[center][h1]The Council of Nikaea[/h1][/center]
[center][h3]The Ancillary Meeting Hall[/h3][/center]
[center][h3]During the Adjourning Period of the Main Chamber...[/h3][/center]
[h3]Year: 001.M31[/h3][hr]


During one of the many interim breaks of the Council sessions hosted in the central chamber of the Nikaean Conclave, all of the Primarchs had relayed to them a message inviting them to attend a gathering in one of the many large side-chambers of the building.

[b]...pray you shall attend in order to review and discuss a matter of import to the Crusade, pertaining to the species of xenos known to man as the Eldar. A great campaign against their kind within the Ultima Segmentum as has never been levied before is presently being formulated by the Astartes of his Omnissiah’s Twelfth Legion. All other legions are hereby offered the opportunity to lend their valued aid and assistance, as well as to evaluate and assess the scope and designs of the campaign itself. The Omnissiah, in his infinite reason and beneficence, has graced this campaign with his personal blessing. Ultimate victory, although preordained and inevitable, will still be hard-fought and worthy of the efforts of us all.

For the Unity of All Mankind, and the Sovereign Fate of the Chosen Peoples of the Machine God,

-Augor Astren
Primarch of the Twelfth Legion[/b]

Daena reviewed her brother’s entreaty from within the state room that she had sequestered herself with a dull look, tossing it aside after a long sigh. “Perhaps something can be salvaged of this,” she muttered to herself, turning her head towards one of her daughters. “Summon Ascania and send her in my place, I have no desire to see those who would be excited for such invitations,” she ordered.

“We shall continue with the preparations my beloved sister has advised,” the Mistress of the XIVth whispered, her attention focused on the furthest thing from a war against the Eldar.

[hr][center][s]888888888888[/s][/center][hr]

The side-chamber in question that the Primarch of the Stargazers had elected to host his conference within was reasonably large, not altogether smaller than the main chamber of the conclave, with tremendous doors and ample space for the other Primarchs and their respective cohorts. The furnishings therein consisted of a single massive circular table that bordered the perimeter of the columned rotunda, with benches, seats, and a number of thrones all carved from the same dark wood the architects had favored lining its perimeter and facing inwards. In the large hollow of space in the midst of the chamber, a large pict-caster sat, presently displaying a holographic view of the Galaxy and its four segmentums. The device was attended to by numerous Mechanicum Enginseers, and standing abreast the columns of the room were a number of imposing Kastalan robots holding aloft crimson ceremonial banners emblazoned with the sigil of the Aquilla Mechanicum. Augor Astren himself already stood at the rearmost region of the long circular table, forgoing the use of any seating due to the bulk of his servo-harness. He spoke freely with the Archmagos Mephitor, who had taken the privilege of seating themselves in the throne Augor had declined to make use of. The Primarch’s Archmandriture Mercaerath Kyrius stood at the Primarch’s side, calmly surveying the room. No other senior members of the Stargazers’ Legion appeared to be present, save for Augor Astren’s designated honor guard and personal staff of Tech-Priests who swarmed and bustled about the far end of the table, pouring over data-slates and exchanging info-runes in preparation for the upcoming meeting.

The first to arrive was a single Astartes, the Master of the Forge of the Steel Sentinels, clad in his off-white tabard with two servo-arms protruding from him back as he entered the room. The gauntlets of his armor seems to be scorched, presumably from the plasma that the Steel Sentinels worked closely with. He was flanked by two other tech-marines of the Steel Sentinels, each with matching tabards, but heads bowed as they walked after Aschwin, the Master of the Forge. 

“Greetings, Gene-Uncle Augor Astren, Blessed Son of the Omnissiah. I am Aschwin Von Braun, head of all Tech-Astartes within and the Steel Sentinels,” the Astartes stated in lingua-technis, his cogitators giving perfect pronunciation of the words. The Tech-Marine bowed to the Primarch for a moment, spreading his arms wide as he addressed him, “Father Usriel sends his regards. On his behalf I shall speak to you.”

Augor Astren replied in turn with a lightning-quick burst of Lingua-Technis in response, the cracking-static burst of conversation between the two transpiring in less time than it took for a pin to drop. [i]“The favor of the Omnissiah be with you, nephew. May the blessed perfection of the machine free you of all frailty and uncertainty.”[/i]

Augor then reverted to normal speech in High Gothic. “I acknowledge your status as the proxy of the Primarch of the Nineteenth Legion. When you return to your father, be sure to bring with you a few data-slates my staff will provide. The most venerable Usriel Andredth has the insight and knowledge to make worthy contributions to this cause where others might not - and of course, pass on my regards to him in turn.” 

“As you wish, Gene-Uncle Augor Astren, Blessed Son of the Omnissiah,” the Forge said, raising himself though keeping his head bowed as he, and his retinue stepped off to the side to allow for other Primarchs or their proxies to enter the room.

It was not long until the telltale echoing of behemoth footsteps made the wisdom of that evident. Wide as the doorway had previdently been built, its breadth was almost wholly filled when Sarghaul and the two Lictors at his sides crossed through it, the Terminators almost demonstratively bringing themselves abreast with their gene-sire so as to build a greater wall of umbral battle-plate. They remained half a step behind as the Ninth Primarch approached the table, raising a claw in a sluggish halfway greeting.

“Hail to you, Augor,” he rumbled, a shade of good humour palpable beneath the metallic tinge of his words, “Too long have the wraiths skulked outside our reach. It is high time we culled them as we ought all the inhuman. If that is your design, we shall stand behind you in force.”

“That is the [i]expectation[/i].”Augor agreed, oddly accentuating the third word. “These xenos shall find no respite where it does not service our purpose, and if the favor of the Omnissiah is with us we shall doubtlessly procure additional intelligence as to the locations of their insufferable worlds and…” He paused for a moment, then broke off. “I get ahead of myself. You and yours are most welcome at this gathering, Sarghaul, and with your might the wretched Eldars’ fear of us may soon grow to match their disdain. Please take your place, more are to arrive soon.”

“The closer it brings us to stamping out their kind, the better,” the Tartarean nodded, “But even crushing one of their nests shall be a victory.” With those words, he trudged aside, coming to stand beside one of the thrones and resting a hand upon its back.

Following the arrival of Sarghaul was a small delegation from the Night Watch made up of General Nelinho and two marines that were escorting him. While the 2nd legion were known for avoiding the pomp and prestigious displays of some of the other legions, Nelinho himself had opted to ‘dress up’ for the occasion, the servo harness he was wearing having not only been well maintained, but also bearing the weight of prestige as one of the first of its kind to be developed for usage by the first generation of tech marines of the legions. 

Offering Augor a deep bow, there was a burst of Lingua-Technis as he announced himself [i]“Greetings honored Primarch of the twelfth legion! I am Tech Marine Nelinho, General of the First Division of the Night Watch Legion. My Primarch Micholi requested my presence here due to him currently organizing how best to fulfil his promise and obligations to the Twentieth Legion. However, he will be here in person as soon as he can, because the Eldar are a scourge and this meeting holds great personal value to him.”[/i]

“The circumspect and skillful stratagems of the Second Legion will be invaluable in matching the recreant and elusive cowardice of the xenos, honored nephew. Your father’s expertise and scorn for the Eldar are both welcome in this gathering. Please, find your places, the briefing will begin shortly.” Augor inclined his head to the Tech-Marine in turn, speaking in plain gothic - presumably for the benefit of the others already present in the room.

