A Tour in the Imperial Palace
The Lion's Gate was an enormous portal that connected the Outer and Inner Palaces. It overlooked the fields of the Indian sub-continent's Brahmaputra Plateau. A portion of the space it enclosed also served the massive spaceport that shared its name, servicing the needs of the Imperial Palace. It was an architectural magnificence, a massive gate topped with two gilded beasts rising up to lock claws in a feral dispute, a sculpture that had given the gate its name.
Hayreddin gazed at the structure, pure amazement on his face. The most opulent structure he had ever laid eyes upon was the mastaba he had built to entomb his loved ones, but the Lion's Gate dwarfed that both in size and grandeur. It was, for all intents and purposes, merely an entrance and exit between the Outer and Inner Palaces, yet its scale and artistry surpassed quite possibly every city on Baybar.
And this was just one part of the Imperial Palace.
"I have never imagined that such a thing could be build by Man," said Hayreddin softly. His voice was drowned out, but Thorondor heard him clearly.
"That's but a small part of what our species is capable of," said the Storm Lord. They were waiting on one of the upper platforms of the Lion's Gate spaceport. Below, the countless ships and denizens of the Imperial Palace bustled about their duties. The spaceport was massive to accommodate such great traffic, yet the Lion's Gate for which it was named nearly dwarfed it.
The scale of it all was hard to take in.
Hayreddin turned to Thorondor. "Should we not be on our way?"
Thorondor nodded. "We're waiting for the shuttle."
"Shuttle?" Hayreddin frowned.
"Yes, shuttle. The section of the Imperial Palace we are going to would take days on foot. So we are flying in."
Hayreddin's eyes widened. "Thorondor, just how big is this place?"
Thorondor smiled. "You'll see soon enough."
The Storm Lord pointed. Hayreddin turned to see a shuttle, blazing golden like the Sun, fast approaching. Upon landing, six warriors disembarked in perfect formation. Hayreddin can now recognise power armour, but the ones worn by the new warriors were far more elaborate than the ones he had seen worn by the Astartes, more like works of art rather than suits of war. They carried with them the most elaborately crafted spears he had ever seen. And while they were clearly posthuman, Hayreddin sensed that there was something more to them.
"Custodes," Thorondor confirmed for him. "Father's praetorians."
One of the Custodes approached. Hayreddin noted that unlike the others, his helm was dented on one side. He also noticed that though the Custodes was walking with fluid, almost machine-like precision, there was a very subtle tension in him. Hayreddin also noted that Thorondor's smile had morphed into a very subtle sneer.
"Lord Thorondor," greeted the Custodes, bowing his head slightly.
"Aten," returned Thorondor. "Still haven't got that helmet fixed?"
"No," replied the Custodes Aten. "A permanent reminder of our first…encounter."
Thorondor's chuckle was cold, and it chilled Hayreddin to hear it. "I hope you haven't been raising your weapon against frail, old women."
Though his face was hidden by his helm, Hayreddin can still hear the venom subtly dripping in the Custodes' answer. "If it serves the Emperor, I will."
A menacing aura emanated from Thorondor, and for a moment, Hayreddin was certain his brother would strike the Custodes. Instead, Thorondor shrugged and gestured towards Hayreddin.
"This the Eleventh Primarch, he will need the necessary clearance once the Emperor confirms it."
"Of course," said Aten, turning towards Hayreddin and bowed his head briefly. "If you will come aboard with us, Lord…?"
"Hayreddin," Hayreddin bowed his head in return. He paused when he saw the Vukona and the others made no move to follow. "My men…?"
"…will be attended to," finished Aten. "Your presence in the Inner Palace is the higher priority."
Thorondor gestured Hayreddin to follow him. Aten stepped aside to allow the Primarchs to pass before he and his fellows fell into perfect lockstep behind.
Hayreddin spent the whole ride on the shuttle looking out the viewport. The description 'palace', he felt, was a severe understatement. The Imperial Palace was more like a city. Upon passing the Lion's Gate and Eternity Gate, what Hayreddin could see confirmed that the Inner Palace alone was larger than the greatest city on Baybar.
"Did you have any cities like this on Tempestas?" he asked Thorondor, who sat silently at his side.
Thorondor shook his head. "We don't have landmasses large enough to hold cities. Our residences were built into the few sea mountains tall enough to rise above the surface. Many extend below into the deeps."
"Similar to hive cities?" asked Hayreddin, pulling the term he learned from Thorondor effortlessly.
"Similar, yes," affirmed Thorondor. "But our population is far lower, so it's not as crowded."
As the journey continued, Thorondor pointed out the various landmarks in the Inner Palace. The Tower of Heroes, as black as the void of space, towered above the countless spires of gilded gold. According to Thorondor, it housed the titanic Bell of Lost Souls, which tolled only when the greatest heroes of the Imperium have fallen. The Tower of Hegemon, where the Custodes kept their vigil. So many sites and monuments bombarded the eye that even Hayreddin had trouble keeping track of it all.
"When is the Emperor due?" Thorondor's question took Hayreddin's attention.
