First off, I have to apologize to the five people who personally DM'd me to find out if I was going to post this chapter, two months ago. I am sorry for the wait, I don't really think about the idea of people actually waiting on me to publish content. So for those of you, my deepest apologies. But passed that, this was a difficult chapter for me to do, it was both a winding down chapter and a winding up chapter, and trying to find that balance was my greatest struggle.

But enough of my rambling, I hope you enjoy, and any feedback is greatly appreciated.


I sat under the gaze of my gene sire for hours, Serfs coming and filling the incense burners as they started to fade, the scent growing as it started to burn anew, wafting over the chamber. I could feel our ship accelerating, rumbling slightly as the vessel picked up speed. I knew further contemplation on the treachery of my brothers would lead me nowhere so I rose to my feet, heading to the one place I could always find some solace, the forges.

I pushed open the doors to the chapel and out into the open hallway, larger and made for the masses to move through, away from the most critical areas. Some wounded were still being moved, ripped limbs and hacked bodies, moaning under thick bandaging. I made a note to see the Colonel of the Fourth, thank him for the courage of him and his men. I took my gaze away from the people and onto one of the many doors leading into our foundry, the symbol of the Mechanicus on the door. It might have been our ship, but this was their place.

At least it had been, before I had converted a part of their work area to suit my own devices during our wandering through the stars. It now stood filled with projects and ideas that the Tech Priests would ask over. The doors opened, the smell of oil and smoke wafting into the hallway as I entered, the gears turning and sealing me inside. Surrounded by fire and metal I made my way to my workstation, tools exactly where I had fastened them weeks ago. I received a few nods from the Adepts who worked in other parts of the forge, we had an understanding, a mutual love of our craft. I undid my armor and put on something more suited for working in the heat, a large shirt and pants soon covered me, sleeves rolled back in preparation.

I made my way through the sounds of metal being beaten into shape and selected a number of materials, steel mostly, a fair amount of Adamantium that had been ripped from the crust of Tarth. The metal glowed in the light of the forge, promises of strength in its gleam.

I knew that I would have to wait until we returned to Erebor until I could truly start crafting the gear that I wanted. The tools I had at my disposal on the ship simply were not good enough for the creation of my personal arms. So I busied myself with experimenting with different weapons with the materials I had on hand instead.

My hammer rang for days without rest, the weapons of war I created growing better every time, but still they were not enough. I threw my full attention into this task, my mind focused solely on this goal as I heard the warning sound of the ship being sucked into the Immaterium. Our journey home was starting.

I picked up a cold chuck of Adamantium I was planning to work with and placed it in the coals, pumping the bellows to heat the metal as much as possible. It glowed almost an hour later. I removed it from the flames with tongs and placed it on my anvil, picking up my tools and starting to work. The first blow, hit at a lesser strength I used when forging with steel, only shook my arm, the glowing chuck ringing in mockery. I gripped my hammer harder and swung again, using all of my strength, the tool struck and the metal formed to my power. I smiled and swung again.

Sporadically Bran and Mortis would come and watch me work, but they seemed to understand the drive that had latched itself to me, never seeking to stop me in my tasks. I was thankful for it, the repetitive ring of metal took my mind of the faces of my dead sons, something that would haunt me in the quiet moments.

Sometimes I would heed the words of the Tech Priests and eat or drink something, but often times I would only request more metal, more materials to hone my craft. My time forging in the subpar workshop aboard Michael's ship had given me a starting point, but still I needed practice making the core of a sword ever stronger. Eventually Drake stopped by, standing with his arms crossed as I worked on a smaller blade, tinkering with the machine that made it a Power Weapon. I flipped it over end, pointing the handle at my father.

"What do you think of this for a human sized weapon? I don't have much experience making them." Drake gave it a glance before placing it on the nearby table.

"You're more than free to do what you wish with your time going home, Aragorn, but the others haven't seen you in weeks. It would be wise to speak to them, cement some of the bonds you have created over the war before they wash away." I sighed, throwing back the ingot of steel I had been thinking of crafting into an axe head before looking over to the weapons that laid on a nearby table, each one made for a Marine in my Clan.

I had wanted to start on designing a new set of armor for myself tomorrow. The ideas churned in my mind, ones that demanded to be satisfied now that I had the time.

"I'll meet with my Clan soon, when I'm ready to give them the blades." Drake held my gaze for a few seconds before nodding, leaving the den of smoke and flames. I was distracted by red robes entering my vision. One of the Priests, followed by a few others, nervously stood outside my workshop. The one in the front spoke, voice filled with traces of his machine altered throat, I could hear the creak of the metal that had replaced his flesh.

"My Lord, we wondered if you could help us on a project Octavian has set before us. Our skills are not enough to compete it quickly." I paused for a moment, looking back at the warming ingot but nodded. They had been helpful over the past weeks, I could return the favor. I let him lead me to a different part of the forges. There, dismantled and on a piece of cloth, was one of the lasguns given to our men.

"He wanted us to make notes of how effective the improvements he has made over the years have been. We have gotten a number of recordings and first hand accounts from guardsmen, but we hoped you would be able to give us a detailed account, seeing as you have witnessed both the PDF and the Guard fight side by side." I looked over the pieces, noticing the visible changes in the pattern from what Betram's men had carried and nodded all the same. This new task now started, the group of them taking notes as we compared ideas on how to further improve our men's weapons.

By the next week I had finished working with the Techs on a new pattern of Lasgun, one we would dub the Tarth pattern. A bit of a boring name choice, but we considered it a fair choice considering its origins. It furthered on the changes made by Octavian, the barrel lengthened by a few centimeters and a new firing modes added to it. More improvements to the power pack were to be added, a few different designs to be created and tested, adding more shots per pack as well as increased power per shot.

I toyed with the idea of attaching the weapon to a powered backpack, much like the Hellguns I had heard about, fixing the problem of just how far we could push the ammo count of the Tarth pattern lasguns. Sadly none of the Tech Priests knew how to make one, and creating the system from scratch like I had Dran's new arm would have to be a project placed on the backburner. Still, the idea had merits, and the Techs said they would start to work on a pattern like it.

While working with them, I would take small breaks and carve inscriptions into the finished weapons for my Clan, our Chapter words and their names etched into each piece. Each was made from the Adamantium pulled from Tarth. They were almost all finished and I could soon present them to my Clan members.

The small amount left had been crafted into a Combat Knife for myself, an entire day given to honing the edge. For anybody else it would have been a blade in its own right, for me it was a weapon of last resort.

When I was finished with my work I called Serfs into the workshop and gave each of them one of the blades, wrapped in white cloth. It took two of them to carry each, the distance we had to walk being too great for only one.

A few minutes before, I Voxed each member of the Clan and told them to report to our personal training room. At the head of my troop, we walked through the ship, down the narrower hallways and through the back paths to reach our destination quicker, the rumble of pipes as the ship moved ever present.

I opened the door for the Serfs to walk through, each of them coming to stand before the confused Marines that waited inside. The door closed behind me with a thud as the steel bolts locked back into place, my eyes trailing to the side of the room where a few broken practise blades sat, the place illuminated from lights in the ceiling.

One by one the Serfs took off the cloth and presented the blade to its owner, unveiling them for all to see. Each Marine took their blades, eyes traveling down the edge in appreciation. They were basic in their craft, in the same shape as the basic pattern almost every Space Marine Chapter, with small differences.

"I give you the Iron Pattern Power Sword." I got a few eyebrow raises at the name but they thumbed the power switches all the same, watching as blue energy cracked down the surface. Each of my sons marveling at the work. All of them except for Turgon, who I had made a dual sided axe, with Drake heads etched into the metal on the handle. He hefted the massive weapon, his eyes sparkling, and gave me a grin.

"Now this is a weapon! I can't wait to let it taste the blood of some filth." I just chuckled slightly and continued.

"This is my gift to you all for serving with me during our first war. I will always ensure that from here on we have the proper equipment to accomplish our mission." Fane turned off his blade, a frown on his face.

"It wasn't your lack of equipment that lost you brothers Aragorn. The Orks where tricky, moving in a way you didn't expect, any of us would have fallen for the same ploy." I was silent for a moment before I nodded.

"I'm aware, but if we had better equipment, then we could have done more. I spent a good amount of time working with the Tech Priests on lasguns for the guard, as they make up the bulk of our forces, for exactly this reason. We are not great in number, that is why we must have only the best weapons."

"And you will craft them all yourself?" I shook my head, a smile pulling at my lips.

"No, I know I don't have the time, but if I can help even a bit, then it would be worth sacrificing the time what extra time I have. Besides, are you really complaining?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"Never, but not every problem can be answered by getting a better weapon, Aragorn." I remained silent for a moment, eyes trailing to the faces of those in my Clan. They eyed the blades with silent contemplation. Olok placed his blade in its sheath and knelt on one knee.

