Apologies for the delay in this chapter, I unfortunately caught Covid, thankfully I only experienced some extreme flu symptoms. I did take that time to go through and update some of the writing, spelling, and correct some errors in previous chapters. Those updates should be coming up soon. I will also be uploading the codex for the Bale Hounds legion, it will be titled Legiones Astartes Codex: II Legion, I'll let the writing speak for itself but I hope you guys enjoy that. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and how further different each of the Primarchs are from each other.


Chapter 10: The Herald and Huntsman

Many of my brothers were shocked when it had been revealed Lorgar had been spreading his own religion that worshiped the Emperor as a God, sadly I was not surprised, instead I was disappointed. There was a time Lorgar and I worked closely together, when I was not charged with more sensitive duties, but in those years I fear we never became terribly close, at least not from my perspective. I would be terribly shocked if Lorgar recalled our time together with true warmth, and not because I came to resent or regard him coldly as I did Russ or Perturabo, no this was a more complicated matter. Understand that both myself and Lorgar were raised in deeply spiritual cultures, but where Arcadia scorned the worship of gods, while Colchis placed the worship of divinity upon a marble pedestal. While I understand the need for haste, I question if both Malcador and the Emperor failed to properly assess Lorgar's true character and beliefs before reuniting him with his legion. I recall the myriad of subtle tests that Malcador had issued me to ensure that I not only did not follow any divinities, but understood that the Emperor was not a god himself. Or is that simply a testament to Lorgar's persuasive nature, that he fooled everyone into believing he took the Imperial Truth to heart?

Regardless of the truth, ever since we first waged war together, I had always suspected that Lorgar had been hiding something from others, and now I know it was his Imperial Creed. Whenever our joint fleet was in transit via the Warp, we would often spend our time playing regicide against each other, it was during these games I caught glimpses of Lorgar's true nature. The first time was while we were enroute to a sector that housed a cross species empire that worshiped the ruling dynastic aliens as gods, and while my legion was tasked with the destruction of their military, Lorgar and his Word Bearers were to rally the support of the common human workers under the edicts of the Imperial Truth. High Command had selected our two legions because they felt we were the best choices, as next to the Salamanders the Bale Hounds were the most aware and sympathetic to civilians, and Lorgar's skill for both diplomacy and swaying hearts with only his words had become legendary in those days. I was intrigued to be able to work alongside him, hoping that my legion's diplomats could learn from Lorgar's, until I discovered the unique specialist role of the Chaplains.

My education on Terra had covered the old human religions, especially the ancient Abrahamic faiths, of which Chaplains were considered ministers or priests of the old religious beliefs. It disturbed me that a brother of mine, one supposedly wholly dedicated to the Imperial Truth, would choose to revive such a title so deeply steeped in religious doctrine, and such a rank was so highly honored amongst his legion. It surprised me that he had not been chastised by any Imperial authority for using such an ancient and criminal title within the Word Bearers. Although perhaps that is not terribly surprising, both the Emperor and Malcador were increasingly busy those days, and Lorgar's legion had yet to have many chances to utilize their slow method of conquest. It may surprise very few to know that Lorgar's understanding of tactics paled in comparison to the rest of the Primarchs, make no mistake he is not tactically inept, but if those games of regicide were anything to go by, he only understood textbook strategy while occasionally abandoning tried and true tactics for too tempting of bait. Also while Lorgar may portray himself as a gentle and humble servant, beneath that is an ego that dwarfs all of my brothers, and I do not make such a claim easily. He does not handle insults towards both his intelligence, or his own abilities well, for I assure you that underneath his false calm exterior, he is plotting his revenge, but I will admit he is creative in his revenge. Tell me, who do you think it was that spread the rumors that Russ and his sons battle in drunken stupors, lay with wild animals, or grow wolf-like tails that they remove as talisman? It is no secret that Russ has openly mocked Lorgar and his legion's capabilities for war, and shortly after those insults spread so did those rumors of the Space Wolves. Truly, we brothers can act as spoiled children at times, nor do I doubt to be free of such a failings, but I take comfort that I have not resorted to gossiping rumors, at least not yet.

Back to the matter of our regicide game, Lorgar took it as an opportunity to speak with me, if not honestly very damn close to it. He started by asking my thoughts on the existence of sentient xeno life, and I suspect he was testing my loyalty to the Imperial Truth.

"They're aliens," I answered simply, "So long as they leave us in peace, I see no need to kill them, unless they've taken our people as slaves, and then they earn our wrath."

"You would allow them to live," he seemed amused, "To hide and gather strength to threaten us again?"

"I'm not foolish to let the Orks do as they please," I replied, "But surely there's the possibility that an undiscovered race would desire an alliance of mutual benefits. Eventually our forces will be spread out too thinly that we won't be able to afford making war against all xenos." His amusement became hollow in his eyes, and I could tell he was not pleased by the possibility I just gave voice to.

"The alien cannot be trusted," he recited our father's words, "For they will always seek to subjugate or destroy humanity in light of their own desires." I fought the urge to let out a lengthy sigh at his words. Not even Horus, the most familiar and dedicated to our Father's dream, held every single one of his decrees as the unshakable truth, and from rumors even desired a future alliance with the Craftworld Eldar. Given my own history, I have to admit I would side with Horus on that motion, there was much we could learn from other species in our galaxy, especially the Eldar, at least those who do not inflict suffering on others simply for fun.

"Yes those are the Emperor's words," I admitted, "And yet we are not charged with killing Xeno animals, otherwise many of the worlds we reclaimed would starve."

