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Chapter 68: The Lord of Ultramar's Triumphant Return
"Alpharius?" Russ frowned, his wolf-keen instincts stirring. "You claim brotherhood with us, yet neither have I laid eyes upon you nor heard your name spoken."
Angron's scarred features mirrored the same bewilderment. "No word has reached us of any Primarch's recent return!"
Alpharius straightened against the wall, his bearing revealing the inherent nobility shared by all gene-sons of the Emperor.
"I was the first of our father's children to return to His side, even before the Great Crusade began under his might. To protect me and mislead our enemies, the Emperor had erased all records of my existence."
"Your ignorance of my presence is entirely expected."
Angron and Russ exchanged meaningful glances. Their father's propensity for secrecy ran deeper than either had imagined.
The Twentieth Primarch had returned in the earliest days, yet the Emperor had never acknowledged his presence. He had even permitted Horus to claim the title of First Found.
Russ's lips curled in sardonic amusement at the thought of the Warmaster.
"Today proves most fortuitous indeed, does it not, Angron?"
The World Eater's Primarch appeared momentarily confused. "Fortuitous? In what manner?"
"Horus will not enjoy today's revelations," Russ said, a predatory glint in his eye. Only then did understanding dawn on Angron's face.
Horus had long basked in recognition as the First Found Son. Alpharius's emergence would utterly shatter that distinction.
For absolute certainty, Russ pressed for further inquiry. "You truly returned before our father unified Terra's surface?"
Alpharius nodded gravely. "Indeed."
Russ's laughter echoed through the corridor. "Then by all rights, you are the First Found?"
"In every meaningful sense, that distinction belongs to me."
"Come then, brother. Allow me to introduce you to our siblings."
Russ seized Alpharius's arm with characteristic directness. Together, they left the corridor and made their way toward the communal dining hall, where the other Primarchs would be gathering for their evening repast.
Despite their various conflicts and rivalries, the gene-sons maintained the pretense of fraternal unity during shared meals, a display orchestrated for their father's approval.
The Imperial Palace Refectorium
Alpharius's appearance, claiming precedence as the first returned Primarch, sent ripples of shock through the assembled gene-sons.
Horus stood frozen, his noble features registering profound dismay. He had spent considerable effort competing with the Lion for recognition as eldest son and heir apparent.
Recent events had seen the Lion's prestige eclipse his own, particularly after the First Legion's commander gained their father's explicit favor. The First Legion represented the Emperor's inaugural Legion, their battle-honors stretching back to Terra's earliest campaigns.
Though the Sixteenth Legion had performed admirably since Horus's return, their achievements paled before the First Legion's accumulated glory.
Now, even his treasured title of First Found faced usurpation.
The weight of diminished status pressed upon him like a physical burden.
"Don't lose hope so easily, brother," Sanguinius said softly, his expression radiating compassion.
"The Great Crusade has barely commenced. Temporary setbacks mean nothing; victory belongs to those who endure until the final hour."
Horus cast his angelic brother a look of profound gratitude.
"Your kindness honors you, Sanguinius. In these dark moments, your words bring solace."
Russ gestured toward Alpharius's borrowed battle-dress.
"If we're truly brothers, why use deception instead of revealing yourself? Why take another's identity?"
"That heraldry, raven's wing upon emerald field, marks you as wearing Dark Angels livery. Where rests this armor's rightful owner?"
"The Astartes whose colors I borrowed is unconscious in a stasis pod," Alpharius replied, unapologetic. "I needed time to observe, to see if any of you had been corrupted by the enemy."
"What traces might our enemies have left upon us?" Konrad Curze's voice emerged from the shadows like a whispered threat, his words carrying ominous weight.
"Our father has spoken similarly," Rogal Dorn added, his fortress-builder's mind seeking concrete answers. "Do you possess knowledge of our enemy's identity?"
"My understanding remains fragmentary," Alpharius admitted. "Yet I am forbidden to share even these limited insights."
Disappointment registered across multiple faces. All burned with curiosity regarding the powers that had scattered them across the galaxy's breadth.
"Why have you ordered such quantities of fried potatoes?" Alpharius inquired, noting an incongruity.
Beyond the standard feast and wine, the clatter of utensils and the aroma of fried tubers mixed with the tang of red sauce, occupying a third of the table's surface.
