Chapter Five

"Aye together. I cannot do this alone; I need my sword-brothers with me. Swear with me, my friends. Swear that everything we do from this day forth will be in service of this vision of a united empire of man,"

-Sigmar, High King of the Empire

….Atop the floating mountains of Aiur, she sat on the palace created for her by the Celestials. For a being like her, time was never an issue. Yet since the first time she first came into being, she had been pressed for time as the Khydarin crystals placed all over different worlds brought to heel by her subjects were showing her everything she needed to know.

For an immortal, it seemed quite ironic that having little time was her issue. However currently, it is and it seems all she can do for now is wait it out and trust in her created to fulfill her will as best as they can.

It had been two centuries since the first invasion of Valinor, the now named planet of the High Elves, two centuries ever since the Protoss rose to the stars to reclaim their birthright and more importantly, to share the light of their goddess in the galaxy. Great golden fleets now roamed the stars searching for new worlds to conquer, splinters of the Golden Armada, the thousands ship fleet of the Protoss bring planet after planet under her name. Of course following her statutes, peaceful planets with alien inhabitants were left well-enough alone by her Created, only offered a place in the slowly rising glory of those under her. Majority of course of these planets were uplifted by their own choice, taking the chance to advance under her watch, not that there were much of them in the first place. She could count in her two hands however, the civilizations that refused the new way of life spreading in their small corner of the galaxy. These worlds were mostly peaceful ones, wanting to preserve their way of life, and despite their refusal, they still were included in her sphere of influence and was counted to be worlds to be protected.

Not that everything was going her way however, while seven to ten species were found peaceful and some even humanoid in form, that's three times the numbers of hostile ones that they found. Worlds governed by creatures of unknown origins or denizens mutated by the Warp thank to the Birth of the Eye of Terror plagued a lot of worlds. The Protoss for their entire technological prowess were significantly slowed down on their crusade to bring her light by these powers. Casualties began pouring in and for the first time in Protoss history ever since her arrival. Her Created got the wakeup call that they were not invincible despite their new upgrades in society. It's a good thing since Protoss were intelligent and instead of letting their initial failures down, the Warrior Caste adjusted their combat doctrine on every battle they fought slowly molding the warriors and soon-to-be warriors into a deadly force in the galaxy.

The other species also helped. Despite not as fanatical in their devotion to her, the Alfs or now termed Highborne joined the Protoss in their crusade in a galaxy wide scale; same with the Dwarves who retained a submissive attitude to the ones that prevented their annihilation. They were the two of the most prominent of those uplifted which took to the stars with fervor. Leaving their planets of Hronjenheim and Valinor, the two species aided as best as they could. It helped since next they also worship the goddess of creation as a deity.

As she expected, both species integrated easily into the Protoss Artisan Caste. The Dwarves to the Protoss that focuses more on craft and the High Elves to those of literature, philosophy, songs and poetry. While the Artisan Caste remains proud of their fields, the additional new ideas brought by the two races were a good source of interest, and addition to many Protoss on it. Protoss Artisans now create better armor with new designs than their usual wares and there was a certain set of elegance to everything they create now.

The two races' help did not come only from the industrial sector. Despite their still recovering population, pockets of their people brave enough joined the Templar Caste's efforts on bringing more worlds to the fold. The Highborne group led especially by the leader of their people, Caledor showed an affinity that almost matched the Protoss' grace when it comes to way of fighting. The two races were almost the same in combat doctrine that it was not a surprise that the Highborne earned the Templar Caste's respect unlike the Dwarves. Led by their prince Grungni, the Dwarven Sappers earned their merit in battle. They're not fast and agile as the Protoss, they're not clever or elegant like the Highborne. They were stocky, built more for open combat and parades making them the exact opposite of the Templar Caste's way of battle.

The battle of Rowa Vindicta changed it all.

It was supposed to be an easy battle. The Rat-Men apparently wasn't only found on the world of Valinor. The pesky vermins with their foul sorcery had spread far and wide in this part of the galaxy. Many times the Protoss had to deal with their ilk in new worlds. The planet Rowan was one of them.

