Achil Hysman.
Greave Atens.
Occus Kane.
Garrison Conmo.
These four were the power behind Aurelian IV's throne.
Behind them stood their subordinates—Busir Hysman, Kans Atens, Scoria Kane, and others.
Twenty-three people in a single line.
Under the gaze of dozens of Iron Hands warriors, and Ferrus Manus himself.
Several of them had begun to tremble.
Ferrus spoke, his voice filling the silent bridge:
"You held the line against Warp-born incursion for twenty-eight days."
"Casualties: approximately four hundred thousand PDF, approximately one hundred and eighty thousand local household guard, thirty-one Knight armours destroyed, all Psykers killed in action."
He paused, letting his gaze move slowly across each face.
"From a purely military standpoint, your performance was... adequate."
The faction leaders let their shoulders relax—fractionally.
The next second.
"From an administrative standpoint, your performance was a catastrophe."
The hololithic display shifted to an eighty-year timeline.
"Imperial Year 894.M30—when the Iron Hands Legion departed, Aurelian IV had a population of thirty-two billion. A complete planetary defence grid. Twenty-seven standard hive cities. Twenty-three operational orbital defence platforms."
"Eighty years later: population has fallen to twenty-three point five billion. PDF equipment has regressed two full generations. Only nine orbital platforms remain functional."
Ferrus dragged his finger along the timeline, pausing at several key points.
"And during that same period, the collective private assets of the four major factions grew by... twenty-two thousand four hundred percent?"
"Knight armour count went from zero to fifty-one—all retired patterns sourced from Mechanicus armouries."
"The Psyker families went from exile descendants to a dynasty with a stranglehold on the education sector."
"The merchant guild controls eighty-seven percent of mineral exports."
His voice dropped steadily colder.
"Mars swore to my father that they would steward this world properly. That they would provide stable logistical support for the Great Crusade."
"And the result?"
He looked directly at Occus Kane.
"Does the Mechanicus have anything to say for itself?"
The heavily augmented figure was silent for three full seconds.
Then he did something no one in the room had anticipated.
He said nothing aloud. Instead, through an encrypted data-link, he transmitted a private message directly to Ferrus's personal interface.
Ferrus's eyes instantly flared with blinding blue light.
Every person on the bridge felt the sudden surge of psychic pressure—the residual force of fury being forcibly suppressed and contained.
For the first time, an expression appeared on Ferrus Manus's face.
A cold, contemptuous smirk.
"Heh."
He let out a single, mirthless laugh.
"Mars. The Mechanicus. The Fabricator-General."
Ferrus drew a slow breath, then turned his gaze back to the assembled faction leaders and delivered his verdict:
"In recognition of your contributions during the campaign against the Warp incursion, and the objective fact that over the past eighty years you have... broadly maintained baseline planetary order."
"Your factions will not be dissolved."
Achil Hysman, Greave Atens, and Garrison Conmo all exhaled.
Ferrus's next words froze them where they stood.
"However—allowing conditions to deteriorate to the point where a Warp corruption outbreak became possible constitutes a grave dereliction of duty."
"Penalties, as follows: House Atens, the Hysman Merchant Guild, the Conmo Psyker Dynasty, and the Aurelian branch of the Order of the Omnissian Mind—each will forfeit sixty percent of total assets, to be remitted to the Departmento Munitorum."
"The Munitorum Commissariat will coordinate the transfer with each of you directly."
"Any objections?"
Achil Hysman's lips were trembling.
Sixty percent.
That was virtually the entire accumulated wealth of eighty years—the marrow of everything they had built.
What remained would barely keep the lights on. The so-called four great powers of Aurelian IV would be great in name only.
But did he dare object?
He glanced at the two Iron Hands warriors standing nearby. At the muzzles of their bolt guns.
"No... no objection." Achil bowed his head.
Greave followed. "House Atens accepts the judgment."
Garrison Conmo murmured: "The Conmo Dynasty... accepts."
Occus Kane's mechanical voice was steady: "The Order of the Omnissian Mind accepts."
"Good."
Ferrus turned back to the master console.
"Then until the Munitorum Commissariat arrives, continue to fulfil your responsibilities. Assist the Legion in clearing residual contamination from the industrial zones and maintaining basic order in the hive cities."
"Dismissed."
–
After the four factions were escorted from the bridge, Karon moved to stand beside Ferrus.
"Father—the Mechanicus matter..."
"They've already reported events here to both the Terran Council and to Father. They made their own form of reparation to the Imperium through other channels."
"Father agreed to it. I cannot override that decision."
Ferrus said it flatly, his grey eyes reflecting the Martian cog-and-skull sigil on the hololithic display.
"And the message Occus Kane just transmitted also mentioned—if we purge the four factions entirely, we would also be purging the Mechanicus's eighty-year-old network of proxies on Aurelian IV."
"In which case, the Iron Hands Legion's logistics priority in the Segmentum Obscurus may be subject to temporary downward adjustment due to... administrative reallocation."
Karon's gauntleted fist tightened.
"They dare?!"
"Of course they dare."
Ferrus's smile was without warmth.
"Mars has always sought to expand its influence within the Legions. We're heavily mechanised—we depend on their technical support. That's our vulnerability and they know it."
"Then the sixty percent seizure..."
"Is the Mechanicus's concession to us."
Ferrus said it simply.
"I ran the numbers and agreed. Leaving them forty percent is a message to Mars—this is a warning, nothing more. They've been picking too much fruit from this orchard. Don't push it further."
"If they truly back me into a corner, I'll go directly to Father and petition to have every Mechanicus branch in the Segmentum Obscurus and the Fringe sectors designated as pending review for administrative negligence. At that point, what they lose will be far more than money and resources."
He paused, then added:
"And that sixty percent in seized assets—I'll have the Munitorum convert all of it into material. Tanks, Dreadnoughts, ammunition, medical supplies."
"Fed directly into the Legion. Bypassing Mars's distribution system entirely."
Karon understood.
This had been a political gambit from the start.
On the surface, the Primarch had retreated a step. In reality, he had used the seized assets to deepen the Legion's independence—and sent Mars a warning:
Don't push your luck.
"What about the unknown armed force?"
Karon asked. "Seventh Tactical Squad has already deployed."
Ferrus looked toward the hololithic map—a single green icon moving steadily across the wasteland. One Rhino carrier, ten warriors, full auspex suite.
"Let them look."
Ferrus murmured, something thoughtful in his expression.
"I have a feeling about that group. They're not simple. They may prove... useful."
–
The Redblaze Wasteland. Dusk.
The Rhino transport rolled at a steady eighty kilometres per hour, six pairs of wide tracks pressing deep furrows into the sand.
The hull bore the Iron Hands' standard livery—dark grey, the Legion's clenched fist emblem acid-etched into the flank.
Inside, Seventh Squad Leader Sergis was reviewing auspex data.
His voice came through his armour's built-in vox, as calm as a weather report:
"Surface scan confirms significant artificial structures in the area."
"Wall height... nine metres?"
"Thickness of five metres? Is this reading correct?"
The warrior in the co-pilot's seat recalibrated the auspex.
"Confirmed, Squad Leader."
"Outer layer is stone construction. Interior has an alloy reinforcement layer."
"Furthermore, the wall cross-section shows a double-layer design with a cavity in the middle—likely filled with some form of impact-buffering material."
Sergis raised an eyebrow.
On a fringe world, any force capable of raising a nine-metre double-layer curtain wall should have a file somewhere in the Imperial archives.
But the data repository for Aurelian IV had the Redblaze Wasteland flagged as irradiated wasteland—no significant settlements.