"A solar week," replied Aten, who had not removed his dented helmet. "You arrived ahead of schedule."
"So what's the arrangement until then? We cannot get clearance for Hayreddin until the Emperor arrives," asked Thorondor.
Aten shifted. "The Captain-General has granted temporary clearance within the residential zones of the Inner Palace, provided that Lord Hayreddin is accompanied." Something in Aten's body language suggested that he was not pleased.
"Very gracious of Valdor," said Thorondor, his smile widening.
"I should also inform you that some of the other Primarchs are here," said Aten.
"Truly? Who?" asked Thorondor. "I thought only Magnus was here."
"That is true. But lords Ferrus, Fulgrim, Lorgar and Sanguinius have also arrived for an audience with the Emperor," said Aten.
Thorondor turned to Hayreddin, smiling. "Looks like you'll get to meet some of them sooner."
Hayreddin nodded, smiling a little. "I look forward to it.
II XI II XI
The interior of the Imperial Palace was just as magnificent as the exterior. Every inch looked to have been lovingly crafted by master artisans, and a glow seemed to radiate from within the walls themselves. Even the utilitarian shuttle port looked like a work of art, with statues of mythical figures and heroes in ages long-forgotten starring down at the new arrivals.
Aten had taken his leave and left the task of chaperoning Hayreddin to Thorondor, on the directive from the mysterious Constantin Valdor. Hayreddin had the impression that Aten would not have done so, otherwise.
"So what's the story with you and Aten?" asked Hayreddin as he followed Thorondor down an ornate corridor. Thorondor didn't turn around, but his chuckles echoed down the corridor to Hayreddin's ears.
"Noticed that, did you?" was Thorondor's answer.
"I thought you two were going to fight each other," said Hayreddin.
"Aten and I first met on Tempestas," said Thorondor. "He was one of the Custodes standing guard to prevent the crowd from coming too close during my departure. He tried to stop my mother from coming to see me off."
"I see," said Hayreddin, putting two and two together, realising where the dent in Aten's helm had come from. "So you…?"
"I did," confirmed Thorondor. "Aten hasn't been terribly fond of me since then. Not that the Custodes are ever particularly fond of anyone to begin with."
"What are they, though?" asked Hayreddin, thinking back to what he had seen of them. They had been very similar to Astartes, but there was something he sensed in them. Something that set them apart. Hayreddin had become aware that Astartes are far removed from humans, but the Custodes seemed even more so. He couldn't quite put it into words. "They seem so different from the Astartes."
"That's because they are," affirmed Thorondor. "The Custodes have served father for far longer than anyone else. They were there with him before the Legions, before the Primarchs, even before the Thunder Warriors of old. They were them with him at the start of the Unification War. As such, they are different beings from the Astartes. Their creation is something that father has not seen fit to share with us, so none of us know anything about what goes into their making."
"Is that why they don't seem particularly awed by you?" Hayreddin smiled when Thorondor harrumphed in response.
"After everything they've seen, nothing really surprises them anymore," said Thorondor, taking a turn in the corridor. "They exist separate to the chain of command. As such, they don't answer to anyone. Not even the Primarchs, only to father and perhaps Malcador. They may defer to us if they're involved in our campaigns, but we don't command them. Deadly warriors though, incredibly lethal."
"So why doesn't the Emperor make more of them?" asked Hayreddin.
Thorondor led Hayreddin down another turn. Hayreddin had the impression that the corridor was subtly climbing.
"I've wondered about that," replied Thorondor. "My best guess is that the process of making them likely takes much longer than making an Astartes. Perhaps it's a matter of efficiency."
It was an odd thing, to hear Thorondor talking about the process of making Astartes like they were weapons rather than warriors. It was very unlike Thorondor, whom he had observed to be tight-knit with his warriors.
They continued in silence, Hayreddin taking in the craftsmanship of the corridors they passed. Like the shuttle port, every inch was a work of art: frescoes and reliefs that probably depicted the triumphs and tragedy of Mankind's history on Terra. Hayreddin wondered how long it had taken to build the Imperial Palace. It must have taken centuries at the very least.
Before long, Hayreddin could hear voices travelling along the corridor. Thorondor halted and listened. Hayreddin could see Thorondor's smile widening. Thorondor beckoned to Hayreddin and they both headed towards the voices. With their superhuman hearing, they could soon make out the words being said.
"Look at all this. Isn't it exquisite, Ferrus?" the first voice said, rich, melodious and filled with delight. "Look at the mastery of the designs, it must have taken a long time to get the details perfect. How magnificent."
A grunt, and the second voice spoke, as hard and cold as iron. "Time wasted; I'd say. We have a galaxy to win back."
Laughter responded to the statement, as musical as an opera song. "You are a terrible Gorgon, Ferrus. How could we appreciate the magnitude of father's mission if we cannot even appreciate the beauty of what we are trying to win back?"
Laughter that sounded like the hammering of an anvil was the only answer as Thorondor and Hayreddin emerged from the corridor into a massive hall.