Rat-Men plagued the planets surface like vermin making it easy for the Second Splinter of the Golden Armada to simply glass the entirety of the planet's surface and purge the Rat-Men. The fortress of Rowa Vindicta however changed everything. At first glance, the fortress perched at the side of a mountain looked impregnable and hard to crack. At least for non-space faring species it was. This fortress was the last refuge for the Rat-Men on the planet and the elements of the Second Splinter fleet moved in to take it out.

The Protoss and their allies however found out that cracking the ancient fortress was a lot harder than they thought at first. Powerful shields generated from the Warp summoned by millions of blood sacrifice by the Rat-Sorcerers were able to stave off the powerful anti-orbital campaign that the fleet threw from orbit. And when the Templar Caste started to begin throwing troops on its walls, it became a massacre. Mad-crazed Rat-Men tainted by the Warp caught the onslaught off guard as the ones easy prey became the Hunters. With no sense of self-preservation, the vermin came like a tidal wave to the members of the Templar Caste on the ground. Despite having superior technology, not even the Protoss aided by the Highborne were able to hold their ground as many literally got swarmed by the Rat-Men who remained uncaring of their losses as their foes fought back. With the shield made by sorcery still covering them, the fleet was unable to help the ground forces as the battle slowly turned out to a rout.

Ironically it was the Dwarves of Hronjeheim that made victory a possibility. Armed with their dreaded war-masks and led by their beloved prince Grungi, the Dwarven Sappers made their stand at the entrance of the dreaded valley. Numbering sixty in all, the Sappers held their ground like the very stones of their planet as they fought with large "boomsticks" and two-handed axes against the Rat-Men horde face to face unlike the cleverer Protoss and Highborne that relied on agility and their energy shields as their main weapons. Used to the type of warfare thanks to their past with the Vampires, the Dwarves held as rocks preventing the retreat to a route. Elements of the other species like the smaller Ungoys (See Halo) and the heavily scaled Lizardmen that also joined the Conclave that volunteered to be attached to the Artisan Caste that began colonizing efforts on the planet also entered the fray, the untested species proving their merits for the first time.

Maddened as they were, Rat-Men still retain their physiological aspects which made it easy for the more hardened Dwarven veterans to hold their ground. Armored with scales of black palladium etched in green the Sappers held at the valley's end forcing the Rat-Men to choke point where the rest of the ground forces started to rain any artillery that they can manage on the gathered rats.

The battle lasted for three hours straight. Dwarves grappling with the Rat-Men in a never ending struggle. It seemed to be a stalemate. Dwarves were too stubborn to give ground and Rat-Men were too many for the Dwarves to finish off all on their own without the fleet's help. It was the third hour that brought victory to grasp. Dwarven Sappers specifically chosen not to join finally achieved their mission. Climbing up the tops of both mountain sides of the valley, specific locations were bombed causing a landslide straight down to the valley floor burying the Rat-Men and fifty of the Sappers who chose to held their ground and not retreat.

The battle of the fortress of Rowa Vindicta was the bloodiest recorded in Protoss history ever since the Protoss rose to the stars. The fifty Dwarves were given the highest honors of their people and named Paragons as their remains were sent home. A Celestial from Aiur even came and blessed their remains giving the Dwarves of Hronjeheim for the first time a physical evidence of the goddess everyone worshiped. Ever since then the Dwarves of Hronjenheim had been accepted fully to the fold and their way of fighting was no longer scoffed at.

All in all everything turned out for the best despite the circumstances. The battle prevented every race on the Conclave from being too arrogant and dependent on their technological superiority. It also made the rest of the member races of the Conclave to be wary of the predations and the dangers of the Warp.

That very reason brings her now to the point of her worries.

