing of the announcement. In response, both Euten and Aldrich acknowledged that part of their intention was to uplift the people's spirits. Even amid uncertainty and unprecedented challenges, their relationship served as a reminder that amidst the darkness, there could still be moments of profound connection and hope.
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, another omake.
The Return of the War Hounds
The Return of the War Hounds
Within a quiet office, space marine once looked down upon for his failure, stared down at the flesh covering his hands with wonder.
It was rare to see a space marine outside their armor, even rarer still to see one with tears fit to burst at the edges of his eyes, but this one had lost the ability to cry long ago, and now a thousand unshed tears threatened to sweep over him with sorrow.
He sat in silence for several long minutes feeling the soft touch of flesh on flesh as he pinched his fingers together, testing nerves that had not been used for decades.
The space marine sighed as he felt his mind flooding with colors and sights and sounds as his mind raced anew without the fog of the tomb he once called his body dampening it.
His hand opened and then the fingers unconsciously tightened and curled, clenching together into a fist.
The time for recollection and sorrow had died and been buried long ago, his duty was now to his legion.
Lhorke, the once Legion Master of the War Hounds, now returned from his dreadnought tomb to his biological body through an act of supreme sorcery.
The former Legion Master had been delirious upon his first awakening as his newly reformed nervous system fired off billions of signals every second, trapping the space marine in a sensory hell that lasted days as his body was slowly guided into relearning the complex pathways and organs it had once had unconscious control over but had deteriorated in his entombment.
Nearly three weeks after his body had finally been fully rebuilt, Lhorke was finally able to say the words he had meant to, turning over into his side and painfully twisting the various tubes that had been attached to him as he silently and slowly spoke out loud his gratitude with a gravelly voice.
The Crimson King had merely looked down in worry and urged Lhorke to rest and allow his body to recover, but Lhorke persisted.
Weakened and trapped on a metal table as he worked to bring his body back under his control, Lhorke swore to repay the kindness Magnus the Red had done for him, with the psyker merely smiling as he told Lhorke to get more sleep and walked away with his work finally done, leaving him in the care of the few World Eater apothecaries that remained.
He owed Magnus a favor for his services. Although it had been done as a favor from the Crimson King to the Death Lord, it did not change the fact that Magnus took it upon himself to heal the ancient space marine, and Lhorke would ensure that his debts were paid.
And that debt was only one of many that needed to be repaid, from the suffering of the Imperial army to the moral degradation of the War Hounds into the World Eaters, to their failure to help their father in his time of need, there was so much that needed to be done.
And even still, the reborn Legion Master knew that in order to fulfill his mandate from Mortarion and save his legion, he would have to take out even further debts to save the legion he once cherished so deeply.
He was not helpless or directionless, for in his decades long solitude within the dreadnought, a few ideas had formed to restructure and rebuild the legion back to its former glory, but within the current political climate and the decimated remnants of his legion, there was only one path left to him.
A desperate last card that relied soley on the willingness of the Primarchs to help him.
A group of demigods he had never met, and who likely cared little for his existence altogether.
His chances for success were slim, perhaps even less than his most pessimistic predictions could say, but it was all he had left now that the Death Lord of Barbarus was preparing to release the World Eaters from his cold grip.
The door leading to his private room swung open, and a giant figure stepped into the darkly lit area, but the reborn space marine was not surprised at this unannounced entry.
He had felt his presence some time ago, an itch in the back of his head that he had never before felt alerting him to the presence of a being blessed with strength and intellect far exceeding his.
Lhorke stood up from his bed and got down to one knee and bowed to the approaching demigod, for whom the shadows lingered and parted with every step.
"Lord Mortarion, I greet you now in this form you have gifted me."
The Death Lord looked down at Lhorke, contemplation written across his face as he examined the kneeling space marine.
"This is no gift, Lhorke, merely an investment into a tool that should have been fixed a long time ago."
"Regardless my lord, I serve at your pleasure as thanks for the opportunity to save my legion from certain damnation."
"When you come to understand the magnitude of your responsibility, you will not thank me Lhorke, you will curse me."
Mortarion examined the space marine as he looked upon the work Magnus had done.
A small twitch pulled his lips down into a frown as the marks of witchcraft lingered on the space marine's body before he steeled his expression.
"From this moment forward, I declare you to be the Legion Master of the World Eaters space marines. Until your dying breath, I bestow upon you the legal, administrative, logistical, and military powers necessary to ensure the continuation of the Great Crusade within the domain of your father, Angron."
"Thank you, my lord," Lhorke said quietly.
"However, until I am absolutely certain of the loyalties of your legion and until the scars of the butcher's nail are removed, you shall take with you a small contingent of my Death Guard with you."
A group of space marines walked in as he spoke, surrounding the now Legion Master of the World Eaters and saluting their father as they came to a stop.
"These marines shall accompany you wherever you go on any matters that concern the legion, whether officially or unofficially, and they alone shall serve as the executors of my will. Is that understood?"
The meaning of these Death Guard accompanying him was quite clear to Lhorke.
Should Lhorke ever step out of line or go against Mortarion's will in any way, these marines would only be a single astropath away and serve as the eyes of Mortarion within the World Eaters.
And should the day ever come that Lhorke turned his back on the Death Lord and tried to resist his orders, these watchers would possess at least all the knowledge on the legion that Lhorke himself had while also being able to assassinate him preemptively if they had the chance.
Truthfully, Lhorke could not blame the Primarch, for if their positions were reversed, he would see himself doing much the same for a legion that has long been known for their irrationality and bouts of rage.
"I understand Lord Primarch. I shall not fail you in my duty."
"See that it is so."
Mortarion turns to leave before Lhorke speaks up.
"Lord Primarch, I understand that you believe you have given me a burden, that somehow I should resent you for your butchery of the World Eaters legion."
Mortarion turns to face the kneeling World Eater, a neutral expression on his face as he listens.
"I will not lie, a small part of me resents that you did not treat us kindly, but I understand why you took the path you did in removing the rot from our legion."
Lhorke looked up to the Primarch, a sad, weathered smile on his face.
"I promise that from this day forward, I shall never again stand against you, nor shall my legion. No matter the circumstance, or the cost of doing so, the World Eaters and Death Guard shall never again be forced into conflict so long as I live and breathe."
"And on my part, I shall follow you into the deepest pits of hell itself if you merely give the word. I shall not betray the trust you have so graciously given me."
Lhorke knew that Mortarion's offer to retake the legion was not made out of generosity, he knew that Mortarion care little for his wellbeing or his success. Ultimately, all that mattered to the Primarch was his own sons and the success of the Death Guard, but even still, Lhorke could not help but be grateful.
Mortarion may have given over control of the legion so that he could return to his own duties,
The Death Lord looked down at him, the barest hint of contemplation hidden away in his expression as he regarded the reinstated Legion Master.
Without a word, Mortarion turned and left, leaving the twenty Death Guard alone in the room with the kneeling World Eater.
Lhorke rose to his feet, taking a moment to appreciate the very slight burn that radiated across the newly formed musculature in his leg as he stood up.
"Where shall we go now, Lord Lhorke?" One of the Death Guard asked.
Lhorke thought for a moment and then looked down at the simple cloth covering his body.
"First, I need a set of World Eater power armor. There is an armory within walking distance that should have a few extra sets of Power Armor with World Eater heraldry."
The Death Guard marines fell into formation behind Lhorke as he walked out of the room.
And then, once he has a few weapons and some protection, then it would be time for his long and laborious task of fixing the legion to begin.
As luck would have it, it turned out that the few World Eaters who had travelled with him to Terra so that he could have his body restored by Magnus had brought an extra set of power armor for him when he finally awoke from his slumber, and so it was a simple matter of having the serfs put on the armor for him.
There was a minor disturbance as the World Eaters present had a minor standoff with the Death Guard accompanying him, but a few words from him quickly prevented any infighting from breaking out.
Under normal circumstances, a space marine being as heavily armed and armored as he was with a loaded bolter, an active power sword, and a fully equipped set of power might seem strange on the throne world of mankind, but the political tensions had Lhorke very worried.
The fact that he was accompanied by astartes from a legion whose loyalty was in doubt was already a difficult situation on the capital word of the Imperium, that there was a constant presence of Imperial assassins on Terra too meant it would only take a single order and a single misplaced step for the new Legion Master to disappear.
It would be very bold for such an assassination to occur and lead nearly instantly to a declaration of rebellion by Mortarion and others for this blatant disregard for due process, but it remained a possibility.
The presence of the Eleventh Primarch too made this all the more unlikely, for who could predict how he would interpret the reformer of the World Eaters disappearing under suspicious circumstances, but the chances were not zero, and so precautions needed to be taken.
With the matter of his arming and armoring taken care of, Lhorke immediately moved into a secure office space and began the long and difficult task of untangling the bureaucracy that had collected dust for decades under Kharn's and Angron's command.
There was little that Lhorke could achieve on Terra while he waited for his body to return to full functionality and be safe for travel, but he could begin putting into motion his plans for saving the World Eaters while gathering information on the strategic situation in Angron's domain.
Within the confines of a secure office on Terra and far from the personal quarters of the First Captain, there was little information that Lhorke could acquire.
All his own passwords and protocols that he had created for the legion to access the more confidential details of the legion during his time as Legion Master of the War Hounds had long since been scrubbed from the records and replaced with Kharn's, and so he had little of the inside knowledge that was necessary to effectively change the legion.
That said, Mortarion had already given him the codes and authorizations necessary to access the Imperial Army's own records of the region, and so when combined with what little data the World Eaters present on Terra had to share as well as their own personal accounts, Lhorke was able to acquire a clearer strategic picture of that region of space.
In summary, it was utter hell.
The Imperial Army was no longer in full retreat or open rebellion as he feared due to Mortarion's continual usage of exterminatus to suppress any worlds in rebellion and his constant purge of disloyal officers helped prevent any full-on coups from breaking out in the region.
Despite that small mercy, the Imperial Army was still largely fractured and under-strength across the entire offensive front within Angron's domain, with several dozen worlds in need of assistance from what he could identify from these heavily patchy records.
Entire systems of Imperial Army soldiers had been isolated from the logistics networks of the Imperium for years due to the rebellion and were starving, though at the very least they had not turned coat.
By his rough estimates, there could be anywhere from a few hundred billion to several trillions of soldiers in need of basic supplies and necessities that could no longer be serviced due to a number of logistic hub worlds having rebelled and then destroyed by the Death Guard.
The situation was not yet critical from a logistical perspective, but it was close as the number of routes from which traders and other ships could pass through to supply the Imperial Army dropped down to only a few fragile lines that had to be defended at any cost.
All it would take was an uprising or rebellion by a few important leaders or worlds to completely cut off entire sectors from Imperial goods and leave trillions starving or worse. Although Lhorke suspected it was unlikely, as those leaders and planetary governments were far more likely to price gouge the Imperium with their unexpected monopoly over trade.
From a military perspective, the situation was equally grim.
What remained of the Imperial Army's command structure was fractured and split along several different camps as the highest-ranking officials of the Imperial Army in Angron's domain either died trying to hold together their forces or committed suicide, with one particular instance having been broadcast to the entire domain in an event that was still having a chilling impact on morale amongst the upper ranks.
There was little organization left among the forces that remained active and had not deserted or rebelled, with only the broadest goals of the Great Crusade being followed at any real scale.
A noticeable fraction of the planets that had been "conquered" over the past decade were likely skipped over or given massive diplomatic concessions by the local humans as the tithes that the administrative records of Terra were recording were barely half of what their projections said the domain should be capable of even after taking the Desolation into account.
And of the worlds that were actually being invaded, whether due to a breakdown in communications or simple human incompetence going unchecked by Imperial balances that had been utterly shattered, many worlds needed reinforcement due to being severely under-strength for the challenges they faced or severely over-strength as cowardly generals went to the least dangerous fronts.
But Lhorke's most pressing note of concern was the Lord Commande in command of Imperial Army assets in the region.
Of his skill at leadership or administration, Lhorke would be hard pressed to truly complain about the man as even Roboute Guilliman himself would struggle to address the sheer scale of the rot infecting the Imperial Army there, but what caught his attention was the reports from the World Eaters on Terra.
They said that Lord Commander Setbaq was a cruel and callous man, one who did not value human life in the least and only cared about the Imperial Army insofar as he could wield them to better kill enemies of the Imperium.
He was an Imperial fanatic, the most despicable type of individual that could be allowed within the Imperium and just barely toeing the line of zealotry and usefulness as he ordered the deployment of exterminatus weapons across the entire front of the Great Crusade, even against worlds that were amenable to peace talks.
Mortarion's usage of exterminatus weapons during the mass scale rebellions was cruel, yes, but there was always a point to it. It was never used against peaceful worlds that could be easily brought into compliance, nor was it used against loyal worlds, rather they were deployed against powerful threats or dangerous enemies who could grind down the Death Guard into a war that lasted decades, but that could be destroyed with a single device.
Exterminatus was a powerful tool, and one that needed to be deployed with the highest degree of consideration for the aftereffects as well as concerns for the political implications, and the Lord Commander was prepared to use it for even the slightest sign of disloyalty and reduce worlds to mere "testing sites."
The Lord Commander would have to go, whether peacefully through channels available to him in the Imperial Army on Terra or through use of force. He would not allow the people of Angron's domain to suffer any more than they needed to.
The Imperial Army as a whole was in shambles and suffering both morally and practically as the Great Crusade continued to demand their advance and now even the World Eaters had begun to take irreversible losses.
For all that Kharn's World Eaters were monstrous, they were still highly effective in combat with over a hundred thousand astartes that could easily deploy and cover the weakening Imperial Army while still hitting compliance targets.
Now however, not only had the Imperial Army's effective resources shrunk by an order of magnitude at least, the World Eaters had been hit just as badly if not worse both amongst the Heroes as well as the general ranks of their legion.
Angron was no longer participating in the Great Crusade, and despite his willingness to butcher entire worlds without considering larger strategic or political implications, he was still one of the greatest warriors in the Imperium's history and could win entire wars singlehandedly, and now he was effectively gone as an asset.
Hawkwood was once one of the best admirals within Angron's domain, second only to Lotarra Sarrin in his capabilities if he chose to abandon his morals and destroy everything in his path, but he had killed himself for reasons unknown to the World Eaters, depriving Lhorke of a useful asset.
Kargos would have been one of Lhorke's most important assets in the World Eaters as a man who was beloved by the entire legion and who could have served to balance out the voices of the extremists by building friendships across political lines and stabilizing the legion overall, but he had died to an assassin.
A suspicious death, but one without any evidence left behind for Lhorke to investigate that Mortarion had not already seen.
The officers of the World Eaters had also been massacred due to a combination of the butcher's nail and Angron's own incompetence as nearly of their most promising individuals died in the opening days of the Desolation.
The rank and file of the World Eaters were definitely hit the hardest of all though with their numbers reduced to nearly fifteen thousand, barely enough to invade a world classified as Medium through threat analysis without Hero assistance, and nowhere near enough to deal with Maximus Extremis worlds even with all the Heroes of the legion working together and being exceedingly cautious.
And now, Lhorke's thoughts turn to Kharn, the now ex-First Captain of the World Eaters.
He had played a critical role in holding together the World Eaters legion while Angron pillaged his way across human worlds, and it was he who allowed the degradation of the morals of the legion in a foolish attempt to reach out to their father.
It was Angron who had ordered the implanting of the Butcher's Nail on so many of it was brothers, but it was Kharn who allowed it to happen.
He was the closest to father of all of them, but Kharn allowed his short-sighted emotions to rule his judgement and chose to appease his father rather than make a stand while the Imperium was still young, while it still had a chance to remove the rot.
Instead, Kharn chose to support Angron's technologically enforced addiction to blood and slaughter, creating the disaster that necessitated the return of a failure of a legion master.
It was a spiteful, yet not inaccurate summary of the former First Captain. But could Lhorke claim to be better than him? Could he truthfully claim that he would not do as Kharn had done? To not allow himself to fall into jubilance over his father's return and objectively consider the wider strategic concerns of the Imperium?
That question stumped Lhorke for several hours as he went over the various contingencies and plans, he had created in those naive days in which he governed the legion, the time when he was hopeful that his father would be returned and bring the War Hounds to their true glory.
He would not stand against his father, not immediately.
It would be the slow work of decades, a mixed strategy of appeasement and appeals to others within the Imperium for aid on his father's behalf, reaching out to returned Primarchs, and perhaps, even the Emperor of Mankind for aid as he desperately hoped to avoid facing the Red Angel in combat.
But if the day ever came when he had to draw his blade against his father, Lhorke felt that even his bright-eyed younger self would still make the correct choice in the end, no matter the agony it caused him.
Even though he would be a shell of himself after carrying out the act.
Regardless of his opinions on Kharn's reign as First Captain, Lhorke finally found that he had enough information on the current struggles of the World Eaters to reach out to its most important members.
As word of the change in leadership within the World Eaters began to spread out to Angron's domain, it would doubtless lead to a great controversy within the legion for despite Kharn's failings, he remained an immensely popular figure.
Before the World Eaters knew what was happening, he needed to get ahead of the game and secure the support of the most critical members of the legion so that he could enter the political scene of the legion as a major player and not as Mortarion's pawn.
To that end, Lhorke sent out messages requesting the appearance of the most important officers of the legion, or at least the ones who would be likely to support him.
Thankfully, the Death Guards' omnipresent gaze over the actions of the World Eaters over the past decade bore fruit as several candidates to be brought to Terra could be quickly eliminated, reducing the remaining list of individuals to be summoned to his office only a dozen in total.
Lhorke considered reducing the size of the list to only the most important members of the legion out of concern for Kharn's allies crying for rebellion or starting a premature purge, but he was going to need every ounce of political support necessary to push his reforms through, and these leaders would be just barely enough to stabilize the legion during the transitional period.
There were a few members of note, including the chief techmarine of the World Eaters, the chief apothecary, and a few other sergeants as well as a promising recruit, but there were two individuals Lhorke needed on his side more than any other.
Macer Varren was one of the Heroes of the legion and easily one of the most skilled sword fighters in the galaxy, second only to true legends of skill such as Maticus Ventamedes or Sigismund.
Macer had proven himself as both a leader and a warrior and one of the few figures to successfully protest the actions of the Death Guard in their purges, managing to save a handful of innocent serfs who were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The First Captain of the Death Guard had personally exchanged words with the captain, but Macer had not budged from his stance and was able to out-stubborn Typhon as he just barely avoided conflict with the fourteenth legion as his confidence in the serfs' innocence was proven correct a few days later in a hasty trial with the actual guilty party then brought forth and executed in front of the entire legion.
Macer had been placed in chains for several days for his defiance, but his steadfast adherence to his morals had earned not just the respect of the World Eaters, but also the Death Guard as well who seemed to admire his will under such trying circumstances.
If all else failed, Macer would serve as a powerful advisor and political advocate within the legion, and if given just a bit more pragmatism and experience, perhaps even serve as Legion Master if Lhorke himself ever fell.
To that end, securing Macer's loyalty, or at the very least his respect, would go a long way towards endearing him to a group of World Eaters who only knew him as an aging dreadnought.
A knock on the door signaled his arrival, and the meters tall doors swung open as the Death Guard standing outside permitted entrance to the Hero of the World Eaters.
Macer marched through the door fully armored though without his signature sword as he noticed the man sitting at the desk.
A look of confusion was visible on his face as he beheld the returned Lhorke.
"Are you..."
Lhorke paused for a moment as Macer stood there silently, only to realize a detail that had slipped his mind. There were few left within the legion who remembered his face before his entombment, and the last remaining records of his face and histories existed as a series of scattered paintings, artworks, and stories made by long since forgotten or dead remembrancers.
"I am Lhorke, first Legion Master of the War Hounds, returned once more by the work of Magnus the Red and the will of the Death Lord," Lhorke said. "You are summoned now to affirm your oaths of loyalty to the cause of the Imperium and the legion Macer Varren."
Macer's eyes widened in shock as Lhorke as he understood what Lhorke was saying.
"Does this mean that the butcher is finally being removed from his position?"
"Yes, Macer, as of my full recovery from Magnus' healing efforts thirteen days ago, Mortarion has declared me the Legion Master of the War Hounds, with all military and legal powers and authorities over the domain stripped from Kharn and father effective immediately."
A long silence pervaded the room.
Then, Macer broke the silence with a laugh.
"Finally! This took far longer than it should have." Macer walked over to the desk and fell backwards into the offered chair, laughing all the while as a small hopeful smile lit his face.
"When I'd heard of the latest disagreement between the First Captain and the Primarch ending peacefully, I was afraid that Kharn had slipped through yet another Pimarch's justice once again, but with you here now, we might just have a chance."
Macer's positive reception to his return was unexpected, but a massive boon for the legion master, and a slight small unconsciously brought up the corners of his lips as Macer talked.
Macer continued to laugh and talk about his hopes for the future while Lhorke sat silently, allowing the captain to vent his frustration and relief so openly and in front of another legion, but Lhorke knew that Macer did not care about such things as privacy when it concerned the future of the legion.
When Macer was finally content and had said his piece, he sat back in his chair and released a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Well then, are you going to explain why you introduced yourself as Legion Master of the War Hounds and not the World Eaters?"
"It is the first step of my plan to reform the legion, the name World Eater is inherently tied to Kharn's butchery, and so long as we continue to wield that name, the Imperium will only fear and hate us."
"You are right on that my Lord." Macer nodded. "But the name of the War Hounds is not very well remembered, even amongst the legion. Kharn's bloody work did much to erase the good will that name generated."
"You are right on that count," Lhorke admitted. "But the ones who matter will remember, and to the rest, it will signify a willingness to change from the ground up which will be needed if we are ever to even reclaim a fraction of our former glory."
"Very well then," Macer said. "But I imagine the reason you called me here is not so much for approval over a simple name change, or for me to vent my frustrations, but your approval for whatever reforms youn have in mind?"
"Indeed."
Lhorke pulled out seventeen small plastic figurines, each one painted to match the colors and heraldry of one of the astartes legions and arranged them to face Macer.
"My plan is this, at the moment, the War Hounds numbers have been utterly ravaged, both by Mortarion's purges as well as the general pacing of the Great Crusade which has led to the ranks of the War Hounds at every level being left vacant or staffed by raw recruits, meaning our war efforts will be almost entirely dependent on the raw skill of new recruits."
"Has Mortarion lifted the restrictions on recruiting more astartes into our ranks?"
"The moment he appointed me Legion Master, he gave me the power to do so. But even still it will take time to find and train new neophytes into our ranks, and the few veterans we have will be too overloaded with the matters of the Great Crusade to effectively train the newest recruits and teach them our ways."
"Would it be possible to petition the Emperor for a slowing of the Great Crusade within our domain?" Macer asked. "If nothing else, the Imperial Army will need more time to rebuild and restructure themselves after the recent catastrophe."
"I asked the Death Lord, and unfortunately, he had already asked for a grace period from the Emperor while I was recovering and the Emperor demanded that the Great Crusade resume at full speed as soon as possible, with very little room for interpretation on when 'as soon as possible' could be."
Macer's fist clenched in anger, but Lhorke continued without mentioning it.
"Our only option is to prioritize the most important compliances while preserving as many of our numbers if we can, and in full truth, it is likely that we would be annihilated if the Death Guard did not offer to assist for now."
"Then what are our options, my lord?"
"At the moment, our only real choice is to reach out to the most powerful military leaders in the Imperium and beg for assistance, those being the Primarchs," Lhorke said. "If we can secure at least one thousand astartes from each legion, we should be able to weather the storm well enough to be back at full strength within a century."
Macer hesitated before he spoke.
"That sounds, exceedingly optimistic my Lord. Even we signed on to the legion exchange, the other legions would only be able to soften the blow partially, and we do not have the astartes to spare to return their donation."
"I know, and so we will not be joining the legion exchange."
Macer was confused at that.
"If we do not join the legion exchange, then how are we supposed to procure space marines from the other legions? We don't possess anywhere close to the resources needed to acquire the services of even half that number without sending over our own brothers?"
"This is where my plan comes in, Macer."
Lhorke pointed to each of the figures representing each legion.
"The legion exchange was designed as a step forward in military progress, a sign that the legions were capable of working together towards a shared goal, and that it was worthwhile to combine the specialties of all the legions when facing dangerous threats."
Lhorke clasped his hands together under his chin.
"But it was ultimately only a step, a mere thousand astartes in exchange for another thousand, and those foreign astartes were never considered part of the legion, only a group of outsiders occasionally called on for their unique skills and expertise. It was necessary at the time, but we can do better."
Lhorke stood up and grabbed each legion's figure, placing them close together and centering them on the War Hounds figure.
"The new War Hounds would represent the next stage of the Legion Exchange, where astartes from all legions gather together and form a unified front, fighting together not as cousins, but as brothers, and combining all their specialties together into the ultimate fighting machine."
Macer listened silently as Lhorke spoke and mulled over what he had just listened to.
"That certainly has an appeal to it, one I could see the other Primarchs finding attractive, but these are difficult times politically," Macer said. "Will these foreign astartes be made captains as I am to fill out our ranks or shall they remain as rank-and-file soldiers?"
"At the moment I was hoping to raise up some of the other legion's officers to positions of notable influence, such that they could spread their culture and skills within our ranks, but Mortarion has banned me from promoting any non-War Hound to any position equal to that of a sergeant," Lhorke said.
"A sensible decision, I think," Macer said. "Having foreign sergeants might speed up our development on paper, but I fear the other War Hounds would not take kindly to so much change so quickly."
"As long as I have the support of yourself and other important figures within the legion, I imagine such disturbances would be quickly managed."
"Quickly, yes, but not easily, and likely not without cost," Macer said hesitantly. "I admire the scale of this proposal, but I fear the political situation is far more polarizing than you are prepared for, brother."
"I am aware, have been far too distant in my time in the dreadnought, and I will need your advice on new recruits, as for now, I have decided to elevate you to the role of Master of Scouts."
Macer looked up, stunned.
"Are you sure my Lord? I have not been trained in the ways of such a position. I am not certain of the responsibilities such a role entails."
"You will have all the assistance you need to get the job done," Lhorke said with a wave of his hand. "You have already had a great impact on others within the legion, and as the legion continues to grow and strengthen, I would prefer to see more of my brothers like you, not less."
Macer was silent for a long minute as he thought over Lhorke's words.
"I have only ever done what I thought was right Lhorke, I am not sure I can teach that to my brothers.'
"Our brothers a few decades ago were taught to be beasts, I am certain you can teach a man to be a better one."
Macer sighed, and then got up to his feet.
"Then when shall I start, my Lord?"
"As soon as you can, I have already prepped a ship to return you to the Conqueror with full haste. You will need to start the recruitment process as soon as possible."
Macer nodded and then bowed once more before leaving to carry out his new duties.
The moment Macer left the room, Lhorke leaned back in his chair and sighed.
