Chapter Text
He sat behind his desk, tapping his fingers to an unheard beat in his head. The private quarters were silent except for the slight hiss from his gorget every now and then as he breathed in the air of his home world. His mind was still reeling from the events of the last few weeks. Prospero gone, he could not believe it, he had no love for Psykers but even so, genocide on that scale and against a Primarchs home world was unheard of. As much as he distrusted Psykers and, if truth be told there had been no love lost between himself and Magnus, even he would not have wished that. When Horus had sent out a missive to his brothers, that if they had any novitiates’ that had not yet been implanted with the Gene seed of their fathers and showed Psyker promise, then they should be sent to Kegara, to aid in the rebuild of the Thousand Sons. He had done more than that, those that had been implanted and yet showed signs of the Psyker he had immediately sent along with the Novitiates.’ In a way it felt good that he was helping rebuild his brothers decimated Legion, in another it was a weight off his mind that he did not have to deal with his own witch sons on his own doorstep. Now having recovered from that, the death of the Great Khan was a blow that none of them had foreseen.
It would have been laughable in a sense if it were not so chilling. Primarchs were the pinnacle of gene technology, they were immortal, to less enlightened minds they were Demi-Gods of war that strode the field of battle with their immortal sons bringing the Imperium of Man to heel. Now they were vulnerable to something that they did not understand. Something had been coated on that cursed hammer that Vulkan had wielded, and whatever it was, was an anathema to the Primarchs. Prevented their own unique healing from doing its job, the stress of battle with the – and this time he uttered a disbelieving laugh – undead warriors of Nocturne and Chogoris, proved to be too much. He doubted any of them would be complacent in their longevity now. He had never been close to his father, he had never forgiven him for the killing of his adoptive father when it had been his battle to win and yet, even he did not believe that his father would willingly accept the death of a Legions Home world, the crippling of a Primarch and now the death of a Primarch so off handily. What troubled him just as much was that Horus had had a big argument with the Primarch of the Ultramarines, what caused the argument he did not know as neither Primarch was forthcoming as to what had caused the argument. He had no real love for Guilliman; he found their method of battle restricting and, in truth, to one who prided himself on letting his captains and his sons think on their feet, he could not see how the Ultramarines had survived so long with their military doctrine. Then a secret voice at the back of his head answered his own thought for him, but of course we all know why the Ultramarines are one of if not the largest legion. He dismissed the voice angrily; it was not to be spoken off, even now.
He got up and looked out of his window. Space filed by lazily and for a moment he felt like he was on one of those ancient sailing ships that used to cruise the oceans of ancient Terra. He should have been content but he was not, he was troubled. For weeks now the Traitors had got a jump on the Imperial saviours. Somehow, they had information as to where the Legions of Horus would strike next in the battles to keep Imperial worlds Imperial or destroy those that were venerating the Emperor as a god. They had a leak within their Legions’ and whilst they did not know who or where, every Primarch was fearfully hoping that it was not one of their own sons. Just last week, his sixteenth Captain Mishoga Ostana had died on the planet of Jesarus IX against a force of Imperial Fists. The mission was supposed to have been secret and the 16th Company had been all but decimated. Even now some of those sons were in serious conditions on the Death Guard vessel Reapers Shroud. He just could not understand how the mission had leaked out. Only he and Perturabo had known about it, and Perturabo had lost two Companies. The Olympian was bellowing at the Imperial Fists who had hold up in a bastion giving the ancient Rivals more to work with and reducing them to their natural roles in siege warfare. The only regret that had been mentioned was that Dorn had not been there, and despite the losses the mission Intel had made him almost weep with joy for Perturabo.
He almost wished he had been there to see the master of Olympia take on the old rivals. He had told Ostana to do as Perturabo ordered that he was to follow the Olympian as he would his own sire. Perturabo had been most gracious in his words of honour following the death of the Captain and most of his company, and that in any roll of valour was enough to be proud off. Perturabo did not give out praise to other Legions very often. He was waiting now for the arrival of his brother. Together they would figure out if they had the leak within their own warriors or if it were one of the traitors posing as a member of Death Guard or Iron Warrior.
“My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion upon your privacy but you may wish to hear this message we have just received” The voice of the watch officer came over his vox.
“Relay it to me here Watch Officer Jarfara”
“Yes, My Lord, sending now”
He waited then listened.
“This is the Demeter, I am Custode Amon Tetromach, the last true Custode, I am asking for any of the true Imperial Legions to give me and my two companions’ safe harbour”
“Where is that coming from?” He demanded of the Watch Officer.
