Nareth boarded the escort frigate with Rosicky and Arsena.
He instructed the Forge Lord: "Run diagnostics on the frigate and confirm whether the Gellar Field can coexist with the Jokaero Force Field."
Light flickered in Nareth's eyes as he gazed outward.
Through his Warp Sight, he perceived an invisible barrier surrounding the vessel.
'The Jokaero Force Field… a tangible energy shield.'
Moments later, the Gellar Field activated.
'Hmm… The Gellar Field doesn't project a barrier to block the Warp. Instead, it creates a bubble in real space-time, one consistent with physical laws, enveloping the ship.'
'It is a "bubble" generated by psykers sealed deep within the vessel, stabilizing realspace around it against the shifting tides of the Warp.'
'Thus, daemons that cannot normally exist in reality are repelled beyond its bounds.'
After careful scrutiny, Nareth reached his conclusion: The tangible Jokaero Force Field could indeed coexist with the non-physical Gellar Field.
'An energy shield like this ought to consume immense power.'
'Yet the Old Ones' hybrid of technology and psychic craft is peculiar, its draw is small, not even requiring fortress-class reactor output.'
Twenty-nine minutes later, the Forge Lord completed his inspection and reported back to the Nareth.
"Father, I have confirmed it: the Gellar Field and Jokaero Force Field can coexist."
"The Jokaero Force Field is a special barrier of energy. It cannot resist physical attacks, but it does repel the erosion of the Warp."
"Its power consumption is modest, but constant while active. I believe we should develop a mechanism to switch it on and off at need."
Nareth nodded. Keeping it active constantly would be wasteful, especially since he could control only two Jokaero to replenish it. Conservation was vital.
"Lead the techmarines. Develop a control system for the Force Field."
"By you will."
Nareth deployed one Jokaero to the Fourth Chapter's flagship, then summoned another, recently bound through the Kingdom of Disorder, to begin constructing Jokaero Force Fields there.
Returning to the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty, the Primarch resolved to launch a new offensive. He addressed Arsena:
"Begin the next campaign. The Second, Eighth, and Ninth Chapters will strike at the Eighth Planet. The Fourth and Eleventh Chapters will assault the Fourth Planet."
"The Fifth will relieve the Ninth, garrisoning the Attack Moon. The Third returns to Mordian to recuperate. Dispatch half the strength of the First, Sixth, Tenth, and Twelfth Chapters here, to the Wheel of Fire."
The Eleventh Legion's eight chapters had already bled against the orks, gaining hard-won experience. Now it was time for the other four to be tempered as well.
After arranging legion matters, Nareth and his Honour Guard descended to the Fourth Planet.
Two lunar cycles later, he received word: the Primarch of the Second Legion had concluded the grand ceremonies on Terra and had arrived at the Wheel of Fire.
Nareth returned to the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty to receive him.
At the obsidian dining table sat Hannibal. Across from Nareth, he wore no armour, only a tailored brown suit like some Vostroyan noble.
Golden hair neatly combed to one side, lips curved in a sculpted smile, yet predatory light lurked in his eyes.
Nareth turned to his own meal: coral-red claws of steamed spider crabs.
As the chef cracked the shell, a briny-sweet fragrance rose.
The Primarch tasted the ivory flesh; it slipped down his throat, tender sweetness lingering.
Salt-and-pepper mantis shrimp, fried till their shells bloomed into lacework, crisp, brittle, red-tinged. The chef peeled one open, and Nareth savoured the sweet meat, where umami clashed with the sting of peppered salt.
Enjoying the fruits of the Symphony of the Sea, Nareth's gaze returned to Hannibal.
The Second Primarch elegantly lifted a rib steak of iron-scaled kraken with his fork.
Charcoal flames kissed the bone-in cut; fat burst into golden sparks. Myoglobin dripped as amber juices along marbled striations.
Snowflake fat melted into liquid gold, crisp crust sheathing tender fibers, each bite succulent.
"Delicious!" Hannibal declared, smiling broadly. His voice rang in perfectly modulated High Gothic.
"I've eaten finer cuts still. One day, I shall host you to taste them."
That smile was charming, aristocratic, too polished. Only Terran nobles spoke High Gothic so flawlessly.
Yet something about him was… off.
'What kind of "cuts" does he mean? Is it truly fit for men to eat?'
Nareth narrowed his eyes slightly, his glance sliding left, toward Suárez and Erlang.
Their cheekbones jutted more grotesquely, brows and skull plates thickened, muscles at the temples calcified.
His gaze shifted right, toward Mades, unaltered, still a mere mortal. His pupils shone gray, neck and wrists mottled with ashen blotches.
'Suárez and Erlang have clearly been feeding on xenos flesh. And Mades… Emperor knows what he consumed to be marked so visibly.'
A trace of nausea coiled in Nareth's gut. He abandoned the kraken steaks, returning to the clean taste of sea-cradle shellfish.
Hannibal and his sons ignored all else, devouring only kraken meat.
Afterwards, Hannibal dabbed his lips with a white handkerchief, folding it neatly, creases unchanged.
He fixed Nareth with shining eyes:
"Nareth, my brother. Father and Malcador sent me to you, to learn, to grasp the secrets of war. When do we begin?"
Leaning back, the Eleventh Primarch studied him.
'That feigned urgency, what does it mask?'
He recalled the Wolf King's hunting grin. Similar… yet different.
Less wild. More hungry.
His eyes hardened. He probed:
"Hannibal… you seem impatient."
The Second Primarch rose. "Indeed. I have long heard of the greenskins. I would see them myself, at once."
Suárez, Erlang, and Mades stood too, green light flickering in their eyes.
Nareth stood as well.
"Then let us depart."
In the Primarch's palace, while attendants fastened his warplate, Nareth asked Joffre:
"These faceless ones you've traveled beside, have you noticed anything amiss?"
Joffre hesitated. "Father…"
Meeting his sire's gaze, he continued:
"I cannot be sure. But I believe… the Faceless have done something with the ork corpses."
"After battles, they are always strangely eager, always seeking conversation with me, or others, at those times."
He paused, then confessed:
"I have tried to uncover their secret, but no chance yet presented itself."
"I understand." Nareth nodded. "You have fulfilled your duty."
Moments later, he handed Joffre a vial of Arbiter's potion, instructing him in the path of the Beyonder, before striding for the embarkation deck.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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