Nareth issued an order to Arsena.
"Deploy the 6th, 10th, and 11th Chapters to assemble at Lucius."
"The 1st and 12th Chapters will leave garrison detachments behind and then join the gathering as well."
The First Rangdan War involved the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 8th, and 11th Chapters, plus two companies from the 1st Chapter. Originally, Nareth had intended for the remaining six Chapters to serve as the main combat force.
But he reconsidered, the 7th Chapter was still tasked with purging the Incaladion region,
and the 9th Chapter was engaged in capturing the Saharduin territories around Talassar.
He didn't want to interrupt their campaigns.
Thus, he decided to make the 6th and 10th Chapters his primary assault forces.
The 1st and 12th would contribute partial strength while maintaining their posts at Osiris and Tanis.
The 11th Chapter, with Vostroya as its recruitment world, had abundant manpower, enough to sustain prolonged fighting.
The Mitu were formidable foes; Nareth estimated the campaign would drag on for quite some time, and only then would he rotate in additional Chapters.
"After consultation with the War Council," he continued, "the 1st and 14th Chapters will join this campaign as well. Have them assemble at Lucius."
"When I attended the War Council, the Emperor told me to recover the Primarch of the 15th Chapter."
"Order the 28th Expedition Fleet to await me in the Sol System. I'll travel there myself."
"As you command, my lord," his aide recorded.
Mars, 840.M30, 8th month
Within the Mechanicum's sanctum, the voice of a tech-savant echoed through a vocoder:
["Asset: Glory Queen-class battleship.// Length: 25.01 kilometers.// Mass: 143.96 megatons.]
[According to the Treaty of Obligation// Mars may now transfer ownership to the Primarch Nareth.// Confirm acceptance?"]
"Accepted," Nareth said with a nod. Then, turning to Bukayo Arshavin, he commanded:
"My Dark Lord, go and receive your ship."
He watched Bukayo's departing figure, thinking quietly.
'My Chapter now has four Gloriana-class battleships, more than even the First Chapter. We hold the most in the Imperium.'
After a brief reflection, Nareth boarded his Stormbird, not back to his flagship Throne of Shadow's Soverignity, but toward the flagship of the 28th Expedition Fleet.
An hour later, he met Azhek Ahriman.
The Thousand Son stood before him in crimson armor, doing his best to maintain composure.
"My lord Nareth," Ahriman greeted him.
Nareth instantly noticed the frailty beneath the surface.
For a transhuman warrior, weakness was alien, especially for one of Ahriman's strength.
But he was weakened. His skin had lost its luster, like a wanderer scorched by countless suns in an endless desert.
Something, some psychic force, was festering inside him, suppressed but simmering.
It hadn't yet warped his flesh, but Nareth could sense it; if unleashed, it would devour him utterly.
His will was faltering; even standing before Nareth, he lowered his gaze as if wanting to shut his eyes in shame.
Ahriman's emotions were a roiling storm of colors, fear, sorrow, pain, guilt…
Nareth knew well that Ahriman blamed himself for the forced isolation of his twin brother, Ohrmuzd.
He was also haunted by the horrific sight of his brothers transforming during the Flesh-change.
That nightmare would stalk him all his life, shaping every decision to come.
It was that torment that would one day drive him to cast the Rubric of Ahriman,
sealing every Thousand Son's soul within his armor to end the flesh-change forever.
"The Emperor has confirmed the world where your gene-father resides," Nareth told him. "I will travel with you to recover him."
"I'll do what I can to help you along the way."
"Thank you, my lord," Ahriman replied, a spark of hope flickering across his worn face.
He knew that since Fulgrim's return, the Emperor's children had averted their destruction.
But he wondered, 'How many of us will survive by the time our father returns?'
Gathering his thoughts, he continued carefully.
"My lord, my Legion… we've contracted a strange and contagious sickness."
"I fear even our Apothecaries are powerless against it."
The Apothecaries of the 15th Legion had tried everything, but nothing could halt the transformations.
Ahriman doubted that the Shadows of Order's Apothecaries could do any better.
