Sorry for the long hiatus. I'm drowning in things to study and just needed a break, so here you go. I hope you enjoy.
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Every day, more warships appeared above Macragge.
They emerged from the Warp alone, in squadrons or at the head of entire fleets. Some arrived damaged, with their armour scorched and their crews exhausted from forcing a path through the Warp storms. Others popped into realspace in perfect formation, weapons ready, with their captains unwilling to trust even the thought of a miracle that had brought them here.
All had come for the same reason, however.
Roboute Guilliman had returned—a living primarch, a living son of the Emperor of Mankind.
From the high command chamber of the Fortress of Hera, Guilliman watched tactical projections fill with new fleet markers. Gerhard had been working almost nonstop to make things easier for the primarch and therefore more efficient.
The skies over Guilliman's home world had become crowded with massive vessels from every branch of the Imperium. Gerhard compared him to a rockstar of old Terra who was about to give a concert.
The Dark Angels only sent a small delegation. Their Strike Cruiser remained at the edge of the system while a handful of robed officers travelled to Macragge to confirm the reports for themselves. They were respectful, but guarded and, as per usual, secretive and mysterious. They watched Guilliman closely, as though expecting some flaw in the illusion to reveal itself. But Gerhard told Roboute that they were not corrupted or had too many alternative motives, so it was fine.
The Raven Guard behaved much the same. Their representatives arrived without ceremony, studied the Primarch from beneath the shadows of their hoods, and quietly transmitted their findings to their Chapter, then moved into the shadows of the buildings.
Guilliman understood their caution, especially after Gerhard had told him about some of the Imperium's past 10,000 years' history. The Imperium was full of false prophets, daemonic tricks and fabricated miracles. If he had heard that one of his brothers had suddenly returned after ten thousand years, he would have demanded proof as well.
Unlike others, it was rather easy to confirm it, though. A Primarch had a presence unlike any other.
Other Space Marines required no such reassurance, like the more cautious and crafty chapters.
Bands of Space Wolves came howling into the Macragge system, broadcasting challenges, oaths and songs across military vox-channels. The White Scars arrived with far less noise, but their ships crossed the system with incredible speed, which Macragge's defence fleet might have mistook for an attack, had Gerhard not told them what it actually was.
Why they chose such an approach was anybody's guess.
Then came the Black Templars.
Their vessels announced themselves with cathedral bells broadcast across the system and at the centre of their formation sailed the Strike Cruiser Scourge of Heretics, its black hull covered in purity seals, devotional script and the scars of countless past battles.
Their Thunderhawks landed in the outer courtyard of the Fortress of Hera, where Marshal Amalrich was waiting for them.
He stood alone beneath the shadow of Guilliman's fortress, still wearing the battered armour in which he had fought inside the Primarch's shrine. Of all the Black Templars who had fought beside him in the shrine, Amalrich alone had survived, simply because he had refused Gerhard's 'grace' to heal them.
They were idiots and lost causes, honestly. Gerhard wasn't that sad to see them die out. Less problems down the line. How the Black Templars, the Inquisition and the Ecclesiarchy were going to react... was anyone's guess.
It was a bit of a mess, the Imperium.
The ramps of the first Thunderhawk struck the ground, and Black Templars marched out. At their head walked three Chaplains, their skull-faced helms turned towards the lone Marshal.
For several seconds, no one spoke. Then Amalrich dropped to one knee.
"My brothers."
The leading Chaplain stopped before him.
Amalrich raised his head. His face showed exhaustion, but there was something else in his eyes—an intensity that bordered upon madness. He had seen the Primarch rise. He had watched Guilliman step from the stasis field and destroy the enemies surrounding his throne. For Amalrich, there could be no doubt about what had happened.
But he had also seen the magnificence of Gerhard and his immense capabilities against the forces of Chaos. And yet, he was conflicted. He hated him as much as he loved and revered him. It made sense, since Gerhard was the most powerful Blank if he wished and therefore evoked the grossest forms of dread from all those who were 'alive'.
And yet, he chose to focus on the Primarch. The Emperor had reached into the darkness and returned His son to humanity. The Chaplain studied him before placing one gauntleted hand upon the Marshal's shoulder.
"You stood before the Avenging Son at the hour of his rebirth," he said. "You alone survived when your brothers sacrificed their lives."
"They held the enemy long enough," Amalrich replied. "Their deaths bought the Primarch back."
"And now the Emperor has returned Him to us."
"The Emperor's hand is upon him," the Chaplain declared.
