Julius Kaesoron, First Captain of the Emperor's Children - he was still that, despite everything - waited behind the curtain.
He was waiting for his Primarch to receive him, even as the Pride of the Emperor sailed through the madness of the Warp. And he was waiting, too, for his Primarch to reassure him, because Fulgrim's speech at the Brotherhood's latest gathering caused great anxiety in his uncertain hearts.
For now, however, the Phoenician was relaxing, and Kaesoron did not dare disturb him. Thus he merely stood, hidden, repeating to himself that Fulgrim was only pretending to embrace Slaanesh to appease the Legion and that he was only waiting until Fulgrim got up, that he was not spying on his father.
But he had to be sure. Even if he had been spying, in this age none in the Legion would dare blame him for that. He repeated to himself, however, that he wasn't, that he would never do that to his Primarch.
Then there were footsteps on the other side of the room, and Marius Vairosean barged in. Kaesoron cringed at his manner of walk, entirely undeferential. The Third Captain seemingly had no reverence for the Phoenician.
Vairosean had no respect for Fulgrim's rest, either, as he immediately began his presentation.
"Father," the Third Captain said.
The sitting Fulgrim turned his face. "Yes, Marius?"
"I…" Marius seemed lost for words. "I found this… jewelry… in the ruins of Utkicia VI. It is an icon of the god Slaanesh, is it not?"
Fulgrim looked at the icon. "Yes," he announced as he turned it over. "It is, Marius."
"I wish to make a gift of it," Vairosean said. "To you."
The Third Captain's speech was entirely unembellished, though it was at least practiced. Fulgrim's responses, meanwhile, were distracted. "Thank you," the Primarch said. "It warms my heart that you have converted."
"It was a long journey," Marius said with a chuckle. "And it is a long journey, actually, one that I am taking my first steps on."
"Only Kaesoron is left, now, of the senior leadership," Fulgrim said. "I do not know how to tell him, Vairosean. He fears the Primordial Truth. He still refuses to accept Slaanesh. He will eventually, I know, but…."
Kaesoron's faith was as a bright floodlight, illuminating all in the vicinity, pale, penetrating. Yet it was brittle as a floodlight, too.
The floodlight broke.
All was dark.
As silently as he could, Julius Kaesoron retreated.
Fulgrim was a traitor. No, not a traitor - loyal, always loyal to the Emperor. But Fulgrim was loyal to Slaanesh, too. This decay, this madness in the Legion that Kaesoron had seen in deepest pink during the campaign - this was not a regrettable and temporary side effect of Fulgrim's and the Emperor's grand plans. This was the goal.
This was what the Warmaster had rebelled against.
Walking alone through the darkened, oozing corridors of the Pride of the Emperor, Julius Kaesoron remembered the campaign of Slodi's moon. Had Fulgrim truly meant for him to massacre only the leadership? Had it truly been good, or even acceptable, to do even that? He was a First Captain - he was leader enough to make his own decisions. Why? How?
"Perfection cries in dismay among the hordes trod underfoot." Ignace Karkasky's second Perfection's Cry was not as well-regarded as his first. It seemed to oppose the Crusade, for one. But now, Julius Kaesoron recognized it for the work of genius it was.
Ignace Karkasky had recognized, before anyone else, the decay of the Imperium. Ignace Karkasky had seen, before anyone else (at least anyone else that had been heard), the inevitable result of eternal war.
Julius Kaesoron, Captain of the Lions of Chemos, blindly stumbled through the hallways of the Pride of the Emperor, cursing his mistakes. He had known much earlier, had he not? He had simply been unwilling to accept the truth.
Kaesoron clenched his fists. Focus. The world had ended, but he was still alive, and still able to act.
He knew Horus had to be right, now; or else no one was, but the path to light in that universe still passed through Horus, for the Warmaster could not be more wrong than the Emperor. And the rebellion, as all rebellions, would accept defectors, at least at an early stage. His Company would mostly follow him, especially if he explained his decision.