There was silence for a moment and then “Fifty degrees spin ward My Lord; we are within range to intercept”
“Do so, if a brother Custode has survived, then I want to see this for myself”
“By your will Lord”
Mortarion sat down and rested his thin fingers together. Something had happened for one such as Amon to be a fugitive from the man whose side he had never truly left. If Amon needed sanctuary, then he would find it aboard The Indomitable Will. If he were a spy then he would not be so merciful.
++++
Garviel Loken stood, staring out the window of the gigantic observation deck aboard The Vengeful Spirit. He sported a black armband, all the Mournival did, and it was their way of showing respect to a fallen Primarch. He did not want to believe what he knew now to be true, a Primarch had fallen, but it had taken his mind several days to process the knowledge, and then several days more to accept it as fact and not some fallacy made up an enemy’s propaganda. Gone were the days that he knew who the enemy was, it was no longer just the worlds that rebelled against the idea of Illumination, and although they still continued the Great Crusade, it was now bringing worlds into his Lords and his lords brothers banners, no, now the enemy was also those he once called Brothers-in-arms, cousins that he had fought alongside with pride and honour. He rested his head against the coolness of the glass, as if that action alone, could take away the horror of the last few weeks. He still could not believe that one Primarch lay crippled, Magnus of all the Primarchs to be laid so low had disturbed him greatly, but now the great Khan. He wondered what would happen if the same occurred to his beloved father, the great Horus Lupercal, would Abaddon be able to fill the void that would be left in such a wake? As Jubal Khan must now do for the Sons of Chogoris.
“Penny for them Garvi?”
He turned and straightened as Little Horus Aximand came into the bay. His Mournival brother joined his side and looked out the window with him. Since the becoming known of the treacherous behaviour of the fallen Legions and their own grandfather, the Mournival seemed to have become closer. He loved his Mournival brothers, but in the beginning, he was closer to Tarik, now since Venus IX he had forged a bond with Abaddon and Little Horus.
“I am just thinking that is all Horus”
Aximand nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. He too looked like he had the weight of the Primarch on his shoulders. Which indeed he did, like his other Mournival brothers and Malgohurst, the Equerry, they were doing all they could to lighten the Primarchs load, considering recent events. There was a companionable silence for several long moments then slowly, Loken broke the silence.
“I was wondering if we would know an enemy from a former friend, brother or cousin if the time came”
“How do you mean brother?” Aximand asked.
“I mean, when light of the Emperors new edict came out, some off our own brothers have renounced their vow to Horus and returned to Terra, the same with the Ultramarines and whomever else. Why would they do that after all that has happened?”
Aximand was silent for a moment or two longer, considering his brothers’ question and framing his answer in his mind. Of all the Mournival, Little Horus never did anything without thought or consideration, and that included discussions on more, sensitive issues.
“Perhaps the thought of renouncing their vows to their Primarchs was a lot easier than renouncing their vows to the Emperor, it is just a shame that it appears to be the Terran born Astartes that are returning to the side of the Emperor”
Loken had noticed that, when news had broken, the Terran Lunar Wolves had left The Vengeful Spirit and soon word returned to Horus that others had returned to Terra to be beside the Emperor. Horus had accepted it, after all the Lunar Wolves were Terran before Chthonia produced the Lunar Wolves. Abaddon had been almost incandescent with rage; he just did not want to believe that any of Horus’s sons could turn their backs on the Warmaster, regardless of where they were born. Loken did not blame him; he has seen some brothers leave his company, brothers that had fought alongside him for decades.
“Maybe, because they were beside the Emperor when he found Lupercal they believed their loyalties lay with him first” Loken surmised “Maybe Ezekiel has a point on that”
Aximand cast Loken an amused look “You know Garvi, there was a time when you would never have said anything like that”
Loken frowned a little, unsure of what his brother was saying, and then broke into a mild chuckle and nodded in agreement. Aximand chuckled with him, but the sound was harsh, like flint, such was the sound of the men of Chthonia.
“Come brother, the Warmaster wishes the Mournival to attend him; there is something he wishes to speak to us about before he tells the rest of the Legion”
Now intrigued Loken began to walk with Aximand “Are you going to tell me? I am assuming you know”
“Once I might have done, but not this time” Aximand admitted “This time Lupercal has kept this one to himself”
“Wonders never cease” Loken murmured and with his brother walked along the corridor talking quietly with him and wondering what news the Warmaster had.