Hayreddin's eyes were bombarded by what looked like the wealth of an entire world packed into that single hall. Wondrous gemstones and artefacts crafted from aragonite, opal and tourmaline lined the tables in the hall, shining in the light. Statues of angels, warriors and other figures lined the hall as far as the eye can see, seeming to glow with their own light.
Despite all the splendour surrounding him, it was the two beings in the centre of the hall that caught Hayreddin's attention. For the first time since meeting Thorondor, Hayreddin beheld not just one, but two other Primarchs.
There was no doubting it.
One was dressed in a toga of royal purple trimmed with gold. His bare shoulders and legs revealed musculature so perfect it put the statues surrounding them to shame, and his skin was so fair he seemed to radiate a glow of his own. His silver fair fell freely past his shoulders, framing a beautiful face with eyes that twinkled like the stars and full red lips that contrasted with his paleness. A more beautiful being Hayreddin had never seen in his life.
The other Primarch was a stark contrast. Clad in ebony power armour that made him tower over the other, this one radiated power and martial might that rivalled Thorondor. Hayreddin noted the silver arms crossed across his breastplate. His pale face was as hard as iron, his hair shorn close to his skull. His eyes were molten silver, without any pupils. At the moment though, the hard face was contorted with mirth as he laughed alongside his brother.
"What's this about a Gorgon?" Thorondor called over to them. The beautiful one turned and upon seeing Thorondor, his face broke out in a delighted smile, seeming to light up the entire hall. He strode over with graceful strides, his arms extended in welcome.
"Throne of Terra, Thor! It is wonderful to see you again!" said the beautiful Primarch, embracing Thorondor and kissing him on the cheek. "At last, someone who can appreciate these wonders and save me from Ferrus' coarse and uncultured remarks."
They parted and turned to greet Ferrus, who had walked up to join them. Both Thorondor and Ferrus were still in their power armour and stood eye-to-eye. They clasped wrists in greeting, broad smiles on their faces.
"Thorondor," greeted Ferrus.
"Ferrus," returned Thorondor. "Tormenting Fulgrim again?"
Ferrus laughed again. Beside them, the other Primarch, Fulgrim, had caught sight of Hayreddin. There was an inkling of realisation on his face, mixed with curiosity.
"Is this why you are here, Thor?" asked Fulgrim, smiling at Hayreddin.
Thorondor turned and beckoned Hayreddin closer. "Yes. Ferrus, Fulgrim, this is Hayreddin, Primarch of the Eleventh Legion and our newly restored brother. Hayreddin, this is Ferrus Manus, Lord of the Iron Hands, the Tenth Legion. And this is Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children, the Third Legion."
Hayreddin stepped closer, suddenly aware of just how much taller his brothers were. Even Fulgrim, who wasn't in power armour, easily dwarfed him by at least two heads. More than physical size though, Hayreddin could sense the difference between him and all three of them. Three flawless demigods of war, who had accomplished far more than Hayreddin could ever dream of. And he was supposed to play the same role as them? The task suddenly seemed so daunting. Even in appearance alone, Hayreddin suddenly felt his robes, tailored by the finest seamstress on Baybar, was drab by comparison.
Then Fulgrim stooped, pulling Hayreddin closer by the shoulders and gave him a kiss on each cheek. Hayreddin's unease and insecurity faded.
"My brother, well met," said Fulgrim, smiling down at him. "Welcome home. I look forward to learning more about you."
"Thank you, Fulgrim," replied Hayreddin, and his voice came out calm and steady. "I still have a lot to learn before I can even hope to meet the standards you have set."
Fulgrim chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll have the finest teacher in Thor here. You'll be fine."
Hayreddin smiled at him before turning to look at Ferrus. The Tenth Primarch stared intently at him in silence for a long moment. At last, he snorted and glanced at Fulgrim. "Looks like you're not the only pretty ponce anymore."
Thorondor and Fulgrim both laughed. Fulgrim draped an arm around Hayreddin's shoulders. "Ignore Ferrus, he's just jealous he'll never be as good-looking as us. I'm glad to have met you, Hayreddin. Tell me, what do you think of these…"
Fulgrim pulled Hayreddin over to some of the artefacts to admire them. Thorondor watched them fondly for a moment before turning to Ferrus. "Looks Fulgrim finally has someone who shares his interest in fine things."
Ferrus snorted, making Thorondor chuckle. The Storm Lord eyed the statues and treasures in the hall, taking in the details.
"Baalite?" asked Thorondor. Ferrus nodded in affirmation.
"Apparently Sanguinius brought all of this awhile back. Fulgrim heard about it and wanted to have a look."
"Where is Sanguinius?" asked Thorondor, receiving a shrug from Ferrus this time.
"I haven't seen him yet." Thorondor nodded, eyeing the winged statue before him. While masterfully crafted, to Thorondor's eyes it was a poor rendition of Sanguinius.
"How is he?" asked Ferrus quietly. "How do you find him?"
Thorondor looked over to where Fulgrim was pressing a gemstone into Hayreddin's hands, no doubt wanting his opinion on the craftsmanship. Hayreddin raised it to eye level, studying it intently.
