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[i]High orbit of 20-63[/i]
[i]Strategium of the[/i] Redemption

Three thrones had been arranged at the back hall of the Doomsayer's [i]camera arcanum[/i], fit for demigods to lounge and gaze upon the holographic image of Praxia below. An entire wall had been dedicated to the effort, with a far more practical display of relevant strategic information projected from a hololithic tank in the center of the chamber. After pomp and ceremony, Daena's mind had turned to the work that was before them - the true work of rooting out the cause of this insipid insurrection. To that end, she had kept her own members of the war council to a minimum.

The Legion Mistress and Mistress of the Forge of the XIVth needed little introduction, both Vairya Kurus and Elise Hohenheim attending in full warplate that made no secret of their rank or station. More strange were the two men in attendance, one unaugmented and the other clearly Astartes. The mortal man wore the uniform of one of the Emperor's scientists and resembled Elise albeit on a far smaller scale, and was introduced as her twin brother Gustav. The odd man out wore plate marking him as a member of the Pact of the Lance, the Angel breezily explaining that she had chanced upon a detachment of their brother Primarch's Astartes without much to do. She was surprisingly tight lipped upon the details.

With introductions from her own council - and guest - finished, Daena's attentions fell upon Sekhmetara and Nelchitl. "I will be blunt, sisters. I am not here because you need assistance bringing Praxia back to compliance, I am here to ensure that another Praxia does not arise. I have reviewed your reports, and what I have read is disquieting in the extreme. I would know all that you would not trust to courier or astropath of this matter. All technical information on their arms should be directed to the Hohenheims, and you would have my gratitude if working examples of enemy technology could be delivered to them as well. We must root out who provided the rebels with such, they match no known models in the archives."

The Pact lancer spoke next. He was startlingly ugly, half of his face an oily pink burn scar, missing an eye, and his mouth was half-transfixed in a ghoulish grin due to missing skin around the teeth. He drooled as he spoke, but made an effort to wipe away the spittle with a handkerchief. On his face, the Raptor Imperialis was tattooed around his remaining eye. 

“I am Optio Markus Vulf, 3rd Army group of the Pact. Sad to say, I am the highest ranking Lancer in the detachment Lady Azrael found.” He rasped, his voice dry and whisper like, but much louder. “I fought alongside the ‘Sayers on Terra, before we found our gene-father. Mistress Kurus, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Consider me the old man’s eyes and ears for this meeting. Any requests for materiel or troops…”

He wiped away the spittle foaming from his mouth. “...will no doubt be given utmost priority.”

“I can speak for the efficacy of Optio Vulf and his Lig- [i]Lancers[/i] personally,” Kurus said after giving the Astarte a nod of recognition. “He earned his Raptor,” she explained laconically.

The grizzled Lancer laughed at the legion mistress’s verbal gaff, nodding his head at her explanation. “An old mark, but a powerful one. I wear it with pride.”

Nelchitl knew of Daena’s Doomsayers, knowing full well their positions and admittedly outdated honor rolls from the last time she had had the pleasure of being in their presence. But the likeness of the Pact Astartes was a new addition to her knowledge. A gnarled looking man, grizzled by war and the unforgiving nature of the tanks that her still mysterious brother so very adored. 

She waved a single hand to Kurus, “Your cousin needs little praise in front of me Kurus. If your scion deems him worthy of sitting at this table, it is proof enough of his worth.” she assured her as she studied the Raptor tattooed over his good eye.

“You honor me, Lady Cuamani, I will endeavor to uphold your high praise.” The Optio bowed his scarred head in acknowledgement of the praise. 

“However I wish to introduce my own council. As known as he may be, I fear he shows himself far too seldom to the majority of my siblings' most trusted members.” she stated with pride as she inclined her head to Daena’s daughters and Vulf. “Tech-Adept Octavian, Forgemaster of Elysium Mons and Representative of Mars to the Seventeenth.” she stated with a hand open to the hooded Martian standing silent vigil over her right shoulder.

