[h3]Year: 000.M31[/h3]
[h1]The Aftermath of the Ullanor Crusade[/h1]
The destruction of Urlakk Urg’s remaining forces took little time indeed. With their leader dead at the Primarch Prometheus’ hands, the remaining Orkish forces were routed with contemptuous ease, as many of them falling to the axes and guns of their fellows as were slain by the might of humanity’s hammer of Armsmen and Astartes alike.

In due course, and with the dutiful scouring of each planet by the Imperial Army and the Legio Astartes - in particular the women of Daena io Azrael’s Doomsayers - not a spore of Orkish DNA could be found anywhere in the Ullanor System. It was said, therefore, that the Orks as a species could never threaten the Imperium so seriously again: its might was too vast, and no Waaagh! of significance could hope to form with the galaxy under the Emperor’s gaze. The greatest victory the Imperium had known to date, outshining even the Rangdan Genocides in scope.

With this, then, the Emperor declared that a great triumph would be held, on the very planet that had once been the Warboss’ center of power. It was to be renamed as Mundus Tropaeum on all galactic maps and records of the Imperial Tithe; it would be a trophy world dedicated to the victory of the Imperium over the Orks of Ullanor; and the celebrations to take place would bear humanity’s mark like nothing else could, an Imperial march beyond comprehension of any one mind.

Before such could come to pass, though, it first had to be remade. The next year of the planet’s existence would be dedicated to this task: the Mechanicum brought its full power to bear, sending forth geoformer platoons, with world-engines and mobile stone-burners and countless servitors, prisoner-slaves, and thralls, to reshape the very world in the wake of the devastation that had been wrought, an entire continent flattened for the occasion. As the centerpiece: a highway of solid granite, smoothed to perfection and crafted 5 kilometers wide and 500 long, with the skulls of countless Orks lining its edges all the way down the path, and Promethium lanterns fitted to cast light across all its surface. And at its far end, a mountaintop citadel of black marble and granite, crafted on Terra and transported piece by piece to its resting place on the newly-dubbed trophy world. A fitting pavilion for the Emperor, Primarchs, Council of Terra, and other members of the Imperial nobility.

In another time, this would have been the end of it. A march of armed forces greater than any that would be seen before or since. Yet, in this era, there were complicating factors in play - and discussions that needed to take place before the triumph’s eventual order could be planned.

[hr]

[h3]Year: 001.M31[/h3]
[h2][b]Before the Triumph of Ullanor[/b][/h2]

The room that had been created to host this discussion had been carefully constructed. It had to be large and stately due to the fact that there would be several Primarchs attending in person to have a meeting with each other alongside the possible presence of the Emperor himself if he decided to attend to the matter personally. It also had to be absolutely secure; The range of topics that the Primarchs might have needed to discuss privately among themselves were wide and many of them required the highest of clearances to even know about, let alone be informed of the details. 

There was also the matter of the unofficial rule for meetings between the Primarchs: While in the public eye, the Primarchs needed to show a united front. The Primarchs could not be seen publicly fighting or undermining each other because that would in turn undermine and weaken the Imperium and the chain of command. In private all bets were off, provided they refrained from actually killing each other.  

As he sat in a chair designed for him, Micholi’s expression was that of feigned ignorance. He was well aware of why one of his siblings would have called this meeting and the matter that was going to be discussed, but he was more than happy to leave some wiggle room to be surprised by something else taking the floor. There were other matters that were important that they might have wanted to discuss after all. 

As the door was sealed, there was a moment of pure silence in the chamber before Micholi decided to break it with a simple “I believe everyone is here. Shall we begin?”

Prometheus leaned forward his annoyance plain to see, something nearly unprecedented for those who know the Primarch. He sighed heavily. “To the heart of the matter then, I'll not have Xenos in the Triumph, it is not for the likes of them. However… I know that you will argue this matter in your ‘oh so reasonable’ manner until the last star burns out.” He stated matter of factly. “But... to what lengths would you go to force this issue I wonder?” he asked, his tone on the edge of threat.