"Those beasts are subjugated to our will." Lorgar countered, refusing to concede the point. In truth I did not desire a philosophical debate upon the part in which Xeno cultures would play upon the Imperium's future, and so sought to change the subject.

"Regardless," I said, cutting off anything else Lorgar would say, "I don't believe this a passing curiosity, so please tell me what troubles you, brother." We continued our game, but no matter the moves Lorgar continued to find himself on the defensive, which seemed to bother him very little, yet I sensed that he felt accomplished in something else. He showed no visible surprise at my ability to see through his verbal ploy, instead his expression eluded that he was instead filled with satisfaction as if I had confirmed some suspicion he carried.

"Indeed, you are as observant as they say," he nodded, "They also say you are an unorthodox general in our Father's sacred conquest." I did not require him to elaborate much further on rumored "unorthodoxy" at the time I knew of at least twenty different imperial lords, no fewer than ten legiones commanders, and a handful of our own brothers who labeled me as such. This did not offend me, in truth it was the opposite, and I would be lying if I said at times I did not wear it like it was a badge of honor. While it's true that I worked tirelessly for unity within my own legion, that did not mean I believed each of the Imperium's military forces should be organized and behaved as mirror images.

"Does that trouble you?" I asked, letting a slight amused tone paint my words, "That somehow my individuality will lead to deviant developments?" He shook his head with a conviction that I nearly believed, had it not been for the gift illuminating me to the surface doubts that pestered his mind.

"No," he answered, "For truth to call into question your loyalty would be like questioning our Brother Leman's devotion to our Father." Even then I felt a sickening similarity between Lorgar and those corrupted, not in how they lusted for power, but the loyal devotion to something they thought greater than themselves. For whatever reason, I simply convinced myself that Lorgar had devoted himself wholeheartedly to the ideals of both the Great Crusade and Imperial Truth, and not the misguided worship of the Emperor as a deity.

"But there are certain whispers amongst the most loyal," he explained, "That too often you question our Father's decision, or less forthcoming in how you achieve your successes, and some say you consort with xenos." The rumors he spoke of were only partially true, I did often call to question some of the Emperor's decisions, such as the Emperor not reuniting Vulkan with his legion prior to the battle that saw the number of Terran born Dragon Warriors cut in half by the accursed greenskin horde, but that had been the first I heard of me consorting with xenos. I believe I know the source of such whispers, there were many times when my legion had been forced to wage war against Craftworld Eldar warriors, and a handful of those times I negotiated with their leaders for their surrender, with the promise that they would be allowed to gather their dead and leave unmolested by my forces. Such promises were not always well received by both my Astartes and human officers, and often many questioned how I could ever trust the words of Xeno enemies. The truth is that I only trust that the Craftworld warriors were as devoted to preserving the souls of their dead as deeply as their shamans, as from what I understand they have means of preventing the souls from crossing into the Warp.

I do not know the exact means they are able to do so, yet I respect the reason for such measures, as there is a dark lust in the Warp that hungers specifically for their souls, so strike me dead on the day I am inclined to help that lusting hunger. That did not mean I would allow them to freely make war upon the lost human tribes, nor spill human blood without consequences, so I fought them as I would any human society that violently resisted the coming of our Imperium, but I would also offer them mercy if it could be afforded. This behavior has no doubt led many to question not only my loyalties, but my methods for securing victory. I would not be surprised if many, including my own brothers, attempted to gain unrestricted access to the Bale Hounds' mission reports, and squinted in suspicion when they found redacted or blank reports. Of course they had no way of knowing that those redacted reports were from those clandestine missions approved by Malcador himself, and likely thought I was the malicious source of this lack of data, granted I never really did much to dissuade them of such notions. I am sworn to keep the truth silent towards those not sanctioned by the Sigillite, and I believe I have already expressed how difficult it was to make my warriors amongst the sanctioned. I sighed at Lorgar.

"Brother, I assure you," my weariness evident, "My dealings with aliens are very simple, either I wage war to defeat them, or offer them the chance to gather their dead, and I assure you that such offers are very selective." I stroked a braid that started as the left of my lip and dangled beneath my jawline, my eyes danced across the game board, conveying to Lorgar just how unworried I was by such rumors. I did not need to be looking at him to feel his unease at my words, I both felt it through the gift, and from the edge of my vision recognized Lorgar's body had tensed slightly.

"It seems that no matter how I wage war," I mused as I moved one of my pieces, "Someone will always have a complaint. I would heed that as a warning for yourself Lorgar." I could feel the shocked amusement that struck my brother, and knew he never expected me to utter such words. I stand by the advice I gave him, each Primarch had their own preferred methods of war, and rarely was it that we vocal honest praise for each other's favored tactics. It is my understanding that Rogal is one of the most open with his displeasure towards those of us who used less rigid tactics, especially Antron, Leman, Alpharius, and myself. While, Leman and Mortarion were the most vocal in their opposition in the usage or acceptance of combat psyckers, which has made myself and Magnus frequent targets of their scrutiny, whereas both myself and Vulkan have called into question the cold blooded severity of the punishments that both Angron, Perturabo, and Salazar use upon their astartes. All that before taking count of the thousands Imperial Army, Navy, and Mechanicum officials who had voiced their own doubts about the tactics we Primarchs used. Lorgar's command of his legion was still young, and I hoped to impress upon him that he should not try to please everyone with the tactics he chose, but I fear I failed to convey it properly to him.

