[center][h1][b]The Urshite Threat[/b][/h1][/center]
[center]-Fifty Years After The Invasion of Memphos-[/center]
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Gusts of freezing wind snapped ferociously at rock and stone alike amongst the Himalazian mountains. Extraordinarily tall peaks covered by snow dominated as far as the eye could see. Sporadic clumps of ruined vegetation dotted across frosty ridgelines, momentarily brightening the dark majesty of the range. Silhouettes of large, furred creatures on multiple limbs swiftly darted between abundant patches of snow, baleful snarls and feline roars echoing throughout the frigid corridor. At random intervals small buildings made of unknown material jutted out as impromptu platforms where earthen slabs would normally rise. Dim, crimson glowglobes illuminated a soft, repeating light at each corner of the metallic stages. Veiled, malicious turrets stood several meters away from these on their own separate towers, forever hidden and quick to tag incoming objects. Icy bastions of indescribable stone rose beneath the towers, stretching for untold miles in both directions.  Few called this inhospitable area their home for far fewer could prosper in such an environment.

Yet, he called it home. Aeternus’ crimson lenses stared out of a stormbird’s eastward viewport, lingering on every shadow that passed their craft. He swiveled away from majestic nature to grim reality within the gunship’s interior. Several other entities languished in uncomfortable bucket seats, rocking as their vessel lurched under freezing gusts. A pair of yellow-armored warriors sat directly across from him, Captains Caligula and Tiberius. One held a concerned smile on their ugly face, while the other remained nonplussed as a wooden board. Observing them like a hawk nearest to their side was Lady Amalasuntha, her dark armor nearly blending into the interior. Several other of her kin remained close, their black visors lasered in on any and every movement that the God Slayers took. It would’ve been a discomforting leer were it not for the Black Hawk’s persistent guardianship of their Thunder Legion. Rex felt their tension even without his and his companion’s weapons, the Custodians less afraid and more prepared in case of an emergency.

As the stormbird flew in silence, save for the occasional jostle, so too did the inhabitants remain voiceless amidst their journey. The Primarch stewed on the events leading up to their current predicament during their brief moments of tranquility. A recall on a level such as this, immediately after the fall of the Ethnarchy, was cause for distress. Daunting dropships bearing golden raptors had interrupted their armored convoy’s resupply in Ururatu, demanding his presence for an immediate announcement in the audience of their liege. Oddly, the Black Hawk was additionally requested to join their voyage as if they were attached at an indescribable level, or perhaps He simply wished to see one of His many creations again. 

A soft klaxon rang throughout the bay as the stormbird initiated a landing descent, pneumatic pistons audibly hissing as landing gears unfolded from far beneath their greaves. Crimson warning lights flashed across the gunship’s interior to alert those within of their voyage’s end. Gene warriors rocked in their bucket seats as they finished descending onto one of the few available platforms. The ringing klaxon muted itself, the lights cut, and the assault ramp dropped as quickly as a hydraulically driven system could in a frozen environment. The Primarch shared a look between Caligula and Tiberius before wordlessly unbuckling to clamber out of their craft. Both shortly followed after their commander, stalked by those Custodes that had accompanied them from Ururatu onward.

Blizzarding snowflakes coated the God Slayer’s helmet in swift, uneven clumps as he marched out of the stormbird. Black gauntlets reached up from his side, removing the great helm to admire the freezing temperatures. A small smile grew on Aeternus’ cracked lips, pushing a plethora of scars further up his admirable face. His dark eyes swiveled from the beautiful, Himalazian mountains to a pair of leviathan doors guarding the sanctuary of his master. Sentinels in ornate, midnight armor stood as eternal guardians over the gateway, snow blanketing their forms and melting in the same moment of contact. Those warriors that defended their liege’s realm allowed their entry with a simple activation of a hidden rune.

The Master of the Line’s abode sprawled for countless miles, enormous pillars of reinforced stone rising from floor to ceiling along ornate walls depicting endless eras of humanity. Scribes and data savants paced the labyrinth interior, a single tracked focus driving them deep within the Himalazian bastion. Custodes in dark armor proudly patrolled the halls carrying brutal spears with ranged armaments at the tip. Great glowglobes hung overhead as long, fluorescent illuminating devices that brightly shone over the width of their master’s alcoves. Grand, crimson rugs fashioned from material of Terra’s past covered carefully laid foundations beneath their greaves. Tapestries of unknown events clung to blank surfaces in specific intervals, positioned in a chronological pattern yet known to several onlookers.