"You honor us with such weapons Primarch." I smiled and walked before him, holding out a hand to raise him to his feet.

"You honor me Olok, by standing by my side even through my faults, my failures." I took a step back, locking eyes with each of them in turn.

"You are my sons, my brothers, my blood. As long as there is breath in my lungs, I will fight alongside you to the best of my ability, and part of that ability is ensuring that we go into battle with equipment befitting of the First Clan." Each Marine pounded their chest in salute, eyes filled with fire, but one was still holding his blade, unactivated. Zuriel stood, gazing upon his blade in still reservation. Out of all of those in my Clan, I knew him the least, being even quieter than Olok.

"I'm not sure we have proven ourselves worthy of these weapons Primarch." The others looked to him, just as surprised to hear him speak as I was. Turgon shook his head.

"If he wants to give them to us, then who are we to say we are not worthy of them? At what point will we be? Think of the battle's we could wage with these blades, the glory we can bring to the Chapters name." The others nodded but Zuriel still looked unconvinced, placing the blade back in its holding. Each scabbard was leather on the inside, the outside a coat of steel, golden engravings ran down their length. Invictus looked up from his blade, hand traveling down the length.

"These will serve us well in our future battles, thank you." The others echoed his words and a moment of awkward silence descended upon us until I pulled my own blade off my back, a smile rising on my lips as I placed the tip on the ground.

"Well then, you have new weapons, who wants to learn to use them?" At once blades rose in greeting, the lust for combat rising in each of us as we sprang at one another to embrace our desire.

A few days later those who lead the Clans were gathered together by Drake in a control room, holoprojector in the middle, heavy wires connecting to the bottom. The lights dimmed and the table started to hum, images appearing over the table. Zane and Thorak stood next to me as Drake started to speak.

"Our first war Iron Drakes, first of many, first of our endless watch to protect humanity. Each of you are young and it can take a lifetime to learn how to wage war. Each of you have shouldered the responsibility of leading your brothers without the normal centuries of experience that Sargents of other Chapters can have, for this I apologize to each of you, but it must be done."

We shared a look between us before we shrugged. It was expected for us to step into the role, our lack of experienced leaders was something that would fix itself in time.

"Regardless, the founding of our Chapter is hardly normal, from finding Aragorn, to the training that each of you have gone through. It's far from what the Codex allows, but each of you have learned from this experience. Our next war will go better because of it. Now, let us begin."

Over the next few hours we dug through image after image, discussing what had gone wrong, and where we had done right. Wargear was discussed, battle plans brought into place, doctrine of how to approach such battlefields again.

I still felt the ping of shame as I watched from my own helmet feed a green tide come rushing down from the mountains, the blood and chaos that had greeted us during that next hour. Involuntarily I found my fists curling at my sides, anger filling me.

We continued this over the next days, hammering home the lessons that had been just that during the years of our youth, lessons and theory. Now we understood, now we knew why we trained as we did.

With an alarm we exited the Warp a few days later, at the extent our ship's cogitators could take us without the abilities of a Navigator to guide our fleet through the Immaterium. At some point, Drake and I knew we would need such abilities, but venturing to find a House that would pledge its sons and daughters to us would draw attention, something that Drake was vehement on keeping me away from.

Son of the Emperor or not, he felt I would not be welcomed back by the Lords, their grip on the power they had maintained for so long not something they would let go so easily. Besides, unlike my brother Vulcan who had reapered thousands of years ago to combat the Beast, I was not known by the entire Imperium. My name wasn't held aloft next to the Emperor or Sanguinius.

I looked out from the window to the void, no system of planets greeted us, only a brief stop in realspace as the cogitators plotted a new path home. We where in empty space, billions of blinking stars shining out from the inky darkness, it almost felt like I could see our entire Galaxy, a reminder of just how small I was, how large the burden on my shoulders grew.

My mind could hardly grasp just how much the Imperium controlled, the Segmentums and Sub-Sectors, endless worlds and systems. The scale of it all was almost beyond my reasoning, for those without the enhancements I held from the Emperor, I couldn't fathom they truly understood how large it all was. The amount of information taken upon by scribes was truly backbreaking.

I shook myself free of these thoughts, head turning to look upon my Librarian as he approached. His armor was repaired from the minor damage it had sustained during the final battle, his staff was held loosely in his grip, the steel bottom thudding the ground as we stared out into the endless void together for a moment.

"I never thanked you for what you did." I looked down at him, his eyes staring out, lost in his thoughts.

"You have nothing to thank me for Solomon. You never asked for your gifts, the burden you bare is one that most cannot understand. Just living, you possess an iron will that many could never hope to achieve," I laid a hand on his shoulder. "You do the Chapter proud, Solomon. It's the least I can do to heal the rift between you and the rest of my sons." I blinked, taking note to remember I was planning to speak with Mortis and Bran.

"On that note, with the way Cotus trained you? Would you say that your education was suitable?" Solomon paused for a moment, pondering the question before answering.

"I still have much to learn, but his teachings are a massive boon. I wouldn't be here without his guidance. I know there are many parts of being a Librarian and many skills that are still out of my reach, but yes. I must say that he has been an excellent teacher." I drummed my fingers on the window, eyes on the darkness outside.

"When we return to Tarth, I want you to take an apprentice, a Psyker who shows promise in his abilities. Not right away, but eventually." I turned towards his stunned face with a grin. "We don't have the resources as other Chapters do, so we will do what we can do ensure we are armed as best we can, both body and mind." Solomon still didn't blinked, stunned for a moment before he frowned, eyes returning to the window.

"I'm sorry Aragorn, but I cannot agree. I don't know if I will ever reach the level needed to teach another. Cotus has hundreds of years in honing his powers, I have a few years of training. With even that, I almost lost control." I sighed, knowing he wouldn't be eager to accept the suggestion. A part of his confidence had been damaged by everything that happened. A part that would take time to repair.

"Just think about it. I won't ask something of you, if I knew you couldn't accomplish it." He gave me a nod and I turned, walking through the ship to where Bran and Mortis worked. I hoped they would be more agreeable to my plan for finding apprentices that Solomon had been.

Time flows differently when one is aboard a starship, there is no day or night, only the lights that shined down from the ceiling and the sounds that would designate time for shift change. As it was, such an alarm tolled as I entered the forge. Artificers started placing down their tools and cleaning their stations for the next group. I tried to acknowledge each of them as I walked by them, making my way to the place where my Techmarines worked. They looked up from their work as I strode up, Dran standing among them. His arm sat on the workbench, Mortis and his Mechadendrites still working away. From his station, Bran walked over to stand by me.

"With a bit of free time, we have been putting it under extra stress tests, trying to find its limit. So far it's held up to just about everything we have put it through that's within reason. I'm sure when we get back to Erebor, we should be able to make it out of Adamantium. Then it will be just about indestructible. " I looked down at my design-made-reality and smiled.

"I was slightly worried about that, I'm glad to see that it has held up." Dran came over, Cerimite thudding on the steel floor before he bowed his head.

"I never got the opportunity to thank you for making me whole again Primarch, I owe you everything." I shook my head.

"I was more than happy to help. Now if others suffer the same fate, getting them back onto the battlefield will be all the faster." Dran nodded, eyes turning back to his artificial body part. Mortis rose from where he worked and looked over.

"So, I doubt you came here just to chat, and you're not on your side of the forge. What can we do for you?" I looked at Bran for a moment before starting.

"I asked Solomon the same question, would you two be willing to take on apprentices? We both know that Marcus will leave one day. It will then be up to you both to train our next generation of Techmarines." They shared a look, contemplating my offer, and shrugged.

"We can agree to that, the two of us had already spoken about this while you were gone. We realized that we are the first generation, and that the third or perhaps the fourth will have to be trained by us."

"Solomon didn't agree so readily, but his path is different than yours. I know I wasn't there, but was it really that bad?" Bran and Mortis shared a look before Mortis sighed.

"In all honesty, no. It was in a small location and nobody was even hurt, we wouldn't have even found out about it except for a Serf that was nearby heard the screaming. To be honest I believe the reason that we became so drawn back was because we don't know what really happened inside that chamber, Cotus refuses to speak of it and Solomon is still too guilt ridden to speak in detail." I sighed and crossed my arms.

"He told me a small amount, but from what I have seen so far nothing is wrong with him, I won't expect any of you to completely remove your fears, but remember that he is one of us." The trio nodded and I, walking passed my workstation to grasp the sword I had Drake inspect, started to head deeper into the ship.

