The Glorianna Class Voidship Fist of Iron, of the Iron Hands hung in low orbit over Medusa IV, its monolithic bulk a testament to the technological mastery of Ferrus Manus and his Legion. Within one of its cavernous strategy rooms, two towering figures stood hunched over a hololithic display, their superhuman minds processing vast amounts of information with ease.
Franklin Valorian, the Liberator, stood with his arms crossed, his imposing frame dwarfing even the substantial bulk of the hololith projector. Beside him, Ferrus Manus, the Gorgon, his metallic hands gleaming under the harsh light, manipulated the controls with surprising delicacy.
Franklin Valorian, took it upon himself to brief his newly-reunited brother on the intricacies of the Great Crusade.
Ferrus listened with stoic attention, his silver eyes gleaming with intelligence and barely-contained impatience. He was a man of action, more comfortable in the forge or on the battlefield than in lengthy discussions. Yet, he recognized the value of this knowledge and forced himself to pay heed.
"Ferrus," Franklin began, his tone uncharacteristically serious, "the Emperor may have left abruptly, but there's much you need to know about running a Legion in this Crusade."
Ferrus nodded curtly. "Speak plainly, brother. I have little patience for flowery words."
Franklin smirked, appreciating his brother's directness. "Very well. First, logistics. Your Legion needs to be self-sufficient across vast distances. Supply lines can make or break a campaign."
As Franklin spoke, Ferrus cross-referenced the information with the data slates he'd been given. His enhanced mind processed the information rapidly, noting discrepancies and similarities with cool efficiency.
"Conquest," Franklin continued, "isn't just about military victory. Sometimes, diplomacy—"
"Diplomacy?" Ferrus interrupted, his tone skeptical. "We are warriors, not politicians."
Franklin held up a hand. "Hear me out, brother. Sometimes, bringing a world into compliance through negotiation is more efficient than through force. It preserves resources and potential allies."
Ferrus grunted, unconvinced but willing to consider the idea. "Efficiency is... valuable. Continue."
As they delved deeper into Imperial governance, Ferrus noticed something that gave him pause. "Franklin," he said, interrupting again, "these administrative protocols are remarkably detailed. I wouldn't have expected such... meticulousness from you."
Franklin's face split into a wide grin. "Ah, you've found me out, brother. I may love a good fight, but I'm a stickler for proper documentation. An empire runs on information as much as it does on bolter rounds."
Ferrus nodded, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. This was something he could understand – the precision of a well-maintained machine, applied to governance.
"Now," Franklin said, his tone becoming more serious, "let's discuss something crucial: Imperial services. You have two options: the Independence Cluster or the Mechanicum of Mars."
Ferrus's interest was piqued. This was more his area of expertise. "What's the difference?"
Franklin's smirk returned. "Truthfully? The Cluster's services are superior in every way. Better quality, faster turnaround, more advanced tech."
Ferrus raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Better than the Mechanicum? That's a bold claim."
"Bold, but true," Franklin asserted. "However, there's a catch. The Cluster's services are currently limited to Segmentum Solar and Obscurus and Parts of Pacificus and Ultima with only one being in Tempestus as of the moment."
Ferrus frowned, his logical mind immediately seeing the problem. "Limited reach reduces their overall effectiveness, regardless of quality."
"Exactly," Franklin nodded. "Every time a new system is discovered, the Cluster and the Mechanicum fight for ownership. It's turned into a cold war of sorts."
Ferrus's frown deepened. "Inefficient. This infighting weakens the Imperium's expansion efforts."
Franklin shrugged. "The Emperor sees value in competition driving innovation. But it does create... complications. The conflict has even spread to the Rogue Traders."
"The independent captains?" Ferrus asked, his tone indicating he saw little use for such unreliable elements.
"The very same. They're in a unique position to profit from this rivalry, informing either side of new discoveries – for the right price."
The Gorgon's expression hardened. "That sounds... inefficient."
Franklin sighed, nodding in agreement. "It is. Rogue Traders often find themselves caught in the middle, selling information to the highest bidder. And if they try to play both sides..." He trailed off, his implication clear.
Ferrus was quiet for a moment, his mind working through the implications. "This is a significant flaw in our expansion strategy. It introduces unnecessary variables and risks."
Franklin nodded solemnly. "It does. But it's also driving rapid advancement in our technology and production capabilities."
Ferrus grunted, understanding the unspoken threat. "I see. And the Emperor allows this?"
"He sees it as a form of competition that drives innovation," Franklin explained, though his tone suggested he might not entirely agree. "For now, we work within the system we have."
