Chapter 47 My Empire Is United as One!
Across Terra, millions paused their duties to watch the broadcast.
Work could wait.
Industrial quotas could wait.
Even devotional labor at the minting halls could wait — unofficially, of course.
In truth, entertainment within the Imperium remained scarce. Citizens labored, prayed, and slept in rhythm with the Emperor's vision. A Primarch's return ceremony was one of the few spectacles that belonged to the people.
Thus every household gathered before their screens.
The card draw had begun again.
A New Prince Appears
The landing ramp descended.
Ferrus Manus stepped from the craft.
The crowd assessed him in the way Terrans had quietly begun to do:
Not as handsome as the golden one.
Not as refined as the eastern prince.
Certainly less terrifying than the wolf.
But powerful.
Unmistakably powerful.
A blue card, perhaps — rare, formidable, dependable.
Cheers thundered across the port.
Ferrus raised one metallic hand in acknowledgment.
The roar doubled.
Brothers Meet
"You must be our newly returned brother."
Ferrus turned.
Standing before him:
Horus Lupercal
Mordecai Threxion
Leman Russ
Malcador stood several steps behind them, half-hidden behind armored giants. Ferrus had not even noticed him at first.
Remembering Yuki's description of his brothers, Ferrus extended his hand.
"I am Ferrus Manus. It is an honor."
Horus clasped his arm firmly.
"Horus Lupercal. Welcome, brother."
Mordecai Threxion inclined his head.
"Mordecai Threxion."
Russ grinned.
"Leman Russ."
Silence followed.
Ferrus blinked.
This… is not the atmosphere I was promised.
Malcador Attempts to Survive
Malcador, who had already received Yuki's psychic briefing, understood the situation.
It was a misunderstanding.
A simple sparring match.
Nothing more.
So why did the air feel like a battlefield before the first artillery strike?
He cleared his throat.
"I hear you fought the Princess. What occurred?"
Ferrus answered plainly.
"I requested a sparring match. Nothing more."
Malcador nearly sagged with relief.
Good. Resolved.
He looked sideways.
Horus frowned deeper.
Mordecai Threxion's brows drew together.
Russ watched carefully.
Horus even… sneered.
Malcador's soul aged five more years.
Princess, please return immediately.
Yuki Arrives
"Alright, alright — what are you all standing around for? The parade won't start itself."
Yuki descended from the sky and landed lightly beside them.
She had been halfway to Mars for resupply when Malcador's frantic psychic message arrived:
COME BACK. IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS BECOMING A BATTLEFIELD.
Yuki: ???
Now she found four Primarchs staring at each other like thunderheads.
Horus subtly signaled Russ.
Russ stepped forward and suddenly leaned in to sniff Yuki.
She recoiled.
"Russ! What are you doing?!"
He grinned.
"Long time no see, sister."
He exchanged a glance with Horus and Mordecai Threxion.
Message received:
No injuries.
No scent of blood.
No trauma.
Safe.
Horus immediately slung an arm over Ferrus's shoulder.
"Come, brother. Let Terra meet you."
The tension evaporated.
Malcador silently thanked every god humanity had ever invented.
Understanding the Cold Welcome
During the parade, Ferrus spoke freely with his brothers.
Their stiffness faded.
Meanwhile Yuki listened as Malcador explained the earlier tension.
She realized quickly:
They thought Ferrus had hurt her.
Russ's inspection confirmed otherwise.
Their attitude changed instantly.
She looked at them from the corner of her eye.
…I raised them well, she thought.
(Except Russ. He was not included in that evaluation.)
The Iron Hands Are Born
Ferrus met his Legion.
Formerly known as the Storm Walkers, they favored direct assault and overwhelming force.
Ferrus approved.
He renamed them:
The Iron Hands.
A name that reflected strength, endurance, and the supremacy of will over weakness.
Dinner & Philosophy
Time on Terra was brief. Meetings between brothers during the Crusade could be separated by decades.
At the banquet, Ferrus spoke:
"Let us spar, brothers."
Horus laughed.
"We have only just reunited. Let us not begin by breaking furniture."
Mordecai Threxion nodded.
Russ paused mid-bite and nodded as well.
Ferrus shrugged.
"If not combat, then forging. Competition reveals weakness."
They declined politely. None wished to embarrass themselves before a master smith.
Mordecai Threxion lifted his tea.
"Why is competition so important to you, brother?"
Ferrus answered without hesitation.
"It reveals flaws. Without flaws, there is no improvement."
He spoke of his duel with the Emperor.
Respect filled the room.
Russ paused chewing.
"You fought him… for days?"
"Yes."
"…and lived?"
Ferrus nodded.
Then he described his duel with Yuki.
"I was defeated. Completely."
Mordecai Threxion stared.
"Our sister is that strong?"
"Yes."
He looked around.
"You did not know?"
Silence.
Horus frowned.
He had seen her fight.
But never seriously.
They had all mistaken restraint for limitation.
Ferrus blinked — then understood.
"You believed I might have harmed her."
Awkward silence.
Horus scratched his head.
"…Yes."
Ferrus laughed heartily.
"I do not offend so easily."
Russ raised a drink.
"To misunderstandings."
Horus squinted.
"You just wanted to drink."
Laughter broke the tension.
Unity
The barriers between the brothers dissolved.
Who claimed the Primarchs would fracture the Imperium?
Where was this so-called division?
Where was this inevitable strife?
Meanwhile… Horus Has Realizations
Later.
In a secure chamber.
"Sister, I request Malcador's execution."
Yuki did not even look up from her documents.
"See? Impulsive again."
After investigating the rumor about her duel, Horus had reached a conclusion:
This had been orchestrated.
An informant.
Selective wording.
Timing.
Political leverage.
To Horus, the pattern was obvious.
Malcador had tried to sow discord among the Primarchs.
And that could not be tolerated.
Yuki Responds
"Horus," she asked calmly, "has anyone else heard you say this?"
"No."
She nodded.
Good.
Not catastrophic.
"Horus," she said gently, "do not believe only what you see. Look also for what you have not yet noticed."
"Father says the same thing! You say the same thing! Why will no one believe me?"
He left, furious.
Malcador Appears
Malcador manifested from the shadows and sat heavily.
"It is not his fault."
The message had come from an infiltrator observing the Seventh Legion's movements while attached to another unit. He had believed the news urgent.
He had acted.
Malcador had reported.
Nothing more.
Yet the damage was done.
Malcador sighed.
"What a mess."
The Root of the Conflict
Horus was not politically naïve.
He understood compromise.
He had won worlds through diplomacy.
But his core belief remained:
Discipline. Order. Integrity.
He could tolerate negotiation.
He could tolerate compromise.
He could not tolerate deception within the Imperium.
To Horus, Malcador's political maneuvering resembled poison.
Necessary perhaps — but still poison.
He believed tolerating it would doom the Imperium.
He wrote warnings.
Malcador did not change.
Therefore, in Horus's eyes, the conclusion was inevitable.
Malcador's Concern
"I fear conflict between us is unavoidable," Malcador admitted.
"That is survivable. But if it damages the Imperium…"
He did not finish.
Yuki smiled reassuringly.
"Do not worry, Uncle Ma. I have already selected people who can share your burden."
Somewhere in the galaxy, Guilliman paused mid-strategy briefing.
He shivered.
"…why do I feel suddenly concerned?"