~Soldier, Poet, King~
~796. M30~
~Segmentum Pacificus~
~Colchis~
~Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium and Imperial Regent~
"BY THE LICENSE OF MY GOD NAMED ASURYAN, AND MY GODDESS NAMED ISHA, I ADVANCED AND MARCHED AGAINST UMLAUT, KING OF THE WORLDS THAT HAD NOT BOWED TO MY YOKE." The colossus of bone boomed as it swung its titanic sword. Crashing into the side of a stone tower, the massive blade cleaved it in twain, and the structure rumbled as it began to collapse over and upon itself.
The host of Dragon-Knights rode over the paltry walls of the fortress ahead, and their scaled mounts savaged the primitive defenders with tooth and claw. Shots of ancient powder-fire design crashed against their thickened hides and were found wanting. The Warriors astride these great beasts chanted songs of war, and bolts of psychic lightning issued forth from their hands and to the soldiers they battled.
A skull-helmed giant crashed through their lines, running as an unstoppable bull might, and scattering the flesh and blood of the defenders as he passed through them. His burning sword flashed through the air, and a great wave of cosmic flames issued forth, consuming sigils and banners that bore an eight-pointed star in abstract.
The screaming of a burning city surrounded this force, and their scattered garrisons were spread throughout the sun-baked metropolis, putting all they found to the sword and long-gun.
All the while, the colossus of bone recited lines of ancient texts. Its sword crashed through another tall tower, sending it crumbling to the ground as its words of foreign tongue washed over the burning city.
"I CONQUERED, I DESTROYED, I DEMOLISHED, AND BURNED WITH FIRE FOURTEEN OF HIS WORLDS, TWELVE OF HIS SYSTEM-DISTRICTS, SIX OF HIS ROYAL PALACES, AND HIS SETTLEMENTS WHICH WERE WITHOUT NUMBER WITHIN THE EMPIRE RAGNA-ELD, ALL OF IT."
The Dragon-Knights harried the fleeing soldiers, plates and lances of mystic bone sundering plates of iron and bronze and starmetal-scrap. Their banners of gold, green, and white fluttered in the draft of hot air from the fires that now consumed the city.
The giant crashed through the thick gates into the courtyard of the fortress, and a wave of gun-fire and crossbows washed over him like rain. Nothing so weak would crash through his reliquary-plate, and no warriors so slow could strike him more than but once.
His sword flashed in an arc, and consumed the courtyard in golden flames. The defenders preparing to jab at him with lance and sword fell to the ground screaming, and the defenders further away attempted to flee from the waves of fire. The giant did not allow this, and in mighty leaps crashed against each until there was no one left to fire upon him.
The colossus of bone continued its story, even as it finished striking down the next tower of stone and straw with a sword that made mockery of pikes with its scale.
"I TURNED THEM INTO MOUNDS AND RUINS. I SLEW HIS WAR-SLAVES WITHOUT NUMBER. I STRUCK DOWN HIS VETERAN SWORDSMEN WITH MY LANCE, AND THE WIDOWS OF THE KING OF THOSE WORLDS FLED NAKED INTO THE VOID BEYOND THE WHEEL."
The giant stared at the burning fortress, now reduced to rubble and molten stone. Those inside surely long dead or soon to be. The sigils of dark gods now reduced to ash and memory. The sword tugged the giant's hand in a new direction, and he set off again, eyes blazing with a cold fury.
Raising his shield high above and waving it, reality shattered before him, a gate connecting two distant places enacted by arcane machinery. He stepped through it, and his warhost from various places throughout the previous city greeted him. The gates of another coastal settlement stretched before him, and he began to approach it.
Behind him, titanic ships of bone unleashed payloads of laser-fire and psychic bombs upon the burning city, causing much of what remained to shatter and crash in on itself, sending dust and rubble into the air in great amounts. The smell of burning flesh filled the winds from the gates at the warhost's backs.
Then the colossus of bone stepped through the gate, it collapsed behind them in an instant, and the smell was gone from the winds. The titanic ships of bones, now miles away, began to lazily swim through the air towards the army's current location. The seers aboard searching for impure life upon a barren world.
The giant with a skull helm raised his burning sword, the Dragon-Knights rode forth, and soldiers in white began to march through another city. The fourth one that they had assaulted that day. Not the last one, however.
All the while, the colossus of bone continued its story. Even as its massive blade swooped down, and shattered the gates into the city utterly, granting passage to the rest of the army.
"AS FOR THE PEOPLE LIVING INSIDE THEM, I ANNIHILATED THEM. I SHATTERED THEIR FALSE-IDOLS AND THUS PLACATED MY GODS. I CARRIED OFF TO MY HOMELAND THEIR GODS, THEIR GODDESSES, ITS POSSESSIONS, ITS PROPERTY, AND ITS PEOPLE. OVER AN AREA OF SIXTY CONTINENTS, BY THE COMMAND OF MY GOD ASURYAN AND MY GODDESS ISHA, I ENTERED THE EMPIRE RAGNA-ELD AND TRAMPLED IT UNDERFOOT."