The two Primarchs fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their responsibilities settling heavily upon their shoulders. After a moment, Ferrus spoke, his voice carrying a hint of respect that hadn't been there before.
"Thank you, brother. This information will prove invaluable."
Franklin smiled, clasping Ferrus on the shoulder. "That's what family is for, isn't it? We look out for each other."
Ferrus nodded, a rare smile gracing his usually stern features. "Indeed. Though I must admit, I didn't expect the Liberator to be so... thorough when it comes to paperwork."
Franklin's laughter boomed once more. "Oh, brother, you have no idea. Wait until you see the forms for requisitioning a new battleship in the Cluster. It's enough to make even a Primarch's head spin!"
As their laughter subsided, a sense of camaraderie settled between them. Two sons of the Emperor, each unique in their strengths, united in their purpose.
"Good luck out there, Ferrus," Franklin said, extending his hand. "The Great Crusade awaits."
Ferrus grasped his brother's hand firmly, the cold metal of his own a stark contrast to Franklin's warm flesh. "And to you, Franklin. May your aim be true and your paperwork impeccable."
-------------------------
The vast emptiness of space swallowed the last remnants of Ferrus Manus's battlefleet as it slipped into the swirling maelstrom of the Warp. Franklin Valorian stood motionless on the observation deck of his flagship, the "Sweet Liberty," his eyes fixed on the spot where his brother's ships had vanished. The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft hum of the ship's systems.
"Sovereign," Franklin's deep voice resonated through the empty chamber, "what news of your scans?"
The AI's response was instantaneous, its voice emanating from hidden speakers throughout the room. "Scan complete, Lord Valorian. I have conducted two thorough sweeps of Medusa IV using our most advanced nanomachine probes."
Franklin's eyebrow raised slightly. "And the results?"
"Inconclusive, my Lord," Sovereign replied, a hint of frustration in its artificial tone. "We detected traces of Necron technology, specifically a device that could have housed the construct known as Asirnoth. However, there is no evidence of a larger Necron presence or a dormant Tomb World."
The Primarch's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "So, the Great Wyrm that Ferrus defeated..."
"Most likely a scouting construct, Lord Valorian," Sovereign finished. "Perhaps sent to assess the planet's suitability for colonization or to gather intelligence on the developing human presence in the galaxy."
Franklin nodded slowly, his mind racing with the implications. The presence of even a single Necron construct on a human-inhabited world was troubling. If the Necrons were beginning to stir after millions of years of dormancy, the Imperium might face a threat unlike any it had encountered before.
As if sensing his thoughts, the ethereal presence of Khaine stirred within the Crone Sword at Franklin's hip. The Aeldari God of War's voice echoed in the Primarch's mind, tinged with a mixture of disappointment and anticipation.
"A pity," Khaine's voice resonated. "I had hoped for a true battle, a chance to once again face our ancient enemy. These Necrons were worthy foes, machines of living metal that even the might of the Aeldari struggled to overcome."
Franklin couldn't help but chuckle, the sound a low rumble in his chest. "Always eager for battle, aren't you, Khaine? Look on the bright side - at least we saved on ordinance. Necron Tomb Worlds aren't exactly known for being easy to subdue."
The god's presence flickered with what might have been amusement. "True enough, young Primarch. Though I wonder if you truly comprehend the devastation a fully awakened Tomb World can wreak."
"I've read the reports, studied the ancient texts," Franklin replied, his tone growing serious. "But you're right, I haven't faced them in battle as you have. Tell me, what should we be prepared for?"
Khaine's presence swelled, filling Franklin's mind with images of battles long past. The Primarch saw vast armies of metallic warriors, their weapons capable of reducing entire planets to ash. He witnessed titanic constructs that dwarfed even the largest Imperial war machines, and energy weapons that seemed to defy the laws of physics.
"They are relentless," Khaine's voice echoed through the visions. "Their bodies repair themselves, their minds are unaffected by fear or fatigue. And their technology... even at the height of our power, the Aeldari struggled to match it."
Franklin absorbed the information, his tactical mind already formulating strategies and contingencies. "Then we'll need to be prepared. Sovereign, begin compiling all available data on Necron technology and battle tactics. Cross-reference with Khaine's knowledge where possible."
"At once, Lord Valorian," the AI responded.
As the images faded, Franklin turned his attention back to the void of space beyond the observation deck. The stars seemed colder now, each one potentially hiding an ancient, slumbering threat.