Micholi’s face was blank of emotion as he turned to look at Prometheus. His words were calm and collected, but there was a finality to them that gave them weight. “As far as I need to, brother.”

Further annoyance crossed Prometheus’ face briefly. “I thought as much, I suppose then we shall be in this room forever arguing like ancient and senile senators,” said the Primarch dryly.

There was a small nod. “Indeed. So what is it going to take to get you to stand aside and allow proud veterans who have fought, killed and lost comrades in the service of the Imperium to take part in the Triumph without complaint or issue?”

“Without complaint? Even our father could not order such a thing. That said…” Prometheus began to outline a series of accomplishments and records of such exemplary standing that no unit in the Imperium could hope to achieve. “Those are the only Xenos worthy of attending.”

Micholi took a moment to look through the list that his brother was offering. The standards would be rather steep and would clearly reduce the number of xenos soldiers able to take part to a massive degree… but by cherry picking those individual soldiers who met the standards he could put together at least a squad of what would be some of the Imperium’s best and brightest. Pondering for a moment and looking through a data slate of his own, he slid it over the table to Prometheus.

The data slate offered some additional accomplishments and records that were clearly not on Prometheus’ list, but shared a similar theme; namely, all awards were acknowledgements of the saving of human life to various degrees. “While generally not as well remembered as those soldiers who take down great enemies or capture important objectives, I would argue that promoting those soldiers who have proven themselves via the protecting and saving of human life would still be acceptable to your beliefs.”

Prometheus frowned as he read through the data, It was a restrictive list to be sure, few would meet such a standard. However, these were soldiers, not aid workers, and a celebration of valor was the whole point of the Triumph. “Your list… certainly has a theme, and I am not so unreasonable as to not consider it. My concern is your list does not contain a single medal of heroism, valor, or even combat excellence. Any medicae in the Imperium could attend. Without unit distinctions of valor, their presence is unwelcome.” He concluded while sealing off the option of picking individuals of distinction.

“Would it truly be so terrible for us to offer the doctors, healers and medics of the Imperium the same honor and respect that we offer to its warriors?” Micholi asked with a surprising, if minor amount of good humor. Shaking his head slightly as he chuckled, he let out a sigh. “Very well… if these are the standards that you are going to impose on all units of the Imperial Army to attend, then so be it. If nothing else, it will ensure that only the best of the Imperium are in attendance.”  

Prometheus simply scoffed at the implication that medics are not deserving of honor, obviously that is not what the Triumph celebration is about. Otherwise he remained silent on the matter, allowing his brother the petty barb. 

“We are discussing Xenos, not the Imperial Army,” he said evenly as if this point had already been concluded.

“Are we?” Micholi asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked at Prometheus was something of amusement. “They are a part of the Imperial Army. Proudly serving the Imperium that they are a part of just like any other squad, regiment or otherwise. Yet, you would reject their contributions as if they were incompetent or their actions dishonorable and unvalorous. If anything, they have fought and worked twice as hard as most human squads to get a fifth of the recognition and respect.”

Prometheus leaned back and stared at the ceiling, Micholi’s praise of Xenos falling on deaf ears. [i]Perhaps there is another solution,[/i] he thought to himself, a bit underhanded perhaps but would serve the same purpose. Finally he shrugged. “Fine, in that case the Xenos must be situated in the rear of the Triumph,” he said, seemingly conceding that all units in the Imperial Army would be held to a similar standard as the Xenos. Though, he had no intention of following such a requirement, nor would any general in his favor need concern themselves with it. The Triumph celebration would be filled regardless. The Xenos though, they would necessarily fall under more scrutiny.

A small smile graced Micholi’s face as he answered “That is acceptable,” to his brother, even though he already had plans of his own settling into place to ensure that any... incidents were kept to a minimum going forward. With one of the bigger obstructions out of the way, he turned his head to gaze over and see if any other concerns were going to step forward and let themselves be heard now.

“Be lucky that Prometheus is more amenable than I, Micholi. Were it my choice, only the beings in the Triumph would be those of the Legions,” chimed Usriel, looking at Micholi. While his features were blocked by the helmet he wore, it could be easily deduced that he was scowling at the choice of the Primarch he had fought side by side with.

