The triumphal ceremony overlapped with the welcome celebration for the returning Primarch, bringing Terra a grand parade.
Five hours before the festivities began, colorful ribbons streaked across the skies of Terra, sweeping swiftly over every region.
At the center flew the Stormbirds, flanked by wings of fighters and bombers.
With special fuel prepared by Malcador for the sake of majesty, their afterburners sprayed radiant colors, piercing the gloomy cloud cover.
As the aircraft roared overhead, every Terran citizen could feel the might of the Imperium.
Countless citizens gathered beneath the massive holo-screens erected in every hive, gazing upward.
As the runes of transmission flared, the giant projections came alive.
The Emperor of Mankind, clad in golden armor, filled every screen.
The people craned their necks, eyes wide, looking upon their Lord.
In the hive of Iphigenes, golden light shone in their eyes.
One man crossed his arms over his chest in the Aquila salute.
Inspired, those around him followed one by one.
"Emperor!"
"Master of Mankind!"
The cheers of Terra rose across every hive.
The same scene played out on the steel-built reviewing platforms, where nobles, Imperial officials, and merchant representatives all praised the Emperor in unison.
Raising his arm amid the cheers, the Emperor pressed downward with one hand.
The shouts fell silent. He spoke.
"Today, I will introduce you to one of my sons. He is the fifth Primarch to return to the Imperium, the lord of the Tenth Legion, the master of the Iron Hands…Ferrus Manus!"
Manus stepped to the Emperor's side, his black armor and silver hands displayed across every towering screen.
"Ferrus Manus!"
The crowd erupted, roaring: "Son of the Emperor!"
"Lord Ferrus Manus!"
Smiling, the Emperor addressed him: "My son, I expect you to lead the Tenth Legion to war across the galaxy, purging xenos, reclaiming lost human colonies."
Feeling the passion of the people, Manus' stern features could not hide his emotion.
Crossing his arms, he saluted the Aquila. His voice, heavy as lead, thundered louder than the crowd.
"Father, by these hands I swear, I shall carry out your will, lead the Iron Hands, and crush all who threaten mankind!"
With confident steps, Manus walked toward his personal banner and throne.
"Commence the parade!"
The Shadows of Order was the first to march upon the 500-meter-long, 5-kilometer-wide parade avenue, greeted by the crowd's cheers.
No other companies of their Legion had come to the Sol System, so the parade consisted of 3,010 Honor Guard.
Each was among the finest from the Wheel of Fire campaign; even the least had slain over a hundred greenskins.
Everyone bore at least two medals, and one hundred and thirty of them wore Iron Halos awarded personally by their Primarch.
These honors marked extraordinary initiative and battlefield impact.
Cameras captured their stride, transmitting runes and signals to the great vox-arrays.
Tech-Priest Magi oversaw the systems, distributing the images across every hive.
Next came the Space Wolves, led by Jorin the Wolf Lord and Enoch in dark gray armor.
From his platform above, Nareth saw the fire of resentment in their eyes, their hunger to be the first to claim the hunt.
The third to march were the Faceless, in amber armor, led by Suarez, Erlang, and Maides.
They had joined late in the Wheel of Fire campaign and held no bitterness for being ranked last in parade order.
Three Legions stood arrayed beneath the platform.
The people roared; the Astartes were the Emperor's sword in the Great Crusade, reclaiming countless colonies.
Malcador's propaganda had made them well aware: the Eleventh, Sixth, and Second Legions had fought to the death in the Wheel of Fire system, purging vile xenos.
They saw the Shadow of Order in black armor at the center, not because they were fewest, but because they had won the greatest glory.
Their Primarch, Nareth, had personally slain a mighty rOk warlord.
To the right stood the Wolves in gray, who bore the heaviest losses but still ranked second in victory.
To the left, the Faceless in amber, the newest to rejoin, their lord Hannibal.
"Shadows of Order!"
"Space Wolves!"
"Faceless!"
In the hive of Iphigenes, a calloused factory worker turned to his sons:
"The next recruitment is near. You must strive to join the Shadows of Order and fight for the Emperor."
"Or the Luna Wolves," he added.
His sharp, quick-witted younger son asked: "Why not the Space Wolves or the Faceless?"
"Because Lord Horus and Lord Nareth were the first to return. More than that, their Legions, the Luna Wolves and Shadows of Order, have the greatest battle honors."
Nearby, a female factory worker cried out proudly:
"My son is among the new candidates. Before he left for Luna, he came home to say farewell.
He told me: The top twenty recruits go only to the Luna Wolves and Shadow of Order."
"In the past, the top fifteen went to the Luna Wolves. Only after Lord Nareth returned did places sixteen through thirty go to the Shadow of Order."
"Now, the very top is split between them, first is a Luna Wolves candidate, second a Shadows of Order, third another Shadows of Order…"
With pride she declared: "The best of all recruits are divided between those two Legions. My son Ethan ranked second."
"He will join the Shadow of Order, to serve the Emperor and follow Lord Nareth!"
The worker father marveled: "That is truly remarkable!"
His eyes went wide with envy as he looked at her.
As they spoke, the ground trembled, the Titans of the Mechanicum advanced.
From above, Nareth saw they were not painted in the Legio Astraman's green, but in Mars' red.
He understood they were ceremonial here, part of Malcador's plan to display Imperial might, uplifting morale and driving Terrans to serve with greater zeal.
The Custodian marched beneath their massive forms like ants beneath giants' feet.
Once the Titans stood still, the Emperor's voice thundered again. The Pict-capturers were fixed upon the platform.
"To conclude this celebration, I shall honor the three Primarchs who earned the greatest glory in the Wheel of Fire campaign."
"My sons, step forward."
Nareth, Russ, and Hannibal left their banners. Under the envious gaze of Manus, they took their place behind the Emperor.
Nareth stood in the center, Russ on the right, Hannibal on the left.
The Emperor turned, catching the gleam in Manus' eyes, ambition, the fire of yearning for glory.
Satisfied, he returned his gaze to the three before him.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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