The Warp or the Great Ocean as the beings before that created her called the Immaterium was not safe in the slightest. Thousands of years brought decadence and decay as the psychic manifestation of the material world echoed on it. The fall of the Eldar Empire bringing a dark age to the entirety of the galaxy as a whole was only the last straw as the Great Ocean turned to a conduit of madness and decay. Now all that negative energy has turned to a mass critical point creating beings of mass power each representing the worst that the material world has to offer. She knows deep inside that even she must be careful on dealing with such beings. The fountain of knowledge instilled on her made her more than aware that even in her current state constantly fueled by the faith of her subjects that belonged to the enclave, she's still not powerful enough to challenge the four Chaos gods of the Immaterium and win. She had to be careful to mask the location of the first Khydarin crystal buried on the core of Aiur that housed her entire being. If it was ever destroyed, she would cease to exist with her being forever dissipated and scateered on the vastness of the materium.

As of right now, she knew she had to rely on her Created and the Conclave of races that they united to spread her light. While not as strong as the Chaos gods, her very being was an anathema to them. The Khydarin crystals brought everywhere by the Protoss served as a talisman against the predations of the warp. Every planet where the large ones were planted served as buffer regions masking the area in a light of silence that made it invisible in the eyes of psykers and any warp related monstrosity. In fact if a daemon dared enter these blank areas of space and die while being on its sphere, its being would not be able to reenter on the Warp. So while she herself cannot face the enemies of Order face to face, the large fleets of the Golden Armada were free to traverse the stars and face the servants of Chaos without handicaps.

And that brought her to premonition right now that also attracted the attention of the Celestials that surround her. Being beings of energy, they do not need words to communicate. She hid nothing from them and they also hid nothing from her. The Celestials adored her more than the fanatic Protoss can ever hope to be. Sufficed it to say, the rest of the beings of light were connected to her in life and death. If she ever dies, their entire beings die with her. The very thought was an anathema for them. That's why they guard her physical avatar endlessly despite the fact that it can be remade again.

As for her premonition, it lies more on her worries for her Created. With the knowledge left to her by the Eldar that gave her being, she's more than aware of the horrors of other species that called these Materium their home. Undead robots buried in an uncounted number of worlds hell-bent on apocalypse in a galactic scale, corrupted Eldar who would stop at nothing to sate their thirst of the practices that brought down the Empire, brutish orks which was a menace to everyone and their gods, and of course the never ending monsters of Chaos. Her previous life as a human being, despite not being so interested by this reality, which was a game in her former reality, also gave her memories of humans, cruel, dark, bigoted, an Imperium that ruled the stars, massive space parasites that devoured planets, humans corrupted by chaos, technologically advanced blue aliens indoctrinating people and of course, the ever treacherous Eldar.

All these were threats to her Created and for the life of her she had no idea how to preserve this little place of light in the galaxy. At least if you call three thousand and one hundred planets currently controlled by the Conclave small.

Technologically wise, the Conclave were more than ready to face the galaxy. Its members currently were: the Celestials, her eternal guardians; Protoss, her Created and currently the most numerous and technologically wisest; Higborne, the High Elves of Valinor, fairest and wisest; Dwarves, stunted people of Hronjenheim, great builders and artisans; Unggoy, a small bipedaled race from the planet of Bulaho, great laborers, and of course the lizardmen, a peaceful group of reptiles from planet Corvat uplifted by the Protoss. Currently these were the members of the Conclave with the Celestials and the Protoss taking the first seats in controlling it.

While the Conclave would be more than ready for war in a galactic scale, numbers wise they would be unable to sustain a drawn out war. In simpler terms, they would be unable to replenish their numbers so fast compared to casualties at a later date. None of the races other than the Unggoy and lizardmen which were not military savy compared to the rest would be able to keep up the numbers game. In technology they would win, but they would simply be overcome by sheer force of numbers in a constant war of attrition. They needed a race to supplement their numbers and fast too. So far only one race comes to mind.

A single thought alone brought three bright flashes appearing in front of her physical avatar sitting on the Throne of Light. She needed no words to talk to them, thoughts and visions passed between her and the three who for a few seconds remained still as statues before bowing and disappearing altogether in another flash leaving her with the other Celestials. She smiled as she let her thoughts extend once more to the galaxy. For once...the works of the other Anathema may be of some use to her after beings stolen by the Chaos gods.