The procession of thunder warriors and custodes marched on throughout their master’s astonishing abode, servants and savants splitting away in droves to avoid their gait. Dark lenses all equally fell on a single destination furthest away from their arrival point: a gateway etched with an enormous raptor and thunderbolts. Those genewarriors that had accompanied Aeternus, save for the Black Hawk, separated into a different corridor with practiced ease. Himself and Amalasuntha pressed on as if the waltz through His domain had been performed an innumerable amount of times. Midnight clad knights that awaited their arrival allowed their entrance, turning to speak softly into their helmet and activating the portal’s activation runes.

A wide, spherical chamber opened up before Aeternus’ eyes with several gateways leading into it. His eyes fell to an enormous, magnificent circular table sat at the center of the room. Rows of ornate seats sized for beings of greater stature than his own nestled along the rim. Hololithic images swirled overhead, casted by a projector at the table’s center and illuminating part of his armor in a blue hue. He noticed sculpted glowglobes etched into several pillars lining the room’s edge as he pressed forward, Amalasuntha following close behind him. None of these drew Rex’s attention insomuch as those that had already been inhabiting this location before him. A grin broke his tensed lips.

Several giants in armored suits similar to his own loudly bickered from their seats. Aeternus counted five of them in total from least deafening to most thunderous. All of them bore some manner of their liege’s yellow armor combined with heraldic colors of their own. Few of them wore capes or cloaks as he did, while others donned hardened leather tabards or chainmail hauberks at their waist. None wore their helmet or had their weapons present for such a gathering. A plethora of different hairstyles defined their rugged, ugly features as they intensely spoke with one another. Rex lingered only a moment before he was spotted entering the chamber with Amalasuntha.

“By ash and flame! Aeternus Rex! It’s been nearly a decade since we last fought together on the Jermani hills!” The most gregarious one lurched from his seat in a feat of bundled joy, a pure and ugly smile permanently plastered across his homely facial features. Dull red and ashen gray locks spilled around an unevenly shaped skull of the warrior, a thin beard scissored by crisscrossing scars amplifying his image. A cloak of forged scales clinked across his armor, yellow coating half of his plating and scarlet the other amount. The Raptor was proudly displayed on his chest, while an emblem of a phoenix blazed across his left shoulder.

“That it has, [b]Primarch Alexamandes[/b]! Glory upon Unity, it is good to see you alive!” The two, great thunder warriors approached each other and embraced with enough force to shatter a mortal man’s skull several times over. They split away from their exchange with a hearty laugh echoing from deep within their breasts. Aeternus noticed the Black Hawk edge away from the event to stand next to more of her kin.

“To see you alive is a boon, Aeternus. Our Unification greatly prospers from your survival.” Another spoke, picking themselves up from the table to approach the pair of Primarchs. Their tone was nasally and deep as if their nose and throat were clogged with bullet shells.  A gaunt knight with raven hair tied in a warrior’s knot linked arms with the God Slayer, a thin grin growing on their cracked lips. Aeternus admired the midnight blue, talon tipped gauntlets of the other warrior as they separated. A mechanical eye darted across Rex’s armor, scanning and consuming data in expedient droves. Flattened feathers loosely fell from a dark, plumed cloak that billowed behind their back. A sigil of a moon and a raptor hid itself well upon his left pauldron.

“You honor me, [b]Primarch Corvinius[/b], but do not sell yourself short of achievements. That coup in Franc would never have been as successful if I were commanding the legions there!” Aeternus said, wildly gesturing as if he were displaying a map before him. Corvinius snickered before moving away from the other Primarch, returning to his seat to renew a conversation with Alexamandes.

The God Slayer, finally free of distraction, began to find his seat before he was ambushed by another of the guests within the chamber. A woman wrapped Aeternus in a familiar headlock, threatening to choke the life out of him were it not for his own strength. Rex broke free from the headlock with a quick jab behind him using one of his armored elbows. Tension released from around the armor protecting his neck, swinging his body around to address his assailant.