Augmetics hissed as the statue moved for the first time since entering the strategium, the rhythmic clink of finely machined cogs and gears whispering from beneath his robes as Octavian bowed. A pair of exquisitely wrought arms of platinum rose from within their sleeves to form the Cog Mechanicum with mechanized precision, coming together with an obviously calculated clink of metal on metal.

“By the Omnissiah’s grace.” the Tech-Adept intoned to Daena and then Sekhmetara. His voice was like honey, surprisingly smooth and sweet as it was projected from some augmitter hidden beneath his hood.

Those who looked upon Sekhmetara in the time that introductions were flowing between the gathered parties beheld a side of her that might have been deemed unusual to those who did not know her well. The Mithran Primarch did not lounge, in fact she did not seem remotely at ease. The long flowing mane of her hair was bound in a complicated, but functional, weave of braids, the tips of its flecked with white and gold, a sure sign of the recent use of her psychic ability. Gone too were the ostentatious outfits of her planned social functions or the pride of her warplanes, instead her form was clad in a white body glove, accented with gold and black. The purpose of her garments were clear, various induction ports along the spine enabling her to interface with her artifacts of war to a far greater extent.

As the others spoke, she stood without warning, the smooth texture of the bodyglove flowing about her movements, framing her form perfectly but without any resistance, it was as much a second skin as it was an outfit. The Mithran’s eyes flashed with something approaching anger, but the focus of her attention was no one in the room. The Pakhetera had been hunting, soaring the traitorous atmosphere of Praxia as a part of the unceasing aeronautical war her legion had been fighting. Still her hazel eyes flickered with blue light as her iris display continued to detail after-action-reports and live feeds of the air campaign. The primarch paused her pacing as she beheld the vast view of Praxia. For a few long moments it was as if nothing else in the room existed, just Sekhmetara and the world who's kill she had claimed.

Then she turned, and her expression broke into a smile, nodding to those who had introduced herself. She strode back to her chair, but instead lent against the throne rather than sitting.

"You have a right to be concerned of this, sister." Sekhmetara waved one hand, interacting with the display to bring up a fragmented holographic recording. The picture was not clear enough to identify much in the way of details, but certainly depicted an engagement between astartes and mortal human forces. The engagement proceeded much as one could expect such a mismatch of ability, until a sudden flare of energy ripped through projection, flaring across one of the Astartes, before downing them. Vengeance was swift, but the rebels had certainly earned a kill strike.

"This was recorded by a remembrancer attached to the 912th expeditionary fleet. The 7th Chapter of my Legion is currently engaged in defending the Ulbix System from Orcish raiders, while elements of the human population have opted to use the opportunity to carry on the civil war compliance was supposed to have finished." Sekhmetara’s voice was far more even than her discussion of Praxia's rebellion. Ulbix had not been marked compliant by a fleet associated with her Legion. Resolving others' mess wounded her spirit far less. "There has been no suggested connection between Praxia and Ulbix before now, but it seems whatever force has emboldened the Praxians has a wider reach than this system." There was no sense of hostility between Sekhmetara and her sisters, but she was certainly competitive, and the web of remembrancers she had spread with her adoptive-sister's aid making a connection before her Sister’s close bond to the Imperial Regent was enough of a victory to steadily begin easing her out of the restless hunter's urge that still coursed through her.

“Forgive me my impudence for speaking out, honored Primarchs.” Optio Vulf once again rasped up, “But I do have ample experience with rebellious human populations, so to speak, and Lady Sekhmetara’s logic is sound. Populations do not typically rebel unless they have outside support from an entity perceived as being on equal footing with their enemy.”

He once again wiped spittle from his ruined face. “There’s no benefit to the human population of Ulbix rebelling against the Imperium when the Ork is pressing at their gates, unless they have a guarantee of protection from some other power. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and this… coincidence, I feel, is no such coincidence at all.”