…

"Move in formation men! Come on! No lolylagging!" the familiar whip crack sound followed by a man's pained grunt made every many of the small company of soldiers wince as they tried their best to avoid the eyes of the political officer currently brandishing his whip at any soldier whom seemed slow in his eyes.

Into this small company of humans, a pair of eyes watched angrily the officer as he marched with his other brothers-in-arms. Unlike the other humans however, he was big…too big in fact. Almost nine feet in height and twice as bulky, he stood out like a sore thumb among the gathered men. Unlike them who were wearing a metal plate in the chest with a small metal cap with leather armor, he only wore a leather armor barely fitting him. It contrasted actually very badly with his dirty blonde locks and fair visage that would had fooled anyone that it belonged to a prince's face more than a common soldier.

"Hey Artorius," a familiar voice called out to him making the big giant look down at the six foot soldier at his side and also his best friend ever since he was drafted in the armor. "Eyes front brother, making that man pay for his cruelty isn't worth it. Remember, they are all watching," whispered Sigmar to him making Artorius grit his teeth as his hand left the massive claymore at his side (since swords looked more like toothpicks for him to be used as a weapon) and focused on hefting the last of the massive boulders with a heave as he shouldered it at his side.

"One day, they're gonna pay, all of them!" he growled, his tone coming out like a small thunder as he glared at the same officer beating the living daylights out of a messenger boy, one of the runners back and fro of the assembled army.

"I know my friend, I know," agreed Sigmar at his side. "But not today,"

"Not today," he reluctantly added as he marched alongside his friend to the ragged line of conscripts leaning wearily on second-hand spears as they make their trek towards the open gathering ground where other more conscripts from all over the land slowly trickle in.

Bretonia as usual was gearing up its legions to face down the might of the brutal Orks that had ravaged their land ever since the beginning of time. At least that's how Artorius' foster-father taught him. The geography of the land in this world was one big supercontinent with two very small pockets of land on the East and the North. At its center ruled Bretonia, the human kingdom which claimed the majority of the supercontinent and probably the last bastion of law and order in this world. Problems all over the land lay as a threat to it. Powerful Greenskins with their hordes, Norscan invaders from the Northern Continent with their barbaric ways, Skaven, rat-men that dwells on the bowels of the deep places of the earth, rogue sorcerers worshipping Chaos, bringing forth mighty legions from thin air and the ever elusive Elven Empire of the Eastern Continent with their capricious ways on the shades of their mighty forests. All these were threats to the Kingdom ever guarded by numerous legions of men ready to answer duties back and call.

The Orks however was the Kingdom's greatest concern. Nobody really knew where they came from, only that they had been here even before the Kingdom. Maddened like beasts they always come down from the Western Steppes where the Kingdom's armies cannot get to due to the cold weather there. From their assault points, they made it a habit of daily invading the kingdom's western baronies laying waste to every man, woman and child. This forces the kingdom of Bretonia to invest heavily on Legions to battle the ever constant threat of their raids which may range from several hundreds to thousands.

A small whip crack made Artorius grit his teeth as he saw another political officer beating the poor conscripts into marching harder to the front lines facing the slowly trickling green-skin horde at the distance. The Kingdom of Bretonia had always been ruled by fair leaders and kings. The constant threat to the kingdom tend to leave no room for power struggling. However the last king, Orelan the Fifth died early leaving the kingdom to his brother regent, Garlan the First since his son Cailan was too young. Unlike previous kings which were warriors, Garlan was an opportunist and slowly over the years removed political support for young Cailan that when it came for the young king to be crowned, he was delegated to military service in postponement by his uncle for experience. Right now, the whereabouts of the crown prince of Bretonia remained a mystery.

With the kingdom becoming a shadow of its former self as new leaders were installed which were opportunities and backstabbers like the self-proclaimed king, the people suffered under the new regime. However the threats remained surrounding the kingdom and once more despite being a shadow of its own self, heroes arise to combat the threat against it.