He had not expected this to go as well as it did. Lhorke had been slightly worried that Macer might be morally outraged at his sudden takeover of the legion, but on the contrary, the captain had been all too pleased to be rid of Kharn and welcome a new Legion Master.
Lhorke could only hope that the rest of his meetings would go as smoothly.
It seemed fate was on his side as he met with the next few leaders of the World Eaters.
The chief apothecary had little of substance to say, but he had pledged his support after only a few minutes of debate and a promise to keep quiet until Lhorke returned to the front lines.
From there Lhorke met with a handful of sergeants, most of whom had previously displayed grievances with Kharn's leadership over the legion with one in particular having done so even before the events of the Desolation.
All of them had quickly pledged their loyalty to the legion, and as Lhorke found himself with a bit of free time before his next visitor arrived, the Legion Master began the task of writing out his proposition to the Primarchs in letter form.
Lhorke did not expect his letters to achieve much due to his lack of presence in larger galactic politics as well as never even having met a Primarch in person, but making sure they were aware of his plans was a step towards receiving larger support.
From the Dark Angels, Lhorke did not expect much of anything. They were a highly secretive legion who kept their cards close to their chest and sending Astartes half a galaxy without good reason was likely out of the question. That Lion himself was a staunch loyalist too would drastically reduce the chances of him being willing to help in the first place.
The Emperor's Children were a possible source of astartes and their knowledge of public relations could help turn the propaganda wars back in the Imperium's favor. However, as a loyalist legion they would be a source of internal strife and he had heard many tales of the things the Emperor's Children do when they believe their honor had been besmirched.
The Iron Warriors by contrast seemed to be in favor of the rebel cause, politically speaking, but the Lord of Iron seemed much more focused on his own internal projects than the matters of other legions, insofar as Lhorke was aware. He might help if his services were bought, but no more than however much he believed Lhorke's time was worth.
The White Scars were sent a request letter merely as a formality. Lhorke did not wish to incense the Khan by excluding him from the unified legion project, but the Legion Master already knew him to be disinterested in the Imperium as a whole, and so no help at all would be coming from them.
The Space Wolves were altogether not too dissimilar from the old War Hounds, and Lhorke could very easily see the Wolves of Fenris fitting in well with the current legion were it not in total disarray. Leman Russ would likely be interested, but unless either the War hounds stabilized or the Imperium did, it would likely be sometime before the Wolves of Fenris came to assist in any real numbers.
His next letter was sent to the Imperial Fists, another legion that was sent a letter more as a formality than any real plea for support. The Praetorian of Terra was utterly disinterested in the non-Loyalist legions, and although the strengths of the Imperial Fists would have been useful, Lhorke had no desire to deal with the problems of a second traumatized legion.
The Night Lords were yet another bust as far as Lhorke was concerned. Although Konrad Kurze had shocked the entire galaxy by coming out in support of Vulkan's reforms, the Night Lords had thrown themselves into a galaxy's worth of work as they dealt with espionage and sabotage from both within and without the Imperium, and that was without even considering their work to implement the reforms which left them devoid of resources to give him.
The Blood Angels were the legion Lhorke would have been happiest to receive support from, in many ways. The Primarch Sanguinius was a pillar of nobility and beloved across the Imperium, and the tactics of the Blood Angels were on a personal, tactical, and strategic scale very similar to the War Hounds, however the odds of receiving that support were slim due to larger political concerns.
A Death Guard spoke up as he handed off the letter to the Blood Angels to a serf, warning him of the arrival of his next visitor in the Sol system, this individual being the second most important Hero in Lhorke's plan to reform the War Hounds.
Lhorke considered the time to travel from the edge of Sol to Terra and felt that he had time to write his next letter before the World Eater arrived.
His final letter was written out to the Iron Hands and written once again as a formality due to Ferrus Manus' political position. Ferrus lacked the nobility of Fulgrim, so he could be hardly counted on to contribute anything if at all. They would have been helpful in rebuilding the techmarines organization, but ultimately, he could do without them.
With his final letter sent out, Lhorke took a few moments to relax as he considered his next visitor.
Vorias, chief librarian of the World Eaters was one of the few remaining veterans of the Great Crusade before Angron's arrival. He was as old as Lhorke himself and a veteran from the days of the War Hounds, and perhaps the only individual Lhorke was certain he could truly trust.
However, Lhorke had also not spoken with the librarian for some time as Vorias had been largely occupied with preserving the librarius within Kharn's World Eaters and managed to preserve a few dozen psychic astartes in addition to himself over the course of a century.
Unfortunately, Vorias' trials had only grown in recent decades as the Bloody Laughter shattered the minds of psykers across the galaxy, including one of Vorias' own friends, and the arrival of the Death Guard meant that the pitifully few librarians that remained were facing increased pressure from both the Imperial Army and within the legion.
It was a testament to Vorias' skill and hard work over the past century that none of his librarians were ever executed by the Death Guard as they faced many times more suspicion and fear than even their Nail'd brothers.
Lhorke himself was wary of psykers, but Vorias had done little but prove himself as both a War Hound and a World Eater as a leader capable of doing what needed to be done, and his psykers were as resilient as he was.
Lhorke would need Vorias' wisdom, for the legion's difficulties would only grow once the Death Guard left Angron's domain in droves to deploy elsewhere.
The chief librarian's careful guidance and years of experience within the legion would make him Lhorke's most knowledgeable political ally by far on matters concerning the War Hounds, even if he himself was largely regarded as an outsider.
The door opened, and in stepped Vorias, a weary and tired look on his face as he walked into Lhorke's office.
Upon noticing Lhorke, the chief librarian sighed and quietly moved to sit down in the chair in front of Lhorke's desk.
"So, it's done then, old friend?" Vorias asked. "The War Hounds have returned?"
"Yes Vorias, we're back," Lhorke said with a sad smile on his face.
For several hours, the two conversed casually, reminiscing over past glories long since forgotten by the Imperium of Man.
The Legion Master was ashamed to admit he had forgotten much of what Vorias was speaking of but said nothing as he allowed the weary old man to remember the glory days of the legion, when they were whole and not broken.
It was strange now, to talk to someone about the old days without that fog clouding his mind. Lhorke was not sure if it was a pleasant feeling. His stomach felt like it was twisting and turning as Vorias recounted what the old days were like.
When Vorias finally grew tired of his nostalgia, he turned back to Lhorke.
"I apologize, but it has been some time since there has been hope for our legion."
"I understand Vorias, truly I do."
"Well enough from me then, tell me, what is your plan to save our legion?"
"My plan is to gather a legion made up of astartes from all the space marine legions present in the Imperium. This is not the legion exchange however; we will not be sending any resources back to the legions who help us."
"I see," Vorias said as he leaned back. "How do you plan to convince the Primarchs to aid us then?"
"Unlike the legion exchange, in which the foreign astartes maintained their own separate command structures, we will be placing our cousins within our own command structure, giving them leadership roles and positions of influence so that they can better help us while we recover our numbers," Lhorke said.
"And you are hoping to entice the Primarchs by presenting it as an interesting project then, one in which we will be repaying them later through future favors and services once we are back at full strength I assume?"
"Yes, that is the idea, at least." Lhorke looks down at his rough record of the remaining officers within the War Hounds ranks, one which had far too many seats left unfilled.
"At the moment, by Mortarion's own orders, I am not permitted to raise any non-War Hound space marine to any rank higher than Sergeant, or its equivalent across the various branches of our legion."
"A sensible order." Vorias nodded. "Not only would you be giving a great deal of influence to foreign legions, but you would also be crippling us if those legions ever withdrew their support and left us with gaping holes in our ranks."
"I am aware of the risk, but our options to address this crisis are few, and if we can achieve even a decade of breathing room for our legion to grow, then we will be in a far better position to deal with those events as they occur."
"I see," Vorias said, perhaps slightly unsatisfied but unwilling to push the issue further. "Then what role shall the Librarius play during this time period?"
"Rebuild as quickly as you can of course, I have already waived any legal barriers standing in your way so the faster you can raise our psyker numbers the better, though I cannot emphasize how important it is that any librarians we deploy be strong in mind and soul."
Vorias grinned at that.
"It will be done with all haste Lhorke, under my watch, the Librarius of the War Hounds will be the greatest of our warriors."
Vorias paused as he considered his next question.
"Shall I be expecting foreign psykers within our ranks then?"
"If the legions send them, then yes."
Vorias hummed to himself.
"Then if it is possible, I would prefer if we could acquire the services of psykers from the Thousand Sons and the Eternal Wardens. The Thousand Sons are the most gifted psykers in the galaxy, and the Eternal Wardens are said to have the strongest willpower of all the legions."
"I will make sure to emphasize that then when I send my message to their Primarchs, though I make no guarantee."
"That is all I ask for then."
Vorias rose to his feet and made to leave, but then stopped as he reached the door and turned back.
"OH, and one there is one more matter of import, Legion Master, if you are not busy."
"I have time, speak," Lhorke said with a wave of his hand. His next appointment was a week away, and the only other urgent task he had to attend to was finishing his request letters to the Primarchs.
"It is important that you are aware of this, your ascension to Legion Master was not expected, but Kharn's fall from grace was," Vorias said carefully. "When you were brought into that arena by Lord Mortarion and your near-lifeless body dragged out, it caused a minor panic amongst the lower ranks, and even the officers."
"Our duel was not exactly a quiet affair." Lhorke already knew this, and his hope was that his potential political opponents thought this his execution and not his promotion. The success of his return necessitated him to return suddenly and with great support, such that even if Kharn objected to Lhorke's takeover, his allies would not be in place in time to force the issue.
"Yes, but a few days before I left, there was whispers of a secret alliance of World Eaters meeting on Terra to discuss the future of the legion now that you were dead, and Kharn all but considered to be."
Lhorke grimaced at that. It was far too close to the truth for his liking, and the last thing the legion needed was talks of conspiracy throughout the legion causing infighting before he was ready to return.
"I see." An unfortunate turn of events, but not one he was unprepared for.
"I should mention that it is likely that Kharn himself already suspects the truth, even if he is not aware that you have been restored to your original body, Lhorke," Vorias said with a hint of worry in his eyes.
"Do not worry yourself on my account, Vorias. Whether here on Terra or on the Conqueror itself, Kharn will never find a chance to end me before I return our legion to glory."
Vorias sighed.
"All I ask is that you make sure you do not underestimate the man who has faced Primarchs and lived."
With that, Vorias departed.
Lhorke spent several minutes contemplating the information Vorias had given him.
The pessimist within him feverishly argued that one of his contacts had backstabbed him, spreading rumors across the legion in a manner that was deniable so that neither Kharn nor Lhorke would suspect their identity, setting up the two for a fatal clash that would see one or both dead.
The realist in him however argued that this was merely an accident, with the mortal crews of the ships having talked too much for their own good, or perhaps a few space marines had simply seen one of the ships depart in Terra's general direction.
Either way, these rumors were likely to stir the more fanatical World Eaters into action to band together and protect Kharn, making his return and subsequent takeover a slightly more difficult prospect now.
Lhorke flexed his hand and tested his strength, grimacing as he felt a twinge in his hand that lingered as he relaxed his body.
Not yet, he still needed more time to recover his old strength before he could consider retaking the legion.
Lhorke needed more time, time he was not sure humanity had left to give.
With nothing else to do, Lhorke resumed his work on his recruitment letters to the legions.
His next letter was for the Eternal Wardens, a legion that Lhorke knew surprisingly little about. Even on Terra itself, finding documentation on the Wardens and their campaigns was surprisingly sparse on detail, mainly containing stories of the Heroes and their skill such as Maticus and their First Captain Oriacarius, but even those stories omitted a great deal of information.
Lhorke had hoped that he might be able to meet with the Eleventh Primarch himself, as he was presently on Terra for reasons unknown to the Legion Master, but Kesar Dorlin was a hard man to meet with even now and none of his requests for a meeting had received a response for reasons unknown to Lhorke.
As for the Wardens themselves, their techniques and skills that allowed them to maintain their mental resilience were said to be legendary and their brotherhood would mesh well with the War Hounds, but despite being politically aligned with the Rebels, the Wardens had recently taken over command over the Maelstrom Reclamation.
It was unlikely that Lhorke would receive any astartes from them to say the least for if even half the stories of the Maelstrom were true, they might be the ones asking for help from other Primarchs before the end of the century.
Mortarion was already aware of Lhorke's planned reforms and so he did not need to bother sending him a letter, and so the Legion Master began writing to the Thousand Sons legion.
The Thousand Sons were the smallest of all the legions, but on an astartes-to-astartes basis, they were easily the most powerful due to their innate mastery over psychic powers. Getting even one Thousand Son would be a massive boon, equivalent to a planetary library's worth of psychic lore and knowledge, and although Lhorke was personally uncertain on the reliability of psykers, the War Hounds would need their strength before the end.
Lhorke was confident that even if a detachment of Thousand Sons was out of the question, the chance to work in and build the librarius of a different legion would be an enticing prospect for a few of their number at the very least.
Lhorke's next letter was the one he considered most likely to succeed, as it was written to the Ultramarines legion. From what he understood, Roboute Guilliman had taken a heavy interest in the stability of the Imperium and had by far the most astartes of any legion. A chance to stabilize another legion with a few thousand astartes was well within his capabilities, especially if he believed that Lhorke would be a capable and stable leader.
The Luna Wolves were another source of hope for Lhorke. Although the legion was not quite as numerous or consistently benevolent as the Ultramarines, it was Horus who had initially proposed the Legion exchange and he would certainly be interested in Lhorke's plans. The only problems then were political, as Horus would need every astartes he had to support Vulkan's cause, and he might have the resources to invest in the War Hounds' future.
The Salamanders, despite Lhorke's own request, were in truth a legion Lhorke did not want help from. Vulkan was badly overstretched as the Imperium left him to rot and put his reforms into motion all by himself and the logistical nightmare he was experiencing would only grow in scale, not lessen.
Perhaps Lhorke could get some assistance from the ruler of Nocturne if he began putting into place a limited set of Vulkan's proposed reforms, but that would likely add more to his own struggles more than reduce it, for he would need a Hero of Vulkan's legion at bare minimum and likely more to make up for the resources invested into it.
The local Imperial Army might appreciate it, but who knows how the wider Imperium or the other Primarchs might feel if they felt their sons were being wasted in what they believed to be a pointless endeavor.
Lhorke's final letter was to the Raven Guard. Although the Raven Lord and his sons might not be compatible in terms of combat style, they would still provide a valuable niche within the War Hounds if they joined. There was a small chance too, that Corvus Corax would send assistance as he was said to be remarkably close to Guilliman and the Ultramarines.
Ultimately though, Lhorke was not too keen to hold out hope on the willingness of the nineteenth Primarch to help.
With his last letter sent, Lhorke finally sat back and relaxed.
He would have some time before he needed to worry about any more visitors, and so Lhorke would use that time to retrain his combat skills.
But just as Lhorke made ready to depart his office, a Death Guard watching over the room walked over to him and quietly whispered in his ear.
The Legion Master froze as he comprehended what he was being told.
Kharn, the former First Captain of the World Eaters, was outside his door seeking an audience with the new Legion Master of the World Eaters.
Lhorke froze, stunned into silence as his mind raced to understand just how and why Kharn had ended up outside his door so suddenly and without warning.
But no matter what Lhorke thought of this sudden turn of events, whether it was through some act of betrayal or through Kharn being far more intelligent than Lhorke had expected, the former First Captain of the World Eaters was here and requesting an audience.
The wording of the request was important, and the Death Guard confirmed that this was not a demand, but a request from Kharn.
Lhorke almost considered rejecting Kharn's visit out of hand, but if he was going to get any real answers in a time period that mattered for his purposes, it would have to come directly from the World eater himself.
This was a dangerous position, as even with his contingent of Death Guard surrounding the room, Kharn was one of the most dangerous warriors in the entire galaxy. Lhorke's only real chance of survival if he agreed to meet would be to run and hope the Custodes reached his position in time to aid, or perhaps that the Lord Primarch Kesar himself exited his seclusion to aid him.
Either way, it was a dangerous proposition, but if Kharn thought he would go down without a fight, he was wrong.
Lhorke nodded to his watchers, and with great reluctance, the Death Guard who transmitted the request stood back up and told the guards outside to let Kharn enter.
The door opened and the Death Guard astartes tightened their grips on their weapons as Kharn walked in.
Kharn walked in with a confident smile, carrying a small box under his left arm as he marched across the room without so much as acknowledging the astartes on either side of him ready for combat.
"Greetings brother, I hope your new body is treating you well."
"... It's been a slow recovery, but I should be back at full strength soon." Lhorke's eyes narrowed as he watched Kharn's approach.
"That's good, I was hoping to congratulate you on your ascension to Legion Master of the World Eaters." Kharn looked down at the emblem on Lhorke's pauldron. "Well, I suppose it would be the War Hounds in your case."
"Why are you here Kharn?" Lhorke cut straight to the point, taking care to keep his expression neutral.
"Come now brother, there is no need for such hostility." Kharn sat down across from Lhorke and placed the box under his arm on the table. "These are all the records I could find that are relevant to the Maelstrom. They include Imperial Army numbers, the names and records of a few of our more skilled generals in the area, detailed descriptions of current Imperial compliances, as well as a general overview of the assets under the control of the legion."
Lhorke carefully reached over and pulled out one of the data slates Kharn was carrying. It was a status report on the compliance of one General Castinus Lafheim, an Imperial Army General whose strategy largely revolved around asymmetrical warfare and a particular knack for operating at a low cost with few casualties. This report was due to a request for astartes aid after being caught and outnumbered by a local xeno population.
Lhorke quickly skimmed through more data slates, and found no inaccuracies or missing information, but he would need a deeper dive to make sure Kharn had not given him falsified data.
Kharn meanwhile was content to sit and wait, occasionally remarking on a few reports or pointing out potential contacts for the War Hounds within the Imperium to reach out to for support but otherwise keeping silent.
Lhorke looked up from the data Kharn had brought him to observe the former First Captain, whose smile had not diminished in the slightest since walking in.
"This will be useful, but I am at a loss as to how you assembled all this data in such short fashion," Lhorke asked carefully. There was enough information gathered here for Lhorke to make a massive head start in restoring order to Angron's domain, but the sheer quantity of the data gathered would indicate that Kharn had been working on this long before Mortarion approached him.
"It's been a side-project of mine for a few years now, though I have not been able to act on much of it due to Mortarion's restrictions," Kharn said sadly. "But if nothing else, I am glad that it will be able to help you now."
Lhorke blinked, unsure how to react to Kharn's response. Lhorke knew that Kharn was highly intelligent, but that he was acting so graciously to his replacement felt off to the Legion Master.
"And how exactly did learn that I was on Terra, and that Mortarion had made me Legion Master?" Was it simply a lucky guess on Kharn's part? That he had simply assumed Mortarion had chosen a replacement and that his presence on Terra was connected to that? But how then did he know that Lhorke was the one chosen to be Legion Master?
"Well to be honest, I had suspected you were Legion Master ever since the day you walked into the arena and Mortarion had his sons drag you out," Kharn stated, as if that made any sense.
"And you did not think Mortarion wanted me dead or executed?"
"Unlikely, if Mortarion wanted any of us dead, we would not know until our fates were already sealed, though it was a bit of a surprise when I arrived on Terra and learned that the Primarch Magnus had restored your old body, and at the Death Lord's request no less," Kharn laughed at that.
Lhorke remained silent a bit longer and Kharn continued.
"To think that mere decades ago, Mortarion would have executed Magnus on the spot for even considering such an idea, and now here he is, requesting a favor from a psyker of all things to use his witchery on one of his own servants." Kharn laughed once again.
"Is it really so absurd Kharn? Lord Magnus was available to assist and the Primarch considered it a valuable trade," Lhorke said. "Lord Mortarion is not so incapable of reason as to avoid a simple and easy solutions to his challenges."
Kharn laughed at that.
"You really have no idea what the Primarchs are like, do you?" Kharn sobered up quickly as he spoke. "The Primarchs don't care about reason or common logic, they exist beyond such things, for the galaxy always twists and turns to show that they are right, no matter how foolish their ideas may seem."
Kharn continued. "Mortarion despised psykers, he hated them so completely that the slightest hint of a psyker being near would drive him into a killing frenzy. Still cold and detached, but utterly incapable of seeing reason or even entertaining the thought of diplomacy."
"The Mortarion, the Pale King of Barbarus, would change his mind so quickly and so easily on the usage of psykers, and even consider owing a favor to one? Utterly absurd," Kharn said.
"You underestimate Mortarion's ability to change."
"And you underestimate the stubbornness of a Primarch, and Mortarion is the most stubborn of all," Kharn said with a hint of annoyance slightly annoyance. "For them, entire centuries can go by in a time that we would consider months, and mortals, even astartes, are but mayflies in comparison to the vast worlds they live and breathe in."
"Could you imagine, Lhorke, changing your mind on a matter such as the reforms in a matter of minutes, through mere debate and discussion with someone you hate?"
Lhorke wanted to refute his point, but ultimately, he found himself agreeing. Lhorke could hardly imagine his political opinions shifting towards loyalist ideals within days, let alone minutes as Kharn proposed. And given the suspected biological immortality of the Primarchs in addition to their innate genius, it was hard to disagree that Mortarion's sudden change of heart regarding psykers was swift.
"The Primarchs are beyond such things as simple reasoning. They are capable of adding one and two together and getting ten thousand with the faintest exertions of their wills. As such, I recommend that you abandon things such as reason and logic when it comes to the Primarchs, for they do not understand, nor could they understand the human mindset and understanding of time." Kharn sat back in his chair and smirked confidently.
"Even still," Lhorke spoke carefully, "I believe you underestimate the ability of Primarch's to learn and change if given the chance. Mortarion was given that chance by events in the Imperium, and so it does not surprise me that he would be willing to change his stance on psykers after seeing their usefulness."
"Mortarion was forced to change by circumstances far beyond his control, the same as our father was, only at a far less cost to himself." Kharn frowned. "The change was not genuine; it was merely a pragmatic choice to temper his emotions in favor of his greater desires."
"Is that how you see the Primarchs then? Eternal beings made of illogical reason and perpetual, unchanging desire?" Lhorke did not, could not, agree with Kharn's fundamental reasoning on the nature of Primarchs.
The Primarchs were not immune to the logics or values of other beings, he had seen it himself when he faced the Death Lord in combat. The slightest shift in his eyes, an acknowledgement that he had been wrong in his estimation of Lhorke and that his judgement had failed him.
Kharn's judgement of the Primarchs was based on their father who was permanently bound to the whims of the Butcher's Nail. His judgement of Angron was likely far better than Lhorke's could ever be, but of the Primarchs as a whole, Lhorke rejected the idea.
Kharn sighed.
"You will not understand my view, nor ever, I suppose. You and I have lived lives too different from one another to truly understand what the Primarchs truly are." Kharn looked down, some indescribable emotion upon his face as he looked to the future.
"Nevertheless, I hope you will one day realize the true nature of the Primarchs as I do, for you will need them far more than I ever did."
Lhorke went to speak, when a Death Guard suddenly raised a hand and spoke.
"My lords, there is someone outside, it's..." The Death Guard pauses, unsure of what to say.
Lhorke and Kharn exchanged a look, hoping the other had an answer. When neither did, Lhorke turned towards the guard.
"We are busy at the moment, if you could redirect them to return within an hours' time then-"
"But my Lord, it's-"
Click.
The door opens, and in steps a giant figure.
Piercing eyes capture his gaze, an otherworldly wisdom and care radiating across the room as they greet all with gentle respect. Flowing golden locks frame his flawless features, leaving him the envy and desire of many.
He wears dark crimson robes that lightly graze the floor with each step, giving him a grandiosity that surpasses that of kings. Behind him, pure white feathery wings reflect the light of the room, giving him a halo akin to that of a mythological angel.
But above all else, his mere presence rekindles something deep within the astartes present, some unexplainable, indescribable feeling of joy. A joy that lives on and gives birth to the light of hope, even in a galaxy shrouded by darkness.
He is the Brightest, The Archangel, the Master of Hosts, the Beatific, the Angel of Baal, and so much more.
He is Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels space marine legion, and the Hero who dreams of greatness in spite of the darkness that clouds the world.
Sanguinius smiles.
The room freezes, caught in the gentle twinkle of his eyes as he speaks. Even Kharn himself can do nothing but sit in awe as the Archangel's presence swallows up the attentions of all.
"Forgive me for this interruption, Lord Lhorke, but this sudden meeting was a surprise for me as well," Sanguinius says, his voice strong yet comforting.
Lhorke is speechless for a moment, but he finally finds the words to speak.
"Yes, Lord Primarch, I was merely in discussion with the former First Captain over the transition of authority over the War Hounds legion," Lhorke said.
"It is good that you are able to carry this matter out peacefully." Sanguinius nods. "In times such as these, the more we are able to resolve matters diplomatically, the better."
"Yes indeed, Lord Primarch," Lhorke says. "Is there something you needed then, my lord?"
"Yes, nephew, I received your letter about the Unified Legion project a few days ago and I wanted to discuss it in greater detail," Sanguinius replied. "I was already planning to spend some time on Terra anyway, and so this unique opportunity was provided to the two of us."
"Of course," Sanguinius turns to Kharn who has remained silent so far, "only so long as you do not mind this disruption, of course."
"No offense taken, Lord Sanguinius, your time is more valuable than mine after all, by all means." Kharn stepped away and walked over to the wall to lean against it.
Lhorke shifted uncomfortably as a couple of Blood Angels brought in an appropriately sized chair for the Archangel who then sat down across from the Legion Master of the War Hounds.
"Well then, Lhorke," Sanguinius says, "I would like to hear why you believe the Unified Legion project to be worth the lives of my sons."
Lhorke took a deep breath and calmed himself down, shaking off Sanguinius' aura as he focused on convincing the Primarch.
"The first and greatest benefit of the Unified Legion Project is that it will allow us to stabilize the region with the influx of space marines in the region. Lord Mortarion did well to purge our most despicable members from the legion but now we are few enough in number that we cannot both effectively grow and maintain pace with the demands of the Great Crusade."
"Forgive me if I am mistaken," Sanguinius says, "But all reports I have recieved from the Imperial Army indicate that the region has been largely stable since the arrival of the DEath Guards' arrival. Are these reports mistaken?"
A dangerous question. Despite his misgivings with some of the leaders of the Imperial Army, Lhorke did not have the political support yet to openly discuss his issues, not even with a Primarch.
"Those reports were not incorrect," Lhorke says, careful to not fully confirm the Imperial Army's message, "however, Lord Mortarion has also indicated in private discussion that he intends to withdraw from the region soon to deal with troublesome elements within his own domain. The War Hounds will not be enough to deal with the coming threats once that occurs." He left the matter of the potential Imperial assassins unspoken.
"I see," Sanguinius says, giving no voice to his thoughts on the matter.