“You’ve grown more timid, Rex! Any further deviancy and I’ll need to have a word with our Master about your lackadaisical attitude.” Her voice boomed, roaring akin to the likes of a Terran ursidae. She rose as a behemoth of meat and muscle beneath a suit of yellow armor and verdant green. A strong jaw set with fresh scars blended up into a half-shaven head of gray-blonde. Where one part of her face was deeply etched with wrought facial tissue, the other half was a mess of freckle and dried paint. Emerald eyes stared down at his slightly shorter form, yet his own dark eyes glimpsed at the antler-horned raptor on her pauldron. A chain hauberk hung between her armored thighs, shaven skulls hanging from silver hooks.

“Perish the thought, [b]Primarch Bodiciia[/b], I would like to avoid the Butcher of Europa’s wroth if I could help it. I will simply have to train more earnestly with Amalasuntha to live up to your expectations!” Aeternus spoke with a hint of rivalry in his tone, a challenging smirk revealing an array of sharp teeth beneath the other Primarch’s lips. Bodiciia returned to her seat beside Alexamandes, a heavy hand weighing upon the auburn-haired warrior's pauldron.

“It would do you some good to learn from her, God Slayer, perhaps then you’d be able to uphold our Master’s plan more efficiently and claim more territory for Him.” Another voice remarked with a boastful tone to his immediate left. The moment that their lips had opened, Aeternus knew who finally awaited him at his end of their meeting. A rogue in partially yellow, partially amethyst powered armor sat beside Rex with their elbows propped up and their hands clasped. A man with the least amount of facial defects for a thunder warrior peered back at him, gray orbs boring holes into his skull and full lips drawing his ire. A leather cloak faintly dyed in a dark, purple hue clung to their back, complemented only by the lilac hawk set in laurels etched on his left pauldron. 

“Know that my achievements are worthwhile to Him, [b]Primarch Gilgemenses[/b], but I do greatly appreciate yours and Bodiciia’s concern for my success. Your kind regard for my accolades is worth a thousand blades.” Aeternus shot back with a playful tone, earning a spurned glare from the Primarch sat next to him. The gathered warriors, with the exception of Gilgemenses, exploded into laughter as Aeternus finally took his seat. “Where are the other legion commanders? I’d imagine [b]Hannibal[/b] of the Caged Dogs and [i]Ushotan[/i] of the Fourth would certainly be here.”

“The last I’d heard from Hannibal and the Fifteenth was from their push into the Midafrik Hive Polity. Ushotan, damn him, was previously seen assaulting the southern border of Nordyc with his Steel Lords. All of the other legion commanders are spread out thin between garrison duty and dealing with daily insurrections.” Corvinius’ dour voice replied, responding to Aeternus as if he were reading from a dataslate. Rex always knew that he was a brilliant, capable warrior, yet it still surprised him in the brief moments they spent time together.

“The First Legion? Concerned? The Dragon of the Himalazians, the Scourge of Northern Indoi, the Black Knight, the Gyptian Menace, the Great Blade of the Raptor, the Ururtanian Ruiner concerned? Perhaps we were doomed from the outset if Aeternus Rex grows worrisome for others.” Gilgamenses scoffed, venom dripping from his words in heavy clumps.

The throng of hyper augmented gene warriors exploded in a fit of discord, throwing insults and threats across the table at Gilgamenses. The amethystine Primarch responded in kind with similar slurs and gibes. Only Aeternus did not participate in the shouting match, his elbows propped and eyes staring down Amalasuntha as if to request for an amount of assistance. It was not his place, nor his duty to silence those outside of his responsibilities. As Rex awaited intervention from his bloodbound Custodes, his ears perked as mighty footsteps of unknown origin resounded further down one of the great many doors built into the chamber.

Sensing another entity coming, Amalasuntha slammed the butt of her spear into the ground three times and three times did the noise reverberate around the grand hall. The noise drowned out most of the explosive arguments, but the Black-Hawk did little to speak to the bickering gene-warriors for they were beneath her. Unlike Aeternus, they did not garner the respect of the Custodian and how they acted would ensure that she never would. Others continued to argue, bringing her predatory gaze to them. The roar of her pack destroyed all other sound, her blackened form looking down from them from a ledge  just big enough for her to stand on. Only when the last looked at her did she make it clear, “You are within the [b]Emperor’s[/b] halls. He, nor the Sigillite, shall listen to bickering children.”