"Hey, is that the big giant?...,"

"Yeah, I heard it was the freak…,"

"What do you think have made him grow that big?...,"

"He is a human is he?...,"

"Ohhh what did his father fed him to make him grow that big?...,"

Artorius promptly ignored the whispers surrounding him as he fell in line on the center of the line with the rest of the conscripts, recruited from several farms which served as cannon fodder as the rest of the Kingdom's regular forces formed up on the right and left flanks. Fifty thousand men all in all gathered to face the Ork horde coming also slowly emerging from the forest.

Whereas the rest of the men in the large fighting force ranged from eighteen years of age and above, Artorius however was different. He was only twelve despite his size and many back home had called him a freak of nature. His deceased foster-father didn't hide the fact that he found him near the rice paddies outside his home trying to crawl out of a metal coffin. Artorius had no idea where he came from or even what he was. All he knows however was that he had to survive to go back home. His little sister, Eltariel needed him to come home. He was the only family she had left with his foster-father succumbing to the pox plague that occasionally ravaged the outlying towns of the area where he's living in.

"Hold fast men, here they come!" the call went out from one of the generals making Artorius brace shoulder to shoulder with his friend, Sigmar who was changing from hand to hand a mediocre looking blacksmith hammer that he preferred as a weapon. Sigmar was eighteen years old compared to him. However with Artorius being older in stature and mind, the two became fast friends in their village before they were recruited.

The roars and war cries of the Orks were indeed deafening as they charged in one massive rush like a tide of green slowly approaching the ragged human lines waiting for them. Everyone around him trembled like a leaf in the wind and he could smell more than one terrified human accidentally piss himself in fear as they failed to hide their fear of the Orks. They would be right in a way. Orks were big muscled creatures driven by rage and a bloodlust that humans don't understand. With conscripts like these, he calculated that it would take at least five spearmen to put down an Ork at full charge. Already his mind gave him the overview that this would not be an easy battle. In fact if he was honest enough with himself, he might even say that victory cannot be assured in this fight.

Still what can all of them do but fight?

At the forefront of the lines riding in a palomino massive warhorse was Count Cullen of Haldaran with the knights of his household, the most respected count on the Western side of Bretonia and one of the few people left that belonged to the Old kingdom as men call it before the rise of King Garlan the First.

"Don't be afraid men!" the old count called out to the rest of the army, his visage indeed heroic like the ancestors of old that Bretonia treasure in their hearts. "We will send these barbaric monsters back to the holes they crawled out of! Archers form up!"

The entirety of the front line immediately marched forward, each of the men holding massive longbows facing the approaching horde coming closer and closer. Despite their stoic expressions, Artorius could smell their sweat and trepidation as the green tide closes the distance even as they knocked their arrows.

"Archers! Fire!" the call went up and the front line wasted no more time sending an entire volley of death.

Hundreds of Orks immediately went down brought low by the powerful longbows. Thousands however remain and they simply trampled their own dead and wounded even as the archers sent volley after volley, the momentum of the charge barely lessening as they howled with glee trying to get in grips with the human army.

"This is it men! This is our finest hour! Our time of glory! Do not be afraid for all of us will die for a higher cause! Make our ancestors proud! Charge! Charge for the Lady and for Bretonia!" Count Cullen roared hefting the massive broadsword up in the air, aged hands still able to carry it as he rallied the army to a panicking group to a force worthy of the call of its name.

"CHARGE!" the call went out from throat to throat as the entirety of the battalion immediately ran forward brandishing peasant weapons, swords and spears with reckless abandon.

Artorius however let himself be simply swept with the tide, the Count's hearty speech barely making any impact on his emotion as his keen mind calculated the possible aftermaths of the battle. Sure the human army currently outnumbers the Orks but majority of his countrymen were simply recruits, farmhands, blacksmiths, potters and anyone pulled by the military to conscript that were able to hold the sword. Sure they may be hot-blooded and courageous right now, but once the killing stars, that courage will dissolve like a candle by the winters wind.