“And I thank you for your even handed approach Usriel.” was the surprisingly simple answer the scowling defender would get in return from Micholi.

A dark-armoured figure stirred in the shadowed zone at the further end of the room. Though he had returned to the system in preparation for the Triumph, Sarghaul had been remiss to attend the meeting in person. The Tartarean Primarch instead preferred to withdraw in meditation to the more remote battlefields of the system, still bleak and scarred from the titanic conflict that had been waged over them. In his stead, he had appointed one of his gene-sons to act as the Ninth Legion’s voice at the gathering. Elder Manceps Nuvornal, an overseer of abyssal war-beasts, had until then remained in the gloom as was the habit of his kind, but presently he moved a step ahead. Though he was dwarfed by the sons of the Emperor, there was something unnerving in his silence, only occasionally broken by fragments of churning breaths.

“Lord of the Second,” he inclined his head in a formal, if dry display of reverence as he addressed Micholi, “My progenitor bid me pose you this question in the presence of your brethren. If your inhuman auxiliaries have not fought for Ullanor, why should they reap its honours?”

Micholi sighed a little at the question posed by Nuvornal before answering “Because the Triumph isn’t just about Ullanor. It’s a chance for the Imperium to celebrate its best and brightest in general. After all, I’m guessing that your Primarch is not intending to exclude those Abyss Lurkers who came to assist my forces at Laeran just because they weren’t fighting orks here.”

The Manceps nodded again. “He shall hear your words,” he replied in the same dull, toneless voice as he withdrew once more.

“If this convocation of the holy and most high sons of the exalted and ineffable Omnissiah would, in their limitless grace, please momentarily recognize the voice of Archmagos Rarnet.” The heavily distorted crackle of a tech-priest’s voxcoder burbled. The speaker was one of the Mechanicum’s tech-priests, a veritable army of which had been sent to service and manage the technical aspects of the Triumph. Primarch Augor Astren, who was not in attendance and who had broached no objections, had offered his seat at the table to the Mechanicum’s representative - as evidently, the Mechanicum itself had an opinion or two on how the Triumph was to be held. “I have been charged with the organization and deployment of all blessed simulacra and other servitor-mediated functions and facets of the Triumph. I have a pertinent report of concern slash note slash condition contingent line errors regarding the xenos legions. In keeping with the most righteous and venerated doctrine, I will begin reciting the preface of my report; the most sacred of addresses of your peerless personnages and the glories and honors due to you. Estimated time to completion is four hours, thirty-three minutes, twelve seconds, and fourteen millisecon-”  

“Forgive me Archmagos, but while I cannot speak for my brothers, for the sake of time I will humbly request that you forego my titles, glories and honors.” Micholi offered politely. He did offer his siblings the chance to speak for themselves if they wanted the Mechanicum’s representative to flatter and praise them or not. “But otherwise you are acknowledged, feel free to address what is concerning you.”

The Archmagos’ voxcoder seemed to whir, click, and buzz for several seconds - perhaps the mechanical savant’s equivalent of a hesitant pause. “Doctrine does not require continued recitation minus complete fidelity to the breadth of all that is most glorious in its knowing. If there are no objections I shall proceed with my report.”

He waited pointedly for several moments for an objection that did not come before continuing.

“Oh holy of holies, Primarch of the Second Legion. Amongst the many Tech-Priests and others of our order who contrive and toil to make the Triumph possible, there has been unsettling discussion regarding the inclusion of your xenos legions. Inferences and suggestions of a plot to humiliate and degrade these exemplars of the lesser peoples under the infinite eyes of the Machine God, with automated dispensation of decaying produce and vegetative matter; reconsecrated holo-projection and transmission to either censure or else deface high-fidelity imagery of the same, etcetera, etcetera. While the speculated number of known and unknown actors in this matter are few, their numbers are great enough and the likelihood of their acting is high enough that it warrants due warning. The Prefecture Magisterium has already been alerted, and have issued an advisory that they are disinclined to investigate or prosecute as such conspiracy does not violate Mechanicum dogma.”