"He is different," said Thorondor. "In a good way."
Ferrus said nothing, waiting for Thorondor to elaborate. "He abhors war but has the necessary mettle to wage one if needed. He understands the value of winning people's hearts instead of forcing them to submit by force of arms. That's how he came to power on his world, through diplomacy and fighting the necessary wars as needed."
Ferrus snorted, looking unimpressed. "Would that be enough to lead a Legion? He'll be leading an army of warriors, not diplomats."
"I think he can do it," said Thorondor. "The Eleventh may not be in position for a large scale war, but I believe that may work in Hayreddin's favour. He'll be able to mould them into something different."
"And what might that be? The Astartes are engineered for the sole purpose of winning wars that mortals couldn't. Is he going to turn the Eleventh Legion away from that?" asked Ferrus. Thorondor chuckled and clapped his brother on the shoulder.
"If it's war, then there's seventeen of us already perfect for that role, plus the last two we haven't found. Give him time, Ferrus. Let's see what he can do."
XI II XI II
It took awhile, but Thorondor was finally able to pull Hayreddin away from Fulgrim. The Primarch of the Emperor's Children was so delighted to have met another Primarch as cultured as he was, that he had wanted to show Hayreddin around the Imperial Palace. But Thorondor had insisted that they had come to see Magnus first and foremost. Hayreddin had promised to join Fulgrim again soon.
He and Thorondor were making their way towards the libraries on the upper floors, where Magnus had reportedly sequestered himself. The passageway they were taking was steadily climbing, and Hayreddin studied the murals painted on the walls. It depicted vast armies at war, with the Emperor's likeness surveying all.
"How did you find Fulgrim and Ferrus?" Thorondor asked as they walked.
Fulgrim had seemed to like him well enough. The Third Primarch had been eager to engage Hayreddin in discussion about art and culture and had been eager to learn more about the development of Baybar. Ferrus had been somewhat aloof, not speaking much throughout their interaction.
"Fulgrim made me feel welcome," said Hayreddin. "Ferrus seems to be harder to please."
Thorondor smiled at Hayreddin over his shoulder. "Don't take it personally. Ferrus comes from a harsh Death World. Life is hard there, and it made his people harder. He does not open up easily. You must prove yourself worthy of his respect. Once you earn it, it will be ironclad, and you may count him as a stout friend."
Hayreddin nodded in acceptance. Such was often the case with hardened warriors. Ravenna was like that too…
He pushed away thoughts of his old friend.
"What can I expect of Magnus?" Hayreddin asked. Thorondor's reaction to the question was subtle, but it spoke volumes. His brother's steps slowed slightly, a stiffness crept into his body language and when Thorondor turned to look at him, his smile looked diplomatic.
"Perhaps you should see for yourself," Thorondor suggested. Hayreddin cocked his head, his curiosity piqued.
"You don't seem fond of him," he said.
"What gave you that idea?"
"Your body language tells me what you're reluctant to express with words, Thorondor."
Thorondor sighed and paused. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts and Hayreddin waited patiently.
"Magnus…to say I'm not fond of him may be simplistic," said Thorondor slowly. "Our relationship is much more complex than that. Though that is entirely my fault."
"How so?" asked Hayreddin.
Thorondor considered the question. "You could say Magnus explores a field of knowledge and practice that I find disturbing."
"He is a psyker, I remember you telling me this."
"He is, but he is a psyker beyond anything that you've seen so far. His powers…I'm not sure what the limits are, if he has limits. That worries me."
"You worry he might be too powerful?" asked Hayreddin.
Thorondor shook his head. "Father is a powerful psyker too, even more powerful than Magnus. But he has restraint and control of his gift. Magnus…I fear he may not have the same prudence. I know he studies and explores his powers and encourages the same in his Legion."
"Isn't that good? Greater knowledge and understanding would allow him to know his limits and improve control."
"Or it could result in potential abuse and disaster. Magnus has a strained relationship with the other Primarchs as it is because of his 'studies', especially with Russ and Mortarion."
Hayreddin noted Thorondor's dark tone. He decided to return to his initial question. "And you?"
Thorondor halted in his tracks. He seemed to be pondering how best to put his thoughts into words and Hayreddin waited.
"I believe…I do not fully understand the depth of Magnus' abilities, and it makes me wary of him," said Thorondor slowly. "My people had no experience with psykers until our return to the Imperium. We had survived the Eternal Storm with our strength, cunning and brotherhood. To discover these otherworldly abilities was a shock to us. It seemed like sorcery and it rankled us, even struck fear into some of us. Learning to accept psykers had been a difficult process for us. But while the Tempestans have learned to accept the necessity of Astropaths and Navigators, the abilities that Magnus and the Thousand Sons are rumoured to wield are a whole different matter."
"Rumoured to wield?" echoed Hayreddin.
"My Legion have not fought much alongside the Thousands Sons. When we do, the Fifteenth keep their distance and my Captains are not inclined to bridge the gap. So we do not have a clear grasp and what they are actually capable of doing. It's a shame."
