On the bridge of the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty, Nareth scanned the flood of information flowing across the vid-screens.
The Auger Arrays revealed that the Wheel of Fire's primary world bore two continents.
The southern landmass was smaller, surrounded by ocean; the northern one was nearly five times its size.
The comm-bead in Arsena's ear chimed. He pressed it and listened to the report, frowning.
The Primarch's equerry raised his control staff, bringing up a hololithic projection, and reported to his lord:
"My lord, we have received a transmission from Lord Leman Russ. He has chosen to make planetfall on the western coast of the northern continent. He did not await your reply; he has already ordered his fleet to begin orbital bombardment to prepare the landing zone."
Nareth gave a faint nod. He was not surprised; the Wolves did not enjoy waiting.
He turned, his gaze sweeping Hannibal at his side, and Suarez and Erlang standing just behind. His perception, sharp as a blade, noticed their abdomens had grown fuller.
No ordinary mortal would ever detect such subtle changes, but in comparing them now to how they had appeared a year earlier, Nareth discerned it at once.
"Hannibal, the cleansing of the southern continent shall fall to the Second Legion. What say you?"
Were it Russ, or any other prideful Primarch, they might have bristled at being assigned the smaller warzone.
But Hannibal merely smiled, graceful and faintly pleased.
"No objection, Brother."
With that, Hannibal swiftly departed with Suarez and Erlang, hurrying back to his flagship to begin the hunt.
Nareth then turned to the commander of the Legio Astraman.
"Alexis, how many Titans does your Legion field?"
Alexis wore a crimson uniform coat studded with dark green rivets. Upon his epaulette was adorned the sigil of Graia, denoting his senior command.
He bowed slightly, right hand pressed to his chest.
"Lord Nareth, the Legio Astraman currently fields one hundred and four engines of war."
Nareth's eyes flickered. That was far fewer than the one hundred and fifty-six he recalled of the Legion at its height.
He knew most Titan Legions could muster only a few dozen engines at best. Only front-line Legios like Atraman could bring more than a hundred into the field.
Among those he remembered, the Legio Vulcanum of Stygies VIII had once exceeded three hundred Titans, a number so vast it alarmed even the Mechanicum itself. Under Horus' urging, that Legion was later broken apart into the Dark Fire and the Lord of Ruins.
The Legio Mortis had numbered close to two hundred before the Heresy.
Legio Astraman had reached one hundred and fifty-six engines before the Great Crusade's height, Nareth recalled.
He glanced at the Forge Lord Rosicky, who gave the faintest nod, confirming the figure.
Nareth's memories of Graia's history filled his mind: Mechanicum colonists had established the Forge World, and over centuries expanded their dominion to more than twenty star systems during the Age of Strife.
From this vast resource base, Graia had forged a mighty Titan Legion and fortified its orbit with impregnable defenses.
When the Emperor rewarded them with further rights of conquest, Graia had not yet formed the Belt of Iron of Forge Worlds, Nareth remembered, nor had they yet encountered the infamous Legio Krytos.
A gain and a loss, both, the current number of 104 Titans aligned with his calculations.
Alexis continued:
"By the treaty, thirty-five of these engines shall fight alongside the Eleventh Legion. Seventeen Warlords, nine Reavers, and nine Warhounds."
Nareth nodded with satisfaction. 'The Graians had not attempted to fill their quota with Warhounds alone. This matched the standard distribution of the Legio Astraman.'
'Though truthfully, they've not dispatched a full third of their strength. I recall Graia holding at least three Emperor-class Titans of the Imperator-class. But such engines rarely stir for anything less than a crusade of apocalypse. Still… this proves Graia is a trustworthy ally.'
Nareth replied, "I am satisfied."
He pointed to the hololith, tapping lightly at the projection.
"The eastern coast of the northern continent holds twelve fortress-complexes. This one, marked T, is the strongest. The Eighth Chapter and Graia's forces shall take it together."
Alexis did not answer immediately. He studied the feed, every cannon emplacement and wall length noted and measured by the implants within his skull.
After eighteen seconds, he spoke with certainty:
"Lord Nareth, the Omnissiah's engines and the Skitsrii shall suffice to breach this fortress."