For a moment, Micholi looked at the Archmagos with a cool expression… before he nodded his head. “Archmagos Rarnet, I would first like to say that your dedication to the Omnissiah, though I personally will address its aspect as the Emperor, does you great credit. However, while I find your warnings and concerns of agents of the Mechanicum letting their personal feelings get the better of them within the realms of expectation, the news that the Prefecture Magisterium are intending to turn a blind eye to this matter is something of a concern.”

“After all, the Emperor is well aware of my intention to allow my Xenos legions take part in the Triumph and has made no objection to it. In fact, this Triumph is personally being overseen and the final approvals go to him. So the fact that the Prefecture Magisterium is ignoring reports that there are members of the Mechanicum who are actively planning to interfere and sabotage an event designed to capture a fraction of the glory of the Imperium, Mechanicum and the Emperor combined is… well, utter neglect.” 

“The second of the holy sons and daughters of the unfettered and immaculate Omnissiah is most wise and astute in his observations.” The Archmagos bowed so low so quickly that he nearly slammed his metal-plated forehead against the top of the great table the gathering was seated around. “The crux of the issue is one of great doctrinal argument and theological debate. The suspected actors are not behaving in good faith; they plan and conspire to such ends preemptively due to base and errant emotional fallacies. However, their supposed justification - which evades review, as they do not prostrate themselves before their betters to explain it as would be proper - is that the Omnissiah’s permission has not been expressly presented, as inclusion of the xenos legions is a right afforded to you by your most venerable and sacred of stations rather than a matter requiring the Omnissiah’s leave. The Prefecture Magisterium has no authority to castigate or consign such behavior; to act so would be in breach of their function. It is the Mechanicum’s recommendation that the Administratum and the Arbites be tasked with such instead, as their authority covers a breadth the Magisterium’s does not.”

“I see…” Micholi muttered quickly before taking a deep breath. “I confess, Archmagos, that under normal circumstances I would prefer to find a solution in which the Mechanicum policed itself. While I and my siblings are well aware of the respect and reverence that your organization places upon us, we are also aware that our positions and the requirements of the Imperial Truth that apply to us make our involvement with internal affairs of the Mechnicum… rather complicated. Might I ask your opinion on how the Treaty of Mars might interfere with the Administratum and Arbites handling this matter rather than allowing an internal branch of the Mechanicum handle this instead?”

“Highest and most glorious child of the chosen peoples, it is this humble Archmagos’ opinion that the Treaty of Mars would not represent a substantive obstacle to investigation and prosecution of these malfeasant actors.” The Archmagos’ voxcoder then fell into a series of low-pitched hums and clicks that subsisted for several seconds before continuing. “To be completely transparent however, I must forward warning that any external investigation, recommended by our most sacred institution or no, is unlikely to discover or deter the perpetrators due to rampant and obstructive emotional sentiment amongst the Triumph’s many operators. It is thus my personal recommendation that the only ward against such activity is not to tempt it. Though of course, your decision, just and total in its magnificence, is unquestioned as your sole and absolute right as a venerated emission of the Soul of the Omnissiah.”

“If I may,” Usriel began, looking to the Archmagos, “Should these actors go forth with what they are planning, it would be a slight against the Omnissiah. This is a time to celebrate him, the victories he has brought forth to us all as a whole. Send a warning, that if anything be attempted, that I shall investigate the matter personally and bring justice upon them. That should be enough to ward many away.” 

“Noblest and high-anointed nineteenth child of the Omnissiah,” Rarnet began, “Your reasoning is most peerless in its foresight, most crystalline and flawless in its structure, and doubtlessly reflects the infinite encompassment of all knowledge that is the Machine God. Such a measure would be efficacious. If you possess such willingness, begging your forgiveness for such impudence as to suggest action not considered prior, might you be willing to begin a preemptive investigation at the closing of this most sacred of convocations? The direct hand and presence of the Omnissiah’s children in the warding of such a matter would have great and immediately observable effect on such schemes and could feasibly waylay them entirely.”

