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"Sister." Angronius turned to Lucretia, "Take charge of the camp. I would speak with this… man alone."

The gladiatrix nodded, and ordered everyone else to return to their shelters and tents. Sonjita and Polgara gave their husband a shared expectant look that said 'Will you have need of me or should I stay behind'. Angronius answered with a slight shake of the head and departed to converse with the stranger at a secluded spot at the peak of Fedan Mohr. Regardless of his decision, his wives hovered close at the foot of the peak, eager to pry for all the details once he'd finished as questions flooded their curious minds.

When they were alone, the stranger took a moment to survey the Desh'elikan flatlands beneath Fedan Mohr where the Nucerian legions were encamped. His scrutinizing gaze drifted from one end of the plateau to another, "So it was here… on this very mountainous province. This was where you landed."

Angronius' eyes followed his gaze, then turned back to him. He didn't wish to indulge in idle chatter, so he got to the point of their conversation. "You called yourself my father…"

"I did. And I am." The stranger replied, "I am the Emperor of Mankind, ruler of a vast Imperium beyond mortal comprehension and supreme commander of the legiones astartes. I molded you from my own genetic blueprint, and from a piece of my soul, I gave you life so you could be conceived. But you were taken from me before you were born, you and all your brothers, and were scattered across the realms of man. You were created to serve as my generals, to help me in the glorious task to reclaim all the worlds of mankind and unite it under a single banner. My son, I've spent so many years trying to find you on so many worlds. And now, at long last, we are together again."

Brothers. Worlds beyond the skies of Nuceria, too numerous for anyone to count. Legions of the stars. Angronius grew hopeful with each revelation the Emperor granted him. For the briefest of moments, he considered the dramatic change in his perspective as a man, and he felt glad that he knew now the purpose of his birth. He was born to lead, and oh how he led the slaves out of slavery and bondage. A Primarch. It certainly explained his supernatural capabilities, if nothing else.

The Imperium of Man, the culmination of a thousand years of waging war for the sole purpose of unification, and still growing. From the homeworld, Terra, the beating heart from which all mankind could trace its roots, the Emperor of Mankind led untold billions into the void of space. For billions and billions more needed salvation from the horrors of the xeno and the anomalous.

"It is time." The Emperor declared, "I've watched you from orbit long enough. You must come with me and take your place at my side, so that we might embark on the Great Crusade."

It was there, at that moment, where the conversation took a downwards spiral. Although Angronius did not fully understand the implication of the Emperor's words, he nodded slowly. "That is all well and good, but what of the Nucerians laying siege to this shelter? Will you not aid me in the battles to come, that I and my people would finally rid this world of our oppressors once and for all?"

His answer was a simple resounding, "No."

"No?"

The Emperor shook his head, "I did not come to soil my hands in such a wasteful endeavor as this battle you speak of. I came here for you and only you. Everything else is irrelevant."

There was a quiet buzzing in the back of Angronius' head as the Nails goaded him to attack the haughty man from the stars. He struggled fiercely to bring his murderous urges to heel, and he sighed deeply to keep his composure. "Irrelevant, you say! Is that what we are to you, mere troublesome slaves unworthy of the so-called Master of Mankind's aid?"

"They are troublesome slaves." The Emperor pointed out, "Not you. And they are not your people."

Angronius was shouting now, "You dare?! If you speak the truth about watching me all this time, you would know that I would willingly lay down my life for these freedmen!"

"My son-"

"Do not call me that!" The gladiator king snarled, "I am not your son, and you are not my father! I had a father, his name was Oenomaus! He gave me my name, and it is in his name- and all those suffering beneath the heel of Nuceria- that I fight this war!"

"Listen here now, you will-"

"I am Angronius, and I reject you! Go back to whatever heavenly vessel that brought you here, go back to your glorious crusade! If I am to die with these freedmen, so be it! I will not abandon them, oh Master of Mankind, and nothing you have to say will sway me from this!"

Shocked beyond words, the Emperor of Mankind stared in disbelief at his son's words. Indeed, the commanding voice he used to so viciously lash at him was very much close to his own. If he wasn't so disappointed with his answer, the Emperor would've been proud to see him defend his people with utmost zeal. Alas, so many things weighed upon his mind that he just couldn't think clearly. Reluctantly, the Emperor took his leave and disappeared in a flash of golden light.

Angry, but satisfied with the conclusion, Angronius descended from the peak and met his wives at the bottom. Polgara was the first to broach the subject, "What happened? We overheard you shouting. Did the stranger come to help us?"

"No." The gladiator king replied, taking a seat on a large rock so he could contemplate on the severity of their current circumstances. "No, he won't. He didn't come to help us, at least not in the way anyone of us thought he would."

"What do you mean?" Sonjita asked with a frown.

"He offered to take me away from this world, to go with him on some kind of cosmic war, his great crusade. He was more than willing to save me, but he won't lift a finger to save any of you. I could not accept such an offer, so I told him to leave."

Polgara fell silent, and so did Sonjita. But the silence did not last long. The sorceress spoke first, "Would that you had accepted."