It wasn't often that I traveled down into the bulk crew compartments of the ship, many of our facilities ran along the spine on the few main decks. The living quarters for the other thousand souls were several decks down. As I descended, I started to see metal become a bit less clean, more grime and dirt filling the hallways. It didn't bother me, but once again paid as a reminder of just how large the vessel we traveled on was, it was almost impossible to keep every path clean.

My search for the Fourth Regiment continued for the better part of an hour until I finally swallowed my pride and asked one of the Serfs where they were staying on the ship. I knew they were here, I just didn't know where. They easily gave me directions and within minutes I was opening a set of doors that lead into the sleeping quarters of our men.

Inside rows upon rows of bunks sat, some filled, some pushed to the side as guardsmen occupied themselves with exercise or card games. Walking through, most of them stopped what they where doing and watched, many bowing as I looked upon all the unclaimed bunks. I felt sadness grow in my hearts once again at the sight of it, and rethought my plan of action before shaking off such hesitation and stroll forward once again.

I came upon the hallway where the officers stayed. Brandon, leader of the Fourth from what I could remembered, opened the door to his room after I knocked. His eyes, which had once been so tired, now showed a bit of life in them again. They rose until they met mine, the man saluting before opening the door fully.

"My Lord, please come in, how may I serve." I stepped over the threshold and let my gaze trail across the room, some pictures sat on a desk in the corner of the room, a dresser for clothing and a large bed. It wasn't lavish, but was befitting something of the man's rank. He stood a few steps back, his own eyes trailing to where a few pieces of clothing laid on the floor.

I took the sword in my hand and presented it to him, a sixty centimeter leaf shaped blade. Its sheath mirrored the ones I had given my sons with their own swords. He took it with a reverence and confusion.

"I wanted to personally thank you for your sacrifice in the defence. Each of you stood your ground when others would have run. You have done the Chapter a service, for that you have my gratitude. I know a sword cannot bring back the men you lost, but it is my own way of showing my gratitude." He took out the blade and activated the power switch, the room filled with the hum of energy.

He looked up at me with eyes far older than he should have at his age.

"I thank you, my Lord. It will mean alot to the men knowing you came here personally. They were fairly shaken up after that battle, but the Fourth will recover and learn from these experiences." I smiled at the mindset and continued with my plans.

"There is a proposition for you, if you're willing." He finished examining the blade, placed it down and turned, nodding.

"I want your Regiment to attach itself to my command. Where the Clan goes, you will come with us. In return, I promise that your entire Regiment will be clad in the best wargear we can offer." I could see it, the reservation in his eyes as he contemplated my proposal. He turned away, walking towards the desk and picking up the glass framed picture of his family. His heart was pounding in his chest before it calmed, his eyes were set when he turned around and gave me an affirmative nod.

"It would be our honor, my Lord. We are yours to command." I sighed in resignation. Knowing what thoughts ran through his mind at that moment, I cursed the galaxy we lived in and the endless death that plagued us each day.

"I am glad to hear it, Colonel. I may well need your men's strength in the future and it will be an honor to fight alongside them again." I held out my hand and he shook it, his hand dwarfed inside the grasp of my own. "We will speak more when we are back home, but until then I will let you return to your work." He saluted as I shut the door behind me. With one of many tasks done I made my way back into the upper parts of the ship, the rumbling of the engines fading back to its low tempo.

I opened the door to my room for the first time in what seemed weeks. Sitting back into the sheets and closing my eyes, willing myself into slumber.

Annoying like so many nights before it, I was thrown into another dream. The same torrential rain and crashing thunder pounding the mountain as two titans fought above me. The dream played out like it had so many times before, a single figure dashing between the giants and stealing away the gemstones encased in the necklace. But this time the dream continued, the same lighting illuminating the area, forest green eyes staring accusingly at me from under a drawn up hood, as if I was the trespasser in another's realm. Another flash of lightning and all others were gone, only me and the rain remaining.

I sat up in bed, a frown etched into my face as the dream slipped away into memory. For so long it had been the same recurring events again and again. This new change was both unexpected and unwelcome. Knowing loitering on it would help nothing, I pulled myself out of bed and dressed. I opened my door, only to be greeted by the black armor of our Chapter Chaplain, his skulled helmet staring impassively into my eyes.

"Aragorn, do you have a moment?"

I nodded, realizing with a sense of guilt that I hadn't spoken to Anellius in some time. The pair of us walked through the ship at a swift pace, soon entering the main chapel on the ship. Incense burners hung from the walls, so potent that my lips curled up in disgust. Through the pews we strolled, our aim the small door in the back.

Through the door was a smaller room than I had been expecting; a bed for someone his size was placed in the far corner, a rack for his armor next to it. The much larger portion of the room was taken up by bookshelves. I recognized several of the volumes tucked away. He walked in further and sat, motioning to the chair opposite his own.

"I wanted to let you know I have been speaking to both your and Zane's Clan about this and they told me that when you fought the Orks at the wall for the last time you were filled with rage and hate. More so than any other there. How are you moving passed the deaths of your sons?" I stared at him for a moment as he remove his helmet, eyes as gray as my own staring back at me.

"Are... you giving me counselling?" He smiled a bit and shrugged.

"I'm here to ensure the spiritual well being of the Chapter Aragorn. Call it what you would, we aren't unfeeling warmachine. It's my duty to recite the Chapters beliefs and customs, see over the indoctrination of Serfs and Aspirants alike into our Cult. We might not hold to the Emperor as our God, but we still honor him in our own way. It's my duty to ensure that you don't let yourself become consumed by what happened. I don't believe you would, but Drake has asked that I speak to you all the same." I sighed, pride rearing its head as I felt no small amount of irritation at having this conversation at all, but for the sake of our friendship, I started speaking.

"Of course I feel guilty over what happened, it was my fault, but lamenting about it forever will do me no good. They paid with their lives for my failure. It's not something I will waste." Anillius nodded, rising for a moment before heading over to a small table. Returning with two glasses filled with water, I took one. We both drank, using that moment to collect our thoughts.

"I'll fine Anellius, I'm not letting myself become consumed by this. I appreciate the concern, but it's not needed." His lip nudged upwards in a ghost of a smile before he nodded.

"I know, but I was asked to speak with you all the same. I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted you." I waved off his words.

"You didn't interrupt anything, is was a pleasure speaking to you after so long." He raised his glass in goodbye as I turned and left the room, shutting the door behind myself softly as I walked into the chapel. Several Serfs were gathered, multiple noticing my presence and bowing in respect. I found my eyes trailing up to the statue of my Emperor, his face in the ever present scowl, and walked out.

In the following month it took us to returned home I spent a fair amount of my time designing the armor I wished to create and training with my sons. The memories of our last conflict still fresh, providing the fire for us all to strive to improve. For hours we battled across training mats, bruises and broken skin a daily occurrence as they learned to wield the swords I had given them.

The darkness of realspace blossomed into life as a hole was torn in the Immaterium, the fleet breaking free from its corrupting graspings. The sun of the solar system lighting our path and the multiple worlds in its orbit could just be seen as the backdrop of the universe. I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. I didn't have the opportunity to properly see how far my home had come after I had returned from my time with Michael, something I hoped to rectify when we returned planetside.

As we traveled towards our home we made preparation to move ourselves back to Erebor. The Guardsmen packed up their supplies, crates of weapons and munitions, and started to appear in the hanger. When the fleet entered into orbit with the planet dozens of transports left the ships and descended towards the surface. They then headed towards Tarth's second moon to dock with the moorings.

Our Thunderhawk flew through the storm that currently engulfed the area around the mountains; the winds buffeting and shaking our craft, the rain changing to snow as we landed in the bays cut into the mountain side. The wind finally dying in the hanger as the massive doors shut to the outside. Dozens of Serfs were there to greet us as we walked out. Ceramite boots thudding on stone, they were quick to start removing supplies from the Thunderhawks.

Another smile made its way to my face, being among the place that I had been raised in. Our Monastery greeted us with open arms. As the Serfs went about their business, the rest of us followed Drake down through the mountain. They had prepared the Great Hall for our arrival, having fair notice of when we would arrive. But we didn't travel there first.

In large metal caskets, each held by four Marines, we bore our dead brothers down into the darkness. When we arrived in the solar system, a message had been sent to Richard to prepare their final resting place. Far away from the planet's surface, we entered into a large hall, the ceiling a dozen meters above us, dim lights shining from their places were they hung from pillars. Three empty holes were cut into the stone, a perfect fit to slide the caskets into.

In silence, we slipped them into their final resting, the names etched above the graves. We stood there for a moment, Drake nodding to Anellius as he stepped forward, his helmet clipped into his belt, its skulled face grinning in the dark.