Raising himself from his bow, Nelinho still offered a slight bow of his head as he answered in plain gothic “Of course.” before leading his brothers towards their seating.

Soon after, a single figure entered the room. Diminutive relative to the stature of the Astartes and primarchs assembled before her, the solitary form of Ayushmatki Nanavna izva Kuznekhtinsk entered through the door, dipping her head slightly in acknowledgement of the Primarchs assembled within the room and to Augor in particular. She made no specific greetings as she silently took her place, positioned out of the way on the far side of the room. As silent and unassuming as her entrance was, nobody rose nor spoke to her in greeting, and the only thing that marked her entrance and place was a single Servo-Skill that buzzed over to her end of the room, fixated on her for a single moment - doubtlessly taking a pict-recording of some sort, ostensibly to verify her identity - and then flew away.

It was a few more moments until another would enter the chamber, fresh from the hustle and bustle of the central Council Chamber, and more than ready to discuss something of actual interest to him - something beside the integration of alien species into the Imperium of [i]Man[/i], indeed this time it was to confer with his fellows about the very opposite… and Kaelianos could not have been more pleased, after all it was what he had been crafted for.

He came alone and without ceremony, as always was his way with etiquette and the like, his face shimmering with an inner energy that appeared to illuminate his outer self most radiantly.

“Ah, brothers!” He called with a chuckle, opening his arms wide and stepping forward to grin from ear-to-ear at Augor, his mechanical-minded sibling, and Sarghaul… his more… unusual one. Next he spun on one heel and gave a half bow to the gene-brothers of his own legion, those Astartes sent by their Primarchs in their own stead. Lastly, but certainly not leastly, his eyes moved to Ayushmatki Nanavna izva Kuznekhtinsk - this augmented being, furthest from the table and from all others within the room, no doubt wished to remain unseen, unfortunately for her Kaelianos was as observant as he was handsome.

“Hail to you, Ayushmatki, and to your Primarch who sends you in her place. Long may she serve and prosper.”

Giving a shake of his body, like a runner preparing to sprint the full length of a track, he instead strode with as much vigour as was always his to a spare seat around the rim of the circular table, making sure to note the banners, Mechanicum constructs, and Augor himself with a sweep of his aqua-blue eyes. 

“I am pleased to welcome the most esteemed Primarch of the Eighth Legion to these proceedings, Kaelianos. All true servants of the Emperor shall flourish in the glory of this new campaign and I, for one, am honored by the prospect of being able to fight by your side in this ensuing conflict.” Augor directed a full, beaming smiling at Kaelianos.

Further by the table, the Tartarean motioned in greeting with a taloned hand, wheezing a “Well met, comrade,” as he did.
A golden mask broke open the portal into the room, the thin slits hiding the blue/green eyes. The mask's face was engraved, not into the look of a face but with flowing branches. Tears of red amber were dotted at the eyes going to the mask's square lips. Ahgnemir took long strides, his hands opening to the assembly, primarily to its host. He took a deep breath and smiled, "Augor!" bellowed out the man.
Robes of white, covered in red runes, fluttered through the air as two groups moved on either side of him. On his right, a circle of nine Astartes with a Hyena Banner. The bannerman in the center, the eight men on the outside, looked like ragged brutes and barbarians. Axes hung at their sides, as well as skulls and cloth papers with runes etched into them.
Four men stood in a square to his left, the first man on the left holding a banner of an Eagle swooping down as if it was about to strike its next meal. The four men looked beautiful, pomp and proud, unlike their kin on the right side of their primarch. The man on the right held a hefty tome, gilded in golden leaves and jewel flowers. The binding of it was beautiful, formed of dark leather. The front and back were black, worn, but perfect in all regards as they did what they were intended to do, hold the pages and the decorations
Silver lettering, in Chatti, wrote the title, but copper wrote the subscript and author's name. In all reality, the book was a history book, a compilation of the finest poems, plays, and literary works through history, including that of Shakespire, Gyrodon, and many others. The back was blank but for scriptures of family, history, and most importantly, the hope of humanity and its place in the galaxy.
The orbs behind the mask traveled to the kin around the room. "I am sorry, for I have only brought something for our host tonight… The book of the Emperor and the Anthology of Human Perfection Through History."  This book was a religious text at the beginning and a cover story in the back. Taken from his homeworld's old faiths and the meeting of his father, his heart was spilled through it. However, the back did hold an impressive amount of beautiful works of literary art and history.
The Astartes turned and knelt as the book was held up above him, his gene-father lifting it once again and holding it high above his head before lowering it down. "This is no personal gift typical of me, and there will be several to be given to those close to me, and I implore you to continue to add onto it… Find works that are beloved by you, and add to it…"
Strides were taken by the Primarch of the First, the thick padding of his shoes leaving little to no sound as he made his way towards his brother until he was almost upon him. Then his head bowed, "Brother… this is nothing like a typical gift for you or our siblings, but it is what I have to offer." 
“With awe in the face of your boundless generosity, I accept your gift and welcome you to this gathering, brother Ahgnemir.” Augor bowed his head faintly in veneration. 

One of the Tech-Priests attending the holo-Caster in the center of the room abruptly turned, emitting several perplexed voxcoder grunts before murmuring - lightly but not so lightly as not to be heard - [sub]”The Twelfth does not even have eyes, what use is such a gift?”[/sub]

The same Tech-Priest was summarily smacked across the upside of his metal cranium and sternly instructed to return to their duties by the attending Magos, whose voxcoder blared at the offending Enginseer with a puttering whirr of static.

“You and your honored family are most welcome in this gathering. Please find your places - we will formally commence shortly.” Augor finished.

The thirteen Astartes Ahgnemir had come with did slowly file in, first the four on the left, then the nine on the right. They had filed into a small area that they believed would be suitable for the reunion of brothers and the ritual of giving gifts. The four stayed stoic, and they were graceful in their appearance. None were chosen, but they did show the beauty of the legion. The other nine chosen looked like beasts in the armor; thankfully, they were suited for war. They were ready to be given the order.

Ahgnemir smiled under his mask and left the book there as he retreated towards his men. When he was in front of them, he turned to his other brother and cousins. He was glad to see them all, and they were his kin, his blood, and beloved by at least him. However, he was hurting inside, even if he was happy with his brothers accepting such a meager gift. The fact that those of blood there were not going home with anything pained his soul deep down, and he hoped that it would not decay relations as he had seen between other siblings.

Another Astartes had taken advantage of the great mass of new entrants, though if her arrival was subtle her costume was not. Yekterina Ascania, Equerry to the Primarch of the Doomsayers, stood at the back of the room, near Ayushmatki . Where the XIVth had, to a woman, arrived at the original convocation dressed in the robes of officials of state she now stood resplendent in the armor of the Legion. As was the custom, her face was covered by a death mask depicting Daena in serene repose.

