The Emperor's inner palace rang with the sound of metal crashing on metal. Outside the vast doors that prevented entrance to the forge, there stood two mighty giants of the Morlocks, bodyguards of the Primarch himself.
They swiftly came to attention as the First Captain's footsteps approached, and their halberds came into their arms.
"How long has our father been in the forge?" The First Captain looked passively at the doors, but his question was directed to Brother-Sergeant Lennox, who stood to the left side of the great forge.
"Three days, my lord," the Terminator respectfully replied.
Gabriel Santar nodded to himself and opened the doors; the heat of the forge hit him straight away. Temperatures that would cause a human to dehydrate in moments merely caused a sheen of sweat on the captain's brow. He heard the ringing of hammer and anvil, and knew that his father was creating another perfect weapon or piece of armour to aid the Emperor in his endeavours. Gabriel, however, had his concerns about just what was being placed into his father's masterpieces. He saw darkness in them, particularly during his dreams. The voice - but it was just that, a voice in his dreams, no more, nothing compared to his father.
He moved to the forge area and fluently went to one knee; then he waited. He would wait for as long as it would take for his father to attend him. One did not disturbthe Gorgon unless there was a reason; and the only sufficient reason would be a summons from the Emperor.
After two hours, the Primarch of the Iron Hands emerged, his silver hands flowing (due to their mercury makeup) almost with a life of their own, almost as if something else lived in the hands of his father, beyond his own life-blood.
"Speak, my favoured son," the deep voice of Ferrus Manus echoed around the Imperial Forge.
"The lord of the Word Bearers wishes to speak with you, my lord," Gabriel explained. "I would not allow his First Captain to come himself and disturb you."
Ferrus chuckled, although it sounded more like the rumbling of the depths of one of the many volcanoes that covered their unstable homeworld; but then again, the fire of Medusa lived not only in them, but also in the Primarch that crashed into their world as an infant.
Ferrus' voice, as he spoke, was likewise deep, sounding like it was ready to erupt at any time. "Walk with me, Gabriel," Ferrus ordered. "Let me see what my orator brother has to say to me before we resume our part of the Great Crusade."
Santor did not miss the irony that dripped from the last words his father spoke; the Crusade was a true crusade at last. Word had reached them of Vulkan joining the Emperor's new path; but, when he had also heard that World Eaters and Salamanders had turned on those of their brothers that would not have followed the new law, he had made sure that all of the Iron Hands were loyal to the Emperor and their father.
He had no wish to kill a brother Iron Hand, and was extremely relieved that the entire Legion took the new oath; but then, he was also aware that many of the Iron Hands were loyal to Ferrus first and the Emperor next. Not that anyone had told the Emperor that; the details of what he had done to the Custode that had not agreed with the change in direction and who had, apparently, tried to send word to the First Primarch (as if the Warmaster would betray his father!) had gotten around the Emperor's circle.
Ferrus had suspected it had been done so that his sons, as part of this new crusade, would know what would happen to those who dared betray him or refuse him. Santor had not brought up what had happened with the Salamanders and the World Eaters. It was probably not the time or the place. And a First Captain did not dare voice his disquiet over fratricide, or over his father's words in his dreams. If it had to be done, it had to be done, and he could only thank the ancient Medusans that it did not have to be done in his Legion.
He walked alongside his father, and two of the Morlock Terminator bodyguards fell dutifully into place.
Loken and Abaddon moved swiftly through the Vengeful Spirit, Ahriman at their side. They ignored even their own brother Astartes as they made their way to the Warmaster's strategium.
All three Astartes had heavy hearts, and it reflected in their footfalls. What they had found went against all that the two Luna Wolves wanted to believe, and even what the Thousand Sons' First Captain had once believed. All three of the transhumans had hoped that, against all the wisdom of the Crimson King, for all his skills with the powers of the Warp (or the Great Ocean, as the Thousand Sons preferred to call it), he had been wrong, merely shown an alternative future that he had mistaken for their time.
The fact that he had not been had not made any of them feel any better. The Luna Wolves had expected Ahriman to crow a little about how correct the powers of the Crimson King had been; for they could be a proud bunch, these Thousand Sons, and in the eyes of their cousins they were frequently aloof.
But not this time; not now, when it was plain that a world had been lain to ruin at the hands of not just a fellow Legion, but the Praetorian himself, one of Horus's closest brothers.
No, the Warmaster was not going to like this one little bit.
Lorgar waited until he was left alone with Ferrus, and the two brothers walked to the ramparts of the Imperial Palace. Both took some time to take in the views that this afforded them. Spanning half the world, it seemed impossible to most humans to even walk its walls in one lifetime, but to the Astartes, who were used to crossing such vast distances in the time it took the Imperial Army to even move half a day, it was nothing.