That other entity was likely very underwhelming to what the Black-Hawk believed it to be. It was, instead, [b]Theadon Red[/b], Commander of the Eighteenth. Theadon was thick and broad. His aged face was riveted with pockmarks, and the right side was plagued with patches of where a recent fire left a wound upon it. Though somewhat intact, his right arm had piecemeal mechanics holding it together and supporting it. The rest was under armor, and a thin black cloak, with small bits of red and purple highlights underneath the thin sheet that wrapped around most of his body. Helmet and plume tucked neatly at his side, the warrior just stared at what was the rabble he had heard walking towards the procession, but now he saw the scene as it was. He was thankful that none under his command but for a few underlings decided to make the journey; if another had come, it would have turned into a bloody brawl. His eyes went up to the woman and her staff, then back towards the rabble. 

"While I thank you for the entrance, I hope I am not late as usual," Theadon said calmly with a slight smirk, looking up to the ledge above one last time before making his way toward the seat he assumes is his. 

Aeternus released a breath of relief as Theadon’s arrival and Amalasuntha’s intervention was enough to either stupify or pacify the other Primarchs from further provocations. He watched as Bodiciia and Alexamandes stared daggers into the custodian, while the remainder turned their attention to the late arrival of the Eighteenth. Rex nodded his head thankfully to the Black Hawk before opening his mouth to speak with the final legion commander.

“It’s good to see you alive, Theadon. I grew worried that you’d get chewed out by the Sigillite if you took any longer.” The God Slayer remarked with a small smile flashed in Theadon’s direction. He reached up with one of his gauntlets to rest it upon the Eighteenth Primarch’s shoulder in such a way a long friend would. He silently thanked fate that the other commander had arrived in time for he still sensed another, mightier presence approaching their council. “Though I hate to admit, you are as late as I am.”

The sound of his staff upon the ancient stone rang louder than any bell of doom, for all present had seen the fury that its master could unleash. He seemed frailer than at the last such grand council, the all too human form vanishing into the folds of his robes such that only the fire of his eyes and the gnarled husk of his fist about his staff were still visible. And yet, when he sat at the throne at the right hand of his master’s, he still seemed unbent and undaunted by the mighty weight of his years. Standing behind him, rendered almost invisible by the scale of his presence, was a severe woman in a pressed blue uniform adorned with a triple helix.

“Amalasuntha,” Malcador said softly, his voice somehow carrying throughout the hall, “you have my thanks, but you need not worry about such things upon my account. Though my Master has long disputed it, I can think of nothing better to retain my youth than to hear the cries of children,” he added with a soft grin, the Sigilite relaxing slightly upon his throne. “But she is right, she is right,” he continued with a wave of his wave. “We have work to do, children, that which you were best made for.”

At some subtle gesture from the man, the hololith suddenly redirected its focus, the image of the wartorn world’s surface rendered down to a single front. One that every soul in the room knew all too well. Ursh. The vast realm stretched across the breadth of the world, poised above the Emperor’s own domain, fat and hungry.

“Now that Kalagann has destroyed Xozer and overthrown their wyrds, fear has come into our hearts that witchery shall compound witchery. His realm must fall, his covens destroyed, and their lore burnt, before they can do lasting damage to the great work. You may bid amongst yourselves for positions amongst the fronts, with one exception,” Malcador said, his eyes turning to Aeternus. “I have special need of the God-Slayers.”

Aeternus’ gentle demeanor fell as the Sigilite addressed his legion. An uneasy chill descended over his body as their liege’s closest advisor bore into him with eyes that could strip away any mental resistance. Several of the aforementioned Primarchs bit their tongues after a quick dismissal, Alexamandes and Bodiciia in particular silently fuming. Rex rose from his oversized seat, bowed his head low, and opened his lips to speak. Long strands of silky, black hair similar to the Master of the Line’s draped across his lowered forehead.

“It is an honor and a privilege that you would require us, Lord Sigilite,” Aeternus spoke in a humble tone, dark eyes glued to the table as a sign of respect. He feared nothing in physical form, yet the Sigilite’s burning orbs never failed to force him into some notion of dread. Others glared daggers into his fur-cloaked back, Gilgamenses, in particular, radiated some level of envy. Thus Rex never falters in his genuflection until responded to. “We will conquer and kill for Him and Unity, where would you have us slay?”

“Enough of this petty jealousy,” Malcador whispered wearily, slouching into his throne at the immediate sense of being slighted by the Thunder Primarchs. “I give the bulk of you honor and glory, blood and war! Is this not what your hearts bay for? Is this not what you have come to this council in the name of? You shall have your pick of Ursh, and neither I nor my Master shall stand against the biddings of your murdermake. Is that not enough? Is the Raptor no longer enough? Shall I gift to each of you a trinket, so that you may think yourself beloved by your father?”

