Terra, the Imperial Palace.
Nareth's projection descended through the void amid the chants of the Astropaths.
When he took his seat, he scanned the War Council chamber; its arrangement had changed somewhat since the last meeting.
To Malcador's right sat Horus Lupercal and Ferrus Manus as usual, but next to them was now Rogal Dorn.
Hannibal was seated beside Dorn. Fulgrim, whose Legion was still recovering and had been following Horus' campaigns, sat at the far end.
Nareth's own seat remained beside Leman Russ. Roboute Guilliman had risen in prominence and now sat opposite Dorn, with Vulkan at his side.
'No surprise there, Dorn and Guilliman's rate of planetary conquest has overtaken the others. Hm, next time I probably won't have this wolf at my side glaring at me.'
"Nareth, how many of your sorcerous brats are still breathing after that last war?" Russ said gruffly.
"More than your mangy wolf cubs," Nareth replied coldly without looking at him.
Horus was about to speak to ease the tension when Hannibal interjected first.
"Nareth, my brother, thank you for the salamander meat you sent, tender and juicy, unforgettable."
To improve his chances of recovering remnants of the Second Legion in the future, Nareth had gifted Hannibal and his sons some of the dissected salamander meat.
'Hannibal brings this up now… is he hinting that I should also send him some captured Xenos from Rangdan for his Faceless to feast on?' Nareth wondered.
Before he could think further, Russ, winner of many a "gluttony contest", barked in amusement.
"Hannibal, if you like eating so much, let's see who can eat more!"
"I'm not interested in a contest," Hannibal replied smoothly, still smiling. "I enjoy food, I don't devour it like a beast."
"Then I'll challenge you, Russ," Horus said, keeping up his big-brother image and trying to lighten the room.
But Nareth, attuned to emotion, could sense the hidden irritation in Horus, and the quiet dislike most others held for Russ.
Only Guilliman, he noted, respected the Wolf King, though the two could never truly connect.
'The Emperor really did choose right when he made Horus the 'eldest brother.' He's genuinely trying to keep us united. But even he and Russ aren't truly close, it's all surface-level harmony.'
'Then again, that's enough for the Emperor. His words and plans show it clearly; he encourages rivalry among us to hasten the Great Crusade.'
As Nareth pondered, the great doors opened. The Fabricator-General of Mars strode in, perfectly on time, stepping into the Golden Hall at the twelfth second of the final minute.
Finally came the Emperor himself, accompanied by Constantin Valdor. The Primarchs rose and saluted before the council began.
The Emperor seated himself and turned to Nareth.
"How goes the campaign in Advex-Mors?"
"My Lord," Nareth began, "the xenos of Advex-Mors have been purged completely."
The Emperor's golden eyes softened into a smile. "You never disappoint me, Nareth. Tell us, I think everyone is curious."
Nareth looked around the room. Horus, Manus, Guilliman, and Hannibal were all visibly intrigued. Russ leaned back, uninterested.
"In this campaign, over seventy thousand Shadow of Order Astartes took part, drawn from the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Eighth, and Eleventh Chapters, plus two companies from the First."
He spoke vaguely, omitting specifics.
Ferrus Manus and Guilliman both began calculating based on their intelligence about the Eleventh Legion.
'If each of his chapters exceeds ten thousand, and the Eleventh alone fields over twenty thousand from Vostroya… that means his Legion must have had at least one hundred thirty to one hundred forty thousand before the campaign.'
Guilliman's conclusion left him uneasy; his own Legion still seemed far too small.
The 13th Legion had suffered devastating losses during the Osiris Rebellion. Even with Nareth's timely aid, only twenty thousand remained.
Among Guilliman's own followers, thirty thousand had successfully undergone gene-augmentation.
Those of Terran origin, whose culture clashed with Ultramar's disciplined ideals, he had reassigned to the 22nd Battle Regiment, a specialized extermination force.
Including them, he commanded only 53,800 warriors, less than half the Eleventh Legion's strength.
Though it had taken only three years to rebuild to this level, placing him just behind the four earliest-returned brothers, the 11th, 16th, 10th, and 6th, Guilliman still found it insufficient.
'I must accelerate. Conquer more worlds. Train more warriors.'
That thought led him to Talassar.
Of the twelve systems and twenty-six worlds he had conquered in his first expansion, Talassar had the best combination of population, industry, and resources, a perfect strategic hub. Yet he had lost it, and nothing since had matched it.
While Guilliman pondered, Nareth was already concluding his report.
"This war cost over five thousand of my sons."
"Although Advex-Mors has been cleansed, interrogation suggests its xenos were only part of a greater force."
The Emperor's golden eyes gleamed, silent.
After a pause, Nareth continued.
"A new xeno power has arisen in the Galactic North."
"The Rogue Trader, Lewis von Valentius, discovered a malevolent conglomerate of aliens in the Galactic Northeast, the Mitu."
"...…"
He presented his prepared data to the council.
The Sigillite frowned. "The Imperium must annihilate this cruel species completely and bring light to the billions enslaved by them."
"The Eleventh Legion has already taken heavy losses; they should not bear another grand campaign," Dorn stated bluntly. "My Legion will strike the xenos."
Nareth didn't mind Dorn's direct tone.
Before he could reply, Horus said, "The First Legion seeks an opportunity to prove itself."
The Emperor turned to his Pegasus.
"Nareth," he said, "you used only six chapters and two companies of the first in Advex-Mors. You still have strength for another campaign."
Nareth immediately understood, the Emperor wanted him to handle the Mitu, which suited him perfectly.
'The Mitu's arcane biotech, the mineral wealth of the Coronid Deeps, the loyalty of the Knight House Vyronii, all valuable gains. And there's the Forge World Mezoa, Baroda's House Makabius....'
"My Lord, my Legion can purge the Mitu xenos. But I also wish to give Urian Vendraig of the First Legion the chance to prove his worth as a true Legion Master."
He could freely command the XIV Legion; adding the First's 70,000 would spare him from deploying his entire force.
"Vendraig will be pleased to hear that," the Emperor said. "The First Legion shall follow your command and bring punishment upon the Mitu."
Decision made. Nareth glanced at Dorn, still expressionless.
"As you command."
"The rest of you may leave. Nareth, stay."
Nareth lingered, uncertain of what the Emperor wanted.
"Your Legion will need time to assemble," the Emperor said at last. "Before you depart, come with me, and we will bring back your brother."
"The Fifteenth Legion will serve under your command for now, but they are in peril. It is time their father returned."
Nareth understood. The Emperor meant Magnus. He had long known the Fifteenth's location on Prospero.
Among all the Primarchs, Magnus was unique, the most gifted psyker, in constant communion with the Emperor.
If Horus was the one the Emperor kept closest, and Alpharius the one he kept longest, then Magnus was the one he spoke to the most.
Why hadn't the Emperor brought him back earlier? Perhaps because of warp storms, or perhaps deliberate timing.
When he had learned of Guilliman at Espandor, the Emperor's fleet had been blown off course by a sudden warp storm.
Or maybe… he'd simply been waiting for the right moment.
'Hmm. Going with the Emperor to Prospero isn't bad. I can exchange knowledge of psychic arts and his mental arts, and perhaps collect some 'Mentor of Disorder' material… like Psychneuein.'
"As you wish, my Lord."
.....
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