Incredulous, Angronius stared in disbelief at his wife's words. "What… what did you say?"

"Would that you had accepted." Polgara repeated, her eyes brimming with tears. "If we are all destined for death, I would see you spared from it."

"Never!" Angronius exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You hear me, woman? Never! Do you hold me as the kind of god that I am beyond the fates of mortal men? I would not be parted from you, in this life or the next!"

He turned his gaze to Sonjita, "And that goes for you too. I will hear no more of this, do I make myself clear?"

"Then what would you have us do?" The Red Maiden asked, at a loss for words as she gradually accepted the inevitability of their impending doom.

Angronius let out a deep sigh, then beckoned for his wives to draw near. "I would have you both hold me close, as our hour of reckoning approaches. Let Nuceria send her legions. We will face them as one."

A final kiss, a last embrace, and the contentment of a life well lived. These were the three things that gave the gladiator king and his followers the courage to face the challenge. They would go out to meet the Nucerians knowing that they had come to fight as free men, and that they will never be slaves again.

Nuceria Prime Orbit
Bucephalus, The Emperor's Flagship
Imperial Fleet

High above the world of Nuceria, in the middle of a tiny flotilla of Imperial interstellar battleships, floated the magnificent Bucephalus. This ship was constructed by the greatest minds of Mars, the technological and mechanical heart of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and was the result of years of recovering centuries of lost knowledge from mankind's golden age. This battleship, a battle-barge of considerable mass that it generated its own gravity well, was the Emperor's favorite void-vessel and often used it to spearhead every advance in the Great Crusade.

It had the power of a thousand suns, capable of laying waste to entire worlds and reducing the very crust of each battlefield into hot glass.

But it wasn't the thought of some impending battle that vexed the Emperor, it was the thought of losing one of his Primarch sons to what he believed was an ignoble end. Angronius wasn't the first of his sons to be discovered, but he was by far the most difficult to bring into the fold.

The Emperor teleported himself aboard the bridge, where his trusted honor guard of Adeptus Custodes stood ready to receive his retrieved son. A remembrancer, with his coterie of servitors, stood poised to capture the momentous occasion and preserve it in painted glass. Chief Custodian and Captain-General Constantin Valdor, and the Sigillite himself, were among them. But when they saw that he came alone and empty-handed, they immediately knew that something had gone wrong.

"Hm." Malcador grunted, leaning heavily on his staff upon which the blazing Imperial Aquila was perched. He met the Emperor's gaze when all others respectfully looked away and addressed him as he would his equal, a privilege reserved for him and only him. "Didn't quite work out the way you planned?"

"He refused me." The Emperor replied, still in disbelief as he took his seat on the mechanical throne which allowed him to command the whole vessel remotely. His golden hand reached up to rub the surface of his temple, and he reflected on the stubbornness his son had apparently inherited from him. For a brief moment, he was tempted to smile. "That's... never happened before."

Malcador knew better than to lecture his friend on the 'first time for everything' nature of the universe. He decided instead to offer up alternatives, as he knew better than anyone else the importance of bringing in every single Primarch. The work of the Great Crusade depended on them, and losing even one would be a severe blow to the Imperium, one that they would not soon recover from. "Then he leaves us with little choice."

"Oh?" The Emperor inquired, "And what would you have me do?"

"He must return to us." The Sigillite suggested, "But that doesn't mean he has to come willingly. Teleport him aboard the Bucephalus and have him readied to assume the mantle of Primarch. The Twelfth Legion needs a leader, and it must be him."

The Emperor's brow arched, and he considered doing exactly as Malcador said. It would be an expedient solution, although it would hardly be one that would earn him Angronius' loyalty. He would be taking away the very thing he himself was fighting for- the salvation of human lives. Indeed, in that moment of sheer arrogance, the Emperor realized that even rebellious slaves could be a cause fighting for.

He had lived a life very similar to what Angronius was living now. "If I did that, Malcador, I would gain a general... but I would lose my son."

The Sigillite's aged shoulders rose up slightly, "Then, I have no other recourse."

"Hmm..." The Emperor thought long and hard, to find whatever solution he could resort to without having to forcefully remove his son. It was there, in that word, he found a way. "Sons... sons... tell me, where are the War Hounds now?"

Malcador's face lifted, and a sly smile could be seen on his wrinkled face as he caught on to the Emperor's idea. "They are an entire sector away, conducting a pacification of a hostile system."

"How long until you can get them here?"

"At the least? Five days."

The Emperor shook his head, "Angronius doesn't have five days. Get them here quickly, use every means you have at your disposal. Go."

Malcador left to make the necessary arrangements, and it was there that Constantin Valdor offered up something to buy the stubborn Primarch precious time. "My lord, perhaps if we softened up these Nucerians a little, it just might give us enough time to get the legion planetside."

"Ah." The Emperor smiled, "Thank you, that would do quite nicely. But please, try not to crack the planet open. I would prefer to leave my son's birth-world intact, that he might have a recruitment center for his legion."