There had to be others. Not Vairosean, of course; the Third Captain was Slaaneshi now, and that insidious path always led to damnation. For a moment Kaesoron's gaze clouded as he considered the implications of that word. If he was returning to Horus, should he not abandon his faith entirely in favor of the old Imperial Truth?
But that truth was dead, murdered in the trail of the Emperor's ascension.
Korander would follow Kaesoron. So would Astarune. Krysander and Tarvitz were less guaranteed, but they could be made to understand. Finally, Kaesoron mentally noted Onurry of the 40th. Six Companies, out of the entire Legion.
They would suffice. They had to suffice.
"We are still Space Marines," Kaesoron said. "And we still know no fear. No matter what."
He walked more purposefully now, heading towards his apartment. Shining with determination, Julius Kaesoron walked up from the engineering decks, his invisible visage carved into a grimace as he considered the repugnance of his act. He was betraying his father.
But his father had betrayed humanity's ideals. That changed everything.
Kaesoron crossed the gilded Triumphal Way and ascended several flights of stairs, traced a path around his Company's hall, shot up through an illuminator deck - the windows themselves were covered up again, ever since several imitators of Demeter lost their minds completely - and marched into his office at last. He prepared the scrivener for his announcement, meditating on what he would say.
He would not reveal his decision, not at first. But eventually he would cause madness to ensue by reminding of the madness that was already widespread.
Kaesoron tried to write his speech, but that went badly; so he wrote poetry instead. He tried to describe what the Legion was turning into. It was a grim, mad world that he sketched, a universe without justice or mercy, and most importantly a universe without melancholy.
"True sadness is not of agony; true joy is not of ecstasy."
"Indeed," Ispequr Davars said, coming up to his Captain.
"I thought I had cleared all appointments today?" He had, in retrospect, probably done it to leave more time for following his father.
"You have; I was just… wondering. How is your paranoia?"
"I'm not paranoid! I - you know the daemons are coming, Davars. You've seen the state of the Legion."
"Do you have a plan to deal with it, Brother-Captain?" Davars asked, and if Astartes felt no fear, his voice at least held a year's worth of worry.
"I do," Kaesoron said.
It was the truth. He knew already, for instance, that he would carry out the betrayal while in Ultramar space. Fleeing the Pride of the Emperor within the Warp was sheer madness, and the best time to strike would be when Fulgrim was distracted.
He knew, too, the name of a staunch ally, one that was not among ranks of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix.
"I believe you," Davars said. "Your paranoia… it may be useful yet, if you do not allow it to dominate you. Become the Astarte you were before Laeran, at least in everything but the fear of daemons. Warp-spawn, I mean." It was an awkward statement, the First Captain vaguely recognized, given that it sloshed into a genre of advice that should not have been aimed at superiors; but Kaesoron's focus was not on reprimands.
"No, daemons. That is their true name. Not angyls, not xenos. And Laeran… I cannot become who I was, Davars. I have changed. Things that once seemed impossible…."
"Like Horus' treachery."
"We were brothers, Davars. We were all brothers, no matter of what Legion. That is unimaginable now. Half the Legions have sold their souls."
Ispequr Davars nodded and hurried out. There was a scowl on the lieutenant's face, despite the lieutenant's feeble pretense of masking it; clearly Davars had some Horusian sympathies. But Kaesoron had been speaking the truth - half the Legions had betrayed mankind.
His half.
Kaesoron began writing.
"Order Omega," he noted for the First, Ninth, Tenth, 32nd, 37th and 40th Companies of the Emperor's Children.
"We live in strange times. Around us, the Great Crusade has become a civil war of unprecedented proportions. We live in mad times. Brother fights brother, and the truth is often hidden. There comes now a time when an army separate from the Legion becomes needed. So swear, to yourself, in this very moment, on your trust in me. Swear not to follow, unless you choose to; but swear to listen, and swear to consider.
"This is Julius Kaesoron. This is Order Omega - "