Since Malcador had called the grand hall to recess, the Doomsayers had as a body remained aloof and apart from all save their closest of allies and no exception was made here. Ascania greeted no one, intent on remaining nothing more than a mute observer of Augor’s designs.

Again, the portal to the room opened. If inquisitive eyes chose to look, they would see two large men, clearly Astartes, and one much smaller man, a baseline human, enter the chamber. All three of them wore a clean, pressed khaki uniform that were identical save for decorations, but it was the patch on the shoulder that identified them. They wore the yellow shield of The Pact of the Lance, one of the newest legions to have been brought back into the fold. 

The first Astartes was a jovial looking fellow with a shock of frizzy, red hair that poofed from his scalp like an afro, the second bald, dour, with a mustache and an augmentic eye. The third man, the human, was clearly old, but walked straight-backed, with no limp, clearly a recipient of some kind of juvenat treatment. The Astartes with the red afro spoke for the party once they had taken up some empty space in the center of the room.

“Gene-Uncle Astren, our father Wode sends his regard.” The man spoke with a clipped, precise accent. “I am Praetor Liebowitz of the Pact’s 4th Army Group, the Geniuses. This is Centurion Howler, of the 3rd AG, that’s our artillery complement, the Redlegs, and Praetor Imogen, of the 5th AG, he handles personnel and training.” He pointed to the mustached Astartes, Howler, then the human, Imogen. “Wode apologizes for not being here, but rest assured, he has sent us to appraise your operation and offer what support we deem necessary.”

All three of them dipped their heads in respect. In truth, Wode, who was not present in the room, was not eager to delegate anybody to the grinding attrition of siege warfare, but, family being family, some effort had to be made to keep relationships strong, especially when the Pact was the unknown quantity. 

“Please be sure to send my regards in turn to your most esteemed Legion-Master and Father on my behalf come the close of this meeting, Praetor Liebowitz.” Augor replied, raising a hand in greeting. “The Pact of the Lance will, I guarantee, find much opportunity to prove their worth and to claim untold spoils of conquest during this campaign. Please, be seated - I will shortly be calling this meeting into session formally.”

The Lancers chuckled at this, all of them taking their proffered seats. Howler spoke as he sat, pulling out a chair for Imogen, who sat next to him. 

“We’d all love some trophies from the Eldar xenoforms to hang in the Veteran’s Hall on Salient, for sure, Lord Astren.” Howler rumbled, sounding like a diesel engine himself. 

“Centurion, please.” Liebowitz said with a smile, “It’s not proper to -say- that’s the only reason we’re here so early in the meeting, come now!”

Praetor Imogen, for his part, looked into the middle distance. “Apologies Lord, I swear I beat manners into them durin’ trainin’, I did.”

“Soldiers will be soldiers, and all men possess their foibles Praetor. The want will not suffer for a lack, of this you may be certain.” Augor replied with a faint smile. “So long as those foibles are leveraged in the service of Mankind and the Imperial Truth, you and yours are welcome to such.”

The Lancers rumbled their assents, pleased with how the meeting was going so far. Sensing that they were about to come to business though, they quickly brought out datapads and set ready to take notes.

A few more minutes passed in the chamber, the sound of quiet, ambient chatter and the technical ministrations of the Enginseers commingling in the air in a manner common amongst speaking halls. Then, the Primarch of the Twelfth Legion made a gesture with one of his bionic hands. The lighting in the room dimmed, and three low electronic chimes were sounded from the vox-relays scattered around the room to call for attention.

“By the authority vested in me as the Primarch of the Emperor of Mankind’s Twelfth Astartes Legion, I hereby convene this gathering and call it to order. Once more, welcome one and all, faithful servants and champions of the Imperium who have gathered here today. The purpose of this gathering is to discuss a great campaign to be waged against the Eldar that the Twelfth Legion has formulated. Rest assured that this shall be no war against their far-flung and sporadic maiden worlds or their disparate and elusive raiding fleets - this shall be a blow to one of the pulsing hearts of the Eldar species. This shall be a campaign to lay siege to, and capture intact, one of the fabled Aeldari Craftworlds.”

He made another gesture, and the lights in the chamber dimmed even further. The holo-caster in the middle of the room adjusted and projected a large, full-color image of the Craftworld itself.

[center][img]https://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/1/11/Iyanden.jpg[/img][/center]

“This Craftworld, which we have Codenamed ‘Iris,’ is located in the Ultima Segmentum. It has run afoul of a singularly unfortunate turn of circumstances that has left it exposed and vulnerable to an amassed Voidborne assault.” Augor began. With a number of discreet gestures he began adjusting the holo-caster display to zoom out and display a regional map of the nearby sectors.

“It was first discovered by long-range augur probes and scans more than a century ago, not too far from its current coordinate position. It is speculated that its original region of prominence was in this zone, here-” The holo-caster oriented around a Dark-Space sector, which included a massive and evidently still-active Webway gate, large enough for the Craftworld to have slipped through.

“However, this region has been embroiled in a particularly fearsome and turbulent warp storm for the past seven decades and shows no sign of relenting.” Augor continued. He then adjusted the holo-caster again, pulling the view back to show other nearby sectors centered around the craftworld.

“The next nearest Webway Gate of sufficient capacity for Iris is more than 7,000 Lightyears distant. There is a closer one a mere 300 Lightyears away in Sector Phi-094-ka22, but it was notably overtaken and largely destroyed by an Ork incursion that stripped it for raw materials and scrap in 922.30m. Iris’ current heading has been calculated and devised, unchanging, for more than six decades now, and the Ordo Astranoma has taken great pains to surveil its movements, the movements of its defense armada, and the expanses of space surrounding it. For all intents and purposes, Iris is trapped in this reach of space and is a long way from the nearest safe harbor. As of 941.30m it has charted a course through a dense interstellar nebula as part of a regime to conceal its exact location and to service the activities of its defense armada, but as we were able to predict this course of action it has posed little obstacle to our surveillance and we were also able to thoroughly chart the nebula itself prior to its arrival. Our tacticians and Logi have given a 97% chance estimate with a negligible margin of error that Iris’ predicament is genuine and not some pointlessly esoteric ploy by the Eldar for one of their typically inscrutable purposes. Since 985.30m, the Ordo Astranoma has begun assembling a plan to lay siege to Iris and capture it intact.”

The holo-caster zoomed back in to focus on the craftworld itself. “The Mechanicum has, to this date, had precious few opportunities to examine and either sanction or consign Aeldari technology. The goal of this operation is therefore to take the Craftworld intact and undamaged as possible, to be thoroughly examined and eventually dismantled by the Mechanicum. The campaign is to be waged in six discrete stages.” 

The holo-caster highlighted the craftworld’s massive fleet-portal situated on its ventral hull, and also began to display a number of Aeldari ship designs and formations.

“First, we shall assemble our forces and commit to a multi-pronged approach towards Iris. It has a significant defense armada and, as you all may have gathered, will likely call for substantial reinforcement through its own webway gate. We estimate its current defense armada to be equivalent to no less than fifteen Chapter Fleets in size, and projections indicate that number could potentially double. Approaching and subsequently cloistering the Craftworld proper is estimated to take between several months to years of fleet maneuvers, engagements, and skirmishes. What we can be certain of is that Iris’ defense armada will face total annihilation before they permit any of our craft within visual distance of the craftworld itself.”

