Chapter 23: Chapter Seventeen: Opening Gambits
Location: Vaults of the Sigillite
Date: 812.M30
The Day had arrived. Thirty years to the day since the lighting of the Astronomicon and the birth of the Primarchs. After decades of preparation, unification, and planning the Great Crusade to unify the human species was ready to start. Entire fleets orbited Mars, hundreds of thousands of Astartes along with millions of Imperial Army troops were gathering and preparing to start the Crusades first Campaign.
The Solar System was humanities cradle and needed to be cleansed. As the ashes of the Iron War cooled and the Age of Strife truly began slavers, raiders and worse descended upon the Sol System. Entire orbital habitats were stripped clean, the last surviving bits of ancient terraforming projects were destroyed as colonies suffered under the Alien and the Mutants cruelties.
Only Mars and Terra had been safe from these cruel predations. Protected by technological wonders and the Emperors respectively. The Emperor had sensed the suffering and misery of billions and had been unable to prevent it. Thousands of years ago while peering up into the Terran sky atop what had once been known as the Everest Mount he had sworn a bloody oath to avenge each and every life lost to the treacherous and the insane. Now the time to fulfill that oath had come.
Over the next few days the twenty Legions would launch and reclaim the Solar System, then the Twenty Crusader Fleets of the Imperium would leave Mother Sol and strike as mankind's wrath incarnate against the nightmares that dared taint humanities galaxy. Behind them would be hundreds of Expedition fleets sent to explore and unify the species.
The honor of first launch and strike belonged to the First Legion. The great fleet of Crusader Fleet One was preparing to leave Terran Orbit. Nearly Three hundred thousand Genesons of the First Primarch were being ferried aboard the Fleet by flocks of Stormbirds and last minute checks were starting.
A massive psychic-perception filter generated by the Emperor and projected by the Astronomicon hid the massive force from the galaxy. The Master of Mankind had once explained it to his sons as the Psychic equivalent of shining a light in someone's eyes to force them to look away. In fact, the Astronomicon had a similar effect on most Psychically active species in the galaxy that tried to view its source.
This was why none of the numerous powerful psychic species that would seek to destroy the infant Imperium had never journeyed to Sol. To them, it appeared humanity had destroyed itself in a great psychic inferno similar to the Eldar. Only the mad, the psychically blind and humans dared enter the inferno. This suited the Imperiums needs perfectly.
On the morning of the Launch, the First Primarch was called away from his duties by a strange message. Malcador the Sigillite required his presence within his sanctum. Eddard Fendragoon had never been particularly close to his Father's advisor and friend unlike some of his brothers. They had maintained mutual respect and Malcador had helped Eddard refine his Force-weapon skills. So the request, especially at such a critical juncture, seemed odd. Even so, Malcador was not one to waste time or be kept waiting so Eddard and his honor guard ventured into the Wing of the Palace Malcador called his.
They struck a magnificent sight, a fully grown Primarch and his trusted elite. Eddard strode through the vaulted granite halls of the Imperial Palace with his Sons forming a square around him. Standing over three meters the 1st Primarch was a heroic myth given flesh. Long golden hair was swept back from his forehead giving the impression of a lions mane framing his aristocratic features. His Eyes were forest green with golden flecks, they seemed more appropriate within a great Felines skull than a human, no matter how evolved.
While his honor guard wore enhanced Mk II Legio Armor Eddard's wargear was a Primarchs and a master crafted unique wonder. Eddard had personally created the basic design, and his more technically inclined siblings had improved it as a gift like they had all of their brothers. What unified the Primarch and Astartes armor was its color and heraldry. Obsidian black with Gold trim the 1st Legions armor struck an intimidating and awe-inspiring sight. Like all of its sibling Legions, it had not earned a name and sigil. The shoulder pad held a simple Gothic numeral One.
Various Administratium Adepts and menial scurried from the approaching demigod and transhumans. A few were foolish enough to glance upon Eddard and were transfixed by the Young Kings aura. Unlike most humans, they quickly recovered. The Emperor himself was a not uncommon guest in this part of the palace. The servants here were the ones who could withstand the mind-crushing pressure of numerous close encounters with the Master of Mankind and his Custodes. A Primarch is a great thing but still a shadow of their Father.