"We should inform the Emperor," Franklin mused aloud. "If the Necrons are stirring, even on a small scale, He needs to know."
Khaine's presence rippled with agreement. "Wise, Primarch. Though I wonder how your father will react to the news. The Emperor is powerful, but even He may find the Necrons a challenge beyond His reckoning."
Franklin's jaw set with determination. "Then we'll face them together. The Necrons won't find humanity an easy prey."
--------------------------
In the heart of the Imperial Palace on Terra, within a chamber so secure that its very existence was known only to a select few, the Emperor of Mankind stood motionless. His towering form, clad in gleaming golden armor, was illuminated by the ethereal light emanating from countless hololithic displays surrounding him. Each display flickered with data streams, battle reports, and strategic assessments from across the burgeoning Imperium.
But it was a single data-slate that now held the Emperor's attention. His piercing gaze, capable of seeing through the veil of reality itself, was fixed upon the report submitted by His son, Franklin Valorian. The Liberator's words spoke of an ancient threat, one that had lain dormant for millions of years: the Necrons.
As He absorbed the information, the Emperor's mind reached out, piercing the veil of time itself. The future unfolded before Him in a kaleidoscope of possibilities, each branching path a potential reality. He saw countless versions of humanity's future, some glorious, others grim, but in each, a constant remained.
The Necrons would awaken.
In every possible future, approximately ten millennia from the present, the ancient xenos race would stir from their tomb worlds. The Emperor witnessed the devastating power of their technology, the implacable advance of their armies, and the havoc they would wreak upon the galaxy.
Yet, as He continued to peer through the myriad futures, the Emperor noted that the Necrons' awakening, while catastrophic, was not an immediate threat to His plans. The Great Crusade, the unification of humanity, and even the potential pitfalls that lay ahead in the form of chaos and betrayal – all these would come to pass before the Necrons posed a significant danger.
With a thought, the Emperor dismissed the swirling visions of the future. He returned His attention to the present, to the data-slate containing Franklin's report. A faint smile, invisible beneath His radiant countenance, touched His lips. His son's foresight and caution were commendable, further proof that the Primarchs were fulfilling their intended purpose.
The Emperor's fingers danced over the data-slate, inputting a series of commands. The report was classified, marked as a non-immediate threat but flagged for future reference. It would be stored in the deepest vaults of the Imperial archives, a warning for future generations should His grand plan falter.
However, the Emperor was not one to leave things entirely to chance. With another series of commands, He marked several planets for Exterminatus. These worlds, seemingly insignificant now, had featured prominently in His visions as future strongholds of Necron influence. Their destruction, while a drastic measure, would potentially alter the course of the far future.
As the Emperor completed His assessment, a chime sounded, signaling the arrival of Malcador the Sigillite. The Emperor's most trusted advisor entered the chamber, his aged form belying the immense psychic power he wielded.
"My Lord," Malcador began, his voice filled with curiosity, "I sensed your contemplation. Has something significant come to light?"
The Emperor turned to His friend, His voice resonating with the weight of eternity. "Franklin has uncovered traces of the Necrons, old friend. His concerns are valid, but the threat is distant."
Malcador's eyes widened slightly. "The Necrons? I had hoped they were merely legends."
"No legend, but a sleeping giant," the Emperor replied. "One that will not stir for ten millennia. We have more pressing concerns to address."
The Sigillite nodded, understanding the implications. "And the report?
"Classified, but preserved. Knowledge is power, Malcador. For Our Future Reference"
As Malcador absorbed this information, the Emperor's gaze returned to the hololithic displays. The Great Crusade continued across the galaxy, humanity's reach expanding with each passing day. Countless challenges lay ahead, but for now, the Necron threat remained a distant whisper, a storm on the far horizon.
-----------------------------
Battlefleet Liberty shimmered into realspace near the coordinates of a newly discovered world. At the helm stood Franklin Valorian, the Liberator, his imposing 15-foot frame dwarfing even the largest command consoles. His brown eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, now held a keen focus as he gazed upon the holographic display of the planet below.
"Sovereign," Franklin's deep voice rumbled through the bridge, "what do you make of this world?"
The ship's artificial intelligence, Sovereign, responded in a crisp, genderless voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Greetings, Primarch. Initial scans indicate a habitable world with signs of human civilization. However, I'm detecting unusual Warp activity that suggests proximity to the Eye of Terror."
Franklin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Any signs of immediate danger?"
"Negative, Primarch. However, I recommend caution. The Warp signatures are... unsettling."
