~Unfurling Voidsails~

~793. M30~

~South-Eastern Ultima Segmentum~

~Exodite World Charnac~

~Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium and Imperial Regent~

The ships of the Eldar were queer things, unlike the vessels of the Imperium that he was used to commanding. Whereas the Imperium vessels relied on armor in order to get into an advantageous position and fire long enough for the enemy to fall, Eldar ships relied on mobility. This in itself was not particularly strange. That was merely another type of combat doctrine, and more than easy enough to comprehend.

The strangeness of the Eldar ships was that they had sails. Like sails to catch the winds in an atmosphere, but scaled to massive sizes and mounted on the exteriors of starships of all things. Not thrusters as the Imperium vessels used, sails. Those sails were more effective when pointed away from a star, leading many in the mechanicus to theorize that they somehow managed to make use of solar winds. That theory was only barely supported, as there were no calculations that made the figures work.

The rest of the figures were typically handwaved with the explanation of 'xeno warpcraft'. That was a particularly unsatisfying answer to some, but perfectly adequate to others.

And yet the Eldar had sails on their ships, and those sails made them accelerate faster when traveling in the direction of solar winds. He had been slightly intrigued by the exact mechanics of such, and on whim he idly asked. To his astonishment, he had received an answer from a bemused Eldar foreman of some variation.

Gravity. Their ships used anti-gravity technology to push away from local sources of that universal pressure. Their ships sailed on gravity like it was wind, using its pull to push away instead.

Of course, now that he knew that was possible, he would see about having civilian craft installed with such devices. That would allow him to reduce the required amount of promethium by massive amounts. With less promethium required to fuel less critical industries, more could be dedicated to war-efforts, or production could be reduced altogether. Empire-wide increases in efficiency were fortuitous things whenever he found them.

That, and he never much cared for how promethium factories looked. Nor the amount of precautions required to prevent unwanted buildup of pollutants surrounding them. And ship-promethium was particularly tricky and expensive to safely manage. Absurdly energetic.

Of course, some variation of redundancy should be used. Secondary thrusters should be installed, for emergency maneuvers.

All of this was merely hopes for the future.

Roboute Guilliman stared at the ships of the Eldar, slowly being loaded with the war material and soldiers they had prepared for the last ten terran months. He had gotten somewhat familiar with the nuances of the Charnac Exodites in the meantime, and settled on a (for-now) finalized draft of three documents. Codex Aeldari was still in an incomplete state.

Codex Administratum. Codex Lingua. Codex Immateria.

The first, Codex Administratum, was the collection of all of the easy-to-communicate knowledge he had on the development, management, and advancement of civilizations and organizations. It was a weighty tome, more than five-hundred pages of script and diagrams, but it was still not nearly enough for his tastes. It would provide a strong starting point though, which is all he could hope for at the moment.

Codex Lingua was a translation tome. It contained all the knowledge he had of all the languages he could remember. It was a lesser book than codex administratum, but would likely be required to communicate his other documents to new worlds nevertheless. He planned on adding to it whenever he could, but he doubted he would ever complete it in truth

Codex Immateria was the collection of all the knowledge he had on the warp and its denizens. The four and their self-defeating nature, their servants and the technicalities of their existence, how to defeat and starve them all. This one he was far more reluctant to create, but knew it would probably be for the best if he could have a document to teach others about the dangers of the non-material world. He had much aid from the Eldar in its creation, filling in sections that he was less sure of with their old wisdoms, but even so… He would not be simply giving this to potentially untrustworthy, lest they be converted by encountering the unwholesome. If this book was shown to any, it would be under the strict instruction of a trusted individual.

He planned on giving a copy of the first two tomes to every world conquered, with instructions to mass-reproduce it.

Still, he had ten years to refine them all, as the initial voyage was not one of conquest. It was not time for that yet. No, the initial voyage was a scouting and recruitment trip around the galaxy.

Traveling around the galaxy in a rough circle over the course of ten planned years. During which time he would retrieve five of his brothers, and the Exodites would communicate to any other Eldar they found their plans for conquest in the southern-outer-rim. A rough-triangle of space in between the planets he knew as Deliverance, Nocturne, and Macragge.

He was familiar with the territory, it was mostly uninhabited relative to other sections of the galaxy, and filled with numerous potentially fertile and useful worlds. Several other Exodite worlds were within this space already, and the Dragonlord was confident they would agree to a unification once they were shown the vision that he had been given.

With any luck, they would manage to recruit a significant portion of the Eldar for this mission. Currently most of their people were still reeling from the birth of Slaanesh (and the subsequent devouring of their pantheon). Active recruitment by Exodite worlds (which would protect their souls from being consumed by the newborn god) would surely be tempting to many.