Eventually, Eddard reached the doors to the meeting place. It was a strange hidden away part of the palace. The entrance to the chamber was guarded by Malcadors Chosen. Even if Eddard could not have sensed his pseudo-uncles soul beyond the doors the presence of the ancient psykers praetorians was an indication of his presence or at least influence. The Captain of the Chosen Squad motioned for them to stop and spoke: "I am sorry my Lord Primarch but the Sigilites orders were explicit. Only you are allowed beyond here."
As one the Astartes bristled and reached for their weapons. Despite all the augmentations and enhancements of the Astartes, they were anxious about the coming battles and they feared enemy actions against their Gene-Father. Eddard had to admit he was impressed the Chosen had barely reacted to a squad of heavily armored Astartes preparing to attack them. With a gesture, he dismissed his Honor Guard and they testily took up defensive possessions across from Malcadors Chosen.
The chambers doors opened silently before Eddard could even touch them, they shut just as efficiently as soon as he entered. With a cursory glance, the First Primarch realized the looking he had been summoned too. It was a rumored place within the Palace. A location that's existence was debated and any information on was coveted viciously. Eddard Fendragoon had entered Malcadors Museum.
The Sigillite was well known for sponsoring various expeditions and archeological digs into the Old Earth. Some of the great exhibit's of various Imperial Museums had been found in these digs. Still rumors persisted that some of the more choice artifacts had vanished into Malcadors own private collection. This mythical museum supposedly held treasure troves of items of both historical and cultural significance. Eddard had heard his brothers whisper that when Old Night fell Malcador and his order had raided humanities museums and cultural centers to preserve the most priceless antiquities.
Stepping into the museum confirmed all of these rumors and revealed that if anything they understated the truth. Display cases neatly filled every wall and free space of the hidden vault. Eddards senses detected the telltale signs of hundreds of stasis-fields protecting the exhibits. The Firstborn knew Malcador was in the Chamber, the highly distinct psychic radiance of the Sigillite filled the chamber and seemed to be coming from the far end of the labyrinthian gallery.
Eddards othersight felt the symbolic energy of the countless artifacts leaking into the ether. This alone told him how old some of these objects were. Stasis fields slowed time to an incomprehensible small fraction of its original passage but even so time still passed within. Not enough to ever truly affect the items inside but enough to let the psychic energy of things immersed in warp-stuff or of particular spiritual resonance leak out. This process took millennia and Eddard and his brothers had only studied the theory involved. Huge sections of the Museum had been held in stasis since the very technology had been invented.
Moving with the practiced and powerful slowness of an apex predator the Primarch maneuvered through Malcadors museum. His eyes caught sight of glittering nano-colonies locked in time. Ancient scrolls of vellum that contained myths and sagas. A primitive gilded pod that despite its bizarre appearance was labeled as the first manned craft to touch Luna. These and countless other exhibits both small and massive documented legendary moments from human history.
The Primarch knew the chambers sprawled out in every direction, and this antechamber was simply the entrance to a much greater complex of lost wonders. He pondered this as he neared the end of the current chamber. These ponderings were interrupted by an ancient yet still powerful voice echoing from the chambers far wall.
"I have worked to maintain this collection for thousands of years. The documentation and protection of our species history was the duty of my order for most of our space-faring history. I am the last of that order and this Museum is the last reminder of so much that might forever be lost. So that leads me to my question Eddard, what do you think of it?"
The speaker was as ancient and withered as any of the exhibits he had surrounded himself with. Malcador the Sigillite: the Emperor's right hand stood in front of ancient stained-glass that formed the chambers back wall. The years seemed to weigh him down and the ancient mortal sagged against his staff. Even so, one as gifted with immaterial power such as Eddard knew the truth of the man before him. The psychic power that poured off Malcador was second only to his father and it even felt like a shadow of the golden corona he associated with the Emperor.
Observing the museum Eddard spoke: "It is most impressive, a testament to your wisdom and humanities Saga. That being said I have two questions for you Uncle."