"Here we lay to rest our brothers, their bodies will lay in remembrance to those who come after us, a reminder, and a warning. But such sacrifice is the way of a Space Marine, we should not grieve, for their watch has come to an end, ours has not. We must honor their memory by striding ever forward, to remain the shield that will guard the realms of man." At once, every Marine in the hall pounded their chest in salute, the single sound ringing along the stone before fading into the black. Drake laid hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

"Today marks the end of our first true voyage. We traveled into the darkness and fought it back before returning home. Tonight we celebrate our victory over the Greenskins that plagued another Imperial World!" The Clans shouted their agreement and we traveled back from the dark and into the Great Hall, its massive expanse stretching out before us. Tables and chairs had been pulled from storage and placed in the First Clans section.

The tables were arranged close to where my father's throne was placed on a raised place of honor, a few chairs next to him along a long table. Marines not in a Clan filled some of the outer tables, other seats filled with both Neophytes and Aspirants. I felt the eyes of those sitting on me as the Clans dispersed among those present, each claiming a seat. Those of us who lead Clans were called to the top table, our teachers already sitting. The Wolves raised their mugs in salute, our Gray Knight and Salamander mentors giving us a nod. Marcus spoke over the low din of noise as we took our seats.

"Well now, seems you've come back blooded at long last. Did you get any good kills while you were away?" Most of us shrugged, only Thorak spoke up.

"Took the head of a minor Warboss during one of our battles. Would have taken it home but it was squished by one of his Nobz when they tried to avenge him." Marcus laughed.

"Only you would have one of your trophies destroyed in front of your eyes, boy." His eyes trailed to the rest of us before his eyes landed on me. "Well now, you have to have an interesting story Aragorn. You'll make me sad if I find out you didn't fight an entire horde by yourself." I thought about it for a moment before answering.

"I ripped the head off a Gorkanaut and crushed the skull of the Nob inside it." The Techmarine stared at me for a moment before starting to chuckle.

"Only somebody like you would find that unworthy of a battle story. Come on now, tell us the details." As I told him about the defence Serfs appeared from small doorways in the sides of the food in their arms streamed the pertinent aromas of the meal as they placed it down in massive heaps before the assembled host. Before we could start to eat Drake rose, the noise dying in a moment.

"The Iron Drakes have completed our first war in defence of humanity, the first of many. Tonight, we hear the stories those who have fought and honor those who have fallen!" A cheer went up as the conversations started anew, small crowds soon forming to surround those who had battled the Greenskins.

I smiled along with the rest, eyes on my father as his facial expression changed. His eyes widened for just a moment and he almost turned to look behind himself before he shook his head and turned forward as if nothing had happened. I frowned for a moment at the strange action but quickly resumed telling my story to the waiting Wolf.

For hours we drank and told our stories. The mood lifting ever higher as the Wolves brought out their own home brewed liquor. It tasted awful but it did its job. The inhibitions of several Marines loosening as they drowned yet another mug. I watched it all with a small sad smile, still thinking of those who slept in the crypts below. With these thoughts in mind, I gave a nod to those around me and slipped away, planning to head off into the forges.

I was aware of the looks I received as I left the table but paid them little mind. Walking through the cold stone hallways brought upon me a small sense of peace, memories of my childhood filling each step, losing myself to the nestalgia. From the Hall I descended until I came upon the forges, metal doors sliding open at a touch. I moved over to my old crafting station after so many months away. Everything was as I had left it, tools maintained by a careful hand for my return. I smiled at the memories of sneaking down here with Bran and forging in secret. I slid out a metal stool and sat down, ready to continue the progress I had started on the Power Armor that would clad me in future battles.

I was blind to the passing of time as I poured all my energy into my creation. Hours slipped me by, lost for the rest of time as I worked. When the next morning came the Artificers of the Chapter entered, surprise on their faces as I gave a brief nod between my work. They didn't disturb me, focused on starting their own daily tasks, bolter shells to create and systems of the Monastery to maintain. When I finally stood up my back cracked, stiff from the hours I had spend staring at the designs before me. A low groan of relief passing my lips as I cracked my neck. The armor wasn't complete, but progress had been made nonetheless, and that was something I was pleased with.

Still I felt far too restless. Any sense of weariness from the long hours tolling away was nonexistent as I knew I had responsibilities to attend to now that we were back at the Monastery. When I had returned last time, Drake had us training and gone almost right after. There had been no time given to see with my own eyes how my home had grown. With this in mind I walked out of the forges, giving a farewell wave to the Artificers who now worked at their stations.

It didn't take me long to find someone who I hadn't yet gotten a chance to speak with during my short time back. Amber walked through the halls of Erebor with a purpose, her hard bottom shoes clicking on the stone floor as she went. Her eyes went wide when they locked with mine. A small smile made its way to my face as I beheld both my teacher and the caretaker I had when I was a small child. She stared for a few moments before raising a single eyebrow.

"It's nice of you to finally find time to say hello, Aragorn." I almost winced at the sharp tone, my smile turning a bit more guity.

"I'm afraid time didn't allow it. How have the years treated you?" I looked her over to satisfy my own curiosity. The first signs of wrinkles where just visible around her eyes, a slight change in color to her hair, the very first bits of gray, from stress or otherwise, was starting to show. Her eyes where different now, having lost the visible distaste that had once been ever present inside of them.

"They have been," She paused, pulling back from the remark that had almost left her tongue. "The years have been good to me. Drake sees that I have all that I could want. And in return, I teach the next generations of Marines a basic education. Something the wolves could do with." I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the barb, wondering what kind of fallout had happened between the two while I had been gone.

"Did something happen?" She sighed as she crossed her arms.

"That barbarian wouldn't know how to act in a proper society if it wasn't for the hundreds of years they have had to temper his attitude." I smiled a bit, knowing the Techmarine could be brash at times.

"He isn't made to be civil Amber, but a warrior and a crafter of weapons. You can't expect him to be a scholar." She rolled her eyes, arms still crossed.

"I'm well aware of that. But we can speak of that later. Tell me of your time away, it must have been interesting." We sat side by side for the next few hours, having found a quiet place to sit among the stone halls as I recounted some of the more interesting parts of my journey. I left out those that I had been sworn to keep secret, but I still had a fair amount to say.

"By the time we knew we were lost, while looking for the Eldar Webway, we had been following our guide into the swamps for days. They had a local legend about a particular plant and one of Michael's informants brought it to his notice. That planet had several nasty kinds of parasitic species on it, but the worst was the massive carnivorous slugs that made that swarmp their home. Hard chintius armor that was just tough enough to stop a few shots from a Bolter. We fell into a group of them and half our retinue was eaten before we killed them all. Michael was going to have our guides wiped for wasting his time and men, only for them to have already fled into the wetlands. In the end, it took us months before we found the portal and destroyed it. Then another two weeks for us to make it back to civilization."

Amber was surprisingly attentive while I spoke, genuinely interested in the stories I had to tell. We talked for hours before our conversation came to an end. For us, this happened when a Serf walked up to us and bowed, waiting to be acknowledged before speaking.

"My Lord and Lady. The Chapter Master is requesting your presence in the Librarium, my Lord. It seemed urgant." I gave Amber a nod and she waved as I walked away, the Serf keeping pace as I headed to the Librarium.

"Do you know what exactly it is he wants?"

The man shook his head. "No, my Lord, only that he has asked for you."

"Thank you, return to your duties." He stopped to bow before turning off, disappearing into the stone labyrinth. I continued forward to the stores of our knowledge, opening one of the many doors into its hold. It had filled since my childhood, entire bookshelves now ladened full of books and scrolls. The small sounds of quills as Serfs made copies filled the otherwise still air. Drake was seated at a table off the main work area, his hand in motion as he too wrote. I pulled out a chair next to him and sat as he finished a sentence, placing his quill back into its inkpot.

"You left the feast early. As a result, many were worried about you." I felt a small pang of guilt at learning this, but could only find myself shrugging.

"I had other things that I wished to do, and less time to do them all. I stayed long enough." Drake frowned for just a moment before sitting back in his chair to look up at me.

"Be that as it may, it's not why I have asked you here. I have spoken to many of those who watch over the native population of the planet. There are after all, several million of them outside our control. Entire tribes on the other side of the planet; some of them are virtual empires, having dozens of small cities, leading to huge cumulative populations. News of our presence is finally spreading to the farthest reaches, and now that they know of us, it is time we brought them under our rule." I blinked in surprise. I remembered the city he had wiped off the map years ago to send a message to the surrounding native clans that we would not tolerate any attacks on our people. Some have come into the fold since then, but I had somehow forgotten that the rest of the planet was populated as well.

"How are you going to go about this? It will be a massive undertaking if we are to accomplish it personally. What is your end goal here?" Drake smiled a bit, but it was a sad smile.