"When are they not, my friend?" Franklin chuckled, his face breaking into a grin. "Give me details on the human presence. What are we looking at?"
Sovereign's voice took on a slightly more animated tone, as if pleased to share its findings. "The civilization appears to be feudal in nature, Primarch. I'm detecting multiple large structures consistent with fortifications. Interestingly, there are also energy signatures that match known patterns of Knight walkers."
"Knights?" Franklin's eyebrows shot up. "Well, well, looks like we've stumbled upon a lost Knight World. This day just got a whole lot more interesting. Any communication attempts from the surface?"
"Negative, Primarch. It appears they lack the technology for space-based communications. However, I am detecting numerous power sources consistent with Imperial technology, albeit several millennia out of date."
Franklin nodded, his tactical mind already whirring. "A world lost to time, then. Sovereign, what resources are you detecting? Anything of note?"
"Affirmative, Primarch. Preliminary scans indicate rich deposits of various rare earth elements, as well as significant promethium reserves. The planet's geothermal activity suggests potential for energy harvesting as well."
"Sounds like we've hit the jackpot," Franklin mused. "An intact human civilization, Knight walkers, and resources to boot. The Emperor will be pleased." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Now, about that Warp activity. What can you tell me?"
Sovereign's tone shifted, becoming more cautious. "The Warp signatures are... complex, Primarch. They suggest long-term exposure to Chaos energies, likely due to the planet's proximity to the Eye of Terror. I'm detecting fluctuations that are consistent with daemonic incursions, though nothing on a massive scale."
Franklin's jaw set in a determined line. "Chaos. It's always Chaos, isn't it? Any guess on which of the so-called 'gods' might be involved?"
"Based on the nature of the Warp disturbances and certain biological anomalies I'm detecting on the surface, I would hypothesize the influence of the entity you refer to as 'Papa Pimple', Primarch."
"Papa Pimple," Franklin spat the name like a curse, though a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "The Overgrown Petri Dish himself. Well, that complicates things." He paced the bridge, his massive form casting long shadows in the dim light. "Sovereign, run simulations. I want to know our best approach for making contact without triggering a full-scale daemonic zit-popping party."
"Processing, Primarch," Sovereign replied. After a moment, it continued, "Simulations suggest a small landing party would be optimal. A show of overwhelming force might agitate the Warp energies, while a more diplomatic approach could allow for gathering intelligence without immediately antagonizing any Chaos presence."
Franklin nodded, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Diplomacy it is, then. Prepare my personal shuttle. I'll lead the landing party myself."
"Primarch," Sovereign's voice held a note of concern, "I must advise caution. Your presence on the planet's surface could draw significant attention from Chaos forces."
Franklin laughed, the sound booming across the bridge. "My dear Sovereign, when have you known me to shy away from a little attention? Besides, if Nurgle wants to dance, I'm more than happy to oblige. It's been too long since I've had a good fight."
"As you wish, Primarch," Sovereign replied, a hint of resignation in its tone. "Shall I inform the Liberty Eagles to prepare for possible combat operations?"
"Absolutely," Franklin nodded. "Have them ready, but tell them to hold position unless I give the word. We don't want to spook our potential new allies planetside." He paused, then added with a chuckle, "Oh, and have Denzel meet me in the hangar. If we're going into a potential Nurgle situation, I want my best swordsman at my side."
"Understood, Primarch. Shuttle preparations are underway, and I've notified Captain Washington. Is there anything else you require?"
Franklin thought for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, actually. Prepare a data packet on Knight World customs and etiquette. If we're going to be dealing with nobles, I want to make sure we put our best foot forward."
"An excellent suggestion, Primarch. I'll have the information ready for you before you reach the shuttle."
"Perfect," Franklin said, already striding towards the bridge exit. "Oh, and Sovereign? Keep an eye out for any unusual tech signatures down there. A world this old might have some surprises for us."
"Of course, Primarch. I'll maintain constant scans and alert you to any anomalies."
As Franklin reached the door, he turned back, his face serious despite the excited glint in his eyes. "Sovereign, if things go sideways down there..."
"I understand, Primarch," the AI interrupted softly. "The Battlefleet Liberty stands ready. At your command, we will rain overwhelming firepower upon any who dare threaten you or the Imperium."
Franklin's face broke into a wide grin. "That's my girl. Alright, let's go make some new friends... and maybe pop a few of Papa Pimple's boils while we're at it."