A small smile further wrinkled Malcadors ancient face, it pleased him to be considered family by the Primarchs. "Oh? What questions might you have Eddard?"
Studying the exhibits with clinical detachment the Primarch responded: "First if the goal of your Museum is to preserve humanities history why are you keeping it a secret from humanity?"
The smile on Malcadors face turned somber at that. "Much was lost when Old Night came. Far more than you could ever imagine. Certain truths and knowledge would be far too destructive if they were widely known. The malignancy in the Warp is just one of many horrors humanity must be prepared to face. There is an old saying, "knowledge is power." Fools and egomaniacs believe that means all knowledge is good and necessary. In truth knowledge like any source of power can just as easily bring ruin as it can success."
Eddard knew the truth of those words more than most, he had personally witnessed the madness that had almost claimed his younger brother Magnus. In the three months, his sibling had disappeared into the tender mercies of the Lightingbearer the remaining Primarchs had been very well educated in the dangers of the Warp. His perfect memory could still summon up the wretched images of witch-things that had once been men mutated beyond recognition by the whims of Alien intellects.
He had been in charge of purging a rogue technocratic commune that went beyond the restrictions of the Lex Imperialis and delved into crafts and rituals born of living madness. Entire hab-blocks had to be scoured and melted down to fully remove the mutagenic taint of the Changer of Ways. Wise-folk who had sought to better themselves and others had been reduced to mewling masses of tumors and broken flesh. Knowledge was indeed power, and it must be guarded well.
Shuddering at what other truths burdened Malcador and his Father (which in time would eventually burden him as well) Eddard asked his other question. "I understand that it's a grim reality of our galaxy but that does not explain why you have summoned me here on the eve of the Crusade."
Turning away from the Primarch Malcador gestured at the stained-glass window behind him. Depicted there were numerous scenes that seemed to tell the saga of a King. Starting with the claiming of an entombed blade and ending with a band of Knights battling monstrous hordes. Eddard knew it was a rendition of the Arturian legends of ancient Gret Britton.
Before the Primarch could express confusion over it Malcador spoke. "Your father and I had high hopes and great worries when we initiated the Primarch Projects. You and your siblings could just as easily spell the damnation of our species as be its salvation."
That fact had been an open secret among the Primarchs, they knew the powers and abilities they wielded could lead them down foul paths. More than once during their childhood had a Primarch strayed into forbidden and twisted territory. The psychic links that connected the deepest sections of the brother's souls had helped keep any of them from becoming too far gone. The literal bonds of brotherhood formed a defense against the Warps horror.
Continuing Malcador spoke with a subtle hint of kindness: "Those fears have been thankfully negated. You and your brothers have surpassed any and all expectations we had. Frankly Eddard I am proud to consider you my kin and I believe the future of our species is at its brightest in millennia."
Malcador was anything but an emotional person, quiet wit and stoic commentary were the typical extents of the Ancients emotions. Eddard was taken aback and touched deeply by the Sigilites words.
Continuing the Emperor's Right Hand turned to look at the stained glass depiction of the claiming of Xalibar as he spoke. "Each of you was crafted in the image of a particular archetype from Human history. Literal living legends to unify the Galaxy. That keen intellect you and your brothers possess most likely assumed as much."
That much had been assumed by the Primarchs. The most extensive surviving library of human history had been theirs to explore as youths. The similarities between the brothers and certain recurring historical constants had been obvious. Tyric was the Northern Barbarian King, Dante the Angel, Horus the General, Vulkan the maker-king, and so on and so on.
At Eddard's acknowledgment of the truth of the statement, Malcador spoke more: "Can you guess what legend you were meant to continue young Lion?"
Almost immediately he replied as he pointed towards the stained-glass. "The Heroic King. Like Arthuris, Davi'd, Ozymand, Jimi, and other such examples."
Reaching out to touch the stained glass Malcador laughed slightly: "I suppose that was obvious. Such figures have appeared throughout history near constantly, great warriors and leaders who serve something greater than themselves. Each of these Kings believed themselves to be touched by what they called the Divine. Some were mad, some were kin to your father and a few were guided by him to help keep our species safe."