"I am sure they are more worried for your wellbeing," Lorgar said, "None wish to see a blessed son of the Emperor brought low by Xeno trickery." While I have doubt Lorgar believed his own words, I fear he greatly overestimated how revered we were by the wider Imperium, true there are many who regard us in such similar reverence as the Emperor himself, but there were just as many, perhaps even more, of those who see us as arrogant children, too blinded by our own proclaimed importance to even consider we were wrong. I like to think that many within my legion's fleet and staff are in neither category, instead regarding me as the leader I was for my forces, but I suspect that there are a few amongst the rank and file who secretly hold one of the aforementioned beliefs. Something told me that Lorgar had little experience with those who did not hold Primarchs in the highest regard, and for the briefest moment I was reminded of an arrogant nobleman whose name I still cannot recall. The nobleman was a part of a small kingdom of five planets, his kingdom resisted the offer of cooperation and integration with the Imperium, even demanded that we surrender our resources as penance for the insult of our offer, but none were as arrogant as this nameless noble I had faced personally. I met him upon the battlefield, where he piloted an exo-suit that brought him up to my height, before the battle had began in earnest, demanded that I kneel before him, beg to become his slave, and he would grant my warriors merciful deaths. Words cannot express the delight I felt in watching his confidence turn into fear and sniveling after we crushed his forces.

Lorgar was by no means as empty headed as that nobleman, but I could not shake the feeling that a lack of challenges in my brother's life only poisoned him. Admittedly, a rather bold and terribly shortsighted assessment to make of a brother whose life I was not familiar with, and nor am I as informed of his upbringing as I would like, but then again, many of my brothers could say the same thing of me. At that moment, while capturing Lorgar's pieces on the board, I felt increasingly uncomfortable, but knew I could not truly drop the subject. So I opted to remind him of the Imperium's mission, along with the aspects of humanity I believed we each fought and died for.

"Maybe," I allowed, "But we are building an empire for humanity, flaws and all, it will take time for us to truly move past our instinctive base nature. With the Imperial Truth, we might have the best chance to guide humanity to its true potential, even if I don't always agree with our own methods, I believe in our goals. I want to see all of humanity's worlds under human leadership and wisdom, and for the Imperium to guide us away from those more archaic and harmful systems of beliefs." I had known that Colchis had been a literal breeding ground for religious beliefs, and was then still unsure if Lorgar had truly abandoned the ways of his world in exchange for the Emperor's vision, so I have no shame in admitting I was trying to goad a response out of him. I was confident he knew that I was insulting, or at most voicing my distaste, for religious systems, and the slight flicker in his eyes confirmed my beliefs. I did not recognize that flicker of emotion at the time, but now I suspect it was a sorrow filled disappointment.

"I see, brother," he nodded, "I am relieved to hear your dedication to our Father's glorious vision. I hope that we will compliment each other's efforts in the coming wars." By that point I had cornered his monarch pieces, forcing him to admit defeat in our game, yet I felt that he was certain that he had won. At the time, I simply thought he believed himself a more pure and loyal son to the Emperor, it is only now with the knowledge of the death of Lorgar's Perfect City, that I now suspect something more worrisome. Roboute had told me of our brother's words laced with lament and confusion during his punishment. I will summarize them briefly within this record, as I am not so cold hearted towards Lorgar to immortalize his weakest moment. In short, Lorgar believed that he, and he alone, had passed a test of faith in keeping his belief that the Emperor was a God, and that the Imperial Truth was nothing more than a test for humanity to endure. With this knowledge in mind, I can now say with greater confidence, that Lorgar felt superior not because he saw himself more loyal to the Emperor's ideals, no, he felt assured of his own brilliance for being the only of our brothers to believe our Father a God. Knowing this now, some part of me wished that either I had spent a greater time with Lorgar to dissuade this notion, or that Malcador had sanctioned Lorgar to know of the true nature of the darkness dwelling within the Warp, and joined me in purging their cancerous influence on our reality. Even now that emotional response surprises me, for Lorgar is not amongst those I feel the closest kinship with, but I could not shake that I could have helped prevent the Death of Lorgar's Perfect City.

Sometime later, I stood aboard the Fidelitas Lex, the Word Bearer's legion flagship, standing alongside Lorgar and his sons, with my own escort warriors. We had gathered in one of the vessel's diplomatic hangar bays, and waited before a small personnel transport that in some aspects resembled a horned beetle. Exiting from its boarding ramp was a party of ten dark robed humans, a few grafted with augmentics, while those positioned on the edges of the group were armed with arc powered rifles. These weapons, while nowhere near as easy to craft as Bolters, were just as capable of punching through ceramite armor, albeit their rate of fire was greatly reduced. This meant that those armed were not common soldiers, rather they were likely marksmen with staggering accuracy. These newcomers were the representatives from the Cold Steel Cabal, an underground organization based within the Crelolian Theocracy, the cross species kingdom Lorgar and I had been charged with defeating.

It may surprise many to learn that often we would deal with established criminal organizations nestled within resistant societies, indeed it is not the most glorious or honor tactic at our disposal, but it is at times necessary. I suspect there are a number of my brothers that would fully refuse this method, stating that to lower themselves and their legion to work alongside such dishonest souls was in violation of the Imperium's goals. Ironic that there are four Primarchs that could technically be considered as criminals by their planet's original governing bodies, and yet we have labeled them noble heroes, revolutionaries, or conquerors. Understand that I do not hold contempt towards these brothers, nor do I disagree that often these organizations were filled with dishonest souls, but I saw their uses. Criminals have a greater, or more unique, understanding of their society's culture and governing that outshined the intelligence typically gathered by Malcador's agents. Not to mention, those labeled as criminals in tyrannically governed societies, especially those under alien tyrants, were more often aligned with our line of thought than most, and could in some capacity be entrusted with aspects of the transition to Imperial law. Yet I will be the first to admit they could never be trusted fully, at least not initially, even if they had been forced to commit crimes, only a fool does not question if a raider can be truly trustworthy, but they can prove themselves worthy.