With that, the Primarch of Liberty strode out, ready to face whatever challenges this mysterious Knight World might hold. Behind him, the bridge hummed with activity as the Liberty Eagles prepared for their next great adventure.
The Stormbird's engines hummed with barely contained power as it cut through the turbulent atmosphere of Austeria Extremis. Inside the craft's spacious hold, Franklin Valorian stood tall, his imposing figure dwarfing even his genetically enhanced sons. The Primarch's eyes gleamed with excitement, a stark contrast to the grim determination etched on the faces of his companions.
Sovereign's disembodied voice filled the cabin, "Primarch, I've taken the liberty of designating this world 'Austeria Extremis.' My analysis indicates that if this planet is not reunited with the Imperium within 100 years, it will be consumed by Chaos."
Franklin nodded, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Understood, Sovereign. We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen, won't we?" His trademark grin returned as he turned to his companions. "Gentlemen, let's talk about what we're walking into."
John Ezra, the ever-vigilant Head of the Secret Service, was the first to respond. "My lord, our advance teams have already secured the perimeter. We're in a bit of a standoff with the local PDF, but nothing we can't handle."
"Excellent work, John," Franklin approved. "Always two steps ahead, aren't you?"
Vladimir Mendelev, the Chief Librarian, cleared his throat. When he spoke, his thick ancient Russian accent filled the cabin. "Comrade Primarch, Techno-seers already analyzing plague afflicting peasantry. We can confirm, it is indeed work of... how you say... 'Papa Pimple', da?"
Franklin burst into laughter. "Papa Pimple? Vova my boy, I approve of the code-switching. Keeps things interesting."
Vladimir grinned, his stern features softening for a moment. "Ah, you caught me, father. I thought perhaps your continental High Command could use some... variety, da?"
"Da indeed," Franklin chuckled, giving Vladimir a thumbs up. "Keep it coming, Vova. I like a little spice in my war councils."
Steven Armstrong, puffing on his ever-present cigar, snorted. "Knights and chivalry. Old as shit, if you ask me. The only thing honor's gonna get these folks is an honorable death."
Denzel Washington, interjected. "There's nothing wrong with honor, Steven. But when your life's on the line, it's often the first thing to go. Honor's for the living, like the ancient Terran samurai Musashi taught us through his duels."
Franklin nodded approvingly. "Well said, Denzel. And it's precisely why we're here – to make sure these people stay alive long enough to keep their honor." He paused, his gaze drifting to the viewing port. "You know, it's fascinating. These Knight Walkers, they're not so different from what we use back in the Cluster."
The others turned to look at him, intrigued. Franklin continued, "Back home, we use similar tech for everything from cutting trees to mining operations. Hell, we even used them to fight off Xenos incursions. These days, they're mostly construction mechs. We've gotten too efficient at colonizing for Knight Houses to form naturally."
As if on cue, the Stormbird passed over a battlefield. Through the viewing ports, they could see the Peasantry Defense Forces engaged in combat with Chaos-tainted beasts. Las-gun fire crisscrossed the field, while artillery pieces boomed in the distance. Knight Walkers strode ahead, their massive weapons bringing down monstrous creatures. As they watched, one Knight beheaded a massive two-headed crocodile with a single swing of its chainsword.
"Now that's what I call pest control," Armstrong quipped, tapping ash from his cigar.
"Sovereign," Franklin called out, "give us a rundown on what we're seeing."
The AI's voice returned, crisp and precise. "Certainly, Primarch. You're currently observing a defensive action by the forces of Austeria Extremis against Chaos-tainted fauna. The planet's proximity to the Eye of Terror has resulted in the mutation of local wildlife into grotesque, oversized versions of their original forms. Current combat data suggests these creatures possess enhanced strength, resilience, and in some cases, limited Warp abilities."
"Fascinating," Franklin mused. "And terrifying. No wonder they're having such a hard time."
"Indeed, Primarch," Sovereign continued. "The planet's Knight complement has been reduced to approximately 400 operational units, down from an estimated 1,000 before the increased Chaos incursions. The populace is now forced to engage these beasts in melee combat when Knights are unavailable, leading to significant casualties."
Denzel frowned. "That's a substantial loss of military power. How are they managing repairs and replacements?"
"They are not, Captain Washington," Sovereign replied. "Resource scarcity and technological regression have made it nearly impossible for them to manufacture new Knights or conduct major repairs. This is compounded by the recent outbreak of a Nurgle-aligned plague, which is affecting both the human population and the local fauna."
"Bozhe moy," Vladimir muttered. "It is worse than we thought."