After letting the question hang, the Primarch of the Steel Sentinels cast his gaze back to the Archmagos, “If you deem it wise for a preemptive investigation then I shall do so, wise one. Further, I would ask you to assist me in such an endeavor, if you’d aid me.”

The Archmagos replicated the first bow that had almost slammed his head into the table. “Holiest of holy champions, it would be my boundless joy and pride to assist you personally in this endeavor. May the Omnissiah beneficently grant us clarity and foresight unparalleled.”

Micholi carefully rose from his seat at the table, taking a deep breath as he calmly started to walk towards one of the nearby walls in thought. As he listened to Usriel’s suggestion and… actually took comfort in the fact that his brother would have his back on this, if for no other reason then because he wouldn’t let some upstart tech priests try to make a fool out of the Imperium. However, there was a way out of this situation in which a minor purge wouldn’t have to happen, there wouldn’t be a risk of the Triumph being sabotaged and the driving issue that forced this conversation in the first place would be kicked down the road. 

Asking his question aloud for anyone in the room to answer, Micholi asked “How many of the forces currently assigned to take part in the Triumph were actively a part of the campaign for Ullanor? What percentage of it belongs to other Imperial forces who are being honored for their actions and achievements elsewhere?”

“Because while I could never stand for any member of the Imperium whom had fought and earned the right to be acknowledged for their achievements, if the Triumph truly was dedicated solely for those who took part in the campaign for Ullanor then… it would be utterly rude of any of us to try and slip in forces that hadn’t taken part.” Letting this hang in the air for a moment, Micholi turned to face his brothers and the representative Archmagos. “Of course, for this to hold weight, [i]only[/i] forces that took part in the campaign for Ullanor can take part in the Triumph.”  

Usriel silently looked over to Micholi, uttering his words, “There were many of the Mechanicum that took part in the campaign for Ullanor, too many to accurately count. It is likely that whoever is a part of the plot has connections or was a part of the campaign. Your thinking is with flaw, Micholi. You look to those outside and not the ones already within.” 

Micholi took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “You’re right brother. For a moment, I let my concerns about ensuring that the Triumph happened without issue get the better of me. Even if we had accepted my compromise, it would not have fixed the bigger issue at play here. At best, it would have just kicked it down the road to be dealt with later. If you’ll have me, I would be happy to volunteer my time towards aiding your investigations however I can.”

“How well versed are you in the Canticles of the faith, Micholi?” Usriel inquired, his hidden face looking over to the other primarch.

“I suspect there are many that I have not been made aware of. However, the Night Watch is trained to be able to recognize situations where others can perform underhanded tasks.”

“Then should I require your aid I shall call upon it, for the time being, it may be best that I handle it myself as to avoid provoking any unnecessary issues,” Usriel said coldly before gesturing over to the Archmagos. “After all, I’m sure the Mechanicum would not like Astartes in their affairs. That said, I’m sure you yourself would provide an excellent unbiased thought in the situation as I had, like Augor, been raised with the Mechanicum’s beliefs.”

Micholi offered a respectful nod as he returned to his seat. “I will leave the matter in your capable hands then.” If he was talking to Uriel, the Archmagos or both of them at once was anyone’s guess.

Prometheus leaned forward once again. “A point has been raised several times that bears further exploration. Your Xenos did not fight on Ullanor, and there are elements of the Mechanicum that might try something against them. Furthermore, I know many Imperial Army units are not fond of the aliens. There are no plans I am aware of, but soldiers can get carried away, especially during celebration or if intoxicants have been found.” The Primarch rubbed at his chin in thought giving the appearance of deep consideration.

“It may be prudent to ensure that only those forces that participated at Ullanor attend, none of us would want an embarrassing incident to occur,” mused Prometheus, which would have the added bonus of possibly excluding the Night Watch Legion from attendance. He truly did not want an incident to happen, a drunken brawl or fire fight between a xenos and imperial army unit would be hard to hush up and ignore, especially with the Edict’s architect in the system.