The depicted Eldar vessels then vanished from the display to refocus solely upon the craftworld.

“Once Iris has been successfully enclosed and cloistered by our joint campaign armadas, contact will be established with the Craftworld’s high command and a demand for their unconditional surrender will be issued. This offer will be made solely on the remote and unlikely possibility that they might accept, allowing us to seize the Craftworld without risking any damage whatsoever to it. Our Logi predict such an outcome is so unlikely as to be all but foregone of course, and so once they refuse to submit themselves to the mercy of the Emperor, we will proceed to the next stage. We will consolidate our armada forces, identify and devise plans for a number of predominant points of entry and secondary boarding areas for the purposes of screening, and perform a number of focused breaching operations with the intent of establishing secure footholds and command posts within the Craftworld interior.”

Augor paused for a moment to let all he had said sink in before carrying on.

“The Ordo Astranoma, as part of its preparatory efforts for this campaign, has captured and interrogated more than four thousand Aeldari colonists, raiders, and fleet personnel from various ports and regions of the galaxy in order to procure intelligence as to what sort of environment to expect within the Craftworld. Little to no useful information was obtained during these efforts. The Ordo Astranoma’s armada had already been arrayed and outfitted to accommodate a wide breadth of possible interior conditions, but we will essentially be mounting footholds inside alien and completely unknown environs. A great deal of advance preparation and measures will need to be taken to make our initial beachhead operations secure.”

“Once our beachheads are established, we will then sweep through the craftworld and eliminate all Eldar and Webway apparatus we encounter. What areas of Iris cannot be seized and confidently held will either then be destroyed, or else rendered inimical to the Eldar to enter by the Ordo Astranoma’s esteemed Vanguards amongst other options of tactical denial.”

“Once we have established nominal control over the entire Craftworld and have affirmed that no remaining Webway connections onboard are active, a final series of sweeps to confirm and consolidate control will be made, after which several Ark Mechanicum fleets will arrive with requisite Mechanicum personnel who will then begin investigating and dismantling the Craftworld itself. It bears mention that the Emperor himself and his immediate staff have taken a great interest in the results and body of any discoveries the Mechanicum shall be making therein.”

Augor Astren then clapped his hands. The lights in the room returned to full illumination, and the image of the Craftwork shrank and lowered so as not to dominate the room itself any further.

“I now hereby open the floor of this gathering to inquiry, discussion, and direction upon this matter and all of its facets.” Augor Astren intoned.

Taking a moment to stand, Nelinho seemed to be the first in attendance to be able to have a say. “I have at this moment two inquiries of you, Primarch Astren. The first is in relation to that Webway gate you reported as being 7000 lightyears from the current location of Iris. What is its current status and plans related to it? The second is in relation to the offer of surrender to the Aeldari. Please believe me when I say that this is purely a hypothetical situation so remote that it almost isn’t worth the time needed to calculate the odds of it happening, but assuming that they don’t send an acceptance as part of a greater deception or trap, if they should just so happen to overcome their inane superiority complex long enough to admit to themselves that they are doomed if they don’t accept the offer and [i]actually[/i] surrender in good faith… What is the actual plan to do with that scenario? After all, it would be in poor form for the Imperium to offer surrender terms it has no intention of honoring.”  

“As to your first question, Tech-Marine,” Augor began, “That Webway gate is presently active and in a region of space controlled by the Eldar. It serves as a staging area for a number of their raid fleets, and they have made substantial efforts to deter and mitigate the approach of contesting elements in the area. It is our Logis’ estimate that they have likely been positioned there for the explicit purpose of safeguarding that Webway connection from any hazard such as what has befallen to the other two Iris might have once availed itself of. Our tacticians think it possible but unlikely that substantive reserve forces will emerge from that particular Webway Gate, as Iris itself possesses a more immediate and useful Webway connection of its own. By the time the Craftworld has been cloistered, it is expected all reinforcements with an inclination or availability to intervene would already have done so. There are no current plans concerning the extant Webway Gate and its forces. As to the, as you rightfully stated [i]remote[/i] hypothetical of their genuine acceptance of our offer for surrender - the foremost purpose of the campaign is to capture the Craftworld intact. Honoring such a hypothetical surrender would service that end. It would also of course be, indeed, poor form not to honor the terms of proffering the Emperor’s Mercy to these xenos. In the event of their surrender, Iris’ populace will be transported to a penal colony on a predesignated world, where they will await the pleasure of the Emperor’s decree as to what is to be done with them. Their fate shall be as he wills it - much as it already is.” Augor concluded.

“Forgive me, I didn’t make my first inquiry clear enough.” Nelinho stated somewhat bashfully “I meant does the Imperium have plans for that Webway gate in the future [i]beyond[/i] the capture of Iris, or will it just be a target to be destroyed when the time comes to deal with the fleas that retreat there for protection?”

“Not presently” Augor answered curtly. “Though if a compelling purpose for eliminating the extant Webway Gate is proposed, it could be accommodated within the scope of this campaign - though note that simply to deny routed fleet elements an avenue of escape is not something I consider a compelling purpose.”

His questions answered, Nelinho respectfully bowed his head to Augor before retaking his seat, allowing more grand persons the chance to speak. And, indeed, presently a chortling watery breath heralded the Ninth Primarch’s words.

“Your battle-plan is sound,” Sarghaul ground out, “But to sincerely offer Imperial mercy to those xeno vermin, unlikely as they are to accept it, is frivolous. There is nothing to be lost in deceiving the likes of them, who will always be our foes, unless our lord himself has commanded otherwise.”

The Lancers, the Astartes at least, talked among themselves, scribbling and erasing on their datapads as they hashed out troop numbers and force compositions. Imogen however, listened to the discussion of the meeting, nodding or shaking his head at the various points brought up, but not saying much. When Sarghaul spoke, the human offered a counter-point.

“P’rhaps, p’rhaps not Lord Tartareus.” Imogen said, “If acceptin’ surrender of the Eldar xenoform is on the table, though, it does us no good to deceive them if we receive a genuine surrender. Opting to use force after promising them succour like that will only make them fight harder than if we had elected to use force in the first place, no? Plus, no telling what the rest of the Eldar will think if we pull a nasty trick like that. If the xenoforms get word that Imperial terms of surrender are essentially slow xenocide, they’ll fight us tooth and nail every step, bein’ cause the only other option is death.”

He cleared his throat. “Not that I think it’s likely they’ll surrender an entire bloody Craftworld, mind, just cause we asked ‘em to. It’d be like an alien race showin’ up in force in the Sol system and asking us to give up Saturn or somethin’.”

“It is more like them asking for Terra itself, those worlds have different parts which could correlate to our own peoples homeworld. They are devolved and rely on these massive vessels to survive, it is their cultural home, their physical home, and if they did have a true homeworld, that is the closest thing to it.”  Ahgnemir retorted. “The Eldar are decrepit in their tactics, graceful, but they rely on tricks, and tactics only rats can mimic.” 