"That role of Knight-King, warrior, leader, and instrument of the Emperor falls to you Eddard. You were first conceived and born of your brothers, as such the eldest and most constant role falls to you." finished Malcador.
Thousands of thoughts poured through the superhuman mind of the First Primarch, he felt honored and humbled by his Uncles words. Of all these thoughts a single pressing question left his lips: "What does this mean?"
Turning to face Eddard again Malcador let out a sad chuckle: "Valdor and myself are referred to as the Emperor's left and right hand respectively. The meanings of those unofficial titles are many. Constantin Valdor holds the shield that protects your father as the left hand and deals in shadows as the sinister appendage. Similarly, I also had multiple roles. As both Imperial pen and sword, both equally mighty."
At that Eddard raised an eyebrow. He knew full well Malcadors psychic and intellectual might but the idea of the withered old man being ever considered a weapon or a weapon wielder seemed incredulous.
Whether through reading his thoughts or his body language (one never knew with Malcador and Eddard's father) the Sigillite knew and answered his unspoken question. "Even I was young once Young Lion."
A slight psychic probe originating from Malcadors mind and touched Eddards. With the Primarchs consent millennia old memories entered his mind.
*Unending mechanical swarms of insane murder-machines pouring in from every direction.*
*A dozen mech-suited warriors each slaying hundreds every moment with an unparalleled mix of martial skill and psychic power.*
*Multi-meter long blades of Adamantium cleaved through brute-robots with ease while warp-lighting danced off the war-suits cockpit and evaporated Data-feeding parasites.*
*The Cockpit was struck with a beam of liquid metal moving fast enough to be mistaken for a laser.*
*Surviving only thanks to an unbreakable kine-shield the mech-warriors suit staggered and its occupant exposed. Even with millennia of pain and experience removed the features and golden eyes of Malcador the Sigillite were unmistakable.*
Absorbing the memories of Malcadors time as Captain of the 1st Psi-Knight Division during the Iron War would have put most any being into shock. For a primarch mild surprise was all that entered Eddards mind as entire campaigns of horrific data entered him. Softly saying words that lesser beings would interpret as a question but was in truth a statement Eddard said: "You were one of the first combat-psykers in human history. You fought through the worst of the Machine uprising and were recruited out of your retirement as a Sigillite by my father."
"Yes, Psykers have always existed throughout human history, it was only with the Warps rising madness that the numbers and dangers ever reached this level. To combat some of the impossible weapons our creation unleashed impossible powers were needed. I spent those centuries of relative youth once I met the Emperor as his sword. Those days are long behind me." said Malcador and as he finished a slightly wistful look crossed his face.
Tentatively Eddard responded as the pieces fell into place. "You want me to be fathers sword? The right hand of War?"
Smiling softly Malcador confirmed the Primarchs words: "Yes Eddard, I want you to be my successor. That is why I asked you to join me here today. To ask you to take up this role I am unable to fulfill. If you and by your consent your legion chose to take this role, you will be first among equals. You already are a paragon among your brothers, if you choose to take this role you will lead them and the Imperium to victory and glory."
Malcador half expected the Primarch to either desperately try to deny his worthiness and claim another should take his place. Or over eagerly claim the role as his and flaunt the status it gave him. Most of his siblings would fall into one of those two categories. Either drowning in the power or becoming drunk on it. Eddard reaction was what Malcador had hoped when he picked him for this duty.
"I understand Malcador, I will fulfill this duty to the best of my abilities," responded Eddard with calm determination coloring his regal face.
That answer was why Eddard Fendragoon had been selected for this duty. From before his artificial birth he had been groomed for this role. To be the Emperor's Sword, not a Warmaster or Lord of War but a living weapon forged to defend humanity and drive back the darkness. A noble Knight-King ever questing in his Lords name.
Taking Eddard's massive hand into his own Malcador gave a warning: "It seems I choose correctly for this task Eddard. You are the first of your brothers to have your role made apparent. Still, keep in mind this honor means responsibility. You must be an ideal your siblings and the Imperiums countless warriors and soldiers must aspire too. Know that Primarch and the future of our species is secured.