—
Guilliman stared out into the vast hangar-bay of Charnac's Pride. He looked at the Wraithknight and its scratched plating and scorched cape. He looked at the Eldar warriors and their cracked armor and soot-covered limbs. He looked at the Dragons, and all of the minor injuries currently being treated by exodite healers and priestesses.
No deaths, but had he chosen a more advanced world to lose his temper upon, there certainly would be. And had that happened, they would not simply fade away, they would be swallowed up by a thirsting maw.
He looked down to his sword and shield, completely untouched by the strategically unsound massacre he had led. He looked further to his armor and clothes, covered in soot and stained in the gore of a thousand men.
He was dripping blood and body parts on this floor. How rude of him. Mam would be disappointed.
He let loose a tremendous sigh, anger not gone, but certainly vented. Now there was weariness in his frame, not physical, but mental. The slaughter of so many even peripherally related to those that tormented his sister had certainly cooled his anger, but was not part of the very plan he had proposed and set out to perform.
The entire population was already doomed, the Imperial Truth of the Emperor was destined to arrive to this world and stamp out all of its former cults with fire and war. This action had no strategic benefit, and only served to alert Chaos to his workings.
It was possible that they knew of his actions before, but no there was no possible doubt that they were informed. He had just razed all the major cities of one of their planets with golden flames, in a series of battles, over the course of a full terran day. It did nothing to assist in their overall aims, it did nothing to help his sister, it did nothing except waste time, resources, and their ability to go unnoticed!
Konor Guilliman had taught him better than this. Taught him to control his temper, and what did he do?
He set out on another rampage that aided them little. Now here he was, standing in a hangar bay, looking at all the warriors he had forced into battles without substance. How selfish of him. He would have to apologize to Asarnil. He would have to activate his contingency plans.
So much more work over a tantrum.
Guilliman, you hotblooded fool.
"I have to thank you, friend. My warriors found that quite invigorating." The words of the Dragonlord behind him drew his attention.
He paused, then turned to stare at Asarnil.
There he stood, stained in almost as much gore as Guilliman himself, holding the massive saw-cleaver-like powersword that served as his cavalry-sword over his shoulder. The Daiklaive being almost as long as Guilliman was tall, and looking almost comical when compared to the Exodite-king himself.
"What?" Guilliman questioned, somewhat confused for a brief moment. Then he raised a hand and spoke again, already guessing at what the Dragonlord was speaking of. "Wait, no. Morale I suppose. They set out to aid the 'Slayer of Evil' and evil has been slain in great numbers."
"Not just that. Evil was slain on behalf of a loved one's torment. A grudge has been avenged with this deed. Even more than that, you led a series of battles that resulted in no deaths. Why would you be confused by this?"
"I'm not confused, I'm simply considering other factors."
"Such as?"
"I have, in a fit of wrath, clearly alerted the powers of Chaos to my presence and actions for no long term strategic gain. There was nothing gained by killing so many of Colchis this early, when I know my creator will be arriving within a century to stamp out all traces of the native cults."
The dragonlord stared at Guilliman for a moment, before snorting in amusement. Guilliman glared at him until he started to explain.
"Friend, the Chaos Gods are always at work, in as many places as they can manage, constantly. Them knowing of you does little except speed their daemons to die at your sword. Fighting them is not a war of plans and tricks. That's what they want. Fighting them is a matter of lifestyle and logistics, neither of which were seriously hampered by this deed."
Asarnil stepped forwards, and placed a hand on Guilliman's arm, smiling up at him. "Come now, let's get this gore washed off, I'm sure your sisters will appreciate not hugging a red-coated sibling."
Guilliman stared for a second, before shaking his head and letting himself be pulled along by the Dragonlord. "Very well, but we'll be implementing my contingencies regardless." And immediately after getting clean, he would go to Aurelia's side. He wasn't sure what he was going to do yet, but he had to aid her somehow.
Anything to help her now, to help any of them. Their situations were clearly worse than he had been allowed to know.
"But of course." Asarnil agreed.
—
"She healed from what injuries were present quickly, as expected of a Godling. She has been washed and dried, fed and watered, and now rests in the healing ward." The maid spoke as she led Guilliman down the winding halls of the ship, towards the section that currently contained his youngest sister. The maid hesitated for a moment, before continuing her words. "...It took quite some time to convince her to leave the baths."
Guilliman's lips pulled down and his brow furrowed. His hand came up to rub at his brow, and he took some time to reply. "...I see."
"...She has not spoken without prompting, save to ask where you were. She was content with the answer we gave her, that you were making war upon Colchis."
Guilt weighed on him like gravity. He should've been there for her immediately, not a full day after her rescue. "...I see."
"...Her sisters asked to see her, but we assumed you would wish to speak with them first."
He gave a tired nod. "Yes. That would probably be for the best. Petra is too blunt for her own good, and Kassandra might disturb her with ominous statements of judgment." He mused upon the habits of his younger sisters aloud. He would have to speak to them about interacting with their sister before any potential damage was done to their relationships.