Franklin's expression hardened. "All the more reason for us to be here. These people need our help, and by the Emperor, we're going to give it to them."
The Stormbird began its final descent, aiming for a large square within a sprawling castle complex. John Ezra tensed visibly. "My lord, I must insist on conducting a final security sweep before you disembark."
Franklin clapped him on the shoulder. "Always the worrier, John. But that's why you're the best at what you do. Go ahead, but try not to ruffle too many feathers. We're here to make friends, after all."
As John nodded and moved to confer with his team, Franklin turned to the others. "Alright, gentlemen. Let's review our objectives. First and foremost, we need to establish a rapport with the local Knight Houses. Denzel you're with me"
Denzel nodded solemnly. "Understood, my lord. I'll do my best to bridge any cultural gaps."
"Good man," Franklin approved. "Steven, I want you to assess their military capabilities. Find out what they need most urgently and how we can bolster their defenses."
Armstrong grinned around his cigar. "You got it, boss. I'll whip these medieval boys into shape in no time."
"Just remember, we're here to help, not to mock," Franklin warned, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Vladimir, you and your Techno-seers will be our ace in the hole. I need you to dig deep into this Nurgle plague. Find its source, find a cure if you can, and for Emperor's sake, keep it contained."
Vladimir saluted, his face grim. "Da, Comrade Primarch. We will not rest until this foul corruption is purged."
"I know you won't," Franklin said softly. Then, raising his voice, he addressed them all. "Remember, gentlemen. These people have been fighting a losing battle against Chaos for who knows how long. They're tired, they're scared, and they're running out of options. We're not just here to save them; we're here to give them hope. Show them what the Imperium of Man can do when it puts its mind to it."
The Stormbird touched down with a gentle thud. Through the viewports, they could see a delegation waiting in the square, their faces a mix of awe, fear, and desperate hope.
John Ezra returned, nodding to Franklin. "All clear, my lord. The area is secure."
Franklin took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Well then, gentlemen. Shall we go make some new friends?"
----------------------
King Robert Thorndike stood atop the highest tower of Castle Thorndike, his weathered hands gripping the cold stone battlements. The weight of his crown, a relic from a forgotten age of prosperity, seemed heavier than ever. His eyes, once bright with the vigor of youth, now carried the weariness of a man who had seen his world slowly crumbling around him.
The skies of Austeria - or Austerea, as it was known in the local tongue - were dark and foreboding, as they had been for as long as anyone could remember. The constant threat of Warp storms loomed on the horizon, a reminder of their precarious existence so close to that gaping maw above. Robert's mind wandered to the challenges that had plagued his reign.
How long can we hold out? he wondered, not for the first time. The once-mighty force of 1,500 Knight Walkers, a legacy of Austeria's colonization during the Golden Age of Man, had been whittled down to a mere 400. The King's jaw clenched as he recalled the latest reports: another village lost, another Knight fallen in battle against a beast that should not be. The decline was as undeniable as it was terrifying. Each loss was a blow not just to their defenses, but to their very identity as a Knight World.
The Warp-tainted beasts that roamed the wilderness grew stronger with each passing year. What were once manageable threats had become monstrosities that could challenge even the mightiest of Knights. Robert's mind flashed to reports of two-headed crocodiles large enough to swallow a Grox whole, and packs of Warp-touched dingoes that could coordinate attacks with an almost human intelligence.
And now, this plague... Robert shuddered. It defied all known medical knowledge, corrupting both flesh and spirit. He had seen strong men and women reduced to gibbering wrecks, their bodies twisted by unnatural growths. The whispers in his mind grew louder, promising relief, promising power...
As if summoned by his grim thoughts, the whispers came again. Soft, insidious, they crept into the corners of his mind like a foul mist.
Why resist, child? the voice crooned. Embrace the gifts of the Grandfather. Let your people know peace in decay, find strength in corruption.
Robert shook his head violently, as if the physical action could dislodge the Warp-born temptation. "I am no child," he growled to the empty air. "And I know well the price of such 'gifts'."
He knew the source of these whispers - his ancestors had warned about the dangers of the warp, the whispers called it Grandfather Nurgle. He may not understand the intricacies of the Warp, but he knew enough to recognize its corrupting influence.
"I will not give in," he muttered to himself, a mantra he had repeated countless times. "For the sake of my people, for the legacy of House Thorndike, I will endure."
But for how long? The rational part of Robert's mind, the part trained in logistics and strategy since childhood, knew the harsh truth. At their current rate of attrition, Austeria had perhaps 100 to 150 years left before it would fall to the Warp. The thought filled him with a deep, aching sorrow.
