Within Segmentum Ultima, inside the borders of Ultramar, lies the Veridian System, yet it remains outside the jurisdiction of the Ultramarines.
Calth.
The beautiful blue-white star of Veridian hung like a pearl in the sky, its soft light spreading across the land.
The fusion reactor on the Nereid River powered Numina City and the newly built Fort Korkas of the Shadows of Order.
The reactor's turbine blades drew water, washing away the carbon grime stuck to them.
The water, cascading down, deposited layers of rich, black silt at the river's mouth, making the valley the most fertile land on Calth.
Here, retired soldier Ollanius Persson owned a plot of twenty acres of rich, black soil.
Ollanius had retired after the Keresova Campaign twelve standard years prior. He had received his discharge papers and an honor ribbon.
He had also exchanged his military service for land proportional to his years of service.
Of course, as was customary, the acreage was rounded down.
Ollanius was no stranger to Imperial policy, nor to this kind of life.
For the last few centuries, he had repeatedly lived the life of Soldier Persson: serving in various Imperial armies, fighting, accumulating honors, retiring, 'dying'...
This time, Ollanius had decided to rest a little longer.
He had scoffed at the pamphlets' headlines: "A New World, A New Calth," and the rosy promises within: "Soldiers, Lord Nareth welcomes you to Calth to build a new life," "You will share the future with the Shadow of Order in your new home."
When, he thought, had a new world ever belonged to soldiers?
But as he boarded the transport ship, he began to notice a difference.
Every ounce of shipping capacity was precious in the Great Crusade; Soldier Persson was usually just extra cargo on a livestock transport.
He was used to spending years in the lower decks, breathing the foul mix of inadequate ventilation and the stench of 'cargo,' only to arrive at some leaky, broken-down world.
This time, he had arrived at Calth in just one year, and as a person.
The following eleven years had defied every memory Soldier Persson had of retirement.
Ollanius breathed in the scent of cabbage and beets drifting on the air, looked at his fields of vibrant flowers, and the wrinkles on his face eased.
He enjoyed the riot of colors, though the flowers were only briefly his. Soon, they would be sent to Numina City to adorn the halls and robes of the nobles.
Soldier Persson, called the loading servitor, Glafort, who had accompanied Ollanius from the army.
Its simple programming couldn't change the honorific.
"Time to stop."
"Girls!" Ollanius called to the young women picking and packing flowers.
"Load today's harvest onto the cart. Your work for the day is done."
Ollanius hired the young women from nearby farms to help him pick flowers. He hired boys to harvest the flax.
His land was never idle; in the winter, he planted flax for the local textile industry.
"Yes, Soldier Persson," a dark-skinned girl said, carrying dozens of bouquets to him.
"My father came back from the city yesterday. He said the Emperor has named a Warmaster."
"I asked him what a Warmaster was, and he said he wasn't sure. Just a general who commands the soldiers and the Astartes giants."
"Soldier Persson, do you know what a Warmaster is?"
"Warmaster..." Ollanius savored the familiar yet foreign word. Countless images flashed through his mind.
Forty-five thousand years of memory flowed slowly, settling on a moment thirty-one thousand years ago.
Ollanius gazed silently towards Terra. He had once been his master's, the Emperor of Mankind's, first Warmaster.
He had commanded all the Emperor's armies. They had fought side-by-side, time and again.
Until... Eastern Phoenicia... the Cognitae..
'I was your first Warmaster. Now you have a new one.'
"Warmaster. Of course I know."
"The Warmaster is the commander of the Emperor's armies, the extension of His will, His most trusted military commander..."
Seeing the girls' eyes glaze over, Ollanius stopped his lecture.
"In short, all the Emperor's soldiers, not just the Auxiliaries and the ships, but the Astartes, and even the great machines, the Knights and Titans..."
"Everyone who fights, they all answer to the Warmaster."
"I see. So he's the boss of everyone, including Lord Nareth?"
"Hmm?" Ollanius was taken aback. "Is Lord Nareth not the Warmaster?"
Ollanius knew the Emperor well enough to know He would not confine Himself to the role of commander.
He would appoint a Warmaster eventually.
Ollanius, observing the Emperor's sons over countless campaigns, had thought Nareth was the best choice.
He was often able to balance the needs of the various Legions, even the Auxiliaries.
During his eleven years on Calth, he had seen it with his own eyes.
It was different from other Imperial worlds. The Shadow of Order had shaped it into an orderly and prosperous world.
More importantly, the people were stable and hopeful, not oppressed and drained dry, like the worlds he had retired to before.
This, he thought, was what the Great Crusade should be.
"I was shocked when I heard. Lord Nareth should be the Warmaster," the girl said indignantly.
"The Emperor has no vision."
Ollanius's lips twitched. He wondered what his old friend, his former master, would think of her words.
His smile faded. He spoke seriously, warning the girls.
"Never speak like that again. Any disrespect to the Emperor could bring punishment!"
The girls' faces paled at Ollanius's stern expression.
"Persson... you're scary..."
"I think you're worse than..." The girl thought for a moment, then remembered the highest-ranking officer she'd seen. "the reactor guard captain."
Ollanius relaxed, smiling.
"The Warmaster is Horus, isn't it?"
Only Horus's achievements surpassed Nareth's. And there were always rumors among the Auxiliaries that the first-found son was the Emperor's favorite.
Now, it seemed, they were not rumors.
His old master must favor Horus. Though He rarely showed such emotion, it was not impossible.
"Yes," the girl nodded.
"Father said he was at Ullanor..."
"He sounds impressive too, but I still think Lord Nareth is more impressive." The girl, still shaken by Soldier Persson's sudden intensity, didn't dare speak out of turn, but she still believed Lord Nareth was the best and should have been Warmaster.
From the girl's story, Ollanius pieced together the events: Horus slaying the Ork Warlord, being named Warmaster, and the grand triumph at Ullanor.
He saw the pinnacle of the Great Crusade: the Emperor placing the victory wreath on Horus's head.
Ollanius gathered his thoughts, said goodbye to the girls, and walked home with Glafort.
He looked at the loading servitor, its massive arms, once for loading ammunition, now replaced with basic tools, humming as it pushed the cart of neatly arranged bouquets.
He watched Glafort push the cart into the flower shed, then walked towards his white-painted cottage.
He opened the door, his gaze lingering on the lasrifle above the fireplace.
"You and humanity no longer need an old soldier like me."
"Soldier Persson, it's time to truly retire."
Ollanius recalled scenes from the past. He was the oldest, seven thousand years older than the Emperor.
He had lived through all recorded human history, even the legendary ages of myth.
He had been an Argonaut. He had fought at Austerlitz, at Verdunn, in the 73rd Eastward Campaign...
Ollanius shook his head ruefully, pushing it all aside.
He walked to the shower, washing away the sweat of his labor, burying the memories of war with it.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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