At Malcadors gesture the Primarch knelt like a Knight of old and felt the Sigilites staff touch his shoulder as the ancient spoke. "Eddard Fendragoon, with the power vested in me by the Master of Mankind I name thee The Emperor's Sword."
Then he started to recite the oath and with each question and answer, he moved the staff's tip to the Primarchs other shoulder in a neo-knighting ceremony.
"Do you swear to serve Mankind and keep it secure from the horrors of the Universe?"
"I do"
"Do you swear to always strike those who would do our species harm with a swiftblade, a steady heart, and no mercy?"
"I do"
"Do you swear to set an example your siblings can aspire to, while not lording over them?"
"I do"
"Do you swear loyalty to the Emperor of Mankind and to his grand vision?"
"I do"
"Do you swear to be just to your subordinates, fair to your equals and bring judgment to your enemies?"
"I do"
"Do you swear to lead mankind when you are needed and will step aside when you are not?"
"I do"
"Eddard Fendragoon will you become the Emperor's Sword?"
"I will"
With those fateful words, the ceremony ended and the First Primarch took up the mantle he had been created for. Rising to his feet he solemnly bowed to Malcador and said: "I am honored beyond words, I will do everything in my power to fulfill my oaths and continue the example you set Lord-Sigillite."
Smiling softly Malcador responded: "I know"
"I have a pair of gifts for you Eddard" continued Malcador.
With a tap of his staff, the stained-glass mural slid into the wall revealing a hidden display set into the wall. An ancient intricate Force-Sword floated in the stasis-case display. It was more than two meters from pommel to tip. Circuits of both material and immaterial energy lined its Adamantium alloy blade. In the shape of a classical Europa long-sword was mankind's martial history made manifest. Eddard had only ever seen a weapon of equal craft and wonder, and it was wielded by his Father.
The case opened, field deactivated and it slowly floated towards the Primarch. Instinctually he reached out and took it by its hilt. When it was fully in his grip he knew it was the perfect weapon. Balanced and sized perfectly even for his bulk, its edge had been forged with lost technology to a mono-molecular energized tip.
Psychic runes and circuits eagerly awaited his minds touch and when he connected his soul to the blade it ignited instantly in blinding white light. Quickly diming it Eddard moved with it experimentally, it already felt like an extension of his body and soul. This was the sword he had been destined to use.
As he felt himself bond to it a certain leftover flicker of psychic residue hidden within it entered his mind. Realizing the source he turned to look at Malcador and said.
"This was your blade, what you used in the Iron War when you battled alongside Father."
"Yes, it is the perfection of Force-Weaponry. the wisdom of your father and the material mastery of the Golden Age formed into a killing edge." responded the Sigillite
"What is its name?" asked Eddard.
"Titansword, it earned that name twice over. first, for the Moon, it was forged on, second, for slaying many Mad-Titans during the Iron War."
Smiling at the possibilities such a weapon possessed Eddard thanked his uncle and predecessor: "I will wield your gift as the Emperor's Sword. Its edge will taste Xeno-blood and its Fire will scour Neverborn from being. Thank you Malcador, you have honored me beyond words."
"That was my gift to you, don't you want your Father's?" asked the ancient psyker.
"Your Father the Matrari and I have all been working on gifts for each of you. To be presented to each of you at your fleets launch. One gift of War and one of Peace. The Titansword was your gift of War."
On that cue, the museum's doors opened and in walked Meghann Winzar, Eddards Assa-Matrari. Dressed in regal dress common to the noble families she was descended from she struck the figure of Aristocratic matriarch perfectly. Her face held a kind soft smile that the stern and strong-willed women saved for Eddard alone. In her hands was a wooden box with the Emperors personal seal upon it.
Once she reached them she hugged her son and spoke chidingly to Malcador: "My Grandchildren may be genetically engineered super-soldiers built for war but they have better manners than your guards Malcador. If Captain Lanval hadn't stopped them your chosen would have searched me in a far too thorough manner for my taste."
Smiling at his adoptive mother's sharp tongue Eddard interceded on his Uncles behalf: "Now Matron they were simply doing their duty. I assume they broke countless protocols to let you even be here."