He thought of the lesser houses - Macquarie with their hit-and-run tactics against the larger beasts, Wollemi desperately protecting the last remaining forests and agricultural lands. They looked to House Thorndike for leadership, for hope. How could he tell them that their doom was all but certain?
Robert's gaze drifted to the sprawling castle below, a testament to the ingenuity and resilience of his people, made from adamantium and ancient alloys, materials from man's golden age. House Thorndike had been a corporation before their isolation, pioneers in both industry and warfare. The memory of that glorious past only made their current struggles more painful, Millenia had passed all he knew was from the data-slates his ancestors had left.
A sudden commotion broke through his gloomy reverie. Gasps of awe echoed through the castle halls, loud enough to reach even his lofty perch. Robert's eyes snapped to the horizon, following the gaze of his astonished subjects.
And there, cutting through the perpetual gloom of Austeria's skies, was a sight that took his breath away. A fleet of voidships, sleek and powerful, their designs reminiscent of the legendary vessels from the Golden Age of Humanity. They moved with a grace that belied their size, taking up positions in low orbit with practiced ease.
Robert's heart began to race, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years beginning to bloom in his chest. Could it be? After millennia of isolation, had humanity truly returned to the stars?
The ships were unlike anything in Austeria's ancient records. They spoke of technological mastery far beyond what his world had maintained. Robert's mind reeled at the implications. A force capable of producing such marvels, of crossing the treacherous void between stars, could surely help them. They could turn the tide against the Warp-tainted beasts, find a cure for the plague, perhaps even restore their lost Knight Walkers.
In that moment, Robert Thorndike cared not who these newcomers might be. Angel or demon, conqueror or liberator – it mattered not. They represented power, technology, a link to the wider galaxy that Austeria had lost so long ago. Whatever their intentions, they brought with them the possibility of survival.
"We're saved," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. Then louder, "We're saved!"
The cry was taken up by those below, spreading through the castle like wildfire. Robert could hear the hope in their voices, the same hope that was now surging through his own veins.
As he watched the magnificent fleet, Robert's mind raced with possibilities. The connection to the vast empire of humanity, lost for so long, was about to be reestablished. Whatever changes had occurred in the galaxy during their isolation, whatever challenges these newcomers might bring, they were insignificant compared to the alternative - the slow, inexorable fall to the Warp.
Robert straightened, feeling the weight of his crown lessen for the first time in years. He was still King of Austeria, High Lord of House Thorndike, and he had a duty to his people. There would be negotiations to handle, diplomacy to navigate. But for now, for this moment, he felt something he had almost forgotten - hope.
"Humanity has returned to the stars," he said to himself, a smile breaking across his careworn features. "And with it, our salvation."
"Prepare a welcome," he barked to his stunned courtiers. "Summon the Knights, alert the other Houses. We must present a united front."
As his court scrambled to obey, Robert reflected inwardly. The voices that had plagued him were silent now, banished by the awesome sight above. Whatever trials lay ahead, whatever price these newcomers might demand, Robert knew one thing with unshakable certainty:
Austeria had a future. And he, Robert Thorndike, would ensure that his people lived to see it.
With a deep breath, the King of Austeria turned from the balcony and strode purposefully into his castle. Salvation had arrived.
----------------------------
King Robert Thorndike stood in awe as he made his way down to the square, his eyes wide with wonder and a hint of trepidation. The scene unfolding before him was unlike anything he had ever witnessed in all his years ruling Austeria.
By the Ancestors, what manner of men are these? he thought, his gaze fixed on the towering figures that now occupied his castle grounds.
The first thing that struck him was their sheer size. Even the smallest among them stood at least 6.5 feet tall, dwarfing most of his subjects and even himself. Their faces were hidden behind advanced helmets, adding an air of mystery and otherworldliness to their already imposing presence.
Their armor... it's unlike anything in our armories. Robert marveled at the deep blue of their suits, the red pauldrons adorned with white stars, and the majestic two-headed golden eagle emblazoned on their chests. It spoke of a level of craftsmanship and technology far beyond anything Austeria had possessed even in its glory days.
Robert watched, slack-jawed, as these giants scaled the castle walls with inhuman ease. Some even used what appeared to be jet packs to reach the highest towers. His knights, men he had always considered the pinnacle of human capability, were rendered obsolete in seconds.
They move like no mortal men I've ever seen, he marveled. Is this what humanity has become beyond our isolated world?