In truth, we have still yet to determine if the Cold Steel Cabal are worthy of the Imperium's trust, but thanks to their aid we broke Theocracy far quicker than we would have alone. Lorgar and his Word Bearers would also have never been given the identities of those human community leaders who would be sympathetic to our cause, and join us in overthrowing their alien overlords. Not to mention, we Bale Hounds would have had a greater difficulty in identifying the panic shelters for the theocracy elites and military commanders, allowing us to remove their highest authority figures so swiftly. Yet before that, the Cabal wanted to negotiate compensation for not only their information, but to fully commit themselves to full blown treason. It was Lorgar who suggested we stand together and present a united front, to further illustrate the greatness of the Imperium that they would join, one way or another. He also suggested that we only have two armed Astartes from our respective legion, to further illustrate the Imperium's might, and I cannot deny I saw the merit in his words.

The lead negotiator from the Cabal was a woman who was unusually tall for a human, indeed she was practically as tall as Alpharius, her skin was pale and decorated with the blue of her blood vessels. Her eyes had been replaced by black rimmed, green glass cybernetic eyes, an oxygen rebreather had been surgically attached over her mouth and nose, and there was not a single hair on her body. Her name was Nyl'em, she was a valued elder of the Cabal's leaders, and despite her death-like appearance, her soul felt powerful and resilient. Later, I would come to learn the augmentations were out of necessity, as she had been born with a less favorable constitution, her parents could not afford the miracle healing of the theocracy. So from a young age she placed herself in the employment of the Cabal, at first running simple scams, petty crimes, information gathering, and earning the black market augmentics that would save her life. Her story was not unique amongst the Cabal, many joined to survive or provide a better life for their families, but she was at least two centuries old. The miracle born of the combination of advanced human technology and innovative genetic manipulations.

"Welcome Lady Nyl'em," Lorgar greeted humbly, "You honor us with your presence." He gave a simple but respectful bow, and I offered a similar gesture to her. Regardless of the core of their character, I decided that I liked the members of Cabal, for they were one of the few people to not be overwhelmed as others were by their first sight of a Primarch. I could read that many of them were in awe of us, but they had the will to resist that unexplainable urge others felt to kneel in our presence. How I wish there were more of their kind in the galaxy.

"The Cold Steel Cabal is eager for this offered partnership," she answered in a digital yet feminine voice, "Long has our people wished to overthrow the oppression of the arrogant Crelolians, in a more open manner." Despite her unmistakable artificial voice, I swore I heard an honest eagerness to bring down her people's alien overlords, and I fought the urge to smile. I could sense a notion of disgust in Lorgar's men, and I suspect it was because in their eyes Nyl'em had not shown their Lord the respect they expected. While my brother seemed to have happily ignored that detail and instead chose to focus on the olive branch woven into her words.

"It is the will of the Emperor of Mankind," Lorgar began, "That we provide such an opportunity to you. Please if you will follow us, we can begin discussions of your group's additional compensation for its support." The promise of payment always seems to be a great motivator for those of more "advanced" societies, and while I am not blind to such things, material wealth has never been a value I prioritized. In truth I suspect only a select few of my brothers would understand or share this belief of mine, but that mattered little in regards to the Cabal. It would have been foolish to even entertain the idea that offered us aid purely out of altruism, they had not survived the theocracy's scrutiny these centuries with developing a reliable sense for survival, and allying with us granted them greater odds of their continued survival. Malcador had authorized Lorgar to offer them anything short of planetary governance, and it would be a lie if I said I wanted to commit the exact details of that negotiation to memory. However, I must commend Lorgar's mastery of diplomacy, truly in negotiations are one of his preferred elements, swaying the Cabal's representatives with nothing but his words. Such a feat can be rarely claimed by our other brothers, even then they lacked the infectious passion of Lorgar's charisma, I could tell some of the marksmen had been swayed fully by his words and some longed to cast off their loyalty to the Cabal to follow Lorgar. Thankfully, none did so, at least not at our meeting. In the end, Lorgar had secured not only the Cabal's intelligence, but also the support of their more militant elements, all in exchange for exclusive rights for the Cabal to control the planet's important and export dock yards. Believe me, such a right would be honored by the Imperium officials, at least until they had a cause to retract their support for the Cabal's sovereignty over the docks, and to this day the Cabal has yet to give them one.

"What of him?" Nyl'em asked, gesturing towards me, "I understand why you are here, Lord Aurelian, but I fail to see why your brother has joined us." Her question was not unwarranted, after all I had mostly stayed silent during the negotiation, and only spoke questions about the alien military capabilities. The Word Bearers had both the numbers and resources to see this operation performed with assured success, so she likely saw the presence of my forces as overkill.

"M'Lady, I believe Arwyn can speak for himself." Lorgar nodded respectfully, and silently handed over the proverbial center stage to me. I took a brief moment before speaking, my eyes scanning over Nyl'em's retinue, and noting how they tensed slightly at the usage of my name. An odd response that doubtlessly would warrant further exploration, but that was a matter for later.

