章節 46: Chapter Twenty-Two: Rising from the Ashes (Part I)
Location: Komorokh System, Centuari Cluster
Date: 884.M30
For decades, the Great Crusade had raged across the Galaxy. The Imperium of Man conquered, discovered and liberated thousands of systems. Twenty Primarch, each leading a Legion of Angels, struck down countless foes. It was a time of hope and courage, not yet darkened by the dreadful Xenocides that marked the latter Crusade. Humanity rapidly blossomed, shedding the terror of Old Night and embracing the manifest destiny the Emperor sought to craft. The exploits of his Primarchs grew legendary as well, with each Crusader Fleet accomplishing mighty deeds.
Of all the Crusader Fleets, one stood above all others: the Emperor's personal fleet, Crusader Fleet Zero. Crewed by the Talons of the Emperor, contingents of the twenty Astartes Legions, and the elite of all Imperial war-trades, Crusader Fleet Zero went wherever the Master of Mankind was needed most. Secret missions to fill the Shadow Cells of Terra, sensitive diplomatic opportunities, and turning the tide of crucial battles.
The Primarchs would all at various times be accompanied by Fleet Zero. Sometimes for days, other times for years. Having the Emperor fight alongside a Legion was an honor beyond measure. His very presence pushed its warriors to impossible heights. Factoring in his intellect and martial prowess, no foe could stand against the Emperor and whichever son he traveled with.
In the year of 884.M30, the Emperor fought alongside the III Legion and its Primarch Iskandar Basileus. The white-haired, purple-eyed Adonis of a Demigod, had already sculpted a legend of dashing hero and cultured war prince across the Imperium. Similarly, the III Legion was renowned for its unique blend of martial perfection and political acumen. The potent geneseed of Iskandar combined with Apothecary Primus Fabius' skill had created a Legion of miniature versions of their Primarch.
Fabius's skill is without equal among Astartes. So even with the III's harsh requirements for possible neophytes, they grew into one of the largest Legions. This was balanced by the secondary role of the III Legion. Nearly a third of its battle brothers were deployed across the galaxy as Guard-Aides to Imperial Officials and diplomats. There, they provided polite, charming, and highly deadly reminders of the Imperium's potency. As such, the III Legion became a public face for the Legio Astartes, and were renowned for their high rate of peaceful or at least minimally violent compliances. This was the reason the Emperor chose the III Legion to accompany him for an endeavor that would require the Imperium's finest diplomatic skill and in the worst case, their precision warfare abilities.
Crusader Fleets Zero and III journeyed into the Centauri Cluster, a patch of dense stars long inhabited by humans on the border of Segmentum Tempestus and Pacificus. Here, ancient colonies and long lost techno-relics could be found, including the world of Proxima. The planet held unique interest to the Emperor. In the God-Emperor's timeline, he had been struck low on that world. A Vortex Grenade wrapped in the tanned skin of a Pariah had severely damaged his physical body.
Petty vengeance for another reality's slight was beneath the Master of Mankind. He sought Proxima for two reasons. First, to acquire the Vortex Weaponry STC hidden upon the world. The God-Emperor had claimed it for his Talons and burned the world to hide the discovery from the Mechanicum and Legions. Second, he wanted to test exactly how far history had changed from the Chaos-claimed timeline.
The dense nature of the Centauri Cluster along with the Warp's madness made time flow differently upon Proxima. Where a few decades since the point of differentiation had passed on Sol, entire centuries had gone by in the Proxima System. This was common across the galaxy. Time is relative and passed at different rates across the galaxy. Astropathic Choirs had the unique ability to somewhat synchronize systems by sharing psychic visions, allowing some level of stability in Imperial held space. So the two Crusader Fleets traveled to the cluster, hunting for secrets both old and new.
Guided by the Emperor's light the fleet entered the cluster at the edge of a system home to human colonists before Old Night known as Komorokh. Almost immediately upon exiting the Warp, the Auspex howled with contacts. The system was alive with void-ships. The human colonies of Komorokh System had survived the terrors of Strife and were thriving. Two habitable worlds and dozens of outposts across the system shone on the holo-display. Astropathic readings also picked up low-level warp disturbance. The kind that was characteristic of system hopping Warp jumps. This system was not alone. The Cluster was home to an alliance of human systems, and the Imperium had arrived at their doorstep.