Into his ear, one of the astartes on his right whispered something, “Even if they are some devolved human form, a craft world will be something that will be like a mountain to the unstoppable tide of Humanity… Ulterior motive or not, something that harbors raiding fleets will likely have something larger, or at least can bring something larger back when it begins to call for help. And as much as it pains for me to say it, we should likely stick with war… anything that is destroyed can likely be made up for in the future, only reason I say that is because there is no compromise to studying them, while among them… just relocation and likely extermination at a later state, they know what we are.”

The four men to Ahgnemir’s left stood at an uneasy still, the only one showing a sign of still being alive was the one in the back right of the quad, who glanced towards the nine on their primarchs right side. Those on the right, looked proud of themselves, even though nothing of them showed, it was more like radiation emitting from them. Meanwhile their primarch seemed sure of himself. He knew what must be done, if his father willed it, he knew that there would be nothing stopping the legions, and it would take legions for this foe, and likely for nothing but small amounts of knowledge they likely knew.

Praetor Imogen nodded, at that. “Lord Ahgnemir’s right. If we’re gonna take a prize like this, it’s gonna be with the sword. And they’ll fight like devils, whether or not we give them the option to surrender.”

The human leaned back in his chair, flipping the datawand to his pad between his fingers. The other Lancers looked at him. Both had trained under the human during the Legion’s conversion from the Lightnings to the Pact, and had come to recognize that face. It was the expression of someone who was dealing with an issue that was far larger than he had prepared for, and now had to break new ground mentally to cope with its scale. 

Imogen finally spoke up again. “Forgive me Lords, but I must express my hesitation. The Eldar are notoriously devious creatures. I’ve heard tales of them being able to… divine the future, far-see not just one outcome but many. I’ve never met them, on the battlefield or otherwise, but don’t the circumstances raise some kind of suspicion? They’re a desperate, failing empire that has to exist in the same space as our noble crusade. Would they not sacrifice a smaller of these… Craftworlds, in order to cripple us?”

Saul Imogen took a pause in his questioning to drink from an enameled hip flask. His voice was getting notably hoarse.

“I realize Lord Astren has taken great pains to make sure this is not the case, what with his interrogations and the like, but four thousand Eldar telling us all the same story, in a race known for its psyker abilities, I feel it would be far easier for that number of Eldar to get their stories straight than the equivalent number of humans, especially if they were laying a trap for us.”

“Allow me to allay your concerns.” Augor spoke in response. “First, rest assured this is no ‘minor’ craftworld we are discussing. Of all the known Eldar Craftworld which have been spotted and measured, Iris outmasses most of them. In terms of volume it is ahead of the known curve by 87%. The significance of Iris is also confirmed by the absence of the otherwise prolific hull-mounted void-sails used by Aeldari voidcraft and their smaller craftworlds - this one here is too massive to benefit from their use. Finally, the size of its defense armada is substantial relative to the forces speculated to be available to other vessels of its kind. Fifteen chapter-fleet equivalents of Aeldari voidcraft make clear that this is not some paltry backwater craftworld to them. As to the Eldar that the Ordo Astranoma interrogated - there was no story to be told. They simply claimed not to have any substantial knowledge of the interior designs or workings of a craftworld. Many of them claimed to be ‘Exodites’ who had not seen the inside of a craftworld. Amongst the raiders we captured, several indicated they were ‘Drukhari’ who resided exclusively within the confines of the Webway when they were not striking out from it in their fleets. Of the few ship captains we were able to question, they confessed to a lack of technical knowledge or precise memory of the layout of the craftworlds they had been on and the most reliable information they were able to provide were simply the Aeldari terms and names for certain ship sections and members of the crew. These Eldar were also seized over a fifteen year period from different stretches of the galaxy, isolated in chambers designed for use in Blackships, and were disposed of at the conclusion of each interrogation. There is simply no degree of contrivance on their part that could amount to a conspiracy in this matter.”

“But perhaps most noteworthy I feel - let us consider for a moment that perhaps it [i]is[/i] a trap. This is a grand design, centuries in the making by the Eldar, specifically lain for [i]us[/i].”

Augor paused emphatically as he let the disquieting notion drift across the expanse of the meeting room.

“What of it?” He finally asked flippantly and with an equally dismissive gesture of one hand. “One thing the Eldar agreed on when questioned was that they would never risk the destruction of a Craftworld, small or large, for any reason. There is some impenetrable religious rot and connotation associated with the craft, they are - much as indicated by my honored brother Ahgnemir - nearly as venerated, each, as Terra itself is by us. They would not risk a Craftworld for any scheme where they thought it would be placed in genuine danger - and so the only trap they would dare to launch would be one borne of their own legions aboard the Craftworld, or by way of fleets they intend to move into position via its webway gate. We are already planning and moving forward on the basis that we would be encountering such trickery. If this is a trap? We shall reach into its very jaws and throttle it as we stab into its brain. If the Eldar are attempting to bait us, their plan must evidently have succeeded. Their vermin-trap is about to snap on an Eagle’s talon.”

The Primarch of the Eighth simply listened to all that had been said with his hands resting upon his lap, until that moment as silent as the mute observers of the Second and of the Sixteenth - who to him honestly seemed more like informants at this moment than anything else.

He had to admit that he [b]was[/b] impressed with the business-like attitude of the Lancers, Astartes and humans both, as well as his brother Ahgnemir - as short and hairy as he was.


“Brother Augor,” inserted Kaelianos, joining the conversation at last, not rising from his seat but projecting his voice about the room with a smile, “I have little to say against your proposal, nae, I support it wholeheartedly in fact!” He gave the table top before him an open-handed slap, slamming his hand onto it and causing resting datapads to leap slightly, leaning into the movement so that all could see and hear him, “to this end I shall volunteer my legions pride and joy, even if it is simply used to hold these vermin in place - the [i]Castrum Aeterna[/i] shall be prepared for combat and transit immediately, should you accept the help offered.”

A collective intake of breath followed by a sudden hush seemed to sweep across the room. The Tech-Priests managing the holocaster remained admirably focused however, and within but a few moments the vision of the Craftworld shrank and was displaced as the gargantuan image of the [i]Castrum Aeterna[/i] appeared alongside it. A massive, mobile void-fortress the size of a small moon, the [i]Castrum Aeterna[/i] was possibly the largest warp-capable craft in the entire Imperium. The armada that accompanied it in turn was likely more than the equal of the Craftworld’s all on its own. Although still dwarfed by the Craftworld itself in comparison, its inclusion would serve as the unstoppable hammer opposed to the immovable bulwark that was the massive Aeldari vessel.

“That is...admittedly quite the unexpected endorsement, oh glorious Kaelianos, for whose glory the stars themselves shine.” Augor spoke, seemingly genuinely taken aback - even visibly [i]stunned[/i] by the proposal, if the uncharacteristically gracious flattery he had just uttered was not indication enough.

“This...changes things rather considerably. I will have to consult with the Logi, but our conservative estimates were that even approaching the Craftworld and battling through its defense fleets would take years. I can only imagine how much time and effort will be saved by the [i]Castrum Aeterna[/i] itself serving as the tip of our spearhead. It is now plausible the advance itself will only take a few months!” The Twelfth Primarch then laughed jovially aloud, and leaned forward to rest an arm on the great table before him as though to support himself. After a few moments of contemplation as he gazed sightlessly at the holo-projection, Augor recovered and resumed his full stance.

