The Gathering of Steel
Location: Chapel Sanctum – Battle Barge Emperor's Grasp, Warp Transit Hold Position*
Time: T-minus 6 hours to fleet warp translation
The air was heavy with incense and the solemn weight of duty. The great chapel within the Emperor's Grasp was lit by flickering candelabras and glowing purity runes etched into the adamantine walls. Statues of Primarch Dorn, the Emperor, and fallen Iron Wrath heroes loomed silently around the chamber like watchers from another age.
Catalin the 2nd knelt before the altar, his armored frame wrapped in the dim orange glow of the stained-glass shrine. His hands rested on the hilt of his chainsword, blade down, resting in silence. The plasma repeater lay beside him, locked but humming faintly with restrained fury.
> "Warhammer… of all the fictions, it had to be Warhammer…"
"No. This is real. The blood, the fire, the hate — this is the truth now."
He kept his thoughts locked within — a memory surfacing like oil in water. Graia. It stirred again. Not just a planet. Not just a warzone. A key to something buried deep.
---
Location: Strategium Dome – Gloriana-Class Cruiser Iron Gale*
The chamber was a vast sphere of hololithic firelight, layered with displays, realspace charts, and warp-path calculations. Dozens of senior commanders stood at attention — Captains of each ship, Tech-Priests, Chapter officers, and fleet serfs recording every word.
At the center, Librarian Alexander stood tall in his psychic hood, his armor robed in deep crimson cloth, purity seals fluttering like parchment wings. His eyes burned blue with the quiet fire of foresight.
> "You will all form on the Emperor's Grasp. Maintain a full spread formation. No ship is to break warp entry parameters. We jump together, or not at all."
He paused, voice low but cutting.
> "Space Marines of the Iron Wrath will be distributed across all major ships. Each Gloriana vessel will host at least one full strike unit. In case of... incursion."
A silence followed — not fear, but understanding. Everyone in the room had seen warp incursions before.
From the far side, a voice — dry, precise, and tinged with metallic resonance — spoke.
Captain Xinoxis of the Iron Gale, master of warp routes and deep-space strategy:
> "If we are not displaced during translation, we should reach the outer edges of the Graia system in approximately two Terran days. Exit will be calculated to place us one day from the orbital plane."
He shifted, looking at the Librarian.
> "Once within-system, it will take another two and a half days to reach Graia proper — assuming no interference."
Another Tech-Officer stepped forward — red-robed, data-slates clicking in both hands.
> "We have received astropathic transmission fragments… distress signals. Graia's orbital defense fleet has been breached."
Gasps among the serfs. Even some captains tensed.
Alexander's gaze hardened. "Details?"
> "Several ships destroyed. One captured. Orks have taken an Imperial cruiser, likely using it as a command node. Remaining loyalist vessels have pulled back to hard orbit around the forge moon. The situation is deteriorating."
Another voice cut in — this one deep, cold, and iron-etched with authority:
Inquisitor Drago, recently assigned to the Graia reclamation:
> "The Orks' momentum is escalating. They are consolidating force, not dispersing. That suggests leadership. Possibly a Warboss, or worse… a Mekmind."
"The Fabricator-General of Graia has issued an emergency recall of all Mechanicus and Guard assets. He holds out in a fortress-citadel… for now."
A new marker appeared on the holomap — a pulsing red rune over Graia's equator.
> "This is where we hit first," Alexander said. "We will burn through their orbital nest, destroy the looted cruiser, and clear the landing path. The Voidhammer leads the charge."