"If we can bring these people up to the technological level of our Capital and other cities, they would bolster not only the full productivity our planet would be able to do, but also give a massive boost the amount of soldiers we can recruit. It would also mean we could stop the high level of immigration we currently have and start building a culture for Tarth" I nodded, knowing such things had always been needed in the years to come. Most of the native population were also an incredibly hardy people, a major boon in adding them to our ranks.

"That is where you come in. Soon you are going to head out with your Clan and ensure the loyalty of the natives. How you go about this, will be up to you. This task your mission to do with as you see fit. It is time you start learning how to run a planet." I stared for a long moment before I respond.

"What?" A ghost of a smile made its way onto my father's face.

"You know that one day it will be up to you to lead the Iron Drakes. That includes managing your greatest resource, Tarth. You learned the ins and outs of Imperial society while you where with Michael, it's time to put those skills to use. And with those skills now is the time to bring the entire world under our banner." I frowned as my mind whirled, my fingers starting to idly tap on the table.

"If that is what you want, I will bring them all into the fold. But why now? Why not a more gradual approach?" Drake leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering the table before us.

"Because if the last war showed us anything, it would be that we don't have enough manpower to fight efficiently. The population of our citizens isn't even one million, yet. We have refugees from worlds we have saved and those from both the nearby Agri-World and Feudal-World. But currently we don't have a culture: our people are only linked together by the fact that we are their masters. In the Capital, they have already started living in districts that primarily reflect the culture they were originally associated. Those natives that have integrated into our way of life have helped this process partially, but we need to start cultivating the type of people we want in our society a hundred years from now." The idea of manipulating our people to better fit our goals left a slight feeling of unease in my stomach, but I knew it was something that would be for the benefit of all in the long run. The stronger the Iron Drakes grew, the better off the future of our people would be.

"Will anybody else be joining me for this?" Drake shook his head.

"No, this will be something just for you. Unless you feel you will need the additional help?" At his slightly inquisitive tone, I scoffed, causing Drake to smirk in return. "There is one other task for you, before I send you off. You must select two new Clan members form the Unchosen."

I raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar term and Drake elaborate, "It's what those who have already completed the Black Carapace Implants but not yet joined a Clan are calling themselves. I will have to see about promoting more Clan leaders in the future to fill the ranks. We don't want Marines sitting around base with nothing productive to fill their time. Many of them train harder than others in hopes of being selected. Naturally this selection is very important to them." I remembered seeing those clad in armor at the tables the night before, a hunger in their eyes seeking more than just food.

"That is understandable. Do you have planned how we are going about selection?" He shook his head.

"That is fully to your discretion. Zane will be doing the same for his Clan, as well. You can do it together or separate, the proceedings are completely up to you." I sat in silence for a minute as I thought over it, my mind inevitably going back to my decision to demote Thudin. He hadn't shown any true change in his behavior during the siege so I was still standing by my choice, but I took no pleasure in it.

"I'll be setting the precedent for the entire Chapter, won't I?" Drake nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"You're the Primarch of a Chapter, Aragorn. What you do, noticed by yourself or not, is mirrored by the younger Marines. Already several of them have taken to doing small amounts of work in the forges. The other day they flooded Bran and Mortis with questions on the basics." I let out a sigh, shaking my head.

"I miss the days when you organized everything and I just showed up." Drake chuckled and stood. I rose as he did.

"It's part of growing up, I'm afraid. You have to start taking on the mantle that was chosen for you. Go see Richard, he could help you find a suitable location to hold the selection. As well, talk to Zane, since you may wish to wok with him on this." I nodded, then turned toward the main entrance, looking over the growing selection of books one last time before opening the door. Closing them gently behind me, as to not disturb those inside, I marveled at the growing wealth of knowledge our people were slowly fostering. From there I journeyed through the stone hallways to the residence of Richard, my father's head Serf. I knocked on the door twice before an irritated voice from inside carried out.

"Enter." I opened the door to see a large wooden desk covered in paper, the eyes of the man behind it coming up to find my own. Surprise filling those same eyes in a moment as he hurried to stand up from his chair.

"My Lord, I'm very sorry, I had no idea you were coming." He made to bow, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"You have known me since I was a child, Richard. You needn't bow to me." The old man grinned and eased himself back into his chair.

"It is good to see you after so long, Aragorn. How have the last few years treated you?" I once again launched into an overview of my time away, the elder listening with as much eager attention as Amber had earlier. His eyes widened as I recounted a run in with Ork Pirates and the horrid journey through the swamplands. A knock on the door interrupted us, and Richard, smiling lightly in apology, rose his voice for his customary, "Enter."

A Serf entered, started eyes widening when he saw me standing there as he hurriedly dropped a few papers on Richard's desk before hastily bowing and departing. The old man picked up the paper and sighed as his eyes skimmed over the page, letting it fall back to the table with a second deeper sigh.

"Problems?" I asked with concern. Richard looked up and shook his head.

"Nothing that you need worry yourself over, just a bit of discourse among some of the older Serfs. With new blood coming in all the time those that came here first feel threatened. They seem to think that they have some kind of position of influence. Only a few of them are upset really, but I try to put down any and all disputes so that Drake doesn't have to worry about it." I blinked in surprise, wondering just how much this man did for our Chapter that was unknown to us.

"Thank you for that, Richard. I don't know what we would do without you." He smiled for a moment, reliving some memory.

"It is all I can do to repay your father's kindness for what he has done for me and my family, so I serve him to the best of my ability." We sat in silence for a while, each absorbed with our own thoughts before I raised my head to speak.

"Do you know a place I could hold a selection for the Unchosen?" Richard's eyebrows turned down in a frown for just a moment, his hands folding together under his chin.

"There are many large and unused rooms in the Fortress. When your father first started to build, he let the engineers go wild. The Serfs will be digging out space for years to come." I drummed my fingers on my leg for a moment as the two of us pondered the question.

"Tell me, do any of the Unchosen stand out to you? Any who you think are worthy of joining the Clans?" Richard's brow dipped again in thought.

"It is not my place to speak of such things my Lord." I waved a hand in dismissal.

"Nonsense, you have been here since the start, seen the Iron Drakes grow from nothing to what we are today. I know you see how they are when the rest of us are not around. How they act towards the Serfs." His head cocked slightly to the side in question.

"Is something troubling you?" My hand stopped drumming as my eyes met his.

"I worry for the nature of the Drakes. Thudin's demotion has weighted on my mind. I don't want to see others following in his footsteps." Richard nodded in understanding.

"News of his demotion spread quickly once you came home. But to fair to him he has always treated the Serfs equally, unthanked, but never overly harsh. But he has always been that way, to the point and forward. It is simply his nature. What brought out his actions during your battles I do not know." I took a deep breath and released it, air sliding through my teeth.

"Well, no matter, thank you for the conversation Richard, we will have to speak again soon." He smiled at me and stood, hand extending over the desk.

"It was my pleasure my Lord. If you ever have need of anything, do not hesitate to ask." I shook his hand and departed, closing the door behind me. From there I set off to find Zane, also wondering his opinion on this matter.

My first stop was to check his quarters, but the Serf who tended to them wasn't sure where he was. I took just a moment to observe my friend's living area. It was spartan, a bed and some shelving with a single blood stained axe sitting on stone shelving, a trophy from the last campaign his only real adornment. I bid the Serf goodbye and went about searching for him in the rest of the monastery, a seemingly impossible task considering the size of Erebor.

As I passed through the hallowed halls I happened upon two of the Unchosen, walking slowly together and speaking amongst themselves. They both looked up as I neared, their eyes widening just a bit in surprise before they both bowed their heads and saluted, one hand pounding into their breastplate.

"Primarch, it is an honor to speak with you." My eyes trailed over their features, so like my own but individual in their own way.

"I haven't had nearly the opportunity I wished for to speak to my fellow Marines after my return, and then we set off for war. It is something I hope to change in the coming months. What are your names?"

"Inviricus and Sol, Primarch." I remembered Drake telling me that some of the younger Marine's saw me more as a father than a brother.

"Would you two by chance know where Zane is?" They shook their heads, but I could tell something else was burning in their eyes.

"So it's true then? You're selecting some of the Unchosen?" I kept my face carefully blank in response, seeing the hunger in their eyes.

"It's possible, but I need to find Zane first. If you see him, let him know I am looking for him." They nodded and I continued my search, hearing their voices rise in a whisper after I had turned the corner. I briefly thought about voxing for him to meet me, but found that I enjoyed my wanderings through the Fortress a fair amount.

It took me another hour to find my friend, walking alongside one of his Clan, Rawkin if memory served. Zane looked up at my approach and gave me a nod.

"Aragorn, how does it feel to be back home?"