“So our worst suspicions have been confirmed,” Daena said in a voice that carried a grim finality. The [i]our[/i] could only refer to her quiet consultations with the Sigilite, the closest the Angel had ever come to admitting such even to her siblings. The great hololithic image of Praxia on the wall-sized screen faded away in a wash of static and fuzz, soon replaced by the Segmentum Obscurus. Two angry red runes pulsed upon the screen, denoting Praxia and Ulbix.

“My own forces here are more powerful than they need be. A Chapter shall be sent to seek out our rebels’ benefactors. Assemble the Arcana when we are done here, Vairya,” she said, turning to the Legion Mistress as an aside. “Sekhmetara, my heart, keep your eyes open. And let me know if you loosen any tongues. I fear, Nelchitl, that I am going to ruin your sport. We require survivors.”

With a disappointed grunt Nelchitl sat forward in her chair, “I don’t always have to kill everything.” she stated matter-of-factly before turning her attention away from Daena and to the hololith of the Segmentum.

“With Praxia nearing its end, I would like to divide my forces as well.” she seemed to think for a few moments before a scowl grew across her lips, “I’ll keep my Serpents in reserve for now. I imagine there is little a rebellion can do to stand before your daughters Daena, and as remiss as I am to admit it, my Serpents and Auxilia require time to rest and refit…” she seemed pained as she continued, “Not to mention House Cadaval’s losses, far harder to replace than even my own. Time will do mine well, and if they are again required they will be made available.”

She shifted in her seat and gave a wave to Octavian behind her, “As I will be setting my forces in reserve once Praxia is complete, I offer Octavian to help with any supply issues he can handle with the Mechanicum. Though the Serpents rest there will still be a role for them to play while you all require it.” 

“I suppose that leaves me, then.” Vulf rasped. “I can’t really speak for dispositions, due to my humble rank, but, what I can say is that the Pact is… basically without work. Whatever you request from Father will probably be approved, as long as it isn’t something like…”

He shrugged. “The whole Legion? He wants to make a good impression on his siblings, so, if we have anything that will plug strategic gaps you’re worried about, it’s yours, up to and including our Superheavy assets. Fellblades, mind, fresh out of Martian storehouses.”

The mistress of the Tears of Dawn did not waver in her condemning stare at the projection of Praxia. Even her sister’s affectionate words did not pull her from her transfixed state. Her arms crossed over her chest, her stance almost petulant if it was not writ over the form of one of the Emperor’s own scions, the trim of her body glove flowing as she favoured the lean of one hip, before she exhaled in frustration.

"Finish the fight, then we can talk of reserves and support. I care not for what is next, but that this world will kneel." Her fingers flexed in place, wrapped as they were around her own opposing biceps, her own grip tightening as she beheld the object of her frustration. "Still they resist while three of our Father’s children wage war on them, the three of us!?" There was a snarl to her words which wasn't there before, a savage fury which seemed to bleed into the room, condemning all those around her as much as those truly responsible.

"I take this world within the day, find some wretch in the ruins for your questions." With her words spoken she was already moving, the fluid grace of her form belying the palpable tension of rage about her, the whites of her eyes bleeding to gold, vapour rising from her glowing orbs at her fury.

Vulf wiped his face once more, before chuckling to himself. “Good thing no one decided to tell her it was about to be four, then.”

Nelchitl, slightly taken aback by the anger on display, smiled. Her grin growing from ear to ear as she watched Sekhmetara stalk away, “The Serpents have fight in them yet sister, and I doubt House Cadaval would want to miss the fall of this disgusting rebellion.” she stood, her hands coming together as she wrung her knuckles where she stood, “No. They’d very much hate that.” the Emerald Priestess turned to Daena, her eyes alight with anticipation as her smile widened, “Loose us on that last wretched bastion of resistance. We finish this today, no more talk now Daena.” 