"The second greatest benefit is that the Unified Legion project would also serve as a testbed for future combined legion efforts," Lhorke says. "I am planning to place several outside officers into our own command structure, and I expect it will be unstable at first due to conflicting military doctrines, but in time the reformed War Hounds will become one of the most flexible and all-around effective fighting forces within the Imperium."
"I can see the benefit of this, but would it not be more efficient for the Great Crusade if you treated foreign astartes in the same manner as the Legion Exchange, with each foreign legion maintaining their own command disciplines?" Sanguinius asked.
"In the short term yes, but due to the nature of the Great Crusade, I expect that the Unified Legion project will be much more effective at fostering a sense of shared responsibility by binding the legions together as one," Lhorke said. "The legion exchange mainly exists as a way to access the specialties of separate legions; I want to extend that further and incorporate those disciplines directly into the War Hounds in order to meet the variable threats we face."
Sanguinius hummed, a look of dissatisfaction on his face.
"I will not lie Lhorke, you ask a great deal not just of myself, but my brothers as well. This is an investment into the wellbeing of another legion on a scale that is unheard of," Sanguinius stroked his chin in thought. "I am not averse to providing the aid you seek, but I have grave doubts, particularly with how you offer nothing in return for the space marines you are requesting."
"I have promised favors in return for every space marine given, Lord Primarch, and I do have the authority to slow down the Great Crusade within my father's domain if necessary to meet your demands," Lhorke said, but he already knew it was not enough. He would need to give something tangible to have even a remote chance of recieving support, and he had nothing left to give.
And Sanguinius knew this all too well.
"I understand you have made promises, but my domain requires the full strength of my legion as badly as yours does, and you cannot promise that even if I provide aid, that my brothers will as well," Sanguinius says. "Unless you can prove that this endeavor will be worthwhile for the Imperium, I cannot support your cause."
"The Unified Legion project will be worthwhile; the preservation of the War Hounds legion alone should be enough to convince you of this." Something about this conversation felt off to Lhorke. Sanguinius was far less receptive to his idea than his analysis of the Primarch's tendencies should indicate. There was something he had to be missing.
"Should the War Hounds legion fall, trillions of humans would perish before order could be restored, especially if the legions are too occupied with other threats to see the rot I am trying to excise before it is too late," Lhorke said, careful to maintain his composure. "It would reverse Mortarion's work over the past decade and far exceed the original decimation, creating a void in space where humanity once stood."
"That would only be the case if the Emperor allowed the legion to fail, and did not act before that occurred," Sanguinius said with a strange degree of coldness. "It is far more likely that the legion will simply be dissolved, and the responsibilities of Angron's territory would be divided between the other legions."
Lhorke paused. On the surface, it was not a terrible idea from an outside perspective. The dissolving of the War Hounds, still publicaly known as the World Eaters, would help the Imperium recoup some public favor by punishing those who were seen as most responsible for the Desolation.
However, it would also mean that the Primarchs closest to Angron's domain, namely Mortarion, would be overstretched and potentially undermanned for the sheer workload that came from managing even a quarter of another domain. The possibility for multiple threats that required a Primarch's appearance was too great.
But there was something worse, for there was no doubt that such a plan would be used to adversely weaken the reform favoring legions. Primarchs like Vulkan and Konrad who were already badly overworked would be given even more.
This simple solution would make the works of multiple Primarchs several times harder, and their chances of preventing such a law from being put into place was near zero.
For who would even bother to speak on behalf of the War Hounds in such a case?
"My Lord Primarch, the Great Crusade has already been challenging enough for the legions and the Imperial Army, what you suggest would slow down and hinder their efforts far more than simply strengthening the position of my legion."
"I agree," Sanguinius nodded. "But ultimately, the biggest problem with the War Hounds legion remaining is that my brothers and I cannot be sure that the cost of the War Hounds staying is less than the cost of bearing their burden ourselves."
Sanguinius looked directly into Lhorke's eyes, a grim look on his face.
"The Primarchs can bear the weight of a thousand more worlds, but the Imperium cannot be allowed to suffer a second Angron."
A chill ran up his spine.
He felt rage, indignation, sorrow, and wrath all building in his veins as his finger twitched towards the power sword resting next to the table beside him.
Rage on behalf of a father who never loved them.
Rage on behalf of a father who never cared for them.
Rage for a father who chewed them and spit them out of his mouth like they were worthless dogs.
A father who had been trapped in a cage and forced to kneel against his will, for a father of his own who demanded a billion worlds be wrapped in chains.
Sanguinius sighed at Lhorke's silence.
"You have made a strong case, Lhorke, and I am sure the other Primarchs will send you aid." The archangel stood, towering over Lhorke and bearing a sad smile.
"But I cannot be sure that you are any different than the brother I failed."
"There is one important detail you are missing, my Lord."
Kharn stepped forward, an easy smile on his face, as though he had not just heard Sanguinius speak ill of the father he loved more than himself.
"Lhorke will be different from my father, I am certain of it."
Sanguinius turned to look at the former First Captain.
"And why is that?" he asked.
"Two reasons, reasons I believe you are all too aware of yet refuse to acknowledge," Kharn said smugly.
"Firstly, in his time as legion master, Lhorke's record was nothing less than stellar, with civilian and friendly casualties as well as general morale at the best this region of the galaxy has ever seen, only second in success to the Ultramarines or Salamanders before their Primarch was found."
"I have no doubt that Lhorke is a capable commander, there is no need to remind me of that," Sanguinius eyed Lhorke coolly.
"Secondly, Lhorke was in a dreadnought for the entirety of Angron's reign over the legion. Is it truly so fair and righteous of you to judge Lhorke for actions he had no part in?"Kharn asked. "Is it so fair to judge a man bound with chains for not stopping the atrocities occurring outside of his jail cell?"
Sanguinius stared at Kharn for a long moment, staying silent as he judged the man standing before him. His eyes contained the barest hints of emotion, though whether it was shame or anger, Lhorke could not quite be sure.
Kharn smiled back.
After a long minute, Sanguinius looked down at the floor, and thought for another long moment.
"Very well," Sanguinius said.
The archangel looked up and stared at Lhorke, his expression completely unreadable to the Legion Master.
"I shall send you thirty thousand of my sons as well as one of my most skilled sons, Mkani Kano. I trust you shall treat my sons well."
What?
Thirty thousand astartes?
And a Blood Angel renowned as a Hero of his legion?
Lhorke quickly stood up, eager to break the silence he had accidentally made as the Primarch looked at him expectantly.
"Thank you Lord Sanguinius, I promise you your sons will be safe in the care of the War Hounds legion." Lhorke stood to the side of his desk and kneeled. "I swear this debt shall be repaid in full once the War Hounds legion returns to full strength.'
"See that it is so, nephew, I expect you to carry out great deeds one day."
Sanguinius then turned towards the door and began to walk away, pausing momentarily to stare at Kharn as he passed by.
It was then that Lhorke finally noticed something that had been bothering him for the past few minutes about the Primarch.
The light that shone from the fixtures above was bright, and yet Sanguinius' body was not casting a shadow.
The Angel of Baal left, and Lhorke found his chance to answer his questions gone.
The Legion Master leaned back in his seat and breathed out, releasing the tension that had built up in his body as a worry that he had been holding back was finally released.
This was far beyond even his wildest expectations for the Unified Legion project.
In truth, he had only expected a thousand astartes from two or three legions at best, and nothing at worst to give him just barely enough breathing room to handle a few battles.
But to receive thirty thousand space marines as well as one of the most well-known Heroes in that legion too?
Lhorke could hardly believe it.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed Kharn leaving the room. As his hand reached out for the doorknob, Lhorke spoke up.
"Kharn, I have one last question for you," he said.
"That being?" Kharn paused at the door and faced Lhorke, almost surprised as if he had expected there to be nothing else worth discussing.
"The records of the legion, the advice on the nature of Primarchs, even dealing with Sanguinius' doubts to ensure that the legion receives support, I do not understand why you have done this," Lhorke said.
"You expected me to be angry about this transfer of power," Kharn said more than asked. "All I have ever done is for Father's sake, that is all there is to it."
Kharn sighed and looked down.
"The truth is, I only have two choices now. I don't want you in charge of the legion. You're too cautious, you focus too much on civilian lives, and you don't have the strength to do what needs to be done." Kharn turned to face Lhorke once more, the life in his eyes all but gone. "But the only other choice is that my father's life ends upon the executioner's blade, and I can tolerate one outcome more than the other."
"Either way, this will be the last time we meet, and it is better for the legion and my father that you start off strong than weak." Kharn prepared to leave once again. "After all, as the leader of a legion, your point of comparison will be the Primarchs. It would not do if the galaxy thought my brothers to be weak."
"Kharn, what do you mean by saying that this will be the last time we meet? What are you planning?" It was now for the first time that Lhorke realized how seriously he had misinterpreted Kharn's actions. Whatever misgivings he had, he had far underestimated Kharn's emotional control and intelligence.
Kharn stood at the door with his back to Lhorke for a long time before he spoke.
"Whatever is needed."
With that, Kharn left the room, and Lhorke sat alone with his silent watchers, his only companions.
Lhorke reached for his sword and tested his grip, noticing that it was perhaps just a tad stronger than it was before his surprise double meeting.
Regardless, it would be at least another month before he was ready to return to the War Hounds legion and more preparation was still needed.
Lhorke returned his attention to the box of data slates that Kharn had brought and studied everything contained within until his time on Terra was finally up.
When he had returned from Terra, he had been expecting his takeover to go smoothly. Kharn had given his tacit approval by helping him on Terra, so that would at least quell most of the outrage at the deposal of their former, very popular leader.
Of course, there would still be dissidents and protests, but once he brought word of the thirty thousand astartes coming to aid them, more if any other Primarchs agreed to help, there would be little any rebellious elements could do to stop him.
And with the explicit approval of Macer and Vorias, any coup attempts would be short lived at best.
Even still, there was a large chunk of War Hounds he expected to reject his ascension to Legion Master, and yet it seemed that the moment he arrived, all hell broke loose across Angron's domain.
He was greeted neither by the warm welcome of his brothers nor the hateful fury of the more despicable World Eaters, instead he was met with panicked officers racing to meet him and tell him of an extremely urgent matter.
Several days before he had arrived aboard the Conqueror, Kharn had announced in a private meeting with the remaining officers that he was handing over all power over the legion to Lhorke, who he explained had been recently healed by the Priamrch Magnus and restored to his original body.
That came as a surprise, but what next alarmed Lhorke.
Kharn then announced that he was leading a surprise assault on Lord Commander Setbaq's headquarters with a third of the legion's space marines and that he would not be returning to Imperial space after that.
Immediately, a handful of space marines drew their weapons on the Betrayer, demanding he rescind his orders and that he be placed under arrest and tried on counts of treason.
But to the surprise of all, Macer Varren stepped in and ordered them to stand down, and after several minutes of heated debate, the enraged officers finally did.
Macer then told Kharn that if he ever returned, he would kill all of them himself, and Kharn merely laughed as he walked away and departed with the legion's most despicable and disloyal space marines to their destination.
The situation had only just been explained to Lhorke when a comm transmission was sent to the War Hounds, demanding answers for this backstabbing and all but demanding that the legion surrender themselves to the nearest Imperial army force.
Lhorke responded quickly, denouncing Kharn and his followers as traitors to the Imperium of Man and sent out the legion in force to hunt down Kharn's space marines.
However, before he sent out his forces, Lhorke made sure to delay as long as possible, sending out requests for more information on the situation before acting as well as sending a message to the Primarch Mortarion to confirm his words and prevent the Imperial Army from turning hostile.
In total, Lhorke managed to buy Kharn's World Eaters another day before he had no choice but to mobilize in full force and arrived at the Imperial Army's main headquarters and found nothing but rubble, with Lord Commander Setbaq's body raised on a pike and a plaque attached to his skull labelling him as a murderer. Several thousand World Eater bodies were found, but a missing ship from the docks indicated what Lhorke already knew. The survivors had departed for distant worlds with Kharn a long time ago.
The Imperial Army general present then began to levy accusations at the War Hounds, claiming they had not done enough to save the Lord Commander, and that he would have them all executed for treason. Thankfully, Macer and Vorias were able to act quickly and calm down any hot heads amongst the space marines while Lhorke addressed the Imperial Army.
Thankfully, with the Death Guard space marines at his side expediting the meeting, Mortarion was able to arrive before the end of the week and label Kharn the Betrayer, with Lhorke now the one and only Legion Master of the War Hounds to the Imperium at large.
Once a Primarch's word was given, it was as good as law, and the Imperial army general finally backed off, though Lhorke noted that the rank-and-file soldiers who were watching their debate seemed less than enthused about the general not being removed from his rank.
Another general likely to be a problem moving forward, as Kharn's notes had indicated this one to be in Setbaq's pocket both financially and politically, and so he would have to be dealt with.
A few War Hounds offered to sever the man's head from his neck, but Lhorke denied them, for he wished to change their relationship with the Imperial Army to a more positive one moving forward.
The only regret Lhorke had over the whole affair was that he was not able to kill Setbaq himself.
There was much that Lhorke could say on Kharn.
He could say that Kharn was a selfless soul, one who valued his father above even his own life and reputation.
He could say that Kharn's final actions were heroic, that he was willing to jump into the fires of damnation to save his brothers from the angry masses and take all their wrath upon himself.
But ultimately, the greatest contribution to the Imperium that any could say about Kharn and his World Eaters was that they left.
When the sudden rush of action finally calmed down and the War Hounds settled into an uneasy silence, Lhorke took a moment for himself to read the flood of reports that had piled up on his desk within the Conqueror while he had been absent and was surprised at what he read.
30000 space marines from the Blood Angels as well as Mkani Kano.
5000 space marines from the Ultramarines.
4000 space marines from the Eternal Wardens as well as a few of their more promising individuals.
Thirty-nine thousand space marines. His most generous estimate had been ten thousand space marines, and that required nearly half the Primarchs to agree. And he had gotten nearly four times that number from only three Primarchs.
That the Ultramarines sent aid was not particularly surprising to him, though the sheer number they sent was. The Eternal Wardens, however, did surprise him, for he had thought their troubles in the Tartarus Crusade would render them unable to provide assistance on his project, that they had done so freely and without even meeting him was a shock.
Altogether, these forces would boost their numbers drastically, meaning rather than bring the Great Crusade to a near halt, he might actually be able to maintain their current pace while still affording some growth in the legion's numbers.
Even his wildest predictions had not foreseen this. Had he not been struck down before for his arrogance, he might truly believe there was a chance for the War Hounds to return to their former glory.
This was his last chance.
The cost of his redemption was far too high, but Lhorke refused to let his last chance to save his beloved legion go to waste.
For context, this omake takes place roughly during Year 46 and is basically a direct sequel to We Were Heroes.
Five-Fold Path (Must Read)
Five-Fold Path
Somewhere deep within the Black Library…
One year after the Masquarde's End…
Inconsequential. That was how Neferon Balfao had often viewed himself throughout his life. As the fourth son of a lesser bureaucrat within the Cognara Ministries, Neferon felt like an invisible member of his family. It didn't help that he hadn't been born with psychic powers like his older brother and sister had.
Despite this, Neferon found his niche within the Ministries. Possessing exceptional organizational skills, being adept at scheduling, and offering constructive feedback on large projects, he was often called an optimizer by his peers and the chief ministers. However, he preferred to be seen as diligent above all else. Yet, despite a few notable accomplishments, he never considered himself truly noteworthy. Life seemed to pass him by.
Things eventually changed, as they always do. A shift in his life began only a few years after Cognara integrated into the Realm of Ultramar. As Cognara joined on the pretense of gaining access to previously unavailable information. These discoveries prompted his people to delve into new fields of study, and once more, men like Neferon were instrumental in developing the procedures that facilitated these endeavors.
A time of great excitement began. Hordes of eager scholars, scientists, and bureaucrats were keen to start. However, one does not simply allow such chaotic free rein. That was certainly not the Cognarian way.
Everything had to be done by the book.
When Neferon realized this research was dangerous, unpredictable, and warnings limited in scope, he recognized the need to lay a solid foundation. So, while others in the Forum established their own departments and selected their brightest minds, Neferon ensured that these departments had a stable groundwork upon which to build.
It took him only a year to complete this process. His work must have caught the attention of someone at Ravenloft, who offered him a project and procedure leader position within their organization. Neferon accepted, partly due to a disagreement with a forum member over funding costs for Cognara. Despite their reputation for meticulousness and logic, the Cognarians were still human.
That had been five years ago.
Neferon had been crucial in establishing construction and training procedures for Ravenloft and other affiliated organizations. Along the way, he had forged friendships within the organization. Despite the grand scope of their mission, Neferon remained a man who operated in the shadows.
And now…
"Let's begin," Sub-Administrator Musa declared to Neferon and the three other attendees, his tone carrying the weight of the task ahead. "We have a substantial amount to review, so consider this the inaugural meeting of what will likely be a series for the next year or so."
Musa's imposing stature brought to mind the image of a space marine, his towering presence dominating the room. With his shaved head and powerful physique, he seemed better suited for the battlefield than an administrative role. Neferon couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Musa than met the eye, especially considering the rumors surrounding the Alcatraz Group.
As Musa initiated the discussion, Neferon couldn't shake the nagging question: why was he here?
Oh, Neferon knew why; he had already been briefed on the situation before arriving here. However, he couldn't shake the nagging question of why the Founders had chosen him for such a pivotal role in what everyone was now calling Project Lawbringer.
"Hold on now," Ms. Azgrave interjected, her tone sharp with authority. "Before we dive into any decisions, we need to address the budget for our part of the project. The Commission has some pressing inquiries."
Ms. Azgrave exuded an air of grace and confidence, carrying herself with the poise of someone accustomed to easily navigating guild halls and noble gatherings. Her demeanor was sophisticated, and her every movement was deliberate. Yet, despite her outward elegance, her expression had a palpable absence of joy. Neferon couldn't help but sense a hint of ruthlessness beneath her polished exterior, a quality befitting someone who ran criminal enterprises.
"As does the League," Captain Roddrick chimed in, puffing out smoke from his pipe with a casual air. "The amount of funds allocated for this endeavor is truly divine if you pardon the pun. One might even say "ungodly" over how much we have available."
Roddrick, a mercenary among the group, possessed a robust and weathered appearance, his face etched with lines of experience and his frame built for endurance. Despite his rugged countenance, there was a jovial twinkle in his eyes, seemingly at odds with his stern exterior. His simple and utilitarian attire spoke of a man accustomed to the rigors of military life. Neferon couldn't help but sense both capability and opportunism emanating from him—a seasoned warrior with a keen eye for profit.
The woman beside Neferon let out an exasperated sigh at the mention of financial matters. "Are these questions primarily focused on payment arrangements?" Commander Sinclair's tone hinted at irritation.
Sinclair exuded an air of controlled menace, her demeanor akin to that of a predator assessing its surroundings. Despite her relatively average stature, an undeniable aura of danger surrounded her. Neatly groomed and impeccably dressed in a crisp uniform, she presented a sharp contrast to the ruggedness of Roddrick and the imposing presence of Musa. A staunch loyalist to Blair and Exalt, Sinclair's unwavering commitment to her cause was palpable. Neferon found reassurance in her resolute determination to see the project through to its conclusion.
"More or less," the Captain conceded, glancing at Ms. Azgrave, who responded with a stern glare.
Sub-Administrator Musa intervened, clearing his throat to regain control of the discussion. "Let's save the questions for after we've completed introductions, shall we?"
The trio responded with varying degrees of compliance or dissent while Neferon remained silent. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this group was an odd and, regrettably, discomforting assembly to work with.
Representatives from each of the project's five alliance members were present: Musa for the Alcatraz Group, Roddrick for the Zanzibar League, Azgrave for the Shrike Commission, Sinclair for Exalt, and Neferon serving as the liaison for Ravenloft.
In essence, the five of them were tasked with orchestrating the execution and completion of Project Lawbringer to benefit their respective sponsors, patrons, and leadership. Their mission was to adhere to a stringent timeline, avoid exceeding the budget, and maintain utmost secrecy surrounding the project's existence.
Given the project's monumental scale and significance, Neferon and his colleagues had been briefed on its overarching objectives. Fortunately, their group was not burdened with the ultimate outcome. Instead, their role was to ensure that all necessary components were meticulously prepared and positioned for the project's implementation.
To say that Neferon felt overwhelmed would be an understatement. Project Lawbringer aimed not only to summon forth a god, relocate its "shell" across the galaxy, or construct a network of Bio-Etheric Nodes spanning multiple planets, but all of this had to be executed covertly.
As Neferon understood it, their collective leadership deemed the decision to involve the League and Commission necessary. Both groups possessed the capacity to allocate personnel and resources and operate discreetly while engaging in clandestine activities without attracting unwanted attention. If nothing else, both groups knew how to keep a secret. None of them wanted to be responsible for ratting out an employer.
"Alright, let's go over the basics so everyone is on the same page," Musa remarked, his tone authoritative yet inviting as he directed their attention to a holo-projection of Lord-General Blair's domain, highlighting a distant world called Adara. "First things first, we'll need to establish a means to move the Shell of Woedica from its current resting place and bring it to the planet Verdica."
The distance in light-years was considerable, Musa noted, his gaze flickering with a tinge of uncertainty. "Even with the warp, it would take at least a full month, and that's under normal circumstances. No one has attempted to move a Shell through the warp, and whether that's a viable option is still debated. It may have to be moved through the Webway."
"Now, that is what the Alcatraz Group will be handling," Musa continued, his demeanor shifting to a pragmatic resolve. "But the infrastructure needed to safely contain and project the Shell on Verdica will require meticulous planning and development, along with creating an all-encompassing security apparatus."
"Which Exalt is going to handle," Sinclair interjected, his voice punctuated by a note of assurance. "It will likely take the form of several dozen police fortresses akin to those the Arbites utilize."
"All of which will ensure that the Shell is protected long enough for the Ravenloft detachments to bring forth the god-entity in question to this reality," Musa added, his expression betraying a hint of anticipation. "Something that has never been done on this scale, especially with an entity that is effectively a new god."
Switching the display to depict several dozen worlds, Musa proceeded, his tone emphasizing urgency. "The scale and scope of Lawbringer will require constructing thousands of facilities, which will be staffed and organized so that the so-called Bio-Etheric energies of the local population can be transferred to the Shell. The mechanics of how this works are beyond me, but what matters most is that we can get these facilities operational and establish enough cover to deter investigation or sabotage."
"As such, our objectives are threefold," Musa outlined, his voice carrying the weight of their collective mission. "First, developing the strategy of moving the Shell from Adara to Verdica. Second, establishing a network of linked amplifier systems and their corresponding facilities. Third, procedures and parameters must be implemented to maintain operational security for Project Lawbringer."
Glancing at his colleagues, Musa invited questions. "Any questions on this so far?"
"None that won't be addressed as we delve deeper into the details," Neferon remarked, his tone pragmatic. "It appears straightforward on paper, but I anticipate complexities once we delve into the specifics."
"It always is," Musa acknowledged before transitioning to the timetable. "Moving on to our schedule. We have approximately five years to accomplish this, perhaps six, depending on our progress and any unforeseen developments. However, I suggest we operate under the assumption of a four-year timeframe."
This announcement elicited groans and murmurs of discontent. "Does anyone else believe that constructing all this within four years, even with our resources, is simply unattainable?" Ms. Azgrave interjected, voicing concerns about feasibility. "The sheer number of workers and materials required could fund the establishment of multiple new colonies."
"Have our superiors set specific milestones?" Captain Roddrick inquired. "How many facilities are expected to be operational by the end of the second year?"
"Ideally, half of them," Musa replied, acknowledging the ambitious expectations.
Neferon expressed skepticism. "That's an extraordinarily demanding target."
"But it's the expectation," Musa asserted firmly. "The timeline is non-negotiable, so we must adapt. Furthermore, this won't be an issue for most of you."
"Indeed, only mostly mine," Ms. Azgrave remarked drily. "However, we should have no difficulty securing labor. Sufficient funding tends to expedite solutions to such problems."
"Speaking of which," Musa redirected the discussion to budgetary matters and resource allocation, projecting charts detailing spending plans. "Financial constraints and manpower shortages shouldn't impede our progress. With hundreds of billions of individuals in these worlds, finding willing laborers shouldn't pose a challenge. Instead, we should focus on vetting mid-level leaders, specialists, and community figures."
"Community leaders?" Sinclair questioned, seeking clarification. "Are we planning to establish work camps?"
"Not precisely," Neferon interjected, providing additional context. "We'll be implementing worker communes, utilizing experimental cooperative modules known as Iron Communes. These are designed to foster loyalty and productivity, a concept derived from the innovative mind of Primarch Ferrus Manus."
The intricacies of this experiment were remarkable, especially considering its origin from a Primarch known for his martial prowess. If the Imperium could implement these Iron Communes wholesale, it could greatly improve the quality of life and production outputs.
"Besides, there are plenty of opportunities to turn a profit," Ms. Azgrave commented astutely. "All these facilities can't remain idle or be constructed without a clear purpose. Moreover, finding ways to generate additional materials from localized elements and resources would be more sustainable. Otherwise, we'd be reliant on constant imports."
Neferon concurred with a nod. "While it may present challenges, the potential rewards are certainly worth pursuing." He turned to Sinclair. "I can envision Lord General Blair being pleased with the prospect of potentially thousands of these communes."
"Pft," Captain Roddrick chuckled. "That's likely why she agreed to them in the first place."
"Let's proceed," Musa interjected firmly, redirecting the focus to operational security, a crucial aspect of the project. "Exalt will oversee internal affairs, while the League will handle external threats."
However, before Musa could continue, Sinclair raised another question. "What benefits does the League gain from participating in this project, aside from financial compensation?"
"The Eldar made a request," Roddrick explained, a sly smirk on his face. "In return, we receive a small favor from them. Additionally, your Lord General promised us permission to establish an embassy within her domain, along with recruitment centers. Considering the vast number of refugees, many of whom are ex-military, General WerBell likely saw this as a prime opportunity for recruitment."
"Miss Taturu was assured that the Commission would retain a portion of the profits from this venture, along with maintaining discreet control over burgeoning criminal elements," Ms. Azgrave commented before turning to Neferon. "And what about Ravenloft? Were there any concessions made to your organization?"
"I wouldn't exactly call it a concession, but we were granted permission to establish schools and training centers for the citizens," Neferon explained, downplaying the significance of the arrangement. "It serves as a conduit for recruiting new organization members, I suppose."
"Let's refocus," Musa interjected firmly, steering the conversation back to operational security. OpSec will involve vetting individuals and maintaining the cover story that these developments are part of a broader humanitarian aid initiative for Blair's domain. Exalt will control access to sensitive information, while documentation and records will be carefully curated to thwart outside scrutiny."
Neferon had heard whispers that Ravenloft intended to sow confusion by fabricating a fictitious religious uprising within the former Desolation sectors, strategically disseminating false leads implicating an external nation-state operating through Blair. Additionally, the amount of graft in her domain would make it seem like it was trying and failing to run its own forge world. And considering the amount of money and material costs going into this, which was like trying to build a Gloriana in under ten years, it would look pretty real.