"Good, but I'm afraid rest isn't for me just yet." He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Drake needs us to select from the Unchosen to replace the loss to our Clans." Zane looked to the side for a moment before chucking.

"About that, I was going to ask if I can have Fane moved under my command. The two of us work well together, and he's a close friend." I nodded without hesitation, knowing the two of them shared a bond.

"Of course, I'll fill his spot with another Unchosen as well. Consider him yours, Zane." He smiled for a moment before crossing his arms.

"Why does Drake have you replacing Clan members so quickly? We just buried our dead." I shrugged.

"He has me heading to unify the other native tribes soon. I will need to get the newcomers up to speed and integrated as fast as possible. We've mourned enough, the galaxy won't wait on us." He nodded his agreement, Rawkin still standing off to the side with his arms crossed in contemplation.

"What tribes does he wish for you to unify?"

"All of them." His eyes widened in a bit of surprise.

"That, could take a very long time…" I nodded.

"Drake wants me to gain some experience. As with almost everything he has me do, he thinks it will help in readying myself to command the Iron Drakes, as well as Tarth someday." Zane's eyes flickered to the side for a moment in thought before returning.

"Drake has always spoken of the day that you would lead us, it's…" He trailed off, concern flickering in his eyes before he continued.

"Regardless, I wish you the best of luck. I'm surprised he isn't including the rest of us, but I'm sure he has his reasons." My eyes didn't leave his, concern coiling in my gut like a serpent.

"What do you mean about my father Zane. Don't keep things from me." Richard looked between us for a moment before excusing himself. Zane's eyes following him for a moment before they came back to stare into my own.

"He… Those of us who have been here since the beginning, when we were just kids who were given up by our families. He sometimes makes comments about the leadership the rest of us will have to take up eventually, the roles we will have to play and how heavy the burden on our shoulders will be, Thran and Thudin especially. I... a few of us think he expects to die any day now. That's why he has placed so many of us in command positions even when we have so little experience." He took a breath before continuing.

"He is the same Drake that brought us in, but the way he speaks about the future has some of us worried for him." He shook his head eyes downcast.

"I don't know Aragorn, just, I wanted you to know." I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a solemn nod.

"Thank you Zane, I, hadn't noticed it but now that you bring it to my attention. If I need any support in the field, I'll be sure to send for you." He smiled and we went our separate ways.

Walking back through the Monastery I let myself go into autopilot as I tried to think of the best way that I could go about selecting three new Clan members, a distraction from what Zane had said about Drake. It seemed almost childish to throw them all into a room and have them fight till three stood victorious. Some Chapters did such things for their Aspirants trails, and it worked, for them.

I didn't know how to be fair to them all, there were only so many spots in my Clan. I let out a deep sigh, continuing my wandering until I came to my quarters. Sleep wasn't something I needed often, but perhaps rest would help me clear my mind. I opened the door and walked inside, the room was vastly different that those of the other Marines or the ones we had as children. It was a bit bigger for one, a small hallway leading to the large circular room where Ignis slept. I could see him there now, scales rising and falling with each great breath.

The sigh made me smile and I walked through the hall and sat against his side, his one eye opening and studyings me for a moment before it closed again. I felt contentment flow through our bond, and closed my own eyes to embrace darkness.

When I opened them the next day stood resolute from Ignis's side, mind cleared and ready to start choosing new Clan members in earnest. I got a low rumble from my companion, smiling as I reached down to scratch the are below his eye. After a pleased growl that rumbled through the stone floor I walked out of my room and quickly found a Serf. He bowed as I approached.

"Good morning my Lord, what can I do for you?" I gave him a smile in response before I spoke.

"Gather together all my Clan members, I have much to discuss with them, have them meet me in the our training room."

"As you command my Lord, I will see that it is done." I nodded my thanks and walked through the Monastery, passing by one of the smaller temples to the Emperor along my walk. I was surprised to see the Salamander there, speaking to a collection of Serfs. Anellius stood beside him, our only Chaplain among the Iron Drakes. My Clan could wait for a small while as I strode into the very back of the Chapel, standing behind the back pews as a statue of the Emperor passed silent judgment. Both Marines only recognition to my presence was a momentary stare before Samuel continued to preach.

"In the words of the Cardinal Melicardo. Do not lust after power that is not yours, and strive to gain which is not given by the Emperor. All comes through him, for he give and take away." He spread his hands to gesture to all present.

"Your lives are given in service to the greatest of the Emperor's soldiers, to serve them is one of the highest honors a citizen of the Imperium can have. The Emperor has given you this privilege, do not waste it. The Emperor protects." The chant was said back to him, the Serfs rising and leaving, surprise in their eyes as they saw me.

Samuel turned and started to speak to Anellius, who listened to some teaching. After the Serfs left, I walked up the aisle to where the two of them stood. Samuel giving me nod.

"Aragorn, I'm glad you could make it to a sermon." I didn't rise to the barb and simply grinned.

"If you didn't hold them so early in the morning I might come to more of them, but I'm not here for a lesson I'm afraid, I'm here for Anellius." He looked up in surprise at my mention.

"What do you need of me?"

"I want to know if you will come with me on my assignment from Drake." Both Chaplains raised a silent eyebrow in question.

"He is sending me out to bring the rest of the planet under banner, we have a few cities and towns, some populated by the native population, but he seeks to bring the rest of them into the fold." Samuel's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"That is no small undertaking, the size of this world is large, the population it the millions. How will you go about it?" I crossed my arms and shrugged.

"In all honesty, I don't know. I could head to every major city, kill the ruler and implement our rule, but that won't ensure the loyalty of the people. I need to create something for them to focus on, bringing them into the Imperial Cult will be helpful in this regard." Samuel nodded in understanding.

"Part of the reason Humanity still stands is our belief in the Emperor, it binds us and fills us with purpose, it is wise of you to bring them into the faith." I knew it was a good plan but that didn't mean I loved it. I had seen the blind dogma that some worlds had, people burned at the stake to satisfy mobs of blood hungry devotes. That was never something I would let Tarth turn into.

"It will bind us together, and I want you to help me do it Anellius." His eyes flicked to Samuel for a moment, the Salamander giving a tiny nod.

"Of course, however I may serve the Chapter." I smiled.

"I will notify you when we are to leave, first, I must select a few new members from the Unchosen." The two waved goodbye as I left the chapel, headed to the Clans personal training room. I opened the door to six faces turning towards me expentently, each of them wielding the blades I had forged for them.

"It's good to see all of you again, I've called you here this morning to get your opinions on how we should select new members of the Clan." Silence was meet to my declaration until Turgon walked forward.

"Put em' in a fight with one another, the three who come up on top will be chosen." Invictus shook his head.

"Your always thinking with your muscles Turgon, use that brain the Apothecary helped you develop." He looked towards me. "Put them in teams of three, give them an objective, the team that completes it should move forward, only one test isn't a fair challenge." Zyron nodded, and Olok added his own thoughts.

"The choice isn't up to us, we should only present our ideas to Aragorn." I waved a hand to dismiss his argument.

"I brought you all here to listen to your ideas. This isn't just my Clan, I may lead you, but it is all of you that make up its parts. I would hear any thoughts on the matter." To my suprise Zuriel spoke.

"Aragorn, if I may, any of the Unchosen will mold themselves into what you seek the Clan to be. Competition may breed dissent among those not chosen. We Iron Drakes are prideful, select those whose attitudes and personalities fit the Clan." I looked around the room to see other nodding, perhaps more trials and tests where not needed.

"Then who?" A dozen names were addressed, since each of the Clan came from different years after my own, some of them knew them personally. We discussed it for much of the day, going over history and what stuck out about each member.

When we were finished selecting I sent Serfs looking for the Marines. Part of me wanted to simply bring them into the Clan, but the other knew that I should make something more of it. With the idea of grandeur on my mind the Clan set out for Erebors main Chapel. The massive statue of the Emperor behind me, pews filled with sons both in Clans and Unchosen. The ever present smell of the incense burners still made my nose curl, but I withheld any facial expression as I looked down at the three Marines kneeling before me with heads bowed. Off to the side Drake and our other mentors watched in silence.

"Sol, Invicarius, Grithald. Years ago each of you were given to join the ranks of the Iron Drakes, for years you have trained to become warriors without peer, this is a task that will never end. But your devotion will be rewarded." I went and stood before Sol.

"Do you swear to uphold the honor of the Chapter, to live and die in the service of the Emperor of Mankind? To kill his enemies and protect the worlds of humanity?" He looked up, eyes filled with conviction as he nodded.

"Then know your purpose as an Iron Drake." I repeated the same with the others, coming and standing in the middle.