“...Yes...I assume the fortress’ defense armada shall be accompanying it as well?” He inquired. “As for the Ordo Astranoma, I am committing both the [i]Ineffable Artifice[/i] as well as the [i]Light of the Omnissiah[/i] to the campaign, alongside twenty Macroclade Fleets.” He gestured, and the holo-display adjusted once more to depict the aforementioned assets - the instantly recognizable configuration of one of the Imperium’s Gloriana-class battleships, and the bulbous and tumor-like hulk that was the Ark Mechanicum [i]Ineffable Artifice[/i] side by side. Both vessels by themselves would have dwarfed any standard Imperial craft, and the [i]Ineffable Artifice[/i] itself doubtlessly would have been the largest ship dedicated to the campaign, until now. Compared to the [i]Castrum Aeterna[/i], both of the collosal vessels seemed like flies - and the holoprojected emblems representing the individual fleets of the Stargazers were pinpricks.

The voice of the Steel Sentinel representative spoke from his position, in a clear and concise voice, “The forces of the Steel Sentinels eagerly await to enact vengeance for our brethren that were lost on that most unholy world, Atis. I can confirm that Father Usriel will commit the near entirety of the forces of the Legion and its Serf-Auxilia, Lords. It would likely be the largest gathering of the Sentinels since the Butcher of Steel.”

Augor’s reaction was respectful if conservative. The size of the Steel Sentinels’ amassed fleets, though nowhere what they had been prior to Atis, were still considerable - especially in light of how numerous the serf auxilia and the nineteenth legion’s neophytes were.

“It would honor all within this room to seek and seize your rightful vengeance alongside the nineteenth legion, Forge Master.” He said calmly. “However, even in light of the contributions of noble Kaelianos, I would encourage you to relay to my brother in glory and blood, Usriel Andredth, the notion that he reconsider a [i]full[/i] commitment of his forces. I am certain there are other campaigns, priorities, and [i]responsibilities[/i] that the nineteenth legion should also see to. It would also be somewhat imprudent to commit the whole of [i]any[/i] Legion’s forces, lest we expose the Imperium’s flanks.”

“The Fortress-worlds are secure at the present time and there is nothing that could lay siege to one even if it were left to just the Planetary Defense Forces. There are a great many other forces able to take up the mantle, such as the many forces of the Daughters of Iron who outnumber the Sentinels many times over,” the Forge Master spoke, his tone unwavering as he bowed his head to Augor. One more chime came from his mechanical voice, “Father Usriel would not have this chance of vengeance squandered, Gene-Uncle.”

“...I feel that I may have to speak with him in-person on this matter - but I will not deny him, or you and your brothers, of this if he and you are all of a single and resolute mind on this.” Augor inclined his head in response. He made another faint gesture with one hand, and the holoprojector image readjusted again, adding more than double the number of fleet emblems to the display alongside those of the Stargazers.

From his own seat, Nelinho rose again, if with a bit less confidence than the two Primarchs that spoke before him. “While I am empowered to speak for my legion in my Primarch’s stead, I confess I am loath to commit an exact list of assets at this time to this campaign. My Primarch is currently organizing another campaign that he has promised the Primarch of the Twentieth before you all and the Emperor himself that he will be a part of, and I do not wish to promise assets that have already been promised by my Primarch elsewhere. However, I do believe I know my Primarch enough to know that arrangements will be made to the best of his ability to support this effort, Primarch Augor. Even if his word means he cannot attend it in person.”

“So noted. Be sure to request data-slates with exact force allotments from your Primarch upon your return to him.” Augor replied.

From the Lancers, Imogen once again stood. 

“Lord Astren, the Tenth sees fit to dedicate…” He pushed one of the dataslates from the Astartes in front of him. “The First Company of the 4th AG, nominally a combat engineering formation, but, in truth, they are our… asymmetric warfare specialists. They conducted decapitation raids during the unification of Lord Wode’s homeworld, and excel at pinpointing and exploiting enemy weaknesses. That’s about… say, a hundred, hundred and twenty Astartes, plus terminator armor and Land Raiders to ride in.”

He paused to take a drink and scroll down on his datapad.

“In addition, we can pledge a battalion of Bombard mortar carriers and Medusa siege gun carriers from the 3rd, to aid in clearing enemy formations, as well as a battalion each of Predator medium tanks and mechanized infantry. In total, about 3800 Astartes, and maybe three times that in Auxilia personnel, plus vehicles. The whole complement can ride in 10th Legion battle barges, unless you’d rather have them ride on ships you provide.”


“Your own battle barges will suffice.” Augor nodded as he gestured and had the emblems for the tenth legion added to the ranks upon the holoprojector. “I cannot promise that your tanks, siege guns and mortars will be of use within the craftworld given we have no intelligence as to how its interior is structured, but they will be no less welcome to the endeavor than the Ordo Astranoma’s Knight Legion. I am certain that even if the confines do not permit for the full might of the tenth legion to be fielded, the council of these experts as to the oblique tactics and strategems of the Eldar will prove invaluable.”

"At the worst, Lord, we can just be common bolter men." Centurion Howler agreed, "But you'd be surprised just where you can fit treads if you've got the know how, and we've got that in spades. In any case, it's academic until we can secure a beachhead to land our task force's elements, and that's a job for breaching teams."

Kaelianos knew well that even his prized flagship and additional craft would not be enough to best an entire space-borne planet-ship, but he drank in the unwarranted praise from his usually quite taciturn sibling, feeling more than pleased that - if what Augor said was true - it would cause the conflict to come to a close all the sooner; though his legion lived and breathed the so-called [i]zone mortalis[/i], he was no butcher, Kaelianos much preferring keep as many warriors and vehicles as intact as possible.

“Then I believe it is a good thing you describe my legion precisely, Centurion… Howler, was it?” The Primarch moved his eyes within olive-skinned sockets, the smile never leaving his face, as if it were a default position upon his face, “I shall make sure you get your beachhead.”

Howler bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of his gene-uncle. "You and yours will be first in, Lord? Then I'll be right there with you."

He grinned, his mustache lifting around his lip. "I'm a liaison officer by trade, a forward observer. A grunt with a radio, if you will."

"And the only Lancer proud of being a footslogger." Praetor Liebowitz spoke up, smiling at the 8th's Primarch and Howler. "He's a rogue spirit, like me. A Legion of tanks, and we're the only ones fool enough to walk."

Nelinho felt the need to raise a matter that needed to be addressed. “Excuse me but... I do believe there is a tactical matter I can address right now that might be of some importance.” Clearing his throat, the tech marine quickly explained “While it is true that most Eldar raiders lack psyker support… Primarch Micholi suspects it is due to most of the Eldar slavers in such raids being mass produced clones, but the Craftworld variants of the species tend to hold their psykers in high relevance. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem but… with the Librarian Crusade being formed and its members traveling with my Primarch and the Twentieth legion there is a concern that this campaign might be lacking in those best able to counter such dangerous sorceries.”

