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[h2]Memphos[/h2]

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"Witness Glory."

Aristagorous halberd remained aloft for a moment longer. The Thunder Warriors around him misinterpreted his call as a triumphant warcry and the call was taken up, screamed into the faces of the dying as the last resistance of the bastion crumbled. Their commander did not, however, reference their completion of the objective, but instead the prying eyes settled upon him. Gene enhanced senses greater even than his warriors made him alert to the observation, a corona of light from the burning outer city framing the Custodian, even as he finally lowered the weapon, surveying the city yet to come.

The outer defences of the city in most places were in the process of, or already were, overwhelmed. Slithers of resistance remained, but few outside of the Sigilitte's predictions, areas of the city defended best by the natural defenses of the craggy delta, or around key points of cultural and strategic importance.

"My Lord, the Northern Bulwark has surrendered and beg your mercy." The voice crackled over the vox, distorted by the distance involved and the intensity of the fighting, but clear enough. The equipment secured by the alliance with the Achaemenids was already proving useful.

"Tell them to be thankful it is the Emperor's mercy they fall upon and not my own, for he has granted them freedom. Remind them it was Aristagorous who conquered them by the death of one in ten."
With but a collection of words the Custodian signed the death warrant of a thousand souls of the enemy's largest collection of forces outside of their central districts. He spared them no further thought as he continued to regard the battlefield beyond, plotting how more would fall to his army.

"By his will."

There was no further communication as to the matter, no doubt that it should be done. The Custodian was in no doubt that the greater fighting was yet to come, but this was still a moment to relish, the first great test of the Imperial Army now that it could be called such a thing. This was not a conflict to unite scattered tribes of the mountains, but the destruction of a civilisation. This was what he had been made for.

"Come then, Memphos, show me the wrath of your Dynast-Kings, give me your fury."

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“Do you see now? Do you see the threat this Usurper presents?” The man’s voice was frantic, robbed of its usual authority as Dynast Amsi watched the distance, the fringes of his human vision alight with the fires of the burning outer city. It seemed some great distance now, but in the haze of industry and the desert, visibility was no great scope, the enemy were close, and closing. “This heresy confounds the will of the Sacred Bloodlines, it is the duty of your alliance to aid us.”

The being he addressed was anonymous, cowled in dark robes of black and red, their voice modulated into an even drone when they did speak, concealing both identity and form. Even still, an element of amusement could be sensed in their response. “Desperation is unbecoming, you shunned our alliance for many years before this.” The accusation brought further fear to the wizened features of the Dynast, one of many in this, the oldest of the Dynast Cities, simply another branch on the sprawling tree that was the ‘Sacred’ Bloodline. He would sell his sister or wife for survival if need be. Made all the more convenient that they were likely the same person.

“What does the Patriarch wish of us? Anything that is ours to give, for his aid.” The hooded stranger regarded the frantic noble without comment for several long moments. Despite the meeting taking place among the high pyramidic spires of the inner city, they were far from the frantic turmoil of the command centres. This was a deal made in darkness, and it would beget further darkness.

“Fall beneath his will, bow to the inevitable, and we will fight this Invader for you.”

“You would have us trade one invader for another?”

“The Patriarch cares not for your customs, he respects the power of your ancient blood, this Emperor will shatter you, cast down your temples and impose his order. Perhaps once you could have secured freedom, but the cost is greater for begging our aid now.”

There was bile and hatred in the noble’s words as he gave in, but none the less, he did. “Then do so, save us, and Memphos will bow to your Patriarch.”

“There was no offer of salvation.”

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As the forces of the Imperium pushed on, the nascant regiments, mercenaries and drafted forces alike, alongside the gene enhanced warriors of the Thunder Legions, resistance began to increase. The density of enemy forces, and their quality, began to exponentially rise. No longer the mad zealots conscripted and thrown into the way of the enemy, but trained soldiers. Still, the advance did not halt, the mortal men unable to hold back the force of the assault.

The a scream howled out from the central spires, despite the volume, carrying over the vastness of the city, even abone the roar of conflict, it seemed to be of a singular, harrowing, voice. A moment later and the sky was rent by an arc of lightning, surging from swirling sandstorm of the air. Ozone stung the tongues and throats of all, yet this was the least of it.

Forces of the Dynasts continued to fight and die, but they did not halt, something foul crackled in the air, the death of each enemy soldier followed by a harrowing repeat of that same scream, ripped from their own throat, before they pushed on all the same, mindless, in their desire to pull down the invaders, foul, baleful energy burning from their eyes.