Autarch Steiroel stood on the bridge of the Voidline Wheel, eyes impassively gazing at the screens. Not a single one of them showed any deviation from normal: each one flowed naturally from one value to another. The labyrinthine corridors of the Webway flowed by outside.
All was normal. All was calm.
Steiroel's emotions tried to rebel against the conformity, but the Autarch pushed them down with the wisdom of his Path. If everything was peaceful, perhaps this mission would pass without incident and the plans of the Eldar's enemies would be broken.
But- but "seers lie." The Astarte's words still resounded in Steiroel's mind. Doubt plagued everything. Perhaps his short voyage along the Path of the Seer was what had led to this, or perhaps it was simply in his nature to be uncertain.
Still, he could not reveal this uncertainty here. Pilot Oesallira stood nearby, and his four senior Exarchs behind him. Engineers and other Pilots rushed in every direction. This was not the time to sabotage the confidence of his warhost.
There would never be such a time.
"Exiting," Oesallira's voice pronounced, and a small commotion resulted; yet within moments it had ended. Profound joy warred with inner anger in Steiroel's mind- joy at reaching their destination unharassed and anger at the warriors that would certainly die on this world.
Then, the Voidline Wheel and the fleet's other ships exited the Webway, and Steiroel gazed at the surface of Xartassax below.
Their mission had been simple: reach the Exodite world and fortify it, to protect against Slaaneshi cultists. A massive army would invade Xartassax soon, in a few cycles, and the Exodites needed to be prepared.
For now, though, Xartassax was peaceful, a green blotch in the void that let the joy within Steiroel overcome his anger. The time for war would yet come, and the souls of the fallen would be confined in spirit-stones, never again to truly live; yet for now, Xartassax was safe. They would yet fight, and Steiroel felt a bit of anticipation at that; but for now all was well.
Then, again, the thought came to Steiroel's head unbidden.
"Seers lie."
Then again, if no army came to Xartassax,life would be even better.
"Launch the landers," the Autarch proclaimed, and walked towards the bay. He would need to talk with the leaders of this world.
The operations were quite simple, routine even. Steiroel descended with a squad of Dark Reapers, led by the Exarch Tagolles.
The first sign of trouble was the smell of smoke. It was faint within the landing craft, of course, but then again even being able to penetrate its walls indicated a massive conflagration. The true test, though, did not come during the deceleration.
It came when Tagolles opened the doors.
A sonic blast ripped one of the Reapers apart; the others fired outwards. In the confusion, the autarch tried to look outside and understand what was happening. There was no good opening, but the smell and sound were clear enough. Uniting to form a discordant cacophony, they made clear the cultists had already arrived.
The lander was surrounded. A blast of energy caused the back wall to shatter; the splinters killed the human who had fired the shot, but he died with a smile.
"Cover the breach!"
That was Tagolles, but even as Ekallae and Irpatoln turned their cannons around, the sonic weaponry broke another hole in the hull. Steiroel himself turned around and shot the dead Reaper's cannon into the midst of the mob that threatened to overwhelm it; nowhere near as powerful or precise as a Warrior's would be, of course, but enough.
The doors slammed shut once more, and locked with the finest of vacuums. A sonic cannon fell silent from Ekallae's cannon; the other was felled by Tagolles, who had moved to join Steiroel. The noises and screams stopped for a moment, and in that silence Steiroel gathered his thoughts.
He was an Autarch, a Warrior no longer, and he regretted having to end another living being's life- even one as devoted to the Great Enemy as these cultists. But there was no choice. Thr real problem was that-
Was that the seers had lied.
"Retreat!" Steiroel screamed into his communicator, hoping any other surviving members of his warhost would return upwards. He would have no such chance.
As massed fire again concentrated itself on the lander, Steiroel felt resignation. He would die here, and his soul would not half-live an eternity in the spirit stones- it would be devoured.
The resignation disappeared very quickly, though. He would die, perhaps, but he would take as many of the enemy to hell with him as possible.
As fire droned on, Steiroel almost didn't notice the massive shadow falling onto the Chaos cultists. Three more Reapers had already died, and only three others remained to hold their position- as such, it was understandable the autarch was focusing more on the enmy than the lighting. Nevertheless, he did notice the fall of darkness, despite not paying much attention to it.
He most certainly paid attention to the fire that seared away the mon-keigh.
A furred dragon descended onto the stragglers, smashing them with its bulk. The squashed screamed in both agony and ecstasy, filling the air with madness for one last moment before it ended.
"Who are you?" Tagolles asked the Exodite.
"My name," she replied with a strong accent, "is Issetera. I heard fighting, so decided to help you. Who are you?"
"I am Autarch Steiroel. We were sent from Ulthwe to aid your world, but apparently it was us who needed help."
"We need help as well," Issetera said, "but come. There is much to discuss."
Issetera was not a seer- Steiroel felt that. Still, when she heard them struggling, she came to their rescue. The seers, meanwhile, had instead sent so many of them to die on Xartassax without even bothering to check if the army had landed or not.
The autarch had doubted his Craftworld's leadership before. No more.
He knew it was wrong now.