“You need not fear for that,” Sarghaul interjected with a rasp, “A full Tempest of the Ninth shall join the assault. Its Heralds of Silence have honed their own psychic aptitude, and they shall see to combating the emanations of the xeno-mind. The wraiths’ aberrant forces will break against the stillness of a harmonic animus.”

Offering Primarch Sarghaul a respectful bow, General Nelinho did answer “That might be true… but maybe it might be wiser still to delay the experiment of the Librarian Crusade until after we have dealt with target Iris? After all, projections put this campaign at a few months to a number of years.”

Yes, Kaelianos certainly was beginning to like these tanker Astartes (and their mortals) more than he’d expected to… as for Nelinho and his Primarch…

“The Librarian [i]Crusade[/i],” the Sentinel Forge Master began, his mechanical voice straining to show annoyance to the notion of it, coldly stating “is nothing more than a volunteer force. Whether or not they would have any significant impact upon the battle would be one dictated by their lack of numbers. Chief Librarian Nodis also does not garner the same hatred many of us in the Steel Sentinels have for the Eldar. I would imagine Nodis’ force will only be a metric of no more that a company of Librarians, and poorly trained psychic mortals. They would be unneeded and a risk to the operation at best.”

“While I am certain the Librarians are fine warriors and highly trained,” Augor said, finally deigning to join the new angle of conversation. “They are still something of an unblooded force. I have to agree that employing them here, especially against Aeldari psykers, is probably not prudent until they have demonstrated their doubtlessly exemplary capabilities in their own crusade. The Ninth legion’s Heralds are specialized for this endeavor, and the Twelfth legion has built up a stockpile of mindscrambler and even a modest collection of psyk-out grenades that we shall be pleased to distribute amongst the other forces assembled. More mitigatory tactics and personnel in regards to Aeldari psykers other than the Librarians would of course be helpful and welcomed.”

There was a brief silence from the Lancer contingent. Howler, jovial from his recognition by Kaelianos, suddenly found his countenance grim. Liebowitz and Imogen exchanged worried looks. They waited a second before it was the human, Imogen that spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Lord Astren, but… psyk-out grenades? Mindscramblers?” He seemed incredulous. “That wargear is… heavily restricted, and for good reason. Irresponsible use, I’ve been told, can leech a man’s soul from his body. We only issue it to our elite combat engineering companies and only in the most dire circumstances. I believe the normal Legiones Astartes organization table sanctions it for Destroyer companies only.”

He coughed, then stated, “We do deviate from that hallowed text a great deal, mind, but my point stands, that is incredibly dangerous gear, not only to our Lancers, but to our essential Auxilia personnel as well. And… blimey, there’s no tellin’ what would happen if we’re slinging them around in a ship full of nascent and active psykers, which the Eldar all are. Unless we’re sending in only properly trained men I can’t sign off on this at all. Is taking a chance on the Librarius really so unappealing compared to…”

He sighed, his vocabulary failing him. “...soul-sucking grenades?”

“Would you prefer to be left to the tender mercies of an Eldar Psyker without them?” Augor asked with a pointed air as he deliberately directed his eyeless sight to Imogen. “They are particularly hazardous, this much is true. They have the marked advantage, however, of not inviting the perils of the warp into the materium. Moreover, I have not indicated individual legions with their own Librarians [i]may not[/i] bring them - merely that it might be premature to invite the collective Librarian Crusade force onboard as part of our spearhead.”

“Or you use the Eighteenth Legion if you are so worried about witches and sorcery. I will gladly prove you and those grenades as useless to your fears. Let me loose, if you wish to have that craftworld, then let me loose. I will give the fleet of the bear to your war, and any others that you desire, but let me at them…” The Aghmenir growled, “Or give the Librarius their own test, give them their bloody baptism in fire, and when they fail, you will come back to me and ask me to lead the second spear into the heart of those you set me upon.” 

“My people have fought the witch, my people have felt those Souls pressing against us when we left the runic boundaries of our villages. I have married thirty five lovely wifes and each one I walked out upon the ice flats naked alongside them, safe from that storm which engulfs my home… The answer to a psyker, is not another, but something stronger in will and power! I am speaking from my right side… and it tells me that I should be the one to lead this spearhead or see assets wasted.” 

To Imogen’s credit, he did not shy away from the objections of two Primarchs, not even flinching when Lord Aghnemir raised his deep voice, but, a human was a human. He was cowed. The worried faces of the other Lancers abated somewhat, for diplomacy’s sake, but it was clear they were still uneasy. 

“Lords… forgive me.” Imogen started, “I just don’t share the same confidence, but, an agreement’s an agreement. Threatening withdrawal of our modest force was…”

He sighed. “I guess you could say it was immature. That said, if we’re issuing psyk-outs, I’d like them only issued to our combat engineering personnel, who are checked out. The other Lancers will have to take their odds, even against the witchery of the Eldar.”

Howler and Liebowitz both nodded in agreement, despite Praetor Imogen’s seemingly callous wording.

“We would never presume to force you to make use of such armaments, of course - they shall be provided to the tenth legion, and all other forces for that matter, by request and only as designated.” Augor assured Imogen with a conciliatory tone. “They are there if you should desire to make use of them.”

"Then… there is no issue." Saul Imogen smiled, his face crinkling in an expression of genuine warmth. "I have no other objections at this point, esteemed lords."

Both of the Astartes with him nodded in agreement.

For his part, Nelinho added “Personally, the second legion has come to the conclusion that the best way to deal with an enemy psyker was to blow their head off before they even knew you were there. But Eldar witches are… [i]difficult[/i] to get that element of surprise with. That being said, we’ll still manage. My concern was more about having those more sensitive and experienced with such powers in order to see such vile things coming.” The tech marine’s words weren’t that of fear or doubt, his tone suggested more that dealing with craftworld psykers was just a pain in the ass of a job that unfortunately needed doing. 

“Well, there are still two Legions with representatives at this gathering who might have some measure of expertise to lend to our efforts.” Augor replied - before then turning his sightless gaze to Ascania and Ayushmatki. “Niece and honored guest - have you any insight into this matter? Or perhaps as to the remainder of this campaign? The fourteenth and sixteenth legions are redoubtable forces and I am certain all here in attendance would be honored to fight these most heinous of xenos alongside you.”

As one, nearly the entire room turned to gaze at the until-then silent pair of women who had thus far remained successfully unnoticed.

Ascania turned to face Augor, the peaceful countenance of her Primarch at rest staring back at him as she stared from behind the death mask. “Our attentions currently reside upon troubling prospects rimward and trailing, we had the utmost confidence in the furor of our most beloved Micholi and Usriel to prosecute this campaign along your side before yet more flocked to this banner,” she said in a voice that mixed her own with that of Daena. “Those Chapters in the vicinity of your forces will, naturally, join you and your cause. Yet more may arrive should our fears be put to rest, and you have our word that the Deathseers shall prise apart the skein of endings to chart your course.”

“I am sure Father Usriel would be most pleased to see the Doomsayers joining our crusade of vengeance against these abominations, cousin. My emotion cores return delight and I shall acknowledge it,” the mechanical voice of Aschwin came, as he waved a mechadendrite towards Ascania. The two tech-marines behind him nodded in agreement as the mechadendrite returned to its original spot behind the Forge Master.