"Rise, brothers, as full Marines of the Chapter." They rose, and I saw a nod from Drake off to the side. I turned my attention to the rest of the seated Marines, a grin from where Thorak sat.

"Welcome your new brothers." The others cheered them in, the normally quiet place boisterous, the three new Drakes gave each other a smile and congratulated one other, it was a moment that made me smile. But as all things do, the ceremony ended, Marines going back to their tasks and training as I lead my sons to a nearby Oratorium, where I gave them a summary of what our next few months would be.

I knew that Drake was using this as a training mission for me, but it was one that would involve the lives of millions. Besides bringing the populations into the Imperial Cult, I had no idea how I was going to go about subduing entire nations, I had a few thoughts, but I still wasn't sure what path I was going to take.

Perhaps in some hope of further direction the next day I knocked on my fathers door, opening it a moment later as his head came up from the scrolls and papers that covered his desk.

"I wanted to know if there was any other parameters for the mission you gave me." I paused for a second before continuing. "You left it fairly open ended father." Drake nodded and rose from behind his desk.

"I did so on purpose, I won't always be here to give you direction, it is up to you to decide how you want to complete your objective, I will stand behind whatever action you take." I felt a tiny bit of frustration build but I knew he was right. I was a Primarch, made in the Geneforges of the Emperor to lead. I needed the experience.

"Very well, if I may, I would like to bring the Fourth Regiment along with me, I want to integrate them into fighting alongside us better, as well as cement them as ours." Drake pondered the question for a moment, eyes trailing alongside the barren walls of the room before he nodded.

"I cannot see why not." A moment of silence passed as I nodded in finality.

"Very well then, I will be in contact soon, but if you have nothing else for me, I will prepare." Drake returned to his work and I left the room, a journey to the Librarium to start to make myself informed of the different people's that we knew off.

In the years before we had dealt with a number of different Clans, the Xule and Mordo had been some of the first we had ever interacted with. The first being destroyed to send a message, the second allying itself with us. There were hundreds of these Clans, the Mordo elders had done us a service of providing all the information they could about the others, but even then, there was a planet full of them.

I soon found my hands tapping a rhythm on the table, wondering how I could bring them under banner without having to travel to each major city and town, making the ruler bend his knee and swear his loyalty, but was that a permanent solution? The Emperor had done it during the Great Crusade, the Legions of his Space Marines crashing down on worlds and breaking them, millions of human soldiers left in their wake to keep order. That was not the world I wanted to create.

I had no doubt that war would be needed for loyalty, crafting and building the legend of the giant warriors from far away lands who came and conquered. But, as with the natives who had already joined our cities, the advancements in tech they saw and benefited from might be the other half to solving the problem. I wasn't looking forward the the bureaucracy of it all, but hopefully I could leave that to others who where more suited to such management.

It was with these thoughts rolling through my mind that I left the library and headed towards the hangers, calling down as I went for Jon to prepare my Thunderhawk. The craft was running when I walked through the doors and into the bay, massive doors cut open to the wind that howled outside. It whipped around as I walked up the ramp, Jon waving from the front.

"My Lord, where too?" I sat down in the seats as I answered.

"The Capital, Military district, I need to speak to one of Colonels." He nodded and the door closed, the sounds of the engines rumbling growing louder as we lifted off and left the Monastery.

It was a short flight, but I enjoyed looking down at the city where all of this had begun all the same, it had grown larger all those years I had been away, the influx of people from the Agri and Feudal-Worlds had done much to boost our population to higher levels. I idly wondered if Drake would stop the influx in a few more years if the integration of the native population went well enough, allowing the planet to grow at its own rate.

Jon had a short conversation over the Vox before we were given a place to land, setting down inside the militarized zone of the city. There where a number of bases and camps that we maintained for security and training outside of the capital, but a large majority of soldiers lived in the barracks in the cities. Brandon should be with the rest of the officers here, now it was simply the task of finding him. I stood up as Jon looked back from the cockpit, question in his eyes.

"I won't be long, but you can turn off the Thunderhawk if you want." He nodded and started to shut it down, the engines whirling down as I walked down the ramp. All around soldiers in uniform walked about, several doing drills or other kinds of training. As I watched in open curiosity for a few moments I realized I was fairly disconnected to the actual running of our own Guardsman, another thing to change.

I started to walk towards one of the larger buildings, a sign outfront labeling it was an administrative building. I had to duck through the door it fit, the eyes of every person on me as I walked up to the desk, the clerk sitting their wide eyed.

"How may I serve you today my Lord?" I could hear his heart hammering inside his chest and tried to smile to relieve his stress, but it only highenged at the sight of my lengthened fangs.

"I would like to know where the office of Colonel Brandon." He nodded and quickly reached for a piece of paper, writing down the locations by memory.

"You can find them in the HQ my Lord, he should be there right now, unless you would also like the home addresses, I can find that information for you as well." I shook my head.

"I don't think that will be needed, thank for your help." The man bowed in his seat and I turned away, walking out the doors and out into the evening light. It was only a few minute walk to the HQ building, entering through the too small of door and up two floors, I knocked on Brandon office. When I opened the door, his eyes rose to meet mine, rising from his chair.

"My Lord, how may I serve?"

"I've been tasked by Drake to bring all of the native peoples under our banner, I am requesting your help with the task." He stared at me for just a moment before leaning on his desk.

"The entire world Sir?" I nodded and his eyebrows raised.

"That, is a lot of land to cover, the Fourth are still in the process of replenishing our forces and equipment stores, we won't be fully operational for a few months, unless you put in the order for us to receive the equipment ahead of the other Regiments." I pondered it for a moment before answering.

"As far as I know, Drake has no plans on us heading out on another military campaign. Consider the permission given, I may need use of you and your men sooner than I hope. But, if I could complete my mission without bloodshed, I would." He wrote down the information before looking back up at me.

"If I may, I would ask that you tell Octavian directly, he can be a stickler when it comes to giving out resources that don't have full documentation." I chucked a bit, knowing how the Tech-priests could be.

"I have been wanting to see the Forge-Moon that my father had ordered constructed for some time now, it will be a good opportunity to see just how far along it has come. I'll ensure that the equipment is provided." He nodded and I said my goodbyes before leaving, quickly heading back to my Thunderhawk and giving Jon our new directions. The craft rumbled to life and slowly rose into the air, clearing the space before shooting up towards the atmosphere. I peered out the window as we broke away from the gravitational pull of Tarth. Out of our three moons, two were being used. One as a place of massive forge undertakings, the other as a drydock and repair stations for our ships. What would be done with the third was unknown, but I'm sure Drake had plans for it eventually.

Jon had another short conversation over the Vox, getting a landing zone before we started to land, other transports in view bringing raw materials from Tarth and those same transports returning with finished goods. While the moon itself had some mineral stores, the infrastructure needed wasn't totally set up to support a self sustaining production just yet. Most of the moon's resources and factories were currently pumping out further parts and pieced needed to turn the rest of the moon into a factory, besides what was being created to supply the planet.

We touched down and the doors opened, unlike the other Forge-worlds I had visited, it was still unclogged by the smoke that would choke the lungs of unaugmented civilians. I breathed deep and took in the new smells of the place, it reminded me of the forges from the Monastery, bringing a smile to my face. Even from here I could hear the sounds of steel being beaten into shape and the welders binding metal to purpose.

I brought my eyes to a set of doors at the end of the metal walkway as they opened, a Tech walking out, flanked by two adepts. I could hear the gears turning under his skin, the pulsing of oil and blood that ran through his body. His right arm was fully mechanical, a number of tools attached to the fingers. His red robes draped across the ground, disturbing the ash and dust that had collected from the tall stacks that loomed above us. He nodded his head before he spoke, voice almost completely normal.

"Greetings Lord Aragorn, I am sorry that I am the only one to greet you, we only had a short amount of notice to your coming." I waved a hand to dismiss his apology.

"Do not worry, I'm here to see Octavian about the distribution of resources to the Fourth Regiment. As well as see how this project has advanced." The Tech nodded and motioned a hand towards the open door, his eyes lingering in the thunderhawk behind us.

"If I may, I will give you a tour while we journey towards the main Manufactorum." I took a slow step forward and we started, the Priest telling me of production quotas and how fast new buildings were being constructed. Passing along a long bridge suspended over a main line I looked down over the edge to see a men and women working tirelessly to help meet the demands of our nation.

"How have the changes made to the lasguns from the last campaign come about?" The Tech paused in surprise for a moment before responding.

"It has gone well, we deduce that the lethality will increase by almost twenty percent with the upcoming models." He paused for a moment before continuing.