The assembled Black Templars struck their fists against their breastplates.
"No pity! No remorse! No fear!"
Their cry shook the courtyard.
...
Astropaths across the Imperium had dreamed of a giant in blue armour rising from a field of fire. Seers spoke of a new star burning in the east. Imperial nobles woke screaming Guilliman's name despite never having seen his face. Wherever the light of the Astronomican could still be perceived, rumours of the returned Primarch spread.
Those who trusted such visions came to Ultramar.
Imperial Navy battleships arrived with their escort squadrons and formally placed themselves at Guilliman's command.
The Adeptus Mechanicus sent red-hulled fleets filled with Skitarii, battle automata and immense coffin-ships carrying the god-engines of the Titan Legions. Their Tech-Priests claimed that logic had guided them, to which Gerhard rolled his eyes.
Even the Adeptus Administratum came and with them, their haughty behaviour that befitted the most powerful faction in the Imperium.
Its representatives arrived in slow processions of shuttles, bringing scribes, logisticians and mountains of paperwork. They appeared ready to document the miracle, catalogue every army gathering around it and then argue for several decades about which department possessed the authority to hold the mountains of paper.
Guilliman welcomed the soldiers, and he tolerated the administrators. He simply told them to address Gerhard and made them his problem. Something Gerhard hadn't taken lightly. He almost deserted right there and became a heretic.
And yet, in the spirit of the Grim Dark Future, this was the start of something that would grow into a very peculiar relationship. One that would have a monstrous impact on the Imperium's future.
Then the Adeptus Ministorum arrived.
... oh bother...
The cyber-synod descended upon the Fortress of Hera surrounded by servo-skulls, incense and chanting priests. Its members had replaced much of their bodies with machinery. Several were carried upon mechanical thrones. Others moved on clusters of metal limbs, trailing cables, censers and parchment behind them.
Vox-grilles had been built into their throats so that every statement emerged as a distorted chorus.
They demanded an audience with the Primarch, because of course they did. The entitlement was through the roof.
Guilliman received them in one of the fortress's great assembly halls. Saint Celestine stood to his right. Inquisitor Greyfax waited nearby as well, one hand resting upon the head of her power maul. She had become 'team G-Man' and was going to fight for it as feverishly as she had for... whatever she did before.
The members of the Synod stared at Guilliman with a desire and greed he found deeply unpleasant. Naturally, he understood what was happening, since Gerhard had been so gracious as to bother explaining in detail what kind of clusterfuck the Imperium had become, especially the Adeptus Ministorum after Goge Vandire.
The leading Cardinal raised several mechanical arms.
"The being before us has been confirmed as Roboute Guilliman, returned Primarch of the XIII Legion, Avenging Son of the Emperor and sacred guardian of mankind."
"I am not sacred," Guilliman said.
His deep voice permeated the air and caused the Synod to hesitate. Its members looked at one another, communicating through bursts of machine code and whispered prayer.
"The divine nature of the Primarch is established within the holy teachings of the Ecclesiarchy," the Cardinal replied.
"Then your teachings are wrong."
The words silenced the hall. Several priests recoiled and gasped as if Guilliman had struck them. Greyfax closed her eyes briefly. Celestine remained calm, though Guilliman noticed the tension in her expression.
The Cardinal's mechanical limbs twitched.
"The synod must proclaim your beatification before the faithful."
"No."
The answer came without hesitation. Guilliman rose from his throne.
"My father denied that He was a god. We fought to free humanity from superstition, yet I awaken to find the Imperium drowning in it. You will not use me to strengthen a lie."
He turned and walked from the chamber before the Synod could respond, much to the uproar of the Ministorum Priests.
Celestine and Greyfax found him conversing with Gerhard.
"My Lord, you shouldn't simply dismiss them," Greyfax said.
"I just did."
"The Ecclesiarchy commands the loyalty of billions of people," she continued. "Its priests reach worlds where Imperial law is little more than a rumour. Its words can raise armies, crush rebellions or begin them."
"And that makes their beliefs true?"
"No," Greyfax replied. "It makes them powerful."
Guilliman looked towards Celestine. The Living Saint met his gaze without fear.
"I understand your concerns, my Lord. But no matter their political reasoning, the truth remains. The Emperor is a--"
"Don't!"
"They will proclaim you holy whether you grant them permission or not," she said. "If you reject them publicly, many will decide that you are an impostor. Others will call your words a test of faith and worship you even more fiercely."