“Foolish children,” the Sigilite said with a bone-weary sigh, lifting his face out of his robes and for once appearing every day of his nigh thousand years. “You wish to know why I have called Aeternus to my side? It is for no errand any of you shall care for, and there is far less glory in it than you shall gain by bringing to my Master one of Kalagann’s battle standards. I require the God-Slayers to engage upon a mission of [i]peace[/i]. Now silence this pride, and leave me to my business, Aeternus and I must speak of Sanctii.”

The Primarch of the God-Slayers raised his head after the Sigilite’s remarks, turning a pair of dark eyes to his kindred. A small amount of pity flitted through his orbs before he turned away and stood apart from the gathering, awaiting the moment when Malcador would call for him. Aeternus would watch as a smaller feud began to break out between the gathered throng of bloodthirsty legion commanders, beginning with the largest of their assorted rank.

“The Raptor is plentiful, Malcador! I do not require trinkets. Those will be taken from those that will be slain in the southern city of [b]Kaspia[/b].” Bodiciia rose from her seat, planting her fist on the table and grinning wickedly between the Sigilite and the hololithic projection. A voice that threatened to shatter even those gene-altered around her boomed with each and every syllable. The thunder warrior raised a finger to the southwestern part of Ursh’s fringe territories.  “[b]The Verdant Raiders of the Second Legion[/b] will prevail in the name of Unity, our Master, and for Mankind!”

The next of the genewarriors moved with a swiftness, Primarch Alexamandes echoing the Fourth’s overexaggerated movements with his own. A great laugh thundered from deep within his breastplate. “As the Butcher of Europa said, blood is enough, Sigilite. [b]I[/b] would rather have waged war with the [b]great[/b] Aeternus Rex, but I will claim [b]Monggol Tertius[/b]! I expect you ‘lot to see the red and gray of the [b]Tenth’s Infernal Phoenixes[/b] in southern-central Ursh!”  Alexamandes blared, a pair of nearly manic eyes swapping between the remaining thunder warriors. One of his dull, red gauntlets directed the precise location of his assaulting target before the legion commander backed away from the table with Bodiciia.

A brief moment of silence filled the air as the remainder of the Primarchs, those that had spent longer than a fraction of a second to think, considered their own plans. Corvinius’ eyes darted between several suitable locations marked across the hovering hologram, especially lingering on the southeastern portion of Ursh’s great territory. Gilgamenses idly spoke to himself as his own orbs drifted to the western territories of the Khaganate. Both shared a look between each other before finally beginning to speak, the raven haired thunder warrior voicing his target first.

“[b]The Ruined Hive of the Asiatic Dustfields[/b] will be conquered in the name of the Master. We would never expect Him to grant us trinkets, only that He understands that we will use our enemy’s weapons against them. The [b]Thirteenth’s Obsidian Crows[/b] will plunge into the depths for Unity.” Primarch Corvinius calmly stated, affixing their wargoal on the hololithic map with a single, midnight digit. The gaunt thunder warrior offered a short bow of his head, a light tap of his gauntlet against his chestplate, and backed away from the table’s edge. The amethystine knight nearby rose as he began to speak in earnest.

“I will not share the same sentiment as other commanders, Lord Sigilite, our Master would do us a great justice if he threw a bone or two to our feet. A relic from your treasury, a platoon of more dignified warriors there, or [i]another fresh batch of newly crafted genewarriors[/i].” Gilgamenses voice dripped with venom, carefully tiptoeing the line between subservient and defiant. His last words rang closer to an accusation rather than a request for reinforcement. Gray eyes glared at the feeble form of Malcador then turned to glower at the God-Slayer.  “The [b]Sixteenth’s Amethyst Tridents[/b] will plunge into [b]Khaganate[/b] territory and starve Ursh of their grasp on the Terrawatt Clans. Perhaps then some of us will gain proper recognition.” The amethystine Primarch pushed himself away from the table after annotating his wargoal over the tribute state of the [b]Russ Khaganate[/b].

Theadon looked up and down the map, but his eyes looked towards the north. “My warriors will enjoy the eternal nights in the north… I will tell them to move Europa at once before meeting them, we will do what we do best and cut a line of fire through their heartlands until we reach the eternal night of winter in the [b]Siber Ice Plains[/b] .” His good eye turned towards Gilgamenses and then back forward at the map. He rolled his shoulder letting it pop quietly as he just stared at the map. “But temper, temper, Gilgamenses, you have renown… You have prestige, your warriors are fine, I just hope that I can finish gutting the heartlands out from the north before the Urals are flattened.”   