"Ordering such fare has become... customary," the Lion replied, scratching his head in apparent confusion. "Though the reasoning escapes me now."
"I retain only vague recollections of someone claiming that mastery over the most delicious fried preparations could secure positions such as Warmaster or Regent."
Sanguinius added thoughtfully, "Not merely high office, but the revelation of all secrets as well."
Alpharius stared in bewilderment, his expression flickering between disbelief and reluctant amusement.
What manner of organization selected supreme commanders based on culinary achievements with processed vegetables?
The Twentieth Primarch's appearance left his brothers desperate for answers. They required an immediate audience with their father.
Imperial Laboratory Complex
At that moment, the Emperor pursued experimental verification within His sanctified laboratories, testing technologies acquired from the Eternal Universe for compatibility with local reality.
Upon learning that Angron and the Lion had discovered Alpharius's infiltration, the Raven turned to Valdor with obvious delight.
"Your vigil has failed, Custodian. Perhaps Terra's pond duty awaits your return."
"Alpharius penetrated the Imperial Palace undetected. Such negligence demands consequence."
Valdor's jaw tightened with barely contained irritation. "I must inform you that Terra's population expansion and infrastructure development have eliminated all natural ponds."
"No matter," the Raven replied with malicious cheer. "I shall request that Malcador construct one specially for your assignment."
Valdor struggled against the urge toward violence.
"The Twentieth merely adopted an Astartes guise for infiltration. Battle-brothers move freely between vessels and installationsādeception required minimal effort."
"The Adeptus Custodes possess no precognitive abilities. Detecting him from initial arrival was impossible."
The Raven cackled with undiminished pleasure.
"Excuses matter little. I care only for your prompt reassignment to pond-guarding duties. Such dereliction cannot stand unpunished."
"You seek petty revenge," Valdor accused, "merely because I called you irritating within the Eternal Universe."
"Absolutely not," the Raven protested, turning away with transparent insincerity.
"I harbor no capacity for such pettiness. My assessment derives purely from objective judgment of your failures."
"Truly objective?" Valdor studied the creature with calculating eyes before continuing.
"Terra's agricultural researchers have developed new potato varieties with ice-crystal texture. When prepared as fried strips, they achieve unprecedented crispness."
The Raven's entire demeanor transformed instantly. "Valdor represents the Imperium's greatest asset! Without his guidance, our realm would surely collapse into ruin!" The laboratory echoed with the faint hum of machinery and the sterile scent of antiseptic.
"Pond duty? Unthinkable! Promotion, immediate elevation is required!"
"I shall personally recommend that the Emperor appoint Valdor as Grand Marshal of all Imperial forces!"
The Emperor ignored His subordinates' theatrical dispute, focusing entirely upon mass-energy conversion protocols and industrial replication systems.
Once these technologies were successfully integrated, the Imperium could produce armies and equipment at unprecedented scales.
The Great Crusade would become as simple as breathing.
Several days passed without the Primarchs gaining audience with their father, yet another gene-son's return commanded their attention.
Custodian squadrons dispatched to the Macragge system had located the Thirteenth Primarch.
Upon discovery, he had been constructing warships, recruiting military forces, and planning expeditionary campaigns to restore humanity's lost glory.
Learning of his true origins and the Imperium's existence, the Thirteenth bid farewell to his adoptive mother and accompanied the Custodians to meet his genetic progenitor.
His escort included more than a dozen warships from Macragge's naval forces.
The Thirteenth commanded immense respect among his adopted people. Local military commanders refused to allow their sovereign to depart with unknown warriors without substantial protection.
Elite formations accompanied him throughout the journey to Terra, banners fluttering and armor glinting under the shipboard lights.
Without question, the Thirteenth's return achieved the highest profile among all recovered Primarchs.
None of his previously found brothers had arrived with entire fleets in attendance.
"Does he consider himself some manner of king?" Horus muttered, tension creeping into his usually confident tone as he watched the approaching vessels. "Why does he bring an army to this reunion?"
A more formidable rival than the Lion had apparently emerged.
Angron's scarred features twisted with cynical amusement. "He appears less interested in meeting our father than in conducting military conquest."
The Lion added with characteristic terseness, "Perhaps his true intention involves claiming the Emperor's throne for himself."
Ā
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