Micholi shook his head at Prometheus’ words, even if they were merely raising the very compromise that he had suggested moments before. “Prometheus, Usiel has raised a point of grave concern. I have always known that the acceptance of Xenos races into the Imperial fold was always going to be a matter of contention. The fact that we’re having this meeting to begin with is clear evidence of that… but while one always needs to keep the emotional heart of humanity in mind, the Imperium demands a level of professionalism from its members.”

“It is one thing to hold negative opinions on the Edict of Tolerance or the Xenos races accepted by it; we could argue its flaws and merits between us for years in this very room and while I may disagree with all three of you on a number of matters, I would like to believe that there is enough mutual respect and professionalism between us not to let such disagreements effort our work towards the Crusade or spill out into the public eye. This organized group of Mechanicum personnel are fully prepared to sabotage an Imperial Triumph organised and attended by the Emperor himself because they have chosen to pursue their petty grudges over the good of the Imperium and the relationship between the Imperium and Mechanicum.”

That last point caused him to turn his attention towards the Archmagos. “After all, even if these individuals are working by themselves, they are still members of and represent the Mechanicum. Mechanicum personnel sabotaging an Emperor attended event would be a political incident. The last thing we all want is a rift between Earth and Mars forming…”         

The Archmagos’ vox-coder clicked, exactly once. This was then followed by a pause of precisely two seconds before the Archmagos answered, during which a flurry of vox-hails rebounded between him and several other members of the Mechanicum delegation. Though such a pause would have been well in keeping with baseline Humans, or even with most augmented Humans - it was telling for such a high-ranking member of the Mechanicum. Especially here and now, at that very meeting, regarding that specific topic.

“Agreed.” Rarnet buzzed. “Though of course, it goes without saying that if no Xenos Legions are present at the march, no such incident is predicted to transpire. As I have said. The hallowed nineteenth Primarch’s pending investigation notwithstanding, the most immediate and efficacious deterrent to such a calamitous mishap would, as stated prior, be to not tempt it.”

“True, but if these individuals are prepared to let their own agendas take precedence over that of the greater Imperium and Mechanicum that is an issue that needs to be addressed and if the Xenos Legions are no longer a presence in the Triumph, then they will simply slip back into the rank and file until another time. After all, if there is no need for their plans to be acted upon, they will likely just delete them and finding any evidence at all of who was involved would be next to impossible.”

Micholi paused for a moment to let that sink in, before suggesting a plan. “For the purposes of Usriel’s investigation, for the time being we need to keep the Xenos involvement in the Triumph. If they are uncovered in the process of the investigation and thwarted then there isn’t going to be an issue… but for the sake of stability, if the Triumph draws close and we are not in a position to deal with this situation I will reluctantly withdraw the Xenos from the line up, alongside those forces who fought at Laeran. Publically it will simply be a matter that the Triumph was for those who fought at Ullanor and had nothing to do with this offshoot of Mechanicum personnel.”

“That does not change that I will investigate the matter,” came Usriel’s stern voice, “A plot to undermine the Triumph, and the Emperor, is still a plot regardless of whether it comes to fruition. I have dealt with enough rebellion to know how such courses go.” The Nineteenth Primarch looked between Prometheus and Micholi before stating, “I say allow the xenos, those who showed up later in the campaign for Ullanor, even if located at the very back. Those who would play their hand will do so or they shall not, depending on whether I can curtail this. It will show us who is loyal to the Emperor and his victories, and who is not.”

Prometheus frowned slightly at Usriel. “A plot is unfortunate to be certain, but is it a crime if nothing ever comes of it? Besides, I raised another concern in that the Imperial Army troopers may, in their excitement, cause trouble. We all know soldiers fight or bicker amongst themselves, and if their blood is up death or serious injury is a possibility. With xenos this would be doubly true, there is little love for them among most of the Imperial Army. Would you suggest removal of all Imperial Army regiments to protect your precious aliens?”