"But as to your question. You could say my rift with Magnus stems from me not fully understanding him. If he were to lift that veil of mystery he likes to shroud himself with, perhaps we can close the rift."
"But you didn't hesitate to name Magnus as the one who could help me and my Legion?" said Hayreddin.
Thorondor nodded. "Just because I have my disagreements with him doesn't mean that I don't acknowledge his good points. The Thousand Sons was a Legion in crisis before Magnus. He saved them. So I believe he would be the best person to help you restore the Eleventh."
"I appreciate your honesty," said Hayreddin in acceptance of Thorondor words. There was more he wanted to ask, but Thorondor resumed their journey, and Hayreddin hurried to keep up with the Storm Lord.
As they continued their ascent, Hayreddin noticed a shift in the air. When they had arrived in the Imperial Palace, Hayreddin had noted the air deep within smelled of chemicals. When he asked about it, Thorondor had explain that a lot of the air within the Palace was recycled and ventilated mechanically throughout the massive complex. But now, Hayreddin noticed the air was fresher, though it carried the smell of smog prevalent throughout Terra, it lacked the chemical tinge that marked its passage through the machinery that recycled it throughout the Palace. He also caught scent of something earthier.
Hayreddin halted. Thorondor walked on a few more steps before he noticed Hayreddin had stopped.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
Hayreddin found himself looking down another passageway that branched off the one they were in. He could see the glimpse of sunlight at the end of it.
"Where does this go?" Hayreddin asked. Thorondor joined him and stared down the passageway for a moment.
"I'm not sure," the Storm Lord admitted. "I haven't been in this part of Palace all that much."
"Could we have a look?" Hayreddin asked. Thorondor seemed to be about to reply in the negative, but then changed his mind. Perhaps he was just as curious as Hayreddin.
"Alright," said Thorondor, and he gestured for Hayreddin to lead the way. As they drew close to the end of the passageway, Hayreddin felt the air growing cooler and he could hear the wind blowing. Stepping through an ornately decorated portal at the end of passage, Hayreddin and Thorondor found themselves in an open-air terrace garden that was built into the side of the Himalazian Mountains. The garden was a wondrous sight to behold, with foliage and flowers that seemed to cascade from one terrace to the other like a series of waterfalls. But even more amazing to behold, was the vista that spread out below.
All of Terra seemed sprawled out below, a plain of steel grey with hive cities rising like mountains. Manufactorums sprawled out at various parts, belching smoke that was indistinguishable from heavy clouds hanging heavily in the skies. Hayreddin was certain if he was down there, it would be an endless cacophony of industry and masses of humanity going about their lives. But up in the gardens built into the mountain-side, it was quiet and serene sight, broken only by the howling winds.
Hayreddin looked out over the view, mesmerised. It was a breathtaking, a tapestry of humanity from the perspective of the gods. Beside him, Thorondor was examining the plants.
"This must be one of the hidden gardens around the Palace," mused Thorondor. "This is the first time I've seen one."
Thorondor stooped to examine one of the flowering plants, marveling at how well they were growing despite the arid environment.
"It's amazing that life always find a way," said Hayreddin, still looking out at the sprawling cities below.
"Yes, I would have never expected such plants to be able grow this high up," said Thorondor, looking at a flower.
"No, Thor, that," Hayreddin gestured to the cities below. Thorondor looked and his smile widened as he moved to stand beside Hayreddin. The sun was hidden behind the smog, but lances of sunlight still penetrated through, pillars of light giving a golden hue to everything in the sight of both Primarchs.
It was beautiful.
"There is always beauty to be found even in…" a shadow swooped above them, cutting Thorondor off. Both Primarchs looked to the skies, and to Hayreddin astonishment, Thorondor began to laugh. It was a sound of pure joy, untainted by the restrained cynicism he was used to hearing from the Storm Lord. The delightful sound seemed to make the flowers in the garden bloom, though Hayreddin was certain that he imagined it.
"Show off!" Thorondor shouted to the skies.
Laughter descended from the heavens, pealing like the tolling of bells as an angel flew down towards them. He was haloed in the light of the sun, his wings shining, as white as the sands of Baybar's deserts. As he drew closer, Hayreddin could see he was dressed in white robes trimmed with arterial red, and his dark hair flew freely about his face as he effortless flew against the howling wind.
He landed before them, as light as a feather and in a heartbeat, Thorondor pulled him into a fierce embrace, still laughing with joy. The angel returned the embrace just as fiercely, his wings curled protectively around them both. Hayreddin could see how deep their bond was. Here was one that Thorondor clearly loved dearly, even more so than Fulgrim and Ferrus.
Even as they pulled apart, the angel leaned his forehead against Thorondor's in the universal gesture of affection. The Storm Lord turned away and beckoned Hayreddin closer.
"Come Hayreddin, come and meet…"
"Sanguinius," Hayreddin finished with a smile. It could be no one else. "Thorondor has told me much about you, brother."