"I suppose so. They are at least more palatable than your Fathers gilded automata." she sighed as she gave a final withering glare at Malcador.
Numerous unpleasant incidents involving the fanatical protectiveness of the Custodes had earned the entire brotherhood the near-unanimous ire of the Assa-Matrari. The Golden Legion had fast learned the age-old adage that the most dangerous lifeform was a mother protecting her children was not an exaggeration.
Turning to speak to Malcador Meghann curtly asked. "Could you please channel him? My son has many duties to attend to and a war to start."
At that remark, Golden light filled the Chamber and an ancient psychic link was activated. The Emperor of Mankind or at least a shadow of him joined them in the chamber. Speaking through Malcador the Father of the Primarchs smiled and said in a voice that radiated fatherly love, and calm power.
"Eddard I am so proud of you my son. You and your brothers have exceeded my hopes by far. It is my honor and pleasure to have you as my sons. I have a gift for you and your brothers."
With those words, Meghann opened the box and showed its content to her son. Within was an ornate golden ring. Carved in the shape of a snarling lion with onyx eyes it was large enough to serve as a women's bracelet, or fit on a Primarchs ring finger.
The Emperor's golden light levitated the ring out of its cushioned box and onto his son's hand as he spoke: "After an arduous search I found a large ingot of gold mined near my home village around the year of my birth. I crafted this ingot into a set of rings. One for each of my sons. Formed in the astrological sigil they are linked to and forged by my psychic power."
Eddard felt the faint soothing glow of his Father's power emanating from the metal. With a motion, he disengaged his right gauntlet and let the armor fall to the floor as he used his left hand to place the ring upon his finger. A warmth spread from it over him as the Emperor's projection spoke.
"It is human history forged by a father's protection, blessed with a mothers love and crafted in the image of our son. Eddard take these gifts of war and peace. Go forth and be the hero you were meant to be."
With those words, the Emperor's visage faded from being and Eddard knelt down and embraced his adoptive mother. After a few parting words to both her and Malcador, he redonned his gauntlet over his ring-bearing hand locked his new blade to his hip and left the Museum. Flanked by his guards he marched back to his waiting legion. He was the Emperors Sword and he had a War to win.
The rest of the day continued as originally planned. Armies were marshaled and battle plans were made. The first target of the Great Crusades conquest of Sol was the Asteroid belt that split humanities cradle in two. The duty of subjecting this maze of cosmic debris that was both heavily defended by Xeno raiders and mineral-rich fell to the First and Second legions.
At the height of the Age of Strife when all sense of sanity had faded away a species of alien-scum that had once been cast to the farthest reaches of the galaxy for their despicable nature had infested Sol. A race of mutants, slavers and worse the Q'Hrel had conquered the mines and bastions of the Belt and turned into their own private fiefdom.
From their seemingly impregnable system of lashed together asteroids and scavenged void-habitats the Q'Hrel had enjoyed an age of bounty where millions of humans from across the Solar System were stolen away in their raids to be used as slaves or worse for foul Xeno Masters. Striking at these Xenos and reclaiming the Belt from them would not only be a great strategic success in acquiring resources and a defensive line but also show humanity the nightmares of Old Night could bleed.
The I and II Legions would work in concert with each other to blitz the Xenos. Stamping them out of existence before they could even organize a defense. Q'Hrel infestations filled the Belt. It would be a brutal Naval campaign to purge them from the Belt and make it safe for human colonization. The central domain within the belt of the Xeno-Slavers was the dwarf-planet Ceres. Once an ancient communication relay it was now a vile flesh-market where Xeno-Breeds of all kinds bought and sold humans like (or as) livestock.
That planetoid was the prime target of the Ist Legion. They would crush the Q'Hrel with blade and bolter. Freeing the slaves and restoring Ceres to its rightful owners. This strike would appear from the void and smash the slavers leadership. During the attack, the swashbuckling second Primarch Aleixo Garvia would lead the Imperial Fleet in destroying the other infestations.
Once Ceres was safely in Imperial hands and the Belt was open for colonization and exploitation the next phase of the Crusade would begin. The next eighteen legions would spread throughout both inner and outer Sol and reclaim the system. This first step was critical if the initial decisive strike was anything less than that the Imperium would be bogged down in months if not years of brutal tunnel fighting.