The Bucephalus had a vast array of weaponry, each more powerful than the last. At the Emperor's command, only three gargantuan macro-cannons were used to bombard the Nucerian legionary encampments from orbit. These awesome and terrifying death-dealers could punch out a dwarf planet's core at full power, so to operate within the Emperor's specific parameters, the most meticulous calibrations were made before the weapons were primed for bombardment.

Afterwards, the three cannons fired their deadly payload.

Dawn
Province of Desh'ea, Northern Desh'elika Plateau
Fedan Mohr

When morning finally came, a bright flash of light chased away the black winter clouds above Fedan Mohr, followed by a thunderous peal that seemed to grow with intensity with each passing second. Thinking that it was the dawning sun, and the coming of another winter storm, the Eaters of Cities prepared to finally meet their end at the hands of their oppressors.

To their surprise, it seemed as though the very sun came crashing down on the Desh'elikan Plateau.

The sky opened up, and the air grew so hot that it scalded the flesh of the onlooking freedmen. Angronius watched as the flatlands surrounding Fedan Mohr were consumed by fire. Nucerian legionnaires, their war machines and vehicles, along with two villages caught in the orbital bombardment's killzone... gone in an instant. By Angronius' estimate, there were at least six legions sent to lay siege upon their mountain stronghold.

"Are you certain that he didn't come to help us?" Sonjita asked, her green eyes wide with wicked glee.

"It would seem that I mistook his intentions." Angronius acknowledged, although remaining very much skeptical of the Emperor's unknowable schemes. "Regardless, we now have some breathing room."

"Brother Angron, should we press the attack?" Lucretia inquired.

The gladiator king frowned, unsure of what to do next. "I... I don't know."

He was thinking of withdrawing to the shores of Hyrkan, he didn't say it but the gladiatrix was aware of his mindset. He was still counting on their friends from across the Sodian Sea. Lucretia, however, had long lost faith with Minerva. Help would never arrive from the Freelands, they were truly on their own. They cannot withdraw, not when they were so close to Reksia- the capital of Nuceria.

But alas, therein lay the problem. They didn't have enough men. An assault on a heavily defended citadel would require more power, more numbers. To make the attempt in their sorry state would just as well be suicide.

Then, Angronius spoke again. A mad scheme took root in his mind, and he was all too eager to share it. "Perhaps we've been operating under the strategy of a barbarian horde long enough. I believe it's time we adopt a new strategy, one that befits our name." He turned his gaze in another direction, one opposite of Reksia, to a city they've already once laid waste prior to their flight across the sea. "Let us take a city and use its fortifications."

"Just like Vendhayana?"

The gladiator king nodded, "Precisely. We must move quickly, before our enemies regroup."

Elsewhere
The Pacification of Morsova VI

The heavy staccato burst of bolter-fire echoed across the dunes of the Morsovan battlefield. A group of skirmishers fell dead upon the sands, their bodies mauled horrifically beyond recognition.

Engaged in combat with the resisting latter of the local population were the space marine legionnaires of the War Hounds. Veritable angels of death, with the strength and ferocity of mythical hellhounds, the legion overwhelmed the meager defenses of each planet belonging to the Morsovan Union. Attempts at a diplomatic subjugation were cast aside once their planetary defense fleets opened fire on the Twelfth Legion's ships, which was met with a swift and brutal retaliation.

The Imperium would have the Morsovan sub-sector, one way or another. Their enemies were backed into a corner, driven to a now fanatical desperation as the Hounds clawed at their gates. The desert world of Morsova VI had become their tomb, for only one citadel remained to resist against the legion's advance. Once it falls, the entire sub-sector would follow, and the Imperium would lay claim to the enormous bounty of exotic minerals vital for the production of future Imperial warships.

Leading the main assault on the citadel was Captain Khârn of the War Hounds 1st Company, a veteran legionnaire of a hundred campaigns and one of the best warriors to ever emerge from the brutal training world of Bodt. He was at the cusp of taking the first step towards the Thunderhawk heavy-transporter when a priority-one message was relayed to him from the fleet hovering in low-orbit.

"What is it?" He snapped, without a care for who it was behind the message. "We're at the threshold of the final assault, make it quick!"

"Apologies, captain. But it is imperative that you withdraw the 1st Company and return to the fleet. All other companies have been informed and they are now rallying home."

Khârn couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Clarify."

"We have found him, sir. We have found the Primarch."

The news changed everything. Morsova VI, and the sub-sector entire, was no longer the legion's priority. The reunion of the Primarch with his legion was of utmost importance to the War Hounds, and they willingly abandoned all their hard work at the sub-sector to depart for the Nucerian system where the Emperor himself awaited their arrival. Khârn recalled his forces, brought the whole of the 1st Company back to the War Hounds fleet.

Once all were in place for departure, the War Hounds consigned Morsova VI to oblivion by glassing the planet from orbit, to ensure that consequences of the Union's stubborn refusal to submit to Imperial rule would stand as a warning to all others passing through the system.

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A/N

It is now my headcanon that a majority of Big E's dickery is Malcador's doing.