As the Crusader Fleets fully exited the Warp and the veil shuttered close, thousands upon thousands of signal exploded into the Fleets comm arrays. The Imperium had arrived with a military force to conquer entire sectors. The civilization automatically assumed the worst and its stations and ships closest to the Mandeville Point issued challenge hails to the Bucephalus, accurately guessing the largest and most golden vessel led the Fleet.
The binary messages were close enough to Techna Lingua to allow easy translation. They all could be reduced to three questions. "Who are you? Where are you from? What is your purpose?"
Great engines of calculation and psychic manipulation surged within the Bucephalus. The Cognatu Ferrum studied the countless transmissions and vox traffic to translate the systems' language. It needed to be perfect, for the slightest error could lead to tragic diplomatic consequences. The great psychic intelligence concluded the tongue spoken was a descendent of standard Terran, itself a distant cousin to Imperial Gothic like most languages spoken across the human colonies. Information of this newly acquired dialect was shared across the fleet and transmitted to the Emperor and Iskandar.
At his father's orders, the III Primarch addressed the Komorokh System as a whole, his transhuman mind mastering the systems language as fast as the Cognatu Ferrum could transmit it. In a strong yet melodic voice, Iskandar Basilius proclaimed "We are the Imperium of Man. We come from Ancient Terra to fulfill the dream of unity."
Terra, humanity's homeworld. The world from where mankind once ruled the stars. Remembered in half-forgotten myths across a thousand worlds and cultures. In the millennia of the Old Night, people would cry out to Mother Terra for salvation, desperate for long-gone heroes and secrets to save them. Now, after many long ages, those cries were answered.
Slowly, so as to not startle the shocked system, the Imperial Fleet glided towards the inhabited worlds. The titanic might of the Imperium was displayed for the system to see. The two Crusader Fleets were each composed of hundreds of beautifully crafted vessels. By contrast, the sub-light craft of the system's inhabitants were simple scavenged things. Curiously painted in bright motley colors in kaleidoscopic arrangements.
The Bucephalus soon entered the orbit of the chief Komorokhan world. With the local government's permission, a diplomatic party teleported down into the prime government complex. In a flash of warp-lightning, the Emperor, Iskandar, and their respective honor guards arrived upon the world. Crowds numbering in the millions and hundreds of officials awaited the leader of this mysterious Terran force. They were near blinded by what arrived. Twin gods and an army of Angels descended onto the world. Of the spectators, some fainted, others knelt unconsciously, and many just simply stared, transfixed by the Master of Mankind and his third-born Son.
The golden Custodes and the regal Astartes stood against the almost garish display of colors the locals coated themselves in which seemed to wilt in comparison to the Emperor and Iskandar. The God-Caller and Called-God approached the most opulently dressed gaggle of officials. Plucking the leader's name from his mind, the Emperor addressed her. "Conclave Councilwomen Jommexirrs, I am the Emperor of Mankind. I have come from Terra to unify the Human species under one banner. Will this world join us like so many others, to help end the Old Night?"
The councilwomen fell to her knees and could bare looking at him as she asked her question in a halting voice. "Are you a god? Did the Many-Colored King send you?"
The Many-Colored King was the god-head the system's culture worshipped. A figure of wonder, horror, wisdom, and foolishness that in their myths protected them from the worst of Old Night. Smiling softly, the Emperor responded and the old chairwomen could see the weight of eons in his eyes as he did. "No child, I am not a god. Just a human who hopes to protect all of mankind. I was created to guide mankind to its ascension, much like how a parent guides a child to adulthood. No king, god, or other being sent for me. I am here because Mankind wills it."