"This war must be won on two fronts, Ma'am," I said, my accent thick yet clear, "The human subjects of the Theocracy must be reminded of humanity's greatness, hence Lorgar's heralds assignment of rallying the people. While the Word Bearers make their efforts to sway your people's hearts, the Bale Hounds will strike down authority figures, before they can mobilize a military response to our presence." I pulled up a holo display of the main seat of the Theocracy's governing power, Crelolia Prime, using one of the interfaces, I deftly inputted the intel she provided us, and twelve points of interest became illuminated in red on the planet's surface. There was one area highlighted in a flickering yellow, this represented the Crelolians Grand Cathedral Palace, and easily the most heavily fortified and secured structure on Crelolia Prime. The other twelve represented the approximate location of the influential vital commanders favored by the Theocracy, and as previously stated the Cabal provided accurate assessments of their defensive capabilities. Then I threw up a naval station, referred to as the Void's Sacred Heart, and its form was outlined in red.

"These fourteen targets," I began again, "Represent priority candidates for elimination. My legion will first destroy the Void's Sacred Heart, preventing cohesion amongst their void fleets. Then my forces will go after the twelve lords favored by the theocracy living on Crelolia Prime, kill them then refocus our efforts on the Grand Cathedral Palace. The deaths of the revered and supposedly blessed twelve lords, will almost completely destroy their military's morale, while also giving more credibility to Lorgar and the Word Bearers." I let my words sink into those gathered around us. I felt echoes of surprise from Lorgar and his sons, most likely from how quickly I devised this battle of attack without overreaching my authority to their own forces, and I could only guess as to what Nyl'em's retinue thought of it. In truth there was nothing particularly awe inspiring about my plan, I suspect many of the other Primarchs would reach a similar conclusion as mine, but they would have likely already listed detailed battle plans.

Such preparation was not within my character, as I have stated before, creating too detailed a strategy led to folly, and I would ultimately trust in my warriors with their own methods of victory wherever I was not fighting. Not to mention their crown world was the heavily defended planet in the theocracy's sphere of influence, and while the Word Bearers excel at combat as all Astartes do, they did not have the experience in breaking such well defended foes as the Bale Hounds did. This does not make us superior to the XVIIth legion, it simply highlights our Legion's strengths and I still stand by this ideology. While the Word Bearers focused on the surrounding territories, the Bale Hounds would attack the enemy's heart and cause considerable damage, and then await reinforcements for an overwhelming decisive victory.

"The Imperium wishes to do more than simply crush its opposition," I added, "We wish to inspire loyalty and awe in those that will become Imperial citizens. Lorgar and myself fail to imagine anything more inspiring for impoverished humans being reminded of our species' greatness not only through words, but through action. If all goes well, then your Cabal will not be the only locals who will commit aid to our cause." Nyl'em's cheeks began to raise, pressing tightly against her cybernetic eye lenses, and released a noise that sounded like something pounding against a hollow pipe. It took me a moment to realize she was chuckling, and it was not a pleasant sound, not even her retinue was immune to the discomfort that followed her chuckling.

"Impressive," she praised, "You are both quite bold and daring! You would have made ideal leaders within the Cabal." Lorgar seemed unsure of how to react to such a compliment, as he likely found the idea of being a gangster a far cry from his divine destiny, but he did not wish to be rude to the Cabal's representative. I simply gave a slight bow, a quick closing of my eyes, before returning my focus upon her face, and directing his gaze into her eyes.

"That's very kind of you to say," I humbly said, "But I fear we're more suited for battle than the more subtle methods such as yours." It was not a lie, not entirely and that was in no small part that neither myself or Lorgar had any desire to be a part of a criminal syndicate. The gratitude was genuine though, I had no illusions that Nyl'em was one to resort to pointless flattery, she was also all too aware of how difficult and dangerous the life in the Cabal was. I suspected Horus would have enjoyed her company, if for not for reminding him of his youth as Cthonian gangster, then a dry wit similar to that I had noticed amongst the Cthonian Lunar Wolves. Even so, I did not entirely trust her, except to commit her syndicate's forces to helping us in overthrowing the Crelolians, and to not fire upon us during the war, after that it was anyone's guess.

For the most part, the war went as well as could be expected, while the Word Bearers' fleet translated into the surrounding territory of Crelolia Prime, my fleet unleashed Imperial fury upon the Void's Sacred Heart, and completely decimating those stationed naval assets. I am currently unsure of the Crelolian's experience with psychic powers, but clearly precognition was not an art they practiced, and by the time they detected the fleet's energy signature, it was too late. The fleet's tech-marines and representatives of the Cult Mechanicum had created a powerful jamming signal that crippled the station's ability to communicate across the void, making it easier to destroy the station. We did not allow any vessels to escape nor any life pods to survive for long, and I ordered the destruction of the station's fusion core once all enemy lifesigns had been eliminated. Perhaps such an action was unnecessary, but I felt that both the symbolism and sight of the explosion would be registered by all in the system, and I wanted the scum of Crelolia Prime to panic. They did of course, a later investigative review of the planet's local communications revealed no shortage of panicked broadcasts crying that the unthinkable had happened, the Void's Sacred Heart had been destroyed.

The Crelolian were a strange bipedal race, with velvet colored yet plate-like skin, jet black eyes, claws, and taloned feet. They were worshiped for their unrivaled healing abilities, both through the use of technology and mysticism, most likely a psychic discipline, and had taken many different lesser xeno species under their control. Even with full access to their historic archives, the Librarians are still unsure of when exactly they became a theocratic state, or when the Crelolians became the center of that worship, but their low fertility and naturally extensive lifespans most likely played a large factor into that development. As warriors, what handful of Crelolians that did dedicate themselves to warfare, I feel no shame in admitting they were a step ahead of the physical capabilities of a standard Legiones Astartes warrior, yet the true strength of our legions are our cooperative combat maneuvers. In terms of their level of technology, it is a fair assumption to say that they were at a level comparable to humanity before the tragedy of Old Night, and their weaponry rarely had any sharp angels. Due to their inherit superior societal position than the other species within the theocracy, all of the twelve favored lords were drawn from the "lesser" races, and its lower class consisted mostly of humans. With the "superiority" of the Crelolians, it was rare for any of their limited warriors to be deployed outside the crown world's defense, and each was at minimum the rank of a military captain. A shame that despite all their advancements, they offered a minimal challenge for my Astartes. Within fourteen hours after landing planet side, we had already eliminated the twelve favored lords, no fewer than sixteen Crelolian warriors, and a sea of xeno foot soldiers.