"My fellow Priests have told stories of how you helped them with the data collected from the war with the Orks, but I had not expected you to take such an interest." I wasn't really sure how to take such a comment, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I take great pleasure in forging, and seeing improvements made to our soldiers is an interest because I seek to ensure that we have the greatest possibility of winning the battles we will find ourselves in. If I could help ensure more of our soldiers can return home, then I would be happy to give up my time." The Tech was quiet for the rest of the trip as we finally came to the massive doors that Octavian called his home.

He bid himself goodbye and I watched him walk for a moment before turning back, the doors opening a moment later for me to walk inside. Wires and cogitators made up much of the room, Octavian was currently plugged into his forge, sitting on a kind of throne as his one unaugmented eye opened. Since the last time I had seen him he had become far more metal than man, much of his limbs and body being replaced with cybernetics, almost his entire face becoming steel and wire.

"Primarch of the Iron Drakes, how can I assist you today." The Magos, as I would find it strange to call him anything else at this point, was completely still as his voice came from some speakers around the room.

"I have come to see how the Forge-moon has been coming along. I know Drake spoke of it from time to time. I have also been given orders to subjugate the rest of Tarth, the native populations. For this I will be needing the Fourth Regiment, and I need them to get fully rearmed alongside supplying them with Carapace Armor." Octavian didn't speak for a full four seconds seconds, but I could hear the minute increase in the sounds of his metal parts.

"This is able to be done, considering that there are no major problems with production in the future it will hardly set back the full rearmament of the other Regiments." I looked back at him from where my eyes had been wondering the room, filled with the low buzz of his tech operating.

"Thank you, I don't think Drake will be sending them out on any military operations anytime soon." Octavian nodded his acceptance, his eye unfocusing for just a moment as orders had been given.

"Consider it done," He paused for a moment before continuing. "What do you think of the Forge-moon so far?" I was surprised by the question but smiled a bit at all I had seen.

"It's coming along nicely, I am eager to see what you will be able to do with it in the future once it is fully built. Without your help, I'm sure the Iron Drakes would be far worse off than we currently are. We owe you a fair deal Octavian." His eye focused on me for a moment before he smiled what he could.

"I owe Drake a great deal, it is my honor to serve the Emperor's son." I bid him goodbye and left him to his calculations before walking back through the forges, the sounds fading as I lost myself in my thoughts, wondering just how far we would be able to push our production levels before other parts of the Imperium started to grow wary of our power.

Before I knew it I was back at the thunderhawk, Jon starting up the transport and bringing us back to the Monastery, its massive blast doors closing as the machine powered down. I stood up and we both walked down the ramp. Sparing a glance down at my pilot and once again realized that besides the months he had served me I knew very little about him, only sparse conversations on a new destination whenever it was required. Perhaps the coming campaign would be a good a time an any to learn more from him, but today I had other plans. With this in mind I nodded my goodbye and headed deeper into the Monastery.

Now there was only one remaining task that I needed to complete before I set off, the crafting of the armor that I had been designing. I had set aside all the materials, Adamantium and the highest grade of Ceramite we could create, before locking myself away in the forges and beginning to craft.

As it always was when I threw myself into a project time became meaningless, minutes and hours fading into obscurity. Only the pounding of metal into shape, the connecting of wires and custom built systems mattered. I had gone all out for its creation. Every Primarch had themselves a set that had put them apart from one another, and so would I.

Months passed as I toiled, the Artificers providing what help they could, but my skills greatly outmatched their own. Mortis and Bran heard about the project and came to help, their hands speeding up the process by several factors. Sparks flew and the fires burned hotter and hotter as we pushed forward, a driving force commanding us to see the project completed.

By the end, it was my greatest work I had done yet, a symbol to how far I had come since I had first picked up a hammer. Marcus, the Space Wolf Techmarine who had helped me start my journey as a smith so long ago, stood back with us as we admired the finished product, sitting on an armor rack, waiting to be put on.

"You've done a fine job Aragorn." I was almost surprised by the words as the wolf walked around the piece. He didn't give praise often.

"We have legends of how powerful the Primarchs are, we sing songs of our Father in our sacred halls, each great warrior immortalized in song. But I would struggle to find such work among even the greatest of our smiths." He turned to look me in the eye.

"You've proven yourself a fine craftsman Aragorn, I'm proud to have said I was once your teacher." I could only stare befuddled for a moment at the somber tone before shaking my head.

"I think you will always have something to teach me you old wolf." Marcus put his head back and laughed.

"Only time will tell." He looked over at Bran and Mortis. Their Servo-arms still hot from recent use.

"These two still have a long road ahead of them, can't make a sword, can hardly make nails!" The two Drakes rolled their eyes and smiled at their mentors ways, falling into easy conversation as I went about the task of placing on my new armor. Each piece fit perfectly, the suits systems locking into place with the Carapace under my skin. I flexed my fingers, rolling my shoulders as I tested the mobility, it was hardly hindered. With a final click I slid on the helmet, the suits systems coming to life as power flowed into the headpiece, information appearing in front of my eyes. I smiled, feeling the power that rippled from its form.

I turned to look at the others, each of them standing back in appreciation of the work we had done. Mortis cracked a grin.

"If you didn't look scary before, you are now." I chuckled and continued to test the systems of my armor. Bran nudged Mortis with his arm.

"So, when are we going to start on ours?" Mortis just shook his head as Marcus walked up to me.

"So, what are you going to do with it first?" I shrugged.

"Now that I have the Fourth with me, my Clan is whole again, I don't have a reason not to set out, within the week, we will be starting." Marcus nodded.

"Drake told me about it, you have one hell of a task ahead of you." I nodded, knowing our goal would be far from simple.

"The Emperor didn't create us to do what was easy Marcus, but to do what was needed." The wolf just smirked as I walked out the doors, a quick call across the Vox informing my Clan and Anellius that I was ready. They were prepared, as they had been for all the time I had spend in the forges. We spent a few days studying more of the native Clans and ensuring we had munitions and weapons loaded into the Thunderhawk before we meet in the hanger.

They gathered around me in a half circle as I tilted my wrist up, a small projector highlighting our first target. I could see their eyes roaming the armor that clad my form, drinking in the image.

"The city of Krares, our first destination for this campaign. From what we know it should be in pre-industrial conditions like the rest of the population, so we aren't expecting anything severe in terms of resistance, if it comes to that." I looked around for confirmation from the Clan and they responded with a salute, each of us turning towards the awaiting Thunderhawk.

I paused and looked to the side where Ignis was getting into his own transport, a fair amount of food placed inside for the flight. I had left him behind once before, it wasn't something I planned on doing again.

When all of us had seated we lifted off, the gear stored shifting in its holding as we cut through the air. It was silent for a few minutes before Olok turned his head towards me.

"Aragorn, the city we are landing in, have you decided how you want to start this all off?" I nodded.

"If possible, I want it to be peaceful, but we know from experience that the natives are prideful and many of them are warlike. If it comes to it, we will enforce our rule through might, but I hope that if it does come to that, seeing the benefits of living under our rule will make them loyal subjects." He nodded and sat back in his seat. Anellius spoke up next.

"And if we find any kind of Chaos taint? We know it's a possibility." I pondered his question for a moment before I answered.

"If we can convert them to the worship of the Emperor then we will, if they refuse or the taint runs too deep, we will have to put them to the sword. The risk of their Genes spreading through the rest of the population in coming generations is to great a risk." It didn't sit well with me, but I knew from experience from my time with Michael that the purity of the population was something that was incredibly important. While some would suffer from sins not of their own, future peoples would be better off because of it.

I took a moment to look around the bay, unlike other deployments there was little of the nervous energy that had been present before, after facing down a Greenskin horde, the idea of fighting humans with spears and swords was almost laughable. But human foes or not, I tried not to let myself relax, knowing the fate of these people rested in my ability to convince their leaders to bow to our rule.

We flew above the first of many cities after a few hours of traveling, finding the palace as Jon spotted a large enough space to set us down in the courtyard. Bolters were loaded and weapons checked, my eyes flickering to the three new members of the Clan, their hands steady, but they had an energy around them the others did not.

With a light thud we set down in front of the the palace, the doors opening and my Clan walking down the door. I was the last out, men with iron breastplates and spears trembling before us, a few dozen more pouring out from the nearby towers. Other people in threadbare clothing were fleeing and screaming in fear. Ignis departing from his own craft and roaring upon exit, ensuring every person in the city knew we were here. Our Thunderhawk took off as Anellius came to stand beside me, the eyes of every person there on us.

"My name is Aragorn of the Iron Drakes, I would speak to your king."


Well, I've beaten this chapter more than any horse should ever be.(Don't beat your horses people, I own some and they are wonderful animals.) So after months of it being done and me squinting over small parts, I uploaded it. Criticism is always appreciated, and I hope to bring the next one a bit faster.