The mystery and wonder of the Emperor's arrival soon evolved into a festival. Word spread like wildfire. How the golden king of Terra had arrived and with him came promises of a new dawn. Inside the government complex, the Imperium and this new culture met each other. Komorokh was just one of 52 human-inhabited systems within the Cluster. A conclave of allied worlds that traded and provided a mutual defense. Extravagant and eclectic, but not excessive. The Cluster held a culture of pageantry, tradition and bombastic displays. Interestingly, the social fabric of all of these systems was tied together by the worship of the Many-Colored King. He was the object of worship of a singular religion that unified and forged common ground between the systems which were at best many months of warp-hops away from each other.
The leadership of Komorokh was highly receptive to the idea of joining the Imperium, for the Centauri Conclave worked on the same basic principle of survival through unity. Was it not simply the best option to become part of a larger and more stable whole? Komorokhs place as one of the edge-systems of the Cluster also played a part. Invasions of Xeno, mutants, and worse were rare but not unheard of. Edge systems like Komorokh were where those vicious wars were fought and left lasting scars upon its people and their memories. Being under Imperial protection would save billions. The Imperium offered safety, technology, culture, and a brighter future.
Only two things made Conclave Councilwomen Jommexirrs and her colleagues hesitate. How the other members of the Conclave would react, and the Imperiums desire to dismantle religion. The first worried them on a practical level. If they alone changed sides they would find themselves a battleground between the Conclave and Imperium. Jommexirr personally had no doubt the Imperium would crush the other 51 systems, but at what cost to her people? Giving up the faith in the Many-Colored King would be extremely difficult as well. For the billions that lived within the Centauri Cluster, he was a figure to be revered and feared. Turning their back on the god would be betraying his protection and spell doom.
The leaders of Komorokh found themselves slowly but surely drawn to the Imperial Truth. Secret truths were revealed by the Emperor. Chaos, corruption spreading through religion and the Xeno threats infesting the galaxy. Councilwomen Jommexirr found herself increasingly unsettled as the illumination continued. She knew the Many-Colored King was real, she had seen his Angels upon the Cardinal-World. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory. Astartes could be at least passingly angelic, the King's children could not.
An agreement was soon reached. Peaceful incorporation of the Cluster would only be possible with the approval of Proxima, the Cardinal-System where the Many-Colored King revealed himself and the heart of his worship. Getting Proxima to join the Imperium and give up its faith would make the rest fall in line. Couriers frantically raced messages between worlds as the details were sorted. The Proxima officials were nervous at the idea of an entire Warfleet arriving in their system. As such the vast majority of the Crusader Fleets would stay in Komorokh and continue advocating the Imperial Truth. A diplomatic mission consisting of Emperor, Primarch and their inner circle would journey to Proxima and convince the Cardinal World.
As the Emperor and his elite left Komorokh, the Councilwoman felt the golden warmth of the Emperor's existence fading with distance. She had been lucky her world had felt that light as an illuminating brilliance, a sort of spiritual sunlight to heal the soul. In her brief encounter with the Emperor, Jommexirr's finely honed instincts let her into the truth of the Emperor. Like a star, he could bring life or death. Komorokh had been graced with his compassion and wisdom. How many systems had and would be cursed with his world-ending wrath? As the Custodes' frigate carrying the diplomatic party entered the Warp, she whispered to herself a truth so obvious most can never see it. "If the Emperor is not a god, then nothing is."
The Master of Mankind guided the frigate through the Warp to Proxima, all the while preparing himself and his followers for what might come. The Centauri Conclave was a semi-functioning theocratic federation of human worlds under the protection of an enigmatic god-figure and guarded by mysterious 'angels' that disturbed any who encountered them. It was also a fully unique product of the timeline changes. An example of the billions of lives and entire cultures altered in unforeseen ways. It was because of this shifted nature that the Emperor's foresight was crippled. Peering into both the Warp and gifted memories, Atham the Revelation knew something of great value lay upon Proxima, and a grave threat also awaited him. The details were obscured, muddled by shifting timelines and dueling gods.