I would be lying if I said I felt nothing walking amongst the enemy dead, but my disgust was not caused by the countless species of xenos under the Crelolians' thumb, rather how they cowardly surrendered themselves to serve the Crelolians. Granted, I am sure that had they not we would have likely had to face them in war eventually, but it disgusted me that an entire species would willingly subject themselves to the will of another that did not truly care for their wellbeing. If you are wondering how I came to such a conclusion, it is because the Crelolian warriors only took to the battlefield when we had drastically reduced their cannon fodder, or whenever we presented a false opening in our defenses. One had failed to successfully ambush me, resulting in us engaging in melee combat, and I sensed no anger or hatred towards me for killing those he commanded, instead I felt his anger at me for exposing the theocracy's weakness. For some reason, that was a hard truth to swallow for me, perhaps because I had always presumed that those who took the burden of leadership at least on some level gave a damn about those they commanded. I had no doubt that on some level the Emperor truly does care for human lives, but I would be foolish if I did not admit that if he had to he would act in favor of the species as a whole instead of a comparably smaller group. Perhaps the Crelolians were truly a perfect example of the nightmarish xenos that my Father proclaims are selfish threats to the galaxy, or at the very least simply a self absorbed and arrogant species that elevated themselves far above others. While I do not entirely agreed with the Imperium's call for the genocide of all xeno species, I do take a small measure of solace that most aliens we faced are simply killed, not enslaved as those under the Crelolians are. I also doubt that many of my brother would share my sentiments, especially when my own legion uses convicted and dangerous criminals slave labor within our fleet, and made more complacent with the use of narcotics. If it is any consultation, I was never thrilled with the usage of slaves as I had been back on Arcadia, yet as the Great Crusade continued we learned that we could not afford to keep the most black hearted criminals behind bars, and so in an effort to spare the lives of my mortal legion staff I reluctantly accepted the enslaved criminal workers.

Despite all this, after realizing that one of the "lesser" xeno soldiers was a youth, I was outraged and relieved. Outraged that the Creloians dared to force even the young of their thralls to serve as little more than living shields, and relieved that I felt such anger in response to such unwarranted cruelty. I like to tell myself that this outrage will make me ensure that no child will ever be forced to serve my legion in so similar a fashion, but with the Imperium's borders constantly expanding, I am becoming all the more aware of how much more difficult it will become to keep track of every practice occurring within my legion's forces. I hope that the spirits blessed my luck, and side with my wishes. Then, four weeks after our initial landing assault, my astartes had initiated the siege of the Grand Cathedral Palace, which was even more formidable in person. It is safe to say that the ostentatiousness of the Mechanicum and Imperium combined, pales in comparison to that of the Celolians, as not a single inch of the exterior defenses failed to somehow blend perfectly with the strange architecture of the Cathedral, and there were no shortage of symbols that signified their believed superiority. Yet in spite of our superior numbers, they were more than capable of reducing our advancement into the Palace to a snail's pace, and no matter what we could not find any overlooked flaws that would allow us to expedite our progress. So we were forced to maintain a steady pace while we awaited reinforcements from the Word Bearers, and according to the official record we waged the siege without pause or interference from any Xeno force, forgive me for this was a lie.

Roughly four days into the siege, while holding council with those legion captains who fought alongside me, we received unexpected guests. Before I proceed I must urge you to keep in mind all I have stated about the Eldar, my thoughts specifically on the Craftworlders, understand that I not only owed a debt to one, but had come to regard her with respect. As if materializing from thin air, Ilradona entered our command tent, and my sons wasted no time in training their weapons on the sudden intruder, luckily I registered presence before they could further react.

"Hold fire!" I commanded letting the gift bleed into my words, in truth I had only recognized her by the feeling of her soul. The souls of all Eldars, even the thrice damned Drukhari, are by far the most complex souls I have ever felt, and without a doubt the most difficult to explain. Like human souls, the Eldar's are shaped largely by emotion, it may surprise you to know that, at least with the Craftworlders, our species experience many similar emotions, yet there emotions are far more intense than a humans, their souls also reflected aspects of not only their experiences, but physicality, their every thought, hopes, desires, and fears. That is the closest I can confidently describe what Eldar souls feel like, yet I am sure many of them would scoff and call it a clumsy explanation. Some part of me wishes I could have met the best of the Eldar before their collapse, it would be interesting to compare how freely they embraced their emotions compared to the well disciplined lives found on Craftworlds.