Amalasuntha had been gazing down at the Thunder Warriors, content to let the Sigilite deal with their bickering and savagery until the end of the meeting. That was until Gilgamenses had spoken, his voice grated her ears like nails on chalk and her anger swelled with each passing word. The Black Hawk would have descended upon him in a fury, but her eyes merely burned into his head even as Theadon spoke. She could not resist, her own brand of venom spilling across the room as she spoke, “Worry about glory is a fool’s errand. Asking for relics, many beyond your control, is a death sentence. Make do with what you have, barbarian, just as  Aeternus and his God-Slayers do.”

Her words were not as diplomatic as Theadon’s and she certainly did not hide her hostility, everything from her posture to her gaze held only resentment. The Black Hawk was prepared to pounce on Gilgamenses further had he dared speak against her or  Malcador, only being content with him being brought back into place. The Venatarii’s lance remained hummed with deathly life as she made her threat to the Thunder Warrior clear. Though, it could be construed that her words were meant for all but the God-Slayers for their future desires and wants of the Imperium.

Malcador paid little heed to the bidding of the Thunder Warriors, the Sigilite’s attentions upon far more important matters than which of his Master’s princelings would raise the Raptor over the ruins of Kaspia. His thoughts were upon Sanctii and its promise, and the strange role he was thrusting upon the God-Slayers and how best to send the men of Thunder upon a mission of peace. That is, until, the most impudent and boastful of the Primarchs raised his voice, and the old man’s eyes were lit with an inner flame.

“You wish for new genewarriors, Gilgamenses? The freshest weapons from our lord’s forge? Why, I had feared none would volunteer for the honor,” the Sigilite said, clutching his staff tightly with a soft grin. “Amar,” he added, in a far kinder voice, to the woman who had stood behind him unnoticed and unremarked. “Ready your Firstborn, they shall march with the Amethyst Tridents. I trust that they shall prove their quality.”

With a wave of his hand, Malcador closed discussion upon the topic, his decree having been made. The true concern for this meeting had been ignored long enough. “Aeternus, I know I give you an unusual task. You shall be equipped with what information I have in my power to grant you,” the old man said to the First, settling back down upon his throne. “From what my agents have been able to glean, they are a prime candidate for Unity. They have kept the flame of civilization alive through the long terrors of Old Night, and have avoided the depredation of tyranny and strife, with a strong gene-stock free of mutation. They have maintained some semblance of democracy, though the details elude us as yet, with decisions made collectively by some sort of council. Many Standard Template Constructs are evident within their city, though it is unknown if they still possess the means to construct more.”

“Intriguingly, they have also maintained several voidships, including a venerable destroyer nigh on a kilometer in length - though for some reason they currently have established a lunar cordon. To take the city by force would be a slaughter, one that neither I nor my lord are keen to partake in, for their strength is vast and their treasures would surely be despoiled - to say nothing of your own losses. They maintain a military from among their citizenry, genehanced with arms and armor to rival and surpass your own. In addition, they have constructed a vast wall about the entirety of their city, inset in which are void shield generators.”

“As such,” Malcador said, staring the Thunder Warrior directly in the eyes, “it is the decision of the Emperor that they should be peaceably allied and brought beneath the auspice of the Raptor without bloodshed, as was done with the Achaemenids. This is your task, Aeternus Rex.”

The Primarch of the God-Slayers waited to respond as those beings similar to him began to leave in total. His dark eyes catch the seething form of Gilgamenses casting several proud, angry glares at members of their conclave before leaving. Bodiciia clapped Aeternus on the shoulder before taking her leave, followed only by Alexamandes gesturing to Theadon in a way that suggested the two will be drinking. Corvinius shared a knowing look with Rex, nodding to the God-Slayer before exiting the chamber. A small smile was shared with Theaddon as he left, hoping to once more fight alongside the Nightbringers.

Theadon stood and slowly raised his hands towards the two, “I hope to see you both soon, I have traveled far and although this was a brief meeting. I am glad to have seen you Brother.” He started making his way from the room, exiting the way he came in and disappearing into the halls. 

