Helioret system. Nelson, Nareth's personal pilot, guided the black Aquila Lander towards the Red Tear, the flagship of the Blood Angels.
In the passenger compartment, Nareth sat comfortably in a wide seat.
The Emperor had not clarified the chain of command between him and Sanguinius for this campaign during the war council.
Considering that Sanguinius had arrived in the Helioret system earlier, and that the Blood Angels, committing the bulk of their forces, had deployed two thousand more troops than the Shadows of Order three main Chapters, Nareth had taken the initiative to suggest visiting the Red Tear.
"A true work of art," remarked Arsena Dunne, gazing at the approaching voidship, a solemn, magnificent form.
From his angled perspective, the Primarch's attendant could see why it was named the Red Tear; it resembled a teardrop.
The engine bays and docking wings extending from its sides, along with the hull itself, formed the Blood Angels' Legion emblem.
"Indeed," agreed Thierry Vierra, Chapter Master of the Eighy.
Though the Red Tear was only ten kilometers long, smaller than any of the Legion's four Gloriana-class battleships, it was still a formidable warship, its forward hull bristling with lance batteries, macro cannons, and torpedo tubes.
The entire ship resembled a massive arrow adorned with bands of bright copper, bronze, and crimson steel.
The transparent dome at the prow looked like an unblinking eye, fixed upon its enemies.
Pell Koscheny, Chapter Master of the Eleventh, standing opposite him, studied the Red Tear appraisingly.
Its surface reminded him of vast, rust-colored deserts. He had heard that a catastrophic war had laid waste to Baal, the Blood Angels' homeworld.
The fusion of great destruction and ancient legacy had imbued the Blood Angels with their distinctive aesthetic, a sense of reverence for the past and a bitter awareness of harsh history.
Nareth had brought only three others with him to the Red Tear. Thomas the "Scrolls Professor" was assisting William Wood, Lord of the Twelfth Chapter and the "Marionettist," in controlling the Farseer of Magc'Sithraal.
The elegant Lander passed through the ship's long hull, climbing towards the towers that housed the bridge.
Decorations on the hull's upper edges and plating came into view: golden faces with intricately sculpted hair, bronze patterns inlaid into thruster paneling, and Baalite phrases covering the ship's surface.
The Lander drifted into the cavernous hangar bay. Several squads of the Blood Angels' Honour Guard were already waiting to greet the Primarch.
With the hiss of releasing pressure, the lights over the exit turned from red to green.
Nareth strode down the ramp, looking at the warriors in pure gold armor.
Their plate gleamed, polished to a near-glass sheen, just like the hangar bay itself.
Their angular faces resembled the pilasters and statues around them.
He bowed respectfully. "Lord Nareth, welcome to the Red Tear."
"I am Azkellon of the Sanguinary Guard. The Angel himself eagerly awaits your arrival."
Nareth nodded with a smile. "I, too, look forward to this meeting."
He led his three companions into a spacious chamber.
A coffered ceiling, supported by rows of columns, was emblazoned with the seals of the Blood Angels' homeworld.
Beneath the ceiling, a crimson wall depicted the Blood Angels' legion fortress, the Angel's Fall.
A bronze vase sat upon a brass table. At the room's center stood a basalt sculpture of idealized humans battling a coiling serpent.
Pell felt a slight unease. Everything was so symmetrical, so proportionally arranged, an obvious and pervasive harmony.
The symmetry extended from outward ornamentation to inner principle.
The architect must have possessed a soul of both reason and emotion.
Pell looked at that architect, Sanguinius.
He was not merely beautiful. His smooth, pale face was like the golden masks adorning the flagship's outer hull.
The only apparent flaw was his snow-white wings. By the standards of most Imperial worlds, he would be considered a bilaterally symmetrical mutant.
Only the Catholic myths of the Old Night would have considered wings a symbol of sanctity, a concept strictly forbidden by the Imperial Truth.
His movements towards the Black Emperor had a dancer's grace.
Sanguinius held two goblets. "To brotherhood."