Nareth smiled faintly.
'Typical of the Graians, they observe carefully, judge rationally, and once their logic confirms a path, they never waver. Even unto death, they will not turn aside.'
"I trust your assessment, Alexis. But remember, the Wheel of Fire is only our beginning. Greater wars await us, where unity will matter more than numbers."
"Understood, my lord," Alexis replied firmly. "I shall fight beside the Knight-Lord and purge this xenos stronghold."
By Nareth's decree, Thierry Vieira was invested with the title of Knight Lord, joining the Dawn Knights of Sequence Six and the Silver Knights of Sequence Three in name and honor.
Nareth gave orders to the other nine Chapters as well. All but the Third and Seventh would commit forces to the Wheel of Fire's final battle.
Alexis, while Nareth spoke, already sorted tactical data through his implants. On his way to the landing bays, he transmitted orders to the Koje, instructing his Moderatis to prepare for descent.
Once aboard the Koje, he went straight to the Titan hangars. Crew, ground teams, and deck workers were already in frantic motion.
Massive cranes groaned as they lowered colossal shells and missiles into racks. Munition haulers laden with Vortex Warheads roared past. Gunners calibrated weapon systems with precision and haste.
Adjusting his brass-buttoned coat, Alexis approached the towering foot of the Warlord Titan Lagos.
Crew saluted as he passed; he acknowledged them with a curt nod, climbing the armored stairs into the colossus' leg.
He strode swiftly through narrow iron halls he knew as intimately as his own flesh. Every bolt, every rivet was etched in memory. He could have found his way blind.
At the guarded portal, two Graian soldiers in crimson breastplates and green mail stood watch, skull-faced masks over their visors, shock-pistols and batons at their sides.
"Moderati to mid-deck," Alexis intoned.
The scanner accepted his palm print. A green rune glowed; the door was opened.
He climbed the steel-mesh stairs to the command deck, sliding his authorization card into the reader.
Chimes rang as he entered the lofty command sanctum.
"Command bridge, Princeps Alexis present."
The floor rippled like quicksilver, raising him upward until he reached the throne of command.
Seated, he ordered:
"MagI Domini, link me to the manifold."
Two red-robed tech-priest affixed signal-conductive gauntlets to his hands. Electrodes pressed to his skin, reading his vitals. A cranial circlet descended, preparing the cortical interface.
"Ignition sequence, activate the cortex interface."
Fine silver filaments extended from the circlet, burrowing alongside his optic nerves and latching to his cortex.
At once, a torrent of data surged into his mind: weapon status, plasma reactor reserves, telemetry streams.
Alexis felt the might of Lagos stir within him, his consciousness fusing with the Titan's machine spirit.
A vision of Nareth's towering form flashed through his mind. Alexis whispered to himself:
"To wear the mantle of kingship… it is glorious."
Alexis immediately issued an order: "Prepare for drop assault."
As the Legio Astraman readied, the battleships of the three Space Marine Legions commenced orbital fire.
Lances and shells rained down upon the Ork world below.
When the bombardment ceased, the three Primarchs descended together onto the Wheel of Fire's surface.
The Space Wolves landed on the northern continent's western coast. Leman Russ charged from his Stormbird, Freki and Geri bounding at his side, Enoch and Jorin following close behind.
The Wolf King's eyes blazed with blue fire as he surged forward, outpacing his sons.
Jorin swung his power axe in fury, venting frustration upon the greenskins. Enoch, chainaxe roaring, drowned his shame in their blood.
Above them, the Koje discharged the Titan drop-pods.
Heat-shielding flared white-hot as retro-thrusters fought the planet's pull. Inertial dampeners groaned under strain.
Hatches burst open. Yellow-green armored Titans strode forth in ranks, their screens glowing blue-green in the shadows of war.
Within his Warlord Lagos, Alexis saw the manifold flare alive, the plasma reactor's power was his own heartbeat, the weapons his will.
"Stabilizers green. Weapons loaded. Reactors primed."
And before him surged the green tide of the orks, every monstrous form illuminated by Lagos' auspex arrays.
.....
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