Micholi looked at Prometheus for a moment as if what he said was the most naive, silly thing he had heard come out of his brother’s mouth. “Brother, we are speaking of soldiers of the Imperial Army who are going to be on parade in front of not only the Emperor, but the Imperium as a whole in the present as well as future generations. I am fairly confident that, even if the average soldier somehow didn’t understand the importance of showcasing their discipline and being on their best behavior for this occasion, there is a long line of officers, NCO’s and discipline masters who will want to make damn sure that the reputations of their respective units and regiments, as well as their own, are not tarnished.”    

“Assuming they themselves do not hold similar conspiracy in their hearts, noble Primarch,” Rarnet interjected. “Remember that the Imperial Army, while stringent and dutifully capable warriors, are made of a more common proverbial clay. These are not lawmakers nor zealous adherents to any faith. If Tech-Priests would fail to fully realize the scope of their responsibilities here in the Triumph, even the upper echelons of the Imperial Army may fall prey to similar sentiment.”

Micholi did have to concede the point a little, but he quickly countered “Oh, I fully suspect there would be many that would love to have the excuse of friendly fire to cover their actions. The difference between the Imperial Army in this circumstance and the Tech-Priests who are so concerned is that of anonymity. The Tech-Priests, while we intend to unmask them, have the benefit of being so distanced from the results of their actions that they might escape the consequences of them. Any soldier that started a shoot out or brawl during the Triumph wouldn’t have that benefit and there would be dire consequences for not just them, but the rest of the unit and regiment they were a part of. Doesn’t matter if the targets are xenos or other soldiers in this regard.” 

“I certainly doubt any soldier would act so rashly while any of us are on the podium much less our father, my concern with the army is before or after the parade itself there will be plenty of time for an unfortunate situation. Will you deploy and remove the xenos as a lightning strike team?” Growled Prometheus, his frustration growing.

“Enough,” Usriel said, annoyance now clear in his voice before looking to Prometheus. “Prometheus, I have fought side by side with you, our sons died side by side. Consider, just this once, to end this nonsensical discussion. The xenos, before or after the parade, is none of our concern, only the concern of their commanding officers.” 

He allowed a beat of silence before looking to Micholi, “I care not for the xenos, but this discussion has gone far enough and taken up too much of our Emperor’s time. After all, I doubt he cares about our squabbles.” Still looking at Micholi, he walked behind Prometheus before clasping a hand on his shoulder, “This is a time for celebration. A time of praise for Imperial victory as deemed by the Emperor himself. Enjoy yourselves lest you turn out like me.”

Micholi did not say much in response to Usriel’s words. Instead, he respectfully bowed his head and answered “Understood and well spoken.” before turning to look at Prometheus and the other representatives. “Before we adjourn, are there any other matters that anyone feels need to be raised while we’re all here?”

The armrest of Prometheus’ chair cracked as his frustration was taken out upon it, “Take your victory, but know you will make few friends forcing the edict down their throats.” he said gravely before he rose and left the room ignoring any departing words from Micholi.

As the contentious conversation finally drew to a close, a lone figure sat silently in her seat, having watched the proceedings impassively. Bound by duty and protocol, she remained as the quarreling demigods fell silent and left the room, listening to their parting shots with the same disregard that she had held the entire debate in. Girded from head to toe in finely wrought power armor, with a bone white death mask carefully sculpted onto her helm as a symbol of her office, Daena’s Equerry appeared to be a perfectly impassive figure, cast in the same mold as her gene-mother.

This was a carefully constructed lie, Yekterina Ascania having gained a newfound appreciation for her Primarch’s dramatic flourishes. She had been warned by no less than Daena herself that her assignment on Ullanor would test her beyond her limits, but she nonetheless found herself completely unprepared to witness the bickering of her “uncles”, the young woman - by Astartes standards at least, the Equerry barely into her second century - grateful beyond words that her expression had been hidden. Utterly concealed by a beautiful depiction of Daena’s face in the serene repose of death, it was unlikely anyone paid her any heed. Which was exactly as intended, the woman having been ordered to observe and report on the activities of the other Primarchs in their seclusion. Her first missive would be more eventful than she had anticipated.