Below, the newly formed Black Templars were constructing a mighty cathedral, alongside the Word Bearers, in dedication to the Emperor and Chaos Undivided. The Cathedral had been designed by Lorgar and fortified by Rogal Dorn. It was, indeed, going to be a splendid place to worship the Emperor. Lorgar himself felt vindicated at his father's words; and the sins of the Ultramarines against his Legion were forgotten, well forgotten, just as much as Lorgar forgot any slight against his belief. Monarchia's ash was gone at last. Lorgar was whole again.
For now, he was concentrating on becoming the spokesman of the gods and the channel between them and their father. He was concentrating on spreading the new religion throughout the crusade fleet, and the Lectio Divinatius was - even now, as he stood looking at the world before him - finding its way into the fleets.
"The cleansing of the Salamanders and the World Eaters is complete," Lorgar told Ferrus. "Did you need to take such measures?"
"I had no need to," Ferrus proudly stated, "for the sons of Medusa are not afraid of change, and will follow me wherever I lead them."
"There are those, Ferrus, who would say that your Legion does not follow the way of the Emperor so much as the ways of Mars," Lorgar carefully spoke.
It had long been suspected that the Iron Hands had more of an affinity towards Mars than was ideal, and that their outlook made them more like Astartes of Mars, rather than Astartes of the Emperor.
Lorgar, however, saw the truth of the Iron Hands not as something to be suspicious about, but something to be embraced. He leant forward and surveyed the lands before him. It was hard to believe that, once upon a time, a mighty ocean and a vast mountain range that was called the roof of the world had surrounded the very land that this mighty palace was built on.
"We hold a similar belief to the Mechanicum; that is all, Aurelian." Ferrus smiled a little and Lorgar nodded in thanks as his brother concluded, "As long as I breathe, brother, we will follow the Emperor."
"Then, my brother, I have need of you."
"Speak and it shall be done; but be warned, I am not a diplomat, although I am aware that, astonishingly, Angron managed to bring Vulkan into the fold."
Lorgar chuckled a little. "Yes, that was a surprise, but then Vulkan is a warrior of fire and Angron respects that, as far as Angron respects anything, and the feeling can be mutual. But though it is good that the Great Salamander joins us," he stood straighter "what I ask of you, brother, is that you travel to Mars and convince the Fabricator General that the new direction of the Omnissiah is the one for them all to take."
"That might take some time, brother," Ferrus warned. "We both know what he is like, and that he will expect something in return."
Lorgar rested a hand on his brother's shoulder and leaned in close. "The affinity the Iron Hands have with the Mechanicum is what will ultimately sway them to the new crusade; but if it does not, then…."
His voice trailed off, and Ferrus knew exactly what that meant. He would have to take whatever measures were necessary to ensure that the Mechanicum followed the new direction of the Crusade.
"Also my brother of the Forge" Lorgars voice seemed to change in cadence, like honey over silk "if they will not bow down to the master of Medusa and the Master of Mankind then the Iron Hands will have a new world to claim as their own for only the Iron Hands can do what the Mechanicum does"
Ferrus gave a half smile and bowed his head "It will be done brother"
He spoke into his vox bead and waited. Gabriel appeared a few moments later, carrying a large case, and held it as Ferrus opened it and reached into it, withdrawing a mighty Crozius Arcanum.
It writhed with energy, and the power that had converted Vulkan to the new order now seemed to purr in the master smith's hands. The head was the symbol of Chaos Undivided; Lorgar considered how it was inevitable that, at some point, other Legions would choose their own deities. It was already obvious that the World Eaters were heading in Khorne's direction. But Lorgar was a priest of the entire pantheon - including his father.
"For you, brother, so that none can dispute the authority you wield as the voice of the Emperor."
Lorgar was genuinely touched and hugged his brother. Lorgar had only ever believed that there was one brother he could count on in terms of confidence and closeness, namely Magnus; it had hurt him greatly that the Crimson King had ignored their father's summons. He had not expected this from Ferrus Manus; but as he held the gold-handled Crozius, he could feel the power of the warp course through the grip and into him. He, who was named as the Voice of the Emperor, was also the conduit of the gods.
He ran his hand over the metal, and wanted to weep at the carvings in ancient Colchidan that Ferrus had spent days intricately carving into the metal; the Gorgon had named the crozius Faith Bringer.
"Faith Bringer," Lorgar repeated as he tightened his grip on the handle, "and she will be."