"Risk management is paramount," Musa continued, displaying projections on the screen. "Our primary concern is preventing the dissemination of sensitive information, whether true or false. We cannot afford to incite panic and inefficiency or draw unwanted attention from external forces. The Commission and League will monitor for rumors, while Exalt will address any leaks. Eliminating problematic elements is authorized, but containing or controlling the spread of misinformation is equally critical."
Captain Roddrick chuckled. "It's almost comical, isn't it? Here we are, spreading our misinformation while simultaneously combatting it."
"Shouldn't our focus be on preventing resource misappropriation or ensuring the competence of our technicians and scientists?" Sinclair questioned. "Or at least focus on the success and efficacy of the project?"
"But we can't afford to raise suspicions," Ms. Azgrave retorted. "Keeping people in the dark is crucial. How else would we explain our actions? 'Hey, that project you were working on to supply iron ore? Turns out it's for building a soul amplifier to channel energy to a dormant goddess.' It's a tough sell, to say the least."
Musa appeared visibly irritated by these diversions. Neferon couldn't help himself, "If I may interject, our primary focus should be on halting the dissemination of misinformation to prevent the development of a religious narrative surrounding Woedica. If the populace believes that she is being influenced or manipulated by external forces, it could cast doubt on her divine purity and intentions."
Surprisingly, Neferon's response seemed to appease the others, and as Musa realized he could proceed, he continued, "Effective communication will be essential. Our group will convene four times annually, barring any emergencies. Progress updates will be disseminated to your respective teams as developments unfold. Fortunately, the Aeldari have expressed willingness to assist in delivering crucial documents or notifications."
"So we depart from here and embark on our individual tasks, essentially working in isolation from one another?" Sinclair expressed discontent with this arrangement, "May I suggest a collaborative trial run? We could focus our efforts on Verdica, a project encompassing all facets of our collective endeavor, allowing us to observe each other's operations." Neferon found this suggestion rather reasonable.
The others appeared to share the sentiment. "That sounds like a prudent approach," Roddrick concurred. "None of us want to encounter unnecessary obstacles, especially at this early stage of the project."
Musa seemed inclined to engage in the conversation. "Establishing a system rooted in collaborative practices and ongoing developments could yield better results in the long run, even if it means investing additional time upfront."
"Time isn't the obstacle," Neferon observed, his tone revealing some resignation. "It's the growing realization that this undertaking is becoming increasingly costly, unwieldy, and frankly, more absurd by the minute." Although his words conveyed a sense of dismay, he was simply stating the undeniable facts. "What we're essentially doing here is crafting a manual on how to summon a god. It's hardly an enviable task for anyone."
Captain Roddrick raised a finger in rebuttal. "Ah, but fortune favors the bold. I prefer to believe that our chances of success are quite favorable, even if the metrics seem somewhat... ambiguous." At least one individual in the group exuded confidence.
"In all fairness," Ms. Azgrave remarked as she poured herself a drink, "the Commission and League have less at stake if this endeavor fails."
"True, your groups have already been compensated," Sinclair commented dryly, eliciting a nod from Ms. Azgrave and a chuckle from Roddrick. Neferon shook his head. It was a critical juncture for humanity and was being supported by criminals and mercenaries, all in the pursuit of summoning a god of justice. He couldn't help but wonder if that alone was a corrupting influence.
"Is the objective for the first year to solely focus on developing this five-fold path for Project Lawbringer?" Musa inquired. "That might not sit well with the leadership."
"We won't be idly sitting by," Sinclair retorted tersely. "Just because we're getting acquainted with each other doesn't mean we're slacking off. I don't know about the rest of you, but a lot is riding on our shoulders." If nothing else, Exalt was as eager, if not more so, than Ravenloft to ensure the success of Project Lawbringer.
"Very well," Musa conceded. "Unless there are any objections?" No one spoke up. "Then let it be recorded that the Project Lawbringer development committee, comprising us, has agreed to an expedited trial period on the world of Verdica. We'll establish security, communication, and infrastructure procedures in real-time while the Alcatraz Group works on relocating the Shell from Adara."
And with that, the plan for the first year was set. "So, year one will primarily involve preparation and learning," Neferon remarked to the others. "Seems like a reasonable approach."
"Following that, we can proceed with our respective tasks," Sinclair added. "By then, we should have developed a solid understanding of each other's roles and responsibilities."
Captain Roddrick nodded in agreement. "I anticipate encountering a few crises along the way, but that's par for the course with a project of this magnitude. Let's hope we're equipped to handle whatever challenges come our way." He lightly rapped his knuckles against the sleek wraithbone table to emphasize his point.
"If trouble arises, it will likely be of a mundane nature," Ms. Azgrave asserted confidently. "Let's ensure we're prepared to address any issues as they arise. I don't need a committee to tell me when removing problematic individuals is necessary."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Musa concurred, turning to Neferon. "So, Mr. Balfao, as the one tasked with planning this entire operation, do you have any final words of advice for us?"
Neferon pondered his response, searching for words that could encapsulate the gravity of their task while offering a glimmer of hope. "Let's temper our expectations but aim for excellence," he finally said, his tone resolute. "Success in this endeavor won't be measured solely by conventional standards. What matters is that we accomplish something remarkable that leaves a lasting impact."
He paused, reflecting on the significance of his involvement in this grand undertaking. "We may be ordinary individuals thrust into extraordinary circumstances," Neferon mused, "but let's embrace the opportunity to make a difference. Let's strive to exceed even our own expectations."
Determined, he concluded, "We have a unique chance to shape history. Let's make the most of it."
He was an inconsequential man helping in something beyond the scope of his otherwise dreary life. Neferon idly wondered how many men and women like him had been dragged into such positions and how many more would be in the future. It was best not to think of such things.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, just some more building-up for the Woedica stuff.
Somewhere deep within the Black Library…
One year after the Masquarde's End…
Inconsequential. That was how Neferon Balfao had often viewed himself throughout his life. As the fourth son of a lesser bureaucrat within the Cognara Ministries, Neferon felt like an invisible member of his family. It didn't help that he hadn't been born with psychic powers like his older brother and sister had.
Despite this, Neferon found his niche within the Ministries. Possessing exceptional organizational skills, being adept at scheduling, and offering constructive feedback on large projects, he was often called an optimizer by his peers and the chief ministers. However, he preferred to be seen as diligent above all else. Yet, despite a few notable accomplishments, he never considered himself truly noteworthy. Life seemed to pass him by.
Things eventually changed, as they always do. A shift in his life began only a few years after Cognara integrated into the Realm of Ultramar. As Cognara joined on the pretense of gaining access to previously unavailable information. These discoveries prompted his people to delve into new fields of study, and once more, men like Neferon were instrumental in developing the procedures that facilitated these endeavors.
A time of great excitement began. Hordes of eager scholars, scientists, and bureaucrats were keen to start. However, one does not simply allow such chaotic free rein. That was certainly not the Cognarian way.
Everything had to be done by the book.
When Neferon realized this research was dangerous, unpredictable, and warnings limited in scope, he recognized the need to lay a solid foundation. So, while others in the Forum established their own departments and selected their brightest minds, Neferon ensured that these departments had a stable groundwork upon which to build.
It took him only a year to complete this process. His work must have caught the attention of someone at Ravenloft, who offered him a project and procedure leader position within their organization. Neferon accepted, partly due to a disagreement with a forum member over funding costs for Cognara. Despite their reputation for meticulousness and logic, the Cognarians were still human.
That had been five years ago.
Neferon had been crucial in establishing construction and training procedures for Ravenloft and other affiliated organizations. Along the way, he had forged friendships within the organization. Despite the grand scope of their mission, Neferon remained a man who operated in the shadows.
And now…
"Let's begin," Sub-Administrator Musa declared to Neferon and the three other attendees, his tone carrying the weight of the task ahead. "We have a substantial amount to review, so consider this the inaugural meeting of what will likely be a series for the next year or so."
Musa's imposing stature brought to mind the image of a space marine, his towering presence dominating the room. With his shaved head and powerful physique, he seemed better suited for the battlefield than an administrative role. Neferon couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Musa than met the eye, especially considering the rumors surrounding the Alcatraz Group.
As Musa initiated the discussion, Neferon couldn't shake the nagging question: why was he here?
Oh, Neferon knew why; he had already been briefed on the situation before arriving here. However, he couldn't shake the nagging question of why the Founders had chosen him for such a pivotal role in what everyone was now calling Project Lawbringer.
"Hold on now," Ms. Azgrave interjected, her tone sharp with authority. "Before we dive into any decisions, we need to address the budget for our part of the project. The Commission has some pressing inquiries."
Ms. Azgrave exuded an air of grace and confidence, carrying herself with the poise of someone accustomed to easily navigating guild halls and noble gatherings. Her demeanor was sophisticated, and her every movement was deliberate. Yet, despite her outward elegance, her expression had a palpable absence of joy. Neferon couldn't help but sense a hint of ruthlessness beneath her polished exterior, a quality befitting someone who ran criminal enterprises.
"As does the League," Captain Roddrick chimed in, puffing out smoke from his pipe with a casual air. "The amount of funds allocated for this endeavor is truly divine if you pardon the pun. One might even say "ungodly" over how much we have available."
Roddrick, a mercenary among the group, possessed a robust and weathered appearance, his face etched with lines of experience and his frame built for endurance. Despite his rugged countenance, there was a jovial twinkle in his eyes, seemingly at odds with his stern exterior. His simple and utilitarian attire spoke of a man accustomed to the rigors of military life. Neferon couldn't help but sense both capability and opportunism emanating from him—a seasoned warrior with a keen eye for profit.
The woman beside Neferon let out an exasperated sigh at the mention of financial matters. "Are these questions primarily focused on payment arrangements?" Commander Sinclair's tone hinted at irritation.
Sinclair exuded an air of controlled menace, her demeanor akin to that of a predator assessing its surroundings. Despite her relatively average stature, an undeniable aura of danger surrounded her. Neatly groomed and impeccably dressed in a crisp uniform, she presented a sharp contrast to the ruggedness of Roddrick and the imposing presence of Musa. A staunch loyalist to Blair and Exalt, Sinclair's unwavering commitment to her cause was palpable. Neferon found reassurance in her resolute determination to see the project through to its conclusion.
"More or less," the Captain conceded, glancing at Ms. Azgrave, who responded with a stern glare.
Sub-Administrator Musa intervened, clearing his throat to regain control of the discussion. "Let's save the questions for after we've completed introductions, shall we?"
The trio responded with varying degrees of compliance or dissent while Neferon remained silent. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this group was an odd and, regrettably, discomforting assembly to work with.
Representatives from each of the project's five alliance members were present: Musa for the Alcatraz Group, Roddrick for the Zanzibar League, Azgrave for the Shrike Commission, Sinclair for Exalt, and Neferon serving as the liaison for Ravenloft.
In essence, the five of them were tasked with orchestrating the execution and completion of Project Lawbringer to benefit their respective sponsors, patrons, and leadership. Their mission was to adhere to a stringent timeline, avoid exceeding the budget, and maintain utmost secrecy surrounding the project's existence.
Given the project's monumental scale and significance, Neferon and his colleagues had been briefed on its overarching objectives. Fortunately, their group was not burdened with the ultimate outcome. Instead, their role was to ensure that all necessary components were meticulously prepared and positioned for the project's implementation.
To say that Neferon felt overwhelmed would be an understatement. Project Lawbringer aimed not only to summon forth a god, relocate its "shell" across the galaxy, or construct a network of Bio-Etheric Nodes spanning multiple planets, but all of this had to be executed covertly.
As Neferon understood it, their collective leadership deemed the decision to involve the League and Commission necessary. Both groups possessed the capacity to allocate personnel and resources and operate discreetly while engaging in clandestine activities without attracting unwanted attention. If nothing else, both groups knew how to keep a secret. None of them wanted to be responsible for ratting out an employer.
"Alright, let's go over the basics so everyone is on the same page," Musa remarked, his tone authoritative yet inviting as he directed their attention to a holo-projection of Lord-General Blair's domain, highlighting a distant world called Adara. "First things first, we'll need to establish a means to move the Shell of Woedica from its current resting place and bring it to the planet Verdica."
The distance in light-years was considerable, Musa noted, his gaze flickering with a tinge of uncertainty. "Even with the warp, it would take at least a full month, and that's under normal circumstances. No one has attempted to move a Shell through the warp, and whether that's a viable option is still debated. It may have to be moved through the Webway."
"Now, that is what the Alcatraz Group will be handling," Musa continued, his demeanor shifting to a pragmatic resolve. "But the infrastructure needed to safely contain and project the Shell on Verdica will require meticulous planning and development, along with creating an all-encompassing security apparatus."
"Which Exalt is going to handle," Sinclair interjected, his voice punctuated by a note of assurance. "It will likely take the form of several dozen police fortresses akin to those the Arbites utilize."
"All of which will ensure that the Shell is protected long enough for the Ravenloft detachments to bring forth the god-entity in question to this reality," Musa added, his expression betraying a hint of anticipation. "Something that has never been done on this scale, especially with an entity that is effectively a new god."
Switching the display to depict several dozen worlds, Musa proceeded, his tone emphasizing urgency. "The scale and scope of Lawbringer will require constructing thousands of facilities, which will be staffed and organized so that the so-called Bio-Etheric energies of the local population can be transferred to the Shell. The mechanics of how this works are beyond me, but what matters most is that we can get these facilities operational and establish enough cover to deter investigation or sabotage."
"As such, our objectives are threefold," Musa outlined, his voice carrying the weight of their collective mission. "First, developing the strategy of moving the Shell from Adara to Verdica. Second, establishing a network of linked amplifier systems and their corresponding facilities. Third, procedures and parameters must be implemented to maintain operational security for Project Lawbringer."
Glancing at his colleagues, Musa invited questions. "Any questions on this so far?"
"None that won't be addressed as we delve deeper into the details," Neferon remarked, his tone pragmatic. "It appears straightforward on paper, but I anticipate complexities once we delve into the specifics."
"It always is," Musa acknowledged before transitioning to the timetable. "Moving on to our schedule. We have approximately five years to accomplish this, perhaps six, depending on our progress and any unforeseen developments. However, I suggest we operate under the assumption of a four-year timeframe."
This announcement elicited groans and murmurs of discontent. "Does anyone else believe that constructing all this within four years, even with our resources, is simply unattainable?" Ms. Azgrave interjected, voicing concerns about feasibility. "The sheer number of workers and materials required could fund the establishment of multiple new colonies."
"Have our superiors set specific milestones?" Captain Roddrick inquired. "How many facilities are expected to be operational by the end of the second year?"
"Ideally, half of them," Musa replied, acknowledging the ambitious expectations.
Neferon expressed skepticism. "That's an extraordinarily demanding target."
"But it's the expectation," Musa asserted firmly. "The timeline is non-negotiable, so we must adapt. Furthermore, this won't be an issue for most of you."
"Indeed, only mostly mine," Ms. Azgrave remarked drily. "However, we should have no difficulty securing labor. Sufficient funding tends to expedite solutions to such problems."
"Speaking of which," Musa redirected the discussion to budgetary matters and resource allocation, projecting charts detailing spending plans. "Financial constraints and manpower shortages shouldn't impede our progress. With hundreds of billions of individuals in these worlds, finding willing laborers shouldn't pose a challenge. Instead, we should focus on vetting mid-level leaders, specialists, and community figures."
"Community leaders?" Sinclair questioned, seeking clarification. "Are we planning to establish work camps?"
"Not precisely," Neferon interjected, providing additional context. "We'll be implementing worker communes, utilizing experimental cooperative modules known as Iron Communes. These are designed to foster loyalty and productivity, a concept derived from the innovative mind of Primarch Ferrus Manus."
The intricacies of this experiment were remarkable, especially considering its origin from a Primarch known for his martial prowess. If the Imperium could implement these Iron Communes wholesale, it could greatly improve the quality of life and production outputs.
"Besides, there are plenty of opportunities to turn a profit," Ms. Azgrave commented astutely. "All these facilities can't remain idle or be constructed without a clear purpose. Moreover, finding ways to generate additional materials from localized elements and resources would be more sustainable. Otherwise, we'd be reliant on constant imports."
Neferon concurred with a nod. "While it may present challenges, the potential rewards are certainly worth pursuing." He turned to Sinclair. "I can envision Lord General Blair being pleased with the prospect of potentially thousands of these communes."
"Pft," Captain Roddrick chuckled. "That's likely why she agreed to them in the first place."
"Let's proceed," Musa interjected firmly, redirecting the focus to operational security, a crucial aspect of the project. "Exalt will oversee internal affairs, while the League will handle external threats."
However, before Musa could continue, Sinclair raised another question. "What benefits does the League gain from participating in this project, aside from financial compensation?"
"The Eldar made a request," Roddrick explained, a sly smirk on his face. "In return, we receive a small favor from them. Additionally, your Lord General promised us permission to establish an embassy within her domain, along with recruitment centers. Considering the vast number of refugees, many of whom are ex-military, General WerBell likely saw this as a prime opportunity for recruitment."
"Miss Taturu was assured that the Commission would retain a portion of the profits from this venture, along with maintaining discreet control over burgeoning criminal elements," Ms. Azgrave commented before turning to Neferon. "And what about Ravenloft? Were there any concessions made to your organization?"
"I wouldn't exactly call it a concession, but we were granted permission to establish schools and training centers for the citizens," Neferon explained, downplaying the significance of the arrangement. "It serves as a conduit for recruiting new organization members, I suppose."
"Let's refocus," Musa interjected firmly, steering the conversation back to operational security. OpSec will involve vetting individuals and maintaining the cover story that these developments are part of a broader humanitarian aid initiative for Blair's domain. Exalt will control access to sensitive information, while documentation and records will be carefully curated to thwart outside scrutiny."
Neferon had heard whispers that Ravenloft intended to sow confusion by fabricating a fictitious religious uprising within the former Desolation sectors, strategically disseminating false leads implicating an external nation-state operating through Blair. Additionally, the amount of graft in her domain would make it seem like it was trying and failing to run its own forge world. And considering the amount of money and material costs going into this, which was like trying to build a Gloriana in under ten years, it would look pretty real.
"Risk management is paramount," Musa continued, displaying projections on the screen. "Our primary concern is preventing the dissemination of sensitive information, whether true or false. We cannot afford to incite panic and inefficiency or draw unwanted attention from external forces. The Commission and League will monitor for rumors, while Exalt will address any leaks. Eliminating problematic elements is authorized, but containing or controlling the spread of misinformation is equally critical."
Captain Roddrick chuckled. "It's almost comical, isn't it? Here we are, spreading our misinformation while simultaneously combatting it."
"Shouldn't our focus be on preventing resource misappropriation or ensuring the competence of our technicians and scientists?" Sinclair questioned. "Or at least focus on the success and efficacy of the project?"
"But we can't afford to raise suspicions," Ms. Azgrave retorted. "Keeping people in the dark is crucial. How else would we explain our actions? 'Hey, that project you were working on to supply iron ore? Turns out it's for building a soul amplifier to channel energy to a dormant goddess.' It's a tough sell, to say the least."
Musa appeared visibly irritated by these diversions. Neferon couldn't help himself, "If I may interject, our primary focus should be on halting the dissemination of misinformation to prevent the development of a religious narrative surrounding Woedica. If the populace believes that she is being influenced or manipulated by external forces, it could cast doubt on her divine purity and intentions."
Surprisingly, Neferon's response seemed to appease the others, and as Musa realized he could proceed, he continued, "Effective communication will be essential. Our group will convene four times annually, barring any emergencies. Progress updates will be disseminated to your respective teams as developments unfold. Fortunately, the Aeldari have expressed willingness to assist in delivering crucial documents or notifications."
"So we depart from here and embark on our individual tasks, essentially working in isolation from one another?" Sinclair expressed discontent with this arrangement, "May I suggest a collaborative trial run? We could focus our efforts on Verdica, a project encompassing all facets of our collective endeavor, allowing us to observe each other's operations." Neferon found this suggestion rather reasonable.
The others appeared to share the sentiment. "That sounds like a prudent approach," Roddrick concurred. "None of us want to encounter unnecessary obstacles, especially at this early stage of the project."
Musa seemed inclined to engage in the conversation. "Establishing a system rooted in collaborative practices and ongoing developments could yield better results in the long run, even if it means investing additional time upfront."
"Time isn't the obstacle," Neferon observed, his tone revealing some resignation. "It's the growing realization that this undertaking is becoming increasingly costly, unwieldy, and frankly, more absurd by the minute." Although his words conveyed a sense of dismay, he was simply stating the undeniable facts. "What we're essentially doing here is crafting a manual on how to summon a god. It's hardly an enviable task for anyone."
Captain Roddrick raised a finger in rebuttal. "Ah, but fortune favors the bold. I prefer to believe that our chances of success are quite favorable, even if the metrics seem somewhat... ambiguous." At least one individual in the group exuded confidence.
"In all fairness," Ms. Azgrave remarked as she poured herself a drink, "the Commission and League have less at stake if this endeavor fails."
"True, your groups have already been compensated," Sinclair commented dryly, eliciting a nod from Ms. Azgrave and a chuckle from Roddrick. Neferon shook his head. It was a critical juncture for humanity and was being supported by criminals and mercenaries, all in the pursuit of summoning a god of justice. He couldn't help but wonder if that alone was a corrupting influence.
"Is the objective for the first year to solely focus on developing this five-fold path for Project Lawbringer?" Musa inquired. "That might not sit well with the leadership."
"We won't be idly sitting by," Sinclair retorted tersely. "Just because we're getting acquainted with each other doesn't mean we're slacking off. I don't know about the rest of you, but a lot is riding on our shoulders." If nothing else, Exalt was as eager, if not more so, than Ravenloft to ensure the success of Project Lawbringer.
"Very well," Musa conceded. "Unless there are any objections?" No one spoke up. "Then let it be recorded that the Project Lawbringer development committee, comprising us, has agreed to an expedited trial period on the world of Verdica. We'll establish security, communication, and infrastructure procedures in real-time while the Alcatraz Group works on relocating the Shell from Adara."
And with that, the plan for the first year was set. "So, year one will primarily involve preparation and learning," Neferon remarked to the others. "Seems like a reasonable approach."
"Following that, we can proceed with our respective tasks," Sinclair added. "By then, we should have developed a solid understanding of each other's roles and responsibilities."
Captain Roddrick nodded in agreement. "I anticipate encountering a few crises along the way, but that's par for the course with a project of this magnitude. Let's hope we're equipped to handle whatever challenges come our way." He lightly rapped his knuckles against the sleek wraithbone table to emphasize his point.
"If trouble arises, it will likely be of a mundane nature," Ms. Azgrave asserted confidently. "Let's ensure we're prepared to address any issues as they arise. I don't need a committee to tell me when removing problematic individuals is necessary."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Musa concurred, turning to Neferon. "So, Mr. Balfao, as the one tasked with planning this entire operation, do you have any final words of advice for us?"
Neferon pondered his response, searching for words that could encapsulate the gravity of their task while offering a glimmer of hope. "Let's temper our expectations but aim for excellence," he finally said, his tone resolute. "Success in this endeavor won't be measured solely by conventional standards. What matters is that we accomplish something remarkable that leaves a lasting impact."
He paused, reflecting on the significance of his involvement in this grand undertaking. "We may be ordinary individuals thrust into extraordinary circumstances," Neferon mused, "but let's embrace the opportunity to make a difference. Let's strive to exceed even our own expectations."
Determined, he concluded, "We have a unique chance to shape history. Let's make the most of it."
He was an inconsequential man helping in something beyond the scope of his otherwise dreary life. Neferon idly wondered how many men and women like him had been dragged into such positions and how many more would be in the future. It was best not to think of such things.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, just some more building-up for the Woedica stuff.
POA (Person Other than Astartes)
POA (Person Other than Astartes)
No one ever thought being an Astartes could be dull. And they'd be partly right. The Ultramarines were always on the move, from one battlefield to the next. Rarely idle, even during downtime, they'd train, spar, or share hearty meals with their brothers-in-arms.
But amidst the clamor of combat and the camaraderie of the barracks, there lurked the mundane reality of paperwork. A duty shunned by captains engrossed in post-battle analyses, and sergeants focused on discipline and cohesion.
Enter an often overlooked cog in the legion's command structure: the Lieutenants affectionately dubbed the 'Hopefuls,' a moniker with more irony than hope. Among them stood Lex Sician, a marine whose mastery over paperwork rivaled his prowess on the battlefield, much to the chagrin of his peers.
Lex embodied the less glamorous side of the Great Crusade. The endless forms, reports, and requisitions that kept the wheels of war turning yet garnered little recognition or praise. A rather disappointing position for one of the Emperor's space marines.
Yet, Lex was every bit the warrior as his brethren. In his seven decades of service to the Imperium, he had felled countless rebels, mutants, and abominations. But what truly set him apart was his knack for enabling the triumphs of his comrades.
At the Battle of Saran Delta, it was Lex who engineered the diversion that allowed Brother Valenten to dispatch an Ork Warboss, crippling its Trukk. And who could forget the Mardosh Compliance, where Lex engaged in a deadly duel with the notorious Colonel Langstrom, paving the way for Captain Agian to vanquish the colonel's monstrous pet, the dreaded 707-XTE, which had claimed the lives of twenty of their brethren. It was a victory that restored honor to their company.
These were just glimpses of Lex's valor. He was always in the thick of it, whether leading from the frontlines, commanding Astartes and Imperial Army detachments, or negotiating with local dignitaries and Mechanicum enclaves. His presence forged new bonds of camaraderie among his brothers, and his guidance ensured their readiness for any challenge.
Yet, amidst these acts of heroism, Lex remained a shadowy figure in the background, quietly attending to the myriad tasks required to sustain an army or a Space Marine company. He was, if nothing else, reliable.
Reliable but unremarkable. Boring, even.
Unsurprisingly, Lex was neither celebrated nor well-known among his peers. He understood that his deeds, though vital, were often overshadowed by the grandeur of more visible feats. It was just human nature, really. No one wanted to hear about how the butcher prepared his meat in the back of his shop. War was no different.
Because people only wanted to know about the exciting parts, not trying to reflect on the less romanticized aspects of war, and if they did, most minds gravitated toward the horrors and tragedies inherent in such conflicts—and rightly so. One can at least comprehend its destructive nature if one cannot find pride in this gruesome trade.
Nevertheless, most soldiers didn't want to focus on either aspect, and those entrenched in military life most certainly didn't care to waste their time talking about the burden that often lay in the exhaustive logistics and administrative tasks that went into sustaining something like a Legion, let alone their own regiments or the Great Crusade itself.
Soldiers don't want to be reminded of what their lives have become—the unending toils that came with grueling training regimens, interminable waiting periods, bad food and lack of comfort, the logistical challenges of movement and supply, strict adherence to orders, and maintaining discipline.