"Would you please show us your face?" I asked her once I was certain that my warriors would not fall slave their ingrained instincts, and for the first time noticed how she had changed since we had last met. She had been a scout commander back then, outfitted with a mesh suit with carapace plating and a camouflage cloak, armed with a long barreled weapon, and short sword, but did not obscure her face. Her skin was pale, much like Morrigan's skin had been, yet her hair was the crimson hue of a setting sun, it had been braided behind her head into a warrior tail, and she was easily a few inches taller than an average Astartes. Now, she wore a different garb, a cloak of rich purple, accented by patterns of light blues and greens, over which she wore golden runic armor that its own psychic echo, an earthy green mantle with a brown furs around the collar, and reflective black faceplate framed by bone white helmet. At her hip was an Eldar pistol, and a witchblade that had to have been freshly made, an impressive change from her previous arsenal. I could also feel that unlike our previous meeting, she was not suppressing her psychic capabilities, at that time I did not possess a detailed understanding of Craftworld culture, but if I had then I would have recognized this as an honored promotion for her.

Ilradona obliged my request, removing her helmet with a light hiss of air, and I was impressed as I watched her braided hair spill out of confinement. Through the gift, I felt that many of my warriors were uncomfortable by her inhuman beauty, not that I could blame as the impossible grace of the Eldar was an unsettling thing to behold. Her eyes were heterochromatic, one a deep jade with a sun yellow at the center, the other was a vibrant sapphire with purple haloing her pupil, and she locked her eyes to mine. She did not seem to register, or rather care about, the threat my Astartes' weapons presented, instead she seemed more concerned about something else but I had a feeling that her concern somehow involved me. I offered her a gesture of sincere thanks, to which she nodded before speaking up.

"It has been a long time," she began in heavily accented gothic, "Since last we met Honest Shaman of War." That had been the title Ilradona and her fellow scouts had given me all those years ago when we were forced to work together, and I still could not tell you if it was an insult or praise. Despite that, I smiled slightly, and enjoyed the nostalgic wave that came from her words.

"Feels as if that was a lifetime ago," I admitted honestly, "And clearly much has changed for both of us." She nodded, and I felt that she also felt a trace of nostalgia, but did let it spill onto her features, instead she maintained an air of authority I had not seen in her before.

"I pray that not too much has changed," she replied, "That you are still the rare few of your people that mine would call honorable." I could tell that a few of my Bale Hounds felt as if she had insulted me, she had not, but I doubt any Space Marine enjoyed an Eldar questioning the honor of a human, even a posthuman as myself. However, I saw the unspoken meaning in her words, there was only one reason an Eldar, even one whom I considered an ally, would remind me of honor.

"You're going to ask me for something? Aren't you?" There was no frustration nor displeasure in my words, to me it was just a simple question, and I hoped I would get a simple answer. Thankfully, she nodded in confirmation.

"I assure you it will not inconvenience you," she promised, in a neutral yet honest tone, "If all goes as desired, your empire will never know of our presence here." I raised a brow at that, the implication that she was not alone on Crelolia Prime, and that her forces saw fit to negotiate with us instead of simply doing as they pleased. It shames me to admit that such a courtesy would rarely, if ever, be extended to the Craftworld Eldar. While I had no doubt that Ilradona only made such an offer to benefit her people, it felt wrong that the Imperium refused such action even out of purely selfish gain. That thought made me look at the gathered captains and paragons around me, all their weapons still trained onto her for kill shots, and suddenly I felt a sense of shame.

"All except for Paragons, Slan and Issacs," I said with calm authority, "Leave and attend to your duties. I wish to speak with the Eldar in private." I could tell that all gathered wished to protest, not wishing to leave me alone with a potential dangerous intruder, but they relented due to both Tiberius and Selwyn's continued presence beside me. Both of them were considered amongst the greatest of my warriors, and respected in some form by all their brothers. Selwyn had been building his own legend amongst the brothers beyond his own War Host, securing victories against terrible odds with minimal casualties, and had recently earned himself the rank of Paragon after the death of the previous commander, Cadhan. Later, I will speak of Cadhan's last stand against an Ork warlord, but I believe that tale must wait for now.

Tiberius Slan stood beside me clad in his personalized cataphractii terminator armor, a miniaturize shoulder mounted auto-cannon, a combi-volkite bolter mag locked to his leg, sheathed master-crafted power sword, Arcadian knots etched onto plates, and runes detonating honor from each of the Legion's recruitment worlds. Selwyn Issacs stood in freshly made Mark IV Maximus patterned armor, his war plate etched with multiple Arcadian markings of honor and victory, wearing his clan's colors as a combat skirt, his breastplate bore triskele, the Arcadian symbol denoting the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, and clutched in one hand was a modified Guardian Spear, which he called the Thirsting Spear. It may strike many as odd that Selwyn was allowed to carry such a weapon, but according to reports it had been bestowed upon Selwyn by a Custodian whose life had been saved by Selwyn's efforts. While such occurrences are a true rarity, it was not unheard of for a select few of the Legiones Custodes to favor worthy warriors from the ranks of the Space Marine legions. Both Paragons knew my history with greater familiarity than any other Astartes with the Bale Hounds, and could be trusted to behave civilly in Ilradona's presence, despite how much they likely wished not to. Such loyalty humbles me.

"I believe we can speak more freely," I said a minute after the last of Astartes exited the command tent, before speaking in Eldar, "Old friend." I imagine that had I spoken to any other Eldar, they would have been disgusted with barely passing grasp of their spoken language, but Ilradona only grinned in amusement.

"I see you've improved somewhat," she mused, "You speak more like a child than an infant now." I smiled at the jest, but a thunderous boom of artillery reminded me of our present situation. To her credit, Ilradona picked up on the change in my demeanor, and cleared her throat.

"There is a soul with this Cathedral," she explained grimly, "One this world's elite. I cannot give you their name, but they have stolen something that belongs to my people."

"You want us to retrieve it for you?" She shook her head.