The final speeches and proclamations declaring the start of the Crusade had ended days ago. Now the citizens of Terra could only stand by and watch as legions of superhuman soldiers were steadily transported to the waiting fleet. The First Legions Flagship was even now docked in low earth orbit above Gredbrittion. The massive Gloriana-class Battleship known as The Ty-Prydwen could hold a complement of over a hundred thousand battle-brothers of the First Legion along with all the armor, weapons, vehicles, support staff, auxillia and other necessities of War.
That was where Eddard Fendragon was headed. It had been a few hours since his fateful meeting with Malcador. In that time final launch preparations had been made and final words had been shared between him and his Matrari. He was off to war. Of course, he had combat and command experience through training and helping put down numerous threats on both Terra and Mars but this was no skirmish or exercise. This was going to be a war.
The prospect of such a thing sent a shiver up his spine. An instinctual response shared by all great predators when prey was near. Like all Primarchs and humans, in general, Eddard was a complicated being. He was both the noble Knight-King of the Imperial Court and a vicious apex-predator that thirsted for blood and doom. This dichotomy of honorable noble behavior in civilian settings while being brutal, efficient, and pragmatic killing machines on the battlefield was shared by the entire Ist Legion.
One hundred thousand Astartes of the First Legion were now aboard the Ty-Prydwen, the massive vessel was the first and so far only Gloriana-class ship to leave the Martian Ring of Iron. The next nineteen were awaiting finishing touches and data collected from the Ty-Prydwens first engagement to be ready for launch.
An escort of Battle-Barges, Battlecruisers and comparatively minuscule destroyers each containing Astartes contingents formed an honor guard for the massive vessel. Between the dozens upon dozens of ships, 300,000 battle-ready soldiers of the First Legion stood ready to bring hell to the Imperium's foes.
Eddards personal Stormbird landed within his flagship and the Primarch and honor guard made their way through rows of saluting Astartes. Some of these Astartes had never seen their gene-father in person. These young battle-brothers managed to maintain their composure even as the demi-god of war their very genetics were bound to strowed past them. Armored in a flawless obsidian plate and armed with a Sword forged to a perfect killing edge he was the Imperiums Black Knight in all its terrible glory.
Leaving the hanger the Primarch and his guards ventured to the ship's bridge. The Command Throne of the vessel was gigantic, sculpted to fit the Primarchs mass. Command thrones allowed a ship's Captain to quickly and efficiently access the tremendous amount of information required to command a Void-Ship.
The Ty-Prydwen's Throne was a much greater object. It was interlinked with the entirety of the First Legions Fleet and allowed a being of sufficient intellect and willpower to not only observe and understand the entirety of the fleet but command it near instantaneously. Orders could be transmitted to the Command Thrones of the fleets various ships and allow mass synchronization and grand strategy on a nearly unmatchable scale.
Eddard was skilled at fleet command and could wield his personal fleet as if it were all his own ship. Even so, he utterly paled in comparison to the other Primarch involved with this mission. Aleixo Garvia had earned his nickname of "Void Master" many times over. In both simulations and actual Void-exercises, he had surpassed his siblings easily. The Second Primarch had arrived into his current flag-vessel hours before and had taken command of the hundreds of massed Imperial ships readying for the battle to come.
Once his armor and mind were fully synced into his throne Eddard let the never-ending onslaught of data both trivial and critical bombard him. Processing at a rate a macro-cogitator would be hard-pressed to match the Primarch grasped and understood the condition, capabilities and best tactical uses of the Fleet. A small smile crossed the Primarchs face as he confirmed the Fleet was combat ready and awaiting his orders.
Within the torrent of data was a Vox burst from his brother's current flagship, the Battlebarge Endeavour. It was a private communique from his brother who had apparently earned the title of Imperial Explorer to match Eddards role as the Emperors Blade. The first and second born Primarchs were close to each other and despite the contrast of Eddards stoicism and Aleixos rambunctious energy. The message read: "To the Emperor's Sword. Good hunting and stay safe my brother."