No one wanted to be reminded that they were a cog in some machine. These mundane yet essential tasks consumed the lion's share of a soldier's time, interspersed with bouts of paperwork, equipment maintenance, and the monotonous cycle of training and waiting while striving to stave off the encroaching boredom and frustration.
Especially when all they were waiting for was that adrenaline-fueled excitement of actual combat, the pinnacle of fear and exhilaration glorified in the popular imagination. Not before it went back to the mindnumbing realities of military life, which often fade into obscurity and are overlooked by those who have never borne its burdens.
So yes, Lex understood that in the eyes of the average civilian and trooper, the allure of his duties and successes were quite meager compared to the hundreds of thousands of heroes in the Imperium.
But did he harbor any resentment? Not a shred. As an Astartes, a scion of Guilliman, Lex knew that the backbone of victory lay not only in valorous deeds on the battlefield but also in meticulous planning, efficient logistics, and flawless organization behind the scenes. He believed fervently that a well-trained and well-provisioned army could withstand far greater trials than mere numbers would suggest.
This understanding guided Lex's approach. He grasped the importance of ensuring that the Imperium's military machine operated smoothly, with no gaps in supply lines or lapses in strategic foresight. Individuals like him were the linchpins that wise rulers and astute generals relied upon to keep their war engines running smoothly—or, if need be, to repair them.
When word reached him of the World Eaters' plight in the aftermath of the Desolation, which had left Angron's domain in ruins, it was evident to all discerning observers that any volunteers would face a rather unenviable task of trying to help the legion rebuild.
Many heeded the call to aid the beleaguered World Eaters. The Blood Angels dispatched a formidable force of 30,000 warriors, the largest contingent by far, while the Ultramarines, Eternal Wardens, and other chapters contributed a combined task force of 15,000 marines. Among them was Lex, who wasted no time in volunteering.
It was a commendable service, yet Lex harbored a deep desire for something more. He yearned to leave the shadows and earn recognition for his deeds. Despite his proficiency in the stealth tactics taught by the Raven Guard, Lex longed to showcase his abilities on a grander stage.
The desire that had driven him to volunteer eight years ago now seemed like a double-edged sword. As he witnessed the dire situation of the World Eaters, a grim realization settled over him: the reality was far worse than anyone had anticipated.
The rift between the World Eaters and the Imperial Army had deepened, irreparably fracturing their relationship. Entire regiments staunchly refused to cooperate with the World Eaters, even after transforming into the War Hounds. But to the high-ranking officers and commanders who turned a blind eye to their legion, this was merely a minor inconvenience.
Lex quickly discovered that the only reason these officials were willing to meet with him was in the hope that he could facilitate the transfer of their troops to positions within the Realm of Ultramar. Some even resorted to blatant bribery, driven by desperation or misguided optimism. However, those who attempted such schemes often met swift consequences.
By his third year, Lex and a handful of fellow officers had taken it upon themselves to train Imperial Army regiments stranded within Angron's domain. They also extended their efforts to the remaining loyalists, who clung to a hope born of policies to provide economic opportunities to liberated populations. Dreamers and left-behinds. Not exactly a great fighting force.
When it came to equipping and supplying the regiments, Lex found himself at the forefront of the effort, a task as challenging as it was crucial. The Desolation posed a significant obstacle in terms of military hardware, with the Administratum reluctant to allocate resources deemed unnecessary.
In a stroke of pragmatism, Lex turned to the Blood Angels. Given their circumstances, they boasted a surplus of munitions and weaponry, making them a valuable resource for the War Hounds. Negotiating a deal within his legion, Lex arranged for specific equipment, such as jump packs and krak grenades, to be provided by the Blood Angels.
What made this arrangement truly remarkable was its simplicity: Astartes aiding their brethren without the complications of politics or bureaucracy. These moments served as a poignant reminder of their shared lineage, forged by the bonds of brotherhood beneath the banners of their respective Primarchs. Despite past controversies or disagreements, they remained steadfast brothers-in-arms, united in their cause to help the War Hounds get back on their feet.
Through it all, they would persevere.
Naturally, an unexpected setback occurred.
During Lex's fifth year with the War Hounds, the Imperium was rocked by news of Lord Commander Hyde Setbaq's demise at the hands of Kharn, the former First Captain of the World Eaters. The scandal cast a dark shadow over the shaky relations between the War Hounds and the Imperial Army, even after Lhorke declared Kharn and his followers traitors and criminals.
Like all things, no one could ignore this. A space marine actively killing an otherwise loyal officer of the Imperium. The notion was, simply put, quite problematic. Astartes were supposed to be above politically motivated killings.
Admittedly, there were murmurs of relief at Setbaq's demise among both Astartes and Army ranks. Rumors swirled about his monstrous deeds, driven by an insatiable and vengeful desire to "finish" what the Death Guard had begun with the Desolation. These worlds had seen enough destruction, and just like with the War Hounds, it was time to rebuild and think of the future.
Did Lex approve of what Kharn did? About as much as any other Marine did. "Kharn did us all a favor" was a sentiment shared even among the dutiful Blood Angels and Lex's brethren. It served as a stark reminder to men like Lex that sometimes, to achieve a greater good, one had to get their hands dirty.
That said, murder wasn't exactly something that Lex wanted to use in his repertoire. He had much more nuanced skills when getting what he needed or wanted. A case in point is what happened with the world of Hildorian.
Barely a year after the Setbaq scandal, the War Hounds discovered the Forge World Hildorian, a great and much-needed find. This highly productive planet boasted five surrounding mining enclaves known as the Fire Belt, alongside an unorthodox sect of the Mechanicum—a blend of Tech-Priests and non-religious experts, albeit with occasional friction.
While Hildorian's databanks lacked exotic technologies, they had something even more remarkable for a Forge World: a constitutional right to welfare, providing clean water, food, housing, and education. Moreover, its rigorous educational system spanned from early childhood to young adulthood, and despite low wages, every citizen was guaranteed a modest one-bedroom apartment.
Consequently, Hildorian's workforce proved remarkably content, leading to productivity levels that exceeded quotas. Before encountering the Imperium, the planet traded its goods with passing traders and neighboring polities, earning glowing reviews for their quality—an encouraging sign for the War Hounds.
A looming problem cast its shadow over the horizon. The Fire Belt, Hildorian's lifeline for centuries, was on the verge of depletion. Promethium and resources dwindled, with mere decades left before the wells and mines ran dry, promising unrest and turmoil in their wake.
Lhorke faced mounting pressure to find solutions, yet new obstacles emerged. The Mechanicum and Imperial Army bluntly informed the War Hounds that resources couldn't be spared. The Mechanicum clashed with Hildorian's unconventional practices, while the Imperial Army prioritized their scant garrisons in the Desolation over investing time and funds.
Lex and his comrades grappled with the dilemma. Twenty years seemed brief in the grand scheme of strategic planning, especially considering the impending demands for Astartes weaponry, equipment, and vehicles. They sought solutions, contacting chartist guilds, rogue traders, and contacts within the Mechanicum and Imperial Army. Unfortunately, viable options were scarce or exorbitantly priced.
Amidst the deadlock, an unconventional idea surfaced: the Zanzibar League. Lex proposed the notion, which was met with skepticism from his peers. The League's involvement in dubious enterprises didn't endear them to Astartes, who viewed mercenaries with disdain.
Lhorke was initially inclined to dismiss the idea altogether, but Lex managed to sway the legion master. He argued that a direct negotiation with General WerBell on Zanzibar could yield promising results.
Lex suspected that WerBell might be open to renegotiation if presented with a compelling case that the League stood to gain more from a unique opportunity. Moreover, his investigation revealed that the League was already significantly wealthy, suggesting that monetary incentives might not be the primary driving force.
"He's after something beyond just wealth or resources," Lex asserted. "We need to offer something of value, but I believe we can leverage this to our advantage. Let me talk with him, and I'll deliver tangible results."
Considering the lack of options, Lhorke ultimately agreed. Lex was off to work something out with the Lord of War.
One month later…
It seemed that Jack WerBell was quite fond of throwing lavish parties or feasts for any occasion, and the arrival of a Space Marine certainly warranted such a celebration. Lieutenant Sician was subjected to these festivities held in his honor, though declining would have been impolite, especially towards a man he was trying to negotiate with.
Fortunately, the festivities lasted no more than a day before WerBell personally invited Lex to his private estate for a meeting. "I hope you don't mind all that pomp and circumstance," WerBell remarked as he lit a lho cigar. "It's all for the troops and the people, you see. Besides, I'm working towards hosting a personal visit from every member of the Astartes legions."
"Understood," Lex replied, though he couldn't help but suppress a hint of amusement. Humans often had a penchant for unnecessary grandeur, but at the moment, Lex intended to leverage it to his advantage. "I appreciate you finding the time to discuss the situation with Hildorian."
WerBell made a sound that Lex interpreted as acknowledgment as he puffed on his cigar before gesturing for Lex to take a seat. "Yes, yes. Impressive industry those people have set up. I was planning on acquiring pressure and heat-producing machinery from them."
"Pressure and heat-producing machinery?" Lex inquired as to why a mercenary lord would be interested in such equipment, but WerBell declined to elaborate further.
"So," WerBell began, fixing Lex with an inquisitive gaze, "Your forces are seeking a new means to supply Hildorian, and you've come to me?"
"Yes," Lex affirmed. "You were highly recommended." While that was partly true, WerBell was only suggested after several other solutions fell through. "I'm hopeful we can devise an arrangement beneficial to the War Hounds and the people of Hildorian."
WerBell nodded. "Indeed. I'm sure we can come to an agreement. Do you have a proposal?"
As if a Son of Guilliman wouldn't have all the necessary paperwork ready. Lex slid a folder across the table to WerBell, who caught it deftly and began to peruse its contents. Lex was surprised to see the Lord of War himself reading through the documents rather than delegating the task to his subordinates.
Twenty minutes later, WerBell set the proposal down and nodded. "I don't foresee any issues preventing the Zanzibar League from assisting here. If we can finalize the details by tonight, I assure you we'll have the first fuel shipments arriving within a few years. Mineral resources and other goods can be arranged within the same timeframe."
Lex nodded, confirming his suspicion that the League possessed the necessary infrastructure and ships to transport commodities like promethium and ore. Now came the real problem.
"Now, the real question will be payment," WerBell began again, leaning back in his chair. "I don't need money, weapons, or anything like that. I'd like the ability to commission items from Hildorian at a 50% discount in perpetuity. I believe that's fair and reasonable." It might have appeared as such in any other circumstance, but Lex knew better.
Deciding not to waste time, Lex cut to the chase. "Are you open to a different form of payment?"
"It depends on what you're offering," WerBell replied, intrigued. "But it would have to be something special to undercut a Forge World commission."
"It is," Lex responded without hesitation. "I represent the War Hounds, the reborn legion that was once the World Eaters. You must have heard of their ferocity and fearlessness in battle, as well as their strength and martial prowess. Considering that, I propose that the War Hounds train some of your forces as payment, General WerBell."
WerBell's interest was piqued. "That's certainly something. I know enough war enthusiasts and hotshots who think they're tough as nails. It's always a challenge to break them down and improve them; there's too much ego and bloodlust and not enough willingness to listen to orders."
"I wouldn't know," Lex responded diplomatically. "The War Hounds are a formidable and aggressive force, but they aren't mindless killers. They could provide invaluable training and discipline."
"It does sound enticing," WerBell admitted, taking a thoughtful puff of his cigar. "It's difficult to find Astartes willing to train my troops. They often look down upon us, which is disappointing, given our current allies."
"Think of it this way," Lex began, seizing the opportunity. "If you agree to this, you'll have the chance to have some of your forces trained by our most...unique instructor."
WerBell's curiosity was piqued. "Oh? Do tell."
Lex continued, "A psychic fighter by the name of Fao Werah. He's an interesting character, purportedly over 5,000 years old, with extensive experience in various arenas and battlefields. He claims to have ventured to the Eldar city of Commorragh, though he left due to disagreements over merchandising his likeness."
WerBell burst into laughter at the mention of Commorragh. "That sounds like something those blasted Eldar would do. An adrenaline junkie leaving because of merchandising issues. What a galaxy we live in. I respect the hustle."
Lex nodded, "They are indeed dangerous, as well as bored. So, if you're interested in having some of your up-and-coming forces challenged by him..."
But WerBell waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, you've made your point. So, Astartes training for fuel and ore. Training under Fao Werah will cost something else."
Lex remained firm. "Indeed. Astartes training is for the fuel and ore. Training under Fao Werah will require a different arrangement."
Rather than getting offended, WerBell chuckled. "Very well. How about personal trainers for your rank-and-file regiments? I imagine you aren't exactly equipped with Solar Auxilia over in your neck of the woods."
"I will admit," Lex began, choosing his words carefully, "We don't have many supporters at the moment. That will change, however."
WerBell chuckled, extinguishing his cigar. "Maybe. But we can add one more item to this list if you're willing to hear me out."
"I have no reason to suspect that you want to alter the deal now," Lex remarked, his interest piqued. "So, speak your piece."
The Lord of War smirked briefly at Lex. "I can't get a foothold on Macragge for my embassy and recruitment centers. Help me do that, and I'll personally come and make a public show of cooperation with this Lhorke fellow."
Lex's expression shifted to one of confusion. "I'm just a Lieutenant. I don't have much influence with the Primarch or those on Macragge."
"Ah, but you will once I publicly thank Lieutenant Sician for all his efforts in bringing about a joint Imperium-League effort in the former Desolation sectors," WerBell explained, but Lex narrowed his eyes skeptically.
"You want to use me as a propaganda tool."
WerBell's excitement was palpable as he slammed his fist on the table. "Exactly."
"Then I must decline the offer." Lex's response was firm, his principles unwavering. "My patronage and character aren't for sale."
"Listen, Lex, can I call you Lex?"
"No."
"Lex," WerBell pressed on, disregarding the denial. "What are you doing here, right now? It's going to cause waves like you can't imagine."
It's not that Lex was trying to be humble here, but he didn't quite grasp WerBell's point. "What I'm doing now is important but not groundbreaking."
"Your War Hound buddies? They're politically toxic right now," WerBell remarked bluntly, "And here you are, about to change that perception. You don't think that's going to stir up trouble? Especially if this agreement proves fruitful?"
"Are you suggesting that there might be pushback from elements within the Imperium against the War Hounds?" Lex shook his head incredulously, "No one wants to isolate an entire legion of Space Marines from Imperial support."
Yet WerBell's laughter indicated he knew something Lex didn't. "You say that, but I can promise you, based on what I've heard and seen, the War Hounds are what we call a wild card in war. And I can promise you, if one side doesn't have a chance to control that wild card, they're better off taking them out of the picture."
For a moment, Lex bristled at the insinuation that someone would want to eliminate the War Hounds, especially on orders from the Imperium. But then again, events on Prospero had proven that there were, in fact, elements willing to order the Imperial Army to attack an Astartes homeworld.
There were plenty of people who didn't like the War Hounds. Was it really so far-fetched to imagine someone within the Imperium wanting them gone?
"Say I agree to this deal," Lex began, carefully considering his options, "Here are my terms: don't mention me. Give credit to Lhorke and his legion. They are the ones who agree to this, and I am speaking and acting in their stead. That's it. Do that, and I'll see about getting approval for your embassy and recruiting centers." Lex knew he might have to call in a favor from Lhorke. A master of the Legion could persuade the First Master or even the Primarch to consider the idea.
WerBell shook his head, a hint of disappointment in his expression. "You're missing out on a golden opportunity to make a name for yourself, my friend... but if that's what you want, I'll abide by your terms." He looked expectantly at Lex, "Anyway, let's get this treaty all written up and signed, and you can be on the next ship out of here."
Lex didn't want to appear eager or ungrateful, but he was happy to leave this world and return to work. There was still much to do. Especially now that this was going to be carried out. Lhorke and the others needed to be informed of the situation.
Upon returning to the War Hounds and their allies, Lex wasn't greeted as a hero, nor did he seek such accolades. Instead, he received nods of acknowledgment and quiet words of appreciation for his efforts. For Lex, this understated recognition was more than enough; he had little appetite for celebrations.
However, Lhorke made it clear that he greatly respected and appreciated Lex's endeavors. That acknowledgment meant more to Lex than any grand gesture. In turn, Lex voiced his concerns to the Legion master regarding WerBell's warnings.
To Lex's dismay, Lhorke didn't brush aside his concerns. "We are without many mortal allies, and it seems an equal number hold disdain for us, for one reason or another. There are still many challenges ahead. But you've done a great service for my brothers and me, Lieutenant. I will write to your Primarch regarding WerBell's request. Let us hope for his benevolence."
And with that, the matter was concluded. Lex thanked the Legion master for his attention and returned to his duties. There would be ample time to oversee the various aspects of the deal with the Zanzibar League later. For now, it was back to the relentless grind of duty.
Such was the work of Lex Sician: another marine toiling in the background, ensuring the wheels of progress continued to turn.
---
@Daemon Hunter Done.
No one ever thought being an Astartes could be dull. And they'd be partly right. The Ultramarines were always on the move, from one battlefield to the next. Rarely idle, even during downtime, they'd train, spar, or share hearty meals with their brothers-in-arms.
But amidst the clamor of combat and the camaraderie of the barracks, there lurked the mundane reality of paperwork. A duty shunned by captains engrossed in post-battle analyses, and sergeants focused on discipline and cohesion.
Enter an often overlooked cog in the legion's command structure: the Lieutenants affectionately dubbed the 'Hopefuls,' a moniker with more irony than hope. Among them stood Lex Sician, a marine whose mastery over paperwork rivaled his prowess on the battlefield, much to the chagrin of his peers.
Lex embodied the less glamorous side of the Great Crusade. The endless forms, reports, and requisitions that kept the wheels of war turning yet garnered little recognition or praise. A rather disappointing position for one of the Emperor's space marines.
Yet, Lex was every bit the warrior as his brethren. In his seven decades of service to the Imperium, he had felled countless rebels, mutants, and abominations. But what truly set him apart was his knack for enabling the triumphs of his comrades.
At the Battle of Saran Delta, it was Lex who engineered the diversion that allowed Brother Valenten to dispatch an Ork Warboss, crippling its Trukk. And who could forget the Mardosh Compliance, where Lex engaged in a deadly duel with the notorious Colonel Langstrom, paving the way for Captain Agian to vanquish the colonel's monstrous pet, the dreaded 707-XTE, which had claimed the lives of twenty of their brethren. It was a victory that restored honor to their company.
These were just glimpses of Lex's valor. He was always in the thick of it, whether leading from the frontlines, commanding Astartes and Imperial Army detachments, or negotiating with local dignitaries and Mechanicum enclaves. His presence forged new bonds of camaraderie among his brothers, and his guidance ensured their readiness for any challenge.
Yet, amidst these acts of heroism, Lex remained a shadowy figure in the background, quietly attending to the myriad tasks required to sustain an army or a Space Marine company. He was, if nothing else, reliable.
Reliable but unremarkable. Boring, even.
Unsurprisingly, Lex was neither celebrated nor well-known among his peers. He understood that his deeds, though vital, were often overshadowed by the grandeur of more visible feats. It was just human nature, really. No one wanted to hear about how the butcher prepared his meat in the back of his shop. War was no different.
Because people only wanted to know about the exciting parts, not trying to reflect on the less romanticized aspects of war, and if they did, most minds gravitated toward the horrors and tragedies inherent in such conflicts—and rightly so. One can at least comprehend its destructive nature if one cannot find pride in this gruesome trade.
Nevertheless, most soldiers didn't want to focus on either aspect, and those entrenched in military life most certainly didn't care to waste their time talking about the burden that often lay in the exhaustive logistics and administrative tasks that went into sustaining something like a Legion, let alone their own regiments or the Great Crusade itself.
Soldiers don't want to be reminded of what their lives have become—the unending toils that came with grueling training regimens, interminable waiting periods, bad food and lack of comfort, the logistical challenges of movement and supply, strict adherence to orders, and maintaining discipline.
No one wanted to be reminded that they were a cog in some machine. These mundane yet essential tasks consumed the lion's share of a soldier's time, interspersed with bouts of paperwork, equipment maintenance, and the monotonous cycle of training and waiting while striving to stave off the encroaching boredom and frustration.
Especially when all they were waiting for was that adrenaline-fueled excitement of actual combat, the pinnacle of fear and exhilaration glorified in the popular imagination. Not before it went back to the mindnumbing realities of military life, which often fade into obscurity and are overlooked by those who have never borne its burdens.
So yes, Lex understood that in the eyes of the average civilian and trooper, the allure of his duties and successes were quite meager compared to the hundreds of thousands of heroes in the Imperium.
But did he harbor any resentment? Not a shred. As an Astartes, a scion of Guilliman, Lex knew that the backbone of victory lay not only in valorous deeds on the battlefield but also in meticulous planning, efficient logistics, and flawless organization behind the scenes. He believed fervently that a well-trained and well-provisioned army could withstand far greater trials than mere numbers would suggest.
This understanding guided Lex's approach. He grasped the importance of ensuring that the Imperium's military machine operated smoothly, with no gaps in supply lines or lapses in strategic foresight. Individuals like him were the linchpins that wise rulers and astute generals relied upon to keep their war engines running smoothly—or, if need be, to repair them.
When word reached him of the World Eaters' plight in the aftermath of the Desolation, which had left Angron's domain in ruins, it was evident to all discerning observers that any volunteers would face a rather unenviable task of trying to help the legion rebuild.
Many heeded the call to aid the beleaguered World Eaters. The Blood Angels dispatched a formidable force of 30,000 warriors, the largest contingent by far, while the Ultramarines, Eternal Wardens, and other chapters contributed a combined task force of 15,000 marines. Among them was Lex, who wasted no time in volunteering.
It was a commendable service, yet Lex harbored a deep desire for something more. He yearned to leave the shadows and earn recognition for his deeds. Despite his proficiency in the stealth tactics taught by the Raven Guard, Lex longed to showcase his abilities on a grander stage.
The desire that had driven him to volunteer eight years ago now seemed like a double-edged sword. As he witnessed the dire situation of the World Eaters, a grim realization settled over him: the reality was far worse than anyone had anticipated.
The rift between the World Eaters and the Imperial Army had deepened, irreparably fracturing their relationship. Entire regiments staunchly refused to cooperate with the World Eaters, even after transforming into the War Hounds. But to the high-ranking officers and commanders who turned a blind eye to their legion, this was merely a minor inconvenience.
Lex quickly discovered that the only reason these officials were willing to meet with him was in the hope that he could facilitate the transfer of their troops to positions within the Realm of Ultramar. Some even resorted to blatant bribery, driven by desperation or misguided optimism. However, those who attempted such schemes often met swift consequences.
By his third year, Lex and a handful of fellow officers had taken it upon themselves to train Imperial Army regiments stranded within Angron's domain. They also extended their efforts to the remaining loyalists, who clung to a hope born of policies to provide economic opportunities to liberated populations. Dreamers and left-behinds. Not exactly a great fighting force.
When it came to equipping and supplying the regiments, Lex found himself at the forefront of the effort, a task as challenging as it was crucial. The Desolation posed a significant obstacle in terms of military hardware, with the Administratum reluctant to allocate resources deemed unnecessary.
In a stroke of pragmatism, Lex turned to the Blood Angels. Given their circumstances, they boasted a surplus of munitions and weaponry, making them a valuable resource for the War Hounds. Negotiating a deal within his legion, Lex arranged for specific equipment, such as jump packs and krak grenades, to be provided by the Blood Angels.
What made this arrangement truly remarkable was its simplicity: Astartes aiding their brethren without the complications of politics or bureaucracy. These moments served as a poignant reminder of their shared lineage, forged by the bonds of brotherhood beneath the banners of their respective Primarchs. Despite past controversies or disagreements, they remained steadfast brothers-in-arms, united in their cause to help the War Hounds get back on their feet.
Through it all, they would persevere.
Naturally, an unexpected setback occurred.
During Lex's fifth year with the War Hounds, the Imperium was rocked by news of Lord Commander Hyde Setbaq's demise at the hands of Kharn, the former First Captain of the World Eaters. The scandal cast a dark shadow over the shaky relations between the War Hounds and the Imperial Army, even after Lhorke declared Kharn and his followers traitors and criminals.
Like all things, no one could ignore this. A space marine actively killing an otherwise loyal officer of the Imperium. The notion was, simply put, quite problematic. Astartes were supposed to be above politically motivated killings.
Admittedly, there were murmurs of relief at Setbaq's demise among both Astartes and Army ranks. Rumors swirled about his monstrous deeds, driven by an insatiable and vengeful desire to "finish" what the Death Guard had begun with the Desolation. These worlds had seen enough destruction, and just like with the War Hounds, it was time to rebuild and think of the future.
Did Lex approve of what Kharn did? About as much as any other Marine did. "Kharn did us all a favor" was a sentiment shared even among the dutiful Blood Angels and Lex's brethren. It served as a stark reminder to men like Lex that sometimes, to achieve a greater good, one had to get their hands dirty.
That said, murder wasn't exactly something that Lex wanted to use in his repertoire. He had much more nuanced skills when getting what he needed or wanted. A case in point is what happened with the world of Hildorian.
Barely a year after the Setbaq scandal, the War Hounds discovered the Forge World Hildorian, a great and much-needed find. This highly productive planet boasted five surrounding mining enclaves known as the Fire Belt, alongside an unorthodox sect of the Mechanicum—a blend of Tech-Priests and non-religious experts, albeit with occasional friction.
While Hildorian's databanks lacked exotic technologies, they had something even more remarkable for a Forge World: a constitutional right to welfare, providing clean water, food, housing, and education. Moreover, its rigorous educational system spanned from early childhood to young adulthood, and despite low wages, every citizen was guaranteed a modest one-bedroom apartment.
Consequently, Hildorian's workforce proved remarkably content, leading to productivity levels that exceeded quotas. Before encountering the Imperium, the planet traded its goods with passing traders and neighboring polities, earning glowing reviews for their quality—an encouraging sign for the War Hounds.
A looming problem cast its shadow over the horizon. The Fire Belt, Hildorian's lifeline for centuries, was on the verge of depletion. Promethium and resources dwindled, with mere decades left before the wells and mines ran dry, promising unrest and turmoil in their wake.
Lhorke faced mounting pressure to find solutions, yet new obstacles emerged. The Mechanicum and Imperial Army bluntly informed the War Hounds that resources couldn't be spared. The Mechanicum clashed with Hildorian's unconventional practices, while the Imperial Army prioritized their scant garrisons in the Desolation over investing time and funds.
Lex and his comrades grappled with the dilemma. Twenty years seemed brief in the grand scheme of strategic planning, especially considering the impending demands for Astartes weaponry, equipment, and vehicles. They sought solutions, contacting chartist guilds, rogue traders, and contacts within the Mechanicum and Imperial Army. Unfortunately, viable options were scarce or exorbitantly priced.