Once the last of his kindred had left, leaving the chamber eerily quiet, Aeternus would return to the table’s edge that he had previously sat. His eyes fell on Malcador’s intense gaze, an indescribable feeling building up in his frame as he mustered a response. Within the frame of his mind, there was no doubt that he would ever reject such a calling, for Unity was all of their desires. The question was not in how, but why the God-Slayers with what afflicts them?

“It shall be done, Lord Sigilite, Sanctii will fall under the Raptor. No matter the cost.” Aeternus solemnly stated, bending down on one knee and placing his fist against the Raptor affixed across his breastplate. The Primarch inclined his head once more before standing back to full height. With the acceptance of his task, Rex began to speak again in a quieter tone. He expected no small amount of retaliation for his next statement and prepared himself for Malcador or Amalasuntha’s fury. “If you would allow me, Malcador, then I would beseech you for further knowledge. Absolute victory must be achieved in His name.”

The Sigilite arched a brow at the Thunder Warrior’s request, his full attention upon the man. “Did you think I would withhold a weapon of any sort from one of my master’s warriors? Upon so dire a quest, to achieve so needful an aim? I have spoken what pitifully little we know of Sanctii to you already. Now go, be about your business, unless there is some other light of knowledge you wish enkindled.”

“There is one thing that I must ask, Lord Sigilite, yet it is not for additional information on Sanctii. That city’s fate was sealed the moment the order was spoken.” Aeternus began to speak, his voice steadily rising to a stalwart tone. He carefully chose the next words that were spoken, aware of the potential insinuations that could be picked apart from it. The warrior steeled himself nevertheless.

“My warriors suffer relentless afflictions, deviations that have been steadily handled between senior members of the First Legion, myself, and Lady Amalasuntha. Unity will be achieved regardless of our lives, but if there were a way to alleviate their flaws, then we could more efficiently execute our Master’s plans. These are the answers I seek in pursuit of greater victories.” The information requested was accompanied by a bowing of the thunder warrior’s head to the Sigilite. Never before had he asked such a thing. Aeternus had always pursued the wishes of their Master with brutal, relentless efficiency. Something in his ambitions had changed.

The ancient man’s face softened at that, something resembling guilt passing over him as he slumped down upon his chair. “You, and all the Thunder Warriors, are children born of need. I will not deny this. Shortcuts were, are, taken in the process of your creation - a brutish transfiguration that cannot be considered to have the nobility of science. We cast ourselves as barbarians in the atrocities committed to make you, and for that we cannot be forgiven.”

“The process is refined, of course. Strength is set aside for stability. Mass applicability for ideal candidates. The Astartes. You will never be them. You are far more than they can ever hope to be, but at a terrible price that they need never pay. I have had… thoughts considering what may be done for my lord’s first and truest soldiers. I wish I had something more for you, Primarch.”

A flicker of a saddened frown passed across Aeternus’ lips before returning to a tightlipped straightness typical of his stoic demeanor. His eyes reflected a buried grief behind a curtain of stalwartness. He had received his answer, regardless of whether it had been one that he ached for or one filled with empty platitudes.

“[i]I understand[/i]. I hope that our creation has, at the least, helped our Master achieve all that he wishes. Thank you, Malcador, for your candor. Sanctii will soon see the Raptor fly over it’s walls.” Aeternus raised his head once more, pressing one of his blackened gauntlets against his chestplate in a salute. He stepped back from the table, beginning to turn away to exit the chamber. Before the Primarch pressed the helmet over his head, he turned to regard Malcador once more.

“Perhaps, once Unity has been achieved, our Master will find a cure for our afflictions. It will be a glorious day when it arrives.” The Primarch of the God-Slayers said with a sad smile, promptly fitting the knightly helmet over his skull.

“Aeternus. Know this. Nothing my lord has wrought could last without your sacrifice.” As Malcador spoke, the weight of years hung heavily upon him, and he looked every day of his thousands of years of life.

Amalasuntha looked to Malcador, hearing his words, only to look back towards the Primarch with an indecipherable look of pity. It was not an emotion she was precisely known for or one that she knew she could feel, yet she felt it. Warm, yet cold words, came from the custodian, “The deeds of your progeny will be echoed far into the future, Aeternus. Our Emperor would be sure of it.”
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Credits: [@MarshalSolgriev] (Aeternus+Primarchs), [@Lauder](Lady Amalasuntha), [@grimely](Malcador), [@Jamesyco](Theadon)