In the age Guilliman remembered, reason had been a weapon against the darkness. Now reason itself had become suspicious and heretical. Humanity's ignorance was so deeply rooted that tearing it away too quickly would bring the entire Imperium down with it.
He turned to Gerhard, who was still typing away on his screen. Feeling the Primarch's gaze, he looked up and nodded.
"Not even you can change the lies that have taken root and grown for thousands of years. If you wish to change this, the slow approach must be taken. Having the Ecchlesiarchy against you is not favourable. Besides, think about the amount of power you will hold if you control the head who is a member of the High Lords of Terra.
Besides, no one thinks anymore. Change the words in the scholas books slightly over the span of a few years, and they will preach whatever you want them to. It's actually an immense risk that Titsnitch uses to turn entire worlds. But very effective, nonetheless."
...
"Besides, I think you should converse with your father before dismissing them outright. Because no matter what the Emperor was 10 millennia ago, it is hard to say what exactly he is now," Gerhard finished.
"Very well," he said at last. "They may make their proclamation. I will not repeat their claims, and I will not declare myself a god."
"They will consider your silence divine humility," Greyfax warned.
Guilliman released a long breath.
"Of course they will."
The proclamation was made the following day.
Millions gathered upon Macragge while countless more watched through pict-feeds transmitted across the system. The cyber-synod declared Guilliman's return a sacred miracle and named him the Emperor's living son, sent back to save mankind in its darkest hour.
Soldiers fell to their knees, priests wept, and bells rang from the fortress to the ships in orbit. Across the planet, soldiers from hundreds of worlds raised their weapons and shouted Guilliman's name. At least, the Astartes weren't part of that... well, most of them, at least.
The Primarch did not believe himself divine. He did not accept the Ecclesiarchy's teachings, and he felt no pride in the worship directed at him.
But he saw what their faith had created. Gerhard was right, and if his words were to be believed, then his father had truly become something other than what he was initially.
.
Not long after this, the armies of reconquest were finally ready to set out. Guilliman, the returned Primarch, led them into battle with relief. Relieved to get back to something he understood and preferred to dealing with the faithful fools.
The first target was the Macragge System itself. Several worlds belonging to the system had been taken and occupied by the forces of Chaos, and he would meet them with the fist of all his anger he had accumulated over 10,000 years.
On the hive world of Ardium, an Iron Warriors warband called the Bitter Sons had taken over one of the planet's three underground hives, heavily fortifying its complex tunnel networks.
Guilliman teamed up with the surviving Auxilia garrisons from hives Geodrane and Tarnis and was accompanied by Gerhard, Hans and the Kastelan Battle Golem.
Together, he led elements of the Ultramarines 4th and 6th Companies through a subterranean nightmare to assault Hive Magmaria. The close-quarters combat was brutal. The heavily outnumbered Iron Warriors fought to the bitter end, holding their defensive lines until the last man fell.
Bodies piled up so high they blocked entire mag tunnels, and enough blood spilt into the under sump that it flooded out of the hive's drainage grates.
Thanks to Gerhard and the seriously overpowered Kastelan Golem, the heaviest settlements could be brute-forced and ultimately secured a blood-soaked Guilliman and his forces the victory.
Meanwhile, the shrine world of Laphis hosted the liberation's largest space battle. The Ultramar Defence Fleet clashed with the Alpha Legion ships blockading the planet. Marneus Calgar led the attack from the captain's chair of the ancient flagship, Macragge's Honour.
The Ultramarines' fleet aggressively pushed into orbit, their heavy guns driving away the Alpha Legion ships that had been bombarding the surface. However, the initial success quickly took a dark turn. A group of retreating Imperial cargo ships turned out to be hijacked by Alpha Legion cultists.
Rigged with massive explosives, these suicide ships rammed into the Ultramarines' fleet, crippling several vessels.
But Calgar had anticipated this kind of trap. He unleashed a backup plan: a reserve fleet of fast Strike Cruisers and frigates ambushed the enemy from behind Laphis' third moon, Aurora.
Simultaneously, elite strike teams, including Ultramarines Techmarines, dropped onto the planet and successfully rebooted the world's damaged orbital defence grid.
Trapped in a three-way crossfire, the Alpha Legion fleet was destroyed, reduced to a ring of floating debris orbiting the shrine world.
After the Macragge System was finally secured following more battles, they turned their sights towards the rest of the former 500 worlds that originally belonged to Ultramar.
And it was then that Gerhard was finally finished with his 'project' and got to use it in a campaign of his own.