Amidst the deadlock, an unconventional idea surfaced: the Zanzibar League. Lex proposed the notion, which was met with skepticism from his peers. The League's involvement in dubious enterprises didn't endear them to Astartes, who viewed mercenaries with disdain.
Lhorke was initially inclined to dismiss the idea altogether, but Lex managed to sway the legion master. He argued that a direct negotiation with General WerBell on Zanzibar could yield promising results.
Lex suspected that WerBell might be open to renegotiation if presented with a compelling case that the League stood to gain more from a unique opportunity. Moreover, his investigation revealed that the League was already significantly wealthy, suggesting that monetary incentives might not be the primary driving force.
"He's after something beyond just wealth or resources," Lex asserted. "We need to offer something of value, but I believe we can leverage this to our advantage. Let me talk with him, and I'll deliver tangible results."
Considering the lack of options, Lhorke ultimately agreed. Lex was off to work something out with the Lord of War.
One month later…
It seemed that Jack WerBell was quite fond of throwing lavish parties or feasts for any occasion, and the arrival of a Space Marine certainly warranted such a celebration. Lieutenant Sician was subjected to these festivities held in his honor, though declining would have been impolite, especially towards a man he was trying to negotiate with.
Fortunately, the festivities lasted no more than a day before WerBell personally invited Lex to his private estate for a meeting. "I hope you don't mind all that pomp and circumstance," WerBell remarked as he lit a lho cigar. "It's all for the troops and the people, you see. Besides, I'm working towards hosting a personal visit from every member of the Astartes legions."
"Understood," Lex replied, though he couldn't help but suppress a hint of amusement. Humans often had a penchant for unnecessary grandeur, but at the moment, Lex intended to leverage it to his advantage. "I appreciate you finding the time to discuss the situation with Hildorian."
WerBell made a sound that Lex interpreted as acknowledgment as he puffed on his cigar before gesturing for Lex to take a seat. "Yes, yes. Impressive industry those people have set up. I was planning on acquiring pressure and heat-producing machinery from them."
"Pressure and heat-producing machinery?" Lex inquired as to why a mercenary lord would be interested in such equipment, but WerBell declined to elaborate further.
"So," WerBell began, fixing Lex with an inquisitive gaze, "Your forces are seeking a new means to supply Hildorian, and you've come to me?"
"Yes," Lex affirmed. "You were highly recommended." While that was partly true, WerBell was only suggested after several other solutions fell through. "I'm hopeful we can devise an arrangement beneficial to the War Hounds and the people of Hildorian."
WerBell nodded. "Indeed. I'm sure we can come to an agreement. Do you have a proposal?"
As if a Son of Guilliman wouldn't have all the necessary paperwork ready. Lex slid a folder across the table to WerBell, who caught it deftly and began to peruse its contents. Lex was surprised to see the Lord of War himself reading through the documents rather than delegating the task to his subordinates.
Twenty minutes later, WerBell set the proposal down and nodded. "I don't foresee any issues preventing the Zanzibar League from assisting here. If we can finalize the details by tonight, I assure you we'll have the first fuel shipments arriving within a few years. Mineral resources and other goods can be arranged within the same timeframe."
Lex nodded, confirming his suspicion that the League possessed the necessary infrastructure and ships to transport commodities like promethium and ore. Now came the real problem.
"Now, the real question will be payment," WerBell began again, leaning back in his chair. "I don't need money, weapons, or anything like that. I'd like the ability to commission items from Hildorian at a 50% discount in perpetuity. I believe that's fair and reasonable." It might have appeared as such in any other circumstance, but Lex knew better.
Deciding not to waste time, Lex cut to the chase. "Are you open to a different form of payment?"
"It depends on what you're offering," WerBell replied, intrigued. "But it would have to be something special to undercut a Forge World commission."
"It is," Lex responded without hesitation. "I represent the War Hounds, the reborn legion that was once the World Eaters. You must have heard of their ferocity and fearlessness in battle, as well as their strength and martial prowess. Considering that, I propose that the War Hounds train some of your forces as payment, General WerBell."
WerBell's interest was piqued. "That's certainly something. I know enough war enthusiasts and hotshots who think they're tough as nails. It's always a challenge to break them down and improve them; there's too much ego and bloodlust and not enough willingness to listen to orders."
"I wouldn't know," Lex responded diplomatically. "The War Hounds are a formidable and aggressive force, but they aren't mindless killers. They could provide invaluable training and discipline."
"It does sound enticing," WerBell admitted, taking a thoughtful puff of his cigar. "It's difficult to find Astartes willing to train my troops. They often look down upon us, which is disappointing, given our current allies."
"Think of it this way," Lex began, seizing the opportunity. "If you agree to this, you'll have the chance to have some of your forces trained by our most...unique instructor."
WerBell's curiosity was piqued. "Oh? Do tell."
Lex continued, "A psychic fighter by the name of Fao Werah. He's an interesting character, purportedly over 5,000 years old, with extensive experience in various arenas and battlefields. He claims to have ventured to the Eldar city of Commorragh, though he left due to disagreements over merchandising his likeness."
WerBell burst into laughter at the mention of Commorragh. "That sounds like something those blasted Eldar would do. An adrenaline junkie leaving because of merchandising issues. What a galaxy we live in. I respect the hustle."
Lex nodded, "They are indeed dangerous, as well as bored. So, if you're interested in having some of your up-and-coming forces challenged by him..."
But WerBell waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, you've made your point. So, Astartes training for fuel and ore. Training under Fao Werah will cost something else."
Lex remained firm. "Indeed. Astartes training is for the fuel and ore. Training under Fao Werah will require a different arrangement."
Rather than getting offended, WerBell chuckled. "Very well. How about personal trainers for your rank-and-file regiments? I imagine you aren't exactly equipped with Solar Auxilia over in your neck of the woods."
"I will admit," Lex began, choosing his words carefully, "We don't have many supporters at the moment. That will change, however."
WerBell chuckled, extinguishing his cigar. "Maybe. But we can add one more item to this list if you're willing to hear me out."
"I have no reason to suspect that you want to alter the deal now," Lex remarked, his interest piqued. "So, speak your piece."
The Lord of War smirked briefly at Lex. "I can't get a foothold on Macragge for my embassy and recruitment centers. Help me do that, and I'll personally come and make a public show of cooperation with this Lhorke fellow."
Lex's expression shifted to one of confusion. "I'm just a Lieutenant. I don't have much influence with the Primarch or those on Macragge."
"Ah, but you will once I publicly thank Lieutenant Sician for all his efforts in bringing about a joint Imperium-League effort in the former Desolation sectors," WerBell explained, but Lex narrowed his eyes skeptically.
"You want to use me as a propaganda tool."
WerBell's excitement was palpable as he slammed his fist on the table. "Exactly."
"Then I must decline the offer." Lex's response was firm, his principles unwavering. "My patronage and character aren't for sale."
"Listen, Lex, can I call you Lex?"
"No."
"Lex," WerBell pressed on, disregarding the denial. "What are you doing here, right now? It's going to cause waves like you can't imagine."
It's not that Lex was trying to be humble here, but he didn't quite grasp WerBell's point. "What I'm doing now is important but not groundbreaking."
"Your War Hound buddies? They're politically toxic right now," WerBell remarked bluntly, "And here you are, about to change that perception. You don't think that's going to stir up trouble? Especially if this agreement proves fruitful?"
"Are you suggesting that there might be pushback from elements within the Imperium against the War Hounds?" Lex shook his head incredulously, "No one wants to isolate an entire legion of Space Marines from Imperial support."
Yet WerBell's laughter indicated he knew something Lex didn't. "You say that, but I can promise you, based on what I've heard and seen, the War Hounds are what we call a wild card in war. And I can promise you, if one side doesn't have a chance to control that wild card, they're better off taking them out of the picture."
For a moment, Lex bristled at the insinuation that someone would want to eliminate the War Hounds, especially on orders from the Imperium. But then again, events on Prospero had proven that there were, in fact, elements willing to order the Imperial Army to attack an Astartes homeworld.
There were plenty of people who didn't like the War Hounds. Was it really so far-fetched to imagine someone within the Imperium wanting them gone?
"Say I agree to this deal," Lex began, carefully considering his options, "Here are my terms: don't mention me. Give credit to Lhorke and his legion. They are the ones who agree to this, and I am speaking and acting in their stead. That's it. Do that, and I'll see about getting approval for your embassy and recruiting centers." Lex knew he might have to call in a favor from Lhorke. A master of the Legion could persuade the First Master or even the Primarch to consider the idea.
WerBell shook his head, a hint of disappointment in his expression. "You're missing out on a golden opportunity to make a name for yourself, my friend... but if that's what you want, I'll abide by your terms." He looked expectantly at Lex, "Anyway, let's get this treaty all written up and signed, and you can be on the next ship out of here."
Lex didn't want to appear eager or ungrateful, but he was happy to leave this world and return to work. There was still much to do. Especially now that this was going to be carried out. Lhorke and the others needed to be informed of the situation.
Upon returning to the War Hounds and their allies, Lex wasn't greeted as a hero, nor did he seek such accolades. Instead, he received nods of acknowledgment and quiet words of appreciation for his efforts. For Lex, this understated recognition was more than enough; he had little appetite for celebrations.
However, Lhorke made it clear that he greatly respected and appreciated Lex's endeavors. That acknowledgment meant more to Lex than any grand gesture. In turn, Lex voiced his concerns to the Legion master regarding WerBell's warnings.
To Lex's dismay, Lhorke didn't brush aside his concerns. "We are without many mortal allies, and it seems an equal number hold disdain for us, for one reason or another. There are still many challenges ahead. But you've done a great service for my brothers and me, Lieutenant. I will write to your Primarch regarding WerBell's request. Let us hope for his benevolence."
And with that, the matter was concluded. Lex thanked the Legion master for his attention and returned to his duties. There would be ample time to oversee the various aspects of the deal with the Zanzibar League later. For now, it was back to the relentless grind of duty.
Such was the work of Lex Sician: another marine toiling in the background, ensuring the wheels of progress continued to turn.
---
@Daemon Hunter Done.
The Report on Gelidanima
- Location
- USA
The first omake in another while from me about a world that we are most likely going to be sending Auro to this coming turn.
Zarnia tapped her finger as she stared at her scout commander. "I acknowledge that your teams were unsuited for this mission, but they have fallen below my standards." The room was empty beyond the two of them, with Alara standing at attention on the other side of Zarnia's desk. "Shipmistress, a seventy percent success rate is several standard deviations above the norm and" Zarnia's glare cut Alara off as she shook her head, "Teams 10, 8 and 4 are acceptable losses due to the circumstances, however," Her glare turned icy and the temperature of the room seemed to fall several degrees, "all surviving teams barring team 9 suffered major wounds that will require complex surgery to repair."
Alara's face twisted into a glare at her superior, "Shipmistress, with all due respect you ask the impossible.." "No I do not, I merely ask that your troops do not almost die to mere environmental hazards and beasts. I would accept injury, I would even accept major injury in their pursuit of their duties. What I do not accept is them returning and requiring extensive cybernetic rebuilding simply to survive. The only reason I have not relieved you of your position is because in the past you have ensured that your scouts met my standards." Her finger had fallen silent as Zarnia lifted one of the data slates and gestured with it to Alara.
"Team one, found a possible landing sight with good chokepoints and shelter from the constant blizzards. However, in the process they lost most of their limbs due to frostbite and the anomalous properties of the world. Have I not refactored our protocols for such events? By doctrine the teams should have pulled back when we realized that the planet had a negative effect on their vitality. You were the one that gave the order to disregard that directive. Why?" Alara flinched at the pure icy venom in Zarnia's voice in the last word, there was none of the warmth that the shipmistress was known for instead only the harshly pragmatic commander was present.
"I made the choice to ensure that the Wardens would have enough information." There was more to the choice, but that lay at the core of her past actions and Alara hated herself with now for her teams were broken due to her orders. Zarnia's finger tapped once again on the synth wood of her desk her glare abating slightly as she leaned back in her chair, "An understandable reason, but Scout Master Alara, we have worked together for decades and you are no fonder of the Legions than I am. What is your real reason?" Alara sighed as the misdirection failed but it was not unexpected, "I was intrigued by the similarities present and wished to learn more." She fell into the unadorned chair made of basic synth wood just as all other items in the room were.
Zarnia leaned back in her synth wood chair as a finger rose to her lip, "I find it difficult to image that your homeworld of Valhalla is similar to this world beyond the surface. In light of personal interests resulting in damage to Imperial Army personal, Alara Isteren you are placed on probation for a period of no less than five years." The glare remained even as Alara relaxed trying to find a comfortable position within the chair.
Zarnia gestured and the holographic device that she had bartered from several Iron Warriors during the Maelstrom crusade flickered into life revealing the world. Massive blizzards covering hundreds of kilometers of surface, hurricane force winds throwing ice and snow at speeds sufficient to tear apart metal with the right angle. It was by all measures a miserable world, but people lived on it, in the middle of the northern hemisphere a large forest of ice covered trees could be seen piercing the snow. At the very peak of the world and around the equator a mountain chain that wrapped around the entire world taller than most mountains ever could be on normal worlds made entirely of ice and snow. Between the mountains wastelands of ice, snow and stone could be seen but on the holographic display it was clear that the mountains were the anomaly and the norm was the endless snowy wastelands.
Alara glared morosely at the image as data scrolled onto the screen. Average planetary temperature, minimum, peak and other such data points manifested in the light of the device. Zarnia's voice broke the silence once more frozen solid, "I checked your scout's supplies they were not issued the correct heaters, I then checked our supplies and found that due to various logistical inadequacies that we did not have access to the needed models. If I had discovered you had not outfitted them I would be pushing for your execution. However, due to you providing excess heating measures I have reduced your punishment to probation.
"Now, the summary of the report." Zarnia's clipped voice echoed through the room as the silent hologram kept spinning beside her. Alara sighed as she shook her head gathering her thoughts.
"Per your terminology, it is a semi benign warp-touched world, primarily keywords are Death, Necromancy, Undead, Soul. With at least one human empire based within the largest of the geothermal forests, primarily subterranean and reliant on a psyker ruler. Non peaceful, notable threats are: Undead, Cults, and natural lifeforms." Zarnia nodded at the summary as it did fit with what the more detailed reports had stated, with a flick of the finger she gestured towards the door and Alara nodded before leaving the room quickly.
As the door sealed behind her, Zarnia pulled the ten data slates towards her and began to flip through them again, she had already done it several times but here was always more to refresh her memory on and to ensure that the protocols could be improved.
Pushing aside the original reports in favor of her own summarized reports, she began to cross check them once more as sending faulty information to the Legions was the last thing anyone wanted to do if they had a modicum of sanity. If Karcer didn't order your execution then the astartes would the moment you dumped them into a clusterfuck and Zarnia had no intention of dying so stupidly.
Thankfully as much as it could be said the world was fairly, and she truly hated that this was the case, normal. It was by most measures merely a slightly than usual colder glacier deathworld, with stronger than average blizzards. But that was only the tip of the iceberg, because no warp touched world would be so mundane as to leave such things solely to mundane hazards. No, the worst hazards were related to the fact that the world was inherently tied to Death.
Team one was the first to land and they were able to determine a good landing spot near to the Icesong Forest as it was termed by the locals. However, only a few minutes after they landed the ground had shaken as what could only be ghosts erupted from the ground with a wail that saw the ice shatter and part. Thankfully the team was able to escape back to the shuttle and determine that the landing zone would be stable enough, but the fact that the world had in place of earthquakes some strange form of earthquake mixed with necromancy. The team had termed the event as a Gravewail and noted that it could be somewhat predicted by the vibration and a nearly inaudible wailing rising in volume and pitch.
However, the other hazards were if anything worse. Various plagues that somehow infected souls and storms that tore souls out of the living. The last had been captured on video by team 10 which was a truly horrifying thing to behold. Their flesh withered into leather, eyes decayed before becoming orbs of scorching hateful fire, spectral energy wrapped around their limbs as armor. Their voices screaming in pain before turning empty and raspy, dead and hallow of something so very critical. As one they left their supplies and began to walk with a jerky inhuman gait into the snowy wastes before the cameras were covered in fresh snow. It never became easier to watch the video, but it had to be done, and Zarnia would not force others to witness this horror. Alara and her were the only ones that needed to suffer the nightmares of this truth.
Thankfully the list of hazards was limited to only the blizzards, the ambient temperature, the various soul storms and plagues, along with the Gravewails. But where the list of hazards was limited the threats were more varied and more concerning. From the reports there were roughly five factions, though the actual unity of the five were in question Zarnia mused as she moved onto this part of the report.
The most concerning common enemy was the Risen as they were termed by the teams, undead skeletons, zombies, specters and other such foes. The problematic aspect was that those that died would likely return to unlife if not burned to ash quickly after their death, which will ensure that any invasion of the world will be constantly beset by backline enemies. However, it is not something out of protocol due to the Maelstrom Ritual. To combine with this is the constant vitality drain that renders people more vulnerable to disease and just tire more quickly than they should.
Another threat of equal importance were the living creatures of the world, which were massive by most standards seemingly using the same principles as deep sea life used to maintain their life force upon this world. Large and strong, with many displaying warp based powers relating to death, ice and soul manipulation from what team 6 could discover before they were consumed by a giant tunneling worm type monster. The other notable threats were creatures that were similar to dragons, giant mammoths, wolves and bears, along with at least a few giant insects that burrowed within the ice.
However, to Zarnai's experienced eyes the greatest threats lay not in the monsters of the world living or dead, but instead in the less common enemies. Within the endless mountains of ice Revenants prowled, the same things as what had become of Team 10. According to the information gained from the Undying Empire, the Revenats were hostile to all the living and hungered endlessly for blood and souls. Yet, what moved them above the standard was that they had all the boons of the living and also all the gains of the Risen. Zarnia scowled at the tactical problems of fighting a force that could rapidly adapt, and change as any sapient being xenos or man, but was also immune to the greatest dangers of the world. The cold mattered not to the dead, supply lines mattered only insofar as to ensure that they had gear. To say nothing of the fact that Revenants seemingly universally had limited command over the power of Death and Soul with the exceptional showing much greater control. Finally came the worry of what Team 10 could have shared with them regarding the imperium. It was not unlikely that any landing would be contested by starving Revenants something that she would have to inform the wardens of.
Where the Revenants were perhaps the most unified of the threats to the imperial army, there were thousands if not tens of thousands of Death Cults that lived in caves, scattered lands and other such places that varied from potential allies to servants of the Revenants. Yet, universally they would prove to challenge the conquest of the world. Along with the general death cults were the remains of the Jailer Tenares' legions both Living and Revenant within the wastes with soul forged relics and other such atrocities. Though, their numbers were pruned down thanks to the actions of the final notable force on the world.
Zarnia shivered involuntary as she remembered that meeting, Team 3 had managed to open communication with the only potential ally on the planet, the Undying Empire. The ruler was a man that had given his name as Thasar Thilmene Undying King of the Undying Empire. That hadn't been what disturbed her but when she had met him in an in person meeting upon her ship the first thing that came to mind was his size. Towering over almost everyone in her crew and herself at seven feet, with a build almost twice as wide as some of the deathworlders that were with her, he was a veritable mountain of muscle and well formed muscle at that. She had met far too many nobles that had sculpted their bodies for appearance without any thought to actual function, but Thasar was one of the lucky few that could combine both pure functional muscle without being unpleasant to behold.
The next thing she had noticed was the frost creeping along the metal from his footsteps and the snow forming around him. Even the few guards he had brought with him were seemingly shedding snow and ice within her ship. Their mere presence causing the temperature to fall and the vitality of the crew to drain. It was nothing compared to the planet's drain, but it was something to note. Thasar and his bodyguards had entered wearing furs and chainmail backed with thick leather, the metal of which had faintly glowing runes tracing along the surface of them with a faint blueish white light.
It was almost amusing watching as her men cowered before them even as they only had basic knives on their belts and no real ranged weapons beyond a couple small flintlock pistols that also glowed softly. The meeting that came after was the more interesting event, as Thasar confirmed that he was the ruler of the Undying Empire and revealed an overview of the world and its major regions. Zarnia shivered as she remembered the moment when he causally mentioned that he was the last scion of a nearly unbroken lineage of powerful psykers, and was peer to his father before him. As of yet she had yet to confirm his psychic ranking but it was clear that he was no mere zeta as she had watched legions of skeletons march at his command from orbit.
The meeting ended soon after but as he left he had handed over a chest with a nod of his head before returning to his home. Within the chest were a hundred pounds of fur, that were clearly picked for both beauty and functionality, with mesmerizing patterns in the fur that reflected light in almost prismatic fashion. The other part of the gift was a small knife carved from bone and engraved with more of those strange runes that burned silently with a clear blueish white radiance that never flickered. The right size to be used both in defense and also in general work in the kitchen and elsewhere, but with a notable curve to the blade turning it into almost a half scythe, the only reason that the knife was notable was that it was given to her not by name but by position. Where the furs had been a general gift, the knife had been stated to have been carved by a master's hand for the leader of the newcomers.
He had also provided a wealth of information on the regions of the world in addition to what she had been able to discover on her own accord. But his information was different enough to make it difficult to add to a concise summary for the Wardens. Forcing her to provide a summary of each of the major regions with his additional information as an addendum instead of being woven into the summary as she preferred.
Of note were fourteen regions, of which she had only been able to fully investigate 3 and had to rely heavily on Thasar's information for the other eleven which irritated her, but there was no feasible way for her to risk the lives needed to investigate such regions without support from the Wardens.
However, of the fourteen there were only five that were truly notable for various reasons to be overly concerned about with the rest being more supplemental to the general picture than large strokes to it.
The most obviously important region was the Icesong Forest, the center for where the Undying Empire existed and where Thasar had his citadel. From his own words nearly ten million people lived under his rule, supported by billions of skeletons controlled by him. He had noted that generally an Undying King would only be able to rouse a bare handful of millions of skeletons to service, but he and his father had been outliers if in different directions. He was the first that had proven to have the power and skill to rouse all of the honored dead resting within the great catacombs to service, while his father had been the best at empowering the ones he could command.
The region was not the smallest nor was it the largest, but somewhat of a middling scale on the planet where the temperatures reached almost to fifty degrees below 0. A truly miserable place to live by any standard measure but by the standards of the world in question it was the warmest place by a large margin a fact that Zarnia despised as she knew that it would become a colony world of the maelstrom, it could not. It had actual human infrastructure in place, it had been proven to be life bearing, making it one of the best colonies within this whole forsaken region of space.
Thasar has waxed a fair bit poetic on the harsh beauty of the forest, the music that could be heard as the trees and ice chimed in harsh winds and how the snowfall through the leaves would lead to mosaics of lights upon the fresh snow. He had even brought a handful of fresh berries from the gardens which had been properly quarantined until testing could prove them safe to consume. The horror stories of people eating deathworlder food even if exaggerated was nothing to test.
But beyond that, it was by far the best possible staging area though the armies being brought to bear would quickly dwarf any and all available means for the empire to handle them. Regardless of such issues, it would serve well as an astartes base camp and perhaps the staging ground for the core of the imperial army. Though, Zarnia made sure to note that there would be need for more heating elements and to ensure that glacier world uniforms were provided. She doubted that it world help, but maybe just maybe Karcer or Primarch Kesar could shake a few more such uniforms free of the black market.
Though at least the geothermal springs within the region would assist the imperium in expanding and building up the infrastructure of the region once brought into compliance.
The next region of notable interest was the Dreadfire Crater as it was named by Thasar, the site of some ancient meteoric impact or super weapon, but the result was the same. A massive hole some 6 kilometers deep revealing a massive amount of metals and a cavern system that ran under most of the known world according to Thasar. It was also the only source of what he had named erdra, which was the only material known to properly block the impact of soul storms and also prevent the Rising of the fallen. If that was true then it was a region that the Imperium had to conquer and quickly. However, that would be complicated by the fact that it burned with spectral flames that according to Thasar would slay any that bore a soul that came near them.
The next two were a paired region where one was contained within the other, the Umbral Valley was close to the Icesong Forest and Thasar had for several decades been waging a silent war against its denizens, mostly Risen and some Living, to claim it for his empire. He had told her that he intended to claim it for his people, but Zarnia doubted that, he was more likely after the riches held within its caverns. Umbral valley itself she could see the value of if only faintly, but the caverns below the ground would likely be the real prize for any noble. The scouting reports were clear in that the region was lousy with high quality gemstones and precious metals such as gold and platinum, for Thasar to seemingly be more exciting for farmland failed to pass the common sense test. Feudal world nobles and kings were all the same at the end in her experience, but she would make sure to note that region for conquest if only because mining there would be profitable and Thasar would likely accept the cost of such once the money started rolling in.
Though the Valley itself would be good to hold just for possible research. She wasn't one to generally consider whether places would be good for research, but in this case it was clearly an interesting place that was also stable. The Valley for some unknown reason never saw day, it was only ever twilight to midnight with midnight being much more common, but the presence of stars and other celestial bodies seemed to have a higher level of light emission within its borders than elsewhere. Thasar had told her that it was also the only place on the world where the ground was't always covered in snow, oh it was still almost always, but there were points when there was clear ground even though it was colder than Icesong Forest. Regardless, it would also be a good staging ground due to being cleared thanks to Thasar's actions.
Zarnia sighed as she turned towards the last of the truly notable regions, that was listed merely as Soulfury Peaks and the Deathforge, both obviously the result of someone desperately trying to come up with the most overly ominous names possible. The mountains were tall and extremely cold, reaching below two hundred thirty below zero and the base of the mountains at over one hundred below zero, but beyond the fact that a soul storm raged endlessly around the peaks she saw no reason to name them as such, and the Deathforge was clearly just someone being overly arrogant. They probably built a workshop that was somewhat impressive and had a bit of a reputation and had an apprentice to carry on their legacy and over the generations it turned into this report from Thasar of a mountain scale psychic machine that consumed soul and death energy to enchant objects. Maybe to a Feudal world king it was impressive, but Zarnia had seen the factories of Purgatorio itself and doubted that anything on this world could come close to that in scale or glory. The only notable reason worth considering the region for was that it was where the Revenants lived primarily among the soul storm covered peaks, but otherwise it was just feudal worlders hyping up their world as they so often did.
The last zone that she had a real report on was the Desert of Bones, another somewhat anomalous region where a glacier had turned the area's surface into sand and gravel. But that wasn't the weirdest part, the skeletons and even the specters of the region somehow held grit within their forms. The team that had explored the region had determined that it was a prime landing spot, but that the local Risen were far more dangerous to deal with than anywhere else, able to absorb and accept extreme amounts of punishment thanks to the ice and sand that filled their bodies. It was due to that surprise that resulted in their wounds before they managed to retreat. However, it was acceptable with heavier weapons the local problems could be solved, and it was not a particularly important region making it a good staging ground compared to most other regions.
