Chapter 33: This Ordo is Pretty Hardcore
"So, what's the Ordo Originatus?" Arthur and Ramesses exchanged glances.
"No idea." Ramesses looked at Karna.
Karna looked back, completely blank. "I only know Malleus, Hereticus, and Xenos." The three great Ordos, responsible for dealing with daemons, heretics, and xenos, respectively.
"Actually, this Ordo is pretty formidable," Romulus suddenly interjected into their private four-way link, even as he was conversing with Aglaia. "While not as mainstream as the big three, they definitely have some pull."
"Oh? Tell us more." They were all curious.
"Let's just say, their duty is to try and reconstruct the history of the Imperium, from its founding to the present day, much of which has passed into myth. They do this by reviewing archives, conducting field investigations, and even trading with Warp entities."
"And?"
"And—the mythological history of the Imperium is naturally tied to the various Primarchs. This, of course, includes the history of each Primarch's homeworld." Romulus then emphasized, "Including the homeworld of Primarch Lion El'Jonson, Caliban."
"Oh."
The three of them understood immediately. They all turned to look at Aglaia, who was still alive and standing before them, with expressions of sheer, unadulterated shock.
She's actually a living person?
How rare.
The very fact that the Ordo Originatus still existed was, to the transmigrators, a miracle in itself.
"?"
Aglaia, who was still trying to probe the Kill-team leader's personality, frowned. She didn't understand the way these colossal warriors were looking at her. The astonishment in their eyes was like they were looking at a terminally ill patient who was still inexplicably jumping around.
Aglaia considered herself to be in good health. Her stable mastery of biomancy had granted her an unusually long lifespan. Even with her innate precognitive abilities, she never delved into forbidden daemonic lore, content to collect the histories of various planets with her fleet and macrocannons. Aglaia sincerely believed she would live much longer than her mentor, who was gradually descending into madness.
Or have these Deathwatch warriors seen something about me?
Don't tell me my mentor really did place some kind of Warp curse on me?
The young Inquisitor quickly began to second-guess herself, but could find nothing wrong. A cold sweat started to form on her brow.
I knew it. I knew that old bastard was plotting something on Pierdra.
"Lord Romulus," Aglaia's tone became incredibly sincere and polite. "I wish for the Deathwatch to assist me in cleansing this Ark Mechanicus of the Drukhari, in the name of the Inquisition."
Hearing her reiterate her request to exterminate the Drukhari, Romulus instinctively sensed trouble. But before he could start probing for more information, the clanking of metal on chains echoed from the lift shaft. All eyes turned towards the sound.
Aglaia could only swallow her words of persuasion.
KA-CHUNK—
As the chains pulled taut, the rapidly descending lift came to a smooth stop in the vacant hangar bay. On the mechanical platform, a giant mechanical being unfolded its limbs. As it approached, the transmigrators finally understood why this Archmagos was classified as a "Behemoth" unit on the tabletop.
Compared to the cultured title of "Archmagos," the colossal figure before them was better described as a "Steel Behemoth."
"Is the armor okay?"
"Relax, it's all fine. Except for Ramesses, the coward, who's still in Tartaros armor, yours are all Cataphractii-pattern that I carefully cross-referenced. The paint job is flawless, too," Romulus reassured them.
"I can teleport, why would I wear Cataphractii?" Ramesses grumbled, justifying his non-conformity.
"As for the height, don't worry about it. While the Primaris's average height is rare among Firstborn Space Marines, it's not unheard of. Tyberos is even bigger than us; he had to modify a Dreadnought chassis just to wear Terminator armor."
The four of them watched the approaching Archmagos with curiosity, but to their surprise, Cawl didn't even look at them. He made a beeline for Tyberos.
"The cargo," he stated, the machinery covering his entire body vibrating in a strange harmony.
Tyberos nodded to his 3rd Company Captain, Akia, who then led several Carcharodons to drag a massive black container from their transport.
STAB!
The Archmagos plunged one of his mechadendrites directly into the container with brutal force.
Seeing the two parties enter into a transaction, the four transmigrators, feeling a strange mix of emotions at being ignored, resumed their unfinished conversation.
"Salutations, Canoness. I am Orlando, Marshal of this crusade fleet," the Black Templar said, preempting the Inquisitor. He struck a fist to his chest, saluting the Sisters.
"Salutations to you, Lord Marshal. I am Arabella," the Canoness immediately replied with the sign of the Aquila. "May the light of the Emperor shine upon us both."
Because of their shared, fervent belief in the Emperor as a divine being, the Black Templars and the Ecclesiarchy had always maintained a good relationship and were happy to fight alongside the Sisters of Battle.
After a brief greeting with the Sisters, Orlando turned his gaze to Romulus. He didn't recall the Deathwatch being so wealthy as to equip a small Kill-team in a remote sector with Cataphractii-pattern Terminator armor.
"I do not recall the commander of Watch Fortress Eternal Hunt being named Romulus," he stated bluntly, his tone less like a question and more like an accusation.
"They were annihilated by a Chaos ambush while purging Drukhari on the edge of the Pierdra Sector. Canoness Arabella can provide you with the full details," Romulus replied coolly. "Apothecary Syphrus Gage fought to the last, allowing us to recover a portion of their gene-seed."
"There were no Black Templars among them."
"Will you still be fulfilling the mission to provide aid to Pierdra?" Marshal Orlando skillfully changed the subject.
"Of course." They had come all this way; they were naturally going to see it through. Otherwise, the people who had died on their ship would have died for nothing.
"We can travel together," Orlando nodded, the candlelight on his armor flickering with the movement. "Are the Carcharodons loyal to the Imperium?"
"Naturally."
"Can you persuade the Carcharodon Chapter to participate in this operation?" the Marshal asked with stern invitation.
Are all the sons of Dorn like this? Romulus marveled at Orlando's lack of social grace, then marveled again that such a person still knew to avoid the topic of gene-seed. And if you want me to pick a fight with Tyberos, just say so. Asking a nominal Deathwatch Kill-team leader to persuade a Chapter Master in front of everyone... even if the Chapter Master wanted to go, he couldn't now without losing face.
"You can extend the invitation to the Carcharodons yourself," he replied diplomatically.
"Very well." Orlando nodded seriously.
Stereotypes confirmed, yet again.