Constine Valdor and Iskandar Basilius took this knowledge and prepared. Spending the days of warp travel training and preparing for any eventuality. Both were experts in security, diplomacy and human culture and they naturally disliked each other intensely. Valdor did little more than acknowledge most of the Primarchs, holding a deep-seated distrust and antipathy for them. They were simply valuable pieces in the Emperor's ambition. This was fueled by the Captain-Generals knowledge of the God-Emperors timeline. For a creature like Valdor, built for a singular purpose, having a population of powerful beings that could and in some ways already had ruin that purpose exist was antithetical. Where Malcador and the Emperor could see the Primarchs as more than their broken counterparts, Valdor saw them they as another possible and highly insidious threat.
For his part, Iskandar did little to help heal this relationship. Where most Primarchs understood Valdor's nature and could have at least functioning relationships with the Custodes. The Imperial Champion felt nothing but bitter rivalry with Valdor. This was based on the nature of the III Legion and the Custodes. The duties of both forces were remarkably similar. A common theme with Iskandar and his sons was a sense of competition with the Golden Brotherhood and constantly sought to prove themselves equal to the 10,000. Iskandar in particular felt this. As the Emperor's Champion, he knew he must surpass all in his martial skill and loyal service to the Master of Mankind.
The III Legion and Primarch were made to be the perfect face of the Imperium. Each Battle-Brother sought to craft themselves into a work of art. A thing of perfect duty, following strict codes of honor and etiquette. They held themselves to impossible standards, taking pride in the struggle to master their duties fully. At the Emperor's side, this drive to excel was pushed even further. They would not be found wanting by their liege.
When Iskandar was not immersed in his duties, he dwelt within his quarters in deep meditation, focusing upon a curious amulet dangling from his neck. Forged from Terran gold, it glimmered with warm light. Shaped like a disk, it was etched with meticulous microscopic grooves. These grooves were tesseracting patterns containing millenia of records and descriptions. Inscribed into its golden material both physically and psychically, was the human experience. Art, creativity, wonder, emotion, a copy of the human species' collective heart.
This was Iskandar's gift: the Singer's Talisman. A memento carrying tens of thousands of years of human culture into the future. Linked to the Primarch's soul, he could draw upon its power and wisdom while in turn adding new entries to its codex. All the gifts given to the Primarchs were priceless, yet the Singer's Talisman stood apart, only matched by Odafin's Smith's Talisman, which held a similar record of human innovation in value. According to the Emperor, the gold used in its crafting had once served a similar purpose. It came from a Voyajair cast into the void during mankind's infancy, and eventually recovered from the hull of an Orkish Space-Hulk nearly fifteen thousand years later.
Now it rested upon the Primarch's chest and thrummed with ancient power, matching the twin hearts of the demigod while the Primarch in question inspected the records of the art and culture of the Centauri Conclave in meticulous detail, analyzing it with his transhuman brain and the borrowed wisdom of the Talisman. While human in origin and nature, the encountered culture felt... off. Like it was distorted in some minor but significant way. This was not Chaos, but something else. Almost as if the cluster's civilization had been shepherded into its current form deliberately. The word that kept coming to Iskandar was 'parody'. As if the cluster was an exaggerated version of what was natural. Its religion, government, aesthetic, all distorted in some barely noticeable way.
Sharing these concerns with the Emperor, father and son prepared for whatever awaited them on Proxima. Psychic beacons were constructed and contingencies planned. If need be the Emperor could summon the Bucephalus at incredible speeds, latching onto the Cognatu Ferrum and pulling its gilded body through the Warp. This brute force method would be effective but could have unpredictable consequences for the vessel and nearby planetary bodies when it entered the Warp. As a further precaution, a spark of psychic power was gifted to both Primarch and Captain-General. Using this spark, they could signal distress in the Astronomicon's light, alerting the fleet to their needs.
Exiting the Warp after a scant few days of travel, the Custodes frigate arrived in Proxima. Unlike the grandeur of the Imperial Fleet at Komorokh, this single vessel was barely registered within the bustling cardinal system. Watching great convoys of mass-haulers and pilgrim barges dance between the celestial bodies, the Emperor could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Proxima held secrets that evaded even his sight.
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