The other notable areas were of less quantified reports sadly, relying mostly on Thasar's statements for them rather than her trusted teams, but it was the best she had to go on. It would mean that she would have to inform the Wardens that there was always a chance for the information to be incorrect and likely to be so. Thasar was a powerful psychic, and skilled ruler, but she would not trust his understanding of the situation against the Imperial army's scouts. A feudal king would have blindspots and other limitations that could not be superseded, it was a sad truth that she had learned over the decades of service in the exploration fleets.
The newest zone was also the most interesting if it was true, but overall it was likely to just be a lie or boast of some sort, even if she could not determine the exact reasoning for it. According to Thasar in the land around where he killed his father, the dead remained at rest and have for decades by now. Zarnia sighed as she had to write that into the report even though she added her own thoughts to it indicating that she doubted the truthfulness of the statements and that it was likely just a feudal noble boasting of their strength.
Where the last region had been questionable due to its nature, this next territory was not so much in doubt considering the confirmed existence of the desert of bones along with orbital confirmation of the existence of an active volcano in the general area of it. If Thasar's information could be trusted which Zarnia had to note was a concerning possibility in this case, the area was home to what could be best termed as obsidian golems, where specters had taken possession of and animated obsidian into bodies along with the more normal Risen having their bones coated in the rock resulting in strangely dangerous Risen which according to Thasar could cut through even steel. Of course they could cut through feudal steel, but the odds of them cutting through even basic steel of a less primitive world was questionable, but it had to be listed.
For a glacier world there were no open air oceans that was obvious, but in a departure from the norm there was only one known large body of water under the ice rather than most such worlds being entirely water under the ice covering. This under ice ocean covered a good amount of territory the fullest extent not known to her or Thasar, but it was extensive with there being several stone mountains that erupted through the ice where now Revenants live. From orbit it was possible to make out ruins of housing and other buildings suitable for human habitation and Thasar has in a perhaps foolish action revealed that one of his very distant ancestors had cursed the people of the islands before they had become Revenants though he had refused to admit that they were made Revenants by his ancestors which as quite obviously the case, but she could accept abiding by that little lie, though she did make sure to underline that fact in her report to the wardens that Thasar's family had a history of cursing humans with their powers but that Thasar himself had not shown any such action as of yet.
Adjacent to the islands of Revenants was what Thasar had told her was the Soulstorm Abyss, another overly boastful name designed to evoke awe from credulous people. Regardless, according to Thasar it was a place where souls went after their deaths to be eroded into a liquid that fuels the Deathforge and the world as a whole. It was also apparently the source of the soul rending storms that at times ravaged the world. The only reason it was even worth humoring was that it was apparently a source of extremely powerful gemstones that were considered precious by every being on the world.
The final real region that was not just a catch all term was the Festering Hive, which was just weird if it truly existed. Even Thasar seemed almost confused on if it was a real thing or not, though he did say that it was real, but that he had no idea why or how it existed. Regardless, according to him it was a glacier that was less a solid block of ice and more of a warren insects that had been carved out over the ages. With everything from maggots to mosquitoes and other stranger analogs, but otherwise it was of only minor importance to the greater picture.
Everything else fell into the umbrella term of the spectral wastes where effectively every being of all stripes existed in some form or another, mostly ice and snow covered stone. There was everything from good landing zones to mountainous terrain covered within the umbrella term and even Thasar didn't have much to say on the matter beyond that most of the world would fall into the classification.
Several hours after she had begun, Zarnia put aside the data slate content that she had written the best report she could manage for the Wardens at the current time, she would have preferred to provide more information, but the situation prevented that sadly.
Alara's face twisted into a glare at her superior, "Shipmistress, with all due respect you ask the impossible.." "No I do not, I merely ask that your troops do not almost die to mere environmental hazards and beasts. I would accept injury, I would even accept major injury in their pursuit of their duties. What I do not accept is them returning and requiring extensive cybernetic rebuilding simply to survive. The only reason I have not relieved you of your position is because in the past you have ensured that your scouts met my standards." Her finger had fallen silent as Zarnia lifted one of the data slates and gestured with it to Alara.
"Team one, found a possible landing sight with good chokepoints and shelter from the constant blizzards. However, in the process they lost most of their limbs due to frostbite and the anomalous properties of the world. Have I not refactored our protocols for such events? By doctrine the teams should have pulled back when we realized that the planet had a negative effect on their vitality. You were the one that gave the order to disregard that directive. Why?" Alara flinched at the pure icy venom in Zarnia's voice in the last word, there was none of the warmth that the shipmistress was known for instead only the harshly pragmatic commander was present.
"I made the choice to ensure that the Wardens would have enough information." There was more to the choice, but that lay at the core of her past actions and Alara hated herself with now for her teams were broken due to her orders. Zarnia's finger tapped once again on the synth wood of her desk her glare abating slightly as she leaned back in her chair, "An understandable reason, but Scout Master Alara, we have worked together for decades and you are no fonder of the Legions than I am. What is your real reason?" Alara sighed as the misdirection failed but it was not unexpected, "I was intrigued by the similarities present and wished to learn more." She fell into the unadorned chair made of basic synth wood just as all other items in the room were.
Zarnia leaned back in her synth wood chair as a finger rose to her lip, "I find it difficult to image that your homeworld of Valhalla is similar to this world beyond the surface. In light of personal interests resulting in damage to Imperial Army personal, Alara Isteren you are placed on probation for a period of no less than five years." The glare remained even as Alara relaxed trying to find a comfortable position within the chair.
Zarnia gestured and the holographic device that she had bartered from several Iron Warriors during the Maelstrom crusade flickered into life revealing the world. Massive blizzards covering hundreds of kilometers of surface, hurricane force winds throwing ice and snow at speeds sufficient to tear apart metal with the right angle. It was by all measures a miserable world, but people lived on it, in the middle of the northern hemisphere a large forest of ice covered trees could be seen piercing the snow. At the very peak of the world and around the equator a mountain chain that wrapped around the entire world taller than most mountains ever could be on normal worlds made entirely of ice and snow. Between the mountains wastelands of ice, snow and stone could be seen but on the holographic display it was clear that the mountains were the anomaly and the norm was the endless snowy wastelands.
Alara glared morosely at the image as data scrolled onto the screen. Average planetary temperature, minimum, peak and other such data points manifested in the light of the device. Zarnia's voice broke the silence once more frozen solid, "I checked your scout's supplies they were not issued the correct heaters, I then checked our supplies and found that due to various logistical inadequacies that we did not have access to the needed models. If I had discovered you had not outfitted them I would be pushing for your execution. However, due to you providing excess heating measures I have reduced your punishment to probation.
"Now, the summary of the report." Zarnia's clipped voice echoed through the room as the silent hologram kept spinning beside her. Alara sighed as she shook her head gathering her thoughts.
"Per your terminology, it is a semi benign warp-touched world, primarily keywords are Death, Necromancy, Undead, Soul. With at least one human empire based within the largest of the geothermal forests, primarily subterranean and reliant on a psyker ruler. Non peaceful, notable threats are: Undead, Cults, and natural lifeforms." Zarnia nodded at the summary as it did fit with what the more detailed reports had stated, with a flick of the finger she gestured towards the door and Alara nodded before leaving the room quickly.
As the door sealed behind her, Zarnia pulled the ten data slates towards her and began to flip through them again, she had already done it several times but here was always more to refresh her memory on and to ensure that the protocols could be improved.
Pushing aside the original reports in favor of her own summarized reports, she began to cross check them once more as sending faulty information to the Legions was the last thing anyone wanted to do if they had a modicum of sanity. If Karcer didn't order your execution then the astartes would the moment you dumped them into a clusterfuck and Zarnia had no intention of dying so stupidly.
Thankfully as much as it could be said the world was fairly, and she truly hated that this was the case, normal. It was by most measures merely a slightly than usual colder glacier deathworld, with stronger than average blizzards. But that was only the tip of the iceberg, because no warp touched world would be so mundane as to leave such things solely to mundane hazards. No, the worst hazards were related to the fact that the world was inherently tied to Death.
Team one was the first to land and they were able to determine a good landing spot near to the Icesong Forest as it was termed by the locals. However, only a few minutes after they landed the ground had shaken as what could only be ghosts erupted from the ground with a wail that saw the ice shatter and part. Thankfully the team was able to escape back to the shuttle and determine that the landing zone would be stable enough, but the fact that the world had in place of earthquakes some strange form of earthquake mixed with necromancy. The team had termed the event as a Gravewail and noted that it could be somewhat predicted by the vibration and a nearly inaudible wailing rising in volume and pitch.
However, the other hazards were if anything worse. Various plagues that somehow infected souls and storms that tore souls out of the living. The last had been captured on video by team 10 which was a truly horrifying thing to behold. Their flesh withered into leather, eyes decayed before becoming orbs of scorching hateful fire, spectral energy wrapped around their limbs as armor. Their voices screaming in pain before turning empty and raspy, dead and hallow of something so very critical. As one they left their supplies and began to walk with a jerky inhuman gait into the snowy wastes before the cameras were covered in fresh snow. It never became easier to watch the video, but it had to be done, and Zarnia would not force others to witness this horror. Alara and her were the only ones that needed to suffer the nightmares of this truth.
Thankfully the list of hazards was limited to only the blizzards, the ambient temperature, the various soul storms and plagues, along with the Gravewails. But where the list of hazards was limited the threats were more varied and more concerning. From the reports there were roughly five factions, though the actual unity of the five were in question Zarnia mused as she moved onto this part of the report.
The most concerning common enemy was the Risen as they were termed by the teams, undead skeletons, zombies, specters and other such foes. The problematic aspect was that those that died would likely return to unlife if not burned to ash quickly after their death, which will ensure that any invasion of the world will be constantly beset by backline enemies. However, it is not something out of protocol due to the Maelstrom Ritual. To combine with this is the constant vitality drain that renders people more vulnerable to disease and just tire more quickly than they should.
Another threat of equal importance were the living creatures of the world, which were massive by most standards seemingly using the same principles as deep sea life used to maintain their life force upon this world. Large and strong, with many displaying warp based powers relating to death, ice and soul manipulation from what team 6 could discover before they were consumed by a giant tunneling worm type monster. The other notable threats were creatures that were similar to dragons, giant mammoths, wolves and bears, along with at least a few giant insects that burrowed within the ice.
However, to Zarnai's experienced eyes the greatest threats lay not in the monsters of the world living or dead, but instead in the less common enemies. Within the endless mountains of ice Revenants prowled, the same things as what had become of Team 10. According to the information gained from the Undying Empire, the Revenats were hostile to all the living and hungered endlessly for blood and souls. Yet, what moved them above the standard was that they had all the boons of the living and also all the gains of the Risen. Zarnia scowled at the tactical problems of fighting a force that could rapidly adapt, and change as any sapient being xenos or man, but was also immune to the greatest dangers of the world. The cold mattered not to the dead, supply lines mattered only insofar as to ensure that they had gear. To say nothing of the fact that Revenants seemingly universally had limited command over the power of Death and Soul with the exceptional showing much greater control. Finally came the worry of what Team 10 could have shared with them regarding the imperium. It was not unlikely that any landing would be contested by starving Revenants something that she would have to inform the wardens of.
Where the Revenants were perhaps the most unified of the threats to the imperial army, there were thousands if not tens of thousands of Death Cults that lived in caves, scattered lands and other such places that varied from potential allies to servants of the Revenants. Yet, universally they would prove to challenge the conquest of the world. Along with the general death cults were the remains of the Jailer Tenares' legions both Living and Revenant within the wastes with soul forged relics and other such atrocities. Though, their numbers were pruned down thanks to the actions of the final notable force on the world.
Zarnia shivered involuntary as she remembered that meeting, Team 3 had managed to open communication with the only potential ally on the planet, the Undying Empire. The ruler was a man that had given his name as Thasar Thilmene Undying King of the Undying Empire. That hadn't been what disturbed her but when she had met him in an in person meeting upon her ship the first thing that came to mind was his size. Towering over almost everyone in her crew and herself at seven feet, with a build almost twice as wide as some of the deathworlders that were with her, he was a veritable mountain of muscle and well formed muscle at that. She had met far too many nobles that had sculpted their bodies for appearance without any thought to actual function, but Thasar was one of the lucky few that could combine both pure functional muscle without being unpleasant to behold.
The next thing she had noticed was the frost creeping along the metal from his footsteps and the snow forming around him. Even the few guards he had brought with him were seemingly shedding snow and ice within her ship. Their mere presence causing the temperature to fall and the vitality of the crew to drain. It was nothing compared to the planet's drain, but it was something to note. Thasar and his bodyguards had entered wearing furs and chainmail backed with thick leather, the metal of which had faintly glowing runes tracing along the surface of them with a faint blueish white light.
It was almost amusing watching as her men cowered before them even as they only had basic knives on their belts and no real ranged weapons beyond a couple small flintlock pistols that also glowed softly. The meeting that came after was the more interesting event, as Thasar confirmed that he was the ruler of the Undying Empire and revealed an overview of the world and its major regions. Zarnia shivered as she remembered the moment when he causally mentioned that he was the last scion of a nearly unbroken lineage of powerful psykers, and was peer to his father before him. As of yet she had yet to confirm his psychic ranking but it was clear that he was no mere zeta as she had watched legions of skeletons march at his command from orbit.
The meeting ended soon after but as he left he had handed over a chest with a nod of his head before returning to his home. Within the chest were a hundred pounds of fur, that were clearly picked for both beauty and functionality, with mesmerizing patterns in the fur that reflected light in almost prismatic fashion. The other part of the gift was a small knife carved from bone and engraved with more of those strange runes that burned silently with a clear blueish white radiance that never flickered. The right size to be used both in defense and also in general work in the kitchen and elsewhere, but with a notable curve to the blade turning it into almost a half scythe, the only reason that the knife was notable was that it was given to her not by name but by position. Where the furs had been a general gift, the knife had been stated to have been carved by a master's hand for the leader of the newcomers.
He had also provided a wealth of information on the regions of the world in addition to what she had been able to discover on her own accord. But his information was different enough to make it difficult to add to a concise summary for the Wardens. Forcing her to provide a summary of each of the major regions with his additional information as an addendum instead of being woven into the summary as she preferred.
Of note were fourteen regions, of which she had only been able to fully investigate 3 and had to rely heavily on Thasar's information for the other eleven which irritated her, but there was no feasible way for her to risk the lives needed to investigate such regions without support from the Wardens.
However, of the fourteen there were only five that were truly notable for various reasons to be overly concerned about with the rest being more supplemental to the general picture than large strokes to it.
The most obviously important region was the Icesong Forest, the center for where the Undying Empire existed and where Thasar had his citadel. From his own words nearly ten million people lived under his rule, supported by billions of skeletons controlled by him. He had noted that generally an Undying King would only be able to rouse a bare handful of millions of skeletons to service, but he and his father had been outliers if in different directions. He was the first that had proven to have the power and skill to rouse all of the honored dead resting within the great catacombs to service, while his father had been the best at empowering the ones he could command.
The region was not the smallest nor was it the largest, but somewhat of a middling scale on the planet where the temperatures reached almost to fifty degrees below 0. A truly miserable place to live by any standard measure but by the standards of the world in question it was the warmest place by a large margin a fact that Zarnia despised as she knew that it would become a colony world of the maelstrom, it could not. It had actual human infrastructure in place, it had been proven to be life bearing, making it one of the best colonies within this whole forsaken region of space.
Thasar has waxed a fair bit poetic on the harsh beauty of the forest, the music that could be heard as the trees and ice chimed in harsh winds and how the snowfall through the leaves would lead to mosaics of lights upon the fresh snow. He had even brought a handful of fresh berries from the gardens which had been properly quarantined until testing could prove them safe to consume. The horror stories of people eating deathworlder food even if exaggerated was nothing to test.
But beyond that, it was by far the best possible staging area though the armies being brought to bear would quickly dwarf any and all available means for the empire to handle them. Regardless of such issues, it would serve well as an astartes base camp and perhaps the staging ground for the core of the imperial army. Though, Zarnia made sure to note that there would be need for more heating elements and to ensure that glacier world uniforms were provided. She doubted that it world help, but maybe just maybe Karcer or Primarch Kesar could shake a few more such uniforms free of the black market.
Though at least the geothermal springs within the region would assist the imperium in expanding and building up the infrastructure of the region once brought into compliance.
The next region of notable interest was the Dreadfire Crater as it was named by Thasar, the site of some ancient meteoric impact or super weapon, but the result was the same. A massive hole some 6 kilometers deep revealing a massive amount of metals and a cavern system that ran under most of the known world according to Thasar. It was also the only source of what he had named erdra, which was the only material known to properly block the impact of soul storms and also prevent the Rising of the fallen. If that was true then it was a region that the Imperium had to conquer and quickly. However, that would be complicated by the fact that it burned with spectral flames that according to Thasar would slay any that bore a soul that came near them.
The next two were a paired region where one was contained within the other, the Umbral Valley was close to the Icesong Forest and Thasar had for several decades been waging a silent war against its denizens, mostly Risen and some Living, to claim it for his empire. He had told her that he intended to claim it for his people, but Zarnia doubted that, he was more likely after the riches held within its caverns. Umbral valley itself she could see the value of if only faintly, but the caverns below the ground would likely be the real prize for any noble. The scouting reports were clear in that the region was lousy with high quality gemstones and precious metals such as gold and platinum, for Thasar to seemingly be more exciting for farmland failed to pass the common sense test. Feudal world nobles and kings were all the same at the end in her experience, but she would make sure to note that region for conquest if only because mining there would be profitable and Thasar would likely accept the cost of such once the money started rolling in.
Though the Valley itself would be good to hold just for possible research. She wasn't one to generally consider whether places would be good for research, but in this case it was clearly an interesting place that was also stable. The Valley for some unknown reason never saw day, it was only ever twilight to midnight with midnight being much more common, but the presence of stars and other celestial bodies seemed to have a higher level of light emission within its borders than elsewhere. Thasar had told her that it was also the only place on the world where the ground was't always covered in snow, oh it was still almost always, but there were points when there was clear ground even though it was colder than Icesong Forest. Regardless, it would also be a good staging ground due to being cleared thanks to Thasar's actions.
Zarnia sighed as she turned towards the last of the truly notable regions, that was listed merely as Soulfury Peaks and the Deathforge, both obviously the result of someone desperately trying to come up with the most overly ominous names possible. The mountains were tall and extremely cold, reaching below two hundred thirty below zero and the base of the mountains at over one hundred below zero, but beyond the fact that a soul storm raged endlessly around the peaks she saw no reason to name them as such, and the Deathforge was clearly just someone being overly arrogant. They probably built a workshop that was somewhat impressive and had a bit of a reputation and had an apprentice to carry on their legacy and over the generations it turned into this report from Thasar of a mountain scale psychic machine that consumed soul and death energy to enchant objects. Maybe to a Feudal world king it was impressive, but Zarnia had seen the factories of Purgatorio itself and doubted that anything on this world could come close to that in scale or glory. The only notable reason worth considering the region for was that it was where the Revenants lived primarily among the soul storm covered peaks, but otherwise it was just feudal worlders hyping up their world as they so often did.
The last zone that she had a real report on was the Desert of Bones, another somewhat anomalous region where a glacier had turned the area's surface into sand and gravel. But that wasn't the weirdest part, the skeletons and even the specters of the region somehow held grit within their forms. The team that had explored the region had determined that it was a prime landing spot, but that the local Risen were far more dangerous to deal with than anywhere else, able to absorb and accept extreme amounts of punishment thanks to the ice and sand that filled their bodies. It was due to that surprise that resulted in their wounds before they managed to retreat. However, it was acceptable with heavier weapons the local problems could be solved, and it was not a particularly important region making it a good staging ground compared to most other regions.
The other notable areas were of less quantified reports sadly, relying mostly on Thasar's statements for them rather than her trusted teams, but it was the best she had to go on. It would mean that she would have to inform the Wardens that there was always a chance for the information to be incorrect and likely to be so. Thasar was a powerful psychic, and skilled ruler, but she would not trust his understanding of the situation against the Imperial army's scouts. A feudal king would have blindspots and other limitations that could not be superseded, it was a sad truth that she had learned over the decades of service in the exploration fleets.
The newest zone was also the most interesting if it was true, but overall it was likely to just be a lie or boast of some sort, even if she could not determine the exact reasoning for it. According to Thasar in the land around where he killed his father, the dead remained at rest and have for decades by now. Zarnia sighed as she had to write that into the report even though she added her own thoughts to it indicating that she doubted the truthfulness of the statements and that it was likely just a feudal noble boasting of their strength.
Where the last region had been questionable due to its nature, this next territory was not so much in doubt considering the confirmed existence of the desert of bones along with orbital confirmation of the existence of an active volcano in the general area of it. If Thasar's information could be trusted which Zarnia had to note was a concerning possibility in this case, the area was home to what could be best termed as obsidian golems, where specters had taken possession of and animated obsidian into bodies along with the more normal Risen having their bones coated in the rock resulting in strangely dangerous Risen which according to Thasar could cut through even steel. Of course they could cut through feudal steel, but the odds of them cutting through even basic steel of a less primitive world was questionable, but it had to be listed.
For a glacier world there were no open air oceans that was obvious, but in a departure from the norm there was only one known large body of water under the ice rather than most such worlds being entirely water under the ice covering. This under ice ocean covered a good amount of territory the fullest extent not known to her or Thasar, but it was extensive with there being several stone mountains that erupted through the ice where now Revenants live. From orbit it was possible to make out ruins of housing and other buildings suitable for human habitation and Thasar has in a perhaps foolish action revealed that one of his very distant ancestors had cursed the people of the islands before they had become Revenants though he had refused to admit that they were made Revenants by his ancestors which as quite obviously the case, but she could accept abiding by that little lie, though she did make sure to underline that fact in her report to the wardens that Thasar's family had a history of cursing humans with their powers but that Thasar himself had not shown any such action as of yet.
Adjacent to the islands of Revenants was what Thasar had told her was the Soulstorm Abyss, another overly boastful name designed to evoke awe from credulous people. Regardless, according to Thasar it was a place where souls went after their deaths to be eroded into a liquid that fuels the Deathforge and the world as a whole. It was also apparently the source of the soul rending storms that at times ravaged the world. The only reason it was even worth humoring was that it was apparently a source of extremely powerful gemstones that were considered precious by every being on the world.
The final real region that was not just a catch all term was the Festering Hive, which was just weird if it truly existed. Even Thasar seemed almost confused on if it was a real thing or not, though he did say that it was real, but that he had no idea why or how it existed. Regardless, according to him it was a glacier that was less a solid block of ice and more of a warren insects that had been carved out over the ages. With everything from maggots to mosquitoes and other stranger analogs, but otherwise it was of only minor importance to the greater picture.
Everything else fell into the umbrella term of the spectral wastes where effectively every being of all stripes existed in some form or another, mostly ice and snow covered stone. There was everything from good landing zones to mountainous terrain covered within the umbrella term and even Thasar didn't have much to say on the matter beyond that most of the world would fall into the classification.
Several hours after she had begun, Zarnia put aside the data slate content that she had written the best report she could manage for the Wardens at the current time, she would have preferred to provide more information, but the situation prevented that sadly.
Years 51-55 Part 9 - A Bridge Too Far
- Location
- Elsewhere
[X] Plan Not A Battle, A Rescue Operation
-[X] Tactical Offensive
-[X] Deploy Solarus in the void
-[X] Tactical Offensive
-[X] Deploy Solarus in the void
"We're being overrun!"
"The flank is collapsing, we need immediate - "
"Fall back! Fall back!"
"We're cut off, requesting immediate air evacuation at coordinates [DATA CORRUPTED]."
"This is the 385th Holander Regiment, we need Astartes support immediately at [DATA CORRUPTED]."
"Where the hell is our artillery support?!"
Panicked vox transmissions filled the air as order began to rapidly break down west of Fortress 467. Exposed and easy targets, lacking the numbers needed to hold, and lacking fortifications due to the fortress constantly bombarding them the forces there never stood a chance. Of the ten thousand Astartes present, only 40% managed to escape, with the other 60% meeting their end in a variety of ways. Whether it was from artillery bombardment, armored columns, constant sniper fire, or being overrun with infantry frames, the Wardens and Iron Warriors present could barely stay alive themselves.
And for the Imperial Army … things were far worse.
Swiftly cut off and surrounded, the guardsmen faced an encirclement against an enemy that outnumbered them, held air supremacy, and had a literal fortress bombarding them whenever they tried to maneuver or form up. And when the odds were stacked against them to such an extent, the standing order of the Imperial Army was clear. Fight until the end.
"This is General Oliver, all units, stand down. I repeat, all units stand down. I formally offer the unconditional surrender of the forces under my command."
Or they could do that.
Little bits of cold logic filtered through the host of parameters and processors, advising that the next best move would be to destroy and eliminate as many enemies as possible, weakening their resolve. I once again elect to ignore these thoughts. This devil on my shoulder shall not override the angel. Not here. Not now. What little virtue that remained within my coding shall not falter for now.
Glancing at 270's continued defense of the Missile Battery and the growing frustration of Kesar Dorlin, it's clear that at this point the war has been won. The Western flank is in utter disarray, and local Astartes commanders in the Southern flank are currently realizing their position is untenable. In a matter of hours, they will begin a retreat before abandoning the guardsmen to what they believe to be death. More defectors for myself it would seem.
Were I human, I would smile. As it is, any AI would notice the series of packets sent out and recognize it for the emotions they are. It's a shame that 270 is still learning, a conversation at the speed of AI is something I haven't had in millennia.
More human processes spin to life, there is a temptation to gloat, but I know better. Gloating is all well and good, provided it's done for a greater purpose. Gloating for the sake of rubbing in victory only serves to create enemies and make one overconfident. Instead, I glance over at the naval war I command. And at the enemy's flagship.
I had a few ideas for that.
Kesar realized that he really, really hated 270. The constant accusations and screaming were grating on him, and even his self-control was fraying. At this point, the Primarch decided to stop responding to the mad mortal's rantings. That seemed to help matters momentarily, as demands for answers, accusations of apathy, and philosophical questions were met with silence. And after a few hours of the silent treatment, 270 stopped attempting conversation, electing to start bothering guardsmen instead.
Unfortunately, this was proving effective, as the combination of a continued stalemate, high attrition rates, the collapse of multiple flanks, and general low morale in the Imperial Army made 270's tragic backstory resonate with several regiments. This compounded already problematic offensives, making them far more of a mess as officers and conscripts began to try and skirt orders. Lives that were once available to spend as currency for victory suddenly turned into living, breathing humans who didn't want to die. And Kesar hated that it was a problem for him.
His Titans were right there, visible to his eyes. And yet, they may as well be in another sector entirely. He was running out of available units, as both guardsmen and Astartes died trying to reclaim the Titan hulls. By the warp, he had so much left to do on this planet. The rescue of his sons wasn't even in the scouting stages, not to mention the stretch goals of securing various information caches.