Behind the Emerald Priestess, Octavian stirred as the hum of cooling fans filled the space around him, his eyes blinking as he recorded the events unfolding and streamed them directly back to the Headquarters of the Seventeenth Legion. “The Omnissiah’s Will be done.” he blurted in a lightning fast burst of lingua technis.

Daena sat upon her throne with a dour expression as Sekhmetara left the chamber, her daughters mirroring her clear displeasure. “So be it then. Ready your Astartes, our sister will brook no delays,” she said to Nelchitl and Vulf without looking at them, eyes fixed on the Mithran’s retreating form.

“It will be done.” Vulf said simply, and bowed his head. With that, he also left, carrying the promise of the support of the 10th legion.

[i]Some time later[/i]

The [i]camera arcanum[/i] had finally been emptied of foreign presences, all those remaining having sworn dire oaths in service of the Legion and its Primarch. Though few of her siblings matched Daena in her rigorous application of the Imperial Truth, even she retained affectations of her upbringing - trappings of the heathen temples of her youth. The Arcana was the most blatant of these, and the most hidden, its existence generally unknown outside of the ranks of the Doomsayers.

Membership rotated according to the inscrutable whims of the Deathseer, but those within the Praetorate and in command of a Chapter typically expected to attend to her in [i]camera[/i]. Rumors swirled within the lower ranks how the remaining seats were filled, the most popular two insisting that Daena either could not foresee the woman's death or that she had seen a particularly auspicious one.

Traditionally, a full Doomsayer Arcanum consisted of thirty-six seats. Ten of these were filled by rank Astartes, another four by junior officers. A further twenty consisted of Praetors, Ladies-Commander, and other distinguished figures who had drawn the Primarch's eye - she herself sitting in the foremost throne. Directly opposite her was the thirty-sixth seat, in which currently sat an effigy of one of the leaders of the Praxian revolt.

Her Praetor Primus, Legion Mistress, Librarus, and Mistress of the Forge were all granted the honor of the upper rung of seats - along with the Ladies-Commander of the Chapters who had followed her here. It was a scanty order of battle, eight seats filled by mere Lieutenants Commander. But it was none of her Astartes that currently held Daena's attention, the Primarch's eyes locked upon her mortal Lord Engineer.

"As I was saying, my lady, the initial reports from your lady sister's tech-adept are... less than helpful." Gustav gave a quick apologetic shrug to his twin sister, though her elevation to an Astartes had somewhat muddled the resemblance, before continuing. "The Mechanicum has done distressingly little practical work upon the pieces of technology they've recovered intact, most of which was already included in the initial report. If I had time to work with the components I could perhaps discern certain... fundamental principles."

Elise snorted at her brother's dissemination, the Astartes shifting in her seat to face her Primarch. Though she still wore the cog-skull upon her armor, the Tech-Marines of the Doomsayers had never been fast in their faith even before their Primarch was rediscovered and she was little better. She and Gustav had established a working fiction under which she only worked on sanctified technology and 'fundamentals' while he - protected by the explicit permission of the Emperor and unbound from the Mechanicum's tenets of faith - busied himself with activities some might declare heretechal. But as polite as that fiction was, it was still merely a fiction. "My lady. Give my brother and I a month with their wargear and you shall know whether or not we have fought these benefactors in the past."

"Done. Gustav, the Tupelov trust you and your engineers. They will not ask questions if you ask their Lancers to bring you choice spoils. Elise, I trust your own subordinates do not require further orders," Daena said flatly before turning her attention to the assembled commanders of her Chapters in theater. In this most intimate of meetings, she did not bother hiding her emotions, and her expression swiftly turned sour.

"My beloved sisters have their blood up. Our original plan for this excursion has been scrapped. We will reinforce the Tears and Serpents as they assault the last holdouts of rebellion, and we shall show them what our judgement entails. Bring only your Raptors, the remainder shall fill the garrisons that Sekhmetara and Nelchitl will empty. I do not trust this world to give us victory so easily, but nor will I bring less than our best to my sister's party."