Especially with the news of their goddess in captivity. Most were not aware she was still alive. Asarnil and Savan assured him that many would be quite eager to risk their souls if it meant saving their most beloved goddess.

That was good, it would be necessary if the assault on Nurgle's realm were to be successful.

He would recruit five of his brothers, one-fourth of the Primarchs, no more, no less. Angron, Perturbo, Konrad, Lorgar, Mortarion. All of them turned traitor last time, all of them would potentially be great boons to his burgeoning realm, all of them under his banner would make his creator more reluctant to write off his realm and all the people within it, and instead lean further towards integration and alliances.

…All of them would be kept close so he could monitor them, and put them down if required. He was not about to let the Horus Heresy proceed as it did last time. If even one more traitor primarch could be put down ahead of time, then that would be one less enemy to fight when the time came.

That was, of course, the worst-case scenario. He hoped he would be able to teach and guide them well enough to steer them away from any potential turn to Chaos. He hoped their fall was due to circumstance and not something inherent to their beings.

Horus was too close to Terra to safely retrieve. Alpharius was too cunning for Guilliman to feel confident in his ability to monitor him. Magnus was a psyker of incredible power, and thus too obvious to keep his realm hidden from the Emperor long enough to force an alliance.

It was difficult to choose between Fulgrim and Mortarion. He wasn't feeling particularly pleased with either. In the end he chose Mortarion, as Fulgrim was found earlier on by some decades, which would be required against the Rangdan. He had considered recruiting one of the two Lost. But he did not get a chance to learn where their homeworlds were.

He would change that this time. There was a table with twenty seats. There wasn't going to be a Purged or Lost brother this time. He would make sure of it.

839. That was his time limit. That was when the Rangdan would first start their loathsome advances. That gave him 47 years to build an empire sufficiently powerful enough to start sending aid to that conflict. Likely just an alliance of Exodites would be enough to significantly turn the tide, but enough was never a goal to aim for. One who hopes to hit the mountaintops should be aiming for the moon.

Then after that, after the unification of the bulk of the galaxy, he would convince the Emperor to aid in the rescue of Isha.

…That was going to be quite difficult. He would need as many bargaining chips as he could leverage for that time. It was not impossible though, he knew his creator would relent if offered enough potential rewards and concessions.

And if he failed, then he would crusade regardless, using what he had managed to build in that time as best he could.

He made an oath after all. He had no intentions of breaking it.

—

A small cadre of Eldar maids aided him in putting on his new armor. He could do it alone, and indeed he almost insisted upon it, but Asarnil gave him a sharp look and claimed 'traditions are important' last time he said anything. Apparently traditions meant that, because he didn't have a squire, he had to have a host of maids aid him instead.

He didn't quite understand the logic, but relented in the end. It was a small thing, after all.

The armor was almost refreshing in its rustic design, as there was no mechanical component anywhere in its frame. It was not powered like so many armors he had used in the past, nor did it require some form of actuator powerplant, or some other resource. It was merely a very advanced carapace shell as far as he could tell.

Granted, the strength in his limbs had long since outstripped the strength found in any design of powered frame save the Imperial Titans, so it being powered was somewhat of a moot point he supposed.

The first layer of the armor was another form-fitting suit, a void-capable suit from what he had been told, sealing with his armor when the visor was closed and locked. He was capable of surviving the void beyond planetary atmosphere for some time, but almost certainly not indefinitely, so the void-sealing was a useful feature.

The second layer was a form of gambeson, a type of quilted layer of strongly woven cloths to help absorb the impact of blows. It probably wouldn't do much against direct strikes, but glancing blows would cause less bruises than before. This layer was a cream-white.

The third layer was one of mesh, a layer of woven metal scales that helped to absorb the impact of any blows that might slip through the gaps of the outermost layer. It served to weaken blows even more for the gambeson and bodysuit layer to absorb. This layer was a golden shade.

The last layer of proper armor was in the form of numerous wraithbone plates, colored in the shades of blue that he requested, save for the white shoulders with golden swirls serving as a trim. The iconography of the plates was something that was a surprise to him.

For the most part, the armor looked to be forged of the heavier Eldar styles. Segmented around the joints, flexible enough for adequate agility, an outer sculpt that resembled various muscle groups. It was the helmet that drew the biggest surprise from him.

The helmet looked like a cream-skull that was wearing its own wing-eared helmet. The 'visor' of the second helmet forged to look pushed up, and the skull plate folding over his own face to protect it. A see-through visor layer behind the eyes of the skull-face visor. Atop the false-helmet was a laurel wreath of gold, and mounted on the back of the helmet was a spiked halo, also of gold.