"No, Arwyn of the Clays," she answered, "We want you to pull back your forces from a certain area of engagement, and allow us to retrieve it ourselves." She slowly moved one of her hands up to her head, a silent request to converse through silent speech, a request I granted with a nod, that I made sure my Paragons saw. She placed two fingers to her temple before closing her eyes, an overly dramatic display that I suspected was only for the benefit of my sons.

Soon, I felt the gentle prodding of her psychic force, patiently awaiting entry to my mind, and I lowered my wards to let her in. I am certain many would call me foolish for opening my mind to an Eldar psycker, but you must remember that I had no reason to mistrust her, and still have yet to find one. As she entered my mind, I saw a Crelolian warrior, a male if I was not mistaken, he carried Eldar weapons as trophies, but that was not why the alien had to die. No, he had stolen something much more sacred than weaponry, and there was blood on the Crelolian's hands, Eldar blood, the volume of life reaped at its hands was almost hard to believe, but the Craftworlds demanded justice. Images then flashed before me, more familiar yet far hazier, as if they were second hand knowledge. I recognize them as the interior chambers of the Grand Cathedral Palace, one area I realized was the most resilient chamber of resistance, and recalled that we had already lost ten squads to either injury or death at that chamber. Finally, she showed me the warriors that followed her in this quest for righteous retribution, many wore armor that resemble the old scorpions of Terra, others wore white armor with screaming-like helmets, and the rest wore typical Eldar armor. The forces she journeyed alongside easily rivaled the numbers of two of my War Hosts, and it then dawned on me just how truly desperate they were to get to their target.

I opened my eyes as soon as I felt her touch leave my mind, and began restoring my mental wards. The tent's interior had not changed, yet it took me a second to steady my perceptions after such an intense psychic communion, but signaled to my sons that I was unharmed. My mind began fully digesting what had been shown, and weighing the pros and cons in granting the Eldars' request. On the negative, we would lose an avenue of swift access to the Palace's sanctuary, we would be unable to know for sure if all defenders were slain, lastly I would have to lie to warriors already fighting to claim those chambers and surrender ground they had fought desperately to claim. Yet on the positive side, it would save us a horde of ammunition, allow us focus our efforts in breaking defenses elsewhere, cause a sudden spike of confusion in the enemy ranks, and it prevented us from having to face both the theocracy and over two thousand Eldar warriors. Lion El'Jonson and Leman Russ would have refused the request, hell I would be shocked if they would have even considered listening to it, Horus would have likely consulted his Mournival if he should agree to the request. I am not like my brothers.

"I will order the withdrawal of my Astartes from that sector," I said, my throat oddly dry, "With some conditions, you must provide some signal that your people have withdrawn, whether in triumph or defeat, and that you leave this world once you have what you came for." All in all a fairly reasonable pair of conditions, and far more generous than even the most open minded Imperial commander would offer. She was silent for a moment, likely communicating with her allies through silent speech, meanwhile I silently requested Slan's aid in forging a tactical reason for the withdrawal.

"The Craftworlds agree to your terms, Arwyn of the Clays," she finally said, "I will leave to join my people in our quest, but I fear I must give you a warning." That surprised, whatever the warning was, it was a separate matter from the Craftworlds' call for justice, and I felt tones of concern in her soul. I signaled for Slan to begin the order for the withdrawal, before returning my gaze to Ilradona. I have stated numerous times that I do not fully trust in prophecy, yet I recognized how rare it was for an Eldar to warn one outside their race, so I could not rightly dismiss the warning, it would be insulting to her.

"Very well, Ilradona," I nodded, "Speak your warning."

"Be cautious of the one adorned in scarlet," she recited, "For they will sow cancers in revenge against your kind, and will trade away everything to the darkness we fight." She disappeared shortly after reciting the warning, allowing me to uphold my end of the bargain, pulling my forces away from the agreed upon sector, and a day later a psychic message signaled to me the victorious withdrawal of the Eldar. I joined those sent back to the sector, and was impressed to find no obvious evidence of the Eldars' presence in the battle, along with many of our dead excavated from the rubble. Perhaps the idea of karma is shared amongst the Craftworld Eldar. Despite the new boon provided by the collapse of an aggressively resilient defense, the Palace's defenders continued to fight with effective, yet desperate, fever delaying us further until the Word Bearers joined us towards the end of the third week. I would have been more grateful to Lorgar and his sons, had I not noticed the fresh tabards, power armor, and polished weapons his legion carried into battle. While I understand and even encourage the repair and upkeep of wargear, I found it incredibly pious that Lorgar and his legion had wasted resources on replacement parts, and parade ready weapons. I had no doubt that the Word Bearers had faced their own deal of opposition, but by the spirits, I doubted that they had suffered so greatly to warrant the production of fresh wargear, never mind the shiny new bolters. After our victory, I asked Lorgar why he had commissioned fresh wargear for that stage of the war, and his answer only irritated me.

"Was not one of our goals to inspire these liberated humans?" He asked with a smile, "True, your Bale Hounds' resilience and fury inspired those who had nearly given fully to despair, but you must admit yours are hardly the traditional warriors of our Father's Angels of Death. I believed that watching your legion being reinforced by shining champions of the Imperium, who further ensured the killing blow, would fully sway the hearts of these people." Admittedly, there was some merit to his words, but that did not change the fact that my sons bled and died while the Word Bearers waited on fresh wargear. That left behind a bitter taste with me, and while I could understand, even forgive, the glory seeking of Leman, the Lion, and Fulgrim, I struggle to accept Lorgar was more concerned with the symbolism of his every action than human lives. Yet another reminder that we are each so vastly different from one another, with our own values and philosophies.