A commotion to his left caught his attention. One of these armored warriors had lifted a fully armored knight with one hand, as easily as Robert might lift a goblet. Another pushed aside a tractor, clearing space in the square with casual displays of superhuman strength.
Such strength... it's almost inhuman..., Robert thought, a mixture of awe and fear coursing through him.
In what seemed like mere moments, the square was cleared for a 500-meter radius. Robert and his retinue found themselves halted by two of these strange armored men, who instructed them to wait.
He sensed one of his knights bristling at the command, ready to object, but Robert quickly waved him down. No, we must not antagonize them. Whatever – whoever – they are, they are clearly our superiors in strength and skill.
The air suddenly filled with the roar of engines, and Robert's eyes were drawn to the sky. A massive craft, which he would later learn was called a Stormbird, descended from the heavens. Its size and design spoke of technology long lost to Austeria, rekindling memories of the ancient stories about humanity's golden age.
This must be their leader, Robert realized, his heart pounding with anticipation.
As the Stormbird's ramp lowered, Robert's breath caught in his throat. The beings that emerged were even more impressive than those who had preceded them.
First came an 8-foot giant, encased in armor that seemed more akin to a mech-suit than anything Robert had ever seen. This one moved with the practiced ease of a seasoned commander, scanning the area and issuing silent commands to those around him.
A raven, Robert thought suddenly, though he couldn't say why. Watchful, intelligent, always assessing.
They make our best knights look like fumbling squires, Robert thought, a pang of both admiration and despair running through him.
Next emerged a truly massive figure, easily 10 feet tall. This one bore no helmet, revealing a stern, weathered face. A cigar clenched between his teeth gave him an air of nonchalance that belied the obvious danger he presented. Robert watched as his own knights, brave men all, took involuntary steps backward.
A hawk, his mind supplied. Fierce, proud, a bird of war.
Robert turned to his men and thought, I don't blame them, Robert mused, feeling his own knees weaken slightly. That one looks like he could tear down the castle walls with his bare hands.
As the giants took their positions, Robert's mind began to work in an unexpected direction. Something about these beings, their bearing and the way they carried themselves, reminded him of birds of prey.
His thoughts were interrupted as another giant descended the ramp. This one removed his helmet, revealing skin as dark as the richest charcoal. Twin swords hung at his waist, and his bearing was noble and composed.
A dove, Robert thought, surprising himself with the comparison. Peaceful, yet no less deadly for it.
And then... then came him.
Robert's breath left him entirely as he beheld the final figure to emerge from the Stormbird. Standing a full 15 feet tall, the giant dwarfed even his impressive companions. But it wasn't just his size that commanded attention. There was an aura about him, a presence that seemed to fill the entire square. His face bore a perpetual smirk, not one of arrogance but of absolute confidence and assuredness.
The moment Robert's eyes met that ever-smirking visage, he felt something he hadn't experienced in years: hope. Pure, unadulterated hope.
An eagle, he thought, the realization hitting him with the force of a thunderbolt. Lord of the skies, symbol of freedom and power.
There was something about this giant that radiated confidence, assuredness, and above all, a sense that everything would be alright. Despite the obvious power difference, despite the potential threat these beings could pose, Robert felt... comforted.
The Eagle's presence seemed to fill the square, overshadowing even his impressive companions. Robert found himself drawn to that charismatic smile, feeling as though he were basking in the light of a sun after years of darkness.
Is this what it means to stand in the presence of greatness? he wondered.
For a moment, all of Austeria's troubles seemed to fade away. The constant battles against Warp-tainted beasts, the dwindling numbers of their Knights, the insidious plague that had begun to spread - all of it seemed manageable in the face of this being's assured confidence.
With him, we might actually survive, Robert thought, hope blooming in his chest. More than survive - we might thrive once again.
As the Eagle began to move towards him, Robert straightened his posture. Whatever was about to happen, he knew it would change the fate of his world forever. Gone was the weariness that had plagued him for years. In its place was a burning curiosity and a fierce determination.
These men, these giants among us - they are the key to our salvation, he realized. And this one, this Eagle - he is their leader.
Robert Thorndike, King of Austeria, High Lord of House Thorndike, took a deep breath. He was about to parley with a being of legend, a leader of men who were more than men. The fate of his people, of his entire world, would hinge on this interaction.
But as he met those confident eyes once more, Robert felt his fears melt away. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever changes these newcomers might bring, he knew one thing with absolute certainty:
The Eagle had come. And with him, the promise of freedom soared.
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