The Equerry seemed to relax as she turned to respond to Aschwin, though her face remained hidden. “Your father has proven himself a true friend and caring lord, there is nothing more we desire than to right the wrong done to you and yours,” she said, melancholy coloring her voice. Much had been studied in the secrecy of the Legion’s vaults, and doubt gnawed at her mind whether Usriel would find the redemption he so desperately sought in the killing fields to come.

Ayushmatki had remained almost rigidly still during the long proceedings, her augmetic eyes unblinking as she recorded and made notes upon every single second of it. At the initial mention of the Sixteenth Legion, her posture had shifted almost imperceptibly as she refocused her attention upon the Sentinel speaking - though she did not respond, the conversation moving onwards before there was need. 

But now she and Ascania had been addressed directly by the Primarch of the Twelfth Legion, and silence was no longer an option. She maintained her silence as Ascania spoke, nodding her head ever so slightly in response to her. When she finally did speak, it was with a measured, closely guarded voice, “The Sixteenth Legion is honored, Primarch of the Stargazers, that you would request our presence in such a significant undertaking.” 

She inclined her head towards him as she spoke, her voice maintaining its clipped, reserved demeanor, “However, the forces of the Legion have already been issued their new orders for fresh deployment abroad after we have concluded our events here in order to continue the expansion of the Imperium’s borders and the pacification of those who would do us harm. While Eiohsa may not be here at present, for which you have both my and her deepest apologies, she has assured me she will arrive as soon as she is capable, as she wishes to take the chance for her Legion to meet and learn from the other illustrious forces of our Emperor - after which they will return to their duties. I and my comrades are greatly honored, but if in truth you are insistent upon us contributing to this venture, I would support the suggestion of the Forge Master of the Steel Sentinels. None of us would seek to deny them their vengeance upon a treacherous foe who has wrought such hardship upon the Nineteenth Legion, and in truth the forces already pledged to this grand undertaking are more than sufficient for a firm guarantee of success. With your blessings, lord Primarchs, we would continue the bulk of our operations throughout the Ultima Segmentum as planned. The incursion into Saravata by a previously unknown xenos empire is proof enough that the Imperium’s borders are not yet fully secure, and it is my firm belief that the bulk of the Daughters of Iron would be more gainfully employed in our current plans.”

After a slight pause, a smile came to her face, though one as close as Ascania might notice its artificiality. “Additionally, the interiors of a Craftworld are, I imagine, not as conducive to the tactics of the Sixteenth Legion as those of our kin. Should a detachment of the sixteenth be in the vicinity during this operation, they will of course answer the call to arms - but in truth swords and axes have never truly been our forte since the shameful days of the Wolves of Terra and their needless waste of resources, and it seems you have already received as much armored support as you could possibly need - though I confess I will be greatly intrigued to hear of the performance of armored vehicles in such conditions. I do, however, doubt that our artillery will be of aid in this battle, and our method of warfare is best suited elsewhere.” She finished with a nod towards the Praetor of the Pact. 

Howler sat back in his chair, rubbing his mustache with his hand. “You’re right, Sister, but, even if we gotta pack ‘em in tread-to-tread we’ll do it. We lose a company or two of tubes to Eldar raiding parties, that’s fine, but from the reports me and Lieb read…”

He nodded to the fuzzy-haired Astartes to his left, “Eldar are fast. Some of them are almost supernaturally skilled. Skilled in a way that can’t be beat just going up at ‘em gun-to-gun or blade-to-blade. Infantry should be able to call for support if they get in over their heads, it’s that simple.”

Howler paused to collect his thoughts. Saul Imogen looked at him encouragingly. He patted the redleg on the shoulder, and that seemed to focus Howler, who continued.

“Maybe the environment isn’t ideal for a tank, or a gun carrier, but that don’t mean they can’t be put to use. I’d rather flatten a housing complex with a Bombard than clear it room to room, exceptin’ of course if there’s somethin’ we need or civilians, mind, and I doubt even the most hard charging Astartes in this room would disagree with me. The Pact’s method of warmakin’ - we hit ‘em with everything we got, as often as we can, even if they make it difficult. Our job is to make it just as difficult for them, and I’m sorry, but if it was my ass clearing a Wraithbone bunker, I’d want to be able to call in support, even if it means the artillerymen have to breath each other’s halitosis.”

Liebowitz, the 4th AG praetor, spoke up after Howler. “My centurion, bless his heart, failed to address your mention of combat reports, Sister Ayushmakti. Forgive him, he is exceedingly technical in nature. He’ll talk for hours about this stuff if you let him. We will, of course, make all Tenth Legion combat reports available to any other Legion who wishes to see them, as well as the illustrious Daughters of Iron. Lord Wode is always willing to work with his siblings, and we see it the same way.”

“I shall take that offer, Praetor,” chimed in Kaelianos, taking a little moment from his ever ongoing internal reveries, “we of the Eighth, and myself in particular, are [b]always[/b] eager to learn from others ways of war. It is how we have operated since our inception.” For a moment he paused, then spoke up again, “I would be honoured to meet your gene-Father at a time of his choosing, for mutual benefit. Would that be possible?”

“I suppose it isn’t -impossible-, Lord Kaelianos, but our gene-father is notoriously difficult to make appointments with.” Liebowitz said, flipping a pen in his hands. “Well, at least for remembrancers. His siblings, though, he loves meeting them, but he’s a very hands-on man with his men. If you wish to speak with him, just showing up at our staging area here in the Council area should probably do it, he’ll make the time. He forgets, you see, to seek out companionship, he’s always losing himself in the work of maintaining, feeding, and training 150,000 Astartes.”

The face of the Primarch creased into an amicable smile, jovial congeniality oozing from every pore of the oversized demi-god, “a ‘man’ after my own heart…” his eyes moved over the Pact representatives again, analysing them in a glance much as a machine might, but with less brute force or even obviousness as to what he was doing, “yes, he must be busy. Thank you Praetor Liebowitz, that is all I needed to know.” Leisurely he pressed his hands back to his lap and waited for the proceedings to… proceed.

Augor leaned back away from his area of the table and swept his gaze over the assembled parties one last time as silence fell just in case any of the others had more to say before carrying on. 

“Now that each of the Legions with representatives present have had the opportunity to pledge forces to the campaign, it would be prudent for us to discuss logistics, assembly points, and fleet groupings.” He began. “It is imperative that rather than building up forces gradually that all of our assets aggregate more or less simultaneously and in the same span of time, so as to provide the Eldar with as little forewarning as possible. Likewise, given the distinct possibility of Eldar farsight in this matter, the exact final configuration of which sectors we use to muster will be randomly determined shortly prior to assembly in order to deter the possibility of the Eldar laying any traps in the sectors we ultimately use. In order to facilitate this, a completed circle of waystations around the theater of the Campaign have been…”


What followed were several hours of dry bureaucratic management and planning. The consolidation and transportation of troops, equipment, ships, the scheduling and sectors involved, the measures being taken to facilitate the infant Campaign without exposing its existence to the Eldar, the nominal orders of battle and the establishing of a nominal chain of command between the Legion forces that would be present. Several of the attendees raised a few clarifying questions along the way, but little else in the way of true conversation was had.
[hr]