He avoided naming it the Flesh-change; he still held hope that it could someday be cured,
and he didn't want this secret known to the other Chapters.
Struggling to steady his mind, he explained further:
"When the disease breaks out, it affects those nearby."
"I've ordered all Chapteraries confined separately. If anyone shows symptoms, they're transferred to the medical deck."
"The Apothecaries place them into crystal sarcophagi surrounded by stasis fields.
Some recover, eventually."
Nareth nodded slightly, recalling Ahriman's future disciple, Sobek, one of the few most dear to him, besides Magnus and Ohrmuzd.
When Sobek succumbed to the flesh-change, Hathor Maat had temporarily cryo-frozen him,
then sealed him in a stasis crystal coffin.
After countless failures, the Thousand Sons had finally found a way to delay the inevitable.
"My Apothecaries will assist in finding a solution," Nareth promised.
He knew they wouldn't succeed, but he had other means of offering aid.
"The Shadows of Order have sharp senses. I'll have them patrol. If anyone shows signs, they'll be transferred immediately."
Nareth also knew the contagion only affected the Thousand Sons themselves.
When the Space Wolves and Thousand Sons once fought side by side near the Ark Reach Cluster, Hastur's transformation had affected the nearby Thousand Sons, but not the Wolves.
If the flesh-change truly stemmed from Tzeentch's meddling, its reach was limited.
Ahriman's eyes widened slightly; he hadn't expected Nareth to risk his own sons' safety for the Thousand Sons' sake.
He was deeply moved. The aid was critical; during transformation, a Thousand Son would become delirious and violent, too dangerous for mortal attendants to restrain.
Only another Thousand Son, usually a bio-specialist, could subdue the afflicted by force.
But even they risked contamination.
"Thank you, my lord," Ahriman said earnestly.
At Nareth's command, the Apothecaries and Honor Guard began their work.
The Shadows of Order Apothecaries descended the grand marble stairway to a vast hall leading into the central medicae chamber, a ring-shaped complex of crystal and steel, surrounded by twenty medical rooms.
As they entered, they noticed several sealed chambers, their glass opaque, psychic shielding fields isolating what lay within.
Human attendants trembled, trying to hide their fear.
On shining laboratory tables, instruments lay freshly cleaned, glistening with fluid residue.
A Thousand Sons Apothecary in white armor approached.
"Brothers of the Shadows of Order, welcome. Your aid is deeply appreciated."
Their numbers were few; many Apothecaries among the Thousand Sons had already fallen to the flesh-change.
He continued, following Ahriman's orders.
"This… infection is extremely dangerous. We're grateful for any help you can give."
"But you must not expose yourselves to risk."
If any patient shows rapid fever spikes, pallid skin, profuse sweating, or labored breathing, "
He listed a dozen early symptoms in rapid succession, "Report it immediately. We'll take over treatment from there."
The Shadow's Apothecaries nodded and began tending to their assigned patients under Thousand Sons' supervision.
Nine minutes later, one of them noticed something alarming in the data feed linked to a stasis sarcophagus.
The life-sign readings on the Narsehim Gauntlet were spiking.
42.9°C… 50.9°C…
Remembering the warning, he instantly opened a comm channel.
"Chamber Nine, subject's vitals critical!"
"I'm on my way!" came the urgent reply.
The Thousand Sons Apothecary sprinted to the room with the speed of a warrior charging into battle.
As soon as he entered, he pressed his palm to the inner wall.
Runes flared brighter across the surface.
"Brother of the Shadows of Order, leave now, this is my responsibility."
The Apothecary obeyed and exited, just as four Honor Guards arrived, restraining a slumped Astartes.
Soon, the Thousand Sons realized something vital: the Shadows of Order were immune to the flesh-change's psychic contagion.
Their presence greatly helped containment.
They could transport afflicted brothers to the medicae deck safely, reducing the risk of further spread.
When Ahriman and the other commanders received the report, they silently thanked Nareth.
But in the back of their minds, one dreadful thought lingered:
'Are we, too, like the ghouls, flawed in our very genes?'
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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