The maid stopped in front of a door, and turned to bow at him. She quietly spoke. "She is inside, Friend of Charnac."
"Thank you." He replied, before slowly opening the door and stepping inside.
His sister was there, propped up against a large pillow and nestled beneath a thick blanket stuffed with down-feathers. Her eyes opened as he entered the room, and turned to look at him.
His thin hands reached out, opening and closing for-
His right hand curled into a white-knuckle fist as he stared at his sister, who smiled back in turn. Massive for one so young, massive for horrid reasons. He slowly breathed out, walking forwards to grab a chair from the side of the room, and being careful in his approach. Planning on stopping immediately should she have a negative reaction.
None. She simply smiled as he approached, and awkwardly sat down in a chair that was really much too small for him. Forcing his hand to unclench, he laced his fingers together and attempted to say something.
"...Hello."
He wanted to smack himself. That was a horrible proper introduction. He raised a fist to cough into it, and tried again.
"I'm your older brother. I came here to bring you home. I apologize for… being late…"
He glanced down. Seven months. If they had simply cut off more extraneous destinations and taken more direct routes, they would've arrived here with time to spare. He could've prevented all of this from happening, inadvertently allowing it through prioritization of side-objectives.
He could've stopped this. And he didn't. He couldn't have known in this life, but had he been a better brother in the past, he would've known to come as soon as possible.
He could've stopped this. He didn't. He allowed it.
"I dreamed of you." Her voice brought his gaze backup. Her eyes were locked onto his face, and he found he couldn't turn away.
"Every night, I dreamed that you would be there. So I was able to endure. Because I knew you would be there." She smiled at him. "Thank you, Lord Angel."
Wretched approval as the slaves beat the unnatural child with sticks
He felt sick. "I should've been there sooner."
"But you were there." She replied, articulate for a girl of seven months. He knew why, unfortunately. Any flaw in speech or writing was punished with beatings. Beatings with clubs and withheld meals and other things he did not allow himself to think of.
Kor Phaeron had managed to torture a Primarch into near-adulthood in less than a year. Had a full year gone on, Aurelia would likely be at her fullest maturity already. Fully mature and utterly broken to the will of that creature.
Lorgar had brought him as an honored advisor in his legion. Guilliman's guts churned on themselves at the memory. It wasn't any wonder that Lorgar turned to Chaos, he was just as much of a slave as Angron was, his shackles were merely less obvious.
How many signs had he missed? How many torments did his brothers endure? How much suffering could he have prevented?
Guilliman did not know. All he knew was that there was a girl in the body of a young woman smiling at him as if he were a savior. As if he wasn't too late to save her from that creature.
He forced himself to smile. Now wasn't about him. His feelings were irrelevant. He had a sister to heal. "Well I'm certainly here now at least. Is your bed comfortable, have the maids been kind?"
"Oh." Aurelia looked guilty at that. "Absolutely so, but I'm afraid I don't deserve all this…"
"You will receive what you deserve! For such failures as this? Nothing!"
"No." Guilliman refuted. Aurelia flinched at that (his finger twitched in fury), before blinking at him.
"...um…"
"No. You are my sister. You deserve many good things, and I will make sure you get them." He declared, finishing the thought. "You will receive as many good things as I can give, I refuse to allow anything less."
She fidgeted for a moment, looking down and lips twisting into a guilty smile. "...okay… I-if it's your will, Lord Angel."
"I will educate you, girl. On the nature of the Empyrean"
"I am your brother. Call me older brother instead." He demanded of her. She fidgeted for a good few moments, pulling the hem of the blanket up to her face, before whispering out with a large wobbly smile.
"...b-brother…"
He smiled at her, reaching out a hand, palm facing upwards. Her eyes locked onto it, before darting up to look at him, and back to the hand. She slowly reached out a hand, placing it in his, and allowing him to softly close his much larger fingers around it.
He brought his head down to touch his forehead to the back of her hand. "Whatever you need, I'll do my best to give. I swear this to you, Aurelia."
She will be a tool for all my needs, power is mine if I leverage her correctly.
There was silence for a moment.
"...h-hug." She whispered.
He raised his head to look at her. She was looking anywhere but at him. He smiled.
"A hug?" He asked for confirmation. She shakily but rapidly nodded.
He slowly leaned forwards, and wrapped his arms around his little sister. Her own arms raced forwards as if he would disappear, and clamped around him as much as they could. He was still too large and broad of chest for her to completely encircle his torso, she was still within standard human height ranges.
She started to shake in his arms. He ignored the wetness growing on his tunic, and her rapidly muttered prayers of thanks, and her staggered sobs. He could educate her on the nature of gods and the immaterial later, she needed time to heal first.
This wouldn't break her. She was a Primarch. She would recover from this.
He would make sure of it.
He would make sure of it.
He was going to see about getting these memories purged from his mind, however. He had no desire to let them linger any longer than he had to. The seers were certainly skilled enough to do this.
There wasn't going to be a memory of that creature. Not anywhere.