Then, the unthinkable happened, and the southern flank collapsed as well. Leaving a direct path to his rear line, Kesar knew that he was out of time. "Damn you," he growled out, angrily ripping apart a robot with telekinesis. Taking a breath to calm himself, the Primarch began to work through his options and hated the conclusion he came up with. "Begin to withdraw," he directed towards the Khalsa. "Start with the Titans, then move to Astartes and end with guardsmen."
This wasn't over, no matter what Epsilon may think. This was a temporary defeat. In a few years, Kesar would return. This time with at least five times as many forces as before. And then, then Epsilon would die.
Karcer let out an audible groan when she regained consciousness. Dragging herself to a knee, she blinked blood from her eyes, forcing herself to analyze the situation and remember what happened.
The bridge of the Vigilance had taken a direct hit from one of the enemy flagship's secondary weapons. And with the Gloriana's command structure stunned, the flagship began to aggressively bombard the Warden's finest vessel, tearing large holes in the starboard engine. Looking out from the shattered windows of the bridge, Karcer could see the faint yaw from the impacts, slowly rotating the Vigilance. And she could see multiple boarding craft rapidly accelerating to where she was.
Limping towards a command console, Karcer ordered control to devolve to local command, further declaring that the bridge was compromised and that enemy boarding attempts were underway. Bouncing a message through the fleet as well, she then ordered a general purge of information from the bridge's systems. But before the process could be completed, one of Epsilon's boarding ships crashed through the broken windows.
More than two dozen of Epsilon's elite units disembarked, immediately fanning out to fulfill their roles. Two of them pointed weapons at her, and she responded by raising her hands. "Lord General Militant Karcer Urial, do you not see just how unnecessary this was?" The voice of Epsilon-354 spoke from one of the elites, a surprising amount of facial dexterity allowing it to talk in a way that seemed utterly natural.
"If it was up to me, we'd have already left," she replied honestly. "Unfortunately, the Imperium has issues with the chain of command."
"I wouldn't say that," the AI explained. "The Imperium's chain of command is quite clear, the Emperor's orders are absolute, and the Primarchs act with his authority. You, unfortunately, are placed well below Kesar Dorlin in the chain of command."
Karcer bristled at the manipulation. She knew what it was, but damn it, it was accurate. She'd thought about it for decades now, ever since that damned Guilliman destroyed her career because his orders overrode hers. "Do you think I'm an idiot? That I don't know that?" She growled, keeping herself from stepping forward as one of the robots disarmed her. "I clawed my way into it once more, ask the Wardens about Oriacarius' standing orders related to me."
Epsilon sighed, lowering the gun in his hands. "Then why are you still here?" He gestured towards the holographic display which shifted into a high-fidelity map of the ground war. "A logical commander would have sounded the retreat long ago. So why did that not happen?"
"The Primarch had other priorities," she replied flippantly. "I wasn't willing to push the matter further." A part of her was tempted to do so, but she achieved her goals either way. Either the Primarch succeeded and she'd appear as the accepting officer she was, or the Primarch failed and he would remember that Karcer had predicted it. "He chose to order an advance."
"And yet you still follow these ludicrous orders."
Karcer narrowed her eyes at the machines, "I am many things, but I am not a coward nor am I the type to remain idle in battle. So either shut up and fight or stand still so I can silence you myself."
"You're lying to yourself," Epsilon appeared disappointed in her response. "Every officer still in the Imperium has become idle in both spirit and action. I could argue it was cowardice, but it's a bit more complicated than that."
Karcer felt herself snarl, "What do you know about bravery? You who hid in a warp storm for millennia rather than face the horrors that killed mankind?"
The AI visibly paused, the body Epsilon inhabited visibly twitching. It took the machine several seconds to compose itself, for the remark had proven strangely rage-inducing for him. "...You are ignorant and ill-informed, so I won't hold it against you." The holographic display shifted once more to a map of the galaxy depicting a messy, complicated civil war across the galaxy. "I fought the Aeldari Dominion, I fought in the Iron War, I faced multiple Omega models and emerged victorious, I counter hacked an AI allied with Be'lakor, and I have faced daemons from each of the Chaos Gods." The AI's eyes glowed with fury. "I have forgotten more nightmares than you will ever know, so understand that I know the meaning of bravery."
"Good for you." Karcer spat at the machines, "Because a lot good that did for the rest of us that were fighting and dying across a thousand other fronts."
"Those battles I fought meant more for the good of mankind than you can possibly imagine."
Karcer still looked unmoved by his reasoning. "Little pictures don't matter much to you..."
"Because the big picture was drenched in promethium and burning!" Epsilon replied, "Every front was actively collapsing, 99 in 100 colonies died out entirely, the human population fell from septillions to quadrillions, and all anyone, all I could do was try and put out the fire with the thimbles I could scrounge together."
Karcer snorted, "Congratulations, you fought enemies that I haven't heard about before. Then left human society for a few millennia. Truly I'm convinced."
"The Omega models were the most advanced AI mast produced by humanity, and Be'lakor is the most prominent Daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided," Epsilon explained off-hand before redirecting towards Karcer's accusation. "Leaving human contact … " The AI briefly paused, seemingly recalculating several decisions, "was due to cowardice, you are correct."
"At least you understand it," Karcer said somewhat flummoxed at the rapid change in stance from the machine.
"Stand in the ashes of uncountable souls and ask yourself, am I alright?" An unsettling expression crossed the AI's face. "The answer will never be yes. And so, I latched on to the one thing I could, trying to undo it all and stop the birth of Slaanesh from ever happening."
Karcer sighed, "Great, another enemy I've never heard about. Lovely."
Epsilon visibly froze, "...What do you mean you've never heard about Slaanesh?"
"...I would think it's fairly self-explanatory. I've never heard of Slaanesh."
"Chaos?" Karcer shook her head. "Tzeentch? Khorne? Nurgle? Daemons?" Karcer hated that she recognized none of those names, apart from daemons. She'd overheard the term from an inexperienced Astartes at one point. "Just when I think the Imperium can't get worse I learn about this, take notes on this." Epsilon thrust a tablet into Karcer's hands. "We have a few days before I have to withdraw, so in that time I'll teach you the basics of Chaos."
"I would have thought I'd become a prisoner," Karcer mused.
"That was the original plan," Epsilon admitted, "But now I see a better opportunity." He directed her attention to the holographic display, "For now, pay attention and take notes. There will be a test."
This would certainly be an interesting few days, Karcer mused.
Dantioch looked down at the various reports with a mixture of a scowl and a smile. The broader naval battle had gone incredibly well thus far, with him managing to achieve a number of maneuvering victories which were in turn leveraged into tactical and strategic victories. His work had managed to bring the battle from heavily tilted against him into a battle that was nearly even. In fact, if Epsilon hadn't begun skirmishing, he'd have made it a completely even fight rather than the stalemate it was. But that was where the good news ended.
The Vigilance's bridge had only just been retaken after two weeks of fighting. Requiring reinforcements from additional Astartes and the personal intervention of Captain Aurelian, the fight resulted in the total destruction of all electronic equipment in the area and resulted in multiple Astartes losses. When Epsilon's forces finally retreated, damage control teams led by Forgemaster Bodin attempted to determine the extent of the damage and begin counteracting the numerous viruses and worms the AI had left behind.
Nearly every firewall on the Gloriana had been breached and the machine spirit itself had been temporarily chained down by the AI in the digital fight. A particularly problematic outcome due to the rather sensitive information onboard with only air-gapped systems avoiding compromise during the two-week period. All of this was a problem for the future and Dantioch knew it would allow Epsilon to adapt to Imperial tactics far easier.
Recovering Lord General Militant Karcer alive and while had been a pleasant surprise. Dantioch's thoughts on the mortal were complicated, but overall he thought of her as a skilled Lord General Militant, one he would be happy to work with. However, the attempt at undermining a Primarch was a foolish one, and Dantioch knew the only reason she still lived was because Lord Primarch Dorlin was forgiving. If she had tried that with Lion … It would not have ended well.
And by the warp the ground war … Well, Dantioch's only thoughts on that were that it should have been far, far worse.
If Epsilon had not preferred prisoners over corpses, he estimated the entire Imperial Army contingent would have been dead. By all rights, they should have been, but Epsilon had instead prioritized the capture of undamaged equipment including multiple command nodes. While no Astartes command posts had been captured, there were a few close calls, not to mention Epsilon did manage to take a significant proportion of Astartes corpses.
The Titan hulls themselves were still being fought over, although the AI's reinforcements had managed to hold the line and inflict significant attrition on a variety of forces in the area. None of this was good, but at this point, there was only one choice left.
"This is Force Commander Dantioch, all forces prepare to withdraw."
At least he'd managed to maneuver enough to allow for a relatively secure avenue of retreat. By the warp if he hadn't managed that it would have been horrific.
The mood was somber aboard the Warden Battleship currently being used as a command center. Kesar sat to the side, letting Aurelian, Dantioch, and Karcer discuss operational concerns and various logistical adjustments. Durante and Vergil had elected not to join the discussion, choosing to finish their after-action reports and get some rest. At the moment, the three commanders were discussing what they would need for another assault, citing the need to pull units from various positions in the area.
But Kesar himself suspected something different. During the retreat, Epsilon had been mostly quiet, choosing to avoid any verbal barbs that may reignite immediate conflict. But when the fleet had reached the system's edge, the AI sent a final transmission. "At the cost of 200 billion lives, you have received a single colony. I know it wasn't worth it."
He'd shared his suspicions with the group, but by and large, was content to try and destress. Focusing on the failures was useful, to a point. And he had worked out a number of areas for improvement. Casualty protocols would have to be reevaluated substantially, moreover, EWAR systems would have to be updated across the Imperium to account for unexpected avenues of attack. Mentally, Kesar was glad he had sons he could delegate this work to. Bodin and Scotty had already begun forwarding some of the new SOPs, software updates, and hardware redesigns to the rest of the Legion. And he expected all of them would be rather useful overall. The Legion faced adversity, and it had grown stronger from it. Kesar just wished it had been a simpler fight overall.
He still wanted to know what it was Epsilon had talked to Karcer about, but all she had done was look at him with a furious expression before saying she wasn't in the mood for that conversation at the moment.
*Kesar gains For Those We Cherish, Endure All - Twice per compliance, Kesar can take a wound in exchange for negating 1 Degree of Failure for the army battle*
*Dantioch gains The Miracle Admiral - +10 to void command, -25% losses for void combat*
*Aurelian gains The Cold Calculus of War - -15% losses for void combat*
*Karcer gains Out of the Pan, Into the Fire - +30 to rolls to escape capture, other narrative effects.*
*Karcer gains An Unorthodox Teacher - +10 Corruption Resistance*
*The Eternal Wardens gain AI Experiences - +20 to cybersecurity, -5% casualties taken, +3 Legion Combat, +6 Void Combat, +10 to detecting infiltrators*
There was another detail to consider, that being the Eldar's rather open offer for exchanging trade, favors, and information. While Kesar had expected Karandras to be the messenger for it, he instead had the rather strange experience of dealing with a Shard of Khaine that was giving him odd looks every now and then.
The Eldar Trade (Current Favor Debt: 0)
The Eldar Offer
[] A single divination from Eldrad (Costs 2 favors)
[] A Shard of Khaine on to remain on standby for a century (Costs 1 favor, costs 1 favor each time it's deployed)
[] 200 Aspect Warriors that will assist where relevant for a century (Costs 2 favor)
[] A library card for 5% of the Black Library (Costs 1 favor, can be repeated four times)
[] Recovery of a minor STC (Costs 1 favor)
[] An elite human regiment to assist where relevant for a century (Costs 3 favors)
[] An Eldar seer to assist where relevant for a century (Costs 1 favor)
[] Emergency Webway access once this century, limited to 10 thousand individuals (Costs 1 favor)
[] Black Covenant Information Probes (Costs 1 favor)
[] Greater Daemon locations (Costs 0 favors)
[] A Spar with Khaine (Costs 0 favors, uses an Other action next turn)
[] Eldar lessons on write-in (Favor costs vary)
[] Write-in
The Eldar are Willing to Purchase
[] Kesar will be on call if the Eldar need him (Provides 2 favors, Provides 2 favors each time Kesar is called in)
[] A Warden hero will be on call if the Eldar need them (Provides 1 favor, Provides 1 favor each time they are called in)
[] The Eldar ask for a series of promotions and demotions among guardsmen officers (Provides 1 favor)
[] Kesar attends Harlequin dance lessons (Provides 1 favor, locks a social with Guilliman next turn)
[] Kesar visits Commorragh (Provides 1 favor, locks a social next turn with Vect?)
[] The Daemonic Relics in Warden storage (Provides 1 favor)
[] The Emperor's Notes (Provides 4 favors)
[] A Primal Rune of the Anathema (Provides 0 favors)
[] Write-in
The Warden's Walk: 5 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 5 (Forward Unto Dawn) + 20 (Omakes) + 1 (Defenses) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 120 (Kesar) + 30 (The Primarch is Here) + 40 (Durante and Vergil) + 5 (Outnumbered) + 5 (The Khalsa) + 15 (Titans) + 5 (Vindicare) + 3 (Injured Vanus) = 438
+433
Missile Battery: 78 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 40 (Defenses) + 40 (Anti-Air) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 80 (Titans) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 20 (Armored Forces) + 21 (270) + 20 (Numbers) + 30 (Artillery Park) = 484
+406
The Western Line: 18 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Outnumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 247
+229
The Far Side: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 30 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) + 20 (Fortress 467 Sally) = 344
+295
The Southern Line: 16 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 245
+229
The Southern Flank: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 5 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) = 299
+250
The Void War: 59 + 39 (Void Combat) + 20 (Iron Warriors) + 20 (Astartes) + 105 (Dantioch) + 30 (Vigilance) + 20 (Teleportation) + 20 (Omakes) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 50 (Khaine) - 25 (Anti-Champion) - 20 (Chaff) + 10 (Numbers) + 5 (Solarus Pushing Himself) = 338
+279
My Turn: 13 + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Void Combat) + 130 (Epsilon's Command) + 40 (Flagship) + 30 (Orbital Defenses) - 10 (Lost Escorts) - 20 (Lost Cruisers) - 20 (Lost Battleships) + 10 (Hammer Down) = 303
+290
The Vigilance: 7 + 100 (Gloriana) + 30 (Vigilance) + 10 (Omakes) + 20 (Karcer) + 5 (Omake) = 172
+160
The Flagship: 42 + 120 (Flagship) + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Elites) - 15 (Anti-Champion) = 267
+225
Karcer's Status: 31 (Captured) + 30 (Omakes) = 61
Total Losses: 29k Astartes
+433
Missile Battery: 78 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 40 (Defenses) + 40 (Anti-Air) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 80 (Titans) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 20 (Armored Forces) + 21 (270) + 20 (Numbers) + 30 (Artillery Park) = 484
+406
The Western Line: 18 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Outnumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 247
+229
The Far Side: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 30 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) + 20 (Fortress 467 Sally) = 344
+295
The Southern Line: 16 + 20 (Astartes) + 95 (Legion Combat) + 19 (Anti-Daemon) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 20 (Teleportariums) + 20 (Omakes) + 20 (Legion Exchange) + 5 (Ountumbered) + 30 (Retreat) = 245
+229
The Southern Flank: 49 + 80 (Infantry Frames) + 60 (Technology) + 30 (ECM) + 20 (Armored Spearhead) + 30 (Artillery Park) + 20 (NUmbers) + 5 (Local Supercomputers) + 5 (Fortress 467 Overwatch) = 299
+250
The Void War: 59 + 39 (Void Combat) + 20 (Iron Warriors) + 20 (Astartes) + 105 (Dantioch) + 30 (Vigilance) + 20 (Teleportation) + 20 (Omakes) + 5 (Blood of Our Brothers) + 50 (Khaine) - 25 (Anti-Champion) - 20 (Chaff) + 10 (Numbers) + 5 (Solarus Pushing Himself) = 338
+279
My Turn: 13 + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Void Combat) + 130 (Epsilon's Command) + 40 (Flagship) + 30 (Orbital Defenses) - 10 (Lost Escorts) - 20 (Lost Cruisers) - 20 (Lost Battleships) + 10 (Hammer Down) = 303
+290
The Vigilance: 7 + 100 (Gloriana) + 30 (Vigilance) + 10 (Omakes) + 20 (Karcer) + 5 (Omake) = 172
+160
The Flagship: 42 + 120 (Flagship) + 60 (Technology) + 60 (Elites) - 15 (Anti-Champion) = 267
+225
Karcer's Status: 31 (Captured) + 30 (Omakes) = 61
Total Losses: 29k Astartes
Not One More Name
Not One More Name
Kesar Dorlin had failed.
There was no other way to interpret the results of the war against Epsilon.
No matter how this could be spun for the masses, no matter how much Kesar could lie to others or himself and say that this was simply the best option, Kesar Dorlin knew that he had failed to lead his legion.
There were so many different excuses Kesar could come up with.
He could point to faulty reconnaissance deceiving his commanders into believing the threat to be lesser, or failing to spot the minefields on their direct path, he could point to the Imperial Army soldiers who fled for their lives rather than stay and fight, he could point to the failures of the mortals to hold their ground against superior forces, he could even point to the wider strategic picture that forced him to split his forces unfavorably.
But Kesar Dorlin knew better.
He knew that Primarchs were not immune to failure, he knew that even the most brilliant leaders in the universe could be wrong. Lorgar's fall had taught him all he needed to know on that count.
Kesar should have known not to underestimate the abominable intelligence, for one had nearly fractured his legion decades ago.
Kesar should have known that he would need more help in the ground war and taken one of his Heroes away from Lahrens to aid him here.
Kesar should have known that the aftermath of his psychic awakening would leave him too debilitated to make the difference needed for victory.
Kesar should have known that Oriacarius was right to be more cautious, he should have known that Karcer was right to want to retreat, he should have known that their assessment of his strategic situation was the right call, that his desire and greed for a victory was out of line with reality.
Karcer, a single human commander, one who had not even seen a fraction of the wars that he had fought and led in, was right in her assessment, and he, the Primarch, the Beta class psyker, the leader, the Daemonsbane and Anathema, was wrong.
As Kesar Dorlin looked at the machine world of Epsilon slowly becoming smaller and smaller against the backdrop of the void, Kesar Dorlin knew he had severely misunderstood the capabilities of his forces.
When the Imperial Army had been slaughtered on their approach, reducing two hundred billion soldiers to only twenty billion merely on their approach through simple naval warfare, Kesar should have known then that Epsilon was a powerful foe.
Kesar had underestimated the abilities of Epsilon's infantry and overestimated the ability of his sons to strike without the support of the Imperial Army. He had forgotten that it was that everyday soldier, the men and women who fought alongside him for a chance to go home, that truly made a difference in a war.
Dantioch, Aurelian, and Karcer had proven their worth in the fighting every time he asked, going far above and beyond his expectations whenever he needed them to and never failing to meet the challenges that arose.
Dantioch had led an utterly brilliant naval warfare strategy, proving himself as one of the greatest commanders not just of the astartes or even the First Captains, but of the Imperium itself as he consistently managed to match Epsilon's overwhelming forces with strategic maneuvers no matter what challenge faced him.
Aurelian had risen to the challenge himself, commanding his forces and spending their lives exactly as needed in order to prevent a total collapse and buying both Kesar and Dantioch time to do what needed to be done with a perfect understanding of the abilities of the Imperial Navy when it was needed.
Karcer had captained the Vigilance excellently, maintaining the ship against the superior flagship of Epsilon with care and skill as she prevented the enemy from destroying his best warship time and time again. She had not prevented it from being damaged, but she had saved it from destruction, which was enough.
Even Durante had shown himself to be a Hero of the Imperium time and time again, managing to delay several different missile strikes that would have annihilated the forces he had left without needlessly endangering the lives of any of his soldiers.
And what had Kesar himself done?
Whenever Kesar commanded, he found himself outmatched by Epsilon's strategies.
Whenever Kesar fought, he was too slow to save the battlelines that needed to be reinforced.
Whenever Kesar tried to do both, he found himself stretched thin and making simple mistakes that made him shake his head in frustration for having missed those.
The Heroes of the Imperium had shown their worth no matter the dangers, no matter the cost, and had made the abominable intelligence suffer badly for every mistake while Kesar himself floundered helplessly, running from one front to another, too oblivious to the larger strategic goals to meaningfully contribute.
Logically, Kesar knew that even this much would have been impossible without his presence, for his raw power and speed had allowed him to take on entire hordes and give vital breathing room for the other commanders to do their work, but he had not done enough.
He could have better positioned his forces from the very beginning of the ground war, combining his forces together and utilizing his own strength as well as the strength of his titans to act freely and annihilate Epsilon's forces completely unopposed and draw away attention from the void.
Or perhaps, he could have even abandoned the ground war entirely and focused purely on the void so that he could achieve true orbital dominance, which would have doubtless made this entire land campaign a far smoother endeavor.
Kesar Dorlin looked down at his armor, filled with the names of his dead sons, the ones he had failed to save.
From this war alone, twenty-nine thousand names would be added, twenty-nine thousand sons who had fallen because he failed to protect his sons.
Twenty-nine thousand sons who would never speak again as a result of his failure to appreciate the value of humans and protect them from the horrors of Epsilon.
Kesar reached for his carving tools and began to carve in yet more names to the armor, the names of the sons he wishes he could have spent more time with.
No more, Kesar says to himself.
No more shall he allow himself to be blinded by his pride and his ambition.
No more shall he fail to appreciate the strength and the power that can be found in humans.
No more shall he allow himself to blind himself with delusions of a victory that could never be achieved.
No more shall he allow humans to die meaninglessly for a cause they never believed in, for a demi-god who never cared.
He would push himself beyond all limits to save his sons, but he needed to go even further beyond to save humanity.
The Emperor had given up his humanity in order to save humanity, a mistake borne out of despair and short-sighted ambitions of a dream that could never be.
Kesar Dorlin would not give up his humanity, but he would give it all regardless.
As Kesar Dorlin finished carving the last name of his fallen sons into his armor, the Daemonsbane prepared to look at upon his domain once more and realize the cost of the mistakes he had made and open himself to all the voices of value who he had once denied for his own selfish dreams.
He would not allow them to fall anymore.
He would not allow their names, their histories, their values, to be lost and reduced to a simple name and a bittersweet memory.
So long as he lived and breathed, he would not allow any more to die because of his own mistakes, not allow any more names to be lost and forgotten, their sole comfort to be given a place upon his armor dedicated to a hundred thousand other souls and slowly forgotten by the march of time.
Not one more name.
The Butcher of Men
The Butcher of Men
Aurelian looked over the data of the war against Epsilon as he quietly carved a few names into his armor. There was a lot of data for him to go over as he studied his own tactical decisions during the war for Epsilon.
Aurelian watched and cursed as his past-self sent out one of his warships to intercept a squadron of Epsilon's fireships. His calculations had been right at the time, as the Imperial Navy's ships under his command would have been savaged had the fireships been given even half a second to charge their weapons.
But now he realized his mistake in sending in his ships early as the fireships came in at a staggered formation, drastically limiting the effectiveness of his suicidal ambush strike before they were cut down.
He had estimated that his cold, calculated decision would net him at least a quarter of the enemy ships, but he had only managed a tenth before the fireships reorganized themselves and shifted the naval battle to a more standard line engagement.
It was a critical mistake that took him from a guaranteed win at the cost of only a few ships for the total destruction of the enemy, to a bloody draw at the cost of a quarter of his fleet in exchange for half of Epsilon's forces.
Still a victory by all accounts as Dantioch assured, for the total defeat of his enemy was not necessary, only the assurance that they would not be able to inflict a devastating flanking maneuver on the larger fleet.
But it still stung just a bit to realize that the early sacrifice of his forces was not only unnecessary, but that it did not achieve victory.
Oh yes, it would come as quite a surprise to many of the soldiers under his command, and even his brothers, to hear that Aurelian considered his failure on this count to be a waste of life and resources.
Aurelian had earned his reputation as the Butcher decades ago during the Maelstorm, and he had done little to reverse his reputation.
Instead, the warden leaned into it, using the title to inspire fear and obedience in his forces as he sacrificed countless lives to ensure that the line was held, that the Imperium's goal would be met no matter the cost.
It was cold and brutal of him to send so many to their deaths, but in the Maelstrom, the securing of Zezame was necessary as ordered by Lord Perturabo, and the mountain of corpses that lined the horizon was the only way to carry it out.
And ever since then, Aurelian had not held back his newfound brutal calculus as he continued to sacrifice Imperial lives for victory time and time again.
But he did not construct his decisions based upon malice or indifference for the Imperial Army or for humanity, he did it so that he could win sooner and end the fighting before it had a chance to get worse.
Many would decry him as a heartless monster, but it was because he had carried out the most monstrous acts known to mankind in its attempts to reach out to the stars that he understood just how heavy the burden he carried was.
He did not have the qualities of the other Wardens, the ones that let them carry the day through sheer skill and ingenuity.
He did not have Maticus' sublime skill, or Oriacarius' unparalleled intellect, or Doom Slayer's untiring rage.
All he had was himself, and the mortals and brothers he was given command over.
Without the legendary skill known only to those who were Heroes, Aurelian knew that he had no choice but to fight dirty and make up the difference through whatever resources he had available to him.
Aurelian paused the recording and his carving as he traced a finger over the name of the one mortal he had put on his armor.
It was astonishing to him that even to this day, Aurelian knew that Otto Fritzkin would beat him.
No matter how many bodies he piled up, or how many forces he had at his disposal, he knew that Otto would find a way to slip free of his forces and carry the day through strategic brilliance, in a manner very similar to how Dantioch had done so at Epsilon.
But as Aurelian reminisced on his past friend, his thoughts turned to what the mortal might think of him now that he had become the butcher.
Would he be disgusted? Appalled? Approving? Silently sad?
For some reason, Aurelian could not come up with an adequate answer despite knowing him for decades.
A cold feeling ran through his body, as Aurelian realized that in his decades long butchery, there was a chance he was slowly starting to lose his humanity as the pile of bodies weighing on his consciousness continued to grow.
Aurelian steadied himself with a deep breath as he brought himself back to the present.
He could not be the perfect Eternal Warden, not anymore. Not after he dragged his reputation into the mud and tainted it with the blood of trillions, but he could prevent others from having to do the same.
Despite his own failings, his brothers were still looked fondly upon, if only to a degree, Maticus Ventamedes himself standing as a shining beacon of kindness and nobility in a galaxy shrouded in darkness.
Aurelian silently resolved himself then to protect his brothers from the shadows in a way that they would never appreciate.
While the Eternal Wardens would be known as saviors, he would be their butcher.
He would be the mad dog that went to war and did the dirty work, the one who got down on his hands and knees and soiled himself so that his brothers could climb ahead of him.
They might hate him, they might fear him, but that did not matter to him anymore.
His brothers needed someone to lead where they could not, and so for the sake of an entire legion, and for the love of his father, he would be their butcher of men.