Nareth thought of Sanguinius, facing the maddened Wraithknight, shifting from a skirmishing tactic to a sudden, forceful assault. "To the understanding forged in shared battle."
He raised the goblet, drank the wine, and praised it.
"The taste is mellow, rich, and full-bodied. A rival to the fine wines of Byzance."
Sanguinius gestured beside him. Nareth followed him towards two large, ivory-upholstered mahogany chairs.
On Sanguinius's other side walked his Blood Chief, Raldoron.
Raldoron looked at the Knight Lord. It was his battle group that had reached the strategic node before Raldoron's own, achieving their objective, drawing the main force of Magc'Sithraal.
Observing Vierra up close, out of combat, Raldoron was even more struck by his stature. He was taller than any Astartes he had ever seen.
Feeling Raldoron's gaze, Thierry met it with his obsidian eyes.
In an instant, they assessed each other.
Their gazes met, and each read in the other's eyes a purely martial spirit.
They looked away, each taking their place beside their Primarch.
Sanguinius sat, folding his wings like a shimmering silver cape.
He spoke, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"The Librarians played a vital role in our fight against the maddened xenos witches. They guided us through the mist. They stood against the powerful xenos psykers."
"But they paid a heavy price..."
Sanguinius paused for a moment before continuing. "Fifty-two of them fell."
Nareth folded his golden wings. The burning fragments upon them glowed brighter than the lumen lights above.
"My Librarians suffered one hundred and forty-nine casualties."
The actual number of Shadows of Order slain was forty-seven. Among the "Librarians," fifty-eight were Court members.
The rest, of course, were inflations.
Though fighting alongside the Blood Angels, the Shadow of Order had been dispersed through the mist for much of the engagement, and Nareth had taken the opportunity to inflate his casualties.
The actual total of one thousand five hundred and ninety-two was inflated to two thousand seven hundred and forty-three, exceeding the Blood Angels' two thousand one hundred and eighty-six.
"They were all experienced Librarians..."
A flicker passed through Nareth's eyes. "And now they can no longer serve the Legion."
For an Astartes entombed in the armoured sarcophagus of a Dreadnought, the neural interfaces would cause immense mental strain.
For a psyker, it would mean death from endless madness and malignant psychic mutation, or even a psychic explosion that would tear apart any allies nearby.
To date, no Librarian Dreadnought existed.
"We should share this information with Magnus and the Khan. Propose the idea of developing a Dreadnought suitable for Librarians."
Nareth recalled that Magnus, with his transcendent intellect, had solved this problem, creating the Osiron Dreadnought.
Before the Council of Nikaea, he had selflessly shared his creation with his brother Primarchs. Most, however, had declined to adopt it.
Sanguinius's eyes gleamed. "A fine idea."
"We'll send them a joint after-action report, outlining the proposal."
As Arsena, the Primarch's attendant, and Raldoron, the Angel's Blood Chief, moved to the control console and began reviewing datapads, Sanguinius looked at Nareth.
"I intend to hurl the xenos craftworld into the star. What are your thoughts?"
Nareth shook his head slightly. "It still has value."
"By studying it, we can gain insights into the xenos' secrets. This will aid us in fighting them."
Sanguinius thought of Hannibal, who had been censured for harboring xenos. His voice was tinged with sadness.
"Father abhors the xenos. We must abide by..."
Nareth understood. "I know."
"I will not overstep. I only wish to study it."
Sanguinius, thinking of Nareth's rules for the Shadow of Order and the order he had brought to so many worlds, said nothing more.
After spending five standard hours aboard the Red Tear, exchanging experiences on rebuilding their Legions, Nareth boarded the black Aquila Lander .
Standing before him, he addressed his silver-haired Primarch's attendant.
"The Twelfth Chapter and the Librarius contingent will remain in the Helioret system to study the wreckage of the Magc'Sithraal craftworld."
"By your will." Arsena acknowledged, then immediately reported.
"The commander of the Sisters of Silence contingent has arrived aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty."
A flicker passed through Nareth's eyes. "I will receive her in my office."
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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