It looked like an Aeldari's impression of Imperial armor. The cloak of white and gold completed the set, pairing well with his father's weapons.

"I don't know how you can stand such cumbersome mail." The voice of the Dragonlord brought him out of his considerations. Guilliman turned his head to look at the Eldar in question, standing in the doorway of his chambers in the ship.

"It's not that heavy." He dismissed the question, only to be met with an amused scoff and a tilted head. Guilliman followed the line of sight to see three of the maids struggling to lift his right gauntlet. The blood-red one for his sword-arm, not the left side gauntlet meant to attach his shield to.

He made their job easier by bringing his hand closer, letting them get it on without having to carry it as far. They carefully did not reveal an expression to him, which he had learned meant they were somewhat embarrassed for whatever reason.

They attached the outer straps quickly, and he brought up the gauntlet to finish securing it to the underlayer. He noticed the slightly pointed fingertips on closer inspection, and the various channels carved throughout its paneling.

The entire armor had channels like such carved into its surface, a litany of runes in Aeldari script that he couldn't see but faintly. He had translated some of it, and the majority seemed to be various prayers to their pantheon.

He was somewhat uncomfortable with it, but he also had to deal with armor covered in sigils of worship with humanity already, so it was a minor thing. All of them seemed to be prayers against daemons and various warp phenomena anyways, so this almost certainly served the same function as the sigils on his old armor.

He could feel the stare of the Dragonlord on him, so he deliberately ignored it. Turning to the five assembled maids, he gave a slight bow of his head and spoke "Thank you. I am grateful for your aid."

They performed a synchronized curtsey, and only after did he finally turn his attention back to the Dragonlord. "Is everything ready for our departure?"

"Who knows, I was busy watching you seduce my maids." The Dragonlord quipped as they left the chamber together.

Guilliman snorted dismissively. "That was hardly a seduction, Eldar. That was being polite to the servants."

"What qualifies as a seduction then, Son of Man? How do your people make romance?"

Guilliman thought about it for a moment, asking a clarifying question. "My homeworld or the wider Imperium?"

"Your homeworld, whatever it was called."

"Macragge, Eldar."

"Yes that one."

He hummed for a moment, thinking back on the ancient traditions of his home for a moment. "It typically begins with a contest of cunning and strength. The groom must successfully abduct the woman he intends to marry from her family's compound, ideally after making a formal declaration of intent at least one week ahead. During the abduction, he is to tie a belt or collar around her somewhere, usually the waist or neck."

"...What?"

"Thereafter he must manage to defend his household from her father, uncles, or brothers. At least one battle, but usually not more than three. It depended on how much the male relatives disliked the groom. He must have enough supplies within his household to provide for the bride during this defense. He must also entertain her, typically with song or instrument."

He narrowed his eyes, squinting as he tried to remember all the smaller details.

"After the relative declares the groom victorious, the groom swears to continue providing for the bride, as well as promising her property to manage business upon and secondary authority in their future household. As well as to provide her with children. Their shared property and her dowry would form the basis of their eventual estate."

"It's been many years since, I'm afraid I don't remember all of the details of the Sabine Ceremony." He apologized without actually saying sorry. He had found out that Eldar preferred to reserve the word for very serious occasions.

The Dragonlord was staring at him with a flat expression on his face, raised brows and half-lidded eyes. Eventually he replied. "I should be surprised, but I'm not. How curious." He sounded as if he was discussing something particularly uninspired, such as the weather.

Guilliman raised a brow in turn and shrugged. "You were the one to ask."

"So how many maidens have you abducted so far, son of man? A hundred or a thousand?" He drawled.

Guilliman let out a short chortle. "None. I've never had the time."

"Never?"

"Never. There was always another war to fight, or problem to manage. I never had the time for romance."

"Don't let the maids hear you say that, they'll swoon even more than they have been."

He snorted dismissively. "You saw the same future I lived through, Dragonlord. Neither of us can afford to spend any time on that."

"...The future… have you decided on an alias yet?"

Guilliman nodded. He couldn't exactly call himself his actual name. Roboute Guilliman was going to be raised on Macragge, and be renowned throughout the galaxy soon enough. If he wanted to disguise his true nature from their many potential enemies, he would need a different name while beyond the relative safety of Charnac.

"It was tradition for my sons to choose a name for themselves upon becoming Astartes. Usually they chose traditional names from a list, but recently one had picked a unique name for himself."

The Dragonlord raised a brow, Guilliman continued.

"Malum Caedo. That's the name I shall use."

"I assume it has a meaning?"

"It means 'I kill evil'."

"...Your naming sense is terribly plain, 'slayer of evil'."

"I'd prefer the term 'practical'."