"All good, I hope," said Sanguinius, smiling down at Hayreddin. He was beautiful Hayreddin realised. Even more so than Fulgrim, whose beauty seemed cultivated like a sculpture. Sanguinius' beauty was something unpracticed and unaffected, like the beauty of the ocean or a mountain, natural and untamed.
"Only the best," confirmed Hayreddin. "He holds you in the highest regard."
Sanguinius shot Thorondor an affectionate look. "Our brother exaggerates, surely."
He pulled Hayreddin into a welcoming embrace. "Welcome, Hayreddin. Welcome home, my brother."
II XI II XI
Thorondor had always been open and warm towards Hayreddin. But there was a still something guarded in all their interactions together. With Sanguinius, Hayreddin could see for the first time a side of Thorondor that he had not seen before. He could see how Thorondor fully trusted the Angel of Baal, the ease of their interaction and their closeness. Theirs was clearly a relationship built on mutual trust, respect and love developed over a long period of time.
Hayreddin felt wistful that it was not something he was a part of.
The three Primarchs were making their way to one of the vast libraries in the Palace. Sanguinius apparently had heard which one that Magnus and Lorgar had sequestered themselves in and was leading the way.
"Which reminds me, Sanguinius?" asked Thorondor. "What brings you to Terra?"
"The same as you and Hayreddin, actually," answered Sanguinius. "I'm here to see Magnus."
"What about?"
Sanguinius glanced at Thorondor. "An idea Magnus and Jaghatai broached to me actually. I'm here to discuss it further."
Hayreddin thought that particular combination of Primarchs was odd, given what he had learned about them. Apparently Thorondor thought the same too.
"What sort of mad idea would the Warhawk of Chogoris, the Angel of Baal and Magnus the Red come up with?" asked Thorondor.
Sanguinius laughed at the description before he sobered. "Something that could have an impact on all the Legions. It's best if I say nothing more for now."
"If it's going to affect all the Legions, then shouldn't Hayreddin and I also know?" pressed Thorondor, but Sanguinius shook his head.
"The feasibility is still uncertain, Thor," said the Angel. "We need to have all the information to see if it's even possible to do. No need to risk ruffling our brothers' feathers before then, so to speak. You know how prickly some of us can be where our Legion is involved."
Thorondor inclined in his head. "True enough. Very well, I'll trust your word on this."
Sanguinius smiled. "Thank you, Thor. And here we are."
The three Primarchs had come to set of massive gilded door. Emblazoned with gold, it bore a book with flames erupting from its pages.
"The Flame of Illumination," said Sanguinius in answer to Hayreddin's unspoken question as he pushed the doors open.
Hayreddin's eyes widened.
On Baybar, the greatest library on the entire planet had been within his own Administrative Palace. An entire wing of alabaster stone with endless rows of shelves stacked with scrolls and books from every corner of Baybar. Each section of the library had to be tended to by a team of librarians to organise and catalogue the written words that passed into the library's possession. It was a monumental task.
But what Hayreddin saw before him now completely eclipsed the library he had helped build on his homeworld. Shelves the height of mountains rose out of sight, books, documents, data-slates and every other form of the written word crammed together in a chaotic mess. Each shelf seemed to carry the entire knowledge of whole worlds, and they stretched on in endless rows as far as the eye could see. It was like a primeval forest of shelves, casting their great shadow across the crimson floor.
Whatever light that came from the ceilings did not reach the floor, which was instead lit by countless chirping cherubs carrying lamps as they buzzed around the library. Squads of servitors ambled past, each carrying crates of books to their respective destinations.
As the three Primarchs walked in, a flock of cherubs fluttered down, hovering above their heads to illuminate their way.
"I've never seen so many books in one place," marveled Hayreddin.
Sanguinius smiled at him. "This is just the upper sections of the Palace's Library. Access here is restricted to the higher echelons of the Imperium, so not many come here."
Indeed, upon looking around, Hayreddin could only see servitors and cherubs. There was no sight of anyone else perusing the endless wealth of knowledge contained in the massive library.
Until they went farther inside.
At a long table set between a row of shelves, they came across what Hayreddin could now easily recognised as another Primarch. A soft golden light seemed to shine from him, illuminating the surrounding darkness more effectively than the light carried by the hovering cherubs. He was dressed in simple robes, and as they drew closer, Hayreddin could see some sort of runic script tattooed on his shaven head, travelling down his neck and disappearing into his robes. His face was solemn as he concentrated on the book before him, but his eyes shone with fervour, no doubt effortlessly absorbing the knowledge written within the tome.
He sensed their approach and looked up. He nodded politely to Sanguinius, but a full smile broke out on his face when he spotted Thorondor. He stood up, arms wide open in welcome.
"Thorondor, a joy indeed! I was not expecting you."
"Lorgar," greeted Thorondor, embracing the smaller Primarch. "A pleasure to see you again, brother."
So this was Lorgar Aurelian. Thorondor had spoken highly of him during their journey to Terra. The worlds that Lorgar and his Word Bearers brought into Compliance were the most loyal and devoted in their service to the Imperium and Mankind. That Lorgar had achieved much of this through peaceful means raised Thorondor's esteem of the Word Bearers' Primarch.