Smiling at that Eddard allowed himself a few more moments of contemplation and humanity before he slipped into the role of commander. One of the techniques the Primarchs had learned was a way of compartmentalizing themselves into various roles. It helped diminish battle fatigue and centered the superhuman emotions that were a side effect of the Primarchs nature. As a commander, Eddard was no longer the noble and charming Knight of the Imperium but the ruthless and calculating Black King of War his father and species needed to win the war for survival.
Opening up a vox link to the First Legion Fleet Eddard the Commander spoke to the first legion fleet, both Astartes and mortal. "This is Primarch Eddard Fendragon, I am hailing all vessels of the First Legion."
Hundreds of thousands of souls snapped to attention and paused from labor to listen to the Primarchs words. "Today the first of many battles for humanities survival will be fought. The galaxy is a dark place, filled with terrors beyond imagination. For too long these horrors have hidden in the shadows and preyed upon our people like the vermin they are. The galaxy has become a domain darkness and fear, that shall stand no longer. In this dark galaxy, we shall be the Light!"
A Cheer burst forth from countless throats at the demigod of wars words and instantly quieted as he continued. "I met with my Father the Master of Mankind and his right hand the Sigillite earlier today. In our meeting, they honored me and this legion while simultaneously charging us with a great task. The First Legion has been selected to be the Emperor's Sword. We are to be the first among equals and the standard all will be measured against. We shall be a blade within the Emperor's hand, ready to strike down humanities foes no matter the cost."
"This Legion has been given the role of being the Emperor's will incarnate. Our duties shall be great, we must exemplify the Imperium's best in peace and obliterate its foes with utmost fury in war. We will be the first and the exemplar for what Astartes and the human species can do. Failure is not an option, I will drive myself to my very limits in service to mankind and its master. I ask my sons and our mortal comrades in arms to do the same."
As the speech ended a thunderous chant erupted of "FENDRAGON! FENDRAGON! FENDRAGON!"
With his speech concluded the First Primarch took his legion to war. At his command, the first one hundred ships of the I Legion left Terran orbit and prepared to strike against the Xeno menace. Moving with the disturbing synchronization only a Primarch guided fleet could possess the vessels formed into battle formation as they reached the Lunar Lagrangian point.
The fleets formation had similarities to both a solar system and an arrow in construction. The massive bulk of the Ty-Prydwen formed the shaft, battle-barges forming the head and the battleships of the fleet forming the fletching. Orbiting this Arrow were dozens of escorts ranging from Cruisers supplementing the boarding specialized battle-barges firepower to swarms of picket ships symbiotically flirting about the Ty-Prydwen ready to shoot down enemy missiles and attack craft.
Under the Primarchs commands the fleet moved as one. Thunderous plasma drives all working to move the vessels away from Terra and towards the Belt. Weapons teams prepped Plasma cannons, Lances, and launch bays for the coming conflict. The fleet was broadcasting various jamming signals to hide from the Q'Hrel, thankfully the Xeno's were fairly primitive and the basic anti-auger the fleet possessed was more than enough to mask themselves. The Xeno's would only know Doom was upon them when it was before their very light-sensors. By then it would be far too late for the filth.
As the fleet passed by Mars various data-bursts of the most recent Martian scans of Ceres were sent to the Legion. The only new developments it seemed were new slave-barges unloading the unfortunate humans that had been dragged into the void by the Slavers from all across Sol. They would be rescued and this domain of slavery would burn.
Soon the fleets scanners picked up the Belt. Hundreds of inhabited asteroids and proto-planets were detected and marked. Auger Probes were released in great swarms to find every last infestation of Xeno's and document every potential threat. The information was spread throughout the fleet and transmitted to the Imperial Fleet that according to the timetable should be leaving Martian orbit. They would arrive to strike the targets marked by the First Legion just as the climax of the Ceres Invasion started.
Slowly and steadily the Ty-Prydwen moved into firing position along with the rest of the fleet. The scans indicated the military strong points and command centers of Ceres. Thousands of targeting cogitators aimed the fleet's firepower at the targets and readied themselves. Taking a deep breath Eddard issued his command "Fire."
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