Gritting his teeth, he hefted his massive claymore off its scabbard, he jogged (since normal humans running seemed to slow for him) to keep in pace with his old friend, Sigmar who was trying to keep up with everyone despite his Warhammer. Already the distances between the two forces were so close that Artorius could smell the Orks, a combination of drool and sweat mixed together and left to rot for an entire week.

"CRUNCH!" the meeting of the two charging lines sounded like cracking stones. Bodies on both sides immediately fell. Powerful warhorse carried knights running down poorly armored Orks with their massive lances. Heavy duty infantry on both flanks either thrown off their feet or pushed back as the crude weapons of the Orks smashed on heavy shields and the sounds of dying as weapons met flesh.

In the matter of minutes all sorts of cohesion finally left the battlefield as it became every man for himself stabbing everything that even looked remotely green in their eyes as the battle for the nation became a battle for survival into each man. For Artorius, it was painfully obvious that whatever advantage the human army had before, have finally went up in smoke as the war degenerated into a bloody melee. A melee that the Orks were winning in a landslide as poorly trained conscripts got hacked or smashed to death by the gleeful Greenskins.

Artorius didn't waste any more time. Grabbing his claymore in a two-handed grip, he swung at the nearest Ork he could reach who was jumping over a fallen soldier. The Ork was dead before it even reached the ground, its head spinning off at the opposite direction.

"For the Lady!" roared the abnormal human, the traditional war cry of Bretonia for their deity fueling his emotions against the enemy horde. Throwing himself to a bloodlust that he never imagined he would ever had in his first battle, he pierced through the midst of the green tide. The massive claymore cleaved, stabbed, sliced and diced at every green flesh it could reach. The tide of Orks obviously seeing a better prey compared to the human army that was on the verge of retreat immediately turned against him. Artorius held his ground like an impenetrable rock over a tsunami of the sea, the massive claymore singing in delight at every death it dealt against the mass of Orks.

Everything seemed a blur for him as instinct took over common sense. He didn't recognize or take into thought any more of his actions. An Ork wielding a weird stuff got decapitated, another got its face sheared off, and another got bisected into two. Every single death was instinct, an instinct, to kill, an instinct to lead.

At his side protecting his flanks as the bodies continued to pour in were his friend, Sigmar and Count Cullen with his knights. The large leather armored farmhand was wielding the massive Warhammer in a professional way that only those who had trained from masters tend to do. Every blow of Sigmar was a gong of death, breaking bones and crushing rib cages with untold precision. Count Cullen on the other hand, had rallied his knights who despite unhorsed, had still manage to retain cohesion, wielding their massive lances usually only used on horse-back like a spear, thrusting and blocking as they plunged into the traitor's ranks and proving their rank and worth, crushing those wounded Orks under their metal boots.

"For the Lady! For Bretonia! For humanity!" roared Artorius still filled with crimson haze. The human army taking heart at their unannounced hero wielding the massive Claymore with skill and hacking Orks left and right as if they were nothing immediately rallied as they lunged at the now broken formation of the Orkish horde bashing skulls with hammers, skewering guts with spears or slashing with whatever sword skill they have.

As the battle raged on now in even ground, none in the army noticed the three beings hovering at the morning light, their glowing wings of energy barely seen, hidden by the morning sun.

"Is he the one that we're looking for Gabriel?" asked one of the beings, unseen eyes staring at the giant man tearing through the Orks with ease.

"I believe he is brother, Michael," the one with the black wings answered, at his side holding a massive scythe also of black color.

"What shall we do now?" asked one of the beings holding a harp. "We can't just pull him out of all of these,"

"Don't worry brother Raphael, I had an idea," the one called Michael smirked in his faceless appearance as he stared at their target down below. The goddess of creation always had a plan,"

...

Author's Note:

I am sorry for the late update. Busy with life. If you had any questions just post it on the review and Ill answer it for the next chapter. I had to ask though, will you guys be okay if I add the Sangheili to the Conclave? Let's just say I like them. Also the Unggoy, sorry but they're just too cute not to include. At least they're useless. In fact I had no idea how they will help in anyway.