Thorondor beckoned Hayreddin closer. "This is why I came here. Lorgar, meet…"
"No need for introduction, Thorondor," said Lorgar, stepping past to approach Hayreddin. Though he was smaller than Thorondor and Sanguinius, Lorgar was still at least a full head taller than Hayreddin. He smiled down at him. "I recognise one of our own. Welcome brother, today is a joyous day indeed."
"Well met, Lorgar," greeted Hayreddin. "I am Hayreddin. Thorondor has always spoken highly of you and the Word Bearers."
Lorgar beamed warmly. "Thorondor is too kind. Will you join me, brothers? Magnus is here too."
"We are actually here to see him," said Sanguinius as they sat at the table. Lorgar looked over at Thorondor.
"You too?" he asked.
Thorondor shook his head. "I'm here to escort Hayreddin, that's all."
Lorgar chuckled. "The mighty Storm Lord of Tempestas playing chaperone? How the mighty have fallen." The Primarchs all laughed. Lorgar turned to Hayreddin.
"You're in good hands brother. Except for Horus and perhaps Sanguinius, Thorondor here is almost peerless in his accomplishments. Few even among our brothers could match him."
"Don't sell yourself short, Lorgar," said Thorondor. "Being able to bring worlds into Compliance by the power of your words alone is a rare gift."
"Not all agree with you," replied Lorgar. "Some believe my Legion moves to slowly in our efforts to return worlds into Father's light."
"It's easy to force someone to submit by force of arms," returned Thorondor. "But winning hearts and minds; that's the true challenge. The worlds you've brought back are loyal, Lorgar. Be proud of that. By contrast, the worlds we others have conquered simmer with resentment and low-scale rebellion. It would be generations before they accept Compliance."
"In this, I agree with Thorondor," said Sanguinius. However, the look he gave to Lorgar was guarded. "Your worlds are loyal. Though I have heard rumours of your methods of persuasion, Lorgar. It is…troubling to say the least."
"I am not without my critics, Sanguinius," though Lorgar kept his tone light, Hayreddin noticed an edge had crept into his voice. He also observed the wariness that crept behind Lorgar's smile as he looked at Sanguinius. "I persuade them with the truth, nothing more."
"That would be the Imperial Truth, I hope," said the Angel pointedly. Lorgar's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, Hayreddin noticed.
"Come now, Sanguinius," said Thorondor. "Lorgar has brought worlds peacefully into the Imperium, that is something to be celebrated. The less of our kin we fight, the better. There are enough enemies out there for humanity without us having to fight each other."
Sanguinius looked over to Thorondor. "That is true enough."
Lorgar was about to speak up but was interrupted by Thorondor's vox bead chiming. The Storm Lord excused himself and retreated among the titanic shelves to receive it. When he was out of earshot, Sanguinius turned to Hayreddin.
"Tell me, Hayreddin, how do you find Thorondor?"
"Thorondor has been very gracious and helpful in getting me up to speed," answered Hayreddin honestly. "I've learned much from him."
Sanguinius smiled. "I would expect nothing less from him. But how is he?"
Hayreddin caught the underlying concern in the Angel's question. But he wasn't sure what exactly Sanguinius was concerned about, so he decided to give his honest observation.
"I sense there's something weighing heavily on him. I feel that despite his outward friendliness, he is hiding something. A deep personal struggle."
What Hayreddin didn't say was that behind his ever-present smile, Thorondor almost seemed haunted. It was as though the Storm Lord had ghosts that he wrestled with. Hayreddin did quite understand it, but Sanguinius seemed to well enough.
"Ah, Thor," sighed Sanguinius quietly to himself. "He carries too much upon himself."
"As do we all," interjected Lorgar, giving the Angel a warning look. "Ours is a most heavy duty. It would crush the strongest of men. That is why Father wrought us to be beyond mortal men, that we might carry this burden."
He placed a hand on Hayreddin's shoulder. Hayreddin could see a fervour burning in Lorgar's eyes.
"This duty has now also been placed upon your shoulders, Hayreddin. You will learn the true weight of it before long. Bear it well, the way Horus, Sanguinius, Thorondor and our other brothers have done."
But then, the fervour faded and Lorgar's expression softened. "But though we Primarchs are built to be stronger than mortal men, we are still men. And this burden can be so great that even we may struggle under its weight. Especially those who have done it for as long as Horus and Thorondor. That is why we have each other, that we may share the weight of this heavy duty together. You will be learning at Thorondor's side for a time. He will be there for you, but you must also be there for him. Sanguinius is right in that Thorondor can be too hard on himself. Help him find his strength, spirit and faith. Remind him that he is not alone."
Sanguinius nodded. "On this, we both agree, Lorgar."
The Angel looked at Hayreddin. "I know you will have much on your shoulders in the near future, Hayreddin. But please, be Thorondor's support as best as you can. We try to be there for him as much as we could, but the Crusade takes us far apart across the galaxy."
Hayreddin listened, touched by both Sanguinius and Lorgar's concern for Thorondor. He realised the melancholy he sensed in Thorondor must be something the other Primarchs are aware of. It was heartwarming to see they brotherly concern they had for him.
"I will do my best," promised Hayreddin, just as Thorondor returned. A quick look at the Storm Lord's revealed that the news he received was troubling.
"Is all well, Thorondor?" asked Hayreddin.
"An incident with the Storm Eagles and the Luna Wolves," said Thorondor. "I'm sorry, Hayreddin, but I will have to leave you here for awhile, I must go attend to this."
"That bad?" asked Sanguinius, frowning.
"Unfortunately," confirmed Thorondor. He looked over to Hayreddin. "You will be attended to while I'm gone, have no fear of that."
"That's not what I was worried about, Thorondor," said Hayreddin. Lorgar nodded, clapping Hayreddin on the shoulder.
"Fret not, Thorondor, Sanguinius and I will ensure that Hayreddin will be cared for until Father's arrival."
Thorondor nodded gratefully. "Thank you both. Once you have settled your affairs with the Emperor, you and the Eleventh will be join the Storm Eagles and I. I will see you soon, Hayreddin."
"Leaving so soon, Thorondor?"
The deep voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Hayreddin. As someone born with acute senses, to be caught off-guard was an unwelcome surprise. He whirled around to see a giant just emerging from the bookshelves silently.
Without a doubt, he was a Primarch. But he was the most striking one Hayreddin had seen thus far. Reddish-bronze skin stretched over taut muscle as he strode forward, his steps as silent as the void. A wild mane of red hair, barely kept in check by a bronze circlet streamed down past his waist and was almost indistinguishable from the crimson robes he wore.
From the way Thorondor had described him, Hayreddin had been expecting someone more like himself, bookish and scholarly. But Magnus the Red looked more like a warrior-king, as comfortable at war as he was with books. The Primarch of the Thousand Sons was taller than even Thorondor, who was clad in his power armour. But the most striking feature, Hayreddin noticed, was the missing eye.
He had known about it of course, Thorondor had described the physical features of the Crimson King in detail. But Hayreddin had assumed that Magnus had simply lost his eye in combat. Instead of a scarred, ruined socket of where the eye should have been, was simply a blank stretch of reddish skin. It was as if the eye had never been there.
"Sanguinius, glad to see you," said the Crimson King. His sole eye found Hayreddin. With a start, Hayreddin realised that Magnus' eye swirled with indeterminable colours. It was strange, yet beautiful in a way.
"Hayreddin of Baybar, welcome home," said Magnus with a small smile.
"You already know of me?" asked Hayreddin. Perhaps this was what Thorondor meant, Magnus' ability to simply know things due to his powers. Thorondor was right, it was unnerving. Perhaps sensing this, the Storm Lord spoke up.
"You need to work on making a better first impression, Magnus. Some people don't find your mind-reading amusing."
Magnus looked over at the Second Primarch. "It's hardly mind-reading, Thorondor. I overheard all of you."
"We haven't mentioned Baybar at all since we arrived," retorted Thorondor. His tone was civil, but there was an edge in his voice. "People aren't books, Magnus. We don't like to be read."
Thorondor and Magnus stared each other down until Sanguinius stepped between them.
"Peace, brothers," said the Angel of Baal, touching both Primarchs on the arm. "I'm sure Magnus meant no harm, Thor."
Magnus inclined his head towards Thorondor and Hayreddin. "If I made you both uncomfortable, I apologise. It was not my intent."
"No need for apologies, Magnus," returned Hayreddin smoothly, ever the diplomat.
Thorondor looked between them and seemed to regret his expression of thinly veiled hostility. "I was too harsh. Forgive me, Magnus."
"No harm done, Thorondor," replied Magnus, and Thorondor nodded his head.
"Now, I must take my leave," said the Storm Lord. Sanguinius rose to his feet, as did Hayreddin.
"I will see you off, Thorondor," said Sanguinius. Thorondor smiled.
"Thank you, Sanguinius," said Thorondor. To Hayreddin, he said, "You stay here, Hayreddin. You have much to talk with Magnus, I know. I will see you again soon enough."
Hayreddin hesitated. In the short time since they had met, his brother had quickly become a huge presence in his life. They had built a rapport and familiarity from the time they had spent together, Thorondor mentoring him. Hayreddin would even call it call it a closeness, though it was nothing compared to the bond Thorondor shared with Sanguinius. For his brother to suddenly leave him behind, Hayreddin suddenly felt vulnerable. But Thorondor had his duties to attend to. Such was the nature of the Crusade, he supposed.
Still, Hayreddin couldn't just let Thorondor go like that.
"Thor," he said, just as the Storm Lord turned to leave. It was the first time Hayreddin had ever used his brother's nickname, and it caught Thorondor's attention. The Second Primarch looked back at him questioningly.
"I…thank you for everything you've done for me," was all Hayreddin could say.
Thorondor smiled, looking slightly puzzled. "It was my pleasure, Hayreddin. I will see you soon, brother."
"And Thor," Hayreddin hastily added. "Be safe."
Thorondor chuckled. "Always."